#if this isn’t a common way of thinking in the leverage fandom I would be both shocked and disappointed

[1doesnotsimplyhavejust1fandam]

It’s the way that Nathan Ford is BY FAR the least interesting character of the original Leverage five, and yet he’s the one who gets SO much backstory and context to himself. I’m literally watching the season 4 finale and I just don’t care that his father was murdered because Nate’s being incredibly annoying. Trying to be empathetic about a character grieving doesn’t even work for me here because his entire team is trying to make sure he doesn’t MURDER the man/men responsible for his father’s death and he’s not letting them in at all. It’s part of the reason I dislike his character so much. There’s hardly ever moments when he is genuinely vulnerable, not even with Sophie, who he is supposed to be in love with (yeah yeah, I know, they’re “friends with benefits” right now, but that’s not fooling anyone with eyes even without the knowledge that they end up together at the end). Nate is this mastermind of a character and it’s cool and intriguing for all of half of season before you’re scratching your head like, where’s the care for his team? He was kind to Hardison in the evaluation form and he didn’t want to make Eliot kill again, for any reason, but it’s so hard to appreciate his humanity when he’s spent the past three(ish) seasons on the verge of drinking himself to death, verbally bashing Sophie, and only being about the work. Sophie having a notebook full of moments when Nate put her or her ideas down isn’t funny or a moment of character growth. Nate doesn’t fully understands how that’s so shitty of him, as team leader, but also as her sexual (romantic?) partner. Every moment of Sophie and Nate’s relationship has to be fought for BY SOPHIE, and at this point, I don’t even know why she even wants him. He may be acting as Robin Hood and helping people, but he’s barely even a person while he’s doing it. I’ve never liked Nate, but making my way through season 4 has definitely given me the hardest time with remembering his redeeming qualities. Every time he’s vaguely misogynistic or acts like an immature man child when it comes to processing his emotions without alcohol (which happens: never), I question why he’s the main character, why my screen isn’t filled up with Hardison being the sassiest mf of them all or OT3 moments or Sophie conning the hell out of men who are led by their dicks and not their minds. When I’m watching the Nate centric scenes/episodes, I’m never wishing for more, I’m wishing the rest of the team was in the spotlight instead

#leverage spoilers #anti Nathan ford #anti Nate ford #leverage #sophie devereaux #parker leverage #alec hardison #eliot spencer #if this isn’t a common way of thinking in the leverage fandom I would be both shocked and disappointed #the office job #really tried its best to make Nate putting Sophie down a reverse workplace romance thing #but all it actually succeeded in doing was making me hate nate more bc of his inability to compartmentalize #if he’s the mastermind then he should be emotionally mature enough to separate his romantic feelings from his job #sorry not sorry #this has been a Nathan ford hate post

[underworldreaderinserts]

I've been waiting for some Zagreus love, so thank you for existing! Can I ask for general dating headcannons for Zagreus please? Thank you for your time!

Oh, my! I’m so happy to have had such a warm welcoming! Thank you for being one of the first to send in a request to my blog. I’m very happy to know that the fandom is just as excited as I am to publish my content♡ And of course you may have Zagreus dating headcanons, hun♡ Thank you for being so patient with me, and I hope you like what I’ve supplied! (I really hope I gave what you were looking for. I don’t mind rewriting the request if it isn’t!) -- Ryan

Note: Since these are going to be general dating headcanons for our beloved Zagreus, I think I’ll keep them generic, and close to classical storyline Zag, and if anyone’s curious about how he’d be in another setting or a different AU, just throw me the request♡

✧ When you get into your relationship with Zagreus, it takes a while for the word to spread through the domain.

     ✧ To me, Zagreus comes off as the type of person that doesn’t necessarily go out of his way to announce he’s in a relationship, but that doesn’t mean he won’t sing his partner’s praises.

          ✧ Not that he would hide you from his father, of course (He’s far from being ashamed to call you his partner).

               ✧ But he would absolutely delay your formal introduction to his father, seeing as they’re not... on the best of terms, at the moment (and using you as blackmail or leverage to get the upper hand is definitely something that Zagreus would expect Hades to do).

✧ Of course, Nyx is the first to know.

     ✧ Zagreus had spent many of his nights (days?) back from his failed escape attempts at the House of Hades talking with her. Recounting his fights, updating his progress. Describe how his relationships with each of the Infernal Arms was progressing. And, ruminate on each one of the people here who cares about him.

          ✧ At some point -- and Nyx could probably tell you when that was -- his conversations went from his goal to make it to the surface, to more trivial things, like hopes, and dreams. It hadn’t surprised Nyx, as she had keenly noticed the time he’d spent with her grew shorter and shorter, and the course he followed to talk to her after each return delayed more and more.

               ✧ Whether he told her point blank, or she had the intuition enough, Nyx just knew. It wasn’t hard for her to see, what with the way he was around you. At this point, she had already known it was you who had captivated young Zagreus’s heart.

✧ Yes-- Zagreus found himself spending more and more time with you. Looking for you as soon as he pulled himself out of the Pool of Styx. 

     ✧ He’d loved the way your eyes lit up as he’d regale the tales of all the challenges he’d faced on his way out of here.

          ✧ He’d lose hours -- days, even, if he could -- talking to you, and listening to your praise, your concern, and your encouragement. He drank deeply of your being, and he found it even sweeter than the Gods’ ambrosia.

✧ Although he was trying to make his way out, at every attempt he made, he’d always bring something back for you. Though he noticed death only takes his Obol, and his family’s blessings, not any of the treasures he’d find along the way.

     ✧ Zagreus, bless his soul, was rather sheltered in the department of “what are appropriate gifts to give your partner.” Aphrodite would remind him of those bottles of nectar he’d had stored -- and better yet the ambrosia! -- But Zagreus was a bit more earnest (and certainly less smooth!) than that.

          ✧ He’d bring back the broken chain of a Wringer’s cuff, or a chipped staff from a Witch. Maybe a broken crystal off the Doomstone, or an arrow shot by a Strongbow. Junk that he’d pick up along the way, but they all had one thing in common; the thought of you that passed his mind when he’d take down that adversary.

               ✧ Hypnos dealt him heavy judgement, watching Zagreus hand over these broken pieces of his enemies to you, and would mention it before he’d leave the Pool of Styx -- that there were much better gifts to give than such distasteful trinkets.

                    ✧ But each time Zagreus presented these spoils of victory to you, the excitement and endearment that you’d feel would cause your soul to glow. And that, to him, was worth more than any of the treasures that he could break out of his father’s domain.

✧ It’s safe to say that dating Zagreus would mean a mother figure in Nyx, a few Chthonic brothers, a pile of enemies as gifts, and late, late nights in the lounge, cuddled on the extravagant loveseats as Zagreus would narrate his travels through the Underworld, holding you close against him.

Even if he couldn’t make it to the surface just yet, he had a little bit of paradise, right here, in his arms for the night.

#Zagreus x Reader #Zagreus Headcanons #SFW Zagreus #Headcanons #SFW Headcanons #Hades Video Game #Hades Video Game x Reader

[quietrainfan]

Hey! Anyone want some heavy platonic Loceit angsty headcanons I've extracted from the new episode? Well, too bad because it's happening regardless. :)

Yes, also some Unsympathetic Patton. You know what blog you're on. (This interpretation/headcanon shall not die. Not here.)

(Also, this is going to combine my observations and thoughts as well, so sorry in advance if this post turns out as a bit of a mess.)

Alright, so! Orange Side confirmation. How we feelin', Sanders Sides fandom, how we feelin'?

Honestly, the Orange Side theory wasn't something I was really all that into. It was a 'meh, could be cool' headcanon for me personally. But I have to say the way the reveal was handled made me jump in my seat with pure joy. No joke, I audibly gasped when Logan's eyes flashed orange.

It was all downhill from there, I was excited. Anyone who knows me will tell you I'm a sucker for character's eyes glowing when they've reached their limit or are displaying a power they've never shown before, combine that with an unexpected reveal and I'm sold.

Plus, glowing eyes have been a common theme with Unsympathetic content and Dark Side headcanons so you could imagine how the first peak into the Orange Side's existence (or, rather confirmation. we all saw the 'hello' hint, Orange, you cheeky little munchkin.) was his color in Logan's eyes made me feel. It was so cool!!! Ah!

Then Thomas had to tease us again at the end card with our boy Orange's eyes popping up in the darkness, waiting for his chance to be too loud to ignore. Like, the audacity. Who do you think you are, Thomas?! (That was a joke. Sorry, I'm just really pumped.)

Also, Remus got quite a few laughs out of me. Ah, I missed him.

Okay, headcanon time! We're going to do Logan first, then Janus, then combine the two. Sound good? Alright, here we go (Trigger Warning for discussions of alcoholism, please if anything I write here sounds insensitive or inaccurate, let me know and I will edit. Also, no need to read if you don't want to. Stay safe.) :

Logan

Logan knew where to grab for that alcohol bottle.

I mean, I guess that makes sense since he lives there and is naturally the most observant Side. But...that bottle's placement was a little too convenient.

Sure it was played up as a joke and it was funny.

But something about the way Logan threw his coffee into the sink and quickly replaced it with the wine stuck out to me.

I've joked about Logan and/or Janus having to "drink to cope" due to sharing the single brain cell Thomas has amongst all the chaos. But seeing that in an actual episode, even as a gag, is kind of...different.

Let me explain.

This may be a common thing for Logan that he struggles with.

He wakes up early to be the first one to help Thomas start the day, naturally. Logan goes to make his cup of coffee and there's always the lingering urge to take a sip of wine before anyone can see because he just...can't face everyone without needing just a little bit of it to cloud out all the gross, petty, negative feelings he experiences every day around them.

He's logic. He can't be drinking and risk any more harm to Thomas's function.

So, it's a constant battle with coffee vs wine, coffee vs wine, coffee vs wine-

Most of the time Logan is able to resist and go with the coffee.

It doesn't make him feel good in the slightest. If anything it makes him feel even worse knowing he'll be more alert that day.

Logan hates that was even a thought at all. He needs to be alert. Otherwise everything will fall apart. He is the rock in the system and without him everything will crumble.

Such a selfish mindset. He needed to focus.

Other days Logan just doesn't have it in him to discard the wine regardless of how much he wants to.

He knows what the day holds for him. It was all so repetitive at this point. Logan knew when he wasn't able to get through it despite it all.

That didn't stop him from shaming himself for caving. He should be able to handle this. He's made so much progress with resisting it up to this point but today he through it away again because he just had to, right?

Sometimes Logan finds himself "cheating" by hiding a couple drops of wine into his coffee on days when he chose the coffee but later felt particularly bad about...a lot of things, into his second cup.

Logan more often times chooses neither. The temptation for clouding out the others was just too strong and was a waste of time.

Logan is beyond tired of the others.

Every single action they have agitates him now. No matter how minor it is.

Roman's loud voice and constant references makes Logan's toes unconsciously curl beneath his shoes. Even a silent warm smile and wave from the prince fills Logan with an unpleasant tingle in his knuckles.

Virgil's neverending foreboding and unnecessary nasty remarks that he doesn't even bother to filter provokes Logan's new habit of biting his tongue. Any kindness he ever gives him makes his stomach twist.

Patton's nicknames, poking for for a laugh, his "sweet" way of shoving away any objection he may have, how casually he behaves as if he isn't part of any problems- how quickly he's prepared to "bounce back". Logan feels like every word, action from him something steps on a guitar cord in the back of his mind that makes the ugliest, loud, screeching sound. He feels this strange warm fuzzy ache he can't define. All he hears is that cord playing faster and faster the longer he stays in their presence. Logan no longer trusts himself alone with Patton.

Logan thinks if he just separates from the others long enough, the ugly strumming noise will go away.

But he's so wrong.

Logan can hear it even when he's all alone. When it's finally silent, he still can't get rid of it.

It's loudest when Logan is alone in his room. Logan has lost count of how many nights he's spent clenching his head, quietly sobbing, and praying for it to just go away already.

Logan often feels like he's losing it.

On nights where the sounds are particularly louder than usual, he swears he can see orange shadows creeping around him, lights of the color flashing on and off, he sometimes even sees it seeping in and out of the cracks of his door like a thick fog. At times he'll even wake to it glowing absurdly bright through his window.

It's just the sunrise. Logan tells himself. He has to believe that. Everything else looked normal, after all.

What's worse is Logan doesn't know how long he's been hearing this sound or seeing the strange lights.

Patton knows about Logan's late night and early morning struggles.

But surprise, surprise, he pretends as if he's nonthewiser.

If either Virgil or Roman asks about Logan, Patton will answer: "Oh, that silly billy's probably got his head in one of his astronomy books again! I wouldn't bother him right now."

Knowing full well he's having an emotional breakdown in his room that gets worse every day.

Knowing about the little sneaks of alcohol in his hot morning beverage. Might even speak about yummy drink combinations when they hang out in the living room, while Logan is present, specifically and even only on the days Patton knows he's cheating with his bad habit, while he's still drinking it.

The further Logan is to the edge, the better. Patton is still bitter about the events of Redux ending in his favor, after all. He needs leverage from somewhere.

When Thomas left to see Nico, Logan heard the cord again. His chest tightened and though he could feel the tears welling up, he kept them down.

Thomas hasn't been very happy lately. He had to let him have this.

No matter how loud those cords get.

Janus

I noticed that Janus was either unseen by the others or unacknowledged by them.

Janus was near all of them but far enough that he was separated.

He could've just popped up at the end without them noticing but...that's less angsty therefore less fun so-

Janus has been the instigator for bringing Sides that have been hidden away to be brought to light for a long time. If the assumption that Janus let Remus out is true.

He's always been hinting at upcoming events that are sure to come if Thomas continues to ignore certain aspects of himself.

He knows. He knows our Orange boy is getting worse and soon will be too loud to ignore. Janus wants to protect Thomas but that's becoming harder every day. Thomas is making it harder.

Janus will reveal the Orange Side eventually. And very soon. Hell, that's looking like less and less of a choice considering Logan's...outburst.

I think Janus has this painful awareness that he can be seriously hated for doing his job. After all, he's always the one who's forced them to acknowledge uncomfortable truths about Thomas.

He's the one giving them all of those hard pills to swallow and especially after Remus, it is definitely overwhelming and exhausting to be met with.

They question their roles more and more because of how used they are to the fixed mindset Thomas has had for such a long time.

That can't feel good.

Janus knows that his job may cause more hatred to fester the more that's revealed.

Janus is being kept at arms length and he knows that won't stop any time soon.

But he's a clever snake. That won't keep him from keeping an eye on Patton.

(Find it real suspicious that Patton was all mushy with Janus in that end card but still is at a big distance from him.)

Loceit

Janus will sometimes find Logan in the common room with his head in his arms, sprawled out against the coffee table. His glasses being discarded from half his face, unmistakable tears lazily dripping out of his lifeless eyes.

Janus would wordlessly go to the sink and grab a glass, filling it with water.

Janus goes over to Logan, giving him a gentle rub on the back. He urges him to sit up. It takes Logan a few minutes but eventually does.

Janus hands Logan the water, supporting the back of his neck as struggles to get it down, reminding him to take his time.

Janus takes his glasses and gently sets them on the table. He hands Logan some tissues.

Logan lifelessly takes them and tries to clean his face. But he always ends up crying into them.

Janus moves Logan unkempt bangs from his face before moving his head to his shoulder. Janus manifests a warm blanket over Logan and uses a bit of his abilities to soothe the shorter man's pain, tenderly putting pressure on his neck.

Janus and Logan have a talk. Logan always asks why he bothers to stop and comfort him.

"You've helped me through a lot, Logan. Not returning the favor is out of the question."

That was always his answer.

Janus and Logan do this often.

Janus opens up about sometimes needing a bit of a drink himself from time to time. Though mostly that consists of tea more often than not, he sometimes has a glass of wine or two to relax on days when it's particularly hard.

He feels ashamed of it. Janus has to be the strongest out of everyone, especially the Dark Sides. Allowing things to faze him was the worst case scenario. At least, to that degree.

But Janus understands that isn't his fault and urges Logan not to blame himself, either. While he hated that weakness he occasionally submitted to, he wasn't going to let the rare slip up to define the worth of his role.

Logan thinks that Janus really is the strongest out of all of them just for saying things like that and he's being too hard on himself.

On nights when things become too much Janus will sit with Logan and share a drink. They try to have as many conversations without wine as possible but sometimes Janus says "screw it" and sits with Logan with one or two drinks.

Just having Janus there helps Logan choose his coffee in the mornings and feel as if he's being heard even a little bit.

Now if only those cords could actually quiet down, that'd be even better.

#unsympathetic patton #tw alcoholism #tw emotional breakdown #tw emotional neglect #sympathetic deceit #sympathetic janus #platonic loceit #platonic sanders sides #familial loceit #logan angst #tw disrespect of triggers #familial sanders sides #deceit angst #janus angst #tw implied hallucinations #sanders sides spoilers #holy shit sorry for this long long monster post #but I'm back! hey all! #orange boy is here! and he's what we predicted! #dee is stunning as always #I'll post again very soon but this took all of yesterday and today to type and my battery is begging for mercy #but definitely look forward to more headcanons and unsympathetic patton content- I'm pumped #hurt and comfort

[reflectingiridescent]

D, L, P, R, and T for the fandom questions?

D: What was the first thing you ever contributed to a fandom?

It was a high school AU fic hehe. I believe I cross-posted it to ff.net from like, a message board. 😂

L: Your favorite fanartist/author gives you one request, what do you ask for?

This one really made me think. I think it would be some kind of thorough exploration of Sophie’s relationship with both Hardison and Parker, in either a canon or an AU setting. With all the canon ship stuff sprinkled throughout, but the central relationships would be Sophie & Hardison and Sophie & Parker.

And then the mood of the fic would be really lush, gilded, jewel-toned, and intimate. Not necessarily lighthearted but emotionally satisfying?

P: Invent a random AU for any fandom (we always need more ideas)

I like the idea that the Leverage crew would have found each other with or without Dubenich, so I propose the following:

The Rashomon Job goes down nearly the same way, but it affects everyone more profoundly. They’re all a little more aware of each others’ presence. Sam’s illness is the reason Nate doesn’t go after any of them or look too much into it after, but he’s pretty sure they were all there. The compressed space for time that happens in his version of the story is real time. Everyone remembers that night much better. Something sticks about it, because they all messed each other up, but something about the forces present…it’s compelling somehow, hard for them to let go. It’s always in the back of their minds.

Dubenich doesn’t come to Nate in that airport, but Nate also doesn’t get on the plane. Sophie was part of the reason he was looking for a job in Chicago, and he’s pretty drunk and very empty-feeling. He looks her up on impulse, decides to spend an extra day in town.

Sophie’s happy to see him. She wishes it was truly just about her and not about a job (Nate hasn’t decided to pull a job yet, but Sophie always knew he had it in him - she doesn’t even have to convince him; he sits there and talks himself into it while she listens). It takes Sophie a while to get it, but she does. He says he doesn’t know what he wants, but he actually wants revenge. Sophie doesn’t bring it up. He’ll come to it in his own time.

They put the rest of the team together off of the memory of that one job a couple years back. Hardison still joins for the rep/challenge and Parker joins for the money. I think Eliot joins out of a need to do better work but also because he sort of feels he owes it to Nate (I think in this one, Eliot knows what Nate did for him accidentally on the night of The Rashomon Job). The combination of Sophie and Nate sells the concept pretty well.

I’m not sure if they immediately go after IYS. They probably work up to it. A lot of the storylines in the first season would stay the same (and the finale is extra crunchy because Nate tries to blame the forming of the crew on Sophie; Sophie says that he ultimately formed them to go after IYS, etc etc).

I just like the idea that the five of them would have always found each other!

R: A pairing you ship that you don't think anyone else ships

I’m very sure I fly alone on the Selar/Alyssa Ogawa ship for TNG because they’re such minor characters and (I believe?) don’t even have a scene together, and I'm okay with that. 😂 I think they’d be lovely together.

But hmmm a fandom we have in common. This isn’t a ship really but I would have been cool with Isobel and Tsukiko having some kind of long-term supportive relationship. Like not romantic but just like…support.

I feel like there are no rarepairs on Leverage because everyone’s so shippable…but there’s an AU where a few things are different and Eliot and Tara do really nicely together.

And…I can’t be the only person but Florence/Svetlana from Chess.

T: What are your favorite male/male ships or female/female ships?

I’ll do f/f because I don’t have many m/m at all!

Tenoh Haruka/Kaioh Michiru, Sailor Moon

Chibiusa/Tomoe Hotaru, Sailor Moon

Elphaba/Glinda, Wicked (I like their book counterparts best for this but the musical also works)

Susan Ivanova/Talia Winters, Babylon 5

Wil/Vivian, Saving Face

prime!Philippa Georgiou/(Afsaneh) Paris, Star Trek (mostly Discovery)

Kira Nerys/Jadzia Dax, Star Trek DS9

Sophie Devereaux/Tara Cole, Leverage (help)

Sophie Devereaux/Maggie Collins, Leverage

Anissa Pierce/Grace Choi, Black Lightning

#I feel wrong not adding dragon age ships to this but they’re like all involving ocs? #or like I could do leliana or isabela with a lot of people just at very specific points in time #also #I was speaking to myself quietly while I was typing this #and my cousin and his bf were like NO GAY SHIPS? #and now we are watching a very sexy mlm foreign movie marathon today I suppose #replies #alinaandalion #memes #ask box memes #long post

[set-phasers-to-whump]

there’s (no) tomorrow

prompt: begging

whumpee: nick burkhardt

fandom: grimm

hey! here is me hurting nick Again...and me writing nick/hank Again...i have a problem lol. anyways i hope you like this :)! (title from afterlife by ingrid michaelson)

One minute, Nick and Hank have just split up to explore two hallways of an abandoned building that seems to be connected to their case; and the next, Nick feels a sharp pain on the back of his skull, and suddenly he’s waking up tied to a chair. 

“Hank?” he calls out, straining against the study ropes holding him in place. 

“I’m here,” Hank replies, from directly behind him. “You okay?”

“Yeah, you?”

“As good as I can be,” Hank says, and Nick can feel him moving, trying to escape his restraints, too - they must be tied up back-to-back. He turns his head as best as he can and confirms this. He also turns just in time to see a man emerge from the shadows, holding a gun. 

“Enough talking,” says the man, stepping closer to Nick and Hank. 

“What do you -”

“I said be quiet, Grimm.”

That’s not good. This guy knows who - what - Nick is, but Nick has never seen him before in his life.

“Now. I think I’m going to kill you.”

“Isn’t that a little -” Hank starts, but he’s cut off by their captor reminding him that he’d said to shut up. 

“Quiet, whoever you are. I’m killing you, and there’s no point in arguing.”

This statement makes Nick downright angry. This man doesn’t even know who Hank is but wants to kill him, and won’t bother saying why. Nick can guess that it has something to do with the murder they’re investigating, but whoever he is, he hadn’t even been on their radar, so there’s very little leverage here. 

“Why are you going to kill us?” he asks.

“You think you can convince me not to?”

“There’s always a compromise,” Hank offers. “You don’t have to kill anyone.”

“Yes, I do.”

The gun clicks, and Nick hears Hank take a sharp breath in. He pictures the gun pressing against Hank’s forehead and is about to offer up anything that this guy wants when suddenly the man is in front of him, pressing the gun into his forehead. Nick looks right into his eyes as the cold metal digs into his skin, but there’s nothing there. And then the man steps away, fiddling with the trigger. 

“I’m going to enjoy hurting you,” he says, and he steps out of Nick’s line of view, presumably straight into Hank’s. “I’m going to shoot you, over and over, starting at the feet and making it all the way up to your head. I’m going to kill you and I’m going to make it hurt and the Grimm can’t do anything about it.”

Nick pulls harder still at the ropes, feels them dig into and cut his wrists and ankles, but they don’t budge. He hears the gun’s safety click on and off and on and off again and he has to do something, so he asks, “what about me?” 

“What about you?”

“Aren’t you going to kill me too?” Their captor hasn’t actually said what he intends to do with Nick. Maybe he can bargain here...maybe this guy wants him, for some reason. It would make sense. He knows Nick’s a Grimm, after all. Maybe he wants something from Nick badly enough that he’ll let Hank go to get it.

“Nick!” Hank whispers, alarmed. Nick ignores him. He can’t do this, not now. 

“Why would I do that?”

“Don’t you want to?”

“Not particularly.” Well, if he doesn’t want to kill Nick, maybe he’ll want to hurt him, at least. Hurt him and let Hank go. 

“Look, you don’t even know who he is. I’m the Grimm. I’m who you want to hurt. So just let him go. Let him go and you can do whatever you want with me.”

“I don’t think I will.”

This man is evidently dead set on killing Hank and leaving Nick alive. But he can’t kill Hank, he can’t. He can’t kill Hank. So Nick begs.

“Please. Kill me instead, or hurt me, or do whatever you want with me. But let him go, he didn’t do anything wrong. You can’t want anything with him.” 

“No, stop, hold on, I'm sure we can reach some kind of agreement,” Hank insists, and then there’s a sort of smacking sound, metal hitting flesh, and their captor says, “don’t you talk,” and Hank makes a sort of angry and indignant sound but doesn’t say anything more. 

Something is telling Nick that this is hopeless. That the only way this ends is with Hank dead and him not able to do anything about it. But he can’t...he can’t live a life after that. He can’t get Hank killed. So he keeps pleading, growing more and more desperate.

“Please, you don’t need to kill him, he didn’t do anything to you, I brought him into this, if you want someone dead you should kill me. Please don’t kill him.” Because Hank is so good and he doesn’t deserve this…Nick dragged him into the world of a Grimm and put him into danger and Hank came along willingly because he is the best person Nick knows and he’s about to get killed and Nick cannot do anything and he’s almost shouting now, desperate to be heard, listened to, desperate to save Hank because if Hank survives this then everything is okay. 

“Kill. Me,” he insists, and his voice has changed now, a low, dark thing, full of danger and blood. “You don’t want anything from him. He does not deserve what you are going to do to him. I do. So let him go. And take me.”

“Nick, stop.”

“I thought I told you to stop talking,” says their captor. 

“Hank…” Nick says quietly, fading off into silence when he realizes there’s nothing he can say. 

A shot rings out, then, and it feels like Nick's heart has stopped. He can’t breathe and there’s a horrible ringing noise in his ears and then there’s a much, much better noise. 

“Nick?”

“Hank!”

“Shut up, both of you. Now.”

They both fall silent. Nick listens intently, hears Hank breathing, a little too fast but not pained - he hasn’t been shot. And neither has Nick. 

“Now. You bring up some good points, Grimm,” says their captor, and finally, he walks in front of Nick, gun raised. “I would love nothing more than to see your blood spilling across this floor.”

Nick inhales sharply, but nods. He’d rather it be his blood than Hank’s. 

“I want to make you suffer. But you keep saying, ‘kill me, kill me,’ so you want to be killed. And I can’t have you getting anything you want. So I’ll shoot you, and I’ll make it hurt, but I’ll make you live. And then I’ll shoot…Hank, here, and make it hurt, and make him die. And you will live through it.”

“Stop, please -” Nick begs, but then there’s a bang and pain explodes in his torso and it hurts but all he can think of is Hank and did the bullet pass through him and hit Hank too, and is there anything he can do, and he tries to think of something to say but the pain is too much and he can’t think and he can’t speak and there’s blood soaking his clothes and he thinks that maybe he will die anyway, and he hopes he will, because if Hank dies then there is not much of a point to him living, and he closes his eyes but they’re forced back open when Hank says his name. 

“Nick?”

I’m here, I’m alive, Nick thinks, and tries to speak the words. But he still can’t, still can’t…

There’s a sort of scratching and scraping sound and he wonders what it is but doesn’t really care, and then their captor is smiling, and Nick wants to scream at him, but then he says, 

“Hey, what are you doing? How’d you -”

And then Hank is there, running forwards at the man, frayed ropes hanging from his wrists and ankles, and there’s a shot and both of them drop to the ground and Nick watches and tries to pull against the restraints but he’s too weak and there’s too much blood everywhere and he feels lightheaded and he is afraid, and then there’s another gunshot and the movement on the floor stops. He watches, and waits. 

Hank stands up, gun in hand. He’s breathing hard but he’s not bleeding and he’s alive and there is a hole in the head of their captor and he is okay. 

“Nick!”

Hank is in front of him now, hands frantically fumbling with the ropes around his wrists and ankles, and then he’s free and sinking forwards and Hank catches him and for a second just holds him and then pulls away, peeling off his jacket, and says, “sorry,” and then there’s a pressure on Nick’s torso and it hurts and maybe he screams or maybe he whimpers and then Hank is there again and he’s saying something but Nick can’t focus on him enough to understand. God, he’s tired. He closes his eyes and thinks there’s a hand on his face, and then there’s nothing. 

--

He wakes up slowly, like he’s coming out of a thick fog. Everything feels weird and sort of floaty and disconnected and then he opens his eyes and works out why. 

He’s in the hospital and there’s an IV in his arm, which means drugs in his system, hence the floatiness and disconnection. He can feel something on his torso, which, if he’s remembering correctly, is where he’d been shot. He’d been shot, and…

“Hank?”

“I’m here,” comes Hank’s voice, from next to him, and Nick nearly jumps out of the bed. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

Nick would lie and say that he hadn’t been scared, but the heart monitor attached to his finger says otherwise, so he gives a small shrug. “It’s okay,” he says. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

He turns to look at Hank and smiles at him and repeats what he’d just said. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Hank looks pained, but he says, “I’m glad you’re okay, too. You had me scared for a minute.”

“Sorry,” Nick apologizes. “I won’t do it again.”

“You better not.”

Hank is so close to him right now, just a few inches away from his bed, and he’s smiling, and Nick really wants to kiss him. 

The drugs tell him to go for it, and his common sense tells him to at least ask first. 

“Can I kiss you?”

Hank looks startled for all of a second, then happy, then serious. “Let’s save that for when you’re not high on morphine, okay?”

“Sure,” Nick agrees easily. “I’ll kiss you tomorrow.”

He does. 

aaaaaa thanks for reading this!!!!! ik like nobody ships them and i am sorry to keep writing it but i cannot stop lmao

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump20 #begging #held captive #tied up #shot #grimm #nick burkhardt #my writing #i say things #this month really has been happy pride to my favorite rarepair lmao #sorry but thats just how it goes sometimes ig

[rotationalsymmetry]

There are two small things that drive me, a Leverage fan, absolutely up the wall about the Leverage fandom.

First, the popularity of The Rundown Job, an objectively terrible episode that I can’t stand to re-watch. It’s like Parker, Hardison, and Eliot got bodily transported into a different show, one which isn’t even in the same genre.

Second, this absolutely wild idea that if Eliot is in a polyamorous relationship with Parker and Hardison (which, yeah, as OT3’s go that one is really special) that means that any time he expresses interest in anyone else, something is going horribly wrong.

Eliot’s seducer characterization is a good thing. The way he flirts with women is realistic for a man who gets laid a lot, and absolutely flies in the face of pickup artist BS. He’s vulnerable and emotionally expressive, he makes the women he flirts with feel good about themselves, he’s attentive and considerate, he’s very sensitive to who’s interested and who isn’t. You never see him attempting to overwhelm someone who isn’t interested with persistence -- he flirts with women who are open to it, who are interested in him, and never ever tries to push himself on a woman who’s not interested just because he thinks she’s hot. (Actually, an awful lot of Eliot’s flirting in the show isn’t out of self interest anyways, it’s for the con, a trope you see more often with female characters.)

And having characters who like casual sex is good; especially, having characters with different attitudes towards sleeping around is good. It’s relatively easy for media to swing towards either “everyone loves hookups“ or “the good characters would never have sex if it’s not True Love” (or the ever fascinating hybrid, characters who “would never do something like that” and yet somehow are) but in reality, some people are living their best lives when they have sex with many different people (whether there’s love and commitment involved or not), and some people are living their best lives when they save sex for especially close relationships. A show that has different characters taking different approaches, without judgement? That’s awesome!

So yeah, it feels like Leverage fans are taking something away when they retcon Eliot’s interest in other women as coming from a place of unfilfimnent that would clearly go away immediately if he was just in the right relationship.

Especially since this is a polyamorous ship! While people can do a polyfidelitous thing where nobody in the polycule is dating anyone else, it’s more common for polyamorous people to date other people freely and on a one on one basis. And it’s fairly common for polyamorous people to also be open to casual sex.

Eliot’s got two hands…but he doesn’t have to be holding hands with Parker and Hardison 24/7. He can be madly in love with and deeply fulfilled by Parker and Hardison, and also be interested in dating other people. And, speaking as a polyamorous person, an OT3 where one of the triad is dating other people, does a much better job of representing the polyamory I aspire to than an OT3 where once the former lady’s man finds himself in a relationship, he never looks at another woman again.

(And if you think Eliot can’t date other people and also be fully committed to Parker and Hardison, or that him dating would imply they're the “real” couple and he’s still the third wheel, that’s your baggage to unpack.)

#Anyways it’s fiction and people can write whatever fics or metas they want obviously

[leverage-ot3]

to all the leverage fans out there, I thought I’d throw out some recommendations of other shows that y’all might like

this is completely centered around the lgbt aspects of leverage (how none of the characters are straight, how there is a canon ot3, etc), because I know other people have recommended white collar and stuff but I haven’t personally seen that and I’m just a humble lgbt wanting to share more gay shows with y’all

1. wynonna earp (my sideblog is @angelicearps)

just renewed for a fourth season after two years (this feeling is very familiar to leverage fans)

the first episode of season four aired last night and IM SCREAMING the writers served us a five course meal

the main love story includes waverly earp, a CANON (officially as of 4.01) bisexual girl falling in love with nicole haught, a lesbian cop-turned-sheriff (that’s a slight spoiler, so sorry about that) and both of them are main characters

wynonna earp, another main character, has a complicated relationship with two different men and is not slut shamed for it and is never put down about it

I’m serious- the healthiest and most stable relationship in the show is between waverly and nicole, so wlw nation rise

wynonna and waverly are descendants of the great gunslinger (and demon killer) wyatt earp, who ended up getting a curse on his future generations. the story of the show is centered around wynonna being the chosen heir having to fight demons and try to break the curse for good

doc holiday is another main character- yes, that doc holiday. he’s one of wynonna’s love interests and he has such a pure and loving relationship with waverly. he’d literally die for her and move heaven and hell to make sure she’s safe (that’s literally canon)

jeremy comes in around season two if I remember correctly. canon gay. gets in a relationship with another canon gay character whose name I am blanking on. they are very loving and very pure

literally, in 4.01, when armed military men are breaking into the earp homestead and he doesn’t know what to do, he literally says: “gays only?” lol they didn’t respect that answer

the show has so many good quips and one-liners. so many hilarious lines. it can be an angsty show at times but they definitely balance it out with humor and wlw softness between waverly and nicole

wynonna has a baby in season two and literally calls herself a milf

it also made fans faint because they have been calling nicole “daddy” for like six years and nicole was referred to as daddy three (3) times in 4.01

this show is NOT AFRAID to say things like gay, lesbian, etc. at one point someone tweeted at emily andreas (the writer) asking her to amp up the gay energy and she responded that she would

literally, emily andreas is on the same level as john rogers with trustability and dedication to fans

emily andreas heard of the bury your gays trope and did us one better: unkillible gays trope. the gays are unkillable.

2. motherland: fort salem (my sideblog is @fortsalem)

(HELL YEAH I WAS ONE OF THE FIRST IN THE FANDOM AND I GOT THE HANDS DOWN B E S T URL)

au where during the salem witch trials a witches named sarah alder made an agreement with the government that witches would serve for the us army in exchange for not being systematically hunted down and killed

THIS IS NOT MILITARY PROPAGANDA. sorry, I just had to make this point early on because it’s not even though it might seem like it in the beginning. literally by the end of the season you see it’s very corrupt

since this is an alternate history of the united states, in this universe there are no heteronorms. literally, there’s literally no words for lesbian and bisexual that they use because it’s so normalized and common and accepted that there’s no need for terms like that

the main love story is of star-crossed raelle and scylla. raelle comes from a poor family and is a talented healer, and (this isn’t technically a spoiler because you find out in episode one) scylla is a member of the spree

the spree is a terrorist organization of witches that protests the compliance witches are forced into by having to join the military or die/be imprisoned

scylla is supposed to turn raelle to the “dark side” but falls so deeply in love with her that she can’t do it (THATS TRUE LOVE FOLKS)

the students at fort salem (the military school) are divided into groups of three: the main group being focused on is composed of raelle, tally, and abigail

tally craven is a pure-hearted baby and I’d die for her. she is very idealistic about fighting in the military (but don’t worry that’s fixed by the end of the season)

abigail bell weather comes from a high military family and is kinda really stuck up about it, but she’s humbled a lot by the end of the season. this girl has LAYERS (they all do, but abigail goes through a lot and goes from very stuck up and stuck up the military’s ass to questioning everything she knows)

the trio starts off rocky, especially between raelle and abigail, because raelle blames abigail’s mother for her mother’s death (her mother’s unit was led by abigail’s mother)

the beltane episode literally hits you in the face with how there are literally no heteronorms whatsoever. they do this sacred dance where by the end they will end up with the people they are destined to spend the celebration with (“trust the dance”). raelle makes friends with a gay guy and they spend the celebration making fun of the sex noises around them and become gay friends for life. abigail has sex with two (2) guys who kiss each other. a group of four girls went off together. a group of two girls and a guy went off together. and sex isn’t shamed. at all. in fact, it’s respected as a part of life. and y’all, literally this representation was OFF THE CHARTS

the witch’s most powerful tool is their voice,,, think about that for a minute

it’s an all girls school so there are like no guys whatsoever minus the beltane episode and a couple others

EMPOWERED WOMEN (of all ages and ethnicities too)

3. siren (my sideblog is @polymarinelove)

imma start off by saying that season three doesn’t exist. don’t watch season three. don’t do it. the disappointment is real

ANYWAYS

the central love story is between an interracial couple (a white guy and his black girlfriend that has a native american stepfather) that turns into a loving polyamorous relationship

maddie, the girlfriend, is amazing and incredibly smart and the first two seasons (and the beginning of the third) accentuate that and they never downplay her because she’s a black woman like many shows and movies do. she’s a smart stem woman and we stan her so hard. she’s also bisexual.

ben, the guy, comes from a rich family that are basically the hotshots of the town and own the fishing company that the community works for. his dad is hella untrustable. ben doesn’t trust him and neither should you. he is kindhearted and smart and respectful, and at one point teaches a merman about consent after being kissed by him (and he didn’t even #nohomo it which was AMAZING)

now to the mermaids

mermaids are apex predators. they are very dangerous. they are very strong. they’re also wickedly smart, canon smarter than humans

the story begins when donna, ryn’s sister, is captured by a fishing boat and carted off to a military facility. ryn comes to land to try to find and save her. (she literally choses her name because she sees a character on a kid’s tv show saying “I am ryn” which is also the first thing in english that she can say)

she ends up being helped by ben and maddie and legit is like these humans are hot imma learn english for them

there’s a lot of really cool and thought out lore as well as TONS of thoughtful marine biology science that makes sense

oh and transforming from mermaid to human? painful as FUCK. realistic depictions of having your body literally transform into something else

humans are wrecking the oceans and that’s a heavy theme of the show

oil rigs are poisoning the water (making them infertile) and killing mermaids with their sonic drilling

so ben and maddie lowkey commit an act of ecoterrorism but it’s chill

“ben and maddie are love” they’re poly, bitches

they come together in a natural, organic way

very healthy and communicative

ben’s alright but ryn and maddie are amazing

don’t watch season three if you don’t want to be majorly disappointed. the writers listened to the homophobic trolls on instagram and broke up the polyamorous relationship and I’ll NEVER forgive them for that. seasons one and two are amazing though. just don’t watch the third one.

#leverage ot3 #leverage #reccommendations #my recs #siren #siren freeform #motherland fort salem #fort salem #wynonna earp #mine

[jyndor]

(Imperialism etc anon) Ok I get where you're coming from! Thank you for being understanding. While Zutara is obviously not inherently racist or anything there are zutara interpretations that *are* racist (example: fire lady katara which I can get into) and it does need to be acknowledged that Zuko's status as fire nation royalty does create a power imbalance between him and Katara. Now, this is a conversation that has a lot of nuance to it but it seems like the people harassing you are (1/2)

(2/2) just repeating some genuine critique they saw without understanding what it means just to say that they're right, harassing people in the process. I did not have that context when sending that first ask and I apologize, since anons harassing you and others are clearly doing it out of bad faith. I just didn't like the leveraging of concepts that really matter in real life (colonialism, etc), ykwim? But I get what you were trying to do.

hey anon I’m finally getting to you after 84 years XD

so first off, I want to be careful about how I approach this because I understand that as a white person (even if my ancestors experienced imperialism) in the US I absolutely benefit from imperialism and don’t want to like, idk, whitesplain XD so if anyone gets annoyed with any way I say anything, just lmk and I’ll rework it. and I also do understand that these are real world issues that are far more consequential than messaging in media (although I do think it’s very important that we challenge messages in media because of media’s influence on our thinking and politics).

but before I talk about zuko and his relationship to fire nation imperialism, and then later fire lady katara and why it isn’t INHERENTLY racist but definitely can be, I want to talk about the atla fandom and how we got here. like, why I assume that most anons who come at zutara shippers are asshats acting in bad faith. if you already know fandom history, skip this section.

1. atla and the fandom has always been kind of shitty and racist

so IDK if everyone is familiar with the history of the ship war in atla fandom, but it’s regarded as one of the nastiest ship wars in fandom history which I agree lol. atla’s creators were some of the first to interact with the fandom the way they did - back then it wasn’t all that common for creators to get into twitter feuds with fans and boundaries were respected more than they are now imo. but for better or worse, and it is a mixed bag, bryke interacted with fandom a lot. certainly at cons but also on social media.

but honestly things really got extra mean in fan spaces when bryke made a “joke” atla season 4 slideshow out of fan art (some of which was really sexual in nature and totally inappropriate) that mocked fans’ creations, but especially zutara fanart and zutara itself. it was pretty tasteless especially considering how most zutara fans were teen girls, and featured some art of sokka saying that if you think zuko and katara would be good together, you’re doomed to have failed relationships. that’s where the whole “dark and mysterious” bs came from, which does describe some zutara fic but not even most of it lol. I actually do respect bryke a lot despite my criticism of them, but I don’t think I’ll ever get over that shit. like even if you hate zutara, even if it’s a joke, we were kids. and they were adults, and the whole thing was nasty.

however, the ship war was chaotic and messy, but it does feel worse now. maybe it’s because back then the fandom was MOSTLY teens and kids, and I don’t think that’s true now. we were all trying to prove our ship was best with like, content from the show and theories and all that, and now it’s like... whose ship is ~problematic lol it’s a show by white us americans appropriating from various cultures impacted negatively by us/british imperialism that they then profited off of, of course it’s racist. that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t talk about that, and in fact many poc have been saying this shit for years - that atla is racist and colorist at many times (guru pathik anyone?) and no one really listened.

if fans are complaining only about zutara, then I’m automatically writing them off as being insincere or ignorant. and since most of these people are anonymous, I have no idea if they are having substantive discourse about colorism in avatar or cultural appropriation (even if it is mostly appreciative). if you are on anon, I have no context about what you actually think except for what you give me. and that definitely is how I view anons in general but especially within the atla fandom because for all 13-ish years I’ve been in it, it’s been messy. that’s why zutara fans have isolated ourselves from the rest of fandom, because the rest of fandom has been really nasty to us. like did we give back some nastiness? absolutely.

but I would hazard a guess that most anti-zutara shippers don’t know about the conversations we have had in this community to make it safer for people of color, conversations that centered poc and woc especially. hey, that’s okay - not to compare zutara to r*ylo because eurgh but like, idk what discourse the r*ylos have about their community. no idea, I don’t go looking for it. and I don’t go to the tags and harass r*ylos - even though they harass the fuck out of everyone else.

2. so zuko and his privilege

undoubtedly zuko as fire lord is in a fairly privileged position LMFAO. but during the show zuko is very clearly exiled - he holds very little political power in the fire nation EXCEPT for during the first season when he is in command of a ship that ozai gave him on a punishment quest lol like yeah he does terrible things and he of all people would not excuse his actions even if he was a traumatized kid, that’s the point of his arc - that he got some exposure to the rest of the world and worked to be better. and the only reason he was exiled at all was because he cares about people - he didn’t question fire nation supremacy at 13, but he sure did question the morality of his people being lead to slaughter.

but after zuko and iroh defect from the fire nation and stop hunting aang, he has next to no power, in any kind of way. like the guy is a political refugee. and yes, he goes back to the fire nation for like five minutes before realizing that he hates everything about fire nation hegemony and that he wants to end his father’s reign of terror, like that isn’t exactly someone who is going to be well esteemed by the powerful elites when he returns and takes the throne.

and I disregard the comics because they suck lol but zuko does have power as the fire lord, but he limits his power. like compared to ozai, phoenix asshole? azula? for the rest of the world, zuko is kind of an ideal leader for a former colonizing/imperialistic nation to have - someone who worked to end that tyranny, who is anti-imperialist, who believes in justice and equality, who wants to make things right for the peoples who his family oppressed.

I do think it is important to talk about power dynamics and imbalances in relationships - for instance, one could argue that mai is at a significant disadvantage in her relationship with zuko. sure she is from a powerful family but not as powerful as zuko’s. sokka? hah forget it. he’s just as disadvantaged as katara is politically speaking. toph? well, she’s definitely not as powerful politically as zuko - her family tried to silence her for years because of her disability. and oh, she’s disabled so it might be ableist for zuko to strike up a relationship with her when they’re both adults. forgetting of course that toph and sokka and katara and suki and mai are not going to be shy about their wants and needs, that these relationships are not likely to be coercive by nature of the show they’re in and the characters they involve. this is not bill clinton with monica creepiness. like, you’d have to write the relationship that way.

the only person who arguably has more political power than zuko is aang. I guess zuko can’t ever be in a relationship with anyone other than aang. and zuko’s family massacred aang’s people so I guess we can’t ship zukaang. now I know you’re not saying that, context matters. power dynamics are important. but you can’t take away the agency of characters - katara, who is essentially a princess, has agency and can choose who she wants to be with. strictly speaking, aang is more powerful than anyone in terms of political power - he’s the avatar - and of course the dynamic is different by nature of aang not being from a line of oppressors, but there still is a power imbalance in their relationship. and I don’t know how many k/ataang shippers have discourse~ on that. not that I really feel like they NEED to, um idk what they talk about lol I’m not in those circles.

3. fire lady katara is in the eye of the beholder

so fire lady katara is not inherently bad or racist, it’s essentially like saying michelle obama shouldn’t have been first lady of the us (now I get that like the obamas being in power didn’t mean black people are not marginalized lol). you can have conversations about whether or not individual versions of fire lady katara are fucked up, and I’m superrrr open to that because I’ve seen it be kinda shitty before. i’m just gonna leave this link to @shewhotellsstories and her post on this.

but often times katara as fire lady is very dominant in global/fire nation/water tribe politics, she’s a game changer ambassador (that is probably the most popular headcanon I see), she holds on to her culture (and many fans have designed her being in her wt colors, zuko is respectful af to her, she and zuko spend extended periods in the swt, etc. like... it just depends on the way it’s written.

also leaving this response by @avatarnerdkiller to the idea of katara being a prize figurehead.

anyway, thanks for your patience anon and I am curious to see if you see this or even feel like responding after all this time XD

#atla #petty fandom drama #zutara fandom #zutara #fire lady katara #discourse sigh #racism #fandom racism #asks #anonymous

[pastelsapphy]

Why does Sylvian hates himself?

(This ended up being really long whoops)

*cracks knuckles* time to talk about my boy

[All quotes taken from the Fire Emblem Fandom Wiki, so there may be some slight inaccuracies]

Okay so first off Sylvain grew up in a shitty environment, to say the absolute least, and that fucks with your head.

First: his brother. He attempted to kill Sylvain on multiple occasions as kids because Sylvain had a Crest. And Sylvain just like, accepts that??? You can see that a lot in his A support with Byleth. He talked about being shoved in a well and being left on a mountain in winter by his brother, and almost immediately followed up with “I have no right to complain” because he, in theory, got lucky: he got the Crest.

And you figure, he would’ve grown up apologizing and made to feel guilty just for existing. You can see in his dialogue against Miklan, in chapter five:

Miklan: Hmph! Hurry up and die already. If not for you… If it hadn’t been for you…

Sylvain: Shut up! I’m so tired of hearing that. You’ve always blamed me for something that isn’t my fault.

He’s definitely been saying that since they were kids. That kinda stuff really fucks with your sense of self-worth after a while.

Then we have the rest of his family. We don’t hear anything about his mother, or much about his father, but we can infer some things about the latter: Margrave Gautier disowned, abandoned, and cast aside his first son in favor of the one with a Crest. Considering the dialogue about “everything being taken away” from Miklan, it’s possible that he was being raised to be the next Margrave, because someone had to inherit–with Crests becoming less common, who knows how long it would’ve taken to get a kid with one, if they got one at all? They needed a backup plan. And then Sylvain came along, with the minor Crest of Gautier, and suddenly Miklan didn’t exist. That’s fucked up, and it shows how little Margrave Gautier cared about his kids. I honestly doubt he showed Sylvain any kind of affection or attention growing up, and probably only interacted with him for inheritance- and Crest-related reasons. To him, Sylvain was a walking Crest, not a person (Sylvain’s fear of people only ever wanting him for his Crest, and not as a person in any respect, had to come from somewhere).

(And, if I can add a bit of an aside, I feel like this is the root of his philandering. Makes me think of the whole “even negative attention is better than nothing” kinda thing. You figure, Little Sylvain would have been incredibly touch-starved and desperate for attention. Humans are a social species and we literally need attention and affection to live well. I mean, he flirted with Ingrid’s grandmother when he was eight. I can only imagine what he said/did if Ingrid remembered it, considering she would have been five or six at the time. And kids that young don’t really know any better yet. Poor kid probably just wanted attention.)

(Additional aside that came to mind while writing this: I wonder if seeing the arrangement between Ingrid and Glenn affected this at all? Like yeah marriages in that kind of setting were purely political and such, but Ingrid was engaged to Glenn because (a) House Fraldarius was a powerful, well-to-do noble family and House Galatea really needed the resources, and (b) Ingrid was desirable as a wife because she had a Crest. Of course, we don’t know the exact circumstances of the arrangement, but we can infer from her other prospects. Sylvain still would have essentially seen Ingrid being used for leverage because of her Crest.)

So long before the events of the game, Sylvain is already pretty fucked up, emotionally. Trauma does that to you, especially when you have an “everyone else has it worse and I, actually, got lucky, so it doesn’t count and I’m not allowed to feel bad about it” complex. Survivor’s guilt is a hell of a drug lemme tell you. Sylvain has already internalized that,

He’s only good for his Crest

Any negative feelings about his Crest don’t matter, because those without have it worse.

No one will ever truly see him as a person–he’s just a Crest.

Already, that’s a pretty fucked up view of oneself.

By the time he gets to Garreg Mach, he has a carefully crafted persona set up: He’s an asshole, a liar, a serial flirt and cheater, dumb as a box of rocks, and a self-proclaimed “good-for-nothing.” In his B support with Dedue, you hear that people describe him as “indefensibly worthless,” which is followed by,

Sylvain: Indefensibly? Heh, that’s a bit harsh.

Dedue: I already knew your reputation concerning women. But these new rumors deprive you of all redemption. I did try to correct them. But I doubt I was believed.

Sylvain: Well, thank you all the same. Listen. You don’t need to worry what people think about me. As you well know, it’s not easy to correct misunderstandings or change people’s minds. And if I’m going to behave so badly, it seems misunderstandings are inevitable.

He doesn’t even argue, just kinda brushes it off and accepts that’s just How He Is (listen, Sylvain can definitely be an asshole at times, but I have to agree with that being harsh). He doesn’t want people to expect anything from him (well, not anything good). In his supports with Annette, he’s shown to be pretty smart, but admits he hides it because the pressure it puts on him is suffocating. He kinda goes out of his way to hide his more redeeming qualities like that. Also on that point, we have this bit from his B support with Ashe,

Sylvain: […] My advice on the whole thing is just to follow your instincts. That’s what I do. If someone’s in trouble, I help them. You don’t need to be a valiant knight to know that. Doesn’t matter if the person is an ugly old man or the cutest girl you’ve ever seen, you help ‘em.

Ashe: So, you’re saying…

Sylvain: Everybody’s the same, deep down. It’s our job to help anyone who needs it.

Ashe: Ah!

Sylvain: What? You’re looking at me funny. Did I say something wrong?

Ashe: No! No. I’m just surprised, that’s all. You’re actually a much better person than I thought.

“You’re actually a much better person than I thought.” Several of his supports have some variation of this line. Usually after he does something kind. And I mean, Sylvain is a kind person, under the philandering. Most of his supports involve him helping others out somehow.

He helps Dimitri with the girl situation (he kinda got him into it in the first place but I digress)

His whole C with Dedue is pretty much “racism is stupid and I’m going to be your friend, fuck what everyone else says.”

In his supports with Felix and Ashe, he helps them out in battle, at a detriment to himself (You can also throw Byleth in here, during their A support, but he was a jerk in their C and B).

In his Annette supports, she calls him out for going easy on her during training. He admits he was, but only because he didn’t want her to feel bad because she puts so much effort into her work while he “sorta gets by on [his] wits”

Okay I need to say how much I love his supports with Bernadetta???? He does genuinely try to compliment her work, and when he sees speaking to Bernie face-to-face won’t work, he goes out of his way to write a nice and well-worded review (a fairly lengthy one, according to Bernie) and compliment of her work–which Bernadetta takes to much better than she did talking in person. And this is one of the few supports where he doesn’t try to flirt. He’s just trying to give her genuine compliments on her writing and goes out of his way to do it without upsetting her.

His support with Hilda could go a few ways, but he did return the books for her and he did apparently get yelled at for something he didn’t do and didn’t even try to deflect that. And it seems that’s not even why he confronts her later: it’s because of how her actions were detrimental to other people (”And those books you left in your room for so long? Teachers and classmates needed those. So stop lying, and maybe stop being quite as selfish too.”). It’s not until she asks if the librarian said anything that he’s like “Oh, yeah, they yelled at me.”

And a fair amount of people still see him as “indefensibly worthless.” Sylvain often goes out of his way to help people, but he tends to brush it off and keep it lowkey.

I got a little off track here, but my point for this is Sylvain projects an outward appearance of being a really shitty, deplorable person. Almost everyone he has supports with is GENUINELY surprised when they realize that no, he’s not as bad as all the rumors about him imply. Sylvain just doesn’t really want people to know. And, as much as he plays it off like he doesn’t care, that kind thing gets to you after a while. So everyone except a handful of close friends seeing him in such a negative light? It filters in eventually, even if you’re not already emotionally fucked up.

Another thing I want to point out: A lot of times, it seems like Sylvain does not give a shit about what happens to him. A few of his support conversations involve him taking a blow in battle to protect someone else (and his attitude afterward is “better me than them”). Reading his A+ with Felix, “…protecting me like that. You’re so weak and yet you always… always…” this is definitely something Sylvain has a habit of doing. Additionally, we have one of his goal requests: “The best way to impress people is to save them by diving into harm’s way. That’s what a Great Knight does, yeah?” In true Sylvain style he covers it with “I just want to impress people” but he’s still devoting his training to being the guy who jumps in front of everyone else to tank the hit. Fully committing to that kind of thing takes more than just a shallow want to “impress people.” Then there’s his Monastery line to Byleth, toward the end of Verdant Wind I believe?, where he says he fights like he wants to die. Which…. yeah.

Another line of his that sticks with me: “burn until we meet again,” after defeating an enemy post-time skip. A friend of mine pointed out it might just be dramatic, but I think about that a lot. Does he think he’s going to the 3h equivalent of hell??? Does he think he’s that terrible of a person??

Uh this turned out to be a lot longer than i thought. So I guess to sum up:

Sylvain grew up internalizing the idea that he doesn’t have any worth as a person. Everything he is and has is related to his Crest. Everything that people feel towards him is related to his Crest and not who he is as a person.

He internalized the idea that because he has a Crest, that he’s not allowed to be upset about any of this, because he got lucky.

Growing up with Miklan’s abuse, he was definitely made to feel guilty about simply daring to exist. So he grows up hating himself.

He developed an outward persona that only reinforced these ideas–he makes and lets people believe he’s a piece of shit.

His attitude in battle shows how little he seems to care about himself.

tl;dr: Sylvain grew up without any love or affection, and was severely emotionally fucked up by his family, which complicated his relationships with other people and his view of himself as a person and his worth. He purposely projected an image of himself to support this, letting people believe he’s a shit person and doesn’t argue back because he feels it’s well-deserved. He doesn’t seem to think he’s actually worth anything. Sylvain, of course, like all people, has negative traits–that’s just part of being human. But his sense of self has been so warped and twisted over the years that he can’t seem to do anything but hate himself.

#fire emblem three houses #sylvain jose gautier #sylvain gautier #fe sylvain #fire emblem sylvain #three houses #fire emblem three houses spoilers #fe16 spoilers #three houses spoilers #fe16 #feth #fe three houses #asks #anon #mine #long post #i have a lot of feelings about sylvain okay #abuse mention #abuse mention cw

[peachfluffsoftstuff]

Beyond The Reef [1]

Content: Soft Vore, G/T Vore, Unwilling Prey, Shark Mer Pred, Eventual Safe Vore Reveal

Word Count: 2230

Fandom: N/A; Original Content

A/N: An older piece, but I’m still fond of it!! I have a few more chapters already written, too. I promise it gets fluffier.

-

Aless pressed himself flat against the rockbed, listening as the reef went quiet around him at the sight of two predators passing through. Neither of them seemed to notice, probably used to the attention, and were talking in low voices that still clearly travelled to all the smaller folk in the area, him included. 

He watched in half-stunned awe as the giant mers passed his hiding spot, neither noticing his tiny body camouflaged against the plant life. What a chance encounter… He was suddenly glad he had decided to venture out alone again today, watching them glide along with an unassuming steadiness to their pace. 

They continued their discussion as they moved, and despite, or maybe because of the danger, Aless darted after them, eavesdropping as he swam through concealing nooks and crannies. 

The one currently talking was seemingly younger, with wild dark hair flowing around a face with bright eyes. He had olive skin with dark grey scales scattered in patches around his fins. His tail was a lighter blue-gray, tipped with black, marking him as a reef shark breed of mer. Unlike stories Aless had heard, there was no constant anger in his eyes, but rather, crinkles around the corners that looked an awful lot like smile lines. 

At the moment however, he wore an expression of tentative concern as he frowned at his companion. 

“...I don't know Dev, doesn't it seem kind of harsh? Maybe there's some other way to find one, no need to-”

“Skim,” the other mer cut him off, and Aless wondered at that too. The older and, apparently, leader of the two had similar dark hair, though much tamer, and his tail was the deep mottled grey of a tiger shark. “I understand your concern, but this is the way it's been done for ages. There’s no need to make waves, it’ll work out alright. It always does. You’ll understand when it happens. Trust me.” He offered the smaller a slight smile.

The other mer-- Skim, allegedly-- seemed to droop slightly as he sighed, returning a weak smile and seemingly finally resigned to whatever it was they were talking about. Aless tilted his head, wondering for only a moment or two, before becoming distracted by the familiar surroundings. This… was the route to Hali Reef that the two were taking. 

Aless knew because he had just come from that very direction, hoping to avoid more harassment from the other teens his age. Nevi, at least, didn't try to draw attention to him, but it could only do so much when one’s been the whole village’s scapegoat for so long. 

What would two giant mers be doing in such a small mountain reef? Aless moved faster, an uneasy pit in his stomach, old folk tales suddenly springing to mind. These were still predators, after all.  

Soon, they came upon the opening into the underwater village, which looked uncomfortably recently abandoned. Aless could tell they hadn’t had much time to lock down and hide, and felt a little guilty for not immediately swimming ahead to warn them. 

Though, if the giant mers hadn’t come through and he’d raised a false alarm... Well, he caught enough flack from the townsfolk already without ‘attention seeker’ being added to the list. 

There was a tense pause, before Dev cleared his throat pointedly, much to Skim’s dismay. 

“You mean I really have to--?” Dev gave him a quelling look, and he sighed uncomfortably again but turned to the nearest patch of seagrass and reached out with one hand, slowly picking through it. Aless’s sense of horror mounted as he spotted a flash of silver amidst the waving plants. The only one in the village with those distinct glinting silver scales… was Nevi. 

Skim seemed to have spotted it as well, going by the way he was indecisively hovering his hand closer. Aless watched, his whole body tense with anxiety. In an instant, he saw as Nevi’s self-restraint broke, and she darted out of the plants and away like quicksilver. 

Unfortunately, Skim was even faster, slamming his hands together over her so quickly it seemed like it had been only his reflexes that caught her. He seemed to feel the same way as he looked between the prison his cupped hands had made and the other giant mer, who was looking expectantly at him. 

Hesitantly, he closed his hands together and used the position as leverage to hold the girl by pinching two fingers securely around Nevi’s muscled waist. She looked small compared to him, barely the size of his hand. 

“Why isn’t anyone helping her,” Aless murmured to himself, though deep down he already knew. She was the strongest and second-fastest one in the entire village. If she couldn’t get free, nobody could save her. 

Not without risking life and limb, with no chance of success. Aless reached for the carved dagger tied at his hip. 

Nevi was thrashing in Skim’s hold, gills and frills flaring, lashing out with enough force to break something vital in a mer her size, but only making Skim take on an expression like a kicked guppy. He started to lift her closer to his face, and a dismayed note of alarm wailed in Aless’s mind. He was moving before he could even think twice, shooting across the open water as quickly as his fins would propel him. 

He used his momentum to drive his small dagger into Skim's finger, hard enough to stick. Skim yelped at the unexpected pain and pulled his injured hand back to his chest, releasing Nevi. In the same motion, like clockwork, Aless was dragged along, the drag causing him to collide with the back of the hand he’d attacked. 

Before he could reorient himself, Skim’s other hand weighed down on him, leaving him sandwiched between the two, just as trapped as Nevi had been. 

“Aless!”

Unable to do anything about his position, he floundered for a moment, before managing to meet Nevi’s eyes. She had twisted to look at his predicament, caught in indecision, but there were two predators there and only one’s hands were occupied with him. 

“Go!” He shouted, harsh enough a command that she jerked and darted away, still stuck in the fight or flight mindset. It was a good thing he was probably about to die because otherwise she would have kicked his ass later for yelling at her like that.

He got only a moment to watch her vanish back into the reef in a flash of silver before the warm skin around him moved, one hand moving down to grasp his tail between finger and thumb. As soon as his bottom half was securely snagged, he was pulled back to look at his captor. His orientation shifted as the hold tugged him from the bottom end, leaving him hanging upside down. 

Despite the instinctual panic edging his mind, he didn't try to escape, common sense dismissing it as a fruitless effort. If nobody was brave enough to try and free Nevi, everyone’s darling, from Skim’s grip, then there was no way Aless, the local bastard, would be getting any semblance of help at all. Seeing as Nevi’s considerable strength hadn’t done anything for her, he wouldn't be able to make a getaway on his own, either. 

Still, he refused to cower or beg, glaring at Skim as he was dangled upside down in front of him. The mer was nursing his injured thumb, pulling the tooth dagger out of his skin with his teeth and spitting it into the open water. Aless watched somewhat mournfully as it sank down to the ocean floor below. That had taken him ages to find and fix up into a proper weapon. 

“At least it’s not deep...” 

Looking back up, Aless automatically flailed as he was dragged by the tail to in front of the giant’s face, and he stared at the big features, resisting the urge to reach out and touch the tip of that lightly freckled nose. It was close enough that Skim went cross eyed trying to keep looking at him, defeating the whole purpose of closer scrutiny. Aless stubbornly crossed his arms to keep from pinwheeling them, ignoring the way his fluttering gills and fins gave away his fear despite his best efforts. 

He expected Skim to pull back and send a desperate look to Dev yet again, but instead his expression was strangely dazed, his glowing irises near eclipsed by expanding pupils, gaze fixed on Aless with a strange intensity that sent a chill down his spine. He absently chewed on his bottom lip with sharp-looking teeth, and then slowly lifted Aless up above his head, looking up to keep him in view. 

Aless was only kept in the dark about his intentions for a second or two, before Skim made them very clear by opening his mouth, displaying rows of triangular white teeth framing a fleshy gullet.

“Ah,” Aless said, softly. 

At least Nevi wasn't in his place. At least they’d all know what happened to him. At least nobody would miss him too much. His chest jolted up in hiccups as his breathing started to speed up unsteadily. 

As if in spite of its inevitable end, his heartbeat was pounding a frighteningly quick tempo as he was lowered into the gaping maw, the prehensile tongue stretching out to receive him. He numbly watched as his head passed under the stacked rows of teeth, aligned neatly to tear prey apart. The rough muscle at his back was the only thing cushioning him from being skewered on the lower teeth. 

Abruptly, his surroundings went dark, Skim’s lips sealed around his torso cutting out all the outside light. His hands rose to push against the hard palate above him automatically, as if he could somehow keep the mouth from closing further. He felt the pressure from the fingers holding his tail vanish, apparently satisfied with his current level of immobility. He didn't try to move, too aware of the fangs barely scraping his stomach like a threat. 

The seconds stretched, and Aless was certain that any moment, the jaws would snap shut on his spine, interlocking and slicing him clean in half. The blood would be a mess. Distantly, he hoped that none of the children in the reef were watching. 

His grim predictions were interrupted by a pulling sensation on his skin, and he yelped as more of him was suddenly suctioned into the dark, enclosed space. More than ever, Aless could feel the difference between the warm, cloying atmosphere in the giant mouth and the cool ocean water brushing past his tail fin, which was still peeking out between Skim’s lips, twitching weakly. 

The top of his head gently bumped into something solid, and when he reached out with one hand to investigate, the smooth flesh of the throat rippled under his touch. He jerked away, seized by a primal urge to get out get out get out get out-- but at his squirming, the tongue beneath him rose up and pinned him against the ridged roof of the mouth, knocking the wind out of him. 

He was stunned for a moment, splayed out with his arms flung above his head. Then, there was another pull, an uncanny tug on his whole body accompanied by a thick sound, and his arms were suddenly surrounded on all sides by the same smooth, slippery muscle. He drew in breath to yell, terrified, and with the sound of another heavy swallow, found his entire head and chest stuck in the same constricting tube. Even as he tried to wriggle free, he could feel the rough tongue on the scales of his tail, tasting him, and he shuddered, squirming as the esophagus contracted and pulled in more of him. 

He only had a moment to think ‘I can't breathe’ before the final thick swallow resounded in his ears, peristalsis locking him in place and tugging him downwards. His smooth fish half went down easier, one gulp enough to tug the whole thing down, fins and all. Locked completely in the slick tube with barely enough room to twitch, Aless focused on trying to bring in oxygen from the meager water trapped with him. Everything pulsed around him, loud and overwhelming.

Just as the edges of his vision began to darken, his hands were released from the complete peristalsis, and the rest of him soon followed, sliding into a slick pouch full of warm seawater, contracting and relaxing rhythmically at his arrival. It was larger than where he’d been before, but filled quickly, his tail coiling and twisting in the meager space.   

After gasping in enough air to function, Aless looked around at the pitch dark space with growing despair, and began to run his hands along the stomach walls, desperately searching for some kind of exit. He found only smooth flesh under his fingers, and a rumbling purr started up above him, making him yank his hands away angrily. That giant bastard was enjoying this. 

As quickly as his temper had flared up, it died away, and he slumped against the soft folds of flesh around him. Of course Skim was enjoying this. In every way, he’d acted as the predator that shark mers were rumored to be. 

Aless was nothing more than a meal now, tucked out of sight and out of mind.

#Soft Vore #Safe Vore #Mermaid Vore #Extreme Cuddling #G/T Vore #Unwilling #Mermaid #Vore Writing #Vore Story #Original Characters #Beyond The Reef #Peach Writes #OC: Skim #OC: Aless #OC: Nevi #What sharp teeth queue have!

[scarletaire]

homeland (Chapter 1)

A/N: Welcome to my very first multi-chaptered fic! Would love to know what you think ❤️

Fandom: The Folk of the Air

Genre/s: Contains Fluff, Slight Hurt/Comfort, Slight Angst, Smut

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Post-QON, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Protective!Cardan, Bewildered!Jude, Jude and Cardan discuss the Undersea, but they get a little Distracted

Description: 

Cardan’s eyes flash open.

“Why?” he repeats, and Jude feels the power shift between them. “Don’t you remember, wife?” he croons. “It was the Undersea who stole you away from me.” 

And Jude has only enough time to think, danger, before he lunges at her.

or:

Cardan and Jude work on removing their armor. Taking off this particularly stubborn piece happens in varying states of undress.

Links: Masterlist | AO3 

Jude wakes at the brush of Cardan’s tail against the back of her knee. 

It tickles more than anything, and it’s this that shoves her into wakefulness. Growing up as a human in Faerie has not afforded Jude the luxury of graceful sleep. She comes into consciousness like a soldier, eyes open wide and trying to make sense of her surroundings. 

Cardan watches her from the far side of the bed. 

Jude furrows her brows. The sun is low in the sky, and it casts their room into burnished amber. It lines the angles of Cardan’s face with gold and shadow, and with the length of his body reposed before her, he is unearthly. Untouchable. She thinks she could still be dreaming right now.

Until she notices the distant look in his eyes.

She peers past the drowsy haze of sunset, taking in the way his tail lashes low and distracted across his body. He probably hadn’t meant to wake her from the looks of it. His tail often moves with a mind of its own. 

She stretches out a hand across the space between them, the sheets of their bed cool and empty against the backs of her fingers. “Cardan?” 

They had gone to sleep as they usually did, curled together and limbs tangled. It was the common way things were after they began sharing their marriage bed in earnest months ago. 

This is new. 

“Jude,” he says in reply, and in his voice, she hears something she doesn’t understand. 

It strikes in her an unfamiliar urge to soothe. It’s a human thing, one that she hasn’t had reason to attend to while being raised in a redcap’s stronghold. She’s not quite sure what caused it, what it was in the way he whispered her name. All she knows is that it makes her want to shift closer. 

Cardan has an unnerving ability to bring out the human in her, despite her best efforts, despite her being High Queen of Elfhame. 

She reaches out a hand, and he – unearthly, untouchable – lets her brush a knuckle across his cheek. She waits. 

He says nothing. 

Undeterred, she tries to brush a curl of ink black hair away from his eyes. They burn. 

She pauses. 

He is holding himself preternaturally quiet, and still. So still, the way only fae can. An animal sort of stillness, she thinks. 

Within the next heartbeat, Jude understands that gentle is not what Cardan needs right now. 

Alright. This she knows how to do. 

Her fingers, previously resting at his temple, move to tangle in his hair. She pulls hard enough to make him hiss. “What is it?” She tightens her hold. “What happened?” 

His black gem eyes go clear with pain – and something else. Something darker. “A nightmare,” he breathes, finally.

She narrows her eyes, thinking about the tense line of his shoulders.

When he doesn’t elaborate, she slips a little bit closer. For better leverage. He tracks her movement across the bed. 

From this distance, her nails rake a path down his temple and the side of his face. She digs her fingers in when she reaches his jawline, feels the way he clenches it in response. “Tell me.” 

Something cruel pulls the corner of his mouth upward. “You shall like very little of it.” 

He smiles when he’s nervous, Jude reminds herself. 

She leans in close enough to see how the skin of his jaw is going white against the half-moons of her nails. “Tell me anyway.” 

His eyes close. She thinks she sees a little of defeat in the way he leans into the rough grip of her fingers. “I dreamt,” he whispers into the waiting air, “of the Undersea.” And even in the warmth of the bed they share together, something cold slithers up Jude’s spine. 

“Why?” she demands, before she can think better of it.

They haven’t talked much about her kidnapping. He’d almost forsaken his kingdom in exchange for her, and that was more than her heart, then so unsure and betrayed by her exile, could understand. 

But now, there is space to wonder. 

(“When you were gone—truly gone beneath the waves—I hated myself as I never have before.”)

Cardan’s eyes flash open. “Why?” he repeats, and Jude feels the power shift between them. “Don’t you remember, wife?” he croons. “It was the Undersea that stole you away from me.” 

And Jude has only enough time to think, danger, before he – 

– lunges at her – 

Jude’s back hits the bed with a thud, and Cardan leans on his elbows over her, the unforgiving weight of him pressing her into the mattress. This time, it is his hand that grips her chin, the raw emotion in his dark eyes at odds with the careful way he tilts her face up to his. “They hid you away for weeks.”

“I clawed my way out of there,” she says, a little breathlessly. “I didn’t let them keep me.” 

The slant of his mouth grows crueller. “Darling, I had to forge a treaty for you.” 

Indignation sparks in her, at the reminder of her weakness. “I didn’t ask you to – ”

Cardan swoops in, and Jude holds her breath as his lips come perilously close to hers. “Do not mishear me, Jude Duarte Greenbriar,” he says softly, so softly. “I would have done anything to get you back.” 

Jude sucks in another breath, because Cardan has suddenly dropped his mouth to the tender skin of her neck. 

“Anything,” he says, and his lips ghost the words behind her ear as he speaks. “Everything.” 

It’s instinct that has her spreading her legs, letting the weight of him make a home in the cradle of her thighs. He settles against her body like he belongs there. 

“Do you understand that, Jude?” he asks. “Can you?” 

He presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss at the base of her throat, and Jude wonders at how something so small can be felt all the way down to her toes. 

Still, his words have dredged up memories she thought were long past. They are vivid in her mind now: the dampness of the dark cell, the ache of her exhausted body, the cold brush of Balekin’s lips – 

“They did all that they could,” she says, because suddenly it’s like she has something to prove, “but I did not let them break me.” 

Cardan tenses, his forehead resting on the softness of her cheek. 

“Don’t you remember?” she asks him now. “I came for you the very same night they released me.” 

Something passes over the length of his body, and pressed against him so closely like this, Jude can recognize it for what it is: a shudder.

“Oh, Jude,” he breathes into the line of her jaw. “I dreamt that you didn’t.” 

What had he said? A nightmare. 

“There was nothing left of you to ransom for,” he continues, face hidden in the crook of her neck. “Nothing but salt and seafoam.” And there, in their ridiculously large bed with the cobweb canopy billowing in a sunset breeze, the High King of Elfhame begins to tremble.

Jude is frozen underneath him. “Cardan,” she whispers, because there is nothing else she can say. No one that she can remember has ever cared for her like this before. 

Another shudder passes through him at the sound of his name. And suddenly, he is moving closer, something like desperation igniting the insistent press of his body over hers as he tries to burrow his face deeper into her collarbone. 

“I dove into the water,” he says, and she feels every word dance on the sensitive skin of her neck, “and it was cold and it was dark, but I swam and I searched, and I couldn’t find you.” His hands fist into the gossamer skirts of her nightgown. 

Jude grits her teeth. She is powerless in the wake of his heartache. She doesn’t know what to do. This is an enemy she has never faced before. 

“I would have done everything,” he repeats, lost. She gets the feeling that he isn’t speaking entirely just to her anymore. 

In this liminal space between waking and dreaming, Cardan duels with the imaginary horrors of his nightmare, and Jude holds on as tight as she can. 

The rocking starts with the intention to soothe. Jude thinks of Oriana, calming a restless Oak in the cradle of her arms. She thinks of her mother, wrapping her in an embrace that swept her back and forth. She thinks of Cardan’s mother, Lady Asha, and how she most likely never held her son the way mothers do. 

So Jude begins to sway, as best as she can with the weight of him all along the front of her body. There is so much of him to hold, almost too much because he is so much bigger than her, but she will hold him. She will hold all of him until he no longer needs her. 

A different kind of tremor passes through Cardan’s body when he feels her moving under him. She runs a hand through the hair at the base of his neck, gently scraping with the tips of her nails. Cardan seems to melt into her more, a long, faint breath easing out of him. 

Soon, he starts to sway with her. Just a simple accompaniment of his body with hers. Against hers. Beat and tempo are but second language to the king of Faerie and his many revels.

He continues to murmur in her ear, as if the words are a refrain he cannot get out of his head. “Everything,” he is saying. “My everything, Jude.” The words are both vow and reassurance all at once. She feels them seep into her bones. 

Cardan moves over her, trembling no longer. The mattress dips under their combined weight. 

There’s a certain whiplash to all of this. She’s supposed to be the one comforting him, and yet now it is he who is whispering sweetly into the quickly heating skin of her neck. It is he who guides their bodies into an altogether different kind of rhythm. 

Jude’s fingers clench into his bare shoulders. His habit of wearing nothing to bed has carried over into their marriage. She feels the overwhelming warmth of him all over her, the wisps of her nightgown a paltry barrier. 

Their hips press flush, and Jude knows it wasn’t intentional, but he’s right there between her thighs, and the way he’s rolling against her is now wickedly familiar. 

Or maybe he had meant it. Maybe this is how she can give him the comfort he needs –

There is no mistaking the rocking of their bodies now.

They are similar in this regard, in this need for something to fight with, to move against.  She will be the sentinel at his back as he wrestles with the phantom of his dreams.

Cardan surfaces from the crook of her neck like he is surfacing from cold water. She brings him down to her, until they are nose to nose, until she can see the last dregs of his nightmare swirling in the depths of his eyes. 

The words spill from him like a confession. “In the darkest shadows of my heart,” he tells her, hushed against the backdrop of the dying sun, “I wondered if I should ever see you again.”

And Jude thinks of the many, long months of her exile. Of how he had fought to keep her when Madoc stole her back as Taryn. She remembers the way he had clutched her to him after she beheaded the cursed snake. This isn’t just about the Undersea. 

“I came for you,” she reminds him. “I came back for you.” And then she rolls her hips up to meet his. 

Cardan groans. 

All traces of innocence evaporate. 

He descends upon her with a new vigor. She rises up under him with purpose simmering in her blood. Their bodies collide, and collide again, and he grasps her by the waist to hike her up higher. She wraps her legs around his hips, feels the length of him through the insubstantial fabric of her underwear. 

He dances, she fights, and in this, they move together. 

But first, she needs him to understand something. 

Jude pulls on his hair again, now a mess of black curls from her fingers. She wants the pain to remind him just who exactly he has pinned beneath him. His Queen, his wife, his equal. “I’m not going anywhere,” she promises harshly, and then takes her teeth to the base of his throat. 

His assent is a broken moan against her forehead. He spreads her knees wider, and grinds down in retaliation. He hits that spot between her legs, and Jude chokes back a whimper. 

“I want you with me for always.” His breathing is ragged. His pace is ceaseless. “Do you believe me?” 

Her body is hot all over, and he feels so good right there, she rocks her hips up because she wants him to do it again, more – 

She can feel his cock now, hard and hot against the quickly dampening fabric between her thighs. It’s blessed friction, but it’s not enough. 

“Do you believe me?” he says again. When she doesn’t answer right away, he digs into her again, running the length his cock up and down the seam of her underwear. The tip of it rubs against her clit, not quite hard enough, with every pass. 

Something like a whine escapes her lips. She can almost feel the beginnings of an orgasm curling low in her body, if only he would just – 

“Say yes, Jude.” It’s almost a plea, sealed with a strategic roll of his hips that has her arching up from the bed. And there, in his need for her confirmation, for her validation, Jude feels another piece of armor fall away between them. “Say yes.”

He’s crushing her, with the sheer weight of him all down the length of her hypersensitive body, with the magnitude of the meaning behind his words. 

She is surrounded by him, his chest pressed against hers. He is all she sees when she opens her eyes, not realizing that she had closed them in the first place. His eyes scorch as he looks down at her, dark with desire – and the need for her to believe. 

A small wildness charges the air between them. He knows her body so well now, knows exactly how to angle the next flex of his hips – 

“Yes,” Jude gasps. 

Cardan grins, slow and full of wicked intent. 

He bends down low again, ready to whisper another naughty pledge, ready to press a kiss to her wanting lips, ready to finally take that sinful mouth and those clever fingers and finish what he started – 

Three knocks, rapid like gunfire, ricochet through the room.  

_____________

End Note: 

😈

Look out for the next chapter hopefully within the next couple of weeks! The King and Queen need to address their little interruption, and Jude still has her own confession to make.

This fic started because Jude and Cardan needed to talk about the Undersea, and the repercussions of Jude’s kidnapping. I like to think that they both have their own hangups about what happened, and this is my humble exploration into how they possibly worked it out between them post-canon.

With added sexytimes, of course.

My inbox is open, so feel free to come shout about fic and fandom with me on my tumblr!

#jude x cardan #The Folk of the Air #tfota #cardan greenbriar #jude duarte #tfota fanfic #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #jurdan #jurdan fic #tcp #tcp fic #twk #post-qon #qon #qon spoilers #zita writes #fandom: tfota #fic: homeland #jurdanfanfic

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

I am living for your leverage meta! You are so insightful! I would love to see you write something about Sterling.

I’m so glad that you liked my meta! I don’t really have much to write about Sterling, but I do think he’s a very interesting character because he shows us how a lawful good person can also be a total bastard.

People tend to think of lawful good characters as boring, which isn’t true, lawful good characters are just often written poorly. Okoye from Black Panther is an excellent example of a well-written and therefore interesting lawful good character.

Here is a Dungeons and Dragons alignment chart, for those of you who aren’t familiar with it. It’s used in D&D to explain your character’s moral standpoint/outlook, but it’s been adopted by the community at large to explain the behavior and moral standpoint of characters across various fandoms. However, even though it’s now common vernacular, some people might not understand it:

So here ya go. Lawful alignments (lawful good, lawful neutral, and lawful evil) believe in a system. Chaotic alignments (chaotic good, chaotic neutral, chaotic evil) believe in subjective reasoning--the individual above the system. A lawful character would therefore say, “I do not murder.” A chaotic character would say, “well I don��t know, depends on the circumstance.” Chaotic characters do not trust systems.

Good versus evil is pretty easy to figure out. I like to put it as good being “others before myself” and evil as being “myself before others.” Neutral means you have no strong belief one way or another. Sure some systems are good. Sure some systems are flawed and can be broken. And so on.

So a lawful good character is someone who wants to help others but believes that the best way to do this is through a system and will work to uphold that system. Sure, that system fails sometimes, but overall it helps a lot more than it hurts and we would all be worse off if we didn’t have it.

And Sterling is a lawful good character. And he’s an asshole.

It’s fascinating because most people would probably argue that Sterling is lawful neutral: he cares only about the law, not about whether it’s good or bad or if it helps or hinders. But we see Sterling do altruistic things. We see moments where he has a heart. Hell, it’s stated a few times that he and Nate used to be friends, and Nate is far too compassionate, too much of a bleeding heart, to be friends with someone who doesn’t have any compassion or altruism in them.

It would actually be quite easy to make Sterling the protagonist of the story, and cast Nate in the roll of the foil, to make Sterling the man who struggles to uphold the law and to catch wrongdoers despite personal cost (a divorce, the death of his ex-wife, the loss of his daughter who he had to kidnap in order to save after a year of not being able to speak to her and being forced to use her as a spy, etc), a man who runs up against his former friend who is now a criminal and who believes in vengeance and taking the law into his own hands. I mean, how many stories have we seen where this exact thing happens?

Sterling has his own personal tragedies. His own struggles. And when the chips are down, we see him do the right thing, putting “good” above “lawful.”

But God, the way he goes about it being all smarmy and superior and smug, it’s so fucking annoying, and I love it. Because if we were in Sterling’s POV, we’d cheer! We’d love it! Yes, look at our snarky, savage protagonist go!

We’d hate Nate and call Nate superior and smug. We’d call Nate ruthless and reckless, call Nate selfish for putting his team at risk constantly in order to enact revenge. It’s amazing because Nate and Sterling are both flawed individuals with different but equally valid moralistic standpoints who clash again and again and the only difference in who the audience roots for is whose POV we are seeing, whose eyes we’re watching this through.

Sterling is a bastard. So is Nate. One’s lawful good, believing in the system and upholding that system until it is proven beyond a doubt that he needs to make an exception for it (and he always makes it clear that this is an exception). The other’s chaotic good, actively tearing down the system and pointing out its wrongs and genuinely surprised when it works out for the best but still refusing to trust it. Both are doing what they truly believe to be the best thing to help others.

This is how you do good foiling. Having a character who is clearly evil as a foil for the hero is all well and good but we also need stories like this where both characters are doing the best they can and are flawed and make mistakes and could do a lot of good if they would compromise and work together but instead they stick to their guns with everything they’ve got and it creates delicious delicious friction.

So yes. Sterling drives me nuts. I’m not a fan of him. But I’m also a chaotic person who thinks the system is broken and wants to tear it to pieces so, what do I know? *winks*

#mads answers things #leverage #leverage meta #james sterling #sterling meta #frenchtoastpanda

[brawltogethernow]

Tagged by @mirrorfalls​, hey dude.

Name: Olivia, not a secret but I’ve never liked it.

Nickname(s): Brawl is literally the only nickname I’ve ever had and I love it honestly.

Gender:  Can’t claim to understand the concept even after some little study.

Star Sign:  Capricorn

Current Time:  ............................exactly 4:00 a.m.

Favorite Artists: Calder, Vermeer; not leaving museum fodder or broadening the definition of “art” or we’d be here all day watching me fall apart like Chidi Anagonye trying to pick a hat.

Song Stuck in My Head: *pauses to listen to mental radio* “Caramelldansen” because I keep seeing memes, actively at war with “History Maker” because I’m rewatching YoI. That’s...certainly an otaku cocktail.

Last Movie I Saw: My brother and I coordinated to watch the 2000 Digimon movie. (We live in different states and hold movie nights over text.) It was bizarrely nostalgic despite my never having seen it or literally one minute of any other Digimon media before. It is just so aggressively a product of that year. I could have seen it. I cannot mentally place it into 2020; it has to be edited into ~2000 retroactively.

Last Thing I Googled: “discrete” to check if you can use it like “specific” without the connotation of “separate”. You cannot.

Other Blogs: Reference-saving blog here is ellipsisfolder. A couple empty side blogs, one that isn’t empty that I don’t want people visiting because I use it to save stuff for text post memes and post/reblog things I don’t want an audience for, like if I need a really quick and dirty way to send myself an image. I’m currently clusterfracas on Twitter, which I have basically never used for anything except that it’s recently make it easier to stay tuned in to the only corner of the Spider-Man fandom with opinions I agree with. Thinking of changing it to the same name as this blog for synergy, but it being the clean version of my favorite word (clusterfuck) and also a synonym for brawltogethernow if you tilt your head... Am I ready to give that up.

Do I Get Asks: Yes! I love you guys. Once in a blue moon I even finish answering them.

Reason for URL: An old note on my phone suggests I picked it from a huge pool of roughly Homestuck-username- style blends of words and phrases with common syllables. (brawl + all together now = brawl together now; philosophy + velociraptor = philociraptor) I vaguely remember drafting it? Noodling down all the combos I could come up with in...the schedule-filler law class I had last period of my senior year...? I’m not sure if I intended to use one or wanted to have them on hand for writing projects. I think it was basically doodling, actually. And I guess...I referenced it when I finally made an account? I’m glad I passed over the cutesier ones for one that’s vaguely violent.

Following: Apparently 77. Lots...of these...are dormant. I only follow stuff that updates so infrequently I know I'll forget it before it updates again, aesthetic/theme stuff I 100% jive with, and people whose social media I catch myself starting to check for updates constantly in rotation with the zombie-like refreshing of my blog activity/dashboard/e-mail. Otherwise I check blogs manually when I actually feel like it. Busy dashboard...ungood.

Average Sleep: Bad. I’m currently leveraging shelter in place to experiment with going along with when I naturally get tired and wake up -- which I thought I’d done before and always ended up with a somewhat fluctuating schedule of going to bed around sunset and waking up nine hours later, but I’ve realized that was actually still influenced by my drive to get up and go to bed as early as I could manage, and the concept of a 24-hour day. I’ve abandoned both of those and if I'm afraid to share the results. I think people would cry.

Lucky Number: 22, 9.

Currently Wearing: Artsy Threadless shirt of the TARDIS materializing, dark jeans, burgundy plaid overshirt, disintegrating open front sweater, purple and lavender socks with a landscape of pine trees, clouds, and a moose.

Dream Job: Non-specializing actor but sometimes Marvel calls and begs me to take a writing job for them and I graciously comply, also I have a webcomic and am a novelist and a princess-firefighter.

Okay not a princess-firefighter.

Dream Trip: Check any two: hot, city, ocean is nearby

Favorite Food: Sushi.

Instruments: Took piano for a few years at my own behest but didn’t get very good at it.

Favorite Song: Nah.

Tagging other people. I hate this part. XD ...Who do I owe at least one of these.... @phoenixyfriend @whetstonefires @lizasweetling (??) If you want to play please consider yourself tagged; this will probably get you tagged in the future.

#tag meme

[scioscribe]

have you got any Star Trek fic recommendations? I love what you’ve written and I’m super into the fandom atm

Oh, boy, do I.  I’ll try to keep this reasonably compact, but there’s a ton of excellent fic.  My to-read folder for this fandom currently has 262 items, and I’m also way behind on leaving comments on the stories I’ve loved because I’ve been glomming them so enthusiastically.  Hopefully this will shame me into appreciating the authors as they deserve.

My definition of “reasonably compact” apparently means “twenty-two separate recs,” so have a cut, everyone.

Kirk/Spock

Communication: One of my all-time favorites.  It’s a beautiful, incredibly romantic epistolary romance where Kirk and Spock wind up captaining separate ships during a war with the Tholians.  They write each other letters where they slowly feel out a resolution to their mutual pining, and the characterization is exquisite.

To Sing the Sun in Flight: I will happily read a million “Amok Time” AUs, but this might be my favorite.  It’s simple, hot, beautifully written, and perfectly characterized.

Our Bodies Safe to Shore: Excellent, plotty, and emotionally complex fic where Spock’s body is taken over by a hostile alien intelligence, one that can read his thoughts and imitate him, and he’s locked helplessly inside.  And the alien has noticed his feelings for Jim.

Joyboy: Post-Tarsus IV story where Kirk and Spock meet as teenagers, when Spock is with his father on a diplomatic mission where the Tarsus survivors are brought for temporary shelter.  Great characterization, maybe especially of Kirk, who gets to be both the woobie (he’s being shunned by a lot of people for doing sex work on Tarsus to stay alive) and the controlled, honorable budding leader.  Little bit of underage, but not particularly explicit.

Fulfilling the Needs of the One (Or the Both): Sweet Old Married Spirk story that blends slice-of-life with a nuanced emotional plot where Spock suddenly fears that he hasn’t been giving Jim the emotional support and romance Jim needs.  (Jim begs to differ.)

Sunlight: Kirk, Spock, and McCoy start filling out one of those “getting to know you” questionnaires together for a crew newsletter, and of course Spock and Kirk have ridiculously detailed opinions about things as simple as the other one’s hair color and eye color and what kind of animal they would be.  Also some cute McCoy characterization and appreciation for shortish Jim, which I always appreciate.

Freely Given: The last by this author, I promise!  This is the best “McCoy subtly plays matchmaker” fic I’ve read, where his prods and a trip to a planet where on-the-mouth kisses are a common form of greeting make Spock start thinking about what he wants from his relationship with Kirk.  Delightful, sharp Bones, a Kirk who wants to make sure his authority as captain isn’t coming into play here, and a beautifully analytical Spock who is slowly realizing the depths of his pining.

Great Expectations: My favorite bit of xeno!  Kirk and Spock are about to have their first time together, but Spock shies away from getting completely naked, and when he finally does, Kirk has an unfortunate reflexive reaction to his unfamiliar genitals.  Before sweetly and humorously consoling Spock about it and boldly and sexily going where no man has gone before.  This is hot and romantic and perfectly characterized, and I just want to give Spock a hug.

Centennial: More Old Married Spirk!  Kirk is turning one hundred, and he’s feeling his age a little.  But Spock has the perfect gift for him.  Absolutely heartwarming, and written with grace and restraint.

A Private Obsession: Outsider-POV narrated by a man from a rigid, sexually conservative planet.  He owns a factory where Kirk and Spock (clearly stranded and/or forced undercover for purposes the narrator doesn’t know) wind up working.  He becomes sexually and romantically obsessed with Kirk and painfully jealous of Spock–and the ease with which the two men love each other–and, of course, leveraging Spock’s failing health to get Kirk into his bed doesn’t, and can’t, solve his problems.

Famous Last Words: Super adorable fic where there’s a shipboard poll of everyone’s favorite quotes of famous people’s last words, and all of Kirk’s have, um, a certain subtext about seconds-in-command, love, and sex.  Contains flirting and foreplay and love confessions via quotes.  Which is fitting, because Kirk and Spock are enormous nerds.

The Game: Funny, insightful story with Kirk, Spock, McCoy, and Scotty playing a game–come up with something another person at the table would never, ever say–that then takes a sharp turn into devastating pining.  This ends as UST, but I can’t believe they don’t get together.  I mean, come on.

Warm Thoughts: Lovely, aching post-”Amok Time” story where Kirk wants to talk about what happened on Vulcan, Spock really doesn’t, and everything is brought to a head by an absolute hurt/comfort gift of a situation where Kirk comes back from a planet with an inability to get warm.  Spock can ostensibly use mind melds to help him a little–but things keep slipping through that he’d rather not deal with.  Excellent hurt/comfort and pining.

…And a Bottle of Rum: Adorable, hilarious, sexy established relationship fic where Kirk tries to use the “Shore Leave” planet for a bit of fun pirate role-play and Spock tries to be a good sport about it.  Hilarity ensues: “Help, help,” Spock called dutifully, and was set down again with a thump as Jim collapsed in a paroxysm of laughter.

Not So Last Words: Heartbreaking post-Wrath of Khan soulmate AU.  Your soulmate’s last words are supposed to be written on your wrist, but Kirk can’t understand how Spock could have died without saying what’s on his.  There is beautifully layered tearjerker stuff here.

Round is a Shape: There are a bunch of “older Kirk is self-conscious about his weight, Spock loves him just the way he is,” and I will read them all, because I am a chubby sap.  But this is my favorite.  Utterly adorable.

And the Truth Shall Set You Free: Smug telepathic aliens force Kirk to publicly declare his feelings to a shocked, unresponsive Spock who has been avoiding him lately.  The aliens feel like they could come straight out of an episode–there’s lots of debating about morality!  I love debating about morality!–and the romance is lovely and the crew is 1000% in Kirk and Spock’s corner.  And it’s delightful.

Cut Point: Spock gets an exceptionally flattering haircut, one that would probably make me moan, “I want to touch his hair,” even more than I already do.  Suddenly, everyone on the ship can’t stop talking about how good he looks, while Kirk loses his mind due to what he thinks is unrequited love.

Gen

Way, Hey, An’ Up She Rises: Nuanced and exquisitely written first meeting story about Kirk coming onto the Enterprise and Spock evaluating him.  Really well-characterized and great at the tentative feeling of the two of them feeling each other out.  And has “pretty shitty but not actually an indiscriminate villain” Gary Mitchell, which is a take I’m especially fond of.

Second Decent Destiny: Very shippy and technically pre-slash, but reads comfortably enough as gen.  “Amok Time” AU where T’Pau doesn’t alibi them to Starfleet and Kirk winds up with an honorable discharge for diverting the ship.  Spock joins him in extremely early retirement and the two of them try to figure out where they’re going from here.  Lovely, and a very good idea for a second-chance life.

Fortune’s Favoured Child: The formatting on this is kind of terrible, but it’s extremely well-worth it if you love Kirk hurt/comfort as much as I do.  In the aftermath of the deaths of Edith Keeler and his brother, Kirk is foundering a little, and seems to snap under the impact of yet another crisis–and in the process, reveals layers of suppressed pain that even his friends didn’t know about.

Lost and Found: Again, superb Kirk hurt/comfort–well-plotted, tense, angsty, and perfectly executed.  Kirk has been kidnapped and brutally tortured by Romulans, and as the story opens, he’s been brought back to the Federation in disgrace, having made a televised confession to all manner of crimes and (presumably) spilled Federation secrets to stay alive.  His crew is supposed to keep him in the brig and bring him to justice, but of course their loyalty is such that their immediate response is basically, “Fuck no.”  (I am bowled over by the sweetness of a particular gesture here.)  And Kirk gets to be both extremely damaged and extremely resourceful and inventive.

Other Ships

Matchmaker of Mars: I initially left this off by mistake because I was going through my bookmarks, and I always just get to this one through my gift page!  It’s Uhura/T’Pring 1930s Science Fiction Writer AU, which should be enough to make you want to read it--it has lovely characterization, note-perfect pastiche, and the two of them struggling to deal with John W. Campbell.

Oh, okay, so this was the short version.  It could have been longer, I promise.  This was relative restraint!

#star trek #star trek tos #fic recs

[elcorhamletlive]

fandom: MCU (Alternate Universe - Medieval) ship: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark tags: Outsider POV,  Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Howard Stark POV summary: “What I’m about to ask you has no relation to our alliance,” Rogers continues, his voice a lot steadier now. “I come here only in behalf of myself, and what I’m about to ask, I ask as a man, not as a soldier.”

Howard feels as if he can see the anticipation growing in the room, almost as a cloud forming over them. The guards don’t bother hiding the shock in their expressions, and even Jarvis can’t fully disguise the curiosity, his eyebrows quirked.

Rogers takes one short breath before locking his eyes with Howard’s. His blue gaze is almost peaceful in its resoluteness, as if there’s an element of inevitability in what he’s about to say.

“I’m here to ask for your son’s hand.”

“…with profuse thanks for the accommodations,” Obie’s voice echoes on the room, his low, monotone reading turned into a more solemn sound that it has any right to be, considering the dullness of the subject. “Lady Maryam hopes you’ll join her for dinner tonight.”

“And she will remain hoping.” Howard’s throat scratches as he speaks. He eyes the wine next to the throne, his mouth feeling dry as he sees the little drops of water dripping from the bottle. He can’t drink yet, though – there have been whispers, of course there have been, and he will not feed them so easily. He motions for Obadiah to go on, forcing himself to look away from the bottle.

His eyes dart around the large room. There’s a scribe boy next to Obadiah, taking note of his every word with unfailing precision. Jarvis is next to him, his posture very still and eyes focused, expressionless, exerting his wonderful ability of hiding in plain sight.

As Obadiah starts listing the latest shipments coming from the port, Howard feels the beginning of a headache prickling up his neck. It’s an unbearably hot evening, and even the servant girl fanning him does little to combat the heat. The velvet cushion of the throne sticks to his skin uncomfortably.

“Is that all, then?” He asks, barely bothering to hide his eagerness, as soon as Obadiah pauses to breathe.

There’s hears a noise on his side, something akin to a cough or laughter. Howard’s neck snaps as he turns.

Truth be told, he had forgotten Tony was there. One could hardly fault him for that – Tony was never present in meetings about their economic affairs, even though, according to his duty as the lord’s son, he should be.

Then again, Tony wouldn’t recognize his duty if it slapped him in the face with a horse’s carcass.

“Apologies,” Howard says, his voice cutting as his eyes land on the chair to his right. To his frank surprise, Tony is dressed properly, in a blue waistcoat with golden embroidery and blue breeches. His posture is slightly slouched, but, as he schools his features in a serious expression and looks back at Howard with curiosity, he almost looks just as a young man on his position should. Almost. “Should I put on a jester’s hat for my next joke? Would that make it more amusing to you?”

Tony’s mouth quirks as if it had a life of its own - a notion Howard certainly wouldn’t dispute - but he ducks his head, eyes staring down at his lap.

“Forgive me,” he says, voice meek. “My… my immaturity gets the best of me at times, father.”

“Indeed it does,” Howard agrees. He’s astonished by the lack of an irreverent reply; Tony has never lost one opportunity to be snippy with him.

Perhaps he’s feeling ill, Howard thinks. The thought is not strong enough to be a concern, but it still makes him strangely uncomfortable. He grasps the goblet’s stem before raising it to his lips for another sip.

To hell with the whispers, he thinks. He can do as he wants.

When he lowers his glass, he realizes all the eyes are on him, waiting for permission to continue the conversation. He barely fights back the urge to sigh.

“Are we done?” He directs the question to Obadiah, turning away from Tony entirely.

“I’m afraid not yet, my lord,” Obadiah’s voice sounds compassionate, but there’s a glimmer in his eyes that leave no doubt this is the moment he’s been waiting for all night. “The rebels sent a raven to the city walls last night. Captain Rogers has requested an audience with you.”

The last words seem to suck all air out of the room. Howard straightens his posture, forgetting for a moment his discomfort with the throne’s cushion. “They have gotten all the weapons we sent them, have they not?”

“Yes, my Lord. The Captain said it was… a different matter.”

“And he specifically asked to speak to me,” Howard says, not a question.

Obadiah nods.

Howard clenches his jaw. “We cannot afford to spare any more soldiers.”

This isn’t entirely true – Howard could, he imagines, send a few more man to meet the Captain’s forces. But that would weaken their own defenses more than he’s comfortable with. He’s already playing a large risk, allying himself to the Captain’s cause.

Some would say it was a safe bet. Through the entire kingdom, there are villagers convinced of a certain victory, already singing songs of the one who came to free them from Zola’s tyranny. But for the longest time, Howard had dismissed this possibility: rebellions come and go, and it’s foolish for a nobleman to be concerned with the legends of the common folk. Even as tales of the Captain’s prowess in battle started reaching royal feasts, for the longest time the rebels were still perceived as a momentary threat; a thorn on the king’s side and nothing more. When word got around that the king had sent Pierce’s command to handle them, most of the lords - Howard included - had assumed that would be the end of the rebellion.

Everything changed when Pierce’s men were defeated. Suddenly, the tables had turned, and any lord worth his land was scraping for leverage to negotiate with the rebels.

Of course, the Starks were a crucial piece of support for the Captain to get, if he intended to govern the North. The whole continent knew of the quality of Stark iron and the weapons they could craft. It was, then, only a matter of time until they received a messenger to negotiate an alliance. The Captain had not been present, yet according to the messenger - a stunning and terrifying red-haired woman - he had wanted to be there, except it wasn’t safe for him to veer inside the city to reach the palace.

The negotiations went smoothly, and in no time, the Starks were officially allied with the rebels, just – as the rumors said - in time for the Captain to start planning his final assault against the king’s castle.

Howard didn’t mind being late to the party. He’d leave the alliance for after the king was overthrown if he could, but Gods know that would lower his negotiation power considerably. He was left with no choice.

He is not very happy about that. Mind you, he has no love for the king – the crazy, old bastard could jump off a cliff for all Howard cares – but Zola ruled the lands for decades. With him, it was easy to know where you stood. With the Captain…

Well. That remains to be seen.

“Did he, uh,” a voice cuts through the silence, and it sounds so hesitant that it’s with quite a shock Howard realizes it’s Tony’s. “Did he say when?”

“No, my lord,” Obadiah says. Howard barely resists the urge to roll his eyes. He spoils Tony too much, not nearly as much as Maria had, true, but... “Though I assume he must be waiting for a swift reply. We don’t know how long he can stay in the outskirts—"

“I will see him tomorrow,” Howard declares, half-distracted by the wine goblet and the way its gold reflects the lights of the chandelier. “Send word for him to meet me after dinner.”

“Of course,” Obadiah replies, with a slight bow. Tony, sitting on his chair, shifts a little.

“This should be interesting,” Howard states. The wine is a bit on the sweet side for him, he decides. His eyes dart to the door, already wondering—the last bottle the Romanoffs sent, had he finished it? And if not, where had it gone? Perhaps on the last cabinet of the kitchen, the one Happy kept locked at his request…

“Meeting the Captain can’t hurt,” Obadiah agrees, running his hand over his beard. “Perhaps we can gather information on his next assault.”

“He won’t say anything,” Tony counters. “Besides, it’s not as if you will be meeting for the first time.”

Howard frowns at that, though his eyes remain at the door.

“Tony, Tony, Tony,” Obadiah says, as if he’s talking to a child. “It’s dangerous for the Captain to veer into the city. We have negotiated through a messenger. He has never been here before.”

Howard glances at Tony’s reaction. Part of him feels curious, the other part is already at the kitchen, thinking about the Romanoff’s bottle.

“I know this,” Tony says, huffing a breath. “I’m talking about…” He trails off when he catches sight of Howard looking at him. “You know what I’m talking about. You know him.”

Howard raises an eyebrow in response.

“Do I?”

“Yes,” Tony replies, and Howard feels a tinge of annoyance at the indignation that fills his expression, as if Howard has insulted him deeply. “He used to live here, years ago, as a child. Don’t you remember?” He frowns as if the possibility honestly confuses him. “He tended the stables. How could you not remember?”

A moment of stunned silence follows his question.

“Oh, yes.” Howard grins and snaps his fingers. “Of course. How could I not remember a kid who once worked on the stables ages ago? I obviously have nothing better to think about.”

The scribe lets out a muffled laugh. Howard, with a rush of self-satisfaction, waits to see Tony’s cheeks flush with shame, but instead he only seems more indignant, hands closing into fists on his lap.

“Are you jesting?” He snaps. His eyes are wide, seeming bigger than ever. He got that from Maria – big, unbearably inquiring eyes. “He set your horse for you every morning for years. And you’re saying you couldn’t even be bothered to learn his name?”

Hot anger boils in Howard’s stomach. “You might enjoy mixing up with all sorts of people, Tony,” he spits, his voice dripping with disdain, leaving no doubt as to what class of mixing he’s referring to. “But I’m a busy man, and I can’t bring myself to learn the names of every poor bastard who makes sure the horses don’t eat themselves to death.”

The flush finally appears in Tony’s cheeks, but it’s not of shame, but anger.“He’s not—” His mouth shuts with an audible click and he stands abruptly. “I should go.” He turns on his heels as quickly as possible, walking in large strides towards the door.

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#stony #stevetony #howard stark #marvel trumps hate #stony fic #my fics

[waterchestnut123]

CH 10 | To Catch A Turtle Dove

Fandom: One Piece Setting: Victorian AU Genre: Action, Adventure, Humor, Friendship, Romance. Pairings: Law/Nami Rating: M - Mature (for language, drinking and alcohol, death and some moderate gore, other adult themes)

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Chapter 10: Fool Me Three Times

It had snowed in the days since the ball, blanketing the ground and trees beyond the city in a fresh layer of white. They trundled smoothly along in the Lord’s luxurious carriage, a muted, powdery crunch beneath its large wheels as they wound their way through the woods north of the Capitol on a trajectory for Trafalgar Castle. Nami stared down at her lap, trying to keep her gaze anywhere but on the man opposite her who sat comfortably reading the day’s paper, a small burlap sack filled with her filched goods sitting close beside him.

She would simply be possessed by the urge to kick him in the shins, and that would get her nowhere fast.

She readjusted her cuffed wrists beneath her cloak, sighing—breath puffing in a cloud before her. She felt torn between the urge to cry and scream, though she couldn’t really afford either in her present circumstance—one she was still struggling to grasp. Had it really been only a few hours ago she’d been drinking in celebration with Usopp and Franky at Baratie?

Well, she didn’t have much to celebrate, now.

Finding no comfortable position at which the cold, hard metal could rest against her wrists, she turned her gaze instead out the window, letting the bleached, uninhabited landscape lull her thoughts somewhere—anywhere, else.

 “So—wait… you want me to help you investigate and lure out unknown enemies who are trying to assassinate you?”

 She was still backed against the wall of her bedroom, but once she’d demonstrated a modicum of compliance he had released his hold on her, standing directly in front of her with his arms casually—if cautiously, crossed. He nodded succinctly in response to her question; and as his ludicrous proposition took root in her mind she felt the caution which had arisen in light of his devil fruit abilities momentarily take flight.

 “Are you out of your mind?! I’m not going to be your bait!”

 “Would you prefer I arrest you for grand theft?” he inquired smoothly.

 She shut her mouth, teeth grinding as she glared at him hatefully.

 “This isn’t exactly a choice, is it?”

 He merely smirked in response.

 She turned from his smug expression, gazing angrily at the window. On the one hand, death was certain; on the other, death was simply very likely. And if she were to die in this endeavor… there would be no one left to take care of Nojiko and Rebecca. But for whatever reason he seemed to want her specifically for this task—so she, a living and willing participant, was of value to him. It was a card she had to play; her only card.

 She worried her lip a moment before finally speaking.

 “I’ll do it on one condition.”

 “I don’t think you’re in a position to be making conditions,” he quipped with a raised brow.

 “This problem of yours is clearly big enough and troublesome enough that you would stoop to entrapping a common thief for help. For whatever reason you need me; and if you want my help, it comes with conditions whether you like it or not,” she snapped.

 His expression quickly morphed from amusement to annoyance, and she knew she’d shifted the negotiations in her favor.

 “Live or die—I get to keep everything I stole, plus the value of your rings.”

 His eyes narrowed on her thoughtfully. After several beats of silence he replied in slow, measured words.

 “When the job is done… agreed. But only then.”

 “Do I have your word?”

 He looked amused but nodded nonetheless.

 “You have my word.”

 He extended a hand between them, and after a moment’s hesitation she reached for it, shaking on the deal; but then his grip tightened, holding her hand in place as he quickly reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of handcuffs, quickly securing it around her trapped wrist before snatching her other and cuffing it as well.

Turning her gaze away from the snow she glanced down again at her chronically uncomfortable wrists with a huff, fidgeting in her seat to relieve herself of whatever irritant was poking her in the leg. How—how—had she ended up in this mess? Though they had been driving for a good half hour already, she found she still kept combing through the day, trying to figure out where things had gone wrong or what she could have done differently to avoid this. There were so many moments—so many missed opportunities; if only she had realized…

Still… she was grateful for Robin’s help, even if she’d still been caught at the end. The cheese knife had proven a near saving grace; if only she’d made it out the window before he could summon his devil fruit ability. Absently, she wished that Robin could somehow cross the distance which now separated them to aide her once more—sneak her something else with which to make an escape. She’d make much better use of such an opportunity now.

She fidgeted, feeling the object poke her thigh again. Irritated, she looked down, sweeping the fabric of her skirts aside to examine the cushioned seat beneath her. But as she pulled her skirt into her lap, she felt the poke again, and stilled. The object seemed to have moved with her skirt—was it caught in the fabric? Though it was more difficult with the cuffs shackling her wrists together, she used what leverage she had to pull apart the folds and, when she found nothing, curiously—and with great effort, reached into her pocket. Feeling around, she found her fingers closing over a single metal hairpin.

She pulled it out and lifted it before her face, starting at it, dumbfounded, as it glinted dully in the fading light. She distinctly remembered taking out her hair pins when she went to the tavern, leaving them on her dresser before departing for Baratie; and she felt fairly certain she hadn’t left any in her dress…

She nearly gasped as the realization hit her.

Robin.

The older woman had bumped into her on her way out of the apartment, and she must have snuck the pin into her dress pocket. Oh sweet merciful heavens she really would have to kiss her once she got out of all this!

She glanced over at her captor, eying him closely—carefully, feeling her heart rate steadily climb. He seemed fully absorbed in his reading, but still, she shouldn’t dally. This would be her final shot at escape; there could be no room for mistakes.

With nimble fingers she began to bend the pin out of shape, wriggling the makeshift lock pick into the lock of the cuffs beneath her cloak. She had to work achingly slowly to avoid making any noise that could be heard above the groan of the gently swaying carriage; but soon she felt the telltale pop of the lock, and the cuffs loosen around her wrists.

She quietly stacked the cuffs on top of one another, wrapping them up in her skirt to silence them. Chancing another glance at him, she was grateful to find he seemed utterly unaware of her actions, idly flipping the page of the paper as his knee brushed the cane which lay propped against the seat beside him. Perfect.

Her heart was racing by the time she began to review her limited options for escape. None of them were particularly good—her best bet was simply to make a run for it; he was far too strong for her to have any chance at subduing him. She didn’t know how fast he was, which was admittedly a large flaw in this plan, nor did she know the specific nature of his devil fruit—an even bigger flaw; but she wasn’t fool enough to trust a partner to hold their end of a supremely unequal deal. Once they reached the castle—its staff entirely under his command, her chance of escape officially hit zero. She had to try.

Besides—she had the element of surprise, and desperation and adrenalin on her side.

She held her breath, eyes darting from him to the carriage door handle, then out the window to the landscape. Shrubs and underbrush lined the road, leading some fifty feet out to a dense tree line; but up ahead maybe only a minute or two, the road passed through a clearing. If she were quick enough, she could jump the carriage and dart through the barren field to the tree line, and maybe—hopefully, loose her pursuers in the dense woods.

She tensed, her eyes darting back and forth between her captor and the landscape, waiting… As the carriage passed the final cluster of shrubbery, she steeled her nerves. Heart thundering in her chest she leaned forward, hand reaching for the handle. With a sudden jerk of her wrist she pushed it down, leaping from her seat and putting her full weight on the door, cuffs clattering to the floor of the carriage as she leapt out and onto the snow-dusted earth.

She picked herself up as quickly as her legs were able and ran as though her life depended on, never once looking back. The cold wind whipped at her face like a lash and her blood was pounding so loudly in her ears she could no longer hear the sounds of the horses and carriage; but she didn’t stop, forcing her burning legs through the almost ankle-deep snow without slowing. The trees were just up ahead—she was almost there. She could make it—she had to make it!

Then, suddenly, that strange blue light expanded outward around her like a bubble—the same which had surrounded her when she jumped out her bedroom window. She felt her heart sink, but pushed herself harder—forced herself faster.

An unearthly, resounding crack echoed through the meadow, and though she jumped at the sound she kept going; until she caught sight of the trees before her, and stumbled to a sudden, breathless stop.

As though they were made of butter and cut with a hot knife, the row of trees ahead of her slid apart along a clean, angled cut midway up their trunks, just above her head. In mere moments they fell over, a great groaning echoing through the clearing as the wood protested the sudden and unexpected strain, snow rising in a cloud around them as they crashed to the ground, blocking her path. She blinked in fearful bewilderment, powdery snow settling on her lashes, chest heaving, scarcely able to believe what she was seeing.

It was him—it had to be him.

Still trapped in his blue sphere and with nowhere left to run, she slowly turned around, her heart pounding so hard she felt as though she would collapse under the strain.

And there he was, standing in the snow on the side of the road, the sheath of his cane in one hand and its hidden blade in the other, smiling as though he were watching the most amusing scene play out before him; and perhaps he was. For in that moment, she came to understand just how outmatched she had been all along. This man was immensely, dangerously powerful. Though she didn’t understand what his devil fruit was or how it worked, whatever it did gave him the ability to fell a dozen trees at once from over fifty feet away—something no human should ever be capable of.

She’d never stood a chance.

Panting hard in the snowy field, powdery flakes settled slowly around them, her body trembling from exertion and the fear now crawling up her spine. She subconsciously hugged her cloak tighter around her as though its spartan weave had any chance of protecting her from him.

He took his time approaching her, steps languid and slow, stopping a foot in front of her with a devilish smirk.

“That was unwise, Nami-ya,” he murmured.

The trembling was uncontrollable now, fear holding her heart in a vice-grip.

“Please—” she uttered helplessly, unsure of what exactly she was asking for. Mercy, perhaps; a second chance.

“Fool me once, shame on you,” he said lowly with an unnerving smile, taking a small step towards her and raising his sword. “Fool me twice, shame on me.” He took another step, angling his sword above her head. “But fool me three times?” He tutted, closing the distance and bringing down the handle.

She shut her eyes tightly as she screamed—a sharp pain ringing on the side of her head; then the world went dark, and she knew no more.

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#to catch a turtle dove #one piece #one piece fanfiction #one piece au #op fanfiction #op au #op #trafalgar law #trafalgar d water law #one piece nami #cat thief nami #cat burglar nami #lawna #victorian au #victorian setting