#i know he’s a meathead but like. he suffered so much

[savemefromanepicoftimewasted]

In Every Trio, There's Always A Duo

John Price X Reader

You were following behind Soap and Ghost, keeping a close eye on your surroundings while watching their six. Soap was on Ghost’s left, you were on his right, so how could they have gotten to you so easily?

A/N:this is probably the angstiest fic I've written in a while lol, the idea popped up in my head after scrolling tiktok and now I'd like you all to suffer with me(also I know I promised the Gaz fic first, it is coming! I promise!) warnings:mentions of blood, injuries, wounds, gore, depressive thoughts, thoughts of suicide, mentions of death

Price had been the one to introduce you to everyone, saying that you were the newest member of their team. Gaz welcomed you with open arms and even offered to show you around so that you wouldn’t get lost. Soap was happy to greet you, talking too quickly for you to understand even half of what he’d been saying. Ghost was a little more closed off, friendly enough to say hello and introduce himself but didn’t go out of his way to be your friend. It was something you were used to, men in the military were one of three things. Friendly, flirty, or standoffish. While Ghost wasn’t your typical “I’m better than you” military meathead, he wasn’t an open book.

It was all fine though, you had gotten close to the rest of the group and made friends with all of them quick enough. Alejandro and Rudy were much friendlier during the first meeting, Rudy and you swapped recipes and talked about your interests. Ale joked that you would end up stealing his best friend right from under his nose. Of course you would never do that, stealing someone else’s best friend was a big no no in your book.

“I would never steal him away from you! Best friends are sacred.” You smiled over at Ale, watching the way he became flustered ever so slightly.

“Well, thank you then.” He wasn’t sure what to say, most people teased them for being such close friends, this was a nice change.

“Of course, no need to thank me.” Rudy pulled you back into the conversation, explaining how to properly cook one of his mother’s best dishes.

It went on like that for months, you making friends with everyone on the task force, along with Ale and Rudy. When everyone would go home for break you didn’t leave, assuring everyone that you would leave the following day. No one needed to know that you didn’t want to go back to your family, their toxicity pushing you to where you were now. Your mother had been an alcoholic your entire life, your father no better when he actually bothered to come around. Your brother had up and left the moment he turned eighteen, leaving you behind to suffer.

No one needed to know what happened in your past, to them things were good and you had a loving family. They didn’t need to know that you had nothing left waiting for you, no family, and no friends for if you succumbed to your death during a mission. You’d wanted to tell them the truth so badly, that you truly weren’t alright, but you couldn’t.

You were out at the bar with everyone, sitting between Gaz and Soap. The Scot had interrupted you nearly five times now, voice booming as he recalled a tale about how Price had embarrassed himself during a mission. You bit your lip, sinking into your seat and not bothering to try and speak up anymore. The night continued on like that, everyone talking about different things as the drinks flowed. You’d even learnt a little bit more about Ghost, how his parents weren’t the nicest of people, how he’d done what he could to help them. It reminded you of your own situation, abusive parents that refused to take accountability.

It continued on like that for months, you would head out with everyone and continue to turn into nothing but a shadow. Seven turned to six, six turned into five, and soon enough it was only you, Ghost, and Soap going out. Price was too busy with paperwork, Ale and Rudy had their own duties to attend to, and Gaz was seeing someone. You were happy for Gaz, he was a total catch and anyone with eyes could see how attractive he was. Though you missed his corny jokes at the tables when you’d go out. Soap was the main jokester, Ghost throwing in a few from time to time to throw the Scot off his game.

It was strange seeing Ghost without his mask, the first time your jaw dropped open but you refused to comment. Nothing more humiliating than bringing up someone’s scars to them when you’re in public. He ignored everyone who tried to flirt with him, shutting down their advances with a “not interested” before they could utter another word. That same night they left you behind at the pub, you’d gone to the bathroom to relieve yourself before heading back. When you walked out the table was empty and cleaned, surely they were waiting outside. However once you stepped foot outside you noticed the truck you’d all driven in was gone as well.

Your throat closed up as you realized they had completely forgotten you, the base was over ten miles away. Refusing to try and call them, you tugged your jacket closer to your body and made the journey on foot. Price was still awake when you arrived, feet nearly bleeding from the blisters you now had, and tears running down your face.

“Sweetheart? What’s going on?” Price abandoned his paperwork to rush over to you.

You lied and told him you were simply too intoxicated and had forgotten you had gone to the pub with Soap and Ghost, the two men soundly asleep in their own rooms. He didn’t look as if he believed you, but nonetheless he let it slide. You would tell him the truth when you finally felt ready. Instead of pushing for more answers he helped treat your wounds, and gave you some warmer clothes to sleep in for the night.

Your sleep had been restless that night, struggling to get over how much pain you were in physically, and emotionally. Maybe they had just forgotten because you hadn’t talked the entire night? Sure, that’s what it probably was.

Price kept you on light work for the next two weeks, letting your feet heal before putting you into weapons and basic training. You were being sent out on a mission in a few days and he wanted everyone to be prepared. You stuck close by Gaz and Price for the most part, not wanting a repeat of the pub again. Training was easy, you excelled with each weapon you were given and surpassed everyone else, even Ghost.

Laswell was happy with the progress you’d made since joining, happy to know you had integrated so well with everyone else on the team. It didn’t matter if she didn’t know the entire truth, or that you were miserable deep down. She lead the briefing for your next mission, you were to get the intel required and get out, taking out any hostels if needed. You were a little nervous, the last firefight you’d gone into had nearly gotten you killed. Had Rudy not yanked you down behind the pillar you wouldn’t be standing there.

The helicopter hovered as you rappelled down onto the ground, unclipping your belt and grabbing your gun. There was no one as far as you were able to see, though you couldn’t be too careful, enemies were trained to hide in plain sight. Price and Ghost lead the group, guns raised as they begin a slow but cautious walk towards the building. No one noticed the enemy as they slid from behind their own hiding spots. 

The bullets were raining down on the group before any of the guys or yourself could take cover. Price had thrown Gaz behind one of the pillars, Ghost doing the same with Soap to help prevent his teammate from becoming swiss cheese. Alejandro wrapped his arms around Rudy and tackled him to the ground, laying completely still until the sound of the enemy reloading calmed his nerves. It wasn’t until they realized that you were laying out in the open, screams ripping the air apart as you began to slowly bleed out. Ghost’s heart stopped, how the hell did they completely forget about another person! 

“Shit!” Soap turned to run around Soap’s bulky frame, grunting as Ghost grabbed the collar of his tac vest.

“You do that an’ you’re both dead!” Ghost couldn’t risk someone else getting injured, they needed to neutralize the threat.

“We need to save her!” Soap couldn’t watch you bleed out, it would destroy him.

“Stand down!” Ghost winced as the gunfire drew closer, they needed to retreat before they lost anyone else.

The group slowly retreated, watching the way your frame became smaller and smaller with each step they took. Ghost was gnawing the inside of his jaw, angry that he’d let something like this happen under his watch. Shit, they’d have to figure out how to get you back before you ended up bleeding out on the field.

“Ghost!” Gaz was staring over at the older man, eyes wide with terror.

The enemy had grabbed you, running off while they seemed to be too preoccupied figuring out a plan to stop them in their tracks. His blood ran cold, they were surely going to kill you if they couldn’t rescue you soon enough.

“Stop them!” Ghost raised the gun in his arms, aiming down the scope to try and get a shot off.

It was with a sickening realization that he noticed they were all gone, nothing but dust kicked up in the air as they fled. He’d always kept everyone safe, or as safe as he could when they were in enemy territory. This? This was his worst nightmare come to life, someone getting injured and captured because of his actions. How the hell had he not realized you were near him? While you were quiet when needed you always made your presence known.

“We’ll get them back, but we can’t go in with our heads up in the clouds.” Price was angry, they were split up into two groups. 

You were following behind Soap and Ghost, keeping a close eye on your surroundings while watching their six. Soap was on Ghost’s left, you were on his right, so how could they have gotten to you so easily?

“You let her get hurt, you were too busy keeping an eye on Soap that she got hurt!” Gaz stood up harshly, stomping over to where Ghost and Soap were crouched.

“Hey! Let’s not start going at each other’s throats.” Price grabbed onto his tac vest, stopping him before he could reach the other two.

“I saw it, she was walking too far from Ghost and instead of remembering that she was even there he saved Soap instead, and now she’s been taken by the fucking enemy!” Gaz was angry, angrier than he’d been in quite a while.

Ghost wanted to deny it, that he had been keeping an eye on you the entire time, but it would’ve been a dirty lie. It had been obvious over the last few months how little attention they ever spared you, especially him and Soap. The three of you would go out during your leave together and it was simply as if you didn’t exist to them. You were the third wheel during their conversations, trying your hardest to speak up only to be ignored.

Everyone had gone out for a night of drinks and dinner, mainly because Price all but demanded on getting off base for at least one night. Things had been silent for a little while and he needed to release some tension. You and Gaz were up getting drinks for everyone at the bar, the waitress already swinging by to get everyone’s order for food. Price had seen how sullen your expression was, the sparkle your eyes usually had seemed so dull now. Maybe this would help bring it back and things would go back to normal. You were his favorite(don’t tell Simon)and he would do his damndest to make sure you were okay.

“Sorry about the wait, bar was a little busier than expected.” You and Gaz set down all the drinks, being careful not to spill any liquid onto the, for now, clean table.

“No worries love, food won’t be out for a little while anyway.” Price smiled at the way your face flushed, proud that he could still have you blushing like a schoolgirl. 

The conversation seemed to flow easily with everyone, Gaz was telling a story from his teenage years that had everyone laughing. He’d embarrassed himself trying to impress a girl and refused to even look her in the eye afterwards. You opened your mouth to make a comment before Soap cut you off, the entire table echoing with laughter. Clearing your throat quietly you took a quick sip of your drink. 

The chatter died down once the food was brought out, everyone eating in near silence, save for the bustle of the restaurant around you. You wanted to talk about something, anything, but the timing never felt right. So instead of opening your mouth to talk you kept eating, your stomach turning slightly as you pushed the food around the plate. The chance to strike up a new conversation was dulled entirely once Ghost started talking about something. You didn’t bother to listen, eyes locked onto your plate as you tried to muster up the energy to keep eating.

Everyone was pulled into the conversation, offering their own bits and pieces here and there, everyone except for you. Why bother speaking to people who clearly didn’t notice when you did anyway? It would be a waste of energy and you needed to worry about what would happen on your next mission. Only you didn’t notice the way Price’s gaze lingered on you, a frown marring his nearly perfect features.

“If you don’t get them back, then I sure the fuck will.” Gaz knew the risks that rescuing you would entail and right now he was willing to take that risk.

“Kyle, if you go running in there you’ll be dead before you can get to her. I’ll go with you.” Price was willing to do whatever it took to get you back.

“Sir.” Soap felt terrible, had he kept a closer eye on you this wouldn’t have happened.

“No, we need to start thinking about how we’re going to rescue her, I’ll call Laswell.” Price turned and walked off without waiting for anyone to follow.

Ale and Rudy were horrified, they’d known the men for quite a while, having only just met you a few months prior, and watching the way this had gone down? It sickened them, but they wouldn’t voice those opinions out loud. They’d do whatever needed to be done to rescue you, to make sure that you came back home alive.

You, Ghost, and Soap were all sitting in the cafeteria, trying to enjoy the MRE’s that had been given to you earlier that day. A new shipment wouldn’t be in for a few more days so you were suffering through what had been left over. They weren’t terrible, but it was obvious why these were the ones left over from everyone else. Ghost and Soap had been keeping conversation going between them from the moment you sat down. You didn’t bother to say a word, simply ate your rather dry and tasteless food and waited for it to be gone so you could leave.

It was becoming more obvious as each day passed how little they liked having you around, from the way they would simply ignore you, to even brushing you off when you tried to join the conversation. It had stung in the beginning, but this was something that happened quite often, and you weren’t going to sit there and whine like a child. No, instead you learned to hide the disappointment and hurt deep down inside. If John ever found out how you were mentally, he’d have you discharged before you could even blink and stop him.

“‘M tellin’ ya! You nevah believe me!” Soap was laughing at something Ghost had said, you were sure of that, but the effort to even pretend to listen was too much.

“Oh will you stop with that? I don’t need to believe ya if I don’ want to.” Ghost rolled his eyes, shoving another forkful of…something into his mouth.

Neither of them had so much as glanced at you in the twenty minutes it had been since you’d sat down, another reminder that you weren’t wanted. Your throat closed up slightly, a sickening feeling clawing at your chest as you tried to keep the negative thoughts at bay. That was all wiped away when Price walked in, your back straightened immediately. It was a habit you had tried to break so often but never seemed to be able to.

“At ease soldier, just here to let you know that we’ll be headed out at 0400, so I suggest you get ready to go.” Price nodded at you before heading out.

You would all be debriefed on the plane ride over, it was something Price had begun to do so you went into the mission with the details fresh in your mind. Unless things were sensitive, then he wouldn’t run the risk of the wrong person hearing. Maybe this would finally be the mission you’d be left behind, a girl could have dreams right?

Soap was pacing the room, mumbling to himself to figure out how he could even try and get back on your good side. It was his fault that you were not only shot, but also captured. Price had gotten into contact with Laswell the moment they were back to safety. She was furious, asking how you’d managed to get captured when it was a simple recon. Gaz had exploded then, telling her how Ghost and Soap had been too caught up in each other to keep an eye on you. Price had to calm him down, nearly threatening him.

“There’s been an update, and before any of you say anything I need you to watch this and not rip out each other’s throats.” Laswell turned towards the screen, hitting play.

The screen was blurry for a few seconds before your slumped over form became clearer, it was obvious they’d done a shitty patch up job to your wounds. Your wrists and ankles were bound to the chair, blood dripping down your temple.

“If you want her back, we want something as well.” A voice, presumably someone behind the camera, spoke.

You laughed loudly, the sound surely causing your head to throb as you struggled to sit upright in the wooden chair.

“You couldn’t have picked anyone worse to ransom. Everyone knows I'm expendable on the team, nothing but a throwaway.” Your smile tore at Price’s heart, you looked defeated, ready for the comforting embrace of death.

They growled in anger, fist colliding with your jaw as a sickening crack echoed through the speakers. You groaned, spitting blood onto the floor with a huff.

“You don’t understand, they’re never going to come back for me. You’re better off letting me just die.” Your body was begging for death now, pain surging through every nerve ending.

The man turned towards the camera, angry that you seemed so unwilling to help get whatever they were so desperate for.

“You have two days.” The screen suddenly went black, leaving the room completely silent.

Price walked over to Laswell, afraid of what answer he was going to get for the million questions running through his mind.

“How long do we have?” The video wasn’t brand new, they would never actually give the men enough time to properly plan.

“Less than twenty four hours, we found her location from that bracelet you gave her a few months ago.” Ghost’s head whipped around, why was his captain giving you gifts?

“Everyone gear up, we need to get her back before it’s too late.” Price wasn’t going to waste another second, not when you were so close to death.

The plane was fueled up and ready to go by the time everyone headed out, briefing over the plan during the flight. Gaz would go in guns blazing if it meant saving you, and he’d force Ghost and Soap to wait until they got you. It was reckless to think that way of course, and being angry with his teammates wouldn’t do him any good either. Once you were back and safe with them he’d reprimand the other two. It didn’t matter that Ghost ranked higher than him, he’d give those two an earful they’d never forget.

“Rudy, do you have eyes on her?” Price walked over to check the monitor, a small sigh of relief when he saw your outline.

You were still breathing, the motions slow and labored as you struggled with each breath. Rudy was going to stay on the plane, keeping an eye out to make sure no one tried to sneak on. It was a risky move, especially considering he’d be sitting alone, save for Nikolai. They each geared up, checking their weapons ammunition to make sure everything was loaded.

“Hold down the fort til we get back.” Price slapped a hand against Rudy’s shoulder, nodding towards Gaz and Ale to follow him.

Ghost knew better than to argue, Price was their leader and right now he was definitely on his shit list. Soap wasn’t getting off scot free either, it had been both of them that caused this entire situation. No, the focus was solely on you, Ghost could deal with the repercussions later on when you were safe.

Their footsteps were silent, Gaz lockpicking the door before heading inside behind Price and Ale, guns drawn high as they looked around for enemies. The air was thick with tension, sweat beading up underneath Price's hat as he tried to keep his breathing steady. The sound of fists colliding with skin they picked up pace. They’d managed to find you quicker than expected, but what awaited them beyond those doors?

“Tell us where they are!” It was the same voice as your abuser from the tape, they were enraged at how you simply laughed at their anger.

“I’m tellin’ ya, don’ know shit.” You groaned as his fist collided with your stomach, doubling over in the chair as much as you physically could.

They’d been interrogating you for hours, doing whatever they could to get any information from you before they’d finally send you into the afterlife. The pain was excruciating, resonating through your body like a livewire. How long would you last before you would finally succumb to the wounds that adorned your skin?

The sound of gunshots echoed inside the tiny room, deafening you as the pain in your skull amplified by a thousand. You’d surely had a concussion, if the amount of times you’d been punched had anything else to do with it. The scent of gunpowder and blood filled the air, though you were positive almost half of the blood was yours. A hand grabbing your face caused you to flinch back violently, a terrified screaming ripping from your lips.

“Please! No more!” Whoever had killed your captors wouldn’t have the best intentions for you.

“Sweetheart it’s me, we’re here to get you.” Gaz’s voice was calm, even if his heart was nearly beating out of his chest.

“Gaz.” Your eyes filled with tears, staring back at your teammate and friend.

Price stood right behind him, eyes filled with worry at your state, they needed to get you to a medic immediately. Gaz cut through the ropes binding you to the chair, helping you to stand up. It became obvious that one of your legs was broken as you stumbled in his hold, grabbing onto your thigh with a vice grip.

“Fuck, I’m gonna let Price carry you to the plane, we’ll get you hooked up to an IV to get some fluids in you, alright?” You could barely nod but it was enough of a confirmation to hand you over to Price.

He lifted you gently, cradling you in his arms as Gaz and Ale lead the way back out. Ghost and Soap were checking for any stragglers, not wanting to leave anyone else alive. They hadn’t managed to find anyone, or anything else of importance when they met back up with you. Soap could see the way Price was holding you, as if you would turn into dust in his arms. The two men wanted to apologize, to beg for your forgiveness but with Price it wouldn’t be allowed. You needed to make that decision on your own.

“Alright, we’re gonna get you back to base soon enough,” Price had let the team medic take over, checking your vitals and setting up an IV drip.

Ghost opened his mouth to apologize before Gaz’s glare stopped him in his tracks, Soap quietly sat down in a seat without so much as glancing at you. Clearly some things needed to be worked out, and right now they weren’t going to be talked about. Ghost never backed down from a challenge, not when it came to his teammates. He’d gotten enough shit from Soap to last him a lifetime, lord knows the other man never knew when to stop.

That was the whole point though, wasn’t it? He was being taught a very important lesson about how blind he’d become. Maybe not literally, but Ghost was focusing on the wrong things and it was biting him in the ass now. Soap didn’t seem any better, silently sulking in his seat as he went through a million different scenarios in his head. How long had you been suffering in silence while they simply ignored you? How terrible of a friend was he that he didn’t even notice what was going on.

“We left her at the pub one night.” Ghost nearly missed Soap’s words over the engine of the plane.

“What?” His head whipped around, when the hell had they genuinely forgotten you during a night out?

“Remember O’Malley’s? It was that one.” Soap felt the guilt eating at his soul.

Everything began to hit him like a freight train, they were neglecting you both and off the battlefield. You were an amazing teammate and an even better friend and they’d completely taken you for granted. They didn’t know anything about you aside from that you’d joined the army at eighteen and were now with the task force. The first thing Ghost would do was apologize and do whatever he could to help ease your pain.

“We’re about to land, already let them know we’ve got injuries.” The routine medic, a man named Jacob that couldn’t be any older than twenty two, began to prep you for departure.

You’d need surgery to set your leg properly, the break was most likely a shatter which would cause an intense infection. Nurses ran out to grab the gurney, rushing you inside to get you prepped and ready. Price stood at the top of the ramp, back turned towards everyone else.

“You will not go near her at all, she’s going to need space to process and heal. Do I make myself clear?” Price glanced over his shoulder at Soap and Ghost.

“Sir I-” “I said, do I make myself clear sergeant?” Price couldn’t let his emotions take over, but losing a teammate because of someone else’s negligence.

“Yes sir.” Soap straightened up in his seat, ignoring the way he felt like a scorned child.

“Good, we’ll have a debrief once she’s out of surgery.” You wouldn’t be joining, but once he knew you would be alright Price could finally relax.

The doctor and nurses worked quickly to fix the broken bones littered across your body, extracting pieces of bone that had dug into the muscle of your thigh. It took them over five hours to fix you completely, relaying the news to Price. His shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, the worry that you wouldn’t pull through finally gone. Now it was all about making sure you healed properly.

Laswell called them to the debriefing, waiting until everyone was seated before beginning with getting every piece of information. Her expression didn’t give away any emotion of how she felt, it wasn’t the smartest thing to do, getting attached to the task force. She was a little upset with them though, being unaware of your surroundings could cost your life.

“Unfortunately, she’s going to have to be discharged..permanently.” Price slammed his hands down.

“Absolutely not! You are not sending her off after everything that’s happened.” How could they just throw you away so easily?!

“I’m sorry John, this is even outside of my own jurisdiction. She got injured during a mission and might not be able to walk properly for a few years.” Fuck, you were going to be devastated hearing this.

“If she’s gone, then so am I.” Price was risking a lot for you, but you’d saved his life countless times before.

Laswell sighed, running a hand over her face before heading off to contact god knows who and see if they could keep you as part of the task force. He hadn’t fought to get this team together for nothing, and he would do whatever he could to keep everyone together. Things would work out, they had to.

—---------

You’d been struggling through physical therapy, learning to walk after having your right femur reconstructed was not easy. Price had found you the best physical therapist in all of England, determined to make sure you made a full recovery. It warmed your heart that he was so willing to help, to make sure that you were safe. He’d been by your side for months, helping you settle into your apartment and all but moving into the spare bedroom.

“Sweetheart, you’re doing amazing.” Price was standing at the opposite end of the walk way, ready to catch you in case you lost your balance.

“Fucking hurts.” You winced, arms shaking as you struggled to keep yourself upright.

Price hadn’t wanted to tell you, but Ghost and Soap had wanted to apologize, to sit down and have a discussion about everything. He wouldn’t push the subject if you disagreed, you deserved to be treated with respect first and foremost. It would be better to wait until you were back in the apartment where you could relax. Maybe he could give you one of his sweaters to wear, you always seemed to relax when wearing his clothes.

Your physical therapist was happy with your progress, saying that you were exceeding expectations and could possibly go down to three days a week instead of four. It made you feel a little bit better, knowing you were doing so well. You hadn’t been in the apartment for longer than two minutes before Price was wrapping one of his jackets around your shoulders. It was something he tended to do when he had bad news.

“Now you have every right to say no, but Johnny and Simon want to come by and talk.” John waited to see how you would react, knowing physical therapy had been a good day he felt optimistic.

“What’s there to even talk about? That they don’t see me as anything other than an annoyance? John, we're having a good day, I don’t want to ruin it.” Your eyes were pleading with him.

He wanted to argue that this conversation needed to happen or else things would only get worse for everyone. So, instead of listening to your pleas of “don’t you dare call them” John let them know to come over. He’d make it up to you later with a great dinner and some dessert. After all it was the very least he could do after subjecting you to their antics. Hopefully Johnny didn’t end up saying the wrong thing and pissing you off even more.

—-----

No one had dared utter a word for nearly ten minutes once Johnny and Simon arrived. The taller of the two had forgone even his surgical mask, muttering how it felt wrong to hide. Johnny was twiddling his thumbs, waiting for someone to break the ice so that he could make amends. John had made you a cup of cocoa(extra marshmallows and whipped cream as always). Simon sighed to himself before straightening up in his seat on the couch.

“No amount of I’m sorries will ever be enough for what happened. We never truly realized how shitty our actions were because we’d gotten so used to routine that adding someone else didn’t feel natural. I’m not saying that as an excuse, you didn’t deserve what happened, and I fully blame myself for you getting taken and for all of this.” Simon gestured vaguely to where you were perched in what was apparently John’s favorite chair.

You glanced at Simon over the rim of your mug, sipping the warm liquid as you soaked in his words. Simon wanted to mention the dollop of whipped cream on the end of your nose, but John beat him to it. He reached over and gently turned your head to face him, wiping off the cream with his thumb. Your smile was radiant, eyes sparkling as you stared back at your captain. 

Oh.

Oh.

This was something entirely new, but it also explained why John had been so angry that you were going to be discharged originally. Somehow they’d convinced Laswell, and whoever else, that you were too much of an essential player to lose. You were in love, and here they were intruding on an otherwise very personal moment. John suddenly seemed to remember the other two were there, awkwardly clearing his throat before sitting back in his seat.

“It’s going to take a while before I can fully trust you guys again, I’ve been through a lot in my life but having my teammates basically throw me to the wolves? It fucking hurts.” Maybe it was time to finally come clean about your life and who you truly were.

You couldn’t stop the words from spilling out, telling them about your abusive home life growing up before finally making it out and finding a purpose in life. How on every break you would stay on base and make sure it looked like you’d left when they all came back home. You didn’t want their pity, you just needed them to finally understand why you were hurt by their actions.

John had carefully scooped you up and placed you into his lap when tears began to slide down your cheeks, comforting you the best way he could. Simon could understand your pain, having dealt with abuse from his own father growing up. It was a reminder that sometimes the strongest people were often hiding the darkest past. He’d done the same thing for years, refusing to open up and let anyone close.

“We really just wanted to apologize for treating you like shit, and wanting to make sure that you were doing better now.” Johnny could see that even being shot, tortured, and left for dead that you still had that shine to you.

“I know, I’m just going to need time to process everything, it hasn’t been easy.” You wanted to forgive them, but deep down the feeling that it would happen all over again ate at your mind.

“I understand lass.” Johnny nodded, he would gladly give you time to process and even see if you could forgive him.

John set you back into the chair so he could walk Johnny and Simon out, promising to keep in touch if anything changed. He wouldn’t disrespect your decision, and with the other two being on board he wasn’t going to argue. Now it was time to sit and think about what he could make for you to make up for everything.

“Hey, I just want to say thank you for everything you’ve been doing, it means a lot.” You pushed yourself off the chair slowly, stepping over to John who looked seconds away from panicking.

“You don’t need to thank me love, it’s my pleasure.” He kept his hands out, ready to help in case you needed it.

“You’re doing a lot more than you might think, so yes, I do need to thank you.” You rested your hands on his shoulders, slightly winded at how far you’d had to walk.

John’s hands slid to your waist, pulling your body closer to his. He wanted to lie and say it was only because he was afraid you’d stumble. How would you react to hearing about his true feelings? Knowing that he’d harbored a crush for frankly much too long than was appropriate to be honest. Your gaze landed on his face, lips parted as you watched the way his eyes dilated ever so slightly. John couldn’t stop himself before he was kissing you, lips pressed softly against yours. You would be a liar if you’d said you hadn’t dreamt of this before, hoping that John felt the same way towards you.

You were the first to pull away, face flushed and lungs desperate for air as you clung to the cotton shirt John wore. A small chuckle slipped through his lips, fingers digging into your hips as he pulled your bodies closer.

“I’ve wanted to do that for quite a while if I’m being honest.” Your heart was racing, had you really heard him correctly?

“So have I.” You rested your forehead against his chest, relishing in the warmth he exuded.

Neither of you made to move from the kitchen, simply wrapped in each other’s embrace. You couldn’t forgive Simon and Johnny for causing the damage they did. But maybe they helped push you into the right direction. tagging: @gaylemonshark

#john price #captain john price #captain johnathan price #john price x reader #john price x you #john price x y/n #john price angst #john price fluff #john price fanfiction #john price fic #john price mw2 #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #alejandro vargas #rodolfo parra #rudy parra #kate laswell #tw wounds #tw injury #tw torture

[comradekatara]

So… in the modern AU, does Hahn exist? Does he have a role? Is he some random jerk at their school who wanted Yue? Mushy’s gotta know.

when it comes to modern aus, the trick is merging contemporary tropes with the implications of the source material. for instance, in a modern high school setting, hahn is of course the arrogant meathead jock (quarterback of the football team or whatever) who feels entitled to any girl he wants. yue is the most beautiful girl in his class, and he wants her. he thinks that she's much to good for sokka, and makes that opinion known. this is pretty obvious stuff. but then theres the fact that hahn is in an arranged marriage with yue. i imagine arnook to be some kind of titan of industry (chief of the northern water tribe versus chief executive officer) who is in a business alliance (i know that's probably not the correct term) with hahn's father, and ever since they were children, there's been this tacit agreement that once they reached a certain age, they would marry. because hahn marrying yue isn't just an arranged marriage, but a political marriage. so in modern au, hahn wouldn't just feel entitled to yue out of arrogance, but genuinely feels as if they are fated to marry, and resents sokka for swooping in and stealing something from him that is rightfully his. now, arnook likes sokka a lot, but he also likes his money, and knows that giving to yue to hahn is more lucrative and strategic. but because it's 21st century new jersey, he can't just sell his daughter off for power. he has to try to convince her to change her mind, even though any idiot can see that sokka is far better suited to her than hahn. so while yue doesn't actually have any legal obligation to marry hahn, she still has to suffer through many tedious, torturous dinners with hahn's family (although thankfully they have phones in this world, which means that yue can text sokka amusing little updates under the table), and with hahn's incessant flirtation, not to mention his snide, classist remarks to sokka during class (which he mostly ignores except for that one time he talked about yue like she was a piece of meat. katara filmed the whole fight it was the greatest day of her life btw). after yue dies, hahn starts a rumor that sokka killed her, but it sort of has the opposite effect as intended, since hahn is saying that and hahn is always wrong (e.g., he thought the capital of new jersey was new york), so it actually helps to alleviate some of sokka's guilt. not much, granted, but still. thanks hahn.

#sokka still does feel responsible for yue's death even though logically he knows that he wasn't #but every time hahn or one of hahn's stupid friends parrots that back to him he feels it a little less #mushy-giant-friends-for-life #asks #modern au #hahn #sokka #yue #sokkaxyue #arnook #i love thinking abt modern au genuinely thank u for these questions

[prying-pandora666]

I Just Need To Vent

So I’m a writer and storyteller who also sings and sews. I know this is a strange place for this but I NEED to vent about the most insane choir practice I’ve EVER experienced!

Let me introduce you to the choir members in this story because it is WILD.

First we have the actual choir director. Let’s call him… Boss.

Secondly, the students. This isn’t all of them, but at least the ones I can remember. The names have been changed etc etc.

Manuel - Top of the class. Total teacher’s pet. The kinda guy who follows all the rules to the letter, even when it’s annoying. He really loved his pet birds and was all around a fair and likeable guy though, despite being kinda naive and easily fooled.

Good thing he had his gf.

Valencia - Manuel’s gf. Super smart, both book-wise and street-wise. You couldn’t fool her. She was also really athletic and SUPER GORGEOUS. Anytime she entered a room, she lit it up. She was that radiant. This one guy Micheal was down bad for her, but we’ll get to him later.

Aaron - You know that guy that’s really good with his hands? That was Aaron. He could fix things, make things, build things. I’d later see these incredible figurines he made and painted. Guy was an artisan. But he was also the kinda guy to bend the rules when he got too excited.

Ulrich - Besties with Manuel. I didn’t know him well. He was kind of a loner, unlike Manuel who was so outgoing. But he seemed chill! He was super into the ocean and marine life. He usually was pretty nice but if you got on his bad side? He had a hella temper.

Yasmin - Aaron’s gf. She was the hippy girl that is super into nature and the environment. She was always planting things. That kind of lady. Surprisingly, she wasn’t too overbearing about it? I only really ever saw her argue about it with Aaron and—ugh—Michael. Friggin Michael.

Tyler - An MMA fighter. Total meathead. He wasn’t a bully exactly? But he was always ready to throw down at a moment’s notice. That kind of energy.

Owen - Had a podcast about surviving in the wild and was super into camping and hunting and horseback riding. Made his own leather.

Vanessa - I think she might’ve dated Owen? I don’t remember. But I know she was Yasmin’s little sister and also kind of an animal loving hippy.

Ester - She was a nurse. Really caring and looked after everyone.

Then there were these three siblings, Manfred, Natalie, and Lanz.

Manfred - A lawyer. Really serious. No nonsense. Kind of a killjoy but fair minded.

Natalie - Grief counselor. She took on so much emotional labor for EVERYONE.

Lanz - Suffered from epilepsy which made him have some wild hallucinations sometimes. He needed a lot of care.

Oh wait! I almost forgot one before we get to MICHAEL.

Noelle - I think she was dating Owen? NGL I remember her the least. She was also a dancer and had incredible body control. But outside of her admittedly very impressive dancing, I can’t recall anything more about her.

And finally MICHAEL.

Friggin MICHAEL.

Look I don’t even know how to describe Michael. But fair to say he is both the protagonist and the antagonist of this story. Here is my best attempt to capture that magnificent jerk-off as best as I possibly can in my own words.

Michael - The most beautiful man you will ever see. Talented at everything. Anything anyone else in this choir group he could do? He could at least replicate at a passable level if not outright master. Give him an evening to learn a subject and he’d be proficient if not an expert

Michael HATED Manuel. A feeling Manuel didn’t return, and often tried to be friendly with Michael only for Michael to pull a fast one on Manuel.

Did I mention these two were BROTHERS!?

Yeah. Imagine what that family home must’ve been like. Yikes.

Okay so on to the story.

So one day, BOSS calls us all in to record this song he’s been working on.

Now you have to understand, this was a musically gifted group. To say they were beyond average skill level is an understatement.

We all knew this was going to be LIT.

So everyone already knows the song. I don’t know if they’d gotten the sheet music earlier or what, but basically everyone was already 100% familiar with how it goes.

But Boss was the kind of music teacher who really wanted his adult students to express themselves creatively.

As such, he basically gave everyone free rein to rehearse the song however they wanted.

Yasmin wants folk rock? Done.

Ulrich is feeling more metal? Sure.

Valencia wants rhythm and Tyler takes that an excuse to SMASH DRUMS while he sings his part? As long as it’s on beat.

You’d think this would create a horrible cacophony! But surprisingly, no. Boss had everyone so well trained that it was like they all locked in and even as they added their own flair and unique flavors, it all sorta… came together?

It was incredible. A mash-up of genres and styles performed by a team of some of the most talented singers in the entire world, as I knew it! I’d never heard anything like it. I was speechless. I couldn’t look away for a moment. Boss was a genius.

There was just one problem.

Michael.

Friggin Michael.

So here’s the thing. Michael was the best singer.

I won’t pretend that’s not true. Even in a group of god-tier choir singers, Michael was on another level. The guy was a stand-out among stand-outs and Boss knew it.

But so did Michael.

And he NEEDED to prove it.

Anyone who has ever been involved in the arts has probably encountered a Michael. That person who is ungodly talented but a so insecure and narcissistic that they just have to constantly PROVE IT? Even at the cost of whatever you’re trying to perform?

Yeah. That’s exactly it.

So Michael chimes in and starts singing OBNOXIOUSLY LOUD. Trying to drown out literally EVERYONE ELSE.

Boss notices but like a patient teacher trying to sculpt Michael’s talents, he just signals to some of the others to pipe up their harmonies more to support Michael.

But a well supported solo isn’t enough for Michael. Oh no. Not content to simply be the star for a section of the song, Michael starts singing IN THE WRONG KEY.

Look, I’m no expert in music, but even I could hear what he was doing. His gorgeous, powerful voice, singing so well. BUT IN THE COMPLETELY WRONG KEY!

I looked at Boss and he seemed to sigh. But instead of stopping, he tweaked a few things, signaled to the others to change their parts they were signing (it all went above my head so sorry if I’m not being very detailed), to work in Michael.

Soon Michael’s discordance actually worked! The song was a little more crunchy rather than perfectly harmonious, but the slight dissonance actually made it all the more haunting and beautiful. In a way it was even better than before.

Like I said, Boss was a genius.

Which only pissed Michael off more.

And so, clearly desperate for attention and pushed to his limit, Michael jumped so far out of line that the line was left in the dust.

He went CRAZY. If Boss’ song went high? Michael sung bass. If the song went low? Michael sung soprano.

It was like a musical battle except Michael was the only one fighting.

If someone else tried to contribute a neat little flourish or solo? Michael RAN UP TO THEM and drowned them out with his bullshit! I’m serious!

I thought for sure Boss was going to stop the song, but no.

Boss was starting to lose his patience. That much I could tell. But still he persevered, trying to just get to the end of the piece at the very least!

Soon some of the other choir members started dropping out. Michael was ruining it for everyone.

As I remember:

Valencia stopped, rolled her eyes, and refused to engage any further. She sat down and waited for the piece to end.

Vanessa broke into tears which got Yasmin to stop and glare at Michael.

Several of the others either lowered their voices or stopped altogether.

But not Manuel.

Goodie two-shoes Manuel had just tuned out the class and was only looking at Boss for instruction. Singing the song exactly as he was supposed to.

Nothing made Manuel miss a single note or beat. He was in the zone. No matter how chaotic or awful Michael’s disruptions got.

This only served to piss off Michael more, who started singing at the top of his lungs RIGHT at Manuel.

But Manuel didn’t even flinch. It was like he had Michael on IRL server mute.

So Ulrich, who had sat out with Valencia, sees this go down. He realizes this is getting to Michael.

Remember how I said Ulrich was usually chill but had a temper if you got on his bad side? And how he was besties with Manuel?

Yeah, Ulrich also couldn’t stand Michael.

So Ulrich gets up and decides he’s gonna be Manuel’s ride or die. Ulrich starts singing again. Louder.

The more mad and crazy Michael gets, the more Ulrich backs up Manuel on the part they’re SUPPOSED to be singing.

Michael notices he’s been challenged and just goes HARDER. But Ulrich is in it to win it and won’t back down.

This gets Aaron’s attention. Never one to say no to a chance to try something new, especially if he gets to bend the rules a little bit, Aaron gets hyped and stands by Ulrich, joining him in his crusade. Now it’s Aaron and Ulrich backing up Manuel while Michael rages and sings furiously at all three of them.

This whole time? Manuel obliviously just keeps singing.

So Tyler, who at this point is only half-assedly doing a note here and there, realizes this has turned into a fight.

So HE squares up and starts copying Ulrich and Aaron. He just wants to be a part of the conflict. Classic Tyler. 🙄

Natalie thinks Tyler might lose control so she gets up to chime in and temper him a bit.

Manfred won’t leave his sister to herself so he tells Lanz to rest with Ester and joins in to back up his sister in the good fight. Manfred always liked order.

Owen at this point decides, yeah okay whatever, let’s do this. Noelle hasn’t stopped dancing so she just starts singing again.

Soon most of them are back in it now, all of them backing up Manuel who has just been oblivious to the resistance movement he has accidentally started. He just wanted to sing the song real good and make Boss proud.

But everyone else knows what’s up, especially Valencia, who rallies the stragglers.

Michael is LOSING HIS MIND at this point. I’m not even sure he’s singing. He’s practically just screaming. Even Boss can’t work with this anymore.

Still, Boss expertly conducts so that Michael’s strongest and most triumphant notes still fit into the wider song. It’s a war zone.

FINALLY, with great frustration and a giant crescendo, Boss at last ends the song.

Everyone stops, winded, catching their breaths and surveying the room in confusion. No one says a word.

Michael stares right at Boss. Unblinking. Daring him to say something.

Boss reveals he’s been recording this entire time.

He pulls out his computer and plays it all back for us to see what we have created.

And with great authority, he looks right at Michael and says that he chose every single one of them for a reason.

That their talents he has fostered in them for so long are exactly the ingredients he needed to complete his magnum opus.

And that INCLUDES Michael’s shenanigans.

Every sour note.

Every crunchy bit of dissonance.

Boss wanted it all in there. It’s his masterpiece. And it’s just the way he wanted it.

Michael, predictably, throws a tantrum and storms off to the corner like a child. But everyone else is awed with the result. For a first draft, it’s phenomenal. Unlike anything anyone’s ever made before. They can’t wait to start workshopping it to get the finished product.

Anyway that’s all. Thanks for listening, you guys.

This is Vera, storyteller and weaver, signing off.

——————————————————————

If you’ve followed the story thus far, I am ready to reveal to you that this isn’t a real life event.

This is the Lord of the Rings creation myth. I just tricked you into reading the beginning of The Silmarillion.

And if you’re dying to know what happened next?

The book is widely available and written with language so beautiful it will make you cry.

So check it out and find out what happens to that asshole Michael aka Melkor.

Because Sauron ain’t got a THING on him!

#Lord of the rings #lotr #the silmarillion #silmarillion memes #ainulindale

[letterstotheflre]

I loved the fic but I’m greedy for more. Please share mermaid!readers dark fantasy 🤲

heheh thank u for spoiling me n asking about this bc i thought too much about it

cw: dark || 18+ only [ft. kidnapping, implied cnc, rape is mentioned once but not referring to eddie, chrissy or reader] || also i apologise i feel like eddie doesn’t sound like eddie sorry :/

mermaid!reader fantasies about a human male kidnapping her are kind of like some of our fantasies about rape n cnc kinks. chrissy knows about them bc you asked her is she ever thought about that once jane (aka eleven) came back. she doesn't have them, but she doesn't judge obvi. n eddie... eddie finds out on accident. kinda like the little argument u guys have in the fic where chrissy mentions it. n he can't let it go bc he takes it as if you're still afraid of him (when in reality you would like it very much if he kidnapped you and chrissy and kept you like toys)

so after much talking and prodding and a few tears from you bc you're so embarrassed about even thinking about those scenarios when some of your mermaid sisters have actually suffered through them, you guys are able to create the ultimate sex scene.

it's a full moon, which means that you and chrissy are finally able to transform into women. but there's a catch— you have to return to the water before the sun rises or you will stay human until the next full moon.

so eddie, with his ship and his crew, sail past the waters where you live and lower their anchor. eddie sells them the story about a magnificent treasure lost in a sunken ship in that very same spot and tells them to lower one of the fishnets to see if they can catch something for dinner.

"we cought something!" one of the crew shouts, struggling to rise the net by himself. the members closest to him run to help him, their groans echoing in the otherwise silent night.

"my god," another one whispers in shock when he sees what they caught. he taps gareth's side, eyes glued forward. "call the captain. tell him he needs to come to the deck immediately."

the crew stands in a circle while they wait for gareth to come back with eddie. and right in the middle of it is you and chrissy, hugging each other under the net and cowering beneath their stares. some of them are fascinated, others hungry with lust.

your scales tingle.

"well, well, well. what do we have here?" you'd recognise that voice anywhere. you sit up a little straighter. eddie pushes to men aside and steps into the circle, not bothering to remove the net. "you're a little far from home, aren't you?"

it's exactly what chrissy said to him the first day you met. you squirm, heart pounding. "let us go."

eddie chuckles and crouches down to your height, face partially illuminated by the moon light. he looks beautiful. he strokes your cheek through one of the holes in the net. "and why would i do that sweetheart? i just caught two beautiful mermaids and, between you and me," he stage whispers, scrunching his nose in that cute way he does and tilting his head to the side, "i have been feeling a little lonely up in this ship with these meatheads. need something to keep me warm at night, if you know what i mean."

you gulp in excitement but all the crew sees is two mermaids cowering in fear.

chrissy squeezes your arm and meekly says, "w-we'll give you treasure, anything, if you—"

"i have the greatest treasure right in front of my eyes, honey. what could possibly be better than the two of you, hm?" he waits for your answers patiently, tapping his shin with his fingers. he grins when neither of you speaks. "that's right; nothing."

that's when he finally takes the net off you, his fingers brushing your tail. the fins at the end flick almost minisculely and eddie's smile grows wider. "oh, we're going to have a lot of fun together." he looks predatory in this light. you know he's nothing of the sort. it makes it even more attractive. "welcome aboard hellfire, little mermaids."

#basically the crew really believes they caught you and eddie kidnapped u and is using you #but the three of you know the truth #strangerthings.musings #eddiemunson #chrissycunningham #poly!eddissy #dark #mermaid!au #eddie munson x reader #chrissy cunningham x reader

[bleubrri]

pervert!armin pt3

contains- dubcon, yandere-ish armin (foreshadowing), blackmail/manipulation, stalking, hacking, mention of nsfw, brief timeskip below the cut

[mature content]

pervert!armin who thinks long and hard about how to deal with your ex, porco. that meathead has to suffer- armin will make him suffer. he’s careful. calculated. he watches him for a month straight, learns his schedule down to the most seemingly pointless details. he knows his practice schedule, even the out of town games. he knows which of his equally dim friends’ houses he parties at on the weekends. he knows that he fucks the head cheerleader pieck in the third floor science lab at thursday lunchtimes. it’s not until a particularly dull evening of watching porco through his window literally measure his dick with a ruler that armin knows what to do. his eyes light up as he sees the flash of a camera as porco aims his phone at his crotch. oh yes, he knows exactly what to do.

pervert!armin who can already hear the muffled moans as he walks down the third floor corridor the following thursday. the buzz of his phone makes him pause, only to see that you’ve sent him a selfie, smiling over your sandwich in the park and wishing him fun at AV club. he shoots an i love you back and silences his phone. he hates being apart from you, but he has to do this- for your sake. he slips into the science lab and rolls his eyes at the sound of the beakers and glassware inside the storage cupboard rattling in time with each thrust behind the door. he spots a familiar backpack thrown haphazardly across a desk and gets to work.

pervert!armin who finds it oh so easy to install the malware and clone porco’s laptop and phone. he’s in and out in all of five minutes- he’s not top of his coding class for no reason. a smug smile is painted across his face later that night as the blue light from his PC reflects off of his glasses and illuminates his room in a sinister glow. he’s giddy with how much material he has to work with, can practically feel his neurons firing at lightning speed as his fingers flash across the keyboard. he makes the file and exports it to his laptop for safe keeping; you never know, that slimy bastard might need to be dealt with again. he’ll keep an eye on him. he finds the result is pretty instantaneous- the next morning the campus is alight with gossip. turns out the school board don’t offer scholarships to lacrosse captains who send unsolicited nudes to the entire school. word has it that he’ll be off campus by the end of the week. when he asks you about it, you furrow your brows and sigh. you’re muttering in disbelief about how you can’t believe it. he reaches out and laces your fingers together, assuring you he’s just a manipulative asshole who can’t hurt you anymore. you give him a half-hearted smile and hum in agreement.

~✮☽˚~

pervert!armin who’s never been happier in the months that he’s been with you. he’s like a whole new person because of your time together. the final semester’s coming to an end and he wants to ask you to move in with him next year- he rarely leaves your apartment anyway, it’s the smart choice really. you bring out the best in him. he barley has to look at the folder of your.. candids on his computer anymore. once a week tops. he only reads your texts when it’s a number he doesn’t recognise, only takes one pair of panties from your laundry a month.

pervert!armin who can’t wait to wake up to you like this everyday, groggy and clinging to him as if he’d ever let you go. he loves mornings like this, loves lazily suckling on your clit as you weakly grip his hair, still shrouded in your sleepy haze. eventually you’re sat opposite him at the kitchen island as you both prepare to submit your final assignments of the year. with two clicks, a flurry of mutual congratulations and a sweet kiss to your pretty lips, armin grabs his keys and begins walking to the cafe to pick up a celebratory breakfast for you both. he smiles and tips the barista. he’s practically skipping back to your apartment, bagels and drinks in hand and vision hazy with the rose coloured glasses he seems to view the world with. he’s vibrating with anticipation- he’s gonna ask you the big question as soon as he gets back. a syrupy smile takes over his face, he can practically hear your honeyed voice chanting yes yes yes.

and pervert!armin who’s smile drops and heart plummets to the core of the fucking earth when he enters the kitchen to find you curled up on the floor. there’s a glass of water shattered next to you as if your arms went limp and legs gave out where you stood. he tries to swallow the lump in his throat as you look up at him with trembling lips and tears gushing down your face as you turn his laptop towards him. he releases a shuddering breath, a barely audible whisper of your name escaping him as he sees- as you’ve seen- the folder he has of you. every photo he’s ever taken in one convenient little compilation on his fucking laptop. his jaw locks and his fists clench as you sniff and open the file he has on porco. your whole body is shaking now, and you choke down the bile rising in your throat, your voice hoarse from the scream that ripped through your chest just five minutes before he came back through the door.

“what have you done armin?”

#armin arlert #armin x reader #armin x black reader #armin imagines #armin scenarios #aot x reader #aot #snk #snk x reader #armin smut #armin arlert x black reader smut #attack on titan x reader smut #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan armin #armin arlert drabbles #aot drabbles #armin arlert headcanons #aot hcs #aot smut #armin arlert smut #shingeki no kyojin smut #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #yandere armin arlert #yandere aot

[jennelikejennay]

Couldn't sleep last night so I made a mental list of all the characters in The Locked Tomb to check for anybody, literally anyone at all, who abides by gender roles. Because while it's true that some people exist in the book who aren't noticeably queer, even the apparently straight people aren't doing gender according to any 1st through 21st century standard. Heck, the whole cav/necro dynamic is a gender inversion—the buff one serves the physically frail one.

There are some spoilers.

So we begin.

The Second House, Judith and Marta. Girls but military. Not gender conforming.

The Third House. We have buff lady Corona, prince Ianthe, and lip balm Babs. No gender roles here.

The Fourth House. A sword swinging girl and a frail boy with a braid and earrings. 404 gender not found.

The Fifth House is so conventional, right? Okay but remember the wife is the boss and the husband sends invitations, takes care of kids, and is a wife guy. Only moderate levels of gender here.

Sixth: again, brainy boy, sword lady. In any traditional fantasy (see: Wheel of Time) these would be gender swapped.

Seventh: I don't see Dulcie breaking any gender norms because she is too busy being mostly dead. Pro however writes lyric poems, so he's at any rate not a total meathead.

Eighth: their gender is being assholes. No obvious non conformity anyway. They are too busy sucking.

Ninth: who's the girl, the sword swinging porn viewing meathead or the filthy trash goblin? Which among them is pretty and coy and submissive? I vote Harrow as more femme by process of elimination but I can't think of a single time she performed femininity and was comfortable with it.

Jod: plays with barbies.

Mercymorn: not strongly gendered but I don't see any non conformity.

Augustine: ditto.

Gideon: very manly, which is why it's funny that half the time his body is piloted by a girl.

Wake: what says femininity like an orange haz suit and a giant gun? She actually reproduces with her own body, that's very womanly of her, but she calls it Bomb.

The Angel: we don't even know the Angel's gender, not really. I think Nona's right to use she/her and the Angel clearly likes that, but all the descriptions given suggest she may be presenting as a man and then there's all the plural stuff.

We Suffer: if I were doing stereotypes I would not have the masked terrorist cell leader be a girl

Pash: or the bodyguard

Nona: I could write a term paper on whether she in fact counts as female at all, but character wise she's another of those characters that doesn't have much gender suggested at all.

Resolved: in The Locked Tomb, gender is simply not a thing except when it is subverted. Did Jod create a utopia where nobody has gender expectations in the first place? Or do our characters just have too much on their mind to get surprised when a lady calls herself a prince? Either way, it's heckin refreshing and one of the things I love about the series.

#the locked tomb #Gideon the Ninth #locked tomb spoilers #gender

[horizon-verizon]

Full disclosure: I was on the side of the Blacks, even knowing that they eventually lose (or, rather, Rhaenyra herself loses). It’s absolutely unambiguous that Viserys I absolutely meant Rhaenyra to succeed him, and equally unambiguous that the Hightowers were the ones who usurped her and screwed it all up.

Having said that, after reading both novellas, Rhaenyra comes off like a spoiled and entitled brat, just perhaps to a lesser extent than her family members. She took for granted that she’d be queen without any challenges, when the experience of Rhaenys before her should have been a wake-up call that she needed to regularly secure her power. Not fair, but there you go.

And of course, she eventually descends into a pit of paranoia and cruel retaliation down the line, going so far as to demand that her own dragonriders be executed just because she made a poor judgment about some of them (give two meatheads access to huge dragons, what could go wrong). How she ended up is largely her own fault; it didn’t have to go that way, especially since she was on the legally right side.

Aegon II is no alternative. He is a whoring hedonist and rapist filled with entitlement issues and rage. He fails to understand that his Hand, Otto, seeks diplomatic solutions to the conflict. A good king will always choose peace over war as the realm suffers and the smallfolk pay the price. He tells him to spill blood, not ink. Eventually, he replaces him with the more bloodthirsty Criston Cole, who irrationally hates Rhaenyra, and forces nobles to choose him as king or die. The Greens back tyranny and bloodshed.

At the end of the day, both Aegon and Rhaenyra do a terrible job as ruler when they get their chance. They destroy all good will toward them and exhaust the realm. Both Rhaenyra and Aegon care more about THEIR own power, THEIR claims, THEIR rights than the people they are supposed to govern.

Responding, I think to these two: Post #1 & Post #2.

I think I understand where you're coming from. Why shouldn't we shoot for the best possible leader and "settle" for someone who wouldn't put their poorer subjects first? Why encourage that, or at least, what is the value? And I can understand why a person wouldn't want to stan or support Rhaenyra based on her personality alone. This statement is true: "Both Rhaenyra and Aegon care more about THEIR own power, THEIR claims, THEIR rights than the people they are supposed to govern". Because of neither book! nor show!Rhaenyra never once seemed to think about common folk in a substantive way even if she over Aegon would be just a better candidate. no other sources outside of Fire and Blood reveal much either.

A)

However, apart from Alicent also being a heavy-duty blood purist who never looked out for other women--even seized power from another woman entirely for herself and her house's patriarchal prestige and power (Rhaenyra was never a tyrant before King's Landing and the greens' usurpation), Rhaenyra should be destroyed not because she was a woman, but for her blood purity.

Yet she is destroyed and put in a more vulnerable position far before she fucks up because she is a noblewoman in a man's (and the misogynist woman behind him) way. There is value in seeing how this happens or could happen.

To go through the layers binding the Westerosi/feudalist paradigm of blood purity, we also need to inspect the misogyny for what it is/looks like and it becomes harder to do that when we constantly push aside the events and psychosocial-political processes leading up to Rhaenyra's end for her own final choices.

In some Greek tragedies and especially plays like Othello & Titus Andronicus, the protagonist has a major personal fault that stems from primary circumstances & historical events totally out of that protagonist's control. Then inspiring the protagonist to make personal or political decisions & develop qualities that address & oppose or foil plots, settings, institutions, and measures made against them and their desires or needs. So because we can trace how they developed into the persons they are and how much of it was due to misogyny, racism, blood purity, classism, etc., AND Rhaenyra did not do anything heinous or really of the moral error until she retook King's Landing. We saw how her need to impulsively self-assert against threats against her power after a lifetime of attempted sidelining, disrespect, and denial basically unlocked and revealed her blood purity. That blood purity was her weapon and armor.

Yes. Criticize her for that blood purity. Recognize that she herself made the Rosby/Stokeworth-dragonseeds-Nettles decisions to consolidate power and the sense of power (for all the pressure she was getting thinking she'd lose allies like Corlys) and that her decision was wrong. Were self-destructive short term and long term. Point out how by it being her choice to do these two things she has accountability for her own fall. Point out how she partially pushed herself over that edge. Acknowledge and also put less emphasis on how Viserys didn't teach her as much as he might have for a boy (Jaehaerys I wasn't trained like maybe Aegon the Uncrowned, but making Rhaenyra's education also kinda takes away her ability and the existence of her choosing how to maintain her power).

I only fear that people will totally subsume one for the other and claim that one objectively doesn't matter at all.

In other words, for me and some others, it is the focus on misogyny's cruelty regardless of an individual's moral compass, misogyny's dehumanization the dynamics of that dehumanization so that personality/personal goals and values come to not matter, and guide aan already not-so-good person into being even worse. It's a tragedy of a particular human-social condition that itself created another tragedy for a different person as well as its own protagonist.

Once we understand this about these royals, there is still this phenomenon about the rules made and disrupted of the right to have power that is still important to explore:

people both in Westeros and in real life are not this far-thinking and will/have just considered the right to rule to be morally and practically a man's inherent right, and will make all sorts of justifications and prevarications for it. So that it is valuable and meaningful to inspect how we may justify such a thing. They do not want good leaders so much as a male ones to maintain patriarchal order. They'd rather have a morally/strategically mediocre male leader over a more capable/moral female one most of the time; they'd rather have a morally-horrible male one rather than a morally-mediocre female leader (Aegon and Rhaenyra). How embedded in society and in individuals' psyches, how--in detail--do women come to destroy others and/or themselves and loved ones for the power that is denied/reduced to them? So, there's the need to focus on how women self-assert anyway, even when they display behaviors that one may not want in a leader. It's about a different kind of leveling the playing field, between noble women and noble men...but it is still about leveling that field. Seeing a wrong, learning how it was wrong, recognizing it as wrong, and seeing how it still comes to shit.

Because misogyny tends to not care about fairness, misogynists will use the women's personality faults to re-support the idea that women, in general, cannot and should not rule... because the society/readers are already lubricated for that disbelief in women through centuries-long misogyny. Even logical arguments alone against misogynist readings are not enough to erase misogyny's influence. This is why you will see a lot of people be defensive in stanning Rhaenyra.

And I have to point out that I already explained why Rhaenyra is culpable for her downfall towards the end concerning Nettles, The dragonseeeds and Stokeworth/Rosby, how she uses blood purity--aka racism's grandfather and partner-- AND how she is concerning Rosby and Stokeworth.

B)

You wanna know why else Rhaenyra is stanned nevertheless? In one of those posts I gave, I explain somewhat but I will add and summarize:

HotD is telling this particular ASoIaF story RIGHT NOW -- more attention, therefore more attention to its characters in lieu of the ASoIaF desert and GoT flop

HotD, by inspiring curiosity from some--and appreciation in book readers who may have slogged through the Dance account-- revitalized closer inspections into Rhaenyra's character and motivations

HotD, by inspiring curiosity from some--and appreciation in book readers who may have slogged through the Dance account-- revitalized more "scholarly" examinations into how Fire and Blood is written as a misogynist text -> revealed the misogynist arguments towards her and allowed more people to observe the "hidden" politicking in the account told about the social landscape of the court/wider Westeros in Rhaenyra and Alicent's time

the blacks are less disgustingly amoral than the greens and people love to take sides to feel more emotionally invested in the story that is being told RIGHT NOW

her kids are morally less bankrupt (I would also just say that they are even just good people) than Alicent and the assumption is that this had to have come from a very good place in Rhaenyra-Daemon's personalities

Rhaenyra's story is still about female self-assertion in the face of misogyny while also supporting the historical context for how Daenerys's bringing the dragons back is a bigger deal and why -> while Dany provides context to Rhaneyra (the latter was written later) and Rhaenyra's self-assertion -> this tie and similarity is very thematically apt and aesthetically pleasing, matching how with Rhaenyra's end the dragons die and Dany's rise the dragons rise = female importance to society

Dany doesn't exist during this Dance of the Dragons; where there is misogyny, there is also the desire to stan the central woman/en who strive to overcome or use patriarchal traditions to win something/real power for themselves -- thought Alicent is a woman using men discreetly for her own power (as well as that for her house) since she has a lot of internalized misogyny toward a child since the very beginning AND that child-to-woman being an actual woman ruling in her own right is better for society (in creating that precedent) than one woman trying to gain power for herself, Rhaenyra wins out as a favorite

C)

These posts go into GRRM's writing of Rhaenyra as well as other notes about her leadership: POST #1, POST #2, POST #3, POST #4, POST #5, POST #6, POST #7, POST #8--esp Section B, C, & D

(all address Rhaenyra's rulership and has more quotes supporting what I will say below)

I even compare her to Daenerys Stormborn in one of the linked posts, but I also have frequently said that Daenerys is/would be a better candidate than Rhaenyra because of Daenerys' regard for those she is leading. This is not lost on me.

The difference between these women is that one grew up with many privileges as a princess AND fought for her right to lead and rule against no-woman-should-rule-over-male-lords because of her heritage while the other basically lived as a commoner, dependent on plotters, and then bridal slave despite her heritage...or rather in part because of that heritage (her brother wanting power for himself and choosing to go along with selling her)! Rhaenyra believed in herself, Dany believed in herself, yet one wishes to continue Targ supremacy, and the other wishes to start anew and build a better, safer world for those who can & do fall victim to power struggles between nobles/royals. Dany is partially so special and necessary bc her ancestors (aside from Aegon V, the second Daenerys, Alysanne, and Rhaenys I) do not work and claim power with more vulnerable persons in their minds.

Conclusion

If anon, you are neutral, this type of neutrality is the better and more sensical kind, but I hope that in it people don't become less encouraged to be aggressive towards how absent of morality (as a consideration in its attack against women) misogyny is.

And like I say several times, you do not need to stan Rhaenyra in her own story or wrongly claim she is a good person and think she is herself one of the best Targ rulers/candidates in the overall Targ dynasty. Just be honest and fair. Make sure you read the actual text, consider its sociopolitical context, Westerosi-Targ history, and look at things from Rhaenyra's perspective built from that context-text.

*EDIT* (8/21/23):

THIS is a great post by @mononijikayu about medieval queens, female rulers, the history of how women in leadership positions were made and seen as threats to the very structure of social "order", and contextualizing Rhaenyra thru Empress Matilda. I didn't even know about Matilda's husband being comparable to Rhaneyra's Daemon! PLZ READ!!!!

Excerpt:

just as much, along with these fictitious portrayals, more lies are depicted. these women are considered vixens that cause havoc to men by shifting them into desires and danger. through the written word, we see how women are cast in roles of villains in men’s lives. it is because by their conclusive thoughts, women are the only creatures that are able to turn ‘good honorable men’ into despicable creatures who do shameful, deplorable acts for the sake of women’s pleasures.  [...] it is within this narrative that ancient chroniclers declare that women were in fact the doom of men. if they were not able to control the dangers posed by the wiles of women, then the foundations of the mighty society they had built would be up in flames.  [...] as i mentioned, these factors of community are written down and preserved. and with that, the example of the ancients were the foundations by which medieval society built itself. the same concepts continued to cause the same issue within society and that was the exclusion of women from participating in the bigger picture of community and state, much so with governing states in their own right—without judgment or disapproval. 

#rhaenyra targaryen #asoiaf asks to me #rhaenyra's characterization #asoiaf #fire and blood #fire and blood characters #hotd nuetrals #asoiaf fandom neutrality #rhaenyra and feminism #rhaenyra vs alicent #alicent rhaenyra and misogyny

[mrstsung]

Vent below if you like liu kang this post isn't for you. This is basically an anti liu kang and really angry post.

Giving y'all a warning.

Again DNI if you like liu kang or "stan" him. Or are a fire god liu kang fan. Because this post isn't for you.

Like I'm giving a warning for a reason because im not gonna be nice rn. I choose violence today ok?

Trying to cite warnings and tag this so people don't get up in arms. (Which they may anyways but hey thats on them if they click further)

Cw:vent,angry admin.

Last warning. If you like liu kang. Plz for the love of god dni and keep scrolling. But if you dont like him. And especially hate fire god liu kang. Plz Continue.

Vent below cut

If you like or stan liu kang but more so mk12/mk1 god *redacted titans derogatory* liu kang.

Kick rocks. He's an asshole. Have a nice die liu kang. 💀🗑⚰

Nah. You can miss me with that. Liu kang deserves nothing but death and suffering. In fact everyone BUT shang tsung deserves it.

Nah if yall would have gave shang something actually decent,livable,love and care,maybe a fucking decent friend that wasn't a previous roster member?,etc. None of this would be a problem. But nope. Liu kang had to be a petty whore bitch with bias agenda. Could have made him evil and made him like dark raiden. But nope you had to make him insufferable and unlikable.

Like a guy who hides behind the im nice,till you disagree or reject his ideals and suddenly you're gaslighted and given shit. Omg much like religious indoctrination. How interesting. But they dont wanna talk about that.

People don't wanna talk about how shitty the writing is. But people don't care so as long as the characters are pretty and fuckable enough. But the more things change the more they stay the same i guess.

Everytime i see mk12/mk1 liu kang i wanna spit on him and punch him and set him on fire and just want him dead and gone for good. Because i fucking hate him. I have never hated even kronika this bad,more so i felt she was a waste of potential, and redundant af. Nah He deserves die.

Like go to Super hell liu kang. Piss off with your shitty fanfic Timeline. Loser bitch ass hiding behind a fake ass smile and preaching peace. Peace my ass. Shit happened anyways. Makes fucking shinnok look like a fucking saint sweetheart in comparison.

Like im not even joking. I don't even care about his reasons. I dont even care what canon says. Or these fucking mk1 liu kang fans say anymore. Im tired.

Which we all know it's because he has weird hang ups over kitana when he could have just fucking left,said fuck it and married her anyways. She would have said yes. But he had to be weird about it,roundabout af,and make everyone suffer because he couldn't get edanian pussy.

Or it's because maybe he thinks he can do better than raiden. The arrogant prick. Nah that god dilf raised you and you give him this shit?! After all he went through?! Thi s is the thanks you give him?! Liu kang im not just disappointed in you im disappointed in the fact raiden didn't kill you off when he had the chance when he went dark. Would've Saved us a shitty game and a half.

Like liu kang did all the things and still had bad things if not worse things. Happen. Preaching peace and prosperity my ass. Fake ass ugly ass hoebag bitch. I hope he chokes on his spit in his sleep. I hope sand get in his ass and never comes out. I hope he dies from this bullshit lame tarkat disease and gets ultra mega plague. I just fucking hate it man.

The villains are lame. The story is lame. Liu kangs fanfic is lame. And nrs is lame.

I'd rather deal with the shitty 2021 movie than this shit. I'd rather deal with shitty writing in mk11 than this. Fr. At least it's entertaining shit.

And shang tsung isn't a fucking dumpster fire in the story. Shao kahn while a meathead is still terrifying. Quan chi isn't there but in 10 he was fucking beeeeeast. Shinnok. Poor shinnok. You deserve better. Cetrion was a waste. Kronika too. Geras was actually scary,but now he's a tool.

Legitimately the gameplay is just juggle better,gimmicky kameos bullshit,and same ol crap different wrapper.

Mk12/mk1? More like mk11.5 . Nothing changes thats worth the money.

I can find better shit on emulators.

Graphics aside what does the new game really truly have to offer? Nothing.

Wishful thinking. Like a bag of lays chips but unlike potato chips which is useful. This game sadly. Is not.

(Liu kang is only valid if he's from the 95 movie thats it. Fuck every other version. But even then it's thin ice at this point. Nrs has ruined liu kang for me.)

So yeah kick rocks liu kang. I hate liu kang and anyone who stans his ass rn in the story and the new game can fuck right off.

#vent #mortal kombat #this is a Liu kang hate post so dni if you like him #but more so if you like mk12/mk1 liu kang #cw vent #cw: vent #admin in not nice today #admin is not nice to liu kang rn #all this potential....wasted

[carewyncromwell]

“A new start --  That's the thing I need to give me new heart... Half a chance in life to find a new part -- Just a simple role that I can play...”

~“A New Life” from Jekyll & Hyde

x~x~x~x

edited with help from Lunapic // original background image here

x~x~x~x

Eli Fawcett had never been the sort to think things through. He was a very “live-in-the-moment” sort of person, even in those days before he’d settled on the first name “Eli” for himself and was solely called “Fawcett” by most of the people around him. It was something his best school friend, the much more composed and logical Ravenclaw Cayde Burke @sirfluffig​, used to chide him for -- that Eli fit the well-worn stereotype of the meathead Gryffindor who prefers to barrel right on through rather than use their brains. But Eli would only ever shrug this off with self-deprecating humor.

“Hey, we all know you’re the brains in this outfit, Cay,” he’d laugh. “The last thing I’d want to do is step on your toes. Unless you want to get up off your rump and come dance with me -- this is a dilly of a tune!”

Even so, just about nobody expected the second-eldest Fawcett child to just up and leave England without a word to anyone, post-Hogwarts. Nobody did -- even if they really probably should have.

Eli had been a “slacker” sort at school. His lack of interest in traditional academics combined with his undiagnosed dyslexia made it that even if he had actively tried to conform to his father and grandmother’s aspirations for him, he probably never would’ve gotten straight O’s the way his older brother Enoch and his younger sister Emilia did. And since Eli truly was too carefree to really ever buckle down and “get serious” about anything, whether his studies or his future, it was inevitable that he earned no NEWTS, after his seventh year. It was the final nail in the coffin for Eli’s father Grover’s dreams that his second-born would join him at the Ministry as Enoch already had, and it prompted Eli’s strict, overbearing grandmother Alice Fawcett to propose another way to secure a successful, stable future for Eli. 

“The Potters have a son who’s just joined the Wizengamot -- a Prefect and Head Boy in his day, graduated from the same house as our Eliza, just six years prior,” said Grandma Fawcett. “The Potters are a well-esteemed family -- wealthy, as well, with a lovely home -- and their son stands to inherit all of it, whenst his father passes. Rumor even says that young Henry recently suffered a most grievous rejection by an unknown sweetheart. Just think of it! Who but our Eliza would be better to bring the man some much-needed sunshine?”

So a meeting was arranged the very next weekend between the Potters and the Fawcetts. Eli did indeed notice how deeply unhappy Henry Potter was -- he seemed both very absent-minded and actively disinterested in the proceedings. Eli was never one to like seeing someone frown, and so, brushing his freshly cut hair out of his eyes, he decided right then and there to play a jaunty tune on the piano to cheer the slightly older man up. 

“Meet me in St. Louis, Louis! Meet me at the fair! Don't tell me the lights are shining Any place but there... We will dance the hoochie-koochie -- I will be your tootsie wootsie,  If you will meet me in St. Louis, Louis... Meet me at the fair!”

It most certainly was not a tune to his grandmother’s liking, and admittedly Eli hated how high his voice sounded when he sang it, but the Potters quite enjoyed it, all the same. Henry was oddly quiet during the whole performance -- it was only when it was over that he invited Eli out onto the front porch of the Potter home. Eli, rather blindsided, tried to lightheartedly turn down the request, only to be not-so-gently pushed to follow the other man by both his father and grandmother. And so rather uncomfortably Eli followed Henry Potter outside, suddenly very painfully aware of why exactly they’d paid this “house call” in the first place.

When they arrived on the Potters’ front porch, Henry lit a cigarette. He was a bit startled when Eli took one out of the box Henry had opened himself and asked to borrow a light. Faintly bemused, Henry conjured another tiny flame with his wand, and Eli took a long drag. The sight of the short-haired “lady” smoking so casually actually seemed to take some of the stiffness out of Henry’s shoulders.

“Good to know I’m not the only one who’s ill at ease,” he said lowly. 

Eli was having trouble keeping his stomach from squirming. He tried very hard to keep an off-hand smile on. 

“Is that what this communicates?” he asked idly. “And here I’ve only ever been able to indulge in these during social events...s’pose I’m a bit out-of-step.”

Henry, however, looked rather serious. 

“I assume you were well-aware of why our parents arranged this meeting between us?” the young man said lowly. 

Eli’s smile faltered, but he tried to keep it on anyway, even as his gaze drifted away. 

“...To say I was aware, prior to your invitation, would be a bit of a stretch. ‘Am’ is more correct.”

He put on the brightest grin he could.

“...Begging your indulgence -- I’m something of a ‘dim bulb,’ by reputation, and I forget sometimes that it’s not completely unwarranted, when it comes to such things...”

Henry seemed startled by this. Then his expression actually softened. 

“...So you mean to say you played that song just to cheer me up?”

Eli blushed a bit as he brought a hand up behind his neck, rubbing it awkwardly. “Well, sure -- couldn’t very well leave you drowning in the blues if I could help it, could I?”

For the first time, Henry’s mouth spread into a smile. 

“You’re a kind sort, Miss Fawcett.”

“Fawcett,” Eli corrected before he could stop himself. His smile twitched ever-so-slightly as he forced it into a more self-deprecating expression. “...Formality isn’t my scene. Just ‘Fawcett’ is jake.”

Henry looked confused, but he took it in stride all the same. “...All right.”

He moved to a pair of chairs set up on the far end of the porch, away from the windows, and sat down, before he silently beckoned for her to sit in the one beside him. Still faintly uneasy, Eli slowly lowered himself down into the chair. 

“Don’t worry,” said Henry. “It should be harder for them to eavesdrop on us from here, as long as we keep our voices down.”

Eli cocked his eyebrows. 

“M -- Fawcett,” Henry said slowly, “I am deeply sorry...but my heart...belongs to another. I have no intention to marry you.”

Eli’s shoulders felt like they were suddenly pounds lighter. His head fell back as his lips spread into a huge, relieved grin. 

“Oh, thank Merlin,” he breathed.

Henry immediately relaxed as well. His lips spread into a relieved, self-conscious smile.

“She and I may be separated for reasons beyond our control,” he explained sadly, “but she is my one true love and soulmate. I would dishonor both myself and her if I wed anyone else.”

Eli beamed. “Well, then, you should marry her! Weddings can be lovely and fun affairs, I’ve heard, when the feelings are sincere. Reckon it’d make those horrid wedding clothes almost bearable,” he added jokingly. 

Henry gave a soft laugh, before he smiled a bit more fully. 

“I am grateful for your understanding,” he said, his modest voice very warm and sincere. “Truly, you are a very good woman, Elizabeth Fawcett.”

“Oh, Merlin’s taint, please,” Eli said in an overdramatically nauseous tone of voice. “Fawcett only! I hear my full name and all I hear is dear old Grandma, scolding the state of my penmanship!”

Henry laughed fully. It made Eli smile that bit brighter, to see it, after how unhappy he’d clearly been. 

Henry and Eli talked for about a half-hour more out there on the porch, smoking the rest of their cigarettes. Once they had finished, the two headed back inside together. 

“Thank you, Fawcett,” Henry said, his eyes sparkling warmly. “Your company and counsel truly have been a joy.”

He extended a hand to Eli. Sensing the man had intended to kiss his hand, Eli instead took it and shook it. Although faintly taken aback, Henry beamed that bit more broadly.

“I shall follow your advice,” he said softly, his smile very bright. “I shall marry my Ida, one day. Whatever the squalls -- no matter how much time I must wait.”

“Cheers,” Eli said with a grin. 

Henry added his other hand on top of Eli’s so he could shake the other man’s hand in both of his. 

“And I hope you shall know just as true of a happiness yourself, one day,” he said warmly. “The joy of being loved, for everything you are.” 

Eli’s smile flickered slightly, betraying surprise and something oddly pensive. Then, like a flower, his expression had bloomed into a warmer expression than ever -- one that made his slightly sleepy-looking eyes sparkle as he clasped Henry Potter’s hands in both of his and shook them in return.  

“‘Everything?’” he joked. “Even the rancid stench emanating off every pair of shoes I own? That might be a bit beyond my reach. But hey -- shoot for the moon, and you fall among the stars, right?”

Henry beamed and nodded.

The Potters and Fawcetts were incredibly disappointed when they learned that Henry had not proposed courtship to Eli, while they’d been together on the porch. They’d heard Henry laughing and thought for sure that it meant they were “getting along nicely,” but Henry pretty quickly corrected the record, and even made his intentions clearer to his parents about where his romantic loyalty lay. The Potters soon enough came to accept his decision -- but Grandma Fawcett was not happy. She was convinced that Eli had “sabotaged himself” in his meeting with Henry, so as to disobey their wishes and avoid a proposal, and when they returned home to Ottery St. Catchpole that evening, she tore into Eli with that very accusation.

“By all accounts, Henry Potter had given up all pretenses of ever proposing to that woman!” spat Alice. “What did you say to him?”

Eli raised his eyebrows in mock innocence. “What did I say to him? Why, I told him to marry her, of course.”

Grover’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. “You what?”

“If he loves her, I say go for it,” said Eli lightly. “So she’s set to marry Arcturus Black -- big deal. Nothing final yet -- she could still ditch that tosser, if she wanted. Maybe she and Henry can run off and elope -- that could be a fun way to spend a Saturday...” 

Alice’s face had flushed a very dark scarlet and she mouthed wordlessly for a moment, clearly having trouble articulating her anger properly. Grover looked incredibly dismayed.

“Eliza, your grandmother and I specifically selected Henry Potter with the expectation that you would be his intended!” he said, trying to keep his voice level despite the frustration and anxiety in it. 

Eli gave an overdramatic shrug. 

“Whoops,” he said with a dry smile. “Oh well -- guess I’ll just have to throw rice at the wedding instead.”

“Eliza, this is no laughing matter!” said Grover, his voice growing a bit louder and shakier. “That man was going to be your future -- he was going to provide a home for you -- a stable income and a family -- ”

“Mm, tempting,” said Eli, his voice laced with considerable dry humor, “but the man’s clearly already taken, and I’m not particularly interested in playing the role of anyone’s mistress.” He laughed brightly. “Say, I know, why not try to hook me up with Septimus Weasley next? Then maybe he’ll finally nuts up enough to finally propose to Cedrella Black -- ”

It was the absolute, faintly mocking flippancy Eli spoke with and his complete inability to be serious that finally pushed Alice over the edge.

Smack.

She’d slapped Eli across the face. It was a very weak little smack, one that was the equivalent of getting splashed in the face, but it still echoed loudly. 

“Mother!” Grover gasped.

Alice herself seemed similarly mortified. Her eyes had gone very wide and upset and she’d started to shake, partially out of shame, partly out of frustration, but mostly out of anxiety. 

“You...ungrateful child...” she rasped. She sounded close to tears. “You thoughtless, arrogant thing! Are you truly so selfish? Have you given absolutely no thought whatsoever to how much your idleness has hampered your prospects? Are you truly so ignorant, to not see how many opportunities you’ve squandered, by not applying yourself the way Enoch and Emilia did? Do you not have any concept of how much you drain and drain from this family, with no chance of replenishment or return? Your one asset -- your greatest, most shining aspect has been always your amiability! You have never been smart, or clever, or sensible, or beautiful, but your cheer and talent have always earned you favor. It’s always earned you admirers -- you’ve always charmed the men around you, even when you’ve been at your most improper. That amiability is now the one thing that could win you the hand of a respectable husband -- to save you from a life of destitution! And yet all you can do, even now, is LAUGH about it!”

“They say all comedy is borne from misery,” Eli said very lightly. 

If someone who knew Eli well, such as Enoch or Cayde, had been there, they surely would’ve taken note of the noticeable, almost bitter edge to Eli’s voice, when he said this. But Grover and Alice took no heed. 

“Enough, Eliza,” Grover shut him down. 

His face, in contrast to his mother’s, had gone very pale and he clutched his second-born child’s shoulder in a very tight, shaking grip. 

“...Stop antagonizing your grandmother,” he said very lowly. His voice was far less harsh than his mother’s, to the point that it was almost beseeching, but deathly serious. “Eliza...your future is too important, for you to not take seriously. The next time I select a candidate for you, you will not hamper the match. And you will consider each candidate seriously as a future husband and father of your children. Do you understand me?”

Eli’s mouth was curled up, but the smile held no joy at all. His eyes had gone very narrow and dark, and he’d gone very quiet. The lack of response unsettled both Grover and Alice.

“Eliza,” Grover prompted Eli again, his voice sounding a bit more beseeching than he meant. “Do you understand me?”

Eli’s eyes drifted absently up onto the ceiling. He clearly had decided to ignore the question outright. The rude silence made Alice lash out a bit, harshly tapping his knuckles lightly with her cane.

“Young lady, you will speak when spoken to!” she barked strictly, but her voice betrayed her anxiety. 

Eli’s eyes drifted down to his grandmother, darkening still further. Then, very slowly, his lips curled up in an even wider, cold smile. 

“Bark, bark,” he said airily. “Bow, wow.”

He turned his back on his father and grandmother, his smile spreading into a white-teethed grin as he removed the ornamental hair comb from his short hair with as much grace as a gardener pulling up weeds. 

“Good boy, Fawcett,” he said in a very cool imitation of his grandmother’s voice. “Good speak.”

Grover opened his mouth to speak again, but Eli had already cut him off in a low whisper.

“I heard you the first two times, Dad. I may not have much in regards to brains...but my ears work fine.”

And with this, he strode purposefully up the stairs, up to his room, and slammed the door shut with an odd amount of force. 

That very night Eli packed up everything he could into a small suitcase and left, never to return. He hopped a spot on the next ocean liner to America, sailing off to the New World with nothing but his paltry savings to sustain him until he could find work. 

And yet when he stood at the railing, looking out toward the endless sparkling blue sea, Eli found himself smiling more easily than he had in a very long time...perhaps because, in that moment, the smile wasn’t for anybody else. It was just for himself. 

“And I hope you shall know just as true of a happiness yourself, one day. The joy of being loved, for everything you are.”

Henry Potter was chasing his own happiness, Eli thought -- why the hell shouldn’t he? Sure, it was probably going to be hard sometimes, and he wasn’t all that smart, and people were probably going to figure out he wasn’t what they thought at first glance...and obviously the rainclouds would come back eventually, and he would be reminded how very insignificant he truly was and how much that happiness or unhappiness he might feel wouldn’t matter, to much of anyone...

But that could wait. That could all wait, for now. For right now, Eli felt like all of the chains that had been weighing him down for so many years had been broken open. He felt light, and nimble, and free...felt better about himself than he had since he and Cayde had fallen out, last year.

In that moment...Eli was happy. 

#fantastic beasts and where to find them #eli fawcett #about eli #my art #cayde burke #grover fawcett #alice fawcett #henry potter

[whatyourusherthinks]

The Beekeeper Review

Oh boy, I was ready for Beekeeper, but for all the wrong reasons! The poster looks like Jason Statham is gonna turn into bees in this movie. The trailer was bad. The premise is insane. We used Not The Bees meme in the preshow. I was so prepared for a goofy good time, especially after suffering through Mean Girls and Book of Clarence fumbled the ending.

I will say up front, I got a decent amount of respect for Jason Statham. Not only did he help produce this movie, but he seems like a nice guy, family man in a committed relationship, but not like a dick about it. He stands by for the Stuntman Union, that's pretty awesome. And of all the meathead action heroes (your Stallones, Schwarzeneggers, and Rocks) he works the best is pretty much any action movie they put him in. Like you don't watch these movies to see any of these guys become different characters, you just watch them transposed into different situations. And Statham kinda just fits in any movie you put him in. That's respectable.

What's This Movie About?

Jason Statham is Adam Clay, a beekeeper. When his landlady falls for a phishing scam and kills herself, he reveals that he is also a Beekeeper with a capital B, which is basically a superpowered secret police officer. And he's about to kill anyone even remotely responsible for his landlady's suicide.

What I Like.

This movie is basically asexual boomer John Wick. While not quite and well staged and shot as those movies, it's still pretty satisfying and crunchy. There are some kills in this movie that made me go "Huhuh, bruuuutal!" The pacing of this movie is excellent as well, keeping me engaged but not overwhelmed. The villains in the movie are perfect. I didn't even need the landlady to kill herself, I was ready for the Beekeeper to murder these fuckers as soon as they were on screen. Pretty much all of them that aren't crazy mercenaries are tech sector bros and nepobabies, and you don't know true satisfaction until you see a guy try to bribe someone with NFTs and then immediately get thrown off a bridge. And the escalation of the violence is sublime. Clay starts out almost like a slasher, hiding in the shadows and picking off guys one at a time. Then, when the road trip section of the movie begins, he starts taking out squads of guys, stealing their guns to use. And the ending is almost a one-man storming of the White House. I actually like Clay's personality in the movie. Yeah, he's basically just Jason Statham, but I like that he goes out of his way to avoid killing as many people as he can. And he has a frank kindness I dug. I have a feeling that this'll be an unpopular opinion, but I actually like the cutaways to the FBI agents. Going to them seeing the aftermath of the Beekeeper's carnage was pretty interesting and I like both the characters. Admittedly the politics of the movie is slightly muddled, but I ain't gonna hate anything that say "punish the greedy".

What I Don't Like.

Um... The ending chickens out of it's set up a little bit, but it also ends so quickly that you don't really have time to think about it.

Final Summation.

This movie is actually good. Not so bad it's good, not ironically good, not good if you shut your brain off. Actually, legitimately good. What the actual fuck.

Why don't we have more movies like this? I don't mean sequels, I mean movies like The Beekeeper. I mean yeah, "don't be greedy" is a common moral, but I mean why don't we have more movies where unstoppable forces just plow over the greedy. I need so many movies where greedy douchebags get murdered indiscriminately, that I want to be sick of them. (But I never will be.) I want these movies to be so ingrained in pop culture, that when Joe Buggknutz comes up with his next get rich quick scheme, he doesn't go through with it because he's afraid Jason's gonna strangle him to death in his sleep.

So... Go see this movie. It's good, even though Jason Statham doesn't turn into bees.

#The Beekeeper #Recommended Movies

[gotshadowbanned-feralfungii]

Since Epic was giving out the New Vegas Ultimate Edition for free I've been playing it again and am therefore back on my bullshit. So, I'm gonna ramble about my Courier's. I have four main Courier’s for New Vegas with four very different motivators.

Murdoch: Helping people above all else, ends up getting in good with the NCR bc he's a stand-up kinda guy, but won't prioritize their agenda over the well-being of the helpless (ex. in the quest That Lucky Old Sun he diverts the energy to the poorest areas rather than the NCR base.) Goes for an NCR ending because he sees them as the Mojave's best protection against the Legion and other threats. Crack shot, when he isn’t plastered, though he often is incredibly wasted bc he is soft-hearted and doesn't know how else to cope with the kind of things he's seen.

Liberty: Individual independence above all else, she doesn't believe in helping people so much as she believes in giving them the power to help themselves. If they squander the freedom she grants them, that's their problem, at least they were free to do so on their own terms. Goes for the wild card ending because she believes a free Vegas is ideal, even if it ends up in chaos. Very much "no gods, no kings, no masters" sorta gal. Anarchy at its finest. Beats the absolute hell out of enemies with whatever blunt instrument she can get her hands on. Blades work too, but she doesn't find those as satisfying.

Carmen: Self-indulgence above all else. These violent delights have violent ends but those violent ends are also delightful to her. Selfish to her very core, no regard for others and in fact sees them as pawns for her to play with or as supporting characters in her narrative. Ends up helping out the Legion at first because the suffering they sow is funny to her, but when she reaches the point where they say "oh we would make you a Legionnaire, but you're a woman and therefore worthless, so we can't. We still want you to do our dirty work tho..." Well. At that point, all bets are off, and they've signed their death warrant. She pivots hard into a Mr. House ending bc taking it all upon herself seemed like a hassle and the NCR seemed like a bore. So, she'd rather hand control of Vegas over to House and benefit from his control and the fact that he owes her, so she can keep indulging in her violent, chaotic fun.

Brutus: Order above all else. The tragedy of Brutus is that he has a lot of qualities that could, in theory, make him a good man. He cares sincerely about his companions, he wants the best for the Mojave, he has a solid sense of right and wrong... Unfortunately, he thinks the best thing for the Mojave is bringing order to the chaos and, as far as he can see, the NCR just isn't equipped to bring about that order, and Mr. House is too focused on the Strip when order is needed on a much larger scale. Therefore, he thinks the Legion is the only viable option. He finds their methods distasteful, but puts his morals aside as he has a "you can't make an omelet without cracking a few eggs" mentality. He thinks they're a necessary evil to maintain order in the chaotic wasteland. He seems like a big bulky meathead but is actually very intelligent and gifted in science, repairs, medicine, and energy weapons.

So yeah those are my main Couriers. Maybe one day I'll draw them or smth lmao. Or at least post the Murdoch/Arcade fic I wrote.

#new vegas nonsense #courier six

[podcastgay]

* thinks about ulfgar growing up in the dwarphenage * *thinks about thiala and alanis being his first friends * *thinks about them literally fighting through hell together * * thinks about the trust between them * *thinks about him getting crick rot * *thinks about thiala promising to cure it and then using it to control him* *thinks about alanis abandoning him* *thinks about him being stuck in a gem* *thinks about ulfgar* *thinks about ulfgar* *thinks abou

#naddpod #naddpod spoilers #ulfgar trueaxe #i know he’s a meathead but like. he suffered so much #aaaaa #not another dnd podcast #thiala #alanis

[hiswhiteknight]

Unbelievably Outlandish– Part 10

Summary:  Before starting down a new crossroads, the Reader goes onto an adventure of literary traveling. Suddenly tossed into an unbelievable story that has swept the world, The Outlander Series itself. How will a twenty first century woman survive?

Note: I own no characters, except reader, clearly this is based off the lovely book series Outlander by Diana Gabaldon and tv show. This follows more the tv show, but it’s far from accurate. I’m going to try to get better with using less proper English, but who knows maybe I’ll get into Scottish slang.

Pairing: Jamie Fraser x Female Reader 

Words: 1400

Warning: Angst, playfulness, cursing, slow start, obvious fighting and violence, mention of suicide

*I’ll be honest, this chapter is more of a fuller, substance chapter. If you wanted to be added to the tag list, please send me a message or chat. Thank you for everyone’s patience!

The hunt still left you plenty in your thoughts. It should be on helping in whatever way you can, but you kept thinking on your role here and how you clearly will never belong, no matter how to try to be kind and open to the culture, no matter how much you push away your own values and morals for these people. It will never matter. Rupert yelled your name, catching your attention. A man got hurt and you help mend what you can before instructing Rupert to bring him back to the village. Another scream, a different type of scream caused you to be pulled from you own thoughts of now and into the times of wartime. You charge to the scream, you found a man losing blood quickly, and a shot pulled you from your thoughts. The boar that did this must have been shot, “Mistress Y/L/N, am I going to die?”

 All the pressure and anger you felt subsided, “Hold of Geordie, let me look at you,” several clansmen surrounded you. Dougal showed up to hold Geordie as you tried to patch up his leg. Dougal and him were exchanging words when you saw the wounds to his abdomen. Dougal made eye contact with you and you knew he knew what you were saying. You pulled off the tourniquet, and grabbed his hand, “Geordie, the pain is going to be go soon, but while we wait, I have a bet with Angus.” Geordie looked at you the way many men have looked at you before in the Marine. You had to bring him peace in the time of his panic, “I bet Angus that the colonies had more beautiful sites than Scotland. Tell me about your home, what’s it like?”

 Georgie perked up as he told you about his home and you gripped his hand with all your might and continue to stroke his hair to help sooth him. And soon he was gone, you quickly got up and made your way to your horse. Before you knew what you were doing, you made your way to the castle. You needed some busy work, like stitching up the leg of the man who was also attacked by the boar. Afterwards, you walked outside to see the men playing field hockey, which you played for a few years in high school. This was far more barbaric, and you could see Dougal taking his rage out on Jamie. He could cope in anger, but if you did this, you would be gutted.

 You wondered who would win in a fight and you had no doubt Jamie would win. When you saw Dougal on the ground, a young girl from one of your lessons tugged on your arm, “Well hello Molly dear, you enjoying the gathering?” There is no reason to take your rage on children, they didn’t do anything wrong. Honestly, teaching them defense things and survival tactics was the most time you felt at peace, well except when you were with – never mind that thought.

 “Aye mistress, very much,” you smile down at her, “I heard about your ill-wish and I know who made it. They did not know it was intended for you when they gave it to the girl.”

Guilt hit your chest again, someone was scared you were going to hurt them for being an accomplice. You were letting the harshness of one person hurt your relationship with the majority, “You know who put it under my bed?”

 “Aye mistress,” she whispered, “You wouldn’t be telling my mother, would you? She wouldn’t be wanting me to get into others business.”

 You bent down to her level, “Tell you what,” you pull out your coin bag with most of the money you made for yourself while staying here – your escape money, “I’ll tell your mother you helped me collect supplies for the gathering, which is why I paid you all this. And you tell me who put it under my bed?”

 “Mistress, I don’t need your money. Girls aren’t allowed to learn the things you are teaching. You don’t deserve any ill-wishes. You’re lovely,” you smile up at her.

 You pass her the bag, “You’ve earned it dear, I keep my word. Give me the name and the money is yours.”

 “Laoghaire,” she whispered. You shot up, looking around completely shocked.

 “Alrighty lass,” you pat her on the shoulder, “If you don’t mind, I have business to take care of.”

 “Be careful, please,” she urged after you.

 You had a hyper focus again, you intended to kick her ass, like you reported. And you found her socializing where most of the clan put up tent for the gathering. You passed Murtagh and Jamie, taking off your sling bag off and your dagger from your waistband and handed it to one of them, “Murtagh, could you mind this for me?”

 “I’m not your errand boy, lass, and where you going that you won’t need this,” he questioned.

 “You’re a pretty face, Murtagh, you ask too many questions,” you sass to him, looking at your target. Jamie and him stopped leaning on a post, both putting their drinks down. They could clearly tell you mean business. “Hey, Laoghaire, you two faced, toxic bitch, I got your gift earlier and I would like show you my appreciation.”

 She had the audacity to give you a glare, before she realized she was in real danger. She started to step backwards, and the crowd started to grow around you as you moved closer to the girl, “Leave me alone, wench.”

 “Oh, you do have words now that you can use. I thought you might be too stupid to speak up and say something since you chose to instead use this voodoo bullshit to get at me. You want to bring me pain lady, let’s go at it,” you finally were within three feet of her. Before you could make a grab at her, she ran in another direction.

 You were about to put your running skills to work, when Murtagh gripped your arm, “Come on lass, you made your point let’s get you back to the surgery.”

 “You know what, I’m a little busy right now. But I’ll meet you in the kitchen in a few, we can have some tea to cleanse our spirit, la de da and all,” you keep her in your eye sights. You were about to start your chase when you were tossed over a shoulder. Murtagh was carrying you back as you banged on his back. You were mad in this moment because you gave your dagger away to this meathead or he would have suffered from a few, no lethal jabs. He dropped you in the surgery room, “Damn it, Murtagh what the hell is wrong with you?”

 “With me, you were about to put a big target on your back. You’re a guest here lass, they don’t take too kindly to guests attacking one of their kin,” he leaned against the counter.

 You started to cry, and you usually do not cry, “Does it mean nothing I didn’t start it? Her action deserves a consequence. I watch all men here fight over nothing and here I am fighting against an injustice and my life is at danger. Do I not matter to anyone where? Should I just go to the tallest tower and jump?”

 “Don’t be so dramatic, an ill wish is nothing,” he urged to you. He didn’t seem too phased by the fact you were crying, though he did soften his voice to show sympathy, “I know you don’t believe any of nonsense. You are a smart woman.” You started to toss things about the surgery, organizing all the stuff you brought out for the hunt. Murtagh walked over to you and stopped you by gripping the top of both your arms, “Y/N, you matter more than you know. Stop this behavior, you’ll get accustomed.”

 “Murtagh, why do I always have to be the one to change? What do I have to do to feel like I belong here, how long will it take for people to believe I’m not an outsider?”

 He took a deep breath again, “I know it doesn’t seem it now and I don’t know how, but you do belong here. It’ll come in time. Until then, stop picking fights.”

 “Yes father,” you rolled your eyes, “Where is Jamie, I assume he has my bags and things?”

 “Aye, right now he is taken care of Laoghaire, so you needed be worrying about her anymore,” he said, making his way to the stairs.

 “Unless he has killed her and hid the body, I’ll keep to worry about her and her no good deeds, thank you,” you shouted at him. “And make sure Jamie brings back my things sooner rather than later.”

 And before Jamie could drop off your things, Dougal Mackenzie came down to share you would be journeying out to collect rent from the clan who wasn’t able to make it.

PART 11

 Taglist:  @doctorwhatwhenandwhere @damnedandbroken @blushingpogue @blancastans @slytherinambitious @kinky-asher @lovesanimals @bilesxbilinskixlahey

#Outlander #outlander fanfiction #outlander imagine #Jamie Fraser #jamie fraser imagines #jamie fraser x reader #jamie fraser imagine #jamie frazier x reader

[sokkabeifong]

Toph got annoyed at Sokka during class so she threw a book at him and now they're both in detention.

If words could kill, Sokka would be dead.

"Stop," she hissed for the millionth time, but the boy seated behind her continued to poke her back with a particularly sharp pencil. "I said quit it, you little insect."

"How would you know what an insect looks like?" Sokka countered, though he withdrew the pencil. "You've no right to call me that."

"And you have no right to be poking me. It's not my fault we're stuck here." She gestures vaguely around the stuffy detention room, where she and Sokka had ended up at the end of the school day.

"Not your fault? You threw a textbook at me!"

"Oh, please, it was the 1982 version. The '95's much heavier, you want me to hit you with that one?"

"I'm good, thanks," he said, and she could hear the smirk in his voice. That only caused her annoyance to rise. "What on Earth possessed you to just randomly throw your bio book at me, anyway?"

"It wasn't random, Snoozles. You happened to be getting on my nerves."

"Oooh, I got on your nerves. What an interesting motive that one is." His smirk practically vibrated off of him. "How deadly."

She turned around to face him, however useless the action might be. "You'll find out how deadly I can be once I get my hands on my English textbook. Now there's a murder weapon."

"And I suppose you'll show up to the funeral to evade the police?"

"Gotta throw off suspicion." She grinned before she remembered she was supposed to be angry with him. They were quiet for a few minutes, but she could sense his agitation, hear him fidgeting in his seat. She was sure this was the last place he wanted to be, and to his credit she really had no idea why their biology teacher had given him detention as well as her. As for why she’d thrown the book, well, biology was boring. She had decided to spice it up a bit, and what better target was there than Sokka?

Unfortunately, she had a tendency to not think things through, and now instead of suffering through a boring class she was suffering through a boring detention. The monitor gave a sudden cough, but she didn’t flinch. He was a rusty old thing, a history teacher who spent his days lecturing his classes without glancing up from his planner. He probably wasn’t even watching them now.

The same thought seemed to have occurred to Sokka. The pencil poked her back again and his voice whispered in her ear. “What do you say we get out of here?”

She tried not to, but her grin had returned. "Well, since I've got nothing better to do," she said, giving an exaggerated yawn.

"Ha, ha." She heard his chair scraping against the floor, then felt his hand slip into hers. He dragged her through the door, banging through it and whooping, "School's out!" with delight.

"Shut up, you're going to get us into more trouble," she said, but it was half-hearted and she too was laughing. They raced down the stairs and through the halls until finally they reached the massive glass doors that indicated the entrance to the building. Sokka stopped, letting go of her hand and gasping for breath. She punched his back.

"Aw, are you out of breath, little boy?" she whimpered in her best baby-talk speech. "Suck it up like a woman, Meathead."

He popped back up. "Yes, ma'am." Slowly he opened the doors and bowed deeply. "After you."

"Damn straight," she said, holding her head high and sniffing. "I don't know why I mingle with such commonfolk."

"Who else would give you rides and not be afraid that you'll dispose of their dead body?"

"Good point. Speaking of which, you have some trash bags, right? Azula was being a bitch in Spanish today. and I might need 'em."

He gave a fake little salute. "At your service, General. Trash bags are indeed handy."

"So that's why I keep you around," she said lightly, and he laughed.

"I thought it was to keep yourself entertained in biology. And, like I said, I am at your service."

"That's what I like to hear."

here you go, this was fun to write! hope you enjoyed and if you have a prompt you'd like me to write, feel free to send it in! whatever ship (keep it legal though) and whatever fandoms I've reblogged on my blog work for me!

#atla #avatar the last airbender #sokka #toph #toph beifong

[amintyworld]

Mentors - Dream SMP Hunger Games AU

A/N: So this started as a one page drabble, then it turned into a six page fic. Oopsies! Anyway this is meant to be a sort of prequel to ‘The Victor’ drabble I submitted over at @dreamsmp-au-ideas, but can be read as stand-alone. Anyway, I wrote this in the span of an entire DAY because I have no self-control when it comes to writing and this AU has sparked some Middle School nostalgia in me. Anyway, hope you enjoy and please check out the blog where the AU idea came from, they’ve given me a LOT of inspiration for fics to write. -Minty

TW: Talk/mention of death, fighting, depression/loss, threats of death, slight insanity. (Tell me if I need to tag anything else!)

Summary: Tommy’s an angry orphan, Wilbur grows a soft spot for Tommy, Sam is the only braincell left in District 7, Tubbo has Dadschlatt and needs a lot of hugs, Phil earned the achievement ‘Oh no Feelings’. 

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

Tubbo intertwined his fingers as he walked with the guards toward the white porcelain-like door. The shock of his name getting pulled hadn’t exactly faded yet, and the dread of the logical conclusion he’d drawn up in his head did not exactly help matters. He knew he was dead - he’d never trained for combat, he wasn’t agile or fast, he knew next to nothing about surviving in the wilderness, or even whatever the Gamemaker threw at him for that matter. His fate was completely sealed the moment that boy with devil horns picked his name out of the bowl. 

He took a breath, his hand on the door handle. Time to say goodbye.

As soon as he shut the door, he could feel his father’s comforting hand on his shoulder. “Hey, kiddo.” His voice was gentle, warm, and kind. Tubbo’s emotions couldn’t help but become unplugged at the voice as tears ran down his cheeks and he clung to his father tightly, afraid to let go. Schlatt wrapped his arms around Tubbo gently, rubbing his back to give him some comfort. “Oh Tubbo, I know kiddo, shhh...”

“I’m so scared, Dad.” Tubbo’s voice wavered as his body shook with sobs, and Schlatt’s heart broke at his son’s voice. 

“I know buddy, I know.” Schatt moved so he could brush his hands through his son’s hair. “But… but you don’t have to be. I know you can do it, I know you can win.” A few tears slipped down Schlatt’s cheek. “You’re so much smarter than any of those meatheads in the Capitol, probably in any other District in Panem. You’re so much stronger than you know, kiddo. I know you can do it. Just survive, I know you can outthink any of them, I know you can win. Just survive, win, and I’ll be waiting right here when you come back, okay?”

“And… and we can finally make s’mores?”

Schlatt’s face broke out into a smile through tears. “Yes, yes we can make as many s’mores as you want! We… we’ll… I’ll show you the bee farms, and I promise I’ll be there every single night for dinner, no more late hours at the office. I swear.” Schlatt’s hands squeezed Tubbo’s shoulders. “But you gotta win and come home, okay?”

Tubbo’s eyes blurred with tears as he scanned his father’s face, words dying in his throat, not knowing what to say. “Dad, I-”

Schlatt pulled him down into another hug as the two wept, holding onto each other for dear life, not daring to let go. Then, a soldier appeared in the doorway. “He’s got a train to catch, Mr. Ram.”

Schlatt breathed deeply, pulling away from the hug to run his hand through his son’s hair one last time, taking in his face as he brushed a bit of hair out of his face. “I…” He bit his lip. “I love you, Tubbo. Don’t forget that, okay?”

“I love you too, Dad.” Tubbo gave a quick hug to his father, wrapping his arms around his neck.

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

When Wilbur was assigned as a mentor for District 7, he was more than a little nervous. The other Victors from Victor’s Row assured him he’d do just fine, but still, he was not exactly looking forward to it. He’d met the escort and advisor a few days ago, someone from the Capitol named Sam. For someone from one of the richest districts in Panem, Sam didn’t exactly dress in high fashion - no bright colors or extravagant hairstyles. Instead, he simply wore a clean formal vest and slacks. He gave Wilbur the firmest handshake he’d ever been given in his entire life, and despite the situation seemed almost cheerful. 

If he remembered correctly, he was supposed to settle in his personal car on the train and meet Sam in the dining car. Sam seemed to have every detail of their trip planned out perfectly, which Wilbur more than appreciated. He was already dealing with enough as it was having to mentor two kids and try to get them sponsors while basically reliving the worst time in his entire life. Ths screams, the blood… the memories were… they were not good.

They called him insane, unstable. The One Who Went Mad. When he used to panic and whimper and mutter to himself, they used to laugh at him. They thought what he’d been through, the things that he’s seen, and the nightmares that plagued him were nothing more than a funny joke. They loved his pain and suffering. Wilbur didn’t like when they laughed at him like some stupid monkey in a cage. That’s why he preferred to just stay home most of the time. But at this point mentorship was unavoidable, it was under Capitol orders.

It was a bit early before he was due to meet up with Sam in the dining car, and he craved a cup of black coffee. His mind whirred a bit from the familiar fancy train cars, and he needed something to clear his mind from remembering. When he opened the door, however, he didn’t expect to see one of the tributes already here this early. From his blond messy hair and his bright blue eyes, he assumed this was Tommy, the boy. Wilbur held up his hand to show he meant to harm before he moved past the teen sat near the window towards the tea cart, fiddling with the french press. Successfully pouring the pitch-black liquid in a very expensive looking teacup, he cradled it in his hands as he moved to sit across from the teenage boy, still focused on the train station outside the window. “Uh, interesting view?”

Tommy looked over at him for a moment, eyes narrowed in annoyance. “Something like that.”

Wilbur sipped the bitter coffee thoughtfully. He took a breath before speaking. “You know, you’re allowed to say goodbye to your friends and family in the Governor’s office, if one of the Peacekeepers made a mistake I’m sure there’s still time for you to…”

“No.” The teenager’s voice seemed firm, staring out of the window. “They didn’t make a mistake.” 

“Uh, well…” Wilbur felt the awkward tension in the room rise. “You are a… bit early, we don’t leave for another half-hour…”

“Well, I didn’t exactly have anywhere else to go. No one to say goodbye to, so I guess they just skipped that part for convenience.” He looked almost angry as he turned back to Wilbur. “Do you mind maybe not staring at me?”

“I’m trying to talk to you.”

“Well, I don’t want to talk to you.” Tommy snapped. “You shouldn’t just start up a conversation just because you feel bored. I’m not paid to be your fucking entertainment.”

Add this to the number of reasons Wilbur didn’t want to be a mentor - teenagers. This kid certainly had a mouth on him. 

Wilbur’s eyes narrowed in anger as he gripped his teacup, trying his best to stay calm. “Well, whether you like it or not, you’re all of Panem’s entertainment now.” Wilbur quipped as he moved to walk away. “So maybe you should learn to be a bit more likable.”

As he began to walk across the car to move toward a table in the corner of the room, he felt a heavy weight on his back as he lost his grip on his cup as it landed on the metal ground of the car with a loud crash, the coffee staining the expensive carpets. He felt punches on his back and head as someone tried to pin him down. Wilbur sighed in frustration. With ease, he jabbed Tommy’s side, putting him off balance, and flipped the kid over, grabbing his arm and pulling it behind his back. Tommy struggled against Wilbur’s grip, angry. He could see tears in the teenager’s eyes as he practically growled at Wilbur. “Take it back you bitch! Get off of me and fight! Take it back or I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!” Tommy’s anger slowly disappeared as he began to cry, his body shaking as he sucked in breaths, slowly realizing what exactly he said. “I’ll… I’ll…” Wilbur’s heart couldn’t help but ache at the sight of the poor kid, bringing back memories of that time, that feeling of being trapped.

The door at the other end of the train car flew open, to reveal Sam and the girl tribute from the Reaping, Sarah. “Wilbur, what are you doing?” Sam questioned as Wilbur quickly got off of Tommy, holding out his hand for the teenager to take. 

“Uh, right.” As Tommy’s eyes met Wilbur’s the mentor noticed how they scanned across his face, confused at Wilbur’s sudden change from annoyance to kindness. Wilbur smiled slightly. “Let’s save the real fighting for the arena, yeah?” Tommy hesitated before taking Wilbur’s hand as he helped him up, getting even more confused as he quickly wiped off his tear-stained cheeks.

“Sarah Teller and Tommy Innit, meet your Mentor, Wilbur Soot.”

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Tubbo formally met his other tribute mate, a girl he knew from those fancy business dinners Schlatt would host - he never really talked with her much then, but it was nice to see a familiar face, that was for sure. Her name was Crystal.

They arrived and settled in without much really going on. Their advisor, the one with the devil horns a few hours earlier was their advisor, Bad. They were very confused at first why anyone would name their child that, until Bad insisted it was a nickname for ‘Badboy’… Tubbo couldn’t say he didn’t believe the advisor with some of the fancy and absurd names that seemed so popular in the richer districts. “Now, the best part is that even though you are both chosen as tributes, you’ll be able to see all the Capitol can offer before you’re in the arena. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!”

“I guess it’ll be kind of cool to see the Capitol.” Crystal agreed as she took a sip of a fruitful smelling juice of some kind. Her eyes furrowed as if she was focusing intently on the next words out of her mouth. “I mean, this year economy-wise wasn’t particularly the best for them, seeing as their main exports have been plagued with attacks. It’ll be interesting to see how they fair under unseemly conditions.”

“E...Economy?” Tubbo asked in a silent question to his fellow tribute, whose face flushed in embarrassment. 

“My father is the head of exports for District 3. Knowing about stocks and stuff is kind of his thing… then, I guess, it became my thing.” Crystal shrugged, and Tubbo thoughtfully bit into a buttered crust of bread. “I don’t really think that’ll be too helpful in the Games, though.”

“Speaking of the Games, where’s that old man… I told him to meet us here almost an hour ago.” Bad thoughtfully added with a sigh. “He’s going to miss dinner completely if he doesn’t hurry up.”

Almost as if on cue, the car door slid open, and in walked a tall broad blonde-haired man who looked completely mentally checked out. He yawned as he reached over the table to grab an apple and one of Bad’s homemade muffins from the basket. He looked over to the two kids and gave them a slight smile and a two-fingered salute as if to say ‘hi’. “Crystal, Tubbo, this is Phil Craft, your Mentor,” Bad said, quickly gesturing to the man, anger bubbling to the surface. “Phil, where have you been?” Bad demanded, leaning over to snatch the muffin out of Phil’s hand. “No muffins until you eat actual food! We’re in District Two tomorrow and they expect us up and ready by 9 am sharp-!”

“Alright, alright! Stop freaking out, okay?” Phil pinched his nose in annoyance, turning his gaze to look over at the two teenagers again. Phil met Tubbo’s eyes and smirked. “Also, you said I needed real food?” Phil threw the apple up into the air as it caught wind on his arm, traveling over his shoulder blades and taking off of his opposite hand, landing in his mouth as he sunk his teeth into the apple flesh. “That count?” He asked between chewing as Tubbo and Crystal couldn’t help but smile and laugh, clapping to applaud Phil’s trick.

“You bail on us for a whole hour, show up to eat a single apple, and then got back to your little hermit hut?!” Bad’s voice raised slightly. “What do you even do in there that’s more important than this, huh??”

Phil’s playful smile dropped for a moment, replaced with something more melancholy as Bad clearly struck a nerve. There was a tense moment of silence before Phil resumed his happy persona. “Well, I didn’t mean to be a bother and disrupt your dinner. Now that I have my apple and my muffin, I’ll take my leave.” He looked over to the two tributes. “I’ll see both of you in the morning.” Phil smiled before quickly exiting the room once more, leaving a slightly irritated Bad, and two very off-put tributes.

Tubbo couldn’t sleep. The day’s events weighed too heavy on his mind - the Reaping, saying goodbye to his father, dealing with the thoughts of his own inevitable fate. He missed Schlatt’s warm embrace, he missed how his father ruffled up his hair just in the right way to say ‘I’m proud of you, kid.’ He missed home and its faint smell of motor oil and coal from the factories that always seemed to seep in through the windows and cracks in the walls just right. He didn’t feel safe here, he was in one of the fanciest bedrooms on a train that he knew he’d never be able to get a ticket for years, and yet nothing about this place felt safe.

He was being chased by something, something with claws and teeth that whispered nothing but death. But Tubbo didn’t want to die. Even if he knew it was his fate, Tubbo did not want to die. So he ran, his legs quickly getting sore and tired from overuse, yet he pushed on. He heard whispers in his ears, taunting him, laughing at his pathetic escape. Tears ran down Tubbo’s eyes as he pressed his hands over his ears and continued to run, something pinned him to the ground, claws sinking into his back as he whimpered in pain. A chill ran down his spine as the monster growled close to Tubbo’s ear. His heartbeat quicker as he begged, no pleaded to whatever was out there, please please I just want to live-!

He awoke with a start, looking around, tears streaming down his face as his body shook with an adrenaline rush. His hands found their way over his heart, making sure he was still alive as arms wrapped around him, shushing him and holding him close. “Woah there, Woah there… it’s okay, it’s okay. It was just a nightmare, it wasn’t real, shhh…” The panic in Tubbo’s chest slowly quieted as he wrapped his arms around the person, needing comfort desperately. The figure seemed startled for a moment before brushing back some of Tubbo’s hair out of his eyes. Tubbo looked at the figure for a moment, confused.

“Phil?”

“Hey mate.” Phil smiled warmly. “That was quite the nightmare, yeah? You were flopping around like a fish out of water.”

“But…” Tubbo sniffed, pulling away to wipe away his tears. “But why? How?”

“You sounded like you were in physical pain, I was worried. Can’t have a tribute dead before they even get to the arena, you know. Would really throw off the whole schedule.” Phil half-joked as he looked down at the mattress, not being able to meet Tubbo’s eyes at that moment. Tubbo’s gaze was focused on his mentor.

“Why’d you help me, we just met today for like two seconds at most-”

“It doesn’t really matter that much, I was just passing by-!” Phil dismissed quickly before Tubbo’s tone got more serious.

“Phil, if you’re going to be my Mentor you’ve gotta at least tell me the truth. I need you to tell me the absolute truth when it comes to this because I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, what I’m up against, how I’m even supposed to survive, but you do. I need you if I ever stand even a chance of getting home. Please.” Phil let out a frustrated sigh.

“You reminded me of my son, that’s all. When he used to be a tribute.” Phil said, looking toward the ground. “He’d have nightmares, he was so scared but I told him I’d never leave his side, so when he got picked I went with him as his Mentor.” Phil sucked on his cheek. “I thought that if I went with him, talked him through it, got every single sponsor I could, he’d…” Phil sighed. “I just didn’t want for you to have to deal with the nightmare alone, no one should have to handle everything alone.” Moving off his bed, he looked over. “I’ll be across the hall, okay?”

“Oh...Okay.” Tubbo said, nodding. “Thanks.”

Phil nodded back as he turned and Tubbo saw Phil’s hand move toward his chest quickly, was he putting his hand over his heart or something…? As Phil moved toward the door, one question stood on Tubbo’s mind, he bit his lip for a moment, considering. 

“Phil, wait-!” Phil turned around, and Tubbo saw Phil’s hand wrap around a necklace of some kind he didn’t notice before, in the shape of a heart. “Did… did he survive? Your son?”

A tense silence followed.

“I think that’s enough for tonight,” Phil said. “No more questions, you need to get some sleep.”

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