#is she a person whose approval i would seek? yes. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shiftingparadise · 1 year

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do u think you'll ever continue soft spot? <3 every part was so goodd!! I loved it so much, your writing is a gift

I'm so glad you like it! I'd love to continue writing Soft Spot fics. , I'll keep this series going as long as you guys like it 🤍✨ (so, if one of you wants a specific thing to happen next, be sure to let me know!).

Warnings: ✨ smut ✨ Chrollo's mean in the beginning, but the story ends really fluffly 🥺✨

Word Count: 2143

‘So’, Chrollo closed his eyes while politely wiping his mouth, ‘Are we going to talk about what happened yesterday?’.

You didn't answer, and neither did Feitan.

‘What’s wrong, darling? You obviously didn’t like Feitan and me arguing about you’.

‘Nothing’s wrong’.

You couldn’t tell him, right? The way your body ached more for Feitan’s than for his.

‘Feitan?’, Chrollo coldly looked at his second man.

‘Want to eat in silence’, Feitan sighed, ‘Nothing to say anyway’.

‘Still don’t want to share our darling?’, Chrollo’s eyes were locked with Feitan’s, ‘She wants us to’.

You silently took a sip from your wine. You weren’t going to argue. The thought of Feitan watching as Chrollo touched you always made your heart beat faster.

‘She wants me. She hates you’.

‘Is that so?’, Chrollo now smirked, ‘Haven’t you told Fei how you kept begging me to fuck you when he wasn’t talking to you?’.

‘Hm’, you hastily turned your head, too embarrassed to answer.

‘Tsk’, Feitan loudly dropped his cutlery, his eyes burning with rage. He was always so composed and cold, but when it came to you, he couldn’t keep his cool. ‘What’s wrong, Fei? You really thought she-‘.

‘Enough’, you quietly interrupted, your voice shaking with anger, ‘I’ve had enough. If you can’t stop arguing, I’ll leave-‘.

You couldn’t, right? Did you forget? You were still a prisoner.

Chrollo clicked his tongue, his finger waving in the air, ‘Come now darling, don’t make me remind you what your place is. I love you, don’t get me wrong, but you’re still my property. You can’t leave, ever’.

‘Sorry’, you lowered your head, afraid of the consequences.

Feitan noticed the pain in your eyes, the way you longed for your freedom, but there wasn’t anything he could do. Chrollo was still his boss, and he still respected him, even though he didn’t like sharing you. Without Chrollo, the spiders would’ve never left that dump. They would still live in poverty between the rats and junk.

‘Not good enough, darling. Why don’t you show me how sorry you are?’, he smugly replied as he unbuckled his belt, ‘You don’t mind, right Fei?’.

‘H-huh?’, you widened your eyes, hands nervously fiddling at the bottom of your nightgown - yes, Chrollo still forced you to wear that cursed thing.

‘Show me’, Chrollo’s cold gaze pierced through your skin.

Feitan wanted to leave, he really did because he hated when Chrollo touched you, but he wasn’t going to, was he? You were going to touch him, to please him and for some reason, Feitan wanted to see it. He wanted to see what you looked like as you pleased his boss. Were you going to be just as cute and careful as you were with him?

You couldn’t help but look at Feitan, seeking some kind of approval in his eyes.

‘What’s this?’, Chrollo chuckled, ‘The only person whose approval you need is mine, darling. Now, I’ve been very patient up until now, but I can’t help but get angry when you disrespect me like that’.

‘S-sorry’, you shyly placed a strand of hair behind your ear as you walked towards Chrollo, ‘W-what do you want me to-‘.

He roughly pulled on your wrist, forcing you onto your knees.

‘I’m tired of your behavior when Fei’s in the room’, he pulled you in front of him, his thumb now gently stroking over your cheek, ‘Is it so hard to show me some respect? I’m the one who takes care of you. Who buys your clothes, who feeds you, who makes sure you have a warm bed… So why do you only have eyes for Feitan?’.

‘C-chrollo that’s not-‘, ‘You don’t get to talk right now’.

You could feel Feitan’s eyes burning at the back of your head. Chrollo made sure your back was turned to Feitan, so your ass was on display for him to watch. Feitan didn’t want to share you, so this was his punishment. He could look at your perfect ass while Chrollo enjoyed you.

‘Hm’, Chrollo smirked as he guided you, ‘Fei’s getting jealous darling’.

He was. He wanted to feel the warmth of your mouth around his member, and the way it was now pressing against his underwear made it all the more painful to watch.

‘What’s wrong Fei? Having second thoughts?’, Chrollo pulled on your dress, causing you to whimper as you felt the cold against your skin, cheeks red with embarrassment.

‘Huh?’, Feitan widened his eyes as he saw the wet stain in your underwear. ‘What? You really thought she wasn’t going to like this?’, Chrollo grabbed your jaw, his eyes still locked on Feitan as he kissed you. 'Are you pretending this is Fei's? After all, he's your favorite, isn't he? You care more about him than me, so I can't imagine you want to make me feel this good'. ‘I-I’m yours’, you quietly responded, not daring to look at Feitan. ‘You are, but your heart doesn’t belong to me, does it?’.

Silence. Nothing more, nothing less.

‘I-I care for you both’. ‘But you don’t love me like you love Fei’, Chrollo clenched his jaw, ‘I had to force you to wear this, but you wear Fei’s charm so proudly’.

You looked at your bracelet when Chrollo held your wrist in the air for Feitan to see.

‘T-that’s because-‘, ‘Shut it’.

You could hear Feitan’s nails digging into the fabric of his pants. He couldn’t stand it when Chrollo treated you like this..

‘Don’t you dare give me that crap about me kidnapping you because he tortured you. He gave you those scars, those burn marks and for some reason, you love him and not me. What have I ever done to you? When you came crying to me about how you felt sick for caring about us, when you cried because Feitan ignored you… I comforted you, didn’t I? Has Feitan ever comforted you as I did? Without fucking you after?’.

You quickly darted your eyes toward the ground. It’s not like he was wrong, but you couldn’t help the way you felt. It’s not like you didn’t care about Chrollo, you cared a lot, but he wasn’t what Feitan was to you.

‘Tsk’, he narrowed his eyes before grabbing your hair, ‘I’m done playing the nice guy when all I get in return is a brat who forgets her place’.

Tears, again. You tried to ignore the lump in your throat as he once again guided your head to the pace he preferred.

‘Tears?’, Chrollo chuckled, ‘Always doing anything to please Fei’.

Feitan widened his eyes at the remark, now eager to see your face.

You could feel Chrollo pulling at your hair, turning your head so Feitan could see your face.

‘Tsk’, Feitan clicked his tongue in response.

He hated this, he truly did, but you knew he couldn’t resist it when you were crying…

‘Up’, his cold voice teared through the lewd noises.

‘What’s this, Fei? Changed your mind?’, Chrollo’s eyes followed his every movement.

He didn’t answer. He knew he was giving Chrollo exactly what he wanted, but once he saw the dark circles under your eyes from your mascara, he lost all inhibitions.

‘On the table’.

A whimper escaped once you felt his cold hands on your waist, easily lifting you off the floor onto the table.

‘Shit’, you hissed as you felt the cold glass of the table against your back.

‘Wrong place, Feitan’, Chrollo smirked, ‘I want to fuck her this time. You had her yesterday’.

‘H-hey can I have a say in this?’, you pressed your hands against Chrollo’s shirt, but Feitan quickly grabbed your jaw in response. ‘I’ve seen how wet you were, so stop pretending you don’t want this’.

He was right. You wanted this, more than anything. So, you did what you knew would drive him crazy.

‘D-don’t want this, Fei, please’, you whimpered, a tear still rolling down your cheek.

‘Hm’, a devilish grin on his face, ‘So pretty when you beg me to stop’. He leaned over, a soft kiss on your cheek before he forcefully guided your head to his member.

‘F-fuck’, you closed your eyes as you pushed yourself away from Feitan when Chrollo’s tip met your entrance. ‘What’s wrong, darling? Keep going, or I won’t give you what you want’.

Your eyes glided to Feitan. His hand was still holding your jaw, waiting for you to start again.

‘H-hmpf’, you arched your back as Chrollo thrust into you.

Disappointment washed over Chrollo as you still didn’t look at him, or was it jealousy? He certainly couldn’t be jealous of Feitan, right?

‘So pretty’, Feitan stroked over your cheek as you desperately gasped for air, your mind flooded with pleasure. ‘You haven’t come yet’, Feitan smirked while watching Chrollo kiss your ankle, ‘You aren’t fucking her right. I would’ve had her shaking 3 times by now’.

‘That’s because you care about her pleasure, I don’t’.

A small moan escaped. You couldn’t help but like the way he was using you for his own needs.

‘Unbelievable’, Chrollo chuckled, ‘See Fei? She likes being fucked like a little slut’. ‘Do you?’, Feitan narrowed his eyes, his grip around your jaw tightened, ‘Is that how you want to be treated?’.

‘N-no’, you quickly shook your head, ‘I’m not-‘. ‘So fucking tired of this’, Chrollo suddenly pulled you closer to him, fucking you even harder, ‘It’s always Feitan. Always looking at him, always talking to him. You’re mine. Why can’t you understand that?’.

‘S-slow down, please’, your hands desperately holding onto the edge of the table. ‘Answer me. Why? Why’s it always Feitan?’, Chrollo raised his voice, not thinking about slowing down. He knew he must sound angry, but he wasn’t. He was hurt.

‘You’re hurting her-‘, Feitan tried to intervene but Chrollo couldn’t care less if you were hurting just a little. You deserved this. ‘If you don’t sit down on that chair and watch how I ruin her, I’ll let Hisoka have his way with her’.

Never. There could never be a time when the two of them wouldn’t argue over you.

Feitan obeyed. He knew Chrollo would probably never allow Hisoka to touch you, but if there was even a slight chance that he was being serious… ‘See? I’m the one who’s in charge, the one who made all of this possible. This mansion, your expensive jewelry, clothes… So why did you fall for him?’.

‘Not now, not now, not now’, you closed your eyes, unable to respond.

‘I want to be the one to take you lovingly, to kiss you, to hold you at night… But when do I get the chance to hug you at night? To kiss you goodnight? You’re always asking for Feitan to hold you, for him to-‘.

Shaking? You were shaking?

‘She’s going to come’, Feitan coldly replied when he noticed that Chrollo’s eyes went round.

‘You’re driving me crazy’, Chrollo placed a hand on your neck, his teeth sinking into the soft flesh of your shoulder, ‘Fei, get up’.

He reluctantly obeyed.

‘P-please’, you opened up your legs more, ‘C-can Fei touch me, please Chrollo’.

‘Only if he gets to stuff that bratty mouth of yours’. ‘Please Feitan, please’, you looked at him with innocent eyes.

Feitan could come just by looking at you right now. You were so eager for him to be in your mouth that you were almost crying.

‘Don’t let her come until we do’, Feitan looked at his boss, ‘You’re right boss, she isn’t very nice to you. It’s time we teach her how to be a good pet’.

‘N-no, c-can’t hold it anymore-‘, ‘You’re going to come when we do, won’t repeat myself’, Feitan pulled a little harder on your hair, ‘Now shut up and let us use you until we’re done’.

---

‘You’ve been so good’, Chrollo’s warm voice met your ear. ‘Hm, such a good girl’, Feitan gently kissed your foot that was hanging out of the tub. ‘C-can I ask something?’, you shyly let your head fall back onto Chrollo’s chest. ‘Anything’, Chrollo tightened his grip around your waist. ‘Anything’, Feitan softly added while getting up from the edge of the tub, his eyes searching for a bathrobe. ‘Can we sleep together tonight? The three of us?’.

A moment of silence filled the bathroom. Both men waiting for the other to respond.

‘If Feitan doesn’t mind-‘, ‘Don’t mind’, Feitan hastily replied. ‘A-and can we watch a movie together or something?’, you quietly asked.

‘A movie?’, Chrollo chuckled. ‘A-and snacks’, you smirked, ‘Snacks and lots of cuddles’.

Feitan normally never smiled, or not much at least, but your innocence had him smiling from ear to ear.

‘I’ll get us some snacks while Chrollo gets you in bed’. ‘Hm’, Chrollo hummed, ‘Good idea, Fei’.

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inamindfarfaraway · 1 year

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Monroe boys headcanons, with some canon facts to have all my thoughts about them in one place:

Trent: born in 2008; green-eyed and has Gerald’s curly hair; Linda’s least favourite; is learning her arrogance, intimidating charisma, boldness, ruthlessness, cynicism, ambition and desperate need for validation, which is exactly why she doesn’t like him, their relationship similar to her and Roman’s relationship when she was younger; easily bored; the worst-behaved at home; popular at school through fear and force of personality; resents all his brothers for having more of their mother’s favour than him, River most of all, whose ‘weakness’ he despises because it reminds him of the parts of himself he’s determined to extinguish; acts like an angel in front of and sucks up to adults besides his parents, partly out of pragmatism, partly out of hunger for approval that he refuses to seek from his ‘inferior’ fellow kids; skilled at tennis, badminton and archery: favourite colour is red

Seaton: born in 2009; not Gerald’s; brown-eyed; follows Trent’s lead and emulates him, having always been in his shadow; his submissiveness in that context belies a more patient, scheming, manipulative, vindictive cruel streak of his own that he saves for personal vendettas and small-scale harassment used as an outlet for his anger and dissatisfaction, happy to leave the bigger picture dominance to Trent and turn being underestimated in comparison into an advantage; the best at effective verbal abuse; prides himself on his social and strategic cleverness and envies Jordan’s academic and intellectual intelligence; secretly ashamed that he doesn’t do quite as well in his classes and feels the need to cheat to try to get perfect grades and make his parents proud; loves animals, especially horses, foxes and dogs, does horse riding and really wants a pet dog (Roman keeps trying to get him into pigs, to no avail); favourite colour is purple

Jordan: born in 2011; not Gerald’s; blue-eyed; the closest to Gerald, often found talking to him about plastic surgery; interested in science, mathematics, fashion and cosmetics; very intelligent and an excellent student, hence Linda’s second favourite; quiet, withdrawn and reflective, has learned to internalize his feelings to not inconvenience his parents and lose their love; the second most ambitious after Trent, but channels it into academic pursuits; joins his older brothers in bullying River only because they’ll turn on him otherwise for his sensitive and nerdy sides, and sometimes do anyway when River isn’t around; however, lacks internal malice (‘strength’ in his family) and is self-aware of this supposed deficit, so keeps himself useful to Trent and Seaton by giving them backup and ideas to be powerful and respected and torment people that he, at least independently, would never have the heart to act on; favourite colour is blue

River: born in 2014; brown-eyed; Linda’s favourite; kind and open thanks to his guileless innocence and being the happiest; the only one with genuine friends; though also spoiled and can be unthinkingly, accidentally insensitive to others’ feelings; creative and imaginative; loves cartoons, musicals and art, his drawings actually talented for his age and all over the Monroes’ fridge; favourite colour is green

In conclusion, they all need therapy and a healthy home environment. A theme with the older three, the eldest two most of all, is that they’ve been led to believe that love is fundamentally conditional. So River being showered in it when he ‘hasn’t done anything’ feels infuriatingly unjust and hypocritical of their parents. Somebody direct Duke Keane to the Monroes. Linda and Gerald may love each other, but they clearly aren’t good parents. I hope in one of the infinite timelines this family has a serious intervention and the boys get to grow up with good role models. They’re kids, guys, they deserve the chance to change.

And yes, Seaton is in Tim’s class (they hate each other).

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aureliadebae603 · 1 year

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This video I found in The New Zealand Herald features Georgina Beyers discussing her life story and what she has endured to become the woman she is today.

These are some quotes that I have pulled from the article which are relevant to significant events she has endured in her life.

"In my time, many of us ended up down in the street sex industry scene, on the fringes of society, utterly marginalised. I've been brutalised and exploited, I've been pack raped. I've had to endure that kind of thing and it either kills you or it doesn't. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger."

"It's less of a reflection on me but a wonderful reflection on them - rural conservative New Zealand. Who would have thought?"

"On the third reading of the Prostitution Reform Act, I got up and said: 'I will assume Mr Speaker that I am the only person in this chamber who has ever worked in the sex industry'. I paused and looked around to see whose hands were going to go flying up and of course there weren't any. In that moment, I guess they gave me tacit approval that I was the expert on this thing in this chamber," recalls Beyer.

This was another article I found that featured the passing of the prostitution bill, which Georgina participated in to influence the change of votes towards the bill after a condemning speech.

In 2003, after Labour politician Tim Barnett sponsored the Prostitution Reform Bill through Parliament, the final vote saw it narrowly pass into law, making New Zealand the first country in the world to decriminalise sex work. This legislation was unique in seeking to uphold the human and employment rights of sex workers, and included provisions designed to protect them from coercion and exploitation.

The Prostitution Reform Act was actively monitored during its first five years of operation by the Prostitution Law Review Committee, an eclectic group that included sex workers and was chaired by a retired Assistant Police Commissioner. The observations and consultations of this committee were important, given the extreme fears voiced by those opposed to the law change that it would result in massive increases in the number of sex workers and cause widespread corruption and immorality. The PLRC’s final 2008 report was reassuring in confirming no such eventualities, instead outlining some of the benefits associated with the Act’s impact in reducing the stigma and vulnerability of those involved in the sex industry:

The Committee concludes that the PRA has had a marked effect in safeguarding the right of sex workers to refuse particular clients and practices, chiefly by empowering sex workers by removing the illegality of their work.

In a short documentary that I found about Rainbow Voices and the reopening of the rainbow room in the parliament (possibly an extension/additional video of the speech I was assigned), It featured Georgina Beyers who discussed a hard moment for her being in Parliament and how her dedication to the LGBTQ+ community has helped to support thousands of people across New Zealand.

GEORGINA BEYER, member of Parliament 1999-2007:

I have often been credited with having been a trailblazer, and I will accept that as being true, because as the first out transsexual to serve in a parliament, I had no mentors. I had to navigate my way myself through the mire of political life, I guess. Yes, I had the support of colleagues and the support of caucus, and that we were serving in Government was a huge advantage. I guess I acquitted myself very well when we had what has now come to be known as the 'Enough is Enough' March, led by the Destiny Church. When the 8,000 arrived at Parliament to protest against civil unions, it was a dark day, I feel.

[ANGRY CROWD SHOUTING AND CHANTING]

I stood on those steps for the two or three hours that they held their rally in front of Parliament, holding the rainbow flag, joined by other members of Parliament: Sue Bradford, Sue Kedgley, Tim Barnett, Chris Carter, various others came out to support me as I stared them down from the steps of Parliament. At one point I just lost it. We had 150 approximately of our supporters who were pro the Civil Union Bill, and they had been surrounded by the 8,000 Destiny Church people. And they were abused, they were jostled, they were shoved, and I could see all of this happening from the steps. At that point, I was so... angry, I suppose. I marched across the forecourt of Parliament yelling out loudly, 'Why do you hate us so much? What is this? What is this that you're teaching your children, this hatred towards us? It's not right!' And words to that effect. I was yelling, which I seemed like a screaming banshee, because they had a sound system the Rolling Stones would have been proud of, so I was trying to shout over that so that they might hear me. That ended up on the news that night, and many of our Rainbow people – around the country – went, 'Hallelujah, our voice is there, to stare down this great adversity we were facing from these people.' One of my proudest moments of my parliamentary life, I have to say. Sorry for getting a bit emotional about it, but it was significant. And of course, civil unions came to pass and then was followed, what, less than ten years later by Louisa Wall's presentation of marriage equality to the country. And considering the venal debate that happened over civil unions throughout the country, marriage equality managed to slip through pretty well-supported from within the parliament – and more importantly, from a majority of New Zealanders. You see, with patience and perseverance, the country by and large will come on board because they can see all we want is equality. We are of no harm to anyone else. We just want to enrich our own lives with equality. And it has been for the better of New Zealand that we have been able to make positive contributions to our country, and to live lives that are far more liberated than when I was young. Well done, New Zealand.

It seemed quite appropriate, given the proud history we have in this country over Rainbow issues, that we should have a Rainbow Room – representation for our community in a solid bricks-and-mortar sense here at Parliament. And here it is!

#graphic design #grad603 #kinetic type #typography

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wordsdarkerthantheirwiings · 2 years

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And here is the second thing that really struck me:

[21/01/20] I still find it difficult and at times frightening to establish boundaries and say no. At work, in my relationships and with, well - everything really. My psychologist pointed out after much discussion of personal circumstances and the past that I have an innate need to be helpful and/or providing something to feel worthy of love.

That was difficult to hear and absorb, but she’s absolutely right. It’s why I constantly put myself forward without being asked, always go out of my way for friends, feel that I need to buy people things to let them know I love them with money I don’t even have. I want to feel helpful, need to feel generous - as if both of those things are checkmarks needed for approval. It is so hard for me to unlearn and stop doing this. I feel guilty for not doing these things, or for standing up for myself and taking time for myself. For putting myself first. It is a hard nut to crack.

Has this improved? Yes, though in one area I’m still holding back.

Though it was so, so difficult to hear this at first, the truth of it sunk in pretty quickly. I started to reflect a lot on those things in my past which made me this way and disconnect from them, one-by-one. Moving into a new company last year where I am, and know I am, well-liked, respected and wanted in different areas was the final stroke which broke this chain. It dawned on me, knowing people were keen on me for the role I’m in now plus two other areas, that I was all of those things despite my weight, appearance and background. And so I realised I’m worthy of love and respect and fixed a lot of my self-image and esteem issues all at once. For all these things, and for my workplace, I am extremely grateful.

And yet in spite of this, romantic relationships are still very frightening to me and I know I’m holding back. But it’s not all because of my own ideas about love and what I deserve. It’s because I still struggle with the idea of real love, that someone can really love me like that, and that a person I bring into my life to be intimately in my space - to be someone I can really open up to when I need it, someone I can trust like that - won’t hurt me the way others who I have supposed to have been able to rely on and trust have before.

It’s funny. I have so many deep, meaningful friendships in my life with people I have known a long time - people who I can meet with after years and yet feel like no time has passed at all. People I’m always connecting with. People who love me. People I can trust. People I know have my back. So it’s not like I know these things aren’t possible, nor that I feel (any longer) that I’m undeserving unless I provide some use. And yet there’s some barrier that is still keeping me away from seeking something that, honestly? I would like to have.

I think, maybe, my resistance to it also comes from having unhealthy romantic examples in my childhood: parents whose fights have descended into things being thrown or broken, grandparents who (as much as I deeply love and miss them) fought all the time. People I had to mediate between, a role that should never be placed on a child. I think it comes from wondering if romantic love is really something that can be healthy and achievable - or rather a fear that I’ll never really find it and instead experience an unhealthy relationship like the ones before me, and therefore pushing the concept of romantic association way the hell away from me.

I keep hoping that I’ll destroy this concept, the way I destroyed the one about needing to be of use. But I think I need another person to talk me through it, which is why I’m going to seek a therapist in a few weeks time. I need someone to challenge me on it in the right way, to throw things back at me in a way that will make me think and therefore deconstruct. I really hope this is the time that I can break this particular chain and move forward because it is something I’d like in my life. I don’t need it, and I feel like that’s important. I’m not sad that I don’t have it. But I would like it; atleast to feel comfortable with the idea of it. I want to break free of what I realise is yet another issue that comes from my past.

#journal post #relationships #romantic relationships #love #self worth #healing #recovery #long post #again (oops)#not negative really - more reflective #i'm thinking out loud

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lem-cup-rev · 2 years

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2.6 | Light Spinner

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)

🌸🌸🌸🌸

Hell! Yes! Light Spinner! Absolute babe!!

Her voice… 💜

The flashback story and the current story were both really cool.

Her origin feels like this really eerie parable that leaves a lot to the imagination. I think it’s possible that a more moralizing, cliche story was meant - seeking power to fight villains makes you a villain! - but I like reading it as ambiguous.

Light Spinner is a really interesting person. She comes across as extremely sinister from the start, yet I find it very sincere that she wants to save the world from the Horde. Her relationship with Mica has an uncomfortable intimacy to it; it feels like they’re sharing secrets and trust that an adult and child shouldn’t share. I find myself envisioning her as an antisocial outcast whose interpersonal problems and bitterness feed back into each other, who figures out her own, often exploitative, ways to make meaningful relationships.

The freaky spell they created was insane. I had no idea this show would get that eldritch and scary. Her monstrous transformation was so exciting and hot.

I love Catra’s tragic story about her complicated feelings about Shadow Weaver and her fundamental desperation for her approval. I do think most of the moment-to-moment writing there didn’t feel that interesting, but toward the end there were some really strong moments. The way she touched her hair…

Hordak is also extremely hot in this. I always think his design is really strong, it feels very busy but very well defined in physical space, and I like that we’re starting to see more of his cyborg vulnerability.

I think it’s kind of goofy that they send people to Beast Island instead of executing them, even though these character are frequently trying to murder take out one another on the battlefield. But they sold the seriousness of it pretty well.

When we checked back in with the good guys at the end of the episode, I really reflected on how much less defined and interesting their relationships and conflicts are than the bad guys.

Now, Catra is going to take a small hit this episode for always tossing the prisoner’s food straight on the floor. I’m certain the cooks worked hard on that!

Catra’s Crimes: 24

Next time: Meet the parents!

#review #no spoilers #episode #4⭐️#she ra and the princesses of power #spop #she-ra and the princesses of power

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bluebxlle-writer · 3 years

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Writing female villains

masterlist. main navigation.

@bluebxlle_writer on Instagram

POV : you’re a female villain in fiction. You’re badass and can beat up a dozen men at once, but you have no other personality besides either being cold or always using your feminine charms to seduce men. You’re also fully devoted to the main male villain. I'm tired of seeing the lack of well-written female villains, so let’s change that, shall we? Here are some tips for writing a good and well-developed female villain!

1. Their personality

I always get excited whenever there's a badass female villain, but then, boom. They're simply two-dimensional women who has no other personality besides being hot, badass and beating up men. Yes, we all love a badass hot lady, but not when she's boring.

Give us someone with an interesting personality, a well-rounded backstory, complex morals, and literally anything else that you would give your male villains. Instead of simply either emotionless or overly cheerful, give us ambitious, creative, and resourceful female villains. Give us a witty woman who cracks jokes in the middle of battle. Give us normal women.

2. Motivations

I've noticed that most of the time, the motivation of female villains is either driven by love or their desire to seek approval from a more powerful man, while male villains have all types of motivations, like ruling the world, gaining immortality, or rebuilding civilization.

See the difference? Why not give your female villains a motivation centered around them, instead of another man? I'm not saying that romance is a bad motivation - but it's just a widely applied stereotype that would be nice to change for once.

3. Make them likable

I can make a list of male antagonists who people love, but would hate their female counterparts. It’s pretty annoying, so give your female villain likeable traits. If she’s ruthless, you can make her a good leader who cares about her people. If she’s cold, you can make her a determined person who’d stop at nothing to reach her goals. You don’t have to make her likable as a person - she’s a villain after all - but please try to make her likable as a villain.

4. Complex morality

Give your female villains a complex morality - terrible things that she doesn’t mind doing and some lines that she will never cross. Maybe she’s fine with killing others, but she would never let one of her people die. Maybe she’s doing evil things, but for a greater good. Or alternatively, you can even make her completely ruthless!

5. Purpose

Please, please give your female villain a purpose in the story besides just looking hot and badass. Think about what will happen to the storyline if she wasn't in it. If the plot will fall apart, then you're good to go. Also, another thing, don't kill her off so quickly if she's the only female villain in the story. It gives the impression that they're easier to defeat than male ones.

6. Examples

The ATLA/TLOK universe has the best female villains I've ever seen, periodt.

Take Azula, for example. Yes, she works for a bigger male villain, but she doesn't need him. In fact, she accomplished everything without the help of that useless excuse of a Fire Lord. She could literally get rid of him and take the throne for herself if she wanted to. She also has a complex backstory which makes people understand her, a rich personality, and is completely ruthless. True, she's a horrible person, but I love her as a villain.

Then, there's Kuvira from TLOK. Unlike Azula, she's doing evil things for a cause that she believes is good. Eventually, she realizes that her actions are wrong, and turns herself in, which was the beginning of her redemption arc. She has a good backstory, complicated morality, and she doesn't answer to any man. She even has a love interest who has nothing to do with her villain arc, which I love.

Writers, give us more female villains whose arc doesn't revolve around men.

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writingpracticetime · 3 years

Text

Interactions with other villains

From the notes of Mitchell Newman:

Let me set the scene.

First, the Discreet Entrepreneur’s Network, or the DEN as it is appropriately titled, is a loosely organized guild of sorts for villains to meet and exchange illegal goods and services. It’s members are vicious, super-powered criminals of all stripes--master thieves, serial killers, unethical scientists, the whole spectrum. They’re dangerous, violent, and not at all kind to non-members, or even new members.

Second, we have Constructor. A famous hero and goody two shoes who only ended up in prison for protesting a mass eviction. More to the point, an (admittedly, not self described) pacifist who at the time was famously bad at combat.

The DEN should have torn Constructor to pieces, and this whole problem should have ended there. Instead our goody two shoes swipes dozens of members and eventually breaks the whole network into pieces.

How?

---

You have always been bad at public speaking.

You don’t stammer. But seeing lots of eyes on you makes you freeze and all of the words you planned slip away. It doesn’t help that at least half of the people in this room are murderers, but they would have the same effect if they were third graders.

You wish Sandy was here again. She was always good at coaching you through these things. The only reason you ever made it through interviews or press talks was because of her prep work.

"The pipeline," you try again.

The Organizer quirks an eyebrow at you. For a second he looks to his assistant, a pale woman whose eyes are fixed on, and then he motions at you. "Go on."

"the pipeline they're building," you try again. "Its damaging to the environment. The people don’t want it there. And it’s. Illegal."

The crowd actually bursts into laughter. You’re too used to talking to politicians.

---

Afterwards, Bonfire nods sympathetically at your grimace on your way out.

“There’s a reason I’m not a member,” she tells you.

“Did you hear? Did I…?”

Did I do good? It’s the sort of approval you used to seek from Sandy. You stop yourself, because you already know the answer regardless. Not a single person in that room approached you to join your next operation.

“There’s still the two of us,” Bonfire shrugs. “Best not to work with too many, anyway. That’s how snitches worm their way in.”

“Yes but…”

“Wait!”

A reedy voice calls after you. You don’t recognize the stick figure man who darts after you, eyes darting.

“Wait, okay okay okay okay,” he says, quickly. “Constructor. I’m--Cyberscout. I, your pitch, I mean--”

You wait. You hear a flare of irritation at your shoulder.

“Okay, your pitch sucked,” Cyberscout says. “Didn’t you used to go on TV? Man. N-not to down you or anything, what I mean to say is, just… I can help you with that. Not with your speaking skills, but getting the word out other ways, and doing some information gathering for you. So I’ll sign on. Pay back the favor.”

“Favor?”

“Yeah, uh. You jailbroke me,” he says. “I don’t work for nothing, normally I’d ask for a favor or cash but… since you already did me a solid… just this once.”

You hold out your hand, and like that you make your second ally.

---

Your second venture into the DEN goes better. You practice with Bonfire and Cyber ahead of time, so your voice is stronger. When you enter the latest venue, you nod at the Organizer and the silent pale woman next to him, taking a deep breath and refusing to feel intimidated.

Again, you describe what you’re opposing as wrong. Again, you talk about the people’s wishes. Again, you call it illegal, and again there is snickering, but instead of falling silent your voice booms.

“Are you going to pretend you all don’t care?” you ask, and you hear yourself echo from the back of the hall. “How many of you have been thrown into solitary Akonite cells for store robbery, for having? How many of you got beaten by guards? Now CEOs are lining their pockets with medications they got from experimenting on prisoners just like you have been, and they go completely free. This is illegal, against the public good, all of the things they say about your own actions--and yet the men doing this go free.”

Dead silence.

“If the hypocrisy doesn’t make you furious,” you say. “That’s because you have no fight left in you.”

---

When you leave the conference, you know Bonfire heard because she’s smirking.

“Better?”

“Better,” she agrees. “Still no takers?”

“They’re probably worried about losing face,” Cyberscout says. “I mean, I was. But after a talk like that, just wait. They’ll trickle in.”

And they do. Days after, a greying old woman approaches you. She seems hesitant to meet your eyes or speak at first but when she does his tone is cold, brusque, and to the point.

“You may have heard of me, you may not have,” she says. “But to the point, I know a few things about unethical experiments, how they are run...and how to help the subj--victims. If you are willing to look past my past indiscretions, I can be an asset.”

“I care more about what you’re willing to do now than anything you’ve done in the past,” you tell her.

She holds out her hand stiffly.

“Call me Asag,” she says. “Dr. Asag.”

---

At your third DEN meeting, the Organizer’s lips thin as he sees you. He once again exchanges whispers with his assistant before glowering at you. You brush him off, and stand to explain your next venture.

“One more thing,” you say. “Before anyone here thinks of joining, this is going to be a no-kill operation.”

“What?” booms a hulking figure in the back. “Are you fucking serious?”

“No interrupting,” the Organizer drones, but you speak up.

“Wait,” you say. “Let him talk.”

The man steps forward, and you have an instant flash of recognition. It would be impossible not to recognize him, actually. You don’t think you've met anyone else that big.

“You don’t know shit about what it’s really like out there!” the giant says. “You really expect anyone to go out and not defend themselves?”

“I didn’t say you can’t defend yourselves,” you explain. “I said you can’t kill anyone.”

“You can’t get shit done if you’re not willing to kill,” the man says, darkly.

“Really. And how has that worked for you? Wait--” you make a show of trying to remember him. “Oh wait, I know. It got you in prison. Where I broke you out, without killing anyone.”

There is actually some laughter. In your favor this time. It makes you grin.

“Hobbes, right?” you ask. “It’s possible to fight and neutralize someone without killing them, and it’s usually better that way because then the feds can’t justify using as much force against you.”

“Then I’d like to see you try to neutralize a real super,” Hobbes spits.

“Alright,” you say. “Come at me then, and I’ll show you.”

“Absolutely not!” the Organizer shouts. “There will be no fights during conventions!”’

You don’t even spare him a glance. “Outside, then”

The Organizer hisses at the entire crowd follows you both, eager to see blood. “This isn’t--the rules--”

After a fight that admittedly takes a lot more out of you than your previous efforts neutralizing low ranking heroes, Hobbes grumpily becomes your next ally.

---

More and more come to you. Some asking for monetary compensation, some asking for prison breaks in the future, and some who seem to be as drawn to your ideals as you are, deep down.

With each venture, the Organizer seems less and less happy to have you appear, until one day when you are about to come to another gathering you find yourself barred.

“You’ve broken enough rules,” the Organizer says, darkly. “You aren’t welcome in the DEN anymore.”

“What rules?” you ask.

There are a few, of course. Some minor things here and there, but nothing that got anyone else banned. He tells you, and you are about to object but someone else cuts in first.

“You’ve been cutting into his profits.”

It’s the pale assistant. Her voice is weak and thready, like she can barely speak up.

“What are you talking about?” the Organizer sneers. “I never--”

“He’s been working with some of those corporations you’ve been undercutting with your, um, stuff,” she says, her voice getting higher. “B-both sides. Always got to work both sides, he thinks. Get some villains to help, sell out the others.”

Other people inside are listening, murmuring. The gathering of villains are getting agitated--clearly, this is news to all of them, as well.

“Please,” the assistant says. “I have proof. I’m a--I read minds. I can tell you everything, just get me away safely and I’ll--”

He turns on her and attacks, hands around her throat. You don’t even have to think about it. You slam concrete into the Organizer’s face, and all hell breaks loose. Someone grapples you--and then Hobbes wrings them off you. Bonfire, always drifting at the edge of the event, darts in and jerks the coughing assistant out of the fray. And with that, your last venture at the DEN becomes an all out brawl.

You decide it’s still better than public speaking.

---

MN: So, real talk for a moment. How did you do it? Money? Threats? Brainwashing? I know there were a few mind control types in your group.

#4598: Hm?

MN: How does a hero go to a bunch of violent crooks and end up leading them?

#4598: The only way you can. With their consent.

#my writing #original writing #oops posted on the wrong blog #fixing that reeally quick #constructor

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hamliet · 3 years

Text

What Does It Mean to Save?

I keep seeing it said that Deku, Ochaco, and Shouto will “save” Shigaraki, Himiko, and Dabi, but that there will be no redemption and/or no survival for them. I’m truly not trying to vague these posts and everyone is entitled to their opinion, but literary criticism is fundamentally responsive so I’m writing this anyways.

I personally think that’s not BNHA’s definition of saving nor of redemption. So here, have a deep dive into literary tropes related to redemption, genre, and character arcs as they pertain to BNHA and the question of: what does it mean to save Shigaraki, Touya, and Himiko?

Before we begin, let me say that while we might be personally uncomfortable with redemption (there’s a redemption arc in BNHA I am personally quite uncomfortable with), that doesn’t inherently mean the narrative won’t go there. The key principle I’m operating on here is BNHA’s message that heroes save people. It’s held up as the highest ideal.

So let’s talk redemption in BNHA-verse. With this guy, whose redemption arc I dislike in principle but accept as part of the story so don’t come for me stans and/or antis. I’m analyzing because it shows us what redemption means in BNHA-verse, whether or not that is satisfying to you personally as it fits/does not fit with your own morality/philosophy.

If Endeavor can be redeemed and live, and he’s Bakugou’s negative foil, I highly doubt Shigaraki and Deku as well as Touya and Shouto and Ochaco and Himiko will be any different. Why? Because Enji is an adult character. The others--well, Himiko’s age we don’t know, but we do know that Shigaraki and Dabi are technically adults. But does the story consider them adults?

(It doesn’t.)

Child-coded characters are generally more likely to survive a redemption, which I’ll explain more later. First I have to define what I mean by child-coding, because I DO NOT mean this in the way it’s often (mis)used in fandom wank. Child-coding is a real thing, but it is not done to infantilize and it has nothing to do with shipping.

Child coding frames the character as a child for a few narrative purposes to convey a story’s theme or purpose. For example, if it’s a coming of age story coding a character as a child even if they legally are not emphasizes their journey to an understanding of self-actualization, or a true understanding of self with self-awareness and an understanding of self-value. An example of an adult coded as a child is The Kite Runner, wherein Amir is a legal adult for half the story, even married for fifteen years so we’re talking 30s-40s, but he does not truly become an adult until he returns to his homeland and takes responsibility for a childhood sin. In Attack on Titan, the main characters are now nineteen, but are still struggling to take responsibility as adults and have only started doing so now that their mentors/parental figures have started dying.

Along those lines, in any kind of story, you can code a character as a child of someone, regardless of biological relationship, to convey the type of relationship they have (usually a mentor one). For an example of this, see Bungo Stray Dogs’ Dazai and Akutagawa. Despite their two year age difference, Dazai recruited him to the mafia, abandoned him, and Akutagawa desperately seeks his approval. Usually in these stories a character will “overcome” their parental figure. This can be done through overcoming their need for the parental figure’s approval in stories where the parental figure is kindly (such as in Harry Potter, when in the final book Harry, Ron, and Hermione leave the Weasleys to find the Horcruxes despite Mrs. Weasley’s please) or through like, killing/stopping/leaving the parental figure when they are abusive (see fairy tales like Rapunzel and Cinderella). The parental link to self-actualization is because it is childlike (and a part of actual psychology that is reflected in literature) to see yourself as a part of your parent; self-actualized person would see yourself as a distinct person from your parent, but also acknowledge the ways in which they’ve shaped you.

So, how do you code a character as a child? BNHA isn’t subtle about it, because Horikoshi seldom is subtle about anything. The villain trio are all coded as children.

Shigaraki Tomura:

Who cannot achieve self-actualization so long as AFO has access to his body, as he’s literally trying to possess him. He’s trying, but it’s not gonna work because Shigaraki can’t keep AFO and become an adult at the same time. It’s a choice the narrative is setting up: your dream of destroying, or your freedom? (To get the latter, he’ll probably have to destroy AFO).

Todoroki Touya, who is repeatedly emphasized as a small child when compared to his siblings, and yes, I know he’s now tall. Specifically he’s spotlighted as the child of Endeavor:

And he’s the least self-actualized one in a lot of ways, contradicting himself constantly. I’m not Endeavor, DUH! But these are Endeavor’s flames! He’s gonna have to choose one or the other, because the tragic irony is that the more he takes out his rage on those around him, the more like Endeavor he becomes.

And Toga Himiko (who might well literally be a legal child), who is actually the most self-actualized one thus far, because she rejects Curious’s child insistence (Curious holds her in a Pieta pose, based on Michelangelo’s statue wherein Mary holds a deceased Christ):

She’s still got, like, a way to go though:

Because Himiko also wants to be like the people she loves to the point where she loses her own identity in them, which is er, not self-actualization. So she’ll have to choose whether or not she really wants to be like the people she loves or whether she wants to live her own way, which she herself tells us how that would end (death):

Deku said it himself: it’s good to focus on what someone is doing now. And look, I have issues with this statement and how it’s framed. I’ve talked about it at length and it was doomed to fail because Shouto himself told us long ago that it was annoying to hear a righteous speech by a stranger when you hadn’t gone through the same, plus Endeavor kinda failed by choosing being a hero over a dad here. But, the principle is that if the past doesn’t preclude Endeavor from seeking a better self, why would it preclude three characters coded as children, one of whom is literally somewhat the product of Endeavor’s sins? BNHA doesn’t think the past keeps someone from a better future.

So what about Dabi’s counterpoint, which is indeed valid? Well, redemption doesn’t mean the past forgets, either. It’s complicated and nuanced, and we can debate how well Horikoshi strikes this nuance (it’s got its flaws), and admittedly I don’t know how this will go down in the future. But it is asking Endeavor: how do you redeem yourself to the people you’ve hurt? And we have Endeavor asking this question to Touya’s shrine. I mean, the foreshadowing is obvious. Endeavor has to redeem himself by trying to save Touya. However, it will still probably come down to Shouto to save Touya.

For our three villains, it’s a little harder to predict... well, sort of. For Shigaraki it’s extremely obvious: he has to help take down AFO. Dabi probably has to do something to help his family (siblings probably), but it’s vague. Toga needs help and not condemnation, but presumably she’ll help Ochaco with something.

So, is this redemption? I’d define it as redemption in the eyes of the narrative. To address what makes a redemption is another essay unto itself, but if we bring in the oft-compared Star Wars example: did Darth Vader get a redemption? Did Ben Solo? Everyone says yes to both. However, only Luke witnesses Vader’s redemption, and only Rey Ben Solo’s. So the rest of the galaxy? Doesn’t think so. When I say they’ll be redeemed, I’m defining it as their role in the eyes of the narrative, not whether or not society will accept them or even whether their victims will forgive them (of note, in canonical novels, Leia never forgave Darth Vader despite learning he was her father and obviously knowing Luke’s account of his redemption was true).

So, redemption in a narrative doesn’t mean all of society has to forgive and accept them. Dabi has still like, murdered 30 people--many of whom were thugs, but he himself acknowledges they didn’t deserve to die. Additionally, he himself also acknowledges that the families left behind--their feelings matter:

But why does that mean they have to die? Why even does it mean they have to languish in prison forever? (If there’s even a safe prison at the end of BNHA which I kinda have doubts about.) Heroes have also killed: see Hawks as Exhibit A. In fact, some people want revenge on the heroes precisely because they arrested or killed their loved ones (jail isn’t held up as a rehabilitative place in BNHA’s world. In most countries it isn’t in real life, either, but again that’s for another essay). So why don’t the League’s feelings on Twice’s death matter just as much as the feelings of unnamed and unseen (and thereby less important narratively) characters?

Additionally, regarding death... the villains routinely get called on their death wishes. Himiko’s determination to decide how/when she dies is called out because this is right before Twice overcomes his trauma to save her, and the next arc they appear in is when Twice dies trying to save her again. Dabi’s suicide wish keeps him from getting close to others, and it keeps getting thwarted. Shigaraki’s obsession with destruction and death is clearly not a good thing, and his rejection of his family’s desire for them to join him in death this past arc is growth.

In other words: what Dabi said and what Snatch said about families and how they feel matter for the villains too. The villains are their own weird found family (Dabi as the deadbeat prodigal brother of both his families). Their deaths--Magne’s and Twice’s thus far, and I’m not ruling out further deaths in the future--affect the others. People’s feelings on losing loved ones matter. The villains are people, as Himiko said herself this arc:

Their feelings about each other matter:

How would Touya dying affect the Todorokis? At least they saved him spiritually, I guess, but that’s absolutely lame narratively, and if you have Enji eventually do a sacrifice to save Dabi (pretty likely, even if I personally think Enji will survive said sacrifice) then what’s the point of Dabi dying? How would Himiko dying affect society? As a martyr like Curious wanted her to be, even a redeemed one? A tragic warning story? What even is the point of Ochaco saving her if that’s the case? If Shigaraki dies, well, who would mourn besides Deku? How would Shigaraki dying affect the surviving members of the league? He just couldn’t be saved physically?

It’s not impossible some of this happens, but it doesn’t seem like great writing, especially with panels like, oh, these that show us BNHA’s perspective on death:

Sacrificing something is a type of death that occurs in stories; this should happen in a redemption arc, which is why I’ve been saying Enji needs to sacrifice his hero reputation to help save Touya and even then it’ll still be Shouto imo who does the saving. But physical death?

If you want further analysis of the latter two panels and how they relate to the ending, see here.

We already have another villain who will definitely die redemptively (Kurogiri--an adult coded character--because he’s already, like, dead), and Spinner and Mr. Compress aren’t coded as kids so I hold them with anxiety towards the end. But again, this isn’t me being ageist or saying this is the way things ought to be in fiction or real life: it’s me looking at writing tropes and saying that child-coded characters tend to survive their redemptions. See: Zuko. Why? Because the death of children or child-coded characters is a tragedy. When a child-coded character dies redemptively it doesn’t feel like a happy ending and if framed as such, it’s often criticized for bad writing (see: Ben Solo). Curious even called this out in her fight with Himiko. I would hope Horikoshi doesn’t end the story being like yeah Curious was right that’s the best use of Himiko’s/Dabi’s/Shigaraki’s arcs:

Additionally, as for the believability of a character getting a new chance after so much destruction and murder... well, it’s kinda a thing in shonen and even in seinen? For better or for worse, it’s a thing. We have Vegeta in Dragon Ball Z and Kaneki Ken in Tokyo Ghoul (Kaneki, by the way, is absolutely an inspiration for Shigaraki). We can debate how well-written these redemptions are (I personally have been quite critical of Kaneki’s despite wanting it to happen narratively), but it can be done. BNHA’s Japan especially isn’t as harsh a world as Tokyo Ghoul’s Japan, so it would make even more sense for something like Kaneki’s ending.

The reality is that the cycle of revenge via hurting people and then leaving hurting families and loved ones has to stop somewhere. Someone has to be the bigger person and step up and be like “naw.” That’s heroic. That’s brave. That’s sacrificial itself. Justice itself doesn’t really exist in its purest form without mercy.

There’s another genre-reason I don’t see death or jail as likely (I could see, like, maybe a mental health ward like Rei’s? But it’s too soon to speculate).

If saving is considered a good thing for the story, if it’s truly the highest ideal, then saving someone should be rewarded by the narrative. The characters who save should have a positive result to show us this a good thing.

This is why it doesn’t work for the heroes’ end journey to be accepting that some people cannot be saved. The notion of just accepting that you cannot do something, you cannot save everyone, you cannot, cannot, cannot, is called out as a flaw of society. Determination, on the other hand, is rewarded.

We see it with Deku as well as with Mirio.

So, what if they save them and the redeemed characters then go on to sacrifice themselves in their redemption and die (come to the same end)? If saving changes absolutely nothing for the saved person, if it’s too late for the saved from themselves to change and/or do anything that matters besides die, then the narrative theme of saving as important is left unemphasized at best and undermined at worst. Simple intrinsic knowledge that the kids “did the right thing” doesn’t cut it for a story with so much focus on physical saving when the kids are already doing the right thing; moral struggles about whether to choose to be good aren’t really Deku, Ochaco, or Shouto’s arcs. It works for Aizawa’s arc with Kurogiri, but not for the kiddos. If BNHA was more of a philosophical/spiritual text, that would indeed make sense, but it is not. Genre-wise, BNHA is a fantastical superhero optimistic story, not a gritty real-world set drama.

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seyaryminamoto · 3 years

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Do you think canon Zuko has any understanding of the idea of duty? That he, especially given that he aspires to political power, should act like his status as Prince gives him certain responsibilities? That doing what's best for the for Fire Nation or the world might require him to do things which make him unhappy or uncomfortable or require him to make grave personal sacrifices? Does he even understand duty as a concept?

Oof. Complicated questions, thus, this sat in my inbox for a veeeery long time.

I honestly, seriously, genuinely... don't think Zuko truly understood, at any point in canon, what it really meant to be a leader. I know many of us (and I think you, too?) don't particularly like the comics, but in my opinion, The Promise did a surprisingly decent job at highlighting several problems left in the wake of the end of the war, and perhaps unintentionally, this is one of the problems: upon becoming Fire Lord, Zuko is remarkably erratic, unsure of his choices, even seeking advice from his FATHER, of all people, because he has no idea what he's doing.

In the most favorable possible view of Iroh, he taught Zuko to be a better person. I don't entirely adscribe to this belief, but fine, let's concede that he did, or else this answer would never end: not just because you're a good person, however, are you guaranteed to be a good leader. Zuko, as we both know, is far from the best person in the world, and he is prone to making impulsive, emotional mistakes that can cause harm and trouble, and typically, Zuko doesn't face the consequences of most his actions, or the narrative just pins the blame on someone else. When we see this sort of behavior in a real-life politician, the immediate reaction we would have is "this guy is awful at his job", and sadly, I find myself thinking that quite often when it comes to Zuko's canon tenure as Fire Lord.

So... what is Zuko's concept of duty? Going by his pursuit of Aang in the first two seasons, duty is a task given to him by someone whose approval he seeks (in this case, Ozai) and he must pull it off, no matter what, to gain said approval. By Book 3, this logic still applies fairly easily to how Zuko acts over Iroh: I've highlighted in the past that the main motivation for Zuko's redemption is Iroh, doing right by Iroh, making amends to Iroh, regretting how he treated Iroh. He points that out explicitly in Ember Island Players, he does it as well indirectly by bringing up Iroh first of all, when confronting Ozai: this is his main priority. Ergo... I'd honestly say it's safe to judge that this is what Zuko regards as duty, as what he has to do. Iroh wants him to be Fire Lord? That's exactly what he becomes. The difficulties and complications in this particular line of work are taken for granted, and so, we have an outcome that was remarkably well depicted in The Promise, despite that comic's many glaring flaws: Zuko gets swept back and forth, twisted left and right by all the pressures and responsibilities, because he has no idea what he's doing as Fire Lord, and no idea/experience in how to be a real leader.

As far as I can tell, the core of the matter is that nobody really seems to have taken Zuko all that seriously as future Fire Lord. Ozai, evidently, wasn't training Zuko to be his personal heir. Ozai himself is a questionable source of information regarding learning what it means to be Fire Lord, considering he, as well, wasn't raised to take that role, just as he didn't raise Zuko for it. Yet Iroh didn't exactly teach Zuko how to lead anyone either, as far as I can tell: his lessons were meant to be of a more personal nature, and even then, Zuko had lots of trouble accepting most of them. Iroh's firebending lessons to Zuko were typically stunted in the basics because he was hot-headed and rash about getting to the intense and interesting stuff...

So: neither Ozai nor Iroh gave Zuko actual responsibilities. Ozai gave him a punishment Zuko was trying to endure however possible, a punishment he wanted to prove himself unworthy of by finding the Avatar and "regaining his honor". Then, Iroh punished Zuko as well by giving him the cold shoulder in Book 3, then he escaped and Zuko did everything he did, after betraying Ozai, to prove himself worthy of Iroh's kindness once again. It's not actual duty, the way it is in Azula's case: no doubt, Azula wants Ozai's approval too, but she has the madman's trust when it comes to finding her brother and uncle, to taking down the Avatar, and to conquering Ba Sing Se, as far as anyone can tell. I do doubt Ozai gave her all these missions at once, but he gave her the resources through which she pulled off ALL of them: she had the firebending procession, she had a ship, she had a train-tank, she had mounts... Zuko had a rundown ship that looked like a 1:10 scale version of every other ship in the harbor back in the very third episode: he was being punished. In contrast, Azula is entrusted with a mission, with LEADERSHIP, while Zuko has no visible, tangible, objective experience with the latter (consider how Azula steals the Dai Li's loyalty from under Long Feng: when did we see Zuko pulling off something like this? Even with Jet, Zuko was more of an associate to the Freedom Fighters, and Jet was still the leader).

I've always thought Zuko wasn't prepared to be Fire Lord, and the main reasons are the ones you indirectly point out through this ask: Zuko doesn't seem to treat the throne as a responsibility, but as his right. I won't get tired of pointing out that this was NOT Zuko's birthright, he was NOT born thinking he'd be Fire Lord: he was born to the second branch in the Fire Nation family. We literally SEE the day in which Lu Ten's death is revealed to him. According to somewhat official sources? He's ELEVEN in Zuko Alone's flashbacks. I, personally, think he looks a little younger than that, but I think that's the official wikia age, no idea where they got that info but that's what it says. Meaning...

Zuko, objectively, only had been crown prince for FIVE YEARS.

Zuko was NOT raised, not by his mother, not by his father, with the belief that the throne would one day be his (Ursa is gone before Ozai is crowned and Ozai clearly wanted Azula for the job rather than Zuko).

And yet, when you backtrack to the show? It seriously looks like that was the case. He clings to the throne in Books 1 and 2 as though he had no other purpose in life, as though this was everything that was promised to him (in contrast, Azula only ever indicates wanting the throne in Sozin's Comet: Part One). Even when he's an outlaw, discarded and cast out, he STILL talks about the throne, as though most his identity were built upon the notion that he must become Fire Lord: why? How come? Within five years, he's crafted his entire existence around being the heir to the throne? That's... a bit weird.

And a bit wishful, too. Which is why I commend that the comics show him struggling as Fire Lord, if anything they should've had him struggling MORE than that, because Zuko is simply NOT prepared for these responsibilities. He never gave any indication, any sign, of seeing it as such. He sees it as his right, his birthRIGHT. Why? Why more people don't ponder how utterly strange this behavior is, beats me. But it really does bother me that Zuko built his entire existence around being Fire Lord in a very similar way to how Korra built her own about being the Avatar. I have very little praise to give LOK in general, but the premise of Korra learning she was a person, a human, and not just the Avatar felt like the perfect parallel to Aang's story, where he was very much anchored in his humility and belief that he was just "one kid", and his rejection of his duties as the Avatar was meant to change gradually as he learned to accept himself as he was. Korra, however, never fully hit the mark with this subject, in my personal opinion... much as Zuko doesn't hit the mark either, since the show's only direct attempt to "deconstrue" Zuko's clinging to the throne happens in one dialogue, and his attachment to the idea is built up again, right afterwards:

Zuko: And then ... then you would come and take your rightful place on the throne? Iroh: No. Someone new must take the throne. An idealist with a pure heart and unquestionable honor. It has to be you, Prince Zuko. Zuko: Unquestionable honor? But I've made so many mistakes. Iroh: Yes, you have. You've struggled; you've suffered, but you have always followed your own path. You restored your own honor, and only you can restore the honor of the Fire Nation. Zuko: I'll try, Uncle.

And there we have it. The only point in the show (that I can remember) where Zuko seemed to not feel worthy of the throne and questioned he should be the one sitting on it (RIGHTFULLY!), buuuuuuuut he goes right back to wanting it, right afterwards, based on how this single exchange was enough for him to be 100% determined to take down his sister, merely a few lines later.

As for his willingness to make personal sacrifices... some might say he was outright willing to die for Katara in the finale -- though I'll point out he was trying to redirect the lightning anyway, didn't do it as well as he should have, but he wasn't exactly, consciously, trying to DIE for her... --, some might say that he left Mai behind in the FIre Nation, and that as well was a sacrifice... but was it? We don't see him missing her, or suffering about her fate, at any point in time after SHE sacrifices herself for him in the Boiling Rock (my biggest gripe over this particular canon couple is this, tbh). I feel like the show generally presents Zuko's situation as somewhat... self-sacrificial? Especially in Books 1 and 2, and yet that's really not the case: it isn't Zuko himself who makes the choice of traveling to find Aang, it's a punishment inflicted upon him.

This particular view upon his circumstances makes it so Zuko is never responsible for... well, any of his choices? It's always someone else's fault, therefore, whatever he suffers through, there's always someone he can (and usually does) resent for it. Therefore... I can't genuinely think of anything Zuko sacrificed in order to come as far as he did. He was forced to let go of things by his father, typically, by Zhao as well, maybe, but even then, it's not like we saw that he has a super healthy and happy relationship with, I don't know, Earth Kingdom people (his only meaningful positive EK bond was with Jin, which went nowhere and goes forgotten after a single mini episode)? The Palace staff? The commoners of the Fire Nation (they just treat him like a hero and he seems awkward and distant about it anyway, like he can really just do without their worship)? He doesn't have other friends beyond Azula's own friends... thus, he doesn't sacrifice anything that really matters. And in a sense, some people might say he doesn't have to sacrifice anything at all: he already went through so much strife and struggle that why would he need to sacrifice anything else? But the thing is... you DO have to learn to make such sacrifices if you're going to be a good king.

So often, people who devote themselves to their jobs have to consciously neglect their families, to name one thing: Zuko neglects Mai and she explodes at him for it in The Promise, then he just tries to get her back at all costs in Smoke & Shadow, with no thoughts given to the fact that maybe he isn't ready to juggle both a relationship and the throne, that maybe Mai could be happier with someone other than him, someone who can give her the attention and relationship she's looking for... THOSE are the sacrifices I'd be referring to, personally, sacrifices where his happiness and peace of mind have to be set aside for the sake of something much more important than himself, and I expect that's the kind of sacrifices you're referring to, too. I seriously don't think he's ready to make them, and with the comics as reference, there's seriously no evidence to suggest he's prepared to accept these burdens that come with the heavy mantle of leadership and ruling. I've never seen any signs of him being ready for it, myself. Maybe I need to reexamine the show and see if maybe I'm missing something... but I don't really think I am.

The worst part, for me, is that Zuko isn't even doing the bulk of the things he's doing in pursuit of genuine happiness: he's doing it over a sense of destiny. He never stops to reason with that destiny, to wonder if maybe he doesn't need to be Fire Lord, if maybe he could have a life beyond that role. Book 2 veeeery briefly suggests he MIGHT be on his way to questioning that destiny, but as I've said before, I don't see the sense in Zuko's big change of heart after the Appa incident considering we don't really understand what he's learned, other than how to be the perfect nephew for Iroh, apparently. Zuko never really is happy, as he says in the show: his happiest moments are with Mai and they're only like a 25% of his relationship with her, everything else is a mess (and his relationship with her isn't exactly the core of his character, either). So, the way I see it... Zuko is even worse off than it looks at first glance. He's out to fulfill a destiny he has never stopped to reason with, a destiny he's 100% sure is his, despite he has only been on that path, objectively, for five years? Despite he wasn't raised all along under the belief that this was what he was supposed to be? If given a chance to be genuinely happy, what on earth would he even do? A lot of the growth I gave him in Gladiator was based on that particular question: is the throne really what Zuko needs to be happy? It doesn't look like it, even in canon. If it's not... then it's not happiness he seeks, it's some sort of sense of assurance that he's doing the right thing, according to the figure of authority he follows at a set point in time: by Book 3, said authority is Iroh, and Iroh wants him on the throne. His motivation, as far as I can see it, is as simple as that.

Long story short... I don't think Zuko really has a strong grasp on many concepts that he absolutely should have reasoned with and worked out in order to become Fire Lord. In a sense, he's way too young for the role he's given, for the heavy burdens he has to deal with, and I'll NEVER see the sense in not having Iroh taking the throne (beyond how "poetic" the creators and writers found it to crown Zuko to finish his story, of course), at least for a short time, before Zuko can be ready. This is exactly why I wrote things that way in my oneshot where Azula takes Zuko's role, more or less: Iroh serves as regent while Azula prepares for taking the full role of Fire Lord when she's ready. I love her, she's awesome, I absolutely adore her character... but I don't think an Azula who was sidelined and sent on a long voyage with her uncle for YEARS could possibly be ready for the responsibilities of being Fire Lord right away.

Meanwhile? Iroh was given leadership of military missions enough times that he became a general in the Fire Nation forces. By all evidence, he was Fire Lord Azulon's pampered and spoiled son, whom he DID prepare for the duties of a Fire Lord for as long as Iroh was born: Iroh literally had fifty-ish years of preparation, as far as I can tell? How is he NOT the better suited person to take the throne, if just temporarily, while his nephew learns what it really means to rule by watching him, or by maybe learning leadership by managing smaller duties first, a specific town or city, and then putting his knowledge to good use by becoming Fire Lord properly?

Eh... because it wouldn't be an epic enough finale for the show, I suppose. That's the only answer I can find for this particular question.

So... yeah. That got long :'D but in short... I don't think Zuko has a strong grasp on responsibility and duty, let alone on the burdens inherent to these concepts. Yet more reasons why his character's arc can't hit all the marks it should, imo, to make it as great as the whole fandom is already convinced it is.

#zuko-always-lies #more zuko meta #and it got long #:'D #if anyone needs a read more #let me know and I'll add it #but for now #it is what it is #you know it really is sad to write all this when I'm more or less making peace with Zuko via Gladiator #and actually making him reason with soooo much stuff #that he never really had to in the show #*siiiiigh*#he'll never be my fav #that much is obvious #but he could be MORE #and it's sad that he's not #very sad

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natrogersfics · 3 years

Text

Game Plan - Chapter 3: Leave (Before You Love Me)

Artwork by @faith2nyc Read on AO3

“Dude, don’t you do this for a living?”

The sound of Steve’s belly laugh reverberates through the room, prompting Natasha to look up from her phone to find him nearly doubled over on the floor as he sits huddled with a group of children around one of the numerous televisions.

“I do!” Steve says as he turns to Aiden, the eldest of the children they’ve met today at Stark Medical. “But probably not for much longer if you keep beating me like this!”

Aiden perks up, the boy’s face lighting up with pride at Steve’s comment, and the exchange she witnesses causes her to smile.

Not all athletes are great outside the confines of an arena. This is a fact that many people don’t realize, but one that she knows intimately. They can be arrogant, egotistical, self-absorbed – a lethal mix that can only beget trouble. Not that she could really blame them. When you have thousands of fans chanting your name on any given Sunday and an endless line of sponsors throwing more cash at you than you could ever hope to spend, it’s easy to forget that you aren’t actually the best thing to happen to the world since sliced bread.

Even so, inflated egos have never deterred her from pursuing this line of work. Yes, it’s a complete nuisance to deal with, but as any person working in Public Relations will tell you, that comes with the territory. In some way, the fact that her clients aren’t always the most stellar of human beings actually makes doing her job a lot easier. She didn’t have to waste time cracking open a beer with them to know that there aren’t layers to their personality to peel back. They are who they are, and all they want is for her to clean up the mess from whatever thing they said or did that’s currently proving to be an inconvenience.

This is a truth she’s held and accepted about every player whose file has come across her desk – until Steve Rogers, that is. Admittedly, when she had proposed this partnership to him, there was a part of her that believed that given enough time, she’d learn that he was just like every other person who’s come to her for help. That, what worries she had about their history would fade the second she learned who he was at his very core. But ten days and two hospital visits into this campaign, and it’s becoming increasingly evident that he might just be the outlier.

Today perfectly embodies why. They’ve been here for most of the day already, and in the first hour alone of walking through the children’s wing, she’d lost count of the number of casts and jerseys Steve has signed and the pictures he’s taken with patients and their families. Add to that the plethora of hospital administrators wanting to give their thanks and the many patients vying for his attention, Steve’s been pulled in a million different directions, and not once has she heard him complain.

The most astonishing part in all of this is that she knows he’s tired. Hell, she’s tired, and all she’s had to do for most of the day is usher him in the right direction. Nevertheless, his smile has not faltered. Not even when Jacob, a ten-year-old boy whose leg is in a cast, challenged him to a round of Madden on the PlayStation ten minutes before they were scheduled to leave. Steve just looked at her, his eyes seeking silent approval, before turning back to Jacob to give him a resounding yes.

That was two hours ago. Since then, one round has turned into another, which turned into three, until every other kid wanted to take their chance at defeating a real-life quarterback in a virtual stadium.

“You’re drooling.”

She looks to her side, rolling her eyes when she sees Wanda smirking at her. “Very funny.”

“Or at least you will be,” Wanda says, wiggling her brows. “Darcy wasn’t lying when she said he was disgustingly photogenic. And to top it all off, he’s a hit with the kids, too?” She sighs, holding out her camera. “I have to say, Nat, I don’t know whether or not to be impressed or disappointed that you aren’t climbing him like a tree right now.”

“Give me that,” she says, glaring as she takes the camera from Wanda, who snickers. She slides through the photos Wanda has taken throughout the day, her lips lifting in a smile when she comes across the one of Steve carrying Millie, a two-year-old girl whose hearing was recently restored. “These are awesome, Wanda,” she says. “When you can, can you send some over to Darcy-”

“To post for his Socials, I know,” Wanda finishes, pulling her phone out of her back pocket to show her. “Already ahead of you. Look” – she points towards the top edge of the screen – “#CapIsBack is trending at number three!”

Her smile widens as happiness surges through Wanda’s expression. Along with Darcy, the three of them had worked hard to come up with a catchy hashtag for Steve’s campaign. They’d cycled through countless iterations before Wanda had suggested that they pay homage to The Captain sobriquet Steve had earned early on in his playing days due to his excellent leadership on the field, and based on the online reactions to it, it’s evident that it was the right call.

“You’re my hero,” she says, giving Wanda’s shoulder a nudge with her own. “Seriously, you and Darcy are my dream team.”

“Yeah?” Wanda says, a mischievous smile pulling at her lips. “As in skillswise, on a scale of one to ten, you would say we’re… an eleven?”

“What’s an eleven?”

Her eyes widen when she hears Steve’s voice, but she quickly blinks her shock away as she turns on her heels to face him. “The number of minutes it took to get #CapIsBack trending,” she says. “Darcy posted some candids from this morning and the engagement numbers across all your Socials are moving upwards.”

Steve tilts his head to the side. “I’m assuming that’s a good thing?”

“Considering you only revived your profiles last week, it’s a very good thing,” she confirms.

“Not to mention your follower count is exploding exponentially!” Wanda adds, wincing at the volume with which she says the words before pointing a thumb over her shoulder. “I’m going to get more shots of the kids.”

She lifts a brow at Wanda, watching as her friend walks away before turning back to Steve, whose expression is still flummoxed from their exchange. “Follower counts are really important to brand executives,” she explains. “It gives them a gauge of how far your reach spans in certain markets. Nowadays, that metric could decide whether or not a company offers you a sponsorship.”

“Gotcha,” he says before shaking his head. “Sorry, I was never really one for this Social Media thing, so this is all brand new.” He sighs. “I guess I’m a little like a man out of time in that sense.”

“Well, that explains why those kids were schooling you at video games,” she deadpans, smirking when Steve narrows his eyes playfully at her. “In all seriousness though, don’t worry about all these platforms. That’s my job.” She shrugs. “But welcome to the new world, Steve Rogers.”

“Thanks,” he says, “and if I haven’t said it already, I’m so grateful to have you guiding me through all of this.”

She smiles, but before she can respond, a knock on the open door causes them both to turn to see a nurse standing at the doorway.

“Hi, I’m nurse Claire,” the tall woman in baby pink scrubs says before placing a hand on the shoulder of the little girl standing next to her. “This right here is Julia. She’s nine and today's a very special day for her.”

Steve smiles before bending down to get to eye-level with the girl. “And what special occasion are you celebrating today, Ms. Julia?”

“Doctor Palmer said my scans are clear,” Julia explains with a smile. “My Leukemia is gone!”

Her hand flies to her mouth as a gasp slips from her lips, and she moves to kneel next to Steve, who extends his fist out for Julia to bump hers against. “Oh, Julia, that’s wonderful news!” she says, smiling. “What would you like to do to celebrate?” She nods towards the television. “If you want, we could try to get you a turn on the PlayStation over there.”

Julia scrunches her nose. “I don’t really like video games.”

“That’s all right,” Steve says, gesturing towards the rest of the room. “I’m sure we could find something in here that you’d like to do instead.”

Julia grins at that, her big brown eyes scanning the room. “Did you do that yourself?”

She looks to where Julia is pointing before lifting the tail of her braid off her shoulder. “This?” she asks, smiling when Julia nods enthusiastically. “Why, yes, I did.”

“I’ve always wanted a fishtail braid,” Julia says, one hand reaching towards the top of her head. “But I lost my hair when I first started treatment. I have some now, but every time my dad tries to braid it, it turns out wonky.”

“I’m sure your dad tried his best,” she says, chuckling when Julia just lifts a shoulder in response. “Tell you what, why don’t we go to the couch over there and I’ll braid your hair?”

“Really?” Julia says, beaming when she nods before turning to Steve. “Will you help?”

Steve cringes, holding his hands out before him. “I’m afraid these are no good at braiding. But I’d be happy to help in some other way.”

“Hmm…” Julia says, her eyes squinting as she examines his hands. “Can you hold the hair ties?”

Steve laughs. “Like a pro.”

“And voila!” she says a while later, gesturing for Steve to hold up the hand mirror so Julia can inspect her handy work.

“What do you think?” Steve asks.

“I love it!” Julia says, all but squealing. “It’s exactly what I wanted!”

She smiles, sharing an amused look with Steve before turning back to the little girl. “Julia-”

“Thank you, Natasha,” Julia says before she can finish, turning to wrap her in a tight embrace.

“Oh,” she says in surprise before quickly giving Julia a light squeeze in return. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

“I’m going to show everyone!” Julia says, hopping off the couch and turning to face the two of them. “And you did really good being Natasha’s assistant, Steve.”

“Thanks, kiddo,” Steve says, chuckling as Julia walks away without so much as another glance back at them. “Guess I can add Professional Hair Tie and Mirror Holder to my resume now.”

She shakes her head, a smile playing on her lips as she rises from the couch to straighten the pillows she was leaning on. “The kids love you.”

“Me?” he asks. “You’re the one knocking the socks off of them. Not only are you a PR Wunderkind, but apparently, you’re also a Genius Hair Braider to boot.”

She snorts as she continues to fluff one of the pillows with her hands. “Hardly,” she says, “I just have a lot of practice with the latter since my little sister went through a phase of refusing to leave the house until her hair was in a braid crown.”

“I knew you were a big sister.”

Her eyes do not stray from the pillows as she continues to arrange them. “Oh?”

“Mhmm,” he says. “You hover.”

Her head snaps towards him. “I don’t hover.”

“Yes, you do,” he insists, laughing quietly when she crosses her arms over her chest. “Natasha, this is what? Our tenth day on the campaign? And every day, like clockwork, you make sure Darcy and Wanda take their break as soon as it’s noon.”

“That’s not hovering,” she argues. “That’s making sure my team is taken care of the way they deserve to be.”

“Exactly,” he says, “I never meant to imply that you hover in a bad way. Just, you know… in a way that’s obvious you’re used to looking out for other people.” He shrugs. “Something a big sister might do.”

For a moment, she just stands there, pressing her lips into a line as she contemplates his observation. It’s not as if this is the first time someone has ever assumed things about her, but it is rare that they turn out to be right. And though she’s not usually the type to share details about her personal life with someone she hardly knows, she surprises herself by plopping back down next to him. “Our mom worked long hours, so Yelena and I spent a lot of time together,” she says before shaking her head. “She’s a little daredevil, so I had to keep a close eye on her.”

Steve smiles, stretching his arm across the back of the couch as he shifts to face her. “I take it you two are close then?”

“Thick as thieves,” she says without an ounce of hesitation before arching a brow at him. “Why the sudden interest in my birth order, though?”

“Just curious,” he says with a shrug. “You already know everything about me, so I thought I’d learn a little about you.”

She scoffs, but even so, the corners of her lips quirk upwards. “Just to be clear, as your publicist, knowing everything I can about you is kind of my job.”

“Still doesn’t change the fact that we’re at a disparity here,” he says, holding a finger up. “For example, you probably already know that I’m an only child. Ergo, it was just me and my mom growing up.” He smiles. “Now that’s really two things about me, but now that I know that you have a sister, that narrows the gap between us a little bit.”

“A little bit?” she asks, smiling when he just waves her quip off. “Do I get to ask questions too?”

“You see, now that just tips the scales back in your favor,” he says, chuckling when she shoots him a withering look. “I’m kidding. But is there really a question you can ask me which answer you don’t already know?”

She hesitates for a brief moment, allowing her eyes to scan the room to see all the kids still huddled together. “The charity work you did in LA,” she begins, looking back at him. “Why didn’t you include that in your file?”

“Nothing goes over your head, huh?” he says, to which she just shrugs. He’s silent for a beat, his expression contemplative before he lets out a sigh. “I wasn’t doing it to land a contract.”

She parts her lips to respond, but the words do not come. And as she stares at him, his features dripping with nothing but utmost sincerity, it dawns on her then why, in spite of overseeing scores of campaigns and charity events in the past, this day has felt distinct from all the rest. It’s one thing to work with someone who physically might as well be considered the perfect specimen – that goes for nearly every athlete in the league anyway – and for the most part, their egos make it easy to see past their physical perfection. But to learn that underneath the peak human strength and physicality of that person is an equally big, if not bigger, heart? She’s worked long enough in this business to know that’s rare. A little smile creeps onto her lips, and with that, she gives him a nod.

He can’t breathe. Well, maybe he’s being a touch dramatic. It’s not as if the tightness he’s feeling in his chest right now is akin to having a three-hundred-plus-pound defensive end pinning him to the ground, though Steve’s certainly experienced that enough times to know it’s pretty damn close. But he is uncomfortable – irritated, even – and he chalks it up to the interviewer that’s been trying to cajole him into a cringeworthy sound bite for the last half hour.

The irony that he’s now sitting for an interview does not escape him. When the Avengers had first announced his signing, the reception was a mixed bag. There were some who cheered, delighting in the idea of him mounting a comeback and raving about what a coup the front office had pulled. Nevertheless, many were skeptical. Hardcore fanatics were, at best, lukewarm about the idea of a former NFC West quarterback jumping to the AFC East. Pundits on Sports Center dissected his ability to play pro ball again after a two-season hiatus. Then there were the ever-unescapable critics. He’s sure they had a lot to say (and likely still do), but if he hadn’t paid attention to them back then, he sure as hell isn’t going to do so now.

Fast forward two weeks, one front page cover of The Daily’s Body Issue, and a charity campaign kickoff later, and suddenly the tides have turned. Such was the number of requests Natasha had received from podcast hosts to talk show producers to book time with him that they had no other option but to schedule back-to-back interviews while he trains at the Avengers’ remote facility out in New Jersey. And that’s how he wound up in his current predicament – mic’d up on a plush leather seat in the Press Room in the middle of his third interview of the day with his patience running thin.

“Let’s talk about your career.”

The suggestion comes from his left, where a wooden desk with a surfeit of props across the surface has been assembled on the makeshift set. Behind it sits Johann Schmidt, the famously mercurial host of the streaming talk show HAIL HYDRA! and known to sports fans across the nation as the Red Skull – a moniker bestowed upon him for his impossibly sharp features and his penchant for dressing in the fiery color.

“7 seasons, 102 games played, 23,671 passing yards, 171 total touchdowns, 73.4% pass completion rate…”

As Schmidt rattles off a list of his career statistics, he steals a glance towards the front of the room, half expecting Natasha to interject that his pass completion rate is actually 74.3%, not 73.4. But she doesn’t, and he realizes that unlike the last few times she’s cut in when an interviewer misstates a fact about him or his career statistics, she isn’t doing so now because her attention is elsewhere. Or, more accurately, it’s being monopolized by the towering stranger she’s been talking to whose words have her tipping her head back in laughter.

The thought triggers a bitter taste in his mouth, and right then and there, it hits him. The inexplicable tension in his body, the irritation he feels – it’s nothing to do with Schmidt and his agitating line of questioning. It’s the green-eyed monster.

As he grapples with the thought, he shifts in his seat. He’s always been competitive. He is an athlete, after all, and he’s almost certain that anyone would be hard pressed to find one that didn’t prioritize winning. But jealousy is just not an emotion he’s ever leaned into. It’s childish, nonsensical, and he’s seen the crazy things it’s driven other people to do. Not to mention the fact that right now, he has absolutely no right to feel it – especially when it comes to his publicist, of all people.

“The New York Avengers haven’t had a successful run in the playoffs in quite some time.”

Schmidt’s statement pulls him out of his thoughts, and he crosses an ankle over a knee as he refocuses his attention on the host. “That said, it’s still the most storied franchise in the league, which is why it’s understandable that fans may be dubious about whether or not you’re the right man to lead the team back to glory.” Schmidt pauses, his expression bordering on menacing as he leans forward in his seat. “So, tell us, Steve, why do you think you’re the player to do that?” Schmidt lifts a shoulder. “What makes you so... special?”

“We all know I’ve suffered a major injury and that I haven’t played professionally in two seasons. So, I get it,” he acknowledges. “I get why fans are skeptical to give me a chance.” He shakes his head. “You ask what makes me the man to lift this team back up… What makes me so special? The answer, Schmidt, is nothing.” He shrugs. “It’s true that I’m often associated with LA because that’s where my career began. But at the end of the day, I’m just a kid from Brooklyn-”

“Just what every fan base wants to hear, am I right?” Schmidt interrupts, practically reveling in delight as he smirks. “The hero they’ve been waiting for… and he turns out to be nothing but ordinary.”

“Perhaps you see it that way, but I disagree,” he says, prompting Schmidt to raise a brow. “Being a kid from Brooklyn means that I can’t” – he pauses, shaking his head – “I won’t back down from a challenge.” He sighs. “So, while I can’t guarantee fans a Lombardi at the end of the season, what I can guarantee is that every time I put on that uniform, I will leave my heart out on that field.”

Schmidt is stunned into silence, and it’s only when the room suddenly bursts into applause that he comprehends why the man’s glib expression has soured into a scowl. Turning away from the host, he allows his eyes to sweep across the room to see the entire crew – both from the Avengers and from HYDRA – clapping enthusiastically. As he spots Darcy and Wanda in the corner, both of whom offer him a two thumbs up, pride begins to surge through him. But it’s only when he sees Natasha, her lips turning upwards as she gives him a nod of approval, that he finally smiles – his earlier discomfort all but forgotten.

“You killed it!” Natasha exclaims as he walks towards her at the end of the interview, and he’s surprised when she leans in to offer him a hug.

“Think so?” he says, returning the embrace and allowing himself to smile.

“Know so,” Natasha says as she pulls away. “Oh, and there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” Natasha moves to his side, and when he looks up, he straightens his stance when he sees the man she was talking to earlier standing before them. He’s dressed in an impeccably tailored charcoal suit, his stature massive enough that he could easily be a tight end or even a center. “Steve,” Natasha begins, “this is Thor Odinson, CEO of Point Break, the country’s leading athletic wear brand. They’re interested in sponsoring you.” Her words cause the tension in his shoulders to dissipate. “Thor, this is Steve Rogers, our quarterback.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Johann Schmidt stunned into silence before,” Thor says, flashing his perfect teeth as he smiles and extends his hand out to him. “Seriously, good job.”

“Thank you,” he says, shaking Thor’s hand. “But that was all Natasha. She prepared me well.”

He beams in pride as he turns to the woman in question, because if he’s learned anything in the last two weeks, it’s that Natasha’s dedication to her job is unparalleled. Every day since this media campaign has started, she’s easily the most prepared person in the room – ready to fire off a Plan B, C, or D when necessary. While things haven’t always been smooth sailing, he’s certain that nothing has ever escalated into a mishap because of her quick thinking. If he’s had any success in turning the public’s opinion on him, it’s only because he’s been fortunate enough to have her as his guide every step of the way.

More impressive than Natasha’s work ethic though, is her capacity for kindness, and it’s something he’s witnessed time and again throughout their relatively short time together. As his publicist, she’s often the first line of defense when it comes to the media, and though he’s only been back in the public eye for a brief period of time, he’s seen how brash they can be when they press her for information. And yet, she’s never been anything but professional, even when the person before her does not warrant it. Add to that all the little things – like the way she watches over her team and how lovingly she speaks of her sister – and he’s not sure how anyone can do anything but admire her.

“This one,” Thor says, pointing a thumb at Natasha, “is a force to be reckoned with.”

“Truer words have never been spoken,” he says to her more than anyone else, and as she playfully rolls her eyes, he pretends not to notice the hand Thor places on her shoulder.

“When he can nail interviews like that, my job is basically a breeze,” Natasha says, turning to Thor. “Anyway, shall the three of us discuss the sponsorship?”

“Yes, let’s,” Thor says, gesturing towards the door. “Lead the way, Nat.”

He arches a brow as he follows them out of the Press Room. Nat?

It’s a beautiful day out as the three of them discuss the potential deal around one of the tables in the patio of the facility, and as much as he hates to admit it, he learns that Thor’s actually a pretty cool guy – laidback, knowledgeable about football, and even a tinge hilarious. Before them, the turf is a rich verdant sea underneath the summer sun, and as he adjusts his sunglasses over his face, he makes a resolution to put aside what malicious emotions he may have felt in the Press Room. Regardless of his initial feelings towards the man, Thor could become his business associate, and he needs to act like the respectful partner that Point Break is interested in hiring.

When they finish going over Point Break’s proposal, the conversation inevitably shifts towards the game. Thor’s in the middle of seeking his opinion on the intricacies of a blitz when he’s interrupted by the sound of a phone ringing.

“Excuse me for a second, gentlemen,” Natasha says, picking up her phone from the table as her eyes scan over the name on the screen. “I need to take this.”

“Take your time,” Thor says, smiling brightly.

Natasha rises from her seat without looking back at either of them, turning away just as she answers the call to say, “Yelena, honey, is everything all right?”

His ears perk at the sound of Natasha’s sister’s name, and he finds himself only half listening as Thor moves on to telling him about how he won their company’s Fantasy Football League last season. He manages to insert a congratulations, and as Thor continues to outline his winning strategy, he shifts his focus to where Natasha is quietly talking on the phone a few feet away. Concern washes over him when he catches the way her brows furrow as she listens intently. Then, almost as quickly as she’d taken the call, she hangs up and puts her phone in her pocket.

“Everything okay?” he and Thor ask at the same time as she approaches their table.

“I’m not sure,” she says, eyebrows knitting as she looks bewilderedly between him and Thor. “But I do have to cut this meeting short. My apologies, but my sister lives on a campus a few miles from here and she said she really needs my help.”

“No need to apologize,” Thor says. “Can I-”

“I’ll come with you,” he says before Thor can finish his question. If the man turns his way at that, he doesn’t notice as he reaches to put a hand on Natasha’s arm.

“What? Steve, no,” she says, sighing. “I appreciate the offer, but you don’t have to. I don’t even know what’s up and you’ve already had a long day-”

“Natasha, I don’t mind,” he says unequivocally. He looks at her face, and in the short time he’s known her, he doesn’t recall ever seeing genuine worry fill her eyes until right this very moment. “At least let me drive you.”

“Wouldn’t hurt to have an extra set of hands, actually,” Thor suggests lightly as he gathers the last of the papers on the table and stands.

He nods at Thor – liking the guy more and more – before looking back at Natasha, who bites her lip. Eventually, she sighs. “Okay,” she says. “Let’s go.”

“All right,” he says, turning around and extending his hands out like a gameshow host about to unveil the grand prize. “I present to you… one outrageously blue and velvety couch ready for some serious binge watching!”

Yelena holds up a finger as she inspects his work. “First of all, it’s called a loveseat.” He rolls his eyes at that – forty-five minutes into knowing her and already there’s no denying that she and Natasha are sisters. “And second, Natasha never mentioned your handyman skills,” Yelena says before shrugging. “But then again, that’s probably because she’s always so busy going on and on about your impossibly blue eyes.”

“Do you like being able to breathe?”

He looks towards the source of the threat, and he’s unable to keep the smile off his lips when he sees Natasha, her cheeks slightly flushed as she looks up from her phone to glare at Yelena from the recliner she’s on. She’d been a nervous wreck the entire drive over to Yelena’s off-campus apartment, and it’s the first time he’s really seen her be anything other than calm and collected. That all changed though once they pulled up to see what Yelena’s emergency was really about – a loveseat she had purchased at a yard sale that she couldn’t bring up the narrow staircase by herself. In that moment, he recalls thinking that if looks could kill, the daggers Natasha was sending her little sister would have had Yelena on the ground.

Yelena just smirks in her sister’s direction before looking back at him. “Thank you for carrying it up.”

“Yeah, it’s not as if you were risking anything,” Natasha says dryly before he can reply. “The hands you use to throw the ball are only insured for a bajillion dollars.”

He rolls his lips in an attempt to suppress a laugh. The fact of the matter is, had Natasha not objected for the reason she just stated, he’s completely certain that he could have carried the loveseat all by himself without any trouble. Further, to say that he helped carry it up feels like an oversimplification when in reality, he ended up shouldering most of the weight anyway while the two sisters yelled and bickered all the way to Yelena’s apartment. And though he’s having way too much fun seeing the older sister side of Natasha, he knows better than to add fuel to the fire by voicing his thoughts. Instead, he opts for sharing an amused look with Yelena.

“Just wait until I tell my friends that the Avengers’ quarterback carried my loveseat,” Yelena says, wiggling her brows.

He grins. “Don’t leave out my impossibly blue eyes, okay?”

“Is that okay with you, sis?” Yelena says, looking over her shoulder. “You wouldn’t mind other women also getting lost in Steve’s eyes, would you?”

“Yelena!” Natasha admonishes, her jaw dropping. As she jolts forward in her seat, he tries to ignore the part of him that’s a little enthralled by the fact that she hasn’t exactly denied her sister’s claim. “You do realize I still work with your personal crane lift over there, yes?”

Yelena moves to stand next to him, making a show of leaning in as if to whisper something in his ear. “Don’t worry,” she says, keeping her voice at an audible volume as she pats his shoulder. “I’ll put in a good word for you with my friends.”

“Pleasure doing business with you,” he says, extending his hand out to Yelena to shake and chuckling when Natasha narrows her eyes at him from across the room.

“Jokes aside, though,” Yelena says, walking over to the back of the recliner Natasha’s sitting on to wrap her arms around her sister. “Thank you for coming.” She looks back at him. “And for bringing me my own crane lift.”

He shakes his head fondly at Yelena, and from where he’s standing, he watches as Natasha does her best to keep the annoyed expression on her face, but it only lasts a second before she sighs.

“Come here,” Natasha says, scooting over. Yelena curls up next to her, leaning her head on her shoulder. “You realize you could have just said you needed help, right? You didn’t have to scare me half to death.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Yelena posits, squealing when Natasha begins to poke her side. “Okay, okay!” – she pauses to giggle, holding her hands up in surrender – “It’s just that Mom said you were in the area. But I know you’ve been so busy lately, so I thought I needed some theatrics to actually get you to come over.” She pouts as she turns to Natasha. “I missed you a little.”

Natasha’s eyes soften. “Oh, malyshka,” she says. “You know I’ll always make time for you.” She sighs. “All you have to do is ask.”

“I know that…” Yelena says, shrugging when Natasha raises a brow at her. “Most of the time.” She smiles sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I actually got a lot of things done while you two argued about the couch placement,” Natasha says before looking towards him and rolling her eyes once more as Yelena goes on about how it’s actually called a loveseat. “Thor put the paperwork for the sponsorship through.”

“Already?” he asks, his brows shooting to his hairline in surprise when she nods. “Natasha.”

She beams. “He said he was very impressed with you this morning.”

“Impressed with me or impressed with my publicist?” he teases.

“Well, I can be plenty charming.” Her words elicit a scoff from Yelena, who she turns to glare at. “The point being,” she says, looking back at him. “As of twenty minutes ago, you’re officially the new face of Point Break!”

“I can’t-” he begins, but the words escape him and he can only shake his head in disbelief.

“So, what I’m hearing is...” Yelena says as he continues to process the news. “If I hadn’t forced you to leave that meeting, you’d probably still be going over the semantics and Steve wouldn’t have this deal, am I right?”

“Nice try,” Natasha says. “You still owe us.”

“Since we’re on that subject,” he says, “I think there’s a way you can pay… well, honestly, this is just for me and my morbid curiosity.” Natasha’s brows furrow at his words, while Yelena looks at him expectantly. He grins. “Got any old photo albums here?”

Yelena’s face lights up. “Even better. I have home videos!”

He pumps his fist in celebration, and it’s when Yelena bounds off the recliner and towards her room that Natasha’s eyes widen. “Yelena!”

“Your sister’s a great kid,” he says later on as they get back into the car.

“The best,” she says, adoration filling her expression as she clicks her seatbelt on. “She can be a little punk sometimes, but I love her all the same. Couldn’t be prouder of her, too.”

“Seems to me like she had a good role model,” he says.

She just shrugs. “Anyhow, thanks for helping out back there. I’d say I owe you one, but you did rummage through photos of me with braces and bad haircuts, so I’d say we’re even.”

“You were adorable!” he says, chuckling. “And the cheerleading videos of you in middle school? Priceless! I know you said you did ballet-”

“When did I say that?” she asks, brows knitting together. He opens his mouth to tell her, but he quickly presses his lips back together when he realizes the answer. A hand flies to the back of his neck, and in that moment, the memory seems to come back to her as well as she clears her throat. “What was that about anyway?” He arches a brow at her, to which she rolls her eyes. “The photo albums, I mean.”

“Well, I did say I was trying to learn more about you,” he says. “Sure, a person’s past doesn't necessarily define them, but it can at least give some insight into why they’ve become who they are.” He shrugs. “Just trying to figure you out, is all.”

“Really, you’re curious?” she presses, her nose scrunching. “About me?”

“So curious I think you should just let me interrogate you to get it over with,” he says, smiling as he adds, “preferably over dinner.” He holds up a hand. “Not that your sister’s cookies aren’t delicious and satisfying, but I don’t think my trainer is going to buy that I got my protein fix from the peanut butter chips.”

She chuckles, her expression growing contemplative as she bites her lip. “I guess we could discuss our Social Media strategy for the Point Break promos…” she says, “and whatnot.”

“Yeah, and whatnot,” he echoes, a smile creeping onto his lips.

This isn’t weird. This isn’t weird at all. At least, that’s what Natasha chants to herself as she and Steve cut through the lobby of their hotel en route to the restaurant at the back. For starters, it’s not as though she’s never had dinner with other athletes before. She has – many times, in fact – which is how she knew to book a table towards the back and to request to be seated immediately. Plus, she and Steve actually do have business matters to discuss. Even if he has just (voluntarily) been to her sister’s apartment to assist with a chore, that shouldn’t make this time any different from all the other times she’s shared a meal with one of the Avengers.

As they make their way into Christopher’s Bistro, the wooden floors beneath them glisten under the warm lighting, the earthy tones of their tablecloths coupled with the seafoam green cushioned booths offering a quaint coziness. In spite of the charming ambiance though, she finds herself scrupulously scanning the dining room. Much to her surprise, it’s not as packed as she thought it would be for a Friday night – just a handful of couples and a few families enjoying their supper – but even so, her eyes continue to search for any possible red flags.

It’s not that she’s being paranoid, per se. But if experience is anything to go by, she knows that the possibility of Steve getting mobbed by adoring fans is ever present. He may not be the most famous athlete out there at the moment, and yes, they weren’t in New York, but that doesn’t mean they don’t still run the risk of some eagle-eyed football aficionado noticing him. Better safe than sorry may be a cliché, but it’s one she’s an ardent fan of.

As if to underscore her point, her instincts are proven right when they arrive at the maître d’s podium. She zeroes in on the bar, her mental alarm going off when she catches sight of a group of women, shot glasses in their hands and their university’s insignia painted on some of their cheeks. One of them, a tall brunette sporting a halter top emblazoned with three Greek letters, looks up from her phone, her jaw dropping and her eyes lighting up in recognition when she sees Steve.

“Shit,” she mutters as the woman taps her friend on the shoulder, presumably to share the news. She turns to Steve, eyes wide as she grabs a hold of his arm in an effort to whisper, “sorority tailgate, twelve o’clock!”

He stares at her, dumbfounded. “Huh?”

“Ms. Romanoff, your table is ready.”

The maître d’s words rise above her second warning, but there’s no use in reiterating it because it’s too late. The ruckus has already begun as the group of women hop off the bar stools and make their way towards them, and if this were a game, this would be the part where the pocket collapses and the quarterback gets sacked.

You’re Steve Rogers, right? Loved you on the cover of the Body Issue! I’m so excited for your return! Can you sign my shirt?

Flashes go off as a number of them pull out their phones, extending them outwards to snap a picture with Steve, who, in spite of the surprise in his eyes, just goes along and smiles. And from where she stands in front of the group, she offers him an encouraging nod because at the moment, that’s the best he can do to not escalate the situation.

It’s only when the tall brunette turns to Steve, one hand curling around his bicep as her girlfriends continue to snap away, that her eyes widen. Immediately, she pictures the headline Quarterback Scores Before Season Even Begins making its rounds in some form or another through every news outlet in the morning, and with a sigh, she pushes through the melee, tugging Steve towards her as she reaches him.

“All right, ladies,” she begins, making sure her voice can be heard over the commotion. “Thank you for the well wishes and the photos, but I’m afraid Steve has a meeting to get to.” She shoots the women a smile that’s all at once too big and too saccharine. “Have a great rest of your evening, and remember, go Avengers!”

Without looking back, she pushes Steve away from the group and out of the restaurant, stopping only when they make it back to the lobby. For good measure, she maneuvers him to the side and behind one of the marble pillars before pulling out her phone. She sighs. “Obviously, we’ll need to find someplace else to eat.”

Steve puts a hand over her phone, forcing her to look up at him. “What are the chances they’re the only group of people we’ll have to dodge?”

“On a Friday night in a college town?” she says, her words eliciting a cringe from him. She points a thumb in the direction of the elevators. “We could just forgo dinner. Call it a night.”

“Or,” he says, grabbing her attention, “we could try this thing that starts with room and ends with service? I hear it’s great. You tell them what you want, they bring it to your room so you don’t get accosted while you eat...” She scoffs at him, causing him to chuckle. “Unless, of course, starving to death is your thing.”

“Well, genius, looks like I’ll have you to thank for not dying of starvation,” she says, shaking her head as she smiles. “Goodnight, Steve.”

“Wait,” he says, grabbing a hold of her wrist as she turns to leave. “We still have to discuss the deal and whatnot, remember?”

She tilts her head to the side in confusion. “But you just said we should get room service.”

“Believe it or not, you can order room service for more than one person at a time,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “So, your suite or mine?”

Her brow arches. Okay, so maybe now it’s a little weird.

Voices from the television echo softly in the background as she and Steve sit at the table in her suite, chipping away at the small feast before them. And as they slip effortlessly into conversation, she finds herself glad that this situation isn’t as weird as she thought it would be.

“Are you sure your calling is in PR? Because I really think we could use you on the O-line.”

“I like all my bones exactly where they are, thank you very much,” she says, scoffing as she brings her drink to her lips.

“Just sayin’,” Steve says, spearing a piece of steak with his fork. “I’ve had the meanest defenses come after me while running out of the pocket. But that down there? That was terrifying.” He tips his head back, laughing. “Meanwhile, you handled them like a total badass!”

“Oh, please,” she says. “That group is nothing compared to the pool of reporters I have to reel in every game day. You’ll see.” He hums in response, and she smiles as she shifts in her seat. “So, the Point Break deal.”

He sighs, seemingly still in disbelief. “I can’t believe it. I honestly don’t know if I’ve processed it just yet.” His eyes are full of gratitude as he looks at her. “Natasha, I can’t thank you enough for making it all come true.”

“Hey, I just made the talking points,” she says. “You did the rest.”

“I don’t think so,” he says, shaking his head. “My last sponsor dropped me after I got injured. Then after the scandal with my agent and my very, very public divorce...” He sighs. “Companies didn’t want to touch me with a ten foot pole. And now suddenly it’s as if they’re seeing me in a new light.” He shrugs. “It’s no coincidence that they’ve changed their mind since you’ve come along.”

“Steve, I didn’t highlight anything that wasn’t already there,” she says earnestly, reaching across the table to put her hand on his when he begins to disagree. “Sometimes people just need a little help seeing through the fog.”

“Yeah?” he asks softly.

She nods, and as he smiles, she tries not to pay too much attention to the little flutter in her chest as she retracts her hand.

As they continue on with their meal, they delve further into the deal with Point Break, discussing in detail how to roll out the promos across his Social Media channels to garner the most engagement. Inevitably, though, they segue into other topics, and she recalls his assumption about her knowing everything about him because she has access to his personal file. And while she did know more about him than most people, if her line of work has taught her anything, it’s that you don’t ever really know someone just by reading about them.

With that in mind, she asks him about his mom, and what it was like growing up with just the two of them as a family unit. Steve’s eyes light up with adoration as he speaks of his mother, and he tells her about all the sacrifices Sarah Rogers has made for him – from working extra shifts to ensure he had the latest cleats to fighting to get him into the high school with the best football program. It’s then that he reveals why his former agent’s betrayal had hurt so much. Their friendship notwithstanding, his agent had embezzled money he had put away to buy his mother’s dream home. And though that incident hadn’t bankrupted him, it did endanger the one thing he wants most in life: to make sure that his mother never has to lift a finger ever again.

“That’s really great of you, Steve,” she says.

“Ma deserves it,” he says simply. “She deserves the world.”

She smiles. “She must be so proud of you.”

“She says she is,” he says with a nod. “But she also likes to say that I’m her favorite son even though I’m her only son, so sometimes I take what she says with a grain of salt.” They both chuckle, and he shakes his head. “Honestly, though? I think I’m the one who’s proud of her. From what I’ve seen growing up, being a single parent seems like the hardest thing on the planet.” He shrugs. “So, yeah, I do want to give her everything her heart desires.”

“I get what you mean,” she says. “Melina, our mom, raised me and Yelena all on her own. I don’t know where we would be if she hadn’t adopted us.”

“You and Yelena are adopted?” he asks, brows rising.

She nods. “Mom adopted me first, and then Yelena three years after,” she explains before smiling. “And our lives have been better because of it.” She lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “I know I’ll never be able to match what she did for us. But hey, helping out with Yelena’s college costs feels like a decent start.”

“Isn’t that what really matters, though?” he says. “Looking after those who looked after us, no matter how big or how small?”

“Yeah,” she says softly. “That’s exactly what matters.”

A comfortable silence envelops them for a beat, their shared sentiment hanging in the air between them. “Well, on that note,” he says eventually, “since you so graciously hosted me in your suite” – he gestures towards their plates – “allow me to do the cleanup.”

“I won’t argue with that,” she says, watching as he walks over to the phone on the nightstand and calls room service for a pickup. When he returns to gather their plates onto the tray, she moves out of the way, plopping down on the foot of her bed. Her eyes turn to the television as he crosses the room to put the tray in the hall, and she smiles when she sees Moonraker playing on the television. “Why did you break up the encounter with my pet python?” she mouths along as Hugo Drax’s imposing form looms on screen. “Because I discovered he had a crush on me.”

“Who has a crush on who now?”

She turns in the direction of the door, her expression turning sheepish when she sees Steve, arms crossed over his chest as he leans against the wall with a smirk on his lips. “Hugo Drax’s python is crushing on James Bond. Allegedly.”

He purses his lips. “I don’t think I follow.”

“You’ve never seen Moonraker?” she says, barely containing her surprise when he shakes his head no. “But you’ve seen other James Bond movies, right?”

“I think I saw... The Man With the Silver Gun?”

“Golden Gun,” she corrects, watching as he shrugs.

An idea crosses her mind then, but the second it does, she already knows it’s a bad one. It’s one thing for her to let him help out with Yelena’s faux emergency. And though she doesn’t make a habit out of sharing her perspective on work and family with her clients, it’s not really that far out of line. But what she’s currently contemplating? It could be dangerous. As in, Icarus-flying-too-close-to-the-sun or walking-out-into-a-blizzard-in-your-underwear dangerous. But then she thinks about tonight – about how she thought having dinner with him would be weird when in reality, it’s been pleasantly eye-opening. If they could handle that, surely they could handle this.

With that, she pats the space next to her. “Come on.”

Slowly, his eyes pinball from her face to where her hand lies and back. “You sure?”

“Eh, what the hell,” she says, scooting back against the pillows. “I really like this movie and you’re embarrassingly James Bond-impaired.” He manages to scoff at that, and she looks at him as he remains frozen in place. “But only if you want to, of course.”

“I want to,” he says, and they both pretend not to notice how quickly his answer had come. He clears his throat, pushing off the wall before walking to the other side of her bed. “May I?”

“Have at it,” she says, settling back into the pillows. She watches as he reluctantly takes a seat on the mattress, his feet still on the ground. “I’m not going to push you off the bed if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“At least not while I’m looking, right?” He laughs softly when she mumbles maybe, then he’s toeing his shoes off, and she feels the bed dip as he settles back down on the pillows next to her. “So,” he says, turning his head to face her. “Tell me about this movie.”

She shifts to her side, propping her head up on her hand. “So it all starts when this space shuttle…”

The room is dark when she stirs awake a while later, the only source of light coming from the glow of the television screen as the credits roll. But it’s not so much the fact that she’d fallen asleep during her favorite movie that causes her eyes to widen as much as it is the arm she feels around her waist. And she does not have to turn around to know that Steve Rogers is in her bed. But not only that, he’s in her bed and cuddling her.

She cycles through the options in her head. She could – should – extricate herself from his arms and leave. That's the most obvious solution. Only this is her room, and based on the steady breaths she feels against the back of her neck, she knows he’s sound asleep. She could always wake him, of course. Keep them from crossing any more lines than they already have.

Then it dawns on her. She doesn’t want to. And, perhaps the most disconcerting part of it all is that right now, even though she knows she shouldn’t feel this way, she’s completely comfortable. So comfortable, in fact, that she could easily let herself drift back into a peaceful slumber and pretend like she’s not a publicist in bed with her player. And so, she does.

But come morning, when the sun’s rays begin to peek through the spaces between the curtains, filling her room with signs of a brand new day, the cold and empty space next to her is one reality she can’t sleep away

Chapter 2 | Chapter 4

#Romanogers #Game Plan #Natasha Romanoff #Steve Rogers #one night stand AU #natrogers

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Text

extra 2 for Tedious Joys - warnings for adult content, WRH/Lao Nie, slightly dubcon, not necessarily in the same universe as the previous extra, possibly AU

ao3 link

Humans had three modes of dealing with evil things: fighting, feeding, and fucking.

Much to Jiwei’s disgust, it seemed that her Master could not be dissuaded from treating with Wen Ruohan through the last of these.

You’re disgusted any time I pick the ‘fucking’ option, her Master said tolerantly. He was watching Wen Ruohan’s body as the other man moved through the crowd like a shark amidst waters filled with fat fish, merciful and restrained only in his current lack of interest and yet convinced of his superiority. You’re barely more interested when I pick ‘feeding’, and my body would collapse if I stopped doing that.

I’ve heard good things about inedia, Jiwei retorted, but her Master only laughed. You agree that he’s evil, though.

Jiwei, sweetheart, you think almost everyone is evil.

Because they are!

The ethical frailty of humanity was practically a given at this point: one need only look around this sect conference to find examples of it, the hall teeming with the stench of moral corruption. Sect leaders who would sell their daughters for an iota more of power, who had blood on their hands from executions conducted behind closed doors, liars, thieves, cheats, crooks, evil –

To be both good and evil is natural, Jiwei, even for us two. It’s not worthy of a death sentence.

Jiwei was not arguing in any seriousness: she had long ago reached the conclusion that it was not a debate that her Master was inclined to yield upon, and of course he had long ago won the argument. After all, her Master had done his share of terrible things too, in his time, to defend his sect and his family as needed, and she had been at his side, aiding him as she ought.

She was not as rigid as Baxia, that fearsome child, who longed only, as her master did, for righteousness; she would not argue with her master the way Baxia did, quibbling over mundanities as if the human world were something that could be judged through the merits of a saber. But then Baxia had Nie Mingjue, whose soul was very near to a saber itself – unbending in its ferocity and clear in its simplicity – and Nie Mingjue listened to his saber in a way his father did not, too close and too compassionate, too forgiving of his inhuman partner’s flaws and too willing to take the time to convince when he ought to simply order.

Perhaps it was simply different for the two of them.

Baxia had roared to life with an ancient soul, a queen among sabers, and even Jiwei would not so easily choose to face her down, for all that she was more clever and more practiced, more thoughtful and more reserved, her power the greater, but her potential worse. Luckily it seemed unlikely to ever become an issue, what with Nie Mingjue earnestly trying to teach Baxia the meaning of being filial to one’s elders, as if age were at all relevant to a saber spirit.

Still, even if she were not Baxia, Jiwei had her own pride: she was still a saber, stubborn and inflexible, and so she said, Even Lan Qiren thinks you shouldn’t fuck him.

Jiwei rather begrudgingly liked Lan Qiren. She hadn’t at first, of course – not that she’d noticed him much when he was just a fellow cultivator her Master had taken a shine to, a teenager with a strange manner and his own pride, but later, when her only thought of him had been to wonder how he would dare attempt to interfere with her connection with her Master – but he was stubborn in his own way, obstinate, uncompromising, tenacious.

There was even unexpectedly some rage in him, buried deep beneath his rules and the scars left on his heart – not enough to do anything with it, the poor soul, but enough to show that he knew what it was. Jiwei had finally started condescending to give him a little of her time and attention, maybe a little of her rage that he always seemed to be seeking: at least he knew that he needed it.

Lan Qiren doesn’t want to fuck anyone, her Master said, fond as always. He, at least, would be more than happy to fuck Lan Qiren if the other man were interested. He doesn’t understand the appeal, so how can he really make a judgment on the matter?

Jiwei wasn’t sure that was how it worked – her Master respected Lan Qiren’s judgment on all sorts of things that Lan Qiren didn’t personally appreciate, and in all honesty she suspected that her Master was thinking with all the brain in the lower half of his body again – but she also didn’t actually care all that much.

Wen Ruohan hates Lan Qiren, she said instead, not for the first time that day.

Her Master frowned, as he did before. I don’t know what’s gotten into Hanhan over it. He even went and got Qiren drunk again, and I thought he swore never to be in his vicinity while drunk ever again, after last time.

Lan Qiren, when drunk, dropped all façade of caring about other people’s lack of interest in his favorite subjects, and also any reservations about using his strength and body to pin people into place – he’d held Wen Ruohan down by the arm, and ended up at one point in his lap to loudly insist that he pay attention because they were just getting to the interesting part, despite assurances by Wen Ruohan that it was not interesting, had never been interesting, and that he would shortly begin to bite off his own limbs in order to escape if it did not rapidly become more interesting.

Her Master had gone over at that point, nominally to assist but actually in order to enjoy having Lan Qiren on his own lap, and yet somehow that had only made Wen Ruohan’s expression worse.

Humans were so confusing.

Didn’t you tell Lan Qiren that you’d rescue him sooner if he got drunk again?

Her Master laughed, but he put down his drink and went: Lan Qiren had drunk four toasts, which was three and three-quarters more than he could tolerate, and he had cornered some poor sect leader and started in on some subject on musical cultivation that even Jiwei, who had no ears, could identify as being both esoteric and extremely boring.

Wen Ruohan caught her Master by the wrist before he got to Lan Qiren’s side.

“You should come spend some time with me, my friend,” he said, his eyes intent, purposeful, gaze as hot as the sun patterned on his clothing. “I have scarcely seen you this evening.”

Because you were too busy trying to get Lan Qiren drunk for some reason, Jiwei said scathingly, and her Master shushed her.

“The days in your Nightless City are long and the nights longer, A-Han,” her Master said, turning his hand to stroke two fingers along the underside of Wen Ruohan’s wrist – the other man released his hand, recoiling as if he’d been burnt; he had never grown accustomed to her Master’s shameless displays of affection. “There will still be time for us to spend time together.”

Wen Ruohan’s eyes narrowed. “But not now.”

“Not now,” her Master said agreeably. “I promised Qiren that I wouldn’t let him embarrass himself.”

“Someone else could do that.”

“They could, yes, but I’m the one that promised him.”

Wen Ruohan’s lips twisted. “You promise him many things. More than you should, with him the sect leader of another sect…”

“So are you, Hanhan,” the Master said. “And don’t I promise you the moon and the stars, if only I could fetch them down for you?”

The poetry of humans was truly insipid, in Jiwei’s view, and yet like all monsters Wen Ruohan both hated and loved the purity of her Master’s emotions, his heart offered on a platter without reservations.

It didn’t seem to be working this time, though.

“Go to him, then,” Wen Ruohan sneered, his jaw tight from where he was grinding his teeth together. “I trust you will tell me, then, when you finally decide to promise him that I will no longer be sharing your bed.”

I like him when he’s jealous, her Master remarked to her, and sometimes Jiwei thought her Master could be a very stupid man. He’s never more ferocious and passionate than he is when he thinks someone has taken something of his.

Never more dangerous, you mean. You always did like the ones that could and did want to kill you.

It adds some spice to life.

Life is not a food. It does not require spice.

You don’t eat, sweetheart; what do you know?

Jiwei considered this comment to fall into the same category as the one about Lan Qiren not knowing a bad idea just because he was sensible enough not to want to fuck it.

“Lan Qiren has no say in who I allow to share my bed,” he said, and stepped forward abruptly: Wen Ruohan, his senses as always tuned to the highest level of paranoia, instinctively stepped back, and so allowed her Master to corner him up against the wall, bringing their faces level and close to each other until their breath was shared. “Don’t think I didn’t see who was sending all those toasts to him, A-Han.”

“You object?” Wen Ruohan hissed, trying to pretend that he was unmoved by her Master’s nearness – as if anyone could miss the blood pounding through his veins, or the hardness beneath his clothing that her Master deliberately pressed his thigh against in a teasing gesture that made Wen Ruohan inhale sharply.

Wen Ruohan was too powerful, Jiwei thought; his wives treated him like a god, and his concubines like something even higher – he had never been treated so intimately, so recklessly and without care for whether or not he approved, and he was fascinated by it.

“Do you like him?” her Master asked, and Wen Ruohan’s eyes went wide in indignation. “The Lan sect breeds for beauty, and he’s got his fair share of it, even if he doesn’t think of it that way.”

“You cannot be serious.”

“There’s something appealing even in his very disinterest,” her Master mused, and Jiwei resigned herself to hearing this again. “He’s above such things, like a statue carved into the mountainside, untouchable and cold, the stone unyielding, and yet his flesh is as soft as any other man’s – it would give if you pressed on it. Turn red if you dug your fingers in, bruising like the skin of a ripe peach.”

Wen Ruohan’s throat worked as he swallowed.

“You like that sort of thing, don’t you? You like it when people are in pain…you like the rush of power it gives you. There are other ways of having power, A-Han.”

Her Master had thoroughly pinned Wen Ruohan against the wall now, even though the other sect leader’s cultivation was higher, his physical strength above their own. Their hips were slotted together, the two of them grinding up against each other, and Wen Ruohan’s mouth was a little agape, his lips and the tongue between them very red.

“There are,” he murmured, eying her Master as if he wanted to peel off his skin and devour him whole, put him in his belly where no one else would be able to reach him. “And this is his: that even now you will leave me and go to him instead.”

Her Master laughed.

“I need to take him to bed,” he murmured, words deliberately ambiguous, and Wen Ruohan jerked in his grasp – perhaps her Master was not so wrong in thinking that Wen Ruohan admired the coldly beautiful Lan Qiren more than he should. “Why don’t you help me?”

Wen Ruohan frowned, even as her Master stepped away. “Help you?”

“Take him to bed,” her Master said, and smiled as Wen Ruohan scowled at him. “It’ll be easier to carry him with two of us.”

Lan Qiren did not especially want to go with them, eager to continue his elaboration on whatever subject he was on now – actually a method for temporarily cutting off someone’s breathing using sound alone, not that anyone would be able to tell unless they had an excellent understanding of musical notation, esoteric cultivation techniques, and the human pulmonary system – although the sect leaders he had cornered were deeply grateful for the intervention. Still, Lan Qiren was a cultivator of song and thought, his strength respectable but nothing in comparison to martial cultivators like Jiwei’s Master or Wen Ruohan; they were easily able to drag him away despite his protests.

Her Master eased the way further by picking up another jar of wine and pouring it into Lan Qiren’s throat as they fought to get him up the stairs, the additional liquor finally acting to push him from wildness into quietude in a single step: he fell asleep at once, instantly becoming as limp as a fully cooked noodle and just as inconvenient.

“Do you have to deal with this every time?” Wen Ruohan complained.

Jiwei’s Master chuckled. “It helps to have experience,” he said, tapping the side of his nose. “Come, get his shoes off while I get the bed ready.”

“You treat me as if I were a common servant,” Wen Ruohan said disdainfully, although he did kneel and remove Lan Qiren’s shoes. Jiwei almost wondered at his willingness, given Wen Ruohan’s usual self-perception as a soon-to-be deity, or at least she did until he ran his fingers up Lan Qiren’s calf and even up to his inner thigh, his gaze firmly fixed on Jiwei’s Master as if in challenge – he was starting something, of course.

“You can’t make him jump when he’s like this,” her Master said, unmoved by the provocation. “He’s utterly insensate; he wouldn’t even notice if you put your hand on his dick.”

“Maybe I should,” Wen Ruohan said, the implicit challenge now outright.

“Maybe you should put it on mine instead,” her Master said. “There’s a second bed in the room.”

Jiwei did not have eyes, but she could enjoy the expression of shock on Wen Ruohan’s face through her Master’s perception of it.

“You’re not serious,” Wen Ruohan said. He did not sound repulsed by the idea – merely surprised that Jiwei’s Master had suggested it, and more than a little intrigued by it.

“I’ve gone night-hunting with him before,” her Master said. “He understands that men who are not him have needs that must be fulfilled; he’s told me before that he doesn’t mind me getting myself off near him, or even while thinking of him, as long as I don’t involve him.”

“You’re rather pushing the boundaries of that agreement, aren’t you?”

Jiwei’s Master had a smile full of teeth – his own type of shark, his own type of monster. “Don’t you like pushing boundaries the most, A-Han?”

It was things like this that drew a clear line between Jiwei’s Master and Baxia’s, Jiwei thought to herself, amused. In the ranking of things that were dear to her Master, his sect came first, and all else second, even family, friendship, or morality; Nie Mingjue, in contrast, would rank family first, morality second, and sect third, and would never take even minimal advantage of a friend, even when the gains were great and the downsides almost none.

Their power over Wen Ruohan was useful to the Nie sect, and pleasing to Jiwei’s Master on a personal basis; the power they drew out from their dual cultivation beneficial to both him and her – they did, in fact, engage in it on the second bed in the room, her Master’s voice rough against his Hanhan’s ear, spinning fantasy and filth at the same time, both their gazes fixed firmly on where Lan Qiren slept innocently on, detached in his disinterest and unlikely to object to anything other than the sheer impropriety of it even if he awoke.

Certainly that had been his reaction the last few times her Master had brought someone back to the single room at the inn that they had been sharing – not that Wen Ruohan needed to know that he wasn’t the first.

Do you intend to court them both? Jiwei asked, curious. It wasn’t the worst idea, even if she despaired at the thought of there being even more fucking instead of fighting: Lan Qiren’s coolness was a good counterbalance to Wen Ruohan’s heat, even if Wen Ruohan’s viciousness was more their speed than Lan Qiren’s level-headed contemplation and compassion. If he obtained them both, her Master could get the benefits of Lan Qiren’s company and conversation, which he truly enjoyed, and Wen Ruohan’s body and cleverness, and perhaps with two of them at his side Wen Ruohan would finally find himself content with what he had, able to stop his endless quest for more, more, more, the yawning pit of greed that lay beneath his arrogance and drove him to do increasingly terrible things.

Perhaps, if they’d let me, her Master replied. His mental voice was tight the way it always was when he dual cultivated with another cultivator, in the time before he reached release – he would be full of energy in the morning, excitable; their morning training together would be especially good for them both, strengthening them as they shared the qi between them. They’d be a force to be reckoned with, especially with me beside them…Qiren doesn’t like sex, but he’s never objected to romance, so it’s not hopeless. Hanhan could be taught to respect limits, and Qiren’s always been remarkably easy-going with those he considers his friends. It would be a good match. Don’t you agree, sweetheart?

You’ve always had eyes for things bigger than you can swallow, Jiwei said. She would roll her eyes if she had them. Well, good luck. Don’t let it be your funeral.

Don’t worry, her Master said, reckless as always. I won’t.

#mdzs #lan qiren #wen ruohan #sect leader nie #my fic #my fics #tedious joys #extras

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bbyboybrock--archived · 3 years

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Welcome Home (Trap House Imagine)

Summary: *REQUEST* Hey, i was wondering if I could request something for Colby. The Reader is his Older Sister (About 27 yrs) and she is in the Army and was overseas for a few months and she wants to surprise Colby. Sam and everyone else is in on this and help her out. Can you make it a bit longer and emotional. Also can she be like an Older Sister to everyone of them?

Written: 2020

Word Count: 950

Warnings: swearing

Masterlist

I stare out the window and watch the various palm trees pass me by. LA is so different from Germany. Hotter too, not by much, but enough to notice. I was overseas in a base in Germany for a little over a year. The last time I was in the States, I went straight home to Kansas to spend time with my parents. I didn’t even get to spend time with Colby. I got called out last minute before he got home. I only got to spend time with my parents and Gage. No offense to them, they’re my family and they’re great, I just closest to my baby brother. Every time I applied for leave in the past few months, I would tell Colby and get denied. This time, I decided that I would surprise him so I wouldn’t get his hopes up.

Sam picked me up from the airport. Over the past few years, I’ve become friends with all of Colby’s friends. His friend group is like a small family, they’re welcoming and actually fun to be around. No disrespect to my actual family, but they can be a bit much. So when I got approved for long-term leave, I decided that I would spend all five out of my six months in LA. I already spent a month with my parents, and luckily, they never said anything to Colby. As far as he’s concerned, I’m still on the other side of the world.

“So, do you remember the plan?” Sam asks, turning down the radio.

“Yes, sir! Colby is out doing with Kevin and Aryia. That gives us time to get to your house, hang out with everyone else, and find a place for me to hide. Then, you guys are going to film a hide and seek video, where Colby is going to be the seeker. The goal is to have me be the last one found so he’s thrown for a loop. We’ve been talking about this for days, Sam. I got this.” I ruffle the younger boy’s hair and continue to stare out the window.

****

Not to be a bitch, but Colby is fucking slow. I waited in the backyard for nearly an hour before Sam came to get me. Honestly, if I knew how long it would have taken Colby to find everyone else, I would have gone out to eat or something. Everyone hid in easy to find places too, but I guess with the blindfold, everything is 10 times harder.

“I think you guys are messing with me. What the fuck do you mean there’s one more person? Whose left? Who am I missing?” I hear Colby outside his room. I’m pretty sure everyone has given up and just led him to the general vicinity of my hiding place. Which is his closet, the worst place that I could think of to hide. I also saw the handcuffs on his bedpost. I don’t even want to think about what he’s using those for. I guess my baby brother isn’t much of a baby anymore.

“Just look. We’re giving you a hint by giving you the room but you’re on your own, brother. Hurry up, we’re hungry.” Jake says, louder now.

“Are we in my room? I thought we said bedrooms were off-limits?” Colby whines.

“Will you shut up and just go already?” Someone screams.

I sit on the floor and watch Colby stumble around his room. I’m sure he’s done so drunk hundreds of times, but for some reason, he’s struggling. I watch him bump into his bed for the 5th time, nearly falling. Everyone is standing outside his room trying not to laugh.

“Oh my God, just check the fucking closet bro!” Kevin yells, finally having enough. Honestly, I’m glad someone said it, I was ready to just jump out at him myself.

Colby makes his way to the closet and starts waving the nerf gun around. He walks forward a bit too closely and accidentally kicks me hard. I don’t make a peep but that shit hurts. Colby freezes for a second before pointing the nerf gun to my face. I quickly cover my face in time to protect what would have been a gnarly eyeshot.

“Alright, you got me!” I shout standing up. Colby freezes again before ripping off his blindfold.

“Holy shit!” Colby drops the nerf gun and jumps into my arms.

“Hey baby bro, missed me?” I laugh. He’s latched onto me like a baby koala like he’s done since we were little.

“What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t coming back until next year.” Colby mumbles, squeezing me tighter.

“Surprise? You’re stuck with me for a whole five months though.” Colby finally climbs down and I can see tears in his eyes. I know I’ve been here for a few hours and I spent the last few minutes watching my brother bump into every piece of furniture in his room, but after getting to hold him in my arms after all this time, I couldn’t help but let a few tears fall.

“Alright, now that both of the Brock siblings are in tears, I think it’s time to end the video here,” Sam says as he enters the room with a camera.

“Wait, so the hide and seek was bullshit?” Colby asks as he wipes his face.

“I’m honestly concerned about your brain. I knew I dropped you, but I didn’t think it would do lasting damage.” I joke, ruffling Colby’s hair.

I’m just glad to be home with my people. I get to mess around with everyone for the next five months, and that’s all I could have asked for.

#trap house #traphouse #trap house imagine #trap house imagines #traphouse imagine #traphouse imagines #imagine #imagines #sam and colby #sam golbach #colby brock #sam golbach imagine #sam golbach imagines #colby brock imagine #colby brock imagines

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ohthewhomanity · 3 years

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Okay so I was listening to @amorespatospodcast talk about “The First Adventure,” and they were talking about how interesting it is that Beakley was the director of SHUSH when it dissolved, and how double-interesting it is that Beakley recommended Bradford to Scrooge when she knew that there was a mole in the agency, and they also mentioned the feather from “The Split Sword of Swanstantine” a few times…

…and this theory popped into my head, and it’s so darn wacky, I don’t really expect this to be true at all, but still… what if…?

Ducktales spoilers below the cut… haha just kidding… unless…?

On the podcast, Anna and Fabi theorized that the feather that Heron nabbed in “Swanstantine” is Scrooge’s feather, and that it could be used to clone Scrooge and create a “rightful heir of McDuck” that would allow FOWL to find the Papyrus. I like the sound of this, especially since we know that super-fast cloning IS possible in Ducktales, what with all the Gyro clones. Bradford has shown that with the help of agents like Gandra Dee, he is able to use/hijack Gyro and Fenton’s technology. FOWL wouldn’t have to wait years and years to grow an heir; they can just do it with the tech they stole. All they needed was a DNA sample: Scrooge’s feather.

But why do they need the feather now? Why didn’t they take one years ago, in all those decades of Bradford running Scrooge’s business? Bradford has clearly been calmly and quietly planning his moves for years. Why wait until Scrooge is onto him to put this plan in motion?

My answer: he didn’t wait. FOWL did take a DNA sample from Scrooge years ago. This is the second time that Bradford has tried to create a “rightful heir of McDuck.” And the first time? He succeeded!

Beakley was working with Bradford in the time of “First Adventure.” Absolutely she was. She’s the best spy in the world and she doesn’t trust anyone, so there’s nothing that Bradford could’ve said to her to make her trust him, unless she knew what he was all about. And Beakley, at some point while she was an agent of SHUSH, figured out what Bradford and FOWL were up to, and was swayed to Bradford’s side.

Beakley is not an agent of chaos. She does not encourage Scrooge to go on reckless adventures. She was happy to be his housekeeper while he was depressed for ten years, and she wasn’t exactly enthusiastic about him seeking out Atlantis in the pilot. If I remember right, she says she has more than enough adventure in her life raising Webby, and while she encourages Scrooge to talk to his grandnephews, since she values family, she doesn’t tell Scrooge to take them on an adventure. In fact, Scrooge makes a point of telling the kids to not tell Beakley that they’re going, as though he knows she wouldn’t approve.

When Beakley joins the adventure gang in “Last Crash of the Sunchaser,” she is appalled to learn that Scrooge regularly puts the kids – particularly Webby – in danger. I can 100% imagine strict, meticulous, rule-abiding Beakley hearing Bradford’s pitch about controlling the world to stop terrible, chaotic things from happening anymore, and thinking, “Huh, sure, I’m on board with order!”

“But what about ‘The Case Files of Agent 22?’” you ask. “Beakley was working with Scrooge against FOWL then!”

Well, it all depends on exactly when Beakley caught onto Bradford and he gave her his pitch. It could be that the flashbacks we see in “Case Files” are before this, and Beakley is completely above-board at this point. It’s also possible that Beakley is already working with Bradford.

Think about how protocol-oriented she is in this episode. She wants to do things by the book. She hates that Scrooge is going off the rails and changing the plan. She learns to like and respect him over the course of the episode, but the way she reacts to Scrooge’s loose-cannon nature reminds me a lot of how Bradford reacts to Heron in “First Adventure.” Scrooge also encourages Beakley to lighten up in a similar way to how Heron encourages Bradford to embrace his inner villain. Order versus chaos. Control versus adventure.

Maybe Heron had gone off the rails and started acting super extra villain-ish, creating a secret island laboratory and trying to use the Gummi Berries herself instead of just collecting/destroying them like Bradford would have wanted, and so Bradford asked Beakley to reign her in, and she did so in a way that aligned with SHUSH’s agenda, too. After all, she’s a spy; she could easily have ulterior motives for her actions. Along the way, she befriends Scrooge. And if Scrooge trusts and likes Beakley, this helps FOWL. It means that when Bradford finally decides to take a more active role in taking over the world, Beakley can tell Scrooge to let Bradford control his business.

So. We’ve got Bradford trying to take over the world, and we’ve got Beakley – the director of SHUSH – secretly working with him. And now Bradford has access to Scrooge’s finances and technologies. And, Bradford still wants the Papyrus. Maybe he’s going to just keep it. Maybe he just wants to make sure that the McDuck family doesn’t get it. Maybe he’s going to use it to get what he wants – total control of a completely orderly, boring world. The important thing is, to find the Papyrus, Bradford needs a McDuck heir.

Hence the cloning. Bradford gets close enough to Scrooge to get a feather, or some more significant DNA sample. But that’s not all he needs. Anna and Fabi pointed out that a clone wouldn’t necessarily be an “heir.” It would just be a copy. Bradford would need someone else’s DNA to combine with it.

Now, whose DNA would Bradford use? Who would he want to take a sample from? Who does Bradford have on hand who knows what he’s planning and isn’t a total villainous loose cannon?

Answer: Beakley.

It takes a long time. They don’t have Gyro to mooch off of; he’s in Japan, and even when Scrooge does hire him, he hasn’t developed his own cloning technology yet. So when they do finally create the clone, it’s a baby. They’re going to have to wait for it to grow up and be able to find the Papyrus for them.

Meanwhile, Scrooge doesn’t notice any of this, because he’s having a grand old time roaming the world with Donald and Della, creating plenty of chaos for Bradford to hate.

And then – the Spear of Selene. Della vanishes. Donald takes the eggs and leaves. Scrooge is grief-struck.

And so, I think, is Beakley.

I think Beakley has grown attached to the clone-baby, much more than she expected to, and much more than Bradford or anyone else in FOWL has. And I think Beakley, seeing her friend so affected by the loss of his family, suddenly started thinking about how terrible she would feel if something were to happen to this baby. And with Bradford in control, with Bradford who clearly doesn’t understand the power or importance of family using this baby as a tool in his plans, something terrible is bound to happen to this baby.

So she, like Donald, took the baby and ran.

Maybe she struck a deal with Bradford. Maybe she said, “Look, Scrooge isn’t going on any adventures anymore. You don’t have to worry about him creating chaos. Just keep on controlling the world using the money of the richest duck in the world, and you’ll have what you want. As the director of SHUSH, I’ll tell everyone that FOWL was defeated, and dissolve SHUSH so no one will look into your work anymore. I’ll even go keep an eye on Scrooge, and I’ll let you know if he does start adventuring again. Just let me keep the baby.”

And Bradford said yes.

And Beakley told the baby that she was her grandmother.

And Beakley spent the next decade telling her granddaughter not to bother Scrooge. Remember that that is the reason Webby gives in “Case Files” when Scrooge asks why they haven’t gone on adventures together before – Beakley told her not to bother Scrooge. Beakley didn’t want Scrooge adventuring, and she didn’t want Webby in danger.

Fast forward to “Moonvasion.” Bradford has been content this long to quietly control the world, since Scrooge hasn’t been running around causing chaos. But now, the McDuck family has caused an alien invasion of Earth. And like Bradford says, you can’t control the world if the world is destroyed.

So he goes back to his original plan. Collect the magical artifacts that the McDucks and related villains might use to cause chaos. And, importantly, find the Papyrus, the most dangerous of them all.

But, again, he needs the rightful heir of McDuck. There’s a couple potential heirs running around to choose from, but again, there’s only one person who Scrooge McDuck trusts that Bradford has reason to think he could control.

So Bradford contacts Beakley and tells her to bring Webby to him. And we know – Frank Angones has confirmed this – that Beakley would do anything to protect Webby. To protect her physically, and also, as we learned in “Lost Harp of Mervana,” to protect Webby’s perception of Beakley as a good person. The last thing Beakley wants to do now is expose Webby to FOWL and let her discover the truth.

Beakley would do anything to protect Webby. So she agrees to help Bradford create a new clone. She’s a true double agent, actively and sincerely working with both sides. In “Escape from the Impossibin,” she is both serving as a part of the distraction to keep the family from noticing the theft of the missing mysteries until it’s too late (which puts Scrooge in a hurry, sending him out into the field in “Swanstantine,” giving Heron the chance to grab the feather), and she’s also trying to prepare Webby for the very real possibility of having to fight her own family, Beakley included.

Only the best spy in the world – which Beakley is! – could pull something like this off. The thought of losing Webby (both physically and emotionally – if Webby finds out that Beakley betrayed Scrooge, Beakley could lose Webby forever) scares and upsets Beakley enough for her to betray everyone else she cares about, and even sell out the entire world to Bradford.

TL;DR, Beakley is the mole, she initially joined FOWL because she likes order but now is working with them to protect Webby, Webby is a potential rightful heir of Scrooge McDuck, and FOWL is cloning a new heir.

…and now, after rereading this whole thing for typos, I actually kind of buy my own cracky theory. Wow.

And now I’m imagining a future callback to “Last Crash,” when Scrooge told Webby that she wasn’t family, with Beakley standing right there to hear it, which he still to this day has not apologized for. What if Beakley, desperate not to lose her granddaughter, used that painful memory to try to convince Webby that betraying Scrooge to protect her was the right thing to do?

#ducktales #webby vanderquack #scrooge mcduck #ducktales 2017 #dt 2017 #ducktales theory #bentina beakley #bradford buzzard #ducktales spoilers #ducktales season 3 #the split sword of swanstantine #the first adventure #the last crash of the sunchaser #from the confidential case files of agent 22 #moonvasion #fowl #shush #amores patos podcast #i mean if nothing else I'll make this the backstory of AYHAPII if I don't like what canon does

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amenomiko · 3 years

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HI DARLINGGGG 😍😍😍😍😍💕💕💕💕💕💕! Thank you for the request HEWHEW I LOVE this kind of storyline 👀👀👀👀💕💕💕💕💕! Oh, FYI, I made this story into two parts! Turns out that my story is too long to the point I have to split it 🤣 @ikemen-girl

Retrieve That Smile Again (Part 1)

Pairing: IkeSen Ieyasu x MC (Reader)

Type: One Shot

Rated: Angst + Fluff

❤💛🧡❤💛🧡❤💛🧡❤💛🧡❤💛🧡❤

SLAP!!

"..Don't touch me with your filthy hands."

Frozen ice.

That is the best word, the perfect word to describe the air within the council hall right now.

His fellow warlords, even his lord, were utterly speechless with the scene in front of them. Her, in the middle of the room, staring down coldly at him, whose cheek is burning from her slap; a slap that is... No, it is an unexpected thing that caught him off guard, enough to make him lose his balance and stumble backwards from the impact.

"Enough with your contrary words; nothing but a mere facade-- there is no need to proof anything anymore, with what you have caused, with what you have made me the way I am right now."

Her grimness changed impromptu the moment she turned to Nobunaga, "Now, if you would excuse me. I would like to begin my journey to Kasugayama, Nobunaga."

She walked pass him, the bewildered Ieyasu, before Nobunaga give his approval.

......

"Ieyasu.. Are you.."

Hideyoshi stops himself, clenching his fists tightly until it turns white. "She.. Has really changed."

"Our pure, lively Chatelaine. To a cold, ruthless Princess." Mitsuhide added, shrugging to his lord, "She, someone who hesitate to end one's life, wouldn't think twice to do it now."

"...It's my fault." Ieyasu started, gritting his teeth. "For pushing her away back then."

"Indeed you are." Nobunaga scoffed, "It has damaged her so much on the inside few months back."

Really.

She was broken back then.

----

"I know I am just a nuisance to you- n-no- I AM a nuisance, even from the beginning.. But- Ieyasu, I--"

She pursed her quivering lips, hands clenching on her kimono tightly as she continued, "M-my feelings are true. This is not for the spur of the moment, just because you gave me that earrings back then, f-for my reward in practising archery of course..! A-and-"

"....Can you make it quick? I don't have all day." He huffed, rolling his eyes and look away from her, making her more flustered than ever. "I- I'm sorry..! What I'm trying to say is..!"

She can do this..! She can do this..! She chanted the spell within her thumping chest; this is the hopeless feelings that she had bloomed for him. To her, Ieyasu had done a lot for her, and love has slowly emerge to the surface, of where, it had been born just from feeling greatful towards him.

She have been in love with him, oh for how long. She even choose him over her future in her era, just to be with him. She even stayed until the end, until Nobunaga's army make an alliance with Kenshin and Shingen. So she must do this..! This is the main purpose of why she chose to stay..!

"I- I love you..! From the bottom of my heart..!"

A sniff escapes from her lips-- finally she said it..! After all this time..! She had successfully gather the last bit of her courage to--

"...Are you done?"

....Eh?

"...H-Huh?"

"...I'm asking. Are you done?"

None.

There is no single, positive expression curved on his face. Nothing but a bored look, a tired, bored look that has been forced to do something out of his willingness.

"If there's nothing else, I will leave now."

"W-wait..! Ieyasu..! What do you think of me? What is your answer?"

"Answer? What are you talking about?"

"But I just-"

"Just what?"

No.. Please. Even if he is the type to say the opposite of what he really means, this is not really the time to act that way.

"What..? An answer to your confession? What do you want it to be?"

"I didn't mean it like that, I--"

"If you expect me to say 'Thank You', or 'Yes', you are wrong. Even if we have gained an alliance, I don't have time for love right now."

"Oh- of- of course." Of course..! Just what she have been hoping? He is a warlord, of course he wanted to focus on nothing but the future just like what Nobunaga wanted. Still..

Why does it hurt so much..?

Especially when..

He is smiling gently to the Princess from neighboring country? His hand wouldn't hesitate to hold hers, to guide her in the steps of the garden, to pardon her when she accidentally fell on his chest?

Ah, of course..!

He is showing a courtesy. For the sake of Nobunaga's image. Even if.. He..

Kissed her on the cheek, rubbing it after and hold her close to him, allowing her to rest her head on his shoulder-- and--

And--

"Mmmf..!!"

"MC..!"

Hideyoshi caught her in his arms as she fall to the side. "You..! Get some medicine from Ieyasu..!"

"No."

She immediately stop the latter from doing so, shaking her head with a wry smile. "I'm good, Hideyoshi. It's just.. I'm not feeling well, that's all."

"...You are, so much."

She had... Unconsciously refuse any intake within her body ever since then. The stress has been piled up, until her body rejects to almost everything. She even force herself to eat, but then again, her fingers made its way to her throat, shoving it by force until her knuckles were injured from her own teeth, so she can push the thing that she has eaten out from her body.

It's an endless cycle, she had stop seeing people altogether as well. She had been crying, sobbing into the night; into her own world, and she would sing to herself, repeating the same words over and over again;

"Why would you bring the good memories in my life when you pushed me away like this?"

Then she will cup her face, brimming her cheeks with endless flow of tears. Again, and again,.... And... Again, and again.

Until one day,

She had stepped out from the room, her tears is no longer there, her sadness has faded away, and.. It is as if she had been born once again.

MC cut her hair, filling her days with constant training, and mastering both long and short range weapons, as well as following the lords to battlefield.

Of where,...

Her ruthless side has surfaced.

She wouldn't hesitate to kill. She wouldn't think twice to give mercy, and there is no single tears nor pity for her enemies anymore. It is up to the point she made them terrified of her, especially when she bravely pointed a sword to any of the warlord's neck.

This matter had reached to Ieyasu, and he himself were astonished to her sudden change.

There was.. A lot of misunderstanding truthfully. But it was too late.

Though,

No matter how late it is, he must do whatever he can to stop any further unnecessary killings in the future.

Hence why, when he had tried to approach her, she had treated him to how he treated her.

Yes, she had changed.

...For the worse.

-----

"A misunderstanding, you say?" She snorted. "My, who would've thought our contrary lord would lie. A bad one at that."

She said it, not even bothering to lift her head and look at him. Just like how she used to be. She.. Always has this.. Sparkles in her eyes whenever he is talking to her. Sometimes he find her staring ahead, into the clear blue sky, taking all the ample time in the world while her long hair gently blown by the soft breeze. Then, when her name is called by someone, she would immediately turned her attention to them, curving a soft smile on her lips, and eyes will see nothing but that person.

She used to be like that, especially for him, someone that she had sincerely pour her hopeless love to. She sees him as if he is her everything, he is precious, and hold everything that she have in his hands; her heart.

And yet he broke it.

Therefore right now, he must save her. From the old pain, and herself.

"I was a fool."

He finally gets her attention.

"I pushed you away.. Yes, at that time I see nothing else but to seek for strength. More power, for myself. Love was never my priority nor focus-- it's not important for me. I think that I am weak, not enough to protect someone with my abilities."

"And-- if you think that I have a special relationship with the neighboring princess, you are wrong. I was the only suitable person to act as a decoy for her back then-- she was-- here, to escape from the arranged marriage she was appointed to. Her fiancee is too old for her, and so, in order not to rouse suspicions, and to make the fiancee believe it, Lord Nobunaga had agreed and chose me to act as her lover-- that is a-"

"..Are you done?"

What..?

"I said, are you done?"

"Are you done?" That is the same line he said to her at that time.

"I--"

"Alright, finally. Now if you would excuse me."

"Wait..! MC!"

He caught her by the hand, pulling her to face him again, "I know you won't accept my apology right now, and I know you are not fully healed from what I did to you, but please..!"

"....."

"Don't kill. Don't touch those weapons again. It's not for you. Those blood that were stained on your hand is not meant for you. For you to change drastically-- because of me-- I--" He grit his teeth when the whole reasons sinks into his heart, "Please just.. Stop."

"Easier said than done."

"MC--"

"What has been done is done. There is no point to return to something that is empty like a nuisance shell to everyone around her. Well, if it isn't anyone but me." She curved a smirk, yanking her wrist away from him, "It is a path I've chosen for myself. You see, Ieyasu.."

He watched her brush her growing hair to the side. Finding himself speechless to the grim in her orbs, "I was a fool too. I chose this era, and I promise that I will even kill for you. Just to be with you. But now," A chuckle left her, "I don't need to do for the sake of being with you. I'm sick of my past that is weak and a huge weight to everyone, so I decided to kill, even. without. you."

"....." He clench his fists, swallowing the lump in his throat,

"It's for the sake of one's survival, Honey." She winked before tapping his nose and walk away.

He was left alone at the castle gate, he could only see her go, and watch her from her back. The back that represents the fragile girl, and were replaced with a back of a warrior.

"...Then so be it."

#ikemen sengoku #ikemen sengoku ieyasu tokugawa

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dreamer213 · 3 years

Text

Broken machines: Lights the dark

Chapter 2 Beautiful Night

In dark quiet room a young man sits atop his bed waiting. The room itself is opulent and pristine, a queen size bed with silk sheets, oak wood floor, a gorgeous antique armoire full of designer clothing, a full length mirror, silver trend curtains, an ornately detailed desk, bookshelf filled with materials on business, culture, and the arts and even a bath en-suite. Truly a scene ripped straight from a magazine with it’s presentation and uniform coloring. Nothing but dark blues, grays, and whites as far as the eye could see, it gives off a very chic and vintage feel but such a cold color scheme leaves little room for light to enter. With darkness of night sky peeking through the window It is as though the room itself becomes like snow, beautiful and magnificent in appearance but cold and devoid of life. The same can be said for the boy, smooth white hair set neat and tidy in a simple but elegant cut, a long and slender figure with good posture and a gorgeous face with high cheek bones, full lips, a perfect jaw line, long lashes, and beautiful deep blue eyes. But behind those beautiful eyes lays a cold and empty stare, no youthful joy or warmth to speak of, just the cold stare of empty soul. If not for his breathing and movements he could be mistaken for a porcelain doll, left in it’s display never to be moved or play with but to be held up and admired. But that is not important right now. No, what matters right now is if Weiss’s found the back doors they left open for her and made her escape yet.

It’s been a while she should be long gone by now, if she hasn’t left yet it won’t be long before Father finds her then Gods know what he’ll will do. I mean getting caught trying to escape the city after nearly killing a defenseless woman at a public event over some unkind remarks. Cleaning up this mess is going to be hell on its own but if Father finds her trying to run away He’ll-

Whitley tenses up and grips his biceps through his sleeves, there’s a dazed look in his eyes. He closes his eyes, takes some deep breath, and calms himself.

No, I can’t think like that now. I have to believe that she followed through, that she ran away pre her usually sanctimonious behavior. I mean what did she think she was going to achieve by acting like that. Did she think that was going to change their minds? Did she really think that screaming like a child and losing control of her powers was going to do anything but cause chaos. If General Ironwood hadn’t been there we all could been killed by that monster. But no, even after fighting Grimm and seeing how terrifying they are first hand, she still never once gave a thought to what the consequences of her actions would be for anyone but herself. But then again that just might be who she is now. Doesn’t matter if she to her if she’s right or wrong, if she feels attacked she’ll just lash out either physical or verbal. With all her talk of restoring our family name I never thought she would do something like this. I never thought she would go this far but then again I never thought she’d treat me like an enemy. I try my best to engage with her whenever I could and she accuses me of wanting to her get disinherited and acts like I’ve stolen her role away from her. Really? She thought I would want the life both she and Winter ran away from the first chance they could. Seriously? What do I gain from her failure, living at home with a drunk for mother, a tyrant father, and a staff of people traumatized from working with them. Having my every move monitored and commanded by a man who cares more about money than human life. The enormous amount of work that comes with preparing to take over a company of such great magnitude and whatever grunt work Father doesn’t feel like doing. OH! Let’s not forget the fact that you’ll never truly be in charge as Father will surely keep you trapped under his heel until the day he dies! A life as puppet to a man whose dragged our family name through the dirt trapped in a house colder than the coldest of blizzard. Yes Weiss, I so desperately wanted you to run away to live your dreams so I could live your nightmare.

“WHERE IS SHE!!!” “WHERE DID THAT WORTHLESS BRAT GO!”

Whitley hears his father screaming down the hall, the screaming continues for almost an hour until it’s becomes clear that Weiss has escaped. For moment everything’s quite as though the entire manor has become frozen in time. But not long after the silence there’s a crash then another and another. The commotion grows louder and louder with every passing second until the shirks of manor staff become just loud as the havoc Jacques Schnee is wreaking.

Whitley: Looks like it’s time to clean up the mess.

Whitley gets up and walks out of his room towards the commotion. As he gets closer and closer as follows his father’s path of destruction. Broken glass, fallen paintings, and décor pieces smashed and scattered across the floor the halls are in shambles. When he finally reaches his father the situation is much worse than he expected. Jacques has completely lost his composure, he’s throwing things, screaming wildly, his face is beet red and his eyes are bulging. The servants are trying their best to calm down while trying to avoid getting hit. They try and try but nothing they do seems to calms him. As this struggle continues Whitley approaches them, he quietly walks up behind them. He stands there waiting for an opportunity to grab his father’s attention.

Jacques: AFTER EVERYTHING I’VE DONE FOR THAT UNGRATEFUL BITCH SHE DARED TO DEFY ME LIKE THIS!

Whitley: Father please, you need to calm down the stress isn’t good for—

Before he can get another word out an object goes flying past Whitley’s head. It was a small antique clock a gift from a business associate. His father Jacques Schnee, who was now facing him, had thrown it within an inch of his own son’s head. Jacques stalks over towards Whitley, getting closer and closer until he is standing over his son and stares directly into his eyes.

Jacques: What did you say?

Whitley: Stay calm, stay focused, you have to see this to an end before things get worse. I said you should calm down you shouldn’t be stressing yourself over such a minor issue. It’s not good for your health.

Jacques: And do tell me Whitley, how is your sister running away a “minor issue”.

Whitley: Well she’s already been disinherited and made a public spectacle of herself, there’s no real need for her to be at the manor anymore. That and when people ask about her and how she was punished you can say she was kick out and thrown to the streets for her awful behavior. For most that were present at that party the very idea of being cut off is the stuff of nightmares, hearing that the heiress to Schnee dust fortune got herself thrown out for her reckless mistakes should help calm the ruckus Weiss created.

For a moment everyone pauses, they hold their breath waiting for the elder Schnee’s reaction. After what feels like hours Jacques puts his hand above Whitley’s head. He brings it down and begins to slow pat his son’s head.

Jacques: Good job Whitley, you always have your mind in the right place when I need you to.

Whitley: Of course Father, I’m always thinking of what’s best for the Schnee legacy.

Jacques: Good, now then get this mess cleaned up I need to go have a talk with Klein. I just know that dog had a hand in this.

Whitley: Yes Father, I’ll have the staff get this up right away.

Jacques gives an approving nod then walks away. As soon as his step can no longer be heard and he is out of earshot the servants all breathe a sigh of relief and start cleaning up. Whitley walks down the hall, searching for someone. After roughly half an hour up and down the second floor Whitley finally finds the person he’s been looking for, Mary Shellor.

Mary Shellor has been working at the Schnee Manor for several years. When she first arrived no one expected her to last very long but to their surprise she acclimated to the environment rather quickly. She was also a very diligent worker, never making a mistake more then once. And because of her skill, not long after her hiring Mary was promoted to one of the most important and most difficult positions in the manor, Willow’s personal maid. She’d become Willow’s shadow following and serving her wherever she may go unless dismissed. During her first year as Willow’ maid also sought out and obtained another role, or rather a long term investment. You see after observing the family for a time it became clear to Mary which child would inherit the family fortune. The children, Winter, Weiss, and Whitley, had been raised quite incorrectly for their natures. Like wolves raised as show dogs ,they were trained to be obedient, intelligent, and outstanding but because of their strong willed and fierce natures they could never truly be tamed. First and second born were allowed enough freedom to want for more and seek an end to their captivity even if it meant losing everything. Eventuality they were able to beard their fangs and break free of their chains. But the third born, the son, was not allowed such opportunities, No Jacques had learned from his past mistakes he wasn’t letting this one get away. Whitley was kept closer, his chains made tighter, and cage made much smaller then his predecessors. And yet Mary could still see the wolf in him, though different from his sisters it was still there. Unlike his sisters he couldn’t attack or run from his situation so the boy did the only thing he could and did it well, he played along. He played the role of Father’s loyal dog so well that even his sister believed the act without question but unbeknownst to her or their father beneath that mask Whitley’s fangs were growing strap, he was waiting. Whitley knows when he’s at a disadvantage he knows when to act and when to retreat, he knows how to play games, the game of Atlas politics, his father’s games, and the games of the business world. The day Whitley would strike would be the day everything would be returned to a true Schnee, one who knew how to survive in this world, who knew the mistakes of the past and how not to repeat them. Mary wanted to be on the right side when that day came and so she became Whitley’s eyes and ears in and outside of the manor as long as he promised to keep her in mind when the time came. That was their argument one Mary never doubted would play out in her favor.

Whitley: Mary where’s Mother?

Mary: The Mistress has retreated to the library. After the shouting started she ran inside and hid. I asked her if there was anything I could do and she dismissed me.

Whitley: Thank you Mary, stay here I’ll be back in a moment.

Mary: Yes, Young master

Whitley walks pass her towards the library, once at the doors he pulls them open only to find that the lights are off and the scent of alcohol is heavy in the air. Whitley follow the scent deeper and deeper into the library, gagging slightly the closer he gets, as he draws nearer to the source he finds a trail of wine bottles.

Whitley: They’re all empty, she’s close.

He picks up the bottles as he follows the trail until he finds a blanket covered figure sitting on the floor tucked into a corner. Whitley puts the bottles down and slowly approaches the figure, small sobs escape it as he drew closer, he kneels down in front of them with his hands on his knees. He then gently pulls the blanket off the figure to reveal his mother Willow Schnee, sobbing and trembling beneath the blanket she’s wrapped herself in.

Whitley: It’s over Mother, Father’s gone back to his office. You can go back to your room now he won’t be coming out for some time.

Whitley holds out his hand towards Willow, with a shaky hand Willow grabs onto her son. Whitley grabs onto tightly, wraps his free arm around her shoulders and pulls her up. He steadies her as she gets on her feet, and guides her through the darkness and into the hallway. Once they’re out out of the library he hands Willow off to Mary.

Whitley: Take her back to her room she can barely walk, make sure to leave a bucket by her bed. And don’t let her have anything else tonight she has too much in her system already. She’s also left a good amount of empties on floor again, have someone clean those up before Father’s next reading hour.

Mary: Of course Young Master, we’ll have everything clean and in order before Master Jacques get up for breakfast.

Whitley:Thank you Mary , that will be all for tonight.

This was why Mary chose to put her faith in the boy, for as cold and defensive as Whitley was he was also incredibly loyal. Whenever the Master flew off the handle the Young Master would do everything in his power to calm him down and keep him calm for as long as possible. At first Mary thought this was more his loyal dog act but after a few more incidents it was clear what he was doing. Whitley would never sacrifice another’s safety for his own. His true purpose for playing the Master’s game was not to obtain power but peace and freedom from the chains that bind this manor and the people in it.

With that Mary and Willow depart towards Willow’s bedroom while Whitley retreats his own. Once there he closes the door behind himself and pressing his back against the door. He takes a deep breath then slumps down the door, gets into the fetal position and starts to sob. He cries and weeps for a long, long time, until his face is red and his voice horse. Once he finally he stops Whitley gets up and goes to his ensuite to clean himself up. After a long bath he puts on his sleepwear and lays down on his bed, he stares up at the ceiling until he finally succumbs to his own exhaustion and falls into a dreamless sleep.

#whitley schnee #broken machines #rwby #rwby fanfiction #fanfic #Someone hold this baby #sad #fanfiction

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