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demoneyesanddamagedsouls · 4 years

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Sparring Partners

Chapter Two: Preparation

A/N: Thank you guys so much for the love on the first Chapter of this fic, I hope you enjoy this one just as much. I’m aiming to post a new chapter each week, not sure yet how many chapters this’ll have yet. Feedback and comments as always are so welcome, I’d love to hear your thoughts, and if you’d like to be tagged for the upcoming chapters just let me know! xxx

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x F! Reader

I have also just created a playlist for ya’ll to listen to while reading. I hope it gets you even more invested! ✨COCKY COWBOY PLAYLIST✨

Summary: You and Agent Whiskey are long time rivals. As Statesman agents you both have been put up for the same promotion and this mission is your final chance to prove yourself. Have you got what it takes?

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Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Slight Language, mentions of food and canon-typical violence

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CHAPTER TWO: Preparation

You both leave the conference room minds reeling from all the information that was just given to you.

As one of the younger agents at Statesman, being chosen as a potential candidate for Champ’s position was a real honour. It showed that Champ really thought highly of you and your skills. After 8 years of working as an agent, going on your fair share of dangerous and difficult missions, taking a bullet more than once, and now training the new recruits with Tequila, you knew you had worked your ass off to get where you were. However, even with all this experience it paled in comparison to some of the more senior agents, some with 10 or more years under their belt. Hell, the person you were up against had been on the job for about 15 years, making a name for himself as one of the most fearsome agents that Statesman had to offer. You knew for a fact that Whiskey had been hoping for this position eventually, it had been something he mentioned to other agents that you heard in passing. At the top of his game and at the height of his career you realised, this cowboy was going to be one hell of a challenge to go up against.

Whiskey mulled over this new mission and Champ’s offer over and over in his mind. He wasn’t particularly surprised that Champ had propositioned him as a potential candidate for this position, he was one of the most senior agents at Statesman. Probably the closest in age to Champ and with the extensive experience he had it seemed rather obvious, but Vodka? You were still so young, in your mid 20’s the world was yet to break your spirit. Mind you, you had that bossy tone down packed. He chuckled to himself. He was hesitant to admit but you had a certain leadership quality that you didn’t see in most of the agents here. Most were contented to follow orders and carry out missions as asked, but you always had your own way of doing things, always taking the initiative. He supposed you had a fresh and young perspective that Champ must see as endearing. He however, found your constant need to take charge rather infuriating. You always seemed to think you knew best and even if you were correct, more often than not he was resigned to admit, it was still frustrating as you always seemed determined to show him up. He knew you were going to be a challenge, so determined to prove yourself, and a damned good agent to boot. Fuck this is going to be harder than he thought.

Both of you walking in the same direction out of the room, neither of you realising the other is turning to walk in the opposite direction. Both too caught up in your own thoughts you collide into each other your head smacking into Whiskeys chest. Quickly recoiling from the unintentional contact your rub your forehead with the palm of your hand. “Dammit Whiskey, watch where you’re going for Christ’s sake.”

“Well jeez Vodka how am I supposed to avoid you and that ego inflated head of yours?” He scoffed, eyeing you up and down.

You scowled at him, “You think I have a big ego? Have you looked in the mirror lately Whiskey? You and that cocky ass grin of yours have got a lot of nerve talking about my ego.” Rolling your eyes, you swiftly turn and storm away from the narcissistic cowboy.

“If you liked my smile so much you should have just said so… sunshine.” He calls back to you as you walk away. You could practically hear the smirk in that smooth as silk southern accent.

What an absolute dick. He knew exactly what he was doing when he spoke to you like that. It infuriated you. The way his southern drawl echoed in your ears, his words dripping like honey, they way he called you those stupid little pet names. Everything about Whiskey drove you up the wall, he always knew just how to get under your skin. “Fuckkkk…” You growled to yourself as you stormed into your office your heeled boots clicking angrily through the hall. Why does he always have to be so intensely irritating? You needed to get that stupid fucking smirk out of your head and get prepared for your new op. Slamming the door shut and sitting down, you start reclining in your office chair taking a deep breath and relaxing. Whiskey’s scent had lingered on your clothes creating a cloud around you after you had slammed into his chest. Inhaling the smell of cinnamon and sandalwood, a soft oaky smell, your breathing began to slow and calm. You would never tell him but that was one thing you did unfortunately enjoy about Whiskey. He always smelt good. Why did he always have to smell so damn good? Shaking your head to clear your mind of any remaining thoughts of Whiskey you leaned towards your desk and opened your laptop. This was going to be a long night…

***

Pushing the door closed with your heeled foot, you stepped into your apartment and sighed. You were exhausted. Checking your watch, you realised it was now 10 minutes past midnight. Swiftly moving to the bedroom, you flopped onto your bed groaning as you flipped yourself over and pulled off your boots, quickly changing into your pyjamas. Finally laying back down in bed you stared up at the ceiling running over the research you’d done over the course of the afternoon and evening, and the plan you had organised for tomorrow. You had spent the afternoon working, collecting copious amounts of information on CleanPlanet and the history of their company. It seemed that they were attempting to pass as an almost ‘mom and pop’ style family-owned business “Dedicated to the bettering of the planet and all the people who inhabited it.” What a load of rubbish. You had uncovered multiple articles from smaller news publications questioning the companies credibility, some families of recently passed away individuals even coming forward and accusing the company of foul play in the deaths of their relatives. CleanPlanet was owned and run by Howard Jacoby and his wife Constance, two very well-off socialites and academics who were every bit as snobby as they appeared in pictures. At least you wouldn’t be dealing with them directly thank goodness you hated dealing with high society types, that would be Whiskey’s issue.

There was a particular video that had caught your eye whilst combing through their internet presence, a TedTalk style video starring the one and only Howard Jacoby. He was speaking about how the planet was struggling with things like overpopulation and pollution, a speech which sounded eerily similar to Professor Arnold’s work, the man who had assisted Richmond Valentine and encouraged his plot to wipe out most of the planet. You shuddered at the thought. Either way you and Whiskey would get to the bottom of this. If the company and its owners were planning on anything like what Valentine had tried to execute then you needed to figure it out quickly. Deciding you’d brief Whiskey in the morning about your hunch, you set your alarm and curled up in your soft cotton sheets. Looking out your bedroom window at the twinkling of the city lights, your head sinking slowly into your pillow. You drift off into a restless sleep, anxious of what tomorrow would bring.

***

You arrived at Statesman the next morning rubbing your eyes. Your sleep had been restless, anxiety of the coming days keeping you from a comfortable evening. Pushing the door to your office open you hear a chipper voice behind you. “Well mornin’ Vodka. You ready for the op today?” You turned to see Whiskey standing in your office door frame, leaning his broad shoulder against it with a large smile plastered across his face.

Rolling your eyes at his unnecessarily wide grin, “And what’s gotten you in such a fabulous mood this morning?” You say with an exasperated sigh as you drop into your office chair with a small thud. As soon as the words fall out of your mouth his smile somehow grows larger as he pulls out the arm that was behind his back forward as he saunters into the room. Holding a large paper bag, which as soon as you spot the smell hits your nostrils. Fresh pancakes. You look at him with sudden excitement and surprise, your mood instantly lifted and the last feeling of tiredness leaving your body as you inhale deeply.

“I thought I’d bring us some breakfast to get us in the right headspace for today. I also thought we should probably trade what we found out yesterday during our research to make sure we’re both on the same page…”

“Oh, so this is a bribery breakfast huh?” You questioned as you drag your eyes away from the mouth-watering food on the desk in front of you, finally taking a proper look at Whiskey for the first time this morning. The first thing you notice is that he is not currently donning his regular black Stetson, a rather big change from his usual cowboy appearance. Instead, he was showing off his thick, brushed back hair, his wireframe Statesman issued glasses resting on his strong nose, obscuring his dark brown eyes. He was wearing a gorgeous grey checkered suit with a white dress shirt underneath, a casual yet striking look on his glowing tan complexion. It was a very nice change for the cowboy. He cleans up well, you thought. Your gaze flicks up and you notice Whiskey’s cocky grin once again. He must have thought you were eyeing him up, not that you weren’t but you weren’t about to let him know that. You roll your eyes at him trying to keep his knowing smile at bay. “So, what are you after then Whiskey?”

“Well sunshine, since you always seem to know everything, I thought I’d get your run down on things this morning before we both head out to our separate ops today.”

“Ahhhh there it is, the usual candour I’m used to from you cowboy. I was worried when you showed up this morning with a kind gesture that I wouldn’t be enjoying any of that snarky wit I have become so accustomed to.” You look down at your computer and notepad, focusing on the research notes you had made last night in somewhat of a delirious, fever dream state. “Alright let me have a look…” you trailed off.

Whiskey sits down across from you at your desk pulling the steaming pancakes out of the paper parcel you had brought this morning. Setting up the two meals Whiskey observes you, wearing a pair of simple black high waisted work pants tapering at your waist, a simple white blouse tucked into them, the buttons undone just low enough to show off your neck and the top of your chest. He darts his eyes back up to your face, so you don’t catch him staring, nose scrunched up in concentration under your matching Statesman glasses as you palm through your somewhat excessive amount of research notes. He lets out a light breath of amusement seeing you like this, confused but copiously prepared, it was a nice change of pace from your usual so certain self.

Looking back up from your notes as you find what you were looking for you see the small meal containers opened on the desk, filled with pancakes with a small pot of maple syrup on the side. Turning your focus back to Whiskey you begin to go through what information you’d gathered that you thought was pertinent to the both of you. You ran through the notes you had made, both of you working your way through breakfast, Whiskey chiming in occasionally with a mhmm and a nod here and there. “One thing that kept bugging me last night was that Ted Talk type video of Howard Jacoby… talking about the human race being a plague on the planet that needed to be cured so the earth could thrive again…” you trial off as a look of concern crosses your face, “It was really eerie and reminded me a lot of that professor that assisted Richmond Valentine in his attempt to have the world turn on each other.”

“Well, it seems I missed that video, that sounds mighty concerning…” Whiskey trails off, leaning his elbow on the side of your desk slowly pushing his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose. “Wonder what their testing at those new hospital facilities of theirs then…” He turns to look at you, the same worry sparkling in his eyes.

“My hunch is that they must be testing something similar to what Valentine did, something that can affect extensive groups of people on a large scale. Something that would be easy to distribute and spread, but obviously more related to the medical profession because of the labs…”

“Maybe some sort of virus or infection?” He chimes in.

“Seems more than likely… I guess we’ll find out more today. Speaking of…” You glance down at your watch realising it was almost 8:30am. Still so early for your tired demeanour, but almost time for you to both be heading off. Ginger had organised a cover story for you last night and sent in for a ‘staff transfer’ so that you could get into the CleanPlanet facilities and gain access to the hospital quickly. You needed to get to the bottom of this puzzling situation fast, especially as it seemed to be becoming more concerning by the minute. “I think its time for us to head off.”

“Seems it is.” Whiskey nods and swiftly packs the remnants of breakfast back into the paper bag, throwing it into the bin beside your desk.

“So, you know what my, rather detailed I might add, plan is but you have yet to share how you plan on approaching this op.” A slight leer in your voice, aiming to provoke him. “Care to share… cowboy?”

“If you must know, Vodka,” he drawls, the civilised tone from earlier gone in a heartbeat as the two of you pick up your bags and make your way down the hallway to the elevator. “I will be posing as a one of multiple wealthy investors eager to take a tour of CleanPlanet’s new business acquisitions. A high society gentleman looking to expand my portfolio into areas I have true passion for you could say. As it so happens, it seems that Howard Jacoby is searching for some people who share his vision and have a healthy wallet.” His voice dripping in sarcasm, for this type of persona was so unlike himself. A charmer by nature his honeyed voice had made many a lady fall victim to a one-night stand, but a high society man he was not. Whiskey cleaned up well, but he was certainly a working-class gentleman with a love for simple living.

“Well, your certainly dressed the part.” You say as you eye up Whiskey admitting to yourself that he was pulling of the sleek look. You shake your head clearing your mind of the potential minute attraction forming, focusing once more on where you were going. Stepping into the elevator and tapping the basement level button, you continued. “You definitely look like a pretentious asshole.” You say, chuckling to yourself as the elevator started to move.

Suddenly Whiskey was directly in front of you looking you up and down. “Don’t pretend you haven’t been eyein’ me up little lady.” He says, voice velvety smooth. Pinned down by his gaze you suddenly feel cornered, claustrophobic in the small metal space. You feel your face begin to heat up with an incriminating red tint, uncertain whether it was from anger or something more primal, you quickly sidestep his imposing figure. The elevator dings and you swiftly exit the elevator, “You wish cowboy.” You respond, a quick exhale escaping your mouth as you calm your racing heartrate. Why was he trying to rile you up before such an important op? Why does he have to be such a cocky arse? Eyeing him up? He’s got to be kidding. He’s the absolute last person on the planet that you could ever be attracted to. He does nothing but irritate you. He may be attractive, you begrudgingly admit, but you certainly were NOT attracted to him.

You hear him chuckle behind you, “Did I touch a nerve there sunshine?” he drawls behind you as you both head towards the garage where Ginger would be waiting. Rolling your eyes in anger to yourself, you choose to ignore him. Responding would only make him continue.

Pushing the doors open to the garage you see Ginger talking to one of the mechanics. As she hears the doors swinging, she turns to you quirking her eyebrow, seeing you seething with annoyance. “Everything alright here agents?” She says, confusion evident in her tone.

“Fine Ginger,” your voice comes out strained attempting to mask your irritation, “So what have you got set up for us for the next few days?”

“For you Vodka I’ve organised this ID card so you will have access to the basic areas of the hospitals but there are higher clearance areas which I wasn’t able to duplicate. You’ll have to figure that out when it comes to it.” She hands you a small ID badge attached to a clip which you then hook onto the belt loop on your pants. “I’ve also got small earpieces for the two of you to keep in communication while inside the facilities. They’re undetectable but very effective so try not to scream while wearing them if you can.” She passes you both the tiny in ear tech piece.

“Thanks Ging.”

“Now for you Whiskey,” She pulls out a small wallet and a set of car keys, “Here’s a new wallet with your cover identity and some cash to show off of course.”

He chuckles to himself pulling out his new drivers’ licence, “Introducing Duke Silver!” He smiles and bows towards you and Ginger. You roll your eyes again, scoffing at his ridiculousness.

“And… If I can finish, Duke.” Ginger continues giving Whiskey an exaggerated frustrated look, “Here is your new automobile.” Handing him the keys she gestures to a car sitting behind her. A brilliant turquoise blue Shelby Cobra 427 with white racing stripes down the middle.

“Alright… Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Whiskey dashes over like an excited child to admire his new personas gorgeous ride.

As Whiskey admires his new toy you turn to Ginger, “What do I have the luxury of driving to ‘work’ then Ginger?”

Passing you the keys she gestures to the car behind Whiskey’s, a slightly beat-up silver Toyota Corolla. “Sorry hon, you unfortunately need to blend in as a semi-broke medical student.”

You sigh, clutching the keys in your hand. “Thanks Ging.” Walking over you pass Whiskey, still ogling his own ride, making your way to the new car you’d be enjoying for the next few days. A far cry from your own beautiful red Mustang you sighed once more. The two of you hop into your cars and adjust the inside to what you need, throwing your bags into the back seat. You look over at Whiskey and slump into your seat, incredibly jealous. “That looks like one fun car to drive…” you mutter to yourself, green with envy. “Lucky bastard.”

Whiskey revs his engine excitedly, “Thanks darlin!” He shouts to Ginger over the loud purr. Turning to you he winks, bringing your irritation back with full force. “Have fun at ‘work’ then sunshine. Talk to you later!” His voice ringing out across the concrete as he drives off, the garage doors opening as he takes off out of the facility.

“I guess I’m off too then, see you later Ginger!” You smile at her as you close your door, taking off after Whiskey ready to face whatever the day would bring.

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vegalocity · 3 years

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The Forest (Red Groom AU)

So i was like ‘I should rewatch the Princess Bride again before I jump back into this fic series’. So I re-read my own series as to remember where I was at, rewatched the Princess Bride, and blacked our for a few hours. And when I woke up I found this on my word processor lol

Also catch me messing with everyone ELSE’S dialogue but keeping the Prince’s 100% just Prince Humperdink’s lines so i don’t have to give him a personality (hats off to @starsfic for reminding me of the obvious ‘you don’t have to cast him at all’ thing)

The spotty light of the forest faded into the pitch of night as down, down the prince fell. By the time he hit the ground there was only the faintest patch of sunlight shining through the very sinkhole he'd fallen into.

Prince Red Son cursed his luck thrice times over as he took in the dark world around him, the caves surrounding him seemed to be more burrowed into the ground than they were naturally forming, which spelled both good and bad.

“Red Son! Can you hear me?! Are you alright?!” he heard Xiaotian's voice echo from above and the part of him that was still riding the high of his love being alive, and what's more still just as in love with him as he was, swooned at the care in his voice. If they had been safe at the time and Red Son allowed to linger on the feeling, he was sure he would feel much that of a child positively drowning in the ardor of their first love.

As it was he had to repress the feeling as much as he could. Later. When they were safe.

“I'm fine!” His legs felt like liquid beneath him but he was able to keep on his feet. “I think this is a burrow of some kind!”

“A burrow? Like an animal made that thing?! Hold on I'm coming down there-”

“I can climb back up!” The words came out before he really thought about them, driven mostly by pride; the prince had been dealing with being passed around his captors for the better side of two days now, and though he trusted Xiaotian with his life easily, the fact remained that he'd been at a distinct physical disadvantage with his magic restrained as it was.

And he was kind of tired of being helpless.

“Red,” And my, did the shortened version of his name sound intimate when spoken like that “-you could barely stand! You're injured it's okay! I'm coming down and getting you!”

“I'm not a child Xiaotian,” he just needed to figure out how to get back up without injuring himself further. Now, it wasn't a vertical drop, else he would have probably broken something on the descent down “Just allow me a moment to think of something!”

Now, it wasn't vertical but it WAS too steep a drop to easily climb by hand, he'd need something to act as ballast, like a rope of some kind-

“....You said your copy of the Monkey King's staff can grow or shrink, yes?”

“I....did?”

“Can you extend it down here so I can use it as a ballast to climb?”

“Oh! Yeah probably!”

Now he'd probably need something to ensure if he grip slipped he wouldn't fall for too long and injure himself like a fool once again. Now he hadn't had a lot on hand when the Spider Queen and her mercenaries had apprehended him—barely more than the simple travel clothes he'd been wearing—and what else he'd had had been lost in his captors' desperate fleeing from his love, so other than what he had in his pockets his only set of tools was the clothes on his back.

Ah! But he DID have the clothes on his back did he not? He shed the thin overcoat he'd been allowed after the Spider Queen had searched him for weapons and once the golden ended staff entered his sight he looped the body of it around the staff, and tied it off before tying the sleeves around his torso.

“Okay hold it steady!”

“Got it!”

Admittedly it wasn't the easiest climb, his arms still ached from his self inflicted burns, his legs still trembled from the force of the fall, but before too long had passed mottled daylight was around him again and he took Xiaotian's hand as he was pulled back over the ledge.

“Thank you.” Though he'll admit without most of his magic at his disposal he was tiring rather quickly. He held himself together infront of Xiaotian as his lack of firepower was already embarrassing to be caught by someone so important to him with, but being winded by a simple climb was a humiliation he'd like to be spared of.

“Anytime.” Xiaotian huffed a sigh “But if those are burrows down there we should really get out of this forest quick as we can-”

“And head off to your mountain?” the idea of Xiaotian, his humble noodle boy, having an entire mountain of his own to rule over (temporarily? He had no idea if Sun Wukong would want it back by the time his pilgrimage was complete or not) was such a strange concept, he wasn't sure if it had become quite real for him yet.

“Yup!” Ah, that sweet chipper tone, so sorely missed in the five long years they'd been apart and-

Wait...

“...You're going to tell your fathers as well right?”

Xiaotian paused, and he could see him pale a bit from his stance.

“...Oh man I really AM a dead man when they get ahold of me.”

He couldn't help the laugh at the idea, Xiaotian in that full Monkey King transformation sitting in the Inn all crumpled in on himself like a scolded child, with either of his parents just ripping into him.

“...Wow...” Xiaotian sounded breathless and when Red Son looked open him for a moment he was struck by the greatest sense of Déjà vu. That quiet afternoon in the inn when he'd glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and known his heart, But here was that look once more, in this darkened forest so long later.

“What?”

“Nothing I just... forgot how much I loved your laugh.” Xiaotian reached up and rubbed at his neck, a bashful grin making his cheeks turn pink, and Red Son felt his own face grow warm in response. Damn Noodle Boy still knew exactly what to say to make him a mess- “It's honestly so cute. That crazy cackle-”

-Nevermind. He scowled and now it was Xiaotian's turn to laugh.

“No I mean it! I love how wild it is!” He folded his arms and huffed, but didn't stop Xiaotian as he untangled them to link one of Red Son's arms in his own. “You throw your entire self into absolutely everything! It's admirable! And you already know how much I love your passion-” Dammit.

“We should try to find somewhere relatively safe before nightfall hits. Who knows what other dangers there are here.” He sniffed, as primly as he possibly could.

“Whatever they are we can handle it!” Xiaotian chirped in response, almost too optimistic, especially granted he'd JUST been saying that they should leave as fast as possible.

“I mean whatever made those burrows probably left awhile ago if so much plant matter had built up over them as to cover the air vents like that.” That was true-

“Well, what about the R.O.U.S? Isn't this their migratory region?”

“The Rodents of Unusual Size?” Xiaotian shook his head “I've passed through this forest before, never ran into them, I don't think they're anything but rumor.”

And then they pounced on them.

The Rodents of Unusual Size were pack animals so when they descended on the two of them they did so at least a dozen in number. Their most bold had tackled Xiaotian to the ground and and its size—roughly that of a small wheelbarrow—had sent him grappling with the creature, trying to get it off him and draw his staff at once.

Before the rest of the pack made its move Red Son gave the one on his love a swift kick, sending it yelping and scurrying off to regain its strength. Then the others began to descend on them. Xiaotian had drawn his staff in the respite and gotten back to his feet, but the most Red Son could improvise as a weapon was a nearby branch that had fallen from a tree.

He felt pathetic in comparison to Xiaotian at his back.

He hadn't even gotten out of the damn sinkhole without help. Sure it had been his plan but-

Xiaotian moved not flawlessly, he hadn't been combat trained when he'd left, and he'd only been trained by Sun Wukong for a short while before they'd parted ways, he'd gained his skills on the way instead of having them trained into him, and Red Son had fallen out of weaponry while he'd still been a boy.

One of the rodents lunged for him and he barely swiped the branch quick enough to bat it away. He sensed one nearing his blindspot and turned just a bit to keep it in his sight-

-and felt Xiaotian push him out of the way as another rodent lunged upon his turned back.

The grunt of pain-

The smell of human blood-

Xiaotian was knelt on the ground at his side, struggling with a rodent that had its teeth buried into his shoulder.

It was instinct, not emotion, not intent. The bone deep—soul deep—need to protect all he held dear, the memory of despair, the memory of joy. The words 'True love' spoken so matter of fact and plain. A simple statement of what was real instead of a challenge or declaration.

Seeing and smelling his blood and the very real danger and he'd been protecting him this was his fault he couldn't die like this he couldn't live to make his way back and return to Red Son just to die like this and have it be HIS FAULT-

Fire.

The golden bands on his wrists glowed, then shuddered-

-and then they broke.

And there was fire.

The rodent on Xiaotian was burned and burned and kept burning, the flames encompassing the creature, but never once touching his beloved, and not once daring to burn their master after they'd been forced to disobey him for the length of two days.

The rodent dropped twitching and smoldering and when he looked up, eyes burning and glowing from the power he'd been forced to restrain for far too long, the remaining rodents had scurried off to their holes. Fearful and skittish of the power that had been released.

“Woah...” Xiaotian's voice cut through the roar of the flames still crackling up his arms and it felt so right it hurt that he'd gone any time at all without it as it should be.

Though he still felt a weak ache in his limbs, his fire allowed to spring forth at his command once again was doing quite a lot to quell the pain, and he offered his hand to his love.

“We should leave before they come back.”

Xiaotian took his hand and stared as though he'd never seen him before.

“Is something wrong?”

“I just... I never saw you fight before I guess.” Xiaotian gripped his sluggishly bleeding shoulder. Red Son removed his thin coat again to try and treat the wound, though it was a bit challenging as they continued their trek.

Soon enough the forest was beginning to thin, and the dim light of dusk made strange shadows pass across the world. They were nearing Flower Fruit Mountain if Xiaotian's estimate was anything to go by, and hopefully that would mean they were soon to be safe-

But then came the sound of horses.

“Pull your sleeves down.” Xiaotian whispered urgently. “If thats your fiance make him think you still don't have your fire.”

Red Son cursed the fact that he hadn't thought of that first. Nonetheless he did as directed, and let Xiaotian pull him protectively behind him.

And there were horses, and warriors, and a macaque with fur black as pitch, and leading the caravan was his fiance.

“Surrender.” The prince demanded the second they got near.

“Oh, you wish to surrender to me?” Dammit Xiaotian. “Very well, I accept.”

His fiance looked vaguely amused, but only vaguely. “I give you full marks for bravery, but don't make yourself a fool.”

He'd never known the man before now, this being Red Son's first time gazing upon the prince his parents had decided to be his betrothed, and the prince's eyes on him as well.

Red Son wasn't the best at parsing out emotions, but he knew the prince had hired the Spider Queen to kill him, so he knew the thing that looked like desire in the prince's eye was nothing but bloodlust. He wanted not him, but his parents' army, and he was willing to slaughter anyone who stood between him and that goal.

“Ah, but we know the secrets of the forest! We could live there comfortably for days without you and yours finding us!” Red Son could see the blood starting to seep back out of Xiaotian's shoulder as he drew his staff again. “So if you wish for a death at the hands of the R.O.U.S packs, please be my guest and feel free to visit!”

“I tell you once again, surrender!” his betrothed stressed, and Red Son saw movement from the corner of his eye. Xiaotian couldn't turn his head from the prince, but he could see the prince had brought archers with him. Many archers. Archers whom had peeled away from the caravan before their approach.

Xiaotian was not immortal. Or maybe the Monkey King had taught him to be in the first way he had learned to be immortal for his aging to cease, but if he was he wasn't invulnerable.

“That won't be happening.” He could make a ring of fire around the both of them and spread it out to destroy any arrows that came into their path and then expand it forward to knock back their foes, But then they'd have only a small opening, and their only option would be to retreat back into the forest and hope to loose his fiance, maybe in the burrows of that large unknown creature? But that risked Xiaotian being wrong about it being some time since said creature had been there and risk the wrath of a huge underground creature likely out for blood at two tiny by comparison beings invading its home.

“For the final time, surrender!” the prince barked and with a flourish drew his sword from its sheath. The black furred macaque at his side drew a staff from his person, spiked at either end, and shot them both a wicked grin, but it was Red Son's eye he held.

The macaque took one hand away from his weapon to reach beneath his shirt, and what he pulled out made Red Son's only plan null. A fire resistance spell scribbled on a small block of wood, and another pair of those damned golden cuffs. He'd be restrained again in an instant if he couldn't even injure anyone and he'd be just as helpless as before, but this time at a heavy disadvantage with his love injured, it would only be hours before they caught up with them, if even that.

“Death first!” Xiaotian cried, holding up the staff and ready to charge-

“You have to swear you won't hurt him!” The words ripped from his lungs before he had a chance to truly consider them.

“What did you say?” The prince broke his gaze with his love and raised a brow at him.

“Red Son...?” Xiaotian's voice was so quiet, so confused...But that didn't matter. If it saved his life then he refused to regret it.

“....I'll go with you. We'll surrender and I'll let you take me back to your mountain, but you must swear you won't hurt this man.”

He'd been useless ever since he'd been kidnapped by those damned mercenaries, he'd relied on Xiaotian to survive the forest—whom had needed to get hurt before he could even gain a fighting chance at being his equal again—and now he couldn't get them out of his fiance's clutches together.

If he went back with the prince he'd be killed and his death blamed on whoever the Prince wished to destroy with his parent's army but-

-but he knew his limits.

“I swear it on all I hold dear.” His fiance responded.

“He has his own mountain to return to, you must let him return in peace.”

“It will be done.” his betrothed agreed, he turned to the macaque and murmured something to him, but all he could hope for is that this prince wasn't an oathbreaker-

-not like he'd turned out to be.

Xiaotian was staring at him, his wide dark eyes hurt and uncomprehending and it was so unfair that this was how it had to end. That he'd only had him back for such a short time before he had to choose to give him up.

But...

“When I thought you dead it nearly destroyed me.” he forced his voice to remain firm, no matter how much his heart hurt at what must be done. “I cannot survive that a second time.” and he knew he couldn't.

But he was a selfish demon after all, because despite his actions, and his willingness to give himself over to his betrothed, Red Son still desired one last fleeting moment with his love.

The kiss was soft, Xiaotian's calloused hands gripped loosely in his own and he prayed he would remember the feeling and never forget his warmth. Whether he was killed by his betrothed, fought back long enough to be kept alive and announced dead and forever kept in a basement somewhere, or yet worse live a long healthy life beside a demon king he didn't love, and never able to see Xiaotian again.

“If this is all I can do for you, then please, let me save you.” his voice was barely over a whisper, any louder and his voice would crack and wobble with emotion.

“...As you wish.”

And then there was a hand on his shoulder that was not Xiaotian's. It was cold and slick, like the scales of a reptile.

And so, leaving the keeper of his heart behind, Red Son pulled away from Xiaotian, and got on the horse offered to him.

And if there was a thin yet steady plume of steam trailing behind his steed, well... nobody bothered to say anything.

–

And Xiaotian was left standing alone as the keeper of his heart turned himself in to what was no doubt his own execution.

His sluggishly bleeding shoulder gave a thin throb of pain as a few of the prince's caravan followed Red Son and that wretched prince, but staying behind were a majority of the archers and the black furred macaque.

“Well, guess we should be getting you back to your mountain then.” The Macaque drawled, leaned back casually on his own horse and hiding his staff only now. His strangely shaped ears twitched as Xiaotian took a step forward. Wait- Not strangely shaped, there were three of them. Three on either side.

“We're men of action. Lies don't suit us.” He'd responded simply, and the Six eared macaque grinned that wolfish grin at him again. And sure enough he felt a few groping hands as a couple brave archers grabbed him and bound his hands behind his back.

“Love that staff by the way. Looks quite a lot like one an old friend of mine used to wield. But like, a crappily made cheap replica of it.” The Macaque hummed and took the staff from the ground after he'd been forced to drop it. “Way lighter too. Don't even need to have stolen anybody's powers for it!” After a beat the Macaque met his gaze, and he must have been making a bit of a face because he suddenly looked off his game. “What?”

“Six-Eared Macaque was it? I know someone who's been looking for you.” The swordsman flashed in his mind, the scar on her shoulder, the fierce determination in her eyes, that masterful, artistic swordplay. She'd had every moment of her confrontation with this macaque planned out for a decade, right down to what she would say to him.

He hoped she found out where he was and got her revenge from it. She deserved to, she seemed like the kind of person Xiaotian would have gotten along with swimmingly if they'd known eachother under better terms.

The Macaque growled and swiped out with his staff, knocking him on the side of his head.

And as his vision swam, as the world grew dark, he heard the macaque growl:

“Take him to the pit of despair, Looks like we've got a new test subject.”

He missed Red Son.

#Red Groom AU #Spicynoodleshipping #vega writes stories too #Princess Bride AU #catch me keeping outfit descriptions as vague as possible for flexibility's sake #MK Red Son #Qi Xiaotian #Six Eared Macaque

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bloodgoddarlin · 3 years

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Okay so this is just shamelessly my oc, I'm not even going to try to make it just gen reader bc I don't think I can

So Thysia (he/they) (I'll dm you the picrews I made of him btw)

His "human name" is Eli

He's not a God, not the way Protesilaus is or the other gods are

He's essentially the primordial spirit of sacrifice. (Not just the traditional kind but all kinds, from the most mundane to the self destructive kind. (I based him off of immolation, but that's not the only thing he's a part of))

He doesn't have the same direct control other gods have, he can only inspire or uninspire a population to have sacrificial tendencies (and if they do too much it'll push them become martyrs) but he doesn't need worshipers to keep him healthy. He just is. (Sacrifices and people with a sacrificial spirit make him better but by himself he just vibes)

However the pantheon he was with wouldn't listen. They would expect things he couldn't do and not appreciate him doing what he did (also quite a few refused to stop referring to him as a woman when he asked)

So eventually he got tired of it and left.

Fucked around as a human for a few centuries, in which the world kind of forgot him. (The older pantheon, who thought he was like them despite him telling them otherwise, assumed he was dead because of this)

One day he stumbles across the disciples of the blood god (and if they're anywhere as devoted as the anons, the amount of sacrificial energy there would really empower him)

He thought it'd be neat to see what kind of deity has such a fervent influence.

He's confident for one of the first times in. Ever

And I imagine him trying to challenge Protesilaus, maybe in a small way, not following an order the right way, or being a smart ass

(In his mind, he's kinda freaking out like "I'm doing this?? Holy shit what am I getting into" but he's high on confidence)

He at some point is in a physical altercation I imagine, and he, not being human, obviously is ludicrously strong in comparison to the human he appears to be.

How this transitions a romantic relationship I don't actually know but uhh it does, let's say.

Thysia makes it clear that there is more to him than he lets on, but that he doesn't want to talk about it. They aren't trying to lie and be like "I'm normal and nothing is weird", especially since they're in a legit relationship.

One day, in an attempt to idk do some business thing, the pantheon Thysia used to work with show up while they and Protesilaus are together.

This causes problems. The pantheon don't recognize him, they don't know him how he is and assume him to be dead. But he remembers them. God he remembers them. If he's feeling okay he'll just be uncomfortable and stiff. But if he's already off? Panic attack time baby! He'd try to put it aside as to not interrupt but he realizes that it's time to finally tell about his past. He initially wouldn't want to confront the pantheon but he could be persuaded because the support of the blood god himself telling them that they're great and a man could make anyone strong enough to fight a God.

This might be a little weird and I'm sorry if it's annoying or wildly mischaracterized (I tried to avoid Protesilaus having any real dialogue to avoid mischaracterizing him but I'm still nervous about it)

🌌anon

Oh my sweet Jesus I am SO SORRY for not answering this sooner!! Life has been Busy recently between my job & my birthday coming up in a few days plus also mental health being Not Great so I'm sorry :(

But this. I love this. Yes. Blood God is the type of man who would fight and kill for his partners, 110%.

Just imagine, Thysia is just vibing with his hot bf and the pantheon rolls up like "ayup" and he's all just like "shit. fuck. god dammit."

#snail answers #long post #blood god tag

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praphit · 3 years

Text

Godzilla vs Kong: A Good Christian Film

It was Easter weekend, so I had wanted to check out a good Christian film. There is some new hotness out there called "A Week Away".

It's a musical, about a troubled teen, who breaks the law; his options are then to either go to juvie or go to a Christian camp. Obviously, this teen would be white:) It's a spellbinding tale about right and wrong, about Jesus, and from the looks of the poster, it's also about some Christian booty - and the power thereof to save this young man's soul.

I was all set to watch it, but somehow "Godzilla vs Kong" ended up on my screen instead.

Weird, right??

But, I can find Jesus in any movie. I was sure I could find Him in this movie too, so I let this weird phenomenon take me:)

The trailer of G vs K had me hyped!

Godzilla and Kong, going WWE in various cities as their ring. I'm sold!

Then, they said "and here's the cast!" I really didn't care about the cast. I mean... let's say that a young Mike Tyson, time travels to 2021 and says he wants to fight Conor McGregor.

Young Time Traveling Mike Tyson vs McGregor??!! Are you kidding me??!! The world would literally stop as these two fought (aka Tyson murdering McGregor in the ring).

And then, the promoters spent all their time hyping Mike and Conor's training staff, and the ref, and the people calling the fight, and why these two are fighting - WHO CARES?! Some fights don't require much promo.

Unless they're going to interview Kong and Godzilla (and how great would that have been??), idc.

But, this movie sure does, so let's go through them, briefly:

Rebecca Hall -

I love her! I don't care about her in this movie, but I love her. She is the top smarty-pants scientist who's out there trying to manage this big thing(Kong). She's kinda like Dr. Fauci.

There's a cute,little deaf kid who everyone tells me is special.

I'm not going to make fun of this character, though I'd really like to, because she does some silly things. But, what kind of asshole makes fun of a cute, little deaf kid??

Alex Skarsgard -

He's eye-candy. Fun Fact: he learned sign language, so he could better communicate with Kaylee Hottle (cute, little deaf kid - who in real life, is a cute, little deaf kid). That's awesome! - he's still simply eye-candy.

Eiza Gonzalez -

They needed a Hispanic person on the team.

Millie Bobby Brown -

Her character is annoying, boring, and disrespectful to her dad (a triple threat). She kept referencing the last Godzilla movie (which in it, apparently, her and her dad had issues), as if anyone watched/remembers that movie.

Annnnnd there's a crazy black guy in this

- he's kinda like Alex Jones.

More interested now? Nah, me either.

Can we please get to the fight now?!

Nope, gotta talk about "the why?" first:

You see...

...

Godzilla... um... see, there's some sort of energy that... we need, cuz ya gotta have energy, right?? So, Kong... he... *sigh* damn. He's tracking the energy, but Godzilla is big like Kong, so... there was a war a long ago? Some rich dude is building some THING... there's a planet and a tunnel... and Kong has axe. Boom! PLOT! Kong works with the humans a lot here, which doesn't make much sense. It seems to me that the humans are doing just as much damage to him as Godzilla. Again, I don't care. Just say that Godzilla said Kong's mama is fat and ain't got no teeth, and that would have been enough for me.

An axe though??? What the hell??

JUST FIGHT!

When they finally do fight, it's very cool!

They fight in the water.

There's an epic battle at the end on some surreal planet full of butt eaters. Not joking, there's a scene where some creature swoops down and starts eating some dude's butt. I hope we learn more about Butteater Planet some day.

Like I said, Kong has an axe (and it's magical... yep)

And there's some Mortal Kombat-type action that goes on as well.

I loved the fighting, but it was only about 7-10 mins of the movie (and I'm probably being generous). The other hour and fifty minutes are about the cast and "the plot". It's called Godzilla vs Kong, dammit! That's all I need! It's the only reason I'm there! It's the only reason I didn't watch a privileged white boy sing songs about how he found love (in his loins) at a Christian Camp!

I recommend fast-forwarding through to the fights.

Better yet, just find the fights on Youtube. Trust me, the rest of the movie doesn't matter. The fights are dope,

but not enough in comparison to all of the bullshit surrounding them.

I would have rather have had 30 mins of fighting, maybe a couple of breaks for them to sit down, drink some water, and get coached up... maybe have some comedians commentate (Chappelle and Burr, maybe), and right back to it. If they do this again, tell the actors to get out of the way!

Grade: D-

I think I found the Jesus in this though:

Many pay attention to church twice a year. A lot of long drawn-out services. BUT, you can skip around, to get to the good stuff if you'd like.

If you want the gospel - BOOM John 3:16 - now you don't even need to sit through the service (and what makes a long service longer? - watching it online as many did to escape The Ronas)

If you want your shot of religion, so as to not feel guilty until Christmas, then skip the Catholic services, skip the "Black churches" , cuz if you don't, you'll be streaming that service all day and all night. Find that little church, who doesn't have a staff or musicians yet, their tech might not even work right for the live broadcast, the feed could go out on you, but hey... it still counts for that Easter credit.

My point is, Jesus doesn't want you to waste your time, so don't watch this movie. Amen?

Amen.

#godzilla vs kong #john praphit #praphitproductions.com #monsters #Movie Reviews #praphit #king kong #godzilla #rebecca hall #millie bobby brown #dave chappelle #bill burr #wwe #fighting #a week away #christian movies #easter

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calangkoh · 4 years

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What do you think is the difference in Al’s characterization/development in 03 vs. BH? Which Al do you prefer?

i could be totally wrong about everything im about to say. this is all my takeaway, and its going to differ from other people’s.

i think the main difference is in 03 al is the deuteragonist and in bh al is just a few steps above side character. In 03 al is as important as ed and has a lot more say on things. he acts more like an actual brother by butting heads with ed and speaking up more. bh al most of the time comes across as a sidekick. bh al’s character development isnt a big thing because theres not much TO develop when he’s more of a supporting role vs in 03 where he has many established flaws to be expanded on.

i am not criticizing bh here, and its not something im mad about in the slightest. but it is why i prefer 03, because the appeal of fma for me was always the brothers, and 03 focuses way more on the brothers (their growth, their struggles, their relationship, etc), ironically, more than brotherhood which has a wider cast and world it divides its attention on (and i like a wide cast and big world as much as an intimate character study, it just so happens in fma’s case it was always the brothers that captivated me over the world, so naturally the show that zeroes in on the brothers as opposed to zooming away from them more and more is the one i prefer).

03 al is rougher around the edges, has more obvious flaws, and his development seems to be about becoming more decisive and proactive and less passive, with a heavy emphasis on survivors guilt and the effects the armor has on his psyche. it spends more time giving al the attention his horrific situation deserves.

in bh, al is a sweet and supportive brother who serves to motivate ed and be useful to the plot when he can with his body. his development seems to center around accepting how useful his body is? which good for him, but illustrates my point of bh having its characters be more like set pieces. al only gets development in scenes where he can move the plot forward.

i love both als. bh al is easier to love because he’s very “nonoffensive” and “unobstrusive.” hes sweet and kind and has funny moments and is just an endearing boy. its impossible not to love al. 03 has the same qualities but with more of a challenge because 03 actually gives him substantial flaws to overcome. 03 al can be harder to love sometimes because of his flaws, because he makes mistakes and acts like an idiot and gets angry and is wrong sometimes. but he’s a much more deeply-written, well rounded, dimensional character for it.

but yknow sometimes a simpler and more clean cut character like bh al is what a story needs, and what the audience needs. a black and white wholly Good character who inspires us and simplifies things for us in impactful ways is just as valuable as a flawed and complicated one that makes us question ourselves. i love both als, i think they are both fantastic. obviously i prefer 03, though.

i think in terms of personality differences, and this is just my interpreation of their characters (and my interpretion of bh al could always be way off since i dont remember details of bh as well as 03), if they met youd be able to quickly see that 03 al is more outspoken. Even if 03 al is still the rational calm and observant one to eds impulsivity, he still has opinions and is attempting to broaden them. hes more inclined to question things, offer new possibilities, reach out to other people for connections, all for the purpose of understanding things, in my interpretation. Bh al is more strictly an observer. both are introverts, but 03 al comes across more extraverted because he reaches out more to find answers and will also actively converse and discuss with people, while bh al is almost all quietly thinking to himself.

03 al at the end of his journey is also noticibly rougher. bh al is still the big idealist and softie. hes smily, always beaming, always excited to indulge in life. 03 al is like that too but more often feels fake, because it partially is. theres more sadness behind the same smile thats on bh al’s face. bh al’s smile is bright and happy and cheerful but 03’s masks longing and regret. bh al is much less confrontational but he is much more sassy and snarky, now confident enough to embrace that inner snark and “dam im real done with ppls bullshit but im still a nice person so im not afraid to throw some shade.” 03 al is actually confrontational. he actually is able to get up in your face and tell you off (or if youre someone he cares about, lecture you to take better care of yourself because dammit life is too fragile and he wont stand idly by letting shit happen in front of him any more—hes very much like winry in this sense). hes snarky, yes, but his snark is more strictly for joking and when it comes to conflict he’s straightforward and direct.

Edit: not to say 03 al IS confrontational—hes still a sweet boy who will avoid it, but just by comparison to bh al he’s less afraid of conflict when its necessary. like “i hate conflict and will avoid it because i dont like to hurt other people but i WILL confront people if its necessary, even if i dont like doing it” while bh al is “i will avoid conflict at all costs but you WILL endure my snarky tongue if youre getting on my nerves, but if it actually bothers you and could potentially start a legit fight ill obviously keep my sassy comments to myself.” important to note they both still give everyone the benefit of the doubt and trust everyone is good at heart and no one wants to do any harm, and always have that assumption in their interactions. altho again, 03 al is more inclined to be paranoid “yes i will give everyone the benefit of the doubt but doesnt mean im not watching my back cause i dont trust so easily anymore and i dont want to be manipulated or taken advantage of ever again”

#ask

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demonologist-in-denim · 3 years

Text

Review of Falling Skies by VivatRex

The first Crowley redemption fanfic I ever came across was Falling Skies by VivatRex. This was shortly after 8x23 aired, and at the time, there wasn’t much fic out there involving Crowley that portrayed him as anything other than a villain. (There still isn’t, to be fair.) And there definitely wasn’t much out there in which Crowley actively sought redemption, much less worked alongside and eventually earned himself a place among the Winchester extended family. So the fact that Falling Skies was a slow burn Mooseley fic was just something I was willing to accept in order to read what I was desperately looking for in a Crowley fic.

I was inspired by this post to go back and reread Falling Skies for the first time since it was completed in 2015. All 328,000+ words of it. It’s certainly the longest fanfic I’ve ever read. And I’ve read fanfics that more closely align to what I’m looking for – but because this was my first Crowley redemption fanfic, I’ve never forgotten it. There are parts of it - scenes, even single lines - that I vividly recall. There are scenes and dynamics and plot points in this fic that were significant influences on my own writing, and are so deeply entrenched in my understanding of post-cure Crowley that rereading this fic felt like some tantalizingly familiar part of myself echoing back to me after a long absence. This is the longest review I have ever written, but then, it is a very long fic.

To quickly summarize the fic, Falling Skies begins after 8x23, with the angels falling to earth and Sam having collapsed from attempting to abort the demon trials. The overarching plot follows Dean, Sam, humanized Cas and resentfully cured Crowley as they attempt to deal with the fallout of Abaddon’s return and the shuttering of the Gates of Heaven. Along the way, a new villainous angel makes a play to rule both Heaven and Hell, angels and demons battle out their differences on Earth in a massive slaughter, and the Man Tablet is discovered, which reveals that the ultimate apocalypse involves merging all the known planes of existence into a hellish nightmare. Throughout all of this, Crowley struggles with a blood-born conscience that begins to form itself into a soul, a mental and emotional link that now connects him and Sam due to the incomplete cure, and rival selves: the cunning, successful King of Hell and a man haunted by his past, longing to make amends. It’s equal parts Mooseley, Destiel, and a season’s worth of near-world ending scenario.

Scenes from this fic that I’ll never forget:

The opening scene is Crowley in the church at the end of 8x23, beset by guilt and shame as he can feel for the first time in hundreds of years the depth of pain and suffering he’s caused.

His reaction shortly after the aborted cure to remembering he killed Meg. “Crowley’s stomach twisted in a painful knot at the thought of Meg…The unspeakable acts that hadn’t seemed unspeakable at all at the time…He promptly rolled down the Impala’s window. He leaned out, vomiting onto the road.”

The scene in which Crowley admits to Sam that he wouldn’t have been able to live with himself after the cure, “if you’d cured me, I would’ve hung myself the minute I found a long enough rope.”

The scene in which Crowley faces the demon who tortured him on the rack, and sees himself in comparison to that demon, hears his own awful words to Kevin, “What you people fail to under is that you are nothing” and “it makes him sick to what little remained of his soul to think that his mindset had been similar to this…only a few months prior. That he hadn’t been much better than this, once.”

Fergus’ death scene was particularly memorable. Driven by fear of his own impending death and going to Hell, he accidently kills someone he loves, and takes his own life by hanging. It’s not ever the backstory I would have imagined for him, but it was written with real heart behind it.

Having chosen to complete the cure, that Crowley receives complete forgiveness. Whatever substitutes for divine authority in this fic restores his soul fully, forgives him for all his past sins, and frees Crowley from the ruinous effects of damnation. “He’d been forgiven. Crowley sobbed into his hands.” It’s not the story I would have written for Crowley, but at a time when Crowley redemption fic was almost nonexistent, this was powerful.

In a rare moment in which Cas is being a self-righteous asshole, Dean remarks that “you’re really reminding me of someone…a douche bag I met back in ’08 who threatened to throw me back into Hell if I didn’t show him the respect he deserved.” Later, after he’s had time to calm down and begins to feel guilt, Cas asks “The ‘douche bag’ who raised you from Hell. Did you hate him?”

This fic offered a lot of the emotional struggles and scenes, the waypoints, I wanted to see along Crowley’s road of redemption.

His struggle with embracing more human emotions and perspective. His subconscious and then intentional rejection of the monster he used to be.

Being offered a choice between more power and more humanity, and after a long internal struggle, choosing humanity.

Ultimately choosing the Winchesters and (Crowley’s own conception of) the greater good over demonic self-interests. Choosing “one tiny forever [with people he cared about over] a never-ending existence” without them.

Crowley grasping – and openly admitting to valuing – humanity for its own sake. And that while in becoming less demon and more human, in becoming family with the Winchesters, he may lose his powers and influence, his immortality and near-invincibility, that he gained everything else. “Love, friendship, family, redemption…It’s all worth it!”

Crowley in this fic is written as having that change of heart and perspective because of and for Sam’s sake, and I very much write all of that happening for Crowley’s own sake and born of something innate to him, but seeing all of this in a fic assured me that I wasn’t the only one who thought that redemption was possible for Crowley. It meant a lot to me at the time. I guess, considering I was willing to reread this whole fic again all these year later, it still does.

Crowley admitting – to himself and to others – or directly referencing feelings of guilt, remorse and shame for his actions. It wasn’t explained away as just the effects of the cure. Something deep inside him had been changed, restored.

The very first scene resoundingly validated my own understanding of 8x23 – Crowley caught up in the flood of emotions brought on by the cure, seeing his actions for the first time as truly monstrous, hearing the cries of his victims. Holy mother of sin, the things I’ve done.

The admittance to himself that time alone in the bunker’s dungeon, in the dark, was too much time left to self-reflection and memories – the nagging of his conscience when he’d rather suppress it entirely.

The rawness of his emotions, his unfamiliarity with how to process them, “it had been a constant struggle not to start sobbing like a bloody child since Sam had almost cured him.”

His increasing hatred of other demons, not because of their disloyalty or incompetence, but because of what they symbolize: their delight in suffering, the misery they cause, that he was anything like them and might still be – or worse, might regress and become again.

In canon, Crowley asks Sam where to begin looking for forgiveness. He references wanting to make amends again in 10x17 when he tells Sam he thought making changes to Hell “might matter.” But after the cure, Crowley in canon never really expresses one way or another whether he thinks he’s capable of or can earn redemption. We’re left with subtext that suggests Crowley thinks he’s too far gone for that – or has been convinced that that’s the case by the attitude of the Winchesters and Cas. Fanfiction, this fic, offered up what canon couldn’t:

Crowley admitting to hating what he was and wanting to be better. Saying things like “I’ve been past the point of forgiveness for a very long time” and “There’s no forgiveness, not for a thing like me” and hating that.

Feeling beyond ashamed to have so thoroughly damned himself beyond any hope of redemption. “Even now, he would never forgive himself for all he’d done – and truthfully, he didn’t believe he deserved forgiveness.” Crowley feeling that way both kills me – because it’s not true, dammit – and fulfills a perverse need to see the character suffer through all the necessary growth to actually become that better self that is worthy of that redemption.

Crowley admits his own efforts are “not enough!...It’ll never be enough” compared with his sins. In canon, Crowley never says as much, but plenty of other characters, particularly the Winchesters, are more than happy to come to that conclusion for him.

Again, I am amazed – looking back at this fic – of how much of Crowley’s road to redemption that this fic established for me. One of the waypoints was Crowley coming to a point where he recognizes and then internalizes that being a demon is bad. That seems obvious, but Crowley had so much to gain from being a demon. Did gain so much, compared to his human life. But in becoming a demon, souls lose something, something of immense and irreplaceable value.

After the aborted cure, Crowley “had all the souls of the damned behind him, and he’d never felt weaker.”

And then there was the matter of watching what other demons did, the harm they caused – seeing the consequences and aftermath of the pain and suffer he had caused, how that effected the people around him, the people Crowley now cared about.

There’s coming to grips with the understanding that possessing a meatsuit is a horrible, violating experience for that person.

And that being this broken, corrupted thing is something Crowley wants to get away from, forget about, suppress. And as he increasingly becomes one of the boys, it’s something he tries – without success – to put behind him. “Would you believe that I’d almost forgotten?...Forgot what I was.”

Crowley’s road to redemption, his “transformation” in this fic, is slow. As appealing as the plot point of the demon cure was in canon, I couldn’t imagine the reforming of a soul of the demonic smoke to be anything other than slow, painful, and complicated. It had to be that way, it had to be something of value, to be a redemption that was actually earned.

Crowley’s humanity shines through a little at a time. In most of fanfiction, we go straight to the heart of the matter. That’s what we’re here for. But it’s so much more impactful when the glimpses of Crowley’s feelings and humanity are rare, and veiled behind snark, dismissal, and misdirection.

Crowley has moments of both begrudged self-reflection and open admission. He surprises himself in moments with the sincerity of his own remarks.

Grapples with longing for humanity and the good aspects that come with that, as much as he hates human weakness.

He often considers himself not human enough, and is hard on himself for that.

He learns to ask for help, and the scene in which he asks for help in completing the cure is something I longed to see play out in canon.

There is a scene where a character can see Crowley’s true form – what an angel sees when looking at humans, demons and other beings – and can see that it’s healing from the corrosive effects of damnation and being on Hell’s rack. This is something that I’ve never explored in my own work, but have often thought about and wondered how to visualize for the reader. Visualize Crowley “regaining pieces of his soul,” as Eliot in Leverage recently put it.

There are moments in the fic in which Crowley’s demonic instincts and humanity align, have the same goal, which is something I love and would have wanted to see explored in canon.

At one particular vulnerable moment, Crowley admits to the cure having saved him – “You saved me” – from the damage done to a soul corrupted into a demon. Saved him from himself, stopping him from doing more evil in the future.

The tragedy of that, of course, is that the Winchesters didn’t save Crowley intentionally, didn’t do it for Crowley’s sake, and because of that, Crowley in canon could only begrudge having been transformed from an “icy, unfeeling, ruthless, perfect” demon into a “messy, emotional” shadow of himself.

Even as Crowley laments “not being human enough” in this fic, he is also conflicted about not being demon enough.

The part of Crowley that still revels in depravity and violent strength, in ultimate power, can’t stand the idea of being weakened by human nature. He can’t believe he’s starting to feel all those rainbow, feel-good emotions that make such fools of the Winchesters and their kind.

Equally, not being demon enough undermines Crowley’s legitimacy as King of Hell. If he isn’t the most ruthless, sadistic, uncaring monster out there, he isn’t fit to rule Hell. And not being the king, who is he? And from where does he obtain his power, his means of security and self-preservation? It is as much an existential crisis as it is a matter of wanting to hold onto ill-gotten power and authority.

Giving into his more human side, “would he even be able to rule Hell,” or would he be reduced back to the nothing that he was before bashing his way through the ranks?

And if he gives up humanity for being King? For power? At least then “I’ll have power. I’ll have respect. I’ll have the best a demon can have. The best I can have…It’s all I can do.”

Even in admitting letting go of humanity secures him power, Crowley admits that he chooses that because it’s all he thinks he’s worthy of, a sad consolation prize. Crowley never admits as much in canon, but I absolutely read all this as the reason for his inability to let go of Hell and move to join the Winchesters sooner.

Crowley’s perspective on being king in this fic and how that perspective changes over the course of the slow burn is perhaps the greatest strength of the fic.

Throughout much of the fic, Crowley legitimately loves being king. He loves the authority, he loves the power. The fic leans heavily on his cunning and strategic mind, something that canon failed to capitalize on after Crowley became a second-tier member of Team Free Will. While reading, I honestly believed that the author was writing a Crowley that loved the crown and would begrudge giving it up.

But slowly, what he loves about being a king cannot outweigh everything he hates about Hell, demonkind, and what being king costs him.

Very much in line with canon, Crowley gets to a point where he is forced to admit to himself that despite all the perks and benefits, he actually hates being the King of Hell.

He believes he has to keep being king to keep Hell in line and less of a threat – just like in canon. And uses that as a justification, along with love of power, to remain trapped in his own personal hell.

A few aspects of being King of Hell that the fic explores that canon doesn’t include:

The brilliant idea that “Hell chooses who leads it.” Demonic loyalty shifts from an unsuitable leader to a powerful alternative, and when that loyalty shifts, the power of Hell shifts from to that particular demon or Knight of Hell. That’s what gives the king (or queen) of Hell their immense power and legitimizes their authority. Love that idea – it almost makes it like a…demonocracy.

Crowley feels responsible towards the overall protection of demonkind. This is somewhat suggested in canon, such as when Crowley refers to Bobby Singer as being a surge to “his kind.” But it doesn’t have quite the paternalistic quality to it, compared to in the fic when Crowley gets angry that Abaddon is using “his subjects” as cannon fodder against angels. “Yes, they were traitorous, weak-minded prats, but they were still his.”

But the most significant aspect of Hell and demons this fic explores – in my opinion – is how Hell turns souls into demons. Falling Skies delves into Crowley’s own torture on the rack, “he kept seeing flashes – brief, vivid visions, memories” of “blood and laughter and screaming ad begging and pain.”

Souls are strapped to the rack and torn apart, “destroyed brick by brick…violated and torn down” and then, made into a demon, “pieced back together into something else…something evil. Something poisonous and wrong.” This unmaking so as to create from the ruins departs from the idea that a soul caves or gives into to evil in Hell, and instead invests in the idea that it is something done to them, that it is a perversion of everything that they are, which in my opinion is a much more compelling take on demons.

Hell doesn’t only take a soul’s humanity, it takes their memories as well. Crowley references how “his torture in Hell had been enough to erase almost every part of his human life. He honestly only knew the barest details of the man that was Fergus.”

What he does remember is primarily the bad memories, as if Hell intentionally allowed him to hold onto those memories to either fuel his damnation or to discourage him from being nostalgic for his human life.

Much of what Crowley actually feels, even as a demon, is suppressed, “drowned in smoke”, numbing him to his actions and clouding his own thoughts and emotions in Hell’s influence. “He’d never realized how much he’d lost, how much he’d blocked out, how much he hadn’t even thought was worth remembering.”

All of this significantly influenced my own ideas about what it meant to be a demon – to be a semi-cured demon – and Crowley’s existential struggle.

Some smaller, more personal characteristics of Crowley that this fic influenced in my own writing include:

Crowley being a cook, and rolling his eyes at the boys fearing he’s going to poison them

Crowley referring to or thinking of the Winchesters as “his humans” rather than him being “their demon”

Crowley stating in fanfiction long before that final scene in 12x23 that he “always wins”

pointing out how even before the cure, he has carried his own weight in the saving-the-world department. “Who helped you stop the apocalypse? Me. Who helped you take out Castiel when he tried to pay god? Me. Who helped you stop Dick and his cronies? Me! ARE YOU NOTICING A TREND HERE?”

In this fic, Crowley takes a younger meatsuit – the son of his canon meatsuit. Which made me very uncomfortable and felt hypocritical, because by this point, Crowley is very much one of the good guys and should have had qualms about that. But then angelic powers make it possible for Crowley to take that meatsuit and the person is snapped back into existence, whole and unaware, and Crowley is visibly relieved by that. Vessels and meatsuits has always been something that the canon never properly addressed or explored. And while Crowley taking just a younger version of his vessel felt like ageism here, at least the author addressed the moral complications of his choice.

Crowley’s central, guiding concept of redemption and what it means to do the right thing was also established for me in this fic.

He has the chance to murder the demon that tortured him, that led him on his path to damnation. The demon attempts to play the mortality card, telling Crowley to “kill again and blacken your heart even more.” And Crowley, in perfect character, replies “in for a penny, in for a pound.”

Crowley truly believes himself to be beyond redemption, but that he can use his damnation as another resource in the larger fight for what is right. If he’s already damned, no reason to hold back – he can do the ugly, messy things the others can’t, what might even need to be done to secure the win for Team Free Will.

He reflects on his changing perspective of morality, how he thought good and evil were just human concepts that got in way, that people mistakenly draw line between good and evil when really it’s a spectrum that people move up and down all the time.

What he comes to believe in, with his semi-restored humanity, is choices. “That night that Sam had injected him with human blood, that night he’d come close to being saved (or doomed?), he had seen the darkness inside of himself, and he had hated it…there was good and evil within everyone, or at least the potential for it. What mattered was what side you chose, or at least which you chose the most often, which you kept trying to fight your way back to…For the time being, Crowley was not evil. And really, he rather liked that.”

That idea of Crowley fighting his way back to a better version of himself, to his morality and humanity being defined by his choices – that is central to me in Crowley’s character and road to redemption.

Much of Crowley’s relationship with the boys post-cure for me was based on this fic as well.

With the cure coursing through him, seeing Dean as an actual person for the first time.

His professional respect for them morphing into admiration, into protectiveness, because “they tried. And that should count for something, damn it.”

His understanding that the boys’ don’t just use people up – they do so by giving them something to believe in, something to fight for, and letting the cause use them up.

Dean making a deal with the angels to kill the King of Hell, and being unable to go through with it, then choosing to stand between Crowley and the angels.

Crowley recognizing his and Cas’ similarities, discussing with him the benefits and difficulties of being human or semi-human.

He and Cas getting a drink together and sharing their woes.

Cas admitting that his old angelic biases being in the way of seeing before how alike they are.

Crowley and Cas joking that in their team-up, Crowley is Dean and Cas is Sam.

Idea explored in this fic that I loved and want to flesh out in a fic:

Closing the Gates of Hell means all the demons, including Crowley, will be trapped down there forever. And a) Crowley considers or b) the Winchesters consider without telling Crowley - turning him human so that he won’t be trapped down there with demonkind.

A third or even second attempt at the cure might not be possible, or not take full effect.

Turning a soul into a demon takes proper time, that “hurrying the torture, letting out the souls before they’re fully cooked…churning out demons with bits of human still left in them. You’d think it would make them less dangerous, but it just makes them a hell of a lot worse. They’re out of their minds and out of control.”

And I very much appreciated that it referenced the reality that in killing a possessed meatsuit, the boys were killing a victim, a possessed person. That is something that sort of fell away and became an acceptable collateral damage, and never sat very well with me.

Falling Skies also introduced a loyal lackey for Crowley by the name of Laharl who I loved as a character. Crowley very much needed that someone in later seasons.

Castiel attempting to heal Crowley, and him suffering an instinctual fear that the angel intends to smite him.

The boys – and Crowley – struggling with the unwelcome knowledge that if Crowley chooses to become king again, there will come a time when their interests don’t align, and they will have to be enemies again. How much Crowley doesn’t want that, can’t bear the thought he might hurt them again.

I know this is a really long review. And I honestly don’t expect anyone to read it all the way through. I wrote it more for myself than anything. Because, even though there is plenty about the way that I write Crowley that differs from the way this author did, there is also so much here that influenced my understanding of him and his road to redemption. When there was no other fanfiction about Crowley fighting his way out of the dark, about choosing the Winchesters and to be better, there was Falling Skies. And I will always be immensely grateful for that.

Read the fic on AO3

#spn #spn fanfic #crowley #fic rec #happy sulphur saturday

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wordsfromthesol · 5 years

Text

I Don’t Need a Babysitter (1/2)

Author: @wordsfromthesol Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader Warnings: Uhmmmm…violence kinda? Cursing probably? Word Count: 1.8k Requested: @lemontree205

Part Two

“Hey Bats, I could really use a favor.”

“Hal Jordan asking for my help. What could be so important?”

“The Corps is sending me on another deep space mission. I’m still not sure how long I’ll be gone.”

“I’m sure we can hold down the fort here on Earth without you Hal.”

“No…that’s not. Listen, my kid sister is at Gotham University. I’d been checking up on her, but now I won’t be able to.”

Bruce held up his hand in acknowledgement. “You got it Hal.”

“Listen, she doesn’t know…”

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t planning on going up to her in the Bat suit.”

“Awe man, so even she’ll know who Batman is before I do?”

“No.” Before Hal could question him further, Bruce climbed into the Zeta Tube and was gone.

“Alright boys. I have an assignment for you.” Bruce looked around at his boys all sitting at the dining room table. “Y/N Y/L/N.” He threw a file on the table.

“What’d she do? Drug runner? Arms dealer? Assassin?” Jason started spurting off anything he could think of.

“GL’s half-sister?” Tim questioned as he scanned through the file.

“Don’t tell me we are babysitting.” Jason huffed out, clearly agitated.

“No. I just need someone to check on her every day. You can all take turns.”

“How did you rope us into this?” Dick arched his eyebrow and smirked towards his adoptive father.

“Hal asked for a favor. And it’s family.”

“Alright, we’ll check on the brat. Is she at least close by?” Jason words were sharp yet understanding. It was for family.

“Gotham University, Junior, Double Major, Physics and Structural Engineering.” Tim rattled off the facts in the file.

“I still do not see the purpose in this. Can the girl not defend herself?” Damian finally spoke up.

“I’m sure she can, but I’d rather be safe.” Bruce tried to explain to his youngest.

“I’ll take tomorrow.”

“Jay, did I just hear you offer to take the first shift?” Dick’s eyebrows raised questioningly.

“I figure then I won’t have to ruin my weekend.”

As night fell Jason left for patrol. He stopped by your apartment every few hours, watching as all you seemed to do was study. Finally, Jason got bored and headed back to the cave.

“This girl is so boring. Why does she need us to check on her?” Jason complained to Tim as soon as he arrived.

“I’m sure Hal is just worried. He doesn’t know how long this mission will take.”

“Well, fair warning…bring a book on your shift.”

This went on for a few weeks and all the boys were getting bored with your lifestyle.

“I don’t understand how all she does is study.” Jason complained yet again.

“I have theorized she simply has no companions.” Damian joined in.

“Maybe she just prefers her studies. People can be tiresome.” Tim reasoned, understanding of your demeanor.

“But even you break away from the computer sometimes Timmy.” Dick pointed out.

“It just baffles me that she’s related to Hal at all.” Tim thought about the Green Lantern’s personality in comparison to yours. “Wait…it’s Wednesday night. Whose turn is it? Shouldn’t they be out by now?”

The boys all looked around at one another, unsure of whose shift it was.

Finally. You thought peering out your window. There was no sign of any vigilantes staring you down. Though you had to admit, their presence did force you to study a lot more than usual. Worried that your time was limited, you stalked out of your apartment and headed to an abandoned warehouse – your usual training spot.

Your muscles ached at the movements. The two weeks you had gone without were really taking their toll. You stepped out of the warehouse and immediately realized you’d been found. Shit. Not only could you feel someone watching you, your eyes darted immediately to the vigilante. You just told them more than they needed to know with one look.

They soon figured out that Jason, unshockingly, was the one missing patrol. He set out immediately and a panic set in when he got to your apartment and you were no where in sight. Thankfully, with Tim’s help they were able to trace your location.

Jason waited on a nearby rooftop, catching glimpses of your routine through the dirty and broken windows. What is she doing? Your eyes darted to him as soon as you stepped outside. That couldn’t be a coincidence. That skill comes with training. He waited, wondering what you would do next, though he was slightly disappointed, as you continued forward as if you hadn’t seen him at all. That’s impossible right. She looked right at me. Didn’t she?

You knew you had to play this right. Hal had gone too far sending babysitters while he was away. As if you didn’t know he was a Green Lantern. As if he thought you couldn’t take care of yourself. You decided to pretend as if you hadn’t seen Red Hood at all, going on your way back to your apartment. Though you were disappointed you didn’t see any action tonight, at least you were able to train. As you got back you immediately went to sleep, hoping to throw off any suspicions the vigilante had.

Now she’s just going to sleep? I need to get into that warehouse. Jason headed back the way you came and crawled in through one of the broken windows. He looked around, both in confusion and shock. Targets littered with bullets and arrows filled the walls. Training dummies and equipment were scattered about the space. Upon further investigation he even stumbled upon a locked room. He rang Tim upon seeing the security system connected to the door.

“Hey Timbo, you busy?”

“I guess not. What did do you? Did you find Y/N?”

“Yeah yeah, she’s asleep. I’m looking into something and it’s got a security system. Do you have a minute to hack it?”

“I suppose, but you owe me. Take my shift tomorrow for babysitting.”

“Done.” Jason would’ve offered to take it anyways. You were just starting to get interesting.

Jason was in awe as he pushed open the door. The weapons and gadgets cache was truly impressive, especially for a college student. There can’t be a vigilante in Gotham we don’t know about…right? He thought to himself as he rifled through your stash. Jason was fully invested and completely caught off guard when you approached behind him, pistol aimed at his chest.

“Care to leave my shit alone Hood?”

“Care to tell me why you have all this shit?”

“Not really.” Silence ensued as he slowly picked up one of the throwing knives and inspected it. You holstered your gun, “Look. If my brother sent you, I’m releasing you from service. Clearly, I can take care of myself.”

“But you were so boring!”

“Yeah, on purpose. So you idiots would leave me alone. You weren’t exactly subtle with the check-ins.” You walked over and grabbed the throwing knife from his hand. “Then again neither was Hal.”

“Wait, you know?”

“Dude, he’s not exactly subtle with the glowing green shit.”

“Hm. So are you a vigilante? Why haven’t I heard of you?”

“Probably because I don’t go around in some ridiculous costume.”

“Ha! So you are a vigilante.”

You rolled your eyes, “I don’t know if I would call it that. Either way, your services aren’t needed.”

“Unfortunately for you, I don’t think I could get out of them. Batman kinda promised your brother we’d keep an eye on you.”

“Wow. He must be desperate to ask the Bat for a favor. What happened?”

“Uhm…I’m not sure –” Jason words were cut off as you brought a small dagger to his throat. “Okay okay.” He threw his hands up in defense. “All Hal said was the Corps were sending him on a deep space mission. He didn’t know how long before he would be back.”

“He’s been on those before. What are you not telling me?”

“That’s all I know!”

You sighed, dropping the dagger to the floor. “Dammit Hal.” You mumbled, knowing full well there was more to this.

“So why,” Jason gestured around, “all this.”

“It started a few months after Hal became Green Lantern…wait, what am I getting out of telling you this?”

“How about I help you find out what’s really going on.” You look at him, skeptical. “I guarantee I have a lot more resources than you, no offense.”

“Fine.” You continued with your story, “Anyways, as soon as I found out I knew the idiot would become a target. Me being family, automatically makes me a target too.”

“So this is all out of self-preservation?” Jason questioned, he had watched you for weeks, he knew there had to be more to it.

“Yes and no. I never want to make Hal chose between saving me or saving the world. Hell even saving me or saving one other person. So I began to train and every now and then I head to the Narrows to get some real world experience…with the added bonus of helping people.”

From then on the two of you were virtually inseparable. Jason did everything he could to get his brothers shifts to watch you. Whether it was making bets he knew he would lose or asking for favors. He always made sure you knew if he wasn’t your babysitter for the night. Unfortunately, the two of you had found virtually nothing on why your brother was so worried about you. Granted you didn’t have much to go on to begin with.

“He’s hiding something, right?” Dick asked Tim and Damian one night while Jason was out with you.

“It does seem like Todd has been trying to obtain babysitting duty. He purposefully lost a bet with Drake just yesterday.” Damian commented on the matter.

“And one with me last week.”

“You don’t think he’s skipping out?” Tim asked with a worried expression.

“He better not, Bruce would have all our heads. Look up his location.” Dick motioned to Tim, suddenly concerned about his brother’s nightly activities.

Tim’s eyes grew wide. “He’s at a warehouse.”

“What? Where?”

“Dick…there’s something we didn’t tell you. Remember that night we forgot whose turn it was?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, Y/N wasn’t at her apartment. I was able to trace her through traffic cams to a warehouse. This warehouse.”

“And now they are back there?”

“That’s not all.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well I didn’t think it meant anything. But later that same night Jason had me hack a security system. I checked his location…he was back at that warehouse.”

“So what is it?”

“It seems to have been abandoned years ago.”

“Why do we not just go see for ourselves?” Damian interjected.

“Good point, Dami. Let’s suit up…just in case.”

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polar534 · 3 years

Text

Diet Drabble #6: Saying Goodbye

And so, you have finally made it to the end of my week of drabbles. Congratulations! Or at least you've skipped to the very end in which I need to tell you right now, You've come to the right place. If there was ever a time to jump in, it would #6.

What happens when Lucia is confronted with the fact that her baby sister has been turned to stone?

Now the precursor to this one is going to take a bit of backstory. Firstly before you go any farther I would please ask, no beg of you, to please go check out this fic exploring this concept in the first place. It was written by the incredible @yellowpie and deserves much more attention.

Have you properly shown them and their heartbreaking fic the love they deserve? Good. Now for the reason I tackled this. I was challenged by legendary archive master EarthControl who runs the TOH Recommended Fanfic List on reddit to make something that would elicit tears and at the time the pain from YellowPie's fic was the only thing living rent free in my mind. I wanted to try my hand at it and felt it was my best chance at causing some real damage. What we were all left with was this.

Enjoy~

(And stick around for tomorrow's post to round out this week of writing. It's something I know quite a few of you have been waiting for. ;D)

"…Sis?" "Yeah?"

"I'm scared." "Yeah that's what nightmares do silly. No need to be scared though. It was just a dream."

Promise me." "What?" "Promise me. Promise we won't ever leave each other." "Ok. I promise squirt. You're never getting away from me."

...

Lucia's hand fell flat against the cold stone in front of her. It didn't take long before it slipped off, the smooth stone quickly becoming slick with tears. Her eyes stared straight ahead, completely unable to see, her brain refusing the sight that was before her.

"It's going to be ok."

A hand touched her back. The contact physically burned as the older girl recoiled sharply from whatever comforting gesture had been attempted. A hiss escaped her as she whipped around. Eyes were everywhere. They were everywhere. Surrounding her. Closing in.

Her pain was reflected in all of them. Her form, it's baggy green jacket and red hat, it was all so colorful. So colorful in comparison to the grey stone she was standing beside.

That wasn't right.

This. Wasn't. Right.

It had always been the opposite.

She wasn't meant to be the colorful one.

Lucia backed up fearfully, unable to continue facing those eyes. Her back hit the cold stone she had just been facing and she froze. A shiver traveled through her body like ice, freezing her chest mid panic attack.

"I'll see you after camp."

Her voice was so clear. The memory so vivid.

"I'm sorry kid. I… really am. She was the brightest light I have ever met."

Lucia began to shake. Her knees were weak, weaker then they had ever been before. They were ready to collapse.

This couldn't be happening. This had to be a dream.

She whipped around, confident in her fleeting thought that when she did, the face on the statue would have changed, the truth that was impossible would become just that: impossible.

Her sister's face stared back. Lifeless and cold.

Luz Noceda.

Stone.

Dead.

"We should probably get you inside…" The voice kindly suggested as once more her skin burned with another 'kind' gesture.

Lucia let the pain sear her skin. It didn't even feel real. She continued staring into eyes that no longer could see back, her breath and body freezing too.

It should have been her. She was the useless one.

Someone was speaking to her, but she couldn't hear anything outside of the dull roar that sounded in her ears.

It should have been her. She never saw the world the way Luz did. With the hope and life and spark that her sister looked at everything.

The way she looked at her, like Lucia could do anything.

'I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye...'

"Kid?"

The hand from earlier was back, it moved to her shoulder to gently turn the teen around. Lucia slapped it away with a growl, her other hand forming a fist and smacking it down onto the statue in front of her.

The dull sound of her flesh hitting the stone echoed around the space they were in, the action causing a hush among the crowd that had now gathered.

THUD

Her hand buzzed in pain but Lucia still couldn't feel anything outside of the aching in her chest.

"It should have been me!" Lucia growled, raising her fist once again. THUD.

Dust flew from the stone as it shook ever so slightly.

"She didn't deserve this." THUD.

"I shouldn't have let her go. I should have BEEN there with her." THUD.

Blood splattered the ground as Lucia picked up her fist once again, her hand a torn and shredded mess. Still the statue didn't budge, it didn't answer her screams choosing instead to remain quiet.

"Why wasn't I there?! DAMMIT!" THUD.

THUD.

"WHY DIDN'T I GET TO SAY GOODBYE TO MY SISTER?!"

CRACK!

Lucia slowly peeled her fist off of the statue in front of her. Where it had hit last was a large and noticeable crack. On the once-metal sigil that connected the cape her sister wore, her fist had broken through the stone. The design, a circle with a triangle on top of it, with a line running through the center, had permanently been separated in two by a jagged scar.

There was a growl behind her. In an instant Lucia was yanked backwards by her jacket, a clawed and furious hand separating her from her sister.

"ENOUGH. Heartbroken or not if you think I'm just going to stand there and let you ruin my kid's rest you have another thing coming!" The older lady snarled at her as Lucia was forced to face her.

The teen's eyes hardened, her glare sharpening to a point as the words the lady spoke physically burned in her ears.

Her kid? "You have no right to call her your kid. You weren't there when she was younger. You didn't work long hours to provide for her. You didn't hold her at night when she woke up terrified from a nightmare. You barely knew my sister." "Luz changed my life. Everyone she came in contact with here, she changed for the better! It was because of her that this place is free. That it's flourishing!" The lady argued back fiercely. "Don't lecture me about what she did for you." Lucia snarled.

"Look kid, I know you're hurting but-" "But nothing! It's because of you that she ended up here in the first place! It's because of you that she was trapped here! It's because of you, because of this damned place, that's SHE'S GONE!"

The woman who had introduced herself as Eda looked as if she had been slapped. Her entire body seemed to deflate as she looked at the ground. Lucia could hardly see through her tears and her fists clenched tightly at her side.

"That’s… that's not entirely untrue. I admit it." Lucia spun on her heel, too disgusted to face the woman in front of her, but the only other face that greeted her was her sister's. Luz's hopeful smile hurt more then the hand that lay shredded, bruised and bloodied at her side. Lucia's eyes quickly fell, unable to continue facing it. They landed on the stone clasp she had broken as a breath caught in her chest.

The crack was obvious.

It was all she could see.

"I know you didn't mean it kid." Eda spoke quietly from behind her.

Lucia, I know you didn't mean it. Those things you said. You're stressed. You know you can always talk to me, right? Lucia's legs were moving before she knew it. Her feet pounded the unfamiliar terrain as she ran, Eda's voice calling out for her past the thundering heartbeat in her aching and painful chest. The only thing Lucia could hear however was her sister's voice.

Just like you promised me, I promise that I'm always going to be right here.

#toh #the owl house #sibling au #lucia noceda #beta luz #canon luz #eda clawthorne #angst #i wrote this literally as a challenge to make someone cry #luz noceda #lucia probably needs a hug #but also don't touch her because that's only going to hurt more #mentions of death #mentions of blood #please go check out yellowpie's fic #or i'm going to disown all of you

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davidmann95 · 4 years

Text

Got a handful of DC-solicit asks, so I’ll just write up my thoughts on the whole batch again.

Mister Miracle: The Source of Freedom #1: The BALLS to not only do the next Mister Miracle thing after King and Gerads, but to do it with Shilo Norman and therefore invite Seven Soldiers comparisons as well. I wouldn’t be that interested, but the preview art that came with the announcement looked fun so this is a maybe for me.

Wonder Girl #1: I got a Yara Flor ask so I’ll go more into detail with that, but this sounds...not good.

Future State: Gotham #1: Hahaha, thanks, call me in six months if the next team does something there’s a reason to give a shit about. Except...wait, Dennis Culver cowrote that E Is For Extinction Secret Wars mini, dammit this might be good. Either way though, god willing we get a Future State: Metropolis book by Dan Watters too.

Legends of the Dark Knight #1: Hopefully this going with Sensational Wonder Woman means there’s a similar Superman anthology in the cards too, but I won’t hold my breath. Darick Robertson doing Batman is enticing, but I’m not familiar with his work as a writer and the premise doesn’t sound that gripping so I’ll wait and see. That Francavilla variant though? DC, blow that up to poster size and you’d make a mint.

Milestone Returns: Infinite Edition #0: Hmm. I got love for Static, but I might wait for further announcements and/or buzz before taking the plunge on this one.

DC Festival of Heroes: The Asian Superhero Celebration #1: This is a SERIOUSLY stacked lineup, definite buy.

Stargirl Spring Break Special #1: Impeccable timing, DC. It feels like it must be some kind of statement that there are no Morrison members of the Seven Soldiers in the mix (even swapping out Ystin for the original version of Shining Knight no one cares bout) - we focus on the Moore fixation, but there’s enough tidbits that I really do feel like Johns probably flat-out hates Morrison. And what’s this ‘secret eighth soldier’ nonsense? There’ve always been eight soldiers, people have been joking about it forever!

Justice League: Last Ride #1: Discussed that announcement here.

Batman: Earth One Vol. 3: *blinks*

*blinks again*

*squints at the cover art*

...Geoff Johns are you seriously trying to step to Morrison and use the Miagani tribe? YOU SEE WHAT I MEAN PEOPLE

I Am Not Starfire: Interesting concept that seems like it pushes into indie-flavored territory as much as DC’s superhero output just about ever has, if word-of-mouth is good there’s a decent chance I’ll get this.

Action Comics #1031: Wonder if this is serious about the potential of Kryptonian refugees, given PKJ suggested the idea in Worlds of War and that could play a significant part in the New Krypton stuff from Bendis’s Legion (with Johnson being clear he’s following up on a lot of Bendis’s ideas with his own Superman run).

Superman #31: This sounds big-time like Johnson hammering Superman into a swords-and-sorcery shape for an arc since that’s his bag, but Superman’s malleable enough for that to work so I’m not complaining.

American Vampire 1976 #8: Still not getting, so.

Batman #108: Tynion’s well and truly figured out how to game the direct market’s dopiest instincts, hasn’t he? Well, as long as that’s in service of him getting to continue doing weird Batman stuff with Jorge Jimenez like introducing whatever the ‘Unsanity Collective’ is, that’s fine with me. And more Ghostmaker!

Batman: Black & White #6: Not as packed for the finale as some previous issues, but still looking good. And there’s really never gonna be a ‘last’ Scott Snyder Batman story, is there? Sure it’ll be good but that’s kind of a shame, his Detective #1027 feature really felt like a nice full circle.

Batman: The Detective #2: Guess I wasn’t the only one wondering if it was a stealth DKR prequel and they wanted to cut that notion out at the knees.

Batman/Catwoman #6: Still very down for it, but BOY that Batwoman costume Mann debuted on Twitter.

The Batman & Scooby Doo Mysteries #2: I recently finally started reading Sholly Fisch and companies’ Scooby-Doo Team-Up! recently after getting the whole run for free on ComiXology earlier this year and have fallen in love with it, so I’m totally grabbing this digitally.

Batman/Superman #18: “The Dark Knight and the Man of Steel are on a mission to stop the godlike Auteur.io from destroying the pocket worlds he’s created...but where on Earth did Auteur.io even come from? The answer starts not on Earth at all, but with an ancient cult of World Forger worshippers on a planet far away—and if our heroes are to have a prayer of stopping this mythic behemoth, they’ll need to get to the bottom of his power source, and quick! It’s a race against time as the parallel lives of entire worlds hang in the balance!”

Anonymous said: Haha is Yang really doing Superman & Batman vs. Zack Snyder and the Snyder Cult (look up “auter” if you don’t know what I mean)? That’s fucking hilarious, especially since he apparently comes from the World Forge which is where all the shitty Earths full of bad ideas are made. Pretty pointed criticism there if I’m reading it right.

I’ve seen two or three people other than this anon independently conclude this arc is about the Supermen and Batmen of the Multiverse teaming up to stop Zack Snyder from destroying them all and at this point I’m ready to ask my LCS owner if I’m allowed to pay more than cover price for this run.

Batman: Urban Legends #3: Much more into this after the Grifter and Outsiders stories in Future State.

Catwoman #31: No reason not to assume this’ll continue to be great.

Challenge of the Super Sons #2: Good for the folks who want this, and that Nick Bradshaw variant is fun.

Crime Syndicate #3: I wanna be convinced to get this book, but the interviews are not persuading me.

Detective Comics #1036: How long is Mora sticking around?!

The Dreaming: Waking Hours #10: Another one I’ve got nothing to say about because I’ve never been getting it.

The Flash #770: Actually really excited to hear about how bad this run will suck now that I know it’s by the mind behind that “Geoff Johns’ OC - do not steal - beats up the Grant Morrison DC future” catastrophe from Future State.

Green Lantern #2: Really couldn’t wait a month for Far Sector to wrap up, huh?

Harley Quinn #3: Still not interested, but that *is* a nice cover.

The Joker #3: There’s a very real possibility I’ll have dropped the book by this point if it turns out to be the illustrated editorial mandate I get the feeling it could be, but fingers crossed.

Justice League #61: Not complaining, but wow, this really is Naomi 2 since Campbell’s busy in order to provide the necessary material for the CW show.

Looney Toons #260/Mad #20: Were these grouped with the rest of the solicits before?

Man-Bat #4: Very curious how this’ll be received, given nobody much cares about Man-Bat but Wielgosz seems to be quickly becoming a favorite.

The Next Batman: Second Son #2: Hadn’t realized this was only 4 issues - guess for at least one of them it’ll be the Luke Fox book everyone expected in the first place.

Nightwing #80: Dick Grayson vs. Heartless, not how I expected the DC/Kingdom Hearts crossover to happen but I’ll take it. That variant though? ALL TIMER:

The Other History of the DC Universe #4: I was trying to figure out who the focus of #4 would be since we know #5 is about Thunder and Lightning, forgot Montoya was confirmed.

Robin #2: Wanna care, so don’t care.

Rorschach #8: I will get it and probably like it.

RWBY/Justice League #2: My thoughts here will be their own post because there’s something particularly notable, but:

Anonymous said: Have you seen the BATtleaxe from the new art for RWBY/Justice League?

Yes, anon. Yes I have.

Sensational Wonder Woman #3: Eh, premise doesn’t grab me but maybe.

Strange Adventures #10: God I love the book about how Adam Strange sucks.

Suicide Squad #3/Teen Titans Academy #3: Hahahahaha

Superman: Red and Blue #3: Fiffe and Stokoe doing Superman stories!!! And...Nick Spencer. With Christian Ward art?! Sigh, fine, hopefully it’ll be Nick Spencer doing a nice little comedy, and not having Grant Morrison Superman throwing his t-shirt away because he grew up and realized changing things is too hard. A horrible shame Pope is doing the main cover though, the allegations against him I guess never really got any attention. At least there’s this JPL variant:

The Swamp Thing #3: Swampy will never be my guy but very happy for those who dig him, because I imagine this’ll be terrific.

Truth & Justice #4: Normally I wouldn’t care at all, but what I’m hearing on Twitter about this is a crying shame - that Jeff Trammell is really talented and Red Hood is a favorite of his and this is likely to be one of Jason Todd’s few Actually Good comics, but that artist Rob Guillory is a bullying transphobic piece of shit. Sucks all around.

Wonder Woman #772: I was so excited for this run, and then Immortal Wonder Woman had to go and suck.

#DC Comics #Opinion

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laufire · 4 years

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Supernatural s5

I finished it a little while ago, but I haven’t had the time to make an involved post about it -or watch that much of s6 yet; I’m trying to be Resposible and the time I have has been spent in advancing fics a little bit or answering short asks lol.

-I have really enjoyed this season for the most part, but there’s something I need to get of my chest LOL: all through it, the song “Too Many Dicks (On The Dance Floor)” played in my head xDD. Like, listen, I knew what I was signing up for with this show!! I didn’t expect NOT to find it offensive or regressive on multiple occasions!! But I guess s3-4 must have spoiled me lmao. I’m not saying those seasons are the height of feminism, but if you removed its most important female characters, ESPECIALLY Ruby, the plot of the season would fall apart. That’s not something you can say for s5 and preventing the Apocalypse, just sayin’.

It wouldn’t’ve been that hard to expand Meg’s, Anna’s or the Harvelle’s part (they had good material to go there -Meg as the faithful possibly opening her eyes, Anna as the betrayed and the juror jury and executioner, the Harvelles as normal hunters fighting something way too big for them-, but barely any time and like I said, no incidence in the actual plot of the season). Hell, I’m biased but bringing back Ruby would’ve at least taken care of the problem lol. Or if the show had indulged me and kept Bellamy Young as Lucifer, at least. But everyone with a real say in the plot is a dude, or at least wearing one as a vessel (angel’s conception of gender is clearly different from humans, but in terms of ~~representation the results are the same lbr).

-My constant frustrations with Supernatural’s bigotry-related stuff lol, like I said, I really enjoyed the season (that combination is one of the most frustrating things about the show lmao). Especially Castiel’s plot. The guy has reached Potential Hall of Faves status and that’s hum. A Problem xD

But seriously, he was breaking my heart in all the best ways. His search for God (the Absent Father that the show specifically compared to John añsldkfjasf. This show ISTG!!), his disappointment and sense of betrayal at being let down (he called God Himself “son of a bitch”!!!). I was especially fascinated by his Endverse version -that AU will have its own section lol-, although it resulted in making me reaaaally nervous whenever he was close to an addictive substance :). Like yes, those scenes were lowkey humourous and adorable (like when he drinks shots with the Harvelles and Ellen is fascinated and Jo delighted -... lowkey shipping this too btw. Lowkey shipping Castiel with lots of people-, or his combo with Sam when he got drunk), but also, you know, WORRYING xD

Some of my favourite scenes of his were, predictably, his interactions with Meg or Lucifer in 5x10. The Megstiel scene was SUPER HOT (both their voices are very unf-y lol), I can’t wait to edit it. And having Lucifer call Castiel “a peculiar thing” sure was something xD (although lbr, this Lucifer isn’t keeping with his rebel angel reputation, Castiel is carrying that all by himself smh).

Another scene I couldn’t get out of my head if I wanted to is when he uhhhh... completely LOSES IT and starts beating the crap out of Dean when he was ready to give it up to Michael. “I gave everything for you, and this is what you give me?!?” ooooooof. It was hard to watch, and fascinating and intense. I shamelessly loved it lmfao.

Though my favourite moment of his is one that can only be appreciated when you know certain things about s6. It’s the scene where, unlike everyone else, he shows appreciation for Sam’s plan of sacrificing himself to get rid of Lucifer. Because yes, at this point it’s the only thing that can save the world. But Castiel isn’t saying, “Sam’s life is a small price to pay in comparison”, because he will go into s6 and snatch Sam out of the cage immediately. s5 established Sam got out, so with that in mind, he didn’t bring it up because he didn’t want to create false hope in case he failed, but he backed the plan with the intention of saving Sam anyway. I love that. I love him.

-The entire season was Missing Ruby Hours for me lmfao. Like I said, some of the problems in the season wrt female characters would’ve been at the very least lessened if she’d gotten to be here wrecking havoc. But generally I just miss her and What Could Have Been with her here. I enjoyed some of the crumbs (Sam using the witchcraft skillz he learned from her! Sam immediately knowing Meg isn’t Ruby, unlike Dean! Her knife! The ARCHANGEL GABRIEL referencing her as “the demon Sam chose over his brother”!! The callbacks with Crowley or Brady!!), but I would’ve wanted her here, dammit xD.

-Aaaaand we’re finally getting to Sam, who is without a doubt the star of the season, if you ask me. His plan at the end, to let Lucifer possess him in the hopes he can fight back for just long enough to overpower him and throw them both into the cage, with no hopes for himself? This is the kind of Big Damn Hero stunt I’m a sucker for, I won’t lie. And I love that the show felt the need to confirm he was still alive at the end of the season hehe.

He really Went Through It this season and he held on lmfao. On top of everything (the apocalypse, the guilt of being its final trigger, the addiction recovery, etc.), he also had to deal with Dean’s usual bullshit, which is no small feat xDD. Like, sure, from an audience stand-point all those things are interesting (some fave/the fuck moments are when Dean is obviously peeved that Bobby still supports Sam because he wanted Bobby in HIS corner, or when he has the nerve to say he wants to say yes to Michael because he doesn’t trust SAM not to say yes to Lucifer lmfaoooo), BUT IT’S STILL A FEAT XD

One note: for all the talk about bi!Dean, bi!Sam is so SEEN this season xDD. AFAIC he totally hooked up with that bartender Paul (RIP Paul. At least in your last moments you enjoyed Sam, who’s clearly an energetic, attentive lover 😔). And Crowley refers to Brady as Sam’s demon ex-boyfriend and nobody bats and eye lmfao (that story is so angsty... the parallels to Ruby, how he ingratiated himself with Sam by pretending to have fallen off the wagon... ouch).

-I have mixed feelings on Crowley. On his own, I fell absolutely in love with the guy on his first appearance. A demon that DOUBTS Lucifer and doesn’t kiss his ass?? That wants to get rid of him and do his own thing?? And clearly enjoys ~earthly pleasures to the fullest (his complains about how the other demons ate his tailor had me rolling laksjdfa)? The way he turned the tables on Brady? OFC I love him. OTOH boy, does it annoy me knowing that fandom GLADLY embraced him when they condemned characters like Bela or Ruby for similar things. It’s not his fault so I still like him (he’s like Gabriel in that sense), but it’s annoying!

It also annoys me how Dean Must Be Right All The Time syndrome interacts with him lol. This season Dean decides they can trust Crowley (despite Crowley killing two humans in front of him and getting him beat up by Brady lol), so they can. Next season he decides they can’t, so Castiel will be WrongTM because Dean Says So. Ugggggh xD

-To be fair, however, this season has my fave Dean so far LOL. In the love/hate scale, this one has been almost solely in camp love, barring some of those moments of irksome hypocrisy that he’s so prone to xD.

But there was something about how this season’s plot chipped away at him, you know? For all the traits he has that drive me up the wall or unsettle me, I appreciate a lot of his personality because it makes him a unique and interesting character driving the narrative -his irreverence, his ability to think on the fly and get out of shitty situations, his disbelief. Seeing all of those things under siege this season made me hurt for him in a way I hadn’t anticipated LOL. By the time he was ready to give in to Michael (and I love that what made him step away from that choice was Sam showing a trust in him he patently didn’t deserve lbr), sometimes I felt terribly for the guy.

I also wonder if this season kind of marked like... the beginning of the end for him, narrative-wise? Making him Michael’s vessel (his angel condom) is the kind of thing that turns him from subject into object, and that can doom characters ime. The fact that he ~resigns himself to Sam’s death when his identity as a character came with being His Brother’s Keeper is another slight.

-I continue having mixed feelings about Destiel too LMAO. I’ve decided I’m just going to try to enjoy the good and interesting parts while I can, while trying not to think of future developments that’ll likely sour the ship for me lol.

Because in truth, yeah, I enjoy their interactions a lot here! The Endverse was particularly enjoyable for me (back to that in a moment), but the entire season had a lot of gems. That moment in the finale, when Dean is wounded on his knees after Sam sacrifices himself, and Castiel resurrects and heals him with a touch? And Dean is staring in awe and asks him if he’s become God?? Like wtf am I supposed to do with that. WHO SAYS THAT. XDD

-The Endverse. Omgggggggg. The Endverse. I doubt I can say anything about it that hasn’t been said a thousand times, but seriously. I loooove it, all of it. My favourite was endverse!Castiel, ofc. The way he was in No Man’s Land, not an angel and not quite a human, his ways of trying to cope with that, how burned he was... I uncomfortably related to some of it too lmfao, but let’s not get into that xD.

Seeing both Deans interact was gr10 too. They really couldn’t stand each other lmfao (do you understand me now Dean?? They actually reminded me of two OCs in an original WIP of mine that are in a similar situation -in this case it’s the future version purposefully traveling to the past though-, which made me even fonder of the AU). And the Destiel? *chef’s kiss*. The bitterness, like when Castiel laughs when present!Dean berates endverse!Dean about the tortures and then purposefully says “I like past you” to hurt him asñldkfjasf. Or those looks when Dean returns to the past and tells Castiel to “never change” d’aw.

I loved Lucifer!Sam in this episode too (and personally, I think in the finale Lucifer -and Michael- should’ve changed his outfit too. Sam’s clothes just don’t get to The Devil’s levels, but that white suit was perfect). He was terrifying xD.

BTW: I’ve decided that, since we never see endverse!Castiel die, well. He didn’t xD. I could see Lucifer keeping him alive and captive out of a sense of nostalgia, as Castiel is the only other thing close to a fellow angel left. Might even decide to return his powers with time, or to ~entice him with such an offer lol. And ofc I headcanon Sam is still inside, occasionally trying to fight. Cue in all the Castiel/Lucifer and Castiel/Sam fic ideas too (I have waaaaay too many of those for this mini-verse. It’s very inspiring).

-I’m still on the fence at Lucifer’s motivations but I can’t question how the family issues fit so, so well into this ‘verse. “Family is hell” is the show’s thesis, after all xD. IMO the angels in general don’t feel like a family, they’re a military body/cult lol, but the Archangels are another matter. I guess is the whole “only four angels have seen God-slash-Dad” thing, the rest were... well, the help, apparently.

But Lucifer, Michael, and Gabriel do feel like brothers when they interact (I’m guessing here Gabriel is the Adam: discarded by the other two like nothing :)))). Raphael too, but since he doesn’t interact with them... does he get to later? Or is he the odd one out? Did the others avoid him because he kept quoting Nietzsche at dinner?? LOL.

-There are no words to explain how terribly I feel for Adam. JFC that poor KID. Who was kind and helpful and intuitive, and only wanted his mother back and to help stop the end of the world. And that Sam and Dean will leave rotting in Hell for a millennia :))). It’s kiiiiiiiiind of hard to do for your show’s “heroes” when they do shit like that lmfao. It’d be different if they never tried to make him feel he’s family, but Sam tried to convince him with the bs “because we’re blood” and they did a half-baked attempt at saving him from Zacharias, and then... yeah. At least he had Michael in the cage, but still.

-I was already spoiled of this, but the reveal that cupids made John and Mary fall in love is so chilling (good on Dean for punching that cupid asshole, btw). It puts what Mary says about John in flashbacks, about how much she loves him and how perfect he is, in such a terrifying light. And I’m under the impression that the show didn’t bother to deal with this properly when they resurrected Mary and just... I hate that tbh. It’s a narrative choice that should have a huuuge impact, dammit.

-I kind of loved how bitter and angry Bobby was about (temporarily, thanks to Crowley, his new demon bf -watch out Rufus) ending up in a wheelchair. That there were no platitudes or false sentimentality and it just... was.

-The Harvelles’ had a good send off. I can respect Kripke for wanting his faves to go on his terms lol. Having Jo refuse Dean’s offer of a fuck on their possible last night on Earth with “I rather spent it with a little thing I have self-respect”? Not because she doesn’t have feelings for him, but because she thinks she deserves better from him? I love it. This guy knows his pettiness xD

-The fact that this fandom seems to have ignored Gabriel x Kali is one of the reasons I’m never going to vibe with it, sns. Immortal exes? Check. She tricked him and killed him... but then it turns out HE tricked and he’s alive? Check. BUT THEN HE STILL GOES BACK AND SAVES HER, DYING BY HIS BROTHER’S HAND?? CHECK CHECK CHECK. Ugh, why can’t they come back to me. I know, I know, Kali is a WoC and those are only allowed one (1) appearance before they’re killed off, apparently. So it might be a good thing that she doesn’t return xD. But gosh, they were gr10.

-Death the Horseman’s intro cleared my skin. I love him. I love how utterly terrifying he is and how chilling his and Dean’s scene was. And I yearn to find a picture of the guy a little younger and with a goatee, because he’s the most perfect Discworld’s Vetinari fancast I’ve ever found xDD

-I’ve seen tons of commentary over the years, and especially lately for obvious reasons, about how this season finale would’ve been a much better ending for the show. I’m not there yet, and it does sound like the finale was a mess and this one’s was a very well constructed episode (and, ofc, the Final Love Interest was NOT blurry!!). But even if by the end I come to loathe the finale, there’s one reason I already know won’t let me agree on the s5 ending being perfect: God xDD

The episode makes Chuck come across as a ~benevolent figure and no, fuck that, do NOT want, take it away from me!! Give me God as the Big Bad Wolf, the last evil to conquer any day. It’s like Dumbledore all over again: I enjoy the character a lot more if I feel canon and I are on the same page wrt his shadiness xDD

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itsclydebitches · 4 years

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Whats your favorite power system in all of fiction? The simplicity of dbz's? Something more complex like nen? Something not from anime at all?

I generally steer towards hard magic/power systems: something with defined rules that allow for both limitations and VERY awesome victories if you can figure out how to twist the rules in your favor. That’s one of the reasons why I enjoyed Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality. That (parody-esque, highly analytical world of HP) takes those rules to their logical endpoints. If transfiguration has the hard, established rule of “No transfiguration will last forever” then you get to see how different characters grapple with that rule. Some will see it as a limitation - “Dammit. That means we can’t use transfiguration to solve world hunger” - and others an opportunity - “What if I turned something deadly into an apple, had an enemy eat it, and then waited until the transfiguration wore off?” You also open up the possibility that a Super Special Protagonist will someday break that rule in a moment of pure awesomeness. One of my favorite moments in that series is when Harry rattles off all the ways he can turn a normal classroom deadly and though it’s horrifying (it’s supposed to be), he’s also right. Characters who exist in worlds with established rules and who bother to learn those rules are poised to exploit them in wonderfully satisfying ways.

This is partly why RWBY’s system doesn’t appeal to me. It’s largely dependent on what the writers want at any given moment, making the world feel continually shaky rather than a real, immersive thing that the audience can delve into. Weiss no longer uses her time ability... even though, as far as we know, she could. Ruby can suddenly slam through steel walls... even though we don’t understand how. Marrow doesn’t even attempt to use ‘Stay’ at the start of the fight... even though he, again, could. It’s those “How?” and “But they could have?” that interrupts the immersion. I think RWBY’s system is best described by Geico’s latest commercial:

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“Why don’t we just get into the running car??” and then they don’t because it’s much harder for the plot if they do, not because there’s a compelling, in-world reason for them to avoid it. Only RWBY’s system has the added complications of no one fully understanding how cars work (aura), or whether a character still has access to a car (abilities), if they possess enough gas to drive it (dust), and so on and so forth until you get an audience arguing over the supposed benefits/downsides of taking the car at all, if it exists, if it runs, if, if, ifs that no one is able to answer, rather than acknowledging that we should understand precisely how a car works and the show should have explained why the characters wouldn’t use it when it’s seemingly 100% available to them.

It’s also why Witcher’s system works much better for me. There’s definitely wishy-washy elements to it, but on the whole it’s far more rule-grounded than RWBY’s is. Things like “Witchers can cast signs, but signs pale in comparison to the power a sorceress has” explain potential question such as, “Why do these characters call on dangerous magic users they don’t trust when they themselves can already do magic?” We’ve been told what the difference between these types of magic is and we understand one’s limitations. Witcher also takes the time to think through an OP character’s place in a rule-driven world: basically, give them rules as well. O’dimm is defeated not because Geralt randomly develops the ability to slay god-like creatures, or because O’dimm is made stupid and very conveniently just doesn’t use his own ability, he’s defeated because he too has rules attached to him. He will follow the rules that he creates. That allows him to remain staggeringly dangerous - he’ll always try to tip those rules in his favor - but rules, by default, are always capable of being bent in favor of the hero as well. So when O’dimm says, “If you can solve my riddle AND make it through my world AND find the object that serves as the answer... then yeah, I’ll leave.” So Geralt does. He follows the rules established, using his brain as well as his physical skills, and successfully tells O’dimm to get lost. Salem, in contrast, has no established rules and thus we get the endless conversations of, “WHY doesn’t she just destroy Atlas herself? WHY did she wait until the story started to actively seek out the relics? What’s stopping her?” If the story says “Nothing” yet Salem isn’t winning, that’s a problem. Rules not only keep the audience grounded but also present opportunities for great characterization: O’dimm is more compelling because he treats everything like a game that he’s capable of losing. A Salem with vulnerabilities or psychological limitations would, in turn, be more compelling too.

So, to go back to your anime examples, anon, I don’t have one single story to point to, though I do prefer the more complicated systems. Just because they present far more opportunity for creativity while likewise allowing the audience to feel confident in their understanding of the world and the possibilities for how things might turn out (making a believable twist on the author’s part unbelievably EPIC). Even DBZ follows broad rules like “Saiyans get stronger when they lose” and “Intense emotion is capable of providing a powerup.” Indeed, we even see some villains making use of this rule: I want a stronger opponent, you need motivation, so I’ll kill someone you love to give you that boost. It’s simple, but it (mostly) hangs together.

In contrast, power/magic systems that refuse to establish rules so that the authors are never forced to come up with creative solutions, or that keep/chuck rules based on what’s convenient, just end up being frustrating. To my mind that sort of ambiguity works best in horror: How the fuck does Night Vale work? Good question. Don’t right know. It’s that sense of “This world makes no sense” that adds to our discomfort, discomfort the genre actively wants to create. However, making your fantasy/action series nonsensical when you want viewers invested in the fights is a mistake. Your audience can’t get behind either the potential outcome or what the author eventually decides to write if there isn’t a common foundation to work from. You’re less likely to enjoy, say, a card game if you’re playing blind, or your opponent changes rules whenever they please. I need to understand what’s possible and be able to trust that we’re both using the same rulebook in order to get invested.

#rwby #mymetas #Anonymous

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whindsor · 4 years

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gbbo au, part 1

i’ve been thinking about this for a whole year and now the au idea got even better so you know what, i’m just gonna do it, cause i miss mika and bucky A Whole Lot. this is completely self indulgent and unedited and just for fun. So here we go!

note: i’m not gonna add like, the real contestants on this season. cause like, they’re real people. and that’s a lil weird.

another note: i have no idea how the competition is run, how the baking bubble works, or really what’s going on. i’m winging it and having a great time.

week one: cake week

This was, no doubt, the longest two weeks of her life.

Mika wasn’t sure how she, an expat from a little town in Romania, had gotten chosen for The Great British Bake Off. Or Bake Off, as everyone called it. Apparently, being in the UK implied the Great British part.

Thanks to the stupid plague running rampant around the world, the contestants were invited to actually live at the Bake Off this year - at least, until they were removed from the competition. She hadn’t actually got to meet any of the contestants yet, since they were stuck quarantining in their little flats. They’d tested her when she’d first gotten there of course - negative, thank God - and every couple days since. She’d seen a few people leave under the cover of night, a car taking them away from the Baking Bubble. She wondered how many people were in the building, and if one day they would come in and tell her that sorry, you’re still negative for coronavirus, but you actually placed thirteenth in the ranking so you need to leave now.

But then, she got an email. A wonderful, glorious email.

Congratulations, Mika! You are a final contestant on The Great British Bake Off!

She wasn’t quite sure what it said after that - something about logistics and contacts and services and what not - all she knew was that she had to get to work. Now.

The next few days were a flurry of flour and frantic phone calls and internet searches, and as slow as the quarantine period had been, those few days flew by fast. She began to see inklings of other people then; one man got up and went for a run about the time she was sipping on her first cup of coffee. The woman next door practiced yoga on the balcony. At one point, a distinct burning smell emanated from the floors below her. They were all here, and all ready to bake.

She chose her outfit carefully. She needed to feel confident, but also comfortable. So she slid on jeans and boots, and eventually decided on a printed top her sister had given her, hoping it would remind her to just have fun. After all, Nicoletta was the one who signed her up for this in the first place, and was also the inspiration for her first Signature Challenge.

Interviews were first. It was chilly outside, and just a little breezy, so she slid on a leather jacket. Her mother would hate that she wore it, but it was her favorite, and made her feel much cooler and more hard core than she actually was. Down the lawn, Morning Jogger was also in his interview. He looked rather calm and collected, with his flannel and man bun and hand tucked into his pocket. Lucky duck. She turned her attention back in front of her. The interviewer asked a few introductory questions to get her acclimated to the camera in her face; it helped if she just talked to him, rather than to the lens. He assured her that was just fine.

“So, how are you feeling about starting the Bake Off?” he asked, finally getting into the nitty-gritty.

“Terrified.” she said immediately, giggling nervously after that. God, she hoped she came across as endearing rather than annoying. That road was a dangerous one to go down, so she took a sharp left. “But I’m so excited to finally get in there and see if I’m any good, or if my friends and family have been lying this whole time.”

That would be the nugget they used for her introduction. As expected, her mother wouldn’t care for it. But her sister thought she was cute and that her hair looked extra glossy, which was always a plus.

She finally got to go into the tent, glad she’d chosen to wear sturdy shoes instead of heels because her legs felt like they were made of jelly. And not even the good jelly like she made - the jelly her friend Elena made, which usually ended up being more of a soak for toast. Morning Jogger was also there, stationed at the back right bench, tapping the fingers of his right hand against the butcher block surface.

His left arm, however, was suspiciously missing.

Mika caught herself staring, her eyes flicking up to his before dropping with her chagrin. Get a grip, girl. It’s not like he was the first amputee she’d ever seen! Just the first on the Bake Off. She kept her eyes down as she went to her bench, which of course was right next to his. Dammit.

“Back of the class kids, huh?” he said. When she gave him a hesitant smile, he added, “It’s okay, I know it’s a shock.” His voice was quiet, but somehow still confident. She instantly knew that he was way tougher than she would ever be.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare.” she said, looking at him again and owning up to her mistake. He shrugged.

“It happens.” he said. He didn’t sound sad, or angry. It was just matter-of-fact.

“I’m Mika,” she said, changing the topic. “What’s your name?”

“Technically, James Barnes.” he said, then added, “But my friends call me Bucky.”

“Are we friends, James Bucky Barnes?” she asked with a perked eyebrow, amazed that she was able to flirt with someone at a time like this. Arm or no arm, he was very handsome. He smirked, apparently happy with her response.

“Perhaps not yet.” he said. “I guess we’re enemies for now.”

“Then are you ready to battle?” she said, trying to be extra dramatic in an effort to make his smile bigger. It worked.

“I think I’m ready, but I feel like I’m forgetting something.” he said, glancing down at the place where he used to have another hand. She snorted in laughter once before covering her mouth with her hand.

“I feel like I’m not supposed to laugh at that.” she said, her voice muffled.

“Please laugh, otherwise I’ll be too embarrassed to bake.” he said, his expression making her give in to the humor. Nerves also helped that, but she would never admit it. He gave her a conspiratory smile that she returned; now she understood how the contestants all seemed like allies.

The other contestants trickled in, and Mika felt a weird sense of protectiveness every time people spotted his arm, or lack thereof. He took it all in stride; she wondered how many times a day he got looks like that. Of course, she didn’t have time to ask, because before she knew it, the judges and hosts stood in a line at the front of the tent, welcoming them all to the competition. She hadn’t realized that there would be a new host this year, and she was grateful that the hosts managed to break some of the tension in the room. Then, it was time for their first challenge.

Battenberg cakes.

Mika was not ashamed to admit that she had to Google what a Battenberg cake was. At first glance, it didn’t seem that difficult, but then she remembered that she was baking for two of the most respected chefs in the UK, and that she had literally no margin for error. That made it a little more difficult.

They told her to bake, so she baked. She started whipping her butter and sugars, then added her eggs and flour and flavorings. She could see the judges and hosts making their way down the line, talking to the contestants and asking about their bakes. She tried to stay calm and collected, like Bucky next to her. His easy tone when talking to them helped to soothe her, especially when they brought up his obvious disability. There was no way their conversations would be the same, so she didn’t have to worry about comparisons.

“Hello there, Mika.” the female judge said with a grin. Mika gave the best smile she could manage, reminding herself to stay calm and somewhat focused.

“Alo, how are you?” she said. Her accent was extra thick with her nerves. Dammit.

“What have you got for us today?” the male judge asked after exchanging pleasantries. She took a deep breath, willing herself not to stumble over her words. She glanced over to Bucky, who gave her an encouraging smile.

“Well, my sister has been my biggest champion, so this is for her.” she explained, dumping ground up freeze dried strawberries into half of her batter. “She loves strawberries and cream, so that’s what I’m making today.”

“Simple.” the male judge said, a little bit of surprise in his voice. Her stomach dropped to approximately her knees. It must have shown on her face, because the female judge patted her hand in a comforting manner.

“As long as it’s done perfectly, it doesn’t matter how simple it is.” she said, winking behind her thick, bright blue glasses. Mika managed a hesitant smile.

“Right. Just perfection.” she said nervously, making them laugh. They bid her good luck and moved on to the next bench, the taller of the two hosts putting an arm around her shoulders and leaving an encouraging word before moving on. Okay, so all she had to achieve was perfection. That was fine. She shut out all the other distractions, barely hearing the time calls as they came. She focused on getting her cake in the oven, getting her marzipan nice and pink marbled, and making her filling. The cakes looked good when she pulled them out of the oven, and thank God they were done. Everything seemed to be going to according to plan.

“Twenty minutes left!” one of the hosts called. Shit!

She quickly pulled her cakes from the tin; they were still warm, but they would have to do. She pulled her secret weapon - dental floss - out, and tried not to sweat as she cut the squares. She put them on the marzipan, put in her filling, and started the careful process of rolling it. When she managed to get the marzipan just right, she finally let out a sigh of relief. She glanced over at Bucky, curious as to how he was getting on. His movements were carefully coordinated and meticulous, and she noticed he used every square millimeter of his hand (and a little bit of his torso, which had a distinct line of flour and food coloring) to get things to move the way he wanted. Impressive. She turned back to her own work, whipping and piping some cream and artfully fanning out strawberries. With a minute to spare, she finished.

Now for the judging.

It was so stressful to watch the judges go from table to table, sampling the cakes and giving critique. Most of the contestants got glowing reviews, and only a couple had negative feedback. She held her breath when they got to her buddy in the back of the room, amazed that he could look so calm.

“Rosemary and lemon,” the male judge announced, nodding towards the cake. It was covered in a simple yellow marzipan, a few rosemary sprigs tied with a gold ribbon and placed on top.

“An unusual flavor combination for a cake.” the female judge added, watching as the first judge cut a large square from the cake. The colors were a distinct white and yellow checkerboard, which was one of the requirements. Bucky shrugged.

“I wanted to try something different.” he said.

“Bit simplistic on the decoration.” the female judge said, pushing the rosemary sprigs. Mika had thought it looked elegant, but she supposed that’s why she wasn’t one of the judges.

“Decoration isn’t my strong suit.” he said, his grin widening at the vague look of discomfort they gave him. “I’m not particularly artistic. All left brain, I’m afraid.” That seemed to assuage their fears a bit, and they turned to the plates in front of them while Mika tried not to giggle at his jokes. They took a bite from the cake, both of their eyebrows raising as the flavors hit them.

“Wow. That is...surprising.” the female judge said. The male judge nodded. “The texture is just a touch tough, but for me the flavor makes it worth it.”

“Rosemary is very floral and usually does well with more savory applications, but it works really well with the lemon here. Well done.” the male judge added. They bid farewells, and Mika was so distracted by Bucky actually displaying an emotion (relief) that she forgot for a moment that they were coming for her.

“Alright, Mika, your turn.” the female judge said. She had a very kind smile, despite her position.

“Remind us what we have here.” the male judge said. His gaze was very intense, and much more intimidating that when they spoke earlier. She cleared her throat, holding her hands together so they couldn’t see them shaking.

“Strawberries and cream, for my sister.” she said, keeping her answer short in case her English failed her. The female judge gestured to the bushels of strawberries and whipped cream all over the cake.

“This is a bit much.” she said. “I would have done the marbled marzipan or the strawberries, but to have both is a little...over the top.”

Mika’s stomach turned to stone. Now that she looked at it, it did seem a bit garish. She forced a smile and nodded. “Okay, yes, I see that now.”

“I like it. I enjoy extra snacks with my cake.” the host said, reaching out and pulling one of the strawberries off, making sure to take a large dollop of whipped cream with it before popping the whole thing - green and all - into his mouth. She was grateful for the humor, and for the bit of validation.

“Right. Let’s get to the cake then.” the male judge said, cutting a slice. Thank goodness the pink and white squares were perfect and distinct. First box ticked. She held her breath as they ate it, her vision starting to swim slightly when they finally looked at her.

“That is beautifully soft.” the female judge said, adding, “and the flavors aren’t overdone at all.”

“It’s very difficult to add freeze dried strawberries to a recipe and avoid a granulated texture in it.” the male judge said. “But you’ve managed to pull it off. I like this a lot.”

“I think I’ll have another bit before we go.” the female judge said, taking another forkful. Mika visibly sank in relief, her smile genuine this time.

“Thank you, thank you so much.” she said, slouching as soon as their backs turned. She glanced over at Bucky, who gave her a thumbs up. The gesture made her cheeks warm, and she returned the gesture before settling back on to the stool. Once everyone was judged, they were instructed to take a two hour break. Mika couldn’t help but hop over to the bench next to hers, a slice of cake on a plate.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” she said with a grin, making Bucky choke on a laugh. He cut her a slice as well, handing it over.

“I actually don’t really care for sweets. But I do want to hear what you think of this.” he said with a self deprecating smile. Her eyebrows shot up.

“Don’t care for sweets? How did you make it then?” she asked, taking a large bite of his cake. Dammit, it was really good.

“I have a few reliable critics. What do you think of the cake?”

“It’s terrible. You should drop out.” she said, mouth full of another bite. “I’m definitely not terrified of you.”

He laughed again, and Mika thought that he had a very nice smile. She would have commented on it, but figured that would probably be weird after meeting just a couple hours before. So she just let herself be ushered out of the tent and into an open area, with lunch plates all waiting for them.

All of them were carefully spaced around an empty fire pit. Some of the other contestants had grouped up a little, but Bucky was sitting on his own, his plate carefully positioned on his lap and a book perched precariously on his knee. Mika chose the seat next to him, giving him a warm smile when he looked up before turning to her own lunch. She was sure the other contestants were nice, but she was drained after the morning, and the thought of having to smile and socialize was not particularly enticing. She pulled out her phone, scrolling through recent news and reading the articles that interested her. Bucky continued with his book, though she realized it had been a long moment since he’d turned a page. She glanced over to catch him looking at her, his eyes dropping quickly once she caught him. She couldn’t help but grin...and also make sure that there was nothing on her face.

All too soon, they returned to the tent for the technical challenge. This was what Mika was most excited about; she could follow vague directions (one of the few helpful skills her mother developed), and had decently good instincts. Usually. The judges and hosts lined up, and when she looked over at Bucky before they spoke, she made sure to throw another smile his way. He grinned back, which was a better confidence boost than the well wishes from the judges and hosts.

Pineapple upside down cake? She’d seen it once, on an episode long ago. She remember thinking it sounded delicious - and then promptly forgot everything about it. She could figure it out, right?...Right? She glanced to Bucky out of the corner of her eye, and the man was still grinning like the Cheshire Cat. Dammit, that was the look of someone who’d made this before.

Whatever. She was smart! She had a degree! And she watched a lot of television! She could do this!

She started on the sponge, the easy part. It was the caramel she was worried about. The cameras stopped on her, the interviewer asking, “Are you familiar with this technical challenge?”

“I’ve heard of it, yes.” she said, giving them a nervous grin. It was still awkward to talk to the camera, so she instead focused on the man asking the question. “Have I made it? No. Have I eaten it? Also no. But it sounds good.”

They gave her sympathetic smiles, moving on to talk to Bucky. She let out a breath of relief, knowing that now she could focus on the caramel. All she had to do was watch it. And pull it off at the right moment. And not let it crystalize.

Which is exactly what it did.

“Fuck a duck.” she muttered in Romanian, glad that she both hid in her native language and that the cameras were far away.

“Watch your tongue.” Bucky said, also in perfect Romanian. She nearly dropped the pan of crystalized caramel, looking at him in shock. The cameramen noticed the movement, and carefully slid back to them.

“You speak Romanian?” she asked, shock evident in her face.

“Yes, I do.” he replied, and just hearing the language helped calm her in a weird way. The piece of home was exactly what she needed. He nodded toward her bench. “Fix your caramel.”

“Dammit!” Mika said, back in English now. She weighed out the sugar and water, putting it back on the stove. The cameras were still there, and the interviewer asked,

“What was that about?”

“He speaks Romanian! It’s very exciting.” she said, this time giving them a genuine smile. They quickly panned over to Bucky.

“How do you know Romanian?” they asked. He had a long knife in his hand, carefully resting the pineapple on the bench and managing to slowly, but expertly, cut it.

“I’ve done a lot of traveling. I actually speak eight languages.” he replied casually. “Well, conversationally at least.” he added. He flipped the knife, laying it aside a safe distance away from them. The camera man gulped, and decided not to ask any more questions. Mika, realizing she should probably get back to her bake and not worry about Bucky’s life story, quickly turned to find, thank God, her caramel looked good. Pale, maybe, but good. It would darken in the oven for sure.

She carefully placed the pineapple and the cherry in the bottom of the greased tins, using a spoon to add in the still hot caramel. She had a fair bit left over, but she didn’t want to risk drowning the cake. So, she followed her gut and ladled in the sponge mix, putting them in the oven before she could think too much about it. Bucky, of course, was already pulling his out. Damn him.

“Thirty minutes remain!” one of the hosts called, balancing a rolling pin on his head. She appreciated the humor, she really did, but she was very stressed right now and seeing a rolling pin in such a precarious position was not exactly helpful. She checked her oven; the cakes were probably halfway finished. There was no way they would be cool in time for her to put the cream...but she’d have to try.

The last few minutes the cakes were in the oven, she whipped up the cream. If she was honest, she nearly overwhipped it into butter, but caught it just in time. As soon as the timer went off she got the tray from the oven, nearly sliding the tins off the edge. She gasped, nearly choking on her heart in her throat as she caught it just in time, placing the tray on the counter before putting her hand over her heart.

“Slow down, Mika.” she said to herself, shaking her head for a second. Of course the cameras caught the moment - she could feel them pointed towards her - but she refused to look up at them. Her stress was through the roof, and if she was honest, she was trying very hard not to cry.

She started fanning the little tins, trying to get them to cool down enough to remove the cakes. “Fifteen minutes!” the host called, and she actually, verbally eeked and grabbed the closest cake. The cup was still ferociously hot, but she didn’t have time to think about burning off her fingerprints. Instead, she focused on getting the cakes out and onto the platter. The caramel didn’t darken like she hoped, but she didn’t have time to care. She was back to furiously fanning, trying to get it cool enough for the cream. She made the mistake of glancing over to Bucky - he was already putting little rosettes of cream on his, cool as a cucumber. Dammit!

“One minute left!” the host called. It was the moment of truth. She prayed her cream wouldn’t melt, swiftly piping it onto the little cakes. They smelled delicious for sure...would they be allowed to try one afterwards?

“Time’s up!” the call felt like a knife through her gut. They all had cream on them, but it was very hasty work, and definitely not her best. She let out a frustrated sigh, the little hairs that escaped her braid floating around her face. There was nothing she could do now, except wait to get judged. This time, the judges would not know who made which one...which could make their feedback all the more honest.

“Well, well,” the male judge said, clapping his hands together. His eyes ran over the plates in front of him, his face already giving away his feelings. The female judge’s eyebrows rose over her thick glasses, as if she were surprised. Whether it was a good or bad surprise remained to be seen. “Right. Let’s get started.”

Mika watched in abject horror as they ripped apart every plate in front of them. The good ones were good, and the bad ones - luckily hers didn’t quite fit in there - were, well, bad. Bucky, of course, got glowing reviews. When they stopped at Mika’s, she held her breath.

“Caramel is too light.” the female judge said, poking at it with her fork. The male judge cut it in half, and even from a few feet away Mika could see that the cake was held together only by her dreams.

“It’s baked. Barely.” he said shortly, chuckling to himself. They took a bite, mulling it over for a moment until he added, “Not bad. If the caramel was a little more done on the stove and the cakes in the oven a couple more minutes, it would have been pretty good.”

Not bad. She could work with “not bad”. Hopefully.

Out of the twelve bakers, she ended up placing seventh. Almost top half! Though she would have much preferred to place first (which was where Bucky placed), she really deserved to be much lower than her rank. At that point she seemed to be sitting in the middle of the pack, which was just as well with her. She just needed to get past the nerves of this first week. As long as she wasn’t the first one to go, she could do better. At least, she hoped so. Really, her goal was to make it to bread week. If she made it there, she would consider this adventure a success, and could go home happy.

The dismissal was such a relief that she forgot about the Showstopper challenge the following day. The bakers gathered their things, returning to the big house and heading for their apartments. Mika looked forward to a shower, some comfier pants, and one single stiff drink. She hanged back a little, waiting for Bucky to catch up to her.

“Do you know where they keep the key to the liquor cabinet?” she asked, making him raise his brows.

“No, but I can pick a lock pretty well. And if that doesn’t work, I do have some whiskey in my rooms.” he said. He stepped back slightly, holding his hand out in a placating gesture. “Not that I - I mean, we can meet at a neutral place to share a glass, if you would like.”

Mika, not expecting him to get flustered that easily, busted out laughing. “You can relax. A drink would be nice, then maybe I can sleep a little before tomorrow.”

“I’ve got just the thing for that.” he said with a grin. He nodded towards the fire pit, where a groundskeeper was building a fire. “There, after supper?”

“Sounds good.” she said. A friend! She had an ally! She smiled, going to her rooms and rinsing off the day, cooking up a good enough microwave meal to keep her from dying and making sure any last minute preparations she needed for tomorrow were finished. Once she felt she’d waited an appropriate amount of time, she pulled on a jacket and went back downstairs.

Bucky was already waiting at the fire pit, as were a couple other bakers. They were busy talking about the next day, and gave her a warm welcome when she arrived. Bucky looked up from his book, trying to hide his relief that she actually came to this little meet up. When she sat down in the chair next to him, he reached down and got a glass, handing it to her. He then retrieved his own glass and set it on the arm of the chair before getting the all important bottle of whiskey. She thought to offer to open it, but he wedged it between his legs and removed the cap with practiced ease. Clearly his injury was not new.

“Four years ago. War accident.” he said in Romanian, answering her unspoken question. Her eyebrows shot up and her cheeks warmed in a way that had nothing to do with the fire, but he didn’t seem to be bothered. He just reached out, filling the glass that she dumbly held out.

“I’m sorry.” she said, not knowing what else to say. He shrugged, filling his own glass before recapping the drink and setting the bottle down.

“It’s fine. I’ve adapted.” he said, taking a sip. She did as well, if only to have something to do with her hands. “I’ve also learned over the years to just address it, rather than wait for people to be brave enough to ask.”

“Do a lot of people get brave enough to ask?” she said, genuinely surprised. Thanks to his easy going demeanor, she was able to relax into the conversation as well.

“Nope. But I do play this fun game with myself where I count how many times they glance at my shoulder during a conversation.” he said. With that admission, she had a strong desire to glance down at said shoulder, but stifled it. Luckily, the way his blue eyes danced in the firelight was distracting enough.

“Who’s the highest scorer?”

“The guy at the local coffee place. Every time he looks up from the order it’s not at my face. It’s pretty impressive.” he said. “Kids are the best though. They notice and just screech about it.”

“Oh no!”

“Oh, yes. The parents are...” he paused, swishing his glass around and taking another sip for dramatic effect. “...so embarrassed.”

The whiskey, while not making her tipsy yet, certainly made her feel a little warmer inside, and she couldn’t help but giggle. “You’re terrible.”

“I’m short a limb, I have to have fun with it otherwise I’ll lose my mind.” he said, smiling even though his statement was completely true.

“Well clearly you’ve got a handle on it, so I think you’ll be okay.” she said, gesturing to the tent. A second later, she realized that he might think her choice of words intentional, and her own hand flew to cover her mouth. “I didn’t - that wasn’t -”

Thank goodness Bucky thought her reaction was funny. “Don’t worry about it. It happens so much more often than you would think.” he said. He settled back into the chair, and decided to change the topic before they got too in depth about his lack of an arm. “So what made you apply for this?”

“My sister. She actually sent the preliminary stuff in for me - without telling me.” she replied. After a few years living in the UK, it was nice to talk to someone besides her mother in her native language. “You?”

“Best friend. He did the same thing.” he said. Mika scoffed appreciatively.

“They’re made for each other, the meddling assholes.” she said, making him laugh again.

“You said it, not me.”

“I guess I shouldn’t assume your friend is an asshole.”

“Oh no, it’s completely fair to assume he’s an asshole.”

“Then what does that say about us?”

Bucky paused at her question, then shook his head. “Dammit. I guess we’re assholes too.”

His tone was so dry that Mika couldn’t help but bust out laughing. Of course, the whiskey also helped with that. She was a little over halfway through her glass - not enough to be tipsy, but still feeling it - and knew that she would have to stop after the one. Bucky was almost finished with his, but he held on to the last few drops, if only for an excuse to stay and talk with her.

“But we’re assholes who can bake.” Mika said, toasting him with her glass. He tapped his near-empty glass against hers, taking just the smallest sip so he still had some left.

“Allegedly. We may find out tomorrow that we can’t.”

“You’ve already beaten me in both challenges. How in the hell did you make such good pineapple upside down cake?” she asked, putting just the right amount of incredulity in her tone so he would think she was kidding.

“I dated a girl from the South once, in America. You’d be surprised the crazy things they can cook up.” he said. Mika leaned onto the arm of her chair, resting her chin on her hand.

“Oh, that sounds like a story.” she probed. He shook his head.

“Nah, we had a good run and then it ended amicably. We were just in different places in life.” he said. “But way to pry about my love life on the first day.”

“It’s a gift, what can I say.” she replied, though she could feel her chagrin creeping up the back of her neck.

“So how did your last relationship end?” he countered, noticing too late that he’d accidentally finished his drink. But that didn’t mean he had to leave. Mika let out a bark of a laugh, followed by taking a gulp of her drink.

“Terribly.” she admitted. His face dropped, and then it was his turn to be embarrassed.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t-”

“Don’t apologize, it’s all good now.” she said, just a touch too easily. “Cheating bastard is off in...Greece I think now, after being dumped by the other woman. And I’m participating in the biggest baking competition in the world, so I think I’m winning the break up.”

“That you are.” Bucky agreed. He eyed his own empty glass, as well as Mika’s. Were this any other time, he would offer another one. As if Mika read his mind, she gave her empty glass back to him.

“Speaking of which, we should probably sleep well before said competition, right?” she said. She didn’t want to go inside. She wanted to stay out here and chat with her back row buddy. But they did technically have a competition to worry about.

“It’s not a bad idea.” he agreed, taking the glass from her. He made sure the cap was tight on the bottle before pressing it and his book under his arm, holding the two glasses in one hand. Mika thought she should offer to help, but again he did everything with such ease that she figured he would not see the offer as help, but pity. And perhaps, at this point, it was.

“Not my worst by far.” she said, standing up with him. They bid goodnight to the other bakers still out there, then went back inside, splitting off to their separate rooms. Now that she was alone, all she could think about was the next day. She should have just stayed out there, she probably would have been better rested than the meager sleep she got that night.

The Showstopper challenge was the hardest thing she’d ever done. Art was not her strong suit, so creating a bust of her favorite celebrity hero was something of a nightmare. The preparation required many trials, many failures, and many crying FaceTime calls to her actual artist sister, asking for help.

But now she was in the tent, with no access to her cell phone and halfway through a challenge that might be her undoing. She’d claimed that she was making the likeness of Lady Gaga, and she’d chosen her both for the wonderful message she sang and for the good she was trying to do in the world. And also because the woman loved to dress differently and abstractly, which would maybe give her a bit of artistic license. Maybe. Hopefully.

The cake part was easy enough. It was her favorite chocolate mocha cake recipe, with mint buttercream frosting. It was something she’d made a hundred times before, and since it went smoothly, it lulled her into a false sense of security. But now it was the time to decorate, which was no doubt the very worst part of all of this. She didn’t know how anyone else in the tent was doing; at this point, she was doing her best not to break down and cry.

“How’s it going?” one of the hosts said, coming over and putting an arm around her shoulders.

“Well, it could be worse,” she said, her voice wavering and her accent thick. “But it also could be a lot better.”

“Mix the optimism with the reality, I dig it.” he said. “So far, it does look like...a human.”

“That’s a good start.” she agreed, laughing slightly.

“Which human is it supposed to be?” he asked lightly.

“Lady Gaga?”

“Ah yes, I totally see it.”

“No you don’t.”

“Well it doesn’t matter if I see it.”

“But if you can’t see it, how will the judges see it?”

“Stop being smarter than me and work on your cake.” he said. They stared at each other for a second before she gave in and giggled, shaking her head.

“I’ll do my best.”

“That’s the spirit.” he said, giving her a brotherly punch on the shoulder before wandering off. Okay, maybe she could do this.

“Half an hour left!”

There was no way she could do this.

But she was sure as hell gonna try.

She tried to remember everything her sister told her, and while she could definitely see the difference between what she was making and what it looked like in her mind’s eye, it was kind of, almost, slightly reminiscent of the pop star. When they called the time, she wasn’t completely happy with her cake, but she had to admit it went better than she thought it would. Of course, all that optimism went right out the window when she was called to bring her cake up to the judges. The silence as they took it all in threatened to smother her, and she took a deep breath to try and hold herself together.

“Well, I can see the Lady Gaga.” the female judge said, though she didn’t quite sound like she believed the statement.

“Or someone like it.” the male judge had to say, taking what little was left of Mika’s confidence and throwing it right out the window.

“She’s very eclectic, so I tried to emulate that.” she said, gesturing with her hands until she realized they were shaking, then clasping them in front of her so they wouldn’t notice. They laughed appreciatively, admitting that she wasn’t wrong. “I promise it tastes infinitely better than it looks.”

“Infinitely, eh?” the male judge said, piercing her with her eyes before piercing her cake with a knife. “And this is mint chocolate mocha, correct?”

“Yes.” she said, taking in another sharp breath before she passed out. It seemed to take them a thousand years to eat it, both of them raising their eyebrows in surprise.

“I expected it to taste like coffee and toothpaste, but it’s very pleasant.” the female judge said, taking another bite for good measure. The male judge nodded in agreement.

“It’s not something I would normally expect in a cake, but you’ve managed to pull it off spectacularly. The cake is tender, and the buttercream isn’t overly flavored. Very well done.”

“Thank you, thank you so much.” she said, honestly lightheaded after the whole thing. She collected her cake, going back to the back of the room. Only then did she look up at Bucky, who gave her an encouraging smile and nodded towards her cake. She sent back an exaggerated relieved face, though she still wasn’t sure if she would make it past the first week.

Bucky was next, and though she didn’t know the person he’d chosen, she had to admit that his artistry was much better than hers. She supposed she should feel bad that he had clearly beat her in that category, but after their moment of friendship the night before, she found herself rooting for him.

“This is impressive.” the male judge said, with an unspoken even despite your disability. She was glad they left that bit off.

“Thank you.” Bucky said softly. He still exuded his quiet confidence, but she could see his thumb picking at a thread on his shirt.

“And this is fondant?” the female judge asked.

“Marshmallow fondant. It’s a little more forgiving.” he said with a wry grin. They seemed to appreciate the joke, but not for long before cutting into the cake. It was a spice cake, he said. With cream cheese frosting. Since he didn’t care for sweets, Mika wasn’t surprised that he went for something like that. She also really wanted to try it whenever they got finished.

“Hm. I’m getting too much of...something.” the male judge said.

“Allspice.” the female judge agreed. Bucky’s shoulders dropped the tiniest bit, though his face hid any emotions.

“The texture though is spot on, and the icing goes very well with it. Decoration was great. Just watch your spices.” the male judge said. Bucky nodded, picking up his sculpture and bringing it to the back of the room.

“You’re fine.” she whispered, waving him off like of course he was. Then again, they liked his signature and he won the technical, so he really was fine. He gave her a twitch of a smile, settling back onto his stool to watch the rest of the judgements. They thought they might chill out when the judges went off to deliberate, but everyone just seemed more tense.

“Relax.” Bucky muttered, watching Mika pace up and down the back of the tent.

“Relax? How can I relax?” she asked. “My cake was decent, but I can’t decorate for shit and my technical was terrible!”

“You’re fine.” Bucky reiterated. “I’m not losing my back of the room buddy. I paid them off to pass you through.”

“Asshole.” she said, making him laugh. She paused. “Did you really?”

“I can’t afford that, I’m sorry.” he said, making her groan.

“I’m gone. I know it.” she said. She wanted to think that she was the middle of the pack, that she could make it, but she was also deathly afraid that she missed something.

“Well, let’s find out.” he surprised her, drawing her attention to where the producers were lining up their stools. Mika gulped audibly, following Bucky on numb legs and sitting down. She crossed her legs, pressing her hands in between them to hold them still. Next to her, Bucky positioned his leg so his knee was gently touching her thigh - a bit of comfort as they awaited judgement.

In the end, she was neither Star Baker, nor sent home. Relief immediately washed over her, her shoulders sagging as exhaustion from the past two days piled onto her. “Holy fuck.” she muttered, covering her face with her hands.

“And we’ve got to do it again next week.” Bucky said. She dropped her hands, looking him dead in the eye.

“What in the hell have we gotten ourselves into?”

#gbbo au #week one #cake week

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