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peachy-rambles · 3 years

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"Wait, you're married?!"

It's a common question Techno has gotten used to over the years when people spot the intricate golden metal armlet on his upper arm (clearly too delicate and beautiful for a monster like him), which he'll explain that in his husband's culture, it signifies that Techno is married and taken.

To which after people find out that Techno is married and who he's married to, they'll usually follow up with another question.

"Why?"

And what was Techno supposed to say to a question like that?

"Because I love him," is what he'd tell people at first, confused as to why they would ask such a thing.

But no one ever seemed satisfied with that answer, questioning further if he and Phil simply got married for benefits or because it was convenient or if it was just one big joke between them, and if Phil was really in a relationship with someone else because why would he be married to Techno of all people?

So Techno stopped telling people and started wearing longer sleeved shirts, hiding the golden armlet (refusing to take it off because it was too precious to him, even if it caused unwanted questions). If asked about it, he'd say it was a gift and leave it at that.

When the Butcher Army comes for him and forces him to give them everything he has, including his armor, they try to take the armlet as well (previously hidden but now visible due to his shirt being torn during his fight with them).

"No," Techno growls, "You can take everything else, but you're not taking this away from me!"

"Just give it up, Techno! What does it matter?" Quackity shouts.

Techno wants to yell back, say that it does matter, that it's everything to him and represents the love he has for Phil.

But he can't say any of those things, in fear that they'd hurt the person he loves and try to use Phil against him.

"Wait!" Fundy exclaims, "Phil wears a piece of jewelry exactly like that! It means he's married to someone!"

Techno's eyes widen and he expects the worst, for them to connect the dots, and figure out that it isn't just a coincidence that he and Phil both wear the same piece of jewelry. That they loved each other so deeply, had married each other years ago and bonded for life because they couldn't imagine being without the other.

But he really shouldn't have expected anything different by now.

"Married? Why would anyone marry Technoblade?! It's probably just some loot he stole from someone else," Quackity dismisses quickly, "Take it from him!"

Techno has nothing else to say, no argument or witty remark, and takes the armlet off, handing it to Ranboo (who at least seems to handle it gently, putting it away with care).

He knows he should be glad that they didn't figure it out, relieved that Phil is safe for now and their true relationship is still hidden. That it can't be used against either of them.

So why does he feel so heartbroken?

In the end, he escapes from his failed execution and eventually is given the armlet back, courtesy of Ranboo when he returns Techno's armor.

"I tried to take care of it and keep it safe. It seemed important," Ranboo says, handing it back.

"It is," Techno simply says and puts the armlet back into place on his upper arm, the familiar weight of it comforting him.

Phil finally escapes from house arrest soon after, running into Techno's waiting arms, finally back where he belongs - finally back home.

Yet despite all that, Techno still feels...out of sorts.

"Phil, do you love me?" he asks later that night, while they're sitting together on the couch, Phil in his lap and leaning his back against Techno's chest, resting quietly after an intense day.

"That's a silly question, of course I do," Phil replies back with a small smile.

"Do you...do you know that I love you?"

Phil's eyes snap open at the question, and turns around in his husband's lap, to see Techno silently crying, tears running down his face.

"Of course I know you love me," Phil reassures him, placing his hands on either side of Techno's face and carefully wiping his tears away. "You're the only person in my life who has ever truly loved me for who I am."

"If that's true, then why...why does everyone think I'm incapable of love? Am I really that horrible that they can't believe that I could love someone? Love you? Or that...you don't love me? I just...I don't understand, Phil," Techno admits in a quiet voice, more tears escaping from his eyes.

"Oh, Tech," Phil looks at him with concern, "What happened?"

So Techno tells him about all the times over the years he's been asked about the armlet, how they'd question if his marriage to Phil was genuine or real, insisting that surely they didn't get married because they loved each other. He tells Phil about the incident with the Butcher Army and how they took everything, including the armlet. How they had dismissed the possibility of Techno being married so easily.

Phil listens throughout it all, holding Techno close and letting him cry, allowing him to finally release all the things he'd been keeping to himself for years.

By the end of Techno's explanation, Phil is furious. Not at Techno, no, never. But at the people who had made Techno question his feelings and the love he felt, who had hurt him and tried to kill him.

"Techno, listen to me," Phil says, "I love you and I know you love me. We're married, we're bonded and no matter what anyone else thinks or says, nothing is going to change that. People see us, two men in a relationship, two completely different species, and will assume the worst. But it doesn't matter what they think. It's not their relationship, it's ours. Only our feelings matter. I love you so much and I consider myself lucky to be married to someone as amazing as you."

"I love you, too, more than anything," Techno says, and while the damage of other people's words haven't been completely undone, he felt much lighter than he had before now that Phil knew.

"We'll make them pay, I promise," Phil swears before placing a gentle kiss on Techno forehead.

He follows through with his promise on Doomsday as he aids Techno and Dream in the destruction of Lmanberg.

Later, while tnt rains from the sky and Withers fly around causing chaos, as they stand on top of the obsidian grid and are in full view of everyone, Phil pulls Techno down into a deep kiss. Showing everyone, just exactly what the nature of their relationship is and making sure no one ever questions it again.

#techza #technophil #i make phil cry a lot now it's techno's turn :)#i think even if he was aro it'd still hurt to constantly be questioned about why you're married to someone you love #like shut up its none of your business let them be!!#this ended up longer than expected whoops #peachy wrote a thing

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shoezuki · 3 years

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Tommy's prison/revival arc isnt well written actually

Anyways ive been wanting to talk on it a while for a bit here but havent had the Time or like. The thought to. But im gonna go off now.

First off im gonna say im ASSUMING this stream and plot of tommy being in the prison with dream is written entirely by tommy and dream. Wilbur May be involved in the latest stream but im not sure.

Bringing tommy back to life after only three days of him being dead did practically nothing to progress plot, the characters, or audience's understanding. In fact i feel that it damaged Other characters' potential and plot and already established plotlines.

The 'development' aspect

A really, really easy way to see if anything has changed or developed through an arc or plotline is to straightup just compare the 'beginning' to the 'end' in terms of the barebones situation. So;

Beginning: tommy is trapped in an isolated prison cell with dream, his own abuser who has hurt him in the past, for an unknown amount of time. He's terrified of dream and being stuck there with him.

End: tommy is trapped in an isolated prison cell with dream after being killed then revived by him, his own abuser whos hurt him in the past, for an unknown amount of time. Hes terrified of dream and being stuck there with him.

Okay. This is simplified obvious. But the point stands. ALTHOUGH the troupe of 'going back to the beginning' is common in the heroes journey its. It doesnt work here. Has tommy learned anything? Has he changed as a character? Is the severity of their situation any different? Have we, as the audience, learned anything new?

Im going to expand on that last point because i think it has the strongest potential argument. Technically for progression in literature and development of plot/characters, things can Change without them being Aware as characters. It can change just by the audience's perception changing or being challenge.

Slight example: i've been reading a webcomic called Your Throne. Its a fantasy/political drama about a noble lady who entered a competition with another noble lady to become the empress. The main lady lost despite her being a better fit, and the comic starts with the main lady trying to assassinate the empress. Its assumed and stated by the main lady that she 'ruined her life' and so thats all the readers know. However, later in the novel we see flashbacks to the competition itself and find that the two ladies were extremely close friends, neither wanting anything bad for the other, but it was the emperor himself who manipulated both of them for his own agenda. Those flashbacks gave us an entirely different idea of who the real antagonist is and completely changed the two main ladies' relationship. THAT is how the audience's understanding of the plot and novel can be used to change the entire story. We dont get such here though

Some things that were brought to light during tommy being dead/revived:

Dream is capable of reviving people infinitely

This was already implicated and assumed. The book dream has being a means of reviving people has been around Technically since schlatt's death. This just 'confirmed' what was known

Time works differently/feels longer in the afterlife

This doesnt really impact much beyond emotions and implications. If we had more insight into what the 'afterlife' is like beyond nothingness perhaps so. But really it just makes it so wilbur being dead for what feels like 9 years and tommy having been dead for 2 months appeal to emotions.

Wilbur is evil

This one fuckin sucks i cant lie HSKSHSISSGEGDV. Like i was gon go on bout it and i will but it jus sucks. We have nothing to go on besides tommy's word, no examlles of what Horrible things wilbur said could make tommy assume this, etcetc. Ill most likely make a seperate post on how this feels like we're just going to get 'wilbur is a horrible villain' type with him. But still. I feel wilbur Not Being Good isnt a new development.

Dream is going to revive wilbur

This doesnt feel new either, part because phil had wanted to revive wilbur before (ill get to that more later) and that tommy had kept dream alive/initially imprisoned him with the idea of him reviving wilbur.

Dream believes wilbur will break him out of prison

Okau this makes no sense to me actually. I cwnt understand How exactly wilbur would be able to do this? Or why dream believes he even Could? Mans been dead for like 9 years and all we Know of the afterlife is that its black... nothingness. How would 9 years of that make wilbur capable of busting the prison open?

So. Yeah. All in all this plotline hasnt done anything new, developed things, or altered people's perceptions. We just ended up back at square one. Back to tommy being traumatized, dream being 'evil' and horrible and doing villain monologues, and them being stuck together.

Other characters and plotlines

Im pretty damn sure tommy's revival fucked up a LOT of other characters' plotlines and potential development. Honestly i feel this has a lot to do with the writers not communicating with other ccs well enough. But Ill talk about specific characters from least to most fucked over in my opinion:

Sam

He's the best off. He hqd been there during tommy's death, had been close to tommy, had majorly blamed himself and his own mistakes for tommy's death. His grief and self hatred was actually really heartbreaking and well done. The attached character of Sam Nook being unaware of tommy's death and simply waiting for tommy to return was a really good parallel to sam's own grief and anger. like it really snapped sam the guy who cares for tommy and wants to do Right by him back together with him as the Warden of the prison. Mixed personal life with 'just business'.

I feel it wouldve been nice to have him like. Have more time to grieve properly and come to terms eith tommy's death and his own involvement/influence over the events. Him finding tommy alive again Could be a means of him like. Facing his own grief head on if done well.

Ranboo

Mostly in the context of him and sam's argument do i feel it got screwed over. The weight of them yelling at each other and trying to find who to blame and the implications that Maybe ranboo was the one who caused the security breach that closed down the prison on tommy just.... doesnt hit so hard anymore. Because how can there be blame and arguments and a 'who done it' mystery when tommy popped up all fine again?

Puffy

I dony know much of her involvement or how she found out tommy died (besides metagaming shhhhh) but i saw her monologuing of how they 'failed' tommy and like. Her whole 'he was so young we the Adults failed him' spiel is like........... inconsequential? Now??? Like no dont worry he died but hes alright now.

Philza

BET YOU DIDNY EXPECT TO SEE THIS FUCKER!!!!!! But actually though i want to talk bout how this ties into phil. A LOT. for Zalbr ❤. But also because i see ppl tying phil to tommy's death n like nah shutup u doin it wrong. Ill go off more in a Wilbur Post. But essentially: i dont like that dream is now going to revive wilbur. I feel they arent going to tie philza into this Despite phil having originally been trying to revive his son and studying on it and Attempting and Failing. But now suddenly dream can just. Say some magic words and Poof wilbur lives? So we're just going to Kill philza's revival attempts plotline and leave that hanging? This made his efforts seem pointless and Wack like oh why didnt you just Say The Magic Words phil????

Niki

I feel really bad for niki. She hasnt been able to do a lore stream during tommy's 'death' (she tweeted she wanted to but her computer wasnt working) and considering her entire character.... that shit is important. We seen it with Jack Manifold how tommy's death impacted Him considering he literally wanted tommy dead. And since niki is in a similar boat to jack of trying to kill tommy and it being her Only goal...... thats extremely important.

BUT. i feel there wasnt any communication. Did she or anyone even know tommy would be revived? Did no one consider they could At Least let her do a single stream on it? Like jack manifold????

We couldve gotten a Really good niki lore stream. I genuinely was so excited for it and i dont regularly watch her. But we seen it with jack manifold which is why i dont feel he got screwed because mans genuinely did So Good he could pop off with anything n i think it works in His favour. But now........ for niki. Canonically she never even knew tommy was Dead. So its like nothing even happened for her. Is she just supposed to continue on trying to kill tommy with no progression?

What i think would work

This is more me being like 'hey @ the dsmp writers let me in' type speculation sbosegussgs. But i was thinkin on a Really easy way to 'fix' this without rewriting lore and the streams.

Dream should kill tommy again now that he's been revived and Leave Him Dead.

More development for the characters who are affected by his death Especially niki. More time for grief and self reflection and development

A chance for the audience to figure out what the 'afterlife' really is.

Dream is supposed to be smart and a master manipulator or something right? Why doesnt he use being able to revive tommy as a bargaining chip with sam for his own freedom?

The audience would now Know dream's intentions with tommy better, that this death isnt 'final', but we could still see other characters' grief and reactions and coping without it feeling cheap. Ive seen some 'but people dont know tommy is alive so hes still dead in their mind' but that sucks imo.

We'd know more on dream's ability to revive people and that he can just Do It on a whim (which i think sucks but hey im trying) but no one else would know this canonically

Okay. Im done. If you read this. Thankyou. I love you. Hmu.

#mcyt #dream smp #dream smp critical #tommyinnit #dream #im puttin this in main tags took me too fuckin long to write for me Not to #death mention #ask to tag

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slasherscream · 4 years

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You don't have to if you feel uncomfortable but may I have a request where JD, Hannibal, Billy and Candyman react when they found out the woman they love who always cares and smiles for others, just a ball of sunshine coming from a dysfunctional broken home. Even when they find her with a black eye due to an argument, she still smiles and ensures she's fine

Jason Dean

JD never saw it coming. He figured you came from some perfect, little suburban dream family. A loving Mother, a doting Father he didn’t know what else could produce someone like you but a stable home life.

He had a childhood that was less than ideal, putting it lightly, and you two shared almost nothing in common. Where he was pessimistic you were looking on the bright side. When he pointed out the nastiness in others you’d somehow find a way to make him see the good in the people around you two as well.

Though sometimes he thought you were a little naive it endeared him to you more than you could know. No matter what he did you’d come back swinging with that positive, happy-go-lucky outlook and it was beginning to rub off on him, just a little.

He smiled more when you were around. Everything felt more worthwhile. That was, of course, when the illusion went tumbling down.

He crawled through your window ready to see you and surprise you as he’d gotten your address from one of your many friends at school.

He climbed through the window he guessed was yours only to find you curled up on your bed, clutching your pillow and trying to block out the sounds of loud fighting going on downstairs.

Multiple voices screaming back and forth, you flinching at every sound bleeding through your door. But that wasn’t the worst of it. The worst was when he made a noise finishing coming through and you turned to look at him, startled.

Your eye was swollen and already beginning to discolor but immediately upon seeing the expression on his face (rage and heartbreak mixing together) you raced to him trying to reassure him you were fine.

He asked who touched you but you just kept reassuring him that everything was fine. You hugged him close and tried to soothe his nerves, all the while, the fighting downstairs got louder.

You can say it’s fine all you want but JD will never forget and he’ll get his answer eventually. He’ll punish your family for hurting you all these years when there was no one around to protect you. You were everything that was good about the world, and if he had to burn it to ash to see you safe and happy the way you deserved to be? He’d do it in a heartbeat.

Hannibal Lecter

Hannibal is probably the closest to seeing something off right from the start of things.

It’s not that you aren’t convincing, or even that you’re faking your joy and general love for the world around you. He hates people that aren’t genuine and he can sniff them out easily.

It’s just that sometimes there is a sadness to you that he is always trying to trace back to something. You are a puzzle that he is trying to solve and somewhere along the line he falls in love with you.

He notices how you dance around the topic of family, keeping your comments vague and going a bit quiet whenever he brings up wanting to meet the people who’d raised such a wonderful, young woman.

For some reason his mind does not jump straight to abuse. There are plenty of strained parental relationships that are not out right abusive and outside of those tiny moments where you seem to break a little at the seams you’re so bright.

Love is blind, he’d thought the expression only true for others, he hadn’t ever imagined himself being in love in the first place. He couldn’t have imagined his own assumptions towards you blinding him to the obvious.

When you show up to a lunch date with him wearing sunglasses he tries to spend the meal ignoring them but finally asks, for the sake of manners, for you to remove them as you are at the table. He’d never known you to be rude.

Slowly you take them off and the world goes still. Your face is pointed downwards towards the table but it doesn’t stop him from being able to see your eye. He rushes from his side of the table to cup your face and everything clinks into place immediately.

“Who did this to you, dearest?” his voice is devoid of judgement, calm the way he is during his sessions. But inside he’s engulfed with rage.

“My (family member) didn’t mean to. Our fights just get so bad and I’m always making them so angry-” He pushes your head into his chest, stopping your onslaught of excuses for a person who wouldn’t be in the land of the living very much longer. There was no need for you to think of them anymore.

Billy Loomis

What draws him to you is how good you are. At first it annoys him because he thinks you’re faking it. No one could possibly be as sweet and kind as you’re pretending to be.

He can stand few things less than he can stand a fake and at first, frankly, his interest in you is finding out everything he can about you so he can kill you and mentally torture you while he does it.

It’s while he’s learning everything he can about you and stalking you that he starts to fall in love with you, little by little. Stu keeps asking him when they’re going to off you and he keeps answering ‘not yet’ every time. Eventually Stu stops asking and starts to focus on the next victim.

Billy doesn’t lose focus. He can’t think of anything but you. He starts stalking you more and more, the need to see you and hear you only worsening by the minute.

Eventually he gets sloppy and slips up and you see him. You’re walking alone at night for some reason in a town with an active serial killer but you look like there’s no other place you’d rather be. He wonders why you don’t go home but just barely, he’s grateful you’re usually so easy to keep track of.

When you spot him you recognize him from school and call out to him. He’s got no choice but to approach you casually, pretending he’s also out for a late night walk. “We should walk together to be safe!” Before he knows it you’re looping your arm through his and walking together.

You stay out nearly the whole night together and he asks you out the very next day. It’s not long before he’s calling you his girlfriend and stalking you less. You spend so much time with him he’s actually pretty secure in the relationship and what you mean to each other. Sometimes he’ll do it just to check up on you but it becomes a rarity.

One night he follows you home, just to make sure you get there without incident, and he starts hearing strange loud noises from inside the house. He sneaks into your bedroom window just to make sure you’re okay. You run in crying right as he’s making his way to the door, clutching the side of your face protectively.

He’s on you in a second, locking the door and prying your hands away. You don’t have time to ask him what he’s doing there before he sees the early signs of your eye bruising and falls into shell-shocked silence.

With more gentleness than you knew he was capable of he kissed your head, got out a bag, and began to pack away some of your things. You watch him quietly, trying to convince him it’s okay but he silences you with one intense look that he disappears quickly, replaced by the saddest eyes you’ve ever seen. “I’m gonna take care of you, okay?” He crosses the room, cupping your face gently, thumb grazing the skin beneath your bruised eye.

Once he’s done packing he guides you carefully out the window and into his car. He’s going to take you to Stu’s where he intends to share their big secret. Then he and Stu are going to make a night out of killing your family.

Candyman

He is a spirit, roaming and untethered, when he sees you and is first struck dumb by your beauty. He never thought he’d love again but the minute he sets eyes on you he knows he can grow to love you. That he could cherish you for the rest of your natural life and beyond.

He wants you. Needs you. He begins to visit you in dreams. Never nightmares. In your dreams he is a princely figure that loves you already, that has loved you more than anyone in your entire life.

You’ve never slept better than in the months where he woos you, and makes you fall in love with him, this phantom created by your own mind.

Part of you thinks you’re going crazy. How could you be falling in love with a man that isn’t real? But you’re a romantic and can’t deny the pull you feel within yourself. They may be only dreams but they make you happy. Daniel, makes you happy.

You don’t have to wonder for long if you’re losing your mind because he whispers to you in a dream that he can be real. Real as flesh and blood if you say a name three times in a mirror. Candyman.

You wake up the next morning feeling silly but can’t help doing it. Part of you desperately hoping that your escape from your real life could become your real life, if there was really some magic in the world.

It works of course and the minute you feel his arms around you, you start to cry tears of joy. But you’d forgotten about the fight you had with your family the night before. In your dreams you are always perfect and beautiful, your skin unmarred by the abuse you endure every day. But now, away from your dreams, Robert can see that someone has dared to harm you. His love. His darling.

He doesn’t need you to tell him who’s done this. One look at you and he seems to know. He knows you better than anyone else.

His hand, the human one, the one that isn’t for killing or hurting, touches gently your damaged skin. He presses a kiss to your forehead.

He has been summoned and there’s a price of blood to be paid.

#hannibal lecter x reader #jd x reader #billy loomis x reader #candyman x reader #slasher x reader #LOVED THIS SPICY PROMPT #revenge upon your family nonny!!!#Anonymous

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mercy-thompson-fanfiction · 3 years

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Outttake 2

Because some of these were genuine outtakes, I think I just never posted them. They didn’t fall perfectly into my canon. This one did, but I couldn’t find it when I looked.

----

“Don’t tempt her.” Mercy warned her son of his sister. Roy and Porsche had just gotten into an argument in front of the entire pack. As siblings, they didn’t genuinely fight much. The age gap between them was enough to make Roy just a nuisance, not someone worth his sister’s time in arguing.

They were adults now, Porsche was nearing thirty herself.

“This has been coming.” Adam held out his hand to stop his mate from stepping between the two. “For a long time.”

Porsche was impulsive, but since her late teens had been fairly settled in her pack rank. Her younger brother, on the other hand, was pushy.

“I don’t want to fight with you,” She sounded tired when she eyed her brother warily. Royce raised an eyebrow at her, looking more like their father than he ever had. “Fine, let’s take this away from prying eyes.”

“I’d really like to avoid staining the living room carpet again.” Mercy agreed nervously, watching Porsche leave the room. She had a foot on the stairs before her brother called out to her.

“Where are you going?”

“To change.” Porsche glanced at her mother, “You have a pair of my leggings and a bra in your dresser still?” Mercy nodded, but she was already well on her way into her parents’ bedroom. They kept more generic stuff in the basement, but Porsche habitually left some of her clothes at her old family home. She hated sweats that were too big.

“You have to change?” Roy was still a kid, she reminded herself of that patiently.

“I don’t want to get blood on my t-shirt.” She said calmly, she already had the leggings on. She was finding her way into her bra. Ben waited in the living room as well, trying to hide his nerves. Porsche had chosen her rank, she didn’t want to take Warren’s place. She was a lover not a fighter, when it came down to it.

People had finally learned to appreciate her for it.

“Do I really have to do this?” She asked Roy, crossing her arms across her chest. She was on the third stair from the bottom, taller than him there. “You know Dad didn’t train me, right?”

Ben glanced at Adam, worried for a moment that she would be hurt. It took him a moment to remember that she had won last time…

And that she wasn’t trained by Adam because she had been trained by Charles Cornick.

Roy nodded tersely and she returned her brother’s grim expression.

“Outside?”

“Dojo.” Her brother countered and she sighed. She liked having real ground under her, the padding in the garage was uncomfortable. She would fare fine on it, everyone used it anyhow, she just felt it was unbalanced and the room itself was tight and overly confined.

“Fine.” It was the equivalent of a “your turf or mine” game, but Ben had a feeling she’d do well on either. Porsche had a million-and-one complexes but Roy’s was just inferiority to his sister.

It was about to be ten times worse.

It was easier to control damage as a human, which is why being human was the best way to fight anyone for pack rank. Less issues, blood lust a little more controllable.

Adam reminded both of them gently that they could back out, but it only served to make Roy more agitated.

“Roy,” Porsche muttered, having to consciously remember not to make him stop so she could look at his injury. It’d taken her two minutes to draw blood. “Please, stop.”

Mercy inhaled sharply when her daughter dodged a fist. She was low enough to catch her brother behind the leg and twist her own around when he fell. If she’d stepped down on it in the process just hard enough, she may have been able to break it. She backed up and let him stand. Her eyes flashed dangerously.

“You’re going easy on me.” He accused.

“I could have broken your leg.” She growled out.

Roy moved faster than she expected when he caught her arm and twisted it. He quickly let go and stepped back.

“I can return the favour.” Gold eyes didn’t suit his pale face in the slightest. Porsche’s upper lip twitched.

There was no terribly wonderful outcome from this, even only five minutes in. Someone was going to lose and they wouldn’t be happy, regardless of who it was.

#mercy thompson fanfiction

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lihikainanea · 4 years

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No hate because I don't mean to offend it's just I've always been told otherwise and I'd like your input. Genuinely, how do you fight against a grown man that's twice your size when you're so small??? Like could you throw Bill around for example? I just don't understand how that works. I've always been told that no matter how strong a woman is, if a man twice her size takes her on she'll lose. And that martial arts won't win against a guy who street fights and you need to defend yourself.

No offence taken, bubs. I get this question a lot, and I’m always happy to explain these things to people who ask out of genuine curiosity. For people who ask out of arrogance (ie: usually dudes), I tend to prefer a more demonstrative approach.

There are a few things that make this whole “martial arts is useless against people bigger and stronger than you” thing a total misconception, so let’s outline some of them.

1) Martial arts is never about strength or force. Well, not your own anyway. The concept of martial arts was created with one very, very obvious thing in mind: That you will usually get attacked by someone bigger and stronger than you. I can’t speak for all martial arts, but as a kyokushinkai, I can tell you how we train and what we believe. Martial arts is not about your strength, or your force--but rather, it is about using your opponent’s strength and force against them. Have you ever thrown a punch at the air? I’m talking a real punch, one with your whole body weight--ever throw a haymaker like that at absolutely nothing? Let me tell you what happens: you go flying. More specifically, you pitch forward at the waist, you lean your upper body forward, you step into it as you try to regain your balance--and then your body’s natural inclination to counter that weight kicks in, and you lean back to try and regain your centre.

Now, imagine that as you throw that punch, the person in front of you just hooks a hand behind your shoulder and guides you even more into the direction you were already catapulting yourself in. Then imagine as your body is pitching forward from your own force, all of that forward momentum driving into one sole place--imagine the person in front of you just raises a knee, sinks it into your gut. All of this--every modicum of it--is your own force. Not theirs.

Additionally, there are also spots on the body where you can cause maximum damage with minimum efforts--these are called pressure points, most people don’t have more than a basic understanding of them, and they are a bitch. There are a lot of them in a lot of easy to reach places, and none of them require much more than a tap. Take your fingers--your index and your middle finger--and put them on the spot under your earlobe, right where your jaw connects to your skull. Push down there--that’s pretty sensitive, right? Now look at your hand, where your thumb connects to your wrist. Tuck your thumb into your palm.

If you tap someone on either side where their jaw connects, with that bony part of your hand--and you have a solid 5cm of space here, so you can miss and still be fine--you will knock them out. Every single time.

How this is applicable to the argument: People tend to think of fighting as a Rock’Em Sock’Em game. You stand in front and you punch each other. If that’s how fighting worked, then punch for punch--yeah, a dude who is 6′4 and 240lbs is stronger than me. But martial artists are craftier than that--and if I know that I won’t win the brute force game, then I don’t play the brute force game. After 12 years of training, I have 238975854569 other games that he doesn’t.

So yes, I could throw Bill around. But the whole point is--I would never have to. Strength would be his fight, because he’s a big dude. If I know my strength won’t win, then I won’t fight that way.

2) Speed and accuracy

Again, I can only speak as a kyokushinkai. But something that we emphasized was that there was a need, when you train, to constantly be uncomfortable. Are we throwing punches? Okay great, here put a weighted belt on only one side of your body and also these rubber bands on your wrist are connected to a guy behind you who will pull your hand back every time you try to throw it forward. Are we practicing defending against surprise attacks, or accuracy? Great, here kick this tiny ping pong ball using only this part of your foot, and wear a blindfold while you’re at it.

12 years of this.

I will reiterate that standing in front of a dude, square on, throwing timed punches--I will lose. He will be stronger than me. But thankfully, that’s...not ever how a fight works.

What allows me to win against a guy of that size is my speed, and my accuracy. Let me tell you a little something about how people punch: people don’t know how to punch. Their features pinch in their face, and their neck tightens. An arm is drawn back--way back--and usually, the leading foot is raised just a tad, on the heel, so it’s just the ball of the foot on the ground. The fist comes through the air in a circular arc, reaching to connect to the side of your face as the person steps forward. The punch’s natural progression is from one of your shoulders to the other--if you can imagine that pathway. The entire thing is circular, it is energy-consuming, but more than that--it’s predictable.

I have spent 12 years getting punched by men stronger than me, who were trained to punch. Men who spent 20 years training to punch. I don’t see those coming, for a few reasons: they’re too fast, but mostly, we have been trained to not “give away” our strikes. Our faces don’t twitch anymore. We give no indication that a punch is coming, until we’ve actually punched you. There’s no wind up. There’s no arc. There’s no shift in weight--it is a direct line, and it is immediate. And devastating. We punch to break cinder blocks. Your face is not as strong as a cinderblock.

Fighting these dudes who give nothing away, I can say that in a street fight against someone--things are moving in slow motion for me. And I can confirm this, because I’ve been jumped twice in my life. Everything the opponent did, it looked like he was moving through molasses. I recognized the sudden tensing in his facial features (as competitors, do you know where we look when we fight? At the hollow of the neck on our opponent. Because of the involuntary way it clenches when they’re about to throw a strike.) I saw the arm wind back--way the fuck back. It gave me a half a second--but that’s a half a second head start, and that’s all the time I need. I can deflect. I can stop. I can strike back.

How this is applicable to the argument: Strength and force don’t even come to the party when an opponent is faster than you, because you can’t exude force against something that you can’t grab or strike. You also can’t exude force against something that strikes you right as you’re attempting to strike it.

And because we train so much on accuracy, it means that I can hit the spot that I mean to hit, with the force I mean to hit it with, under most circumstances. Including on a moving, erratic, unpredictable target. And if I miss, then I have the reflexes fast enough to strike something that was just made available to me in my miss. Example: I go to strike a groin, and he covers? Most men have an incredibly fast reflex to cover their groin. That’s fine, because it means that his hands just went down to block my strike. And when his hands go down, you know what he’s not protecting?

His head. Off with it.

(it’s also important to note that the first thing we are ever taught to protect, is our head. This is so deeply engrained in us. And the number one thing that people always punch for, is the head. When you spend 12 years protecting it against 5th degree black belts, believe me some drunk dude in a bar is not even going to get close to it without dying first.)

3) Tolerance for pain

I mentioned before that if you have never gotten punched before, it is an incredibly jarring experience. You panic. You freeze. Your knees give out. You maybe scream, you probably start to cry, you get really freaked out. There’s so many things that play on the brain in those situations--that you’re in danger, that you’re under attack, that you don’t know what to do, that the punch caused some serious damage, that you’re in pain, that somebody tried to hurt you. All of these things are terrifying, and they’re a very natural panic response to the situation.

Over the course of 12 years, I have gotten punched and kicked at full force--my face, my stomach, my chest, my head--millions of times. Millions. It doesn’t incite panic anymore, but it sure does incite rage.

Kyokushinkai go through various exercises to numb ourselves to pain. We punch telephone books covered in burlap, to kill the nerve endings in our knuckles. When we’re past that, we move onto concrete. We whack our shins with baseball bats to break down the microfibres in the bone, so they’ll not only grow back stronger--but they’ll grow back numb. We stand there, and we let the entire class punch us. Kick us. We don’t block--we absorb it. In kyokushin tournaments, if you show pain, you automatically lose. That means that if I take a kick to the head and I grimace, if I grunt or suck in a breath or otherwise show any emotion--I forfeit the fight. Immediately.

All of this takes the shock value out of experiencing pain, and more importantly, it re-programs your brain to replace it with something else. We have been, essentially, reprogrammed. That’s the only word I can think of for this. The normal brain is programmed that when you get punched, you feel pain. The kyokunshinkai brain is programmed that when you get punched, you feel fucking blind rage.

How this is applicable to the argument: He might be stronger, and he might land the hit. But I have been punched much harder by men who have been trained to use their bodies as weapons. I have submitted my body to that for 12 years. So he may land the hit. But it won’t hurt me, because for 12 years, I have been through worse. And if he lands the hit, refer to item 2 on how I can still win. Most people throw the punch thinking it will end the fight. It’s rather shocking when you throw the punch and a harder one lands on you 2 seconds later.

4) We understand body mechanics.

This is kind of all of the points rolled into one. Martial artists have an innate understanding of pressure points, how to manipulate them, but more than that--we understand how the body moves. We understand actions, and counter-actions. We understand involuntary muscle twitches. We understand the ebb and flow, the sway, the centre lines. Gravity.

Up top I mentioned that in competition, we stare at the other person’s throat when we fight. This is not only because it’s one of the places where your peripheral vision is most effective (you can see all movement in their arms and legs), but because the body basically gives involuntary muscle twitches there before any other movement is made. If something there twitches, then something is about to come flying at your head.

But we also understand that for anybody who hasn’t been trained, a contortion of the facial features precedes strike. It’s a running joke amongst martial artists, this idea that “a punch comes from your face.” It does. there is always a constriction of the facial features before a strike.

We understand the body mechanics of a poorly thrown punch. We understand that to get more force, people will swing back, shift their weight to their back leg before pitching forward, planting their front leg, swinging their arm way behind them as their gravity shifts to the front and they launch it. A martial artist would look at this situation, and manipulate it.

So when the dude shifts his weight onto his back leg and draws his arm back--you break his back leg. Chop it down like a fucking tree, which is easy to do when his weight is on it. Or you let him throw the punch, and you move--just a slight toss to the side, guide his arm where it was going anyway if you want to, and with a little downward momentum this guy is eating pavement. And again, it’s his own momentum. You’re just nudging him to where he was already going.

As martial artists we understand centrelines and counterbalance. We understand that sometimes you need to swing things up to have enough momentum to bring them down (a double collar grab), we understand that you need to oppose the force to gain enough momentum to go with the force (a double wrist grab on you that turns into a forearm lock on them).

How this is applicable to the argument: if I could hone in on something here, and it’s only because it’s something that took me a long time to learn: we understand how to force someone to fight our fight. For years and years I would adapt to someone else’s fight. If he was a garbage truck on the mats, standing there and pounding on me, I would morph into a garbage truck too and just stand there, take it, and punch back--instead of working my angles, getting off his centre, not giving him the access to get into a punching rhythm. And against a big tall dude, a big strong dude--no, I can’t reach his head.

But I can make his head come to me.

You learn that a groin kick will lower an opponent’s hands, and it will buckle their knees in protection. Cause them to crouch. You learn that a well positioned punch low on the abdomen--say, the bladder--will fold a person in half, which brings their head much closer to you. You learn to get what you want. You want the back leg? You put yours forward. Offer it up. You hand it to them on a silver platter and let them believe they have it. You want the ribs? You throw up high, so their hands come up. You want the groin? You give them your hands. Because essentially--they don’t have your hands. You have theirs, and then bullseye.

Which brings me to my fifth and final point....

5) Adaptability.

As martial artists, we have options. We have a lot of options. We like options. We don’t believe in one fight. We don’t believe you’re ever really stuck. But we do believe in something else, that is very dear to us. A philosophy, of sorts, and it goes like this:

Every single part of me is a weapon and every single part of you is a target.

We know how to use what’s left, we know how to use what’s available. If you have one of my hands, I have 3 other weapons I can strike you with. If I kick for your groin and I miss or you block, I now know that your head is unprotected and you’re hunched over. It means I can knock you out, it means I can reach and literally rip your ears off (sorry kids, self-defence is nasty). If I throw a punch for your solar plexus and you move, I can hit you from any angle within a 5 foot radius because that’s how I’ve been trained. If you break my leg, then I’ll remember that time that I broke my leg in competition and I still finished the fight, because I know that my adrenaline is so far off the charts that I still have a good 20 minutes before I’ll feel the pain.

If I kick and you block, I know how to throw another 3 kicks before my foot lands--all at different areas of the body. If I punch and you block, I know how to punch another 6 times and kick another 3 and one of them is bound to land, and hurt you.

How this is applicable to the argument: Everybody’s got a plan ‘til they get punched in the face. Most people start a brawl with some semblance of a plan in mind--even if that plan is just “I’m gonna throw this punch that this fucker won’t ever see coming and knock him the fuck out.”

Martial artists don’t have a plan. Martial artists wait until you reveal your plan, and then we just make sure we don’t let you carry through with it. I hope this helps shed some light, bubs <3

#void journal #Leilani babbles #martial arts

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the-odd-job · 3 years

Text

Up in Flames chapter 14 - Tear Into You (Ashes Part 2)

Warnings: Major Character Death, Chose Not to Use Category: Other Fandom: Transformers Relationships: Megatron/Sunstreaker, Megatron/Sideswipe, Sideswipe & Sunstreaker Characters: Sunstreaker, Megatron Additional Tags: Dubcon, Mechpreg, Sticky Words: 5342

Am I beautiful As I tear you to pieces? Am I beautiful? Even at my ugliest, you always say I'm beautiful As you tear me to pieces You are beautiful Even at your ugliest, I always say You're beautiful and sick like me

— In This Moment – Sick Like Me

( Previous )

It turned into a public event, as little of a surprise as that was. They were gladiators. Fighting for show was what they did, even if the glory days of the Pits were long gone, brought down by Megatron himself.

But gone or not, their world was still familiar to most of the Decepticon army. There were many among their ranks that could appreciate a good showdown between skilled fighters—and Sunstreaker quite enjoyed providing shows of that nature. Didn’t he deserve to be the center of attention, both for what he was and what he could do?

And Megatron as his opponent only did him justice. Could he win? Probably not. Megatron had beaten him every time they had ever fought, rightfully proving himself superior no matter the circumstances.

Would he still give it his best go? Pit yeah. Anything less would’ve been nothing but an embarrassment. As much as winning was the goal, so was entertaining, and testing yourself, pushing yourself to your limit in front of so many appreciative optics.

And this side of the war definitely could appreciate real fights like the Autobots never did. The Autobots were more concerned with not going overt with the damage inflicted during sparring, and real fights were supposed to be off the table entirely, as little as Sunstreaker had ever followed that rule.

The Decepticons didn’t have such concerns. They were a violent bunch and seemed to only consider the injuries racked up as inevitable, without seeing any reason to change their actions because someone or other got hurt and required repairs. Part of life, no? Nothing more, nothing less. No reason to make a number out of it. With continued access to Cybertron, they didn't even need to worry about resources—aside from the ever elusive energon—as the Autobots did.

That suited Sunstreaker just fine, as did the fact no one thought twice about him suffering injuries the same as everyone else, despite the fact he was carrying. The only reason anyone spent time having second thoughts before fighting him was his sheer proven prowess. He could scrap most of the mecha on either side of the war. Did you really want to mess with him?

Megatron didn’t need to worry about things like that, though. Sunstreaker could provide him with a good fight, and he would do so, but Megatron’s strength and ability exceeded even his own. Everyone knew that.

Didn’t stop Sunstreaker from immediately agreeing to the suggestion of another no holds barred fight, and that saw them here, in the training room with the majority of the Decepticon army on Earth standing aside, optics sharp on them. Megatron’s sword was extended and Sunstreaker held his own thermal sword, ready to carve his fragging name in the warlord’s armor. As much as they were both weapons just by existing… Well, additional aids were damage multipliers, weren’t they? They evened the odds a little, allowed for greater damage on both sides. That came in quite handy.

Especially now. Megatron was, in frame, more of a weapon than he was. Once upon a time Sunstreaker would have considered them equal as far as their armaments went, but since then, he’d lost his claws, his fangs, his edges—things Megatron still retained because who would dare try to take those from him.

Didn’t matter. Sunstreaker still knew how to hit and how to tear, blunt digits or not, and he damn well knew how to handle a sword. Maybe he was at a disadvantage, maybe he was the underdog—then let it be so. It wouldn’t stop him from giving as good as he got.

“Haven’t we done this enough times already?” Sunstreaker asked as Megatron nodded at him, inviting him to make the first move. He did, rushing the warlord, dodging the blade that moved to intercept him, although he couldn’t break through Megatron’s defense enough to actually land a hit. Neither did he receive a hit either, though, dancing out of the way of Megatron’s attack on light pedes.

“Do you complain?” Megatron asked in return, moving on him, but Sunstreaker moved with him, staying just half a step ahead. Enough to save him until he could try to take an opening.

It didn’t work. Megatron blocked him, and wasn’t it satisfying to feel like his skill was truly matched, like he’d be made to work for every attack he could possibly land.

Sunstreaker’s mouth tugged into a smirk. “No. Why would I ever say no to a chance of slagging you? Fragging well deserve it, at least.”

“Do I now?” the tyrant rumbled in amusement, sending Sunstreaker stumbling back with a strike of his sword, cutting too deep into his plating. Megatron moved to a follow up attack in one fluent motion, but Sunstreaker wasn’t there anymore when it was supposed to reach him, moving out of the way like quicksilver.

“Damn well. Or did you forget everything you’ve done?” Sunstreaker’s sword connected with Megatron’s side, too shallow, a second before he had to dodge again. There was no way it would’ve been that easy, anyway.

He’d be disappointed if it was. Megatron was supposed to be better than that, and he was.

“How large of a scale are we talking about, here?” Megatron humored him. Sunstreaker could surmise what he meant. There was many a mech who would take an issue with the whole war Megatron had thrust Cybertron into—the atrocities he’d committed in the name of his cause. Genocide.

Did Sunstreaker think he deserved an ass kicking for all that? He should have. He had been an Autobot, a faction whose entire purpose was to oppose Megatron and everything he did and wanted to do. It was that insignia that still painted his chest, scratched out now. Why was he ever one of the red faction if he didn’t think Megatron deserved to pay for his supposed crimes?

They knew already.

What, then? Did he think Megatron had been right all along, justified in what he did? All the death he’d caused, the innocent he’d killed? What did he think of that?

“Scale of my goddamn life,” Sunstreaker growled, jumping out of the way of Megatron’s slash that would have beyond hurt had it connected, and taking his chances with an attack of his own. It landed. Muted satisfaction burst in his spark. The sparklet in his chamber vibrated, its excitement joining his own.

This was right. Fighting, testing his mettle, against its sire too, proving to it and to himself once again that Megatron was powerful enough to be considered beyond desirable for the role.

“Hm. And everything else I’ve done?” the tyrant asked from him. Why? Was he genuinely curious?

Or was he testing him? Megatron wanted him to fight. Not just like this—blades clashing against each other before one broke through, sharp cuts from Megatron’s, searing slashes from Sunstreaker's—but in the war. For him. Was this an attempt at gauging his current stance on the whole matter?

“You didn’t do any of that to me,” came Sunstreaker’s answer. He dove past Megatron’s defense again, and this time his sword sank deep into Megatron’s side, as much as the warlord knew how to angle himself to reduce the severity of the damage. Getting out of the way of the retaliation was as important as delivering hurt, but he only managed that with a hair’s breadth away from the harm Megatron wanted to inflict on him.

Good enough, all the same.

“Selfish,” Megatron commented, but it didn’t sound like an accusation as it would’ve been coming from any Autobot. More just an… Observation.

“You know it,” Sunstreaker grinned, unrepentant. As if it wasn’t common knowledge Sunstreaker didn’t really give a crap about anyone but himself. More reasons for the Autobots to dislike him. They put so much weight on altruism, Optimus in particular. Oh, all the talks he had gotten for putting himself first, at the cost of others.

Hadn’t really worked, any of those chastisements. He was yet to see the error of his ways.

“And what of all the good I’ve brought upon your life?” Megatron went on to ask. Sunstreaker frowned a second before he was too slow and received a strike that sliced clean through his armor. He ignored the ache of the cut in favor of dodging to the side, away from Megatron’s follow up attack. But, if he’d hoped to take the chance to deliver an attack of his own, Megatron was quick to squash those dreams.

“What fucking good?” Sunstreaker growled after he’d gathered his bearings and they were back to their scheduled dancing, injuries, wounds on both of them slowly piling up. “You destroyed it.”

“As was necessary. I freed you from the Autobots,” came Megatron’s argument, delivered in time with a feign Sunstreaker didn’t recognize as such, followed by a fast attack that landed and had him reeling and scrambling out of the way for a precious second that ended with a cut on Megatron when the tyrant was a little too slow to turn to face him.

Sunstreaker couldn’t really disagree with Megatron on this one, though. He growled again instead, veering to the side quickly enough to deliver another attack that landed almost as it was intended to before Megatron could force him away.

“Ends justify the means, huh?” Sunstreaker asked after he’d dodged again, diving right back in the next moment to deliver a vicious strike upon the larger mech. “Waltz right in, announce my crimes to the whole damn world, but that’s fine because it would roast me out of the Autobots?” Fragger.

“Do you disagree it was for the best?” Megatron asked from him, then moved far faster than he had any right to. Sunstreaker couldn’t get out of the way quickly enough and Megatron’s blade sank into his armor, leaving yet another gaping tear behind.

But not deep enough to bleed. Yet.

“What does it matter? A little too late to go back, now,” Sunstreaker hissed back. Whatever he thought of it wouldn’t change things anymore. There was no fixing what Megatron had done.

“But not too late to move forward,” the tyrant said—and why the slag did Sunstreaker feel like they were again circling back to the matter of would he or would he not fight? He couldn’t go back to being an Autobot, not after everything… Not that he really wanted to, either.

Did he want to be Neutral, then? Denounce his planet and his species for the sake of being outside the fight, picking no side?

Or would he rather continue fighting?

“You’re not really winning me over,” he growled at Megatron all the same, performing one attack, another… But the third was blocked and countered. Sunstreaker was forced to backpedal fast as he could manage, his engine revving in aggravation.

“You’re as stubborn as they come,” Megatron snarled back at him. Sunstreaker chuckled, twice so when he managed to turn the tables for a moment and jam his sword into a gap in Megatron’s armor.

“You’re only now noticing that?” he purred at the warlord even as he was forced to take a step back again, then another, and another before he could slip to Megatron’s side. But no, even that didn’t work. This time there was blood when Megatron swept his sword into him, deep enough to nick fuel lines. Sunstreaker could feel the wetness running down his internals, but he made damn sure Megatron’s plating melted under his own sword before he dodged out of the way. Wouldn’t do to give Megatron a chance to do something even worse, but there was no fragging way Sunstreaker was going to get the bastard get away with slag, either.

Now all he needed to do was return to the favor for real and have Megatron’s blood drip along his frame as Sunstreaker’s was.

“Hardly. Headstrong—it’s one of your more attractive qualities.”

This time Sunstreaker laughed outright, although he didn’t let it distract him from the fight, weaving his frame out of the way of Megatron’s attacks. The sparkling was pulsing urgently, growing even more excited at the feeling of his amusement.

And it was amusement. Pleasure, too, though no surprise. Maybe there should’ve been some, with the trouble his stubbornness had caused Megatron. Lack of cooperation and whatnot.

But Sunstreaker was a creature of confidence that some said he took to a sick level. True to that form, “Do I even have any unattractive qualities?” Sunstreaker asked.

“I think you answered that question yourself,” Megatron responded, his field flaring with faint mirth of his own. Sunstreaker growled at the suggestion behind the words—that his self-regard went over the top and that wasn’t a positive quality.

Well, frag that. The insecure wastes of space just couldn’t understand the comfort of loving yourself.

Sunstreaker dismissed Megatron’s opinion entirely with, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

And nearly got his arm cut off for not reading Megatron’s movement fast enough. That, though, wasn’t enough to distract either of them from their conversation.

“I won’t claim it’s not refreshing, as well,” Megatron conceded in time with Sunstreaker moving in, dodging past the tyrant’s attempted block and– Ah, now there was blood from Megatron too. His blade cut deep and true before Megatron could jerk out of the way. Sunstreaker didn’t let him go so easily, even if he paid for his second attack with a deep groove on his own armor.

But the pain was rewarding. He’d earned it.

And now that they were both bloodied, it felt like the fight was really starting. No Pit fight should be dry; it just wasn’t entertaining without spilled energon tainting the ground. Sunstreaker vowed that Megatron’s blood would pool on the floor before they were done—and acknowledged that his own would likely join it in no small amount. If it didn’t, what were they even doing this for?

So he pressed his attack, no matter how Megatron gave no quarter—no matter how he had to work to evade the injuries that would’ve otherwise piled on him in truly painful amounts. But frag, what else was he supposed to do? He didn’t want to do anything else. All he wanted was to dance on that blade’s edge, feel it every time he was too slow and it scraped along his body.

But also every time Megatron wasn’t fast enough and it was Sunstreaker’s sword that dug into him. Blood, they both wanted that—and they both got it.

“So what you’re really saying–” Sunstreaker continued, bringing his sword to block Megatron’s when it came down at him, and taking just that moment to meet the warlord’s optics. Sunstreaker smirked. “–Is that I have no unattractive qualities.” Even the one Megatron named he only rescinded by calling it refreshing in the next moment.

What surprise was it, though? He was beautiful, physically—but he also embodied so many of the things their city had admired, in his behavior and personality. The Autobots had never appreciated his spirit. He was unyielding, ruthless, comfortable with himself, oft violent, temperamental. He wasn’t a pushover. He knew his worth and demanded others acknowledge it too.

He wasn’t a meek little thing like the Autobots would’ve wanted him to be. He wasn’t humble, he wasn’t good.

He was everything an Autobot shouldn’t be, but everything a Kaonite should be—and could it be that he was what a Decepticon should be, too?

Maybe.

“You love to flatter yourself, don’t you?” Megatron rumbled. Slice, cut. Sunstreaker could feel the pain, relished in it.

Ignored it. Delivered it. Megatron ignored it too, showing no signs of feeling his injuries any more than Sunstreaker was. They both possessed well trained pain tolerances, and when nothing vital had been severed yet… Well, there was no reason to act on the pain they were both feeling, and that was multiplying with every moment, with every time one of them couldn’t block or dodge and paid for it.

Blood was beginning to flow faster, attacks on old wounds cutting deeper than the first pass had. Hurting more, too, as their frames informed them of the mounting damage.

Fragging right. Bring it on, give more, back down none.

Sunstreaker’s fans were running faster as the exertion began to build its effects, excitement and emotion only adding to the mess. He could hear the murmur of the Decepticons watching them, but ignored it with age old professionalism. Distractions weren’t acceptable.

Especially not now, with Megatron as intent on bringing him down as Sunstreaker was on not allowing that.

“Is it flattery if it’s just speaking the truth?” he asked, twisting his frame out of the way and into Megatron, bringing his sword to where it would fragging well hurt. And he was hurt in return, and so it went.

Had he still had his claws, he would’ve used those on the tyrant too. He could picture all the ways he could’ve employed them in tandem with his sword, dig them in preexisting wounds, tear every time he was within reach, accentuate the use of his blade and add to the damage he could deliver.

Because Megatron was definitely putting his claws to use, and every time they scratched into him, Sunstreaker envied him for still having them. They drew more blood from him, tore at his armor, bent it, built atop the wounds already littering him.

More and more blood, but it wasn’t just his. His sword damaged near as many lines on Megatron as what were being cut in his own frame. Pink was dribbling from the seams of their armors, all the way to the floor it began to slick.

Better not lose your footing.

“Do you truly think yourself flawless?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

Megatron growled at him, and it was just insanity when the warlord stepped forward, right where Sunstreaker could drive his blade through his abdomen–

Only to misread Megatron’s intent and have the back of his helm grabbed. “You’re lucky you have your looks. Your attitude would be very tiresome otherwise,” Megatron growled lowly at him. Sunstreaker wasn’t sure if anyone else could even hear him—or if anyone else was meant to hear him.

But where Megatron could have caught him tight enough to crush… He didn’t. In fact, Sunstreaker was able to pull himself free and retreat a couple of steps away. “I don’t think you mind my attitude as much as you say you do,” he grinned before he dove right back in. Their swords clashed, then they didn’t, then they cut—more blood joined the mess on the floor, more armor was mutilated. Char from the heat of Sunstreaker’s sword tainted the edges of Megatron’s injuries; the edges of Sunstreaker’s wounds were ragged where Megatron’s had torn deeper into them.

Deep, shallow, it all hurt, all piled on top of each other and itself until important parts were reached after all this time, when even their thick plating wasn’t enough to protect them anymore. The engine in Sunstreaker’s left arm suffered under Megatron’s sword—Sunstreaker switched his sword to his right hand. Megatron’s engine was rattling where Sunstreaker had managed to sink his sword into it. Something in his leg was severed, giving the tyrant a limp.

Yet that wasn’t enough to noticeably slow either of them down—not enough to end their fight so soon.

But it was entering its twilight phase all the same. They could only carry on for so long at the pace they were building injuries on each other. Their ventilations turned more ragged, both from the heat that built in their systems, as well as the damage their vents suffered along with the rest of their frames. The floor was painted in pink; it was harder to not slip on the steps they took, back and forth. Harder yet for Sunstreaker as the one who had to move more, when he couldn’t possibly accept the same amount of damage Megatron could put up with if it meant hurting Sunstreaker worse.

And oh, he was hurting. His injuries throbbed at him in time with the rapid pulse of his spark—his excitement, the sparkling’s excitement, his thrill, the sparkling’s thrill merging together until there was more emotion than Sunstreaker could have ever managed on his own. His frame was on the verge of lagging dangerously, too, as much as he could force it into full cooperation for now.

Megatron was only doing better to an extent, but it was still becoming obvious he was gaining the upper hand, his size and durability simply surpassing Sunstreaker’s—and Sunstreaker couldn’t make up for it by causing more damage than what was being caused on him. Quite the opposite.

Didn’t matter. What mattered was that Megatron had a limp, there was terrible grinding coming from his right arm with every motion he forced it into, and he was bleeding more than just a little. Sunstreaker had done that to him. His armor was split in so many places. He could almost feel Megatron’s injuries as phantom sensations on top of his own.

Never let it be said he had gone down easily. Never let it be said he hadn’t hurt Megatron.

But go down he did. Megatron drove his sword through his abdomen first when Sunstreaker made just one mistake, too slow to get out of the way. Blood gushed forth when energon lines were cut well and proper, but that alone wouldn’t have been enough to down him. No, Sunstreaker merely backed away from his impalement, fast as he could, but before he was free… Megatron yanked his sword sideways.

Sunstreaker gasped when it tore through far too much machinery, his armor barely enough to stop Megatron’s strength before he would have halfway cut him in two.

Even that wasn’t serious enough to bring him down on its own, but it forced him to reorient himself from the damage warnings that, along with the simple pain, clued him in on quite a few parts that stopped working entirely, and others yet that were verging on that point.

He took too long with that, was distracted for too many precious seconds. He jerked away when Megatron kicked at him, but that only put him in the path of the blunt impact of the hilt of Megatron’s sword to his face.

Was he steady on his pedes, he may have been able to overcome even that much.

He wasn’t.

His footing didn’t keep on the blood slicked floor and Sunstreaker came crashing down, landing hard with a grunt as nearly every damn part of his frame complained about the impact. Still, he would have tried to get to his pedes if Megatron hadn’t knelt on his fragging abdomen. Sunstreaker’s vocalizer glitched to static at the agony, thoroughly distracting him from the sword that pressed to his throat.

Decapitation. Not deadly, but more than incapacitating. Sunstreaker’s vents heaved as he tried to push the pain aside enough to focus on his predicament.

His optics eventually found Megatron’s, finding the tyrant staring down at him, his expression unreadable.

Everyone knew he had won, though. Sunstreaker only confirmed that with, “I yield,” spoken loud enough for the observers.

At once the gathered Decepticons broke into cheers and jeers, whooping for the high of a good fight, laughing both for the victory of their leader and for Sunstreaker’s loss. The sparkling shook along with the thrum of the cacophony of noise, dancing to the rapid rotation of Sunstreaker’s spark, asking for more still.

Was nothing enough?

Megatron’s sword disappeared back into his arm and his knee rose from Sunstreaker’s abdomen. Sunstreaker sucked in a sharp ventilation as the damaged parts were again realigned by the lack of pressure. Distracted by it, he jerked when Megatron’s servo came to his chin, taking a hold of it. Sunstreaker met his optics again as the tyrant traced his thumb along his lower lip. “Blood looks good on you,” Megatron commented.

Sunstreaker huffed a laugh. “Ditto.” It was what Megatron deserved, and no doubt the warlord thought the same of him. You know, for his attitude.

But here he was, with Megatron above him, straddling his frame now. Sunstreaker’s optics brightened and Megatron’s optical ridges rose inquisitively in response, right before Sunstreaker forced his aching frame into motion and arched up against the larger frame. Megatron didn’t need any time to understand, his optics coming to glow a little brighter too. His engine rumbled even as Sunstreaker had to fight his ventilations that wanted to again come fast and hard and ragged. Something to do with the pain in his frame, that he dedicated himself to ignoring in favor of locking into a staring contest with the tyrant.

Whose servo slipped between their frames, brushing against his valve cover. “In front of everyone?” Megatron growled at him.

Sunstreaker growled back. “You object?”

“Hardly.” He wasn’t given a chance to retract a damn thing this time. Megatron claws hooked into the seams of his valve panel as they had who knew how many times already, and like who knew how many times before, the cover was torn clean off.

The sting of that was completely eclipsed by everything else his frame was going through. He didn’t give a frag about it, he only cared about the digits that pushed into his valve without the obstruction in the way. It was as slick as the floor, lubricant making the entrance of Megatron’s claws a smooth glide. The headiness of the preceding fight wasn’t lost to either of them, and Sunstreaker’s ventilations were quick to speed up for reasons that had nothing to do with the aches of his frame.

The Decepticons had quickly caught on to the shift, and their cheers had rather changed in nature. Catcalls filled the air as well as dirty encouragements and lewd laughter. Clearly, they weren’t the prudish lot in the slightest.

Sunstreaker didn’t mind being the center of attention in this, either. Fighting, fucking, was there so much difference? Both were raw sports that laid you bare for others to see. Blood, internals—lubricant and transfluid, retracted covers. They weren’t so far removed.

Megatron was all on board with this, by all appearances. His digits thrust in and out until Sunstreaker was well and truly ready—as if he hadn’t been so all the while—only for the tyrant to release his spike and replace his digits with it.

Sunstreaker hiked his hips up for better angle as Megatron pushed into him, despite the pain of his midsection. He wasn’t about to let that stop him, no matter how the way Megatron fetched his spike only to slam back in made his vents hitch and vocalizer produce some more static.

Primus, it hurt. His abdomen loudly told him all about how it hated him right then, even as his valve sang its praises as Megatron set up a pace that was no less punishing than usual, only this time made all the more so by the multitude of injuries they both sported.

Megatron had to feel it too. There was no way he was unaffected by forcing his frame into motion like this, this fast, this violent, right after the bloodshed they’d just inflicted on each other.

But he didn’t let that slow him, and pits, Sunstreaker fragging well didn’t ask him to slow down, to go easy on him just because he was hurting.

No, Sunstreaker arched into him. Sunstreaker wove his arms behind the warlord’s neck and pulled him down as his damage warnings piled in even greater numbers on his HUD. As his frame informed him of how much more it was breaking under Megatron’s administrations, Sunstreaker pressed their lips together, moaning—no fake—when Megatron overtook him, his glossa slipping into his mouth, lips pressing tighter, and his hips pistoning harder, if that was even possible. It was stretch and fullness like always, the abuse of what felt like every last sensor in his valve.

Sunstreaker shuddered from pleasure and agony both until he couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. The sensations melded together until one only added to the other, and he fragging hurt, but he felt spectacular, his valve clenching as his frame was brutally driven towards completion.

He could taste Megatron’s own pain in his field. It was gratification, proof that he had fought well and true, but also, even more proof that Megatron wasn’t weak in any sense of the word. It didn’t matter he was aching, he was still willing and able to take his prize.

Neither of them was weak. The sparkling wouldn’t be weak either, not with creators like them.

And if it was despite that… Well, would they have any need for it? This wasn’t a world for the feeble. He wouldn’t accept that.

But it was unlikely to come to pass. It wasn’t weak in spark, not now, not ever, pushing at him, riding every exhilarating emotion, demanding that he feed it more of it. It was lively, it was gaining more mass with every passing day—it was thriving, healthy. Why would it change that course all of a sudden?

It wouldn’t, he was certain of that as it spun faster in its own rotation in time with the pleasure growing in his frame. He rocked into Megatron’s thrusts no matter the pain, bit down on the tyrant’s lip to another growl from him. A sharp jab of Megatron’s hips had Sunstreaker’s vents seizing when it jarred his injuries.

He wouldn’t have it any other way. His servo grasped the back of Megatron’s helm, locking him in place as the pleasure crested and he groaned against the warlord’s lips. Charge released from his frame and he tensed, further hurting himself, more warnings popping up on his HUD.

Fucking worth it. This was the way to feel, this was the way to live, and he was fragging done having anyone tell him otherwise.

By the continued racket around them, he was no further from his kin here than he had been in Kaon, in the Pits. The noise only increased when Megatron growled his own overload, jerking his hips into Sunstreaker to another pained hiss from him—whooping for their completion, for the sight of charge crackling across both their frames. It was a show from start to finish, all of it.

Never let them forget where Sunstreaker had come from—the very same place as so many of them.

He loosened his hold on Megatron and with another graze of sharp denta across his lips the tyrant pulled away from him until there was enough distance for their gazes to meet, amusement in Megatron’s optics… As well as something else. Sunstreaker couldn’t quite name it. Approval?

Ugh. Frag him and opinions. “Done already?” Sunstreaker growled at him, jabbing his digits into a deep gash on Megatron’s side and relishing in the jerk of the tyrant’s frame. Did that hurt?

Megatron responded by rather meaningfully tracing his damaged midsection, and just the threat of what he could do to injure him further had Sunstreaker snarling some more. “Mercy is so overrated, isn’t it?” the tyrant asked from him in return–

Before driving his claws into the gaping wound of his abdomen, in time with a harsh thrust into his valve. The dual pain on that one area of his frame had Sunstreaker’s helm snapping back against the floor, but he didn’t scream, only ground his denta together and groaned.

“Frag you,” he panted once he could will his optics open again, glaring at the tyrant now sporting an entirely benevolent smile. Megatron drew back… Thrust back in, and his claws remained in his abdomen. It was pain, plain and simple—but also satisfaction, the knowledge of what Megatron was ready and willing to do clouding Sunstreaker’s good sense.

“Backing down already?” Megatron wondered with an innocent tilt of his helm, as if he wasn’t aggravating already severe injuries.

Sunstreaker yanked on Megatron’s wounds a little harder this time, bending his plating until the tyrant was growling a warning at him.

The twin grinned. “Keep fucking dreaming.”

( Next )

#transformers #maccadam #sunstreaker #megatron #megasun #fic #2020 #ashes #up in flames

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nctzendreamz · 4 years

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NCT: They Have A Nightmare Where You Die After A Bad Argument. (Taeil, Johnny, Ten, Jaehyun, Doyoung, and Lucas)

“Can I have a Taeil, Ten, Johnny, Doyoung, Jaehyun and Lucas reaction where they have a nightmare where you die after the two of you get into an argument? I figured cutting down the members would help you out hehe! <33333”

Taeil:

The dream was normal at first. It didn’t necessarily make sense, but it was normal. As always you were in them in some kind of way, but it wasn’t until you got into a car accident would Taeil shoot up from his sleep, frantically looking for you. He had completely forgot about how badly the two of you argued and he honestly could care less. He just needed to make sure you were okay. When he saw that you weren’t lying beside him, he immediately ran towards your living room where he saw you asleep on the couch.

“Jeez.” He whispered in relief before plopping down on the couch beside you and wiping the tears from his eyes.

Johnny:

When you and Johnny argued, he often had a bad ass habit of saying things he didn’t mean. This argument was probably the most serious one you’ve ever had, and the last thing he said before he closed his eyes was, “And you wonder why I don’t like bringing you around other people.” He knew those words most likely made you cry, but he also didn’t care because he was angry. He went to sleep and ironically his whole dream...or nightmare should he say was about you. The whole time he was in darkness. He would hear your voice and would run towards it, but he could never find you. When he couldn’t hear the voice anymore his eyes would shoot open and he would realize he was crying.

“Y/N.” Was the first thing he whispered when he saw you wide awake beside him in bed.

“Bad dream?” You questioned.

“I’m so sorry.” He would repeat over and over again. Tomorrow, the day after that, months from now. Following that night you would see a change in Johnny. When the two of you did end up arguing again, it wouldn’t even be the same.

Taeyong:

Just like the other members, he shot up from the nightmare he just had, but unlike the other members who had a few tears coming down their cheeks, he was bawling. In the dream you didn’t only die, but he was the one who killed you. Recently he noticed he had been getting on you for the stupidest things and his best guess for the nightmare he just had was that it was a warning. If he continued to pick fights with you, you were going to be gone. Even after your argument though you were still snuggled up into his side, barely waking up even through his excessive crying. He was so grateful for you and the minute you opened your eyes he was going to show you.

Doyoung:

The fight that you and Doyoung had was your first one, and it also wasn’t even face to face. It killed him because he hated his feeling. The feeling of you being mad at him and him being mad at you. He was scared that you would try to break up with him because of how bad it was was in his head. He would take a nap to just stop thinking about it, but the nightmare he had ruined that and all he could do was cry. All he wanted to do is be held by you but he barely could go to the bathroom without being patrolled on. The vibration of his phone caught his attention and his heart did a backflip when he saw it was you calling him. He wanted to still be mad at you, but he couldn’t be. The fight was dumb.

“Hello?” He said, still trying to keep his previous tone.

“Come to door 11.” Was all you said before hanging up.

“Can I be excused to go to the bathroom?” He asked his manager who gave him a look but allowed him to go. Once he made it to his destination he saw you standing on the wall with a big bag of food in your hands.

“Will this make you forgive me?” You said with a pout.

He quickly walked up to you, taking in the scent he loved so much in your hair before kissing you deeply. “Maybe.” He smirked.

Ten:

The only member who’s argument genuinely was based off stress and had no real meaning behind it. Ten was tired, and because you asked him to watch a movie with you he snapped. He knew you couldn’t see he was tired because he was always smiling and he wasn’t acting any different. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. The nightmare would make him wake up and just like Taeyong, you were cuddled into his side when he looked to the right of him. He continued to poke you because he wasn’t going to let you toss and turn all night thinking he was upset with you. When you finally did wake up, he went straight for a kiss.

“I’m sorry baby.” Another kiss. “Let me make it up to you.” He whispered as he placed a kiss on your neck now.

Jaehyun:

He honestly didn’t know what spirit had gotten into the two of you to make the you both yell at eachother like you did, but it happened. He yelled so much his voice sounded cracked and damaged when he attempted to talk. Being the gentleman he was, he made himself a comfy spot on the couch before going to sleep quicker than he remembered laying his head down. His plans were to sleep his anger off, but his dreams went completely south and he tried to rise, but couldn’t move. You were on top of him asleep. He would throw his head back before wiping his glossy eyes.

“You drive me crazy.” Was all he would say before he held you and stared up at the ceiling for the rest of the night.

Lucas:

He was over the fight as soon as the last words were said, but he knew how you were. You needed to take your time to be alone and meditate with yourself to calm down, and he was fine with that. He was going to get some sleep and when he woke up the two of you would camly talk about what just happened. Sleeping was a mistake though. He had a nightmare of you falling off a cliff and just as your body was about to hit the ground he shot up out of breath.

“Baby, what's wrong?” Was the first thing he heard and thank God it was your voice. It took him a good two minutes to get it together, but when he did he pulled you down with him so you were cuddled into his side.

“We’re not fighting ever again.”

#nct #nct 127 #nct reaction #nct taeil #nct johnny #nct ten #wayv ten #nct jaehyun #nct doyoung #nct lucas #way v lucas #nct imagine #nct scenario #nct reactions

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ssaalexblake · 4 years

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top 5 master\13 sex-scenarios

i love u

Okay sexual content, massively horny on main, very not safe for work!!! look away if you don’t want to know!!! children avert your eyes etc etc this blog’s usual pg-13 rating has been raised for this ask

5) Cracky scenario where they decide to roleplay as each other for some dumb reason, probably because they genuinely want to insult the hell out of each other because they’re vicious and have massive issues, but also want to get laid and this kills two birds with one stone. Except they get Weirdly into it, are both Way too good at being each other (they will never talk about that ever) and they’re both in this weird place where it’s Hot but it Shouldn’t be because they’re pretending to be each other and that should not turn them on but it Does except then it turns into a fight over who gets to be on top b/c 13′s like ‘uhm me i always am’ and he’s ‘but i’m Being you so i should get to’ and then 13 suspects he suggested this entire joke of a situation so he could get to be on top for Once. He did. He did that. She laughs at him, then he starts laughing too and it turns actually kind of cute and soft. They will deny that forever tho. She let him be on top but like.... Just that once. This is probably as close to a cute moment they’ll Ever have. Let me have this.

4) He tries to pull some more of his ‘kneel’ bs on her, we’ll say they’re in her tardis because i need a proper height surface for this, she skips shock/irritation this time and just Smirks at him. This of/c stops him in his tracks because it’s Hot and his brain stalls for a second. Then it stalls for a lot More seconds when she starts to slowly back him down to the tardis console. His back hits it, finally, after stumbling on the step a little because he’s not taken his eyes off of her and she just carries on till she’s pressed up against him. He starts to try and say something but stops because she stooped a little and grabbed his thighs and bodily picks him up with no problems at all and shoves him on top of the console, ties him to it with something, and by then he’s a horny mess and she jumps on top of him and rides him and the the tardis is mad at both of them for a solid month but it was worth it, So.

3) straight up, she gets him to kneel and eat her out where she stands. she gets him off without anybody changing position just with her boot through his pants. She also pulls his hair a lot.

2) A straight up brutal fist fight where they’re trying to do some real painful damage to each other, strangling, eye poking, in general high pain fight moves, as with this cliche they end up pressed into one and other breathing heavily and he’s hard and they’re panting and it goes from punching to furiously making out and yanking on hair to hurt and scratching each other to ribbons and they don’t actually get their clothes off in any way and just make a huge muddy mess of themselves in the dirt and when they’re done they literally straighten their outfits only to Start Fighting Again. They be like that.

1) I am not fussed how this comes about, but they are probably being antagonistic and egging each other on and instead of a fight or an argument breaking out they end up almost fucking on the floor, until she pulls away and walks off into the tardis to her room or A room or whatever just assuming he’ll follow because that’s where the strap on was and she pegs him till he Cries because she won’t touch him any other way and then just like, whispers in his ear ‘how do you like having a piece of me inside you Now’ and That’s what gets him off and he’s so out of it after he almost passes out and she smacks him bc he’s not gotten her off yet and ‘just roll over so i can sit on your stupid face’.

anyway thank u for the most horny on main ask game q i have Ever been asked tbh like, what are friends for if not This?

#akaclairetemple #dw shit #meme thingy #... if anybody feels like writing any fic #doctor x master #u enable me alma and it's great #yeah the first one is cracky but i want TENDERNESS #i could have made this worse lollll this isn't that bad #but... i might have Said Too Much then u know

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hellyeahheroes · 4 years

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Orphaned: How The New 10s Have FAILED Cassandra Cain

As we approach the end of “the New 10s”, how we came to call this decade (a term I will be using in the common usage, referring to all years with 201X number, not the proper one which ends with 2020), I took a look at one of the characters who I really feel got the short end of the stick through all of it - Cassandra Cain.

There were some good things for the character in the decade. Writers like James Tynion IV, Bryan Edward Hill actually gave her as much respect as they could in given circumstances and she even made her first-ever appearance in animation. However, looking back I cannot say that it has been actually kind time for her . The bad just outweighs the good. I have isolated five reasons why I believe that to be the case.

1. The Erasure

This room is full of New 52 Cassandra Cain stories.

As always, everything boils down to New 52, the reboot that defined the New 10s for DC Comics. A reboot that asked us to assume Cassandra no longer exists and never existed, even if this did not mesh with the supposedly intact, just compressed, Batman continuity. The only writer who seems to have ignored it was Grant Morrison, whose Batman Inc. was caught by the reboot in the middle and seems to exist in a Schrödinger's relationship with two continuities - both part of the old and new DC Universe.

What is worse is that DC editorial has been silently stonewalling writers who wanted to use the character with vague excuses of her supposedly being toxic and little explanation beyond that. Scott Snyder was denied the use of her in Batman and had to create Harper Row as a replacement. Gail Simone’s pitch for a Batgirls book featuring Cassandra, Stephanie Brown and Barbara Gordon was rejected in favor of a solo Barbara book. In which both characters have been banned from appearing. The only exception was the Future’s Ends special, which was literally Simone’s final issue. It feels that this was done due to higher-ups' desire to push Barbara as the One True Batgirl. Which manifested in some of the editorial changes made to the book, like an artist being told, behind Simone’s back, to make a new villain look like Stephanie. Or Batman flat out calling Barbara “Only Good Batgirl” despite this making no sense in a continuity where she is literally the only one to ever use the name. The fact this ended up doing more harm than good to Barbara is a topic for another list like this altogether. The crux of it is, DC did their worst to make people forget Cassandra ever exists and alienate her fans for years, hoping to get rid of them entirely. As the very existence of this article proves, their attempts were less than successful.

2. The Alienation

Once DC actually gave in and allowed Snyder to bring Cassandra back, other problems arose. The first one has come in the form of her new codename - Orphan. That name was supposed to allow her establishing her own identity instead of being defined by Bruce and Barbara. However, this argument seems dishonest when it is an identity previously used by her villainous father. The idea of Cassandra redeeming it has some merit, I admit. But this decision does send a message of her being defined solely by her abuser. It also serves to separate her from the rest of the Batfamily. Originally Cassandra has been portrayed as a member of the group and an adoptive sister to all of Bruce Wayne’s fellow sidekicks. Now it feels like her very name serves to single her out, an orphan among orphans.

This problem is not limited to the title. In general, Cassandra is now written as more isolated from the rest of the Batfamily, excluded from as many things as possible or having her role limited to nothing but a cameo. It has been 5 years and DC did as little as possible to reestablish her relationships with any people she was close with previously. In fact, with characters like Stephanie or Tim Drake, they seem to be betting on fans remembering their bonds from the previous continuity and act like they do not need to put in the work to rebuild them. Even if such measures have been taken for things like the reveal of her mother again. Her relationship with Barbara is as quickly cut as it was reestablished, without giving us anything but one or two scenes that work mostly as a reminder of what the two have lost from old continuity. She is not allowed to form new bonds with major characters either, her interactions with Jason Todd and Damian Wayne being kept to a bare minimum even more than before New 52.

What’s worse is that new connections that she does form end quickly broken and undermined. After a big buildup of her friendship with Harper that girl gets completely written out of Batman comics altogether. Her relationships with Clayface and Batwoman were shattered with the former’s death. Not only that but DC seems entirely unwilling to follow on plot threads like this. It has been over a year by now since Kate was forced to kill Basil to save Cassandra’s life and not a single interaction between the characters seems to be allowed to ever bring that up, despite the effect it should have on both of them. I’ve gotten an impression they aren’t allowed to interact at all anymore, just stand awkwardly next to each other in group shots. Even Cassandra’s currently established bond with Duke Thomas feels constantly undermined by a looming threat he will end the story broken and turned into a villain. All of this sends a message that Cassandra is not a real part of the Batfamily, more a hired muscle than a real member of the group.

Even the relationships with her villains have been taken away from her by simply erasing said villains. The same goes for many characters who once were her supporting cast, like Brenda or Onyx. Even her father had to be killed despite how many great scenes past writers could work out of confronting the two and exploring both how twisted his view of her is and what extent of the damage he has done to her. It gives an impression of outright spite, as if DC only agreed to bring her back at the cost of stripping her away from all interesting story threads.

3. The Jobbing

The less is said about Thomas Wayne vs Entire Batfamily, the better.

One of the problems with Cassandra’s portrayal is jobbing. For those who do not know, jobbing is a term in wrestling where a wrestler is made to lose a fight to put their opponent over with the audience. The bigger the reputation of a certified badass the jobber has, the more likely people are to buy the other guy as a genuine threat. A quote attributed to veteran wrestler Christian goes “If you can make the other guy look good you will always find a job, but you will have to do the job”.

Sadly, since her return, Cassandra has been reduced to a jobber. A character who is known as the best martial arts fighter in the Batfamily, if not in the DC Universe as a whole, is constantly made to lose to make someone else look good. In fact, between 2015 and 2019 the character had literally a single clean victory. By “clean” I mean a fair one on one fight. Every single one of her other victories was immediately being retconned as her opponent holding back (Dick Grayson) or undermined by her having the help of other characters (Lady Shiva, Azrael). Even the one opponent she was allowed to beat, Ismael, was a new character introduced just a few issues prior and his only show of skill to speak of was beating her in a previous fight. Meanwhile, she is constantly made to lose against opponents who have never been shown to possess skills or abilities that could make it believable, like Jason Todd, Helena Bertinelli or Karma. Thomas Wayne, a character whose use of guns was justified as compensation for his horrible hand-to-hand skills, is likely the worst example of them all. Cassandra is allowed to beat unnamed minions, be it Colony soldiers or League of Shadows ninjas. However, these do little to establish her as a force to be reckoned with she once was. After all, every single hero takes down hordes of minions constantly. Overall her status as a great fighter is at this point nothing more but an informed ability and DC has killed all credibility she once had.

There are painful and insulting implications that come along with Cassandra’s jobbing. This is because her skills as a martial artist have always been something she took great pride in and formed a lot of her self-esteem around. She finds comfort and relief from living with her disability in them. Her story is not one of a person “overcoming” their disability or have it nullified by superpowers that comic books are sadly full of. It is a story of a disabled person learning to live with their disability by finding solace in other skills she has and proving herself a true master despite said disability. By making her be beaten by everyone and their mother, DC turned that character arc into a cruel joke. Cassandra who is losing every fight is Cassandra that DC wants you to laugh at. Mock her for being delusional to think disabled people can be heroes and not just helpless victims. An ableist position very in line with a company that erased Barbara Gordon’s disability and history as Oracle, and to this day has editorial personally offended by the idea she could be anything but helpless in a wheelchair. As a result all Cassandra stories since her return just feel mean-spirited.

4. Shiva

Since Cassandra's return, the only two stories to focus on her have been about her mother, Lady Shiva. This has been a larger problem that has existed since Dan DiDio started meddling with the characters. We could see it in a classic story Destruction Daughter as well. There seems to be a desire on an editorial level to repeat and outdo the classic fan-favorite fight between them from Batgirl #25. Which is by many considered the best Cassandra story and the pinnacle of Kelley Puckett's run. But the editorial does not want to simply “top” that fight. They also want to somehow integrate it into a bigger story that ties Shiva with League of Assassins. I mean no disrespect to James Tynion or Bryan Hill or Anderson Gabrych, but none of them managed to truly make it work. The stories, while still well-written, seem to be inherently contrived. And I believe the future attempts will never truly work no matter who is writing them. The whole premise is nonsensical. Shiva that works with Ras Al’Ghul and his League is by definition out of character as the two have no aligning goals to speak of. There is nothing he can offer her and she doesn’t care for his goals. And the idea of sticking with him to fight challenging opponents is undermined by a fact she could get a good fight by simply slaughtering his entire organization. I started comparing this to Street Fighter to easily explain my issue with this. For Shiva to work with Ras makes as little sense as for Akuma to be M. Bison’s lackey. DC is constantly trying to sell to us a story that does not work and then angrily try again when it is not hailed as better than Batgirl #25. It seems that Cassandra has become a means to an end in all of it. That she exists solely to get Shiva over as a minion to a bigger villain she has no good reason to follow in the first place.

This does nothing to make Cassandra less of a jobber either, as Shiva has been stuck in the same position for the entire decade herself and at this point is no more threatening than a Teletubby. Especially if the same stories that are supposed to reestablish Shiva as a threat are the stories where she fights her daughter. It feels like the two characters are trying to each regain their credibility by beating the other one because DC did such a good job of undermining them they wouldn’t be allowed to defeat anyone else.

While I want Shiva to be an antagonistic force in Cassandra’s life and she is a great villain, the way it is done does nothing for either character. Their complex relationship and clashing philosophies don't need to be violent or even physical at all to be compelling. It effectively squanders all potential the two have, seemingly for no other reason than to put Ras Al’Ghul over.

5. No Focus

Some of you may have caught on the prevailing theme of these points. Cassandra is no longer being written as a character in her own right. She is erased or pushed in the background to not overshadow Barbara. Her relationships are not being built upon and her plotlines are being dropped in favor of focusing on other characters. She is isolated from her new family and her membership is undermined even by her own codename. She keeps losing so that villains can look strong and cannot score a victory to not make someone “more important” look weak. She keeps being dragged into fights with Shiva to push Ras Al’Ghul as a bigger deal. She is constantly on team books that are always about other people first.

This pattern speaks for itself. Despite an ever-increasing number of her fans and even writers who adore her, DC does not care about Cassandra Cain. This whole decade the company has shown the only role they see for her is someone used to push characters the editorial wants people to like instead. DC’s treatment of her betrays their arrogance, the belief the editors know better what the fans want than the fans themselves. Sadly it seems to have spilled onto other media as well. From what we know about her appearance in the upcoming Birds of Prey movie, Cassandra is the only character the creators did not care to get right, just somebody to make others look good. This is also why I am not holding my breath for her upcoming appearances in DCeased and Harley Quinn and the Birds of Prey books. At the end of the day these are still not her stories, just someone else’s books she was allowed to be in. Do not get me wrong, I hope we really get this “Cass Renaissance” the fandom is getting excited about. But outside of Shadow of the Batgirl, which will actually be a story about her, I do not trust DC to treat her as more than a glorified prop for other characters. If there is one thing I learned is that you can never expect good things from the Big 2. You can hope for the best and prepare for the worst. But they will very rarely offer you a surprise that is actually pleasant.

- Admin

#Batgirl #Orphan #Cassandra Cain #DC

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randomoranges · 4 years

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drag meeting au part 4

When Edward Murphy finally got home at the end of the day, he let himself fall face first on his bed and groaned deeply into his pillow. How the hell he had managed to find himself in this particular situation was beyond him. The greatest of sitcoms and comedy shows wouldn’t have been able to write a better plot. And yet, here he was.

He rolled onto his back and stared at his ceiling. Here he was, a very successful engineer, living his life to its fullest, openly gay and not afraid of showing it, damnit. He had life in the palm of his hand! He was invited to conferences internationally! He had it made! He was successful! He was at the top of his game! And yet. And yet.

It was at times like these that he regretted his penchant for wanting to dress up in a certain way on the day to day basis. This would have never happened if he’d kept his little side hobby to the weekends only. It wasn’t enough that he was gay and had a penchant for the flamboyant. No, he had to go and stick his nose where it didn’t rightfully belong. He had to complicate his life by wanting to slip into someone else’s shoes during the week as well. And now, here he was in a mess of his own creation.

The remaining logical part of his brain told him that he should just come clean and hope for the best. But therein was the problem – he had no guarantee that the best would even happen. For all he knew, it could end everything – the little fledging of what was starting to be would be squished, trampled on, and destroyed. In a less dramatic scenario, it could – not end in a catastrophe, but whatever chance he’d had could still potentially be done and over with.

The real problem was that he was too much of a coward to confront this hot mess of his and it had been far too long since he’d had something this good going on for him in his personal life. Work had gotten in the way, relationships had come and gone, and – this time, it was nice. He felt a connection, even if the same remaining logical part of his brain told him that it was a sham, a fraud – a lie and that eventually, because it always happened, the truth would come to light and he would be found out. There would be an argument, words would be exchanged and he would have to live the rest of his life with regret as a companion.

The more he waited, the worse it would be. More time would go by.; feelings and trust would be hurt and shattered. He could do some damage control now. Staunch the wound before it bled out, so to say.

Edward hid his face in his hands and yelled out in frustration.

Why couldn’t he ever do things like a normal, regular human being? Why did he always have to go for the dramatic flair and complicate things unnecessarily?

From his bedside table, his phone buzzed loudly, interrupting his self-flagellations and other such thoughts. He reached out for it, grateful for the distraction, but both groaned and grinned when he saw the message.

“I know you said I could text and I hope this isn’t too much, but it was nice seeing you today! I’m looking forward to next week and I hope you have a lovely weekend. :)”

He wondered if it would be wise to respond so soon, if maybe it wouldn’t be more prudent to start putting some distance between the both of them, but – Edward didn’t want to be rude. He’d genuinely enjoyed his meeting and he was really looking forward to their next one, consequences be damned. He had half a thought to maybe not go – stand up the other and take the cowardly way out of it, but that sounded even worse. He would hate for that to happen to him and it would be hypocritical if he did it to anyone else.

“Get it together, Murphy,” He told himself as he tapped out a reply.

“Aren’t you just the charmer. But I’ll let you in on a little secret – I’m kind of bummed my weekend was already filled and I have to wait ‘til next week before I see you again ;)”

That was certainly a little forward of him and not really his style, but it would have to do. It worked and – it wasn’t a lie. He could have made it work for this weekend, but it meant coming clean and he just – wasn’t ready for that confrontation. The lie could go on for another week – just a little extension to his little white lie and then he’d admit to it and beg for forgiveness and a second chance, if clemency could be given to him.

“That is quite the secret you’ve shared with me! Whatever shall I do with this information?”

This was it right there – the real main issue as to why he couldn’t just stop this charade. It was so very easy to talk – they had a bond – an instant connection. He couldn’t be the cause of its end.

“Oh, whatever seems right by you <3 I’m sure you’ll find some good use for it between now and next week.”

This really was out of his usual comfort zone. He wasn’t usually this forward or bold. It was refreshing though. He liked how naturally it came to him. How easy it felt to tap out the words, wondering what the next answer would be – what reactions his words could have incited. How he’d feel reading the responses.

“I most certainly will ;)”

Edward felt his cheeks flush and tried not to read any tone behind those words. Still, he grinned as he kept up his little scam and at the same time, his lovely conversation.

PREVIOUS: III CURRENT: IV NEXT: V

#pc: edmonton #edward murphy #au #ficlet #3 sentence fic meme thing #drag meeting au

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beanzybrandon · 5 years

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First (and Last) Argument with Zion

A/N: In my haste to get this done (meaning I put it off for several weekends and then completed the last half in roughly half an hour) things are a bit messy. Be that as it may, I just want to let you guys know that the behavior exhibited by Z in the fic 1) is obviously fictitious in regards to the man himself and 2) is never okay under any circumstances. If you have a partner who refuses to see the hurt that they’re putting you through and attempts to invalidate you or make you feel as if you’re delusional, DROP THEM. No singular person has the right to make you feel like less than you are. You deserve better.

• ‎Caleb is an exceptionally personable being. Though he's blunt and unafraid of confrontation, he's also extremely fun and a real pleasure to be around. The inherent charm that he possesses is part of the reason you fell for him

• ‎The aura that surrounds him is downright intoxicating and has managed to draw in many people

• ‎Quite frankly, he's the life of the party

• ‎This isn't to say that it's phenomenal to experience first hand, though

• ‎The fact that he is so intoxicating ensures that if he isn't throwing a party of his own, he's been invited to every single one in a 30-mile radius

• ‎This wouldn't be an issue if he didn't fancy boozing it up and dancing with girls he barely knew

• ‎You aren't the type of person to get jealous easily. You know that Caleb is trustworthy and the idea of him sleeping around on you has never been something to cross your mind, but the number of times you've seen him get just a bit too friendly with someone else still hurt

• ‎Not all infidelity is physical

- He made absolutely no effort to stop the girls that approached them, made no move to remove himself from the situation when their hands found purchase on his arm or splayed themselves across his chest.

- Even if nothing intimate had transpired between Caleb and the girls that flirted with him, it was toxic and damaging

• ‎Given that you weren't the type of person to allow yourself to be subject to this type of damage, it was something you chose to address pretty early on

• ‎While you thought you were pretty concise about all of your concerns, Caleb didn't seem to follow

• Of course, things blew out of proportion rather quickly

• ‎It all cooled down just as quickly as it had gotten out of control though, right?

• Of course not

• ‎What you had excepted to be an amicable discussion quickly became a screaming match. Rather than open up his mind and heart, you had inadvertently started a contest where the only prize was walking away knowing one of you had severely damaged the other.

• ‎After a solid fifteen minutes of nearly incoherent screaming, you had been reduced to tears. Your shoulders shook with such ferocity that it would be genuinely surprising if they weren't sore come the morning. You had to stop every so often to collect yourself and keep from choking up

• ‎Despite the difficulties you were having, you pressed forth, hoping that you'd eventually be able to get through to him and that all of this would dissipate

• ‎This wasn't the case, of course. Things were never that easy

• ‎You rake a hand through your hair, biting down on your bottom lip to choke back the sob that threatened to force itself from your lips.

• ‎At this point, walking out and allowing things to cool down on their own seemed like the best thing to do. Reaching the point of no return was something you wanted to avoid at all costs, and if that meant tossing the conversation at hand aside for the time being you were more than willing to do so

• ‎You turned on your heel and started for the room, hoping to escape all the drama that had surfaced, but Caleb was having none of it.

• ‎He'd scoff, shaking his head before starting after you. "You wanna talk this big game and then walk out when things don't go your way?"

• ‎"Leave me alone, Caleb."

• ‎"No. You wanted to talk, let's talk."

• ‎"This isn't talking!" You quip back, voice catching in your throat.

• ‎"No? What would you call it then?"

• ‎"Don't do this. It isn't fair, and you know it."

• ‎"Of course it isn't fair. Me calling you out when you're actin' whack is never fair, right?"

• ‎You whirled to face him, frustration bubbling up within your chest. "You trying to turn all of this against me is what's not fair, Caleb. I'm trying to tell you how I feel and you're-"

• ‎"Telling you that you're acting mad crazy for no reason."

• ‎"I'm not acting cra-"

• ‎"You are! And for what? Because you're insecure? Because the only way you can feel remotely okay with anyone is if you tear them down over some dumb shit that isn't even tr-"

• ‎You cut him off before he could say anything further, a cry of exasperation tearing itself from your throat. "NO. YOU DO NOT GET TO DO THIS TO ME. YOU DON'T GET TO BE MAD AT ME FOR BEING UNHAPPY WITH THE WAY YOU MAKE ME FEEL. YOU CAN'T STAND THERE AND ACT LIKE THIS IS ALL SOME FIGMENT OF MY IMAGINATION."

• "THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT IT IS," Caleb snapped back, stepping closer. "THIS IS NOTHING BUT SOME STUPID MESS YOU MADE UP BECAUSE YOU CAN NEVER JUST BE HAPPY WITH WHAT YOU HAVE."

• ‎"ME? NOT HAPPY WITH WHAT I HAVE? I'M NOT THE ONE GRINDING UP ON PEOPLE I'VE NEVER MET, AM I?"

• ‎Letting out a frustrated groan, his foot connected with the side of the coffee table, shaking the items housed on top of it from their perch. "JUST LET IT GO! IT DOESN'T MEAN ANYTHING!"

• ‎"IT MEANS SOMETHING TO ME, CALEB. WHY CAN'T YOU SEE THAT?"

• ‎"WHY CAN'T YOU SEE THAT YOU'RE ACTING LIKE A SPOILED LITTLE BITCH? NOTHING HAPPENED, HOP OFF OF IT"

• ‎You fell silent, brows knitting together and lips settling into a thin line.

• ‎ The two of you merely stared at each other for a few moments.

• ‎A sense of dread begins to well up in Zion's chest upon noticing that your expression has become unreadable. Your eyes have steeled and no matter how hard he tries, he can't seem to piece together what exactly you might be thinking. He knows he's screwed up, and the way you're choosing to respond to what he said scares him a little bit

• ‎He reaches for you and you jerk away, lips peeling back into a disgusted sneer. "Don't touch me."

• ‎"Baby please," he starts, trying once more. You bat his hand away, spitting a harsh. "I said don't. Get the hell away from me."

• ‎"Y/N, you know I didn't mean that."

• ‎"And you know you did."

• He opened his mouth to speak once more but you were quick to shut him down, raising a hand to silence him.

• ‎"Get out."

• ‎"What?"

• ‎"I said get out, Caleb. I don't want you here anymore."

• ‎"Baby-"

• "Get. Out." You hissed through your teeth. "Go see if one of those bitches will let you sleep on their couch tonight. I'm sure they're a lot more generous than I am."‎

• ‎When he tried to press closer, you planted your hand firmly on his chest, shoving him back. "I said get out! Leave! Now!"

• ‎Falling silent, he allowed his gaze to wander over your face for another moment or so, trying to gauge whether or not you were serious. The hurt and frustration that filled your eyes was answer enough, and without another word, he grabbed his jacket and keys and left.

• ‎Collapsing onto the couch, you grabbed at your hair, tugging so hard your scalp hurt. The pain helped mask the dull ache that had settle in your heart, but not much. Sucking in several deep breaths, you did your best to fight back the tears that had begun to well up in your eyes once more. You didn't want to cry again. He didn't deserve your tears.

• ‎Several minutes passed before that first drop fell, turning a small portion of your jeans a darker shade of blue than they already were. Several more followed suit shortly thereafter, and before you knew it the floodgates had opened once more and you were sniffling, palming at your cheeks to get the moisture off as you tried to rid your mind of the muddled and hurtful thoughts that resided in it.

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spacedimentio · 5 years

Text

Save the Light Impressions

I recently became interested in what Hessonite’s deal was and since it’ll be a long time before I’ll be able to get the game, I decided to just watch a cutscene compilation (this one, if it matters: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jy5tOb3gzLY). Dunno why I’m taking down all my reactions, just cause it’s fun I guess. Enjoy

RIP Car Wash

What even is the prism? It's not a gem, right? But it's clearly got conscious thought, even Hessonite talks to it like a person

haha Greg called her a glittery space lady, accurate

it's a little OOC that Greg wanted to come along. at least he's having fun tho. aww, steven's so proud of him :D

actually, what's Hessonite even doing. Why didn't she fuck off back to space once she found the prism

yeah that's totally not a triforce with six arms or anything. it's not the diamond authority symbol either i don't think, the triangles in that all meet in the middle

Mayor of Bummertown

I would have named the boss Dave, zero hesitation

"Our prism is in another castle!" i love you steb

oh no, bad memory time at Bismuth's forge :( I hope she'll be playable in the next one (i would scream forever if there was a playable diamond)

did Steven really just answer the phone with Myello? Oh IT'S PERI. Aaaand we're learning about RPG mechanics. Meta.

frozen donuts are a thing?! :o

it's her. the square. she seems to be almost identical to how our peridot used to be, so i wonder what the difference in personality is. Aside from her favorite insult being pebble instead of clod

ah yes, ye old tennis match

man i love that you can form fusions in this game

oh lord, i don't wanna imagine what chaos would happen with two peridots. also Greg is taking ice damage during the cutscene, help him

oh no, they're meeting. of course the first thing Squaridot says is "WHY ARE YOU NAKED" (and they obvs flipped her sprite cause the gem's her other eye now)

hey look, new insults for my list of gem related curse words

weird, angry mirror indeed. imagine what they could do if they were friends!

oh RIP. why do you get to choose who murders Squaridot. I hope for more multi-peridot action in the future

wait, what machine did you rip that off of and when

i already knew Peri was playable but it's still cool. i love how she flutters her feet when she jumps! i wonder who the DLC character is going to be (lapis, probably. Bismuth would be metal, though)

"Clod-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named" oh my god i love you

"Whatchu talkin' bout Peri" the best, they're the best

Oh so wow, Hessonite is THE Hessonite, huh. Real famous. If she came out as a Crystal Gem, it would sure cause a stir

Yeah I was also wondering why she's sticking around instead of just leaving? and she is kind of leaving her troops scattered all over the place with no rhyme or reason

these are great names. The Great and Terrible Spikey McSpikeball! of course the guy playing picked the most boring one

i love how Peridot just fucking yeets her tablet to attack

sugilite tiny!

you know, i was gonna get this game anyway at some point, but it's nice to know that it's the kind of rpg i like, one where you can participate in the attacking and blocking process.

how dare you switch out peridot for pearl. you know what, next game i hope you can be everyone all the time cause there's too many good characters to pick from

whatchu doing up here pizza lady

yeah they just...all ran right in front of her directly in her line of vision and she didn't see them somehow

oh the prism is resisting. it really took Steven's words to heart last game

Hess my dear, is this prism your only friend (oh my god that's totally it isn't it)

is the wiki sure she can't teleport cause holy fuck is she fast

"Gugh, Peridot, this is just like when we tried to hunt you down. But worse...cause, y'know, she's actually threatening." rude

huh. i don't remember the pyramid temple blowing up and leaving debris, i thought the whole thing disintegrated cause it was a construct of the gem it was housing. looking at screenshots of Serious Steven it definitely did explode

are they really trying to tell me there was a pyramid under the pyramid and no one noticed

call it the Spooky Basement! call it the Spooky Basement! you disappoint me, player, although Secret Temple of Secrets isn't so bad

*steven rolls cheerfully through a skeleton and then everyone jumps down a big hole* um

yo there's a mural of Rose fighting some light warriors! that's rad as shit!

*gets to the hallway with the torches that turn on as you go by* gee i sure wish i could watch this with sound, but alas i am recovering from ear fatigue and it would be a bad idea.

oh my god he reset her preferences no wonder she's pissed XD

HOLY FUCKING CHRIST RIP AMETHYST AND PERIDOT GODDAMN AND GARNET TOO PIZZA LADY STRONK

wow she really is a genuine threat, she forced Rose and Pearl to give ground back in the day

oh no you did not just say that Pearl should come with you. fuck her up, P!

also i just realized that she is really tall. like 10 feet tall at least

aw no fair you can't just flashbang them all you dink

oh it's sapphire. wait has connie even met ruby and sapphire in the show? did we not get to see it?!

where the fuck even are you guys, i could swear that connie and greg fell off the platform into the abyss

wait, they don't have new forms, did they even regenerate? i don't think connie was out cold for that long. did they even poof? i saw colored clouds of dust but no gemstones. i mean, i know this is a game and all but it's also canon so ???

and peridot is breaking the fourth wall by commenting how you can't force her to sit at home at the moment

ancient thingamajig. wow is thingamajig a real word, my spellcheck is not yelling at me about it

yeah connie! kick her ass for me!

since when are gems into riddles. i wonder if anyone has made much headway into translating the written gem language yet, last i heard they hadn't made much progress. apparently only Steven Sugar knows what all the symbols mean

wait steven was watching connie and greg's parties running around that whole time? i guess even the game never leaves steven's POV. where even is he, in the prism realm? oh, the place was turning pink for a minute until he went towards the sparkly thing

steven is always accessing memories isn't he. at least these aren't his mom's this time

you might be getting sick of her steve but i'm sure not!

from far away it really looks like she's chillin' with a martini glass and i was about to scream

corruption beam :(

was he just like passed out on the floor somewhere hallucinating

aww, he picks up the light steven exp by hugging it :o

"Just feeling a little...light headed." i...puns?

the Light Warrior is the final boss of the first game right? ...i should have probably watched a video about that one first

oh i just had a thought! if they make a third one then we get to have Rainbow 2.0 and Sunstone and Obsidian in it! :D

woah, trippy. tbh steven's connection to the prism is kind of strange. i wanna know exactly where that thing came from and why it's so deeply connected to him now. did Hessonite have visions like this when it was hers?

yeah that's... if a place is connected by warp pad, wouldn't it be easy to find by just warping randomly? unless separate warp networks are a thing but still, you'd just have to sneak onto a CG warp pad and go. ....how do warps even work, they can go through roofs and stuff and there's like this whole other dimension with all the warps like stars in the background and ???

how does the forge even do an upgrade with no Bismuth. maybe i should stop trying to fit this into canon details

what makes you think Hessonite could see you? is this some Voldemort Harry Potter connection shit. is that actually how she found the forge, this game ain't explain much

oh that's...that's a big oof. bismuth was working on a huge-ass statue of Rose before they got into their argument

"i saw her again" what no you didn't, that was just a white screen with a text box

"Beats me how any of this whacky prism stuff works!" ...i feel called out

why does that bigger spaceship look like a funky piece of headwear to me

well, at least it's closer than the moon

oh what, Lion didn't come with you? didn't you need multiple roar warps to get to space last time, just above the earth still seems kind of far, also how did he know the coordinates of the ship, he could have easily sent them all into the void

?! and then he's there?!? already asleep? how???????

aww what you're going to tease me with a citrine guard but not let me see her?

freaky. strangely organic looking technology is nothing new but i don't think i've seen stuff oozing through it before

"Look at you, acting as though you have the moral high ground!" *shakes fist angrily* She's like Emerald, but better! I can't

i guess he did kind of steal it, but it was more like finders keepers really

whuh has the prism always been able to talk?

"a Prism" oh no are there more? probably

woah that's a big boy. What the heck does Spectral Conclusion mean. and the prism is inside it instead of it being a separate creation, interesting

aww, it's looking at itself in confusion. Steven reaches out to it with his words, as he does

the prism isn't really...doing a lot of attacking (cause the player is picking the right choices probably). oh nevermind, it has a hugely damaging rainbow cannon

/r/murderedbywords, except in a good way

"Destroy Steven!" huh since when does she know his name? she could have gotten it from several places, really

oh oh oh! it's pizza time! standing in the middle of them is probably not the best idea, but look at her, she's exuding confidence!

wait wait wait, when the player used a healing move, did i just see an option to heal the prism? or at least, it's health bar showed up. is it gonna help later?

can i have like, a full sprite sheet for Hessonite please and thanks

if this was in the show, steven would be dead from that hit

aaand Steven did two points of damage with his shield bash, she ain't even flinch

pearl what are you doing

wow, she also only did a few points of damage

is Hess like, super tough. i love how much of a threat she is, cause most Homeworld gems we've seen aren't all that scary

oh! oh! you can heal the prism! that's probably how you damage her cause you'd be here forever chipping away otherwise

HOLY FUCK, SHE JUST DID 270 POINTS OF DAMAGE, THAT'S LITERALLY ALL OF SUGILITE'S HEALTH. I know the wiki says that attack does massive damage but jeezus!

so far the prism hasn't done anything, they're just chipping away at her slowly

oh, so gems do poof in this game. i guess we're just ignoring new forms because it wouldn't make sense in the timeline if we didn't

huh, does pearl inflict burns in this game? oh and she shoots fireballs, guess that answers my question.

it's kind of sad that the status is doing more damage than everyone else combined

whuh, she just attacked the prism! RUDE.

stop beating up the prism you degenerate! i guess i shouldn't be shocked

hey, Garnet and Amethyst are alive again. ah finally, some damage now that Garnet's lowered her defense

A-Amethyst, you're facing the wrong way. i wish Hess had targeted her with her big attack, then i could have made an "oh no she has airpods in" joke

oh, but the player formed Smoky, so she's not even aiming at anyone in particular anymore lol. she went for Pearl tho, fuckin' eviscerated

is this battle normally this long, it's been almost 10 minutes

this battle would probably be much harder if she didn't waste her turn being a bitch and attacking the prism. gee, and you wonder why it doesn't want to listen to you after encountering steven's kindness. i wonder...what would happen if you let the prism's HP get to zero? it would take a long ass time but...now i really wanna know but i doubt there’s any videos about it!

garnet's rocket fist did damage to the prism cause Hess is standing next to it. c-can you attack the prism, is that how you get the bad ending??

man, they haven't even had to heal because she's just beaten up on that poor thing for the past 10 turns. i mean, really, she could easily murder all of them in a heartbeat if she wanted

ok finally, she is defeato. I'd feel more sad for you if you didn't abuse your subordinates (definitely has detracted from my liking of her, i won't be too hard on her for it though because Homeworld is bad like that and she doesn't know better). at least you’re good at eating your humble pie without complaint

oh, i guess you get to choose your ending? it's kind of weird that it's not like, influenced by your game choices. cause technically like this it's your choice, not the prism's choice. so what was with the prism having health then. was it just to show how awful Hessonite is to it?

also, i can't look at light Steven without thinking of Pink!Steven and hhhhh

"You're a wise creature, aren't you?" Yes, yes he is *nods sagely* I hope you come back someday to learn more from him

You're pretty adaptive, huh Hess? of course, if you've been having these thoughts and feelings for thousands of years you're probably not too shaken up by the realization that they're true. That’s actually pretty great of you to want to figure yourself out.

ha, so Garnet didn't let her leave like the wiki made it sound like, she just yeeted away, and good luck catching anyone who can move at 5 million miles per hour

the gems are running in place in the next scene and Amethyst is backwards again. connie is also facing the wrong way. ...this game's a bit jank, isn't it :P not that i mind, a little jank is fun!

Peridot breaking the fourth wall with her Are Pee Gee again. I wonder which one it is. Golf Quest Mini?

do you get anything for 100 percenting this? oh, i guess there's achievements. no bonus content tho?

Lapis: I think I could use a break.

i for one would like to know what book the prism was reading. also, it's back to not talking again.

AWW YIS! We goin' out for pizza tonight bois!

The gems finally get to stop running in place in the corner

aaww, it's a beach scene reminiscent of the opening. kind of weird that greg is the only one animated but still cute

also someone's last name is Gooch and i feel bad for them

alright now to google Hessonite's VO... Christine Baranski. Are-Are we just hiring broadway singers for everyone now? not only would I die if Hessonite made an appearance in season 6, my soul would reach the farthest realms of space if she sang a song on top of that.

well, that's a wrap! time to jot down all of Hess's dialogue for later reference! It’s a crime that there’s so few fanfics about her, she actually has a lot of potential!

#steven universe #save the light #hessonite #su #reaction #liveblog

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ofheroesandvillains · 6 years

Text

Together - Steve Rogers

Words: 4.2k Warnings: None, Steve x Reader - never written Steve before! Summary: This takes place during Civil War, and it’s actually something I wrote just after CW was released which is why it’s set during the movie. Nothing too special (pretty boring actually haha), but I hope you like it anyway!

P.s. I know the extra scene where Bucky is put in the cryostasis chamber (possibly) happens after Steve’s prison break, but for the sake of this story, we’ll pretend that it happens before.

(Gif not mine!)

Lagos had been a bittersweet disaster.

Yeah, they got their guy. Rumlow was definitely not surviving this time ‘round, but at what cost? Civilians had died, many more were injured and there was no doubt about it…it was on them this time. There was no alien invasion, or robot army, this time the Avengers had done the most damage just by trying to limit the damage in the first place.

Had Wanda not contained the explosion on the ground, many more would be dead, but the people didn’t see it that way. Had Rumlow gotten away with a biological weapon, many more would be dead. But the people didn’t see it that way. Instead, they were questioning just what business the Avengers had on foreign soil, and why they thought the rules didn’t apply to them. Wanda was receiving the most criticism.

The young Sokovian was holed up in her room, switching between the different news stations as if punishing herself for her mistake. That was where Steve found her, and after what he hoped was a reassuring chat, Vision had informed them of Tony’s arrival with Secretary Ross.

It wasn’t good.

He knew Ross would only be there for a reason, and none of the ones he had come up with were very optimistic. Like a mob of angry villagers, the world was out for blood, and the authorities had to make the people happy. So he took a moment to think, barely paying any attention to Wanda and Vision leaving the room as he sat in silence.

“You okay?”

The soft voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and despite the fact that he hadn’t smiled since the incident, Steve found himself sending you an unconvincing smile. You were leaning on the doorway to Wanda’s room, brows furrowing in concern when you noticed the super-soldier was still there.

“Yeah…” He cleared his throat, before answering again, with more strength this time. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

You frowned, pushing off of the door frame and taking a seat beside him. You trusted him to tell you if something was wrong, but he was the type of person to take on the burden so that no one else had to. He knew you could see through him, you were too smart not to. It was one of the many things he admired about you, how you cared for those around you in your own way.

You didn’t have super-strength, you couldn’t shoot an arrow more than a few metres in front of you, you couldn’t fight with the technique of a seasoned assassin, you didn’t have a suit of high-tech armour, and from what he knew, you didn’t have any incredible mutations or god-like powers.

You were human. An expectional human with a big heart, but a human nonetheless. You were kind, and considerate, and the voice of reason when you needed to be. You helped your friends however you could, and it didn’t matter to anyone that you weren’t a ‘hero’ like they were (even though he would argue against it). You kept them sane, and that was arguably a more important job than anything else.

“If I didn’t know you as well as I do, then I might just believe that.”

Steve smiled half-heartedly, shaking his head slightly while he tried to gather his thoughts.

“I just- I feel like I’m letting her down, you know? I take them into these situations, and when something goes wrong I should be the one taking the blame...”

“Hey, come on now…” You trailed off, your tone imploring. “That’s an awful lot of responsibility for anyone to handle. Super-strength be damned, even you can’t carry it all on your shoulders, Steve.”

Your hand rubbed soothing circles onto his back, like a mother would do for a child, and he found his lips quirking up slightly at the thought.

“Yeah, maybe…but I feel like I’m supposed to.”

You sighed quietly at his words, hand slipping from his back to return to your lap.

“Well, you shouldn’t.”

He cocked a brow at your confident response.

“Look, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this place is full of extraordinary people.” You shot him a half-smile. “People who, for whatever reason, have decided to help the world in whatever way they can. But Steve, the moment they make that decision, is the moment they accept responsibility for their own actions.”

“Things go wrong in your line of work so often, that one man can’t be held accountable for it all. The team knows that, they accept that they’ll make mistakes, and they are strong enough to carry the weight of those mistakes for themselves. I mean look at Tony…” They shared a small chuckle.

“That man has taken 20 years off my life with all of the trouble he gets into, but for every mistake he makes, you can bet your ass he works hard to right his wrongs.”

“I’ll never figure out how you always know what to say.” Steve smiled genuinely, finally allowing himself to look at the woman who had come to mean so much to him in the past two years.

You almost snorted. “Well, when you spend your whole life around a Stark, you learn what to say real quick.”

Steve laughed, and you ignored the way your heart sped up at the sound. The fact that he had a smile on his face was good enough for you, it meant that you had done your job right. Unfortunately, you knew it would likely be wiped off very soon. He had a meeting with Thaddeus Ross after all.

Unsurprisingly, You were right.

As soon as the Ross had left, the team had made their way out of the conference room and upstairs into the lounge, a dark and depressing cloud hanging over their heads despite the half-hearted smiles you received in greeting.

Tony had absentmindedly strode past you as if he were in some kind of trance, and you knew he was thinking hard about something. Whatever Ross said to them had clearly struck a cord, and you didn’t know if you wanted to know just what it was.

The silence didn’t last long, the group broke out into an argument that you hadn’t seen coming. It had been a while since there was such a clear divide between so many members of the team. Sure, they’d bicker every now and then, but this was different. From what you could gather, Ross wanted them to sign some sort of document –The Accords- but not everyone agreed with the idea.

Personally, you didn’t know what to think.

The Avengers did what they had to do in order to keep the majority safe. Most of the time it wasn’t even their own fault!

New York – That was S.H.I.E.L.D’s mess. Had they not drawn Loki to Earth by tampering with the Tesseract, then they could have avoided that whole fiasco. Hell, the damn government wanted to nuke the whole city and The Avengers were the problem for saving all of those innocent people? The only reason Loki failed was because of the them.

Washington D.C. – Steve, Sam and Natasha were the only Avengers even involved when the Triskelion went down, and yet again, they had saved millions of people that HYDRA would have targeted had they not intervened. You knew this first hand, considering it was the first time you had met Steve.

Sokovia – Okay, maybe that one was on them…

Lagos – It was an unfortunate turn of events that was still rattling the team due to its recency, but had Rumlow made it out with a biological weapon, how many more would have died?

You knew that the Avengers weren’t perfect, they made their mistakes and now they had to own up to them…you just thought that they weren’t the only ones who had mistakes to own up to.

But they all did bring up some convincing arguments, and you could see how hard it all hit Tony as soon as he mentioned Charlie Spencer. Still, you were wary of them giving the government any control over their actions. Were they not the ones who got them into most of the messes they had to clean up? Of course, they were also quick to point the finger at Earth’s mightest heroes as soon as it was all over.

Slowly, each one of them excused themselves from the room, the first being a troubled Steve whose gaze was glued to his phone as he left. You were left alone with your closest friend, and you could see that he was still tense. Tony was the type who needed to vent it all at once as soon as he reached his limit, and apparently he wasn’t done just yet.

“What about you?”

Your brows rose in question.

“Do you think signing is a good idea?” You knew what he was really asking. Am I doing the right thing?

It was reassurance he needed, but if there was one thing he valued, it was your honesty. And you would never avoid the truth to simply make life easier for the both of you.

“Honestly? I don’t know, Tony.” You sighed. “I understand what the concern is, but who’s going to hold the government accountable? They can pretend all they want, but you know they’re using you as scapegoats.”

“So you agree with Cap then?” There was something in his tone that made it sound like he knew you would say that. And he didn’t sound too happy about that.

“I guess…I mean, maybe?” You bit your lip in thought.

“And is that your head or your heart talking?” Tony cocked a brow, hip leaning against the countertop as he watched you frown.

“Excuse me?”

“What? You think I didn’t notice your little crush on boy wonder? How long’s it been, 2, 3 years?” Tony asked condescendingly as he crossed his arms.

It was true, but the way he was talking about it made it seem like a pathetically childish infatuation rather than what you knew to be feelings developed after two long years of bonding. You loved Steve, of that you were certain, and for some reason, Tony’s words reminded you that average you didn’t stand a chance with extraordinary Steve.

It had been years, if it hadn’t happened by now, it probably never would.

“You know what, Tony? I wasn’t in Sokovia when that boy died. I’m not an Avenger and I definitely don’t need you taking out your guilt-driven frustrations on me. So until you all sort yourselves out, I’ll be at home.”

After turning on your heel, you stormed out of the room, much like the rest of the team had. Only this time it bothered Tony more. He never got into serious arguments with you, you understood him like no one else (well, other than Pepper) and he always trusted you to keep him on the right path. You had a good head on your shoulders and he realised too late that he needed it now more than ever.

“Come on, Y/N…Y/N!” He called after you regretfully.

The elevator doors slid shut, and Tony’s shoulders slumped in defeat. Two of his favourite women walking out on him in the space of a month, that must have been a record.

You tried to not let your thoughts and insecurities get to you on the ride down to the lobby. You didn’t enjoy fighting with Tony, but if he thought your judgement was skewed because of your feelings then you’d leave them to sort it out on their own.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y?”

“Yes, Y/N?” The AI chirped.

“Tell Happy to ready the jet.”

“Where to?”

“Malibu.”

The last time you were this worried about the team was coincidentally the last time you had been on that particular aircraft. You still remembered the anxiety that flooded the room as you and Pepper watched the Ironman carry a nuclear bomb through a worm hole. A similar sense of dread had settled in your stomach, and you knew nothing good would come of it.

You were right to worry.

Just a day after you had arrived at your Malibu home, you were curled up on your couch, gaping at the scenes on the evening news. A bombing in Vienna where the Accords were meant to be signed. A king was killed in the blast, and you realised that it was truly a difficult time for the Wakandan people. Not only had their people died in the chaos in Lagos, but to lose such a wise and respected leader…it was a tragic day for the nation.

The news only got worse from there, with Steve’s old friend –Bucky- being the prime suspect. It was difficult to argue considering his picture was plastered all over the world as CCTV footage. You thought it was odd, that an assassin as accomplished as the Winter Soldier, one who had avoided detection for so long, would not only bomb a UN meeting (when he was supposedly in hiding), but would also be careless enough to get caught. Something was off about this whole situation.

You didn’t think things could go further south than that, but life proved you wrong. The only thing worse than seeing your friends fight off alien armies, or robot armies for that matter, was seeing them fight each other.

The carnage left behind in Leipzig would only be used as another example of why the Accords were the answer to the current problem, but even you knew that this went deeper than that. The Avengers would bicker every now and then, but physically fighting each other was not something to take lightly.

It terrified you, knowing that something was seriously wrong. Steve and Tony used to argue all the time, but you never would have anticipated an argument leading to this.

For the first time since you had left the Tower, you regretted your decision to do so. You had no idea what was happening, only that Steve was a fugitive and his friend Bucky along with him.

The only thing you could do now, was hope that they were all safe and pester Tony for information as soon as he returned to the States.

“You are certain that this is a good idea, Captain?”

Steve smiled half-heartedly at the Prince’s –soon to be King’s- concern.

“Actually, I think it’s one of my worst ideas yet.” He sighed. “But it’s the only one I’ve got.”

T’Challa nodded in understanding. He wished he could do more to help, but his hands were tied in this matter. The Captain’s friends, while honourable and loyal, were currently criminals, and Wakanda could not be involved in such things. However, he had offered them refuge should the Captain succeed in his mission. T’Challa had felt guilty for hunting an innocent man (at least when it came to his father’s murder), and to make up for his own actions, he had allowed the man –James Buchanan Barnes- to remain in Wakanda during his recovery.

“In that case, I wish you luck and safe travel.” T’Challa bowed his head in respect and returned the smile that Steve sent him.

Steve strapped himself into the jet. He had no idea how to fly it, but Shuri had reassured him that he would need to touch a single thing, and if something did go wrong, she’d be able to deal with it from her lab. The girl was a genius, and even though he still hadn’t come around to relying on technology like the rest of the world, he trusted her word.

“I really can’t thank you enough, Your Highness.”

T’Challa slowly waved a dismissing hand, his lips quirking up reassuringly. “You are always welcome in Wakanda, Captain.”

Steve knew it was risky, crossing into American borders when he was very much on Ross’ ‘Wanted’ list. The reflection panels on his aircraft combined with whatever else Shuri had installed to avoid detection, had done their job well. At least he assumed they had, he hadn’t been shot out of the sky so that was a positive.

Despite the risk he took by just being there, Steve couldn’t help the small smile that settled on his face. It hadn’t been too long, maybe two weeks, but he missed you. He missed your level head and reassuring smile, your kind heart and soothing presence. He missed all of you.

Steve regretted not saying goodbye to you before he left, but the news of Peggy’s death had overpowered any other thought he had at the time. She was the final remanant of his old life, Bucky was no longer the man he used to be and that was okay. But Peggy was a reminder of his old life, because as much as Steve denied it, he too had changed in time.

In the 40s he was going up against Nazis, the enemy in everyone’s eyes. This time he had gone up against the supposed ‘good guys’ to save someone they only knew as an enemy assassin. He was no longer the Captain America of the 1940s, he didn’t want to be a perfect soldier, he wanted to be a good man. Never had Erskine’s words been more suitable than now. This had been his biggest test yet, and he had chosen to do the right thing, even if it meant going against his orders.

Nobody else saw it that way, but he knew you would. Peggy had once told him that sometimes the best you could do was to start over, and this felt like a good place to begin.

He was surprised at the lack of security, but didn’t question it. If anyone knew how to stay safe, it was you. You had plenty of experience, a fact that made Steve frown.

It was relatively quiet, only the distant sound of waves interrupted the silence, and for a moment he wondered if you had gone back to New York. He didn’t get much time to think on it before a small camera-looking device quickly darted down from the ceiling above the front door. The tech whirred as a blue laser scanned him up and down.

“Captain Steven Grant Rogers. Access granted.”

The front door swung open on its own, the little camera snapping back behind the panel of the ceiling.

Steve stepped inside cautiously, noting the silence once more. Years of experience had taught him to be wary of the silence. You were in less danger when you knew someone was firing at you, than you were not knowing if someone was about to fire at you.

“Steve?”

His head snapped around at the sound of your voice, brows shooting up in surprise when he realised that you had snuck up on him of all people. Any comment he was going to make died in his throat when he noticed your wet hair and the towel tightly wrapped around your body.

You were apparently too relieved to care about his frozen state, running at him so quickly he barely had time to catch you as you threw your arms around him. Tony hadn’t given you any of the details, but you knew something happened in Siberia. Something big. It wasn’t like Tony to keep things from you, so you knew it must have been significant.

All you had heard, was that Steve was gone along with his old friend, and not to expect him back any time soon. You almost had a panic attack by that point, so seeing him now -in the flesh- was a welcome surprise.

“You’re here…”

Steve’s own arms tightened around you. He knew you were thinking out loud, but you sounded so relieved – so happy to see him. He assumed that Tony would have told you all about their current situation, and maybe he had…but Steve doubted it. There was no way you’d be as welcoming if that were the case. So he hugged you, knowing that it may be the last time he’d get the chance to do so.

“I take it this isn’t a social call…” Steve’s grip weakened as you finally pulled away slightly to look up at him.

You didn’t know how to feel about the fact that he may have only returned just because he needed something from you, and not because he wanted to see you as much as you wanted to see him.

Steve frowned slightly. “Not entirely a social call…but I wanted to see you.” He softly added, eyes darting down to the floor nervously.

You shot him a small smile. “Come on, I have a feeling we have a lot to talk about.”

Steve returned your smile with a matching one of his own, and let you lead him over to the living room.

“That’s…I mean…hmm.”

You paced in front of the couch that Steve occupied, with a small frown. After finally realising your near-naked state, you had remembered to put on some clothes. After awkwardly excusing yourself, Steve had mentally tried to figure out how best to go about telling you everything.

Needless to say, his plan had gone straight out the window, and the craziness of the past month had come pouring out of him faster than either of you expected. The good news was that you didn’t seem too angry with him.

“So, you need help with a prison-break.” You sat down beside the super-soldier.

Steve’s eyes shot over to meet your own and he sighed. “I’m really sorry about this, Y/N…I’d never ask if there was any oth-”

“Steve.” You cut him off with a chuckle. “Relax. It’s no problem. Don’t forget that I have friends locked up too.”

“Right.” He smiled, nodding sheepishly.

“Besides, I care about you.” You shrugged in a forced display of nonchalance, but his heart fluttered at your words. “You don’t ever have to worry about asking me for something, Steve. I think we’ve been friends long enough to-“

You froze, completely stunned when he cut you off with a kiss. His lips moulded to your own in a way that would put even Tony’s skills to shame, and had you not been distracted, you probably would have wonder just when he got so good at kissing. Your fingers were trailing across his shoulders, down his arms, along his neck.

The further they travelled, the louder he could hear his heart beat in his own ears. He wondered if you were experiencing something similar. One of his large hands cupped your face, his thumb under your jaw to tilt your head up, while the other was slowly making its way up and down your back.

The world seemed to stand still when he finally pulled away, resting his forehead against your own.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t- I just…I had to do that,” he whispered, “at least once.”

“Me too.” He looked at you in surprise, relieved when you shot him an affectionate smile. But his heart quickly dropped, and you noticed the shift in his demeanor.

“What is it?”

“You know I can’t stay here…” He sighed, thumb trailing across your cheekbone slowly. He never thought he’d regret kissing you, but the last thing he wanted to do was give you false hope when he was in his current situation.

 “We don’t have to.”

“We?” Steve cocked a brow in amusement and your eyes widened a fraction.

“I-I mean…only if that’s something you want.” His gaze softened fondly when you trailed off quietly.  He’d give more than he was willing to admit to have you by his side, but he cared about you too much to put you at risk.

“I do. I really do…” You met his gaze hopefully. “But I can’t ask you to do that for me.” Steve shook his head, hand slowly slipping from your cheek. You caught it, clasping it in your own.

“You’re not. I’m offering.”

“Y/N…” Steve sounded uncertain. 

“Say yes.” You whispered against his lips, and he had to close his eyes to regain his composure. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed.

“Where would we go?”

“Wherever you want.” You replied with a quiet eagerness. He was entertaining the idea, and that was a positive in your mind.

Steve finally opened his eyes, knowing what he should say, but the words out of his mouth were anything but what he should have said. He never would have been so selfish in the past, he never would have dragged anyone he cared about with him – especially when he was a wanted man.

He wanted to be selfish with you, and that worried him. But when you looked at him like that, how could he not?

“You know Tony’s gonna kill me, right?”

He was already on thin ice where the billionaire was involved, and he knew that Tony wouldn’t hesitate in hunting him down himself if he thought he was putting you in harms way.

You shrugged with a small laugh. “We’ll give him some time to cool down before I let him know. It’s not like I won’t be coming back for birthdays and Christmas anyway.”

“It won’t be easy,” he warned, “I’m not sure where we’ll end up. I don’t want you to regret this.”

It was a half-hearted attempt to change your mind and you both knew it. He wished he could give you a proper relationship - something he had been avoiding for years. But that was no longer an option, and he didn’t want to lose you because he could no longer offer that normalcy.

“Steve, there’s nothing to regret. Wherever we end up, we’ll end up there together, and that’s good enough for me.”

He smiled at your response, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Alright.”

You perked up. “Alright? As in ‘yes’?”

He chuckled bashfully.

“Yes.”

And with a final kiss to your smiling lips, he reminded himself that he’d have all the time in the world with you when he got back. For now, he had a team to save.

A/N: let me know if you see any mistakes, and I’ll have a new chapter of ‘I Needed You’ out soon!

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #Steve Rogers #civil war #Avengers #tony stark #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america x you

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hey-mando · 7 years

Text

When (Gaston x Reader)

Word Count: 1,943 Warnings: None A/N: Ugh life is busy sometimes guys. Sorry for the hiatus, but ya girl is back now, so there’s a whoop. This was actually the first one-shot I ever wrote for Gaston, and I just found it again today and realized that this shiz ain’t half bad. SO HERE YA GO. Agains, apologies for being inactive. Missed ya'll ❤️

Tags: (guys my Tumblr did a glitch and deleted the draft that I had my tag list saved on, so I lost all of that info. If you wanna be re-added to the new list and get tagged on all my future writings, just shoot me an ask)

Villeneuve was an immensely small village, so to say that news of something was all over town wasn’t a particularly impressive statement to make. But this time it was different. This time, what had started as the harmless ravings of a delusional lunatic had turned into something very real, and the fear, anger and intensity was spreading through the villagers like wildfire.

There was a beast hidden away in an ancient castle, deep inside the gnarled woods that skirted the town’s edge. According to several members of the steadily growing mob, the creature had already driven poor old Maurice crazy, and placed a powerful bewitchment on Belle, Maurice’s daughter, who also happened to be one of your closest friends. This beast was a dangerous, rabid enigma, and the people of Villeneuve tended to fear that which they didn’t understand. But this wasn’t just fear. This was flat out panic. After all, none of you were safe until he was dead. He was a viscous monster who would wreak havoc on the village if he was allowed to wander free.

This was the mindset of all in the town…except you. In your mind, there was nothing to worry about. Up until today when Belle had presented proof of the beast’s existence, no one had even known that he existed. He had never brought any harm to your small corner of the world before, so why would he start now?

But attempting to present that argument to the mob of Frenchmen would be pointless now. That being said, it was a given that your say in the matter was nonexistent. The only thing to be done now was either to grab the nearest pitchfork, or say a prayer for those who already had. No point in wasting your breath trying to sway such a mass. Better to use that breath to say your goodbyes. Which was exactly what you were trying to do.

The night was starless and black. The air was humid and flooded with the sound of a hundred voices, all shouting over one another and pouring into a steady rumble of rage. Washed in the glow of their torches, the faces of the usually peaceful townspeople looked twisted and savage, like an army of demons.

The display around you was dizzying.There had never been so much action transpiring at one time in the small hamlet. The atmosphere was woven with fibers of hatred and chaos, and the mood was so out of place in Villeneuve that the scene surrounding you felt more like some nightmarish dream than reality.

Trying to make your way through the crowd was a nightmare in itself. You had already been poked and scratched by multiple axes and pitchforks, the hems of your dress were torn due to the amount of times they’d been trampled under the stampede of boots, and your hair was so mussed that it would’ve made for a quite suitable bird’s nest. Nevertheless, you had simply one ambition: to find the leader of this insane venture. The one who, never shy of danger, had unhesitatingly spearheaded the entire operation. And the only man in town who’s safety you were genuinely concerned with, as heartless as it sounded.

After nearly an hour of searching, you were beginning to get annoyed and even a little scared. There were only so many places that he could be, and right at the moment when you were starting to fear that you’d already looked everywhere -

“(Y/N)!”

Your head jerked, recognizing the voice instantly. Turning in a circle, squinting at the blur of faces you called back, “LeFou! Where are you?”

“Over here!” Came the reply from behind you. You wheeled, catching a glimpse of his flushed face among the bustling scrim. Without hesitation, you gathered your skirt into your hands, hiked it to your knees, and made a bolt towards the fountain in the middle of the square where you’d spotted LeFou. When you reached the large stone sculpture, you jumped onto it just as he did the same, catching each others forearms as you balanced between the bubbling water on one side and the raging sea of bodies on the other.

“(Y/N), I’ve been looking all over for you!” LeFou exclaimed, completely winded. His face was the color of a ripe pomegranate, and he appeared to be feeling woozy. “LeFou, this is utter madness!” you shouted, gripping his arm as he swayed. “Tell me about it!” he returned. “Monsieur D’Arque has Maurice and Belle on their way to the asylum, and even the jail has been emptied to increase our numbers. Sometimes I have to wonder if my best friend really is crazy!”

Best friend. At those words your muscles tensed, remembering why you were wading through this mess in the first place.

“Where is he, LeFou?” you asked loudly. LeFou’s eyebrows shot up as if he had also remembered something. “Ah, yes, that’s why I’m here! He sent me to find you and bring you back!”

You paused, then nodded, your jaw clenching. “Take me to him!” LeFou didn’t have to be asked twice. Keeping your grip on each other firm, you leapt back down into the streets and began shouldering your way along. With every second that passed the urgency seeped in like a black ink stain on white cloth. Who knew what awaited the minuscule army of farmers and shopkeepers on their way to the enchanted castle. For all any of them knew, they might never return to their homes and families. By daylight, the village could be in mourning, double the widows and fatherless children.

You were jerked from your thoughts by a group of men standing in the doorway of the tavern, bows in their hands. “Monsieur LeFou!” one of them called, bringing LeFou to an abrupt halt. He flinched, his eyes shifted nervously as he replied, “That would be me…” Then, offhandedly to you he whispered, “Oh goodness knows what they want now.”

With reluctance LeFou spun to you and said, “I guess this is goodbye for now, (Y/N). I’ll see you when we get back…hopefully.”

You frowned and embraced him briefly. “See you then, LeFou.”

The man nodded, then pointed towards the stables that stood at the end of the cobblestone street. “He’s waiting for you there.”

You nodded your thanks, then LeFou withdrew and scurried towards the tavern. You ignored the small notion that this might be the last time you ever saw the witty man, shoving it out of your mind as you spun on your heel and dashed towards the stables. However through some tangle of missteps, you found yourself being spun helplessly by the churning tides of the mob, this way and that until your head spun and you couldn’t distinguish up from down.

At that moment you felt a large hand on your arm, and with a shriek you were tugged to the side out of the crowd, rather ungracefully stumbling through the door of the stables. Consequently you wound up tripping as the darkness swallowed you, and if it hadn’t been for the solid chest and strong arms you tumbled into, you would’ve been flat on the ground. You tilted your head up to see glinting eyes staring back at you.

“You just can’t seem to stop falling for me, can you, love?” the man said smugly. Had it been any other day, you would’ve promptly informed him that he’d merely tripped you, but every second counted, and it was foolish to wast away your time with pointless banter.

You managed to find your feet, and as soon as you did you gave his chest a shove, which didn’t move him an inch, but was helpful for emphasis. “Oh you idiot, Gaston, what have you gotten yourself into now?”

Gaston’s dark eyes continued to sparkle as his lips drew into that legendary smirk. “Well, I’m not quite sure, but judging by our current position, it’s something that I rather enjoy.”

You rolled your eyes and tried not to take notice of his hands sliding around your waist. “Not this, Gaston,” you rebuffed in an obvious tone. “That.” You stressed the word by pointing a finger towards the open wooden door at the fiery riot outside. Gaston didn’t spare a glance towards the place you indicated, keeping his gaze intently on yours. “That is merely what a hundred or so passionate Frenchmen on the way to fight for their freedom looks like,” he answered simply.

You gaped at him. Honestly by now you should be used to Gaston’s eccentric behavior, yet every day he still managed to surprise you. Sometimes it was good thing. Other times - like now - not so much. “What freedom?” you hissed back. “Gaston, this beast or whatever has done nothing to us but leave us in peace. Why go marching into a battle that doesn’t even exist -”

“Because, (Y/N), how long do you think it will last?” Gaston countered, a bit of his lightness melting away. He now looked a rather stern. “Would you ignore a spark in a barn full of hay because it wasn’t doing any damage at the moment?”

You bit your lip, shifting your weight and bringing your hands to rest on Gaston’s arms. You shook your head.

“Exactly,” he said softly. “We would be nothing but foolish to ignore such a blatant danger to Villeneuve simply because it posed no immediate threat.”

“I understand, I just…I’m…” your cheeks heated insufferably. “I don’t want you to get hurt. You have to stay safe, that’s the only way I’m allowing you to go off on this crazy hunt.”

Gaston chuckled quietly and used his grip around your waist to abruptly pull you flush against him. You gasped at the unexpected action as he said slowly, “Don’t worry, my dear. Look who you’re speaking to.”

You raised an eyebrow, allowing your hands to settle on his neck. “Of course, how could I forget. No one hunts like Gaston, right?”

“Yup.”

You laughed, coaxing a breathtaking sort of smug grin from him. Still keeping you pressed tightly to him, he moved his left hand and let it drift to your face. Typical. Even in a dim, dusty old stable with a shouting, murderous village just outside, Gaston still managed to turn the moment romantic. In fact it was nearly impossible to have a moment with him that wasn’t romantic in some way or another. All you had to do was look at him, with his smooth black hair, his smoldering eyes and smirking lips, his proud stance and thick muscle. It was instantaneous.

“When I return, we’ll mount this beast’s head on my wall and you’ll have a fur cloak so magnificent you’ll turn the whole town green with envy,” Gaston murmured, caressing your cheek with his thumb. You grinned, winding your fingers through his hair. “When you return,” you echoed. Gaston’s smile grew. He brushed his thumb across your lips, then gently tilted your chin up, whispering affirmatively, “When.”

You grinned widely, then stood on your toes to eliminate the distance separating you. Gaston inhaled deeply as your lips collided, gripping your waist with one hand and placing the other behind your head.

You became lost in that moment, locked in Gaston’s arms, feeling his heartbeat against your chest, shivers trembling across your skin despite the heated evening. So lost that you forgot about the world outside the little stable, and you forgot about the fact that in mere minutes, you would see Gaston ride off towards the woods with the town behind him, not knowing if you would ever see your true love return again.

#gaston #gaston x reader #gaston imagine #disney #disney imagine #luke evans

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