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queen-haq · 3 years

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Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 1

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Words: ~2200 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to any kind of emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost...

~~~~~~

You met Billy Russo at an industry conference two years ago. While you didn’t know much about military security at that time, your specialty was online security and both of you ended up attending a lot of the same events. He was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen, magnetic and a total flirt, and it was obvious he was aware of his good looks and used it to his benefit. You didn’t sleep with him during the conference. Something told you his dance card was already full every night. So, instead, you exchanged contact information and left it at that.

A year later you were hired as a consultant for one of Anvil’s direct competitors and moved to New York City. When Billy called you to meet for drinks, you knew exactly what he was up to. You were no fool. He wanted information on your employer and thought he could charm you into spilling secrets. You told him it wouldn’t work over a second drink, and he simply laughed.

You didn’t fuck him until a month later. The official reason for the delay was conflicting schedules but mostly it was due to insecurity on your part. To the outside world you were attractive in the kind of way that snuck up on people. You weren’t the type to turn heads, like Billy was, and your fucked up childhood had ensured you didn’t let anyone in easily. It wasn’t until a pep talk from your best friend, Davina, about enjoying Billy Russo for what he was – a fun time and nothing more - did you finally decide to take the leap.

Fucking Billy had been unlike anything you’d experienced before. You’d had sex before of course, but not the kind of sex that made you lose all of your inhibitions and scream and come for hours. Billy knew how to coax you out of your shell and demand things from him you’d never even knew you wanted. You fucked him in your apartment, his penthouse, the underground parking lot, in his car and that was all within the first week. He had opened up a whole new world for you and you were willing to try anything and do anything he wanted. After that first night together, all the walls you’d built around your heart collapsed. Your best friend warned you repeatedly that great sex made people confuse lust for love, that she was worried you were falling for Billy, but you told her you were an adult and could handle yourself.

Of course that had been bullshit.

It had been been almost a year now since you and Billy were sleeping together and you had no idea where you stood with him. You didn’t even know if he was fucking other women, though a part of you suspected he was. If he was with you two nights a week that left five other nights to be with someone else. It clawed at you, knowing you weren’t enough for him. It heightened all of your insecurities, made you believe that you were worthless and ugly just like your abusive father used to scream at you. Of course you’d never tell Billy that. The minute he suspected you were getting attached to him emotionally he’d bolt, he’d already warned you of that. So you kept your thoughts to yourself and let your pain eat away at your insides when he wasn’t with you.

At least that had been the plan until you saw him on a date with Madani.

You were at a restaurant with some of your coworkers, enjoying happy hour, when you got up to use the bathroom and spotted Billy sitting in the other corner of the room. The breath rushed out of your lungs, your knees felt weak. They were enraptured with each other, legs intertwined, heads close, a true couple. You knew who she was because he’d let it slip he’d been working with Homeland on something and, you being you, you’d looked her up. Her pictures didn’t do her justice, because she was stunning. And exactly the type of woman Billy would be proud to be seen with.

After you and Billy started sleeping together, Billy rarely took you out. Sure you guys would go to some hole-in-the-wall places or fast food joints but never to fine restaurants, not like this one. You never complained because why waste time when you could be busy fucking his brains out? Except now that you saw him and Madani sitting only a few feet away from you, and he was proudly holding her hand and being openly affectionate, you realized it had all been by design. He never took you out because he was ashamed of you. If you had been prettier, thinner, sexier, taller – anything but what you already are – he’d want you as more than a fuck buddy. He’d want you as his girlfriend.

It was a bitter pill to swallow but at least now you knew the truth and that meant you were back in control of your life.

As much as it hurt, it felt good to know you were the ones making decisions about your future again and they didn’t revolve around Billy. No longer would you be obsessing over what he wanted, what he was doing, if he’d like a certain thing on you or not, if he was fucking someone else or not. You wouldn’t spend hours researching Billy like you did in the past and finding out things about him that he never knew you knew. No, now you were finally free.

And it was time to move on.

Tonight was the night of the fundraising gala. Your company had purchased a table and the CEO of your company had personally extended an invite for you to attend. Based on a conversation you had with Billy three weeks ago, you knew he would also be attending to represent Anvil. When you’d first broached the subject you’d hoped he’d asked you to attend as his date – but he hadn’t. At the time you’d reassured herself the reasons were practical. It would be weird for Billy to be sitting at a competitor’s table (if he went with you) and you would risk offending your boss if you sat at Billy’s. But now you knew the truth.

So, tonight, you were dressed to the nines in a curve-hugging gold dress with a plunging neckline which emphasized all of your assets. Your heels, which cost more than the dress itself, were over five inches high and made you feel like an Amazonian goddess when you sauntered in them.

When you walked into the ballroom with Davina in your arms that night, you felt confident in a way you hadn’t in a long time.

The thing about you that a lot of people didn’t know was that you were fucking fantastic at owning a room – despite your insecurities. You may not be beautiful but you were charming. You were really great at getting strangers to open up, people were drawn to you. It was one of the reasons your CEO promoted you so quickly after a few months. Your job, initially at least, was meant to be a technical role but when you were invited to a party with potential clients you had schmoozed them so easily they had signed the contract within the week. And then you had impressed them with your actual technical skills which only cemented their positive impression of you.

So, yeah, you were in your element and you were ready to charm.

“What table are we?” Davina asked.

“14,” you said. Of course your eyes were automatically drawn to Anvil’s table on the seating chart. 157. A safe distance from your table, which meant there was a good chance you two wouldn’t even be crossing paths in the grand ballroom. You didn’t know whether to be overjoyed or disappointed.

A while later you were circulating around the north bar, chatting up with some potential clients that your boss had wanted you to pay particular attention to when you saw Dinah Madani. She was in one of those slinky, maroon satin dresses, her hair up, and you felt that surge of jealousy go through you again. She was probably here as Billy’s guest considering this wasn’t the kind of events Homeland agents typically attended.

“Y/N!” You turned to find your boss waving you towards him.

Glad for the distraction, you picked up two glasses of champagne from a nearby server and headed towards him, handing him his drink. Your boss was chatting to a group of people you vaguely recognized, but the smile on your face stiffened when you spotted Billy amongst them.

Fuck. He looked good in a tux. His hair was slicked back, and you were struck with the sharp memory of fucking him in his car one night with your fingers roughly fisting his hair. God, you loved his hair, loved running your fingers through the silky strands.

Billy’s eyebrow quirked up when he saw you and you wondered what he thought of you so dressed up. No. It didn’t matter what he thought of you. Fuck him, you reminded yourself.

“Y/N is our new Executive Director,” your boss said, introducing you to the group. “Her division has shown a significant growth ever since she joined Valiant.”

You smiled, shaking hands with everyone. When it was Billy’s turn, you reached out to clasp his hand, not betraying any emotion even though you felt an immediate charge upon touching him. He gave you an amused smile, like he was enjoying the charade.

“Nice to meet you all,” you said. “And don’t listen to Roger. Valiant was doing fine on its own.”

“But Y/N has definitely changed the way we do some of our regular operations. I didn’t realize how archaic this industry’s systems and processes were until she came along.”

“Sounds like I may need to poach Y/N from Valiant,” Billy said with a smug smile, his eyes fixed on you.

“Anvil couldn’t afford me,” you reciprocated with equal smugness.

Roger laughed, patting your arm. “We’re not giving her up without a fight.”

“Clearly,” Billy replied.

The expression on Billy’s face was new to you, you had no idea what he was thinking but you also didn’t want to waste any more of your time obsessing over him.

Roger leaned in closer, lowering his voice so others wouldn’t hear him. “Table 35. Those were the clients I told you about.” As you glanced over to the table he mentioned, your eyes met Billy’s. He was watching you intently, still with the unreadable mask on his face.

Ignoring Billy, you flashed a confident smile up at Roger. “Don’t worry about it. It’s taken care of.”

You turned back to the group, your gaze skipping past Billy’s. “It was a pleasure to meet you all. I hope you have a great evening.” Bidding everyone goodbye, you headed to Table 35.

***

An hour later you were on the terrace, enjoying the cold, crisp New York air that rattled your bone. You were exhausted. Networking took a lot out of you and now you just wanted to go home and soak in the tub. Davina, a natural extrovert, was still in the ballroom, flirting and socializing but you needed a few minutes of privacy so you had snuck outside to compose yourself.

“Congratulations on the promotion.”

Your jaw clenched as soon as you heard Billy’s voice from behind you. You turned around to look at him as he swaggered forward, closing the distance between the two of you.

“You never told me,” he remarked.

You shrugged your shoulders. “We didn’t tell each other a lot of things.”

“I get the distinct feeling you’re pissed at me but I don’t know why. Care to fill me in?”

“What reason would I have to be pissed at you?”

“You tell me. I’ve called you-”

“You’ve never called me,” you interjected.

“Fine. Texted. Whatever.” Billy took a step closer, forcing you to look up at him. Even in your fucking stilettos, he towered over you. “You’ve been avoiding me for two weeks now. Why the ghosting?”

“I just think it’s time I move on.”

Oh, Billy didn’t like that. His eyes grew darker, so dark they were almost pitch-black. “Really? You’ve got the next one lined up already?”

As much as you wanted to believe he was jealous, you knew that wasn’t the case. “We both know you don’t give a fuck about me so drop the fake jealousy bit.” You tried to walk past him but he grabbed your arm and pulled you close. You felt his angry breath skim over your skin as he glared down at you. “Let me go, Billy.”

“Why?” he snarled. “So you can go fuck Roger?”

“You really expect me to believe you’re jealous of me seeing someone else?” you snapped back. “Or is it because it’s Roger? He’s more successful than you, he’s your competitor, his company has been taking all the contracts you’ve been fighting for and now he’s got you beat in the one area you thought you excelled at. Fucking.” You angled forward on purpose, holding his gaze. “Here’s an idea. Why don’t you go fuck Roger and leave me out of it?” You smiled up at him. “Or does Madani not let you stray?”

Understanding dawned on Billy’s face. “So that’s what this is about.”

Part Two

A/N - This is my first reader insert fic. Hope you guys enjoyed it. If you’d like me to tag you, please leave a comment or DM me.

If you created this GIF, please let me know so I can give proper credit :)

#billy russo x reader #billy russo #billy russo imagine #the punisher #reader insert #ben barnes #my fics

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number5theboy · 4 years

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Please elaborate on how Five could've turned into the most insufferable character to watch

Thanks for asking me to elaborate on this text post:

@tessapercygranger, @waywardd1 and @margarita-umbrella also wanted to see a more detailed version of it, and I ended up writing an essay that’s longer than some of my actual academic essays. So buckle up.

WHY NUMBER FIVE SHOULD BE THE MOST OBNOXIOUS CHARACTER IN TV HISTORY, AND HOW HE MANAGES NOT TO BE

Number Five: The Concept That Could Go Horribly Wrong

Alright, let’s first look at Five in theory in an overarching way, without taking into account the execution of the show. The basic set-up of the character, of course, is being a 58-year-old consciousness in a teenager’s body, due to a miscalculation in time travel. Right off the bat, Five is bar none the most overpowered of the siblings; by the end of Season 2, no one has yet been able to defeat him in a fight. He is a master assassin – and not just any master assassin, but the best one there is – and a survival expert, able to do complex maths and physics without the aid of a calculator, shown to have knowledge of half a dozen languages, has very developed observational skills and, to top that all off, he can manipulate time and space to the point where he can literally erase events that happened and change the course of history. And Five knows how skilled he is; he is arrogant, self-assured and sarcastic, and his streak of goodness is buried deep inside. David Castañeda once described Five in an interview as 90% chocolate with a cherry in the middle, meaning that you have to get through a lot of darkness and bitterness before knowing there is a good core, and I think it’s an excellent metaphor. However, Five is also incredibly, fundamentally terrible at communicating with anyone, and, because he is the only one with time travel abilities, the character a lot of the actual plot - and the moving forward of it - centres around. Also he’s earnestly in love with a mannequin, who is pretty much a projection of his own consciousness that functions as a coping mechanism for all the trauma he has endured. All in all, this gives you a character who looks like a teenager, but with the smug superiority of a fifty-something, who a) is extremely skilled in many different things, b) has a superiority complex, is arrogant and vocal about it, and most of the superiority is expressed through cutting sarcasm, c) has one very hidden ounce of goodness that he is literally the worst at communicating to other human beings, d) is what moves the plot along but is also bad at talking to anyone else, meaning that the plot largely remains with him, and e) his love interest is essentially a projection of himself. Tell me that’s not a character who is destined to be just…obnoxious, annoying, egocentric, a necessary evil that one has to put up with to get through this show. There are so many elements of this characterisation that can and should easily make Five beyond insufferable, but the show manages to avoid it, and I’m putting this down to three aspects.

That Trick of Age and Appearance

Bluntly put, Five as a character would not work if he was anything else than an old man in a 13-year-old body. Imagine this character and all his skills and knowledge, but actually just…a teenager. Immediately insufferable. Same goes for him being around 30, like his siblings, all of which are stunted and traumatised by their father’s abuse. If Five, being comparatively unscathed by Reginald to the point where he explicitly does not want to be defined by his association with his father, were 30 like his siblings, it would just take the bite out of that plot point and also give him a lot less time in the apocalypse, reducing the impact it had on him as a person. And making Five his actual 58-year-old self would make him very similar to Reginald, at least on surface level, with the appearance and attitude. Five and Reginald are two fundamentally different people, but having one of the siblings being a senior citizen that’s dressed to the nines and bosses his siblings around in a relatively self-centred way does open up that parallel, and would take away from Five’s charm as a character. Because pairing the life experience of a 58-year-old with the appearance of a teenager gives you the best of both worlds. You get the other siblings (and a lot of the audience, from a glance in the tags of my gifsets) feeling protective and paternal about Five, but his age and experience also give the justifications for his many skills, his arrogance, in a way, and his ability to decimate a room full of people. It’s the very interesting and not new concept of someone dangerous with the appearance of something harmless, a child. This is also where Five’s singular outfit comes in. I know we like to clown on Five to get a new outfit, but I think what gets forgotten often is how effective this outfit is at making the viewer take him seriously. The preppy school uniform is the perfect encapsulation of the tension between old man in spirit and young teenager in appearance. The blazer, vest and especially the shirt and tie are quite formal, relatively grown up. They’re not something we, the audience, usually associate with a teenage boy wearing; it makes Five just a little bit more grown up. But there is also a reason characters in this show keep bringing up Five’s shorts and his socks, because those are not things that we associate with grown men wearing; they’re the unmistakably childish part of his school uniform. Take a moment and imagine Five wearing a hoodie or a t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers; would that outfit work for him as well as the uniform does? Would he be able to command the same kind of respect or seriousness as a character? I don’t think so; the outfit is a lot more pivotal in making Five believable than a lot of people give it credit for.

Writing Nuance

The other big building block in not making Five incredibly insufferable is the writing. Objectively speaking, I think Five is the most well-written, and, more importantly, most coherently written character on the show (which does have to do with the fact that the show’s events are all sequential for him), and his arc and personality remain relatively intact over the course of the two seasons. More to the point, a giant part of what makes Five bearable as a character is that he is allowed to fail. He is written to have high highs and low lows, big victories through his skills and his intelligence, but also catastrophic failures and the freedom to be wrong. His superior intellect and skillset are not the be-all end-all of the plot or his character, just something that influences both. His inability for communication has not (yet) been used to fabricate a contrived misunderstanding that derails the plot and left all of us seething; instead, it’s a characteristic that makes him fail to reconnect with the people he loves. This is a bit simplified, as he does find common ground with Luther, for example, but in general, a lot of the rift between Five and his siblings is that they can’t relate to his traumas and he does not understand the depth of Reginald’s abuse, which is an interesting conflict worth exploring. Another thing that really works in Five’s favour is that he is definitely written to be mean and sarcastic, but it is never driven to the point of complete unlikability, and a lot of the time, the context makes it understandable why he reacts the way he does. Most of the sarcastic lines he gets are actually funny, that certainly helps, but in general, Five is a good example of a bearable character whose default personality is sharp and relatively cold, because it is balanced out with many moments of vulnerability. Delores is incredibly important for this in the first season, she is the main focus of Five’s humanising moments, and well-written as she totes the line between clearly being a coping mechanism for an extremely traumatised man and still coming across to the viewer as the human contact Five needs her to be. In the second season, the vulnerability is about his guilt for his siblings, it’s about Five connecting a little bit better to them. There’s also his relationship with the Commission and the Handler specifically – which honestly could be an essay on its own – that deserves a mention, because the Handler is why Five became the man he is, and this dynamic between creator and creation is explored in a very interesting way – their scenes are some of the most well-written in the entire show. And TUA never falls into the trap of making Five a hero, he is always morally ambiguous at best, and it just makes for an interesting, multi-faceted character, well-written character, and none of the characteristics that should make him unlikeable are allowed to take centre-stage for long enough to be defining on their own. I know a lot of people especially champion the scenes where Five goes apeshit, but without his more nuanced characterisation, if he was like that all the time, those scenes would not hit as hard.

Aidan Gallagher’s Performance is Underrated

But honestly, none of the above would matter that much if the Umbrella Academy didn’t luck out hard with the casting of Aidan Gallagher. I think what he achieves as an actor in this show is genuinely underappreciated. Like, the first season set out to cast six adults having to deal with various ramifications of childhood trauma, and a literal child that had to be able to act smart and wise beyond his years, seamlessly integrate into a family of adults while seeming like an adult, traumatised by the literal end of the world, AND had to be able to create the romantic chemistry of a thirty-year-long marriage with a lifeless department store doll. The only role I could think of to compare is Kirsten Dunst in Interview with a Vampire, where she plays a vampire child who, because she is undead, doesn’t age physically, but does mentally, so she’s 400 in a child’s body. And Kirsten Dunst had to do that for a two-hour movie. Five is a main character in a show that spans 20 episodes now. That’s insane, and it’s a risk. Five is a character that can’t be allowed to go wrong; if you don’t buy Five as a character, the entire first season loses believability. And they found someone who could do that not only convincingly, but also likeably. As I said, he is incredibly helped by the costuming department and the script, but Aidan Gallager’s Five has so much personality, he’s threatening and funny and charming and arrogant and heartbreaking. He has the range to be convincing in the quiet moments where Five’s humanity comes to show and in the moments where Five goes completely off the rails. Most child actors act with other children, but he is the only child in the main cast, and holds his own in scenes with adults not as a child, but as an adult on equal footing with the other adult characters. That’s not something to be taken for granted. But even apart from the fact that it’s a child actor who carries a lot of the plot and the drama of a series for adults, Aidan Gallagher’s portrayal of Five is also just so much fun. The comedic timing is on point, he has the dramatic chops for the serious scenes, the mannerisms and visual ticks add to the character rather than distract from him, and his line deliveries, paired with his physical acting, make Five arrogant and smug but never outright malicious and unlikeable. It’s just some terrific acting that really does justice to the character as he is written, but the writing would not be as strong if it wasn’t delivered and acted out the way Aidan Gallagher does. He is an incredible asset for this show.

Alright, onto concluding this rambling. If you made it this far, I commend you, and thank you for it. The point of all of this is that Five, as a character, could have been an unmitigated disaster of a TV character. He is overpowered, arrogant, uncommunicative and could so easily have been either unconvincing or completely unlikeable, but he turned out to be neither. It’s a combination of choices in the costume department, decisions in the writing room, and Aidan Gallagher’s acting skills that make the things that should make him obnoxious and annoying incredibly entertaining, and I hope you liked my long-winded exploration of these. Some nuance was lost along the way, but if I had not stopped myself, this would’ve become a full-blown thesis.

#thanks for the ask again #TUA #The Umbrella Academy #Five Hargreeves #tua s2 spoilers #my meta #i guess #Replies #Anonymous

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hopeymchope · 3 years

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Ok I’m sorry if this pisses anyone off but…. The fact Shuichi and Kaede and Kaito and Maki where practically “brainwashed” into having romantic interests with each other does NOT scream “healthy relationship” to me. In fact it’s actually borderline UNSETTLING. Granted both Kaede and Kaito are dead but STILL!

I'm probably the wrong person for this kind of ask given how much I've written here about not believing Tsumugi's BS RE: their supposedly made-up identities. However...

Even if I did buy into the notion of there being some kind of different "pre-game" versions of the characters, that doesn't mean that their attractions or interpersonal relationships were inherently "scripted" or "brainwashed" into them. It's already canon that they couldn't possibly script and predict everything, because we know that Tsumugi was NOT supposed to kill the first victim. With that in mind, it seems far more plausible that Team Danganronpa/Tsumugi would've created the base personalities and backstories for their "characters," and then they just had to let relationships and conflicts arise naturally from those starting points. This would've made it easily to predict some elements, but not others.

So, the kinds of things they could predict: Kaito and Kokichi would naturally fall into conflict with each other in some fashion, of course. But the exact form that conflict would ultimately take has to be beyond their control. And Korekiyo is almost inevitably going to wind up killing somebody based on his memories/persona, sure. But when will that happen and who will he target? Because of his predilections, you can really only assume that he'll target A) girls and B) not Miu. But even when it came time for his murder plan, he wasn't actually intending to make Angie part of it. Similarly, imbuing someone with detective/investigation skills is going to naturally make them a major protagonist.... as long as they don't wind up targeted and killed by a culprit at some point. And even if you give Kirumi memories/backstory that's going to provide her with a huge motive to drive her towards trying to escape the killing game, that doesn't mean you can presume to know how she might go about that. You can't "script" that level of detail into someone's mind that far in advance, right? There's always going to be elements of unpredictability.

To get more to the point of the matter, how do you predict who is going to bond? Maybe you can implant a preferred "type" into someone's mind that causes, say, Kaede to be attracted to emos. But even then, that's not enough on its own to cause the relationship to develop the way it did. And honestly, I think the details of Maki and Kaito's bond/relationship in particular had to be unpredictable. It's not like their personalities and backstories make them any sort of natural or logical match. So I don't think they would've really been "brainwashed" into having feelings for each other... even in the event that we take Tsumugi's claims as gospel. (And as other Anons have already observed, we don't know what exactly it is that Kaito feels towards Maki. Maki's feelings towards Kaito are blatantly romantic, but the inverse isn't clear.)

Moreover, we've still got Ultimate Talent Development Plan to consider. In the UTDP reality where everyone is just a regular Hope's Peak student, Kaede is still clearly attracted to/interested in Shuichi romantically (even though Shuichi appears clueless about this). Additionally, the Kaito/Maki/Shuichi workout trio still forms, and Maki still opens up quite a bit to Kaito... so it sure seems like similar relationships are destined to form in any context. Even those where no "brainwashing" is part of the narrative.

#asks #anon #drv3 spoilers #danganronpa #danganronpa v3: killing harmony #danganronpa v3 #ndrv3

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aitarose · 4 years

Text

GOLD DIGGER | BOLIN

PAIRING: Bolin x Earthbender!Reader [fem]

PLOT: Probending is easy when it’s all about the money. There’s no time for friends, romance, or allies—but that all changes when Y/N’s in-game rival saves her life. loosely based on this request by @comicgeek

WARNINGS: enemies to lovers, a little fluff, a little angst, stuck together

WORD COUNT: 2.9k

A/N: i rewrote/edited this entire piece, so that’s why i added a tag list. it used to be 1.4k words and that wasn’t cutting it for me so i made it longer and decided on it being one part only, also i hated the gif i originally used so here’s a new one lol

MY MASTERLIST

Here come the Fire Ferrets’ opponents! The three-time defending champions, the White Falls Wolf-Bats!

Y/N raised her right arm above her head, watching proudly as her winged sleeve unveiled itself to the fan-filled stadium. She stood in a triangular formation beside Tahno and Shaozu, who were howling as loud as they possibly could.

Her expression was nothing more than stoic as a low whistle blew from her lips, adding an unnoticeable pitch to the viewer’s screams and cheers for their reigning champions.

Flames erupted around their team, fireworks exploding in the air in bursts of red and yellow. Through the plastic of her wolf mask, Y/N could clearly see her opponents, the Fire Ferrets, groaning in disgust at the obnoxious display in front of them.

A large smirk rose from Y/N’s lips as she noticed the unmistakable frown of annoyance on her rival’s face. He stood with a slight slouch, visibly cringing at the antics of the Wolf Bats, determined eyes paired nicely with his loathsome look.

In all her time living in Republic City, Y/N had never met anyone quite like Bolin. He had this natural positivity and enlightenment ingrained into his personality that she’d never been able to fully understand.

Sure, she hadn’t exactly been trying to get to know the earthbender any better—but he also hadn’t ever been at the top of her priorities.

Probending was the main idea on Y/N’s brain ever since she’d learned of the sport. As a child, her parents had taken her to countless matches and championships that she’d found a passion for the game. There was nothing she loved more than a good match between challengers.

But after the death of her parents to the Triple Threats, Y/N’s love for probending subsided. The excitement quickly died and was replaced with ambition. A dry and one-dimensional ambition for nothing more than the profits of fame and autographs.

Y/N cracked her knuckles, shooing away any nerves or hesitations she harbored over the probability of their win. They’d already bribed the referees, there was no way their opponents could win—even if they did have the Avatar on their side.

The champs and the challengers face off at the center line. And here we go!

At the echoing ring of the bell, Y/N dashed forwards. The familiarity of the game infused with her muscle memory made her a dangerous player. She knew the ins and outs of the sport, giving her the advantage over any skilled opponent, no matter how powerful they were.

She turned to Tahno, giving him a curt nod of reassurance, before watching him begin to shoot waves of water at the Avatar. On her opposite side, Shaozu made his way towards Bolin. Bursts of fire shooting in every direction, including Y/N’s

Flames seared the air, narrowly missing her face as she easily dodged Mako’s first attempts at an attack. She studied his movements, picking up on his style of fighting before letting her senses connect with the weight of the stone beneath her feet.

She raised her hands quickly, sending the flying slabs in Mako’s direction in a cross formation. Y/N whipped her head to see all three of her attacks hit their target, forcing the firebender into the next zone.

“Perfect form, Y/N!” Shaozu shouted, encouraging his teammate in eliminating their opponents. He turned to speak again, before being knocked down by none other than Y/N’s least favorite person in the entire world, Bolin.

As the boy cheered himself on, his teammates chimed in with words of gratitude and proudness. “Nice shot, Bo!” Mako called, complimenting his younger brother with a large smile pinned across his face.

Y/N, however, was anything but excited for him. She instinctively sprinted in his direction, making a beeline plan of attack. The stones nearest to her raised up and around her body, focusing on the figure that was Bolin.

Revenge was the only thought on her mind. The idea of the physical winnings and profit that she could make off of this match alone. The idea of the billboards and interviews that she’d get paid for, egging her emotions of anger on.

Bolin screamed in surprise as the disks targeted him. He threw up his own hands, blocking her attacks with clumsy ease. “Is that the best you’ve got?” He taunted between breaths, barely managing to dodge her stream of deadly attacks.

Whilst Bolin was distracted, Y/N gestured to Tahno, who’d been dealing with Korra, for assistance. The snake-like boy gave a sly smile to what he assumed Y/N was hinting at, leveling an ongoing stream of water directly at Bolin.

Look at that! Y/N uses her quick thinking to undermine Bolin, whilst Tahno performs the perfect, borderline illegal, assist that should certainly elicit a foul—or apparently not!

“Are you kidding me?” Bolin’s mouth was agape in shock at the ref’s decision. He grunted as Y/N gave Tahno a high-five with a sneer gracing her lips. At the sight of Bolin’s helplessness, she let out a laugh—finding his exasperation amusing.

Bolin mimicked her movements in pettiness, making fun of the way she walked and talked. Y/N rolled her eyes at his childishness, choosing to respond with the same amount of maturity while sticking her tongue out in annoyance.

As the game went on, the two teams seemed to be quite evenly matched in terms of strategy and teamwork. Not even the hefty bribe Tahno had given the referee seemed to put the Wolf Bats in favor of winning.

After what felt like hours, the challengers had reached the point where a coin toss was deemed to be necessary to determine the winners of the probending championship. This event, having never happened before, caused an uproar in the stands, chaotic excitement raging through the arena.

Y/N stared in anticipation at the airborne coin, her heart pounding in unison with every flip and turn it made. She could feel the sweat dripping down the back of her neck as she waited to hear who had been determined to choose the final element.

“Yes!” Korra shouted, pumping her fist into the air before grabbing both Mako and Bolin by the shoulders and taking them aside to their section of the field. Y/N, Tahno, and Shaozu impatiently waited for them to finish—though Y/N already had a good idea of what was about to happen.

“I’m taking this one.” Bolin announced, pushing his brother and Korra aside. He nodded to the referee, confirming the Fire Ferret’s conclusion. “Earthbender versus earthbender, Y/N.”

Y/N reluctantly laughed as Bolin puffed out his chest in an attempt to appear more intimidating. She shook her head in disbelief that he actually thought that he had a chance of beating her. “Alright, big guy. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

She stepped up on the pedestal, facing opposite to Bolin, before pulling her fists up to her chest. While settling their stances, Y/N sent a sly wink in his direction, confusing him further—causing him to completely miss the ring of the starting bell.

Bolin ducked, feeling the crisp wind from the flying rock slab touch his hair. He continued to dodge attack after attack, sending an equal amount of stone in Y/N’s direction as she was in his. His skill was impressive and undeniable, but also equal to his opponent’s.

“Fight back, you coward!” Y/N screeched amidst her attacks. She was beginning to feel as if she was losing valuable energy while being the only player on the attack. Bolin hadn’t made a single move that couldn’t be defined as defense, choosing only to avoid her marks.

In her frustration, Y/N’s advances had grown sloppy. She’d become less focused and precise, and more upset and angry. Her emotions were very obviously conveyed through her bending, Bolin taking note of her current emotional status.

He finally made his move, seeing his opportunity and thrusted one first in her direction. Unfortunately for him, Y/N made her move at the exact same time, causing both benders to be thrown from the platform.

The thin discs collided between them, becoming nothing but pebbles and dust in the thick air. Fog shrouded their surroundings, restraining them from seeing four feet in front of them—their only idea of what had happened being the moderator’s booming voice.

Well, what do we have here folks? Our very first and unbelievable championship tie, thanks to the outstanding performances today by the Wolf-Bats and the Fire Ferrets!

Gasped filled the stands as the fog dispersed, revealing a dumbstruck Bolin and a fuming Y/N. She huffed dramatically, her face the shade of a red tomato, and marched towards Bolin, pointing her finger at him accusingly.

“I can’t believe you!” She screamed, throwing her hands in the air. She lunged forwards, slightly pushing Bolin away before continuing her rant. “You only sent one attack! One—and somehow that makes me lose the entire game? No!”

“All you did was stand there! You don’t deserve this win, I do!”

Bolin gulped, feeling his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. As much as he liked to say that he couldn’t stand Y/N, that she gave him immense anger and frustration, that didn’t make him any less afraid of her.

“All I did was play the game.” He defended, genuinely frightened by her overwhelming negativity. Bolin stumbled back, taking one hand and scratching the back of his neck in awkwardness, before saying something that was better left unsaid.

“At least I’m not just some gold digger who only wins when I bribe the ref.”

Y/N’s mouth dropped at his accusation, shocked that those words were able to come out of Bolin’s mouth. Bolin, who was supposedly the most kind and understanding person in the entire city. “What did you just say to me?”

Bolin pursed his lips, refusing to say more in fear of making the entire situation worse. Luckily for him the chittering and cheers of the crowd drowned out their argument, the only people listening being their teammates who were standing by in silence.

“I could beat you with or without a bribe,” Y/N challenged, trying to save the little dignity she had left. While she hated to hear Bolin’s accusation, there were parts of it that were true. Would she really be able to win without a little help from up above? Or was she just a washed out player with no real talent?

Pushing her hesitations aside, Y/N took another step closer to Bolin. She smirked as she saw him shake nervously at the absence of space between them. “Tomorrow night, just you and me, in the town square for our rematch.”

Before Bolin could accept or deny her offer, static filled the arena. Electricity fizzled throughout the stands, causing police offers to drop like flies. Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed as the barely made out the masked figures standing in the audience above unconscious guests.

Electric gloves coated their arms, forcing innocent bystanders to surrender to them and their unjust and self-righteous cause. The Equalists stood as one in a circle around the seats, confidence and selfishness rang off of their looks.

Y/N trembled in fear—fear of losing the thing that mattered most to her, her bending. “Is that?” She trailed off, afraid that if she spoke his name aloud, it would make the moment even more real.

“Amon!” Bolin’s voice boomed in her ear, along with the sound of explosions. The dome above the entire arena had been destroyed, fragments and shards of glass nailed down onto the guests and players. Y/N’s eyes widened, her body was frozen in place, not nearly bracing itself for the inevitable impact.

She could faintly make out a voice shouting, “Y/N! Get out of the way!”, before being grabbed like a rag doll. Y/N felt weightless in the air, falling from the playing field and into the still water below. Her head was forced underwater by a large hand whilst glass continued to rain from the sky.

Y/N hurriedly swam towards the surface of the deep pool, gasping for air and spitting the contaminated water from her mouth. She flailed her arms like a flying lemur with its head cut off in an attempt of adjusting to her new surroundings and environment.

“Watch where you throw those things!” An unexpectedly high pitched voice groaned from behind her back. The boy behind the noise grabbed her untamed hands and held her body close—Y/N assumed he must’ve been making sure there were no Equalists lurking at the bottom of the arena.

After a moment of silence, Y/N craned her neck to see who had saved her from the blast of the explosion. Her expression of gratitude quickly turned to one of annoyance as she saw that it was just Bolin, who she realized was still holding her to his chest.

“Bolin.” She struggled to escape from his grasp, wriggling and kicking his legs in the dark water. “Will you please get your hands off of me? I am capable of swimming, too.”

With her request, Bolin immediately let go of his hold on her, his strong arms ejecting themselves out of his tight embrace. He swam beside her, the earthbenders wading towards the platform connected to the finishing pool that led to the back exit doors of the arena.

“Do you think they’ll be alright up there?” Bolin asked, nervously twiddling his fingers together. His face was distraught, feelings of uselessness overcame his thoughts. “I know Korra and Mako are strong and can definitely handle themselves, but I feel like I should be helping at least a little—”

“Don’t think like that.” Y/N interrupted him, seeing the stress that had drowned out his natural optimism. She gave him a small smile, the corners of her lips rising slightly in an attempt to comfort his nerves. “Your only job right now is to stay alive.”

Bolin took a deep breath, seriousness taking over his features. “You make it sound so easy,” he shuddered, letting his clenched fists relax. “Staying alive is so much hard work. One of these days I’m going to end up as the main course in the Triple Threat barbecue.”

Y/N couldn’t help but giggle at his ridiculousness. It felt good to lighten the mood with a small joke, and Bolin always had humor to share—and much as she liked to despise him, he could be quite funny sometimes—maybe even a little cute.

She raised her right arm, touching his shoulder affectionately, and gave him a real hug. One where her arms wrapped entirely around his body, comfortably sitting above his waistline. It felt right to be in his arms. Perhaps she’d been wrong about Bolin in all their time knowing each other.

Bolin peered over he shoulder in the middle of their first mutual embrace, ensuring that they were safe in their current position. “I don’t see any signs of Equalists down this hall.” He whispered, motioning for Y/N to follow behind him.

The two earthbenders quietly snuck through and around the twists and turns of the underground passageways while the battle above them could still be heard. Chaos and cries for help echoed down the metal halls. Y/N shivered at the thought of what might’ve happened to her if Bolin hadn’t saved her in time.

Considering Y/N had never been one with the skill of hiding her emotions, Bolin took great notice of the fear that had overcome her. He internally fought a long hard battle with himself, before ultimately deciding to put his ego aside.

Bolin reached for Y/N’s hand, taking her’s in his own. He gave her a heartwarming smile, his grin toothy and pure. “I’m really sorry for what I said earlier,” he shrugged, sighing quietly before taking in another breath. “I was really angry and I know that’s no excuse.”

“I have absolutely no idea what your life is like outside of the games, and it was totally uncool of me to even assume anything about you. Can we just move on?”

Y/N snorted in amusement at Bolin’s innocence and purity. She took her hands, while still in his, to her mouth. She pressed a light kiss to his knuckles before letting go. Bolin stared at her in awe, surprised but welcome to the new development that their relationship had taken.

As he struggled to say a single word in response to her kiss, the two rivals had already reached the service doors that lead into the outside, and hopefully safe, world. Y/N pushed the exit open, holding it so Bolin would be able to escape as well.

“I guess this is where we part ways,” she grimaced, realizing that after tonight, they’d go back to their old routine of cat and mouse. Y/N didn’t know what to think of Bolin, but she definitely had a different perspective than she did when she woke up in the morning.

Bolin was quiet for a moment before his face lit up in excitement. He raised his eyebrows at Y/N, wiggling them for a moment in an attempt to make her laugh, which he succeeded in. “What do you mean part ways?”

“We still have our rematch tomorrow night!”

TAGS: @practicallylivesonline @cherryskyies @shell-bells-ringding @xapham @mochminnie @bombardia

#bolin x reader #bolin imagine #bolin imagines #lok imagine #lok imagines #tlok imagine #tlok imagines #tlok x reader #lok x reader #korra #mako #asami #bolin #asami sato #earthbender #earthbending #probending #wolf bats

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shortkingzuko · 3 years

Text

title: growing fondness

relationship: jeong jeong/piandao

warnings: brief allusions to SA, light mention of homophobia and transphobia

summary: Piandao and Jeong Jeong's feelings for each other through the years. Despite himself, Piandao managed to grow a fondness towards the man.

word count: 4k

read under the cut or on AO3 for more tags and details on warnings!

20 YEARS BEFORE THE END

Dislike is too strong a word for the emotions that they first carry for each other. Dislike implies a meeting, an aversion, and an emotional reaction to each other. At first, they only have apathy. What else would they have for each other?

Jeong Jeong is a lieutenant commander, a fire bender to boot, his days are spent in war meetings, dusty courtyards, using a stick to thwack his student’s stances when they were off (and they were often off), and conversing with soldiers of higher ranks. It’s a world Piandao is barred from by virtue of his cold hands and cold spirit, and removed further still due to his previous engagement, called off before it could become a marriage, now that his records were proudly stamped with the seal meant only for men. While commanders and recruiters would repeat, until they were blue in the face, that the Fire Nation does not hold confusion against him, he, of course, called off his marriage before he was a man, and thus no illegal activity could have occurred, Piandao knows that he is looked at with a critical gaze. His interactions with fellow soldiers and commanders are watched and noted, and the Fire Nation, for all her might and glory, would never risk a scandal.

Divided as they are, they feel nothing short of the basic respect a soldier is meant to have for his so-called superiors. Perhaps a glimpse of quickly greying hair, or sharp cheekbones beneath dark skin, inspires a sense of aesthetic appreciation, but it is quickly ushered away upon hearing harshly said instructions and critiques.

This changes when Jeong Jeong, - Lieutenant Commander Jeong Jeong, he introduces himself as, frustration clear in his voice - is reassigned to the non-bending corps of the training academy. Whispers and conspiracies flourish at the news, as people try to guess the cause. Some say Jeong Jeong ‘lost his stuff’, that his fire-bending students have outmatched him in the field, though Piandao doubts that to be true. Another in Piandao’s rank suggests that Jeong Jeong was caught in bed with an Admiral’s daughter, that this is a punishment for his crassness and disrespect, since promiscuity is not, in itself, a reason to be stripped of his title. Piandao doubts that as well, based on the polite apathy Jeong Jeong seems to hold for the women that share Jeong Jeong’s rank; all of them capable and beautiful, yet inspiring none of the behaviour in Jeong Jeong that other men exhibit.

The most believable guess that Piandao hears is that Jeong Jeong criticized a decision in a private meeting, asked a question that implied disrespect to a superior officer, and being forced to teach non-benders was supposed to scare him back in line. A reminder that despite his mastery of the element, he can easily be stripped of any valour or honour that comes with it. After all, Piandao thinks bitterly, nothing is as insulting as being forced to teach non-benders.

Regardless of the reason, it’s clear that his new position of testing hand-to-hand combat to lower ranks is meant as a punishment, one that Jeong Jeong accepts with little grace. His attitude is dour, words harsh as he barks orders at troops, and has a clear disdain for those who were never kissed by sparks or flames. Lessons are unpleasant, and Piandao’s opinion of Jeong Jeong sours as days turn to weeks of the man directing soldiers to fight each other, offering little guidance besides telling them that they would perish within minutes to the dirt-caked armies of the Earth Kingdom.

It’s an insult that strikes Piandao a little too close to home. The words all too familiar to the disbelief of his friends and family when he told them he was going to continue his military career past the very basic training all Fire Nation citizens are forced to go through. The concern that wove its way into every conversation, asking him what he would do if an Earth Kingdom thug caught him off guard, or what if another cadet found out about his condition and snuck into his bed chambers at night. As talented as he was, everyone would explain, he was nothing compared to the might of spirit-born flame.

Piandao doesn’t quite remember what he said that provoked Jeong Jeong, though he knows it was snide, under his breath but purposefully loud enough that if the Lieutenant Commander wanted to make a scene, he could. Of course, Jeong Jeong challenges him to a duel, as Piandao knew he would. His calm demeanour hides a hot temper that everyone knows about. The courtyard is cleared, all other ensigns packed against each other around the walls and pillars of the training yard. He’s given a training sword, heavy and unbalanced, the blade dulled to prevent mortal wounds, and Jeong Jeong, the bastard, takes only the thing bamboo rod he was using before, brandishing it as a sword. The message is clear; he doesn’t need a weapon to take Piandao down. It infuriates Piandao more than it should.

He’s seething as he gets into his stance, sword poised, and eyes narrowing as he walks Jeong Jeong prepare. The long shadows of the late afternoon sun obscure Jeong Jeong’s face, and for some reason, that makes it easier for Piandao to maintain his upset. He’s overconfident, clearly, and the bamboo reed wobbles and quakes with each motion. Jeong Jeong smirks, and for a moment Piandao wonders how long he spent riling them up in search of a fight.

Piandao moves first, darting forward and to the side, trying to gauge Jeong Jeong’s agility, and whether or not bending is on the table for him. He reacts quickly enough - of course, he does, for a man of his title and skill - though Piandao can see some hesitancy in his movements. Likely, he thinks, making a half-hearted thrust to test Jeong Jeong’s reflexes again, his muscles aren’t warmed up yet. All he did was stand around until now, and he didn’t even stretch before making everyone else clear off. He knows that if he wants to strike, he needs to do it sooner, rather than later.

With that thought in mind, Piandao lunges forward again, swinging his arms upward to block the obvious swipe that Jeong Jeong makes with his reed. The wood wobbles as it slides against the dulled metal of Piandao’s blade, and faintly, he can see smoke rise from where Jeong Jeong is gripping it. He ducks when Jeong Jeong makes a wide swing, kicking a leg out to force his lieutenant commander to take another step back. It’s just a matter of blocking another swing, the bamboo crackling from the force and from the heat emanating from Jeong Jeong’s hand, before Piandao is standing once again, holding his blade just shy of Jeong Jeong’s head.

He grins when he sees the shock register on his superior’s face, his eyes widening and eyebrows furrowing in frustration and confusion. Jeong Jeong’s lips part, almost to make a soft, Oh, before quickly closing again. From this distance, Piandao can see strands of hair falling out of the tight bun that all Fire Nation troops keep their hair in for training. He’s almost pretty in this light, Piandao thinks. Then Jeong Jeong huffs and flicks his wrist, and before Piandao knows it he’s being smacked in the check with the reed of bamboo, the wood hot to the touch and leaving a dark red welt on Piandao’s tanned skin. He drops his sword and stance in shock at the sensation.

“This is why you’ll die in the Earth Kingdom,” Jeong Jeong, voice booming once again. “You’ll never survive if you’re too soft to finish the job.”

Piandao scoffs. “Would you have hit me if I did hit you?”

“You should never assault a superior officer,” Jeong Jeong, though his voice is blank, dull as if he’s repeating a mantra that he’s been told many times. Students around the courtyard start to fidget, unsure what to do. “... You are well-trained, uh..”

“Piandao,” he supplies, only a little put off that Jeong Jeong doesn’t even know his name.

“Yes, Piandao. You put up a good fight. You may even inconvenience those mud-welding buffoons before they crush you to death.”

It’s not quite a compliment, but it’s all Piandao gets before Jeong Jeong is back to yelling orders to the rest of the students. Surprisingly, he tells them that they can all head off to bed early, so they may dream of improvement.

If Jeong Jeong is a little more respectful to Piandao in the days that follow, if he offers a little more feedback to people during training, if the lessons are more thoughtful than just ‘practice these poses until I say we’re finished', then no one is willing to question it, just in case things will go back to how they once were. By the time that Jeong Jeong has won his way back into the good graces of his superiors and is once again reassigned to his old students, Piandao is almost sad to see him go. Despite himself, he managed to grow a fondness towards the man.

10 YEARS BEFORE THE END

The sun is obnoxiously bright and inviting for such a testing evening, Piandao thinks, squinting at the sun as he makes his way towards the town. Presumably, it would be less glaring if he left later. The distance from his house could easily be shortened by carriage, but he needs the time to calm himself, put on a more friendly demeanour than he truly has for the men he’s going to meet.

Sometimes he wants to say ‘screw it’ and stop replying to all the letters he receives from the people he knew in the military (well, most of them, at least) and to stop agreeing to invitations to come out to dine and drink when they’re in town. Sometimes, becoming a shut-in doesn’t seem like such a bad idea.

If Piandao drags his feet a little as he makes the trek to the village, no one can blame him, nor does anyone seem to notice, already caught up in the merriment of drinking. He sighs but plasters on a grin as he approaches the table, loudly announcing his entrance as he sits at the table. The tabletop is already damp and sticky with alcohol, and even before everyone has greeted him, a glass is shoved in his hand as he’s encouraged to catch up with the tipsy table.

The chatter is asinine, and they cycle through topics that they’ve discussed well enough. The folks that Piandao trained with badger him about why he left the military while bragging about their exploits. They tell him if he had stuck around he could have a wife by now - despite everything you have ‘going on’, they always make sure to tack on - he would probably be commander by now, given his skills. They tell him about their government-provided vacation homes that they’ve been promised in the Earth Kingdom. They tell him that, sure, he lives a pretty cushy life as it is, but once the war is over - and they’re so close to winning, they tell Piandao with a wink - they’ll be rolling in coin and be given the highest honours.

The waitstaff and other patrons surely hate them, but what can they do? No one seems to notice the rest of the bar flinching as a playful argument amongst them grows in volume No one else at Piandao’s table notices when the waitress stops being the young, pretty girl, who brought them their first bottle of soju and starts being the rotund, thick-armed man, likely the owner of the establishment. Other patrons start clearing out, despite the half-full bottles still on their tables. Piandao wonders if there’s a line that they’ll have to cross to get kicked out, though surely it’s far in the distance. The military’s money is no less gold, and after months at sea, his old crew seems eager to spend it on booze before they head back to their families.

By the time they start loosening up and giving Piandao what he came here for, they’re suitably drunk. Even Piandao feels a little fuzzy around the edges. Everyone at the table leans forward, their voices lowering to a slurred whisper, as they dish the gossip they’ve all heard on their respective vessels. Which captain’s wife cheated on him while he was at sea, which ensign’s corpse was found burned beyond recognition, which ship has lost funding. Which battles have been lost without the public knowing or, more frighteningly, which have been won without reporting. The information is invaluable now that he doesn’t have the ability to hear it firsthand.

Tragically, the important gossip is always few and far between. His drinking partners scoff and shove each other, glaring at one another if a comment gets too close to being critical, or worse, negative about their military pursuits. Someone makes a joke about how Commander Anong alone is responsible for any lost battles since her beauty distracts everyone. Another comments on the figure of a young woman sitting at the bar. The mood lightens and the moment passes, and any thread of useless information that Piandao could collect is lost.

He’s about to call it a night, make up some excuse to leave and start the long hike back to his childhood home on top of the hill when a large hand claps him on the back.

“Piandao, remember that old Lieutenant that we all hated? Jeong Jeong?” At the name, a few soldiers turn to spit on the ground, earning another laugh from the table. Piandao sees one of the bartenders grumble at the mess. “You nearly beat his ass once?”

“I recall,” Piandao replies. His response makes everyone else at the table double over with drunken laughter, all unable to get out what the joke is.

“You’ll never guess what that scumbag did.”

“What did he do?”

It takes a minute for the giggles to die down enough for any answer to worm its way through their lips. “ Defected ! Made a huge scene at a meeting then gave a speech to his crew about the ‘evils of war’! Ran off into the woods like a dog with his tail between his legs afterwards!”

Piandao is shocked into silence for a moment, but when he sees the searching eyes of his companion, he forces himself into a hearty laugh. It is soon swept away by the laughter of the table.

“Oh, when we find him, it’ll be good fun,” a man who is now a captain, who has sway and power and money, says, before taking another swig of drink. “It’s always a good day when we find a traitor.”

“I wonder if he’ll cry like a coward when we drag him out of whatever mud hut he’s hiding in,” another soldier adds. “Remember how chicken he was when you fought him, Piandao? Took his final shot at you when you had already won, as a coward would. I swear they’ll make anyone an Admiral these days.”

It feels like his insides are twisting until he can get away. There’s groaning and pleading for him to have one more drink as he manages to extract himself but the hole made by his absence is already filled by the time he’s reached the doorway. More tales of bloody victory and pregnant spouses to be told while he walks home.

His mind buzzes as if it’s full of insects as he makes progress on his venture home. He almost can’t believe the news that Jeong Jeong left , that he was able to even get away and survive.

A traitorous part of his brain whispers, "for now."

There’s only a small stack of letters at home with Jeong Jeong's distinctive handwriting, perfect in form and size, but always too thick, as if he took too long to write each letter. Like he was trying so hard to master each word.

Their… exchanges have been lighthearted, chaste, even, and fleeting. Piandao would receive maybe two letters a year if he was lucky, and he refused to send anything more than he received. In the years since Piandao almost bested Jeong Jeong, their relationship went from begrudging respect to a tentative friendship. They wrote to each other about poetry, in words and infighting, and it always made Piandao’s heart quicken whenever he received a letter with Jeong Jeong’s seal. For however long it took to read Jeong Jeong’s latest accounts and send a reply, Piandao turned into an embarrassing romantic.

By the time Piandao makes it home, the sun has long been set, and it’s mostly by muscle memory that he can find, much less enter, his estate. He lights a candle when he reaches his room, letting the flickering light grow as he sets more candles ablaze. For a moment, he feels a brief temptation to write Jeong Jeong a letter.

But what would he say? Congratulations? Good luck? Please come back to me, even though Jeong Jeong was never his? Or maybe, knowing that the military would be ripping open every letter that would even mention Jeong Jeong, a heartfelt rejection, a letter filled with nothing of insult and swearing off his name, just to make sure no one catches on to… whatever they could have had.

In the end, he knows it’s a waste of time either way. Whatever he wrote, Jeong Jeong would never see it. Piandao doesn’t really want to talk to anyone else besides him.

TEN YEARS AFTER THE BEGINNING

A shadow crosses Piandao’s face as he paints. He glances up, having to squint against the sunrise, and spies Jeong Jeong as he slinks across the courtyard. Quiet as an embermouse, he walks across the yard and climbs on top of one of the many decorative stones. He has to use his hands to pull his legs into the lotus position now - funny how a few years of luxury can steal away one’s flexibility so quickly. All the same, he knows that if Jeong Jeong wanted to be unnoticed then he wouldn’t have noticed him.

Piandao smiles and returns his gaze to his paper, dipping the brush back into the paint tin. The last few years have been good to him and, dare he say it, good to Jeong Jeong as well. There’s a pleasant fullness to both of their cheeks and stomachs. New wrinkles form at the corner of their eyes and mouths, and as much as Jeong Jeong denies it, Piandao knows their origins come from smiling.

Jeong Jeong has never been an extroverted soul, has never yearned to be the life of the party. His years on the run certainly didn’t help that facet of him, but over the years he’s gotten friendlier again, more willing to socialize when unexpected guests pop by their house. Sometimes they ask for Piandao to train them, sometimes they ask for Jeong Jeong.

It’s more than Piandao deserves; this dream-like life that he’s gotten used to. He spent so long trying to prove himself to others, doing unspeakable things to earn the respect of horrible people, to prove himself as a man and as a non-bender in a red-hot, burning world. When he realized that he would never get that approval, he was angry and then relieved, suddenly free of the delusions he once carried, and ashamed that he sought such acceptance. For years he wondered how he would make amends with the world; if he would ever find peace. Now, it seems as if he has.

He finishes his painting before Jeong Jeong finishes his morning meditations - the first of many in a day - and sets weights on the edges of the paper to ensure it remains flat enough to dry. Piandao rises to his feet, a little slower than he might have a few years previous and makes his way to the kitchen to assemble a tray of tea.

He had long dismissed any additional help around the house, and Jeong Jeong’s arrival after the war, suddenly allowed to return to the country but with nowhere else to go, certainly did not encourage Piandao to hire any assistance. He loads a tray with cups, a small teapot of tepid water, and a bowl of dried tea leaves on the side. No need to waste time boiling water here or letting the leaves over steep, he thinks, as he throws a few milk buns onto the tray as well.

He’s careful as he walks back to the courtyard, trying to be as quiet as possible as he approaches Jeong Jeong on his rock. His eyes are closed and he faces the sun, looking so calm that for a moment he almost reminds Piandao of a cat or perhaps a lizard, basking. Piandao places the wooden tray on the ground, earning a slight scowl from Jeong Jeong from the noise, before leaving to retrieve some cushions to sit on. By the time he returns, he sees Jeong Jeong sliding off the rock, landing on the ground with grace.

Jeong Jeong warms the tea for them before adding the leaves to the pot. They sit in silence while they wait, something that once scared Piandao - the silence that draped Jeong Jeong like a wet cloth. It didn’t cling to him so much as he dragged it around with him like a weight. For so long Jeong Jeong demanded silence, refused to have anything that even resembled a polite conversation with Piandao. It was hard to tell if it was the last remnants of shame that built the wall between them or if that was just what Jeong Jeong had grown used to. Despite many of the White Lotus viewing the battle of Ba Sing See as a chance of redemption, they quickly realized even if the war was over, peace would not just fall into their laps, and forgiveness wasn’t as easy to find as they hoped. Piandao often wondered how many battles would he have to win for peace, to make up for the battles he fought in the name of the war.

He knew that Jeong Jeong struggled with it too, viewed his welcoming back to the Fire Nation almost as a testament to the fact that he didn’t atone. Even now, basking in the morning sun, Piandao knew that Jeong Jeong often thought of what else he could have done to make amends.

On the other hand, Piandao doesn’t pretend that a good portion of Jeong Jeong’s behaviour is just who he is. He was never ‘nice’ although Piandao knows that he always wanted to be kind. He never quite enjoyed being social nor did he ever yearn to amongst others. The years he spent on the run, surrounded by people who presented his privacy and space and didn’t push him on matters that he didn’t want to discuss, certainly didn’t help him in this regard.

Piandao pours their cups of tea and passes on to Jeong Jeong, smiling when he takes a deep breath of the aromatic steam. He tears off a piece of bread and hands it to his lover, feeling warm fingertips brush against his own as Jeong Jeong takes it from him. Jeong Jeong mumbles a soft thank you , a more recent development after years of Piandao chiding him about table manners.

Piandao can’t help himself, reaching a hand across to softly comb through Jeong Jeong’s hair, white and so much softer in their gentle years together. Jeong Jeong lets out a little huff, but takes a sip of his tea, instead of trying to shove Piandao’s handoff.

“I’ll stop focusing on your hair once mine matches,” he jokes, earning a glare from the grouchy man. His hair is only starting to get flecks of silver, his beard only having a few specks of salt and pepper. It’s almost exciting, growing old with a loved one when a few years ago the thought seemed so alien. Plus, he thinks, it gives him ample ammo to tease Jeong Jeong, who’s been grey since long before the war ended. He retracts his hand, letting it glide gently across Jeong Jeong’s roughened face, before returning to his own steaming cup.

The morning is still young when they finish their drinks, though they sit and bask in the warmth for a while longer before getting up. Their pace is languid, the conversation easy, as they return to the house to start their days. There are chores to do, errands to run, but neither of them is aching to get started on them at the moment. Age has brought a comfort and appreciation for languidity that they've never had before. There’s no need to rush, they know, when the day’s just begun.

#m #pianjeong #piandao #jeong jeong #atla #atla fic #my fic #lmao i forgot to post it here and was like ; ~; commints??

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chidoroki · 3 years

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In Defense of TPN S2

Okay, so before y’all start throwing your salt shakers at me, let me explain. Yes, I’m just as upset and annoyed with how the second season decided to cut out so much content that us manga readers were finally hoping to see: no Yuugo, Goldy Pond arc or GP Resistance, Lucas or Glory Bell escapees, Adam, poachers, or Cuvitidala Search. Since this season also (sort of) reached the 2047 time skip, we were also denied of the Paradise Hideout, Jin, Hayato, Ayshe, the Seven Walls & Imperial Capital Battle arcs and Alex due to the anime’s so-called “original story” idea. While some manga events still took place (B06-32 getting blown up, the trio’s reunion, Norman’s time at Lambda, the cursed blood and the Grace Field raid), they were all significantly changed and barely held the same emotional impact, as we see very little to no build up to these moments. Several volumes were skipped completely and despite others being touched lightly, we unfortunately missed out on major character development for everyone, most notably for Emma, but also the lighter side of things such as chef Ray, medic Anna, Rossi learning morse code, Minerva!Norman, etc. There’s honestly so much of the main story to talk about and I totally understand why we’re all so ticked off, especially since that darn slideshow did absolutely nothing to calm our hearts at the end of ep11.

However.. I’m not gonna stand by and say this season was worthless. Highly disappointing given everything I just mentioned of course, I get it, so don’t curse me out just yet. People can trash talk it all they want and I’ll sympathize 110%, but I personally won’t do so. I love this series too much and that’s a huge reason as to why I didn’t drop this season. Usually whenever I start a new series, it’s because I become interested in a character or two. I find that no matter what happens in that series, whether the story intrigues me or not, I’ll continue it if only to see more of that character. If the story is good, it’s just another plus for me to stay addicted, so while this season totally missed their chance to adapt the wonderful source material of my favorite series, I stayed to watch Emma, Ray and all the other children I’ve grown to love over the past two years. Another reason why I stayed on this train wreck was because of how thought provoking it became as turned into yet another guessing game for me. After first watching the OP and even more after ep3 aired, I kept wondering what would they include or leave out. How would they handle this scene if this and that were already changed? How would they fix this problem if so and so isn’t here? It felt like I was watching season one blind all over again; seeing all these little clues sprinkled everywhere and yet not having any idea on how the story was going to continue or end got me excited. That’s why I came to love this story in the first place, so having the chance to feel that again alongside characters I love so dearly.. it was fun for me (until the slideshow punched me in the face). While many people will look at this season and declare the manga and first season are both superior (which they are, I agree), I’m still sitting over here like “oh look, more content!”

With all that nonsense out of the way, I thought I would go ahead and ramble about everything I believe the second season did well enough, because if I can take any heat off this adaptation then you’re damn right I’m gonna try. So if you’re wondering why on earth a manga reader even mildly enjoyed this season, it’s honestly just the little things such as a decently adapted or improved panel/scene, any new, interesting elements the anime may have included, or other personal favorite moments of mine.. which there were a lot of.

So no negativity past here kiddos, we’re gonna be as optimistic and lively as an orange antenna.

(mild manga spoiler warning, I guess? but I’m sure it’s nothing y’all haven’t heard us readers mention/complain about already)

- If you’ve read any of my reactions to this season, you would know how much love I have for “Identity.” Not only is the song still an absolute banger, but the opening sequence itself is fantastic. From the contrast between human vs demon, the cameos, the symbolism, the match cuts, the build up to the chorus.. just everything. I could talk about it endlessly and watch it several times over and still be impressed.

- Lani’s stupid fall.

- How clearly it shows Emma’s condition becoming progressively worse.

- Her scream.

- Ray’s apology, especially how soft his voice was when saying “sorry, Emma,” and the smile he gives after she tells him not to worry about it.

- And his entire promise to keep everyone in their family safe. Oh I was so happy to finally hear him say that.

- This exchange between Don and Gilda.

- Rossi and those darn faces he gives us. This boy is such a mood.

- How involved the younger kids were so they don’t feel like they were just.. there, which served as a reminder that everyone from Grace Field is smart, not just Emma and Ray.

- How pretty the demon forest looked at night when all those odd creatures started glowing (even those darn goowee).

- So happy with how this panel was adapted. That smirk of his is everything.

- The fact they remembered a small detail such as the bell.

- Knowing now that they cut so much out of the manga, I’m glad we at least got the hug.

- The ending sequence gave us a small look at Sonja and Mujika’s travels by themselves. “Magic” is also so very calming to listen to.

- How the children hug both Emma and Ray, as manga only had our girl receiving the hugs.

- Sonju & Mujika’s voice actors fit them perfectly.

- How impressed Ray was when he first tried their cooking. No wonder he was so eager to learn how to cook.

- Sonju’s story about the demon world from ch46-47 practically adapted word for word.

- While the manga also shows us how frighted the duo is upon learning they’re living in the worst case scenario, it’s seeing them and their hands physically shake that help push this scene a little bit more (not that you can tell this by a still frame but trust me).

- Their synchronized smirks and how well their excitement was not only animated but how genuine and real it sounds too. Emma’s laugh and the fact they made Ray of all people sound hopeful is fantastic.

- They kept the small Ray from this panel and made him better.

- I just love seeing him be optimistic.

- The entire scene when Emma & Ray are both scolded by the younger kids for acting so recklessly is perfect.

- They kept this tiny comment of Nat’s.

- Finally getting chef Ray and hearing how confident he is with his cooking skills already.

- Seeing other children like Dominic pick up archery and be surprisingly good at it.

- Anime pushed Emma’s quick learning ability further with archery by showing us how easily she could land a bullseye even after hitting something midair.

- How well they animated Emma’s first kill, from following the arrow as she pulls it back to when she releases it as it flies towards the bird’s eye.

- The fact that this scene and the next both used a water droplet to symbolize death just like we saw during season one with Conny and Norman’s shipments are so satisfying.

- The gupna scene and how well it emphasized Emma’s reaction to taking a life and how upset/bothered she was in doing so. The addition of a butterfly helps as well, as it’s another way this series tends to convey the idea of death. (you remember how many the OP had, right? tons.)

- I only just noticed that Ray is seen looking at a similar butterfly in the following scene as well.

- The anime doing this panel justice. Ep2 is probably the episode that follows the manga the closest and did real well in regards to that.

- Ray beating Sonju at chess.

- Chris knowing exactly which way to go without using the compass, which makes sense as he was seen mapping out the surrounding area in the previous episode.

- The kid’s adorable little freak out.-

- Giving us a better idea on how large the reference room of the B06-32 shelter truly is.

- Finally being able to hear our boy Nat play the piano. The fact that his first song is named “Nat King Cool” as a possible reference to Nat King Cole is also great.

- Rossi being an accurate representation of the manga readers while watching this episode.

- Chris being his cute self.

- Seeing Ray’s sleeping face after the manga denied us so many times by hiding it.

- It’s.. close enough. We love our chef.

- I love the idea that Nat plays a couple songs before everyone goes to sleep. That’s so precious.

- SHE!! With her hair down!

- Rossi teasing Don and the fact that just mentioning Gilda is enough to scare him.

- It remembered that Gilda has a tendency to count all the children.

- The level of confidence Isabella has in her kids.

- Ray being oh so close to shooting a human with an arrow.

- This hug.

- Chris leading the group through the underground tunnels, which he also does in manga but we learn earlier in this ep it’s due to all the time he’s played down here.

- Because of his extensive knowledge of the shelter’s layout, Chris also guides everyone to one of the secret entrances to escape after he realizes the intruders are only stationed at the main two.

- Ray’s first demon kill is smooth as hell.

- Curse this scene for being so dark because that damn smile Isabella gives us is amazing.

- Since Andrew was cut, Chris and Dominic survive the aftermath of the shelter’s destruction without any injuries.

- Although we weren’t expecting to see their older 2047 selves this soon, they look good okay?

- The emotion in her voice throughout this entire scene (probably the closest we were ever gonna get to Emma doubting herself in ch109/114 too).

- Please just let me enjoy this moment when Ray noticed her negative thoughts and stepped in to help just as I expected.

- Vylk and that goofy smile of his.

- Watching the duo communicate without words during the chase through the demon town.

- Our girl clearing this jump effortlessly.

- Norman’s squishy cheeks.

- Ray’s slap could’ve been better, I know, but at this point I’m happy they still included it.

- The fact we can see Ray’s face during the reunion hug this time.

- And this hug.

- Remembering the small panel of Ray noticing Emma’s bluff.

- Finally hearing this conversation because both voice actors do a wonderful job with it and thankfully the dialogue is on par with the manga as well. Also that one moment when the shadow falls across Emma’s face like that.

- Gilda comforting Alicia after her nightmare.

- The scene is very dear to me so of course I appreciate every little panel we can get.

- How carefree Ray sounded with his “Nopes.”

- How I only realized just now that this panel was also adapted.

- Okay so who’s brilliant idea was it to have the sun rise towards the end of this conversation as Ray helps Emma regain her confidence? I just wanna personally thank them because it was a genius move and I’ll treasure it forever.

- They kept Barbara’s slip-up.

- Like our demon friends, I think the Lambda crew’s voices fit them rather well, although Zazie’s was totally unexpected, like dude you’re 5, why is your voice so low?

- Another “it could’ve been better but at least they included it” moment.

- Vincent’s smile here cracks me up and I don’t know why.

- Barbara’s anger.

- The short snippet we get of the ch126 conversation when the duo was visiting Chris.

- The table from Barbara’s outrage was never magically fixed like it was in manga, so we get this nice shot of Norman reflected in the broken surface.

- The trio’s conversation about the royals and cursed blood follows manga relatively well.

- Anime did this panel better, I’m sorry. Thank you for showing my girl getting angry.

- This frame of Ray.

- This comment of Norman’s that made me wanna slap him.

- How Norman’s face is constantly in the shadows during this scene, which is something his office at the Paradise hideout probably wouldn’t have given us, so hurray for this location instead.

- How he and Emma bicker over how many days their deal should last.

- When the camera shifts in and out of focus during Barbara’s seizure.

- How this scene hid Norman’s face until they revealed the demon the crew killed.

- It really is the small details that make me happy.

- This smile of Don’s.

- I’ll take all the hugs I can get.

- Emma and Gilda’s little headbutt.

- Why does my boy look so grown up and handsome here? Hello??

- I suppose I have to give credit for Peter’s voice actor too hm?

- Actually making Smee a bit more relevant.

- Since the fight against Legravalima was cut, this shot of Zazie is the closest we’re gonna get to seeing him without his paper bag, but it does improve on that one panel of him at the start of ch153.

- Seeing more of Norman’s time at Lambda as well as the aftermath of the explosion.

- While this scene pales in comparison to its manga counterpart, having the sun set behind him while Norman delivers his famous line was still a decent touch. It’s a nice contrast to the sunrise in ep6 and I enjoy it very much.

- Wild demons managing to somehow successful jump scare me not once, not twice, but three times in a single episode.

- Emma getting back up to protect her family despite her injury. (i mean, it’s no ch93 comeback but oh well)

- Ray getting in another decent shot at a demon.

- This face of his.

- Seeing just how quickly the drug causes the demons to degenerate and all the chaos it causes.

- Actually showing Norman attacking a demon rather than just saying he killed Yverk off panel in ch153.

- Hate me all you want but the anime did this panel better too.

- The ch153 discussion is more or less the same but the fact they added in Norman looking to Ray for help and just having him snap back instead was priceless.

- Sonju’s grin.

- The scene when Norman stops Zazie’s attack may only last like five seconds but it’s wonderfully animated and I find myself replaying it countless times.

- How to make the manga readers and anime-onlys panic with just one sentence:

- Isabella being clever as ever by leaking false info into the radio the escapees have to lure them back to Grace Field.

- I just think Emma looks so mature and pretty here?

- Had Norman actually apologize to the demons.. or was just about to anyways.

- Demon Emma is precious and must be protected.

- The adorable mixup between both Emmas.

- I haven’t a clue on where or how the kids managed to gather all the supplies to create several hot air balloons and explosives.. but they did, somehow, and I’m impressed because I’m assuming that all happened within a day.

- Ma’am, could you be any more smug?

- Simon! And he ends up surviving!

- Having Sonju fight alongside the Lambda crew.

- Which reminds me that this is possible since the Imperial Capital battle didn’t happen (yet, in this timeline), so the three of them never received their injuries from Legravalima either.

- The smoke bombs, only because I remembered how Sonju used them back in ep1 while rescuing Ray so it’s nice to see them being used again.

- Showing Norman actually use a bow and arrow this time. He also hits his target on the first try through a smokescreen.

- Ray having enough strength to knock out two demons with a simple metal pipe. In ch169 he’s seen holding down a grown man so yeah, I can believe this as well.

- Having Jemima, Yvette, Rossi & Mark disguises themselves as shipments in order to rally up the other Grace Field kids. Mark’s face and the noise he makes upon seeing Naila again is also precious.

- Peter actually falling for Vincent’s trap.

- Getting one young child to listen to you is hard enough, but Emma manages to get about 183 of them (yes I counted, give or take the four who also disguised themselves) to follow her orders in no time flat.

- Phil helping with the plan to lead all the children to the elevator.

- It made me nervous upon seeing it but they made the Day & Night ceiling real pretty.

- I knew the reunion was coming and still cried.

- Take all my hell yeahs.

- I could listen to her say this on repeat and be overjoyed every single time.

- She’s beauty, she’s grace, she’ll point at gun in your face.

- Getting to witness someone shoot at Peter since no one did so in the manga? Wonderful. Having that person be Isabella who literally lands a perfect shot not even a full second after he pulls out that disc? Perfection.

- Mujika and Vylk bringing in hundreds of civilian demons as reinforcements.

- James!

- Those real quick shots of the ancestors because I had given up on thinking we would’ve seen them at all since the Seven Walls arc was skipped.

- I’m actually surprised they kept his death in and it’s as harsh as the manga.

- Ray confronting Isabella with the addition of this line.

- This panel being animated along with Emma’s thoughts from ch177 towards Isabella even though that chapter’s major event didn’t happen.

- I certainly can not forget about this hug.

- At least anime!Emma told the boys her plan before reaching the door, or didn’t keep it a total secret? If not then I’ll praise the boys for accepting her crazy idea regardless.

- Boy, do you know how much I love you and your smirks?

- SHE. STAYS. ALIVE!!!

- Vincent and Norman’s little fist bump.

- Different but close enough. Still cute though.

- The amount of emotions this one shot makes me feel is limitless. Catch me crying tears of joy over it for the rest of my life.

- Having Phil not only getting the chance to see a train but to ride one as well.

- This pretty shot of Gilda.

- As well as this beautiful one with Emma and Mujika.

- They gave us older Phil. Not sure how much older but he’s still adorable.

- Lastly, the goddamn soundtrack! Of course we heard a bunch of the songs from season one, but the new ones such as “The Evil-Blooded Girl” and the Arabic version of “Isabella’s Lullaby” are absolutely fantastic. I still have to listen to full soundtrack but from what little bit I heard of such songs such as “Nat King Ballade,” “Crisis,” “Norman’s Lament,” and “The Temple Ruins,” I’m sure every track is an absolute joy. I’m so happy we had Obata back for this season.

And that’s the end of it, I guess? Of course it’s not a perfect list, as the majority of it was just personal favorites of mine but oh well. (this is just as long as ray’s birthday post too, oh lord)

I’m not gonna be one of those manga readers who continuously nag people to go read the original source material, because that’s annoying and I understand that some people just might not be up for it. They might watch a series, take it all in and then move on to the next one. Others might want to find out about every little detail and invest more time into the story. It’s totally fine to enjoy a series your own way and you shouldn’t feel pressured to continue something you’re only mildly interested in or feel bad that you love something others might despise. Just do whatever makes you happy. If you wanna check out the manga and see why us readers love it to pieces, then I promise it’s worth it, especially if you enjoyed the anime or wish to see more of any character.. or the entire story. If the manga ain’t for you, then I hope the anime did something for you. It definitely could have been better though, I can’t argue with that.

Whether you’re anime-only or manga reader, can we all still hope for a remake? This season had more flaws than any amount of praise I could give, but if years down the line we get the FMA: Brotherhood or Hellsing: Ultimate treatment where the next anime adaptation follows the manga perfectly, you know I’ll be all for it. I’m too deep in this TPN hole and I’ll probably never leave.

#the promised neverland #tpn anime #chidoroki used chatter #dont worry.. im still sad as hell about this adaptation.. this season just gave me a little excitement.. thats all #hey i re-watched this season so you wouldnt have to #..not like that says much considering ill probably go ahead and watch the dub too.. ah something is seriously wrong with me

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ko-fanatic · 3 years

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Blood, Guts and Chocolate Cake (Part 2)

Rating: Mature

Fandom: Danganronpa

Pairings: IshiMondo

Summary:

It seemed after the night before, Ishimaru was back to routine. The issue? Mondo wasn't previously aware of said routine.

TW: Alcohol, and eating disorders (both restrictive behaviours and B/P), mentions of disability, underage sex/sexualisation, drugs

Other parts: Part one

A/N: So, I reference a small headcanon of mine that Mondo has asthma. So fed up of it being seen as a "nerd" condition, so... The boi now has it. Not severe, but still.

Mondo made the executive decision to stay sleeping on the couch that night. Not that he was that bad off - the suite was VIP, after all, and the couch was comfy. he was a just bit miffed that, firstly, he had to do that in the first place because Mr Pretty Boy wanted to go clubbing, and secondly, there was a plush, California king sized bed in his room which was being tragically wasted. He hadn’t exactly had many chances to experience that sort of luxury, and he’d slept like the dead the past few nights.

Maybe that was a problem. Had he just not realised? Some “Ultimate Bodyguard”, if that was the case. Shit… Little asshole, making him question things and get all shaky and crap. It might’ve had very little to do with Ishimaru, in full honesty, but he was too tired to think it through clearly.

At least he did manage to get some sleep, despite being slightly cramped. He was over six feet tall, after all; not exactly made for sleeping on the couch. He’d even managed a rare, pleasant dream; dogs and cotton candy, Daiya’s obnoxious laugh and hanging with their friends in one of the many abandoned buildings they used as hangouts. They were such edgy little shits, but it wasn’t like anyone cared about the disused factories and crap.

He’d been reliving the time Takemichi got his tongue piercing stuck in his jumper (somehow, Mondo still didn’t know how the hell someone did that), when he awoke. It wasn’t some crash or anything, just the usual sounds of someone pottering around, getting ready for the day.

He groaned as he sat up, head pounding. He still felt exhausted, and he’d definitely drooled in his sleep. He turned to the window, and realised… It was still dark. Fucking really? After Mondo told him he wasn’t going out?

“Hold it right there,” He began, hoisting himself to his feet, doing his best not to fall straight over again, “I thought I said -”

Oh. He wasn’t wearing the tight jeans and such he was the night before.

Ishimaru raised an immaculate eyebrow at him from where he was tying his trainers. “Relax, I’m going for a run,” He huffed, “I might as well get on with my regular routine, since someone -”

“I’m gonna cut you off right there, kid,” He grumbled, stretching out his back and arms, “What time is it? Sun’s not even out yet…”

“Owada-san, it’s winter,” The kid sighed, a deadpan look on his face, “It’s about 5:15AM.”

It was a damn good job he wasn’t drinking anything - he would have choked on it. Who the fuck even wakes up at five in the fucking morning, let alone after being awake at midnight? Not to mention the clothes. Mondo was praying, if the kid really was going to work out in some way, it’d be in a gym. Heating, shelter from the elements, a bench he could probably catch some z’s on because it’s not like anywhere’s going to be busy at five in the morning -

“Now, if you excuse me, I’m late for my run,” Ishimaru waved off, going to open the door before Mondo reached above him, slamming it closed once more. For a guy who worked out pretty constantly, it was pretty effortless to overpower his grip. Eh, guess that what comes from having lithe muscle for aesthetics, rather than the bulky stuff for actual strength. Not to mention the lack of warning -

No, that shit could wait until later. Fucking focus, Mondo!

“You said routine… Have ya really been sneaking out every day?!” He demanded. He could’ve been a little softer about it, sure, but you have to understand; this wasn’t a good start to the job, especially if shit got out. Was he being overly paranoid? Yes. Did he not have a reason to be? He abso-fucking-lutely did!

“It’s not sneaking anywhere,” The idol groaned, sounding very much like the stereotypical teenager in that moment, “I’m an idol. As such, I have an intensive exercise routine to stay trim, not to mention fit enough to perform my high-energy choreography. I just don’t see the need to wake you and have an irritable tough guy around me, when I can easily complete my run without dragging you the whole five miles.”

Five fucking miles?!

Oh, today was going to suck. Today was going to kick his ass and run him over with a truck. All because an idol needed to “stay trim”. Fuck, if the kid was any trimmer, he doubted he’d have any skin left.

“Were the idols you guarded before babysat so extensively?” He kid questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“In all fairness, you’re the youngest client I’ve had,” He grumbled, scrubbing his hand over his tired eyes, “But kid, you’ve got to tell me when you run off. Don’t care what for. You being famous, and pretty, and so skinny… I wasn’t kidding about my worry last night. Celebrities get murdered… Or worse.”

“You think… I’m…” The kid shook his head, cheeks red, gaze staring holes into his trainers, “I understand. I don’t like it - it’s suffocating! But… I see the logic.”

Mondo smiled, turning back to his room. He had to find some clothes that passed as exercise gear…

---

Mondo knew someone had it out for him.

He was wheezing as he jogged, trying to keep pace with Mr Trim in front of him, but lagging behind somewhat pitifully. He had his inhaler in his bag - he wasn’t that much of a dumbass - but holy fuck if this wasn’t torture. He didn’t do track in middle school. He was more than content to work on his strength and brawling skill.

Speaking about things he was more than willing to do; laying down in the road, waiting for the next car to come along and end his misery, was getting far too attractive.

Conversely, Ishimaru was just about breaking a sweat, panting. His insides weren’t threatening to become his outsides like Mondo’s were. Kid either had a stomach of steel, or he was just a lot more used to this shit than Mondo was - namely, the extensive train travel and exercise.

Actually, considering the whole “Ultimate Idol” thing, it was most likely the latter.

That was when his legs noped out of the situation, sending him stumbling and falling. He didn’t cry out, per se, so much as let out a manly grunt of surprise.

Who was he fucking kidding? Ishimaru heard him through his headphones and blaring music.

“Owada -san!” He called, rushing to his side in an instant, “Are you hurt?! Can you speak?! What’s wrong?!”

Ugh, so loud.

“What’s wrong,” He grunted, “Is that someone is punishing me!”

Maybe a tad dramatic, but holy hell! Fuck five miles, it felt like he’d run a marathon.

“I don’t know if I royally pissed off someone up there -!”

He pointed an accusatory finger at the idol.

“Or someone down here! Like, sorry kid, but I give! Just doing my fucking job!”

Mondo watched the idol’s carefully cute and prim expression crack apart, his dignified (if far too loud) concern quickly falling into laughter and snorts. He had half a mind to be rather offended, but the carefully crafted exterior melting into those cute as hell snorts and chortling… That wasn’t even mentioning the look on the idol’s face. Pure fucking sunshine.

Could he not be a queer disaster for five fucking minutes?!

“You’re rather funny, Owada-san,” Ishimaru chuckled.

“Mondo.”

“Huh?” The idol barely breathed - lord above, give him strength - staring at him wide-eyed. Of course, that tends to be what happened when he let his tongue go before his brain.

“Ya can call me Mondo, none of that ‘Owada-san’ crap,” He grumbled, and he will eternally blame the heat in his cheeks on the marathon he was sure the other dragged him through.

“Oh! Well, in that case… You can call me Taka!” The kid - Taka, Goddamnit that’s cute - grinned. He was going to have to invest in those cheesy, stereotypical sunglasses if the kid was just going to unleash that megawatt smile on him without a shred of warning. Then, the kick to the crotch he really needed in that moment -

“Now, as you’ve caught your breath, we should keep going! Obviously such a long break isn’t ideal for cardio, but we can still -”

He just flopped down once more, groaning like a man dying.

“I said sorry, didn’t I?! Ya don’t need to keep punishing me! I fucking give!”

“Mondo,” Kiyotaka sighed, standing once more and looking at his FitBit, “Do you want to know how many miles of my morning run we’ve completed?”

“I don’t know, ten, you animal!”

He was sent a rather disapproving, levelling look. “Two,” Taka deadpanned, “We’ve got three miles to go.”

That truck Mondo mentioned? The one the day was going to run him over with?

Yeah, it reversed for another hit.

#danganronpa #dr talentswap #ishimondo #kiyotaka ishimaru #mondo oowada #idol!ishimaru #bodyguard!Mondo #blood guts and chocolate cake series

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zuzu-hotman · 4 years

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Ready To Love Pt.2 [[Zuko]]

Pairing: Zuko x Female!Reader

Warnings: More angst??? Dark-ish imagery?

A/N: Uh so I got asks for more??? I want you all to know most of my works are angst- but I live for good ends so dw (; I’ll link the first part after posting bc tungle is dumb. Anyways, probably gonna do a third cause there’s a bit more I want to do with this and I don’t want too much at once <3

Pt.1

“ Hᴇʏ, ᴡɪʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴅs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ʜᴏʟᴅ ʜᴇʀ ᴄʟᴏsᴇ?”

Seeing him again was like adding salt to deep wounds- rubbing the coarse grains deep into gashes, open and bleeding. You kind of hated that it hurt so bad- you were supposed to be over it. You were supposed to be completely done with him. With all remnants of him. His choice was clear- the truth was laid out bare for your eyes to see.

He was not who you thought he was. He was not the Zuko you knew in your mind- and maybe he never was.

No one who had once worn a kind smile could look like he did that day, right? There was no way someone like that could just... lose all sense of themselves? That look he held- the crazed fire in his eyes.. how those flames should have touched you- burned you. Perhaps Zuko was not as skilled as Azula. He didn’t bend the way she did, but that didn’t make him any less powerful. He had good aim- he knew you’d find it hard to even try to make an attack on him. He could’ve used that against you- it’s what Azula would have done.

You assumed that if he could so easily turn into Azula’s direction.. he’d be able to be as cruel as her. That he’d use your weakness to him against you. You felt the heat of his flames, you knew they could have scorched you. You weren’t that accustomed to fighting yet. For a long time you had suppressed your bending- scared of what it might bring you and what it meant for your future.

You came to regret that eventually. You could have told your parents- your Father could have shown you so much..

Fate was absolutely cruel- you firmly believed this now. She had no right to harm you like this- to drag you through the mud, already beaten down and tired.

She allowed him the chance to be in this group. You wanted to object, violently so. It wasn’t your place to though. Your personal ties to him had no place stopping him from teaching Aang about fire bending. The Avatar needed to know all four elements to bring balance. It was important to Aang’s journey and to putting an end to this long war.

That didn’t make you despise it any less. Hatred or anger- which was it you felt?

“Please talk to me..”

His quiet plea fell upon your ears in the dead of night, long after everyone else had retired to their own spaces. You had suspected he’d find his way to you soon- someway or somehow. With no one else around to bear witness. You hated how you froze in place- how all that anger just fizzled into nothing at the sound of him. So sad- so lonely. You were his only link to his former self, to who he should have become. A tiny string stuck on it’s last thin thread. You didn’t know that however. t’s not as if that was his only reason for reaching for you like this, and that you didn’t know of as well. You were in the dark on his feelings.

As you assumed you always had been.

“___, please..”, he whispers once more when he gets no response.

You make sure to keep your breathing even, to not move at all. Give him an inch and he’d probably take miles. Miles upon miles- stretch you until you break into tiny pieces. Yet some small pieces would still yearn- crave for what your brain told you not to.

You hear his breath hitch a bit, as if he’s fighting back overpowering emotions- him? The glorious crown prince who had slain the Avatar? The prince who turned a blind eye to you, to his good Uncle? The audacity- and yet you felt no actual anger. Not when he spoke.

“I- I’m so-- ___ I’m so sorry. I know that’s not enough. I know it will never be enough- I was wrong. I did everything so wrong and Uncle- I’m sure he hates me. I’m sure you do too. I never meant- I thought it was my destiny to.. to.. capture him. For my honor and my nation. I thought I was right and..”, he takes in a shaky breath. You’re glad you can’t see him. His face just might break you. “I hurt you. I hurt Uncle. I-I made you not trust me- I disappeared and I never responded to any of your letters- I still have them I- I don’t know.. I don’t have a reason or any excuse I just.. please. Please at least talk to me- say something! Anything! I’ve missed you- I was miserable- it’s not home.. not without you. I made mistakes even there I.. even she told me that I was wrong.. even..” and he trails off, gaining no response.

Little did he know he was close to getting one. She? He didn’t mean Azula.. he would have said her name. You hated how your chest burned- what mistakes could he make there? At home? No- not home. Not your home.

“...You’re sleeping.. I hope. I almost got loud. I’m..”, he sucks in a breath, “Okay. Another time.”

You choose to ignore the way he sniffs- knowing all too well it meant he’d shed tears. If you acknowledge it, you know what may happen. You know how it’d go- how weak you’d be. This isn’t how it should be, you should be able to ignore him without batting an eye. He should be able to just let you go. He’d already done so. What was the use in this? Hadn’t he decided already, who he was or at the least who you were to him?

Clearly nothing-

You let out a heavy breath, almost shudderingly so when you hear his footsteps fade away. You clench your eyes shut, banishing any trace of wetness from your eyes. No no no- you would not cry. Not again, and not anymore. Remember how he looked- remember those crazed eyes and harsh blasts of fire. Remember and hold it- no apology could fix it. Not so simply. It would take much more than words because.. you weren’t sure your aching heart could take much more of it..

Morning came quickly, with no remorse to any who had not slept in her absence. Specifically to you or Zuko. Luckily enough, you hid it well enough. Zuko? Not so much. Clearly he looked like he’d had a fitful sleep.

Hmph-

“Wow. I didn’t know it was possible for you to look even angrier than usual.”, Sokka pipes up, already at his usual antics of antagonizing the newest group member.

“Shut. Up.”, Zuko hisses in response, causing Aang and Toph to laugh a bit at his expense.

“You really should sleep. Set a good example for your new student.”

“I said shut up.”

“He is kinda right, you know.”, Toph adds in, “It’s not good to be up so late.”

Zuko freezes for a moment, but says nothing else. You’d almost forgotten- Toph was very attuned to the earth. Of course she’d know if anyone was up and moving. The only thing to question was if she’d heard him. At the time though, there would be no answer to it. He wouldn’t ask and she didn’t seem keen on pressing the issue. No one else was aware either. So it just faded into silence, not spoken of. It was replaced by Zuko barking at Aang that it was time to start his training.

“I lost my stuff.”, he says it so plainly. Uninvited and without any context.

“Wasn’t me.”

Zuko makes a face, “No I mean my bending- I don’t know I..”

You decide to tune him out, spacing away from his frustration and Katara’s laughter. Was he really that out of it? He suddenly couldn’t bend? What a load of garbage. If he expected you to feel bad, you didn’t. Not even the slightest. Serves him right for the look he gave you when he learned of your bending. When he saw the element of fire was not in you to control, but-

“___” , He speaks your name softly.

You look up to where he stands, a few feet away. You hadn’t noticed everyone else had already gone to bed. It was just you and him and the dwindling fire between you.

“I-”

“Goodnight.”, you say, starting to stand up, brushing your legs off.

“Wait-”, he gently grabs the sleeve of your shirt but you push his hand away.

“Don’t touch me.” You don’t look at him- you can’t. You must remain strong- don’t do what you did in Ba Sing Se. Don’t fall into that hole a second time..

“At least hear me out- get mad all you want. Scream at me- hit me I don’t care just-”

“I’m not going to do that. You made your bed. Lie in it.”

“I did, you’re right. I did and I’m so-”

“Don’t apologize. Teach Aang bending. I’m not a part of this- none of them know I knew you, which clearly I didn’t. I never did. I know you as this guy I bumped into in Ba Sing Se. This guy that I thought I was nice and had a good heart but I guess I misjudged. Maybe he just feels guilty or that apologizing to me might right his wrongs or whatever. If this is your way of getting them to trust you more, I’ll allow it. Anything to help Aang.”, you speak as calmly as you can. Not sparing a glance, “You already made your choices- you already let me go so just-”

“I don’t want to let you go though- I never wanted to. I just- I thought I was right. I thought that.. you’d come home. I thought that that was still home. I was wrong. I was so wrong-”

“Yet you still stayed, huh?”, you say, bitterly now, “You had a little life out there- you had your glory. Had the nation at your feet. The crown prince who slayed the-”

“I’m not that person! I never was!”

“You seemed to think you were! You acted the part! You were there for well over a month!”, you looked at him now, eyes burning, “You weren’t sorry enough to come back earlier! You didn’t think enough- you didn’t care enough! You were gone for three years! You never replied- I lost my Father! I lost what I thought was home and you weren’t there! I find you in Ba Sing Se- acting like no time had passed! Like we never grew apart! You talk to me like you still knew me, like you still cared! Yet you still chose to do what you did!”

He’d shrunk back a bit, shocked at the bass in your voice- how heavily it weighed on him. He didn’t know you felt all that. He had no idea..

“Your Father-?”

“Don’t.”, you hiss, quieting down, now aware you might have stirred the others from their sleep, “Don’t even. Don’t come to me with any apologies unless you really mean it- unless you’re ready to tell all you have to tell. I’m done with secrets and lies. Good night.”

You walk off now, leaving him to stand by the dying fire. His hand feels cold- his chest aches- your Father? That man he’d seen love you so happily- the home that was worn down but well loved? Gone? How had you suffered so without him even knowing- what had happened to you in his absence?

Why hadn’t he even thought of it?

How did he manage to screw up a screw up?

Zuko groaned to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose, “...what would Uncle have me do- what’s right..”

How to salvage this mess?

“Mʏ ᴍɪɴᴅ ɪs ᴀ sʜɪᴘᴡʀᴇᴄᴋs ғʟᴏᴏʀ..”

Pt.3

#zuko #zuko x reader #zuko x you #zuko fic #fire lord zuko #atla zuko #avatar the last airbender #ari writes #ready to love #oop #hi hiii

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twentiethcenturymoviesandtv · 3 years

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The Goonies: Genre and Themes

As with every film, The Goonies is a hodgepodge of elements borrowed from different genres: a series of intertwined different sets of expectations that the audience is to expect payoff on.

Usually, a movie gains an audience by appealing to fans of its genre, or genres, since, as I mentioned, most films contain more than one. Typically, by appealing to these fans with a combination of appropriate star power, the name of a good director, and a use of genre brings in an audience, who is familiar with these elements, knows what to expect, and wants to see more of it. Genre is best used as a series of audience expectations that a filmmaker has to fulfill, rather than a series of tropes that have to be checked off in interesting ways to make a good action film, or western, or horror.

The reason for this is simple: one, if you want an audience, don’t confuse them, don’t bore them, and don’t disappoint them, and that means meeting their expectations, or subtly adjusting them along the way.

So…what were the expectations for The Goonies?

At first, it might seem easiest to say that it’s an adventure film.

Which, it is.

The story for The Goonies follows a group of kids avoiding dangerous criminals while searching for buried treasure, encountering booby traps, raging waterfalls, and skeletons galore. It very much strikes in atmosphere and surroundings an Indiana Jones-style feeling of adventure, bringing to mind the opening of Raiders of the Lost Ark. However, while the Indiana Jones films, while possessing a slight comedic slant in several scenes, including action ones, the stakes in those films are typically much higher than the Goondocks, and as a result, it overall takes itself more seriously.

The Goonies is not a film spent with the audience at the edge of their seat, biting their nails in terror that one of the kids is going to be killed, or even seriously hurt. At no point does the audience believe that Chunk’s hand is actually going to be subjected to the blender, nor do they think that Data’s fall will kill him, or that the floor collapsing from under Mouth is going to lead to his untimely, unceremonious demise. The stakes are there, certainly, and the characters clearly believe they are in danger (rightfully), but the audience never has a heart-in-throat moment of: this is it for them.

Which is odd, because our villains are armed with guns, and the floor does collapse, and our heroes are in danger. They believe it, to the point where Brand pulls Mikey out of the cave, away from the loot, because their lives are more important than the treasure. The group bursts into hysterics when they think Data has fallen to his death, and Brand and Mouth don’t exactly handle seeing a skeleton, a reminder of their own mortality, trapped under one of One-Eyed Willy’s booby traps. Characters are held at gunpoint, swordpoint, are pushed off of planks, and are nearly crushed by falling rocks, and while, for the sake of the story, they are terrified for their own lives, the audience never really feels the danger.

We feel the danger for their sakes, certainly, but in the end, the audience is actually more concerned with whether or not Mikey and Co. are going to get the treasure to save the Goondocks than whether or not they’ll survive, because we know that already. We know, based on the tone and style of the film, that they have to make it, and be alright in the end. The stakes of the goal are high to the characters and the audience: the money for the Goondocks, but the stakes for the story aren’t quite as severe, seemingly.

Part of that is due to, like I said, the tone, which I’ll get to in a minute. But the other portion to assisting the audience’s suspension of disbelief has to do with the themes of the film.

See, themes aren’t only for in-depth films that contemplate the meaning of life. Themes are present in every film we watch, whether it’s a theme of anti-authoritarianism (Escape from New York, They Live), success through perseverance (Rocky), or as simple as love (Casablanca) or good vs. evil (Star Wars). Even if it’s not intentional, every movie carries with it the inherited worldview of its creators and what matters to them, especially as it concerns this particular story. The same is true for The Goonies.

At the center of The Goonies is, of course, a basic struggle of good vs. evil, albeit in far less ‘epic’ terms: a group of kids trying to save their homes versus murderous criminals, and worse, businessmen trying to uproot their homes and separate them, leading to the real major theme of the movie: friendship.

The Goonies don’t want to leave Astoria because they’re so terribly fond of their own driveways. It’s because they’re fond of each other. As much as they squabble and tease each other and argue, they are friends, and they don’t want to be separated. In fact, their friendship and love for their home is so strong that, even when their lives are endangered, they stick together, even where there are opportunities to turn back.

But as important as the friendship between the Goonies is, it’s not the only friendship in the film that’s key to the story.

Chunk’s bonding with Sloth not only saves their lives, but also provides a happy ending for Sloth, too. By the end of the film, Sloth is practically a Goonie himself, and the rest of the group embraces him without a second thought. The group functions almost like a large family: they don’t always get along, (in fact, they often don’t) but in the end, what matters is that they care about each other, enough to face some pretty intense stuff.

Which is another good point.

While friendship and good vs. evil factor easily into a good adventure movie, what’s interesting to note is that while Indiana Jones or any other average adventure hero has to go with it: tons of courage, and usually some competency to go along. The Goonies unfortunately only have the former, which makes sense. The average age of the lot of them is thirteen.

Bravery isn’t exactly uncommon to see in adventure films: nobody wants to watch a cowardly hero in a straight adventure film. But for the average hero, they have skills that help along the way, strength, speed, wits, intelligence, a specialized set of abilities. The Goonies, on the other hand?

They’re kids. The oldest among them are still high-schoolers. Their skills are limited: Data’s inventions, Mikey’s leadership and optimism, Mouth’s ability to translate Spanish, and Chunk’s timing all come in handy throughout the film, but it never changes the fact that they’re kids against three adults who won’t think twice about killing children. This changes their ‘courage’ somewhat into either some insane levels of idealism, or determination at the cost (sometimes) of common sense. Mikey has to be convinced to escape from the collapsing cave instead of going back to get the treasure.

So what does that tell us?

It tells us that their goal means something to them, that they care immensely about it, and that it’s worth the danger. Are they scared? Of course. But in that friendship, in that goal to defeat the evil of the Fratellis and the rich families about to bulldoze their houses, they find the courage to keep moving, to reach that goal.

In the end, the Goonies never beat the Fratellis. They get away, sure, but it’s Sloth and the police who have far more to do with the actual ‘defeat of’ the main villains of the film. After the Goonies escape, the prize of the movie seems to be their lives, with the Fratellis being left behind with the treasure. You could argue this means that the Goonies aren’t very brave, seeing as they never had a final ‘battle’, or climax with the Fratellis, but it’s important to remember that the Fratellis aren’t really the antagonist of the Goonies. They’re antagonists, for sure, but they aren’t the person who is causing the problem in the first place, kicking off the adventure. That would be Mr. Perkins, the guy trying to get them out of the Goondocks. As a result, while the Fratellis are apprehended by third-party law enforcement, the Goonies get to ‘defeat’ Mr. Perkins themselves, by having enough money to save their homes.

Is it ‘final battle’ level of epic climax? No. But again, they’re thirteen years old, and with that in mind, then staying one step ahead of hardened criminals, escaping, and saving their home anyway (all against adults more competent and powerful than they are) is plenty brave enough for me.

Both villains in this story have one thing in common: Greed. Greed has always been a pretty common theme in stories, and that extends to moviemaking too: The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, Wall Street, and Citizen Kane are films held in high regard that revolve around greed, and what it does to people. Other films like It’s a Wonderful Life take an even firmer, more obvious stance, pitting its protagonist against a cruel, greedy antagonist with no redeeming qualities. In short, we as audience members have a pretty good idea of what greediness looks like, and we know that we don’t like it. The Fratellis and Mr. Perkins are entirely motivated by money: Mr. Perkins can only think of the benefits to himself for tearing down the Goondocks, whereas the Fratellis, counterfeiters and thieves, are simply after the treasure for their own personal gain.

Now, of course, the Goonies are after it too, but you’ll notice something very important here.

Sure, the Goonies want the treasure. That’s the whole point. But the thing that prevents this from being an act of greed is obvious: ‘intent’. Mikey’s protests about wanting to go back and get the loot is not because Mikey was struck by sudden gold-fever or Dragon Sickness, it’s because he wants, more than anything, to save their home. It’s what they all want, in fact. They’re doing this for a good cause: for each other, not just themselves, to meet a need. None of the kids ever mention getting rich from this. They all have the same goal, and there are never any of the typical fights about how the treasure gets split, or what they’ll do with their share.

These themes all overlap very neatly into the film itself, though it seems a little odd to cut them up and lay them out like this, but there is one thing that ties it all together, albeit, probably without meaning to. I’ve mentioned the ages of the kids a few times: ranging from about thirteen to around sixteen or seventeen. There have been plenty of movies about kids, for kids, and about kids for adults, but The Goonies manages to straddle a line and become a movie about kids, for everyone.

Youth is a huge part of this movie. Adults do not find treasure maps and decide to go on an adventure in order to save their homes because the insane, idealistic, wide-eyed streak has already been burned out of them by life. They already know the rules of the world, and know that that’s not how that works. As such, the fact is, there’s no ‘Goonie’ storyline if the characters aren’t children. Kids are infinitely more emotionally attached to their homes at that age, and will do anything to stay together. Kids haven’t been told yet by the world that their hopes and dreams are unrealistic. They still believe they can do great things, like save the Goondocks.

Even throughout the rest of the film, you can’t replace these characters with adults. They cry, they scream, they panic, they fight and argue with each other, and they all remain friends, unquestionably, and the adventure molds around them, allowing them to continue to be children as the story progresses. The danger is real, but it never feels too big for them, or too small for everyone else.

So, what does that mean for genre?

None of this detracts from the fact that The Goonies is very much an adventure film. Early on, the expectations are set up for the audience: the opening car chase and the discovery of the map in Mikey’s attic immediately set up the idea that there is going to be an exciting, dangerous story ahead, full of unexpected, unusual circumstances. That’s exactly what we get.

While the audience may never feel outright danger for the characters’ lives, like I said, they do worry for the Goonies’ end goal, and there is certainly plenty of excitement along the way. That is, in fact, the emotion most felt by the audience throughout the film. The movie is a roller-coaster full of superficial danger without any real stakes, and plenty of heart-in-throat moments. The trek through the tunnels, Chunk’s run-ins with the Fratellis, meeting Sloth, finding the pirate ship: are all dips and climbs throughout the amusement park ride that is The Goonies. The audience is constantly on the edge of their seat, and almost every story beat is active payoff of that adventurous expectation.

But there’s more to this movie than just the thrills.

Part of the difficulty of developing an adventure film for kids is that you either have to put children in danger, or you run the risk of feeling too safe. Kid adventure movies of the ‘80s like E.T. the Extra Terrestrial utilized an even balance, but as I mentioned, there’s no real fear for the Goonies’ lives. This is for a rather specific reason:

The Goonies went for the laughs with the thrills.

Data falling through the cave floor? Terrifying. Data falling through the cave floor and being saved by his invention while the rest of the Goonies go into hysterics? Hilarious.

The Goonies going after the treasure? Exciting.

The Goonies letting the air out of Brand’s tires so he has to steal a little kid’s bicycle to go after them? A comedy highlight.

The Goonies being cornered by the Fratellis and forced to give up the treasure? Legitimately upsetting in the moment.

Mama Fratelli forcing Mouth to spit out the gobs of gold and pearls that he’s stashed in his mouth? Genuinely funny.

The movie is constantly playing that balance. No exciting moment is without it’s humorous side. The kids are in danger, but they’re also always reacting in humorous ways, like Mikey making a half-hearted joke when Andy’s trying to play the bone organ while the floor collapses. A lot of what people remember about this movie are the laughs, with good reason: there’s a ton of them.

The Goonies has no shortage of funny moments and humorous lines, again, some of the most quoted lines of the film happen to be the ones that made people laugh. But as I’ve said before: there’s a lot more to being a comedy than just being funny.

Comedy is a very broad umbrella, one of the genres most easily mixed with others to create a blend: such as, what would seem to be a comedy-adventure story. Comedies typically rely on either absurd, exaggerated, or humorous characters, or an absurd, exaggerated, humorous plot, such as in films like Coming to America or Ghostbusters.

So, how does The Goonies fit? The plot is exaggerated, for sure, but not exactly in an inherently humorous way.

There’s a very easy way to tell exactly what genre it is, between adventure and comedy, and I’ll show you right now:

Typically, a really good way to tell a film’s genre is to take a good look at the characters, especially the main protagonist, and the story beats. These elements best illustrate exactly what kind of story you have, and in the case of The Goonies, it’s fairly easy.

Like I said, the story for The Goonies is clearly exaggerated beyond the realm of belief. Kids don’t find treasure maps in their attics that lead them to pirate ships. However, the story isn’t played as ‘funny’, nearly ever. The skeletons and booby traps are played completely straight, with very little to laugh at. Indeed, in another movie, these booby traps may have actually hurt or killed a character.

In The Goonies however, while the plotline is a very straightforward ‘kids Indiana Jones’ adventure story, the characters are considerably more…colorful.

And funny.

Mikey’s mispronunciations and his bickering brother relationship with Brand, Andy’s hysteria, Data’s plucky mildly ‘nutty professor’ vibe, Chunk’s over-the-top reaction to his misadventures, Mouth’s…mouth, and Stef’s complete and total irritation with everyone around her lead to some hilarious interactions, and some genuinely funny characters in their own right. Everyone is quirky, and not just to give them more character, it’s also to get them to be funnier. They aren’t alone in this, either.

The Fratellis, although still remaining chief antagonists, are not without their own comedic slants as well. Their own bickering amongst themselves and the over-the-top levels of abuse that get doled out equally manage to keep them intimidating for the kids, but funny for the audience, enough that there’s never a point where they reach true ‘villain’ status.

With that combination in mind, the film actually manages to hit the comedy-adventure balance pretty evenly. The situation remains threatening, but the thing that actually prevents the audience from worrying are the characters themselves and how they are portrayed: as indestructible characters in a cartoon. They’re likeable enough to keep the audience invested, but humorous enough to keep the audience from fearing for them. It’s the ideal combination, and it works, with just a dash of something more:

Heart.

The Goonies is remembered for its humor and its adventure, but it’s also remembered for its heart. Brand hugging Mikey as they briefly connect over the fear and sadness of losing their home, Mikey’s inspiring speeches, ‘Goonies Never Say Die!’, Mouth’s passionate outburst about his dream, his wish, Sloth’s friendship with Chunk, even the ending, with Brand and Mikey’s dad proudly proclaiming that there will be no signing, with the kids watching the pirate ship sail into the sunset…it fills the audience with at least a little bit of warmth.

In the end, we care about the Goonies because the movie makes us care about them. They make us like them, and so we feel for their adventures. There’s a real, legitimate sense of family throughout it, down to the aggressive fighting to the make-up hugs that follow.

The Goonies is often considered a ‘family’ movie, something that may surprise viewers after hearing some of the language used by the kids, the corpses, and the fact that the kids are in legitimate danger at times, but in a way, it’s not very surprising that this is considered a family film.

The tempering of the action with the comedy certainly helps, but the real kicker to make sure that it’s considered a ‘family’ film is its focus: family. Friendship. The people you care about. Banding together against all odds.

Yes, the plot appeals to kids, and so do the characters, for obvious reasons: the characters are kids, with child-like goals. Adults typically don’t react so strongly to learning that they have to move, at least, not to the point of going treasure-hunting to prevent it. However, while kids can grasp what the Goonies are about, adults can too.

Adults remember what it’s like to be kids, to have those hopes and fears and dreams, and can get into it just as well. Family movies aren’t movies for kids, necessarily, but they are movies for families, that can be enjoyed by everyone, because everyone can relate to the story and characters. This means that family movies tend to be pretty basic, uncomplicated, full of what could be derogatorily called ‘false excitement’, with characters that are fairly static and simple, but with gripping emotional themes that everyone can get behind.

In the case of The Goonies?

It fits the bill every step of the way.

In the end, The Goonies is an adventure film, one that promises it’s audience excitement and pays off every minute, and a comedy film that promises laughs, and again, delivers, and in being both of those things, it’s also a family film, with both of those things, and lots of heart to go with it, to offer in spades to an entire family.

The result?

The Goonies is an exciting, charming, funny adventure film about kids who are charming, funny, and adventurous, leading to a perfect, consistent tonal blend that manages to stay with the movie from start to finish, creating a roller coaster, amusement-park ride of a film that has been loved, with good reason, by people of all ages since it was first released, entertaining families passing it down through generations for over thirty years, and will continue to entertain families for years to come, as long as kids continue to be kids, and adults can remember what being a kid is like.

Don’t forget to leave a comment, like, or some other form of love if you enjoyed this analysis, and please, follow for more articles like this! Thanks so much for reading, and I hope to see you in the next article.

#80s #1985 #Film #Movies #The Goonies #The Goonies 1985 #Adventure #Comedy #Family #PG #Sean Astin #Josh Brolin #Jeff Cohen #Corey Feldman #Kerri Green #Martha Plimpton #Ke Huy Quan #Richard Donner

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thewhumperinwhite · 3 years

Text

ATTD: The Monster in Will’s Pocket (2)

ATTD Masterlist

@whumpitywhumpwhump @favwhumpstuff

TW for: referenced animal death; very mild body horror elements; “it” used to refer to a sapient nonhuman creature; captivity/uneven power dynamics, though not... in the traditional sense.

Boy, I hope this is in any way coherent

----

“Wh—what in hells was that?” Jasper squawked, scrambling to his feet, squeezing his Runes very tightly, to keep one hand at least from shaking.

Will pointedly did not look at him. “I don’t think now is the right time to explain,” he said, with apparent relief.

Jasper gaped at the boy, open-mouthed, and then he saw movement out of the corner of his eye and remembered that there were still at least six full-grown wolves, out there in the dust, simply standing in a rough point formation and watching them.

Jasper tried to look at them, shielding his eyes from the dust, and then he growled in annoyance and squatted down on his heels, smacking his free hand flat on the ground, and circled his thumb around the blank side of his Runes, and with a grunt of effort pulled an eight-foot wall of dirt up out of the ground at a slight angle, between himself and the howling wind, big enough to shelter him and the boy from the worst of the swirling dust.

The boy stumbled back from the suddenly-erupting dirt, wide-eyed. Jasper remembered that Crythians did not, in general, trust magic, even at its most benign and useful.

Jasper had rather expected the show of magical skill—or at least the sudden noise and movement—to frighten the wolves away, but when he looked they were still there, just out of the shelter Jasper had made, the harsh wind tugging at their scraggly fur.

“Alright,” Jasper called in their direction. “What do you want?”

There was a long, perhaps thoughtful, pause, while all six wolves stared at him, unblinkingly. Then, to Jasper’s surprise, the largest of the wolves padded slowly forward.

The animal crouched, and twisted torturously in on itself, its front paw rising to touch its forehead, and seemed to pull itself apart, tearing the fur free from its face and revealing tender pink skin below.

The wolf gathered its fur around its new narrow shoulders like a cloak, and rose awkwardly on two long spindly legs. It turned its new pinkish face—still narrow and rather wolfish, but definitely human—toward the boy and his sword with an expression of resentful misery, and opened its too-wide mouth and said something, in what Jasper realized a second late was perfect fluent Crythian.

Jasper didn’t really know how to do anything in Crythian but swear. “What,” he snapped when Will didn’t immediately offer a translation, “What did she say?”

Will blinked at him with very wide eyes. Jasper felt a flash of reluctant sympathy. If the Firebird in the square was the first demon the boy had ever seen, he had certainly never seen one change forms before. Even Jasper hadn’t seen that more than a few times, and it was never a pleasant process to watch, especially in this direction. The boy shook his head, like a cat after a fall, and cleared his throat.

“It—she,” he croaked, his voice very rough, between the dust and his ongoing fever. “She says—that we have killed their leader. She wants to know if we are sorry.”

Jasper frowned down at the bent, emaciated form of the wolf. Its ill-health was all to visible, now that it was shaped like a human; and it was barely taller than Will, who only reached Jasper’s shoulder.

“I haven’t killed anybody,” Jasper told the wolf, on the off chance she could understand him.

Will coughed awkwardly. “Oh. No, that was me.”

Jasper turned to look at him. “You?” he said, flicking his gaze pointedly to where the boy’s hand was wrapped tightly around the hilt of his sword, “or something else?”

Will flushed blotchily, and looked away, apparently even more embarrassed at that question, whatever that might mean. The wolf-woman said something again in Crythian, her tone sharp.

“You’re a Galdrean wolf,” Jasper told her, rather sourly. “Don’t you speak any Galdrean?”

The wolf narrowed her eyes at him, and bared her teeth, which were somewhere between a wolf’s and a woman’s in sharpness.

“She wants to know what her pack is to do without a leader,” Will said, fidgeting. “She wants to know why I have taken him, and by what magic. She says—” The wolf woman barked something else and Will smiled at Jasper, nervously. “She has little patience for translation.”

“I would like to know what magic, too,” Jasper pointed out, raising an eyebrow, and the boy shook his head.

“I killed your Alpha by no magic,” he said, once in Galdrean, evidently for Jasper’s benefit, and then presumably again, in Crythian. The wolf-woman growled and gestured at his sword. The boy winced.

“Unless that second one was your leader,” he muttered, in Galdrean. “Then I—suppose there was magic involved, yes.”

“I’m sorry,” Jasper snapped. “Now you say you have killed more than one wolf. I seem to recall you running from them, rather.”

Will nodded. “I did run. I had no wish to kill.”

Jasper squared his shoulders and faced the wolf-woman. “Tell them so, then. And ask them if they make it a habit to chase down humans. Ask them if they know what humans will do to demons who do not run and hide from them.” Jasper would not cheer if the people in Atychia town gathered their torches and pitchforks and came for these wolves, but he would certainly not be surprised either.

Will obligingly babbled at the wolf in Crythian, and she spoke for a long time in reply, growing visibly more agitated, drawing her wolf-fur cloak about her shoulders so that her teeth elongated and her hands bent into half-claws.

Will blinked a few times at whatever she said, but made no move to translate.

“Well?” said Jasper, testily.

“She says…” Will hesitated. “I think she says the world is ending.”

“…Huh?” said Jasper, cleverly.

“She says the rains have not come, and they are starving. She says…” He pressed his lips together in apparent distress. “She says the human men have pushed too far into their lands, and they cannot hunt safely. That it is so all over, for too long. And… she says they’ll be sorry, that somebody will make them sorry, but—” He shook his head at Jasper. “I don’t know. When she started growing fangs it was hard to understand.”

Jasper narrowed his eyes at the wolf, who raised her chin defiantly.

“You… be… sorry,” she said in halting Galdrean, and then she worked her too-wide mouth and spat in the boy’s direction. Then she pointed a narrow bony finger in his direction and said something in Crythian, raising her voice and tone like she was laying a curse.

Most of it was sing-song gibberish to Jasper, though he could vaguely recognize the phrase “Wolf Killer” among the foreign syllables, and when she said it the boy flinched physically backward, as though slapped.

Then the wolf turned on her heel, drawing her cloak of torn-off fur back over her head, and had four legs again by the time he turned. The rest of her pack snapped their teeth half-heartedly, and turned to follow her, hunching their shoulders against the swirling dust.

As soon as they had moved what felt like a safe distance away, Jasper dropped his palm to the ground again, and pulled up two more walls of earth, to make a proper shelter against the sand-sharpened wind.

Will watched the last wolf’s tail swirl out of sight, and then sat down hard against the earthen wall with a shaky sigh.

“Oh no you don’t,” Jasper said, when he saw the boy’s eyelids fluttering. He crouched to snap his finger’s in front of Will’s face and the boy’s eyes blinked slowly back into focus. “You’re not going anywhere until you’ve explained what the hell that was.”

Will blinked at him a few times and then said airily, “What what was?”

Jasper gaped at him for a moment, and then jabbed a finger at the handle of the boy’s sword, twisted awkwardly beside his hip. “That,” Jasper said. “That thing with the teeth!”

Will looked at him with innocent blankness for a second, and then sighed, shoulders slumping, and ran a hand through his messily-cropped hair. “It was worth a try,” he muttered. Then he wrapped a hand carefully around the sword handle. “Chorus,” he said clearly. “I order you not to hurt him, but—come out and introduce yourself.”

Jasper stared, but nothing happened.

After a second, a muffled, petulant voice said faintly, “No.”

Will gave a mild little sigh, evidently not surprised, and then shrugged. “She doesn’t want to come out.”

Jasper weighed his extreme, destabilizing confusion against the pleasant idea of not seeing those teeth again. There must be a compromise between the two somewhere.

“That’s—that’s fine,” Jasper said, getting to his knees to be nearer the boy’s eye level. “How about you just—tell, instead of show.”

Will gave him a long, considering look—as if it wasn’t far too late to keep whatever monstrosity he happened to be carrying a secret. Then he reached down and pulled off his sword belt, laying the sheathed sword across his lap.

“This is—Chorus,” he said finally. The glass ball at the end of the sword’s handle glinted faintly red, even with the sun obscured by the storm.

“The sword. Is named Chorus,” Jasper said slowly.

“Yes. Well—no.” Will drew the sword from its sheath in one practiced motion, handling the weight of it easily, even in his weakened state. He held it up in front of his face, clearly comfortable with the balance. Despite the ridiculous silver curliques around the handle, the blade did in fact look very sharp.

“The sword is—a vessel, I suppose,” Will said. “And Chorus is what lives inside of it. You’ve met her, now. I imagine she’ll come out later, when it’s the most inconvenient.” He sighed, as if the idea of that monster suddenly appearing was nothing but a mild annoyance. “She’s very stubborn.”

Jasper stared at him again, trying to put any of that in order in his head.

“Who are you?” he finally said.

Will met his eyes, face very calm. “I’m no one. A farmer’s son.” He blinked once, then broke eye contact, sliding the sword easily back into its sheath. “I’ve been—tasked with finding Chorus a new home, somewhere where no one will trouble her. It’s very important—” He looked up again, catching Jasper’s eye with a very serious expression. “Listen. It’s very important that no one wields this sword but me.”

“Why?” Jasper said slowly, surprised by the clear urgency in the boy’s blue eyes.

“It just is,” Will said firmly. Then he took a deep breath and got to his feet. Jasper might have believed that he did so without too much effort, except that what little color had accumulated in his pale face immediately left it, and his hand was shaky against the rock wall from supporting too much of his weight.

“That’s why,” he said, blinking hard, probably to dispel the dizziness he was clearly feeling, “That’s why—"

Suddenly there was a flash of light and an eruption of silver from the area of his hip and he fell flat backwards with an undignified cry, very nearly banging his head against the earthen wall. A woman was now sitting on his chest.

“Ha,” the woman said in a high and taunting voice. “Got you.”

Will wheezed faintly.

Jasper, ears ringing, stared hard. The woman’s hair settled down her back in its large silver curls, and her eyes, when she turned back to give Jasper a half-hostile, half-curious stare, were a red so bright as to nearly glow against her milk-white skin. Her feet, and the good length of leg visible under her torn skirt, particularly with her knees planted on either side of the boy’s ribs, were bare.

“I’ve come out,” she said, “to tell you that you’re nosy.”

“Get off,” Will coughed, reaching up to push at the woman’s shoulder; she made no move to change locations.

“How much can you hear from inside that thing?” Jasper asked uneasily. He didn’t think he’d said anything out loud lately that he wanted left unheard, but the idea of this thing hearing his every word long before he knew it was there was making the back of his neck prickle.

“I have ears, Magician,” the woman-thing said, still looking at him over her shoulder from her position straddling the boy’s chest. Then she leaned over to look Will in the face, her nose bare inches above his. “And what was that about not giving me orders, Doorkeeper?” she snarled at him.

Will glared up at her. His arms were free at his sides, but he made no move to dislodge her. He didn’t seem to be flinching back from her touch, either. “I’d as soon you shed no more blood today, thanks,” he snapped.

The woman—Chorus—rolled her eyes and rolled off him to the side, not seeming to take much care about the insubstantiality of her skirts. “You were happy enough for me to shed blood a minute ago,” she said, rather snidely.

Will sat up, with some visible effort. “That was for—oh, never mind. Magician,” he huffed, gesturing at the woman now crouched beside him like a large scarlet-eyed cat, “this is Chorus. This is how she is, generally, so you must see why I cannot travel with you any longer.”

Jasper looked at Chorus. Chorus, curling her red lip into a sneer, looked at Jasper. Seated beside him, she looked about the same height as Will, though she was built more solidly, rounded where he was sharp and thin. Her face, though devilish in color, was almost cherubic in shape, with round cheeks, a neat button nose, and wide eyes lined with long, bluish lashes. There were strands of pale blue in her silver-white hair, too, and some that seemed fully translucent. Jasper had finished his schooling in the Wizard’s City more than a decade ago now, and spent five years with Mulciber’s Company after that, and never seen anything so entirely unnatural as this girl-creature, her lifted lip exposing a double row of packed-tight needle teeth.

Jasper sighed heavily, feeling certain, but also sort of stupid.

“No, boy,” he said firmly, “I do not see that.”

Will blinked at him. Chorus stretched her legs out in front of her and crossed them demurely at the ankles, with an expression of amused curiousity.

“What do you mean?” said Will.

“I mean, no, I don’t intend to send you traipsing back into the desert with nothing but a bleeding wound and a monster in your pocket.”

Will stared. He turned his head to look at Chorus, as though she might understand better. Chorus shrugged lazily.

Will looked back at Jasper, looking baffled. “Well—why not?”

“Come, boy, what do you take me for?” Jasper huffed. “You’ll not walk three miles in the state you’re in now, and I’ve no wish to spend the next few days wondering how long you took to die out there. No, I’m going to Limani, and you’re coming with me.”

“What?” said Will, alarmed. “No. Absolutely not. Weren’t you listening? The whole point was to get Chorus away from people. Why would we go back to the port city? That’s where we’ve come from.”

It’s where I’ve come from, too, Jasper thought, but didn’t say, since doubtless it would sound like he was going out of his way. Which he supposed he was, now, not that that mattered.

“Because otherwise,” Jasper said, as clearly as possible, “you will die, boy.”

Will blinked, a slightly odd look on his face, and then looked away. The creature Chorus’s red mouth turned down a little at the corners, too, which was interesting, though Jasper didn’t even bother guessing what it meant.

“You don’t know that,” Will said, rather hoarsely. “You said yourself that you aren’t a Healer.”

Jasper sighed, and looked from the boy to the monster. “Listen. Will,” he said, and then he nodded at Chorus, curtly. “This thing is under your control, is it?”

The creature leapt immediately to her feet, white hands balled into fists. Jasper held his breath, ready to get immediately savaged if he had read the situation wrong.

Chorus did not lunge at Jasper’s face, though she was practically vibrating with the desire to do so. Which would seem to imply that the boy’s earlier order—don’t hurt him—was one she could not choose to ignore.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said, and did not fall over with relief, which felt like a victory. He looked back down at the boy, who was still seated on the ground, presumably because he could not properly stand up. “But that control only lasts as long as you are the one holding the sword, doesn’t it?”

Will looked at him with open alarm, dropping his hand protectively to the hilt of the sword. Chorus, still standing, narrowed her red eyes.

“Boy,” Jasper said, “I could knock you over with a feather. Anyone who wanted to take that sword from you wouldn’t have to do anything more than push you down. Would they?”

Will’s shoulders tightened visibly, and his face hardened; it was easy for Jasper to imagine he knew how to use that sword quite well—when he wasn’t dying of fever, anyway.

“Relax,” Jasper said, holding up empty hands (his Runes stored safely in his sleeve). “I have absolutely no interest in stealing your pet monster.”

At the sound of the word “pet,” Will frowned deeply, and might have protested. He was saved the trouble by Chorus, who gaped at Jasper in outrage, and then made a sound in her throat—more than a growl, though not quite a roar, that made Jasper stumble physically back from her, despite all efforts to the contrary, so quickly that he hit his head on his own magic-built shelter, hard enough to briefly see stars.

#all those that dance #fantasy whump #worldbuilding #animal attack #illness #feverish whumpee #on the run #surprise jasper. you thought you signed up to help One disaster teenager. THERE ARE TWO #monster girl #you know????#hnng i will edit this later. this one really fought me and i am Very tired of looking at it now lmao #original whump

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thestupidhelmet · 3 years

Note

What would you say are the core personalities of the six? I don't know if you've made a meta about this already since I'm fairly new here. Love your blog!

Thank you! 😊

I’ve written a few metas on the characters’ personalities or characterizations. But I’ll write up what I interpret their consistent core characterizations to be. First, a preamble.

Unfortunately, That ‘70s Show’s writers had a tendency to forget, ignore, or outright change the characters’ core characterizations, too often introducing new elements -- to serve plot -- that conflict with earlier established personality traits confirmed and reconfirmed by many episodes that followed. This is different than character development, which is grounded often in incremental changes over several / many episodes or even seasons.

Most of these revisions of the characters’ core personalities are negative. Only one I can think of is positive: Hyde’s in “Prom Night” (1x19). The core of his character gets a complete overhaul once his role as Eric’s villainous foil and rival for Donna’s affection is over.

Because of the show’s inconsistent writing, one can pick and choose which consistently depicted attributes are the truly canon parts of a character’s personality. Later in the series, these consistently depicted attributes often conflict. When I write fanfic and @those70scomics, I depicts the characters according to what I believe are their core personalities. Other people can reasonably view their core personalities differently.

Now to answer your question.

Fez

He’s insecure about fitting in with his group of friends and among Americans in general. This insecurity sometimes manifests as neediness with friends and girlfriends alike.

He’s loyal to his friends and generally caring. He doesn’t like hurting their feelings. He’s in touch with his emotions and sensitive, which means he can be hurt rather easily by his friends’ or others’ thoughtless remarks toward him -- or hurt by what he misinterprets as an insult (e.g., Hyde telling Fez he needs to act aloof to attract women, and Fez believing Hyde is calling him “a loof,” which Fez apparently thinks is a put-down).

He’s not defenseless, however. He’s got a quick wit and comes back with cutting remarks of his own or simply cuts off his friends with his catchphrase and its varieties (i.e. “Good day. ... I said good day!”)

He’s passionate, but this passion variously paired with his insecurity, neediness, and sensitivity can cloud his judgement, which causes him to go too far in many areas: dirty jokes, masturbation, pursuit of unavailable girls, eating candy, etc.

He suffers from Nice Guy syndrome with Jackie during seasons 2 and 3. This means he has a sense of entitlement to Jackie’s romantic and sexual affection, and his respectful treatment of her is predicated on the expectation of romantic and sexual reward. Once he realizes that she’ll never reciprocate his romantic feelings, his respectful treatment of her diminishes greatly.

In season one, he’s depicted as insightful to other people’s feelings and motivations. In seasons 1-4, he’s also depicted as romantic and a romantic. He’s a serial monogamist, but he suffers somewhat from toxic masculinity (e.g., calling Jackie little girl when he believes she’s overstepped her bounds) and sexism (e.g., often calling girls whores; once this insult is prompted by a girl who does not put out sexually, which is the opposite of the meaning of whore). With Rhonda, though, this toxic masculinity and sexism seem not to be evident.

He longs for intimacy, whether platonic (men) or romantic (women). See this meta about how the show writes Fez and Kelso’s relationship as near-romantic in later seasons while also (re)affirming Fez and Kelso’s canonical straightness to keep T7S’s universe a heteronormative one.

Fez is obsessed with losing his virginity, but for the first four seasons of the show, the depiction of this obsession falls in line with that of many teenage boys his age. It’s not out of the ordinary. Eric is shown to have the same obsession until he and Donna finally have sex. Further, Fez’s obsession is not so all-encompassing that he can’t put it aside for love. He does so for his love of Rhonda -- until “Everybody Loves Casey” (4x26), where the best parts of his core characterization are destroyed. See my meta The Deterioration of Fez’s Character for details.

My Take: I prefer to write the insightful, loyal Fez who sometimes doesn’t know how far to push a joke. He can be insecure, but he’s also got a strong moral center and sense of what’s right and wrong -- or develops this sense more thoroughly during a given story. He’s flawed but very capable of growing and changing due to his ability to examine his own behavior and love for his friends.

Kelso

In season one, Kelso is a math and tech prodigy who has little common sense and or will power. He’s also loyal to Eric and Hyde and clearly loves them, but his impulsivity and addiction to sexual pleasure drive him to act thoughtlessly. He displays a sense of entitlement but not a pathological one. He’s capable of apologizing for his thoughtless and entitled behavior. See this meta about “Ski Trip” (1x13) for an in depth analysis of Kelso’s behavior during that episode.

After season 1, his math and technology knowledge is gonet. His selfishness and sense of entitlement overshadow his loyalty to anyone (or anything) other than fulfilling his own needs and desires. His lack of common sense becomes cartoonish. He acts maliciously when he feels slighted, which happens when he doesn’t get what he believes he’s entitled to. He relentlessly pesters Jackie verbally and physically for sex when she just wants to sleep. He’s pathologically narcissistic, vain, and dishonest.

During the end of season 3 and beginning of season 4, however, he begins to grow and change. He experiences and express remorse toward Jackie for treating her so badly -- without any expectation of return. His selfishness fades significantly, as does his lying, but neither attribute disappears completely. He’s capable of putting his own wants and desires aside for Jackie’s, but she sometimes has to assert herself more than once for him to do so.

During the end of season 4, unfortunately, he not only reverts back to type, he also becomes worse. He rescinds his remorse and gives Jackie the responsibility for his cheating. He speaks misogynistically about women and her, and is just generally awful. See my metas Jackie Kissing Todd “the Cheese Guy” and Kelso’s Reaction and False Equivalency: Kelso’s “Most Romantic Gesture” Toward Jackie for further analysis.

In season 5, Kelso reaches the peak of his self-entitled narcissism, selfishness, hypocrisy, and possessiveness over Jackie. He interprets Jackie dating Hyde as an act of betrayal and an attack on his pride and self-esteem. He seeks out revenge on both of them, even while trying to “win Jackie back” with the same kind of maliciousness he shows Jackie in season 2 when she doesn’t forgive his cheating within a week of her discovering it.

Throughout the series, he makes unwanted sexual advances toward Donna. He tries to grope her breast repeatedly while she sleeps. He tries to sneak a glimpse of her breasts while she changes, and she’s so sick of his whining that she gives into what he wants (in “Class Picture” [4x20]). The writers intended this scene to be funny, but it’s actually horrific and parallels Jackie’s complaints about Kelso pawing at her and whining relentlessly for sex that she gives in so she can sleep.

He makes these numerous sexual advances on Donna when she’s in a relationship with Eric and when she and Eric are broken up. Yet he when he and Jackie are no longer together, he acts like Hyde has committed a crime against him for being in a consensual relationship with Jackie.

Without Ashton’s comedic timing and likability, Kelso would be unbearable to watch during seasons 1-5. Kelso is funny only because of Ashton’s performance.

But in season 6, Kelso gets another chance at a true character growth arc. He fights his selfish, cowardly tendencies to have a place in Brooke’s life and their child’s (whom hasn’t been born yet). He works hard to prove his ability to be a good father. and himself worthy of Brooke’s love. Even more, he makes an act of utter unselfishness and sacrifice by letting Brooke and their baby go -- to live Chicago with Brooke’s mom -- because that’s what’s best for them, not him.

That being said, he still demonstrates an amount of selfishness toward his friends.

Season 7 again drops him back to status quo -- almost. Brooke is gone. He’s barely involved in his child’s life. He dates Hyde’s newfound sister, in part to burn Hyde. But at least he treats Angie with respect and is faithful to her, as far as we’re shown. So that part of his growth from season 6 stuck.

Throughout all the seasons, he’s shown to have a vast imagination. He fancies himself an inventor or an astronaut. He comes up with some wild -- and some might say insane -- ideas. He’s creative despite not being very skilled.

My Take: I generally write Kelso as a selfish, self-entitled narcissist because of when my T7S fics take place in the series. I also use his lack of common sense as comic relief. But I prefer the Kelso capable of growth and change, the one who is willing to put his own needs and desires aside for the benefit of other people. This latter characterization development has continued in @those70scomics, and I’ve given him major growth arcs in my stories Reflections Through the Glass, Beneath a Shattered Sky, and Those Who Play with Demons (which I have yet to finish writing).

Eric

Eric has a compassionate heart. He cares about his family, his friends, and people in general. But he also suffers deep insecurities about his masculinity thanks to Red’s treatment of him. Eric is more in touch with his emotions, like his mother, and Red has trouble relating to him. Red also worries Eric might be too emotionally vulnerable to survive the real world, which is why he’s so hard on him (see “Hunting” [2x13]).

Because of modeling his dad gives him on masculinity, the clear messages that Eric isn’t masculine enough, and what he absorbs from observing how society expects men to behave, he suffers from bouts of chauvinism. Donna.is regularly the recipient of Eric’s insecurities about his manliness. He often feels threatened by her self-confidence, athletic ability, intelligence, etc. -- because she’s a woman and his best friend / girlfriend / fiancée. He falsely believes her strengths highlight his weaknesses as a man.

But he’s also patient and unselfish with Donna, putting aside his own sexual desires for her need to go slowly or for celibacy (in season 6). He’s supportive of her and all his family and friends, including Laurie and Jackie -- both of whom he has an antagonistic relationship with. He’s very loyal to his friends.

Eric uses sarcasm and his quick wit as defense mechanisms. Some might say he’s a little stunted in his growth due to his continued enjoyment of playing with action figures. He indulges at times in his mom’s infantilizing of him while also trying to assert his adulthood.

He has a specific vision for his future: marrying Donna and having a family with her. This vision, however, does not include a career. He doesn’t seem to be passionate about much else besides his relationship with Donna (and having sex with her) and Star Wars. This is a failing of the writers. Eric’s storylines are so Donna-focused that the show gives little space for what else he might be passionate about.

Eric is very much capable of recognizing, owning, and learning from his mistakes. He can be a total ass, but he eventually realizes his behavior and makes correction.

Donna

Donna is confident, athletic, intelligent, and a staunch defender of gender equality (when written consistently). She’s loyal to her friends. She often puts aside her own pride to protect Eric’s self-esteem. She gets angry at him almost only when he’s earned it. See In Defense of Donna (an essay in eight parts) for an in depth analysis on her relationship with Eric.

When she’s in severe emotional pain, she becomes self-destructive. Losing her relationship to Eric at the end of season 3 and her mom moving to California sends her into downward spiral. Earlier, we see this self-destructive trait in “Eric Gets Suspended” (2x09) when her parents pay little attention to her due to their obsession with the latest fads.

Her parents’ lack of boundaries with her -- exposing her to their marital troubles and making her a pawn in them, as well as not hiding their sexcapades from her -- create a strong sense of boundaries within her.

The state of her parents’ relationship often influences her confidence in her relationship with Eric. She’s afraid sex will destroy her relationship with Eric; but once her parents renew their wedding vows, she has faith enough that romantic relationships can last that she finally feels safe enough to have sex.

She strongly values her independence. She doesn’t want her life and prospects dictated or limited by her romantic relationship with Eric. She witnesses how her dad’s controlling chauvinism stifles her mom’s own independence and dreams for herself, and she refuses to let Eric’s insecurity and chauvinism do that to her.

She’s passionate about writing, both journalistic and fiction, as well as music. She’s playful and forgiving. She doesn’t fit the gender norms of the 1970s. She’s as comfortable playing basketball with the guys as she is decorating a room or gymnasium for an event. She has a mixture of femininity and masculinity, which only Jackie seems to insult her about.

Jackie

At her core, Jackie is a compassionate, generous, and insightful person. She gives far more gifts to Kelso during their relationship than he does her -- despite her always stating how much she wants presents. She gives Donna lots of advice and support during Donna and Eric’s transition from friends to lovers. She continues to give Donna advice and support throughout the series about her love life.

But Jackie can also be very controlling, insulting, and selfish. She’s quite vain, but she’s also insecure about all she acts secure about. See Does Jackie Become Less Insecure about Her Physical Appearance when She Dates Hyde? If So, Why?

Jackie has abandonment issues because of her parents. Her father isn’t home a lot and often shows his love for her through presents. The latter is why she wants / expects to get gifts from her boyfriend(s). She develops a marriage obsession out of wanting a guarantee she won’t be abandoned by her romantic partner, despite that marriage doesn’t actually guarantee this.

She also has a tendency toward self-delusion. She so needs Kelso to be whom she wants him to be that she goes into denial about his infidelity and all the negative qualities of his I described above. Eventually that delusion is broken, only to be replaced by delusions about Hyde. She transfers her feelings of (relationship-)safety from Kelso to Hyde.

Only when Kelso breaks her heart for the final time at the end of season 4 does she break out of this delusion cycle. She fantasizes about what her future with Hyde might be like, but that isn’t the same as deluding herself. Plus, Hyde consistently disabuses her of these unrealistic fantasies and offers her a much healthier and happier potential reality.

Once she’s with Hyde in season 5, she begins growing and changing significantly. Instead of complaining of her suffering as she does, for instance, during her S2-S3 break-up with Kelso, she hides the fact her mom has completely abandoned her after her dad goes to prison. She tells no one her mom hasn’t come home from Mexico.

This is not one of the healthier changes she makes in season 5, but fantasizing away her pain no longer works as a defense mechanism. Instead, she believes she has to face her struggles alone. Fortunately, Hyde discovers the truth and gives her a safe place and, in a very real way, becomes a literal safe place for her himself. (The writers screwed this up for the sake of a season-ending cliffhanger, but that’s beyond the scope of this meta.)

Jackie can be stubborn and determined. She wants what’s best for the people she loves, especially Hyde. She’s extremely forgiving. She doesn’t trust her ability to take care of herself, but she learns that she can (through getting a job, Hyde’s encouragement, her public access TV show, etc.)

She’s a complex character. When people don’t look beyond her surface, they find her easily dismissible. The writers too often wrote her this way during the series. But they also added many layers to her, as I’ve described in this meta.

Hyde

See the following metas I wrote about him:

Hyde’s Core Characterization Steven Hyde: Organic Character Development Steven Hyde: Inconsistent Characterization Hyde’s Character Shift from Season 4 to Season 5 Why Hyde Closes Himself Off More Emotionally in Season 5 Pathological Passive-Aggressiveness: A New Personality Trait Added to Hyde’s Character in Season 5 Hyde’s Potential Career

#That 70s Show #That '70s Show #Jackie x Hyde #Eric Forman #Michael Kelso #Ask #Anon #My Meta #My Essay #Meta #Essay #Core Characterization #Donna #Fez #Jackie #Hyde

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prettywordsyouleft · 4 years

Text

Forsaken | Part 9

Summary: As one of the Forsaken, Jinyoung had no right to covet anything as his own. When he stumbles across you standing in the middle of the village he had plundered, the memories of old make him risk it all, clutching at the past in hopes for a better future.

Pairing: Park Jinyoung x reader

Genre: warrior au / star crossed lovers / angst / romance

Warnings: death, kidnapping, cursing, a myriad of emotions - this is a really sad love story.

Index: Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

“I believe our plan has been compromised.”

Glancing at Mark in confusion, Jinyoung then grabbed the arm of his comrade and pushed him back into the seclusion of the forest boundary to the camp. Once satisfied that only the ears of birds and the Gods above could hear of them now, Jinyoung urged Mark to speak again.

“At our meeting last night, I felt we weren’t alone. I decided to look into things today.”

“You did signal for us that it didn’t feel right and we changed details out loud just to be safe,” Jinyoung mentioned, folding his arms across his chest. “What did you find to confirm your suspicion today?”

“Bugging materials.”

“Our own?” Mark nodded and Jinyoung cursed. “We have a spy within our camp then.”

This didn’t bode well with Jinyoung. He already struggled with endless concerns over you being so actively a part of this battalion. The men, whilst Jinyoung believe the majority wouldn’t cross paths with him knowing full well he would cut them down if they tried, weren’t all from the same background as he. Jinyoung had learned long ago that aside from the three men he had ridden out with from the beginning of his time in the Rebellion, not to trust anyone else.

Still, it frustrated him to know he had been housing and caring for someone who would betray him like this.

“One of the newer members?” Jinyoung suggested and Mark nodded.

“I’ll look into their backgrounds, see what the hunters have over their necks.”

It wasn’t the first time the Rebellion had placed a spy within his camp, trying to keep tabs on Jinyoung’s war efforts. Although it had irked him in the past, it had all been fruitless. He was an excellent leader, and whilst he knew of the harsher conditions in neighbouring settlements, he hardly felt that feeding his men well showed signs of betrayal to the overlord. If anything, well-fed men performed their tasks more willingly and Jinyoung was known for having one of the best plundering teams in the east.

Nothing had come forth from the findings by the spies in the past, and Jinyoung had believed nothing would fault him in the eyes of their Lord in the future either.

Until you came back into his world.

If the Rebellion learned of your existence, what would their actions be? Searching Mark’s grim expression, Jinyoung knew now there would be every reason to contest Jinyoung’s loyalty to those that they served.

Not that he gave a damn about that wretched loyalty now on the brink of escape.

Still, it sullied their plans. The group was almost about to embark on their departure and if someone was reporting that to the hunters then Jinyoung and his team wouldn’t get far. The reality of the dangers ahead of them were already stacking up as almost impossible to make it all out alive without having someone reporting their exact route south to the fishing boats to take away from this land. Now it would be practically impossible to leave this region if they didn’t think of a counteracting plan, and fast.

“You search the men, I’ll think of another way.”

“Onto it,” Mark announced, stealthily departing Jinyoung’s side. There, he leaned against a tree for some time, contemplating that of their fate.

He would still run. Even if there was only one percent chance of survival, Jinyoung was prepared to take it to get you out of this world.

“Why do you have to leave?”

Glancing up at Jinyoung’s subdued expression, you stopped packing clothes into your small suitcase. “I’m only going for a week.”

“Seven days without you sounds horrible.”

“Now who’s lovesick?” you mentioned with a coy smile, inwardly rejoicing over how much you meant to him. “My grandfather is ill and I have to spend some time with him before I cannot. Mother and I won’t be gone for long, and you can keep Papa company whilst I’m away.”

Jinyoung scowled at you before taking your hand. “If you’re gone, I can’t protect you.”

“As if you protect me now,” you retorted with a giggle, shaking your head loosely. “Why, if anything, it’s me protecting you!”

“Is that so?”

“I’ve kept you safe all these years, have I not?”

“Says the girl who falls out of trees, marches into the wintry depths of the lake when angry, and injures herself easily, all without a single care for her safety. Had I not been here, I doubt you’d have survived any of it.”

A radiant smile crossed your lips and stunned Jinyoung into awe, making you giggle once more at his evident affections for you. Leaning in to kiss his lips softly, you then whispered, “You’re truly my knight in shining armour, aren’t you.”

“I am, so how can I protect you if you’re not here?”

“Don’t worry,” you said, slipping the compass he had attempted to steal from you off of your neck and placed it around his instead. “This will guide you to me. If I’m am ever in trouble, you’ll know exactly where to find me.”

Watching you, oblivious to his current mood, Jinyoung couldn’t relax. He knew if he acted impulsively to protect you that would put you further into the limelight, and so he forced yet another smile onto his lips as you chatted to Youngjae about the best recipes to make with potatoes.

“Clearly a hearty stew is best,” Youngjae exclaimed and you rolled your eyes.

“The potato is hardly the element that makes a fine stew. That’s down to the meat you add into it. Baking a potato within its skin is superior.”

“And dry. Very dry.”

“Not with how I serve it up and you will be eating those words by the time I’ve put dinner in front of you tonight!”

“As long as we’re eating something, it shouldn’t matter how the potato is used, right Jinyoung?” Jackson attempted, nudging the man beside him for assistance.

Your eyes snapped up to Jinyoung’s, finally picking up on his presence in the kitchen. “Jinyoung will side with me.”

“I like a good stew,” Jinyoung announced, turning before your immediate glare reached him directly. “However, I’ve had Y/N’s infamous baked potatoes once.”

“Oh, you did! We ate them the day I came back from my grandfather’s house!”

“They truly were the best meal to have with you.”

“Youngjae, how about we leave the lovebirds to it? I think I might be put off our meal entirely if I’m subjected to the way their eyes glisten when staring at one another.”

“Surrounded by all these people and yet I’ve never felt so lonely in my life. Wherever our next stop is, may it be blessed with fine women.”

“Why, are Sally or Trudy not to your liking?” Jackson crooned as the door shut behind them.

You smiled softly. “You surely can’t remember the taste from all the way back then.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“But I do know you’re troubled,” you mentioned, looking up at him from the stack of potatoes you were brushing clean from any remaining soil. “You’re acting skills around me are just pitiful, I’ll have you know.”

“I guess I should have realised you weren’t as oblivious as I thought.”

“When my eyes and mind linger on you as long as they do? Honestly, you are a fool to think I wouldn’t pick up anything about you,” you teased and Jinyoung moved to your side, reaching for a potato and the brush Youngjae had discarded.

“You’re so sure about me.”

“Why? Are you not about me?”

Jinyoung chuckled. “Given what I have risked thus far and will continue to do, I don’t think that is fair to state.”

“Then why question my love for you?”

“We’re in the kitchen,” he warned and you shrugged.

“We’re all alone in the kitchen. Who will hear of me telling the man who owns my heart that I love him? The potatoes?”

“There are ears everywhere,” Jinyoung pointed out, guarding himself again. Scrubbing at the potato skin, he stopped when he realised his efforts had been too harsh, the skin rubbing off with the bristles.

“Jinyoung!” you cried in annoyance, taking the potato out of his hand. “Don’t you know how fragile the skin is with such force? You brute of a man!”

“I know all too well how fragile this world is.”

“I’m not fragile,” you corrected, holding out your healing wrist towards him. “See, you worried I wouldn’t do well with this. But I have. Look at how strong I am. I even wield swords and shoot arrows now. If anything, I make a finer match for you than I once did before.”

“I’m proud of how strong you’ve gotten,” he murmured, though his chest panged with the thought of how little you regarded the sheer dangers around you. Swallowing back his worries, Jinyoung picked up another potato, brushing at it gently now. “In two days, do you think you could go with Youngjae to collect his order?”

“Oh, he mentioned he had seeds to pick up from the nearby village for our trip. I can do that!”

“Good, you will be gone all day with Youngjae then.”

“I can handle that easily. A trip out sounds exciting! I’ll get to use my compass Papa gave me as well, to find my way back to you.”

Jinyoung nodded, kissing the side of your head gently. “You have to make sure you come back to me.”

“You’ll find me if I don’t,” you pointed out the compass hanging around his neck still and smiled. “I know you won’t ever lose me again.”

Jinyoung was ready for the hunting pack that turned up at the battalion. With your presence not found within the camp, there would be no need to judge that of his leadership skills.

Still, Jinyoung shared no returning smile at the older man now greeting him and Jaebum loudly. “Argo, it’s been some time.”

“And that of you my boy!”

“What brings you to our settlement?” Jaebum enquired as he gestured to the gypsy ladies to take Argo’s horse to the stables. “We don’t often see hunting dogs in our area.”

“I’m here to sniff out any troubles. You know the boss likes us to make sure everyone knows of their place.”

“What troubles may you be considering linger here? Men with full bellies?”

Argo laughed at Jaebum’s statement and clapped Jinyoung on the shoulder, leading him along through the side door into their settlement. The grip upon his shoulder was firm, more sinister than that of booming laugh that continued to sound around their grassy common area.

“Now, I hear of your hearts going soft with all that food you offer. I see you have taken in some servants since I was last here.”

“They make running the place easier. When we’re away slaughtering lives, we know we can come home and be served hot water for a bath and get fed right away.”

“I guess there is no harm in gaining under the name of the Rebellion.” Argo then stared at Jinyoung specifically as he stated, “So long as you remain loyal to our Lord.”

Clenching his hands at his side, Jinyoung then gestured to that of his men. “Show me where a disloyal human here stands and I’ll cut them down.”

“Even if that were of yourself? I heard some rumours that maybe you want to settle down and live a normal life.”

“With as much blood on my hands, how would that be possible?”

Jaebum stepped forward. “Don’t we all want that life? If there was a rumour started, maybe it was about me. I sure could do with a quieter lifestyle. Surely you as well Argo, could enjoy relaxing in your home without having to run about these lands as the Lord’s working dog.”

Argo nodded, his laugh not nearly as bold as before. “You’re quite right. But I know dogs can easily be put to sleep by their master’s if they disobey them. The same can go for any of you.”

“Duly noted.”

“Where is that of your shadow, Jinyoung? I don’t see Jackson anywhere.”

“He’s out on the boundary line keeping an eye on our perimeter. You can’t be too careful these days. You don’t know who or what will venture into a lion’s den.”

Argo chuckled darkly. “And I suppose you see yourself as a lion?”

“Far better than being a dog, don’t you think?” Jinyoung challenged, smirking even. “Unlike you, I’m not afraid to bite my master’s hand if he chooses to betray me.”

“I’ve seen all that I need to then. Keep well, comrades,” Argo announced, heading back out to his horse and his own battalion, the sound of hooves thundering along the track leaving Jinyoung uneasy even when he could no longer hear them.

Turning, he found Mark approaching him, dragging BamBam along by his collar. Yugyeom was dashing along at his side, trying to stop Mark with a pleading tone.

Once the young man was thrown at Jinyoung’s feet, the leader sighed. “So it was you.”

_________________

Part 10

[GOT7 Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist] | [Request Guidelines]

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tomokahiroshi · 3 years

Text

"Sure, I'll get going."

Moving to the exit, he waves.

"See you later then."

"Likewise, dear Captain."

The moment he's a good distance away, the woman snaps her finger and the sound echoes throughout the empty library.

"Coast clear."

And from a corner close by, a girl of green hair with glasses peeks out.

The Assistant Alchemist, Sucrose.

"Th- Thank you, this... this should be sufficient."

Humming, Lisa nods with a smile.

"Yes, dear, it should be."

What a day it is today.

It doesn't take long for the man to spot their Outrider at the entrance of their Headquarters, alongside the Honorary Knight.

"Yo."

Grinning slightly, he raises his hand in greeting.

"What's up?"

"There you are!"

Amber waves in response, while the Traveler by her side wordlessly nods in acknowledgement.

"We spotted something in Windrise today!"

"Oh? Is that so?"

The tanned man hums, folding his arms.

"Do tell me about it."

After a while of explaining, he decides to join the duo in taking a look at the odd "thing" they saw by the Statue of The Seven's side.

A doll-like creature, small and has the ability to levitate.

It's nothing like what they've ever seen before.

To make it more complicated, said creature also seems to have a will of its own and constantly dodges their attempts on getting a hold of it.

Their little game of chase goes on until dusk, only then did they lose track of the poor thing and decide to return to the Headquarters.

Throughout the duration of it, however, the man has to admit that it's rather entertaining.

And nostalgic, since he used to play that kind of game with...

`"Catch me if you can!"

"Challenge accepted!"`

The sound of their laughter in those distant days still ring clearly in his ears, echoes of a pleasant childhood he knows he doesn't deserve.

"Sheesh, it was so fast."

Amber huffs on their way back.

"And small too, which makes grabbing it all the more difficult."

"You can't blame it, really."

Paimon, the Honorary Knight's floating companion, comments.

"When some strangers just suddenly show up and try to get a hold of you, of course you run."

"That's right."

Kaeya hums, holding his chin in thought.

"Besides, I'm sure I at least managed to tell what kind of thing it was."

At this, the brunette turns to him immediately.

"You did? That's fast!"

"Of course."

Smirking, he continues.

"It's an elemental being, a wisp amongst Mondstadt's thousand winds."

And once again, a remark catches him off-guard.

"You're amazing, Sir Kaeya!"

The Outrider did not just-

"I'm glad we have you within the Knights' ranks!"

Oh Barbatos, his face must have looked so ridiculous that it caused both Amber herself and the Traveler to stare when they finally took notice of it.

"Kaeya?"

Paimon waves a hand in front of his eyes.

"Helloooo?"

Maybe his smile literally froze on his face, though.

"He's acting weird..."

Amber mumbles.

"Well, at least we're here now."

Indeed, they're currently standing just before the entrance of the Knights of Favonius' Headquarters.

The sky, painted in fiery orange of the setting sun, reminds the man of someone's eyes.

Orbs that shine with burning passion, an unrelenting desire to protect this land with everything this person has.

A tug on his sleeve brings him back to reality, looking to the side to find their Honorary Knight smiling up at him.

The third thing is...

Why is everyone suddenly so hard to read?

From the ones he met early morning to those he met in the late afternoon, they're all so...

Unpredictable.

And Amber beams at him, taking his right hand as the Traveler had his left.

Then they lead him inside together.

His heart skips a beat once the large doors open, revealing the rest of Ordo Favonius along with colorful decorations.

As well as a gigantic "Happy Birthday" hanging from the ceiling.

"Happy birthday, big bro Kaeya!!"

Klee comes jumping down from a hovering flower - Albedo's, he notes - and throws various cute-looking things, which he's sure are explosives.

Although when they do blow up, it's all confetti and glitter.

So this is why Jean agreed...

The two by his sides quickly let go of his hands as the small girl falls right into his arms, giggling.

"Yay!! The new formula worked!"

"Splendidly."

Lisa chuckles, snapping her fingers and the lights go out.

"Time for the cake."

At this, he sees a cart being pushed out by Noelle and candles illuminate the area.

On it lays a cake of three layers, each of a different color.

Ocean blue, ice blue and white, from top to bottom.

"Please make a wish, Sir Kaeya."

Along with the maid's smile, he makes out everyone else's in the dimly lit lobby.

Ah... a birthday wish.

Smiling back at them, he nods.

But what should he wish for, really?

They went through the trouble to organize a party for him right under his nose and it is rather impressive how they've managed, if he were to be honest.

He knows the birth date is always on one's profile when they apply for a job, but he didn't expect them to pay that any mind.

Especially when it's his.

He hadn't celebrated it in years, after that event took place.

...

He would be lying if he said there was nothing he wanted to wish for, though.

`"Happy birthday!"`

The image of a young boy, smiling brightly as he handed Kaeya a gift.

That had been the first time someone threw a birthday party for him.

Chuckling, the tanned man moves to blow the candles as his wish comes to mind.

A childish dream he still believed in.

The girl in his arms cheer when everybody's applause resounds, light flickering back on with another snap of the librarian's fingers.

"On behalf of every knight within Ordo Favonius, I thank you for your contribution in maintaining the peace of our city."

Jean steps forward, a hand on her heart as she speaks.

"We hope that you enjoy your time here, as well as allowing this place to become your second home."

The warmth in his chest intensifies, a feeling he hadn't felt for so long.

And the woman smiles.

"Everyone, let us say it together."

From the shy Assistant Alchemist to the outgoing Outrider, from the strict Acting Grand Master to the friendly Honorary Knight, from the rarely seen Chief Alchemist to the ever-present Apprentice Knight, from the graceful Librarian to the explosive Spark Knight.

All of them, with bright smiles, go on and-

"Happy birthday, Kaeya!"

Even if his eyes feel a bit like burning right now, the man grins back at them.

"Thank you, all of you."

He doesn't think he deserves it.

Yet as he feels their sincere affection and gratitude, he can't push them away.

Perhaps... for this occasion, he'll allow himself to be honest once more.

When stars fill the night sky and the moon ascends to its peak, the Cavalry Captain leans onto the railing of the small balcony as the party goes on inside the building.

He wonders if... it could have been this way, if none of the horrible events a few years back happened.

Other than throwing a party for him, Sucrose gave him quite a pleasant surprise by being able to make untesils somewhat "alive". Perhaps that was why she needed them this morning, so they could easily move around for everyone to use.

The girl's bio-alchemy skills are getting better and better, as expected of someone working alongside Mondstadt's best alchemist.

Well, she had potential anyway.

That said-

"... Having some time to yourself?"

He pauses upon hearing the voice.

This can't be-

"That is to be expected, you've never been a big fan of parties despite your eccentric nature."

Whipping his head to the source of the voice, he finds a familiar redhead sitting on the railing to the side - a leg on it and one dangling - away from people's view, in a black cloak he hadn't seen for so long.

"You..."

His voice comes out barely audible, like a faint whisper of utter disbelief.

"Why..."

"I want nothing to do with the Knights of Favonius."

The other sighs, glancing at him.

"But since it is a special day, I'll make an exception."

At that, the tanned man goes silent.

An exception? For...

"Before you even get to that, stop."

Currently masked, the redhead only waves him over.

"Come here."

That mask is different, not the same one he used before.

Considering what it was for, it isn't hard to understand why the other abandoned it along with "that".

Confused but curious, he does as he was told and stops in his tracks upon seeing the offered hand.

"... Diluc?"

At the mention of his name, the other averts his gaze.

"Hurry, we don't have all night."

Smirking, Kaeya finally takes the hand and chuckles quietly.

"Where are you taking me, O Nocturnal Guardian of Mondstadt?"

"... You'll see soon enough."

In quick succession, the redhead pulls the man closer to himself and sweeps him off of his feet using his leg.

The smirk on the Cavalry Captain's face immediately gets replaced by a look of surprise due to the sudden bridal carry and in turn, the Darknight Hero's lips quirk up slightly.

"Mond's Knight of Ice."

#post #text #genshin impact #kaeya alberich #diluc ragnvindr #jean gunnhildr #lisa minci #noelle #amber #the traveler #klee #albedo #sucrose #venti

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sophi-s · 3 years

Text

Silent Vigil

By: sophi-s

Fandom: Darksiders video games

Words: 7,102

Characters: Abaddon, Astarte,

Warnings: Blood and gore, Graphic descriptions of violence, poisoning

Summary:

Life of a soldier in war is often dangerous. Every day may be the last. Even for the most skilled warriors. When a simple mission goes awry, Astarte realises how vulnerable her young and foolish heart truly made her.

--------------------------------------------------

Another day of the never-ending war was slowly coming to an end in a cold, distant world, far away from Heaven's borders. In a snowstorm that came alongside dusk one could barely make out the well hidden shapes of tents in a makeshift camp the wandering squadron of angels had set up quite some time ago. The thick silence was only disturbed by wailing of the wind that brought to mind a sorrowful cry of a lone wolf. Heavy patches of snow were resting on top of the tents, hiding the amber glass underneath a thick white blanket.

Out of one of the smaller ones, a hooded figure emerges, wrapped up in a heavy winter coat with fur sewn into the edges. Their wings were folded back and tucked underneath the warm fabric to shield them from the ceaseless barrage of cold snowflakes and the ungodly cold. Wading knee-deep in snow, they swiftly cross the entirety of the camp like a spectre and step into the largest tent in the middle of it. Once inside, the hood is pulled back to reveal a head of dense platinum blonde hair falling around a smooth face of a female with brilliant white eyes flashing with determination of a warrior she is. Even when hidden from the elements and chilling winds, her breath was turning into white puffs slowly dissipating once they emerged from her parted lips.

Astarte brushes off the snow that still somehow managed to accumulate on her shoulders during her short walk and looks at another angel standing hunched above a map on a tabletop. But even bent over and not wearing his battle armor, he was of quite imposing height and stature. She smiles to herself sadly when he doesn't even notice her arrival and keeps grumbling something under his breath, still focused on the map. Unsurprisingly, he was still busying himself with strategizing. Astarte didn't know how long he'd been here without rest but she could bet her right hand he hadn't left ever since he dismissed her and the rest of his soldiers a couple of hours before. Part of her was actually glad that he is the one in charge and not she. Being a leader is a difficult and often tiresome task. Still, it doesn't mean she shouldn't support her general in his efforts. She's his lieutenant after all. That's her duty. And even if it wasn't, she would do so nonetheless as even her heart demanded her to be with him when he needs her. And in this moment he looked like he could use assistance.

"My Lord."

She greeted him, earning a glance of his piercing eyes, as cold as steel and as blue as the clear winter sky - hidden above their heads by thick, grey clouds - from underneath a crisp white fringe falling over his face. But the moment he realised it was her, the chill in his gaze faded and made place for warmth as a weary smile pulled at his mouth.

"No one is here, Astarte. There's no need for formality."

He replied and let his eyes linger on her for a couple more seconds before lowering them to the map between his hands resting on the table. Coming around it, Astarte stood beside him and looked at the plans under his careful scrutiny. They hadn't changed much from when she'd seen them last as he asked her to show what she'd learned and explain them to others. And this in itself was mildly concerning.

"Is there some kind of a problem, Abaddon?"

The archangel in question sighed and scratched the back of his neck, not taking his eyes off the map. After about a century under his command, Astarte knew Abaddon well enough to recognise apprehension in his mannerisms. He doesn't do that very often but when he does, usually a good reason exists. Leaning against the table as well, Astarte scans the entirety of the map to try and find the thing that made her commander and possibly future partner so uneasy. Unsuccessfully. There didn't seem to be a thing that should cause him distress. It was common knowledge in the White City that Abaddon was rather… paranoid to put it lightly. And in moments like this, it shows. Astarte didn't mind that but maybe now he's nervous just for the heck of it again.

"Not at all. And that's what doesn't seem right."

Astarte raised her eyebrow and looked up at him in confusion as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully before pointing at the map marked with small scribbled out notes in certain places with his whole hand.

"Look at it. There's nothing wrong with it! We've been after this artifact for months now and finally we - by a pure coincidence - find out about a group of demons which stumbled upon its location and is about to attempt retrieval? It's going way too smoothly for my taste. It can't be this easy.."

With a hum of affirmation, Astarte glanced down at the plan of the ruins, where the powerful demonic blade was supposedly hidden, again. The structure sat below the level of the terrain, two entrances and no other way out. A perfect place to ambush someone going in or out. About five days ago, a scouting party managed to capture a demon which tried to save its skin by revealing the location of the enchanted sword and the plan of its brethren who wished to get to it before Heaven does. The demon still perished but the information stayed. And at first it couldn't make Abaddon happier. Taking her and a group of thirty angels, the General of Heaven set out to intercept the demons and take over the artifact to make sure they don't use it against the White City. Now however, he seemed rather… frustrated, judging by the way he was drumming his fingers against the table. By now, they liquidated about half a dozen scouts and each provided at least some scraps of information they could put together to make a more or less clear image of their future task. For once, Astarte began to understand his concerns. There must be a catch. The question is "where?".

"You suspect some kind of a trick but if the artifact is really there, it's unacceptable to just leave it…"

"Exactly!"

Abaddon answered with a note of annoyance in his voice, still staring at the plan as though it had slighted him somehow. In a warrior's life nothing is ever easy. Astarte understood his doubts. Sometimes no words were needed to be spoken between them to reach this understanding. And that's why they were such a good team. All this really was going way too easily and it wasn't a surprise that he was so tense that the air around him seemed to turn heavy. She frowned, unhappy that this was one of those rare moments when she really wanted to help Abaddon but didn't know how. She despised this feeling. Unsure what else she could do, Astarte laid her hand on top of his, to at least try and offer him some semblance of peace of mind he needed.

"Standing here and glaring at the map won't make any difference. Try to rest."

With his eyebrows still furrowed in a worried frown, Abaddon shifted his hand under hers and curled his fingers around it.

"I am not sure if I can."

He murmured with resignation, failing to meet her eye. Now Astarte had no doubts as to how tired he really was. Abaddon rarely ever sounds like that. But true enough, if this unease stays with him, he might not be able to rest properly. That was just him. Utterly devoted to Heaven's cause, almost always putting duty on the first place. But right behind it, and often shifting places with it, was her. All it takes is the right word or the right touch. Letting go of his hand, Astarte rested her palm on his right cheek and leaned in to lightly brush her lips against his temple. His scowl immediately softened, his bushy eyebrows wandered slightly up his tattooed forehead and a corner of his mouth quirked upwards in a smile. Works almost every time..

Snapping his attention away from the blasted map, the archangel turned to Astarte with a sigh. He does that way too often when he feels uncertain. Still, this heaviness seemed to leave the atmosphere, a sign that she managed to fulfill the purpose she came here with, when she reached out to him and ghosted her fingertips against his cheek, simultaneously making him lean into her palm fondly. Moments later, Abaddon took her hand, lifted it to his mouth and pressed his warm lips to her knuckles red from the cold surrounding them. Looking at her with half-lidded, cerulean eyes, he met her gaze with that lively twinkle to them she knew so well from every time they had a moment together. She recognised that look. In spite of herself, Astarte smiled. Usually, she didn't really mind the open signs of affection when they were alone but they were in the middle of a frozen desert and on a very important mission.

"Abaddon, this really isn't the right time."

Astarte murmured as she put a hand on his mouth to stop him from proceeding when he began to inch closer to her, earning a slightly annoyed scowl from her Commander. She is his second-in-command and so her duty is to make sure he doesn't forget himself. But the thing is, Abaddon is one of the most stubborn creatures she'd known in all of Creation. The lengths he would go to get what he wants…

"May I remind you that you started it?"

He teased with a smirk clearly audible in the tone of his voice, making Astarte roll her eyes. She did, true, but they should stay focused on their task. There will be time for this once they accomplish what they came to this frozen hellhole for in the first place. Though, on the other hand… Ah, what's the point anyway? Astarte decided she will let him have this one if it helps him find peace tonight. I will have to relearn to stand up to him again… She thought as she lowered her hand right into his waiting palm.

The following kiss didn't surprise Astarte but still made her delightfully lightheaded. As it always does. Every next contact wasn't as exciting as the first one but still was sending the world around her spinning. Their romance was a badly kept secret, almost everyone in the White City knows by now, but it didn't feel any less thrilling than if they were actually secretly doing something forbidden. It wasn't uncommon for a general to be in relationship with his or her lieutenant.

"You too need your rest, Astarte. I'll need you to stay sharp tomorrow."

He breathed once he gave her her lips back far too soon and sadly Astarte knew he was right. Even if no deceit awaits them in those ruins, they all have to be on high alert. There's no joking around with demons. One of the first lessons Abaddon had taught her, back when she was still an overconfident and daring private who thought she could best anyone, him included.

"Very well. Goodnight to you, Abaddon."

"And to you, my love."

He offered as she pulled her hood up and walked out into the snowstorm to find a way back to her own tent, even though the cold made a small and quiet thought that "it would be much warmer if they stayed together and he surely wouldn't mind it" crawl its way into her head. There's no time for distractions. A difficult task awaits them tomorrow and they have to stay vigilant no matter what. The time will come after they succeed. Failure is out of question.

The Hellguard marched out of the camp before the first morning light. Time is of the essence and so they decided to waste none of it. Using the cover of the winter forest and the falling snowflakes, the angels quickly moved on foot not to draw the attention of demons which may be hiding somewhere around. Besides, flying was nigh impossible with the harsh, arctic wind tugging at them from every direction. Abaddon ordered to split the group to three, leaving one under the lead of Astarte, while he took the other two along.

It took an hour or so to arrive at the designated place. Indeed, the old ruins of a demonic outpost were half-concealed by nearby hills, the wilderness and by any plant life that has long crept inside. Built in a low spot, the structure was dark and ominous, radiating with sinister aura that could give creeps to even the bravest warriors. A dark presence lingered in the air, making this place seem even more grim and threatening. Astarte sneered slightly, a little at the freezing air seeping through her clothes and armor into her very bones, and a little at the discouraging atmosphere of this wretched place. The sooner they get this done with, the better.

Angels spread out and took their places to simultaneously have a good view of the ruins and good hiding spots from which one group could see the other two. With a silent sigh, Astarte frowned down at the ruins below her, constantly on alert for any movement. One minute passed. Two.. Five. Twenty. Nothing. Not a single soul. If the demons are truly inside then they are taking their sweet time. Just grand... She thought, already losing feeling in her toes and fingers. Wind kept wailing, the only sound that could be heard in this God-forsaken place.

Glancing about, Astarte furrowed her eyebrows. Something didn't feel right. There were no tracks of demonic clawed feet in over three mile radius, though it could be easily explained by demons using the Fallen which are capable of flight. But it didn't make her feel easier. No sounds, no signs of life. No wonder, what sane creature aside from a frost dragon would willingly make its home in this frozen landscape? The lack of any activity whatsoever also wasn't that strange when she thought about it. The wretched cowards can be hiding inside and waiting for the moody weather to calm down.

Still, a strange, unpleasant feeling was starting to rise in Astarte's gut. As though someone was… watching her. Just to double check, she scanned her surroundings in search of the source of this sensation. Nothing. Maybe paranoia is contagious? She chuckled inwardly. Her eyes fell onto Abaddon on the other side of the outpost, barely visible over the snow alongside his group. He wasn't looking at her, fully focused on his task. Of course. Why would he look at her now? This was something she shouldn't do either. Not when she should be on the lookout for their quarry.

However, just when Astarte was about to look back down, something in the distance caught her eye. For a brief second, she was absolutely certain she'd seen something that looked a lot like a tail swinging from a tree a couple of feet behind the other squad. A century or so ago, she would've ignored it, dismissed as her imagination. But it seems that paranoia really is contagious. And Abaddon taught her better than that. Astarte squinted at the object of her interest to try and make out more details. And her heart dropped to her heels.

Attached to what turned out to have been an actual tail, was a body of a slender demon coated in white fur, also dressed in white. To blend into the surroundings. Her experience told her. To her concern, once she noticed the first one, she suddenly started to spot more of them. All around. Stalking towards the unsuspecting angels focused on watching the ruins and something was telling her that the same was happening behind her own back. And that's when she felt a spike of dread jolt down her throat. The demon she initially spotted in the tree was holding something that looked a bit like a crossbow. And aiming at Abaddon's head from behind.

A realisation hit her that instead of the attackers, the Hellguard quickly turned into the attacked. Abaddon was right. This was trap! No clue how, but he knew. He has no idea, he won't notice the demon in time! She had to warn him somehow! To Hell with cover. Without a second thought, Astarte sprung up to her feet from where she was lying on her stomach half buried under the snow, sending a cloud of whiteness flying as she flared her rune-inscribed wings and yelled as loudly as her throat allowed her to before her vocal cords gave up.

"AMBUSH!!! "

In this very moment something heavy impacted with her back with a vicious roar, almost sending her toppling over the ledge. Were it not for her strength and the fact that she successfully avoided being surprised, Astarte stood her ground supporting herself with her spear to spare herself a painful fall just as her companions jumped out of their hiding spots to answer the demons with a counterattack. One of the younger angels under her command struck and killed the demon that pounced at her, one of the camouflaged white fiends she saw as she turned around, as bolts began to whizz through the air and screams of shocked angels intertwined with frustrated screeches of the Hellspawn.

Thanks to her quick reaction, the Hellguard swiftly entered defensive formations to face the ambushers. With a battle cry upon her lips, Astarte impaled one demon while her comrades were taking down others, trying to dodge or deflect the bolts. Why are they using crossbows? She wondered in spite of herself. Unfortunately, it wasn't the best time to ponder over their questionable choice of weapons. The dying demon on the end of her spear in its last act pulled itself further down the blade and almost onto the hilt, and desperately swung with its talons, tearing through her left arm before she could push it off.

With a pained sneer, Astarte tossed the now dead demon back at its brethren as she ordered her group to shift to offensive. The blood began to stain the spotless white snow in deep scarlet as more demons and, unfortunately, angels fell. But… something was unusual here. A second passed, two, three… and Abaddon was nowhere to be seen. Astarte doesn't get wounded often but when she does, it takes barely a beat for her commander to pretty much materialize out of thin air somewhere nearby to protect her, even if it is but a minor injury like this one. This time something was different. He most likely has problems of his own. She figured and led the charge against the fiendish warriors.

Oddly enough, the moment their ambush didn't work out, demons started to retreat as there was nothing more for them to achieve aside from losing more of their stealthy, lightly armored soldiers. And so, they fled just as quietly as they appeared, vanishing between the trees and in the snow.

Once the battle had ended, Astarte looked over the remaining angels. Previously she had ten. Now only five of them were unharmed while two more carried more or less serious wounds from blades and claws, often having crossbow bolts stuck in their armor. The other three… Astarte turned her gaze down and removed her helmet as her uninjured brethren did the same to pay respect to the fallen. She was well used to death but still. They were her brothers at arms. Angels she trusted and respected. After a moment, Astarte placed her headpiece back where it belonged and gripping her bleeding arm, she gave orders to her squad.

"Regroup. We need to evaluate the losses."

Taking a short flight, Astarte and the soldiers under her temporary command rejoined others. The Hellguard were still startled and disoriented, looking about in search of more attackers. Fortunately, to no avail. Astarte too was looking for something. Or rather someone when she couldn't see him anywhere at first. But barely seconds later she saw him. Sitting on the ground against a rock with two unnerved soldiers beside him, breathing heavily and unevenly, ashen face… He was keeping his hand over his chest. And sticking out from between his thumb and forefinger was.. Her eyes widened with fear…

A crossbow bolt.

Everything around Astarte halted as claws of horror, even colder than the snow and ice around her, got a hold of her heart which started to quiver in her chest. The demon still did manage to get Abaddon. Her warning came too late. And the bolt seemed to have been constructed in a way that made it very durable. The sharp projectile punched through Abaddon's breastplate without greater problems and now was stuck in his body.

"Abaddon!"

When she could move, she immediately rushed over to him, still unable to believe what had happened, and oblivious to her own injury fell to her knees beside him. Despite the pain that was apparently visible in his grimace, Abaddon turned his blue eyes at her with a frantic gleam in them.

"It… was a trap. I- I knew it! Astarte…"

He was interrupted by a harsh cough which caused blood to trickle out of the corner of his mouth. Talking clearly wasn't coming easily to him. Why would it, when he had a sharp bolt buried into his chest? Any incoming words were halted by Astarte putting her hand over his bloodied lips.

"Save your breath, my Lord."

She said, trying to keep her head cool despite the mounting panic in her throat, and took her eyes off his face to examine the wound. With his armor still on it was hard to determine the full extent of the damage but with how the bolt was positioned, Astarte could only imagine it may have punctured his left lung or damaged some vital blood vessels and she couldn't even extract it without risking causing further damage. Even as small as the wound was, it was dangerously near his heart that was surely pounding in his chest like crazy. The fact that there was barely any blood aside from that spilling steadily past his lips was hardly comforting. It could mean there's a much more severe internal bleeding. Hopefully not. Whether he likes it or not - which he most likely doesn't with how stubborn he is - Abaddon needed the help of a healer and needed it immediately.

"We have to move. There might be more of them nearby."

The Hellguard listened to Astarte without a moment of hesitation. She was the second in line to the position of a leader and Abaddon didn't seem like he was going to give orders any time soon. Astarte carefully pulled him up to his feet and hauled his arm over her own shoulders while other angels were gathering up those severely wounded and deceased in preparation to leave. As she was expecting, Abaddon grumbled in protest.

"I… can walk…"

"It doesn't mean you should."

With that, Astarte cut him off and it looked like he was not in the mood to argue with her. Neither did he have strength for it. The Hellguard moved out and left the cursed ruins behind. There was no doubt in Astarte's mind that there was no artifact here. This was just a bluff. A successful one unfortunately..

Even though there was hardly an hour of steady march between the ruins and their camp, for Astarte it felt like an eternity. With each laboured breath next to her ear and the weight of the injured archangel leaning against her shoulder slowly increasing, her agitation grew. But true enough, Abaddon did mostly walk on his own. At first. Not even fifteen minutes later, he was starting to get more sluggish and a faint tint of unhealthy green shaded his otherwise colorless face that should be tanned in warm tones. Still, he kept going. Until about half an hour later he stumbled, even though he was still supported by Astarte.

"I don't… I can't feel… my wings…"

He mumbled more to himself than anyone else, successfully getting his lieutenant's attention. True to his word, his wings were limply dragging behind him, motionless. And once she noticed that the light in his eyes had already faded and he's moments from slipping into unconsciousness, the panic returned. Her heart was hammering against her ribcage in despair. He was dying. She cannot lose him. Not him. Everyone but him.

"No… no, Abaddon! Don't fall asleep!"

She called desperately, making all of the angels to look back at them both with non hidden fright. Two Storm Heralds even rushed over to help as she held her commander who was very quickly losing his grip on life. With how heavy he was, Astarte had no other choice than to lower him to the ground. And she could feel how unnaturally warm under her hands his skin was. The camp is so close… He can't give up now! He can't… Just a little longer..

Don't close your eyes…

But despite her silent plea, her efforts to keep his head up and pull him back up… he did. His eyelids slipped closed, he ferociously fought to keep them opened but in vain. Even though Astarte was beginning to feel the shaking of her hands, she called to others.

"Help me get him up! We need to act quickly!"

The rest of the path to the campsite was a haze. Astarte remembered it like through a mist that clouded her senses and she wasn't even sure how and when she found herself in her own tent with Maral, an angel who was like a little sister to her, tending to the claw marks on her shoulder. Luckily, Maral herself wasn't injured in any way and she was the one to inform Astarte of the whole situation. Eight dead and ten injured in total. No artifact in sight. Not a very cheering perspective.. However, Astarte was only half paying attention to what Maral was saying. Her thoughts were elsewhere. In Abaddon's personal tent where he was brought to be taken care of about an hour ago. She was tapping her foot impatiently as Maral was getting her arm disinfected and wrapped up in bandages since there were only three healers in camp and two of them were injured too while the third one tended to the General.

"There. It should be mostly-... Hey! Where are you going?"

Astarte didn't really hear the call. After Maral was done with her wounds, she immediately stood up and walked out, heading to her General's tent, not caring about the cold anymore. Only one thought accompanied her on the way to her destination. Please, be alive... And please, stay that way... In the entrance she bumped into the aforementioned healer.

"Suriel. How is he?"

Judging by the grim expression Suriel bore, Astarte could tell she wasn't going to like what he was about to say. Of all angels, Astarte is rarely frightened. But this was one of those rare moments and she was glad she had her armor removed, because without a doubt it would clatter loudly, considering how much she was shaking. Don't tell me it's what I think it is.. She begged. Not a single part of her being was prepared to accept the fact that her beloved could be…

"He lives."

Not even the mightiest creature in the Universe could've stopped the loud exhale of relief that left Astarte the moment the news was revealed to her. However, it turned out she was too quick to rejoice.

"But he isn't well. The bolt.. although it did get to his lung that's not the main concern."

True enough, breathing isn't vital for angels to survive, though such an injury is rather inconvenient and if not healed properly can cause trouble in the future. But hearing that the punctured lung isn't the main concern immediately sent Astarte's heart back into frenzy before it could fully calm its pace.

"It was poisoned."

"Poisoned..?"

She echoed, already feeling increasingly dizzy from all this. Blessed Creator, please, let this chaos finally end... Of course the demons would poison their weapons! The fact why they were using crossbows became much clearer now. They lured the Hellguard out to try and take down its leaders. Bastards. Honestly, Astarte could consider herself lucky that she wasn't hit with one of the poisoned projectiles because without a shadow of a doubt she was one of the main targets as well.

"One of the killed demons had a vial of antidote in a knapsack but… the venom spread around his system very quickly. It will help. But that's all I could do. Lord Abaddon will have to battle the poison on his own until someone more experienced arrives."

It wasn't surprising that someone has already gone to the White City to call for help and deliver a report from the unsuccessful operation. Astarte could only hope either Abaddon will pull through or someone will get here to help him on time.

"Can I… see him?"

Suriel nodded. Astarte waited no longer and hesitantly peered inside of the tent. The sight that greeted her made her feel like her heart fell to pieces. No one had to say it out loud for her to realise that she wasn't ready for what awaited her. On a cot under coverlets in the far end of the tent, was him. Abaddon. Her beloved.. And he looked like a corpse. Still, unmoving, pallid skin… his eyelids and lips were in a blueish-purple hue. A blood-soaked bandage was wrapped around his chest and a wet piece of folded cloth rested on his forehead. Droplets of sweat were rolling down his face, shining in the gloom like crystals, as he heaved in shallow breaths.

Biting down on her lower lip, Astarte walked up to the cot and sat down on a stool beside it. Beside her love and light. The light that was now struggling to keep burning, fighting the deadly poison coursing through his veins. Up this close, she could plainly see how unwell he really was.

Abaddon was always the strongest of the heavenly warriors. Unbreakable. Someone Astarte looked up to ever since he quite literally took her under his wing when Malahidael couldn't deal with her overconfidence and lack of respect. Those were ones of her most cherished memories.. And now? It seemed all it would take was so much as sneezing in his direction to send his soul plummeting into the Well. Seeing him like this.. weak, broken and vulnerable… it made Astarte feel small and insignificant.

A choked huff that slipped past Abaddon's chapped lips as his whole body shivered violently, did very little to calm Astarte down. Her heart sank, corners of her mouth sagged sadly, when his eyelids twitched and his upper lip peeled back to reveal his teeth. Hesitantly, she reached out to him and ran her fingers through his white hair as he kept thrashing about in his feverish sleep and muttering.

"To- to me, Hellguard... As- Astarte… where are you..?"

"I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere…"

She whispered and leaned down to place a kiss to his trembling lips. Not going anywhere. Gently brushing her fingers against his cheek, hot like fire, she kept talking to him softly until his shivers eased and he fell into a much deeper and calmer sleep. She wasn't going to leave him. Not now. Not when he needs her the most. Not when she needs him..

For the next three days or so there was no change whatsoever. Abaddon kept drifting in and out of consciousness, delirious with scorching fever - sometimes weakly calling Astarte's name - and barely aware of anything happening around him. And he wasn't getting better. Astarte stayed at his side, silent and hopeful. His lieutenant hadn't moved from her place even if either Maral or someone else came over and proposed to change her in her shift so that Astarte may rest, to which the answer was "I'm not going to be able to sleep anyway.". She was helping with changing bandages and making sure the cloth on his forehead remains cool. The latter part was rather frustrating as the water in the basin next to the cot kept freezing over and with her nerves already in shreds Astarte barely held back from angrily lobbing it across the tent.

All the time she spent at Abaddon's side she was begging him to wake up, open his eyes and look at her. And every time he was shifting from uneasy delirium to numb unconsciousness she died a little bit inside out of fear that this time his heart may have given up.

"This has to be a nightmare…"

She once muttered to herself clutching Abaddon's motionless hand which felt like heated in a fire, hoping in vain that his grip will tighten any second now.

"And this is my fault.."

No words were able to put her mind at ease. The blame was rightfully on her, even though no one told her outright "It's because of you. You've failed him." She just convinced herself that it's the truth. Her duty was to protect Abaddon when he wasn't able to do so on his own. And despite Suriel, Maral and many others saying that it's a good thing she reacted so quickly, because were it not for her warning it could've ended much worse, the overwhelming feeling of guilt still remained.

And after those three days of emotional torment none other than the archangel Raphael arrived at the camp, carrying a message from the Council of Angels, ordering those injured who can be safely moved to return to the City. Without any exceptions. And that meant Astarte as well. But her Commander was to stay at the camp until he's cleansed of the vile venom threatening his life since there was a risk he would not survive this journey.

Astarte knew that she's leaving Abaddon in good hands. If anyone could help him, it would be the head healer of the White City. Still, she felt guilty for being forced to abandon him. Alongside a group of wounded angels, she left for her home with a heavy heart. All she could do was wait, harboring a feeling she found absolutely horrible. Helplessness. Wanting to act, feeling the need to, but being incapable of doing so. She should be with him, not hiding behind the White Gates! This was her duty. She swore to stand beside him no matter what. And now, the Council of Angels made her break this vow.

The next few days Astarte spent living in a lucid dream. A nightmare to be more accurate. Praying for Abaddon to pull through. She found herself often staring into the void, thinking. She missed his voice, his reassuring presence. His touch… Where is he? Is he alright? He has to be… Doesn't he? Of course he does! He's been through much worse more than once already. One bolt, even coated in noxious substance can't be enough to put him down. Unless… This was the thought that kept torturing Astarte. This "unless". After all, she'd seen how bad it was. How even with the antitoxin her Commander seemed to continue to slip away. Whatever the demons used, it must've been a truly horrendous poison..

When a week of solitude has gone by, reality started to sink in. It was taking too long already. Abaddon should've been healed by now. His absence could only mean… No! Raphael wouldn't fail. It's impossible! He can't be dead. Can he…? And even if so, the word about the demise of Abaddon of all people should have already been spread around the White City. But instead.. nothing. No news. Silence. Eventually, in this uncertainty and lack of any signs from anyone who remained at the camp, Astarte slowly started to believe, even though her heart screamed in denial. Sitting on the side of her bed in her home, she stared at her own boots, seconds ticked by, each lasting way longer than it should. What if he is gone? What is she going to do?

The Council will name her the next leader of the Hellguard without a doubt. All of Abaddon's responsibilities will be passed down to her. Maybe she will be able to forget if she keeps herself busy? She should've known that falling in love was a bad idea. Both she and Abaddon are warriors. Even with their unmatched skill, it was only a matter of time before one of them fell. But what could she do about it? He taught her so much, gave her all his knowledge and even offered his own heart that remained cold and stern for anyone but her. This last gift she could not reject as her own soul yearned to be close to him after everything he'd done for her. She couldn't win with it. Even though she tried her best once. Before she knew what he felt. Before… everything. She missed those times when Abaddon was no one else to her than her Commander perfectly capable of kicking her butt in any sparring to make sure she stays in line...

A quiet sound of opening doors caught her attention and made her head snap up. It was so sudden and unexpected that she felt a jolt of fear in her stomach. But with this fear came a shy ray of hope. Only one angel in the entire City walked into her house without knocking and only because she said he doesn't have to because he'd always be welcome. A rustle of feathers as a pair of wings beat once, a barely audible thud right behind the door to her bedroom. The doorknob moved. Slowly turned around and soon in the crack of the door, a pair of familiar blue lights appeared. Her heart hastened and her eyes grew wide like saucers. Could it… be true? Her hopes faded soon enough when she realised that it was probably just Azrael coming again to try and console her and her imagination is merely playing tricks on her. But the voice she heard seconds later made her heart skip a beat.

"Astarte?"

Still rather pale and swaying lightly on his legs, his eyes dull and devoid of their shine, Abaddon stepped into her room with relief painted across his face once he saw her before him. Words couldn't describe what was happening in her head at this moment. On the one hand she was absolutely ecstatic. He's alive. He hasn't left her despite the gravity of his recent condition. But on the other hand, she felt angry. Where was he all this time? Why was he keeping her in the dark? Not even a word when she was here already mourning and thinking how she should tackle becoming a leader all of the sudden. Jumping up to her feet, Astarte rushed over to him, closing the distance in one beat of her wings, just as he opened his arms in a welcoming gesture. Only to retract in shock once her palm loudly met his face, leaving a stinging sensation in its wake. However, Abaddon didn't have time to react in any way aside from looking at Astarte with disbelief before she threw her arms around his neck and tugged him down into a kiss.

"You are giving mixed signals."

He chuckled, oblivious to the red handprint forming on his cheek once Astarte pulled away to glare daggers at him.

"I thought I lost you! Again! Don't ever do that to me!"

She yelled at him, respect towards superiors be damned. In all of her life she'd never been so scared. She remembered one time when Abaddon did get severely wounded but he quickly got out of this. Now it was three times as bad. Back then she could've at least stayed with him. Astarte didn't feel sorry for that slap to the face, the bastard had it coming for a long time now. And it seemed that he was well aware he deserved that one.

"Forgive me. I'll do my best never to let something like that happen again. Is there a way to make up for it?"

Angels don't cry. It's not like they aren't fully equipped to do so, they just… don't. Especially warriors. It doesn't suit a warrior to cry. If they do however, for good reasons. And Astarte felt she was on the verge of snapping, her vision turned misty as tears were forcing its way into her eyes. But no. She refused to fall apart, especially in front of her Commander. Looking up at him and fighting the tremble in her voice, she answered so quietly it might seem she didn't really meant to say that out loud. But he did hear it.

"Stay with me… And don't let go.."

His hands came up to her cheeks and he looked her deep in the eye with a soft smile on his face. The first tear had fallen once he pressed his forehead against hers and sighed contentedly before fully closing the distance and laying his lips on hers.

"Here, tonight.. your wish is my command."

He replied and encased her in a comforting embrace, holding her head against his chest as though to show her he's still here. And the steady heartbeat below her ear made her cry out in relief. If she's dreaming, then she doesn't want to ever wake up again. No.. this heartbeat felt far too real.

Perhaps it would've been seen as improper, but she had to make sure. Astarte reached out with her shaking hand to him and Abaddon didn't stop her as she peeled back the collar of his tunic to expose the bandage still concealing the wound he suffered from recently. Her hand carefully rested over it. He felt real. It was no dream. The nightmare has come to an end. He's here. Safe.. For this short moment, they both are.

For once in the ceaseless conflict between Heaven and Hell, Astarte could feel at peace and so could he. Just to seek reassurance, she placed the pads of her fingers on his throat to feel his pulse. To feel that he's truly with her, alive, holding her close, folding his wings around her.. and that this night he isn't going anywhere.

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Idk, I just wanted to draw something and this happened in turn 😆

Also, I can't draw Astarte's face to save my life 😂

It's weird, I know, but I wanted to do something for Valentines. Back into the cringe abyss I go.

#darksiders #darksiders genesis #fan art #darksiders abaddon #darksiders astarte #abaddon #astarte #demons #my art #fan fiction #my fic #my writing #I wrote it three times 😂#yikes #cringe

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