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beautifulterriblequeen · 4 years

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Trust No One: Aaravos as Plague

This is a messy and convoluted and branching set of headcanons and theories so I’m going to keep it to bullet points as much as possible. But if you ever want to know more about something on here, just ask! My thanks to @kotikala for brainstorming with me for a few hours one night last week (and for making the gif below). It was a whole ride, and we had crazy amounts of fun.

It all started when I got to looking, yet again, at these two pix:

1000 years ago, the Sunfire and Moonshadow rulers held their own staffs

but 300 years ago, they had diversified into warrior and wizard

in the first pic, Aaravos’s eyes are glowing

in the second, the two staffbearer elves’ eyes are glowing

glowing eyes means using big magic

Aaravos’s eyes glowed when he was controlling Viren

so what’s he up to in the pic? Controlling someone else?

is that even Aaravos or do we just see his spooky astral form while he’s actually possessing some other poor elf there, like he did with the Sunfire mage at the Sunforge?

Theory: Aaravos hacks people with his magic. He’s is a hacker, and he can spread his influence from person to person this way, like a plague.

It’s what he did with the elves after Xadia was split.

It’s what he’s doing with Viren.

He’s going to keep using the same tricks.

It’s what Viren was trying to copy with a dark magic workaround.

And it’s what Aaravos is doing to others in the show already.

It’s what he did with the elves after Xadia was split

The most terrifying thing about Aaravos isn’t his powers. It’s that you never know who Aaravos is, so you don’t even know when his powers are being used. Who can you trust, when more than one person around you might be Aaravos, or Aaravos-manipulated?

Basically: TRUST NO ONE (ghhhh I love shows like this so much)

Aaravos sent a caterpillar to Viren because a worm is a type of virus

Dark Callum was an attempt to hack Callum’s mind while he was sick, and he was only saved because of Harrow’s influence on him

the plan to split Xadia interfered with Aaravos’s own plans, so he set about foiling the elves by hacking them and puppeting and/or impersonating them, and then making important decisions of state in disguise, by manipulation, and by creating an environment of isolation and mistrust

at some point, the elves finally realized what Aaravos was doing and had to band together to stop him

enter the Sunfires and the Moonshadows, defenders of the border and the peace, such as it was

the book pages involving Aaravos all show Sun, Moon, and Stars on them, but no other identifiable primal symbols

so what did they discover? Aaravos can turn into other people, using their primal magic, in perfect copies of them. The elves had no way to tell which among them were the OG elves and which were Aaravos

It’s what he’s doing with Viren

the pod that’s growing at the end of S3/in TTM has a black-eyed Viren inside it--eyes black like Aaravos. Yet the Viren we saw Claudia resurrect has normal skin. Maybe Aaravos stole Viren’s magic--and his gray skin with it--and plans to impersonate him, while Claudia resurrected Viren’s corpse using enough vitality to restore him to his original appearance after Aaravos pulled his magic out. Each of them only intended for there to be one Viren, but now there are two, because Claudia took a shortcut

the pod is the final step in copying a person, but it starts with the blood ritual, and the caterpillar needs primal magic to grow (see: Viren getting irradiated by the Sun staff and spitting out a much larger caterpillar than he swallowed)

that means it would be a lot easier to grow elves than humans, because they already have primal magic in them, and they’re in Xadia which is also full of primal magic. Aaravos had to lure Viren to Xadia to get the caterpillar to grow

not knowing who to trust among the ruling elven leaders changed things up

the elves split their rule, from having a single ruler who also wielded the primal stone staff to having two. 700 years after Xadia was divided, the Moonshadows are led by a mage and an assassin, and the Sunfires have a queen and a mage. That way, if one of them gets podded or possessed by Aaravos, they can’t make unilateral decisions and use their power or magic to create chaos

but not everyone Aaravos manipulates has to be a ruler. If he can whisper in a baker’s ear, or a servant’s, or a certain soldier at just the right time, that person can do the influencing on rulership for him. There are always myriad targets for Aaravos to choose from. How can the elves possibly protect their people?

cue the Sunfires and Moonshadows again, as basically the Order of the Phoenix--oh hey, Phoe-Phoe!

we saw what Queen Khessa did with the Sunforge, using it to attempt Viren’s murder. She’s probably killed other humans this way over the years. We see the device as cruel and the practice as racist.

but once upon a time (and this is what gives this theory some actual weight for me) the Sunforge could have been a tool of detection in a world of lies and deceit

the Sun arcanum is about revealing truth, just like Viren’s true face was revealed

300+ years ago, Queen Aditi used the Sunforge to test her fellow elves for truth or Aaravos-level deception. Any false pod elven pretenders who were placed in its scorching beam would be destroyed, while true elves who had not touched dark magic would not be harmed

the Sunforge was one of the only ways the elves could truly trust each other: they all had to submit to the bodyscan, just like in Among Us.

maybe the Moonshadow elves had to turn a bit KGB in this part of the story, using their stealth to sneak in and drag people out of bed in the night to take them to the Sunforge by dawn so they could be tested by Aditi

possibly Moonshadows were sent on pod hunts back in the day, to take out creepy pod people who weren’t finished growing--or who had become nothing but batteries for Aaravos’s schemes--a dark mercy either way, but very Moonshadow

but if the Sunforge was a detection device, the Wonderwall was a prevention device. A firewall, run on Moon power

Nyx said that the Wonderwall keeps out soulfangs and husks. Each of those is an unnatural creation: either too much soul or too little. Either way, the Wonderwall seems to let living things pass only if they have one soul and one body (that match, if it can detect that)

Aaravos couldn’t step in there inside another elf without getting burnt out of them

the oasis isn’t just a safe haven from the desert, it’s a safe haven from uncertainty and mistrust, the one place Moonshadows know they can trust someone to be who they seem, possibly used as a meeting spot to plan Aaravos’s capture, and maybe even execute it

Aaravos had to take Aditi out somehow - she ran the Sunforge and it was ruining his plans. The way he destroyed Khessa looked like he was burning her Sun magic out of her, and that’s super karmic not only because she was trying to kill Viren that way, but if that’s how Aditi ran the Sunforge the last time he knew her

He’s going to keep using the same tricks

the first place that Aaravos took Viren in Xadia was back to the Sunforge, to disable it. Now the Viren body he’s growing in his pod cannot be detected in the usual way, and he can go about doing whatever he wants. Except that Claudia totally resurrected OG Viren, so... Claudia actually becoming a problem for Aaravos? Hmm.

The next step should be the oasis then, since it’s specifically meant to keep out Aaravos’s puppets (a term used in the art book, and possibly meant literally as well as figuratively). He should be looking for a way to bring it down, which means more Moonshadows and Nyx

since we haven’t seen pod Viren hatch yet, I’m not sure whether Aaravos needs the original alive as a tether for his copy, or if he discards them like he did the Sun mage. Maybe he did want Claudia to resurrect Viren after all because he needs his life force to power pod VIren. Or maybe he was genuinely done with Viren because he had all the power he needed (ahaha Viren quote) to grow his own Viren, and it can live on its own now

It’s what Viren was trying to copy with a dark magic workaround

remember when the creators said in an interview about Harrow that yes, he’s dead, but that we would see him again?

maybe Viren was trying his darnedest to make that happen in S1

yes I’m back on my Dadbird bullshit okay, it’s a really fun theory, bless whoever came up with that one

here’s the new hot take: Viren did swap Pip and Harrow’s souls via the soulfang, and once he had Runaan imprisoned, he did indeed plan for the elf to “walk out of here” once he cooperated...as Harrow

in the novelization of S1, Viren used a black candle to aid in transferring Runaan into the coin, whereas the red candles are used for making smoky creatures come to life

in the show, there was a black candle in the dungeon cell on the table

That bowl of ash could be Harrow’s ashes, his DNA basically, Viren never throws anything away, too pragmatic

the second that Runaan gave up the goods on the mirror’s secrets, Viren would’ve “repaid his wise counsel” in a different way than he did for Lain and Tiadrin: by using Harrow’s ashes and the black soul-transfer candle to scoop Runaan’s soul out of his body, morph it into Harrow’s form using his DNA imprint from the ash, and then fetch Pip from the cage to put Harrow’s soul back in a body that looked exactly like his old one. Runaan’s body would’ve walked out of that cell, but it wouldn’t have looked like him anymore, and he wouldn’t have been inside it

looking at that mirror and knowing he was being watched by an elf who’d crawled inside other people and ridden them around Xadia must’ve been so freaking creepy, especially to a Moonshadow, no wonder Runaan got skeeved and called it worse than death--and he barely avoided the same fate himself, even if neither he nor Viren knew the connection

And this whole plan of hopping bodies and souls? It’s the dark magic version of what Aaravos does with his pod people, just like the coining spell is a dark magic version of how Aaravos is trapped

It’s what Aaravos is doing to others in the show already

once you realize that a character has the ability to flawlessly imitate other characters, all bets are off on who’s who

that goes for anyone else Aaravos might already be talking to in caterpillar form or possessing astrally, since he probably can’t make pods of people in Katolis due to a lack of primal magic

I started wondering if there was another poor person Aaravos was already puppeting in the background, and I found one: Saleer

in S2E1, Councilman Saleer advocates against retaliation in a council meeting and Viren isn’t pleased

what do you do with those who defy you to your face? You persuade them to join your side

in S3E1, Ezran’s banther just up and growls at Saleer, as if it can sense that something’s off about him, hmmm animal instincts

Saleer is the last to bend the knee to King Ezran

later in the same episode, Saleer reacts differently than everyone else to some surprising news, seeming to murmur about it toward his own right ear

at some point I think Wormavos bit Saleer, and he’s been puppeted by Aaravos ever since, just like the Sun mage was--except that Aaravos is keeping Saleer alive because he’s not done with him yet. This is extra scary because it means Aaravos could be controlling Viren, Saleer, and the Sun mage all at the same time, or be able to switch at will amongst them, a la Horde Prime or Ultron

Saleer orchestrates Viren’s release from the moment he hears that Rayla and Callum are taking the egg back to the Dragon Queen, but our eyes are usually on Viren so we don’t really notice that he initiates everything including working the crowd

basically every time other people are shocked, Saleer isn’t

when Viren does the Hearts of Cinder spell, Saleer moves to stand on his right to avoid getting bespelled

then back to back shots show that Aaravos replaces Saleer on Viren’s right. Even though Aaravos has 4 inches on Viren in height, he’s shown shorter than Viren

since the HoC spell takes place after the Sun mage’s possession and death, it seems Aaravos’s sudden appearance is a direct hint that Aaravos is currently possessing Saleer’s body like he did the Sun mage, and by inference has been for some time, what with all the calm collectedness and the smirking he’s been doing most of the season

Saleer survives the final battle unscathed and is arrested without anyone knowing of his connection to Aaravos or his extra connection to Viren. This raises the question: what will Saleer’s fate be in S4 and onward? Will he die mysteriously, abandoned now that he’s of no use? Will Aaravos keep using him to cause chaos in Katolis? Will anyone figure out that he is/was a puppet?

I sure hope Jonathan Holmes is having fun voicing his complicated messy evil guy with Jason Simpson! The boys deserve to have fun at work.

the fandom is contractually owed one (1) conversation between Barius and Runaan as balance now, I don’t make the rules

So, to sum up

Wormavos functions just like a worm virus, establishing itself in a host and then seeking out additional systems to infect via bite, and everyone that gets bitten becomes an at-will vessel for Aaravos to use, expanding his system exponentially

it’s impossible to tell who is under his control without extraordinarily powerful primal magic tests, which he’s disabling

he’s already spreading and no one knows he’s even there yet. Saleer might not be the only character Aaravos is operating, and we might not know who he gets a hold of in the future until it’s too late

in short, trust no one, and fix the Sunforge asap.

#tdp meta #tdp theory #aaravos is ultron #or maybe horde prime #aaravos #viren #saleer #tdp #tdp headcanons #through the moon spoilers #through the moon #book one: moon #runaan #harrow #primal magic #dark magic #hackervos #worm virus is literal #xadia

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cherienymphe · 4 years

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Can’t Be Bought (Ransom Drysdale x Reader)

{This is my very first dark fic, so let me know what you think. I have @sherrybaby14 and @darkficsyouneveraskedfor to thank for giving me the courage to finally join this side of tumblr.}

Part II

WARNINGS: NON-CON! {IF THIS OFFENDS YOU PLEASE DNI! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED}

Summary: You’ve gotten a job at the infamous Thrombey mansion with the help of your best friend Marta. It isn’t perfect, but it pays well. Your only true complaint takes the form of one Ransom Drysdale who seems to have had a problem with you from day one.

You forced a smile, collecting the empty champagne glasses as Walt and Morris laughed at the joke they’d made at your expense. Joni grimaced in response, shooting you an apologetic look as you turned away and decided to make yourself useful in the kitchen. You set the tray down with a sigh, forcing your shoulders down, reminding yourself that a job was a job, and you had been paid good money.

You didn’t wait on anyone. Not since your last job years ago that you had gotten during senior of high school in order to have a little pocket change. Since then, you had gone to college and had been studying your butt off for the past three years. Unfortunately, circumstances that you had still yet to fully comprehend, had forced you to look for a source of income, and that was how your best friend proposed the idea of working for Mr. Harlan Thrombey himself every once in a while.

The Thrombeys were known for their wealth, and when your best friend had first started working for the patriarch, you had been nervous…rightfully so. While Harlan was as sweet as could be, the rest of his tribe left much to be desired. They were the kind of privileged and bigoted beings that you prided yourself on steering clear of for most of your life. Even Joni, while meaning well, still had her moments where you wondered how a woman her age couldn’t grasp something so basic a 4th grader could understand. Meg was perhaps the only redeemable one of the bunch.

Nevertheless, you were taken on as a part time employee, helping out at whatever weekly shindig the family decided to host. It was tiring at best, but with the money you pocketed, there really wasn’t much room for complaint. Really…there was only one true problem with the job.

Marta, your best friend and nurse for the wealthy novelist himself, was in the home somewhere having to deal with unnecessary demands and racist jokes from her employers just as you were. Her main concern however was always Harlan, and you never envied that position more than you did now as you heard a newcomer enter the home, his arrival welcomed by a chorus of groans and protests.

You swallowed, shoulders tensing for just a moment before you forced the negative feelings down. As delightful as the family was, there was only one person who could warrant that kind of reception.

“(Y/N)…I was worried that you wouldn’t be here tonight. What a disappointment that would have been…”

You looked up, dark eyes connecting with those of the devil himself.

Ransom Drysdale.

Ransom was Harlan’s grandson, tall and muscular and dark-haired, the epitome of handsome some would say. Hell on earth, others might add.

“Hugh,” you greeted evenly.

He preferred “the help” call him Hugh.

“(Y/N),” he replied just as evenly with that familiar smirk ghosting along his pink lips.

He stepped through the doorway of the kitchen, and you looked away, continuing your task of filling up some more glasses. The drunker the family became, the rowdier they got, and keeping the alcohol flowing was always the best thing for you.

“All of the festivities are out there, you know.”

He was closer now, not close enough to touch you, but close enough to make you uncomfortable. Truthfully, Ransom had always made you uncomfortable. You weren’t exactly sure when it started. You’d always known of him, of his antics, his personality, and reputation. Before you had even met him, you didn’t like him. He was the embodiment of everything you both hated and feared, and that made you uncomfortable, but it was for reasons even Marta could understand.

However, the first time you’d stepped foot into the eerie mansion all those months ago, nervous yet eager to finally earn your keep, Ransom himself was the first member of the family that you had encountered. He had stepped into the foyer, in the process of saying something to the housekeeper Fran, something incredibly snarky and offensive, no doubt, when he’d stopped short. It seemed that he had taken a few seconds to even notice you standing beside her, quiet and wide-eyed as you glanced around.

You never did forget that look.

He had snapped his mouth shut, tilting his head to the side in the most threatening way as his blue eyes studied you. If at all possible, you would have sworn that his eyes had clouded over, growing darker as the corner of his lip pulled upwards into a crooked smile. You had unconsciously inched closer to Fran, forcing a straight face as you fought to not look away.

“…and who is this?”

It was such a simple question. Hell, after everyone else had arrived, they’d all asked the very same question too, but not like Ransom had. They had simply wanted to know who you were and your purpose, visibly excited at the prospect of more help around the house, but Ransom… Ransom seemed to be most interested in your name. He was interested in your secrets, your weaknesses, what lay beneath your shirt. Ransom was interested in power over you.

“I believe I’m talking to you,” Ransom continued when you didn’t respond to his remark, pulling you from your reverie.

There was a boisterous laugh just as the sound of something breaking reached your ears. You swallowed an exasperated sigh before glancing up at him, quickly looking away as you found his intense eyes on you as he leaned on the counter.

“I’m working, Hugh,” was all you said.

You found it best to keep your responses to the trust find baby short and sweet. He was always trying to engage you in conversation, and while you knew that giving him as little attention as possible only kept the remarks coming, you believed it was better than entertaining his nonsense. There was no telling what the handsome man could talk you into.

“Surely you can talk and work at the same time. They don’t teach you that at school?”

You simply glanced at him again before grabbing the tray and making your way around him. Your shoulder brushed along his chest as you exited the kitchen, the smell of his cologne threatening to cling to your hair and skin, as if trying to suffocate you just like Ransom was.

Your appearance was met with cheers and eager hands as you brought more expensive champagne to the guests. The empty glasses in their possessions were swapped for full ones, and you bent down in order to safely collect the dirty dishes onto your tray.

“(Y/N), we’ve made a bit of a mess over here…,” Linda said, gesturing to the floor beside the couch she was sitting on “…we’d hate for someone to get cut on all this glass. Morris just can’t seem to hold his liquor.”

You forced another smile.

“Of course, I’ll be right out to get that after I put these in the kitchen,” you sweetly replied.

“You’re a saint,” Joni added just as Morris began to protest his wife’s statement about him.

The kitchen was empty when you entered, and you sighed in relief. It took no time for you to swap the tray of glasses for a broom and dustpan as you made your way back to the lively room. You weaved through the drunk guests, approaching the pile of broken glass when you were not so gently pushed. With a shriek you fell to the floor, the glass shards crunching beneath your hands and knees.

“What the hell, Ransom,” you heard Meg scream.

It wasn’t long before everyone else was tearing into your apparent assailant. You threw yourself back onto your butt as you frowned at your bleeding hands and knees. You had opted for an appropriate skirt tonight, pairing it with what you thought was a thick pair of tights, but the ripped fabric and your bleeding knees begged to differ.

“It was an accident,” Ransom finally threw back at the angry mob, but something inside of you knew better than that.

You hissed as you flexed your hands, unsure how to push yourself onto your feet without getting blood on anything. You didn’t have time to dwell on that as an unfamiliar pair of hands gripped your shoulders from behind, helping you up.

“Are you alright?” Ransom asked, lips brushing against your ear as his broad chest pressed into your back.

You flinched away from him, and you could have sworn you heard a soft chuckle escape his lips just before Meg practically shoved him away from you.

“Step away, you’ve done enough,” she snapped.

“I know they’re filling your head with man hating propaganda down in those libtard college courses, but it truly was an accident,” Ransom replied, hands raised in an innocent manner.

“Like anyone believes that,” Joni sneered as Meg guided you towards the bathroom, throwing a glare over her shoulder at the blue-eyed bastard.

Your knees stung as you walked through the house, and you couldn’t hold in the groan as you sat on the toilet seat, the skin on your knees stretching out. Meg was focused as she looked under the sink cabinets for a first aid kit, and the huff she let out told you that she hadn’t found one. She briefly placed her hand on the top of your head.

“I’ll be right back,” she said before hurriedly exiting the bathroom.

The response to Ransom’s assault wasn’t surprising. They hated him, sure, but the family also doted on you, that much was true, and sometimes you wondered if they saw you as something akin to a pet. A token poor person they could use as a charity case to make themselves feel better. You shook your head. Marta and Meg were really close, probably the only one in the family that she genuinely liked outside of Harlan. Meg wasn’t like that.

You heard footsteps approaching the bathroom, and looked up with a small smile, only for it to fall at the sight of a tall figure stepping in the doorway. You swallowed as you gazed up at Ransom, his presence making you nervous.

“Where’s Meg?”

You eyed him before answering.

“She went to go find a first aid kit,” you responded, eyes accusatory.

If he noticed your venomous gaze, he didn’t comment on it, only nodding as he took in your bloody knees and hands.

“Are you alright?”

Your frown deepened, and he chuckled before leaning against the doorjamb with his arms crossed over his chest.

“I really didn’t mean to push you-.”

“I don’t believe you,” you harshly interrupted. “You aren’t a nice person, Hugh. I don’t think you ever have been. I don’t know if you just don’t like me or you feel slighted by me or maybe you just think I’m fun to mess with, but I feel like you’ve had it out for me from the very first moment I stepped into this house.”

You briefly looked away from him, taking a deep breath.

“I’m not leaving. If that’s what you’re aiming for you might as well give it up now, because I need the money, and truthfully speaking, you are the only person who’s truly a pain in my ass here. You’re not as scary as you’d like to think, so just save your energy,” you spat.

His jaw ticked as he stared you down, eyes narrowed, and you heard the sound of approaching footsteps. You leaned back, glowering up at him as he stepped away. He slunk away just as Meg approached, and she stared after him in confusion.

“Are you okay? What did he want?” she demanded, clutching the first aid kit to her chest.

“Just apologizing,” you mumbled the lie.

Meg pursed her lips, a frown on her face before shaking her head and kneeling down before you.

“First things first, let’s get these tights off…”

You sat on the couch, head leaning back as you closed your eyes. There really wasn’t much you could do after Meg had cleaned you up and wrapped bandages around the offending areas. Marta and Fran were more than happy to step in and take over as you sat the rest of the evening out. You mainly sat with Meg, refusing anytime someone tried to coerce you into having a drink.

It wasn’t long before everyone began to retire, some piling into their expensive cars and leaving while others chose to sleep the fancy drinks off, opting to save the drive home for in the morning. Ransom was one of the last to slither away, eyes hardly leaving you for the rest of the night.

Normally, you would have left ages ago, but Marta insisted on driving you home. Your hands were injured, yes, but you were sure you were more than capable of driving yourself home. However, Marta wouldn’t hear anything of it, and eventually wore you down. That was how you found yourself waiting for her to finish up with Harlan as midnight approached.

You fought back a yawn, body worn out from your busy day. You honestly could have been home a while ago, but you knew that Marta would worry, and you figured there was no harm in humoring her. You did your best not to get impatient and fidgety. After all, you knew that caring for Harlan was a whole other job, but the pain killers Meg gave you were starting to wear off, and your hands and knees were beginning to ache again.

You glanced up as footsteps approached the living room, sharply inhaling at the sight of none other than Ransom. You had been under the impression that he’d left ages ago.

“You’re still here?” he chuckled, pulling on his signature brown coat.

You cleared your throat before answering.

“I’m waiting on Marta.”

He scoffed, and you watched as he glanced over his shoulder at the stairs before shaking his head.

“Marta never knows what kind of night she’s in for with the old man. Sometimes she leaves about this time, and sometimes she’s not pulling out of here till almost 2 in the morning,” he responded, approaching you.

You frowned at that, glancing at the stairs.

“Come on. I’ll give you a ride home,” he offered.

You blanched, eyes widening as you looked at him.

“Don’t be ridiculous! My house is nowhere near where you live. You’d be going out of the way… I have no problem waiting for Marta,” you refused.

“(Y/N)-.”

“Really, it’s fine.”

He glanced at his watch before raising an eyebrow at you, that haughty smirk taking residence on his lips.

“It’s getting late. Don’t you have class tomorrow?”

You grimaced. He was right. Tomorrow was Monday. You shifted on the couch as he knelt down before you, one dark strand escaping and brushing along his forehead.

“I know you don’t believe me, but I really didn’t mean to bump into you. The least I can do is make sure you get home. I know your knees must be killing you,” he said.

You frowned, wincing as a sharp ache traveled through your left knee, as if to prove his point. You looked away with a sigh before reluctantly nodding. He was right. It was late and you were in pain. Ransom may have been the world’s biggest ass, but you weren’t that prideful to suffer instead of letting him take you home. With his help, you stood.

“Let me text Marta…,” you trailed off, realizing that that’d be kind of difficult with the bandages.

“Don’t worry, I got it,” he said, pulling his own phone out with one hand while he helped you out of the door with the other.

Getting to the car was a rather slow and painful process, but you sighed in relief when you finally sagged into the passenger seat of the fancy vehicle. You leaned your head back against the headrest as the car purred to life, relaxing as the vibrations traveled through your frame.

The car ride was silent, but not uncomfortable. You were on the verge of dozing off anyway, and maybe Ransom knew that and that’s why he didn’t talk to you. You hoped Marta didn’t worry too much, and mentally reminded yourself to text her when you got home. You weren’t exactly sure when you’d fallen asleep, nor for how long, but it couldn’t have been no more than 15, maybe 20 minutes.

When you peeled your eyes open, it didn’t feel like you’d been sleeping for a long time, and you could feel the car slowing down. You frowned in confusion, blinking the sleep out of your eyes as you sat up. You couldn’t have gotten to your house that quickly, and as you glanced out of the window, you confirmed that you were right. Ransom pulled the car off into the grass on a long stretch of road, and your confusion grew as he turned it off.

“What’s going on?” you whispered as you turned to look at him.

Was he low on gas? That’d be so on brand for him. Your confused thoughts were a jumbled mess as he pocketed his keys.

“Hugh, what’s going on? Do I need to call triple A or…?”

He chuckled, reaching over you to open his glove compartment.

“You’re always calling me ‘Hugh’. Hugh, Hugh,” he complained, attempting to mimic your voice.

You scoffed, a confused and humorless chuckle escaping as you watched him pull a bottle of brandy out, and you rolled your eyes.

“You’ve said on numerous occasions that you want ‘the help’ to call you Hugh, so…”

You watched as he leaned back in his seat, opening the bottle and taking a sip as he raised his eyebrows with a nod.

“You’re right,” he agreed, almost regrettably. “I just…I just don’t think it will sound right. You know?”

You huffed, irritation growing as you glanced around.

“What are you talking about? What’s going on-?”

“Do you want some?” he offered, interrupting you.

“No! I want to go home, and you shouldn’t be drinking,” you admonished.

He took another sip, shifting to get comfortable as he stared through the windshield. You swallowed, your nerves standing on end as you watched him. You were so confused.

“You’re so sweet, (Y/N)…so much sweeter than Marta or Fran,” he scoffed her name. “It’s why I was so shocked at your outburst, tonight.”

“…what?”

He turned to look at you, blue eyes almost glowing in the darkness. They were so expressive and focused entirely on your frozen frame.

“Even more so when you admitted that you think I’m trying to get rid of you. As if I would ever let you get away from me,” he hummed.

Your nervousness grew, throat incredibly thick all of a sudden as you stared at him, wide-eyed.

“Hugh-.”

“Call me Ransom,” he said, cutting you off with both his words and his lips.

You gasped as he leaned over, pressing his fingers into the back of your neck as he pulled you into a kiss. He wasted no time and pressed his tongue between your lips. You didn’t respond, simply staring at him as he kissed you, trying to process what was happening. It was only when his other hand dropped the brandy to make its way under your sweater did you finally react.

You yanked yourself away from him as best as you could, slapping him with no hesitation. Your chest heaved as you frantically pressed your back into the passenger door. He clenched his jaw as he stared at you before reaching up to touch his cheek.

“What the hell are you doing?” you exclaimed, a very real fear making its way into your system now.

“You can’t be that dumb,” was his only response, and he gave you a look as if you were exactly that.

You blinked at him, hand sliding along the door as you watched his every move.

“You walk around the house looking like that with those big innocent eyes, pretending like any of the men in my family wouldn’t risk it for a night with you,” he continued.

You opened and closed your mouth in shock.

“What-?”

“…but you’re mine, and they know that. They see the way I look at you, the way I talk to you, treat you.”

“I’m not-!”

“You were from the first moment I saw you. I was always going to have you. That was a given. It was only a matter of when and where,” he said it so matter-of-factly that it scared you.

He reached over and undid your seatbelt. You grabbed at his hands as he reached for your waist.

“You walk around like you’re too good for me. Is that what it is, (Y/N)? You think you’re too good for me? A Thrombey?”

You shoved against him, so hard that his back hit the driver’s door, and you hissed as your hands protested the action. You didn’t know if he was trying to scare you or…or if he was serious. Ransom was a lot of things, a lot of vile things, but he wasn’t…he wouldn’t…

His jaw ticked as he glared at you, and you saw one of his hands clench into a fist, the other sliding into his coat pocket.

“How much?” he finally asked, sounding almost exasperated.

You narrowed your eyes.

“Excuse me?”

He looked up at you from beneath his lashes.

“How much is it going to take, hmm? I know you need money. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be caught dead working for the Thrombeys, am I right?”

Anger rose within you as he pulled out his wallet, and you finally put two and two together.

“Fuck you, Ransom,” you snarled.

He smirked, eyes twinkling with something you were scared to name as he gazed at you.

“You think you can throw some money at me, and I’ll just open my legs for you?”

“Ten grand.”

“I don’t want your money you…asshole,” you spat, opening the door.

You hit at him, screaming as he grabbed your arm to pull you back into the car.

“Let go of me-!”

You cut yourself off with a gasp as he successfully pulled you back into the vehicle. In no time, he was over you, slamming the door closed and twisting his fingers in your hair. You let out a noise of protest, reaching up to push against his face when his other hand wrapped around your throat. Your eyes widened and you dug your nails into his arm, but he simply ignored you.

His other hand fumbled with something along the side of the seat, and before you knew it, the seat was falling backwards, taking you and Ransom with it. Fear began to settle in your gut as he had you completely pinned beneath him, now, his grip becoming tighter.

He’d never been this close to you before, ever. His hard chest was firmly pressed against yours, so much so that you could feel his heartbeat, and the calm rhythm you felt there brought tears to your eyes. You felt like your heart was going to jump out of your chest. You shifted, trying to kick him off or something when you felt it. You froze, eyes widening at the feel of a hard length pressing into the side of your thigh. You closed your eyes, trying to convince yourself that this wasn’t happening.

“Hey,” he shook you, forcing your eyes open.

You trembled as he leaned down, nose brushing against yours as he kissed you. You cringed away from him despite the softness of his lips, wanting to be anywhere else.

“I am going to have you. That is what’s going to happen tonight…”

“No,” you managed to gasp, protesting as you attempted to shake your head.

“Yes,” Ransom replied as he nodded his head with an amused smirk on his face. “I am, and you can either lie back and enjoy it, or I’ll just hold you down and make you. It’s your choice.”

You let out a sob, and he let go of your neck. You coughed as he pulled away, and you looked around for anything to get you out of this.

“(Y/N).”

You glanced at him, fresh tears springing forth as he removed his jacket, the fitted sweater almost laughing at you as it showcased his arms, arms that could hold you down with ease. There was no hope for you. These thoughts plagued you as your eyes landed on the bottle of brandy on the driver’s side floor. Ransom followed your gaze before reaching over and grabbing it.

He held it up to you with raised eyebrows, and you hesitantly nodded. You reached for it, but he snatched it back out of your grasp, opting to open it himself before bringing it to your lips. You choked at first, never having been a fan of hard liquor, but it eventually slid down your throat with ease. He sat up a bit, bringing his hand to your hair to tilt your head back.

“Good girl. Whatever makes this easier,” he said, pulling it away.

You were tempted down the whole thing, preferring to just pass out and let him be done with it. The alcohol barely had time to settle hotly in your chest before he was pushing you back, pressing open mouth kisses to your neck.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited for this?” he whispered against your skin.

You squeezed your eyes shut, wincing when he reached down to twist the fabric of your underwear in his hand, yanking and breaking them with a loud pop. His lips found yours again, and you opened your mouth to him, the brandy making your head swim and your body buzz.

He ground against you, and you couldn’t stop a quiet hiss from escaping as the bulge in his pants rubbed against your naked core. You gripped his arms, you weren’t sure why, maybe to ground yourself. Everything was happening so fast, and your fogged brain couldn’t keep up. One of his hands caught on the neck of your shirt, and he ripped it open, drawing a protest out of you.

“Ransom,” you gasped.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he mumbled into your mouth.

Your bra fared the same fate, and your nipples hardened from the cold atmosphere. You shivered, and Ransom pressed against you more, his huge frame shielding you from the cold. He bent his head to take one firm bud into his mouth, and you sharply inhaled. He gave the other one his attention, one of his hands sliding down. To your surprise, he slid one long finger inside of you with ease, and you clenched around him. When had you become so wet?

He hummed, adding a second finger as he flicked his wrist, curling them inside of you over and over again. He pulled a moan from you, and you moved your hand to cover your mouth, closing your eyes as you fought against the heat that was stirring within your gut. His other hand grabbed yours, pulling it away from your mouth just as you came, small gasps and whimpers escaping that he was all too eager to swallow.

Your pussy clenched again as he withdrew from you, and you blinked as you came down, realizing that your vision was spinning a bit, now. Everything was blurring together as you collapsed against the seat, head feeling incredibly heavy all of a sudden. You barely protested as he slipped your skirt down your legs, his sweater following soon after.

You may have been drunk, but you still remembered that you didn’t want this, and a part of you hoped that you could speak to something in him to make him stop.

“Ransom…please,” you mumbled.

He ignored you, too busy releasing himself from the confines of his pants. You dared not look, recalling the feel of it against your thigh, and you knew if you looked then he really would have to hold you down.

“Ransom,” you pleaded, and suddenly he was on you again, a hand on your throat.

“What did I say, hmm?”

His voice was soft, soothing even, but his eyes told a different story, and you started to cry.

“Come on, (Y/N)… You were doing so well,” he said in that patronizing tone that always annoyed you.

You turned your head away and gasped as he began to push his way inside of you. You weren’t a virgin, hadn’t been for a while, but you definitely weren’t the most experienced either. What he lacked in length, if he lacked anything at all, he made up for in girth. Your hands flew to his shoulders, digging into his skin with a vengeance as you stretched around him.

He hissed, and satisfaction bloomed in your chest, but it was quickly squashed when he grabbed your hands, one at a time, and pinned them down. His nose brushed along your collarbone as he bottomed out, and you fought to catch your breath. He pressed his face into the crook of your neck and inhaled, a shudder wracking his frame just before pulling back and snapping his hips against yours.

A strangled moan left your lips, and you tried to move your hands, but his grip was firm.

“I’m going to fuck you in every room of that house,” he groaned, thrusting inside of you.

You trembled beneath him, your mind and body at war. You rejected his words, attempting to remove yourself from the situation, but every time he treated, you clenched even more, as if your body was not only trying to prevent him from leaving, but trying to keep you aware. He eventually let go of one of your hands, and you clawed at the dewy window as your back dragged along the seat.

He tangled his hand in your hair, and you winced at the slight pain there, panting when he grazed his teeth along the skin of your neck.

“You want that? You want me to pin you down and let my family hear who you belong to?”

You shook your head, causing Ransom to chuckle.

“I think you do. I think you like what I do to you. You’re shaking your head, but the way you’re gripping my cock, right now says differently.”

“Ransom,” you gasped when his thrusts became harsher, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the car.

“You can beg all you want, but I own you, (Y/N),” he hissed against your lips. “It’s your word against mine, and I can get the best lawyers in town.”

You swallowed, tears building behind your eyes again as he finally let go of your other hand and gripped your neck. There was a thin layer of sweat on his chest, arms bulging and chest heaving from the effort it took to work his hips against yours.

“You even think of leaving, and I’ll just find you. I’ll tell my grandfather that you were fucking your employers, and you’ll be out of a job, no one will ever hire you,” he threatened.

“No,” you whimpered, at both his words and the coil that was tightening within you.

“Mm, and I’ll still have you as much as I want. Whatever you try, I’m going to have you, so make this easy on yourself, (Y/N),” he purred as you clenched around him. “Enjoy it.”

Broken moans escaped you, now and you dug your hands into his back.

“You know how many girls would kill to be where you are? Huh? I’m fucking you, and hundreds of girls would do anything to be beneath me, and here you are crying about it,” he sneered, pounding into you now.

You tried to keep it at bay, tried to stop it, but you came, tumbling over the edge with a choked sob that almost sounded like a moan. Ransom looked down to where you were connected and cursed.

“Shit,” he hissed, not taking his off of where he was rutting into you. “You’re fucking tight. Milk me, come on my cock. That’s it.”

You felt like it lasted forever as he talked you through it, and soon after you felt a warmth inside of you as he slammed into you one final time. You heaved, fighting to catch your breath and make sense of things as the brown liquor still coursed through you. When Ransom pulled out of you, you shuddered, even more so when the cold finally hit you. You were barely coherent as he maneuvered you, drunk and fucked out and on the cusp of sleep.

It barely registered that you were suddenly wearing a large sweater that wreaked of a cologne you’d smelled on numerous occasions, legs and core sticky from his cum. You heard him right himself, no doubt tucking himself into his pants. You could feel his eyes on you, and you barely peeled yours open to gaze at him as he situated himself and turned the car back on. He looked proud, smug even as he pulled back onto the road.

One of his hands came to rest on the inside of your thigh, digging his fingers into your flesh as he chuckled.

“I can’t wait to do this more often.”

That was the last thing you heard before sleep consumed you.

#ransom thrombey x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom thrombey #ransom drysdale #knives out #hugh ransom drysdale #hugh thrombey #hugh drysdale

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thenixkat · 3 years

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At this, a wave of whispers rustled through the men. "We must prepare defenses. That is my sole concern," I continued. "There's no time to construct gabions or chevaux-de-frise. We need earthworks, simple and straightforward. And we need them dug fast." A smallish man with a wide-brimmed hat stepped out of the line.

"We're here to fight, sir."

I ran my eyes up and down the line of men, pondering how to phrase my rejection in clearer terms. "Do you understand that soldiering takes many forms? That fatigue work is as much a part of victory as . . ."

"We'll dig your defenses, Lieutenant. But when the attack comes, we want to fight."

"What's your name?" I said.

"It's Jacob."

"You will refer to me by my rank," I said sharply.

"Yes, Lieutenant."

"Surely you know you cannot fight," I said with rising frustration. "Surely you know it's impossible."

"We're free men, Lieutenant. Everyone in this line would rather die than lose that freedom."

Again, whispers ruffled the line, obvious support for Jacob's words.

"And I know your men are sick with fever," Jacob continued. "You need men, Lieutenant. Here we are."

"Fighting is out of the question!" I shot back, glancing at Raines. The presumption in Jacob's candor and logic disturbed me. "We can provide you with minimal provisions — boots, stockings, a bit of food — in exchange for labor. We need entrenchments dug! Raines will distribute shovels and pickaxes and whatever else he can find. Fatigue work is all I can offer you," I shouted, exasperated. "It's all I can offer!" They couldn't fight. It was impossible. My own men would not stand for it. The townspeople, now only weakly pro-Unionist, would rebel. An armed force must be unified, not divided!

And the men were untrained. They could not shoot muskets if they had them.

Yet we were in desperate need of men. With just twenty-five, we were a handful against a multitude. What did Forrest's force number? Hundreds?

More?

"Follow me, all of you!" Raines yelled, marching off toward the supply shed.

Raines's order was premature.

Jacob hadn't accepted. He stood still, staring at me with eyes dark as night.

"We'll do a job to make Lincoln proud, he said finally, smiling faintly. Reluctantly, he marched away after Raines. The other men fell in after him.

I feared I hadn't won the argument. Indeed, I felt it had only just begun.

https://web.archive.org/web/20181227210103/http://downloads.animorphsforum.com/books/pdf/47.pdf

Like I know the writers had a tough time making Jake interesting but who in the Applefuck collective decided that we needed to have a book half dedicated to Jake’s racist ass ancestor and a shit load of microaggressions aimed directly at Black readers? Like, this B story doesn’t even get a chance to be interesting b/c it has to parallel the story chosen for this book and we already know that the writers are cowards and aren’t actually gonna kill off anyone important till the end.

Also the writers really said they were gonna make a direct comparison b/w Black people and Hork-Bajir down to the point that we get Toby’s gender swapped humansona. No one stopped to think that outright declaring the Hork-Bajir to be Space Negros was a bad idea. Especially given how EVERY SINGLE NON-HORK ANIMORPHS CHARACTER AND THE WRITERS OUT OF UNIVERSE CALL HORK-BAJIR STUPID AND UGLY. Also since like one of the main ways that the writers ‘show’ us that hork-bajir are stupid is b/c they don’t speak English right its retroactively kinda worse. Retroactively makes a lot of stuff with the hork-bajir worse.

As I am gracious, I’m taking Mr. Jacob as one of Toby’s past lives. Cause why not? Does make it kinda fucked up but eh.

#nix meows #animorphs #hork-bajir #nix reads animorphs #and yes Jacob is human Toby #the same way that elfangor's friend i cant be bothered to remember's name is andalite marco #and the way that young chapman is just time displaced david #these writers aren't very good at making minor characters their own people #long post

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starstruckpurpledragon · 3 years

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So I watched WW84 last night and was very... underwhelmed.

Spoilers below the cut

So, in theory, the movie had an interesting plot and a decent message. The whole thing revolved around the idea that things gained through lies and cheats are never as satisfying as things gained through honesty and hard work. That’s the message Hippolyta tries to teach tiny Diana in the flashback at the start of the movie and it’s the message Diana uses the lasso of truth to convey to the world at the climax of the movie.

Unfortunately, the movie itself is riddled with problems. The most noticeable being the gratuitous racism, which is part of the movie’s ham-handed attempt to tie into the Cold War. The second most noticeable problem with the movie is that it’s boring.

Yup, it’s boring. The pacing is terrible and if I hadn’t been watching with someone else I’d have stopped the movie about halfway through because the writing failed to draw me in and get me invested in the characters or in the plot or in... anything at all.

Diana is introduced into the movie proper, after the flashback prologue, flipping around on her lasso, throwing her tiara around (which I do love), and sliding around on her ridiculously heeled shoes like friction doesn’t exist on command. It’s a shift in her fighting abilities - making her abilities not just superhuman but uncanny-valley unreal - that I had hoped wasn’t as big of a problem as the trailers made it look. Unfortunately, it’s actually worse in the movie. All the fight scenes are kind of unwatchable as a result, though none so much as that first fight scene in the mall.

After the mall fight, the illegal black market items the thieves tried to steal wind up at Diana’s workplace, one of which is to be identified by her new coworker Barbara Minerva, who’s sweet and nervous and seems to have a massive crush on Diana. Diana is standoffish at first but is taken in by Barbara’s kindness and they end up having dinner together.

The whole thing reads as a really cute date - honestly, I’d have loved for her to be Diana’s new love interest, but of course the hero can’t be allowed to stop pining for Chris Pine. It’s in his name, after all.

Anyway, the item Barbara is supposed to identify turns out to be a wishing stone of the jerkass genie variety. It gets compared to the Monkey’s Paw at one point. It grants a joking request for a cup of coffee for an unknown price, grants Diana’s unspoken wish to have Steve back for the price of her powers, and grants Barbara her desire to be more like Diana - powers and strength - in exchange for the kindness that made her so likable.

And then comes Maxwell Lord who figures out how to loophole abuse the wish-granting system. He wishes to become the avatar of the stone and it melts right into him, giving him both the ability to grant wishes and to decide what to take in trade. And if other people make wishes for his sake, then they’ll also be the ones paying the price for his sake.

Meanwhile, Diana is trying to find the stone again. She’s got Steve back and at least manages to realize that anything powerful enough to be granting these kind of wishes is going to have a major downside. But neither she nor Steve are self aware enough to realize that there’s now a non-consenting third party in their relationship, otherwise known as that poor man Steve is possessing. They go to the man’s apartment, look through his clothes, sleep in his bed, and yet can’t even recognize that Steve’s come back to life at this other man’s expense. Either he’s riding parasite in someone else’s body, suppressing that guy’s consciousness entirely. Or Steve swapped places, meaning the stone killed a guy to bring Steve back. Either way, they’re using someone else’s body without permission and Diana’s only concern is making sure she gets to keep Steve this time. Even he’s not too concerned with the person whose body he’s riding around in - it’s the potential nuclear war that makes him push Diana to reject her wish and let him return to being dead.

This whole thing is portrayed as romantic instead of morally and ethically gross. Like... these are our heroes? Seriously? Are you sure???

The entire part of the movie that took place in Egypt could have been cut and the movie would have been significantly less racist and the plot would have made significantly more sense. And we could have skipped the nonsensical theft of a jet that Steve shouldn’t be able to fly - which I take as foreshadowing he’s not the real Steve, but a lie based on Diana’s memory of Steve, but is somehow really just an excuse to have the invisible jet show up and have Steve inadvertently tell Diana all she needs to know to unlock the ability to fly later on in the movie.

O_o

Back to our villains. Barbara’s powers are going to her head. The stronger she grows, the more her personality is warped. She fixates on her desire never to be hurt again, but in doing so begins lashing out at others eventually harming those she’d previously been kind to, including her homeless friend and Diana herself. She views Diana’s attempts to rekindle her compassion and rationality as condescension and insults, leading to Barbara eventually rejecting her humanity entirely by giving up her initial wish in favor of becoming something new, a never before seen apex predator stronger and more capable than Diana. This leads to her transformation into Cheetah. (Not that Cheetahs are actually apex predators, but... artistic license? Whatever.)

Ultimately, though, Barbara isn’t really the most interesting villain of the movie. She’s kind of a tired trope. Mousey white woman who’d be gorgeous if she took the time to follow society’s beauty standards envies the seemingly effortlessly beautiful and ambiguously foreign Diana Prince, turns into a bitch when granted the power and beauty she craved, and is eventually defeated because there’d never be enough strength and power in the world to satisfy her - because the safety it represented for her was never real and it could never make her happy because of that fact. She’d always want more.

Maxwell Lord, however, is a very interesting villain. We get some of his backstory at one point. He grew up ostracized and alone due to abusive parents and peers who bullied him for being Hispanic. As an adult he tries to erase everything that marks him as not-white, giving into the peer pressure racism exudes on him to blend in. But his attempt to create the American Dream for himself and his son is falling apart (and heavily implied to be a con job these days) and he’s so focused on being what he thinks his son needs that he doesn’t realize that everything he’s doing is taking him further and further away from the one person who matters to him the most.

It’s rather understandable that he doesn’t care about the negative effects the wishes have on other people because other people have always treated him badly. And he doesn’t care about the negative effects granting wishes has on him personally, because he always believes with a little more time he can fix everything. It’s the realization that his son is out there alone and in danger of being killed that makes him reject his powers and his wish - and probably doing a lot more to reverse all the subsequent wishes than anything else - because the one thing at the core of who he is was his love for his son. His desire for his son to have a better life than he has and to be a better person than he has been.

Honestly, Maxwell Lord might be the only likable character in the movie. Admittedly, he’s played by Pedro Pascal who is super adorable and I may be biased as a result.

Anyway, there are the bones of a good movie in there. It’s unfortunate that the whole thing suffered from bad everything else.

#wonder woman 1984 #to sum up the movie was racist and boring and I don't recommend #Pedro Pascal is adorable though so at least there is that #let women fight in comfortable shoes already #hated every pair of shoes in the movie with the burning passion of a thousand suns

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jamiedc-they-them · 4 years

Text

Sibling Duty Part III (Platonic)

Requested Imagine: “Six or so months later, your sister finds a way to - hopefully - save your bond and bring you home.”

Daisy was terrified as she held your unmoving hand in her own. She didn’t think she had ever been this afraid before. She clutched your hand like a lifeline; which itself was ironic, all-be-it in a very morbid way.

You were still, motionless, unmoving, and you hadn’t been since your rescue. Why Mack had and you hadn’t, she didn’t know. Don’t get her wrong, she was ecstatic to have her big brother figure back. But now all was left was you.

Now, all you had to do was wake up.

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It was seeing you, in android form, sure; but it was seeing you for the first time since you had left SHIELD and gone your own way. It was the way you looked different; hair wise, but you also looked to have a slightly different shaped face; one that was less wide.

You had a few LMDs, but the rest were all Daisy. It was a very fucked up Johnson family reunion. For Daisy, it reminded her of how you both first found out you were sisters.

Then again, that just brought back up the reminder of what had happened with Lincoln and how far you went to get her back; only to break your relationship a bit.

Now, it had been well over six months; and not a word had been heard from you. Hell, not even a picture of where you could be. You were pretty much a ghost to the world.

“Daisy?” She heard a voice say, before a shake of her shoulder, “Daisy?” The voice asked again, this time a little louder; but it was still soft.

She fully came back to reality, looking up into the worried eyes of Jemma Simmons; someone who was a sister to you both. It was a dynamic she had slowly found herself leaning on more and more as she searched and searched for you, even with everything going on.

Jemma offered the help she could with her job and the new threats you were dealing with; she knew everyone on the team wanted to look for you. However, Mace had forbid it, calling you a fugitive and just letting you do whatever it was you were doing.

Now, as it had turned out, AIDA had you in her clutches and in the Framework. Somehow, she had found you and taken you.

“Are you alright?” Jemma asked, leaning down slightly so the sisters met eyes. Daisy took a moment to fully compose herself before she nodded. Even if neither of them fully believed the nod. They had a time limit and they couldn’t waste any more time in the hope of finding their friends. You were obviously on that list. So, the sooner they got started, the better.

“We know where she is. We can save her, Jemma. I’m not gonna leave her.” Jemma nodded at her friend’s words.

“None of us will, Daisy. She’s family, we’ll get her out no matter what.” Now it was Daisy who nodded at her best friend’s words. Then she took the hand that was offered and was on her feet the next moment.

“Let’s go get our friends back.” She said, determined.

Waking up with Grant Ward wasn’t something she expected, or really wanted; but it was what she was stuck with for now. She mainly shadowed him while trying to not give away the fact that she had no fucking idea what she was doing.

As you would both say, she was, “winging it with only one wing actually flapping” dumb phrase? Sure; but it made sense to you both; about how you both almost always found yourself surviving by the skin of your teeth despite the odds.

Despite her want to find you all and bring you home, the fact that AIDA had you meant you were alive. So, despite probably having to be stuck with Ward for the day, that news that you weren’t dead kept her going.

It especially kept her going when she had been caught and thrown into a cell. She watched as AIDA walked into the cell and tried to get her to sell out where her and her friends were in the real world.

“I can give you what you want.” She tempted the agent with; or rather, tried to.

“There’s nothing you can give me that –”

“I know part of it is Lincoln Campbell; but the main things is Y/N Johnson.” Daisy stopped at looked at the woman with wide eyes, “She’s here, Daisy. She’s a in a cell near you. I can make her forget the thing I fixed for her to try and help you fix the thing you want fixed. Losing Lincoln was the thing that drove the nail in the coffin, but your shattered bond with Y/N was what really made you leave.” Daisy really didn’t want to make the psychotic bitch know she was right; but, by the villain grin, she knew.

It was then that she finally realised what AIDA had said, “What did you do to her?” Daisy asked, mustering up all the hate she could for the woman.

“I made her fix her regret. She thinks you two are never going to be like the sisters you were. So, I fixed her perceived flaw.” Daisy looked at the floor as tears gathered in her eyes at the realisation of what that perceived flaw was.

Still, she then looked at AIDA firmly, “I guess I’ll just have to bank on my stubbornness.” She said.

Daisy sat in the cell, mind racing with why you had reached the conclusion you had; she never blamed you, only herself. Then again, you had ran before she had, so she didn’t have time to tell you. Before she’d found it out you had left, she had planned on leaving you a note; obviously, that plan went awry when she saw you were already gone.

AIDA was gone the next moment, smile fully gone.

Now, she was alone, and her friends probably weren’t coming for her. Actually, that was a good thing, as then they’d probably get caught too. However, it did mean that her plan was pretty much over before it had really begun.

That was until Melinda May entered her cell. However, she wasn’t alone; there was someone behind her. You.

You didn’t exactly look happy to see your sister; you tried, but a part of you softened seeing her in the state she was in, “Y/N tells me you’re inhuman. Is that true?” May asked, Daisy nodded. The next moment she turned into a shell, one that then burst open.

She was out and with you both, taking down the HYDRA agents that stood between you both and freedom; but she noticed how harder hitting you were without the guidance of SHIELD; you were more like streetlighting than anything else. You were biting, scratching; you were pretty much the opposite to what the agents had been trained for.

See, they were trained for someone that would fight like them, by the rules; you didn’t, you did what you had to and beat them. Plus, your powers helped too.

Finally, she quaked AIDA out of the window, feeling some satisfaction at getting the woman back that had caused her sister pain.

She then turned to you, “I know we left things in a bad place,” She said, hoping that it didn’t sound out of place in this world; your scoff told her she was on the right track, “But, I want to make things right. I’m so, so, sorry for what I did,” She didn’t know what it was here, but she still meant it, “But, we have to work together if we’re going to get out of this alive.”

You seemed hesitant, very hesitant to work with your sister again. She only kept her pleading eyes on you, trying to convince you silently.

The next moment, you nodded; she let out the breath she was holding as she nodded too.

It was a start.

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“Hello?” Jemma asked, answering her phone.

“Jemma, it’s me.” Jemma let out a sigh of relief, hearing her friend’s voice once again.

“Daisy, thank god –”

“Y/N is with me.” She felt her body freeze, for a moment she couldn’t speak, “Jemma, you there?” Daisy checked at the silence on the other end of the phone.

“I am, yes. Can – can I talk to her?” She asked; Daisy handed it to you.

“Yeah?” You asked but heard an in take of air at the other end. You only handed the phone back to your sister, “No one there.” You pushed it away as Daisy tried to hand it to you again.

“We’ll see you soon….yeah you too.” She said to whoever was actually on the other line before she hung up.

You continued to walk down the street with a now ex-HYDRA member and your sister that you really still weren’t sure on; not after what she had done.

You both stopped by a car, “We’ve already committed treason.” May said, pointing to the run-down thing.

“What’s a little Grant Theft Auto?” Daisy asked sarcastically as you both made your way towards it. However, you all stopped as a woman did a double take of you and then looked up; following her gaze, you saw your three photos up on the board. So, Daisy’s idea of the woman being racist (while not unprompted) wasn’t true in this instance.

You all got in the car, you and your sister looked at each other; only two seats, so someone would be cramped.

She held up her fist, raising an eyebrow, “Oh for fucks sake.” You groaned as you put your face in your hands.

“Look, not much time, I know. But, one of us need to make this sacrifice; and I don’t see any other way of finding out which one it is.” She manage to hold herself at the word, “sacrifice” and waited for you to raise your own hand.

You did, and the two of you counted to three before showing your plays. You repeated it two more times, with Daisy coming out victorious.

“Fuck.” You groaned; as you went to go in the back, she stopped you by grabbing your arm.

“We can swap.” She offered, you looked at her with some suspicion, “Look, Y/nn, I can’t quite remember what I did. All I know is that I’m sorry for it.” She said, you heard the honesty behind them.

“Just bring the chair back.” You said, Daisy did as such with a sigh; you then found yourself cramped in the back as Daisy sat next to May.

The gesture to swap, however, was a kind one. Maybe she was different and meant to make things up to you.

“Are you sure the Patriot’s dead?” Daisy asked as May delivered the news to you both; May looked at you with a bit of sympathy as she said them, knowing how much you looked up to the man.

May got out the car, with Daisy lowering the chair for you to get out as well, offering you a hand to help not fall over; you took it, gratefully, “I saw the building collapse on him. I have the body cam footage to prove it. “ May said as the three of you hid behind a container as you saw one of the drones nearby.

She walked over to you both, “This is our window.” She told you; with that, you both turned the corner in sync and started walking down the alley way to try and meet with a contact. It had been so long since you had been out in the world, that you had no idea as to who it was.

Daisy knocked on the door, it opened to reveal a man with a weapon that was pointed directly at your sister.

“Get out of here.” He threatened you, he pointed it at you as you took a step forward to protect your sister; she only grabbed your arm and pulled you back before looking back at the man.

“Hey, hey. We are friends of the resistance.” Daisy told him.

“I know who you are. There’s chatter all over the police band. Never thought I’d hear your name again, Y/N.” He admitted as he looked at you.

“Times change, anything is possible.” You offered as a vague explanation.

“We weren’t followed. We were careful.” Daisy told the guy. Well, turns out not as careful as you wanted to have been; as HYDRA agents swarmed out of a van and started firing at you.

“Milkman, I have contact!” The man yelled into the radio. He was then hit in the leg with a bullet.

“Milkman?” You asked as you dragged him behind cover with you; your sister and May covering your actions.

“Missed your comments on them, sweetheart.” He said as you put pressure on his leg.

A grenade was fired at you, “Incoming!” Daisy yelled as she used her ability to send it back at them. Meanwhile, May ran to you and grabbed the guy and helped you pull him into the warehouse. As our entered, Daisy slammed the door shut just as the explosion went off.

“He’s still breathing,” Thank god, “But we’re still going to have to find another way out of here.” May informed you both.

“How long before HYDRA busts down that door?” Daisy asked, turning to you both.

“Not long.”, May said as she looked at your sister, “They’ll be following SOP for hostile Inhumans. Six teams to sweep the area. But, if they’ve taken cover, they’ll call in an air strike and sweep through the rubble later.” She told you both.

“Great, real fucking cheery.” Daisy couldn’t help but nod at your words.

“Like what they did with the patriot?” Daisy asked, and you saw something flicker in Melinda’s face; guilt mostly.

“What I did.” You looked to your sister, you both having the same look that went from shock to realisation; May stood up and faced Daisy, “That air strike was on my order.”

Daisy opened her mouth, but nothing came out; it seemed to be a mix of want to both comfort and condone. Ultimately, however, he went with comfort, “You didn’t know.”

“Doesn’t change what I did.” Daisy met your eyes for a moment as she finally realised what her sin for you to hate her had been.

“I get that, really I do. But we do what we can to make up for it. You can’t blame yourself for their lies. Once you learned the truth, you fought back. That is what we need. If more people see what you saw, maybe they’ll fight back too.” Daisy said in an attempt to put some hope into the older woman.

Those HYDRA agents May mentioned? They sure showed up; May got them by surprise, while you and Daisy took them on with brute force. You kicked one as Daisy slammed the weapon of her enemy into his face to stop him from shooting either of you; you then punched your one and, in the same motion, made a dark blade and shoved it into this throat. Daisy, was more delicate with hers, knocking him out and lowering him to the floor.

“Nice job.” Your younger sister complemented as she nodded at you; you slowly returned it. She then turned to May, “Two down.” She said, before a laser sight was pointed at her chest.

“Stop right there.” The HYDRA agent ordered; he was knocked unconscious the next moment by someone your sister knew. A large man who seemed to be built like a tank.

“Mack?!” She asked as she started making her way towards him; he, however, aimed his gun at May, “Mack…” Daisy said as he aimed his gun at the oldest of you all.

He answered, but didn’t break eye contact with May, “I’m here to help you and your sister, not the woman who held my daughter hostage.”

“May is the only reason we are alive. She helped us escape. HYDRA messed with her head, but she’s fighting back now.” She tried to reason with her friend.

“How do you know she’s not lying?” He asked.

It was then that someone else decided to join this argument, an older man who seemed to do a double take of you and Daisy before standing between Mack and May, “Not a good time to be holding guns on our allies.” The HYDRA radio going off got all of your attention; that just meant more would soon be coming.

“We have to go, now.” He then held his arms up a little, “Mack, I get it. These wounds don’t heal overnight. But for reasons I can’t fully explain, I trust this woman.” He put his hand on Mack’s rifle and lowered it, “And so should you.”

You were out and managed to broadcast what had actually happened when the patriot died. As Daisy watched the broadcast, she saw you look down in grief at the footage; she put a hand on your back and rubbed it to try and help you silently.

“I’m sorry…were you close?” She asked, trying to keep it quiet to not interrupt the broadcast or get the attention of anyone else.

You wiped at a tear as it started to fall; you failed to catch another one, “Not really, just an agent and leader type thing…..But, uh, you know with what happened with mum and dad…..he was the only thing I had close to that.” You said as you managed to make yourself stop crying, to move to sniffling a little.

“I’m sorry I betrayed it.” It made sense to her now; the resentment and why you were in the cell.

“Yeah, well; save dad it did not.” The words hurt her, but she looked back to the broadcast.

She did, however, move the arm around your shoulder, you placed your head on hers. She put hers on top of your own.

It was nice, to have a moment like this again with you; she closed her eyes for a moment, wishing she knew where you were in the real world right now. This, however, would be a decent substitute for now; even if it wasn’t real and this was an alternate version of yourself.

“Daisy.” Jemma said in relief as she hugged her friend, her eyes then widened as she saw you; it wasn’t that she doubted Daisy’s words; it was just that seeing you again after so long was something she had wanted for a while now; it didn’t feel right to have on sister figure back and not the other.

“Y/N!” She cried out as she hugged you tightly, as if doing otherwise would make you disappear. You looked at Daisy, who smiled a bit; but that smile turned amused once she saw your look of confusion and fear.

“She doing that to you too, huh?” A voice that made you smile asked.

“Trip!” You yelled, hugging your best friend after Jemma had let go, he returned it gently, but lifted you up as that was the way your momentum carried you from pretty much jumping and attacking him with said hug.

“Hey Y/N! Good to see you again!” He said, his usual enthusiasm making your smile grow more as he put you back on the ground, “I haven’t seen Derek around, where is that little bastard?” Then name of the guy who had been shot made your smile drop.

“Damn, I’m sorry to hear that, girl. I know you were planning on asking the question.” He said, mourning the loss of a friend.

“Yeah, well, he did point a gun at me.” You both laughed a little at his action.

“You were seeing someone?” Daisy asked as her and Jemma approached you.

“It was before you ratted me out,” Daisy’s smile wobbled a little in hurt, “But, yeah. You liked him, for the most part.” You revealed, Daisy’s smile returning to pretty much normal.

“Radcliff gave me the coordinates to the frameworks back door.” Daisy told her friend after pulling her aside.

“Will it work?”

“According to him, all we have to do is pass through the exit point, and your mind disconnects from the Framework.” Daisy informed Jemma of the details.

“So, we just need to get everyone there.” Jemma said, plan already coming together in her mind.

“Which won’t be easy, what with May and Mack having no idea what’s really happening….Y/N and I are on decent terms so that crosses her off the list –”

“Does she know?” Daisy shook her head at Jemma’s question.

“Well….then we have Fitz and his HYDRA guards that are around him at all times.” Daisy softened, silently trying to tell her friend at the low chance of that working.

“Simmons…we can’t rescue Fitz right now. There’s no time.” Jemma’s face then hardened.

“Oh, so you can save your sister, but I can’t save the man that I love. That hardly seems fair.”

“Simmons, I love you; but we can’t –”

“No, we can’t just leave him behind!” She rose her voice a little as she pushed the hand Daisy had reached out to place on her shoulder in a comforting manner, “He’s part of our team –”

“And the current head of HYDRA. The Fitz in this world wants us all dead.”

“Daisy –”

“I know it’s not his fault –”

“What if it was Y/N?” Jemma’s words were cold but said with pure desperation.

“Jemma, that’s not fair.” Daisy’s voice cracked a little, tears started to shine in her eyes.

“If it was her, you’d do everything in your power to get her to this bloody back door. So, we are going to do the same with Fitz.” She begged her friend to see things from her perspective if the tables were flipped.

“I would make the exact same decision, because this is the reality, we are in. She’s family, you said it yourself that –”

“Fitz is family too.” Jemma argued.

“Of course, he is,” Daisy said firmly, “But if we don’t get the others out of here, then AIDA will kill all of them. Look, I promise we will find a way to get Fitz out once everyone is safe, ok?” Jemma nodded, but she clearly didn’t like it.

“Hey,” She turned to see you walking towards her; you placed a comforting hand on her arm, “Are you ok?” You asked, genuinely concerned for what your sister had said to make her friend upset.

She nodded, smiling both sadly and in nostalgia; you would always act in an older sisterly fashion to everyone who came under, “BUS kids”; but she knew they were lucky to have you looking out for them.

“I’m fine.” She said, but you clearly didn’t believe it.

“I’m sorry for whatever it was she said. I know she has the best of intentions….Well, I guess we both have that in common.” Jemma cocked her head to the side.

“Both have what in common?” She asked, genuinely curious as to what your answer would be.

“Both try and help, only to make that worse. One of our many flaws. I just hope you don’t have that in you either.”

She did, unfortunately, when she ended up killing Alister Fitz in an attempt to find Fitz. She found you all as you boarded the Quinjet to go to the location; Daisy had only told you it was a place you needed to go to. So, you did.

She was your sister after all, you weren’t exactly going to let her go on this mission alone.

So, you did follow her into the place, only to be met with heat. The heat, however, was something that Daisy wanted to jump into, “WHAT?!” You yelled, looking at her like she was insane, “Are you insane?!”

“Y/N –”

“No, Daisy, no,” Oh no, you’d brought out the pointing finger and raised your voice; she gulped, “I’ve seen a lot of crazy fucking things; but this takes the fucking cake. What the fuck?” You asked her, exasperated.

She was beginning to lose Mack, now you. Fuck off was she going to lose you; she didn’t want to lose anyone, but especially you.

Not again.

“Look, I know this sounds insane –”

“Oh, another world? Sure, sounds dumb, but whatever right? I live in a world where Nazi’s fucking exist and rule the god damn world and that as a whole lie. So, what’s next?” You asked as you rose your hands to the ceiling and turned away; she could tell this was all getting to you.

“I need you to jump with me,” You looked at her with fear now, “I need you to trust me.” She asked holding out her hand to you.

Gunshots, from the room Jemma was in and from HYDRA agents stopped you from taking your sisters hand.

You both fired back at agents before you turned to Daisy, “Get the fucking thing open!” You yelled as you fired more before going for a new clip, only to find you had none. You felt a tap on your shoulder, turning, Daisy held one out for you; you took it as she held out her hand once again.

Coulson and May were through, then Jemma and Fitz.

You stayed back as Mack and Daisy had their talk, about how Mack was going to stay for his daughter, real or not. He walked away, you gave him an understanding smile as he passed you; he gave you a nod and smile of thanks of not stopping him.

“So, we’re sisters in the real world?” You asked, deciding not to beat around the bush.

Daisy nodded, playing with her fingers, “Yeah, didn’t know each other for a while. But we’ve been close as if we were.” She told you; now it was your turn to nod.

“I knew you when you were young here….then the thing with mum and dad….I had to look after you –”

“I’m sorry that I –”

“Look, those people are your family too; but, here, you’re mine,” You rested a hand on her shoulder and guided her to the gate. She held out her hand and activated it, “So I need to do what I need to protect you.”

The next moment, you pushed her in.

“DAISY!” Jemma yelled as she ran over to her friend who had fallen off of the table. Daisy looked at Jemma with a pained look.

“Y/N didn’t come with me.” Jemma’s own face went crestfallen at the news.

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You entered the base, seeing it a little emptier than last time. You saw Hope sleeping, curled up next to her father. You smiled softly at the sight of it; remembering when you and Daisy were on your own and you had to step up to the plate on that part.

You walked over, sitting down on the floor opposite them; Mack looked at you with a confused look, “Decided to stay, she has her family there.” You looked a little pained by the words but pushed through anyway.

You looked at Hope softly as you spoke, “I remember when we were pretty young, Daisy and I, our parents died when HYDRA took over. She allowed herself to get swayed a bit, I went the other way, joined this fuckers,” You quickly caught yourself and looked at him apologetically for the language; he just waved you off, “Thought I could protect her and keep her safe….then my powers activated – I never saw her more scared. She ran off to her boyfriend….but he knew me. Even then, he had to protect his cover; so, he brought me in….”

“You ever loved someone and hated them at the same time?” Mack thought about it before he nodded, “Yeah, that was me with her. I mean, she sold me out and got me locked up, seemed to hate me….But, she’s my sister, I was all she had – I mean, I’m glad she had Ward to a degree; but he was putting on an act about everything but his feelings for her. You know, I thought about it for years. What I was going to say or do to her when I got out,”

“I thought about hitting her, throwing all the hate my power had stored up at her in one fell swoop; thought about just yelling at her, kicking and screaming as they dragged me to whatever awaited me with those people.”

“But she was all I had too. So, I knew I couldn’t exactly do that. It’s weird, having all this anger; just bitter hatred for someone you love bubbling inside you; you hate yourself for it because of the anger, but also just because you have no outlet for it. You have all these feelings and pain inside of you that you just want to get out there, but you can’t.”

“So, when the only outlet is yourself….You can get the picture.” Mack nodded sympathetically; he ran his hand through his daughter’s hair as you had said your piece. You didn’t know why you were just letting it all out to this guy you knew only a little. But it did feel good to get it out there; to have it known, even if by someone who was pretty much a stranger.

“She cares about you.” He noted, you nodded.

“She cares about you too.” He nodded.

“That’s the thing about family; they make you do the stupidest shit in their name,” You nudged your head to Hope, “Like giving up a chance to leave a dystopian hellscape to be with them to the end,” Mack chuckled at your words, “Or leaving them so they can go with be those that are better equipped for it.”

“Y/N –” Mack started to say, but you shook your head.

“That’s family Mack; that’s kids for you, you raise them then set them free. I did what I could for my Daisy here. Now it’s up to them to do what they can for their Daisy,” You stood up, “There’s at least one thing I did right, I never gave up on her. Even if I hated her sometimes.” You said as you nodded to him and started to leave.

“Hey,” You turned back to face him, “Wherever it is you go, I hope you get there alright.” You smiled at him for his words.

“You too, big guy; you too.” With that, you left to pack your bags and go on your own way.

“I’m gonna deck that little bitch when she gets out!” Daisy was seething, not only had she had to leave one of her best friends behind, you were also still there.

“Daisy –” Jemma’s words fell on deaf ears.

“I mean, what the fuck? Who does that to their own sister.”

“Daisy –” Again, Daisy wasn’t listening.

“Why? Why would she do that? I mean –”

“Daisy!” Finally, Daisy turned to Jemma, who only hugged her friend, “We’re going to get them out. They’re going to be ok.” She said as she felt Daisy tighten the hug; Jemma did so too in return.

“I just don’t understand why she would do this.” She admitted as she tried to hold the tears at bay, knowing they wouldn’t help you.

The doubt had always been there, but now it was really weighing down on her.

“Hey,” Jemma said as she pulled away, seemingly sensing her friend’s feelings, “She did what she thought was right, now you do what you think is right.” She had to hand it to Simmons, as much as you were damn good at playing older sister when needed, she could step up to the plate too when it came to advice and guidance.

“Thanks Jemma.” She said, smiling a little at the woman in question.

“Of course, Daisy.” The older sister figure replied with.

You, meanwhile, walked streets that were becoming more and more empty; now it really felt post-apocalyptic. You knew your destination; you had been there so many times before.

The riots had continued, but the street you were on had almost none. It was nice, to have this moment of piece and quiet as you walked towards the entrance; it seemed the place hadn’t bee nosed in a while. That meant that no one would be inside, which was good. You only wanted one or two items, if they were even there at all.

You gulped as you looked at the rundown place; you changed your mind, it made it worse. Having no one inside meant that you’d be alone again, this time with no one to distract you.

You would be like all the other kids in the orphanage.

You put your hand against the door and took a breath, opening it slowly, the thing creaked as if it hadn’t been opened in years. Finally, the worse of it was done, it was open, and you were in.

Cobwebs had pretty much taken over the aesthetics of the place; that and dust were the two main things you could see with your flashlight that was the only thing piercing through the darkness.

Part of you wanted to call out, but you knew that doing that would only lead to giving your position away; it was something you had taught Daisy when you were young. Now, you were being forced to adhere by your own advice.

AIDA had suddenly appeared in place with Fitz; that, and Mack and you laid gently on the floor. She looked at you, seeing the device to the framework still on your head; it meant you were still there, but you were also still alive.

But only thing was, she didn’t quite know how to get you out of there from here.

You continued to look for what it was you wanted, a simple framed photo to take with you wherever you went to next. You hadn’t thought that far ahead, for now this was the only thing that mattered to you.

You opened every draw, looked under the beds; but still, nothing turned up.

That was, until a gun cocked behind you.

They had you plugged into the framework to keep you alive; Daisy watched you as you laid still on the table. Part of you looked at peace with your choice; she, however, was anything but.

“Still now change?” Coulson asked as he entered the room. Daisy turned to him and then back to you.

“Nothing.” She wished the answer was different; very different, but for now it was all she had to report.

“God what a mess.” She said, putting her hands on her head as her eyes started to shine.

“She looks a lot more gothic, seems you both went down that route.” Daisy laughed a little at his joke; you had dolled yourself up a bit with makeup. To her, it suited you.

“Yeah, she looks like she’s had it rough for the past few months.” She said, hand on hips as she looked at you once again.

Coulson nodded, “Yeah, but she made it. And she’s here now.” Coulson said, trying to look on the good side of things for her sake.

“That’s true.” She said, going along with it.

In a moment of distraction from Talbot, Elena had entered the framework herself via an extra helmet that Jemma must have made at some point, “No, no, no, no.” Now three of her friends were in there. It then dawned on her what else it meant, “She’s going for Mack.” That meant that now you were even more alone.

You were pinned against the table, rifle chocking you; you grabbed the hair of your attacked and slammed it on the table, pushing them back. You summoned a blade made of your power and swung it, they blocked used your momentum to get you off balance; the rifle smacked your face again, your nose dripping blood.

“What the hell?” Daisy turned to Coulson at his question, she saw blood slowly drip from your nose; she dried it off with her finger.

“Shit.” She cursed, running back to her laptop that held the code she was combing through for any sight of you guys.

Their hands were around your throat, your vision blurred as you got closer and closer to darkness. Your power seemed to take over, with a shockwave effect of darkness shooting out from you and flinging him away from you.

You got back to your feet. You took a breath as you fully let yourself recover. Well, you did until your hand pressed against something; a knife wound.

“Shi—” You fell to the ground before you finished your words.

Your machine spiked, interrupting Daisy’s conversation with Robbie, “What the hell have you done, Y/N?” She didn’t know why she was blaming you; but she still tried to find you once again in the framework code. When she did, she froze, “Shit.”

“What is it?” Robbie asked, standing beside her; Jemma then ran into the room.

“Oh god.” She cursed as she came to stand beside the two. With shaky hands, Daisy typed as quickly as she could to try and find the nearest exit.

“Fuck!” She cursed as she slipped and hit the wrong key; then another; then another, “Come on Daisy, come on concentrate.” She told herself as she typed more and more; each time hitting the key faster and harder.

“Daisy, Daisy stop!” Jemma said, grabbing Daisy’s hands and forcing the younger girl to face her, “The exit is there.” She said, pointing to the code that read, “exit”.

“Oh…” Daisy said, having not realised that.

“Hey,” She turned to Robbie, “You care about this girl, yeah?” She nodded instantly, “Alright, then all you need to do is to get the from there,” He pointed roughly to where she found you, “To here.” He fished by pointing to the exit.

“Daisy, if anyone can do this, it’s you. You have the biggest heart out of anyone here. You can do this; you just need to use things she’d remember.” Jemma said softly, trying to prompt her best friend.

“Because we don’t give up on family, no matter what.” She said; Jemma nodded with a smile.

“Exactly.” Daisy turned back to the computer; she knew what she had to do.

You knew you couldn’t stop; you could, but you couldn’t. Your sister was gone, but you still needed to do this for her. You couldn’t stop.

You turned, finding your name written in the floor for a moment; granted, in your attacker’s blood, but it was still your name. It dissolved in a few seconds, but it told you who it was.

It was Daisy communicating with you.

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A ring appeared on the floor, you crawled to it and picked it up; looking at the sliver ring, it didn’t hold much significance at first; but then you looked at the floor and saw a destroyed bear, one you gave Daisy when she was young.

You picked it up, blood coating some of it’s fur; but you saw an arrow on it pointing to the door.

You went as quickly as you could, while keeping pressure on your wound, to the door. Once you reached it, a necklace was on the floor; again, another arrow on it pointing you back down the street. You followed it, hearing gunshots; however, the building you were leaning against was suddenly gone.; then a car across the street.

“Oh, fuck.” You cursed as you willed yourself to speed up. More gunshots appeared behind you however as you ran. They barely missed; whoever was chasing you was definitely getting closer.

You may not have gotten what you wanted from there, but you had found something more valuable; a way to be with your sister once again.

A bullet struck your leg, sending you to the ground; you crawled behind a car. The net moment, however, the shooting stopped.

“What did you do?” Robbie asked, seeing the smirk on Daisy’s face; she turned to him.

“Deleted the guys that were attacking Y/N.” She said with slight glee.

“You can just do that?” He raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

“Course, don’t fuck with the Johnsons.” She said as a warning.

You had reached a grave, one that was apparently for fallen SHIELD agents; who knows, maybe your sister was playing some kind of sick joke on you without our knowledge.

However, at the end of the grave was the photo you were looking for; an arrow pointing down was on it. You looked down and saw a portal in the grave.

So, taking a breath, you jumped into it.

Now, all you had to do was wake up.

“Come on Y/N, come on; come back to me; come back to us…please.” She said in a broken whisper as she squeezed your hand, as if it would give you some life.

“Please, I just got you back.” She begged, before letting out another sob. Maybe you were gone, maybe, despite everything, you had finally passed away.

The next moment, she felt your hand move a little. Now a happy and shocked sob left her mouth as you then let out a gasp of air and opened your eyes.

She immediately removed your helmet and pulled you up and hugged you tightly; for real now.

You returned it as strongly as you could. She was breaking down in your arms, but it was out of joy now. You were home; you were with them again; she had you in her life again.

The Johnson sisters were back together.

If this was to be your last meal, you were to make it count; Daisy was going to make sure you had a good meal after just surviving hell. She wasn’t sure what you had done in your spare time, but that was ok; you’d tell her when you were ready.

You put your glasses together and a clink grabbed the team’s attention; they looked at you with smiles at how happy you both were again.

The family was whole once again.

#agents of shield imagine #agents of s.h.i.e.l.d imagine #agents of shield x reader #daisy johnson x reader #daisy johnson imagine #sibling duty

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tttinytrash · 4 years

Text

Imma be real, the initial kernel of an idea came from a dream. Maybe it’s a weird mix of characters, in that Swap Pap is a normal skel and Fell Sans is a big mer. Whatever, I hope you enjoy anyways.

Papyrus (Or Stretch, as most called him) was ahead of you, casually walking toward the coast. You followed behind, curious to see what he’d wanted to show you. He was unsurprisingly cryptic about the whole thing and seemed happy to keep you in suspense. As he ambled along the unkempt path he was absently tossing a bone attack between his hands.

You path ended up being pretty winding, and he even had to shortcut you both over a few more treacherous bits of the route atop the seaside cliffs. Eventually, you did make it down to the water level to a mostly flat rock acting like a false stone dock with the waves lapping at the edges. The cliffs you’d just climbed down created a secluded cove.

Stretch hurled the bone attack he’d been fiddling with end over end out to sea. The magical construct hit the surface of the water a ways out and disappeared from sight.

After a long moment of silence you ask “This is a pretty cool spot, especially since it’s so private. I cant even see any of the beaches around here. Is this what you meant to show me?” You can’t help but feel this trip was a tad anticlimactic.

“nah. just gotta give him a sec.” The lanky skeleton answered, still looking out to sea.

“Give who...?”

“me.” a new voice cut in.

You whirled around to the voice, finding a large skeleton lounging in the water. You could only see his bare ribs from the base of his sternum up and his arms draped on a nearby rock, but you had to figure three or so Stretches stacked atop each other would be what it took for the two to see each other at eye level if they stood next to each other. And you only came up to around Stretch’s chest, so he seemed pretty huge to you.

His build reminded you instantly of Stretch’s brother Blue, except Blue distinctly lacked a tail. The new skeleton, on the other hand, had a red fish tail cresting through the water that clearly matched his red eyelights.

You belatedly realized you’d been gaping for a few seconds and finally managed a weak “Uh... hi.”

The two skeletons chuckled, and the large newcomer said “name’s red. nice ta meet‘cha. stretch was excited for this meetup.” He offered you two fingers held out, which seemed like a handshake gesture.

You took the offer up, finding your whole hand did wrap around his two fingers in a comfortable approximation of the typical handshake given the scale difference. Damn. He was huge. Regardless, you gave him your name and chuckled “I did pick up that he was excited to bring me here, but I had no idea I’d be making a new friend today.”

That earned you a genuine smile from Red.

Stretch finally cut in “so remember when i mentioned aus awhile back?”

All the new information immediately clicked into place, and you perked up. “Oh, so he’s an alternate Sans. Good to know I’m not skeleton racist for thinking of Blue the second I saw him.”

Both skeletons seemed to find great amusement in your assessment, and you felt victory in making a good first impression.

A good first impression turned into a fast friendship, and you and Stretch came back to the cove often to hang with Red. The cove offered a prime swim spot (Stretch had to wear floaties to join but didn’t seem to mind much) or on lazier days, you’d just stay on the rocky not-actually-a-dock and Red could perch on the nearby submerged rocks. Conversations easily flowed between you three, and even if they didn’t the silences were comfortable.

Today was one of those lazier days, your feet dangled into the water (Stretch had put your shoes into his inventory for safe keeping) and the lanky skeleton lazed lying flat on his back. Red floated belly up on the surface, talking about how the reef fish were out in force lately and that the little guys were pretty cute to watch flit about the coral.

“That sounds so gorgeous, and honestly I’m pretty jealous. I just get to see clogged traffic when I go out anywhere.” You chipped in.

“you wanna see it? i can show you guys if ya want.” Red offers casually.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Stretch no longer looks like he’s on the edge of sleep, sockets open and looking at Red in the water. The smaller skeleton had a more mild version of an “oh shit” expression going, much to your confusion.

“How? Do you have scuba gear on hand or something?” You asked of the mer.

“wha? nah, the hell else is this thing good for?” Red pointed at the part of his belly that poked up out of the water where he still floated lazily.

You felt like you were trying to put together two and two and coming up with five. You felt your face twist in utter confusion.

Your expression seemed to convey that, as Red reoriented in the water and grabbed the side of the stone “dock” you and Stretch were sat on. He seemed to find this whole thing hilarious for some reason, gaze flicking between your baffled face and Stretch’s embarrassed one as he asked “Stretch, have you not done it yet?”

Stretch looked put out and embarrassed, but played it off. “nah.”

“hah! first alternate and first to take em in.” Red was clearly enjoying this.

You turned to Stretch, hoping he might be able to enlighten you without all but giggling over it. “Take what in where?”

Stretch finally sat up, facing you. “taking someone in is a skeleton thing. basically, we can safely swallow people.”

You straightened up yourself, leaning away from the two before you.

Stretch made a “calm down” motion with his hands. “safely. for us it’s kinda an all-over hug. we just use our magic rather than our arms. our bodies can’t process physical matter attached to a soul.”

“in this case, i’d be the glass bottom boat for you two. obviously, i’ll bring you back and let you out after.” Red added, humor gone as soon as he’d seen you get nervous.

“I-I don’t know, guys. How can you be sure it’s safe?” you ask, gaze flitting between both of their faces.

“easy, we’ve been doing it as a species since forever.” Stretch said. “here, would it help if i went first?”

Clearly this is merely cultural clash, but your adrenaline-addled brain doesn’t want to accept this. Now you’re guilty on top of terrified, great. You do end up giving the two a reluctant nod. Maybe visual proof will help your heart stop pounding.

“alright. you sure you can fit us both, red?” Stretch asked as he stood up and approached the edge of the stone dock.

“yeah. you two will be close, but it’ll work.” Red said, propping his elbows on the rock on either side of the smaller skeleton and putting his hands behind the smaller monster’s torso, but not touching yet.

Then Red opened his mouth.

You felt your breath hitch as Stretch leaned down, bracing his hands on Red’s lower jaw. The mer gently ducked the smaller skeleton’s skull down, avoiding scraping his cranium on his upper teeth. Chest now laid atop a glowing red tongue, Stretch visibly went mostly limp, just keeping his legs raised. Red swallowed.

You breathed in sharply when that dragged Stretch’s head out of sight, but you forced yourself to relax when you saw Stretch giving you a thumbs up. Another gulp and most of the lanky skeleton’s torso was gone, Red supporting Stretch’s dangling legs with one hand. Red’s other hand was placed at his throat, where you could see distinct lumps in the red tubing that had manifested. A last swallow left you to watch in fixated horror as the lumps moved and slid out of sight. The tube was gone as soon as the bumps indicating Stretch inside slid down past Red’s clavicles, so you looked up to see Red’s reaction to the ordeal.

Red meanwhile sighed, and a hand disappeared below the surface of the water, possibly to touch his submerged belly. He looked calm, a stark contrast to yourself.

You trusted him, of course. But the adrenaline still rampant in your system was still begging you to run. Instead, you edged closer to the skeleton and asked shakily “Y-you both are ok?”

“yep. you wanna see him?” Red’s tone was surprisingly soft for him.

You nodded emphatically.

Red motioned for you to move, so you scooted back. This allowed him the room to haul himself up onto the rock. Surprisingly, he honestly didn’t look any different bulk wise than he did any of the other times you’d gotten a more full view of his body. The red membrane between his ribs and pelvis went transparent before your eyes, revealing a lounging Stretch.

“Stretch!” you called his name and scuttled forward, before realizing your overeagerness and backing off.

They both chuckled (you assumed, unable to hear Stretch but seeing his shoulders move), and the contained skeleton maneuvered until he was able to put a hand to the front wall and press out.

You put your own hand over where his metacarpals laid and pressed in. You found the opposing pressure was surprisingly grounding. You took this moment to take in the situation.

Stretch was utterly calm. He was looking at you with amusement, now that you weren’t so panicked. Red had made no move to stop your interaction through him, arms casually propping up his torso and tail lazily swinging in the water.

You felt the fear simply roll off you, its hold was gone from over you. You were being ridiculous, there was no way these guys would hurt you to begin with. Besides, they’d even said this was a skeletal tradition. You cycled a deep breath and saw the responding relief from both monsters.

You were good.

“feeling ok?” Red asked.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.” You smiled up at him.

“it’s your turn if you’re up for it, then.”

“Yeah, I’m up for it.”

Red’s smile could almost be described as proud, and Stretch gave you one last thumbs up before the red barrier between you two went opaque. You stepped back again, and Red took the opening to slide back into the water.

Red put his elbows up on the rock, arms open for you to approach. You stood and shuffled forward, seeing his hands loop behind you just like he’d done to Stretch.

“easiest way in is hands clasped over your head. think of it like diving position, actually. if you let yourself fall forward like a dive, i can catch ya and guide ya in. alright?” Red had that soft tone still, and you couldn’t help but think you liked that rare softer side of him.

“Ok, I trust you.” you nod resolutely, pressing your palms flat together.

“good. ok, just go ahead when you’re ready. no pressure.”

His maw opens before you, and you feel yourself waver. His tongue comes forward, folding over his bottom teeth as a cushion. You appreciate that.

You take the moment to look at what you’re getting into, and end up using the reflection of yourself in his gold tooth as your point of focus for the moment it takes to cycle another breath and regain your determination.

You close you eyes, and let go.

You instinctively tense at the sensation of falling of course, but Red’s fingers adeptly guide you into place. Your landing is squishy but that’s honestly the worst you can say.

You hands and arms up to the elbow have ended up squished into his throat already, which is a bizarre sensation you don’t get to contemplate too long before the first swallow drags your entire torso in to join your hands.

It’s tight for sure. But not crushing since the material around you is highly pliable. The warm tubing presses in around you with a wet sound and you feel the sunlight no longer on your legs. You sprawl into a more open space in moments, landing mildly hampered as you are reunited with the boney form of Stretch.

“heya, thanks for joining me.” he greets, amused.

You laugh “Hey yourself.”

You two are in quite the tangle, and you’re trying to extricate your limbs from Stretch’s without pushing too much against Red. After a moment Stretch takes pity on you and offers a simple “c’mere” before bundling you to his chest. Stretch’s finagling leaves you both in a quite comfortable position, but you are essentially in his lap, his sternum acting as your backrest.

You blush, but thank him as this was the optimal arrangement given the space available.

“you two done in there? everyone ok?” Red asks. His voice is all around you and sounds simultaneously very close and sort of muffled.

“All good, sorry for the squirming.”

“nah, it’s fine. expected it. no panic, yeah?”

“No panic.”

“just cuddles.” Stretch added, wrapping his arms around you.

You felt your face heat as Red laughed “hey, no canoodling in there.”

You groaned in mortification, leading the boys to outright laugh at you suffering. The laugher made the stomach around you move, which got you laughing too.

When the chuckling died down, Stretch released you and you took a look around. There was some folding in the bright red walls around you, and if you looked you could make out the shadows of his ribs moving as he breathed. The air was warm, but not stale. You also got the sensation of floating, but that was probably the water outside doing it rather than your current container.

You felt pressure on your side, and realized quickly that Red must be rubbing at you and Stretch, which pulled your lips into a fond smile.

Red’s voice brought your focus back to the original task, however. “alright, i’ll let you guys see and we can get going. reef aint that far.”

The wall on the same side Red’s hand had been went clear, and you gasped. The view was slightly red tinted, but so clear. The sunlight beaming through the water was gorgeous even on its own.

“alright, let’s scoot if ya don’t mind.” Stretch suggested, gesturing for you to rotate.

“Right.” you agree, and you two begin an awkward shuffle as Red sets off.

You’re not getting much traction on the slick walls, and can’t figure out how Stretch is doing it.

“you can push as much as you need, don’t worry. big guy loves squirming.” said skeleton advises.

“Really?” you ask.

“oh yeah, squirming, pushing, rubbing, all of it.” Stretch’s tone took on a healthy dose of teasing.

“shut up, stretch.” Red groused.

By now you’d managed to face forward and resettle into your comfy position, so you were free to focus on the brewing banter.

“what? you tellin’ me i’m wrong?” Stretch said, hands out and rubbing at the walls.

Red was pretty obviously suppressing purrs, and the glow in the material around you ramped up. It reminded you of how their cheekbones could take on color like a human blush, which caused you to laugh.

“you’re lucky y/n is in there with you or i’d be dumping you out.” Red threatened, pressing in firmly, squishing the two of you pretty thoroughly. Both you and stretch were giggling, happy little “nyeh heh”s coming from behind you.

“fine, i’m hands off.” Stretch finally managed.

“good. y/n, you can do whatever since this is all new for you. handsy, however, has to behave.” Red relented, going back to swimming and stopping the pushing in at you two.

You were in fact curious, so you reached out and lightly pressed at the walls. They were pliable to pressure, and your fingers sunk in. The surface was slick without being wet, somehow. Stretch started to play with your hair and you let him, just as Red didn’t complain about your exploration.

You were brought back to the present when Red called “we’re here.”

He settled on the ocean floor a bit off from the reef, which was indeed gorgeous and vivid. No fish, though.

“Where are all the fish?” You ask, confused.

“they got scared into hiding when i showed up, give em a minute to forget i’m here.” Red said.

He was right, and after a few minutes the fish seemed to materialize out of the nooks and crannies in the coral.

You three made quiet observations to each other, and eventually Red actually dozed off. Stretch didn’t last much longer, and you shook your head in resignation to the fact that you’d be here awhile. The barrier in front of you slowly shifted to be opaque again now that Red was no longer aware, but just before you totally lost sight of the outside world you saw Red fold his hands protectively over his belly. You smiled, what a dork.

Well, you may as well join these two dorks for a nap.

And that’s exactly what you did.

#undertail vore #undertail underswap vore #undertail underfell vore #safe vore #soft vore #platonic vore #extreme cuddling #willing vore

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roughentumble · 3 years

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I would like to hear.. your silence of the lambs series opinions......

series as in, the new clarice tv show that's out? haven't watched it yet. series as in, those old movies that feature anthony hopkins as hannibal lecter? surely!

fair warning, i probably dont have anything new to say that hasnt been said before, considering these are all long since classics, and my thoughts might be a little disjointed.

it's difficult to sum up opinions about it on the whole, since the movie quality honestly varies so wildly, and as i recall basically every single movie had a different director lol. also like, there's definitely a reason silence of the lambs stood out as The hannibal movie that got talked about and went into The Annals Of Film History n' all that. there's something about jodie foster's performance that's particularly electric(though that could be nostalgia talking, i suppose)

the opportunities she had, as an actress, to really show emotion on her face, like the claustrophobic close-ups we got were really intimate and interesting, added to the sense we were getting into her head. that HANNIBAL was getting into her head. i've already used the word intimate, but really, the long drawn out conversations/monologues between her and hannibal are just that-- intimate. you have to have stellar performances to pull off that much dialogue, and shots that intensely focused, where a face takes up so much of the screen. but it works! because hopkins and foster are fantastic actors, and jonathen demme is a good director.

there's a reason a lot of people didn't like the switch to julianne moore, and i would say it isnt entirely moore's fault. ridley scott, for one, is simply a different director with different ideas of shot composition, which changes how the character feels pretty drastically when the style so heavily informed your feelings for her. but also, in general, the film just kind of approaches clarice from a different angle, which is pretty bumpy territory to go into on the tail of switching your lead actress. not only is moore just really different from foster, but we've gone from this kind of invasive intimacy with hannibal probing her in confined spaces, to her being on the chase. in particular what sticks out to me is a chase sequence where she's trying to find hannibal in a crowded mall.(i think it was a mall?? its been a minute since i last watched the film haha) despite how the crowd might lead to a sense of claustrophobia, these are wide open shots with lots of spinning and movement, no time for introspective face journies. it's a chase in a totally different sense than before, and that i think is major difference in tone. which isn't to say it's a bad choice, or a loss, or that it's worse, just that it's fundamentally very different material that moore was given fo work with. of course her performance differed from fosters!

i still think jodie foster did it better, but some folks were too hard on julianne moore. if anything, hold beef with the writers and new director for pivoting tonally(although, dont do that either, i think it was an interesting shift. the scene with her and hannibal, where hannibal fries up that dude's brain was SO GOOD, i loved loved loved the return to a twisted sense of intimacy for that scene, and a few others, and that sense of return wouldn't have hit the same were the whole movie to follow the same tone as demme's work.)

also quick sidebar, when i watched hannibal(the movie from 2001) i was BLOWN AWAY by realizing, in retrospect, just how absolutely perfectly micheal pitt nailed the role of mason verger in hannibal(the tv show). vocally, he sounded almost identicle to the og performance, WHAT!!! major props, i love micheal pitt. so cool

manhunter 1987 or whatever year it came out is garbage and we dont talk about it. it was physically painful to watch. my poor mother made us stop watching hannibal movies for the rest of the day because it literally put her in physical pain. it's so 80s i want to vomit. do not recommend.

red dragon was pretty good, and if you entered the series of films armed only with knowledge of hannibal nbc, gave some really fascinating context to some of the events therein. edward norton's performance was fine-- didn't blow my mind, but i do love to watch him on screen. anthony hopkins' portrayal of a free hannibal, on the run, who still can't help but taunt the police and stick his nose into investigations was shockingly compelling, despite how much of a cliche trope that's become in recent years. can't say i recall anything interesting to say about the directing, but it certainly doesnt hold the same intimacy of the previous films-- but then again, we've lost the intimate character of clarice, swapping her out for graham(who simply isnt as close, or interesting, or compelling, when he isnt on nbc and shaking like a wet chihuahua)

hannibal rising, the last film in the series, was very very very bad. BUT, unlike manhunter 198whatever, it managed to be fun about it! lots of very goofy deaths and things to make you roll your eyes, stupid character motivations and odd acting choices. but it seems aware, on some level, that it's the last and the silliest of the entries into this particular film series, which earns it some good will. whether or not its worth a watch comes down to how much you're willing to consume everything with the name hannibal on it, and whether you can abide by a hannibal that isnt played by sir anthony hopkins.

OK. ok. we're getting to the end of my thoughts here, kids. i prommy.

it's also, despite every single part of it that i enjoy and that brings me joy, almost unforgivably racist and transphobic. the weird exotification and obsession with asia(and japan in particular), especially when none of those elements felt important or relevant to the story was consistently shocking, and consistently present in essentially every single hannibal movie, ESPECIALLY ones that dealt with his childhood. it didn't ever feel like a natural part of the story, where they happened include people from another culture or anything, it felt like the author's fetish. i never truly understood how these reoccuring themes and symbols were meant to tie in with the rest of the story, even after an entire film set in the past, showiing hannibal's childhood and how he came to live with a japanese woman. it was weird! it was uncomfortable! it was bad! even hannibal nbc couldnt make it not weird. i'd love a hannibal movie with a japanese person in it who WASNT treated really, really, really weird. but i dont think i will ever get that.

and like. wrt transphobia-- do i even need to say it? buffalo bill's been talked to death. we all know the issue there.

if a japanese person, or a trans woman, came to me and said "shawn, everyone says its a classic, but i cant bring myself to watch [insert hannibal movie here]" i would not blame them. it isnt the whole movie, but its enough to feel real bad, scoob.

its not enough to make me fall out of love with silence of the lambs, or hate hannibal(the film, god thats a confusing name), or even hate the film series, but its something that deserves tl be talked about. i've heard lots of discussion on the transphobia, but basically none on the racism, which is a real shame. sometimes it feels like no one else even noticed it, and it really leaves me floundering, because its like-- its RIGHT THERE and its so weird and bad. thomas harris, what the fuck

OKAY I THINK THATS ALL MY THOUGHTS FOR NOW?????? i could maybe come up with more, *shrugs*, but i'd need more time at least.

summary:: very problematic, and not because he eats people. but overall some of the films are fantastic, and silence of the lambs does hold a special place in my heart. and even if i didnt like it nearly as much, i'll defend hannibal(the film with julianne moore) till im blue in the face, because even if it didnt quite capture lightening in a bottle it still brought some interesting things to the table. decent enough movie series with enough variation in film tone and quality to make watching them all in a row enjoyable, because it keeps things from getting stale. (could probably have done with SOME consistency tho, lol, they were really flying by the seat of their pants. they had hopkins and that was IT, only thing that carried over from production to production lol)

#im exaggerating wrt that last line abt hopkins #they couldve had other people in the staff that worked on multiple films in the series #i havent looked THAT much into it

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ijaws · 5 years

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@transdonnatroy

Seeing as how you blocked me, I'll answer what I can remember here. Maybe you'll see this, maybe not, but here goes. (If anyone else wants to weigh in or discuss this, jump right in.)

The reason why I said that you'd be racist for being agaisnt Whitewashing is rather simple. You're discriminating against an actor/actress based on their skin color. That's the definition of racist. That's what YOU were accusing me of when I was against POCs taking traditional, established, characters. Hiemdall, Domino, and Valkyrie to name a few. So if I'm racist for not wanting POC-washing to happen, then how are you not racist for being against Whitewashing?

I know your arguments already so I'll make them for you.

"Whitewashing is used as a tool for oppression and racism. Essentially robbing POCs from any roles they could possibly have and filling them with White Actors. That is wrong."

I completely, 100%, agree that it is wrong. However, you cannot have it both ways. You cannot sit there and cry racism and oppression over Whitewashing then go on to celebrate POCwashing. That is literally a double standard.

"Well when a POC takes a White Role it's okay because a lot of the time a White Character's story doesn't have much to do with their skin color. It also allows for positive representation in the media so other POCs can see people that look like them that they can relate to on the big screen."

That's wrong. All of it is wrong. If you apply that logic, the logic that their skin color doesn't really matter since they're white, then that means that White People could take POC roles if their story doesn't revolve around their skin color. John Stewart (Black Green Lantern), Cyborg, Sam Wilson (Falcon/Captain America), Nick Fury, Jessica Cruz (Latina Green Lantern.), etc. None of those characters have a story that revolves around their skin color. Theh just happen to be Black or other. That means it should be PERFECTLY acceptable to race swap them.

"NO! THAT'S WHITEWASHING AND STEALING THEIR REPRESENTATION-"

Oooh I see... So... why don't Marvel, Disney, and other Media Companies, I dunno, MAKE NEW ORIGINAL POC CHARACTERS? If you want TRUE fucking representation in these movies?????? I don't think POCwashing is helping.

You know what... I actually think it's insulting to POCs. Why?

Well essentially Marvel, Disney, and Hollywood are simply giving POCs handouts. 2nd hand characters. Simply race changing a role to get the minorities all across the world to suck their dick and sing their praises. Meanwhile Marvel, Disney, and Hollywood are all laughing at minorities behind the scenes. I imagine it goes like this.

"Omg, can you believe it! We don't even have to lift a finger! We don't even need to make New Original POC Characters! Just toss them a White Character and cast a Black Actor and they'll pay! They ACTUALLY think we care!!! Hahaha Being woke is SOOO fucking easy. Can you imagine if we HAD to make oroginal POC characters with original stories about them? I know, right? What a hassle..."

It's honestly like they're telling POCs that they aren't worth the risk. They aren't worth risking money to tell a new story with a new character. That all they'll EVER get is hand me down roles. 2nd rate characters. Nothing that is their own.

This can be said about Valkyrie, Hiemdall, Ariel, Domino, and MAAAAAANY more.

Don't you want to see more ORIGINAL POC Characters???

Where's Brother Voodoo, Statick Shock, John Stewart, Bishop, SILK (Asian Sipder Girl), Psyche (Native American woman who joined the X-Men), Robbie Reyes (A Ghost Rider) etc.?

Why not INVENT new Original POC characters that were never white and were never hand-me-down roles? They'd have their own original stories, powers, and have their own identity. They wouldn't have to ride the coat tails of a White Character's Legacy.

Okay, so that's all I got... Before someone actually calls me racist again I want to say that I'm a source material person. If a character is created a specific way they should stay that way. If they're made as a White Person, they STAY White. If they're made as a Black Person, they STAY Black. If they're made as a man, they STAY a man. If they're made as a woman, they STAY a woman. If they're made as gay, Bi, or whatever, they STAY gay, Bi, or whatever... I don't support gender, race, or sexuality swapping of any kind. If you want representation, do it the proper way and create NEW original characters. Don't approapriate a character that doesn't reflect your people and try to change them around to where it does... That's called cultural appropriation people...

One last thing. You don't solve cultural appropriation with more culturual appropriation You don't solve racism with more racism. You don't solve sexism with more sexism. You don't solve sexual discrimination with more sexual discrimination.

That's the bottom line.

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startyourfuturerp · 5 years

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what's your stance on fc changes?

Hi nons! Thank you so much for the ask!

I’ve touched on this a few times before, but I don’t know if I’ve ever responded to it in a general way, so here goes:

My stance on FC changes is ‘generally no, unless there’s a really good reason’. ‘Really good’, in this context, means either they’ve committed a terrible, unforgivable crime against another person or group of people (ie the actor spouting racist/sexist/-ist slurs or opinions, or…well, you know the example for abuse and Glee actors, so I won’t even go there). The only exception to these two rules would be if the person in question, while a canon face on Glee, has no/extremely limited resources - and that I, personally, on my end can see that, because if I can’t, I’d be more than happy to provide you with the resources I do have!

If there were such a case where changing a face was the only option, I do have some criteria for the swap-in:

The faceclaim must match the character’s ‘vibe’. I understand this is very subjective, but generally, if the face doesn’t have gifs/photos/etc that are similar in style to the character’s canonical personality, energy and style in Glee, I personally will have trouble connecting the face to the ‘voice’ of the character.

The faceclaim must match the original faceclaim’s race/ethnicity. While it may not be a perfect match (especially if the person is like, 27% this and 14% that and 59% this other one), it should be as close as you can find, keeping in mind the ‘vibe’. It may be an unpopular opinion, but personally, if someone is using a face whose ethnicity is perfectly aligned with the original face but their resources are the polar opposite, it’s probably not going to work with the character you’re trying to write, which is why I suggest as close as you can make it.

The exception being: If there is an opportunity, from the reasons above, to make this cast more diverse, take it. If, to give a very unlikely example (using a character that I get so upset over when people change his fc), Billy Lewis Jr. wakes up tomorrow and starts being a terrible person instead of the hippie dippie rock n roll idiot he is, you would not be required to find a white, Irish, black-haired, blue-eyed six-foot-tall dummy with hearteyes for days to portray Mason McCarthy; you could, instead, take the opportunity to use someone like Keiynan Lonsdale, who has the heart-eyes-for-days thing, resources, and the added bonus of being a man of color - which, then of course, you would be expected to hold in respect and build from in game. (This example is maybe a bad one, because essentially by default that would require a change to Madison McCarthy’s face too, but…[dramatic voice] oh, no, more women of color, anything but that…)

This is weighed with much less import than the other two, but there are some faceclaims that I, personally, have either had bad experiences with, or don’t like, or feel are overused, or whatever. While it’s not a dealbreaker, if that’s the faceclaim you’re married to, as long as it doesn’t cross with the other standards for FCs, I’ll…basically get over myself, because at the end of the day, I want you to be able to play the character you want, the way you imagine them in your head.

My only other little note about faceclaim switching is that, if you’re applying for a character with a non-canon face due to one of the reasons above, I will be taking a much closer look at your in-character replies to the application starters, as well as the history, to make sure that the character’s voice comes through, because that’s really the most important part. I’ve been in games where all the FCs were swapped and the writing was so strong that it not only didn’t detract from the story, but added to it. So please - if you have to swap your character’s face, make sure they are still the Glee character you’re applying for, because the biggest, most important, all-defining rule I have about faceclaim changes is:

THIS IS A GLEE GAME, OPEN TO NAMED, CANON GLEE CHARACTERS.

If you’re looking to play a sibling, or an oc, or even a particular face, that is not a canon character, you may be better off finding a different game, but I’m always willing to listen if someone feels like a certain FC would be better suited for a given character.

I know this is a bit of a text wall, I just wanted to answer the question as clearly and as in-depth as possible to help you and anyone else who may have the same question.

Thanks again for the ask!

#glee rp #glee au rp #glee college rp #glee roleplay #glee rpg #syf!answered #syf!fc policy #Anonymous

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ralfstrashcan · 5 years

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Possible Origins of Magnus's Warlock Mark Insecurities

I've read it countless times in fics that Magnus is super insecure about his cat eyes. After some prodding he will admit that it's because other people (most likely past lovers) have told him they are ugly and/or because he himself thinks they are ugly. Don't get me wrong, I have a soft spot for that trope because it always ends with Alec saying cute romantic loving things to Magnus and Magnus deserves all the cute romantic loving things, but....... I've always found it hard to believe. Here's why.

First off, I think it's important to point out that in the books (as far as I know) Magnus never uses a glamor and has his cat eyes on display all the time. So why the glamor on the show and in the movie? Possibly for the intended dramatic effect whenever he reveals them or (what I personally think more likely) to save some CGI-budget for demons and explosions and stuff. Either way, the outcome is the same: Magnus covers his cat eyes with a glamor most of the time and reveals them only on a few special occasions. From now I'll focus on Show!Magnus because I know the show way better than the movie and I want to characterize Show!Magnus. Some observations may be true for Movie!Magnus too, but he's not the point in this.

1) Magnus is not only a downworlder but also a person of color, so I think it's safe to say he has faced his fair share of discrimination from people of the Shadow World (I'm looking at you, shadowhunters) and the Mundane World alike over the course of his long life. And he really doesn't seem to be the kind of person to be fazed by that. He's the kind of person to stand up for himself, to laugh a narrow-minded racist in the face and beat them at their own game. So I don't find it too convincing that someone telling him something negative about his cat eyes would upset him too much. Of course it's different from being discriminated against for his warlock-dom or his poc-dom because while there are fellow warlocks and fellow people of color there is no one with the same eyes as him, so being insulted for something that's part of him as an individual and that nobody else has is far more personal. It stings. A lot. But still. I can't really see other people's opinions about his eyes influencing his own opinion to that extent when he's used to tuning out insults and the like.

2) It seems kind of dumb, but why would anybody tell him his warlock mark is ugly? I mean, if an enemy insulted it, Magnus wouldn't even take it seriously. So the insult must come from someone close to Magnus for it to even possibly have any impact.

Okay, so which one of Magnus's friends could insult his warlock mark?

--- Warlocks: I can't really imagine a fellow warlock friend insulting his warlock mark, because, seriously. Who does that.

--- Other downworlders: I also find it unlikely that a fellow downworlder friend would do it. Downworlders share a history of being oppressed by shadowhunters (openly before the Accords, more subtle after the Accords, but if I remember correctly the Accords are like 200 years old? That would only be half (or quarter or whatever) of Magnus's life) and that creates common ground. Some sense of companionship. Sure, vampires and werewolves still hate each other, but we were looking at Magnus's friends. I find it hard to believe that any downworlder would insult the mark of a warlock friend.

--- Mundanes: It's a little hazy on the show if/how mundanes know about the Shadow World, there are some scenes in 2B that imply a few mundanes at least hang out with vampires, to feed and stuff? So they probably also know about all the other downworlders? Even though I thought the Clave was very insistent on mundanes not being in the know, then again who cares what the Clave wants? The downworlders certainly don't. Anyway, assuming Magnus really does interact with mundanes on a friendly basis (probably selling them potions and stuff) and reveals his warlock mark to them... I still find it unlikely that they would call it ugly since a) he'd likely only show it to a mundane he has some trust in and b) if the mundane wants something from him like a potion they would be pretty stupid to insult him. I could be persuaded that they are afraid of it. But being afraid and being disgusted is not the same thing, so there's that, and also I think a mundane happily meddling in the Shadow World should have better nerves than to freak out over some harmless cat eyes.

--- Ex-lovers: If an (ex-)lover really told Magnus that his eyes are ugly and he should keep them covered because they're disgusting, well, that sounds to me like extreme insensitivity at best, emotional abuse at worst. Also I think a person that says something like this doesn't act kind and gentle in every other aspect of their life, but is probably really rude and insensitive half the time anyway. Meaning after that relationship ends Magnus would, with time, see that that opinion shouldn't influence him because it came from a bad place and he wouldn't attach much importance to hurtful things that person might have said about his eyes. (.........yes I'm basically talking about Camille here lol.)

And of course there is that whole thing that I don't understand what anybody could find ugly about his cat eyes because, let's face it, they're sexy as hell!!!

............ugh, I'm man enough do admit that this really is no rational argument </3

Okay, but what now? If nobody close to Magnus really has a reason to insult him or Magnus has no reason to take a received insult seriously? It's kinda undeniable that Magnus has some kind of issue with his eyes, right? Just remember that bit in 2x18 that was actually from 2x07 during the infamous First Time Scene, where Magnus didn't even want to face Alec after his glamor dropped. And of course he described it as 'losing control' so he admitted to deliberately hiding his cat eyes.

Then there's this whole issue with Valentine and Magnus swapping bodies. Even though Valentine claimed he didn't have any control over Magnus's magic at the beginning, the glamor stayed up. Okay, that's probably because if Magnus had suddenly started walking around without his glamor after the failed summoning everyone would have been suspicious in two seconds flat, but just because there's a Plot Reason for something doesn't mean it can be ignored.

To me, it means that the glamor Magnus uses on his eyes is not something he actively maintains, but something that is firmly in place and that he needs to actively remove if he wants it gone.

How does that really fit together with Magnus saying he 'lost control' which made the glamor slip, implying he has to sustain the glamor? I don't know. Maybe he meant it in that way that his magic went haywire (= he lost control) and it dislodged the glamor... or maybe the show just contradicts itself in this, insinuating things in both directions. Which.... wouldn't be all that surprising, honestly.

One way or another, the fact remains that Magnus doesn't want his eyes on display all the time. To get behind a potential reason for Magnus's issues, look at this:

On what occasions does Magnus intentionally let his glamor fall?

1x01 Flashback: Answering the door (for Jocelyn, a shadowhunter) 1x01 Flashback: Performing the spell to take Clary's memories 1x01 Threatening a Circle member at the Pandemonium 1x04 During a fight with a Circle member at his loft 2x01 Practicing magic on the balcony (though he hides them as soon as Alec approaches, long before turning around) [Not counting 2x07 while macking with Alec because that wasn't intentional.] 2x08 Showing them to Max* 2x10 Showing them to Madzie [Not counting 3x02 because Magnus says his magic was useless and so his glamor disappeared unintentionally.] 3x08 During the Connection-to-visit-Jace's-Subconsciousness-Spell

*Taking a look at Magnus revealing his eyes to Max

it's obvious how uncomfortable he is: His smile disappears and he clenches his teeth. (Gif Source: pinterest.de/pin/556405728951646689)

So, besides revealing his eyes for the sole purpose of showing them to someone we have two situations:

i) While practicing magic. To be honest I'm not too sure if he really does that intentionally then or if it's just a byproduct of using his magic, but there's no way to know that. It is noteworthy though that he often practices (very poweful) magic without dropping his glamor, so him dropping the glamor doesn't seem to correlate with the severety of the spell he's casting. For example his glamor stays up while summoning a memory demon (1x04) and even a greater demon (2x11) or when fighting both Iris (2x08) and Lorenzo (3x09). I find it hard to believe that all these tasks were easier than a simple memory spell (1x01) or the dream-connection-thingy (3x08), so I think it’s reasonably justified to claim that he does it intentionally then. Coincidentally, those are occasions where shadowhunters (Jocelyn / the Lightwoods) are present while he performs the magic, but it is also noteworthy that in these instances his eyes aren't directed at a person but focused on the task at hand.

ii) During a fight with shadowhunters. I think it's pretty obvious that Magnus uses his cat eyes then as a means of intimidation, as a threat, a warning sign for others that he is dangerous. Not to be underestimated. Deadly.

Why? There are two possible explanations:

a) Because they are his warlock mark, highlighting the fact that he is a warlock with magic and he can kick ass with his magic. → It's not the eyes themselves, they act as a symbol for his warlock-dom.

or b) Because his eyes by themselves are a frightening sight. → It's the eyes themselves.

Either way Magnus himself thinks his eyes represent – directly or indirectly – danger and should be feared.

Why is that?

Well. You mostly believe something to be dangerous when you either know that it holds a certain destructive power or you know from experience that it has caused damage in the past. Since the cat eyes themselves hold no power I think it's safe to go with option two: Magnus has experienced the extreme and grave damage his eyes can do to someone. They were the reason, the trigger for his mother to kill herself. The reason his childhood found a violent and rather traumatic end, the reason he became an orphan and lost everything he had known up to this point.

In my opinion Magnus associates his eyes and what they mean to him with this event, because it was the first reaction, the imminent fallout of his eyes revealing themselves. That's why he thinks they are a means to strike fear in the hearts of his enemies and that is why he covers them, because they are a constant reminder of what happened to his mother. I don't think he himself finds them pretty or ugly, they are a part of him like everything else, but they are the part of him that broke his family and that's why he can't stand the sight of them.

Edit: Now, after 3A aired (since I wrote this whole thing before that) there is another, pretty straightforward explanation: They are the one thing he has in common with Asmodeus and they are a constant reminder of their time together which, on his own admission, made his skin crawl. To him, they are a symbol of his weakest moment, when he trusted the wrong person easily and let himself be shaped into something cruel and twisted. Those memories are shameful, and his eyes are evidence that once upon a time his wish to not be alone anymore and to mean something to someone managed to outweight his conscience. His eyes are living proof of the darkness within him, a darkness that would make him do unspeakable things, and so they represent the deadly force that is his power if he unleashed it.

In my personal head canon, when Alec inevitably says something cute romantic loving about Magnus's eyes, it doesn't magically heal his issues with them. But I think it soothes a part of Magnus, the knowledge that something that is so terrible for one person can be something beautiful for another, and with time I think he can accept that his eyes themselves are nothing inherently destructive and bad. I believe he would let himself be coaxed to lower is glamor occasionally, if Alec asks; but I don't think that he'd ever walk around casually without a glamor, not even at home when he's alone with (or without) Alec. That is a little sad, but I don't think you have to erase every issue you have in your life to be able to be truly happy.

#shadowhunters #some episodes #magnus bane #alec lightwood #malec #magnus bane's cat eyes #meta

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longsightmyth · 5 years

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Myth Reads the Naming, Chapter 21

PELLINOR

The chapter is called Council of Friends and I for one could use some more friendship is magic stuff in my life, bring it on.

Maerad has a nightmare and a voice speaks in something that is almost the Speech but fucked up. It says, “I am again, but none shall find my dwelling, for I live in every human heart.”

I just wanted friendship, book. You promised me friendship.

She wakes up and reassures herself, and then Hem knocks on her door having also had nightmares. They huddle together and fall back to sleep.

Maerad wakes up to a beautiful morning and Hem, eating bread in a corner. He’s been waiting for her to wake up. She asks how Cadvan is and Hem doesn’t seem to care much (which, fair) but says he’s probably still sleeping and Maerad should hurry up because there is food (I appreciate a lot about this interaction. If I forget to mention it in the comparison please bug me so I can talk about it in a reblog or something). Maerad kicks him out to get dressed and then they walk down to get lunch together.

When they get to the sitting room, Cadvan is awake and chatting with Saliman. Cadvan is the worse for wear still but he’s talking and awake and teasing Maerad a little bit, and Maerad almost cries with how happy she is that he’s alive, black eye and stitched up face cuts and all. He assures her when she asks that he feels great and sends her off to the food.

Appetite sated (Hem comes with her for seconds) the siblings return to Cadvan and Saliman, who are discussing Saliman’s journey. Turns out Saliman was attacked by three hulls and killed them, but not before they killed his horse. He’s pretty sad about it and so am I: horse death is sad. The horses are just doing their best okay.

Anyway, Nelac comes in while Maerad is looking out at the gardens and says that most of his flowers survived the storm. Maerad immediately likes him, not least because he fixed up Cadvan and reminds her of Cadvan.

Hem continues to eat as the adult bards convene and catch each other up on everything, and when they get to the part about the Kulag Cadvan admits he was in a hurry and not as careful as he should have been with magic or travel. He credits Maerad with getting them all out alive.

“I wondered…,” said Maerad, and then stopped.

“What, O my Deliverer?” said Cadvan.

Maerad blushed again at his teasing. “I wondered if the Landrost had hurt you, and that was why…” she faltered and stopped again.

“The Landrost did indeed hurt me,” said Cadvan. “And I was less in my power than I could be. But that is no excuse for rushed decisions and the mistakes that come with them. I judge myself at fault, and so I am; and it is a severe judgment, Maerad, because things very nearly were otherwise, and the result would have been terrible for many more than us.”

Maerad saw for an instant an implacable harshness in Cadvan’s face, and she shivered; she thought she would not like to be judged by Cadvan, had she done any real wrong.

They continue to catch up, and Nelac remembers hearing about the Treesong somewhere but he’ll have to look for it again, but Saliman Knows What’s Up and sings a verse from the poem at the beginning of chapter 17, which I will transcribe here so nobody has to search the hellscape that is my tumblr tags:

Grows a Lily on the Briar

Grows a Briar on the Wave

Triple-tongued its voice of Fire

Edil-Amarandh with save

True and false the cunning Flame

Burning in the darkest Night

False and true the secret Name

Quickened in the womb of Light

Where the Briar on the Foam?

Doth the Lily stemless stand?

Who will bring the Singing home?

Where the Harp? And whose the Hand?

Nelac is like ‘lol it almost sounds like you’re saying Maerad, who can speak common, Elidhu, and the Speech, is the Foretold’

Cadvan’s ACTUAL (specified as distracted and absent) RESPONSE: “Yes, yes, of course I am.”

Maybe warn a guy before you drop prophetic bombs in his lap, Cadvan.

Nelac thinks about it a minute and sorta soul searches Maerad with eye contact is like ‘okay fine you may have a point’. Also the Treesong is a super ancient song, he remembers.

Nelac ALSO wants to scry Hem. Hem is not having it rn and runs into the garde. Maerad chastises Nelac with all the vehemence of a sibling vs outsiders and heads after her brother. After assuring Hem that SHE believes him, obviously, and that Cadvan does, he agrees to come back inside, where Nelac straight up bribes him with food to be scried later. Hem is like ‘well if there’s FOOD’ and agrees, which, fair.

Further, Nelac says they have to figure out where Hem can go to bard school because Norloch is being Particularly Racist at the moment and Hem, unlike Maerad, looks very Pilanel. Cadvan says irritably that Hem would like other schools better anyway, fuck Norloch (okay not in quite those words but it’s close).

Saliman: hey no worries I’ll take the kid home with me where racist dickheads aren’t in charge. Sound good, Hem?

Hem: Boy does it!

Section paraphrased for clarity.

Also, Nelac adds, y’all haven’t been here in a while so let me tell you what else Enkir has fucked up: no more lady bards can train at Norloch.

The fuck, everyone in the room basically mouths in unison.

Nelac: so the flaw in our system is, if all of our elected officials are old white rich white dudes with The Right Families then it turns out they elect an old rich white dude with The Right Family as leader, which means even the relatively benevolent old rich white dudes get outvoted when it comes to civil rights and not destroying the world because these guys have no concept of doing anything for other people even in the name of self interest.

Not that we know anything about that in the States or anything.

Everybody agrees that a council must be called regarding world saving because they still labor under the delusion that old rich white dudes with The Right Families in power give a shit what happens to the world if it doesn’t affect them in the next five minutes. The poor saps.

Cadvan shows Maerad around Norloch and assures her once again that even if she isn’t the foretold it’s no biggie, he’ll take her to a good bard school.

“Would you stay there?” she asked, knowing the answer already.

He glanced at her quickly, his face unreadable. “For a time, until you were settled in,” he said.

When they get back, Hem wants Maerad there while he’s scried. Nelac says it’s unusual, but so is scrying a child so why not. There isn’t much to see since we aren’t in Hem’s PoV, but Nelac confirms that Hem is Maerad’s brother and everybody rejoices. Maerad offers to get them something to drink, does so, and leaves, feeling like she intruded.

At dinner, which Hem actually skips, they make a game plan for presenting Maerad-as-The-Foretold to the council. Nelac is going to do it alone for political reasons. That’s the end of the chapter.

THRONE OF GLASS

Three chapters of ToG is a fitting punishment for taking so long I guess. 46,47,48.

Dorian is hunting through the woods to ‘let the freezing air rush through him’ and burn off steam regarding Celaena, who apparently watches him like a cat watching a mouse, which is different from every single other woman ever, who otherwise look at him adoringly.

Dorian, I would think Kaltain fits that description. I’m just saying.

Apparently Celaena makes him want to be a better king or whatever by watching him and he’ll never be happy with any other woman now that he’s kissed her and he’s worried about her in the duel. Sure.

CELAENA’S POV.

She’s thinking about the duel, worries that Cain might be better because he has stamina (I mean this is a valid concern: Celaena can’t seem to do any sort of strenuous physical activity without throwing up, her stamina IS crap) and then that she might have to obey the King of Adarlan if she’s his Champion.

I’m not sure what you thought you were signing up for, Celaena?

Then she decides she wants to stay in the castle because Hot Dudes, I guess.

NEXT CHAPTER.

Kaltain drugs Celaena’s goblet(?) in the outside duel.

Swap to Celaena’s PoV, where she complains about the cold and thinks that she doesn’t know why they have to have the duels outside. Me neither, Celaena. Me neither.

She recognizes a couple of council members who hired her in the past, and then Nehemia shows up. For reasons?

Anyway, the king makes a speech, the duels start, Cain wins his. Celaena thinks that the other guys hadn’t even lasted three minutes, which, I mean. People generally greatly overestimate how long fights take, especially fights that aren’t specifically hemmed in for competition. Three minutes is a long time to fight one on one for your life?

Oh wait they aren’t fighting to the death. That would be too men for the demon infested king? I don’t know.

Chaol offers Celaena his sword to fight with, and Nehemia offers her Nehemia’s staff instead.

“If I may,” Nehemia said in Eyllwe, “I’d like to offer this to you instead.” The princess held out her beautifully carved iron-tipped staff. Celaena glanced between Chaol’s sword and her friend’s weapon. The sword, obviously, was the wiser choice—and for Chaol to offer his own weapon made her feel strangely lightheaded—but the staff…

Nehemia leaned in to whisper in Celaena’s ear. “Let it be with an Eyllwe weapon that you take them down.” Her voice hitched. “Let wood from the forests of Eyllwe defeat steel from Adarlan. Let the King’s Champion be someone who understands how the innocents suffer.”

So Celaena chooses the staff, which is actually a GREAT weapon vs a sword assuming you know how to use it for a myriad of reasons? Why would a sword be a wiser choice? Why is that obvious? Especially if it’s ‘iron-tipped’ by which I think she means capped, but whatever. We already knew very little research went into this, I’m lucky Celaena isn’t using that soap and hairpin thing.

She’s going to fight Grave. Don’t worry about it, we’ll get an explanation about him in the second book when he suddenly becomes relevant again.

Chaol squeezed her hand, his skin warm in the frigid air. “Give him hell,” he said. Grave entered the ring and drew his sword.

Pulling her hand from Chaol’s, Celaena straightened her spine as she stepped into the ring. She quickly bowed to the king, then to her opponent.

She met Grave’s stare and smiled as she bent her knees, holding the staff in two hands.

You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into, little man.

NEXT CHAPTER.

Grave’s first move is to try to break her staff. I. I’m just. Whatever at this point.

His sword gets stuck in her staff when he hits, and she punches him in the nose. He gets angry and charges, “aiming a direct blow to her heart.” She knocks his legs out from underneath him and puts the staff to his throat, which ends the fight I guess, though he doesn’t yield and isn’t injured aside from a broken nose.

She brought her mouth close to his ear. “My name is Celaena Sardothien,” she whispered. “But it makes no difference if my name’s Celaena or Lillian or Bitch, because I’d still beat you, no matter what you call me.” She smiled at him as she stood. He just stared up at her, his bloody nose leaking down the side of his cheek. She took the handkerchief from her pocket and dropped it on his chest. “You can keep that,” she said before she walked off the veranda.

She intercepted Chaol as soon as she crossed the line of chalk. “How long did that take?” she asked. She found Nehemia beaming at her, and Celaena lifted her staff a little in salute.

“Two minutes.”

She grinned at the captain. She was hardly winded. “Better than Cain’s time.”

How slowly are these people moving? Why are we counting time? What is HAPPENING.

Anyway they have a toast.

“Out of good faith, and honor to the Great Goddess,” Kaltain said in a dramatic voice. Celaena wanted to punch her. “May it be your offering to the Mother who bore us all. Drink, and let Her bless you, and replenish your strength.”

I want that all noted for the record on the religion front.

Celaena is thrown directly into fighting Cain without any more of a rest and does not realize she’s been drugged.

The conqueror of Erilea raised his hands.

“Begin!” he roared, and Celaena shook her head, trying to clear her blurry vision. She steadied herself, wielding the staff like a sword as Cain began circling. Nausea flashed through her as his muscles flexed. For some reason, the world was still hazy. She clenched her teeth, blinking. She’d use his strength against him.

Cain charged faster than she anticipated. She caught his sword on the broad side with the staff, avoiding the sharp edges, and leapt back as she heard the wood groan.

He struck so quickly that she had to concede to the edge of his blade. It sank deep into the staff. Her arms ached from the impact. Before she could recover, Cain yanked his sword from her weapon and surged toward her. She could only bound back, deflecting the blow with the iron tip of the staff.

Given that Celaena is a, an assassin, b, just had a refresher course on poisons, and c, has been poisoned like this at least once before in the prequel novellas, I don’t know what to tell anybody here. Finally she gets it when she hears Kaltain laugh.

She had difficulty holding the staff. Cain came at her, and she had no choice but to meet his blows, barely having the strength to raise the weapon each time. How much bloodbane had they given her? The staff cracked, splintered, and groaned.

Did Nehemia give her a wimpy-ass staff or does Celaena just not know how to use it to deflect rather than just take the full force of a blade? His sword sinks into it, it splinters and cracks? Y’all. No.

She had to end this now, before the hallucinations started. She knew they’d be powerful: seers had once used bloodbane as a drug to view spirits from other worlds. Celaena shot forward with a sweep of the staff. Wood slammed into steel.

The staff snapped in two.

The iron-tipped head soared to the other side of the veranda, leaving Celaena with a piece of useless wood.

Y’all. Y’ALL. You don’t even know how much I’m despairing right now.

Anyway, we go through Dorian and Chaol’s PoVs in quick succession to show that they’re worried about her and are probably in love, because sure, that’s what’s important right now, why not.

Celaena starts seeing creatures from another world as Cain keeps beating her up and Chaol keeps telling her to get up. Apparently the eye of Elena actually was protecting her, because…

Cain reached for her throat, and she flung herself backward. All that he managed to grab was her amulet. With a resounding snap, the Eye of Elena ripped from her neck.

The sunlight disappeared, the bloodbane seizing control of her mind again, and Celaena found herself before an army of the dead. The shadowy figure that was Cain raised his arm, dropping the amulet upon the ground.

They came for her.

That’s the end of the chapter. Thank goodness.

COMPARISON

Say it with me: I despair.

These chapters are pretty different from each other, but I said I wanted to talk about Hem and food and I do.

Both Hem and Maerad have been deprived all their lives, and while Maerad is slightly less preoccupied with filling her stomach than Hem, she also does not in my memory refuse food when it is offered, and only ever delights in the fact that she has it. Hem, obviously, is a little more fixated, but Maerad usually got ENOUGH to eat by virtue of her musical talent and value and the whole superstition thing. Hem rarely did.

Celaena turns her nose up at salmon and complains when chicken is a little bit dry. It’s just not behavior I would expect from someone starved in a salt mine for a year.

Pellinor’s mythology and religion and society remains consistent. ToG’s still rolling with the one goddess lots of little gods thing for now.

I’m just glad that Celaena used an actual weapon (poorly) and didn’t try to get creative. God knows what she would have done with a blade of grass or something. Why are we timing our fights. How was Chaol watching the clock closely enough to know that AND watching the fight. This could all have been solved with some research.

STATS

Pages: 23

Fragments: 36

Em-Dashes: 50

Ellipses: 14

Pages: 22

Fragments: 6

Em-Dashes: 2

Ellipses: 13

#myth reads the books of Pellinor #myth reads the naming #myth rags on throne of glass #myth talks

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lunar-fey · 2 years

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dream below the cut long and rambling

had a dream that like.... i went back to university after leaving my roommate a few months ago, but it was like. a fucked up magic university

physically only people capable of magic could enter (and even then if you werent skilled enough and stayed in one spot too long the building itself would try to kill you (after giving a warning that if you dont move it will kill you))

and like . i started out as like something is KINDA off here but whatever. im GONNA learn. actually more specifically (and this is rarely my goal in stuff like this so ig thats why i forgot) i wanted to become strong enough to take over the school. like not by force but by proving Im The Best At Magic Ever

JUST remembered something else also. okay so like one of the reasons i was pretty sure Something Was Up Here, was related to how i found the school. by accident actually. i was just dicking around looking for somewhere to go when i suddenly started feeling. really wrong. like dizzy and nauseous and it got worse as i kept going. felt like there was a weight on my chest and i couldnt breathe, and finally i straight up started seeing wicked tracers and like. pretty much chromatic abberation and shit.

just before i passed out myself and someone else (who looked like my ex but was an infinitely kinder version) realized there was like. a nuclear reactor having a meltdown in the cave we were exploring, and together we used magic to like. Seal In the radiation so we could devise a temporary fix. now i do not think this is how that works irl, but in my dream at least, basically we would keep having to come back, seal in the radiation (we did not have rad suits until later, but even when we did it was impossible to get within fixing distance of the machine without the magic) and then like. swapping out nuclear rods of some sort out for new ones and then wed have to hold the magic for 30 seconds and THEN it would be safe (ish) to be around tho we also had to dispose of the old rods properly. at least not as bad as the first time.

and these caves and this generator were BELOW the school. the people in the school were mostly fine, ppl complained of headaches often but. it was mostly fine.

now teeechnically since id wandered into the campus thru the basement, i was not exactly an Official Student so i had to be careful. still i needed to look like a student so i attended classes. so actually i had TWO goals, make sure no one found out abt the reactor by repeatedly going and fixing it, and ALSO becoming super strong and powerful enough to eventually be in charge of the school.

most of the dream progressed like this - days, weeks, maybe even months passed? me and this person i was with would sleep together in the caves to be sure no one else was coming (truly i am not sure why i didnt just like... report it to the school or something to be fixed properly OR why i cared abt it being secret in general???) and every so often wed "fix" the reactor again.

then i remember walking down a hallway at one point and realizing someone found the reactir bc they had swapped out the rods but had just brought the old ones into the building and threw them away like regular trash?? i just remember walking down the hallway and nearly passing out from the "radiation" and there was also something about like. fighting some woman while i was trying to fix it but i was alone this time and couldnt really do the magic to seal in the radiation alone so after a couple tries i just decided to fix it as quickly as possible and hopefully i wouldnt die or whatever. it DID work out tho i have no clue where this whole scenario fits into the dream chronologically but whatever.

then i remember being in a classroom with this shitty rude teacher who was like racist against ppl who cant do magic or whatever and he was kind of onto me abt the whole Not Actually A Student bit so he was like. sort of singling me out. like in a way where it wasnt obvious he was talking about me EXCEPT to me.

i ended up getting super pissed and challenged him and he was like lol okay if youre sooo good and powerful at magic make a copy of the pants im wearing right now dipshit and i tried sooo hard and i could not conjure them directl y but eventually i was able to turn my OWN pants into an identical copy of his but he basically just laughed and said that wasnt good enough and even if it was it took me too long to do it and i got SOOO mad i was like look. i am not a pants conjurer. you want me to read the future? move a lake? grow a forest? THAT i can do. ive admittedly never even TRIED to conjure fucking PANTS before" and he was just like yaya. sure. you have to get to your next class.

but i was so pissed i was like FUCK it. so i kinda acted like i was leaving but then made myself invisible so i could hide in his classroom (he was leaving campus for the day and turned all the lights off) and then follow him out.

as soon as he got outside (it was sunny) he noticed me but it was too late bc as the sun touched his skin he transformed into like. a solid stone gargoyle. (as far as i could tell this was his natural condition and not really fucked up... like i got the impression he HAD to expose himself to sunlight and change every so often or something bad would happen to him?)

and i was just like oh..... this is GREAT and started flying just above his head (in meat form he could fly but as stone like this he was too heavy tho he sure tried lmao) and like ducking at him and shit to bother him. he started running off and the last thing i remember was going "okay enough playtime" and then i like. ran two fingers over my left wrist and summoned a bow (i could not SEE it but i could feel the solid weight in my hand and i knew id used it so many times i didnt need to be able to see it) drew the string and fired an arrow (which i also couldnt see) at him and then i woke up

#trying so hard lately to write down ANY dreams i remember no matter how smal detail or how incoherent #having a LOT of trouble remembering even the smallest details :(#dream #dreams

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dazzledbyrob · 7 years

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NEW INTERVIEW WITH ESQUIRE UK

Robert Pattinson’s Darker Materials

Three years since he last met Esquire, Robert Pattinson remains dedicated to redefining himself as an expressive actor beyond the teen-hero hysteria of his early career. In his new film, gritty heist thriller Good Time, he finds redemption as a cold-hearted criminal and achieves the almost supernaturally impossible — walking around New York unrecognised

When he was shooting his latest movie, Good Time, in Queens last year, Robert Pattinson would start the day with a run. And he’d be recognised, as always. Such is life for the 31-year-old actor formerly known as Edward Cullen, the broody vampire in the Twilight movies. Over five years and five films, he inspired such a vast and hysterical following that more than any star of his generation he became a prisoner of his own celebrity. He was forced to sell his home in Griffith Park, Los Angeles, because of paparazzi at the gates. They trailed him everywhere, entailing all kinds of Jason Bourneism, like swapping clothes with friends and assistants in restaurant bathrooms, sending them off in decoy cars, up to five at a time. And if he failed, if just one tweet went out with his location, then armies of paps and Twi-hards, crazed and shrieking, would come galloping over the horizon like the Dothraki hordes.

But after each run, something extraordinary happened. He got into costume as his character in Good Time, Connie Nikas, a Greek-American criminal from Queens, and just like that, the staring stopped. He could walk down the street unmolested. This latest film is his best performance by some distance, an electric, adrenalin shot of a movie that will establish him as one of the most vital actors of the day, so there’s that. But this gift of anonymity may be equally precious. Good Time will put Pattinson’s name in lights while simultaneously helping him blend into the background. Shooting it gave him his life back. It’s handed the prisoner a set of keys, because as Nikas, Pattinson could move through the world again. He was free.

“It was amazing. Invisibility cloak,” he says. “I’ve always wondered what can you do, just a simple thing to your face so you can just… exist in the world. And now I know. Darken your beard and put on these acne scar things and people will look directly into your face, and not even a glimmer. It’s fascinating. Also earrings, there’s something about fake diamond earrings.”

He looks a bit Connie Nikas today, actually. We’re in a booth at a private member’s club in West Hollywood, and he’s wearing a sports jacket on top of a hoodie, never mind that this is the height of summer. The jacket’s Lacoste; very hipster I tell him. And he laughs.

“Is anyone not a hipster now? I think it’s just normal culture,” he says. “Anyway, I found this on eBay so, you know… I’d be cool if I had it from school, like, ‘I’ve had this for aaages. I still dress exactly like I did when I was 12.’ Ha ha ha!”

He looks happy, energised, garrulous. The hands move around, the Lacoste rustles, he’s chewing on a toothpick and tipping his head back to laugh and laugh. He looks like a guy who made a bet on himself and won, which he did. And this is what he’s here to tell us: chase what you want in life, take the risk, who cares what people think in the end. This is your life, not theirs.

The last time I saw Pattinson for Esquire, three years ago, he’d only just made that bet. He came over to my house for lunch, and we got the barbecue going, there were beers — things celebrities never do — and we talked about The Rover, a film he made with director David Michôd (Animal Kingdom). It was his first major step on the route away from Twilight and towards Good Time, a life that he actually wanted. He’d made a pact with himself to only pick roles that were unlike anything he’d done before, that would broaden him as an actor and human being, and to work only with film-makers he loved, with no compromise. So post-Twilight, his CV is just one auteur after the next, in a string of movies that don’t make money but are always compelling. Besides The Rover, there’s his second film with David Cronenberg, 2014’s Maps to the Stars; The Childhood of a Leader directed by his friend Brady Corbet; The Lost City of Z with the film-maker’s film-maker, James Gray, not to mention the Safdie brothers, Josh and Benny, who made Good Time.

Back in 2014, he was living next to rap impresario Suge Knight in a gated community on Mulholland Drive, still in hiding from Twilight fans. It was a secluded life, with just an inflatable boat and an assistant for company. “Aww, I miss my assistant,” he says. “He’s now a real estate agent in Phoenix. Couldn’t take it any more. 'All you do is play video games!’” Most of Pattinson’s time was spent in one room, watching films and reading books, much as it is today.

“Probably my fondest memory from that house is watching the first three seasons of Game of Thrones over four days.” He laughs. “So lame that’s my fondest memory!”

He dreamed of escape. #Vanlife on Instagram became an obsession, posts celebrating the nouveau hippy world of attractive young surfer types living the free-spirit life in camper vans, free of all material possessions beyond a hammock, a book of poetry and a mobile phone to upload selfies to madden people in cubicle offices.

“I nearly did it,” Pattinson says. “I was 100 per cent going to live in a van, but not just any van — a stealth van! It’s a special niche, not like living in a trailer. Stealth vans looks like a normal Transit van, so you can park on the street, put signs on saying you’re a plumber or whatever and no one would notice.”

Van life promised anonymity, freedom, mobility: all the things he missed and wanted.

“It’s that thing, where you can just leave in the middle of the night and, like, drive to Nebraska,” he says. “And with solar power, you’re totally off the grid. I’d love that so much. And I was like, I’m still young, this is my chance…”

So he looked into it. The Mercedes-Benz Sprinter looked tidy; it had a toilet and shower in the back. But no.

“The Sprinter’s too fancy. It draws attention. So I visited different companies to retro- fit Transit vans but it’s complicated,” he says. “Once you build [in] a toilet and shower yourself, you can’t get it insured and blah blah blah.”

Still, he hasn’t ruled it out. One day, maybe. For now, though, instead of Nebraska, he moved five minutes down the road, to another secluded mansion in the hills. Only this time it’s not quite such a Spartan existence. He lives with “Twigs”, aka FKA Twigs, the British singer, and their little dog Solo. He won’t talk about her, though they may be engaged after three years together. And one can’t blame him; the Twi-hard fanbase has already subjected her to a torrent of racist abuse. Which is partly why they spend half their time in London, out east near Hackney Downs (hipster level: high). Pattinson gets hassled much less back home. “I go around on my bike,” he says, “so I’m basically a ghost.”

He was deep into #vanlife when he saw a still from the Safdie brothers’ movie of 2014, Heaven Knows What. It was just a close-up of the actress Arielle Holmes in a pink/blue light, her eyes sunken and strung out as if on heroin; she was playing a homeless junkie, a life she’d led until Josh Safdie approached her in a Manhattan subway and asked to make a film about her. The realism was palpable. And Pattinson was hooked at once: he had to work with these people.

“It was so cool, this photo, it had an amazing vibe, but also they’re American. Normally with an image like that, the director turns out to be Czech or something,” he says. “And my agents hadn’t heard of them either, so I knew I’d found something before anybody else.” This is what Pattinson loves more than anything — making discoveries.

Without even seeing the movie, he wrote the Safdies an email rich with compliments, a tried and tested ploy. “I basically say, 'Look, I’m not playing. I like very little and I like this thing you did, I think you’re good, and I just… know!’ And after that I call repeatedly.”

He’s done this with James Gray, with acclaimed French film director Claire Denis (who’s writing and directing his next film High Life). It’s a winning strategy. “I realised about four years ago, this is the best way to do it. I don’t even tell my agents.”

At first, Josh Safdie was hesitant. He was working on a movie about New York’s diamond district and Pattinson just wasn’t right for it. But they clicked, and once they met up, Josh saw something: “He has a wounded war veteran vibe to him, like there’s a major trauma in his life and he’s constantly trying to hover, trying not to be seen. I thought that was perfect for a guy on the run.” So the Safdies created a project for Pattinson, essentially writing him a movie.

“The thing about Josh and Benny,” Pattinson says, “is their energy and drive. It’s astonishing. And that’s how their movies feel, like there’s too much fuel in the car! I wanted that energy, something superkinetic. A lot of the stuff I’d done before was reactive, so I wanted to be forced into a situation. That’s their tone: runaway train. Their genre is literally panic. And that’s kind of who I am as well. So I said, 'Just push push push, be as audacious as possible.’”

The story centres around Connie, a sociopathic street criminal who can’t stand the thought of his mentally challenged brother Nick — played brilliantly by Benny Safdie — being institutionalised. So Connie takes him on a bank robbery, the first of several terrible decisions, each one cascading chaotically into the next. It’s a film that seizes you by the lapels and doesn’t let go for 100 minutes.

Unlike anything else he’s done, Pattinson was involved throughout the writing process. He was in the jungle in Colombia at the time, making The Lost City of Z, a gnarly experience by all accounts: he has stories of picking maggots out of his beard, and crew members being bitten by snakes. But at the day’s end, he’d find a volley of emails (there’s wi-fi in the Amazon, apparently) from the Safdies about Connie Nikas, about criminals, about the world of their movie.

They worked together painstakingly on Connie’s backstory, and Robert read all the books the brothers were inspired by, The Executioner’s Song by Norman Mailer and In the Belly of the Beast by Jack Henry Abbott. He watched the documentaries they sent over, notably One Year in a Life of Crime (1989) by John Alpert, and episodes of Cops, the Nineties reality TV that featured police chasing down and arresting a whole menagerie of street criminals. Josh calls it “America’s greatest TV series”. There would often be dialogue or behaviour that would be useful in building Connie Nikas. By the time Pattinson was ready to move to Queens, he was already halfway there.

Pattinson doesn’t do method; he’s more or less untrained, apart from a short stint in the Barnes Theatre Company aged 15. The Safdies introduced him to a new level of improvisation and research. They had Robert as Connie writing Nick letters as though from prison. Then they went on a tour of the Manhattan Detention Complex.

“Rob came as Connie, but he didn’t have the accent yet so he just looked around and kept to himself,” says Josh Safdie. They met people that Connie might be friends with. “My friends at Lucky’s Automotive Repair in Yonkers, basically. We started bringing Benny in as Nick then.” And from there, Rob and Benny took their characters out into the world, going to Dunkin’ Donuts, even working at a car wash together for a week.

“We had Nick drive the cars off after they went through,” says Benny. “But Nick has issues. He can’t do what Connie wants him to, so there was tension between them, it almost got violent. And that’s what we wanted. We wanted to give Rob a history of the emotions he would feel in certain moments.”

Critically, though, no one clocked Pattinson through all this. The car wash manager knew who he was, but no one else did, and they didn’t ask. It was a revelation. As Connie — with the clothing, hair and makeup — Pattinson could go unrecognised to such a degree that when they shot a scene toward the end in an apartment block, local residents didn’t even see him as an actor. They knew a movie star was in their midst but had heard it was Bradley Cooper.

“So, I was in this packed elevator and people were like, 'Yo, you like Bradley Cooper’s security guard?’ It was amazing,” Pattinson says. One of the joys of Good Time is remembering just how different Robert and his character Connie actually are. Pattinson is from south-west London, where he went to The Harrodian, a nice public school in Barnes. The son of a vintage-car salesman father and a model-booker mother, he grew up middle class and comfortable, an artistic type who set out after a music career (his band’s name: Bad Girls) before acting won out. He never came across characters like Connie Nikas in real life, so he imagined them; they were “fantasy figures”, as he calls them. And as such, no less influential.

“Growing up, you see Pacino and you want to be that,” he says, and then laughs. “I sound like a dick already, comparing myself to Pacino!”

But the point is sound; to Pattinson, Connie falls into the tradition of Pacino’s Sonny in Dog Day Afternoon, or Robert De Niro’s Johnny Boy in Mean Streets, the very characters who inspire people like Pattinson to become actors in the first place. Like all middle-class kids, he craved Connie’s authenticity.

“Everyone wants to say, 'I’ve gone through hardships’ or whatever. And some kids at school got so obsessed with looking tough that eventually they just were. They were mugging people. It’s like, 'Why are you mugging people? You live in Wimbledon!’ But you could see the progression,” he says. “It was born out of desire, not necessity. It’s fascinating.”

As for Pattinson, he just lied.

“I decided the best way to be real is to fake it! I used to lie all the time when I was younger. Like even though I had a London accent, I’d tell people I grew up on a farm in Yorkshire. That was about as gritty as I could pull off.”

His own life of crime was limited to stealing porn mags, aged 11, a story he told US shock jock Howard Stern. Eventually, he was caught, of course, the moment of humiliation seared into his memory as, in front of a line of old ladies collecting their pensions, the shop owner reached into his bag and pulled out one jazz mag after another.

“I turned on the tears and everything. I was desperate!” he says. “And when my mum heard, I totally threw one of my friends under the bus: 'Dan did it!’ It’s pretty terrifying when you’re backed against the wall. When people ask how would you behave in an emergency, now I know. I’m a wimp! I guess that’s pretty obvious!”

He says wimp, but there’s a quiet strength behind that self-effacing, affable front. Not everyone would confess to being a cowardly kid, or lying about their background, as insecure people don’t admit their flaws so freely. One of the reasons he was so drawn to the role of Connie, for instance, was the character’s lack of fear or shame. “I’m the opposite. Shame is the most crippling thing. I don’t even know what it is, it’s not connected to any other emotion. So I choose work to directly combat elements of my own personality.”

Josh Safdie spotted Pattinson’s ambition early on. “There’s a mania to him,” he says. “A manic desire to conquer the world. I was very happy to see it.”

And for all his self-deprecation, there’s a pride there in what he’s achieved post-Twilight. None of his subsequent film choices are obviously commercial, which suits him perfectly: low-budget indies, he says, have a lower bar to break even and with his international stardom, courtesy of Twilight in no small part, he can usually rest easy. Sometimes, his involvement is what makes these projects actually happen.

But artistically — and this is where he’s definitely not a wimp — every project is a risk, a test, a leap, yet another opportunity to fail and land very publicly on his arse. But that’s just how he likes it. The nerves, the threat of failure keep him interested.

“I like a big mountain to climb,” he says. “Some parts no one would think of me for, and I don’t blame them.”

Why go for those roles though, if they’re so against type? He shrugs.

“Probably just to prove I can, really.”

As the bill arrives for our meal, Pattinson chomps merrily through another round of toothpicks. It seems he’s been entirely sensible this time around. Not even one beer. “If I drink I’ll sound like a cock,” he says. “Actually, I probably sound like a cock already!” Anyway, he’s saving room for a cognac tasting later tonight with the Good Time producers. Not the kind of thing he does that often but these are heady times, what with the excitement around the movie, the critical acclaim. It’s such a buzz that even the press tour isn’t so painful. There’s room for some mischief at any rate.

On Jimmy Kimmel Live!, he tried to make fun of Josh Safdie but it came out wrong. He told Kimmel that Safdie had asked him to jerk off a dog. “It got [animal charity] Peta angry… everyone. It was like a whole American uproar for a day-and-a-half,” Josh says. “He’s a little shit, I promise you. But I love that about him.”

For the most part, though, Pattinson leads a fairly quiet life. It’s just him, Twigs and Solo kicking around at home. When he’s not working, he says, he’s looking for work.

“I’m basically flicking through the pages of Loot every day. I live the life of an unemployed person.” And for him that means watching art house movies, trawling film-geek websites and — so long as Game of Thrones isn’t on — cold-calling directors.

In a couple of weeks, he’s off to Germany for cosmonaut training for the movie he’s making with Claire Denis. It’s about another ex-con, this time in space as part of a human reproduction experiment. He mentioned it in a Q&A session in LA after a screening of Good Time, and no one in the audience had heard of Denis. Such is Pattinson’s particular taste.

“I don’t think Claire has made a bad movie in, like, 20, but I don’t know if any have been commercially successful!” he laughs. “That’s what it’s like in France. There’s a market there for less conventionally commercial movies, and that’s the world I want to be a part of. I just want to do stuff that people are only making for themselves, because it ends up being, by definition, more singular.”

The project that has him excited comes at the end of the year: The Devil All the Time, by Antonio Campos, who made Christine last year, a brilliant drama about a depressive Seventies news anchor in Florida. (For the record, Pattinson cold-called him too.) “There’s this line in it — and sometimes that’s all you need. And it’s like, 'Ooh… that’s scary to say’. Because it’ll go down in posterity and I’ll be the one saying it. You literally cannot get darker. It’s fucking dark. This character is an evangelical preacher in the South in the Fifties, but he’s gleefully bad and kind of funny and charismatic too. I know, it’s irresistible.”

Like, sexually repulsive, violent?

“Mmm… yes, all that. But you know when actors say, 'I refuse to play someone who does something bad.’ I’m, like, why? That’s fucking crazy. You can’t do anything bad in your real life. I think if someone needs to play a hero all the time, it’s probably because they’re doing really gross stuff in their real life.”

So you’re telling me, this is the only chance you get to be bad?

He laughs, and gets up to put on his Lacoste jacket, his camouflage, and flips up the hoodie underneath. Now he’s safe to leave our meeting without causing an incident. But it’s impossible now not to see shades of Connie, the sociopath bank robber from Queens.

“Yeah,” he grins. “The rest of the time, I’m an angel!”

Good Time is out on 3 November

#robert pattinson #robertpattinson

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