#its never resolved. and sir. sir. that is a trauma

[soldier-poet-king]

Ik halsin was a last minute addition but I kinda wish he had a full romance route ngl. Like. He's not normally my type of man but I am not immune to his treetrunk arms, kindhearted gentle trustworthiness, and stupid whittling of wooden ducks. The old worn sadness in his eyes. The burden of unwanted leadership. The hundreds of years of work to correct a past percieved mistake. The unending compassion for literally everyone, but esp children & the tiefling refugees. The wanderer and free spirit who, without giving up his freedom, finally finds a purpose, a reason to stop wandering, a devoted goal for his heart. He's SAFE and KIND and I like that in a man.

[flyiingsly]

Shelter from the storm

Square : Snow

Pairing : Dogma x gn!jedi!reader

Warnings : Swoop bike accident, mention of light head trauma, mention of death and of battle of Orto Plutonia, fluff, Dogma being shy and cute, featuring a thermos of caf

Wordcount : 5,3K

Summary : During a mission on Orto Plutonia, you and Dogma find yourselves separated from the rest of your group, forced the seek shelter for the night to not freeze to death in the snow.

A/N : My eighth submission for the @clonexreaderbingo, half way down already ! 😄 I wanted to write something cute and fluffy for Dogma, so here it is, enjoy ❤

Disclaimer : I'm still struggling to understand English grammar properly, English is not my native language and even if I have proofread my writtings several times, there is probably still typos in it. I'm very self conscious about it and I apologize for it in advance, but I'm doing my best to do better and I'm actively working at improving my writting skills !

So if you spot a typo, feel free to point it to me so I can correct it, it will be much appreciated :)

“Follow me closely, keep your eyes on my bike, don’t lose sight !” Rex shouts through his commlink. “Yes sir !” you heard several members of the squadron answer.

You had been deployed on Orto Plutonia after that all contacts with the Republic’s outpost established on the cold planet were lost. You knew that what you were about to find there was going to be awful, and it was. The building had been attacked and there where not a single living men left in it.

But the whole situation turned even worse when the Pantoran Chairman that was accompanying you decided to declare war to the native alien species living near the outpost after you found out that they were responsible of the attack.

You, Obi-Wan, Anakin and Senator Chuchi had done your best to calm him down and make him drop the idea, but nothing had worked, he was too entitled and aggressive, and the three of you, as Jedis, had no rights to go against his will.

Unfortunately, even if the Senator was able to resolve the situation in the end, your troops still were forced to engage into a deadly fight, leading to the death of a lot of your men as well as the Chairman himself, and of several poor aliens that didn’t ask for nothing but keep living their peaceful life on their own. It was a complete and preventable disaster.

And to worsen the situation, on your ride back to the outpost after the confrontation, a snow storm decided to broke out. It took you all by surprise, and it appeared to be very violent. The wind suddenly blew stronger, making your race harder by slowing and throwing your vehicles off balance. The snow that was only seconds before peacefully falling was now forming big opaque whirls, blurring your vision and making it impossible to see past a few meters in front of you. You could feel the motor of your bike struggling and sputtering to keep the pace of the ride.

“We’re never gonna make it !” Jesse’s voice bursts. You were riding close to each other already, but you had gathered even more after Rex’s call. “The engines are not gonna support that weather for too long !”

“We have to !”, Obi-Wan answers him, “We can’t stop or we’re gonna get completely lost, we’re on the right way to the outpost, it won’t be long anymore ! We cannot compromise the safety of the Senator, we have to make it back !”

“Stay as close as possible from one another, it’s gonna be ok !” Anakin adds.

You had a very bad feeling about this, and you probably weren’t the only one.

Only a few minutes later, what was obviously going to happen finally happened : one of the bike on your left started to badly misfunctioned. Smoke started to escape from its hood, then you heard a crack, soon followed by an explosion, and the man next to you was no longer here. You were so close that you felt the warmth of the explosion through your clothes despite the cold.

“Dogma ! Captain, we lost Dogma !” you hear Tup desperately screams.

You didn’t hesitate a second and broke the formation, braking abruptly and turning around.

“(Y/n), what are you doing ? We can’t stop here, come back !” a confused Obi-Wan addresses you.

“And I can’t let one of my men in the middle of nowhere to freeze to death ! Go on, I’ve got the map on my datapad, I go get him and I’ll catch up with you at the outpost !”

He couldn’t say much, he knew how deeply you cared for your troops, and even if your move was highly dangerous and unreasonable, he knew he couldn’t do anything to stop you.

“Right then, be careful (y/n), please !”

“I’ll do my best.”

You had a hard time finding him. He got ejected several meters away from his bike when it hit the ground. Said bike was now reduced to a fuming mess half buried in the snow. You were able to locate him thanks to his force signature, the only one you could perceive from miles around. When you finally reached him, he was unconscious, lying face down.

“Dogma !” you call to him, picking him up and holding him in your arms.

“Dogma, can you hear me ?” you try again. No answer came from him. It was clear that he couldn’t hear anything.

You hesitated for a moment, but you finally decided to remove his helmet, as his special anti-cold armor wasn’t allowing you to check neither his breath nor his heartbeat. You knew it wasn’t something to do with someone wearing a helmet after such a violent shock, but you had to make sure he was still alive before attempting to do anything more.

You carried him toward your own vehicle, settling him down, his back against the still warm metal, then carefully took off his helmet. His eyes were closed and he wasn’t reacting to the manipulation, his head falling straight on the side as soon as it wasn’t supported anymore. You were completely frightened, but you did your best to stay focused, removing one of your gloves and slipping your fingers under the turtleneck of his blacks to search for a pulse. You let out a sigh of relief when you felt his heart still pumping under his skin. He was still breathing too, but it was so subtle that you hadn’t noticed it at first, for it wasn’t even strong enough to create steam in the cold air.

You gently cupped his cheek with your bare hand, calling his name again and brushing your thumb against his skin to try to wake him up.

Suddenly, his head twitched, and he slowly opened his eyes, his eyelashes fluttering a couple of times until his eyes were adjusted to the luminosity. There still was a bit of sunrays piercing through the clouded sky, but you knew that night would soon be falling upon you.

“Ho thanks Maker !” you breath out.

“Where are we ? What happened ?” he groggily asks.

“Your bike got a bad engine problem, it crashed, and you got ejected, I don’t think we can save it … We’ll had to reach the outpost with mine, I hope it’s gonna support the weather this time …” you did your best not to sound too worried.

“How do you feel ?” you then ask him in a softer tone.

“Fine, I guess …” he answers, looking at his legs and arms, trying to move them, “My limbs are still functioning, so it’s gonna be ok, just got a little headache, but nothing much.”

“Good …” you smile at him before handling him his helmet. “I think you’re gonna need this !”

“Thanks General !” he puts it back on quickly, trying to hide the blush creeping on his cheeks due to your unexpected closeness.

You noticed it anyway, but put the blame on the aggressive cold. You stand up on your feet and offered him your hand. He took it without hesitation, but stumbled a bit on his feet once upright. You caught his arm to prevent him from falling and helped him regain his balance.

You were wearing a pair of snow goggles and a big furry hood was framing your face, and when your eyes met his at that moment, the concerned look you gave him make his heart melt and his cheeks burn even more.

He would never have admitted it, but you always had that effect on him. Of course, he was admiring you as his General, as he was admiring every of his superior at first, but quickly, it became something more. A lot of his brothers caught him blushing or getting all flustered after speaking with you on several occasions, even though he was putting all of his energy into hiding it. He got teased about that a couple times already. So of course, having the chance to spend some time alone with you was very pleasing, although he would have preferred doing it in other circumstances. He was a very professional and dedicated soldier, but when you were near him, he couldn’t help his mind to be attracted by your presence.

“We have to go, we don’t have much time until dawn, Kix will examinate you once we’ll arrive, are you gonna be ok until then ?” your voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

“Yes, yes sure !”

You hopped on your speeder, gesturing him to sit behind you.

“Hold on to me” you say, starting the engine. He hesitated for a second, but finally wrapped his arms around your waist. It was the sign you needed to move forward. He was a total blushing mess at that point and was very glad to have his helmet on to cover it.

Unfortunately, it didn’t take long for the motor to start weakening and for the vehicle to start shaking and dangerously get closer to the ground. You could feel the resistance of the wind pushing against the metal panel and the struggling of the engine.

“Ho kriff !” you grumble when you noticed the smoke filling your field of vision.

You slowed down but it was too late, you felt the temperature of the mechanism increase under your feet, and you prayed for it to hold on a bit longer, before a violent cracking sound ringed in your ears, ruining all your hopes.

All you could do was clench your teeth and try your best to land it safely. When it finally stopped moving in a last hiccup, you just stay here, handlebars still in hands and eyes widen, completely still, processing what had just happened.

“Ho kriff ….” you mutter again.

It was now really getting darker, and the storm seemed thicker than before. Things can always become worst you thought to yourself.

“What are we doing now ?” a huffed and nervous voice emerged from behind you.

You let your hands slipped off the handles and looked around you.

“I think we need to move” you picked up your datapad from your coat’s pocket and opened the map of the area. Dogma loosens his grip around you to look over your shoulder, the remains of his headache still tickling him.

“I don’t exactly know where we are, but according to that map, we must be near some ice cave. The outpost is too far for us to reach on foot, the night is falling quickly, and the weather seems to get worse. We don’t have any other choice but to find that cave, it’s our only chance to survive.” You jumped from your seat and turned toward him. “Is that ok with you ?”

You couldn’t hide your anxiety anymore, and he felt bad for you. After all, all of this was his fault, you could have leave him here in the snow and you would be perfectly safe and warm by now.

“Yes, General, don’t worry, we’re gonna make it !” he tries to reassure you.

You smiled at his positivity.

“Of course we will, Sergeant.”

Before you started to walk, you tried to contact Obi-Wan with your commlink to inform him of your situation. When he picked up the call, you knew at his voice that he was very worried about you, even if he was trying to keep his tone as calm as possible and a bit moralizing.

Soon, Anakin threw himself in the conversation, quickly joined by Ahsoka. They, too, were worried, but weren’t even trying to hide it. After telling them that Dogma was safe and that you were planning on reaching a nearby shelter, it was decided that you were going to spend the night there, and that a rescue unit will come and find you in the morning. But for now, it was just the two of you against the sky unleashing his rage and darkness on the little planet.

The search for the cave was very difficult and exhausting. You were blessing your electrobinoculars right now, you would be doomed without them, although you knew that their battery was running low. You held Dogma’s hand the whole time, for you couldn’t clearly hear each other with the wind, and your eyes sight was very short. Getting separated would mean getting lost, and probably dying all alone in this mess of a weather.

It was completely dark outside when you found the cave. Fortunately, the entrance was wide enough for you not to miss it, and you didn’t hesitate a second before rushing in.

As you go further and further down its galleries, you finally stumbled upon a large cavity. It was the perfect place to establish a makeshift camp, the space was wide enough for the two of you to lay down, and there was no sign of potentially dangerous creature.

“Finally, we’re safe” you sigh in relief, taking off your backpack. You fell all the pressure of the previous race against time disappearing from your shoulders. Dogma took off his helmet and look around him, sweeping the ceiling of the space with his torchlight.

“Don’t worry” you reassure him with a soft smile, “if it’s been strong enough to support all of the ice and snow from above, we have nothing to worry about.”

You turn on your commlink again to give Obi-Wan an update on your situation. As previously, Anakin and Ahsoka stuck their noses in the conversation. But this time it seemed that there was a lot more of people around them. They were, indeed, right in the middle of taking their diner with the rest of the company.

While you were talking, you heard some kind of bustles in the back, people laughing and whispering to each other. Dogma noticed it quickly too, and as you told them to enjoy their meal, he couldn’t help but think about all of the teasing he’ll be greeting with when you’ll both come back about spending a night alone with his “favorite General”, as they say.

After describing them the path to get to the cavity, they asked you once more to be careful and stay safe, and made you swear to not get out of that cave until they found you, which you, of course, agreed with. You wished them good night and hang out the call.

“Well, let’s light a fire!” you tell your comrade with all the enthusiasm left in you.

You had two emergency backpacks in your possession, which was a blessing since each one was filled with a fire starter package, rations bars, basic medical equipment, and a survival blanket. You used yours to start the fire, Dogma’s one will be used to extend its life later.

The fire wasn’t big, but it was enough to keep you warm in that confined space. As the draught from the wind raging in the principal tunnel was ventilating the space, the risk of suffocating wasn’t a problem.

You didn’t talk much at first, focused on starting the fire. Once the flames were vigorous enough, you both sat in front of them in silence, tired but relieved, waiting for your freezing bodies to catch up some warmth.

After a moment, you finally found the courage to remove your coat and armor, much to Dogma’s surprise, whose eyes widened when he realized what you were doing, quickly looking away.

“Hu, General ? What are you doing ? You’re gonna catch a cold !”

“Actually, we’re wet to the bone because of the melting snow, and our armors are just retaining that wetness in our clothes, we’ll never get rid of it if we don’t allow the fabric to dry … I think that removing them can only help … It’s by keeping our armors and that kriffing wetness against our skins that we’re gonna catch a cold in my opinion … And to be honest, I can’t stand the shivering anymore, it’s exhausting …” you let out.

Every inch separating you from the fire was an additional loss of warmth. The perimeter on which the heat had an incidence wasn’t that large, so you tried to get undressed as quickly as possible.

At the sight of your body only covered with your blacks, the soldier started to blush heavily again. It wasn’t the first time he had seen you like that, of course, you had to share the same barracks as your men a couple of times during missions, but this time, it was different, it was just the two of you. He tried his best to keep his eyes focused on the fire, he had way too much respect for you to allow himself to stare.

When you sat back near the flames, you pulled your pieces of armor within your reach so they could dry too. You were cold and still violently shaking at first, but you knew it was gonna get better soon. You curled your body up in a thigh ball as near from the flames as possible. You had to wait for your blacks to dry before covering yourself in an emergency blanket, or your efforts would have been vain.

“You should do it too”, you tell him, turning your head toward him while keeping it settled on top of your folded knees, “I don’t want you to get sick.”

You saw him hesitate, and you couldn’t blame him, it wasn’t looking very comfortable. You gave him an encouraging smile, for you were already starting to feel warmer yourself, the shiver disappearing slowly.

“Please, Dogma, get out of that armor, we’re safe here, you’re not gonna need it, trust me, you’re just gonna freeze to death with it, I saw that before and I don’t want it to happen to you … Can you do that for me ?”

He finally gave up, unable to resist your words. Standing up on his feet, he turned toward the wall of the cave, moving away from a few steps, then started to remove his armor as well.

“Thank you” you whisper, looking back at the fire to give him more privacy.

When he came back next to you, you felt his embarrassment floating in the air, even without looking at him. You kept your eyes locked on the flames and didn’t say anything to let him some time to calm down. You stay like that a few moments. He was shivering at first, but soon became steadier. You were right, the warmth had acted on him just has it had on you, and he was finally starting to relax.

After a few more minutes of hesitation, he finally spoke.

“You ... you were right General, I feel better now …”

“Good” you gave him a small smile, which he, most to your surprise, returned to you.

Everything in that cave seemed to be out of time. You weren’t aware of the exact weather outside since you were only hearing the constant and distant howling of the wind but nothing else, you had no idea of what time it could have been for your data pad had run out of battery a moment ago, and the warmth of the fire was the only thing that your body was perceiving.

You were safe now, the fighting and the negotiations were far away, and still being alive in the morning was the only thing that mattered anymore. And to be fair, none of you were seeing that as a big challenge at that moment.

You eventually started to talk to each other, and the more you were sharing with him, the more he started to open up to you. You had always been close to your men, you knew each of them very well, so you were aware of Dogma’s shyness and tendency to stay quiet, as well as his fierce and inflexible habit of strictly following the rules.

He was one of the latest recruits in the 501st, and like for the other before him, you had been attentive and careful with him at the beginning to help him adapt correctly to the company’s habits.

Needless to say that the 501st was … one of a kind of a battalion. He had some hard times getting used to it at first, but with some patience, he finally made it. Even if he was still arguing with his brothers (often) about their way of following orders and internally cursing his general for his reckless leading sometimes (often too, in fact).

But your presence was easing his mind. In the middle of all of this chaos, and even thought you were part of it most of the times and even encouraging it sometimes, he trusted you blindly. You were the one who gave him courage and hope in the hardest, most uncertain times, the one who restored his strength to keep fighting on battle fields that seemed already lost, the one who brought light when his mind was clouded with the darkness and pain of losing a brother.

You had always supported, protected, and held your men dear in your heart, always treating them as equals, as human more than weapons like other people usually did. You treated them as your own family, and you had created more bonds with them than most of their superiors have ever done, and it meant a lot to him, even if he had never showed it.

Even if he was a solitary one, you and the rest of the company still managed to make him come with you at the 79’ a couple times, and although he didn’t want to admit it, it was always good times for him. It made him felt a bit more part of the group when he was the lonely one most of the time, minding his business, never going sideways. He could, in those moments, finally relax a bit and think less about his burdening soldier’s duties.

In the middle of your conversation, you both realized that you were getting hungry. Reaching for your bag to grab your rations bars, you joked about getting some ice cream for dessert, since there was plenty of ice around you, making him chuckles at your silly words. He was rarely amused when his brothers were joking, especially on missions, and he was usually trying to keep a straight face at them. But here and now, there was no reason to be that serious at all.

“To be honest, I’d rather have a hot cup of caf right now if I could choose.”

You suddenly remembered that you had, indeed, brought a thermos of caf with you before leaving the base. There were water bottles in your emergency backpack, but you were afraid that they might be frozen by the time you’ll get thirsty, and as expected, they were now.

Your smile widened as you search further in your bag, and when you found it, you proudly pulled it out.

“Tadaaa !” you exclaim.

The clone was so surprised he remained speechless for a moment, eyes wide and glimmering. You offered him the bottle and he looked at you with confusion.

“Don’t you … want to keep it for yourself ?”

“That’s more than enough for the both of us, don’t worry”, you reassure him with a soft smile, “and, I’m happy to share it with you, sincerely.”

His heart skipped a bit. He knew that you were a very kind person, and it was one of the reasons why he fell for you in the first place, but it was still touching him every time he witnessed your benevolence. He found himself absent-mindedly looking at your lips, struck by a sudden urge to taste your mesmerizing smile. If he was brave enough, he would have kissed you without hesitation right now, but he quickly pushed away the inappropriate thought.

“Thank you, General …” he whispers, stretching out his arm to take the metallic container.

You were now only a few inches apart. It seemed that you had unconsciously got closer from each other while talking.

It wasn’t much, but it was still more than comforting and truly heartwarming for both of you to have some hot drink after such a rough day. You shared it straight from the bottle while eating your ration bars.

Despite the unfortunate circumstances, you really were appreciating the moment. You were both safe and none of you had been injured in the process, there was no apparent dangers around, you weren’t hungry anymore, and all that was left to do now was to rest and wait until the next morning for your comrades to find you.

So you just stay here by the fire, sharing memories of your previous missions and of funny moments spend with the rest of the company.

You were now closer as ever, shoulder to shoulder, nearly leaning on each other, speaking quietly, and bathing in the warm light. You were so concentrated of the dancing flames that you didn’t notice all the small glances Dogma was dreamingly throwing at you from time to time.

But after a moment, and despite the fire warmth, you both started to shiver again, and decided to reach for the emergency blankets that were supposed to be part of your packages. Dogma quickly reached for his and wrapped it cozily around his body, but as you were searching your backpack for yours, you suddenly remembered that it wasn’t in your possession anymore, for you had gave it to Senator Chuchi earlier in the day.

You didn’t say anything and simply sat back at your place but not as close to him as before, accepting your fate without a complain, but he still caught a glimpse of your disappointed expression.

“What’s wrong ? Are you okay ?”

“Yeah, don’t worry, it’s nothing, I just forgot that I gave my blanket to the Senator … She was starting to get cold and shaky after the battle, and I didn’t want her to get sick. I know that Pantorans are supposed to support that weather better than us, but with all the stress she had gone through lately, no wonder that her body must have been exhausted and shocked …” you mutter, curling up on yourself once again.

After that, a silence fell between you. You were starting to feel sleepy, but you couldn’t relax, you were still shivering, and even with your mind focused on the fire, you couldn’t get rid of the unpleasing sensation.

“General ?”

The Sergeant’s voice suddenly pulled you out of your thought, and your eyes let go of the distraction in front of you to land on him.

“I … I’ll be happy to share mine with you …” he shyly lets out, with a soft smile, opening one of his arms in your direction to offer you a corner of his blanket.

“Are your sure ?” you ask with wide eyes, surprised and a bit taken aback.

“Of course, I’m sure … Please, come in …” he whispers, gesturing to you to join him under the fabric.

Without hesitation, you closed the little gap between you, and once your body was pressed against his, he gently wrapped his arm and the blanket around your shoulders, enveloping you with a most welcomed warmth.

It felt strange at first, for you weren’t used to be that close to someone, but soon relaxed, and without even minding it, you ended up with one of your own arms wrapped around his waist and your head rested on his shoulder, to which he answered by gently tightening his embrace.

You stayed like that for a moment, cuddled against each other, his head rested on top of yours. You weren’t talking anymore, just enjoying the closeness. As the time passed by, weariness really took over you until your eyelids started to shut on their own and a yawn escaped your mouth, making Dogma internally melt with how cute you were when being all sleepy.

“Maybe we should … try to sleep …” you mumble, trying to fight against the invasive numbness.

“Yes, I think it could be a good idea …” he whispers.

You both agreed that the best way to stay warm during the night was to stay close to the fire to take advantage of its heat until it ran out and eventually die, but also to stay close to each other to share your body warmth as much as possible, much to his happiness.

You put down your cloak on the iced ground to use it as a makeshift mattress, and emptied your backpacks to turn them into pillows, then you both lay down, covering your bodies with the blanket. It wasn’t the most comfortable bed you’ve slept on, but right now, it was a more than a satisfying alternative.

You were both a bit nervous at first, just looking at each other shyly. But quickly, he came to crave for your contact so badly that in a sudden rush of courage, he wrapped his arms around you again to pull you toward him, pressing his entire body against yours, conscious that it will probably be his only chance to feel you that close to him.

You slowly curled up against his chest, entangling your legs with his and burying your head in the crook of his neck. You closed your eyes, focusing on the steady beating of his heart as you felt your mind helplessly drifting off to sleep.

“Goodnight, Dogma …” you breath out weakly before your brain became too misty to allow you to talk anymore.

You nearly immediately blacked out, but you still got the time to catch what seemed like his answer.

“Good night, mesh’la ...”

It sounded like a very distant echo, and you weren’t sure whether you were dreaming his words or not, but they kept ringing in your head for the whole night like a sweet lullaby.

***

It was Captain Rex and General Skywalker’s voices calling your names that woke you up the next morning.

When you opened your eyes, the first thing that you saw was Dogma sleepy face. He was struggling to keep his eyes open at first, still lost between dream and reality. But when he noticed that you were still here, even if he wasn’t asleep anymore, he suddenly felt relieved.

He was afraid that all that happened the night before was just in his head, but now that he was seeing you, so close and smiling at him, he understood that it was all real, and that what had begun like a stroke of bad luck really ended up like one of the most pleasant nights of his life.

You were now both perfectly awake, looking intensely at each other, but completely unable to move, for none of you wanted to break the comfortable embrace. In fact, all you wanted by now was for it to last forever, even though you perfectly knew it was impossible.

When the rescue team finally reach the cavity, they found you tightly cuddled under the emergency blanket, fearing that you might be dead at first, but more than happy to discover that you were both safe and sound.

Nobody dare to say anything in your presence, but as soon as Dogma ended up alone with his brothers, he was, as expected, buried under more teasing he ever had to suffer from. But he didn’t care much about it, for he was too lost in the memories of that night to bother answering them. All he was hoping for after that was to get the chance to spend another one with you, but in a more comfortable bed, so he could enjoy your closeness even more.

[dumbasswhatever]

Responding to your unrecomendation, mine would be scum villain self saving system. It's a Chinese bl novel. It's about a reader, Shen Yuan, who got isekaid into the novel he hate-read, as the villainious teacher, Shen Qingqiu, that abuses the protagonist. Ofc he strives to do the opposite within the limits of ooc. So why it would be my unrecomendation is three point:

1. Resolving the protagonist dilemma.

So the protagonist, Luo Binghe, in the og novel is a tyrant with 300+ wives so he's kinda fucked bc of his childhood trauma. He's a paranoid, power hungry and lust hungry. So ofc Shen Qingqiu tried to treat him better in this one. Except that the author doesn't extend more than that. This kid has no friends other than his childhood bestie. Where's his other friends? Classmates? Bonding between children that can help foster good emotional connection and be a normal teenager? ZERO. Author wrote him to only rely on Shen Qingqiu emotionally and never addressing his previous trauma under the og villain. It's still there!! And it effects the whole novel!!! He's emotionally unstable.

Luo Binghe was so obsessed with him he literally kept Shen Qingqius corpse in his bedroom for five fuckin years, while SQQ junior tried to get him back for a proper burial. When he did find SQQ, Luo Binghe feed him a parasite that can track him anywhere. WTF.

2. The harem.

In og novel, all women are his wives. So what happened to them in this one? Well. They do get mentioned. But barely. One was an airhead but she got more sensible and thats it. Thats all??? I know bl has issues with how they treat their female casts but damn author you could've made them lesbians at the least.

3. Shen Qingqiu himself.

Personally I see him as someone who views the protagonist as a son/student so when people said "oh the characters said that SQQ is mourning for Binghe like a widow mourning for his husband >><<" i get pissed cause father mourns too!!! Teachers mourns as well!! Does platonic relationship means nothing?? Also even if Shen Qingqiu is an unreliable narrator, I can still read that how he views Luo Binghe. Definitely not romantic. Also the fact that he was forced to became Binghe's stay at home wife when he's literally THE Head of Scholarly Peak?? Who loves to explore and record weird plants and animals? Sir. What's the damn difference than a normal het novel then?? Other than no baby and pregnancy. What's the damn difference than the og protagonist having 300+ wives who were shut in his palace than this Binghe with a man who became a shut in? HEAD IN HANDS

I have so many grievance with this book cause it could've been better. Not even counting the teacher-student relationship and many other red flags that are flying actively in this book. I am tortured with visions. Everyday im gripping the sink, saying "It could've been better. But it DIDN'T."

Definitely do not recommend 0/10 dont do this don't read this book. Its better to read other things like a textbook maybe. Sorry if this is long i can only hope that you're entertained. Best regard.

i am very entertained holy hell thank you for the essay. also this book is O_O huh. the basic concept (like making a story/character happier out of spite) sounds like it could be a very fun read but then every single other detail you listed is like hoooooooly shit. this guy's got 300 wives and doesn't have a single relationship with any of them

[separatist-apologist]

i know you said you stopped reading them, but were there any dark romances that hit just right for you? i also struggle a lot with liking the idea of a darker romance, but not wanting to read about the mmc assaulting the fmc and they just fall for them anyway. seems like too many dark romance fall under that and i'm left there like... where was the romance in this??

the only one i read recently was twisted emotions by cora reilly which is a mafia romance/arranged marriage. it's dark-ish? like *trigger warning* the fmc was abused as a child, but the mmc had zero to do with that and instead helped her heal. not a great difference, but considering the mmc wasn't the abuser i guess that's a win? i will say i did enjoy this book, but it's one of those MY GOD HIRE AN EDITOR books because i believe the author is german and there's some major spelling/grammatic errors. it was pretty blatant so that sucked, but i did enjoy the characters and i thought she did a good job (as a survivor of child abuse/SA myself) writing a survivor healing and dealing with their trauma and trusting their partner to bring them joy during sex and intimacy.

Again, beneath the cut

I have such a love/hate relationship with dark romance because I'm not opposed to dubious consent (obviously). I think my issue is a lot of dark romance thinks it can only be dark if there is this element of emotional abuse that I find difficult to deal with, especially if its not resolved.

So like, the MMC kidnaps her, or he won't let her leave his home without watching her 24/7 because she belongs to him, to the point that he controls her phone, her finances, her friends and everything else. And I think a dark romance book could start that way but there should be growth, you know? You can be possessive and also trusting? Like why CANT she leave without an escort, why do you need to watch her 24/7? Why can't she work if she wants to, why does the FMC have to give up her autonomy entirely in order for the romance to work. I don't like that and I know a lot of people do which is fine, but it doesn't feel like a happy ending.

I also don't like the arrogant "im so hot i could have anyone i want and youre lucky im even looking at you" MMC that seems so popular in dark romance. What happened to being pathetic? What happened to being down bad for one woman to the point youd ruin the world for her, you know? You can be a piece of shit and still wet and pathetic, like sir you can really have it all.

I think my issue is the MMC is never required to grow or change and its the FMC who accommodates him and in the end decides she actually likes this/prefers it and so he is never required to compromise or alter his life for her to prove he loves her. Again. Bring back sopping wet men.

And finally, I wish dark romance would center on themes outside of just sexual assault. I am weary of the "hes so hot that sexual assault is forgivable" like girl c'mon. What if we just leaned into the murder, example, you know? That's enough to give ANYONE pause, if I was dating a man and found out he was killing people regardless of the justification I might have some thoughts like "what the fuck" and "hello 911?"

And if he is murdering its always this backflipping justification for why thats okay like i don't know, maybe we just. Call it what it is, ya feel? He's killing people, thats wild. No need to add morality to it, maybe he just likes to blow off steam by killing strangers.

Anyway all this to say no, I haven't read anything I really liked outside of fanfiction. Maybe I'll give your recommendation a shot and see how I feel about it.

[barren-heart]

If you’re Jensen Ackles, Misha Collins, or Jared Padalecki.

STOP.

Read this post.

Dear J2M,

This is an open letter for you three written by a couple of unhappy passionate fans.

We write this to you because we know at least one of you has a secret Stan account and creeps on the destiel hashtag from time to time. Don’t lie. (Ahem. Misha Collins. Looking at you, Sir.)

With the subtle hints and possibility of a revival, us here at BarrenHeart (Bee and Jay) have some thoughts on what we think a reboot/continuation/revival would look like if it was done well.

Note: we don’t speak for the whole fandom(obviously). And we don’t even speak for all of the Cas/destiel fans. This is from our observation of the fandom after 15x18 and the finale, plus our own opinions.

Here are our demands suggestions for the potential revival.

--Castiel--

First things first. Castiel is brought back.

And by that, we mean he is either shown to be rescued from the empty, Jack rescues him from the empty, or by some other means, that man is not left there to suffer for all of eternity.

Castiel is a lead character.

Not a guest star, not “and Misha Collins.” No. Misha Collins gets to be in every d*mn episode. He is an equal lead alongside Dean and Sam. Which leads into the next point.

Castiel gets his own storyline.

It can be connected to Dean in some way, but he needs his own arc, y’all. Don't care what that is, but he IS his own character. So, some form of personal growth or whatever needs to happen. He is a badass and deserves a good storyline. Also…

Give this M-- F-- (mother father) his wings back!

Yes, he died without ever having his wings return to their full power. Like? We know he was nerfed so he wouldn't overpower Sam and Dean. Prove to us that he can be a fully powered badass and still work alongside Sam and Dean. No need to get rid of that.

Human!Cas does not mean pathetic Cas.

There is a divide on whether Castiel should stay an angel. Personally, we like human Cas. However, human Cas was shafted in the series. If you make him human in any way, shape, or form, he’s gonna still have to be a badass. Don’t whimp him!

He can be a good hunter/pretend FBI agent just like Sam and Dean!

So, make him one! Let him do more cases. On his own. With other people. With Sam. With Dean. He can fight without powers, too.

Give him love!

For the love of freaking Jack, let that man know he is loved by people. Not even mentioning anything romantic, he still needs platonic love y’all. Let Sam say it, let Jack say it. Let anyone in his family tell him that he is loved. Not once in this series did Cas hear that anyone loved him. So, fix it!

New style, anyone?

Cas needs other clothes! Please now. The black trenchcoat we never saw in-show? Boss. Cas in a black leather jacket? Coolness. Hunter plaid? Do it.

Confession Resolution

Speaking of love, come to some conclusion please about him and Dean. Give a resolution somehow, somewhere. We personally don’t really care how it’s done, but there needs to be something said here. You cannot just drop a confession there and just leave like it never happened. So, talk about it.

Adding this, I swear, if this is bros only, you WILL lose Cas fans. So, think about what you’re doing.

--Sam--

Sam is important!

Now, personally we have a soft spot for Sam. His character arc in Season 1-5 was great. Demon blood, powerful Sam was amazing. So, don’t sideline Sam. Seriously. We are gonna say in an unpopular way (as if this post isn’t already unpopular to some), but Sam got sidelined real hard in the last few seasons of the show. Now, was that what Jared wanted? Don’t know. But, Sam needs his own storyline too that isn’t just revolved around Dean. Figure it out.

Witch!Sam

Speaking of which, let this man be powerful. Sam is best when he has powers. Sorry but also not. He has been given all of Rowena’s (who is arguably the best witch around) spell books and decides to not really do much with it? No. He’s becoming a BAMF witch. Full-out, no word spells and shit. End point.

Sam in Charge

He’s not just a baby brother. He’s a grown man. Give him room to grow. Allow him to be a leader. Let him lead a group of hunters, witches, a whole team of people! He’s strong on his own, too. He's a big boy. Prove it.

He should fall in love.

Like, get married and all that. It’s a part of his arc, so keep it there. No blurry wife, my god! Personally it should be Eileen. She’s a badass. They also have a lot in common! Holy hell. They make a good team. So, keep that suggestion in mind.

Let him have the hero’s journey.

We want a good ending that shows growth for this character! He saw himself as a freak with powers, so…maybe he can use his powers now in a way that in empowering instead? Let him have an ending that doesn't just return to the beginning. Let him have gone through all of this changed for the better.

Don't be creepy.

Still keep the brotherly bond with Dean, but don’t make it weird, y’all. Don’t. Please.

Sam as a dad.

He can have a kid. But, Dean Jr? Eh. You might want to reconsider some other (Bobby) possibilities.

--Dean--

Now, with Dean, I wanna make this clear.

DO NOT K word THIS MAN.

This man here has dealt with unbelievable trauma, suicidal thoughts and even almost died by suicide in the show (okay, it was for another reason, but still!) He dies way too many times in this show. It’s not new anymore. Perhaps, when the show was newer, death might have been a bittersweet ending. But, now. It’s tarnished. It happened too much and the message of “carry on” got tainted to mean “there is only peace when you die.” That’s not okay.

Resolve his issues!

He has so much pain and trauma. Let him seek help. Let your audience know that it’s okay to process these emotions. Let him heal. He deserves it.

Dean’s internal struggles

This is piggybacking a little off of point two, but Dean has a lot of things he needs to figure out. We feel like his journey is more internal. While processing his trauma, he needs to learn that it's okay to be himself. This could include things about himself that he feels ashamed of or scared to admit. Things he may have repressed or suppressed over time. No more hiding who he is or brushing it off or making jokes. Be your true self, Dean. It's time.

Dean’s still important, of course

That said, Dean should still be integral to the overall narrative of the plot. Of course he's gonna go head to head with the Big Bad of the season/limited series, but he really should focus on what's inside first before he can take this monster down.

The Bro bond

No more dependent/unhealthy bond with Sam. Of course they are family and brothers, and will always be close. That's perfectly fine. However, its important to note that Dean was Sam’s mom/Dad most of his whole life. And, well, that never came to a resolution. Please let Dean resolve this issue. Sam is grown and older now, and even though Dean will always feel protective of him as his Big brother, Dean shouldn't feel like his life only revolves around taking care of Sam. There is more to Dean and his life.

Dean is complex

Also, Dean is not only about cars, burgers, and pie. It's like some of the writers forgot this. There are so many things/interests of Dean’s that are really cool and add to the complexity of his character. Keep those things.

He needs to resolve his issue with Jack.

He never said sorry to the kid. Not once after telling Sam that Jack wasn't family. He needs to tell Jack he is loved.

Speaking of which, Dean needs to tell Cas he loves him.

Okay. Who knows if you will make destiel reciprocal at this point.

Do we think Dean would have reciprocated based on context clues and what we have seen in the show? Yes.

Do we think this love is romantic? Yes.

Do we think you'll actually fully make it canon in a reboot/continuation? Eh.

Regardless, Dean loves Cas, so make it known.

Other demands considerations.

‘The found family’ needs to not be forgotten.

All the friends that were made along the way need to be included. What happened with Garth was great, actually. Do more of that. And by that, we mean include Jody and Donna. What are the girls doing now? Wayward sisters anyone? Bring Kevin back. Don't leave him to roam the earth all along like that. Either make him human again like Eileen or send him to rest in Heaven.

Where’s Eileen?

Hello??? Where? Tell us she made it back.

Claire

No idea if you can get Kathryn Newton back, but it would be cool at least for one episode. Please. Kaia? Resolve her storyline.

Also, Charlie.

Wtf happened? That was not resolved. We love Felicia Day. Charlie’s friendship with Dean is amazing. She deserves a few episodes.

Crowley!

Seriously. What happened to Mark was super disappointing. You gotta bring him back. His death wasn't great. Bring him back and give him his damn line already!

Jack!

I'm not fully on the Baby!Jack train, but he does deserve a normal life. He's three years old technically. He had no normal life whatsoever. He deserves that. So, give him that.

More Rowena please!

That's it. She's awesome.

Have a wedding.

No, really. Someone's gotta get married. Our pick: Sam and Eileen. Charlie is also a good contender for having a wedding with her partner, too. So there. Weddings are happy. We want a happy ending.

I will reiterate. Team free will lives. That's it.

Okay. Now, moving on to the next part of this. The elephant in the room. The thing a lot of us actually want from this, but frankly, we aren't sure if you'll do it.

Explicit Destiel.

If you've read this far J2M, then you're probably wondering when this was going to be addressed. So, here are the stipulations on destiel.

Go big or go home.

Yep. We said it. Make it explicit, full out, no ambiguity.

Honestly, you might be thinking what you could do to make it explicitly canon? Well, since there were tons of people who still think Cas’ love confession was just a platonic exchange between two bros (like wtf? How?), you're gonna have to spell it out for people.

But, some things that we may perceive as romantic, some people may not.

--Like, holding hands could be considered platonic between two men to some people.

--Cheek kissing could also be considered platonic to some people.

Not to say we need Jensen and Misha doing full on *** scenes to prove anything, but something more than a hand hold. Okay? Okay.

What we’re saying is basically, you're gonna have to kiss. On the lips. Yep.

So...I guess you'll have to figure out how you want to do that.

On when to make it canon:

You can decide if it makes sense to make it canon towards the beginning or towards the end. Honestly, there could be an argument for either. If it's made canon earlier, you could prove there can be a relationship alongside the main storyline. If you wait until the end, you'll leave fans wondering if you'll actually do it. But, the kiss being the major event of the finale could be worth it. Whichever you do, remember there are upsides and downsides to both.

Other other considerations:

Just realize who your fanbase is now. We’ve grown and changed. Like Becky, your fans have gone through a huge change in what they want from the show. Is the fandom all on the same page? Nope. Will they ever be? No.

You will not please everyone. That's a given. But, a lot of fans want to see the show wrap up in a better way than what we got. Destiel fans aside, the finale was not great overall. There are plenty of negative finale reviews that have nothing to do with destiel.

On top of that, society is changing. Slowly. The attitudes in regards to lgbtq media is quite different than before. You have the chance to make history. Really. If you make this canon, that will be a part of your legacy. You'll hit the news. I mean, 15x18 wasn't even the finale and it trended #1 that day.

We suggest that if you do decide to make it canon, it’s meaningful and you take the time to do it right.

So, consider your fans. Consider the part of the fandom that trended your show over the election. Consider the fans that trended a fictional wedding on Valentine's Day. Consider Misha/Cas fans who felt slighted. Consider your LGBTQA + fans. Just, think about what the reboot could achieve. What it could mean to a lot of people.

As always, we just want happiness and peace when we are done.

Thanks for reading Misha J2M.

Sincerely,

Bee 🐝 and Jay 🐦

[lethargicsunlight]

'Demon' Chapter 4 : Hosu City Bakugou x Fem!Reader (book 1)

WhEw BOi

First of all, thank you for reading!

I do believe this is the longest chapter yet!

I'm ngl here, this chapter feels kind of choppy to me. If I do a rewrite or go back and do a major edit, I want to learn from this chapter. Let me know if you guys have any opinions on this--I don't want things to be too slow, but I feel like the scenes in this chapter run too fast together. Like a really long-winded run-on sentence.

You can also support my constant need for validation by visiting this fic on my Ao3 account! (Which is here)

Either way, I hope you guys enjoy. (I promise Blasty Bakugou will show up in person soon! <3)

WARNINGS: Feelings of anxiety and panic, mentions of suppressed memories due to trauma, SFW, S

👹🖤⛓🔪💣

In your room, you were sketching the image of the chemical spill escape plan unto some stolen notebook paper.

The plans were found on the back of a janitor's closet door. You came out with a microfiber cloth, to make it look less suspicious--though you were honestly banking on your new reputation with Head Honcho to ensure his lack of interest.

Informing him of Sting's betrayal had both riled him, and impressed him. He had lost an important agent and access to the League of Villains; but considering your success in infiltrating their base and eavesdropping on them, there were other avenues he could take to get what he wanted.

"You're so young.." Head Honcho's voice droned, long and large arm reaching out to graze the top of your hood. "I look forward to seeing your progress Demon. See to your arm, I don't want that injury to affect the results of your mission."

A feeling of violation reaches up and grabs your throat. You choke on it silently, your skin crawling at the closeness of his touch. There's an awful wheezing sound that comes from his lungs, like a machine dying in his chest.

"Yes sir." You bow low, staying until his had recedes.

"Actually.." His silhouette hunches, twisting unnaturally. The screens behind him left only an outline for you to see--and you dared not turn on the low-light enhancers in your mask. It was better to not know. "I'll call off your entourage for this mission. I want to see you do this alone."

You hesitate, digesting the change of plans. The anxiety you felt as your plans go up in smoke is palpable. You can taste the dread like blood on your tongue. "As you wish."

"Ever obedient, my favorite little weapon.."

You hear a crack and it brings you back to the present. You quickly release the pen--you couldn't afford to break it.

If there was one good thing about your presentations with Head Honcho, it was how his sickening presence steeled your resolve. There were times, you loathed to admit, that you enjoyed yourself--making stronger opponents crumble, and the strategic game you played with the other agents as they climb the ladder with you, against you. But there was no mistaking that Head Honcho was a source of evil; stirring chaos and death, cutting short innocent lives on the meagerest of whims. You just wished you knew why.

It had been the longest years of your life to work towards this goal, and despite most of it having been spent somewhere in that base--you felt like you knew so little about him. About what he wanted or why he did anything. He was supposed to be a genius.. You were living a lie and if he knew it, he was just using it.

It would be easier to believe your lies, you realize. To give in, so you wouldn't have to struggle with the anxiety and the reminder of your death swiftly approaching.

But..

"Heroes never give up, you know?" His hand is around yours as you both watch All Might take down villains from outside of a television store. You're clutching your lunch box with your other hand, looking on with big eyes as he reassures you.

"Even when things don't look good, even when things are.. Are bad, like really bad." He keeps on, his hand tightening its grip almost to the point of pain, digits digging into your wrist. You don't say anything.

"That's how I want to be." You drag your eyes from the screen to look at him. It's like he's glowing, his chartreuse hair reflecting sunlight like a beacon of hope. At least in your eyes. "When I become a hero, I'll never give up. Just like him. I'll protect you, and the whole world!"

You're young. But what he says still causes a stirring in your heart, and you're full of admiration for him. You had been, since the day he welcomed you into his perfect life with kindness and unconditional love.

"You're my hero." You whisper, but he doesn't hear it over the cheers of the crowd.

You sigh, allowing the wet droplet to fall from your chin to the floor. Your tear ducts stung from the salt, but you kept them open to dry the tears by force. You were no hero, yet you clung to his beliefs and his wants like you had a future. As if the Hero's Commission would give you a second chance instead of locking you up with Head Honcho's other lackeys. If you survived. Which, you knew you wouldn't.

You really needed to stop living in your head. Maybe then the outside world wouldn't seem so foreign.

Suddenly, there's a voice that dreamily echoes through the wall of your room. Bleeding through the cracks in the concrete, and in from under the door.

It's All Might. He's there to announce the Sports Festival winners, and he's giving a speech. You shouldn't be able to hear it, but it causes you to lurch forward--grabbing the paper and the pen, eagerly stuffing it underneath the mattress then reattaching your mask. You dart out of the door and walk with quick concise steps towards the nearest lounge.

You didn't know why, but you needed to hear it. You needed to see it.

After the one on one matches, you had convinced yourself to leave. The boy, Midoriya, had not won in his last fight--so you thought you'd just, go back to work as usual.

But you wanted to see All Might. And, you wanted to see those other two boys; whose faces had been so determined.  The ones that fought like nothing you'd ever seen. From the door way, you find a pocket of space between the heads and shoulders of dispersing agents where you can see the screen.

There's confetti everywhere as three pedestals rise up in the center of the arena. You can feel your heart throb with unattended affection as the familiar faces become visible. You're proud of them, even though it doesn't make sense to you. You're drawn to the contrasting colors of Todoroki's hair, and he looks as calm and composed as he had the rest of the games. In first place, you see...

Wait, are those... is he chained down? You squint through your mask, even though it won't help you see better. The winner of the festival, Bakugou as you remember--was clearly chained and shackled to a pillar.

He's screaming into All Might's face and you strain to make out the words, but there's no audio being picked up. Probably on purpose.

What would cause him to be so angry? Especially after doing so well?

Something in your gut tells you it was related to his one on one fight with the runner up, Todoroki: son of Endeavor.

...Interesting.

-----

"Please.. Please, I'll do anything--I'll give you everything I've developed, just.."

"Sorry. That's not how this works."

You stand, blades in each hand, confronting a man that didn't look a day over thirty. You could see the picture of his wife and daughter on the fridge behind him. She's wearing the cutest little yellow rainboots.

The room you were in felt uncharacteristically mundane compared to the situation. If you weren't here, time would have moved forward. He would still be working at his desk near the loft's window. You felt ugly, like the monster you were, here to destroy his timeline. His life.

Even if you weren't literally.

"...Fine. Fine," he lifts his hands in full surrender. Not that he'd been holding a weapon before then. There was a security call-in button--but he'd carelessly left it at his desk when he went for another cup of coffee. "Do whatever you have to, just.. just leave them alone."

With the raspy depth of his voice, you didn't have to guess who he was talking about.

"Mm."

His face blanches at the uncertainty of your response. You inwardly cringed, but you had to play this part to perfection.

While Head Honcho had deliberately called off the entourage that was supposed to follow you on this mission--you had no doubt it was a double-edged motive. You could practically feel someone beyond your peripheral, tailing you and watching you complete this mission. It was a test of loyalty; it had to be.

"Lay down your phone and kick it to me." You demand, causing his shoulders to jump. He chokes on a sob before taking the device from his pocket, inserting the code, and laying it on the ground to be kicked in your direction.

You kneel, taking your blade and shoving it through the screen. It shatters, sending bits and pieces sprawling across the tile. Keeping your face turned toward him, your eyes dart to the side to pick through the damage and grab the separated memory and functioning components of the device.

Looking back at him, you can see the despair in his features. No doubt, there were probably thousands of pictures of his life on that memory card. A whole world beyond yours. Birthdays, weddings..

"What now...?" He asks over a lump in his throat. There's a bit of spark left--like he was holding onto the hope he might just survive if he does what you ask.

"Stand still."

He inhales, tightening up his shoulders and becoming rigid in place. Thank goodness, otherwise this would have been much more difficult.

You had moved him into an area of the kitchen where it was blocked off from the windows; but your anxiety had your eyes darting around the environment anyway. Checking the air vent, even though it was far too small for a person. Listening for movement in the rest of the loft. Stilling your body so you could sense the possible vibration of another agent, should they have an enhanced stealth quirk...

But there's nothing you can sense.

----

The plans depicting the layout of Head Honcho's base was attached to the hilt of the blade you had used to incapacitate Fukui Mitsuo in his loft, yet you barely remembered doing it. You were confident your method had been perfect. The left-in blade kept the wound from bleeding out too quickly before the Hero Agency ally would arrive, and he'd barely have a scar to remember it by when he recovered.

It was his pain-filled screams that, perhaps, triggered your mind to suppress the memories as it happened. Stored somewhere far away in your mind, not unlike the years you had spent in the tanks below the base training to become Demon. They were all blotched out; hard to recall even if you meditated on it.

Not that you were in the mood to try it.

Head Honcho had contacted you while en route back to the base. There was a 'disturbance' in Hosu he wanted you to 'check out'. Those were unusual words coming from him, but it raised your spirits--for now, it seemed like you had passed the test.

Though, while you took a minute to rest beneath a bullet train underpass on the outskirts of Musutafu; you heard the distinctive jingle of the News as it was cast on a large advertisement monitor. Before the couple of announcers could even begin their lines, you felt your stomach drop.

In the greenscreen backdrop, there's distinctive imagery--and in the headline:

'Hero Killer Stain, Possible Suspect in Hero Attack on Ingenium in Hosu City.'

You listen to the whole story before getting up to leave. It had happened the day of the Sports Festival, and Ingenium was now in the hospital with injuries he would not completely recover from. It was clear at this point that Head Honcho had been referring to this event, though why he wanted you there was still beyond your comprehension.

There seemed to be some form of interaction between him, the League of Villains, and Stain, that you were simply not privy to.

You suppress a jolt as a vibration erupts from one of your pockets. You pull out the communication device, and written on the screen is a series of digits. Location coordinates. Next to that: stay hidden.

As if he had to tell you that.

---

Another night, another city.

You had never been to Hosu before.

Though, as you traversed the crowded back streets and darker alleys--it looked just like any other city. Between the concrete and brick and windows and advertisements, you could scarcely make out where old construction met new. There was a timelessness to the blocky architecture. Boring, but it was something to witness, to appreciate about a new location. You would probably never see it in the daylight.

Yet as your mind drifted to the moment you knew your life would end, it wasn't the cities that you regretted having not known. More the ocean; or rice fields or lake houses and prairies.

When you begin to close in on the location's coordinates, you think better of going to the spot directly. Instead you parkour your way up along windows and downspouts in order to reach the flattened roof tops--though you stop short, eyes peering in through a pig spout in a brick fascia.

There are figures in the distance.

Two figures. You can't make out any major details, but you can distinctly remember the posture and height of the two you had spied on previously during your visit to the League of Villains bar. And they're facing this direction.

Not good.

You descend quickly back down to the street--if they weren't here, that meant something else was about to be. It sends a streak of panic through your chest; it could be anything. Maybe a bomb.

Maybe you had failed the test, and this was Head Honcho's way of getting rid of you--

As though on cue, there's a loud pop and the sound of squealing metal in the distance. Screams erupt from the street you stayed parallel to as you made your way around, heading in the direction of Shigaraki and his henchman in a full out run. What had been a quiet night suddenly turned thunderous, as the ward descended into chaos.

Making it back up to a roof top, you got a better look at the scene; and it was terrifying.

Nomus. Plural. Attacking everything that moved--appearing in all shapes, sizes, and colors. It causes you to take an involuntary step back... A woman's shrill cry sent ice through your body.

It wasn't the shear terror of seeing the monstrosities that caused you to become frozen in place. It was your own mind--reminding you--that you couldn't do anything about it. You couldn't help. You couldn't. Your mission would be in jeopardy.

You clench your teeth and start moving again. Damn them.. damn them!

"RRRRRAAAGH!"  An unholy screech has you skidding to a halt on the gravel of he roof, sending your butt to the ground. From over the edge, a Nomu hosting reptilian wings spirals up into the air and spots you, lifeless eyes focusing a mere moment before it plunges in your direction.

"Fuck,"  You roll, barely managing to get yourself back up again before a wing is jabbed into the concrete and leaving it damaged in the place your calves had just been.

You leap backwards, pulling out a blade to swipe as the next wing comes at you--but the blade bounces off. "Wha--!" The second wing comes back faster than you can retaliate, knocking directly into your chest and throwing you from the roof top.

There's a well placed awning that breaks your fall. It crushes and flattens beneath you, following you to the asphalt--but it slowed your descent enough that you stayed conscious. You gasp, but the air had been knocked from your lungs so forcefully, they felt unable to extend. The ribbing of the awning tears through the fabric and begins to jab at your back, causing you to move despite the lack of breath.

"GrrRAAGHH!"

Without even daring to look up, you twist back unto the ground and roll close to the building and use a second awning to shield you from the monster's vision. You wait, resisting the need to wheeze--

It's heavy wing beats are loud at first and send your heart into a panic.. but after a few seconds, the sound subsides. It seemed to be going elsewhere.

You sputter into a cough, now wheezing and gasping to regain your breath. You noted the smell of smoke in the air, and looking at the sky, you could see the faint glow of a fire nearby. The distant shouting of someone finally taking action--heroes no doubt--gives you a little bit of hope.

You swallow, rising from the ground with your hand braced against the wall..

What now?

Going after the League of Villains, after that? Not a chance. You would die. You were horribly outmatched, no matter how much they pissed you off. You hadn't forgotten the fight between All Might and the Nomu during the 'USJ Incident', its just that you were naïve enough to think these new ones wouldn't be that strong or resistant. Stupid.

Seeing as how the rooftops are off limits, you begin to tread on foot in the villains' direction again anyway. It was probably the safest place to be, and the only one where you might get useful information to win over Head Honcho again.

Carefully slinking back into shadows, you begin to make haste despite the throbbing in your left side. You could move through the pain; this was nothing. Annoying, but you would take bruised bones and jarred joints over cuts and poison any day.

Above you, there's a flash of.. green?

You stop, watching as a figure zig-zagged through the upper part of the alley; followed by a trail of blue-tinted green lightning. They stop at the corner of an apartment roof, and through the clothes lines you can just see their features..

Midoriya? What was the boy from U.A. doing here?!

[wearetakingthehobbitstogallifrey]

Kdrama recs Part 1

Hullo and welcome to the kdrama life @camsthisky​! The following list is not in any particular order, other than the fact that I start with a more rom/com vibe and head toward more romantic/action or action. All the following kdramas are set in the modern day, and part 2 of my recs for you will be either darker kdramas set in present day or historical dramas.

Let the list begin!

1. Strong Woman Do Bong Soon: 

Do Bong Soon is a v smol woman who has super strength and who wants 1. To create her own video game 2. Get her police officer crush to return her affections. Which like, police officer is kinda cute but he ain’t that special. Bong Soon winds up becoming a bodyguard to Ahn Min Hyuk, the extremely rich, kinda spoiled, ridiculously extra CEO of a gaming company who does not like the police for secret reasons, and sadly does not have a good relationship with his family. (He a lonely boy underneath everything.) Min Hyuk finds out about Bong Soon’s powers, is in TOTAL awe of her, offers to train her in fighting, and literally falls head over heels for her.

The caveat with this show is there is a subplot or two that annoy me, BUT I just use the 10 second skip button and it is totally worth it because the romance is super cute—SUPER CUTE (also I have a list of favorite actors and Park Hyung Sik is def on it—one minute he is an adorkable, blushing bby the next he can be intense and sad)

He cute

2. Her Private Life: 

Hello fake-dating!! Ryan Gold (an adoptee who didn’t live in Korea for a while) is a former artist who stopped painting because he couldn’t deal with his Stendhol (?) syndrome (among other traumas). Deok Mi is the classy art curator of a famous museum who definitely does not have any secrets she wants to keep from the world—well, other than the fact that she is the number one fangirl of kpop idol, Cha Shi-an (who also appreciates art) and has a major crush on him. Ryan becomes director of the art museum and there is a whole thing with getting Shi-an involved in an art show.

Following this and a series of unfortunate events a false rumor starts that Deok Mi and and Shi-an ARE dating. It’s a little complicated to summarize, but basically what you need to know is that Ryan and Deok Mi become a fake couple so there won’t be a scandal for Shi-an or violence done to Deok Mi by rabid fangirls. I enjoy the fake-dating trope a lot, and how it becomes real for both of them! The leads are played by Kim Jae Wook and Park Min Young, who both have incredible range. Lots of soft moments in this one! Good kisses, a scene where the faves bake together, and also Ryan wears a lot of deep v-neck shirts and jackets which is an attack on me personally.

The show also contains a bit of angst, which I LOVE. Hand-holding becomes an important theme 😊

RYAN NO

3. Crash Landing on You: Rich South Korean heiress/fashion designer Se-ri accidentally winds up in a North Korean village, and really REALLY wants to go home. Mostly because there are no scented candles or spa-like bathtubs in the vicinity, but also because she could easily disappear into a NK jail and never return. A North Korean captain named Ri Jeong Hyeok finds her and decides not to turn her because, one, he’s a good guy who doesn’t want to turn an innocent person over to what might be her death, and two, turning her over might get his four underlings in trouble for reasons. Said underlings are his family, basically, and they are a deLIGHT. One is an argumentative proud sort who likes to drink and to feel important and who tries to provoke (and gets provoked by) Se-ri at every opportunity, one is a lover of banned South Korean dramas, one is a 17 year old bby who misses his mom, and one is the silent but most loyal follower of the captain. 

Besides all these people, there are two other characters (including a surprisingly wise conman) who become faves and major players in the plot.

There is a great mix of humor, romance, found family, and angst, and I love it very much. A few things don’t go the way I want them to near the end, but a bit of imagination and fanfic can fix anything 

ALSO I FORGOT THE CAPTAIN GETS SUPER SULKY FROM TIME TO TIME AND IT IS HILARIOUS

Show of hands, who thinks they will meet again

4. Are You Human Too: A FAVORITE SHOW OF ALL! TIME!

What do you do when your husband dies and your evil mega-rich father-in-law takes your son away from you and keeps you from seeing him ever? Well, if you are scientist with more genius than positive coping methods, you build yourself a robot son who looks exactly like your real son. Great solution, am I right?

Nam Shin III is the name of my favorite robot son, played by the inestimable Seo Kang Joon. He is the purest bby you will ever meet, being designed so that he never lies and so that he will immediately go to hug anyone who cries. He seems quite a contrast to the bitter human Nam Shin, who hates his gilded prison life, hates his Grandpa, and tries to sneak away from his right hand man, Secretary Ji Young Hoon, his only friend in the world. The girl in the show is Kang So Bong, an ex-UFC fighter who was so badly injured she had to quit. She is at first a bit jaded and mercenary because of her past, but she has a golden heart that just needs to be reminded of its existence.

Not going into details to avoid spoilers, but everything upends when the robot Nam Shin has to take the place of the human Nam Shin. The show is a soft, funny, angsty exploration of what it means to be human, with some good found family throughout. The character development is phenomenal, and the connection between So Bong and Nam Shin III is *chef’s kiss*. I just want to give a shout out to Seo Kang Joon who plays a duel role like you wouldn’t believe, to SKJ’s smile, to the soundtrack, and to the character of Young Hoon, a loyal, steady, and self-sacrificing secretary that we do not deserve  (gosh tho he looks good in blue!)

Look at my robot son getting a long-looked for affirmation! (his lil smile!!!

5. W: Two Worlds: 

This show unique because it  meta as HELL! Oh Yeon Joo is a junior doctor and the daughter of a webtoon artist whose big hit, W, is coming to a close. Much to her surprise, she gets pulled into the world of the comic where she encounters and saves the main character, Kang Chul, a former Olympic shooting champion who was blamed for the murder of his entire family, and whose sole desire is to find the real killer. It’s a good romance between them, and I also love Kang Chul’s relationship with his hyung, which, tho it is not always a main focus, is present and wonderful. Kang Chul himself is both intelligent and adorably bratty, charismatic and angsty, soft and fierce, and he is one of my favorite kdrama characters for sure.

As for the meta, the show does a fantastic job exploring the rules of the comic world, of how one can enter and leave, the importance and power of main characters and supporting characters, and the purpose of an author. There is always another twist coming, and it is just so much fun!

UM SIR PLS POINT THAT ELSEWHERE

6. Healer: 

I watched half this show and never realized that the female lead is played by Park Min Young, same actress as in Her Private Life. Someone had to tell me lol! She’s just so good at playing different people. In this show, she is Chae Young Shin, a reporter for a celebrity tabloid who has big dreams of becoming a famous reporter who investigates stories that actually mean something. She is a bit quirky, very cute, very brave, and probably one of my favorite female leads. She lives with her dad above his coffee/teashop bakery and is friends with all the ex-cons he has defended while doing his other job of lawyering.

Anyway this show is more of a romantic/action drama. To get an idea of the titular Healer, picture what you would get if you took some of Batman and Nightwing’s aesthetics (wearing black, hanging out on rooftops, punching people, flipping around, etc) and put them into a night courier who likes to watch National Geographic and dream about one day going off to an island where he can live all by himself for the rest of his days because oh yeah he is a loner whose only friend is an older woman who sets up his jobs and whom he has never actually met.

There is also an older reporter that Young Shin looks up to, the fun tabloid office where she works, a heck lot of mystery surrounding some tragedy involving a group of reporter best friends/found family back in the 80’s/90’s, and of course both members of the OTP have childhood trauma that has made them who they are today. One of my favorite things that happens in the show is that Healer has to go undercover for a while, Clark Kenting it up in Young Shin’s tabloid office, which overnight becomes a real news agency for reasons.

The action is LOTS of fun, and the romance is really soft and cute, and better still, when there is a misunderstanding or something that gets in their way, they almost immediately talk about it and resolve issues. They TRUST each other and give the benefit of the doubt where many tv couples would break up or get in big fights. I find it (plus the character development) very refreshing.

I couldn’t find a gif of my favorite fight sadly. This will have to do

7. Lawless Lawyer: This has Lee Joon Gi. Watch it.

Just kidding, there are many other reasons to watch the show, but it is true that Lee Joon Gi is one of my favorite actors. The man has phoenix eyes, a jawline that could cut silk, diamonds, you name it, and such a deep well of emotional acting that it literally kills me when his characters rage/weep/love/etc.

Anyway, in this legal thriller/romance/action drama, LJG’s character Bong Sang Pil is a beautiful, very extra ex-gangster/now lawyer who opens his own office, ready to fight villainy and avenge his mom with the law or with his fists, whichever is more useful at the time. He has a right hand man named Manager Tae and recruits a bunch of thugs as his minions, and they all become a weird sort of family as the show goes on.

Ha Jae Yi is a quiet badass lawyer who has no time for sexist idiots and gets her license suspended for smacking one of said fools. She gets recruited to assist Sang Pil, and they find their goals align as both their mothers were destroyed by the villains.

Speaking of the villains? EXCELLENT acting by them all, like they need to go down obviously, but you can’t help but be in awe of a few of them or even get attached to one or two in a weird way. Props to the show for having one of the best female villains I have ever seen

What an icon

Here you get two gifs of him

Sorry I needed to make it a magical three lol

~~

Tune in next time for historical dramas and modern dramas that are a bit darker!

[nuwisha-laughs-last]

TAM LIN

PART ONE - Chapter Two

Chapter One found here

A retelling of the Folk Ballad “Tam Lin”

Note: Open to suggestions - This is an endeavor to improve myself and have a little fun along the way.  I hope you enjoy!

General content warning for the story as a whole (not always in each chapter): themes of violence, danger, sexual trauma

***

Chapter Two: The Forest

The forest had a name once, but it had been left behind, ground down and forgotten on the Traveler’s Road. Now, everyone referred to the ominous tree line simply as the Auldwood.

All children of the farms and villages on it’s border, Sian included, were taught to keep their distance from the ancient trees for the danger they might harbor beneath their boughs. Unsurprisingly, Sian’s mother didn’t approve of her wandering the forest, hence the theatrics earlier, but Sian was more pragmatic. Where else to get kindling? Where else to find yarrow root, mushrooms, yellow-lion greens or small game? They could barely get by with what animals they had, along with whatever Sian could sell or repair in the smithy.

Truly there were two options: Enter the Auldwood and risk death-by-superstition, or definitely starve just to avoid some spooky trees.

As she padded along the overgrown path, Sian hummed The Twa Corbies to herself but, quickly growing tired of the tune, she switched to her favorite: Sir Orfeo. She had heard this one at the Inn many years ago, visiting with her father on one of their regular trips into the village. She hummed over the first few lines. A bold knight - his love stolen away by the king of The Folk. Green the wood grows early. Long and long he searches for her until, finally, his labors are duly rewarded. Where the hart goes yearly. One morning, he discovers the Fair King’s court riding through the woods. Green the wood grows early. Desperate to save his true lady love he does what only he can. Where the hart goes yearly.

“He played upon his harp sae pure

Green the wood grows early

His voice sae true and his hands sae sure

Where the hart goes yearly

The finest song in a’ the land

Green the wood grows early

Brave Orfeo played, his harp in hand

Where the hart goes yearly

She sang softly to herself and twirled in a circle around Fin who nipped at her heels obligingly, tongue lolling and tail puffed bravely behind him. She didn’t know how the song ended; they had left before a rather drunken Odgar, the Inn’s keeper, could finish the tune. She had asked him later how it ended but he always nervously skirted the subject or seemed to not hear her. She surely hoped Sir Orfeo won back his lady fair, a little happiness wouldn’t go amiss nowadays.

As she neared the forest line she slowed her pace and the tune died on her lips. Stepping quietly, she moved as soundlessly as she could muster. Safety is key in all things she intoned to herself. Though there had been no recent sightings of bandits or wolves, rumors always tended to have some seed of truth, and Sian was determined not to be the first victim should trouble come their way.

Sian paused, eyeing the green boughs high above her head as they rustled and whispered. Though Sian would never admit it, the Auldwood did have an unearthly presence to it. Standing in its shadow, one could almost believe the old Stories. She laid a hand on Fin’s head, borrowing courage from his solid frame, and with a resolute scowl she drew cautiously under its mantle.

As she stepped through, all the ordinary sounds of the morning stilled abruptly as though a door had drawn shut behind her. The silence pressed down on her and for all her sensible reasoning, a small vein of fear marred her otherwise stony resolve. The forest lay unnaturally quiet, as though waiting on edge before a plunge. She moved as quickly as she dared until, finally, she found herself slipping through the vined curtain of her familiar sanctuary and nervousness she hadn’t previously noticed slid from her shoulders with a sigh.

Sian dropped her satchel and set the basket carefully upon the floor before walking to the edge of the well. From it she chose one of it’s ever present blooms, a double rose with dew drops glistening like gems on its soft petals. With only a moment of hesitation, she dropped it into the yawning dark. This done, she turned and set to work unpacking the contents of her basket, laying out a thick woolen blanket, a loaf of dense bread speckled with small nuts and grains, a block of soft goat’s cheese, a pale wooden knife, and a sloshing skin of water.

Finished with her preparations, she drew from her satchel a block of wood and a small carving knife. The wooden block was new, cut just yesterday from a pine bough. The knife was old. It had been her father’s, and his father’s before. There was no telling the true age of the knife, only that it had seen many years and many hands.

She brought out a tiny whetstone and sharpened the blade, humming Sir Orfeo quietly as she worked, gripping the knife lovingly by the handle of dark wood shining with a deep honey-red grain. She smiled distractedly, the skin of her scarred face tugging gently with the movement, as the feel of the handle drew memories of many long hours spent with her father carving blocks of pine by the light of the hearth. This was not work, this was not essential, this was simply time spent as their truest selves and though she rarely missed her father, she missed these moments painfully.

She considered the soft block in her hand. Sometimes if she stared long enough, she could almost see the shape it wanted to take, hidden amidst the grain and the sharp fresh scent.

Her thoughts were interrupted however by a faint scratching that echoed from deep within the well. She stilled so fully that even her breath held in her chest – a statue of a maiden contemplating a wooden wedge. Fin, who had sunk down onto his belly, perked one ear as though to prove he was, in fact, paying attention but otherwise continued to doze - he had attended many years of this monthly ritual after all.

From the corner of her eye, Sian saw the vines rustle and shift, then they gave one violent shake and a shadow gracefully alit on the edge of the well, crouched over with hands between feet, considering her for a short moment before stretching up to its full height to stand on its toes.

In all fairness it was quite the menacing performance - right before a stone broke loose and the silhouette vanished abruptly with a most un-graceful yelp, startling Fin who gave a tiny, confused howl.

Sian’s anxiousness evaporated immediately as she let out all her pent-up air in one breathy laugh and scrambled over to the stone rim.

“Tam?” she inquired of the well and her voice echoed hollowly against the inner walls. She couldn’t see anything as she peered down so instead she reached an arm in, wiggling her fingers and giggling at the steady stream of unfamiliar but unmistakable cursing ricocheting sharply against the walls of the shaft.

“Every time we meet I learn new things from you Tam; today it seems I am a student of terrible balance and a foul tongue!” She heard the echoes of a comment come bounding eagerly up the walls but the words had lost their meaning by the time they reached her ears, the tone however was distinctly sardonic. Moments later she felt a hand grasp hers firmly and she heaved her top half back over the well’s wall, dragging her prize over with her onto the leafy floor.

As she rolled to a sitting position, the figure before her did the same. Even from the ground he sat proud and tall. Taller than tall, just as she remembered him. He moved with a long limbed grace that seemed impossible for his size. With a grimace he shook his head, brushing at thick hair that gleamed softly - the color of fired iron newly poured to the mold. It curled gently and hung long to the bottoms of his ears, laying brightly in stark contrast against his dark skin and poking out in all directions; ever tangled with leaves and dry twigs. His mouth, currently pursed with annoyance, was made for laughing and his golden eyes brimmed with it even now. His long nose wrinkled with irritation as he smacked dirt from his tunic.

“Absolute. Hell,” he growled. He gave a few final exasperated sweeps of his clothing before settling onto the blanket, daintily crossing his legs so both bare feet rested on either knee. He grinned roguishly and reached into a small pouch at his belt. With an excessive flourish he extended his hand and revealed the rose Sian had dropped in.

“I have come as bidden to my lady fair!”, he half-sang in a grandiose tenor. Sian didn’t know one could swagger while sitting down but bafflingly he had done so.

“You are disgustingly morning-oriented,” Sian accused as she set to work serving them each a thick slice of bread topped with a wedge of cheese, after which she cut a smaller square and tossed it to Fin who accepted it as an appropriate tax for her earlier failure to present snacks.

Tam flourished an extravagant seated bow before diving into his pouch from which he produced two cups: a sturdy ceramic mug for her and a delicate porcelain teacup for himself. An odd teacup it was too, more cylindrical in shape and with no handle. It shone a pale, luminescent green with soft ripples on its surface like pond water set still.

Her mug was far less delicate but no less beautiful for its simplicity. The rim flowered upward and the clay sat cold though it seemed to glow with a dim red heat like a burning coal. “Red for Rua'' he had said when she noted the color. “Rua” was what he called her. He refused to allow her to tell him her real name (honestly, that’s just rude), and likewise she was sure “Tam Lin” was not his. When asked, he refused to discuss the matter and stubbornly could not be persuaded otherwise.

She poured for them both from the water skin and sat back comfortably as she sank her teeth into the fresh softness of the bread.

“So what have you brought me today, Tam?”, she said through her mouthful. Tam brightened, smiling gleefully. More daintily than seemed possible for his large hands, he opened a second pouch at his belt, gently extracting something small and delicate. He cupped his fingers over it tenderly and held it out before revealing the gift with an exaggerated flourish.

“Behold! From the far reaches of The Wilds! From the Crystal Gardens I bring you...a growstone flower!” And surely there, upside down in his palm, rested the head of a gracefully petaled flower glittering with opalescent facets. A gentle, curving stem reached upward from the head, adorned with small velvet leaves staggered on either side until they dwindled away at the end of the elegantly curled shoot.

Awed, Sian hesitantly reached out to touch it. She found the petals to be hard and heavy, but the stalk to be soft as a cat’s ears. With a concealed wince she noticed the familiar scar on Tam’s right palm, just visible beneath the flower. She felt a pang of regret that it had never healed properly. Pushing the rising sentiment back down into her belly, Sian looked more closely at the flower,

“How can it possibly stand up?” she asked as she accepted the gift and tried to hold it the right way up, supporting it’s top-heavy bloom like a newborn. Tam shook his head with a chastising smile,

“Well, that’s just silly, it grows this way,” and he turned it back over in her hand, petals down, after which he produced a clear glass cylinder; almost invisible but for the circle of his fingers. He placed it on the blanket and slid the flower inside so the petals could be seen through the glass and the stem could rest comfortably against the rim.

Sian considered her gift with reverence, her mind working at the construction of it. Perhaps the flower used to be a broach, fallen from a merchant’s wagon? She couldn’t quite see how he had attached the curling shoot and with one fingertip she gently stroked the end of the soft stem before thanking Tam over and over until he turned a muddy red across the cheeks and returned to his breakfast.

His eyes were clearer today, she noticed. Some days he was the boisterous young man she had come to know, others that man was a facade laid over old, tired eyes.

To his credit, Tam waited as calmly as he could for her to finish her meal but she could tell he was growing fidgety with impatience so she set down her bread, half-eaten, and took up her carving block and knife.

“Alright, I’ve been working on your story. I think I’ve got it all now, unless you’ve left out any details. Are you ready?”

He nodded, much like a child, and his eyes gleamed with anticipation. Mortals tell much better stories than we do, he always said. Apparently the ability to lie helped quite a bit.

Sian took a moment to gather her thoughts, letting the dust of them settle in her mind before she took a breath and began to speak, idly starting to etch away at the pine block in her hands.

___________________________________________________________

Once, long and long again, there lived a boy named Tam Lin. This was no ordinary boy for he was one of the Folk, but never did they ken him for he had no shadow. Alone and bleak with melancholy he roamed their fields of jade grass, their gardens of glittering crystal, and their forests of gold and silver trees, until at last he came to the Cailleach; the towering Mountains where dwelled the Sisters.

It was here Tam protested “Me? Melancholy?! Look at me, do I look like I’ve ever been melancholy?!”, but Sian shushed him, “It improves the story, it makes you sound sympathetic. No one will be invested if you frolicked unbothered to death’s door.” Tam considered for a moment, then shrugged. He was right but then, so was she. Instead he switched tactics, “Folk is so country bumpkin. I’ve told you we’re ‘Sídhe’”. Sian rolled her eyes. “Stop making up words or I won’t finish the story,” she threatened. Tam pinched his fingers over his lips sarcastically but did, in fact, remain silent. Sian continued:

In all his travels, Tam Lin had heard tell of the Three Sisters for they were the most feared among the Folk. Their power held no rival and their shadows were long and dark. He hid from them in the barrow hills surrounding their keep and while exploring the yawning dark he discovered a chest banded in iron. No sooner than he spied the box did it speak in a small voice,

“Release me from this prison, good sire/And surely you’ll gain your heart’s desire!”

Tam snorted once but otherwise kept quiet. With a glower, Sian continued,

Tam Lin was wary of the chest at first, as one should be of all beings of The Wilds, speaking or no, but as the days turned to weeks and the weeks to years he slowly began to realize with a growing dismay that there were few ways into the Sisters’ hold and none were to his liking. He returned to the chest and, begrudgingly, he listened:

Unfasten yae these locks o’ thrae

Then spaek aloud the Naem o’ mae

The first is graener nor th’grass,

The next maer fragile nor th’glass,

The last is shaerper nor iron’s bicht,

Then spaek my Naem oen the fu’est nicht.

Tam Lin pondered the riddle for three days until, on the fourth night when the moon was shy upon the land, he took up each lock in turn and spoke:

“Envy is graener nor th’grass,

And he Was envious of the Folk and their long shadows

Pride maer fragile nor th’glass,

And he Was too prideful to be the lesser of them

Hunger is sharper nor iron’s bicht,

And he Was hungry for the power they wielded

I Naem thae, Fomóire, oen this fu’ nicht”

And he cried out a Name so vile and so old that it stuck in his throat and to his teeth and indeed he bled from the mouth that spoke it and the ears that heard it.

And as he Named each, the locks sprang open until the chest was held closed by merely a latch. With a mighty howling, the lid burst open, breaking the iron catch and from it swelled a creature of chaos and blight and death. Like pyre smoke it hung, noxious and billowing, writhing triumphantly in the air above his bright head. The roiling haze expanded as though to stretch and began to evaporate through the ceiling of the barrow, but brave Tam Lin called out,

“Halt! We struck a bargain, you and I/My heart’s desire and you free to fly.” The black cloud considered him for a moment, then a rumbling, jarring sound filled the barrow room and shook Tam Lin down to the roots of his teeth,

“I would think you would desire to live/But for that wish, your life you would give.” Satisfied that he had sufficiently cowed bold Tam Lin the creature once again made to leave. But Tam Lin was oh so clever and he cried,

“Lord, my life do I indeed desire/If my life for freedom you require,

But I Know your Name and so you see/A boon for your Name I require of thee.”

“Who would bother to rhyme when they’re bargaining for their life?” Tam insisted through the side of his pinched lips but Sian raised an eyebrow, not bothering to look up from her carving, and Tam, so chastised, gestured for her to continue.

Tam Lin could feel, now, the anger of the creature as it pressed out, heavy and daunting, and poor Tam Lin feared his life would end here; but the shadow then spoke in its voice so terrible,

“I accept the bargain for what you know/Forget my Name and to the Three you’ll go.”

Thus and quickly Tam Lin was swept up by the boiling black to be carried toward the waiting Mountain.

Together they entered the Hall where awaited the Sisters upon their three golden thrones. There, lucky Tam Lin was dropped and forgotten upon the floor as the boiling black thundered furiously,

“Dare you Three Sisters to thus bind me/We shall war again for who stands free!”

Then before him the coal dark, hovering heavily upon the air, crushed inward, shaping and churning until upon the flagstone there Was a monstrous giant. He had hair of smoke that stood and flickered like an open flame and a single eye of burning cinder that glowed, menacing beneath the dark, closed lid. Immediately the Sister’s set upon him, laying down curses and geasa to keep him from opening his deadly eye.

Through the night and into the morning they fought him bitterly until at last, our cunning Tam Lin saw his chance. Up leapt bold Tam Lin, brave Tam Lin, and with his knife of biting iron he cut the left hand from the First Sister as she did battle with the giant. He snatched the hand from the floor and at once he Knew a small piece of her true Name. He called it with his own and his soul rang with the power of it.

None could stop him or reclaim the prize as still they fought in a terrible, howling dance and, triumphant, Tam Lin fled the Hall and the Mountain with his shadow caught behind.

___________________________________________________________

Sian finished roughing smooth the small trinket in her hands and held it out to Tam, exhausted but the story done. Tam clapped delightedly and accepted the small wooden thing, taking it gingerly as though it were hot to the touch. In his palm lay a tiny padlock, simple and delicate. She had even managed to carve a key looped by it’s open end around the closed lock. She didn’t know what he did with these, more than likely he dropped them or lost them or squirreled them away at the bottom of the well. But here, in the moment of the stories’ telling, he loved them.

Sian didn’t mind playing along. By her judgement Tam seemed harmless, utterly addled but harmless. Sian’s knowledge of the Folk consisted mostly of the older generation’s deep set superstition. Oh, people disappeared from time to time and the elder residents of the village always claimed the proof was in the porridge. Well, Sian had seen neither proof nor porridge.

Merchant trains were always coming and going and regularly they took some with them and left others behind. And here, now, all she had thus far was a wild young man, armed with wild stories, and living, wildly, at the bottom of a dry well. Despite her uneasiness with these unknowns, she had found herself entirely charmed by his easy smiles and boundless energy. In a way, he reminded her of Alis.

Noticing just now that Tam had finished his first slice of bread and cheese, she quickly devoured hers and set to serving them both a second. She dusted her fingers and wiped the blade clean of shavings on a sleeve of her dress. Then, with a false absency, she reached toward the bread, iron knife in hand. She had almost touched it when Tam made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat and wrinkled his nose,

“Not with that,” he scowled, eying the iron blade. Sian froze, then drew her hand back with a smile and a wink.

“I almost had you that time” she grinned. Tam laughed “Oh hardly, you’re a thousand years too young to catch me.” Sian shrugged and carefully slid the knife into its small leather sheath, setting it behind her on the blanket.

“Why would you use that to cut food anyway, isn’t that knife precious to you?” Tam wondered once the iron had been stowed.

“It is,” she allowed, now picking up the wooden utensil and using it to cut Tam another slice, “but it is a gift from my father after all.”

Tam scrunched his brow in confusion. To answer, she picked up the sheathed knife and turned it over so it’s other side could be seen, slipping it part way from it’s holding. There, finely etched into the handle travelled a thin, straight line which ran down the grip and flowed seamlessly onto the blade, broken only by a pattern of marks cutting horizontally across in short, angled strokes. On the bright blade the engraving had been painted black, on the dark handle it had been delicately inlaid with pale stone.

“I can’t read it,” Sian said after a moment, “the language is old world.” She furrowed her brows and gently slid a finger over the gleaming inlay, “This one might mean ‘brèagha’ or maybe ‘bhòidheach’, but the tinsmith wasn’t sure. My father told me it says ‘Beauty in a thing used well’...he practically lived by those words.”

Tam regarded the etching reverently for a long moment, leaning closer to the offensive metal than she would have expected. Then, without taking his gaze from it he said softly, so softly she almost didn’t hear,

“Thank you for my story, it is a kingly gift.” The sincerity of it surprised her for a moment until she noticed the sudden gleam in his eye,

“Perhaps the next will be more...swift!” He cackled as Sian roughly teased his hair with her free hand.

“Oh what a balladier you are!” She said, her tone heavy with sarcasm

“I think so,” he grinned, “Came from the heart - blood, sweat, tears and all that.”

“Well it certainly doesn’t need more tears. Your meter’s miserable enough to make me cry.” Sian held out another slice of bread, “Also, have I caught the Great Tam Lin in a lie? Surely your ‘blood, sweat, and tears’ didn’t really leave you with such a pathetic couplet.” Tam reached for the bread and grinned wickedly,

“I didn’t say what came from the heart now did I?” Sian thought for a moment. He had a point. Oh well. Sian snatched back the slice,

“You know what Your Smugness? You don’t deserve this,” and she took a large, self-satisfied bite as Tam protested the injustice.

They whiled away the better part of mid-morning, trading news and the occasional banter, but Tam Lin was not one to sit still for long and soon he was hugging her goodbye.

Before leaving he asked to borrow her skin of water and she obliged, very likely he needed it more than she. Then, with a jaunty wave, he stepped as casually as a cat into the yawning well, dropping like a stone.

When no crash or cry of pain echoed up to her, Sian shrugged and started to gather her things. He probably wasn’t a lumpy splat on the well floor and she wasn’t fool enough to risk her neck climbing down there to confirm it.

***

Story time!

Thanks for reading!

Chapter Three found here

[g0dspeeed]

Unconditional Positive Regard, 3

Adam begins to process what occurred at Torch during that first meeting. 

=================================================

Processing

Though his body was primarily made up of metal and cyber components, it didn’t mean that Adam was unable to experience pleasure.

One such pleasure that he enjoyed above most was standing below the hot spray of his shower after a long day of merc work. Streams of water ran down his face, chest, stomach, and groin in soothing rivers, the water reddening as it cascaded down his large frame. RealSkin still covered those areas, despite how modified the rest of him became. It was a sort of preference or blessing that Adam have some pleasurable sensation left as Arasaka continued to make annual adjustments to their living investment. Adam allowed his eyes to close, a deep groan ghosting past his lips as he finally relaxed.

The day was eventful. Between catching a bounty that had evaded Adam for weeks, the end results being a half-dozen destroyed food stalls and vehicles in Little China, to tuning up his Wolvers after getting some much-needed upgrades, Adam accomplished most of the things that he set out to do that day. It was tempting to check his HUD for upcoming gigs or missed messages. Tempting, but he resisted. Being in his line of work for so many decades taught Adam to set some firm boundaries between work and play, or in this case, a moment of respite beneath his showerhead.

It was during these quiet moments where he allowed himself to think, to reflect. In this case, to address that which he avoided processing since the morning of his meeting with Torch. Or more specifically, that woman with the golden eyes who openly challenged him upon their first meeting.

The first few hours following his conflict at Torch were some of the strangest for Adam. It was as if he felt unsettled in his own body, like he was wearing some ill-fitting suit. The strangeness came from his mood, that despite having a door being closed in his face, there was an absence of the typical rage that the merc would be feeling had he been dismissed from anyone else. There wasn’t this insatiable need to develop a counter-attack, to make the group’s existence a living hell for denying him. Instead, Adam found himself feeling put-off. Annoyed, but accepting the outcome. The woman provided him choices, accepted his choice, and followed through with what she said. Not much to argue with there. Adam knew it. Still, he questioned his own personhood, and was thankful that no one from Arasaka or any of the other operatives he worked with witnessed how he calmly walked away from the double doors and rode the elevator back to the rooftop for pickup in total silence.

Asking one of Arasaka’s elite hired guns to surrender his weapons and turn off his cyberware was a ridiculous request. Borderline stupid. They, whoever they were, were clearly ignorant of who Adam was to even ask. Adam marveled at their audacity, at the way the woman smiled at him after politely telling him to fuck off. Thankfully, he was able to distract himself from thinking about her face for the rest of the day, at how her golden eyes burned him with their gaze alone.

Distracted until now.

His body twitched.

Adam’s eyes opened at the involuntary sensation, at how he reacted to remembering the fullness of her lips, at the curves of her hips as she stood so near to him in the lobby.

The scent of her perfume.

The smile.

A deep exhale.

He scoffed and turned the water to its coldest setting.

Absolutely not.

He didn’t even know the bitch’s name.

The very next day Adam set out to remedy that problem.

“Again,” he demanded over the com link to one of Arasaka’s Netrunners.

The Runner complied immediately. The pair was reviewing the footage recorded from Adam’s optics, going frame by frame and gathering intel about those he encountered in the lobby that day.

The frame centered first on the man who had greeted him on the roof, a Dr. Thiago Estrada.

“War veteran,” stated the Runner. “Served a tour as a medic for NUSA, 2021 to 2023. Integrated into Trauma Team until 2065. Been with Torch ever since.”

The grunt that Adam offered in response was indicative of his interest. Initial scans at their meeting on the rooftop told him that much already or at the very least that the man was a veteran. The fact that the doctor was with Trauma Team for so long, while interesting, was not Adam’s primary focus in meeting with the Netrunner.

Adding to his already teeming confusion about what occurred at Torch was the fact that the woman, the one who dared to challenge his authority after watching her peer practically get strangled by Adam, wasn’t scanned at all. The thought never crossed his mind while he was there. Not once. In reviewing the optic footage, that issue could be resolved no problem, but the fact that Adam was too distracted to even gather intel on such an important target to his reason being there?

How could he, Adam Smasher, have made such a giant oversight?

Frankly, he was embarrassed. Embarrassed that she had stunned him so much by her words and lack of fear, and it was that humiliation at having to ask someone for help in correcting his mistake that made his drive for answers that much more strained.

Almost teasingly, the Netrunner had forwarded the footage to when she confronted him at the double doors. Even through a screen, Adam could feel the power in her golden stare.

“Who is she?” he growled, eyes remaining on her face.

The seconds it took before he got a reply were infuriating. The response even more so.

“The information is blocked, sir.”

“Run it again.”

“Yes, sir.”

Silence once more. Adam found it difficult to stand still.

“Well?” he snapped.

“I-I’m sorry, sir, but I’m being denied access to any information regarding this person.”

“By who?”

“Um, our own network, sir.”

Confusion furrowed his brow, but Adam didn’t relent.

“Use my clearance code. Now.”

“Yes, sir.”

Despite his hope, the Netrunner confirmed that access was still denied. Even after Adam demanded the Runner run checks on all the women that stood terrified behind his target, their files presented no further indication as to who the hell she was. In his pursuit for more knowledge, Adam was left with even more questions.

Why the hell was Arasaka denying him access on a target that they themselves set up for Adam to meet with?

Who the fuck was she that made her so goddamn important?

To question the corp on their decision would reveal that he had yet to reschedule a new meeting with Torch, if they hadn’t learned about how the first meeting went already. Part of him worried that Torch would report what happened to Arasaka, but Adam had yet to receive any reprimanding call or email from them. Not that he had any evidence other than her calm demeanor and fairness, but for some reason Adam doubted the woman would do that. She did put the next step in his control, after all.

“S-Sir? Do you need anything else?”

The Netrunner’s concerned voice brought Adam back to the present moment.

He ended the call and turned his focus to the white building that stood before him, its glistening emblem still sitting proudly on the top corner of its rooftop.

Time to reschedule, he thought bitterly as he approached the building’s main entrance.

[zombolouge]

i dont usually leave two messages in one day but i realized i had more to say so theres a first for everything

to say that i am baffled that miles could reach such a conclusion is an understatment bc like how can someone so smart...be so dumb...also does phoenix even know miles is gay? (with the suit he wears im sure its obvious but like he doesnt know for sure does he? with the way he acts itd be very easy to assume miles is aro/ace right?) and has miles EVER pursued phoenix? what does he mean “he didnt ever pursue me back” or whatever like sir when have u ever made ur feeings apparant? u repress shit so much why would phoenix try anything im sjsjjsbsjsbshsbj?

-B

haha I welcome as many comments as you need to leave! In all seriousness, it’s both of them being incredibly wrapped up in their own trauma so they can’t see the forest for the trees. Miles thinks he HAS been flirting, because he lets himself do it sometimes, but of course like anything he does it’s ten times more subtle than he realizes. It’s a thunderclap to him and a whisper to everyone else, so he thinks he’s been putting off vibes that would have been obvious to anyone remotely interested in the same sex. He also let himself make some nonsensical assumptions because it feeds into his own self doubt and lack of self worth. He made a self-deprecating echo chamber about Phoenix a long ass time ago and now that he’s presented with something that doesn’t match that narrative, he’s basically PANICKING. In a panicked state, it’s very easy for trauma recovery to regress and your brain immediately leans on thoughts that are disordered and a result of the abuse that was suffered.  There’s a lot of layers there lmao  And Phoenix knows Miles prefers men. He might have some impression that he could be aro/ace, but for the most part Phoenix simply assumes that Miles would not/could not want him, because if he DID, he wouldn’t have left after Phoenix finally found him. He never would have moved to Germany. And maybe, given the right circumstances, Phoenix would have come around and realized the truth of things, but Miles didn’t move back to LA even after he revealed he wasn’t dead, and while he was away Phoenix went through the trauma of the Iris trial, with Miles returning but on a temporary basis, and then not much later than that he lost his badge, which threw *everything* out the window for him emotionally and mentally. All of this has built up to Phoenix having this idea that everything is just seconds away from getting ripped from him, at all times. Trucy has fears of people disappearing, but so does Phoenix (it’s honestly probably part of what bonded him to her so fast. He knew what it was like to have your world disappear without warning or explanation and he couldn’t imagine having to go through it at 8). So he is operating under the assumption that it took him years JUST to earn Miles’ friendship, and that if/when he ever admits the truth of how he feels, it would result in Miles leaving again out of disgust because Phoenix feels like he is broken/unworthy/disposable. For Phoenix it isn’t a problem of thinking he’s not gay, but thinking that has nothing to do with Phoenix himself being desirable.  And because they’re both so fucking traumatized this ends up being a loop they’re stuck in because with confirmation bias, all either of them ever sees is what backs up what they think is the truth. Anything else is just BS. Phoenix has definitely inched closer to breaking out of the cycle in previous chapters, but it’s so deeply ingrained that it would take a hefty force to finally push him forward.  Which is, incidentally, what I’m leading up to with all this back and forth between them. The angst is a fun read, of course, but mostly I did psychology math and estimated this was the number of times you had to smash them together to wear down their resolve enough that a breaking point is inevitable. Even then, I feel like it takes a moment of particularly high-running emotions to get them there, but I don’t want to say too much more since you know, we aren’t on that chapter.  Yet. But...soon. Very, VERY soon. (sorry I kinda popped off there but I have thought about this A LOT lol so I have many thoughts and feelings)

[enberlight]

Hi! I have a couple personal questions for you, if that’s okay. First, what are your pronouns? I just learned that you are agender, and I don’t want to misidentify you when reccing your work. Second, did you pick the name enber for its similarity to the word enby? Or does it mean something else? Feel free to not answer if my questions are too personal!

I don't mind personal questions. :D (as long as they're polite like yours!)

I go by she/they pronouns. I don't mind the feminine set since I'm used to them and present femme (it's fairly inevitable with the way I look and talk even if I dress like a dude most of the time. Basic jeans and Deadpool tshirts for Days.) I don't identify as masc at all though I do like my deeper voice. That part confuses some people (yay! Chaos achieved.)

I like they/them pronouns but I don't insist on em. I use "hir" for myself if I'm feeling too dysphoric but that's kinda rare? It's downright weird feeling when it crops up though o.o Never masc pronouns but I have no problems being called dude or sir. I consider those fairly neutral anyway, and it tickles me when ppl don't automatically assume me as a girl.

Enber is originally a character name I started using at conventions a while back. It's more of a play on Ember (like a coal or small flame) but with an N instead because I've never quite grown out of dorky twists like that. Ember is a bit of a tangental play on part of my legal name and my artist "last name" of Light. They all deal with luminance of some sort :)

It was just glorious happenstance that a year or two after using Enber as my name I found out I was enby (and panrom ace). I grew up without access to LGBT circles or terms so that was. Quite a day. (Weeks really as I asked Every Question, lol) I was in my 30s already and just figured I was weird/damaged/just bicurious and had like internalized homophobia and fear of intimacy from being raised Catholic and had an ingrained uberdose of Prude but. It wasn't. I just don't get sexual attraction At All and it's a Me thing not a Brainwashing one. Which is ridiculously relieving. I've since met dozens of panrom ace folk so the initial "isn't that oddly contradictory" has worn off for me long ago. (Romantic and sexual interests and attractions can be completely separate! That was Such News to my sheltered head and resolved tons of confusion.)

Similarly I had a lot of internalized misogyny to work through that had me wondering if I really was Enby or just recoiling from childhood traumas etc. But it's been years now and I reconciled all that and am still Enby so. There ya go :)

I rambled a bit but uh. No spoons to reel in the ADHD today. XD

[langdxn]

sanctum | pre-outpost!michael x fem!reader

SUMMARY: What happened in the 18 months before Michael arrived at Outpost 3. I’m driven by filling in plotholes and this one intrigued me the most. This is my first fic so constructive criticism is more than welcome!

WARNINGS: More fluff than Build-a-Bear, pregnancy and mentions of children, trauma.

WORD COUNT: 1.8k - it’s pretty short for a first attempt but I was cautious about rambling for too long.

“I’m just going to Outposts 1 and 3 to check on their security, my little dove. I’ll return as soon as I can,” Michael breathed into the shell of her ear, scooping his arms around her waist from behind. Protectively placing her hands atop his statement rings and dipping into her shoulder, she clung to his touch as if it were the first time they met.

“I’ll miss you,” she sighed, tracing gentle, reassuring circles over his rings with her fingertips, “we all will.”

Her eyes darted across the room to the dark wooden crib, elaborately carved by her husband’s delicate hands as they waited in Outpost 2 for the right time to execute the next phase of his father’s repopulation plan. She recalled all the days and nights she passed his office expecting to find him nose-deep in important Cooperative paperwork, but instead her eyes fell upon him hunched over a carving knife and a mahogany branch. Stepping towards his desk and deftly sweeping up the discarded shreds of bark that littered the office floor, she examined the intricate flames he was crafting into the wood, her heart igniting with love to the point of implosion.

Sixteen months had passed since they first met in Outpost 2, nestled in a bunker in Beckley, his cerulean eyes meeting hers across the radiation decontamination chamber. She was the grey assigned to spray down his clothing as he entered the hideout, he was the mysterious Mr Langdon everybody immediately feared without really knowing why - everybody except her. She was assigned to the outpost after years of faithful service to the Satanic Church despite her kind nature, after all, nobody was perfect. She hadn’t remained a grey for long as she fell pregnant immediately after her first romantic meeting with Michael on his office desk, scaling the ranks from a mere servant to the outpost’s first lady due to the unplanned yet nonetheless welcome development in their new underground world. Out of the darkness above ground came the new life between the Antichrist and his angel.

“I promise I’ll come home to you and the boys.” He gently lowered his palms to meet her burgeoning bump, reminding himself of how much her womb had provided for him, one heir and another on the way in a matter of weeks. Not long after the arrival of their firstborn son, Damien, Michael and Y/N celebrated their status as new parents in the only way they knew how — between the sheets. The next morning, as they lay basking in the afterglow of an intense night of pure intimacy and love, Michael placed his hand on her abdomen and felt a new life once again.

If she had met the incarnation of Michael that chaired Cooperative meetings months earlier, she would never have stayed. The dictatorial, power-drunk Antichrist with his show-stopping red leather gloves and ominous black coat mellowed immeasurably at the mere suggestion of a family of his own. After the disastrous upbringing he endured, Michael refused to allow such a future for his own children, insisting on catering to Y/N’s every whim at any time of day or night. She gave him purpose, a reason to fight, a family to defend from the wasteland above ground. That said, if he had met her and her calming demeanour a month earlier, he would never have initiated the Apocalypse in the first place.

“Travel safe, please baby? We’ll be right here waiting,” she clasped her hands over his on her abdomen, willing herself not to shed a tear in front of him. The journey ahead of her husband would be treacherous, relying on a solitary pair of horses to carry him between the two outposts and back home again. He had only made this same voyage once since they first met, she had dreaded this day ever since but had remained strong for Michael and their growing family.

“I don’t want to leave you,” he whispered solemnly, snaking his arms around her waist and turning her to face him. As he planted his hands back on her bump, he dropped gracefully to his velvet-clad knees in front of her to level with his new life.

“Daddy’s going to be right back, little one. Don’t go making an appearance before I get back, you hear me in there?” He leant his forehead against the bump and closed his eyes, focusing on the strong heartbeat booming inside. He turned his head to face the crib where the blissfully sleeping Damien lay behind its bars, silently deciding not to wake him before he left so Y/N didn’t face another three hours to attempt to calm his cries.

“Let’s renew our vows when you come home,” she suggested as he rose to his feet. Michael beamed from ear to ear and nodded in agreement, while his eyes flashed with her thoughts of their wedding in the outpost just before Damien arrived. A dark affair of course, his bride wore black, an endlessly elegant gown cascading into a deep blood red as the taffeta reached the floor. Michael was always dressed for a wedding so he donned his favourite matching velour dress suit, with a single black rose threaded through his lapel. Fellow Outpost 2 residents Jeff Pfister and Mutt Nutter served as best man and maid of honour respectively. Y/N mercifully allowed her maid to attend without the embarrassment of a dress, Mutt’s unusually groomed beard offsetting his velvet suit in a most uncomfortable display for the typically slothful office-dwelling creature.

Silently acknowledging the urgency of his timely departure, Michael placed a deep, haunting kiss on Y/N’s lips as he ran his fingers through her raven black hair for one last time. Without the strength to say a proper goodbye, he closed his eyes and turned on his heels to charge out of their bedroom door. He wanted so desperately to look back, but then he might never leave.

The cold breeze grazing her bump signalled his departure and as she watched his angelic curls and velour coat tails make their way to the exit, she whispered to herself.

“Please don’t go."

———

Michael spent an arduous, mind-numbing fortnight examining the security procedures at Outpost 1 in New York. There was to be no unofficial communication with the ominous blonde Cooperative representative for the duration of his stay. Agents and informants flitted in and out of his makeshift office during the day, while the night would be spent alone in his quarters catching up on sleep or waiting to communicate with his wife after she finished her official duties in his absence. Tonight, a knock on the bedroom door broke the aching silence.

“Mr. Langdon,” a stern voice called from beyond the door. Michael could barely contain his rage at being disturbed when he had important emails to write, particularly one to his wife to let her know he was thinking of her and would be home soon. “A message has arrived for you, sir.”

She’s sent me a carrier pigeon? Michael thought, wracking his brains as to why his wife would require the archaic communication format over a simple email. Had the power gone down at the outpost? Was there something wrong with the baby? Had their son arrived too early? He slammed his laptop shut, rushing to swing open the door and nearly bumped into the grey behind it, holding a small copper tube in his hand.

“Give that here,” he hissed as he grabbed it impatiently from the grey's clutches, his hands shaking as he fumbled to find the end of the scroll inside, yanking it completely out of its casing. As Michael’s eyes laid upon the Cooperative’s signature obnoxious font filling the small sheet, his heart sank.

OUTPOST 2 HAS BEEN OVERRUN. CANNIBALS HAVE RAVAGED THE COMPOUND. MR. JEFF PFISTER AND MR. MUTT NUTTER ARE HEADING FOR THE SANCTUARY. INITIATE SANCTUARY RELOCATION IMMEDIATELY.

No word of his wife and children.

Michael's mind was already halfway to West Virginia before he shoved the grey out of his path and barrelled towards the exit. Throwing on a radiation suit as fast as he could on the way, he unchained his black horses from the Outpost gates and hurriedly connected them to the front of his bleak carriage. Bundling himself into the back, he cracked the driving whip furiously in a blind rage. 

——— A month later ———

The foreboding gates to the Hawthorne School for Exceptional Young Men bowed to the presence of Michael’s carriage through the toxic mist, issuing a welcome to the last remaining sanctum, Outpost 3. Two figures in dark radiation suits paced towards his vehicle wielding archaic weapons, Michael exited the vehicle and aimed his Cooperative identification card in their view. 

“Tend to the animals,” He dismissed in the direction of the figure he assumed to be Ms Mead, pacing towards the familiar school entrance. He would not be needing their assistance anymore.

His initial day of formalities and informing the outpost’s population of the developments outside of the confines of the former academic institution culminated in a meeting with the outpost’s leader, Ms Wilhemina Venable. Ushering the lavender-clad woman into the gloom of his office beside a roaring fire he conjured minutes earlier, Michael swallowed hard as he prepared to inform her of his journey that lead to Outpost 3. The length and trauma of the journey had hardened his resolve, returning to the arrogant facade shown only to the esteemed members of the Cooperative.

“You’re the leader in here. You need to understand what’s at stake, what’s really going on out there.” He slumped into a leather chair beside the ferocious flames, gesturing to the stern female to join him in an adjacent seat.

“On the way here, I came across a woman. A young mother with two children. They were some of the unlucky ones who were far enough from the blast radius to survive the fireball but not the radiation.” Michael raised an arm in demonstration, a chink emerging in his assertive facade as he detailed a vision more painful than he could bear.

“They were covered in tumours, sores, their lungs were burnt from the toxic air.” Molten tears coursed from both eyes, tracking multiple scorching routes down his countenance as he choked on his thoughts. His fists clenched and his throat constricted, memories searing before they reached his tongue, his steely demeanour long since departed.

“After a few moments, I realised that the child she was carrying in her arms was already dead. She was begging for us to murder her other child out of pity. Mercy. She didn’t have the strength to do it herself so she prayed for someone to come along and do it for her.”

“Did you?” Ms Venable queried. 

A single tear rolled down his pale cheek.

“No.”

---- read part ii here ----

[l0ve-pand0ra]

unpopular my hero opinions!!! waaa if u get offended they arent real ppl. and fyi this is one of my all time favorite animes.

1. todoroki isnt less cool now bc hes not the stoic asshole with no friends. the only reason yall think that is bc he gets so little screen time and time to shine bc when he does hes so much better then deku so they constantly dim his character down

2. todoroki would have made a more compelling and interesting and believable main character rather then deku.

3. deku was Never the underdog, he got all mights (the #1 heros) quirk Given to him for FREE. and all might favors him and gives him special treatment. and he gets away with everything. his family is super supportive. hes deadass not the underdog just bc he breaks his bones for a while. especially after season 2, underdog my ass

4. it makes zero sense that todorokis deep rooted issues and trauma got resolved with some words in a couple of episodes. meanwhile it takes bakugou 4 season to even consider changing his mindset on deku. even though bakugous whole issue is something he MADE UP in his head. again, todoroki getting done dirty

5. deku should not have beaten overhaul. when he went out to fight i literally rolled my eyes. sure the fight was impressive with stunning animation and sure he had eri. but ur telling me a freshman beat a villian with a quirk that allows him disassemble and reassemble matter which if you forgot what matter is it everything around you everything including the air.

6. todoroki and Bakugo werent in season 4 for much of it purely because of how popular they are and how much more people prefer them to Deku

7. sir nighteye rlly died without recognizing deku as being worthy of one for all... welp

8. shinsou got set up to the max going up against deku who for whatever reason on that day decided to tap into some dead mfs living inside him.... COME ON

9. this one isn’t unpopular but HOW DID U.A NOT THINK TO USE SHINSOU DURING THE OVERHAUL CASE???? like i understand hes not in the hero course but dude.......

10. my hero has weak villains, the  league is a joke with no clear direction for the whole anime, they start showing promise at the end of the overhaul arc. n i adore the league n its members but in the anime the jus seem lost with no clear direction ... and all for one aint all that. stain on the otherhand is the only good villain with conviction and is super compelling the stain arc was way ahead of its time

11. WHY TF DOES IIDA GET SO MUCH SCREEN TIME,???? FUCKING MOVE LIKE HES NOT EVEN COOL???????

12. tetsutetsu deserved to be in class 1A and has more charisma and likability then most of class 1A.

13. monama has a reason to be peeved, like come on 1B is literally known as lesser 1A... that is annoying

14. present mic is ugly n just bc him and aizawa are friends doesn’t mean you Have to ship them together. aizawa can do so much better.

15.(basically point 2 expanded lol) todoroki should have been the main character. hes way more compelling and has a way clearer goal then deku. now if deku became the worlds first quirkless hero thats one thing. but can you imagine todoroki having to decide if he should accept all mights power and if he does is he doing it for the right reason? or seeing an  in-depth look into his family situation. like come on the set up with dabi being his archenemy secret brother, n if u want some bland het romance him and momo. bruh it writes itself.

16. deku having multipal quirks is such Bullshit. like come on giving him more quirks wont make him more of a compelling character.

17. the history of one for all makes no sense. i dont understand sure its buliding of power that gets passed on but,?? why couldn’t all might use all the quirks of the past users, why wasnt he able to see them like deku??? and idk it feels like they are always changing some part of one for all making it inconsistent.

18. bakugou has the best hero custome

19. the show is missing a character in 1A with a healing quirk. i feel like having someone like that would have really added to the show and would have been interesting.

20. tamaki is so much cooler then mirio, his quirk is so much stronger and dont get me wrong I love mirio and his quirk is incredible but tamaki basically as acess to an unlimited amount of quirks. plus its not just food he ate that crystal guys crystal n produced them. its badass

22. todoroki and bakugou not passing the hero exame was bs. todoroki was provoked by the baldheaded kid and he’s the one who started the fight not Todoroki. bakugou is himself and does not do fake comfort hes not all might, whats important is saving people if he gets the job done who cares. them not passing was jus an excuse to push their characters aside for the season.

23. the gentle arc was lame and made no sense especially bc of the roller coaster that was the overhaul arc. i understand that’s the point of it was so Deku realizes that not all villains are these horrible nasty people that are human too but like the placement was just so weird especially since it was before the endeavor and hawks arc it just made no sense to me at least. it just seem like another way to make the viewers think Deku is super cool main character. and once again he gets to defeat a villain all by himself... le sigh

24. bakugous anger is completely unjustified the entire series. I adore Bakugou and I adore his character and he is one of my favorite anime characters ever but He has no reason to be mad he has an awesome quirk he’s a prodigy at everything he does he has both his parents he’s wealthy he is well liked and popular where is the justification for his anger and I’m not saying that just because you have a nice life doesn’t mean you don’t have the right to be angry but this dude is yelling is mad all the time there’s issue with that. and as I stated previously his issue is something he made up in his head. he construed a narrative in his head who deku is.

25. anyone else feel like U.A is understaffed ?

26. that wood hero is a misogynist and hates women... he was real up in arms about mont lady when she was the one who actually stopped and captured that villain.

28. best jeanist is so cool im so sad where is he please come home. he’s literally the coolest pro hero. i dont like how he tried to change bakugou but he had a point on bakugous attuide being a bit much sometimes.

29. endeavor does not deserve a redemption arc stop normalizing forgiving your abusers people don’t have to forgive their abusers no matter if they’re their parents.  and choosing not to forgive them doesn’t mean that you’re holding onto this huge anger and it’s holding you back it just means you choose not to associate with them and to keep them away from you and I totally understand that Todoroki technically needs his father to teach him how to improve them but he doesn’t have to forgive him neither do his siblings they have every right to hold endeavor accountable for everything hes done!

30. MY HERO IS AMAZING AND THESE OPINIONS WERE JUS TO HAVE FUN AND MEAN NO HARM!!!! REMINDER THIS IS ALL FOR JOKES AND FOR FUN AND U DONT HAVE TO AGREE!!!!! my hero is one of the best shonen animes up there with the classics like naruto dbz and one piece, and also am i in no way actually criticizing the author lol Horikoshi has more talent on the tips of his finger nails then my whole bloodline will probably ever have lol !



[no-drama-llama90]

COMPROMISE - Steve Rogers x Reader Imagine

So this is a Fic I actually wrote a little while ago on my old blog. As its one of my favourite MCU Fics that I’ve written I thought I’d repost it here!!!

Author: @no-drama-llama90​

WC: 4674

Relationship: Steve Rogers x Reader, Tony Stark!Best Friend x Reader

Summary: Just Fluff and Cuteness mostly. Mentions of PTSD and trauma. Set at the start of Civil War. What should have happened!!! gif credit

I was laying on my stomach sprawled across my bed, flipping through a magazine, using air to lift the pages with a simple flick of my fingers, when a low chuckle made me look up.

“You know that is super lazy… I approve!”

My face split into a large grin as I spotted my best friend in the entire world nonchalantly leaning against my doorway. I gave an excited squeal, leaping off of my bed and hurtling towards him, wrapping my arms around his neck as he laughed and spun me around.

“Tony, what are you doing here?” I leant back and slapped him lightly on the arm.

Tony Stark gave a pretend grimace and rubbed the spot I had whacked him while following me to sit on my bed. He looked around the small but bright room that had been given to me on my arrival to the Avengers Compound, lingering on the photos on my desk and shelves.

“I always liked that photo,” Tony murmured, looking at the largest photograph on display.

I followed his gaze and gave a small sad smile. “So do I,” I replied softly, my eyes skimming over the smiling faces in the picture. Tony was there, young and exuberant, his arm around my teenage self. My little brother looked surly, having been made to stop whatever game he was playing. Our parents stood proudly behind us. Howard and Maria Stark stood next to my mum and dad, the four best friends laughing and full of life.

Everyone in that photo, except for Tony and I, was dead now.

“So what are you doing here?” I eventually asked the man sitting contemplatively on my bed.

“What, I can’t just pop in to see you?” Tony joked but I picked up on the tension hidden in his voice.

“Hey,” I said softly, making him look at me with a hand on his cheek. I slipped off his glasses so I could see into his eyes. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

Tony seemed to war with himself, an internal battle of will. “I just…” he started but was interrupted by another figure arriving in my doorway.

“Tony!”

I looked up to see Steve looking at Tony a little apprehensively, Wanda hovering in the hallway behind the Captain.

“Captain!” Tony stood and gripped Steve’s hand. Steve smiled genuinely and clapped Tony on the shoulder. The men stepped backwards and Steve’s expression turned unreadable.

“You brought the Secretary of State?” Steve’s tone had an undercurrent of tension, obviously questioning Tony’s motive.

Tony gave a quick nod of his head as an answer and started walking down the hallway, Steve falling into step beside him.

Wanda waited for me to exit my room, my best friend in the compound linking her arm through mine as we followed the two Superheroes to the conference room.

We were the last to arrive, the others already sitting around the large table standing in the middle of the room. Secretary Ross was standing at the front of the table, looking less than impressed by being made to wait. Wanda took the empty chair by Vision, while Steve, Tony and I took seats towards the back of the room. Taking my place at the end of the table between Sam and Steve, I looked over my shoulder to see that Tony wasn’t sitting at the table but instead had taken a seat right in the back left-hand corner.  I frowned at him over my shoulder but he was looking down at his hands, actively avoiding the questioning eyes in the room.

I was properly worried now. His behaviour reminded me of how he was after New York. The panic attacks and insomnia that led him down a dangerous path, that at the time I had not been around to stop.

Secretary Ross started speaking, starting a long tirade. I grew wary as he continued to talk, not liking what I was hearing.

Then he started the slideshow of the destruction left behind by our team.

“New York!” His voice rang out and suddenly there were images of falling buildings and ruined streets crawling with aliens.

I stiffened, my eyes glued to the screen although I desperately wanted to look away.

A large warm hand covered mine, squeezing gently, lending me silent support. I looked up into Steve’s understanding eyes. I smiled weakly at him, portraying my thanks, before looking over my shoulder at Tony. My best friend’s eyes, trained on the projection at the front of the room, were overly bright.

It was the New York Battle that had claimed the lives of my parents and younger brother. And seeing them die right in front of my eyes had awoken the otherwise dormant elemental powers in me. Without New York, I would be a normal college student trying to find her way in the world and popping in to see my family on the weekends.

But life hadn’t worked out that way.

Secretary Ross had moved onto the other cities we’d been in, each name displaying more destruction onto the screen.

“Washington D.C.” Steve stiffened beside me as we watched the three Insight Helicarriers crash into the water.

“Sokovia.” I flicked my gaze towards Wanda, wishing I were closer to where she was sitting, as we watched her home city mid-destruction.

“Lagos.” As the decimated building came into view, I saw Wanda frown and look away, fidgeting in her seat. My blood started to boil. How dare this little man come in and rub our mistakes in our faces. I shot the Secretary a glare that could’ve peeled paint, just as Steve’s commanding tone rang out clearly.

“Okay, that’s enough!” Steve’s eyes were on Wanda, concern making his brow furrow.

Ross gave a nod to his assistant, the projection shutting off as the Secretary continued his long spiel.

“For the past four years, you've operated with unlimited power and no supervision. That's an arrangement the governments of the world can no longer tolerate. But I think we have a solution.”

Ross’ assistant handed him a large foreboding book and slid it onto the table in front of Wanda who gave it a quick glance before sliding it across the table to Rhodey.

“The Sokovia Accords. Approved by a hundred and seventeen countries… it states that the Avengers shall no longer be a private organisation. Instead, they'll operate under the supervision of a United Nations panel, only when and if that panel deems it necessary.”

I peered down the table at the thick book that Rhodey was flicking through, only half paying attention to the conversation still flowing around me. My mind was racing as it came to the realisation of what that book represented.

I turned to glance over my shoulder, just as Steve and Tony traded a loaded look. I turned back towards the table, my eyes meeting with Wanda’s. She looked scared, fear filling her eyes, despite her attempt to keep her expression neutral.

Ross had started to walk away from the table when Nat spoke up for the first time, making my head snap towards her and then towards the Secretary to watch his response.

“And what if we come to a decision you don’t like?”

“Then you retire.”

The whole atmosphere in the room was loaded with tension as the Secretary walked out. I looked around at my team, my family, and knew that I couldn’t let this happen to them. My mind was painting a very clear picture of where this was going and I did not like it one bit.

I stood, ignoring the questioning looks, and walked quickly after Ross, catching up with him at the elevators.

“Secretary Ross?” I called, making him pause in his tracks and look back at me. “Do you remember me? You used to play golf with my father.”

“Y/N Y/L/N. Bobby’s daughter right?” Ross squinted at me questioningly. “What can I do for you?”

I took a deep breath, strengthening my resolve. “Those accords, the panel, the UN involvement, it’s all just bureaucratic bullshit and you know it, sir.”

Ross looked slightly taken aback but then gave a small wry smile. “Is that so?”

I nodded my head and took a step closer. “I grew up surrounded by it. I know a political move when I see it. Someone, somewhere, has an agenda and is using these accords to achieve it.” I locked eyes with him, refusing to budge.

“And you think that's me?” All signs of humour were gone from his now unreadable expression.

I took a deep breath and then continued. I was in too deep anyways to back off now. “I don’t know, sir,” I replied honestly, shrugging my shoulders a little. “All I know is there are only three reasons for these accords to be made.”

“One, they’re hoping that the Avengers will disappear altogether. Two, they want their own personal army to do whatever they want whenever they want. Or number three, they honestly think that the people of the world need protection from the Avengers. And I’m here to tell you that none of those things is going to happen!”

Ross’ expression was now a mixture of confusion and anger. “Is that so. Tell me, little girl, why?”

“Because if it’s reasons one or two there is no way that those people in that room, who have put their lives on the line countless times, will go down without a fight and no way that they will blindly do some bureaucrats dirty work for them.”

“And reason number three, wanting to protect civilians from what we perceive as a danger to their lives?” Ross asked, not able to mask his curiosity.

“My dad told me that you were a smart man, Mr Secretary,” I cocked my head to the side. “You know that these accords will never work. They are doomed to fail.”

Ross didn’t reply, just continued to look at me calculatingly.

“Putting a panel in charge of the Avengers is like putting a flock of geese in charge of herding a bunch of cattle. Nothing is going to get done and pandemonium is bound to follow, and people will die.”

“So, what do you suggest we do?”

His question caught me off guard. I had honestly not expected him to pay attention to a word I said.

I thought about it for a moment. “Honestly I’m not sure,” I said truthfully. “But I know that together we can come up with a solution that better suits everyone.”

“A compromise?” Ross picked up on what I was saying, his mouth quirking up at the corners.

“A compromise,” I agreed, nodding my head in affirmation.

“And you think you and the others.” Ross swept a hand towards the conference room behind us. “Can come up with a better solution.”

“I think we can if we have more time!”

“Fine.” Ross turned towards the elevators and nodded to his assistant who pressed the button to call the lift.

“Sir?” I questioned, not quite sure what he meant.

“You have your time, Miss Y/L/N. I will talk to the UN and get the Vienna meeting pushed. You have one week, one week, to come up with a better solution or the Accords will be ratified.” Ross glared at me in a warning way. “Don’t let me down after all your pretty speeches.”

The lift doors closed on the Secretary, leaving me feeling deflated and little nauseous.

“Well, that was amazing.” A deep voice came from behind me, making me spin around in shock. I hadn’t realised that anyone else was in the corridor.

Steve gave me an unreadable stare, making me shuffle my feet nervously. “I just needed to make him see that those,” I waved my hand towards the room behind him. “Are not going to get us where we need to be.”

Steve gave a quick nod. “Everyone’s in the lounge,” he told me, jerking his head towards our communal area upstairs.

We walked up the stairs together in silence. Steve kept glancing at me as we went. Eventually, I stopped and planted my hands on my hips.

“What?”

The Captain also stopped a few paces away and turned to face me, taking in my annoyed expression.

“It’s just, I never thought you would be such a good mediator,” Steve finally answered, his expression slightly confused.

I sighed and continued walking, brushing past him. “I grew up in a Politician’s house, remember. Bullshitting is a part of my makeup.”

“Did you call us cows, by the way?” Steve asked as I walked away from him.

My mouth quirked up in a small smile as I looked over my shoulder at him, “Maybe.”

Steve gave a wide grin and followed me towards the communal area. I walked into the lounge just as Steve caught up, the sound of arguing immediately putting my teeth on edge.

“A hundred and seventeen countries want to sign this. A hundred and seventeen, Sam, and you're just like, ‘No, that's cool. We got it.’”

“How long are you going to play both sides?”

I glanced between Rhodey and Sam who looked like they were about to come to blows. I opened my mouth to speak, but Vision interjected before I could get a word out.

“I have an equation.”

Steve took a seat at the end of the circle of couches, essentially putting himself at the head of the room. I sat on the couch next to Wanda, as I heard Sam mutter under his breath.

“Oh, this will clear it up.”

Vision looked up, making eye contact with each of us in turn. “In the eight years since Mr Stark announced himself as Iron Man, the number of known enhanced persons has grown exponentially. And during the same period, the number of potentially world-ending events has risen at a commensurate rate.”

“Are you saying it's our fault?” Steve questioned, his tone slightly defensive.

“I'm saying there may be a causality. Our very strength invites challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict… breeds catastrophe. Oversight… Oversight is not an idea that can be dismissed out of hand,” Vision answered his voice even graver than usual.

“Boom.” I heard Rhodey exclaim as I looked over towards Tony, who was being worryingly quiet, stretched out on a couch with one hand on his face.

Nat had also noticed Tony’s behaviour.

“Tony. You are being uncharacteristically non-hyperverbal,” the redhead commented, head cocked to one side.

Steve looked up from reading the accords and glanced at Tony’s prone figure. “It’s because he’s already made up his mind.” Steves tone let everyone know what he thought of Tony's decision.

“Boy, you know me so well.” Tony quipped his sarcastic reply as he pulled himself off the couch, wincing as his hand went to rest on the back of his head. I frowned as I watched my best friend rub the base of his neck, the pain evident in his movement. Nat also eyeballed him carefully before meeting my gaze, raising one eyebrow in concern.

“Actually, I’m nursing an electromagnetic headache.” Tony walked over to the kitchen and grabbed a clean mug. I followed him with my eyes, knowing that Tony only had headaches when he was stressed and not sleeping.

“That's what's going on, Cap. It's just pain. It's discomfort. Who's putting coffee grounds in the disposal? Am I running a bed and breakfast for a biker gang?” Tony’s tone was meant to portray annoyance but all I heard was someone trying to control their own pain by lashing out at others.

Tony put down the coffee pot he was carrying and chucked his phone into the fruit basket at the end of the bench, acting like it was an afterthought as he tapped the screen, projecting an image of a young smiling man.

As the others turned their attention to the photo, I continued to scrutinise Tony. I did not like what I was seeing.

Tony glanced down at the bench he was leaning on and then looked up, pretending to notice the picture for the first time. I resisted the urge to grind my teeth. I always hated it when Tony put on theatrics. He used it as a cover for what he was actually feeling and thinking, and it drove me insane.

“Oh, that's Charles Spencer, by the way. He's a great kid. Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA. Had a floor level gig at Intel planned for the fall. But first, he wanted to put a few miles on his soul, before he parked it behind a desk. See the world. Maybe be of service. Charlie didn't want to go to Vegas or Fort Lauderdale, which is what I would do. He didn't go to Paris or Amsterdam, which sounds fun. He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the poor. Guess where… Sokovia.”

You could hear a pin drop in the room as Tony angrily opened a bottle of pills. I glanced around at the others and saw pain, pity and regret.

“He wanted to make a difference, I suppose. I mean, we won't know because we dropped a building on him while we were kicking ass.” I winced at Tony’s derogatory tone, watching as my best friend popped in a painkiller and chugged some coffee to chase it down. I was only just now realising what a mess he really was.

I glanced over towards Steve, watching as he glanced down at the book in his hands, clearly warring with himself.

“There's no decision-making process here.” Tony’s tone was definite as he came to stand before us, his arms crossed over his chest. “We need to be put in check! Whatever form that takes, I'm game. If we can't accept limitations, if we're boundaryless, we're no better than the bad guys.”

“Tony, if someone dies on your watch, you don’t give up,” Steve told the agitated man, his voice even and sure.

“Who said we’re giving up?” Tony shot back, his eyebrows raising.

“We are if we’re not taking responsibility for our actions. This document just shifts the blame,” Steve answered, his face sincere.

I zoned out the voices as I glanced from one Superhero to the other, the tension growing in my stomach. Once again my mind was already racing ahead, predicting the outcomes from this dispute. And I didn’t like what I was coming up with.

Tony’s next remark broke through my thought process as it came very close to what I was already thinking. “If we don't do this now, it's gonna be done to us later. That's the fact. That won't be pretty.”

Wanda spoke up from her position next to me, her voice wavering a little and her accent thicker than normal. “You’re saying they’ll come for me.”

Vision immediately spoke up. “We would protect you.” He glanced at Wanda, the affection that only appeared around the witch, evident in his expression.

I gripped Wanda’s arm tightly, the thought of her being taken from the compound finally tipping me over the edge. I’d had enough.

“Right, you and you,” I interrupted whatever Nat had started saying, pointing an accusing finger at Tony and Steve. “With me now!”

My tone left no room for argument, as I stood and stormed out onto the balcony, holding the door open. Silently, without question, Tony and Steve followed, while the rest watched curiously.

I pettily used wind to slam the door shut behind the two men as I stalked over to the glass balustrade. I turned and crossed my arms over my chest, glaring at the two Superheroes before me.

“Right, you two need to stop right this minute,” I huffed angrily, glaring at them.

“But..” Both opened their mouths to speak, fingers pointing at the other accusingly.

“No buts,” I said firmly. “That team in there relies on both of you, BOTH OF YOU, to show them where they need to go. And if you’re fighting and squabbling like children it’s going to end the Avengers. Do you hear me?” I leant forward and stared into their eyes, making sure they saw that I was deadly serious.

Both men sighed and their shoulders sagged as they took in what I was saying.

“What do you suggest we do?” Tony asked, starting to pace the length of the balcony. “Mr Always-right and I aren’t going to see eye-to-eye on this.”

“Do you know what both of your problems are?” I asked rhetorically, spreading my hands out before me.

“Please, enlighten us,” Steve responded unnecessarily, one eyebrow quirked in amusement.

“You are both looking at this in Black and White and it's not that simple. You need to start looking at the grey areas.”

“I don’t like grey area’s,” Steve’s said warningly, telling me he thought I meant outside the law.

“No, not like that,” I explained to him exasperatingly, running a hand over my forehead. “I mean compromise.”

“Compromise?” They said in unison like it was the most foreign word they had ever heard.

“Yes, compromise,” I repeated, feeling like I was talking to a brick wall. Two, very good looking but completely thick and uncooperative, brick walls.

“Listen, we have made mistakes, okay, that's true. And yes maybe we do need some oversight like Vision said. But,” I held up a hand to stop Steve before he could argue. “But I don’t believe a panel and a book of rules are going to let the Avengers do the work they need to. So, compromise.”

I looked at both of them expectantly, leaning back against the rails and waiting for their suggestions.

Tony and Steve just looked at each other, their faces masks of uncertainty, neither one willing to give up on their ideals.

“Fine, do I have to do everything?” I muttered under my breath, standing up straight. “I would maybe suggest to the UN that, instead of a panel, they assign the Avengers a Liaison Agent, someone who can monitor what we do, in a non-invasive way, and can advise us of the UN’s suggestions when crisis’ come up. However, we maintain the last say on where we do and do not go. Does that make sense?”

I was now the one feeling a headache creeping up into my temples and I massaged them as I watched the boys consider my words.

“And what about ramifications, consequences for our actions?” Tony asked, his brow furrowed in thought.

I shrugged, not really having thought that part through. “I don’t know. I mean, something like what happened in Lagos was an accident. No one could have predicted it and I don’t believe Wanda should be punished for it!” I was staring at Tony the entire time I spoke, gauging his reaction.

“Tony, do you believe that what you started, that the Avengers as a team, make this world a safer place? Have we done that? Can we keep doing it? Or would you rather ‘put us in check’, as you worded it?” I stood right in front of him making sure he kept eye contact with me, my face sincere and open.

He stared down at me and I finally saw the hurt and pain that was eating him up inside.

“Oh, Tony,” I whispered, wrapping my arms around his neck and hanging on tight. His arms twined around my back and he hid his face in my shoulder, his breathing uneven.

“We can’t save everyone, no matter how hard we try,” I whispered in his ear. “If we can’t find a way to live with that, next time we might not save anyone.” It was something that Steve had said to me several times and I knew that it was what Tony needed to hear.

Tony pulled back and I smoothed back his hair, resting my hands on his cheeks. He gave me a small smile. “Thank you, angel,” he said quietly.

“I’m here for you, always,” I replied, reaching up on my tippy-toes and kissing him on the cheek.

Tony turned towards Steve and extended a hand. “Compromise?”

Steve gave a genuine smile and grasped the offered hand. “Compromise.”

“Well, maybe one of the delinquents inside have an idea for consequences,” Tony said, looking through the glass at the rest of our team sitting, watching the whole thing unfold outside. He strode towards the door but I stopped him before he got too far.

“Hey, why were you so set on these Accords? And don’t tell me it was because you were feeling guilty, because I know that that's not all of it.”

Tony looked down at his feet, his hands fiddling with his glasses. He looked up and grimaced, knowing I wouldn’t stop until I had the truth.

“Pepper and I are…” he paused and then rushed forwards. “Are taking a break.”

“Oh, Tony, I’m so sorry.” I lay a hand on his forearm.

“A few years ago, I almost lost her, so I trashed all my suits. Then, we had to mop up HYDRA… and then Ultron. My fault. And then, and then, and then, I never stopped. Because the truth is I don't wanna stop. I don't wanna lose her. I thought maybe the Accords could split the difference…”

“You wanted to be put in check,” I finished for him. He nodded slowly, his eyes on the horizon above my head.

“Hey.” I caught his attention, making him look at me. “I’m here to keep you in check, okay. I won’t let you go crazy!”

He smiled at me wryly. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

He gave one more smile before opening the doors and disappearing inside. I sighed and turned towards Steve.

The Captain was leaning against the railing, looking at me over his shoulder.

I walked across the deck, resting my arms next to his on the railing, only an inch of space between us.

“Sooo,” I drew out the word, looking out onto the horizon deliberately avoiding his gaze.

He chuckled and looked at me sideways. “Compromise, huh?”

“Yep,” I answered, turning so I was facing him. My expression turned serious. “We have to Steve. Otherwise, the Avengers will be ripped apart and I can’t let that happen. You guys are the only family I have.”

Steve twisted so he was looking at me straight on. He smiled, his whole face lighting up. “You are amazing!”

I immediately blushed, looking down at my toes but despite my embarrassment, I heard myself say, “Yes I know!”

This startled a laugh out of the Superhero in front of me. I looked up and our eyes met. An undeniable feeling, one I had fought for a while, crept up from my stomach and lodged in my throat.

Slowly, I stood on my tippy-toes and pressed my lips to his. He stiffened, surprised at first but then relaxed into the kiss, his hands threading through my hair and holding my head tightly to kiss.

We broke the kiss but stayed centimetres apart, breathing heavily.

“So, that happened,” Steve said eventually, his mouth curled up into a soft smile.

“Finally,” I muttered. “It was about time. Do I need to do everything around here?”

Steve’s response was to press his lips back to mine, this kiss not at all slow or gentle. As I moaned at the fervour of his attack, I barely noticed the wind whipping around us or the threatening growls of thunder on the horizon.

“HEY!” A loud shout startled us apart and we looked over to the door leading inside. “Are you planning to level the building Y/N?” Nat asked calmly, pointing behind us.

A huge storm was forming on the horizon, wind howling and lightning clashing.

“Whoops,” I exclaimed, reaching inside me for my source of power and extending my hands out towards the wall of grey. Slowly the clouds melted away until the beautiful sunny spring day returned.

Steve looked over at me proudly, beaming ear to ear.

“That’s my girl!”

[frasier-crane-style]

Let’s talk about Treks baby

The One Where Riker Stars In The Grey.

When Riker is reassigned to go over a terraforming colony bedeviled by pesky, genetically engineered wolves, a new first officer is assigned to the Enterprise. And he’s kwazy.

The irritatingly named Quintin Stone is sort of the Nick Locarno to Peter David’s later Mackenzie Calhoun. Brooding rogue, troubled past, gets the job done, you know how it goes. It’s a pretty unabashed power fantasy/Mary Sue in New Frontier, but there the whole thing is so over the top and tongue in cheek that you really can’t take it too seriously. Quintin, on the other hand, is more played for drama--for most of the story, there’s a question as to whether he’s outright homicidally insane. Luckily, Troi is on top of things, checking on his mental well-being and also kinda being his love interest, like a literal version of this gif.

Spoiler alert: It turns out he’s deeply traumatized by a not wholly believable incident in his past*, so good on ya for catching that one, Troi. 

Looking back on it, this book would almost seem to count as a deconstruction of the ‘broody antihero’ trope, showing that the character type just doesn’t work in TNG. He infuriates most of the cast and doesn’t get the girl, while those who are taken in by him are presented as saps (yup, Wesley). 

Speaking of New Frontier, with the self-aware jokeyness and tongue-in-cheek acknowledgment of Trek’s campier elements, would it be fair to say PAD was ahead of the curve in predicting the modern incarnation of Trek? Its take on Star Trek would definitely fit in with the Kelvinverse movies and especially with The Orville, which is pretty much the people’s choice for Trek these days.

*Okay, I get the interpretation of the Prime Directive as not interfering or revealing yourself to alien cultures until they develop warp drive, at which point they’re going to figure out you’re there anyway. And if you can stop an asteroid from wiping them out without them knowing about it, fine. Cool. I get that. But I don’t get Star Trek stories where the PD means you can’t interfere with the Romulans’ development, even though they’re showing up on your doorstep every other week and shooting at you. It’s like saying if Hitler 2.0 showed up in Germany and started amassing power, the US shouldn’t try to discourage that shit or, I guess, engage in any diplomacy whatsoever. It’s mindbogglingly isolationist. And isn’t it arguable that part of a culture’s natural development is interacting with other cultures? Like the back and forth between America and Japan driving forward the medium of animation?

The One Where Picard Nearly Bangs Guinan’s Sister

This one has a bit of nontroversy attached to it, because it came out while Star Trek was still kind of hashing out the Borg, so there’s a disclaimer at the beginning basically going

The gist of it is that Borg aren’t supposed to have gender (a bunch of people with blue hair just had their ears perk up, didn’t they?), but PAD here has a drone that gets detached from the Collective and is a girl. It seems pretty self-evident to me--Picard gets assimilated, they get him back, he’s still a dude, so why wouldn’t it work that way with a chick? But this is back when assimilation wasn’t the Borg’s m.o. the way it would later become. They assimilate a Ferengi in this book (yup) and it’s kind of a big deal. Oh, and as you might’ve guessed, Girl Borg bears a few similarities to Seven of Nine, who would show up later in the franchise, although PAD’s take on it is more “we rescued a girl from a serial killer’s basement after ten years and she’s totally catatonic,” less “what is this human emotion you call ‘kissing’?”

Good thing we have Deanna Troi, a counselor, to ease Girl Borg through the healing process. Oh, wait, she basically takes one look at GB and goes

Thanks for the help, Troi. I guess this subplot is supposed to prove that it’s pointless to try to save any assimilated person other than Picard, because mentally they’re already dead, so might as well just have a bunch of fun guiltlessly blowing them away

(And that goes for you too, audience.) But still, bit of a downer. At least Spock would’ve tried a mind-meld.

There’s also this chick Delcara, who in a pretty XXtra Flamin' Hot narrative choice is like Picard’s soulmate and he’s sort of in love with her slash obsessed with her after having a psychic vision of her in Starfleet Academy and y’know? TNG might’ve opened the door to this by having Crusher bang a ghost, but we should close that door. We should close it right now.

(By the way, in case you’re wondering if this Guinan’s sister business means Picard is down with the swirl, it turns out she’s Guinan’s adopted sister, so is it just me or is that weirdly ambiguous? She’s a beautiful black woman and Picard wants to do her. You can come out and say it, book. No one minds.)

Anyway, Delcara is piloting one of dem planet-killers from back in TOS--in hindsight, it’s weird that the Abrams movies never did anything with the one big Death Star-y thing that actually is canon to TOS, isn’t it? They gave Khan and Nero ridiculously super-sized ships, but the one kaiju that’s actually in continuity, nothing--on a vendetta against the Borg, who basically killed her family twice over. Man, if only there were some kind of psychologist on board the Enterprise to help her through that trauma.

I sense she feels great bitterness, Captain.

Yeah, why does she get a seat next to the Captain again? Let Worf have that seat. How is it fair that he has to stand around all day, he actually does stuff!

Anyhoo, as you might’ve guessed from the opening set on a holographic rendition of Don Quixote, with a Data Discussion(tm) of quixotic endeavors... and the fact that Delcara intends to totally wipe out the Borg, gosh, I wonder if she’ll succeed--this one’s something of a downer. It does give the promised Planet Killer on Borg Cube action for those fanboys who’ve wondered who would win in a wrassling match, and Picard learns a valuable lesson about not pursuing suicidal vendettas against the Borg, which he definitely takes to heart...

(Wow, he did that one-handed? What kind of gains does Sir Patrick have?)

But still... bit depressing.

The One Where Bones Becomes A Space Pirate

Another giant novel, I’m surprised this one never got raided for parts in any adaptation. Even on the page, it’s pretty breathtakingly cinematic, and yet, the only part of it that’s really been used is, if you squint, Bob Burnham in Discovery being a disgraced Starfleeter.

The premise is that, some months ago, the TOS Enterprise crew was involved in a breaking of the Prime Directive that resulted in the destruction of a world and the ‘Enterprise 5′ of bridge officers blamed for the tragedy being shunned and hated wherever they go (ah, that utopian Star Trek future, predicting an entire population that’s politically engaged). 

Now, with the command crew scattered, everyone’s trying to get back to the planet where it all happened to find out what tf went down for reals. In a bit of a stretch, this is really hard for them--no one seems to be able to call in a favor or hire Han Solo to take them there or anything, which I suppose is in keeping with Star Trek 3′s similar situation six years prior. They don’t have to go so far as to steal a Constitution-class this time. I suppose it’s fitting for the wild and woolly TOS era. In TNG time, they’d probably be able to dial a Space Uber. (As it turns out, it seems like if they’d just coordinated their plans, they all could’ve hitched a ride with Spock, but then there’d be no book, much less a Giant Book.)

Anyway, Kirk’s been court-martialed and is working as an asteroid miner, Chekov and Sulu fall in with Orion pirates, Spock is challenging the whole thing in court, and Uhura’s in jail........oh. It’s like that, huh, Starfleet?

Like I said, most of the plot involves the crew going off on all their separate adventures, eventually getting the band back together and figuring out what went down. Apparently, the book was criticized for its nonlinear structure, but I think it worked out really well. Starting months after the incident, with everyone disgraced, gets you pumped to find out what happened. Then when they flashback to the shit going down, there’s a great sense of foreboding because you know something is going to happen, just not what exactly. 

If I can make a criticism, it’s that after some great build-up, the ending seems a bit anticlimactic. The nature of the threat requires some unbelievable Hollywood Evolution to buy (nothing new for Star Trek, admittedly, and this is a crew that’s fresh off meeting Apollo and Abraham Lincoln) and while it is fitting that they’re able to resolve the situation without blowing up anything or punching anyone (Star Trek loves to talk the talk about how anti-military it is, then end their movie with some Klingons getting blasted), it still seems a little... dry. You’re not going to have Kirk hang off of anything, story? Not even a little? Okay. I still had fun. 

And you’ll note that once again, Deanna Troi was of no help whatsoever. Geez, woman, you’re oh for three here!

[raisonroux]

OTAS: Ch. 7

A Last Goodbye

With Hux’s order still hanging in the air, Rose’s eyes dart around the confinements of the hoistway, desperate for another way out. Yet every creative option her brain proposes likely ends in death. No way out but through the cabin filled with the two most terrifying men of the Order. Her body, heavy with fear, begs to stay still as she remains prostrate on the car ceiling. A sudden bang of a fist below her finally propels her body to move as she maneuvers to unhook her harness. At the same time, she uses the thick edge of her boot to slip under the metal lip of the latch door and kicks it open with a stifled grunt. In by inch, she scoots her frame over the edge; her bottom half lowering into the car. Breviped, but sturdy legs swing back and forth searching for anything to help her down: a hand, a ledge, a wall... but nothing comes to her aid. Instead, the two men below step to the side of the cabin, unconcerned with her struggle. Wincing, she braces for impact as she drops to the cabin floor with a thud. A sharp pain from her ankle shoots through her, nearly toppling her back to the ground. However, the pain is nothing compared to the dull ache in her heart at the thought of losing her friend. In an effort not to show weakness, she bites the soft flesh of her inner cheek and stands at attention, pushing through the agony.

“Commander. General,” she nods to both, “Forgive my intrusion. My team and I are running a manual diagnostic check on the electromagnetic interlock and its interaction with the jack. We were informed to keep the lift moving for service.”

Rose watches General Hux’s upper lip tense tightly in frustration. In her peripheral, Commander Ren remains unmoved.

“And yet you failed to consider the aid of a service droid, placing both the inhabitants and yourself in danger.” Hux glares at the eavesdropper, who literally fell from the sky. Determining she is either an innocent idiot or an unpracticed spy - his entire expression sours further as he looks down on the woman, awaiting her response.

“Destroyed in action, sir. My team and I thought it best not to wait for a replacement due to importance of this lift system, 101A.” Rose states with a curt nod, the force shaking her entire body, causing her foot to send a fresh signal of stinging pain to her fluttering eyes.

Hux opens his mouth to speak, but the rare sound of Kylo humming approvingly catches him off guard. Both he and Rose instantly turn to the Commander who waits a moment before responding.

“Resourcefulness… a trait currently lacking in Hux’s troopers. Perhaps you could give him a few pointers.” The robotic timber of his voice altering helmet fails to fully mask the arrogance in his insult.

Immediately General Hux folds his arms into his chest in defense and huffs through his nose, “Commander Ren, after the incident in the hanger, these shortcuts can no longer be tolerated. There is protocol…”

Kylo puts up his hand to prevent the General from finishing his thought and turns his mask to Rose.

Recognizing that a spat between leaders is unseemly in front of a crew member (despite Commander Ren starting it), the General surrenders his thought. He looks back to Rose, his jaw clenches with a forced smile as his hand flies back behind him to hit the stop button. Eyes never leaving the technician, he states, “Very well. You may exit now and continue your work once the Commander and I reach the bridge.”

“Of course. Thank you, Sir.” Rose backs through the open door, nodding lowly.

“And tech, I want a thorough report submitted to base in the next six hours to run against records.”

Rose bows again in compliance and the doors close. Head still down, the heels of her hands push against her eyes as she chokes back a cry. With a strained breath in she stands upright. She knows what she has to do.

With no time to waste, she hustles through the pain to make her way to the med bay. Unconvinced of the diagnosis, she goes to see you for herself. No, it has to be the trooper whose uniform you stole.

As she limps through the empty lobby of the clinic, she moves her way past the swinging door to the inpatient units. Reading the patient names on the doors, she stops frozen when she sees “FN-2102.” Afraid of what she might find, Rose pushes on the door. Locked.

“Gah! No!” she lets out in a strained whisper as she rests her head against the door. The repetitive sound of robotic tracks against a tiled floor slowly grows nearer, stopping only once directly at her left side.

“You are not authorized to be in this area,” states a medical droid, nearly bumping into Rose to push her out. Standing her ground, Rose presses her back to the door. She will not leave without knowing for sure.

Rose motions down to her now swollen ankle. “But my foot...”

“Minor Occupational health issues care resolved in the urgent care down the hall. You must leave.”

“But… I… um.”

Click.

Startled, Rose looks down to the moving door handle and takes a step back as it opens. There in the small crack of the door stands a purple skinned Keshiri doctor in a white lab coat, face indifferent to the surprise of an intruder. Rose maneuvers her neck to peer past the doctor standing in the way. Through the bent arm of the doctor is the picture of a woman, face obscured by an oxygen mask and deep purple bruising covering all exposed skin. Aside from the heart wrenching scene of a battered body, Rose's breath catches when she sees the hair… it’s your color. It’s you.

“My my… so much interest in this patient today,” Dr. Pel’tik raises his hands up and pulses, motioning for Rose to back up. “Look, nothing has changed in the past half hour when I gave my report to Petty Officer Ollan. Unless you have orders from Commander Ren to terminate, there is nothing left to do.” His expression attempts a comforting smile, but it contorts into a callous straight line across his face instead. He cocks his neck as gloved hand raises to stroke his chin, “I will admit, after that pressure malfunction in the hanger, everyone on guard was deemed lost to space. If she wasn’t scheduled to die any minute, it would almost be a miracle. Unless...”

Rose cuts him off to prevent him from finishing that thought, “But what if she wakes up?”

The doctor lets out an amused huff before instantly correcting his tone, “She is not going to wake up. The trauma to her brain stem is irreparable. Been that way since a security droid brought her in.”

The medical droid hovering over Rose scolds the doctor, “Excuse me Dr. Pel’tik , but patient information is confidential according to policy number 15-”

The impatient man harshly cuts off the robot, “Spare me space junk, I not even supposed to be on call today.”

Rose lets out a small whimper and the doctor sets a hand on her shoulder in a halfhearted attempt to be reassuring.

“Must've been a friend of yours, huh?” he says, feigning interest.

Rose nods as she uses her sleeve to wipe away the tears from her eyes.

“Sorry about that, but I do have some good news,” he says and Rose perks up, “At least it’s not you, right?” Rose yanks her shoulder away from the man’s hand in disgust. The annoyed doctor rolls his eyes, which settle on Rose’s swelling ankle. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a small bottle and pours out four green pills into other hand.

“Here. Take these. It’ll take the edge off of that foot of yours. Go on.” Dr. Pel’tik hands two pills to Rose and stares her down until she swallows them. Satisfied that his work here is complete, he ingests the other two pills and his face at last reveals a genuine smile.

“Excuse me, Dr. Pel’tik,” the droid continues, “but according to policy number 62115, medicinal dispensing requires…”

“Hey! Go be useful and count the bedpans again,” He sternly yells to the droid as he points his finger down the hall. “And you”, his serious tone continues, “Time to go. I have no time for tears.” He locks the door. His shoulder bumps into Rose as he goes into the patient room across the hall.

Rose makes the most of the spare moment alone to place her hand on the door, “Goodbye friend. I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry.” As Rose cries into the collar of her shirt, the influence of the green pills takes hold. Her body swells with a bubbly lightness, and the pain in her foot all but disappears. With her renewed sense of strength, Rose vows to herself that she will not stay a moment longer aboard this death trap.