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squirrelwithatophat · 2 months

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How the Chantry (and Orlais) Turned Kirkwall into a Police State

One aspect of the Dragon Age series that I’ve always found odd is the way in which rather crucial political and historical context surrounding major conflicts the player must decide tends to be relegated to codices, outside materials (e.g., books), and optional dialogue with minor characters... meaning that many if not most players don’t seem to end up actually seeing it. Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts (Dragon Age Inquisition) in particular has become somewhat notorious for what it left out, but it’s far from unusual.

With regard to Dragon Age II, there’s a popular perception among fans that the troubles in Kirkwall can be attributed almost entirely to rogue behavior on the part of Knight-Commander Meredith and various evil blood mages. This is understandable given the overall narrative framing and Bioware’s aforementioned problem of making key context very easy to miss. But once we take a look at the full picture, it ought to be clear that the Chantry did not simply “fail” in their responsibilities towards the mages or towards the citizens of Kirkwall more broadly — they actively created and maintained the very nightmare they later professed to be dismayed about.

Moreover, despite the running Mages vs. Templars theme, the mages were hardly the only one's who suffered under Meredith's rule. Indeed, Kirkwall endured a brutal 16-year-long dictatorship (9:21-9:37 Dragon) that came into being courtesy of the Chantry and the Orlesian empire and only fell due to the mage rebellion.

Here I’ll describe in detail (with sources and citations) the story of how the Chantry turned Kirkwall into a police state and one that ultimately descended into what the writers themselves termed "genocide."

The Templar Coup of 9:21 Dragon

Our story begins with the conflict between Viscount Perrin Threnhold of Kirkwall and Emperor Florian Valmont of Orlais.

With the beginning of the Dragon Age (the era), the Orlais had experienced a major loss of territory and influence. In 9:00-9:02 Dragon (the exact dates conflict), the Fereldan Rebellion led by Maric Theirin and Loghain Mac Tir overthrew Meghren, the last Orlesian King of Ferelden (personally appointed to the position by Emperor Florian himself), and reclaimed their country’s independence after nearly a century of Orlesian occupation. These events are described in detail in The Stolen Throne. Emperor Florian, however, remained reluctant to recognize Ferelden’s sovereignty -- with peace between the two countries not being fully established until his death and the ascension of his niece Celene to the throne in 9:20 Dragon -- and may have been eager to reassert Orlesian influence in the region. Perrin Threnhold, meanwhile, ascended to the position of viscount of Kirkwall (also formerly occupied by Orlais) in 9:14 Dragon. At some point during this volatile period, Threnhold decided to raise money by charging what the Orlesians regarded as unreasonably high tolls for passage through the Waking Sea, which also controlled Orlais’s sea access to Ferelden and its capitol, Denerim.

For reference, here’s a map with my highlights:

The Orlesian Chantry, founded by Kordillus Drakon I (the first emperor of Orlais), had from the beginning been dominated by Orlesian interests. According to World of Thedas vol. 1 (p. 56): “The Orlesian capital, Val Royeaux, is home to the Chantry’s Grand Cathedral, the center of the Andrastian religion’s power. Over multiple Blights, the Orlesians have used the Chantry to expand their influence beyond the nation’s impressive borders, notably to the north into Tevinter territory and southeast through Ferelden.” The Chantry, not surprisingly, had backed the Orlesian invasion and occupation of Ferelden, most recently under Divine Beatrix III (probably) and Grand Cleric Bronach of Denerim. It should be noted that this is all part of a pattern of highly-aggressive and imperialistic behavior that has persisted for centuries from the early years up to (potentially) the events of Dragon Age Inquisition.

It also cannot be emphasized enough that the Templars are the Chantry’s army and were created by the Chantry in the first place. They do not simply hunt and guard mages; they fight the Chantry’s wars and carry out its policies. Quote: “the Order of Templars was created as the martial arm of the Chantry” (Codex: Templars). According to First Enchanter Halden of Starkhaven (8:80 Blessed), “While mages often resent the templars as symbols of the Chantry's control over magic, the people of Thedas see them as saviors and holy warriors, champions of all that is good, armed with piety enough to protect the world from the ravages of foul magic. In reality, the Chantry's militant arm looks first for skilled warriors with unshakable faith in the Maker, with a flawless moral center as a secondary concern. Templars must carry out their duty with an emotional distance, and the Order of Templars prefers soldiers with religious fervor and absolute loyalty over paragons of virtue who might question orders when it comes time to make difficult choices. It is this sense of ruthless piety that most frightens mages when they draw the templars' attention: When the templars are sent to eliminate a possible blood mage, there is no reasoning with them, and if the templars are prepared, the mage's magic is all but useless. Driven by their faith, the templars are one of the most feared and respected forces in Thedas” (Codex: Templars). Likewise, a Chantry official confirms that the Templars are both “the watchers of the mages and the martial arm of the Chantry” (Codex: Seekers of Truth). In Dragon Age Origins, the (unwillingly) Templar-trained Alistair elaborates, “Essentially they’re trained to fight. The Chantry would tell you that the templars exist simply to defend, but don’t let them fool you. They’re an army... The Chantry keeps a close reign on its templars. We are given lyrium to help develop our magical talents, you see… which means we become addicted. And since the Chantry controls the lyrium trade with the dwarves… well, I’m sure you can put two and two together... The Chantry usually doesn’t let their templars get away, either.”

In response to Threnhold’s intolerable restrictions on the Orlesian navy’s movements in its traditional sphere of influence, Divine Beatrix III, an acknowledged “friend of the emperor” (and predecessor to Divine Justinia V of DAI), ordered the Kirkwall Templars under Knight-Commander Guylian to force open the Waking Sea. Viscount Threnhold retaliated for this obviously-illegal military interference by ordering the Templars expelled from Kirkwall and later executing the knight-commander. Then-Knight-Captain Meredith Stannard led the remaining Templars to storm the Keep and arrest Threnhold before appointing a weak viscount unwilling or unable to resist her control.

From Kirkwall: City of Chains by Brother Ferdinand Genitivi (Codex: History of Kirkwall: Chapter 4):

Taxes were crippling and Perrin Threnhold used the ancient chains extending from “the Twins” standing at Kirkwall's harbor—unused since the New Exalted Marches—to block sea traffic and charge exorbitant fees from Orlesian ships. The Empire threatened invasion following the closure of the Waking Sea passage, and for the first time, the Chantry used the templars to pressure the viscount. Until that point, the templars had done nothing to counter the Threnholds even though, as the largest armed force in Kirkwall, they could have. Knight-Commander Guylian's only written comment was in a letter to Divine Beatrix III: “It is not our place to interfere in political affairs. We are here to safeguard the city against magic, not against itself.” The divine, as a friend to the emperor, clearly had other ideas.

In response, Viscount Perrin hired a mercenary army, forcing a showdown with the templars. They stormed the Gallows and hung Knight-Commander Guylian, igniting a series of battles that ended with Perrin's arrest and the last of his family's rule. The templars were hailed as heroes, and even though they wished to remain out of Kirkwall's affairs, it was now forced upon them. Knight-Commander Meredith appointed Lord Marlowe Dumar as the new viscount in 9:21 Dragon and she has remained influential in the city's rule ever since.

Given that this was written by a Chantry scholar, the self-justificatory rhetoric surrounding the viscount and the Chantry-instigated coup ought not be surprising. It appears, however, that in Kirkwall itself popular perceptions of Viscount Perrin Threnhold are in fact fairly polarized.

Whereas Brother Genitivi calls Perrin’s father Chivalry Threnhold “a vicious thug who took power through a campaign of intimidation” and Perrin Threnhold “even worse,” an unnamed servant writing 7 years after the coup paints a rather different picture (Codex: Viscount Marlowe Dumar):

What happened to Viscount Perrin Threnhold was a travesty. I served in the Keep, and my blood boils when I hear people call him a tyrant. He was a good man who tried his best to free Kirkwall from the control of those who use power for their own purposes. It's always been that way here, hasn't it? Long ago it was the Imperium. Then it was the Qunari, then the Orlesians, now the templars... when have we ever ruled ourselves? He tried to kick those templar bastards out and give us real freedom, and what did it get him?

Whether Threnhold was an evil tyrant or a nationalist hero (or both or something else entirely) is beside the point, however. He was not overthrown for mistreating the citizens of Kirkwall; he was overthrown for opposing Orlais and the Templars (acting as an arm of Orlesian imperialism and in defiance of their official duties). Seneschal Bran, himself no fan of either Threnhold or the Templars (and the only character to ever discuss the coup out loud), points this out in an easy-to-miss optional conversation in Act 3.

Hawke: What happens if they [the Templars] don’t like the [nobility’s] choice [of viscount]?

Seneschal Bran: Do you know how Viscount Dumar’s predecessor, Perrin Threnhold, left office? He was a tyrant, certainly, but his rule was not ended until he actively sought to expel the templars. “The good of all” is inexorably tied to what is good for the templars.

It’s unclear whether Knight-Captain Meredith was acting on her own initiative in toppling Threnhold or whether she received prior encouragement from the Chantry, but either way, what is certain is that the Chantry moved quickly to legitimize her actions and bolster the new order. Moreover, the intent to seize power for the Chantry and its military forces rather than “liberate” Kirkwall from the depredations of a tyrannical viscount can be seen in the way they illegally imposed their own viscount (one kept submissive through threats of violence) rather than allowing the people to choose or at the very least following accepted selection procedures (i.e., allowing the nobility to vote on the next viscount). Indeed, this refusal to let the nobility select the viscount as per tradition is the basis of Orsino's protest at the beginning of Act 3.

In any event, Grand Cleric Elthina, as the highest-ranking representative of the Chantry in Kirkwall (appointed to her position by Divine Beatrix III herself around 20 years before Act 1) and thus exercising authority over its Templars, presided over the show trial at the end of which Threnhold was imprisoned and later murdered in his cell. Then she rewarded Meredith with a promotion.

According to the codex for Knight-Commander Meredith:

She is credited with removing the previous viscount, Perrin Threnhold, from his position after he attempted to have the templars expelled from the city in 9:21 Dragon. The acting knight-commander was arrested and executed, and Meredith led a group of templars into the heart of the Keep to capture Threnhold. He was tried and imprisoned three days later by Grand Cleric Elthina and died from poisoning two years later. Meredith was subsequently elevated to her current position.

While merely implied here, Elthina is explicitly confirmed to have given Meredith the position of knight-commander in the first place in World of Thedas vol. 2 (p. 193):

Following Threnhold’s arrest, Grand Cleric Elthina appointed Meredith as the new knight-commander. At Knight-Commander Meredith’s suggestion, a new viscount was chosen: a man named Marlowe Dumar.

Then in blatant violation of Kirkwall’s own laws and traditions -- again, dictating that the viscount be chosen by the nobility -- the Chantry had allowed newly-installed Knight-Commander Meredith to select the new viscount. If approached in the Templar-occupied Viscount’s Keep and spoken to in Act 3, Seneschal Bran will explain:

Bran: When a line is judged unfit, or ends, we appoint from Kirkwall’s elite. Or we would, if the situation was normal. But it is not.

Hawke: Who nominates a new viscount?

Bran: A consensus of the nobility. Normally. And a willing nominee.

It seems to be the general consensus that Marlowe Dumar was chosen specifically because he was weak and willing to play the role of Templar/Chantry puppet (a subheading in Dumar’s WoT v2 entry even explicitly calls him “The Puppet”). Meredith, after all, is not only responsible for his appointment but has been threatening him into compliance from the very beginning.

Again, Brother Genitivi writes quite bluntly:

Knight-Commander Meredith appointed Lord Marlowe Dumar as the new viscount in 9:21 Dragon and she has remained influential in the city's rule ever since.

And quoting once more from the unnamed servant:

Now the Chantry has chosen Lord Marlowe Dumar as his replacement. After weeks and weeks of arguing, after telling the nobility that they would be choosing their viscount, after everyone saying it was time to use a new title—why not "king"? Why keep using the name imposed by the Orlesians? And after all that, the Chantry chose him. I suppose I can see why—everyone thinks he has the spine of a jellyfish, and it does seem that way.

Truly, he has the templars on one side, the nobility on the other, and everyone expects him to solve all their problems—yet he has no power to actually accomplish it. He keeps the peace as best he can, and I think he does a good job even if no one else does.

Likewise, to quote from Marlowe Dumar’s entry in World of Thedas vol. 2 (p. 184-185):

The new knight-commander, Meredith, appointed Marlowe to the seat, much to his surprise. Just before he was crowned, he met in private with the knight-commander at the Gallows. Marlowe was escorted, surrounded by grim templars, to Meredith’s well-appointed office, and there, she explained her reasons for the choice. Kirkwall was filled with entitled degenerates... “With my help, you will turn this city around,” she said. “We will be allies.” Meredith’s message was clear: Remember who holds power in Kirkwall. Remember what happened to Threnhold when he overreached. To drive her point home, she presented Marlowe with a small carven ivory box at his coronation. The box contained the Threnhold signet ring, misshapen, and crusted with blood. On the inside of the lid were written the words “His fate need not be yours.” Marlowe ruled Kirkwall without incident for almost a decade, in no small part thanks to Meredith’s backing. During his reign, the templars grew even more powerful, and the knight-commander’s influence was evident in almost every one of Marlowe’s decisions.

And from Meredith’s entry in WoT vol. 2 (p. 193):

Meredith presented Dumar with a carved ivory box at his crowning. All present witnessed the viscount going white as a sheet as he opened it... It is not known what the box contained, but the reaction from Dumar made its importance to him obvious. What is certain is that Dumar never openly or strongly defied the templars. Over the course of his reign, Meredith’s grip on Kirkwall grew ever tighter, and Dumar’s failure to act absolutely contributed to the events that led to the mage rebellion.

According to Lord Bellamy, “a longtime political ally of Dumar’s” (p. 193):

“Dumar had a good heart. A good heart and a weak will. On his own he might have made a good leader, given time. But he wasn’t on his own. The knight-commander was always there, looking over his shoulder. She let him know she was watching, that he wore the crown at her sufferance. Meredith appointed him. This was a nobleman of only moderate wealth, with little influence. She knew she could control him and there was little he or anyone else could do about it.”

Ultimately, the coup not only secured Chantry control over Kirkwall but furthered their (and the Orlesian Empire’s) geopolitical interests in the Free Marches as a whole. After all, the “Free Marches is [sic] best known as the breadbasket of Thedas. Its farms along the banks of the great Minanter river are the source of much of the continent’s food” (World of Thedas vol. 1, p. 65), and as with many a real-world “breadbasket,” its natural abundance and misfortune of lying between multiple empires had made it the target of one invasion and occupation after another. After the slave revolt of 25 Ancient toppled the Tevinter Imperium’s hold over the region (see Codex: History of Kirkwall: Chapter 2), the city-state of Kirkwall fell to Qunari invasion in 7:56 Storm, then invasion and occupation by the Orlesian Empire in 7:60 Storm, and finally gained its independence about 45 years later in 8:05 Blessed (see Codex: History of Kirkwall: Chapter 3). Prior to the Chantry-instigated coup, Kirkwall had enjoyed independence under a locally-chosen viscount for around 115 years, with Viscount Perrin Threnhold himself ruling for 7 years.

Other city-states of the Free Marches have likewise fallen under the Chantry’s sphere of influence (if not outright control):

Starkhaven is ruled by the Vael family. According to the codex for The Vaels, “They remain devout, dedicating at least one son or daughter per generation to become a cleric in the chantry.” The sole potential heir to the throne of Starkhaven is of course our DLC companion Sebastian Vael, “The Exiled Prince.” To quote from his first codex: “Sebastian Vael is the only surviving son of the ruling family of Starkhaven, which was murdered in a violent coup d'etat. Sebastian cannot forget the irony that he still lives only because his family was so ashamed of his drinking and womanizing that they committed him to the Kirkwall Chantry against his will… Since then, his belief in the Maker and His plan for Thedas have been unshakable. Embracing his new role, Sebastian took vows of poverty and chastity to become a sworn brother of the Chantry... until word of his family's deaths forced him to take up worldly concerns once again.” Elthina appears to have been playing mind games with Sebastian from the very beginning -- first she agrees to have him confined in her Chantry, then poses as a secret benefactor helping him escape from her clutches, with the revelation of her identity as said pretend benefactor leading him to embrace her authority and the life of a Chantry brother with genuine enthusiasm (see the Sebastian short story or his WoT v2 entry for details). After his family’s murder, Elthina urges him to remain with her rather than reclaim the throne. Yet when he gives up on seeking the throne and actually does attempt to return to the Chantry during “a crisis of faith,” he is “turned away by Grand Cleric Elthina, who believed he had not yet committed fully to either course” (see Codex: Sebastian - The Last Three Years), leaving him confused and even more under her thrall than ever.

Ostwick is dominated by the devout, staunchly pro-Chantry Trevelyan family. According to the codex for Trevelyan, the Free Marcher: “It is an old and distinguished family, in good standing among its peers, and with strong ties to the Chantry. Its youngest sons and daughters—those third- or fourth-born children with little chance of becoming heirs—often join the Chantry to become templars or clerics.”

Tantervale is certainly... special. According to WoT vol. 1 (p. 71): “Chantry rule is all but absolute in Tantervale, earning the city its dour reputation. The city guard is obsessed with enforcement. A street urchin would get a year in the dungeon for something that would get him a pat on the back in Orlais” (p. 71).

But let us return to Kirkwall, shall we?

"The Puppet”: The Reign of Viscount Marlowe Dumar (9:21-9:34 Dragon)

Viscount Marlow Dumar’s status as an impotent tool of the Chantry and its Templars appears to be common knowledge in Kirkwall. Various characters, from city guards to lowlifes like Gamlen, casually refer to Meredith as if she is head of state and defer to her authority.

Immediately upon approaching the gates of the city in the first quest of the game, The Destruction of Lothering (Act 1), the following exchange occurs:

Guardsman Wright: So Knight-Commander Meredith wants us to sort you all out. Most of you are getting right back on your ships, though.

Hawke: That's a templar title. Why would a city guardsman answer to the templars?

Wright: We don't answer to her... but she's the power in Kirkwall. Don't know what would happen if the viscount went against something she wanted... But he's sure never taken that chance.

Likewise, if asked about “the word on the street,” Corff the bartender remarks as early as Act 1, “People say Meredith's the real power in Kirkwall, not the Viscount. Even Dumar answers to her.”

Ordinary citizens appear terrified of Meredith, and with good reason. During the quest Enemies Among Us (Act 1, set in 9:31 Dragon), we get the following exchange with the sister of a Templar recruit:

Macha: I pleaded with him not to join the Order, but he wouldn't listen. You hear dark rumors about the templars and Knight-Commander Meredith. And now my brother is gone.

Hawke: (“Are templars so bad here?”) In Lothering, some templars died protecting villagers. I never heard any dark rumors.

Macha: And those are the stories my Keran adored. But it is not like that here, serah. There is a growing darkness in the order. They prowl the streets in packs. Hunting. And now, they say their duties put them above us, that they have the right to... take people from their homes. It is frightening.

Hawke: (“Tell me about Meredith”) What do people say about Knight-Commander Meredith?

Macha: Oh, she has many admirers. They laud the service she does in keeping the mages in check. But others say she is terribly fierce and utterly without pity. That she sees demons everywhere. It is dangerous even to whisper such things. People harboring escaped mages just disappear. Templars interrogate and threaten passers-by. My friend has a cousin who’s a mage, and she says he was made Tranquil against his will. You hear more with each passing day.

Of course, Knight-Commander Meredith’s reign over the Gallows was notoriously brutal long before she came into contact with Red Lyrium. Writing 3 years after the coup (but 7 years before Act 1), in 9:24 Dragon, Brother Genitivi remarks that "Kirkwall has been a tinderbox since becoming the center of templar power in eastern Thedas." As early as Act 1, mages in the Gallows can be heard crying out, “This place is a prison,” and “Knight-Commander Meredith would kill us all if she could.” When asked if mages are imprisoned, the guardsman replies, “Used to be, back in the Imperial days. They kept slaves here until the rebellion. Now the templars run it and use it to lock up their mages. Guess not much has changed” (The Destruction of Lothering, Act 1). Karl Thekla’s final letter before being turned Tranquil (with such illegal uses of the Rite having been repeatedly reported to Meredith) “said the knight-commander was turning the Circle into a prison. Mages are locked in their cells, refused appearances at court, made Tranquil for the slightest crimes” (Tranquility, Act 1). If Hawke questions the truth of these accusations, Anders responds, “Ask any mage in Kirkwall. Over a dozen were made Tranquil just this year. The more people you ask, the worse the rumors become.” (Elthina also appears to be aware at least to some extent of the subsequent ambush, in which a Tranquil Karl was used as bait to ensnare his former lover).

According to the short story Paper & Steel (focusing on Samson): “Under Meredith, freedom was a cruel dream for Kirkwall’s Circle mages. They were often locked in their cells, watched night and day by templars who were told any step out of line was suspicious. All those young magelings, told that magic was a curse, that they were dangerous, and that they had to be shut indoors all their lives looking out through those windows. Some went mad. Others, mad or not, tried jumping.” And from First Enchanter Orsino’s entry in World of Thedas, vol. 2 (p. 195): “Every time a mage died by their own hand, Orsino would hear Maud’s final words to him: 'This is no life.’ The templars didn’t seem to care about the suicides. Most had the courtesy to say nothing at all, but some would snigger when they thought no one was listening. 'One less to worry about.’ ‘The only good mage is a dead mage.’ Orsino’s anger at the templars grew...” (Note that this began long before Orsino became first enchanter in 9:28, three years before the start of the game). It's also worth noting Knight-Captain Cullen Rutherford quite explicitly attained his position as second-in-command of the Kirkwall Templars position because of his anti-mage extremism, later including violence against those perceived as mage sympathizers and their families.

To name more specific abuses, the Gallows features whipping posts (with dialogue confirming the reliance on whipping) and multiple other medieval torture devices, including a rack, a pillory, and iron maidens. We also see numerous references to casual beatings, sexual assaults, forced Tranquility and facial branding, long-term confinement in dark cells, and permanent family separation (e.g., Emile du Launcet). Escape attempts are typically punished with summary execution, according to multiple sources (e.g., Ser Thrask, Ser Karras, Grace). According to Ser Thrask, the most sympathetic Templar (besides Carver), kindness to mages would be a "badge of shame" among among his colleagues. For more, I recommend checking out the “DA2 mage rights reference post” by @bubonickitten. Again, note that these are cruelties largely occurring prior to or during Act 1, long before Meredith started going insane due to Red Lyrium.

If Feynriel is forced into the Circle at the end of Wayward Son (Act 1), the ex-Templar Samson says, “I hear they got your boy Feynriel locked up in the Circle. Bad business, that. It ain't all templars that're bad. It's hard luck being born a robe, but most places, they make it work. That bitch Meredith runs the Order in this town like her private army. You don't toe the line, you end up on the next corner here in Darktown. I don't think you got to hate mages to love the Order. But Meredith don't agree.” Samson, it should be remembered, had been expelled from the Templar Order for passing love notes from the mage Maddox to his lover. For the crime of “corrupting the moral integrity of a templar,” Meredith ordered Maddox turned Tranquil. According to Cullen in Before the Dawn (DAI), “Knight-Commander Meredith wielded the brand for far lesser offences, believe me."

Ordinary citizens appear to be well aware of at least some of Meredith’s reign of terror in the Gallows, given that various NPCs (including some who do not personally know any inmates) will refer to it. During Tranquility (Act 1), for example, a mob of Ferelden refugees threatens the party over fears that the latter intend to turn in “The Healer of Darktown” to the Templars. One exclaims, "We know what happens to mages in this town. And it ain’t gonna happen to him." Moreover, the knowledge is sufficiently widespread as to have reached faraway countries. A note dated 9:35 (set between Acts 2-3) from a mage of the Hossberg Circle in the Anderfels expresses utter horror: “I have heard that in the Kirkwall Gallows, mages are locked in their cells with barely room to stretch, let alone exercise. I can promise you that any mage of the Anderfels would be stark raving mad after a week of such treatment... No wonder Kirkwall has such trouble with blood mages” (WoT v2, p. 173).

And through all of this, Meredith has the support of the Chantry and more specifically Grand Cleric Elthina.

Not only did Elthina appoint Meredith to her position in the first place (WoT v2, p. 193), but if asked her opinion on Meredith in Act 1, Elthina snaps, “Gossip is a sin, child. Knight-Commander Meredith has an admirable devotion to her duties. It is not my role to form opinions on her character.” An odd statement to make about a subordinate, since Meredith reports to her directly (as knight-commanders legally do to the nearest grand cleric). The codex for Knight-Commander Meredith confirms at as of the end of Act 2, “she enjoys the grand cleric's full support and has free rein in Kirkwall as the commander of its most powerful military force.” According to Elthina’s codex, many claim that Elthina “allows Knight-Commander Meredith more leeway with each passing year.” According to World of Thedas vol. 2, which tries to put a more positive spin on Elthina’s role, her detractors “say her stubborn refusal to exercise her Chantry-given authority allowed the conflict between the templars and mages to escalate, finally resulting in the disastrous mage rebellion of 9:37 Dragon... Since Elthina was loath to exploit her authority as grand cleric, she refused to order either the mages or templars to stand down when tensions flared. Many believe that she could have forced one side to retreat by showing her support for their position, but Elthina refused to take sides” (p. 196-197). This is at best an abdication of responsibility to dependents for someone intent on remaining in power.

Moreover, Elthina’s dominance over Kirkwall appears to depend in large part on at least appearing to manage Meredith and her troops. According to her codex, “People frequently turn to her to mediate disputes—particularly those involving the powerful Templar Order, over whom she holds authority as the Chantry's ranking representative.” So Meredith as military leader rules both the Circle and the city-state through fear and violence, while Elthina maintains her power by playing Good Cop to Meredith's Bad Cop. Both then maintain a pretense of legality and legitimacy by fronting Viscount Dumar as the public face of the regime.

And this dual-power system works quite well for them -- at least until Meredith starts losing her mind under the influence of the Red Lyrium idol.

[A link will later be provided for Part 2 on Escalation and Direct Rule. If I ever do get to it 😭😭😭]

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ellieslaces · 7 months

Text

CAN’T CATCH ME NOW. (prologue)

presenting: Umbrella’s Hunger Games

featuring: leon kennedy x fem!reader

synopsis: the Hunger Games, an annual show of brutal control the Capitol has over each of the twelve Districts. the Games’ number one sponsor: Umbrella Corporation, the creator of the Games’ most horrific torture strategies and nightmare inducing deaths. these games have always been cautionary, always a far away but constant threat — until you find yourself Reaped and thrown into an area full of your worst fears with 23 other Tributes, all out for blood.

content warnings (future): harsh language; heavy violence; gore; torture; heavy themes of murder; infanticide; social injustice; class discrimination; brief mention of suicidal thoughts; angst; character death; eventual smut; enemies to lovers

notes: this is inspired by the Hunger Games (no 1) and takes place in the universe; if topics such as violence murder infanticide etc trigger you, skip this series; the reader is said to be a Career Tribute

Chloe talks: posting a my prologue for my new Leon Hunger Games series before the next strike tomorrow! please enjoy, I’m convinced this will be my magnum opus :)

word count: 768 (it’s a prologue, so it’s short)

now playing: can’t catch me now ; olivia rodrigo

how you can help Palestine! 🇵🇸

Images of dark alleys, of scorching hot deserts, of raging icy tundras, of sickly beautiful yet dangerous forests haunted each child’s dreams. Not for any reason in particular other than the fact that the images were fed to them since birth. Spoon fed into their heads — the showings of each years annual Hunger Games.

Decades upon decades ago, the ocean swallowed nearly half the continent in a devastating and unprecedented tsunami. States and even smaller countries were lost to the depths of the sea, leaving the remaining forty percent of the country overflowed with a surplus of population.

Women, men, and children with nowhere to go, now crowded the north part of what once was the United States. Now twenty of the fifty states remained, thousands upon thousands of casualties, leaving too many for the forty percent of the country to support.

The government handled it with the worst of ideas, their support was lost, their lack of understanding and empathy led to an inevitable uprising. People stormed the gates of the White House, threatened to kill — and did kill — senators, and representatives, and judges, and even their families.

This uprising nearly destroyed the country as a whole. Thousands were slaughtered, bloodlines were destroyed, families killed by the rebels. Until a group of unknown power that had been hiding behind the scenes for decades stepped forward, taking control of the people. This led to a bloodbath of violence, political control, and the people finally were forced to accept their defeat.

From then, the country was divided into thirteen Districts, each with its own purpose of serving the new country’s Capitol. This new country — Panem — was run with a ruthless government, a controlling President with no mercy and a clever mind. He was cruel, and heartless, and as dangerous as he was calm.

No one dared to object him, no one dared to take his power for fear of the consequences. So, for decades, President Ozwell E. Spencer ran the country. His company — one he started long before he was elected as President — Umbrella was the sole sponsor and creator of the annual Hunger Games.

Where each spring, twenty four children between the ages of twelve and nineteen were picked at random by pairs to represent their District in a fight to the death.

One boy, one girl from each District, chosen by random to be plucked, and bathed, and painted, and paraded, and eventually murdered for the sake of entertainment. Once, these Games were a reminder of what revolution could do, how it could crumble a nation. But that notion was long gone, all that now remained was the entertainment value of their deaths. Deaths none of them deserved. Deaths you never imagined you’d actually witness, much less cause yourself.

The intricacies of these Games were lost upon you, all you knew was to survive. Despite being a so called ‘Career’ and had as close to luxury as you could for someone from one of the Districts, you hardly had the stomach to commit things such as murder. Much less upon other children, people your age.

District One, luxury items, riches, and favor of the Capitol itself. Careers, the title of the Tributes that were put into the Games each year. These Tributes were raised with advantage, raised with early training available to them. Available to you.

For the majority of your life, since you were able to understand what the Games meant, you’d been trained by Victors, the Redfield siblings. Chris and his sister, Claire, were once Tributes themselves, in consecutive years.

Chris Redfield won at nineteen with pure brutality, physical strength and power, partaking in the bloodbath and taking out a good majority of the other Tributes in the beginning. Chris’s Games lasted a mere week.

While Claire Redfield managed to outsmart each and every other Tribute in her arena, successfully becoming the Victor by simply waiting for them all to die by natural causes, or killing themselves with their own stupidity. Her Games lasted three, the ending of said Games pushed quickly to be brought to a conclusion. Leading the girl to become Victor at a mere thirteen.

So, despite the fact that you weren’t technically supposed to be trained by Mentors unless Reaped, the Redfield siblings trained you behind the curtain. They prepared you for the possibility of you being Reaped, of being subjected to the horrors they’d seen. To the murder they had to commit to stay alive. They wanted you to win, to have a chance of survival.

But, maybe they should have just let you die. Maybe they shouldn’t have taken you under their wing when they found you shivering in the rain after a school bully had taken your pack and shoes and jacket.

Maybe they should have just let you be killed. Then you wouldn’t have to live with the memory of him.

#can’t catch me now.#re2 leon #Leon Kennedy #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x fem reader #Leon Kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fanfic #Leon Kennedy fanfiction #hunger games #the hunger games #the hunger games au #resident evil 2 remake #resident evil au

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tw1nkee28 · 2 months

Text

No one asked for this, but I really needed to infodump about him to someone or I was gonna go insane.

˙⋆✮ Info about my CoD oc, 'Dawn'! ✮⋆˙

⚠️Warning!⚠️ There will be a lot of words and one image containing (mild) nudity below the cut. (A shirtless man, in case you are uncomfortable with such)

The first image is a reference for the finer details of his character such as his hairstyle, his facial details like his nose and eyes, and his major scars.

The second image is more of how I envisioned his body type, but I struggle with consistency and being able to convey some bodies in different angles and intricate poses.

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These are just some drawings I've made of his character as I was developing him.

While he is a rather calm individual, being stoic and silent most of the time, he does still get rather angry on the inside. Which is what I was trying to convey in the first image.

He respects his peers and superiors, but when they do legitimately stupid shit, he can and will rock their shit depending on how bad it was.

I've included this in his lore before but I am too nervous to share some of the finer details of his lore and will only be vaguely referencing it, sorry ☹️🫶

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I made a janky, very brief timeline of his career above.

Now, I haven't filed through complete details so some things such as his rank and experience in the field may or may not be entirely accurate with the time he was working especially since I made his character on the fly and did little to no research at first. Only now am I actually trying to expand his character and lore and am realizing I did not do nearly enough research. Most of this is just what I thought sounded nice at first.

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More in-detail information below ↓

Name: Julius Harper Aliases: Dawn, 7-28

Nationality: Filipino Ethnicity: Eastern Asian

Age: 32 DoB: June 19, 1992

Pronouns: He/Him Gender: Cis Man Sex: M

Sexuality: Unlabeled, prefers men

Height: 6'2

Languages: Tagalog, English, FSL (Filipino sign language, for Dusk)

Which CoD universe: Modern Warfare (ii)

Branches of Service: Marine Corps

Affiliation: Shadow Company

Specialities: hand to hand, a variety of front line infantry skills, long range, basic first aid

Personality: usually grumpy and quiet. switches between sassy, rude, and teasing(towards close people) and quiet, obedient, and stoic. He's technically a strong and silent type around most people, usually very distrusting and distant. He's very good at following orders unless they're outright stupid, then he'll put up a fight about them.

Backstory: (my attempt at being brief, sorry🙏) given to an (underground) training organization with unconventional training methods at a young age, was tortured and ridiculed for disobeying (his scars on his face and chest🫶), escaped with force when he was 17(nearly 18). Had to travel by himself to the US and rely on strangers to get him there (no money in his name).

Eventually joined the Marines at 20, met Dusk (his Colonel). Blah blah blah, went up the ranks. At 28 he dragged Dusk out of the field half exploded and left the Marines soon after Dusk did. Joined Shadow Company 🫶

Issues: PTSD, nightmares, paranoia, nervous at being touched randomly

Habits: never takes off his mask unless he's REALLY comfortable, sleeps with it on more often than not. Hovers close to people he likes cause he doesn't like to reach out and touch people, settling on subtle hands on shoulders or light brushes of skin. Watches and evaluates anyone and everyone in the same room as him, constantly searching for any red flags or threats.

Scars: One over each eye (resembling clown markings)

One running over his bottom lip and down his chin.

One running from his collar bone to below his navel.

A mix of bullet, knife, and other scars from his field work scattered over his arms and hands.

Preferred method of showing care/affection/love language: acts of service, quality time, ("secretly") physical touch.

Preferred way of receiving care/affection: words of affirmation, physical touch

Eye Color: left eye pale yellow with brown center, right eye green with yellow center. has heterochromia

Hair description: short and dusty brown with two streaks of early greying. Two long pieces in front of either ear, short in the back.

Clothing description: SC Uniform - beige tactical vest stocked with red and yellow(ish) glow sticks(?, I forgot the actual name for it), roll of thin rope, and three mags. Black, long-sleeve zip-neck shirt with the shadow company insignia on the sleeve. Black balaclava, black helmet and goggles with attachable headphones connected to comms. Black tactical cargo pants, black belt with two storage pouches attached at either side of his hips, and a right handed gun holster. Very dark brown/black combat boots.

Not in uniform - form fitting short-sleeve shirts and jeans most of the time. Occasionally switching it up for loose shirts when his compression shirts feel too tight and strangling for a casual day. He wears belts to at least make it seem like he cares about his outfits, even though he doesn't really put effort. Picking up whatever dark colored shirts and jeans he can find and calling it a day most of the time.

Body description: well-built Filipino man with hooded eyes. He has a bit of stubble along his jaw, forgetting to shave often. Freckles are speckled over his face, arms, neck and shoulders, and legs. Body hair over his chest, arms, and legs mainly. Occasionally lets other Shadows paint his nails when they ask (requests black but can't say no if they choose another) so sometimes has painted nails.

Favorite activities: sitting outside with nature, playing guitar, going to the bar with Dusk to spend time and catch up, reteaching Dusk guitar

Blood type: O

Favorite animal(s): Cats, snakes, birds in general

Favorite food/dessert: Pork Adobo, Graves' cooking (it's his guilty pleasure at cookouts, you can't convince me that Graves doesn't sit at a grill making food for his Shadows for a cookout on an off day)

• born in Marawi City; Mindanao, Philippines

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He's generally like a big dog that doesn't realize it's own size, like a great Dane of sorts. Protective, loyal to a fault with aggressive tendencies towards those he doesn't know/trust. Silent and strong, unless he's with someone close to him (very few people in his original universe, maybe two people at most. Though I do headcanon him to be relatively close with the Shadows and Graves in my shadow company AU, being more welcoming with touch and close proximity but still acting grumpy like he doesn't want it, despite enjoying every brush or touch of skin to his.)

He enjoys his quiet time and regular meets up with an old friend of his, back from his Marine days, the both of them learning electric guitar and playing together sometimes to loosen up.

He's a workaholic all in all, not having many hobbies or activities out side of his work.

He lives at base, having been out on the streets before starting his career in the military.

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He earned his scars on his face and chest when he was about 16-17, fleeing his state as soon as he was nearing 18 (lore reasons that I'm too nervous to share with people) and living on the streets with a lengthy theft history until he joined the Marines at 20 years old. Where he met his previously mentioned 'old friend', his Colonel, call sign 'Dusk'.

His shadow company number is 7-28. No I did not do research on the actual numbers, I just chose random ones that sounded nice on my tongue. Plus 28 is like,,, my number, if you couldn't tell by my user.

If anyone understands the number system better and would like to help me out by correcting me, I would appreciate that very much. But for now, it is Shadow 7-28.

His lore and titles were developed before I put him in Shadow Company canonically, so shit like him being a Lieutenant and other things that would require him to have years and years of experience to get would be from his career in the Marines before then. I'm assuming he would have to start fresh since he joined a new company? Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believeeee he'd have to start fresh with SC with things like titles.

He does still keep his old mask since Dusk helped him with it, but now he really only wears the shadow company uniform and gear. Swapping his plain black balaclava for his old one with the skull-like details when he's back at base relaxing.

Smaller details about him!! ↓

Favorite color - Green !!

Favorite activities - sitting outside with nature, playing guitar, going to the bar with his found-family Brother (Dusk) to spend time and catch up

Favorite animal - cats ! Specifically black cats (he feels they're misunderstood)

• HATES ships and deep water

• used to (attempt to) pick up stray cats he found on the streets and try to bring them home as a kid.

• doesn't like training new recruits but is always put in charge of training them because of his leadership skills. (This happened to me in band a long while back, apparently my teacher thought I was a 'silent leader' and was really good at leading others subconsciously even if I hated being a leader??? That's him, that's Dawn. Silent leader)

• has nightmares frequently

• will deny liking someone, going as far as saying he hates them even if as soon as they leave the room he smiles on the inside because, hey! Someone wants to be close to him! That's new!

• tried drawing once, it looked like a kids drawing. he never picked up a pencil to draw again

• has really nice handwriting?? Wtf???

• He's a lieutenant!!

• spent years training to be a sniper that he's now unnecessarily still and silent while working on smaller tasks that require even the slightest bit of focus such as paperwork.

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Info about 'Dusk' since he's a big part of their lore ↓

These are all the drawings I've done of him so far ↑

While I haven't gone deep into lore for him, I do have a few small facts about him that have played a part in Dawn's lore.

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• He is 6'3, standing only an inch taller than Dawn.

• he was Dawn's Colonel for most of their career before they joined Shadow Company.

• just before Dawn had left to join SC, Dusk had gotten caught too close to an explosion. Having been dragged back to the base by Dawn himself and after healing, was left with very little sight and hearing on his left side. He struggled to be able to do many tasks that he needed to be able to complete to keep his job afterwards and had to quit.

• he cut off his long hair after the explosion burned off a lot of his hair, being left with very little long hair left on his right side. He felt it looked odd and cut it off so it could regrow at its own pace. Some parts of his scalp on his left side having damaged the actual skin there making it very hard/impossible to regrow it in some patches.

• he started learning guitar before joining the military, having been the one who inspired Dawn to learn and having lent Dawn their first ever guitar.

• was the one who gave Dawn his callsign

• he's Filipino, one of the many traits he and Dawn bonded over

• acts as Dawn's older brother later on in their career together after years of knowing each other. He has two siblings at home while Dawn is an only child

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Fun fact! He was slightly based off of my older brother, named Dusk :)

While some parts of his character were based off of him, the name was surprisingly not, it just happened to match up with Dawn while I was making them 🫶

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If you couldn't tell, Dawn is my baby and my favorite OC. I love him very much and will probably expand on his lore and such at some point, but for now, this is what we have.

Thank you if you read all of this ❤️

#digital art #traditional art #oc art #cod oc #infodump #ranting #shadow company #shadow company oc #i love him #reference sheet #ive been really obsessed with him and i haven't had anyone to talk to about him since none of my friends really care much about my rants #Pampanope has been feeding into my obsession with SC and Graves which has fed into my obsession with Dawn #i really like making lore and stuff but like #i think this is the most ive ever put into a character #so sorry if you got jumpscared by words #Tw1nkee art♣️#Shadow 7-28 ♣️ (Dawn)

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tumblingxelian · 1 month

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Political Discourse - Retrospective

So, regarding some political discourse that happened on my blog earlier, I want to clarify some things.

1: Hyperbole doesn't translate well across text, this applies both to me and those I've spoken/argued with. Hyperbole doesn't translate well when one can't see the associated dramatic body language or tone that would serve to convey that.

2: Context is key, so if one does want to take issue with something its best to have all the pieces in place rather than expecting context clues to create a common frame of reference as it might in a verbal conversation.

3: Its much easier to just not bother and direct one's energy into more helpful and practical goals than arguing online.

On the more political front, I do have some thoughts however:

I am posting this in a good faith effort to not argue or antagonize:

Firstly, I feel that for all Americas horrifically out-sized influence on the world one cannot just dismiss domestic issues as unimportant. Even if we ignore the ripple effects of a right wing VS left wing president on a purely cultural level, the sheer number of queer people, women, and people of color who will be actively targeted if Trump gets back into power is staggering.

There is a marked difference between the parties on these fronts and people will live or die based on that. Let alone stuff like Trumps handling of Covid and how his intransigence basically fucked the rest of the world over, along with killing millions of Americans.

Basically, when the difference between the the parties of the most powerful nation on earth are so drastically different in terms of who even counts as human, being a one issue voter doesn’t really work as an ethical or even practical approach to politics —especially not addressing the kinds of issues making it hard to stomach voting for someone like Biden.

Secondly, I feel a lot of the discourse around the US & Israel's ties are not very helpful or accurate as they often seem to frame it as though they just became allies under Biden or otherwise that this is a new relationship. As it is, ties between the two countries are nearly a century old at this stage and disentangling from that is not easy.

What's more, a politically active American friend said that they feel a lot of Americans, themselves included, often oversimplify foreign policy and that it's never as simple as a good or bad decision.

In this case, America's main focus is trying to keep the war from going regional while not losing what influence they have over a nuclear equipped state in the Middle East.

(It was also notes how the messages of trying to "fight antisemitism" as opposed to just being blunt about the political realities was manipulative and poorly thought out at best.)

But the fact is, as horrific as what Israel is doing is, it's not something Biden just started supporting at random. America's ties are decades long and not easy to divest from without creating more instability and bloodshed in the long run.

So while I of course advocate for pushing for action on these fronts, its integral to both remember that foreign policy is a nightmare and that one will have far better luck using protest to force a Democratic president to change course than a GOP one who will just tell the police to shoot you.

Thirdly, I think its quite reasonable for none Americans to take an interest in these matters. Hell, I have been an activist for years, donating and campaigning on everything from America's forever war, to Palestinian rights, Queer rights both locally and internationally and beyond since childhood.

Add in that, even aside from morality, I've no shortage of friends in other nations who will be impacted by who is president and friends in America who are justly terrified of dying or having to flee the country should Trump get back in.

Put simply, I feel my and other none Americans persistent presence on the matter of who ends up in the White House can be regarded as selfish or coming from a place of privilege. We're asking you to vote because we can't and far more people will die and be hurt if Trump is in power, including yourselves.

We're trying to help.

Finally, I will not see eye to eye with other leftists, they will not see eye to eye with me. That's fine. Ultimately, though we disagree on how best energy should be directed for the common good, I don't think my counterparts, or I have ill intent or selfish motivations.

#Text post #Politics #usa politics #american politics #Vent post #Not exactly

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roanofarcc · 5 months

Text

PROJECT SUNSHINE CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN → MYSTERY INC.

summary: steve harrington x oc

when another product of Hawkins National Laboratory escaped a long-survived nightmare alongside her sister, she crashed into one unsuspecting teenage boy and dragged him deeper into the dark mysteries that made up their hometown.

word count. 1.7k || masterlist

warnings: cannon typical violence, child abuse, horror, gore, and depictions of mental illness. parts of this story were written pre-season 4 release. cannon divergence.

previous chapter ← → next chapter

Calum Miller stepped out of his best friend’s car and stretched his limbs. The winter air assaulted his face, and his old shoes squished in a pile of slush left on the curb. He cringed as his socks became wet and jumped onto the sidewalk.

“She was cute, Mara,” he said, continuing their conversation from the car. “Can’t you let a man wingman?”

With a roll of her eyes, Tamera slung her overnight bag over her shoulder. “Please, she was checking you out, not me.”

“Whatever, she was dud anyways.” They both knew that wasn’t entirely true. The girl who worked weekends at the movie theater was cute, but she was more Tamera’s type than his. “We’ll find you someone who doesn’t over-salt popcorn, don’t you worry.”

She laughed but cut herself off when her attention fell behind Calum, where his house sat. “Does your mom have company over?” Calum spun around quickly, nearly slipping on the icy sidewalk, and saw a series of shadowy figures that stood in the living room window. Calum couldn’t remember the last time his mother invited someone over, especially since his dad disappeared.

“I don’t-”

His mother’s silhouette threw her arms up in the air wildly. She yelled loud enough for Calum and Tamera to hear her outside and down the driveway. “Get out!”

Worry flooded Calum’s chest and he raced inside with Tamera hot on his heels. The door was unlocked, and he threw it open with enough force that the doorknob on the inside smacked against the wall hard enough to leave a scuff in the paint. A series of strangers stood in his living room. Two tall men with their hands paused mid-reach into the inside of their coats, dressed in black suits. A shorter man stood closest to Calum’s mother, who looked a little less threatening in a blue sweater and a khaki-colored coat that almost reached the floor.

“What’s going on?” Calum asked.

Shannon Miller looked on the verge of angry tears as she glared at the shorter man. “You really want to do this in front of my son?” A nearly empty bottle of wine was clutched in her hands and her words came out a little slurred.

The shorter man sighed and said, “Ma’am, please. I just want to have a conversation with you.”

Tamera stood beside Calum with a stony expression as her gaze flickered between the men like she was studying them. “Who are you?”

The shorter man extended his hand to Calum first, then Tamera. “I’m Dr. Owens. My friends here and I came to collect some old papers from your father’s office.”

At the mention of his dad, Calum felt a surge of hope spring through him. “My dad? Do you know where he is?” His hope was very quickly squished by the frown on Dr. Owen’s face, and the shake of the man’s head.

“No, son, I’m afraid I don’t. That’s why I’m here. He has a file here that we need to take back. I have a warrant to search his office.” He paused, flashing a piece of paper full of legal jargon that Calum didn’t understand. “Now, I understand he didn’t leave on the best of terms-”

Calum’s mom laughed dryly. She clutched her wine bottle to her chest and made no effort to wipe the runny makeup on her cheeks. Calum hadn’t seen his mom in that state for some time. Normally, when Calum came home, she was already passed out or locked in her room. Maybe that part of her he was missing; he didn’t like it. He needed his dad back to fix it and make their family whole again.

“He left because of you!” she yelled, swaying forward before Tamera caught her arm. More tears welled up in her eyes as confusion grew inside Calum.

Dr. Owens shook his head once more. “I didn’t know your husband. I’ve never met him. And, if I did know about his whereabouts, I wouldn’t be here asking you for help.” He turned to Calum. “I am going search his office and get what I need. But I would prefer to do that with your cooperation.”

It wasn’t like he could say no. Maybe whatever he needed was the key to finding his dad. “His office is down the hall, the last door on the left. But can I ask what you’re looking for, exactly?”

“I’m afraid I can’t disclose that information. But what I can tell you is that he was working on something very important and sensitive.” The man hobbled toward Calum, avoiding putting weight on one of his legs. He placed a warm hand on Calum’s shoulder and a scarily serious expression befell his face. “If there is anything you know about where your father might be, I need you to tell me.”

Calum wished he did. “I don’t know anything.”

“All right. Then, if you’ll excuse me, we’ll only be a moment.” The three of them disappeared into the home office.

Calum turned his attention to his mom, who fell back onto the couch and muttered something under her breath over and over. “Mom, what aren’t you telling me about dad?” What could warrant someone with a warrant coming into their house?

“He was a bastard,” Shannon whispered. “He was a bastard, but he wasn’t a monster.”

“Why would anyone think that?” Tamera asked, but Calum’s mom said nothing. She just shook her head and finished off her bottle of wine. The three stood in silence as they waited for the men to finish searching.

What could his dad have brought home that would be of such importance? Calum knew his dad worked for the government, but he never said much beyond that about his job. If his father was working on something, some file…oh. Oh, shit. Calum bit down on his lip to keep himself quiet.

Oh, he was in trouble.

A couple, of agonizing minutes later, Dr. Owens and the other men exited the office with a single box of papers. With a tight-lipped smile, Dr. Owens said, “Sorry for bothering you all. Have a nice night.” And then they left, just like that, with no further explanation.

Once the door was closed and their car pulled disappeared into the night, Calum looked to his best friend with the calmest expression he could muster under his growing panic. “Mara, come with me.” He didn’t wait for her to answer before he took off down the hall and into his bedroom. He made a beeline straight for his closet and dug through his highest shelf frantically.

“What the hell are you doin’? Are we not gonna talk about that dude? Or your mom’s freak out? What do you think they want from your dad?”

Calum’s fingers touched a smooth stack of folders, and he quickly pulled them down and brought them to his bed. He searched through them until he found one that was thicker than the rest and held it up. “This, I think.”

It took Tamera a moment to understand what he was saying, but when she did, her hand covered her mouth to muffle a surprised gasp. “Calum!”

He cut her off and took a seat on the bed, letting the unopened folder fall to his lap. “Hush! Listen to me. When my dad was still here, I would go into his office all of the time and borrow office supplies for school. I needed some folders for class, so I took a couple I found in a drawer of his desk. I used a couple and left the rest in my closet until I needed them again. I thought they all were empty, but when I was cleaning out my closet a few weeks ago, I looked at them again and realized one was bigger than the rest. So, I opened it. There were some fancy-looking documents inside that I didn’t read. I figured it was old paperwork or something. I don’t know! But the more I think about it…I have a feeling it might be what those dudes were looking for.”

He took a breath, drumming his fingers against the folder. “But the more I thought about the file, the more I wondered…I just had a weird feeling about it. I don’t know how to explain it. So, I flipped through a couple of pages of what looked like nonsense until I saw a page that had ‘classified’ written in huge letters across it. So, I stopped.”

Tamera rubbed her temples like all of the information was painfully entering her brain. He didn’t blame her; he was feeling the stress pulse behind his eyes. “And you think that file is why those dudes were here?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. It makes sense. Though, I don’t know how many classified documents my dad was hiding in his office."

There was a long pause, neither one of them quite sure of their next move. Calum had a feeling Tamera was going to tell him to call Dr. Owens back and hand the file over. That would be the right thing to do, maybe, but what if they thought Calum was somehow an accomplice or was trying to without evidence? He didn’t need any more trouble.

Much to his surprise, Tamera did the opposite of that. “Open it,” she said.

“What? Open it? Mara, there could be anything in here. We could get in, like, a shit-ton of trouble.”

She scoffed. “Oh, so now you’re worried about getting in trouble? This could be why your dad went missing. Whatever’s in the file could…” she trailed off, holding her head in her hands. “God, I can’t believe you sucked me into your bullshit investigation.”

“You think so?”

“I don’t know. But there’s only one way to find out.”

Calum hesitated, wondering if he should protest, but his curiosity got the best of him. He held his breath and flipped open the file, right past the ‘classified’ page.

Project 19-15-12-1-18

“Random numbers?” Tamera asked.

“Unlikely. It’s probably code for something.” He continued to flip, but quickly realized most of the information was redacted. Whatever was in the file, someone didn’t want anyone to see. Calum wondered what his dad knew about the information. Was he the one who redacted it, or was he trying to figure out what the blacked-out lines read?

He scanned the pages until he found a string of words that were on display.

July Twenty-Fifth, (redacted)…Project (redacted)...Test Subject Number 0-0-7…

Tag List. @sattlersquarry @leptitlu @echoing-oursong

#stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington x oc #steve harrington x original character #stranger things 2 #stranger things fanfiction #original character

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bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky · 2 years

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The Eras | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hi! This is a short, silly little thing about the Ticketmaster fiasco the other day. If you were in that queue all day, I feel your pain. Seven hours of queuing for Houston. I know this fic is niche but I simply do not care <3 also, lemme know if you got tickets! And what you plan to wear to the show!

What’s your favorite track from Midnights?

Warnings: Ticketmaster

“Any luck?” Bucky asked on the other end of the phone.

“Nope… still two thousand plus people ahead of me.” You poked at your sad lunch salad with your plastic fork, eyes glued to your laptop. “At least my boss is trying to get tickets too, that way I won’t get in trouble for getting nothing done today.”

Bucky let out a loud laugh, “I love that for you. And your boss. Is there-”

“It’s PAUSED?” you nearly threw your lunch across the room. “The queue is PAUSED!”

Bucky wasn’t accustomed to this new way of doing things. If he wanted to go to a show back in his day, he simply bought tickets at the venue. But this was a whole new beast. You had a plan, a strategy. The group text with Wanda and Nat fired constantly in the days leading up to the presale, turning your phone into a war room.

“What? Why is it paused?”

“It says it ‘should be back up and running shortly’,” you sighed, “and that to keep my place in line, I can’t refresh or close my browser.” The disappointed groan that pushed its way out of your throat broke Bucky’s heart. He heard you clicking and typing on the other end of the line, no doubt conferring with the group text.

“This kind of seems like a disaster…” He didn’t want to make things any worse than they already were, but he hated when you were upset. You’d looked forward to this- gotten your presale code, received boosts. And yet, you sat in a paused queue with no end in sight.

“Oh, it is. Ticketmaster is the worst.” You gave a harsh stab with your plastic fork and speared a piece of romaine, punctuating your sentence. “It’s owned by this company Live Nation- it’s basically a monopoly.”

“But you’re guaranteed tickets, right?” he asked, sounding almost on edge. “Cause you got the code thingy? That’s how this works, right? The code ensures that you get the tickets?”

“Nope. That’s just to get into the presale, but they don’t require a code to get in the queue, so… I’m not sure there’s even a point to those codes.”

Bucky rolled his eyes at the inefficient and deeply flawed system. “Oh. That’s… really annoying. And confusing. They should explain the rules better.”

You gave him a laugh, “yeah, well, all they care about is making money.”

Bucky could practically see you- sitting at your desk, shoulders slumped, lunch half eaten, computer stuck in a paused queue. “I’m sorry, doll.”

You made a few more stabs at your wilted lettuce before giving it up all together. “And apparently ticket prices are nuts. Like, floor seats are selling for over a thousand dollars. My friend got seats in section C for the Dallas show, and he paid a thousand and twenty-eight dollars for each of them.”

“Oh, fuck.”

“Yeah…” you let out a sigh. “I’m so disappointed. I mean, I saw on Twitter that even nosebleeds are in the two-fifty range now. I know there’s way worse things in the world, but I was really looking forward to this- I’ve been saving for such a long time. I thought I was gonna get to see her in person, you know?” Bucky could hear the frown in your voice. “But between the queue and the prices, I just don’t think it’s gonna happen.”

“You never know, doll,” Bucky did his best to lighten the mood. “Don’t give up. Just keep the queue open on your computer and try to focus on other things, okay?”

You agreed to his terms and the two of you hung up, leaving you alone with your Ticketmaster nightmare.

That evening, Bucky waited by the door for you to come home. He stood so close, in fact, that you almost hit him with it. “Hey, baby! How was your day?” He was nearly vibrating with a strange energy you’d never seen from him before.

“It was terrible…” you sighed. “I was in the queue for seven hours. And when I finally got to the presale, tickets were unfathomably expensive. Even if I could afford them, every seat I picked disappeared. I got constant error notices and never even got one single ticket into my cart. It sucked.”

Bucky gave you a tight squeeze, so tight you could hardly breathe. “That’s terrible, doll. I’m so sorry you didn’t get tickets…” He released you suddenly, allowing your chest to expand. “But I’m actually glad you didn’t buy any.”

His words came as a surprise. He was always supportive, no matter how silly your venture. He knew how badly you wanted to go to the concert- why he celebrated your defeat was unknown.

“Oh. That’s…. ouch, Buck. I know I’m kind of annoying about how much I love her music, but-”

“No, no- I’m happy you didn’t get any,” he said, “because I got them for you.”

His words didn’t register. You stared at him, mouth agape, as the gears in your mind spun into overdrive. “I don’t… what? How?”

“He might be an ass, but Tony’s good for some stuff,” Bucky laughed. “I asked him to help me- and he said no. We both know he hates my guts. But when I said it was for you, he immediately agreed.”

“You asked Tony?” Bucky didn’t speak to Tony. Ever. Not since Siberia. But he’d broken his sworn vow against Tony. Just for you.

Bucky retrieved his laptop from the kitchen table, “I signed up last week just in case you didn’t get verified. But you did… and then I got a text late last night with a presale code. So, I thought I’d hop on the presale too just in case you couldn’t get tickets.” He turned the computer your way and showed you the screen, “according to this, my account is still stuck in the queue…”

You eyed the screen and saw the long line you stared at all day, “but if you’re still in the queue, how did you-”

Bucky scoffed, “Ticketmaster is no match for Stark tech, sweetheart. Tony found a way around the queue, grabbed three floor seats, and got outta there. Used some of that Iron Man money for good.” He shut the computer and tucked it under his arm, “and now, there are three floor seats linked to your account. You got the VIP package, preferred parking- all the bells and whistles.”

“Shut. Up.”

“Oh, and Stark told me to tell you…” he opened his computer once again and found an email from Tony. “And I quote: You’re too good for this idiot, but at least he’s resourceful. Have a great time at the show, kid.”

You launched yourself into Bucky’s arms, almost sending his laptop clattering to the floor. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! Oh my god, Buck. You’re amazing- you’re the best!”

Bucky, always humble, did his best to duck your praises. “Well, Tony’s the one who got ‘em. I just called him and-”

“But it was your idea! And you entered for the presale just in case- you sat in the queue all day!”

Bucky’s cheeks turned a rosy shade of pink. “I just wanted you to see your girl. I know Taylor’s you’re favorite.”

“No, you’re my favorite,” you said, dropping a deep kiss to his lips. “Oh- I have to call Wanda! And Nat! And- wait, you didn’t ask Tony to get a ticket for you?”

Bucky shook his head, “Doll, this is your thing with your friends. I don’t want you to feel like you have to keep an eye on me all night; I want you to give all your attention to Taylor-” He laughed his own words, “as though I have to tell you to give her your attention.”

He dotted kisses all over your face and chuckled as you thanked him time and time again. “You’re more than welcome. All I ever want is for you to be happy, sweetheart. Go call your friends and let ‘em know.”

You rifled through your bag and found your phone, an unstoppable smile plastered across your face all the while. But before you could run off to tell Nat and Wanda the good news, you took Bucky’s face in your hands.

“Just so you know, Buck, this is the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever done for me. I mean, getting the tickets is amazing. But signing up for the code just in case, sitting in the queue for me- you’re so sweet.” He blushed once again, still not used to your praise. “And obviously, it helps that you were able to get me floor seats, but I’d be just as appreciative if I came home to no tickets. Cause floor seats or no floor seats, you’re all I want.”

“Well I guess you’re lucky then,” he laughed, “cause you got me and floor seats.”

“Truly, what else could a girl want?” you asked.

“Backstage passes?”

“Yeah, you know I was incredibly grateful and touched that you did this for me-” you joked. “But no backstage passes? Lame.”

Bucky rolled his eyes at you and swatted you on the ass, banishing you to go call your friends.

He’d done a lot of bad in his life. Even if it wasn’t his fault, he’d hurt people. But knowing that he’d done something so meaningful for you eased his mind.

All he wanted for the rest of his days was to see you smile like that. He didn’t care if he had to team up with Tony every week and get you exorbitantly priced concert tickets- he’d do it. He’d do anything for you.

————————————-

Tag list: @beefybuckrrito @shadytalementality @everything-burns-down @rainbow-unicorn-pony @mandersshow @breakablebarnes @psychoticmason @glxwingrxse @deepsketchsupernaturalcowboy @mrsdrysdale18 @lonewolf471 @dreamerglassesgirl l @the-gods-gloted-but-they-burned @purpleshallot @duchessoftheheart @seitmai @itvy5601 @hisxsoulmate @dailyreverie @navs-bhat @eviesaurusrex @themorningsunshine @masteroflightningz @evangeliamerryll @buckys-metal-arm @broadwaybabe18 @the-kestrels-feather @avocadotoastwithegg @goldylions @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @vrittivsanghavi @idkitsem @avengetheunnatural @rassvetsky

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atlabeth · 2 years

Text

everything happens for a reason part 19 - zuko x fem!reader

Can we go back to the world we had? With a love so sweet it makes me sad

part 18 | masterlist | part 20

a/n: this is kinda the filler before a very important chapter but it does reestablish yn with her friends and explores some of her trauma from the past couple of months so that's also important. we're moving away from the angst a little bit though so that's good right lmao

wc: 7k (holy shit we're almost at 100k)

warning(s): some more angst (both normal and zuko related), discussions of trauma, a lil bit of fluff

chapter title comes from 1965 by zella day! (a song that i think fits this part of their relationship shockingly well)

When Y/N woke up in the middle of the night, it was in a cold sweat, barely able to bite back the rising scream.

She looked around her room with wild eyes, her surroundings not registering in her mind for the first few fearful moments. She was used to the claustrophobia of four walls, a space that got smaller every time she thought of it. She was used to a dryness in the air that left her permanently parched, to an unbearable tension that was drawn tighter with each passing day, to the constant paranoia that plagued her mind more and more, wondering if her next moment would be when her luck finally ran out.

But she wasn’t there. She wasn’t back in the Fire Nation, and she wasn’t in that sorry excuse for a cell in the Boiling Rock.

She was at the Western Air Temple. She was reunited with her friends, and she was safe.

Y/N let out a long, deep breath as she tried to ground herself again. She was no stranger to nightmares, but it looked like she was getting an opportunity to become even more familiar with them.

(The spirits certainly had enough material for her, she thought wryly.)

It was then that she heard the shifting of sheets, and she looked over to see Katara stirring with a yawn.

“Oh, spirits,” she said, “I’m so sorry for waking you up.”

Katara shook her head as she rubbed her eyes. “No—no, you’re fine. I’ve just been an early riser for the past month or so.”

“I totally woke you up,” Y/N muttered.

She offered a small smile. “Maybe you did, but it’s not like I care. You can wake me up ten times a night for the rest of my life and I’d be fine with it—Y/N, you’ve been gone for months, and now we’re back together. That’s all that matters to me.”

Her eyes softened, and she felt a warmth in her chest that she’d dearly missed. “Katara… you don’t know how much it means being back here. Not just here, but here.” Y/N gestured around the room. “Letting me stay here with you. I know you probably like your privacy after sharing a room all your life, so I really appreciate it.”

“Are you kidding me?” Katara laughed as she sat up in her bed, but when she looked at Y/N her gaze was completely earnest. “I didn’t know if I was ever going to see you again. When you were gone, I wished I was able to have nights like these again—you don’t even know how much I missed our little sleepovers.”

Y/N chuckled. “I missed them a lot too.”

“Exactly,” she nodded. “So you don’t have to apologize for taking up space. Because—” Katara shook her head, her smile fading a bit as it all came back— “because I missed you. We all did.”

Katara’s words were enough to make her cry—and she nearly did, turning away slightly to wipe away the tears that had welled up.

The first night that Y/N spent on her own did not go well. She’d spent so long in isolation, first in the palace prisons and then at the Boiling Rock, that she thought it would just be natural. But now that all of her energy wasn’t purely spent on survival, she had way too much of it to go towards nightmares.

It had gone on like that for the next three days—she didn’t want to bother her friends, especially after they’d already gone through so much for her—and so she spent the nights trying to sleep, then acting as if she wasn’t exhausted the rest of the day after waking prematurely from creations of her own mind.

Of course, her friends were more attentive than she gave them credit for, and on the fourth day Katara pulled her aside and demanded to know what was wrong. When Y/N reluctantly admitted that she was having trouble sleeping alone because of nightmares, Katara instantly offered her room up.

It was honestly a relief, not having to be on her own. Even the soft ambiance of Katara’s steady breathing was like music to her ears, the knowledge that she wasn’t alone anymore. It was overwhelming.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” she asked tentatively. “Obviously only if you’re okay with it, but… I’ve found that talking things like this out usually helps.”

“It’s just prison stuff,” Y/N said, trying to brush it off. “I don’t want to bother you with it.”

Katara frowned. “‘Just prison stuff’. You know, that’s not a normal thing to say.”

“I guess not,” she said dryly.

“What you’ve been through…” she shook her head. “It’s horrible, Y/N, and I’m so glad that you’re finally out of it. If you’re not ready to talk about it, that’s completely fine. But just know that you could never bother me, and I’m here for you. Always.”

She smiled and nodded. Those words meant more to her than Katara knew. “Thank you. Really.”

“Of course,” Katara said with a smile of her own. She ran her fingers through her hair a bit to fix some of its unruliness, then stood up and stretched her arms. “Now, whaddya say we start our day?”

“I’d say that’s a pretty good idea.”

Zuko sighed as he watched Y/N, Katara, and Suki from a distance; they were all talking and laughing together over some rice bowls. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Y/N’s grin, the sound of her laughter—he didn’t realize how much he’d missed it until he no longer had it.

She never directed that happiness towards him. Not anymore. And as much as it hurt him, he couldn’t do a single thing about it. Spirits, he deserved the cold shoulder—he was lucky she put it aside for their escape; otherwise, his fight against his sister might’ve gone differently.

“I’m ready to get back to my lessons, Sifu Hotman!”

He turned around to see Aang walking towards him, stretching out his arms. It was still strange at moments, teaching him after so many months spent trying to capture him. Zuko was thankful beyond belief for his graciousness.

The Avatar had been a wonderful student since their visit to the Sun Warriors, and though he still had some worries, his natural talent on its own was incredible to work with.

But he was also a very good observer.

He must not have even realized it, but he couldn’t help glancing back over at the girls, still talking and laughing together. Y/N’s smile was especially big, and it was still one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen. Zuko’s heart twisted painfully, knowing that he was the reason so much of it was taken away from her.

They would really never be the same again. And he was to blame for it all.

“Maybe lessons can wait,” Aang said thoughtfully. “You’ve got other things on your mind.”

Zuko’s attention immediately snapped back over to the Avatar, and he scowled. “Lessons can’t just wait. We’re on a schedule.”

“You’re obviously not focused.” Aang looked over at the three girls and then back at Zuko. “It’s Y/N, isn’t it?”

Zuko’s frown deepened and he turned away. “No.”

“How do you expect to fix anything with her if you can’t even admit that you’re thinking about her?” Aang walked over and sat down next to him, crossing his legs as he leaned forward. “You hurt her a lot, Zuko, but it’s obvious that she still cares about you.”

“How can you be so sure?” he asked, staring at the ground. “I betrayed her completely. I’m the reason she was in prison for so long. I— I told her I never loved her.” Zuko looked at Aang, and his eyes held a deep, desperate kind of pain. “I’m the one that broke her. How could she possibly want my help to put herself back together?”

“I don’t know,” Aang admitted. “I’m not saying it’s going to be easy, or that it’s instantly going to happen. She needs time to heal and work through everything, and it’s possible that she won’t want anything to do with you for a long time. But you can’t give up on the things you love.”

“I do love her,” Zuko murmured. “More than anything.”

“Then you’ll be able to figure it out. It’ll take a lot of time and a lot of hard work, but I have a feeling you’ll end up getting through it together.”

Zuko looked back at Aang, his brow slightly creased. “How do you always know what to say?”

He smiled and shrugged. “Call it Avatar wisdom.”

“...Right.”

Aang chuckled a bit and stood up. “Are you okay to train today, or do you need some time off?”

Zuko scowled and stood up as well, his worries temporarily ceased. “I’m the one teaching you, not the other way around. You’re not the one to give me breaks.”

“There he is,” Aang smiled. “Good ol’ Sifu Hotman’s back.”

He crossed his arms. “I’m fine to train today. Start with twenty hot squats.”

His smile disappeared just as quickly he groaned. “Really, Zuko? I give you amazing advice and you repay me with this?”

“Do you want to get better at firebending or not?”

“Of course I do,” Aang said begrudgingly.

“Then your warmups are important,” Zuko said. “The last thing the world needs is for the Avatar to pull a hamstring when he’s fighting the Fire Lord.”

Aang heaved a sigh and put some distance between them to start his exercise. As he did, Zuko’s mind acted almost on its own as his gaze wandered back over to the girls.

To his surprise, when he looked over, he met Y/N’s eyes rather than her back. She had been watching him too, even if just for a second.

His eyes widened and his lips parted, trying to find the words to say anything, but just as quickly as their gazes had met, she averted contact.

But she had looked.

And to Zuko, that was hope.

Katara set the bucket down on the edge of the fountain and tapped the sides of it before turning to look at Y/N. “Alright. The same thing as last night. Are you ready to try again?”

“You know it’s going to be the same thing,” Y/N said quietly. “Why do you keep trying?”

“Because I’m not just going to accept that your bending is gone,” Katara stated. “And I refuse to let you give up on yourself like this.”

“But I’ve tried so many times before this,” she insisted. “My bending is gone, Katara, and it’s been gone since I was imprisoned in the Fire Nation. It doesn’t matter how hard I concentrate or how positive you are, it’s not going to work.”

There was a mix of emotions in Katara’s blue eyes, understanding and sadness and frustration all mingling as she tried to think of something to say. Y/N was trying to push her friend’s buttons—for what reason, she didn’t exactly know—but she just smiled.

“Not with that attitude,” she said. “Now, come on. Just like we learned in the North. Close your eyes.”

She looked down at her hands and flexed her fingers, the familiar power that used to flow through her completely absent. The surfaces were marred by rough calluses and small scars, a blended canvas that now represented both her journey across the Earth Kingdom and her imprisonment by the Fire Nation. While she usually wrapped bandages around her wrists and palms—the action had become a sort of comfort ever since she started doing it to protect her hands on her journey through the Earth Kingdom—Katara had insisted she remove them so as to remove any possible impediments. She was no longer a master, she was the lowest of students, and they were starting from the very beginning.

It was humiliating. If it weren’t for the fact that Katara was her teacher yet again, Y/N wouldn’t have been cooperating half as well.

“Close your eyes,” Katara repeated. “I know you don’t want to do this, but it’s worth another shot.”

“Did you get even bossier while I was gone?” Y/N asked jokingly, though she still closed her eyes.

“Someone had to keep the boys in check,” Katara responded, and she was able to hear her smile. “Now, take a deep breath in and let it out. Try and relax; loosen up.”

Relax. It was far easier said than done, especially when she didn’t think she had relaxed for a single moment the past couple of months. She was on the brink of death in the Fire Nation, was constantly on edge in the Boiling Rock—it took a good hour of flight on the airship for her to be able to settle down, and even that was after investigating the entire place to make sure there weren’t any Fire Nation hitchhikers.

Prison had changed her. And Y/N was terrified her friends wouldn’t like who she was forced to become.

“You’re not relaxing,” Katara said, interrupting her thoughts.

“I am!”

“No, you’re not.”

“Well— I’m trying.” Y/N opened her eyes to see Katara looking at her with soft eyes. “It’s just not working. It’s not going to work.”

“It’s okay, Y/N,” she said. “I know this is frustrating. I… I don’t even know where I would start if I suddenly lost my bending. But you have to take it slow. Waterbending doesn’t work when you’re tense; you know that.”

“Waterbending doesn’t work when you’ve lost your bending,” she retorted, her words coming out a bit more forceful than she wanted. “Warmups for children aren’t going to help with anything.”

“Just humor me.” She moved her hand through the air slowly, pulling a stream of water from the fountain, then brought it down so that the small orb settled into the bucket she’d set down earlier. “Like you’ve done a million times before.” Katara’s expression was completely earnest, patient despite her continuous resistance. “Please?”

“...Fine,” Y/N conceded. “But I already told you, it’s not going to work.”

She closed her eyes again and took in a deep breath, memories of her very first waterbending lessons coming back to her.

The memory didn’t stem from the North with her healing teachers, or the royal palace with Master Rika—it came from the village she grew up in, sitting beside her mother by the river as she formed her very first water orb.

She remembered the brightness of her mother’s eyes, blue as the river that gave her power, the excitement in her claps and cheers as she took the first step in a lifelong journey. She remembered the cool air on her bare arms, the way the grass tickled her feet. She remembered the serenity of it all, the joy an inherent part of five-year-old Y/N’s life—she still had four years before it would all fall apart around her.

She took in a deep breath then slowly let it out, drawing on the memory as she tried her best to enter a calm headspace. She opened her eyes, focusing on the way the water streamed through the fountain, the way she could manipulate it in the same way.

Y/N flexed her fingers, raised her hand, and moved it through the air.

Nothing happened.

The moment that had been created was broken in an instant, and though Katara tried not to show anything, Y/N could see the brightness in her expression fade.

Katara just wanted what was best for her, to try and help her through an impossible experience, but it was fruitless. All it did was serve to make her feel even more useless.

More broken.

She let her hand fall down to her side and swallowed the sudden lump in her throat, offering a mirthless smile to Katara. “Just like I told you. It won’t work.”

“Y/N, wait!”

But she had already turned around and set off on her own path, already trying to think of places no one could find her. She wanted to be alone, desperate for the one thing she’d grown to hate, because she couldn’t stand to see the look on her best friend’s face when she realized that her lack of bending wasn’t the only thing that had changed in her absence.

Y/N just barely managed to choke back a frustrated sob, screwing her eyes shut as she slammed her fists against the hard, unyielding stone of the wall she’d ended up at. Her emotions desperately needed an outlet, and now that she was alone she allowed the tears to stream down her face as she turned and slid against the wall until she hit the ground.

She knew her bending didn’t work. She knew it was gone, and it would be gone until she could figure out what in Kuruk’s name was wrong with her.

So why did she actually feel hope when Katara asked her to try again with all the conviction in the world? Why did she actually feel hope when the memory of her mother teaching her to bend came back?

Y/N didn’t know why she still felt hope at all.

She was having the world’s worst pity party for herself, letting more water she couldn’t bend trail down her cheeks and drip into a puddle on the ground, when she heard footsteps. She immediately brushed them away and tried to compose herself when she saw who it really was.

“Go away,” she said miserably as she fell back against the wall, the effort not even worth it. “I can’t deal with you right now, Zuko.”

He was silent for a moment, his eyes slightly wide as he stood there not knowing what to do. “Agni’s flames, are— are you okay?”

“Do I look okay?” she snapped. “I don’t need a therapy session. Go away.”

“No,” Zuko stated, and she had to admit, that shocked her.

“No?” she repeated.

“I’m not leaving you alone like this,” he said. “Not… not anymore.”

Y/N huffed a mirthless laugh. “Well, aren’t you just the greatest guy around.”

“I’m trying.” He was surprisingly earnest, surprisingly level in the face of her annoyance. It was in stark contrast to the Zuko in the prisons, the Zuko that denounced her without a second thought, but it was obvious that he was beginning to unravel. “I know I’m not perfect—spirits, I’m farthest thing from it—but I’m trying, Y/N. I’m trying to become better, and fix everything that I messed up, and—” he ran a frustrated hand through his hair— “and I just don’t know what else to do. I— I’ll do anything for you, Y/N, so what can I do to help you get through all this?”

“Unless you have a way of giving me the months back that I lost or undoing all the pain you caused me, then there’s nothing you can do.”

“How can there be nothing?” he exclaimed, wild desperation in his voice. “I— I can see that you’re hurting, everyone can see it, so there can’t just be nothing. You can’t just keep going on like this, you’re going to destroy yourself.”

“And when did you become the expert on all of this?” she asked, rising from the ground as she turned her fire fully on him. “I mean, you know a lot about destroying me, but what makes you think you know anything about this?”

“Because I went through it too,” he said, trying to cover up his wince from her remark. “I— I went through the worst turmoil I’ve ever experienced back in the Fire Nation. I gave up everything for a life I didn’t want, and I was destroying myself the same way you are because I couldn’t figure out how to get better. And…” Zuko sighed and he looked right at her, “and the thought of you was what brought me out of it. You were what made me realize I had to change. So it’s only right that I help you. It—” he swallowed the lump in his throat— “it’s the least I can do to make it all up to you.”

“You can’t begin to imagine what I went through,” she retorted, the red-hot anger simmering inside her about to boil over. “I was alone for weeks, Zuko, with only my mind to keep me company. Getting transferred to the Boiling Rock was a death sentence in itself, and if it hadn’t been Suki, I might not have even lasted long enough for Sokka to get there! Spirits, I was on the edge of death for months, wondering if I would ever see the people I love again, and you were living it up as the Crown Prince! You will never understand what I went through!”

“I wasn’t living it up!” Zuko’s voice rose now as well, his temper winning out. “The moment the fight was over, the moment you were taken away from the catacombs, I started doubting it all. I was walking on glass everywhere in the Fire Nation—none of the generals trusted me, all the servants were terrified when they were around me, and half the nation still saw me as a traitor. I couldn’t go a single second without thinking about how I had made the wrong decision— I was dying too, Y/N. I was barely eating or sleeping, and I knew my father was waiting for me to make a mistake so he could throw me out again. I mean,” he huffed a mirthless laugh, “he tried to kill me when I confronted him during the eclipse. I wasn’t living any kind of life.”

She went silent at that, and as much as she tried to prevent it, she couldn’t help but feel sympathy for him. He’d been tearing himself apart at the seams, more with every passing day. He, too, was an enemy in the Fire Nation, masquerading as a prince rather than actually bearing the title. His own father attempted to kill him when he tried to do the right thing.

“And I thought of you,” he said shakily, “I thought of you every single day. I think you were the only thing that got me through it all. My love for you got me through it all.”

And he loved her.

Still.

“So why do we have to argue like this?” Zuko asked desperately, and there was a sudden glimmer in his eyes, telling of tears. “Spirits, Y/N, all I want is to go back to what we had. I—” his voice broke for a moment, and he had to glance away— “I just want to be with you again. I want that more than anything.”

Zuko’s words were so genuine, so painstakingly soft that it would’ve been easy to believe them. The naive part of her, the side that trusted him again and again despite everything, wanted to believe them, to put aside all the anger and hurt festering inside of her and just let it go. It would’ve been easy to believe them. It would’ve been easy to give in.

But she couldn’t. She could never forget what he did.

“Because you’re the reason my bending is gone,” she said coldly.

His eyes widened at that, and she took a sick sense of pride in the instinctive step he took back. “...What?”

“It’s gone because of you,” she repeated angrily. “What you told me, about how you got your own bending back and how you lost it in the first place—I realized pretty quickly that you were the reason my bending disappeared. I mean,” she laughed, but it was completely hollow, “it wasn’t just a coincidence that I lost it after I was thrown in prison.” She looked him dead in the eye. “That I lost it after you betrayed me.”

“That— that doesn’t make sense,” he stammered. “When I lost mine, it was because my anger towards the Avatar wasn’t there anymore to fuel my bending—”

“And I lost mine because every bit of my freedom was taken away from me,” she replied smoothly. “Waterbending is about flexibility, about adapting—I went from exploring the whole world to being trapped in a jail cell. I’d say that’s the opposite of flexibility.”

“You know how to fix it, then,” Zuko said. “What do you need to do? How can I help?”

“I don’t need your help,” she clipped. “Besides. I don’t think I’m going to be getting my bending back anytime soon.”

He frowned. “What? Why? You know why it’s gone, why—”

“I have to forgive you to get my bending back,” she interrupted stiffly, and Zuko froze completely. “And I will never forgive you for what you did to me.”

The tension didn’t leave with her as she walked past him, so thick it could be cut with a knife. Zuko felt a lump building in his throat as his eyes burned, and he blinked back the tears that he didn’t deserve to let fall. He couldn’t help but watch her go, but it just hurt him even more.

Because when she walked away, she didn’t look back.

After leaving Zuko, Y/N had busied herself with various things until nightfall, and thankfully, she was left alone. She felt awful for how she had treated Katara earlier, but she just didn’t know how to explain any of it. She must’ve known she needed space, because most of the day was spent with everyone doing their own thing. Y/N mainly spent it alone, washing clothes and mending wear and tear, and exploring the air temple.

It was beautiful, all the space almost overwhelming after her surroundings for the past few months. She tried her best to stay in the moment as she walked around, determined not to let her own thoughts ruin her afternoon more than she already had.

(It was getting hard, fighting herself like that all the time.

And it was more than a little scary, that so much of what she felt was anger.)

But day had turned to night, and with it, misgivings had been set aside if only for a moment. The group was gathered in a loose circle around the atrium, and the mood had, temporarily, been brought back up as Sokka told stories recounting everything Y/N had missed. She sat between Hakoda and Suki, and if there was one thing more amusing than learning about everything she had been absent for, it was seeing the reactions of his girlfriend and his father.

(“I can’t believe that plan worked,” Suki muttered in begrudging admiration after learning about the time Aang got himself in trouble at a Fire Nation school.

"What can I say?" Sokka grinned. "I'm a genius.")

(“You did what to a Fire Nation factory?” Hakoda marveled, staring at his daughter in disbelief.

“...We blew it up?” she said hesitantly.

Hakoda grinned. “You are definitely my daughter.”)

(“Bloodbending?” Y/N’s eyes widened to the size of plates at the horrific story. “That’s a thing we can do?”

“Only on a full moon, and only the strongest waterbenders.” Katara spoke quietly. “I have no doubt you could do it, but I don’t think you want to. It’s… it’s horrible.”

She decided to leave the topic there.)

(“You and Toph got thrown in jail?” Y/N chuckled. “Guess I was actually with you guys all along.”

Katara frowned. “You went through terrible conditions for months. You thought you were going to die there. That’s not funny.”

“Oh, so I go through all of that and I’m not even allowed to joke about it?”)

(“You learned sword fighting from a Fire Nation master?” Suki grinned. “Impressive, Sokka.”

“Yup,” he responded, and he flexed a bicep. “I’m pretty much a master myself, now.”

“Now you actually stand a chance when we spar,” she mused.)

Their conversation finally came to a head when Sokka got to the day of the invasion.

“It was incredible!” he exclaimed. “So many people that we had met along our journey came back and helped us invade the Fire Nation.” He looked at Y/N. “I wish you could’ve been there just so you could have worked with us. It was beautiful.”

She smiled wistfully. “I wish I could’ve been there too. I mean, after they kept us inside the prison all day I wanted to fight someone.”

Katara chuckled, but it led into a sigh. “It was a great invasion; it should’ve gone flawlessly. But somehow the Fire Nation already knew about it—if they didn’t, I know we would have succeeded.”

“It was probably my sister,” Zuko muttered. “Somehow, she always knows exactly what’s going on. I wouldn’t be surprised if she figured it out and told our father.”

“Azula,” Sokka grumbled. “You know, I have some things I’d like to say to her, Zuko. She has been a pain in my side ever since—”

“Stop,” Toph said suddenly.

He frowned. “I deserve to rant, I’m not—”

“Stop!” she repeated, and she held out her hands as she stood up. “Do you guys hear that?”

Y/N didn’t hear anything. But Aang stood up and grabbed his staff, and he’d only taken a few steps forward before a projectile came flying towards them.

Aang acted immediately, using his airbending to launch it away. They all stared in the distance, completely wide-eyed, and hardly a moment later it exploded.

“We’re under attack!” Sokka yelled, and he immediately jumped up from his spot. “Everyone, gather your things—we gotta get out of here!”

Haru nodded, already starting to help Teo back into his wheelchair. Alongside The Duke and Chit Sang, they began to pack up camp faster than ever before.

“Who could have found us out here?” Toph asked.

“Who do you think?” Zuko said angrily, cracking his knuckles as he stood up.

Three Fire Nation airships rose out of the abyss, shooting more and more bombs. Their target wasn’t them, but rather the infrastructure itself. The Western Air Temple was centuries old—it wouldn’t stand up against modern Fire Nation technology. And when it went down, all of them would go down with it.

Aang did his best, using his airbending to repel bombs wherever he could, but he was only one boy. The temple started crumbling around them, and Aang harnessed a wave of airbending to force the metal doors surrounding the atrium shut.

“It’ll buy us some time,” he said, turning to face the rest of them, “but we need to get out, now!”

Y/N nodded and stood up, when all of a sudden she heard the crumbling of rocks above her. She was only able to glance up for a second before she heard someone yelling, “watch out!” and she was tackled out of the way, landing on the ground hard.

They rolled together for a second before a hand was braced on the rock next to her, keeping her in place and allowing her dizziness to go away. But when she focused on just who had saved her, that anger boiled inside her again.

“What are you doing?” she growled.

“Keeping you from being crushed!” Zuko exclaimed, and when she looked back, she saw a huge mound of rocks in the spot she had just been standing.

“I’m not crushed,” she said, “so get off of me!”

Zuko complied as she shot back to her feet, but she noticed the sass in his voice. “I’ll take that as a thank you.”

Y/N ignored him as she brushed the dust off of her prison clothes—not that she cared much for them, but she would prefer if they didn’t become even more uncomfortable—and saw Toph and Haru earthbending through the rocks to create an exit for them.

“Come on!” Toph shouted. “We can get out through here!”

Katara grabbed Y/N’s hand to get her moving and they all ran towards the tunnel. The majority of them had gotten through but Aang was still struggling to get Appa to move. The chaos of the explosions had him spooked, and he wasn’t exactly the best with underground spaces.

“Come on, Appa!” He groaned with effort as he pulled on his reins, but then his eyes widened as they focused on something else. “Wait, what are you doing?”

Zuko wasn’t with them—he was standing in front of them all, facing the airships. When he looked back at them, made eye contact with her for the slightest moment, she could see his expression was hardened.

“I’m gonna hold them off,” he said. “I think this is a family visit.”

“Zuko, no!” Aang shouted, but it was too late. He had already run off in the direction of the airships, vaulting over the metal shutters that were breaking more and more with every second. They were running out of time.

“He’s an idiot,” Y/N muttered, but she focused back on Aang and his struggle with Appa and ran over to help him. Katara and Sokka were right behind her, as usual.

(She missed it, the siblings always having her back. She missed them.)

“Come on!” Sokka exclaimed, and the four of them began pulling on Appa’s reins trying to get him to move. “We’ve gotta get out of here!”

“I don’t think Appa’s going anywhere,” Y/N grumbled, her thin moccasins failing to find purchase on the smooth stone floor as she tugged on the reins.

“Me neither,” Aang lamented, and he craned his head back to look at Toph. “We can’t get him to go in there! Appa hates tunnels; we’re not gonna be able to get him through!”

“There’s no way we can fly out of here,” Katara said. “There’s three airships out there, we’ll get hit immediately!”

“We can find a way,” he insisted. “I can airbend them away and guide Appa through—”

“It won’t work,” Sokka interrupted. “There’s too many of them. We have to split up.” He looked at the half gathered by the tunnels, his expression grim but set. “You guys go through the tunnel and take the stolen airship. The rest of us will find another way.”

“What?” Katara cried, outraged as she reached out for Hakoda. “We— we can’t split up; we just all got back together! The Fire Nation can’t separate our family again!”

“It’ll be okay, Katara,” Hakoda said. Though his smile was reassuring, Y/N could see the sadness, the reluctance in his eyes. “It’s not forever. We’ve found each other twice—we’ll do it again.”

“...Okay,” Katara said, and she swallowed her tears as she pulled Hakoda and Sokka into a crushing hug.

Y/N smiled at the sight, but she couldn’t help but long for her mother. She would have to visit her as soon as she could—as soon as this was over.

(And there was another destination she would have to visit, she thought sadly. A visit that was long overdue, that was becoming more painful to think about as the days passed.)

She was snapped out of her thoughts as Sokka spoke again.

“We’ll see you all on the other side.”

Hakoda nodded, that confident stoicism back once again, and they all parted ways yet again. Katara grabbed Y/N’s hand, Sokka grabbed Suki’s, and they stopped next to Aang in the middle of the atrium.

“What now?” Y/N asked.

“I can clear that way,” Toph said, her hand planted against the rock wall. “We’ll be able to fly out from there.”

Katara reached a hand down and helped Suki up onto Appa’s back, then Y/N. She dropped her bag of meager belongings onto the back of his saddle and reached a hand down to pull Sokka the rest of the way up.

Aang and Toph joined them as Suki voiced her concerns. “There’s… a lot of fire in that direction.”

“We’ll get through,” Aang said. “Hold on, everyone.”

Y/N gripped the side of the saddle, and it was ridiculous, how even the leather of the saddle was. Spirits, how she’d missed being with her friends.

She clenched her jaw and tightened her hold as they burst out of the stone surrounding them, Toph using her bending to keep a shield of rock as protection on Appa’s frontside. Azula shot blue fire at them, and though some of the heat seeped through the cracks, it held strong.

Azula’s wild gaze was focused purely on them, but then another airship rose up, and Y/N’s eyes widened.

Zuko stood tall, feet planted, alive by some insane measure. Going against Azula was a death sentence in itself, but in this kind of scenario, when she was surrounded by backup and he was standing alone, it was even dangerous.

“What is he doing?” Y/N whispered angrily, and she missed the look that Sokka and Aang gave each other behind her back.

“He’s trying to right his wrongs,” Sokka said with a glance at her. An emotion rose in her chest that she couldn’t describe, and she was forced to look away, focusing back on the battle.

Zuko and Azula fought each other with a rage only held by siblings scorned. The mix of blues and oranges would have been beautiful if not tragic, and once again Y/N felt that twinge of sympathy. That was something she couldn’t understand about Zuko—his relationship with his sister; why he continued to hope for her despite everything that had happened.

Oh, she thought, the familiarity of it striking.

She already knew why.

But she wasn’t able to linger in her thoughts as they went through the midst of the danger, Aang being pushed to his limit as he pulled on the reins trying to guide Appa through the fire blasts from the soldiers. Katara jumped up and flicked open the cap on her waterskin, forming the water into whips to extinguish anything that got too close.

Y/N couldn’t keep her eyes off the battle, and her breath caught in her throat as the scene suddenly exploded into a huge barrage of smoke.

“What happened?” she cried out, well-aware of the panic in her voice but too distressed to care. “Where did they go?”

“They must have met with their blasts,” Sokka said. “They were too powerful and it caused the explosion—there’s way too much force from something like that to handle. They’ve gotta be—”

“There!” Aang shouted, and their attention all snapped towards the open air.

Zuko was free-falling, and Y/N, without thinking, leaned as far as she could out of the saddle—so far that she nearly fell herself, and Sokka grabbing her waist to keep her steady might’ve been the only thing keeping her there—and extended her arm as far as it could go in Zuko’s direction as Aang guided them closer.

By some miracle she managed to reach Zuko, their fingers barely touching at first and then their hands moving to grip each other’s wrists simultaneously. His hand was hot to the touch, smoldering from his explosive firebending, but she used all of her strength to pull him back into the saddle.

He collapsed in a heap, and for a moment, all they could do was stare at each other with wide eyes. Y/N didn’t realize she was still holding onto him until the heat sunk into her skin, and she tore herself away from him with a quick exhale.

“You’re an idiot for doing that,” she said hastily, turning away from him, and for a moment Zuko was completely starstruck, unable to take his eyes off of her.

It was only once he got over himself that he scrambled to the edge of the saddle, searching for his sister.

“There!” he called, and they all looked where he pointed.

Azula was falling through the open air, and for a split second, Y/N was able to see a rare panic in her eyes.

“She’s… not gonna make it,” he said quietly.

But just as quickly, Azula composed herself. She ripped her hairpiece out and shot herself over towards the mountain wall with her bending, stabbing the sharp end into the rock. She slid down a few meters, but just before the surface ended, she skidded to a stop. Her hair flowed loosely in the wind as she hung from one hand, watching them. Even with the distance, Y/N still felt a chill go down her spine.

“Of course she did,” he murmured. “She always does.”

Sokka collapsed against the side of the saddle, brushing a bead of sweat away with a larger-than-life sigh. “Tui’s gills, that was a disaster.”

“Most things involving Zuko and his sister are,” Y/N mumbled, but it was half-hearted as she stared off into the distance.

“Where do we go now?” Toph asked. “We’re on Azula’s radar; it has to be somewhere she can’t find us.”

“We’re in the Fire Nation,” Zuko said. “There’s a lot of islands dotted around here; she won’t have time to look through all of them.”

“An island is fine,” Katara said. “As long as we’re not drawing any attention, I don’t really care where we go.”

“Then an island it is,” Aang said.

And as they flew, quiet conversation being made between the rest of them, Y/N couldn’t help but look over at Zuko every once in a while. It was only when he was distracted, when he wouldn’t be able to tell that she was paying attention to him. But there was some kind of feeling in her chest, a tightness that she couldn’t get to disappear.

She was… scared. Scared for him when he went off to fight Azula, terrified for him when he nearly met his end in the hazy abyss.

The pure fear that struck her heart when she saw him falling through the open air, the instant relief that spread through her body when she pulled him back into the saddle and knew he was safe.

It evaporated the moment she realized the feelings running through her, but not before she felt undeniable heat rushing to her cheeks, something she hadn’t felt since their meetings in Ba Sing Se.

She was done with him. She was so sure that she had given up on him, fully turned her back.

But now…

Now, she wasn’t so sure.

And that, more than anything, was what terrified her.

perm tags: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77 @simonsbluee @kwyloz @masteroperator @louderfortheback

atla tags: @marianne1806 @brown-eyed-thang @akiris

ehfar tags: @chandies-sideblog @zacatecanaaaa @anzanity @randomthingssss @escapingthoughtsandsecrets @shanksfav @shephard17895 @ilovespideyyy @whats-my-question @selfship-mishaps @ilistentotayswifttocope @i-make-questionable-choices @3leni @thatobsessedreader @lostgreekgod @oriontingz @zerode-unhinged @badpvn @mimi-sanisanidiot @adhdhufflepuff @aquaamethyst96 @hollyismentallyillhelp @holypoetrygarden @islandgayneery @pitrii-petra @jinxed-jk @veras-fanfic-reblogs @cloud-9ine @lucifersidepiece @kiskzawagnerwhore @froggi-00 @eajalova

#zuko x reader #zuko x you #zuko x reader fic #zuko #zuko fic #avatar #avatar the last airbender #atla #avatar fic #atla fic #avatar the last airbender fic #atla x reader #avatar x reader #sadie writes #ehfar

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tomorrowusa · 10 months

Text

The nightmare is (almost) over in Poland! 🇵🇱

The ruling PiS (Law and Justice Party) did not win enough seats in the Sejm in October's national election to form another government.

Poland's PiS President Andrzej Duda tried to slow down the departure of his Prime Minister Mateusz Morawiecki by dragging out the transfer of power. Duda even asked Morawiecki to try to form a new government despite the obvious mathematical impossibility of doing so.

But time ran out for PiS. Morawiecki lost a vote of confidence in a 10+ hour meeting of the Sejm on Monday. With 456 members voting and 229 needed for a governing majority, Morawiecki lost by a margin of 266 to 190.

After that fiasco, a three party pro-democracy coalition led by former Prime Minister Donald Tusk won a vote of confidence by 248 to 201.

After nine years out of power, Donald Tusk is back — securing the support of the Polish parliament on Monday evening to head a new government.

The vote was 248 in favor and 201 against, cementing his return nearly two months after a coalition of opposition parties led by the former European Council president delivered a surprising win in the October 15 national election. “I want to thank the Polish people,” Tusk told cheering MPs. “Thank you Poland, this is a great day, not for me, but for all those who for these long years deeply believed that it will still be better, that we will chase away the darkness, chase away the evil.”

The new coalition government officially takes power on Wednesday.

I don't understand much Polish, but went out of my way to see Barbara Nowacka's speech in the debate leading to the votes. She had no qualms about calling out members of the outgoing government by name.

The PiS losers could only listen grimly as she excoriated them and compared them with the autocratic Viktor Orbán régime in Hungary.

Pani Nowacka will likely be the new Minister of Education in Poland.

#poland #polska #donald tusk #mateusz morawiecki #pis #sejm #no confidence vote #winter came for the house pis #barbara nowacka #andrzej duda #victory for democracy #wotum nieufności #żegnaj PiS!

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klaineccfanficlibrary · 1 year

Note

Hi, I have a bingo card!

1. I Have Guidelines by hippohead

2. It Happened on a Monday by quizasvivamos

3. A Safe Place by dizzywhiz, thewalkinghufflepuff

4. Home Away From Home by lilyvandersteen

5. Swipe by cerriddwen

6. New Adventures Summer Camp by izwordsoup

7. Are You Spying? by nineofhearts

8. It Only Takes a Taste by blurglesmurfklaine

9. My Dreams Come True by little_escapist

Great! Thank you very much! HERE are the details for the 2023 Klaine Fanfiction Bingo. ~Lynne

All the fics shared are under the read more below 👇🏻

I Have Guidelines by hippohead

Blaine needs Kurt to pretend to be his boyfriend for a week-long work retreat. Kurt has seen enough movies to know how that cliché ends and comes up with some guidelines to ensure they don’t fall in love with each other.

(yeah, they’re absolutely already in love with each other don’t worry)

2) It Happened on a Monday by quizasvivamos

When Blaine discovers that his boyfriend of seven years has been cheating on him for nearly two years, he teams up with an unlikely partner to exact revenge: the man who Sebastian has been cheating on him with. But even with a clear five-step plan, plans go awry as they’re so often wont to do.

3) A Safe Place by dizzywhiz, thewalkinghufflepuff

Season 6 AU where instead of Blaine dating Karofsky, he's with Sebastian, otherwise known as Kurt's worst nightmare. Kurt's devastated, but he quickly learns the pain runs deeper than his own feelings of regret. Will Kurt be able to fix what was ruined during their second breakup, or is he destined to lose Blaine to Sebastian forever? Canon divergent, Season 6 rewrite.

4) Home Away From Home by @lilyvandersteen

Cooper buys a hotel sight unseen and asks Blaine to run it for him over the summer. Only, the hotel is a health and safety hazard and Inspectors Hummel and Abrams are hell-bent on closing it down. Can Blaine spruce the hotel up in time and save Cooper's investment?

5) Swipe by @cerriddwenluna

Kurt’s flight back to New York has been delayed. To pass the time, he decides to browse Tinder and see what kind of men Columbus has to offer. There’s no harm in just looking, right?

6) New Adventures Summer Camp by izwordsoup

Kurt doesn't know why he agreed to be a camp counselor with Finn for the summer, he doesn't even like camping. In other words, Kurt is pretty sure this summer is going to suck. Enter cute fellow camp counselor Blaine Anderson.

7) Are You Spying by @nineofhearts4

Rachel graduates after the New Directions wins Nationals, leaving Kurt as the new captain of the Glee Club. He is left to pull a new team together, including finding a 12th member after auditions fall flat. He resorts to posting on a show choir forum to recruit new members, where he meets another poster by the name of BWarbler, who happens to be very fed up with his own glee Club, which is now run by Sebastian Smythe. They strike up a friendship online, never realizing that they are show choir rivals who will meet and compete against one another at Regionals. ....until they do

8) It Only Takes A Taste by BlurglesmurfKlaine | @blaineandersimp

Eight weeks. Sixteen of the self proclaimed worst cooks in the nation. Two very frustrated professional chefs. A fellow contestant catches Blaine’s eye. Will they cook up something more than just friendship? Worst Cooks in America AU and no I will not apologize for the pun.

9) My Dream Come True by @little-escapist

Kurt Hummel thought that being a famous model was his dream until he met Blaine Anderson and his son.

#klaine fanfic #klaine fanfiction #glee fanfiction #2023 Klaine Bingo

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always-andromeda · 2 years

Note

“Fast food nation” is not really worth it, trust me. It’s… weird (not in an interesting way). There are Brian scene-packs on youtube that cover all the interesting parts. I mean, it still got me hooked on the character, but only because nasty-oily-Dano is my favourite Dano. My ex boyfriend used to work at McDonald’s, so maybe it’s a real-life-event-turned-into-fiction-kink?

Thanks for the quick answer! If you can’t bite the bullet, I’ll feed it to you: “La Belle Fluer Sauvage” (your choice, free your filthy mind, you always hit the checkpoint), Brian Wilcox.

Again, congrats congrats congrats!

Author's Note | Anon. I am gonna need to thank you but also strangle you for this request /j. I have tried so hard to keep requests simple and sweet for my sanity but I literally could not with this one. This shit is just over 2,300 words and I am not about it. Jesus Christ almighty, I went fucking buck wild here. 🤭 also. i got three requests for Brian. so I made them into like a mini trilogy. this is part two of that trilogy. next part will be out in an hour!!

Warnings | smut (MDNI), unprotected sex, sexual tension, Brian is a gross little greasy freak!!

You waste away your summer job at Mickey's like each day is just another everlasting big burger, all held together with plastic cheese and crammed in a box that's way too small. Meaning, it's all artificial. It's all disgusting and temporary and all a product of capitalism or some shit. That's how you describe yours and Brian's relationship.

His kisses are laced with salt and whatever flavor of energy drink he's fixated on at the moment. You would ask him to remember to brush his teeth in the mornings, but you doubt he'd actually do it. He doesn't like you nearly enough to actually take that into consideration for his morning routine. That's to say he even likes you at all.

Because you rarely get the idea that he does. You get the sense that he likes you as long as you kiss him back when he joins you in the walk-in freezer. As long as you laugh when he makes some corny joke about warming you up. Though nothing has ever gone further than quick makeouts and over the clothes action, you suspect that he wouldn't have any qualms with pulling his dick out right in front of the frozen burger patties.

But as soon as he crosses the imaginary line you've set for yourself, you're humming into his mouth, telling him you're getting cold, and that you don't want Tony to catch you. Then Brian makes some quip about how he thinks it would be fantastic, actually, if Mickey's employee of the month was caught in the walk-in with Mickey's worst employee of every month. You giggle sparingly, hoping that doesn't give him the wrong idea.

Because you want what he wants: fun. At least you hope that's what he wants too. Just a reprieve from the hell that is service work that isn't talking shit about Tony in the break room. And you have to admit, getting Brian flustered with a heated kiss is a bit more of a productive usage of your time.

Which is exactly why you avoid him on this day. Because the last time you made out with him in the walk in, you swear you felt him pop a boner. And you'd drawn your line at much less before. So the second you felt him bulging through his baggy pants and pressing against your abdomen, you were out of there.

Three days later, he's staring at you from inside the kitchen as if you're still blue balling him from where you work the cash register. He averts his eyes when you turn to read him the next order. But you know that when you greet another customer with a chipper, 'Hi, welcome to Mickey's! What can I get for you today?' he's right back to burning holes into the back of your head with his dark eyes.

You try your best to ignore him. Like he's some nightmare you had. Yet, just like a fever dream, he doesn't quite go away. He's right at the edge of your vision, flipping burgers with a bored expression. At least he always smiled when he kissed you. Well...he smirked. And it was annoyingly smug. Whatever. It was still better than the indifference he pretends to embody.

I know your secret, Brian Wilcox. With the pungent fumes of stale oil and a touch of mildew, you popped a boner in the walk-in freezer. Because you kissed me.

The thought liberates you until you clock out for the night. You walk to your car, keys laced between your fingers like your mother had taught you years ago. So when Brian grabs your wrist as you reach for your car door, you whip around, ready to hit him directly in the gut.

"Hey, hey, hey, Jesus--" Brian yells, dropping your wrist quickly and lunging away from your swinging fist, "It's just me...Jesus fucking Christ...were you trying to kill me?"

You hiss, "Were you trying to act like a fucking creep? Fuck, Brian-- It's late. What are you still doing here?" Hand over your chest, your shoulders slump and you eye him wearily, waiting for his excuse.

He doesn't bother apologizing. Just looks at you with his brow furrowed and says like it's the most obvious thing in the world, "I wanted to talk to you."

"About?"

"The other day..."

You sigh and wave him off, "I don't give a shit if Jason steals my chips from the break room, he can go ahead and have them--"

Of course Brian doesn't let you get away that easily, "Oh, fuck off with that. You know what I'm talking about."

"Do we really have to talk about it?"

"I think it's a good idea," he argues.

"Yeah, what a great idea. I kissed you and you're such a pussy that you got hard over it. So glad that I got to relive that. Thanks, Bri." you prepare to turn away from him when he catches your wrist once more.

"That's it?" he searches for an answer you don't want to give. "So...I'm guessing you...didn't like it?"

You snort and your reply comes out less sarcastic than you would've liked, "Oh, I absolutely loved it. When I applied here, I was just praying to get groped by some greasy asshole who can't keep it in his pants."

Brian snickers at your weak tone, "I bet you were."

"Excuse me?"

"Tell me you weren't and I'll leave you alone." he challenged you in a low, even voice that scares the shit out of you. Only it's not because he looms over you, daring you to prove him wrong. It's more the thought of working another day at this fucking restaurant without having his body and quick tongue to get you through it that startles you.

You go deadly silent, opting to stare down at where yours and his rubber soled shoes touch the asphalt.

"That's what I thought." Finally, he seems to understand how hard this is for you to admit to him.

Brian takes a deep breath and tries again, "I didn't think you'd want me either. If that makes you feel any better."

You answer quickly, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound so…mean.”

"Yes, you did." he insists, "But so did I."

You make tight fists with your hands, pressing your nails into your palms. Sniffing, you ask, "What are we gonna do now?"

Brian kicks one of his feet, tapping the tip of his shoe against yours. "Well...either we can drive home...separately. Or...maybe I could show you the backseat of my car."

A genuine laugh rips from your chest, "Jesus, Brian. Can you not act like you're gonna fucking murder me? If you want to mess around in your car, could you just ask like a normal person?"

His attitude floods his tone ferociously, "Fine, do you wanna fuck me in my backseat?"

The way your clit throbs at that makes you bite the inside of your cheek so hard you taste a tinge of copper. You try not to breathe when you say nonchalantly, "Yeah, sure."

Brian turns, walking a few steps to his car, parked two spaces down from yours. He opens the back passenger side for you in some fucked up, gentlemanly gesture.

"After you," he tilts his head towards the interior and you crawl in, immediately turning to lie on your back on the leather upholstery. When Brian joins you, he barely has enough space in the cramped backseat to perch between your legs. He keeps one hand on the back headrest and the other on the edge of the seat bracing himself there.

Brian hovers over you. That crooked smirk you liked so much is plastered across his pink face as he works at the buttons of your uniform, exposing your bare chest so fast that your skin forgets the feeling of the cool summer air from outside. Your chest rises and falls shallowly with your nervous breath.

Brian says slowly, "I hope you know...I really like it when you forget to put on a bra before coming to work. It's really fucking hot."

"It's not like I do it for your sake," you squeak out a pathetic attempt at a comeback.

"Never said you did, princess."

Oh. Fuck. Right. Off.

He leans in, eyes flickering from yours down to your swollen lips, "Are you gonna keep being snippy? Or are we gonna fuck?"

Please.

You nod fervently and reach for the collar of his uniform.

Brian simply moves back, dodging your grasp, "Come on, princess. I want you to say it. Or else I won't hesitate to leave your stubborn ass back here."

A mixture of anger and embarrassment mixing to form a flush on your cheeks and the tips of your ears, you crane your neck and finally grab his collar, bringing his lips back to yours, "Just fuck me, you asshole."

With a satisfied grin, Brian's lips mold against yours. His mouth open and tongue swiping across yours, you're just as breathless as you are in the walk in. But with his busted air conditioner and the atmosphere of the backseat dampening, not even your unbuttoned shirt could offer any relief from the heat.

Brian pulls away and studies you as you try to catch your breath. Moments pass and he shifts slightly, hovering over your chest. You watch him press his lips together and push out a fat glob of saliva from between them. The spit lands with a wet plop between your tits and you scoff at the humored expression on his face.

That's all before he ducks in again, this time to lick a long stripe up your chest, gathering the saliva on his tongue before wrapping his lips around one of your nipples and sucking. The high pitched moan you let out takes you by surprise as he switches to giving the other attention with a jarringly gentle kiss. He looks up at you through his dark hair with devious eyes. Then the hand bracing itself on the edge of the seat flies to the belt that holds up his pants under the loose fitting uniform.

Brian pulls down his pants and boxers just enough to poke out his solid cock, the tip practically pulsing and purple. He helps you take off your own bottoms, banging his head on the ceiling of his car in the process.

He winces and rubs at the back of his head, "Shit—"

The laugh you let out is cut off sharply when he presses his lips to yours again just to shut you up. But he doesn't just want to stifle your teasing. He also stifles your yelp as he slides himself into your wet cunt, leaving no room for adjustment or romance. He simply fills you out and groans as you tremble and tighten around him.

His lips falter in covering yours and you taste the sweat forming on his upper lip as he struggles to breathe out another moan.

No matter how many pretty sounds he makes for you as you struggle to take all of him without nearly choking on your own dwindling air supply, you tell yourself one thing. Remember, he doesn't actually like you. He likes your mouth and he likes your tits and he likes your pussy. Not. You.

Once he starts moving, you repeat it in your head over and over again every time his skin slaps against yours lewdly.

He doesn't like you. He doesn't like you. He doesn't like you.

You try to picture yourself twenty years from now. A born again Christian soccer mom with four kids, a minivan, and a husband who thinks women can't possibly have orgasms. You imagine a future where Brian is just a bad memory that you tell your friends over wine. That he's the reason why you'd tell your shitty husband to nip at your neck in bed or maybe try a new position. Because when Brian did it, it felt divine. And before you know it, you're circling back around to him.

Fuck. No matter how much rewiring you attempt, it goes back to Brian fucking Wilcox and you wish you could hate it.

You're entangling your fingers in his dark hair and pulling hard. His teeth bite a little deeper into your skin and you gasp at the sting.

"Jesus fucking Christ..." he curses loudly and you feel the full weight of every vulgar syllable reverberating in his throat.

He's good at this and he fucking knows it. You can tell by the way he chuckles slightly when you try to arch your back off of the leather backseat. All you want is to press more of your body against his. For some fucking reason, you need this summer fling to poison you worse than the preservatives Mickey's puts in their food does.

Already, you feel the good kind of chemicals coursing through your veins. Your uniform shirt rises up and the sweat clinging to your skin makes your lower back stick to the leather. And as soon as you peel yourself off of the seat and your chest meets his, you kiss him.

You make him swallow the sounds of arousal that come from deep inside you as his poison takes over all of your senses. Riding out the climax exerts all of your energy and leaves you gritting your teeth through overstimulation. You weakly attempt to clench around him for only a moment before Brian pulls out and jerks himself off a few more times with a tight fist.

Both sets of eyes blown out with lust, you and him watch as his cock twitches and then shoots thick ropes of cum that spill out over your chest, still practically glistening with the streaks his tongue left.

Thoroughly defiled and spent, you don't dare think of anything but his softening cock laying across your abdomen as he dips his head and catches his breath.

Voice now hoarse and thin, Brian says quietly, "Fuck man…I think— I think I really fucking like you..."

#strange trails milestone✨#danonation #paul dano #danocel #fast food nation #brian wilcox #brian wilcox x reader #brian wilcox x you #brian wilcox x y/n #˚ʚ meda writes ɞ˚

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rotinthedark · 4 months

Text

Next up: Seb's LOK verse

Sebastian is a firebender living in Republic City who's a part of the Agni Kai triad. Living alone in an apartment, having been thrown out of his home by his stepfather at the age of 13 once his bending was found out about. Given the rest of his family are nonbenders, said stepfather was prejudiced and overruled his mother and half-sister to kick him out. He'd lived on the streets until the gang found and took him in once they saw how scrappy he was.

Thus, the triad life is all he's really known after 10 years with them. He doesn't love it, his heart isn't in it, but it keeps him fed and sheltered so he's simply gotten used to their kinds of jobs.

His firebending is his only connection to his birth father, who was murdered by nonbenders. Thus, he puts a lot of work into training so he can be the best he can be.

Unfortunately, his trauma has locked his fire chakra and made his firebending weaker despite his training and prevents him from generating lightning. It's an insecurity he doesn't like to talk about. (He is unaware about the chakra blocking.)

He often trains hidden away somewhere in the city while listening to pro-bending matches over his radio. Imitating what he hears in real-time. He attends matches whenever he's able to. If he could, he'd love to join a team and try it out, but his triad work takes up too much of his time.

Amon scared the ever loving shit out of him, as well as the Equalist Movement with all his past nonbender trauma, but that's a whole other story.

At one point in Book One, he nearly got caught by an equalist and he still has nightmares about it and what could have happened.

His 'upbringing' informs a lot of his general attitude, but he's not a bad guy. Just a guy who had no other option. He's empathetic with the homeless and downtrodden of the city, and he helps them out where he can get away with it. He never forgot his time sleeping hidden in alleyways by the trash he then scavenged for food.

With my ship with @xheartpages , Seb is dating Mako and friends with the Krew bc of it, but he's a loner outside of that. Has opinions about the Avatar, but he largely keeps them to himself.

He has absolutely just burned traffic tickets he's gotten for his bike instead of paying them more than once. That's about his level of respect for law enforcement and the government in general.

Enjoys Pai-Sho and is pretty good, actually.

He longs to visit the Fire Nation someday, so he can experience his father's culture and feel closer to him bc of it. However, he doesn't have the money or time for such a massive trip. So, he settled for looking out at the bay and imagining.

#ooc #v; an ash blackened soul #I lost followers back in the day when this hyperfixation struck me #the avatar world is just so fun to write in I can't help it

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detectiveangel · 2 years

Text

post-traumatic synthesized dreamscape no. 1

youtube

this digital sound composition is an attempt to transcribe (record, mollify, exorcise) my emotions looking back on the events of last february as i experienced them.

i was living in st. petersburg as a graduate student researcher, one of the dwindling ragtag lot of americans with no family ties to russia still trying to live there, when the russian military invaded ukraine early in the morning the day after february 23rd, the federal holiday honoring military men that was once red army day. i had already given up on my dream of living in russia for anything approaching the long term and was trying to stay for just as long as i safely could as History unfolded around me. i left russia 24 hours after the start of the invasion and made it back to the u.s. safe but mentally shattered. I’d spent months navigating or avoiding tense encounters with russian migration police as weekly updates to civil law gradually made it very nearly impossible to legally reside in russia as citizen of a designated “enemy nation;” and then finally found myself alone in a windowless room with an fsb agent in the remote checkpoint by the finnish border that terrible morning. my battered psyche imploded before the questioning, which was, objectively, very mild, even began.

back in the u.s., i spent months struggling to operate my own person before i realized that i had ptsd from a war to which i had barely been a distant bystander. i started therapy and saw massive improvement after just a few months. good fortune, which saw me safely through so many close calls and near-disasters during the grinding buildup and violent lurch into fully-fledged military rule in russia, blessed me yet again.

before entering formal therapy, i leaned very heavily on intoxicating substances (alcohol in russia, marijuana in the u.s.) and movies to keep the terror at bay. my understanding of myself in this phase of my life is heavily mediated by cinema, especially cinema made or set in the wwii and early “post-war” era. this time when society’s psychic wounds were only just scabbing over and could be seen on nearly everyone who crossed a camera feels less like the past and more like a parallel present still playing out in ever-more garbled reproductions in the nightmare fantasies that govern life in the places that never healed properly from the traumas of the ‘40s. to make beautiful or joyful art has become impossible, but the need to externalize our disordered response to trauma in art is stronger than ever. our voices can no longer carry a tune, but we have all history’s old recordings to grind and reshape into new kinds of music that may somehow express the emotions no amount of time and treatment can resolve.

some notes on the recordings i used as material for this piece

during this last year of trauma recovery, i saw myself most vividly in one particular cinematic incantation of postwar psychosis co-created by a brit and an american both too young to have experienced wwii but raised in its fallout as men in societies where the publicly synthesized idea of maleness is overwhelmingly suffused with the radioactive particles still emitting from the atoms of that war. watching mickey rourke’s performance in alan parker’s metaphysically-canted neo-noir “angel heart” (1987) somehow made a narrative out of the glossolalia of confusion and pain humming at the core of my being during the strung-out spring that followed the terrible winter of ’21-’22.

in the autumn before that winter, i had found strength and solace from the encroaching fascist terror in russia in the exploration and nurturing of my own masculinity. i had long identified more with a masculine perspective than a female one, but various factors limited the extent to which i expressed this identification. various other factors led to me reaching new levels of masculine identification and expression that fall, and this was a positive, self-actualizing experience that nurtured me during the months in which i lived under increasingly dire threat of repression from a government officially opposed to the existence of queers, americans, and gender studies researchers within its borders.

months of trudging alone through seedy hotels, anxious crowds, and icy boulevards, all while looking over my shoulder for police, were bearable if i saw myself as a sort of postmodern pastiche of film noir protagonists, a hardboiled detective working an increasingly dangerous case, an existentially bedraggled man in the wrong time, space, and body muttering clever wisecracks for the benefit of none but himself and perhaps some imaginary audience of ghosts and angels. at that time i hadn’t, to my knowledge, actually watched any of the classic bogart & co. detective movies, so my metaphysical drag act was itself composed from impressions and parodies. i was, however, quite intimate with other strains of 1940s cinema (i was in the archives mainly to study a film from that decade) and though my active memory has retained nothing of “casablanca” (1942), i did see that film at a Formative Age and this would seem the most likely source of my improbable and ultimately impossible lifelong obsession with becoming a jaded-yet-romantic american expat on the fringes of europe.

lying prone in the rubble of my exploded expat fantasies back in my native california, i watched movies projected on my ceiling and in most cases enjoyed a vacation from my psychological perspective through the temporary occupation of another. but once in a while, i caught my own reflection in the kino-eye. such was the case with “angel heart,” a meticulously formalist meditation on the fractured collective psyche of “postwar” america via the methodical deconstruction of a man composed entirely of echoes and fictions masking unbearable trauma from participating in ritual human sacrifice both literally (as an occultist) and metaphorically (as a soldier in the war). as a supernatural creation bearing the souls of both perpetrator and victim of the sacrifice, his trauma response is self-annihilating – a mystical representation of the psychosis experienced by all us cogs in the war machine, one-souled or otherwise. the two souls bound up in harry angel/johnny favorite both experienced the war from a sidelined, un-masculine position: one as a section 8 discharge dismissed after a brief, traumatizing stint of service, the other as an enlisted entertainer. this allegory resonated in the contours of my imagination with incredible sonority, but i saw my reflection well before the plot unfolded, in the very first scenes of the film, in the physical demeanor affected by mickey rourke loping awkwardly through dirty manhattan snow in a wool trenchcoat. i had caught a similar reflection many times in the windows of moscow and petersburg as i trudged through dirty snow, insulating my frightened self from a hostile world with a similar wool trenchcoat and self-effacing butch affect cribbed from cinema-mediated memories of ‘20s-‘30s tough guys.

my identification with this character/performance is only one undercurrent of this noise-music composition, but it is the one i feel needs the most explication. the meanings carried by the other voices (among them those of vyacheslav tikhonov portraying an exhausted soviet agent within the ss in early 1945 berlin, leonid utesov singing the praises of his beloved odessa, and alexander vertinsky crooning an emigrant’s lament for distant st. petersburg) are more self-apparent.

2/23/2023

media sampled here:

audio from the films

“the third man” (1949)

“семнадцать мгновения весны” (1972)

“angel heart” (1987)

“black angel” (1946)

“casablanca” (1942)

song recordings

“у черного моря” (leonid utesov, 1953)

“girl of my dreams” (etta james, 1960)

“чужие города” (alexander vertinsky, 1936)

“крейсер «аврора»” (choir of the leningrad pioneers’ hall, 1982)

additionally

personal audio recordings

midi file created from the composition “песня о далекой родине” (1972) by mikаеl tariverdiev

the accompanying video was created with samples from the above-mentioned films, as well as personal recordings and archival footage from a filmed concert performance by leonid utesov in 1940.

audio edited & produced using ableton live 9

video edited & produced in windows movie maker + microsoft clipchamp

some notes on the recordings i used as material for this piece

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abubblingcandle · 8 months

Note

ankle or pain or stiff or bored

Thank you! This is helping with the football induced hysteria as I lay in bed screaming at the tv. Putting it under the cut as it is long!

Ankle - from Have You Noticed You Are Breathing

“I’m not sticking around here until after lunch with you wallowing and trying to play video games with a messed up brain,” Keeley tossed Jamie his lone slide and laid his crutches next to him. “I’m doing a good job of playing video games with a messed up brain actually,” Jamie protested, hand clutched against his chest in mock outrage but he did slide on his shoe to his good foot and hop up to his feet. “You don’t really need to babysit. I am able to exist on my own with a fucked up ankle. I’m getting good at hopping. God I’m going to be so unsymmetrical after this. My good leg is going to be so mint,” Jamie rambled but despite his protests he now had a coat on and was ready to leave. “Come on Mr I Can’t Shower Alone,” Keeley teased, helping him hop out down the stairs from Ted’s apartment. “I said you don’t need to. Didn’t say I wouldn’t like it babe,” Jamie smirked.

Pain - from Make Me Fret or Make Me Frown

“Nothing to be sorry for Jamie. Just don’t want you to be in any more discomfort than you need to be,” Ted whispered and smiled. Jamie huffed and Roy nearly reflexively did the same. Jamie was visibly in a fuckton of discomfort, what was a little bit more pain when you were currently the talk of the nation? Ted, Rebecca, Keeley, Georgie were all focusing on the slating of Cartrick and Rupert but Roy had been looking deeper. He had seen all the people calling Jamie a wimp and a weak little bitch for going down and hiding in hospital while the real footballers were being punished. He had seen all the people calling for the suspension to be over ruled because Williams was just playing the proper game not the babyish sport that Tartt wanted to play. They didn’t care that Jamie was in pain. They didn’t care that he had nearly died. Rupert was playing the orchestra of online assholes, like the pied piper of keyboard wankers.

Stiff - from Like a Black Hole

Jamie woke up with a throbbing head and a stiff neck. He couldn’t remember the much of the day before after resurrection of Dani Rojas’ knee. He was already plastered then. It would be easy to believe that his chat with Miss Welton was just a really bad dream. But then Jamie opened his eyes to find himself sat on his floor, empty bottles of assorted cheap alcohol around him and still wrapped in the Richmond sideline cape that he had stolen in a fit of anger. It had happened. It wasn’t a nightmare.

Bored - from Snap

“I won’t mind if you take the call,” Jamie muttered. Beard turned it over and it was just a text. His eyes flicked side to side and then the phone was returned to the table. “He’s fine. He just wants company but you need this. Assuming you didn’t just call because you are bored?” Beard raised an eyebrow. “No, no. I,” Jamie stammered, drumming his fingers on the table. Beard, despite his best friend’s requests for companionship, seemed to content to sip his drink and wait for Jamie to find the words. There were only three words that could sum up all of his raging thoughts. “I fucked up,” Jamie sighed, eventually breaking the silence.

#candle writes #ted lasso fanfic #jamie tartt #ted lasso #roy kent #ask box is always open #willis beard #keeley jones #snap tag #have you noticed tag

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chriscdcase95 · 2 years

Text

(The following is set twelve years after the events of ATLA, and seven years after my unwritten fic, The Ancient World. Hence the Godzilla refrences.

For more context read these two posts. Otherwise, just keep doing what you're doing and enjoy the read.)

-----

It's been seven years.

It has been seven years since the Titans re-awoke. Since the golden dragon was slain, and with it, snow fell upon the Fire Nation. Since the King of the Monsters reclaimed his throne, and returned to the sea.

For many, it was a nightmarish time in the Three Nations. Azula still has nightmares about those days.

But it wasn't the giant monsters that put fear in the former Fire Princesses heart, it was that sinking feeling she'd awake and find herself back in that dark place in life. It worked her up into panic attacks and night terrors, even worse than the dragon Ghidorah, or Bagan.

And almost every time she had these, Ty Lee would be there to wake her up. To remind her she wasn't broken; to remind her she overcame that point in her life.

And to Azula's chagrin, sometimes Ty Lee would sing.

On the whole, Azula had no issue with “Ancient World Music”, as it was called.

The more Republic City develops; the more the “Uncharted Lands” were willing to share the culture and art that they kept alive for millennia; the more the newly born music industry grew.

And the songs Ty Lee had a particular ear worm for were called “Tiny Dancer” and “Circle of Life”, “Don't Let The Sun Go Down on Me”, “Don't Go Breaking My Heart” and “I Guess That's Why They Call It The Blues”. Who made these songs with such long titles, Azula will never know.

And with Azula granted control over the industrial developments of Republic City - a bonus reward for her part in Ghidorah's defeat - Azula has become very accustomed to hear thousands upon thousands of songs being rediscovered and shared with the Three Nations each year.

That being said, you wouldn't catch Azula singing in public for the most part. She had a dignified and professional image to maintain as the United Republic's most powerful businesswoman.

Azula's rather theatrical rendition of “Burning Love” being the exception. That was some bachelorette party; she has since promised to mind her drinking.

Back to the point at hand, Azula would still dream of that dark period in her life. And even today, with her new success and status, she feared blinking and seeing it all stripped away. As if this was the dream.

Luckily, whatever Azula was dreaming of tonight, she awoke from it with a jolt. As usual, she'd blink several times, making sure this was still her life, and it took about four seconds to register the sound.

Yasuko was up and crying again.

Azula rolls over to see a sleeping Ty Lee. For the past five years, Ty Lee has made a decent living as a drill instructor (“Fitness trainer!” Ty Lee would insist) for the RCPD.

Ty Lee considered a job within the force itself, but Azula was pretty touchy about her putting herself in the line of danger.

Azula had no doubt that Ty Lee would be the best on the RCPD itself; after all, Ty Lee fought her one-on-one on that expedition years back. In fact, Ty Lee nearly killed her in that fight.

But as the later battle with the golden dragon showed Azula, Ty Lee was as vulnerable as everyone else.

And as the revival of the King of the Monsters showed Azula, she wasn't gonna let Ty Lee put her life on the line for some “small causes” (such Azula’s own life).

Ty Lee didn't mind; after (barely) surviving Ghidorah and Bagan, she could settle for being the RCP's drill instructor. For the time being, at least.

But for the past week, Ty Lee was fighting a cold that left her bed ridden, which meant Azula had to take up more house duties.

Azula didn't mind of course; she helped bring down Ghidorah after all; taking care of your sick wife and four month old daughter was only mildly more challenging.

Luckily, Ty Lee's cold has been clearing up the past couple days, but Azula wants to be sure, so she nudges her wife a little.

“Ty ?”

Ty Lee rolls over, still asleep and mumbling.

“Mmmm,” Ty Lee groans.

“Ty Lee ?”

This time Ty Lee speaks in her sleep.

“A two-piece special with lots of hot sauce and all the fries you can give me.” Ty Lee sleepily mumbles.

Azula lets out a mild “hmph” and amused smirk. At least Ty Lee was over her own nightmares. Nightmares about that “burned man”. He had knives for fingers, Ty Lee says.

Still, duty calls. Azula kisses Ty Lee on the forehead.

“Alright, you have this night off.” Azula saysm climbing out of bed.

“I don't want that cup. Why would I want a non-mint condition Grimace cup ? Your selection is shoddy.” Ty Lee mumbles again.

With another chuckle,��Azula makes her way to the room across the hall, to Yasuko's nursery.

She doesn't bother turning on the lights, her eyes still adjusting to the darkness. The child's cries were like a foghorn in a dense fog.

Azula makes a beeline towards the crib, narrowly avoiding tripping over a stuffed dragon. Still a little tired, Azula leans over the crib to see a dark haired, wiggling infant for four months old, having rolled out of her bundle.

Yasuko’s little hands reach futilely towards the bars.

With an amused grin Azula reaches down.

“She thinks she can, she thinks she can...” Azula says teasingly, picking the infant up and holding her to her face “But you're too inexperienced to know if you can. And that's how the hare got humbled.”

Immediately sensing her mother, Yasuko stops crying, but still makes a series of whimpering and sobs.

“Now, what seems to be bothering you ?” Azula asks with a sigh, holding Yasuko close and resting the infant's head on her shoulder, protectively holding the back of her neck and head with one of her hands.

Yasuko says nothing but makes a few babyish noises.

“Oh, right.” Azula chuckles “You haven't figured out words yet. Well, you'll get a hang of it. And whatever's bothering you then clearly isn't now. So how 'bout we work at putting you back to sleep ?”

Yasuko lets out a little breathing noise through her nose, which Azula took as meaning “Great idea, momma! You always have the best ones!”

“I know I do.” Azula says, answering to the imaginary remark with a cocky smirk.

-----

Warming up a bottle of milk and settling into the living room, Azula sits down on a rocking chair, swaddling her daughter and feeding her.

Looking to the side, Azula glances out the window to a bright view of Republic City's nightlife. It always looked more alive at night, much like every other city in Azula's experience.

Matter of fact, this view brought to mind that play she and Ty Lee would catch every now and then.

It was a story shared across Uncharted Lands but only reached the Three Nations in recent years. It was about this King of the Lions, and they'd have performances of it every few years on Ember Island.

And so, unable to resist a wisecrack...

“Look Yasuko,” Azula says in a joking deep voice “Everything the lights touch is our kingdom.”

Yasuko says nothing, only letting out a relaxed sigh as she drunks from the bottle.

“Not into jokes, are ya kid ?” Azula sighs, “That's okay, we'll fix that in time.”

Standing up from her seats, and stepping towards the window, Azula lightly bounces the infant in her arms still working through the motions.

One would think that being a mother for four months would make her used to this, but ever the perfectionist, Azula was constantly on her toes that she might fuck things up.

Be it the coup of Ba Sing Se; her revival of Gojira, and seeing the downfall of Ghidorah; or even leading the new industrial age; Azula tends to think of Yasuko as one of her better achievements.

It was about a year ago she and Ty Lee even considered having a family. Azula never really saw herself as a mother before, being more work focused, as well as her personal relationships.

But like many things for Azula, shit changes.

Zuzu and Mai had a rugrat of their own the year before, and both Katara and Avatar Aang were expecting a little monster themselves. Needless to say, it brought out this sense of competitiveness in Azula.

Ty Lee going into “playful aunt” mode around Izumi didn't help Azula's resolve. Neither did the puppy dog look Ty Lee would give Azula when the subject came up. At first they considered adoption. Years after both Ghidorah and Bagan's rampages, hundreds of thousands of survivors were still displaced across the Three Nations. Especially orphaned children.

The problem was, Ty Lee just wanted to take them all, and couldn't stand to leave any behind. As for Azula, she couldn't afford opening a daycare in her house.

Eventually, Azula just threw six million into adoption agencies through her “Home For the Lost Ones” act. This effectively solved the bigger problem of orphans and refugees, but left Azula and Ty Lee back at square one.

Azula and Ty Lee considered male donors, but no options matched up to either Azula or Ty Lee's standards.

They put that option in the “Maybe” pile.

While they were still considering their options, it reached both Azula and Ty Lee that there is a method of drawing power from spirits.

If done right, one could bend the rules of nature a little; notably there were about a handful of recorded instances of same sex couples, conceiving together through this.

They differ between the genders of the couple, but this isn't a lesson on the mystical birds and the bees. Even so, these instances were very rare. So, during the Winter Solstice, Azula and Ty Lee took a gamble.

While not expecting it to actually work, they did draw upon the power of spirits. And through the act of tr- You know what ? What happens under the spirit-empowered waterfall, stays under the spirit-empowered waterfall.

Bottom line, neither of them expected to actually conceive...but Azula experiencing a week or so of morning sickness shot those doubts down.

Azula didn't expect to be the carrier between her and Ty Lee, but for whatever reason, the spirits picked her. And of course, Azula wasn't gonna back down from a challenge. It was just another in a long list of challenges that Azula would overcome and perfect.

So after nine months of enduring morning sickness; mood wings; fatigue; cravings for white and red meat (and peanuts); restless nights; Yasuko practicing her kick-boxing in utero; culminating in seven hours of labor ?

Azula would say she did a good job, all things considered.

During those, Ty Lee insisted that she and Azula take the last four off work, which was around the time her mood swings started acting up.

Azula was annoyed and reluctant at having to be taken care of as her due date drew near, but in retrospect Ty Lee deserves the world for putting up with her like that.

Azula still kicks herself for the things she said to Ty Lee during these mood swings and when Yasuko decided it was time to come out. When Yasuko was finally born, both Azula and Ty Lee took another six weeks off work.

During that time, Ty Lee proved herself to be a pro at this whole mom thing, so much so that she's taking about a year off work. As for Azula, she's still not sure if she has what it takes.

Everytime she holds her daughter, Azula minds every step she takes; always second guessing the way she holds Yasuko; even questioning if she put her to bed right.

Azula considered herself a master at many things, be it combat, strategy, politics and business. And yet this baby girl, a piece of her, has Azula questioning every move she makes.

Azula wasn’t even sure she could give this girl a bath or heat up the bottle just right without Ty Lee's help. And yet, with Ty Lee sick the past week, Azula manages to pull through.

Again, the whole “Help stopping Ghidorah” thing was just slightly less challenging.

Which is why when Azula found herself nodding off to memory lane, she silently scolds herself when she feels Yasuko's hand grabbing at her hair.

Yasuko lets out an airy “Ah” noise as she tries to take handfuls of her mothers hair and stuff them into her mouth.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Azula gives an amused grin as she gently pulls her hair out of her daughter's grasp “You're getting stronger everyday. I should keep an eye on you!”

As Azula holds her baby closer to her face, Yasuko takes the tip of her mothers nose into her mouth. It took Azula all her strength not to giggle.

“Well, that's one way of keeping an eye on things.” Azula says, gently pressing her forehead to Yasuko's. The infant lets go of Azula's nose in the process.

Yasuko says nothing, but makes a mumbling noise, before sticking her tongue out.

“Mm, I see.” Azula remarks, before glancing at the clock.

It was 2:30 now. If she doesn't get Yasuko back to sleep soon, they'll be up all night.

Carrying Yasuko back to their seat, Azula found herself humming a little tune. It was something released days ago as part of the ever growing music industry.

It was apparently another song from the Ancient World, kept alive through thousands of years of oral tradition, and now remade for a new world.

And unlike the thousands of other recreated songs, Azula found herself humming it twice now since its release. Once when she was in the shower, and again when she was asleep.

Both times, she thought Ty Lee couldn't hear her.

And yet as Azula finally realized she was humming it, she notices the way Yasuko is looking at her, as they sit back in their seats.

“You like the tune, don't you ?” Azula asks.

Yasuko makes a babble noise, before sticking her hand into her own mouth.

A smile creeps up on Azula's face, despite herself.

“Very well, if I agree to sing for you, will you agree to sleep for me ?” Azula teasingly asks.

Yasuko says nothing, but just looks up at her mother.

“I'll take that as a 'Yes'. Just don't let Mama know.” Azula winks.

And with that, Azula leans back into her seat, laying Yasuko on her chest, ear to heart. She rubs a hand up and down the infant's back, as she rocks the chair back and forth.

Humming the opening beat, Azula finds the lyrics slipping through her mouth. Even she's taken aback by how soft her voice is.

“There's a hero/If you look inside your heart/You don't have to be afraid/Of what you are...”

Yasuko snuggles into Azula's chest. So far, so good.

“There's an answer/If you reach into your so-o-u-u-ul/And the sorrow that you know/Will melt awa-a-a-a-ay...”

Yasuko lets out a hiccup, but Azula doesn't let it deter her.

“And then a hero comes along/With the strength to carry on/And you cast your fears aside/And you know you can survive.” Azula sings the chorus “So when you feel like hope is gone/Look inside you and be strong/And you'll finally see the truth/That a hero lies in you-u-u-u...”

In what was about a few seconds in real time, a whole slew of memories filled Azula's head at once.

“It's a long road/When you face the world alone/No one reaches out a hand/For you to ho-o-o-old.”

The memories were pretty unpleasant; they brought back a series of mucky feelings. Feelings she would rather do without.

Memories of her father, the asylum, and everything leading up to the Titans awakening, flooded her like a tidal wave.

“You can find love/If you search within yourself/And that emptiness you felt/Will disappe-e-e-a-a-a-ar...” Azula sings, trying to keep her voice down.

She had to blink a few times to be sure she was still here. That Yasuko was here with her, and that the past seven years were not just a dream.

“And then a hero comes along/With the strength to carry on/And you cast your fears aside/And you know you can survive.”

Again, a thousand thoughts fill Azula's head, in what was a couple of seconds in real time. Luckily, more welcoming memories and feelings filled her.

Like the explosive; the recreation of an Ancient World weapon that scorched the Earth and left poison in its wake. The kind that had the power to burn away a city with nothing more than a bright flash.

It was when the Titans awoke, when these weapons were uncovered, that Azula and her new team would recreate one of them.

At the time, Azula thought that by giving the Fire Nation such an arsenal, it would both demonstrate the power the Fire Nation still had, and provide the weapons that would slay the Titans.

For Zuko's benefit of course. He had everything to gain from this.

But that all changed, when the titan Gojira attacked.

“So when you feel like hope is gone/Look inside you and be strong/And you'll finally see the truth. That a hero lies in you...” Azula finishes the coursus, gently brushing her fingers through Yasuko's dark hair.

Azula remembers how the Avatar's crew and hers were left stranded in the Uncharted Country. How over time, she found herself connecting to those she never thought she would.

And how the very weapon she intended to fight the Titans, was instead used to empower the injured Gojira, once Ghidorah's true colors were revealed to the world.

It was what led to her and Ty Lee ending up together after all.

“Oh, oh, Lord kno-o-o-ows/Dreams are hard to follow/But don't let anyone/Tear them awa-a-a-ay...” Azula sings, noticing Yasuko was starting to snooze. “Hold o-o-o-on/There will be tomorrow/In time you'll find the waa-a-a-aay.”

Sensing someone standing behind her, Azula looks over her shoulder to see a tired eyed, but smiling Ty Lee, watching from the doorway.

Azula blushes in mild embarrassment. She tried her hardest to not let her wife catch her singing again, but a loss is a loss.

Contenting herself, Azula continues, as Ty Lee quietly makes her way to the couch.

“And then a hero comes along/With the strength to carry on/And you cast your fears aside/And you know you can survive...”

As Azula sings the next verse, she is sure Yasuko was sleeping by now.

“So when you feel like hope is gone/Look inside you and be strong/And you'll finally see the truth/That a hero lies in you...” Azula brings her singing voice down to a hush “That a hero lies in you...That a hero lies in you...”

As she finishes singing, Azula glances back at Ty Lee.

“Not a word.” Azula mouths.

“That was too cute!” Ty Lee beams, covering her mouth and wiping an eye.

Azula opens her mouth, but Ty Lee holds a finger up to stop her.

“And that wasn't A word; that was four words.” Ty Lee says, crossing her arms with a more cocky smile.

Azula closes her mouth with an amused smirk.

“Try not to wake her.” Azula says, slowly getting back up, her wife following after “Then she won't go back to sleep.”

“Who do you think you're talking to ?” Ty Lee asks, raising an eyebrow, gently taking Yasuko into her arms “Maybe the girl with four nieces and nephews has become something of an expert at the field.”

“Are you sure you can hold her ?”

“Oh yes.” Ty Lee nods “It's been clearing up since this morning. Come noon tomorrow, it'll be like I was never sick.”

Accepting Ty Lee's answer, Azula follows behind her to Yasuko's bedroom.

-----

Tucking Yasuko back into her crib, both Azula and Ty Lee took a minute to look down at the daughter.

“You know, sometimes I still don't believe it.” Azula sighs wistfully.

“Azula...” Ty Lee starts, knowing what Azula's gonna talk about.

“I know, I know.” Azula says, trying to keep herself reserved “I just had a few more of those dreams lately.”

Ty Lee doesn't push the matter. Azula talked about it extensively.

About how Azula would have a dream about waking up in the asylum; how she'd be a Firelord, but live a life that felt more empty; sometimes she'd wake up back to being a fugitive.

But the worst one was pretty vivid.

It was seven years ago, when Azula was preparing to revive Gojira. They were at Boiling Rock, where the golden dragon dropped the King of the Monsters following Bagan's defeat.

With the knowledge that the Titans fed on the power of these weapons, it was a no brainer. They just launch the weapons and empower the monster.

Except the only complete prototype could only be turned on manually. And it did not escape Azula's notice that most people were still afraid of her. Hated her even.

You'd think she'd be used to being feared and hated. But after weeks of accepting that love and compassion is not a weakness; and thinking that she was worthy of receiving it ? It hurts a little more.

Even after she helped save Ba Sing Se from Bagan's wrath, everywhere she looked she got these dirty looks. In the immediate aftermath of Bagan's defeat, almost everywhere she looked there'd be people giving her these dirty looks, or whispering behind her back.

As if they thought she was a greater monster than the so-called “Demonic Dragon God” that had killed nine-hundred-thousand people in its rampage!

Azula remembers the look Zuko, Mai and Ursa gave her when they first saw each other in the following Bagan's rampage. It looked like an addition to the nightmare they had on their hands.

So, while Zuko and his armies were evacuating the areas surrounding Boiling Rock, Azula took it upon herself to activate the weapon and empower Gojira.

She didn't care if she got incinerated, so long as she was out of everyone's hair, she'd be doing the Fire Nation its greatest favor.

But as she was setting up the weapon, expecting it to be the end of her story, word got to the Avatar and his friends what Azula was up to.

Avatar Aang, being a good boy scout, along with Katara and Ty Lee kept telling Azula was a life worth saving, how she doesn't deserve to be alone, let alone die here.

And so, when Aang, and Ty Lee both sat down beside Azula, refusing to leave her side as the timer started, Azula relented and allowed them to save her.

It was only when Azula was among the benders who aided bringing down Ghidorah did the general population accept Azula. The rest is history, leading up to Azula's new life with Ty Lee and Yasuko.

And because of this ? Azula's worst nightmares are the ones where she's back at Boiling Rock, the “weapon” at the ready, and the injured King of the Monster's staring her down.

Only this time, no one would come for her. She was destined to die there to empower a monster that would live for millennia past the Fire Nation. Doing the world the ultimate favor. And she was alone and worthless.

Azula is pulled from her train of thought when Ty Lee puts two hands on both her shoulders. They were here. In Yasuko's nursery. Ghidorah has been dead for seven years, and Gojira has returned to the sea for just as long.

Ty Lee moves Azula to face her. Azula didn't even realize she had tears, until Ty Lee wiped her eyes.

“I'm here.” Ty Lee says, reassuringly, before she puts her forehead to Azula's “You're here. And Yasuko's here; and she's always gonna be here. And so will you.”

Azula gives a sad smile, before wrapping her arms around Ty Lee's shoulder and buries her face into her shoulder. She doesn't sob, but she lets out these deep exhales as she lets this hurricane of emotions wash over her.

When Azula looks back up, towards the clock over Yasuko's dresser, she sees it's 2:37.

“I say it’s time we hit the hay.” Azula says with a sigh.

“It's like you read my mind.” Ty Lee nods.

Before they make their leave, they pay the sleeping Yasuko a final glance.

“We made something wonderful.” Ty Lee sighs, wrapping an arm around Azula's waist.

“Yeah, we did.” Azula says, reaching down into the crib, tracing a finger around Yasuka's head, without even touching her “And she will bring wonderful things into this world.”

“I'd expect nothing less.” Ty Lee says with a smile.

And with that, Azula and Ty Lee made their way to their bedroom. As they climb back in, they resume a cuddling position, with Ty Lee spooning Azula.

After a moment, Ty Lee speaks up.

“You know ?”

“Ty, not now.” Azula says, trying to get to sleep.

“I'm just saying, you sang to Yasuko and...” Ty Lee says, letting Azula catch on to what she's saying “Tap the headboard once for no, and twice for yes.”

Azula taps the headboard once. And then twice.

Stifling a laugh, Ty Lee kisses Azula on the cheek, slowly and gently rubbing her hands up and down Azula's arm.

“I sat on the roof/And kicked off the moss,” Ty Lee sings softly “Well, a few of the verses/Well, they've got me quite cross/But the sun's been quite kind while I wrote this song-”

“But you didn't write this-” Azula says sleepily, but with a snarky smile.

“It's for people like you that keep it turned on...” Ty Lee continues “So excuse me forgetting/But these things I do/You see, I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue...”

“They're clearly brown.” Azula says, a sleepy smile overtaking her snarky one.

“Anyway, the thing is/What I really mean/Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen.” Ty Lee continues to sing, slowly getting lulled by her own singing voice.

“I accept-” Azula yawns “Your flattery...”

“And you can tell everybody/This is your song/It may be quite simple/But now that it's done,” Ty Lee sings, completely unfazed by her wife's snark “I hope you don't mind/I hope you don't mind/That I put down in words...”

And with the next verse, both Azula and Ty Lee succumb to sleep.

“How wonderful life is while you're in the world.”

12 notes · View notes

roanofarcc · 2 months

Text

PROJECT SUNSHINE CHAPTER SIXTY ONE → PERM MAINTENANCE

summary: steve harrington x oc || read on Ao3

word count. 3.6k || masterlist || ocs moodboard

warnings: cannon typical violence, child abuse, horror, gore, and depictions of mental illness. parts of this story were written pre-season 4 release. cannon divergence.

previous chapter ← → next chapter

tag list: @sattlersquarry, @leptitlu, @two-sides-samecoin

Steve skillfully balanced a bottle of black polish between his knees as he painted Robin’s right hand. She had her head turned, looking over her shoulder and into the Willow’s kitchen where Tamera was busy rolling strands of Nancy’s hair into curlers. Since Robin was unable to gesture with her right hand, she had doubled the intensity of her movements with her left hand, annoyingly so. Steve nearly missed up every time she got too excited but managed to keep the pain off of her skin and only on the nail.

“And then he gave me a C. No English teacher has ever given me a C before,” Robin complained. “My paper was good, I know it was, but I swear he has it out for me!”

Tamera tugged a tad too hard on Nancy’s hair, causing her to wince and squeeze her hands together tighter on her lap. She was hesitant to let Tamera freshen up her perm, considering she’d only ever been to the same hairdresser since she was little, which was pretty common in a town that only had one salon. But after some light begging from Tamera, Nancy agreed but looked to regret it each time Tamera pulled on her hair before pinning the roller tightly against her skull.

To Tamera’s credit, she was learning. Instead of college, she set her sights on a cosmetology license. She needed people to practice on before she enrolled in beauty school. Steve flat-out refused. While he liked Tamera, or more so liked that Robin liked Tamera, he did not trust anyone around his head of hair with scissors unless it was his aunt, who also worked at the only hair salon in Hawkins.

“Did you do something to make him have it out for you?” Tamera asked.

“No! Of course not. I am a delight to have in class!” A quiet laugh sounded from the floor in front of Steve, where Sunshine sat with her freshly trimmed hair and newly painted nails. Robin furrowed her brows at her. “What?”

“You called him sexist for only talking about male authors in class,” Sunshine replied, debunking Robin’s previous statement. The senior-year English teacher was a little bit of an asshole, from what he recalled, but he never did pay too much attention.

With a huff, Robin said, “Yeah, well, am I wrong?” Sunshine shook her head and resumed writing in her journal. Steve almost stopped himself from peering down at what she was writing about because her journals were the one thing she kept close to her heart. Sunshine only ever showed him or anyone else when she felt like she needed to, but from the glance he took, he realized she was writing a list, not one of her stories. He finished Robin’s last finger before leaning down and wrapping his arms around her shoulders before resting his chin on the top of her head.

“Whatcha’ doing?” he asked.

Sunshine didn’t answer right away but instead finished the last word in her list, ‘toothbrush.’ “Making a list.”

“A list for what? I thought your parents got groceries before they left?”

Sunshine’s parents left for a four-day weekend trip that morning. Mr. Torres had a conference up in Michigan and they decided to use it as a romantic getaway. The couple hadn’t gone anywhere since Sunshine returned and she convinced them that a break from Hawkins would do them good. That left her alone until Monday morning, which meant Steve didn’t have to spend time at his home with his parents; he got to relish in the company of his girlfriend undisturbed.

She turned her body, forcing him to let go and sink back into the couch. She looked a little conflicted, her gaze bouncing between him and Robin in the living room and Tamera and Nancy in the kitchen. “It’s for a little trip,” she said after a beat.

Steve furrowed his brows. “We’re going on a trip?” She hadn’t mentioned anything about it before.

Biting down on her lip, Sunshine slowly shook her head. “No. I’m going on a trip. A little one. Tomorrow…”

“What?” He was taken aback. They had planned to spend the whole weekend together, watching movies he borrowed from work.

“I talked to Kali last night, the one who Luke and Leia lived with before they came back to Hawkins with El. She’s another kid from the Lab and she agreed to meet with me in Indy, but she said I had to go alone,” Sunshine explained, but Steve was still confused.

Nancy, with her head full of rollers, stood up from the kitchen stool and crossed her arms over her chest. She wore a look bordering between concern and confusion, probably similar to how Steve looked. “Kali? The one who’s in a gang? Why does she want you to go alone? Why do you need to meet with her in the first place? Is something going on? Is something happening again?”

“No, no, no,” Sunshine said quickly, attempting to ease some of the concern that swelled in the home. “I’ve been remembering things from the Lab that I blocked out for a long time. But now they’re coming back to me and it’s really confusing. Kali has started to be in a lot of them lately and I think maybe it’s a sign. Maybe they’re coming back to me for a reason and maybe she remembers more than I do. I’m going to see if she can give me answers.”

Ever since Starcourt when Sunshine pushed herself way too far, she’d mentioned, briefly, some of the memories that started flooding back to her. Steve never pushed too hard; the memories she’d forgotten about seemed to all have plenty of reason to be scrubbed from her brain. Why they started coming back to her, no one knew, but Steve could tell it was bothering her. The gaps in certain memories left her awake at night; he could tell by the bags under her eyes that she tried to cover up or when she’d sneak out of bed when he stayed over to get some fresh air. And as much as he wanted to help her, there wasn’t much he could do but listen when she wanted to talk about it.

“Do you think she’ll have the answers you’re looking for?” Robin asked. She and Tamera weren’t fully filled in on everything that happened inside the Lab, but Steve and Sunshine pieced together some of it for them. They were smart, though, and Steve had a feeling they had put more of it together on their own.

Sunshine shrugged. “I have no idea,” she sighed. “But she was in a lot of those memories so maybe she can fill in some of the pieces that I’m missing and make sense of some of it. Maybe then I won’t feel as crazy.” She laughed at herself, but it was hollow. Steve frowned and squeezed her shoulder. She smiled back at him and leaned into his touch before she continued. “Kali doesn’t trust people. She hardly trusts me, which is why she asked me to go alone. If I don’t, there’s no chance she’ll talk to me. But I’ll only be gone for a day. And maybe I can convince her to come back to Hawkins with me. I can show her that she doesn’t have to stay on the run; she can find a home here that the rest of us did.”

Tamera asked, “Are her parents here?”

“No. She’s not from Hawkins, according to the twins. Dr. Brenner and Miller took her from somewhere else.” At the mention of Calum’s father, Tamera visibly winced. She had lost her best friend when he moved to Indy with his mother. The two had one final argument after Starcourt that pushed Tamera over the edge, and she hadn’t spoken to him since. She was still hurt, it was written all over her face at the slightest mention of him or anything related to him. Steve figured Calum was in the same boat; the two of them had been inseparable since he could remember.

Nancy opened her mouth, hesitating for a moment before she said, “Do you think she’d want to find a place here? I mean after everything and without a real family in town-”

Underneath Steve’s fingers, he felt Sunshine’s shoulder tense. “I’m her family.”

“No, I know,” Nancy added quickly. “Hawkins isn’t everyone’s ideal town to live in, that’s all. I just don’t want you to get hurt if she doesn’t want to come back here with you.”

It was interesting, Steve thought, the way Nancy spoke to Sunshine. He wasn’t sure what it was exactly, but Nancy always seemed more careful around Sunshine than anyone else. There was an undeniable softness that smoothed out her usual harder tone and a look on her face that he hadn’t seen Nancy take with anyone else. Steve didn’t remember what she had been like around Barb, but he had a feeling it was similar, and Nancy had lost her.

With a sigh, Sunshine toyed with the pendant of her necklace. “It’s her choice if she wants to. I can’t make her. I just…I want her to know she has a place to go and people who care.”

There was no question that Sunshine could handle herself, but he felt like it was his responsibility to worry about her. She must’ve sensed his unease and looked at him, golden eyes soft. “I’ll only be gone for a day. I’ll be on the first bus back to Hawkins on Saturday morning,” she said. “But I have to do this.” And he didn’t plan on stopping her. If she thought talking to her estranged sister would get her the answers she’d been looking for, then she had to do it. But that didn’t mean Steve wasn’t going to worry; that was sort of his job and one he was very good at.

The rest of the afternoon at Tamera’s passed in a gentle blur. Nancy’s hair was restored to its curled form. Robin’s nails were painted black and her hair was cut shorter, Tamera got more practice, and Sunshine finished her list for her first trip out of Hawkins alone.

They all bid each other goodbye as six o’clock rolled around and Steve had to leave for the late shift at Family Video. Nancy and Robin headed home while Steve lingered in front of the Willow’s house with Sunshine. She picked up her bike from the grass and brushed off some of the dirt from the handlebars. She and Robin had ridden to Tamera’s after school together, which they did often since the weather had grown warmer.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drop you off?” Steve asked, twirling his keys around his finger.

“You’ll be late to work.”

Steve playfully rolled his eyes. “I think Keith can manage a couple of minutes without me.”

Rolling her bike onto the sidewalk, she stopped in front of him. It was funny, no matter how many times she looked at him like that, with her head tilted upwards to meet his gaze, cheeks dusted pink, and lips pulled in a small smile, his heart raced.

“I’ll be okay,” she said. “You’ll be over after work, right?”

“Absolutely, sweetheart.” Sunshine smiled a little wider as she leaned in for him to meet her halfway. The kiss was short and sweet but left him feeling as giddy as always. Nearly everything she did left him feeling like some kid with a crush. Even before their first official date, after the Starcourt disaster, Steve was positive Sunshine was the person for him. But getting to date her, to be with her without the unspoken thing hanging between them, was better than he could have imagined. Dating his best friend was blissful. He was sure no one understood him as much as Sunshine did. She eased his worries and pulled him out of his spirals of self-doubt that sometimes hit him hard.

“I was going to tell you about Kali and me visiting her,” she said, pulling away from him slightly. “I wasn’t just going to leave.”

“I know.” Because he trusted her, maybe what some people would consider too much, but it was different between them. Once you go through more than one life-or-death situation with someone, you tend to hold more trust, especially when they have never let you down.

With that, Sunshine took off down the road on her bike, bidding him one last goodbye. He climbed into his car and headed to work. The Family Video store wasn’t the most ideal job, but it was enough for the time being. He wouldn’t be in Hawkins forever, working minimum wage jobs, but he’d stay as long as Sunshine needed to because as he had known since he was a little boy, he’d follow her anywhere.

→←

The trailer park was quiet that evening. The air smelled like spring, budding flowers, and incoming rain. Sunshine parked her bike in front of the Mayfield’s trailer, beside Max’s, and skipped up the front steps with a bag of greasy burgers and fries from the little dinner she passed on the way. After a few knocks, the door swung open to reveal Max.

She was skinnier, her face lacking freckles from the sunshine, and her blue eyes were a little sadder than they used to be. Max had been having a hard time since Starcourt, since Billy died, and she felt it was all her fault. No matter how often Sunshine reminded her that it wasn’t, Max didn’t believe her. In the wake of Billy’s death, his dad left Max’s mom, which forced them to sell their home on Cherry Street and move into the town’s trailer park. Her mom was struggling too, working twice as hard to support them and coping with alcohol when she was off shift. It was a shitty situation, but Sunshine refused to let Max isolate herself. It didn’t matter how hard she tried to push Sunshine away, she stayed pestering the redhead with dinner and small talk to take her mind off of her troubles for at least a little while. If Max hated it, she didn’t say so. Instead, Max always let Sunshine inside her house and ate the food she brought. If she was lucky, Max would talk about school or make small talk.

“I didn’t think you were coming tonight,” Max said, stepping aside to let Sunshine in. She always seemed to stand or sit with her arms crossed, curling into herself any chance she got. Beer cans littered the coffee table and Sunshine had made the mistake of looking at them a little too long. Max huffed before she picked them up, shoving them into the trash. “She had a long day at work. The assholes at her job-” She started to defend her mom, but Sunshine stopped her.

“Hey,” she said, softly. “I know. I just want to make sure you’re okay, that’s all.”

Max kicked a couple of discarded jackets into a pile on the floor, pushing them aside to clear a path to the kitchen. “I’m fine.” She wasn’t. She knew she wasn’t and she knew that Sunshine knew that too.

“I’m sorry I was later than usual,” Sunshine said, switching gears as she sat down the paper bag of food on the counter. “We went to Tamera’s after school.”

“Why didn’t Steve drop you off?” Max asked as she dug into the food.

“He had to work. I didn’t want him to be late.” Max hummed in response.

They ate in silence. After they were finished, Sunshine cleaned up their wrappers and helped Max clean up the rest of the kitchen, so that her mom would have one less thing to stress over in the morning when she woke up. Once they were done, Max sat back at the table and rubbed her head. “You don’t have to do this, you know?” she said, quietly.

“I know,” Sunshine replied. “But since you’re not with the boys as often, this is the only way I get to see you. And this may come as a surprise, but I like hanging out with you.” She really did. Max was like her other younger sister, and she missed the spunky girl she met two years ago. She was still somewhere inside of Max, underneath the rubble of trouble and tragedy. Healing was complicated; Sunshine of all people knew that, and she didn’t expect Max to wake up one morning and revert to the same kid she had once been. Max wouldn’t tell anyone she was struggling; she’d do it all alone and shut everyone else out. Sunshine promised she’d be there though; she’d never give up on any of the kids.

Max rolled her eyes, but there was a small hint of a smile. “I guess I like hanging out with you, sometimes.” Sunshine laughed, musing the hair on top of Max’s head.

"Oh! I forgot I brought you something.” She dug around in her backpack until she found a slightly wrinkled pink envelope covered in stickers of seashells, starfish, and other oceanic items. “El sent your letter to my house and asked me to give it to you. She misplaced your new address.”

Max’s whole demeanor changed. For a brief moment, the child-like giddiness filled her bright eyes as she snatched the letter from Sunshine’s hand and peeled it open. Inside was a one-paged letter on El’s notebook paper. Her letter had come the day before and El had told Sunshine all about her spring break plans with Mike, who was visiting California. El also started to plan Sunshine’s summer visit, listing all of the fun activities she wanted them to do together. Sunshine couldn’t wait to see the ocean for the first time and spend some much-needed quality time with her siblings. They had visited Hawkins during Christmas break, but a few days wasn’t enough time to catch up.

While Max read her letter, Sunshine moved to the sink to refill her glass of water. As the faucet ran, she gazed out at the gravel road between the trailers. The quiet night started to settle in but was interrupted by loud music spilling from a van that pulled into the lot beside the trailer across from Max’s. The music cut and out from the van jumped a kid who Sunshine went to school with, Eddie Munson.

Eddie was loud and boisterous. He was also the leader of the party’s new Dungeons and Dragons club. Mike and Dustin admired the teen. Eddie was far from being considered “cool” in popular high school terms, but he didn’t seem to care about what people thought of him, and to the two boys who had a history of being bullied for being themselves, it was probably nice to see someone so similar to them not give into the pressure of acting like everyone else.

Sunshine wasn’t too sure what to make of Eddie; they hadn’t interacted much, aside from brief hellos when she passed the boys at their lunch table or biked home with them after their meetings.

“Ugh,” Max groaned, appearing beside Sunshine at the window. “He always comes home like that, probably waking up half of the old people who live here.”

“The boys like him.”

“Because they all like the same nerdy game,” Max said. “At least Lucas found a different hobby.” Lucas still participated in the club, but most of his focus was on basketball. Sunshine didn’t know much about the sport, despite having been to all of Lucas’s games that season, but according to Steve, he was really good and would no doubt be team captain come his senior year. Unfortunately, Sunshine’s trip to see Kali meant she’d miss his final game of the season, the championship. But she wished him luck before they left school that afternoon. He seemed to be genuinely enjoying himself, branching out, and finding more friends to connect with. Sunshine was proud of him, as was the rest of the kids for trying to stay afloat in the new world of high school. It was brand new for her too, and after nearly an entire year she still wasn’t sure if she had the hang of it.

“Speaking of Lucas-” Sunshine began but was swiftly cut off by a sharp glare from Max; the effect of El’s letter disappeared.

“Don’t.”

“I was just going to ask if you were going to his game tomorrow.”

Lucas was a sensitive topic for Max. They had been on and off dating, as much as fourteen-year-olds could, all summer. After last summer, Max “officially” broke it off with him. Lucas gave Max the space she needed to cope, while still trying to be one of her best friends. But Max was hurting, bad, and pushed him out each time he tried to get in. He was still just a kid too, reeling from what had happened, so he backed off. Lucas carried his emotions outside his body while Max kept them buried within. He liked Max and would probably wait forever for her for a relationship or just a friendship. Sunshine had a feeling Max knew that and she was scared of it. Love at their age sounded silly and fruitless, but it was different after what they’d been through. Lucas was one of Max’s best friends; they needed each other now more than ever, but Max was having a hard time accepting that Lucas was trying to prove it to her.

Max shrugged lamely. “It’s not like he cares,” she muttered.

“I think he cares a lot more than you think.”

#stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington x oc #steve harrington x original character #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things 4 #project sunshine #max mayfield #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #platonic stobin

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