#and personal time (time away from work) is just a given

[revcleo]

Class traitors of the working class are there to undermine the working class.

Class traitors of the capitalist class are there to undermine the capitalist class.

Marx wouldn't have survived without Engels, a classless society is one where people who are currently comfortable will not have to see poor people begging on the streets. Creating a better world for everyone means a better world for everyone, rich people are made to feel as though owning massive amounts of money is the only thing which means they and their children can have a better life. This is the whole thing behind the "working class landlord" situation.

When all people are given protection in their old age, this includes people who thought they would have to exploit the labour of others.

People frequently don't think of systemic solutions, but instead put it on individuals. Even if the grand dickhead Musk suddenly gave all his money to the USA, that would be half of Medicare's budget for the year. There can be so much more money if there's something like, a 100% wealth tax above 1 million (stocks and shares and liquid capital). I've not done the sums on that but like, it would hit way more people. Most people can agree that 1 million USD is enough money for one person?

Then so long as the funding doesn't all disappear into the military blackhole, which in 2025 was about 4 times as much money as musk has (if he liquidated his assets according to google). It'd make a bunch of public housing, lowering overall house prices.

In regards to house prices, people do want them to go up because it provides people with additional finance in the future, but housing shouldn't be an investment it should be a place where people live. What we need to do then is make sure that people don't lose out on mortgages with the bank, so there should be protection on wealth for individuals up to an amount like here in the UK, which is about 80k I believe? And I think maybe it would be a good idea to consult with economists (they're not all bad) on what laws could be passed to ensure that people don't suffer from house prices going down re: mortgages and negative equity.

Either way it's definitely possible to join with capitalist class traitors to ensure that everyone has a better future. Just sometimes people need to do more systems thinking. Otherwise it's just the same as shouting at someone not recycling a plastic bottle properly and saying they're killing the environment when they're just another symptom of the system which incentivises throwing things away.

Gosh.

Must be rough for them.

[theliving-radio]

hey so how do you think Azul, Lilia, the tweels and Malleus would deal with getting very unique gifts that are symbolism from reader crush? (Like to the mer people in this list: reader gives them a cockle seashell which is basically a love confession and wishing for the person’s protection. Telling Lilia: they’re gonna hang up holly in their room, so he can visit whenever he feels like. Specific Bad fae aren’t welcome, but he is. Gets Malleus: a tiny gargoyle cuz it’s easy to carry around and it’s for protection from evil).

Ooooo! I love this idea! Just cute gifts that the reader gives them to show how much they like them! 100% agree with this. Totally on board with this!

Warnings: nothing so far! Gender neutral reader, not fully proof read,

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

Azul Ashengrotto

For the past week, Azul felt like he was at his limit. He honestly thought another Overblot was going to take hold of him with how many incidents that kept occurring throughout the week.

It first started with Floyd messing up the lounge with one of his tantrums. That's fine, it's not the first time.

The second was when he ordered new decorations for the Lounge, and when they were finally delivered, he received the wrong set he purchased. Somehow, the company mixed the order with someone else’s. Now he’s stuck with hot pink decorations and a banner that says “Sweet 16”.

Fine! Totally fine! He can wait for the next package! They’ll be here in two days! It’s fine!

And then there’s you-

You are your helpful hand, carefree, and a sense of peace. Even with your chaotic friends, Azul found you to be endearing.

But lately he hasn’t seen you. And when he began to question your friends, they would avoid the topic of you. As if they were nervous to say anything to him.

Were you avoiding him? Why would you be avoiding him?? Sure he’s forced your friends into shady helpful contracts where they had to work for the lounge and not get any pay for it. And yeah, you were pissed, but that was water under the bridge now!

Right?

He still tries to rope you into contracts to try and benefit you (mostly him), but in reality it’s just to get you to be around him. He’s grown fond of you…

Sevens! He might even like you!

But you don’t need to know about that-

He had this huge plan of trying to make you fall head over heels for him! He wanted you to swoon over how well he does business and how he would make such a good partner for you.

But how is he suppose to enact that plan when he doesn’t even know where you are?!

At this point he had enough and started making his way over to Ramshackle. He wasn’t able to make it far since he saw you sprinting down the pathway.

“Azul!” You smiled and waved at him as you slowed down your pace. You looked… extremely happy to see him? But weren’t you avoiding him?

“Why, Prefect… hello-,” Azul stops when you shove something colorful in his face.

It took a few seconds for him to register what was being shoved in his face, and when he finally saw what it was he was in awe.

A Conch Shell.

“Ah, Prefect… you do know what you’re giving me right?” Azul was hopeful, but only a little bit. You came from another world, you probably didn’t know what a rare clam represented when given to an octo-mer.

And it’s a Cockle Shell! A giant one at that! Where did you even find this?!

“It’s a Cockle Seashell!… that’s how you pronounce it right? Cockle?”

“Yes… but do you understand what you are handing me?” Azul carefully takes it from your hands and inspects it, feeling the weight of it.

When the Octo-mer looks back over to you, he notices how shy you began acting. You were swaying from side to side while rubbing your arms. “I did some research on courting gifts for merfolk, specially Octo-mer. It said that conch shells mean love and happiness… unless I read is wrong… Oh my gosh did I just give you an offensive gift?!”

You were about to take the gift away from Azul in a state of panic, but instead he pulled away from you and held it close to his chest.

“No! No, it doesn’t mean anything offensive… it does mean love and protection-, but are you aware what you’re doing? Prefect you just handed me a courting gift!” Azul doesn’t know why he was raising his voice, but he wanted to make his point across. He needed to make sure you knew what you were saying through your gift.

“I wouldn’ be giving it to you in the first place if I didn’t have feelings for you, Azul. Honestly, you’re a smart student. You can figure it out,” you lightly teased him with a smile on your face.

At that point, the Housewarden felt like he was going to explode into a blushing mess.

So the whole reason why you went missing was because you went to the Deep Sea to look for a conch shells just for him. And this whole time he thought you were trying to avoid him, but really…

You did this for him and Azul felt like now was also a good time to confess his feelings.

He clears his throat and strengthens his back, standing up straight and puts his charm on.

“I thank you very much Prefect, I shall happily accept this gift… and your feelings.

Azul felt his heart nearly skip a beat when he saw your face break into a wide smile.

“So-… does this mean you feel the same? Like truly?”

“That’s what it means when I accept, yes.”

The Octo-mer watches as you fist pump the hair in excitement. He couldn’t help but smile.

If Azul had to go through every stressful mishap that’s happened this week to get to this point, he would happily do it all over again.

Jade Leech

Jade found it amusing when students feared him. To watch them squirm under his gaze and to see what they would do. It was his own form of entertainment. He’s aware that some students aren’t aware of the things he could do and that allows them to let their guard down, and that’s when he fully strikes.

The group he always enjoys torturing is the freshmen, mainly those Heartslabyul freshmen and their furry little land friend, Grim. It was always a nice source of entertainment.

Like right now. The eel was happy to watch them squirm and spew out apologies when they bumped into him in the hallway, almost making him drop a very important mushroom species he wanted to cultivate. Jade only gives them a kind smile and told them to make sure they watch where they were going.

“We don’t want anyone getting hurt after all, right?”

Watching them quickly agree and run off to you just on the other side of the hall was the cherry on top.

Though the downside to it is that he couldn’t do the same thing to you. Usually, you would just stare up at him with an unimpressed expression and ask him if there was anything else he needed, then promptly ignore him when he tries to make his say in something.

You piqued his interest, and from there, he has always kept an eye on you.

Over time, from just observing you, he’s begun to like your headstrong nature. You didn’t back down when your friends were in danger, standing up for them. And then there’s your gentle side, something he didn’t know he would find alluring when it came to you.

He thought that, as a predator, it made you weak. But seeing it from you, he couldn't help but swoon just a little.

He forced took you on a hike with him so he could get some mushroom samples in the nearby forest by the school. Just before he stole you, you happened to bump into him as you were walking out of class, and so he thought it was a perfect opportunity to get you to pay him back for wrinkling his uniform.

It wasn’t a tough hike, something you can manage, but when he didn’t hear anything from you for a while, he noticed you were gone. Jade had to look for you, and eventually he did. He watched as you were admiring a certain fungus he wanted to collect.

Jade will deny it, but from just watching you admire something he enjoys made his heart skip a beat.

Though lately he couldn’t seem to find you. Even your friends weren’t helping him to pin point your location.

Were you avoiding him? He hopes not, he would have to hunt you down if that was the case.

Thankfully that wasn’t the case as he found you after week of silence. You were sitting at one of the booths in the lounge, holding what looked to be… oh? Is that a terrarium?

“Prefect, it’s been awhile.”

You look up to see Jade and flash him a bright smile. The mer-eel falters a bit, thinking that you would have tried to find a way to escape him with an excuse, but instead you looked happy to see him. Based on your reaction, Jade concluded that you weren’t truly avoiding him. Perhaps you were busy? Yes, that has to be the reason. He really hopes that’s the reason.

“Yeah sorry about that… was actually making this for you!” You turned the terrarium around so Jade to get a better view inside.

He carefully lifts up the terrarium and begins to inspect it. This had to have been your first time creating something like this. As beautiful as it was, Jade spotted a few areas where you made small mistakes.

The mer-eel could not help but smile, a true smile, as he inspected every little detail you placed into your creation. But then he paused when he saw something he wasn’t expecting to see…

A pink colored pearl, hidden right between some moss and a rock you placed in together.

“Prefect… is that what I think it is?”

“Ha ha, so you see it right?” You laugh nervously and fiddle with your fingers.

Jade turns to face you, eyes wide as he takes in your appearance. You were obviously avoiding looking at him, your cheeks dusted with a small blush which only grew darker when you felt him staring at you.

Oh how adorable you were.

Jade gives you a toothy smile as he sets the terrarium down in order to sit across from you. “If I’m correct… this is a courting gift to me?” He knew it was, but he wanted to hear it from you.

Who knew to make you squirm was to just question you about your feelings for him. How delightful to know.

“Yes… I wanted to confess to you, but then I was reading about merfolk courtship, and from there I started to look into Moray Eel Merfolk courting and- well… I know you really enjoy making terrariums and I thought making you one with an pearl inside would be… a good gift?” You sounded unsure of yourself, but when you finally looked at Jade, he had the most softest expression you’ve ever seen him show.

“It’s a good gift. A wonderful gift, and I will surely treasure it,” Jade reaches his hand out from across the table and takes ahold of your own, pulling it forward to place a kiss on it.

Now he needed to visit his own home to prepare a courting gift for you.

Floyd Leech

Screw practice! Screw Schoolwork! Screw the lounge!

It’s been a week and a half, and for some reason Floyd has been getting irritated more than usual. It started out as just being annoyed, then it turned to straight agitation where everyone and everything was a trigger for the mer-eel.

Floyd has even broken multiple things in the lounge, causing Azul a great headache and a large dent into the lounges expenses.

He didn’t even know why he broke all the stuff in the first place! But he wasn’t going to stop either!

Right as soon as classes ended, Floyd made his way to his room and threw his school bag across the room nearly missing Jade as he was carefully placing moss into a glass bowl with some tweezer. Jade didn’t flinch or comment on Floyd’s antics, he was used to it after all. But for some reason this destructive behavior was going on longer than some would allow.

So Jade finally stepped up and said something that caused Floyd to think:

“Is it because of the Prefect?”

At the time, Floyd was ripping apart his side of the room. Pillows were thrown, homework he didn’t even touch was shredded, and when Jade mentioned you he suddenly paused from getting ready to shatter a glass jar that Jade was going to use for one of his terrariums.

Floyd was deep in thought. When was the last time he saw his Shrimpy?

He let out a loud gasp, eyes wide with realization.

A week and a half ago! His shrimpy has been missing for a week and a half!

Jade took the unoccupied terrarium from Floyd and hummed with a smile, knowing well that he hit the nail on the head.

It’s true that nobody has seen you for more than a week, and Floyd started to get annoyed around that time frame. It couldn’t have been a coincidence for that to have happen! The fact that Jade was the one to point it out bothered him just a bit. Why did it take this long to notice your absence? Where were you anyway?

You better not be hiding from him! He’s gonna squeeze you if you are!

With the thought of you in mind, Floyd was now on a hunt.

He was on his way over to Ramshackle, but he didn’t make it out of the mirror chamber. Instead he ran into you.

A small “oof” left your lips as you stare up at the tall mer-eel who stared down at you with wide eyes. Oh! Floyd! I was just going to go find you-,” you were cutoff when Floyd picks you up and squeezes you, literally crushing you in his tight grip.

“Nee~ Shrimpy went missing for such a loooooong time! Were they hiding from me?” The look that Floyd gave you would have been scary and intimidating for anyone else, but you knew you weren’t going to be harmed for what you were about to give Floyd.

“Of course not! I went to go somewhere so I can make you something!”

Floyd loosened his grip just a bit from hearing that you got something for him. The mer-eel places you down carefully, contradicting from the rough squeeze session he just gave you. He started to get a bit giddy, like a child, as he watched you dig through your pocket before pulling out a a single dangling earring made with sea glass, but that wasn’t what caught his attention, no.

It was the single shark tooth that dangled at the bottom of the piece of jewelry.

You handed him the earring in the palm of your hand, but Floyd didn’t automatically grab it, he was just staring at it with a blank expression. He didn’t make any movement towards it and you were starting to suspect you did something fully wrong… or that he was rejecting the courting gift you made for him.

So you began to ramble.

“Um… I was talking to Jade and told him that I like you… he said that I should court you with a shark tooth. It was troubling… but that’s ok! I asked around where I could get one and-,” Floyd didn’t want to hear the rest from you, instead he pulled you back into his arms and hugs you tightly.

Not enough to crush you though, he didn’t wanna hurt his shrimpy!

“You could have just tell me! I know humans don’t court like mer-eels do, but still! Shrimpy was gone for so long!”

“Oh, I’m sorry Floyd… I can take this back-,”

“NO! This is mine now!” Floyd puts you down once again and takes off his single earring, replacing it with the one you carefully crafted just for him.

From then on, Floyd wore it with pride, showing off the earring to anyone that was in a 12 foot radius and boasting about how HIS Shrimpy made it just for him!

But now, anytime when Floyd hasn’t seen you for over a day, he goes on a hunt to find you. His little Shrimpy shouldn’t be hiding from him.

Lilia Vanrouge

The retired general enjoys cooking. He loves cooking! But he can’t understand why nobody wanted to try out his cooking! He made such a colorful dish!

Look! It even shifts from green to purple!

Lilia found it very strange that he couldn’t find his three favorite adopted children to try out his new creation. (If only he looked up, he would find Malleus, Sebek, and Silver all huddled in a corner on the ceiling.) They were growing boys! They needed to eat!

But when he thought about eating, a certain person, or Prefect, appeared in his mind. The Ramshackle Prefect is such a sweet human, sharing recipes with Lilia and the like… and they even try his cooking!

So all together Lilia forgot about the poor three souls that were hiding from him and went straight over to Ramshackle.

The old fae hummed a tune long forgotten as he floated over to your housing, happily carrying the Tupperware he wishes to share with you.

He appeared at your front door and knocked on it, before ringing the doorbell.

Were you cooking something too? Something smelled incredibly good!

Lilia inhaled through his nose, realizing that the scent was coming from outside… and above him? He looks up to see some thyme wrapped in string dangling from the door frame.

Oh you clever beastie! Fae enjoyed the smell of thyme, it’s a favorite of theirs. You must have done your research! But as Lilia looks closer to it, he notices another plant mixed with the thyme.

Foxglove.

Just as he was about to float up to get a better look, the front door opens to reveal you in your lounge wear. You were surprised to see Lilia at your front door, and embarrassed that he noticed the thyme and foxglove.

A week ago, you did some research on certain courting gifts to give to fae and wanted to gift one to the retired general. But you went against the idea, thinking it was too much, too big of a leap. So you began to research on the things fae like, even going as far as to ask Malleus.

Malleus found amusement in the fact that you had a crush on the old coot, he had to tease you about it before giving you advice on what to do. Silver found out about it too and so the two tag teamed on teasing you and judging your taste on falling for Lilia.

At least they weren’t singing the “kissing in a tree” song.

But you guess the small ordainment worked, because you weren’t expecting to see a blush upon Lilia face when he saw you. But he tried to play it cool around you, acting like it didn’t affect him.

But you knew better.

“So you just want any fae to visit you?” Lilia questions with a playful smirk on his face.

“Only the ones I want are allowed to come inside. Hence names I listed on the doorframe.”

Lilia snaps his head in the direction to where you were pointing. And indeed there were names carved into the frame. Malleus, Sebek, and his name were there.

You opened the door wider for him and smile. “Well? Is the fae going to enter?”

Lilia couldn’t help the wide smile appear on his face as he floats through the front door, crossing the threshold.

And he hopes that maybe along the way he can cross over from friend to something more.

Malleus Draconia

His Child of Man has been showing up later and later with each passing day for their nightly stroll. At first it didn’t bother Malleus, thinking that you were finishing school work and lost track of time. But when it kept happening he began to think that maybe you were either forgetting about him, or that you were trying to blow him off but started to feel guilty and went to hang out with him either way.

Whichever way it was, he didn’t like being away from his Child of Man for long. Your nightly strolls are the only time he’s able to see you and be with you after all. Very rarely does he see you in any of his classes, and both of you don’t see each other in the hallways either as your classes are far away from each other.

Lilia would encourage to sit with you during lunch, but he always had a feeling he would be intruding with you hanging out with your first year friends. (He also doesn’t want to distract Sebek away from his friends, the boy finally has friends!)

So the nightly strolls were just for you and him, where both of you could talk to each other for hours. It was a ritual in a way to spend time alone together, something he always looked forward to.

So now, you coming late each time, and him seeing you less and less bothers him a bit.

That’s a lie… it bothers him A LOT.

He wants his child of man! He misses his dear friend!

Malleus recalls telling Lilia about how he felt over seeing you less and less and the old fae had the gall to tease him. TEASE HIM!

It wasn’t until Lilia said something that made Malleus think much deeper on his and your relationship: “You miss them dearly, more than usual… have you perhaps grown deeper feelings for them?”

The realization hit him like green lighting striking him.

So now he waits outside by one of the pathways you both stroll through. He was going to confess to you his new found feelings for you, and this time he was willing to wait patiently since it would give him time to fully think about what to say. But he didn’t need to wait as long this time.

Malleus perked up as he heard the sound of footsteps approaching. As he turned his head in the direction of the sound he felt his breath hitch at the sight.

You were currently in your pajamas with a wide smile on your face. What Malleus noticed was the thing you were holding in both arms-

Was that a Gargoyle?

You stop short in front of Malleus, panting and trying to catch your breath as you gift the small gargoyle sculpture in your arms. “Hi Horton!” Malleus stared down at you in bewilderment. He couldn’t help but reach to tuck some hair behind your ear, but pauses when he sees what he did and pulls back.

"I apologize," Malleus begins to say as he pulls away. You couldn't help but giggle, which caused the dragon fae to blush.

"It's ok, I... don't mind really."

Malleus smiles down at you, causing you to blush furiously before shoving the gargoyle at him. "Th-this is for you!"

Malleus looks at the gift in shock. Was it really for him? He carefully took it from you and lifted the gargole sculpture to a better angle to look at.

It was... wonky. It wasn't grotesque looking, instead, it looked silly. Comically even. But he can see the dedication and determination crafted into the piece of clay. It kinda reminded him of you in a way. A silly human, who just so happened to capture his heart.

"I um... I wanted to give this to you... as a courting gift?" You sounded unsure of yourself, but you pressed on. "I was talking to Lilia about fae courting rituals and, well... I wanted to gift you a rock, one that you might like!"

At that, Malleus turns to look at you, his own face heating up.

"I thought, 'He likes gargoyles, so let's make him a gargoyle out of a small stone!' That... was not an easy task," you say as you pull out a small object from your pocket and present it to the fae.

Malleus was stunned. In your hand lay a small, misshapen stone. Or that's what he would have thought, but no, it was a small stone that looked like it was drilled and carved into.

You made this, you made him a courting gift. You tried crafting a mini gargoyle with your bare hands to court him.

Malleus didn't say anything... and his silence was starting to worry you a bit. You opened your mouth to speak, but he beat you to it.

"Is the reason why you've been late to our walks because you were crafting these?"

A blush starts to adorn your face as you shyly nod to him. Unsure what else to say. Thankfully, you didn't have to say anything as Malleus happily takes the smaller gift from you and brings it to his lips, gently kissing it.

"I accept your courting gift, child of man."

Malleus used his magic to transport the gifts to his room, where they would be properly appreciated at a later date. For now, Malleus wishes to appreciate the beauty that is his child of man.

His love.

——————————————

Hello! Hai! :D

I also did some research on some of the items in hopes to be more accurate. I actually learned that holly wards off all faeries, like iron, so I think Lilia wouldn’t be able visit if holly was around. Hope that’s ok!

Seashells I had such a hard time looking into because I wanted it to be different for all our fish boys! Floyd is an exception because I feel like he wouldn’t like a boring shells. How did reader get a shark tooth? We shall never know. :3

[what-even-is-thiss]

I’m about to combine my religion posting with my socialist posting for a second.

I’ve never tried to hide on this blog that I’m fairly religious. My faith is a big part of my life. I’m not here to convert anybody but I’m not interested in hiding that aspect of myself either.

Anyways I’ve been thinking about what I want from my life and wealth and how that relates to Christianity and the kind of economic system I live in.

Because in many ways pure capitalism and Christianity are kind of opposed if you really think about it. Any form of hoarding wealth and Christianity are opposed to each other if you really think about it. Yet it’s also been used as a reason to hoard wealth.

Jesus often spoke against hoarding wealth. He encouraged tax collectors to only collect what was due and not skim extra off the top. He said a poor person who gives a little money has given more than a rich person who gives a lot. He said it’s easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than enter the kingdom of heaven. And I’ve heard interpretations that that “eye of the needle” thing was actually in reference to a kind of very small door in city walls or something but point is, it’s difficult.

Then you get the invention of something like prosperity gospel. The idea that if you’re doing well it’s because you’re blessed. You get politicians working for the rich or who themselves are rich making a show of being pious while also harming the poor.

So I’ve been rattling this around in my brain. The culturally dominant religion in the western world teaches against the hoarding of wealth. Yet that same culture also puts the wealthy up on a pedestal and protects them.

I watched this video once about this guy who personally decided to donate half of his earthly wealth to charity because of his Christian faith. He wasn’t trying to tell other people they should do this. Just talking about his own spiritual journey and why he decided to do that. He sold half of his possessions, sold his house and downsized, really went through the wringer figuring out what’s really actually important to him and this guy wasn’t even particularly wealthy. He was maybe middle class. This was a huge sacrifice he made.

I’ve been tossing around in my brain how the same belief system could could create both that guy and prosperity gospel.

We get stories all the time about how the real treasure was the friends we made along the way, right? About letting go, about being happy with less, about sharing, about the dangers of greed. Sometimes we even get those stories from the organizations and people looking to hoard more and more. Disney comes to mind. The real treasure is family. And also all this money we made off of toy sales.

I feel like society is trying to push us towards a very specific definition of “success” while also wrestling with the reality that even if you aren’t Christian you live in a society with Christian ideals and one of those big Christian ideals is supposed to be charity. Not hoarding wealth at the expense of others.

Like this idea of being happy with just enough is supposed to be a message for the rich, right? Yet it seems to have been twisted around the other way. If you’re sick it’s your fault, you didn’t try hard enough, you didn’t rise and grind hard enough. Even though Jesus helped those who were suffering whether their suffering was their own fault or not, and often he rejected the notion that a person’s suffering was their own fault.

I know the answer to this disconnect is that the rich can afford to twist the narrative in their favor. That religion is a tool that can be used for both great good and great harm.

It’s still frustrating though. That I feel like I’m socialist partially because of my faith but those same messages that inspire people who aren’t even that well off to give away half of their earthly possessions are used as an excuse by others to justify bleeding the poor dry.

It’s something I’ve been sitting with when it comes to what I want with my life. It’s a cliche I guess in some Christian circles that you shouldn’t want what society wants but I’m starting to think that’s true. At least to some extent. I think I don’t want success by society’s definition of it. God asks you to not hoard your wealth. God instructs you to make time for rest. Yet society has told you to climb that ladder of success and never rest, never sleep until you get there.

Yeah, I think I’m going to rest. I think I reject the idea that success needs to involve money. I think that hoarding wealth is bad. And you don’t need to be Christian to think those things obviously but my faith leads me at least to these conclusions. However it hasn’t lead everyone to them, clearly. It’s a contradiction of values we all have to live with for now, unfortunately. Hopefully one day we can all live out the things we preach but for now that day seems very far away.

[honeybunnyale]

I'm Not In Love l B.B.

w.c.: 4k

t.w.: Dark Series, dub-con verging on non-con smut (Somnophilia, frottage), Slight Steve x Reader, Possessive Bucky, Obsessive Bucky, Stalker Bucky >:), Red Room/Hydra reader, unhealthy power dynamics, angst, I want both super soldiers pls :) 

a/n: Please read all warnings for all of my works before reading. 18+ only! I’m basing off of the titles from songs. This one’s I’m Not In Love by 10cc. ♥

Summary: Bucky is roaming New York. He watches and gets jealous. (Set after first part, Recognized)

New York

May, 9 2014

Your underwear is missing. Your window frame had also loosened. Somehow, you didn’t feel as anxious about it as any normal person should have. It brought you an odd sense of satisfaction. 

You were the first person he visited.

You leave leftovers in the fridge, some cash on the coffee table. Your Tupperware had a little less and your coffee table was cleaned, your two twenties gone. You’d scan the room as you entered, most of the time getting out of your apartment to give him time to explore your space. You’d admire a nearby park, sitting by the fountain as the breeze cooled your face. 

Judging by the way he left your laundry basket open, he may have explored for too long. 

He was like a ghost. A timid ghost that was too sheepish to make himself known. No scares, no malicious intentions, just a mediocre haunting. 

You haven’t told anyone about it yet, not even Steve. You’re sure he wouldn’t tell you if ‘Buck’ was visiting him every other day either. Given, he would have had the same amount of boxers in his drawers. 

He may not even notice. 

…

Brooklyn

July 4, 2014

Captain America liked nightclubs. The lively atmosphere and the beer, at the very least. Sam had gotten him a cake and with lack of coordination, Natasha had ordered one made too. It was a good thing that super soldiers could pack away a lot. Excess sugar could never hurt him. 

Sam was attempting to bribe the bar for free drinks and Nat was at the bakery nearby picking up a sheet cake and some candles. You were left alone with him, picking at the sprinkles from Sam’s cake and keeping Steve company. 

You sit next to him in a booth, sipping on your Tequila Sunrise. He was glancing at you every other moment, his ring finger tapping against the glass beer pint nervously. 

Your eyes glided over the crowd dancing, Daft Punk playing as drinks spilled and bodies rolled over each other. A dark figure walks through the crowd, moving through the synchrony of movement and parting it to reach the other end of the dancefloor.

Broad shoulders, large chest enveloped by leather, and shoulder length brown hair. Your breath hitches as you swear you saw glaring blues direct their stare in your direction. 

Steve notices you tense, throat bobbing as you take a large gulp out of your glass. Your eyes flicker between the table and your hands, He feels you stiffen beside him. 

He assumes you were uncomfortable with the loud noise and the awkward company he was. His shoulders square, he clears his throat as he directs a tight lipped smile at you. 

You raise your glass lightly, mimicking his gesture. You make yourself smaller into the cushion of the booth. You feel as if a wolf was staring at you, stalking and waiting. Your eyes widen as the figure appears again, much clearer now as disco lights illuminate his face. You swallow thickly as his eyes shift to Steve, now placing his hand on top of yours in worry.

Jame’s jaw tenses and his eyes narrow. As if he wanted to rip his hands off of you. 

You inhale sharply and grab Steve’s hand without warning. 

“Let’s dance, Steven.” 

It was uncomfortable, admittedly. He didn’t move from his spot in the booth as you stood, his cheeks turning a bright red as your hand gripped onto his forearm to pull him out. You almost forget about his super strength. He was as solid as a marble statue, but he didn’t make an effort to pull his hand away. He was gentle despite his clear refusal. 

A closer look, that was all you wanted. Maybe you were seeing things. You hoped so. You begged Steve with your eyes, smiling softly. 

You're almost surprised it worked. 

Steve’s hand grips onto yours firmly as you lead him into the crowd. His shoulders tense as bodies bump into him. He was the tallest one around, making him stand out. Your fingers tickle up his forearms, starting with a soft sway of your hips he could mimic. 

Your head sways side to side, arms moving to loosen him as Steve holds your hands tightly. Your eyes wander to your sides, searching to find him in the crowd, staring you down as you feel he is at that moment. 

Steve loosens, his hips start to find the beat as the song shifts into something a tad slower, the bass hitting a little deeper. People start to pair up, his fingers twitch as you pull him in closer, hands grazing over the muscles of his arms to meet his shoulders, then neck. 

He swallows thickly, he says your name, almost in a question. You couldn’t hear it from the loud music. 

“Relax,” you say softly, knowing his sensitive hearing could pick it up.

He was focused on you, the smell of your perfume, the way your hoop earrings glimmer from the lights. Your breasts press together as your wrists rest against the back of his neck. Your top was exposing, thin straps, and flowy and breezy fabric. 

His hands move to your hips, you bring yourself closer to him, pelvis meeting his. Your eyes scan behind Steve’s broad shoulders, eyes narrowing as you press your chest against his, bodies closer than ever. He wasn’t behind Steve. You sigh. 

You turn, facing away from him, your hips moving back and forth against his front. You guide him to the rhythm, he melts into the touch. 

He catches your eye again, moving from one side of the room to the other, at the edges of the crowd. He was a blur. You glance behind you, tilting your head up to catch Steve staring, lips parted in awe. 

He grinds against the swell of your ass, you feel him, thick and hard. His cock pulsing as it chubs up against the plush of your ass. His grip tightens and he has half a mind to start apologizing but you encourage it, pressing further against him and placing your hand on top of his. 

He groans lightly, feeling his stomach tighten and his heart quicken. You turn your head from side to side, in time with the slow tempo, pressing your back against his chest as you work him up further. 

He’s enjoying himself, you were too. You find him quickly, he was sitting at the bar now, nursing a beer as he stares with half lidded eyes at your display. You move erotically, staring back, licking your teeth as Steve leans down to your neck, your hand moving up to cup the back of his head. 

His metal fist clenches, covered in a leather glove. There’s your ghost. Not so shy and sheepish. He was staring daggers at you, at Steve. Finally, you see him. He keeps his head down as he takes his jacket roughly off the back of his seat and makes his exit through the crowded bar. 

…

He blows out his candles at a brooklyn pizza parlor, completely vacant at one in the morning. One cake had the number nine and the other six. It was very intimate. It was nice. 

You took a taxi home, looking out of the window. Maybe he was following closely behind. You think for a moment that he wouldn’t bother. He was upset, you might have gone too far. 

You think you were more desperate for a reaction from him than anything else. It was so unlike you. Cap couldn't even meet your eye the rest of the night. But you guess the departing hug meant it would be quickly forgotten. 

Dropping your keys and jacket onto the kitchen table, you start to take your shoes off. Your heart drops as you turn to lock your door and feel that something is off. 

You turn quickly to find the window open, just by a smidge. The curtains flail with the wind. You could smell the coming rain. 

Your breath stutters as you swallow thickly. It was nothing. 

Soft music hummed from your bedroom travelling all the way to your shower. You lathered your body in soap, rinsing it off gently. You relax. 

Then you hear a thunk, as if something had fallen to your carpeted floor outside the bathroom. You pause. 

You towel dry softly, reaching into the sink cabinet and blindly pawing at the corner to find your hidden pistol. 

You hum a tune as you dress. A song from the nightclub that would repeat every thirty minutes. Hanging your towel to dry and stepping up to turn the knob of the door, you inhale sharply. 

You step out with a gun in hand, you scan the room with your weapon raised. You pause. Your lips gloss had fallen off the vanity. 

You exhale. Placing the gun against your bedside table in irritation and stuffing your makeup in its bag. 

After a cup of tea, you start to fall asleep, feeling as if you were exhausted. Your eyes flutter closed, so unlike you. You didn't sleep well at all, it was a miracle your eyes closed for more than a minute at a time.

Wait. 

You wake up with the feel of his gaze from the corner of the room. You could hear his breathing. Soft and consistent. He shifts in his seat from the vanity table. You open your eyes slowly, groggy from whatever he had given you. 

Your eyes were blurry, you could barely move. His legs spread further, the small table lamp illuminating half of his face and the hand holding your gun against the table. You would scoff if you could, as if you could walk up and take it. 

You groan, willing your body to move from its side to lay on your back, your sheets shift as you attempt to sit up. You fail, slumping against the pillows in an awkward position. 

Your ghost just watches, face curious. You arch a brow as he leans forward with his elbows on his knees. He inhales slowly and deeply, eyes never leaving yours, hands squeezing as they interlace together. 

He groans. The whole room smelled of you, he closed his eyes for a moment to take it in. He just couldn’t get you out of his damn head. He has dreams, sometimes nightmares with you in them. His hand cupping yours as you hold a revolver, pressing your finger against the trigger with his own as you aimed it at a faceless woman. He’d hold you afterward, hands intertwined as his lips peppered kisses over your forehead, leading down your cheek, your jaw, making your skin tingle as he licked a path with his tongue down your throat. 

He’d stuff your cunt with his cock, holding you from behind, your legs spreading as you moan into him, your head burying itself into the crook of his neck. 

He remembers these moments in his sleep, as if encouraging him to search for something. Maybe search for you. He knows who he is, on paper. James Buchanan Barnes. He knows who you are too. All that he’s done to you, all you’ve done to him.

Then there’s Steven Grant Rogers. He knows that he was important to him. But, he doesn’t think he would understand him as well as you did. He was stuck. 

Bucky, James, The Winter Soldier, Comrade, Soldat. He rubs his temple as he stands, pacing near the end of your bed. Your eyes track him. You fight sleep, your eyes starting to close. What did he want? Every time you blinked it was getting harder and harder to open them up again. 

He was wearing a jacket, a grey shirt, dark washed jeans, and thick boots. They didn’t fit him quite well, who knows where he could have gotten them from. A donation bin, a safehouse nearby. You hoped he had a warm place to stay at night.

You make a noise, a mumble tumbling from your lips, sounding like a moan. You close your eyes, they stay closed for ten seconds before lazily opening again. He’s made his way across the bedroom, sitting next to you. He cups your cheek, your eyes flutter. His hands were cold.  

You blink and you can't open your eyes anymore. 

…

Colmar, France

1986

He sits on the edge of the bed and watches. Your lungs burn with every breath. Tears drag down your cheeks, gathering near the back of your neck. Monitors beep, your fingers twitch from the sedative. 

He scared you to no end. It was one of the last training sessions of the week. The Red Room had come up with this idea. They could train widows, such as yourself, to become more efficient with the help of the deadliest assassin alive. 

The Winter Soldier was not kind to you. They expected you to die within the month. But you were always different, you weren’t trained from birth. They wanted to stretch the limits of molding the perfect weapon. 

Experiments, mithridatism, training, graduation. You survived it all as a relatively unskilled early adult. You were supposed to be proof that building a broader network could work as efficiently as raising it. 

His hand lays over yours gently, the same one that had struck you so hard you thought you had gone blind for a second. You glare at him. He lifts it, minding the wires. He holds your hand softly, knowing that the doctors would come to check on you in about ten minutes. 

He was offering you comfort. 

The softness peturbs you. A sorry couldn't heal broken bones, or ripped flesh. You exhale softly, it burns. It wasn’t his fault. You feel his pulse, fingers tightening over his wrist. 

Your glare softens. You close your eyes and rest against the stiff pillow. It wasn’t his fault.

…

4:00 A.M. 

New York

July 5, 2014 

He lifts your hand and presses his lips to your knuckles as you sleep. The back of your hands were soft, he rubs his cheek against them. Your breath was even, your chest rising and falling in your unconscious state.

He adjusts you in a comfortable position, fluffing your pillows as he lifts your head to his chest lightly. He trails his nose over your hairline as he cups the back of your head. He groans. Both in satisfaction and annoyance. 

His body was out of sorts. He couldn’t control himself very well. It was like it was trying to stabilize itself. He gets hard at the mere thought of you now. 

He tugs his boots off neatly, placing them together beside your bed frame. Your body melded into his as he laid you against him. His heart pounds rapidly, his throat was threatening to close as your weight was supported against him. 

He was going to ask you questions. That was the plan he promised himself he would keep. He thinks he upped the dosage too much. Oh well. Now all he wanted was to hold you, his hands run back and forth over your back, your head buried in his neck. 

He can feel your breath on his throat.

Your legs were spread over his hips. His cock was aching, he felt his boxers wet with his pre cum. He licks his lips. Your ass was peeking from your sleep shorts. His hand smooths over the plump flesh, you’ve gained some weight, healthy weight. He liked it. 

His hand tightens, your skin was like bread dough, spreading over his fingers. His hips twitch upward as he instinctively presses yours down, the seam of your shorts press against the zipper of his jeans. He moans as he feels your mound grind against his bulge. 

Sweat collects along his brow, he licks his lips as he hesitates. It wouldn’t hurt anyone, he’ll be quick. 

He pushes his jeans down, leaving him in his boxers. His cock was pulsing in his grip, his jerks becoming uncontrolled and sporadic. He pushes your shorts to the side, his tip purple with pressure, he leans his head back as he presses his cockhead against the seam of your panty covered pussy. 

He imagines sinking in, his cock too big for him to get balls deep at first. He’d work you open, holding you up by your hips, allowing you to take him inch by inch until your cunt meets his pelvis. 

You make a noise from the back of your throat as he presses against your clit. Heavy, hot, and wet puffs meet his neck as he continues to grind against you. His hips thrust upward, his metal hand holding your hip in place as you start to moan and shake against him too. 

He was so close, he felt his stomach tighten, his cock pulse in need. Fuck. He lifts the fabric of your underwear and slides his cock in between your lips, he consistently bumps up onto your clit as he bear hugs your upper torso and thrusts upwards. 

You shake softly against him, a garbled moan coming from your throat as he feels your opening pulse and gush. He loses himself. His head was buried in your hair, taking a deep breath as he came inside of your panties, his cum making a mess of your cunt and mound. 

He could feel your heart beat like a hummingbird’s, your breaths coming out in puffs. And yet your eyes are still closed, your breath calms as he smooths his palm over your back soothingly. 

He cleans you with a soft towel and warm water. He positions you to lay comfortably in your sleep and puts his boots back on. 

He leaves quickly after. 

…

New York

November 27, 2014

You take your gloves off, placing them on the coffee table. Thanksgiving was pleasant. Natasha had managed to get you into Avengers tower. Tony Stark had made a show of a holiday. It was an event full of loners without families. It made you chuckle. 

Steve dropped you off on his motorcycle. It seemed as if he was waiting for you to invite him up to your apartment, or at least he was gathering the courage to tell you something by the way he leaned against his bike with his hands in his pockets. 

You gave him a hug and shooed him away quickly when you had noted the window slightly ajar in your apartment. You never open your windows. The smog, you’d argue.

You sigh as you take off your shoes. You stride to the window and close it shut aggressively.  

“Have you eaten yet?” 

You get no response, you tense. If it wasn’t him, it could be someone else. And you had a lot of enemies. You make your way to the kitchen calmly and pull a handle from the knife block Sam had gifted you a month ago, seeing as you didn’t have any proper cooking utensils.  

You turn and are met with a solid wall of chest, you swipe before you could fully process the situation but a hand stops you. Metal. You dropped your knife as he turned your wrist roughly. A shot of electricity shoots up your arm. 

His eyes are apologetic as he steps back, and watches as you clutch your hand in slight pain. 

Habit. 

“Jesus…” you mutter, your thumb rubbing along your wrist soothingly. You glare at him with a glance as you cross over to the living room. You turn on your lamp, it illuminates the small area in a shade of orange. It was cheap, you didn’t mind it. 

He takes in the small apartment you call home, finally able to see it in proper lighting. He’s been reading up on the files. Your report said you originated from California. Your close relatives have long gone. You barely had any personal items in the small living room. As if you were ready to leave at a moment's notice. 

He steps towards you, you step back. You look at him inquisitively. He hasn't frequented your apartment since the time he drugged you to sleep. It was a nice sleep, you had to give it to him. Really nice. 

“I’m leaving.”

You say nothing, just giving him a slow nod. He should have left weeks ago. The government was looking for him, Hydra must be too. You at least had connections to the Avengers, they couldn’t outright kill you on a random tuesday anymore. 

“Come with me,” he says confidently, his blue eyes piercing. 

You stare at him. He steps closer, his hands fidget nervously at your silence. Clearly he thought it would go smoothly.

He swallows thickly and his hand cups your cheek, looking into your eyes sincerely. 

“Out of the U.-”

“He’s looking for you, Bucky,” you interrupt harshly. 

Something ferocious flashes in his eyes as you call him Bucky. It didn’t sound exactly right. It was familiar. It was foreign to your tongue though. He wasn’t Bucky to you. Although sometimes you wish he was. This person in front of you, it felt as if he didn’t belong with you. 

Steve talks about this Bucky all of the time. The dancer, the flirt, the soldier with morals. He was pure and bright. He was happy. Happier. 

“I don’t even know who that is. Who the hell is Bucky? I don’t even remember who Steve Rogers is.” 

You shake your head, he grabs your chin. 

“I remember you.”

Your face falls. You wished he didn’t. Sometimes you wish you could forget him. Turns out you were both haunting each other. You clear your throat and look away, your face and voice neutral as you speak.

“Steve will help you remember. He’s your friend.” 

He sighs. His hand drops down to his side. He takes that as a no to his offer. He looks to you desperately, he’s lost. He needed someone familiar. 

You bite your lip and sigh in defeat. You move towards him, as if he were a feral dog, slow and soft. 

Your gentle hand on his chest was warm, you stood in front of him, looking him over, your eyes rounded in concern. 

“You eating good?” you mutter. You knew the answer. His shirts have filled in. Even if you weren’t willing to go on the run with him now, you still cared. 

He snorts. You look up in surprise as he smiles down at you. Hydra was definitely not a five star restaurant. Your lips betray you and tilt upwards at his sarcastic gaze. Of course he was eating well. 

Both of your hands cup his face now, exploring this new version of him. He hasn’t shaved in a while, his hair was up in a bun. He looked well enough. His hand meets your waist and pulls you closer. He leans down. 

“I missed you.” 

You were gone for two years. Two years he’s had to endure alone. He rests his forehead against yours. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper back. He smiles and shakes his head. You shouldn’t be sorry. You escaped. Now he did too. You were both free. He kisses your cheek and straightens up to pull you closer into a hug. 

You stay in place for a while, your hand wound tightly onto the back of his shirt, his pressing your head against his chest. Clinging to each other. 

You tilt your head up after a while. 

“I know a place you could go.” 

…

He opens the pack you had forced upon him. It included a pistol, a knife, some rope. Packs of old granola bars and plenty of cash.

The front pocket had something solid. He opens it up to find a burner phone. His hand turns the small brick phone as passengers board the train. 

The contact list included several names. Sam, Natasha, Barton, Steve. He makes it a point in his head to never call those numbers. 

He sees your name at the bottom, newly added. He smiles. He wonders how long you've been planning on giving him the bag.

Boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom. I louve et yiessss. Let me know what ya'll think! Sending love.

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

-Alejandra 💋 🐇

Taglist 🫶:

@vxllys

[currentfandomkick]

Okay adding on?

Danny’s assassins are loyal to him, yes, but also Still Actively Killing For Money and to protect the environment.

Danny is 100% on board with this, especially to help with environmental projects Sam mentions as part of his cover as an average american boy is a disinterest in environmental issues.

Hell, you can even add Danny using a his feral raccoon fighting from canon as an aspect of his cover Damian suggested since it would be less conspicuous and Danny mixing various styles, poses and moves willy nilly to further himself from being caught as the revived Danyal al Ghul.

Damian and Danny possibly getting the idea to change this radically and divorce the losing twin fron OG identity this far from what Talia did to reboot Jason’s brain in the pitts when he was semi-catatonic after waking up in his grave, and Jason getting assassin training that wildly changed his own fighting style.

Hell, instead of damian making his own League of Shadows, follow up with Damian wanting to retire from vigilante activities to study medicine and become a doctor as “i have done more harm and violence than most already, both times fighting for a greater good. This time i want to use my hands to heal.”

Have this parallel Danny as the Guardian of the Gate/his second death being what stabilized the portal with his second botched revival making him a halfa whose job it is to balance both sides… and him getting a reputation on the Ghost Side as a protector of co-habitation, an ally when distressed and someone who is healing the rift between ecto and carbon relations by meeting you where you are and setting the bar.

Danny is leading both sides by modeling how ecto entities beed to be mindful in carbon spaces (think world made of tissue paper speech from superman) while carbons/humans are seeing a helpful ghost in Phantom while Fenton shows himself willing to talk to numerous ghosts in interviews about themselves, why they are there (vacation, missed their old haunts from when they were alive, their door is on this side, ext.,), what they are doing (obsession related or not) and humanizing ghosts and their blatant difficulty realizing humans = fragile.

Move this to WHY the reveal went wrong when Danny tries, first calling his assassins nearby, just in case, and letting Sam and Tucker meet them As His People this time.

I must emphasize, Tucker Knew they were Danny’s somehow, but not the exact relationship.

Danny is a diplomat between the Infinite Realms (Nursery section) and Amity Park as Phantom and Fenton. This is a stressor and strain on his relationship with the Fentons.

He does let Damian know first long before he does, and they check his Bug Out plan many times before he admits to being Phantom and what the IR is like.

But the Fentons hear this thing is a facsimile of their son who died years ago and they never noticed. Their guilt over his death and how their machine and lack of safety did Danny in shuts down and productive conversation. Their son is dead. Their son is dead and this ecto scum replaced him as it happened, and Thinks its their dead son.

They dont kill him. Dont hunt him. But they drive him away.

Danny leaves with his assassins following him, Sam and tucker giving him tech supplies for their conversations and safe meetup date in the future (gotham location, Sam coordinated with Damian for that while Tucker pulled strings with his estranged grandma in the government, Nana Mandy (amanda waller) to look into Fenton’s ethics and how scientific the GIW and Fentons work was).

Danny makes it to Gotham, half his assassins were acting as bodyguards Jazz, Sam and Tucker with rotating schedules while the other half helped Danny to Gotham.

At 15 years old, Danny and Damian reunite for the first time in person.

Damian forgot his family’s tendency to tag him with trackers that transmit sound.

“So i have a portion of my people working out portal dismanteling given its my grave and i can feel it, my new family that isn’t team bigotry have rotating guards now until they can safely get here, and my team is otherwise sticking to me until I can work out the next steps.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to meet Father Danyal?”

“Two father figures have tried killing me already, and two mother figures were willing to let it happen. Let’s not go three for three on wildly disappointing parents.”

Damian hummed at that. “Father is rather vexed by my desire to retire and follow my grandfathers in their careers.”

Danyal huffed, shuffling in the safehouse. “Another reason not to meet him—most families are thrilled about their kids becoming doctors. If he’s mad at you for that, pretty sure he’d try to sever the ecto-carbon bond i have going on or try to abuse my Prince Regent role in the IR for some protect the earth thing. They’re my people to protect too, and i won’t have that conmpromised by a furry with a god complex as bad as Grandfather’s.”

“Point taken. How are your subjects taking to the reforms?”

“Ugh. The eyeball brigade are pissed I freed Clocky so he can focus on timeline integrity and stability rather than manipulating things for their benefit. Oh, let me know if you want to study with Frostbite though, he’s my doctor and is one of a handful of ghosts that knows how halfas work that wasn’t purged by Pariah.”

“Perhaps—are you sure my learning magic wouldnt step on your toes?”

“Dami, i am not stopping my people from revenge kills, hiding graves, and protecting sacred sites on top of the usual stuff. I’m still surprised you havent gone full wizard with how much you loved the spellbooks.”

“Father disapproves.”

“Sounds like dad’s a bitch. Anyway, tuck is getting his grandma involved in detoothing the GIW and i may or may not be enabling Sam’s eco terrotist tendencies when she comes up.”

“Doctor Isley is mostly retired from being a rogue.”

“You underestimate Sam. I did too until i learned better. Fear the girl in a bob with an obsession with purple. They are out for blood.”

“… you may have a point about the purple part. Brown is a nightmare for most and turns everything into a weapon.”

Meanwhile Jason is cackling as Bruce’s other kid; wants nothing to do with him, rules another dimension(?), is anti-slavery and enables a number of things that are crimes but not necessarily morally wrong. Jason is team Danyal in this now—no further context needed.

Dick is processing Bruce being mad at Damian for wanting to retire from violence to go into being a doctor still, and plotting how to manipulate Bruce into fixing his fuck up. And meeting his other brother.

Tim is not present as YJ mission he’s helping with.

Stephanie is impressed by Damian ans Danyal’s management of this and Danyal’s fear of girls that like purple.

Duke is asleep, and liable to vibe with Danny to an ungodly degree from mutual gremlin energy, and have Danny’s skeleton army properly unionized between discussing where to move the boy’s grave/Fenton Portal.

Babs is Busy with the birds of prey.

Cass? About to drop in on this conversation, but managing Bruce instead.

Bruce is panicking, trying to storm the safehouse only for Cass to keep him in line. Go Cass!

Anything i miss or direction this should pull in? Im leaning to danny existing in gotham and it getting back to Ra’s that Danny is alive and well, took over a dimension on his own and Damian is intent on learning who he is outside of violence while Batfam are doing their own things and try to help at times but clash with Danny (who never stopped being a mercenary in his own mind but is very selective with targets) and his personal assassins/personnel he took from Ra’s.

This can escalate into LOA vs Danny’s Side (including Damian) trying to manage sans Batfam, while Batfam is trying to absorb Danny but offput by danny’s continued ‘premeditated murder is justified in a number of circumstances’ take. Damian can even start backsliding as a habit around Danyal/Danny if you want that additional conflict of Damian not wanting to kill and him killing As A Civilian during a situation and spiralling in private beifre getting BatLectured with Danyal going ‘the fuck did you want him to do? Let them kill him? Fuck off old man!’ Response

Twins till the End

DP x DC Prompt

I've seen different fics of Danny and Damian not knowing each other was alive/in Gotham, and I thought that a different flavor of Demon Twins should he made, I do hope someone can make this into a fic.

Danyal and Damian are inseparable and make a deadly duo. Damian is the twin who has combat and weapon efficiency as his strengths, and Danyal has stealth and crafting as his strengths. Danyal can make anything into a useful tool for just about anything.

When Ra's had ordered a battle to the death between both of them, the twins had quickly hatched a plan to have the "loser" be revived when no one was in the Lazarus Pit chamber.

Danyal was the one to lose their duel, and when Damian had brought his twins body to be revived, a few loyal Assassins had aided him. When Danyal left the League with a few of the loyal Assassins, he had given Damian a communicator for them to talk to each other at specific dates, just to make sure that each other is okay and to briefly talk about what's happened to them.

Things happen relatively normally for both of them, Danny became a Halfa, Damian became Robin, Danny became the Ghost King, and Damian has started his own League of Shadows when he gained more followers from the League of Assassins.

After a bad reveal, Danny is able to escape the Fentons with the help of the Assassins that had gone with him. Danny had told them to go back and see if his sister and friends were okay and to bring them to Gotham if they were.

Now Danny and Damian are gonna have to explain why Danny was kept a secret from Bruce all this time.

[c4hr4yz3e]

George Clarkey Dating a Law Student Headcannons

This is shit, but it's been sitting in my drafts for months and I felt like posting something. If yall have any specific ones you'd like to see like George dating a ___ student or George dating ___ profession, feel free send me a request!! I did get a few requests in - I will start working on these after my uni exams!

Warnings: I think like 1 swear, 2 slightly NSFW prompt but nothing too explicit, shit formatting :D

George Clarkey x Fem!Reader

___________________________________________________________

He is always bragging about you. He thinks you’re such a kind-hearted, hard-working person and isn’t afraid to tell the entire world.

“Yeah, my missus is studying law. Oh, she’s incredible."

He is not afraid for anyone to know how whipped he is for you.

We know how up-to-date and interested he is in what his sister studied/es, so he's absolutely the same for you, if not more. Best believe he always remembers what you're studying at any given time, and remembers little tidbits of everything.

Brings you snacks, tea, and coffee when you’re studying late or doing assignments because he wants to make sure you’re eating and drinking enough.

If you go to the bathroom or just step out to do something, he'll refill your mug so you have a fresh cup when you get back.

If you've been having a stressful time and he's streaming, he'll go check on you every couple of hours to make sure you're okay. ("Hang on chat, I gotta go check on my girl real quick.")

You guys often make dinner together, considering it one of your 'couple traditions'. But whenever one of you is busy, the other surprises them with dinner. Mid study session he'll pop his head through the door like "Dinner'll be up in about 15 minutes, lovey. Finish up for a bit and come eat with me?"

You don't even have to be working - you could be curled up in bed for a lazy evening and movie. He'll slip away mid-movie without a word and come back half an hour later with a warm meal, a bottle of wine, and a sweet treat for dessert. He LOVES acts of service, and doesn't expect any praise or acknowledgement from them. He almost views them as a 'non-neogotiable'; the George Clarke Package just includes it and he will hear no arguments.

Is genuinely super interested in your work and your day. Every night during dinner he’ll ask about your day and listen intently while you go through it all.

He’ll sit and listen while you think out loud when working through legal problems. Won't try and interrupt (unless you ask, of course) - he just lets you have your moment. How your mind works absolutely fascinates him. Definitely smiles to himself unconsciously when you have your 'ah-ha' moment

100% would roleplay being your client or something if it helped you, even if he doesn’t really know what he’s doing. He’d probably insist on making up different characters and giving them different accents.

“Where is my character from?”

“It doesn’t really matter, honey. You’re just a generic person.”

“This character kind of sounds like an arsehole... French it is.”

Yes, it makes it more difficult to do the task with a straight face, but he loves making you smile.

“George, did you know that you legally cannot steal a pigeon?” “…Darling on a completely unrelated note, how would you feel about a pet?”

Will check on you while you’re studying to make sure you’re having breaks.

“Come have a cup of tea with me, love. You deserve a little break.”

Drives him insane when you study with a messy bun and one of his hoodies. And if you wear glasses? God help this man

Absolute study buddy king. Helps you with flashcards, quizzes, the whole nine yards. He does try to make it more lighthearted, because that is his nature, but if you really need him to he will knuckle down and be serious.

If you do a quiz, 10/10 will be Game Show Host George. Half the time you have to convince him not to break out the rainbow sequin suit he (for some reason) owns.

Definitely tries to turn it into cheeky drinking or strip games, but he reads you like a book and knows whether you're in the right frame of mind for that. Would never presssure you into anything, but he may encourage you to unwind and enjoy yourself a little, particularly if you've been stressed recently.

I cannot stress this enough; he is so proud of you. He knows how stressful of an industry it is, and if you’re putting yourself through university he just admires you that much more. You genuinely inspire him to work hard and achieve his goals (and he is not afraid to tell you or anyone else this).

He remembers a random tidbits of what you tell him. Like he’d definitely be with his friends and they’d say something incorrect or inaccurate, and he just has an “Erm, actually☝️🤓” moment in his signature cocky sort of way. (he kind of loves showing off that he remembers things)

Already campaigning for you to be a consultant of some sort for the podcast.

George: "She'd be pefect, honestly. We gotta hire her."

Max: "I am really not the person to be talking to about this."

George: "But then we'd be able to work together!"

You: "I'm not even registered yet, George."

George: "But when you are, boom! Immediate job! Not that you'd need help getting one but surely working on the world's best podcast would be great on the ol resume, eh?"

Max: "Ah yes, because of all the legal problems we experience on a daily basis?"

George: "Well with the shit we talk about, wouldn't be surprised if something comes up one of these days."

Absolutely invites you on YouTube Court, and just sits back and watches with the biggest smile as you deliver the most air-tight and well researched defences to the most ridiculous cases ever. Proud Boyfriend George moment. His subscribers LOVE you - George is flooded with comments and DM's asking for you to come back.

Does his judge costume from YouTube Court get used outside the videos? Perhaps. Cause let's be real, he'd be down to clown in some wacky roleplays just for shits and giggles, even if it's only for a little bit. Knowing him, he'd make some dumb, joking comment when the cameras stop rolling and it just progresses from there.

George: "So, missy. You know disrespecting the judge is a criminal offence, and I feel it's only fair to impose a punishment. Do you have anything to say for yourself before his Honour teaches you a lesson?"

Stephen: "George, we're all still here, you haven't left the Discord call yet, ya twat."

Maybe gets a little bit dejected sometimes. As much as he adores his job, he gets a bit worried that you secretly want someone who is doing something more than YouTube and content creation. But you always assure him his achievements are just as important as yours, if not more, and he’s the one for you. You're endlessly proud of him.

You definitely get on really well with ArthurTV. Being an ex-lawyer, he loves being able to give you tips and help you out. He definitely reads your papers. Not even necessarily to proofread them (although he will: "I just highlighted a couple of minor typos") or anything, he just finds them fascinating.

He definitely organises date nights, both spontaneous and planned (after consulting your shared calendar, of course). He likes to find the cutest and chilliest things for you guys to do; think mini-golf, arcading, and movie marathons. He also loves adventuring around with you to find new spots to try.

I reckon he’d put something in the calendar a week or two in advance like “Date Night <3” so it gives you time to organise yourself. But he never pressures you if you are too busy. Or organises things wayy in advance as post-exam treats or something.

George is a spontaneous guy though, so if either of you are ever free, best believe he’s taking you out or ordering takeout for a relaxing night in. After a long day, he'd message something like, "Just seen a new Italian placed opened up a few streets away. Care for a bite?"

I fully believe that you'd submit an assignment or get a good grade back and he'd immediately crank the music in the flat for an inpromtu dance-party. 10/10 ends in a sweet old-timey dance where he's spinning and dipping you around the living room before you both collapse in a fit of laughter and you order dinner. (Your pick of food, of course.)

"I'm sorry to tell you poppet, but you can't admitted as a lawyer. You know they don't allow criminals."

"I'm not a criminal?"

"You are - you're a thief!"

"???"

"You've stolen my heart."

"Oh my days."

For some reason, he just kind of assumes that you read the Terms and Conditions on absolutely everything.

"Oh yeah? Well my girlfriend's a lawyer, and she'll sue your ass!" (he says this a LOT. no matter how many times you try to correct him)

If something happens when you go out, like the boys get bombarded or followed by fans or something, ask them to leave. If it's really bad, and you have to throw in like a "Don't make me press charges for harassment," #proudboyfriendgeorge is just standing across from you like "Yes slayy girl queen! Serving absolute professional-lawyer-puss over 'ere!" (he's a bit drunk atp)

"Y/n, Simon murdered me via Among Us. Can I press charges?"

When you graduate, you best believe he's in the closest row possible with the biggest bouquet of flowers ever.

Definitely has a lil something to remind him of you on his Useless Hotline desk. It'd be something subtle like a lego car you guys built together, or a gift you bought him.

If Max asks you to come on the podcast, George is so excited. George normally sits next to Max when they have a podcast guest. Not when you're there. He's right beside you, hand resting on your thigh just out of camera shot, smiling lovingly as Max asks you about your degree and life with George.

All in all, he's so proud of you and loves telling anyone who will listen that his lady is a badass lawyer.

[demie90s]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Request: @draculara-vonvamp

IM BACK AGAIN

okay i have another idea where like yk reader actually gets into a physical fight on the court with a player who fouls one her teammates way to fucking hard, im talking bout body slammed so hard they forget they name typa stuff and reader gets heated badddd.

I need fist flying reader whooping ass and the team having to pry her off the person and being in awe of how fucking strong reader is.

lalso need reader to go on live and talk shit bad, like basically risking her whole career shit talking because she doesn't play about her team like that, like on some Kendrick Lamar and Drake beef shit talking stuff, taking it to a whole psychological level.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oh…okay twin..I gotchu.😭

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Not One Damn Was Given

UConn x fem!reader

MASTERLIST | MORE

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: You throw hands on the court after a player body-slams your teammate. Fists fly. The team’s in shock. Hours later, reader hits IG Live and drags the other team with career-ending energy.

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: Sports drama, fight scene, unhinged loyalty

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: Physical violence, strong language, career-threatening Live, psychological warfare

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: ~ 0.7k

ᴠɪʙᴇ: “Nah, cause why she still on the court?” / “She shoulda never touched her.” / “This ain’t basketball no more. This is war.”

I knew I was gonna swing before her body even hit the floor.

She went up for the layup, our freshman, smallest on the team—pure heart, no fear. She was in the air, and that girl came barreling in like it was WWE. Elbow to the ribs. Full body slam. You ever hear the sound of someone getting the wind knocked out of them and it just… echoes?

That sound stopped my heart. She didn’t get up. And I didn’t think.

I dropped my mouthguard. Spit it right onto the hardwood. Took three steps across the court—and I don’t remember blinking.

I just swung.

Connected with her jaw so hard her ponytail whipped in slow motion. She stumbled back and I followed. Got her in the stomach, shoulder, cheek—clean combos. I felt the bones under my knuckles and didn’t give a single damn.

The ref tried to step in. I shoved him. Hard. His whistle flew clean out his mouth.

My team was yelling, but I barely heard it over the roar of the crowd and my own heartbeat banging in my ears.

KK grabbed my jersey from behind—couldn’t budge me.

Aaliyah tried to pin my arms, yelling, “Let it go!” Didn’t work. Even Geno came off the sideline. Geno. He put both arms around my shoulders, tried to haul me off like a bouncer. Still wasn’t enough.

“GET OFF ME!” I growled, still reaching for her. “She ain’t done payin’ yet—SHE TOUCHED ONE OF MINE!”

The other girl was on the floor now. Crying? I don’t know. I didn’t care. I wasn’t thinking about cameras or fines or what Twitter was gonna say. I was seeing red.

It took the ref, Geno, and half the team to finally drag me away.

I’m talking Nika wrapped around my waist like a seatbelt, Ashlynn holding my forearm like it owed her money, Bri standing between me and the other team with her arms out like she was about to square up.

By the time they got me to the bench, my chest was heaving. Hands shaking. I had blood on my knuckles, and I don’t know if it was hers or mine.

⸻

They tried to talk to me after. Coaches. Refs. Media handlers. I wasn’t hearing it. My girl got laid out like a crash test dummy and y’all expected me to stand there with my hands behind my back?

Hell no.

⸻

Later That Night. I’m in my room, lights off, hoodie on. Still hyped. Still angry. I go on Live.

Didn’t even announce it. Just clicked in. Face half in the shadows. Jaw set.

Viewers piled in immediately. Comments flying.

“WHAT HAPPENED?”

“YOU REALLY SWUNG???”

“YO YOU MIGHT GET SUSPENDED.”

I leaned forward. Calm as hell.

“Let’s be clear,” I said. “To that bitch.—you touch one girl on this team—I’m putting belt to ass. Like you big box built hoe knowing she smaller then yo ass. You WEIRD!!!”

I adjusted my hood.

“I’m not gonna stand there and watch one of my teammates get slammed to the floor like a rag doll and do nothing. Y’all want professionalism? Cool. But respect comes before that. And when I don’t see it? I remove the problem.”

The chat went crazy.

“She calling herself the enforcer 💀”

“Ngl I support the violence.”

I kept going.

“You think you’re tough? Cool. But if you foul dirty, just know I’m not built like y’all. I don’t jog back to the bench. I handle it. Right then and there.”

Paused. Scrolled.

Saw someone write: “She throwing her whole career away for the team??”

I smiled. Crooked.

“That’s what y’all don’t get. This ain’t just basketball to me. These girls? They’re mine. I don’t play about that. So if throwing hands makes me unprofessional—then I guess I’m just an unprofessional ass bitch. But nobody—and I mean NOBODY—touches my team and walks away grinning.”

“She should’ve been subbed out. She should’ve been benched. But y’all let her play violent. So I matched her energy. And I won.”

Then I hit the camera with that final line.

“And before y’all ask—no. I’m not clearing shit. I meant every word. Say something slick again and I’ll show you I meant every punch too.”

Clicked out. Left the whole internet shaking.

They told us to be at the gym by 7:30. No explanation. Just a mass text.

“Team meeting. Mandatory. No exceptions.” —Geno.

I showed up at 7:34, dragging my slides across the hardwood, hoodie on, hood up, and a plastic cup of iced coffee in one hand like I just got done committing a felony. Everyone else was already there—seated, awkward, silent.

KK looked like she hadn’t slept. Paige was chewing her nail. Nika wouldn’t even look at me. They were all on edge. I wasn’t.

I sat down in my usual spot, kicked my feet up on the folding chair in front of me, and took a loud sip of my drink.

Jana leaned over and whispered, “Girl… be serious.”

“I am,” I muttered. “Seriously annoyed I had to wake up early for a lecture I don’t care about.”

That’s when Geno walked in.

He didn’t even look at us. Just walked to the whiteboard and uncapped the marker like he was seconds from dragging everyone into hell.

“Y/n,” he said, without turning around, “you gonna speak or should I pull up the IG Live on the projector?”

The room went dead. I stared. Blinked. Took another sip.

“You want me to lie?” I asked. “Or you want the real version?”

He turned around slowly. His eyes were tired. Real tired.

“Give me the version where you don’t say fuck every five words.”

I set the cup down.

“She bodyslammed our girl. Y’all watched it happen. Nobody moved. Nobody said shit. So I handled it. Like I always do. Am I proud of it? I don’t know. Did I regret it? Not for a second.”

No one said anything. Even Geno was quiet. Then finally, he sighed. Ran a hand down his face.

“You’ve got a media fine coming and possibly a suspension. They’re not happy upstairs.”

I shrugged.

“Good thing I don’t play for upstairs.”

That got a little snicker outta Nika. Even Paige covered her mouth. But Geno just stared at me. Real long. Then he pointed at the door.

“Take a break. Before I say something wild.”

I stood up. Grabbed my coffee. Nudged my chair with my knee like it offended me.

“Cool,” I said. “I didn’t wanna be here anyway.”

I walked out like I owned the place. Not ‘cause I didn’t care. Because I meant it. Every punch. Every word. Every threat on that Live.

I wasn’t their favorite. But I was the one who’d throw hands for them. And deep down? They loved me for it.

[artbyblastweave]

after reading Peter Clines Ex-Heroes pentalogy I can confidentiality say that Danielle Harris is one of the coolest heroes ever, what do you think of her?

^This lady So what I like about Danielle Morris/Cerberus is that she's a take on the Iron Man archetype in the context of an otherwise deliberately incredibly low-budget superhero universe, a setting where, with the exception of one millionaire, the superhero population consists almost entirely of working-class people in kludged-together wetsuits and motorcycle leathers who only get away with their low-rent costumes by virtue of the fact that they do, in fact, have incredibly potent superpowers. This is a hard circle to square, aesthetically, if you also want to introduce a hero who uses power armor, because that shit's expensive.

The solution? Cerberus doesn't debut after the other half of the book's elevator pitch, the zombie apocalypse, is already well under way. The fact that there's only one set of the armor despite the extensive documentation that must exist is due to the fact that the armor is a prototype, slated for eventual mass production but hastily deployed as a show of force by a rapidly disintegrating military that's at the point of just throwing whatever they've got at the wall to see what sticks. The typically-inadvisable trope of the suit's chief engineer also being the field pilot is initially justified by the fact that she's the only person left who knows how to operate it; and then by her reluctance to train a second person on how to operate it because she comes to be psychologically dependent on the physical protection it provides her. Protection that's at least somewhat illusory, to boot, because if you take a shot for every time the suit very realistically suffers a power failure or mechanical failure at a crucial juncture, you're going to lose your liver. The collapse of the logistics network impedes the armor's ability to work at full capacity almost from the start; those bracers on her arms in the above illustrations are for .50 Caliber machine guns that ran quickly out of ammo after her first skirmish and had to be mothballed. The series is very clear that Cerberus wouldn't be viable in the long run if she weren't on a team with several other superhumans, including an electrokinetic and a technopath, who can help cover the suit's weak points. Ironic, given the implication that the original point of Cerberus was so the army would have an answer to those same people. Overall, the armor is paradoxically portrayed as both viable and nonviable.

One of the really interesting things about Ex-Heroes's worldbuilding is that superheroes numbered in the dozens before the apocalypse, but supervillains only start to emerge in any real numbers after the apocalypse, when the prospect of being able to start a fiefdom or a cult of personality without someone noticing and coming to kick your shit are significantly greater; before that, criminals with powers mostly kept what they were capable of on the down low because there was no sane reason to adopt the kind of comic-book classic presentation that would call a superhero down on their heads. Thus the quiet thesis of the series is that quite a bit of classic superheroic nonsense would be actively facilitated by the end of the world and the collapse of society; the incentives and the restrictions would change, but heroism would remain pointedly necessary. Cerberus is also part of this quiet thesis. The perpetual tension of Tony Stark is that we know him to exist in a world full of cultural, legal and logistical restrictions, against which the specific fantasy of being Iron Man would inevitably run aground. Cerberus, as a superheroic identity, never existed alongside any of that. It's way easier to be a knight errant or a lone ranger if that's the only version of those things left that anyone can be.

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

May I get your thoughts, opinions, and ideas on Èowyn's reaction to the situation she found in with Grima? Do you think it was at all possible that Théodred and/or Éomer, realizing the danger she was specifically in, tried to send her away someplace safer, away from Edoras, and she said no because she refused to leave them and her Uncle? I don't think it was discussed extensively in the book how it all went down in the decline of Théoden's health and household, but I know you've thought about it. Would you be willing to share your headcanons? 😊

Personally I know Grima is a creep with considerable influence, but I've also had trouble thinking of Èowyn has a caged bird with zero power surrounding her own fate. True, she was limited in what she could do and in how people perceived her, but I could never see her as helpless. I always thought she was more trapped in her own depression and discontentment. 🤷‍♀️ Grima would certainly never have been able to physically overpower her. Was the danger to her really just that her loved ones might be stripped away from her?

Again I guess I just have a hard time thinking of Théodred and Èomer not keeping a closer watch over her and taking extra steps to keep her safe, if they realized that she was a target.

Sorry for the rambling! 😂 I know you can explain your own thoughts in a more organized way that I do!

My answer to this got MUCH longer than I expected. I found that I had to kind of walk through it systematically to make it (hopefully) clear, and that made it very long. Sorry!! 😬 (Also, this answer is all rooted in the books, not films.)

As in most situations in life, I think the dynamics here are nuanced, complicated and sometimes contradictory. It would have been much more straightforward if all Éowyn had to worry about was herself, if she (or others) had the unfettered freedom to act in accordance with what was best for her, and if there weren’t social/cultural expectations that worked against her interests. But that wasn’t the deal at the time.

As a threshold matter, I 100% agree that I cannot see Éowyn as helpless and weak, because we know she wasn’t. She was smart, strong, trained to fight and incredibly brave. If Gríma had eventually tried to cross some invisible line that she had devised for herself, there’s no way he could have physically overpowered her without significant outside help. But even though I think she could have flattened him in a one-on-one fight, I don’t think that advantage would have helped her much in her day to day life, because hurting or killing him wasn’t a realistic way to deal with the threat he posed.

When we meet him, Gríma has quite a lot of power. He has Théoden’s clear support (not obtained through clean means, but he has it nonetheless), and he operates with the king’s authority, uses his resources and issues orders in his name. To mess with Gríma, then, is to mess with the will of the king, and that’s illegal and even treasonous. If you take that step, it could mean severe punishment, including imprisonment or death. And being a member of the royal family wouldn’t necessarily protect you from that (see: Éomer getting unceremoniously jailed later in the story). So I don’t find it surprising that Éowyn (or others) would not have chosen to take on Gríma directly at the time of the story, given that it still wasn’t entirely clear exactly how evil his larger plan was and he hadn’t yet acted on his designs on her beyond being a super creepy perv who watched and followed her.

But if she couldn’t get away with harming or threatening Gríma, why didn’t she just flee instead? This is less clear but there are several potential explanations. For one, she may not have seen that as possible. If it was Théoden’s expectation that she be his nursemaid, then again, she can’t just ignore the will of her king. We don’t explicitly know if that’s the case, but he certainly didn’t seem to consider literally anyone else as a possible substitute for the care she gave (definitely not one of the boys!!). Also, let’s not forget Gandalf’s words from the Houses of Healing, where he questions whether Gríma only spoke poison into the ears of Théoden. If he instead also filled Éowyn’s mind with despairing, hopeless thoughts, he might have caused her to believe that she was irrevocably trapped. Given how desperately unhappy and imperiled she was, it seems plausible that she would have tried to run if she could, and the fact that she didn’t may suggest that she literally couldn’t or at least didn’t think that she could.

But let’s say she could have left and perceived herself as having that choice. There are still numerous reasons why she might have stayed. As you note, she presumably loved Théoden as an uncle and surrogate father and showed him a lot of loyalty and devotion. She would hardly be the first person to knowingly and willingly keep themselves in a position of danger, vulnerability and unhappiness out of concern for someone who would be left behind if they fled. So, that’s also very plausible.

Even if she had no personal affection for Théoden, though, it’s possible that she’d have been reluctant to leave him anyway. It’s worth remembering that Théodred and Éomer didn’t live in Edoras — they were based in Helm’s Deep and Aldburg, respectively, and the urgent press of duties there often kept them away. So Éowyn was the only member of the royal family to be always present with Théoden, able to keep a continuous eye on what was happening and to try to do what she could to counteract the negative daily influence of Gríma. She probably felt a sense of duty to be there, even at the cost of exposing herself to harm and finding the whole thing hateful and degrading. (Note that she DOES try to leave once Théoden is healed and she doesn’t have the duty to watch him anymore!)

Now, if her concerns were about caring for Théoden and/or blunting Gríma’s influence, there were ways to try to mitigate those concerns while still allowing her to flee, most notably by finding someone else who could step into her role. But who? Your choices are 1) someone who wasn’t in the royal family and thus was arguably in an even weaker position relative to Gríma than Éowyn was; or 2) Théodred or Éomer, who would have to give up their marshal duties to come back to Edoras full time even as conditions in the East- and West-marks were significantly deteriorating.

I can (and do) hate that Éowyn, as the female royal who lacked any other formal role within Rohan’s political and military structure, got stuck with the perilous nursemaid duties just because she was, for lack of a better word, available. I can (and do) stipulate that it was quite convenient for Théodred and Éomer that Éowyn was there and could be counted on to put her misery aside and handle things at home so that they could keep doing what they were doing. But I also acknowledge the reality and seriousness of the tasks Théodred and Éomer were undertaking — things that were central to the protection and safety of the kingdom overall and that could have been substantially harmed by the need to stop and return to Edoras. All those statements can be true at once. I don’t think Théodred and Éomer set out to disadvantage Éowyn because she was a girl, but in practice she was disadvantaged for that reason because they had official jobs that she did not and a crush of external pressures heightened the stakes of every decision such that no one felt comfortable casting aside all those formal jobs and normal ways of doing things to try a different, novel approach.

My personal interpretation of the characters’ choices is that Éowyn loved Théoden and felt a duty to Rohan. For that reason, she wasn’t going to leave him on his own in that state, no matter how unhappy, afraid or angry she was. She was also depressed, isolated and probably influenced by Gríma not to trust the other people around her. So the only way she would have agreed to give up that duty and flee was if one of the only two people she did trust — Théodred or Éomer — was back in Edoras to take the duty in her stead. But I don’t think she ever really expected that to happen because, you know, that’s just not how things worked. Marshals of the Mark had their own urgent duties and obligations, and I don’t think it’s especially likely that she expected her cousin or brother to upend established norms that way even if she wished for it. She was, sadly, resigned to this fate.

As for Théodred and Éomer, I think those two judged that the threat of catastrophic violence in the East and West was sufficiently high that they couldn’t abandon their commands to deal with the situation in Edoras. They instead took the very significant and calculated risk to have Éowyn handle Edoras even though she was both terribly unhappy and in danger there — not because they didn’t love her or worry about her but because they simply felt themselves to be without any choice and weren’t yet able to think enough outside of the box they were raised in to see another alternative. I think they trusted her and probably took some comfort in knowing that she had the training, skills and bravery to act at need, and I think they also enlisted the secondary help of other folks in Edoras who could keep a close watch on their behalf and come to Éowyn’s aid if events ever seemed to be getting beyond her control. Among these would be Háma and Elfhelm, both of whom are canonically fond of Éowyn, supportive of her, and close enough to be on hand in an emergency.

I would have made different choices myself, but I can see why they all made the choices they did even as I disagree. Again, all their options were bad and came with big risks. You can’t have a royal family member keeping an eye on Théoden and Gríma AND have the marshals of the Mark preventing the collapse of Rohan’s borders AND get Éowyn out of that dangerous and hateful position in Edoras. At best, you can do 2 out of those 3 at any one time. That is not an enviable place to be.

FWIW, I do think that a change in strategy was imminent in February 3019. Our heroes were going to have to become willing to do something that was previously unthinkable if they were going to overcome Gríma’s advantages (namely, his willingness to play dirty). Maybe that means murdering Gríma in an act of vigilante justice, no matter the consequence. Maybe that’s pushing Théoden from the throne since he wasn’t ruling competently. But I think they were coming to understand that SOMETHING had to change. We see in UT that it was getting increasingly common for Théodred and others to act without orders in order to thwart Gríma’s intent, and it’s a short walk from “I’m not waiting for orders” to “I don’t follow the orders you give” to “I no longer recognize your authority at all.” Perhaps even Gríma and Saruman could see this dynamic coming into shape, which is why they murdered Théodred in an attempt to head it off. So it’s possible things for Éowyn might have changed at some point soon, though we’ll never know exactly how because the unexpected arrival of Gandalf changed everything!

I’m SO SORRY that got so long. I hope ANY of it was useful at all! And of course, this is just my own two cents. There are plenty of other valid interpretations, and some of those may suit you better!

[livingfiction]

4th times the charm…My sinners Character’s Review PART 2

SMOKE:

Never saw him smile once. Not one time. I think that comes with putting the world on your shoulders all the time and I believe that’s what Smoke did, from an early age. He killed and buried his own father after he beat Stack to bad. It may seem like a no brainer to kill an abuser, but to kill your own flesh and father takes a different kind of person. I don’t mean different in a bad way but different in a you have to be strong as hell mentally to make that decision and have to carry that for the rest of your life. Because I don’t believe it was something he did out of anger or in the spur of the moment. Smoke is shown to be very calculated, practical, assertive, harsh, and stern. That was established several times over, but he is also shown to be caring, fair, supportive, thoughtful and even gentle. I feel like he asked Sammie if his father was putting his hands on him just to be sure that his uncle hadn’t gone down the path of his father even though he thought him to be a good man. I have no doubt he would’ve handled it if so. He could have of easily intimidated that young girl into watching his truck, hell even full-grown men were afraid of him. But he offered her money and even took time to teach her how to negotiate and not just accept anything. After he shot the two men, he paid to have them patched up. He didn’t show up empty handed for Annie or his child. I noticed how he gently observed the man that had got sliced across the face’s injuries before telling him he would need stitches. Someone mentioned this and it makes so much sense, but Smoke taking off the mojo bag Annie gave him at the end wasn’t because he didn’t believe, but because he had nothing left to live for with Annie gone and he didn’t want to be protected. I don’t think he was necessarily going on a suicide mission when he faced off against the Klan, like I don’t think he was TRYING to die at THEIR hands specifically, but he knew it was a good chance he would and he was ready. Because in my opinion if he simply wanted to die, he could’ve just waited around for them to show up and let them kill him. And honestly, I don’t think he would have given them the satisfaction. One thing that I really do wonder is what Smoke said to Stack to make him stop trying turn him to a vampire. Like I know Stack said he was the one person he couldn’t kill and he overpowered him at the end, and we know he made him promise to stay away from Sammie, but Stack was serious about Smoke being with him for eternity. He said he wasn’t doing this shit without him and he meant that. It’s the whole reason he bit Annie.  I know people want it to be something more but that was literally it-he thought turning Annie would automatically guarantee smoke would join him. And honestly that would have worked if Annie hadn’t made Smoke promise to free her.

STACK:

He always had a smile on his face. It was clear he was charismatic, charming, humorous, and compassionate. We even see his playful side with him shadow boxing with Sammie, his pitch to the people at the train station, him being the only one outside of cornbread to nod along with the creepy ‘Pick Poor Robin Clean’ song, and him bowing to Annie when he helped her out the truck like a gentleman (which we know he really isn’t).  I noticed that after Sammie asked him if his daddy used to beat them and said “Mostly me, but he ain’t mean it” Even after being viciously beaten by his own father, to the point where Smoke felt like he had to kill him, he still didn’t believe his father was being malicious. When the old man couldn’t pay at the bar, he was the one explaining to Smoke that the people in the Juke had worked their asses off and they needed this. They needed that moment of freedom. Smoke is the man with the plan, but Stack is the man with the idea. Remember when he said “no vision” after Smoke closed the door. It was funny, but he actually meant that. He IS the visionary. When smoke was telling the story to Sammie about how he wanted to simply go to the next plantation over, but Stack wanted to go to Mount Bayou (I think thats what they called it). He didn’t want to go live the same kind of life under the oppressive rule of white plantation owners, he wanted to go beyond and somewhere better. And when Cornbread told him he didn’t have time for Stack’s schemes. So yeah, he is clearly always plotting, which is why he bit Annie. I know people wanted him biting her to be something more romantic or sensual (which there was a sensual feel but honestly that’s just Michel and Wunmi’s electric chemistry---it was the wrong twin but they couldn’t rein it in) but honestly that was all for Smoke. A display of dominance and a “gotcha” moment. He KNEW that the easiest way to get Smoke was to get Annie first. He really did plan on them all being a family forever. Because family is everything to him. I truly believe that even with Remmick gone he would’ve still turned Sammie if not for his promise to Smoke. He still remained a supporter of his younger cousin and kept tabs on him over the course of sixty years. He still loved Sammie and he was also his last human connection to when stack himself was human. Through Mary, you see how selfless Smoke is. Because its obvious he really was in love with her, but he loved her enough to let her go to keep her safe. And in turn keep himself and his brother safe because he was willing to kill anybody that hurt her. It takes a lot of selflessness to separate from someone for THEIR own good and wellbeing.

ANNIE:

If Remmick was the villain in this story, then Annie is the Hero. She was a strong, yet gentle voice of reason and a woman of action. She wasn’t boastful or loud but she was confident in herself and her abilities. And that couldn’t have been easy. Hell, black people were thought to be devilish just for being talented musicians (Sammie), so I know Annie must have gotten her fair share of flack as a conjure woman, especially as a transplant from LA to MS, where Hoodoo was probably more normalized. She never let anyone make her believe for one second that the root work she was doing was in vain, not even Smoke. She advised Smoke right along with Stack, that he had to make people feel wanted for the Juke to work and when Remmick asked why Mary was allowed in the Juke, she immediately defended her and said that she was family. She’s also has high morals as she wouldn’t accept Smoke’s money as it was “blood” money. She truly was doing her hoodoo work to help the community and not for profit. Annie is also shown to have the courage to do the hard things. She was the one to tell Smoke that they needed to move Stack’s body. Outside of his brother, I’m sure no one knew Smoke better, so she KNEW that he had just had his soul ripped from his body. But she also knew that they HAD to do this for their safety and protection. I don’t think anyone else would have dared mentioned moving his brother. She was the one that caught on to Cornbread’s change and didn’t back down when he tried to make her seem like a crazy witch talking nonsense. Cause to be honest who else would have the nerves to tell a person that’s walking and talking and looking completely normal that they are really dead or that they’re some kind of monster? It was Annie’s quick thinking that deterred Stack when he first woke up and she was the one that informed them that the ones outside were vampires and how to defend against them.  She predicted her fate and prepared smoke and made him promise because she wanted to be with her child. If she hadn’t done that, hadn’t reminded him that they both had someone waiting on the other side, he probably wouldn’t have freed her. She was really the light in the darkness even on his dying day.

MARY:

Now what I’m about to say may ruffle some feathers, but people were really dragging it with the Mary hate. Now I'm not saying that people have to like her. She wasn’t my favorite character by far, and I understand why people may find her annoying (most self-imposing white people are) , but its like people are going out of their way and grasping at straws to hate her. Like I recently saw somebody say that she looked ridiculous at the end of the movie because of her styling/outfit , and they had to be told that it was the 90’s and then it was like “oh I forgot, well that makes sense” and it’s like DAMN you hate her so much you ignoring movie facts (I’ll touch on that more later). But it literally said 1992, plus you if you looked at how Stack was dressed you could gauge the era.

But ANYWAYS….I need to declare that for all intents and purposes that Mary is white. I’ve seen her be described as white passing, biracial, mixed raced and so on but baby she is a white woman. She ain’t even a 25% cause that’s what her mama would be as her daddy (Mary’s GRANDFATHER), was HALF black. NOT even full but HALF black. And I know they had the one drop rule, and also back in 1932 having a grandfather that was half black was as good as being a n*gger to white people in Jim Crow south. HOWEVER, in my OPINION, Mary is for all intents and purposes a white woman, but I get why there was so much conflict about her race in the movie given the time period.

One thing I noticed was that when Mary told stack “I was young enough to believe that you were coming back, but I’m grown now” and Cornbread called her “little Mary” when he saw her at the door. But she also referred to Sammie as “little Sammie” in the movie. I think Mary was younger than Stack, Smoke, and Annie, but older than Sammie. I would say Smoke and Stack are in their 30’s, so Mary is probably mid 20’s somewhere. She spoke about her mother saving stack when he got stuck inside their mother during birth and how her mother took care of them growing up (more than likely how she met Stack) Annie refers to her as family, and Cornbread clearly has seen her in childhood and knew her family. Mary has grown up around black people her whole life. She mentions how her father raised her mother to keep the klan from killing her. Despite being white (you can say mixed raced or white passing if you please I’m just gonna say white) it seems she was very immersed or even raised in and around the black community. Also, given her heritage I don’t think she’s ever really seen herself as white. I feel like Stack taught her to use it to her advantage or rather forced her to use it to her advantage (set her up with a rich white husband), but she hadn’t really wrapped her mind around it or accepted it, because she was never really in the white community like that.  She even said she didn’t want to marry a white man and she didn’t want to be white. The way she marched up to Stack at the train station was dangerous. To any passerby it would just look like a white woman arguing with a black man. Notice how Stack told Sammie not to her look at her and he also told her to keep her voice down. I don’t think he told her that out of embarrassment, but out of concern for both of their safety. The same way he told her was all it took for the wrong person to see her in the Juke and for word to get back and white people would try to kill her. Mary is like a lot of white people that have always been around black people. They think they’re the same because they’ve had similar experiences of hardships, but they fail to account for how race actually does affect the outcome of people’s lives. They know what racism is, and they understand it on the base level, but they start to think they’re “one of us” (a lot of times they are claimed as one of us by the black community) and in that “oneness” race disappears, except it never does. NEVER.

Now all of this brings me to the next discussion of relationships (part 3)

[totallynotashieldagent]

This is a maybe- I'll see if you guys like it then I might expand it on a slowburn fic but until then, here's a little snippet

You never thought you’d be here. Not once in your life since The Battle had you given yourself time to ponder over it. To think of what ifs and maybes. You’d simply left. Left it all behind. Friends, family, him. 

And now… it felt like a cruel joke to be here again. Face to face with the biggest what if of your life. At the Ministry, no less. 

Draco Lucius Malfoy. 

He still looked just as handsome, if not more. He’d grown into his features, his hair wasn’t as slicked back anymore, he had glasses which accentuated his eyes, but he still wore a suit. That dark green that he always favoured over every other colour. And a little boy was clinging to his leg. He was coaxing him to say hello to you and you felt like your heart was shattering into a million pieces all over again. 

Of course, he’d moved on. Everyone else did. You were the only one who ran away. From everything. From everyone. 

“Sorry, he’s shy.” He laughed. “If you’d been around more, he might have warmed up by now.” 

He hadn’t said it to be mean or anything but perhaps old habits died hard and there was still a part of him that always said the rudest thing first. 

Still, you plastered a smile, the best one you had. “What’s his name?” You asked, looking everywhere but his face. “How old is he?”

“Scorpius.” He ruffled his son’s hair. “He’ll be four soon.” 

“Hello, Scorpius.” You crouched a little, offering your hand. “I used to go to school with your father.” That’s the easiest thing to say, honestly. Went to school together. That’s it. That’s all. Not that you used to stay in the astronomy tower until dawn, name the stars and laugh until your sides hurt. Not that there was always a question of will they wont they-

The little boy just barely touched your index finger, giving it a shake twice, mumbling a tiny little, Hello ma’am. You smiled and straightened up, finally meeting his grey eyes. 

Before you could excuse yourself, he spoke. “Are you back for long?” 

“Sort of. I’m supposed to handle the estate. My parents are stepping down from their position, so I’ll be taking the Ladyship.” You explained, “What are you doing here?” 

“Ah- Harry got some things sorted out for me so we just got the Malfoy Manor back and the restorations are underway. I’m here to get the documentations filed. They needed me to show up in person.” He spoke smoothly. As he always did. Proper, poised and-

“Wait- Harry?” You asked, “Since when do you call him anything but Potter?”

“It’s been a while, Y/N.” He smiled a little, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “A lot has changed.” You nodded numbly, still digesting the newfound information. 

“So- Uh-” You started and the little boy tugged at Draco’s trousers. You watched as he gathered Scorpius in his arms and the boy slumped against Draco’s neck, his little fingers toying with the collar. You couldn’t help but smile and think about how every Malfoy ancestor was probably turning in their graves.

Malfoy patriarch, holding his child in his arms. The scandal. 

“How’s the missus?” You asked, cringing internally that you didn’t even know who he had ended up marrying. 

“Oh-” His face fell, he moved his son from one side to the other. “It’s just me and him.” He said softly. 

I’m sorry- You wanted to say it but it stuck in your throat like molasses. You looked away, embarrassed to have even asked. 

“Have you met anyone else?” He asked, changing the conversation. You were grateful for it.

“No. Not really. I just arrived yesterday.” You told him, “But I figured I’ll end up seeing everyone around.”

“Did you-” He paused, “Were you in touch with anyone?” You shook your head again. 

“No one but Luna but that’s mostly because I worked with her husband.” You laughed a little easily, “You?”

“Oh- Um- With almost everyone.” He swallowed. “Most of us have kids around the same age so- We ended up reconnecting because of school.” 

“Right- Right.” You nodded.

The silence consumed you both, it felt heavy and uncomfortable. There was so much to say but neither of you had the heart to say it. 

“I should-” You pointed in a random direction and he quickly nodded. “It was good- good to see you.” 

“You as well.” He said softly and you almost faltered, not wanting to leave. But you still did. 

It was too little, too late. And it was all your fault for leaving. 

. . . Drabble Masterlist.

[abster05]

The Reality War Thoughts

After reflecting, I think that the biggest problem this episode, other than some serious incoherencies in the lore and pre-established characterisation of The Doctor and/or the Rani, the biggest problem with The Reality War has to be the character assasination of Belinda Chandra:

-From the get-go, we see Belinda rejecting the heteronormative patriarchal expectations of women-Her opening scene with Alan, the fact that she doesn't like being called "Mrs" and the dedication she has towards her job.

-The whole way through the series, it is her job that she wants to get back to. She enjoys her job and she finds purpose in it and she wants to get back to her family again. I thought that one of the points of the season would be similar to the line from Rory in season 7 about how is job is "important to me" and that an ordinary life away from what the Doctor does isn't lesser just because it doesn't affect the fate of the universe.

-At no point during the season does Belinda ever show that she has a desire for a child. Some people have pointed out that if anyone should have been given a fake baby then it should have been Ruby because of her feelings around wanting to find that biological connection. I personally wouldn't want the 19 year old to just become a mother on the spot but I can agree that Ruby's character had some grounding in that idea and would have made more sense than Belinda (Although it would still be a poor writing choice imo)

-Then we get to Wish World-I was so interested at the point where Belinda looks at Poppy when she can't remember how long the labour was and there was a moment where she almost has no idea who Poppy is.

-If Belinda had got back to the real world and had seen Poppy as an innocent baby that needed defending, that would have been fine. It would have been in character for her because all season she has had that caring nature where she tried to help others whenever she could. Some people are using that trait to somehow say that means she wanted to be a mother or that it forsehadowed this development with Poppy. And I am not falling for this ridiculous idea that just because a woman is caring it is her "maternal instinct" coming out in another format because there is no child currently available for her to show it towards.

-Considering that she doesn't know the Doctor all that well, and she wanted to go home only ONE EPISODE PRIOR, Belinda seems to be fine, even happy, about the fact that she now has a tangible and permament link to the Doctor that she did not ask for or want.

-The fact that Belinda straight up says to Shirley that she is fine to go back to a wolrd where disabled people were living in camps, and a world where Rose didn't exist and she herself was a trad wife who couldn't work (When she one of her key thing is that she loves her job) is CRAZY. Like it would be wild for anyone to say but it felt wildly ooc for Belinda especially.

-Then she's just thrown into the Zero Room (And don't even get me started on how stupid it is that Susan Triad can just make a Zero Room in 20 minutes because since when can humans recreate Time Lord technology so easily????) Because she tells the Doctor that she can't help because her battle is saving her daughter. A child that she had forced on her mind you. The fact that she was made to love Poppy with no resistance, no problems was extremely weird.

-The folding up of the coat with that track in the background was beautiful. Like how it started off with Belinda wanting to have this family with the Doctor and Poppy (again fucking stupid) seems to fade away into Belinda having changed her mind and wanting to travel with the Doctor, which is a narrative choice that makes sense! It could have been better built to across the seaso but it was belivabel that she wanted to travel with him. But in the end even that was taken away from her and we'll never know if she wanted that with the Doctor because any of her want or desires outside of Poppy were erased.

-And then Poppy disappearing was sad (ig) especially given how bad the doctor wanted a child and a family

-BTW, did anyone else get the feeling that the Doctor KNEW that Poppy had disappeared and that he was pretending to Ruby that he didn't because he knew it was the right thing to do? Like the looks that the Doctor was giving, it definitely felt that eay and maybe before the reshoots that was the plan (You will pry fro my cold dead hands that this wasn't the original story)

-And then we have the worst it of all. The Doctor rewrites Belinda's life so that Poppy was always the centre of her life and she has a baby with a man that she hasn't seen in years in her real life (I preseume) which neither of them consented to.

-And then she wasn't even the Doctor's daughter which was just ridiculous to me. Like what was the point??? Of any of it.

-Yeah. And then she can't remeber any of the life she had before. And the Doctor sees no problem with it whatsoever. Which is wild because of anything like this happened to any of his prior companions, he would have torn the universe apart to free them and get them back to their normal life.

-So the Belinda Chandra we knew in the 6 episodes leading up to this esentially died when she entered Conrad's Wish World (mind you, he had no punishmant for what he did, he just got a happy ending while Belinda was forced into a nightmare. ) She was shackled to a baby she didn't consent to having and that she hardly knows. Her whole life, rewritten without her knowledge or permission. And given that she hated that the Doctor scanned her without permission, she would HATE having a child forced on her. Although she doesn't care about him scanning Poppy with no permission apparently.

-So to sum up, this was a misogynist, racist fumble where the woman of colour was sidelined for more Ruby content (love her but she had her season and whole episode of Belinda's season already) and shows that RTD needs to be put on a fucking leash with his writing in the form of a LOT more guest writers per season so that we can get some originality rather than whatever nonsense this was.

-My friend said that Belinda's plotline felt like Pro-Life propoganda and I couldn't agree more.

Belinda will go down as the most failed character in all of Doctor Who I fear. She deserved better and 15 deserved a much better exit that the one he was given.

[mr-meero]

30 Seconds for Redemption (an analysis and personal acceptance of what is)

We all know and appreciate how effective “show don’t tell” can be in storytelling. In the case of Andor 2x08, there are two critical moments that add depth to Dedra and Syril without them having to say a word. 

I have been asking myself since the series ended “Where can Dedra be redeemed?” “Is she a redeemable antagonist?” It was very clear for me with Syril’s moment, but I wanted to sit with Dedra’s for a while longer, and this is where my headspace is currently.

Starting with Syril’s redemption…

Syril Karn lowering his gun

This man was locked on. He beat Cassian. He had him! But then Cassian, starring down the barrel, bewilderedly asks “Who are you?” 

Let’s not forget, Cassian pointed a gun at Syril, tied him up, and let him live in 1x03. Sure, many years have gone by, but of course Syril didn't forget. Syril would never forget the foil to his entire being. 

Cassian’s question was the final piece to shattering Syril's entire worldview. Everything he knew, he believed to be true, his identity, purpose… just gone.

Syril took that small moment of humility to lower his gun. What a blow to your ego and just everything you thought you knew about yourself.

Dedra hesitating not once, but twice

She knows the plan. Captain Kaido reminds her that she is the finger and he is the trigger. She is to relay the command from Partagaz. 

After Syril confronts her, and she tries to bring him back herself, she gives the order to Grymish find Syril and return him. The very next moment she’s being told Partagaz is on the line. She knows what this call is for.

But she also knows that Syril is out there in the crowd. She hesitates for 10 seconds to answer bc she knows what she has to do next.

When we cut back to Dedra, she is silently removing the headset and is feeling a painful weight begin to sink in. It looks almost as if she is experiencing tunnel vision.

She is asked for the orders.

She opens her mouth to give them but stops. Taking a breath instead. She is asked again, and you can see her slightly recoil.

But he’s still out there… 

She takes another breath, attempts to steady herself, but her voice is about to give it all away. “Proceed” said through gritted teeth and a shaky tone.

Dedra hesitated for 15 seconds to tell Kaido to execute the plan.

Dedra had to proceed, but struggled to. Not because she has any humanity for Ghormans. But because Syril is in that crowd. She has been working on this project for years. This moment has been her goal post. She believed she was going to be rewarded once this was all over with.

Let’s take a moment to untangle ourselves and re-affirm our understanding of this character. If she wasn’t in a relationship and didn’t face certain danger on Ferrix, she’d be executing that plan and going home that same day. Her loyalty is to the Empire. It always has been.

But because she is in a relationship and trauma bonded with someone, Dedra’s only redemption is that she hesitated to try and give the one person she cares about enough time to get out or be found. We are shown 25 seconds of her hesitating. Hoping. Wishing. Dreading. If she ignored Partagaz or didn't make the call at all, she'd have been redeemed there. She would have ultimately sparred innocent lives for just one. And if the plan was still executed without her, it wouldn't have been entirely on her.

Syril’s only redemption is him lowering his gun. Speed running his own stages of grief over himself. Coming to realize his insignificance. Considering sparing Cassian. His moment is exactly 5 seconds. If he lived to drop the gun and walk away, that would have been his redeemable moment fully realized.

So, despite the small amount of time they are allowed and we are given, we can learn and observe so much about these characters. This is where we can book club these moments and engage in a fun character/story thought exercise. 

If we could plead and bargain “please don’t do this, you can change” to Dedra and Syril. Let’s ask the following questions: 

Would the oppressive system they’re in let them?

What would they be willing to sacrifice to change for good?

Would they stay together if one or both of them changed?

Based on what we know about these characters, would they even entertain the idea of changing?

[xxundeadfanboixx]

Price, Ghost, Soap, Extra

 Gaz won’t lie about how he feels entitled to you. He’s very vocal about how he was the first person you felt comfortable with. He was given a comfort place within your heart, long before any of his teammates started working on craving themselves a spot as well. Unlike with them, you came to him. He wasn’t an alpha like Price or Ghost. And yet, you still came to him first, bearing your heart for him to claim like a -slightly forcefully- proposal. You didn’t cling onto Soap. You didn’t seek the beta out for stability when you were thrown with little care into this team filled with strangers you had never met before. It was him you clung onto. You were his shadow, following him wherever he went. It was the back of his trainers that got stepped on, followed by a quiet “sorry” when you didn’t stop fast enough after he stopped walking. And it was with this entitlement to you that Gaz came up with his nickname for you; Lovie. 

   When you aren’t able to leave the dead where their bodies lay on the dirty and blood pooled floors. Carrying the feeling of violence and the fight for survival with you home along with the blood that is drying at your skin. Where any other person will go searching for an alpha for comfort, instinctually reaching out to their alphas to protect them. You instead end up standing outside of Gaz’s door. When you go searching for comfort and shelter, it is Gaz’s face that comes to your mind, breaking through the muffling static and stifling fog. It is to the point that you don’t even knock anymore. It has to be telepathy the way that Gaz always knows when you’ll be showing up to his door. (When in reality he just pays close attention to you on the rides back to base after every mission. He has taught himself the language of your eyes. It is your eyes that tell him you’ll be showing up to his room.) You are left waiting outside his door for only a quarter of a minute before he’s opening the door for you. A softer version of his usual smile on his lips. “Hey, Lovie. Wasn’t expecting you to drop by.” You both know he was expecting you. You just don’t know that he was pacing impatiently on the other side of the door waiting for your arrival. He envelopes you into a hug (in the hallway, in the view of anyone looking), before wrapping an arm around your shoulders and guiding you into his room. The door locks behind you. It’s broken, Gaz told you, and locks anytime it closes. “Go ahead and sit at the nest-” “But I’m dirty.” “-make yourself comfortable. I’ll go get some washcloths to clean you up, Lovie.” It is routine by now. It was a stability you’ve fully submitted to. Speaking like you’re reading from a script. It is a play you two have played in a handful of times, and one you will play multiple more times. You barely hesitate now. You watch as Gaz disappears into his personal washroom, the dingy yellow light spilling from the opened door. Waiting until you hear the sink turn on, before you follow the path you took last time, and every time before that, to where Gaz has his nest made up on his bed. Your rehearsed steps worn into the floor. When the sink turns off, is when you sit at the edge of the bed. Gaz holds the washcloth in hand as he walks over to you. The clothes color faded and stained. He kneels at your feet, getting comfortable on the hard cold floor, while you sit on the edge of comfort and warmth of the nest. “Give me-” You are holding your blood stained hands out to him before he can finish his line. You’re early, and before you can retract, he gently grabs hold of your right hand. “Good job. I didn’t even have to ask this time.” He shoots you a grin. 

   The gentle warmth of the washcloth starts to bring you back to him. The blood that haunts your mind being washed away just like the blood on your hands. “Lovie,” Your mouth opens a little, to mouth along with his words, “you really should start wearing gloves. Then we’d just need to toss them in the wash after missions.” He playfully tsks at you. As if he is scolding you for not wearing knee pads while riding a bike, instead of gloves to stop blood from seeping into the callouses of your hands. Calloused hands that you are being so cautious with as Gaz washes them. Only ever allowing yourself the lightest of contact with him, as if anything too heavy will harm him. He notices. He notices every time, and every time he holds onto your hands tighter and refuses to let you slip away. He knows you fear your own body around him. Gaz knows you fear what others have taught you to fear about yourself. And he refuses to allow that fear to keep your love away from him. Not when it so rightfully belongs to him. Not when it so naturally seeks him out at every turn. Gaz refuses to let the fears others have forced upon you to rob him of the comfort and warmth that is his to indulge in freely. You are not allowed to run away and hide from him. Not when you were the one that handed him your love to begin with. You’re not allowed to try and take it away from him now; your love is all his.

[whitenoisewhatanawfulsound]

Miles Away.

Spencer Reid x Reader

Spencer's use of drugs makes him an unreachable shell of a person. Words can be horrible and true at the same time, and you'll never be able to take them back.

1.2k words

cw: Spencer's use of drugs, drug use, fighting, a lot of awful things are said, ANGST, no happy ending, Spencer is angry and unwell, I think thats the gist of it but let me know if I missed anything.

an: This is... Rough. It's quite depressing, so please approach with caution.

You've been here before.

Maybe only once or twice, but it's so agonizingly familiar that it physically hurts. The pounding of your heart and rush of thoughts is overwhelming. You taste copper, only to realize that you've been biting down on the inside of your cheek too hard.

It's hard to look him in the eyes, sometimes. It's ironic. Looking Spencer Reid in the face should be far from difficult. Faint stubble and irises that could very much be made of coffee and honey just aren't so comforting anymore. It's hard to look at him and really see him, like you used to be able to. He's not so telling anymore. Just blank. It's unfair that he can read you like it's nothing and he leaves you with crumbs.

Neither of you have talked for about three minutes, the silence is awful. Spencer always told you about how much he loved the kind of silence the two of you had. He didn't have to worry about filling it; It was soft. It was holdings hands and warm blankets and skin and the turning of pages.

This was harsh and loud. You could cut it with a plastic knife. It envelopes you like smoke and you struggle to breathe, It feels like someone is standing on your chest.

His lips are pressed into a thin line. You want to take three steps forward and pry them open, force words from his vocal chords, something that makes sense. Something to work with.

"Why won't you just talk to me?"

Spencer sighs and shifts on his feet.

"It's not worth it." That's what he thinks, anyways.

"I don't understand."

"I'm not asking you to."

"But I want to, Spencer."

He doesn't respond. It's infuriating.

You try to scan his face for something, anything. You're not given very much.

That is, until your eyes fall back onto his. His pupils are tiny, Minuscule. Dark circles frame them, and his cheeks look hollow, his cheekbones startlingly prominent. You look down and he's picking at the skin around his fingernails.

"Spencer," You start carefully. This is bound to end poorly, but it's so hard to ignore. "Are you using?"

It sounds weird, not like how you usually sound. It comes out small and afraid. It sounds like when a child asks, "will it hurt?" As they clutch at their parents hand, a needle poised at their arm.

Spencer does not speak. It's so unlike him. That's how it feels most days, though. You miss him, even if he's standing right in front of you.

"I'm not using." Liar. It's painfully obvious but somewhat surprising, especially from a profiler.

"I struggle to believe you."

He shakes his head, exasperated.

"I told you to tell me about these things." Your words do not come out soft.

"I knew that you would be upset." Neither do his.

"Well yeah, I'm fucking upset. This isn't exactly a pleasant discovery, is it?"

"I'm sorry, am I mistaken, or is it suddenly you with the drug problem?"

"Problem?" You scoff. "Spencer, this is far from a problem. You're addicted."

"As if I didn't know that."

Fuck Spencer Reid.

"You're killing yourself, you know that right? You come home every day bitter and cold, and you snap at me constantly. Do you know how that feels? Horrible. It feels horrible."

It becomes less factual, and more about hitting where it hurts. And God, do you know where it hurts. Every little whisper he's ever given you tells you where it hurts. Every choked sob has told you where it hurts. Every small, afraid, and tired glance has told you that it hurts.

"You're exhausting, you're too much. I can't do it anymore, I can no longer save you, I don't know why I thought I could."

It's cruel. You regret it the moment you stop talking.

"You shouldn't have tried." It comes out bitter, and you think that he means it.

Oh, you know it fucking hurts.

His lips are pulled into a small frown, his eyes sad. He moves away, leaving you in the middle of the space between his kitchen and living room. You hear the jangle of his keys and the sound of the front door.

You don't think that you've ever heard Spencer slam a door, even when its warranted. He always closes them softly. Carefully. He's never mentioned it, and you've never asked.

You almost wished he had slammed it this time. You want the finality of it. It will never come, though. As much as you want it. There is no finality in recovery, there is no finality in fights. You will never be able to take your words back. You can forgive, but you cannot forget.

It's awkward standing in his apartment without him. You'd come here with him, and he left without you. It feels as if the green walls are closing in on you.

You don't know whether to go or stay. Going feels wrong, but so does the latter.

You curse yourself when you go after him.

~

Damn Spencer and his long legs.

You have to practically run to catch up to him. It's dark out and the streetlights are on, and there's barely anyone out.

"Spencer," You breathe as you catch up to him.

He keeps walking.

"Please, let's talk?"

Nothing. He says nothing.

"I know I said awful, awful things that I shouldn't even be thinking-"

"But you thought them anyway, yes? They must be true."

Fuck.

You stop, it's no use chasing after him.

You watch as he whips around.

"You tell me I'm exhausting, do you know how often I've heard that? I'm sorry that my existence inconveniences you, but if I tire you so much than go."

"It doesn't inconvenience me, but Spencer, you have to understand that the drugs you're taking are killing you. I miss you." You're not sure you want to anymore.

"I'm right here, aren't I?"

"No, you're not. Don't you understand? You're distant. It's like I'm speaking to a void."

"A void would be less tiring though, wouldn't it?"

"Don't do that." Yeah, it would, wouldn't it?

He frowns. You used to kiss away his frowns. You can't anymore, they don't disappear like they used to. They taint his face as if they're scars.

You want to crawl beneath his skin, carve out what is rotted and replace it with your own flesh. Remove the blood that is poisoned and give him yours. You don't care if the poison kills you. You want to give him everything you have and he just. Won't. Let. You.

It starts to rain, heavy and sudden.

"I want to help you, but I can't when you won't let me." Your voice cracks halfway through and there's a familiar lump in your throat.

"Has it occurred to you that I don't want your help? You try to ‘help’ everything. There are some things in life that you just can't fix."

He starts walking again.

"Where are you going?"

"Away."

You watch him leave. Your clothes stick to your skin uncomfortably, water drips from your eyelashes making your vision blurry.

You used to say that Spencer could be the moon; gorgeous and oh so intimidating. Illuminating and so lovely. You could stare at him for hours, you could write essays and books about him. You'd go after him again, but sometimes it really does feel like he’s 238,855 miles away.

[twowaywardorphansjournal]

Weightless

Summary: You find other avenues to help you manage your anxiety and stress.

Content: Dean x Reader, anxious!female reader, mostly fluff, a little bit of self-doubt and negativity, cuddles and showering together (no smut)

Note: I hadn't intended on doing a sequel to Weighted when I wrote it, but I've been working through some things this month that I just wanted to express in writing. So this one is a little personal and very much me-coded.

****************************************************************

While nothing was ever perfect, things had been going okay. Your weighted blanket seemed to help keep you asleep for longer periods of time. The pressure was even calming for when your thoughts started racing and gave you something else to focus on. Dean claimed he was reserving the human weighted blanket for “the really bad stuff” so you hadn’t been able to try that again. Dr. Kazarian encouraged you to keep looking for tools now so that when you were struggling, you had something to turn to.

Sam had given you a strange look when you asked if he knew anything about adjusting water pressure to a shower. It almost made you back off, laugh and say you were just curious; it wasn’t anything. But you stood firm in your vulnerability and decided to explain. 

“Have you ever gone swimming and completely submerged yourself? Let the water just totally envelop you?”

“No,” Sam blinked, trying to recollect the last time he had even been in a pool.

“Well, you should try it sometime. It’s very calming.” You said with a smile.  

“And taking a shower is like being in the pool?” Sam wondered, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, it’s the next best thing.” You told him. “And, I mean, we have decent water pressure. I was just wondering if you knew how to make it better.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Sam chuckled.

You figured he was gonna forget or not be able to do anything with the unique system of the bunker. Really it had been a shot in the dark. But one day he found you reading and suggested that you go try out the shower. You squeaked in surprise and jumped out of the chair. Sam laughed, watching you as you started to race away. You mentally chided yourself before you ran back to hug him and muttered a quick thank you.

At first, it was a little too much, but you also made the mistake of leaning into the spray face first, which felt like getting pelted with hail. Once you ducked your head and focused the water on your shoulders and back it was better. Memories of standing in the shower from your childhood flooded back to you, the water helping you connect with the parts of yourself that were misunderstood and alone. You didn’t know what exactly it was, but water running over you was something you couldn’t get enough of.

What you hadn’t factored in was that Dean was going to find out. You weren’t sure if he could tell the water pressure was different, or if a conversation came about out of the blue, but a few days later Dean made a comment while you were cuddling.

“So, the water pressure, huh?” Dean’s breath hit the back of your neck as he spoke.

Your eyebrows rose quickly, your face freezing in a state of surprise.  

“If you need me to do something different to get you off, please…”

“Oh my god,” you exclaimed dramatically, dropping yourself forward into the pillows. Dean chuckled. With a sigh, you raised your head again. “That is so not why I asked.”

“It’s not?” Dean queried.

“It’s…” You bit your lip. Shifting your weight, you half-turned in Dean’s arms so that you could see him. “It’s kind of like my blanket. Standing under the water gives me the feeling of a hug. So, I asked if Sam could increase the pressure.”

“You and your pressure,” Dean mocked. He squeezed his arms around you, shifting you back so you were flush against him. He didn’t say anymore, and from the way he held you, you knew that he understood.

The next week, you sat with Dean at the map table, running your finger mindlessly over your lips while you tried to take in information. You had finally gone out and got a new gun. While at the store, Dean asked you something about what supplies you had for cleaning it. Admitting you didn’t, Dean pressed you about your tactics and found out that you rarely serviced your weapons. So, you were already not feeling great, and now Dean was using words that sounded made up as he pulled apart his pistol.

You tried to follow along, having gotten a similar model, but you just felt lost. Shooting a gun was one thing, but understanding the inner workings of it was something else entirely. You knew that it was important, Dean had harped on it three times already. And the fear that you were going to screw something up was starting to give you that out of body feeling.

“Now, whatever you do, don’t…”

A small piece went flying out of your pistol, sailing past Dean’s face. He clenched his jaw, and you saw him biting back words. You’d probably just done exactly what he was going to tell you not to do. Clamoring out of your seat, you set to work finding the part. Weight settled in the center of your chest. A tear leaked out of the corner of your eye. Thankfully you were able to find the piece rather quickly and you returned to your seat.

“Okay, so where did this come out of?” You wondered.

Dean didn’t reply, instead just looking at you like he wanted you to answer the question for yourself. You replayed everything he had told you, your gaze sweeping over the pistol in your hand, but it had all suddenly disappeared from your short-term memory. You gulped, blinking against the pressure building behind your eyes. Dean seemed to sense where you were at and pointed to an area on the gun.

“Right,” You laughed, your voice tight.

“You’re gonna need to pull it apart more to get it back in.” Dean offered softly. “Why don’t we set it aside and work on it tomorrow?”

Dean’s patience broke you. You could feel the tears welling up and not wanting him to see you cry, you pushed back from the table. Dean called your name. On the path to your room, you passed the bathroom, and the shower practically called your name. Figuring it sounded better than laying on a damp pillowcase, you collected your things and padded back down the hall.

Once you were standing under the nozzle, the spray hitting your scalp and flowing down your back, you let the dam break. A few sobs and shuddering breaths echoed over the sound of running water. Gripping your torso, you tried not to chastise or belittle yourself and just focused on being upset. Having discussed your last episode, Dr. Kazarian had encouraged you not to engage in self-deprecation. It was easier said than done, but you could tell the difference when you weren’t mentally beating yourself up.

You head footsteps outside on the tile. Dean must have slipped in when you weren’t paying attention. He entered wordlessly, stepping behind you and wrapping you into his arms. It was difficult to both want his comfort and also not want him to see you when you felt so raw. Still, you let out a shaky breath and leaned back into him.

“You were doing fine.” Dean mumbled, his chin settled on your shoulder. “You-”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” You interjected with more anger than you had intended.

“Okay, we won’t talk about the situation. But how did it make you feel?”

With a snort, you shot a glare at Dean’s head. You were too close to really see his eyes, but you knew they were full of mischief right now.

“Have you been listening to my therapy sessions through the walls?” You scoffed.

“I’m trying to help you.” Dean answered smoothly, lifting his head.

“Yeah. Next time you shut down and push me away, I’m therapizing you.”

“Therapizing?”

“Shut up. It’s a word.”

“Sounds made up is all I’m sayin’.” Damn, he’d made you crack a smile. “C’mon, tell me.”

“I feel…stupid.” You paused, emotion bubbling up again. “When you asked me about cleaning my guns, I thought, how have I gotten this far without knowing that? You acted like it should have been the third thing I got taught. And it’s so different from anything else I’ve ever learned that it isn’t sticking in my brain.”

“I’m not expecting you to master it overnight.” Dean calmly replied.

“Yeah, well, I’m an all or nothing kinda girl sometimes.” You joked. “I’m working on it.”

“Listen, one thing I’ve learned about you, is that once you get it, you’re solid. So just give yourself time, you’ll get there. Don’t get in your own way.”

You turned in Dean’s arms, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, and then settled yourself in the crook of his shoulder. The shower was still hitting the middle of your back. Dean held you tight like you were trying to disappear, even though you had no intention of going anywhere. You’d stay here as long as the warm water held out, and then you’d start fresh tomorrow.