#Engagement Fics? Any Takers? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

heliossecretdeskdrawer · 1 year

Text

A Group Project

Requested by anon.

Continuity: IDW1

Rating: Explicit

Relationship: Megatron/Rodimus, Megatron/Drift , Megatron/Drift/Rodimus, Drift & Rodimus

Characters: Rodimus, Megatron, Drift

Summary: In which Rodimus invites a friend over to spend some quality time.

Warnings: Threesome, awkward sexual situations, sticky interfacing, biting

Crossposting: AO3 | DreamWidth

Fic under cut

Rodimus leaned against his hand, placed on the desk right over the datapads Megatron had been trying to sort through.

“Hey, so, I’ve got this idea.” The words came with a trademarked, mischievous smirk.

Hardly surprising, Megatron thought. Rodimus usually had several bouncing around in his processor, many ill-advised at best, though more than a few were truly brilliant.

Megatron sighed, crossing his arms to prevent himself from trying to pry the datapads free. He had already lost too many datapads that way. By now, he would say he had learned his lesson. Despite all appearances to the contrary, Rodimus was an excellent hostage taker… if the hostages were reports.

“What is it this time?”

“Take it easy.” Rodimus grinned, practically beaming, a sure sign that Megatron was not going to like what came out of his mouth next. “You’re gonna love this one.”

Doubtful, at best, but Megatron decided to be congenial and say nothing. Instead, he just wordlessly nodded for Rodimus to get on with it.

“Great, so… what if I brought a friend over?”

Megatron squinted at him for a second in confusion.

“Why are you asking my permission to have a friend over?”

Rodimus had never asked that before, not once since Megatron had moved into the captain’s quarters with him. He just brought whomever over whenever it suited him. Drift was often over to play video games or watch holonet reruns. Sometimes Swerve or Tailgate would come over… or both at the same time. Or any number of others that Rodimus enjoyed spending casual time with.

The parade of guests was occasionally aggravating, but the disruption was usually easy to ignore, especially since none of them seemed to really expect Megatron to join in the socializing.

And it wasn’t just Rodimus who filled their quarters with guests.

Megatron too occasionally asked Minimus to come sit with him and read or engage in in-depth discussions about a given text.

“You’ve never asked me that before,” he continued, “Why start now?”

“No, okay, listen though.”

Rodimus extended the index finger of his free hand and held it out in front, a melodramatic gesture to request patience.

Sure, fine; he would wait to see where Rodimus was going with this.

“This time is special.”

How nonspecific.

“Special how exactly?”

Rodimus stood up straight and clapped his hands before rubbing his palms together.

“So get this, right? I’m talking about having a friend over for a super special, extra fun time.”

He winked with each emphasized word. While Megatron knew it was for some effect, the back of his processor briefly wondered if Rodimus was perhaps developing a twitch or if one of his facial nerves was getting pinched, the beginnings of some sort of unfortunate palsy. He didn’t relish the thought of having to hold Rodimus still—a mythical feat in its own right—to fix whatever was wrong with his wiring.

Megatron tilted his head to the side, not comprehending whatever subtext Rodimus was avoiding making explicit. There was something to be said for the value of subtlety, but Rodimus had overshot it straight into obtuse vagary.

With a sigh, Rodimus clapped his hands again, though this time with disappointment rather than enthusiasm. He gestured with his hands pressed together like he was dousing for water for reasons unknowable.

“For someone so smart, sometimes you’re as dense as lead, babe. I’m talking about having a threesome. C’mon.”

Oh.

“I see.”

While waiting for Rodimus to return from an “errand”—Rodimus had refused to elaborate on its nature—Megatron sat on the worn couch after clearing away the clutter from the floor.

Trash and belongings tended to accumulate whenever Megatron was on duty and away from the habsuite. Rodimus tried his best, of course, but that best was usually piles of things. It was still an improvement over an even spread of debris—empty snack tins, discarded packaging, moist mesh towels from the washracks, crumbs from those snack tins, and empty cubes—across their quarters’ limited floorspace. Piles were also easier for Megatron to tidy all at once, so he would take the small victory.

Small steps, but for now they had reached an amicable equilibrium.

Megatron expected Rodimus back from his “errand” before their “guest” was due to arrive.

At least the place would be presentable whenever they showed up.

Ever since Rodimus had mentioned the idea, Megatron had been trying to figure out just whom his “roommate” had had in mind. There weren’t many that seemed plausible, either because Rodimus had shown no interest in them and/or the other way around.

Rather than just tell Megatron the person’s identity upfront so he could decide without the person present, Rodimus had promised it would be a “surprise.”

Unfortunately, that meant that if Megatron backed out or didn’t approve of the choice in partner, he would now have to say to that person’s face rather than obfuscating with a general lack of interest in the event.

Most of the crew were complete nonstarters.

Out of the handful that remained anywhere in the realm of plausibility, Drift was the most likely, given his closeness with Rodimus. That was the most obvious answer. Maybe Rodimus had assumed Megatron would just deduce the new mystery lover’s identity and that he wouldn’t have any objections.

He sighed, leaning back against the plush upholstery of the sofa. No wonder Rodimus liked to nap on this stupid thing. It was surprisingly comfortable.

Drift, however ideal on the surface, would be an… awkward choice, partially because they had been… close before they had both thrown down their prior allegiances and partially because ever since they had both returned from their respective exiles, they had silently agreed to avoid each other outside of work.

It wasn’t as though Drift wasn’t appealing; he did have his charms, after all. Megatron could appreciate that—and had in another life. When he and Deadlock had both worn another badge, sometimes they had kept each other’s nights warm.

Even though Drift had discarded Deadlock’s heavy armor and gloomier color palette for lighter and brighter plating, he was still pleasant to behold. It was no wonder that Ratchet was quite taken with him.

Megatron had long ago, before even seeing Drift again on the Lost Light, decided to leave the old hurts alone so that he and Drift could both move on.

However, there was no way Rodimus hadn’t noticed the just-civil distancing, hadn’t noticed that two of the people he was closest to almost pointedly did not interact with each other.

Or maybe he’d been willfully ignorant.

Or maybe this was some scheme to fix it.

Or maybe Rodimus had picked up some other mech that Megatron hadn’t even considered to bring home for some “adventure.”

Perhaps he’d lucked out against all odds and Rodimus had managed to invite Ratchet. Now that would have been a pleasant surprise, a handsome doctor on a “house call” for a private “tune up.”

A knock sounded at the door, jarring him from his thoughts.

Probably not Rodimus, given that he could usually let himself in when he didn’t forget the code or keep transposing the same digit multiple times in a row.

However, he had assured Megatron that he would return prior to any… liaising.

Megatron got up and answered the door, manually sliding the door just enough to see out. It was hard to break old habits gained from dodging assassination attempts.

Drift stood on the other side, looking a little uneasy as he kept his spinal struts unusually straight.

A cold, conflicted discomfort swirled around Megatron’s spark.

Maybe he could play dumb, take a page right out of Rodimus’s play book.

“Are you looking for Rodimus?” he asked, not even letting Drift have the chance to open his mouth before providing an answer of his own. “He’s not here.”

Drift crossed his arms and squinted.

It wasn’t impossible that Drift had simply shown up to play video games at an inopportune time, without any knowledge of the private “party” that Rodimus had been planning.

“Yeah, I know he’s not.”

Dammit.

“Then why—“

“He told me to wait here for him.”

Of course, Rodimus had told him that. Of course. It should have been no surprise.

“We’re expecting company,” he countered, still leaning on the plausible deniability of not knowing why Drift was at their door. If he verbalized his assumption that Drift was, in fact, here to interface, and he was wrong, well…. Developing a reputation as some sort of lecher was one of the last things he needed.

Drift, however, merely uncrossed his arms and rested his hands on his hips—He didn’t have his swords with him… or at least not any that Megatron could see, not even empty scabbards.

Interesting.

“I should hope so.”

Rodimus had done this on purpose, specifically to make Megatron sit alone with Drift.

Megatron’s instincts on whom his “roommate” would have been invited for some … recreation had been spot on.

With a sigh, Megatron slid the door to the shared quarters fully open.

Megatron and Drift sat on opposite ends of the couch, sitting in purposeful silence as meaningless drama played out on the glowing holonet screen.

Over an hour and a half had passed since Drift had arrived and Rodimus still had not shown up. Not even a comm message or ping.

If not for the fact that Rodimus was easily distracted, Megatron would have been concerned rather than aggravated. It still, however, seemed rather a long time for Rodimus to force Drift and Megatron to sit in each other’s presence.

The holonet displayed some rerun that Rodimus had left in earlier, the poorly mixed audio track blaring in a tinny sound shift. Megatron had neglected to unplug the dataslug earlier, so when Drift had turned the screen back on, in lieu of having a conversation, the ancient programming just resumed playing from wherever it had stopped.

Some mech had just been fired from their job and needed to woo their boss into giving them their job back, that they’re really the best worker for that position and no one else could make their boss happy like they could. It was either that or the obvious alternative of starving and having their employer-sponsored alt-mode exemption revoked. From what Megatron could tell, it was supposed to be a comedy series, with job-related mishaps each episode. The previous conflict had been the main protagonist being accused of employment infidelity after a case of mistaken identity.

Absolutely ridiculous, but even “mindless” entertainment had a purpose, he supposed.

In this case, the purpose was avoiding an awkward conversation with Drift.

Unfortunately, this stalemate had to end.

Not just because the dataslug had just finished playing the final episode, given the sudden dark screen after the ending credits, but also because they had to sort something out before Rodimus returned.

Even if what they would tell him might be “no, this won’t work.”

Despite being “dark,” the holoscreen hummed softly and still threw off the smallest amount of gray light, a signal that it was still on.

Megatron turned the appliance off with the remote that had been left on the low table in front of the couch before tossing the remote back onto the table.

“So, I assume you know why Rodimus asked you to come over.”

Drift gave a curt nod.

“And that reason is… what exactly?”

“Did he not tell you?” Drift had a clueless look on his face.

Clever.

It seemed Drift was also hesitant to acknowledge the situation. Either that, or he truly didn’t know, which was a possibility, that Rodimus had arranged a prank of some kind.

The prank idea, however, lacked veracity; the twitch at the corner of Drift’s mouth a tell that this innocence was merely a mask, a veneer.

“He might have, but he might not have.” Megatron shrugged, not quite willing to show his proverbial hand just yet. “For the sake of argument, let’s presume he didn’t.”

“Then he’ll have some explaining to do when he gets here, won’t he?”

Drift smiled broadly, further playing up the act. Megatron could see the points of his fangs, just barely visible like he was restraining himself from flashing them.

Come to think of it, since seeing Drift again, Megatron couldn’t recall him baring his teeth often.

Autobots tended to find fangs an unsettling fashion statement, the modification having been common—though not ubiquitous—among Decepticons, a sign of weaponized independence and that, even if disarmed, they remained some manner of threat.

Megatron had encountered some Autobots and non-aligned mechs with them as well, but they were a rarity.

He had also heard of defectors having their fangs removed, replaced with more factory standard teeth by medics either to more properly assimilate or for any number of personal reasons.

On the other hand, Drift hadn’t done that, even with his significant frame changes after throwing off the guise of Deadlock.

Nor had Megatron for that matter. There had been some things he had been unwilling to lose, though he had filed them back a little—just enough to blunt the points—for ease of maintenance, something Rodimus occasionally bemoaned as he, in stark contrast to the faction’s aesthetic norms, found fangs attractive.

It looked like Drift hadn’t altered his fangs in the slightest, the warm pseudo-incandescent “mood” light of the habsuite—one of Rodimus’s dubious decor decisions—glinting off the sharp points. No matter how long Drift had been with the Autobots, that was still a Decepticon’s grin.

“Yes, yes, of course, but I’m asking you.”

“Maybe he didn’t tell me either.”

A blatant lie; Drift had already admitted to knowing.

“I find that highly doubtful.”

Megatron huffed.

“Yeah, well, I also doubt he didn’t tell you.”

Drift finally let his teeth show fully, unaltered fangs on shameless display.

An involuntary thought of letting Drift sink those in between the narrow seams of metal plating or in the vulnerable separations between delicate cables popped up in his processor.

Rodimus, perhaps, had figured out that Megatron too found such weaponized anatomy appealing. That would explain the time Rodimus had offered to get the mod, only to give up after a few days when he kept cutting his tongue on the test, glue-on pair. It would also explain Rodimus’s choice of third participant, though… that could have just been an amusing coincidence.

Maybe.

Megatron doubted the coincidence more the longer Drift smiled.

“I mean, you’re his boyfriend, after all.”

“Roommate,” Megatron inaccurately corrected.

“Sure, sure.” Drift lifted his hands, wiggling the first two fingers on each hand in an “air quotes” gesture. Insufferable. “‘Roommate.’”

“There’s no need to insinuate—" But having sensed an opening in the argument, a place to poke and prod, Drift was quick to move, to pounce on it like cybercat on a glitchmouse. He scooted across the couch towards Megatron, taking the center seat before any explanation of just what was being insinuated could occur.

At some point since the conversation had started, a shift occurred that Megatron hadn’t initially noticed, a shift from avoiding having to interact to seeing if they could bait each other into admitting that they knew what Rodimus had asked of them.

And now, yet another shift: this one to Drift taking the opportunity to tease, by falling into the easy familiarity of presumably good-natured antagonism to sidestep the awkward questions, an answer without actually answering. When he had been Deadlock, he had always enjoyed opportunities to bully those around him. Drift hadn’t lost that as an Autobot, just like he hadn’t lost that sharp bite.

The discomfort of not having talked about the metaphorical behemoth in the room was not resolved, however, simply set aside. Perhaps Drift hoped to bury it by skipping to something else, something distracting to not bother unpacking until later.

On the center seat of the couch, Drift took care to avoid actually touching Megatron, as though he were still pretending he wasn't here to engage in any licentious activity.

He would likely to try lure Megatron into making the first move.

"I'm not insinuating anything."

Or maybe Drift was punishing him, getting his revenge for how they had parted ways before, sending bounty hunters to retrieve a wayward Deadlock.

Drift leaned forward, carefully maintaining that minimal distance between their bodies. He kept his smile wide, the fangs catching the light and a spark of mischief in his blue optics.

"Look," he said, gesturing with his upturned palms spread wide, just inside Megatron's personal space, "we all know about your long-term relationship with Rodimus."

The roommate facade was a pretense borne of habit.

While he had rarely had intimate or even close relationships during the war, Megatron had never been willing to publicly acknowledge any of them. It would have made the loved one a target, someone who could be hurt or killed in an attempt to manipulate him.

Rodimus probably thought it was funny since he had never openly objected to Megatron’s flimsy cover story.

"Drift, you’re crossing the line," he growled, even if there was no danger behind it, a toothless threat. There wasn’t really anything he could or would do to Drift about it, short of maybe kicking him out of the room.

Maybe he wouldn’t even do that.

There had always been something thrilling about being defied. It was one of the unspoken reasons that Starscream’s treachery had been tolerated for so long. Harnessing defiance had a certain appeal.

Drift, however, ignored the the warning.

Instead, he shook his head and pointed over the back of the couch to the recharge slab nestled in an alcove off the sitting area.

Piled with blankets that Megatron had meticulously folded that morning, the slab was large enough for two mechs; it even had a cable splitter adapter to allow sharing the same recharging unit.

“It’s simply a matter of resource conservation.”

A fragile lie, one Drift would see through instantly, not that it mattered. It was part of the game.

Beyond the game they had fallen into, there wasn’t even any reason to lie, not really. No one onboard, not after they left their home universe behind, was going to target Rodimus to get at Megatron nor the reverse. The threat was functionally nonexistent. No one cared.

Yet he had already put up the front. He couldn’t just walk it back.

Drift would have to tear the facade down.

“You’re still so bad at little fibs after all this time.” Drift tsked at him, leaning closer. “That’s not what Rodimus says.”

Megatron tensed, refusing to cower even though he knew it would be only a matter of time before he let himself buckle.

At this range, he could feel Drift throwing off heat, grinning like a predator cornering prey. Even with his new, lighter armor, Drift still moved like a hunter.

Megatron’s own internal thermostat started ticking higher.

“And what does he allegedly say then?”

“Oh, just how much fun he has between your legs.”

Megatron raised an eyebrow at the blatantly crude remark.

“That’s not necessarily indicative of anything,” he protested, “Casual interfacing is—”

Drift held up a finger, telling him to wait.

“And how you tell him you love him when you think he’s asleep at night.”

“Hearsay.” Megatron scoffed. “Rodimus likes to talk. We all know that. He says whatever comes to mind without thinking it through.”

That was a little disingenuous. Rodimus had become far more careful about his word choices in recent years, sometimes to the point of unhelpful, such as when trying to ask Megatron if he wanted to have a third person join their berth for a casual romp.

Drift continued to smirk, as though he knew he was rapidly depleting Megatron’s stock of canned excuses. The pull of Drift’s mouth charmingly crinkled the red paint under his eyes, revealing some of the endearing, well-hidden microfractures that he had earned with age and experience.

Maybe… running out of hollow excuses was alright.

“Sure, he does but he doesn’t like to talk about his feelings much.” Drift finally crossed fully into Megatron’s personal space, just barely managing to not touch by strategically placing his palms on the couch on either side of Megatron’s middle. “Neither of you do.”

The thermostat flashed a warning on Megatron’s HUD, along with a notification that his cooling fans were automatically cycling on, an embarrassing whir that Drift was certain to hear.

“That’s fine though,” Drift continued, “we don’t have to talk about it at all.”

It was funny, almost. Megatron knew that Drift’s current optics were Autobot blue, bright and friendly. Deadlock’s had been red, fiery and dangerous. Yet he could have sworn that Drift was looking at him the way he had before defecting, with a threat that was a promise.

“No,” Megatron agreed, Drift and his teeth inching closer to the delicate cabling in his throat. “No, we don’t.”

His own fans now weren’t the only ones he could hear, Drift having allowed his to roar on as he bit down, fangs pushing into the narrow spaces between the cabling.

The flood of error messages from the sensors in his throat tingled in his processor as he let them dominate his HUD, relaxing back against the plush upholstery of the couch.

Drift could have his stupid win.

Megatron shifted his posture, grabbing Drift by the hips and guiding him between his thighs. Warm breath on his neck as those fangs stuck fast spurred him to open some of his modesty paneling. The ruse had already been all but destroyed anyway.

The cold air on his freshly bared valve was banished immediately by the crush of Drift’s pelvic plating.

He heard a quiet click and something hot and firm brushed his anterior node, a soft burst of pleasure. He inadvertently ground up against the spike only to feel Drift shudder in response.

Their plating scraped together awkwardly as they adjusted their angles to better line up, wasting no time.

Soon the tip of Drift’s spike lightly pressed against the entrance of his valve.

A horrifying thought occurred to him.

What if, by some phenomenal odds, Drift might not have been who Rodimus had invited over?

In that case, rather than accommodating Rodimus’s wishes, Megatron was, in fact, betraying his trust.

Before that thought could take root, however, the door to the habsuite slid open, Rodimus standing in the doorway with an open-topped crate in his hands, probably borrowed from the cargo bay and full of some pilfered, salt-laden snack food.

"Aw, you started without me!"

The door slid shut behind him as he tossed the crate in his arms to the floor in favor of eagerly scrambling up the couch behind Drift. Several tins, most likely bismuth chips by the sound of them, rattled around inside the crate on impact.

“I got distracted when picking up snacks and—Don’t worry about it, guys; I’ll catch up.“

The couch had proved to be too small for the three of them, despite Rodimus’s bold insistence that he could simply climb on top of or squeeze behind someone. After Rodimus had accidentally hurled himself to the floor after placing his knee in a precarious place on the cushions, they had had to admit defeat.

The berth, despite being large, barely had enough room for everyone, meaning Megatron had to let his legs dangle off the side of the padded recharge slab. And by “dangle,” it was more akin to resting his feet directly on the floor.

Rodimus had just crudely described it as the “huge bastard tax” right before kissing his nose and clambering elsewhere on the berth, presumably to rearrange the cushions and tarpaulins.

The display of affection was a strange thing to do right in front of Drift but given that Drift was buried comfortably to the hilt in Megatron’s valve, maybe it didn’t really matter at this point what sort of embarrassing intimacies he saw.

He could hear Rodimus scuttling around just out of sight, like he was trying to sculpt a more comfortable landscape out of the covers.

Drift, on the other hand, was doing a valiant job of trying to distract him with slow, lazy thrusts. They escalated nothing but did hold his attention while Drift rested his weight against heavier armor. A warm, unhurried pleasure with no expectations.

The occasional contracting of his valve was a comfortable background thrum while they waited for Rodimus to find a way to slot himself into the tangle somewhere.

While Megatron certainly had some ideas about how this could go, Rodimus had previously made him promise to not to treat it like a constantly shifting battlefield. Despite Megatron’s objections to giving up that much control, it was up to Rodimus to finagle everything.

Drift had, Megatron assumed, also been made to make the same promise.

Threesomes always sounded so good on paper, but in practice they were tricky to coordinate. Angles and positions were tedious to negotiate. That was, he presumed, what Rodimus’s hold up was.

“Are you just watching or are you planning on joining some time before we’re finished?” he asked, throwing an arm around Drift’s back to keep him close. With where Megatron had had to relocate on the berth, Drift’s legs were in near constant danger of slipping right off the padding.

Surely this wasn’t the best way. Maybe he could be permitted a bit more space to accommodate Drift.

Without warning, his head was lifted up and a wadded-up tarpaulin stuffed underneath to support his neck and shoulders.

Drift unfortunately stopped moving, probably a safety precaution.

“Don’t be impatient,” Rodimus said, coming back into view as he adjusted the lump. A pillow would have been simpler, but Rodimus had never been known to do things the easy way, at least not the first time around.

Megatron scoffed, turning his head sideways to better see.

“That’s rich coming from you—“ He was cut off by the sight of a familiar red-orange spike bobbing excitedly right in front of his face.

So that was how Rodimus anticipated this going.

Not the worst configuration.

“And it took you all that time to prepare?”

He glanced up to watch Rodimus’s face.

Rodimus, however, just idly scratched his nose and shrugged.

“No, not really. I was also watching. I can do both. It’s called ‘multitasking.’”

Before any retort could be mustered, Rodimus shifted his kneeling posture, bouncing his spike on purpose.

Megatron grumbled before just opening his mouth to let the spike in as Drift started moving again.

Within a few vigorous thrusts, however, Drift’s precarious stance, huddled on his knees between Megatron’s thighs on the edge of the berth, finally faltered. His hands scrabbled in vain for purchase on Megatron’s armor. With a surprised yelp, he slipped out of the valve, landing on his aft on the floor.

“Okay, fellas, so… new plan.”

Rodimus’s spike halfway down his throat, Megatron groaned.

“Not the plan I had in mind, babe, but thanks.”

“Rodimus, your new plan is the same plan,” Megatron said, Rodimus getting tentatively settled between his knees.

The two racers had merely switched places.

Drift sat off to the side, hand on Megatron’s shoulder in case they needed to suddenly move again.

“No, it isn’t!” Rodimus grabbed his spike, starting to nose it against Megatron’s valve as though that would solve the “no space at the end of the bed” problem. “This is a totally different plan. It’s fine!”

“You’re going to hit the floor again,” Drift added.

“No, I’m—“ A look of understanding dawned on Rodimus’s face, like he’d just been given a vision from Primus himself. “I’ve got it!”

Megatron raised a skeptical optical ridge as Rodimus excitedly spread his now-lubricant-covered hands wide.

“Guys, I’ve got a new new plan!”

The floor.

Bolstered by pillow and covers.

It wasn’t the most comfortable surface but the risk of someone falling off the bed had been nullified by obviating using the bed in the first place. Space was also no longer an issue.

Rodimus’s “new” new plan seemed to have actually paid off.

Moaning around Rodimus’s spike, Megatron silently congratulated himself on having tidied up the floor before Drift had even arrived.

Drift, meanwhile, was speeding up the motion of his hips, the lewd noises between Megatron’s legs where they met growing louder.

After a several more firm thrusts, he felt Drift finally go stiff over him in overload, at long last after all of the interruptions.

A shame, he thought, gently patting Drift’s back, since he himself was really only just starting to get anywhere, his valve clenching in vain at the softening spike inside. His frame tended to require a lot of attention compared to those of sleek racers.

Drift fell limp against Megatron’s body, still catching his breath.

“My turn!” Rodimus yanked his spike out of Megatron’s throat before scrambling down to bully Drift out of place. Drift whined but obeyed, leaving the now unoccupied valve open for Rodimus to take position.

Megatron sighed, wondering quietly when it would be his turn.

Eventually, of course. Rodimus and Drift would almost certainly be taking multiple turns and—a warm burst of charge, growing rapidly and radiating out from the touch of a hand that suddenly appeared between his legs.

Drift had crawled up alongside him and reached down, massaging the exposed anterior node as Rodimus settled in.

His valve started to clench down on Rodimus’s spike as soon as he was properly seated.

Maybe this wouldn’t take as long as he had thought.

“You planned that, didn’t you?” Megatron asked, closing the door to the hallway after Drift had finally left.

It had taken nearly an hour to the get the paint transfers off his bright white finish. White tended to show even the slightest flaw, which meant that color required additional upkeep compared to others.

Rodimus shrugged from where he had flopped across the couch, still covered in transfers with his exhausted array still on full display.

“I mean, I did plan the threesome, yeah.” Rodimus tilted his head to the side. “Is your memory starting to go, babe?”

Megatron sighed and took his seat next to Rodimus on the sofa. He had cleaned himself up some and closed his panels, but the paint transfers remained. He would need Rodimus’s assistance to reach some. Likewise, Rodimus would need his assistance in return. It was a favor they did for each other after intimate encounters, affectionately wiping away the evidence.

“No, I mean, you planned to have Drift show up while you were out.”

“Oh.” Rodimus thought for a moment. “Yeah, yeah, I did plan that.”

The couch shifted as Rodimus rolled over before crawling into Megatron’s lap, straddling his hips. He slipped his arms around to pull the larger mech into a comforting embrace.

“Why—“

“Well, I wanted you guys to have some time to get the weird out.”

“Get… the weird out?”

Rodimus shrugged again, grinning up at Megatron.

“Yeah, you guys have some weird thing you needed to work out and I thought that would be a great time. Get whatever it is out so the banging could go off without a hitch.”

Somehow Megatron felt that they hadn’t actually worked anything out but had simply side-stepped it in favor of falling into old patterns, but before he could protest, Rodimus interrupted.

“It must have worked since you guys got started without me.”

“I… suppose it must have, yes.”

Perhaps not to the extent Rodimus had envisioned, but perhaps the door to his friendship with Drift had, at the minimum, reopened after all.

“Great, because I want to invite him back for another few rounds next week.”

#fic #one shot #valveplug #megarod #megadrift #megadriftrod #megatron #rodimus #drift

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being-of-rain · 1 year

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So on a whim (and in an ungodly short amount of time) I relistened to all of the Eighth Doctor Time War series, because I missed the companion, Bliss. I don't think she gets anywhere near as much focus and development as she deserves by the writers, and I'd probably find her pretty dull if she wasn't played by Rakhee Thakrar, who somehow makes her every line terribly engaging and full of life.

I decided to take notes on Bliss as I listened to her just so I could have a strong grasp of her if I write fic with her in future (I really want a whole series of adventures with her travelling with the Doctor and the Twelve). Then, when I started linking ideas in those notes, I turned them into paragraphs, and pretty soon I'd accidentally written a whole wiki entry about her character, with episodes cited as sources 😂 I thought I'd share it here, because what else am I going to do with it?

Spoilers for the Eighth Doctor Time War series under the cut.

Bliss is from the human colony world Derilobia, studying a post-graduate degree in applied quantum astro-tech at Lunar University. She's empathetic and loyal, cool in a crisis, a natural initiative-taker, optimistic, and very intelligent (many sources). She described herself as liking to deconstruct, analyse, solve, and find a practical use for things and people (In the Garden of Death). She grew up in a city she considered dull. She looked forward to leaving the planet and delighted when she managed it for university (Salvage, State of Bliss).

She is rarely naive, but she makes friends easily and places trust and faith in people even when she has no reason to, or has good reason not to, such as the Doctor (The Starship of Theseus), a Dalek (Echoes of War), the Twelve, the Ogron Doctor (Planet of the Ogrons), the Time Lords in general (In the Garden of Death), Tamasan (Fugitive in Time), and the Valeyard (The War Valeyard).

On the other hand, when circumstances call for it she's happy to go on the offensive with any gun that she can get her hands on, more so as time has gone on, and in the face of the Doctor's express disapproval (Companion Piece, The Starship of Theseus, Palindrome, Restoration of the Daleks). She even went behind the Doctor's back to attempt the premeditated murder of Davros (Palindrome). And when the Doctor used scare tactics against an opponent, she enthusiastically played along (The Famished Lands). All of these instances were tied to self-defence (against Daleks and Time Lords) and her desire to protect others from injustice. She hates sacrificing people (many) but very willingly shot and killed a good man when he asked her to in extreme enough circumstances- in this case when he had a chance of surviving the death and stopping the Time War from restarting (Palindrome).

She has more than once impulsively used dangerously powerful devices to try and achieve the impossible, against the Doctor's wishes, such as the Salvage Train's engine (Salvage) and Professor Deepa's quantum tech (State of Bliss). She questioned if the Doctor was tempted to do something similar with the omniscient power of the Ourashima. In that case, the Doctor had declined the offer on the grounds that everyone in the room had been or could become a warrior, a statement which included Bliss (Jonah).

Indeed, during missions Bliss earned respect from war-hardened military types such as Rasmus, Davros (Restoration of the Daleks), some small begrudging amount from Tamasan (Fugitive in Time), and even acknowledgement of her usefulness from Ollistra (Jonah). She hates the destruction and pain the Time Lords wrought due to their lack of compassion (many) and has more reason than most to hate them after they locked her up and threatened her as first impressions (Echoes of War, The Conscript) and destroyed her homeworld and original timeline (The Lords of Terror). But she was still happy to work with them for the greater good, even contacting them to update them on a mission without telling the Doctor (Restoration of the Daleks).

Her first encounter with the Doctor was a complicated event and often difficult for either of them to remember due to several factors: Professor Deepa retroactively altering Bliss' timeline, creating many parallel lives, to steer her towards the Doctor (State of Bliss, Companion Piece), Bliss meeting the Doctor in a particularly unstable part of the War that altered timelines around people (The Starship of Theseus), their first adventure being more or less erased by Quarren (a powerful Time Lord at the centre of the events) erasing himself (One Life), and Bliss' entire original timeline later being overwritten by another Time Lord (The Lords of Terror).

Bliss travelled with the Doctor for some time between losing her home planet (The Lords of Terror) and meeting the Twelve (Planet of the Ogrons): visiting an ocean planet (Dreadshade), meeting space explorer Hudson Sage (Vespertine), saving the people on the Salvage Train (Salvage), and learning enough about the Doctor's adventures to make jokes about his way of travelling (Salvage etc).

At first she travelled with the Doctor because she had no choice, due to her home planet Derilobia being destroyed. The Doctor told her that he thinks he'll be able to bring Derilobia and her timeline back, "not now, not with the Time War going on, but someday, somehow," and until then they'll "look after one another, away from the battlefields" (The Lords of Terror). Bliss adapted to the change and loss well, probably helped by the fact that the changing timelines made it hard for her to remember her past (Jonah, Salvage). She soon described the TARDIS as "my home, for now" (Salvage). Eventually she was pulled back into the War doing missions with and for the Time Lords (Planet of the Ogrons, Jonah). When the Doctor finally tried but failed to settle her and her planet's timelines, he reassured a Bliss in an existential crisis that he's seen her "do good" and "make a difference," and Bliss resolved that he should take her somewhere she can "help other people" (State of Bliss).

After the Time War seemingly ended, Bliss still travels with the Doctor for "ages" despite (or maybe because of) the fact he hadn't yet managed to restore her home planet (The War Valeyard). It's when the War restarted and they're drawn back in that she shows a slightly more practical and trigger-happy side that appealed to the Time Lords and Davros. She called the Doctor "the best friend I've ever had" (Dreadshade) but pushed him to go to the front lines of the Time War when he was hesitant to. When offered by Rasmus to "find a place" for her, Bliss responded "My place is with the Doctor- for now, anyway" (Restoration of the Daleks). But soon after she seemed to be erased completely from the timeline and the Doctor's memory (Meanwhile, Elsewhere, Vepertine, Previously, Next Time).

I'll also share my issues with how Bliss was handled: she works fine in Eight's Time War Volume One as the one-off companion she was originally intended to be. I'm glad they kept her on, but after that she really needed a strong character focus or story arc, and she didn't get it.

Volume Two and Volume Three each dedicate one episode to her backstory, but neither does it well. Volume Two's episode (The Lords of Terror) edits her in to story about the loss of a planet by making it her homeworld, but so badly that we don't really learn anything new about her and she doesn't seem to care about the fact that it's her homeworld getting destroyed in half the scenes. The episodes immediately afterward had her acting totally fine and not addressing the loss of her planet at all.

Volume Three's Bliss episode (State of Bliss) attempts to address her multiple timelines, but does so in a way that's confusing, badly explained, and again doesn't end up saying or provoking much about her as a character. Both of Bliss' backstory episodes end by proposing things to do with her character moving forward (grieving her home planet in the first, and helping others affected by the Time War as a form of coping in the second) but no other episodes really pick up those threads in an explicit or meaningful way.

Despite not dedicating an episode to her, I think Volume Four gives some of the most interesting characterisation and story arc for Bliss. Namely, she butts heads with the Doctor a lot more in their slight philosophical differences: they both want to help people affected by the Time War, but Bliss is more willing than the Doctor to go near battlegrounds, to use violence in her own and others' defence, and to work with the Time Lords. What could be a better story arc for a companion with Time War-era Eight than her friendship with him gradually fracturing as she gets irritate by his desire to not interfere with the War, even when he could help others. The fact that these ideas are only really hinted at makes me wonder if any of it was intentional arc-hooks, but the hints were spread throughout the set, so who knows.

Then Rakhee Thakrar got too busy to keep playing Bliss, and good for her. Big Finish should've given her meatier stuff while they had her. I honestly hoped that they'd write her off in Volume Five as having left the Doctor on bad terms to work with other Time Lords instead, for maximum drama, especially if they can get her back. But instead she was simply erased from the timeline, which honestly feels very disrespectful if they never bring her back, but it would be in-keeping with her usually treatment. It's a knife in the back that the companion after her, Alex and Cass, immediately have slightly more interesting dynamics and arcs.

#my posts #bliss #big finish #time war #eight #watch me write SO many paragraphs just for my own peace of mind

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ivanaskye · 10 months

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A Letter

(Today's flash fic, I am outright cross-posting here because it's Šehhinah! However, do not take it absolutely binding canon.)

Safirah,

You said you wanted accounts of others’ interpretations of the Fiery One’s experience at the time in which They burned our price.

As I write this that very price flutters and unfurls in my mouth. I realize in being tongue-price that I am a member of that class of outliers that forced Them to burn rather than asking, begging Them to do it. But ah, those flutters, those fire-wisps I can taste against the roof of my mouth…! I can follow them, the feeling almost like words though of course more like that final name with which I demanded Them than any of the words I ever spoke before and never will again… but what I mean to say is that my interpretations feel like this, a beloved Other in my mouth tracing words that are not words—

But I have lost where I was, again, it happens frequently, you’ve corresponded with tongue-prices before, I understand? My written sentences hold more traditional grammar than those of some but it is quite easy to lose track as I overflow with the information that is near-words—that I perceive as near-words—I know They do not think in words, indeed I have a wonderful vantage point from which to know this fact—but yet it is what once was my tongue that twitches with Their thoughts and so—

And so. I get to the point. Which is that They say, are saying right now, that the experience of burning between the price I gave them and others is not so dissimilar—

(ah, but I recognize that particular ripple, They are thinking of she who grabbed Them so tight with her tongue that she was immolated—They shiver with that thought, do you know? Of course you would, you are arm-price and that is even more tactile than the price I gave—do They shiver now as you read these words, thinking, They were grabbed grabbed wrapped tight inside her, all of Them, every syllable, Their truest name—)

I did not speak that truest name. If anything I risked being a traditionalist, already knowing the old translation of one-of-Their-names, (so pale even this translation seems to me now compared to that light I spoke), I am that I am, and They are but it is more than that—you know that it is more than that. I traced those words until they were concepts in my mind and then I collapsed them upon themself, each word meaning each other as well—but that was only the first step—I had to make the gap between syllables not a gap at all but—this, this, I want to say to you, pointing at my tongue, such is the difficulty of writing—you know this but you did not say it—but I do not want to start again that argument about the comparative meanings of prices—we all encountered the same person after all—were burned by the same flame—

Focus. Write what you asked.

What They felt. Not what I felt, what I did—but is that not the point, to Them also, that I did it—spoke Them—it’s almost like letting Them settle, into that comfortable space in my mouth—but also not like that—

They burn, and They burn, and They burn. Do you know the joy it is to be a fire permitted to be-fire, something that always is-to-burn now permitted (begged to, or demanded to) engage in that burning? You would know, you grappled Them, didn’t you—I’ve read your writings—it’s like a sigh, isn’t it, that grateful consuming of your price? Or no, it’s not like that because it’s a conflagration—They’re laughing right now, I know you can imagine, my tongue-become-Their-flame is twitching like chiming bells—They laugh that I struggle to define Them when I already have—I can still taste that name on my tongue, you know—it is like I am always saying it—

‘Are-that-are,’ that simple translation, fire-that-fire, burn-that-burn, taker-of-the-price-who-takes-the-price—a collapse-into-itself like the astronomers are saying about black holes (like Samael says too, who made them, Samael who put Them into the black hole inside his body, They have fun with that you know, it’s like—like being held even though they can no longer feel his body? Not a rejection but no longer present where the rest of us can see—or the rest of them, the other humans—we can follow the paths through Them if we want, catch a glimpse of that black-hole-caught part of Them—but what am I talking about! You debated with Samael just last week!)—what I was saying is, fire that is/becomes itself, joyously—ah, but I’ve read the writings, yours and many others, I’m not saying anything that hasn’t been said! Even when I said that it was a name that’s been said, but I do not regret that… such a good name it was, fitting so warm in my mouth.

You have no idea how glad I am for the invention of typewriters. Being mute, it’s so flaming hard to ever shut up.

—Genadza, Holy of God

(I know, I know, I don’t stand on formality usually but I love to type those words because of how they make my tongue flutter, which is to say, it is God that loves me to type them—hah! But here I am rambling again, ah well, more letters to follow, it is safe to assume…)

#my writing #short story #flash fiction #sehhinah #flash fiction month #ffm2023

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nana-glass-chillhop-radio-hour · 2 years

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Okay TSV crowd, I am looking for a Hayward enjoyer to beta read a short (~8k) fic that is mostly Hayward and Carpenter having another one of their iconic... arguments? Interrogations? Ethical debates? This time it's at the Fiddler Crab Feast!

Any takers? I'd mostly just like feedback as to 1) do the story beats make sense? and 2) how can I make the prose more engaging?

#lord willing and the crick don't rise #it is in my AU but i will happily provide a short summary of the events leading up to said story #the silt verses

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lcthebtswriter · 4 years

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youtuber masterlist

I no longer write for YouTubers, but I’ve gathered all my fics here for convenience.

Please let me know if any links stop working. No one has permission to repost my content on any platform, so please alert me if plagiarism has taken place.

Have fun reading!

- jacksepticeye -

go for it | fluff

light of the moon | fluff

i apologize | fluff

a few seconds | fluff

shy | fluff

promise | angst

agitation | fluff

late night munchies | fluff

gone | angst

entwine | fluff

hostage | angst

devastation | angst

roll credits | fluff

scary situations | fluff

6/10 | angst, fluff

mended | angst

one fleeting moment | fluff

loved | angst, fluff

slip | the following may contain triggering content

the first step | the following may contain triggering content

the heat | contains almost smut

trial and error | fluff

whirlwind | fluff

skinny love | angst

the after-party | fluff

- anti -

run with the hunted | angst

nightmare | angst

if i’m lucky | angst

in the morning | fluff

straightjacket | the following may contain triggering content

done and done | angst

young and menace | the following may contain triggering content

empirical | the following may contain triggering content

solicitous | fluff

new year, new anti | platonic fluff

assistance | the following may contain triggering content

can’t decide | angst

inferiority complex | platonic fluff

- chase -

the last night | the following may contain triggering content

little surprises | fluff

sick day | fluff

- jameson -

indefinitely | fluff

- robbie -

undying affection | the following may contain triggering content

- markiplier -

rain | fluff

staring contest | fluff

all too soon | the following may contain triggering content

just a prank, bro | teamiplier platonic fluff

the black slug | the following may contain triggering content

wake up | angst

never again | fluff

us swingers | teamiplier platonic fluff

i can’t even | angst

rotted | the following may contain triggering content

truth or dare | fluff

derailed | the following may contain triggering content

lonesome | angst

doubtless | fluff

almost over | angst

isolated | the following may contain triggering content

migraine | teamilpier platonic fluff

cuddle pile | teamiplier platonic fluff

avoid | angst

secret | the following may contain triggering content

last minute comfort | angst

rom-com worthy | fluff

rivers and roads | angst

pout | fluff

breathe | fluff

spontaneous | fluff

stressing | fluff

no backing out | fluff

50s | fluff | headcanons

engaged | fluff | headcanons

- darkiplier -

ungodly love | angst | the following may contain triggering content

no more | angst

confident | fluff

the illusion of safety | angst

dance with the devil | angst

back from the dead | angst

young gods | angst

a bit too much | fluff

among the aliens | fluff

wildcard | angst

colors | fluff

even then | fluff

control | angst

blind | fluff | headcanons

contretemps | fluff

evil angel | angst

these are the lies | angst

chaser | angst

fearing love | angst

irony | fluff

side to side | fluff

visionary | fluff

nepenthe | angst

bygones | angst

spilled wine | the following may contain triggering content

king | fluff

delicate | fluff

the difference in stature | fluff

torn | angst

- mayor damien -

sanguine | angst

no stress zone | fluff

recover | the following may contain triggering content

- google -

tongue tied | the following may contain triggering content

a welcomed sentiment | fluff ft. dark

songbird | fluff

quiet company | fluff

- host -

tranquility | fluff

- wilford -

saudade | angst

anagapesis | angst

emotive | fluff

- crankgameplays -

absolutely smitten | fluff

for good measure | angst

carolina eyes | fluff

supported | fluff

risk taker (pt.1) (pt.2) | fluff

flicker | angst

doodles | fluff

paragon | fluff

youth | fluff

invisible | fluff

study buddy | fluff

lovely | fluff

duet | fluff

happiness | fluff

corrupted (pt.1) (pt.2) | angst

turkey day | fluff

merry christmas, love | fluff

in denial | angst

expectations | the following may contain triggering content

constant | fluff

about time | fluff

sheltered | the following may contain triggering content

peanuts | fluff

love story | fluff

a mishap | fluff

disclosure | the following may contain triggering content

one night | angst

chance encounters | fluff

the beach | fluff

turmoil | angst

wistful | fluff

perfect | fluff

inevitable | the following may contain triggering content

- tyler scheid -

momentary peace | fluff

admittance |

- amy nelson -

starting anew | platonic fluff

starstruck | fluff

magnetic | angst

hold me tight or don’t | angst

joke or a lie | fluff

- kathryn -

clear | fluff

compromised | fluff

#jacksepticeye x reader #markiplier x reader #anti x reader #darkiplier x reader #chase brody x reader #amy nelson imagines #tyler scheid imagines #ethan nestore x reader #wilford x reader #host x reader #mayor damien imagines #youtuber masterlist

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katnissmellarkkk · 3 years

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Chapter Three

Hiiii, all you cool cats and kittens 😂😂😂😂. Okay but seriously, imma just word vomit all the things I need to cover in this author’s note — that I can remember.

I’ve been writing this chapter for like a week, I’m super nervous about it, I’m really sorry if this angst is upsetting you, I am gonna do my best to make it all right in the end, the angst is gonna continue though for a bit longer, yes this fic is only 10 chapters, yes I still want your comments even if you’re upset, my eye is still having trouble so I can’t look at a computer screen for too long because it physically hurts so I’m editing on my phone and there is a high chance I’ll re-edit these chapters after my eye isn’t all Heltor Skeltor anymore.

Okay I think that’s everything, I very much am gratefully for all the feedback I’ve received and I hope you all continue to read this fic.

Peeta stayed for hours after that. He smiled and laughed and, for a while, made me forget all about my unbearable loneliness, how empty this home feels, how uncomfortable I am with the prospect of my mother moving on with her life, how much I really miss my sister right now.

How I miss my sister more than anything.

He still makes me feel safe, I realized, as we sat on the couch and ate our third helping of the chocolate cake he’d baked for me. He knows how much I love chocolate from all the meals we shared on the train.

“Actually, from the time you decided to just eat the chocolate fountain by itself,” he had corrected. Off my quizzical look, he added, “At Snow mansion? We were there for a party?”

“Our engagement party?” I amended, teasing him a little.

My attempt at levity works as I watch his mouth contort into smirk in response. “Sorry, I guess I forgot what party it was.”

“They did drag us to a lot of them,” I agreed, not foreseeing the jab he was about to throw.

“And you pigged out at every one of them.”

I pretended to be offended for a moment but his proud laughter made me lose the facade far sooner than I should have. The joyful glint to his gaze, the way his body language was relaxed and open, the way he seemed to remember small details of our shared past now, I just couldn’t hold even a false grudge against him. I just couldn’t help giggling alongside him.

But he had to leave around dinner time, having an appointment to get the construction for the new rebuilt bakery approved and in motion.

As soon as he departs, and I’m left once again inside a void, hallow house that only emphasizes the greatest loss of my life—the one I’ll probably never go a single day without feeling the ache of—I decide I need to leave too. I decide as soon as I glance around the empty place that it’d be in my best interest to get out as well, to prolong the inevitable despair the deserted home brings come nightfall.

My first thought is to drop off the liquor I picked up for Haymitch a few days ago at the train station. He was passed out drunk and I was already there and it seemed at the time like a good bargaining chip when he was feeling particularly caustic towards me. Which lately had been often.

Now it just poses a good excuse to go talk to the sour man, to perhaps pick his brain about Bailey Robyn. To perhaps see what he knows that I don’t about the mysterious girl who blew into both our lives.

And only evidently disturbed one of them.

He has clearly has gotten to know her better than I have, and he’s quite transparently taken quite a liking to her. If I want to know this girl, or even begin to understand what Peeta sees in her, it only makes sense to get Haymitch to share some details in exchange for his favorite liquor.

After all, our entire relationship has always been a series of bargains, one way or another.

Throughout mine and Peeta’s entire time together—which amounted to the whole afternoon—he had never once mentioned Bailey. He hadn’t said she was waiting for him or what she thought about the cake or if she even knew he would be at my house today.

And for some reason that led me to assume she was busy in town somewhere. That she was working on the salon she mentioned wanting to start up, that she was out doing things herself, that she wasn’t even concerned with Peeta celebrating my birthday today.

That she wasn’t sitting on Haymitch’s counter, talking to him about that very subject.

“It just doesn’t make me feel great, you know?” Her clear and high voice rings out from the window right as I’m gearing up to barge my way inside the pig sty. “I want to go with him, in case he has an episode or something, and he tells me no. Like flat out, full stop, no.”

I slip in through the unlocked front door, quiet as a mouse, eavesdropping like I know I shouldn’t. Like I know is a complete violation of privacy, both for Bailey and for Haymitch. And maybe even Peeta, since he’s the one they’re conferring about.

“He’s stubborn,” Haymitch agrees, sounding more sober than I’ve heard him in months. Sounding more sober than I’ve seen since we were in Thirteen. “Try mentoring him in the games.”

Bailey scoffs at that. “No. You couldn’t pay me enough.”

They share a laugh and I feel my hands tighten around the bottle, as an extremely uncomfortable sensation settles into the pit of my stomach.

They sound like old friends. They sound happy and pleased to be hanging out and conversing. And if I’m being honest, it gives me one more reason to instinctively dislike Bailey, despite the fact that I’m trying hard not to.

Because in the short time she’s been in Twelve, she’s slid into my place in both Peeta and Haymitch’s lives with complete and utter ease. Even beyond taking my place, she’s outrankedme in both men’s lives and entirely knocked me out of the saddle.

That’s what disturbs me above all else. Because—even though I’d never admit it about Haymitch—they were mine. They were my family. They were all I had. They were my haven from the darkness surrounding my entire life. The three of us were a team once.

And now it feels like she didn’t join the group, she kicked me out of it entirely. Haymitch has never had me sit on the counter of his kitchen—not that I really wanted to, the place is absolutely filthy—and talk about my problems. He’s always mocked my feelings and troubles, when they didn’t pertain to the war or rebellion.

I don’t get what is so special about this girl that the two most important people in my life are willing to just let her in. Are just willing to let her take me out without a second thought.

“I mean, is it odd that I wanted to be included?” She inquires genuinely and to my surprise, once again, my old mentor gives her a pretty thoughtful answer. For Haymitch Abernathy, at least.

“They’re both a little weird. War messes with people. Especially kids,” he murmurs and then grunts uncomfortably. “Don’t get worked up over nothing. Just let whatever happened go and try to be happy.”

For some reason, even without hearing my name mention specifically, I’m fully convinced that they’re conversing about me as well as Peeta. About our afternoon together, void from Bailey’s presence. Without hearing my own name, I still know in my bones I walked in on a talk about me.

Bailey wanted to come today and Peeta told her no? Peeta told her an unequivocal no? Because he wanted to spend time with just me?

That satisfies me beyond measure. That makes me even happier than the carefully handcrafted birthday cake did.

Suddenly, for the first time since she’s arrived in Twelve, I don’t feel like Peeta put me on the back burner to make her more comfortable. I don’t feel like I’m being slided so she can be accommodated to her liking. And that’s a better present to me than anything else I could have asked for.

“But I’m his girlfriend,” she states quietly, before sighing deeply and setting down a glass that she must have been drinking from. Risk-taker, she is. “And I just feel like every day all he thinks about is Katniss. He’s either worried about her or afraid of her.”

Now that catches me completely off-guard. Peeta’s afraid of me? Is he telling Bailey something I don’t know? What did I do that he’s so afraid of?

Please, I internally beg to no one. Please tell me he doesn’t still think of me as a mutt. Please tell me he doesn’t feel the same way about as he did in Thirteen.

No, I venomously refute. That wouldn’t make sense. If he still thought of me that way—the way Snow tried to brainwash him into—he would surely not be baking me a cake and spending an afternoon alone with me.

At least, I don’t think so.

But I’m always wrong nowadays and I long ago learned to stop trusting my instincts because they don’t any good for me in the end anyway and I just end up more jumbled and confused and stressed than I started out.

I take a deep breath to calm myself down just as Haymitch mutters, “That description isn’t a far cry from the kid I met two years ago on the tribute train.”

Evidently, I breathed out too loudly almost immediately, Haymitch barks out, “Is that you, girl?”

Realizing I’m caught, I rip off the bandaid and step out of the corner of the entryway, where I was hiding. “Sorry, I just got here,” I quickly explain. And then, despite my atrocious acting ability, I throw out for good measure, “I didn’t hear anything you guys said, I just didn’t want to interrupt.”

Neither of them believe me. In fact, they both appear pretty disgusted with me now. But when I pass Haymitch the bottle of liquor, his features shift and I feel him lightly pat me on the head as he passes me to grab a bottle opener.

“Haymitch,” Bailey murmurs unceremoniously, as she hops off the counter with a grace I have no dream of ever possessing. “I’m going to head on home.”

Her eyes meet mine for a split second before flirting away, and all I see there is irritation.

I hope she doesn’t try again to make nice in a day or so. Quite frankly, there’s a reason I never made many friends. Social interactions aren’t my thing and they just wear me out unnecessarily. Especially girls, who only want to gossip about other people or share clothes or irrelevant life tips. I’d much rather be left alone in solitude than have to yo-yo with Bailey’s mood swings.

Haymitch has always empathized with this trait of mine. More than empathized. He embodied it to the fullest, in a way I never even have. That’s what makes it so startling to me that he’s found such a friend with Peeta’s new girlfriend. It’s downright shocking how pleasant he is towards her.

When he returns now, she’s already gone and he’s right back to his surly self.

“No one clears a room like you do, sweetheart.”

But I’m not interested in swiping back and forth with one another. “Why are you hanging out with Bailey Robyn?”

Haymitch rolls his eyes as he takes a seat at his still unwashed kitchen table.

I mean, if Bailey wanted to help clean in here, that’s where I would have suggested to start.

“The better question, Katniss, is why are youhanging out with Peeta alone? How do you think that makes his girlfriend feel?”

“He’s my friend,” I argue, infuriated by the implication that I have to go through a random stranger to be around Peeta now. Infuriated that it’s Haymitch making the implication nonetheless.

“But he isn’t!” The old man snaps back. “Peeta isn’t your friend, Katniss. You look at him like he hung the moon and you do it right in front of his new girl.”

“No, I don’t,” I retort sharply, because I definitely don’tand I repel the accusation.

“Anyone with eyes can see your stupid little crush,” he exclaims and it stings. The words sting for some reason and I feel the ache in my chest come back once again, because apparently I’m stepping over a line I didn’t even know was there and I’m once again the root of every problem and it’s all becoming too much.

Evidently, Haymitch just doesn’t care if he hurts me today. “Just back off of the boy. Let him be happy for once.”

I uncharacteristically spit an unkind name at Haymitch as I slam his door in my furious wake.

Through his still open kitchen window though, I hear him chuckle. “Well, that’s one I haven’t heard before, sweetheart.”

Read More On AO3 Where The Italics Actually Work

#everlark #thg #hunger games #everlark fic #my writing #dancing on my own 💔👸🏼✨#fic #fanfic #creative writing #idk what else to tag

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bigskydreaming · 3 years

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And just FYI, I’m not TRYING to be emotionally manipulative or guilt trip people or anything here, but just speaking brutally honestly - my disengagement from Batfandom over the past couple months and how little I’ve been active in it has absolutely everything to do with just being TIRED of this fandom’s stance not just on rape fics, but the enabling of them. I mean, yeah, personally I gravitate towards Dick Grayson’s character as a rape survivor, so its super not happy fun times constantly sharing the fandom with people who are far more interested in perpetuating him as a rape victim, emphasis on his repeated sexual victimization in fics where his placement as a character-to-be-violated is the literal DRAW for readers.

(And ever notice how its the character MOST acknowledged as a rape survivor, SPECIFICALLY.....who is also the one people are MOST interested in writing as a further rape victim.....I’m not even talking about in the context of canon events, but specifically creating further scenarios in which he’s raped by characters who never raped him in canon, in numbers FAR greater than people create these scenarios for other characters. Oh, its not limited to just him, obviously, I’m aware these fics exist for all the characters, and in large numbers, but does it not strike anyone as like.....particularly odious, that the clear frontrunner for this particular form of sexual victimization-as-a-draw in fics just so happens to be the character most noted as a survivor already? Just saying, the fact that this particular character and this particular status seems to draw in people not just interested in him BECAUSE it makes him a survivor....but equally, people interested in him BECAUSE of his having been made a victim.....is....umm. Its umm. Let’s just call it umm.)

But what gets to me even more than that is just the willful refusal in a fandom that CHOOSES to keep the subject of rape front and central to so much of its works....to allow for ANY critical discussion of rape itself whatsoever. You’ll pull out all the stops in examining the trauma of rape in some fics, sure, but this fandom absolutely will not allow critical examination of the ISSUE of rape itself.

And that’s abso-fucking-lutely because of how much this fandom has COMMODIFIED rape and incest and pedophilia, and how much it fuels the engines of fandom content production. Its commercialized in this fandom in particular, and its so high-prized a commodity in terms of fic content, that even most people who don’t have any particular interest in these types of fic content themselves deem it too costly to speak up on the matter, because they’re afraid to lose followers who DO like it.

And THAT’S what gets to me.

Those of you who will be like I’m not taking a side here, but absolutely take a side as you’ll freely reblog posts about fandom purity and censorship but not a single point to the contrary. When you only air one side of an argument, guess what? You’ve picked a side. Whether or not you agree with it or every bit of it doesn’t matter, you’re still signal boosting it while refusing to examine or boost any point said against it. I reblog stuff all the time that I don’t agree with every single line of or point made in....but the point is I agree with ENOUGH of it that I’d rather boost it for others’ consideration rather than pass by it because it doesn’t one hundred percent accurately reflect everything I believe and only that. (And yet funnily enough, I’m the ideological puritan, remember?)

You can’t be like, I’m going to continue to encourage shutting down every critical mention of fandom problems in this or other regards while refusing to do anything or even signal boost people attempting to critically examine or just encouraging others to be more critical about this stuff......and think that like, you’re not still being an active part of the fandom ecosystem there that keeps this fandom environment being as everpresent as it is.

If it feels like you’re in this picture and you don’t like it, maybe its cuz you’re in this picture and getting pissed at the picture-takers doesn’t ever do anything to change that or your discomfort with being in the fucking picture here.

I can get literally anything I say in this fandom reblogged EXCEPT for so much as even a single thing I say on this particular subject, and you can try and blame that on my temper or aggression or hostility or word choice but I’ve been making these posts for years in this fandom at this point, and in all that time, I’ve done so in a variety of ways and the fact that still none of them, not a single one, no matter WHAT tone its in, has EVER gotten more than a handful of notes from my Batfam followers and only ever catch on because of my older TW followers or people who follow me BECAUSE of my stances on this and other subjects.....like. (Its funny how few people seem to mind my attitude or posting style when I’m talking about Dick’s treatment by the Batfam or DC itself or when in my asks trying to point and aim me at other characters’ fans like a bonafide attack dog, lolol, I’m just saying).

I’ve talked to people in this fandom about this very subject of how being critical of rape fics is NOT the same as being anti-sex or in search of moral purity, and I know damn well they understand my point there because they even acknowledged it themselves and said okay, I understand the nuance you’re making there.....and then they turn around and keep reblogging all those fandom purity posts even after admitting they GET now that its not actually an accurate representation of the issues and thus a false flag to raise and pass around.....and yet they keep participating in passing it around, with not a word to the contrary.

And hell, it doesn’t even need to be my posts that get around....its not like I see anyone reblogging anyone else’s critical posts on this particular subject either, even while reblogging the stuff mocking such posts or stances.

I’m just saying. I’m very keenly aware of all that, and its exhausting.

This isn’t a dramatic omg I’m running away from fandom post, I’m not going anywhere, I still have plenty of things to say and write about Dick Grayson and I’m ultimately here for me and not anyone else so I’ll continue to do so, but like.....its just a its been depressing as hell to be in this particular fandom lately, and wearying, and just thought some of you might like to know that in case you feel like doing anything about it ever, to maybe make it a little more inviting and engaging to those of us who AREN’T here to see the rapists keep raping the characters we identify with and gravitate towards as survivors.

(And if your go-to response here or first thought is “some people write it to cope” - great, what I’m saying here is that’s not true for everyone, and whatever the experience of writing it does for them in that regard does not actually change my position on what the experience of seeing it shared and proliferated publicly in such huge quantities without allowing for any kind of criticism of this (which is actually a separate matter entirely) does for others. And that this ENVIRONMENT is actually COUNTER to other survivors’ coping, so you can’t claim that your stance on this subject is based on what’s best for survivors’ coping when its ACTUALLY based on what’s best for the coping of survivors who also happen to feed the fandom further sexy rape fic content......and uh, just FYI for anyone who isn’t a survivor themselves, whomever this might apply to - that’s literally just commodifying and exploiting the survivorship of those whose coping mechanisms happen to serve your personal self-interests and if you don’t get how that’s gross as hell, like, I don’t even know what to tell you there.)

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ravens-words · 4 years

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RNM Creators Week, Day 1- Dynamics

Michael Sanders AU series By @prouvaireafterdark

I don't think there's anyone in the fandom who hasn't read this series (if you haven't, do it right now!) and it might be my favorite AU in this fandom. Michael and Walt's dynamic is fucking phenomenal and so so realistic and true to the characters. Sanders isn't someone we know very well, but this author has managed to make me feel like I do know him. His voice, his mannerism, his actions, the gruff affection- it's all there!!! Michael himself is a bit different here, but again, it's a testament to this author's understanding of the character that he doesn't seem OOC. This is a Michael who grew up in a loving home, with someone who cared about him, and it shows in his interactions with Alex and with Walt. I won't talk about the Malex in this because then I'll never shut up about it but I will say this: it's beautiful and you will cry, especially in the last fic.

Shadow Work By @myrmidryad

This one is a favorite of mine (you'll be reading that a lot, lol). It's a work of art, truly. It's detailed, it's vivid and it can be fucking scary at times. The world building is amazing, but what truly won me over was the dynamics. Alex with Michael were especially exceptional; their history, their attraction; their issues- all incredibly thought out and amazing. Alex with Kyle, Maria, Isobel and Max were nuanced, realistic and true to the characters, too. You will not regret this read, I guarantee it.

To Trust Love By Laughsalot3412

This was the first Malex fic I read, and I still go back and read it from time to time. It's heavy on the angst, but it makes up for it in the end. This fic has it all, and when I say that, I mean it. Epic love? Check. Amazing characterization? Check. Pod squad being the best siblings and loving each other?Kyle and Liz being amazing friends to Alex? Check. I will forever mourn the fact that this author never wrote another RNM fic.

Who can you call? @bestillmyslashyheart

Liz and Alex friendship!!! I wish we got in cannon what we got in this fic- a solid, well executed friendship between these two. Their dynamic here is so so cute and lovely. They got to be there for each other in ways we didn't get to see in cannon. And I loved that.

You Can Fight the Hurricane By Milzila (WIP)

This fic. THIS FIC!!! It's a Pacific Rim AU that I adore. It truly has everything. It's exciting, it's fun, it's flirty and it shines when it comes to characterization. Some authors just seem to get characters and this one is just like that. Malex's back and forth was phenomenal. Also, the memory sequence made me freaking emotional (this whole fic made me emotional)

Spend my life as a loaded gun By @flint-manes

This series is amazing. I'm a little behind on reading the rest of the works, but the first three are a dream. If you're a fan of Flint Manes or just the Manes brothers dynamic, then reading this is a must. It's got Kyle, Michael and Gregory and Alex interacting with Flint in ways that are very realistic and very beautiful. It's exceptional, really.

My love is a life taker By @jocarthage

Time Travel AU excellence. The first time in which time travel was not associated with catastrophic events and was actually used for good. This fic is freaking epic. I'm a little behind on reading, but I cannot wait to finish it and I'm sure it will not disappoint. It literally is perfection. It's nuanced, it's angsty, it deals with sensitive subjects in a delicate yet unapologetic manner and it's something I appreciate. Alex shines in this fic, and after reading it, you will love him even more, even if you think it's not possible. Rosa and Alex, Kylex, the pod squad- they're all there and engaging and you'll always want more. Kylex especially is written wonderfully, they're given a chance to build their friendship in a way they weren't allowed to onscreen. Malex are heartbreaking most of the time, but they're also given the chance to be playful and fun and comfortable with each other.

....

(Note: I know nothing about this event. I just saw a bunch of the people I'm following do it and I decided to do it too because I've been meaning to rec some of my favorite fics and this is the perfect chance. So if someone could please tell me about the other days so I can be better prepared, that would be great 😂

Also, if you know the tumblr handles for any of the authors I didn't mention, please let me know)

#rnmcreate2020 #fic rec #alex manes #michael guerin #kyle valenti #liz ortecho #max evans #isobel evans #malex

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andrea-lyn · 4 years

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Return of the recs, and after this, I’m going to get a master document together for this. Today, four RNM recs and one Agent Carter!

Agent Carter

The Song Remains The Same by sholio

After a lab accident, Peggy wakes up in 1948, with no memories of anything since early 1946.

This fic sold me on this threesome. It’s Peggy/Jack/Daniel, and it involves Peggy losing her memory and forgetting everything about her relationship with the two men. It’s got action and case-fic, but the really clever aspect about it is that it allows the reader to go along with Peggy and discover why she fell in love with the both of them. It’s an absolutely excellent read and I can’t recommend it enough.

Roswell New Mexico

Constant as the Northern Star by celzmccelz

Michael stares at Kyle. “But I’m a guy! How can I be pregnant?”

Kyle looks embarrassed. “Well, you appear to have a fully functioning set of female reproductive organs—or, I mean, like, the kind of reproductive organs that are associated with a double X-chromosome in humans, so I’d assume that you probably became pregnant when semen was introduced into your reproductive tract—”

“Jesus Christ, Kyle!” says Michael. He could have happily lived the rest of his life without ever hearing Kyle Valenti say the words “semen” and “reproductive tract.”

Kyle’s eyes widen. “Have you been having unprotected sex?”

“Oh my God, I am not having this conversation with you!”

Yes, going in, there are some warnings to be cognizant of. It’s mpreg, there’s a lot of medical stuff to go through, but I think this is my absolute favourite of the mpregs I’ve read and it actually comes down to Michael’s support system outside of Alex, namely in Kyle. There’s no sudden BFF bracelets being given, but that morality that makes Kyle Valenti who he is, that’s right there. Also, given that this is an mpreg fic, it delves into family and plot in a way that I haven’t often seen. Plus, you get the ‘getting back together’ Malex that I so deeply crave.

My love is a life taker by @jocarthage

By the time he turned 15, Captain Alex Manes had been to every war zone and unofficial conflict the United States of America was involved in. It wasn't regular practice, or even heard of, for a Colonel to bring his son along on combat missions; the exception was if the child had been identified as Time Aware, able to travel in time along their own timeline using stolen alien technology.

So here Alex Manes was, 28, and ducking bombs, killing who he’s told to. On his way back from a mission, Alex slips into another timestream. It should be impossible. But he can hear a child crying and he heads towards the sound.

This is the story of how Alex saved Michael and Michael saved Alex, with lots of time travel shenanigans and angst.

This is a WIP at this point, but I really don’t think that should stop anyone from picking it up (as we are winding down to the last bits). This story is incredible for so many reasons and one of them I continue to praise is the balance. It’s an Alex driven story, but you can break his life down into friends, mission, family, and Michael, and often those elements combine, but there’s never any update that doesn’t give you enough (imo). It’s excellent writing with engaging OCs and wonderful plot, and the most incredible love story.

fish bowl by @sabrinachill

Alex makes a series of phone calls and bad choices that lead him directly here — an Airstream on the edge of a junkyard with a distractingly attractive mechanic showing him how the dining table converts into a bed that he can sleep on for just $75 a week.

It is, of course, completely absurd.

But there’s something cozy about the fuzzy yellow blanket on the bed/table and the sparkling sunlight streaming through the mostly-clean windows, in the smell of leather and motor oil and aftershave and summer storms, in the hopeful half-smile on Michael’s face.

That’s his name — Michael. Alex’s potential new roommate and landlord.

He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, his vision blurring as he shakes his head at himself. He knows now that he has undoubtedly lost whatever shred of sanity he’d managed to hold onto through the war, because the next thing he says is—

“Yeah, okay. I’ll take it.”

(AKA An AU About Quarantined Roommates Who Fall in Love)

I highly recommend anything by @sabrinachill, but this fic is a really clear argument about why. It’s an AU that involves quarantine, and you might think ‘oh, I’ve read that before’, but then it will take you down the unexpected road that you didn’t expect to go down, but as soon as you take that twist, you instantly realize how much better it is that way. Hats off to the clever plotting not just in Fish Bowl, but other fics!

It’s a long road back to you by @magsthemagical

Michael finds out that Alex is dating Forrest and he’s okay with it, until he’s not. Maria suggests a double date to show they can all hang out as friends. But they can’t... not really.

[OR the one where Michael & Alex realize that they belong together and so they say goodbye to their respective relationships and start anew]

Honest truth time - in terms of ‘ships, while I always love people to ship and let ship, my personal preference for both Michael and Alex is one another, so both Maria/Michael and Forrest/Alex aren’t things that I usually seek out when trawling Ao3. This fic is so good to all parties involved. No one is a villain and I appreciate that they get to talk about things like Alex’s reticence to do certain things in public, but also being aware that Alex deserves to have something new as much as Michael.

#fic recs #roswell new mexico #agent carter

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fuckyeahharryhart · 3 years

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PART 5 FAN FIC

KINGSMAN III: REDACTED

Summary: Harry Hart reminisces about his own military past with the British Armed Forces. He recalls the tenent that enabled him to survive as a member of the22nd Special Air Service Regiment (SAS), a unit of United Kingdom Special Forces.

WORD COUNT: 3377

Notes: These later chapters have had less time to plan - kind of literally trying things on to see what fits... :)

-----

In person, Harry Hart was also a man who had to make impossible decisions under unrelenting pressure. He had done it many times, during his time in the British Armed Forces, not just Kingsman. Many thought him to be cold and unfeeling in these instances. But even within these circumstances, he was still Harry Hart. Brave, dependable, strong and honourable. He was an advocate, a protector, an anchor. A rock within the Kingsman agency. Everything a mentor and leader should be. If fellow agents found themselves more and more often at his side, they would catch themselves beginning to wonder about the man who wore the impeccably tailored suit. The man behind the smooth, deep, steady voice. About the man himself. The man whose code name was Galahad.

He was an agent that lived up to his handle. It was a noble name. Courageous. A name for a figure renowned for his gallantry and purity. A name bestowed upon the most perfect of all knights. It befitted him.

Harry was a gentleman through and through. It was impossible for him to be anything else. He was not only a gentleman in traditional terms, an upholder of chivalry, civility, well-mannered and unerringly polite. He was also a gentle man. This would seem incongruous with his work. However, it was part of the reason he was exceedingly good at his job. As soon as the work was done, the target neutralised, the mission complete, he let it all go. Letting any hardness or indifference fall away. Completely. He consistently put his life and the lives of others on the line, many times in very unpleasant circumstances, to say the least. To maintain a sense of balance, to maintain his sanity, not to speak of his humanity, the moment he took off his glasses, he was no longer Agent Galahad, he was Harry Hart.

Deadly assassins were not typically regarded as gentle. But Harry was not by nature a violent man. Neither was he destructive or combative, unlike many of his contemporaries who were drawn to the work because of its brutal nature. Harry was a Kingsman agent because he believed strongly in their purpose to uphold the good and protect the innocent, but also because he was just exceptionally good at the work. The art of spy craft and engagement. Exceedingly good. Disconcertingly good. In the same way one might be a talented piano player, or dancer or an artist. Like Gwendolyn mentioned, it was part a part of him.

He never questioned these skills. He considered them as natural to his character as his height or his brown eyes. He lived them for the majority of his life. He applied them in a manner that would best serve himself and the greater good.

Though he never spoke of it, most of his experience prior to Kingsman, he received during his training and deployment in the British Armed Forces. When he left the military, he was an officer of the 22nd Special Air Service Regiment (SAS), a unit of United Kingdom Special Forces, a highly trained and specialised division of the British Army.

If Kingsman was the buffer that had honed and polished Harry Hart into the refined gentleman agent he was today, the SAS was chisel that first carved the man out of the potential stone. The SAS Special Forces had much in common with Kingsman. Special operations were already a part of his lifestyle. Much like the agents of Kingsman, the men of SAS were especially designated, organised, selected, trained and equipped. They utilised unconventional techniques and modes of employment.

The 22nd Special Air Service Regiment was responsible for covert reconnaissance, counter-terrorism, direct action, unconventional warfare and hostage rescue. Much of the information and actions regarding the SAS were highly classified, and were never commented on by the British government nor the Ministry of Defence due to the sensitivity of their operations. For Harry, discretion was not just advised, it was demanded.

He operated behind enemy lines, avoiding direct combat and detection by the enemy. He led commando operations, highly mobile , highly intense surprise raids. His role frequently involved covert direction of air and missile attacks, in areas deep behind enemy lines, placement of remotely monitored sensors and guerrilla operations.

The similarities only went so far. SAS utilised more traditional weapons of combat and warfare, riffles, machine guns, flash bangs, grenades. Whereas Kingsman had the freedom to me more creative, or constraints that made it necessary for additional ingenuity with it’s artillery, often fashioning gentlemanly accessories into lethal weapons. The SAS formal dress khaki uniforms weren’t as stylish and well tailored as Kingsman’s suits, but he did note that as SAS, the cap badge on his sand coloured beret depicted a downward pointing Excalibur, a sword wreathed in flames. Perhaps the sword was a foreshadow of his future as one of the twelve Kingsman’s knights.

If any of his colleagues were to know of his history with the SAS, the would probably respond with confusion. It wasn’t that they didn’t believe Harry Hart to to have the necessary skills. It was that they couldn’t imagine, their stylish, debonair, perfectly appointed quintessential gentleman secret agent in any other role other than Galahad. They were much more familiar with Harry in a Kingsman suit, taking out thugs with his weaponised brolly, rather than the iconic black overalls and the S6 British Army respirator of the SAS, carrying a Heckler and Koch MP5A3, or a C8 Carbine assault rifle, as well as any other item or weapon he might need in battle.

For those agents that were employed long enough with Kingsman, or heard stories passed around the years, it was suspected that Harry was a part of the Counter Revolutionary Blue team for Operation Nimrod during the Iranian Embassy siege. In 1980, from April 30th for a period of 6 days, a band of six heavily armed men overtook the Iranian Embassy in London. 26 people were held hostage. On the last day, after days of unsuccessful negotiations, the gunmen executed a hostage and threw his dead body from the Embassy windows. On that day, the SAS, implemented Operation Nimrod by abseiling from the roof of the embassy and breaking the windows for entry. The raid was over in just over 15 minutes. They were able to rescue all but one hostage and killed all but one of the six hostage takers. No one could confirm whether he had been involved or not. No one had the nerve or balls to ask Harry directly.

The last time Harry was on a mission of similar nature, was the capture of Falcon, a terrorist in the Middle East. He, Merlin and their recruits at the time, James and Lee, fast roped into enemy territory. Fast roping, also known as Fast Rope Insertion Extraction System (FRIES), was a technique for descending a thick rope to access difficult locations by air. It useful for Kingsman to deploy agents into enemy territories where their helicopter could not touch down. Unfortunately, that was the mission where Harry’s mistake cost Eggsy’s father’s life. That was the last time anyone ever saw the sight of Harry in a combat jumpsuit and respirator for a mission.

“Who Dares Wins.” It was the motto of the SAS unit of the British Army Special Forces. During his time in the service, this motto was the catalyst for many dangerous operations. In regards to Kingsman, he also found it appropriate as spies weren’t in the business of truth.

The selection for the Special Forces was as brutal as Kingsman recruitment, just in different ways.They would, however, fight for the title of the most dangerous job interview in the world. SAS selection was reported to be one of the most demanding military training courses in the world with a pass rate of less than 10%. It was a six-month test of strength, endurance, and resolve over the Brecon Beacons and Elan Valley in Wales, and in the jungle of Belize. With SERE Survive, Evade, Resist, Escape training to be the most psychologically challenging aspect. A Kingsman recruit had a one in 12 chance of securing said spot. It was also a test of strength, endurance and resolve mostly over the land and sky of London and the surrounding country side. It also included some fairly challenging psychological tests including one with a train tunnel with a false floor and another with a puppy and a gun. Many candidates failed out at this point. It took about the same amount of time.

In the field, he was indispensable. His experience in the military prepared him for life as a spy. He was exceptional at nearly every aspect of being an agent as he was as a soldier. Harry was able to fit seamlessly into Kingsman’s ranks because he already had specialised skills and experience. He was a highly-trained operative, specialised in sufficiency, stealth, speed, and tactical coordination. If there was a man designed to be a Kingsman agent, Harry Hart would be that man.

——

He did not get any enjoyment from destruction, violence or bloodshed. However, he was not opposed to participating or even instigating moments of sheer mayhem. During the course of his time at Kingsman, he had obliterated many targets and had amassed a shockingly high body count. He didn’t carry any guilt or blame, nor did he celebrate the bloodshed that resulted in their victory over a target. Harry simply accepted violence as part and parcel to the work of a Kingsman agent. To be limited, when possible, though, not altogether unavoidable.

Emotions played an important role in how he operated in life, in the greater world around him. Emotions were a path to a deeper understanding of one’s self and one’s relationships with others. They motivated one’s actions or inactions. Feelings, along with survival instincts were key to one’s decision making processes. But when there was too much or when the emotion was overwhelming, as it could be in extreme cases of conflict or in the chaos of combat, it could make a soldier dysfunction. One of the tenets that had allowed him to not only survive, but to thrive in the military was “be smart now, feel later.”

Part of his success in the SAS was due to his ability to “switch off” his emotions on-demand in moments of chaos or conflict; combat, crises and other high stress activities, basically his entire time in service. He carried this over to his work at Kingsman. His ambivalence allowed him to remain cool, composed and collected in some very unnerving, seemingly impossible situations. In these instances, when other agents might panic, freeze, or be blinded by outrage, fall victim to their own anger and lose control, time would almost freeze for Harry. Allowing him very few precious moments to hyper focus on every minute detail of the circumstance they faced. His senses would sharpen, his mind would calm, his heart rate would slow and remain steady and even. His mind would become a blank slate where every piece of information crucial to their survival was at his fingertips. Irrelevant information fell by the wayside. Emotion was set aside. Sentimentality had no place. Feelings were insignificant.

Agents who accompanied Harry on the field and found themselves is one of these dire situations, would attest to this severe, drastic, unyielding and unfamiliar Agent Galahad. Someone who could evidently act without regard for their safety, well-being, or even survival. At times, even purposely placing them in even more danger or putting another agents lives on the line as if they were inconsequential to him. He would act as if it was nothing to leave behind an injured agent if it could protect the mission. It was as if they were as insignificant to him as an empty clip, a weapon that no longer had any use to him. To be discarded and tossed aside. During these times, Harry would be the cold, dispassionate, ruthless killer that was his reputation.

It was in these hard, stone-faced moments, where he fell into a meditative state or even hypnotised himself in the matter of seconds. Sometimes, only a split second was needed for him to see the solution, the way out, the answer that would get them out of what seemed like a “death and death” situation.

Emotions defined his humanity. But it also could get in the way when he needed to be operative. Thus, on occasion, he had to defer his humanity and be cold and analytical in the field, just as he had been in battle.

In these crucial moments, he needed to see all his available choices and not just what his state of emotions gravitated toward. The more severe an emotional response was expected from any given situation, the more likely it could negatively impact his ability to resolve a difficult task, complication or crisis.

Occasionally, that solution had to disregard his agents humanity, for that sentimentality would surely cloud his judgement, make him hesitate or doubt himself at the most critical moment. They could no longer be considered friends, or even colleagues. It was necessary to strip them of their identity, regard them without pity or remorse. As collateral damage. How hard would it be to achieve this state with family or loved ones, he thought. It was in these times that pure logic had to drive his actions and not be directed by his emotions.

Emotional detachment meant that he could focus and think clearly and act with precision in matters of life and death.

In these moments, there was space in his mind for nothing else except the situation at hand. And without fail, often past the point of all hope lost, no more options, no more cards to play, he would act in a manuever that was incomprehensible to them. Unthinkable. A tactic unfathomable and impossible for anyone else but Harry. Everyone, even the agent he seemingly had no problem disregarding, would come out alive. Often disbelieving, shell-shocked, nerves shot, not unscathed. Confused and outraged. But alive. Agents who experienced this side of Harry Hart, while they continued to admire and respect him, their esteem would now also carry a touch of reverence, incredulity, and awe.

Soldiers and agents not personally involved or had no emotional interest in their work, were able to perform their jobs better. It was a form of professional detachment.

It was not that he was unfeeling. Quite the opposite. It was as if he felt too much. His ability to remove and distance himself from situations was one of the main reasons he was so successful as an agent and continued to be so. Without this survival skill, the inevitable, at times, devastating losses he had faced, and would no doubt face in the future, would break even a better man. Though one would be hard pressed to find a man better than Harry.

What was seen as dispassionate, emotionless indifference was a preservation mechanism, designed to fiercely safeguard and defend a singularly compassionate soul, with a deep reverence for human life, and an immeasurable capacity to love.

But he had never been put in as difficult a position as Merlin.

———

There were not many stories that affected Harry on both a personal and professional level, but in terms of having a difficult past lead you down the path of becoming a spy, he found hers to be the most compelling. He was, not only impressed by her skills as an agent, he was moved by her emotional resilience, fortitude, courage, and most of all, like she said her mother had, her grit.

This was a young woman, whose odds were not just against her, they were set up for her to fail and fail hard. Who was able to overcome the most brutal experiences that anyone can face, let alone a child, and come out, not only adjusted, but stronger for her experience. The last time he had witnessed such strong will and raw, natural talent, was Eggsy. And Eggsy’s father.

He sensed what she was going to ask. What would be the ramifications if she were to join Kingsman? They could certainly use the manpower. Their ranks had been severely depleted since the Golden Circle. Merlin’s expertise and guidance was missed almost as much as they missed the man himself. He understood why Merlin, Hamish, sent her away. A constant reminder of not only the lives he lost, but also the terrible way they were taken from him. A reminder of the life he had sacrificed so much for. The constant fear for her safety. Every time she was out in the field, wondering if he had to prepare for another situation like his wife. For Harry and Eggsy, she would always be a reminder of the friend they lost and the sacrifice he made.

He softened. How would it be, to have everyone send you away because your presence would only be a painful reminder of loss?

Eggsy turned to face him, looking absurdly forlorn as well. Like she was a lost puppy that he wanted to keep.

She smoothed her hair away from her face, brushing the length of it behind her while she squared up her shoulders.

She spoke frankly. “You are the last link that I have to my father. I want to take his place.”

When neither of them replied. She added plainly.

“You clearly have some issued that need to be addressed.” Referring to the car with the shooters and that someone was actively trying to kill them.

“It looks like you could use the help.”

Harry, in his most grave and serious voice, a voice that made even Eggsy straighten up.

“This decision on your part, should not be taken easily or lightly.” He watched her intently. He leaned forward to emphasis his point. “Do you understand all of the ramifications of your choice? You could find yourself in the exact same situation you were in when you were a child. Is that a possibility you can handle?”

Also leaning forward, she matched the seriousness of his tone.

“I have no family, no connections, no ties. I have nothing of value that can be used against me. I’m a trained and experienced agent. I was raised Kingsman and there is nothing of your organization that has been hidden from me. I understand very well.”

Not anything of value now, Harry thought. But considering the future? Yet Harry himself was of the same mentality as Merlin and his wife. Nothing came out of acting now for an eventuality that may never materialise.

There was silence from the two men. She certainly wasn’t going to plead or beg. She had done her part. She told her story. If they couldn’t recognise her value, she would leave right then and there.

She tried to hide her sarcasm, but she wasn’t sure if she succeeded. She leaned back into her booth, crossed her arms over her chest. With a bit of added confrontation.

“I’ve just saved your lives. What else do I have to do to prove myself?”

Harry contemplated. Eggsy contemplated the same. Even though they didn’t know what the other was thinking, they were both thinking the same. We are agreed. For Merlin.

Harry faced her again and with all of nobility, chivalry and honour that was based on centuries of tradition. “Welcome to Kingsman.”

Gwendolyn, in equal measures of dignity and respect. “Thank you.”

Now that was done, she thought, with a little more drama than she expected, but it had all been manageable.

“So it seems we have a problem. How can I help?”

And with that simple question, Gwendolyn found herself within the ranks of Kingsman.

----

Notes:

Thanks for reading! Comments, suggestions feedback always welcome and appreciated. Even if it's just to say Hi!

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emletish-fish · 6 years

Text

Worst Prisoner rambly notes!

Lovely readers,

In these notes I'll ramble about Aang and Zuko's relationship, birthdays in ATLA, the northern lights, and Pakku's growth.

So this chapter was a little more serious, but I hope you all enjoyed it anyway.

Aang is actually under a huge amount of pressure in the seige of the Northern Water Tribe. He's twelve, he's only just started water-bending. He's struggling with the Avatar state. Yet everyone expects him just to solve the problem.

But jeez, it's a huge ask for the poor kid. Look at him, he’s so nervous!

I just wanted Aang to have someone he could confide in about how much his responsibilities freak him out. It's a little awkward for him to tell Sokka and Katara, because they had a very obvious vested interest in the outcome. I think he would choose to confide these things in Zuko.

I just think he would be a good listener for Aang's struggles. He encourages Aang to be more honest about his fears and responsibilities, and Aang in turn, feels like there is someone who is listening to him non-judgmentally. Aang is a massive people-pleaser who has a hard time saying things he knows people won’t like, but he isn’t as worried about that with Zuko. Developing more honest communication can only be a good thing for Aang’s growth.

Also, I just love their friendship, okay!

So ATLA takes place nearly over a year. I reckon everyone would have had a birthday at some point during ATLA. Sokka's was in the autumn, so he'll have to wait until after the comet. I think Katara, Zuko, Aang and Toph would have been born in their corresponding season. Powerful earthbenders are born in spring. Powerful firebenders are born in summer (though I think Zuko's birthday is late summer – for reasons I'll get into if I ever get around to writing season 3). Katara is born in mid-winter, the time for badass waterbenders.

I ascribe to the theory that Air Nomads engaged in big procreating solstice festivals* – but the result would be everyone would be born around the same time. This time would be around the autumn equinox. So I think the Air nomads would probably celebrate everyone's birthdays in a two-week long festival.

*Imagine Zuko's surprise when he finally steels himself to have “the talk” with Aang, only to find out group sex/orgies is what Aang perceives as normal.

I think the Water Tribes wouldn't do extravagant presents, as they are people of limited resources. Instead they would give practical gifts, and honour each year with a practical gift that the child would need, up until they reach the age of adulthood. I think these gifts would be gender segregated, eg hunting stuff for the boys, and housework stuff for the girls. So Katara gets her bone needles.

I think the Fire Nation would probably do birthday candles and individual gifts. We see when he is dating Mai that Zuko, other faults aside, is actually quite a generous boyfriend. Some of this comes from him being in a position of wealth and opulence during the relationship, but I also think generosity is in his nature. Zuko was willing to give that knife to a kid he had only just met when he had next to nothing, just so Lee would feel safe. It doesn't feel like a stretch that he would try to give the knife to Katara. I think he would have lost track of time a little bit, hence his surprise that her birthday is so soon.

He gives it to her because it's her birthday and he wants to give her something nice. But it really is the only thing his got. This would be one of the moments where the loss of his status would really bother him, because he really doesn't have two coppers to rub together at this point. He's a prince with a generous nature who can't spoil his girlfriend on her birthday, and that's gotta suck.

He just wants to do nice things for her. So he gives her a metaphorical piece of himself.

He also has an ulterior motive for giving the knife to her. He wants to know someone will tell his Uncle what happened to him, just in case. He doesn't want to just disappear on Iroh the way his mum disappeared on him. (He is confident that no matter what goes down, Katara is going to live through sheer stubbornness. He knows what a badass his girlfriend is). The movement of the armada has made Zuko re-examine how precarious his position is, when previously he had been lulled into a false sense of well-being because he was getting' some.

I think Zuko would be in a more pessimistic frame of mind after having to write to his dad and the realisation that he's on a ticking clock before he's deemed no longer useful. The request for a letter to his dad would have thrown him. Zuko would realise for the first time that he doesn't really have anything to say to his father; I mean anything that he would feel safe saying to his father. He can communicate quite freely with his Uncle, but he has never been able to talk to his father.

The northern lights are great! But I didn't want to call them that in this fic because I think they would happen in the south as well, just like we get the Aurora Australis sometimes. So I called them spirit-lights instead. I think this would have been a particularly amazing display. There are heaps of legends regarding the northern lights, but red is consistently interpreted as foretelling war and death.

Tui has been watching this whole time, and been very entertained. I haven't said anything was a metaphor for their love for a while, so I'll say it here. The fish are a metaphor for their love! I just really enjoy the balance, the push and pull, that was present in Zutara. They pushed each other to grow into better people. They pulled each other forward, and pulled each other up when the other was down. They grounded each other, supported each other and understood each other. Rather than being locked into stagnant roles, one giver and one taker, they had such a beautiful balance between them.

So the Frozen Pit is quite dark and spooky – and the origin of all cannibalistic rumours! Pakku's thought back when the Gaang first arrived about how glad he was that the tribe no longer imprisoned people was in reference to this place. The Northern Water Tribe has always been very unwelcoming to foreigners. I think that there is always a dark side to isolationist policies that dehumanises “other” people. In a war-torn world, full of refugees, (who are willing to walk across deserts, and other life threatening geographical obstacles) the Northern Water Tribe is actually an ideal refuge. Yet no one tries it. I think there was a very strong good reason for that.

So Pakku is not very supportive of Katara's relationship with Zuko here, but I honestly don't think he would be. They had to be explicitly forbidden from one another by someone, and Pakku was my guy for that! The Northern Water Tribe has had a policy of isolation for over 80 years. That does not make it the most welcoming place for an inter-racial relationship.

I think Pakku would be tolerant of people from other nations and feel compassion for them (eg. his deep regret about the frozen pit). However he does not want any foreigners marrying into his tribe/family. His threat against Zuko isn't anything personal. He doesn't have a problem with Zuko per-see, but he certainly has a problem with Katara dating outside the tribes, especially someone who is “the enemy”. Like all white-lotus, Pakku is working towards maintaining balance, but I think he would see that balance as everyone staying in their own nations, rather than mixing. (Hey-hey, kinda like Bryke in the comics!)

Pakku is incredibly set in his ways and very inflexible in his thinking. He was willing to make sure Aang was never able to master either water-bending or the Avatar state just so he could maintain an extremely sexist custom and belief in male superiority.

He let Katara learn waterbending for very personal reasons, but he didn't let any other girls learn did he? The lead up to war would have been a great time for that sweeping change in gender roles, with women being taught to fight based on sheer practicality. There is a very real threat coming and logically, everyone knowing basic self defence would have been beneficial. But we don't see that.

I think Pakku developed a personal attachment to Katara, and she did make him question some of his values. However, shifting perceptions of a man that age takes a lot, and Katara's got other shit to do. Pakku is going to have to do some of the growing on his own, and he is also going to have to have a solid mistake to learn from – rather than some nebulous realisation of the fact that he has been a dick to women for sixty years.

Pakku is very controlling here. He is used to being listened to and getting his own way. I think now that Pakku sees Katara as family, he would feel entitled to a say in who she dates. He honestly thinks he's doing the right thing, to “protect her from herself” here, and that is part of the problem. It does come from a place of love, but there is a hell of a lot of rigid ideas about gender and relationships in that place too.

Next chapter: Everything will change when the Fire Nation attacks!

#the worst prisoner #emletish writes #emletish rants #emletish fic #zuko #katara #sokka #aang #pakku #toph #zutara

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driftingglass · 6 years

Note

You: I want to protect Deku from all the harm in the world!! / Also you: *ships him with the very person who caused him suffering for 10 years*... huh, okay

I actually kind of want to thank you for being cordial about this instead of just… insulting me anonymously like others.

Granted, I just ignore them/delete them, but still. It’s appreciated.

Since you honestly seem a little bit curious and confused, I want to answer this with a more specific response! So thank you for being reasonable about it.

There are some things I want to clear up first.

You’re completely entitled to your opinion on a ship, my anonymous friend, and I also respect and understand why people hate the ship and even Bakugou as a character.

Do I share the same feelings? No, not at all, but I definitely understand it.

It would be dreadfully boring if every human who experienced the same artistic medium had the same exact opinions and points of views on a character/ship, no?

At least, I would think so. I love the variety in opinion and watching different people fall in love with anime/books/movies, whatever, in totally different ways and coming out of them with multiple conclusions is wonderful to witness.

It… almost feels similar to getting angry with someone for picking green as their favorite color, and because it’s not your favorite color you argue about how the different shades don’t make sense and shouldn’t be acknowledged as a favorite.

(Not you, specifically, Anon, but more of a general “you,” if that makes sense.)

Alright. So.

What draws me to the the Bakugou Katsuki / Izuku Midoriya ship, and the two characters individually (as well as their canon dynamic) is based on the concept of healing, forgiveness, growth, redemption, understanding, mutual respect, and genuine deep-rooted pain and realistic acknowledgement of the gratuitous and toxic elements of their relationship.

And this only scratches the surface, believe it or not.

Yes, Bakugou Katsuki treated Izuku horribly while growing up (hell, he’s still an egotistical asshole). The infamous line in the manga/anime with Katsuki suggesting Izuku “find a Quirk in the next life” is inexcusable, and he should be held accountable for this.

We’ve been allowed glimpses of their dismantled friendship at Katsuki’s doing, and Izuku’s equally flawed and dangerous perspective in placing Katsuki on a pedestal for his admiration.

Before I go further with this, I want to touch on things about how I view Izuku as a character, since something in your anonymous message struck me, with the quote you had written:

“You: I want to protect Deku from all the harm in the world!!”

The thing is, when it comes to characters, and Izuku in particular… I don’t think I’ve ever adopted the mindset of “must protect the precious baby,” because I personally view Izuku as a very relatable and human character.

I know that this doesn’t cancel one idea out from the other, since many wonderful authors/readers/viewers/consumers, whatever, who like BNHA have this same viewpoint. Clearing this up so that nothing is miscommunicated.

So.

This may seem strange, and a bit… actually yeah this is a little weird, but as a viewer, I see him as someone who strives for an incredible goal, is very determined, much stronger than he appears (and believes) both emotionally and physically, and it’s slowly becoming a surprise to both himself and everyone around him.

But I see him as not just a character, per say, but a definite reflection of the other side to his dynamic to Bakugou Katsuki.

(Will touch more on this later.)

He’s been acknowledged as a beloved presence, and I actually don’t like viewing Izuku as a “precious cinnamon roll,” because he’s so much more than that.

QUICK NOTE HERE: I do not think it’s wrong to think of him this way. This is how I personally think, and how I want to hopefully portray the character in fics I write, or just in a general acknowledgement of him.

He’s a character that thrives on a complex personality and series of motivations that make sense for a character his age, with his history, and with his flaws and strengths as a protagonist.

Izuku being “adorable” falls to the very bottom of my list of reasons why I love and relate to him as a character, and when he engages in horrible situations that challenge him, I live for those moments.

(I know I’m not alone in this. Bear with me.)

I love seeing characters like this suffer and get thrashed and struggle in the face of their darkest times. It shows depth, and a sense of darkness that defies the overly comfortable image that comes across in an anime that is, quite objectively, a bit less of a risk-taker in the earlier arcs in comparison to others.

So, with that in mind… it makes sense why people can’t stand Bakugou Katsuki as a character for treating Izuku like he does, and it also makes sense why Izuku is shipped with just about anyone who can grant him that feeling of “must protect.”

Again, there is nothing wrong with this.

In fact, I want to point out, for the sake of people who can’t stand BakuDeku and enjoy other ships, that I see, respect, and completely understand why you feel the way you feel.

There’s even a strong sense of admiration for it, because you wonderful people are coming from a place that wants Izuku Midoriya to have a stable dynamic.

This is an incredible, awesome, respectful thing, and shows so much love for Izuku as a character.

So at this point, it may seem that I’m arguing against myself. That I’m shoving my own argument into the ground for why BakuDeku is my Number Two OTP, and how I’m arguing for its validity.

But, this is where I want to put some light onto the perspective that I have for this ship, and I don’t think I’ve ever gone this deep before on Tumblr.

I mentioned a little bit earlier that part of what makes Izuku shine as a character is how he affects other people. He brings out elements of characters that they won’t even realize themselves. (Todoroki Shouto, Shinsou Hitoshi, and All Might are both huge, and popular, examples of this, even though they’re not the only ones).

His drive and his motivations are directed towards an incredible goal that is founded in the roots of his passion. And this aspect of Izuku? This passion, this drive, this embodiment of equal strengths and flaws balancing and cancelling each other out as he grows and learns?

They are reflected in none other than Bakugou Katsuki.

I’m in love with the depth to this dynamic, with the potential that’s built on what they could accomplish together.

Izuku cares deeply for Katsuki, and admires him and respects him, but even with that in mind he knows that Katsuki is an asshole. It’s important to acknowledge this, that Izuku will not let Katsuki take advantage of him in any way.

And Katsuki, quite evidently, hasn’t attempted to take advantage of Izuku at all; in fact, he’s been only focused on what he wants to accomplish, and is overly obsessed with Izuku potentially surpassing him and “looking down on him” (as confirmed in the story.)

Katsuki is dreadfully immature in a lot of ways, but the fact that they contain so many similar ambitions, balanced on top of a quite impressive tower of flaws that parallel each other perfectly… this, is what draws me to them.

Izuku and Katsuki are both incredibly ambitious and determined. They both work exceptionally hard.

I wrote a list awhile back that needs to be updated again anyway, so…

Here are some general contrasts/parallels to them:

Izuku is humble, while Katsuki is egotistical.

Katsuki is prodigiously talented, while Izuku had to go the extra mile, despite them both being hard workers.

Izuku lacks self-preservation, and Katsuki looks out for himself, first and foremost, and how he will accomplish his goal.

Katsuki exhibits elements of both an intense superiority/inferiority complex, while Izuku… doesn’t.

Katsuki is more instinctive with his actions, while Izuku is analytical and a definite planner.

Izuku’s Quirk is more focused on the all-embodying element, like a supercharged mechanism that can both protect and damage in spurts. Katsuki’s Quirk is designed as more of a shield for himself only, and can release constant bursts of power. The more they develop, the more similar their Quirks can become in terms of balance.

Katsuki is exaggeratedly egotistical and lacking humility, pushing others away and immediately accepting himself as the greatest priority. Izuku is the exact opposite, but with a quality just as exaggerated and vast: his anxious hesitation and lack of confidence in himself and only believing that he can succeed with others.

Izuku’s struggles in confidence is mostly internal and how he thinks of himself. Katsuki’s confidence is both too bloated for him to handle and in the exact same plane as Izuku’s.

Izuku admires All-Might for being the ultimate protector and savior of lives with a smile on his face. Katsuki is focused on the idea of winning, and how heroes always prevail in the end.

I could go on and on with this… but yeah.

Something I noticed, as well, while writing this, is that Katsuki and Izuku’s contrasts, while very prevalent, are often rooted in similar, if not the same, bedrock of emotions that affect them differently because of their personalities.

Sometimes their points of views and emotions are so balanced and imbalanced at the same time that it takes awhile to look back and think through all of those individual moments.

And so, before this gets too unbearably wrong, I’m going to bring this home with emphasizing the main point of why I love writing this ship: it’s a challenge.

A huge. Fucking. Challenge.

It begs the question: how can you make this ship work? How can you make their potential dynamic come together and brush through those layers of misunderstandings and reckless emotions?

How can Bakugou Katsuki pull his head out of his ass and realistically come into his own while learning to appreciate the person who’s respected and admired him for so long?

How can Izuku Midoriya learn to stick up for himself when it comes to Katsuki and allow them both to be on equal ground, rather than Izuku always chasing the other?

How can they get over their differences, and develop something beautiful and, dare I say it, healthy, after a possible length of years and years of mending?

For me, this ship demonstrates the gray areas of relationships, and the possibility of redemption for even the vilest people.

For me, this ship revels in the depths of Izuku’s character as well as Katsuki’s, and how their dynamic can develop into something founded on equal respect, grounding, and healing.

For me, this ship focuses on the damaged elements to both characters and embraces the toxicity to their current circumstance, as well as the awful and wonderful elements of their relationship down the line.

For me, BakuDeku | KatsuDeku focuses on drama, realism, emotion, and the ultimate idea behind rebuilding, protecting, forgiving, and learning to pick up the pieces from one person to another.

There are no excuses for the damage done between these two.

But there is something really beautiful, and tragic, about the potential in the horizon.

So those are my thoughts.

Thank you for inboxing, Anon.

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thorne93 · 6 years

Text

Old Flame, New Problems (Part 12)

Prompt: You’re in a serious relationship with Sebastian Stan, when news from your first love informs you that he’s now single and in need of a friend. Will your old flame burn out or will the flames get fanned and consume you?

Word Count: 2773

Warning: language, angst, fighting (verbal), cheating, drama

Notes: This idea came to me when news hit about Hayden and Rachel splitting. Of course I’m sad that a long time relationship such as theirs is ending, but it also means he’s single sooo…Also, no hate towards Rachel. I don’t know her, don’t know what really happened between them, etc. It’s a fic and in no way reflects what I think of either of them or their precious daughter ^.^

Beta’d by my #1 gal @like-a-bag-of-potatoes

Forever Tags: @capsmuscles @cocosierra94 @essie1876 @magpiegirl80 @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @harleyquinnandscarletwitch @iamwarrenspeace @marvel-imagines-yes-please @superwholocked527 @myparadise1982sand @missinstantgratification @thejemersoninferno @rda1989 @marvelloushamilton @munlis @thefridgeismybestie @bubblyanarocks3 @random-fluffy-pink-unicorn @hardcollectionworldtrash @igiveupicantthinkofausername @kaliforniacoastalteens @feelmyroarrrr @kaeling

Sebastian Stan Tag: @nedthegay @lostinspace33 @alwayshave-faith @elleatrixlestrange @buenostardissherlock @lenawiinchester @the-red-world-of-jess-chibi @memory-of-a-goldfish @mellsstark @crazybutconfidentaf

Old Flame Tag: @blackwidow-romanoff @seargantbcky

~~~~~~~~~~~

He was dressed to the nines. He looked absolutely amazing. You were completely captivated by his unparalleled handsomeness, gravitating towards him during the after party. He’d just starred in the movie Takers, you were invited to the premiere by him, and now you were ready to actually see him. He’d been out of reach all evening due to being in the spotlight, but now, finally, he was just mingling, as best he could. You made a beeline for your friend, and as soon as you reached him, Rachel ran up and snatched his arm.

“Y/N, you made it,” he said in a fond, inviting voice as he leaned forward to give you a half hug.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you responded with a grin.

“Oh, have you met Rachel?” he asked, gesturing from you to her.

“No, I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure,” you stated, eyeing his date. Pleasure was the opposite of what you felt when it came to Rachel. Since they’d been engaged two years, you tried your best to stay away from her.

“Y/N, this is Rachel, Rachel this is Y/N,” he introduced and you shook each other’s hands.

“So you’re the one I always hear about,” Rachel remarked, a gleam in her eye.

Uneasily, you responded, “I suppose so.”

“You know, I’ve read your work, starring my fiance. Must be really sad to have your first and really successful novel to be about a man you’re no longer with. Does it hurt?” she asked. Her tone made it seem like she was being friendly, honestly curious, but you recognized that look on that girl’s face. She was jealous of you, and you had no idea why. She was the one with the ring on her finger, you were the one with a broken heart.

“Uh, if you’ll excuse me,” you said before rushing to the bathroom to stop the flow of tears.

Both you and Seb were too exhausted to talk, so you went straight to bed and fell asleep together.

The following morning you made sure to apologize as soon as he woke up. You’d woken up around dawn and made coffee, working around the millions of rose petals in the house. As soon as you were done, you went back to your bedroom, cup in hands, and he was waking up.

“Good morning,” you softly greeted as you sat next to his lying form. “Sebastian, I’m really sorry. I know you went through a lot of effort last night, and I really appreciate it. It means a lot to me that you’re trying to make sure we spend valuable time together. I don’t want you to think I didn’t want or appreciate that,” you informed as he started to properly wake up, rubbing his eyes, and pulling his shirtless self into a relaxed position against the headboard.

He nodded slightly, his eyes cast down to his lap, listening to you.

“I was just upset because I do miss Hayden. He’s a really old friend and after the holidays, he’ll probably only be in town for two more weeks and if this thing with King kicks off soon, I won’t have time to see him. I wasn’t mad at you or blaming you or upset with anything you did, it was my fault. I just...I was getting upset that the window to see him became shorter and shorter. That’s all.”

Sebastian nodded again, but he was still quiet for about a minute.

“I just wanted last night to be special, is all. And when it seemed like you were more irritated with the evening than anything...well it hurt. It also didn’t make sense to me because you’ve been telling me you wanted more time together, more date nights, more romantic stuff...Then I did that and you weren’t into it. I didn’t know if I did it wrong or...what…”

You reached forward and put your hand on his. “No, not at all. You were perfect, I was in the wrong. I just got mad when you got mad about me being upset. While, yes, it was a perfectly romantic evening, it didn’t mean I didn’t feel a little sad about missing Hayden. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” he replied, his eyes coming up to pierce yours. “I love you,” he offered in a gentle voice.

“I love you too,” you breathed, relaxing a bit. “I brought you some coffee, a peace offering,” you said, eyeing the steaming cup.

“Thanks,” he said. His hands traveled to your shoulders and he pushed you back on the bed slowly. “But I think it can wait,” he whispered in your ear before kissing your neck.

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

After an unexpected and eventful morning with Sebastian, you got ready for your day.

“I...uh...was going to go check on him, if that’s okay,” you tentatively stated. “I don’t know why he got blitzed and I’d like to know--”

“Babe, go. It’s fine. Go see your friend. I’m sure you’re worried and I’m sure he needs you,” he assured as he grabbed his gym bag.

“Are you sure? I won’t go if you don’t want me to,” you promised. You meant it. You weren’t going to do anything with Hayden any more if it meant upsetting Sebastian. It wasn’t worth it and you knew the more you were around him, the worse your feelings would become.

He walked over, put his hands on your shoulders, and looked you straight in the eye. “I don’t mind. I love you. I trust you. Go be with your friend.”

Sighing a breath of relief, you thanked him, kissed him, and left to go see Hayden. It was nearly noon so you decided to grab some takeout on the way, assuming he probably hadn’t eaten yet. You got to the door and knocked, hoping he was awake by now.

After a second, the door opened, exposing a person you never thought you’d see.

“Oh, I should’ve known you were nearby with this fiasco,” Rachel sneered as she eyed you up and down.

“Nice to see you too, Rachel,” you greeted in an even tone.

“What do you want?” she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I came to see him,” you informed.

“Don’t you have your own boyfriend to go home to? You have to crawl your way towards him too?”

“Rachel, you left him, remember? Don’t like me around Hayden? Take it up with him,” you insisted in a calm, firm tone.

“I don’t like you around our daughter, that’s for sure,” she stated.

“For your information, Briar loved trick or treating with me,” you said, getting defensive.

“Pretty sure it was just being around her dad that excited her,” she remarked with a scowl.

“Wouldn’t have to be that excited if you let him see her more often.”

“Well that’s why I’m here. I was going to see if he wanted to take Briar for the day,” she informed. “But seeing as he’s hungover from hell, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Rachel,” you started, a pleading tone in your voice, “don’t do that to him. He loves her, hungover or not. Please, leave her here.”

“Are you going to be here?” she asked.

“No, I came by to see you,” you sarcastically said.

“Then no. I’m not leaving her here.”

“Are you fucking serious?” you spat in a hushed whisper. “You’re going to deny him from seeing his daughter because I’m here?”

“I don’t want her around you.”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

“Okay, is he still hungover?” you asked evenly.

“Yeah, why?”

“Just...Take Briar for a few hours. I’ll get him fixed up and leave and then you bring her back here.”

“I don’t take orders from you,” she remarked, offended.

“Look, Hayden loves her and he misses her. I care about Hayden, which means I care about his happiness. And Briar makes him happy. If you take this away from him, I will do everything in my power to get her here. Your petty, insecure revenge shit can be put on hold. So I suggest you do as I say, or shit won’t be pretty.”

Her eyes went to the floor for a second then back up. “Fine. I’ll be back at three. Be out of here by then or she’s not staying.”

“Thank you,” you said.

She eyed you balefully before turning around. “Briar, baby, come on. You and Mommy are gonna run some errands while Daddy tries to feel better.” She went back and picked up Briar and put her on her hip, Hayden nearly refusing to let go. He finally let his hands slide off his daughter’s little form, a sadness forming in his eyes and face.

She started to leave before you caught her just as she was stepping out the door.

“Rachel?”

“Yeah?”

“Why...why don’t you like me? I mean, you’ve hated me from the moment we met,” you wondered in a quiet voice, hoping Hay wouldn’t hear you.

For a moment, she was lost in thought, it seemed debating on what to say to you. “Why don’t you ask Hayden? I’m sure he can fill you in,” she softly said, thrusting her chin towards him. At that, she walked away and you closed the door, stepping in with food.

“Hey, sunshine,” you greeted, trying to mask the inevitable confusion on your face. You came in and placed the food on the table. “I got the works. Anything you might want,” you informed.

“Thank you. I’m starving.”

“Probably because you didn’t eat last night,” you remarked.

“And how do you know that?”

You shrugged. “You were drinking all night, doubt you had time for a meal or wanted one…”

A silence grew between you two as you finished pulling out all the to-go boxes. You stopped your work and went over and sat across from him on the opposite bed.

“Hey, you wanna tell me why you decided to get that shitfaced?” you gently asked.

Hayden turned to you, his eyebrows going up. “Not exactly.”

“Look, Hay, you aren’t an alcoholic or anything. I’m not judging you. I just want to know what...triggered you to want to drink, that’s all. We’re friends right? I want to help.”

He nodded his head side to side and sighed, playing with his hands.

“Rachel informed me last night that...she doesn’t want me to spend Thanksgiving with Briar Rose. She’s taking her to her family’s house for the holidays and doesn’t want me there because it could be awkward.”

Your eyes and gut fell. That had to be like a bomb dropping on someone. Being told you can’t see your daughter on a holiday that’s meant to be for families.

“Oh...I’m so sorry,” you offered.

“It’ll be the first holiday I’ve ever spent away from her,” he informed quietly and evenly.

“That’s why you drank? Missing her?” you affirmed as you leaned down to try and see his face.

He lifted his head up and looked around the room, everywhere but you. “I started to drink because last I realized I’ve pushed everyone away in my life and I didn’t mean to. I pushed Rachel away because of my inability to compromise, to just swallow my anxiety shit a few nights and go out with her, like she deserved. I lost Briar Rose because I didn’t want to deal with meeting new parents. I lost a lot of friends from the entertainment business because I cut off ties to a lot of them and I shouldn’t have. I just wanted to be left alone I guess. I wanted Rachel and me to run away from all the bullshit that’s in Hollywood, and just go to the country. Just, be, and exist together, to be happy. Just to be away from everything. But I guess taking them away from everything also took them away from me. I think I was so blinded by my own happiness I forgot to see if they were.”

You leaned forward and put your hand on his knee. “Hey, that’s not your fault. You did the best you could. You and Rachel are just two different people.”

He nodded. “You’re right. And it’s over...I realized it last night. We’d been trying to hold onto this for so long...And last night it just hit me, after that call...We really are over with, for good. We’re breaking up…”

You gave his knee a squeeze. “I’m sorry, sweetie,” you offered.

“Not your fault. But I’m glad you’re here. Thank you for getting me home last night. I sort of remember being fed coffee and something else. Was Sebastian here?” he asked as if he was losing his mind.

You laughed. “Yeah, he was here. You actually called in the middle of a fight. I said I was going to get you and he said he wanted to help.”

A small look of shock crossed his face before slowly nodding. “Wow. Well...Tell him I said thanks. I don’t remember if I gave you a hard time or not.”

“Nah, you were rather easy to corral,” you informed with a smile. “Speaking of people who don’t like each other...I’ve never asked you why Rachel hates me. I just tried to ask her and she told me to ask you...So...Why does Rachel hate me?” you asked, your tone heavy.

Hayden let out a small, sharp laugh. “Uh, wow. She said to ask me? Well...Uh...Okay. Back when we got engaged, things were still sort of rocky. I was still getting over you and I may have...brought you up a few times.”

“How so?” you inquired.

“Well, i may have inadvertently compared you two. I didn’t mean to, it would just happen. You and i had been together five years, and her and I only one. So she would make coffee and I’d mention that you’d make yours a certain way. If i read a script, I'd tell her how you used to help me prepare my lines. Then, when we met at the Takers premiere, I don’t know, it pissed her off. She was upset that I invited you and accused me of not being over you.”

In a whisper, you asked, “Were you?”

“No,” he responded immediately.

You frowned. “So then what happened?”

“We broke up. She didn’t believe me that I was over you. But I couldn’t just let it go. I went after her, and three months later, we were back together. I lied to her. I told her I was over you. I thought if I could pretend, if I could force myself, if I could try to move on, I’d get over you.”

“Did it work?” you wondered.

“No,” he said again, a breathy laugh coming from him. “I’ve never gotten over you. You were another one I pushed away and...I never should have.”

His eyes were on yours, that same static crackling between you two right before you betrayed Sebastian.

“I never really got over you, either,” you confessed in a whisper.

You stared at each other a long time, not sure what to say, what to do…You weren’t going to betray your boyfriend again. If you wanted Hayden, you needed to make it clear to Sebastian that’s who you wanted before you crossed that line again.

After what seemed like ages, Hayden finally spoke. “So what do we do now?”

You shook your head. “I have no idea. I...I don’t think we do anything,” you informed.

“So...we just...go on like this? Never knowing if this could work?” he wondered. “Pretend that we don’t feel the way we do when we hang out? Pretend that I don’t still want to touch you...and kiss you...and feel you? Pretend it’s not your face I want to see when I wake up?”

His words sent a wave of heat, yearn, and guilt through you. Yes, you’d thought of those things. Yes, he still haunted your dreams too.

“That’s our only option…”

“No, it’s not,” he countered. “You could leave Sebastian. You could come with me, back to Canada. You’re more independent now. You can move with me there and write there. We can figure this whole thing out. We can have another shot.”

“Hayden…” you started. You knew there was no way you could leave Seb, even if you wanted to. Even if you were still in love with Hayden, you loved Sebastian too.

“You don’t have to decide now. But...at least think about it...What do you say?”

#old flame new problems #Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan fic #sebastian stan x reader #hayden christensen #hayden christensen fic #hayden christensen x reader

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zukoscomet · 7 years

Text

The Thirty-Something Years of Half-Jobs

Find it here on AO3. Modernverse established Bellarke fic. Intended one shot. For now ;)

“Clarke, have we become that couple?”

“What couple? You’re going to have to be a little more specific.”

“The couple that gets engaged but never actually gets married.”

Clarke and Bellamy had had a normal little love affair, nothing to sing ballads or write books about. They’d met at high school. Clarke had always considered herself the smartest person in any class. That was until the Blakes came to town. Bellamy became her first deskmate since Wells had died the previous year.

In a typical love story, here’s the part with immediate connection and heart eyes.

Instead, there begun the infamous Griffin-Blake rivalry.

If Clarke got 38 out of 40 on a pop quiz, Bellamy would get 39. Clarke would deliberately trigger fiercely-whispered arguments with him, only for Bellamy to diffuse it with a slick quote he had up his sleeve. Clarke Griffin had met her match, the whole school would snigger when they walked past to their desks.

Clarke found the teasing merciless, especially when she did indeed find arch-frenemy somewhat attractive.

She thought she would be leaving Bellamy Blake behind when she got her acceptance letter to Harvard Med School. Only to find out the next day that Bellamy had received one to the Law School, too.

Two degrees, two graduations, a shared apartment, many semi-romantic dinner dates, and seven extra years later, Clarke found herself engaged to be a Blake herself with Bellamy next to her in bed, rather than at a desk.

Not that the rivalry had ever completely ended.

Clarke sat up against the headboard. Her clock said 07:53. “You want to get married?”

“I’m not in any rush,” His voice was muffled by the pillow he had pressed to his face. “I’m just saying. We’ve been together for eleven years now, engaged for six of those, and we’ve never even looked at a date.”

“Yeah well, we’ve never been exactly fast to do anything romantic, have we? Took you all of first year to ask me out.”

“Don’t bring up my awkward nineteen-year-old romantic ineptitudes. I had no father figure to teach me any moves for the ladies until your mom started dating Kane. Worry not, I’m smooth as cream cheese on a bagel now.”

Clarke couldn’t help but laugh. “You wish. I just came to find your nerdiness attractive by overexposure. You wore me down over the years, I think.”

Bellamy huffed, rolling from his stomach onto his back. “I think you’d make me a beautiful bride.”

He was distracted, groaning as he stretched his limbs and flipped his hair from his eyes but Clarke’s stomach fluttered still. It always did when he said anything even remotely intimate. In this aspect, Clarke was more a taker than a giver.

“You’d be an okay groom,” she winked, watching him push the covers away as he swung his legs out of bed.

“Thanks, babe. I’m flattered.”

Bellamy had grown even more appealing in his thirties. He was broader, more muscular. He didn’t gel his hair anymore, rather letting it grow out thicker, like the stubble on his face. More freckles had come in across his shoulders and at the top of his spine. He’d been working on his ass, too, if Clarke was anyone to judge by feeling.

Clarke yawned as she picked up her glass. “You’re the lawyer. Apply for a marriage license. We’ll go to the city clerk’s office. Get the license. Wait the twenty-four hours, then do the ceremony.”

Bellamy paused in clinching his belt. “You want to get married this week?”

“Well, why not?”

“Where are we going to get a priest for a wedding ceremony in a day?”

“This is New York, remember.”

“Right,” Bellamy snorted. “But what about everything else? Where are we going to do this? Who are we going to invite? Who’s actually going to make it? There’s tons of things to consider, Clarke. Weddings take years to plan. Look how hard we worked on Octavia and Lincoln’s gig. We have no rings, no dresses for you or any bridesmaids. What about the catering the cake, music, flowers, all that shit? A honeymoon-”

“We’ll just go to the cabin for a week or so. No big deal. We don’t need to have a big ceremony or anything. We’re just making what we’ve already got official, right?” Clarke shrugged, taking a sip of water.

When she turned to look at him, Clarke had never seen such a solemn look on her partner’s face. There was a look in his eyes that she didn’t quite like. Pity, maybe.

“It is a big deal, Clarke. I want it to be,” He knelt before and reached for her hands, entwining them in her lap. “I want you to have your big white wedding, with everyone we love there.”

“Bellamy, our whole life up till this point has been half-jobs. The whole wedding idea is just one of many, ” she squeezed his hand tightly. “Buying a house. Getting another pet. Going on holiday. Changing jobs. God, how many times have we seriously talked about having a baby, but never actually got me off the pill?

Something in Bellamy’s eyes flickered. He wanted that. Badly.

“For once, let’s see something through and get married. I don’t care whether it’s just you and me, or my whole fucking Facebook friends list and extended family. I just want to marry you, Bellamy.”

“I want to marry you, too.”

Clarke smirked, sticking her ring finger up at him. “Obviously.”

The next thing she knew, Bellamy was kissing her. His hands were on her shoulders, pushing her back down on the bed beneath him. His skin was so hot against hers, burning like a fire. Clarke pushed his unbuttoned shirt from his shoulders, as Bellamy did the rest for her.

Bellamy Blake, the ever-constant enabler of sexual encounters.

Octavia was going to have to settle in at the airport because her ride was sure as hell going to be late.

#bellarke #bellarke fanfiction #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #bellamy x clarke #engagement fic #wedding fic #the 100 #the 100 fanfiction #modern au #bellarke modern au

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ruffoverthinksthings · 7 years

Text

The Xiongnu and You: A Headcanon Guide to Mulan’s “Huns” in the Descendants Verse

What do you think happened to the Huns after they were sent to the Isle? Personally, I think that Auradon sent most of the Xiongnu (Shan Yu's people) to the isle to avoid future problems.

In my opinion, I think Mulan would have been a better movie if we had mention on why the Huns attacked China. I think it would have shown more than the ‘Good’ vs. ‘Evil’ mentality. I mean, wars happen for a reason, either a legitimate or stupid reason, but a reason regardless.

Like what if the war was because Shan Yu wanted to expand his empire for goods and the economy.

For my fic that I’m writing, I’ve been doing research on Shan Yu’s people, the Xiongnu and the Chinese relations and it’s a lot more complicated than ‘Oh, he’s attacking because he’s evil.’

Wouldn’t been interesting if Shan Yu was a little more complex? Like yeah, he invaded a country and burned down a town, but who's to say that the Chinese army didn’t burn down a Xiongnu village. We only see from Mulan’s POV, so we didn’t see everything at happened during the war throughout all of China.

War is complex and tricky and when written down, it is in the POV of the winners.

My oc, who’s the daughter of Shan Yu is not evil, although she is not the friendliest of people, she takes pride in her people and heritage. I can see her being pissed off in history class at Auradon Prep when they are going through Chinese history and they are portraying her people as barbarians. She states that it’s more complex than that.

@mazuru7

Yes, Auradon did in fact send some or most of the Xiongnu people (or “Huns,” as Mulan misnames them) because of the War with China, and their history before that. Little bit of background context, a mix of historical accounts and my own headcanons because Mulan is an anachronistic mess as is:

The war depicted in the movie happens after the Warring States Period, where the six states of Han, Zhao, Yan, Wei, Chu, and Qi, were conquered and unified by the seventh Qin state, and became the first unified “China.” In my research, there was mention of them expanding into the territories occupied by nomadic people like the Xiongnu, and even the Xiongnu being conquered and enslaved by the various Chinese states during, and before this period.

During the Han Dynasty, the period where the “Great Wall” was built, they have been mentioned to have repeatedly attacked and invaded China, the progress of their societies relying entirely China’s because they constantly sought and demanded “tribute” from them, had marriages between the Xiongnu and China (that didn’t last long or were successful, politically speaking, and weren’t popular decisions--“humiliating” is a word used), and some Chinese leaders that hired Xiongnu generals, only to have them turn against their masters and start their own independent states.

Whether this is necessity after having lost their lands and being forced to rely on China for their daily needs, or the same greed and lust for power that leads other states to go on military conquest and dominate others, is up to you.

What I can say definitively, though, is that yes, the War and Shan Yu’s behaviour was much more than just “Oh, he’s evil.” In Mulan, China is painted as this noble, civilized society that is fighting a war of self-defense, but History is Written by the Winners indeed, and it’s not like many pinnacles of society and progress didn’t bloody their hands and have some ugly, ugly pasts indeed.

Examples and the rest of this long piece below.

Rome was a big fan of the coliseum and going to war to expand their territory, and much of their infrastructure ran on slavery,

Western Europe, which most of Auradon belongs to, invaded, robbed, and conquered numerous countries and indigenous peoples for their own selfish needs, and

America had many sordid business in becoming the “Shining City on the Hill,” like the extermination of Native American tribes, African-American Slavery, and of course, their less than glorious wars, such as the Iraq war.

That the Chinese may have also burned a Xiongnu village is just one “evil” action among many: as mentioned above, the Chinese were the ones that invaded, conquered, and enslaved the nomadic Xiongnu people, and I don’t doubt that what accounts we do have were heavily biased.

Who’s to say that all of the behaviours we’ve seen from them—the raids, the faltering marriages, the betrayal of their Chinese masters—wasn’t done from desperation, necessity, and a desire to turn away from the tyrants that had “corralled them like farm animals,” as I assume Shan Yu might say?

There was also the possibility that before China fused with Auradon, emboldened by their victory against the Huns and the marriage alliance in Mulan’s sequel, they were already well on their way to pushing back against the Xiongnu, exterminating or scattering them to the point where historians don’t even bother to mention them anymore.

Maybe all of the Xiongnu were thrown onto the Isle, maybe some of them were spared, but I can guarantee you that the ones that did end up there alongside Shan Yu are very bitter about their situation, to say the least.

They harbour an inherent distrust and disgust towards Auradon and especially that of China, seeing them as tyrants masquerading as “the Good Guys,” and would rather die before they subscribe to Maleficent’s rule. I imagine that they actually separated from the Isle society at large, ruling either a mountainous, hostile region of the wilds, or being a third party vying for territory and control over the Badlands alongside Queen La and Scar.

Like with China, I’d imagine they frequently get into military and violent conflict with the “inland” Islanders, fighting with them for scraps and disrupting Maleficent’s operations to secure necessary supplies and luxuries, much like the “tributes” from China from before, only much more desperate.

In line with this, the Xiongnu VKs aren’t really part of the culture, seen as outsiders, troublemakers, and enemies that you should never consider working with—if Shan Yu’s Descendant is portrayed as also going to Dragon Hall rather than coming over to raise hell every once in a while, I’m assuming it’s a “know your enemy” sort of deal rather than them “willingly being indoctrinated by your petty immortal empress.”

Both the adults and the kids culture likely relies on these key tenements.

Unbreakable In-Group Loyalty, “the Horde above all else,” with them refusing to be abusive or cruel to each other unless someone truly gets out of line

Militaristic Society, based on a strict hierarchy that decides who controls how many soldiers, who organizes the raids, and who gets to parcel out the spoils of war and who gets to enjoy the “tributes” they extract from Maleficent or the other residents

Shan Yu and his descendants being at the top of this hierarchy, by virtue of infamy and “still having it” when it comes to fending off challengers

“Taker” Mentality, in that they don’t even bother to set up any form of agriculture or permanent living like their ancestors, living true to their nomadic past by shuffling around the Isle and raiding what they need from Maleficent

Strong Emphasis On Military Training And Martial Prowess, though instead of horseback archery, it’s now guerilla tactics, using stealth, shock, and the element of surprise to catch their enemies unaware, or pilfer all of the enemies goods without them ever noticing you’re there

Deity-like Worship To Horses And The “Great Lands Of Old,” a myth they propagate about a bountiful land of pastures where they were free to ride and live, until the “Conquerors” (the Chinese) came, greedily took everything from themselves, forced the Xiongnu to attack them out of desperation, and had the gall to call them the cruel, heartless barbarians and separate them from their ancestral lands forever, trapping them in a hellhole where they would be trapped behind a barrier, forever forced to longingly look at it, but never able to return

Please note that the above is just the Xiongnu belief, and could be actual history from the perspective of the “losing” side, propaganda, or a mix of both, as serves their needs to spur and combine their people towards one common enemy.

Should you, or anyone else wish to play a VK that is either Shan Yu’s descendant (male, female, or non-binary, it doesn’t matter as they’re still of Shan Yu’s blood and sexist ideals falter in the face of need and the lack of infrastructure to support it), or a member of their “Horde,” here’s some behaviours, scenarios, and beliefs you may find useful and a springboard for your ideas:

Anti-Establishment Beliefs, thinking the current state of Auradon like one “giant, gold-plated and gem-encrusted toilet your ‘glorious leader’ sits on like it’s actually a throne,” being disgusted with the laws, rules of civility, and systemic means of oppressing the people and “keeping them in place,” along with a strong desire to rebel, establish their own “free” society, possibly coordinating with the Sidekick League and other outcasts like the Merry Men and Maidens

Strong Anti-Consumer Culture Bent, mostly because I headcanon China as a giant producer and consumer of goods, and they see that the rampant “buy, buy, buy” for more convenience, comfort, and speed has made the Auradonian people “fat, useless, and lazy”

Frequent Run-Ins With the Royal Guard, for raising trouble, stealing without remorse, or intentionally provoking them into combat to test their skills. Because the Guard has spent 20 years without any real fights or combat, and the veterans of actual war are retired or in desk jobs for ageing, the Guard fails, and fails BADLY in the face of the Xiongnu VKs—oftentimes, it takes one hit to down them and they’re disgusted that they don’t even try to get back up

Tourney and Other Sports Emphasis, their way of legally engaging with “war” with the AKs without getting into trouble, treating the trophies like conquests, and abusing the system to gain privilege, legitimacy, and numbers with their new “horde.” I wouldn’t be surprised if they make up a new Xiongnu people united by love of sports, and get in bloody conflict with the Tourney fans from Greece, Sparta especially.

Love Of Horses And The Outdoors, being the ones able to tame and ride the “can’t tame ‘em, can’t ride ‘em” steeds in the stables of Auradon, fond of exploring the forests of Sherwood, the hills of Dunbroch, and the mountains of Arendelle, and generally finding careers as either environmental preservationists, forest rangers, shepherds, or a new breed of highwaymen and raiders making hell for Auradon at large

Alienation And Constant Conflict With The Regular VKs, such as the Rotten Four, the Second Wavers (Freddie, CJ, Zevon, Uma, Gil, Harry, and the rest of the Pirate Crew), and any Third-Onwards Wavers you can think of. These kids were not friends nor even frenemies on the Isle, have probably gotten into some very unfriendly disagreements, and still see each other as competition, what stands between them and getting to eat today or starve, bruised and battered physically and emotionally.

If you have more questions, or you feel this was unsatisfactory, please feel free to ask.

#the xiongnu and you #Descendants #Disney #headcanon

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