#evil characters who hate themselves for their urge to Do The Right Thing is one of my fav character tropes

[firelord-frowny]

my sexuality is Garak's deranged and tortured monologue in the episode "The Wire" in Deep Space 9 where he tells the story of being exiled from Cardassia for releasing Bajoran hostages <3 <3 <3

[ms-cartoon]

I've been coming across a bunch of Hazbin spoilers and decided "screw it" and found the leaks to the full episodes. (I don't care how sensitive you leak haters are about it)

Of course, as expected, this show is already turning out to be trashy as I would expect it to be. Little retcons here and there, shitty writing, some crappy and pathetic characters who already lost whatever mojo they had back in the pilot, voice-acting is bitter as it will always be, etc.

There are a lot of issues with just these two eps, but I'm just gonna point out the ones that got my attention the most.

WARNING: THERE ARE SPOILERS/ MENTIONS OF HARRASMENT AND ALL THE 18+ BS.

-- Charlie- "Once upon a time, there was a glowing city protected by golden gates, known as Heaven. It was ruled by beings of pure light. Angels that worshipped good and shielded all from evil."

I beg to differ since it's established already that angels from heaven are nothing but fakes and are evil as hell, probably proud of it. Exhibit A: Adam and Sera. Now if they were anything like Frollo (someone who believes they are doing good but are not) I might be okay with it. Like say, they only resort to extermination because they're from heaven, they feel it is their job, and they have to do it even though it's wrong. Instead, however, I assume they exterminate because they just like to do it and they're evil like that. They probably have a feeling that some sinners are still good people on the inside and just don't care.

-- Charlie: As the numbers of Hell grew, so did its power. Threatened by this,

Heaven made a truly heartless decision that every year, they would send down an army an extermination to ensure Hell and its sinners could never rise against them.

I hear with my little ear another retcon!!

In the pilot, the only reason why extermination was a thing was because of overpopulation in hell. Now they're saying heaven is exterminating sinners cuz they're threatened by the overgrowing power and they don't want to be rebelled by it?? I going to guess that they only made this change so they can force evil on heaven while making Lucifer the innocent one. This is exactly what they did with Stella in the HB series where it was brought up that things were okay between her and Stolas only for the second season to say Stella hated Stolas the whole time they were together and treated him badly just so the writers can tell us viewers that she's evil.

Is this gonna be a thing now?

-- Angel: I'll have the horniest sinners knockin these walls down to get in!

This body was made to be exploited!

Seriously, guys, this is the same pervert we're supposed to feel bad for BECAUSE he's being exploited!

And leave it to Angel to completely miss the point of this hotel. What they want is to convince sinners to REDEEM themselves. Banging them is not a way to go about it, bud!

-- My predictions about Angel being a sex joke are correct. I'm mean- they've always been correct, I'm just saying I had a feeling they were going to show it off more in the show.

-- Vaggie: "No, we can't force sinners to stay here. They need to choose to."

Angel Dust: "Well, I chose to stay here and I think it's all stupid."

No shit- The only reason why u agreed to stay is for the free rent. So don't go marking yourself as a good example.

-- I don't totally have a problem with this show being a musical as long as the timing is right. Charlie is so quick to tell Vaggie about a meeting she'll participate in and is excited about, but before Vaggie can even question it and talk to her, Charlie immediately starts singing without even hearing Vaggie out. They kinda rushed this musical number a little too quickly. Which only goes to show how fast-paced this episode is. It's always fast-pacing with these shows.

-- I have the sudden urge to jump inside this show and beat the ever-loving crap outta Angel if keeps on moaning and getting horny . . .

-- Angel continuously flirts and touches an obviously uncomfortable Husk and fans are going to look at this as "cute" while I look in annoyance and disgust. And once again, this is the same guy we're supposed to feel bad for because he has a pimp who inflicts the same actions that he does and fans will choose to ignore it.

-- Adam is practically the most irritating character in this series so far. I was right with what I said about him before. For someone who's supposed to be an angel he sure as hell doesn't act like it. The whole time he's on screen, he's just making jokes, ridiculing the hell out of Charlie, and not listening to her at all. Continuously cussing and talking about dicks??? He has the most cringiest dialogue ever and I had the urge to skip it every time he's on screen. Something tells me he and Lute should switch positions since she seems more professional.

-- Charlie: Sinners make mistakes, but everyone makes mistakes.

Charlie, I know where you're trying to get at sweetheart, but I really hope you don't include all the rapists, murderers, abusers, and pedophiles down below. Do you really think they qualify as someone who can be redeemed? If so, I would have to side with the angels here despite their antagonistic behavior. I would understand trying to rehab drug addicts, alcoholics, robbers, etc. but definitely not the former.

Now that I think about it, Charlie is kind of acting like Viv in this scenario where she tries to excuse these criminalistic behaviors most of her characters committed when they really don't deserve anything good happening to them. That's like trying to redeem Valentino for pimping and abusing Angel Dust. Do we really think Val is capable of redemption??

Sorry to burst your bubble Ms. Morningstar, but the angels are in the right here. Hell exists for a reason and people who do bad things and like to do bad things deserve to be there. I wouldn't bother trying to rehab sinners who don't deserve it or are not going to try to fix their behavior.

-- Lute: Angels don't make mistakes . . .

Then what does that say about Lucifer? He was an angel who caused some actions that you guys would count as mistakes therefore expelling him from heaven. You guys never even attempted to exterminate him yet.

-- I'm sorry, I don't like Brandon Rogers as Killjoy. It's literally just a demon version of one of his characters. It's nothing original like the pilot.

So that is what I think about the first episode. If I forget to mention something, i'll just edit the post. Won't be too long before I make some comments about the second one, but for now, the gist of everything is . . . it's bleh.

If you have any questions, feel free to ask me!!

[slaymitchabernathy]

Gifts

The cold metal of the bracelet against Soarynn’s skin sends chills down her spine. For two reasons.

One, because the bracelet truly is cold. It’s probably been sitting in that box in his pocket for hours now, waiting to be presented to her.

Two, because where the two ends of the bracelet connect, there is a small hole only meant for a key.

She almost didn’t notice it but Soarynn’s always been perceptive. Too perceptive in her boyfriend’s opinion sometimes.

“What’s this?” She asks finally while giving him a teasing smile.

He likes that about her, how she lets him explain everything to her as if she doesn’t understand. Coriolanus is smarter than her, she knows that, but she’s not an idiot. Only if he wants her to be.

Coriolanus chuckles while holding her wrist in his hand, his other hand stuffed in the pocket of his pants.

“It’s a bracelet darling.”

Soarynn suppresses the urge to laugh, to call him a big fat liar because right now he is one.

Which is funny since he hates when they lie to each other. It’s only okay when he does it it seems.

Soarynn glances down at the bracelet again. It’s gold, with small circular divots equally spaced out. It fits her wrist perfectly. Just like he fits her perfectly.

It’s a collar.

She wishes he just bought her a collar. At least then they both wouldn’t have to lie to themselves and each other about what this gift is really about.

“And how does one close the clasp to this bracelet?” Soarynn asks him, finding it amusing that he thought she’d just go along with it.

Coriolanus clears his throat, a little frustrated she’s sure.

Good. She likes him frustrated. He fucks her the best when he’s mad. Pent up. Angry.

Coriolanus Snow is an angry, bad, evil man.

Good thing Soarynn’s not marrying him for his character.

He’s rich too. There that’s better.

“Well you close it with this key. It locks around your wrist so it can’t fall off. You do have a tendency to lose the things I gift to you,” Coriolanus states.

Soarynn shrugs at the small accusation he managed to slip into his explanation.

Coriolanus gets her a lot of gifts. New clothes, new shoes, new lingerie, jewelry. She only loses them when she gets bored of them. Then he buys her new things and the cycle continues.

“I imagine you’ll be in possession of the key then,” she purrs so sweetly as to hide her indignation.

It’s then that he so cleverly reveals the small key which surprise, surprise, there is only one of.

Soarynn imagines the bracelet could be sawed off in an emergency. That’s what she tells herself as Coriolanus twists the key, locking that bracelet onto her wrist.

She pulls her wrist from his hold, ignoring the small sound of annoyance Coriolanus makes when losing the source of physical contact with her. She ignores a lot of things he doesn’t like. If he wanted a girlfriend who truly cared, he should’ve picked someone else.

Soarynn gives a small hum as she finally comes to terms with the new piece of jewelry adorning her wrist.

“It’s pretty,” she tells him, “thank you.”

Coriolanus smiles, he’s proud of this of course.

“Next time it’ll be a wedding ring,” he promises her.

Soarynn smiles back at him, “Good.”

They both settle back into their seats, leisurely sipping at their drinks while they wait for the waiter to bring the check.

Sometimes Soarynn thinks she could fall in love with Coriolanus Snow.

Sometimes.

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

[eviltiddyproductions]

Vincenzo : Episode 4

HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO CONTINUE they didn’t even show a preview for the next episode

Oh I hope she didn’t watch them get hit

Also that evil man smiling as he knew what’s he about to do WHEN I CATCH YOU

What is this background music somebody is dead 😭😭😭 the case of classical music playing as someone gets murdered continues

SISTER NO

Oh this got me bad. I am actually so mad and sad at the same time 😭😭😭 I want to hug her so bad why must the good dads always die

baby <///3

also such a shoddy job, didn’t even see to check if everyone died. Babel, lawyer lady YOU WILL CRUMBLE

Should’ve continued hating her when she bragged that she blackmailed someone into killing themselves

now they’re going for character assassination too count your days you babbling Babel bitch ass corporation

Am I even going to be normal about her intern dying if this has got me DOWN (to be fair good parent dying and the child not getting a goodbye or being left alone has always hurt me )

and when I kill this lady. Just dancing just like that

the intern is the only one next to her :(

her dad was loved down. I love that

damn let me put a reminder to always put little notes on the back of photographs to remember better

lmao they’re both so unserious it is helping me rn 😭

how does someone look that good getting up from a 10 day sleep

I thought she gasped because she saw his butt but you know what I’d be more torn about someone hearing me cry too 💀

Oh he’s wearing pyjamas

my man said let me give it my all for plot conveniences and gave Vincenzo a to do list #real

I know he was trying to wake her up and wasn’t exactly wrong but that was really mean lmao

that sassy light slap #real

me trying to control the urge to punch this lady oh it’s bad for me

lawyer lady I want you to have the most painful episodes in the end 🙏💗

been in this office for a week and saying things like know your place when I get my hands on YOU

SMACK her Cha!!! I would it’s okay

The audacity to hold her neck I’m so mad ???

good one Cha

Intern just leave with her

The limbo 💀💗 awww he’s in her truck

she looks so good, always

my man so mad for the right things for being in the mafia and having killed people 😭 #real #change starts somewhere

the rain starting just as he stares at something

Public enemy number 1 so bad

how is the blood still wet it’s been 10 days ??? hey at least he seems to remember who did it.

What the fuck is that on this pretend CEO’s bed

yes Intern be her ears in this office #slay

I hope this villain lawyer lady is not the reason you die 😭

they really made her the suspect when I get my hands on this fiction lady EUGH

the chutney on the magazine that they might use as evidence 💔

Her dad’s apprentice fighting for his life to keep the door open to make Quasano help her he’s so real

Quasano pyjamas look so good. lmaooo if you’re going to lie down might as well get up ;)))

my man intern getting buffed every 3 seconds (rightfully so lmao boundaries babe but it’s nice that you want help)

oh the police is going to take this the other way 😭

look who got out of the horse

at least they got her breakfast. the zoom in makes me think they’re trying to get her fingerprints

he waited 😂

girl let the intern finish lmao, for me!!! I love when his tangents , he’s adorable (almost said babbles 😡)

how is everyone doing a background check on my man and missing the mafia link 😭

nooo she’s got no one to turn into but him 💀

Korea’s law system cannot be real let me google ??? no way

he’s got a knack for standing up for people in this building and I appreciate that. the inmate apologised for killing her dad as if he was not laughing 3 seconds ago like bffr

that cop was shady looking from the beginning but like rule number one of getting with shady people, you’re almost always going to get taken out

get this bitch Hong Cha

justice system and jails are in shambles everywhere in the world

my sister that lawyer lady needs to go!!!! they’ll keep killing but good promise regardless

to be fair he never promised

that was actually so sexy of him! get him Vince !!!!

slay apprentice man slay !!! tase him

the good guys not killing bad guys in fiction sucks because you know they’ll go to jail or can’t be revered for taking the upper hand but damn villains don’t stop killing you till they’re 6 feet underground

she said no killing, injure a little !

slay (might be a fake out though)

oh this is such a slay! count your days lady!

how are you going to have the heat and scare everyone and kill people and not be ready to take it yourself

Walking around with you can’t fuck with me I’ll kill you energy and can’t deal with the lights turned off ( she really pissed me off I’m sorry! I’m tired)

GET YOUR LICK BACK! The truck is such a nice threat touch here

their memories matter to me more than your worthless life ever could. bars honestly

real !!! how are you going to terrorise people and be scared to die omg ??? ( a problem with a lot of villains like be serious you can kill people but others can’t do that to you 😭 )

oh are they going to burn this Italy style?

damn did he actually kill those people (slay but I thought it was a fake out)

THEY ARE. GET EM!!!!

Is he just going to leave his lighter

arson never looked so good

my sister wear a mask??! what if someone recognises you

this is episode 4…. what are they going to do to me for the next 16 😨

It was a fake out !!!

not like they can go back to their boss anyway 💀

Aww the people came to help :)

this fake CEO about to get beaten up again I fear 😭

NOW?! Someone LIED TO ME because why is the INTERN the CEO WHAT !?!!!!

he must know everything about Vincenzo then

Oh I feel like someone stole the rug from my feet they gagged me I did not see this coming…

I mean it’s a great way to keep an eye on the people you hire but DAMN

Watch your back my girl 😭😭😭

[unhealthyfanobsession]

I teased this in a previous post and people asked me to expand so...here’s my controversial take that Rhysand and Nesta are actually parallel characters in many ways and that they both hate each other so much because they ultimately hate themselves.

Alright ladies and gentleman, anti’s and stans, buckle your fucking seatbelts or hope off the roller coaster here because I’m about to learn you a thing or two about the most divisive characters in the ACOTAR world. 

Starting out very broadly- both characters are introduced as sort of confusing villains (Rhys is “evil” but he’s also helping Feyre. Nesta is an “awful sister”, but she also is protective of Elain and tells Feyre essentially to go and be happy), both have faced significant trauma and grapple with self-loathing and feelings of not being good enough, and both ultimately find redemption and healing with their mates who love them. They also both currently exist in a strange parallel coming out of ACOSF where Rhys is supposedly “chosen by the Cauldron” and Nesta is “blessed by the Mother”- the two sacred entities of Prythian.

Intrigued? More specifics and text analysis under the cut

Mommy (and Daddy) Issues:

Both characters were basically raised by their mother’s alone and then lost them at a young age and that had a deep impact on them. Rhysand had a far more positive experience of being raised by his mother HOWEVER I would argue that it was still “grooming” of a type since she took him away to train in Illyria specifically so that he wouldn’t be influenced by his father.

Rhys’ mother did this out of love and Nesta’s mother groomed her out of a social climbing agenda, but it had the same effect- they both lost the parent who was their primary caregiver at a young age and they were both not close with their father’s because of their mother’s actions  (again this was a good thing for Rhys, not as much for Nesta).

Parents Death: Rhys and Nesta both blame themselves for one of their parent’s death and are deeply affected by feeling like they failed someone important to them.

Rhys thinks that he is responsible for his mother and sister’s death because he gave Tamlin info

Rhys even says after this “It should have been me.”

Nesta feels that she was unable to save her father and she hates herself for it.

Rocky sibling relationship and Separation:

Rhysand and Cassian are obviously a lot further along in their sibling journey, but it’s stated that he and Cassian HATED each other and fought constantly essentially until Azriel arrived and then they decided to be “allies”.

Nesta and Feyre are also at each others throats but seem to put their differences aside in order to not upset Elain. (Even when Feyre first goes back to the human lands Nesta says NOPE NO FAE! But as soon as Elain asks her to do as Feyre says she agrees) and then Nesta states in ACOSF that she and Feyre were brought together by Elain to be allies in the war.

Rhysand and Cassian obviously grew into true brothers despite their adversarial, insulting, bitter beginning... and Nesta and Feyre after ACOSF have done the same. Obviously there’s still a lot of work to be done in that relationship, but the parallel stands (and is just strengthened by the fact that in both cases it’s the character with more power in the relationship- Nesta for being the oldest and Rhys for being the one whose family took Cassian in is then mated to the opposite sibling!)

Both have a parent who essentially separated them from their ‘siblings’ for their own benefit. Nesta’s mom isolated her as a child so that she could groom her and tell her how to maneuver her sisters when the time was right while Rhys’ father- afraid of his, Cassian, and Azriel’s combined power- separated them for 7 years through the first war to ensure they wouldn’t ally against him. Nesta was also separated from Feyre by Tamlin and tried to go to the wall to get her back but couldn’t get through- which is very reminiscent to me of the scene at the beginning of ACOWAR from the first war where Rhys is searching desperately but without hope for Cassian.

Shared Trauma and Learning to be “Evil” to protect their family:

both characters are sexual assault survivors who spend a chunk of their book (I’m counting ACOMAF as essentially Rhys’ book since that’s when we learn more about him as a character) grappling with that, coming to terms with it, and moving forward with a general attitude of “Never Again.” I would also argue that even their abusers are parallels as Rhysand was only ‘with’ Amarantha because he was trying to protect his family and Nesta was only ‘with’ Tomas because she thought his family might be able to take in and feed Elain (she says in ACOSF that she would give him whatever he wanted- her body meant nothing to her and Elain meant everything, which is essentially Rhys’ UTM mindset). In addition, both characters are able to escape their abusers out of love for Feyre. Rhys does so when Amarantha is about to kill Feyre, and Nesta does so because she realizes that Tomas would never go to the wall with her to save Feyre.

 Beyond this, both characters express that it is the lack of control over their own lives that truly haunts them. Rhys when he felt like he had no choice but to be Amarantha’s puppet and Nesta with a lot of her life, but especially when she is forced into the cauldron. Both of these are things that make them feel like failures for not protecting others. Rhys is haunted that he couldn’t protect Feyre under the mountain and Nesta is haunted that she couldn’t protect Elain from the cauldron.

This leads both characters to have a terrifying power-surge nightmare brought on by their trauma (Rhys from Amarantha; Nesta from the Cauldron) that terrifies those around them and can only be stopped by their mate.

In addition to this, they both have a “persona” that they put on and sometimes feel like they can’t shake off, a face that they made to protect themselves and their family. Rhys with his “Court of Nightmares” persona that he uses UTM, in the Hewn City, and with the other High Lords until the war. Part of his growth is letting people see beyond that ‘most powerful high lord of darkness’ mask.

For Nesta this is expressed by her “wolves” that she uses to put up a wall between her and the people who mocked her and her family, and especially Elain. And her learning to open up with Cassian and her found family was really important for her growth

HOWEVER, they both also keep that persona. Rhys has his mask polished for when anyone might threaten the people he loves and so does Nesta. Neither of them truly gave up that side of themselves, the darkness, they simply learned to stop it from consuming them. 

They also both LIKE doing this to their enemies. Rhys likes to toy with his enemies and torture those who would harm his family or betray him and so does Nesta- she revels in cutting down anyone who insults Elain and says in ACOSF that she’s felt the urge to do the same for Cassian. They both wield words like weapons and use their intelligence to ensure they are always one quip ahead of their enemies. Something that both Feyre and Cassian admire in their mates and try to emulate to a degree.

(Bonus points for the fact that in both cases their families did not ASK to be protected/sacrificed for.)

Found family and sacrifice:

Rhys calls Cassian and Azriel his “brothers” after becoming close while training and they conquer the blood rite together. Nesta calls Emerie and Gwyn her “sisters” after becoming close while training and they conquer the blood rite together. Rhys sacrifices himself to Amarantha in order to protect Cassian and Azriel (and Velaris). Nesta sacrifices herself to hold the path of Enalius to protect Emerie and Gwyn. There’s also a line in ACOMAF and a parallel line in ACOSF essentially about Nesta being willing to do anything- including “whore” herself- to protect Elain, and in order to protect his brother’s that’s exactly what Rhys did- “whore” himself to Amarantha.

Both are ‘saved by’ and feel not good enough for their mate:

I hesitate to use the word “saved by” because ultimately both characters have more agency than that, HOWEVER, both characters rely on their mate to a degree to pull them out of a very dark time and place. Feyre helps Rhys remember who he is and forgive himself for under the mountain and he even specifically calls her his “salvation.”

I don’t think I need to even say the Nesta part here, all of ACOSF is essentially Cassian helping Nesta climb out of a dark period so that they can heal together.

(Both also start connecting with their mates on a “just sex” situation.)

Both characters think that because of the things they’ve done and the darkness inside of them that they don’t deserve the people they have been mated to.

Obviously there are many differences, but the characters are similar in a lot of ways and what I think this really highlights is just how true that line is in ACOSF about Nesta being a wolf that was never allowed to learn how to be a wolf. Meanwhile Rhys is 500 years older and has always had power and agency of some kind even at his lowest point. Nesta didn’t have that power and wasn’t allowed to really unleash herself so she armed herself with a steel exterior to make up for that lack of power and control. Which is very similar to what Rhysand did when he felt he didn’t have power under the mountain- put on a cold face, not let anyone in, and act cruel in order to get through it.

Overall it’s an interesting character study because in a lot of ways these are very similar characters, but there is such a MASSIVE divide among the fandom of liking and hating one or both of them. Ultimately, I do think that a lot of the hate Nesta gets is because she’s a woman and female characters simply aren’t allowed to have the same flaws as male ones- which is kind of Nesta’s whole life story. BUT I think that Rhysand actually gets unintentionally screwed over by the narrative in one big way. Becuase my final paralell is that I think a lot of people came around on Nesta when they saw in her perspective that she knows she has problems and how much she was struggling… and I also think that Rhysand is so hated by those who dislike him because of Feyre’s ‘he can do no wrong’ perspective. I think if we saw more of Rhysand internally struggling and knowing that he made the wrong call sometimes and second guessing himself he’d be a lot more likeable character. We know he’s capable of this because when Cassian calls him out on the training roof for always thinking the worst of Nesta he just says “you’re right. I’m sorry” and he even *kinda* admits some wrong when he’s so shocked by how deep Nesta’s trauma is. Feyre and the rest of the IC constantly exalting Rhys as perfect when he so clearly isn’t and in fact has a lot of the same “flaws” as Nesta is probably the most frustrating thing about the character, which ultimately I think is kind of unfair because we know from his few perspectives that he doesn’t see himself that way.

[bthump]

thank you so much for you posts on guts assaulting casca bc quite frankly... the way the fandom frames it rather lead me to overlook it and have an uncomplicated relationship with him, all the while hating what griffith did during the eclipse. (in your opinion, what makes the fandom like this?)

Thank you for sending this, I'm really happy my posts inspired you to rethink your initial takeaway from Berserk and the fandom! lol I hope that didn't ruin the experience for you or make you dislike a character you used to love or anything though, imo the way both the Eclipse and Guts assaulting Casca are written reflects more on the writing than on Guts or Griffith as characters.

Man though there are so many reasons for this imo.

I mean for starters, there's the fact that certain takes kind of have a chokehold on fandom, like the classic "Griffith was an evil unfeeling sociopath all along and here's a nonsensical explanation for every single one of his actions that seems to demonstrate otherwise" lol. I avoid the rest of fandom as much as I can and I still see a lot of instances where someone will, say, go to the Berserk reddit or Skull Knight like, "hey I don't understand xyz moment, if Griffith doesn't care why did this happen?" and get the rote "because he's a control freak who couldn't stand seeing his friends living their own lives" answer, or whatever lol. These fans shut down discussion as often as they can and most fans just accept those answers because they don't care enough to think about it themselves, or they don't have the tools to analyse the story and come to their own conclusions because critical thinking is a learned skill that many people were never really taught.

So along with Griffith being evil all along, you have fans who might be like, "hey, it's kinda fucked up that Guts tried to rape Casca right, maybe I don't want them to get together," and get responses like "no you see he was possessed at the time, it's not his fault it was the beast of darkness who is a random evil malicious entity and not a symbolic representation of Guts' dark side at all."

As for why fans are so eager to come up with these explanations and believe them, I mean to be fair for a lot of people it's just easier to enjoy a story if the protagonist is likeable and sympathetic and not an attempted rapist lol. I can understand the urge to downplay Guts' actions there or find an alternative explanation for them, because to do otherwise would reduce their enjoyment of the story. I think this urge can be very bad when it leads to people using actual rape apologist rhetoric, like "Guts stopped before he got his dick in so it's not that bad and he should be forgiven" or whatever, but when it leads to arguing that he was actually possessed then it's like... whatever lol. You're wrong, you're misunderstanding the story entirely, but at least you're happy I guess, good for you. (yk assuming they're not being an asshole to other fans who disagree, which lbr is a pretty unlikely assumption in this fandom, but you know what I mean.)

That said there are a lot of terrible Berserk fans out there who make it pretty obvious that their bad takes are rooted in offensive misogynist and homophobic beliefs. I mean a common nickname for Griffith in this fandom involves a homophobic slur, so that should tell you the kind of people I'm talking about here. Those are the ones who I very much think hate Griffith from the start because he's got serious gay vibes, and go out of their way to find reasons to justify their hate and ignore every nuance in his character arc, while excusing Guts at every possible turn because he's the manly "hetero" protagonist they wanna be.

And yk, there are just a lot of people in general who don't like moral greys, who don't like nuance in fiction, and who want to flatten as much as they can to "good" or "bad." So Guts is "good" and therefore every bad thing he does has to be explained away and ignored. Griffith is "bad" so every good thing he does also has to be explained away and ignored.

BUT to be fair and well-rounded here, it's not all the fault of fandom. The story itself makes it easy to do this. I mean the eclipse rape was 2 chapters long, it took away Casca as a character for 20 years, it made the protagonist very angry, it was commiteed by a demon who has pointedly shown no remorse, and it was basically used as motivation for a whole revenge plot.

Conversely Guts assaulting Casca was a few pages, most of which was shown in symbolic imagery in Guts' head, Guts feels bad about it, and - and this is something I absolutely hate about Berserk lol - it's had zero negative consequences, at least so far, and several positive results. It's the inciting incident for Guts realizing he needs a babysitter and has to work on being less shitty, and Casca was already afraid of him so that didn't even change for the worse. Guts sexually assaulting Casca literally had a positive impact on the narrative. This makes it a lot easier to downplay how utterly shitty it was, and this is a major problem with the story.

And like the story itself doesn't condemn Guts for the assault very harshly despite being very clear about Guts being the one responsible. This is another thing that can create cognitive dissonance for fans and require explaining away - the attempted rape was a Bad Thing but since the story itself kind of downplays it that must mean that Guts isn't actually at fault, because if he was surely it would be a whole big thing, and not one scene that has never been brought up again.

So yeah, idk, basically I think there are a bunch of reasons for the fanbase's reactions to Guts and Griffith sexually assaulting Casca, and some of them are understandable and some of them are shitty. Thanks for the ask!

[thefilmsnob]

Thor: Love and Thunder: **1/2 out of 5

Thor: Love and Thunder is a film of many dichotomies…for better or for worse. The most obvious one is right in the title, evoking the contrast between the romantic storyline and the thunderous action. Other one’s include classic ‘good vs evil’ themes and the not-so-classic ‘male Thor and female Thor’ development. There’s even a black and white sequence. Much of this content is quite enjoyable

The same can’t be said about the stark juxtaposition of manic, candy-coated farce that takes up most of the run time and periods of dark, twisted imagery and sorrow that’s sure to cause tonal whiplash. This is one of the many aspects of the film you might find yourself hating, even though there’s still so much to love. And, suddenly, I’m feeling the urge to belt out Katy Perry’s sensational ‘Hot n Cold’.

Of course, Christian Bale can do no wrong, so naturally he’s one of the highlights of the film. He’s a tragic villain, a loving father corrupted and turned sinister and grotesque, not unlike Smeagol in the Middle-earth saga. As Gorr, he struggles to survive in a desert with his daughter, Love, in the film’s prelude. Despite their prayers to the god Rapu, Love dies, and the Necrosword offers itself to Gorr, who not only uses it to kill Rapu but vows to kill all gods with the corrupting weapon. If you didn’t already know, Thor (Chris Hemsworth) is a god, so that means trouble.

It also means it’s time to catch up with him and his new allies, the Guardians of the Galaxy, who’re battling strange aliens on a strange planet in an obligatory opening action sequence that’s about as obnoxious and pandering as they get in this series. With a scene that features—among several other eyerolling flourishes—Thor doing the splits to hold up two alien vehicles, writer-director Taika Waititi exhibits the worst tendencies of both the Marvel Cinematic Universe and his own films, projects that otherwise have much to offer. It sets the tone for a manically paced film that almost immediately whisks us away yet again once Thor learns of the God Butcher.  

We say goodbye to the Guardians but welcome a pair of oversized space goats, the locals’ reward to Thor for helping them fend off their enemy. Throughout the film these goats emit human-like, guttural screams for no apparent reason other than to induce belly laughs from the audience…which they do…several times. I did say there was lots to love about this film.

The bit about Jane Foster’s (Natalie Portman) stage four terminal cancer might’ve been one of those things if it wasn’t bookended so often with goofiness. Not that the MCU is a prime landing spot for heavy material to begin with, but I can think of several entries in the franchise that would be more appropriate than this one. Thankfully, the scenes themselves, isolated from the rest of the film, are quite touching and tactful. Jane refuses to succumb to this tragic fate, however, so she travels to New Asgard, the Asgardian refuge in Norway, hoping that Thor’s fractured hammer Mjolnir will heal her. Forget healing; it transforms her into another Thor, for crying out loud!

And thank God(s) for that because it’s just in time to help Other Thor, Valkyrie (Tessa Thompson) and Korg (Waititi) defend New Asgard from Gorr in one of several forgettable action sequences. And, so, the film continues from here with the requisite team-up of disparate heroes pursuing the bad guy while engaging in banter that oscillates between amusing and irritating. That’s also an apt description of the love story between the Thors who act like nervous teenagers within a ‘will-they-won’t-they’ dynamic that never quite takes off. As usual, all the characters are still quite likable despite having all gotten oddly dopier between films.

No character is dopier than Zeus, played by an almost unrecognizable Russell Crowe with his unkept beard, doughy physique and exaggerated Greek accent. Crowe plays him as an arrogant blowhard who scoffs at our heroes’ pleas for help as he stands on his podium sporting a golden breastplate that might as well be white cloth with the stench of beer and a mustard stain. Which is ironic considering Omnipotence City, a realm that’s home to several gods of whom Zeus is the leader, is an awe-inspiring paradise among the clouds. Like ancient Greece meets Shangri-La, its cascading greenery, ornamental architecture and otherworldly physics amount to one of the film’s few stunning visuals.

That’s not unlike Bale. One of this generation’s greatest actors throws vanity to the wind as he slithers and stalks and hides in the shadows, his weathered face as pale as the robes that adorn his sinewy body. With a personality that’s by turns aggressive and eerily jocular, he recalls the infamous Pennywise the Clown. In simpler terms, he acts unhinged and resembles the undead. It’s too bad the film makers don’t fully take advantage of his character to really dissect the shortcomings of faith and religion, but that would require the impossible notion of Marvel Studios and Disney alienating much of their fanbase and sacrificing precious revenue. That’s not how you build an empire.  

Holding all the pieces of this film together is the narrator, who’s the polar opposite of Gorr. Voiced by Waititi, the unseen storyteller has a gentle, whimsical way with words and tells the story as if it were a children’s fairy tale. It’s a charming touch and describes the events of the film with humour that’s subtle and witty, a reprieve from the comedic bludgeoning you receive throughout most of the film.

Bale’s Gorr and Waititi’s narrator are two of the strongest elements that make up Thor: Love and Thunder. They just don’t belong in the same movie.

[imhaitusncarnate]

I have very mixed feelings on that aot ending

Ok so the politics of Attack on Titan have been discussed by a lot of people, some of whom have a very surface- level understanding of the story. I would like to start by giving my disclaimer that Attack on Tiatan ABSOLUTELY isn’t fascist, its anti racism, anti bigotry and anti discrimination themes are extremely apparent in it’s examination of the Eldians inside Marley, and fascist views held by characters such as Gabi are explicitly condemned in the text and made clear to be misguided and false. 

I would now like to draw everyone’s attention to the openings of seasons 1 and 2. 

Images like these combined with lyrics like these:

You pigs who sneer at our will to step over corpses and march onwards Enjoy the peace of livestock false prosperity "freedom" of the dying wolves that hunger

We dedicate and sacrifice our hearts

And also the use of german lyrics:

Sie sind das Essen und Wir sind die Jaeger! (they are the food and we are the hunters)

O, mein Freund! Jetzt hier ist ein Sieg. Dies ist der erste Glorie. O, mein Freund! Feiern wir diesen Sieg, für den nächsten Kampf!

(O, my friend! Now, here is a victory. This is the first glory. O, my friend! Let us celebrate this victory for the next battle!)

This is the stuff that lead me to believe that this is a deliberate use of fascist imagery. If the show just wanted to go for a militaristic vibe for the aesthetic of it, references this explicit to fascist propaganda and the use of German lyrics was not necessary. Also, lines like this:

And plenty of evidence that things were not what they seemed it the world of aot and that the overly simplistic view of good vs evil (humans vs the titans) was incorrect led me to believe that Attack on Titan was a deliberate deconstruction. That it was putting the audience into the mindset of the fascists to pull the rug from under their feet later. And I was right. Sort of.

As the story progresses, the world becomes a more and more complex political landscape and we are led to believe that this black and white mentality is wrong. We are also informed that the people who can transform into titans, the Eldians, are an opressed minority, explicitly paralleled to the Jews during nazi Germany, from their living in internment camps, to them being called devils, to their armbands, to a large number of them (our heroes) being confined in an island with walls circling them, which is revealed by Isayama to be Madagascar. The island that the nazis originally meant to confine the Jewish population in before arriving at the conclusion that that would be too costly, and that genocide was preferable. 

This is the first of the story’s mixed metaphors. While the show’s heart is in the right place, being sympathetic to the Eldians and showing their plight under marleyan opression and persecution, there is one problem. The reason for the opression of the Eldians is because the world is afraid of their power, as they are a race with the ability to transform into titans. There is, therefore, a tangible, justification for their internment. The Jews were not in any conceivable way a danger to anyone, they were simply scapegoated for the complex socioeconomic problems of Germany in the time period. Also, if we take a look at those openings again, we observe that the Eldians (our main characters) who wish to free themselves from their shackles are framed as fascists. So... what is that saying?

 The idea, as I see it, is that the story is condemning fanaticism in general, as a biproduct of a militaristic black and white worldview. The monstrous titans that our (framed as fascist) heroes fight against are revealed to be human, just like them.

The same is the case for the Eldian “devils” that the Marleyans fight against. Gabi, the character who is most fanatically against Eldians (despite being an Eldian herself) is comfronted with the humanity of the people she hates once she gets to know them.

Again, Isayama’s heart is on the right place here, trying to condemn bigotry, however the explicit referencing of history is the imagery is kind of misplaced, for the reasons I previously mentioned. Now let’s have a look at Eren Yeager.

Eren starts the story as a kind of messed up kid. He kills the human traffickers who kidnapped Mikasa while screaming:

I mean, in this case he is certainly justified, but his rage and anger are definitely not normal for a child his age.

This is Eren. He can’t stand injustice when he sees it. And injustice is what happens to him when the titans attack. His already fiery attitude and mindset is what leads him to this declaration of revenge:

That side of Eren is visible throughout the story and it’s foreshadowing for what he will later become

Eren, however, is a natural product of his environment. Ravaged by socioconomic inequality, with the rich living in the centre of the walls and the poor living in the outskirts, constantly under the threat of the titans and unable to obtain any kind of freedom, Eren’s philosophy of the need to be strong to overcome one’s enemies makes sense. The mantra “the strong prey on the weak”, that he ends up teaching Mikasa (another allusion to fascist ideology) is a biproduct of the world he lives in. He does not know of the political intricasies outside the walls. All he knows is he must kill the titans.

Eren’s titan is described as the “manifestation of humanity’s rage. It is huge and monstrous, and could be seen as a metaphor for vengeful hatred in general. Keep that in mind, it’s relevant for the ending.

This manufactured and false black and white worldview shapes him as a character, and it’s what eventually, after the arrival at the much desired ocean, leads him to this:

“Will we finally be free?”

In the continuation of the story, Eren falls toward the dark side more and more, to the point of committing atrocities and war crimes that are explicitly framed as being similar to what he suffered as a child (see his actions in Liberio). He even acknowledges that, telling Reiner, the person who committed said war crimes against him, that he essentially has no hard feelings and understands that the two of them are similar, doing what “needs to be done”. The character of Gabi, who, after what happens in Liberio, becomes obsessed with revenge against the Eldian “devils” is meant to be a foil for Eren, and his obsession with killing the titans after what happened to him. 

Extremely interesting is the way in which certain ideas and images are flipped in the later seasons. Namely, in season 4, we see a character who idolizes Mikasa and supports Eren’s plans in a scene where she spouts the same mantra of “the strong prey on the weak” and says that Mikasa saving her is what showed her that only with strength she can defeat her enemies. Mikasa tells her to shut up, and she proceeds to do the salute, that has been so glamorized by the show’s openings thus far. Now, it is done by a person from a military faction with a fanatic worldview. The direction doesn’t glamorize it at all. It is a nuanced, almost masterful deconstruction. 

Levi, who has always looked for reasons for why his comrades had t die, justifying their heroism and convincing himself that their deaths were not pointless, ends up here:

At this point, I was in love with Attack on Titan. From here, it only figures that Eren ends up attempting a genocide of the people outside the walls. He has essentally become what he hated the most, and he’s a natural result of the world that created him. Despite his noble intentions, he has turned into a monster. Mikasa, the prerson who loved him the most, completes her character arc by killing him, thus rejecting her blind devotion to him and being free, while at the same time continuing to love the person he once was. It’s a sad and tragic ending, painting Eren as a tragic character and making a pretty strong political point, despite having a few mixed metaphors.

And then, chapter 139 came out...

And Eren apparently pulled a Lelouch. This is a “I purposfully turned myself into a monster to save the world and make my friends into heroes for killing me” kind of thing. It is important to state that the manga makes it clear that Eren would have trampled the world even if they didn’t stop him, because of his urge to be free. However, that urge, that fighting spirit, end up being a good thing. The death of our heroes in battle apparently wasn’t pointless after all. They say goodbye with a salute

The Yeagerists, who were previously framed as fanatics, end up in charge of the government

It is important to state that the real event, the catalyst of the ending, is that killing Eren, who has turned himself literally into the manifestation of humanity’s rage (which has now, through the intricacies of the story, taken the political meaning of hatred and intergenerational trauma), eliminates the power of the titans. The titans are no more. This, in of itself, is good, and in keeping with the spirit of the political commentary thus far. However, the war, is still not over, and Eren’s mantra ends up being correct

So the only way for the war to end is one of the races to be wiped out? 

Also, despite Eren’s genocide being wrong, it is, in the end, justified, as a necessary evil by the story. An Ozymandias kind of moment in which the ends justify the means, but Eren himself has to die, because his crime was too great for him not to suffer punishment. Essentially, this chapter undoes all of the insightful commentary the story had made so far, by proving the ideology of its main character right. Story- wise this isn’t a bad ending, but if we take into account the political references the series has made, and its desire to explicitly tie itself with such imagery makes the ending leave a really bad taste in my mouth. What it essentally says, is that, yes, bigotry and racism are bad, yes, blind hatred is bad, but the general idea of might makes right and the impossibility of reconciliation are true. Armin, who has, throughuout the story, been Eren’s opposite, in terms of looking for peaceful solutions to conflict is rendered meaningless in the end, because him alongside with the other characters were all playing into Eren’s plans. The hearts of our main characters as recruits were in the right place, their fighting spirit admirable, and the overall worldview we are presented with in the beginning of the story remains more or less unchallenged. 

So where does that leave this imagery?

The conclusion is that one must think very carefully before including allegory in their work. I am not accusing Isayama for fascism, and I appreciate the efforts at deconstructing it throughout the story. However, in the end he did an oops I accidentally justified the mentality I was trying to condemn. I still like Attack on Titan, I believe it has artistic value and is overall a pretty good anime, I even agree with its politics to an extent. However, it is very important to critically examine the things we like, and see where they may have gone south. And this ending is that for me.

[captainsimagines]

To Topple A Giant || Chapter Eight

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 8 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. This is purely fanfiction.

Warnings in this Chapter: abusive parental relationship; extreme canon violence (gun violence, hand-to-hand, baton use, knives); strong language; mentions of drug smuggling, drugs, and human smuggling; mentions of blood and blood loss; major/minor character death (not the mains, don’t worry!); angst; gunshot wounds; heavy alcohol consumption

Word Count: 14,600+

A/N: Listen... you know damn well I had to put some American Pie lyrics in this. The reader’s and Jackeline’s relationship is not modeled after Nat and Yelena lol it was literally the biggest coincidence. 

~

MedBay - The New Compound, 2024, 1:52 pm     

     “He did what?”     

Bruce smiles sheepishly as he lugs Steve’s practically lifeless body onto one of those beige medical beds. Dr. Cho is pacing calmly around the room, getting her instruments cleaned and ready. She tries to ignore the way you’re crowding her, inspecting everything she touches and in turn is going to end up touching Steve.      

“He took a bullet for someone.”     

“And where is that someone?” you bite. You immediately want to apologize to Bruce for your tone but you’re distracted by the tiny groans of pain coming from the pale super soldier beside you. You have to look away to avoid whimpering yourself, but you can’t exactly make yourself deaf. “Don’t tell me he took a bullet for you.”     

Bruce rolls his eyes and steps to the side as Dr. Cho begins cutting away Steve’s pants. “Everyone else is on vacation. He has no one here to take a bullet for besides. It was a shitty liquor store robbery and Steve was, of course, being a hero.”      

“Where’s he hit?” you ask, heading over to grab a pair of gloves yourself. No one questions it.      

“Femoral artery. Seems like he was plugging his own wound until he could get help.”     

Dr. Cho is right. There’s a massive gash in his thigh that’s leaking excessively and the skin surrounding the wound is raised like Steve’s own fingers had plunged so deeply it left an imprint. Not only that, but his hand is covered in his blood. So is Bruce’s, you realize, because he had tried to plug the artery as well.      

“How is he not dead yet?” Dr. Cho more mutters to herself than to you guys. Steve’s head is lolling to the side and his lips are an awful shade of white. His eyes are fluttering open and closed… open… closed… and he’s still mumbling random phrases. There’s a rough tug at the bottom of your stomach that pulls and pulls and there’s a weird urge to crawl onto the table to keep Steve warm.      

“He needs blood,” you say, even though all parties in the room know that as fact.     

Bruce, however, winces. “Sam’s not even in the state right now and I don’t think we have enough time to fly him-”    

“Is he Sam’s blood type? What’s his blood type? Why can’t Bucky do it? Bucky’s in Brooklyn, he can be here in five minutes if he runs.”    

Bruce starts rummaging through the upper level shelves and freezer cabinets. “Can’t mix the serums. We’ve tried.” He finally finds the blood bags, pulling them all out and spreading them across the clean tables. “It’s - shit - do we not have?”     

Dr. Cho is now covered in blood, working as fast as she can to close the wound. “What’s his blood type?”    

Bruce repeats it out loud and watches as Dr. Cho’s face falls. “I ran out yesterday. The blood drive isn’t until this weekend. I had a patient come in yesterday, I - I ran out yesterday.”     

They seem to be having their own conversation with their eyes and are too focused on each other to see you already stripping your long-sleeve shirt and wrapping that horrible blue rubber band around your upper arm. “Me. Take mine.”    

Bruce immediately shakes his head, stuttering as he tries to remove the rubber band. “Nu-uh, I don’t know if you know this but you’re human. I need two bags, three tops. I can’t just take it all from you right now!”    

“Then get me some cookies and a juice box. I don’t care how much you have to take to make him speak a coherent sentence. Do me.”    

Bruce hesitates but he rushes to the cabinets for the needles, vials, tubes, whatever - “No, do it direct.”     

Your words startle the two doctors but they don’t question it. They hook you up and poke the needle in the first vein they find, attaching the tube instead of a single vial and direct it to Steve.      

“You sure your blood matches?”     

You give Bruce a pointed look as if that isn’t something written on your dog tags or on your weekly personal reports.      

In the end, you’re told that you gave him the equivalent of two pints of blood. Not that you were awake for the second anyway but you vaguely remember Steve’s voice ringing in your ears. You’re not awake as he regains consciousness or to witness his very confused glare at seeing you in the bed next to him.     

He swears he heard small mumblings… ‘If you die because of some highway robbery, Rogers --- I’m never gonna fucking stop bullying your grave --- haunt it’.... ‘Stay --- with me, please’.... ‘---supposed to apologize first’....   

He tests the waters, mumbling a name he only says with annoyance nowadays. But now, it’s gently said. Soft, a whisper that sounds like a fractured hymn. 

Present Day, 2025, 12:05 pm

     There isn’t a set emotion in the world that seems appropriate. What are people supposed to feel when they’re singled out and chosen to suffer a life of pain? Self-hate? Pity for themselves? Anger? Sadness? Remorse? Nothing?

You really don’t know what you’re feeling. In the middle of rubbing vaseline on your newly acquired cuts and scrapes and bandaging yourself up, biting on a belt as Bucky set your shoulder back in place, and lying with Steve discussing everything and nothing all night after your promise - well, what the hell are you supposed to feel? As inevitable as it was considering he had ordered you shot before, the one feeling you know you feel is betrayed. Because even though Ernesto has proven himself evil time and time again, to his own flesh and blood, there was still a small part in your heart that didn’t think any parent truly wanted to inflict pain on their children. And your heart keeps proving itself wrong again and again.

“You just... jumped out of the car?”

Ramirez’s voice snaps you from your inner thoughts. He was let out of custody this morning. He’s currently filling in anyone who asks about the shipment, about Ernesto’s future plans, about the role he thought he had.

“Against my better judgment, but yeah.”

He chuckles and grins like he’s a kid hearing the best story ever told. “That’s what superheroes do. At least, what I’ve seen in the movies. John Wick, Bond, esos tipos.”

“I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before, Omar,” there’s a teasing tone, “but I’m a fucking Avenger.”

That makes him laugh louder and in turn pulls one from you. “Ya se, ya se. I’ve known you since you were born. It’s weird hearing stories about you saving the world and jumping from bombed cars.”

“Mm, wait until you hear about that time I went into space and landed on another planet. Or time traveled. Take your pick.”

He’s stunned into silence and after a few more praises, he lets you return to typing out your report. There are plenty of other agents around for him to busy himself with. The base is tiny and not at all what you expected, but it’s secure enough to fit Torres, Sam, Bucky, and about fifteen other agents as they prepare for tonight. The plan you and Steve outlined was simple: attend the wedding, butter everyone up, send Steve away to help Ernesto retrieve and move the shipment, Scott and Sam will infiltrate, Bucky would be on standby to help you fight, and the rest of the team at base will begin arrests and sweeps. If everything goes according to plan, at least.

It’s easy to speak negatively about these things - there really were only two ways this could go.

You finish your report and go to stand, only realizing a minute later walking through the base that Ramirez is following you. You send him a funny look over your shoulder and he returns with a small smile of his own.

“Tengo preguntas!”

You stop and let him catch up. “Hmm?”

“Okay,” he starts, motioning his hands wordlessly until he could form them. “Are you and the Captain actually... juntos? Or just Avenger partners?”

“That’s personal, Omar,” you say with a roll of your eyes. “But I guess? That’s weird discussing with you.”

He nods in agreement. “It’s okay, I was just curious. So, him being mad was just an act? He doesn’t really hurt and threaten you, no?” He’s treading lightly, but you can already see the cartel mind turning. He would order Steve’s execution if he had to, even if he believed it to be morally wrong in some situations.

“Never. It was just an act for Ernesto.”

“Ah, Dios. Thank goodness.”

“Yeah, keep your men in line. It’s fine.”

He chuckles at that. “And the other Avengers?”

“They’re my family, Omar,” you grin wide, waking slower for the old man to keep up. “They would never hurt me.”

“That’s good, but not what I was asking.”

“Oh?”

“What are they like?”

Handing your report to one of the agents at a handful of monitors, you laugh loudly. “Do you want to meet them officially?”

“Aye, I know my daughters would like that...”

You raise an eyebrow.

“But I would like to meet them, too.”

“That’s what I thought. C’mon.”

The rest of the team are all relaxing and discussing the past days events in the lounge area, which is really just a glorified break room. Bucky’s still in his morning sweats same as Scott, Torres is already suited up, and both Sam and Steve are wearing their Avenger gear (minus Sam’s wings and Steve’s battered shield). Steve is the first one to notice you enter and he instantly gets up from his chair to greet you with a kiss on the cheek.

“Gross,” Bucky mumbles.

“You’ve been trying to get me a girl for over ninety years, Buck. And now that I’ve finally got someone who likes me back, you bully me for it?”

“Who’s bullin’? I said the same thing when Agent Carter smooched you in the weapon’s room and you thought you were alone.”

You pat Steve’s shoulder. “Think about it, Rogers. When Bucky settles down with someone, you have free reign.”

Steve pulls a thin smile and glances back at Bucky. “I’ll make them hate you.”

“Love and hate are the same thing, pal. It worked out for you two.”

“Okay, we’re done. Everyone, Omar wanted to formally introduce himself.”

Ramirez gives a shy wave. Torres returns it. It’s kind of hilarious to witness. Here you all are, Avengers and some standing over six feet with one of the most wanted drug lords in the world, and the all mighty drug lord is shy. 

“I’m so sorry we got off on the wrong foot.” You notice how when Ramirez speaks to strangers or those he deems good people on his side, his accent is a little thicker. It’s like he wants to speak only in Spanish other than the Spanglish you were all accustomed to. “But it really is an honor to meet you all.”

Scott is the first to stand and shake his hand. “Sorry I pointed my gun at you, man. Habit.”

Ramirez chuckles, “Sorry I broke into your room.”

Steve interjects, “Thank you, though. For telling us what more we’re fighting for.”

Ramirez nods, a solemn look spreading over his face. “The minute I found out, I didn’t know who to tell. I’m lucky you were never truly on his side.”

“And what will you do after all this is over?” Bucky stands. “How do we know we can truly trust you?”

Ramirez sneaks a glance at you and you raise your hands. “Hey, I’ve got the same questions as him.”

Ramirez must know he isn’t getting out of this one because he answers quickly. “Drugs have a market where people choose. I just meet supply and demand protocols. I don’t do the unnecessary violence or blackmail. There is no need to. People will always want drugs.”

There’s a round of agreement throughout the small room. Ramirez continues, “But smuggling humans? There is no choice, nothing moral about it, it’s evil.”

“But people get addicted to drugs. They die from them everyday,” Sam argues.

“I produce and deal what you American’s call weed. Ernesto does the big stuff, as does White. I’m,” he laughs a little. “I’m their weed guy.”

“That is true,” you confirm. You’ve moved and packaged Ramirez’s product before. “Literally just weed.”

Everyone seems deep in thought, like their processing Ramirez’s words and the weight behind them. Ramirez ran with the big boys and was the biggest distributor of marijuana in Mexico and America alike, but he never messed with any other product. Besides producing, selling, and smuggling illegal weed, his only other crimes included conspiring with Ernesto on how to get the product over state lines.

“Okay,” Steve starts. “So how is tonight gonna work? We have to discuss that.”

Ramirez bows his head. “You’ve allowed me safety, you’ve listened to me speak, and you’re saving both my life and my daughter’s. If you must arrest me, then you arrest me.”

“The minute you’re transferred to a prison with less security, Ernesto’s men will get you,” you reason, already shaking your head no.

Ramirez gives a nonchalant shrug, “But you’ll get him and White. That’s all that matters.”

You look over to Steve for some other ideas, but like you he doesn’t have any. No one seems to have any.

Torres matches his shrug and his voice is small as he speaks, almost like his next idea is insane. “We can always put him in the Raft.”

Everyone’s eyes go wide.

“That’s where all the enhanced humans go, no?” Ramirez is stunned. “Do I count?”

“We’ve got no idea,” Steve rubs at his chin, looking at you for confirmation he knows you don’t have. “But it’s an idea.”

     The plan is no longer singular. Fury had sent his best field agents for the job, the ones with the best aim, the ones with great strategic planning. Although you and Steve were still in charge, it was no longer just your mission. Your mission was to arrest the big three, big four when including Seda. That was it.

The plan goes like this: half the team will be focused on the venue itself, hidden in the shadows and monitoring the big three as well as your mics, and will aid you in the physical fight and arrests. Some are on the ground while others in the sky. Afterwards, they’ll sweep the estate and collect stolen property or priceless artworks. The other half is split into two, where one of those halves will be spread out for miles to capture anyone that might slip through, like guests who were on the most wanted list or guests that have helped Ernesto in the past. The other part of that half will intercept the shipment (once Steve radios in the location), save the hostages, and shut down the routes. 

They instruct Ramirez to call Ernesto and to ask him if there’s a vegetarian menu offered. Ernesto responds with only a muttered groan and in a wild turn of events, asks if Ramirez can call you to make sure you arrive earlier than expected to make sure Jackeline walks down that aisle. He’s completely serious. Not only does Ramirez play along, but Ernesto doesn’t give any indication that he knows about the car bomb. So the team makes a judgement call: this was only Seda’s doing.

Ramirez is then told that the Raft is not an option; both the US and Mexican government want him and the only reason he hasn’t been arrested is because he still has many cards to play. The more he helps, the less time he’ll get. 

One thing is known: this is the biggest mission anybody has been on in over two years. 

      Bucky remembers things in bits and pieces. Sometimes he’ll be minding his own business, enjoying this new world and the countless amenities it offers, and remember exactly where he was on the hottest day of the year in 1936. He remembers the blistering heat, boiling his once pale skin and giving him that beautiful olive he was now known for. He remembers the way his tongue dried almost instantly the moment he stepped outside and how he asked his next door neighbor, Ms. Kranshall, for a cup of water before work. He remembers her massive square glasses and how they nudged the tip of her nose as she nodded sweetly at him. He remembers her high but smoky voice and the way she patted his shoulder as he drank the cup down. 

The first time he remembered Natalia was around the same time he remembered Steve. He sees a flash of ember in strands, speed almost matching his, and he sees those panicked green eyes he was once all too familiar with. 

She was twelve when he first met her, forced to throw her around like a ragdoll until her ribs were bruised and her spirit broken. He went again and again, and when he wasn’t forced he would teach her how to fight properly and how to shield her most vulnerable areas. Scared as she was, she never showed it in those private moments, and decided to follow his lead in most things. And she learned to be fierce, no matter how hard he hit, and he still remembers the look in her eyes and the pull of her young face as they yanked him away for cryo before he could congratulate her on winning her first fight. 

The first time he remembered you was when you leapt onto T’Challa’s back as the chase neared, tackling the young prince become king, and watched with sad eyes as both him and Steve climbed onto the jet for Siberia. He remembers your clumsy punches when you fought him with half his brain and how he kicked you so hard you flew. He also remembers how when you took that kick for Steve, the sound of his wail almost deafened the soldier. 

Everytime he remembers something, a memory, no matter how strangled it may arise, the twinge in his chest is good. He’s remembering. He’s James Buchanan Barnes.

He feels that same twinge when a face full of freckles greets him at the entrance, documents raised above her head in a show of selfish glee, and a pep in her step that tells him she remembers him too. 

“Sergeant Barnes!” Maribel gives a toothy grin. “Never thought I’d see you again!”

Bucky tilts his chin up and rests the tip of tongue between his incisors. “What? Hydra wasn’t enough for you, you gotta infiltrate the Mexican cartel, too?”

She scoffs playfully, “Other way ‘round.”

He snatches the documents from her hand and leads her inside. “I hope you got something here. Steve put a lotta faith in you.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“Y/N does. That’s enough for me.”

Rolling her eyes, she snatches the documents back to turn the pages herself. “Follow me. We need to chat in private.”

“Shouldn’t we get-”

“I’d rather you know, and you tell them later. No audience.”

This causes Bucky to tense. He follows her in further and closes the door behind them both. 

The left side of her face had less freckles back in 2012, he remembers, and now she’s covered in them.     

Bucky remembers things slowly, but he remembers them. 

      It’s cold outside, air bruising your skin, and there are hundreds of goosebumps now erupting. You joke with yourself that in the end, you’ll most likely have to ask Steve for his jacket and ruin your overall look but hey, you’ll be warm. The wedding doesn’t start until five in the evening and it’s one’oclock right now, and there are white clouds in the sky instead of gray and the songs of some desperate birds searching for their lunch near your ears. It at least drowns out the constant noise of the agents hammering away at each other and preparing for tonight.   

It makes your stomach roll: these agents are putting their lives at risk because of you. 

     You stepped through the discarded papers and tried not to leave your footprint anywhere important. His office was empty, left in a state of purgatory, and his lamp was still on. It’s like he stepped out for a minute.

You picked everything up: pens, computers, books, chairs. Under everything, there was dust. 

He really did die.

As much as you wanted to step on his remains and spit on him, you couldn’t. The gash in your heart was still open and bleeding for everyone else and there was no room left for anger. You were indifferent, for lack of a better word. Frustrated?

A paper crumbles outside his office. No one had followed you in - a week after the snap and every single person on earth was still searching for loved ones or running from something - so no, no one else was supposed to be here. Mexico had been hit hard, it’s government shattered, and every cartel was picking up pieces or tearing the world further apart. There was no line anymore. 

You twisted around and aimed your gun at the door, immediately lowering it when you saw Natasha raise her hands. She had this embarrassed smile on her face like she knew she had been caught.

“I meant to say hi over your mic. But you turned it off.”

You sighed deeply and dramatically shrugged your shoulders. “Well, I’m here. Guess who’s not.”

Natasha only nods and steps further into the room. She looks over the same things you did. “He’s gone? Good, good riddance.”

“But his death means nothing if trillions of others died also. It’s so fucking typical of him. If he’s going down, he takes everyone else with him.”

“He didn’t take them, Y/N.”

“I want to be happy,” you spit out through clenched teeth. “I want to feel relief. The fucking bastard is finally gone and I can’t even enjoy it properly.”

Natasha takes one more look at the hallway before letting her guard down almost completely. She envelopes you in a hug, squeezing tighter each time your breath hitches. “Hey, listen to me.”

“He’s gone.”

“I know,” Natasha’s voice is low and reminds you of the gentle hum of record static. “He’s gone and he can’t hurt you anymore.”

“But everyone-”

“No,” she pulls away and places both her palms over your neck. “He’s gone. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

It takes a while before you’re nodding along, repeating her words gently.

“You’re more than the pain he inflicted. You’re more than his name or crimes. You’re worth more than his impact ten times over. He can’t hurt you anymore. I know everyone’s gone, and we’re going to fight like hell to bring them back, but in this little moment, this little thread you can pull - pull it all out - he can’t hurt you anymore.”

She’s all muscle and bone and blood and real. What would you do without Natasha?

     The grass beneath your bare feet calms you down. It’s tendrils are a little ticklish and there are droplets of silver morning water fog melting as they touch your skin. Focusing on the feeling isn’t enough to get you out of your own head and for a wild second, you think the God of Thunder is going to come up behind you and hold your hand. It’s peaceful out here, but what you wouldn’t give to see him again. 

The day before Steve and Carol returned the stones, he had been here. He did as he promised: the second the flood of happiness extinguished like a Christmas candle, he found you settled in the mass of pillows with only instrumental music playing. He left for two cups of tea, sat in silence with you as you both drank, and whispered a strangled ‘I’m sorry’ as if you weren’t meant to hear it. Apologizing for someone who did come back, and you for someone who didn’t. 

‘You know I don’t regret what we did. We brought everyone back.’ 

‘Don’t try and justify your sadness. Not at all, not with me.’ His voice was stern and his eyes serious.

‘I’m sorry he didn’t come back.’

His eyes had closed, as if he was expecting that apology, and he looked out the window where the sun was just barely rising, shining on him and him alone. ‘I’m sorry, too.’

There are footsteps, though. Heavy ones, footsteps that announce his upcoming presence on purpose so as to not startle anymore. Bucky was too generous for his own good. 

“Had a visitor.”

You remain silent as Bucky sits next to you, looking up from his spot and expecting you to sit as well. “There’s water on the grass.”

“There’s water in the air in this godforsaken state, now sit down.” A push of laughter escapes your lungs but you follow his instructions anyway. 

You sit in silence for a few minutes, admiring the way the pine trees bend slightly with the gusts of wind and how the birds have changed their pitch. You expect Bucky to speak first so you occupy that time by playing with the strands of wet grass. 

“In 1997, I was taken out of cryo for a mission.”

You wince on accident. This wasn’t how you expected the conversation to start. 

Bucky continues, “There was this man south of the border.” He points south to prove his point. “Hydra wanted to take him out because he was interfering with the drug routes they were monitoring.”

“Hydra controlled drug routes?”

“Hydra had their heads in plenty of places. They didn’t control them, but they did monitor them.”

You shake your head in understanding. “And this man?”

Bucky sighs heavily. His eyes are focused on the gentle yellows behind the trees instead of you. “He was told to take out another man traveling through and out one of these drug routes. He made a different call.”

“Who was your visitor?”

“Maribel.”

“Wha-?” You go to stand but Bucky gently pushes your left shoulder back down. “Why are you telling me this and not her?”

“She wanted me to tell you. And I guess, in turn, you tell Steve and the rest of the team.”

“Bucky,” your voice trembles on accident. “Tell me.”

“The man I was ordered to take out was Maribel’s brother.” He chuckles at your frantic shuffling and pushes you down again. He continues, “Hey, it’s okay. She never knew him and she doesn’t hate me for what I was.”

You don’t really believe him. But his face isn’t telling you otherwise. You're stuck between wanting to dig for more information and giving him a giant bear hug. “Did you… succeed?”

“The soldier ever rarely lost.”

Your face contorts. “Bucky…”

“He disobeyed orders, Hydra didn’t like that since it disrupted the drug routes, and so I was sent to help. Hydra didn’t seem to care about the man he let go, though.” Bucky shrugs and starts playing with the grass behind your hand. “The thing was, Maribel’s brother had been doing this a long time. Ernesto was on Hydra’s radar but in a good way. Maribel’s brother was also given very specific orders from one other person - their mother.”

The story pieces are all discarded haphazardly, pieces that are from different boxes and don’t seem to entangle properly. 

“She told him to let the man go. Because this man was an American, and killing an American on Mexican soil was something that was impossible to hide from the claws of the law. So, this American made it back on US soil safely and was never heard from again. Until 1998, when he tried to re-enter Mexico under a false name but with one purpose. To see his newborn baby girl.”

The yellow behind the pine trees fades into orange. 

“Are you saying-?”

“Maribel’s mother kept everything your mother left her when she tried to cross the border herself. Your real birth certificate, her real birth certificate, you.”

Bucky looks over finally, sad smile and all. “Maribel thinks, and now I think, that Ernesto isn’t your real father.”

There are so many questions formulating at the base of your skull that you don’t really take the time to absorb the news. “What did she bring you? What was in those papers?”

Bucky seems startled that your reaction wasn’t one of shock. “Like I said, Maribel’s mother kept a lotta things.” He pauses momentarily before speaking again. “Blood results was one of them. Still trying to authenticate them.  The American was a doctor, after all.”

“A doctor,” you whisper. 

“A doctor. He changed his name but he’s alive. Maribel’s checked.”

“Why would she tell me this now? Why now just hours before the wedding? Isn’t that why you guys didn’t tell me about what was really in the shipment?”

Bucky winces and his expression tells you he’s sorry. 

You continue, “Why now? Why does it even matter anymore?”

He inspects you quickly, scanning your features for any signs of discomfort. “You’re okay? I thought this would surprise you more.”

The chuckle you release is dry, kind of harsh. “It actually answers a fuckload of questions. Like, number one, why he fucking hates me.”

His eyebrows scrunch together. “You think he knows?”

“If he doesn’t, then he’s a super fucking asshole instead of just a fucking asshole.”

Bucky pauses again and smiles up at the sky. The clouds are white and extra large today, and he suddenly remembers the taste of that mini popcorn he had bought and shared with his little sister Becca… Becks… while watching Snow White and the Seven Dwarves at the theater. The salt and butter had stuck to Becca’s fingers and she had wiped them on Bucky’s sweater. He remembers scolding her for that but giving her a napkin in between his giggle fit. He feels the same swell in the meat of his heart listening to you. “We don’t deserve you. You’re like the moon. Always there, shaping yourself into what that person needs, crater after crater beat into you and yet, you move the tides.”

The little snort that leaves your nose hurts a little. “That’s pretty damn poetic for this moment of ‘you’re not the father!’”

Bucky bites his lip and smiles toward the yellow and orange hues. “Like the moon.”

      The hotel had replaced the door, no questions asked. The reason Sam decided to bust open the door instead of using the very functional key you had given Torres? No one knows. But the poor receptionist was told that you couldn’t possibly change rooms because this was top secret business and you absolutely wanted to slap Scott upside the head for worrying her. So they fixed the bolts and gave you all new keys. 

Didn’t matter much anyway since you weren’t sleeping here tonight. You had already packed and made the beds. 

You lay your dress and Steve’s dress attire on the respective beds. The dress sent over was a backless red silk, spaghetti strapped and slit on the left side - you’ve wanted to wear it since it arrived when Scott did. 

Steve knocked before entering the room. You almost laughed at the gentlemanly aspect of it. “Thought for sure they’d have kept you for another hour at least.”

“I gotta change sometime. That your dress?” Steve shrugs off his uniform and climbs on top of his freshly made bed.  

“That’s my dress. Sort of skimpy for a wedding, no?” You hold it up to show him the front and back.

“Does ‘skimpy’ mean bad?”

“Means slutty.”

He gives you this disappointed look, like he’s judging your vocabulary. “I wouldn’t use that word. So no.”

You silently apologize and move the dress over to the end of your bed. Everyone else was also getting ready for tonight. Agents were posing as local police, many infiltrated the wait staff, suits were being double-checked for any malfunctions. There was so much going on, but all was relaxed in your room. Steve smiles at you from his bed, head resting in his palm as he leans up to stare at you. It’s impossible not to blush under his stare, so you move to climb into his bed. You lay down with your feet to his head, the sides of your hips pressing together; just two upside down puzzle pieces. He chuckles and goes to lay on his back, right arm coming up to lay rested on top of your right thigh. 

“All this week I thought I wasn’t ready.” You’ve had no more nightmares. “But I am. I’m ready to end this.”

He runs his fingers delicately along your thigh. “I’m ready to help.” He sighs deeply and cranes his neck to try and meet your gaze. “We’ll make sure they get maximum time.”

“You know that’s not our call.”

“Still.”

You rest for another few minutes, gentle touches calming you. His body is so warm, emitting sweet thoughts like the beginning of spring heat, and it’s impossible not to curl up into it. Steve breaks the comfortable silence, “What are you thinking about?”

You suck in a breath and tell him the truth. “That in the matter of like… five days, you and I are basically lovers now.”

“Lovers?”

“Lovers.”    

He laughs out loud and goes to sit up.  “I intend on taking you out when we get back home.”

Lifting your head, you rest on your elbows and grin at him. “Oh? And where are you planning on taking me?”

He thinks for a second before pressing his lips together and giving up. “I have to ask Peter or Wanda. I have no idea where you go during the day to eat.”

You laugh, “Seriously? I could’ve sworn you tagged along once or twice.”

“Nope. I always refused.”

You frown slightly, “Riiight.” Not wanting to rehash the reasons why, you try to soften any wrong feelings about what that implies. “I’m sure you’ve been, though. I take Bucky places, too. Ask him.”

“Mmm, I have my pride. Can’t have Bucky thinkin’ he knows more about my girl than I do.”

You smile largely now and hope no lipstick rubbed off on your teeth. “Your girl?”

Steve averts his eyes like he’s just now asking for your name and if you’d like to go dancing. There’s a beautiful scarlet glow painting his pale cheeks. “Like I said, I’m taking you out and asking properly.”

“We’ve already surpassed third base. I remember it vividly.”

His smile falls comically and he turns to grab a throw pillow to smack you with it a couple times. “Crude! Crude as always. Goddamn.”

“I’m sorry! Hey, I’m sorry!” 

He stops his attack and pulls you into his chest. He warms your back instantly. “So, you’ll let me take you out?”

“I really, really like french fries,” you hum lightly and tilt your head back to lean into his shoulder. 

“That narrows it down, thanks.”

You chuckle due to his sarcastic tone. He rubs his hands up and down your arms. An idea formulates while in the warmth of his body. “You know what I really want to do after we finish with this?”

“What’s that?”

You tell him honestly. “Rent a cabin. Spend a Christmas there, maybe. Catch some fuckin’ fish. Experience the snow properly.”

His eyebrows furrow like he’s dissecting such a claim. “I… wasn’t expecting that.”

You shrug, “Sounds cool though, right?”

“Got room for one more?” He looks down to meet your gaze and there’s a glint of hope shimmering in the blue of his eyes.

       “Nat… Natasha.”

Natasha took in a sharp exhale as she lifted her head from the desk, left cheek numb and pink. Steve shot her a funny grin and continued shaking her shoulder until she fully opened her eyes. She slaps his hand away with a huff of laughter. 

“Come here to do your laundry? You know, there’s only so many times I can help prevent shrinking shirts.”

Steve scoffs, “I used to do laundry by hand. I can figure out a few buttons.”

“You would think.”

Steve rolls his eyes and bumps her shoulder with the palm of hand before speed-walking into the kitchen. “It’s one of those days.” He opens the high cabinets and pulls a few vodka bottles. 

Natasha pushes down whatever was starting to eat at her. She calms her deep breaths and rises from her chair. No words needed to be exchanged. She makes her way over to pull two glasses from the same high cabinets. 

Steve watches her a little hesitantly, but she has that lopsided smile that pinches through only one cheek and her eyes are the slightest bit swollen from her power nap, and Steve breathes a sigh of relief. She tilts her head to the other side of the kitchen, that lopsided grin gracing her bare feet. Steve fumbles through a few cleaning supplies and some plastic bags before he finds the bottle. 

“I hid it after… after Thor had that meltdown a year ago.”

Now, he was second guessing. It was a small bottle, only half left, but half a bottle of Asgardian liquor was enough to knock the God on his knees. For Steve, a few sips would do the same. But he needed it, he needed it, god help him. It’s been four years, he needs it. “Be my designated driver?”

“How about you spend the night? Y/N wanted to start a new show anyway.”

“I’ll be passed the fuck out during the opening credits.”

“But you’ll be here.”

Steve sighs and pops open the bottle. Natasha puts her hand up to stop him from pouring, “Check under that sink again.”

His eyebrows pinch together but he does as instructed. More cleaning products… more cleaning products. He tilts his head to look at the corners and there it was: a small, pink paper airplane taped mid-flight. Steve hunched his shoulders to grab it and crawled out carefully. “You know, you’re not supposed to tell me where you hide them.”

“Well, I felt bad! I’ve found like fifteen of your blue ones and how many do you have of mine?”

“That’s besides the point-”

“Say it. You’ve found six.”

His cheeks turn hot. “I’m not here all the time.”

“Excuses.”

“I leave mine in good spots. You probably got better eyes or something.”

Natasha laughs, loud and from her chest. “Sure. But hey - I’ll promise you somethin’.”

Steve pours the Asgardian liquor into his glass and straight vodka into Natasha’s. “What do you have in mind?”

“You find more than me by the end of this year, and I’ll take that vacation.”

Steve takes his first sip and tries not to pull a hard face. “You’re on. But what if you win?”

Natasha raises her glass and clinks it with his. He wants to apologize for forgetting to toast but her eyes are playful and forgiving. “You come with me. I’m not the only one who needs it.”

“So, I win regardless?”

She takes a sip and pulls a funny face. “Easiest battle, don’t ya think?”

They’re off their right minds twenty minutes into drinking and the common area is chaos. Pillows are thrown, the TV somehow ends up with dozens of fingerprints, and they’ve broken a couple flower pots. The cushions of the couch know Natasha’s bare feet and Steve’s boots; the walls fail to constrict their loud singing; Rhodey has already snuck past them to get himself a snack undetected. 

‘And so I cry sometimes when I’m lyin’ in bed, just to get it all out what’s in my head!’

‘Hit the high note, Rogers!’

‘When you do, I will!... I scream from the top of my lungs-’

‘What’s goin’ on? And I say, ‘hey!’ ‘hey!’ I say ‘hey!’ What’s goin’ on?’

Steve’s still clear-headed enough to twirl Natasha around. She’s flexible enough to climb onto his shoulders.

‘I pray every single day - for a revolution!’

She’s starting to slur her words and Steve wonders if that blond streak in her hair was there last week. 

‘The story of my life! I take her home, 

I drive all night to keep her warm and time, 

Is frozen!

The story of my life, I give her hope, 

I spend her love until she’s broke inside!

The story of my life.’

She can longer feel her toes but seeing Steve let go makes her so incredibly happy and breaks her heart. I needed this too, she thinks.

‘So, bye-bye, Miss American Pie

Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry

And them good ol' boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye

Singin', "This'll be the day that I die

This'll be the day that I die!”’

She’s all muscle and bone and blood and real. What would Steve do without Natasha?

     “You wanna come?”

“Sure. I’ll cut down the trees for wood. Have a real fireplace.” He’s serious, you realize. Like, really truly serious. 

Your heart swells with excitement and some other feeling you can’t quite place. But it’s good, like really good. The sigh you release is full of sweet wonder. “A real Christmas tree.”

Steve tightens his grip around your arms. “December’s right around the corner. Trees should be ready and standing tall.”

It’s almost too much to imagine. You have the sudden urge to talk specifics, to plan out this vacation. A beautiful, rustic cabin with only a coffee maker brought from the outside century, knitted quilts, real snow, Steve’s body heat, Christmas lights… inviting Sam, Scott, Wanda, Peter, and Bucky down for Christmas dinner and presents. A whole sleepover filled with ghost stories, candle burning, board games, Christmas movies. You’re up and tucking your knees under yourself to look down at Steve in an instant. “You’d throw on that checkered shirt, grow out your beard even more, and chop down a few trees for me? With me?”

“There’s nowhere in the world I’d rather be,” Steve says, eyes crinkling. For a second, he’s worried you’ll realize that he’s quoted your letter. But that same moment, you’re giggling with excitement over your future plans.

“Well, we lasted a week here without killing each other. The holidays always hold a few surprises.”

Steve picks up another pillow.

       Business is not conducted during the church service. It feels normal, with half the guests attending the service and watching the happy couple exchange vows, while the other half only arrives for the party. 

Jackeline’s dress is modern with a mix of vintage - simple, with long sleeves of lace and fabric that isn’t entirely white but with hints of beige; the dress dips lower in the back than it does in the front, and it’s tight near the waist but loose as it drapes down her long legs. Her hair is left loose and her make-up is heavy, and she illuminates under the sun rays that burst through stained cathedral glass. You don’t even pay mind to Ernesto and Seda seated in the aisle in front of you - not when Jackeline looks the way she does. 

As the service ends, Steve tells you to wait until most of the guests exit. The priest eyes him warily, inspecting his young face and build and obvious persona. He says nothing, but he places a gentle hand over the cross on his chest as he follows the guests out. Steve stands, and out of respect dips his fingers into the holy water provided near the heavy wooden doors. He signs the father, the son, and the holy ghost and dips his fingers in again to sign the same on you. With a silent thank you and tender wipe to your forehead, you don’t question it. He’s not Catholic, or at least you don’t think, but you know he does it for what’s to come. No matter your beliefs, he just wants something, someone, to protect you. You turn back to the cathedral and grip the door as you bend down to one knee and tip your head. 

       Everything is grander, that’s for sure. The decorations are tripled; the violet lights are reflecting like diamonds off every marble and glass surface; the chandelier’s are no longer gold sculptures but diamond; the clay flowers hanging from the ceiling yesterday are now a part of the centerpieces, squeezed in with the largest bouquet of roses and violets; the live bands (because of course there are two) are each still setting up as everyone is getting seated; and there are about fifty round tables circling the large dance floor. There’s still a nice view of the lake and the pine trees ahead, and the tarp was abandoned as there was no rain in the forecast. All in all, and there were a thousand other things you could focus on but didn’t have the energy to, everything was beautifully put together.

Jackeline wasn’t lying when she said half of Mexico was attending. Besides family, there were celebrities in attendance, famous musicians who were simply guests and not performing, family of some of the other biggest drug lords from both countries (minus Europe), and a couple politicians who dipped before the new couple even walked through the doors after seeing Steve. But Steve worked his magic like he had yesterday and had everyone eating out of the palm of hand in pure amazement. He even had a famous actress hanging off his shoulder in under three minutes. Walking away to go congratulate Jackeline, Steve doesn’t miss the quick, sarcastic flick of your middle finger aimed in his direction.  

“You’d tell me if you needed my help, right?” Jackeline asks after a while, bottom lip dripping champagne. She wipes it gingerly, careful not to smudge her pink lipstick. 

“I would if there was anything wrong,” you respond truthfully. She pauses to swallow her sip and squints. She follows your gaze to Steve, whose right arm is being tugged by a girl who looks about twelve with five multi-colored bows trailing down her french braid, and who is also trying hard not to blush at the very attractive actress he can’t seem to get rid of. 

“You’re going to stop him, aren’t you?”

You glance to your left, but it isn’t really a question. Jackeline knows. “Yeah.”

She nods and tilts her chin up, eyes still on Steve. “Make him watch as you burn it down.”  You know she’s referring to Ernesto. She continues, “Every last bit of it.”

Smiling down at your feet, you raise your glass at nothing in particular. Just to salute the night air and whoever is watching. A few seconds pass as you both watch the guests enjoy the music and appetizers. Jackeline shuffles in her heels but she doesn’t seem to want to leave your side just yet. “You run, you understand?”

She’s only momentarily startled by your words. “Okay.”

“I never meant to leave you here, Jackie. I just had to find a way out first.”

“You found a loophole,” she chuckles, but the next moment she’s serious. “There is no way out.”

“Might not be,” you admit, downing your glass in one shot. “But I know this. He can’t hurt you anymore.”     

      You don’t exchange more than a few words with Steve before he’s called by Ernesto’s men and motioned toward those massive dry lava rock doors; doors that don’t muffle sound but are strong enough to withstand a bullet wound. You watch him leave with them, and he shoots you a smile over his shoulder to simply look at you. Your eyes swell only slightly, burning the corners and blurring everything. He’s bright and brilliant, walking head first into Hell and shining like the bolts of Zeus.

Steve has faced giants before, from all backgrounds and all worlds. He has blocked their punches, taken near mortal injuries; stared them in the face with every ounce of anger and determination his cells could produce. There was always this whispered voice in his head that warned him of the last day he would pick up that shield. In 1945, the voice was loud and raging as he drove that nosediving plane into the Arctic. Over the last few years, however, the voice had quieted and let Steve ponder his fate himself. Steve swears the voice, or rather his own conscience, is getting tired. 

He listens intently, responding only when spoken to, and prays his mic is picking up every bit of this conversation. Ernesto commanded the room as he screamed orders in both English and Spanish. His men fell in line; some as determined as the old man, some quiet, some bothered. Didn’t matter what the orders were. Steve noticed the few who would glance at one another and speak their distaste with their wandering eyes. And when Ernesto would speak directly to Steve, the same men would pinch their lips into a thin line and glare. 

The shipment had arrived mid-conversation and as men were sent out to do their jobs, Ernesto kept Steve behind. I need you to stay with me until the shipment is secure and can be moved - you’re my bodyguard, Ernesto had told him, confident and only slightly bending his back in discomfort from the weight of the day. Steve agrees, and hears Bucky mention how they have eyes on the shipment from the sky. 

Steve stays by Ernesto’s side even when Ramirez is called in. He’s prepared for a bloodbath, for two big men to cement their graves in this tiny office, but it doesn’t happen. Or at least, it doesn’t happen yet. Ernesto regards Ramirez as an old friend and finally trusts him enough to tell him what the shipment contained. Steve isn’t surprised, however, when Ernesto takes nasty satisfaction at Ramirez’s horrified expression. Because even though Ramirez had already known, the confirmation adds a multitude of terror. Steve can feel his palms sweating. 

As expected, Ernesto tells Ramirez that he plans to use his lands for his gain. The safe thing to do would have been to agree, to nod along, and to live in the knowledge that the shipment most likely wouldn’t head out. But Ramirez, for some reason Steve can’t fathom, stands up and says no. 

Steve understands now; the odd shaking of your shoulders even when your face was completely blank and emotions calm. He watches the beads of sweat drip from Ernesto’s forehead onto the tip of his nose; he watches the way his chest heaves as his voice becomes louder; he watches until he can’t take anymore and he enlarges the shield with Scott’s tech and tells Ernesto to move away from the other man. Steve understands now - the man really is scary, even if he wants to admit it or not.

      “You really are a phenomenal actor.”

Swaying slowly, you try not to step on Seda’s feet as he guides you across the dance floor. The music is calmer than it was five minutes ago, the guests are enjoying dinner and conversing, and Steve had told you fifteen minutes ago that he would be right back. Ernesto had sent you a malicious wink, but you knew better. Steve’s name was written in blue and Ernesto’s real target had to be you. 

“Acting with what? Acting that I enjoy this dance? Acting like I respect you?” Your upper lip twitches into a teasing smile. “Or acting like I don’t know it was you who planted that bomb?”

He matches your smile, looking down at you with a glint in his eyes. His grip around your waist tightens. “Acting like you’re really on our side.”

Lowering your voice just a fraction, you lean in, top of your head level with his chin. “I’m on Ernesto’s side. You almost had me and my Captain blown up.”

His left hand is settled on your shoulder and he uses the opportunity to dig his nails in. All around him, his men are watching. “How did you get away?”

You give a dry laugh. “You think that was my first bomb? It was childsplay.”

Seda scoffs, “You speak of this Avenger business like I don’t know who you are. You’re still that scared little girl who hid in her room when alien’s fell from the sky.”

“I may be. But there’s a difference between you and I. I actually stared them in this face and won.”

“The second time, maybe”

Sticks and stones, but goddamn did those words always hurt. Blame goes a long way but you and your team are used to keeping it close to home. “Why do you want me dead?”

His scowl deepens and the wrinkles by his eyes crinkle over each other as he squints down at you. “The Avengers are not secretly on our side. Tony Stark never was but Ernesto loves to tell people otherwise. Same about your Captain. You’ve been playing us for years.”

“What evidence do you even have? For years, we’ve done nothing but clear the roads for you,” you say, shaking your head in disbelief. 

He unwraps his arm from around your waist and sets both hands around your upper arms. He’s pressing down as hard as he can but still loose enough not to draw unwanted attention. He breathes a sharp exhale, and the puff of air hits your cheeks. “I don’t know what happened to my men after you got what you deserved. They were good men and just like that, erased.” He smirks. “I know you had something to do with it.”

A guest with bright red hair laughs loudly to your side as she is twirled around by her partner. It’s not as vibrant as you’re used to, but you still imagine that lopsided smile you hadn’t seen in forever. “Does it matter? You know what they did, so why is my hypothetical revenge chastised?”

“Tell me right now that none of your Avenger friends did your dirty work. Tell me your Captain’s hands are clean.”

“I promise you, my Captain is clean.” Seda doesn’t show any signs of believing you. Still, your mouth twitches into a mocking smirk. “But our once mutual friends Tony and Natalia tell another story.”

“Am I supposed to believe that two people who are dead are responsible for this? Ironic,” he grits his teeth.

You repeat, clear and true. “My Captain is clean.”

He fakes a tiny gag but you know he means his disgust. “You turned over so quickly for him. For the heroes who destroyed the world. Pathetic.”

“You really need to stop underestimating me,” you practically order, voice full of warning and annoyance. 

Seda continues, “Following orders from a fascist. Following orders from a country that only does harm.”

He turns you around as the dance instructs, a half-hearted waltz that didn’t have a beginning, middle, or end. You take that second to scan your surroundings and weigh your options. “I agree about the country part. But I don’t follow orders from the country, I follow them from my Captain.”

You’re facing him again and in those hellish eyes you see truth. “No, he’s a symbol of everything we hate. Of everything we need to destroy.”

“Touch Steve and I’ll blind you.”

His feet stop mid-step, as do yours. His eyes widen only a little, but it’s all the ammunition he needs. “I knew it.”

It’s barely a whisper, a tickle from a single strand of hair, but you catch it. No longer keeping it a secret, or rather a secret you didn’t care that you let slip, Seda now knows it was all a lie. All this time you had never referred to Steve as anything other than your Captain.

You feel the blunt head of a .22 press against your abdomen as Seda laughs, “You never could get a mission right.”

Twisting his arm and knocking the gun from his loose grip with your wrist was easy. So was catching the gun mid-air and elbowing him in the ribs. Seda falls to the floor in a state of shock, instinctively gripping his chest. You aim the gun at him and like you’ve seen in the movies, place the tip of your heel just below where his belly button would be. He releases a sharp breath and his eyes are challenging, practically begging you to dig deeper and get on with it. 

You can hear the screaming and frantic murmuring from the guests surrounding you and the leveling of guns from Seda’s men. But you’re focused on the man trying so hard not to quiver beneath you, his nasty grin spreading wider. 

“You’re alone,” he bites. “Your Steve is helping Ernesto right now, no? You’re alone.”

Your grin forms slowly, and you’re counting down the seconds you have until his men start firing, but you lean your upper body down slightly to make sure he hears you. “That’s never been a problem before. Don’t you remember?” You click back the safety as discreetly as possible. “I was trained by the Black Widow herself.”

You quickly raise the gun to shoot the closest of Seda’s men in between his collarbones, effectively starting the bloodshed. You jump out the way in a flash, rolling across the floor and behind a table. Tipping the table over is easy and it seems like a smart idea at first, until you realize the tables are all glass. The tablecloth had covered that detail, which sucks like hell, because now the bullets are shattering through and you’re forced to kick yourself away and run behind the pillars instead. The heels are kicked off at the same time you’re fishing underneath your dress. 

A stray bullet hits the pillar’s side making you squeal. It makes you work faster, though. 

Once you find the secure nano-tech ‘button’ (as Scott liked to call it), you strip as quickly as you can and slap the button on your bare shoulder. The nano-tech spirals and threads into itself as intricately as frost spreads on a window, shielding you in both metal and kevlar. 

When a storm of bullets hits the pillar and cracks the marble, you’re forced to crouch and hope Seda’s .22 and the myriad of weapons you’re now equipped with are enough. Before your thoughts can creep into a ‘last man standing’ mode, a roar of wind sweeps across the estate and between the cracked pillars, causing your loose hair to slap your face and blind you for only a second. Quickly putting your hair up and pulling the metal batons from the back of your suit, you’re met with the best sight - one that was a little late, in your opinion. 

“Kind of you to show up!” 

Sam ignores your quip as he flies into three men at once, feet first with his wings extended with the might of a guardian angel. He immediately shields runaway guests who were caught in the middle. He takes the ones on his left, you take the ones on his right. 

You let them swing first. They’re fast and pulling their punches and are clearly aiming for the end result of sticking you to the ground. But you’re quicker and deflect the punches. You manage to deliver a solid punch upward to crack the nose of one. As he reaches up as instinct, his ribs are open season. 

He falls out cold easily after your batons do their damage and the next man isn’t nearly as fast as the first. He doesn’t move enough to his right to avoid the harsh kick to his sternum. Each ambitious kick to the chest seems to demolish the man’s protective wall he’s trying desperately to keep intact, but once you give your legs a break and switch back to the batons, he doesn’t stand a chance. There are bullets raining across the venue, but Sam is shielding you and deflecting them elsewhere. It allows you the freedom to rip into whoever you think deserves it. 

You’ve got two men on your tail and after knocking their weapons from their hands, it seems like a fairer fight. The first doesn’t step back far enough to avoid your roundhouse kick and he falls hard on his ass, gasping for a lick of air. The second is closer, however, and manages to wrap you in a chokehold. Releasing yourself to fall deadweight for only a second, gravity tricks him and you use the momentum to kick up and fly over his shoulders. It’s hard to do without a wall to propel yourself off of. But your abs and thighs are clenched and you don’t quite think you’ll actually end up on this guy’s shoulders but you do. You don’t dwell on that moment of personal pride, though. Tightening your thighs, you use your upper body weight to lean downward and wring his neck. Once he’s down, you sweep your leg around across the floor to trip the other man who was just barely standing back up. With the .22, you fire point blank. 

Detaching yourself from the gore has never been much of a challenge. Eyes rolling back and clouding, limbs dangling limp after having just been full of life, bodies thumping against the floor after eating your bullets - you don’t so much as grit your teeth anymore. 

Sam is dealing with his own mess closer to where that poor cake is now destroyed, vanilla filling exposed and now two stories instead of four. The other cakes are no better. Sam pulls the trigger once more at someone charging at him and he averts his eyes. Sam, however, clenches his jaw. 

“Where’s Seda?” you shout, firing at men who are jumping out from behind tables but giving away their location before they even surprise you. 

“Lost him. I think he’s heading over to Steve!”

You look over the room and pray everyone got out safely. There are no civilians lying in their own puddle of blood, no guests begging for help, but you can never know for sure. “We need more hands. Where the hell are Scott and Bucky?”

A storm of bullets starts crashing into the tables and pillars beside you. Trying to duck doesn’t work and you’re grazed in the left arm. Sam tackles you behind the stage, wings extending further and out bending around you. 

“I’ve been shot!”

Sam can’t help the laugh that erupts from his throat because of your dramatic tone. “You’ve been grazed. The nano-tech has already rebuilt itself.”

“I don’t care, I hate being shot. It’s not nice. I’ve been hit.”

“Dramatic.”

“Y/N?” a harsh whisper sounds from under the stage tables. Watching your eyes bulge paints a mournful expression on Jackeline’s face. Julian is right beside her, pistol out but not shooting. You wonder if he knows you’re the invader.

“What in the hell are you still doing in here? I told you to run!”

“I’m sorry,” Jackeline squeals as bullets continue firing. “Everyone crowded. I was scared so I just got down.”

“Sam.”

Sam nods, already reading your mind. You had to find Steve; you couldn’t stay here. But there’s bullets still blazing in your direction and you find yourself hopping on your ass slightly each time a bullet connects to the ground beside you. The nano-tech does great in deflecting the lead but it really isn’t an invitation to get shot more times. The graze on your arm is already starting to burn. 

“Sam is going to guide you both out of here, alright? Julian, cover her. Sam will cover you.”

There’s a war going on behind Julian’s eyes. His face does a thousand things at once as he hears your orders and the scream of guns combined, but he nods. He grips Jackeline’s waist and pulls her in close, but before they can begin crawling Jackeline turns back to you. 

“Mátalo. Okay? Para nosotras dos.” She’s got this fierce determination in her eyes and her accent is as thick as can be. 

“Okay.”

Sam relays his location over his mic and who he has behind his wings, but before he can safely guide the married couple down the stage, a new wave of men enter and open fire. Sam’s wings can only take so much, and even though they’re vibranium, his suit is not. Ducking behind the table and reloading your gun, you then lift your head over to view the scene. It’s a mess and you could surely take them down hand-to-hand if you were close enough, but you’re stranded with your batons and seven bullets and a world of automatic machinery pointed at you. 

The storm of bullets pauses and every single person looks up to the sky. You thank the Gods for no rain today because the absence of a tarp allows for the quinjet to settle over the chaos and create a much needed distraction. Sam takes his leave, wings still wrapped around your sister, and you do the same. Running from behind the stage with batons lit up and tazed, you knock out the closest men. They fall in a strangle of electricity, vibrating and convulsing as each shock travels through their veins, ultimately paralyzing them for however long it turns out to be. This gains the attention of almost everyone else but before they can train their weapons back toward you, the back of the quinjet opens. There were a few tables still standing and it seemed the super soldier liked them better than the flat floor. 

The glass shatters from the impact of Bucky’s weight, glasses of champagne and plates with unfinished meals folding onto the shards. He’s dressed in his tactical gear and a dark navy blue jacket without a trusty sleeve. Even if the arm was covered and his hair was long rather than the short length it was now, the men would certainly know who just fell from the sky. Almost immediately, the men scatter. Bucky takes them down one by one, shot after shot, and decides to use his knives for the ones who don’t run. It’s tricky, but he manages to lodge his knives in the base of the spines of those who later changed their minds. 

He catches your eye after you manage to snap the neck of one of the runners. He tilts his head toward the left and watches you run to give Steve the backup he needs. 

     The mansion seems longer, wider, just generally bigger as you rush through the rooms and halls to get to Steve. The stuffed exotic animals follow your gaze and you can’t ignore them for long. There are men following you and men leaving Ernesto. You duck behind the standing polar bear and wait until the footsteps sound farther. Checking the amount of bullets in your gun, just in case, you finally flick the safety off and run.

There’s really only one thing of importance floating around the padded confines of your skull - get Steve out. Another thing you two had in common: both sacrificial idiots. But there wasn’t any way that you would give up the chance to save his life, as he would yours. Didn’t matter if the man you were protecting him from was your father or not. It hadn’t really settled, hadn’t truly digested, and you didn’t think it ever would. Because for years, this man was your father. He was the only man with that title. He wasn’t fatherly, far from it, but he had the label and that’s what you were going to focus on. It made no difference. 

You push the office door open and start stuttering over your words. You want to ask what happened, why there’s so much blood, whose blood it is, but all that comes is a fractured series of what the hell’s? The last syllables push through with necessary force, hardly intelligible, but exhaled at last. 

Ernesto is kneeling with his head hanging low and his hands behind his back, defeated. But it isn’t Steve who’s holding a gun to the back of his head - it’s Seda. 

No, Steve is in the corner clutching at his right hip and gritting his teeth, a wild look on his face that tells you he too was blindsided. He’s hurt. He’s gasping and wincing at the slightest of movements and it ignites the flame you’ll use to burn this world to the ground. It’s splitting your fucking ribs apart. 

“Don’t move!” Seda yells, gun still locked on Ernesto’s head but eyes on you. “Put the gun down.”

“Seda-”

“Put the fucking gun down!” 

Biting your tongue, you flip the gun in your hand so it’s facing downward and move to gently place it on the table. Flicking your eyes to where Steve is, you get your answer as to why he’s been so easily shot. His massive body and shield are draped over Ramirez, who is also disarmed and pissed. 

The self-righteous idiot, you think, he’s always gotta save the little guy.

“We’re gonna talk about this like the gods we are, yeah?”

Your face pulls awkwardly, “Seda, what is happening?”

“Don’t act like you’ve been on this asshole’s side the entire time now,” Seda bites, shoving the head of the gun harshly into the base of Ernesto’s neck. “Go on, tell him.”

“The shipment was intercepted,” you tell him. But you’re not just telling Seda, no, it’s the first Steve is hearing the good news and it allows him to feel a bit of relief. “You’ve both lost.”

“What have you done?” Ernesto screams, cheeks vibrating and face red with anger. He pays no mind to the gun and dares to glare at you. “Tell me!”

The top of your lip greets a run of tears and snot and it isn’t until then that you realize your hands are shaking mid-air and your throat is closing. “My mission.”

Blood or not, this man had the power to tie your thoughts into knots. He only had this power at precious moments and sadly, this was turning out to be one of them.

Seda bites out a laugh - it’s wet and bloody and scares you half to Hell. “I’m not the only one here who wants to kill you. But I’m going to beat her to it. She brought you back, I can’t have that.”

“No!” You curse inwardly at your involuntary hiccup. “We’re not here to kill you!”

“Oh?” Seda raises the gun at you. “What’s the endgame? Que mas necesitas?”

“I don’t need anything. The shipment is intercepted. The estate is on lockdown. Your routes are down. You’re cornered. It’s over.” You let your shoulders drag just a little. “For both of you.”

Surprisingly, Seda doesn’t pull the trigger when Ernesto charges toward you. He doesn’t pull it when Ernesto wraps his hands around your throat, either. 

It’s instinct for you to hold out your hand to stop Steve from doing what he does best. He’s already halfway up and wincing with each push to help you, to rip Ernesto from your capable body, but Seda clicks the gun in his direction. Steve watches the way your arm extends, all five fingers spread in a hopeless plea of ‘don’t you sacrifice yourself for me, don’t you dare’. 

“I have done nothing but help you! I put food on the table and clothes on your worthless back! You spent my money!” Ernesto’s eyes are practically bulging and his thumbs are almost crushing your windpipe, but his placement is off. You can still breathe air, no matter how bruising his grip may be. “This is how you treat me? I should have killed you all those years ago. I should have ripped you limb by limb until your cries bled!”

“Please,” you whimper out, hand still extended toward Steve and the other attempting to push Ernesto by the chest. 

“Please? Please? Te voy a matar aquí, ahora, porque siempre te lo mereciste!”

You let out a strangled scream and are about to fight back. To save yourself and to end Steve’s suffering of watching you suffer, of watching his newfound hope dwindle right before him, when a gunshot erupts. Everyone screams, ears ringing, and there’s blood splattered all over your cheeks and neck, spots and leaks that trail down into the collar of your bodysuit. A heavy weight lands on you and knocks you back into the shelves. You hold Ernesto’s now limp body as best you can, knees locking painfully. There’s a massive hole where the top of his head should be and for the first time in years, you have to look away to keep from throwing up. 

“Dejalo.”

You open and close your mouth but regret it when the taste of copper lands on your tongue. You follow Seda’s order and drop Ernesto to your feet, the thud sending a shiver up every single one of your vertebrae. 

“Por qué hiciste eso?” you ask him, voice small. You choke on another hiccup. 

“Don’t lie to me and say you weren’t going to do it yourself.”

You look over at Steve. His eyes are just as wide as yours and the same red specks, now turning brown, are tainting the flush pink skin of his beautiful neck. 

“No,” you whisper. Steve hears your lost accent returning and it clutches at his heart. 

“It was for the best.” Seda marches over to grab Ramirez by the tie, ripping him up from the ground and pointing the gun to his head. Steve lunges forward and Seda fires another bullet into the same hip. 

“No!” Your throat is raw, scratched, and Steve hits the floor in another heap of muffled groans. Seda returns the aim on Ramirez. 

“Imagine my surprise when I saw this one confronting Ernesto with your Captain. Imagine my fucking surprise when I tried to find all our passports, all our files, and nothing was here! Imagine my surprise when I saw that fucking idiot White being taken away by one of your agents!”

“Seda, please.” You were never much of a negotiator. It was always go in and let the others do the talking. Steve was the talker, he was the negotiator, but he was out of his element. He was always the enemy to Seda. He could never convince him otherwise. 

“You’ve given me new purpose,” Seda grins and Ramirez is rather calm in his arms, like he accepts this. “Look at the crime scene. I’m using the gun Ramirez got from your team. My men are still loyal.”

He pauses and smiles with all teeth, blood in between most of them. “You shot Ernesto. You shot your Captain. You shot Omar.”

The frightened look on your face seems to fuel him even more. He continues, “We’ll never stop hunting you.”

“Try it,” Steve manages, standing up again and vaguely registering the flash of light to his right. His shield is no longer there. “You’ll have to kill me to win. You’ll have to kill all of us to win. Me, Y/N, Omar, Sam.” He breathes in deep but smiles. “The Winter Soldier.”

You swear Seda’s face pales but his grip around Ramirez’s waist only tightens. “Easy.”

“It won’t be,” you finally say, voice no longer wavering. There’s no plausible way Seda could win. But one thing is fact: whether they’re Seda’s or Ernesto’s men, they’ll never stop hunting you now. “You lost, Seda.”

All stills but there are shouts and the ring of gunshots still echoing near the lake. 

“No,” Seda looks to you and to Ernesto’s body. “I didn’t.”

He aims the gun at you and fires. 

Steve’s wail is grease to the fire in your soul and you accept whatever pain might hit. There’s space and then there isn’t. There’s emptiness and then there’s a space being filled by that horrid but lifesaving shield. There’s no one and then there’s Scott, blown up to his regular size with shield in hand and in front of you. The bullet bounces off the shield easily and hits the wall. You’re pushed into motion and in about two seconds, you’ve grabbed your gun again and do not hesitate to fire. The bullet hits Seda in his exposed chest and Ramirez fumbles to get the gun from him. Seda hits the floor and no one else follows. 

The shot hits its target perfectly. Seda doesn’t so much as stutter. 

“God,” Scott grumbles, eyes trying to focus on anything other than the pools of blood. “Was I late?”

You don’t pay any mind to Scott and rush over to Steve, where he’s barely holding himself up with his hip tilted on the edge of the desk.  “Steve? Steve. Did he hit anything important?”

“Besides the fuckin’ meat of my stomach?”

There isn’t a way to see beneath the kevlar, but your fingers have a mind of their own as they try to dig in. “You know what I mean.”

Steve huffs a laugh and gently slaps your fingers away. “No, but motherfuck me Christ, I get shot way too much and it hurts no less.”

“Was the shield not enough? You had to sacrifice your one-hundred year old hips? Are you hit anywhere else?”

“I was caught off guard. What about you? I heard over the mics that you were shot and-”

“Are you two done?” Scott interrupts, clearing his throat awkwardly but half a mind still paying attention to his own mic. 

It’s like you’re snapped back to reality. There’s not only Steve but others, alive and dead, and the smell of copper is all too familiar.  “Sorry, I’m still in shock. I don’t really know how to proceed from here.”

“Y/N-” Scott tries, but you resume.

“We were supposed to arrest them. Just arrest them.”

“Okay, I think we should get you outta here,” Steve acts like he’s the one guiding you, but his weight is falling. You faintly register a phone ringing in the room but Steve, ever so persistent, is still acting like he is holding you up. He lunges forward with a sharp wince, and your hand immediately goes to his hip. 

“Captain.”

Ramirez lowers his phone, call ended, and he wears an expression Steve recognizes immediately. It’s an expression that looks all too similar to Dugan’s when he relayed the news of enemy forces breaching their base. “...How many?”

“They’ve already sent the news to their men in Mexico.”

“Have they shut down the border?”

“It wouldn’t make a difference.”

“They don’t know two of their men are dead, so we can-“

Scott shakes his head, shield still in hand with specks of blood drying on the blue stripe. “They know White was arrested. That’s all they need. They’ll assume the rest, the worst.”

You sigh, “Seda was right.”

Scott literally pouts and he looks like he wants to wrap you in his arms. “No, don’t send yourself there.”

Steve, however, agrees with you. “If they know about White, then they know about Omar. Seda had time to tell his men.”

“Then we make sure he’s arrested and taken to a secure facility. We can keep an eye-” Scott starts, but you shut him down quickly.

“He’s wanted by the US government, not the Avengers. We can only transport him. We can’t guarantee his safety.”

Ramirez gives a small smile. “Mija, voy estar bien. No te preocupes.”

“I don’t know.”

Scott looks between the three of you. He places the shield against the wall near the door. He raises his eyebrows at Steve and looks to his wounds, but Steve waves him off. Reluctantly, Scott nods. “I’m gonna go check on Sam.”

There’s a pool of blood near your boots. You don’t want to know if it’s from the dead or from Steve.  

“Doll, what are you thinking?”

He can’t hurt you anymore. “That I need you to go, too.”

Steve forgets about the pain in his hip and focuses solely on you. “What?”

“Go. If there’s one more thing you can do for me and my reckless family, go check on Sam.”

“You know I can’t leave you here alone with him.”

Your voice is steady and calm and it’s scaring Steve. It’s scaring him. “I promised myself that you wouldn’t be hurt by this mission. I stand by it.”

“I promise, Captain, I have no resentment. Whatever she does, I will follow,” Ramirez speaks, and Steve doesn’t even pay him a glance. 

“I can’t just go.”

“Steve,” you interlock your fingers behind his neck. “Please. Listen to me.” He looks so confused, a million questions flying through his mind and almost escaping those sweet pink lips. Fierce, you whisper for only him. “He can’t hurt me anymore. He can’t hurt me anymore.”

He relishes the feeling of your soft hands behind his neck. They’re bloody, but yours. His neck is bloody, but you don’t seem to care. “Two minutes.”

“Two minutes,” you confirm.

He pulls from your hold and turns to leave. He picks up the shield. Before he leaves, he grips the doorway and looks over his shoulder, eyebrows pinched and jaw tense. “Two minutes, I swear to Almighty Christ, Y/N. I’m coming back for you.”

You smirk, the dim light from the office lamps creating nothing short of a sparkle in your eyes. “I don’t expect anything less, Rogers.”

Steve hesitates for a moment and then he walks away. Once his footsteps are no longer heard, you turn back to Ramirez. There’s a voice in your head telling you this was a bad idea and that you were an idiot to have your back turned on him for so long, but Ramirez is simply leaning on one of the chairs and grimacing at the bloody scene before him. 

“Remember when Ernesto bought you that car when you were thirteen? And then another when your brother crashed it?”

Your nose pinches, “I don’t feel like reminiscing when he’s lying right there.”

“Do you remember what you told me when he bought you that second car? The sports one?”

You sigh. Ramirez was clearly going to continue speaking. “‘No lo quiero. Soy una niña. Get rid of it.’”

“And I did.”

“You did.”

He smiles, and for the first time you notice all the gray hair dusting his head, the most by his temples. There's a limp in his step too but you can’t remember if he had before or after the wedding. “I’ll get rid of this.”

“What?” you blink, unsure if you heard him right.

“I’m already a traitor. If I spin this, you can continue the mission. You can arrest even more of his men. They’ll come after me instead of you.”

It’s what he’s been trained to do. It’s what he’s done since he transported his first shipment. It’s what he’s done time and time again for Ernesto, for Seda, for some of his own careless men. He’s numb to it, just as you were a few days ago, but now you can’t stop thinking about the aftermath. Where would he put their bodies? Would they be buried here or back in Mexico? Would people really care if Ernesto was dead? They didn’t seem to care when he was snapped out of existence. But Ramirez has this sag in his shoulders that tells you he’s already calculating the best way to wrap the bodies and how deep he plans on sending them… or burning them. Burning them was always easier. 

“They’ll come after your family. Your daughters.”

He shakes his head, “I’ve ensured their safety. They’re safe.”

Against your better judgement, you tap your mic discreetly and turn it off. “I can’t let you take one for the team.”

He chuckles, “I’m a part of your team? I’m an Avenger?”

You can’t help but laugh with him. It’s not a light moment, but it’s a moment nonetheless. “Sure, Omar. But we don’t trade lives.”

“I had this coming.”

“No, you didn’t. You don’t.” Straining your ears and shutting your eyes, you mumble a quick prayer in hope that this plan of yours worked. You pass Ramirez your own gun and speak low. “Go.”

He’s shocked and he stutters. “Que haces? Que esta pasando?”

“There’s no one on the east side right now. All the guests were moved to the front. It’s clear. But not for long.” Pushing him to the door, you make sure he’s not leaving any bloody footprints behind. He’s clear. “Go.”

“This will kill us both.”

“But it will give us a head start.”

“No puedo hacer eso! No quiero hacer eso.”

“Omar, they’re not going to protect you once you’re charged. I can’t protect you then. So I need you to go.” You reach into your suit and pluck that random Roman coin you had stolen just a few days earlier. It was a token of good luck but you didn’t need it anymore. You avoid looking at the carving for fear that the likeness to Steve will make you change your mind. You place it in Ramirez’s hand and clench his fist shut.  “If there’s one thing you can do for my stupid, anti-hero mentality, go.”

“Que hago con esto?”

“No me llamas. But let me find this.”

He looks at you with pity. It’s so much pity and understanding for your situation that you have to look away. “I owe you my life.”

Eyesight now on the wall over his shoulder, you offer him a thin smile. “You wouldn’t be the first.”

He stumbles at first, unsure if this is really happening, and finally passes by. “Y/N.” 

You figure it’d be pretty rude not to answer. You turn slowly. He continues, face somber and head shaking with so much pity. “The amount of Hell that’s coming...”

It’s funny, really. You shoot him that famous smile you were known for. It tricks him like it’s supposed to. “I’m already going to Hell for the lives I’ve taken and the crimes I’ve committed. But the journey to my fate has been worth it.”

     The estate is being swept as quickly as possible. There are agents dressing wounds, reading rights, snapping photos, on the phone, etc. It’s organized chaos and there’s so much happening but it’s never impossible to catch Steve’s side profile in a crowd. His nose is pinched up and he’s dealing with his wounds himself. No one is even looking at him. 

Speed walking to him, you hook your arm in his and turn him around. He’s too tall, and your toes strain as you rise on them, but you wrap your arms around his neck anyway. He returns the gesture and squeezes you as hard as you’re squeezing him. After a few seconds, he whispers quietly.

“Where’d Ramirez go?”

If he saw your eyes, he would know you were lying. You keep your arms in place. “He got away.”

He tries to push you away but fails. “Y/N.”

“He got away,” you repeat. Slowly, regretfully, you pull back.  “We should go.”

There’s a horrible crease in between his eyebrows and he knows he’s caught you in a lie, but he also knows that if there was one thing he knew most about you, it was that you were just as stubborn as he was. Quick with wit, always asking to be punched, and stubborn to the point it made strangers worry. So he doesn’t question it, and turns with you in the direction of the jet.  “Maribel has the safehouse set up. Montana.”

“You sure you can make it to the jet? Should I get Bucky to come with us?”

The quinjet is empty except for a few supplies, a medical bag, and Friday. There are only two seats and by the way Steve’s bending over to show his true pain, you’d be flying it. Once you land, you can fish out those bullets.

“No one else.” Steve bites. He can’t risk anyone else - hell, he doesn’t even want to risk you. “I’ll protect you.”

You board the jet and watch as the trees sway in rhythm to the movements of everyone doing their job. It’s dark, and you push the fact that you’re so horribly night blind to the back of your skull, and it’s starting to eat away at you that the mission didn’t really go as planned. No one seems to notice yet that you never brought them the two main players they were hoping for. It only makes you close the quinjet faster. You sit Steve down in one of the seats and kneel before him. “And I you.”

If anyone asked, Steve would lie and say he was tearing up because of the bullets piercing his skin in half.  To protect and be protected. 

“Let’s go.”

~

TAGLIST: @dumb-ass-writer @justab-eautifulmess @supraveng @mycosmicparadise @missnighttigress​

[11paruline44]

If you were to put every major Star Wars character together in one room

(This post ignores the existence of the sequel trilogy)

So, Palpatine is a scarily competent, terrifyingly powerful villain, but do you know what I love about him? He’s so terrible to people that every major Star Wars character, be they hero or villain, hates him by the end of their lifetime. Sure, most of his life, ol’ Skeevy Sheev managed to avoid people discovering his true nature before he’d finished using them for whatever purpose he had in mind. But what would happen if all the characters knew the truth?

Imagine if the Force or some other powerful mechanism managed to pull every major Star Wars character from the timeline together in one room, immediately after their deaths. They’ve all played their parts life already and become one with the Force, but the Force has one more task for them, and deposits them all, unceremoniously, in the same place. This is a lot of heroes and villains in one spot. As they start scanning the room around them in confusion and shock, they begin to note many friends they lost, but also enemies whose presence makes them itch for a fight. But then, inevitably, each character realizes they are in the same room as thEE Darth Sidious, aka Emperor Palpatine—and that’s all it takes for them to wordlessly decide, as one, to rush him first. I mean, everyone has a grudge with him, by the time of their death. Everyone:

Anakin Skywalker/Darth Vader: While he switched to the Light Side right before death, he’s still pretty dang Dark-susceptible, despite his remorse. (And this man takes everything personally.) So, as he looks around, only to see tons of people he’d been on opposite sides of a war from, once upon a time, his temper begins to rise. Maul… Dooku… and ugh, that ragamuffin smuggler who seems to have a thing for his daughter… but then he sees Palpatine. The old wrinkled prune who he was forced to work for for decades, who destroyed his life and nearly killed his son, who Anakin/Vader literally just thought he’d killed. Anakin rushes him in a rage on the spot, no questions asked.

Obi-Wan Kenobi: Now, of course, Obi-Wan justifies everything with perfectly justifiable Jedi reasons—Sidious is a Sith Lord, the archenemy of the Jedi, and one who has taken over the galaxy and caused irreparable harm to billions of life-forms. He obviously should, strategically, not be left living any longer than can be helped. But yet… Obi-Wan truly joins the fight to kill Palpatine because of what he did to the Jedi and to his family compatriots. All of Obi-Wan’s “infinite sadness” can be traced back to him, after all.

Ahsoka Tano: She may not have known the full story, but she saw the results—Anakin became Darth Vader under Sidious’s thrall. She’s quite annoyed, since she could have sworn the sleemo had already been dealt with, years ago—but she, too, won’t ask questions if she has a chance to take him down while he’s still breathing. Palpatine is going down.

Padmé Amidala: She lived long enough to see Palpatine proclaim himself Emperor, at the very least, though she didn’t see the horrible results. But seeing everyone else’s murderous reactions—especially Anakin’s—she figures they have a good reason and gets her blaster at the ready.

Rex: This whole situation reeks of “Jedi business” shavit to him, but he won’t ever miss an opportunity to fire at the Emperor.

(Any other clone who lived past Order 66 in possession of their right mind, for that matter: It’s the Emperor! Attack!)

Count Yan Dooku/Darth Tyrannus: His final moments still ring through his head—Sidious urging Skywalker to kill him. (Skywalker, who Dooku is beginning to realize was probably his replacement.) In an instant, Dooku sets aside all other grudges to prioritize. He wants his old master dead. Nobody likes being replaced, after all, least of all—

Darth Maul. Yes, Maul sees Kenobi, his avowed worst enemy who, in his mind, just killed him, and is about to go at him first—but then he sees the sheer number of people rushing Palpatine instead, and is caught off guard. Despite himself, Maul, for once, sees some hope—a chance to take his old master down like never before. Maul, too, can be practical enough to prioritize just this once. Sidious screwed him over, too, after all—and who is Maul to ignore a chance for sweet revenge, after all.

Qui-Gon Jinn: There’s a lot of people in the room Qui-Gon doesn’t recognize, and most look older—older by far—but as multiple Jedi suddenly launch themselves at Senator Palpatine, all he has to do ask the person he’s pretty sure must be an older version of Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan responds that Palpatine is the Sith Master—and that’s that. Qui-Gon notices Maul joining the fight, and notes that once they’re done, he’ll want to take care of that problem—but he’s a patient enough Jedi to prioritize.

Asajj Ventress: Ventress also wasn’t aware of who the Sith Master was before her death, but she’s close enough to Kenobi as the fight begins to hear his answer to Qui-Gon. Palpatine is Sidious? She joins in immediately. She has an eye on Dooku the whole time, but as a former Sith apprentice, she knows how dangerous the Sith Master must be, and that he must be taken out first.

Mace Windu: You’d better believe he has a bone to pick with Skywalker, once he’s done with Palps—dude cut off his hand—but first things first? He’s got the muthafucka who electrocuted him to kill.

Luke Skywalker: At first, he’s ever so happy to see his father, Obi-Wan, and Yoda again… but seeing the Emperor again immediately brings back his worst memories. Palpatine was the ultimate evil, and regardless of whatever has caused him to live again, he shouldn’t be allowed to continue living any longer than Luke can help it.

Leia Organa: The Emperor? Leia sees him, and she’s pissed. Palpatine was everything she fought against in her young life, until he was defeated—and then she had to spend the rest of her life trying to undo his legacy of terror and despotism. Any living iteration of Palpatine must be killed, no questions asked.

Han Solo: Leia! Hey, Leia, is that the Emperor? I could’ve sworn we defeated the Empire decades ago, what the hell is going on?…. You know what, I always wanted a chance to shoot him in his ugly face. Let’s go for it.

Yoda: Bad news, the Emperor is. Failed to vanquish the Sith before, I have. But miss the opportunity to try again, I must not.

Lando Calrissian: Lando is confused. Who even are most of these people, anyway? But what the hell? He’s always hated the Emperor.

The only major characters I can think of that wouldn’t actively try to kill Palpatine wouldn’t actively stop anyone from killing him, either:

-General Grievous: As far as this guy ever knew, Palpatine was the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic, so why’d he want to protect him? Kenobi’s in the room, and he’d be of a one-track mind to go after him instead—but it’d be a bit hard to do when everyone else is gunning for Palpatine, causing quite the mess.

- Grand Moff Wilhuff Tarkin: Seeing that the current situation isn’t going in Palpatine’s favor, Tarkin would prefer to sit back and watch everything play out. He’s power-hungry enough that he’d relish in the chance to have the Emperor taken out so he could take over instead.

-Jabba the Hutt: All Jabba cares is that Han Solo and his buddies just massacred his whole operation, killing him, too. Without enough cronies to form a defense, he’d want to get out of there to avoid it happening again. The Emperor is just a side note to him—he never cared who ruled the galaxy as long as he could continue making money.

So, in conclusion:

#Murder Palpatine Squad

[megsironthrone]

Meg's Game of Tales: Tale 12

*Familiar Characters are NOT mine! The original story of "Sleeping Beauty" was written by The Brothers Grimm.*

Warnings: Sleeping Beauty AU, kissing w/o explicit consent(consent is sexy people!), magic, angst. POV switches

Pairings: prince!Edmure Tully x princess!reader

When you were but an infant, an evil mage placed a curse on you. You were cursed to die at the age of sixteen by pricking your finger on a spinning wheel. It sent your father and mother into a panic. While destroying every spinning wheel in the kingdom, the king turned to three other magical creatures in hopes they could remove the curse. They couldn't. But they were able to change it. Unfortunately, that still meant you were in danger. So even though it killed them to do it, your parents sent you away into hiding. You were not to return until after your sixteenth birthday.

*sixteen years later*

Edmure rode away from the castle, desperate to get away. After traveling for days to get there, Edmure had been immediately stifled by the planning of his wedding. To a princess he'd met once! When she was a baby and he wasn't much older! Edmure hadn't understood when he was young why the princess had suddenly disappeared and now that he was older, it didn't matter. He didn't want to marry you. Sometimes he hated being the only prince in the family.

Edmure urged his horse to stop when he reached the woods. He didn't know what he would do out here, but he needed the breathing space. He dismounted and lead his horse over to the nearby stream. After splashing water on his face, Edmure heard a sound. It was soft at first but gradually grew louder. Singing. Someone was singing.

Although he wasn't curious by nature, Edmure found it odd for someone to randomly be singing in the woods. After giving his horse a pat on the neck, Edmure followed the sound of the voice. It didn't take him long to locate the source. A woman. She was walking so gracefully, it was almost like a dance. A soft song escaped from her lips and called to him like a siren.

Edmure shook his head at himself. He'd always been something of a romantic as a younger man. It seemed that hadn't stopped as he grew older. He watched for a moment longer before deciding he was being creepy and decided to leave the young woman to her devices. Unfortunately, as Edmure moved to return to his horse, he stepped on a fallen twig and snapped it, the sound echoing through the otherwise quiet woods.

"Who's there?!" Edmure cursed under his breath before revealing himself. "My apologies for startling you, Miss. I heard you singing." The woman let her shoulders lower. "I didn't realize I was singing so loudly. I should go and leave you to your plans." She turned to leave, but Edmure called out for her to stop. He wasn't sure why exactly. Maybe he just wanted to talk to someone outside the palace life.

YOUR POV

You faced the strange man and bit your lip. You knew you should return to your cottage with your aunts, but you NEVER got to talk to anyone outside of the three of them. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you nodded and set your basket down. You followed after and patted the grassy space next to you.

Your stranger sat with only minor hesitation. From there, the two of you spoke at length. You learned your stranger was a prince. It seemed you learned so much about him in such a small amount of time. As the sun began to set, you found yourself not wanting to part from his company. Still you knew you needed to return home before it got too dark. The woods was a treacherous place in the dark.

With a sigh, you got up and brushed off your skirts. Your prince rose as well with a frown on his face. "I'm afraid I must go." You moved to leave, but he gently took your hand. "Will I see you again?" You smiled and nodded lightly. "Tomorrow is my birthday. Perhaps you could come then? I live in the little cottage in the glen." He agreed happily. You bid him farewell and quickly returned home.

The smile never left your face as you enjoyed the evening with your aunts. It even stayed as you began making your way to your bed. And when the questioned you, you didn't want to say anything. You knew they'd be upset and you'd always been a terrible liar. They kept on until you finally admitted that you met someone. "He's coming here tomorrow to meet you all." Your aunts exchanged worried glances. "I-I think you'd better sit down. There's something you need to know."

EDMURE'S POV: The next day

There was a spring in Edmure's step as he headed out. He couldn't wait to see his mysterious woman again. As he was about to ride off, Edmure's uncle stepped out. "And just where do you think you're going? The princess is returning home this evening!" Edmure grimaced. He had honestly forgotten about the princess.

"Sorry, Uncle. I shall return later, but I have an engagement elsewhere." His uncle's eyes narrowed. "This wouldn't have anything to do with your disappearing act yesterday?" Edmure tried to keep his expression neutral. "Because you are getting married," his uncle continued, "You have no time for mucking about now." Edmure clenched his fist by his side.

"Uncle, for once in my life I have something to look forward to. I met a lovely young lady. One I could see myself being wed to and happy with. I don't know the princess and I may refuse to wed her once we finally do meet. I want this one thing." Edmure's uncle scoffed. "Then take the girl on as a mistress, but you will marry the princess." Edmure watched his uncle walk away without giving him the chance to retort.

Anger coursed through Edmure's veins at his uncle audacity. His new friend was too good to be a mistress. He wouldn't do her the dishonor of even suggesting such a thing. He hoped the walk to the cottage would help him calm down enough to enjoy her birthday with her. With that hope in mind, Edmure headed out to the woods once again.

When he reached the cottage, something seemed off. The inside was dark, not even a candle in the window or smoke billowing from the chimney. Edmure drew his sword as he entered the cottage. Not that it did any good. A trap had been set. He couldn't believe it. Had she done this?

"Well, well. This is a surprise. I set my trap for a peasant and instead, I catch a prince. We have much to discuss, Prince Edmure." Edmure recognized the mage from the stories he'd heard. This was the mage that had cursed the princess. Edmure didn't have a chance to ask before he was pulled from the cottage toward the dark, towering castle that loomed in the distance. The mage didn't speak again until Edmure was chained to the walls of a cell in the dungeon of the crumbling palace.

The mage stood across from him with a smug grin. "Why am I here? What does the girl from the cottage have to do with this?" Edmure growled out. The mage looked surprised for a moment before laughing. "You haven't figured it out? She is the princess! And my curse will come to fruition tonight!" Edmure shook his head.

"No it won't! Even if she is the princess, true love's kiss will wake her!" Another dark chuckle escaped the mage's lips. "Except her true love is right here. And here is where you will remain until you are too old to make the journey back to the castle. Oh, you'll try, of course, but you will be weak. Still, you oh valiant prince will not give up. I have seen it. After all, in the case of true love, 100 years is but a day. So, you will leave here and you will make the journey. And you. Will. Fail. The princess will sleep for an eternity!" The mage's cackle echoed through the dungeons as they left Edmure alone.

Edmure's thoughts bounced all over the place. If what the mage said was true, there was no hope. But he couldn't believe that. There had to be a way to save you. Edmure sat, ignoring the clanking of the chains, as he thought of ways he could get out. He had no idea what time it was or how long until sunset. Even if he did manage to escape, who's to say it wouldn't be too late? As every hour passed, Edmure's hope began to dwindle.

Just as Edmure's positivity was running out, a small flash of light caught his attention. As he looked up, two more flashes had him blinking rapidly. When he could see clearly again, Edmure nearly jumped out of his skin. Three obviously magic-wielders stood before him.

"Prince Edmure. We've come to rescue you. The princess is already sleeping. You're the only one who can help her." Edmure stared for a moment. "But, what if I'm not her true love? What if I am?! I don't want to force this on her…on Princess Y/N…I can't believe that the girl is actually the princess."

"We really don't have time for this, my prince. We have to move before the mage discovers we're here. If we can get out without being noticed, you would not have to take on the mage without reinforcements." Edmure stood as one of his saviors used magic to rid him of the chains keeping him in the cell. They all used their magic to summon a sword and shield. Edmure felt powerful(though he was grateful they hadn't summoned a bow. He wasn't really good with those) and he felt like he really could save his mystery girl. That he could save you.

Unfortunately, Edmure's exit wasn't exactly quiet and he ended up having to handle all the mage's little minions and then the mage themselves. It took everything in him and he was certain he nearly died several times. But eventually, Edmure was victorious. He was coated in sweat and dirt, but that was the last thing on his mind. He had to get to you.

The magic-wielders, who Edmure learned were the people that raised you, told Edmure where they'd placed you. Edmure stopped short when he saw you laid out on the bed. You looked so different than you had in the woods. Still, beautiful, but different. Edmure knew what he had to do next, but he wasn't sure he wanted to. He didn't exactly have your consent in this.

With a sigh, Edmure at least decided to clean his face first. He moved to the basin and washed quickly. Once he was cleaned up, he came back over to you. "I am so sorry for this. I hope you will be able to forgive me," he whispered. Leaning forward, Edmure pressed his lips to yours in a soft and quick kiss. Your eyes fluttered open and you gave him a smile.

"I forgive you," you said softly, "But if you ever kiss me without permission again, I will hurt you." Edmure let out a relieved chuckle. "I wouldn't have it any other way, Princess." You sat up and threw your arms around him. "Thank you for saving me."

[alter-of-fire-and-change]

It’s been so many years ago I can’t tell you how old I was anymore.

What I do remember is being young and bullied and feeling cut off from everyone around me for a million small reasons and having this overwhelming pressure to not be better, but be the best, be perfect, and hating it but not knowing what else to do

What I do remember is crying alone in my room when no one could hear me and begging for a friend, someone who would understand me or just accept me as me

I can’t say it was the first time, in my memory though it stands out as the most important

I was in a loud and noisy restaurant surrounded by my family, the side I didn’t get along with by still had that desire to be liked by and seen as perfectly as they all thought I was. And I remember being acutely aware that no one was paying attention to me even though I was growing increasingly distressed and people had been talking over me and saying things about what they thought my life should be and a bunch of other things and I was spiraling into what I would later register as a panic attack

And then suddenly I felt arms around me and a voice talking me down telling me it would be okay that I wasn’t alone

I’d had imaginary friends all throughout my life growing up, it was one of the things that I blamed for my distance from other people around me. This….felt different, and yet, I had no other way of explaining it

They took the face and voice of a character in a tv show I liked, someone who was snarky and could be cruel and was supposed to be the villain but then got redeemed because they were far too caring and compassionate and I felt bad for them because of how they were treated by those around them. Many of my past imaginary friends had done the same, made from the characters I liked because i felt like I knew them

But there was something different because this one felt a lot more real and I won’t lie, it frightened me a lot of the time and I thought I was going crazy because you’re not supposed to talk to people who weren’t seen by other people and all that

But at the same time, they were the most comforting and grounding force in my life, keeping me from spiraling out of control

I remember at one point it didn’t seem like enough because I felt like the biggest outsider and I fought back against everything because they couldn’t be real and they said they were, that they didn’t really look like how they’d shown up to me and instead had red hair and green eyes

I did find myself asking once again for a friend, someone in my school who’d like me and understand me. I can’t say for certain that it was because of them or not, but after asking for this, I felt the urge to do something out of character for myself and it all happened to be right place right time right book which led me to meeting the person I’ve been dating for five or so years now and some of my closest friends for a time

There were also a lot of instances of what I referred to as “the ghost” in my house, where things would fall over or get misplaced or there’d be a strange sound, and I’d talk aloud to them or tell them I really couldn’t handle it that day and it would immediately stop. (It didn’t stop for the people who’d yell and get mad) and it followed me to my college dorm and apartment

Eventually, they began switching into shapes of other characters I was familiar with and liked, and I never had control over who it was. At some points it distressed me because they weren’t the obvious hero or good guy of the characters and tended to be the ones painted as villains or evil for some reason even if I didn’t personally see them that way because something about their story just made it so I couldn’t see them that way. They weren’t doing the wrong thing, they were just doing something that the main character disagreed with and weren’t going about it in the societally approved way even if it was for a something that’d be seen as ‘good’ or better

As the years continued they still felt more and more real and my brain was still trying to understand why that could be, if they were a self defense mechanism, why they could be so reasonable and removed from the situation, how I could so perfectly picture them next to me guiding me through an attack or feel their touch when I needed comfort

There were times were I’d realize we hadn’t talked in a while and they’d be a little annoyed and I’d beg them not to leave me despite all my words about them not being real and none of it being normal, but that would often end with soothing promises

Eventually, their form seemed to settle a bit more permanently on the MCU Loki because I’d been going through a Marvel kick—I found it a little odd of course because Loki wasn’t the main character my adhd brain had decided to hyperfixate on, but they also fit with all the other characters so I accepted it and didn’t really question the inevitable draw this had of me starting to read up on the myths and figure more

Until my roommate and I had a talk about religion and I was reflecting on the past couple months of this sudden focus

This past couple months were I word for word said that Loki had lead me to figuring out my future life plans for after college after I’d been panicking over that and trying to hide from it for a while. Or had thanked Loki for getting through an uncomfortable family visit because they’d made me laugh and kept up with my snark

Finally, after some research being half way to accepting but mostly still doubting, I sat down with my tarot cards and asked and got an extremely clear answer which had never happened with the cards before, that was basically ‘yes hi thanks for finally figuring it out’

He don’t appear as the MCU Loki anymore, instead taking on their own form most often than not

I think what changed for them to reveal themselves is me. I’d been able to think more about my gender identity and who I was as a person and had become more comfortable in time. I also got really bad one night and they couldn’t talk me down but I had somehow in the haze of that found the link to a service to help in that moment, and started getting actual help afterwards

What changed is that I started to work on myself and that was the point that meant I was ready to actually have the choice to follow Loki or not

And here I am now

[panharmonium]

I would like to add Gwaine to the list of friends Merlin had. Especially in the 3/4 seasons he really was ride or die for Merlin, they shared intimate details with each other, they truly trusted each other. There were instances where the show alluded that Gwaine knows about Merlin's magic and is fine with it.

hi there!  i’m assuming this is in response to the post i reblogged about will and lancelot being merlin’s only “real” friends?  

i’m actually happy to write about this, now that the question has been posed - it’s been a while since i wrote anything long about gwaine!

fair warning in advance: i don’t personally classify gwaine the same way i do will and lancelot, and that’s what this piece will cover in more detail, but these are just my own thoughts, and it is totally cool for everybody else to have different opinions.  my take is my take, but it does not have to be everyone’s take - if people wanna scroll past because this isn’t their vibe, i don’t mind in the slightest. :)

so, without further ado - i LOVE gwaine, and i have written extensively about how amazing his relationship with merlin is (some examples here, here, here, and here, if anybody’s looking).  he is the most likely of all merlin’s living friends to ditch arthur in the name of addressing merlin’s needs, which is super important, and he also has a much healthier friendship with merlin than arthur does (in my own personal opinion, of course, which nobody is obligated to share).  he definitely does go ride or die for merlin in S3/S4, i agree.

but my own thoughts on this particular point are still the same as they were in that original post.  i tend to hide my clarifications/explanations in the tags, so they might have flown by, but i’ll just copy/paste the relevant bit here for ease of access, as some background for the rest of this post.

re: will and lancelot were merlin’s only ‘real’ friends:

#what this does not mean: merlin has no other friends!  merlin doesn't have meaningful and important relationships with other people!   #what it does mean:  #every single one of merlin's other relationships is undergirded by the sickening knowledge that those friendships are conditional   #every single one of his other relationships is accompanied by the constant undercurrent of 'they would hate me if they knew'   #merlin knows his friends 'care' about him   #except they don't really; because it's not truly him they're caring about   #they care deeply - about someone merlin made up   #about a facade.   #in the most basic sense   #those relationships aren't Real   #the love merlin feels for the people in them is real   #but you cannot truly be 'friends' with somebody who doesn't even know who you are   #you cannot be loved without being known   #you certainly cannot be loved without being safe

obviously i suppose a person’s thoughts on this would be different if they headcanoned that gwaine knew about merlin’s magic, and that’s fine.  i personally do not believe canon indicates or supports that, but i’m not out to convince people to abandon their own fanon interpretations of things; i’m happy just hanging out in my own space talking about my thoughts.  me writing meta is the virtual equivalent of me talking to myself in my room - if other people have different conversations with themselves, that’s fine :)  i don’t mind if other folks organize their thoughts about things differently.  

in accordance with that - everybody please feel free to continue on with your own interpretations, and ignore mine if mine do not appeal to you!  if people are interested about how i organize my ideas on this, though, they are essentially as follows:

1) a cage fighter, a class traitor, and a fake sorcerer walk into a tavern

ok, to start with - here’s a graph.

(...who tf starts a meta post with ‘here’s a graph’ lol i just drew a venn diagram for the first time since like...middle school...i LOVE fandom, man, this is RIDICULOUS)

anyway

this is a very rough interpretation of how i think about gwaine, lancelot, and will:

to address some of these elements individually:

lancelot and will give merlin something that gwaine can’t - safety, authenticity, the comfort of being known and seen for real, a respite from constantly qualifying every friendship with ‘they would hate me if they knew’

lancelot and gwaine, likewise, give merlin something merlin wouldn’t be as likely to get from will (if will were still alive, i mean) - an understanding of merlin’s devotion to the Crown, a supportive ally in the fight to promote arthur’s reign and keep arthur/camelot safe

will and gwaine, for their part, are more likely to tell arthur to go fuck himself, if it’s important for helping merlin, and that’s a different kind of support that merlin also really needs.

and will, on his own, gives merlin something that neither lancelot NOR gwaine can provide, which is a friend who isn’t connected to or even particularly interested in arthur pendragon (merlin has nobody in his life like this, not after will dies) - somebody who knew and cared about merlin before merlin had any proximity to arthur, before this whole ’destiny’ issue reared its merciless head.

everybody in merlin’s life matters to him and gives him something important.  gwaine is STUPIDLY important to merlin.  the love there is real.  but in canon, because gwaine is not in the know, gwaine is still one of the people from whom merlin feels compelled to hide himself.  gwaine is right up there alongside gwen, arthur, elyan, percival, etc - every other person who merlin loves, who merlin nonetheless constantly, back-of-his-mind fears, ‘they would reject me if they knew.’

the above is part of why i personally have never been too interested in ‘so-and-so knows about merlin’s magic’ canon-imaginings.  there’s absolutely nothing wrong with them, and i’m sure people must have tons of fun with them - and in an AU context maybe i would have fun with them too - but as hopeful interpretations of actual canon, they don’t appeal to me.  merlin’s near-total isolation and desperate, constantly-frustrated desire for real, honest love is an inalienable aspect of his character for me, one i can’t separate from who he is and why he does the things he does and why he eventually ends up in the place where we find him towards the end of the show.  

2) i just want someone to see me for who i am

i have seen a bit of sentiment out there along the lines of ‘merlin should have told (x person) about their magic’ or ‘(x person) obviously doesn’t have a problem with sorcerers,’ but i guess i personally don’t think it’s as clear as all that, and i think me saying it is would be doing merlin a disservice.

merlin’s desire to be seen/known/accepted is literally the most base urge he has.  if he truly thought he could tell somebody safely, he would.

i think merlin knows the people in his orbit well enough to know how they feel about sorcery, at least in a general sense.  and even if they aren’t bloodthirsty bigots like uther, they aren’t exactly welcoming magic with open arms, either.  at the most basic, elementary level, merlin understands something that we don’t like to think about: none of his friends ever challenge arthur on the sorcery ban or express any dissatisfaction with the political status quo, and, even absent outright bigotry, this fact speaks loudly enough in and of itself.  merlin’s friends might not be out clamoring for sorcerers’ blood, but they aren’t criticizing a society that criminalizes sorcery, either, and they are never shown to have a problem with the way things are, even though the way things are is wrong.

The Way Things Are is, in fact, unjust.  it’s oppressive.  and allowing that state of affairs to continue, unquestioned and unchallenged, when you have access to the king’s ear and aren’t personally in danger of being persecuted, indicates that you’re okay with the injustice.  that you’re comfortable with the oppression.  that you don’t see a problem with the status quo, and that you're unbothered enough by it to let it be.

it doesn’t matter that merlin’s friends have never straight-up said ‘boy, magic sure is evil’ onscreen.  they never say that camelot’s policies are wrong, and that delivers a clear enough message on its own.

3) it is not a crime to fight for your freedom

to bring this back to gwaine specifically, since that was originally the focus of this ask -

for me, for all that i adore gwaine, and for all that i think he was, for the most part, an INCREDIBLY sound, healthy relationship for merlin, the truth is that gwaine is as much a part of this problem as everyone else.  does that mean i personally think gwaine would have summarily dumped merlin if he’d found out merlin had magic?  no.  but i don’t think it’s as uncomplicated as maybe we wish it might be, and i think merlin has every right to be as uncertain of gwaine on this issue as he does of everyone else.

for one thing, like i said before, even gwaine, who used to have fewer qualms than any of the knights about pushing back on arthur’s BS, has never said a word about camelot’s injustices, or ever acknowledged that the laws of the land are unjust to begin with.  

for another, there are specific moments that kind of make you wonder.

5.05 (’the disir’) is a good example of this - when gwaine finds osgar in the woods, the two of them have this exchange:

you are a sorcerer, a heretic, and a murderer.  

the rhetoric of this sentence frames all three of these things as equivalent entities - criminal ones.  

to pick this apart more carefully:

a) sorcerer

it’s worth noting here that we’re never told osgar has done anything worse than evading arrest for the crime of being a known sorcerer.  when leon mentions him in the council meeting, the conversation consists solely of the following:

“as you know, a few days ago our garrison in the forest of breckfire intercepted the man who goes by the name of osgar.”

“the sorcerer.”

“the same.  they were trying to apprehend him when he used his powers to escape.”

and…that’s it.  osgar’s crime, as far as we know, was simply being a sorcerer (and then, after that, attempting to escape an unjust arrest, thereby killing a knight in the process).  there’s no mention of any other activities that would have warranted his arrest in the first place, other than the possession of magic.

but magic, even on its own, IS a crime in camelot - and gwaine levels the accusation at osgar as such.

b) heretic

that’s a hell of a word to throw around, if you think sorcery is chill.

“heretic” isn’t a mild accusation.  "heretic” has vitriolic severity behind it.  people are accused of heresy when they’re perceived to be in brazen defiance of what is (in the eyes of the accuser) unquestionably right and correct.  “heretic” is like…it’s like blasphemer.  the connotation is not just that something is bad, but that it’s sinful.

for gwaine, either osgar’s association with sorcery and/or his defiance of camelot’s army makes him a heretic.  and that’s not something a person who is down with sorcery or supportive of a magic-user’s struggle for freedom would say.

c) murderer

if gwaine were cool with sorcery, we would expect him to understand that a sorcerer who resisted arrest for the crime of being a sorcerer isn’t a murderer.  

it’s like kara said in 5.11 - it is not a crime to fight for the right to be who you are.

camelot has been killing sorcerers for decades.  osgar mortally wounded a soldier (not an innocent civilian, i might note) who was trying to imprison him.  he was resisting the armed forces of an oppressive state.  that’s not murder.

somebody who understands that camelot is an oppressive regime wouldn’t think of this as murder.  they would understand that it is not a crime to protect your own life when the state has literally been trying to exterminate your people for years.  and even if osgar had been engaged in rebellious activities against the state (which as far as we know is not the case - nothing like this is ever referenced!), they would understand that people with magic have long been overdue for a righteous uprising.  

but gwaine is a little more like arthur, in this moment - he sees the “wrong” that osgar has done (in the form of sir ranulf’s death) without seeing the thousands upon thousands of wrongs that camelot visited upon the magical community first.

4) you can’t go armed into a sacred place

the rest of this episode is similar.  gwaine pays just as little heed to merlin’s warnings as the rest of the knights, when merlin admonishes them that the disir’s cave is sacred.  gwaine doesn’t relinquish his sword or take special care upon entering the cave.  in fact, he is the one who outright interrupts the disir while they’re speaking - as they’re telling arthur a series of hard truths, that he’s persecuted magic-users, “even unto slaughter;” that he’s desecrated their space: “you come here, to the most sacred of the sacred, to the very heart of the Old Religion, with weapons drawn - trampling hallowed relics - treating our sacred space like you do your kingdom - with arrogance - with conceit - with insolence - ”

and gwaine cuts them off, pushing to the front of the group and shouting at them “enough!  you speak of the king!”  and that’s when the fight starts, when mordred gets stabbed.

someone who was fully accepting of magic, or who knew anything about it at all, would not have behaved this way.  they would not have bristled at hearing how arthur’s regime unfairly persecutes the magical community.  they would have known that it was true.

5) i just want to be myself

the above is just one example, but it’s a clear enough one to illustrate what i mean.  gwaine IS an amazing friend to merlin.  he does treat merlin well.  and merlin loves him to death.  but gwaine is NOT totally chill with magic.  i’m not saying he actively hates it, but he is not, from what merlin has witnessed, entirely safe.  merlin loves him, but he can’t be himself around him.

and i do think that pains merlin terribly.  all these people who he loves so much, and every time he’s with them there’s always that whisper: ‘this is a charade.  all the love in my life is a lie.  they only like me because they don’t know me.  if they knew who i really was, this would be over.’  

and we wonder why he never tells anyone.  we tell him he ‘should’ have told gwaine, gwen, morgana, arthur, like it would have been easy, or even possible, for him to ever consider putting himself in a position where he could lose what precarious, partially make-believe connections he has.

merlin, in the later seasons, when he worries about his magic being exposed, isn’t afraid of being executed.  he’s afraid of becoming even more alone than he is now.  and he has good reason to feel that way - even people who appear to put him first aren’t fully on board with the thing that makes him who he is.  and merlin knows this.  he’s seen it.  none of his friends are out fighting for people like him at court.  some of his friends shake their heads and assure arthur “you are a good and just king” when arthur expresses concern that maybe the disir are right, maybe he has indeed transgressed.  some of merlin’s friends used to buck the system in defense of the powerless, but now they defend the regime even when the accusations levelled against it by an oppressed population are true.

merlin knows that revealing himself is a kind of risk that could very plausibly end with him utterly disowned.  every single friendship he has is subject to this justified fear, this bitter knowledge.  merlin has every reason to doubt the soundness of his relationships.

and, circling back to the thing that started all these musings - the only friends who never made him feel that way were will and lancelot.

that’s all i mean when i say that will and lancelot were merlin’s only “real” friends.  i wish there were a better word to use than that, because i really don’t mean it like…as if merlin’s relationships with other people weren’t…valid, or important, or based on true love and care.  they were.  but there’s just not a better way to express that will and lancelot were the only people who ever even knew who they were friends with, who saw merlin for exactly who he was and said “i love you still.”  they were the only ones whose friendship was something merlin didn’t have to be afraid of losing solely for existing.

i always think of morgana’s line in 2.11 - ‘i don’t want to be brave.  i just want to be myself. i don’t want to be alone anymore.’

around everyone else, merlin has to be brave.  he has to keep up the pretense, which means even when he’s surrounded by friends, he’s completely isolated.

with will and lancelot, though, he could be himself.  with will and lancelot, he wasn’t alone.

6) post-script

i really appreciate being given the opportunity to muse to myself about this in more detail - i actually needed to think through some things regarding gwaine anyway, for writing purposes, and this was actually really helpful in organizing my brain.  so thanks, anon, for the prompt!  

i know my answer probably runs counter to your own interpretation of things, but as i said, this is just my own personal outlook.  i typed it up because the message got me thinking, and because i know i have a couple of friends who might find it interesting, but my thoughts apply only to me, and i do not mind at all if folks think about these things differently!  nobody is obligated to agree with anything i write, or give it any further thought, or even read it at all - we’re all going to engage with this story in different ways, so if anybody finds that this isn’t their cup of tea, please feel free to scroll on by, and keep having fun with this show in whatever way makes you happiest! :)

[tvandenneagram]

The Mortal Instruments Enneagram Types - Type Descriptions and Tri-types under the cut

Clary Fray: 4w5 - 6w5 - 1w2

Clary is brave, creative and stubborn. She will always try to do what she believes is right and will follow her heart when she makes decisions.

Clary is very artistic and has a talent for creating runes. She expresses herself through her art and and carries her sketchbook with her everywhere she goes, using it like a diary.

Clary will fight for what she believes in and will often put herself in danger if it means protecting those she cares about. She is stubborn and it is difficult to change her mind once she has made a decision

Clary is very romantic and is preoccupied with her relationship with Jace. She has extremely strong feelings for Jace and somewhat idealises their relationship. Type 4s are often very attached to their romantic partners and search for an ideal partner, which I think is what we see Clary doing with Jace.

I considered typing Clary as a 6 because she is very loyal, however I think that she is more preoccupied with finding out who she is in the world than her safety. I also think she does not make her decisions based on fear and that she doesn’t really plan out her actions very much. While this could indicate that she is counterphobic I think it is more likely that she is a type 4.

Clary has a wing 5 because she is more introverted and withdrawn than a wing 3 would be.

Jace Herondale/Wayland/Morgenstern/Lightwood/whatever name he has this week: - 6w7 (cp) - 8w7 - 3w4

Jace is independent, headstrong and sarcastic. He presents himself as haughty and arrogant, but uses this attitude as a defense mechanism for his insecurites.

Despite Jace’s flippant attitude he has a strong moral core and is very dutiful. He is a very skilled fighter and takes his training seriously. Underneath his pompus exterior, Jace is hiding distinct feelings of inferiority. He is extremely self-loathing in the original trilogy and often purports things to be his fault when they are not. Jace believes that he has been fed demon blood and attributes his conflicts with this. He hates the feelings he has for Clary and blames it on being part demon. Even when all this is disproven, Jace still carries his mistakes like a burden and believes that he is defective. Some type 6s (especially counterphobic 6s, like Jace) feel like the world is ‘against’ them and I think this attitude comes across from Jace, especially earlier in the series.

Jace has very complicated feelings towards Valentine. While Valentine was abusive and is known to be evil, he is also the man who raised Jace. Jace holds onto his positive memories of Valentine, despite all the lies and abuse he suffered upon him. 6s often have complex relationships with their parental figures and they seek their support. 

Jace will fight for his issues head on and often runs straight into battle to protect the people he cares about. I think Jace is the counterphobic variant of 6, as he is more likely to show his aggression and put themselves in dangerous situations. Counterphobic 6s are also often rebellious and defiant to authority (because they don’t trust it), which is something we see in Jace. 

I considered typing Jace as an 8 because he is very assertive and values strength. However I believe that Jace is assertive and acerbic because he doesn’t trust easily. He puts walls up because he is scared of letting people in because he doesn’t want his trust to be broken. When Jace lets someone in he is very loyal and will do anything for them. 

Jace has a wing 7 becomes he is more emotionally expressive and more likely to react than a wing 5 would be.

Alec Lightwood: 1w9 - 2w1 - 6w5

Alec is principled, caring and brave. He is straightforward and doesn’t care much for pretenses.

Alec is serious and responsible. As the oldest member of his family, Alec put it upon himself to be the protector of his family. He felt that he had to be the most responsible and as a result became very dependable. Alec is extremely compliant and concerned with the rules of the Clave. 

Alec is very concerned with what others think of him. He is so scared of what his parents and friends would think of him if they found out he were gay so he kept it secret from everyone except Izzy. Alec knew since a young age he was gay, but bottled his feelings up, because the Clave said it was wrong. He was scared to go against the Clave’s laws and was worried of losing his family’s respect. 

Alec can sometimes come across as judgmental, rigid and condescending, which are common flaws of Type 1s. Underneath all that, Alec is the harshest critic on himself and he holds himself to impossible standards. Despite being very accomplished, he never thought he was good enough and would discount his successes. Alec is often afraid to make a mistake, which results in him being very careful and practical when making his decisions. 

Alec initially had a snobbish attitude and prejudice towards Downworlders, but opens up more as he interacts with them. In his relationship with Magnus, Alec becomes more carefree and loosens up a bit. He still shows insecurities within this relationship, but is able to overcome them. 

Alec has a wing 9 as he is more guarded with his emotions than a wing 2 would be. 

Magnus Bane: 7w6 - 4w3 - 9w8

Magnus is eccentric, worldly and kind. He really wants to find love and acceptance in the world.

Magnus is very flamboyant and whimsical. His personality contrasts quite distinctly with Alec’s more serious and reserved demeanour. Magnus is very open and does not compromise himself for anyone. He is inclusive and accepting of all people, having friends of all different walks of life.

Magnus enjoys a good party and seeks out experiences. As an immortal, he has had quite a storied life and has been all over the world. At times, it can seem like he doesn’t take situations very seriously and will make snarky jokes about them.

Deep down, Magnus yearns for the love and acceptance he never got from his parents. He had a difficult childhood and was not accepted by his family because he was a Downworlder. Due to this trauma, Magnus tries to repress his negative feelings and numb them with more ‘fun’ experiences. While he appears to be very open, he is actually deceptively guarded and is very hesitant to share deep and honest experiences with others. Magnus appears lively and jovial but is hiding a jaded and cynical worldview.

In his relationship with Alec, Magnus is initally the much more active party. 7s are assertive types and if they want to do something they will do it. We often see Magnus being the one to act first whereas Alec was too scared to act on his feelings for a long time. However, as time passes and their relationship becomes more public we see issues begin to form and Magnus is the one to pull away. When Magnus hears about Alec’s idea to turn him mortal, Magnus feels betrayed and breaks up with him. After their break up, Magnus is very avoidant of Alec and ignores him. This is quite typical of 7s, who hate to confront feelings. 

Magnus has a wing 6 as he is more relationship focused and personable than a 7w8.

Isabelle Lightwood: 3w2 - 6w7 - 1w2

Izzy is fierce, passionate and confident. She can come across as vain or narcissistic, but is actually very insecure and vulnerable.

Izzy is charming and magnetic. She has a quality about her which draws people in. Izzy is comfortable with her looks and will often use them as a means to get what she wants. Despite her outgoing demeanour, she is actually very distrustful and fragile. Izzy is guarded with her true feelings and is hesitant to let people know the real her. 

Izzy has a bit of an image that she has crafted of being rebellious and promiscuous to protect herself. She dated a lot and many of these dates were people her parents wouldn’t approve of. Izzy would form meaningless relationships so that she wouldn’t have to worry about forming real feelings or being hurt. She also did this in part to detract attention from Alec so her parents wouldn’t be suspicious of him.

Izzy is very protective and loyal to her friends. She loves them very deeply and is devastated whenever something bad happens to them. Izzy always tries to be there for her family and defends them with everything she has. She is particularly depressed when her brother Max dies as she blames herself for the death. She thinks that she failed him because she didn’t listen to him when he tried to tell her something was wrong. Izzy holds onto this guilt and even skipped the funeral because she felt she did not deserve to be there.

Izzy desperately wants love, but is hesitant to trust any man. Her mother confided in her when she was younger about her father’s infidelities and told her never to trust a man. As a result, Izzy is the character who takes the longest to open herself up to love. She is passionate about Simon, but is scared to love him because she thinks it will only bring her pain. 

Izzy has a wing 2 because she is more grandiose and showy than a wing 4 would be. 3w2s are generally more concerned with their outward appearances and appearing desirable compared to 3w4s.

Simon Lewis: 9w1 - 4w5 - 6w5

Simon is calm, nerdy and accepting. He is a great friend and is courageous when he needs to be.

Type 9s look for normalcy and struggle with change, which is something we see in spades with Simon. When we first meet Simon he is the only mundane character. He is the ‘normal’ one surrounded by all the magical creatures in the TMI universe. Later on, Simon is transformed into a vampire (well first he’s a rat, then he’s a Daylighter and then he’s a Shadowhunter) and longs to be normal. He resists his vampiric urges and refuses to drink from humans for an extremely long time. Simon struggled for a long time to accept this change and was worried about how it would affect his relationships with his loved ones. He desperately craved a normal life and once he became a Daylighter he tried as best as he could to lead as normal a life as possible.

Simon is non-confrontational and is afraid to share his true feelings for the fear that it might change his relationships. At the beginning of the series, he had been in love with Clary for years but never mustered up the courage to say so. He is initially very jealous of Jace and tries to get Clary not to like him. When he is dating Clary he realises her true feelings lie with Jace and ends the relationship. At his core, Simon truly cares for his friends and just wants them to be happy.

Simon is a great listener and genuinely cares about his friends feelings. He is something of a sounding board and both Clary and Izzy with both feeling very comfortable talking about their problems with him. When Max died, Izzy was able to find comfort in Simon. He listened to her and was able to give her solace and understanding. 

Simon is a people pleaser and is scared to hurt other’s feelings. Sometimes, this can lead to him making some mistakes. 9s fear conflict and will try to avoid it at all costs. They avoid saying negative things because they don’t want people to react badly or hurt their feelings. We see this in the whole mess with Maia and Izzy. I actually hate this storyline but I feel it is a good example of Simon’s general 9-ness. When Simon was dating both girls he showed the 9s indecisiveness, people-pleasing and fear of conflict. I feel that Simon wasn’t honest with either girl because he was scared of their reaction and scared of hurting their feelings. I also feel like Simon was confused in his feelings and couldn’t decide which girl was actually the one for him. 

Simon has a wing 1 because he is more repressed and uptight than a 9w8 would be. His 1 wing also influences him to want to be a ‘good’ person, which is part of why he is so upset when he becomes a vampire (which he feels is turning him into a ‘monster’). 

_________________________________________________

Images adapted from Google

The Infernal Devices Types (x)

[stormyweaver]

Borrowed Time || Chp. 1

So my latest hyperfixation has been this show on Netflix called ‘Swee/t Home’. It’s a live-action South Korean adaption of a webtoon comic, and seriously if you’ve never heard of it before, at least watch the first episode. If you aren’t hooked, gosh, I don’t know what could make a person want more! But you don’t have to have seen the show to enjoy this I think, but again I’d highly reccommend checking the series out. I adore every single character and I’ll probably be writing more about them all, but for now I’m focusing on Pyeon San/g-wook because h-he’s my fave... He’s basically a mysterious drifter who dolls out justice in his own badass way, and he’s amazing and a super complex character. 

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR EPISODE FIVE, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED:

This is after Sang-wook kills the pedophile he was hired to find, and then drags his body outside while bringing two other victims who had died to a monster inside the apartment building. It was pouring raining and my brain instantly went: how can you have a out-in-the-rain scene without sickness? BLASPHEMY! Anyway hope y’all enjoy!

The timing might have been slightly comical if he didn't have a splitting headache. Or, was it a concussion? That... nurse had mentioned something similar, but he truly hadn't paid her any mind. Why would he give someone so prying the time of day in the first place? He hated being touched without his permission, no matter the reason; maybe she had simply been trying to help, but there was absolutely no way in hell he was going to let her continue treating him as if he was some weakling.

No, he only... felt weak, due to all of the stress. He would bounce back eventually - he inevitably did. Though he could never fully comprehend why, his body had an uncanny ability to heal faster than most, and bestowed him with a strength that most people only ever imagined themselves possessing. It had served him well over the years, made him capable of surviving on his own for as long as he'd needed to, aided him in carrying out the tasks others simply didn't have the stomach for. It had of course, had it's downsides - there were injuries and ailments he simply couldn't knock in a matter of hours, and those instances where he'd been forced to finally allow his body to rest were intensely irritating.

A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead as he staggered through the dirtied hallway and, sensing that he was finally alone, allowed himself to lean bodily against a flyer-littered wall. His breath was coming in short, harsh pants, almost bordering on wheezing, though his teeth instantly grit at the idea. He wasn't weak-- damn it, if Jae-heon had just left him out there to die, he wouldn't be feeling like utter, completely useless shit right now. The zealot likely loathed him just like the rest, if not fear then at the very least an intense dislike. Only his 'vows' or whatever meaningless word of God had made him keep the gate open. He swallowed- or rather, made an attempt to, and was unsurprised to find that the action was mildly painful. Pair that was the throbbing near his sinuses, the malaise, and the general feeling of being lethargic, it wouldn't take a medical professional to inform him that he was unwell. What was that old saying? Something about only fools catching a chill from standing out in the rain? Nonsense. But... well, he wasn't about to start pondering old proverbs with a pounding headache. At least he wasn't getting a nose bleed. Just a stuffy one. It took Sang-wook longer than he would have preferred to stand up straight again and continue limping down the walkway, but eventually he did, coming to a stop on the corner of a vacant room. He could practically hear his limbs creak as he perched himself on the edge of a step, and one hand automatically slipped into his jacket pocket. Some habits were harder to break than others. And if ever there a time he truly needed a smoke... With the lit cigarette between his lips, he began to ponder what his next move would be. He had technically finished his business there; no other reason to remain other than the fact that fucking monsters were roaming the city. Of all the positively inconvenient bullshit - monsters. Not that he had any real plans after taking care of matters. He never did. Being a drifter meant not making attachments, not allowing himself to get roped into anything unless it was related to his main task. And yet there he was, with an apartment full of people who either saw him as a thug or a threat or, for some irritatingly insane reason, a person to be pardoned. A laughable concept at best. He didn't even want to be pardoned - he didn't regret the things he had done, to begin with. And wasn't that one of the key steps to getting into heaven? Being repentant for your sins? Well, that was already one big strike against him. Just how did that damned nosey priest expect him to continue on, then? Why had he been so adamant about "saving" him? Why? A trail of smoke filtered past his nostrils, nose absently wrinkling as the thoughts only served to frustrate him all the more. What the hell was he going to do... He brought the stick to his lips again, but his breath caught pre-inhale, mouth forming a deeper frown than normal. A small pin-prick had been stinging the back of his nose ever since he'd woken up, but so far he'd been able to ignore it. Until now. He sniffed harshly, once, twice and, thinking that was that, but the moment he closed his lips around the cigarette, he inhaled harshly through his nose. "hH'KGSHHh!" The sneeze jerked his head down sharply, though he managed to keep it relatively quiet. The last thing he needed was some passerby hearing and having the guts to try and approach him. Though containing it hadn't done his headache any favors, and his teeth had nearly snapped the cigarette in half. Hell, he couldn't even smoke in peace. What was the point of still being alive, again? "You shouldn't be smoking," Ah, there it was. Sang-wook didn't need to glance up in order to place the voice - he could smell the self-righteousness from a mile away. Or, he would have, had he been able to smell anything at the moment.

Resisting the urge to sniffle, he made no attempt at offering even a semblance of acknowledgement towards the other. Not that it would stop him from poking his nose where it didn't belong, so it came as no surprise when Jae-heon stood directly in front of him, gradually lowering himself until he was seated similarly to the other with a soft grunt. Sighing, Sang-wook plucked the useless cigarette from his lips and tossed it to the floor, swiftly crunching it beneath his boot. "I'm not,"

Jae-heon hummed in acknowledgement. "I don't say it to judge," Sang-wook wasn't sure why he felt the need to clarify, but his gaze did flit over to the other's general direction for a moment. He could see the glint his blade gave off out of the corner of his eye. Curious. Although he didn't doubt the other's skill, he just didn't see a point in taking it with him everywhere. But that was ultimately his choice, and he didn't have the mental capacity to bother pondering why he did so. "How are you feeling?" The scarred man barely lifted his eyes to Jae-heon, who gestured with his chin towards the direction Sang-wook had originally walked from. "Yu-ri took a look at your head injury, right? Is it serious?"

The only response he gave was a meager shrug. Sang-wook wouldn't willingly give information about how he was feeling when it didn't matter in the long run. Whether he was fine or slowly bleeding out, what difference would it make? You shouldn't be alive in the first place; why does he care? God, thinking made his head throb. Couldn't he just be alone in this god forsaken complex for more than a solid minute?

He heard Jae-heon sigh, noted him shift slightly, but still kept his gaze glued to the floor. "What you did... I can't agree with your actions," Sang-wook almost scoffed aloud. Was he really expected to listen to a lecture about right and wrong? His attention was already split, anyway. The itch sparked in his sinuses still burned, not having been satisfied with the weak excuse for a sneeze, and every facial muscle was tensed as he worked to smother the sensation into submission. At least he always happened to look stoic, so he doubted the other would notice. Still, hearing Jae-heon gear up for a sermon of sorts didn't bode well for his waning resolve. "But I do understand why you did what you did. The others might not - they might still see you as something that you're not-" "What would you know about what I am?" Sang-wook interjected sharply, a scowl evident on his features. Admittedly, it hurt to talk, and he internally cringed at the trace of hoarseness in his voice. But he didn't like anyone thinking of him as some misunderstood wretch worthy of some kind of redemption. He wasn't a hero, he wasn't a villain, not good or evil - he simply was, and he never needed to be more or less than that, didn't need to satisfy anyone's opinion of him. Jae-heon glanced down momentarily, looking as if he were trying to gather his thoughts. Speaking could come as easily as breathing at certain times, and yet there were moments were every point of diction managed to fail him. "I'm not here to pity you. And I wouldn't claim to understand you. Every person has their reasons for what they do - and every person has to stand with those reasons before the almighty. I'm not here to judge," The scarred skin beneath Sang-wook's eye jumped slightly. "Then what are you here to do? Whatever it is, you're wasting your..." He had to pause, throat constricting momentarily before he sighed unevenly through his nose, "... breath. You should be more concerned about yourself," Jae-heon couldn't help but quirk a miniscule smile at that. "That isn't God's way. Besides, I wouldn't still be alive if I had decided to be selfish," His thoughts shifted to Hyun-su, Mr. Han, Ms. Im and Ji-su - he had all of them to thank for his life, for making it this far. People who, while they may not have shared the same faith as himself, had believed that sticking together and looking after each other was the way to survive - was the right path. No matter their differences, they chose to be selfless, and that was what had led them to finding the other survivors. Sang-wook didn't reply, mainly due to the fact that he wasn't sure he could safely do so without breaking his concentration. Though it didn't matter - Jae-heon continued anyway. "You didn't have to bring back Min-Ju and Su-ung. I won't ask you why, because to me, what matters is that you did. That means something," When Sang-wook didn't respond again, Jae-heon opened his mouth to continue, only to be silenced when the other opposite him took in a sharp inhale and twisted off to the side. "hH'GKxnt! h'HCHGnt!" Jae-heon blinked for a moment, not really startled by the sneezes but seeming to examine Sang-wook with a little more scrutiny, to which the the other flashed him a glare. Unfazed, he continued to gaze at the other. "You look pale. You should be resting," Sang-wook simply scoffed, cringing at the phlegm lining his throat. He desperately needed to sniff back the moisture threatening to breach his nostrils, but his pride held the action back as Jae-heon continued to press the issue. "You're up and about after having passed out - and you were in the rain for a good while. You might be getting sick," And if he was? What the hell did it matter? Sang-wook wanted to press both heels of his palms against his eyes and grind until the pressure behind them lessened at least a little. He was exhausted, and fatigue suddenly swept over him like the storm clouds still raging outside. Everything felt heavy and sluggish which, for someone with normally such sharp senses, was more than off-putting. It felt wrong. He felt wrong. Why was the good Christian wasting time worrying about whether or not he was ill when there were literal monsters still roaming the apartment? As if sensing his turmoil, Jae-heon finally moved to stand back up, katana blade resting by his side. "You should go see Yu-ri - at the very least she can give you something for your head," He began to turn away, paused, then uttered something that made the skin on the back of Song-wook's neck prickle uncomfortably.

"Take care of yourself," Jae-heon’s retreating footsteps seemed to echo unusually loud, and it wasn't until he could no longer hear them any longer that Sang-wook finally indulged in a thick, pitiful sniffle and allowed his head to drop into his waiting hands.

[majoraslion]

MK11 Oc Work.

Working on my MK11 OC named Julissa!

Mortal Kombat 11 Oc

Name: Julissa

Age:26

Character Series:Mortal Kombat 11

Sexual Orientation:Bi-Sexual

Hometown:Born in Dragonrealm but lives with her dad in New York City

Hobbies:Loves to Skateboard, usually draws but graffiti’s things a lot (Has gotten in so much trouble but dosen’t care), likes to go to night clubs, loves raves and to dance. Carries a boombox with her to listen to music when shes skating. Mostly uses her phone with it

Relationships:

Parents: Luca (Dad) Lives in New York and is a pizza shop chef. (No wonder Julissa gets her love of pizza lol) He is calm and stern but he tries his best with his demi god daughter. He asks Raiden and Fujin a lot of questions about her since she was a bit to powerful for him. Although he runs a small dojo he still couldn’t keep up with the energy she had.

Julina (Mom) A Goddess Dragon that lives in the dragon realms, she was very kind at one point in time till she got her crown and changed her ways. She threw Julissa to her ex husband because she wasn’t the heir she wanted. She stays in the dragon realms hoping her daughter will change her mind and become the princess they need to take over.

Raiden and Fujin (Uncles to her) Both have helped her dad raise her and help control her powers as she grew, they consider themselves as uncles to her as thats what she has called them. Raiden is strict with her while Fujin is more laid back in her training. They visit her when they can and Raiden always worries when the tournament is mentioned by her as she isn’t ready in his eyes and is still childish to him.  

Tengfei:First born son to her and Shang Tsung, he was born a full dragon hatcling. He has a human form later on thanks to Julissa teaching him magic. His human form hes almost like a mini Shang, long black hair like his father, has deep green eyes, dragon like features of his mother, and he has a attitude. Mostly keeps to Julissa and gets his shyness from her, he knows of his grandparents and uncles. Julissa and Shang both split learning duties with him. Julissa teaches him her dragon culture and magic and Shang teaches his culture and magic abilites to.

Crush and Spouse Later On:

Shang Tsung (Big Tiddy Sorcerer as she has called him)

Bio:

Julissa is a sweet and kind dragon who just likes to be herself and ignore her demi god status. She hates being one as she dosen’t see herself as someone important enough. She mostly hangs around Cassie and them and keeps up with her training when she ain’t goofing off. Julissa has a trouble maker side to her and she has been caught doing things she shouldn’t have been doing which her dad Bailed her out alot, Julissa trains with her dad and the storm brothers when she can though they don’t know about dragon culture as much as she wants to learn so she seeks out help from Shang Tsung much to their annoyance. While learning from the sorcerer she grows to like him and tries to hang out with him. Julissa dosen’t like the way the future holds for everyone especially when it can grow wrong and ends up in so many deaths. Being immortal herself she’ll know the pain of watching those around her pass away and her only comfort is a evil sorcerer.

Her Human Form: 5′5 in height. Hair a dark brown with purple streaks in it, wears a oversized hoodie, headphones around neck, has small horns on top of her head, eyes are teal blue, has on jean shorts, black converses, ears have two peircings each, tonuge ring, has her dragon tail in human form, her fingers and toes are clawed and she has fangs to, she also carries a backpack with her.

Dragon Form:She isn’t the biggest dragon there is, she’s a purple color with light purple on her tail and muzzle, legs are a black pattern, green belly scales and green on her tail fur and sides, the forehead pattern is green to. Horns are a dark purple with her hair.

Powers:Of course like every dragon she can breath fire and fly, but unlike most she’s a poision dragon. Her bite is very venomous and can paralyze others. The venom is a green color and she can spit it from far away to blind them. Shes like some dragons in mythology that can walk and run on water, her paw pads are kept dry with scales that are water resitaint.  Usually if she dosen’t want to be bothered she will make her belly scales and the fur on her tail glow a bit to show she’s venomous to others and to back off, if that don’t work usually a drawn out hiss is heard and she will spit a bit of venom to show she’s serious. She dosen’t attack unless she’s threatened and she will leave

-Julissa loves to nap, anywhere and anytime. Right in the middle of a battle. She’s snoozing on a rock, its a warm sunny day and she will just lay there sprawled out in her dragon form.

-She likes to stay in her dragon form mostly when she’s by herself, she ain’t human unless she’s around the others. Her dad had to explain to the neighbours once. “No that’s not a chinese dragon in my apartment and no the kitchen is not on fire.”

-She has a weird thing about treasure and shiny things, she has a urge to collect them but she won’t do it to fuel her greedy dragon urges. She has munched down on a few gems once and is embaressed to tell anyone she does that. She will eye some gems but she can control the urges (No thanks to Shang just pourpsely bringing gems around and letting her see them)

-Julissa loves to fly around but she gets lazy and goes by water, she’s a pretty quick swimmer thanks to her scales and fur resisting the water.

-Speaking of her fur it is so soft and silky, when you move it you can see some scales under the fur that protects her body. Julissa loves being brushed and petted so much she’s like a giant cat. She likes to cuddle keep close to you. She’s actually pretty warm, not enough to be unbearable but its comfy

-She and Raiden often gets into a lot of fights over how she is and her fighting skills, mostly it’s about her taking her role as a demi god. She dosen’t want to and just wants to live a normal life while Raiden tells her she can’t run away from her responibilites. She don’t even use her powers unless it calls for them.

-Julissa is clumsy and can get disracted easily, Fujin can’t count how many times she’s crashed from flying when she sees something that catches her attention

-Julissa isn’t mean but she does have a trouble maker side to her, she has admitted to doing small things but she is sweet and kind otherwise

-Weirdly she’s afraid of bugs, she will not go near any and is deathly afraid of D’Vorah. She won’t hesitate to torch her if she has the chance.

-Julissa has the appitite of..well a full grown dragon. She has to eat a lot to to keep herself full. She burns a lot of calories and usually is sluggish if she don’t eat enough.

-She loves her mother with her heart, but she knows she’ll never change. She just hopes it will be soon.

-Being a venomous animal she has glands that stores the venom, if you look under her tonuge you can see were it comes from. Though a bite will be enough to bring anything down she usually keeps to not using it unless she feels threatened. With enough she can paralyze her prey to keep them escaping.

-Sometimes She’ll project her dream\nightmares on those she cares about or knows. She’s done this a few times with Fujin and Shang. Usually the nightmares consit of her mother abandoning her and it’s more than what they would have knew about her.

-Julissa is easy to get attatched to people, she says she can’t help it but she blames it on her abandondedment issues.

-Speaking of She has trust issues to, it’s hard for her to really know if she can trust someone or not. She usually goes by how they are or how they act.

-She mostly stays on Earthrealm, she don’t go to the sky temple unless she’s visiting Fujin and Raiden. Her home is a apartment in New York and she travels to visit Cassie and them.

-Julissa has taken over her dads Dojo and teaches some classes, it helps her clear her mind and keep her on her feet

-Julissa is like most dragons, if she ever gives into her greedy side and hoard treasure or rare items she will grow. She gets meaner and more wild as she does. Seems the only thing Fujin and Raiden has found to keep her from growin is Stuffed Animals and the dragon has a whole collection of them

-There was a time she did grow a bit to big much to their liking, she had gotten some treasure and hoarding it till it was to late