#i had no clue what west side story was really about until now | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

raayllum · 4 months

Text

Knowledge as a Burden / Subjective & Objective Truth :: A S5 Meta

Now, the concept of Knowledge being a burden is nothing new. It's quite literally baked into cultural consciousness (at least in the West; I don't know enough to speak for East cultural mythos) through both the story of Adam and Eve within the three Abrahamic religions, and its close sister story of Pandora's pithos (more commonly known as a box). We also see it in stories such as Bluebeard, in which a new wife is forbidden to inspect her husband's private chambers and deeply regrets her choice to do so, as well as phrases such as "the grass is always greener on the other side," "ignorance is a bliss," and "what you don't know can't hurt you" (all of which are debatable as phrases, of course).

However, it is one of the rare themes in TDP, I think, that wasn't really present in arc 1 and is introduced as an arc 2 (as compared to most that were already in arc 1, and have just been strengthened/matured) particularly as of S5, hence why I wanted to talk about it.

So let's talk about it (specifically Kpp'Ar, Akiyu, Viren, Rayla, Callum Ezran, Soren, and the Jailer, not at all in that order).

Thematic Origins

Like most things in terms of season four thematically, "Knowledge as a Burden" actually starts in Through The Moon, in a lot of ways. There's the other side of it as well - not knowing what happened to her family or Viren is causing Rayla to be increasingly irate and worried - but TTM closes out on Rayla at least being able to face the fact her family is gone. If that was the only big piece of information she'd learned by going through the portal, she probably wouldn't have left.

R: Right before you found me, he opened his eyes, and I knew... He may be caught between life and death somehow, but Viren is on this side of things. He's alive, Callum! C: I don't know, Rayla. I didn't understand half of what I saw in there. [...] I let you jump into the Nexus alone and I knew right away I'd made the biggest mistake of my life. I could have lost you.

However, she Knew - in her bones - that Viren was alive, and so she had to go after him. Even if it wasn't what she wanted (to leave or to hurt Callum) the knowledge itself felt like it was pressing down on her, that this was what she had to do. That she had no other choice.

That being said, TTM is at its core supplementary material. While it initiates the theme in this way (as does Callum's devotion), it may be worth turning to how S4 originates the theme and pursuit of Knowledge, which is not through Rayla directly, but is through Callum, instead.

(If you're interested in Amaya and Callum's parallels in 4x01 concerning partners and knowledge, you'll want to check out this meta here.)

In the beginning of S4, Callum is where Rayla used to be, left in limbo about the well-being and what's happened to his loved ones. And there is, of course, his frustration and quest to properly decipher the mirror, and anger at Soren, when he believes the man is keeping something from him.

This anchoring in Callum's plot line and curiosity indeed informs the true thematic basis of knowledge in Arc 2 in comparison in Arc 1. In the first three seasons, we always knew where we were going — to the Dragon Queen to notify her of Zym's safety/existence, with Viren's initial Aaravos plotline in S2 being a divergence from this level of certainty — but in arc 2, we're purposefully floundering a bit more. Because in a lot of ways

Arc 2 is About the Pursuit of Knowledge

This isn't particularly a surprise, given the seasons have the official title of "The Mystery of Aaravos," and mysteries involve clues that are in the inherent pursuit of trying to gain answers (i.e. knowledge), but it does mark a structural departure from Arc 1, as mentioned earlier, and informs S4-S5 (and most likely S6) more than we might've initially realized.

A perfect example is that, from 4x05 onwards, the main characters (including Claudia and co. until the of 4x09) up until approximately the end of 5x05 (a full 10 episodes) are simply travelling around trying to find the pieces to Aaravos' prison. To decipher its location, its material, and its very nature. But put a pin in it for later, cause I want to draw attention to another quest for knowledge that runs concurrently in season 5 in particular, AKA:

Knowledge as Power

I've talked before about Finnegrin's parallels to Aaravos, but thus far haven't touched too much on Callum's parallels to Finnegrin, even though they're uh

There, for sure. And of course, both Finnegrin and Callum (and Rayla, with her "We're going to need to know one thing: how do we kill a Startouch elf" + Finnegrin's "I just want one thing") have their own similar reasonings, ultimately, for wanting to kill their chosen targets: to maintain their own control and freedom.

(This isn't to say this is Callum's exclusive motivation regarding Aaravos — it isn't — but I do think we're meant to see the blatant parallels as well.)

Control, freedom, and power are all undeniably, understandably linked, then. But knowledge is the undercurrent (pun intended) of all of it. Finnegrin's awareness of his confines is what's driving him mad; Callum knowing that Aaravos can possess him and what the mirror entailed, things he lived in ignorant bliss of for 2+ years, are what worries him in S4. Knowledge and power are inextricably linked, as Viren's character makes particular apparent, which in the case of Kpp'Ar demonstrates a strong Knowledge of his student (with caveats) as well as Aaravos' assessment of Viren. If you have knowledge, you have power — and if you have power, you have agency and/or worth.

Which I think is the subtextual cue to Viren only having clarity ("This is nonsense!") once he casts down his crown (power) in the dream sequences, as well as his end of season "I finally see the truth" epiphany that also comes with relinquishing power and agency over his own life, while ironically exerting it more than ever. But more on Viren and all that later, so pin in it for now.

We also see this element of Knowledge as power come into play with other characters, most notably Claudia in her utilization of dark magic and the creativity she expresses with it, Callum's knowledge of spells, and even Ezran in S5:

However, knowledge in the 'traditional' sense in show isn't solely about magic or spells or prisons, or even overtly negative. There are far more positive sides as well (even if, like most things, it's a double edged sword). So let's talk about

Knowledge as Self Actualization

Have talked about self actualization in regards to Callum and Rayla's individual development in Arc 1 a few times in overlapping ways, so not going to repeat too much here (each of them examining themselves but also one another's worldview - of the cycle and magic/the war - in order to reach the people they were meant to be in many ways, etc), although I am going to touch on them later as per S4 and S5 again.

For a fresher example, I want to talk about Soren.

Dictionaries define self actualization as the process of becoming your fullest self — often times conflated with the best version of yourself — where you become more You than you ever were before. This is especially true for both Soren and Rayla in arc 1, where although they have dips and bends, they are both ultimately selfless protectors secure in the duties they've finally been able to fully choose (and to make up, to themselves, for prior failures). For Callum and Ezran, their self actualization is more transformative into someone entirely new — more confident, more assertive, more compassionate and with the power to express it — than restorative, but again: put a pin in Callum's arc for a bit, cause we're getting to it.

For now, let's talk about self actualization through recognition of yourself through the other (aka in this case, how Callum and Rayla view themselves through the other's eyes in S4 and S5) as well as love being both a subjective and objective truth (with some moon arcanum stuff for spice).

So objective truth is things that are undeniably real — magic exists in Xadia, Aaravos has been imprisoned. Subjective truth is whether Aaravos was imprisoned for a good reason, or that humans can't access primal magic; these can change depending on viewpoint or access to new/old information. For example, while Aaravos likely isn't lying about what he believes will happen ("The sun will rise and you will not") that doesn't make it objective reality; just because someone is telling their truth and perception of events does not make it unilaterally The truth.

But for a more interpersonal view...

In season four, just like Callum doesn't know if Rayla is alive, he doesn't know how to feel about her coming back. Rayla hopes that they can reconcile, but she also knows that her leaving hurt him — even if Callum won't admit it. She had her reasons for leaving and he has his reasons for being hurt, and although somewhat opposed, they can both exist. This follows what Lujanne and Ezran cite, i.e.:

Lujanne: Sometimes real trust is accepting even the dark parts we will never know. [..] Was it wrong? Or was it just differently true?

with notions of subjective truth, and Ezran's assertion of his truth that

But I think I left something out. I ignored something that was true. I denied something that is undeniable. We are angry! I am angry. I have been hurt. [...] But… It’s not that easy or simple. Because people are still hurting and they are still angry. We can’t ignore that, or pretend it will go away. Somehow, we have to hold it all in our hearts at the same time. We have to acknowledge the weight of the pain and loss, but open up our eyes and allow ourselves to hope and maybe forgive and love again.

Whether one has hope or not that the world can be different often times indicates whether they will be breaking the cycle or perpetuating it. We see these conflicting realities once again with Soren and his inability to get through to Claudia ("You're on the wrong side. I know because... I was too")

versus being able to successfully get through to Elmer:

When you can empathize and relate to others — which is a cornerstone of Amaya's growth as well across season three through to season five — you can lend understanding and self-actualization not only to yourself, but also to them: "You know who you sound like?" "Who?" "Me" much in the same way Soren is able to offer it to Elmer, and Elmer reasserts his own identity — his understanding and knowledge of himself, down to his name — accordingly in addition to becoming an ally.

Knowledge is also the foundation of consistency; how well we know someone is predicated on how well we can predict their behaviour and subsequently rely on them, not only in action but also in reaction and responses. There's few things more disconcerting than someone reacting poorly to something you thought they would take rather well. Moreover, if knowledge of ourselves can lead to self-actualization, then our knowledge of each other can also lead to mutual self-actualization. We see this first hand in Rayla and Callum's Arc 2 dynamic thus far, so let's talk about it:

Mutual Love as Self Actualization: Part 1 — Uncertainty to Certainty (S4)

As previously noted, Callum starts out S4 at both a loss with the mirror, and still coping with the uncertainty and stagnation of his loss of Rayla. When Ezran reaffirms that Callum still loves her, all Callum can helplessly rely that he doesn't "even know if she's alive." Things don't really improve once Rayla shows up, either, even if we see the persistent thread of not knowing vs knowing being knit throughout their arc with one another.

We see this knit through, lightly, in Janai's arc regarding her people and place as queen ("Elves and humans [moving too fast]? ... I don't know" "At least Karim would lead with some kind of certainty") as though uncertainty is nothing but doubt, rather than a journey involving doubt as well as the opportunity for growth just as much as any venture (as Callum and Rayla will soon find out).

After all, Callum soon finds a shred of comfort in said uncertainty, and offers it to Rayla accordingly in an attempt to comfort her:

Rayla: This is all my fault [that Soren is dead/missing]. I left him alone! I shouldn't have— Callum: Rayla. Don't. We can't know what happened for sure. I mean, this is the path to Rex Igneous, right? So maybe he couldn’t climb out of the pit, so he had to keep going. You know him. He’s brave. He’s gotta be down there looking for Rex.

And this is also built upon a foundation Ezran has set earlier with his friends. When he is trying to get Callum and Rayla to work together, he doesn't tell them to set everything aside, or even harkens back to their good old days. He asserts their identities and says, "Don't you remember who you are?" because to him — and evidently to Callum and Rayla, because it works — working together and helping each other has become a fundamental, core part of who they are as individuals. They are that interwoven with each other, and Rayla reflects that in 4x07 with, "Callum, you're the 'destiny is a book you write yourself' guy. No one can control you or make your choices for you" as well as what Callum offers up to her in 4x09 where we see the turning point in their prior uncertainty. Although they've both changed, they are fundamentally still the same people they were when they fell in love, and there is both comfort, sadness, and acceptance in that realization, where Callum says:

Which is the tipping point into season 5, and where they stay for the bulk of season five, so let's talk about that next stage.

Mutual Love as Self Actualization: Part 2 — Certainty and Discovery (S5)

Upon reconciling once Callum has said what we knew all along — "I'm so glad you come back" — Callum and Rayla return to the castle, and their searches for knowledge become arguably more explicitly stated by the text. Their first scene together in 5x01 establishes that Callum wants to know the Ocean arcanum ("I thought it would be about controlling the tides or fighting the currents" thereby exerting control, which he desperately wants over himself post-S4) as well as Aaravos, whereas Rayla is seeking answers about her family: "If I can figure out how he put you into the cursed coins, maybe I can find a way to get you out."

This is, of course, something we know she doesn't trust Callum with yet, not wanting to burden him with her problems especially before she's reached her own conclusion of what to do about it (to delay it for the good of the world) and we see that the certainty and forgiveness Callum found in 4x09 has more than carried over.

Opeli: Don't you want to know what she was up to? Why she did all this? Callum: If she didn't tell me, she has a good reason. I know this: the tides are true as the ocean is deep. [...] It means I trust her. Unconditionally. Let her go. Now.

This scene harkens back not only to the love poetry he quoted and then paraphrases ("To love is simply to know this") where loving and knowing someone is deemed synonyms, but also by his reassertion of Rayla's identity in the wake of her transgressions and her silence: "She's not the elf. She's Rayla" because Callum's love for (and trust in) her has always been rooted in the essence of who she is: "That's what makes her a hero. That's what makes her Rayla."

And we see Rayla's own knowledge of certainty challenged and reformed by Amaya in 5x04:

When I was growing up, my big sister Sarai was the smartest, strongest, bravest person I knew. When she died, I felt lost and weak without her. I hated feeling that way, so I learned to be strong alone. Stoic, strong, and lonely. [That does sound like me sometimes.] But the last two years have changed everything. Meeting Janai, falling in love, I am stronger than I ever was — because we are stronger together. And I realized that was the real truth of me and Sarai too. Love and trust grow a kind of strength that is much bigger than we each possess. To have that kind of strength, it is not enough to love someone. You have to trust them to share the burdens you carry.

And although very uncertain about opening up, Rayla still expresses certainty that she knows Callum could and can be there for her, if he wants to be — if he's ready to be.

Rayla: But I think — I know that I trust you to help me carry this. If you're okay with that?

This is, after all, with both Amaya's encouragement and Callum's reassurance that 1) "You can tell me when you're ready" and that 2) he does want to know from 5x01. Then, we see both their arcs in this way largely — or at least they would, in a perfect world — be resolved in many ways by their interaction later in 5x04:

But that's not where their season 5 arc ends, because 5x08 happens. To talk about that, though, we have to talk about a few other things, namely

Oedipus Rex

Bear with me, because I promise this relates. "Oedipus Rex" is a 5th century BCE Greek tragedy written by Sophocles, detailing the life of a man who's name is mostly (ironically) known for lending itself to Sigmund Freud's Oedipus complex theory. The play and myth itself, however, indicate very much the opposite. Prophesied to murder his father and marry his mother, both Oedipus and his parents are accordingly horrified by his apparent fate, and do everything they can to remove it as a possibility, including abandoning their baby to die on a mountainside, as well as Oedipus leaving the home of the family who saved and subsequently raised him, never realizing he was adopted.

He then goes on to discover the truth of the prophesy when a plague wracks his city that the seers say will not leave until the murderer of their king is found, and Oedipus unknowingly pushes until the point of revelation that it was himself, and that his wife for many years is actually his mother. Even when other characters, such as his mother turned wife, Jocasta, begin to suspect the truth and urge him to stop chasing down the mystery so they can have plausible deniability, Oedipus remains oblivious until the horrifying truth is staring him in the face. Jocasta hangs herself, and he gouges his eyes out and runs off into the woods to die.

The reason I bring this all up is because, in the Western literary canon at least, "Oedipus Rex" is considered the "ur-text," otherwise known as the text that all others are modelled after. Not necessarily in the incest or the tragedy, but the fact that most if not many Western stories (TDP included) are continually propelled towards the point of Revelation or epiphany, and that this revelation is inevitable, whether it is positive or negative.

While Viren and Harrow give an excellent display of a relationship that breaks down due to a lack of understanding and compassion, as well as self-doubt on both sides...

Harrow: Call it what it is. Dark magic [...] I've spent years going along with these creative solutions, and where has it gotten me? Viren: I don't understand. Harrow: I know you don't. Leave me. Viren: They will find you and they will kill you. Harrow: I know this. Viren: But know this: anyone of these men and women would gladly trade their lives to save yours.

Likewise, we see Viren through his dreams seek the form of acceptance ("I hope you know--" "I know") that Rayla has offered Callum, except from Harrow, as well as going further into what Viren has deeply wanted for most of his life and from Harrow in particular; to be listened to, to be valued. (How pure that is in practice is debatable given their dynamic outside of Viren's dreams, i.e. Harrow listening to you does not always mean agreeing with you, but I digress.)

Harrow: You are a brother. You're my family. Viren: I've always thought of you as my family, and you know, I would do anything for my family. However dangerous. However vile. Harrow: [Still hugging him] I know. Viren: It is everything to me, to know that I mean something to you, to know that I matter. It's all I ever wanted.

But what should be a scene of comfort and reassurance turns into a literal nightmare. Into entrapment. Into imprisonment.

Knowledge as a Burden / How Knowledge Can Imprison You

I've said before that Arc 2 is about the pursuit of knowledge, specifically because more than the mystery of Aaravos himself, the bulk of the main characters are trying to unravel the mystery of his prison. Season five, by virtue of offering more clues (the nature of the prison, its appearance, and its location) also reveals more of the layers in both the construction of the prison and the dispersion of the clues. Even the mighty Domina Profundis states, "I do not know where it is," but that "I do know what it is."

Previously, we've mostly talked about knowledge, especially within the text of the show, as a positive thing. It is the foundational rock of a strong relationship, it can lead to positive self actualization, and it helps the heroes keep Aaravos from being unleashed. When you do not have enough knowledge or perceived understanding of someone (Claudia assumes Soren could never understand her, and Viren and Harrow's relationship breakdown), your relationship accordingly deteriorates. When you share knowledge, and share experiences (Rayla to Callum about the coins, Soren to Elmer about abusive cycles), you can become stronger together.

But knowledge is not exclusively a good thing. It can also be harmful, or unwanted, or unwanted precisely because it's harmful. It can bind you to deals or bonds you don't really want, and once you know something, you cannot un-know it, whether about yourself or about others. And we see this most plainly in the story Archmage Akiyu shares about the prison.

Because Aaravos was a master manipulator, the Jailer knew all knowledge of the prison had to be protected... its location, its material, its very nature. She carefully divided information about the prison so that not even the Archdragons had the complete picture. Each knew only a piece. "The puzzle is the real prison," she told me with a proud smile. But I made a fatal mistake.

Akiyu didn't mean to look. She didn't mean to discover, to know. What should've been a noteworthy accomplishment of being trusted to keep the world safe, so it would be a better place for her and others to live in, nearly spelled her doom.

I begged her to let me live. I swore to keep the secret safe, but she said it was too important. "The archdragons will have to kill you," she told me, "to protect the puzzle, to secure the prison."

There's a few interesting things here. We can see, from the severity that Akiyu holds regarding her oath, that the Jailer was genuinely concerned about making sure the prison would hold Aaravos, in addition to the fact that Jailer would be condemning Akiyu to death without having to bloody her hands herself. But the intensity here does make sense; as she just said, "the prison is the real puzzle," and now that's been potentially compromised.

We even get a bit of bonus foreshadowing, as Callum turns to look at Rayla, indicating he hasn't forgotten what he asked her to do in 4x07, and that him gaining more knowledge about Aaravos (or the key?) may not necessarily be a Good thing.

Rayla: [About the cube] It's a toy. A piece from a children's game. I hope it was worth it to you, putting everyone's lives in danger (1x04).

If you have knowledge, you have the capacity to share knowledge, either for a common good with people you trust, or to potentially have it twisted out of you under duress, both of which could've posed a danger if Akiyu had trusted the wrong person...

or if someone (much the same way Ezran put it together) went after her to get information but with less favourable intentions...

And we see that Akiyu was likely aware of this as well:

So I proposed a pact. I made a solemn promise I would die before revealing the location of the prison to anyone. And she spared me.

She ends her history lesson by reaffirming a sentiment she already expressed earlier, citing, "I didn't want to kill you, but you left me no choice. I swore an oath, and I intend to keep it" and reaffirming it here with, "So you see, when you came looking for information about Aaravos, I had no choice. If I didn't deter you, I had to kill you." At best, Akiyu's acquisition of knowledge made her prepared to put blood on her hands (if it isn't there already from previous knowledge seekers) and provides her justification in doing so.

If she could just un-know something, her life and the information would've been much safer for everyone involved, and yet that wasn't really possible. Once you know something, you cannot un-know it. (What is done cannot be undone.) Although what happened was a genuine accident, and Akiyu wanted to live, she still understood the importance of what was transpiring and why the Jailer reluctantly wanted to remove her from the equation ("The archdragons will have to kill you" / "You have to kill me. I need you to promise") to be safe rather than sorry.

And then on the flipside we have Finnegrin, who is punished for 'genuine' crimes (we can assume based on his actions that his prior ones weren't much better, but we also don't totally know for sure), spared without begging for it, and is deeply resentful of the restrictions placed upon him.

So while to get out of her predicament, Akiyu is an Tidebound elf who holds onto knowledge, Finnegrin is a Tidebound elf who wants to get out of his predicament by gaining knowledge — by any means necessary. Because knowledge is power, knowledge is agency, and knowledge is imprisonment. Which means it's finally time to talk about:

Knowledge and the Ocean Arcanum

So if S4 is about beginning to navigate both in spite of and within uncertainty, S5 is about having the safety of that uncertainty stripped away, both in creating more of it, and in removing some of it. Namely, the Ocean arcanum:

Finnegrin: What did you think you could do, boy? I control everyone on this ship. Everyone.

Callum: [Internally] Do not ask how the ocean's blue... or why their time the tides do keep. To love is simply to know this. The tides are true as the Ocean is deep.

Now I've talked more about the specific symbolism embedded in the scene where Callum internally unlocks the Ocean arcanum — the closing of his hand mimicking what he must've done to crush the slug (as well as the importance of hands and consistent gestures throughout the episode), the sea and storm and darkness receding because the arcanum is, ultimately, enlightenment, etc.

And in some ways, Callum unlocking the Ocean arcanum should be outright enlightenment with all the positive connotations that comes with. It's him achieving the goal he wanted from his first scene this season ("I'm trying to get into a place where I can connect with the Ocean arcanum"), it has all the positive light and lack of storm associations, and it allows Callum to triumphantly break free from Finnegrin's blood ice grip, for lack of a better term.

Callum: But then, you already knew that, didn't you? Because it's the secret of the Ocean itself. The arcanum. Finnegrin: Impossible. Callum: You helped me figure it out. I thought it would be about controlling the tides, or fighting the currents. But it's the opposite. The Ocean arcanum is about accepting there are depths you can't see, parts of yourself you can't understand, and things you can't control. You know what I'm saying is true because you were born knowing it. No matter how much you try, you'll never control everything. And that terrifies you.

I'm afraid, Rayla. What if I'm on a path of darkness?

Callum does not frame him unlocking the Ocean arcanum, nor the arcana itself, as a victory. Not to say that either of those things are bad, but that they have layers, and complications, that largely were not present (at least at the time) with the Sky arcanum. While Callum learned in S4 the dark side of potential and how consequences can catch up to you, in many ways, S5 is about deepening that understanding to the fact that no matter how much power you have, you can still not control everything. There will always be moments you feel powerless. There will always be moments you are found desperate.

He chased the Ocean arcanum because he thought, if Sky granted him potential and freedom, then Ocean would grant him control, but the truth was more complicated than that. While it did grant him control (the ability to break free from Finnegrin's spell), it also granted him a rather hard truth he'd rather not know.

The first time he cites his poem about true tides and untold deaths, he is talking about his faith and trust in Rayla — the way he views her: "If she didn't tell me, she has a good reason. [...] I trust her. Unconditionally."

The second time he recites the poem, it is about himself. The untold depths are within himself, are parts he is still trying to understand in full because they are uncomfortable truths. In many ways, Callum unlocking the Ocean arcanum is his version of Ezran's 4x03 speech (see how we looped all the way back? 'Totally' intentional I swear), that multiple things can be, and sort of have to be, true in order to gain new ground, even if there's a part of you that wishes it could be simple.

I had a speech planned for today. It was about peace and love and hope. But I think I left something out. I ignored something that was true. I denied something that is undeniable. [I'm not a dark mage. I will never help you. -> That's the dark magic you want. Just... just let her go.]

And just like his brother, Callum can no longer deny the truth.

Callum had to accept parts of himself that he was previously denying — where they could lead and what they could do, and how he could be manipulated/coerced/controlled — in order to access the Ocean arcanum. Love both makes him stronger, by his own assessment, and weaker, per Finnegrin's. Losing control made him realize what he'll do in order to have control again, even if it's temporary, even if it might not work, even if it might have disastrous consequences, because what he gains in the process — in this case, Rayla's life and safety - is worth it to him, even if all that knowledge is also scary to him and something he's going to continue to learn how to cope with.

Callum's knowledge of himself then becomes a burden, both a metaphorical and literal chain (undoing his chains so that he can free Rayla, while knowing he's chaining himself further to Aaravos in the process).

With this in mind, the ocean arcanum thereby embodies all the facets of Knowledge we've largely been looking at across S4 and S5 in particular. It is Love ("To love is simply to know this") and self actualization/discovery ("parts of yourself you can't understand"). It is power ("The secret of the Ocean itself - the arcanum" "Impossible!") and it is a burden ("there are depths you can't see" with his hands clasped like chains not for the first or last time this episode). It is freedom, yes, but the Knowledge Callum now holds is also imprisonment.

Conclusion

If you made it all this way, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed. While there were other elements this season (Viren's atonement and self actualization arc which begins and ends with him becoming aware of the Truth, or knowledge, of his actions, for example) I felt they were better suited to other core themes or motifs — a general theme of self actualization or the way TDP discusses truth and sight, for example, than being tethered directly to Knowledge in this way.

I expect we'll see this be continued further as the cast chases more knowledge about Aaravos and his past / power in future seasons, in addition to the potential knowledge he and other Startouch elves such as Leola passed down to humanity that had a variety of consequences.

For now, I will see you in the next meta.

—Dragons out

#tdp meta #tdp #tdp soren #tdp callum #the dragon prince #rayllum #varrow #s5 #arc 2 #s4 #analysis series #analysis #listen i got to talk about oedipus rex so i'm happy as a clam

66 notes · View notes

fellpyrean · 1 year

Text

Advent Statement 6 - Shadow Puppet

oh boy we goin’. The original halfway point! I believe this one is actually a couple ideas I ended up fusing into one since I felt like some of the nuggets I had before couldn’t quite stand on their own?

No particular warnings on this one I don’t think; general canon-typical violence and I suppose possession of a sort?

Ah, almost forgot: this one is on ao3! Click here if you’d prefer to read over there!

___________________________________________________________

I didn’t know my grandfather.

I never really thought about it before, but I’ve. Had to realize some things very quickly, you know? Largely that the man I thought he was? Has nothing to do with who he actually was, or what kind of life he lived. I didn’t know, and I don’t think I want to look. Not sure I have a choice now, though.

He died last year. Outlasted my grandmother, which was surprising. Kind of thought she’d keep going to 103 out of spite; some old ladies are like that, you know. But no. She went quietly in her sleep a few years back, which left my grandfather alone in that big, old house. We still talked. I’m not going to pretend I visited a lot, because I didn’t. Once I moved out from my parent’s house, I went west and they all stayed put. I really only saw them when I could afford to fly out every couple years, with a few phone calls in between for the holidays.

But he seemed happy.

It came as an honest shock when he died, too. He’d been trucking along cheerful as ever, excited about his grilling, his gun collection and trips to the shooting range until the day he left. And, shocking as that was, probably the bigger surprise came when I was told he’d left me his house.

His son was still alive. My father. And I mean, they got on alright, so me taking the house felt a bit like getting involved in some family drama in the final act without a clue of the script that had come before, but, I mean. I still did it. Things weren’t really working out where I was, I did kind of miss everyone, and I won’t lie, it felt really good to screw my dad out of something for once.

It took about a month before I managed to tie up the loose ends and fly back out and take stock on my freshly inherited house. It seemed a lot smaller than I remembered, though it wasn’t small by any means. Just that the last time I’d spent time in it, I’d been maybe seven or eight. The front door had two glass windows on either side, and a landing with a high, vaulted ceiling and a bright, dusty light that cast nice, crisp shadows onto the walls - and above that, an overlook from the second story. I remembered they used to keep plants up there, since the sunlight spilled through the windows in the afternoon and made the whole space feel warm, open and bright. Welcoming.

It was just kind of dark then, of course. My flight hadn’t been early or on time. I ditched my bags by the front door and just went through the house, flicking on lights as I walked along, and paused here and there to admire the photos on the wall. He’d always liked to take pictures. I think if I’d asked he would have set up a dark room honestly; that was just how he was with me. He even got me a telescope once. He was always so eager to have me join him in his hobbies, but I was a kid, and poking around in the dark wasn’t as exciting as video games.

The house was a bit of a cluttered mess, but it was nice. Seeing these relics of his, left behind. Almost felt like I’d turn the corner and he’d be waiting there in the kitchen with a cup of black coffee, but, no. That was dark and empty too, and the stairs to go up were even darker. I never liked those stairs as a kid. The switch to turn on their light was half way up, which meant either a mad dash into the dark or a mad dash out of it if I was the last one to go to bed at night, or if I’d snuck down for a drink. My grandfather eventually stuck nightlights at either end, but I would still always run like mad.

I joked that it was so nothing would catch me. I was too fast for it, I’d say proudly, and my grandfather would always chuckle with a little too much cheer. I just thought he appreciated my bountiful wit.

The light wavered a little as I headed upstairs, but stayed on. It was honestly a little strange heading up. It was… so quiet, and the shadows so thick, clinging to the edges of the light. It looked a lot like a film effect; some high contrast trick, to make the lights look brighter and the shadows so, so much darker than they should be.

I actually had a little fun with it when I got to the top of the stairs. It reminded me of when I was small. We’d lived here for a while, my parents and me, when we’d first moved and money was tight. It was a big house and my grandparents were happy to have us along. I was given a big room above the garage, and oh, did I love it.

And I remembered, standing there at the top of the stairs, that I used to love turning on the flashlight in the dark and playing with shadow puppets across the ceiling. My grandfather taught me.

I liked making dogs the best.

I made one then, too. Just a simple thing. Thumb up, forefinger tucked. The rest formed its, hah, its fearsome maw. They were always so crisp here, I recalled. No matter what odd eagles or rabbits I cast flying or running across the spackled ceiling, they were special. Vivid.

Even that simple dog I cast then, barking idly at the edges of the shadow, seemed livelier than normal.

It put me in a nostalgic mood. I mean, I already was, given that, you know, this was my dearly departed and beloved grandfather’s house, but it made me feel young again. Small and smiling on just another normal night as I played with shadow puppets on the walls.

I headed to what had been my room, all those years ago. The hallway was utterly dark - each side of the hall dotted with closed doors, locked, and the switch busted - and barely a sliver of light came from beneath the door to my old room. It honestly wasn’t all that different from when I’d lived there; the bed was gone, but when I looked up at the ceiling, I saw the cheap, glow in the dark stars that I’d stuck there more than a decade before still stubbornly clinging to the paint, and the old couches I used to roll across were still here, too.

That light worked. Which I was glad for, because, admittedly, I was feeling a little spooked. It felt like something was waiting in the dark. The moonlight was so thin; it only helped the tree branches to cast shadows like grasping claws across the room, chaotic and tangled and absolutely unnerving when the wind rustled through them. I always thought those shadows would be all too happy to catch me as a kid. But it was light now, and the house was aglow with every switch I’d left on in my wake. It was practically cozy. I mean, minus the hallway right outside my room.

I let myself wander the room for a little bit, finding my old left-behind marks before I called it a night, fetched my bags, and decided to crash on the least destroyed of the old couches. There was a lot of work to be done, and I sure wasn’t doing it tonight.

It was maybe something like five days before something happened.

Just long enough for me to spend some time in nostalgic reminiscence before moving on to the simple fact that the house needed cleaning out, and I realized I didn’t have any of the keys for the locked rooms. I had the front and back door keys, of course, but anything on the interior was just… gone. I had some suspicions about that.

The house keys had been given, at first, to my aunt - my grandfather’s sister - who had a very good relationship with a certain childish, spiteful little man who had made no secret how irritated he was at being skipped over on something he’d already regarded as his own. It seemed like just the kind of thing he’d do; make sure the legal keys were handed over, and then sneer at the idea he’d do something as petty as taking the ones for all the interior doors. I didn’t doubt that he still had them, but I can be petty too, and I had no desire to call him up and plead or whatever he’d want from me.

Sooo, I, uh. Pulled up a video and found some of my grandmother’s hair pins in a bathroom drawer and picked the locks. They were all old and I mean, I’d be replacing them anyway, so I maybe busted a couple. Which included the real kicker; the door to my grandfather’s gun room. It was a lot darker than I thought it’d be when I first stepped inside and fumbled at the wall, shocked at the absolute blackness - I knew it had a window in there, so it was not a place I expected to be that dark.

Turned out, at some point, my grandfather had put blackout curtains over the window. Had stapled those curtains tight to the wall.

The bigger surprise was that every single gun my grandfather owned was scattered on top of the wooden table tops that bordered the room. Now, this was weird. As far as I knew he hadn’t died while cleaning them and he’d always been a real stickler about gun safety. He always kept this room locked, for one, and those guns were always, always kept inside the safe. One of those enormous things; so big and heavy he’d had to have the floor reinforced to put it upstairs, and the front of it emblazoned around the massive combination lock in old font with warnings for gunpowder. He’d told me it was so nobody decided to try and blast the thing open.

But now, each and every one was strewn around, like he’d pulled them all out in a hurry.

And the safe was locked.

I’m wasn’t sure if it was worse that it was locked or not, on first sight. I mean, if it had been open, that would have kind of fit with the idea that maybe he had died up there while admiring his collection. Admiring it in, uh. A haphazard mess. But it being locked implied that there was still something inside the safe. And I had… no idea what it would be. Logical brain said, very helpfully, that it was probably just more guns. Maybe he’d just gotten a lot more than would ever fit in the safe when he got older, and what with his wife gone and him being the only one in the house just. Threw safety to the winds and figured a single locked door was enough.

So why were his guns, some of his favorite things, strewn around like garbage? No idea! It’s argument was, as you can see, pretty thin, but what else could have been in there? My world view still had a few minutes left in its lifespan after all.

I headed over to the safe, wanting to give the handle a tug and check it out, when uh. When the safe growled. Low and throaty and deep, and oh, did it send a chill up my spine. And then something began scratching and clawing at the inside, again and again, with enough force that the safe shook. I wasn’t exaggerating when I said how big and heavy that thing was. You’d need serious professional movers to get the thing out with serious professional equipment, and there was something inside it snarling and scrabbling so furiously that it made the safe tremble and my blood run cold.

I could hear its claws scraping through metal. I had the wildest, clearest thought that whatever was in there - evidently alive and well after being locked inside a safe for over a month - it could absolutely get out if it just kept it up.

So why hadn’t it tried to get out before?

The light flickered.

And I backed up, reached out, and turned off the light.

The growling stopped almost immediately.

Well, as you may imagine, I handled this like any adult would. I shut the door, wedged a chair I dragged out of my old room under the regrettably busted handle, went downstairs and had a truly awful gin and tonic.

I did not like gin and tonic and I still do not. I like it less now, actually.

But a couple large gin and tonics in, I came up with a plan.

I would ignore it. Ta da~

It would be someone else’s problem. I would get a very nice lock. I would take out the light. Hell, maybe I could just take out the door entirely and wall it up and make an incredibly cursed forgotten room. I rather liked that idea. I told it to the door when I went back upstairs I think.

I need you to understand that I was… very, very drunk at that point. A drunk person is never a great measure of their own level of drunk, but from what I remember… yeah, I was smashed.

I left the locked and makeshift barricaded door alone and staggered back to my room and slept it off and then continued on with my peerless plan of Just Ignore It™.

I never bothered to examine any implications of my grandfather leaving me a safe with some kind of creature locked inside it, because I had other things to do. There were some nights where I would pull out that gin and drink again, though. The room and the safe were both quiet as long as I didn’t turn on any lights in the hall, so I started… I mean, humans are very adaptable, so I started drinking outside that room. I sat in the chair, actually.

As long as it was dark, it didn’t care, so it was fine. And when it growled, faint and rumbling, when I turned on a flashlight, I turned it into something of a game?

It was fine with candlelight. It only grumbled at that. So, as you do, I sat there with my candle and my gin and rambled at it. At some point it occurred to me that the growling sounded like a very large dog, so I started… Talking to it in that baby voice you use with pets. Making shadow puppets at it. It would growl and I would laugh and make my little shadow puppet dog bark and growl back.

I’m not saying this was a smart thing to do. Or maybe it was. As far as I knew, it was locked up nice and tight. It even stopped growling as much after a while. It sounded more… curious than anything? Confused why this drunk dumbass hadn’t left screaming yet? I’m pretty sure it would have actually stayed fine and my bricking it up plan was actually good, but, well. Some people can’t leave well enough alone.

I went out one afternoon. I had things to take to the dump, which was a bit of a drive, and on the way back I decided to grab some Mexican food from this restaurant down the street, so I got back well after dark, only to see the front door hanging open and an awful lot of dark, splashing stains leading off through the gravel walk and up to the street. They were smeared. Like something had thrashed desperately in the grass as it fled.

This was not what I had in mind when I got my bag of tamales to go.

I was tired, cranky, and my house was probably a… A what? A murder scene? Attempted murder scene?

I’d just about dialed 911 to share my now very bad night with someone else when I thought of… upstairs. Of the door I’d not bothered fixing the lock to, and all the guns I’d never bothered moving. Of the safe I didn’t have the key or the combination to, but someone else did. I went very still.

I turned back to the grass and raised my phone. The flashlight blazed white-bright in the dark, making all-too-clear the dark, dark red on the grass. And the single, familiar pistol that gleamed, smeared in blood, dropped just off the gravel. Of bullet holes I spotted, peppering the old, wooden beams that framed the porch.

Of a dark, ink-black stain without a single hint of red that oozed across the landing tiles.

And a growl that rose in instant, murderous fury.

The light on my phone died. Flicked out like a snuffed candle and everything went black. It shouldn’t have been that dark. The moon was out. The neighbor’s houses were only a yard away. But in that moment, it was all gone. All that was left was a sea of pitch-dark shadow, so dark your eyes start fooling you. Because there must have been something to see.

I could hear it.

The growing, low snarl. The click of claws on cement. The crunch of footsteps stalking across gravel.

I know I didn’t see it, but my eyes… invented something for me to see.

A hound. Long and lanky, with sharp, pricked ears.

Like the ones I made puppets of on the wall.

It… hurt to look at. Its shape blurred at the edges, impossibly blacker-black than the void around it, and I knew what I was seeing was useless, so I. Closed my eyes.

Its heavy, panting growls came closer and closer. I was honestly terrified. I’d been shoving back how scared I was of this thing while I joked about sealing it up behind a little devil door or a brick wall through a haze of alcohol, and I hadn’t let myself consider what would happen if it did get out.

I felt its cold, cold breath on my hands. Like ice. Like a. A pressure that wrapped around me as I stood there, my eyes shut tight against the dark. And then it. It burned. I couldn’t move, couldn’t pull away as my arm burst into absolute agony, like a million needles sinking into the flesh and burrowing beneath it. As that ice cold held me absolutely still, fixed in place as well as a bug with a pin, and sank horrid, frigid fangs into me, again and again, until it felt like every bone in my body was freezing inside me, until the pain rose so high that I couldn’t think of anything else.

A-And then it was gone. I crumpled to the ground, my breath frosty on my lips, and I just lay there, shivering.

It took me a while to realize I could see again. To realize there were stars and a moon in the cloud-streaked summer sky above and neighboring porch lights and their wreaths of moths. That I should feel warmth coming back. But… it didn’t. It was all gone. And then I felt myself move. It wasn’t me moving. And it wasn’t like someone pulled any strings. It was like. Like I felt that cold touch on me, sliding over my skin, and my body moved with it.

And as I stood, I happened to catch a glimpse of my shadow.

It wasn’t mine anymore.

My shadow had become that thing. And all I could do was watch as it puppeted me back inside, my steps in time with its own.

Do you want to know the craziest thing about this? I mean, aside from the fact that my shadow is a monster now that takes my body on joyrides. That there’s a goddamn cult in my grandfather’s hometown, and they were so, so happy to see me when my shadow dragged me to meet them.

That night? It took me inside. It brought me up to the chair in front of its room. The door was open, the safe yawning wide. Guns littered the stairs and bullet holes peppered the walls.

It sat me in that chair and lit the candle, and made shadow puppets with my hands.

Eagles, rabbits. And a pair of dogs.

A small one and a big one. Running around until it brought them together, and they merged into one.

#tma advent project #crowswritings #still and lightless beast's friendly cousin named Licorice

0 notes

hilli98215 · 2 years

Text

West Side Story (2021) Review

West Side Story is probably one of the most well known adaptations of Romeo Juliet for modern audiences. I grew up watching this musical before even realizing that until I was teenager.

The music is iconic. The musical numbers are unforgettable. And the story is a classic.

So when I heard there was going to be a new film adaptation of the musical directed by Stephen Spielberg, I was excited to see what he would do with this classic musical.

And let’s just say he did not disappoint.

Now, I am not here to compare and contrast the two films. There are various YouTube videos and articles that can do that a lot better than I can ever do.

No. I am here to give an honest review of the film though I do seem to focus on three to four things. Spoilers ahead which is kinda odd considering it is an adaptation of Romeo and Juliet and is basically the same story as the 1961 film. You have been warned.

Here we go!

First of all, this is a beautiful film. This film immediately shows the world we are visiting for the next 2 hours. It is real. It is changing. It hits close to home. In that, I mean we see all this construction and the transition between old New York and new New York. This can be seen when we see the sign for the Lincoln Center for the Performing Arts which began construction in 1955 and opened in 1962. This theme of fast-moving change is constant throughout the film.

The colors in the costuming are bright and there is a lot of symbolism in that aspect. Especially in the ‘Mambo’ dance scene in the gym. The Sharks are in shades of blue and the Jets are in shades of red to show how different they really are.

The songs themselves are wonderful, familiar, yet sparks something new. Let's talk about my favorite song which is ‘Officer Krupke’. Why is this my favorite song? It’s just so freaking funny. In the original, the boys perform this in the street after they bump into the officer. In this version they perform the song in the police station where their audience is a prostitute. It was then I realized that one of the Jets was also in Newsies (Ben Cook who portrayed Race). Anyway, this scene was filled with comedy, athleticism, and is what we needed at that point in the film.

My least favorite song was anything that has Ansel Elgort singing. He was terrible. To put it bluntly. My mom and sister said it was like hearing cardboard if cardboard could sing. It was a huge no from us.

The biggest surprises include Rachel Zegler, Ariana DeBose, and Mike Faist. They were the best part of the film. Their performance is the sole reason I would recommend seeing the film.

From what I can tell, this is Rachel Zegler’s first film performance and she is a delight to watch in the role of Maria. Her voice is phenomenal and my mouth dropped when she hit those notes. She also gives a lot of emotion necessary for this role. And seeing her performance when she gets hold of the gun from Chino is WOW!

Ariana DeBose is recognizable from the musical theater community as she originated the role as the “Bullet” in Hamilton, she was in Bring It On! The Musical, Motown The Musical, Pippin, A Bronx Tale, Summer: The Donna Summer Musical. Film-wise, she was in the pro shot of Hamilton, and the film adaptation of The Prom. Television wise, she was in Schmigadoon! as Emma Tate. Knowing all of this, she was the perfect choice as Anita. She had the voice. Her dancing was phenomenal. And I could watch her in this film on repeat.

Mike Faist (who, when researching for this review, was in the original Broadway cast of Newsies as Morris Delancey. Who knew?) is probably recognizable for originating the role of Connor Murphy from the show Dear Evan Hansen. I had no clue he could dance. That was surprising and he was perfect for the role of Riff. There was just something about the way he was speaking, and those little expressions he made added to the character.

But yes go see this film for those three, please. They are phenomenal.

Of all the numbers, my favorite change (other than the one I mentioned earlier) is ‘Cool’. The 1961 version, it’s about the boys cooling down after the rumble. In the 2021 version, it is after Riff buys the gun and is before the rumble. The placement of this song is interesting since in the original, you have a calm collected character calming down the group. Here, we have Tony trying to calm down Riff who is impulsive and wants to bring a gun to a fistfight. It’s more of an argument between Tony and Riff. The choreography is decent but we do see how strained the relationship is between these two characters. This is probably a great example of how to turn a group number into a solo or duet. Much unlike another adaptation that tried to do the same.

Really quick! I also like how they:

Added background to the characters like Tony and Bernardo

Why the Jets want to fight the Sharks other than racism

Gave Rita Morena a role as a nod to the original

All the literal symbolism

The camera work

The change in song order

The way the characters had an audience when singing and dancing

Had the actors speak Spanish without subtitles being on the screen

Having Chino take his glasses off to show how he has ‘turned’ violent

The bad:

Ansel Elgort

Overall, go see this film. Support these artists. You will not regret it!

@tending-the-hearth @whitmerule

@skimblyshanks Tagging you guys because you seemed interested

#west side story #west side story 2021 #stephen spielberg #ansel elgort #rachel zegler #ariana debose #mike faist #film review #modern movie musicals #musical #movie musical #top films of the year #long post #tagged post #film

19 notes · View notes

jaceyneedsabetterusername · 3 years

Text

As Usual

Pairing: Mando x Reader

Summary: When Mando finds himself in need of some help in a tiny village on Arbiflux, he may leave with more than he expected.

Warnings: Violence, mentions of sexual assault (or at least alluding to it), a lot of unimportant OC’s with names to fill the town

Word Count: 5700

A/N: This is my first Mando fic so I’m really sorry if it sucks. I tried though and if you guys enjoy this, I have an idea for another one.

_____________________________

The Mandalorian caught your attention the moment he walked into your family’s blacksmith shop. Tall, angular, and mysterious, the man landed his ship in the large clearing just on the other side of the river from where your town was and made his way across the utilitarian wooden bridge directly to the shops. You watched in curiosity as this new stranger made his way into your village, a small bundle of something you couldn’t make out walking right next to him.

You had heard stories of the Mandalorians and the Great Purge, though you were no expert by any means on anything other than simply knowing they existed. Seeing one in person though felt surreal. For all you’d known, they’d been killed off years ago. But apparently not all because one was approaching you quickly.

“Can I help you?” You asked, taking your worn protective leather gloves off and walking towards the open mouth of your family’s forge where the Mandalorian had approached.

“I need a part for my ship to be fixed.” He answered shortly in a vaguely robotic voice.

Tousling your fingers through your locks, you attempted to blindly force the stray hairs into place, “Well, we don’t get too many visitors with ships here. Your best bet for finding someone who can fix your ship would probably be in the city.”

“Where is the nearest city?” He questioned, lifting a small bundle of tan fabric off the ground. Your brows furrowed when you saw that there was a small wrinkly green baby but the Mandalorian tucked the child further into his chest, almost shielding him from your view for some odd reason.

Writing the action off, you pointed to your right with your thumb, “About ten miles west.”

“How long is it to travel?”

“On foot, about four hours. With a kaadu, maybe two.” You explained, gesturing to the large reptilian creatures in the pens around town. Mando sighed heavily and you got the impression he was on a limited time constraint, “What do you need fixed?”

The man shifted, “The ventilation system. The fins on the fan are damaged, blocking it from spinning. The oxygen is hardly circulating throughout the ship.”

“Broken fins? They metal?” You asked, to which the man just nodded, “I might be able to help if that’s the only problem. Can I see?”

The Mandalorian led you back to his ship and you walked inside, skin crawling with excitement. You’d never been on a ship before. Like you’d told the man earlier, they never really landed in your little village and you seldom traveled to the bigger cities. It was like a metal maze, cramped but still somehow roomy enough to be comfortable.

You took in your surroundings as he led you through the small hallways, stopping when you saw an almost book-like assortment of massive sheets of a black substance with what appeared to be carvings of screaming people. An uneasiness settled in the air that the Mandalorian noticed, glancing back over his shoulder to see you looking at his assortment of bounties that had been frozen in Carbonite. Since people had come after him, he wasn’t really sure what to do with the criminals he had yet to deliver but the thought was always pushed off. It wasn’t like they were going anywhere.

“They’re alive. Just should have cooperated.” Your brows furrowed in confusion at his words so he continued reluctantly, “Bounties.”

“Oh, you’re a bounty hunter?” You asked, relaxing slightly. Knowing that whoever these people were were both criminals and still alive, you felt a little better. They must have been pretty bad people if they had bounties on their heads.

You were far from naive but you weren’t well experienced in matters of the universe. Arbiflux had been your only home, and, even then, you seldom left your small village. Always work to do, anything to help your family. You’d always dreamed of adventure though, getting off the forested planet and exploring the galaxy. The Mandalorian must have travelled all over the galaxy in his line of work and seen so much. It made you envious. You took his silence to your first question as an agreement so you continued, “I’d imagine work would have taken you all over the place. I’ve never left this planet. Hell, I’ve only ever left the village a handful of times.”

“I have been to quite a few planets.” His modulated voice humored your musings, turning to continue his way to the ventilation system.

You trailed behind, vague metal echoes following your boot covered footsteps, “What are they like?”

“A lot of desert planets. Some have swamps. Some have forests. Some are just cities. A few are all ice. Some are a combination.” As he spoke, you fantasized about all the planets that could be out there. You had done so many times before and every time the new planets became more and more fantastic, sometimes to an unrealistic degree. But how could anything be unrealistic when you didn’t really know the constraints of reality in your own universe?

“I’ve always wanted to see them.” You mused out loud, “Your ship is really nice by the way.”

Mando looked back at you and, although you could see no hint of expression behind the helmet you immediately recognized as being made from beskar, he had an eyebrow cocked at you. It didn't sound like you were making fun of him but he knew the Razor Crest was anything but. "You haven't seen many ships before, have you?"

With a small shrug and slightly twisted face, you shook your head, "We don't get too many people coming through town and I don't make it into the city often."

Mando almost felt bad for you. He had learned how to read people easily and you were an open book. It was in the way you stood, the words you spoke, the way your eyes twinkled in amazement at the smallest things on his ship. You were a girl who loved her family and had a sense of duty to them. He assumed by the look of the shop you worked in that blacksmithing was a generational career, probably dating back to your grandparents, at least. He could see the love for your community and home but he also saw a fire for adventure, for anything other than what you knew. With every word, every little subconscious movement, his image of you became clearer and clearer.

"This is the fan." Mando stopped suddenly and pointed to an open panel in the ship's wall. You halted quickly, having almost forgotten why you entered the Razor Crest to begin with. "The rest of the system works. I was able to fix the wiring. It's just this part here that was damaged and now it won't rotate. It won't circulate the oxygen."

He stepped to the side, allowing you to step in and inspect the damage. It was a long cylindrical metal piece with five slanted blades evenly spaced around the circumference. There was a mechanism in the middle that led you to assume that it spun around on some metal rod and the blades circulated the oxygen throughout the ship. Sure enough, two of the blades were bent and crumpled, so much so that when you gave the device a little test nudge to see if it would spin at all, it only rotated an inch or so before the crumpled fans hit another part of the system with a klink, preventing it from moving more.

"As long as these just need to be flattened and straightened out, this should be a breeze. I could have it done by the end of the day." You continued to inspect the blades to get a full understanding of the damage. "So what happened to it anyway?"

"There was an altercation on board with a passenger. A stray shot from her gun hit the panel that used to cover this and it bent everything up." Mando remembered the fight with the Twi'lek woman. She was a fellow bounty hunter, yet another person who wanted the money for the Child.

The slight black scar from the laser on the wall confirmed the report and you ran your finger over the smudge, curious to see if it would wipe away. It didn't. "Sounds like such an interesting life."

“You said you could have it done by the end of the day?” The Mandalorian ignored your wistful comment and set the Child on the ground, making sure he stayed in eyesight. He didn’t see you as someone who would harm the baby but he also couldn’t be sure after everything that had happened.

You nodded, “Yeah, this looks pretty simple. But you’re going to have to take it apart. I have no clue how any of that works and I don’t want to be responsible if it breaks.”

“That’s no problem.” The Mandolorian stepped over and pulled on a few wires, disconnected a few fuses, and before you knew it, the overall fan had dislodged from its place with a hiss of decompression. He turned it in his hands until he found the button he had to push to unlock the mechanism holding each blade in place. It took no time before he handed you the broken blades one by one.

You held the blades in your arms, moderately sized at about 18 inches long and 9 inches across. Leaning forward, you inspected the intact ones to get an idea of how these needed to be shaped. “Well, there’s not much to do in the village while you wait, I’m afraid. There’s a little bar you could hang out at I suppose. They serve some decent food.”

“Thank you. I’ll be around.” He responded in his typical concise manner.

The blades really were quick work, like you’d expected. What took the longest was the order you had before, which was making the metal wedges of Naz Ta’ron’s ridge plow that he’d ordered to be made last week. Farm equipment made up most of your work, unfortunately, aside from the occasional weaponry. The weaponry never took too long, definitely not as much as you’d like. Making swords and hatchets was a hell of a lot more interesting than manufacturing plows and wheels.

By the time the sun had just begun to set, you had finished the third blade, dipping the last blazing orange, newly repaired fan blade into the large bucket of water, bubbles sizzling aggressively at the contact with the nearly molten metal and cooling it rapidly. After setting it down on the workbench to cool, you untied your leather smock and brushed the loose strands of hair out of your face. As far as you could remember, these looked exactly like the intact fans back on the ship, though in better condition. You had no idea what they looked like new but this had to be close.

Throughout the day, you’d watched from afar as the Mandalorian had wandered through the booths before returning to the ship with what you presumed to be a basket full of supplies. That was earlier in the day and he’d since been waiting in the bar you’d told him about earlier. You powered down the forge and gathered the fans before walking over to the bar. It was only a few buildings down, no more than a few hundred feet away, so the walk was quick. People meandered around town on their usual paths, the ones you came to know each person in the small village to take by heart.

When you entered the bar, the usual people were in there. K’jann Ving, Jared Amavia, and Haera Kiwai all sat in their usual seats with their usual drinks. All so usual. The only thing out of place was the Mandolorian sitting at the booth in the corner with his little baby whatever-he-was.

He noticed you enter right away, which wasn’t saying much considering the small size of the room. You walked right up to the table, “Fans are all finished up. Figured I’d drop them off.”

You placed the sheets of metal on the table. The Mandolorian reached down beneath the table and pulled out a small brown bag, “How much?”

“30 credits?” You estimated, not really knowing how to price such a repair. Compared to other weapon repairs, though this was only slightly more because there were more than one things needing repairing.

The Mandolorian began to sift through his bag, presumably counting out the coins. The little green baby by his side stared up at you with adorable large eyes and cooed. You couldn’t help the smile that crept on your face when his tiny arms reached out towards you, though you made no move to pick him up, opting to give him a tiny wave instead. Babies had always seemed to like you. Your nieces and nephews had loved you from the moment they were born.

A commotion sounded from outside the bar that stole your attention away from your payment and the Child. Your brows furrowed when you made eye contact with K’jann, who looked equally as confused as you did. Jared stood up from his spot at the bar and walked to the door, “What the hell is going on out there?”

Before he could find an answer, a bright flash of light struck him in the chest and he fell, lifeless. You shrieked and jumped at the unexpected attack. “Get down!” The Mandolorian demanded, pulling you closer to him before shoving the table over. He pushed you to the ground, scooped the child up, and placed him beside you hurriedly before you could comprehend what was happening. You were lying on the ground on your back, using the table as a wall of sorts to shield from the gun shots that were assailing towards you.

“Protect the Child!” The Mandolorian demanded of you, his voice surprisingly calm considering he had just been randomly attacked.

The baby reached up and clung to your shirt, struggling to pull himself up into your arms for protection. You reached around his body and scooped him up, flinching when a blast of laser zinged a little too close to your face for comfort.

“You’ve been a hard one to reach, Mando. You could’ve just given us the Child and it would all be done with but now we’re gonna kill you, take the kid, and your shiny armor.” A man’s voice taunted from the other side of the table barricade.

What the hell kind of trouble was this guy in?!

The Mandolorian jumped over the table and you reached out for him, his cape slipping through your fingers as he disappeared into the fight “Wait!” You called out to now avail. What the hell was he doing? There were a few grunts and groans. The laser blasts stopped being directly in your direction and began to be shot more erratically around the room.

“Get him out of here!” The Mandolorian’s modulated voice yelled at you from the other side.

This was it. You were going to die. This was what you got for craving adventure.

The baby squirmed against your body, making little fearful noises. Rolling over onto your knees, you scooped up the baby and held him tightly against your chest before reaching into your pocket and procuring a blaster. Peeking around the corner of the table first to ensure that it was clear to run, you took off like a bullet, darting as quickly as possible to the door.

The Mandalorian was fighting against two humans, a Rodian, and a Cerean woman at once. It appeared like he had them until the massive Cerean woman pinned him on the table, hand crushing over a part of his forearm that he seemed in a struggle to have access to.

You didn’t know anything about this man other than the fact that he was a bounty hunter with a broken ventilation system. Why did you want to help him? Why were you putting your life on the line to aid him when you knew damn well he could very clearly be in the wrong? Why did you trust him so much when you knew literally nothing about him?

The Cerean woman fell on top of the Mandalorian the moment you pulled the trigger. He groaned at the heavy weight but used her body to knock one of the human men down. He quickly tapped on his forearm, right where the woman had been pressing, and a large flame shot out towards the Rodian, who shielded his face.

You began to run towards the door again, so close to escaping with the child, but something hard suddenly knocked your feet out from under you and you crashed to the ground with a painful thud. You clutched the baby close to your chest as you fell, using your body to shield him from the impact. Your eyes opened to see a tall Zabrak woman that you hadn’t seen previously standing over you.

“Aw, Mando! Using some little village girl to save the kid? That’s a new level of low.” She chuckled sadistically, rolling her eyes from the Mandalorian and back to you, “Sorry, babe, you don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into. Hand over the kid so I don’t have to kill you.”

You froze in fear for a moment, brain stuck buffering in a desperate attempt to comprehend the situation you were in.

“Guess I have to kill you.” She continued with an unapologetic shrug after only a second or two. She had a large staff in her hand that she spun around with skill, picking up enough momentum for the black metal rod to look like a blur, before slamming it down right where your head was. Thankfully, you rolled to the side just in time for the stick to slam into the ground with enough force that it very easily could have killed you.

Without a second thought, you aimed the blaster that was still in your hand just in time and shot her square in the chest. Her body crumpled into a heap of black robes, her staff clattering to the ground. It took you a moment to realize that the commotion had ceased.

The Mandalorian hurried over to you, “Are you okay?”

Your whole body was shaking but you nodded, adrenaline pumping through your veins, “What the hell was that about?” You demanded, sitting up finally. When you looked around, you noticed that everyone who had attacked was dead. The other patrons of the bar had seemed to escape.

Mando reached to take the kid from your grasp but stopped when he noticed how the small alien snuggled into your body like it was the safest place in the galaxy. You looked down to inspect his little body for injuries but he thankfully appeared unharmed. “I’ve been quested to bring him to the Jedi. He was originally a bounty I was supposed to bring in but I learned that the man who wanted him was going to hurt him. I couldn’t give him up. It’s my duty to protect him. People all over the galaxy like this have been trying to get the bounty on both of our heads.”

“What’s so special about him?” The baby looked like any other baby alien. You hadn’t necessarily seen many baby aliens but this one didn’t seem particularly extraordinary.

“I honestly don’t know for sure. I do know he can do things with his mind when he wants to, though. I figure it has something to do with that.” He extended a hand, pulling you up to your feet, “I’m sorry you got involved.”

You shook your head slightly, looking around at the bodies littering the bar, two of which you were responsible for killing, “You said they were going to hurt the baby?” You asked rhetorically, “It’s no problem.”

“Do all small town blacksmiths just carry blasters on them?” He asked, nodding towards the gun that was still in your hand.

You tucked it away again, “We’ve gotten a few less than pleasant visitors from neighboring cities and towns. Just some jerks who come to town looking to pick a fight with the men or take what they want from the women. Pull out a blaster, it’ll usually put them in their place.”

Mando thought about what that actually meant for a moment and a few more pieces of the puzzle that was you began to click together in his head. He couldn’t help but wonder how many times you’d had to pull the gun on a man who was trying to take advantage of you and the thought made his heart sink. He didn’t know you nearly at all but nobody deserved that. There was a twinge of protectiveness in his chest that made him want to track down anyone who’d ever threatened that sort of harm to you and show them just how good at killing the Mandalorians really were.

There wasn’t time for that, though. If these five bounty hunters were here by now, there’d be more soon. He couldn’t risk getting caught up with any more people who wanted to take the Child. “Well you’re a good shot,” He complimented with a small nod of his helmet, “Anyways, we need to take off now. If they already knew we were here, others will be here soon. You said the parts were ready?”

You nodded, “They were. I’m not exactly sure where they are now, though.” Your face twisted as you gestured around the freshly wrecked bar, furniture pieces just as strewn out of place as the cups and plates that were on them.

The two of you looked around for the fans and people from around town slowly funnelled into the bar, also helping to clean up the debris from the attack. “You need to go.” Zim Golu, the bar’s owner stood over Mando, who was crouched down to pick up one of the fans that he’d finally found. Zim Golu’s arms were crossed, his cheek bleeding from being hit with something during the fight.

“I’m sorry about the damage,” Mando stood up, “I just need to find a part for my ship and we’ll be off this planet as soon as it’s installed.”

Zim Golu stepped closer, “I don’t care about your part. I want you out of my bar.”

You looked over from the next table over, setting down the chair you had picked up where it was supposed to be. “What’s the problem?” You questioned, walking over to the pair with furrowed brows.

“There’s no problem.” Mando responded calmly, “We’ll be leaving as soon as I find the pieces I need.”

“No, he’ll be leaving now.”

The Child, who had been wandering around the building while you all cleaned, came up and held onto your leg. You glanced down before gently running your fingers over his head. “We cannot leave without these pieces. The oxygen can’t move through the ship without them. We barely made it here as it was.” Mando again was calm but insistent.

“What don’t you understand, Mando? Look at the trouble you’ve caused my bar and this whole town.” Zim Golu clearly had no intention of backing down, despite the fact that the intimidating Mandalorian towered over him.

You stepped forward and extended your arm between the men, “Mando, why don’t you go back to the ship and wait there. I will look for the pieces and deliver them when I find them.” You sent Zim Golu a look that told him that that was what was going to be what happened, whether he liked it or not. “How’s that?”

The bar owner shot Mando a dirty look before pointing to the door, “Don’t come back to this place again.”

Mando stood strong and emotionless under the shield of beskar and stared down Zim Golu as he walked away.

“I’ll meet you at your ship in a few. We’ve already found two so the last one shouldn’t take long to find.” Mando looked down at you while you spoke. You handed him the first two fans you found, “Maybe you can get these installed while you wait. I’m sorry about Zim Golu. He’s always cranky.”

“No, I understand. I’d be mad if my bar was destroyed by strangers too. Thank you for looking. We’ll be on the ship,” He beckoned for the Child to follow him out the door but the baby was hesitant, only wanting to be near you for some reason, “C’mon.” Mando picked up the baby and carried him out.

Finding the last fan was more difficult than you had hoped. When the table was pushed over, it had been kicked under a shelf in the corner and it took you lying face down on the ground to finally see it.

When you got to the ship, you awkwardly stepped up onto the ramp that led up to the Razor Crest and just up to the entrance of the main hull, “Uh, hello? Mando? It’s Y/N. I found the fan.” You announced, looking around while you waited for the man to appear before entering the ship.

He climbed down a small ladder and approached you. You extended the fan blade out to him, “Here it is. Sorry it took so long.” You apologized, following Mando as he took off down the hall towards the ventilation system. “How did the other two fit? Is it working?”

He stopped by the busted open wall panel that was supposed to conceal the ventilation system and pulled out the cylindrical piece that the blades attached to. He slipped the last one into place and it fit perfectly, “They fit nicely. Now we just need to see if it works.” He slid the mechanism back into place and reattached all the wires that he’d removed earlier. “Stay here and tell me if it spins properly. I’ll head up to the cockpit and activate it.”

With that, he disappeared before you could protest (not that you were going to) up to where you assumed the cockpit was. You waited patiently until the low hum of the ventilation system kicked on and the fan began to rotate without a hitch. The Child waddled around the corner and right to you, arms up, asking to be held. You lifted him into your arms with a smile and held up your palm to him, “We fixed it! High five, buddy. Or, well, high three, I guess.” You chuckled, counting his fingers. The baby didn’t understand what you were trying to achieve so you gently tapped the palm of your hand against his in a forced high five.

“Is it working?” Mando’s robotic voice asked from behind you and you spun around to face him.

You nodded, “Everything’s looking good.”

Mando immediately noticed the Child in your arms but, for once, he didn’t tense up at it. You felt safe, which perhaps was an error to assume such characteristics, but he couldn’t help it. Besides, he’d never seen the Child so affectionate with anyone other than himself. “Thank you for all of your help. I’m sorry about the trouble we brought with us.”

“It’s no problem. If I’m being honest, it was kind of thrilling.” You chuckled, looking away with a small blush. That probably made you sound crazy.

A silence settled over the two of you and Mando watched as your attention quickly turned back to the Child in your arms. “He really likes you.” Mando noted, “He’s not usually like that.”

A small smile appeared on your face, “Well I must say I’m pretty fond of him too. He’s adorable. And, for what it’s worth, I think what you’re doing is really noble.” You told the Mandalorian. Why did complimenting him give you butterflies? You had no idea what the man looked like. For all you knew, he could have tentacles for a mouth or four eyes. But, regardless, there was just something about him that made you uncomfortable in the best way - in the sort of way that left your skin crawling with excitement and a constant little urge in the back of your head that made you desperate for him to like you.

“I appreciate that.”

Another small moment of silence again left you rocking back and forth on your heels. “Where are you off to next?” You inquired curiously.

“I don’t know. We’ll figure it out though. Tatooine isn’t too far from here. We might go there and lie low for a day or two.” Mando responded.

A question had been whirring around your mind since the Mandalorian first arrived and enlisted your help but you didn’t realize how hard asking it would actually be. You knew, though, that this was your last chance. “Can I come with?” You asked, the words coming out quickly.

“This isn’t a passenger ship.” He answered simply.

“I don’t mean like a taxi or whatever. I mean... “ You struggled to figure out how to ask, “Can I come with you guys? Wherever you go, I don’t really care. I don’t have any money to pay you but I can help however you need. I have some survival skills in the wilderness. I can sort of fix some things. I have child care experience. And I’m a fast learner for anything else you might need.” You chewed your lip while waiting for the Mandalorian to respond.

“Why would you want to do that?”

You sighed, “I just… I don’t want to die here knowing I never did anything but smash metal with a hammer. I don’t want to spend my whole life stuck in this little village when there’s an entire galaxy out there to see. I understand that joining you would mean a life of danger but I think I’m willing to risk that.”

Mando pondered the proposition. He had no actual need for a companion on his journey to deliver the Child to the Jedi but he could see the potential luxury in having one. Clearly, the Child really liked you. Fighting and caring for the Child was difficult at times and having an extra pair of hands would definitely prove helpful. Although you weren’t a trained warrior, you could hold your own in a fight and had no problem pulling the trigger when the moment called for it. You did have the ability to fix things that he wasn’t able to, at least when you had the proper tools.

Beyond that, he could see your desperateness to leave this planet. Mando had never been what many would call a “softie.” He did what needed to be done and would do whatever it took to meet those ends. He had his ethics, of course, and obviously he felt bad for the people that he couldn’t help but he had to admit that he often had the “not my problem” mentality. Perhaps it was attributed to his newfound position as a father figure or maybe it was because he actually cared about you for some unknown reason, but he found himself sympathizing with your situation. He could see in your eyes that you saw hope in him and the Razor Crest as a way to get off Arbiflux. This was your opportunity to leave behind a life of “the usual.” But he still couldn’t help but find himself stuck on what you said earlier about the men from neighboring towns coming in to take advantage of the women here. The fact that you carried a gun in an otherwise safe community simply to defend yourself against men like that actually enraged him. His “not my problem” mentality seemed to be receding to his yearning to help you in some way, especially after all you’d done for him.

He couldn’t believe he was doing this. “People try to kill us almost everywhere we go. You will never be safe. Can you handle that?”

With a hard swallow, you nodded your head.

“We are leaving in thirty minutes. Take only what you need.”

Your eyes widened with surprise and a big smile spread on your face, “Wait, are you serious?”

“Yes. As long as you understand what coming with me entails, I could use the help.” Mando didn’t actually hate his decision to allow you to come with. Part of him was actually a little excited to have another person, an actual companion, on board. Of course, he would gladly kill you or strand you on an icy planet the second you indicated any harmful intent towards the Child but that seemed highly unlikely at the moment.

The way you did a little excited jump made him smile under the helmet. Your enthusiasm and gratefulness gave you a humble, real, and, frankly, slightly adorable energy, despite the badass edge of literally forging blades and shooting people. “Thank you so much! You won’t regret this. I will be right back!” He watched as you ran off the Razor Crest, presumably to your home to grab a bag of personal belongings.

Mando moved to the main hold and sat on a box, the Child standing on the ground and looking up at him. He could have sworn that the little green baby was giving him that look. It was the look that kids gave their friends when their crush walked by. “Hey, knock that off. You better be on your best behavior for her. She’s willing to help you not get killed so be thankful she’s coming along.” Mando told the tiny being, who just giggled in response. “We’re just helping her! It’s not like that.” Mando insisted to the Child, exasperated with his silent (imagined) insistence. It didn’t occur to him that he really was just arguing with himself.

He stood up and did a once around the ship to try and work out the logistics of living with you. Frankly, he wasn’t sure where you’d sleep or how living with another person was going to work as it had been so long since he’d spent more than a few days with someone. All Mando knew was that he wasn’t totally dreading your company.

#mando x you #mando x y/n #the mandolorian x reader #the mandalorian #din dijarin x reader #din djarin #din djaren #din djarin fics #mando imagine #mando fic #pedro pascal #star wars

264 notes · View notes

avaritia-apotheosis · 3 years

Text

Phantom Children Ch. 7

Massive thanks to my awesome betas for this chapter!

In Which: A Story is Given to the Locked Room

AO3 | Prologue | 6 | [ 7 ] | 8

DICK DOESN’T REALLY KNOW WHAT TO FEEL. Surprised, maybe? Though he really isn’t all that shocked. Not that the revelation of another Wayne kid isn’t surprising, it’s just that—well…

Bruce has a tendency to attract foolhardy kids with a strong sense of justice and a willingness to harp on Batman until he gives them wings and teaches them how to fly. It’s the way of the world. The sky is blue, the sun sets in the west, and little Robin-hopefuls flock to Batman like ducklings to their big, brooding, mother duck. (That most of them are black haired and blue-eyed with some sort of traumatic backstory is a coincidence. Probably. The universe is just weird that way.)

And Bruce, bleeding heart that he is despite all the steel walls and nuclear spike fields he placed around it, always had a soft spot for children. It’s what people don’t get when they call Robins and Batgirls, former or current, child soldiers. They think that Batman picks these children up from gutter alleys and unfortunate homes, breaking and reshaping them into crusaders for his war against crime.

(What most don’t get is that the easiest way to gain ‘favorite child’ status in the Wayne household is to just stay home and live the most normal life possible. All of them—with the exception of Damian and Cass—chose this life. And even those two chose to stick with it, even when Bruce was more than happy to give them a way out.)

Dick was one of the first to stand at Batman’s side. The original. The ‘golden boy’ as Jason always put it. He’d been there so early in Batman’s career that, years later, it’s nearly inconceivable to imagine Batman without his Robin. He’s been there for Bruce’s soaring highs, his crushing lows, his mundane middles, just as Bruce has been there for him. Sure, they’ve had their fights, but Dick had always settled himself with the knowledge that he was one of the few people that knew everything about Bruce Wayne.

But this . This nursery—no, this memorial . This monument that spoke of a life that could have, should have, would have been, is something that predates Robin’s existence. A story, a memory that had hurt Bruce so badly that he would rather hide it away than breathe even a word of its existence.

Until now. Until Bruce had no choice but to rip the wound open once more.

“Bruce. I—what’s going on?”

“Perhaps,” Alfred interjected. “Perhaps it may be best to take this to the cave. Such a story should be told once.”

Bruce laughed, a broken, shuddering thing. “What is there to tell? I was naive with a heart too open and full of longing. I let myself hope, and I let myself get crushed . I picked myself up, moved on, end of story.”

Alfred raised an imperious brow. “As you are the one who always insisted on detailed reports, I do hope your summary to the boys downstairs would have a little more detail.” His face softened as he placed a comforting hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “What recent information that has been passed to us paints a worrisome picture, given what little you have shared, but know that this time you are not alone to deal with this matter. Regardless of what you do, the rest of the family is involved by proxy."

Bruce seemed to release some of the tension in his shoulders at that. “Yes. Of course. Dick, why don’t you see if Tim is back yet. I don’t want to explain this more than once, if possible. I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

“Yeah. Yeah, sure, I’ll get right on that.”

“And, Dick?”

“Yeah?”

Bruce’s gaze was intense. “How is Damian doing?”

He remembered the way Damian sunk deeper into the chair, hands clasping and unclasping at air. The white of his cast hanging limply as Damian’s legs could just barely brush against the cave floor. Dick swallowed a lump in his throat. “I don’t know. But I do know that he could really use his father right about now.”

Bruce gave a shaky nod and Dick left.

_______

Everyone has heard this tale before.

His boys have learned about the birth of Batman, of how a boy lost his parents in an alley at the age of eight. How at 14 he took to the study of criminology to an almost religious fervor. He took and aced every AP test, graduated high school at 16, headed off to get a college degree, then disappeared off the face of the earth.

Batman may have been born kneeling in the shadows of a dirty alley, but it was on the streets abroad where Batman grew up. Learning and studying and fighting until he knew what made the criminal underworld tick, how to escape almost every type of restraints, how to solve a murder with only the smallest of clues. He trained under a demon and met his daughter. When their ideas of justice clashed with each other, he tried to leave, they tried to stop him, and he set their base on ablaze.

He returned to Gotham the prodigal son, the favored prince, the charming socialite. Bruce Wayne took his place at the center of Gotham’s solar system, shining and bright and unbelievably foolish. Batman put on a cowl and learned the shadows of Gotham’s streets, and built himself up to be a symbol of fear and justice. Soon, he acquired a Robin to temper that darkness. To bring a light of hope, to instill a sense of peace— something more than vengeance and the night.

The rest is history.

Here is the part of the story that Bruce had omitted:

Early in his career as Batman, a man named Quayin had plans to steal a weather modifying US satellite. This, and certain other events, led to Bruce and Ra’s al Ghul crossing paths—and working on the same side. The details of that mission, in the long run. do not matter. Not anymore. What’s important is that accompanying him is his daughter, Talia al Ghul. She was as deadly as she was beautiful—and Talia was very, very beautiful.

It was a whirlwind romance. A storm of passion. Gotham’s Bruce Wayne and socialite Miranda Tate. * Batman and the Daughter of the Demon. The tempest reached its peak on that fateful day in the gardens of Wayne Manor. The hot summer sun and buzzing insects fading away as she pulled him aside and said “Beloved, I am with child. I am pregnant.” **

Bruce was caught unawares by the news. Stared dumbfounded at her until his brain caught up with his ears and he felt such unbridled joy bubbling in his chest. He laughed, clear and bright. He held her tight against him as if she held the world in her hands—because she did . Talia held his world within her and Bruce vowed to protect it with every fiber of his being. He called Alfred immediately to tell him the news and started arranging for discreet interior decorators and shipments for everything they needed for a nursery.

Thomas, for a boy. Martha for a girl. He swore that very day that it would be the happiest baby in the world. **

And then—

And then…

As Ra’s and Bruce planned their next move to stop Quayin from initiating a war between America and the USSR, Talia collapsed.

Talia collapsed and the baby was just…

Gone.

And suddenly Talia wanted nothing to do with him. Told Bruce to leave her alone, that their relationship would never be the same.

His child was gone .

By the time the rogue satellite was recovered, Quayin defeated, and all loose ends tied up, the nursery was fully furnished. Bruce took one look at it and then turned away. Locked the door and hid the key god-knows-where.

His child was gone.

Batman continued to work.

There was no use for an empty nursery.

--------

End Notes:

The story I'm using for the circumstances surrounding Danny's birth is basically a modified version of what happens in Batman: Son of the Demon. Modified so that people knew that Bruce Wayne and Miranda Tate were a couple and to give enough time for a nursery to be built along with the rest of the events of that comic.

*Miranda Tate is the name Tahlia al Ghul went by in 'The Dark Knight Rises'

**These lines are taken from Batman: Son of the Demon

#danny phantom #batman #danny phantom x batman crossover #dp fic #phantom children.txt

38 notes · View notes

ava-candide · 3 years

Text

Poldark’s Aidan Turner on playing Leonardo da Vinci

The newly married heart-throb actor learnt to paint left-handed for his new role, and he’s still daubing now, he tells Ed Potton

Aidan Turner takes on the role of Renaissance polymath Leonardo

I’m trying to work out where Aidan Turner is Zooming from. Is it London, where he moved to in 2017 after his Ross Poldark became the drooled-over king of Sunday-night television? Dublin, where he grew up, trained as an actor and returned to spend the first lockdown with his parents? Or Rome, where he shot his new series, Leonardo, in which he plays a young Leonardo da Vinci?

“None of the above!” Turner says. “I’m in Toronto.” The enigmatic charm, feline eyes and gleaming locks that he deployed so mercilessly in Poldark, The Hobbit films and Being Human are all there. “My missus is working here,” he explains, and so is he. That’s the American actress Caitlin FitzGerald, his partner of three years, whom he met when they starred in the 2018 film The Man Who Killed Hitler and Then the Bigfoot. At first I assume the “missus” is laddish affectation but it turns out that it’s official: Turner and FitzGerald, both 37, got married in secret in Italy in August after filming finished on Leonardo. You can almost hear the sighs of disappointment ripple around the world.

Turner won’t say any more — he is famously guarded about his personal life — but he looks insanely happy in the couple’s rented apartment. FitzGerald — whose grandfather Desmond was a CIA agent and organised several plots to assassinate Fidel Castro — is shooting a series, Station Eleven, in Toronto while her husband works on another project that he’s not allowed to talk about. In their downtime they’ve been watching I’ll Be Gone in the Dark, an HBO documentary series about the Golden State Killer, and, on a lighter note, Ottolenghi and the Cakes of Versailles. They share the apartment with Charlie, an ebullient Norfolk terrier that Turner has to eject from the room halfway through our interview when he starts yapping. “I’m surprised he behaved for so long,” he says

Eight-part series Leonardo has been criticised for warping history

Like many of his fellow thesps, Turner has been doing a great deal of lockdown painting. “We have a roof garden here and the light has been really good,” he says. “I probably shouldn’t be saying this because I don’t know if the landlord knows. It’s not messy work anyway!” Unlike some of his peers — I’m looking at you, Pierce Brosnan — he has yet to unleash his daubings on the world. How would he describe his style? “I struggle to say abstract, but I haven’t quite figured out what it is yet.” Did it help with playing Leonardo? “I don’t know. If you saw my paintings, you’d assume very much not,” Turner says. He has a studied line in self-effacement, honed after years of “sexiest man on TV” questions.

Leonardo premiered in Italy last month and was watched by seven million, many of them doubtless keen to see Turner brooding in a succession of smocks. The eight-part series has been criticised for warping history, having the artist accused of murder and featuring an apparently fictional muse, Caterina da Cremona, played by Matilda De Angelis from The Undoing. Luca Bernabei, the chief executive of Lux Vide who produced the series, defended it stoutly. “Matilda De Angelis’s character did exist. She was a model Leonardo asked to paint,” he said. “We have been really careful in our research. But this is not a documentary, we are not historians and this is not a university history lecture.”

And if the history pedants are spluttering, the art pedants should be happier — the series goes to considerable lengths to make the painting look authentic. Each episode is themed around a different masterpiece, from the portrait of Ginevra de’ Benci to The Last Supper to the Mona Lisa, and the candlelit cinematography is often sumptuous. Turner’s research included a private view of a Leonardo exhibition. “I spent some time alone with the actual paintings, which was brilliant,” he says. “They’re just like high-definition photographs. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that a human had done this.”

Aidan Turner attended an artist’s boot camp before filming started

The series opens in Florence in the 1460s, with Leonardo a pupil of Verrocchio, played by the veteran Italian actor Giancarlo Giannini. Before the shoot Turner and his co-stars went on an artists’ boot camp (brush camp?) supervised by professionals. He says the hardest part was learning to paint, as Leonardo did, with his left hand. He compares it to learning to ride a horse for Poldark, which he pretended he knew how to do before going on a crash course when he got the part.

Brushwork was the same, he says. “I realised I had to get good quite quickly and look like I knew what I was doing with my left hand, which is more difficult than you would think. It’s keeping it steady — you find it just moves around a lot. Leonardo was very slow and precise — I think I got it down. After a few weeks you start picking up the brush with your left hand, it becomes natural.”

Leonardo was a vegetarian, Turner tells me, “and apparently later in life opened some sort of vegetarian restaurant”. He was also gay, something that, despite reports, the series does not shy away from. Was this Turner’s first time kissing a man on screen? He laughs. “Of all the things I was expecting you to ask next, that wasn’t one of them! In a lot of ways it was just another love scene. The fact that the gender was different — that was never a thing. No, it felt right. It didn’t feel any different at all. But yeah, to answer your question, that was the first time, which I’d never really thought of until now.”

What did feel weird, he says, were the Covid protocols. “Suddenly people are wearing masks and shields and hazmat suits. We had a big sanitisation machine as we walked in that would spray us. You take off the mask when you shoot the scene and it’s a bit strange for a second. Then you realise it’s the first time you’ve seen your co-star’s face that day. It’s not conducive to a very creative environment, for sure. But we made it work and nobody got sick.”

Turner spends a chunk of the first episode painting De Angelis, and both actors know what it’s like to be ogled. She has been asked endlessly about her naked locker-room sequence in The Undoing, just as he has been reminded of his shirtless scything scene in Poldark. Before that there was his lusted-after vampire in Being Human and his sexy dwarf in The Hobbit — branded a “dwilf” in some quarters — although that “definitely wasn’t the intention”, he says. “I think I just had less prosthetics on my face. My make-up call was 20 minutes and everyone else was sitting in the chair in the morning for three and a half hours. It wasn’t good to be around the other dwarfs in the mornings, that’s for sure.

“I get why people are interested,” he says of the ogling. “It’s just when it keeps coming up.”

We move on. According to a recent survey Cornwall has overtaken London as the most desirable place to live in Britain. Does he think Poldark played a part in that? He laughs. “Maybe we nudged a few people in the right direction. I think people forgot how beautiful that side of the world is. One of the first reviews of Poldark we read was like: ‘We can’t believe that this is our country, it looks like the south of France.’”

Could Poldark return, and would Turner be in it? If they stuck to the chronology of Winston Graham’s books they would have to leap ahead a few years. Maybe he could play an aged-up Ross Poldark in latex and fake paunch? “I don’t know if I’d be keen on the ageing-up thing,” he says. “It never really works. I don’t know whether they need to be too strict with that gap anyway. There’s the possibility someday, maybe. I enjoyed working with everybody on Poldark, from the writers right down to all the cast and crew. It really is like a family. So I’d be open to chat about it. But not for a while.”

Before that he will appear as the apostle Andrew in The Last Planet, the forthcoming biblical epic from Terrence Malick, revered creator of The Thin Red Line and The Tree of Life. Well, he doesn’t know for sure if he will appear. Actors of the calibre of Rachel Weisz, Mickey Rourke and Jessica Chastain have seen their performances in Malick films vanish during editing.

“You want what’s best for the film. And if you don’t fit into it, you don’t fit into it,” Turner says in the tone of hair-shirt devotion that actors tend to use when talking about Malick. With a cast including Ben Kingsley and Mark Rylance as Satan, the movie is meant to tell the story of Jesus through a series of parables. Turner doesn’t really have a clue, though.

“You don’t necessarily know what you’re signing up to. You’re signing up to Terrence Malick,” he says. The director has “a great way of working. Everything is around ‘where is the sun’ at this particular time. That’s our natural light and it’s all we use. So things happen fast. There’s no trailers, hair, make-up, we’re just all together. You don’t know from day to day what you’ll be doing. It’s quite renegade stuff. That’s the way I always wanted to work.”

It’s closer to the immediacy of the theatre, which is where Turner started out. The son of an electrician, Pearse, and an accountant, Eileen, he represented Ireland at ballroom dancing before falling into acting. After studying at the Gaiety School of Acting in Dublin he acted in plays for five years and in 2018 he returned to the stage to rave reviews in Martin McDonagh’s The Lieutenant of Inishmore in the West End. Rave being the operative word — his performance was bracingly unhinged. “I can’t wait to get back to the theatre,” he says. “That’s what we’re looking at probably next.”

Turner’s character in The Lieutenant of Inishmore was an Irish freedom fighter, but he is reluctant to talk about the prospect of Irish reunification (“So I don’t get shot when I get home,” he told one interviewer). Culture is safer ground, and his native country is going through a purple patch with Sally Rooney in literature, Fontaines DC in music and the likes of McDonagh, Jessie Buckley and Denise Gough in drama. “It tends to happen in waves,” Turner says. “Coming out of drama school, Colin Farrell was such a big thing. When these actors really make it you can feel some of their light begin to shine on the industry back home.”

Like Farrell, Turner is an international star, although it has mainly been in period roles: Poldark, Leonardo, Andrew and his breakout turn as the 19th-century poet Dante Gabriel Rossetti in the 2009 series Desperate Romantics. It must be something about the hair.

That could be about to change, though. Toronto often stands in for New York, which suggests that his current mystery project has a contemporary setting. Does he yearn to act in jeans? “Yeah, you’re right,” he says with a laugh. “After Leonardo, I think tights and knee-length boots are out for a while.” Many would beg him to reconsider.

#aidanpics

68 notes · View notes

cocastyle · 4 years

Text

Robin — THREE

Pairing - Joel Dawson x reader

Word Count - 4,800

A/N - another update for you all! I just wanted to thank everyone for the feedback I have received on this series already! I love seeing people get excited for my writing snd it literally makes my day!

if you would like to be added to the tag list, let me know!

R O B I N

Robin Series Masterlist

⭒❃.✮:▹ THREE ◃:✮.❃⭒

There was something different about letting her feet hit the soil under the circumstances she was currently in. Y/N was used to coming out every once and a while with the hunting team, but this. . .this was different. She wasn't about to stay near by and hurry back to the bunker before the hour was up. No, she was free. She could go wherever she wanted. She could go beyond the 'walls' that the hunting team had established.

And there was no better feeling than knowing all of that.

Y/N looked around with a soft smile playing at her features, closing her eyes for a moment to soak in the sunlight before opening them again and letting out a sigh of content. She turned to Joel after that, her smile only growing at the sight of the boy taking in his surroundings.

The girl had almost forgotten that her best friend hadn't stepped foot on the surface in seven years. Joel looked around as if he couldn't believe he was actually outside and Y/N chuckled softly as she watched him inhale deeply through his nose, his face all scrunched up in a way that she could only find adorable.

Joel's eyes shot open at her laughter, playfully glaring at the girl who just smiled before gesturing towards the map in his hands. "Where to, boss?" Y/N asked.

Joel stared at her for a moment, smiling softly at the way her eyes were squinted in his direction, her hand attempting to shadow her eyes from the sun. The boy cleared his throat and looked away, his hands fumbling with the map which he quickly opened.

Y/N walked over to his side, her arm resting against his shoulder while the two both looked at the paper with looks of concentration. "Where are we?" Joel muttered, his eyes flickering over the map confused. "Well, it's not super useful."

"Don't say that. Look right there. It says avoid that area because our lives depend on it. That's useful," Y/N tried to argue. "Besides, it's the best we could do with such little time since someone decided within a span of five minutes he was leaving the bunker for the first time in seven years."

Joel shot her a look and the girl just winked at him. Letting out a small sigh, Joel began to fold up the map before saying, "You've gone on hunting trips before. Which way should we go?"

Y/N was silent for a moment as she looked around, her finger gently tapping against her lips while she surveyed the area. Finally, she looked to Joel, the boy responding with a smile for they were finally going to start on their journey. However, it quickly disappeared as she said, "I have no clue."

"What? Robin," Joel complained.

"Joel," Y/N mimicked while the boy sighed and scratched his head.

"How do you not know? You've been out here plenty of times," Joel pointed out.

"Yeah, but Connor was always the one with the compass," Y/N explained, her voice softening a bit at the mention of her friend before she hardened and looked up at the boy. "And seeing as that compass is in a decapitated monster's stomach, I don't think I'm going to be very useful."

Joel sighed before looking around again, nervously biting his lip as he tried to decide which way was the best to go. "Okay, well, you know what? We know we gotta head west, right? Well, let's just. . .do that," Joel muttered.

"Wow. I never would've thought of that one," Y/N snorted earning a small glare from the boy.

"I could really go for some non-sarcastic advice right about now," Joel told her while the girl chuckled. "Come on, Robin. Which way should we go?"

"I'm telling you, Joel, I have no idea. Just chose a direction and we'll go with that, okay? I'll follow you whenever you go," she assured him, her words making him still for a moment before he let out a shaky breath and looked around.

"Start with something easy," Joel muttered before finally gesturing one way. "West," he declared before beginning to walk that way, Y/N trotting along behind him.

However, they didn't go every far before Joel was turning on his feet, his hands grabbing ahold of Y/N’s shoulders to turn her around and push her back in the other direction. "Nope, it's this way," he said. "West is this way."

Once again, they didn't get far before Joel let out a sigh and came to a stop. Y/N stopped as well and looked to her best friend as he glanced around. "Shit," he muttered making the girl laugh. Joel glanced her way and the sight of her smile mixed with the sound of her laughter was enough to make him chuckle too.

"Shut up," Joel laughed, gently punching the girl's arm while she just smiled his way. His heart skipped a beat at the action and Joel had to look away, his smile not as bright but still gracing his face. "Split the difference," he finally decided as he gestured forward. "We'll go this way. Done. First decision made."

Y/N cracked her neck before hopping into place beside Joel. The boy looked to her in amusement and she just flashed him that smile of hers.

"Let's do this."

- - -

Dear Aimee,

I am doing it. I'm really doing it!

Honestly, I thought it'd be way worse too. So far, it's not too bad.

Robin makes it easy. She fills the silence with some stories of past hunting trips she's been on. Not really what I want to hear while walking through the very place that holds all the monsters she's talking about. But it's kind of impossible not to get lost in the way she tells a story. She just gets so excited and there's this sparkle in her eyes that makes you want to listen to her talk forever.

We've seen a lot of signs of death, but no actual death, so cross your fingers.

Trying to stay positive. Weather's nice. Getting some fresh air. Spending time with my best friend.

What else can I tell ya?

- - -

"You should've seen the look on Tim's face," Y/N told the boy, her body shaking with laughter as she flashed a smile Joel's way. "But how was I supposed to know that cutting off the monster's head would make bile shoot out of the hole and onto him?"

"Gross," Joel laughed, shaking his head at the girl who just chuckled at the memory. "That's why Tim came back one day and showered for like an hour."

"Yeah. And then everyone got mad at him because he was using so much water," Y/N said earning another round of laughter from the two as they walked through a bus graveyard they had stumbled upon a few minutes prior.

A comfortable silence fell among the two at that point, small smiles still on their faces as they walked through the tall grass and looked around. "Oh," Joel muttered, his arm shooting out and in front of the girl as he slowly backed away from one of the buses. "Watch out. Monster eggs."

Y/N looked at what he was talking about and grimaced before looking around them. "Where do you think the monsters that came out of those eggs went?" she questioned, continuing to glance around while Joel went behind her and began to push her forward.

"I don't really plan on sticking around to find out," Joel admitted, pushing the girl the rest of the way out of the bus graveyard before joining her by her side once again as they approached what seemed to be the remnants of an old neighborhood.

"I wonder what our houses look like now," Y/N muttered, her gaze on the house in front of them that was overrun with vines and other greenery. "You think our things are still there?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe," Joel said, but his gaze was on the ground where he could see something red sticking up off the grass. He bent down to pick the object up, a small smile appearing on his face as he wiped off the grass and realized that the object was a frisbee. "Cool," he muttered causing the girl to look his way. His eyes flickered over the faded lettering as he whispered, "Wham-O."

The words had no sooner left his mouth before the familiar screeching of a monster filled the air. Y/N reacted without hesitation, her hands flying up to grab her katanas which she had by her side within a second.

"No," Joel whispered, the disappointment of already running into a monster after not even a full day on the road almost as strong as his nerves. He subconsciously took a step closer to Y/N who was still holding her katanas up in the air, her eyes narrowed as she surveyed the area.

"We should find somewhere to take cover," Y/N finally said after realizing the monster wasn't as close as she had initially thought.

"Run and hide," Joel remembered, nodding his head slightly. He looked around for a moment before gesturing towards the house. "Hide in the house. Hide in the house."

Y/N stuffed her katanas back into their sheaths before grabbing ahold of Joel's hand. "Come on," she whispered, dragging the boy forward while he quickly stuffed the frisbee into his backpack.

They hurried to the house as quickly and as quietly as possible, only letting go of each other's hand once they reached the door that was wide open. Knowing there wasn't much room to work with the katanas inside, Y/N reached for her crossbow instead. Joel did the same and the two shared a look before slowly creeping inside.

Y/N moved towards the kitchen, her crossbow up as she looked around. Joel was behind her and she didn't pay attention to him until she heard him begin to open something up. Furrowing her eyebrows, she turned around in time to see him opening up a fridge.

A loud screech filled the air and Joel slammed the door shut before backing up as quick as possible, Y/N moving to his side with her crossbow aimed at the fridge. She momentarily glanced towards Joe who gave her a nervous smile before whispering, "I think the food's expired."

Y/N rolled her eyes at that, but her lips tugged up slightly in amusement before she slowly nudged the boy out of the kitchen. Once they were out, the two took off towards the back door and into the backyard.

They both hesitated in the middle of the yard while looking to the house to see if the monster had ended up following them. Luckily, it didn't seem to have left the fridge, so Y/N let out a small sigh of relief and returned her crossbow to the hook on her backpack.

"Pro tip about surviving monsters," Y/N began, glancing towards Joel who looked her way. "Never look in a place they could be hiding."

"But that was a refrigerator," Joel argued, his eyes wide.

"Especially refrigerators," Y/N retorted before turning and beginning to walk away. Joel stood there dumbfounded as she left, trying to process why refrigerators would be such a big hiding spot for monsters.

A bubbling sound seemed to snap the boy out of his thoughts and he furrowed his eyebrows before glancing to his left and at a small pond. He could see small bubbles rising from one area and he let out a shaky breath before whispering, "R-Robin?"

"Yes, Joel?" Y/N asked, turning to look back, but she froze at the sight of Joel staring at the pond where not one, not two, but three eyes had popped out of the water to stare at him.

The two were frozen in place as a monster began to emerge from the water. It looked as if it were the mutation of a frog, it's body similar to the amphibian, just larger, grosser and with more eyes.

"Joel," Y/N whispered, reaching up to grab her crossbow. "Back up."

The boy didn't respond, a look of stunned terror on his face as he slowly reached for his crossbow as well. His eyes were filled with tears as he looked at the monster, his throat constricting at the thought of this already being the end.

"Joel," Y/N insisted, but it was too late. The monster's tongue was already shooting towards the boy, but something flew across the air and knocked him out of the way just in time.

Y/N didn't have time to look at what jumped at Joel and reacted quickly, pulling her crossbow out as fast as she possibly could and firing at the monster without hesitation. The arrow managed to land in one of the monster's eyes and it let out a roar that made both Joel and Y/N’s eyes widen in response.

"I think you made it mad!" Joel yelled causing the girl to look his way for the first time. She faltered slightly at the sight of a dog standing atop his chest.

"Is that. . .a dog?" she questioned, her eyes wide with shock.

"Robin!" Joel exclaimed, his voice bringing her back to reality in time for her to dodge the tongue attack that was now being thrown in her direction. The dog ran towards the monster without hesitation, putting itself between Y/N and the creature as it barked.

Joel was on his feet in an instant and attempted to run towards the girl who was trying to pull herself up onto her feet after having the air knocked from her lungs. However, he didn't get far before he was thrown against the wall by a hit from the monster's tongue. He landed with a loud groan, but quickly sat up as he felt something grab ahold of his leg.

"No! No, no, no. No!" Joel cried out as he recognized the tongue of the monster which had wrapped around his ankle. He felt a small tug and began sliding across the ground, a yell escaping his lips as he began picking up speed. He was just about to reach the fallen tree in the yard when he felt a hand grab ahold of his own. Joel's eyes flew upward and he yelled out, "Y/N!"

Y/N had her jaw clenched in concentration, her hand holding on tightly to Joel's as she propped her feet against the tree trunk in order to keep them in place. They could hear the dog barking in the background, but it sounded muffled over the sound of their beating hearts and their own voices.

"Robin," Joel cried, his eyes filling with tears as he brought his other hand up to desperately latch onto hers.

"I gotcha," Y/N assured him. "You're okay." However, it seemed she spoke too soon because the edge of the trunk broke and Y/N suddenly fell forward, the two now sliding across the ground together but with some resistance since the girl was clawing at the ground.

She managed to hook her hand into a small hole in the ground and glanced back at Joel who was yelling in fear before she attempted to look around. Y/N’s eyes landed on the dog that was still barking at the creature and then she looked at the monster before letting out a sigh.

"Joel, you gotta trust me on this, okay?" Y/N asked, her words making the boy look up at her confused.

"Trust you on what?" he replied, but then she was letting go of his hand and Joel began screaming as he reached for the fallen tree.

Y/N rolled up onto her feet before pulling her katanas out of their sheaths. She ran past Joel who was still sliding across the ground towards the monster and ran at the monster at full speed.

The dog must've realized she was attacking because it ran to Joel and bit into the monster's tongue right as Y/N launched herself into the air and sliced the katanas across the monster's face. The monster roared in pain and anger, it's head thrashing to the side and hitting Y/N with so much force that she went flying towards the fence.

However, during the monster's pain and anger, it had managed to let go of Joel who scrambled to his feet. He ran over to Y/N and was quick to help her up, the girl wincing slightly and shoving her katanas back into their sheaths before shaking off the pain once she noticed the monster attempting to pull its way out of the water.

"We need to go!" Joel exclaimed, his arm wrapping around Y/N before the two ran through the hole in the fence and after the dog. They managed to make it through the hole moments before the monster went crashing through the fence and Joel held onto Y/N tighter as they ran, both of their breathing ragged as they followed the dog to who knows where.

"Wait. Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!" Joel yelled after the dog who continued to pick up his speed. "Where are you going?"

"He's not going to answer you!" Y/N yelled before watching as the dog ran into an old bus. "There!"

Joel followed her gaze and was quick to pull her that direction, his arm still wrapped around her waist all the way there before he shoved her through the door first and hurried in after her.

The dog closed the door right behind them and Joel looked at the dog impressed as he whispered, "Whoa. Whoa, that was so cool."

They could hear the faint sound of the monster growing further away and it was only when it was gone that they finally moved. Letting out a small sigh of relief, Y/N leaned back against Joel who wrapped an arm around her shoulders and let his head rest against her own.

"We're alive," he whispered.

"Barely," Y/N muttered, the two letting out shaky breaths as they attempted to slow their breathing down.

Once they had managed to calm down some, the two let go of each other and looked down at the dog. Furrowing her eyebrows, Y/N took a step forward and looked around. Inside the bus was a makeshift home of sorts, complete with a bed for both a person and the dog, clothes, some belongings, and numerous crafts lining the inside as if someone had spent the last seven years making nothing but decorations.

"Nice place," Joel commented, looking to the dog who was now laying on his bed. "Can we sit?" The dog glanced at him and Joel looked to Y/N who shrugged. The boy watched the dog hesitantly and made a move to sit down. When the animal didn't show any sign of disagreement, Joel fully sat down. "Thanks."

Y/N walked over as well, but she kneeled down in front of the dog who looked to her with big round eyes. "Hey there, buddy," she whispered, carefully holding her hand out. The dog looked to her hand and leaned forward, sniffing her fingers for a second before licking them. Smiling, Y/N reached forward and let her fingers brush through the dog's hair. "Thank you for saving us back there. Where did you come from, huh? You got a master coming back soon?"

"Robin," Joel whispered. The girl hummed in response and looked his way only to find the boy pointing towards some dishes that looked as if they hadn't been cleaned in a really long time. Y/N instantly put two and two together before looking back at the dog who was leaning into her touch as she scratched behind his ears.

"You all alone?" Joel asked, his eyes flickering over the dog before finally looking at Y/N who he couldn't help but smile at as he watched her interact with the animal.

The dog leaned back at Joel's words and Y/N sighed before standing up and sitting down beside Joel on the bed. "Yeah, us too. I mean, we have each other, but. . .you get what I mean," Joel explained while Y/N smiled softly and placed a hand on top of the boy's.

Joel smiled back and flipped his hand over in order to hold her hand and give it a small squeeze. Feeling content with the comfort his best friend provided him, Joel began to look around until his eyes landed on some graffiti on the bus that read 'Boy.'

"Boy?" he questioned, the name instantly making the dog sit up. Joel and Y/N both shared a look before Joel looked back to the dog. "Is that your name? Boy? Your name is Boy." The dog continued to look at him and Y/N smiled softly as she leaned against Joel.

"I'm Y/N," she said. "But this one right here calls me Robin."

"And I'm Joel," the boy spoke up. "But people call me Batman."

"They do not," Y/N snorted making the boy pout.

"No one calls you Robin," Joel tried to argue.

"You call me Robin," Y/N pointed out.

Knowing he was defeated, Joel looked back to Boy before nodding at the dog. "Nice to meet ya," he said. "Like Robin said earlier. . .thanks, uh. . .thanks for saving my life, Boy."

Boy lowered his head and Y/N just watched the dog with a small smile while Joel used his free hand to pick up a red dress that was lying on the makeshift bed. "Is this a dress?" he asked. However, the words had barely left his mouth before Boy was up and pulling the dress from his grasp.

"Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Sorry," Joel said as Boy ripped the dress away and laid back down on his bed with the dress next to him. "Okay, I won't touch it again."

Y/N let her eyes flicker over Boy, frowning slightly as she realized the dress must've belonged to his owner. Thinking the same thing, Joel asked, "Was that your owner's?"

Boy didn't move and Joel glanced towards Y/N. "It's okay," Joel assured the dog. "You don't have to talk about it. Sorry."

"Did you. . .did you think one of us was her?" Y/N asked, thinking back to the way the dog had grown so protective of them. Boy didn't look at them, but he didn't have to. Y/N was pretty sure he had thought one of them was his owner coming back to him.

"I'm gonna lie down too," Joel said, letting go of Y/N’s hand to pull his backpack off. "Is that o—" The dog looked his way and Joel slowed his actions down. "No, it's okay. Just my backpack." Boy laid back down and Joel let out a small sigh as he set the backpack down. However, he paused as he glanced towards Y/N and it registered in his head that there was only one bed.

"I forgot there's only one bed. Here, you take the bed," Joel told her, already beginning to get up. "I'll just lay on the ground."

Y/N rolled her eyes and reached up to grab the boy's wrist. Joel hesitated and looked back at her while she just gave him a small smile. "We've been best friends for years, Joel. Just shut up and lay down with me," she told him. "Don't worry. I won't bite."

Y/N then gave him a small wink and stood up to take off her backpack and katanas, not noticing the way Joel's cheeks reddened slightly. Although, he wasn't completely sure why that was happening either.

With the bed obviously only being made for one person, the two both had to lay on their side. Joel got on first and leaned all the way back against the far side before opening up his arms. Y/N got in next and laid beside him, the boy freezing as she laid down before he put his arm down at his side not daring to hold the girl like he found himself wanting to.

Y/N was glad Joel couldn't see her face for she was sure she had a slight frown on her face at the fact that he hadn't even wanted to hold her. However, her thoughts were pushed aside as she felt the boy gently nudge her before pointing towards the ceiling where they could see a stuffed dog and girl pinned up next to each other.

"You know," Joel said, glancing over at Boy, "I had a girl, too, once. I mean, I have Y/N, but I'm talking about a different girl. Think you would've really liked her. Yeah, you guys would totally get along. She—She loves dogs. I mean, all animals. She's a big animal lover."

Y/N closed her eyes as the boy began to ramble, especially thankful for not having to face the boy as she listened to him talk about Aimee. Usually she was able to ignore what he was saying, but something about being this close to him, close enough that she could feel his warmth and the way his breath fanned against her neck, and having to hear him talk about another girl was more painful than ever before.

"I haven't seen her in seven years," Joel muttered after a moment of silence. "Long time. That's why I'm trying to go find her. I haven't told anyone this, but I'm kinda nervous about it."

Y/N opened her eyes at that, her face softening at the boy's words. It seemed Boy was touched by his words as well because he got up and plopped down right beside their bed, the dress still in his mouth. He closed his eyes and Y/N smiled softly before reaching down and petting the dog one more time.

"Goodnight, Boy," she whispered, Joel repeating her words while the dog let out a small whine before going to sleep.

A silence filled the room after that, but Y/N knew neither of them were able to sleep. She waited for a moment before whispering, "Are you actually nervous to see Aimee?"

Joel let out a soft sigh, his breath fanning the back of her neck before he whispered, "Yeah." He paused for a moment. "It's been seven years. What if she doesn't want to see me?"

Sighing, the girl turned around in the bed until she was facing Joel. Their faces were an inch or two apart and she noticed Joel's eyes widen slightly in surprise, but it quickly disappeared as he looked into her eyes and relaxed a bit.

Y/N’s eyes searched his own as she said, "Aimee would have to be crazy to not want to see you. You're one of the best people out there, Joel, and that was even before ninety five percent of the population was killed."

Joel smiled softly at that and looked down. "I don't know," he whispered, but the girl quickly shook her head before gently reaching out and forcing his chin up so he could look at her.

"You need to stop doubting yourself, Joel. You have such a big heart and are one of the kindest and funniest people I know. You're making one of the most romantic gestures just daring to take this journey to see her. If she doesn't want to see you, then there's something wrong with her. Trust me. All you need to do is stay calm. Everything will work out in the end," she assured him, smiling softly as she caressed his cheek once with her thumb.

Joel couldn't speak as he looked at her, his eyes flickering over her face for a moment as he tried to process all that she had just said. He couldn't help but notice the rapid beating of his heart. Seeing as it was feeling he had never experienced around the girl before, Joel pushed it aside as nothing but fear of a monster attacking while they slept. But still. . .there was something about the feeling that was familiar. He just couldn't put his finger on it.

Y/N was turning around before Joel could think anymore about it, nestling into the pillow as she closed her eyes. "Besides," she muttered, "your ass dragged me out of that bunker and I'm not about to let you have second thoughts or I'll kill you before any of these monsters can."

Joel chuckled softly at that, his whole body relaxing just because of the girl's presence. He stared at the back of her head for a moment, his eyes trailing down her form before he reached out and slowly let his arm wrap around her waist. Y/N responded by leaning backwards and into his chest while the boy pulled her closer to him and let his face nestle into the crook of her neck.

Y/N smiled softly as her eyes fluttered close once again, a sigh escaping her lips as she whispered out, "Goodnight, Joel."

"Goodnight, Robin."

- - -

Tag List

@simplybarnes @spideysimpossiblegirl @bookdorkfangirl @katemusic @eternallyvenus @juliebean247 @trustfundparker @blahhhhhhhaaa @used-avocado @havingagooddream @blogforhoes @weirdowithnobeardo @there-goes-my-sanity @cas-loves-pizza @ezgithechaotic

#love and monsters #aimee #clyde #dylan o'brien #dylan o’brien x reader #joel dawson #joel dawson imagine #joel dawson x reader #love #and #monsters #minnow #apocalypse

222 notes · View notes

teapartypenguin · 3 years

Text

So I’ve been thinking about the latest ep of WEP all day and after stewing over it for a bit, I’d like to give my theory on what the end of this episode really meant and why I think Koito died.

Spoilers for episode 6 coming up. Also TW for mentions of suicide, bullying, csa, and abuse. Tldr at bottom.

Since pretty early in the show, it’s been theorized that Sawaki was grooming/in a relationship with Koito, which eventually led to her death, and that he was going after Ai’s mom to get to Ai. I was pretty sure that’s where the story was going, there had been several other Wonder Killers based off men who preyed on young girls as well. That was until Rika threw out the theory herself, saying exactly what the audience had figured what was happening.

This is mostly going off of patterns I’ve seen in a lot of fiction, but you’d expect the show to drag out that mystery a while longer, giving more and more clues on what happened to Koito, leading up to the reveal of the teacher being a predator. But if Rika’s stating that out right now, it’s probably something different. Why reveal the big mystery so early in such a way?

Neiru brings up Occam’s Razor, the idea that the simplest solution is right. Right now, Momo and Rika has respectively taken up the optimistic and pessimistic sides on the true nature of Sawaki, based on their own personal experiences. Momo thinks he had nothing to do with Koito’s suicide because he’s her uncle and she’s always known him as a good person. While Rika takes up the cynical side that he’s a predator because of her overall mistrust of adults (her parents clearly have issues and she’s been in the idol industry since she was young, there isn’t an adult in her life that isn’t trash). And Neiru concludes that Ai must be in love with Sawaki, which is why she’s so upset. All people involved come to their own conclusions to solve the mystery without thinking about how Ai feels on the situation. She insists that she doesn’t love Sawaki, but is on the fence about whether he’s a good person or not.

That brings us to this episode’s egg girl, Yae, who saw things no one else could see, but no one believed her and put her in a mental institution to come to a solution themselves. When Ai defeats the Wonder Villain, she shouts once again that she’s not in love with Sawaki and validates Yae’s experiences, allowing her to disappear peacefully.

You can take the ending where she rushes to school to tell Sawaki that she’s returning in a couple ways. I took it as she’s rejecting Occam’s razor: there is no simple answer. Ai’s not in love with Sawaki like Neiru suggests, but she does appreciate his attempts to help her gain confidence (shown by her brushing the hair out of her eyes) and wants to trust him. And she’s returning to school to find her own conclusions on what happened to Koito and what Sawaki’s involvement in her death was because it’s something only she can see through. And the answer is probably a lot more complicated than Momo and Rika have suggested. I think he definitely did play a part in her suicide, but not in the way the audience is currently thinking.

And now onto my own crackpot theory on why Koito committed suicide.

We know that Koito and Sawaki had a relationship that most likely crossed a line on the appropriate teacher/student relationship, but I don’t think it was in a romantic/sexual way like we’re led to believe. And I think the answer to what type of relationship Koito and Sawaki had can be deduced by looking at Koito and Ai’s relationship.

When Koito transferred, the first thing she did was befriend the quiet, bullied girl with zero self-confidence. We can assume that Koito was a very kind girl who wanted to help others in any way she could. But when Koito was bullied, Ai couldn’t give the same support back. Koito then became very close to Sawaki, and I think the relationship was very similar in nature. We know that Sawaki is a struggling artist, it’s possible that he unloaded many of his own issues regarding that and other things on Koito, and they became close because of Koito’s desire to help him. Yet, like Ai, he was unable to give that same support back when she needed help. It’s not uncommon for adults to use kids in their life as a living emotional crutch, making them responsible for their mental health.

I think something like this can especially happen in Japan where receiving real mental health services is frowned upon, and men are held to an even higher standard of not showing their emotions than in the west. Sawaki always keeps a pleasant smile that doesn’t show what he’s truly thinking, which is exactly why the audience finds him so unnerving and is quick to assume the worst. We don’t know much about Koito’s home life, but if the theory is true, there could’ve been another adult in her life who first used Koito as their personal therapist, leading to her developing a savior complex. Which is how her relationships with Ai and Sawaki developed.

A relationship like this between and adult and a minor is definitely still a form of abuse. It’s good to be there for others, but not at the expense of your own mental health. And children should never be held responsible for an adult’s (or even another child’s) mental well-being. The pressure of having several people relying on her for support, without being able to receive any for herself, likely wore Koito down, leading to her own mental health declining until her death. In this way, Sawaki is still culpable in her death, but not in the way we think, and certainly not the only factor.

I don’t think Ai’s a bad friend for this, nor is she responsible for Koito’s death if this theory is true. She wasn’t exactly in the best place to support Koito either, and Koito kept most of her feelings to herself, so Ai couldn’t have known just how bad it was getting for her. It’s likely Koito learned to not show how she truly feels and put on a brave front because her family doesn’t let her be the emotional one, and this was reinforced because Ai and Sawaki couldn’t do anything about her bullying.

This is really only based on small snippets, and there are a thousand other ways that Sawaki could be involved in sort of a “middle-ground” way between Momo and Rika’s suggestions. He’s not a predator, but he’s still emotionally abusive and needs to take responsibility for his own mental health.Still bad, but a little more forgivable depending on your own opinions and experiences. We’ll see more in how he treats Ai’s mom in their relationship going forward. I think it’ll either be something like this or straight up exactly what Rika and everyone else theorized.

Tldr; Sawaki’s true nature isn’t as simple as Momo and Rika believe. Koito’s suicide was due to her declining mental health after being an emotional support crutch for Ai, Sawaki, and possibly other adults in her life. I could be proven very wrong on anything theorized next week for all I know.

#wonder egg priority #wep #tw: abuse #tw: bullying #wonder egg priority spoilers #long post #tw: suicide

78 notes · View notes

officialleehadan · 3 years

Text

Beneath Bahamian Waters

Eione couldn’t help but enjoy the feeling of water all around her, cradling her as she swam. It had been a hot day, and it had been hard to stay in the boat. The sun had beaten down, especially when she so badly wanted to feel the sea on her skin.

She barely fluttered her tail to move through the water. There was no reason to hurry. Eione rarely hunted around Anita’s house and she knew where the shellfish would be.

The reef here was bright with coral.

Everywhere she looked there were schools of fish, and on another day she might have stopped to chase them.

They were too small and had too many bones to be worth the trouble of hunting, but it was fun to catch them. When she held them cupped in her hands, they would flutter like butterflies until she let them go again.

Not today, though. Today she had dinner to find and the promise of Anita’s chowder was enough to keep her from getting distracted. Anita had bribed many people with that chowder over the years. Eione was one of them.

“Eione?”

Unlike Eione, Calliope’s scales shimmered delicate pink and yellow with blazing red that flowed down from her hips to form her fins. She was showy and she knew it. Eione teased her about it from time to time.

“I heard you saved another human,” she commented, bright blonde hair fluttering around her face and down her back. “How did that one go?”

“I did,” Eione said, one eye out for the lobsters Anita had requested. “A diver who got lost in the caves.”

Calliope rolled her eyes playfully and twisted in the water to rest on her back.

“They’re always going into deep water and forgetting they’re not made for it,” she mused. “Was he cute? The last two weren’t, but you never know.”

Eione glared at her and batted at Calliope with her tail.

“Why does it matter?” she grumbled. She did not want to admit that yes, her newest rescue was very handsome. Calliope would never let her hear the end of it. “He was past half to dead when I found him.”

“It matters,” the blonde mermaid said cheerfully and flared her tail out to duck Eione’s swipe. “Especially if you had to kiss him. Did you have to kiss him?”

“Yes, Calliope. I kissed him. He would have drowned otherwise.”

“Ooh! Then it really matters. Come on, cousin. I can tell when you’re hiding something from me.”

“You don’t always notice when a grouper swims past your nose. You can’t fool me. What are you doing on this side of the island anyway? I usually have to come over to the west side if I want to see you.”

Calliope idly flipped her tail to keep up with Eione. “Jeremy wanted to visit Thomas. I rode in with him,” she explained.

“Just decided to come visit?” Eione asked absently as she ducked around another reef, briefly ignoring her cousin to prod under the coral shelf until a lobster darted out. She grabbed it, careful of the spines, and measured it with the little ruler she kept in her belt before she added it to her bag. “Why? You hate this side of the island.”

“I needed to talk to you, too,” Calliope answered. She was serious for a moment and Eione paid more attention to her. It was rare for Calliope to be serious about anything. “The shoal went south today. They’ve headed out with the ship that left yesterday.”

The cruise lines were highways for mermaids. The immense ships were easy to hold on to and it was far less effort to catch a ride with a ship than it was to make the long trip to California on their own power. Under the cover of the hull of a cruise ship, a whole shoal of mermaids could sneak through the Panama Canal and into the safer waters of the Pacific for the summer.

“You decided not to go this year?” Eione asked, surprised.

There were a handful of mermaids who stayed during storm season, but Calliope usually went with the rest. Eione was bemused when the older mermaid blushed and looked away.

“Jeremy asked me to stay,” she admitted shyly.

“I’m not surprised he did. I’m happy for you; I know how you feel about him.”

Calliope shifted uncomfortably, fins drifting in the clear water. “He wants me to stay with him when a storm comes in,” she blurted out. “And I need you to teach me to walk. I don’t want him to be carrying me around whenever we’re on land.”

That actually did startle Eione, but she nodded. She had forgotten that of the shoal, only she was on land often enough to be comfortable on legs.

Even though Calliope had been in love with Jeremy for almost two years, she spent hardly any time out of water, and then only in a boat or on the beach where she didn’t need to walk. That she wanted to learn now was telling.

“Of course I’ll teach you.”

HGE - Riptide

Evan Ross survived what no one before him ever has, and now he’s on the hunt for answers. His only clue is a single word that echoed through the water of a flooded cave.

Breathe.

Under Stone

White Sand Sky

The Hint of Answers

Drift to Home

Boats and Salt Wind

Eyes of the Ocean

Dinner Cruise (Free on Patreon!)

+++

More Stories!

+++

30 notes · View notes

captain-ross-poldark · 3 years

Text

Poldark’s Aidan Turner on playing Leonardo da Vinci

Ed Potton

Friday 2 April 2021

Aidan Turner takes on the role of Renaissance polymath LeonardoJUSTIN SUTCLIFFE/EYEVIN

Eight-part series Leonardo has been criticised for warping historyPA

Aidan Turner attended an artist’s boot camp before filming startedVITTORIA FENATI MORACE

With his wife, the American actress Caitlin FitzGeraldREX FEATURES

“I get why people are interested,” he says of the ogling. “It’s just when it keeps coming up.”

Turner with Eleanor Tomlinson in PoldarkMIKE HOGAN

Before that he will appear as the apostle Andrew in The Last Planet, the forthcoming biblical epic from Terrence Malick, revered creator ofThe Thin Red Line and The Tree of Life. Well, he doesn’t know for sure if he will appear. Actors of the calibre of Rachel Weisz, Mickey Rourke and Jessica Chastain have seen their performances in Malick films vanish during editing.

All episodes of Leonardo will be on Amazon from April 16

https://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/poldarks-aidan-turner-on-playing-leonardo-da-vinci-wnmqhxqxr

#Sunday times #aidan turner #Leonardo

52 notes · View notes

yungidreamer · 4 years

Text

Claimed

Summary: An intruder enters the territory of Chan and his pack, attacking people and causing havoc. Seemingly by chance he saves a victim that turns out to be his mate, but as fate would have it, he happens to be a wolf at the time. How will he protect her, come clean, and claim his mate?

Word count: 8.2k

Content warnings: slightly dark themes, a werewolf serial killer who is a vindictive asshole, impregnation kink, marking, minor descriptions of violence, sort of stalking, sort of possessive behavior. Some cursing.

Music: Come Out by Lenise Morales and War of Hearts by Ruelle

“Come on, boy,” she said, patting her leg and holding out the leash. “Let’s go on a walk before it gets too late.” Chan hopped up off his round dog bed near the couch, wagging his tail as he came to her. He sat patiently, turning his head to let her reach the leather collar she had put on his neck. Jesus, his pack mates would be in hysterics if they saw him like this, he thought to himself. But he could have endured the embarrassment for her.

How had he ended up like this? Really, it was a mix of destiny and bad luck on both of their parts. He honestly never thought he would meet his mate when he was in his wolf form and hurt on top of it. Fights weren’t something he got into that often and something he avoided when he could, but that night three months ago he had caught that piece of shit lone wolf stalking her.

Why the loner had picked her, he had no idea, but Chan had to be grateful in some ways. How long would it have been before he ran across her if not for that? Jesus, what if he had gotten there too late? He didn’t want to think about it.

That night he had been sent to track the interloper that had been causing havoc in their territory. He was the first of the pack to actually find him, which must have been luck since Minho was generally the best tracker and Changbin a close second. They had taken the two days before and barely missed catching him at the no-tell motel he had been staying at and at some restaurant where he had mauled some poor woman heading home after her shift. Changbin had been furious with himself for not tracking him fast enough and had been the one to find her bloodied and crying near the back door of the restaurant. He had shifted back to human and called 911, telling them he had been passing by when he heard her crying, a plausible enough story not to raise any suspicion. Besides as far as anyone involved knew, it was a rabid dog attack… a massive rabid dog.

Tracking was exhausting work and got shared amongst all the members of the pack. The third night had been his job and he had taken a neighborhood near the one he had been stalking, suspecting he had moved his hunting grounds but not that far. His hunch had been right, but it was pure luck that he had come across the scent of the intruder as he patrolled, just hoping to catch some hint, some clue.

That whiff had pulled him down an alley and into the strip mall parking lot of the craft store. For the life of him, he could not figure out why on earth he would pick this sort of place. The parking lot was half empty since most of the stores were already closed… except the big hobby shop. The sodium orange lights of the parking lot had flickered and buzzed, bothering his sensitive senses and it must have done the same for the lone wolf… so why on earth would he choose to hunt here.

Chan had spotted him, in human form, leaning casually on a planter half a dozen meters from the entrance to the store taking a drag on a hand rolled cigarette. He had let out an involuntary huffing sneeze, hating the smell as it drifted to him. That had given him away. Even if he hadn’t been able to sense that he was a fellow werewolf, no dog would have been wandering around alone in a parking lot here, like this, at this hour.

“I’m surprised you found me, rover,” the loner had chuckled, self-satisfied and amused. “I would have let you guys be, but you couldn’t just let me hunt a little.” Chan had growled as he watched him stand up, letting the shadows and flickering lights obscure his face as he pulled himself into a standing position. He had moved fast, charging at Chan and drawing a knife just before he got within an arm's length of him. Chan dodged but not fast enough, and the knife caught him in the ribs, grazing over a couple of them before he could dig his teeth into the man’s arm.

“Fuck,” the man yelled, punching Chan in the jaw to force him to let go. Stars sparkled in his vision and pain sliced through him as the knife slid along his collarbone and upper leg. He had gotten one last swipe in before retreating, leaving Chan bloodied and limping.

A safe place to shift was what he had needed, there surely would have been someplace nearby, a little alcove or alley between a couple of the shops, but before he could get very far, she had stepped out of the store, locking up and leaving for the night. Chan froze. He had been slinking away, slowly trying to get out of view, but was still very clearly in view when she had stepped out. His pain had blinded him to other sensations at first, but even before she turned and saw him, it hit him like a freight train.

Mine the sensation said with a ferocity he had never felt before. Why he had to find his mate like this, he had no idea. He wasn’t particularly unlucky. He didn’t spend tons of time as a wolf either. His pack was pretty chill and was pretty careful to stay below the radar. Their territory was safe and they were known for not being overly territorial, letting people pass through without a problem so long as they left and didn’t make problems. So how he ran across her while he was shifted and injured was just stupidly bad luck.

She had gasped when she finally turned around and saw him, but who wouldn’t when they turned around to see a massive dog behind them limping and bleeding. A moment’s fear had shot through her at the sight until Chan had whimpered, flattening himself on the pavement to look as unthreatening as possible.

“Hey puppy,” she said softly, putting out her hand for him to sniff as she leaned down, slowly coming closer. “Can I take a look at you?”

Yes please, he thought, rolling gently onto his uninjured side.

“What on earth happened to you… boy?” She asked, catching sight of his belly. “I don’t suppose you are going to make this easy on me and would just get in my car if I brought it around?” She sighed and patted his head. Rubbing his head into her hand, he rolled back over and pulled himself up to stand again. “Maybe you can just come with me, hmmm?” Standing up, she started to move towards her car, keeping an eye on him as he slowly limped behind her. She opened the back door to her car and patted the seat, inviting him to hop in, which he did quite happily. “Well at least that was easy.” She observed, closing the door behind him as he laid down on the back seat. “Now we just have to go spend my whole paycheck at the emergency vets.”

Sorry, he said to her in his head. I’ll pay you back when I can. Pain pulsed through him as the city lights swished over him in the back seat. The emergency vet clinic was only a half an hour away but that was way longer than he would have ever wanted to have to lay bleeding in the backseat of a car. In fact, he really was sure he could have gone his whole damn life without knowing what that felt like.

He was tough, he was the alpha of the group, though he didn’t enforce a hard hierarchy like some did. They were more family than anything else. They looked out for each other, did their part, contributed in any way that they could. It worked well for them and everyone was pretty happy with the arrangement. It was just his job to be the final voice when decisions needed to be made or to speak for the group when dealing with outsiders.

“Can you get up, pup?” She asked when she opened the door in the parking lot of the vet’s office. Chan nodded, though it probably didn’t look like it, what with being a dog and all, and stood up on slightly shaky limbs. Thank god they were close, he thought to himself as he stepped out the door and onto the pavement.

“I need some help please,” she said as they stepped through the automatic sliding door of the clinic.

“Oh my god,” the woman behind the counter said when she caught sight of him, picking up the phone on the desk and hitting a couple of buttons. “Doctor West we need you in reception now please, and bring whoever is back there to help.” She hung up the phone and dashed out from behind the desk. “What on earth happened?”

“I don’t know,” she said looking down at Chan as she kept a hand on his head. “I was just coming out of work and found him like this in the parking lot. Maybe he got cut getting out of a yard or went through a window or something?”

The receptionist had shrugged, it seemed like as good an explanation as any. They had taken him back, stitched him up and scanned him for an ID chip, which, shocker, he didn’t have. With no one else seemingly accountable for him, she had decided to take him home, saying she would try and find his owners. For now, she would pay for the vet bills and she just had to hope whoever owned him would pay her back. Though honestly, given the shape he was in, she wasn’t holding out hope there was someone, or at least someone responsible.

That was how he had ended up here and stuck in his canine form way more than he was used to. The one upside was that he was with her. She had spent a couple of weeks hanging up posters with his picture, but eventually just decided to adopt him herself, leaving him in the weirdest bind he could imagine.

The first few days he had stayed just because everything hurt too much to do anything else. I’ll change back soon, he told himself, I just need the stitches to heal a little first. Then one evening when she came home he could smell him and cigarettes on her and his heart had clenched. The loner had been there for her? For his mate? At that moment, that realization he had a feeling he never would have thought possible. Thank god I was the one that got stabbed. That had settled it. He had to be there, he had to stay and protect her, at least until the intruder was caught.

Not long after that he had shifted when she was off at work, finally getting in touch with his pack. After the understandable chewing out he let Jisung give him since he had basically disappeared without a word for DAYS, he explained what had happened and told him to pick someone to shadow her while she was out or at work. Jisung agreed, letting out a low whistle at the story and the news that he had found his mate. Chan left the details to him and the others, still not feeling even 50% if he had to be honest. He trusted them and for now, he was stuck.

Now it had been three months and the loner was still on the loose and still in their territory. They had no idea why and he had only attacked one person since that night. Now and again, when she came home from work, he would smell him on her, and still other times, he would catch the smell of the loner when they walked through the neighborhood. But it was never enough, never that fresh, and he had no idea how he was flitting around so close yet so far.

Jisung had the brilliant idea of getting one of them hired to work with her at the craft store. Chan had to admit, it had been a good idea, it kept someone close, but it probably wouldn’t have been the solution he would have wanted. Smelling Changbin on her every night when she came home from work rankled him an unbelievable amount, despite the fact that he knew nothing was happening with them. But between smelling his pack mate and the loner on her, and being unable to do anything with her aside from pretending to be her pet was going to drive him mad.

How on earth was he supposed to tell her who he really was? Buck also couldn’t just disappear. And yes, she had named him after the dog in Call of the Wild which was both adorable and painful. She was attached to him...just the wrong him. He needed to come clean but, aside from breaking to her that werewolves existed at all, something that would most likely freak her out, saying, surprise (!) you know that dog you’ve been letting sleep in your bed and changing in front of… well, he’s actually a guy. Because, you know, that would go over really well.

So that was how he ended up on the end of her leash, heading out for a walk. If he didn’t have to do this as a dog and have to make a show of going to the bathroom on these walks, he would be far happier. It was nice being out with her, he just wanted to be able to do it as a person, maybe holding her hand, though he might have tolerated a collar and leash if she really liked it for some reason.

Chan walked ahead of her, scenting the air as they made their evening loop of the neighborhood. All seemed well and normal for the most part, at least for the first half of the walk. But as they made the turn that would head them back towards home the scent of the loner drifted across their path. Chan stopped, causing her to bump into him and make a little sound of surprise as she accidentally stepped on one of his back feet.

“What’s the matter, Buck?” She asked, looking in the direction he was looking. “Did you see something?” Unsurprisingly, he didn’t answer and, after pausing for a few seconds, she moved past him, trying to snap him into moving again. Chan stepped in front of her, preventing her from going as he tried to place where the scent was coming from. “Come on, boy, I want to go home.”

I know, he said mentally, willing for her to understand him. Trust me, me too. Suddenly he saw it, the shape of another of his kind skulking on the other side of a cinder block wall. It’s dark chestnut fur moved slightly in the breeze as the animal stayed stock still. In a split second, it dashed back behind the wall and Chan gave chase. He pulled his leash out of her hand, sending a mental apology to her, and immediately gave chase. He couldn’t let this just keep going on. She called out his name, well the name she had given him, as he disappeared behind the wall, giving chase.

Quick as a flash, he saw the tail disappear around the back of the house on the other side of the block wall. He skidded around the corner, keeping the scent trail of the intruder under his nose. The chase led him through alleys and back yards as they ran and dodged. Finally he saw him disappear over a high fence and Chan lept after him, feeling like he was finally gaining on him.

When he landed he heard a snap and knew immediately that he had made a mistake. A sharp pain shot through his front leg. It had all been a plan, been a trap to get him here, to get him trapped… and to leave her alone. He had never really felt as stupid as he did right now. He finally gathered the will to look down at his leg to see it clasped in a leg hold trap, cut and bleeding, but thankfully not broken, probably by sheer luck. He couldn’t run like this and he had to get back to her.

With a gulp, he changed back, needing the dexterity of human hands to get out of the contraption. It pinched harder, stinging his nerves as his leg turned into an arm, thickening in the vice like grip. It took him a moment to stop seeing stars and then another to figure out how to press down the sides of the trap to open it. When he was finally free, he looked around. He had to get out but running around naked and bleeding was a great way to get the cops called on him.

Making his way to the edge of the neighboring yard, he looked over the wall to see laundry hanging on a line outside. He hopped over the wall and took a t-shirt and some pants, promising to try to remember to bring them back when he could. Once he was dressed, he ran. He ran towards where he had left her; ran like his life depended on it. Ran because hers probably did. His feet barely touched the ground as he rushed back to where he had left her.

Suddenly he heard a scream rend the air and he felt his whole body go cold. So stupid, he berated himself as he willed his body to move faster. Turning the corner a couple of blocks from where he had left her alone, he saw her… and him. The loner had cornered her against a fence in the front yard of some house, a hand around her throat and a knife pressed against her ribs. Without a second thought, Chan rushed forward with a guttural growl. The loner heard him and turned. Momentarily distracted from her, he didn’t notice when she jerked herself down, loosening his grip enough on her neck to fall in the direction opposite the knife he held on her. With his attention torn between two people now, Chan had the upper hand and wrestled him away from her.

“Run,” Chan commanded her as he tackled the loner to the ground. They rolled and grappled like gladiators, vying for dominance, both ignoring her. Something that turned out to be a mistake on the part of the loner. Just as he rolled on top, pinning Chan by gripping his injured arm, she rushed toward them, picking up the dropped knife and driving it into his back. The loner let out a rage filled scream and rolled away from them both as he changed back into his wolf form. Running away as quickly as he could manage and disappearing into the neighborhood.

“Are you okay,” Chan asked, getting up and grasping her upper arms. Her face was a mask of shock, eyes wide and not really seeing anything. “Look at me. Tell me that you are okay.”

“I have to find my dog,” she said, her eyes flashing around them, yet she didn’t pull away. “I think he tried to chase that thing away. He ran off and I need to make sure he’s okay… he was already hurt and…”

“I’m okay,” Chan said to her, giving her a little shake to get her attention. “I’m Buck. You found me in a parking lot and saved me. It’s me.” Her eyes snapped to his face and she went white. “I was following him that night, trying to figure why he was here. That’s how I got hurt, but that’s how I found you.”

“You were looking for me, too?” She shrank back, her eyes searching for something in his face.

“No, but,” Chan sighed. He needed to come clean but this wasn’t the place. Not in the open, not in someone else’s yard. “Let’s go home. Please. Can we talk there?”

“Home?” She asked, looking at him suspiciously.

“Your home,” he corrected. “Just, let me explain. Give me a chance.”

She looked down at the arms that were holding her, finally noticing his cut arm. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s not that bad,” he let go of her arms, trying to hide his injury a little.

“Let me take care of it,” she offered timidly. “Then we can talk.” Chan let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. With a nod he led them both back to the house, keeping a gentle hand on her wrist as they walked. He needed the assurance that she was there, that she was safe.

She followed, letting him take the lead, slightly unsettled by how well he knew the way to her house. Part of her still didn’t believe him. But then again, she had just seen a man change into a dog or… wolf maybe, and she couldn’t explain that. She had never seen him before and yet he knew her dog, he knew where she lived, he had saved her. She wasn’t 100% sure, but something told her to trust him.

When they got to her house, she let them in and Chan pulled her inside, locking the door behind them before tucking her behind him as he scanned the room and tested the air inside the house for anything amiss. When he was satisfied that it was safe, he stepped further into the living room and headed towards the bathroom to care for his arm. He really knows where everything is, she thought as she watched him head there without hesitation. Stepping up to the sink he started running warm water, dipping his arm under the spigot to rinse it. He hissed as the water hit the wound, a tingling pain shooting outwards from it.

“Here,” she stepped up beside him, dampening her hands and lathering them so she could gently wash his wound. Chan sucked in a breath between his teeth at the sting. “Sorry,” she said softly.

“No, it’s okay,” he assured her. “I appreciate you helping me. I owe you my life twice over now.”

“Seems like both times it was because of me anyway so…” she didn’t meet his eyes, focusing on what her hands were doing.

“It’s not your fault,” Chan soothed. “We should have gotten him out of here long ago. He just… he keeps slipping away.”

“So what are you?” She asked as she patted his skin dry with a towel.

“Werewolf,” he replied softly. “But I won’t hurt you.”

She nodded and pulled some gauze and tape out of the cabinet behind her. Kneeling down in front of him as he sat on the toilet, she spread some anti-infection cream over one of the wounds before putting gauze over it and taping it down. She did the same with the other side, then wrapped both with a sports wrap to keep it secure on his arm.

“What’s your name?” She asked, finally looking up at him.

“Chan,” he replied gently, reaching out to cup her cheek. “My name is Chan.”

“That fits better than Buck,” she gave him a nervous smile and laugh.

“God I love hearing my name on your lips,” he admitted. He leaned forward hesitantly, giving her a chance to pull away, taking her lips with a gentle firmness. She tasted like heaven, even better than he had dreamed those nights when he lay beside her in bed pretending to be her pet.

What am I doing, she asked herself, feeling a fuzzy, intoxication filling her brain as his lips pressed against hers. His tongue darted out against her bottom lip, begging her to open to him. Why did he taste so good, she wondered as she shivered under his touch. He was hardly the first guy she had kissed but he felt different and she didn’t understand it. She didn’t know him at all, despite the fact he seemed to have been living in her house for months.

“Love, I… I need,” Chan pulled back and stepped away from her. “We need to talk.”

“Sorry,” she leaned back, not meeting his eyes, wiping her lips to try and erase the distracting sensations.

“No, don’t apologize,” he soothed, reaching out to her. “I just need—” he broke off. “I need you to understand.”

“What do I need to understand?” she asked him, frustration coursing through her.

“You’re mine,” he said, taking her face in his hands. “I knew it the moment I saw you that you were supposed to be mine. I protect what’s mine. But I need you to choose me. I can wait. I can send someone else to stay here and protect you. Just… I need it to be your choice because once I have you. I’m not letting you go.”

She should have been afraid, she should have made him leave and run as far as she could as fast as she could. But something in her trusted him. No that wasn’t strong enough. Something said he was right, they were a part of each other.

“Okay,” she nodded as much as she could, still restricted by his hands on her face.

“What?” He asked, his eyes searching hers, trying to divine what she was saying.

“I understand,” Her hands came up to loosely grip his wrists, guiding his hands down from her face. She leaned forward, bringing her lips to his.

“Wait,” Chan took a step back, having to use all his willpower to do so. “You’re sure?” She nodded and his will broke. It had taken so much of him to pull away, to do the right thing. He hadn’t expected her to accept him and what he was. With a desperate hunger, he smashed his lips into hers as he lifted her and carried her to the bedroom. He already knew the place well enough he didn’t have to take his lips from hers as he took them both to her room. He tossed her onto the bed and crawled in over her, pressing her into the mattress with his body. He was pure muscle as he pressed himself against her, she could feel it even through the odd mismatched clothing he was still wearing.

“Chan,” she breathed when he shifted to kiss along her cheek.

“Say it again,” he groaned, grinding himself against her. “Say my name.”

“Chan,” her hand tangled in his hair, holding him close. He pulled back, only long enough to strip off the shirt and to slip the borrowed jeans off his hips. He covered her still clothed body with his, drawing her arms around his neck. She moaned underneath him, parting her thighs to let him settle between them.

“I think I’m a little overdressed,” she pointed out.

“I can fix that,” he grinned, rolling them both over. With hurried hands he pulled off her shirt and unhooked her bra before sliding it off her arms and tossing it across the room. His pupils widened as he took in her bare breasts. They looked soft and inviting and he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to cup them. She giggled and covered his hands with hers. Sliding backwards off him, she unfastened her jeans and stepped out of them.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Chan propped himself up on his elbows and took all of her in with his gaze. Her hands lifted to cover herself and he sat up, grabbing her wrists to stop her. “Don’t hide…” he blushed slightly as he admitted it, “You’re so beautiful.” He pulled her down to straddle him, running his hand over her waist and thighs.

She leaned down, bringing her lips to his as his hands wandered over her body. He had thought about this moment for months. Being so near her and having her not notice him, not see him had been killing him. So close, yet so far. Every night when she changed for bed, he had done his best not to stare as she stripped and put on her pajamas, only peeking a few times. Everytime she wrapped her arms around him and cuddled into his fur as she went to sleep. He had wanted to change, to confess, to throw himself on her.

Now he had her holding him as his human hands wandered over her soft curves and it was even better than he had dreamed. She smelled like heaven. Like the forest in summer and fields of wildflowers. He wanted to take her in every way possible. Kissing along the side of her neck, he buried his face in her shoulder, pressing her body against his tightly. He wanted to taste her, to feel her flesh in his mouth, to see if she tasted as sweet as she smelled.

He knew why. It wasn’t that he wanted to eat her. The bite would mark her as his to any other wolf that might cross her path. It would meld them together according to their customs and the rules of the pack. The mark would claim her as his alone and give her the protection of the pack.

Breathing deeply, he fought the urge. He needed to do this right. I’m not an animal, he reminded himself, rolling over and moving them both to the center of the bed. Her pleasure had to come first.

“Close your eyes,” he commanded softly. “I just want you to feel me.” She looked into his eyes for a second before nodding and closing her eyes as she laid on the bed beside him. Kissing her lips, he tasted her with a slow and lazy sense of leisure, reminding them both they had all night. He licked and nibbled at her lower lip, letting out an involuntary whine as he asked her to open to him. She parted her lips and let him in, still allowing him to set the pace, to guide her. His tongue thrust into her mouth with a hungry confidence. He devoured her like a sweet dessert, enjoying her taste with a slow deliberation. As he did, one hand played lightly over her chest and collarbone. His touch was as light a feather, teasing her with the contrast of sensations.

Leaving her lips, he slid himself down her body, dragging his lips and tongue over her neck to the center of her chest. He could hear her heart beating under her delicate rib cage, fluttering like a wounded bird. The sound stirred the animal inside him. Was she afraid? Her scent tickled his nose telling him that she was mostly aroused but underneath it was a faint sliver of fear. It wasn’t a fear of him, or at least not a real fear of him. It was the type of fear that makes a rollercoaster fun or that tickles your stomach when you stand near the precipice of a mountain and take in the wonder of the view. That frisson of a potential danger that was entirely unlikely, but not impossible. Looking up her body, he saw her bite her lip in anticipation of… something, of him.

He slid between her legs and moved lower on her body. He kissed and nipped at the flesh of her belly; so soft and vulnerable. The wolf in him loved that she trusted his teeth there. His wolf could have ripped that flesh with such ease and the fact that she trusted him like this made pleasure rippled through him. Moving lower, he settled himself between her thighs, lifting her legs to rest on his shoulders.

“Can I taste you?” He asked, nuzzling against her inner thigh.

“Yes,” she nodded, squeezing her eyes tightly as her hands fisted around the blanket beneath her.

“Show me what you like,” he instructed, licking a line up the slit of her body. “Let me know how to please you.” She nodded, her hands fidgeting with anticipation. “Baby girl, you can look at me now.”

Opening her eyes, she looked down the line of her body to see his hungry eyes fixed on her. Chan’s hand reached up to take hers as he held her hips down with the other, keeping eye contact as he made a testing thrust of his tongue into her. She gasped and squeezed his hand. Satisfaction settled in his chest and he threw himself into pleasing her as he read her body. He licked and nipped and sucked at her until she came apart underneath him with a strangled cry. She was beautiful and he had never felt as powerful as he did in that moment.

He needed to take her, to fill her with his seed until he was sure she would bare his child. An image of her, round with child, floated through his mind. Yes, the wolf inside him growled, take her. Chan slid up her body and positioned himself at her entrance as he pulled her into a kiss. She could taste herself on him as he stole her breath.

“Are you ready for me, baby girl?” He asked, brushing hair off her face.

“Yes,” she nodded, eyes hazy as she looked up at him. “Please, I want you in me.”

“I would give you anything you asked for,” He admitted, coaxing her thighs around his hips. “Have you… done this before?”

“Yeah,” she assured him. “Don’t worry.”

“Okay,” he nodded, a little relieved he wouldn’t have to hold back. Holding her face in his hands, he looked into her eyes as he curled his hips into hers with a slow deliberation. He watched as her face filled with wonder at the feel of his invasion. When he was finally seated fully inside her, he paused, taking a moment to enjoy the way her body stretched to accommodate him. It was like she was built to hold him.

“Can I move?” He asked softly, running the pad of his thumb over her cheek.

“God, yes, please,” she nodded, digging her nails into the skin and muscles of his back. Smiling down at her and keeping eye contact, he pulled himself half way out before thrusting back inside her. She sighed at the delicious friction. His body felt so good inside her, felt like it belonged, or perhaps that they were becoming a part of each other. Chan moved slowly, relishing this moment. She shivered, her hands grasping at his wide shoulders as he moved.

“Please,” she said again. “I need more.”

“Anything for you,” he soothed, placing a few kisses across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. He pulled his hips back and plunged inside her, going as deeply as he could. Setting a steady rhythm, Chan buried his face in her neck as he began to let go and lose himself in the feeling. She filled every sense of his. Her smell, her feel, and the taste of her skin under his lips. Even her pants and moans filled him as they teased his ears in the quiet of the room. Her limbs held him close, gripping him like he was the only thing keeping her from falling.

Pleasure rose inside him and he knew there was only so long he would last like this. He wanted to feel her come around him, feel her body milk him as she came beneath his touch again. Her heels hooked around the back of his thighs as she arched against him. The slight change in angle let him brush the sensitive spot inside her, making her quiver and gasp.

“Harder, there,” she begged, a desperation growing inside her.

“Are you close,” he questioned, his face tucked in against her neck.

“So close,” she whimpered, her nails raking his spine.

“Cum for me, baby girl,” Chan panted. “I need to hear you cum.” She whined and moved restlessly against him as the warm pleasure pooled in her stomach. He put his lips to the thrumming pulse of her throat.

“Chan,” her voice was barely a whisper when the knot of delight finally snapped inside her. As her body gripped him, he bit the flesh where her neck and shoulders met marking her as his. The shock of pain melded with her orgasm sending a cascade of sensations through her. With a final thrust he came inside her, filling her body with his emissions. He stayed like that until he felt her move restlessly beneath him and only then, reluctantly pulled out and moved to curl up beside her on the bed.

Her hand went to the bite on her neck. It still stung slightly but not nearly as much as she thought it should. Chan splayed a hand over her stomach, rubbing it in small circles.

“Are… are you okay,” he asked, looking at her lovingly as he laid beside her.

“Yes,” she nodded, taking her hand from her neck. “I didn’t expect you to bite me.”

“Just this once,” he promised, pulling himself closer to her. “It marks you as mine, gives you the protection of my pack. You’ll carry a little of my scent now.”

“Oh,” she blushed and looked at him. “Am I supposed to feel different? I don’t feel any different.”

“No,” he chuckled and smiled at her. “It’s something only my kind would notice.” She nodded and laced her fingers with his where they laid on her stomach.

“Did you do it so that he, whoever he is, would know?” She questioned. “Was this all just to, I don’t know, put him off?”

“No, although I would be happy if it did,” He gave her an adoring look. “This was because you were meant to be mine. Meant to be the mother of my babies; to be by my side for as long as we live.”

“So you want children,” she laughed.

“I want to see you filled with my child,” he admitted, his eyes going to where his hand lay on her. “I want to see it grow inside you. I want to raise it with you, watch it grow into someone as beautiful as you are.”

“Someday,” she nodded. “But I’ve been on birth control, so I don’t think we could just yet.”

“The bond,” he explained. “When I claimed you with my mark, it sort of…” he paused, searching for the right wording. “It opens you to me.”

“Oh,” she blinked at him a few times, trying to process what he was saying. “Even if we just… this one time?”

“Maybe,” he furrowed his brow slightly. “If you don’t want, at least not yet,” sitting up, he moved to help her walk to the bathroom. “We can try to clean you out, maybe prevent it.”

“No, it’s just a lot to adjust to,” she explained. “A lot has sort of happened since this morning.”

“I know, baby girl,” he laid down again and pulled her into a spooning position against him. “Let’s go to sleep for now and figure out the rest in the morning.”

Over the next few days neither of them left the house. She called in sick to work, not wanting to put either of them in danger by going out to a place he could so easily find and potentially corner her. Even with Changbin there, with so many people and such a big space, it would be possible to miss him, or at the very least, to not notice him until it was too late. Instead his pack mates came over to plan their next move. Chan spent most of his time planning with Minho and Changbin, setting patrol schedules and scout missions for everyone. Hyunjin was assigned the duty to investigate at the hotel and talk to the woman who had been mauled. Maybe it wasn’t a random coincidence that he had picked her, Felix had suggested after their second meeting. After all, if he was just looking to hurt people and just stir up trouble here, why target her? Sure it could have been a coincidence if he had just been foiled and chosen another target, but he hadn’t.

The suggestion had made Chan go cold. It made sense, but what had made him target her? There wasn’t something particularly special about her, except that she was his mate, but even he hadn’t known that yet. Was it possible the loner had some way of knowing even before Chan did? As far as they knew, it wasn’t possible to know but, still the thought lingered.

As the meeting was drawing to a close, Chan’s phone rang. Hyunjin was calling him from the hospital where he had gone to talk to the other victim.

“Chan?” There was a slight edge of panic to Hyunjin’s voice as he spoke.

“What’s the matter?” Chan asked the other boy, worried immediately by his tone.

“She’s… she’s my mate,” Hyunjin whispered into the phone.

“What?” Chan had a sudden sinking feeling in his chest. He stood up, needing to see his mate, to touch her and know that she was there and fine. He found her sitting at the table in the kitchen, snacking on something as she read.

“I’ve never met her before,” Hyunjin started to explain. “But I felt it the moment I walked into her room. She was just lying there, still sleeping, so hurt, and it just hit me. Her scent and just her presence; I know she’s mine.”

“How did he know?” Chan asked, pulling his own mate against him as he spoke.

“I don’t know, but this can’t be a coincidence,” Hyunjin insisted.

“I know,” Chan agreed.

“Look,” Hyunjin sighed. “I can’t leave her alone here. I have to stay for now.” Chan understood, letting him stay with the promise to send someone else to keep watch over her tomorrow so he could get some rest and come back to discuss what to do next.

“I hate this,” Chan said, as he sat at the cafe a block away from the craft store.

“We can hear everything that is happening,” Jisung assured him. “She’ll be fine, but we need him to come out.”

“I know,” He shifted in his seat. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

They spent the afternoon waiting, and waiting, and waiting. Over an open line, Chan, Jisung, Changbin and Jeongin listened as she went about her day like everything was fine and normal. She helped customers, stocked shelves, and worked at the register, all while Chan was on the edge of his chair, waiting for something to happen. But, it seemed, it was all for nothing. The sun set and the store closed and seemingly all was well. She locked the front door and set about closing everything down by herself.

Chan relaxed a little, hearing her calm humming as she closed down the register and counted out the money in the back of the store. After the money was counted and locked in the safe, she just had to make one last pass through of the store to make sure no one had left something behind or left a mess and then she could head home. Over the radio, Changbin and Jeongin started joking around, getting playful after a tense day. Everyone was relaxing, at least until a loud crack broke over the mic followed by her surprised squeal. The jokes stopped and everyone froze.

“I know you all are out there,” the loner’s self-satisfied voice cut through the silence. “Don’t worry. I won’t make her suffer, but sadly, you will.”

Before the words were even finished coming out of the loner’s mouth, Chan was up, running as fast as he could to the store. He had to get in, he had to protect her. Jisung was on his heels as they ran across the street and into the strip mall parking lot.

“Why?” She asked, her voice slightly strained.

“Why should he have you when my mate was stolen from me?” He growled.

“What did they have to do with that?” She asked, keeping him busy for as long as possible. If he was explaining things, he wasn’t killing her.

“Nothing,” he admitted, dragging her towards the back door. “But neither did anyone in the last three territories I went through. This one was the first one that figured out it was me though.”

“What the hell is the matter with you,” she spat. “You think you can take something from others just because it happened to you?”

“Why should I be the only one who has to be alone?” He demanded, pushing her against the wall by her neck.

“The only one,” she scoffed, realizing this was probably not the ideal way to handle this, but she couldn’t help it. “You know most people don’t have some beacon to tell them who they are supposed to be with. Even those who do, people lose the people they love all the time. Car accidents, illness, crime, no one needs your help suffering, you selfish, shitty person.”

“What do you know,” he hissed back.

“I know that your mate was lucky not to have had to spend a lifetime with someone who would do this,” she challenged. “No one deserves that.”

Shock and rage vied for dominance in his expression as he stared at her. He made a sound of pure rage and pulled back a hand to strike her. Never having been the sort to just lay down and give up, she kicked out catching the side of his knee. It didn’t really hurt him, but it was enough to unbalance him and make him catch himself, giving her the chance to break out of his grip. She knew she wouldn’t get far, he was faster and stronger, so she just tried to get as close as she could to where Chan and the others were. They would come, she had faith.

The loner came up, grabbing her from behind. “I’m glad, even if this is the last thing I do, I’m not just denying him his mate, but I’ll take his child, too.”

On the other side of the glass door, Chan felt half a second of numbing terror. He had to get inside, for both of them. Changbin picked up a part of a broken concrete curb stop and smashed it against the window, cracking the safety glass into a million little pieces, still stuck together by the coating, but weakened. He hit it again, opening a hole the size of a fist, and again, until the tear in the inner plastic layer got bigger. Impatiently, and perhaps a little recklessly, Chan covered his hand with his jacket sleeve and tore at the shattered glass. Finally the hole was big enough and he crawled through onto the display on the other side of the glass. He had to find her.

Their scuffling was audible and he found them quickly, rolling on the floor a few aisles into the store. She had curled into a ball, only moving to thwart his attempts to move her or drag her further to the back of the store. They all leapt on him, pulling him off her and dragging him away before they made sure he could never hurt another person. Chan stayed with her, trying to get her off the floor where she lay. He needed to hold her, make sure she was okay, make sure the loner hadn’t done anything to her that needed an ambulance.

She peeked out from under her arm, checking who it was before throwing herself into his arms. Relief coursed through her like she had never felt before. She breathed his name and threw her hands around his neck. Pulling her to his chest, he held her close for a moment before pulling her back to get a better look at her. Bruises were blooming on her neck and wrists, but that seemed to be the most serious injuries inflicted upon her.

“Baby girl,” he looked into her eyes, trying to find the words to express how sorry he was he hadn’t been there.

“I knew you would come,” she assured him.

“I will always come for you,” he promised, his hand dropping to her stomach. “For both of you. I will always protect my loves with everything I have.” Over the past few days he had been so preoccupied with their hunt and their planning that he hadn’t noticed the subtle change in her scent.

“How do you know,” she shook her head. “I don’t feel any different.”

“Nothing much, just a little change in your scent… hormones and all that,” He smiled and shrugged. It wasn’t really something a person could sense themselves. “Are you happy? I know this has been… too much.”

“I am,” she nodded. “I may not have chosen this way to meet you and fall into your world, but I don’t think I can imagine ending up anywhere else.”

“You’re mine,” he assured her. “And there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do just to see you smile.”

Masterlist

#bang chan #stray kids smut #stray kids imagines #werewolf AU #chan #stray kids #kpop imagines #kpop smut #chan smut #bang chan smut

105 notes · View notes

twdmusicboxmystery · 3 years

Text

Revolution Theme, Part 2: War of 1812

READ PART 1 HERE

Wow! Thanks @wdway! Love all this!

You’re right that that the Crossing of the Delaware painting makes a lot more sense, now. It also made me think of the more recent pilgrim paintings we’ve seen the past few years. I think we can work those in as well. The pilgrims were somewhat revolutionary in their actions. Not so much in a massive war or battle sort of way, but they left England (yes, Britain) to find freedoms their mother country wasn’t willing to give them. Which is revolutionary in its way.

But more to the point, that was the first step that would eventually lead to a war for freedom between Britain and the American colonies. So, you could see them as the precursor to the revolution. So, it makes sense to use that painting for TF and TWD right now, because what’s been happening the last season or 2 is the precursor to the final, big revolution.

When you got into talking about 2 revolutions, that makes tons of sense as well, and I totally agree.

When you talked about the white house and library of congress being burnt in 1812, about six things came to mind, lol.

When Eugene was at the Sanctuary (which I 100% believe foreshadows the final revolution, Beth, and what Eugene’s role will be in it) he played the 1812 Overture when he did the science experiment for Negan’s wives. (Including Amber, who looked like Beth and Tanya, who had a lot of Beth’s dialogue with Eugene). I’ve kind of low-key obsessed over that song and why they used it, but other than foreshadowing a final battle with Eugene as I’ve already said, it was hard to connect anything more specific.

The 1812 Overture was not actually written about the War of 1812. It was written in celebration of Napoleon’s retreat from Russia. Basically, he tried to invade Moscow early in 1812 but failed miserably and eventually had to retreat. Not so much because of being out-fought, but more because of weather, illness, lack of supplies for the army, etc.

Now, that’s not the same thing you mentioned in the British fighting Napoleon before turning their attention to the American colonists, but the link is still there. Napoleon/Russia>1812 Overture>Napolean/Britain>Britain/American Colonies. See what I mean? So, the idea of two wars or a war on two fronts really makes sense.

I’ve been trying to find out if the 1812 Overture has a d.c. al coda in it. I don’t think it does, but I’m having a hard time finding the sheet music online. You can find it, of course, but often it’s blurry or watermarked in such a way that it’s hard to read, and that’s because they want you to buy it to remove the watermark. I’ll keep looking.

But I do know it has a coda. Maybe not a d.c. al coda, but a coda of some kind. In fact, while I’m still not sure until I can clearly see the sheet music, from what I’ve read others saying, the final, super-loud, exuberant part of the song that’s often used in U.S. Independence Day celebrations IS the coda. And it represents Russia winning the war over Napoleon. Coincidence?

So, Napoleon fought many wars on many fronts. There’s that. But as you said, the British first fought Napoleon (perhaps that will be the Commonwealth) and then turned to the American colonists. And given what was said in 5x09 about a rebel group fighting against the “republic” using what amounts to guerilla tactics, that does line up with how the American colonists fought the British during the revolution. So clearly that’s the one that will involve Beth and TF (though of course they will probably be involved, at least to some extent, in the Commonwealth bit as well).

Also, also. You talked about the LIBRARY of congress being burned. I’m not sure how, but suddenly I feel sure all the books and librarian stuff must be connected to this. To the revolution theme. I still remember watching the beginning of 6x16 and thinking it was SO significant, but I had no idea why. It’s where we see Carl lock Enid in the closet to keep her safe, and she’s yelling at him things like, “what if you don’t come back?” And he tells her, “just survive somehow.”

Meanwhile, that scene is intercut with Negan’s guys chasing the librarian they end up hanging over the bridge with an X spray painted on his chest. And then he gets…burned?

I remember thinking that just FELT like a big war that was coming, but back then, I really didn’t know how to interpret it. Of course, AOW started soon after, but the librarian group wasn’t a big part of that. If we’re honest, they really were just random side characters, which was odd because that sequence FELT so important. So, I’m betting we ought to be connecting them to this as well.

The Native American Symbols

For the record, a couple of things I’ve been trying to look into and haven’t found much (mostly because I haven’t had much time to do so yet) include what role Native American tribes played in the American revolution. Some were loyal to the British, others to colonists. As I said, I need to do more research, but little tidbits like this one are interesting:

“Their biggest contribution was as spies going to Canada and returning with news of the English plans, and attacking English coastal shipping. The Indians played a leading role in preventing an English attack on Machias by sea from being successful. “

(AL’s voice coming out of the radio in 5x09: “At least 68 citizens of the Republic have been killed in four deadly attacks along the main coastal district. The group has continued their campaign of random violence, moving across the countryside unfettered, with the Republic’s military forces in disarray.” Just saying.)

The other thing I’ve looked into is Francis Marion’s (Swamp Fox’s) connection to Native Americans of the time. During the revolution itself, I’m not finding much. But we do know that he learned a lot of his battle prowess from fighting the Cherokee Indians as a young man.

What he learned there is what made him so effective against the British. So, I’m wondering if that will translate with Beth in that she’ll fight the CRM or perhaps even in battles with the Commonwealth early on and that will give her what she needs to triumph much later in bigger battles. Or maybe they’ll connect it even earlier back to early battles with TF and what Daryl taught her. The possibilities are endless. ;D

@wdway:

If you do a search, it's quite fascinating and well worth the time to do two searches. One on the burning of the White House and then the other one on Andrew Jackson and the Battle of New Orleans.

There are things that I just did not go into like the connection with Napoleon that we've seen hints of in the past couple of seasons and didn't know why. The Cherokee Rose, which has been a symbol for so long and I do not think it was their intention in the beginning but what most people do not understand is that the Cherokee Rose has a strong connection to Andrew Jackson.

Andrew Jackson had a singular focus on driving the Native Americans (mostly the Cherokee Nation) to the West. Lightbulb moment here, but maybe that might be same of the meaning of Indian symbolism.

Jackson had a major part in the Trail of Tears, which is basically the story that Daryl tells Carol after walker Sophia was discovered. Jackson was a brilliant military soldier, but he was not known as a compassionate person. His nickname was Old Hickory (a tree reference) because the hickory tree's wood is known for its hardness.

A few years back, tptb did a promotion showing nuts that had a hard outer shell. People didn't understand what that was, but I knew because it was a hickory nut. A very hard outer shell and then inside is the actual nut. Hickory wood was the favored source for making baseball bats back in the day because they would not easily break.

The other interesting fact about Andrew Jackson was his love for his wife, Rachel. It was a legendary love. He might have been an asshole to the entire world, but Rachel was the love of his life. When she died, he did not simply bury her. He entombed her in her own little Mausoleum at his home, The Hermitage, just outside of Nashville.

Jackson fought both in the Revolutionary War and the 1812 war, in the Battle of New Orleans. He apparently had been imprisoned by the British for a time during the Revolutionary War, which fired his hatred for them.

Am I the only one thinking about the connections between him and Negan? I'm thinking of the two wars, the Commonwealth and the war against the CRM. I want to think that the Commonwealth conflict is represented by the War of 1812. The larger, more overall important conflict with a CRM will be the American Revolutionary War, with Rick replacing Washington as the leader.

I was freaking out when you mentioned the Overture of 1812. I don't care if it was written for the war led by Napoleon with Russia. If anything, that makes it even as stronger clue that we're on the right track because of the Russian satellite and Russian dictionary that little Judith got from (wait for it) the library, for Eugene.

One other thing, @twdmusicboxmystery. I thought about this earlier today when I was reading about the 1812 Overture, but I wanted to do a check before I mentioned it to you.

Two very famous pieces of music came out of the 1812 wars. The 1812 Overture about Napoleon and Russia, and The Star-Spangled Banner, our U.S. national anthem written by Francis Scott Key about The Battle of Fort Henry. Both Fort Henry and The Battle of New Orleans were fought in 1814 but were known as being part of the War of 1812.

Can’t wait to see how it all plays out.

Definitely very interesting! Thanks for all this research @wdway!

#beth greene #beth greene lives #beth is alive #beth is coming #td theory #td theories #team delusional #team defiance #beth is almost here #bethy

7 notes · View notes

lookalivefrosty · 4 years

Text

Summertime

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader (but, really, Winter Soldier Bucky x Female Reader)

Summary: Three days ago, the Winter Soldier walked away from Hydra. They’ve just sent you to bring him back.

Word Count: 7,656 words (!!!)

Warnings: a heavy helping of angst, descriptions of injuries and pain, canon typical violence. The reader is an enhanced human with the ability to manipulate pain. (Let me know if you come across any others I’ve missed, I’ll gladly add them!)

*Reblogs of course are welcome, but please do not repost this story to any other websites without my permission!!*

A/N: This was written for @jbbuckybarnes‘s birthday writing challenge. Happy belated birthday, and thank you so much for reassuring me that it was okay to post this past the deadline! I didn’t mean for it to take this long, but the good news is, this is the first thing I’ve written and actually liked in about five or six years. So, yay? I really hope you and everyone else who reads it enjoys it!

P.S: my prompts are bolded, the not too shabby moodboard was made by me, and the title of the fic and lyrics within said moodboard are courtesy of My Chemical Romance’s ‘Summertime.’ Oh, and, the totally awesome text divider seen just below (and several times throughout the fic) was created by @writeyourmindaway (thank you)!

EDITED ON 5/24/2021 - no major changes, only a change in spelling for two of the characters' names.

“You ever think of where you’d go if you got out of here?” you’d asked the Soldier once, the two of you hunkered down in a safe house somewhere in Alaska. It’s been so long since then that you can’t even remember what mission had brought you there - or maybe you should say, so much has happened since then that you can’t remember.

He didn’t answer your question. He couldn’t. His programming limited his dialogue to giving orders to those ranked below him and answering the questions of those ranked higher. You’d been able to see his answer in his eyes, though, sitting there on the opposite side of the hallway from him, your faces illuminated by an oil lamp he’d found while sweeping the basement for any threats.

They had narrowed slightly, his way of wordlessly saying, ‘No.’

No, because he never thought he would ever escape from Hydra; and neither did you, for that matter. But it was nice to think about, especially back then. Freedom.

“I can remember,” you’d said slowly, not missing the faint look of surprise that crossed his usually stoic face at the words. You shouldn’t be able to remember anything that occurred before they wiped you the first time. But you remember this vividly, too vividly for it to be a mere fragment of your imagination.

“I can remember,” you’d started again, “this place my parents and I used to go to along the Blue Ridge Parkway.”

And then you’d told him about it. How after visiting a few tourist attractions you’d park the car at a lookout spot and stare out over the miles and miles of autumn colored trees in the valleys below, untouched by man aside from the randomly placed house. Far away from where you stood, blue tinted mountains pierced the overcast sky - and it was beautiful.

He’d listened to every word you’d spoken intently, his gaze never straying from your face as you reminisced on happier times. And when you’d finished, he’d looked sad. You could feel the longing in his chest within your own, and see a sparkle in his stormy blue eyes that seemed to say, ‘I would take you there, if I could.’

And he has, hasn’t he?

Here you are, standing at the very same lookout you’d told him about that night. It’s warmer than you remember, greener, seeing as it’s summertime - but it’s no less beautiful. If you squint you can see ghosts of the past; two figures standing against the most breathtaking of backdrops, smiling with their arms around one another as you took their picture.

You miss them.

Your parents.

You wish you could remember more about them.

About yourself.

Your old life.

“Empat.”

His voice startles you, but not because you didn’t know he was there. You’d felt his presence step within the reach of your powers almost twenty minutes ago; had known it was him because you know his aches and pains as well as you know your own. The phantom pain where his left arm used to be, the carpal tunnel syndrome in his right wrist and hand from years of holding a gun, and all the other wear and tear seventy years of assassination work has put on his still visibly young body. New to the roster, though, is the break in his right forearm - no doubt an injury gained during his fight in D.C. three days ago. A fight you’d been sidelined for, but should have been battling alongside him.

If you had been, that break wouldn’t be there. You’re certain of that.

You could only do so much with the amount of distance between you, but because you care, because you wanted him to know that you knew he was there, you’d cast your healing warmth over the fracture, numbing it until you could touch him and heal it completely. As thanks, he’d given you this time with your memories. Time before the inevitable had to happen.

But time is up now, and he’s standing right behind you, his voice startling you not because it’s unexpected but because he’s never been able to call you anything, let alone the name Hydra had given you. Empat, meaning Empath. His programming simply didn’t allow for it. To hear his voice say it now - after months and years of knowing each other, fighting alongside each other, nearly dying for each other - well, it’s quite a shock to the system.

Three days, you think. It’s only been three days since he walked away from the Triskelion wreckage, walked away from Hydra, and already he’s regained the ability to speak autonomously. And here you are, sent here to drag him back to the very same people who stripped him of his ability to do so in the first place.

You, because they know that in spite of their best efforts to keep him as emotionless and empty as possible, he feels something for you. Because if it’s you asking him to, he might come back willingly, without a fight. Because if it comes to a fight he’ll hesitate before killing you, and give you the opening you need to-

“Empat,” he says again, interrupting your internal ramblings. The sound of it threatens to bring tears to your eyes.

You don’t want to do this.

But you have no other choice.

“Hi, Soldier,” you greet him gently, and he takes that as his cue to move to stand at your side. He places himself on your left and it’s such a familiar position: you and the Soldier shoulder to shoulder, against the world. Normally it would bring you comfort; but today, it just makes you sad.

As if he can sense it - which he probably can; he has a knack for reading people - the Soldier brushes the back of his hand against the back of yours in a silent offer of comfort. You turn your wrist and intertwine your fingers with his without a second thought, and together you gaze out over the mountain range, silence hanging thick in the air between you for what feels like a lifetime.

And then, “Is it what you remember?”

So you were right. The red star on the tracking device had stopped in this town with a familiar name yesterday not by coincidence, but on purpose. He’d traveled west, deep into the peaks and valleys of the Blue Ridge Mountain range just so he could bring you here, to the location of your only remaining memory.

It’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for you - that you can remember, at least - and, God, do you want to cry.

“Yes,” your voice and your smile is strained, “Thank you.”

He squeezes your hand tighter in response, causing a bolt of pain to shoot up towards his shoulder and down to the tips of his fingers - but he shows no signs of feeling it when you glance in his direction. He was trained to suffer in silence; if you weren’t, well, you, you wouldn’t have the slightest clue that he was in any pain at all.

“Your arm?” you inquire, turning your head to face him at the same moment he turns to face you. It’s only then that you realize what he’s wearing: a black baseball cap pulled down over his brunette tresses, a dark denim jacket over a black t-shirt, blue jeans and his usual pair of boots. The shoes are the only part of his attire that you recognize, but you have to admit, this casual look he’s got going on…

You like it.

“Steve,” he tells you, as if you know who Steve is. You raise your brows. “The guy on the bridge,” he amends. “Captain...Captain America.”

Right. The target Hydra had sent the Soldier to kill not once, but twice - an anomaly, as he usually gets the job done on the first try. You’d been as shocked as your superiors when he came back from the fight on the bridge to report the mission as failed - but more so due to the foul mix of emotions churning within him than the failed mission itself.

It was astonishing to see him in such anguish so openly; to feel the full force of his normally repressed guilt, anger and sadness. You’ve gotten glimpses of it in the past, during those precious few minutes between him being awoken and being wiped. But only one other time had you seen him so distraught, which could only mean one thing.

The target - this Steve, whoever he is - had somehow broken through decades of wipings and programming to free the man Hydra had tried so hard to keep contained, and every sour emotion he’s felt while locked in his cage - though only for a moment before Alexander Pierce ordered him to be shoved behind the bars again.

It’s not easily done; liberating the man that lingers beneath the surface of the Soldier.

You would know.

You’ve done it before.

“You knew him,” you say simply, recalling the trembling words he’d spoken that day. Words that, when combined with the look on his face and what had happened after he’d uttered them, had shattered your already broken heart into even smaller shards.

“But I knew him.”

“I don’t know,” the Soldier replies eventually, and he’s lying - to you and himself.

But that’s okay.

You assure him as much with a small smile.

“Here,” you change the subject, “let me…” you turn your body towards him and bring your right hand up to cup the back of his, which still clings to your left one, as he turns to face you as well. You close your eyes and focus on the break, casting your warmth over it and holding it steady as it guides his bones back into place. As it does, your body takes his pain and converts it into ammunition, adding it to what’s already been piled high within you thanks to the metal choker around your neck.

Hydra’s scientists had designed it especially for you; a necklace that would, whenever your handlers deemed it necessary, electrically shock you continuously so you would have to be constantly taking your own pain away. Whenever you use your healing abilities - regardless of whether you’re using them on yourself or someone else - your body absorbs the pain and stores it within until you either unleash it on someone or your handlers shut the necklace off and the power coursing through your veins is allowed to dwindle away on its own.

It flows through you now, but you’re so used to the uncomfortable prickling feeling that accompanies it at this point that you hardly even notice it’s there anymore.

How sad that is.

“Thank you,” the Soldier says after you’ve finished healing him and open your eyes again. That’s another first: the Soldier thanking you aloud instead of with his eyes and soft, secret touches. If it weren’t for the current circumstances, it would have brought you joy.

“Don’t thank me,” you beg with a rapid shake of your head. “Not when you know what I’ve been sent here to do.”

“Empat, it’s okay-”

“No,” you interject harshly, dropping his hand and retreating a few steps backwards. “It’s not okay, Soldier. It’s not. Because you knew,” your smile is sardonic as you point a finger in his direction. “You knew they’d send someone - that they’d send me - after you. You knew what they’d make me do to bring you back. So why, Soldier? Why didn’t you cut the tracker out? You could have been free,” your voice cracks on the last word, and you feel his chest ache in response.

He holds your gaze for a moment longer before dropping his focus to the grass between his boots. You stand there, blinking tears from your eyes and waiting for him to say something - anything - in defense of himself, but he doesn’t say a word.

He’s maddeningly silent.

“Why would you do this?” you demand again, your voice frail in spite of the anger rising inside of you. The Soldier is slow to raise his gaze back to yours, and even slower to give you an answer.

“‘Cause I wanted to.”

It hits you like a punch from his left fist, and you find yourself unable to speak.

He... He wanted this? He wanted you to be sent after him? To potentially have to fight him, to have to drag him back to the people you’ve always told him you wished you could help him escape from?

“Listen,” he urges, seeing the look of hurt and betrayal that’s overtaken your features. He’s lifted his hands in a pacifying gesture, and his left one catches your attention, as it’s donning a black winter glove. Where did he even find one of those this time of year? “I did it because I didn’t know how else to find you. I went back to the bank after...after the fight, and everyone was already gone. You were gone, and I had no way of knowing where you were but I knew that if I left the tracker in, it wouldn’t be long before they sent you after me. It...It was the only way I had to be able to see you again,” he finishes with a sad, tearful smile, the same one he’d given Alexander Pierce that night after his first encounter with Steve.

It pulls at your heart now just as it did then, but at the same time -

“You could have been free,” you echo your earlier words, sounding every bit as devastated as you feel. Your tears make the Soldier a blur as he steps closer to you, raising his hands to tentatively cup the sides of your face. You blink and a pair of them slip down your cheeks only to be quickly smeared away by his thumbs, gloved metal and bare flesh alike.

“I don’t want to be free if you’re not free with me,” he tells you softly, and you see those words for what they are: a testament of his love for you. It’s the first time he’s been able to voice such a thing, and you want to find joy or at the very least solace in it. Truly, you do. But right now, with the situation at hand, knowing he’s tossed away the only chance at liberation he’s had in seven decades all because he didn’t want to leave you behind, you can’t.

You just feel guilty. So incredibly, debilitatingly guilty.

“I’ll never be free of them,” you state grimly, pulling out of his hold and putting some distance between you. “As long as this necklace is around my neck, I’m stuck. They’ll ramp it up as soon as I get too far for their likings and kill me. But you - you had a chance. And you threw it away because of me,” you practically choke out the last word. You pause for a few moments to collect yourself before continuing to speak, your eyes fluttering shut to send another pair of tears down your cheeks.

“I’m begging you, Soldier. If you love me, cut the tracker out and leave. I’ll tell them you beat me unconscious before I could move to apprehend you, or… I don’t know. Something. Just please don’t make me take you back there. Don’t make me the reason you go back there, I…” your throat gets too tight for you to speak any further, so you open your eyes and try to communicate with him through them, as he used to you.

I won’t be able to live with myself if you do.

He lets your unspoken words hang between you for exactly seventeen shaking breaths, and when he goes to speak, he looks apologetic, telling you he’s not going to change his mind even before he confirms it aloud.

“You know I never get to choose what I want for myself,” he says, a pleading tone to his voice. His eyes are equally as imploring as they stare into yours, trying to get you to see just how much he needs you to do this for him. “I want this, Empat. I do. So, please, for once in my life - let me have what I want.”

…How are you supposed to say no to that?

The answer is simple:

You don’t.

“Alright,” you sound as defeated as you feel. “Alright.”

The corners of his lips twitch upwards, but the glossiness of his eyes conveys what you feel twisting inside of him. The fear. The sadness. The anger.

He reaches out, asking for your hands, and you unfold your arms to give them to him, biting back a sob as he intertwines his fingers through yours.

“Whatever you have to do,” he says slowly, “Do it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and inhale deeply to gather what little strength and courage you have left in you; then, you breath out a single word:

“Sputnik.”

A moment later, the Soldier collapses at your feet.

…

...

You couldn’t do it.

You’d told him you would, and had fully intended on honoring his wishes - but it was one hour into the three hour drive back to the safe house your handlers were waiting for you within that you realized you just couldn’t. You couldn’t take him back to the people who have been holding him hostage for over seventy years, doom him to another who knows how many more years of brainwashing and torture. You couldn’t, and you wouldn’t.

So you turned the car around, much to the displeasure of your handlers. The wattage of your necklace shot up almost immediately after you’d made the u-turn, and you’d almost driven into the guard rails due to the sudden onslaught of pain. You’d quickly smothered it, though, and righted the vehicle on the road, backtracking until you reached the abandoned house you’d spotted only a few minutes prior in the drive.

It had caught your eye because of its reminiscence of that safe house back in Alaska. It’s a small and barely standing home made of deteriorating wood, its front door hanging by a single hinge. Upon entering it you’d found it had the same damp, moldy atmosphere, and a similar, familiar layout - a ground level with two bedrooms and a bathroom, a living room and kitchen area, and a basement. Its windows were shattered, parts of the wood flooring were either caved in or missing altogether, and you’d even found an oil lamp while you were scoping out the basement.

Talk about déjà vu.

As for getting the Soldier into the house, it was as much of a struggle as it’d been to get him into the car your handlers had sent you out in. Somehow, though, you’d managed, and had tied him to a weathered dining chair that had squeakily threatened to collapse under his weight when you’d dropped him into it.

What had happened after that is nothing more than a blur of blood and tears, right up until you’d collapsed into an identical chair in front of a boarded up window, staring as if you could see right through the planks to whatever lies beyond.

You don’t know how much time has passed since then, but you haven’t moved since you’d sat down. You’ve barely even breathed.

There’s a pounding in your head from previously shed tears and there’s dried blood on your hands, your clothes. You’re shaking so badly you don’t know how you haven’t vibrated right off of the chair and into a clump on the floor.

He hasn’t woken up yet. You’re starting to worry he may never - that there’s another code word that has to be used to wake the Soldier after he’s been shut down by ‘sputnik.’

Wouldn’t that be just your luck? To do everything that you’ve done in the time since he’s been unconscious just for it all to be futile because-

A soft groan sounds from behind you, and you hold your breath.

Did you actually hear that? Or did you-

“Empat?” he rasps, a confused lilt to his voice. You almost start crying again at the sound of it.

He’s awake.

Everything you’ve done isn’t for nothing, after all.

“I’m here,” you get to your feet and move towards him slowly. Taking in his disoriented expression, you ask, “How do you feel?”

You being you, of course, you already know how he’s feeling; he’s got a headache similar to your own and he’s discombobulated, stiff and sore. Still, you ask him - not only because it’s nice to do so but because you want to hear it out of his own mouth.

However, instead of answering your question, he raises one of his own. “Why are you covered in blood?”

You stop right in front of him, shaking your head.

“It’s not mine,” is all you offer, reaching forward to brush his hair out of his face since he can’t do it for himself. You then trail your fingers down the side of his cheek, watching as his eyes flutter shut briefly in response to the gentle touch before he seemingly forces them open again, assessing you with his stormy blues.

“Where are we?” he asks. You freeze in your movement.

“Hour away from where we were,” you supply. He ponders that for a few moments, tearing his eyes from you to take in what he can of the room before meeting your gaze again.

“Are they coming to extract us?”

You drop your gaze.

“Empat,” his tone is low; dangerous - the closest it’s been to the one he uses while giving orders on missions this entire time. You turn away from him and clasp your trembling hands together.

Every so often your handlers have been knocking up the voltage of your necklace to tell you to hurry up and get you and the Soldier back to the safe house. You’ve been having to use more and more of your powers to keep yourself from feeling it, from being harmed by it, and it’s drained you more than you’re willing to admit.

You don’t know how much longer you can fight against it. You need to get moving before they ramp it up beyond the reach of your powers and kill you, which they’d very clearly told you they would if you failed them.

You’ve only hung around this long waiting for the Soldier to wake up to make sure that he would wake up; you didn’t want to leave him behind without knowing for a fact that he was going to be okay.

But he’s awake now, and really there’s no reason for you to be here anymore... Yet, you can’t bring yourself to move any further away.

“Empat,” the Soldier calls for you again, this time more desperate. “What did you do?”

You close your eyes.

He’s going to be so upset with you over this.

But perhaps that will make it easier for him to move on.

“I cut the tracker out,” you inform him, hearing him inhale sharply in response. “I…Understand why you didn’t do it yourself. I’d do the same thing, to see you one last time - but you know that if our roles were reversed you would refuse to take me back to them. So you shouldn’t expect me to,” you face him again, letting him see the tears that started running down your cheeks as you were speaking.

He looks as devastated as you feel.

Biting back a sob, you walk back up to him and cup the sides of his face, as he had yours earlier, and lean down to rest your forehead against his. You remain in that position for only a moment before pulling away enough to peer into his tear-filled eyes.

“I’m sorry I have to be another person keeping you from what you want,” you brush your thumbs over his cheekbones, “but I can’t do this to you. You’ve been with them so much longer than I have, Soldier; you’ve been through so much - too much. You deserve to be free, to live. And you’ve got a chance,” you smile at him sadly. “I can’t take that from you.”

Those words appear to be what takes him over the edge, as with his next blink, the Soldier’s tears spill over. They run down his stubble covered cheeks and quickly find themselves wiped away by your waiting thumbs.

“They’ll kill you if you show up without me,” he chokes out. And he’s right. You know he is. But,

“You would do it for me.”

You have him there, it seems - because he has nothing to say to contradict your statement. You nod, for no particular reason, and press your lips to his forehead; your silent I love you, your wordless goodbye.

You pull away from him with the intentions of leaving, but before you can even straighten your spine he says, “Y/N.”

You freeze.

That name…

You pull further back and meet his gaze.

“What?”

“Y/N,” he says again. “That’s your name. Your real name.”

Your breathing hitches.

You don’t know how, but you know he’s right. You can feel it.

“How-”

“You told me,” he answers your unfinished question. “When we first met, before they wiped you that first time - no one told you I couldn’t talk and you - you introduced yourself to me. You were terrified of me, I could tell - but you still stuck your hand out and told me your name. I couldn’t,” he pauses to gather himself, Adam’s apple bobbing. “I couldn’t have told you my name even if I could have remembered it, but I put my hand in yours, and you smiled at me. Do you know how long it’d been since someone had smiled at me? Without any malice behind it?” he leans forward against his binds, baring his wet eyes into yours.

You don’t say anything. You’re completely and utterly speechless, staring at him with wide eyes and a trembling lower lip. You drop your hands from his face and take a step back, absorbing every single word he has to to tell you.

“They wipe me to make me forget, but I never forgot that moment, Y/N, no matter how many times they did it. I never forgot your name even though my own was long gone.” The Soldier presses on, “I don’t know why, but I feel like it was for a reason. Like I was supposed to be the one to remind you what it was - to help you remember who you were. But I can’t do that if you’re...If you…”

He doesn’t finish, but it’s not hard for you to figure out what he was going to say.

I can’t do that if you’re dead.

“I don’t know what you think I can do,” you force the words out around the lump in your throat, “I die if I go back without you. They’ll kill me if I stay with you - either way, I’m dead. There’s nothing we can do-”

“Yes there is,” he insists, desperate. “We can go there - we can fight them-”

“And they’ll kill me as soon as they realize what’s happening,” you dismiss the suggestion, “right in front of you. I don’t… Want you to have to watch me die, Soldier. I don’t want you to have to carry that around with you for the rest of your life - can’t you understand that?”

“Untie me then. Let me try and get that thing off of you-”

“What?!” you take a step back as if he’s struck you. “Are you insane?! You’ll get electrocuted if you touch it!”

“Not if you protect me from it,” he counteracts. You shake your head and go to protest against the idea, but he starts talking again before you can. “Don’t you remember the day you realized what you could do? What you could really do?”

Of course you do. That’s another memory Hydra couldn’t rip away from you no matter how hard they tried: the day you found out the true extent of what powers Loki’s scepter had bestowed upon you. The day that you were promoted from the Winter Soldier’s nurse to his partner in crime - literally.

Seeing the look of recognition in your eyes, the Soldier latches onto it. “You can do it again. I know you can.”

“Your arm,” you point out. “It’ll conduct the electricity - send it straight towards your heart. And I don’t know if what I can do is enough to protect you from the damage that would cause.”

His face falls.

Clearly, he hadn’t thought of that.

He parts his lips to make another argument but before he can get a single word out the wattage of your necklace suddenly increases again, making you cry out and fall to your knees. You just barely manage to smother the pain this time; if they turn it up any higher, you’re not sure you’ll be able to.

“I knew you couldn’t do it,” a voice taunts in Russian from somewhere behind you. Recognizing it, you lift a hand in the general direction it came from and feel the power coursing through your veins gather in the palm of your hand before a cloud of black smoke erupts from it. The man lets out a scream of pure agony a moment later before hitting the weathered floorboards, dead. You look over your shoulder and take in the lifeless form of the handler before turning back to the Soldier, wide eyed.

“Untie me now,” he orders, and you know better than to argue with him.

As Hydra’s motto claims, ‘Cut off one head, two more will take its place.’

You’re gonna need his help.

So you scramble to your feet and round the chair he’s tied to, unsheathing the knife strapped to your thigh. It’s not easy to cut through the rope, which had been specially designed to restrain the Soldier, but it’s not impossible, either. You have him free before long and he puts his hand out for the blade, which you hand over without even thinking just in time for two more figures to step through the doorway.

“Sput-” the handler who had been just a syllable away from shutting down the Soldier again gets cut off by the knife you’d given him embedding itself in his chest. A cloud of black smoke engulfs him a moment later and he chokes on it for a moment before collapsing just as the first had.

Next, gun shots ring out. If any bullets hit you, you don’t feel them - all you can feel is the power in your shaking hands, the slight ease of its pressure as more of it is released onto the third Hydra agent. She does little more than gasp before her eyes roll back in her head and she lands on top of her comrade.

The Soldier surges forward, scavenging the closest body for any weapons. He finds a gun just in time to get a head shot on a fourth agent.

“We need to get out of here,” he states the obvious, taking a shot at a fifth one.

He doesn’t miss.

You clench and unclench your hands, the power surging within them making it impossible for you not to fidget. “My tracker’s still in, they’ll just follow us,” you remind him, “and the necklace-”

“Search them for the remote,” he meets your eyes briefly over his shoulder. “Someone here has to have it.”

You nod and kneel beside the body he’d taken the gun from. You rummage through the handler’s pockets, coming up short on finding the device that would free you from the necklace. From Hydra.

It’s unreal to you that this is even happening right now; you never thought you would ever have even a chance at freedom, but now -

As if it’s punishing you for even thinking about escaping, the wattage of your necklace suddenly spikes. And as you’d predicted, this time you can’t completely cover the pain it’s inflicting on you - it’s too strong, hurts too much.

You scream and fall sideways, clawing futilely at the electrified metal around your neck. For several long, agonizing moments, all there is is pain, pain, pain - and then, suddenly, it’s gone.

You think at first you’re dead; in fact, you’re certain of it. But then a hand taps on your cheek and you open your eyes - when had you even closed them? - and see the Soldier’s face hovering over your own. It melts with relief and he says something to you, but you can’t hear whatever it is over the ringing in your ears.

You’d tell him that, if you weren’t so dazed.

After some time the Soldier gives up on getting a response out of you and helps you to sit up, watching you closely afterwards, presumably looking for any signs that you’re going to pass out. You don’t, though your head does swim, and find yourself blinking rapidly trying to get your eyes to focus. They land on the doorway when they do, where a familiar man stands holding a familiar object, the sight enough to make your blood run cold.

Having noticed the shift in your demeanor, the Soldier follows your line of sight, tensing just as you had when he realizes what you’re looking at.

The ringing in your ears fades away just in time for Talon, the highest ranking of the handlers, to speak.

“Drop the gun, Soldat,” he commands, shaking the hand holding the remote to your necklace pointedly. “Or watch your precious little empath die.”

The Soldier swallows thickly. Then, he obeys, the gun clattering onto the wood floor just beyond your reach.

“As I thought,” Talon muses, his smile anything but friendly as he approaches you and the Soldier at a slow pace. His eyes are fixated on the latter, but his thumb hovering over the red button on the remote is enough of a deterrent to keep you from trying anything.

You don’t refrain from openly glaring at him, though.

“You’d do anything to keep her safe, hm?” Talon inquires coolly, his lips falling into their natural frown. “First chance at freedom in almost seventy years... And you toss it away for a girl you’ve known for two,” he holds up two fingers on his free hand for emphasis, and you flinch. Even though they’re the same words you've been telling yourself this entire time, they somehow sound even worse coming from someone else’s mouth.

The handler doesn't show it outwardly, but he notices how his statement hits a nerve. You know this because, for a moment, his irritation gives way to amusement; he can tell you're feeling guilty, and he's enjoying it.

Bastard.

Talon comes to a stop a few feet away from where you and the Soldier are sat. His eyes, their irises the color of green peridot, flicker back and forth between the two of you a few times before he seethes, “She makes you weak.”

The Soldier tightens his arm around you, and you can feel the anxiety rising within him; the anger. You want to spare a glance in his direction but opt to keep your gaze fixated on Talon, afraid of what he might do if you were to be momentarily distracted.

“It’s pathetic,” the handler goes on, “and if we didn’t need her help to sort out the mess your failure-” he jabs an accusing finger at the Soldier “-created, I would have you kill her. Slowly and painfully, to punish you both.

"I should regardless, considering what she was about to do,” he moves his focus onto you, now. “You should count yourself very lucky, Empat, and pray that I still find you useful when all this is said and done.”

Your glare turns deadly at the threat. In response, Talon hits a button - not the red one - to make your necklace come to life, albeit on a much lower setting than it’d been on before.

It’s a warning more than anything, but it still hurts.

“Yes, you will both be punished harshly for your recent acts of disobedience - eventually,” Talon states, tossing the remote into the air and catching it, quite literally playing with your life. “There’s simply no time for it now, as we leave for Sokovia tonight, per von Strucker’s request. He’s made a call for all of his creations to return and help defend their birthplace,” he stuffs the hand holding the device into his pocket and seems to consider you before adding, “He’s very interested in seeing how your powers have developed since he’s last seen you, Empat.”

Unease claws its way down your spine at the words, and though you’re not sure why - you trust it. You may not consciously remember von Strucker, but there’s a girl locked away in your mind who does; who’s warning you that he’s no one you’ll want to see ever again.

You trust her.

Talon sighs exaggeratedly, having seemingly grown bored of this one-sided conversation he’s been having with the two of you.

“Get her up, Soldat; we must get going,” he commands. You feel your heart lurch, and finally tear your gaze from the handler to look at the man who’s yet to let you go.

There’s a look of calculation on his face; the one he bears whenever a mission goes wrong and he has to come up with a new plan on the spot. What could he possibly-

“My name,” the Soldier snarls through gritted teeth, glaring up at the other man with pure hatred swirling in his chest. “Is James, Buchanan, Barnes. Not Soldat, not Asset - James. Bucky.”

You gasp silently in response to what he’s just revealed, and place your hand over that of his that rests on your waist, squeezing it tightly. Right now is the most inappropriate of times to feel happy, but you are, because the Soldier, your Soldier, he has a name. Well, he’s always had one - but now he remembers it; now you know it. You know his name and you know your own - your first one, at least - and, wow. You have names. Real, genuine names and it feels so surreal, so right, even if you are currently standing on the verge of losing them again.

“I gave you an order, Soldat,” Talon emphasizes the title pointedly, and you whirl back onto him with a glare even more murderous than the first had been. “And I expect you to follow that order, or I’ll-”

In your peripheral vision, you see the Soldier - James, you remind yourself - pull out a gun and line up a shot with expert ease. You barely register the action before he’s pulling the trigger and an ear piercing bang echoes throughout the abandoned house.

The bullet hits its mark, of course - a fatal head shot.

Talon’s body falls towards the ground and when it makes impact, whether his hand was just carrying out his last request or your luck is just that bad and he happened to land on it, the red button on the remote gets pressed.

The wattage of your necklace spikes, and it’s the most excruciating and unbearable pain you’ve ever felt. Your lips part to scream but the cry doesn’t even get a chance to escape before you succumb to the pain being inflicted upon you, your world going dark.

And then…

And then there’s light.

Not a heavenly, bright light, but a dim, golden glow.

You blink against it a few times, trying to focus your vision, all the while casting your healing warmth over the pain in your head. The world around you finally aligns and you realize that you’re in a car, sprawled across the back seat with your head lying on top of a rolled up denim jacket.

Your last few moments of consciousness return to you as the headache is successfully smothered to nothing, and immediately your hand shoots up to grasp at your neck - the action sending a jolt of pain through your arm.

Brows furrowing, you withdraw the limb and bring it to eye level, finding a bandage wrapped tightly just below your elbow. You bring your other hand up and pull the bandage down carefully, revealing a stitched up wound right where Hydra’s scientists had implanted a small tracking device beneath your skin seemingly so long ago.

The implications the sight brings forth make your heart stutter.

Slowly, almost afraid of what you’ll find, you lower your hand back towards your neck -

Finding nothing there.

And the fact that your necklace is gone is your second indication that something huge happened while you were unconscious, as the only time your handlers ever take it off of you is when you’re off mission and locked away in a cell. Gingerly, you rub at the scarred skin where it usually rests, putting the few pieces you’ve gathered so far together.

Your tracker has presumably been cut out, your necklace is gone, and both of those things could only mean-

You stop yourself short, realizing you’re getting ahead of yourself.

You can’t let yourself think that until you know for sure it’s true.

So without moving - because if it isn’t him, you’re gonna want the advantage of the person in the driver’s seat not knowing you’re awake - you close your eyes and reach out with your powers, studying the only other soul in the car. You take into account every familiar ache and pain in their body, the fragile hope within their chest, and you smile.

“Soldier?” you call, ignoring the pain in your arm as you push yourself up into a seated position. Startled, his icy blues snap towards the rear view mirror.

And then they melt.

“No,” he responds, a smile tainting his tone. “I’m Bucky.”

Disbelieving and overjoyed, a laugh bubbles up in your throat. He maneuvers the car to park it on the side of the rural road and you slide off of the back seat, leaning over the center console to look at his face. He turns to look at you, too, grinning - something you’ve never seen him do before.

He’s offered you slight tugs at the corners of his lips in moments where he was more ‘James’ than ‘Soldier,’ yes, but not ever this - this flashing of his teeth and crinkling at the edges of his eyes. Bathed in the golden glow of the rising sun and freedom, he’s one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen.

“Hi, Bucky,” you greet him breathlessly, smiling so hard your cheeks hurt.

“Hi, Y/N,” he returns, and the next thing you know you’re being pulled - squealing - from the back seat towards the front, and his arms are around you, holding you tight against him. In the cramped space of the car, the embrace is awkward and even on the verge of painful - what with all the levers and the steering wheel digging into you; but you don’t care. You just wrap your arms around him, too, and pull him impossibly closer, a different kind of tears filling your eyes as you bury your nose into his dark hair.

“I thought I lost you,” he heaves out the shaking words against your chest, trembling in your hold. There’s so many emotions twisting within him that it’s hard for you to decipher them from one another, but most prominent of all is his guilt; his overbearing, gut-wrenching guilt. It makes you realize, with a sinking heart, that not only had he thought you dead, he’d thought he’d been the one to kill you - inadvertently - by shooting Talon.

“I’m right here,” you murmur into his hair, pressing a kiss to it after. “It’s alright - we’re alright, Bucky. We’re free.”

At your words, he pulls back enough to meet your gaze, an almost mystified look on his tear-stained face. It’s the smallness of his voice as he repeats your last two words back to you that causes your own tears to spill over.

“We’re free.”

He almost sounds like he doesn’t really believe it, and you can understand that, as you hardly do yourself - but still, you try and reassure him, nodding quickly.

“Yeah, Bucky, we’re fr-”

Bucky presses his lips against yours, cutting you off.

Taken aback, you stiffen at first - but then you melt into him, one of your hands moving to cup the side of his face and pull him closer, the other sliding down to rest over his heart. It beats strongly against your palm, setting the pace for the kiss, the first the two of you have ever shared. And, oh, what a first kiss it is: gentle yet passionate, grounding but freeing all the same.

It warms you from the inside out and tingles beneath the surface of your skin in the most exhilarating of ways, making you feel so alive - reassuring you that you are, as it would be so easy for you to convince yourself that you’re not, since this is the closest to Heaven you’ve ever been.

If you could have it your way, it would never end; you would stay in this moment for the rest of your life, reveling in the feeling of Bucky’s lips moving against yours and his arms encasing you, the mix of positive emotions swirling in your respective chests. Your lungs however eventually betray you, and you have to part from him to catch your breath - but you don’t go too far. You only move to rest your forehead against his, a happier rendition of a moment lived not too long ago.

You stay like that, just basking in one another, for an eternity. And then he asks you, in a tone that tells you he’s open to anything you might suggest, “Where do you want to go?”

You smile as you open your eyes, meeting his waiting gaze.

“Anywhere,” you tell him simply. “As long as I’m with you.”

A/N: first and foremost, if you’re reading this, bless you for making it this far, and I really hope you liked this one-shot! I’d love to hear any thoughts you may have on it :).

I’ve been planning the story of Bucky and this specific reader in my head for months now, so to see them finally “come to life” is a pretty great feeling. I hope you guys love them as much as I do, because I’ll hopefully be sharing the journey that led them to this ‘epilogue’ with you soon 💜.

One last thing, I want to give a shout out to every single person who has given me words of encouragement and advice over the past few months as I’ve talked about picking up writing again. Especially @stop-obsessing-over-those-actors, whose reaction to just a snippet of this one-shot and constant support throughout the writing process pushed me to keep going even when I felt like giving up and dropping out of the challenge. I’m so sorry I kept you waiting to see what happened for so long! I hope the wait was worth it!

( @buckyreaderrecs and @stop-obsessing-over-those-actors, I did it you guys!! 💜)

178 notes · View notes

forevers-winter · 4 years

Text

full folklore analysis!!

as promised, here u go. warning very long.

first of all, the album’s name is super important to its meaning. “folklore” is stories passed by mouth, whether spoken or sung, so taylor’s not singing about herself in most of these songs and some of them are linked into a bigger story. i’ll start with individual analysis of each song and then get into the main storyline.

the 1: from the perspective of a girl (our protagonist) that’s been cheated on, hence the line “if it would’ve been me.” she’s looking back on a relationship that was very summer-love-esque and fun while also acknowledging that it wasn’t meant to be and detailing the bittersweetness of that understanding. one of my faves; linked to august, illicit affairs, and betty.

cardigan: from taylor’s perspective about joe and how she met him at a time where most everyone saw her as a snake or a backstabber and was neck-deep in the worst drama she’s ever been in. as she says in miss americana, “falling in love with someone who had a wonderfully normal, balanced life” was the best thing that could’ve happened to her at that time, hence her relationship with joe made her “feel new again” after so many that were always in the public eye. a lot of people think the cobblestones line is related to betty and/or the 1, but this song as a whole doesn’t fit with the heartbroken themes of those two. more likely it’s hinting at the fact the taylor and joe spend a lot of time together in europe, where cobblestone sidewalks and roads are commonplace.

the last great american dynasty: as many have realized, this is the story of rebekah harkness, the former owner of taylor’s rhode island house who hosted a ballet studio there. that’s literally it, just the story of a badass who doesn’t give af about the opinions of people around her. also one of my faves.

exile: dual perspective from both sides of a relationship that ended with the woman moving on and the man staying stuck in the past. “staring like he’s just your understudy,” “i gave so many signs,” etc. may be about one of taylor’s past relationships in relation to her and joe now but i doubt it. if i had to guess, probably calvin harris bc there were also engagement rumors and marriage plans swirling around with the two of them.

my tears ricochet: taylor’s perspective about the john mayer situation, ie “didn’t have it in myself to go with grace,” “if i’m dead to you,” “battleships,” etc. taylor notoriously wrote an almost-seven-minute song absolutely tearing him apart back on speak now (not going with grace), and their relationship was crazy violent and accusatory for the year or two following (battleships) and neither of them have talked about it since (dead to me+battleships sinking). i think this is her way of apologizing whether or not she had to (spoiler alert: she didn’t).

mirrorball: taylor’s perspective about the public’s opinion on her and joe “i know they said the end is near” but also telling them that their relationship is still going strong “i’m still on my tallest tiptoes...shining just for you.”

seven: holy fuck this song. it’s obviously from taylor’s perspective about her childhood as it mentions pennsylvania, but i have no clue who it could be about and i think that’s the point. it’s about loving someone in your childhood (no pronouns but implied that it’s a girl due to braids and hiding the closet) and wanting to run away with them but realizing as you get older that it won’t happen and eventually forgetting each other’s faces but still remembering how they made you feel. def one of my faves on the album bc it’s g a y a f.

august: also very young-summer-lovey, perspective of a high school girl who lost her virginity to someone older (same person who cheated on her in the 1) hence “never have i ever before,” “you back at school,” etc. but ended up being abandoned and manipulated into thinking they still cared “cancel plans just in case you’d call.” linked to illicit affairs and betty, more on that later.

this is me trying: taylor’s perspective detailing the struggle of growing up in the public eye as a superstar. “had the shiniest wheels now they’re rusting”=going from the golden girl of country music to a politicized controversy-ridden indie/alternative artist. again linked to miss americana: she wanted to stand up for what she believes in and is defending her missteps by stating that she’s trying her best. another of my faves.

illicit affairs: protagonist again. goes into detail about an apparent affair with her partner, now confirmed to be a “him” in the line about perfume.

invisible string: about taylor and joe, super cute, soulmate au type beat. next.

mad woman: taylor roasting sc**ter br*un within an inch of his life as she should. next.

epiphany: hooo boy this one is DEEP. not taylor’s perspective, but about the general trauma anyone experiences from watching someone die or being with them as they die; “some things you just can’t speak about.” extremely relevant during the pandemic, “hold your hand through plastic now” and the recurring line about watching someone breathe. the epiphany in question is the hope for a miracle cure to save the person as they’re dying. favorite crying song on the album.

betty: here we goooooo. perspective of the protagonist’s partner james and his* apologizing to betty for cheating “it was just a summer thing.” the scene of walking on cobblestones and being picked up in a car is the opposite perspective of the same scene in august, and “her” is the narrator of the 1, august, and illicit affairs. the way my interpretation differs from others is that betty isn’t the protagonist in the storyline. *also the fact that this song could very well be wlw if one assumes that illicit affairs is a standalone story not related to the love triangle.

peace: this one...giving us very much kaylor if you ask me. sunshine babey. i can’t even fully analyze it because my dumb bisexual brain just becomes tv static. however, it implies that kaylor will never be an official thing but they’ll keep coming back to each other as friends, hence “never give you peace.” also completely unrelated but the line “clowns to the West” LMAOAKSDNWN ROAST THEM SIS.

hoax: our girl is back. not taylor, the same narrator from all those other songs. this is her final take on james leaving her for betty until the 1, years later.

okay, if you’re still here, buckle up bc here’s the full story in order. august: our girl and james are in love in the summer. everything is cute and good but looking back she sees the trouble on the horizon. illicit affairs: james gets with betty but is still fuckin around with our girl on the side. the line about lies and lies implies that he said betty was the side girl and she believed and cared about him enough to stay while he’s really falling in love with betty and she ignores all the signs that she’s actually the other woman. between this song and betty, betty finds out about our girl and breaks up with james. betty: james realizes he loves betty instead of our girl and is apologizing (and making excuses) on her porch. betty’s a dumb bitch so she forgives him and they get back together. hoax: our girl is in absolute despair over james, who she trusted and loved with all her heart only for him to run off with betty. the 1: despite being the first song on the album, it’s the conclusion to the love triangle’s story. our girl is years older and more mature, looking back on her summer with james and understanding that he couldn’t control his falling out of love with her but appreciating the time they had together. flashes of the sadness from hoax come back, but she always switches it back to the positive. in conclusion, chronological order of the story is: august, illicit affairs, betty, hoax, the 1. and scene.

here’s my potentially hot take and explanation why i don’t think this album is about karlie: doubting taylor and joe’s relationship in favor of shipping kaylor is biphobic, especially after seven on this album basically confirms taylor has had crushes on girls/is bi. it’s one thing to speculate about the past or hope for them to get together, but ignoring the times taylor has gone on record saying that she loves joe and the songs she’s written about him and the more recent evidence that the two are quarantining together is disrespectful to her current relationship. the notion that she’s secretly dating karlie while letting her fans and the press think she’s with joe is furthering the stereotype that bi people are more likely to cheat or lie in a relationship and therefore biphobic. thank you.

anyway lmk if you want me to analyze the non-storyline aspects of the album! (or if you hate me for making it less gay lmao)

108 notes · View notes

geeky-politics-46 · 3 years

Text

I Thought You Didn't Like To Talk?

Loki/The West Wing FanFiction Crossover

Chapter 1 - "Loki Gets Put In Time Out"

Once again Mobius found himself walking the halls of the TVA with an incessant chattering behind him, like a yappy little puppy. Oh how he missed the days when Loki pretended he didn’t like to talk. Now he was luckily if he could get him to shut up for longer than 2 minutes at a time.

One of Loki’s favorite things to talk about was of course himself, & all of his fun tricks & exciting things he’d done. Well he found them fun & exciting. The people on the receiving end of them probably felt differently.

Loki was the king of the spin though. He could take any of his exploits, no matter how much betrayal & back stabbing it involved (& sometimes it did involve literal back stabbing), & somehow tell a version where he came out as the hero or at the very least an innocent bystander.

That was the part that most drove Mobius up a wall. He was constantly reminding Loki that spinning or embellishing stories relating to their cases could create real & dangerous problems. At the very least it could create a whole mess of paperwork & interoffice annoyance for Mobius to clean up.

“Are you mad? You seem a little mad? But you’re not mad at me right? Clearly my words were just misinterpreted by that pack of imbeciles, it was an ambush .” Loki offered in an attempt to diffuse the tension between Mobius & himself. Without a hint of hesitation he followed the TVA agent into one of the time theaters.

Mobius dropped the files he had been carrying on the small round table in the middle of the room & pulled a TemPad from his jacket pocket. He had finally decided a fitting way of dealing with Loki’s lose understanding of telling the truth & reluctance to play nice with others when speaking. He had created a little “time out” spot, where Loki’s bravado could be knocked down a peg or two.

Well, Mobius didn’t really create it himself per say. He had remembered a particular Earth television program that may just have the perfect spot. That part of working at the TVA was particularly fun. Snooping though lots of popular TV programs from throughout the universe; past, present, & future. However this particular show offered a special opportunity where Loki could talk & spin as much as he wanted, not knowing the push back he would be hit with. He was about to play deputy press secretary to one of the most important men on the planet Earth. For now though that part would stay Mobius’ little secret.

“Loki do you remember what I told you would happen next time I caught you lying or ‘embellishing’ as you like to call it?”

A puzzled look appeared on the god’s face, “something about getting a taste of my own medicine, but in all honesty after that I really stopped listening”.

A mischievous smirk now adorned Mobius’ face. This was gonna be so fun to watch. He pressed one last button on the TemPad while keeping his eyes locked on Loki’s. Suddenly an orange portal door appeared out of no where. Slowly Mobius moved to Loki’s side so he could face the time door as well.

A large smile suddenly appeared on his face, & without warning he pushed Loki forward & into the portal. Looking back at Mobius Loki saw him waving & fighting back laughter. Just as the time door began to transport to a different place & maybe even a different time Loki heard Mobius yell to him, “Well I hope you enjoy your time out!”:

The door quickly compressed down & disappeared. Mobius would go get him in a few hours, after he learned a little lesson about why it’s important to think before you speak.

Once he arrived back at his desk he was a bit concerned that he found himself actually excited to get some work done. He clicked on a little screen to left corner of his desk so he could keep an eye on Loki, & settled in to his paperwork. Exhaling into the peace & quiet.

————————————

As the orange time door faded Loki found himself surrounded by darkness. He had no idea where he was, or even when he was, or what could be lurking in the dark waiting for him. Surely Mobius wouldn’t send him somewhere truly dangerous. Right?

Loki put his hands out in front of him, feeling around for any clue as to where he might be. He slowly noticed noises coming from behind him & began turning in place to find it’s source. It sounded like… people. As he had finally honed in on the spot the sound was coming from, a bright white light suddenly flooded the room & all he could her was a woman’s scream. He grabbed the closest thing to him to aid in his defense.

His eyes began to adjust to the sudden influx of light & he began to realize where he was. This was a broom closet. He was standing in a broom closet; & to top it off the ‘weapon’ he grabbed was actually a mop. He was frozen to the spot, like a deer in headlights. Eyes wide & mouth agape. Half in shock, half in embarrassment.

He now stood face to face with the woman who had been screaming. She was lanky with porcelain skin & straight blonde hair, dressed in a light grey pant suit. She had one hand grasping the doorknob to the closet & the other clasped over her mouth. She & Loki just stood there, staring at each other. Both were too stunned to speak. Neither of them moved until a man began to walk through behind the woman. His head down & hands full of papers. His brown hair slightly disheveled & the sleeves of his white button down shirt rolled up to his elbows.

"Hey Donna, can you…. Oh hey, looks like you found him.” The man had now stopped in place & grinned widely, glancing back & forth between them. Without moving or even turning his head he tilted his chin up slightly & bellowed at the top of his lungs “C.J., DONNA FOUND HIM!”

Now that the silence had been broken, Loki hastily dropped the mop that he suddenly realized he was still holding. Quickly extending a hand & offering a tight smirk to the still slightly shaken blonde woman. “Ah, so you must be Donna. I’m Loki Laufeyson.” He said, using the name the man behind her had used. Hoping it would conceal that he still had absolutely no idea what was happening. “Um, yeah, hello”, she said softly & a little tentatively back to him, offering him the hand that no longer covered her mouth. A slight smile crossing her slowly relaxing face. “I’m his assistant”, she offered while quickly tilting her head back toward the slightly rumpled energetic man behind her.

Donna quickly stepped to the side & let Loki step out of the closet. As he straightened his shirt & tie, Loki realized the man that had been standing behind Donna was now talking directly to him & had begun walking away, gesturing & clearly expecting Loki to follow him. “Hey. I’m Josh. Josh Lyman. Deputy chief of staff. So you’re the new guy huh? I’m guessing you must have gotten turned around trying to find C.J.’s office. She had us all out looking for ya. The bullpen isn’t that big, but I’m convinced they come in here at night & move things around when we aren’t here just to mess with us. Alright here we are, the office of the one & only Miss. Claudia Jean Cregg. Press secretary extraordinaire!”

Josh, apparently that was his name, had stopped walking & had gone silent. Loki assumed surely to catch his breath from saying so much in the short walk there. He gestured to the open door before them both. With that Josh swatted Loki on the back of the shoulder with the papers he still had in his hard, only now they were rolled up. Before Loki could thank him, Josh quickly spun on his heels & started walking the other direction, & once again began shouting down the hall.

Loki still didn’t know where in the world he was, but at least now he had a few names to work with. Josh Lyman, his assistant Donna, & C.J. Cregg.

Behind the dark stained heavy wooden desk in the center of the room sat a tall confident woman with shoulder length light brown hair with soft blonde highlights in a white button down shirt & navy blazer. Her narrow glasses perched on the end of her nose She briefly lifted he eyes from the legal pad she was writing on, peering over her glasses to the dumbstruck man in her doorway. “Sit” she said bluntly, lifting her pen & using it to point to the chair opposite her desk. “& close the door behind you”.

Her eyes & pen had now returned to the pad in front of her. Loki opened his mouth to speak, but before he could even get a sound out she lifted her hand & gestured for him to wait one minute. Loki did as he was told. He’d been here maybe 15 minutes & he had already discovered he was no longer the top of the totem pole. He noticed a goldfish swimming around in a bowl on the corner of C.J.’s desk & studied it for a moment. Even the fish looked like it knew more than he did.

“&… done.” C. J. announced & added the last punctuation mark to her work with extra emphasis. She placed her pen down on top of the legal pad before interlocking her fingers & letting her hands come to rest on her desk. She lifted her head up took off her glasses & looked at Loki. Her facial features had now shifted into a friendly well practiced smile.

“Glad you finally found me, & clearly from the sounds of it you already met Josh & Donna. You’ll be seeing a lot of them. Normally getting lost in a broom closet isn’t the best way to start your first day on a new job, but you certainly made an impression. Now let’s talk about what the duties of your job as White House deputy press secretary will be.”

Loki’s eyes widened & his mouth dropped open slightly, imitating the movements of C.J.’s goldfish. As he thought to himself, oh crap.

3 notes · View notes