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sansaorgana · 2 months

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I’ve never understood why we shoot off fireworks in the USA for the 4th, I just feel like it could trigger some of our veterans and it makes me feel awful! Could you write something like this with Buck?

hello! 💖 in my country we only shoot them on new year's eve but since I own two cats, I hate them 😡 one of my cats is so terrified each time that he literally has spasms 😥 the older he gets, the more worried I am each new year's eve tbh 😐 anyway, thank you for your request! 🎆 I was actually thinking of something like this with Buck!

I had to close my requests for now because I got so many 🙏🏻

It was the first Independence Day after the war and you were excited that you would celebrate it with your husband for the first time in two years. Especially now, after the victory, it felt more special than ever.

You decided to throw a barbecue for your befriended neighbours and you had been preparing the house and the garden for the whole week – putting up decorations with Buck’s help and cleaning everything. In the last two days you had also been busy with cooking meals and preparing salads while Buck had been supplying your fridge with everything needed for the barbecue – all sorts of meat, vegetables and sodas.

The only thing you hadn’t bought were the fireworks. You wanted to save some money, especially after hearing that different neighbours down the street were preparing a real show anyway. Surprisingly, Buck had agreed to that pretty quickly although you had expected him to try to convince you to get your own fireworks. Not because he had ever been a big fan of them but he never liked it when you were using the “saving money” argument. Whenever you would use it in different situations – like deciding whether to buy a dress or not – he would say “if it makes you happy, we can afford that”. And he knew very well that this barbecue party was making you happy.

However, you didn’t ask about it because it didn’t seem to be significant enough and you completely forgot about it anyway, too busy with all the preparations.

The barbecue started in the afternoon and the weather was beautiful on that day – clear, blue skies above you, giving you a perfect view of the fireworks here and there in the distance. You were handing the bottles of beer and coke to the guests while Buck was in charge of the barbecue when one of the neighbours asked a question that made you freeze.

“Damn, it’s like back there again, is it not?” He chuckled at Buck.

His name was Frank and he had been to Europe as well but not as a pilot. He was obviously referring to the fireworks in the background as he tried to turn it into a joke but his wife Helen hissed at him.

You suddenly realised that the sound of fireworks was not the same to everyone and you looked at your husband, worried. He might have seemed to be pretty alright after the horrors he had endured but you knew him better than everyone else and you knew. You knew about his nightmares and panic attacks. They were rare but they still were happening, sometimes triggered by the things you had never thought of before as threatening. Like with the fireworks.

“I don’t pay attention to them,” Buck gave Frank a kind smile. “My brain just shuts the sound off at this point,” he explained and he seemed to be genuine in his answer, which made you sigh in relief.

You went back to handing out the sodas and glanced at the watch on your hand. It was half an hour until the fireworks show promised by the neighbours living down the street.

When everyone had a bottle of their chosen beverage already, you joined your husband’s side to help him with the meat and vegetables. Rubbing his arm softly and laughing at the jokes being told by the others, you felt happy and satisfied with your life. Finally, after such a long time, it was back to normal, you thought. Well, nearly.

Everyone was sitting by the table in your garden and talking when you realised you had forgotten to bring mustard and ketchup.

“I’ll get it,” Buck smiled at you and stood up.

“Grab me a can of coke from the fridge, too, darling,” you told him and he nodded before disappearing inside the house.

A short moment later, the fireworks show started. Your neighbours living down the street had to spend a real fortune on it because the fireworks were many and very, very loud. You gasped and watched in awe as others stood up and cheered.

You, Helen and Frank were the only ones left sitting by the table. From the corner of your eye, you spotted that Frank’s face changed. He was no longer smiling and his skin lost some of its colour. Helen was squeezing his shaky hands and whispering something to him.

A very loud firework made you flinch while others screamed out of joy and Frank jumped on his seat. You stood up rapidly, realising that Buck hadn’t come back from the house yet.

“Helen, listen,” you leaned in to talk to her despite the noise. “You can go inside with Frank, it’s okay,” you assured her.

“Thank you,” she mouthed out with gratitude in her eyes before urging him to stand up and follow her inside.

You, however, weren’t waiting for them because you were rushing to the house yourself. You froze at the sight of your husband sitting by the kitchen table and hiding his face in his shaky hands. In fact, his whole body trembled and there was a broken bottle of mustard in the middle of the floor. He had to drop it when the fireworks show started.

Your heart broke at the sight. Your Buck was the strongest and the bravest man you knew. You would always go to him when you needed comfort or help because he was so capable of making everything – everything – better. He was good at fixing things in the physical sense but he was also always comforting you with his kindness and calm nature. He would never panic about anything and you had always admired him for that.

In moments like this, you felt helpless because you couldn’t take his pain away. And if you could, you would. He had already suffered so much that from now on, you’d rather suffer for him. But you were also angry – angry at the war for taking place and breaking him so much.

“Darling…” You started slowly and crouched down in front of him, carefully, trying not to startle him. He didn’t seem to acknowledge your presence, though. “Darling…” You repeated and put your hands on his trembling thighs.

He flinched and you shushed him while tears streamed down your cheeks.

“Shh, shh, baby, it’s me, it’s okay, you’re home,” you tried to soothe him. “You’re with me now, you’re safe,” you assured but it was not working.

You took a deep breath in and moved up now, to stand above him. You put your hands on Buck’s ears, trying to shield him away from the noise coming from the outside. And then, gently, you pulled his face closer to you and pressed it to your tummy. You leaned in to kiss the top of his head and whisper sweet nothings that were supposed to calm him down and after a while it seemed to be working. You could feel his muscles relaxing and eventually he stopped hiding his face in his hands and wrapped his arms around your waist instead, clinging to you like a little boy.

When the fireworks show stopped and it was quiet again, you moved your hands away from Buck’s ears and began to rub his back soothingly instead.

“It’s alright now, baby, you’re home with me. I won’t let anything bad happen to you,” you promised in a whisper, sniffing back your own tears.

Buck looked up at you with teary eyes and you cupped his face to wipe his tears off of his cheeks with your thumbs. You let your fingers trace his scars and your lower lip trembled. Not that you minded those scars – not at all – but they were yet another reminder of what horrors he had been through. And he was just a man – as weak and scared as everyone else; only forced to be brave.

You understood now why he was scared of having a son with you one day. He was scared of another war coming sooner or later and he was scared of his own child going through what he had gone through.

You feared that, too. And you didn’t even fully know what had happened in Europe. Only the men who had been there knew. Women – especially those who had stayed back home – they would never understand.

“Are you back with me now, my love?” You asked, gently. Buck nodded after a while of hesitation.

“Sorry ‘bout the mustard,” he mumbled out and you chuckled as you shook your head.

“It doesn’t matter, darling,” you assured him.

But you were grateful that Buck’s panic attacks were like that. Perhaps it was wrong to be grateful for such things but you had heard enough stories of triggered men who would do much worse things while having panic attacks.

“I’m sorry…” He breathed out as fresh tears pricked his eyes.

“Don’t,” you interrupted him as you crouched down again and held his hands now to squeeze them tight. “Don’t, Gale, please, don’t ever apologise for that,” you pleaded and he looked down.

“I didn’t expect them to be so loud and so… Close. I… I suddenly wasn’t in our kitchen anymore but back in the air, up in the fort and the Germans were shooting at us and I was trying to focus on flying but deep down I was just… I was just praying to get back home to you and all I could see was your face when they tell you I’m dead and…” He started and you pursed your lips to stop your own tears from falling.

“I know, baby, I know. But it’s over now, yes? You’re back home with me, safe and sound,” you reminded him and leaned in to place a kiss upon one of his hands.

You heard footsteps behind you. It was Helen peeking inside shyly. You turned around to shake your head at her and she gave you an understanding look before walking out without a word.

“Let’s clean up now, yes?” You let go of Buck’s hands and fixed your hair before standing up clumsily.

You occupied yourself with cleaning the mess from the broken mustard bottle and Buck washed his face with cold water in the kitchen sink. You handed him some of the paper towels you were using so he could dry his face.

“You’ve missed the fireworks show because of me,” he pointed out.

“God damn those fireworks shows, Buck!” You exclaimed. “God damn them. I don’t want to see any ever again. I’m sorry that I didn't think that it would… That it would scare you like that,” you apologised.

“Well, it takes time to come to terms with the fact that your husband is a coward now,” Buck sighed and so did you, while throwing the used paper towels into the trash bin aggressively.

“My husband is not a coward and has never been. However, that self-pity attitude is new to me,” you told him and he turned his head around to look at you. “My husband is the bravest man I know,” you added. “He is my hero. And I don’t allow you to talk about him this way, you hear me? I have defended him from all the women in town telling me that men in the captive camps were no real heroes and I will defend him from you, too, when you’re so mean to him, Buck, I mean it.”

“Stop, or I’ll cry again,” he shook his head and sniffled.

There was a hint of a smile on his face and it made you grin as well before you approached him and wrapped your arms around him to hug him tight.

“I love my wife, too. The most in the whole wide world,” he assured you and hugged you back while pressing his lips to the top of your head but you could still understand his words. “I wasn’t brave, really, I wasn’t. I just did everything it took to come back to you.”

MASTERLIST || BUCK MASTERLIST

#sansaorgana: Answered #lovely anons #austin butler x reader #gale cleven x reader #*buck #lilysfiction

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hadesisqueer · 1 month

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One of the things I really disagree with is that benders in LoK are weaker than in ATLA.

Like, maybe normal benders kinda were. Peaceful times and all, average benders in LoK probably weren't as strong or trained as people who were forced to learn how to fight because there was a war going on.

Now, top benders, benders who actually take a role in the story? Not really.

We didn't actually see many Firebenders in LoK aside Mako, Iroh II, P'li and 88yo Zuko who we only saw fight once at the North Pole at night, at his weakest, okay. And well, Korra. Still, P'li was one of the rarest benders in the franchise. And Mako was a pretty talented Firebender, and Korra was about his level except the lightning generation thing. They're not Ozai or Iroh, okay, I'll give you that, but about Show Zuko level. And Iroh II was pretty good too.

We didn't see many Airbenders in ATLA, with the whole Aang being the last one thing. We know Gyatso was great we didn't actually see him bend (aside throwing pies or messing with Aang to cheer him up), nor any other airbenders aside other kids-- and also, all that was before ATLA, in flashbacks. Aang was a prodigy and very powerful. But in LoK, Tenzin wasn't a slouch either. Neither was Jinora, who was also a spiritual prodigy, or Zaheer, or even Kai, who was also pretty good considering the kid had only gotten airbending a few weeks ago. And Korra herself ended up becoming a pretty good airbender. Neither her or nearly all of the others were at Aang the Airbending Prodigy's level, okay, but all of them were good, most of all Tenzin. Tenzin was one of the strongest benders in the franchise overall, and tbh he was probably better than ATLA Aang (but probably not as good as Peak Aang).

The strongest Earthbenders in ATLA are Toph and King Bumi, and most of all Toph, I agree with saying that they are stronger than all the other Earthenders in LOK; the only ones who could keep up with them in terms of just earthbending are people like Yun or Jianzhu from Kuruk's and Kyoshi's Era, or, you know, Kyoshi herself as an adult. However, those are the two only Earthbenders who stick out more than LOK'S. The other talented Earthbenders in ATLA-- guys, come at me. Come at me, look me in the eye and tell me that you actually think Tyro or Haru could beat Lin, Su or Kuvira. Tell me that you actually think that any Dai Li agent of Aang's time could beat Bolin or Ghazan. C'mon, tell me, tell me that you actually believe that. Toph was the exception of ATLA, not the rule. Aside her and probably Bumi —and Lavabending and Metalbending could still give any of the others an advantage against him that gives them the ability to put up a good fight—, any Earthbender in LOK could probably beat any other Earthbender in ATLA without breaking a sweat.

And in terms of Waterbending it's not just that the Waterbenders in LOK are as strong as the ATLA ones, it's that most of them are stronger. The only notable Waterbenders in ATLA (the only ones if we're being honest, we didn't see many Waterbenders). Were Katara, Pakku, Hama and Aang. Aang was a weaker Waterbender than any of the previously mentioned ones, and Bloodbending inventor Hama got beat up by 14yo Katara. So, really, the strongest ones are Katara and Pakku. Now, Legend of Korra had, let's see *checks* Amon, Yakone, Unalaq, Tarrlok, Korra herself, Ming-Hua-- damn, even 'weaker' Waterbenders like Tonraq, Kya II, Eska or Desna are still pretty skilled. Most Waterbenders in LOK are insanely OP, and generally stronger than even the strongest at ATLA. For example, in terms of raw power —idk about skill, that's a different thing—, Amon beats people like Katara and Pakku easily; his raw power was, well, more powerful than Korra's, who has the biggest pure Waterbending feat in the franchise, and than Tarrlok's, who had more raw power than Korra, at least in Book 1. The guy was likely the most powerful non-Avatar bender in the franchise.

#avatar the last airbender #legend of korra #avatar aang #avatar korra #avatar kyoshi #tonraq #unalaq #amon #tarrlok #yakone #mako avatar #lok bolin #katara #prince zuko #master pakku

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x-liv25-jamieswife · 8 days

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everything we know about games untold so far as of september 23th

because i had nothing better to do, i decided to stalk jlb's insta for all the info we have on games untold so far (it was absolute torture but worth it). i'll update this as often as i can as we get more information. all of this information comes from jlb's insta (some from posts and some from comments). if any of you have questions on where i found some of this information, i'll do my best to find it again and respond, but, like i said, some of this info comes from her comment section on her insta posts and i might not be able to find it again.

timeline

the book takes place before the grandest game but is meant to be read after (i don't remember why. i think its because there are things in games untold that could spoil tgg but pls correct me if i'm wrong). the stories (or scenes ig) range from before some of the grandsons were born to right before tgg. most of the stories are set after tbh.

this means that none of the characters introduced in tgg will appear in games untold.

novellas

-> that night in prague

"a challenged heiress. a game like no other. a night ending in flames."

the story is told from avery's pov (first person). its about the three days that averyjameson spent in prague, including that night jameson kept mentioning in tbh. jlb says its the most averyjameson thing she's ever written. the novella shows who avery and jameson are together and how they puzzle and push each other.

the post jlb made about this novella has a key in the bottom left corner (each post has a different item).

-> the same backward as forward

"she has every reason to hate him. he cannot remember why"

this story is from hannah's pov (first person). hannah is a few years older than avery was in the inheritance games. the novella is technically long enough to be considered a novel. jlb mentioned that she cried actual tears (which she rarely does when reading according to her) when rereading this novella.

the post jlb made about this novella has a compass in the bottom left corner.

stories

-> the cowboy and the goth

"an unlikely love story"

this story is told from libby's pov (first person). scenes span the original trilogy and the brother's hawthorne, up to shortly before the grandest game. nash is obviously one of the main characters in the story (and jlb mentioned that writing this made her fall in love with him even more)

although you could technically read the collection of novellas and stories in any order, jlb recommends reading this story after tobannah's novella because it adds some extra meaning.

the post jlb made about this story has a cowboy boot in the bottom left corner.

-> five times xander tackled someone (and one time he didn't)

this story is told form xander's pov (close third person). it contains one of her favorite maxander moments. it starts when xander was two years old and goes all the way up through the final gambit.

jlb mentioned that we'll get a xander/thea/rebecca scene in this colection of novellas and short stories. i can't remember if she specified which story, but i'm assuming it's this one.

the post jlb made about this story has a coin in the bottom left corner.

-> one hawthorne night (previously released as bonus tfg content)

"karaoke. leather pants. grayson hawthorne"

this story is from grayson's pov (close third person). it's set right after tfg (before the epilogue).

jlb says that the energy we get from this story is what we can expect from most of this collection.

the post jlb made about this story has a sword in the bottom left corner.

-> $3CR3T S@NT@

"at hawthorne house, christmas is a contact sport"

this story is from avery's pov (she didn't specify whether it was first person of close third person, but i'm guessing its first person). it has a lot in common with the game 'assassins' and is set a few weeks after tfg (the last chapter, not the epilogue). it's avery's 'first time playing'.

the post jlb made about this story also has a key in the bottom left corner.

-> what happens in the treehouse (previously released as bonus tbh content)

i don't remember what pov this was but i think it was third person xander. the story is about nash's bachelor party and is set shortly after nash announces his engagement to libby.

the post jlb made about this story has a compass in the bottom left corner.

-> pain at the right gun

according to jlb, everything about this story is top secret. the only thing we know is that she recommends reading this story last.

the post jlb made about this story also has a cowboy hat in the bottom left corner.

exclusive editions

-> barnes and noble (usa) / indigo (canada)

the bonus content for this edition includes 3 (i think) unfinished stories with short introductions for each one. one story involves grayson and april fools, another includes max and hilarity, and the other is a secret. the cover for this edition is a pinkish dark orange.

-> target

this is the edition jlb associates with toby and hannah. the bonus content includes pages from jlb's journal focused on the development of tobannah's story. this edition is silver (which jlb says suits toby and hannah well)

-> waterstone

i really don't know much about this edition, but i remember that it has sprayed edges. i dont think it has any bonus content inside though.

quotes

" 'you're hawthornes,' the old man said. 'if you're going to do something - and i do consider wrestling to be something - then do it well. do it right.'"

-> i think this quote comes from secret santa. wrestling is a contact sport, and jlb, when talking about secret santa, says that christmas, at hawthorne house, is a contact sport.

" 'you are fiendish, avery kylie grambs. as far as distractions go, that one wasn't even fair.' I shrugged, 'i play dirty.'"

-> the quote comes from the avery card jlb posted on instagram. the 's' in 'as' is in bold so i'm guessing that once we have all eight cards, we'll get a word/phrase. i'm guessing this comes from the averyjameson novella. she's the queen of spades and she's wearing a necklace with a key pendant.

"'i'll make you a bet, libby grambs.' nash nods to the pocket in which he's getting ready to sink the eight ball, does the deed, and sets the pool cue down.'

-> the quote comes from the libby card jlb posted on instagram. the 'i' in 'in' is in bold. this probably comes from the libbynash story. she's the ace of hearts and she's holding a cupcake.

"nash hawthorne is pale blue skies. he's grass and mud. he's steady."

-> the quote comes from the nash card jlb posted on her instagram. the last 's' in 'skies' is in bold. based on what we know, this probably comes from the libbynash story. he's the king of hearts and he's wearing a cowboy hat.

"maxine liu was absolutely, positively not going to show xander hawthorne her tattoo- the very nerdy, extremely secret tattoo she'd admitted to hours earlier in hawthorne chutes and ladders."

-> the quote comes from the xander card jlb posted on her instagram. the last 't' in 'tattoo' is in bold. i'm guessing this comes from the unfinished max story that will be available in the b&n/indigo edition of games untold. he's the jack of hearts and he's holding a wrench.

"toby hawthorne was the damn ocean. he was a force. he was awful and wonderful and whether he was here or not, whether i ever saw him again or not- he was never going to be nothing to me"

-> the quote comes form the toby card jlb posted on her instagram. the 'c' in 'ocean' is in bold. i'm guessing this comes from the tobannah novella. he's the eight of diamonds and he's holding a lighter.

"i was a hannah with two h's, and i was supposed to be invisible. the two of us definitely wouldn't be seeing each other again. we wouldn't be setting the world on fire. he never should have seen me at all."

-> the quote comes from the hannah card jlb posted on her insta. the 'o' in 'on' is in bold. this probably comes from the tobannah novella. she's the eight of spades and she's holding a postcard.

"'i am not naming the dog.' i tell him. "but if i did, i'd call her trouble.'"

-> this comes from the tiramisu card jlb posted on her insta. the 'n' in 'naming' is in bold. he's wearing a collar with a ring on it and he's the two of hearts.

all the character cards (so far): here

miscellaneous information

its 427 pages long

the stories can be read in any order (except the last; that one has to be read last), but jlb recommends reading straight through (i mentioned this earlier but i felt like it was worth repeating)

all of the books have art inside (even the standard edition)

its the most romantic, tragic, funnest, and fluffiest thing jlb has ever written according to her.

we get over 100 pages of avery pov

the book is out november 12th (in the usa and canada, i'm not sure about other countries)

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faeriichaii · 3 months

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Hello! May I request Aragorn realising his feelings towards reader who is cold and distant and regal, and how he would try to get to know them better? Preferably male reader, but gender-neutral is fine, too. If you don’t write for either, then I’m sorry to ask. I only want you to write what you’re comfortable with. Thank you for your time.

Worthy Enough ~ Aragorn x GN!Reader

A/N: Omg I am finally back!! I'm so sorry that it took me soooo long to work on this request but work completely took over my life and I basically had no free time whatsoever- But now I have a lil vacation so I will try to work on most of my requests and push through them haha. I also am quite surprised cause this was sooooo hard for me to write (probably also cause I took a break from writing and all rip) But I still hope you like it! And lmk if you do (and lmk if you don't haha)

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Warnings: tbh idk? ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Words: 912 ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Request: Yes (thank you <33) ࿐ྂ Summary: Aragorn slowly begins to understand you and tries to find out even more about you

Not even a wince left your lips as Aragorn put the green balm on top of a stab wound you received during the last battle you encountered. The only sign to let him know that the concoction stung upon your skin was the twitch of your eyebrow. Aragorn has known you for a while now. The two of you traveling far and wide until Frodo and his friends stumbled upon you. Since then, you have been wandering the lands with the purpose of destroying the ring. “How come you let the arrow struck you? Normally you are more careful than that.” Your eyes were focused on the ground, thinking about how this arrow wasn’t even meant for you.

“I guess my mind was occupied by the Orc in front of me.” Aragorn nodded at your answer. He knew that it was a lie. Normally you could handle up to three of them simultaneously, without getting your own blood spilled. So, it was a real surprise to him as he spotted you, hand on your shoulder and a slightly pain filled grimace gracing your face. Taking the gauze, he carefully wrapped the wound, making sure that it wasn’t to lose and neither too tight. A slight grunt left your lips, as you tried to rotate your arm. “Make sure to change the gauze at least twice a day.” Aragorn said, before leaving your side and joining the others for some dinner.

His thoughts were occupied by you. He knows that you tend to keep to yourself and rarely join in when it comes to conversations. This doesn’t make you less liked by the company. Quite the opposite. Sometimes Frodo takes a little stroll with you, just so he could talk to you and have you listen to his burdens or any thoughts on his mind. Legolas also quite enjoys gathering herbs with you. You’re so calm and collected, that it really helps him focus on his surroundings and get in touch easier with nature. Aragorn also can’t deny that you are his favourite partner, when it comes to keeping watch during the night. Especially as he remembers the talk of a few weeks ago.

Both of you were watching the flames dance, while keeping your ears strained for any unfamiliar noise that might signal an approaching enemy. Your sword was leaning on the log you were sitting on. “How come you let me join you?” Your voice cut through the silence, making Aragorn turn his attention from the fire to you. “What do you mean?” “You could have declined my offer when I asked you if I could accompany you. But you didn’t. Why?” He thought about your words carefully. He had declined any other offer he received of company. Of friends who wanted to join him. Of people who wanted to be by his side. But your offer seemed different to him.

“I think it was the way you asked me. You never really asked me to begin with. You joined in a brawl I unluckily got myself caught in and helped me. And since then, we have travelled together.” A hum left your lips, as you analysed his answer while watching the flames wrap around the darkness of the night. “I just had this urge to help you. It almost felt like something was calling me to your aid.” Aragorn leaned forward, intrigued in your words. “Back then I was searching for a purpose of my existence. For something I could do with my life. I had no home and neither did I have a family. It has always just been me in this godforsaken world.” A sigh left your lips. You have never opened up to someone, but it felt strangely nice.

“I fought to survive and I fought even harder for people who couldn’t defend themselves. I knew I wanted to protect people. And I knew I wanted to find someone who was in my eyes worthy enough to protect. Someone who I knew would do anything to change the world and form it into a better place.” You looked at Aragorn, a gentle smile on your lips. “I knew that when I saw you fight off these men, which caused ruckus in that tavern, that you were this one person I was meant to travel with.”

Aragorn back then was very surprised to have you open up to him. In all these years prior of you both travelling together, you never initiated any kind of deep talk with him. Especially when it came to your past. Of course, he asked in the beginning, but most times you tried to switch the topic to something else. Which is another reason, as to why he started analysing you and your decisions. He tried to understand you more and see things in your perspective. Which is why he knew exactly how you received the wound from battle.

The hours passed quickly and most of the company already went to bed, except for you and Aragorn, who decided to spend the first watch together. Your hands were behind you, supporting part of your weight while you leaned back and watched the various stars on the night sky. “I know that you lied to me.” Your attention drifted from the lights to Aragorn, who was still sitting on one of the logs by the campfire. Tilting your head, he just gave you a smile before continuing. “Thank you for deeming me worthy enough.”

#the lord of the rings #lord of the rings #fluff #the lord of the rings fanfiction #lotr fanfic #lotr movies #lord of the rings fic #lotr #middle earth #x reader #aragorn #aragorn x reader #aragorn x gn!reader #gn!reader #gn reader

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cupcakeslushie · 1 year

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Hello,

HOLLY SH*T (about the last update)

When Leo gets his memories back does he also remember those (f*cking)400 days?

How would Leo have grown up to be like, if his memories weren't taken from him? (would he have become kind of like Donnie?)

will he ever open up to someone about this?

Does he have some kind of triggers left from the experience, even though his memories wee taken from it?

I adore your work and Have a great week 😁

1. 🤗

2. So, Leo’s issues are like a leak in a dam constantly trying to be held back. Kitsune’s magic can suppress or manipulate his memories, but a lot still manage to get through. Hence the need for the repeated sessions, and then later the Empyrean, to act as a booster to her magic—as Leo has built up a tolerance over the years, making it less and less effective. Leo does remember some things. Unfortunately, every time he starts to ask questions, he’s been so conditioned to seek out Kitsune to ‘fix’ his mind and suppress his emotions. But some of his memories were impossible to erase completely. They followed him around like little shadows, haunting him, and his choices. Leo is not stupid. He more discerning than he let’s on, and like Saki said, fear can be a powerful motivator. By the time Leo’s managed to claw his way up to a better position, he’s been fed so many lies that he doesn’t even trust his own reasoning. It’s just easier, and less painful to follow orders, no matter what his brain is constantly trying to tell him.

3. Tbh Leo probably wouldn’t have been very different from how he is. Shredder is a lot more…calculating in his abuse of Leo, than Draxum was for Donnie. Draxum was so unpredictable and volatile in his abuse. Everything that Donnie tried to do better, never seemed to help lessen his torture. It was just pain for the sake of pain. Shredder may be a monster, but his abuse had a goal—to make a warrior he could puppet into killing Yoshi. Saki didn’t just provide constant trauma, he gave positive reinforcement when Leo did something right, and used careful manipulation to bend Leo over to his side. All Kitsune’s spell did was make it easier and faster. If Shredder hadn’t had magic at his disposal, then it would’ve just taken more time and effort to break Leo and remold him, or Shredder might’ve just cut his losses and killed him.

4. Leo doesn’t want to burden his brothers with things that have already passed, and that feeling only gets stronger after he’s been saved from the Dark Armor. He’s constantly insisting that he doesn’t feel one way or the other from those days. It happened, but he says he feels so disconnected from it all. Leo’s earlier return to his family had already been filled with so much fighting, thanks to his withdrawals when he was first brought home causing him to act so erratic. Leo thinks as long as he’s not shouting at his brothers, or trying to attack Splinter, that he’s dealing with everything pretty well. Obviously that’s bullshit. But he’s gonna do a lot of healing during his trip with Usagi.

5. Leo’s worst triggers are when his family is in danger. Those times are when he falls back into either total bloodlust, or a more ruthless mentality, in order to protect them. Leo getting recaptured and thrown back into a cell will be like a wave of memories and trauma hitting him at full force. Like I’ve mention in point 1. He never totally forgot certain things, but the months spent free of Kitsune’s influence makes his second capture so much worse. He’ll be feeling all that fear and panic unfiltered, for the first time in years, and he’ll be able to recall the true horror of it—not the watered down, warped simulacrum Shredder wanted him to remember. Which loops back to point 4 about Leo’s lack of admitting his feelings being a coping mechanism. Once he gets rescued, unconsciously, he’s trying to mimic the dampening effect of Kitsune’s spell, by insisting through sheer force of will, that everything is fine. He can only convince himself that he’s unaffected by everything he’s experienced for so long.

6. Thank you!!! I hope you have an amazing week as well!

I’m sorry if this is kinda rambling, all these ideas be more clearly implemented in the comic, (at least I hope lol).

I also can’t remember how long ago I’ve even talked about Leo’s memory problems in one of these replies. I might be totally backtracking cause I think I’ve said before his memory was wiped completely, but I’ve been thinking it would give more complexity to his choices, if it was revealed his memory was actually more intact than Mikey’s this whole time. Mikey brain just needed a little boost from Raph, because his issue came more from him being so young that things faded over time. With Leo, it’s like a battle where his brain is trying to latch on to what it can to fight the effects of Kitsune’s spell. So his memory may be full of holes and beaten with a stick over and over, but it’s still knocking around in Leo’s head.

#rottmnt #ask slushie #rise of the tmnt #rise leo #Sep!au infodump #rottmnt separated au #separated au #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #ew au #empyrean weeping au

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akingdomscrypt · 4 months

Text

War is Over (and what have we done?)

Part Five

Paring; Graves x m!reader (slow burn)

WC; ~8.8k

Summary; where was Graves in all those months he was gone? What brought him back?

Warnings; just some general internal turmoil, brief imagery of death, implied human trafficking when including the context of past chapters, a lot of self doubt/feelings of betrayal. Tame compared to my usual stuff tbh

A/n; I hate dialogue. Also the moon phase mentioned in the beginning is what it would have been in-game for that mission too :3

---"And I'll crawl home to him"---

You arrive a few hours later, according to the ticking clock above the bed—knife still embedded into the plastic face and all, he hadn't bothered to remove it, even after all this time—and at that point Phil had started to believe Venn had chickened out. That, or she just didn't bother telling you.. perhaps she had forgotten. All were of an extremely low probability. He should know better by now than to doubt her.

Even now, only a few weeks later. You looked so.. so drastically different. Phil takes stock, compares your current form from when he had last seen you all those weeks ago—had it been weeks? Phil didn't even know what day it was.

Drifting. Up, down, and across every inch of your concealed form. Something foreign pulls at the hardened strings of his heart—strands of silk toughened up by years upon years of repressed emotion and poorly dealt hands—at the sight of you. Standing tall and confident, as if he can't see the strain buried in your shoulders from the effort of holding yourself up, keeping yourself from crumbling to dust right before his eyes. And he swears you've lost weight, a noticeable difference in the amount of muscle mass wrapped around your bones, even under all that clothing.

When his gaze meets yours, taking a peek into the torn and frayed patchwork of your soul, all he can feel is the stinging reminder of you wishing him dead. Telling him you'd hoped he'd died all those months back; suffocated by his own lungs.

And it's like the past decade of getting to know you, watching you open up, never happened. Wound so tightly, that all that progress is dumped right down the drain; he isn't sure if he'd ever be able to tear down those walls again. Not this time. He scrambles brick by brick to reach the top, but you're too fast, replacing those crumbling stacks with bolts and iron at an alarming rate.

He can't see over the wall anymore, it's too high to reach, too steep to climb. And he fears he may never have the honor of reaching that softer center ever again, barred by thick metal and scathing words.

“You wanted to see me?” Hell… you even sound different. Cool and collected on the surface, but there's an edge there that tells Phil you're not as put together as you are trying to appear to be.

“I did.” But now that you're here, he can't remember the script he'd spent the last week constructing, so delicately, in his mind.

“Well,” you drawl, lifting your arms and gesturing widely. Dropping back down to your sides with a dull smack. “I'm here.”

Are you? Phil doesn't think so. Not really.

Your eyes are the only thing on display, and just a year ago Phil wouldn've prided himself in the fact that he could read you so well. But not anymore.

He can't see that lighthouse shining through, guiding him through the night. There's nothing there. The lamp has run out of oil, and the keeper died months ago.

You're right here, and yet Phil has never found you to be so out of reach.

Who would've thought; his savior, and the one who had damned him to the fiery pits of hell, were both the same man. It felt almost poetic.

Phil thinks he had made peace with his death. Sure, this hadn't been what his younger self had imagined when the topic of death was brought up; still bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, believing himself to be near invincible.

He had never been particularly religious, even after being forced to sit in those church pews and listen to some old man drone on and on about shit his child brain didn't care to make sense of. Bored out of his mind, but only sitting still, behaving, because doing the opposite meant taking over his younger sister's chores for the rest of the day.

Phil still couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was some sort of fucked-up retribution or some shit like that. Paying for the sins he'd committed within his lifespan, and so on.

And he wasn't just speaking of the blood that permanently stained his hands, no, he was thinking of you. Always you.

You and those endless pools of warmth that made up your eyes, always a slight glimmer in them when you looked his way. You and those rough, work-hardened hands, always so soft and gentle when you handled him. Like he was something delicate, something to be cherished and protected. Him the altar and you the devoted worshiper knelt before him, praying for the mercy of a god who never answered your calls.

And that laugh. Like nothing else he had experienced before, a blessed thing he was granted the honor of witnessing. Of having directed his way. So rare, but so carefully captured and sealed away in Phil's heart when he heard its boisterous sound.

The main reason Phil had never really connected with the religion he was raised into was, even though they were the same people who preached about community and loving thy neighbor and whatever the hell, they were also the kind to shun and exile those they deemed unworthy. Those who didn't fit into the cookie cutter shapes chosen for them before they'd even taken their first breath.

He had completely dismissed his family's religion entirely when, after one of the members of his church discovered him getting a bit too cuddly—nothing more than an innocent hug that lasted a few seconds longer than it should—with one of his male classmates, they were outcast from the very same church he'd practically grown up in. And Phil would forever be thankful for having parents who stuck up for him to the very end, he doesn't think he'd ever seen his dad so thoroughly pissed off than when going after a churchgoer who'd slung a few cruel choice words at a younger Phil.

And Phil can't help but feel he knew this was how it would end when he made the decision; like some cruel method of justice.

So, while he no longer considered himself aligned with any specific religion, Phil still held onto that deep-rooted fear of something. Of damnation and redemption. And in that moment, as his heart began to slow and stutter in his chest, when his head felt too heavy to hold up, and the simple task of breathing caused his chest to burn, he did something he hadn't done since middle school. Something he never thought he'd do again.

He yearned for forgiveness; begged and pleaded until black swallowed up his vision whole.

Phil doesn't remember when the world had gone dark; doesn't think he had even fought against the pull. Willingly, had he responded to the siren's call through the waves crashing in his ear, a sound so alluring he would never even consider resisting, one that held a certain likeness to your voice.

What he does remember is the sudden gulps of stinging ash in his lungs, shocking his system into alertness, and the touch of oddly cool hands pulling at his shoulders. Hard, sandy earth beneath him, but he can't look up, can't peel his eyelids open and take a glance at his savior when those hands disappear. Only to wrap a pair of arms snug around his waist and continue dragging him over jagged stones and bits of metal.

It's not until Phil abruptly feels a lot cooler than he did moments ago that he's finally able to force his eyes open, a gasping breath kick-starting his heart back into motion.

And when he looks up, dazed and more than a little out of it, what he sees nearly steals his breath away once again.

Smoke wafting off your uniform in waves, dancing with the remaining embers still shining bright in a sea of black like stars in a night sky. It should be terrifying, but it's not.

Because Phil cannot see how the material clings unnaturally to your body, his brain is too fogged up still to notice the torn patches in your clothing. Blood stains the dark fabric into a deeper shade, trickling from gouges in your skin and dripping onto his.

All he sees is that perfect, unmarred face of yours. Mask pulled down and out of the way as you pant for breath; the flesh warmed a more intense reddish tone than usual, but Phil didn't register that, unable to yet comprehend that what was once untouched would soon become scarred and disfigured within the next few hours.

And with the setting sun positioned behind you, glowing almost like an angel's halo to frame your head, he had never been so enraptured by the sight of you as much as he was in that moment.

It's clumsy and uncoordinated, taking a few tries to even get the limb to function, but he manages. Reaching up to gently cup the jaw of his savior, his guardian angel, to feel that familiar warmth against his skin.

Only to have his wrist snatched out of the air by your still gloved hand, the hold a little tighter than normal, held for a second before being dropped carelessly onto his chest. And Phil doesn't have the energy to lift it again.

“You breathin', sir?” Comes your once angelic voice, now sounding like someone had shoved a saw blade down your throat; scratchy and not at all the soothing rumble he was used to, a strange shiver alighting his nerves at the sound.

All Phil can muster up is a strained, grunt-like sound in response. But that seems to be more than enough for you as you stand back up from your crouched position, sigh, and look over the ruined training grounds.

There's a hard set to your jaw, and Phil begins to feel something akin to fear. An emotion he doesn't think he could recall ever feeling around you if he tried.

“Good enough.” You huff, leaning back down to wrap your strong arms around his waist. Dragging him like a ragdoll to a more secluded, out-of-the-way spot just outside the remains of the designated training area.

He can't fight it, can bring himself to move or speak or do much of anything, really. Laying limp in your hold and letting himself be hauled away.

Phil considers that whatever method of exfil you had prepared must be this way. He doesn't remember making any plans like that with you and the others. But why else would you take him here?

Those hopes are crushed when you prop him against a fallen log, the remains of Alejandro's base now just barely out of sight, then pull away.

“This should be fine,” you mumble to yourself, cold gaze studying him briefly before darting back to where you two had come from. “Mhm. They shouldn't patrol this far.”

“-nant?-” Crackles through your radio before Phil can muster the energy to ask you what you meant by that. The feed is distorted, the device had probably been damaged sometime during the fight, but it's clearly a panicked voice speaking on the other end. “-Lieu-en-t? Are- y- there? Pha-nt-m?-”

“2-3,” you respond, voice level. “I'm here. Problem?”

“-N-o, no problems, sir-” Kip, 2-3, says. A little calmer now that he has heard your voice. Phil watches the scene through blurry eyes. “-We got- he's- Viper is stable-”

“For now.” You mutter bitterly, switching the radio back on to reply with, “Give me a sit-rep, 2-3.”

“-V-enn’s got ‘em lo-aded up-” a pause. “-a quarter left, sir.”

A quarter left. Even in Phil’s muddled up state, he knows what that means. It meant three-quarters of the soldiers he had taken with him were dead. Too many to feasibly count. So many bodies left unidentified, in enemy territory.

“-How-re yo-u and the- c-mander, Lt.?-” Phil would've said something if he could. But his vocal cords are paralyzed and his tongue feels like it's constructed of pure lead.

“I’m breathing.” You joke, your slight amusement is obvious even in such a bland tone. At least to Phil it is.

“A-nd,” if Kip notices, he doesn't mention it. “-and the commander?”

You spare one glance down at his slumped, barely breathing form, gaze shut-off and distant, and a cavernous pit of dread opens up in Phil's stomach.

“KIA.” You grunt, eyes narrowing down at Phil. And he may as well be, to have you look at him like that.

Kip doesn't respond and you click your radio off. And it's as easy as that, as if Phil, your co-founder, your friend, you lover, meant nothing to you.

You turn and leave, and Phil doesn't even possess the ability to call your name.

The next time he wakes, Phil doesn't think he's been colder in his damn life. And he's done his time in deep dive operations in the frigid hellscape that is the wilderness of remote foreign bases just past the Bering Sea.

It's dark, stars and the illumination of the moons’ waxing gibbous all the man has to light his way.

For a prolonged moment Phil doesn't even consider pushing himself up from his current pathetic, slumped over position against the decaying log. Would it even be worth it? He had nothing but the singed clothes on his back to call his own, not a weapon he can use in sight. Not even a pocket knife up his sleeve or a heart nestled in his ribcage.

Phil has experienced his own fair share of betrayal within his lifetime; ranging from small, nonsense instances with his little sister, to slightly bigger ones like with the church; then there were the more prominent, glaring ones that stuck out like a sore thumb. From before he started this damn company, freshly enlisted, and only a year later when he met you.

With shitty, high ranked officers who didn't give a single fuck about what happened to him or his squad—not that that had changed much after being taken under the watchful eye of General Shepard. Freezing to death in bumfuck nowhere Russia, or nearly drowning in the middle of the goddamn Atlantic Ocean.

You had been there for every single one. Such a constant in his life; a steady, unmovable force by Phil's side no matter what happened. Even before he'd fallen for you, before you became more than just a friend. Like two peas in a pod, you two.

There was no you without him, and vise versa, the soldiers you two worked with knew it too. They were always sure to throw in a teasing jab now and again, asking the typical “trouble in paradise?”, when you were spotted away from each other for more than a few hours.

So forgive Phil for being a bit melodramatic, because, out of all the people on this godforsaken planet, he never expected such a thing from you.

Maybe he should have. He wouldn't be on the verge of catching fucking hypothermia in the middle of nowhere in a foreign country.

Phil tries to think back, to push past the pounding in his skull to recall even a moment that would have given away some sort of clue to your betrayal before it happened. Maybe he could've prevented it if he had just looked closer.

But no. There's nothing. If anything, Phil recalls you being a bit more.. clingy, before this whole thing started. In your own way, of course; he's pretty sure you would rather be caught dead than let someone catch you hugging him or, heaven forbid, holding his hand.

Your neediness manifested in standing just close enough to him that any shift in stance or movement caused your shoulders to brush together; getting up in his personal space and staying there.

Maybe that was it? Maybe you had been so unusually affectionate because you'd planned on betraying him. And Phil was just too blinded by the sudden influx of your undivided attention to see it; he's starting to consider that that may have been your intention all along.

To distract him with your attention, to hide your true intentions under the guise of gentle words and adoring eyes.

Phil gives it a few more minutes, shivering his ass off against that damn log, before he finally gives in and decides to stand. He wasn't dead—yet—and by staying he was nothing more than a sitting duck in shark infested waters—which was a weird saying, wasn't it; how could the waters be infested when that was a shark's natural habitat?

Traveling under the blanket of night provided him with the highest chances of survival, even if it meant he was constantly on the verge of freezing to death. Under the dark, star speckled sky, he was, for the most part, safe from the prying eyes of enemy soldiers. It would be much more difficult for them to spot him under the protection of a waxing moon than, say, the full, all-encompassing concentrated power of the fucking sun.

So he gets his hands under himself, weakened arms trying their damnedest to force him to his feet. Phil takes a moment, leaning against a strong, tall tree that was luckily rooted right beside its fallen brethren.

The last time he had put anything in his stomach was yesterday (?) morning before they had been so rudely interrupted by the 141 boys knocking on their—or, really, not theirs at all—front door. And after an afternoon like that, all his energy was beyond drained. It's a surprise Phil was still standing—not that he was exactly doing a very good job at that—, though, to be fair, he wasn't new to going lengths of time without proper sustenance. It was a byproduct of the job, of the life he led, after all.

Phil can't do anything to rectify his current hunger right now, so he has no choice other than start getting some miles between himself and the wrecked base next door.

Signing, he looks down, spotting a small dagger lodged into the tree he'd been resting against before. Huh, at least you hadn't left him completely defenseless.

Knife secured in his boot, Phil begins the long trek to who knows where. It's not like he could just make his way back to company HQ, now could he? Not when it was so damn clear he was an unwanted face there.

The chipped watch on his wrist reads o-five-hundred, giving him about an hour until sunrise. Phil has already made pretty good progress, if he did say so himself. And the Vaqueros base has long since faded from his view; leaving Phil to now wander aimlessly through the harsh Mexican terrain; traversing over dry, crumbling rocks through a sparse forest, avoiding sudden drop offs and twisted roots on wobbly legs.

Phil had detoured around the broken city of Las Almas, a certain brand of discomfort crawling up his spine and settling heavy across his shoulders at the mere thought of passing through the ruined city. The barest glimpses of it he'd gotten bore the harsh reality of cobblestone roads still bathed in watery crimson, the familiar color splattered over everything within reach; streaked over stone walls and staining the clothes of bodies still laying cold, face-down in the streets.

One look at the carnage left behind and he'd nearly doubled over from the sheer force of the sudden churning of his stomach. Expelling the bile building at the back of his throat would only end in the burning of his esophagus from his empty, acid-filled belly. There were likely valuable resources left behind in the town, something to aid him in his solo travels, but he quickly dismissed the idea at the sight.

He'd rather skip this city and continue to walk with nothing to his name but the clothes on his body and the knife in his boot then be forced to face that massacre.

Phil hopes, come morning, the very same people he'd stabbed in the back take the time to ghost over the town and dispose of the mess he'd left behind. To reap the souls of those innocent civilians and treat their bodies with much kinder hands than his own Shadows had.

Phil was really getting tired of waking up to people dragging his ass around.

Well, judging by the way, at least this time around, there were no sharp rocks digging into his spine and the fact that this ride was.. quite bumpy, it appeared Phil was being carried this time. What an improvement.

And while he should probably be very concerned as to who, or what, exactly, is carrying him from point A—aka, where he'd likely had passed out again—to point B, the man can't bring himself to care. He doesn't have the energy for it.

Instead, he's in a bit of a daze. Wondering how in the everloving fuck this damn country jumped from near freezing in the night, to scorching hot temperatures that could rival the damn devil. All Phil remembers leading up to this is him cursing the damn sun with his whole chest, feeling like his freaking skin was melting off, then somehow finding himself face-down in the goddamn sand—when had he made it into the damn desert??

And now he was here.

Being carried to God knows where, still sweating profusely under his clothes—how his body still had the capability to sweat when he was already so dehydrated, was beyond him—and too tired to do anything more than lay there.

Phil must've drifted off again at some point, because when he wakes again he's no longer moving. Instead he's flat out on his back, a hard surface beneath him not unlike the old bunks he'd slept on when he was a newbie, and his entire body feels like one giant ass bruise. An all encompassing ache that traveled from the base of his skull to the tips of his toes—as if, now that he was finally resting, his entire body had collectively agreed to seek revenge on his overused muscles.

Distantly, he can hear the chatter of a man and a woman speaking in hushed voices, muttered Spanish drifting from somewhere to his left.

Every instinct that had been ingrained into him screams at Phil to launch himself up and either attack or make a run for it. He does neither, too exhausted to even move or open his eyes, much less to try and stand.

He ends up dancing on the fine line between consciousness and slumber while the two strangers talk, presumably, about him. Lingering in that peculiar space where you're not quite awake, but you're not sleeping either; able to hear and feel, but not aware enough to get up and move.

Phil chose to use that time to attempt to listen in, see what all, if any, of the words he could catch. He wasn't going to pretend to know more than he did, as Phil really only knew the more simple Spanish phrases from his time in highschool when it was a required course. He picks up the usual filler words, a few pronouns, something that sounds much like ‘the American’, and the suppressed voices briefly increasing in volume, rushed, before quieting. Then silence.

With nothing to stimulate his brain, Phil once again falls into a fitful rest.

Power? Is that what this had been about? In all the years Phil has known you, he never would've thought of you as the type. But could that have been what you were after the entire time? And all these years you were just biding your time, waiting for the best time to strike.

How could he have been so blind, how did he not see this coming? The person closest to him, a man who knew more about Phil than any single other person to exist. He should've seen this miles away before it hit him like a fucking freight train.

This is why you had to turn on others before they had the chance to flip the blade on you first—a lesson Phil had learned oh-so long ago. After all this time, how the hell had he forgotten that?

Which is why, the second Phil has the capacity to, he bolts upright and does his best to regain his bearings. A little dizzy, body shaky, limbs trembling from a lack of nutrients, but no longer in the fetal position at least. As aware as he physically can be.

Somewhere between blinking away the blur obscuring his vision and forcing himself into a fully seated position, Phil hears the two voices again

Faint at first. Then growing louder. Closer.

Phil's eyes, still unfocused, dart around his surroundings.

A room. Closed off with only one door, and a window too small for his body. Below him is some sort of flimsy cot placed in the corner furthest from the exit, one that's metal frame squeals with the slightest movements.

Getting distinct now, one woman and one man, just as before.

Phil's hand shoots down, patting his boot; heart rate skyrocketing when the man realizes the knife is missing. His crutch, the only thing he'd possessed to defend himself beyond his own bare hands. It was gone.

They'd taken it from him.

Closer, closer, closer still. The door opens, hinges creaking as a tall, heavy set man walks in; black, cropped hair and a well kept mustache are the first things he notes. And Phil can immediately tell that, even if he were standing, there's no way this guy wouldn't tower over him.

That is a problem. Not because Phil hasn't taken on much large men than himself, but because he usually managed such a feat when fully put together and decidedly not when half-starved, dehydrated, and barely conscious.

While the man approaches Phil with a certain air of caution, the woman, on the other hand, stays behind. Leaning against the doorframe, watching.

But not afraid, no, there's nothing to hint at fear in her intense gaze. Long, dark hair pulled up and tied in loose updo, arms crossed tight over her chest, and mouth set into a firm line. And still she appears to be more curious, or concerned, than fearful; perhaps a bit heedful, but that's as far as it goes.

The man, surprisingly, seemed much more on guard than his counterpart. To be fair, and give the poor guy some credit, he was the one tasked with coming closer to Phil. And Phil, in all honesty, was not of the.. low-risk variety.

Not that the two would know that, all identifying parts of his uniform were either torn or stained, but it's always safer to be wary of strangers. And given Phil's appearance—dirtied, bloody, and cowering like a caged animal ready to strike at any given moment—he obviously wasn't just some random guy who they'd stumbled upon.

Come to think of it, Phil wondered what they thought had happened to him, or why he was out there—wherever he was when they found him—in the first place.

Beyond that, who were these people? Why did they bring him here, why not just leave him, a complete stranger and possible danger, where they'd found him instead of risking their lives carrying Phil to their home? At least they'd been smart enough to check him for weapons, for their sake.

Which begs the question; were these people just plain stupid, or did they trust enough in their own abilities to put him down if need be?

“So,” the man begins, now within a few feet of where Phil sits. Spine straight, chin lifted, and arms crossed much like his partner; posture firm, aiming to appear confident. “You military?”

Oh, what could have possibly given that away?

“Sorta.” Comes Phil's stilted reply.

To Phil's great unsettlement, the man smiles. Only a tiny thing, a barely twitch at the corner of his mouth before it's gone.

“Where am I?”

The man hesitates, and the woman chimes in with a few uttered words of Spanish again.

“Not too far from the border, a few hours most.” when Phil doesn't respond, the man continues. “Name's Eric and this,” he tips his head slightly in the woman's direction. “Is my wife, Sofia. We have.. decided to help you back onto your feet.”

Another murmur, then Eric corrects with an, “if you want.”

Lovely. Now it didn't sound as much like he was being held hostage.

“Y'all want to.. help me?” Phil asks, skeptical as he flicks his gaze between the two. Trying to decipher any double meaning, any sort of threat veiled under these too-good-to-be-true words. “...And why would you do that?”

“My wife was a field medic, and me a soldier,” he begins. “We know what a person looks like wounded.. not only physically.”

Oh, so they wanted to be some sort of great savior or some shit? Give Phil some weird form of therapy? He didn't need that, he didn't need anyone's pity. Especially not these strangers who knew absolutely nothing about him.

Eric must sense something off about him, because he immediately rushes to continue. “Like it or not, we are your best option. You go out there? Try to get home in the state you are in? You will die before the sun sets.”

Phil wasn't quite sure he'd be opposed to that.. but the man had a point. He couldn't seek his revenge if he were dead, now could he?

“I won't stay long.” Phil asserts, sitting up a bit straighter with a challenging glint in his eye.

“Of course not,” Eric agrees easily. “Just until you are better. Maybe a few days, yes?”

Phil shouldn't, he should get up, tell these people to go fuck themselves, and get as far away as he possibly can. Even if that means, come morning, he’ll have succumbed to the elements- “Okay.”

“Okay.” Eric offers a smile and Phil isn't quite in his right mind, but he swears that man, this complete stranger, has some of the kindest eyes he's ever seen.

A few days turns into a month, and a single month becomes four. Phil learns a lot about the couple he's been staying with.

Learns that Eric was telling the truth and that they both had met in the field; apparently the man had been outright refusing treatment so that his fellow soldiers could get it first, claiming it to be nothing more than a light scrap. According to Sofia—from what little Phil could gather with the language barrier; though narrowed eyes and flailing hands are pretty damn telling no matter the language, Phil supposed—it was most likely a lot worse than Eric let on.

Only when Eric had conceded and pulled down the collar of his shirt to expose the long, jagged scar that began at just below his collar bones then traveled further, larger than the tugged down fabric could show, did Sophia give a satisfied hum. And Phil could tell from the gentle way she looked at Eric as he spoke, this woman wholeheartedly adored that man—he had to look away after a moment, feeling out of place, like Phil was intruding on something not meant for his eyes.

Phil also learns that the couple is very active in their little community, often volunteering for social events and making whatever donations they could to the local church, and more specifically the program involved directly in helping children in need.

The two had discovered many years ago, after they left the service, that neither were capable of having children. And while it did put a strain on their relationship for some time, the couple loved each other too much to let that fact tear them apart. Instead, they dedicated their time and whatever leftover funds they had into helping provide for the few orphaned kids in the area.

They even had some adopted children of their own, ones now grown and dispersed around the country; attending college and creating families of their own.

At some point, Phil had been baffled by how utterly good these people were, he couldn't believe how lucky he had been to be found by such genuinely kind people, ones who knew nothing of him or his crimes. They would hate him, surely, either cast him aside or turn him in to local authorities. Who would then hand him over to federal.

He was a criminal on the run, something that had taken Phil a while to come to terms with.

A thing he had realized on the very same porch steps he was setting on right now in month two. Eyes on the horizon as the hot, late spring sun faded in an array of nostalgic warm tones of red and orange, of yellow and pink. Dressed in clothing a few sizes too big; the ones he'd donned when he had arrived far beyond salvageable.

A small, child sized soccer ball rolls to his feet. Bumping against the toe of his boot, quickly followed by little feet stomping over to where Phil sat. Picking it up, Phil cradled the ball in his palm, offering it to the boy running over to him with a soft smile.

One of the orphaned kids; has a sister only a year younger than himself, something Phil knows not because the couple told him, but because he'd started doing some volunteer work himself—with Eric and Sophia’s encouragement. It helped keep his mind wonderfully empty, able to concentrate on the now rather than past or inevitable future.

It also helped remind Phil why he'd even joined the military in the first place, what his younger self had aspired to be all those years ago.

Phil had been able to reflect on a lot over these past seven months. Given the opportunity to think on why he did what he did, who he wanted to be. And, most importantly, you.

After months upon months of denial, cursing your name before he went to bed each night. Reminded of you by the absence of a warm body curled up behind his own; the lack of a soft, rumbling voice murmuring a sleepy goodnight before you'd fall asleep with your face tucked away in the place between Phil's neck and shoulder. The gentle puffs of your breath ghosting over his skin and the secure weight of an arm draped over his waist, luring him to join you in the depths of dream land.

Always making him feel so warm, so safe, in that perfect in between, just after the sun set and right before it rose again. For a few hours you were his. For a few fleeting hours he had you all to himself; he had someone.

Someone more than the names of all the men he'd killed, ingrained permanently in his psyche no matter how hard he tried to ignore it; something more than a pen and himself up against stack after stack of paperwork containing nothing but political bullshit Phil couldn't care less about.

For that brief time Phil had belonged.

But now.. now he had nothing.

He wasn't a commander here, wasn't a soldier. Phil didn't have the responsibilities he'd had to manage back home at base anymore. He should probably be grateful, it was a stressful life.

But.. but he still wasn't quite.. anybody. He was nothing but the stranger who'd appeared in town out of nowhere. Who was silent and kept to himself, who barely even left the residence he'd been so lucky to be offered a place in. Not unless he was doing some volunteer work here and there.

He had nothing; he was nothing. Phil used to hold the reins of dozens who'd act solely with his interests at heart, and now he didn't even have an army to command. He wasn't anyone anymore. Not here.

At least, if he went back, he'd have something. Something more than this endless repetition of kindness he didn't deserve. You'd hate him, surely, after what he had done.

To you, to your friends, family, fellow soldiers. Phil was supposed to be a leader, someone who those under his command looked to for guidance. Someone dependable, someone trustworthy.

It was, again, sometime ago on these same steps, where Phil had the grand revelation that maybe, just maybe, you hadn't betrayed him. You were just doing what you thought was best for yourself and the rest of the company. It was in everyone's best interest—except his.

Phil had pushed you too far, stretched you too thin. Even though he knew how fragile delicate vulnerable-

Even though he knew damn well how you used to be, the cavernous depths of your own mind Phil had single-handedly had to drag you out of kicking and screaming several times over.

Phil knew all of this, and yet he still did it. Never considered the consequences his actions would have on you—or the others, but you were more important—, never stopped to consider your own feelings on, well, anything. On what your opinions were for improving the company—even though you two had built it up from the ground up, together—, or what applications to accept, or whatever it was that you two had going on that was surely more than friends and co-founders did with each other.

He'd pushed and pushed and pushed- and Phil had broken you.

Snapped you in two.

So, at the very least, if he went back, Phil would have someone to hate him. Anything from you was better than being nothing. Even if it were hatred; he just needed to be someone again.

Just needed to belong.

“You can't stay here.”

Phil turns his head slowly, the sun now barely a sliver as darkness overtakes the sky. Stars begin to join the moon in illuminating the town.

“I'm sorry?” He asks, spotting Eric standing on the porch behind him. A somber sort of expression painting his features.

Eric sighs, rocking on his feet briefly as his hands move to tuck into his pockets, seeking warmth as the lack of sunlight drops the temperature by several dozen degrees.

“I don't mean- I am not kicking you out,” the man clarifies, looking off into the distance. A bittersweet smile gracing his lips. “But you are not happy here, are you?”

It's a rhetorical question, and Phil, too, turns away, looking back towards the sky, mouth pressed into a thin line. The sun had disappeared completely, and Phil instead looked to the moon.

Now a completely different phase from that fateful day where you'd abandoned left him against that log. So long ago, and yet Phil swore he could still smell the smoke burning his nostrils and scorching his throat.

He was lucky to have not borne many scars from being trapped in that tank; he didn't want to know how you'd fared.

“You miss them.”

“What?” The words break Phil out of his trance, brows furrowing, but he doesn't turn back around.

“I don't know if it is a family or something else,” Eric continues. “But you miss them. This is not the life for you; you still carry that.. spirit I only remember having during my time in the army.”

“I can't go back.”

“Because you think they will not take you?”

“I,” Phil barks a hushed, humorless laugh. More of an exhale of air than everything, bitter and leaving a foul taste on his tongue. “I do not belong with them anymore, sir. They don't want me, I can promise you that.”

“So grown,” Eric chides, coming to sit on the same step Phil was on. “And yet still so damn naive.”

It's not cruel, but it does have Phil opening his mouth in protest, only to snap it back shut again with a huff.

“You don't know what you're talking about.” He grits out, mouth forming a small pout, an ache of something opening up in his ribcage. A void, once full, overflowing, almost, but now so, so empty. Starving.

“Did you even consider, maybe,” Eric continues on with the same patience he'd had all those months ago. “..they miss you, too?”

Phil swears his heart stops just then, slow, stuttering to a halt before ba dum.. ba dum.. it gradually starts back up again. A frog leaped, lodging itself in his throat, suffocating him, echoing the beat of his heart.

Eventually, he manages to croak out, “They don't.”

“And how can you be so sure?”

And Phil doesn't have anything to say to that, so he doesn't. Continuing to gaze up at the moon as if it held all the answers to his problems. Wondering if, maybe, you were looking up at it too.

“I will not pretend to know what you are going through,” Eric hesitates. “What you are running from. But.. but you cannot stay here, it's killing you. Sophia and I can both see it.”

“With all due respect, sir,” Phil forces out. “you don't understand. He is stubborn, he is childish, and he is- he was. You wouldn't understand.”

“You are talking about this man like he's dead,” observant, are we? “And yet he is not, is he?”

You may as well be. “No.”

“Then maybe it's not too late.. maybe..”

Phil could feel hope sparking in his chest at the man's words, and he immediately crushed it between his fists.

“It is.” Phil says, swallowing against the lump in his throat. “It is too late.”

A sigh. “But you're right. I can't stay.”

The distant sound of a coyotes’ howl and the rustling of leaves fills the space between them as the conversation lulls to a stop. It's peaceful out here, much more so than any base Phil's stayed on, and even before that, far quieter than a house full of gentle chatter wafting in from the living room, or the sounds of childish glee from his sister's bedroom when she had a few friends over. Drifting down through thin but sturdy walls; both a perfect ambiance to listen to while he did his homework at the dining table.

Nothing compared to the heartwarming sound of your laughter. Of your soft, rumbling voice; always so quiet, even when just chatting in his office or while overseeing the Shadows honing their skills in the courtyard.

Quieter than his family, but louder than the silence between you two when you would give him the cold shoulder; a sea of rage hidden neatly within a show of blank stares and empty words.

He misses you.

You didn't do anything wrong.

Why did he break you? When did he break you?

Was it just the incident all those months ago? When he'd forced you to shoot down people who, just the day before, Phil had told you to treat like family? Like brothers?

Or was it something far before that? Something you had been holding on to all this time; keeping caged within your heart instead of taking it out in him.

He wishes you had taken it out on him. Maybe then he wouldn't be considered KIA by his own people, men and women and all alike, whom he—and you—had practically raised as his own?

Anyone who tried to proclaim that Phillip Graves didn't care about his soldiers, his Shadows, was just flat out wrong. A piece of his heart, of his soul, had been ripped out of him when one of his squads died in that botched mission Shepard had sent them on. Ambushed by Russian PMCs. Now that had been one very dreaded set of paperwork; writing down the names and cause of deaths for people who he knew, his friends.

He hadn't even been able to tell their families what had happened to them when they came knocking on his door. No closure for any of those grieving relatives, phone calls day and night. Endless sobs and askings of why, why can't you? And my baby gave their life for your cause, but you can't even do me the honor of explaining why they're buried halfway across the world instead of with their family?

“Where will you go?” Phil had been so lost in thought, he'd entirely forgotten Eric was still beside him. Five months ago and that would've never even been a possibility.

He was losing his touch. Would he even be useful back home?

After all these months, surely not.

When the silence drags on a little too long to be comfortable, Phil murmurs a delicate, “I don't know..” then, “maybe I'll go back after all.”

Phil does, in fact, not go back.

Instead he finds himself staying at an apartment complex just a few cities away. Like a coward.

Phil had left that night, before the sun rose again, and without saying goodbye to the couple who'd let him stay with them for a little over four months. He's only left a little note as thanks.

Also, like a coward.

But Phil decided to embrace this sort of cowardice, at least for now. It's not that he couldn't just go over to the ol’ base, pop in and say hello to the people whose lives he had ruined- of course he could!

He could do it right now if he wanted. He didn't want to.

Phil could just pack up his shit—it had been fairly easy to retrieve his emergency fund, held in one of the many banks he had an account or two with; for security, of course—and skip over to that familiar town, take a few turns down some back roads and bam! Back home he would be.

Back home.

…

..would it still be home?

What if his Shadows hated him now? What if you'd turned them against him? Couldn't even stand the sight of him? Would they kill him then and there upon first sight?

Or would they detain him, torture him maybe?

Either way, Phil couldn't risk it. It's been a few weeks since he left Sophia and Eric's residence, and he's no more motivated to go back to you his old stomping grounds today than he was all those months ago.

He can't imagine which would be worse; seeing that look of disgust, of simmering hatred in the Shadows’ eyes or your own.

Phil tries to keep his mind blissfully blank every moment of his waking hours. Preferring more to spend his time sleeping, but when he could not do so anymore, when his legs ached with the need to move and his stomach rioted in the name of it's hunger, he would have to get up.

Reading, listening to a radio, sometimes even adding the background noise of the old TV in the corner of the living room whenever Phil needed to complete a simple task such as eating or another.

As of right now, he was doing just that. Only this time.. this time it doesn't work. Swirling around the remaining bits of cereal in the now sweetened milk, gaze drifting up from the little floating pieces to the window before him instead.

Thinking. Thinking of you. Because there wasn't any time where Phil wasn't thinking of you. Even with all these distracts, meant to keep his mind off his old life, off what he used to have, off you.

It didn't work. Not when it came to you.

Wondering what you could be up to right now. How you were faring commanding an entire army of your own—or however many were left—, how you were handling all the politics that came with such a job.

When you two shared ownership, Phil was always the one to handle the people, scheduling meetings and dealing with generals and such.

It's been months, surely you were handling this fine on your own. You didn't need him, there was no reason for Phil to go back. Nothing more than his own selfish reasons.

A little over ten months now, it has been. Phil shouldn't bother you. You were dealing with it perfectly fine, he'd bet.

There was not a single excuse for him to assume you didn't have everything under control, for him to swoop in like some sort of savior.

Sure, you'd always been a bit.. off kilter. But who wasn't in this line of work.. right? It was only to he expected after what you had been through, or what little you had told Phil.

He knew you didn't like crowds, didn't even like talking for that matter, hated interacting with the stuck up higher ups most of all, of course. Everyone did. But Phil knew you could also reign yourself in if need be.

Well, that was unless something threw you off center. It would have to be something huge, something life-changing for you to really-

Oh, fuck.

The metallic crash of his spoon bouncing off the ceramic bowl and clattering against the floor doesn't even register in Phil's mind. Not even the sweet milk that goes splattering everywhere pulls him away.

He'd broken you. He'd left you alone. Left you alone with her.

Fuck staying here, lying to himself and avoiding any and all subjects that reminded him of you. Reminded him of what he had lost.

Maybe if the event almost a year ago had never happened, and even if Phil had still been removed from your day to day, it wouldn't have been a possibility.

But you were broken. Shattered. Vulnerable.

And for someone like you; that was a concoction that spelled nothing but bad decisions.

Phil left a few hours later. A single stuffed backpack and a rental car all he took with him in his haste.

He hoped he wasn't too late. Hoped he hadn't broken you too much.

Maybe you were able to resist her offer.. maybe there was still a part of you left that knew it would bring nothing but your own destruction.

Maybe.

Standing before you now, with those empty eyes and stiff posture, Phil knew something was off. More than he had assumed before. Sure, he knew you were a bit fucked, had always been a bit fractured, but Phil had cared for you all the same. Knew there was something more to you beyond that rough, off-putting exterior.

But now, the way you covered yourself head to toe, the little twitches and fidgets you tried so hard to conceal—but Phil had been able to identify them then, and he still could now—, now it was obvious. There was no hiding it.

“You're..” Phil begins, hesitant. “Different.”

You scoff, something in those clouded depths flickering. “You've said that before.”

“No, no, Phantom-” he winces, noting the way the name has your right hand—concealed in a glaringly different glove than the other—twitches, fingers curling slightly in one, quick movement, at the name. Your head ticking a bit to the left.

“You are.. not yourself.”

“Is that all you had to say?” You grit out, gaze narrowed, voice more a growl than the gentle rumble Phil was used to. “You called me down ‘ere again to tell me I'm “different”. As if it hasn't been almost an entire fucking year since you last saw me.”

A step closer, another fidget. “People change, Graves. Just because you can't, too caught up in your own damn ego to care, doesn't mean others don't.”

Phil can think back on that little insult later, pick another time to lick his wounds. Right now he needed to know. Needed a confirmation.

“Just tell me-” he doesn't care if he sounds like he's begging. He needs to know. “You told her no. Please, for Christ's sake, tell me you said no.”

Phil can hear the way your breathing hitches briefly, see the way you try to shift your posture impossibly straighter. “I don't know who you are referring to.”

A part of Phil shrivels up and dies in that moment, frozen in time as you basically confirm what he already knew. What he knew and yet so desperately hoped he was wrong about. Hoped and prayed you'd be strong enough.

He was wrong.

“Oh, Phantom,” He breathes, right when his body kicks back into motion again. Unable to hide the pure, unfiltered grief in his croaked out words. “What.. what have you done?”

Phil never gets to hear your reply, because right then there's a frantic knocking at the door. Panicked or enthused, Phil cannot decipher.

It catches you both off guard, heads snapping to the person who hurts through the entrance. Not bothering to wait for an okay to come inside.

“Alik? What the fuck are you doing here?” You snap, glaring at the newcomer.

1-5 comes to a halt right in front of you, breathing heavily from the exerting of running from wherever the hell he'd come from. Phil feels himself stiffening, waiting for something, anything to happen.

“Sorry, sir,” Alik pants. “But this couldn't wait.”

“Spit it out.” Phil cuts in, seeing how you tense and ready to go on one of your rare—or maybe not rare anymore—tangents.

1-5 barely spares Phil a glance before locking eyes with you once more, unflinching.

“Viper,” he says, chest still heaving. A single word, a single word that bore so much weight within its five letters. “He is awake.”

@cptg00s3 @ruthgrimxiao @20nerd04-blog @gloma08 @mikahrh @in-down @hauntedapplefarm @mello-life69 @unkn0wnd3ad @tayaisback @starre-eyes @gabbvr-dog @suhmie @lazyrel @spiritzofthedead @yeonpm @its-ares @k1ssesofdeath @ravagerdogz @embry-garrick @the-spartan-himself @justacreamcheesesandwich

If you want to be added to the tag list, or removed, let me know in the comments!

#this man is so in love w reader its unreal #wasnt my intent in the beginning #but it wrote itself #call of duty #cod x male reader #male reader #call of duty x male reader #call of duty x reader #reader insert #gay #phillip graves x male reader #graves x male reader #phillip graves

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kheprriverse · 11 months

Text

Look familiar? Bounty Hunter and magic user turned Deity, Ko'jin. Later dubbed as the "Fierce Deity."

Other outfits are a wip. I was gonna wait until they were done but couldn't resist sharing what I was working on for a week.

Masterpost | Lineup | Ko-fi - More info under the cut! This one’s gonna be a pretty long one and the last half below will have the text on the image (coz tumblr’s probably gonna eat the quality) plus some notes sprinkled in.

Plus a look at the Moon Serpent, a common form Ko'jin takes. I'd like to think the Moon Serpent is more commonly known by his followers than the man himself. There are others he takes, like the Silver Wolf, but the dragon is the one most associated with him.

He's relatively unknown after the war before Skyloft's ascent, his image having been completely removed from history. The few traces of him by OOT/MM would be oral tradition, specifically through family members as bedtime stories and legends to tell. Stories about a curious serpent and a powerful artifact.

After the events of MM, the Moon Serpent becomes active again and the festivals dedicated to it return.

Text on the image + extra notes:

Ko’jin, Bounty hunter chosen by Goddess Farore.

“Ko’jin” is not his real name. Once a mortal becomes a god, they abandon their original name. He was never given a proper one again aside from nicknames by worshippers and other deities. Ko’jin is a nickname given to him by his future wife when they first met.

He wears facepaint which is mixed with magic to bolster strength and speed. And later he would get tattoos that did the same [seen later].

Before becoming a god he was a bounty hunter [and popular at that, often being the favorite of a neighboring town]. He would take commission to hunt down monsters many others refused to go near.

Ko’jin has a strong affinity for magic [he uses it practically every day] and often imbues the edges of his sword with darkness magic. Though, the element given to his sword can still vary depending on what or who he’s fighting.

His undersuit and white tunic are much more protective than the brass chainmail, which instead is used more for artistic liberty than function.

“Early Days Moon Serpent”

Ko’jin’s god form was often a dragon for the ease of guiding lost spirits to the afterlife [he’s a judgement god with a very strong connection to the dead and guiding those spirits became his secondary function].

[During the first war with Demise] Soldiers often saw this form as the “Spirit of Courage” and their protector. They worshipped him and gave him gifts in hopes that he’d watch over him [and guide them to a better afterlife if they were to fall in battle (that secondary function). He basically became a huge symbol for soldiers specifically and I feel like this would feed the “War God” title he was given way later on despite not actually being a War God.]

In many ancient artifacts [ones that could be found at least], the Moon Serpent would be as either a two-headed serpent or two separate beings with their horns crossed. [There’s going to be a lot of “two’s” with him. Two swords, two lives, etc. in depictions of him the two heads/bodies of the serpent would be called “the Body” and “the Spirit”. Later on he’s split into two to be sealed away in a similar theme. “Two lives” refers to the before and after his sealing as he loses his memory of his “past life” and becomes a new person (hence a different appearance). I can see Hylia having foresaw a lot of this tbh.]

#legend of zelda #legend of zelda au #loz #loz au #majora's mask #Fierce Diety #fierce deity/fd/terminus #Ko'jin (Kheprriverse)#Moon Serpent (Kheprriverse)#sorry thus is a rEALLY long post. i have a lot to say about this man #originally i wasnt gonna go into his backstory at all. maybe a little bit about the war?#but ultimately decided that maaaaaaaaybe we can look a little into him for a bit #i have reasons why i didnt go with ‘Kishin’ as a name. sorry manga readers #also a peak @ termina’s language? its still a wip tho #ignore my extremely jumbled thoughts #i’ll reblog with closeups in a minute #Kheprriart

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heloflor · 2 months

Text

So this was supposed to be part of my other fop post but it got way too long (both posts did tbh) and is a different topic than the other one. So yeah here’s a bunch of random thoughts about the show in general from what I’ve seen of it. For context I’ve only seen the first 4-5 episodes + “Battle of the Dimmsonian” + the Cosmo-Wanda-Peri scenes in “Lost in Fairy World” and “Operation: Birthday Takeback”.

SPOILERS for “Operation: Birthday Takeback” for the last three dashes (2.4k words below):

- Putting it in first since it’s still related to Peri but I’m pretty amused by the whole “Tumblr sexyman” situation. I mean, less than two weeks ago all canon pics we had of him were baby pics. It’s the same deal when I see people call him a father figure to Dev, I can’t help but be like “wdym father figure? He’s barely an adult! He’s too young!”

It’s like imagine you have a neighbor who have a baby when you’re 9-10, then they move out and 20 years later you meet their kid as an adult. You can clearly tell they’re an adult and treat them as such but also it’s a bit weird bc your last and only memories of them were of a baby. Idk, I see Peri’s character as an adult but also he’s still a bit of a kid, you know? I feel like I explain this better in the other post tbh.

- In retrospect it’s also very funny to see how, when people talk about the decline of fop, they point at the inclusion of the new characters, including Poof. Yet look where we are now! If you thought the baby was the problem, apologize to him, now! /j

But yeah more seriously, personally I never minded Poof. He was definitely a useless addition, like outside of the handful of episodes focused on him he mostly just stands there looking at the other characters, but he was also a cute baby, so I’ve always been fine with him being around. He’s a useless but inoffensive addition, and I think the decline of the show around that time had less to do with him and more to do with the writing as a whole.

- Last thing about Peri before moving on to the show in general, which tbh I could've put in the other post: I've seen people talk about the idea of Hazel and Dev switching fairies and I kind of agree with it.

Not only because Cosmo and Wanda have the experience needed to help a kid like Dev (though it wouldn't be all sunshine and rainbows) while Hazel's situation is easier for Peri, but also it's worth noting that Dev needs a parental figure, which Cosmo and Wanda can be, while Hazel misses her older brother, who Peri is around the same age of. Idk, I feel like this could work, or at least make things easier for everyone involved (but also especially for Dev).

- Something I originally wanted to put in the tags of the other post but fuck it: I’m really not a fan of them releasing the episodes so soon one after the other. With serialized shows, I’m always been more of a fan of having an episode a week you can chew on and theorize about, rather than being given everything at once. Also it takes a while for the cargo to get on the ships if you catch my drift.

I’d also complain about seeing all those plot-related episodes one after the other with none of the more casual stories in-between that give us more character moments, but honestly that’s on me for looking up spoilers.

- Going to the early show, I think the first episode is such a good introduction! I especially like the amount of focus on Cosmo and Wanda, it’s good to have them reintroduced given how flanderized they became in the og show. I’m especially happy with Cosmo! He arguably had it worse than Wanda in the og and it’s so good to see him shine this much in this first episode (also I love his human form having a bit of a gut)! On that note, they did a fantastic job having them around a lot while still giving Hazel enough time to be introduced properly and get us to care about her as the MC!

But yeah I really like this first episode, fantastic beginning to the show! The only issue I “really” have with it is the way Cosmo and Wanda go back to being godparents just because Hazel made a strong enough wish or something, it felt a bit arbitrary rather than them just telling her who they are.

And on that note, big fan of that one scene where they immediately notice her trying to run away and try to talk her out of it. I love the contrast between them starting off as disasters being barely capable of passing off as humans at the beginning of the episode, and them being perfectly in their element the second they start talking to Hazel about her running away in this scene. It’s such a good way to see how much experience they have with taking care of kids!

- I’m not going to go episode by episode but one thing that bothers me a lot in the second one is that rule of “kids should get whatever they wish for”. Doesn’t that...go against the whole concept of having rules in the first place???

They should’ve replaced it with something along the lines of “a kid should always get the fairy that fits them the best”, not only bc it would work perfectly well for the episode, but also from what I’ve heard Foop (now Irep) is coming back and I could 100% see him use that rule to his advantage given Peri and Dev were such a bad match (I’m guessing anti-fairies don’t actually follow Da Rules but maybe they could still use it as an excuse regardless since fairies do have to follow them or something?)

- Call we talk about the fact Hazel is clearly autistic? Like is this a canon thing in the show? Are there people out there talking about it? No because seriously:

The fidget toys (Cosmo and Wanda’s disguises), her special interest for rocks, her anxiety over making new friends which is reinforced as uncommon when that one girl she befriends comments on how easy and not scary it is to approach other people (also Hazel’s “what am I supposed to talk about with them? School lunches?” comment in the teachers friend episode), her liking for fries which could be seen as her being potentially picky (bit of a stretch tho), her comment about liking the DMV if only for the reaction she gets that makes her seem “different”, her struggles to come up with a wish on the fly with minimal/vague instructions (episode 2), her character arc throughout the show apparently having to do with her not wanting things to change (me too girl), her being considered mature for her age, the angry outbursts when things don’t go how she hoped, pretty sure there’s also a lot of stimming that I have yet to pick up on (see if any of them repeat often). Like, there’s no way ALL of that was a coincidence!

I’d also like to mention at the beginning of the Dino episode, when her dad is explaining things to her, he starts talking louder and louder in excitement until his wife tells him to quiet down. Makes me think her dad’s likely neurodivergent as well. Also this moment hurts my soul a bit, as someone who’s both been on the receiving end of it and done it to someone else, in both cases it sucks.: /

- Took me until like episode 4 to realize the town she lives in is named after the Dimmadomes, with the hat in it (the very first shot of the intro). Also you can see their infinite house in the background, both in that shot and the show in general, and I absolutely adore that they committed so hard to this joke! That giant ambiguously-shaped-like-a-hat skyscraper that we never see the top of is just *chief kiss*.

- On that note Dev’s introduction in the first episode made me laugh, if only for the references. I also find it kinda funny he has such a big speaking role considering he doesn’t do anything for the rest of the pilot and the next few episodes. Then again I guess it’s in character for him to make such a show of introducing himself.

- Still on general stuff, I’m a bit curious about how the timeline went in regards to Cosmo and Wanda retiring and going on vacation “right after” Timmy (iirc they don’t voice it like that in the show). Like I’m having a hard time believing they would just ditch their then-child son to go on vacation, and then come back when he’s an adult. So I ended up having a bunch of headcanons.

Basically, after leaving Timmy they do take what was supposed to be a short leave to think of their future since it feels strange to get a new kid after so long with the same one + I like the idea that Cosmo and Wanda’s marriage did suffer while living with Timmy and they want to work on it before getting a new kid (the whole thing about them feeling confined, made worse if the “stopping time for 50 years” wish is canon) + Poof/Peri is struggling with the reality of having to leave Timmy behind and is nervous about his parents having a new godkid because of it.

Eventually they decide to retire, got to marriage counseling, possibly get Poof/Peri into therapy, and raise their son until he’s an older teen/young adult, at which point they leave for their vacation. And while the vacation is 10 thousand years for them, it’s like, 5 years at max in their present. And in that meantime, Peri starts his godparents studies (or however it works), leaves the house and changes his name.

Btw Cosmo and Wanda would 100% invite him to the vacation, he’d just refuse in a mix between wanting to be away from his parents for once, wanting to maybe surprise them a bit with his work and/or just get started with work, and not knowing how long the vacation would be. He’d also probably tell them to just use this time as some new honeymoon to finish rebuilding their marriage (though by that point it must’ve gone back to being strong). Oh and Cosmo and Wanda would send Peri postcards every so often, which would also let him know how long they’ve been gone.

Once they come back from vacation, I’d imagine there’s like less than a month between them “moving to the human world” and meeting Hazel, hence why they didn’t reconnect with Peri. They didn’t really know how to contact him and were busy with the move, and afterwards they had a godkid to take care of so they couldn’t exactly go back to Fairyworld.

As for Peri, he hears through the gravepine that his parents are back, and would be happy until he realizes they’ve been gone for 10 thousand years, hence him freaking out about meeting them again (he doesn’t know how much they might’ve changed with how long it’s been). Also he can’t contact them bc he’d hear about them coming back due to them taking in Hazel, meaning they’re in the human world and he doesn’t know where. Also he might be intimidated to contact them, which doesn’t help his decision-making.

So yeah, that’s all for how I could imagine this whole vacation thing going and how it fits with them having a child.

- Since I’m talking about Cosmo and Wanda’s marriage, I’ve heard about the whole “they fixed their marriage” before watching the show and oh my god I can’t get over how fucking adorable those two are in this show!!! I fucking love them.

- And on that note I’m incredibly amused that this show had the balls to reference the mpreg. Twice. Especially since it doesn’t even specify the whole “that’s just how fairies work”! In the eyes of people who never watched the og show, “A New Wish” just casually dropped the fact that Cosmo’s a trans man (bc let’s be real, how else are you supposed to interpret those lines if you haven’t watched the og show?) or you get the vibe that the writers wanted to make him trans (+ Wanda by proxy since she’s Peri’s bio mom) but weren’t allowed so that’s how they got past the censors.

And I love this because you just know Hartman would be furious about it! With our current society more aware of trans people and how men can in fact get pregnant, I could definitely see him sweep the whole mpreg thing under the rug, hoping people would forget about his “”accidentally-progressive”” (and also very sexist 😒) episode, but nope! New show said Cosmo was pregnant and gave birth! And better yet it didn’t even elaborate further! It just goes “btw this guy has an uterus and was once pregnant, here’s his bio child if you need more proof” and then walks on like nothing happened, I love it!

- Going back to the episodes talk for the last three dashes, there’s that shot at the very end of “Operation: Birthday Takeback” that I really dislike. It’s the one when Dev lashes out on Peri, with him hovering over Peri who’s laying on the ground in fear.

Really not a big fan of this shot bc 1. It makes Dev look way too much like a villain, especially with the way Peri’s laying like a servant that gets beaten up, and 2. Peri, honey, you’re a grown ass man; why are you so scared of that 10 years old scarred kid that’s lashing out while in a very vulnerable mental state? What are you doing on the ground buddy? I’m not asking for him to fight back but at least stand up! Don’t act like that kid can actually hurt you! Btw I’m completely fine with Peri afterwards looking like a dejected puppy (after Dev makes his wish), it’s just that one shot with him on the ground that I dislike.

- Obviously I’m genuinely curious to see how things are going to go in the next episodes (which apparently air tonight?). Like obviously Dev is going to spiral but if you have a scene at school how will it go? How will Hazel feel about the whole thing? What about Peri? Is he going to be gone for a few episodes? Be a temporary third fairy to Hazel? Crash at Cosmo and Wanda’s for a while?

(Personally I’m hoping for the third option, it would be a good way to still give him appearances to show the main plot’s still going without giving him to much screentime, which could take away from Hazel. Also given how much he wants to appear independent, I don’t see him being a third fairy to her, though I think he’d be ok with staying at his parents for a bit, if only for emotional support (though tbh I doubt they’ll do that, most likely he’ll be doing his own thing off-screen for an episode or two). Also I want to see a “human” design for him)

OK so I wrote this yesterday before the Irep episode came out, so on one hand nevermind all that but on the other hand I’m letting it in bc I AM curious as to how things are going to evolve with our main cast, especially with Dev spiraling and pushing both his bestie and fairy away.

- Btw is nobody going to talk about how Vicky’s dress might be a reference to one of the “Oh Yeah” shorts?

- VERY LAST SECOND ADDITION, SPOILERS FOR IREP: So yesterday before I finished both this and the other post the new episodes dropped, with a few clips shared on Tumblr. And OH MY GOD IREP’S DESIGN!!! The fact that they kept him as a cube makes me so happy!!! I was HOPING at least ONE part of him would be a cube and they delivered!!! He looks like absolulte dogshit I love it!!! Bc yeah for some reason I remember Foop as a character you’re not supposed to take seriously at all? And as a result I really like how stupid Irep looks. A+ design right there! /gen

#fop #fop a new wish #fop a new wish spoilers #fop spoilers #fairly oddparents a new wish #Flor talks #other works #long post #really enjoying the show so far !

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littlejuicebox · 9 months

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Dancing on my own

Guys I don’t know what this is, it’s just some random angsty drabble that came out inspired by the song “Dancing on My Own” by Robyn (the version by Calum Scott is also nice).

I’m trying to get out of a writing slump so there might be a few more random bits of writing here and there. I’m not sure I even like this tbh lol.

Summary: You and Astarion decided to be just friends after his Moonrise Towers confession. He couldn’t make himself admit to you that he wanted more than that. He knew you deserved better than what he could offer. Now that his quest with Cazador is done, he’s totally lost. He wants you, but you have someone else now; he thinks it’s someone better than him. He’s heartbroken.

Tags/Warnings: PG13, lots of angst, depression, PTSD, low self esteem, depersonalization/derealization, sad Astarion, tbh it’s kinda just a sad bit of drabble

Astarion killed Cazador. You’d think he would’ve been happy… ecstatic, even. But instead he felt exceedingly numb and so, so tired.

It had been nearly a week since then. Astarion had spent most of that time in his room, trancing or simply just lying in the dark. He was exhausted; his limbs felt like lead.

Shadowheart was concerned he had fallen ill and kept checking on him. He would simply grunt to her in response or ignore her line of questioning until she sighed and left.

You came by a few times a day to offer him your wrist; he would drink with a misty-eyed, faraway expression… or sometimes not at all. His hand would linger for a moment on yours, and then he would roll himself the other direction, turning away from you.

It was hard to look at you, to be that close to you, to touch you, to taste you. Blood and sex had been so intertwined in the beginning, it always brought back the memories from before. It made him sick to his stomach.

But his hunger often won, in the end.

How ironic, that the only blood which satisfies his near-insatiable thirst is also the only blood that makes his stomach churn with guilt and disgust at himself.

A double edged sword. Stabbed through his heart.

He should be happy… ecstatic, even. But, by the gods, is he so, so tired. Can a vampire rot into the earth if they stay in one place for too long?

Perhaps. Perhaps he should get up and move, if only to avoid rotting away.

Astarion manages to take a short bath and pull himself together… somewhat. It’s hard to move when your limbs feel like lead. His shirt is wrinkled, and his hair feels like it’s not quite in place, but it will have to do.

The pale elf slinks down to the tavern, where the evening crowd is teetering the hazy line between buzzed and drunk. He’s not in much of a mood for talking to others, so he sits in a corner booth, hoping the natural shadows and his brooding demeanor will deter any visitors. For a few moments he feels normal… or at least acts it. But then he sees you. And Halsin.

Halsin has his arms coiled around you as he absolutely ravages your lips. His thick hands are gripping your body; one hand on your waist, one on your neck. It’s an exceptional amount of PDA; he would vomit, if he had anything left in his stomach from the only small sip he’d taken from you this morning. The hand the druid tenderly placed on your neck is covering the scars Astarion had marked on you from the times before, back when you’d been his. Had you been his? Back before—

“I had a plan. A nice, simple plan…”

“Maybe what you need is a friend, not a lover.”

Astarion had hurt you. He’d hurt you. The look that crossed your face as he confessed is etched into his mind for all eternity; it’s the first thing he sees when he wakes from a trance and the last thing he sees before he slips into one. He’ll never forget the tears that welled in your eyes, which you’d rapidly blinked away. And then you thanked him… thanked him for telling you, for being truthful. Thanked him for hurting you.

He should have lied. He shouldn’t have said anything. He should have chose differently from the start.

He knew what he did was terrible; you deserved something more, something real. He just couldn’t be that. He didn’t know how to be… real.

Hells, was he even real now? Was any of this real?

He felt like a shell. Hollow. Empty. It all felt like a sick, strange dream that he couldn’t wake from. All that time he spent running, and now he no longer had to… but who was he, if not a runner?

He’d run from Cazador. Run from you. Run from the concept of true intimacy, which you had so willingly offered.

But now? Now he wanted nothing more than to run to you. He wanted to run into your arms and be held by you, comforted by you. But there you were in the arms of someone who was able to give you what you deserved.

Who was he to get in the way of that? He was nothing. He was no one.

“Good to see you out of bed.”

The vampire rips his eyes away from you and Halsin, where the two of you seem oblivious to the world and stuck in a heated embrace.

Shadowheart is standing next to the booth; her eyes had followed his, and she’d been watching the same passionate makeout scene with mild interest.

She flicks her gaze back to Astarion with a knowing look, and a soft, sad smile crosses her face. The cleric extends her hand out to him, “Come on, Astarion. One dance and then I will let you slink back into this corner to sulk for the rest of the night, if you wish.”

He sighs and considers the offer. He doesn’t want to move, but he can’t keep picking different places to stay and rot. And he can’t keep watching you two. His limbs still feel like lead.

“Very well.” He murmurs, and he takes Shadowheart’s hand.

They dance. It’s a platonic sort of jig, mostly spinning around at arms length with one another. For a moment, Astarion feels a brief glimmer of happiness. He chuckles and smiles; his limbs don’t feel like lead. And then the tune ends, and he’s wandering back to the booth with Shadowheart, and that sinking feeling begins to grow in his chest once more.

“You should talk to them, you know, Astarion. Let them know how you feel. They may choose differently… if you make your true desires known. You did tell them you wanted to be friends, after all.” The cleric murmurs, with another sad little smile. Her eyes contain pity; he hates that.

He’s watching you and Halsin again, where you two are staring contentedly at one another, chatting away. You’re lost in your own little impenetrable bubble. You don’t even see him or notice him at all.

He’s nothing. He’s no one.

Astarion looks so dejected; normally he would be better at putting on his mask. But he’s so tired. He should be happy. But he’s exhausted.

“Maybe I should. But Tav looks happy… I can’t bring myself to ruin that. Selfish as I am, I do care about them, you know.”

Shadowheart nods and sighs. She knows something, he can tell by the look on her face. She wants to say more but decides against it. A small pat on the vampire’s hand and she murmurs, “Good night, Astarion. I hope to see you down here in the morning.”

Then she’s gone, heading upstairs to her room. And he’s alone again.

Astarion watches you two for a bit longer, even though every second he witnesses causes another crack in his fragile heart. Then his eyes return to the dance floor and he sighs before forcing himself out of the booth again. His limbs feel like lead, but he has to start somewhere.

For now, he’ll have to keep dancing on his own.

#astarion x tav #baulders gate 3 #baulders gate astarion #astarion fanfic #astarion fic #bg3 fanfiction #baulders gate tav #bg3 fanfic idea #astarion x reader #astarion x gn reader #astarion x you #astarion x gn!tav #astarion angst #light angst #angsty

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0m3g4skanohiforge · 28 days

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Well folks, it's been a fair few Mask Mondays since my last post, I just... really haven't had updates to share. Between getting a near full-time job, daily life complications, and of course the 810 event launch, I haven't been able to spend much time developing new colours or making cool effects. Figured I'd take this opportunity for another update, regardless.

I've still got a fair few colours to work on, of which I keep cycling through every so often when I can, because seeing variant shades of the same colour and going "okay this time is gonna be perfect" only to keep getting it wrong gets... pretty tiring. At least the variety is there with how many I have to work on, at the cost of all of them taking that much longer.

Lime is really close though! It's a tiny bit off, still, but close enough that my mom thinks I should count it. Maybe staring at these for so long is making me crazily picky 😄

Purple is... a pain in the ass, tbh. If I had a week of free time, I could get Dark Purple, Medium Lavender, and Lavender for sure, and still be no closer to Classic Purple. It's so different from the rest in how red it is but I haven't yet found a proper balance that doesn't overshoot it wildly.

Orange... y'all remember my Reddish-Orange update? Reddish-Orange is closer than Orange because I just can't seem to get this to saturate well enough while maintaining opacity, and again the camera seems to think both are far off.

Sand Blue and Medium Blue haven't been touched in a while, so I should probably get those going again once these batches for Etsy orders are done, but damn... I spent so much time on Sand Blue and just couldn't land it. Hopefully there's some info I got from the month and a half spent grinding out Silver that can finally get Sand Blue, at least. Medium currently feels closer to Light Azure, which is pretty but not the goal yet.

Not really sure what's been happening with teal, using my old resin it's the first colour I matched but with this new (arguably better) kind I'm either basically green or basically blue.

That all leaves Pearl Gold as the final colour in development. With the least progress currently, I'm hoping simply replacing the silver dyes with gold and whatnot will work for the otherwise same formula as silver, but I'll have to see if my pearling powder is too pale for that. In due time.

Also, I got a second pressure pot! Should have it all set up by the weekend, which will then basically double my output. Twice as many pieces made per day, even if that's just two batches instead of one (with a theoretical max output of 6 batches if I can afford the time and actually keep on schedule). So excited to get this running, and finally see some smoother progress! This wouldn't have been possible without everyone's incredible support, and I hope to have more exciting news soon!

#bionicle #resin casting #kanohi #mask monday #behind the scenes

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real-total-drama-takes · 1 year

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Can you rate the Courtney ships mod courtney? Obviously there’s like a million but the more well known ones (gwen, heather, cody, scott, emma rr, bridgette, etc), i want to see your faves

Ok!

Gwourtney - 10/10 the definition of a yuri situationship. I love gwourtney in that context. Well, and every context. I love gwourtney but it’s so unserious. It’s hard for me to look at gwourtney and think that they’ll last longer than a week bc they have different opinions of eternal sunshine of a spotless mind or some bullshit

Duncney - 10/10 I have a huge soft spot for duncney. I shipped it when tdi was first coming out and i still love it to this day. I have so many thoughts about duncney i could write paragraph after paragraph about it. It was not handled well in canon i will be the first to admit that but i just. I lvoe it. Being 9 and watching the duncney kiss live on tv was just. Ugh. You had to be there ok. I get ppl not shipping it or even liking it bc eugh it gets bad but in a time pre-TDA you have to understand it was 🔛🔝

Heathney - 1000/10 MY FAVORITE!!! heathney solos. Heather and Courtney are just perfect together. They’re both a little evil and I love that for them. They would take over the world. They’ve both got strategy-oriented mindsets and they’re both super critical but in very different ways. Heathney is the best of opposites attract and great minds. Heather and courtney have so much to bond over. I have so much more to say but I don’t want to write a whole book here lol

Scottney - 10/10 scottney is good. I don’t love it though. It really feels like an afterthought in tdas. If there had been real effort into developing their relationship, it could have easily been amazing. I will say I love how so much of tdas is Duncan kissing gwen & being like “DO YOU THINK COURTNEY IS WATCHING?” And Courtney’s too busy dating an idiot ginger who eats dirt.

Bridgney - 10/10 Bridgney my beloved. I’m really big on friends to lovers as a trope. Mutual pining on your best friend is just. Oh god its so good. It’s such a rarepair though and i get it, since a lot of other courtney ships are more “dynamic”. But bridgney is so good. I feel like it’s the ship courtney would feel the most “peaceful” in. And courtney would nudge bridgette out of her comfort zone. And i love that for them.

Emmaney (courtemma?) - ?/10 i like Emma/courtney bc i kin courtney and i have a crush on Emma. I think they would be very competitive in a relationship though and that could easily get out of hand tho. I could easily see them hooking up when they’re in law school lol. I never read Emma/courtney fics tbh if anyone has any recs send me them

Courdy - ???/10 where did courdy come from? Courtney deserves better than cody she’s so slay and hes so cringe

Justney (justin/courtney) - 10/10 honestly I feel like this one is criminally underrated. Justin’s crush on courtney in TDA is really cute. The fact that likes her because she’s a strong competitor & is deeply fascinated by her is just… I really like it. It feels like justin appreciates courtney for who she is and loves how unhinged she could be. In this regard they actually have a lot in common and I think Courtney would really like him if she gave him the time of day lol

Alecourtney - 10/10 another one that’s slept on tbh. I like aleheather dont get me wrong but i could easily see Alejandro falling for Courtney’s completely unhinged side. And when courtney said she’s Alejandro’s “gal” its just. It’s cute ok. Don’t come at me.

If you guys want my opinion on any other courtney ships, send me them! I love talking about courtney and all her girlfriends/boyfriends/etc and I’m a huge multishipper so I love everything

#gwourtney #duncney #heathney #scottney #emmaney #courtemma #courdy #justney #alecourtney #total drama #mod takes #td courtney

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mulders-too-large-shirt · 2 months

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s3 episode 15 thoughts

i’m comfy. i’m cozy. i’m sat. i had a nice relaxing day. i am prepped for this.

(author's note: juni was, in fact, NOT prepared for this episode)

so, reading the episode description here: ANOTHER sunken ww2 craft??? they deal with these A LOT. they need to get an archaeologist on the phone, because they seem to just attract these sorts of things. and you don’t really find them everyday. unless you’re special.

(actually, it turned out to be the same one as before- or at least related to the first one. but my point stands. they are dealing with more war wreckage than you would expect)

we see a boat. they’re speaking french!! why did they call it “deux zéro point huit” instead of “vingt”? okay guess i don’t know a lot of stuff… but i like that a lot better than how the french usually use numbers, because then you could say 1998 a LOT easier… une neuf neuf huit… how easy these things COULD be… alas!

they’re diving!!!! this fellow- gauthier- has a very funny looking scuba suit. it’s bright yellow and very stiff. mobility is probably not ideal. oh, it’s getting darker and darker as he goes deeeep into the water.

they’re detecting radiation from where he's going in? seems worrisome. but it’s the pacific ocean, so who knows what is in there? plenty of nuclear waste, i'm sure.

everyone is very excited to hear that gauthier thinks he found “one from the squadron”. what this squadron is, we do not know. but then they hear a thumping noise and lose contact with the diver.

someone is inside the ship??? someone with very black inky eyes?? damn... mermaids are real?? AND scary?

the diver gauthier comes back up to the surface and says he became disoriented. hmm. that gaze is suspicious… and HIS eyes go inky black too!!

what did y’all do to my boy gauthier...

(cheering loudly as gillian anderson’s name is on the screen during the intro)

fbi time. scully reading a case and walking. she is a pro at reading and not walking into things. a skill that comes with great practice.

skinner opens the door and asks to see her!!! he asks his secretary to leave. oooo, whatever he has to say, it's going to be juicy.

he says a memo came across his desk last night. and it concerns her. AND HER SISTER!!! 5 months in and there have been no leads in her murder investigation. they want to make it inactive and she has a LOT to say with just her face and the words “i see”. she looks both furious and hurt.

but he’s going to appeal it!!! awww nice skinner. and go over the evidence again himself, just in case someone missed something.

NOOOO, i yell out in sadness, as scully stops herself before leaving, visibly upset. she goes on a monologue about how the fbi can seemingly solve any crime but not this one, and there are tears in her eyes and there are tears in MY eyes. but for some reason they can’t figure out this one, even though it took place in a well-lit building and the murderer left the weapon at the crime scene!!! skinner tries to say it’s not about interest, but she says it is, just not hers or his. NOOOO STOP... MY POOR GIRL.

(tbh i’m glad they are addressing melissa's death again, because they haven’t really talked about it since. and i know with the monster of the week episodes you don’t get a ton of time to process these things, but it was HER SISTER. there is no way she could just jump right back into work without some severe emotional trauma. i think in some ways the episode format can do that disservice to their characters, introduce a Very Important Plot Point and then not talk about it again for the in-world equivalent of 5 months during which they act as if everything is fine)

skinner looks really sad too :( noooo, skinner

she goes to mulder’s office and denies that anything is wrong (he can obviously tell that things are wrong) also he’s wearing a different color suit today which is interesting.

today's mystery: he says a ship from france came into port in san diego yesterday, and he tracked its course. it was at the same place they had earlier found the thing she thinks is a russian sub, and he thinks a ufo!!

she looks really upset to hear this :( i think she just doesn’t wanna deal with ufo drama when her sister’s murder is unsolved. and can you blame her?

but anyway, the whole crew from that french expedition is being treated for radiation burns, so he can’t just ask them what is down there

she laughs and says that she is amazed by him (!!!) working down in the basement. she says they’re afraid of his relentlessness. he seems offended that she says they could drop him in the desert and he’d ask for a shovel if the truth was out there, but then he smiles and says that he wants her to come along on to san diego. and he looks like this :D and gives her a plane ticket.

it was very cute. if only they could harness his boundless energy into looking at melissa's case...

scully my darling, look at me. tell him that you are feeling sad because your sister’s murder is being ignored. use your words. LOOK AT ME. tell him how you feel. it’s a long flight. you have time. thank you.

at san diego, the men from the ship are very much burned up. they can’t figure out how to treat them because the french government is hiding everything.

she goes into doctor mode. the doctor at the hospital seems shocked to hear that she is a doctor, but... get used to it? anyway, their symptoms are nearly as bad as the hiroshima victims.

and one man had no symptoms, but he discharged himself this morning. it was gauthier! the man in the yellow scuba suit with the inky eyes!

damn, his house is nice. if it’s his house. seems to be, since he’s on the picture on the wall. but he walks past the ringing phone like he has never seen a ringing phone before.

the agents are rolling up to the ship, where a bunch of people are in hazmat suits, investigating, guarded by soldiers. spooky...

so the guy who is leading this investigation says they found absolutely nothing, and they can go on board. which i would be suspicious of. but mulder lacks self-preservation instincts which has been established and he will go into the boat of evil.

investigating a boat! with a big flashlight! i still don’t like boats. too cramped. way too cramped. mulder finds the big yellow scuba suit. and some sort of inky substance on the helmet… while scary music plays.

scully is looking at a map that says “zeus faber” and i have some ideas on what that means but they could be way off... like deus pater? the vedic god? same roots at zeus?

(insert shane and ryans's "i've connected the two dots" "you didn't connect shit" here because really i was onto nothing)

mulder is searching for the VCR to watch the dive video. oooo he finds it!

and scully takes one look at the mysterious object and announces that it is “a north american p-51 mustang” and i feel my heart skip a few beats.

WELL SO DID MULDER’S??? because he announces to the class that he just got very turned on. BAD! BAD! SPRAYING YOU WITH WATER like a NAUGHTY CAT!! not in front of this random guy!! we say such things in PRIVATE and not to the besties!

(actually i'm so lying because that does sound like something i would say to a bestie... but NOT in front of some random guy. i have couth. i only flirt with the girls when no one else is around. and i was sensing no irony from him, which is slipped into my flirting with friends. we differ, mulder and i)

um. brushing past that.

she used to watch her dad and brothers build model ww2 planes as a kid :,) and that’s why she can recite these facts. it’s just a fighter, wouldn’t have been carrying anything interesting. cool fact time with scully is my favorite time of day!

back to our french king gauthier. he’s searching for something. a woman hugs him and he doesn’t say a word. just looks at her all weird. she’s scared and runs away. but he GRABS her and his eyes go black!!! then she steps out and HER eyes go black!!!! what is going on? and is this thing spreading and also why.

scully goes to see a friend of her father’s, named johansen. there are kids in the road. children, please do not play in front of cars, it’s dangerous. scully does not need a vehicular manslaughter charge at the moment due to your prancing about.

scully’s looking at the kids and remembering her sister and tearing up which is very sad but. she drives on.

mulder at gauthier’s house. no one is answering. careful; you know he will just walk into your house. and he does! he finds the scattered papers allllll over. pretty music is playing. he finds a letter talking about salvage and pockets it. then hears a noise??

and finds an inky gauthier on the ground. who says he doesn’t know what happened. he's freaked out because he doesn’t remember anything beyond the boat, and also his wife is gone. and he won’t answer any questions about the letter from the “salvage broker” (idk what that means but it sounds sus as hell)

OH! scully is at the house of her dad’s friend johansen, and she tells him how she used to live there!!! he doesn’t remember her, but also he is very old so this is understandable. he doesn’t seem to recall anything from her list of clues, but he says that the number on the plane isn’t from a p-51. so what’s the truth.

she goes to leave, and he says to say hi to her father, but she has to tell him he passed away NOOOOOO :(((( but before she leaves she talks about the games she used to play out in the lawn. and asks him to say hi to his son for her. will there be a childhood friendship reunion...?

gauthier’s wife is looking for stuff. in the office of the salvage broker! so she must work with her husband on her shady business deals... she hides things before mulder comes in.

BUT NO!!! she has a gun under her desk, and it’s aimed at him!! nothing happens though, she just takes his business card. and we learn her name is geraldine.

mulder is sitting outside the salvage broker’s office. lurking about. and all of a sudden a bunch of cars come rolling up!! talking loudly in french and running in!! he watches. geraldine leaves in a hurry, and he goes to tail her.

WHAT IS SHE HIDING!

scully’s trying to leave, but the soldiers that guard the entrance tell her she is being detained!!! huh? on what charges?

her dad’s friend johansen gets in the car. he says that his son was killed in the gulf war. and that “we bury our dead alive... they talk to us, they haunt us, they beg us for meaning. conscience, it’s just the voices of the dead, trying to save us from our own damnation" <- woah, banger line, unexpectedly profound from this old man. but, noooo sad man who has endured so much loss... :( banger line but at what cost?

he knows something about that plane that sunk. because he was sent to find it! in a sub called the zeus faber!

geraldine is in the airport. where is she going. hong kong?

anyway, scully calls mulder and shares her findings: she says that plane they're on a quest to find had been carrying an atomic bomb, but it never reached its target. and it doesn’t make sense fully to him or her really- like, why would the guy who was closest to the bomb be the only one who doesn't have radiation burns? but mulder has to go to hong kong sooooo. um. okay.

back in D.C., skinner is waiting at a restaurant whilst some angry looking men approach him. they’re asking about people “obeying his orders”

OH! they’re threatening him to make scully’s sister’s case inactive. because those above him have worked hard to reach that decision. covering up for the antics of cig man and the worsties, i see... nasty nasty nasty!

so scully’s talking to johansen again, who is saying that his squadron back in the day also had burns, and almost everyone had died except for him. they found the sunken squadron and then the burns started. but despite most people in the sub being in the process of dying, the captain wouldn’t leave the area to surface and get help!

the men started fighting, realizing they were going to die, and a gunshot made the japanese aware of their presence. so johansen went against the captain’s orders and took them to the surface. he locked the burned men in with the captain, knowing their fate.

but the captain had the inky eyes!!!! so i guess that is why he didn't want to surface...?

only 7 on that boat of 144 lived, and johansen struggles with the guilt from that. and no one ever explained what actually happened. damn, that's a heavy burden to bear.

hong kong time. eating some tasty looking food. geraldine is here. mulder sits next to her and point blank accuses her of selling government secrets. he's always been a bit bold.

he says he’s gonna arrest her, and she says um you can’t have guns here. so he handcuffs her TO HIMSELF. WILD MOVE! and leads them to an office in the back. for their salvage broker dealership!!!

KRYCEK IS HERE???? MY BELOATHED…

mulder tells him to shoot himself in the head like he shot his father. DAMN! please do not pull any punches with this freak

someone shoots geraldine, who gets shoved behind a door still handcuffed to mulder, and then krycek leaves out a window.

(i think i’ve been spelling his name wrong in the past but hear me out: he’s lucky i call him anything beyond “the rat bastard”)

mulder is still handcuffed to the now shot woman while a hit squad approaches. but he is simply too fast for these fools!!! he freed himself and jumped out the window.

okay... what. i looked down to type that, and geraldine somehow came back. unharmed. flashed a bright white light. and left all of the evil frenchmen who were chasing mulder with burns. huh.

that escalated.

back to skinner. who wants his coffee. and a blue plate. which refers to a special, and not an actual color of plate. the more you know! the waitress takes his order.

but someone is harassing her about the payphone not working! he gets up to intervene. a gentleman.

AND THIS DUDE SHOOTS HIM???

HELLO????? RIGHT IN THE GUT????

scully back at her place. as soon as she walks in the phone rings. NO!! she learns skinner was shot and she’s on her way to the hospital.

back to hong kong. krycek is trying to get out through the airport. but mulder catches him at a payphone and starts beating the hell out of him. MULDER TAKES A GUN OUT and is about TO SHOOT HIM IN THE STOMACH and he says “this is for my father” but then krycek is like “i didn’t do it” bitch boy i SAW you there. in his shower.

he claims that if mulder lets him go, he’ll give him a tape with government secrets that he had been selling. mulder says absolutely not, go get yourself cleaned up and bring me there youself, you have three minutes or i’ll come in and kill you. WHEW! he is not messing around. he has been sentenced to the bathroom to wipe his own blood off of his face.

but who rolls up…. but geraldine!!!! who walks into the men’s room. and chokes him. AND KRYCEK'S EYES GO ALL INKY!!!

TO BE CONTINUED??? WHAT!!!!

why does this keep happening!!! the cliffhangers of it all!!!

okay, i’m not REALLY complaining, because the multipart episodes are usually the best ones, and they address the overall plot. but you THINK you’re going in for a nice relaxing evening and bam, krycek comes back, and now he’s got an alien infection. and maybe he too can glow and leave people with burns, and is being led right back to the place where our beloved agents call home. the power of a nuke, stored in one evil rat guy! what could go wrong???!?!?!? /s

and skinner was shot in the stomach! by a guy that seems to have no connection to all of this. but i doubt it.

(screams for about 45 seconds straight)

okay. SO. we got a lot here. we got french people, possession, angry mulder, dead fathers, nuclear aliens, krycek back, geraldine the undying, the sale of government secrets, hong kong, and scully angst.

now, i am naturally drawn to the scully angst. to the memories of her childhood, to her grappling with the loss of her sister, how something is holding them up from the investigation, and whatever it is that wants to keep her from knowing the truth is willing to kill skinner about it. and somehow krycek is connected, because we SAW him do the killing, but we never learned WHY he did that whole betrayal thing beyond it just seems like something he does.

and krycek. i guess i figured he would come back at some point, but man, i feel even more revulsion at his current state now that he has ditched his pretty boy aesthetic for something that is more akin to a guy who started smoking cigarettes and listening to vinyls to make women think he's suffering deeply in an artistic fashion, but really he's just shallow, has no thoughts of his own, and is speedrunning cancer.

what the hell was he doing in hong kong? how is he getting access to these government secrets if he went AWOL?

ugh. i hate him. love to see an angry mulder, though.

skinner... in the past, we have had our disagreements. and though i have called you a bitch before, you have proved yourself, and your care for the agents. this is NOT what i wanted to see happen to you, and i am worried for your future, and the effects another loss will have on scully. so please consider recovering quickly for the sake of everyone else. the FBI will fall to the ranks of such freaks as cig man and his greasy pet rat-snake hybrid krycek if you don't stand guard.

man. i have a lot of thoughts. unfortunately though, i just went back and checked all my notes for typos that i'm sure i failed to catch entirely, and now i'm stuck on mulder's announcement that he was turned on again. we really do have to ask ourselves: why is he that way? i shudder at the thought. spraying him with more water.

would you say that to your male colleagues, mulder? please let me know. because i actually kind of think you would. which doesn't really make you understand the whole concept of gender-based workplace harassment that thought exercise usually provokes.

there is a TIME and a PLACE for hitting on the homies. do that shit off the clock. freak!!!

anyway. let scully have peace. let her not worry about more early deaths related to conspiracies. let her do more dog bathing and ice cream eating and internet research on various animal species. and let her tell us about planes <3 i hope everything gets solved and everyone is happy and mulder and scully and skinner eat ice cream sundaes together in the next episode <3

#i'd say we need to get mulder a shock collar but he'd probably be into that too #smh #well! now i have to go about my day just WONDERING what happens next #there were so many things to unpack and i've barely touched the surface but. i must prepare for another busy week.#rotating krychek around in my mind but in a derogatory fashion. like ugh take a look at THIS guy #skinner baby i'm sorry for what i said before... please come home #AHHHHHHH (screaming for an even longer period of time)#juni's x files liveblog #the x files #txf

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