#or humor as well depending on what their direction is aiming for

[the-monkey-ruler]

I was reading The Monkey King's Daughter (you can read the whole book for an hour) and apparently the protagonist is also Guanyin's grandchild? Can Guanyin be shipped?

I mean I can’t say like what are like the moral implications of shipping GuanYin itself cause that is so not my place but I’m still going to answer this cause it kinda of interesting when it comes to modern media. First off saying that like I have never really seen romance done with GuanYin. At least in a serious way. But if I had to take a guess it can be seen as 'possible' as much as like shipping anyone in Chinese mythos, in that isn't really taken seriously at all. In a lot of modern fan spaces there are a variety of crack ships for more humorous or hypothetical situations like I have seen literally the Star of Venus shipped with Jade Emperor just cause. But I don't see much with buddhas or bodhisattvas in either post-modern media nor in fan spaces. At least that isn't Wukong or Sanzang since they are both Buddhas. And I have done a whole thing about how Wukong for decades wasn’t seen as a romantic figure until like there was a huge character reconstruction, but that isn’t usually the case for most characters.

I would say that the most mainstream instance I can think off the top of my head is The Lost Empire (2001) where it had the main character has a romantic plot with Gaunyin herself. Of course, that wasn't really a masterpiece within itself but this was considered like a 'bad choice' more so that it was just a very strange and awkward romance at that.

Funny enough I think I see more romantic for humor's sake on Guanyin in comic books or games as likes gags at most. Like in Westward comics (later a tv series) Guanyin has a celestial-turned-demon trying to pursue him that he always rejects. Another is more play for laughs but Guanyin in the Fei Ren Zai where people just don't know it's Guanyin and think she is so attractive.

I've seen some games that have Guanyin as like a pretty boy/girl but otherwise nothing even close to a romance plot. Those are more just for like aesthetics of making every character look overly attractive to sell it.

The best I can say is that is just kinda strange and a little strange personally but I can't say that it can be taken seriously. I mean Wukong is supposed to be a Buddha by the end of the novel, so if The Monkey King's Daughter has it that a buddha can have a daughter then there wouldn't be anything stopping the author from having a bodhisattva having kids.

[boundinparchment]

Dream a Little Dream of Me - XXXVIII

Celestia had a cruel sense of humor. He knew this, even before his days as a student. But to be given a soulmate? Now, when he openly blasphemed against the cursed island in the sky? He would outlive you and the dreadful fated bond that haunted your shared dreams. There was little point in this. He could at least put a Vision to good use. People were nothing but disappointments. He had no use for you. Until you pulled the bow across your instrument and awoke a part of him long buried by self-hatred and arrogance. Soulmate AU; Il Dottore/Female reader w/ established personality and backstory. Slow burn. Lore and world speculation and interpretation within; follows canon story where possible. On AO3 here.

So far, your combat trials were some of the most impressive sessions he’d seen in a while.   

You weren’t perfect.  Far from it.  Your aim needed work.  You had a hard time leveraging the claymore properly.  Such things only came with time, when one knew the weight and balance of a weapon as well as they knew themselves.  

A second shining blade made itself known with the first, pure Geo energy so refined that it passed for diamond.  Pantalone would be jealous, certainly.  In the first few trials, he speculated that your abilities mirrored his own, in that his claymore became unnecessary and he could freely wield his Cryo needles without a hand on his weapon.  

He was half-right.  You required the claymore in order to retain the Geo swords, however.  You had to direct the Geo energy somehow and despite the lack of familiarity with your powers, you moved as if you knew exactly what you were doing.  If he counted just right, it always seemed as though you were following a very specific rhythm when landing your blows.  Your claymore’s swing was accompanied by the lightest enhancement of a particular pitch, depending on how you swung it.

Your combat abilities weren’t the only thing subject to musical structures.  Silence that prevailed too long was filled with humming, sometimes fragmented until you found the right note and flow.  Occasionally, the repetition set his teeth on edge.  But when he addressed it and your head snapped up from the book you were reading (probably something left behind by a stray assistant), he realized from your expression that you had no idea you were doing it.

Music was as much a part of you as machines were for him.  He lived and breathed moving parts and systems and the perfection with which they operated; no doubt, music was as precious to you as your own blood, something he knew but never saw in practice, not even in your dream-shares.  Then again, you’d had a proper outlet for such energies and now all of that desire had nowhere to go.

Zandik looked down at the work table in front of him, the surface littered with parts and wires and drawings.  Omega was handling everything with Akademiya, as expected, which left him with time to look over the schematics for weapons manufacturing.  Easy work, really.  Boring work.

He’d given the plans all but five minutes of his time before he found himself examining the cello neck again.  You’d handed it over but not without several questions, all of which were understandable.  This remnant was precious to you, even if it only seemed like a chunk of carved and varnished wood to him.

You…directed…your elemental energy…almost as if you were conducting…

Something you’d never done, as far as he was aware.  If you had, it was an experience you did not impart to him in any way.

What if…

Ah, such a thing would be simple enough.  A receiver on both objects, intended for long distance, sensitive enough to acknowledge even the smallest nuance in motion.  He’d attempted something similar before he’d learned how to control his claymore without such interference.  The Akasha modifications were a more taxing option and he’d paid the price for it heavily before finding a more efficient solution.

A tool like this might make it easier for you to wield; better still, it might make you more sure in your strikes, confident in your abilities.

As for the other problem…

Zandik sifted through a few stray notes on the table.  He’d had to go by memory for the shape and the size, and it would require far more research, but this posed its own set of problems.  

Wood would, of course, be best.  He could hear Sandrone and Pantalone criticizing his prototype based on the material alone, let alone the notion of construction.  It would be more efficient to trust another in this particular area.  But the urge to create something unique, something no one else would ever be able to recreate, sat in his very joints and made his muscles itchy.  

So many of his advancements were attributed to others, his contributions pushed aside because of his moniker of outcast .

But this?

A cello so clear and radiant that it would only be rivaled by the Tsaritsa herself (and maybe not even then).  The material didn’t carry sound well on its own but an amplifier and a transmitter were easy additions.  It wouldn’t be possible to start until he returned to Snezhnaya.  Hard enough to keep you from spotting anything you shouldn’t as it was.

He heard a soft groan from the small lounge chair nearby and looked up to find you stretching, your nose still buried in whatever novel you’d found to occupy your mind.  Although your eyes had yet to leave the page, you were poised to get up, flex, find something else to do.

Case in point.

Zandik placed the instrument neck down and smoothly shuffled the various pages in front of him just as you came up beside him.

“Don’t stop on my account, Zandik.”

“There’s little to be done right now that cannot wait until I have proper facilities.”

“You heard a composition meant for you way too early; the piece you overheard was far from finished.  I always enjoy hearing you sort out ideas, what you’re working on…”

You were shrewd; you would still be in Omega’s dreamcycle if you weren’t.  Hiding this from you wouldn’t be viable forever.  

Especially when you looked at him like that .  Earnest, curious, encouraging and genuine in every aspect of it, despite everything you’d endured.  

He could deal with politicians looking out for their own self-interest.  He could deal with the other Harbingers just as vicious in their ambitions as they were towards one another.  The dreams had been nothing more than another experiment and he never anticipated they would truly result in you .  Finding you had been a happy coincidence, a pet project, an outcome he considered but never anticipated.

The plea at the end of your words had been slight, easy to miss if he were anyone else.  In your defense, you had little to occupy you for the moment and he was, for all intents and purposes, your only other connection for the moment.

That, too, would change upon your arrival to Snezhnaya.

A caged bird would never sing and he knew better than anyone what it meant to have the freedom required for creation.

Zandik turned and reached a gloved hand to brush your neck as he leaned down to whisper a teasing, “I don’t think so,” against your skin.

He heard your breath hitch but you didn’t pull away, didn’t move, and he longed to bury his nose in your hair.  You smelled of sweetness, of summer flowers, undercut by sensations that dreams could never capture.  He steadied himself with his other hand on the table and swallowed as you moved your head slightly towards him, cheeks brushing before you looked at him out of the corner of your eye.  His heart shuddered.

What if…

The distance to be crossed was negligible, so miniscule that neither he nor you needed to lean before your lips met.  He willed his heart rate to slow, not that it would listen, your lips soft and warm.  

It was over as quickly as it began.  His lips tingled and then burned, his breaths short but steady.  You had yet to move, to pull away, your hands seeking amongst the straps and ornaments of his coat.  He could not bring himself to step away, not yet. 

Zandik pressed the lightest of kisses to the corner of your jaw, just below your ear, where your pulse seemed to be thrumming.

 Everything was a delicate balance and while he never minded exploring opportunities, this was…precarious.

The sigh that escaped your lips was the closest sound to bliss he’d ever heard in his presence; the flip in his gut was unsettling, too unlike a moment of piloting a Ruin Golem, and yet he felt as if he would endure that sensation eternally if you…

Zandik caught the slightest movement out of the corner of his eye, the doors to the workshop open a fraction and a boot just barely through the doorway.  He flicked his eyes up to find Omega, mask off, ruin core spinning, hesitating .  For once, the Segment was acutely aware of itself, its place.  

Nothing from the Segment network, no attempt to communicate.

The Segment retreated, its boot disappearing from the doorway before the doors closed silently.

He felt your hands against his chest, seemingly smoothing out his lapels, tracing the decorative edges of his coat.  Eternity in all of a minute.

Oh, how he wished he could preserve this.

[roanniom]

BOARDING SCHOOL!STEVE!!!! your mind!!!

what do you headcannon as the dynamic between steve and the reader would be? i feel like there's definitely potential for enemies to lovers here...

Boarding School!Steve Harrington x Fem!reader

Boarding School!Steve AU

Oh definitely enemies to lovers.

The first day he meets you, he stumbles into your study room in the library. You’re studying feverishly and his intrusion is entirely unwelcome.

“This room has been reserved,” you say curtly from over your book. Steve has been peering through the little window in the door, but he looks over the shoulder at you when you speak.

“Good, so they probably won’t think to check in here?” he asks.

“That depends. Who are you running from?”

“The welcome committee. If I hear about one more school club I’ll lose it,” he says with a lopsided grin, dropping himself into a chair beside you. You frown at how he’s made himself comfortable.

“That’d be Miles. He’s planning on going to a state school,” you say distastefully, returning your attention to your book and flipping the page. “You’re safe. That boy hasn’t seen the inside of a study room since freshman orientation. I don’t think he remembers they exist.”

Steve snorts and leans back in his chair, surveying you filling for the first time. Taking in your excellent posture, your neat clothes, and the stacks of books and papers around you.

“Not a fan of state schools?”

“They’re fine,” you shrug, not looking up at him. “If you don’t plan on succeeding in life.”

“Wow,” Steve let’s out a laugh, flexing his hands open and closed. You notice them in your peripheral vision and try to pretend you didn’t. “You’re a little intense, aren’t ya?”

“The word I like is motivated,” you counter. You place the book down on the table and fix him with a stare. “I’m assuming you’re not…”

“Steve,” Steve offers, reaching a hand out to shake, a smile on his face in spite of your coldness. “Steve Harrington. Transfer senior. Unmotivated. Probably destined for a fate worse than state school.”

The corner of your mouth quirks and you work hard to suppress the smile he’s pulling from you. He’s charming, the bastard. You have no time for charming. You do shake his hand, however, and tell him your name.

“A fate worse than state school. That’s a defeatist attitude, Harrington. I’d rather…” you trail off, not sure if you should go that dark, but Steve finishes for you.

“You’d rather die? Harsh!” He takes the sentiment with good humor. “Ok so if my future isn’t worth living for, what’s the future you’re aiming for that’s got you cooped up in here all day?”

“The Ivy League,” you say without a second of hesitation. Steve’s eyebrows lift.

“Well excuse me. I’m in the presence of greatness,” he says with mock reverence. You roll your eyes as he stands up and gives you a slight bow. “I guess I should get out of your hair then and let you get back to more important things.”

You finally smile, both charmed against your will and relieved to see him put his hand on the door knob.

“Yeah, you probably should.”

“One last thing - can you point me in the direction of the basketball court? That’s the only place on this campus that I’d give a shit about.” He shrugs to himself. “Though I’m sure it’s too late in the year to join the team at this point.”

You laugh in response. A jock.

Of course.

“Did you see the dining hall yet?”

“Yeah.”

“The gym is in the building directly to the right.” You look back to your book, but then something compels you to add, “The janitor leaves it unlocked on Tuesday nights, if you’re looking for some time on the court after hours.”

“How do you know that, book worm like you,” Steve asks incredulously, half way out the door. “You ball when you’re not in the library?”

You smirk up at him.

“No, I swim laps in the pool when nobody’s around.” It comes across as a challenge, both to his perception of you and to his teasing.

“Sneaking around after hours. What would the Dean say?” Steve waggles his eyebrows before stepping out into the greater library. He looks both ways to ensure the coast is clear and then looks back to you with a grin. “See you around, Ivy League.”

He disappears as the door swings shut, causing a draft that ruffles your loose papers. And as you try to settle back into studying, you can’t help but feel ruffled yourself.

[msommers]

barbarian, bard, rogue for riya, aphrodite and jorina!

thank uuu!! // d&d character class asks

barbarian: What makes your muse angry? How do they manage their anger? Has their rage ever led them to destroy something important?

RIYA — answered here!

APHRODITE — answered here!

JORINA — well she’s a city elf in thedas so as you can imagine she’s got quite a lot to be mad about, though she doesn't reach rage status very often. she’s prestiged the compartmentalization skill at this point, managing anger is simple to do whether it’s necessary to keep collected in a high stakes scenario or just to refrain from snapping at somebody. i can’t really see jorina being destructive???? unless her family is under fire but idk.

bard: How does your muse handle social situations? Are they personable, charming, awkward, shy? How does your muse respond to being the center of attention?

RIYA — riya thinks she nails like 95% of her interactions, and those rare 5% fails are because somebody had lame vibes and didn't want to match her energy (this is about 80% a joke). she aims to come across as charming and easygoing, to be someone that you can enjoy speaking with and be comfortable around, but obviously there are quite a few people who would rather she just keep quiet. her confidence is through the roof though, even if she's aware her particular brand isn't going to be received easily. doesn't mind being the center of attention so long as it's not in a dreadfully negative light (see: being accused of murder by a bunch of folk lmfao). 

APHRODITE — the thing is that aphrodite has the strongest gravitational pull in almost any room she’s in, but her prima donna levels can reach so high that she turns insufferable on occasion. her favored terrain is being in the spotlight! between the vibrant energy and great humor, she's at ease in most social scenarios and even finds enjoyment in pulling focus directly to her.

JORINA — please let her out of them 😭 she doesn’t belong there 😭😭 definitely has an awkward and uncomfortable vibe to her during most social events, can manage better with one-on-ones and small groups. solid discomfort being the center of attention, can tolerate it only when she's giving directions to other scouts/soldiers.

rogue: How secretive is your muse? What are they secretive about? What would it take for your muse to spill their secrets?

RIYA — i don't think she's very secretive by nature but she would be willing to keep things quiet if trusted with them, though depending on the severity she may end up consulting somebody she's close for moral discussion. she'd probably spill a less serious secret for some laughs but anything beyond that i'd say she's good at keeping her lips sealed.

APHRODITE — gives the impression that she'd blab everybody's secrets for the drama of it all, would actually take your secret to her grave. she loves the evasion of distracting people from asking about secretive topics, it's a sorta mini game to her seeing if she'll succeed in a smooth turnaround or not. might spill secrets to her partner if drunk enough or she believes the hidden information could cause a lot of serious harm, not just fun dramatics. 

JORINA — i started off thinking she had no secrets to keep, but then i was like well, okay. she'd probably have secrets to do with her work between not letting information leak and keeping soldiers calm, and then i also remembered she did in fact bury her feelings for aleksi so deep that sometimes she would forget for a minute that they were even there so LMAO. i'd say she's good at it because of the expertise in unimpressed, bored expressions and lack of needing people's approval, and she wouldn't easily give up any secrets she's holding onto. aleksi and some members of the inner circle could talk them out of her, but that's it.

[ducktracy]

If you met someone that got into Porky/Daffy shorts bc of their dynamic in LTC, what classic shorts would be the first you’d recommend to them? I think Porky Pig’s Feat, Fool Coverage and ofc The Daffy Doc would be good starting points

OH MANNNN… this is such an interesting question but i really have to think about because “all of them” is not a good answer HAHA OH GEEZ..

i was just thinking yesterday about how i think Duck Soup to Nuts is a very good “definitive” Porky and Daffy short. it’s not my absolute favorite (because there are too many great P+D shorts out there), but i think it strikes a VERY good balance and nuance in terms of humor and characterization especially. i’m a fan of the somewhat more antagonistic Porky and Daffy shorts, and this definitely scratches that itch but it’s not ENTIRELY antagonistic. Daffy is very very charismatic and charming rather than completely obnoxious, he manages to talk circles around Porky through actual cunningness (and Porky’s impressionable tendencies are always helpful too with that) rather than just annoying him into submission, and Porky puts up an equal fight which makes the short interesting—it’s not a guarantee that neither Daffy nor Porky are going to win. that’s one of my favorite aspects of their dynamic in that there is always room for versatility

that versatility can also be a bit of a vice too, in that there are SO MANY variations on their dynamic that you kinda need to know what you’re looking for! you have shorts where they’re enemies, shorts where they’re buddies, shorts where they’re some other third things, shorts where they’re a sidekick/leader duo… LTC tends to follow the formula of “Daffy drives Porky out of his mind by being obnoxious”, and if you like that particular dynamic then maybe i’d recommend shorts likeee My Favorite Duck, Daffy Duck Slept Here, Yankee Doodle Daffy, Fool Coverage.. honestly i think every Bob McKimson directed P+D short could apply here HAHAHA but that’s never a bad thing!!

my personal favorite P+D shorts are probably Baby Bottleneck, Porky Pig’s Feat, You Ought to Be in Pictures, Porky’s Last Stand, My Favorite Duck, Daffy Doodles, Riff Raffy Daffy, The Daffy Doc, Tom Turk and Daffy, Drip Along Daffy… SEE I AM GENUINELY STRUGGLING NOT TO LIST EVERY PORKY AND DAFFY SHORT EVER MADE LOL. i genuinely don’t think there’s a pig and duck cartoon that i don’t like in some form… not counting the 3 or so that revolve around racial stereotypes and even then 2 out of those 3 are essentially the same short. there are so many that can be recommended for a myriad of reasons—i like these particular shorts because i think they strike a great balance with everything i like about the characters. Baby Bottleneck is especially successful in that it has them both as partners and adversaries, and so you get to see both sides of that dynamic (and it ends in a “tie” so they’re on equal footing throughout the whole thing!), and i definitely agree that Porky Pig’s Feat is subjectively objectively one of the best Porky and Daffy shorts around

i could write dissertations on every single Porky and Daffy short and why you should watch them (and i aim to, i’d be lying if i said that wasn’t one of the reasons why i started my review blog), but i think it’s really just something you yourself have to dig into depending on your tastes! Porky’s Duck Hunt i think was the first Porky and Daffy short i saw as an adult because i was curious to see what Daffy’s first short was like—it’s not really a cartoon i would recommend as someone’s first classic exposure to the characters, but in my case it got me thinking about the history and chronology of the characters and… well, we all know how i turned out now!

and i do agree with your choices!! all of those shorts are shorts i love dearly. i love and have seen these shorts so many times that i have a hard time trying to put myself in the shoes of someone who has not/i realize “WATCH THEM ALL” is not a valid answer LOL. but i really do think that they are such a versatile and MALLEABLE pair of characters that there are so many nuances to their multiple dynamics it’s really just something you have to sort of parse out and see for yourself—watch them and see what shorts you tend to gravitate more towards and go from there. but i really would recommend most of them if i could HAHA

[fredalan]

Michael Cuscuna by Jimmy Katz

Michael Cuscuna R.I.P. 1948-2024

Our fantastic friend, then client, Michael Cuscuna, record producer/historian extraordinaire and co-founder of Mosaic Records, passed away on April 19, 2024. Both of us –Alan and Fred– wrote remembrances that we’re reposting here.

.....

Michael Cuscuna by Thomas Staudter

I knew the voice of Michael Cuscuna before I ever met the man. Growing up in an area of New Jersey where we could pull in both New York and Philadelphia stations, I would listen to him DJ at WMMR out of Philly. He had a quintessential FM DJ voice — soft-spoken, intimate, gravelly, authoritative. He didn’t yammer on, but I remember he was clever and his sense of humor was dry as a bone. He played a mix of progressive rock and some things that clung to the precipice of musical genres.  

Years later our paths merged. I started seeing his name on the backs of albums I’d play on my college jazz radio show — now I was the DJ, and he had become a prolific producer, supervising dates for a diverse list of artists, including many dedicated to the avant garde. He also produced for Bonnie Raitt and other groundbreaking musicians. I am searching my memory in vain to recall how we became connected, but he was also creating a monthly promo disk sent to radio stations by Crawdaddy Magazine and I became his producer, using the free facilities of the college station to record and edit. He would collect the interview tapes from the magazine’s feature writers, I would edit them into a coherent radio show, then he would come in and record his host segments. Out of that association, I started writing reviews for Crawdaddy of new jazz releases. He was as wickedly funny in person as I remembered him on the radio. I was a little in awe of his extraordinary knowledge of music — an artist’s historical significance, how a musician’s style linked that person to the artists that came before and after, and why certain artists deserved more recognition than they had received by the public. He turned me onto a lot of music. I think we did the show for a couple of years.   

More time passed, and Michael came into my life again through my partner at our media advertising agency, Fred/Alan. By now, Michael had established himself as an important compiler of jazz reissues that went above and beyond what was typical at the time. Starting with Blue Note Records, but ultimately including the libraries of other labels, he’d go into the vaults and unearth the unreleased sides and alternate takes and place them alongside the more well-known songs. His two-fer series for Blue Note was particularly noteworthy. On the back of that success, he and a former Blue Note executive named Charlie Lourie created Mosaic Records. Their concept was to do numbered, limited editions in luxurious box sets aimed at the collector market. Initially vinyl only, they switched to CDs when that was the prevailing release format. The boxes were gorgeous, each with a booklet filled with photos, an essay by a prominent jazz historian, and absolutely accurate discographical information. They specialized in “complete” collections depending on the frame they decided was relevant. That frame might have been the three-day recording binge from 1957 by organist Jimmy Smith that resulted in enough material for three CDs, the unreleased complete recordings of Charlie Parker’s live solos recorded by Dean Benedetti, or the complete Capitol recordings of the Nat King Cole trio, a box that weighed-in at 18 CDs. They were sold only through the mail, direct to consumers. But they weren’t reaching the market and needed help. In an earlier era, my partner Fred Seibert had attached himself to Michael to learn as much as he could about producing records. Knowing the two of us, Michael asked if we could come up with a direct marketing campaign. In our typically arrogant belief that we knew how to do almost anything or could figure it out, we said yes. 

We began producing a catalog that was mailed out to jazz enthusiasts, slowing building a list of devoted listeners and buyers. My job was to write that catalog. We dissolved the advertising agency in 1992, and mailed catalogs gave way to internet promotion, but I continued writing the sales copy for each release, save one or two that I didn’t do for reasons lost to time. I just wrote one last month for an upcoming set featuring vibraphonist Bobby Hutcherson.  

I developed a format for my essays. I started with some thesis about why that artist deserved more recognition, or why the music from that era was crucially important — in other words, why you absolutely had to own that collection. I segued into a couple paragraphs of biography, followed by a few paragraphs where I singled-out important tracks or tried to convey in words the feeling, the sound, the artistry of the musician. I wrapped it up with more “don’t delay” language. In all those years, each and every time I approached a new assignment I had two thoughts crowding my mind — will Michael agree with my thesis? Will Michael take issue with the way I chose to describe the music? Each package gave me an opportunity to do a deep dive into the music, but I knew I didn’t have Michael’s personal connection to many of the artists, or his historian’s perspective on the music. And by the way, he was himself a damn good writer. It never stopped thrilling me when he’d send back an email merely correcting a calendar date, or the number of unreleased tracks, with a message that he thought it was otherwise perfect. More than anything I wanted to impress and satisfy Michael. I was alway so happy that I could.  

I think they had done four releases when we got involved in 1984. The company is closing in on 200 box sets. I can’t believe it’s been a 40-year association. 

We lost Charlie more than 20 years ago. This weekend, Michael passed after a long illness. I will miss his husky laugh, his personal stories about the musicians we both obsessed over, and the gratitude he expressed each time I turned in an assignment. 

To many, his name was a name on the back of an album jacket. To those of us who knew him, we know him as someone who single-handedly rescued the Blue Note archive and other treasures from oblivion, who introduced us to overlooked artists such as saxophonist Tina Brooks, and who demanded we take a second look at music that was significant and mind-blowing. As a colleague, as a client, but mostly as a music lover, I am forever in his debt. My sympathies to the family of this enormously important figure in music. RIP Michael Cuscuna. 

–Alan Goodman (repost from Facebook) 

..... 

Michael Cuscuna, photograph by Jimmy Katz

Michael Cuscuna

Michael Cuscuna, one of my great inspirations and sometime collaborator, passed away this weekend (April 19, 2024) from cancer. Being a cancer survivor  last year myself, when someone I’ve known and worked with for over 50 years it hit particularly hard.

Blue Cuscuna: 1999 promotional sampler from Toshiba-EMI [Japan]

Michael has been the most consequential jazz record producer of the past half century, a man who had not only a passion, but the relentlessness necessary to will the entire history of the music into being. Don’t believe it? Check out the more than 2600 (!) of his credits on Discogs. Substantial and meaningful he might have been, but to me, he was a slightly older friend who was always there with a helping hand. Hopefully, I was able to hand something back on occasion. 

As I said when he answered “7 Questions” eight years ago: “I first encountered Michael as a college listener to his “freeform,” major station, radio show in New York, and was fanboy’d out when a mutual friend introduced us at [an] open rehearsal for [Carla Bley’s and Michael Mantler’s] Jazz Composer’s Orchestra at The Public Theater (MC has a photographic memory: “It was Roswell [Rudd]’s piece or Grachan [Moncur III]’s. You were darting nervously around the chairs with your uniform of the time – denim jean jacket, forgettable shirt and jeans.”) By 1972 or 73, he’d joined Atlantic Records as a producer, and since that was my career aspiration, I’d give him a call every once in awhile. He’d patiently always make time for my rambling and inane questions, and I never forgot his kindness to a drifting, unfocused, fellow traveler. 

“...patiently always make time for my rambling and inane questions...” says a lot about Michael. His raspy voice could sometimes seem brusque, but ask anyone and they will tell you that he always made time to talk. Especially about jazz. 

I desperately wanted to be a record producer and Michael was one of the first professionals I encountered. He had already produced my favorite Bonnie Raitt LP when somehow or other I bullied my way into his Atlantic Records office, where he was a mentee of the legendary Joel Dorn. Over the next few years, Michael was often amused at some of the creative decisions I made, but he was always supportive and even would sometimes ask me to make a gig when he couldn’t. When I spent a year living in LA, he invited me over to the studio while he was mining the history of Blue Note Records that would define his life for the next half century. I completely failed to understand what the great service to American culture he was about to unleash. Along with Blue Note executive Charlie Lourie, Michael’s research resulted in a series of double albums (”two-fers” in 70s speak), but little did the world know what was on Michael’s and Charlie’s minds.

The Cuscuna/Lourie Blue Note “Two-Fers” that ignited Mosaic Records

“I don’t think it’s generally understood just how imperiled the musical and visual archives of Blue Note Records were at one point, and just how heroically Michael stepped in to make sure this unparalleled American music survived for future generations. If you like jazz, you owe the man.” –Evan Haga 

(Joe Maita does a great interview about Michael's career here.) 

Fast forward a few years. The air went out of my record producing tires, I became the first creative director of MTV, I quit MTV and along with my partner Alan Goodman started the world’s first media “branding” agency. Leafing through DownBeat one day I saw an ad that started a new relationship with Michael that would last, on one level or another, for the rest of his life: the “mail order” jazz reissue label Mosaic Records. 

Charlie Lourie & Michael Cuscuna at Mt. Fuji Jazz Festival, Japan 1987. Photograph by Gary Vercelli / CapRadio Music

Long story short, in 1982 Michael returned my check for the first two Mosaic  releases with a note asking for some help. Initially, Mosaic wasn’t the sure fire, instant success Michael and Charlie had hoped for, did I have any ideas? I did, but no time to do anything other than make suggestions, we were busy trying to get our own shop off the ground. This cycle repeated itself for another couple of years when this time when Michael called he said Mosaic was on death’s door. Fred/Alan was in better shape, so Alan and I, on our summer vacation, came up with the first Mosaic “brochure,” convinced the guys we knew what we were doing (I’d read a few paragraphs in a direct mail book in a bookstore) and, with nothing to lose, Charlie and Michael took the plunge with us. Success! 42 years later, the former Fred/Alan and Frederator CFO at the helm, Alan and I always answer any call from Mosaic.

The first Mosaic Record box set 1983

There aren’t many people in the world like Michael Cuscuna. The world’s culture will miss him. I will miss him. Most of all, of course, his wife and children will miss him. 

[direct-cremation]

Writing a Thoughtful Eulogy: Guidance for Funeral Services

Direct Cremation Service stands out as one of the most dependable funeral homes in Montreal, and through this blog, we aim to inform you about the process of crafting a meaningful eulogy for a funeral service. Composing a eulogy can be a challenging yet important task, offering an opportunity to honor and remember a loved one in a profound and respectful manner. In this blog, we'll provide valuable advice and tips to assist you in creating a eulogy that beautifully captures the essence of the departed and offers solace to those in attendance.

How can you begin drafting a meaningful eulogy?

Initiating the creation of a meaningful eulogy involves reflecting on cherished memories and gathering thoughts about the departed. Take a moment to reminisce about shared experiences, special qualities, and the impact they had on others. These reflections serve as the foundation for crafting a heartfelt tribute.

What are some essential components to include in a eulogy?

A heartfelt eulogy often comprises the following essential components:

Introduction: Commence by introducing yourself and your relationship with the departed. This establishes a personal connection and sets the tone for your tribute.

Personal Anecdotes: Share personal anecdotes, stories, or memories that showcase the unique character and qualities of the departed. These anecdotes offer insight into their personality and leave a lasting impression.

Achievements and Contributions: Highlight the accomplishments, talents, and contributions of the departed, whether in their personal or professional life. Acknowledge their positive influence and the legacy they leave behind.

Inspirational Quotes or Poems: Incorporate meaningful quotes, poems, or passages that resonate with the departed's life and values. These literary elements add depth and emotional resonance to your tribute.

Closing Remarks: Conclude the eulogy with heartfelt closing remarks, expressing gratitude for the time shared with the departed and offering comfort to those mourning their loss. A heartfelt farewell provides closure and leaves a lasting impact.

How can you ensure your eulogy resonates with the audience?

To ensure your eulogy resonates with the audience, consider the following suggestions:

Practice and Preparation: Rehearse your eulogy multiple times to familiarize yourself with the content and delivery. Practice allows for smoother delivery and ensures sincerity in your tribute.

Conciseness: Keep your eulogy concise and focused on key aspects of the departed's life. Avoid overwhelming the audience with excessive details, and instead, emphasize meaningful highlights and sentiments.

Emotional Sensitivity: Be mindful of the emotional atmosphere of the funeral service and adjust your delivery accordingly. Allow yourself to express genuine emotions while maintaining composure to effectively convey your message.

Respectful Tone: Show respect and sensitivity towards the departed and their loved ones by maintaining a respectful tone throughout your eulogy. Avoid controversial topics or humor that may be deemed inappropriate for the occasion.

Feedback and Revision: Seek feedback from trusted individuals to refine your eulogy and ensure it resonates with the audience. Incorporate constructive criticism to enhance the impact and effectiveness of your tribute.

In conclusion, crafting a thoughtful eulogy for a funeral service is a meaningful way to honor the memory of a loved one and provide comfort to those grieving their loss. By drawing on cherished memories, incorporating essential components, and delivering with sincerity and sensitivity, you can create a tribute that celebrates a life well-lived and leaves a lasting impression on those in attendance. Remember, a well-crafted eulogy serves as a heartfelt expression of love and remembrance, offering solace during a time of mourning.

[thefanficmonster]

Few Too Many

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing, In-game violence and death, Suggestive comments

Genre: Protective fluff, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Jealousy is a dangerous thing, especially when the jealous person is armed with a gun....in a game of Counter Strike. At least Y/N’s friend will now know not to mess around and flirt with her, especially not with Corpse around.

Requested by 🐐 Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your request! Sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post your request but here it finally is! I didn’t want to make it IRL violence to avoid triggering anyone while I also felt it’d be very ooc for Corpse to beat someone up but I still hope you enjoy the fic if you come across it and read it! Love, Vy ❤

“Hey everyone!“ Y/N greets her squad as they all customize their characters while I sit there, observing and unknowing of what I’m supposed to do. “I invited Corpse to play with us today, hope y’all don’t mind.”

“Of course not! Nice to finally meet you, Corpse. We’ve heard a ton about you from Y/N, thanks for making our girl the happiest she’s ever been.“ One of her friends says, the tone of his voice suggesting he’s only half-joking with the dad like comment he made.

“Nice to meet you too, man. Glad I’m the one she gave the chance of making her happy. That’s all I ever wanna do.“ Though it may sound cheesy, as guys, her friends can probably read into how genuinely I mean what I’ve said.

Dating a girl with only guy friends has it’s pros and cons. Which outweigh which is still up for debate since I’m still researching, but so far so good in my opinion. This is the first time I’m interacting with them directly so I’ve still got a long way to go in terms of getting to know them and the details of their relationship with Y/N better. Regardless, I at least know they can easily understand me and put themselves in my shoes if I ever ‘mess things up’ with Y/N and she goes to complain to them - something that will most likely never happen. I’d never dare make this girl upset. Chances are, if I do, her friends won’t get to me on time - I would deliver my own punishment just the way I think I deserve it. However, there’s also the chance of them getting super protective of her and ganging up on me over something as small as a fight. By the many things and stories Y/N’s shared with me about them, I believe they wouldn’t think twice about kicking someone’s ass for her. They’re not massive dudes - I’ve seen pictures of them - but I for one don’t ever wanna see em angry.

“Ay bro, what’d you do to score our best girl? You must know what she likes. If so please, by all means, do tell.“ One of them, not the one who was previously talking, speaks up, his words making me furrow my brows in both confusion and irritation.

I open my mouth to complain as I slowly start cracking my knuckles when Y/N and her friends beat me to it. Thing is, Y/N’s friend group consists of three guys and her and yet four voices scolded the guy that made that suggestive comment. That being said, this guy probably isn’t considered to be one of her friends, at least not one that’s a permanent part of her friend group.

“Seth, cut it out!“ The guy I was previously speaking to says sharply before softening his tone to refer to me, “Sorry about my brother, excuse his lack of brain cells, please.“

Just then, I also receive a message from someone. Checking my phone, turns out it’s Y/N who by the way is currently in the living room while I’m in the recording room. Her text reads:

Y/N ~ Ignore Seth. I told Leo to not invite him but he’s still here somehow

I send her back a quick reassuring text before answering the guy I now know is named Leo, “No worries, it’s fine.”

“See? The guy can take a joke, you’re all just freaking out over nothing!“ Seth laughs, reminding me and the others of how loud he is compared to us.

Despite acting like it’s no big deal, I can’t help but admit to myself that this behavior of Seth’s has awoken a deeply buried suspicion of mine that’s not only mine but also arises in every guy whose girlfriend hangs out with a lot of guys. It’s not that I don’t trust Y/N - she could literally blindfold me and tell me to walk through a pool of lava, promising it wouldn’t hurt and I’d do it - but we all know about that saying that every guy in a group with one girl has liked said girl at least once.

Disturbing to think these four, including Seth five, dudes could’ve possibly been my competition at some point. It’s nice that they’re all super chill about it, mostly cause some of them have girlfriends as I was told.

Nevertheless, we get over that hiccup and carry on with the small talk and preparations for the game. Since it’s my first time playing CSGO, Y/N, Leo and her other friend Clancy explain the mechanics to me in detail to avoid me getting confused mid-game and getting myself killed. When they finish, we start the round and wait for the game’s algorithm to separate us into two teams which Y/N jokingly refers to as cops and robbers. Unfortunately, the end result of that separation ends up being me getting put in the terrorists’ force with Leo and Clancy while Y/N’s with the FBI, partnered with Seth and her other friend Evan.

“Alright, team, we shall now disperse. Corpse, remember, if you see more than one of them, radio in and lay low, we’ll be with you as soon as possible.“ Leo informs me as he runs off in one direction, Clancy going in the opposite. I confirm I understand and go along my way too, heading for this ancient looking structure that looks like it could belong in an old-timey movie. 

Walking in, I realize the place is way bigger than it appeared on the outside. A quick look up confirms that there are three fucking floors above, not to mention that the ground floor is huge. Luckily, there are many crates and barrels to hide behind if I come across an FBI agent. I sure as hell hope it’s Y/N, I could maybe even try talking her into giving me a second chance at life and pretend she never saw me. Come to think of it though, I’d probably prefer getting killed by her rather than her friends - especially Seth.

Given that we’re in a Discord call, I can hear all the conversation going on. They are all quiet though, I can just periodically hear the mumbles of someone muttering to themselves as they navigate the map cautiously out of fear of running into their opponent unprepared. The silence is put to an end though when Seth speaks up, addressing Y/N.

“Yo, your boyfriend’s with the terrorists, ain’t he? That’s like the universe giving you a sign that y’all shouldn’t be together.“ The fucker laughs at his own joke while I can literally hear Y/N rolling her eyes.

“Have you heard of Romeo and Juliet, Seth?“ She asks sarcastically, almost getting a chuckle out of me but I suppress it to avoid getting caught listening in.

“Yeah, they both die at the end. Fucking boooriiinngg.“ Just then, I spot two silhouettes entering the building. Aiming my gun at them reveals their names - just the people I’m currently involuntarily eavesdropping on. Seth and Y/N don’t notice me though so I quickly duck behind a crate and prepare to radio in when Seth continues verbally torturing Y/N and dancing on my last nerves, “I personally think the friends-to-lovers trope is far more interesting...“

Did this guy just- no, he’s gotta be fucking kidding me

I’m left with my jaw hanging in disbelief at this guy’s audacity. I have no doubt Y/N’s about to put him in his place herself but I just gotta have my own chat with this guy. And by ‘chat’ I mean I mindlessly rush out from behind the crate towards where I saw him and Y/N and open fire on him.  I hear his startled and upset screams with Y/N’s laughter in the background. She doesn’t try to stop me as a teammate of his should and would, instead she just observes the scene unfold, laughing her ass off.

“Yo man what the fuck was that for?!“ I hear Seth’s yell but only faintly since the sound of gunshots is still echoing through my headphones. Yeah, I’m not done shooting this fucker.

“Corpse...Corpse, buddy...“ Y/N manages through fits of laughter she cannot tame, “That’s a few too many bullets, he’s already dead.”

“And that was a few too many comments for him to be let off the hook.” I answer as sharply as I can with the new-formed smile on my face. What can I say, her happiness is contagious.

“Well, you got your first kill in CSGO. Good job, babe! I’m super proud of you!” She cheers for me, clapping her hands excitedly. 

“Nah that was my first overkill.“ I quickly add, with a more threatening tone: “And it won’t be my last.”

“Let’s just hope there aren’t few too many of these overkills either.“ She snickers.

“That doesn’t depend on me, babe.“ I say smugly, suggestively enough for Seth to pick up the dropped hint. Mother fucker’s officially been put in his place and I couldn’t possibly be happier - with the added bonus of getting a ton of laughter out of Y/N who also decides to walk away, leaving me unharmed but promising to shoot to kill next time she sees me.

I’m ok with that. She could kill me anyday.

@maat-the-prescriptive  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @itsminniekat  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat  @idontknowwhatthisisfam  @evi-ka  @classyandfabulous00  @redperson58  @lilysdaydreams @solowheein  @mythicalamphitrite  @axen-gers  @luckygirl144  @nj01  @buddyemily   @the-albino-lioness  @stardream14  @gdhdkfnn  @nomadicgypsyy  @preciousskye  @fluffysuicideunicornsworld  @o-kaelin  @manacharlotte  @awkward-youtube-trash  @lolalee24  @bonky-beerns  @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian  @strawbrinkofdeath  @teenloves  @tams0527  @browneyespinkhair  @starstruckllamapuppy  @daisychains012  @y0ulooked  @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life  @jula-pauline  @melodykitty  @just-that-bi-girl  @crazybutconfidentaf  @lowellshade @alphakees  @bellero  @weallneednamjesus  @starryhanji  @boiled-onionrings  @husherstan  @fockingwhore  @melaningoddessthings  @prettypastelpetals  @haleypearce  @godwhyamiawkward  @y-napotat  @daisychainyoonmin  @little-miss-rebel3  @free-wheelin-bi-sexual  @redmoon261 @darkacademic2  @wiseflamingoqueen  @into-the-end  @namikhai-i  @nastiablr  @thelittleplantlover  @mirktuan  @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny  @vintagegothlover  @easygoingtheatre  @itsrandombooklover  @miiaivi  @emmybaybee  @befourgolden  @jjk-is-my-shit  @eternalteaaars  @spacebadgerx  @princesslunalight  @acequinn14  @samm48  @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa  @fo-love  @marishimomura-blog  @therealglenncoco  @cinnamonbun332  @killtherandomness  @sanshinexxxsan  @fee-btheweeb  @press-lay  @cathleenpotgieter16  @jazzydoesstuff  @moonlxghtbay  @forestrain2000  @hyunjinhugs  @blood-of-fandoms  @lovellylies  @ukiyolixx  @simpforhpcharacters  @chrisdylan17  @parkerjisung  @pedernille  @theodonyous  @wineandionysus  @malfoystilinskii05  @morbid-x  @coryisagee  @jessewa26  @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365  @raeanneinwonderland  @indecisive-empanada  @gluttonypalace  @loriane2503  @btsiguess-kpop  @khaoticbunny  @lucidlycactus  @smiithys  @rottenroyalebooks  @kpopgirlbtssvt  @fangirl-tc27  @fr0z3n-1  @notmesimpingfortechno  @shotarosleftpinky  @kunoi-chan  @idk-whats-wrong-with-me  @yikeroonie  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @poetry-and-tea  @ama-do-writing-stuff  @wishbonewolf  @emeraldxhope  @t0xick1tty  @kusuinko  @speakyourselfloveyourself  @sophia902103  @lo-manburg  @classsykittykat  @dmgama  @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee  @btsiguess-kpop  @akaashi-baby  @gun-jong-simp  @geschichtenfee  @yerapotato-wp  @browneyedgirl365  @thysagclub  @sparklycloudnight  @helloatomicshadow  @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal  @lucy-bunny17  @aaliyahh0  @katluckybear  @boyleanti  @straybids  @franchesca-791  @cosmicstorm19  @averyisbackinthetrashcan  @aomi-nabi  @xlanawriter  @allensimpsforcorpse

[feralthoughtdump]

Arsonist’s Lullaby

Part One: Kiss With A Fist

Part Two: Only Angel

Bucky and his Angel’s relationship grow closer. 

Word Count: 6.8K

CW: violence, Bucky and his nightmares, John Walker being an ass, a little bit of fluff, smut, brief shower sex, Bucky steps on the reader with his boots, spitting, choking, spanking, Bucky using his metal arm, crying, FATWS ep. 3&4 spoilers

The cold air of the cargo container was strange, given that they were in a southeast Asian island. It sent a chill down Angel’s spine. Like something would go very wrong. They survey the empty space, searching for Nagel.

Sharon was certain Nagel was here, but there was no sight of him.

But Angel could hear the slight vibrations of music coming from… somewhere. 

She approaches the back of the container and feels around the rough metal wall. 

“Hey, I think he may be in here.” She beckons them over. 

Pressing a gloved hand onto the metal, she pushed, revealing a small laboratory in front of them. 

“You three go ahead.” She mutters. “I’ll keep an eye out with Sharon.”

Before they can say anything, she strides out of the container.

“You don’t need to worry about them.” Sharon crosses her arms as the door closes. “I know them well. They can hold their own.” 

“Oh, I know.” Angel chuckles. 

“Bucky likes to call you Angel, huh. Seems like you two bonded pretty quickly.”

She gives Sharon a humored look as they stroll around the dock.

“I thought psychopaths couldn’t form bonds.”

“You know I didn’t mean it.”

Their eyes dart all over the place, looking for any oncoming bounty hunters. 

“How’d you get my photo anyways?” 

“Heavy analysis of CCTV footage, a few phone calls, and a lot of digging. The photo was shit quality, but it was enough for me to go off of.”

“Was it enough to catch me?”

“I guess so. Then Zemo blew up the UN so we tabled the case.”

“Interesting. Maybe that UN bombing was a blessing in disguise. Saved me a life sentence in a high-security prison.”

They turned a corner.

“You wouldn’t have gone to jail. MI6 would’ve given you a job instead.” 

“Hmph. I’d rather die than be a servant.”

From the corner of her eye, Angel spots a passing black shadow. 

“Guys,” she presses a finger onto her earpiece. “Someone’s here.” 

A gunshot rings out from the container and the hairs on the back of her neck stand. Sharon gives her a knowing look and they turn the safety off of their guns. 

“Here.” Angel whispers, handing Sharon a knife. “It’ll come in handy.” 

Three bounty hunters transverse on them and they open fire, taking them down one by one. 

“We don’t have much time, hurry up!” Sharon yells into the earpiece. 

A bounty hunter wraps their arms around Angel and she grabs a knife, jamming it into their arm. 

Adrenaline floods her system, dialing her senses up to ten. A swift roundhouse kick sends another hunter tumbling to the ground. 

From behind her, she hears Sam and Bucky yelling and she runs towards them. 

“It’s in every action movie!” She hears Sam yell.

If her life wasn’t on the line, she would’ve laughed. 

“You okay?” She pants.

“No! We’re not!” Sam yells. “Zemo shot Nagel!”

“What? Where is he?”

Her question was answered when a container set fire and exploded. She spots Zemo standing atop another, donning a purple mask. Before she can point him out, he sprints away. 

“Come on, let’s get out of here.” 

Gunshots ring from her right and Bucky wraps a protective arm around her. In her peripheral she sees a bounty hunter riding towards her on a motorcycle, guns blazing. She quickly wriggles out of Bucky’s grasp and sends a knife into the tire, throwing the hunter off of the vehicle and into the fire. 

“Good aim.” He says, mouth agape in surprise.

“You just threw that dude into a fire!” Sam exclaims.

“Yeah, well, he was going to kill us.” 

 They continue to run through the maze of crates, turning corner after corner, dodging bullet after bullet.

As much as he hates to admit it, the sight of Angel in action, when her violence wasn’t directed towards him, sends a rush through his system. 

Zemo speeds towards them in a convertible, signaling them to get in. Sam jumps in the passenger seat while Bucky and Angel sit in the back. 

Her pupils are blown wide and Bucky swears he can feel the electricity radiating off of her. Without stopping to calm down, he grabs her face in his hand and presses a passionate kiss on her lips.

His heart skips a beat when she kisses him back, and in the corner of his eye, he spots Sharon giving either him or Angel, a thumbs up.

… 

Bucky makes it a habit to call her Angel all the time. He likes the way it slips off his tongue. He likes the way her eyes seem to glimmer when he calls her that. It’s as if the more he calls her Angel, she seems to glow more and more. 

He calls her Angel when they board the jet on the way to Latvia.

He calls her Angel when she sits down to change the gauze on her thigh.

He calls her Angel when they get to the Riga safe house. 

The more time he spends with her, the more he notices the little things about her. He notices how her tongue sticks out a little when she does her eye makeup.

He notices how her head would bop along to music in her earbuds

He notices how she’ll curl up on the couch, tucking her knees close to her body, while she sketches.

He notices how she’ll mutter curses in different languages. Mandarin, French, Russian, Spanish just to name a few. 

He notices how she took off her jewelry when she showers with the exception of a gold chain. A gold chain with a dangling pendant. A pendant of a little angel.

He notices how she uses apple cinnamon body wash. It made her smell warm. It made her smell like home. 

She gets along with Sam. Even Zemo. 

She talks about philosophy with Zemo and when she converses with Sam, they talk about music.

She’s a force to be reckoned with. Fiery. Just like Selby had said. A firebird. 

And despite her cool, hardened front, there was a gentleness to her.

The jet had touched down in Latvia late and night and they collectively decided to get a good night’s rest before finding Karli. 

He had woken up from a nightmare. Reliving the memory of killing Yori’s son. 

He didn’t know what compelled him to do it, but he padded over to Angel, reading Anna Karenina. Glasses perched on her nose, hair loose and resting past her shoulders. 

She looks up at him.

“Nightmare?”

Bucky nods, tears pricking are his eyes.

She places the book on the floor and stretches out on the couch.

“Come here.” She whispers arms open wider

She let him lay his head on her chest, nose pressed against her sternum. With gentle hands, she runs her fingers through his hair, slowing his rapid heartbeat. 

The serum had made his hearing sharper and from his position between her breasts, he could hear the soft thumping of her heart. It calmed him. 

“Can you sing to me?” He mumbles.

The hand playing with his hair stops.

“Sing to you?” She asks.

“Mhm.”

“I-“ she pauses “I don’t really-“

“Please.” He begs. 

She’s quiet, just calmly stroking his hair, then she sighs.

“What do you want me to sing?”

“Anything. Just… please, I want you to sing for me.”

She ponders for a moment before she parts her lips, voice shaky and quiet. 

When I was a child, I heard voices

Some would sing and some would scream

You soon find you have few choices

I learned the voices died with me

He closes his eyes and noses at her sternum. 

When I was a child, I'd sit for hours

Staring into open flame

Something in it had a power

Could barely tear my eyes away

The song is unfamiliar. He didn’t listen to music all that much anymore. And even when he listens to music, it was mostly from the 40s.

All you have is your fire

And the place you need to reach 

Don't you ever tame your demons

But always keep 'em on a leash

Her voice, still soft and quiet, is haunting. The way it wraps around the lyrics, warms his heart. He breathes in the smell of her apple cinnamon body wash. 

When I was 16, my senses fooled me

Thought gasoline was on my clothes

I knew that something would always rule me

I knew the scent was mine alone

He loves the way he can feel her chest move up and down. The way her voice sounds so rich with his ear pressed against her chest, the music echoing within her ribs.

All you have is your fire

And the place you need to reach

Don't you ever tame your demons 

But always keep 'em on a leash

He reaches his hand to play with the angel pendant on her necklace. Finger running over the grooves. 

When I was a man I thought it ended

When I knew love's perfect ache

But my peace has always depended

On all the ashes in my wake

As he drifts off to sleep, he can hear the last lines of the song lingering on her lips. The images from war. The torture he endured, the people he’s killed, the amends he has yet to make, all temporarily fade from his mind. 

All you have is your fire

And the place you need to reach

Don't you ever tame your demons

But always keep 'em on a leash

And for the first time since Steve left, Bucky was able to sleep without disturbance.

… 

“You have a lovely voice.” 

Angel was pulled from her sleep when she hears Zemo’s voice. 

She glares at him and places a finger on her lips, shushing him. Bucky was still lying on top of her, still asleep and she didn’t want to wake him. 

“My apologies.” He smiles. 

“Were you watching us last night?” She interrogates quietly. 

“No, but I do have a keen sense of hearing. I heard you singing to James.” 

She turns her head to meet his eyes. 

“He had a nightmare. It was the least I could do for him.” 

“Understandable.” He nods. “My son used to have nightmares and my wife’s voice was the only thing that could put him to sleep.” 

“I’m sorry.” She mumbles sympathetically. “About your family, I mean. I know you lost them a while ago.” 

Her hand combs through Bucky’s hair. 

“I understand how vengeance and anger overtook you. You needed your revenge. But don’t hurt him.”

“Hurt who? James?”

“Yes.” Her voice darkens. “If you lay a finger on him, I won’t hesitate to bury you.”

Zemo sighs. 

“I have no intention of harming him. I see the way you look at him. It’s the same look I used to give my wife. You care for him dearly and given your line of work, I know you’d do anything to avenge the people who harm the ones you love.” He walks towards her and offers her a cookie. Angel takes it with a wary hand. 

“You’ve got anything else you want to say?”

“I do have a question about that song. I knew that something would always rule me.” He quotes. “Was that about yourself, or James?” 

She narrows her eyes. 

“It was just a song.” 

“Yet it implies that something will always have power, control, over the songwriter.” He tilts his head. 

“What are you implying, Baron?”

“It’s not an implication. It’s an observation. You two share a common trait. For James, it’s his past. His time as the Winter Soldier looms over him. As for you, you seem to have this, how do I say it, a compulsion to kill. It will always stick to you.”

“Baron, I suggest you pick your next words very carefully.” 

Bucky stirs and she lifts her hand from his head.

“Mmm. Good morning.” He mumbles, voice rough and heavy. 

“Good morning to you too sleepyhead.” She coos, rubbing his cheek with her thumb. “Did you sleep well?”

“Mhm.” He hums.

She gives Zemo a look that says ‘get out.’

Zemo gives her a smirk and walks away, leaving the two of them alone.

Bucky opens his eyes and Angel can feel her heart melt. He balances himself on his arm to press a kiss to her nose.

“You look cute with bed head.” He chuckles. “So pretty. I could just eat you up.” 

“You look quite pretty when you sleep.” She giggles and rubs her nose against his. 

He places his head back on her chest and they lie there for a while, listening to the sounds of the city. 

Finally, she sighs. 

“Alright, Bucky, I’m gonna go take a shower.”

He whines and wraps his arms around her.

“No, stay.”

“Bucky,” she says sternly, “I have to wash my hair, let go.”

With a huff, he sits up and lets her get off of the couch. As she stands she turns around spotting Bucky, arms crossed and a pout on his face. 

“I never said you couldn’t join.” 

Bucky jumps up and runs to her. He places his hands on her waist and turns her around, pressing a kiss to her lips. She links her fingers with his and he follows behind her towards the bathroom. 

While they wait for the water to heat up, she reaches into her bag to pull out bottles of product. 

He spots the shimmering bottle of apple cinnamon body wash and smiles. 

“Apple cinnamon body wash.” He notes.

“Mhm. It's inexpensive but it smells nice.”

“It does.” 

She places her hand under the stream of water and gets a feel for the temperature. The water is hot, just how she likes it. Her hands pull the t-shirt over her head and then her cotton underwear. 

Bucky waits for her to step into the shower before he strips down and joins her. 

A content smile crosses her face when the hot water hits her body but her peace is broken when she hears Bucky yelp. 

“Why is the water so hot?” 

“I like it hot.” She turns to face him and playfully pokes at his navel. “It’s relaxing.”

“You’re going to boil me alive.” He grumbles. 

“If you don’t like the hot water,” She bluntly states, “then get out.” 

She shampoos her hair, letting the bubbles froth around her fingers, and then she pours a bit into her hand and reaches up to massage it into Bucky’s hair. 

He runs a metal finger down her sternum, collecting a bit of the bubbles that run down her body. When his finger reaches her scar, his touch lingers. 

Seeing the guilt in his eyes, Angel places a finger underneath his chin and has him look into her eyes instead.

“Don’t.” She murmurs. “You’ll only torture yourself reminiscing on the past.” She pulls him under the stream, letting the water wash away the shampoo in their hair. 

She’s got a meticulous shower routine, one that she likes to perform herself, yet she’s okay with Bucky standing next to her. When she combs the conditioner through her hair, she does the same for Bucky, knowing it would soften his hair even more and make it smell like vanilla and pomegranate. 

She places a bit of the apple cinnamon body wash in her hands and rubs it onto his body. Her hands pay extra attention to the scar on his shoulder. 

“It’s got vitamin E in it. Helps with scars.” 

Bucky turns her around, making her face away from him.

She can’t see exactly what he’s doing, but she hums with relaxation when she feels his strong hands rub the body wash into her skin.

“You’ve got some knots in your shoulders.” He notes.

“I’m aware of that.”

“You’re stressed.”

“I am.” 

When the water washes away the body wash, the shower is filled with the scent of apple cinnamon. 

She’s surprised when she feels a kiss on the back of her shoulder but nevertheless, she enjoys it.

Bucky presses another kiss in the center of her shoulders and kisses her along the line of her back. He sinks to his knees and places a kiss onto the dimples of her back. 

“Buck, what are you doing?” She smirks, turning around. 

“I just wanna love on you.” He murmurs against her skin. “Can I?”

She blinks owlishly, then slowly nods her head. 

“Y-yeah” she breathes. 

Bucky places a kiss on her scar and runs his tongue over it, sending a fire through her. 

“Open your legs for me, doll.” 

She shyly parts her legs and Bucky smiles up at her.

He grabs her waist,  hoisting her knees over his shoulders, pressing her back against the wall. 

She lets out gaspy whines when he kisses and nips at her thighs, letting his stubble rub against the sensitive skin.

“Bucky,” she whimpers “we- we’re going to waste water.”

“Don’t worry about that, doll.” He murmurs. “Just let me make you feel good.” 

He licks a stripe up her folds, causing her to gasp. She grabs onto his hair, pulling him closer. 

“So sweet, baby. You taste so sweet.” 

She doesn’t reply. She couldn’t. Not when he was making her feel so good. 

She slaps her other hand onto the wall, trying to hold herself up. Bucky tightens his grip on her and leans in closer, continuously licking into her, making her head spin. 

She tries to say something, tell him she’s close, tell him she’s going to cum quicker than she thought, but the only sounds that leave her mouth are breathy moans. 

When he pulls away, she whines. He gives her a cocky grin. 

“Wanna cum?”

She vigorously nods her head. 

“That’s a shame.” He lets go of her legs, almost dropping her onto the tile, and wraps an arm around her waist to keep her steady. “We’ve got a big day ahead.” His tone is teasing, almost mean. “I’ll let you cum later.” 

She’s left on the edge, and she’s angry. No, not angry. Frustrated. Frustrated and desperate. 

“You’re mean.” She grumbles, shutting off the water. 

“If you give me attitude, I won’t let you cum at all.” He chuckles. 

She pushes him away and wraps a towel around her body. 

“I don’t need you to cum anyways.” She grumbles under her breath. 

As she walks away, he grabs her by the back of her neck and pulls her into his chest.

“If I were you,” He lowers his lips to her ear, “I’d behave. Now,” he releases his grip and gives her ass a smack. “Get dressed, we’ve got a lot to do today.” 

She digs through her duffel to find a simple red jumpsuit. The neckline is low enough to be teasing, but it had enough support and pockets to be practical. 

“Sounds like someone had a good morning.”

She turns around, a big grin stretching across her face when she sees Sam. 

“Sam! Good morning!” She cheers. 

“No need to good morning me when I woke up to the sound of fucking.” he grumbles, annoyance in his voice. 

She chuckles as she buttons the front of her jumpsuit. 

“So, Bucky tells me we have a lot going on today. What’s on the itinerary?”

“Hopefully, we can track down Karli and convince her to stop. At least that’s my plan.” 

“Sounds good.” 

He grabs his jacket from the chair. “I’m headed out to get something to eat. Do you want anything?” 

“I’m okay.” She smiles at him. “Thanks for asking.” 

Sam reaches the door and turns around. 

“One more thing, you’ve got a great voice.”

“Was I that loud or did no one sleep at all last night?”

Sam chuckles. 

“I think after the past few days, it’s hard for anyone to get a good night's sleep.” He looks down, fiddling with his fingers. “What you did… what you did for Bucky in Madripoor, when we were undercover…”

“What did I do?” She asks curiously. 

“When Zemo had him go all Winter Soldier, you fought alongside him, you got to that first guy before Bucky did.”

Angel is quiet. She says nothing, looking down at her hands and picking at her cuticles. 

“He might not say this to your face, but I’ve been around him long enough to know that he’s thankful. And so am I.”

She doesn’t know what to say. What would she even say?

“I can see now why he likes calling you Angel.” 

With that, the door closes. 

She walks over to the kitchen, looking through the cabinets. The shelves were fairly empty, mostly just tins of cookies and candy, and a box of cherry blossom tea. She huffs in frustration when her fingers brush over the tin of candy, barely moving it. 

“Need some help, doll?” 

Bucky grabs the tin and places it on the counter.

Her frustration is reignited at the sight of him in a tight, black t-shirt. She wants him to bend her over, fuck her until she sobs.

But she knows he won’t give her that.

Before she can grab it, Bucky holds it above his head. 

“You’re evil.” She mutters. “Come on, give me it.”

“Nope!” He smirks. 

“Go fu-“

She yelps when Bucky loops his thumb through the belt loop of her jumpsuit and pulls her close to him. 

“Remember what I told you? Watch your language.” 

“Give me the candy or you’re not getting head for a week.”

Bucky’s eyes widen and he hands her the box. 

“Thank you.” 

She presses a kiss to his nose and walks away with the box. 

She knows what Bucky’s doing. He’s riling her up, teasing her. 

But two can play that game. 

She sits up on the counter and opens the tin. 

Turkish Delight. Candy she used to eat as a child. 

He’s staring at her. She can feel it. Her fingers pluck a candy from the box and hold it up. 

“Want one?”

Bucky walks over to her and wedges himself between her thighs. 

“Sure.” 

She unwraps the candy and places a finger on his chin, beckoning him to open his mouth.

Her fingers place the treat on his tongue.

“Sweet, isn’t it?”

He kisses her and she can taste the sugar on his lips. 

“Almost as sweet as you.”

She grabs another and hops off of the counter, humored by Bucky’s frustrated look. 

“Sam probably wants everyone ready by the time he gets back. So, I don’t know.” She eyes him up and down, ready to drool at the sight of his arms. “Get dressed.”

“Oh doll, I’m already dressed.” He chuckles. 

“Good. Then help me out.” Her fingers deftly unbutton the top of her jumpsuit, exposing her black sports bra. She reaches for her harness and shoves it in Bucky’s hands. “Buckle me in.”

… 

Sex was the last thing on her mind when she’s face to face with the new Captain America. 

“Karli Morganthau is too dangerous for you to be pulling this shit.” He yells. 

Angel rolls her eyes at the sight of John Walker. 

“How’d you find us now?” Bucky replies, voice full of annoyance.

“You think two Avengers can walk around Latvia without drawing attention?” 

Angel’s seen his face in the news. Lemar, the better of America’s new dynamic duo. 

“No more keeping us in the dark, and you can tell us why you broke him” John points to Zemo “out of prison.”

“He did that himself, technically.” Bucky answers. 

“That is an unbelievable explanation! And who the hell are you?” He points to Angel. 

“I’m a friend.” She grumbles, eyes narrowed. 

“You have no business being here. And whatever you’re wearing, all you’re going to do is draw attention.”

“And your little Mr. America getup isn’t?”

“Why don’t you go back to working in European intelligence or whatever it is you do.”

“You better watch your mouth, Mr. Walker.” She snarls. “Is that really how you speak to a lady?” 

“I know where Karli is.” Zemo interrupts their feud.

“Well, where?” 

“All we know is,” Sam answers, “It’s a memorial. We’ll intercept her there.” 

“That means civilians, high risk of casualties.” Lemar states.

“Alright good.” John schemes. “We’ll move in fast, take her by surprise.” 

“Not a good idea, John.” Angel retorts. He halts in his steps and turns to her.

“You have no clue what you’re getting yourself into. This is an American situation.” 

She leans in until she’s staring into his eyes. Rage broils inside of her. 

“Let me tell you something John, I don’t care about your medals of honor. I don’t care that you’re wearing that red and blue suit. So I’ll tell you this once, and only once. If you dare speak to me like this again, I won’t hesitate to-“ 

Bucky pulls her back, giving her a stern look. 

“Hey,” he rubs her shoulder, trying to settle her anger. “He’s not worth it.”

“Oh, so she’s your little girlfriend huh?” 

Angel presses the tip of her knife against his chin and backs him into a wall.

“You stay out of Bucky’s business.” She seethes. 

“Hey, hey, hey!”

This time, both Sam and Bucky had to pull her away, but she keeps her murderous glare trained on him.

“Jesus Christ, Barnes. Keep your little psycho under control.” John spits. 

“Hey, don’t speak to her like that,” Sam demands. “Just because you don’t know her doesn’t give you an excuse to be rude.” 

“Either you show her some respect,” Bucky says “or all of the help we have to offer is off of the table.” 

Sam nods in agreement and eventually so does Zemo, who adds a small shrug. 

“I wasn't actually going to kill him.” She mutters under her breath.

“We know.” Sam pulls her into a side hug. He directs his words back to John. “I want to talk to her alone.”

“I’m not losing her again.” 

“Look, the person closest to her died. She’s vulnerable. If there’s any time to reason with her, it’s now.” 

“What?” John halts in his steps. “No, wait stop. We are way past reasoning with her.” 

“Sam,” Lemar states. “If you walk in there cold, you could die.”

“But if you walk in guns blazing, you could have the blood of hundreds of civilians on your hands.” Angel folds her arms. “Besides, if things go wrong, I’m trained in mixed martial arts.”

“You think a black belt will save you from  a super-soldier?” 

Angel snorts. 

“It has before.”

Bucky looks down and stifles a laugh. 

“I used to counsel soldiers dealing with trauma, okay?” Sam argues with John. “This is in my wheelhouse.”

They’re all silent, staring daggers at each other. 

“John,” Lemar breaks the silence “If he can talk her down, it might be worth a try.” He gives Angel a kind smile. “And I think we give this girl a chance to show us what she’s got.”

“Thank you.” She smiles back. 

“I’m sure this can all come to an agreeable conclusion.” Zemo points forward. “My associate is just up ahead.” 

They watch as Zemo approaches a young girl, handing her some money. She beckons them to follow her down a cobblestone path, into a building, and through the boiler room. 

“You’ve got ten minutes,” John states while handcuffing Zemo to a pipe. “Then we’re doing things my way.”

While they wait, Angel spends her time playing with her butterfly knife, spinning the handle around her fingers.

“How do you not cut yourself doing that?” Lemar asks. 

She spins the knife closed. 

“I have before, it’s just about practice and being careful. Here, I’ll show you.” 

Bucky observes Angel showing off her knife tricks to Lemar. 

Despite the stressful situation, he still felt a pang of possessiveness. She was his Angel. He gave her that name and when she said she’d accepted it. In a way, she was his and he was hers. 

“What’s your name? I don’t think you’ve ever told me.” 

He hears Lemar ask.

Angel giggles.

“It’s Artemis. Like the goddess.”

Artemis. It’s fitting, Bucky thinks. The goddess of the hunt.

“That’s really cool. Let me guess, your parents were huge mythology fans?”

“You can say that.” She chuckles.

His eyes narrow when she smiles at Lemar. 

Their conversation continues and Bucky’s jealousy burns brighter when she places her fingers on the fabric of Lemar’s suit, giving him a comment on how she’s got an eye for fashion and how nice the fabric was. From his position by the door, he sees her turn to him and give him a wink. 

Bucky scowls. That little minx.

John crosses his arms and stares daggers into her.

“What exactly do you do, anyway?” He scoffs. “Are you some kind of spy?”

Angel raises a brow. 

“I’m not a spy. I’m just a problem solver.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” John shakes his head and secures the shield on his arm. “Nevermind. I’m going in.” 

“Oh, come on John, it’s only been eight minutes.” 

“No. Don’t do that. Don’t patronize me.” 

“I’m not-” Angel sighs and turns away, focusing her attention on pulling her hair back.

Bucky stops him before John can get through the doorway. 

“It must be so easy for you.” John’s voice is full of malice. “All that serum running through your veins. Barnes, your partner needs backup. Do you really want his blood on your hands?” 

Bucky can see Angel slowly shake her head, telling him not to give in to John’s words. But he can’t. He’s already done so much harm. He’s responsible for the deaths of so many people, he can’t let Sam become another. 

So, he lets John walk past him, Lemar following along. 

Angel runs up to him. 

“Bucky, why’d you do that?” 

“I can’t… I can’t risk it. I can’t risk losing him.” 

She sighs and places a gentle hand on his cheek. 

“I understand.” Her lips land a gentle kiss on his nose. “But don’t let his words get to you. Now,” She grins and lightly smacks his ass. “Go make sure he doesn’t kill anyone.” 

With one final kiss, Bucky runs off. 

She turns around to see the handcuffs dangling from the pole. Her blood runs cold. Zemo escaped and who knows what he’ll do.

She runs through the halls, boots quietly slapping on the concrete floors. From her left, she hears a series of loud gunshots and crunching glass. 

Her feet lightly tread next to the walls, ears picking up every little sound. 

She jumps, heartbeat pounding when the thump of a body falling to the ground meets her ears. 

Did Zemo kill someone? Was it Karli? Another Flag-Smasher? 

She runs through the door closest to her. From behind a table, she spots John staring at a small vial. A small vial of the serum. Before she can say anything, he runs away. 

As she quietly walks into the room, she spots Zemo, lying on the ground, unconscious. No one else was here. 

She crouches down next to him and gently shakes his shoulder. 

“Baron? Zemo? Come on, wake up.” 

He doesn’t move. 

She picks up his wrist, pressing her pointer and middle fingers on the vein. A sigh of relief passes her lips at the feeling of a pulse. 

Her hands shake his shoulder again, this time, with more vigor. 

“Zemo!” She shouts.

His eyes snap open and he groans in pain. 

“You passed out Baron.”

“I’m aware.” He grumbles. “John Walker threw the shield at me.” 

“Of course he did.”

She offers him a hand and helps him stand up. 

“Can you walk?” She asks. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll be okay.”

The two make their way through the city until they reach Zemo’s apartment. Sam was already there, typing away on his computer. 

Angel wets a towel in the kitchen and hands it to Zemo.

“Go, lie down. Put this over your eyes.” 

She walks down the hall towards Bucky’s room. With a tired sigh, she removes her shoes, jumpsuit, and harness.

Her eyes close as she lies on the bed in her underwear. The sports bra felt much too tight but she didn’t care. She was tired. Her morning sexual frustration had caught up to her but she didn’t feel like doing anything about it.

Even though it was only seven in the evening, she just wanted to sleep.

Right when she’s drifting off to sleep, the slam of the bedroom door jolts her awake. 

Bucky is standing in front of her, arms crossed, eyes filled with rage.

“Get off the bed.” He snarls. 

She laughs and rolls over onto her stomach. 

“No. If sex is what you want, let’s do it on the bed.”

She hears a sigh behind her and her eyes widen when she feels Bucky’s hands wrap around her ankles. 

“Buck, what are you-”

Her words come to a halt when he pulls her off of the bed and onto her knees. 

“You wanted me to fuck you?” He seethes. “Fuck you rough until you can’t speak?”

“That was the plan.” She smirks. 

He twists a hand in her hair and pulls her head back. Her breath is shallow as she looks up, meeting Bucky’s angry eyes. 

He’s mad. At the entire Karli situation, and maybe with her. But his anger towards her, she assumes, is fiery, lustful anger. Anger that she can have a lot of fun with. 

“If you had let me cum earlier,” She snaps, “ maybe I wouldn’t have been such a brat.”

She rubs her thighs together, trying to alleviate the arousal burning through her. A whine leaves her lips when he kicks her legs apart. 

He tightens his grip on her hair.

“You really need to learn some respect.”

Bucky places the toe of his boot on her back and pushes her face down onto the floor. She doesn’t resist, giving in to his dominance. 

“Aww, look at you,” he mocks, “You were so bold earlier, my Angel. Where did that fire go?”

Her heart swells. He’s no longer calling her Angel. He’s called her his Angel. She was his. 

Footsteps echo around her and she takes a shaky breath when his black boots come into view. 

“Look at me, doll. I wanna see those pretty eyes.”

His voice is commanding, authoritative. It drew her in, made her head spin.

She looks up at him with wide eyes as he bends down on a knee.

“Were you trying to rile me up? Trying to make me angry?” 

She nods.

Bucky roughly grabs her chin, cold metal digging into her cheeks.

“Use your words.”

“Y-yes Sergeant.” She squeaks.

He stares down at her, anger and lust in his eyes. 

“Open your mouth.” 

Her lips part and Bucky spits, letting his saliva pool on her tongue. 

His fingers press on her chin, closing her mouth. She swallows, heat burning in her tummy. 

“So now, you want to be a good girl, huh?” 

He picks her up by her neck and shoves her face into the soft mattress. His fingers loop around the elastic waistband of her panties and pull, the fabric digging into her cunt. 

“Yes, I’m your good girl.” She whines. “I’ll be good. Promise.” 

He leans in close, his warm breath brushing over her ear. 

“I don’t believe you.” 

He rears his metal hand against her ass, leaving a red handprint of her skin. 

A choked breath leaves her lips. She relishes in the pain and gives him a cocky smile.

“Is that all you got Sarge?” 

He lands another hard smack, this time on her thigh. A whimper escapes her lips.

“Oh, you’re really asking for it, aren’t you?” 

He shifts his hand on her neck, wrapping it around the front of her neck. She squeezes at the sides, slowing the circulation of blood to her head. 

She opens her mouth to speak, but the hand on her throat stops the words from leaving her lips. 

The clinking of his belt buckle sends a wave of lust through her. 

She was finally getting what she wanted.

His hand on her neck is released and she takes in a sharp breath.  

He pulls her panties down her legs and throws them to the side. 

She gasps at the feeling of cold metal rubbing between her folds. Her fingers dig into the sheets, grabbing at the fabric. 

“You’re practically dripping.” He muses, “Who knew you were such a masochist?” 

“Only for you.” She keens. 

“Only for me? Not for anyone else?”

“Yes! Yes! Only you!”

Bucky hums and lands another smack on her ass. She yelps and tears threaten to spill from her eyes. 

He shoves two fingers inside of her and she gasps at the cool feeling of the metal. 

She squirms around as he twists his fingers, pressing against that spot inside of her.

Hunger swarms her brain. She wanted, no, needed more. 

What he’s doing is sadistic, she thinks. Constantly bringing her to the edge, but never letting her tip over. 

He lets his thumb press against her clit and the tears she’s been trying to hold back spill over. She lets out a quiet sob into the sheets but Bucky doesn’t stop his movements. 

“I need more.” She quietly whimpers. 

“You think you have the right to beg?” He asks nonchalantly. “After that little show?” 

“I’m sorry.” She cries. 

Her eyes squeeze shut and she turns her head, letting her cheek rest on the bedsheets. When she glances up, she can see Bucky’s amused smirk. 

She feels the tip of his cock pressing against her entrance and she holds her breath. 

“Oh doll,” he coos, thumbing away her tears, “You’re so pretty when you cry.” 

A sudden thrust of his hips buries his cock inside of her. Bucky clamps his hand over her lips, muffling her desperate cries. 

“Shh, shh,” He whispers gently. “It’s okay, love. Be a good girl and take it.” 

He starts moving, his hips slowly thrusting into her. The fire inside of her burns, hotter and hotter. Her head is reeling as she feels herself come closer to her impending orgasm. Despite how rough he is with her, she feels safe. Safe with him. She feels safe enough to fall into submission, open and pliant for him. 

Her sobs against his hand become louder, more intense and he bends down to nip at her neck.

“Are you gonna cum, angel? Cum all over my cock?” 

She nods, eyes squeezed shut. 

“Do you think you deserve it?” He asks.

“No,” she mumbles against his hand. “But I want to.”

He brushes his fingers down the length of her back and she shivers. 

“You wanna cum, doll? Ask nicely.” 

He releases his hand and grabs her hip, pulling her deeper onto his cock. 

“Please.” She gasps. “Please, let me cum!” 

“You have to do better than that.”

“Please, I’ll be so good for you! I’ll never flirt with anyone again! Just please! Please, I wanna cum.” 

He picks up his pace, and she finds it harder to stave off her orgasm. 

“So polite.” He hums, “But not yet.”

She lets out a pathetic sob.

“Please.” She whimpers. 

“Be patient. You’ll get to cum soon.” 

Her breaths are shallow as she tries to keep herself from cumming. She bites down on her lower lip but the pain does little to help.

Relief washes over her when Bucky speaks again.

“You’ve been such a good girl for me. Come on angel, cum for me.” 

Her teeth bite down on the sheets as she’s hurtles over the edge, her orgasm sending shockwaves through her body. 

As her chest heaves and her mind becomes foggy, she can barely feel Bucky pull out and releases him cum on her back. 

She lies there, upper half sprawled over the mattress, a dopey smile on her face. A hum of pleasure slips past her lips when Bucky wipes his cum away with a warm washcloth. 

“You okay, doll?” He asks. 

She nods her head. 

The bed shifts as he sits on the bed and pulls her towards him. 

“Come on,” He lies down and pulls her close to him. He noses at the back of her shoulder. “Get some rest.” 

The sun was about to set, bathing their bodies in a golden glow. He runs his metal fingers over her bicep, cooling down her heated skin. 

She’s tired, so tired. Yet she’s happy. The first time in a long time that she’s actually felt happy. 

“Bucky?” She asks in a fucked out daze.

“Yes my angel?” 

A moment of silence passes. 

“You’re the only one who’s made me feel human.”

...

Once again, tysm @sojournmichael for reading over my little snippets of writing!

[faunusrights]

what is going on with all the bias on robyn hill’s wiki page, anyway? - an aside

As someone who uses the RWBY wiki with some degree of frequency - often because I’m looking for art references, or Semblance and weapon names - I’m used to... some amount of bias in the articles for different characters? Like, let’s be real, it’s not a perfect wiki! Community-maintained stuff isn’t easy to all keep on the same track! But, generally, it gives the facts well enough and doesn’t do too bad a job keeping all the balls in the air when it comes to new information from all four corners of this franchise.

Well, until you open the article for Robyn Hill, and realise it’s an absolute disaster. Like, really; the impartial voice just plain doesn’t exist for her, and almost all of her wiki is written in such a way that she reads as being an absolutely insufferable, hostile, hard-to-like character. Even if you aren’t a fan of Robyn personally, you have to admit that if you hadn’t seen the show yourself, you might very well come away from her article presuming she’s a major antagonist of Volumes 7 and 8.

Like, for instance, let’s take a look at the first paragraph of her Personality section:

Robyn has a direct and confident personality, having no trouble being confrontational with Atlas personnel, including the Ace Operatives. Robyn also seems to suffer from overconfidence and arrogance, shown in her encounters with Ruby and celebrating her election victory before it was verified. She is aggressive and hostile in nature, quickly jumping to conflict without thinking through consequences. However, she is also shown to be reasonable when the situation calls for it.

And, for good measure, here’s another paragraph from the same section:

In "With Friends Like These" Robyn displayed a rather impulsive side of her personality, when upon hearing that James Ironwood's plan to abandon Mantle and arrest those against him, she started a fight between herself, Clover Ebi, and Qrow Branwen onboard a Manta with Tyrian Callows in custody. Despite the fact, there was no order or her arrest. Her brashness led to Tyrian breaking free and crashing the Manta as well as her becoming unconscious.

(Taken from Robyn’s RWBY Wiki page. Bolding is mine.)

In every instance here, all of the “negative” aspects of her personality take centre stage; she’s confrontational. She suffers from arrogance. She is aggressive and hostile. She started the fight. Her brashness led to the crash. All of this is only compounded when her positive traits trail behind as an afterthought; she’s direct and confrontational, overconfident and arrogant, aggressive and hostile, impulsive and jumps to conclusions... but hey! As least she’s reasonable when the situation calls for it. 

The way that this information is presented to the reader is quite literally on par with how the wiki presents the personalities of the actual literal villains who appear throughout the show. Let’s take, for instance, the Personality section of Cinder Fall:

Cinder is ruthless and sadistic, as demonstrated when she delivers a killing blow to a clearly defeated Pyrrha Nikos in "End of the Beginning" and when she throws a spear at a defenseless Weiss Schnee in "The More the Merrier." She is relentlessly driven to gain power and determined to cross any line to obtain it. Cinder demonstrates a cunning that shows in her successful manipulation of events and people throughout the first three volumes. Cinder is also arrogant and egomaniacal, and as such, relishes in dominance and gloating, displaying shameless pleasure in the misery she has caused others.

Or, the Personality section of Raven Branwen:

Raven is cynical, patronizing, selfish and stubborn. She believed her act of "kindness" of saving Yang's life from Neopolitan was sufficient despite having left Yang at a very young age and refused to protect her daughter when in need after that.

Raven is also very prideful and hypocritical, refusing to acknowledge her faults and always trying to justify her actions both to others and to herself, often putting the blame on others for them even if she feels real guilt about them.

It makes sense that for an antagonist, the primary faults and flaws of their personalities will come first, as to better represent them as the villains to clarify to the reader who they are and why they act as they do in their storylines. However, the fact that Robyn arguably has an even more caustic write-up then Raven, despite not being an antagonist, goes to show the lengths this writer has gone to present her in a significantly more negative light than she ever appears in the show.

If this doesn’t seem convincing, let’s look at a more direct comparison; what does the wiki say about Ironwood? He’s present in the same seasons, and has now become more of an antagonist in the latter episodes; is the wiki quite as blunt about his flaws?

Ironwood is courteous to his allies, as shown by his first onscreen interaction with Ozpin and Glynda Goodwitch. He is also far-thinking and tactical, wondering about the future, as seen when he speaks to Ozpin about Qrow Branwen's message. He also has a jovial, friendly, humorous and proud public persona, which he uses as a spokesman for the weapon manufacturers of Atlas.

However, as courteous Ironwood may appear, he can also be incredibly blunt, often preferring the direct approach. When he feels necessary, Ironwood is not afraid to bring the full might of his military command to bear, which sparked disagreements with both Glynda and Ozpin. Nevertheless, Ironwood is extremely loyal to his comrades, and however questionable his methods may be, he seems to have genuinely good intentions behind them.

Uh, no.

Instead, when his flaws are mentioned (for example, being blunt), it’s written in a significantly less... abrasive manner. It’s referred to as the direct approach, versus Robyn who is described as confrontational. Even then, his flaws are folded in to his (alleged) positive traits; he is not afraid, extremely loyal, and has genuinely good intentions, despite the fact that the show has now proven that Ironwood’s flaws greatly outweigh these. It reveals how thoroughly all of Robyn’s actions are presented as the work of an arrogant troublemaker, whilst Ironwood’s actions are presented as the efforts of a man working towards some greater good. 

Also, I’ll add that in both examples, I used the first two paragraphs of their Personality sections. These are both the first two things you read about these characters, yet look at how differently they’re summarised.

What is interesting, however, is that despite this bias being extremely self-evident, the comments on her page generally chime agreement, referring to her as “overconfident, arrogant, impulsive and hotheaded to the point of being unlikable”, and claiming that she’s “literally the worse character in the show next to cinder, blake and yang”[1]. Someone mentions that Robyn has earned quite the hatedom... but why?

Broadly, my experiences of Robyn Hill’s writing in the fandom has been through a queer lens, and the vast majority of writers who’ve covered her and the Happy Huntresses have been women, or queer, or trans, or all the above... basically, the people who are usually responsible for a vast majority of fanfiction, let’s be real. These writers love Robyn, and have explored and extrapolated on her character to marvellous degree. Yet, at no singular point have any of these flaws ever been written quite as strongly as the wiki implies they are, nor have I seen much evidence of them myself in the show. For instance, let’s take one of the more serious points in her Personality section; she started a fight between herself, Clover Ebi, and Qrow Branwen [...] her brashness led to Tyrian breaking free and crashing the Manta as well as her becoming unconscious.

When we watch this scene again, Robyn did initiate the fight... because she was rightfully aware that Clover would obey his orders, even if they were wrong. Despite everything that happened prior in the entirety of Volume 7, when given orders to bring Qrow in alongside RWBY, it was clear that Clover fully intended to follow it through, which Robyn knows from prior experience with the AceOps:

[image ID: two images of Clover, Robyn and Qrow in the dark-grey interior of the Manta ship. Robyn has her weapon aimed at Clover as he stands in front of Qrow. Clover is saying “Only Qrow is under arrest [...] please don’t make me arrest you too.”]

Her knowledge of the AceOps means that she reacted accordingly; trying to stop him from taking Qrow in and obeying Ironwood’s plan the only way she knows the AceOps respond to. Her reaction isn’t unwarranted. However, my point isn’t to argue that Robyn was right or wrong, but rather that regardless of who started the fight, the way the wiki explains this specific incident is that it’s solely Robyn’s fault that Tyrian escaped and crashed the Manta, but we know this isn’t the case. Robyn and Qrow both fought Clover, and it was Clover’s good luck (or Qrow’s bad luck, depending on how you view it) that allowed for Kingfisher to break Tyrian’s bonds. Her brashness is blamed for the outcome, but in reality, this outcome could have been avoided together if Clover had not chosen to follow his orders and bring in an innocent man. Also, she didn’t crash the Manta! That was all Tyrian! The intentional tying together of these two events as her fault, however, are a neat package of blame.

In these instances on the wiki, Robyn’s personality appears amplified, focusing specifically on her flaws and exaggerating them to the extremes that, as noted earlier, matches the language used to define the very villains of the series. Yet, the people who enjoy her and the Happy Huntresses often perceive those same flaws to a significantly lesser extent, or even see those flaws as actually being boons of her character; for instance, reading her alleged arrogance as passion. So, why such division?

Before, I mentioned her “negative” traits, and I put this into quote marks because traits don’t always align nicely into good and bad. All aspects of a person can vary on how positive they are based on context - even the show proves this, with protectiveness becoming paranoia (Ironwood) or loyalty becoming subservience (Winter). Even a character that is broadly composed of more unfavourable traits can have this contextual shift; Cinder’s stubbornness to her goals makes her a fast learner and a tenacious opponent.

Yet, why did the writer (or writers) choose to highlight almost every aspect of Robyn’s character as a bad thing? Why did they frame her decisions as such? I have a suspicion it’s to do with her character at large; she’s a bold socialist politician who believes in equality and fairness for all, who refuses to stand for incompetence and obedience towards evil causes. She’s outspoken in her views, and reacts strongly to those who threaten to overturn her work. Also, she’s a woman, in charge of a group of other women, at least one of whom is canonically trans. To those who agree with her in real life, Robyn appears as a great character! We admire her work ethic and we support her ends. To those who may not... well, it’s not hard to see how they might perceive her as more of a cocky, authority-defying upstart. Of course, the core text of RWBY doesn’t quite believe the latter; RWBY has always placed Robyn as the direct counter to authoritarianism, whether it be Jacques, Clover, or Ironwood, and even the article admits that she is a potent voice for the people of Mantle. Still, it’s clear that there’s plenty of people in a vocal minority who are deeply dissatisfied by Robyn, and aren’t afraid to make their stance on the matter exceedingly clear.

So, what does this all mean? Well, here’s what we can say for sure; Robyn’s article is, and has always been, stringently biased against her character, and often misconstrues her motives and decisions. This is maybe the more obvious part, but how should her article be worded to make this less so? Likely, I’d rephrase a lot of it to be less damaging to her character; she isn’t hostile, she holds people accountable. She isn’t quick to jump to conflict, she is familiar with how Atlas responds to anti-authority with violence. She isn’t arrogant, she believes in the power of the people as being the right thing to fight for. Even this makes it clearer that her character is about resisting the oppression inherent in Atlas, and is a much clearer outline of her personality as a whole. People may disagree with this phrasing and summary also, but given her character is based on Robin Hood, it’s also not far from the mark in terms of what she should represent.

TL;DR: Robyn’s wiki page is written with a deep bias against her character and what she represents, acts upon, and chooses to do in the show; I have no doubt that in canon, this sort of language would probably be used by Jacques himself as a smear campaign, haha. Whilst I can’t speak for the author and their motives, I have a distinct feeling that this article was written, or edited, by someone who is either:

not a fan of Robyn

not a fan of a new female character

not a fan of a new female character in a position of power

not a fan of a character with socialist/communist/antifa ideals

all of the above and then some???

Even though I’m not going to edit her wiki page (I’m very shy and I’ve never done it before), I think it’s worth analysing this if only as a reminder of the inherent biases of an author even when people are trying to present a character’s information impartially. This isn’t the first wiki I’ve seen misconstrue - or even make incorrect assumptions on - facts about a character, and it won’t be the last. In the meantime, though, I leave you with this fact:

Robyn Hill slaps huge nuts and I love her.

[1] I’m not naming the users who posted these things here, because it’s unnecessary. You can find them for yourself at the bottom of Robyn’s wiki, but there’s no need to respond; some people just don’t like Robyn, and that’s fine - I’m just explaining how bias leaks into wikis like water into a sponge. It happens!

[wildmagicplant]

Lan Jingyi doesn't know what he's going to do. He knows he's not a sect heir or a first disciple or the best student in the Cloud Recesses, but he is a perfectly capable cultivator. He has led a night hunt, he has accompanied Wei-qianbei on essential journeys for Hanguang-jun, and he can beat Jin Ling six times out of ten when they spar. So, the sensation he feels now—complete helplessness—has been unfamiliar to him for a long time.

It's the middle of the night. For all that Lan Jingyi has a tendency to stretch or ignore certain of the Lan rules, he generally keeps the proper hours by habit. Everything is unfamiliar under the clouded dark sky, the paths that Lan Jingyi can walk with his eyes closed suddenly new and strange. He had woken, and he hadn't known why for a moment. But then he heard something outside, the noise of someone walking none too carefully down the paths, and Lan Jingyi was curious by nature and untrusting by recent experience, and so he threw on an outer robe and slipped out of his rooms.

There had been a person in dark robes striding between the buildings, and for a second, Lan Jingyi thought it was Wei-qianbei, but that thought passed quickly. This person was stiffer in bearing and seemed unfamiliar with the Cloud Recesses. They were also carrying a sword, unsheathed and at the ready. Lan Jingyi had not thought to grab his own sword when he followed the noise. He'd been expecting a young disciple sneaking around, or maybe someone returning from a night hunt, or even someone taking a walk to find peace from troubling dreams. How did this person get through the wards?

Lan Jingyi had followed the intruder silently, hoping that he could figure out where they were headed, or maybe even come up with a plan to stop them. They had made it nearly all the way across the Cloud Recesses, and Lan Jingyi still hadn't thought of anything, the fear of what they might do and the determination not to let them get away keeping him moving regardless. Suddenly, the figure had paused, looking around. Before Lan Jingyi could panic, they'd turned decisively down the small path between two of the buildings, and Lan Jingyi had waited a moment before darting after them.

The intruder had been waiting for him, and now here he is, a sword pointed at his throat as an unfamiliar woman stares coldly at him.

"What do you want?" Lan Jingyi asks. Maybe he can keep her talking long enough that someone will notice them. Then again, who would be awake to hear?

The expression on the woman's face doesn't change. "I want a lot of things, little Lan," she says. "Right now, I want to know how you found me, and then maybe, if you're cooperative, you can lead me where I want to go."

His first instinct is to laugh at her, but he manages to restrain himself. Lan Jingyi has no interest in dying, and he's fairly certain that is exactly what laughing right now would lead to. He can't completely help himself, though, and he says, "If you'd come in the daytime, there would be plenty of people who could show you to where you wished."

"Well, I'm here now," she says brusquely. "How did you find me?"

Should he try to bluff? Give the impression that others might also find her? It depends on how much she knows of the Lan sect, probably. She seems to be looking for something, and she knew a way in, which suggests at least knowledge of the basic workings of the Cloud Recesses. She also clearly doesn't know where she's going, so it's doubtful she's ever been here before. 

"I heard you," Lan Jingyi says, and waits to see how she takes it.

The woman only raises an eyebrow. "I thought all you Lans were supposed to be asleep now," she says.

She hasn't tried to kill him yet, so Lan Jingyi lets himself relax ever so slightly. "I'm a light sleeper," he says, with a little of his usual cheer.

It doesn't seem to deter her. "Will anyone else come sneaking after me?"

Lan Jingyi shrugs. He has honestly no idea. The woman's eyes narrow.

"Well, in that case, why don't you lead me to my destination, and then I can be gone before any other light sleepers hear me."

"Where are you trying to go?" he asks.

The woman smiles for the first time, and a chill runs down Lan Jingyi's spine. It reminds him of Yi City. "The library, little Lan."

He had wondered if that was her goal. There isn't much that someone would have heard of to steal from the Cloud Recesses that wasn't in the library. At least she isn't here to kill someone, which Lan Jingyi had also wondered about. He doesn't want to know what she's looking for, or what she'll do once she reaches the library. 

"I'm sure I could give you directions and then be on my way," he says, mind racing. How can he get backup? Sizhui is away, traveling, and the Jingshi is too far away to reach in time. They are in a section of the Cloud Recesses mostly populated by buildings used during the day, so reaching anywhere with other people will be difficult. If he had his sword he'd fly, but if he had his sword, he could fight her, too.

Shaking her head, she says, "And let you run off for help? No, you'll lead me yourself," and lunges. She's quick, and Lan Jingyi doesn't have a chance to do anything besides yelp before the woman is behind him, her sword held across his throat. "Go on," she says in his ear. "Take me to the library. And if you make any more noise, I'll cut out your tongue."

Fuck. Lan Jingyi starts walking toward the library, trying desperately to find a way out of this. Maybe once they're at the library, he can get away from her? But what if she's not trying to steal from them, what if she wants to destroy the library? He can't take that chance, can he?

Before Lan Jingyi can start to formulate a plan, someone speaks from behind them.

"Let him go."

The woman spins, keeping her sword at Lan Jingyi's throat and her other hand at his back, and she isn't careful about it. The sword cuts into the side of his neck. It doesn't hurt much, he's had worse, but he can feel blood start to well up.

At first, Lan Jingyi thinks it's Hanguang-jun who'd spoken, having heard the low, forceful voice. He sees a tall figure in white, the bright gleam of a sword, an imposing shape in the night. How could he have gotten here so quickly, Lan Jingyi thinks, the Jingshi isn't anywhere near here. And then his eyes pick out a few more details, and he thinks he can be forgiven for his mistake. Lan Jingyi hasn't seen Zewu-jun in nearly a year, and he's never seen him this stone-faced.

"No," the woman growls, gripping the back of Lan Jingyi's robes tighter. "Stay back, or I'll kill him."

Zewu-jun's face doesn't even twitch. "Why have you invaded the Cloud Recesses and threatened one of our own?"

The woman laughs, and Lan Jingyi tries hard not to flinch away. It's a loud, mirthless sound, right in his ear. She says, "Who are you to demand answers from me?" If he weren't being held as a hostage, Lan Jingyi would gape at her. Surely she can tell that Zewu-jun is an inner sect member even if she doesn't know precisely who he is.

"Irrelevant," Zewu-jun says, and even now that Lan Jingyi has realized who it is, he still has a moment of confusion. Zewu-jun has never sounded so much like his brother. "Tell me why you're here, quickly. I don't wish to disturb anyone else."

"She was going to the library," Lan Jingyi burst out. The woman pushes her sword against his neck. He thinks he can feel more blood.

Zewu-jun takes a step closer. "Thank you, Lan Jingyi," he says. "That will not be allowed to happen. I have protected the texts of the Lan sect before. No one will ever touch them without permission again."

"Who's going to stop me?" the woman challenges.

Lan Jingyi thinks he sees a slight twist to Zewu-jun's mouth before he moves, swiftly throwing a talisman at them. He's moving too quickly for Lan Jingyi to see clearly, but he feels the woman freeze and himself gently pushed away. By the time the woman has unfrozen, Lan Jingyi is on the ground out of her reach, and Zewu-jun is in front of her, sword at the ready.

The woman grunts, swinging her sword at Zewu-jun. He brings Shuoyue up effortlessly, blocking her strike and forcing her sword to the side. She's not bad, Lan Jingyi realizes. The woman doesn't use any style he's seen before, which fits with the rogue cultivator theory he's been building, but she moves quickly and her blade is steady. She must be a cultivator because the sword she uses clearly has spiritual energy behind it, but she sticks close to the ground, barely using her energy for anything besides the control of the sword.

They trade blows for a few moments, the woman fierce and aggressive, Zewu-jun striking efficiently at every opening she leaves. It's clear to Lan Jingyi that she will tire long before he does. He's never seen Zewu-jun truly fight before, and it's incredible. There are similarities to how Hanguang-jun fights, but Hanguang-jun tends to start out strong, overwhelming opponents with power they can't hope to match with the aim of ending any fights quickly and permanently. It seems that Zewu-jun waits, biding his time with perfectly executed maneuvers (Lan Jingyi thinks, with a sort of distantly hysterical humor, that he should take notes) until he can strike out.

It doesn't take long for that point to come. The woman backs away panting.

"Why are you here?" Zewu-jun asks again. He's not even out of breath.

The woman spits a bit of blood onto the ground. "Fuck you," she snarls, and lunges forward again. Zewu-jun doesn't even block, just leaps to the side, avoiding her strike. She's definitely losing her control.

"Did you come to steal from our library or to damage it?" is Zewu-jun's next question, delivered alongside a quick stab toward her arm that she barely jumps out of the way of.

"Steal, of course," she says breathlessly. "You won't stop me," she boasts. Lan Jingyi rolls his eyes. Doesn't she realize she's losing? The woman continues, "I've already managed to sneak in once, I'll do it again. Next time I'll just kill anyone who gets in my way."

Zewu-jun's back is to Lan Jingyi, so he can't see what expression is on Zewu-jun's face. Something changes in his posture, though, and he goes on the offensive, leaping toward her with a long slice of Shuoyue. It hits her shoulder as she tries to sidestep him. 

"You will not," he snaps. The woman brings her sword up again, aiming for his neck, but Zewu-jun blocks it with his sword's sheath. She tries to kick him, but he pivots forcefully, negating her blow and bringing his sheath down to hit the back of her knee. She staggers to the ground.

Shuoyue glints as Zewu-jun brings it up to her throat. "Tell me how you got in," he says, his voice steady.

The woman glares up at him and pulls her arm back to swing her sword once more. Before she even has it off the ground, her sword goes flying as Shuoyue sweeps through the air and lodges in her hand. She screams.

"I asked you several questions which you have refused to answer," Zewu-jun says, returning the tip of his blade to her throat. "You have threatened one of my disciples, the security of our home, and the most sacred possessions we have. You cannot possibly believe you will be allowed to walk free."

"You all think you're so special," she sneers, but Lan Jingyi sees her swallow and her eyes dart around. "Plenty of you still died just like everyone else during the Sunshot Campaign. All those pretty jade pendants had to go somewhere, and some of them made their way to people who're happy to sell them. It's not hard to get a hold of one."

"I see," Zewu-jun's voice has gone even colder, and Lan Jingyi is starting to fear what exactly he might do. This isn't what Lan Jingyi is used to from him. Zewu-jun was never stern, not like Hanguang-jun or xiansheng. "We will look into this. Thank you for this information." He steps back, and the woman kneels there for a moment, her hand bleeding sluggishly. Before she can move, Zewu-jun slashes his hand through the air and a glowing binding appears around her. She falls to the ground awkwardly. "You will be shown before the Lan elders in the morning. They will pass judgement." Zewu-jun turns away from the woman struggling on the ground.

Lan Jingyi can't help but stare at him. When Zewu-jun comes to him, he kneels down. "Are you okay?" he asks, helping Lan Jingyi up.

"Yeah, I'm… fine. Are… how did you know to come out?" Lan Jingyi sneaks a glance at the woman, face-down on the path. "Are you… okay?"

Zewu-jun smiles for the first time that night, but it's faint and tired looking. "I'm alright. I wasn't asleep, and I heard you." They're not far from the Hanshi, Lan Jingyi realizes now.

"I'm sorry you had to come out of seclusion for me," Lan Jingyi says.

"Don't apologize for that," Zewu-jun says, shaking his head. "I would be a poor sect leader if I allowed one of our disciples to be harmed within our own walls."

Lan Jingyi looks back at the woman again. "Should we… do something with her?"

The night is still very dark, but he can see Zewu-jun's face go cold again. "I suppose we should. I find myself disinclined to show mercy to those who try to violate the safety of the Cloud Recesses." He sighs, and Lan Jingyi remembers, in a slow trickle of half-forgotten lessons, the stories of Zewu-jun saving ancient texts from the burning of the Cloud Recesses. 

"We could always leave her by the wall of discipline," he says, determinedly cheerful. "She did break a whole lot of rules."

Zewu-jun looks at him and smiles again, this time a little more genuine. "It's certainly tempting. It would likely be better if we were to leave her in a warded guest chamber, though. That way we'll know exactly where our visitor is."

Lan Jingyi huffs. "I suppose," he says, sounding as petulant as he can muster. It usually works to cheer Sizhui up, so he figures it will probably work on Zewu-jun. "You're not going to make me copy rules for this, are you?" He's not actually worried, but the normality feels necessary at the moment.

"No, I think we can overlook this once, since your actions led to the prevention of something that could have been very bad." Zewu-jun walks over to the woman and places a talisman on her head. She slumps suddenly, and Lan Jingyi thinks he hears snoring. The binding disappears, and Zewu-jun motions him over. They get her propped up between the two of them and start walking toward the guest quarters.

"Can I just say," Lan Jingyi starts, trying not to sound too delighted. It would be improper but also… "That was so cool," he gushes.

At that, Zewu-jun even laughs a little. Lan Jingyi smiles to himself. He may not be the best disciple in the Cloud Recesses, but he can stop a thief, and more importantly, he can make people happy every once in a while. That's probably good enough.

[chiseler]

Hero of Our Nation

I first encountered Roger Ramjet on a Chicago public access station in 1983. It was part of an early morning show apparently aimed at stoner insomniacs. The show came on at five and also included episodes of Lancelot Link, Secret Chimp, that awful Beatles cartoon, and a weather report clarified by some appropriate pop song (“Here Comes the Sun” or “Here Comes the Rain Again”). I was usually up and around that early for some godforsaken reason, and originally started watching on account of Lancelot Link. Always did love that Lancelot Link. But Roger Ramjet was, well, let’s just say it was a revelation.

Roger Ramjet, “ that All-American good guy and devil may care flying fool” (as he compulsively introduces himself) was a none too bright and none too coordinated drug-dependent space age superhero in an ongoing battle against the assorted forces of evil (or more specifically, N.A.S.T.Y.) to preserve the American Way of Life. He was square-jawed, straight-laced, straight-faced, and True Blue if little else, so hyper-patriotic that nearly every time his name is spoken aloud an American flag, a bald eagle, or a rotating ring of stars appears on the screen. After catching one or two episodes, I forgot all about Lancelot Link.

The show was easy to overlook, especially when squeezed between the Beatles and some secret agent chimps with a psychedelic band. The episodes were only five minutes long (maybe seven with the abrasive theme song filling out the opening and closing credits), and were so crudely drawn and animated it might at a glance seem like something a couple of junior high school kids threw together in their basement one weekend. The shows were so primitive they hardly bothered with niceties like “backgrounds” satisfied instead to settle for rudimentary suggestions of a setting. But the writing was so sharp and the voice talent so good what it really felt like, if you paid attention, was a spoof of a ‘40s radio serial like Sky King or Gangbusters, complete with a soap opera organ and illustrated by a handful of jerky drawings scratched out by someone’s kid. People who thought Jay Ward’s Bullwinkle and Dudley Do-Right were crude when compared with the output from Disney or Warner Brothers had no idea what “crude” meant. 

Looking at it today what it reminds me of more than anything are the paper cutout animations of the earliest episodes of South Park, before they upgraded to Flash. Along with the lo-fi stylistics, the humor was clearly aimed at an adult audience while pretending otherwise.  You may not find any child molestation jokes or crass religious cracks in Roger Ramjet, but for 1965 the lightning-fast humor was pretty hepcat and sophisticated, with undisguised satirical references to the Cold War, Central American turmoil, and the  Vietnam War (“Hey kids, this is Roger Ramjet,” demanding that you stay tuned to this station to see my next adventure,” Roger announces in his commanding superhero baritone. “Or I’ll see to it that all you little rascals are drafted.”) . Mixed in with the topical jokes we also get some highly unlikely name drops, from Noel Coward and Henry Cabot Lodge to James Joyce and bawdy nightclub performer Rusty Warren, as well as film parodies and  literary nods to the likes of Catch-22 and Catcher in the Rye.  It’s also a little less than what you might call racially sensitive by modern standards (consider Mexican revolutionaries The Enchilada Brothers, Beef and Chicken).

While a lot of the more timely jokes might be lost in the murk of the over 50 years since it first aired, there’s plenty of rapid-fire absurdity that’s timeless, from the misspelled title cards punctuating the narration to the self-consciously dumb coked-up adventures.

Bullwinkle aired from ‘61 to ‘64. Roger Ramjet came along a year later and Jay Ward’s influence is undeniable. The difference was Roger Ramjet crammed the equivalent number of bad jokes, references, and plot twists of a typical 8-part Bullwinkle serial into each five-minute episode, both mirroring the rapid-fire screwball dialogue of the ‘30s and the frenetic quick-cut comedy to come along a year or two later in shows like The Monkees and Laugh-In.

The episodes were produced with essentially no budget and were cranked out very quickly by a small team of writers, voiceover artists and animators with solid day jobs in radio and TV. They were all seasoned pros, some dating back to the days of classic radio, who worked on the show after hours as a way of letting off a little steam and tossing around a few cynical, subversive  cultural jabs their day jobs wouldn’t allow. The show was created originally by animator Fred Crippen  (who went on to work on some pretty dreadful crap like the Extreme Ghostbusters  and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles) and Ken Snyder, an ad exec who moved over into producing cartoons. They brought in a remarkable team of voice talent and comedy writers, including Gene Moss (the voice of Smokey the Bear) Jim Thurmam (who did a lot of kids shows including Sesame Street), Dick Beals (the original voice of Gumby), and the great Gary Owens, a drive-time deejay in LA who would get national recognition soon enough as the on-screen announcer for Laugh-In. Although they would all get specific credits in the end (Crippen as director, Moss as a writer) it was a communal effort, in which everyone contributed to the writing, and everyone, even the executive producer, did a few of the voices. Apart from the regular crew, careful listeners might also catch a few uncredited guest appearances by some surprisingly big names (I’m told Sinatra and Dean Martin appear in an episode, but I’m still looking for that one). Owens was the star, though, as his ability to read the most ridiculous lines in a dramatic deadpan made him the perfect Roger Ramjet. Together they made 156 episodes (about 150 still exist), which were sold directly into syndication in ‘65 as half hour shows, each containing three unconnected adventures. I can’t say as I’m exactly sure who they thought their target audience was at the time, except maybe each other.

Much like William Conrad in Bullwinkle, each show opened with our narrator, Steve Allen alum Dave Ketchum, setting the mood and the scene (“In today’s depressing episode,” he’d begin with dramatic enthusiasm, or maybe it was an “existentialist episode,” “phlegmatic episode,” “rickety episode,”  “hairy episode,” or “ethnic episode”). Then we’re out of the gate at a breakneck pace, with a flurry of gags coming from every direction. “Ramjet rode into Boot Hill,” we’re told,  “where the men were men and the women were men, which can get pretty old after awhile.”

While none of the shows are connected, there are a few recurring characters and locations worth remembering: Roger hails from Lompoc, an actual California town (“where nothing ever happens, and seldom does”) and  takes his orders from General G.I. Brassbottom, a no nonsense military man who “hadn’t had an original idea since he was a civilian.” He’s also assisted by Yank, Doodle, Dan, and Dee, the unusually chubby  kids who make up the American Eagle squadron. Like Roger, all the members of the squadron wear their white jumpsuits and flight helmets at all times (Roger even wears his helmet on dates), and in true superhero sidekick fashion, their primary job is to get Roger out of scrapes and make sure his drugs are handy. 

That’s one little detail more than a few casual viewers have taken umbrage with. Roger, see, is a pretty hapless character most of the time, but he repeatedly saves the world thanks to a little help from his Proton Energy Pills (PEP), which take five seconds to kick in, then give him the strength of 20 A-Bombs for 20 seconds. Modern viewers seem a little uncomfortable with the idea of a superhero gulping amphetamines in order to function, but all I can say is, well, it was a different time, and hey, it worked for Roger and Elvis both.

The proton energy pills come in handy when dealing with his arch-nemesis Noodles Romanoff, the short, trench coat and fedora wearing head of N.A.S.T.Y. (the National Association of Spies, Traitors, and Yahoos). Romanoff may not have a Natasha, but he does have a gang of cronies and thugs who all mumble in unison (save for one, who can’t seem to get the rhythm). 

Along with Romanoff and his gang, Roger also has to contend with some lanky alien robots, the Solenoids (voiced by executive priducer Ken Snyder), and their repeated efforts to invade the planet in assorted ridiculous ways (in one episode, they begin kidnapping all the Miss America contestants, who “were disappearing faster than co-eds at a Dartmouth weekend.”)

When not saving the world, Roger found himself competing with the smarmy hotshot test pilot Lance Crossfire (who sounds an awful lot like burt Lancaster) for the affections of Lotta Love, the fickle Southern belle with a taste for the finer things in life.

Then there are the adventures themselves. Some seem standard superhero fare, but only to a point. Earth is besieged by flying saucer attacks (sort of). Roger’s hometown is terrorized by a werewolf (sort of). Roger plays tennis with a kangaroo, or becomes the first man to surf in space,  or, in a personal favorite, attempts to stop the flow of bootleg comic books into America’s drug stores.

Actually, there’s an interesting moment in that one that revealed just how subtle you could be even with animation this unsophisticated. Okay, so Noodles Romanoff, see, is replacing real comics in drug store racks with bootlegs in which popular superheroes are humiliated, all in an effort to destroy the morale of America’s children. After Brassbottom shows Roger a few examples (the issues include “Superman Gets Beat Up by a Chicken!” and “Ratman Stubs His Toe!”) he explains that if this sort of thing continues, “America’s kids won’t have anyone to look up to except YOU, Ramjet.” Then, for just an instant in that crude and jerky style, Roger cuts his eyes toward the camera, revealing in that moment everything we needed to know, namely that it’s what he’s always wanted.

Thirty years on and that still sticks with me.

In the end, though, the characters and storylines are secondary at best In Roger Ramjet. At heart it’s  a matter of trying to keep up with all the lightning-quick  jokes and wordplay, the non-sequiturs and references. In the five minute span of one cowboy-themed episode I counted nods to at least seven classic Western films, from High Noon to She Wore a Yellow Ribbon, and I suspect I missed a few. It really is such a dizzying blur of dialogue and bad puns and cultural references, sometimes, christ, even just references to old jokes that take the form of bad puns (“Waiter, there’s a spy in my soup” or “how many angels can swim in the head of a beer?”), that absurd as it all is, repeated viewings are a necessity to catch everything. It’s a bit like having the complete contents of an issue of MAD magazine jammed onto a single page. It can make your head hurt after a while, but it’s worth it. Whether the density and the pace make it better or worse for stoner viewing is something, I guess, each stoner will need to answer for him or herself. Lots of bright colors, though.

In 1965 there was nothing new about making cartoons with adult sensibilities in mind. Betty Boop and Bugs Bunny were made to be shown as short subjects to largely adult audiences. Jay Ward’s cartoons a few decades down the line were near-revolutionary for smuggling hip, subversive political humor into what had become an exclusively child-friendly format. What made Roger Ramjet so radical was it’s blend of ‘30s radio style with mid-’60s cynicism, as well as its foreshadowing of our shrinking attention spans, a hyper-condensed proton pill of comedy and commentary disguised as just another dumb, low-rent superhero cartoon. Although it’s barely remembered today, its influence is still evident in most any subversive animated show you can name, even if they’ve slowed things down a bit.

by Jim Knipfel

[optimistpax]

How would you recommend breaching the transformers fandom? I’ve only watched tfp and the two new Netflix series.

Sincerely, a wandering Star Wars fan who’s left their home

Ayy! I hope you’re having fun so far! I’ve only recently gotten into transformers myself ^^

I think it really depends on what you’re interested in! (and how much time you have on your hands) Transformers is big enough and has been going on long enough that there’s a whole lot of different kinds of content that’s interesting to different folks! 

If You Liked Transformers Prime... If you enjoyed Transformers Prime, they have two other TV shows that are set in the same universe as well as 3 novels and a couple comics. The first season of each of the TV shows (robots in disguise and rescue bots/rescue bots academy) can be found on netflix, but a fair warning they’re aimed at a younger audience and so are quite a bit lighter in tone than tfp. So if you go in expecting the same kind of show you will be disappointed. But if you’ve enjoyed lighter episodic cartoons in the past (such as the og teen titans, young justice, or spider-man (I only watched superhero cartoons, avatar, and anime as a kid so that’s all i have for reference lmao sorry)) I’d recommend checking them out! I personally had fun watching RID and I’m working my way through Rescue Bots rn and it’s really cute :) 

I haven’t read the comics, but I have read the first two novels and while they are by no definition good I had an extremely good time reading them and live texting @autothotsrollout. So if you’re looking for a bad book to read and make fun of and want to support your local library, check them out!

Other TV Shows There are a couple other popular TV shows and I have by no means seen all of them but I’ll talk about the ones I have seen! 

Transformers Animated: It’s the same art director as teen titans and hits a lot of the same storytelling beats so imo it’s really similar! (The whole series is available for free on Tubi!) It’s pretty popular in the fandom as far as I can tell because I think a lot of people grew up with it as their first introduction to transformers(?) I think I personally like some of the other shows better, but it’s definitely still worth checking out!

Cyberverse: The other show I’ve watched (am watching?) outside the tfp universe! (The first season is also available on netflix) It starts off kind of rough, but if you’re into worldbuilding, space adventures, and appreciate shows with good art and music I definitely think it’s worth it! It takes some directions the others don’t (as far as I know) in later seasons so that’s been really fun!

2005 IDW Comics As someone who loves comics maybe a little too much, I may be biased when I say the comics are very very good. There are also very very many. I’ve read the first season of more than meets the eye, and the first installments of both the wreckers and autocracy(?) trilogies. I personally would recommend starting with The Death of Optimus Prime (can be found in more than meets the eye volume 1) and then reading More Than Meets the Eye if you’re looking for a place to jump in! Unfortunately my library only has season one and does not have robots in disguise (mtmte’s sister comic series) but I have heard it’s a good idea to read the two series in tandem. You could also probably start with Autocracy if that’s what you can get your hands on first!

anyways the idw comics are great if you’re looking for transformers content that has room to cover heavier topics and more mature storylines. I can’t speak for the series I haven’t read, but mtmte  also has a great sense of timing/humor and includes heists and space adventures, which is all I ever want in a comic tbh

ahaha whoops I didn’t mean to write an entire novel there. I hope this is helpful and that you have fun with whatever transformers media you decide to check out next!

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Fighting with Aliens”

So I wrote this to address a very interesting difference between humans and aliens because I realized it could potentially cause serious conflict if an outsider would to look on. Has fight scenes in it obviously, and blood, so there is that. I can foresee some of you not liking the outcome, so if you are easily bothered, probably don’t read this one. 

Where was that man! She swore, every morning he was somewhere different. Like what kind of person has a schedule THAT erratic. She wondered how he even survived as a person without structure in his life. But then again, that’s what she was here for, to bring structure, and he very much desperately needed it.

She was determined that by the time she was done, he would have a schedule predictable to the minute.

That was, of course, if she could find him.

She swore that one of these days she was going to have to lojack that man, fit him with some kind of tracking system in his sleep so she could find him every morning.

Unfortunately, right now she was on her own, and was forced to start from the top down starting with the bridge then moving down to the administrative deck. 

She rather hoped he might already be in his office, but when she found nothing she definitely kicked herself for being that stupid. Admiral Vir was NEVER in his office. In fact, he was notorious for avoiding it whenever he could.

Then again, Admiral Vir was notorious for a lot of things, and that was included but not limited to avoiding his office, wearing heelies on the job, making horrible dad jokes, blasting music on the bridge, and eating all the popsicles.

Simon herself was notorious for almost the exact opposite, her perfectly pressed uniform, her ability to be one time down to the minute, her tendency to get stressed when things didn’t go to plan, and her surprisingly frequent inability to understand the Admiral’s jokes.

It made her feel sort of bad considering that Even the little alien doctor Krill seemed to get it, and if there was anyone on the ship that she could understand, it was him. He had a schedule like a rock solid wall of dependability, a mind like a steel trap, and a sense of humor so dry and clever it ALSO went over her head.

She turned the corner brooding her face pulled down into a frown nearly running into a figure rushing in the opposite direction. She had to leap out of the way in surprise as Dr. katie, the dark haired bespectacled attending physician, yelped in shock.

“Dr Katie!”

Dr. katie put a hand over her chest, “Simon, you scared me half to death.”

Simon rubbed the back of her head a bit, “Sorry, um, do you have an idea where the Admiral is?”

“Oh Adam, yes I know where he is. I was actually headed down there right now if you want to join.”

Simon nodded and fell into step beside the tall doctor.

“I can never find him in the morning.”

“Yeah, no that does sound like Adam. If it helps, just head down to krill’s office one of these days, and we should be able to give you administrative access to his tracking system.”

“Wait, you-”

“Yeah sort of a precaution after he kept getting kidnapped so much, plus he has a habit of hiding when he gets stressed, which isn’t so much a problem these days, but in the past it was a real bitch to find him.”

Simon shook her head in near amazement as she followed Dr. Katie down a set of stairs and onto the crew deck.

They walked for a few meters when the sound of metal ringing on metal reached her ears.

She trailed after Dr. katie as they came around the corner into the massive Rec room at the center of the crew deck. She didn’t come here much and so would never have thought to look. She was rather awkward around people and didn’t know how to talk to them in a normal manner outside work related topics.

She had always been horrible talking to people, getting to know them, or bonding with them in general.

Humans weren’t exactly easy to understand.

So she tended to spend most of her time locked away in her office or in her room, or sitting on the bridge where she could work, where things were procedural, and memorizing notes and lists was a strength. When it came to work there were always protocols, measures to get things done, and a strict adherence to he rules. When it came to people,  there was no telling what they were going to do: the Admiral being the prime example.

Generally Admiral Vir was not the kind of person she would like to spend time with. He was extroverted, outgoing, erratic, and high energy, but he was a very empathetic man, and he made up for most of the other things with patience and kindness towards her even when she didn’t allow it for herself.

In return, she had put all her effort into trying to understand him. She had observed, and watched and made lists and taken notes. She knew what he liked and what he didn’t like. She knew what people on the crew were his closest friends, she knew his favorite places to spend time.

She had a detailed profile written up about him in her personal log -- which never occurred to her could be misconstrued as being super super creepy.

Those were the reasons why she knew he was a science fiction nerd, he had a collection of old movies from the information age, he liked a mix of alternative, hard rock, heavy metal, and punk, when he ate his food he insisted on eating the items in order from least favorite to most favorite, he benched 270, and he talked with his family every friday night at six.

Of course that wasn’t exactly a comprehensive list, but just things she knew off the top of her head to better understand the man that she was working for She hoped that the more that she knew one day she would be able to understand him and work well with him without forcing him to hold her hand when it came to running his daily routine.

However, when she stepped into the rec room, she received a shock that she had not expected or really appreciated.

She wasn’t a big fan of surprises.

Yet this was, indeed, a surprise.

The rec room was large and circular inhabiting the very center of the fourth deck. The outer ring contained chairs and tables and TVs and pool tables, all of the sort of recreational things that normal people liked to do in their downtime, but in the center of that there was another large ring, bounded by walls on all sides and with benches looking inward.

Simon hadn’t been sure what that was for when she was first brought aboard the ship, though now she was getting a first hand demonstration as to its use.

Admiral Vir stood in the circle, lightly dressed and wearing hard leather padding on his head, shoulders, chest, arms, and upper legs. In one hand he was holding a metal staff just a little taller than he was.

His knees were bent in a low crouch, and the staff was held at a low forward angle.

On the other side of the ring stood one of the Drev clan members.

Flipping through her mental notes Simon remembered her name as Sunny or Chalan in her native language. She was the Chief weapons officer aboard the ship, was a mechanic, and rather short of a Drev. her and the Admiral tended to spend a lot of time together, and so she assumed that they were close friends.

However the part of this that surprised her tended towards the fact that, she didn’t know that Admiral Vir knew how to use a quarterstaff.

She froze in her place just as one of the watching drev -- a large red one named Cannon pronounced Kanan in his native tongue, slammed a metal spear against the ground to mark the beginning of the round..

Simon yeled in shock and surprise as the two charged at each other with roars, of what seemed to be rage -- though she had never been good at divining emotions.

Metal slammed against metal as the two crashed into each other. Sparks shed out to either side as they exchange a flurry of blows. He struck to the right, she parried to the left, she brought the right side of her spear up to try and catch him off guard, he spun away ducking under and jabbing forward. She blocked the jab to glance off to her right, and kicked out at him with one of her feet.

He dodged to the side and aimed a sheering blow at her head, which she caught last second on the shaft of her spear.

The fury of their fight left Simon reeling in shock and surprise. They didn’t pull their punches, they didn’t aim for the body only. This was full force, full speed, real weapons no holds barred combat!

In the stands Drev cheered them on with great enthusiasm. The humans that were watching had mixed feelings. Ramirez and Maverick were standing with the Drev screaming at Adam to get his head in the game and not be a wuss. Other humans were grimacing and wincing.

Dr. Krill st to the side looking exasperated at the same time he appeared at least sort of worried.

The Celzex onlookers were cheering with the frenzy of the Drev, yelling insults and encouragement to their favorite contender. A few of them were sitting on the shoulders of other enthusiastic, or, in some cases, concerned humans. THe FInnari huddled together around one specific human who looked to be having the time of her life comforting the tiny creatures.

And the Tesraki were nowhere to be seen, probably hiding or run away somewhere to count money.

Adam ducked under a cything blow that would have sent him straight to the emergency room and cut upward quickly, catching Sunny hard on the lower arm. She backed away showing no sign other that the blow had managed to phase her.

From there the fighting only grew more intense. From across the room Simon could hear the swish of the metal as it cythed through the air.

The clattering of steel hitting steel was practically deafening. SHe had no idea how the two of them were still fighting without their hands hurting.

And then Sunny feinted to her left passing into his blind spot where the epatch was.

He turned to face her, but she had already been moving.

A loud THWACK rent the air.

Admiral Vir’s feet left the ground as he was pitched back violently a good three feet before slamming into the ground. The metal rod was jostled from his hands and went clattering across the ring.

The cr4owd had taken to their feet as a chorus of sympathetic noises rose from both sides.

Simon stood in shock for a half moment as Admiral Vir groaned and crawled to his hands and knees.

Sunny approached quarterstaff raised.

Simon raced forward and jumped into the ring, hands held up, “STOP!”

Sunny pulled to a halt looking confused.

The crowd booed.

“What are you doing!” her voice went up a few octaves, not sure what was going on. Why was no one trying to stop this. Admiral Vir sat back on his heels, wiping blood from his mouth and chin, which was dripping down from his nose, “Simon.”

The Drev above her were frowning, “Get out of the ring lieutenant.”

“No, what-”

“You're interrupting a duel, get out of the ring.”

Simon turned in a confused circle, “But-”

Admiral vir stood, holding his nose waving a hand at the Drev, “Timeout guys, she’s not familiar with Drev war practices, so give her a break.”

The Drev backed down a little but still looked a little miffed as Admiral grabbed her by the arm and dragged her out of the circle, “May I talk to you for a few minutes.” He marched her out of the circle, a hand on her arm, face still bleeding. Katie offered him a gauze pad, which he held to his face as he walked her oer to a table and sat her down.

“Simon, I  may have failed to mention this rule to you, but it is highly improper to intervene in a drev dueling match.”

Simon shook her head still reeling with confusion and horror, “But, Admiral, she hit you! Under section two subsection b of the UNSC manual it describes an act of violence on a UNSC ship as domestic battery.”

He coked an eyebrow, “You think Sunny just committed domestic assault, like punching your wife or husband or something.”

“Well yeah! Since we live on a ship, the UNSC classifies any aggressive action as domestic in nature.”

He sighed, “Simon, I am the leader of a Drev clan, I was adopted by two, which means I am a Drev and I must abide by their customs and rules.” He went to place a hand on her arm, but drew back after a moment knowing that she didn’t like to be touched, “Look, Simon, I know this is hard to understand, but the Drev aren't like us. To be Drev, to be friends with them, to be in a relationship with one if that were the case, means letting go of some preconceived human notions.”

“But hitting each other is not ok! She insisted 

Admiral Vir shook his head in a long suffering sort of way, “Simon, you're looking at this through the scope of being human. If it were a human that hit me, by all means lock them in the brig. Because when humans are aggressive it is attached to anger, or frustration or aggression. But when Drev fight it isn’t attached to emotion, in fact their mating practices require them to duel each other. Drev relationships seen by humans are often violent and aggressive, but it's part of who and what they are. To them something like this is a sign of trust and friendship. You cannot judge them based on human standards any more than they can judge us based on our human ones.”

“But I-”

“Simon, I agreed to this. I walked in here this morning and I said, hey sunny want to beat the tar out of me. To them an offer like that is a good thing, its….. Well it means much more than what it means for humans. Besides, once upon a time I lived in  a Drev village for a few months and was beaten up by pretty much everyone  I Came in contact with. From their language and their culture, I have since gained a much different understanding of fighting. I have a different relationship with it now.”

Simon shook her head, this was difficult to compute. People hitting each other was bad, that was a rule, that was something that was black and white to her. She didn’t understand how this man could consider it a good thing, or even as a sign of friendship. It didn’t make sense in the framework of everything she understood.

He sighed, “Look, how about this, you trust me to know what is right and wrong when it comes to the Drev. Working with them I expect things to be aggressive, I expect them to be violent. Assume that everything they do is a low level of aggressive. A lot of people would look at my friendship with Sunny and think that something is wrong with it based on how it looks from a human perspective, but both of us have made compromises, and it is actually a very healthy thing we have going. Honestly if she pulled her punches and didn’t hit me in the dueling ring I would be offended.

Simon still wasn’t sure about this.

He tapped his fingers on the table, “Ok, this might help, the Drev society is based on a very specific set of rules. You should go talk to Cannon about it. Sunny isn’t going to hit me outside of a duel. To strike someone in anger is considered to be bad as well. As far as outside the ring, Drev are expected to be bossy, pushy, stubborn, and mildly aggressive, so Anything they do that falls within a scale of mild is alright.

He stood, “Now if you'll excuse me. I have a Drev’s Ass to kick.”

Dr. Katie took the gauze from his hand as he clamberted back into the ring, blood still staining his mouth and chin.

Simon watched nervously as sunny spun her staff around.

“Done taking your little break.”

He cracked his neck, “Done taking my break, and to make it even, I’ll start from the ground.”

She snorted and Cannon slammed his spear into the ground once again.

Admiral Vir rolled to the side, picking up his spear on the way as Sunny charged after.

She cut down towards his face, and he caught it on the flat of his spear kicking upwards and catching her in the knee. 

She scrambled back.

He lept to his feet.

The fight went on like this.

Sunny got caught in the face once a shallow cut bleeding orange down her cheek, but instead of growing angry her eyes seemed to brighten with excitement. Admiral Vir took hits on the shoulder and the leg. Sunny got hit in the stomach and chest.

The fight continued, Admiral Vir was thrown to the ground. The Celzex were screaming in delight.

Sunny charged, but the admiral rolled forward thrusting the spear to roll along the ground before him.

Sunny was to late, her foot landed right on the shaft of the spear, and the spear rolled. Her leg slipped out from underneath her and she went crashing to the ground.

Admiral Vir leaped forward spinning the spear behind his back.

The room went quiet.

Admiral Vir Sat stradling Sunny’s chest one end of the quarterstaff to her throat.

He leaned in a little, “Better luck next time.”

The crowd Cheered.

Sunny raised her hands, “Good fight for a puny runt.”

“I could say the same about you he teased, rolling off to the side.”

Simon wasn’t really sure what to make of any of this. She still hadn’t managed to reconcile the fact that hitting wasn’t necessarily a bad thing because when Admiral Vir came out of the circle he was limping and still wiping blood from his face. If she had seen that on the street down on earth she would be very worried about him. She would call the cops.

But he was also smiling walking with Sunny as she limped right along with him. 

The way they looked at each other was…. strange .

She couldn’t place it.

She would need to rework her profile of him just a little. And she would have to rework her profile of the Drev. it seemed as if she was going to have to learn a whole new set of social rules for the different alien species.

She sighed in frustration.

She hadn’t even figured humans out yet and now she was expected to do more.

This was going to be a very long deployment. 

[yukichouji]

I got some more asks for Theron, if you'd like to do them ^^

How does your character behave around people they like? And around people they dislike?

What is their least favourite or most embarrassing moment from their childhood?

What is your OC's voice like (pitch, strength, tempo and rhythm of speeck, pronounciation, accents, etc.)?

What does your OC like to ridicule and/or what do they find stupid?

Feel free to omit, reinterpret or in general answer as you like ^^

Hey :D Thank you so much for your ask! I am truely sorry it took me so long to answer alskdjflsad Life got in the way of the fun things for a bit, alas. But here we finally are! :)

How does your character behave around people they like? And around people they dislike?

Around people he likes Theron is pretty chill. He likes to crack jokes, poke fun at his friends (though not in a malicious way, just a bit annoying at times, perhaps xD) and really lean into his quick, sarcastic humor. Though he can and will be serious if the situation calls for it. He cares deeply about his friends and by the way he treats them that is easy enough to see. He's a warm, friendly kind of guy.

As for people he doesn't like, he'll be pretty much the exact opposite. Except for the sarcasm, that one's a constant. But, if he doesn't like someone they'll definitely know that as well. He gets cold and hostile even, depending on how big his dislike. He'll be mouthy and difficult and have a hard time reining himself in if he has to work together with the person he dislikes for some reason. Doesn't always make things easy, but it's his way of looking out for himself and making sure people with ill intent stay very far away from him and know what they'll be getting into should they try anything.

What is their least favourite or most embarrassing moment from their childhood?

Oh, my xD Well, he knew pretty early on that he wanted to be a hunter and the kids in his clan got these little training bows and arrows to practice with, you know the kind I mean? Ones that will hit dummies but that won't cause any real damage if you accidentally hit something you're not supposed to unless the aim is really unfortunate. And little Theron was not happy with those. Because how dare anyone treat him like a child. He got himself so worked up about it when he was about 8 that he talked Tamlen into sneaking into their clan's craftman's shop and stealing one of the grownup bows and some arrows to prove to everyone that they were strong enough to handle it. They didn't use the training dummies for their little experiment because that would have gotten them spottet right away, but isntead Theron had this wild idea that they were going to sneak out into the woods and bring backs some game to prove themselves. Not only did he completely fail to draw the bow they'd swept, it being way too big for him, but he also managed to get both himself and Tamlen so completely lost it took the clan two entire days to find the two kids huddled in a cave miles away from camp to escape the rain and the cold. Tamlen got sick because of it, down for a whole week with a fever and everything and Theron got the scolding of a lifetime. The whole clan was so very angry with him because they had been worried out of their minds. He was pretty bitter about the unfairness of it all, but as he grew older and less resentful he eventually understood how stupid he'd been then and what all could have gone horribly, horribly wrong. Tamlen and him were incredibly lucky to not have come across anything or anyone hostile those two days, otherwise they'd both have been dead or much, much worse for sure. He still feels bad for having done something so stupid and endangering Tamlen in the process just because the boy with no parents felt a need to prove something.

What is your OC's voice like (pitch, strength, tempo and rhythm of speeck, pronounciation, accents, etc.)?

Ok, I'm not sure how good I am going to be at describing this one (english is not my first language and I am struggling a bit here xD) but I will try!

On a scale from really low to really high his voice is probably somwhere around the middle, leaning slightly towards high? And a bit nasal, but not in a way that's horribly anoying or weird. He likes to talk quickly, so much so that he consciously has to slow himself down sometimes. It's like his mouth is racing to keep up with his brain and that's moving too damn fast. His voice is firm and sure, usually, a bit brash even. But it can change a lot when he really gets serious about something and isn't deflecting through jokes. It gets lower and slower then and his intonation gets calmer as well. His accent is Ferelden (because that's where he grew up) but mixed with that typically dalish accent? I am bad at pinpointing accents in general so I can't really say what real world accents those are derived from.

I hope that made some sort of sense xD

What does your OC like to ridicule and/or what do they find stupid?

One of the things Theron finds stupid is when people complicate things overly much. Like, when there is a simple solution for a problem he won't have a lot of patience for someone moaning about propriety or tradition or whatnot. He's a guy, who likes a direct approach best. Which is also why he dislikes it when people talk around an issue instead of just saying straight what they mean/want/the problem is. He will also mercilessly poke fun at someone if they overestimate themselves, boast about their prowess and then fail at the task they set out to do. Though the way he makes fun of that will depend on whether he likes the person in question or not. If he likes the person it will very much be good natured, if he doesn't his words are going to be chosen to make the other feel it. All of that definitely means that he has absolutely no patience for politics and the delicacies of high society's machinations. It just doesn't make sense to him and probably never will.

[docholligay]

Divided by Four: Eighteen

Basic training would begin in three weeks, and she had been bouncing about in anticipation, but for the time being, Lena Oxton, who was kicking around what she thought her callsign might be, was still a civilian pilot, walking around the tiny little plane she shared with at five other people and afforded with her hours collecting glasses and washing up Saturdays and weeknights at the pub. 

It helped that the other five were also Oxtons, and so Lena was expected to pay a fair share if not necessarily an equal one. 

It was not an impressive plane, she supposed, as she crouched by the landing gear, tightening a bolt, but she loved it nonetheless. It was only a little Cessna that wanted a bit of a new paint job and had nothing to recommend itself in the field of agility, but any blemishes against it were removed the moment she got it in the air. On the ground, she might have dreamed about owning something more along the lines of a Piper, or a Cirrus, depending on the direction she wanted to go, but Lena found that once she was in the air, her favorite plane was the plane she was currently flying. 

Which didn’t make her any less enthusiastic for the sort of planes she would fly in the RAF. 

Her mother had been a squadron leader during the crisis, and her dad was a decorated pilot, and she had the Oxton name behind her, which would either give the instructors confidence in her or make them twice as hard on her. 

Well, they could be twice as hard on her if they wanted. She was twice as good, and she knew it. She was born under a lucky star, and had the near-misses to prove it. 

“So you think you’ll get into fast-jet school?” Her dad walked around the side of the plane, running a hand across the tail to check it as he did so. 

“Oh, so you doubt me now?” Lena laughed and sprung to her feet, tossing the wrench from one hand to the other. “If I don’t, it’s you who taught me to fly, so doesn’t say much for you.” 

Bert chuckled. “No, I’d suppose it doesn’t. MIght be a bit too short, eh?”

“‘Ave you know I am the exact minimum ‘eight required, I am.” She held herself straight. “Checked just this morning.” 

Bert studied the edge of the window and smile. ‘Be sure you stand up straight.” 

Lena looked at him for a moment. “Dad,” she waited for him to look at her, “Do you not want me to go?” 

He looked at her for a long moment, scratched the back of his head, and put his hands on hips. “Lena--”

“Because I’m going any’ow. I love you, but I am going.” 

Lena and her dad had been--well, it wasn’t fair to say on their own in a family like the Oxtons, but without a mum certainly--since Lena was six years old, and mum had died. She was an only child, and he hadn’t even thought of dating until Lena herself started two years ago. It was, of course, difficult in bits, but all lives were difficult in some way, and Lena knew of no one else as close to any parent as she was. They’d spent years taking care of each other and confiding in each other, and though she never would have said so, there was a part of her that wasn’t anxious to leave, either. Her father had promised to take care of her, when her mum has died. To keep her safe. He’d dragged himself up from his own grief, and done it, and because they had learned love could be lost so easily, they rarely took the other for granted. 

So nothing was all bad, really. 

“I want you to go,” he sighed, and chuckled, ”Just wait till it’s you ‘alf past forty--”

Lena scoffed. “I’m never going to be forty--”

“Lena, please don’t say that.” She looked at his face, darkly serious, “Dangerous work, and I know that, know it better than most, but I lie awake nights quite enough without ‘aving your morbid premonitions about your own demise, love. Lost your mum, lost me sister, so could you please, as a personal favor, resolve to outlive your old dad?” 

“I was only ‘aving a go,” Lena tossed the wrench into the box, “Been talking to Parvati, ‘aven’t you? Can’t keep anything a bloody secret in this family, can I? You know, me entire bloody life I’ve been told, “She put her hands on her hips and tossed her head,  “Lena, you fly like someone aiming to be no one’s nan,” and that’s all right, innit, but if I make a bloody joke about it--” 

Bert shoved a clumsily wrapped box at her. “Happy birthday love. Please shut up and tell me you’ll be careful. Lie to me, if you must, though I’d prefer it to be the truth.” 

“I’ll be careful, Dad.” She smiled as she took the package, “Almost forgot it was me birthday.” 

“Ruddy terrible liar, you are.” He sat down on a metal box at the edge of the hangar. “Just ‘ave to keep ‘oping your skill is as good as you seem to think it is.” 

“One day,” she nodded at him a finger under the paper, ready to open it, “I will be the best pilot in the world. Going to work for Overwatch, I am, you just watch.” 

“That’s as may be, love, and I wish you all the luck, but it don’t change me concerns whether you’re wearing a roundel or a...whatever they’d call it. I suppose it’s a roundel of a sort, as well, innit? Well, you understand me.” 

Lena started to open the package. “I understand you’re a nervous old wo--Dad.” 

What she held in her hand was not, as a rule, very impressive. A small pair of aviators, rose gold on the frames, a few stray scratches across the lenses. You might have found them in a bin at any charity shop, a few pounds for the pair of them. 

“You won’t want to use them for flying, of course, too beat up for that safely, not made for the sort of acrobatics you get up besides, but I thought you should ‘ave them.” He chuckled, “What good are they doing me?” 

Lena turned them over in her hand. For as long as she could remember, this pair of sunglasses had sat on the one of the shelves in her house, next to a photo of her mother and father in their flight suits from the crisis. Lena looked back to him. 

“You sure?” 

“Didn’t want to give you ‘er jacket, as you should ‘ave your own, right? Course anything of ‘ers you want is yours, far as I’m concerned, so you can ‘ave it as well, but--”he smiled sadly, ‘She would be so proud of you. You’re a brilliant pilot, Lena, really you are. You are the best daughter we could ‘ave ‘oped for. ‘Appy birthday, love.” 

She sat down next to him, still looking at the glasses. “I’ll outlive you, promise.” 

He shook his head. “Don’t think about it in the air. Makes you a poor pilot, given what we do. Can’t think about who’s waiting for you on the ground. You know that.” He chuckled. ‘I should know that.” He grinned and slapped her knee, “I do ‘ave presents for you beyond some of your mum’s old rubbish. Eighteen! Properly an adult. Be wanting a place of your own soon, I’m sure.” 

She saw her reflection in the glasses. Eighteen years felt like so many. Forty would be twenty two more. What was a year, here and there, whatever her father said about it?

“Not if don’t you want me to go.” She smiled. “Moving’s a chore, only coming ‘ome every so often any’ow. If you’ll ‘ave me.” 

“As long as you’d like.” 

When she was older, sometimes Lena would wonder what might have happened if she’d gotten married while her father was alive. If  they simply would have swapped bedrooms and kept on with the easy rhythm of their domestic arrangement. The older she got, the more pleasant it sounded to her. But of course, they would never know, because Lena kept her promise, though Bert never got to know that. Life has a dark sense of humor that way. 

She remembered that promise, in the shifting static of time. How it had been her birthday, but her father’s wish. How, at the time, eighteen had seemed like so many years. 

So many.