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that-lazy-snail · 2 years

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Being a fan of Avatar (the movie with blue people) is literally the most exhausting fan experience I've ever had, and I'm a female Star Wars fan, who's favorite Star Wars movie is The Last Jedi.

I'm by no means claiming that the movie is flawless or even "great" but it is by scifi blockbuster standards pretty good. It's no more or less racist than the Star Wars prequels and the writing isn't any worse than the scriptwriting in the Star Wars prequels either, yet it's treated with such disdain among people on the internet that I can't even talk about it without receiving random hateful comments.

I cosplay from the movie, more specifically the new movie and an OC that I designed in 2018. I love the movie, especially the visual elements and the design of the Na'vi and their culture, I think it's a fascinating metaphor for our treatment of indigenous peoples and our planet, I love the themes the film presents. But I'm also aware that it's harmful to indigenous people as well because it promotes a white savior narrative, that it's harmful to disabled people by promoting the narrative that they can't live full lives unless they're normative. I don't deny those problems with the movie, and I have plenty of criticisms of the new film as well. Particularly the use of locks on Jake and Spider, and I saw a video on tiktok complaining about that and I left a comment saying that I really wish they hadn't done that and I thought it was a really poor styling choice since up until that point none of the Na'vi we'd seen have locks so it doesn't logically make sense to give them that hair style. I got quite a bit of response to that comment, some people agreeing with me but largely people were saying, "why do you cosplay it then?" "why do you support it then?" like is it not okay to like things and also have criticism for them? I'm allowed to like things about it and also not like things about it.

I also keep seeing videos saying that Avatar has no cultural impact, that it doesn't have a long lasting fan base despite having lore comparable to Lord of the Rings. Here's the thing with that, it totally does have lore comparable to Lord of the Rings but the fan base can't thrive like LOTR fans or even Star Trek could partially because the internet wasn't a space in the same way then as it was when Avatar came out and the other fact is the sheer amount of shaming and harassment that Avatar fans get. I've seen people leave the fandom because of the hate they received on the internet. They quite literally get bullied out of their enjoyment of the movie. People say that Avatar has no fans, but it's fans are chronically silent and reclusive in our liking of the film for fear of getting harassed. I am part of Facebook groups of that have thousands of members and a very active discord. Avatar fans exist, they just keep low and quiet so as to protect themselves. I know people who speak Na'vi in the same way people speak elvish or klingon, it's just not something we advertise because every time we try to share our enjoyment of the movie we get mean comments or mocking stitches/remixes of our videos, pictures, etc. It's not fun to be a public Avatar fan, it's scary and exhausting.

I love Avatar, Neytiri was one of the first truly strong and inspirational female characters I connected with as a child (I was 9 when the movie came out) and I was fascinated and enthralled with the world of Pandora, as were so many movie goers. I'm so tired of getting railed on for enjoying this movie, or even just the constant ridicule that comes through my feed about it. What happened to the golden rule of if you don't have anything nice to say (or on this case even anything that provides new/valuable commentary/criticism) don't say anything at all?

I'm so sick of hearing the same arguments I've heard a million times about why it's a retread plot of Pocahontas/Dances With Wolves/Ferngully, I've heard it all before, I've seen those movies before and their plots are in myths and any number of other stories, that's not why I love the movie. No amount of people saying that to me will change what I do like about the Avatar. I don't watch Avatar for the plot, I watch it for Pandora, and for the visual spectacle and the world building.

I'm sick of the argument that Avatar's treatment of indigenous voices is somehow worse than any other piece of media written by and for white communities, it's not. Even Avatar the Last Airbender (which is my favorite TV show of all time and is often acclaimed as a great example of native representation) also falls failure to the same mistake of casting white actors in POC roles and changing the narratives of natives to be more easily accepted and understood by white audiences. This is not to say that ATLA doesn't handle its message better than Avatar, but it's important to be aware of the ways in which all media has flaws, even the things we think are less problematic and it's important to acknowledge them and not tear the media down for it, but use it as means to make new media better. Cameron did improve with the Way of Water, he frequently consulted with the Maori tribes he was pulling inspiration from, there's literally articles written by Maori tribe members on it but it is still a white people movie, written by white people for white people so do with that what you will. But don't claim star wars is any better, the prequels were outrageously racist, and they still maintain majority white casts.

The new Avatar movie (the way of water) is not perfect, there are quite a few things I found to be poor choices in regards to cultural sensitivity (aka locks, and casting Kate Winslet as Ronal instead of a Polynesian actress) but it's still better than it's predecessor, and unlike so many people on the internet say, it is not "a bunch of white people playing poc" since neither Zoe Saldana, nor Trinity Jo-Li Bliss, or any of the Metkayina children or Cliff Curtis are white. In fact, Cliff Curtis is Maori, the culture that inspired the Metkayina and many of the extras who play background Na'vi in the films are POC, because in spite of James Cameron's failings, he did want the Na'vi to be played by people of color. Very very few of the Na'vi in the original movie are played by white people, only a few extras with less than 1 minute of screen time and no lines. All the major Na'vi roles were played by people of black and indigenous color. Eytukan was played by a Cherokee native, Mo'at (these people are the two clan leaders) is played by a indigenous woman from Africa and is very black. Zoe Saldana's parents are Dominican and Puerto Rican for god's sake! She is not white. This argument that he casts white people in POC roles is untrue. The Avatars are white cause they're meant to represent the invadors, wolf in sheep's clothing if you will. The Na'vi are bipoc, and they're played by bipoc.

After Avatar, James went to Brazil and became and activist for native communities. He went worked with Brazilian natives fighting the building of a dam over their local river, a dam with would power a major city in Brazil, but destroy the indigenous peoples access to water. He went to their community, and asked them what he could do to help. He donated money, protested, ran conferences and tried to disrupt the building of the dam using his influence, but it failed, and he had to watch the suffering of this indigenous tribe that he'd grown very close to in their time working together to prevent the dam. He's not Anti-indigenous as people love to claim, he's clumsy and arrogant (like all cis white men) but what he does is an attempt to elevate native voices not smother them even if he doesn't necessarily succeed.

The movie isn't the menace to society people portray it as, nor is it as boring or uncompelling as people claim. But I still can't go online to enjoy it because no matter what I say, I like it too much for "a bad movie" or I'm "too supportive of something harmful" although I still see people buying Harry Potter merchandise in the Barnes and Noble and I'd argue JK Rowling is an actively bigoted individual who's words and paychecks actively harm marginalized communities, unlike Cameron who despite his bumbling is trying his best and actually learning and doing better with the new content he puts out.

People also say things like, "You only like it cause you're white, no POC people like Avatar." which is blatantly untrue, I've seen native people who like it, black people who like it, I have black friends who like it, I know a black cosplayer who cosplays from it. In fact, I know more poc who cosplay from it than white people. Everyone is entitled to their opinion of the film, and should be allowed to interact with it without getting harassed. It's just exhausting to like it, so people don't say they do.

I'm tired of even the things that should be praised about the new film being used as a way to tear it down. Cameron said in an interview that he "likes Captain Marvel and Wonder Woman as characters but they're not mom's" when asked why he chose to make Neytiri a mother. Neytiri's motherhood doesn't detract from her warrior-ness, she's still a badass bitch and I think that's the point that this person on tiktok clearly missed. He wasn't saying you need women to be moms to be heros, but how many warrior women who are also mothers can you think of off the top of your head? I can't think of any. The choice to make Neytiri a badass mom wasn't to detract from single or childless female characters but to provide even more diversity in the kinds of strong female characters out there. I loved that 1/2 the cast of that movie was women, just as I loved Neytiri in the first film.

In conclusion, can we please stop making Avatar fans lives hell on the internet. I do my own research about how it is and isn't problematic and make my own decisions, I don't need strangers to yell at me. I just want to enjoy my silly ecoscifi movie about blue aliens. I'm aware of its issues and I do my best to raise awareness of the issues facing real natives, to engage with real native stories and voices and support their protests, legal persuits, tribal sovereignty, land back etc, and be the best ally I can be, but I'm not going to boycot this movie because it does some problematic stuff, or because it has an unoriginal plot, if I did that I could never watch another marvel movie again (and yes they're just as bad if you dig, look at the early ones especially) I'm so sick of the insane amount of factually unsupported hate this movie gets and of having to deal with it. I'm tired, I just want to enjoy my movie which is no worse than any other white backed and driven Hollywood blockbuster.

#avatar #avatar 2 #avatar the way of water #avatar 2009 #james cameron #avatar james cameron

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purpled-royalty · 4 months

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Not taking any more art asks / requests - [currently working on 2 asks]

Welcome!

Hi Friends, you found me ✨

I’m Mimi, I’m new here. My blog is mainly related to Black Clover and OCs. I'm quite shy so, sorry if i'm awks at first *i'm trying to do better* but please interact/ ask me anything in my inbox.

With the help of my friend Lola, this blog has been created to be a creative outlet for my art, my ships and interacting with other lovely mutuals within the fandom. I'm mainly into art, but I may write from time to time, if you have any requests (art related for now), do send an ask but I will mainly do them in my free time/ for special events.

I like drawing OCs and learning more and more about the OCs & AUs of my mutuals, I want to know ALL THE LORE.

My rules for requests (when open)/ some info about my OCs are below:

FINALLY, HAVE FUN, EXPLORE AND INTERACT.

Rules

Be Nice - No toxic behaviour will be tolerated. If you don't like a ship I post etc, then scroll.

I have the right to decline an ask if I feel like it, there may be some things that I am just not comfortable exploring.

I can draw *light* nsfw - but only when I am taking asks. I do not take nsfw requests for any kinks/ underage characters.

I have a job and I am also studying so I am pretty busy and requests may take some time.

I am quite new to the art scene so be kind, i'm still learning so this is just something for me to see my progress.

Black Clover OCs

Main OC

My main OC is Tiara, and I have shipped her with Nacht (link to her profile/ her next gens with Nacht is below) - I am still developing/ writing her and Nacht's story but will update it with the link in due course.

Link to Tiara's info page Link to Tiara's reference sheet

Next Generation OCs (links/references to be added where none are provided)

Nacht and Tiara: Eri & Morgan Asta and Noelle: Acier (“Aci”) & Ace Nozel and Dorothy: Freya

Writing

Niara story

Starlit Shadows - The story of Nacht and Tiara Starlit Shadows (Mini One Shots) - Cute mini one-shots of Niara's relationship

#welcome #black clover #rules #materlist #about me #organisation

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bunk-bed-blorbos · 2 months

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Hey No Straight Roads fandom! It's me, your humble Strawberry, asking for a little help with a conundrum im having.

*ahem*

WHAT THE SLIMY POSSUM IS THE TIMELINE OF NO STRAIGHT ROADS???

If you can't read the crazed chicken scratches of a madwoman, don't worry I'll translate.

The start of the timeline is simple enough (at first); The Goolings were a rock band that acted as the sole charter of Vinyl City, before things fell apart and the band split up (source: Tatiana's lore dumps between bosses and during/after her own bossfight) either before Mayday was born or when she was too young to remember them. Fine so far.

Sometime after this, Vinyl City starts expanding, adding new infrastructure, making things shiny and new, all happening while Mayday and Zuke were growing up, evident when you explore the intractables around the city. It's easy to assume NSR is behind all of this, what with Tatiana's goal of eliminating the past and moving on. EXCEPT...

Eve, you bundle of questions wrapped in an enigma you...

According to her Kliff Notes, Eve was the very first artist signed onto NSR, and was directly responsible for the label's rise to power.

But THAT MAKES NO SENSE thanks to what little concrete evidence we have towards the timeline: their ages.

Mayday is 21. Eve is 27.

With that in mind, NSR forming immediately or at least shortly after The Goolings broke up IS IMPOSSIBLE.

There is a sizeable, wobbly gap between The Goolings breaking up and NSR's foundation, a gap where SOMETHING is happening, unless Vinyl City was just plunged into darkness for who knows how many years, WHICH SOMEONE WOULF HAVE PROBABLY MENTIONED, MOST OF ALL TATIANA, WHO HAS EVERY MOTIVE TO REMIND PEOPLE OF A QUITE LITTERAL DARK AGE WITHOUT NSR.

But even if that was the case, it makes no sense that a company or government that isn't NSR to make such rapid expansions to the city, because WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU BUILD SUCH ENERGY-INTENSIVE INFRASTRUCTURE WITH A MASSIVE POWER VACCUM OPEN.

BUT THATS NOT ALL, HEAVENS NO, Because there's a whole lot of questions about sigifigant events WE HAVE NO POINTS OF REFERENCE FOR.

When was the War that Neon J and the battle bots are veterans of? When was the Qwaza invented/discovered? When was DK West's unwitting uprising? WHEN DID BUNK BED JUNCTION EVEN MEET???

I am slowly losing my mind, so PLEASE, for my own sanity, if anyone has any backstage info, or a quote from an interview or an ama, or just found something I missed in game, please, please, PLEASE let me know, so that I can AT LEAST nail down an ORDER OF EVENTS.

#no straight roads #nsr #timeline #theory crafting #please help me

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starphasedd · 2 years

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Egon

(Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader)

Rating: 18 + for violence and explicit smut.

Synopsis: A small confession leads to something completely unexpected.

Notes: As promised!! I'm super proud of this guys! I think I captured Simon quite nicely. I am new to the fandom, and still reading lore. Feel free to correct me on anything you see wrong. Egon is actually the codename for my OC Ema 'Egon' Swann. This fic started with her, but as to not be selfish, I made it more inclusive by changing it to the reader perspective! I hope you enjoy!!

Word count: 8k+

AO3

Egon.

German, by nature. Meaning "strong with the wind"

That was the nickname the men of task force 141 gave you.

They had many reasons for this name. You were fast–agile on your feet. Small and clean. It was hard for any enemy to catch you, or even see you coming. You were strong too, for a woman of your size. You could easily take down a man twice your size with the techniques you studied and used over the years. But their main reason for giving you this nickname was for your sharpshooter skills. No matter the conditions, you always made your shot. Rain, thunder, wind. You never missed. No outlying factor kept you from doing your job.

That's what gained you the respect of task force 141.

You've known these men for a while, having been asked to join the team just over two years ago. In that time, you got to learn the boys well. All of them respected you and treated you as their equal–something you worked so hard for. Being a woman in this field of work is challenging, even for some of the strongest ladies you know. That didn't stop you from doing your job–which impressed Price when he worked with you on a mission before he asked you to join the team.

It was a mission in New York City, where you were a part of the NYPD task force. The lead was mafia related and Price's team was called in to assist. Your captain at the time knew it was a risky job, and he needed devoted and dangerous men to help him take their leader down. You along with a couple of your own comrades fought side-by-side task force 141 and pushed through a successful mission.

Everything after that is history. You left with Price and his team, never looking back.

These men are your family now, and you love every single one of them in your own way. Price and Gaz keep to themselves most of the time– Soap is the one you'd definitely call 'brother'. You and him have the best dynamic. He's goofy and chill, and you adore that about him. Inherently with him comes his Lieutenant, Ghost. A man you haven't really been able to get a read on since you met him those couple years ago. Yes, of course, it's mainly to do with the fact that he wears that damn mask twenty-four-seven. But he also isn't the most personable guy. He speaks when he needs to, and fights when he has to--but he hasn't really gone out of his way to get to know you–even though you and Soap are practically attached at the hip.

Being close to Soap means he typically picks you to go along with him and Ghost on missions. Which you don't mind. When the three of you get split up, the commlink keeps you all close, figuratively.

One of the things you and Soap bonded over was your mutual adoration of music. You didn't have the best childhood, and music was your escape. It appeared Soap used music to his comfort as well. So, when you're on missions but split apart, Soap keeps in your ear either spatting off random lyrics of songs, or requesting you sing to him. Much to Ghost's dismay–who has to listen to you two banter about why you don't like country music, or why Soap can remember so many random lyrics. Ghost keeps quiet, and you wonder if you get on his nerves. He's the type of guy to speak his mind and the fact that he hasn't said anything yet suggests he may…be okay with it? Who knows with that man.

Ghost keeps close, but far away at the same time. He treated you like an equal, and always made sure he had your six. The same thing goes for you. Granted, the giant, pure muscle of a man never really needed your help. You were always there for him. Over time, he seemed to soften on you. He would use your real name on occasion. He got worried sometimes when you didn't answer his comms right away and would scold you once you were all back together.

'Fuck woman, answer the bloody comms when your superior asks for your status.' He would gruff in that deep British baritone.

You would never admit it, but something about that man set your body on fire. His size, his voice, his attitude. Fuck, his attitude alone. He exudes confidence and experience without being cocky. There's nothing quite like a confident man–a man who knows what he wants and can take it whenever he wants….but doesn’t. He was always looming over your shoulder, watching you intently through the holes in his mask. Soap would comment on it every now and then, making fun of the Lieutenant for not being able to keep his eyes off you for a moment. You didn't think it was that serious–you convinced yourself he was just watching you for your own safety. As any good teammate would.

But then the subtle touches started. You would feel his large hand splaying over your lower back as he walked beside you up the copter ramp, almost as if he was guiding you. Of course it never happened if someone was around to see it—he made sure of it. But it would happen more frequently. They were genuine, and gentle touches. And completely innocent. Being a woman, you had an intuition for men's intentions–since you dealt with them your entire life. Ghost never set any alarms off. You always felt safe with him.

You trusted him with your life, and you hoped he felt the same about you.

He was cold and calculating—mysterious and quiet. Though he showed those small, intimate minstations to you and you alone, you tried not to think too much into it. Ridding yourself of the disappointment before it reared its ugly head. You often thought about what he looked like under that mask. You've seen his eyes countless times. They were brown like freshly ground coffee. He had blonde eyelashes that stuck out amongst the black paint he smeared right there. He had a strong, chiseled jawline. Sometimes you can see a few prominent veins through his mask when he tightens it. His neck is strong and thick, no doubt riddled with scars from his many years slaughtering men.

You imagined what his body looked like too. He's a big man, standing almost an entire foot taller than you. He had thick, broad shoulders and a puffy, muscular chest. Even when he wore one hundred pounds of gear, you could still see how fit he was. His waist was thin and strong, he had a certain swagger when he walked that always caught your eye. His forearms almost looked fat, they were so fucking thick with muscle. He was covered in huge protruding veins on both arms–they were even visible on the arm that was covered in tattoos. And his hands always made you blush. They were twice the size of yours, and you spent many occasions watching his big fingers work the trigger on his guns like a thread. He was nimble, and agile there.

You wondered what they would feel like–if they would grip your throat with delicacy or fierceness. If they would roam down your neck and swallow your breasts in a warm squeeze. If they would trail your curves all the way down to your ass and nead the soft, pillowy flesh there. If they would tease you–circling around that sensitive bundle of nerves until you were weeping for him. If they would pump you, fill and stretch you out until you were ready for his cock. Or would he even give you that decency and instead, take you unprepared in a hot, lustful frenzy?

It's all human nature, you suppose. It's natural for a woman to be sexually attracted to a protector like Ghost. It goes back thousands of years–it's all instinct. That's what you tell yourself after you cum on your hand thinking about your Lieutenant. When that wave of unfiltered shame and guilt rushes over you following your high.

_______

"Egon, how copy?" Comes that familiar gruffy voice.

You jump slightly, shuddering out of your thoughts as you neel against the abandoned brick building. Your rifle in your left hand, fingers tight on the trigger.

"Jesus, Lieutenant–awaiting target. No eyes yet." You grunt out, face heating up in embarrassment. He always knew when to catch you off guard.

"Eyes on the prize, sergeant. Stay focused."

You scoff, eyes rolling as you adjust your stance slightly. It's dark, the only light you have to use coming from old, orange colored lamps hanging from the buildings. To top that off, it's been raining all day so it's doubly hard to see far in the distance. Even with a scope.

"Easy for you to say, Lieutenant. I'm out here freezing my ass off and you're inside a nice warm building." You mumble into the mic.

"Punishment for not listening to your superior."

"Bite me." You retort.

No response. You grin. Any opportunity you get to fight back at the Lieutenant scolding you, you'll take.

A few minutes in silence go by as you wait patiently for your target to come into view. You have a black mask covering the bottom half of your face, leaving only your eyes and forehead exposed. A heavy leather hood covers your hair. Soft pelts of rain dropping keep you focused in the moment. Your tactical boots are worn and wet, holes from misuse letting water in to soak your socks. The harness tied around your waist and thighs is digging into your pants, which are rubbing and chafing your skin. Your back hurts from being on your feet all day, and your head is pounding. You usually get headaches when it rains. You are so fucking ready for this day to be over.

You stay steadfast nonetheless. Eyes focused on the door the target will be coming out of.

A few more minutes go by in silence when you hear the comm start to buzz, indicating someone was about to speak.

"Why can't orphans play baseball?"

You can't help the cheeky grin that creeps its way upon your face.

"Why?" You ask.

"They don't know where home is."

"Ghost," You say with a huff, attempting to hide the laugh trying to claw its way out of your throat. "Shut the fuck up."

"It's inappropriate to speak to your superior that way."

"Sorry, let me rephrase. Shut the fuck up, sir."

"Better."

You grin, holding the butt of your rifle up to your cheek in anticipation. Your finger reaches up and you adjust the scope. You close your left eye and squint your right as you look through the glass. You hadn't realized you never turned off your mic when Ghost crimes in again.

"Control your breathing, Sergeant. It'll help you focus better."

Your breath catches in your throat the moment is deep voice comes through the ear piece. Was the bastard really listening to you breath this whole time? Your tongue slides over your bottom lip, moistening the smooth skin there. You let a long breath come out before slowly breathing back in, reducing your heart rate. With your breath now cool and even, you sink back into the task at hand.

"Atta girl." Ghost whispers in that english accent, his voice sending a wave of chills down your spine.

Your chest pulls tight at his encouraging words, and if you hadn't been so focused on the door in front of you, you may have retorted something flirty back. But just as you were about the touch the communicator, the door in your sights swings open. You pause and hunch down impossibly lower as a tall man, accompanied by three other men stumble out of the building. You're so low now your chest could practically touch your boots. Your back is arched and steady, fingers itching to pull the trigger as you search for the man you have a description of.

The rain is starting to pick up now, thunder rocketing through the air as lightning snaps to the ground in the distance. Your breathing is steady and firm, flowing visible streams in front of your face as the chill in the air makes you shiver.

You're so focused on identifying the target in front of you that you don't hear the footsteps approach you from behind. They're quiet, trained and quick. You lock eyes on the target. A tall, skinny man. He has long, curly blonde hair that flows just past his shoulders. The identifying marker is a scar on the left side of his face. It's long–stretching from the bottom of his jaw all the way up and over his eye. It stops just above his eyebrow.

Rain is starting to smear over the scope lense, making it increasingly difficult to see the taget. After a moment, you lick your lips away, your pointer finger hones down on the trigger and starts to stretch it down. The man across the way reaches down for the door handle on the SVU next to him. You take one final breath in and hold, steady and true. Your finger pulls down, emitting a loud pop in your ear. It's quick, and the target immediately falls to the ground. Not a word, not a sound. Silence as his body hits the cold, wet concrete. The men around him start to panic and pull their guns out, rapidly stomping around in circles to try and spot where the bullet came from.

One turns in your direction. He doesn't see you, but starts running in your direction. You cock back and lift on your feet. You stand to almost your full height, knees slightly bent. You pull the trigger again. The second victim drops to the ground with a loud and painful grunt. At this point, you've given yourself away. Blood rushes through your ears as the two other men start sprinting in your direction. You slowly start to back up, cocking back yet again to let another bullet fly. Bullseye–a direct hit to another man's head. Your focus now remains on the last man standing who has gone into a hiding stance. You stand up fully and start to turn. When you do, you hear the sound of another rifle going off. Blood splatters across your face as a man–whom you had no idea was directly behind you–falls against the brick wall and his lifeless body slides down.

You gasp softly at the sight–having had absolutely no clue the man was behind you getting ready to attack. You look around quickly, trying to locate where the shot came from when Ghost's voice comes through the headset.

"Thought you knew better, sergeant."

Your breathing is heavy as you look up at the building across the street. On the fourth floor, Ghost moves forward to reveal himself through the window. The bone part of his mask almost lights up as he positions his rifle and shoots the last of the men on the street. He looks down at you as he lowers his rifle. His massive body towering in the window. His eyes lock with yours as your chest heaves up and down. The hood on your jacket has fallen now, and rain is starting to soak your hair. It sticks to your cheeks and neck. The water soaks your face.

"Were you watching me?" You ask, slight irritation in your tone.

"Had I not been, you'd be dead."

You scoff, clenching your jaw and rolling your tongue in your mouth as you keep eye contact with him.

"Get down here. Let's go."

Embarrassment was evident in your tone, but you couldn't hide that from Ghost. You couldn't hide anything from a man with his experience. So you gave in and let it out.

Ghost was down in your area within a minute or so, and he approached you slowly.

It was still raining as you and Ghost started walking towards the safe house. It was a small cottage on the outskirts of this shitty little town. Price said there was a shower, and that's all you could ask for. You walk silently next to your superior, who hasn't looked at or spoken to you since he came down from the building. You keep your eyes forward and alert as your heavy boots slush through the wet streets.

"Have you heard from Soap?" You ask softly.

"Affirmative. He's on the other side of the city with Price and Gaz. They're at the other safehouse." He responded in that deep tone.

He's safe. A gentle sigh of relief left your lips as you continued your walk to the safehouse.

The walk there stays silent. With Ghost keeping close to your rear, he almost hovers over you but he's slow. Which is unusual for him. On occasion, you could have sworn you could hear his breathing. It was loud and sounded labored. You raised your voice a little at one point to ask if he was alright and grunted back at you. Something seemed off.

After a couple hours carefully trekking through the nearly flooded city, you made it to the safe house. It was pitch black, away from any city lights to give you away. It was a small, one room cottage. When you opened the door, you cleared the room with your rifle. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough to house the two of you until the morning. There was a small, two person bed, a run-down kitchen and a small, detached bathroom with holes in the door. It was filthy, but you were thankful to be out of the rain. You noticed a small fireplace that seemed clean enough to use.

You turn to Ghost, who is towering behind you. "I'll start a fire. You should try and get a hold of Price and let him know we're okay."

The large man grunted, and turned slowly in the direction on the bed. You watched his feet almost drag the floor. And when he sat down on the edge of the bed, you noticed him trying to conceal the hand that was holding his side.

You watch him for a few moments before turning your attention to the fire. It was starting to get cold. Worry about Ghost later so the both of you don't freeze to death here. Gathering what little kindling and firewood you could find, you begin to light the fire. First you pile in some pieces of wood you found here and there, and then you line the tower with what kindling you could find. Reaching into your soaked chest pocket, you pulled out the lighter you hoped wasn't flooded. And by some miracle, it wasn't. You easily ignited a small fire in the run-down fireplace.

Turning around, you glance over to see Ghost still sitting with his hand on his side. His hulking figure dips the mattress by a good bit.

"Fucking awful communicators." He grunts out before he rips the mic off his head.

"Not able to get a hold of Price, huh?" You say with a soft smile.

He shakes his head slowly. A grunt being his only response, again.

You stand from where you sit, starting to pull your weapons and gear off. Your weapons come first. You gently set the rifle up against the wall, and place your handguns beside them. Knives get stuck in a pile next to the handguns. You reach around to unstrap your vest, pulling it off your shoulders. It drops to the floor with a thud, which grabs Ghost's attention. Once your vest is off, you move to take your harness off. Ghost watches you through half lidded eyes. You prop one leg up on a grate for better access to the straps that trail from your waist, all the way down to your feet. Starting with the foot strap, you unclip the buckle. Your hands slide up your calves to your thighs, where the second set of straps dig into the skin there.

You quickly make way with those buckles and pull them down your legs. The last strap around your waist is easy. You stand and unclip the last buckle and let that strap fall to your feet. A relieved sigh leaves your lips as you turn to walk towards Ghost. He was still watching you, his hand holding his side. He hasn't moved–still sitting there uncomfortably, no doubt, in his full gear. You approach him slowly, hands hugging your hips as you test these waters.

"Let me see." You say gently as you stop directly in front of him. He's so big that he's still eye height with you, even sitting down.

"I'm fine." He grunts.

"Sir–"

"I said I'm fine. Tend to your own." He says.

"I just want to help, sir. "

He glances up at you through his mask. You're standing close–so close he can feel the heat radiating off your body. His eyes meet your face, his hand still hovering over the wound on his side.

"Do you trust me?" You ask gently.

He seems hesitant, no doubt unsure what he wants to do. But after a few moments of watching you, he lets the hand on his side slowly drop to his thigh. He breathes out slowly.

"Yes."

You take this moment to be bold for the first time with him. You suck a breath in and hold, slowly reaching forward and gliding your hands over his shoulders. They fall down his back to unstrap the back of his weapons vest. Your eyes bounce back and forth between his as your chest presses softly to the pack on the front of his body. You pull the straps up over his shoulders and let the best slide down his front, pulling it off and gently setting it down on the floor by his feet. Next, your nimble fingers work at the zipper on his jacket–pulling down until it unclips at the bottom. You run your hands over his shoulders again to pull the rain jacket off–setting it on the mattress next to him.

He looks bigger this way, which should be impossible. You just took eighty pounds of gear off his body but even now, in just his black pull-over hoodie and rain jacket, he looks bigger. His muscles are more defined. You can see the bulge of his strong pecs, the roundness of his arms.

You stand up to look at him once again.

"May I?" You ask softly.

He doesn't speak, but nods slowly.

You mind his permission and slowly grab the bottom of his hoodie, pulling it up and over his chest. What reveals is a nasty stab wound–about three inches long. Blood trails all the way down to his jeans. Most of it is dry, but some warm blood indicates it's still bleeding.

"Jesus wept. You were going to leave this unattended?" You ask, glancing up to meet his gaze.

He brings his hand up to hold his hoodie for you. You remove your hand and reach into the first aid kit attached to his utility belt. Pulling it open and starting to look through the supplies.

"I've had worse." He retorts with a snort.

You can't help but smile gently, looking at him through the corner of your eye as you rummage through his bandage pack.

"You're an idiot."

"I'll be sure to remember that when I'm doing your performance review."

"In that case, be sure to remember this. I want a raise." You say with a small laugh as you set some bandages down on his thigh.

"A raise? You can barely do what you're told now. Only good employees get raises." He retorts, you swear you can hear the grin on his mouth.

"I've never been one to respect authority." You say, a cheeky grin meeting his gaze as your hand brings a sanitary wipe to his wound.

"Fuckin' Americans."

You laugh out loud this time, hand gently gliding over his wound–cleaning it with the sanitary wipe. You take notice of his build. He's strong, thick and muscular. He has some chest hair, and some hairs that trail under his jeans. He's incredibly built as well–of course he is. You knew that. He was a huge man, and incredibly strong. There was no doubt in your mind he was sculpted to the heavens. His skin is littered with scars. Some range from as small as your fingernails, to the size of your fist. You wish you could touch them all, to ask their stories. How did he get this one? That one?

The little shack is quiet for a few more minutes as you finish cleaning and treating his wound. You take it slow so as to not cause him any discomfort. Something tells you he really doesn't care, but you do. His eyes watch you through the hole in the skull of his mask. The black eye paint makes his blue hues glow in the moonlight. Rain patters softly against the metal roof. Your hand glides smoothly over the patch you're placing over the stab wound. You flatten your palm to smooth it out as much as possible. His breathing is steady as it fans against your cheek. Your proximity to him right now may have been alarming if you didn't know him well.

He stays still, watching you as he holds the hoodie up over his chest. His gaze brings goosebumps to the back of your neck, making your hairs stand up. You feel the need to break this awkward silence.

"This scar looks like it was painful." You say ever so softly, your free hand coming down to the four inch scar on his abdomen. Your palm flattens and your thumb grazes it gently.

"They were all painful." He says, a hint of tease in his tone. His voice has softened considerably.

"Yeah? I wouldn't have guessed, sir." You say, eyes flashing up to meet his as your mouth pulls into a sweet smile again.

"Simon. No need to be formal when we're alone." He says, followed by your name. It rolled off his tongue with ease–like it was the most natural thing for him to say.

"Right. Simon–" you say softly. You're not pulling apart the last part of the bandage to stick it on top. "--how did you get this one?" You ask, pointing to another scar on one of his pecs.

"In the Military. My first deployment. This was one of the first." He says.

"I remember those days. I was eighteen when I joined the Marine Corp. Got a few scars myself. Though, they're more mental than anything." You say, bringing a hand up to tap the side of your head and smile. "Yours have more meaning behind them, I think."

"Rightfully ugly things." He says, his eyes now following your hands as they work to cover the rest of his wound.

"Not at all–" you say as you stop your movements. Your eyes meet his when he takes notice and lifts his head to see you. "--I find them endearing."

His eyes narrow slightly as he watches you–indicating he's unsure of the meaning behind your statement.

"I mean, they show your growth…as a man. You had to overcome each one of these–" you say as you move to continue wrapping his wound. "--they're all testaments to how strong you are. Mentally and physically. I don't find them ugly in the slightest."

Your hand stops moving as you've finally finished patching his wound. Standing up straight, you bring your eyes back to his. He slowly releases his hoodie to let it drop back down, but his eyes never once leave yours. He almost seems dumbfounded–at a loss for words. He just stares at you for a few moments before speaking.

"I don't understand." He says, almost a whisper.

"What's not to understand?" You ask.

His hands are laying on his thighs, but his fists are clenching and unclenching. He doesn't speak, so you take this chance to elaborate.

"Simon, I don't know much of your past. Well, anything about your past, really–" you say gently, your hands slowly glide up and test the waters, laying on top of his strong shoulders. "--I don't need to. I know the man you are now. Neither of us are perfect. But I do know that you're a good man, who will always have my back. That's all that matters."

His eyes never leave yours as your hands slowly glide over from his shoulders, and up his neck to rest holding his strong jaw.

"And I will always have yours. That's what being a team is all about."

You're holding his jaw gently; you can feel it clenching as he watches you through the skull mask. You're close to him now, closer than you have been. Your hips are slotted between his legs. His fingers reach out and softly graze the outside hem on your jeans–silently asking for permission. You glance down to his hands, before back up to his face and slowly nod.

His large hands come out to flatten against the outside of your thighs, softly squeezing the flesh there as they glide up and over your hips. They rest there, just above your ass. His warmth sends chills down your spine as he pulls you closer, your chest almost touching his. His palms spread against your curves and his thumbs dig into your belly.

"What's on your mind, sergeant?" Ghost asks, his voice barely above a whisper as your face inches closer to his.

You continue holding his jaw, keeping him attentive to you and you alone. Your breath fans over his covered lips. Your thumbs start to rub small circles over the sharp bones under them.

"I often think…" you trail off as your right thumb moves towards the center of his face--finding his bottom lip under the mask and pressing down. "...think about what your smile looks like. I reckon you're quite handsome."

"Is that right?" His voice is low, now laced with something akin to longing.

His hands give your hips a good squeeze, shuffling your lower half closer to his. His thighs trap you in their strength.

"Mhm." You hum softly.

You find yourself being bold again, thumbs leaving his lips to trail down his neck again. You locate the bottom of his mask and slip both thumbs under the hem. You stop momentarily, giving him ample time to stop you. Only, he doesn't. You can feel the moment his muscles tense and you hear his breath hitch. But his eyes never leave you, and neither do his hands. They squeeze you and pull you harder.

As to not betray his trust, your eyes slowly flutter closed. Your thumbs slip under his mask completely and gingerly begin pulling up. You pull it up and over his lips. Along the way, you can feel the defined muscles of his neck–the large veins. His chin and jaw are prickly, most likely from a recent shave. You pull it up to sit just in the tip of his nose. Eager fingers return to his chin, thumb coming back to slide over his lower lip. It's full, and warm. Feels slightly damp, like he had just licked it. His breath is warm on your hand as you continue to feel him here.

Your other fingers stretch to try and feel the back of his head, wanting to know if he has thick or coarse hair. Is it curly or straight? Blonde like his eyelashes or brown?

His hands become impatient and begin sliding up your sides. In the process, he pulls the skin-tight undershirt out from under your pants. Cold air rushes through and touches the little part of your belly exposed. As his digits continue sliding up, they eventually curve out and up both of your arms until they meet at the base of your neck. His fingers dig into the skin there and start to gently pull you forward.

In the shuffle, your hands slide down his chest and come to a rest on top of his biceps. The muscles flex under his hoodie as he pulls you forward. Your eyes stay closed as you feel his breath getting closer and closer to your face.

"Tell me to stop." He whispers. It was hoarse, and deep. Laced with lust.

You breathe out slowly, shaky and anxious.

And when you don't, he kisses you.

To say he just kisses you is a gross understatement to what the both of you start to share. Your entire body lights up, chills shooting down your spine like fireworks as he twists his head to the side and slowly licks your bottom lip. His lips are soft and giving. They flatten when they meet yours to cover as much ground as they can. You open your mouth, giving him full access to that wet cavern. Your mouth meets his again, more heated this time. His tongue slides inside your mouth with ease, shooting to fight and tackle yours in a fight for dominance.

Your fingers start to dig into his biceps, and that elicits a grunt moan from the man kissing you. He continues kissing you, tongue exploring your mouth as his large hands start to slide down your body again. His right hand slides behind you to trace your back, and his left opts to take the front. He stops at your breast–giving it a firm squeeze when he gets it in his grasp. Your nipple hardens under his firm touch, a small whimper getting lost in his mouth as he explores your body. The hand on your back pulls you impossibly closer, pressing your much smaller body tight to his.

He continues his assault on your breast for another minute or so, all while continuing to kiss you with a certain ferocity. His tongue leaves your mouth to lap up the saliva surrounding your lips and you erupt in shivers when the hand squeezing your breast starts to trail lower. He traces your curves until he reaches the metal of your belt buckle. His digits slowly begin to work at the buckle, setting the button on your jeans free once he's worked it open. He kisses you as he pulls the button open, his fingers grabbing hold of the zipper and slowly pulling it down. It feels like it takes him an eternity to work your jeans open, but your body buzzes with excitement when you hear the zipper coming down.

He stops for a moment, continuing to kiss you as his hand rests there on the buckle of your jeans. You slide your hand back up to his shoulders and softly rub the muscles there, pulling a quiet whimper from his lips. Yes, a whimper. From Ghost.

Fuck. If that doesn't get you wet, nothing will. But it does. In that moment, you feel the arousal start to ooze out of your cunt. You may have thought you started your period if you weren't sure it was because of him. You can't help but rub your thighs together when the pressure starts to become uncomfortable. Ghost takes notice of this and pulls away from you. His fingers begin to dance with the hem of your underwear.

"Tell me to stop." He repeats against your lips, still barely above a whisper. You can feel his eyes burning into you, but yours are still closed.

The cool leather of his glove meets with your sensitive skin when you don't answer him. Slowly, achingly slowly, his fingers sink under your underwear to find what he wants so desperately right now.

You whine when the leather touches your sensitive skin there, his fingers sink down through your folds to truly feel where you're warmest. His fingers glide easily through your arousal; the texture of his clove adds a bit more feeling to it.

"Fuck." he curses against your lips as he continues to rub around your needy hole.

He uses his fingers to collect your wetness and drags it up to that swollen bundle of nerves. He uses your own arousal to prepare you. His thumb begins to rub firm circles over your clit, causing you shudder and whimper in his arms. Your eyes squeeze shut harder, face heating up and turning red. Something you never thought he'd see—the freckles on your cheeks being revealed by the change in color on your face. Your fingers dig hard into his shoulders, holding on for what feels like dear life.

It's been a decade since you've been with a man. It's not something you were particularly proud of, because nothing could quite scratch that itch like the touch of a man. But your job kept you busy, and you felt just fine pleasuring yourself. You were always an independent woman. But fuck. Fuck. His touch felt like fire. Like pure bliss. The way he continued to draw tight circles over your clit while his palm flattened on your cunt and two large fingers sunk into your wet heat. They were so big, so strong while they pumped you full. It wasn't long before he found that spot too–the spongy piece of heaven deep inside your core.

Your head tumbles back on your shoulders, mouth falling open silently as his fingers work magic inside you. He leans forward, bringing his lips to your chest where it's open from the u-neck undershirt– peppering kisses on the warm skin there. Your hand involuntarily comes up to caress the back of his head. Such a sweet sentiment he does, while absolutely ruining your brief innocence with his fingers. You whimper and cry for him as he pumps and pumps and pumps.

You let out one harsh breath, followed by a quiet but sweet whimper– and out tumbles his name.

Simon.

That's all it takes to break him. He huffs a hard breath against your chest and kisses the skin one more time before pulling back, taking the hand out of your pants with him.

You gasp at the lack of contact. You almost open your eyes in the shuffle but as if he knew what was going to happen, his hand comes up to cover your eyes.

"Lay down. Now." He orders.

He guides you back a few steps, hand still over your eyes. You feel him stand, and he brings a hand to your shoulder to guide you back towards the mattress. Your legs hit the edge and cause you to fall to your back. His hand leaves your face, but you obediently keep them closed for him. He shuffles a bit before his hands are on you again, slipping your combat boots off one at a time. Then his hands are on your waist, pulling your jeans and underwear down in one swoop. Involuntarily, your hands shoot down to cover your core and you hear him grunt.

"Don't hide from me, sergeant." He says in the deep english tone.

His hands meet yours and wrap around them, slowly pulling them off your weeping cunt. A breath leaves his mouth harshly when you're revealed to him. He kneels instantly, large hands flattening against the inside of your thighs, at the apex of your legs and waist. On each side of where he just had his fingers deep. His hot breath fans against your sex.

"Fucking perfect." He says as he fits himself between your legs. His hands slide from the top, all the way to your calves to pull them up and over his shoulders.

You shudder in anticipation, back arching slightly in presentation. Ghost takes notice.

"Dirty girl." He praises

That's the last thing he says before he dives in. His mouth closes over your swollen clit, tongue circling you in a delicious dance. Your back immediately arches even more, muscles tensing down below. His tongue is smooth as it glides so elegantly over that center of pleasure. He moans into you, drinking the taste of you in. The top half of his face is still covered, only letting the bottom half of his face free so he can eat you out like this.

Your hands desperately search for purchase. They start by clenching the bedsheets, before twitching hard and moving to lay on your tummy. His hands find yours quickly and he presses down, anchoring your much smaller hands under his to your tummy. His fingers thread through yours and give a reassuring squeeze. It's odd. You'd never think of him as the gentle type. But he always seemed to surprise you.

Your hands start to close on his head, holding him still right where you want him. Anxious fingers gripping the mask and holding him down. He moans again, the vile wet sounds of his dirty act echoing through the room as he pulls you closer to an orgasm. His hands hold you steady as he pushes his face in deeper, completely enveloping his face in you. His cock grows achingly hard in his jeans, throbbing to be set free. One of his hands leaves yours to come down and insert two large fingers in yet again.

Something white and hot starts to stir in your lower belly. Like a thread being pulled tight on each end, ready to snap at any given moment. Your cunt starts to clench impossibly tight around Ghost's fingers and he moans into you yet again.

"Atta girl. I can feel it. Give me a good one." He encourages through licks.

Fuck, his voice. The tone and the accent–they do something to you. His voice repeats in the back of your mind as your muscles tense all at once. A hoarse whimper leaves your lips as he nibbles down on your little clit, cunt pulling tight and hot as the thread finally snaps and he gets what he asked for. You cum all over his face, body convulsing from the over stimulation as he continues to suck on you through the pulses. Your fingers lock dead in his mask–you think you can feel his hair. It's thick.

He groans into you, his voice vibrating your lower body as he slows his pace and inevitably decides to take pity on you and stop.

You feel his mouth leave your cunt as you struggle to catch your breath. His hands leave you too. Slightly concerned, you start to sit up. Your eyes are still closed. His hands stop you from standing up.

"Bloody delicious you are, sweet girl."

His hand caresses your jaw, and you hear him fumbling with his belt buckle, followed by the sound of his zipper coming down.

"Open."

Your eyes flutter open and you glance up at him standing tall over you. His mask is pulled back down to conceal his mouth. You lock eyes with him and stare him down as he begins to pull his cock out of his jeans. You keep your eyes on him until he breaks contact for a moment. He glances down towards his cock and then back at you. You take the hint and slowly lower your gaze until you meet his cock in all its glory. He's big–covered in veins. His tip is red and smeared with pre-cum. Gods, you got him this wound up?

"You want this?" He asks.

You don't have to answer him. The lustful look in your eyes as you glance back up at him is enough to make his cock jump. He growls low in his throat.

"Turn around. Bend over."

Not having to be told twice, you do as you're told. You stand and turn so your back is facing him. You bend down, revealing your cunt from behind as you find your place bent over the bed for him. His massive form stalks behind you–like you're his prey. Just waiting to be captured. His macho, mean, attitude has always sent chills down your spine. This situation was no different.

His hand finds your waist, gripping on your side as his other holds his heavy cock up to position it at your entrance. While he rubs the head of his cock through your slick to prepare it, the hand holding your waist moves to the center of your lower back and his palm flattens. He pushes down, forcing you to arch in presentation for him. He curses under his breath. Fucking perfect. Beautiful little cunt.

His heavy boots shuffle closer as the head of his cock begins to breach your tight hole. Your breath catches at the sudden intrusion. The hand on your lower back holds you steady as he starts pushing forward until he's fully sheathed inside you. You let a moan slip when the hand on your back starts to rub up and down you slowly, almost in a comforting manner.

"Fuck." He groans out when he bottoms out.

He starts with deep thrusts, getting your cervix used to the invasion. Your knees begin to buckle. No need to worry though. His hands both move to either side of your waist to hold you up as he begins to thrust a little faster–pulling out farther and re-sheathing himself. His back straightens and his head falls back in pleasure as soft groans come from under the mask. Your moans join him as the wet sounds of your combined arousal fills the room.

You moan sweetly–which teases him. A strong, capable woman like yourself reduced to a whimpering mess under her Lieutenant. It spurs him on and makes him needy.

He starts thrusting at a more harsh pace now. His hips collide with yours as the bed rattles on its old, dilapidated frame. The metal digging into the wooden floor. His hands squeeze your hips tight and he pulls you back onto him in time with his own thrusts.

"Insatiable woman. Drive me mad with this body." He grunts as his hips slam into yours.

"Simon–" you whimper out, cut off by a particularly sharp thrust.

"You--you know what you do to me, woman?" He starts between harsh breaths as he pounds into you. "Can't keep my eyes off you. You're a goddamn distraction–" he continues to moan loudly, not caring if anyone may hear. "--walk around in those tight ass jeans….n'that low cut shirt. You do it on purpose, don't you?"

"M's-sorry sir–" you manage to whimper as he continues to pound into you.

"The fuck you are." He says before another hard thrust. His grunts, leaning forward to grab a fistful of your hair and pull your head back.

The same sensation from earlier starts to boil over again. The thread is pulled tight once more, ready to snap at any given moment as he continues to hammer into the sensitive spot inside you. His breathing is heavy, grunting loudly in your ear as pounds down into you. You start to tighten around him once more and once again, he takes notice right away.

"Already, sweet girl? Can you give me another good one?"

You whimper his name.

"Words."

"Yes." You moan.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, Simon."

"Good fucking girl."

He relases your hair and stands up straight, anchoring down on your hips and letting absolutely fucking loose. He starts pounding into you ruthlessly. His hips jackhammering into yours and rendering you speechless. His harsh thrusts steal the air from your lungs. All you can do is lay there, drool like a dog and take his cock the way he needs to give it to you.

Your orgasm snaps through you and burns like wildfire. Your body rocks violently back against his and he groans when you start to clench around him.

This was unlike any experience you've ever had. It was hard for any of your past partners to get you off, period. Ghost just made you cum twice. And violently.

"Fuck. Where do you want it?" He asks.

It takes you a few hard thrusts to try and speak–trying to gain your composure and suck some air back in your lungs to speak.

"In-inside–please–" you manage to moan.

For the first time this evening, his movements falter. He seems unsure as he tries to regain his rhythm.

"That's–no, no I can't….you'll…" he grunts as he continues to rut into you.

"Safe. I-I promise." You whimper out. "Wanna feel you."

"Fuuuuck." He groans out, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chases his release. His hands come up to grab your shoulders, anchoring down as he continues fucking your raw.

"Don't move. Don't fucking move, sweet girl. Gonna--gonna fill you up, make you mine."

"Simon--" you whimper out.

That last whimper is what seems to take him over edge. He groans your name one last time before his hips bottom out again and come to a screeching hault. You feel his cock start to throb before the warmth of his cum begins filling you. He shoots what feel like endless streams of his while juices inside until it starts overflowing and running down your thighs. You lay there on your stomach trying to catch your breath. Not long after, you hear the heaving mess of a man who just rearranged you collapse to his knees behind you. You hear him turn to sit on hid ass, shifting to lean up against the bed.

You lay there exhausted, listening to the sounds of his labored breathing. You're too worn out to move, so you opt to stay where you are. Not even caring what a mess you look like.

After a few minutes you feel yourself beginning to drift off to sleep. The exhaustion is taking over. It gets quiet after a few more minutes and you feel completely relaxed. You're so out of it, you don't notice Ghost getting up from his spot on the floor.

You don't feel him softly cleaning you with one of his extra shirts.

You don't feel him start to re-dress you.

And you don't feel him lay you down on the bed, when he climbs in behind you and wraps his arms around you.

And in the morning, it suprises you when he asks you about your time in the United States Marine Corps.

#simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #call of duty #smut #Egon

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sandiavolo · 2 months

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*Important Update*

Warning: long rants ahead.

Contents Ahead (skip ahead if you want, pls):

Apologies

Thank You's

Avatar 3 News

As the Ash Cloud Passes Over Update

Greetings and salutations all! I would like to start out by saying I am so so so sorry for disappearing for awhile. To put it quite simply, I have no excuses to make nor reasons to claim behind my lack in progress. I have had so much time these last two months to write, and I somehow fell into a constant cycle of procrastination and forgetfulness where I was completely aware of what I was doing. It's not that I even fell off the Avatar fandom or was busy, I'm just a terrible writer (it's natural for me to be overtly honest with myself, I swear it's not worrisome at all!) BUT I am so happy to let y'all know I've gotten back in the groove! Inspiration has hit me hard, and I feel the need to type like there's no tomorrow. Again, I am so sorry for anyone who's ask I may have missed/comment I may not have replied to/or question I left unanswered 🙏

First off, lemme just say this. @anka-partizanka-from-pandora is the SINGLE GREATEST ARTIST AND PERSON I HAVE EVER HAD THE PLEASURE OF WORKING WITH! Truthfully, they deserve your love, you guys! I do not care if it gets tiring or old to hear, b/c I mean it with my entire heart when I say Anka has been holding me up in times of writers block and troubles with writing. They are my partner, friend, & inspiration. I love ya, Anka 💙

I recently saw the videos and images for Avatar 3 and I just gotta say...LET'S. FREAKING. GOOOOOOOOOO!!!! The Ash Clan is sheer horror and I am already in love! The flying creatures are insanely awesome, especially the Medusa floating ship, LIKE WHAT THE HECK IS GOING ON?! I DON'T KNOW BUT I LOVE IT! And lastly, I'm just gonna put this out there, VARANG HAS LITERALLY STOLEN MY HEART! Sharp claws, frilled headress, a cloak of severed kurus (possibly)?! SLAY QUEEN! I genuinely don't think I will be able to root agasint her, but we'll see. And I do think I will be trying to change up a few things to include what little info we have gotten so far. It's just too good to pass up on!

I am proud to announce that As the Ash Cloud Passes Over Ch. 14 will be published very, very soon. I mean within the next few days 😁 It has been so long, so I plan to send this one off with a bang. I'm talking angst, lore, action, a sick splash of Ash Na'vi Spider, the whole she-bang! And tomorrow, there will even be a special sneak peak!

That is all I wish to say! Now, I must welcome the glorious hug of unconsciousness that is my slumber. I want to go out by saying (to whoever reads this): thank you so much 🙏 This is still a pleasure in my life, and seeing my story grow even without me means everything. But, in all facuality, you guys are my everything. I know we have had our break-ups and silent treatments, but I'll always love you guys 💙💙💙 Have a great day, grab an ice cold tea, and enjoy life y'all!

#avatar #avatar spider #avatar the way of water #ao3 #avatar fanfiction #fanfic

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evorathesylvurr · 16 days

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i cant believe no one else in the limbus fandom is also into neopets.

"evora what does this mean" it means i know too much god damn neopets lore.

spoilers that go up to violet dawn walpurgis! you have been warned.

yi sang seems like the type who would have a kacheek or two

kacheeks are known for their friendly disposition. theyre also one of my favorites but thats unrelated. he'd also probably have a eyrie.

he'd be the type who has done all the plots. even the ones before he joined. (how? don't ask.)

faust is a crazy aisha lady. look. look. as an aisha enjoyer, i get to claim this one as one of us. aishas whole thing is being really smart.

faust strikes me as the type who would enjoy the battledome honestly. theres so much strategy that she probably cant have the faust hivemind tell her what to do.

don quixote spends neocash to have extra slots so she can dress up all her little guys. she chooses team altador every single time and also her favorite is a gelert.

don probably has event exclusive items but she probably got them off of her friends. also she has every limited time pet.

ryoshu would probably have a WONDERFUL time on neopets so long as she doesnt get her account frozen lmao. girl do not post your art. girl the neoboards arent ready for it. girl your spyders.

yeah all of her neopets are spooky themed or red/phantom/halloween depending on what they can be painted. you will never get her to admit it but her favorite neo is her jetsam.

meursault would play if only because he is autistic and so am i. maybe a shoryu (takes a second for info to load)

meursault knows the ins and outs of the neoconomy. like, jellyneo is in his head.

hong lu has a uni. i was going to give a uni to yi sang for the whole wings thing but unis fit hong lu so much better. this man spends so much money on neocash i do not care if hes actually been cut off from his rich family funds. he is using his salary for his silly little digital unicorns.

he shares don's enthusiasm for the game because i said so :) no i think this small little thing might be really healing for him if his family is shit. neopets makes me cry every now and then like for real because its so warm.

heathcliff picked neopets up because of ▢▢▢▢▢. his favorite is the lupe but he also quite likes acaras.

he takes SUCH good care of his neopets. he doesnt even put them in the lodge. he does his daily games to get his neopoints, goes to buy them food, feeds them, grooms them, plays with them, etc. they have perfect stats but theyve never seen a day in the battledome.

ishmael has a flotsam and thats it. no but she actually mostly has maraquan neos which means shes limited to customizing them :( her favorite is her maraquan vandagyre.

ishmael customizes her neos as best she can. they have the best enrichment tanks. ishmael is also insane at destruct-o-match. do not competitive 1v1 her in destruct-o-match you WILL lose.

rodya has a kyrii and a ruki. she has extensive lore for her neos and you should NOT ask her about it.

rodya is active as hell in the neoboards and she helps everyone with their fairie quests so much. rodya shop wizard extrodinaire. we love you.

sinclair is a pound adopter. his lore is his bruce came from the pound and now they go around adopting pound neopets. every single neo aside form his bruce was a pound adopt.

sinclair does those pound rescue touchups you see every now and then where they take a pet in the pound, give it a new paint job and/or lab zap, and return them to the pound so they have a better chance at getting a forever home.

outis plays neopets too because i said so. average scorchio and grarrl enjoyer though.

enjoys a good chia flouring. she uses her fucking paycheck to chia flour small kid's neopets (she doesnt do it to the other sinners she might be mean but she knows for a FACT she will not hear the end of it for MONTHS)

gregor's main neo is a blumaroo actually :3 i could have given him a buzz or a ruki but that is a cheap blow and i actually think it's cuter to give him the little bouncy guy :3

he enjoys playing the minigames and he leaves his pets in the lodge :( but its ok theyre having fun at the lodge.

#how do i tag this. limbus is NOT neopets friendly.#a lot of this is headcanon but all the neopets lore is actual reasons.#me giving all of the sinners a trait or two of mine when it comes to neopets: >:3 #ishmael being good at destruct-o-match is a trait i will proudly brag.#i do not have a high score in destruct-o-match i just like it a lot.#limbus company #evora original #neopets #how do i tag this #maybe draw some of this later lmao.#show roommate #<- if only so she can betaread the neopets post lmao

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moondyad · 17 days

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sometimes i scroll all the way over to that "news" section on my phone and see random articles recommended to me by google. today i was met with this article:

(you don't have to read it or give it any traction, it doesn't deserve that. it's simply here for context)

confused by the title, i was hooked into reading it. but the conclusion was simply, "My Lady Jane almost got as many renewal signatures as The Acolyte got, so the fans who did sign the petition are a vocal minority." and then went on to say this:

and i went "oh". these questions told me everything i needed to know about the author, he was a cis white guy. i scrolled to the end and sure enough, i was right. it really pisses me off when people are so entitled that they think something is just for them and should never branch out into appealing to other demographics. watching a cis white man protagonist in a movie or series never bothered me, why does it bother a cis white man when that situation is reversed, unless it comes down to bigotry?

forgotten what they are? the original trilogy was anti-war messaging and influenced heavily by a Japanese film, The Hidden Fortress. like frankly, shut the hell up. i'm so sorry that you got 7 (the new one making it 8) movies and ~7 series where a protagonist was a cis man who you could relate to. why is it so wrong to have media be "something for everyone" without the implicit reason being to alienate poc, lgbtq, or other minorities from your fandom.

yes, there is this almost weird corporate pandering where minorities get shoved in a role to be the "token", we generally don't like that shit either. we don't want half-baked representation. having a black woman protagonist just... being on the screen, is not "woke" corporate pandering!! what do you do if you pass a black woman on the street? scream, cry, throw a fit? i'm sorry to tell you that people exist?

i know this fandom is full of older white men, but i am continually surprised by the general narrow-mindedness and lack of media literacy that is so prevalent among them. when they willfully ignore the more progressive messaging of the original movies, it's like the alt-right manosphere space using The Matrix as a "stop being a societal sheep" metaphor when the directors and writers of the movie were two trans women who intended for the movie to be a metaphor for transformation. i won't say transness explicitly, because both of them were closeted at the time of making it and admit they only knew how to depict that in the form of their character, Switch, who was a trans allegory.

i for one was left with more questions than answers at the end of The Acolyte. i am a very lore-focused individual and tend to dissect things with the culmination of the information i know. but i did not hate the show. the characterization didn't have enough time to breathe for decisions to have felt earned, and just in general the pacing was quite fast. the newer concepts like heavily grey characters and Osha/Mae being the same person were very exciting to me, and i had hoped to learn more about Qimir in the next season. now i'll never get that chance.

if criticisms of the show stuck to the fast pacing or plot holes, we wouldn't be having this discussion. i like to think that one day these older fans will recognize the irony of their stances, but it might just be wishful thinking.

#sorry this is so long #i'm just so tired #“i'm not racist/homophobic/etc i just hate seeing that stuff in MY media”#stfu #the acolyte #qimir #osha aniseya #mae aniseya #one of my coworkers told me that Osha and Jecki's relationship bothered him and then he said something along the lines of #“oh well if her moms are gay then that means she's gay right?”#bro really thought once your family line is locked into the gay setting you can't go back #bisexual people don't exist wdym??#i was dumbfounded #imagine if the whole cast and show was whitewashed/straight #i doubt there would be anywhere near this much outrage #white men don't be racist challenge #level: star wars

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vegaly-art · 8 months

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Vegaly Art's Giant Vega Masterpost

Due to recent events in the Vega fandom, which my heart was not prepared for, I have elected to make a cohesive Vega lore post <3. This will be updated with new discoveries with time, and I will keep it as up-to-date as possible. Also be warned this post is VERY long and extensive, and contains much speculation, opinions, and theories, as well as facts, so please make sure to take what I write here with a grain of salt as it is my interpretation of the character/events. Last updated: July 29, 2024. Note, this post contains direct spoilers for Carpe Deus, Imperium Cataclysm, Hush, and Sovereign State, as well as the lore videos and Reductive Audio #7. And also minor spoilers for Sadism's Hold, and potentially other videos/series on the channel. The parts so far are as follows: Part 1: Covers Vega's changing views towards violence against Fellow Demons Part 2: Timeline theories of mine related to when Deferred Judgement took place Part 3: Analysing Carpe Deus, Vega's characterisation, interactions with Hush and potential for his future story Part 4: Analysing Imperium Vega, and what we can learn about both how Imperium functions, and Vega himself thanks to Imperium Part 5: He would sacrifice you to save the world. Part 6: Additional Thoughts that do not fit prior categories

Vega, Vega, Vega. Stellar Formed, First Formed of Gravity, Congruent of D'Deridahn, Bound in his Madrigal. The man, the myth, the legend... There is so much interesting shit about this man to discuss, and I want to cover it ALL because... I am in mourning man.

Today I'll be going over his videos, and in later updates, I'll make new sections that go more into his lore, characterisation in Imperium, etc.

Part 1: Sadism's Hold and Demonic Alliance

Vega was first introduced not in his own series, but instead as a likely one-off or short-term villain in Sadism's Hold, having been the one behind Ivan's behaviour. I find it quite interesting actually how his characterisation then was, especially when trying to put it into context with his later ideals shown in Carpe Deus. Specifically, knowing what we know now about what he was doing with Ivan, AND that he believes Daemons should help one another, his treatment of Caelum is really fucking interesting.

Vega said in Under a Sadistic Demon's Care, "to attack a fellow Demon as they did… well. Let’s just say they got what was coming to them", when referencing the Solitaires' attack on Warden. But it is curious that he seemed so unphased attacking Caelum, and later Gavin as well. Why is that?

Well, I think it's for a few reasons. Firstly, logically speaking, Vega was trying to defend his turf and his project from Caelum, and later Gavin who began to get in his way. Vega is shown later down the line to not at all be opposed to harming others who get in his way, especially when related to Hush. Though he does not really explicitly threaten Hush in the same way Hush did him, he does make it very clear he WILL turn violent if need be, in a less direct way. And his project with Ivan and Baby 2.0 was very VERY important to his plan, so he may feel defensive of it. But this is just the logical justification, which I don't actually thing is sufficient. While true, I think it's actually not the main reason he changed his opinion so much, that can be seen as reasonable in the text.

I actually thing the main reason he changed his opinion was because he was lying. In part. I do think he saved Warden, but not because he believed it wrong for demons to attack fellow demons for their own goals, especially when Warden stood in the way of the Solitaires' plans. No. I think he protected Warden because he grew mildly fond of them, and also believed they could be useful for his plans/investigations, and so did not want them to die, because they had utility. I will expand upon this more in the Vega/Warden relationship analysis section which I plan to make, but he clearly holds Warden as someone very interesting and very dear to him. Of course he would protect Warden, and also lie about why to make himself seem a bit more noble and moral, to warm them up to him. He wants their trust, he NEEDS their trust/compliance actually, to stop them from going back to the department. So, he lied, and he manipulated, and he gaslit, until he saw Warden trusted him and he no longer had to twist the truth, and could be somewhat genuine... it's fucked up, but I think it makes sense of the retcon in character, AND has metatextual evidence through the content warnings on his videos. :P

Part 2: The Timeline

Most of Carpe Deus, up until Deferred Judgement, has been posted on Erik's lore site, which is really nice because it allows me to have a clear idea of when things take place. Only issue is... well... the date for Deferred Judgement is NOT on there (Update: Still isn't. Sobs.) so I have to do some guesswork.

I think there are 2 main possibilities, both of which are equally likely to me.

The first is that this all took place slightly before Inversion, likely sometime in December. This is my personal opinion but not the most popular take. I believe this based on a few factors. Mostly travel time. Would it really take several months for Vega/Warden to get from their hideout (I believed it to be Ivan's place but technically this is never stated, and I ended up changing my mind more recently with new evidence) back to Dahlia?? They could not have rifted since Vega took a human with the pair of them, so unless they were outside of Dahlia and had a long way to go, or got caught up in a bunch of shit like being tracked, etc, it is hard to believe. Especially since on their own, they can rift. Also I think that the Inversion could be a great time for Vega to return since he would have a lot to feed on. The playlist does not say completed so I do assume by some means Vega will come back. Maybe he comes from the river with the shades and has a feast within the bubble. Maybe some magic brings him back?? Idk. But regardless, Inversion would be a place/time that can really progress Vega AND Warden in terms of the power they have on hand thanks to all those emotions. It just feels... thematic.

The other option, which has some more support from the timeline is that this took place right after Inversion and the raid on Closeknit. Obviously, the fact they were exploring an abandoned Closeknit facility is the main reasoning for this. (Also, Hush could have reason to stop Vega because Blake had not yet finished conversing with D'Deridhan and likely returning to the land of the living. This is something we learn about a bit after I wrote this but it supports this interpretation heavily). And the main caveat here would be that for this to be the case, Vega and Warden would both have needed to be stations well outside of Dahlia, and likely taken their time and not rifted to get back there. Probably to preserve energy, avoid Solitaire, Department or Chorus detection, feed, etc. It is possible for them to have taken 2-3 months, but it is... not something I think is super likely? Especially since Warden seems to treat Dahlia like home. Granted, the Solitaires broke into the Dahlia Department facility during Inversion so I could see that they did the facility Vega/Warden were in as a test run, and then the Dahlia one which is likely even higher security, as their big move. But it seems to be the consensus in the fandom and I will defend my theory that this was before inversion until I am proven wrong. (You were proven wrong indirectly bud. So sorry <3. You tried your best though.)

Part 3: Carpe Deus/Vega's Death

Carpe Deus showed a very nice and interesting side of Vega, and I am so glad we got to see it. It was fun to see him be scheming, to see him slowly open up in a way Imperium, due to the constraints of the original videos, did not really have the chance to do with him and Pet. Seeing him develop a rapport and show off some of his past was so sweet... and what he explained is fascinating.

Obviously, the Sovereign stuff is fucking WILD. (And this is from the future, but now, seeing what is happening with Blake, the fact this knowledge is currently lost makes the stakes SO much higher). We did know that they were real beforehand due to Sovereign State, of course, and other videos like Regulus and whatnot, but it was interesting to have a character who literally LIVED THROUGH IT. Someone so intimately familiar with the past.

And also, what I love about him is his moral alignment and his goals. Vega believes that pain and suffering is necessary, important, and something that must be remembered. He clearly values his own memory of the past, even if it's imperfect. And he believed he must preserve it to be able to learn from history. And in Imperium the same trait is carried through which I WILL GET TO when I write about Imp!Vega <3 <3. My beloved. But anyhow- yeah. He values memory, and he is clearly a very strategic, rational thinker. Yknow, I had the thought that he seemed like a General, and Imperium basically confirmed that in my head. That is my headcanon. He has a very... Odysseus like vibe to him. This wise and cunning leader, who is willing to make great sacrifices and has likely lost so much, and is willing to make others lose things too for what is, at the end of the day, the greater good.

He is cruel but not needlessly. He is cold and distant, but he cares about preserving the world and making sure it keeps going. It may be because he plans to live eternally and wants Eternity to be nice for him but, even if his intentions were 100% selfish (I do not think they are/were, I think he was projecting an image with that line), it still betters the world. Which is amazing <3. And makes him really nuanced. <3 <3

Now, on the subject of the most recent video, I have an interesting thought that will get it's own mini section sooo

Part 3.5: Deferred Judgement

I find the title of this video to be... really odd. Deferred judgment cannot really relate to Warden nor Hush. Hush did not defer judgment, since he is so trigger-happy, and Warden doubtfully could provide judgment. So applying the title to Vega, it would make sense that his judgement would be deferred because he was removed from Elegy for potentially a while. Also, the fact that the series title, "Carpe Deus", which... has only happened with this one video, and makes me think that it is part of the point of the video or something going on in the background. Maybe Hush is a god of sorts, or some other shit??? Idk. But its a really odd choice and I need to think on it more.... (Mini update, I made a Hush post. You can find it here <3. It also covers some stuff about Vega but it is more rambling so I think it is good that it is separate.)

Part 3.6: Reforming a Sadism Demon

So... update, update, Vega is back!! But... very broken :(((. Which is so fucking sad. And also makes complete sense considering... well... that Hush basically exploded him. Also now that we know a bit more about Hush, and that he is an Egregore of Sovereigns (Likely Min'Ara and E'Laetum but I have another post about that up), it's making me rethink my analysis of the prior title. It seems I was right on the front that Vega was the one whose judgement was deferred. He has not only been stopped from pursuing what/who is likely... what remains of Blake down under the Closeknit HQ, but also his memory needs rebuilding so his judgement of the Sovereigns is also on pause for a while as he pieces himself together. (I used to think that it was another HQ, since the timeline did not add up, but now we basically know for sure thanks to Hush's comments that this is the one Closeknit location in Dahlia and so this stuff happened a bit after Inversion and the Raid in January.)

Also, I made a post theorising about the signification of Vega's name, regarding D'Deridhan being the Sovereign of Gravity (Later confirmed), as well as Vega being the first Sadism Demon and my thoughts on that, and other lore shit. I forgot this post existed by that point, but to be fair that other one was way more rambly so I think it's ok. You can find it here if you would like to read more on my thoughts on this video specifically, in a less structured format.

But anyhow, yeah... not much more to say on this besides I cannot wait for Vega to meet Warden. And also I wonder if Warden may have gotten some of Vega's memories when his physical shell was ripped open and his magic spilled out. It could be a really cool way to learn a bit about his memories, and it also could just be... kind of a cute plot device??? We shall see. <3 <3 <3 I cannot wait to see more of him <3.

Part 4: Imperium Vega, the General

Imperium was a wonderful story and a wonderful AU, especially because it let us see some inherent and variable traits of each character, how they dealt with new situations, and what their 'worst selves' could be. With one odd, and notable exception.

Vega.

Vega... barely changed between the two versions of the story, with the main difference simply being his not having a strong distaste for humanity. Which actually says a lot about how Imperium functions.

So, in Imperium, the Sovereigns were caged in Aria, and most daemons elected to stay there, while others appear to have been booted out and, due to not knowing how to rift, were unable to return and had to feed on emotions entirely to survive. As such, the concentration of Daemons is FAR lower, the security needed for them is basically the same as that for a person because... well... they can't rift (besides Vega. We will get to that). And ironically, Vega seemed the best poised of anyone to thrive there. The Imperium gave him a constant food source, in comparison to someone like Vindemiator or Brachium who had to take what they could get. And so, surrounded by humanity, Vega likely learned to rely more on them.

My theory personally as to why he is so similar is that his history was relatively unchanged. He was alive for the Cacophony, he experienced the cruelty of the Sovereigns and them being put away, and he left Aria to live amongst humanity without giving up his daemonic nature. Only difference now is that... well... there were so many fewer daemons, and he likely could never return to Aria for his own safety. Or if he did return, I expect he did not stay long enough to build rapport. So, he grew fond of humans, and even after seeing them at their worst, found they were unfortunately all he had to rely on. And he knew the Sovereigns were still a source of magical fuel, so he may feel that independence from humanity ALREADY EXISTED for daemonkind, they just had to learn to rift and they would be set and would not have to think about humans.

But clearly... he grew fond. Fond enough to take a human, who he would outlive thousands of times over, and who he HAS outlived thousands of times already, as a partner. He took it upon himself to help protect the resistance and random people like Freelancer. He made a whole set of plans, a whole way of attack. He pulled strings to get Vampires on their side. And the only reason his plan went sideways was because of Brachium's selfishness, callousness and lack of ability to listen to reason. Imperium Brachium drives me up the walls, but this is not about him... or Vindemiator who is also really bad but at least his actions did not have major consequences. Woo...

But yeah. The man is a strategist. He is clearly very good at planning, and his goals, while differing, did not change him much. Because he was formed by thousands of years of seeing humanity at its worst, so of course in Imperium he would have been unchanged. He would still be cold, and willing to risk the lives of others, and generally a cruel, but... not unnecessarily cruel individual, who wishes for a greater good and moves heaven and earth to do that. But sadly... Brachium fucked up. And Avior and Starlight got caught by Min'Ara and E'Laetum and had NO CHOICE but to follow their commands. While what they did was arguably more risky than Brachium they have much more leeway because of the duress they were under and all that. And now with the Sovereigns GONE... I wonder what Vega would do. I wonder how he would try to find independence for Daemons, or if he even would since he spent so long with humans. Would he instead think to try and have the pair coexist, since the Meridian is... kind of a non-issue for the foreseeable... functionally forever. Not literally but... functionally.

I doubt we will get more Imperium content but it is incredible to think that in two different worlds like that, Vega ended up being so similar. It says a lot about him, his principles, and what not. It... it makes me adore him... a lot. He is consistent and he is strong and he is smart and I cannot wait for what he and Warden get up to. Especially since they have the capacity for a much closer bond than Vega and Pet.

Vega and Pet are... so cute... and so sweet... but tragic. Because again, Pet WILL die... if not by Vampires then by old age or accidents or something or other. Warden can stay alongside Vega and truly understand him in a way few can. I hope that comes to something.

Part 5: He Would Sacrifice You to Save the World

Vega is clearly a man willing to give up a LOT for his mission. He is a slave to his ambition, who hurt likely quite a number of people directly or not for his goals and will likely continue to do so. He manipulates and he clearly tries to minimise damages (I believe that is PURELY for pragmatic 'I don't want to get caught' reasons but that is a whole other thing) but it's clear based on Imperium where he is… almost entirely unchanged, besides the fact his ambitions are different, that he is willing to sacrifice a LOT, including people he GENUINELY cares a lot about or respects, like Avior.

And it gave me the thought: IF he had not been ripped and reformed by Hush. IF he did not lose all his memories. IF he did not now have to rely on Warden to piece together his plans and make them function because his mind is so scattered and they are his only lead… and IF it ever came down to a choice between saving their life, or saving his own/preserving his mission/some other major success in his plans… He would give them up. He would let them die. He would sacrifice them for the sake of his future.

Because 1 life, even if it is a life of the only person who has treated him like a person in so so long… is not worth the lives of thousands. Vega is a slave to his ambition. Unlike Blake, or Avior, or even Brachium, with whom he shares some fundamental traits, histories, or new circumstances… he is not a slave to emotion and to care.

In Imperium, Pet did not aid his goal, so he did not have to risk their life. Warden is different. And I hope he relies on them too much to give them up now.

Because if not I do not know if my heart could handle it.

Would it have happened metatextually??? Probably not. No. Having a speaker kill off, abandon or otherwise remove their listener from the picture would probably be unsatisfying from a narrative and relationship perspective. At best we could see Vega break/cry/get emotional at the loss, but he would then keep moving. But I think character-wise it is truly the only option he would even CONSIDER… and only now is that different because he is so low and so weak, and he has no other choice but to keep Warden alive to keep his own plans and his own ambitions alive.

Part 6: Assorted Other Thoughts

This section will be about any lingering thoughts that do not fit into all these other sections and will be much less organised sooo- let's go!

Sooo- Vega was the second Daemon EVER MADE. FUCKING INSANE. And also makes me think he was a general even more because he had so much seniority, and Polaris is fucking... dead. Rip. Also fun to know that he was not formed in the Elission well! Because it was not made yet. Idk. Fun tid bits from the Daemon lore video <3.

In the most recent Reductive Audios, we learn about how E'Laetum kind of hates Vega which I find fucking hilarious. And considering I think Hush is made from E'Laetum and Min'Ara's thoughts, I have to assume Min'Ara was a bigger basis for him because man... he would NOT have tried to revive Vega otherwise. Same if D'Deridhan was a big part of Hush's creation. I can only imagine that Sovereigned up Blake and Vega would have the most... tense and horribly cruel dynamic if they ever met. Best of luck Blake because you get the short end of the stick.

Vega's Odysseus connections run so deep to me. I discussed them previously and I may well be projecting because I love Epic the Musical right now but I can't be the only one who sees it. Especially because in the Odyssey, Odysseus is forced to learn to put down his pride and use cunning rather than violence and cruelty to get through encounters in his life, but ALSO learn to be ok with loss and with being cruel. Vega I think has learned most of these lessons already and will likely relearn them as he gets back his memories. Right now he seems... emotional, and somewhat logical, but clearly missing large parts of his scheming persona, and potentially his propensity for violence and willingness to be cruel to humanity. I think it would be interesting to see him go through learning about both cunning like Odysseus in The Odyssey, and Ruthlessness like Odysseus in EPIC, but from the perspective of someone like Warden. Also potentially learning about him being a general would be... some very nice fanservice Erik <3. I am not trying to say anything buuuuuut- /s

I really hope Vega and Brachium get a chance to interact. Brachium was the last daemon made by Min'Ara herself, and thus likely the youngest or one of the youngest daemons around in the cacophony, so I wonder if he and Vega knew each other... I wonder what history they may have... I wonder... I wonder if Vega hated him for his recklessness, or admired him for his quick thinking, or if Brachium liked Vega's seriousness and strategy, or found him too cruel. Their relationship as well as Vega's potential relationships with members of the Chorus are fascinating to me. I hope we see more of that.

#love thinking about my man Vega and I hope I can do so for much much longer <3 #denial is a river in egypt and I am bathing in it #and said denial was correct FUCKING WOO!! VEGA <3 <3 <3 <3 #redacted asmr #redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted carpe deus #redacted sovereign state #redacted imperium #redacted imp!vega #redacted hush #redacted warden #redacted vega #vegaly rambles

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gayashelljatp · 11 days

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Prince Charming x James Hook | Trophy Boy Chapter 1.

Tags :Sorta Enemies to Lovers Fake/Pretend Relationship Not Canon Compliant, Inspired by Cinderella (1997), I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Prince Charming is a Bi-King, Prince Charming Is Filipino, Because the actor is and I also am one so yeah, Prince Charming gets a lot of bitches but no love, Merlin Academy (Disney), James Hook is gay, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, I don't know how to tag in this fandom, No Beta Like Not Going To Castlecoming

Summary:

Charming had himself caught up in a pretty little lie, telling his parents he had a date for his birthday ball. Desperate to stop their meddling in his love life, he came up with a plan: show up with someone who’d make the court gasp—a notorious pirate at school, James Hook. It was supposed to be a quick fix: fake a romance, cause a stir, and be free from the royal matchmakers forever. But the more time Charming spent with Hook—as a person, the sharp banter—the more complicated things got. This wasn’t just about pretending anymore. He was starting to get hooked. Or The sorta enemies to fake dating to lovers between Hook and Charming no one asked for.

Content Rating: Teen and Up.

Wordcount: 5,931

Notes (Same On AO3):

Hi, I'm Ace. But I'm here posting and writing more gay shit for the Descendants fandom.

I'm one for a crack ship and these two don't even interact in the movie so you may be wondering what made me do this. Three things actually:

I'm in the Descendants editing community and I saw this edit by @jewishvarian. Hook's actor Josh pretty much showing his support to this ship has made we want to do this.

The second inspiration is Once Upon A Time ship Captain Charming my sister had a Once Upon A Time phase so I know quite a bit about them. The third thing the catalyst for this is the fanfic Stage Call by Montythecrow. (The first chapter is really good can't wait for more. Also R.I.P. DBD I never got to make a DBD fic before it got cancelled *sighs in JATP*)

Let's do some housekeeping and explain the lore because this fic grabs from fifty million things.

- The Brandy Cinderella movie or Rodgers & Hammerstein's Cinderella (1997) as it's also known are major inspirations. I pulled the characterization of Charming from this film and the new Descendants film and I pulled the whole of Charming's parents and his butler Lionel from this movie. (Pls watch this movie. It's really fun, campy and entertaining.)

- I also took from various Prince Charming media from Cinderella movies from Disney to non-Disney. Charming (2018)'s Trophy Boy by Avril Lavigne, Ashely Tisdale and G.E.M. is where the title of this fic comes from. It's a bad movie but this song is legendary and pop perfection. A K-pop star, a Disney star, and a rock star all in one song is crazy.

- This fic has multiple POV's for Charming focused parts 👑 emojis are used on the other hook if it's James it's this emoji 🪝.

- Finally, this isn't a GayashellJATP fic without a playlist of songs I have on that help immerse you in the universe. Spotify playlist here!!!

Now that we are done with some housekeeping. Enjoy the fic & Remember to give feedback!!! It is always appreciated.

Notes (Tumblr):

I'm trying to do better on posting on here and being on time. With being a cross platform author. I still don't know how Tumblr works pls help me. Once again I suggest you read on AO3 my formatting is way better on that.

Chapter 1: Before The Ball

👑

Charming was so screwed.

He'd been excused from class by royal summons, which only meant one of two things: either bad news or... well, worse news. Lionel, the family’s loyal servant and his assigned guardian at the academy, was jittery, practically fidgeting as he escorted the skateboarding teen to the castle.

Lionel’s nervousness only heightened Charming's suspicion—did he tattle on him sneaking out of the academy for a late-night date? Again? Or worse—had he forgotten some royal obligation that would now come back to bite him?

Despite the comfortable life he'd been born into, Charming had a talent for getting into situations that made it... uncomfortable. Usually of his own making.

The moment they arrived at the vast, gilded throne room, the knot in his stomach twisted tighter. His mother stood. Not good. Queen Constantina only stood when something serious—truly serious—was about to be discussed. Lionel cleared his throat and began the ceremonial introduction.

“Your Royal Highness, Prince Charming—”

The Queen interrupted with a sharp glance. “Prince Christopher Rupert Windermere Vladimir—”

“Mom,” Charming sighed, cutting Lionel off. “He doesn’t have to say it every time.” The poor man practically bowed in relief when Charming gestured for him to be seated. The full name was ridiculously wordy, one of the many reasons why "Prince Charming" stuck much more easily.

“Son, you didn’t need to dismiss him,” King Maximilian spoke up from beside the queen, kissing his wife’s hand. Charming had to resist the urge to roll his eyes.

His parents were constantly doing that—displaying affection as if they were still teenagers in love. Any love hater would have gagged, but Charming simply tried to suppress a smirk. Even he couldn't deny they were a good match, for better or worse.

“Mom. Dad. What is it this time?” Charming asked, his voice strained but trying not to sound too impatient.

“Watch your tone, Junior,” his father said, though not harshly.

Charming forced a deep breath. “Fine. What’s the big news?” he said, layering on enthusiasm that was just short of sarcasm.

The Queen exchanged a meaningful glance with her husband before turning to her son, her posture regal and dramatic all at once. "Your eighteenth birthday in two days."

“I thought—” his father began, but a sharp elbow from his wife stopped him. “We thought it would be appropriate to throw a birthday ball.”

Charming's heart sank. "A ball?" His voice came out strained. "Father, is that really necessary?"

Queen Constantina's eyes glistened with an air of theatrics as she responded, “You haven’t shown any of your potential picks for marriage. You are two years overdue for at least a partner!” Her voice hitched as though it were a tragedy in itself.

Charming had tried, of course. He'd gone on more first dates than he cared to count, but none had led to anything serious. His royal reputation for being “charming” only went so far, especially when he wasn’t charmed by anyone.

“I’m working on it,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “But Mom, I don’t think a ball for my birthday is necessary.”

“Necessary?” His mother’s voice shot up an octave, her hand flying dramatically to her chest as if she were about to swoon. “Is it necessary that I should die knowing my only son will be a lonely king?!”

Charming’s eyes widened. “Mom, please. You’re not going to—"

“I might!” she countered, her voice trembling as if the mere thought of his supposed future loneliness was too much to bear. “The idea of you being all alone without a wife or family—oh! How tragic it would be!”

Charming rubbed the back of his neck, suppressing a groan. He loved his mom, truly, but sometimes her dramatics were... a lot. “Okay, fine. I get it. But… I have someone. Already. A partner.”

The words were out of his mouth before he had a chance to think them through. His heart nearly stopped as both his parents' faces lit up.

“You do?!” his father exclaimed, clapping his hands together in glee.

The Queen looked like she was about to burst into tears of joy. “Oh, my darling boy! You’ve found someone! You’ve—”

Charming quickly nodded, feeling his stomach churn with regret. “Yep. Found someone. Really great.”

His father beamed. “That’s fantastic news, son! We were beginning to wonder if you'd ever—"

“But the ball,” Queen Constantina interjected with a flourish of her hand. “The ball must still happen! After all, it’s been paid for, and all the preparations have already been made.”

Charming’s shoulders slumped. “Of course it has…”

His mother took his hands, her eyes sparkling. “Oh, darling, I can’t wait to meet this special someone of yours. Bring her to the ball!”

"Yeah. Absolutely," Charming forced a grin, though inside, his mind raced. He was so, so screwed. Not only was the ball happening no matter what, but now he had to show up with a date—someone bad enough to stop his parents from meddling in his love life ever again.

Where on Earth was he going to find that?

👑

Charming zoomed through the academy gates on his skateboard, the wind whipping through his hair as his thoughts churned. Why had he lied? It gnawed at him, the weight of a falsehood pressing on his conscience. Lies weren’t really his thing. Now, he’d have to turn that lie into reality, or it would eat him alive.

As he skated through the courtyard, his gaze caught Fay, a fairy in training and his hexalogy class partner, sitting cross-legged on the grass, her nose buried in a spellbook. She was mumbling under her breath, waving her wand with exaggerated movements as sparks of magic fizzled in the air.

“Hey, Fay,” he called, slowing down as he rolled over.

Fay glanced up, her wide eyes narrowing with playful frustration. “Charming, where were you?” she asked, tapping her wand against her open book. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to hex yourself and then unhex yourself without your partner? I nearly turned myself into a frog!”

“Royal duties,” Charming shrugged, offering an apologetic smile.

Fay’s expression softened immediately. She knew all too well the burden his title carried. “What did the queen say this time?” she asked, her tone light but sympathetic.

Charming rubbed the back of his neck. “We’re throwing another ball.”

Fay’s face lit up. “A ball? Isn’t that fantastic—” she paused, noticing the scowl creeping over Charming's face, “—ally… impossible to enjoy?” She attempted to course-correct, her enthusiasm dimming as she realized how much the idea clearly weighed on him. Fay wasn’t the best at being negative, but she tried.

“But I’ll make it up to you. I’ll be there for the next class.”

“You better be,” Fay huffed, but her tone was forgiving.

“The whole kingdom’s invited. Maybe I’ll catch you at the ball?”

“Nah, I doubt it. I’ll be here practicing my spells,” she said with a shy smile, already inching back toward her book. Fay wasn’t one for social events—she always seemed to vanish from them, though Charming never asked why.

“Well, I’ll see you later,” Charming said, giving her a quick wave.

“Later, skater!” Fay called, attempting to sound cool, which earned a chuckle from Charming. She couldn’t help but laugh at herself as he rolled away.

But as Charming skated off, Fay accidentally mispronounced her next spell. Instead of reciting "double the bubbles," she muttered "double the wobbles" under her breath. Without realizing it, she had casted a spell on Charming’s skateboard, causing it to take on a life of its own.

Charming, an experienced skater, didn’t notice anything at first. But as he glided past the group of notorious students hanging out by the courtyard's edge, the board beneath his feet began to wobble violently, as though possessed.

His body lurched forward, trying to steady himself, but the board had other ideas. It veered, zigzagging uncontrollably, and before Charming could react, it shot straight toward a cluster of students.

In a blur of motion, Charming collided with none other than Captain James Hook—his pirate classmate, and perhaps the academy’s most infamous heartthrob after Charming himself. With a loud thud, both boys went crashing to the ground, Hook's shiny golden hook clattering against the stone courtyard as they tumbled in a tangle of limbs.

Charming groaned, disentangling himself. “I’m so sorry!” he blurted, scrambling to his feet. His skateboard had spun off and smacked into a nearby tree, finally bringing the spell to a halt.

Hook stood up slowly, glaring down at Charming with narrowed eyes. His gaze was sharp and menacing, but there was a flicker of something else—jealousy? Amusement? It was hard to tell.

“You really are a royal asshole, aren’t you?” Hook growled, dusting off his crimson blazer. His voice dripped with venom, but there was something undeniably captivating about the way he spoke. “Gunning for me, were you?”

“No! No, I swear. I didn’t mean to—I lost control of the board.”

Hook didn’t seem convinced. He stepped closer, his imposing presence casting a shadow over Charming. “You were heading straight toward me, mate,” Hook said, his tone dangerously low. His golden hook gleamed as he pointed it directly at Charming’s perfect face. “That doesn’t seem like much of an accident.”

Charming’s heart pounded as his eyes flicked from Hook’s face to the hook hovering too close for comfort. He held up his hands in surrender, his voice calm and soothing. “Whoa, easy,” he said, gently grabbing Hook’s wrist and pushing the hook away from his face. For a brief second, his fingers brushed against Hook’s skin.

For just a moment, Charming couldn’t help but notice Hook. The sharp features, the dark, windswept hair, the way his crimson blazer framed his broad shoulders. And those eyes—intense, narrowed in suspicion, but undeniably alluring.

Charming blinked, snapping out of it. He was in trouble, not admiring the guy who was about to gut him like a fish.

Hook, however, seemed to notice Charming’s lingering gaze. His eyes flashed with something almost wild, and a wicked smirk curled on his lips. “What’s the matter, Prince? Distracted?”

“Uh, no. Not at all. Just… don’t want to get impaled, that’s all.”

Hook raised an eyebrow, amused but not backing down. “Right.” He clicked his tongue, his hook gleaming in the sunlight as he let it fall to his side. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood today. Or else…” He let the threat hang in the air, his eyes still burning into Charming’s.

“Right, yeah. Lucky,” Charming muttered, his pulse still racing. He wasn’t sure if it was from the near-death experience or the fact that Hook was standing way too close. He hadn’t expected Hook to be so—well, so much. Why was he noticing that now?

Hook’s smirk lingered as he stepped back, finally giving Charming some space. “Try not to skate into any more of your classmates, mate. Especially not me or my crew got it?.” He turned, flipping his collar with an air of superiority, though there was a glint in his eye as he strode away.

Charming watched him leave, shaking his head. Hook was dangerous—and not just because of the hook. There was something else there. Something he really needed to avoid.

But as he glanced back at his skateboard lying against the tree, the thought struck him: maybe, just maybe, Hook was exactly the kind of problem he needed.

If he could bring Hook to the ball, that would surely get his parents off his back. Right?

How would he ever get Hook to agree to that? He was really, really screwed.

🪝

Hook was seething. What a clueless little prince, he thought, his jaw clenched as he stormed through the academy's halls. Charming had to be the most oblivious royal he'd ever met. For someone so poised and charming, the prince had no idea how to navigate the real world.

Not that Hook expected much more from royals—they were all so privileged, so sheltered, so painfully clueless. That’s what made them easy marks. Their money, their fine clothes, their trinkets—it was all just there for the taking, practically begging to be lifted.

But this? This was different. Hook’s pride was bruised more than anything. Charming had made him collide with the earth, of all things, and Hook wasn’t going to forgive the little prince for sullying his pristine, mint-condition vintage blazer. He cast a quick glance at the fabric—no visible damage, but that didn’t matter. The fact that it had touched the ground at all was an unforgivable offense.

And worse, Hook knew his crew would never let him live this down if they found out. His reputation couldn’t take a hit like that, not when he had spent so much time cultivating it. He had to get his revenge. Teach the prince a lesson.

So, during storybook history class, Hook slipped out unnoticed. He snuck across the academy grounds to the royal dormitory— Full of one bed and customized rooms, unlike less privileged students. They weren’t allowed to deface their rooms and they had a roommate system. But Hook wasn’t complaining his roommate was pretty great.

But he wasn’t here to brood. No, he was here to act.

Charming’s dorm was up ahead, and Hook was relieved to see no sign of that bothersome butler Lionel. Of course, the little prince needs a servant to wait on him hand and foot, Hook thought, rolling his eyes. He always found it odd—off-putting, even—that Charming couldn’t go anywhere without a personal attendant. How soft and pampered could you get?

Hook approached Charming’s door, a sly grin spreading across his face. With a quick glance down the hallway, he slipped his golden hook into the lock, working it with practiced ease. Today, he was wearing his favorite hook—the golden one that added a touch of class to his ensemble. He’d have to be careful not to scratch it. The lock gave way with a soft click, and Hook pushed the door open, slipping inside.

The room smelled of expensive cologne, and everything was arranged perfectly. Typical royal. Hook sneered. He moved to the wardrobe, his eyes scanning the rows of pristine clothes.

Charming had quite the collection—mostly royal-styled barongs and beige outfits, which made Hook wrinkle his nose. Beige? Ugh, he thought with disdain. Not his color at all. Where was the flair, the vibrancy? Not a single dark or deep color in sight. Charming had such a boring taste in clothes for someone so well-dressed.

Still, a theft was a theft. Hook rifled through the clothes, trying to find something worth taking. Surely the prince won’t miss a few pieces, he thought, tossing aside a particularly dull-looking beige tunic.

What Hook didn’t realize was how much time he’d spent browsing

But time had gotten away from him, and Hook hadn’t realized how long he’d been sifting through the prince’s belongings until he heard the unmistakable sound of the door opening behind him.

“Looking for something?” came a voice that was far too calm for Hook’s liking.

Hook froze, hand halfway through a drawer of silk cravats. Slowly, he turned around, his heart sinking as he locked eyes with Prince Charming standing in the doorway with a smirk, arms crossed over his chest. He hadn’t expected to get caught—he never got caught.

Hook blinked, trying to regain his composure. “Ah skater boy,” he began, straightening up and smoothing his jacket. “This… is not what it looks like.”

Charming raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Really? Because it looks like you’re in my room rifling through my wardrobe.”

Hook swallowed, his mind racing for an excuse. He’d been in tight spots before, but this? This was a mess. “I was, uh… inspecting your clothing choices. Offering a little… constructive criticism, you might say,” Hook replied, flashing a crooked grin, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He wasn’t used to feeling this off-kilter. “No offense, mate, but 50 shades of tan and beige? Really?”

Charming’s expression remained neutral, though there was a glint of something unreadable in his eyes. “And you thought breaking into my room was the best way to offer fashion advice?”

Before Hook could answer, Lionel appeared in the doorway, eyes wide as they flickered between the pirate and the prince. “Am I interrupting, sir? I didn’t expect a guest,” Lionel said, his voice a touch too polite, suspicion creeping in.

Charming, without losing his cool, glanced slightly over his shoulder at Lionel but didn’t shift his focus from Hook. “It’s fine, Lionel. Could you give us a moment?” His tone was dismissive but not unkind, the sort of royal command that left no room for argument.

"Of course, Your Highness," Lionel replied, a touch too formal as he bowed and quickly excused himself, but not without one last curious glance, probably wondering if he had just witnessed the beginnings of some lovers' quarrel. The door closed softly behind him.

The moment Lionel left, Hook let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He eyed Charming warily, wondering how much trouble he was in. He hated the feeling of being cornered, especially by a royal.

“So…” Hook began, his voice dripping with false confidence. “No need to make this a big deal, yeah? You’re not going to go crying to Merlin, are you?”

Charming’s lips curled into a small smile. “I’m not planning on it, no.”

Sweet relief washed over Hook, but it was short-lived as Charming took a step closer, his tone turning just a shade more serious. “But I can’t just let this slide either, can I?”

Hook swallowed, his bravado faltering for a moment. “I only did this after our little incident,” he blurted out, trying to regain control of the conversation. He gestured vaguely between them, referencing their earlier collision.

Charming tilted his head slightly, as if considering Hook’s words. “And you thought breaking into my room and raiding my wardrobe was the right way to even the score?”

Hook’s mind scrambled for a sweet escape. “Look you don’t need to turn me in,” he said, practically begging now.

Charming considered this for a moment, his gaze flicking over Hook’s disheveled form and the mess of clothes scattered around his room. Then, almost as if a thought occurred to him, his smile returned—this time, sharper. “Actually, I think I might have an idea. Meet me by the castleteria at dinner time.”

“A dinner? You’re not going to tell anyone about this?”

“No, not yet,” Charming replied, his voice smooth but tinged with mischief. “But if you don’t show up, then maybe we’ll reconsider the whole punishment thing.”

Hook’s stomach twisted. He hated feeling like he was at someone’s mercy, especially Charming’s. But something in the prince’s eyes told him this wasn’t just about revenge—it was about leverage. Hook didn’t know what Charming had in mind, but whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.

Still, he nodded, trying to regain his bravado. “Alright, Prince. Dinner date it is.”

Charming smirked, stepping aside to let Hook pass.

Hook left the room, heart still pounding, cursing himself under his breath. He’d been caught, and now, somehow, he was in too deep.

🪝

“Hook, what bullshit did you get into?” Uliana’s voice cut through the room like a whip, her tone sharp with irritation as she lounged on Morgie’s bed, her tentacles subtly shifting.

The five of them were crammed into Hook and Morgie’s shared dorm room, a small space that felt even smaller with Uliana’s dramatic presence filling the air. Hook, on the other hand, was sprawled lazily across his bed, legs crossed like he had not a care in the world, but deep down, his stomach churned with unease.

Hook glanced at Uliana, who was tapping her nails against her belt buckle.. “Relax, Uliana. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“Is it a date?” Morgie piped up, his eyes wide with genuine curiosity as he fiddled with a piece of parchment,

Hook scoffed. “Really, wizard-oo? That’s your question?” The brunnete pirate shot back, but he didn’t quite meet Morgie’s gaze, a flicker of discomfort crossing his face. “It’s not a date, you idiot.”

“You didn’t deny it, Hook, so that means you’re going on a date with that royal eyesore,” Maleficent added with a sly smirk, reclining against the wall. She twirled a strand of dark hair between her fingers.

Hook sat up, trying to regain his composure, his golden hook glinting as he gestured wildly. “He’s got a little rebel streak in him, sure, but a date? With me?” Hook forced a laugh, but it came out a little too harsh. “He’s too soft for that.”

Hades, who had been lounging in the corner, arms folded and his fiery blue hair flickering lazily, chimed in with a smirk of his own. “I dunno, mate. You see those blue streaks he’s rocking these days? Kid’s got a little fire in him. You pick them well, James.”

What did the prince have in mind for him? Why had Charming asked him to meet at dinner? He was good at handling himself, but this was different. Royals had a way of twisting things to their advantage, and he wasn’t sure he’d come out on top this time.

Uliana’s tentacles flexed, her eyes narrowing. “This better not blow back on us, Hook. You get tangled up with that prince, and we’re all screwed. I’ve got enough on my plate without cleaning up your messes.”

Morgie, ever the optimist, gave Hook a hopeful smile. “Maybe it won’t be so bad? You two could, you know... find common ground?” He shrugged, completely oblivious to the heavy glares that Uliana shot his way.

Hook grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck. “Trust me, I don’t belive in common ground I’m a pirate after all. The seas are what matter,” he muttered, but even as he said it, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that Charming wasn’t as simple as he’d like to believe. Whatever the prince had planned, Hook had no choice but to play along—for now.

👑

Lionel watched as Charming’s fencing movements faltered, his usual grace replaced by distracted, half-hearted parries. The clanging of their swords echoed through the gymnasium, but the prince’s mind was clearly somewhere else.

“Sir—I mean, Christopher, what’s the worry face for?” Lionel asked, lowering his sword slightly, his tone a mix of concern with playful scolding. “Your mother would say frowning is terrible for the face.”

Charming winced and laughed, “Ouch. Thanks for that reminder, Lionel.”

Lionel tilted his head, eyeing the prince with the same scrutiny one might give a misbehaving child. “Having love problems, are we?”

Charming hesitated mid-lunge. “Sorta… kinda... undetermined.” He shrugged, trying to mask the uncertainty in his voice with nonchalance.

“I’ll try to make sense of that, sir,”

Charming straightened up, tossing his sword onto the nearby rack. “I do have a problem,”

“And what may that be, Your Highness?”

“I lied to my parents,” Charming confessed, running a hand through his streaked hair. “I told them I had someone to bring them for the ball, but... I have no one.”

Lionel gasped theatrically, hand flying to his chest in mock horror. “Oh dear! The end of the world!”

Charming grinned, though the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t panic. I’ve got it under control. I think…”

“Is that why there was a handsome pirate rummaging through your wardrobe this morning?” he asked with a pointed look. “Is he part of your grand plan?”

Charming blinked, caught off guard. “He’s not that handsome,” he blurted out, the words leaving his mouth before he could stop them. Lionel’s amused smirk only deepened. Charming’s cheeks flushed. “I mean—he’s alright,” he backpedaled quickly, though Lionel’s knowing look said it all.

Lionel chuckled softly, tapping the flat of his sword against the ground. “What would your parents think of him, then? A pirate at the royal ball?”

“They did say every suitor in the kingdom that doesn��t exclude male or pirates. But they’d be terrified,”

“And here I thought you were planning to bring a princess,” Lionel mused, shaking his head with fond exasperation.

“Well, ‘pirate’ does start with a P,” Charming quipped, unable to suppress his grin. “Might be close enough. Don’t ask for permission ask for forgiveness.”

“The ball’s happening no matter what, Christopher. Your parents are set on it,” Lionel reminded him, though there was no judgment in his voice. He was used to the prince’s antics by now.

Charming nodded, tossing his fencing jacket aside. “Yeah, well, might as well make it a little more exciting.”

“If I’m going down, I’m going down singing.” The prince sang.

Lionel chuckled, stepping forward to ruffle the prince’s hair. “You’re always causing trouble. But… you're going to be fine, you always are.”

Charming laughed, a bit of the tension easing from his shoulders. “Thanks, Lionel.”

"Just... try not to start a royal scandal this time,"

"Can't make any promises," Charming shot back with a grin.

👑

The night had settled over Merlin Academy, and the castleteria was buzzing. On the lower level, students from various backgrounds sat together, some attempting to eat in peace while others whispered and laughed in tight-knit groups.

The second level, however, was a different story entirely—a separate, glass-enclosed space designed for royal students, a consequence of the infamous "Ariel incident" from freshman year. Uliana, the sea witch, had stirred up a food fight with the sophomore Little Mermaid herself, (A girl her older sister bullied aswell)

which ended with food flying and a lot of egos bruised. Now, extra security stood guard, and Charming hated it.

It drained his social battery to be so isolated. He used to enjoy mingling, making polite conversation with his peers, but now he found himself perched in this sterile room, looking down at the rest of the academy through the glass window like he was in some kind of fishbowl.

It didn’t help that Lionel, who usually provided some form of company, was off handling royal duties whenever it was mealtime. So Charming sat alone, poking at his food, waiting.

Well, not exactly alone. He was expecting someone. Or rather, a pirate . The word "victim" had crossed his mind, but that sounded too cruel, and blackmailee was just unpleasant. So, pirate it was.

Charming’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a scuffle outside the door. Voices—loud, irritated voices—drifted in, and he didn’t need to guess who it was.

“Let go of me! Easy on the coat!” came the familiar accent, sharp and indignant.

The guards were clearly manhandling Hook. Charming sighed, standing up from his seat and making his way to the door. He opened it just in time to see one of the guards tugging on Hook’s crimson coat, and Hook, true to form, looking royally pissed off.

“Stop it!” Charming barked, a little more forcefully than usual. “Let him go. He's with me.”

The two guards immediately released Hook, straightening up as they realized their mistake. One of them, the taller one with a stern face, glanced at Charming apologetically. “Apologies, Your Highness. We didn’t know he was—”

“Yeah, clearly,” Hook cut in, brushing off his coat like he’d just been dragged through the mud. “A real fine welcome, I must say.”

The other guard, younger and more nervous, muttered, “We thought he might’ve been here to, uh… cause trouble, Your Highness.”

Charming sighed, rubbing his temples. “He’s not here to cause trouble. I invited him.” He shot a look at Hook. “Sorry about the mix-up.”

Hook crossed his arms, glaring at the guards. “Way to go, Prince. You invite me, then forget to tell your people I’m coming. Real nice lad, aren’t you?”

Charming gave him a sheepish look, stepping forward and placing a hand on Hook’s shoulder—more of a placating gesture than anything. “I said I was sorry.”

Hook immediately shrugged off his hand, the familiar click of his hook against Charming's wrist. “Easy on the coat. You and your lot have already helped it deteriorate faster than it should.”

“Shall we?” he said, gesturing toward the table.

Hook huffed in response but said nothing, striding past the prince and into the dining area. His eyes scanned the lavish room, taking in the gleaming chandeliers, the velvet-lined chairs, and the royal setup. For a moment, Charming saw a flicker of appreciation cross his face—just for a second—before Hook’s usual facade of nonchalance slipped back into place.

“Nice place you’ve got here,” Hook said, though the casual tone didn’t quite match the look in his eyes. “Bit excessive for a meal, don’t you think?”

Charming smirked, crossing his arms as he followed Hook inside. He could see through the pirate’s act. “If it hadn’t been for that food fight with Ariel and your friend during freshman year, none of this would’ve happened.”

“Yeah, well, she was pretty awesome for that.”

Charming rolled his eyes, though a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Right. Let’s just sit and eat before you start a revolution in here too.”

They settled into their seats, a tense silence hanging between them. Charming could feel the weight of Hook’s gaze, sharp and calculating. This wasn’t some casual dinner. Both of them knew it, even if neither wanted to admit it.

The dinner had been silent for too long. Hook, never one to let tension sit without poking at it, decided to break it “So, what are your intentions, Your Highness? You’re a popular bloke around here. Getting lonely?”

Charming’s fork paused mid-air before he set it down, carefully. “I have friends.” His mind flickered to Aladdin and Jasmine, who often joined him for meals, bringing stories of their magic carpets adventures.

Then there were Ella and Bridget, after the two got together they always found time to drop by with baked treats—often enchanted with strange, unpredictable side effects, like turning his hair fully blue or making him float for a few minutes.

Zelly, ever the life of the party, would bring her chameleon Pascal, and they’d all end up doing karaoke. After all, the royal dining area inexplicably had a karaoke machine tucked in the corner.

“So it’s not loneliness or complete boredom, why have me here?” Hook pressed.

Charming hesitated, trying to maintain a mysterious air. He knew Hook was too clever to show his cards too early. “I have something to ask,” was all he said, keeping his tone casual.

Hook leaned back, a smirk playing on his lips as he lounged in the velvet chair, clearly amused by the prince’s attempt at suspense. “What’s this all about, then? A royal invitation for little old me? You're not planning on throwing me in the dungeons after dessert, are you?”

Charming chuckled, though there was a hint of nervousness behind it. “No dungeons. Just… an arrangement.” He felt Hook’s guard go up instantly, the pirate’s smirk hardening into something more defensive.

“Arrangement?” Hook’s brow arched in mock curiosity, though there was no mistaking the sharpness in his tone. “What sort of arrangement would a prince want from moi ?”

“I need you to be my date,” Charming said, the words slipping out before he could fully gather his nerve. He paused, seeing Hook’s expression shift, and hurried to clarify, “Not in the traditional sense.”

Hook’s face didn’t change much. He leaned in slightly, his gaze sharp, like he was toying with a fish on a hook. “You went to so much trouble to impress me,” Hook said with snobbish amusement, “I’m flattered, but you’re not my type.”

Charming felt his face flush but pushed on. “My parents are throwing me this stupid ball, and I hate it. It’s all about me, and I just—” He suddenly found himself unraveling, words tumbling out in a rush. “I blurted out that I had a date, thinking it would stop them from pressuring me, but now it’s just worse, and I don’t know how to—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold your horses, Prince,” Hook interrupted with a bemused smirk, holding up his hand. “That’s a lot of whining for me.”

Charming blinked, startled by Hook’s bluntness. Somehow, those few words snapped him out of his spiraling rant. He let out an embarrassed laugh, the tension easing from his shoulders. For a second, he found himself thinking Hook looked oddly…kinda hot.

The pirate, for all his snark, had an air of control about him that made Charming’s stomach twist in a way he didn’t quite understand.

But Hook was getting up, clearly looking like he was about to leave. He couldn’t let him just walk out, not after coming this far. Desperation flickered in his chest, and he scrambled for a last-ditch effort.

“Wait!” Charming stood quickly, his hand brushing against Hook’s arm as he reached out. “I haven’t told you the benefits yet.”

Hook paused, turning halfway with a knowing gleam in his eyes. “Alright. I’m listening.”

Charming exhaled, thinking quickly. “You’ll get lots of opportunities being seen with me. The ball is in two days. You won’t have to pretend for long. You’ll get to live lavishly, and you don’t have to worry about me telling anyone about your… thieving incident.”

Hook’s eyes flickered, but instead of biting, he turned fully away, stepping toward the door. Charming felt his heart sink. He'd blown it. This was going to be harder than he thought—time for Plan B, whatever that was.

Then, Hook stopped, glancing over his shoulder with a smirk that made Charming’s pulse quicken. “I’ll do it.”

“What?”

“I said I’ll do it,” Hook repeated, turning fully now, his expression unreadable. “I’ll be your boyfriend. For rent, of course.”

Charming bristled slightly. “That doesn’t sound very nice.”

“Well, that’s the reality, babe,” Hook teased, the last word slipping off his tongue like a taunt. The prince stiffened at the word. He didn’t like the way it sounded coming from Hook’s mouth. Or maybe he liked it too much, and that was the problem.

“Fine, we’ll talk tomorrow, lay down the ground rules. We can discuss everything over breakfast.”

“Blah, blah, so boring. You don’t need so many pleasantries to fake-date me, you know. We’re not writing a treaty.”

Charming stepped closer, his face inching into Hook’s space. “I’ll pick you up in the morning. We’ll discuss the plan then.”

Hook gave him a mocking grin, eyes flicking down between them before meeting Charming’s gaze again. “You just love a good scheme and a meal, don’t you? That’s pathetic—and kinda cute, actually.”

Something inside Charming snapped at that last line. “Who are you calling pathetic?” he growled, stepping even closer until they were face to face.

Hook’s eyes danced with amusement, but there was something else beneath the surface, something unreadable. For a brief moment, they stood there in awkward silence, close enough to feel each other’s breaths, their hands grazing.

The bell rang suddenly, cutting through the moment and pulling them back to reality. Charming took a step back, clearing his throat. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” He asked, his princely demeanor slipping back into place, though his voice was quieter than before.

Hook smirked, already slipping toward the door. “You know where to find me, Your Highness .”

Charming was still screwed how was he going to pull this sham? But he did make some progress he just hoped the pirate didn’t cause too much trouble.

👑

Notes:

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