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eevvvaa · 2 years

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Don’t Mess With Witches

Summary : On a witch hunt, Dean is willing to be bait. What could go wrong ?

Pairing : Dean x reader

Words : 9 991

Warnings : Fluff, a bit of angst, a hint of language (I think that's it, but let me know if I forgot something)

A/N : This is my very shamefully late participation for @avanatural‘s 300 followers celebration. Congratulations again my friend ! I'm sure you have much more now and you clearly deserve them but here it is. Thank you so so much for being so patient with me, reassuring me when I was worried because I had missed the deadline and being so kind when I explained to you my writing block. I hope you won’t be disappointed. My prompt was “ With great hotness comes great responsibility”

A/N 2 : I want to thank @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior too for being a very nice, helpful and patient beta reader. You really helped me, it was nice to have someone pointing at my mistakes and correcting them. Working with you helped me get back on track. You’re a great English teacher ahah, thank you for aggreing to this.

Text divider by the talented @talesmaniac89

Masterlist

“Why does it always have to be witches? I hate freaking witches! Give me the creeps.” Dean said, excessively shaking his body as if a huge shiver had run down his spine from his spiky hair to the tips of his toenails.

Not everyone liked witches.

They were the kind of magical beings you either hated or adored. Their magic and strength coming from the moonlight, the rays of the sun, or the soft and damp dirt of the woods could be fascinating. But the whole sacrificing Thumper and showering with lambs’ blood, could be an ugly and disturbing part.

Some people saw witches as devotee defenders of nature, protecting and worshiping the miracle that is Life, wanting to keep the balance intact. Others only saw them as mean women hidden in cabins, surrounded by skeletons of animals, drawing with blood and dirt, chanting in Latin, naked in the middle of the night, calling Satan as their one and only ruler.

Those representations of witches were just clichés. And truth was, both of those clichés did exist, but they weren’t all witches. Not all witches were psychopaths or lovers of nature. Some were just living their life peacefully without doing any harm to anyone - or any animals.

Unfortunately, Dean had only met the killer ones.

“You do know that not all of them sacrifice humans or think that Beelzebub is their true lover, right?” I told the older brother, rolling my eyes.

He turned to me, eyebrows slightly raised and arms crossed. We’d had this discussion before and I had proved him wrong multiple times, but Dean was a man full of pride and he didn’t like to be wrong. So it was the same argument over and over.

“You only say that because you owe them.” He said, standing in the middle of the motel room.

I crossed my legs on the bed I was sitting on, not needing to stand up to win this fight. And sometimes remaining calm had more power than yelling. I rested my back against the headboard behind me and took a breath, already bored with this discussion.

“You know that’s not true. Yes, some of them helped me in the past but I don’t owe them anything. I just learned that not all ‘monsters’ do monstrous things. The ones you hunt usually do but it doesn’t apply to every one of them. But you know that, your best friend is an angel, you’re friends with a werewolf, and you literally helped a vampire return to Earth. Not all monsters are killers, just like not all hunters are idiot brutes who don’t know anything besides killing ghouls.” I declared, tying back my hair to allow the very light air conditioner to blow on my hot neck.

“Dean, you guys have already talked about this. Can we move on and just focus on the case?” Sam interrupted the conversation, probably bored of this never-ending argument.

“You think hunters are dumbasses?” The older man asked, his voice a bit higher than usual, emphasizing his fake offended face.

I shook my head, a soft smile spreading across my lips because even though this discussion was always the same, it was also always funny to see how Dean could act like if he was genuinely outraged by my words. I let a soft chuckle out and pushed myself off of the bed, standing in front of him.

“No. Not all hunters are dumbasses. You are the exception.” I told him, patting his chest. I winked before walking to the bathroom, the heat of the season making me sweaty and smelly.

All I wanted was to take a shower.

Before I closed the door, I heard Sam frankly laugh and I could perfectly see in my mind the bitch face Dean was giving him.

In the bathroom, I sighed as the heat of the summer invaded the room. It couldn’t be normal to have such a warm day, even if it was the middle of July. Taking my shirt off, I already felt lighter and cooler but I desperately needed a cold shower to get rid of this sticky feeling. Getting rid of my pants, I could still hear the brothers talking in the room.

Motels walls were always awfully thin.

“She always wins, I don’t understand why you persist arguing with her.” He declared to his brother who growled in response.

“It’s just witches, man. I never liked them and never will. There’s nothing more to say.” Dean complained, and deep down I understood where he was coming from.

As hunters they were taught to hate everything related to the supernatural, trained to fight those creatures with weapons or their own fists. So witches and their spells could be very frustrating to them. They could never be sure of their next move or trick, so they could very easily feel powerless against them.

I understood that but Dean had a real obsession with them and I had asked him plenty of times if something had ever happened with one of them but the answer was always no. He just hated them.

“You have a deep-rooted hate against them, yet you never had trouble liking Y/N.” Sam told his brother with his teasing voice and the corner of my lips unconsciously lifted.

The tall man always loved teasing his brother and I about being friends, claiming there was something more than friendship between the two of us. And he never believed us when we answered that we were nothing more. Truth was, in my mind I always added a ‘yet’ at the end of my answer, hoping that one day I was gonna have the courage to reveal my feelings to the older brother.

“Y/N is not a witch.” Dean answered back, something protective in his voice.

He was right, I wasn’t a witch.

But witches had helped me through the hardest time of my life. When my parents died, killed by a demon, it wasn’t hunters who saved me. It was witches.

They had searched for this demon for a while, trying to stop it from committing more massacres, until they found it in my house, slitting my parents’ throats. I was sixteen and never screamed so loudly in my whole life. They killed the demon and kindly took care of me for a few years, showing me how they lived and what they did, explaining to me that they were neither good or bad, just bits of both, as we all are. But they also taught me that some witches could be real monsters, working with demons like the one who had killed my family.

Those were the ones hunters killed.

They were the reason I decided to become a hunter. I wanted to protect people from living through the same thing I had.

On a hunt I met Sam and Dean and we decided we were a good team; we’ve worked together ever since. We shared our pasts and I explained where I came from. At first they froze, wondering about my relationship with witches. But after some explanation and more information, they agreed to continue working with me, understanding that I wasn’t the enemy.

Thinking back on the words of the older brother, I smiled again, appreciating the defensive tone he had used while talking about me, but I couldn’t help but tease him, it was too funny.

So, in a tank top and panties I half opened the door, not completely revealing myself to the brothers.

“Well, I know the basics of being a witch.” I interrupted and they both turned towards me.

A grin illuminated Sam’s face; he was happy to watch me annoying his brother. Dean on the other hand scanned me from head to toe as much as he could, making me hide a little more behind the door. When he caught my eye, he acted like he hadn’t been ogling me, and cleared his throat.

“You want me to consider you as one or what? You know it’s not a compliment coming from me, Sweetheart.” He said, crossing his arms again.

“Maybe it’s time for you to accept that deep down you like them.” I said quickly before closing the door behind me, resting my back against it.

“I swear, that woman is stubborn as hell.” Dean declared, a smile in his deep voice.

“Dude, you’re the stubborn one because she’s definitely right.” His brother told him and I let a little laugh out as the older one scoffed.

“Yeah, of course you’re always on her side.”

I could see Dean’s pout and eye-roll even in another room, I knew him too well.

“I’m just always on the right side.” Sam explained and I heard Dean mimicking and mocking him.

I shook my head at their bickering and striped off my clothes before getting into the shower, enjoying the cool water easing my body.

Once I felt cleaner and lighter, I stepped out of the shower and grabbed the first towel nearby, knowing that even if I had chosen one only for me, the brothers were going to mix them up and we’ll always end up using the same one.

Boys…

Wrapped in the dark blue towel, I looked around searching for my clean clothes. But the only piece of fabric I could find were the dirty ones on the floor. I sighed when I realized I had forgotten to take my other clothes with me before stepping into the bathroom. So, I tightened the towel around my body, making sure it wasn’t going to fall off when I walked out, and slowly opened the door.

I stuck my head out of the door and quickly looked at the front door, not hearing anything, nor seeing the brothers sitting at the table. On my tiptoes I got out of the bathroom and headed to my bag next to the table. But halfway there I heard someone clear their throat.

I jumped, letting a small scream out and putting my hands on my chest, both to keep the towel in place and to keep my heart from leaping out of my chest. When I turned around, I saw Dean sitting on his bed against the wall, his phone in hand and his eyebrows raised in curiosity, the smirk never leaving his lips.

“God, Dean!” I yelled, cursing under my breath when I lifted my head in annoyance.

“Are you putting on a show for me or something?” He asked, a dirty grin plastered on his stupid, pretty face.

I both hated and loved that grin, because as much as I appreciated the warm feeling it awakened in my stomach, he always sent it my way when he was messing with me, sometimes confusing me as to whether the flirting was real, or just simple teasing.

Trying not to not let him get to me, I shook my head, hiding the blush on my cheeks and the effect he had on me.

“You wish. I wouldn’t have come out like this if knew you were here. Why are you all silent, anyway? And where is Sam?” I asked him, crossing my arms to hide my chest.

Dean stared at me for a second and I raised my eyebrows at him, waiting for an answer. He shook his head slightly as if he was trying to erase his thoughts. I let a small smile reach my lips.

“Well, I was alone. You want me to talk to myself? And Sammy went looking for some ice, he’ll be back in a few.” He explained and I nodded, we definitely needed ice to cool our drinks down or we were going to melt under the warmth of this day.

“Good, we’ll definitely need some.” I answered and walked closer to my bag.

When I was ready to pick it up from the floor, I glanced at the hunter and realized he was still looking at me. I sighed and stared at him.

“Would you mind turning around or closing your eyes?” I told him off, but he just turned his body towards me instead, sitting on the edge of the bed, hands crossed between his knees.

I growled and he chuckled, proud of annoying me. I glared at him and squinted, hoping he would get the message. I might have been trying to intimidate him, but Dean isn’t intimidated by much, so, not surprisingly, it didn’t work.

“Why don’t you cast a spell to make me forget what I see? You said you knew the basics, right? So why worry about me possibly seeing anything?” The hunter said with confidence, assured that I was going to back down from the subject of witches.

But I wasn’t planning on letting him win so easily. I hummed and nodded.

“You’re right, I’ll make a few calls and find a spell that works. Thanks for the idea, Dean.” I told him, quickly but carefully grabbing my clean clothes and my phone on the table, wiggling it so he could see it.

“I think I know one whose specialty is amnesia; shouldn’t be too complicated.” I added before rapidly heading to the bathroom again, locking the door behind me. The hunter’s face fell quickly, realizing that I could indeed call a few witches to ask for help with these kinds of things.

If he had truly thought about it, he would have known that I would never use any kind of spell on him, let alone a spell to erase his thoughts. It could be really dangerous. But Dean definitely wasn’t using his brain as he hurried to the bathroom and grabbed the handle of the door, desperately trying to open it.

“Y/N, open the door! Give me the phone!” He yelled behind the locked door and I chuckled, amused by how desperate he sounded.

He banged on the door with strength and I laughed a little louder, just to annoy him. He growled as an answer.

“Come on!” He shouted and there was the sound of a door opening and slamming in the background. Dean stopped hitting the door when a voice spoke.

“Dude, what are you doing?” Sam asked, confusion clear in his voice.

“She’s gonna erase my memory!” The hunter said urgently and I shook my head, amazed by Dean’s naivete sometimes.

“Well, do you deserve it?” Sam asked and his brother rapidly answered.

“No! I barely saw anything!” He argued, the worry of me actually erasing his thoughts making his voice shake a little.

Chuckling, I got dressed, shaking my head over and over as the brothers continued to argue about whether Dean deserved to have his memory erased or not. Then, tying my hair in up a ponytail, I put my phone in my back pocket and came closer to the door.

“Right, thank you Becca, I knew you were the one to call for this. Take care, bye.” I said loudly so they could hear me clearly behind the plank of wood.

“Seems like you’re screwed, man.” Sam told his brother who grumbled in annoyance and defeat.

Sitting at the table in our motel room, I had to bite my cheek a few times to keep myself from laughing right in Dean’s face every time I felt his eyes on me.

Once I’d left the bathroom, I acted like nothing happened at all, completely ignoring Dean and winking at Sam for backing me up on this little prank. After some time, Dean understood it was just a little joke and that nothing was going to happen to him. And even if he was now aware he was safe, he was still eyeing me, making sure I wasn’t going to put a spell on him every time his back was turned.

I couldn’t help but shake my head and smile a little at the idea.

Sam began laying out our next case. “So, according to the witnesses I interrogated, all the men disappeared after hitting on a redheaded woman in the Outback Bar. The bartender said he saw the woman multiple times but never with the same man, despite them being good-looking and quote, ‘confident enough to think they could spend a night with such a woman’. Wait,” Sam shuffled some papers around, “I’m gonna show you some pictures.”

He browsed through the files and put the pictures of the victims on the table in front of them.

All of the men were indeed very good-looking, from the blond one with the shiny brown eyes to a couple dark-haired men with intense blue eyes, their body types and faces were different, but no one could argue with their attractiveness.

After observing all of them, I looked back at Sam who was reading through one of the files again, probably making sure he hadn’t forgotten anything.

“So, what do we do?” I asked as Dean picked up one of the photographs to look closer at it.

The younger man raised his head, his long hair brushing against the sides of his face. He cleared his throat a little, thinking about it for a second, but I knew him well enough to know he already had an idea.

Running his hand through his hair, he let a sigh escape and looked at his brother and I.

“Well, the easiest option and the one most likely to work, is to use bait. One of us should go to the bar, find this woman, hit on her, and get her to lead us to her place – the one she uses for her victims.” Sam explained.

I wasn’t very fond of this idea.

Using someone as a bait for a hunt was never safe. We could easily lose track of the person being bait, mistake an innocent person for the monster, or something even worse. Sam was obviously feeling the same way because he looked like he wasn’t very happy about his own proposition. I opened my mouth, ready to try for another solution, but Dean cut me off before I could get a word out.

“Alright then, I think this one is for me. Sorry Sammy.” He declared and I turned towards him, brows raised at his quick and easy willingness to be bait. Sam scoffed at his brother and straightened in his seat.

“And why are you the one who has to be bait?” Sam asked. “I think we should talk about this a little more. You don’t have to do this; I’m sure we can find another way, right y/n?”

I nodded, in agreement. But Dean did not agree.

“What is the other option? Wait for another guy to disappear?” Dean asked. Sam and I didn’t have an answer.

“Come on, it won’t be the first time one of us has had to be bait. And you two will be in the bar, making sure I don’t get stabbed through the heart by this bitch.” Dean declared, leaving me silent.

To say I didn’t like the idea of Dean being bait was an understatement. I didn’t want either of them to be used to trick a monster, especially unpredictable ones like witches.

“But why does it have to be you?” Sam asked again. “I could be the one to do it.” The younger brother tried to argue but Dean shook his head at him, putting the picture down on the table.

“Well, no offense, Sammy, but I think this one is for me. With great hotness comes great responsibility.” He proudly declared and Sam and I rolled our eyes in sync.

“You did not just say that.” I sighed, throwing my head back in annoyance.

“You’re an idiot.” Sam said simply, his best bitch-face taking over his features.

Dean chuckled proudly and shrugged at our reactions. He was indeed an idiot and I was convinced he knew it because the smile he gave us at this exact moment, showed just how happy he was with his turn of phrase.

“What? You disagree, Sweetheart?” He asked me, cocking an eyebrow.

I crossed my arms. “Let him be bait.” I told Sam, not really agreeing with the idea, but with the fact that his brother was an idiot. Sam sighed and closed the file, shaking his head a little as his brother proudly smiled next to me.

The bar was crowded and it was a bit difficult to keep an eye on Dean. The pop songs blaring through the speakers at were making the customers dance, crowding the floor. If you wanted to go to the bathroom, you had to try and find a path between the girls jumping up and down and swinging their hair around, and the couples making out.

In the forty-five minutes we’d been there, we still hadn’t spotted the witch. Only a few girls had come to talk to Dean, awakening a feeling in my stomach.

Probably jealousy…

I didn’t want to be jealous of them because I knew he wasn’t really interested in them. Even if he wasn’t just there to catch a witch, even if he wanted to take them home for real, he’d probably show interest for a night and then move on, and if I was honest with myself, that wasn’t what I wanted.

I didn’t want a night with Dean, I wanted a life with him. It didn’t matter that as a hunter that life could end in five years. I just wanted to share things with him that those girls couldn’t. I wanted his tears and his laughter, the side of his personality those girls would never know – the caring and funny dork and the strong and determined hunter.

But none of that changed the fact that I hated the look he was giving them and the way they ran their hands up and down his arm.

“You think she’s gonna show?” Sam asked next to me, pulling me from my thoughts.

I looked at him quickly and I could see he was a bit worried and deeply focused. He wanted the witch to show up, but didn’t want his brother to get hurt. I felt the same.

“Well, I hope so but I also hope she’ll hurry up so we can get it over with before anyone else gets killed.” I told him, before looking back at Dean, who’d turned to look for us.

He searched through the crowd a bit before spotting us sitting in a booth at the end of the bar. When our eyes locked, Dean quickly winked at me and I allowed myself to give him a smile in return. He grinned a little before going back to his drink, scanning the people around him to find our target.

“I have a bad feeling about this.” Sam confessed and I stopped looking at his brother to focus on the worried man on my left.

His eyes were fixed on Dean and his brows slightly furrowed. He looked truly tense and he hadn’t taken a single sip of his drink the whole time we’d been here. I lowered my eyes for a second and saw him wringing his hands in his lap, evidence of just how concerned he was. So, I gently put a reassuring hand on his forearm and he looked at me.

“Hey, it’s not the first time we’ve done something like this, right? Once she shows up, we’re gonna follow them outside and get rid of her. Everything’s gonna be fine. And Dean isn’t some random guy; he’s a hunter. He knows how to defend himself.” I told him, offering him a comforting smile that he accepted.

Sighing, he lowered his head and looked at his hands, probably thinking about my words. I wondered what else I could say to reassure him as he pushed a hand through his hair. He was worried and I understood that worry all too well, I was worried too. But before I could add anything, he nodded and straightened up, seemingly getting some of his confidence back.

“You’re right. It’s not our first time on a case like this. We just have to keep an eye on Dean and everything’s gonna be f-” Sam abruptly stopped speaking when he turned his head towards the counter.

The hunter immediately stood up and I quickly followed his movements, trying to understand what was going on. But when I turned around and saw the empty spot where Dean was supposed to be sitting, my eyes widened and my heart squeezed.

I quickly climbed out of the booth and scanned the crowd for Dean, pushing some people out of my way, cursing at them for not paying attention to the people around them. Once I finally reached his seat, I noticed a half-drunk martini with some red lipstick on the rim of the glass, and another glass half full of whiskey. There were some bills laying on the counter.

I turned around, hoping to see the hunter somewhere in the bar but unfortunately, he was nowhere to be seen. When a waitress walked pass me, I stopped her by carefully grabbing her elbow.

“Did you see the guy who was sitting here earlier?” I asked her quickly and she let a smile spread on her lips.

“Oh yeah, I saw him alright, he just left. He probably won’t spend the night alone. Lucky girl.” She said dreamily and I growled before hurrying to the door. I was hoping I wasn’t too late and that I’d find them both outside.

But the moment I stepped outside, I was only met with the darkness of the night. The warm and humid air crashed on my face and the only things I could see clearly were the constellations in the sky and a street lamp a few feet away from me, illuminating the parking lot. I quickly walked towards it, trying to locate the hunter. I let a small sigh of relief when I spotted the black Impala still parked there.

But there was still no sign of Dean.

I looked around for signs of a struggle near his beloved car but couldn’t see anything. But when I reached the black vehicle, I glimpsed something shining on the ground. I kneeled down and grabbed the shiny objects on the ground. When my fingers touched the cold keys, I sighed in defeat. Dean would never have abandoned his Baby, and he was always so careful with her keys, so if I found them on the ground, it could only mean that he’d left them here for us to find. I cursed myself for letting him be bait. It was never a good idea.

In one last attempt to see if he was still here, I cupped my hands around my mouth and screamed. “Dean !”

It was a few seconds before I saw a familiar silhouette coming around from the back of the bar and jogging towards me. My breath stuck in my throat when the light illuminated Sam’s face. A bit out of breath, the tall hunter shook his head at me and my heart squeezed.

We’d lost him.

“Sam, calm down, please. I know what I’m doing.” I said to the nervous man in the driver’s seat next to me.

“But you said it yourself, it’s been a long time since you used this.” Sam replied, worry in his voice.

After making sure Dean wasn’t anywhere inside or outside of the bar, we tried to locate his phone, but unfortunately, it must have been broken or dead because we couldn’t find any signal coming from it.

So we needed another way to find the hunter. We considered interrogating the customers outside, but we both agreed that it would probably just be a waste of time rather than a real option. So, I decided to take the pendulum I always kept in my bag and use it as a homemade compass to guide us to Dean.

It was true that I hadn’t used such a magical object in a long time but I was truly convinced it would lead us to the missing Winchester. It was our only hope anyway. So, I raised the pendulum a little higher in front of me, observing its movements going from right to left then back and front.

Watching the object swing in all directions, a part of me worried that it was just swaying along with the movement of the car and that this weird gadget was going to be of no use. But another part of me, a stronger and more confident part, truly believed it would work. So, I concentrated harder on the enchanted, green pendant and murmured the words Lady Salina had taught me during my time with her.

“Amisi quod amo. Redi ad me quod amo.”

I felt Sam’s eyes on me, probably starting to translate the words, but I ignored him. The more I stared at the pendant the more I felt the magic Lady Salina had put into it, awakening.

I remembered the day she’d put a spell on it. It was a warm and sunny day like today and I was looking for a book my mom had given me. When I accepted the fact that I had lost it forever, the brown-haired witch had come to me and offered me this pendulum. She told me she’d enchanted this pendulum so it would lead me to where my heart truly was, and that if I properly repeated her words, it would guide me to my lost things or the ones that were stolen from me. But I had never used it to find a human before.

I chanted the words over and over again until the pendulum stopped moving and was drawn tight. I waited a second, looking at the pendant starting to glow until it suddenly pointed to the right.

“Turn to the right, Sam.” I said quickly, and the hunter drove the car where the pendulum was pointing.

Once we were on the right road, the pendulum clearly showed us the way, moving to the right or left, indicating to Sam the path he had to take. After about fifteen minutes, the magical object slowed down when we reached a dirt road.

We continued to drive for a few miles until we reached an old farm. The building looked completely abandoned but we both knew it wasn’t. Sam parked the Impala behind some trees and I let go of the pendulum; it had been pointing at the farm. Putting it back in my bag, I pulled my gun out and looked at Sam.

Taking a breath, he nodded at me and quietly got out of the car. I followed him to the trunk and he opened it, searching for the Witch Killing Bullets. I took some and loaded my gun with them. Sam did the same and carefully closed the trunk.

“I take the front, you take the back?” Sam whispered to me and I nodded.

“Be careful.” I told him and he nodded back before putting a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

Watching Sam walking carefully to the front door, I took a deep breath and squeezed the weapon in my hand, before heading to the back of the barn. Everything was too quiet to be safe, not a bird was singing, no sounds of the forest were echoing far away. The only sound was // my boots crushing the gravel under my weight.

When I reached the back door, I stayed quiet, trying to hear if anyone was inside but unfortunately, I was only met with silence. So, I cautiously put a hand on the big wooden door and half opened it, aiming my gun in case of an attack.

But once again, nothing moved or made a sound.

When I entered the barn, my boots flattened some dry hay on my way, making it crunching sound. My weapon still raised, I carefully looked around. The rays of the moon slightly illuminating the area, not requiring my flashlight to be turned on. With a few more steps, I saw some chairs around a wooden table and noticed some vials, herbs of all kinds and an old grimoire. Everything needed for a good sacrifice.

But still no sign of life.

I continued my journey through the shed and the more I walked the more the smell of death filled my nostrils. I frowned at the scent and looked around, searching for this odor and hoping with all my heart that I wasn’t going to find any human body, but especially not Dean’s.

I distinguished a shape on a smaller table and walked to it, taking my flashlight out of my jacket.

I turned it on and immediately illuminated the table, cursing when it revealed a burst opened rabbit sitting on top. Bringing a hand to cover my mouth and my nose, I shook my head in disgust at the organs of the poor animal spread on the furniture.

“Ugh! So it’s a Sacrificing-Thumper kind of witch.” I whispered before continuing to inspect the place.

Once I made sure no one was there, I spotted another door with some warm light coming from under it. I walked to it, turning my flashlight off so I wouldn’t get caught, and carefully turned the knob. This time, the room was illuminated with candles, warming the place. But when I opened the door wider, the lights showed a long dark shadow on the wall opposite of me.

My heart beat faster while I entered the room, ready to shoot anything that moved. But when I took another step, I noticed the shadow wasn’t moving and was hanging by a thread – or maybe a rope.

My blood ran cold at the idea of finding Dean. No, it wasn’t an option. I wasn’t going to find his dead body and certainly not this way.

In a swift movement I turned to the left and found myself in front of the hanged body but instead of the horror I was preparing myself to see, I only met Dean’s broad shape hanging upside down and suspended by his feet. The rope tied his boots together and snaked down his body, holding his arms against his sides, preventing him from moving at all.

“Dean!” I yelled out recklessly before hurrying to the immobile man.

When I reached his side and the candles lit up my face, Dean turned his head, allowing me to see his red grumpy face. As simple as it was, this expression on his face brought me immense relief, because it meant that he wasn’t hurt or under a spell. He was just, understandably, upset.

Witches definitely had a thing for him.

“Muuuumuuum !” Dean tried to talk around the gag but the strip of cloth prevented him from making any sense.

I quickly grabbed the end of the fabric covering his mouth and undid the knot behind his head. Once he was free of it, Dean let a breath out and my heart finally slowed down.

“Son of a bitch! I told you!” He growled and I quickly covered his mouth with my hand, smiling at his grumpy face and he frowned at me.

He was definitely himself.

“I know, I know. You were right and it is definitely the kind of witch you don’t like but she’s still out there so stop making noise.” I told him and he nodded as much as he could.

I moved my hand away and scanned the area to try and find a way to bring him down without hurting him or making too much noise.

“Where is Sam?” Dean asked me, obviously worried about his brother.

I looked back at him and saw the concern on his features. Even when he was the one kidnapped, Dean was still always worried about his little brother.

“He took the front door; he’s probably taking care of the witch right now.” I explained, offering a reassuring smile.

Then I walked to a table and cleared off every object and paper on it, planning to use it to help Dean.

“I swear, I hate witches. I hate magic. Next time we have a case like this we give it to someone else. Maybe Garth, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.” The elder hunter said as I tried to quietly pull the table towards him. The legs of the table creaked against the wooden floor and I cursed under my breath.

It wasn’t the time to draw attention.

“You know, magic saved your unsuperpower-y ass, ‘super-handsome’.” I sarcastically stated. “Maybe you shouldn’t be so close-minded about it; it can actually come in handy.”

He scoffed, probably thinking I was joking. But when I stopped and turned to glare at him, he understood I was serious.

“Really?” He asked slowly, a bit unsure, and I nodded, a little smile on my lips.

“Yep.” I answered, starting to pull the table again.

“So, you did put a spell on me after all.” He joked and I rolled my eyes, still tugging at the furniture, creating some high-pitched sounds every now and then.

“You’re an idiot.” I told him simply as I finally managed to get the table under his head.

Now that the furniture was under him, I would be able to untie him without making him fall to the ground from five feet in the air.

So, I climbed up on the table, testing the sturdiness of it before putting my feet on it too. I came closer to the tied-up hunter and kneeled under him. I grabbed the knife from my boot, and cut the ropes caging him. Carefully, I started to slice the rope next to his arm and before I could prevent myself, I let my thoughts out.

“Everything happened so fast, you disappeared so quickly. One second you were sitting at the counter and the next you were gone. But we were sure we’d lost you when we found Baby’s keys.” I explained, getting at the middle of the rope.

“Were you worried?” Dean asked and I bit my lip to prevent me from answering anything, acting like I was deeply focused on cutting the ropes without hurting him, which was true.

Dean must have sensed my reluctance to answer because he didn’t push, letting me work on the rope. Once one rope broke I started working on the one under it. The only sound heard was the blade against the fabric.

Until the hunter spoke up.

“You know… maybe I was a bit judgmental. With witches, I mean…” He started and I slowed down, lowering my head a little to see him better.

Dean wasn’t looking at me, his eyes glancing around the room for a second, trying to avoid my gaze.

“Oh yeah?” I answered and his eyes locked with mine sending a spark to my heart.

Still staring at me, the hunter licked his lips and slightly nodded at me.

“Yeah.” He said simply and the ropes around his torso broke, freeing his arms.

He let a grunt out when they fell and growled when he still couldn’t touch the table with his hands, his fingers inches from it. It was a bit funny to see him desperately try to reach it and I let out a little chuckle at the sight.

But I quickly stopped when his hands grabbed my waist, steadying himself and sending a shiver down my body. He let out a frustrated sigh , blowing some of my hair with his hot breath and I sat on the table to stabilize myself. When I raised my head, the older hunter was looking at me and hardly swallowed as his eyes met mine.

The green orbs stared at me and the flames reflecting in them made him look more beautiful than ever, even if his face was upside down and was starting to redden. The silence surrounding us created a new tension between us and I looked around, straightening up a little, trying to avoid this new feeling in my stomach.

But Dean cleared his throat, catching my attention again and when I looked at him again, he bit his lower lip.

“I have a confession to make.” He declared, licking his lips in a nervous way.

I rarely saw Dean, being shy and nervous, so I bit the inside of my cheeks to prevent myself from letting out a nervous laugh and possibly stopping him from opening up to me. I lowered myself as much as I could, so I could see him better, and I nodded to let him know I was listening. My heart beat a bit faster, my mind wondering, hopeful about what kind of confession he wanted to make.

Dean stared at me for a second before letting a little smile spread his full lips.

“You’ve got a funny face upside down like this.” He laughed and I rolled my eyes, annoyed at the fake revelation; a feeling of disappointment in my chest that I quickly tried to erase.

“You’re an idiot.” I said simply and naturally pushed his chest like every time he was being stupid. But this time, his hands lost their grip on my waist and he swung away from me.

“Crap.” I breathed out and jumped off the table to catch him but when he swung my way, his forehead hit mine and we both cursed. But at least I was able to stop him.

When he stopped swinging, I touched my forehead, closing my eyes, trying to ease the pain. I slowly rubbed the sensitive skin, hoping it wouldn't get too red. When the pain started to fade, I felt something warm touching my cheek and I suddenly opened my eyes, meeting Dean’s. A breath got stuck in my throat for a second when I noticed the sweet little smile tracing his lips.

“You didn’t hurt yourself too much, did you?” He softly asked and I smiled back at him, shaking my head. His thumb brushed my cheekbone in a gentle gesture.

“Nah, I have a hard skull.” I joked and he let out a little snort.

“Yeah, and I’m sure you have a little spell to ease your pain if needed.” He declared, an annoying smirk at the corner of his lips.

Letting a sigh escape, I rolled my eyes. Even when he was tied up, upside down and a bit hurt, Dean didn’t let go of the subject. And, to be honest, I’d had enough of this battle for the day.

“Listen. I know you despise and hate witches, that they clearly have a thing for you considering all the troubles you get into because of them, but can we let the topic go for today? I know your opinion on them but I just want to get you out of here, find Sam, get rid of her and go home.” I declared, willing to let him win for once if it meant he would shut up about it for a while.

Even if I didn’t consider myself a witch and knew he didn’t see me like one either, I was tired of fighting with him over the same thing for a whole day. I liked our bickering, it kept us entertained, but sometimes I just wanted a truce and stop arguing about such a silly thing. But maybe it was actually because I was a bit afraid that he truly, deeply hated them and everyone who had any kind of friendly behavior towards them.

I stepped back a little, my back hitting the table and Dean’s hand fell from my face.

“Hey, are you mad at me?” He asked, confusion clear in his voice.

I let a breath out and shook my head, looking back at him. I smiled slightly at his still upside-down face.

“No, of course not. I’ve just had enough of your hate for witches for today, if you wouldn’t mind.” I explained and Dean stared at me for a second, licking his bottom lip.

I ignored his eyes on me and sat back on the table, ready to take care of the others ropes. Dean shouldn’t stay upside-down for too long. So I grabbed my knife again and started to cut the ties around his torso, still not paying attention to the hunter’s gaze.

“You know… maybe witches don’t have a thing for me. Maybe I have a thing for them.” Dean broke the silence and I raised my eyebrows in confusion.

“What?”

“Well, only for one of them, really.” He continued and I slowed down my movements a little, wondering where he was going with this.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, confusion and wonder all over my face.

Dean clenched his jaw, looking away for a second, and I frowned. He’d had the same facial expression a few minutes ago just to mess with me. So, this time I stayed on my guard a little, not wanting to misunderstand his words again.

The hunter cleared his throat and bit his lip for moment before looking back at me. His eyes met mine and something in the way he looked at me seemed sincere. I furrowed my eyebrows again, waiting for Dean to explain what he meant by that. He pursed his lips like he was hesitating.

But then, as if he had a sudden burst of courage, Dean took a deep breath and properly locked eyes with me.

“Actually, she’s not a really a witch. But she knows the basics.” He simply said and something in my stomach made it tighten.

I froze, letting his words, words that echoed mine, sink in. I was waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to burst in laughter, to make another joking comment. But nothing happened. Dean simply looked at me, his eyes quickly going from my right one to the other. Without my consent, my heart beat faster, quivering at the idea of the hunter saying he had a thing for me.

It was no secret that we were close but none of us had actually said something about it. He was the full hunter and I was the half witch, the two of us killing the same monsters but always finding ourselves in conflict over the same thing.

But at this moment, with the heavy silence he was letting linger over us and the lack of laughter, I couldn’t help but truly hope he was serious. Because if he was planning on showing me his cocky smile and giving me a stupid joke, it wouldn’t only be my hint of hope that he was breaking.

“Are you messing with me again?” I asked, not wanting disillusionment to hit me right in the face if all of this was just another prank.

But Dean answered my question with just a shake of his head and a sweet smile. I felt myself blush at the realization and my hands got a bit sweaty. Every ounce of worry and denial was gone the second he gave me this simple, gentle grin and like a school girl I pushed a few strands of my hair behind my ear.

“Really?” I whispered, needing a vocal confirmation from him.

“Yeah, really. I think I’ve had a thing for her for a while now.” He answered, his voice no louder than mine.

I slowly got off the table to be at the same height as him and this time a huge smile wreathed my face.

“Can I tell you a secret?” I asked him, getting a bit closer to him and he quickly nodded, eager to know.

“She may like a hunter too, and it’s not Sasquatch.” I told him and he let out a little laugh, a sigh of relief escaping him.

I smirked at the idea of Dean worrying a bit about whether I liked him or not. Even if it was truly stupid to think I didn’t. Even Sam was aware of the tension between us, not that either of us had confirmed that of course. But now we were actually declaring the attraction we had for each other. No jokes. No misunderstanding. Only truth and shyness in our confessions.

The hand of the hunter interrupted my thoughts, a warm palm landing on my shoulder and a finger caressing my chin. I raised my head and the light of the candles illuminated the freckles on his soft skin, the flames reflecting in his green iris and creating some golden rings around his pupils. My breath got jammed in my throat at the sight.

Dean Winchester was truly handsome, no matter the lighting or his position.

Without adding another word, Dean gently pulled on my shoulder to bring me closer to him and my feet gladly lead me towards the hunter. For a second we looked at each other, hesitation and want clear in our eyes. The older brother and I had never looked at each other this way and a thrill// ran down my spine.

Still silent and without even thinking about my action, I raised my hands to his face and gently cupped it. Dean didn’t move at all, his green orbs staring at me and I started to lean towards him. When I didn’t sense any disagreement in his eyes, I smiled and he copied me, smiling wide.

In an instant, my face was inches away from his and I felt his hot breath landing on my lips, tickling them. I let my fingers brush his cheeks, caressing the freckles on them and Dean’s hands slide down my body, stopping on my waist as much as he could. Then, as if a mystical force had pushed me forward, my lips crashed onto Dean’s.

My nose bumped against his chin and his brushed the top of my throat. My hands flat against his cheeks, I slowly opened my mouth, catching his upper lip between mine. The moment I felt his calloused palms roaming on my body and the tip of his tongue asking for permission, a bright warmth invaded my body, sending an electrical wave from my belly to the hair on the back of my neck.

Our lips molded against each other, the kiss slow but deepening with every movement of our heads. I could have gotten lost in his kisses forever.

We had never crossed that line before. Sure, we’d had some lingering touches from time to time but now that I knew how his lips felt against mine, I was afraid I could never stop doing it. I could never stop feeling them brush mine, his tongue battling against mine for dominance even though I would gladly let him win if it meant he would kiss me all day and night from now on. I was afraid that I could never let him go now that I had been that close to him.

Dean let a small groan out as I unconsciously sucked at his bottom lip and I smiled against the plump pillows that were his lips. The hunter tried to kiss me harder but I was still holding his head between my palms, controlling his movements. I felt him complain when he tightened his grip on my t-shirt.

I couldn’t lie and say that I wasn’t enjoying the sense of power I had over him at the moment.

I let my fingers spread through his spiky hair at the base of his neck, enjoying every lock brushing my soft skin and, surprisingly, I felt him relax against my touch. Dean could easily get on my nerves because of a stupid grin, but he could also melt my heart with a simple sigh of relaxation. The hunter spent so much time on edge, worried and focused on everyone’s safety, that feeling him let his guard down under my hands was a blessing.

My thoughts were abruptly stopped when I heard two gunshots far away.

Immediately pulling away – panting – Dean and I stared at each other, eyes wide opened. The only emotion passing through the hunter’s eyes was fear, complete and dreadful fear. My heart beat faster but not thanks to the man in front of me this time.

“Sammy.” We called out at the same time, panic clear in our voices.

Without wasting a second, Dean grabbed the ropes around his body and pulled at them, desperately trying to break them. With the strength he always got when Sam was in danger, I thought for moment that he was actually going to break them with his bare hands. But unfortunately, he didn’t succeed and shouted in frustration, making me flinch.

“Get them the fuck off of me!” He yelled, frenetically moving, his body swinging a little from one side to the other.

I immediately got on the table and quickly used the knife against the ropes around his body, some dust of the fabric falling in his eyes but the hunter couldn’t care less at this moment. I hurried to free him of those links but my hands couldn’t move fast enough, making Dean growl and wriggle against the ropes.

Then finally, they broke.

The ropes fell from his torso, landing on the ground and without waiting a second, the hunter curled up to reach his feet, in order to undo the knots at his ankles. A sharp breath got stuck in my throat when I realized the strength Dean needed – and clearly had – to be able to contract his abs this way and touch his feet.

Watching Dean almost shaking in his panic, I tried to rationalize the situation, thinking that witches used spells to kill, not guns. So, it was more likely that the sound we heard was Sam shooting the witch and not the other way around. Yeah, it was the only solution.

I was about to say this to the man in front of me to try and call him down a little, to reassure him on his brother’s condition when we heard someone outside.

“Dean? Y/N?” The younger brother yelled from the other side of the barn and I let a loud sigh of relief escape. Dean let go of his ankles and quickly let himself fall back, closing his eyes; he looked reassured by the sound of his brother’s voice.

I turned towards the door and yelled back to Sam.

“We’re in the barn!”

Then some running sounds were heard, indicating that the hunter had heard me and was now heading to the barn.

“Thank God.” Dean whispered next to me and I looked back at him.

His eyes were still closed, probably too afraid that if he opened them now I would see how worried he had been for a second. But truth was, I had been scared too. So I simply let my index finger graze his cheek, and then get lost in his hair in a comforting gesture, letting him know that I’d felt the same way. The hunter opened his eyes and I immediately knew he had understood me.

He offered me a small smile that I immediately gave back.

“Come on, Peter Parker let’s get you down, shall we?” I told him in a mocking tone and the hunter mumbled under his breath, making a face.

I let out a chuckle and stepped back up on the table, straightening to grasp the knots around his boots. The hunter tried to touch the table but once again, he was too high to do so. Undoing the first knot, I heard the door slam open and someone panting behind me. I quickly turned around and spotted the younger Winchester, his chest raising and falling rapidly, out of breath, his gun in his large hand. I smiled in relief and he nodded at me.

We were all very glad that everyone was alive.

Then Sam noticed his brother behind me and burst into laughter, his voice higher while he was slightly bent, laughing. When he didn’t stop, I couldn’t help but join him, my cheeks hurting as I smiled widely. Of course, the suspended man didn’t find this funny at all and grumbled in annoyance, trying to undo the rope himself again as I had stopped, too busy making fun of him.

“Ugh, will you stop and help me?” He asked, clearly not happy.

“Ahah! So much for the great responsibility, man. Still wanna be bait next time?” Sam asked his brother, who finally let go of his feet, letting out a frustrated breath.

“Screw you.” Dean said and I shook my head, amused by the brothers.

Then I decided to finally put him out of his misery and found the last knot holding him.

“Watch out for your head.” I said quickly and before Dean could finish the ‘what’ escaping his lips, I undid the last ropes and he let out a small scream when he felt himself fall.

In an instinctive reaction, my hands reached for the falling hunter and in a reflex gesture he grabbed me back, dragging me down with him. I let a yelp escape me and suddenly felt myself hit a firm surface.

When I opened the eyes I hadn’t even realized I’d closed in the first place, I met some green orbs. I let a shy smile spread across my lips when I realized I was laying on top of the strong hunter. Dean’s arms were securely wrapped around my body, his hands holding me against him. Even if he had brought me along in his fall, Dean’s back had taken all the pain, preventing me from getting hurt.

I slowly moved to have a better look at him and he furrowed his eyebrows, showing that he had definitely hurt himself in the process. My face softened at this and I gently rubbed his shoulder with my thumb, giving him some comfort.

“Still alive?” Sam asked on the other side of the table and I realized that Dean hadn’t just hit the floor but also the table on his way down. I chuckled, raising my head towards Sam.

“Yeah, I had a shock absorber.” I answered and looked back at Dean who was trying to get up. But when he moved, the pain in his back must have woken up as he frowned, slightly grunting.

He managed to sit up, his hands leaving my body and pressing to the ground to steady himself. I was now sitting on his lap and I felt a warmth invading my stomach and spreading to my cheeks. Dean hissed when he completely straightened and his face lost the redness of all the blood that had rushed into his head while he was upside down. Then he brought one of his hands behind him, rubbing the ache in his back.

Gently, my palm landed on his torso and he immediately stared at me. I smiled at him.

“Don’t worry, I have a spell for back pain.” I told him with a wink.

The hunter blessed me with a huge grin, making the wrinkles around his eyes appear and I blushed at how cute he was in this moment. Dean put his hands back on my hips and drew some circles with his thumbs.

“I’m saved then, lovely Witch.” He answered simply.

The look in his eyes was different this time. There was still the usual mischief, of course, but something was hidden behind it. Something like peace of mind and trust. And all of this was for the girl who loved to be right and get on his nerves. For the half witch he always loved to annoy and pretend to dislike. For the one who always helped him on hunt and made sure he was alright after a rough one. For the girl who shared her fries with him but ate his pie. For the one who teamed up with Sammy to upset him but loved to go on drive in his Baby.

It was all for me.

Maybe I was going to have what those one nightstands couldn’t have after all.

All of him.

Taglist : @emilielbls @avanatural @awkward-and-indecisive @waynes-multiverse @roonyxx @akshi8278 @snowlovespie @thoughts-and-funnies @siospins2

#Don't Mess With Witches #avanaturals300celebration #Dean x reader #Dean Winchester x reader #Dean x you #Dean x y/n #supernatural os #Supernatural fanfic #spn os #spn fanfic #Dean Winchester Fanfic

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alovelyburn · 1 year

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I was wondering who your top five favorite Berserk characters are and why you like them? My bad if you’ve gotten this ask before.

Not in a few years! 1-3 are easy for me, it just gets tough after that because at that point there are a lot of characters I like without any of them standing out as particularly more amazing than the others.

...this is very long.

Guts Despite I guess being more of a vocal Griffith advocate, Guts is actually my favorite character not just in Berserk but in Manga as a whole, and arguably in..... fiction. I mean I can't think of anyone I like more offhand, anyway. As for why... I'm generally fond of the kind of character that he is: a complex personality with a lot of heavy issues, rage and emotional struggles. If you look at any media with a Guts-like character I probably like them - Auron, Senji Kiyomasa, Jason Todd, whatever, they're just my kind of thing but Guts is really the granddaddy of that type and he's more nuanced and interesting than any of the other ones I've personally run across. Jason kind of skirts close sometimes but it depends on the writer... and Western franchise comics are just less consistent by nature. There's also the Punisher but he's a homicidal maniac.

So, even though I like this type in general, it's sort of rare that they're the actual protagonist right, like usually the protagonist is some teenager and the broody complicated guy is like the mentor, or a scary guy they have to deal with or, in the case of a romance usually the love interest. That doesn't stop them from being fun characters that I like, but it does tend to limit how much exploration they get.

I appreciate that he's a protagonist who isn't always a nice or admirable person - that he makes mistakes and hates himself for it, that he sees his own monstrousness and struggles to control it and sometimes gives in to it (or even makes use of it). And the coexistence of his sometimes seemingly contradictory traits - his protectiveness vs the way he hurts people, his desire to belong vs his tendency to abandon, his insecurity and his cocky swag, his uncertainty vs his steel will - also makes for a multifaceted personality. Miura said he designed characters with a mind toward what they'd bring out in Guts and as a result, Guts has a lot brought out in him, I guess. Generally speaking the more complicated a character is the more interested I'll be in them anyway. This is something that's going to come up with Griffith as well, but I also have an attraction to moral ambiguity. I genuinely believe he's capable of being just as cruel, just as monstrous, as Griffith ever was (and vice versa) - and in a lot of ways we've already seen him do that - it's just that I guess a lot of people don't register it that way because his specific priorities better align with their sympathies and also he's the protagonist so people will tend to side with him anyway. But that... doesn't change that he's a person who will use a child as monster bait, or that he sexually assaulted a woman he's supposed to be protecting, or that he let the pilgrim camps around the tower of conviction get sucked into hell in order to get his ex back. It doesn't change that he's selfish and cruel sometimes.

Traditionally I also tend to be drawn to characters who kind of defy I guess stereotypical gender...norms? Guts in a lot of ways is a classic masculine type, but I appreciate that he isn't the no-emo badass that, I guess, he gets perceived as by some people. I love that he cries more than most of the characters in the series, or that his primary motivation is heartbreak over Griffith betraying him. That his rage is more cope than anything else.

I always say he'd reconcile with Griffith if he had a chance, as we know, but if you think about it that's kind of a dick move, I mean Griffith did feed the Hawks to demons and rape Casca in front of him. But that doesn't mean I dislike that I feel he'd do it, on the contrary, that just makes his emotional workings more interesting to me because it's a little desperate and sad, and a little selfish and monstrous, and I think he'd... know that it was a dick move and that he's a little pathetic for being willing to do it. And I think he'd struggle with it and hate himself for it. But I still think he'd do it. Which is interesting to me.

I also love that he's not motivated by romance. It's a rare gem of a thing, and I mean I do obviously believe he has romantic feelings for both Casca and Griffith, but even with that being the case I don't think his romantic feelings for either are his true motivators - he's not attached to Casca just because she's the woman he was planning to be with, he's attached to her because she represents the Hawks in his head. And while his feelings for Griffith have a romantic component I do think it's just one color in a massive storm of feelings. I always think Griffith is in love with Guts, whereas Guts loves Griffith which includes also having romantic feelings for him but it's not necessarily the primary driving force in those feelings.

Also, I really love a stone-cold badass. I've never been a person who automatically gloms onto the underdog, I guess; I know a lot of people are inherently turned off by overpowered characters or characters who rarely lose or whatever, but that just doesn't bother me, I love watching a character cut through an army solo, it's just fun for me.

Along the same lines, I love that he's relentless and can't and won't be stopped. This is kind of an interesting one because I feel like for a lot of people a big chunk of his appeal is that he is always kind of struggling against larger forces and he gets fucked up and he takes hits but keeps going. Whereas for me, the part that appeals to me is just... that he keeps going, whether that means fighting and fighting and never taking a hit or taking hits and getting back up is less important to me than the fact that he's always continuing to go.

And I like the way he mouths off to gods and demons.

Griffith Even though Guts is my favorite, I do actually think Griffith is Miura's master creation. The subtlety of his characterization, the ambiguity that sometimes ripples back just enough to reveal the edge of this vast and complicated personality and the way the reader is left to connect the dots is really fascinating to me - though I do wish people were better about connecting the dots instead of drawing over them.

I say this a lot, but Griffith is the one who actually embodies the reasons I love Berserk the work itself, the world, the philosophy behind it, etc. That someone like him can break is evidence that anyone can break. That someone as good as he is can be cruel is evidence that anyone can be cruel. That someone as terrible as he is can be kind is evidence that anyone can be kind. He encompasses the breadth and depth of humanity in Berserk's world, in all its beauty and all its hideousness.

I love every Griffith, though I do think all of them are distinct in their own ways.

During the Hawks Era, there is a certain innocence to him that persists despite the things he sees and does. He is... childish, I mean honestly, when I think about Griffith in the Golden Age this is maybe the main thing that comes to mind? Because he can be the adult in the room, he can be the genius strategist, the brilliant combatant, he can be serious when he needs to but these are all roles, and when his guards are down (mostly around Guts) his reserve melts and he's expressive and silly and playful and ultimately his self-image is literally that of a barefoot child.

That kind of informs a certain earnest purity that comes through in the way he sees the world and the feelings he has about things or people, and the specifics of the ambitions he holds. Even some of the things that people use against him - the piles of corpses you could say - are things that by the standard of the day really aren't anything he needs to feel bad about, but he's tormented by them to the point where guilt ultimately becomes arguably the driving force behind his actions more than the original ambition that created those corpses to begin with.

I think in the end, what drove Hawks Griffith was still a kind of kid looking at the castle kind of idealism - the dream of self-discovery intermingled with the yearning to build the kind of world that wouldn't make people go through the things he did. The issue is that in a more realistic world, as Berserk has tended to be (magic and stuff aside), that is hard to sustain.

You know what he reminds me of? For anyone familiar with Fate/ there's a thing about Artoria/Saber where she became a martyr to her own Kingdom because she ended up living for the country and sacrificing for the country which made her increasingly dehumanized and Gilgamesh, charmer that he is, realizes she's trying to carry the world on her shoulders he basically determines that she's inevitably going to be crushed under the weight of her own self-imposed burden, which he thinks is hot. Aside from the hotness of it, that always reminded me of Hawks Griffith - the way he tried to carry the Hawks on his back and never let them see that he was imperfect, the way he lived to maintain that image so they had something to believe in, and the way it strained the man underneath.

And that! Is! FASCINATING, look as much as I love Guts for being basically made of steel, I also love Griffith for not being as mentally resilient as Guts is - in fact so many of the reasons I glommed onto Griffith are the direct opposite of reasons I love Guts - so much of Griffith's character is driven by his feelings for Guts, especially during the Golden Age, and I find that to be just as fascinating as Guts' romantic ambivalence. In so many ways Griffith seems larger than life and inhumanly perfect - invincible like he can withstand anything, but all that strength can't hold him up when his heart breaks. In the end its his fragile human heart that is his downfall every time. And the breakable interior underneath his epic hero exterior makes for an interesting cocktail.

This is getting too long so I'm going to try to be brief with Neo - obviously he embodies the larger cosmic themes of Berserk even more than Hawks Griffith does - but I also find him fascinating as the fallout from everything that went on with Hawks Griffith. Because Griffith tried so hard to be a person who lived for his dreams and wasn't battered about by his emotions but he couldn't manage it and so when he's remade in the image he desires he becomes the thing he wanted to be, and its beautiful and epic and inspiring but also kind of hollow and sad. Griffith lives in the fallout from making the wish with the consequences he didn't expect, and it's interesting because it's not wholly clear how much he realizes what he's lost - how much he feels it - until the external imposition of factors that bring his emotions back full force for those shreds of time between transformations.

Farnese She's been my third favorite for... ages. That said, she's not Guts or Griffith so I don't have as much to say about her. I just think she's an interesting character - the changes that take place in her as she tries to reinvent herself are really cool to me.

If you line the events we know up chronologically you get a pretty cohesive story about this emotionally abandoned girl who cycles through various forms of trying to locate herself and her place in the world and forming kind of frantic dependencies on various copium flavors until she is ultimately forced to face the lie that her life had been, at which point she has to start over from nothing. I think that's a cool and very human story. Also, it's interesting to me to see this person who, when we first meet her, seems so powerful (in a political sense) and determined have all those masks torn down until you see the terrified lost person inside all the trappings... and then to see her build herself back up, but in the way she chooses and through the means she desires, having finally been untethered from the obligation and demands of her family or the church.

Farnese is kind of a normal person to me, you know? Like Guts and Griffith are Epic Heroes - they're Made Differently in that heroic form. And people like Serpico are kind of skirting the edges between normal and epic - I'd call him kind of a normal hero as opposed to an epic hero and then there's Farnese who is very cool yes, but ultimately also a basically normal person. And watching her grow and adjust in this world that is deeply hostile to normal people - not just the Berserk world as a whole but the specific path that she goes onto by following Guts - is A+ entertainment for me. It also makes her admirable, because she was born to such extreme wealth and could have had such an easy life if she decided to put her tail between her legs and run home, but she didn't.

So... yeah I mean I think it's a good arc.

From here the short list was Charlotte, Serpico, Zodd and Rickert.

Charlotte I talked a lot about why I like her so much pretty recently, but to quickly recap... I enjoy watching her develop from a sheltered shy shrinking violet into someone who is, while still very gentle and quiet, far stronger and more resilient than one would have expected. I love that she has these progressive views - I assume she got most of them from her father who was quite progressive as well before he lost his damn mind, but it means she and Griffith are aligned on a lot of political views.The risks she takes to save Griffith, the way she loves him even when he's lost everything and can't talk anymore, the way she's able to fight off the King without assistance and protect herself for the year that follows... it works for me. She's a different type of character than someone like Guts or even someone like Farnese, and of course she doesn't get a lot of screentime since she's a relatively small character, but I've seen a lot of growth in her. I also think she's adorable and her romantic fantasy version of the world is kind of... just. Interesting. It's interesting when one character is in a different genre of story than everyone else, I don't know.

Rickert He stole Zodd's spot. Mostly because I always like that "last of the old Guard" type of character, and I find his emotional struggle where Griffith is concerned really interesting. In a lot of ways it echoes Guts' struggle, albeit without the UST. The bit where he smacked Griffith - that whole scene and everything leading up to and after it, is one of my favorite parts of the series - I love that despite knowing what Griffith has done, he still wavered on the edge of whether to stand with him or not. I also love that he decided not to, and that at the same time he still holds his reverence and love for the Griffith who used to be, even though he can't accept the Griffith who is. Even then after that, he's still reluctant to believe Griffith would have him killed - which I think he's right to doubt, because I'm so sure it was Locus who did that. Anyway, he doesn't do much - rather he does a fair amount but he does it in spurts and then vanishes for years at a time - but I'm always glad to see him when he shows up.

Serpico is still on the edge for me right now, but I've been warming to him more during the current reread, I guess because I had to think about him more than I normally do. So I wouldn't be shocked if he eventually overtook Charlotte or Rickert - not sure which. I just need to see more of him/think more about him to get a sense of where he falls for me.

I also think that if we get the full backstory on Skull Knight and Void there is a high chance that they'll just knock the bottom two off entirely and give me a legitimately solid Top 5 instead of, honestly, a Top 3 + extras.

#ask #hawkfawun #ariel talks about berserk

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watching-pictures-move · 1 year

Text

Movie Review | House on Bare Mountain (Frost & Bishop, 1962)

This review contains mild spoilers.

The opening credits announce that this stars "Lovable Bob Cresse as Granny Good", and having watched the whole movie, I think that adjective is a tad generous. Bob Cresse is the exploitation pioneer, who along with director Lee Frost, made the early Naziploitation flick Love Camp 7, in which he also stars as a Nazi prison camp commander with the presence similar to Dom DeLuise. Now, that movie and his performance in it are both very bad, and you could say the same thing about this one. Here he stars in drag as the den mother of a bunch of lovely ladies. Cresse's screentime in this movie is akin to a comedy snuff film, in that you're watching laughter die onscreen in real time. The shtick he does is so aggressively, brutally unfunny that maybe you start thinking that the whole concept of humour was a mistake and that we might never laugh again. But not turning off the movie. That never crosses your mind. Cresse appears in the bookends of the movie behind bars, and one would think that he's been thrown in jail for his many, many crimes against comedy.

The movie does however make a good case for the concept of nudie cuties in that the scenes of ladies prancing around in the nude are substantially more appealing than any of the scenes where Cresse is anywhere near the camera. Listen, we are all amigos here and I did not find the ladies unpleasant to look at, no matter that their hairdos would be dated even the year this movie came out. The movie is certainly shameless in delivering the goods, like in the scene where the girls are doing their exercises outdoors and take their tops off immediately after complaining about the heat. But it also displays a sense of humour, like when the topless girls sketch Cresse's (thankfully) fully clothed character (one of them depicts him in particularly spherical terms), or the sound effect that accompanies one particularly well endowed character. The movie has a bright, sunny pastel look that makes it nice enough to look at, especially when boobs and butts appear onscreen with some regularity.

Now let's just say that maybe some complications arise as the movie progresses. Let's just say that maybe there are monsters in this movie. Let's just say that maybe some monsters are more authentically monstrous than others. Let's just say that maybe there's a costume party where the fake monster or monsters get mixed up with the fake monster or monsters. Let's just say that maybe none of this bears any impact on what happens after whatsover. Let's all just say these things, and when somebody complains that we've maybe spoiled the movie, we can hide behind the concept of plausible deniability. A lot of people were saying things, who's to say what anybody said? But this movie does serve as an interesting thought experiment, helping us ponder how bad a movie we might sit through just for the sight of some monsters and mammaries.

This was recommended to me by a longtime internet friend, and I don't know whether I should be moved or offended by how well he has me pegged. After all, I sat all the way through this.

#film #movie review #house on bare mountain #lee frost #wes bishop

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britishassistant · 3 years

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@emyluwinter submitted:

It's very, very bad.

I probably already need to write some specific greeting, so that you understand that this is me again. I think something like " And here you are again a freelance newspaper worker writing about the life of a Yuu reporter!!" Today you will read a rather stressful and difficult passage, an article, a mini-script? I suggest you stock up on handkerchiefs.

This day was completely different. Grimm suddenly didn't show up for breakfast, and disappeared somewhere. None of the neighbors even saw him this morning. But Yuu definitely remembered that they went to bed together. How they covered themselves with a blanket, how they turned out the lights and fell asleep after a hard day's work. Yuuken's phone hadn't been answered for several hours, which was very unlike him. Also, the cameraman did not show up for the shooting of the report. No one in the office knew what was going on, and no one knew where he was. Yuu could feel everything inside him twisting into a tight knot of tension and despair. It seemed less and less like it was just a coincidence.

- Please let it be a misunderstanding. - Yuu consoled himself with these thoughts. But their intuition literally screamed that things were very bad. Everything goes wrong.

Even the villains seem to have decided to take a sudden day off for villainy. For a couple of hours, Yuu had been trying to call Yuuken or find Grimm. But there were no traces, no notes about the abduction. All his nerves were taut as strings. Almost choking, Yuu looks in horror at the black raven feather on his desk. This is Crowley's doing. It's a lousy case scenario. Things are bad, very bad. But what did he want from them? Why suddenly now?No matter how many questions were asked in Yuu's mind, there was no answer. A few hours later, Yuu found himself in the heart of the lair of the terrible leader of the villainous league of Crowley. Their anger was boundless and Yuu literally wanted to break the neck of this restless crow, which does not want to leave him alone. - what do you want, old crow? They decided to ask the question right away and not waste time. Fearing that it will be disastrously small to provide assistance. - Oh, Yuu, I'm so glad you decided to join me tonight. Would you like some tea? - Crowley sat quietly in his large, massive, and gaudy-looking throne chair. While they themselves were sitting on a simple chair. It was as if he was doing everything he could to show how helpless and small Yuu was compared to him. - If by join, you mean that your thugs kidnapped me and dragged me here by force, almost trashing my apartment and scaring the entire neighborhood. Wouldn't you... go fuck yourself?! Why did you suddenly think to kidnap me?what do you need?!

Yuu well understood that now is not the best idea to give vent to their anger and irritation. But they were on edge all day and the stress was stronger than usual. It had all been piling up like a snowball... for so long and so painfully. - Hush, hush, baby bird, I don't think you're in a position to let your emotions run wild right now. But I'm so kind that I'd rather not notice this little outburst of anger - Crowley indifferently took a sip of amazingly expensive tea from an equally expensive cup and saucer. - What do you want? - Yuu literally gritted his teeth to get to the bottom of it.One part of them was thinking about escape options, the other was praying that nothing happened to Yuuken and Grimm and they were kidnapped by another villain from the seven, waiting for either the Prefect or the reporter to come. They may be villains. But they are not so stupid as to harm the people dear to Yuu. They might as well have tried to kidnap Divus Cruel, but they would have been brainless in the next few hours, even if they had been very lucky not to be tortured half to death by his experiments.

- I'm glad you asked! You see I am so gracious that I will tell you my beautiful plan. As you recall, you are my biological heir. This is a very responsible and serious position in which I will need to make sure that after me there will be a leader who may even surpass me. It would be such a wonderful arrangement of affairs! Yuu wanted to punch that old crow even more. Crowley continued. - And as you must understand by now, all my previous persuasions have failed. As well as the idea that you went through adversity at birth. Yuu didn't like what he was talking about with them. - That's why!For the past few months, I've patiently let you enjoy the life you're used to. Make friends and family, get a job that you like. Even get a strange pet. And I had an amazing idea!If you couldn't get through the hardships when you were still a child, then I can easily arrange it now to break you the way I need to! Crowley chuckled smugly. Meanwhile, Yuu had the feeling that he was watching some kind of nightmare that they couldn't wake up from. - break me...what..What are you talking about? - Yuu could barely whisper their question. A chill swept through his body as quickly as if they had fallen under one of Charon's freezing traps.

But it wasn't ice. This was their terror with fear. Crowley puts his hands together and leans on his desk. - Do I sound so vague to you? Oh, you seem so happy that I'm giving you this opportunity to enjoy your peaceful days as a civilian. But I decided that it was time to stop with these children's games. Crowley presses a button on the remote control and a screen with security cameras turns on behind him. Yuu's stomach clenched in shock and horror. They screamed abruptly getting up from the chair and holding their hands over their mouths in fear, they looked at the bound Yuken and Grim, worse, Crowley did not stop.... in another screen were...their parents. They were also abducted and tied up.

Crowley went on with his plan.

- All I had to do was take everything you hold dear and brutally eliminate it in front of your eyes. As long as you're a weak cub, you can't stop it.

No wonder they talked about Crowley's monstrous reputation, Yuu almost choked on their own tears and despair.

- no...No, don't touch them!!They have nothing to do with it!! - Yuu pleaded, literally burning the old crow with his eyes.

- I told you I didn't want your money, your position, and I certainly don't want to be your heir!"!You already have 7 candidates choose one of them, why do you keep interfering and threatening me to kill my loved ones?!? - Because I'm kind enough to give you a little choice."

The Yuus recoiled from him. Again, this dirty manipulation. He's going to brainwash them, that's for sure.

- The choice is cub. You stay and I teach you as my heir, how to manage my affairs and the craft of villainy. Or ...

Yuu suppresses a ragged sigh. They didn't even notice the tears running down their cheeks and their shoulders shaking.

Crowley truly reveled in the sight and the sense of his own superiority.

- I will kill these people slowly and painfully until you learn everything, and you will see every day how your mistakes cause pain and suffering to your loved ones.

It was as if a vacuum had appeared in Yuu's head. Either way, Crowley gave them no choice. He had planned it all from the beginning.

- where...Where's the guarantee that if I stay, you won't kill them at the same time?where is the proof that they are not dead? Crowley laughed merrily, and Yuu felt helpless and weak for the first time in his life. Things are too bad, Yuu can't think of a single option for saving everyone, including myself.

- Great question!!You see, if you voluntarily stay, they guarantee me that you will not try to escape in the future and that you will be a diligent student.

Yuu thought for a second that Crowley had put an invisible noose around his neck and was pulling it tighter and tighter. Like a puppet master's collar or strings.

- If you try to escape and somehow find them in my labyrinth lair. - Crowley pressed another button on his remote control Yuu looked at the other wall and saw a reflection of himself. Terrified, their cheeks glistening with tears, as if they were lost and broken. Just like Crowley wanted.

The leader of the League of Villains gets up from his desk and takes Yuu by the shoulders and turns their face to the camera.

- Your beloved Dair Crowley and our charming reporter Yuu are on the air. Yuu stubbornly refused to look at the camera and was riveted by the eyes of his loved ones. Even through their tears, they could see that they were still fine. Yuuken played with Grim in words to pass the time. I don't think Grimm did very well, but he tried.

And his parents...

Yuu sobbed softly and barely smiled. Their father was humming a tune inaudible to their ears and kicking out a rhythm with his feet. And their mother, their kind, sweet mother, sang with him.

They were afraid, they did not know what they would do to them and whether they would live. But they sang.

Crowley was talking and talking to the camera, but they weren't listening. Yuu is too tired to be strong, too tired to be in the midst of these evil-hero fights, to be involved in these conflicts. They just wanted to live the peaceful life of a citizen, a friendly neighbor. Instead of being in their worst nightmare right now, which Yuu didn't know how to get out of.

Crowley dug his sharp nails into Yuu's cheeks very painfully,forcing them to forcibly turn their heads towards him and the camera.

- Do as I say. - Crowley whispered menacingly, as if about to kill him.

The Yuu felt that they were so brittle and broken that if Crowley pressed any more, their bones would crack just like they are now. - So my dear viewers, I will be so kind as to answer your main question!!Your favorite reporter and friendly neighbor has a unique opportunity. Stay with me as a hostage voluntarily and save your family and friends, or I'll have to persuade them with my own words ... - Crowley's eyes darkened and Yuu for the first time was afraid for the loved ones because Crowley wasn't always such a jerk.

- in kind and gracious ways. How about holding the whole city hostage? Ah probably you are now enveloped in a beautiful fear of not knowing that if the Yuu refuse, I will kill every civilian-Crowley specifically emphasized this point.

"Every single one of them, one by one, until the Yuu eventually agree. Ask why I need it?You see, I have some plans for this naughty child..

Yuu groaned softly as Crowley's other hand, with its sharp fingers, gripped his forearm very painfully, digging its nails through his clothes into the skin and scratching it.

- a monster.. - Yuu whispered softly, no longer holding back his tears. They were literally breaking down by the second. On the other side of the screen, the Leviathan in his lair dropped all the papers from his hands and turned pale with the realization of the whole situation. Crowley decided to go the route of violence if he was tired of Yuu's refusals. And the worst scenario he could have imagined came true..

- Err?!?Azul!!The shrimp is crying!I don't like it!! Floyd said angrily, not looking up from the screen.

- What are we going to do? - Jade looked at his boss expectantly. Azul sat down unsteadily on the arm of his chair.

- Crowley literally says to all the villains do not interfere or I will kill him.. - Azul replied softly, feeling a cold sweat break out on his skin... None of the villains knew what to do or what to do. But everyone swore to themselves that they would never bring Yuu to such tears. To such a terrible state... I will end my passage here. I want to hear your impressions, thoughts, and ideas!!Open to everything!

It's so great to hear that you like what I write!

...well.

Well.

You were right about needing tissues!! Holy hell, this is serious End Game level work!! This is definitely building up to a dramatic conclusion!!

Crowley seems to hold all the cards here! He’s got Yuu’s family and friends (and who he thinks is the Prefect’s secret identity) hostage so that the reporter can’t fight back or be saved, and he’s got Yuu so the supervillains can’t make a move unless they want Yuu’s death on their heads. It seems like all hope is lost...

...Though I notice Crowley hasn’t exactly factored in what a certain Uncle and other honorary family members on the board of the League, or the three mysterious old men who own Yuu’s apartment will have to say about this...

Or the fact that the Prefect may not be as contained as he thinks...

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wickedgamesoyaoya · 3 years

Text

The sound of miniature droplets plummeting against the thin window glass disturbed the fantasy your mind had fabricated to ease your inebriated senses. As the noise gradually increased in volume, you were no longer able to sustain the blissful amnesia that came packaged with the state of dreaming. With your mind slowly registering the reality you sought to escape, a gentle groan vibrated in your throat, prompting your enflamed esophagus to sting. When you sought to lift your heavy eyelids, your lashes, still marked with the mascara from last night, stuck together with invisible glue and dried liner.

The disastrous evening with your new Brazilian friends could easily be traced from the smudged makeup clinging to your pillow, to the sweet liquor that lingered on your lips. There were dozens of physical reminders, and the ache rippling through your temples was simply the cherry on top.

Surely, your actions may have cost you a favourable impression with your potential colleagues, but you could care less about that. There was only one thought – one inquiry, that was plaguing you…

Did he call?

A calculated glance was tossed in the direction of the bedside table where your phone was laid. The unlit screen mocked your increasing heartrate, wrongfully labelling you as a coward. Peering down at the device, you quickly tapped the screen to see if there was a notification from your fiancé.

There wasn’t.

To label your reaction with one descriptor would be to downplay the concoction of emotions currently eating away at your stomach. You did threaten him, so why would he respond? Maybe after hearing the message, he presumed you would be far too angry to speak with him. Or maybe… he just didn’t care. The questions continued to sprout, even as you went to the bathroom to tidy yourself up.

What you despised the most about your current predicament was the insecurity your fiancé’s deceitful behaviour had planted inside you. Questioning his love was foreign to you, but after discovering his supposed relationship with the blonde and the lies that were used to conceal it… the seed of insecurity bloomed into a monstrous weed.

After brushing your teeth, you secured your hair with an elastic, allowing a few strands to remain free, and framing your face. At least now you appeared collected on the outside, even if there was a battle ensuing on the inside.

An elongated sigh parted your lips as you exited the bathroom connected to the guest quarters. What you needed now was a pain killer and maybe a hug.

“Tooru, can you believe this little shit? He didn’t call me … back.” The final word of the sentence was barely audible, as you struggled to comprehend the visual ahead. Sat at the small dining table, accompanying the former captain was no one other than Miya Osamu. The pair appeared to have been engaged in friendly conversation before your arrival. You had never considered them to be friends, and yet in this moment, they appeared to be the closest of comrades, sipping away at their lattes, with gossip keeping them occupied. “Wow. I don’t know which one of you I should fight first.”

“Hi, y/n. You know Miya, right? He’s that guy from Japan, owns that little onigiri shop that everyone is obsessed with.” Oikawa flashed an innocent beam in your direction, his caramel irises twinkling with confidence. The threat that was posed did not elicit a reaction, rather he was satisfied by the relief he instantly saw register on your features when you spotted the cook. Your reaction had confirmed that he was right, and he fully intended on gloating about this later in the group chat.

Beside him, Osamu nervously shifted his gaze from the mug snug against his palms to the one person he was frantic to see. A small smile draped along his lips as his heart thrashed against his ribcage. God. He missed you.

“Oh no. I have never met this guy in my entire life.” Crossing your arms over your chest in a protective stance, you mentally scolded yourself for displaying any signs of happiness. But the sarcastic edge to your retort only brought your best friend to expel a chuckle.

“Oh, well then I guess I should leave you potential lovebirds to get acquainted.” The volleyball player brought the ceramic piece to his lips, finishing the remainder of the drink before lifting his weight from the seat. His job was complete, what happened next would depend on the two of you. “I’ll be back later in the evening. Be good kids.” Before stepping away from the table, Oikawa shot Osamu a quick glance, communicating a silent warning - “good luck, and don’t fuck this up”.

In hindsight, if you were tactical enough to not fall prey to your insecurities, you would have realized what your friends were hiding. The signs were all there – your best friends had never let you down, they were always there, prioritizing your happiness. Guilt hovered over your chest as you watched Oikawa fetch his keys and exist the apartment. The instability of your romantic relationship should not have bled into your friendships.

“Y/n.”

The sound of your name on his lips mimicked a physical blow, it was a reminder of just how much you missed him – how much you loved him… and how much he hurt you.

It appeared that while your attention was on the dramatic exit of your best friend, Osamu had seized the opportunity to approach you. He was now stood fairly close, and the sudden change in proximity surged electricity throughout your nervous system. Naturally, your first impulse was to wrap yourself around him, it was the same impulse that was cursed upon you after you both shared a kiss all those years ago. But the circumstances today rightfully compelled you to restrain yourself.

“Still want to fight me and my stupid face?” He proceeded another cautious step forward; the hesitation in his movement, evidently grounded in his fear of upsetting you.

The teasing remark from the former volleyball player brought your eyelids into a questioning squint. A gentle smile could be traced along his mouth, prompting a sea of butterflies to enter your abdomen. To combat the sensation, you reached out and captured his face with your fingers. But to your dismay, even with his features squished, the younger twin’s face was stupidly adorable. Frustrated with the result, a little growl was given to the male, and when he blinked down at you curiously, the sound morphed into a suffocated squeal.

“Annoying!”

How could you fight him when all you could feel was love? It was pointless.

Releasing his face from your hold, a string of curses were mumbled under your breath as you sauntered past him, before launching yourself onto the couch. Once situated comfortably, a decorated pillow was dragged onto your lap. It served as a distraction from the conversation you were dreading to have.

“You know, I miss you too.” Osamu exhaled the confession, turning himself to face you. He anticipated some hostility, and he certainly deserved it. But his torment laid in the fact he could not console you, knowing that he was the source of your pain.

And little did you know that he too was struggling to fight the same invisible force that always led you back to each other.

“No shit.” Two fingers were pressed against the bridge of your nose as you sought to untangle the web of emotions his presence had created. How were you to react? What were you to say? What was appropriate under the circumstances was ridiculously unclear.

Osamu, who was battling with similar mental inquiries, abandoned his anxieties seconds after hearing your response. Advancing closer to the couch, he crouched down in front of you then began vocalizing the apology that he owed you weeks ago.

“Y/n, I’m sorry for everything. I’m sorry I lied, and that I hid things from you. I wish I could take it all back. I love you so damn much.” Tilting his head just the slightest, he sought to secure your gaze to indicate his sincerity, but you tactically avoided it, continuing to pick at the fuzzy fabric of the pillow. “I want to fix this. I want to fix us. I don’t care about anything else. I just need you, and I’ll do whatever it takes to prove that to you.”

The promises spilling from his lips were surely enticing, but what did they mean now? When you could no longer trust them?

“This isn’t something you can just fix. I trusted you, I trusted our love and you… showed me that was a mistake.” The ferocity behind his words compelled you to rip your attention from the decorative piece, and once it landed upon him, your chest constricted uncomfortably. How could loving someone hurt this damn much? “And all of a sudden I’m here stuck with all these worries because you couldn’t be honest with me, ‘Samu. I don’t know how many times you lied to me. Or if there were other girls.” The latter half of your response contained a small crack, demonstrating a level of vulnerability you had instructed yourself to conceal. This wasn’t like you. It wasn’t. “I don’t know if you even really love me. Or if this is just something you got comfortable with, and you’re afraid to let go.”

But you hoped it wasn’t that. Oh, you really did hope it wasn’t the case.

“There weren’t any other girls, y/n. I fucked up and I’ll apologize for the rest of my life if I have to. But you couldn’t be more wrong.” He knew you were hurt, but the consequences of falsehoods had only dawned on him now. It destroyed your confidence in him, and in his love towards you.

His resolve to maintain distance no longer stood as a barrier to claim your hands in his own. Lacing your fingers together with his, he shook his head, hoping to dispel your insecurities. “I could never not love you. I don’t care how many years it’s been. I loved you then, and I love you now. If you will only believe one thing, I need you to believe this. I knew you were my soulmate the day I kissed you in the classroom. I never doubted that since then, y/n. I’m so sorry I hurt you.” The apologies were conveyed in a pleading manner, even if you chose to reject them – he needed you to understand that he meant every word. “If you’re not ready to come back home, it’s okay. I’ll wait. But I won’t give up on us.” Without severing eye-contact, he brought your hands to his lips, applying a few kisses to your knuckles. “I love you, y/n.”

“Shut up.” There was no denying his sincerity, and right now, in your hungover state, you could no longer command yourself to dismiss his apologies. Removing the pillow from your lap, you curled your arms around his torso, transferring your weight from the couch onto him. Osamu quickly adjusted, carefully settling into a seating position on the ground as you hid your face in the crook of his neck. He instantly tightened his grip around you, placing one hand at the back of your head and the other on the small of your back. The warmth emanating from him, served as a remedy to the pain infecting your heart. You knew there was much more to be discussed, as you stated before - there was no easy fix. But his apology was a starting point, and right now, what you needed more than a fight was his love.

Let’s do it again, shall we - insecurity

Masterlist - Previous - Next

A/N: I am so sorry this took forever!!

taglist: @idiot-juice-enthusiast @vicassa @yourstarvic @bringmelily @newfriendjen @hikarichannn @anime-simp @tsukkismamagucci @laughingismorefun @astronomyturtle @shegrewupwithoutafather @hyskoa1998 @deephumandragonperson @pretty-setter-bois @raenebalgaire @sugawarabby @justanotherfangirl2 @keijisworld @90s-belladonna @momoinot @sempiternal-amour @cherryblosom111 @yqshirov @haikyuufairy @volleybloop @bloody-bella @4fterh0urs @seikamuzu @namyari @toaster-stick @coconut-dreamz @roseestuosity @prcttylittlcthing @uzumakioden @nerdynstoned @kenmasgameboy @unstableye @ouijaeater15 @aquariarose @fandomtrashpandasposts @helloalex80 @stfucanunot @envyusshades @cuddlesslut @seijohiseliterambles @meiikuki @cuddlejeongin @tchalameme @ditu-m9 @elianetsantana

Taglist continued in the comments from my personal ❣️

#osamu x you #osamu scenario #osamu smau #hq osamu #osamu x reader #osamu miya #miya osamu #osamu scenarios #osamu x y/n #haikyuu smau #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu

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makeste · 3 years

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I read the meta you reposted about anyone being able to become a hero, and I would just like to give some thoughts. I agree it is wrong to think in terms of good vs bad victims and measure everyone as the same. Just because Shoto never killed anyone in response to his abuse and Toya did doesn't mean that Toya was always an evil person looking for an excuse to break bad. Different people break from different things.

these are all good, well-reasoned points, anon, but I disagree with a few of them. let me try to explain.

so the thing about this whole atonement process is that it’s hugely complex, and there isn’t really any kind of roadmap for Endeavor to follow when it comes to trying to make things right. I actually appreciate that his arc is written in such a way that his epiphany doesn’t just happen all at once, and you can see how his approach gradually turns from one that’s still mostly selfish and centered on him, to one that’s actually focused on his kids and what they need. you can see the stages he progresses through as the series goes on.

1. I’d argue that it all starts when he first gets yelled at by Deku (“Todoroki isn’t you!”). he realizes that maybe this kid has got a point, and that treating his son as an extension of him rather than as his own person might just be sorta shitty. so he files that away, but we don’t really see much of a change in him yet.

2. then a few months later he gets thrust into the #1 hero role, which has the interesting psychological effect of forcing him to see past himself and his ego for perhaps the first time in his life. he suddenly finds himself in this position as the new Symbol, and starts to feel the responsibility of that, and it basically triggers the entire rest of his redemption arc. because once he starts looking outside himself, he starts to realize the impact his actions have on other people, including his family. for the first time, he starts looking at the situation with fresh eyes, and realizes how much he’s hurt them.

3. quick little detour here, I feel like it’s important to note that Endeavor -- like many abusers -- actually does love his family and never intentionally set out to hurt them. but the problem is that he is so self-centered for most of his life that he never stops to consider that his family and his kids don’t simply exist to serve his own purposes. he abuses Shouto during his training but I’ll bet you he himself never thought of it as actual abuse, just him being hard on him in order to toughen him up. he thinks he’s doing what’s best for Shouto by making him strong in the hopes that he’ll one day surpass All Might, because that’s always been his goal, and so he just unilaterally decides that should be Shouto’s goal too. he wants the best for him, but it never enters his mind to consider that his son is his own person who, gasp, might not actually want the same things that Endeavor wants. btw I should clarify that absolutely none of this excuses anything he does, holy shit. but I feel like it’s important to mention, because many people complain that the change in Endeavor happens too abruptly and is too unrealistic, but I don’t think that’s true at all. it’s just that people don’t like to acknowledge that abusers are still human (meaning that anyone can become one if they’re not careful to consider how they treat others). Endeavor’s actions are monstrous, but they stem from realistic places, and I think that it’s a very well-thought-out character arc.

4. and so basically, once that change finally starts happening, it’s not that he suddenly starts loving his kids all of a sudden out of nowhere. it’s that he finally starts loving them for their own sake, rather than his. for the first time, he starts loving them selflessly rather than selfishly. and it’s not a change that just happens overnight, because he is so used to everything revolving around him that even after he starts realizing what he’s doing wrong, it still takes him a while to break free from those patterns.

5. and so for example, he suddenly becomes wildly supportive of Shouto and his training and attempts to go full-blown helicopter parent. because clearly that’s what Shouto needs, right?? all those years he was trying to make him into his own personal mini-me rather than loving his son for who he was and supporting him as his own person. and so we see him hounding Shouto in texts to let him teach him his Ultimate Technique (but not because he wants him to surpass All Might, but because he just wants him to be the best hero he can be! it’s different now!), and attending his training sessions to cheer him on from the stands like an obnoxious soccer mom. and afterwards he tells him he’s proud of him, and that he wants to become someone Shouto can be proud of.

6. so you can see there’s some progress at this point, but at the same time he’s still making a lot of the same mistakes. his intentions by this point have genuinely changed! but he’s still looking at the situation from his own point of view, and not taking into consideration how his son feels about the forced attempts at reconciliation. he’s thinking ‘I was a shit father, I need to make it up to him by being supportive.’ but he doesn’t stop to consider that Shouto might not WANT his support by this stage in the game; that he might, in fact, not want anything to do with him at all.

7. and this doesn’t change until after his battle at Fukuoka, when he has dinner with his family and Natsuo blows up at him. he basically lays it all out on the table, but this is the most important part:

I am willing to bet that he did not, in fact, get it until pretty much that moment, actually. because up until this point, he’s been doing exactly as Natsuo said -- trying to make nice, trying to show that he’s changed, and to be a good father now. but he doesn’t stop to consider (a) just how much hurt he really has caused them, and (b) just how impossible it is to simply erase all of that. the pain Natsuo’s expressing here isn’t something people can simply get over. and I don’t think Enji realizes until this moment that he was still going about this in the wrong way.

8. and that, lastly, is what finally leads to this:

he finally realizes that it’s not about him. and apologizes, but makes it clear that Natsuo does not have to forgive him, and that he doesn’t want to burden him by making him feel otherwise. he acknowledges Natsuo’s feelings, acknowledges the pain he’s caused, and realizes that what he and the others need is space. and this is when he makes the decision to build the new home for them and Rei, so that they can finally start to move on -- without him, if that’s what it takes.

so this is basically the progression of Endeavor’s redemption arc up to this point. and I’m sorry it took so long to recap, I didn’t mean for it to lol, but there were a lot of parts I didn’t want to just gloss over. so now, here are a few last points I want to make about his arc.

1. first off, it’s important to consider the timeline here. when making your point earlier, you talked about Endeavor building the new home for his kids, but how “on the other hand” he kept trying to force his relationship with Shouto. however the order of these things is switched around. because Endeavor building the house is something that happens at the end of his arc. and in fact we have not seen him try to force anything with Shouto since then. this is important to acknowledge because it shows that he is learning and that it’s not just an insincere case of one step forward, two steps back. the progress he’s making here is genuine; he really is trying not to be selfish anymore.

2. I know I said “the end” of his arc just now, but in fact we have no reason to believe that this is the end of it. every time I see an argument about “well why hasn’t he done this yet, or why hasn’t he said this”, I wonder why people assume that just because he hasn’t done it yet, it means we’re never going to see it. for instance, he still hasn’t apologized to Shouto specifically for the way he abused him all those years. but just because we haven’t seen it yet doesn’t mean that it won’t happen.

3. fandom has this tendency, when it comes to characters they don’t like and don’t want to see redeemed, to continuously move the goalposts so that no matter what that character does and how much they change, they can continue to justify why it’s not enough. I’m going to take a quick break from Endeavor and use Bakugou as the example here instead, since I think it’s easier to summarize.

“Bakugou is such an asshole, all he cares about is himself, he’s definitely going to become a villain.”

[Bakugou refuses to join the villains] “well whatever, he’s still a jerk, just look at how he can’t even work together with others and refuses to help anyone.”

[Bakugou learns to Win and Save, and unlocks the Power of Teamwork] “well whatever, he still doesn’t care about anyone else. look at how he’s still an asshole to Deku even now.”

[Bakugou starts helping Deku train and learn how to control OFA] “whatever, that’s literally the bare minimum, there’s still no proof that he even cares about him.”

[Bakugou literally takes a life-threatening blow to save Deku] “whatever, it’s like he said, his body moved on its own so there’s still no proof he really cares.”

[Bakugou wakes up from a two-day coma, immediately asks about Deku’s health, and rushes to his bedside] “whatever, I don’t know why everyone is making such a fuss over it, he hasn’t even apologized to him yet.”

and so on and so forth. and I guarantee that once he finally does apologize, it will then shift to “well why couldn’t he just have done that in the first place.” but you get my point.

basically, there are certain characters whose redemption arcs fandom will actively continue to deny no matter what. Bakugou is one of those characters, and so is Endeavor. and I’m not saying that in order to call those people out, because everyone has their own boundaries of forgiveness, and I don’t have the right to dictate anyone else’s, just like they don’t have the right to dictate mine. everyone has their own line, and where it’s drawn is different for each person. like for me, the one particular character who can fuck off for all eternity as far as I’m concerned is Overhaul (although I admit I am still curious to see what Horikoshi has planned for him post-prison break in spite of all that). and there are a lot of other people for whom Endeavor crosses their own personal line. and you know what, that’s fine.

but here’s the thing -- if you actually want to debate his redemption arc with people, you should be willing to do so in good faith. meaning that if you really do think Endeavor is unforgiveable (and I’m speaking now in general terms, not addressing you specifically anon), just go ahead and say so! but don’t come up with an arbitrary list of criteria that he needs to meet in order to qualify for redemption, only to keep on adding more and more items to the list. and most importantly, don’t assume that your criteria are the only valid criteria and that you can speak for everyone else. and especially don’t act like you have a right to go around slapping people with labels like “abuse apologist” just because they don’t share the same opinions as you about a fictional character.

anyway! so as usual, a post that I originally meant to be only a few paragraphs long turned out to be a whole damn essay, I apologize. but anyways anon, basically I share the same opinion as you as far as the mindset that Endeavor needs to have for his atonement (i.e. that it’s not about him). however, I think he’s made more progress than this ask gives him credit for, and I don’t think any of it has been fake. that being said, it’s still a process, and his biggest tests are yet to come. whatever ends up happening, I hope the outcome ends up being one that the rest of his family can find peace with.

#endeavor #bakugou katsuki #'makeste why is the bakugou tag there this is supposed to be a meta about endeavor' yes; well; uh; you see; er...#anyways #bnha meta #endeavor meta #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #asks #anon asks

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nanaosaki3940 · 3 years

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Enji Todoroki/Endeavor - The Social Disaster

MHA’s one of the main subplots is the Todoroki family story which we all know it as ‘Keeping Up With The Todorokis’. This subplot is deliciously complicated and the root of these complications is none other than Endeavor or Enji Todoroki himself.

And I’m going to explain why I call him ‘The Social Disaster’.

After failing to surpass All Might, Endeavor started his stupid breeding experiment where he’ll create a child to use it as a weapon to surpass All Might and become the No. 1 hero and the first weapon he created was called Touya Todoroki. At the very beginning of the training sessions with his son, Endeavor filled Touya’s head with dreams of becoming No.1 hero, be greater than All Might, that he was the destined one to carry out his father’s legacy etc. And then one day Endeavor stopped everything and just gave up on Touya, saying – “No, you can’t. You’re worthless, you can’t do this one thing I told you that you’re gonna be able to do your whole life and so you need to just get the fuck out of my face. Stop doing it. Go be an accountant and just give up.”

From birth Touya was told –“You’re gonna be this great thing. You’re gonna be this Hero Hokage.” and then Endeavor’s like – “Oh sorry, you’re not going to be that Hero Hokage.” and we see that Endeavor’s spending the whole time telling his son like - “Go hang out with your friends and go be normal.” And Touya says – “Well, everyone at school wants to be a hero too.” To me, it’s kinda looping back into Deku’s situation in reverse, like where Deku wanted to become a hero but he was quirkless and Touya also wanted to be a hero, but he can’t tolerate his own flames.

And then Endeavor came up with this shitty idea like – “Oh, you know what will make him stop, if you get him a fucking replacement.” which is maybe the worst idea I’ve heard in my whole life of how to resolve a problem like this.

To me, Endeavor has seemingly no understanding of how people work beyond just – “Oh, this is how I solve criminal cases.”

During his engagement with Rei, he looks and talks like such an awkward idiot and I feel like the way he treats Touya and the way he tries to handle his situation, just proves that how bad he is in understanding what he is doing and how his intentions affects reality.

Even though he is a grown-ass adult and he should know, it's interesting to see that there is this sort of consistency because I believe the implication is that it is his social idiocy that also caused him the No. 1 spot that he could never really become the people's man like All Might because he just doesn't know how to be a man of the people like All Might. And this is how it infects all parts of his life.

He's telling Touya to stop out of concern for him like – “You need to stop this because it's just not good for you.”, which is a very sweet sentiment. But at the same time, we get the panel of where he says – “We got to have another kid to make him stop doing it because then he will give up.” And Rei says –“No, we're not going to do that.” And his response is –“No, we gotta do it because he is never gonna be the one to surpass All Might.”

Then they have Natsuo and we see Touya’s reaction to it and it’s obviously that he’s not taking it very well and then we just see Endeavor getting more and more angry and Rei is getting more and more sad and defeated by the whole situation and when they have baby Shoto, the faces of Endeavor, Rei and Touya physically upsets me. We get to see Endeavor looks really excited, Rei's just like –“I’m done, just stop.” And Touya is so devastated because he realizes that this is the one that's gonna be better than him.

Shoto got what they wanted out of him and we see Touya saying like –“I can still do it.” and the end result is just the dad saying like; it's not even like –“Let's do things together other than being heroes.”; it's more like –“You got to give up on being hero, go play with other kids, go to school and get the fuck out of my face. I gotta train this other hero child. I don’t have time for this shit.”

Endeavor has a line of logic within his brain where he's like –“I can’t fix Touya for what I have done to him cannot be undone because I don’t have the capabilities, so I will just move forward and hope that he copes up.”, which is a terrible and stupid idea, but it is nonetheless align of logic within him.

There’s a certain set of values, ideas and goals in him and he follows them through and they were all terrible and reprehensible. But it still shows that there was an internal logic to him that it makes him even more monstrous without taking that terrifying humanity away from him.

Endeavor is just a person who has done terrible things, with an actual logical line of thought behind it even if it is logic that only makes sense to him.

There’re a lot of obvious parallels we can make between Touya and Deku (they’re not subtle about it and it’s kind of in our faces). Well it's just interesting to me that like Endeavor his whole obsession is like –“I gotta be better than All Might.” And then even in situations like this where he has this protégé that he gives all this hopes and dreams to like –“You're gonna be great, you're gonna be a hero, you’re gonna be the greatest.” And then the child has this power that his body cannot handle and he can't do what the dad told him to do, Endeavor is just like –“Well then, you suck kid. Get a new job, idiot.”

On the other hand, even though All Might is far from perfect in a lot of ways of course when it comes to this but it’s the exact same thing but he understands that like having these aspirations and these dreams even in someone so young is so real. And we know that All Might feels bad about what happens to Deku, but at no point does he tell him like –“Okay, give it up kid. You still can’t do it more than 5% without breaking your arm. Give it up idiot. I’m gonna give it to somebody else.” Like at no point does that even cross his mind. Rather All Might tells Deku –“Look, you gotta work to do. You’re not up to that level yet but I’ll help you and I’ll do it with you.”

And that’s true that Touya wanted to be better than All Might which wasn’t realistic but he was also a child and rationality and setting realistic goals comes much later than being a fucking child. But Endeavor was so obsessed with his own shit that it was hard for him to get over his own hang ups and look through Touya’s problems. Touya could easily still be a hero if he accidentally singes his skin a little bit sometimes that’s not even close to the kind of damage that Deku does himself every time he fights anything. So, it’s not unrealistic to be like –“Okay, yeah I’ll help you and we’ll take it slow. We’ll help you get over your power and then when you get to school or whatever, you can get help from the tech department and make you a heat shield or whatever.”

There were many ways that he obviously could’ve worked around it but Endeavor didn’t give a shit about that because that wasn’t his goal. He’s goal wasn’t to nurture Touya rather his goal was to find a way to get past All Might. He didn’t give a shit about trying to take it slow or trying to help Touya to accomplish anything other than what he wanted and once Touya couldn’t do that, he’s like –“Get the fuck out of my face while I train this replacement child.”

Endeavor is a kind of a person who makes every single mistake it could have made, like starting right from the point where he buys a wife to the point where he tortures Shoto during training sessions. Like you all can tell that he almost like wanted to be a parent when he was like –“Oh, I need to protect Touya from his own power.” He vocalizes a sweet sentiment but also he’s the reason Touya is like this and he can’t just run away and that’s why I like what Rei says as well it’s like –“You just keep running away. You keep creating these problems and you just keep running forward to All Might but also you keep running away from what you have done.” And I am so happy with how Rei is characterized like she is so much more spunky and so much more like assertive than I thought. Like she actually talks back to Endeavor and even in the hospital scene, she has like a presence and says –“You know we will do this. You need to get yourself together and we need to atone together, but most of all you because you were a piece of shit.”

And I also like the little thing at the end where Shoto was like –“I talked with Mom before we came here and I told her that I was going to be the one to stop Touya, but no, we’ll stop him altogether.” To me it sounded like it was Rei’s idea where she was like –“No, you can’t let this piece of shit make this your problem.” I mean Endeavor was always running away. He ran away from Touya and all this stuff happened. He was ready to do it again in the hospital, saying that –“I can’t fight him, he’s my son and I can’t do it.” But Rei was like –“No, get up and take some fucking responsibility for your problems.”

And I love that it was Rei the one who came to that conclusion, because even Shoto was ready to be like –“Dad can’t do it. I’m destined to stop my brother.” And she was like –“No, it’s this asshole’s problem. He did this and yeah all of us could have done more but you can’t let him sit in a bed and wallow about being so pathetic. He needs to get up and he needs to solve this.” And there's no better character it could have been to have been the one that came to that conclusion.

And this is what I love about MHA that how sincere it is and what I mean by that is moments like these where it doesn’t really go out of its way to play into any specific tropes when it comes to this abuse storyline and instead just gives you hurt people moving past and making decisions that sounds reasonable. Like the fact that Shoto didn’t just go on the avenger mode but instead talked it over with his mother which usually doesn't happen in shounen manga/anime. When you decide on making a revenge plot in shounen, you just do it. You don’t go and talk to someone important in your life and seek emotional counsel in shounen. So yeah, I love that Horikoshi sensei is giving us mature and realistic contents like these.

Then in chapter 302 we see Rei asks Touya like –“It almost seems like you don’t want to really be a hero, like you don’t seem like you actually care about becoming a hero. It just seems like you’re obsessed and stuck because Endeavor is your dad and you feel like you have a legacy to live up to but he is abandoned you.” And of course Touya’s responses were like –“Fuck you, mom. I fucking hate you.” But she was right. If Endeavor just hadn’t been such a pig headed shit in dealing with the problem, Touya either would have grown up to the point where he realized it was not worth it or if he really wanted to be a hero, Endeavor could have actually helped foster him into one if his entire end goal wasn't dependent on Touya being the best one.

Did Touya need to be the greatest hero ever created?

No.

Because in their last real conversation, before Touya ran off to the mountain and got burned up, he said and acknowledged the fact that he wasn’t as good as Shoto right now, but he said –“One day, I might become great and you’ll be proud of me.” Touya wasn’t even there saying like –“Oh, I’m the greatest thing ever born. Look at my awesome fire. Oops I burned the mountain down.” It was just him being like –“Look, I’m still trying. Look at this cool thing I did. Acknowledge this one thing that I did.” And Endeavor’s only reaction is – “Shut the fuck up, kid. You fucking idiot. How many times I tell you not to do this?”

But when Touya does get burned up, it shows us Endeavor’s face in horror running to the mountain which again is so bizarre. Honestly I’m starting to wonder if we will get an Endeavor back story ‘cause his set of morals and values is so fucked up.

The issue is Endeavor does care, but he just doesn't understand how to care. Like on a base level, he has the positive emotion of caring about Touya’s well-being and that is about where it ends. Endeavor has no comprehension of what that means or how to do that in a good way.

Every idea he thinks of how to fix it is stupid and he's even obsessed with the notion of like –“When Touya uses too much of his fire, he burns himself. So, I guess he has to never ever use his power ever forever from now.” I mean this goes beyond ‘I'm socially awkward around ladies’.

I almost think Endeavor’s previous family was just nothing prior to him and he fucking hated that. This is probably edge dark turn for what they might end up doing but I’m going almost like the Hawks route like –“Dad was a drunk, mom didn’t give a shit and they fought all the time. I was the scared repressed kid, but then at school or whatever it turned out I was actually pretty awesome and I became popular to some extent by both like athletic and corporate events. I was cool for that aspect so I’m used to being around people but I have no understanding of how they work at all.” That’s my assumption.

Even when he keeps trying to apologize to his family it always comes off like –“Yeah, I’m a bad guy and you hate me, so I’m gonna buy you a house that I won’t live in.” I mean, you’re still not really trying are you? You’re just moving the problem ‘cause you just like –“Oh, they’ll just be happy without me. I just suck. I’m just going to go away.” But like, you’re not helping them heal up or whatever. You’re just like ‘I’m going to be nice now’ but that doesn’t make all the horrible shits you did go away.

Endeavor doesn’t have an understanding of how humans work just because of how he is, but now I’m really curious to see if there might be more behind that. I just want to see why he’s so obsessed with All Might, like where that came from.

The character he’s obviously a parallel to is Bakugo and with Bakugo, we do get to see that since his youth Bakugo equated being a hero and the triumph of being a hero with being as good as All Might. That is very light as far as his motivation goes but it’s a motivation nonetheless.

With Endeavor, we’ve only ever gotten as far as like –“He is strong and I’m weaker and that pisses me off.”

It's almost idolization in a different way where we’re like with Bakugo, it’s like –“That’s my goal. I want to be just like All Might.” Whereas with Endeavor, it's like –“That's my goal 'cause I’m pissed off that I’m not the best of the best.”

They both idolized him in similar ways and Bakugo obviously feels more socially adjusted than Endeavor. Even though Bakugo’s a dick, he’s aware of things and is surprisingly emotionally literate. Like the scene where him and Deku get in trouble after they fight in end of season 3, they're like cleaning the house or whatever and Bakugo makes that little reach out of like –“Hey, the fighting style you’re using is messed up for these reasons, so you should try doing this.”

Like that alone is way beyond anything I would ever expect that of Endeavor. Endeavor’s response when they were cleaning the house would have been like –“Don’t worry, I’ll move my room to a different floor, so we won’t have to talk anymore.”

Endeavor’s a fucking weirdo, I swear.

And also Endeavor’s like actual motivations of becoming No.1 hero are almost intentionally omitted from the whole Todoroki family subplot and it’s so uncanny. I’m really hoping that Horikoshi sensei actually does something with that cause I think it feels so shallow compared to how much time we've spent on it now exactly and I feel it’s intentional and we are going to get something more about Endeavor. It feels like one of those gaps that an author leaves specifically so you can question it until it fills you in.

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #enji todoroki #bnha endeavour #mha endeavor #shoto todoroki #touya todoroki #toya todoroki #natsuo todoroki #fuyumi todoroki #rei todoroki #mha shouto #dabi #mha dabi

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once-upon-a-pirate-ship · 3 years

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How Restlessly the Stars Do Gleam 1/?

Here we go! Comment/reblog/share/dm me (always).

Summary: Princess Emma isn't the princess of much anymore. It's been months since her parents and brother were taken, and she's been on the run with her godmother Red (she's a werewolf and doesn't age, whether or not that detail is canon because I honestly can't remember). When Emma and Red board a merchant vessel to sail to Arendelle, Emma quickly finds that the captain is not to be trusted. After helping two slave brothers (Liam and Killian, if you didn't figure that out already), Emma takes over the ship and begins her journey to save and rebuild her kingdom.

We've got action, we've got adventure, we've got the most badass Emma I've ever written--there's tension and brothers and curses and love! What more could you want? (Is it Will Scarlet? Because he's also gonna be in this)

Story rating: M for the violence and stuff (just to be on the safe side because this will probably get dark very quickly) though there will also be other stuff later.

Chapter 1: Unfit for a Princess

Chapter word count: 6.7k (whoops. I know I said 4k, but I couldn't help it)

Read it on AO3

Most people probably would’ve been surprised at the things she’s seen. They certainly hadn’t been fit for a princess, though she wasn’t the princess of much anymore. Her lands had been trampled, her castle destroyed, but what devastated her the most was the loss of her people and the lives taken. Perhaps she could’ve withstood all of that, had her brother and her parents not been stolen from her as well. Months on the run and time wasted spent searching for something she couldn’t even name, but when Emma boarded a merchant vessel with her godmother Red at her side and her sword on her hip, she had to trust that she was headed towards that something.

Captain Silver never would’ve been her first pick. But his ship was one of the few that still sailed her kingdom’s waters, and his papers claimed allegiance to her parents. It was the first they’d found in the weeks they’d watched the port.

Silver was a slimy fellow, broad shoulders and yellowing teeth and he leered at Emma and Red from his place at the helm.

“We can’t exactly be choosy, Emma,” Red murmured, but by the way her eyes flashed when she glanced back at the captain, she’d been thinking the same thing.

Emma scanned the deck rather than focus on Silver, her eyes flitting from person to person as she surveyed the crew and their movements. Her gut tangled itself into a knot at the scene before her, though there was nothing innately wrong about anything she saw.

But Emma had spent her whole life training. Her father had put a sword in her hand as soon as she was big enough to hold it on her own. Her mother followed with a bow not long after. Tracking, fighting, surviving—these lessons were interwoven between court etiquette classes and political strategy lectures. Her parents had taught her to trust her instincts, and that feeling in her stomach told her that something wasn’t right.

“Let’s just keep our heads down and get to Arendelle,” Red advised, her voice cool. Emma’s godmother was a fiery woman, a force of nature who didn’t need her wolf form to take down men twice her size. But she was also her only counsel, the only one who had made it out of the attack.

And she was right, of course. Emma knew that. But Emma also knew that men like Silver were not to be trusted, and if there’s ever a case where one should keep their head up, it’s when someone untrustworthy is nearby.

It only took her a few hours to learn what made her skin crawl.

Emma emerged from below deck, her hand itching to reach for her sword on instinct the second she met the eyes of one of the crew. Red had stayed below, encouraging Emma to stretch her legs and take some air above, but it wasn’t the relaxing scene she’d expected.

Silver towered over a man on his knees, and the captain’s disgusting expression revealed something vindictive in his manner.

“Captain, I’m sorry, he was only—”

Silver’s hand was quick, cutting off the pleading man with a smack to his jaw. The punch was enough to knock the man over, a quiet groan of pain falling from his lips as another rushed to his aid.

This man’s glare came from sharp blue eyes that were partially shadowed by the dark hair that fell onto his forehead. “It was my fault, Captain, you needn’t punish my brother for my mistakes.” His words were firm, clear, but edged with desperation that felt too familiar to one particular observer.

Captain Silver chuckled, shaking his head at the man before him. “Twenty lashes wasn’t enough to teach you before, boy. Perhaps if it’s your brother who takes them this time, you’ll learn.” The captain waved a hand, and two of his crew grabbed the man by the arms, dragging him away from his brother.

Several feet away on the deck behind, Emma remained perfectly still, but it wasn’t fear, shock, or unwillingness to intervene that had her so.

The brother pushed himself up, cool resolve settling over his features. They were softer than his brother’s, his hair lighter and slightly curled, but his eyes were the same piercing blue. Those eyes tightened when he was ordered to turn, but it disappeared when he caught sight of his brother—younger, by the looks of it—kneeling at the other end of the main deck, his shoulders braced by the captain’s men as he was made to watch.

“No!” the younger cried, watching in horror as Silver pulled the whip into his hand.

But before the lash could connect with his brother’s back, its path was obstructed, wrapping around the blade of a sword. Emma tugged, the whip slipping from Silver’s grasp and flying into her hands.

She had waited—for Silver to be more distracted, for the men to least expect interference, for the perfect opening—and then she had slipped from the quarterdeck to prevent the monstrous act from taking place.

“Please, tell me exactly what you thought you were going to do just now,” she said, and although her voice did not boom across the deck, it was fire and ice, and it sliced through the ears of anyone within range.

The captain turned to face her, his eyes angry despite his smile. “Come now, Princess,” Silver cooed, “you shouldn’t be on deck for this.”

It was almost a warning, nearly a threat, and Emma narrowed her eyes. “Answer me, Silver.”

He smirked, glancing around at his men before returning his attention to her. “What, a man doesn’t have the right to punish his own slave? Is that what your kingdom has come to?” he asked innocently, laughter lacing his tone.

If Emma had looked around, she would’ve seen the surprised and curious looks of the crew and the slaves in question, but her gaze was focused only on the captain. “If you knew anything about this kingdom, Captain, you’d know that slavery is prohibited and punishable by death.” She did not tremble, did not raise her voice, did not allow her immense rage to overpower her.

The captain scowled, his eyes hardening as he reached for his cutlass. “You’re out of your depth, Princess,” he spat.

“Am I?” she asked, her tone imitating the clueless princess they believed she was, cocking her head to the side. “Perhaps you really know nothing about my kingdom, because there’s another thing you should know.” She paused, and maybe it was for the dramatic effect, but she was her father’s daughter, so no one could really blame her. “If you draw your weapon against me, you’ll lose it before you have a chance to blink,” she promised. If anything, her voice had gotten quieter, but there was no doubt that she was heard across the deck.

It seemed, however, that Silver was one of those ‘see it to believe it’ types, because he didn’t take her at her word. She moved as soon as the sound of scraping metal reached her ears, and a few steps and a simple twist of her wrist had his cutlass thudding against the deck.

“Now do you believe me?” she asked. “Or would you like a more detailed demonstration?”

Silver growled, but he’d barely taken a step before Emma’s quick feet had her behind him, the hilt of her sword bashing into his skull and knocking him clean out. She could’ve given him a real fight, but it wasn’t worth the energy. And there were other, greater concerns she had at the moment.

When she turned to face the open-mouthed men, she caught sight of Red who leaned casually against some rigging, a nod and a small, encouraging smile sent from her godmother for her to continue.

“I hereby strip Captain Silver of his rank and his ship,” Emma announced. “As his crew, I ask you to join me on my journey to Arendelle. If anyone has a problem with this leadership change, I’ll be happy to lock you in the brig beside Silver.” No one moved, either too stunned or too enraptured by the princess to do anything.

She cleared her throat, “Now, unless there are any questions, I suggest you all get back to work.” It must’ve been her regal voice that made them all comply so willingly. Her mother had trained it into her just as harshly as she had trained her to shoot and curtsey. It was, in many aspects, a well-rounded education.

Red threw her a grin, Emma signaling her to dispose of Silver. And just like that, she kindly rid the deck of the scum that was the former captain.

Once he was gone, Emma turned back to the brothers. She studied them for a moment, resheathing her sword as she did. Both were still wide-eyed, though the younger was now sitting of his own volition, but neither of them seemed to have fully processed the turn of events.

The elder recovered from his shock quickly. “Thank you, Your Highness,” he told her, his head bowed.

Emma’s fierce anger and all of her noble posture disappeared as she took in the man who still knelt before her, the look in his eye and the hunch of his shoulders. And then that other thing her mother had taught her, kindness, rose to the surface and softened her gaze.

“And what is your name, sir?”

The man fumbled, blinking up at her. “Liam, Your Highness. Liam Jones.”

“Well, Liam, think nothing of it. What kind of ruler would I be if I allowed such horrors to continue?” She offered him a hand, but he just stared at it. “Let me help you,” she said softly.

“I am already indebted to you, Your Highness, my brother and I, we can’t possibly—”

She grabbed his protesting hand, forcing him to his feet. “There now,” she said, “that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Emma smiled, ignoring his flabbergasted expression and moving instead to the brother. He stared up at her, and it seemed to her that he was peering directly into her soul. When she offered him her hand, he took it.

“And your name, sir?”

“Killian Jones, Your Highness.” Emma’s lips twitched, and though she still hated the way her title sounded, she found that she didn’t hate it quite so much when it came from this man.

Emma stepped back, watching as Liam crossed to his brother, and their embrace had her missing hers. She sighed, tossing the whip unceremoniously overboard before facing Red who had appeared from below.

“How fares our guest?”

“Oh, I’ve ensured that his journey will be as uncomfortable as possible,” Red smirked.

Emma nodded, her eyes moving across the deck before returning to her companion. “Good,” she replied. “Stay here. Deal with any…problems. I’ve got some things to take care of.”

Red saluted, and it was only partially teasing. “Aye, aye, Captain,” she grinned.

Emma rolled her eyes, then turned to face the brothers who stood a few feet away, their heads bowed in close conference. The second they realized she was watching them, they turned their attention to her.

“Brothers Jones, follow me,” she said, and they were almost too quick to obey.

They were silent behind her as she crossed the deck, the other men parting to let them by. No one dared meet her gaze, but it was with an air of respect rather than insubordination, or so it seemed to her. She wasn’t naive enough to think her control would hold, but Red’s presence on deck would likely keep them at bay for the time being.

When the door to the captain’s quarters swung open, Emma didn’t try to hide her grimace. A sharp contrast to the spotless deck, Silver’s cabin was covered in papers that had been thrown about, there were clothes littering the floor, food tossed aside and even lingering on parts of the walls.

“Is it always like this?” she asked, turning back to the brothers. She got her answer when Killian’s eyes darkened. “It’s like this until you clean it,” she deduced. “I see.”

They exchanged a look, but she ignored it. “Well, this won’t do. Come along!” she called, leaving them behind her as she headed towards her own quarters.

Liam and Killian hesitated in the doorway of her cabin, and she turned to them with raised eyebrows, her hand gesturing for them to sit at her table. When they shifted their feet reluctantly, she added, “Please sit. There are several questions I have for you, but first I’d like to tend to your injuries. This will go much more smoothly if you sit.”

When they finally acquiesced, Emma moved to the trunk in the corner of the room. It was a recent purchase, one that she’d agreed upon only after Red promised to make use of it as well. Emma was used to living out of the leather satchel that she dug through now, as months running and searching were better suited to packing lightly.

Emma retrieved the small wooden box from the bag, setting it on the table between the two men who watched her every move. The lid creaked when she opened it, revealing the few healing supplies she’d managed to hold onto throughout her travels. The jar of salve was something she’d made herself—her mother’s recipe—and after finding a clean cloth from beside the water basin, Emma dapped at the mixture.

Liam flinched when she raised the cloth to his face, relaxing a moment later when she waited for him to assure her that all was well with a small nod. She eased the salve over the bruise that had already begun to form, attempting to be as gentle as possible.

When she was done, she set the cloth over the jar, her hand finding the back of the empty chair as she looked between them.

“Any more injuries I need to know about?” To another, their silence might have indicated that the answer was no, but she read their expressions before they were schooled, measuring the looks they exchanged.

Emma’s arms folded over her chest, and something not quite as biting as a glare cut through their silence. “Hiding them isn’t going to help you very much,” she added.

Liam shifted uncomfortably. “Your Highness—”

“Call me Emma.”

His lips pulled down sharply as he looked from his brother to her. “You’re a princess,” he replied, “it isn’t proper.”

She let out a suffering sigh, releasing her arms from their hold around herself and gripping the back of the chair instead. “I’m barely a princess anymore,” she told them, her tone too matter-of-fact to reveal the devastation that came with the confession. “My kingdom is in ashes, my castle is little more than rubble, and my people are terrified, lost, or dead. My command on this ship may be the last royal duty I have, and I intend to do it right. That starts with helping the two of you.”

Her words hung heavily in the air, and Liam relented. “Killian’s back…”

“Is fine,” Killian finished quickly. Too quickly.

Liam’s eyebrows shot up at his brother, his head shaking slightly. “It’s not,” he told her, his pleading eyes slicing into her. “But I’m not sure it’s work for a—” he caught himself, pausing and starting again, “—for a lady.”

For a princess. The words, though unsaid, haunted her.

Emma’s lips pulled together as she glanced between them again. “I don’t know if you were paying attention back there, but I’m hardly the type to shy away from getting her hands dirty. And trust me, I have years of experience tending to my own wounds,” she said, “I think I can handle it.”

The months she’d spent with Red swirled in her mind, pointed memories of biting on straps of leather and suppressing cries, stitches rushed beneath moonlight with nothing but alcohol to numb the pain.

“If you supply me with sutures, I’m sure I can make quick work of it,” Liam offered.

Anyone else might have let him, but there was something in her gut that told her she needed to do it. To prevent Liam from having to cause his brother pain again, however helpful that pain might be, or perhaps to ensure that the wound was being properly taken care of, or maybe she was just too damn stubborn to let them do it themselves.

“I’m sure you’re right,” Emma replied, “but between my work with injuries and needlepoint, I think I’ve got you beat with even stitches.” They didn’t have a response to that, and she counted it as a victory.

But that victory was rather hollow when she recalled the words of the captain, the ‘twenty lashes’ that had failed to teach whatever twisted lesson Silver believed was fair, and she was reaching for the numbing gel in her box before she realized what she was doing. It had become her most precious item in the past months, aside from the few trinkets she had from her parents and her father’s dagger, but if made to choose, she’d have to pick the more practical one.

“Liam, I’m not certain—”

Emma didn’t let him finish. “Look, I realize that this is less than ideal. I’m just a stranger to you, and I understand that I’m asking you to trust me. But if this is about pride or protecting my sensibilities, you’re wasting time for both of us,” she said firmly, holding Killian’s gaze. “The reality is that I can help you. You just have to let me. So either tell me to leave you to your pain, or take off your shirt and let me help you.”

Killian did not move right away, blinking up at her with his eyes blown wide. But Emma was never one to back down from a challenge, and she wasn’t going to be the one to break the staring contest they’d gotten into.

“Killian, she’s right,” Liam said, Killian’s eyes flitting from hers to look at his brother. “Just do it. You’ll heal much faster this way.”

When Killian finally stood to unbutton his shirt, Emma returned to her box, gathering the other supplies rather than look at the man she found dangerously intriguing. She forced herself to focus, not looking up until he’d laid on the bed, his back exposed.

“Is there anything you need?” Liam asked her as she crossed to the bunk, pulling the chair so she could sit beside it.

“A wet cloth, thank you,” she replied, laying her supplies out onto the small table next to her.

Part of her training to become an effective ruler included learning to put her mind in a box. She had to be rational even when being rational nearly killed her, and letting her emotions surface now, when there was a person who needed healing…she wasn’t going to let that happen. So she swallowed every thought and feeling that rose in her stomach and in her mind, examining the torn skin before her as if it were a war that had to be fought, and order, strategy, precision would let her succeed.

Emma accepted the wet cloth from Liam before he returned to sit at the table. “I’ll have to clean it first,” she told Killian softly. “It will sting for a moment, but once I’m done I’ll apply the numbing gel.” It was confusing for her, trying to dance the line between empathy and cool rationality. Comfort, kindness, but calm, exact, detached but not apathetic.

Killian didn’t meet her gaze, nodding as his hand gripped the pillow. His jaw was taut, and she recognized the expression. The anticipation of pain, the kind that came with knowing what was to come.

It was the lack of a cry, a groan, or even a whimper that tore into her heart and almost shattered the dam that restrained her emotions. The cleansing liquid burned, she knew it did, but as she dabbed it against the bright red gashes that covered his upper back, he did not make a sound. She followed with the cloth quickly to ease the fire, but it wasn’t enough. It never had been for her.

Emma forced herself to breathe when she returned the bottle to the table, taking the numbing gel in hand. She grounded herself in the release of tension the second it touched his skin, how his jaw loosened and the way his exhale was almost a sigh.

“Alright, Liam, tell me who’s gonna be a problem,” she said, eager for both the distraction and the information.

“What?”

She didn’t turn to look at him, reaching for the needle instead. “You talk while I work,” she told him. Killian didn’t show any sign of pain or even sensation when she made the first stitch, but Emma knew it wasn’t because he couldn’t feel it. The numbing gel was good, but it could only do so much.

“Who is going to try to mutiny?” she asked, pausing before forming another stitch.

“Carver,” Killian grunted. “He and Johnson aren’t likely to be your biggest fans,” he said, and he spoke as if he were sitting beside her at the table.

She kept her eyes and her hands focused on making quick, even stitches. “Greatest assets? I need to know who’s going to be the most helpful on our voyage, who can navigate, who I can trust.”

“Terry’s the best sailor we’ve got,” Liam said.

Killian made a sound, and at first, Emma thought she’d hurt him. “I’d say you’ve got at least as much skill, brother,” he muttered.

Emma stopped her moving hand, glancing back at Liam. “Is this true?” Heat spread across his face, answering before he could.

“Aye,” Killian replied.

“Okay, we’ll discuss that later,” she said, resuming her task. It was easier to think of it like that, a task, just something she needed to do. “Is there anyone else on board who will be needing my nursing abilities?”

“Not that I’m aware of, no,” Liam said softly.

Emma nodded, letting silence fall for a few minutes while she worked. Half of her energy was channeled towards the actual stitching, the other half spent on trying not to think about the scar tissue on this man’s back. She wasn’t sure she’d ever stitched something faster in her life.

“If I didn’t make it abundantly clear before, you’re both free,” she said after a while. “If you’d prefer it, we can drop you off at the nearest port, but you’re welcome to stay. I’ll see to it that you have proper wages—retroactive ones, either way—but you’ll have a place among the crew should you wish it. The choice is entirely yours.”

“We’ll stay,” Liam told her, his tone more resolved than she’d ever heard it.

“Aye,” Killian agreed as if there were no question.

She smiled softly, relieved at their choice, if she were being honest with herself. She would’ve kept her word had they chosen otherwise, but it was a comfort to know that she’d have at least two she could rely on aboard the ship.

It didn’t take much longer for her to finish the last of the stitches, and she covered his back in her special salve a little more liberally than normal. Her hand froze as she pulled it back, her ears catching the sounds from the deck.

“Damn,” she muttered, wiping her hands with the wet cloth quickly, “I thought we’d have more time.” She left the room before Killian could even replace his shirt, but the brothers Jones were not far behind.

Her sword was in her hand when she reached the deck, scanning the scene and finding Red in the center of it. Several men had gathered around her as she bared her blade and her teeth, but Emma was at her side before the first man had the chance to attack.

Emma’s sword was fast, although it wasn’t the cutlass the crew used, and she parried her opponent’s first attack, then his second, the metal clanging so familiar that she got lost in the fight, a lunge and a hit against him and then a step to the side at the last second that threw him off balance. A sweep of her leg brought the man down faster than he could recover, his ass then his head slamming against the ground.

A half-turn brought her to the next enemy, a quicker man who still wasn’t quite quick enough. She used his size against him, tricked him into an ill-timed attack that revealed more of her target, and she nicked him in the arm, just enough to make him falter. She disarmed him with a move her father had taught her, knocking him out with the butt of her sword without waiting to watch him drop onto the deck.

But when she spun to face her third opponent, someone else was there to interrupt her.

Liam charged with a fallen blade, his footwork a little clumsy but good enough to face the oversized mutineer. He lunged at the man, catching him in the side, and Liam took him down with just a few more swipes.

The fourth was already engaged in a fight with Killian when she turned. This brother was quicker, more agile, better suited for the blade in his hand. He was skilled, that was apparent to her even in the thirty seconds or so she was able to observe before he disarmed the attacker. The hilt of his sword collided with the man’s head, and then Killian turned to face his princess and captain.

Red cast her weary gaze across the deck, eyeing the rest of the crew who had gathered to watch the events unfold. “Anyone else?” she taunted, and Emma joined her in measuring them up. “Good, at least we’ve retained the ones with common sense. I could use a hand taking these traitors to the brig,” she hinted.

Several men moved right away, both brothers with them, but Emma stopped Killian with a hand on his shoulder. His startled eyes met hers, his eyebrow raised questioningly.

“If you pull those stitches, all of my hard work will be for nothing,” she said. She felt her lips pull up at his sheepish expression, his hand reaching to scratch behind his ear.

She turned to his brother who was hoisting an attacker over his shoulder. “Thank you, Liam.” Another hand held out to him, this time to shake.

“You’re welcome, Your Hi—” he paused, taking it. “Emma.”

It was just her name, but it really wasn’t. It felt like acceptance, like loyalty. Fighting for each other, crossing enemy blades to defend. With Liam, the use of her name was respect and a promise. She watched him join the others in heading below, and then she turned to his brother.

“Thank you, Killian,” she said, offering him the same gesture.

“We owe you much, love. It’s the least we could do.”

Emma tried to pretend that she didn’t feel a jolt rush through her when her hand touched his, like lightning didn’t shiver up her arm from where their skin met. She mourned the sensation when it disappeared with the release of his hand.

“You’re a better swordsman than your brother,” she said suddenly.

“Aye, well,” he hesitated, ducking his head. “He was a little busy covering for my mistakes to learn the footwork.”

“That was more than just footwork,” she pointed out.

Killian flushed, his ears turning a most delightful shade. He opened his mouth to speak, but whatever he was about to say was interrupted when a man approached.

The newcomer was older, slightly graying, and he wore a kind smile. “Your Highness,” he greeted, bowing properly. “My name is John Terry. I’d like to offer my navigational skills to aid Your Highness on our voyage to Arendelle.”

Although she was put off by his terrible timing, she smiled her sweetest diplomat smile. “Thank you, sir. I am certain that Liam will appreciate the assistance, as he will be leading the charge, so to speak.”

She hadn’t entirely decided on this particular detail, not until she saw how readily he fought for her, how quickly he and his brother came to help her. After all that, how could she not trust him to lead their way? As always, she listened to her instincts, and her instincts were screaming at her to trust the Jones brothers.

“Of course, Your Highness,” Terry nodded. “I will meet with the elder Jones just as soon as he finishing helping Lady Red.” With another bow, Terry retreated, the sincere expression never wavering.

Killian was staring when she turned back to him. “You…”

“Took you at your word?” He nodded. “Allow me to let you in on a little secret,” she said, her voice low, “I can always tell when people are lying.” It had saved her life more than once, and though she’d had reservations about giving Liam the post before, his skill was never in question.

Killian’s eyes didn’t leave her, they only widened as if he couldn’t help himself but look at her in awe.

“What?”

“You’re bloody brilliant,” he blurted, and red came to stain his cheeks again. “Apologies, Your Highness,” he muttered.

Emma sighed, resheathing her sword so she could twist her hands together. “What did I say about my title?” she reminded him.

Once again he was prevented from speaking, unable to amend his statement before Red and Liam returned from below and joined them. And force of habit kept Emma from dallying, turning to Liam to get right to business.

“I’ve told Terry he may assist you in leading our navigation,” she told him. “He wishes to meet to discuss our course, but make no mistake, you’re taking the reins on this. And I want not a word from you against it,” Emma added, narrowing her gaze as if to prove that she was serious.

Liam nodded, but he wisely remained silent.

“Red, I want you at the helm until one of them takes over.”

“Of course, Emma.”

“Report any relevant information or concerns you have directly to me,” Emma told them. “I’d rather not have to defend the ship from a second mutiny, if it can be avoided.”

Red huffed, shaking her head at the thought. “And if we need you? Where will you be?”

“I will be learning the ins and outs of the ship from Killian—unless he has any objections?” Emma raised an eyebrow, looking to him to confirm. When he did, she continued, “Right then, we’ll remain on deck to keep the crew from deciding to do anything extremely stupid.”

And with that, they dispersed, Red towards the stern and Liam below while Emma led Killian to the forecastle where the fewest men lingered to work. But the eyes of the crew followed the princess wherever she moved, until her biting glare forced their attention back to their tasks.

“Would I be wrong to assume that the two you mentioned are now occupying the brig?” she asked. “Carver and Johnson?”

“No.”

She’d already guessed this, of course, but it was satisfying to have her hunch confirmed. “So I’m also assuming that you know quite a bit about how this crew works, based on the accurate prediction.”

“I suppose,” he replied, eyeing her curiously as they walked along the railing.

“Perfect,” she grinned.

It only took a few strategic questions from her before he was laying out the exact dynamics of the crew, the hierarchy that was always present, the groups that would form in the right climate. With Killian’s knowledge, she had a clear picture of who could be trusted and who she’d encourage to vacate the premises the second they were docked.

Emma had anticipated this. He was perceptive, clever, and his mind worked more like a soldier than a sailor. Killian’s instincts were much like hers, and she would’ve made bets on his intuition.

“What’s in Arendelle?” he asked once his information was exhausted and silence had settled over them.

She sighed, dropping to sit on a nearby barrel. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him, or even that the information was particularly secret, but she hated revealing that she was truly just searching blindly in the dark for anything at all to help her succeed.

“They’re our closest ally that has magic,” she said honestly. It wasn’t all of it, but it was the truth.

He was the curious sort, and she could read all of the questions in his eyes. But he held his tongue for whatever the reason, and the opportunity was lost anyway when Liam joined them. Though Liam’s information was likely vital, she couldn’t help but feel that something else was rather important, too. Red requested an audience before she could consider it further.

They located a secluded part of the deck rather than going below for privacy, neither willing to risk it so soon after the mutiny attempt. Emma braced herself for the oncoming lecture. Well, Red wasn’t exactly the lecturing type, so perhaps she’d simply scold her and move on.

“You did the right thing.”

“I think so, too,” Emma replied.

“Silver is a slimy little bastard, and I can’t say that I’m upset to see him and his friends in the brig,” Red chuckled.

It was true, Emma knew, but she’d expected to have to defend her actions, her recklessness, to her godmother. “So you wanted to talk to me,” Emma prompted.

Red sighed, leaning against the rail that overlooked the deck. “You forget, kid,” she began, “I watched your mother do this the first time. It’s not enough to just get them back, to save them, we need allies. You need allies. And that’s exactly what you’re doing.”

Emma smirked, “You’re telling me to keep up the good work?”

“I’m telling you to use that gut of yours, Emma. Trust it, just as you have been. If you continue to do that, continue to lead the way like you’ve always been trained to, we can’t lose.”

Emma stood at the helm, her sharp eyes trained on the deck before her. Silence enshrouded the ship, only the gentle crashing of the waves sounding in the air. Light was scarce, the half-formed moon above giving her just enough to assure her that all was well.

Red had long since gone to bed, her and Emma’s things moved into the first mate’s quarters for the time being—the previous occupant had recently relocated to less comfortable arrangements far below. Naturally, Emma had dispatched Red to order the Jones brothers into the newly vacant cabin, and she’d been given express instructions to ensure they’d both reapplied the salve. But that was hours ago, and Emma had a few more before Red was due to relieve her at the wheel.

“Liam or I would’ve gladly taken the night shift, Princess.”

Emma turned at the voice, unsurprised to find Killian already beside her. “Be that as it may,” she said, “I still wished for both of you to get a good night’s sleep.”

“And what of our fearless captain?” The moon lit the side of his face, an eyebrow raised in her direction. “Doesn’t she deserve a restful night?”

Her grip tightened on the helm as the memories flickered before her eyes without her permission, the calm nights that turned into chaos foreshadowed only by a single twig snapping or the turn of a doorknob, the things she would’ve missed had she not been awake.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to get anything resembling a restful night,” she confessed bitterly.

“Is this your brilliant war strategy? To be so exhausted that your enemies pity you and surrender?”

She shot him a glare, but his expression didn’t falter, remaining open and questioning. “Fair point,” she relented. “However, my bunk won’t be free until Red returns to take the next shift, and I don’t think the floor would be very comfortable.”

“Ah,” he breathed. “Luckily for you, the matter has been taken care of,” he told her. “I think you’ll find that the captain’s quarters are more to your liking now.”

Concern and frustration made a strange combination in her voice. “Killian, you didn’t—”

He held up a hand. “It was no trouble, I assure you. I found the task much more pleasant when I knew it was for you and not Silver,” he smiled. “And before you can ask, I was careful with my back. Liam checked my stitches, and your handiwork hasn’t been ruined.”

“And now I’m just supposed to let you finish the shift for me? After you worked for who knows how long cleaning that horrible cabin?” she nearly snapped at him, pausing to take a breath. “You need sleep more than I do, Killian. You’re healing.”

“I’ve already slept for a couple of hours, but if it suits you, Your Highness, I’ll rise late tomorrow.”

“I thought I told you to call me Emma,” she interjected.

“And as my brother already said, it isn’t proper.” He didn’t cower beneath her pointed gaze, holding his head high as challenged her.

She deliberated a moment before speaking. “I’ll let you take over as soon as you call me Emma.”

Killian’s eyebrow shot up again, his expression a mixture of irritation and something softer, fondness with an edge of awe that revealed to her that she’d impressed him yet again. Their locked eyes brought a new tension between them this time, until Killian seemed to remember himself and glanced away quickly.

He sighed, and moonlight reflected in his eyes as they moved to meet hers again. “I owe you much,” he said.

“You don’t owe me anything.”

Killian nearly snorted at that. “Saving Liam? Relieving Silver of this ship? Freeing my brother and myself, essentially saving our lives? Tending to my wounds? Giving Liam the chance to be a real sailor?”

“Okay, not nothing,” Emma mumbled. She cleared her throat in an attempt to start over. “I did what was right. Don’t…I don’t want you to feel trapped because of a sense of obligation, not when you’ve just gotten your freedom back.”

His eyes were gentle, almost tender, and she wished it was light enough to see their exact shade. “Don’t you see,” he paused, and when he finally said her name, it was almost a prayer, his lips caressing as he murmured, “Emma?”

She couldn’t reply, not when she was lost in his eyes and his voice and his expression. Where Liam’s use of her name was respect, loyalty, Killian’s was something more. It was something far too deep, vast and powerful like the seas that rocked them. When Killian used her name, it was as if the world trembled around her, pausing for a fraction of a second just to revel in the sound.

“You’ve given us our freedom—freedom to choose,” he continued. “We’ve gone so long having to witness Silver’s atrocities and those done by others just like him, never able to stop it, never able to do anything but watch. But with you here, you’re giving us a chance to do something about it. Now we can do the right thing. And after seeing you today, love, I’m certain that the right thing is to remain at your side.”

Killian smiled, his hand taking the helm. “And you can’t very well lead us into battle if you’re passed out,” he added.

Emma’s hands dropped from their hold on the wheel, and she stepped aside to relinquish her post. He immediately slid into her spot, a satisfied grin stretching across his lips.

“I expect you to rise late, remember,” Emma reminded him.

“Of course.”

“And if there’s trouble—”

“There won’t be.”

“If there’s trouble,” she repeated, “make sure I’m the first to know about it.”

He nodded, “Aye, aye, Captain.”

“Here we go,” she said under her breath, turning away from him to head towards her cabin.

“What’s that?”

“Nothing!” she called over her shoulder. She stopped before she reached the opening, glancing back at him. “Good night, Killian.”

“Good night, Captain.”

It wasn’t her name, but at least it wasn’t ‘Your Highness,’ which was much worse. And he’d said her name once. Given her reaction, it might not have been the best idea to make it a regular occurrence. Besides, there was something about the way he said Captain that felt like…well, it was nice.

The waves lulled Emma to sleep not long after her head hit the pillow, something almost like a smile on her lips as she drifted off.

#captain swan fanfic #ouat ff #cs ff #captain swan #ouat #princess!emma #How Restlessly the Stars Do Gleam #fanfiction #once upon a time #cs fanfic #once fanfic #chapter 1 #my fic

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vaindumbass · 3 years

Text

a series of full moons

((written for @rosemaldrge, happy birthday Em!! I hope you like this hurt/comfort. warnings for mention of blood and wounds))

~~~

“I don’t want you there.” Remus says, and his voice sounds foreign to his own ears, the way it has for almost thirteen years now.

Sirius recoils, and Remus can see anger settling deep into his bones, no matter how much Sirius tries to keep it in (they always knew each other too well). “Why not?”

“The wolf doesn’t know you anymore” I don't know you anymore, Remus wants to say, but he worries that will break them to the point of no return. “He needs time to adjust.” Again, Remus is talking about himself. He has taken Sirius in, yes, but that means he has almost no time alone, and he’s almost glad that he’ll have a few minutes to himself, even if those minutes will only be filled with the promise of pain.

Sirius snaps, a little. “Fuck you.” He says, his voice more ragged than it used to be. “Fuck you and your- the ways you subtly destroy yourself. I can help.”

Remus feels a bit cold, almost detached, looking at the emotions on Sirius’ face. “I’ll be fine. I’ve been going through them alone for thirteen years now.”

Sirius’ jaw moves in the tell-tale way that lets Remus know he’s gritting his teeth, but he doesn’t say anything. Remus nods, and walks out of the room.

The basement Remus uses to transform in is cold, and dark, and so, so silent. For a moment, he rests his back against the wall, his head hanging down, and suddenly he misses his old friends so much that it aches. He closes his eyes.

~~~

“Moony!” James had said, hazel eyes big and bright from where he sat next to Remus’ hospital bed. “You’re awake.”

Remus had blinked back at him, and then he had blinked at the sandwiches that were held out in front of him. James grinned at him. “Pomfrey said you’d need food to recover.΅

Tentatively, Remus had reached out and taken a small bite. Remus felt as if he had never eaten before, as if his mouth processed tastes and textures for the very first time. He remembered reading somewhere that cooking was something only humans did, and in that moment, he felt really, truly human. In short, it was delicious. James’ grin became wider when Remus told him so.

“Peter and Sirius are getting some sort of ointment from Pomfrey that’s supposed to help,” James had said, in response to Remus’ unspoken question.

Closely after that, Peter and Sirius had come back, and as soon as Sirius had reached Remus’ bed he’d taken the one of Remus’ arms that had the biggest wound, and started putting the ointment on it carefully, making sure not to hurt Remus. It felt like a caress.

James had chuckled. “Don’t you think that Remus can do that himself?”

Sirius had immediately stopped, smiling sheepishly up at Remus, the lightest of red on his cheeks. “I don’t mind.” is what Remus had said, shrugging, his heart beating in his ears.

With a small smile, Sirius had continued. James and Peter came to sit on the bed next to him, and Peter had handed him a bit of chocolate. Sitting there with his friends, Remus had felt truly happy, no matter what he’d gone through only a few hours before.

~~~

The floor of Remus’ basement is still cold the next morning, as he finds out when he lies there, naked, with a bleeding leg. That doesn’t stop him from slumbering there for a few moments, trying to slowly come back into his body, to absentmindedly flex his fingers and his toes.

He stops, abruptly, when the door swings open. Sirius is standing in the doorway, a plate in his hands, and he starts walking towards Remus, starts kneeling down next to him--

Remus stands up and smacks the plate right out of his hands. It’s accidental, or, well, from the right angle it looks accidental, with Remus being slightly wobbly and unsure on his feet, but Remus doesn’t regret what happened in the slightest.

“You don’t get to-,” he blurts out, and his feelings are too big, too complicated to fit into something as banal as words, but actions aren’t helping either, the satisfaction from the broken plate is long gone (was it even there in the first place?), “You’re not-”

His sentences get stuck in his throat because he’s awful at this, at talking about- talking about-

There is plain, open hurt on Sirius’ face, and Remus wonders if he somehow lost his emotionless mask in Azkaban. “Okay,” Sirius says, “I’ll- Okay.” He walks away with slumped shoulders, but his steps are quick, and Remus wants him to come back and he wants to never see him again.

And then Sirius is gone and Remus is alone again and he can’t look away from the shards of the broken plate, from the sandwiches strewn between them, from how even now they’ve fallen apart, it’s visible that the slices of bread were cut the exact same way James always used to.

~~~

They ignore what happened. Remus feels awful about lashing out, about showing something of a monstrous nature, and Remus hates talking about his feelings, however awful they may be. Sirius seems to accept that, and doesn’t move when, the next full moon, Remus walks down to the basement.

Remus wakes up warm, comfortable. He immediately knows something is wrong. When he finally manages to wretch his eyes open, he sees he’s curled up around a black, soft shape.

He doesn’t even need to blink again to recognize that it’s Sirius in his animagus form. The muscles of his stomach clench almost involuntarily, as if they’re trying to keep his anger down. He stands up, and he isn’t shaking, he isn’t even bleeding. It only serves to make him more furious, however irrational that might be.

“I know you’re awake, Sirius.”

A grey eye opens slowly, and looks at him. Remus looks back, stubbornly, until he’s looking at a man instead of a dog.

“I told you not to come.” Remus says, and it echoes a bit, in this room that is so used to being empty.

“I promised I’d take care of you.”

That hurts, and it hurts even more because it’s aimed at that place in himself that he has tried so hard to protect, to build walls around, to forget about.

“No,” he responds, his voice on the edge of cracking, “we promised we’d take care of each other. You, James, and-” his voice falls over the edge, “-and Peter.”

The gray of Sirius’ eyes looks a bit like steel. “And you. You promised too.”

“Look how well that turned out.”

Sirius stands up straighter, and Remus observes how he seems almost thirteen years younger, all the wrinkles that Remus wasn’t there to see the origin of disappearing, anger taking its place. “I’m trying, Remus, but you’re not even taking care of yourself, you don’t even fucking have wolfsbane!”

“Wolfsbane isn’t exactly cheap, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“You could have asked me.”

“You could have not gotten thrown into Azkaban.” It’s a cheap shot, and Remus is very, very aware of that, but finally he’s getting a memory that is so sharp and broken that it fits exactly against his splintered edges. He’d forgotten how good it felt to fight with Sirius.

Sirius rises to the bait like Remus knew he would, hackles raised. “You could have gotten me out of Azkaban, but no, why would you ever go after anything you want? Anything that could make your life better?”

Remus doesn’t even deny that Sirius could possibly make his life better, the lump in his throat is too big for that. He works around it carefully, making deep cuts with the precision of a surgeon. “You should have tried to take care of me thirteen years ago. It’s too late now.”

Sirius sets a step closer, and finally does Remus see the furious glint in his eyes. It fills him with anticipation, because while he’s hurting Sirius, the only thing that’s keeping him standing is that Sirius is hurting him back. He feels alive, horrifically so.

“You could have gotten Harry.” Sirius says, and there’s a pause, in which Remus realizes he wasn’t prepared at all, this wouldn’t even vaguely be like old times, because Remus had made so much more mistakes since then. “You could have gotten him out of there. He lived in a cupboard for eleven fucking years. You could have prevented that.”

“I-” Remus starts, “I put a protection charm on him, after- after the tournament. It’ll keep him safe from everything, dementors, other wizards-- I’ll keep him safe.”

Sirius laughs, but it’s far from the laugh that Remus used for his patronus before- before it all. It’s the one that plagues Remus’ nightmares, the one that sounds as if it scrapes itself out of Sirius’ throat with the sharpest claws, the one that feels as if it scratches over Remus’ heart, cutting ever so slightly through the surface. “That’s not enough. You know that’s not enough.”

Sirius sounds an awful amount like the voice in the back of his head, and Remus deals with him the same way he does with the voice. “Leave.” he says, or maybe he yells it at the top of his lungs. He’s not sure. He does know, however, that Sirius leaves, casually stomping on what’s left of Remus’ heart as he goes.

Of course that’s the moment other memories start to flood him. Did fighting with Sirius always leave him this drained, this tired, this sad? Yes, his memories tell him, but this time you managed to fuck it up even more than you used to.

He wonders how they used to make up after fights. Because of Peter, his memories whisper in his ear, biting down on every piece of him they could reach, he was always the one to get you guys to talk to each other again, but he’s not here anymore, is he?

~~~

They stop talking for about a month. It’s not the easiest thing, what with living in the same house and all, but Remus only ever politely asks for the salt, and Sirius will hand it to him, and then they’ll go their separate ways. Sirius isn’t supposed to get out of the house, but it’s a muggle town, and Sirius would go crazy otherwise, so Remus doesn’t say anything.

He also doesn’t say anything when Sirius buys groceries, and he’s silent when Sirius tells Dumbledore that he, once again, refuses to go to grimmauld place, and he doesn’t protest when he finds new books in his bookcase. Remus knows that Sirius knows that means something, but he only speaks right before the full moon.

“You could stay,” Remus says. He has thought about this extensively, but only now realises that Sirius may not want to. “If you’d like.”

Sirius stays.

And it cracks Remus’ heart right open. He wants to ask Sirius, right then and there, if he’d maybe also like to try and be together again, to wake up next to each other again, to take care of each other again. But it’s too much, too soon, so for now he just offers Sirius his hand when they walk down the stairs that lead to the basement, and smiles when Sirius takes it.

~~~

Remus wakes up free of pain, once again cuddled up to Sirius. He stretches, and gives Sirius a tentative smile, that is returned, lips stretching slowly.

Remus kisses him. It’s accidental, more impulsive than Remus can ever remember being, but he doesn’t think it could be avoided, and Sirius doesn’t seem to mind.

Remus doesn’t mind the cold floor as long as he can put his right hand in Sirius’ hair, as long as Sirius’ left hand is on his waist, as long as their other hands are holding each other.

It’s soft, and sweet, and everything they haven’t allowed themselves to be for years. Sirius pulls back a little, only to gently kiss the scar that crosses Remus’ lips, a scar that Sirius wasn’t there to see the origin of. Remus grips his hand tighter.

Sirius’ hand moves a little, and Remus hisses through his teeth. “What is it?” Sirius says, worried, hastily breaking their kiss.

“Just a bruise.” Remus presses his lips one last, lingering time to Sirius’ jaw, then makes to stand up. “Pomfrey gave me something for it, it’s upstairs.”

Their hands are still entangled when they walk up the stairs again. Remus catches Sirius looking down at them, and then smiling broadly before looking up. Remus is sure his face shows the same giddy excitement.

Sirius lets go just before they reach the living room, and quickly ducks into the bathroom before Remus can, returning with a jar of ointment. “Let me?”, he asks, grey eyes open and vulnerable.

Remus nods, and quickly takes off his shirt, avoiding looking down on his bare and bony chest. He’s thankful that Sirius’ eyes linger only a moment on the newer scars, and then Sirius’ hands are on him, a shock of cold that somehow manages to make Remus feel warm inside.

Somehow, it feels even more intimate than the kiss they shared in the basement. It’s hard to look at Sirius, but Remus can’t resist, and he doesn’t regret it in the slightest, not when Sirius seems so focused on patching him up, his long hair falling over the side of his face.

Remus reaches out and tucks it behind Sirius’ ear in what he knows is an incredibly cliché move, but Sirius has always made him do silly things. It gets Sirius’ to focus his heavy gaze on him, though, so it’s not all bad.

“Would you sleep in my room?”, he asks, and it’s not the best way to start this conversation, but as Sirius laughs he figures that it isn’t the worst way either.

“How bold. Yes, I’d like that.” Sirius smiles softly at him, in a way that could fuel a hundred more patronuses, and Remus’ poor heart skips a beat.

He scrapes his throat. “Good. Then Harry could take your old room. Do you think he’d like it?”

Sirius laughs again, a bit more wetly this time, and says: “I’m sure he’d love it. I’d love it.”

Remus closes his eyes, and leans his forehead against Sirius’. “Me too.”

They sit that way for several peaceful heartbeats, and it’s the most at home Remus has ever felt in this place.

Then, he opens his eyes. “I think it’s time we send Harry a letter. I heard they’ve got Umbridge as teacher, and that boy will need all the support he can get when he’s forced to interact with that bigoted bootlicker.”

Sirius laughs, as delighted as he always is, was, and used to be whenever Remus cursed around him. “Let’s do it.”, he says, and Remus knows he’s not just talking about the letter-writing, but also about everything it implies, about the bed-sharing, about being together again, about taking care of each other, and Harry, too.

Remus smiles at him. “Let’s.”

#asjdslf would u believe i meant to post this about 8 hours ago #whoops #whyyyy do i always go all out on the hurt/comfort #remus lupin #sirius black #i havent written lie low at lupin's before so this was fun to explore #wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #was that whole conversation abt Umbridge based on the one (1) time Sirius says 'u should hear the way Remus talks abt her'? ....maybe #remusxsirius #marauders #there are now at least three full moons in the lie low at Lupins period i stretched canon as if it was an elastic #no but seriously asfkj if u noticed how i did that!! thatd be neat #mywriting

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aion-rsa · 3 years

Text

Midnight Mass: It’s Time to Talk About That Monstrous Twist

https://ift.tt/39I2zkp

This article contains huge spoilers for Midnight Mass. So help me God if you read this without watching the series first…

The version of Midnight Mass that Netflix advertised still would have made for a compelling horror series.

An isolated, insular island community? Great. A young, charismatic preacher suddenly coming to town to shake things up? Perfect. That preacher proving capable of performing minor miracles? Love it, no notes!

Of course, as viewers who have watched at least four episodes of the seven-episode series now know, Midnight Mass has one extra supernatural twist in mind that elevates an already interesting story to true mind-blowing status. Critics were understandably asked to keep this aspect of the show a secret before it premiered. So please indulge me as I finally slay these embargo demons and get it off my chest.

Vampires. Vampires! V-A-M-P-I-R-E-S. VAMPIRES! VAMPIRES VAMPIRES VAMPIRES! Literally like Dracula. And Nosferatu. Anne Rice’s Lestat. Stephen King’s ‘Salem’s Lot. Vampires. VAMPIRES, BRO, VAMPIRES.

For creator Mike Flanagan, a filmmaker influenced by all manner of classic horror, bringing the fanged bloodsuckers to life was a long time coming.

“My favorite vampire movie is (Werner) Herzog’s Nosferatu,” Flanagan told Den of Geek and other outlets prior to the premiere of Midnight Mass. “That film is the vampire story as high art. I also adore From Dusk Till Dawn. I read Dracula young enough for it to really burrow in for me. And I read ‘Salem’s Lot early enough to color an enormous amount of work that I’ll do for the rest of my life.”

Midnight Mass’s depiction of the mythological undead beast and how it can neatly fit into Christian dogma is one of the most satisfying horror twists in years. Now that the truth is out, let’s discuss Midnight Mass and how it conflates vampires and biblical angels.

Mistaking a Vampire for an Angel

The interesting thing about Midnight Mass is that it clearly takes place in a universe where the average person has no knowledge of what a vampire is. Even Sarah Gunning (Annabeth Gish), arguably the most well-read person on Crockett Island, has to do some research into “porphyria cutanea tarda” (a.k.a. the real life “vampire disease”). This is similar to The Walking Dead’s approach to zombies, in which the “z” word and George A. Romero’s name are never spoken. This strategy in Midnight Mass allows for a truly fascinating case of mistaken identity.

While viewers immediately know that the creature Monsignor John Pruitt (Hamish Linklater) encounters is a vampire, he believes it to be an angel. Given how studied Pruitt is in the Bible and Cathloic theology, it’s entirely understandable why he would think a tall, muscular, bald-headed beast with fangs and leathery wings is an angel. As it turns out, the angels of the Old Testament can be truly terrifying.

Not all angels are soft-featured human-like creatures with fluffy white bird wings. Some, like Seraphim, Cherubim, and Thrones are designed to intimidate God’s enemies. In the New Testament’s Book of Luke, an angel visits Zechariah and immediately asks him to “be not afraid” because the angel can see the poor guy absolutely shaking in his boots upon his arrival. Angels being terrifying is even something of an Internet meme, with users contrasting the phrase “be not afraid” with images of truly monstrous beasts.

Not only does Pruitt’s vampire have the vague appearance of an angel, it also apparently holds the secrets to eternal life as promised in the Bible. By merely drinking some of the “angel’s” blood, a good Christian can live forever just like God says. Does that blood-drinking sacrament sound familiar? It did to Mike Flanagan.

“In Bible school I used to say ‘if the wine turns into Jesus’s blood literally and we’re drinking it so that we can live forever … that seems like a short leap to vampiric myth.’”

Of course, drinking the angel’s fluids in the case of Midnight Mass also leads to some unwanted side effects like a thirst for blood and extreme sensitivity to sunlight. Thankfully, good ol’ Bev Keane always has a Bible quote ready to go for that. When read through the proper perspective, the Holy Bible may as well be the original vampire story.

The Rules of Vampirism

“The thing that I love about the vampire as a cinematic tool is how malleable it is,” Flanagan says. “We all agree that there is no canon. There are no rules. In fact, part of the joy is seeing what rules people cherry pick as they approach a vampire story.”

All depictions of vampires are indeed quite different. Vampires can range from the classic Stoker-ian monster to Twilight’s nigh-invulnerable sparkle bois. Midnight Mass’s version of the vampire leans towards the classic, albeit with some tweaks. In terms of appearance, The Angel (as we will be calling Midnight Mass’s O.G. vampire for simplicity’s sake) has a more bestial look like Nosferatu rather than an aristocratic one like Count Dracula or Anne Rice’s creations.

“We winked at (Nosferatu the Vampyr actor) Klaus Kinski a few times when we designed our guy,” Flanagan says.

Though the Angel resembles Nosferatu in appearance, its vulnerabilities owe more to Rice’s The Vampire Chronicles. Religious iconography does not appear to hurt the Angel nor its thralls. Traditional human weapons like bullets or blades also do no harm (at least not mortally). These vampires are, however, tremendously susceptible to both fire and sunlight. Exposure to the latter for even a few seconds is enough to kill the Angel and his many acolytes.

Why Midnight Mass is Mike Flanagan’s Most Personal Work

By Alec Bojalad

Midnight Mass Cast: Previous Credits From Hill House to Bly Manor, Legion & Sherlock

By Louisa Mellor

Like in Rice’s works as well, the path to creating a new vampire is quite simple. Step 1: Drink its blood. Step 2: Die. In Dracula and ‘Salem’s Lot, the method of vampire creation is merely being bit by one, zombie-style. Rice and Flanagan’s approach is quite a bit more intentional and interesting. It also opens the door for perhaps Midnight Mass’s most ingenious storytelling quirk: communion. John Pruitt is able to get nearly the entirety of Crockett Island to become a vampire by spiking the communion wine with his buddy’s blood. Then, all that remains is for them to poison themselves to death, Jonestown-style.

The mass “resurrection” scene in which the congregation awakes as their new vampire selves also provides some insight to just how hard it is to contain the vampire’s overwhelming hunger. Riley Flynn was able to resist it when he turned because John Pruitt babysat him like a psychedelic mushroom guide. The plan for the rest of the congregation was to have their babysitters as well but that didn’t quite work out. Still, Riley’s dad Ed makes it clear to his wife Annie, that even if it’s hard to resist the call for blood, it’s not impossible.

“When I saw them at the church, I thought it was something they really couldn’t help. Like something impossible not to do. But it isn’t, Annie,” he says.

Maybe if more vampires were like Ed Flynn, a whole island full of vampires wouldn’t be too bad of a thing in the first place.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

How to Defeat a Vampire

While every vampire story presents its own unique take on the creature, the answer on how to defeat a vampire is usually the same: by doing it together.

“We poor humans only have so much that we can give,” Flanagan says. “We’re ill-equipped as individuals to make any kind of meaningful stand. The only way evil in the world can be brought down is through collective effort. That’s something Stoker understands inherently. It’s clearly something King understands.”

Alongside the aforementioned Bram Stoker and Stephen King, Flanagan presents a small team of humans at story’s end who will do what it takes to defeat evil, even if it means dying in the process. Erin Greene (Kate Siegel), Dr. Sarah Gunning, Sheriff Hassan (Rahul Kohli), Annie Flynn (Kristin Lehman), Warren Flynn (Igby Rigney), and Leeza Scarborough (Annarah Cymone) are the six residents of Crockett Island brave enough to try to take down the Angel. All but two (Warren and Leeza) die. They do succeed in eliminating the immediate threat on Crockett Island but it’s possible the Angel made it away to suck blood another day, damaged wings and all.

What’s interesting about Midnight Mass’s “final crew” is that six appears to be the magic number when it comes to taking down a vampire. Stoker’s Dracula has six heroes: Jonathan Harker, Mina Harker nèe Murray, Arthur Holmwood (Lord Godalming), John Seward, Quincey Morris, and Abraham Van Helsing (of which, only poor American cowboy Quincey Morris dies). King’s ‘Salem’s Lot also has six: Ben Mears, Matt Burke, Susan Norton, Mark Petrie, Jimmy Cody, and Father Callahan (of which, decidedly more than one of them die). This strange bit of arithmancy is something we asked Flanagan about.

“The number was certainly not intentional,” he says. “Once it was clear that Riley was not going to be carrying the torch to the end it really was about asking ‘who are the characters who seem in the very beginning to be at a disadvantage and how do we empower them in the end?’ This was gonna be played out by Sarah Gunning, Sheriff Hassan, and everyone else who would get to just give a little piece.”

Considering that Erin and company were outnumbered about 117 to six, it was a pretty good showing for Crockett Island’s last humans standing.

All seven episodes of Midnight Mass are available to stream on Netflix now.

The post Midnight Mass: It’s Time to Talk About That Monstrous Twist appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3CPaitL

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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siorca · 3 years

Note

Autobots set up cameras to spy on the Decepticons but they instead witness Momma Soundwave (any verse)

Anon I have no idea why you send me this prompt because I literally have not written in years, but I felt inspired. Didn’t edit, might fuck around and put a proper version on my AO3:

“What are you doing?”

Ratchet was tired, and the throb of a processor ache buzzed between his optics. His voice echoed his state, dull and unperturbed where he might have shown a level of concern on a good day. Meetings with Prowl tended to do that. Primus, did he have respect for that mech, but how frustrating it was to sway his stubborn nature on issues of medicine.

Sideswipe spared him a passing glance, returning to his task with added fever, as if completing it quickly could keep Ratchet from spoiling his fun. Ratchet had pulled rank on him for more minor infractions before. In a rare case of fortune, Ratchet had no interest in the resulting paperwork today.

Laid before him was one of the few drones that the Ark still had left, between the crash, Decepticon interference, and drunken Autobot hassling. Its simple processor was split open neatly, and Sideswipe moved between its internals with precision. In another life, Ratchet would have gladly mentored him as a junior surgeon for such a display, but knowing what he knew of him after millions of years, he could only muster a vague sort of impressed detachment.

Sunstreaker was only a few feet away, not contributing much, aside from a cool atmosphere, leaned against the wall like he was the last line of defense before a sudden collapse. While Sunstreaker rarely participated in Sideswipe’s more mischievous endeavors, he was never far behind to witness the fallout, like a specter of misfortune. A classic form of sibling bonding, in Ratchet’s experience.

He locked optics with Ratchet, raising an expectant optic ridge, the edges of a smug smile pulling at his lips. Ratchet waved at him in polite greeting.

Sideswipe let out a loud huff, hovering over his pet project protectively when he realized Ratchet wasn’t moving - mostly because a majority of the hallway had been turned into a makeshift workshop and Ratchet ached in too many places to try maneuvering around the little space left for travel.

“I’m winning a bet,” he said, oozing the brand of determined confidence that only Sideswipe was foolish enough to exude. Ratchet rubbed his optics, unimpressed, trying to keep his processor ache from spreading. Deflated, Sideswipe fiddled with his screwdriver a moment more, ducking back into his task, neatly and swiftly installing a small camera in the midst of the fissures he had created in the cranial unit.

“And what bet involves you vandalizing Autobot property?”

“He thinks the Decepticons have a pet sea monster,” Sunstreaker supplied, helpfully. “He got hooked on one of Hound’s stories about Earth creatures.”

“What?” said Sideswipe, incensed. “Just because the humans haven’t been able to get much scientific proof, doesn’t mean the Decepticons haven’t discovered something they missed. They live down there, for Primus’ sake!”

“Don’t you think they would have managed to outfit it with some sort of Cyber-tech to make our lives more difficult by now? Megatron would have at least called to brag the first deca-cycle they captured it.”

“Maybe they’re saving it for a secret mission? You never know!”

Ratchet’s shushed them, waving his hands frantically to avoid a brawl. Sunstreaker still looked unperturbed, but Sideswipe’s hackles were raised enough to hint at an inevitable pounce. Sideswipe pouted, welding the suffering drone back together with far more force than was necessary. The camera poked out of its head inelegantly, though blinking steady enough to prove that it worked.

Ratchet held onto only enough processing power to put the pieces together.“Are you...planning on breaking into the Decepticon base with that? To see if they have a sea monster?”

Ratchet was impressed, truth be told. This sort of ingenuity was something that Jazz would be interested in. It was almost a shame that Sideswipe was not cut out for Special Ops. Still, he could appreciate the craftsmanship, not to mention the sheer absurdity of going to these levels for the sake of pride. It reminded him of something Wheeljack would do, and it was only the fond thought of his conjunx that fueled his further investment.

“Yeah. Good to make sure the ‘cons aren’t planning anything.” Sunstreaker scoffed behind him. Sideswipe shot a glare over his shoulder.

“Huh,” said Ratchet. “If only you could muster this much effort on any of your assigned projects.”

Sideswipe sputtered in indignation, standing from his crouched position. He naturally towered over Ratchet, but knew better than to use his bulk for intimidation where Ratchet was involved. Sunstreaker snickered behind him. The drone, which had finished powering up, chirped, hovering around Sideswipe’s knees like an eager youngling.

Sideswipe gathered himself, brushing past

Ratchet brusquely. “Excuse me, I have a point to make,” he shot over his shoulder. The drone chirped again, matching his pace quickly. Sunstreaker peeled himself away from the wall, trailing behind him, sighing dramatically.

Ratchet looked down the empty expanse of hallway, his quarters tantalizingly close. The processor ache was starting to fade, replaced with a dangerous curiosity. “You doing this now?”

“No time better.”

“Curfew is soon.”

“So?” said Sideswipe, crossing his arms in a defensive manner.

Ratchet sighed, cursing every weak process in his body that caused him to make equally as foolish decisions as those around him. “So, it’s best to have an officer escort you. After all, said officer might be able to cover for you if you happen to be late.”

Sideswipe grinned. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m more so interested in seeing if your monstrosity can get the job done.” Said monstrosity beeped irritatedly, as if its neglect was a personal affront to something that held no personality.

Sunstreaker groaned. “Don’t encourage him. This is only going to end badly.”

“Most likely, but what else do we have to do right now?” said Ratchet, trailing after the strange trio and out of the base.

—

The sun was just beginning to set by the time they made it to the shore, the pinks and oranges of the sky reflecting on the ocean in a dazzling kaleidoscope. In the distance, the one moon was beginning to peek through the clouds, struggling to outshine the fiery final performance of the sun. Humans found something romantic in such periods of transition. Ratchet, of a species who built their existence out of transformations, remained nonplussed.

“Mirage mentioned a security loophole near the back hull of the Nemesis a while back. Fancy words for ‘there’s a hole in it.’ Salt water makes it difficult for repairs to take, I guess.” Sideswipe placed the drone near the edge of the water, facing the general direction of where the Nemesis lay dormant. The drone did not move, ever eagerly awaiting orders.

Ratchet made a humming noise. On the other side of the beach, Sunstreaker was hassling a tiny crab that didn’t make it back to the water before low tide. It couldn’t harm him, yet it’s posturing begged to differ. If force of will could kill a mech, Sunstreaker would be in critical condition right now. Sunstreaker smiled crookedly at the creature, taking care not to accidentally step on it.

Sideswipe reached into his subspace for a datapad, tapping at it with his stylus in a rhythmic manner while he waited for it to fully boot up.

“Rigged this up.” Sideswipe waved the awakened pad, the crisp image of the sunset on full view.

“Clever,” said Ratchet. “You even sure the drone’s going to survive the water?” Most Cybertronian tech did not play well with salt water. One of the drawbacks of being born on a planet that was not intimate with the substance.

“It’s survived this long. Seems to be made of sturdier stuff than the average drone.” Sideswipe patted it good-naturedly on the shoulder.

“If you say so. Let’s get started before a ‘con patrol shows up.” Ratchet waved Sunstreaker over. He grumbled something too low to hear, moving down the beach. Once reunited, he folded his arms, cocking one hip to the side in his usual aloof stance, shooting his brother a challenging glare. Sideswipe stuck his glossa out at him in retaliation.

Sideswipe turned his attention to the datapad. He nudged the drone with his foot. It beeped, inching its way forward slowly. He nudged it again, the drone making a more affronted noise, quickening its pace.

There was a palpable tension as the drone immersed itself, the watery image of the Pacific melting into itself as the camera adjusted to its new temporary home. The image crisped the deeper it went, the shapes of small fish, scampering away from their newest visitor, becoming clearer. Sideswipe let out a whoop of excitement, the drone dutifully fulfilling its task and Sunstreaker huffed in annoyance.

“Well I’ll be slagged,” said Ratchet, placing his hands on his hips in astonishment. Autobot ingenuity was truly only at its best when petty pride was involved.

The drone traveled deeper, the pressure of the depths squeezing around the hydraulics in its lower half, slowing its momentum only slightly. The remains of the Nemesis were laid deep, near to the point where light had difficulty penetrating to the sea floor. Just enough sunlight peeked through to illuminate the remains of coral and the clinging vines of seaweed crisscrossing the outer hull. It looked monstrous in the semi-dark. If any sea monsters were lurking here, the Nemesis could certainly qualify as one with the right argument.

A large hole, poorly obscured by a large wad of algae, pocketed the side, toward the back. Small creatures hovered near it, mistaking it for a haven from the larger predators. The drone made its way through the throng, scampering up the remaining shrapnel that passed for a crude ramp into the interior. Inside, the Decepticons had managed to use some feat of engineering to stave off the water after a few feet. The result was a lagoon in the middle of what Ratchet would assume was the remains of part of the cargo bay.

Emergency lights flickered overhead, bathing the otherwise empty space in an eerie, energon-pink glow. The bay was smaller than expected, only made more obvious by the tall wall of concrete, sectioning off one side, no doubt to protect their precious mechanical stores on the other side. The drone gave a quick sweep of the area.

Sunstreaker tapped his foot impatiently. “Nothing here.”

“Yeah, yeah, we just got here,” shushed Sideswipe.

A convenient ventilation shaft lay across the room, wide enough to pass through. The drone meandered its way there, clambering inside with little effort. The tunnel was dark, but the basic night vision on the drone could make out the forward path.

“They probably have it stored somewhere where they can keep an eye on it,” said Sideswipe, matter-of-factly.

Ratchet kept a close optic on the screen, his sharp senses picking up the tell tale notes of conversation. Up ahead, a vent peaked out into a hallway, somewhere near the living quarters. Ratchet hushed them, pointing at the screen firmly. Valuable reconnaissance was important, regardless if sea monsters were involved or not.

Sideswipe commandeered the drone toward the vent, tilting the datapad to encourage the drone to look through the grates. It pressed up against them firmly. Even distorted, the distinct, blocky shape of Soundwave was hard to mistake, two smaller bodies with him that could only be his own pair of twins.

One brother was cradled in his arms with a painful looking dent in his right cheek. A sour frown marred his face while his body sagged in an overdramatic sprawl over Soundwave’s arm. The other had his arms crossed over his chest, his visible forearm sporting a nasty scratch, petulant scowl twisting his features.

“You must mind your strength, Rumble. You nearly cracked Frenzy’s optic,” chastised Soundwave, gentle and firm in only the way a creator could manage. There weren’t many of those left, between the two armies, and it only made it extra bizarre to hear such a rare tone from Soundwave, of all mechs.

It was obvious that the drone had stumbled upon some sort of familiar conflict. Perhaps not imperative to the war effort, but tantalizing all the same.

“Should they be doing this out in the hallway?” said Sideswipe, absentmindedly.

Sunstreaker shrugged. “Maybe it’s a Decepticon thing.”

On the feed, a loud huff came from Rumble. “Well, he started it!”

“And yet I have told both of you multiple times to stop rough-housing.”

“Soundwave, I’m fine,” piped up Frenzy, drooping further down Soundwave’s hip. He seemed to be trying to turn himself into pure liquid in order to escape his creator’s arms. Soundwave only tightened his hold.

“That is not the point. You will seriously hurt each other one day. Last week, you nearly blew out Rumble’s audials. What will it be next time?” Soundwave’s words must have struck a nerve. Frenzy had the decency to look bashful, pausing in his squirming. Rumble simply pursed his lips.

“Both of you must be more careful until you have better control of your sigma abilities.” Soundwave finally freed Frenzy from his makeshift prison, who promptly scampered to his brother’s side.

Soundwave’s concern was familiar to Ratchet, echoing a time long ago when creators used to bring their Outlier sparklings to his Dead End clinic. Those whose abilities were extreme enough to affect their health or those around them and the rarer cases of those that thought he might be able to help control their abilities.

He empathized with him. Soundwave himself was an infamously powerful telepath, and it was only logical that his creations would inherit some sort of power. The proof was in their terror on the battlefield, the few times that they had participated in the more small scale scuffles. He had nearly forgotten how this would reflect in what would pass for home these days.

Soundwave sighed, for the moment deflated. “Go to Hook. He owes me a favor. Make sure to behave yourselves.” The twins nodded, for now behaving themselves as they made their way down the opposite side of the hallway. Soundwave, himself walked a few doors down, assuredly to his own quarters.

Sideswipe pulled the drone away from the grate. “Give them a few days, they’ll be right back to trying to kill each other.”

Sunstreaker grinned. “Wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a round 2 before they hit the medbay.”

Ratchet barked a laugh. “Probably.”

“Now to find that sea monster.”

#cass fics

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