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theravenkin · 1 year

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i am sitting in bed in the dark on my phone and i wrote an angsty twinyards one shot on my phone. don't know what is wrong with me but it's something. here.

*TW: panic attack, vomiting, drugs, vague reference to abuse, general AFTG-typical bullshit*

"stop," andrew repeats. "stop it." he rubs aaron's back as he heaves again. andrew itches all over with the memories picking at the edges of his mind. he pushes them away, focusing on his brother. "you're fine. just breathe."

as aaron goes blessedly, dangerously quiet for a moment, trying to calm his gasping breaths, andrew can hear the others lingering near the doorway.

"fuck, fuck, fuck," says a soft, gravely voice. it is katelyn. andrew doesn't turn around.

"hey, i talked to abby, and--" matt isn't talking to him, but andrew cuts him off.

"i don't care," he says. he holds up the plastic solo cup beside him. "get him more water. some crackers or something, too. he's almost done."

matt, thankfully, does as he's told and gets out. andrew finally turns to look at the others. katelyn leans in the doorway, viciously chewing on her nails. neil stands beside her, watching her, standing guard to make sure she doesn't interfere with andrew's operation. neil's his second in this fight, he thinks.

aaron coughs and sits up from the toilet. he sways a little, eyes unfocused.

"i'm sorry," he croaks. andrew cuffs him lightly. "ow," he says without much conviction.

"shut up. are you done freaking out?"

"you just told me to shut up. how am i supposed to answer--"

the return of the snark means he is, in fact, done freaking out, returned to baseline. andrew punches him in the arm lightly as katelyn snorts in the background. andrew ignores her.

aaron takes a deep, shuddering breath. he deflates as the tension that'd been holding him together evaporates. he wipes his face on his sleeve and tries to stand up. andrew pulls him back down. he stays.

matt comes back with water and crackers. "hey matt," katelyn says roughly, "do you guys have any gatorade?" matt turns back around to get some. andrew swallows down a wave of irritation.

aaron drinks the water, eats the crackers, and drinks the gatorade, and only then does andrew let him stand. he leads him to the couch, but aaron shakes his head. "nah, i'm...i think i'm gonna go lay down." andrew holds a steadying hand on aaron's shoulder for a couple steps, but aaron isn't stumbling as much as he was before. andrew lets go and lets him walk on his own.

"do you want me to..." katelyn asks softly.

aaron turns around to look at her, but doesn't quite meet her eyes. "no," he chokes. he clears his throat. "um...no, i'm good. just need...some time." he continues to look at the ground before her.

she smiles and nods easily. "alright, sounds good. i'll stick around for awhile, if that's alright?"

aaron nods.

"alright. i'll just chill on the couch for a bit, then."

andrew wants to slap the pitiful look off aaron's face, but he doesnt. he just watches aaron disappear into the bedroom without another word.

the others stand there for a beat, quiet and unsure how to process among themselves what just happened. matt is the first to break the silence.

"uh," he sighs, "i'm...gonna go. to the store. yeah, i'm gonna go to the store. get some more gatorade, and stuff. i'll be back in a while."

neil catches andrew's gaze and andrew reads the minute change in his expression as inquisitive. he looks at matt, then back at neil, and nods, gesturing with his chin to the door. go. neil nods, gives him one more firm look--it's okay, you're okay, i'm okay, he's okay, be careful, don't fuck anything up, i love you-- and follows matt out of the dorm.

when he looks back, katelyn is sat on the couch. she stares ahead, silent. she doesn't seem scared of him, like she used to, or even resentful of him, like she has more recently. she doesn't show any sign that she's even aware of him. she's lost in her head, eyes blazing. andrew watches her grind her teeth; otherwise, she is still.

he casually strolls over and sits on the opposite end of the couch. still, she gives no indication that she gives a fuck.

he stares at the same wall that she does and lets the silence stew for a few moments, dreading when he inevitably has to puncture it.

"so," he begins, keeping his voice carefully neutral and breezy, "are you going to tell me what triggered that little episode?"

she remains catatonic for a moment in which andrew feels anger coming off of her in waves. he wants to throw her out the window by her hair. but he can't, unfortunately--not when she was the one who'd been keeping aaron from choking on his own panic until andrew got there. not when she'd called andrew first, the minute she knew something was wrong.

no one else. him. she called him.

she sighs through her nose. "the episode--do you mean the panic attack? or the substance binge?" he feels her turn her head to look at the side of his. though it makes his skin prickle in discomfort, he turns to meet her.

she is like andrew has not seen her before--tightly-coiled, like she is ready to fight. he didn't know she fought. maybe she doesn't. maybe the instinct is separate from the skill.

andrew doesn't reply, nor does he show surprise, so she keeps going. "he apparently thought it was a good idea to mix liquor with 25 grams on an empty stomach."

andrew gives her a bored look. "oh no, how shocking and bad." he checks his nails, performing dismissiveness. "he--"

"shut up," she says. he whips his gaze back to hers. she looks quietly, coldly furious. "i know he's done worse. i know. but, god--he'd been doing so good. and, fuck--pills, coke, weed, whatever--it doesn't matter what he chooses to hurt himself with, does it?"

andrew sucks his teeth, but she doesn't let him get a word in.

"he hasn't been doing shit like that at all, lately, it's just--" she sighs, and it snags on the way out. she works her jaw for a moment, looking at the ceiling.

"he..." she tries at last. "he mentioned something about having a dream about his mom last night. and i knew he was having a bad day, all day, i could tell. he said he was gonna take half a dose just to settle his nerves, but..." she shakes her head. "i keep thinking, you know, 'i should've known better, i shouldn't have left, i should've stayed with him all day', but i know that's not." she clenches her fists; her knuckles go white. andrew is silent.

"he's not exactly stable, but he's an adult, and he doesn't need a babysitter. i'm not his..." she purses her lips as though she's tasted something sour.

"he greened out," she says simply, short and clipped. she picks at a loose thread in the sofa. "hard. plus the alcohol, plus the general anxiety all day. that's all. he made a stupid decision."

andrew is still for a while, then finally, finally nods. "and then he spiraled," he says, matter of fact.

she nods in return, looking dejectedly at the floor. "mhm."

she worries the thread looser. "he, um..." she clears her throat. "he was babbling, while he was panicking, before he started throwing up. he...god, he was so fucked up." she shakes her head, the coil tightening. "he was just rambling, and at some point, he...he said something about 'her'. he was just like, 'fuck, when is she getting home? what time is it? what time is it?' he was terrified, kept saying 'she' was coming home early."

andrew's chest tightens. he grinds his teeth once, twice, three times, to feel the sharp pain stab through his jaw.

"cant fool a junkie into believing you're not high," he manages, but his throat is dry and the words come out cracked. he resists the urge to cough.

katelyn releases a shuddering breath. he looks up, but she's staring at the wall again, the intensity reeled back inside of her. it bubbles under the surface.

"i'm glad that you killed her," she says lightly. andrew's heart thumps hard, making his chest shake. he swallows.

"he told me," she adds. her tone is coldly nonchalant. "he told me what you did. or, what he thinks you did. i don't disbelieve it."

she finally looks at him. "either way, i'm glad she's dead." in her eyes is that intensity, simmering under the lid, about to boil over. "my only regret is that i wasn't there to do it myself."

she holds his gaze for a half-second longer before she turns back to face the wall. her legs are crossed at the knee, her manicured hands folded neatly, properly in her lap. she sits perfectly still.

andrew watches her. he watches, because when he doesn't know what to do, he steps back and observes while he figures it out. he's trying to figure katelyn out--something he hadnt bothered to do before, out of bitterness, the resentment of the rebuked. but now, he watches, watches, trying to put a name to the thing she is.

a year ago, she'd been a threat to his brother's health, a threat to his own place in his brothers life. a threat to whatever value he had to aaron.

now, all he sees is a threat, plain and simple.

for a while they sit in silence, andrew sometimes watching her, sometimes not. sometimes he thinks, sometimes he listens to the hum of electricity in the walls. sometimes he wonders if he can hear aaron breathing or snoring or weeping through the wall, but he can't.

matt and neil return soon enough, and they look at the scene the two of them make like it's a fallout. matt moves slowly and quietly, so as not to spook. neil shuffles to the perimeter of the sitting area, hovering within a safe distance. not trying to interject; just reminding them, /we are here, and this is weird, and i want to know what is going on/. andrew flicks him a glance, annoyed, but tired enough that he could fall into neil's arms. he looks away again.

after a few minutes of neil hovering and matt pretending to still be putting groceries away and the other two stewing in their own silence, the bedroom door creaks open. aaron takes half a step out, looking every bit the beaten and broken fifteen year old andrew loathed. aaron's hunched frame makes him sick.

"hey, kate," he croaks, sounding as pathetic as he looks. "um, if you wanna...come in. we could talk, or." he looks around at the others, shame resting in the bags under his eyes. "whatever."

katelyn watches him. evaluates him. he's the only person in the room to her, in this moment. andrew reads that plain on her face, as clear to see as her anger had been seconds ago. she gives aaron the shittiest, dullest half-smile. "how about you take another few minutes, and then i'll be right in. is that okay?"

aaron's shoulders sink down further, like his guilt is gravity. "yeah," he rasps. he closes the door.

the boys are frozen. katelyn is still. she sighs, runs her nails against her scalp, smooths her hair back. then she turns to andrew. she waits.

he sighs. "i tried to get rid of her," he says at last.

katelyn gives him that same shitty not-smile. "yeah," she says. "we keep trying, keep trying to get rid of her, don't we?"

andrew sniffs. she shrugs. she stands, but doesn't go anywhere for a moment; he looks up at her.

"we're doing our best, i think," she says. she leaves that between them; they hold it between them. they don't look each other in the eyes anymore, but they hold that thing between them. then, at the same time, they let go, and she walks to the bedroom door, slipping inside.

andrew slumps back against the cushions, the coiled tension that'd been holding him upright finally unfurling.

#i don't know what this is but the idea would not leave me alone #anyway go katelyn #go team mommy issues #twinyards #andrew minyard #aaron minyard #aftg #all for the game #all for the game fic #neil josten #matt boyd #katelyn aftg #aftg angst #twinyards angst

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jotunvali02 · 1 year

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Watched John Wick again, this time in OV.

Caaaaine... ^///^

His scenes with John are a lot gayer than in my memory.🕶️🏳️‍🌈

Spoilers below

Caine used to ride John. Noted.

Watching them fighting is like watching gay sex. No debate.🏳️‍🌈🔞

Skarsgård's French accent is rather good without sounding like a caricature. I still wanted to punch his richass face. I like how everyone disrespects him more and more as the movie moves forward.👍

Did anyone notice that Caine is careful enough NOT to kill Koji's men?? Even when he literally has his gun against their forehead? No, he just smugly smiles and knocks them out. He was sincere about not killing inside the house of a friend. 😭

The end credits with Sawayama's voice explode your earsdrums and you LOVE it! The songs sound 200% better in a movie theater btw.

People loved Winston and his swag very much. And loved the puppy and the puppy eyes too of course. The peeing part is the best obviously. It's the LEAST abusers of animals deserve.🐶

While John always keeps a stern and brooding face when he's fighting, Caine snarks and smiles and enjoys his fucking self when he's doing it. HE loves his job! (when it doesn't involve killing his husband and friends of course)

I love how the main difference with John is that Caine is more expressive. He cries when sad, smiles when happy, swears when angry... not things you expect from pro assassins, let alone from John Wick.

"But I can hit you. Motherfucker."🤬

"Lights out, assholes."😎

Harkan reminded me of a mix of Jack Horner from the Puss in Boots feature and Ridge Taylor from the French-Canadian parodic TV show Le Coeur a ses raisons. So I call him Ridge Horner now.

"He's mine." Caine talking about his husband. He also likes to remind everyone how John is HIS business and no one else's.

John supporting his husband in his mother-tongue (the level of complicity!) in front of a cheating bastard.💕

YOU DON'T KILL DOGS, YOU CRAP OF A MOTHERFUCKER !!

I don't know about Berlin, but the whole shit on the Place de l'Etoile could totally happen in real life. Maybe not for that long, but it could happen.

About Paris: THERE IS A FUCKING FUNICULAR TO GO TO THE SACRE-COEUR! Why the fuck didn't you take it, John?? We even SEE the station! We actually can SEE the lights of the fucking station like three or four times while he climbs the stairs like a fucking idiot! I swear I craved to cry in despair and scream out "The station! The fucking funicular station is right behind you!! Take it, stupid!"

Finally,

A church. Really? A church? Where they both coincidentally end up at the same time?

"I missed you, John."💔

IN. A. CHURCH.

A duel that strongly looks like a wedding. Like the most beautiful and most romantic wedding, with the Harbinger who look like a priest in his fancy clothes, the two witnesses (like in a wedding) and the mushy clichéd sunrise.

I swear when the Harbinger puts on his ceremony attire, I expected him to go "we are all gathered here today to witness the union of Mister Wick and Mister Caine" and so on.

GASP! I understand the stairs trip now! It's a fucking metaphor for walking your beloved to the altar! Of course!!

"I want you to take these stairs, John." Course you do. How could your wedding be carried on otherwise?

Btw, Caine should have kissed John after the duel.

To keep the wedding metaphor until the end and most of all: If I had been forced to kill the man I love or else my daughter would be killed, and that man managed against all odds to set the both of us and my daughter free and safe while my sole idea had been to kill him, I would have crashed on my knees, sobbed my eyes out and most importantly KISSED him with all my heart! And told him I fucking LOVE him!💗💗💗

Like, Caine is the happiest, the most joyful man at this right moment, he's visibly trying not to cry out of joy and endless love and gratefulness for John and... just a "my brother" and a pat on his back? Like... everything written above + the fact John is maybe dying right now and that's all you do??

THAT'S the most unrealistic part of this movie! Not the Berlin club, not the Place de l'Etoile, not the outrageous number of assassins, not John's apparent immortality, it's Caine NOT kissing John on the mouth after all the bullshit they've just lived!

Shut the fuck up with your "my brother". Call him "my love", "my beloved", "my cherished one", there are so many possibilities!

#john wick #john wick caine #john wick/caine #vincent de gramont #john wick chapter 4 #john wick 4 #jw4 spoilers #le coeur a ses raisons #sacré coeur #paris #berlin #dance clubs

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smootbrainchicken · 2 months

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Without Me

Part 2

September 2, 2024

School was mid. I expected it but I had hoped maybe I could just pass by and let the world spin around me. Nope, the first problem came after 2nd period.

2nd period honors English with Mr. Wilson, one of my favorite teachers but least favorite classes. I like English to a point, and we crossed that point 5 years ago in 6th grade. Now it’s just a class I tolerate. Unfortunately for me I am actually good at English so they keep putting me in higher education English classes and that’s how I ended up in class with mr. and ms. know-it-all, Violet Davison and Barry Saloman. They have been dating for 2 years and honestly they deserve each other, she can never shut up and he is first in line to correct someone over anything. That’s also how I ended up in the same class as Reece Tallon, a totally hot senior. The seating chart for class had me in the front of the class far left row, right in front of Reece and beside Violet. Violet seems to think that because Ii’m not part of the popular clique anymore that we are friends because she keeps talking to me about her summer and how great her schedule is this year.

“Look I know it’s the first day and all but I really don’t care” I snapped at her.

“Oh, I had just thought that since you had fallen from the top of the high school social hierarchy, you would be my friend” she replies.

I rolled my eyes, “I didn’t fall from the hierarchy.”

“You kinda did. I mean you were basically the second in command to Allison, queen bee status, now you're a nobody.” she remarked.

“First of all she didn’t rule the school at 15, she was popular but she wasn’t a sophomore superhero. Second, I didn’t fall off the face of the earth, I left a toxic group of people, and plenty of them are following suit.” I argued.

“She’s right you know,” Reece chimes in.

I turned to him, “excuse me?”

“I just mean that you were on top of the world hun, even i know who you are” he explains.

“Is that supposed to mean something to me?” I snarked.

He raises his hands in mock surrender, “Alright honey no need to get snappy. I get that it’s a sensitive topic, why don’t you sit with me at lunch today?”

“I can’t leave Danni,” I told him quickly.

“Then she can come too, we have room” he answered.

“Are you sure that it’s okay?” I am skeptical about his invitation.

“I’ll see you at lunch today” he says, shutting me down.

“Y-yeah, we will be there.” I stutter out.

“Perfect see you then,” he winks at me then walks out of the class.

“Violet! Let’s go, "Barry yells across the room.

“Goodluck with Allison, you’re gonna need it” Violet walks away from me to go to 3rd period.

That was the first time I was specifically sought out by people today, the next was lunch. Danni and I used to sit at the center table with the popular clique and the jocks sat one table over but now they have combined the two and the popular boys and girls sit together to judge everyone else who are obviously so far below them. Theo is sat by his best friend and he seems comfortable enough with that crew I don’t even try to say hello. There's no need to try to rescue him because he doesn’t need rescuing, those are his people, and they used to be mine too. Reece is waiting for us by the door to the lunch room with a small grin on his face. He greets us kindly and kisses both of our hands.

“Hello ladies, right this way,” he points his hand towards the door.

“We are going outside?” Danni asks him before I can.

He walks backwards so he can look at us, “Yes we are, my friends and I eat in the courtyard not the cafeteria.”

“So we won’t be judged immaculately?” I asked sarcastically.

“I can’t promise you that, but I can promise you the vibes will be good. You will be judged in a ‘we think you rock and want to ask you to come back’ type of way” he says it almost like it’s been rehearsed.

He swings the door open revealing the lush green courtyard and 5 other people. They look up as we walk forward and Reece goes over to one of the other guys and hugs him roughly.

“Guys this is Danni and Lydia. Lydia, Danni, this is my crew. The red head laying down is Eve.” he introduces

“Sup kid” she nodded to me, she looked familiar, I think I had math with her last year.

“You're a junior like us aren’t you?” Danni asks for me.

“Yeah, I had math 3 with you last year” she responds.

“The guy laying on her stomach is Mack” Reece points.

“What’s good?” he says with his eyes closed.

“Then we have Olivia and Charles Mason, cousins.” Reece continues.

“Hey girls, call me Liv” she says, holding her hand out for me to shake then turning to Danni.

“Yeah and call me Chuck, Charles is too pretentious” he says while wrestling with Reece.

Reece gets out of a head lock, “and last but not least T.J.”

“Taylor Jackson nice to finally meet you,” she commented.

“Like Reece said my name is Lydia, and this is my friend Danni.” I say trying to keep all the names straight in my head.

Chuck puts his arms around Danni and I, “How did you meet our little Reecey poo here?”

“Actually Lydia is the one who met him, I am just here because she is my only real friend anymore.” Danni responds before I can.

“Yeah, so Reece and I met in English class today. I was arguing with Violet Davison and he interjected into our argument. We talked for a little while and he invited us to sit with you all at lunch today.” I explain.

The whole group of them seem to share a knowing look, leaving Danni, Reece and i in the dark on the context. Eve and Liv smile at each other having a silent conversation before they speak.

Eve is the one who says, “So you're the girl who made a big deal and left that Allison chick’s friend group last year?”

“Yeah that’s me, the ‘fallen’” I say.

Reece laughs at it, like I thought he would because he was in the class with me and was clearly listening to my conversation with Violet.

Danni looks at us confused with the rest of the group, “wait why is that funny?”

“It was just something Violet kept saying during second period,” I told her.

#writing #writers on tumblr #og #original post #original character #original #original writing #original work #story

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dassandre-00qpidsarrow · 1 year

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I posted 368 times in 2022

That's 16 more posts than 2021!

64 posts created (17%)

304 posts reblogged (83%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@boffin1710

@foxsoulcourt

@teamqbranch

@thestalwartheart

@bluebellofbakerstreet

I tagged 151 of my posts in 2022

#007 fest 2022 - 123 posts

#team q-branch - 90 posts

#dassandre - 71 posts

#qb-v4 - 61 posts

#qb-q10 - 57 posts

#mi6cafe - 53 posts

#boffin1710 - 42 posts

#teamqbranch - 31 posts

#00qfic - 26 posts

#no time to die fix-it - 26 posts

Longest Tag: 72 characters

#bruh i literally had to stop drafting my plate just to gif that new clip

My Top Posts in 2022:

00Q00 - Polyamory Day

Each year, James Bond, Alec Trevelyan, and The Quartermaster are posed questions about their polyamorous relationship that they respond to (albeit reluctantly at times) to help celebrate 007 Fest -- they’re big fans of the month, after all. This year the questions start out with “What is one of your best memories with your partner?” Below is James response to that question about Q and Alec, but be sure to check out the blogs of @boffin1710 and @notwhatyouthoughtiwas to get Q’s and Alec’s answers to that question, too.

See the full post

24 notes - Posted July 19, 2022

Scavenger Hunt Item #65

Draw a Bond character as an anime character.

Seeing as how I cannot draw my way out of a wet paper bag with a machete and a guide, I had to rely on an anime generator to do this, but I did choose the photo!

Just look at those lips and those ‘come hither, 007’ eyes! Is it any wonder that our ‘ship set sail that day?

Though I know only one counts for points, I did this one, too. Rather liked how it turned out.

See the full post

31 notes - Posted July 25, 2022

Bond Movie Crossword

This is a 007 Fest Scavenger Hunt Item:: Create a Bond-Themed Crossword. It’s not terribly challenging, but enjoy!

31 notes - Posted July 5, 2022

Ready to Fest - 2022

35 notes - Posted July 1, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Q Head Canon

James Bond isn’t the only casualty of war in No Time to Die, but whilst 007’s death in a hail of missiles leaves little opportunity for him to suffer, the same cannot be said of our dear Quartermaster, for his living death is slow and lingering and has left him a shadow of his former self. Though he’s as brilliant and inventive as he ever was, his youthful energy and pointed snark have been eaten away by the dark cancer of bureaucracy.

In Skyfall and Spectre Q gives as good as he gets and meets James’ sass with equal, if not robust, measure with lines like: “Put your back into it,” “Welcome to rush hour on the tube. Not something you’d know much about,” “So much for my promising career in espionage,” “Now you may feel a small … prick,” “It tells the time. Might help with your punctuality issues,” and “I believe I said, ‘Bring it back in one piece,’ not, ‘Bring back one piece.’”

He doesn’t back down with Bond at the Hoffler Klinik, starting their chat with “Well, not to worry, 007. It was only a £3,000,000 prototype,” and ending with, “I really, really hate you right now,” to say nothing about the conversation that started at all in front of The Fighting Temeraire. After all, Q set a whole ‘ship afloat with the bold retort, “Well, I'll hazard I can do more damage on my laptop sitting in my pyjamas before my first cup of Earl Grey than you can do in a year in the field.”

But by the time Bond returns to London five years after he walked away from everything on Westminster Bridge, Q’s cheeky banter is dead. Q’s best line in the whole of No Time to Die is his first one with the fittingly ironic, “So you’re not dead?” Bond insults Q’s cats and ruins his dinner plans, yet the best retorts he can devise are, “Well, it’s never 9:00 to 5:00, is it?” and “Can I just have one nice evening, please, before the world explodes?” Even when Q’s supposedly seeing his colleague for the first time in years in M’s office, he fumbles, “Oh, Bond. My God, I haven’t seen you in, in, uh… How is your retirement?” When have we ever seen Q stumble over his words in a surprising situation? Never. Even Mallory doesn’t buy it.

Q’s decline started with the long, tedious dismantling of Nine Eyes and has continued over the years under the pressure of Mallory’s slide into autocratic insanity where an abomination like Herakles was allowed to be conceived and flourish.

James Bond may have foolishly sacrificed himself on the altar of unrequited love, but his death is quick and painless. Q’s death is slow, debilitating, and, unless he leaves MI6, it will be never-ending. He will become a modern Prometheus whose liver is devoured daily by the eagle of MI6 bureaucracy.

52 notes - Posted July 3, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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dorimena · 3 years

Note

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚐𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚎𝚜 ₍₍٩( ᐛ )۶₎₎♪

𝚃𝚘𝚍𝚘𝚛𝚘𝚔𝚒 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚊 𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚍𝚐𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚗'𝚝 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚞𝚙 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚑𝚒𝚖 ( ·∀·)

𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚖

-🧸

I love this? I’m living for this saga, bless you 🧸 anon (//ω//) bless you and your emoticons

It came out of nowhere, the moment he decided not to let you easily take control.

It came without any warning, and you weren’t prepared to deal with bratty Todoroki.

He had his own ways of being a little shit, and they tend to be full of pettiness or sweet, saccharine sarcasm that you’re sure he’s learned from Bakugou or possibly Shinsou.

So the moment you come home to find he hasn’t done his share of the chores because ‘he felt lazy’ and ‘mommy should clean up after her baby’, maybe some snark you were too shocked to hear coming from him, you knew you just had to do something to put him in his place again.

“Tell mommy how much you love her.”

“L-love yo-you! ‘ove you s-s’much! Mmmmmuch!”

“Aww, you’re so nice. Tell mommy how sorry you are.”

“N-no! Nnngh~ Clo-close! Close, m-mommy!”

You slow down your hand, making sure to avoid the head as you keep stroking him towards the edge again, letting go of his red dick and making him sob loudly.

This is the 5th time you’ve brought him so close to cumming but never let him actually be satisfied. And even though he deserves it, he still thinks you're being unfair.

When you see his breathing even out, even just a bit, you bring your hand back on him and stroke, being sure to go slow but this time putting lots of attention to his sensitive head, hearing the squelch of the wetness provided by lube and his precum.

He’s shaking, shaking so violently that you’re not sure if it’s because of how close he is to cumming or the way his usual control of his body temperature is going crazy.

You coo as his right eye ignites a bit before it simmers while his left hand gripping on the couch is stabbing the poor cushions with ice.

“Please! Pl-please mo-ommy! ‘ll be good! For y-you! Pl-please let me cum!”

He’s pitifully whining, rolling his hips to speed things up, to persuade you to go faster, he doesn’t need much. Please, just please go a bit faster.

“But baby, you haven’t apologized.”

And you take your hand away again, raising an eyebrow as he thrashes on the couch, head shaking from side to side as his hands go to his sweater, looking like he’ll rip the fabric to shreds in frustration. His dick pushes out another few drops of precum, the poor member twitching constantly as it holds back it’s release.

Todoroki cries about how unfair you are, how mean you’re being, how you don’t deserve his respect or attention.

Until you rapidly move your palm against his head, and his squeak of surprise has him enter a state of shock, mouth opened as his eyes are just as wide, looking between you and your hand as his eyes question whether you’ll let him cum.

And as his moans reach a certain pitch and his eyes begin shutting, you pull away.

He can’t take it anymore!.

“SORRY!” He cries out, hunching over as the sensation of finally cumming begins leaving his system, instead desperation and eagerness pumping his heart. A hand is placed on yours, squeezing it as he whines out his apology, explaining why he was being a brat, what he did wrong, why he shouldn’t have done it.

You really couldn’t understand much, not with how he somehow slurred his words and jumped a few important connectors to make shit coherent.

“F-fuck me! Fu-huh-uck! Me!”

And your pretty boy pulls away from your hand, lying down on the couch and bringing his legs to his chest, fingers in his mouth as he begs in such a hushed, soft tone how he needs your cock to fill him up, to please fill him up, he needs it.

And you filled him up indeed, right there on the couch where he cums embarrassingly fast with a mewl of your naming fucked out of him.

You fuck him on the coffee table, thankful for how sturdy it was as you have his leg over your shoulder, making him cross-eyed as he feels himself being hit in places he’s never felt you touch before.

You fuck him on the floor, lying flat as you force him to ride you, aiming your thrusts upwards in time with his weak performance.

And when he cums with little spurts of cum littering your chest, you flip him over and fuck him doggy style in the carpet, pace unforgiving as he muffles his screams in the fluffiness below him, not caring if he drips onto the expensive carpet, not caring if you’ll have to hire someone to clean it for you, not caring if he wets it as he’s overstimulated beyond what he’s felt from being fucked.

#🧸 anon #🔥 Todoroki brain rot #✿; impurity #bnha smut #mha smut #todoroki smut #todoroki shoto smut #sub todoroki #sub bnha #ღ; sacrilege #𝖙𝖔𝖉𝖔𝖗𝖔𝖐𝖎.𝖘

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captainkurosolaire · 3 years

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22. Does your character have a mean streak?

Captain Kuro Solaire : No I am the stable epitome ov' rainbows. I'm always composed, calculated, and sweet. I don't see why you wouldn't want yer parents t' meet me despite they said otherwise, or your older sister... especially mother. I'm a good-role model, a paragon ov' light, hell's b' bells! I might as well friggin' b' Ser. Aymeric th' second. (OOC: Sarcasm obviously, he's a loose demented cannon. Takes just the right scenario and opposition for him to unleash his mean-streak, it varies, he's pretty tamed and suppressed often with snark or projecting. Cause his compassion is what brings death often in his line, better not to show thing's that give you 'value' just mean's it'll get taken or targeted first for exploitation, also a stigma that it's a weak flaw of his that's been brandished his bane. With a lot of vices, though you can suppress and be quite tame though. But eventually with the right harrowing trials, he'll continue showcasing just how sadistic and mean he can get again, probably cause it'll be required again for survival, he's a trained chameleon in all fields. Also, though compassion is the furthermost thing from something that isn't strong. Just stigma's and sterotype's are vile when comparing successes, and he's still learning. Appreciate all your wonders, @lukawarrioroflight

#asks answered

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j0elmill3r · 4 years

Text

Trust Fund Babies

Jacob Thrombey x Twin!Sister!Reader

Knives Out Masterlist

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: The Thrombeys being horrible, swearing, forced vomiting, sibling fights

A/N: Alright! I've been wanting to do stuff for Jacob T for a while and just never had the inspiration to do so, but I really wanted to do this! I've written this in 3rd person for a change, let me all know if you like this pov! I hope you all like this!

The Thrombey twins were incarnations of devils. Y/N and Jacob Thrombey were a lot of things, opinionated, brutal, horrible, spoiled, and in some way narcissistic. Most of their extended family couldn't stand them, even their parents, Donna and Walt didn't understand what they were talking about most of the time. While Jacob preferred causing the internet trouble, Y/N would be more likely to cause a fight in school simply by making up a tactical rumour and watching people hurt themselves. If one twin was pissed, the other would be 10x worse. The fighting and playful insults that came from them didn't mean a single thing, it was just regular sibling jokes. Y/N and Jacob were compared to the twins from 'The Shining', they often spoke at the same time and had the same actions, and most times it freaked out whoever was around them, and by God, they used it to their advantage. Family parties and functions were the highlights of their years, it was when they would be able to make fun of people and not get into trouble for it because their parents would be too drunk to care.

Y/N stared up at the colossal manor in front of her, a scowel etched onto her face. She could think of a million other places she would rather be than there, she would have to socialize and talk to people, since their aunt only turns 60 once and Walt and Donna won't let Y/N and Jacob stay home alone anymore. Walt and Donna had gone inside, leaving their son and daughter to their own devices outside, at least they wouldn't be able to upset anyone inside if they were outside.

"I don't think I'm emotionally prepared to go in here," Y/N said, watching as her brother came and stood beside her. Jacob laughed and nodded, turning to his sister.

"I heard Ransom's bringing his latest toy," He told her. Y/N grinned and chuckled, knowing she would be able to poke fun at Ransom and the predictable bimbo he would bring with him as a date. "Her name's like Veronica or something."

"Of course it is," Y/N said, only to be interrupted by the roar of her elder cousin's beloved Beamer. She hated that thing, if she had the chance, she would scratch the car up to holy hell, just to see the look of pure rage on Ransom's face. Y/N and Jacob stepped up onto the porch, knowing that if Ransom had the chance he would most definitely hit the two twins. The way that Ransom parked matched his personality, meaning he parked like an asshole. Ransom got out of his car and stared down the twins standing at the porch, their uniforms almost matching and their stares judging him. The blonde stepped out of the car, and Y/N couldn't help but snigger. Her predictions hadn't failed her, they were right.

"Oh my God, shut up," Jacob said, nudging his younger twin's side. She stopped and composed herself, watching as Ransom thudded up the stairs and took his shades off and put them in the pocket of his tan coat.

"Wow, I didn't know that the runts of the litter were coming," He snarked, standing in front of the two. His girlfriend came and stood beside him, stumbling on her stiletto heels. Y/N grimaced and looked her up and down, taking in the dress that barely covered her.

"Ransom, who's this? Bimbo number 38?" She asked him, tilting her head innocently. The blonde crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at the 15-year-old that stood in front of her.

"My name is Veronica," She introduced herself to the two. Y/N and Jacob thought that their ears were bleeding. Her voice was comparable to nails on a chalk board, it was quite simply unbearable.

"Funny you should say that, I don't remember asking, sandbags," Y/N commented, narrowing her eyes at the woman she would now be able to identify as 'Sandbags'. Ransom rolled his eyes and took Veronica away before she was getting driven to the police station for assualting a minor. "Of course her name was Veronica." Y/N turned to Jacob, who burst out laughing, putting his hands on his sister's shoulders.

"Where did you pull sandbags from?" He asked Y/N through his laughs. Y/N took his hands off of her school sweater and dropped them, letting him pull himself back together before heading into the house in front of them. "Jesus, that was great." He said.

"We should probably go in, Ransom's probably bitching to mom and dad," Y/N said, walking ahead of her brother and waiting for him to follow her. The twins walked into the house and immediately hated the atmosphere, well, not necessarily the atomosphere, more the people. "This is devasting, it's like The Walking Dead became a reality." Y/N mumbled. Y/N and Jacob sat by the stairs until thy were called for dinner. They sat beside each other, looking through their phones and ignoring the harsh stares of their parents.

"Y/N, Jacob, put your phones down, please," Walt said. Y/N and Jacob put their phones down simulataneously, glaring at their father. "There, was that hard?" He asked the twins rhetorically.

"How is school going?" Joni asked them both. They despised Joni and her daughter Meg, why were they still in the family when Neill died years ago? Y/N and Jacob looked across the table at Joni.

"Fine," They answered at the same time, just further convincing people that they were the twins from The Shining.

"All we hear from you is 'Fine', does nothing else happen other than you guys being literal trolls?" Meg said. Y/N smiled sweetly at her and Donna and Walt hid their faces in their hands, not wanting to see what their daughter was about to cause.

"Meg, in the politest way possible, I hope you die a slow horrible death," Y/N said, an innocent smile on her features. Ransom chuckled as she stood up and walked away from the table, Jacob's eyes following her as she left. Meg rolled her eyes and then looked back to Jacob, then making Jacob realize that everyone else was staring at him expectantly.

"What?" He said, furrowing his eyebrows and looking around.

"Jacob, go and get your sister, please," Donna said to her son. Jacob groaned quietly and left the table, grabbing his phone and then walking around to look for his sister. He wandered around for a few minutes before finding her sitting in one of the guest rooms, an agitated look on her face.

"What's your problem?" Jacob asked her, going to sit beside his sister. Y/N put her head on Jacob's shoulder, making him look down at her as she rested against her brother comfortably.

"I fucking hate this family. Except you, obviously," She said. "I just wanna go home, I don't wanna be around here for much longer." Jacob nodded and nudged Y/N's head up, making her groan and look at Jacob with a scowl on her face.

"Alright, let's go and tell mom and dad you wanna go," Jacob said. Y/N grimaced and raised her eyebrows.

"Like they'll actually take us home," She commented, laughing sarcastically. Jacob laughed and pulled her up to her feet. "I can just imagine what they'll say."

"We'll tell them that you're sick or something," Jacob said as he and his sister left the room and went into the bathroom across the hall.

"What are we doing here?" She asked him, looking at him with a look of confusion on her face.

"If you want them to believe you, it has to look believable. You ate, you can make yourself vomit," He said, acting as though he was stating the obvious. Y/N groaned as she got down on her knees and put on of her hands on the side of the toilet, Jacob stepping over his sister and pulling her hair back. She looked back up at him and glared at him hatefully.

"Are you seriously about to make me vomit?" She asked him. Jacob nodded and she rolled her eyes, turning back to face the toilet as she put two fingers down her throat to trigger her gag reflex. Y/N coughed and then felt an acidic feeling rising in her throat. Her head went forward as her stomach lurched, then coughing again and falling back onto the floor. "I fucking hate you sometimes."

"I know, but you wanna go home and you look like actual death, so if they don't believe you, you might be going down the stairs head first," Jacob said, moving away from Y/N to flush her vomit away. "Wash your hands and have some water, I'll wait outside for you." Jacob told her. She stood up and washed her hands in the sink, then gargling some water in her mouth to rinse the acidic taste from her mouth. She came out of the bathroom and Jacob had shed his blazer and handed it to her.

"What's this for?" She asked him, draping it over her shoulders.

"Authenticity, Y/N. Remember, you're freezing and feel like you're dying," He whispered to his sister as they walked down the stairs and into where everyone had moved to. Jacob had his arm around his sister as he led her to their parents. "We need to go home." Jacob deadpanned to Donna and Walt.

"Why? What's wrong?" Walt asked, looking at both of his kids.

"Y/N doesn't feel well," Jacob said, he had to give it to her, Y/N was a great actress. She was excellent at making herself look miserable, but maybe she wasn't acting that. "She brought up dinner upstairs when I went to go find her." He explained further. Donna stepped forward and looked at her daughter, an unsure look on her face.

"We probably shouldn't chance it, we should get her home," Donna said, turning back to Walt who was looking at Y/N and Jacob skeptically. He nodded anyway.

"Jesus, get off me you fat bitch!" Y/N yelled as she pushed Jacob off of her as she felt him sit down on her bed, sitting on her legs. Donna came into her room and stood in front of Y/N's bed, her arms crossed over her chest angrily. The twins looked up at their mom and tried their hardest to hide the grins that were slowly coming over their faces. Donna was never the one to discipline Y/N or Jacob, neither parents were very intimidating, but Walt had some form of authority and power over them. Donna, on the other hand, had no authority or control over either children, she could barely yell at them without having them burst out laughing in her face.

"Don't talk to your brother like that, Y/N," Donna warned the youngest. Y/N rolled her eyes and pulled Jacob's hair, making him groan. "Hey!" Donna yelled, pointing at Y/N.

"Yeah, Y/N. What the fuck?" Jacob rubbed his head as he glared at his sister. Donna glared at Jacob, warning him about his language as she left Y/N's room, leaving the twins on their own. Jacob waited until he was sure his mom was down the stairs before pulling his sister's hair, getting her into a headlock.

"Let me go you dick! Jacob!" Y/N yelled, thrashing around and trying her hardest to get out of Jacob's grip. She pulled on his, making him groan in pain as they ended up on the floor of Y/N's room. Y/N ended up on top of her brother, holding him down by his shoulders. It was just as well the Thrombey's had no neighbours, especially when Y/N and Jacob decided to act like this at midnight.

"Okay! I'll stop," Jacob said, pushing Y/N off of him. She landed on the floor beside him with a grunt, both of them laying on their backs. "I forgot how strong you were." He mumbled, making his sister laugh. Y/N laughed and punched her brother's shoulder.

"Don't forget it, consider it payback for making me vomit at Grandpa's house," Y/N said, standing back onto her feet and sitting back on her bed, Jacob following her actions and sitting beside her.

"Well at least I got you out of there!" Jacob defended himself. Y/N turned her head to face her brother, her face reading an unimpressed expression. "Why are you looking at me like that?" He asked her.

"Because I felt like shit for like 3 days after I put my fingers down my throat! That hurts," Y/N said, rubbing the sides of her neck. Jacob grimaced, did he actually hurt his sister?

"Are you sure you're okay?" He asked her, sitting up on his knees to sit facing her side. Y/N looked at him in concern and she nodded. "You should have said something, Y/N." Jacob said, moving your hands away from your neck in case you hurt them anymore. Jacob Thrombey might have been an asshole, but not when his little sister was hurt. Little sister might have been an overstatement, Y/N was only 22 minutes younger than him.

"Why are you playing mother hen?" Y/N asked him. "You're like 22 minutes older, calm the fuck down." She said, nudging him. Jacob laughed and then noticed Y/N yawning and rubbing her eyes tiredly, turning off her TV that was playing silently.

"I'll leave you to go to bed," He said, getting off of his sisters bed and pushing her down.

"You are such a dick," Y/N said, getting under her duvet and glaring at her brother as he left her room, turning the light off on the way out.

Permanent Taglist; Open!

@an-adventureland @demons-hunt @eviemarvel @avenging-natasha @bonkybarnes107 @this-kitten-is-smitten@justrandom02@lozzypoz321@herecomesthewriterwitch@tomms-h @40srogcrs@kashoot-me-now-please @ellehooo @rororo06 @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @bval-1 @marvel-ous-hobbit

#jacob thrombey #jacob thrombey x sister!reader #thrombey!reader #knives out #jaeden martell #jaeden wesley #jaeden lieberher #jaeden martell x reader #x teen!reader #x daughter!reader

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soveryanon · 3 years

Text

Reviewing time for MAG186!

- First episode not starring Jon this season! It had been precisely 30 episodes since the last time – Martin recording Adelard’s statement in MAG156.

… It’s the first episode only starring Martin, if I’m not wrong? In seasons 3 and 4, when he had recorded statements, there had always been a character at the periphery, pre or post-recording. Martin, you’re reaching protagonist status…

- I love that one of Martin’s first reflexes was still to call for Jon, in case!

(MAG185) MARTIN: Yeah, “my domain”, yes, right, I get it. Dream logic, and timing, heh, apparently! [STATIC FADES] [FAINT EERIE WIND SOUNDS] … Jon? Jon? [BAG JOSTLING] Oh… Shit.

(MAG186) [FOOTSTEPS ON GRAVEL OR DIRT, AS A LIGHT RAIN FALLS] [BAG JOSTLING] [FOOTSTEPS STOP] MARTIN: [SIGH] … So this is it, then. [SIGH] … How dreary… [FOOTSTEPS RESUME] [CALLING] Hello? Anybody? Jo–on? Hello! [FOOTSTEPS STOP] … Big surprise.

… And the small Martin commentaries make me fall in love with him even more, every time.

- Martin impacted by the Lonely house, uh.

(MAG186) MARTIN: Well, at least I can still remember everything this time – and no more of those bloody chairs… It’s weird, though. Never actually been anywhere like this. That said, it is kind of… Huh… […] ALSO MARTIN: Well… if you don’t count “memory manor”, when was the last time you were even on your own? […] “They sat around, on old chairs, comfortable chairs in the warm.”

I love that Martin remembered that place as: a loss of memory, a place he was truly on his own, and…

(MAG170) MARTIN: [CHAIR SCRAPES] Not a comfortable chair, of course…! No–none of them are, here, I’ve, I’ve been all over this house looking for a nice place to sit! I… think. … Is that what I was looking for? […] This… [CREAKING] This chair, oh! [CHAIR SCRAPES] Really isn’t comfortable. I had a look around for better places to sit. Did I… tell you that? [CREAKING] But it’s, it’s a big house. My house, I… think, eh! And nowhere comfortable. […] I just… [CHAIR SCRAPES] I wish I had comfortable chairs…! [INHALE] Would be nice to have somewhere relaxing to sit down…! […] All the cool poets love a bit of tape hiss, right? … Maybe find somewhere different to sit, though. [CHAIR SCRAPES] I hate these chairs…! I don’t even know where I got them. […] What was I saying? Ah, s–sorry. [CREAKING] [CHAIR SCRAPES] [GROAN] It’s just this chair, it’s so hard to concentrate when you’re uncomfortable, isn’t it? [SIGH] […] I, I had to go and have a sit-down, okay? I just… [SHUFFLING] [CHAIR SCRAPES] I just wish I had thought to buy some nicer chairs…!

… THIS DAMN UNCOMFORTABLE CHAIR.

(I’m pretty sure that Martin and Also Martin sat down a bit later, sound-wise, so it means that a random rock or a trunk or the plain ground still was most comfortable than those, given that Martin… didn’t complain.)

- Cries about the fact that Martin had never seen this place, yet it felt familiar:

(MAG186) MARTIN: It’s weird, though. Never actually been anywhere like this. That said, it is kind of… Huh… [VERY SHARP SQUEAL OF DISTORTION] [THERE IS A SLIGHT REVERB ON ALSO MARTIN’S FIRST WORDS AS HE APPROACHES] ALSO MARTIN: Wuthering Heights. MARTIN: Yeah…! God, I hated studying that. It was all just so… ALSO MARTIN: Overblown? MARTIN: Yeah…! [VERY SHARP SQUEAL OF DISTORTION FADE] ALSO MARTIN: But that cover… those wide, empty spaces. It felt right, didn’t it? MARTIN: … So, what? That’s where we are? ALSO MARTIN: Right down to the monochrome. MARTIN: Hm! … D’you have an umbrella? ALSO MARTIN: No. But… you don’t want one. We like the rain. MARTIN: True. ALSO MARTIN: Because it makes the sadness feel at home. It turns it from a burden into… MARTIN: [SIGH] … an indulgence. ALSO MARTIN: That’s right.

* It was his feelings from Wuthering Heights.

* CRIES about the fact that Martin mentioned it as “studying”: it was back when he was in middle or high school, then… and it made him sound so young? (It wasn’t a book he had picked and read for himself; it was something imposed when he was still studying… I mean, it’s absolutely normal to have memories of stuff you hated studying fifteen years later? But in Martin’s case, given that his studies were cut short, it felt like a forbidden peek at his forbidden, ephemeral past from before the Institute, and his reaction was so raw, so genuine…!)

* I’m noting that the Scotland safehouse honeymoon didn’t feel like this, if this place didn’t remind Martin of it! It wasn’t “monochrome” at all~

* Not surprised at all that Martin Kerosene Blackwood likes the rain. (Whispers in Patreon: there is a Martin poem about it!)

- The use of the “you”/“I” and “we” were delicious! Technically, it’s Martin who used “we” first (as a collective), but Also Martin used it to refer to a personality trait (“We like the rain”). I like how they finished each other’s sentences, how it was a back-and-forth between them while being slightly different through how they dealt with Martin’s overall situation (same things happening… but conflicting emotions about them), until they seemed to reach a consensus at the end, being more peaceful with each other? Martin ultimately taking a decision, and Also Martin being satisfied with it.

- Loving that the presence of Also Martin was partially due to Martin’s resistance to The Lonely:

(MAG186) MARTIN: So… what is this? You’re a part of me so you… know everything about me, is that it? ALSO MARTIN: … Yes. MARTIN: Because you’re part of my domain? ALSO MARTIN: Also yes. MARTIN: [SIGH] Some sort of… cosmic joke about “being alone with my thoughts”, I assume? ALSO MARTIN: I’m here because you’re trying very hard not to be alone. To resist the comfort. MARTIN: … So, instead I get to talk to myself. ALSO MARTIN: Apparently.

* I… love… Martin’s snark… (even if it tends to be a bit self-deprecative, and that part breaks my heart.)

* Martin had agreed with Jon that he wasn’t “lonely” anymore!

(MAG170) ARCHIVIST: [SOFTLY] … Okay. Okay, good. I, I just… I wanted to make sure that you knew what this place was. MARTIN: It’s The Lonely, Jon. It’s me. ARCHIVIST: [INHALE] Not anymore. MARTIN: Hm! No. [LONG INHALE, EXHALE] No…! Not anymore.

- Aaaah, I love how Martin was cautious about what the heck was this Also Martin, and why Jon was absent from this place!

(MAG186) MARTIN: [SIGH] … Okay, so, if I’m so desperate not to be alone… ALSO MARTIN: [EXHALE] MARTIN: Why isn’t Jon here? Hmm? He can find me anywhere. ALSO MARTIN: … I don’t know. MARTIN: [DUBIOUS] Oh, yeah? ALSO MARTIN: Look. I know what you know. Maybe I’m just a bit more… open about it. MARTIN: And what do you mean by that? ALSO MARTIN: Like how you don’t actually want him here? Maybe that has something to do with it? MARTIN: You’ve no idea what you’re talking about…! ALSO MARTIN: I mean, you can argue with me if you like. Seems like a bit of a waste, though. MARTIN: I… No, a– [STRAINED CHUCKLE] ALSO MARTIN: It’s all right. It’s hard to be vulnerable. MARTIN: [RESIGNED] No, it’s, it’s not that… ALSO MARTIN: No? MARTIN: No, I just… I’m ashamed to let him see this place, all right? To see what… I don’t know, what feeds me? ALSO MARTIN: Sure. That’s part of it, but… it’s not the whole thing, is it? Not really. MARTIN: What do you mean? ALSO MARTIN: Well… if you don’t count “memory manor”, when was the last time you were even on your own? MARTIN: W–well, I… Hmm. ALSO MARTIN: It has been a very long time since the Institute. MARTIN: That’s… a good point…! ALSO MARTIN: It’s okay to want a bit of space now and then. New romance is hard, and Armageddon makes it even harder! Never mind the fact that you’re metaphorically joined at the hip thanks to the whole “Eye-lord” thing. It’s okay to want some space. MARTIN: … Oooh, I see. ALSO MARTIN: See what? MARTIN: I get it. So that’s your deal: you tell me what I want to hear to try and get me to stay.

* Last times Martin had been isolated from Jon in a Lonely place, it had been because the Lonely was preying on him. Peter had thrown him into it in MAG158-MAG159, and the Lonely house had tried to make him stay in MAG170. It was very logical of Martin to be suspicious of Jon’s absence, and of what Also Martin’s intent was, when he knew from experience that The Lonely had tried to appeal to his desire for self-isolation:

(MAG159) ARCHIVIST: Yes! Yes, I–I am, c–come on, we’ve got to get out of here. MARTIN: [DISTANT, VOICE ECHOING] N–No. No, I don’t think so. ARCHIVIST: … Why? MARTIN: [DISTANT, VOICE ECHOING] This is where I should be. It feels right. ARCHIVIST: Martin, don’t say that. MARTIN: [DISTANT, VOICE ECHOING] Nothing hurts here. It’s just quiet. Even the fear is gentle here. […] Oh, hello, Jon. ARCHIVIST: Listen – I know you think you want to be here, I know you think it’s safer and w– … well, maybe it is… But we need you. I need you. MARTIN: [DISTANT, VOICE ECHOING] No, you don’t. Not really…! Everyone’s alone, but we all survive. ARCHIVIST: I don’t just want to survive! MARTIN: [DISTANT, VOICE ECHOING] I’m sorry.

(MAG170) MARTIN: Sometimes, I… wonder if I forget things on purpose….! Easier not to think about them, I guess. Easier to just… let them slip away. They can’t hurt you if you don’t think about them…! They can’t shout at you or call you names. […] I… I’m scared…! I think this fog is doing something to me, I can’t… [SHUFFLING] I’m losing myself, and I… and I don’t know if I mind? … Maybe I deserve it. So much of what’s behind the fog hurts. So much of it just makes me wanna curl up with pain and embarrassment and… Maybe the fog’s here because I want it here. Is that why I opened the windows…? Maybe I asked the fog to come.

* I love how Martin and Jon are similar on some aspects… Jon mentioned his own shame of being Beholding’s favourite in this new world:

(MAG166) MARTIN: Sure! Okay, that’s… I mean, that’s really not that complicated, Jon – I don’t see why you were being so coy about it! ARCHIVIST: [OVERLAPPING] Because I’m ashamed, Martin. MARTIN: … “Ashamed”? ARCHIVIST: Yes! Ashamed of the fact that I… destroyed the world and have been rewarded for it; the fact that… I can walk safe through all this horror I’ve created like a fucking tourist, destroying whoever I please; the fact that I… enjoyed it, and… the fact that there are… so many others, that I still want to revenge myself on! [EXHALE]

… Just like Martin himself is ashamed of feeding on people’s suffering (and how Jon, himself, had felt guilty and ashamed of hurting people in season 4).

* I love that the episode highlighted all the complex and intertwined feelings inside of Martin? He was both stopping Jon from being there because of his shame, and because despite it all, it was a safe space, somewhere that Jon could access. Martin had already expressed his desire for privacy (asking Jon to not know about his thoughts), and I like how there was also this part of him wishing to be alone from time to time – especially since he went from roughly one year of isolation (season 4) and dealing with The Lonely to being around Jon almost all the time. Wanting a bit of space usually would be healthy, when reasonable! But the apocalypse is indeed not ideal for a new relationship, doesn’t leave them with an ideal option anymore; Jon&Martin have been together almost all the time, and they’ve done what they could given the circumstances… (And as a new couple, given said circumstances, they’ve objectively been doing amazing: sometimes conflicting, but able to talk things through.)

- I Worry about the few mentions of time this episode:

(MAG186) ALSO MARTIN: It has been a very long time since the Institute. […] “And it is this that she is so deeply afraid of. Not the ache of her flesh from the bitter cold, not the cloying dampness of the rain, or the crushing fatigue from uncounted days, or weeks, or years without sleep.”

Were these hyperboles? Time feeling long, and thus being long? Or has that much time “objectively” passed since The Change…? We’ve seen in Salesa’s bubble that there could still be an objective time with the light changing due to the sun, I wonder if it’s still possible to count the days in there…

- Forget the “You don’t have to fear The Hunt to be trapped here… but it helps!” mug, I want a “New romance is hard, and Armageddon makes it even harder!” shirt.

- I love how the statement did such a good job at showing the conflicting things forming Martin? Not liking Wuthering Heights, but feeling like the scenery resonated with him; feeling disgust when discovering the Oolong tea and associating it to bad memories, but still sipping and asking for refills; having conflicted emotions about his mother…

(MAG186) ALSO MARTIN: … It wasn’t your fault. MARTIN: Yes it was. ALSO MARTIN: That’s just the guilt talking. MARTIN: Oh! You think? ALSO MARTIN: She was awful. MARTIN: She wasn’t well! ALSO MARTIN: Both things can be true…! MARTIN: She was still my mum! Or, “our” mum… Whatever! ALSO MARTIN: [EMPHATICALLY] And we’re glad she’s dead. MARTIN: Jesus…! ALSO MARTIN: Too much? Like I said, I’m a bit more open.

… And having one Big Certainty still, something both Martin immediately agreed on – that he loved Jon.

(MAG183) MARTIN: … I’m sure I love you. [FOOTSTEPS] ARCHIVIST: I love you too. [FABRIC RUSTLES] Let’s go.

(MAG186) ALSO MARTIN: Between us, that guy’s got some real issues. MARTIN: Hey! Pretty sure we love “that guy”…! ALSO MARTIN: [EXHALE] Yeah. And all his many, many problems.

Martin(s)!!!

- I’m SO glad about the “She was awful.” “She wasn’t well!” “Both things can be true…!” exchange because… yes!! She was sick and got abandoned by her husband! She still forked her child over! (And the biggest problem, as far as the system goes, the fundamentally messed up thing… is that Martin had to care for her as a teenager, and find a job to help them survive when he was 17.)

I love that Martin was aware of both things – that she didn’t treat him well, that she deeply hurt him… and also, well. That she was sick. And that despite her sickness he doesn’t have to forgive her for any of that, that he can be vindictive and relieved of her death because it removed a weight from him. He had vaaaaguely mentioned it to Jon back in season 4:

(MAG129) ARCHIVIST: I, er… I heard about your mother. MARTIN: … Yeah. ARCHIVIST: I am… so sorry. [SILENCE] MARTIN: Thank you. [INHALE] It’s… [SHAKY EXHALE] It’s better, this way. ARCHIVIST: If–if you do need to talk, I– MARTIN: I can’t.

(Still: “Jeeeesus.” indeed because Also Martin was ABSOLUTELY savage.)

- Sobbing that Martin’s tea was… also such an ambivalent thing:

(MAG186) MARTIN: There’s nothing wrong with comforting people. ALSO MARTIN: A cup of tea isn’t a resolution. At best it’s a… a plaster; at worst… a muzzle. MARTIN: Yeah. Yeah. … Even so, I could murder a cuppa. I doubt you’ve got a kettle out here though. ALSO MARTIN: As a matter of fact, I do have a thermos. [A BAG IS UNZIPPED] [SHUFFLING] MARTIN: You’re joking! ALSO MARTIN: This is our domain. You’re not supposed to suffer here. Well. Not like the others. [A METAL FLASK IS UNSCREWED] You know what I mean. [ELONGATED SOUND OF TEA POURING] Here. [FLASK IS RESEALED] MARTIN: [SIPS] [DEEP SIGH] Wait, that’s… Wait, is that…? ALSO MARTIN: Yeah. Sorry about that. There’s only so much we can do, what with the “new world” and everything. Even the good things get tinged with memory. MARTIN: [SIPS] Urgh! Oolong. Oh, of course, of course! Whenever I asked a question she didn’t like, or she wanted to stop the conversation… ALSO MARTIN: … off you’d go to put the kettle on. MARTIN: And it always had to be that bloody oolong. Urgh! [ANOTHER SIP] Bleurgh. [SILENCE BUT FOR THE RAIN]

Back in season 3, Basira had accused Martin of trying to keep the status quo through his offers of tea… and welp, Martin was already aware, from personal experience, uh. Sobbing a bit that tea was associated with silencing, deflection and trying to avoid unpleasant situations in Martin’s mind – while for Jon, in season 4, it was associated with Martin, meaning comfort.

(I wonder if we’ll hear about Martin’s teabags at some point? He had mentioned packing some in MAG162…)

- Aaaaaah, it felt SO GOOD to finally hear what Martin had been bottling up ;_;

(MAG186) ALSO MARTIN: Don’t lie. You don’t need to, not here. It’s just us! MARTIN: [HEAVY SIGH] If we’re glad, why do I feel so… ALSO MARTIN: Guilty? Because you feel guilty about everything. MARTIN: That’s… That’s not– ALSO MARTIN: Your mother. MARTIN: Stress is a proper factor in a stroke– ALSO MARTIN: Everything that’s happened to Jon. MARTIN: I brought Jane Prentiss to the Institute! ALSO MARTIN: The end of the entire world? MARTIN: If I’d done what Peter had asked… If, if I’d not chickened out, and just killed Elias when I had the chance…! ALSO MARTIN: Really? Really, that’s how you’re choosing to remember it? “Chickening out”? MARTIN: I remember it was the wrong choice…! ALSO MARTIN: You choose to remember it that way, and so the guilt– MARTIN: [SIGH] I–I get it, all right? But I need it, I, I choose the guilt, because… ALSO MARTIN: [LEADING] “Because”? MARTIN: Because it motivates me to do better! ALSO MARTIN: … Does it though? Or… does it just keep paralysing us, make us shrink back and wait, hoping things work out? Like with Jon when we thought the worms had got him. MARTIN: Hey, to be fair, he still kind of hated me back then. I’m really not sure it would have been the best time to take my shot.

* We now know that Martin’s mom died from a stroke… shortly after Elias had told/made Martin known how much his mother hated him and why, so of course Martin would connect the dots and link it to the stress of… Martin’s existence reminding her of the man who had abandoned her.

* ;_; Jane/The Hive had explicitly mentioned Jon as her/their target once Martin had left his flat:

(MAG022) ARCHIVIST: [PHONE BUZZES] Hang on. MARTIN: What? ARCHIVIST: I just received another text message. From you. “Keep him. We have had our fun. He will want to see it when the Archivist’s crimson fate arrives.”

And it had been Jon’s first mark at the Institute, Jane had deeply traumatised him for most of the series (Jon was still mentioning her in season 4!), and Martin had felt like he had abandoned Jon when he had lost Tim&Jon behind during the attack…

* !! Confirmation that Martin’s obsession with killing Elias… is likely due to the fact that he felt like he picked the “wrong” choice back in the Panopticon, and that it directly led to the end of the world – it caused Jon’s last mark, thus making him ready for Elias’s ritual, while if they had killed Elias back then, no more Elias, and no big apocalypse unless someone else figured out how to achieve that. I’m so glad that we finally got a look at Martin’s thoughts regarding those events? That Martin feels like he made a mistake back then?

(* I’m noting that Martin keeps going with “Elias”, never “Jonah”, these days.)

* I love that, same with Jon in season 4 regarding his victims, “guilt” appears in two ways: motivation for improvement (thanks to the acknowledgement that there was a wrongdoing), but also… restraining action (with the fear of doing wrong again). They’re not mutually exclusive!

- SOB IN MARTIN’S FANTASIES:

(MAG186) ALSO MARTIN: But also, you know that’s not what I’m talking about. It’s this… this fantasy that you have, that, that whatever you find at the top of the Panopticon is just going to solve everything. MARTIN: I don’t– ALSO MARTIN: You do though – you daydream about it! The big climactic showdown with Elias, and then the two of you kiss, and push a button that just magically saves the world and makes everything better. MARTIN: … It’s actually not a button, so… ALSO MARTIN: Stop. Deflecting.

So: Martin is aware that it’s probably not going to be this easy! That they have no certainty of succeeding! That it’s just a “fantasy”! And yet, he chose to appear optimistic in front of Jon, making them focus on the Panopticon as a solution.

(Also, Martin has kissing fantasies involving Jon, Martin please.)

- I! Love! Martin’s snark!

(MAG186) ALSO MARTIN: [WEARILY] Seriously? [INHALE] Fine. If you don’t want to engage, if–if you want to pretend I’m just some… “temptation ghost”, you go ahead. Knock yourself out. Like I said, I’m not your enemy. MARTIN: [ARCHLY] Oh really? I thought you said you were me? ALSO MARTIN: Right, yes. Very clever. MARTIN: We have our moments. I guess. […] MARTIN: … I can be a real manipulative prick, you know that? ALSO MARTIN: Oh yeah. […] MARTIN: Thanks for the tea. ALSO MARTIN: Hm! We’re welcome. MARTIN: Ha!

But also: aouch for the first one, MARTIN…

- I’m so glad about Martin confronting potential scenarios, and how likely it is to be unpleasant…

(MAG186) ALSO MARTIN: I’m saying there aren’t any easy solutions. We have no idea what’s going to happen. Even if we make it to the tower, we don’t know there’ll be a fix. And if by some miracle there is, we both know the price will be awful. Just look at Melanie. MARTIN: I… [RESIGNED SIGH] ALSO MARTIN: We are completely out of our depth. We’re responsible for everyone everywhere, and we have no idea what we’re doing. The last thing we need is self-indulgent guilt on top of that. […] MARTIN: So. This price. What do you think? Are we going to have to kill Jon? ALSO MARTIN: … I don’t know, because you don’t know. But… it seems like something we should at least consider. MARTIN: … I… have thought about it, and… I won’t. I, I don’t think I could…! ALSO MARTIN: Mmhmm. MARTIN: But anything else? Any other price? I’ll pay it. ALSO MARTIN: Even dying? MARTIN: Yeah! ALSO MARTIN: Jon’s as bad as we are. He wouldn’t let it happen. MARTIN: It’s not his decision. ALSO MARTIN: Fine. So flip that round, then. What are you going to do when he tries to sacrifice himself, because you know he’s going to try? MARTIN: I don’t know all right? [SIGH] I don’t know. ALSO MARTIN: And that’s okay for now, but I just want us to have thought about this stuff properly before it comes up. Because even if that’s not it, chances are it’ll be something else you don’t want to do, and we need to make a proper choice. We can’t just react out of shame or fear or whatever.

* I wonder how Martin lived Melanie gouging her eyes out? She had mentioned leaving a resignation letter on Peter’s desk, it’s likely that Martin actually was the one to find and read it. Jon initially had offered Martin the possibility to run away with him through cutting their connection to The Eye, and Martin had refused, arguing that Jon didn’t want to do it; I wonder if Melanie carrying that action… made Martin realise that he wasn’t ready to do this to himself?

* Mmmm, with that Melanie mention and Martin making a choice of his own at the end of the episode… I wonder if it’s installing Melanie’s return very soon…?

* SOB over the fact that Martin is absolutely ready to self-sacrifice, no hesitation.

* … And that his personal limit is that he can’t kill Jon.

* … Meanwhile: it’s likely the same for Jon; would agree to die if it can turn the world back, and absolutely refuse to kill Martin. Aouch.

- I loved how overall, the episode was about the fact that Martin was aware that he had choices and options, and trying to establish which things he would absolutely refuse, and what he would prefer? And given that Martin had to acknowledge (with himself) these things, say them out loud, and that Annabelle was clearly waiting for something from him… Was she waiting for this? For Martin to be clear that his limit would be to have to kill Jon, but that he would be ready to grab any other option? It sounds like it would be the best moment for her to come back with another option requiring Martin’s sacrifice, then… (And they’re heading towards the Panopstitute, and Peter had explained to Martin how to take Elias’s seat in there – killing him, and then Martin, as double Eye&Lonely, would be able to become the new centre. I wonder if we’re heading towards that…)

- Jon had already warned Martin that he wouldn’t be able to see his victims:

(MAG183) ARCHIVIST: Do you want me to tell you about it? MARTIN: No. … Yes. N–no, no, I don’t know, I don’t know. [SIGH] [STATIC RISES] ARCHIVIST: It’s a small domain. A swirling mix of The Eye and The Lonely. Inhabited by a few lost souls whose fear is not of their isolation or their agonies, but that no-one… will ever know of them. That they shall suffer in silence, and be mourned by nobody. That’s why you can’t really see it. It’s why even if we do travel through it, you won’t be able to see… any of the people trapped there.

(MAG186) MARTIN: … What about the people here? ALSO MARTIN: What people? MARTIN: I don’t know. My… “prisoners”, I guess? ALSO MARTIN: What about them? MARTIN: Why haven’t we talked about them? ALSO MARTIN: Because you didn’t want to think about them. So, we didn’t. MARTIN: Yeah? Well… I want to now. Consider it a “proper choice” if you like. ALSO MARTIN: Okay. MARTIN: Can I see them? ALSO MARTIN: No. This place is about hidden, unnoticed suffering. MARTIN: I can feel them though. ALSO MARTIN: Sure, you’re aware of it, dimly. A sort of far-off, lonely terror. But there’s no way for us to actually see or hear them. MARTIN: … Hmm.

I like how Also Martin was more straightforward when summarising the domain (“hidden, unnoticed suffering”). It… immediately felt like, ah. Yes. This is Martin’s domain indeed. Martin, who lied on his CV and felt like he couldn’t confide to many (he had only told Tim), who couldn’t really talk about his mother, nor about her death, and who got more and more isolated when Jon was in his coma, who continued isolating in order to manage Peter during season 4. That’s indeed a place tailored for him…

I was wondering how Martin’s domain worked as a “swirling mix of The Eye and The Lonely” (MAG183) given how Jon’s description made it sound like a very Lonely domain, so I was wondering about The Eye part. I get it now – it’s because the domain relies on the victims being crushed by the knowledge of what is happening. Jon himself had highlighted how The Eye and The Lonely could be working closely in that regard:

(MAG159) ARCHIVIST: The Lonely and The Eye aren’t too far apart, are they? Not really. What good’s being alone if you don’t know how alone you truly are.

(MAG186) ALSO MARTIN: “The rain pricks his skin though there is no comfort in it. Because he knows he can never be warm and dry again. The wall is too high. […] She could reach out her hand, touch his arm, his face, his heart… and would feel nothing. Neither would ever know. Because at their core, they are alone, and nothing can release them from that absolute knowledge. […] And it is this that she is so deeply afraid of. Not the ache of her flesh from the bitter cold, not the cloying dampness of the rain, or the crushing fatigue from uncounted days, or weeks, or years without sleep. It is the sure knowledge that nobody remembers her existence enough to even wonder idly where she might be, or ponder at her suffering.

… And usually, it would feel like it’s The Lonely deceiving the victims, making them think that their situation is hopeless? But in the new world, it’s also… a reality, since nothing can be changed as of now.

- Jon has kept hammering in that there is no “better” in this new world and we got another reminder, when it comes to the relationship between rulers and victims:

(MAG173) ARCHIVIST: I don’t know what you want me to do! MARTIN: I want you to use your power, I want you to help them, I want you to make things better! ARCHIVIST: There – is – no – “better” anymore. MARTIN: You keep saying that, and I hate it!

(MAG178) ARCHIVIST: No one gets what they deserve. Not in this place. They just get whatever hurts them the most! … Even me.

(MAG184) ARCHIVIST: I’m still not sure what to do about Jordan. MARTIN: I mean… What can we do, really? You’ve been pretty clear there’s no way for us to help the people who are trapped here as victims so… so we leave him here like all the others, and eventually we save everyone! […] ARCHIVIST: I helped you. JORDAN: “Helped me”? I don’t feel right, I, I just– [HISSING SOUND] [GASP] No, I don’t– [HISSING SOUND] I don’t want this!

(MAG186) MARTIN: … Hmm. But… if this is my domain… can I fix that? Like, can I change things? ALSO MARTIN: [EXHALE] If you wanted to start actively tormenting them… I’m sure this place would oblige. But “fixing” things? Making it easier on them, or freeing them… probably not. MARTIN: Fine. […] I can’t live on the misery of others. ALSO MARTIN: … They’ll suffer either way. MARTIN: I get it, okay? I, I can’t decide what happens to them, but… I just might be able to decide what happens to me, and… and if it comes down to it?

Glad that Martin still asked whether he could change something for the better, even if the answer was negative. Back when the Spider had referred to Jon (MAG172: “Oh, Francis… It’s such a shame, but I couldn’t do such a thing even if I wanted to! The man in the audience saw to that! [CHUCKLES] I am no more free than you are, little puppet.”), it had felt like absolute cruel gaslighting, but there was still a bit of truth to that in the sense that Watchers… are playing a role, “performing” for The Eye (MAG166: “But The Eye still rules. All this fear is being performed for its benefit. And so, there are now exactly two roles available in this new world of ours: the watcher, and the watched. Subject, and object.”). Once again, the core of the problem in that apocalypse is not even the localised rulers; it’s the whole system, the domains and the Fears themselves.

- I love that Martin still wanted to ask about his victims, to know what was happening.

(MAG186) MARTIN: Why haven’t we talked about them? ALSO MARTIN: Because you didn’t want to think about them. So, we didn’t. […] MARTIN: … Can you tell me about them? ALSO MARTIN: I can. Deep down we do know what’s happening to them. MARTIN: … Do we know who they are? ALSO MARTIN: We never met them in the old world. […] MARTIN: … Tell me. Please. Like Jon would. ALSO MARTIN: Why? Just so you can torture yourself? MARTIN: I want to know the exact limits of my guilt. ALSO MARTIN: … Fair enough.

He had accepted his journey (MAG183: “What, what? We could, we could dodge around it? Take the path of denial? I guess, but… what is it you keep harping on about? ‘The journey will be the journey’? [SIGH] I mean… It’s pretty obvious that this one is my journey.”), so he accepted this unpleasant part of it, too. And I like how it’s a part of himself who explained what was happening to them, not Jon? Because fundamentally, it was Martin’s domain, with victims who were partially his responsibility (he didn’t want them, but it’s a fact that they’ve been sustaining him and their suffering has been protecting him from all the other horrors). I like the use of “we” from Also Martin, to point out that deep down, Martin knew about it already, that it was just about putting into words, that Martin wanted to understand what he already felt guilty of?

And Martin not only stayed for a statement, he asked for it! Last time had been in the Dark domain (MAG173: “Tell me about this place. … I need to know.” “I thought you hated listen– … [INHALE] Are you… sure that’s what you want?” “Of course it’s not…! But I need to hear it.”): this time again, it felt like Martin was agreeing to stop running away or trying to ignore what was happening around him… and at the same time, it’s true that it’s a difficult balance to establish. Where are the limits between voyeuristic tendencies (seeing pains and sufferings exposed, while aware that you won’t do anything to make it stop because you can’t do anything in this world anyway) and accepting to face the horribleness of the world (needing to listen and see, to know what is truly happening in order to make an informed judgement, or get the motivation to try to change things)?

- OOFT, the victims mentioned sounded like a very Martin’s-subconscious thing indeed? Also Martin highlighted that for a “Tim”:

(MAG186) ALSO MARTIN: We never met them in the old world. Although… one of them is named Tim. [BAG JOSTLING] Just a coincidence, I think. Unless it was a subconscious thing on our part.

… but seriously, all of them. We had:

* A “Tim”. Given Martin’s complicated relationship with him in season 3, the fact that Tim had ultimately established he couldn’t trust Martin to be Martin because he didn’t “know Martin as well as [he] knew [Sasha]” (MAG114) even though Martin had been comfortable enough with Tim to share with him that he had faked his CV (MAG162: “Okay, but seriously, you cannot let Martin know. He’ll think I told you, and I swore to keep schtum.”), the way Martin had interrupted himself when thinking about him in (MAG138: “Tim said the tunnels under the Institute were all that was left of it, but… Jon said he’d checked them pretty thoroughly. [SILENCE] [SIGH] I’m not the one who knows all about this stuff…! I wish– … No. No, it’s fine, I’m… fine, I… [EXHALE] I can do this.”) and had stopped Peter when he mentioned him in (MAG158: “I’m sure– … what was his name? … Tim! Tim would–” “I’d really– … rather not talk about it, Peter.”)… everything about Tim had hurt.

* The woman in the statement was someone who was forgotten by everyone else (“And it is this that she is so deeply afraid of. Not the ache of her flesh from the bitter cold, not the cloying dampness of the rain, or the crushing fatigue from uncounted days, or weeks, or years without sleep. It is the sure knowledge that nobody remembers her existence enough to even wonder idly where she might be, or ponder at her suffering.”)… which sounds like what happened to Sasha when she got killed and replaced by the Not!Them. Dead, and nobody to notice that she was dead, nobody to remember her.

* The man in the statement had a “cold” family, liked to walk the streets at night (“He would walk the streets of the city at night and wish the world away”) just like Peter in his youth (MAG159: “By the time I arrived at whatever destination I had arbitrarily picked, it would usually be night. I would walk around the darkened streets, drinking in the sodium orange, looking at the lit windows of the tower blocks that surrounded me, each one a small cosy den of warmth and humanity, and revelling in my distance from them.”). Even the mention of “taking” someone as a partner (“Sometimes, when the emptiness inside began to bite, he reached out for people and took a friend or a lover. But when he did, it was only to watch them beat themselves again, and again against that wall, until they finally relented, and he was alone once more.”) reminded me a bit of Peter “taking” victims to sacrifice them to The Lonely? And Martin’s victim used to self-convince himself that it was better this way (“He told himself it was for the best. He told himself he liked it like that.”), just like Peter was groomed into becoming a Lonely avatar by the rest of the family.

Martin has Types of people, uh.

- It was a terribly beautiful statement, imagery-wise, with feelings and sensations becoming real under nightmare-logic: the man’s own voice not being answered and instead increasing his pain and isolation, the woman’s memories rewriting fond moments into proof of her lack of connection (“The carefree chatter of her friends surrounded her, and soothed her. Or did it…? She wasn’t talking, wasn’t engaged with any of the bright and happy people. Her smile was fixed and deliberate, and it didn’t quite match her eyes. She was among this joy, yes, these sparkling friends, but she was not a part of it, not really. She tried to be, wanted so desperately to be a part of their easy warmth, and maybe they thought she was…! But they hadn’t known her, not really.”)… I was in this domain, too :<

And once again, it really felt like Martin: desperate for connection, usually not taken into account, not heard, misunderstood, just like he had hid parts of himself at the Institute…

- Martin still pointing out that he didn’t “deserve” this didn’t feel anymore like he was clinging to a form of innocence like last episode:

(MAG186) MARTIN: … Thank you. ALSO MARTIN: I’m sorry. I know it’s hard. MARTIN: … Yeah. [SILENCE BUT FOR THE RAIN] ALSO MARTIN: So. What are we thinking? MARTIN: [EXHALE] I’m thinking that I didn’t ask for this. It’s not my fault they’re here…! ALSO MARTIN: True. MARTIN: But I can’t keep existing like this at their expense! It’s not… it’s not right. Whatever happens with Elias, wi–, with the rest of the world… I can’t live on the misery of others. ALSO MARTIN: … They’ll suffer either way. MARTIN: I get it, okay? I, I can’t decide what happens to them, but… I just might be able to decide what happens to me, and… and if it comes down to it? ALSO MARTIN: [SIGH] MARTIN: … I’ll get Jon to destroy me like the others.

I like that it was both treated as a valid feeling… and also not the endgame: this time around, Martin fully accepted the situation and reached a conclusion regarding it. He could have chosen to accept it, but no, he chose to reject it and to make his own choice, what he felt was his best option.

I love the various decisions we’ve seen, and how it doesn’t feel like there is a Right One to make? Jordan chose that he preferred to be a ruler rather than being turned back into a victim – and we can’t blame him! And Martin chose that, if there is no solution to this world, he would rather stop being there than living with the knowledge that he’s fine-ish thanks to other people’s pain in this special case in which they can do nothing about it. Once again, I’m reminded of what Martin had told Simon (MAG151: “I think our experience of the universe has value. Even if it disappears forever.”), of the impression that… tiny choices, tiny decisions, still have their importance even if they don’t change anything on the cosmic scale.

- I love how we could indeed hear Martin’s resolve in the evolution of how he was mentioning his status, from reject, disgust, laments and sadness, to… his choice and decision:

(MAG183) HELEN: I can’t believe you would deny him the choice to see his own domain. MARTIN: My… my wha– Jon, my what? ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] I was going to bring it up at the crossroads. Inside. I only just realised we would be going this way. MARTIN: I have a domain? ARCHIVIST: Yes. […] MARTIN: Are there people, Jon? ARCHIVIST: What? MARTIN: Are there people in my domain? ARCHIVIST: Not many. [SILENCE] MARTIN: Do you need to do your… your thing? Make a statement about whatever’s going on in there? … I could use a moment to think. […] How do I have a domain? That doesn’t make any sense. ARCHIVIST: It’s like I said. [INHALE] Everything here is either watcher, or watched. MARTIN: [SIGH] Subject or object, yes, I know, we’ve been over this. ARCHIVIST: Well, you’re a watcher, Martin. You worked for the Institute, you read statements, The Eye is… fond of you. You’re not getting thrown into your own personal hell, which means… MARTIN: [QUIETLY] That one of them belongs to me. But that’s… Ho–how can I be a “Watcher”? I, I didn’t even know it existed! ARCHIVIST: But you’ve suspected for a while now, haven’t you? MARTIN: Maybe? But that’s not “watching”! ARCHIVIST: Do you want me to tell you about it? MARTIN: No. … Yes. N–no, no, I don’t know, I don’t know. [SIGH] […] But I’m not an avatar!

(MAG185) MARTIN: [INHALE] And this is all because I’ve been given a domain? Because, apparently, I somehow have people’s fear feeding me? ARCHIVIST: Well… feeding The Eye through you, but yes. MARTIN: Even though I didn’t ask for it? Did nothing to deserve it? ARCHIVIST: “Deserve”, huh! Now there’s a word that always causes trouble. MARTIN: [HUFF] Don’t be patronising. ARCHIVIST: I just mean that nobody here deserves the position they’ve found themselves in, not really. I suppose a few may have asked for it, sought it out even, but far more didn’t. They just made the wrong choices for the… right reasons, or even the right choices. But ones that still led them here in the end. MARTIN: … I hate it. ARCHIVIST: On balance, that’s… probably a good thing. […] MARTIN: … I guess we should get used to it. Knowing that all these awful things are happening for our benefit…! ARCHIVIST: Maybe it’s better if it never gets comfortable. MARTIN: Maybe.

(MAG186) ALSO MARTIN: So. What are we thinking? MARTIN: [EXHALE] I’m thinking that I didn’t ask for this. It’s not my fault they’re here…! ALSO MARTIN: True. MARTIN: But I can’t keep existing like this at their expense! It’s not… it’s not right. Whatever happens with Elias, wi–, with the rest of the world… I can’t live on the misery of others. ALSO MARTIN: … They’ll suffer either way. MARTIN: I get it, okay? I, I can’t decide what happens to them, but… I just might be able to decide what happens to me, and… and if it comes down to it? ALSO MARTIN: [SIGH] MARTIN: … I’ll get Jon to destroy me like the others. ALSO MARTIN: You don’t really believe he’d do it? MARTIN: I don’t know. Maybe? ALSO MARTIN: … This took a dark turn. MARTIN: Yeah, but… this time it doesn’t feel like despair. [BAG JOSTLING] It feels like resolve. ALSO MARTIN: Well… hopefully it won’t come to that. MARTIN: Hopefully.

Martin tried to manoeuvre around the concept first, wondering whether he could alleviate the suffering for his victims, and being told no because the world doesn’t work like that (“But… if this is my domain… can I fix that? Like, can I change things?” “If you wanted to start actively tormenting them… I’m sure this place would oblige. But ‘fixing’ things? Making it easier on them, or freeing them… probably not.”). I’m glad he did wonder about it first – but since it’s not a possibility… he reached his other conclusion, that he would rather ask Jon to annihilate him if there is no option to save the world, rather than living on their pains.

It’s interesting that Martin didn’t consider another option: to be turned from Watcher into Watched. That process was what killed Not!Sasha, Jude, Jared and Breekon (MAG166, Helen: “And for those of us whose very existence relies on being feared, well… To be turned into a victim destroys us utterly. And very, very painfully.”) but Jon had mentioned the option to Jordan (MAG184: “I can put you back if you want. You could become a victim again? Rather than complicit.”), so… is Martin too deep in as an avatar to survive that process, or did he just not mention that option because he didn’t think about it or didn’t want it anyway? I would understand Martin refusing to be turned into a victim for eternity because he deems it the worst possible option, I’m just a bit curious that he didn’t even mention it at all, even to immediately reject it.

- … Martin making that choice and accepting to die rather than being complicit… reminds me a lot of Melanie and her decision to stop feeding The Eye, and then to sacrifice her eyes to free herself from the Institute and Beholding.

(MAG150) MELANIE: Look. [INHALE] I’m not going to do my job anymore. ARCHIVIST: … I am not sure I follow, you–you know we… we can’t… quit, we’ve all tried. MELANIE: I didn’t say I was going to quit. I said: I’m not going to do my job. No researching; no filing; no… field trips. Nothing that is going to help the Institute in any way. I’ll still be around, I just… ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] MELANIE: I can’t be a part of this anymore. If, if I get sick, I get sick. And, and if I die… […] Well. If I’m… just another cog, er… Maybe I can’t leave the machine, but from this moment? I–I–I’m not turning. I’m… jammed. [SIGH]

(MAG155) MELANIE: I’m… good, actually. [INHALE] Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m good. ARCHIVIST: You… sound like you’ve made a decision. MELANIE: I have. Yes. ARCHIVIST: [HUFF] Right. MELANIE: [INHALE] Thanks for… telling me, by the way. [INHALE] I–it didn’t look like it was easy for you. […] I’m going to do it. [BREATH] I’m quitting. ARCHIVIST: Oh… [PAUSE] You’re… sure you’ve thought it through? I–I don’t know if we can look after you, you know? MELANIE: [BREATH] ARCHIVIST: A–afterwards. MELANIE: You don’t need to. I’ve… I’ve made a few arrangements, and… [SHAKY INHALE] It’s going to be okay. ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] MELANIE: Ho–honestly. I–I think it is. I, I can’t… be a part of this anymore, and if this is the price, then, I think I’m okay to pay it. […] I’ve left a proper resignation letter, on Lukas’s desk. It was quite satisfying to write, actually. Almost made me wish it was Elias! ARCHIVIST: [CHUCKLING] MELANIE: He would have hated me not serving out my two weeks-notice, huh! Not sure… Lukas even knows who I am…! … Probably for the best.

(MAG186) MARTIN: I get it, okay? I, I can’t decide what happens to them, but… I just might be able to decide what happens to me, and… and if it comes down to it? ALSO MARTIN: [SIGH] MARTIN: … I’ll get Jon to destroy me like the others. ALSO MARTIN: You don’t really believe he’d do it? MARTIN: I don’t know. Maybe? ALSO MARTIN: … This took a dark turn. MARTIN: Yeah, but… this time it doesn’t feel like despair. [BAG JOSTLING] It feels like resolve.

Both of them aware that it wouldn’t change the system they were trapped in, but that they could still assert that tiny bit of willpower and choice, and both preferring the extreme way out (dying) rather than remaining complicit.

But given that parallel… Well: back in MAG155, it was noticed that Melanie’s decision already had an effect on her status – she had been able to say “I quit” (while Tim was unable to say the words in MAG065) and to write her resignation letter (while Martin had been unable to do it even if he had considered it when he was living in the Archives, as he explained in MAG039). It was absolutely owned up in the Season 4 Q&A that Melanie’s choice, her resolve, had an effect on her situation: because she was absolutely sure and certain she would do it and that she would gouge her eyes out, that she would take that measure to reject The Eye, then she was partially free already. (There was a bit more in that discussion, but if I remember that additional bit is Patreon-only… and potentially spoilery, but I’ve kept it in mind, mostly when it comes to the tape recorders popping up for relevant moments…)

So: we have Martin going through the same process of deciding he would agree to a drastic measure in order to not be complicit anymore. Could that then already be having an effect on him as a Watcher/ruler? Jon had pointed out that he was protected from the overall apocalypse thanks to his domain – is it possible that, once Martin comes out of it, that protection would waver a bit because Martin has made the absolute decision to reject it…?

- ;; The biggest question, and Also Martin was right to ask it, is whether or not Jon would accept to carry through the action… and at the same time, if Martin asked, I think Jon would? But at the last moment, would Martin accept to leave Jon alone? In their cases, and with that previous discussion of mutual self-sacrifice (that Martin would be really to sacrifice himself if it meant saving the world, but that his only limit would be for Jon to have to die, and Also Martin pointing out that it’s probably the exact same thing for Jon), the less enviable fate would be for one of them to stay alive and alone.

………… Which means that Jon could accept it, knowing that it will hurt him the most, but would Martin agree to die (whether through sacrifice or as a smiting, to stop feeding from his victims) while knowing what that would mean for Jon…?

- I’m so glad about this episode and these discussions! They were heavy and sad, indeed, but I love that we took a peek into Martin’s head, the thoughts he hadn’t been voicing aloud and the hypothetical scenarios he was aware of but didn’t want to fully face either. It’s questions I had, so it’s pleasing to hear Martin having thought about them too! And I love how both Martins… well, were parts of Martin. Also Martin had less filters, was blunter, sounded like he was Martin’s desire to confront what is happening and the potential darker outcomes; it was also Martin’s desire for “self-care” in a broad sense, the actions that can be comforting or poisonous: he provided tea, he pointed out that Martin wanted a bit of rest and isolation, that a new romantic relationship would have been hard to handle for Martin anyway, apocalypse aside, because of his own traumas (his mother’s neglect and death, the Entities-related business, the deaths around them, Peter’s grooming, The Lonely’s clutch). But the filters are also part of Martin – the things he thinks but doesn’t voice, the person he wants to appear to be, etc.

We’re used to Jon confessing his thoughts to the tape recorders; he’s been doing less of that this season, sharing his thoughts with Martin instead (and we don’t know whether he’s still hiding things right now!), but I like this reminder that what we hear of Jon and Martin is only an aspect of them and their thoughts-process – that they’re considering and noticing way more things than just what we hear, just because they don’t want to share these thoughts. (I usually don’t like unreliable narrators much when it’s supposed to be a twist, but this? I love it, it makes me so soft for characters!)

- I love how the “we” felt… less confrontational at the end, as if Martin had fully reconciliated with his own thoughts and contradictions?

(MAG186) ALSO MARTIN: Well… hopefully it won’t come to that. MARTIN: Hopefully. [SIPS REFLECTIVELY] Thanks for the tea. ALSO MARTIN: Hm! We’re welcome. MARTIN: Ha! [FLASK IS RESEALED WITH THE LID] So. [BAG JOSTLING] How do I leave? [SHUFFLING] [FOOTSTEPS] ALSO MARTIN: I think we just keep walking. MARTIN: And Jon? [BAG IS ZIPPED UP] ALSO MARTIN: I kind of expected him to have interrupted already…! MARTIN: I’m sure he’ll find us eventually. [FOOTSTEPS HEAD OFF]

* The little joke of “We’re welcome” because it’s Martin thanking himself, because they “both” contributed to this! It also contrasted with the previous thanks when Also Martin had apologised for the pain (“Thank you.” “I’m sorry. I know it’s hard.”): that “we’re welcome” was, this time around, making the act a shared action instead of separate ones.

* It was Martin back to being himself and thinking of himself in term of “I” (“How do I leave?”), and being reminded that Also Martin and him were part of a whole (“I think we just keep walking.”): Martin entered the domain alone but, now that he’s faced the things that he wanted to conceal or ignore, the two Martin are reunited and acting as one (“I’m sure he’ll find us eventually.”). And likewise, there was only Martin’s footsteps when he arrived; at the end of the episode, there were two sets.

* I love how the episode highlighted so much the different thoughts forming Martin? The last two sentences aren’t contradictory: (Also) Martin had considered that Jon would interrupt them, and Martin also knows for certain that Jon would still be able to find them if/when necessary. The two are not mutually exclusive! (And I love that it also shed a light on how Martin has a better grasp on how people work than what he shows on a surface level; indeed, it made sense to notice that Jon hadn’t interrupted, that he could have done it… and at the same time, it’s way more difficult to point out an absence of something unless you’re reaaally on the lookout for it.)

* I overall love how Martin’s domain made sense as a demonstration of Lonely/Eye, as itself… and for the exchange we witnessed with the two Martins. It was Martin proving that he’s actually pretty self-aware, that he’s suspecting that things will go down badly, that it’s weighing on him, and only agreeing to show that part of himself when alone in his own bubble, even separated from Jon…

- Regarding Jon, it is true that he could have interrupted… and it does make sense that he didn’t. We’ll see, but I’m guessing that Jon did his damn hardest to precisely not infringe on Martin’s safe space, because Martin didn’t want him there because of shame (“I’m ashamed to let him see this place, all right? To see what… I don’t know, what feeds me?”) and desire to be alone for a bit (“Because you want to stay. Because you want to have a real rest, to just breathe and… be quietly sad I guess…!”), and Jon desperately wanted to respect his privacy. Same thing as when he swore he would refrain from taking a look into Martin’s mind this season, and only tried when Martin was absolutely lost to him – and Jon still felt bad about it and apologised right after even though it had been to save Martin (MAG170: “I, I didn’t want to… look too ha–, I–I–I promised I wouldn’t… know you, and, and with the fog in all–all the rooms, I’ll, I just, I lost y–, I… I–I’m sorry.” “It’s okay.” “… No, I… I tried to use the… to know where you were, but… it was… You–you were faint. It was so strange, i–it took me so long just to find you…!”)

If it was season 3, I would have definitely thought that Jon had been kidnapped in the meantime, but I think he probably is safe. Annabelle seemed to be mostly waiting for Martin to be in better dispositions, so I don’t think she would pester Jon himself. Helen, however…? She could have been visiting Jon in the meantime while he was alone, just to twist the knife and try to confuse him…?

I wonder how MAG187 will begin: will Jon and Martin be together already, having reunited off-screen? Will Jon see the two Martins for a very brief instant? If they’re separated, which POV will we follow as they’re reuniting? The tape recorders can and have spawned everywhere but it’s still interesting that MAG185 ended with Martin on his own with Jon’s (it had been a continuous recording all episode long, Jon had done his statement alone with hat one, but it was with Martin at the end) – will Jon be hidden from us for a little while or will a new one pop up as usual, and will Jon comment on it? Will Jon see Martin emerge from the Lonely? Will Jon give a new statement in another domain before Martin reunites with him again? Did Jon go on ahead after Martin’s disappearance, where will they reunite if not inside of the prison? How much time has passed for Jon? I know it’s not quantifiable anymore in the new world, but if waiting feels like an eternity, maybe time would stretch through dream-logic, too…?

I don’t expect them to be on their own for long but it would still be interesting if, say, they happen to be separated for a few episodes! Martin knew that the destination was the tower, it’s been stated that they can see it from anywhere (MAG163: “You could see that tower from anywhere on Earth. And it can see you. And if you walk towards it, eventually you’ll get there. But you have to go through everything in-between.”); he would be able to get there like Basira is doing (MAG179: “You said follow the Tower, right?”), and Jon confirmed to Martin that he was protected by his domain, not by Jon (MAG185: “Either way, even if I wasn’t here, I don’t think you’d be in any danger. Not anymore. I wasn’t sure when we first started out, I hadn’t properly, uh… looked into it, as it were. But now I’m certain.”). Unless, as mentioned previously… Martin might have lost a bit of that protection since his decision that he refuses to be a ruler.

MAG187’s title makes me things of various things, all for different reasons: Helen, Tessa, Rosie… but given how Jon had announced that Helen’s domain would be coming soon-ish (MAG183: “It’s a shorter path, with faces we know along the way. Including Helen.” “I thought Helen was her domain, wi–with all the doors and that?” “She is, but she has a… position within this pseudo-landscape, like any other.”) and the overall thematic of avatars being bound to their domains that we’ve seen lately (Jordan unable to leave the tunnels and the ants, Martin inquiring about whether he could transform his domain and getting the confirmation that it would only be possible to make it worse), I’m strongly suspecting that it will be Helen’s? With either Helen dying, either someone entering/leaving her corridors…?

#mag186 #tma liveblog #tma season 5 #long post/#the magnus archives

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florenceandthemachine · 4 years

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ALSO, i’m still in my feelings about how much i miss danny mahealani 2020 so tell me your thoughts about the three of them together 🥰

DANNY MAHEALANI 2020.

Danny, sweetie, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry that an ugly ass bitch like Teen Wolf only gave you character development when it was convenient for all the stupid straight white boys.

Usually I have issues with thee part relationships in fanfic because you see so often “this person is the GLUE that keeps us together!!” and like... no? Like any healthy two person relationship, you should not be completely dépendant on your partner, and it always bothers me to see that play through in a throuple.

I think ultimately, it would start with Stiles and Danny. Jackson wouldn’t be able to start out with them, I think, because he would need time to realize that Stiles wasn’t completely incompetent, or that Danny was more than just his friend. Danny would snark about Stiles’ virginity, Stiles would take him up on his offer to cuddle, and boom.

Stiles and Danny (...Stanny?) would be the ultimate cute power couple, though, and it would take Jackson less time than anyone would have thought to go from smacking Stiles in the back of the head in the hall to threatening to beat someone down for smacking Stiles in the back of the head in the hall.

After all, Danny and Jackson had a friendship that could give Scott and Stiles a run for their money, and Jackson wasn’t about to let anyone hurt Stiles if it made Danny sad.

That would be how he came to terms with Stiles so quickly, I think—the logic of “well, Danny likes you, and Danny has never been wrong about anything ever, so you must be good and worth protecting” is nearly infallible in Jackson’s mind. He wouldn’t apologize for any of his past transgressions, of course, but once in a while he would give Stiles this little nod in the hall and Stiles would beam back at him while squeezing Danny’s hand and Jackson would know he was forgiven anyway.

That would be another thing he would adjust to really quickly, too—Stiles and Danny turning into StilesAndDanny. Weirdly enough, he wouldn’t have a problem with that either. When he invited Danny out to eat, it was instinctive for him to book a table for three, because of course Stiles was coming. And when Danny invited him over for pizza and video games, Jackson knew Stiles would be there too—usually tending to his island on the Switch while Jackson and Danny went head to head in some sports game—and oddly enough it didn’t bother him.

(Shortly after they had gotten together, Stiles offered to make himself scarce during one of Danny and Jackson’s night long, caffeine fueled, video game marathons. Before Danny could even insist he stay, Jackson had rolled his eyes and chucked a pillow at his head. “Don’t be an idiot, idiot. Grab some pizza and sit your ass down.” Stiles had rolled his eyes, but there was no denying the pleased [and possibly relieved?] smile on his face, and Danny was fucking beaming.)

Senior year would happen... differently. With Danny in the know from the get go, they would have better odds, better chances, better skills thanks to the literal army of geniuses that the pack seemed to hang out with. They were getting steps ahead, they were building their own bestiary, they were actually on top of their things for once.

And then Donovan wound up with a pole through his chest.

Danny and Jackson would probably be at Jackson’s house, college essays and applications spread out ove rather dining room table, and Danny would only look up when Jackson went on high alert—about half a second before Stiles came through the door, and suddenly Stiles would be between them, completely distraught, sobbing about murder and Scott and mouths (which, what?).

They would spend probably a half hour calming Stiles down, at which point they moved to the couch, and if the situation wasn’t so dire Jackson would have been confused sa to why he was still there, frankly. This seemed like a moment that should have been between Stiles and Danny—but no sooner had the thought crossed his mind to leave them alone did Danny’s hand snap out and grab his wrist, anchoring him to the moment.

They would put on a movie or something for background noise and Stiles would probably fall asleep before too long, emotionally wrecked, head in Jackson’s lap and legs over Danny’s, and it would take one look at the expression on Jackson’s face—a unique blend of murderous and sympathetic—for things to click into place in Danny’s head.

Danny would have had every intention, of course, to keep these things to himself for the time being. But after about half an hour, Stiles would have woken up, apologized profusely to the both of them for interrupting their studies, and insisted on going home and going to bed. And then he would kiss Danny goodnight, a quick peck on the lips as he made his way to the front door.

And then he would kiss Jackson goodnight, a quick peck on the lips as he made his way to the front door.

And then he and Jackson would just stare at one another, slack jawed, while Danny almost chokes on his tongue trying not to laugh. He would immediately surge forward to kiss Stiles too, knowing that he was on the verge of flipping out, and then he would take Jackson’s hand in his own and kiss Jackson’s knuckles, and just murmur “it’s okay.” and suddenly any panic bubbling up would have disappeared.

They would have wound up in Jackson’s bed that night, only because it was the closest, and to be frank Stiles barely had the energy to pull his shoes off before collapsing. Jackson would hardly sleep, honestly—Stiles would be sandwiched between he and Danny, and they’d both be sound asleep, but Jackson would be reeling, both savoring the warmth in his arms and... fearing it, a little bit.

Stiles would wake first (is it “waking first” if Jackson didn’t sleep at all?) the next morning, and he’d make that tired kind of chirping noise a cat usually makes as he opens his eyes, blinking wearily until he made eye contact with Jackson. They would just kind of stare at one another, until Stiles moved, wiggling a little closer, and closer, until their lips were an inch away from one another—and naturally, Stiles would still make the first move.

Their first kiss—their first proper kiss—would be slow, and soft, and Stiles would sigh into it as Jackson deepened it, just a little. They’d break apart and Stiles would blush bright red, letting out a low groan and burying his head in Jackson’s shoulder, and poor Jackson would be lost for a moment.

“It’s cute, right? He reacted the same way after our first kiss.”

And then Jackson would be straining his neck to look up at Danny, who was beaming, and wow, did he really never notice how cute Danny’s dimples were? Or what a nice smile he had? Or how adorable his bedhead was? Or—

His brain would probably have gone on forever, but then Danny was leaning up and kissing him too. The difference was remarkable, though—Danny wasted no time in tasting Jackson’s lips, and then his mouth, easily asserting the same casual dominance he had clearly done with Stiles, sighing happily as his tongue slipped back between his own lips.

When the kiss broke, he would let his body mold back into place along Stiles’ spine, grinning as Jackson did the same, their hands meeting at Stiles hip. Stiles was the first to talk, his face still red, eyes still closed tight, but even if his heartbeat wasn’t beating like a traitor in his chest, his voice would have betrayed his hope when he spoke.

“This is going to be something amazing, isn’t it?”

Jackson found himself smiling, a rarity in and of itself. Danny just quirked a brow at him.

“Yeah, it is.”

(Spoiler alert—it really was.)

#teen wolf #jackson whittemore #danny mahealani #stiles stilinski #stackson #stanny #yeah that's right stanny #it's a thing now #flospeaks #mutually assured devotion

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datingdonovan · 4 years

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Other difference between Stan and Eddie Richie: *gets hurt* Eddie: *keep walking* Stan: *go check that Richie is okay*

this is a take i feel like it honestly depends where you're sourcing from (fic/book/movie/etc) bc a lot of the time eddie is presented as super soft (which if i remember correctly this is a thing in the book? like he a soft boi but also a fighter? n he can be both n go him? ive never read the book and only heard this from ~discourse~ tho so i forget lol) and stan often seems like the tough snark boi (at least on the outside) who would be like ah richie suck it up. but i could also see that being eddie’s reaction. but my initial response with this ask was to just say THeY bOTH Go bAck fOR hiM anD tHAts LOVE PPL

#stozier #reddie #stanley uris #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #it #ask #anon #stozier anons #stan uris #stan #richie #eddie #thank u stozier anons i missed u and am glad to see u making an appearance again #once more ur given me life

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pottahonlyfanz · 3 years

Text

PART 1 TO THIS STORY

I have no followers. But I’m going to do this anyways, I used to write on WP but lost my account info. Maybe some will see this, maybe some won’t...I feel awkward BUT I do know that I want to. So here I go.

EVENTUALLY will be Ron Weasley Xreader...smut/fluff. This is just the introduction I guess. Sort of like a he’s-the-last-person-y/n-ever-expected story. So this first part is just really accentiuating and leading up to that. Still smutty moments though for sure. Sorry if my grammar or spelling is shit I’m to impatient atm to check it all. Enjoy! (Or don’t)

You were finally in your seventh year here at Hogwarts. The journey from your younger years to now felt like ages. I mean that being said, you also did run into a few near-death-but-not-close-enough-to-do-any-real-damage (well mental health wise that was debatable but ANYWAYS) experiences a year which could have certainly made the process to graduation day feel dreadful at times. Not to say you graduating will solve all of your and everyone elses problems but in the mean time it was cute to pretend it would.

As you approached your last days in class you couldn’t help but think about all of the opportunities you may have missed with your attractive mates that filled the halls of Hogwarts on a daily basis. You had never really been a sexual person so you having your virginity at 17 years old didn’t bother you too much. Or at least that’s the front you put on to avoid going through the awkwardness of losing it. So instead of taking the opportunities you may have had to lose it, or do it or however the hell you prefer to say it...you act as if nobody interests you. As if you’re one of those I’m-not-interested-in-anyone-around-me-because-they-don’t-reach-my-standards type of girls. Which is totally fine! But also just not at all the case for you. It was just a front. Just a rouse for the truth. The truth being although you acted confident you were incredibly insecure and never wanted ANYONE to see you so vulnerable.

If you’re being completely and totally honest with yourself right now, you’re not as cold and anti-boys as the act you put up makes it seem. You’ve never fallen in love with anyone and been in denial about it or anything like that...we’re still FAIRLY cold hearted. But, you did think about yourself with people. Not exactly romantically no that’s not the word...passionately...maybe...well let’s just cut to the chase. You have sexual fantasies about those surrounding you WAY more than you’d like to admit. Well you’d never admit to feeling sexually attracted to a soul but you REALLY, really couldn’t even bring yourself to accept the one realization that you like any other teenager had desires.

Now that we’ve gotten our background information down...lets fast forward to period 3. Snapes class. Your first fantasy of the day always occurs there. Malfoy.

You were a griffindor so the faint idea of a sythlerin was supposed to repulse you. And it did, it truly did. You couldn’t stand Malfoy or the stupid little act he put on as if he were some big shot. You saw right through it all, as you did with everyones B.S. around here. But as you observed Draco throughout your years of developing you noticed some things you didn’t hate...

-His hands...his fingers were long, slender...his hands bombarded with his veins that you noticed popped out more than usual when he spoke. The silver crest ring that rested upon his index made you question how it would feel with him knuckles deep in you.

-His jawline...sharp, sculpted so perfectly. As if jawlines were made off of a blueprint that came from Draco Malfoys face. Which would look so pretty eating you out as if it were his last meal.

-His lips...oh his lips. They were plump but not overly full. The way they puckered as he made that smug look whenever somebody pissed him off. They were always kissable, sure. But something about his mouth when he was angry drove you absolutely mad. Sometimes you’d push his buttons a little extra just to get the satisfaction of looking so, so sexy.

Of course you couldn’t stand his personality or his presence but that’s what made thinking about it more fun. He was forbidden fruit, eniticing forbidden fruit. Which made it even more fun.

Your Narrating now/Your POV:

“What are you looking at Y/N? Don’t you have anything better to do than day dream about me?” Draco snarked.

“In your dreams, Draco. I was looking at the piece of lunch you have leftover on your chin. Saving it for later?” I replied exuding nothing but attitude and confidence. Everyone chuckled after that and Malfoy blushed and shot me an angry glare. I felt a bit guilty for being such a bitch but there was no other excuse I could’ve had for blatantly staring at the man and I have to keep up my tough exterior. Especially towards a syltherin.

Thankfully moments later the bell rang and Snape dismissed us. Before I could even walk out the door I was knocked to the ground after a strong nudge into the door from none other but Malfoy storming past me. He was pissed, but what could I do. There’s no way I would apologize. Not to anyone, certainly not to Malfoy. He’ll get over it. But in the mean time I grabbed my books all knocked out of my hands, dusted myself off and made my way to period 4. Flitwicks class. Now onto another fantasy. Granger. Hermione Granger. She was my mate, we had dormed together since 1st year. She was always easy to talk to, helpful, intelligent. One of my bestfriends here at Hogwarts. My view of her had always been innocent. Until like I said...fifth year when my hormones got the best of me. It wasn’t like a me-falling-for-the-straight-girl situation or anything (which if we’re being compltely honest would be debatable anyways as she expressed to me once that she plays for both teams but...she kind of beat around the bush so that could’ve been my imagination running with what it wanted to hear...) It was another completely sexual thing. From her slender shoulders, to her toned and mesmirising figure, twiddling down to her perfect manicured fingernails...her beauty always consumed me whenever I found myself glancing her way.

I thought about a lot of things with Hermione. I thought about how it would feel with her down on me as I gripped a few strands of her overwhelmingly beautiful hair. I thought about how her warm, sensual lips would feel against mine as I fondled her sweet spot below...dipping my fingers in and out of her with ease and pleasure. About how her moans would be soft but reassuring at the same time. Or just how badly I wanted to feel her, pleasure her...please her. I would be completely selfless when it came to Hermione in bed beca-

“Y/N? Y/N!....are you even remotely paying attention? You’re missing this lesson entirely.” Hermione suddenly scowled at me in a low whisper.

“I- I yeah! I am paying attention. Just got lost in my own thoughts for a second there. Thank you.” I replied back to her. Which honestly, was true. It’s not like these fantasies were ALL I thought about. I kept my grades at low 90s but it was more so because I studied my ass of and can easily understand and retain what I’m being taught even if sometimes my mind wanders elsewhere. Except for those few days, where I slip and find it hard to focus on much else but my desires. Today was one of those days.

“Okay, good. I don’t want to see you get behind and make a fool of yourself. You’re too smart for that. We’re too smart for that.” She said facing back to the tiny teacher after our short whispering encounter. I liked how she was always concerned about her friends. I thought it was sweet it was- NOPE! STOP! I don’t fall for people, I don’t crush on people...I just fantasize about them. I had to remind myself before getting back to paying attention to todays material; pratically drooling over the sight of Hermione sitting in front of me and the sweet scents that excuded her presence.

As I was finally dismissed from that class which felt like an age long wait, I made my way to the Griffindorr common room for my favorite period. My free period. It was one of the many perks of being a seventh year and I looked forward to it every. single. day. Typically I spent this time alone studying or working on projects, except for a few days every now and then I was accompianed by Harry to tutor him for Sprout’s herbology class which he was especially dreadful at. As soon as I walked in I saw his familar face sitting on the floor waiting for me to accompany him. As soon as he felt me looking at him, I was soon greeted with that adorable little smirk of his.

“Y/N! Hello! I hope you don’t mind were sitting on the floor. There’s more space and to be honest its oddly more comfortable.” He said confident and positively.

“Not at all, sounds great. Lets get started shall we?” I answered back in my typical a-bitch-who’s-being-friendly tone. Harry and I were close like I was with Hermione, so I always tried to talk with a warmer demeanor as I actually enjoyed their company.

“Absoultely. I figured we would start with knottgrass since that’s where I need the most help. Then we can move on to sneezewort and bouncing bulb.” He blurbed very assured. I loved how decsisive he was. It was such a turn on.

“Works for me. Lets give it a go.” I answered back to him.

As I went over the currciulum and reassured him or did just the opposite pending he was unsucsessful; I couldn’t help but notice his shirt lifting everytime he stretched his hands over his head, looking more confused than ever. He was getting frustrated and his tone got progressively more and more stern as the period carried on.

“Y/N, I don’t understand this. You’re not explaining it right, and I’m getting confused.” He said with an attitude and his eyes looking like they were near popping out of his head under his glasses. God he looked so sexy when he grew angry, his veins all over him making an apperance under his now rolled up arm sleeves. Exposing his lets just say...distracting arms. They looked as if they could take and over power me any minute had I just said the word. But as always, I supressed my feelings and the sexual tension of the whole I’m-agressively-looking-down-at-your-lips-and-biting-mine-as-I-do-it game he was playing.

“Fine. Maybe we should take a break here. You’re not comprehending what I’m saying because you’re frustrated. Go cool off or something.” I replied stern, but calm.

He rolled his eyes and leaned back so he was against the couch. As I glanced over at him I noticed his...member was growing. He cleared his throat and turned away from me after we had both realized it became noticeably there. I couldn’t blame him nor was I suprised. I took of my robe earlier when I had entered the room because it was quite toasty. Leaving my legs and nipples so obviously there and exposed (as today was no-bra-day...like everyday) and the closeness of our bodies combined with Harry’s obvious desire for me as he got more and more frustrated growing through the room. Harry and I had made out once in fifth year but that’s as far as it got. Mostly because I acted like it didn’t happen after because I wished it hadn’t...not because it wasn’t amazing but because that wasn’t me, that wasn’t what I had time for. We never spoke of it again and nobody ever knew. Although ever since then there had always been some tension there. Which seemed to progress once we were alone...I pretended to ignore it and acted oblivious to my very apparent sex appeal that came with developing my figure as I grew older. Regardless of my deep insecurities, I saw here and there little glimpses of liking things about myself which gave me the fake confidence I exude. Although now felt like a moment of weakness. As I had seen Harry’s CLEARLY very hard...long...girth it had been silent ever since. Mostly because I was dreaming of him taking himself and getting off in my mouth, but 2 minutes later of us sitting in that silence; I decided to break it. As much as I craved Harry, I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.

“Are you cooled down now? Can we continue the review? Or would you prefer we pick up where we left off last time...” I question acting cool and calm as if I hadn’t seen a thing.

“We can just...continue tomorrow. If you’re free. Or tonight. Possibly in my dorm? I find it easy to study there...” He said, still frustrated but almost seductively. And oh how my body ached for me to say yes. Oh how I longed to taste and feel Harry Potter. Just thinking about it had me moving around seeking a bit of friction in my soaked panties.

“Oh, tomorrow is fine. I’ll meet you back in here same time?” I answered.

He let out a slight but still noticeable sigh. “Yeah, same time.” He responded as if I had let him down.

As I got up and began to gather my things, I noticed he was staring down my shirt. “Potter!” I yelled. “Can I help you with something?!” His face turned beat red, his member still there; still growing.

“Oh! N-n-No! I apologize. I thought you had something on your...y-your shirt.” He answered nervously. Had I made him nervous? Harry Potter?..nervous? I had never seen him like this, unsure of himself. It was almost...facsinating to say the least. I acted as if it wasn’t obvious to save his pride.

“Oh. Okay. Sorry for getting snappy. I just thought- well. Y’know. Have a goodnight, Potter. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I said in a warm but sure tone.

“No worries. See you tomorrow. Goodnight Y/N.” He replied clearly very relieved that his rouse had worked. (Or so he assumed)

I grabbed my robe and continued with my things as I turned around and walked out of the room feeling his beautiful blue eyes on me with every step I took.

As I finished my last class and went back to my dorm that night, my mind was nowhere but on the thought of Harry who I kept wondering if he had been thinking of me. My body craved him. Deeply. Desperately. Yet that would never happened, so I dreamed.

#harry potter #harry potter imagine #hogwartssmut

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tessisawriter · 5 years

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Not Losing Me (Adrian Kempe)

Request (anonymous): Adrian Kempe #16 💜

A/N: I have no idea what the Kings’ social media people are like: I just made them that way to highlight the problem of sexism in the workplace. If you have ever experienced sexism or harassment, please know that it is not your fault and you have every right to report whoever did that to you. Lightly inspired by Gabrielle Aplin’s “Losing Me” (link here).

Warnings: Two swear words, angst, sexism, mention of catcalling & harassment

Word Count: 1.8k

Another night, another loss.

You sighed as you turned off the post-game coverage, knowing that Adrian would be home any minute now. The Kings had not been doing well recently, and your boyfriend was in a perpetually sullen mood. You didn’t want to make him feel worse than he already did.

As soon as you put down the clicker, you heard the telltale signs of keys jingling outside the door, a string of curses, and finally, the lock turning. The door burst open, and Adrian came stomping inside. There was a wild look in his eyes that you had never seen in the seven years you knew him.

“I’m so fucking sick of losing!” Adrian exclaimed, throwing his hockey bag down on the ground.

Your heart hurt for him. You stood up, walked over to him, and wrapped your arms around him in a bone-crushing hug. You whispered in his ear, “I know, babe.”

Adrian’s body tensed and he pulled away from your embrace, but you still kept your arms around him. “No, you don’t, Y/N—all you do is study, and work, and study some more! You have no idea what I’m going through!”

“I’d beg to differ,” you responded, keeping your voice calm. “We do completely different things, sure, but frustration is central to both of our jobs. When I hand in a paper that I know is subpar, I feel like a loser.”

Adrian’s eyes darkened. “Are you actually trying to compare grad school to being a professional athlete?” The venom in his voice cut through you like a knife. “Come on, Y/N, get real! I not only have to play games five times a week, but I also have to stay in perfect physical shape and put the puck in the net! Grad school is child’s play.”

The last comment made you snap. The floodgates opened, and tears started streaming down your face. “Don’t you dare tell me that what I do is child’s play!” you screamed. “I know you’ve been down lately, so I’ve tried to be as understanding as possible, but you just crossed the line!”

“Really? You’re going to throw a temper tantrum now?” Adrian’s voice was dripping with snark.

You were overwhelmed by your emotions, but “That’s it, I’m done,” was all you said as you turned away and walked into the bedroom.

You went into the closet and grabbed a blanket. It was too late at night to fight like this, and you needed time to think. You plucked Adrian’s pillow off the bed before returning to the living room, putting them on the couch, and informing him: “I think it’s best if you sleep out here tonight.”

The possessed look in Adrian’s eyes vanished immediately, and remorse replaced it. “Y/N, baby, I shouldn’t have said that, I’m so…”

“No.” A suppressed sob made your voice sound choked. “You hurt me. You really hurt me, and I need some distance from you now, so please, just stay on the couch.” Your voice was reduced to a squeak by the time you finished.

Adrian’s green eyes looked suspiciously watery, but he just nodded and grabbed the blanket, unfolded it, and laid it out on the couch while you walked back into the bedroom and closed the door, locking it before you climbed into bed and shut off the light.

***************

You drifted in and out of sleep, never able to relax enough to rest. You hated nothing more than restless nights, so you eventually gave up on sleeping and sat up in your bed.

The clock read 4:15AM, and you groaned, running a hand over your face. Your heart ached when you looked at Adrian’s empty side of the bed. How could your loving boyfriend who had done nothing but support and lift you up throughout your five-year relationship belittle you like that? His statement stung, and it kept replaying in your head, confusing you the more you thought about it.

You didn’t feel any better physically. Your eyes hurt from crying yourself to sleep, your nose was all stuffed, and your throat was scratchy. More than anything, you wanted water, so you reached over to the bedside table for where you normally kept your water bottle, but your hand only made contact with air. “Shit,” you cursed quietly. You left your water bottle in the living room.

The last thing you wanted to do was go outside, especially because you didn’t want to wake Adrian if he had managed to fall asleep, but your throat screamed for water. You compromised on leaving your water bottle in the living room and getting another one from the kitchen.

You crept over to the bedroom door and tried to make as little noise as possible while you unlocked the door. You were successful, so you slowly turned the knob and opened the door halfway. You looked through the door and saw Adrian lying on his side on the couch, facing away from the bedroom. He appeared to be asleep. Sighing, you stepped through the doorframe and tiptoed to the kitchen, where you took out a new water bottle and filled it without making too much noise. When you walked back into the living room, though, Adrian was sitting up on the couch and facing the kitchen, clearly waiting for you to come out.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Adrian asked, his voice sedate but scratchy.

You shook your head.

“Me neither,” he said.

You just stood there, staring at him. Everyone said there were two responses to potential conflict, fight or flight, but you knew there was a third option: freeze.

“Y/N? Do you want to come and sit?” Adrian asked you for the second time. You snapped out of whatever trance you were in and gingerly walked over to the couch, sitting on the opposite end from Adrian.

The silence was killing you, so you brought the water bottle to your lips and took a sip. The cool water felt like heaven, so you drank the rest of the bottle before setting it down on the coffee table.

“Feel any better?” Adrian said.

“Yeah.” You tested your voice, and it sounded clearer.

“Good.”

The silence took over the room again, but you turned to Adrian and broke it: “Why did you say what you did? I mean…” You searched for the words. “You’ve never belittled me before, and while it hurt, what really bothers me is I don’t understand where it came from.”

“I didn’t mean it, Y/N. I was frustrated with myself, so I took it out on you, but I shouldn’t have.”

“I believe you,” you replied, “But that wasn’t the question. Where would you pick up such a notion? It was sexist, and you’ve never behaved that way before: quite the contrary, actually. You always treat girls as equal, and that was why I liked you in the first place.”

“I don’t know, it’s just…” Adrian ran his hands through his hair, which told you he was lying. He knew where it came from.

“Adrian,” you said, moving a little closer to him on the couch so that you weren’t so far away but also had enough distance between you, “It’s okay: you can tell me. I won’t judge or anything.”

Adrian sighed. “You know the new guys in social media?”

You nodded, your blood already boiling. The Kings had hired a new social media team this year, and there was only one female member. The rest were boys in their early to mid 20s who were known to hit on fans and occasionally, a player’s SO. Fortunately, they didn’t try that with you, but it happened to Tyler’s wife, Cat. They were pigs.

“They’re always talking shit about girls, and they were on me today, or I guess yesterday now, about you.”

“What about me?” You asked, despite dreading his answer.

“That they forget I have a girlfriend half the time because you don’t go to a ton of games,” he admitted.

You stiffened. “You know I want to go to your games, but I can’t control the fact that my classes are all at night.”

“I understand, Y/N, I really do, and I’m so proud of everything you’re doing at your PhD program. I don’t know what came over me.”

“I do,” you said. “Those assholes knew you’ve been upset over losing a lot lately, so they took advantage of it and spread their poison.” You closed the distance between you and Adrian on the couch and put your fingers under his chin so he would be forced to look you in the eye. “But you can’t let them do that anymore, okay?”

“I won’t, I promise,” Adrian said, and you knew from the earnestness in his eyes that he was telling the truth.

“Okay, then. I forgive you.”

Adrian’s eyes widened. “You do?”

“Yeah. It wasn’t really you talking earlier. But promise me one thing.”

“Anything.”

“Tell management to fire those jerks,” you said. “Did you know that a bunch of them hit on Cat last week and were catcalling her?”

Adrian’s jaw clenched. “No, I did not know that. No wonder she’s been acting strange whenever she comes to the facility. Tyler’s been really worried about it; I have to tell him…”

“No,” you said. “I’ll call Cat in the morning and convince her to tell Tyler herself. He needs to hear it from her, Adrian.”

“You’re right. God, I’m so sorry about all this,” Adrian said as he wrapped his arms around you and hugged you tight. You returned the gesture and rested your head in the crook of his neck.

“Don’t be sorry: we’re going to handle this together tomorrow,” you replied.

Adrian released you and stood up. “That’s right: we’re a team, and I won’t forget that again. Let’s go to bed, shall we?” He extended his hand, and you took it, letting him pull you up from the couch and into bed.

After you were settled in the bed with Adrian as the big spoon, he whispered into your hair, “I was so worried I was going to lose you.”

“Because of those jackasses?” You chuckled and turned around to face him. “You’re not losing me because of them.”

Adrian smiled and kissed you on the lips. You leaned into the kiss before pulling away.

“Let’s not lose any more sleep over them, okay?”

“Amen to that,” Adrian agreed, and you turned back over so that you could resume your original position. Both of you fell asleep within five minutes, happy that your fight was over.

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raybyanothername · 4 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: RWBY Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Winter Schnee Characters: Raven Branwen, Qrow Branwen, Winter Schnee Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Canon, Domestic, POV Outsider, Ship Wrecked Fanzine 2020 Summary:

Dove Branwen is dominating the illegal fighting rings of Mantle with a bird grim mask and hair the color of snow. Raven gave zero cares about her hair or her mask.… Raven cared that someone was using her name. Someone - probably Qrow - had a lot to answer for.

Written for the Ship Wrecked Fanzine, a multi-ship Qrow fanzine. @shipwreckedfanzine

This is also the perfect time to announce that I got a ko-fi account: https://ko-fi.com/raybyanothername ! So if you like this fic, feel free to buy my a coffee!

The Bird of Peace

The fighting rings of Mantle were renovated industrial complexes. The term 'renovated' being used very generously.

Raven sipped her drink, swirled the red liquid in her glass. She stood, sword at her hip, on a rusted loft space that served as something of a VIP area. Her eyes watched the ring on the floor below as two supposed fighters beat and grapple until the man beside her laughed. As the sound echoed off the metal walls a knife was thrown into the ring and soon the fight was over.

"I must say," Raven turned to look at her benefactor - the great organizer himself, Cellus - with narrowed eyes, "This is far less exciting than you had led me to believe."

"Just the pre-show," Cellus grinned. A scar on his cheek pulled and twisted as his lips spread wide. "The final event is just beginning."

The ring was cleared and a man in an obnoxious and ill-fitting suit stepped to the center. "And now!" The man's voice boomed. "For the fight we've all been waiting for!"

The crowds on the floor below began to cheer. The noise rose to deafening heights. If she didn't know the authorities had been paid off, Raven might be a tad worried about having to skip out early.

"The challenger - the dastardly devil himself - Deven the Guard!" The room filled with boos as a man with an Atlesian uniform stepped into the ring. The helmet hid his face, but the man was otherwise far too large for the garments. They were ripped, torn, and stained. She had no doubts to how he had acquired the items.

Deven played his part. He saluted Cellus and wagged his finger at the crowd. It earned him laughs, but not cheers.

"And the champion!" The crowd was already roaring. "The fallen huntress herself!" Raven's ears perked up. She straightened slightly, her eyes focusing on the spotlight where the fighter would appear. "Do-ove Bra-anwen!"

Raven tensed as the snow white figure stepped into the spotlight. The yellow glow gave her color, but she was dressed in white from the grimm mask - a Nevermore - to the boots on her feet. Silver war scythes hung on either side of her hips and Raven counted three silver rings on her right hand and one on her left. Even her damn hair was white.

"Ah," Cellus stepped up beside her. His hand ghosted over her lower back, "Now you see why I invited you."

"And I thought it was just your desire to expand into Mistral," Raven looked over her shoulder at him, baring her teeth. He stepped away, hands raised.

Cellus chuckled, "Who says a man can't have multiple reasons for inviting a beautiful and deadly woman into his home?" He swept his arms down. He smiled again, scar twisting. Raven's lips twitched.

"Well, I'm certainly curious."

-.-.-

Dove 'Branwen' won her fight, quick and bloody. Her challenger would live, but he certainly wouldn't be fighting anytime soon.

The woman was precise in her every move. Her weapons worked in tandem with her graceful movements to make Dove seem like a whirlwind of blades and aura.

"At least she's not sullying the name as well as stealing it." Raven twirled a knife in her hand as she walked through her camp. The tents were far from quiet. She'd taken three men with her to Mantle and the story had spread like wildfire when they'd returned.

A scythe-wielding Branwen who fought like a demon and looked like an angel. It was the stuff fairytales were based on.

"I hate fairytales." Raven fisted her hand around the hilt of the blade. She sliced down through the space beside her. A portal split open. "But I know which bird does."

-.-.-

Raven found her brother exactly where she expected to find him: asleep, probably hungover, and sprawled out on a bed. By the noise outside his door, he'd paid for a room at a tavern. The accents told her Vacuo. That explained the dust and the taste of sand in her mouth.

"Whaddya want Rae?" Qrow croaked. He didn't open his eyes as Raven took three steps closer to his bed.

"Someone in Mantle is using our last name." Raven began to walk at the foot of the bed, back and forth, three steps each way. She took them slowly, back straight, and chin high, "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that would you?"

Qrow's lips twitched before he rolled onto his side, "Nah." Raven narrowed her eyes. "Poor bastard must be unlucky, for you to stumble upon him all the way in Mantle."

"Her." Raven bit out. Qrow's shoulder tensed for a brief second before he caught himself. Raven leaned over him, fisting a hand in Qrow's shirt, "You know her."

"I don't, I -" Qrow glowered before Raven cut him off with a shake.

"It wasn't a question." Raven seethed through her teeth.

Qrow's face was stone. He clamped his mouth shut and kept it shut, no matter how hard she shook him. If she weren't so…weak…Raven would kill him for his lies, but baby brothers are like lice - they infested your heart and killing them meant subjecting yourself to a great deal of discomfort or pain.

It was his eyes that she had a hard time with - they were the only eyes that had never looked at her in fear and that, unfortunately, meant something to her.

That was how she figured it out though. His eyes. They shook.

"Tell me, Qrow…" Raven leaned closer. Her nose nearly touching his. "Does she have a right to use our name?" His face stayed stiff, but his eyes shifted. "Or, more specifically, your name?"

This time, he flinched. Raven stepped back, smirking. Qrow groaned, "Leave her be, Rae. Please?"

"Of course." Raven shrugged. Her eyes locked on Qrow, "After I meet her." Qrow's jaw clicked as he clenched it tight. "I have to make sure she's good enough for you, after all."

Raven sliced through the air again. She stepped through, laughter on her lips as Qrow lunged after her. One hand reflexively reached for Harbinger as he jumped from the bed. That was lucky.

Qrow disliked traveling through Raven's portals. There was a gooey sensation at the point of entry and he had a hard time keeping his balance on the way out. He stumbled over his own feet as he came through this time.

"Still clumsy I see," Raven caught him by the shoulder. She'd stopped laughing. Qrow looked around at the glistening streets of Atlas and then back at her now scowling face. "Who, exactly, is this woman again?"

Qrow huffed, "That's none of your business." He hooked Harbinger over his back and crossed his arms.

Raven turned on the balls of her feet, scanning the block. It was apartment buildings and little shopettes that only someone with more money than sense would shop in. It was night, so all of those people were asleep right now.

"Why don't you just head back to Mistral?" Qrow snarked. There was a hint of a growl in his voice. "Ya know, where you actually want to be." There was no reason for her to respond, so Raven started walking. Towards the nearest apartment building. Qrow followed close at her heels.

"She's here then," Raven smirked as she yanked open the door. There was a lobby, but no concierge. "A woman who appreciates privacy." She kept walking.

Raven judged her steps by Qrow's reaction to them. Forward when he stepped closer, back when he gave her more breathing room. He was nervous, on edge. It made him easy to read. His fingers kept twitching towards his flask.

"Go ahead, drink," Raven shrugged as she started climbing stairs. "It's impossible for me to think any less of you anyway."

Qrow's hands fisted. Then he forced them open, shaking them out. "I don't drink anymore."

"Oh." Raven stopped and turned around. Qrow stood three steps below her. "Well then. I suppose now I could think less of you."

"Did you just… compliment me?" Qrow narrowed his eyes, chuckling. Raven scoffed and turned back around to keep climbing. The higher they climbed the more ansty Qrow grew. He hadn't yet tried to stop her though, and Raven knew he would if he were actually concerned.

"She's a decent fighter." Raven ventured. "Your girl. This Dove." Qrow grinned behind her, snickered. "What?"

"Decent, Rae? Come on." Qrow chuckled, arms crossed behind his head, "She's one of the best damn huntresses I've ever fought, you included."

Raven rolled her shoulders back, "The announcer called her a 'fallen huntress?'" She looked over her shoulder at Qrow. He bit his lip, arms falling back to his sides.

"She was only a huntress for a year." Qrow slipped his hands into his pocket. "She was a specialist before that." Raven froze. Her lips pursed. Qrow grabbed her arms. "Don't hold it against her. I gave her enough hell for it back in the day."

"As you wish." Raven shrugged his hand away and stomped the last few steps to the highest floor. Qrow slipped past her with a few long strides and a fancy spin that Tai had taught him back at Beacon.

Qrow stood in front of the door, arms crossed and eyes narrow, "I mean it, Rae. You wanna meet her, fine, but I won't let you hurt her."

The door behind him swung open, "I can take care of myself just fine, Qrow." Raven blinked at the woman standing behind her brother, a sly grin decorating her porcelain face. White hair was loose about her face, light waves curling around her jaw until they stopped abruptly at her shoulder. Eyes the color of ice, and just as hard, stared back at Raven.

"You married a damn Schnee!" Raven shoved Qrow's shoulder with a growl. "Are you kidding me?!"

"Technically, we're not married." Winter shrugged, tilting her head to the side with a smile. Qrow snorted, hands falling down to his sides, and Raven scowled. Winter's eyes did not waver from Raven's.

For all that she looked of porcelain, Raven had seen Winter fight, she knew the woman was more steel and iron. Though… given the stories that had circulated about the Schnee sisters, maybe it was bone, made strong from so many breaks. Raven could respect that.

"Alright then,," Raven raised her chin, eyes narrow, "Let's get to know each other." She took another step up the stairs towards Winter. The only thing separating the two women now was Qrow.

A moment passed, Qrow fidgeting as Winter and Raven stared each other down. And then.… Winter smiled and nodded. "Come inside, Raven, have some tea."

Raven blinked. She looked at Qrow, who shrugged and followed his not-wife as she left the stairwell. Raven did the same. The hallway was clean and carpeted, but not overly luxurious. Seven white doors with tarnished gold letters were all squeezed onto the same floor.

"Not the penthouse I would expect of a Schnee." Raven watched Qrow's shoulders tense, but he remained silent.

Winter clenched her hands together, "It would be best if you not use that name where people could hear." She looked over her shoulder at Raven, eyes hard, "My sister is trying to fix the damage my father has done, but it will be some time before the name will be safe to hold anywhere in Remnant."

"You're afraid?" Raven scoffed as Winter paused in front of the last door. She froze with her hand on the knob.

"Not for me." Winter spoke softly before pushing open the door. Qrow was the first one through and the chirpy squeal that followed told Raven all she needed to know before she even crossed the threshold.

Winter closed the door behind herself. She and Raven stood shoulder to shoulder as Qrow scooped up a small boy in red pajamas who had run headfirst into his chest. A small, stuffed black bird was clutched tightly in one hand even as he wrapped his arms around Qrow's neck. Red eyes shimmered with joy and mischief.

"His name is Wren." Winter spoke, hands clasped behind her back. Raven turned her head. Winter's lips were quirked up, but it was her eyes that Raven found herself staring at. Icy blue, as hard as they had been looking at Raven was how soft they were watching Qrow ruffle dark locks and kiss the ruddy cheeks of his son.

"Mama! Daddy's home!" Wren giggled at Winter as he hooked his chin on Qrow's shoulder. He glanced curiously at Raven, waved with his free hand. Raven’s jaw clenched tight.

"I see that!" Winter's smile widened as she moved to kiss his forehead. Wren squealed again, little arms flailing. Qrow laughed, deep and hearty.

Raven watched the scene before her. A weight settled low in her gut. Wren was a stark reminder of the past. Of several pasts. And watching Qrow and Winter’s heads lean close together, whispering words she could have easily heard if she wanted to… Raven felt like an invader.

Turning her head to looks elsewhere, the rest of the apartment came into focus. The pale blue walls and the comfy couch, the wood tone cabinets in the kitchen along the back wall. Photos and drawings littered the walls. Wren it seemed was both artistic and photogenic.

Or perhaps Winter was just sentimental.

Raven stepped towards a shelf, nestled between two doors. Light snores drifted from one, and the other stood wide open to reveal a small bed covered in more stuffed animals than any child could ever hold at one time. Raven kept her eyes on the shelf.

A picture stuck out to her, tucked into the frame of a larger family portrait. It was a snapshot of Qrow – dark circles, bruises on his neck – holding a bundle of red. Tiny fingers reached upwards. Next to Qrow, leaning on his shoulder, was a sleeping Winter. Her white locks stuck to her forehead with sweat.

The bottom of the photo held a short message: You’ve never looked happier Uncle Qrow! – Y

It was true. Despite the bruises, the blood, and the exhaustion. Qrow’s smile was bigger than Raven had ever seen.

"I'm gonna put him back to bed," Qrow leaned over to kiss Winter's cheek and Raven turned back to face her the little family. Qrow walked past her into the room with the overabundance of stuffed things and closed the door.

"So tell me, Raven," Winter stepped forward, arms tense at her side, "What would you like to know?" Raven raised an eyebrow. The sound of Qrow reading a story, funny voices included, floated in from a bedroom door on their left.

Winter didn't budge and Raven recognized her footing from when the woman had fought in the ring. Raven chuckled, "Nice to know my reputation precedes me." She side stepped Winter and sunk into the couch in the living room.

"I've met your daughter," Winter followed her across the apartment, but she stayed on her feet. She stopped in the kitchen, pulling a kettle from the stove just as it began to whistle. "And I know better than to underestimate a Branwen."

Raven did not flinch at the mention of Yang, but her lips pressed firmly together. She leaned her head into her hand, propping her arm up on the couch. "Qrow said you were a huntress before?" Winter set two cups of tea on the coffee table.

"After leaving the military, yes. A friend of Qrow's, Robyn, she offered me a spot on her team. They're in Vacuo right now, still dealing with the fallout from Salem's attack." Winter’s tone was neutral, but forced.

"Vacuo is where I found Qrow." Raven arched an eyebrow.

Winter shrugged, "I retired. He didn't. I fight for Cellus now, it's decent pay and he's…"

"A complete buffoon." Raven finished Winter's thought. "Especially if you've got a nice figure." She eyed up Winter, even in a breezy robe and slippers the curves the woman had were evident. "Which you've got."

"…oblivious to my true identity." Winter continued without acknowledging Raven's words. "Wren needs stability, as does my brother." The last words came out sharply and Raven swallowed back a growl. Winter finally sat, picking a chair directly opposite Raven's position on the couch. Her posture was perfect.

Qrow returned to the living room to find the two women staring at each other, intensely. Without blinking. Slowly, without breaking eye contact, Winter sipped her tea. He sighed.

"Ya know, just once it'd be nice to have a little family unity," Qrow gestured with his hands and Raven snorted. The corner of Winter’s lips twitched. Qrow sat on the arm of Winter's chair. He leaned back, body curling over the back of the chair.

The sight was… disorientating. Qrow, literally wrapped around the stiff and proper figure of Winter Schnee. Even worse was Winter herself. Her posture slackened and she leaned backwards into Qrow’s waiting chest. Her hand moved to his knee as his found her shoulder. The forced neutrality of Winter’s face bled into a peaceful smile.

Raven had never seen her brother so comfortable around another individual. Even around her, he'd always been a little tense, a little skittish. She'd blamed it on his semblance, but here he was - same semblance - lounging like a cat, muscles draped as if his very bones had softened along with Winter’s expression.

"Well, Schnee," Raven sighed, stood, and stretched. Her hands fell to her waist and she watched Winter track her movements with her eyes. "I deem you worthy of my last name, so long as you don't lose any fights."

Winter smirked, "Of course." She bowed her head slightly, little more than a nod. Raven recognized the gesture, the respect. She nodded in kin.

"Do see about making it official," Raven joked as she twirled her dagger out from its hiding space. She slashed through the air, "A proper lady deserves a proper wedding." The portal opened as Winter laughed. "And a bedding." Raven stepped through just as Qrow jolted up from his position, squawking.

The bandits who stopped as Raven walked through the camp didn't ask her where she had been. They did not stop her or comment as she ignored their presence. She simply walked into her tent and slipped a photo from her belt.

In a chest, below piles of clothes and blankets and armor, was a small wooden box. Inside was a dinged up shuriken blade and tattered scraps of paper. Nothing of import or interest. Raven slipped the snapshot she’d swiped from Qrow’s home beneath them all, right over the photo of a purple eyed blonde and her stuffed kitty cat.

-.-.-

If you liked this fic and you’re feeling generous, you can buy me a coffee: https://ko-fi.com/raybyanothername

#ray writes #snowbird #rwby #qrow branwen #winter schnee #fanfiction #rwby fanfiction #raven branwen #qrow/winter #qrowin #shipwreckedfanzine

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crewhonk · 5 years

Text

Of The Line (11) (reposted)

Summary: Bucky is captured, Bucky escapes, Bucky is captured again, YN refuses to believe Steve may possibly like her and her alone. REPOSTED FOR LINK

Warnings: bombs, fighting, teasing, swearing. This isn’t edited so…. YEET

Songs: “Atlas: Eight”— Sleeping at last / “Bellbottoms”— The Jon Spencer Blues Explosion / Home- Vince Staples / “3 Nights”- Dominic Fike

Till The End Masterlist / Of The Line Masterlist

_____________________

YN’s heart pounded as her fingers flew across the keyboard on her phone, spamming Giovanna and Natasha and hoping— praying to the Gods that they were alive. She could handle them being in a hospital, but been blown to bits was another story entirely.

To: The Baddest Bitch

‘ARE YOU ALIVE’

Her hands shook, and she dropped into the chair behind her when she saw the three jumping dots at the bottom of the screen as Giovanna began to reply. Steve heard the movement and rushed around the table, pulling up another seat and leaning forward on his knees.

“Are they okay?” He asked, and she looked up, both knees bouncing nervously. His hands reached out and settled them both, and she sucked in a breath, finally focussing on the man in front of her.

“I think so. It think they’re okay.” She let out a rush of air as she spoke and looked back down to her phone.

From: The Baddest Bitch

‘We’re okay.’

Immediately, she pulled the link she had saved from the news articles she had read in the past three minutes and sent them to her.

To: The Baddest Bitch

‘Did u see this’

Attachment: ‘Officials have released a video of a suspect who they have identified as James Buchanan Barnes…'

Almost immediately, YN’s phone ran and she gave a weak smile to Steve and stood, ignoring the brush of his fingers against her thighs as she walked to the window and answered the phone.

“What the hell?” Was Giovanna’s immediate statement. YN placed her hand high on the window and leaned against it, pressing her forehead against the warm glass.

“We’re trying to figure out what happened. Are you okay? How’s Nat?” Her voice was quiet and rushed and worried.

“We’re fine. Couple of scratches, no concussions, minimal bruising, no extensive damage. We were pretty lucky that Prince T’Challa was so aware fo everything. I lost Natasha in the crowd, but she’s okay.” YN turned to see Steve walking up to her, seemingly under the impression YN would give him he phone. “What’s the plan?” Asked Giovanna.

“The plan? You know our plans never work. We plan, we get there, all hell breaks loose.” YN replied and she heard her friend laugh before Steve grabbed the phone from YN’s hand.

“There is no plan. You stay where you are, Stark or so help me.” His voice was strong and it boomed around the room. YN only rolled her eyes and snatched the phone back.

“You and I both know that line never works with us, Captain.” YN teased, and he glared at her before stalking back to the table where Sharon and Sam were talking.

“I’l text you anything we discover. When we get coordinates, are we going to expect to make a pitstop in Vienna?” YN said, voice hushed as she turned her back and stared out over the city. Giovanna scoffed and YN smirked.

“Obviously, Banner. Ciao.” And with that, Giovanna hung up and YN turned, joining Steve’s side and nudging him.

“So much for that retirement date, huh?” She asked and he looked down at her, sadness filling his eyes and he rested his hand on her back lightly.

“I’m sorry, Sweetheart. I promise one day, but this—“

“Hey, if Giovanna had been missing for 70 years and I could have the chance to find her again, you bet I’d put everything else on hold. I understand.” She murmured and he offered her a small smile. She shrugged and turned back to the TV.

“I want sushi. And bowling. Maybe a walk in the park.” She commented, and he chuckled just low enough for her to hear.

“I’ll give you that and the world once this is over, YN.” He whispered, and she let the shivers from his voice and the baritone in his words travel from the top of her scalp to her tailbone.

“Also, Gio wants us to pick her up.”

“Absolutely not,” He replied shortly, meaning for his tone to suggest no area of push-back.

“You can tell her that, then.” She cocked her head, not looking at him but smiling all the same.

________________________

YN came out of the back of the quintet to the cockpit where Steve and Sam were sitting. She had pulled her stealth suit on and her new leather gloves squeaked as she rested her hands on Steve’s shoulder.

“What’s he doing in Bucharest, I wonder?” She pondered and was met with no response. Instead, she squeezed Steve’s shoulder hard enough for him o feel it though his armour and wandered back to the seats, curling up beside Giovanna.

“Why’re you both moping around again?” She asked, coordinating her suits watch.

“We had a date planned, actually.” YN said casually, and Giovannas head shot up.

“WHAT?!” She squealed, but immediately hushed her voice. “What? When did this happen?”

“Just after you left us in London. We both realized we’d be civilians and there would be no reason to not try something between us.” YN replied, picking at her nails.

“So, what’re you going to do?” Giovanna asked eagerly and YN laughed humourlessly.

“Nothing. We’re going against the law and finding Bucky ourselves. Best case scenario, we’d have to go through months of trials before we could even think about it.” YN grumbled, and rubbed her eyes.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, YN.”

“Me too. But I get it— I’d do the same thing for you.” She smiled weakly and Giovanna rolled her eyes.

“You are both too nice and too selfless and I’m actually going to have to curb stomp some sense into both of you, aren’t I?” She asked and YN huffed a laugh.

“Maybe even shoot us up a little bit. You know how much we need it.”

________________________

“Gio— head up to the seventh floor, I’ll be with you in like, thirty seconds, okay?” YN asked and when YN’s eyes darted over to Steve she nodded in realization. “Stev— Captain, can I have a word?”

“What’s up?” Steve asked, walking towards her and away from Sam who took that as his cue of dismissal. There was a sound of a rocket blasting off, and Steve and YN were left alone. YN walked up to him and wrapped her fist around the straps of his harness.

“I just— don’t get your hopes up too high. I know he’s your person, but he may be scared and he might fight or flee—“ She began to ramble, trying to avoid what she wanted to say to him.

“You’re cute when you ramble, you know that? He cooed and her eyes shot up to his, blushing furiously and shaking his harness nervously, trying to fight the giddy feeling of him openly flirting with her.

“And—“ she sucked in a breath as she nervously tightened his straps and then loosened them again. “Stay safe. I really need you to be okay at the end of the day.”

When YN looked at him, she was pleased to see that his cheeks were as red as she colours on his shield. He shifted from one foot to the next, and placed his hand on her waist nervously.

“I’ll do my best, Ma’am.” He said, voice low and just for her to hear. She let herself soften slightly and then before she could get out of her pre-mission headspace, straightened up and backed away. The schoolgirl grin that was on her face only seconds before was quickly replaced by the cockiest smirk he had ever seen her wear, and the say fo her hips as she backed away from him had his uniform feeling suddenly too-tight.

“You got that right, Captain.”

__________________________

To say the fight in the apartment was a disaster would be an understatement. The chase down the stairwell was a grand one, and YN had her breath knocked frothier lungs on more than one occasion as she jumped from landing to landing, chasing the feral, frightened Bucky Barnes to the fifth floor fo the building.

“Sam, gimme a ride, please!” She shouted as she chased Bucky, Steve and their new friend— someone in a black catsuit— over the edge of the building and onto the freeway beside the adjacent building. She gave him no time to respond, and instead, flung herself off the side of the building spread eagle in hopes that someone would catch her.

Her prayers were granted by a flying pigeon who seemed to only know English curse words.

“Fucking hell, YN! You can’t fucking do that without telling me where the hell you are! Are you crazy?” He screamed into his comms as if she couldn’t hear him only two feet away from her. She knew he was yelling so loud into his earpiece so Steve would be able to hear their conversation and she would be reprimanded for it.

“I have to be crazy to be your friend, Wilson!” She snarked back and he faked dropping her, making her squeal.

“Drop me and I’ll make you into broth, Chicken!” She snarled and he flew under the roof of the tunnel.

“I’d link to see you try, Banner! Where do you want me to drop you?” He asked, and she surveyed the cars below her.

“See that police SUV? Drop me on the roof, I’ll take care of everything else.” She replied and she could almost feel him groan. He did what she asked,, however, and dropped her soundly on the roof.

The van swerved at the sound of a body hitting them, and she poked her head over the side of it, smiling wildly through the open window at the driver and the officer in his passenger side.

“I need a ride, do you mind?” She asked, reaching in and opening the door, pulling the seatbelt from the car itself and throwing it and the driver out onto the freeway. She slipped in, gripped the steering wheel, and used her left foot to press the gas, using her right leg to reach up and kick the officer in the jaw hard enough for him to fall unconscious.

She didn’t bother with a witty one liner, instead swerving the car and righting herself, speeding and weaving cleanly through traffic.

Soon, she caught sight of Steve, sprinting full speed after Bucky Barnes who was still forty feet in front of him. She pressed her foot harder to the gas, and in not time, she was pulling up beside him, slowing down to keep pace until he looked over at her.

“Hey, handsome! Need a ride, or something?” She asked, and watched as he almost tripped. She sped up and slowed down on the other side of him, feeling his weight hopping onto the side of the vehicle before the passenger side door was ripped off, making her jump.

“Was that necessary?” She asked, still keeping her eyes on the road. Steve looked as if he was about to throw the officer from his seat and onto the road, but decided instead to throw him into the backseat where he remained silent and unconscious.

“What the hell did you do to him?” He asked, gripping the handle of the roof as she drove quickly and recklessly, making his heart settle in his throat.

“I just kicked him in the face.” She stated, jerking the wheel and slamming the side of the car into a van that had just pulled up to her side, shattering her window and making glass fly across the SUV.

“Fuck!” She swore and turned into the van harder until it spun out and was left in a cloud of burnt rubber smoke.

“Where the hell did you learn how to drive like this?!” Steve screamed, shouting as she burst through the sandbags dividing the median.

“Florida!” She replied, smiling over at him quickly before looking forward and seeing Bucky just up ahead. Just as she was about to pull up on him, his gate stuttered as a motorbike approached, and YN watched with her jaw on the floor as he grabbed the bikes handle, jumped, spun the bike in the air, landed on it, and sped off at 100 miles an hour.

“Holy shit that was—“ YN half-moaned into the comms, and Giovanna cut her off.

“The hottest thing I’ve ever fucking seen?” She finished. YN made a noise of agreement and pressed the gas pedal to the floor.

“That’s going into the Kleenex Files.” She stated and Giovanna let out a crow of laughter. Steve, able to put one and two together, coughed awkwardly and YN looked over at him sheepishly.

“Sorry, Cap.” She smiled and he only shook his head. She pressed the ‘off’ button on her comm and looked over at Steve as she spun in a diagonal 360 circle to avoid the police car barricade halfway through the tunnel. She heard Steve swear as she straightened out and caught up to Bucky.

“Just so you know, Cap— Bucky has nothing on you in my Kleenex Files.” She crooned and winked and pressed the ‘on’ button to her comm system before he could pick his jaw up from the floor.

“You’re gonna catch flies, Rogers.” She chided and reached over, shutting his mouth with a click and preening under his shock.

“Can you both stop talking dirty for one second while we chase Steve’s best friend?” Sam shouted into the mic. “I also have a tail! Can someone his this crazy cat man off my foot, please?” He shouted, ands prayers were answered but he rose gold and pearl body of armour that was Giovanna.

YN pulled her gaze from Steve in time to see the bridge collapse due to an explosion— likely from Bucky who was already on the other side. YN pulled the e-brake quickly and the SUV skidded sideways to the wall fo falling rubble and as if Steve could read her mind, he launched himself from the car, through the rubble and after Bucky who was now grounded by the Cat-Man.

YN pulled the E-Brake off and sped forward cutting off some of the arriving police cars and watching in horror as officers slammed Bucky to the ground, cuffing him immediately and pulling guns on Steve, Giovanna, Sam and the new guy. Soon, Rhodey joined the Force, holding his palms out to his friends and waiting as YN was pulled roughly from the car and slammed down beside Bucky, heavy metal cuffs constricting her movement immediately. Her face was smushed to the hard concrete as she listened to Steve and Giovanna scream for her release, but not daring to move due to the guns pointed at their temples.

“Congratulations, Captain— you and your pals are criminals.”

_________________________

The cuffs on YN’s wrists were irritating, but at least her hands were in front of her and at least she wasn’t framed for boxing the UN and was shoved into a glass cage.

Things could be worse.

“YOU’RE A CRIMINAL?” Tony Stark screamed as they entered the offices where he and Natasha were waiting for them. His eyes were livid behind his red sunglasses and they were dead set on Giovanna who looked less than remorseful.

“Better than a coward.” She snarled back and YN raised her eyebrows, twisting her wrists absently. Steve shifted from one foot to the other nervously and leaned into YN to whisper in her ear.

“If we retired we wouldn’t have this kind of entertainment.” He murmured and YN, despite their current situation, bit her lip to repress a chuckle.

“As if they’d leave us alone for a second.” She replied and he nudged her playfully. YN looked away from him and warmth still in her eyes, looked at Natasha who was watching the exchange with a little smile on her face. She offered YN a small nod and looked down to her hands. Immediately, Natasha’s eyebrows furrowed and she looked at the armed guards behind the group.

“Why the hell is she in cuffs, huh?” She growled, calling attention to herself and YN who looked at the ground and tried to make herself smaller. She knew the reason— she was dangerous. It was in her nature to be dangerous, apparently.

“She’s a—“

“I don’t give a damn what you think she is.” Natasha growled, taking steps towards the guard who had been stupid enough to speak. “Uncuff her. Now.”

“Yes ma’am.” He repleid, his voice and hands shaking as he slid the key into YN’s handcuffs and pulling her free. She rubbed her wrists almost immediately, purple bruises appearing int he metals absence. She understood— law enforcement could be a little… overzealous sometimes.

After she had been freed, Steve had been beckoned away from YN who sat beside a stewing Giovanna and awkward Sam— surprisingly, it had been his first time with a front row seat to a Stark Fight.

“Wild, hey?” YN asked, pulling Giovanna closer and smiling up at Sam.

“Like real life Kardashians.”

________________________

“You know you shouldn’t have done this, right? He’s your dad, babe.” YN cooed and rested her head against Giovanna’s as she watched Tony and Steve talking int he soundproof office int he middle fo the room. They had been waiting a while, now and the more Steve sat in the room with Tony, the more agitated he got, and the more YN had to squeeze her thighs together at his darkened expression.

“Not only would you guys be having all the anti-governemtn fun without me, but Dad’s been a real jerk about it and frankly, the Accords aren’t something I believe in.” Giovanna muttered back and YN patted her thigh.

“They’re not even logical, Bubba.” She whispered back and Giovanna giggled into her shoulder.

Just as Giovanna and YN settled down and closed their eyes for a pre-incarceration nap, the lights turned out, red safety lights filling the room and a siren blaring somewhere in the building.

Tony had left the room already, which lead Sharon to lead Steve out of the glass office and over to Giovanna, Sam and YN.

“Sub-level 5, we got to go.” She rushed, not even offering any of them a smile as she handed YN a gun. “Go with Steve, I’ll take Gio downstairs to find out what’s going on.”

Before Sharon could turn and run after Giovanna, YN caught her arm and stared hard at Sharon.

“You better watch her six, Sharon or so help me God.”

“You take care of Steve.” She said back, eyebrow raised in challenge. YN glared hard at her and let go, sprinting after Sam and Steve and shoving the gun in the belt of her jeans she had changed in to.

The floor was quiet when the three of them arrived. No sirens, no voices, just flashing lights. There was a sound of someone shuffling on the ground followed by a weak ‘help me’, and without hesitation, YN started forward with Steve hot on her heels.

They saw the therapist on the floor, moving like some wounded child and YN watched as Steve lifted him from the ground and slammed him into the wall hard enough to make all the air rush out of the therapists lungs.

God, if only that were her.

“What do you want?” Steve growled— a low baritone sound that made YN’s head spin. The therapist caught his breath and looked from Steve, to YN, to Sam and then to a point on the far wall by the door and smirked.

“To see an empire fall.”

Suddenly, Sam was thrown across the room by some dark, hulking figure who wasted no time in stomping over to YN and throwing a hard punch. Bucky. It was Bucky. No.

She dodged it quickly, hadn’t shooting to the small of her back to grab her gun. She aimed a kick at the soldiers ribs which landed soundly and then dodged a slap from he metal arm to punch him quickly int he throat. The hit only seemed to aggravate him, however, and he grew more aggressive. His hits became stronger, and more precise and it wasn’t until he faked a kick that YN was hit square int he cheekbone by the metal arm— not enough to kill, but possibly enough to break.

She landed on the ground with a hard thud, head bouncing and YN could feel her nose begin to gush blood almost on contact. She watched through slow blinks the fight between Steve and Bucky. Steve managed to keep up easily enough— through angry cries that made YN’s heart swell to grunts as his punch landed particularly hard. Her blinks slowed even more so, and it wasn’t long until Yn watched as Steve was thrown against the elevator shaft. She wanted to cry out when he finally fell down the shaft, but she found herself unable to.

Steve was gone. And YN closed her eyes, and slept.

________________________

“YN, Sweetheart, wake up.” She heard distantly. /Sweetheart/. That’s what Steve called her. She opened her eyes and moaned, fighting the urge to throw up when the pounding of her migraine made her brain feel like processed food.

“Steve?” She slurred, and looked around. Her eyes landed not on a light grey shirt, but on a dark grey one, and the voice was deeper and smoother.

“Not quite, honey.” Sam said, pushing her hair from her face with a soft hand. YN hummed and leaned into the touch.

“Steve’s dead, isn’t he?” She whispered and his eyebrows raised.

“I don’t think so?”

“He fell down the elevator shaft, though.” She mumbled, thoughts still jumbled and messy.

“No, he’s okay. I know where he and Bucky are. Giovanna is on her way there. We gotta go, Honey.” He whispered, pulling her arm around his neck and helping her to her feet. She moaned in pain and leaned into him.

“Remind me to never get in the way of his metal hand again, okay?”

“You got it. Your face looks like Barney’s beauty routine.”

“Thanks, asshole.”

________________________

Giovanna had sat her down on the floor immediately after seeing the purple blossoming on YN’s face and the blood still heavily dripping from her nose. She did a quick medical exam to the best of her ability, and was able to rule out a concussion or any fractures.

“He must have pulled his punch— you’re lucky.” She said, turning off the flashlight on her phone and placing it in her pocket.

“And are you okay?” YN checked in, not able to tear her eyes from the black bruise swelling on Giovanna’s neck. It looked suspiciously like a handprint, but YN did her best to mind her own business. It wasn’t Bucky who hurt her best friend— she had no grounds to walk over there right now and kid him in the nuts.

“Fine.” She replied shortly. Steve walked in then, talking into YN’s phone he had borrowed and saying a fond-sounding farewell to whoever was not he other line. He hung up, and walked over to the girls and handed YN her phone back.

“Thank you, YN. I’m gonna fix this, I promise. Gio, do you have some ice?” He asked, reaching out and touching YN’s swelled cheekbone softly. YN held back a wince, and tried her best to smile at him reassuringly. She was sure it looked more like a pained grimace, but Steve seemed to relax at the motion.

“Yeah, I’ll just pull it out of my ass, Rogers. Gimme a second.” Giovanna mocked, slapping his hand away from YN’s face. YN could see how tired Giovanna was, and shook her head at Steve when he opened his mouth to reply. He looked at YN, instead and lowered his head in a nod before walking over to where Sam had called for him.

YN looked down at her phone and she could have thrown it across the room when she saw who he had phoned.

Sharon Carter.

“What if he likes her more than me?” Yn mumbled, picking at her nails sullenly. Giovanna scoffed and took the phone away from her.

“What if he didn’t look at you like you pulled the sun out of your ass do you mean? He likes you, get over yourself.” She muttered and sat back against the wall while the boys talked.

“She’s closer to his age. She’s a little more badass— don’t look at me like that, we both know she’s super cool. And she’s related to his first great love. What more could he want.” YN grumbled and Giovanna wanted nothing more than to actually punch her best friend’s other cheekbone in that very second.

“You’re so stupid, holy shit. He likes you, okay? And she’s Peggy’s great-niece. How weird would that be? Get over yourself and realize he loves you. This isn’t some high school bullshit, YN.” Giovanna scolded and YN could only stare at her hands gloomily.

“Kay.” She replied simply and Giovanna bumped their shoulders.

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

____________________

It was only hours after they had set up camp int he warehouse that YN, Steve, Bucky, Giovanna and Sam were huddled in buggy that was most certainly not meant for more than three medium sized people. YN was sat in the front seat (at Steve’s request. Giovanna gave her a look that said ‘i told you so’) and she was ready for the world to collapse any god damn second.

Steve and Sharon stood in front of them, smiling and laughing at each other as she risked her career getting them all their suits and weapons and gear for Moscow.

“They’re standing too close.” She grumbled and all she heard was two amused huffs.

“You two stand closer together.” Giovanna said.

“Look at the way he looks at her.” She replied.

“He looks at you like you could kill a baby and he’d still be wrapped around your finger.” Sam chided.

“I can’t believe this.” YN muttered, sinking further into the seat and Giovanna groaned for what seems like the thirtieth time that day.

“Will you stop pouting, bitch?”

“Look at them! They’re getting closer! Didn’t you say they went on two dates or something? Oh my god, they’re going to kiss I can’t look.” She rushed, covering her eyes with her fingers but still peaking through them.

“Sei una testa di cazzo.” Giovanna mumbled and it was Bucky this time that chuckled. YN adjusted the rearview mirror to glare at her best friend.

“Just because you know one more language than me doesn’t mean you ca use it to be mean, okay?” She grumbled and Giovanna giggled, turning her head into Bucky’s shoulder. “I know that was an insult. You’re a whore.” She bit and Giovanna seems to laugh more.

“Non ho mai detto di no.” Giovanna grinned wolfishly and YN rolled her eyes, flipping her off through the mirror.

“Are you and Steve dating?” Wondered Bucky and YN choked on her own spit, making Sam and Giovanna howl with laughter.

“Do I look like his girlfriend?!” YN snapped defensively. Bucky raised his eyebrows, reading the room and knowing by Sam and Giovanna’s (pretty) laugh he shouldn’t take her grumpiness personally.

“Yeah.” Sam giggled, and Giovanna snorted. Bucky looked down at her fondly— a look that didn’t pass by YN herself.

“You sound like his girlfriend, that’s for sure.” Giovanna chortled.

“Juu ya punda wako.” YN cursed at her and she only roared with laughter again.

“It’s a very, very long story, but yeah— both of them want to bone the shit out of each other.” Giovanna wiped tears from her eyes.

“Bone?” Giovanna looked up at Bucky and YN watched as her face melted for him. A soft, glow-y smile spread across her face and a faint blush rose to her cheeks, making YN blink in surprise. Giovanna Stark never blushed.

“Bumpin’ uglies, man. Doing the deed. Bam-bam in the ham. Horizontal tango. Hanky Panky.” Sam listed off all the names for sex he could on each of his fingers and YN turned away from them, folding her arms against her chest and pouting. “Even tin-man can see it, and he’s been here for three seconds.”

“He and Sharon are friends, YN. I promise.” Giovanna said sudden serious. “Plus she’s been pining after Maria for like, two years now?”

YN turned her head so fast that she was sure her nose began to bleed again.

“What did you just say?”

“Are you shitting me? You didn’t see that coming!” Sam laughed, holding his stomach through peels of laughter. YN turned back to look at Sharon then, and her jaw dropped when Steve picked up all the gear and leaned down so Sharon could kiss his cheek sweetly.

“See?! What the fuck was that?” YN stage-whispered. “Lesbian my ass.”

Steve walked around the car swiftly as Sharon pulled out of the parking garage, slamming their trunk and then getting into the car again. YN picked her nails, appearing to seem nonchalant while everyone in the car knew that it was a nervous tick of hers.

“What’s with all the whispering?” She asked casually. Steve looked at her as he buckled up his seatbelt and put the car in reverse.

“Stuff.” He placed his hand on the back of YN’s headrest and he leaned over to see out of the back window. He intentionally closed in on YN slightly and smiled softly to himself as she shifted nervously.

“And she wanted Maria’s number.” He stated simply and put the car in drive, speeding down the ramp and out onto the street.

Oh, if Giovanna could get her phone she’d set YN’s expression as her wallpaper for the next eighteen years.

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