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tomurasprincess · 4 years

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If Only (Shigaraki x Reader)

Summary: Tomura Shigaraki meets a young woman at a local convention that leaves an impression on him and has him wondering: could he really have a normal life with her, or is his life destined to be nothing but destruction?

Pairing: Shigaraki x Reader Rating: G. Warnings: Angst, manga spoilers for Shigaraki’s backstory. Word Count: 3.5k+ Note: My entry for the BNHarem Discord collab! Yes, this is a SFW one, and yes I did enter it. It was a bit of a challenge for me to write but I like how it turned out! The full masterlist can be found here, so make sure you check out the fics from all of the talented writers!

Tomura Shigaraki decided this was a mistake within the first ten minutes of entering the convention center. Furthermore, he had decided to correct this mistake within the first fifteen, leaving without the thing he went to the convention for in the first place. The entire hall was too loud, too noisy, too full of people. The atmosphere was stifling, the air conditioners running at full blast still not being enough to cool down such an enormous space with so many people crammed in at once.

But one thing happened that made him change his plans. He ran into someone. Literally. As he is turning a corner, trying to find an area that was not packed full of people so that he could catch his breath, he runs directly into someone. The sudden collision takes you by surprise as you barely right yourself from toppling over.

As you gather your bearings, Shigaraki finds himself taking the opportunity to study your outfit. You are cosplaying as a character from a video game series that he is a big fan of, the costume remarkably true to the character herself. He finds himself appreciative of your attention to detail and the level of work you must have put into the cosplay.. But annoyance bubbles up inside of him as he sees that you ran into him because you weren’t paying a bit of attention to where you were going, choosing to stare at your phone instead.

“How about you watch where you’re going?” He sneers at you, giving the glare that usually gets people to back down immediately. But he is mildly surprised when he sees you are not intimidated by his presence, choosing instead to give him a bright smile.

“Sorry, but I am so close to beating this level! Didn’t want to put it down.”

He blinks at your response before leaning around to glance at your phone. You’re playing a popular mobile RPG on a particularly difficult level. He knows this because he plays the same game, and even he had a hell of a time beating it.

You curse under your breath as you lose, putting up a good fight but ultimately being overwhelmed by the third phase of the boss. When you look up at him to see him staring at you, you blush and quickly glance away. Huh, he thinks, that’s new. You’re not afraid of him, not disgusted by his appearance like others.

“The third phase is the hardest,” he finally ventures as he points to a few skills and characters on your screen. “Try using those instead.”

Your face turns serious as you revise your setup, restarting the level and playing through it again. You are so focused on your game that you don't even notice Shigaraki watching you like you are something new and unique. He tears his eyes away long enough to start watching your screen as you enter the third phase, utilizing the characters and skills he told you about with a decent amount of skill.

When you finally beat the level, you do a happy fist pump and a squeal before moving towards him. He tenses, anticipating an attack and ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice. But when he feels arms wrapping around his neck, he freezes completely.

This is new territory for him. The only way people touch him is with malice as they try to kill him, as they try to harm him. Not with kindness or gratitude. He’s still trying to process it as it ends with you pulling away with a big smile on your face. He finds himself wanting to help you again in some way so that he can experience the feeling of being hugged again.

“Thank you, I’ve been trying to beat that level all day!”

“It’s no big deal.” He shuffles a bit in place before scratching at his neck.

“Well I appreciate it anyway. I was on my way to lunch when we bumped into each other. Do you want to go with me?”

“You can stop mocking me,” he narrows his eyes at you. “I don’t appreciate it.” Nobody is this nice, he thinks, you must be making fun of him somehow. His fingers itch to wrap around your neck, to kill you for this offense against him.

He expects you to finally be afraid, to stop talking to him and leave him to his solitude again. But instead, you furiously shake your head. “Oh no, not mocking you at all!” You bite your lip and fidget with your costume. “I just think you seem cool, is all. My friends make fun of me for liking games, and they definitely don’t help me beat levels.”

This time, the rage he feels is directed at anyone who would make fun of this woman in front of her. He’s shocked by this realization, and at the fact that he really does want to talk more. To get to know the one person who doesn’t seem to be bothered by him. He glances down at his shoes as he mumbles an apology, not knowing what else to say.

“Well there’s only one way to make it up to me.” Of course you want something. Nobody ever wants him for him, only what he can do for them. He was stupid for thinking anyone could be different, that -

“You gotta take me to lunch,” you happily explain. “It’ll be my treat!”

He gives you a slow blink, staring as if trying to process your words. Someone wants to spend time with him? Voluntarily, simply because they seem to like him? He didn’t expect anything like this, and yet there doesn’t seem to be any deception from you. You’re simply standing there as you wait for his answer with a hopeful look on your face.

“I, I guess that’s fine,” he agrees hesitantly, “I still have some time before the thing I want starts.”

You instantly light up as you hear his agreement. “What is it that you’re waiting for?” You ask as you begin to lead the way to the dining hall. “Maybe we could go together?”

“Oh, it’s the big event for Cyberpunk 2077. Been waiting for that game for years and since I was in the area, I thought I’d stop by.”

“Oh god, I am so excited for that one. The character customization alone is going to take me hours.”

He chuckles at that, your sheer excitement for everything shining through as you discuss the details of the game together while walking to the dining area. True to your word, you happily pay as you finally choose a place to eat, and the two of you settle in to continue to talk about games. He finds himself really enjoying talking to you. You are so innocent compared to what he’s used to, so carefree and eager to talk about things you enjoy.

“You know, I was wondering something. Why are you here alone?”

Your face falls at that statement as you glance away from him. It was the first time he saw such a sad look on your face, and he finds himself almost mad at being the one who caused that look, even if it was indirectly.

“Ah, I was supposed to be here with a few friends.”

He waits for you to finish your sentence, but you trail off and say nothing. “And? Where are they?”

“They - they had to cancel. But it’s totally okay!” You wave your hands quickly as you try to change the subject. But Shigaraki is not about to have it.

“They abandoned you,” he states flatly.

“Abandoned is a strong word,” you hedge. “They said they just had other things to do. It really is okay.”

His eyes narrow at the last part. He knows a lie when he hears one, and this is the first that he’s noticed since he started talking to you.

“They didn’t just have other things to do, did they?”

You glance anywhere but at his face, willing him to not ask any more questions. But now his curiosity has peaked, and he repeats the question.

“Okay, fine,” you give a long drawn out sigh. “They were supposed to be here today, cosplaying with me. All of us as a character from the group, you know?”

He nods his head as he internally realizes where this is going, the very thought making his blood boil.

“But well, they - they said,” your voice wavers just a bit, “they said this morning that they had better things to do and cancelled. It’s okay, really.”

But he is perceptive enough to realize that it’s not okay. The look in your eyes says you’re hurt, but you’re also used to it. You simply accept being abandoned by your friends as a thing that happens. He knows the look of defeat and rejection in your eyes very well. After all, he sees it every day in the mirror.

“That’s why I asked you to join me for lunch, you know.”

He gives you a questioning look as his thoughts race to figure out what you mean. Do you mean that you invited him to lunch just so you wouldn’t be alone? That thought hurts, for some reason that he couldn’t explain.

“You’re alone too, aren’t you?” You look him directly in his crimson eyes and hold his gaze. He knows on some instinctive level that you don’t just mean at this convention. You’re more perceptive than you initially give off, he realizes suddenly.

He finally nods his head. “I have a few people who support me, but -”

“But you don’t have your person yet, do you?”

This question confuses him, and he waits for you to elaborate on it.

“You know, your person!” Your voice is back to a slightly happier tone, and he’s glad to hear it. “That one person you really connect with, who you would do anything for.”

“That is a rather naive concept,” he says automatically, without considering what he’s saying. But you don’t seem phased by his slightly rude comment.

“Naive, maybe. But I think it’s true. That you just connect with people sometimes.”

He must have inadvertently started frowning at your words, because you give him an adorable pout. “Don’t give me that look,” you playfully reprimand him as you give him a light poke to the forehead.

He gawks at you in sheer surprise for several moments, leaving you to giggle at his expression. He has never had anyone touch him as casually as you do. Instead of making him uncomfortable, however, it makes him feel strangely warm.

It’s then that he hears an announcement come over the convention hall speakers, informing everyone that the keynote presentation for Cyberpunk 2077 is about to begin in 10 minutes. He glances at you, waiting to see your reaction.

“There’s your cue, right? Go have fun!” You give him a smile that appears forced, as if you don’t want him to leave but are holding yourself back from saying so.

“I mean, you could come with me,” he murmurs, “I guess I wouldn’t mind you tagging along.”

“Ah, I don’t have a ticket for that part. Couldn’t afford it. But go ahead, I wouldn’t want you to miss it on my behalf.” You stand up from the table as you turn to leave. Before he realizes what he’s doing, he’s grabbing your arm and gently pulling you back towards him. You stare up at him with both surprise and hope in your eyes as he tucks you into his body, wrapping his arms around you. You feel stiff for only one second before you link your arms around him as well, burrowing your face against his chest with a contented sigh.

You stay there for what feels like hours, neither of you wanting to part. But when you finally do, it is with reluctance on both your parts. “Hey, one last thing before I go,” he begins, “I just wanted to let you know that I really wish -” He is interrupted when another announcement blares over the speaker, warning of 10 minutes left until the presentation. Your face turns to one of disappointment as he shrugs off what he was about to say. “I have to go, bye.”

He turns on his heel as he quickly leaves, trying not to remember the look on your face as you wondered what he was about to say. In truth, even he’s not sure of it. He doesn’t know how to feel about you, about his feelings. But he does know one thing. He liked you, liked talking to you. He thinks he’d like to get to know you more. Could someone like him, a villain who destroys everything he touches, really have someone like you, someone kind and upbeat?

Probably best that he doesn’t answer that question, even to himself.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

The presentation finally ends, crowds of people filtering suddenly out of the biggest convention hall on the property. The crowd is finally starting to bother him, too many people pushing against him, and he is eager to finally leave when he hears the sound of crashing glass and screams. His head turns in the direction of the commotion, vowing to leave, when he hears his name being mentioned and something else that makes his blood turn cold. Your voice, saying something with sheer terror in it.

He’s moving before he’s even aware of it, racing around the corner and pushing people aside to get to you immediately. When he finally makes it to you, his vision almost goes red with the sheer rage that he is feeling at what he sees in front of him. You’re laying on the ground with minor cuts and bruises from broken glass and two heroes in costume standing over you.

“Where is Tomura Shigaraki?”

“I don’t know!”

“Yes you do, we have witnesses saying you were eating with him earlier.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I ate alone.”

He is shocked at the fact that you, of all people, are lying to heroes. To protect him, even though you must realize who he truly is at this point. He doesn’t understand why he feels he has to do something to prevent these heroes from hurting you. Only that he does.

“If it’s me you want, I’m right here.” They whirl around instantly to attack him, but he’s ready for that. These are heroes who have no business hunting down a villain such as him, and he disposes of one of them instantly, knocking him completely out before turning away to meet the other one.

But fear floods his veins as he sees the hero has lifted you up and is holding you by your neck. You look at him with wide, tear filled eyes, as if asking him to save you.

“She has nothing to do with this,” he hisses at the hero, “leave her alone and deal with me.”

“You mean to tell me that someone like her willingly spent time with you, not knowing who you are? I don’t believe that at all.” The words cause Shigaraki to almost physically recoil, but he holds it back as he glares at the hero.

“Jet let her go.”

“Do you happen to care about her? I didn’t think you could care.” He narrows his eyes at Shigaraki. “Just turn yourself in and she doesn’t have to get hurt.”

At these words, rage unlike anything Shigaraki has ever felt fills him, and before he can even think of what he’s doing, he’s grabbing the hero with all of his fingers, tossing him away as he grabs for you.

“You saved me,” you mumble quietly as you look up at him, tracing a finger down his face tenderly.

He puts you down just a shade too quickly, causing you to lean against the wall for support. “I did not save you, you were just here.”

“No, I saw you. You were going in the opposite direction when you heard me. You came back for me.”

“Why were you even in this area to begin with? You said you didn’t have the ticket to be here.”

You glance away from his harsh tone, but your cheeks look flushed. “I went ahead and bought one. So that I could see you again.”

The wind is taken from his lungs as he realizes that you were here waiting for him. You were injured because you were waiting for him. You’re too vulnerable, too weak, not able to defend yourself. Everything in him rebels in what he’s about to do, but he has to. He squeezes his eyes shut as he realises this is it. This is his answer to the question of whether someone like him could have someone like you.

“Yeah? Well I sure as hell didn’t want to see you again.”

Your eyes go wide as you shake your head. “You’re - you’re lying. You wanted to say something to me before you left. It was that you wanted to see me again, right?”

He lets his expression grow cold. “No. I decided to be nice and not tell you how much I hate you. How much I wanted to leave so that I didn’t have to spend a moment longer with you.”

“You’re only saying these mean things because you want to push me away.” Tears run down your face as you try to deny his words. “But I won’t let that happen. I care about you!”

“You don’t even know me,” he snarls, “I could kill you in an instant and would think nothing of it.”

You let out a small gasp as you continue to try and deny his words. “No, you’re lying, you don’t mean any of these things. You didn’t have to save me but you did.”

“Maybe it’s because I wanted to fight them. Wanted to kill them.”

“But you didn’t! They’re still alive. You’re a good guy, you just -”

He growls at you as he steps aside, pointing backwards to something on the floor. You stare in incomprehension, trying to figure out what you see. When you glance back up at him, he knows you realize what happened. But he also sees the desperate need you have to deny it.

“Fine, I’ll show you the truth.” He wraps his hand all the way around the unconscious hero’s leg, watching your reaction closely. You begin to tremble, not looking at him but at what is happening to what used to be a man.

Ah, he thinks, there it finally is. The look he’s been expecting to see since the moment he met you. The fear. The disgust. The hatred. It’s written all over your face, all the expressions that he never wanted to see.

“Why,” you whisper as tears run down your cheeks. “They didn’t have to die, there was no reason for it.”

“I told you. Because I wanted to. And I could kill you just as easily, if you don’t get the fuck out of here right now.”

“But I love you!” You blurt the words out suddenly, and he feels the whole world collapse around him. No no no, this was not supposed to happen. He lunges at you, pressing your back against the wall as he raises a finger up over your skin.

“Yeah? Well I don’t love you. You’re useless and annoying, and it’s no wonder your friends abandoned you. Keep your worthless love.”

“No,” you choke back a sob as you pull away from him completely, an action that he allows with reluctance. Even in these circumstances, he doesn’t want to let you go. But he waits for the words that he knows he’ll hear from you. To be called a monster, less than a person, nothing but a being of chaos and destruction who lives only to destroy.

“Well you still have it,” you sob, “you need it more than I do.” And with that, he watches as you take slow steps away from him, and he watches as you turn away and flee. Running out of his life for good.

It had to be this way, he tries to convince himself. There was no other way. Someone so innocent, so kind, would never make it in his world. If she couldn’t handle what she saw just now, there was no chance.

But your final words keep echoing in his head, refusing to leave. So he briefly allows himself to consider the possibilities, as he wipes away a tear that he pretends was never there at all.

If only his quirk hadn’t activated as it did, killing the few people in this world who cared about him. If only he hadn’t committed his first murder shortly after that, killing his own father. If only he hadn’t been taken by All for One, manipulated and molded into a weapon of nothing but destruction and decay. If only, if only, if only. So many places where things could have been different, where he could have had a life where he was loved. But he knows, deep in his heart, the only “if only” that truly matters.

The one that, if true, would change everything, make everything in his life be okay again. Allow him to have love and a life worth living for instead of worth dying for.

If only he were still Tenko Shimura.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Tags: @thewheezingwyvern, @animewh0re, @dee-madwriter, @ttamaki, @lildreamer93, @yaoyorozuwrites, @redbeanteax, @kittygonyan, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love, @daedaep69, @heyybrittannia, @groovydreamertrash, @hisoknen, @chou-maitresse, @shoutogepi, @togasknifes, @kingtamakimurder, @1-800-callmekatsuki, @league-of-thots, @ichor-and-symbiosis

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnharem collab

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croctears · 3 years

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a part two to this maybe? dk, again this is unedited and i’m trying my hand at a more flowery language. hopefully it isn’t too flowery lolol.

the cultural terms are further explained at the bottom.

Envy, with its tendrils green with jealousy, wraps itself snug around our little beating heart. Yet we continue to let it consume us, basking and boasting in the covetous desires. And again, do we have the capacity to ingest the wants of the human soul?

“They’re so pretty!”

Cherry blossom petals frolicked to the lilt of the wind in merry pink blushes, kissing the tips of her fingers. They slipped by cheekily, never getting caught, leaving only the tickle of velvet left as the aftertaste. Hsien-Chen sighed. It was the first spring since they moved to the capital; the flowers here are different from the ones in the countryside.

Her little sister ran ahead, giggling in glee. Two small buns sat atop her head, thin hair pulled tightly in a clean, smooth updo. The smile stretching across her face was far wider than any of Hsien-Chen’s when she was that age—not that she could remember ever being this carefree. After one fateful meeting with a messenger of Death ( her mother sobbed over her for days, thanking the Heavens and Yánluówáng for being merciful and not taking her daughter away), Hsien-Chen became a silent child.

According to Mama, she’d met Heibai Wuchang, more specifically the white counterpart of the duo; Xiè Bì'ān, the White Guard.

“No, you’re mistaken,” Her mother had shaken her head, frowning at Hsien-Chen’s recounting of the event. “That’s not a woman, and you’re lucky you didn’t meet Fàn Wújiù instead.”

Was she supposed to be grateful? Grateful that the White Guard, Xie, had taught her to make amends and become a better version of whoever she was going to grow up as?

She should be thankful for an opportunity many hadn't had the chance to get.

But why is it still so difficult to be angelic?

Round and round it goes, slippery and thick—soft as the finest silk in China, lithe as the strings of guzheng. Round and round envy goes, around the souls of men. Do we not notice it, or do we take no notice of it?

Hsien-Chen swallowed a lump of saliva lodging in the ridges of her throat. Her hands shook, palms sticky with sweat. Tucking the piece of parchment into the elaborated pieces of her robes, she hurried across the study room, sock-covered feet making no noise against the smooth wooden paneling.

She couldn’t believe she was going to cheat.

On a national exam, no less.

Pinpricks of moisture dotted her forehead, satin clothes sticking to her underarms. Hsien-Chen shook her head firmly.

No, it’s not her fault she’s always second to that Luo family’s brat. They are better off than her parents, providing him with more possibilities and renowned tutors when she only had herself to depend on. Was it wrong to sneak in answers she already read through? It was merely referencing.

Tighter and tighter, over the limbs and minds. Tighter and tighter envy’s fingers gripped our souls, dragging down, down, down. Tight was the constraints, yet our eyes were still clouded with discontent.

“Did you hear? The daughter of the Wang family had four wedding proposals today! One of them is a son of a businessman.” Hsien-Chen’s companion exhaled dreamily. “She’s beautiful, it’s no wonder!”

Hsien-Chen snorted, wringing her arm out of her friend’s hold.

“She’s your neighbour, isn’t she? The Wangs’ young miss.” Her friend asked. An innocent question that made her blood boil to a degree she never knew was possible.

Oh, how Hsien-Chen hated that girl next door. Always adorned with bracelets, necklaces. On her dainty feet always a pair of expensive embroidered shoes, no less than a noblewoman’s. And as if her being spoiled wasn’t enough, the girl was born with such elegant features, big brown eyes, small upturned nose with pink lips.

Oh, how Hsien-Chen hated her. They’re the same age, but Wang Jing appeared to be on a whole other level. And she knew, no matter how hard she tries, she’ll never reach that league. Her chest tightened, breaths coming in short angry heaves.

“She’s fooling around with their gardener’s son.” Hsien-Chen blurted without thinking. Whether it was true or not was up to the discernment of those who heard.

“What?” A handkerchief covered her friend’s face, widened eyes barely containing the disgust and excitement at the unexpected news. “That’s so wrong! Such a disgrace. Don’t you think people should know about this?”

Hsien-Chen shrugged. “Do what you will.”

Deeper and deeper envy hauls men, smooth and gracious through the waves. Deeper and deeper our beings go, into the sea of envy’s poison. Can we swim, or are we nonchalant with our foreboding demise?

“I wish I never had you!” Hsien-Chen screamed, clutching her head. Hysterics enveloped her, lashing out at the crying boy. Her son. Her older daughter held him protectively, hand rubbing furiously at her tear-streaked face.

A raised hand. A sharp smack. The boy wailed, clutching his red face.

“Mama, stop!”

“You too! I hope you die along with your good-for-nothing father!”

The vase broke, shards flying as Hsien-Chen swept more decorations off the shelves. Her children cried louder and louder and—

“Stop crying! I’m leaving. I’m leaving! I deserve better than this life!”

The slam of the door silenced the young ones for a moment and Hsien-Chen could feel the cogs of her brain turning again. Children were noisy, or her children were noisy. Lan’s kids were docile beings, same goes for Yi’s twin boys. Filial, gentle souls, unlike hers.

How she despised her children, her simpleton husband.

How she despised her life.

The back room was serene enough for her to collect her thoughts, a tired groan escaping her chapped lips as she sank down to the dusty floor.

Despair. That was the word for what she was feeling.

Despair, resentment, bitterness.

Envy.

“I’m better off dead.”

“Sure you are.”

“Who are you?” She whipped around in shock, clutching her heart. In front of her was a man, young and tall. He had an air of masculine handsomeness, the kind you normally feel around young warriors or generals. An austere smile danced on his thin lips, bulging biceps placing down a heavy-looking mirror in front of her.

“Who are you?” She repeated.

“I believe a mirror was supposed to be delivered here.”

“I believe not.” Hsien-Chen crossed her arms, shooting him her best scowl.

“Are you sure?”

He pulled the cloth off, and the mirror. The mirror was…

The mirror was the exact same one. The one she saw in the storeroom of the old couple her mother worked for. The same mirror Xiè Bì'ān showed her future.

“No,” Hsien-Chen shuddered, backing away from him. “Is this a joke to you?”

“You’ve met my partner, I believe. Xiè Bì'ān.” The man was grim, unsmiling. “I too should believe you know who I am.”

“Fàn Wújiù?” It came out a frightened squeak, quivering with dense fear.

“My partner has a kind soul. Me? Not so much.” The Black Guard of the Heibai Wuchang muttered. “He did warn you many years ago. That was your chance.”

Hsien-Chen fell to her knees. “But my family…”

He laughed scornfully. “Weren’t you wishing they were dead a few minutes ago?”

“Please sir! Please just—,” Hsien-Chen felt tongue-tied. What was she even begging for? A second shot at life? She already knew an opportunity like that, an opportunity many hadn’t had a chance to get would be better off not given to her.

She’d already wasted the first one.

“Is your- is your friend here?”

The Black Guard was stern, but nodded. “Outside.”

And true enough, the White Guard was standing there, hands behind his back. He had seemed like a woman to five-year-old Hsien-Chen, but now, she saw clearly he was a man. Albeit slender with delicate features, his elegant stance was somber once he spotted her.

Hsien-Chen was mildly surprised that he was taller than the other guard.

“It’s your time now child.”

“I know.” Hsien-Chen wrung her hands nervously. “I think I just want to say I’m sorry.”

“For?”

“For wasting your time. You could’ve gone to another child. Maybe they’d listen to you.”

Xiè Bì'ān brushed back his hair. “It was fate. There’s nothing to be done now. Don’t fret.”

Her lips parted, then she closed it again. She could see Manchurian cranes against the orange-daubed skies, fishermen’s songs loud enough for her to hear.

Her husband must be coming home any moment now.

“What would I be if I had listened to you then?” She turned to face the white-clad man, but he refused to answer.

“You have to come now.”

“I guess we are arresting you right now.” Fàn Wújiù nodded to his partner.

Hsien-Chen stretched out her hand, hoping to feel the plush texture of the cherry blossom once more.

“I guess this is it.”

So indeed, the waves roll, swallowing the cries of regret and frantic yelps of realisation. For it is too late if we notice at the brink of death, now may we rest well in the icy comfort of envy’s clasp.

first off, this story takes place during the qing dynasty, after the imperial examinations were passed for women.

i'm personally not taoist, but had derived lots of taoist myths as inspiration! partly bc i'd grown up listening to these stories (: i hope you learn a thing or two about Chinese culture, though my version in this story is definitely tweaked.

Heibai Wuchang is "Black and White Impermanence" literally, and are deities in Chinese folk religion that escorts souls to the underworld. grim reaper, if you may. the white counterpart is Xie Bi'an while the black counterpart is Fan Wujiu.

as for Yánluówáng, he's the king of the taoist underworld. the mirror that is referenced in my previous story, Mirror of Retribution is a mirror used by the Yánluówáng to judge dead souls when dealing out punishments.

#writing #writing community #writeblr #writers community #writer #ayo im struggling so hard with this istg #i cant get the words to flow bc guess what #yeah ive been coding for the past month and all i can think of are python string commands #一croctalks #一crocwrites

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phcking-detective · 4 years

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Not Alone

Nines decides if he gets put on hold one more time, he's violating the Geneva Convention.

"Hello, are you still there?"

"Yes."

The PACU nurse audibly sighs in disappointment. "I spoke with our Chief of Staff, and he has given me permission to reiterate to you that a work partner does not count as family. Our policy is—"

Nines involuntarily reviews the Post Anesthesia Care Unit's visitation policy for the sixty-seventh time.

Visitation in the PACU is at the discretion of the nurse and physician caring for you and varies depending upon your procedure. Once the nurse taking care of you is happy with your vital signs and other post surgical requirements, they will contact the waiting area and will let your family member see you. Our policy at this time is legal family members only.

Which is a currently-still-legal method of barring androids.

Never mind that this policy also has significant human collateral damage: adoptees, divorcees, mixed race families …

The end result is that Nines cannot produce a marriage certificate and he obviously is not related by blood, so no one will be there to greet Gavin when he wakes up from his surgery.

And that is unacceptable. The detective has enough abandonment issues already.

Connor cannot hear the internal phone call Nines is engaged in, but he has a social module and must somehow be reading the results from his body language or facial expression.

"Hank could pretend to be his dad," he offers.

The PACU nurse is still reading the visitation policy in full. She's clearly determined to make this as difficult as possible, and showing up with a random human male with pale skin and fair hair who shares nothing in common with Gavin's olive skin tone, dark hair, or facial features is not going to cut it.

Nines searches through every single scan and PDF of paperwork Detective Gavin Reed has ever submitted to the DPD. Finally, all the way back to carry-over paperwork from the police academy he attended, Nines discovers a phone number he's never seen before listed as Gavin's emergency contact.

And it says brother.

Nines uses the phone at Gavin's desk to call this number without mentally disconnecting from the PACU nurse. Normally, he would be more than capable of processing infinite phone calls, but he does not have a social module and his stress levels are climbing into the high eightieth percentile.

"Gav, you better be dying because otherwise—"

"Is that Elijah Kamski?" Connor blurts out in the middle of the precinct.

"—just fucking text me, bro."

"Well shit," Hank says. "Talk about can I speak to a manager. You think he'd be willing to fix—"

Nines holds up a hand. He does not have a social module and cannot possibly process three conversations at once.

"You are listed as Detective Reed's emergency contact," he says into the phone.

"Is he hurt or dead?" Kamski immediately asks.

Nines cannot reply for nearly a full second. He spent three seconds thinking his partner was dead. It was not enough for Detective Gavin Alexander Reed to merely get shot, no. He also had to fall off the roof of a building, and the impact from the landing was enough to briefly stop his heart, which registered to Nines's scanners that—

"Hurt. Surgery." That is all he can say at first. "Successful. He is out of intensive care and has been transferred to the PACU."

In the background, Nines can still hear the others in the bullpen gossiping. He did not mean to make Gavin's familial relationship public. He assumed the phone number for one "Eli Reed" would simply be a regular, non-famous human of no particular importance except to get someone into the hospital to reassure Gavin he is not alone.

"What does he need now?" Kamski asks. "Will he be released soon and need a ride or in-home monitoring?"

Those are [logical] questions. Nines supposes he should not have expected anything less from the man who is technically his creator. Even if he only wrote the code and was not personally involved in the android's construction or testing phase.

"I have already made those arrangements during his surgery," Nines reports. "His apartment is prepped for his return, and my lieutenant has put together a … care package."

"Is that the old guy, husky, beard? With that Connor I liked?"

Across the bullpen, Connor's advanced hearing picks that up, and he visibly preens. Nines practices making a facial expression by sneering and rolling his eyes at him.

"Yes."

"OK, cool," Kamski says. "So, do you need me to cover the cost of surgery or is he asking for me …?"

"I have been unable to contact Detective Reed," Nines admits. "The hospital's visitation policy specifies 'legal' family members only as a method of anti-android discrimination. You are the only family member I have been able to locate."

If you do not visit him, he will be alone.

Nines cannot say this dialogue option. He cannot—refuses to—preconstruct how [bad] it will be if Gavin wakes up alone. His human has a deep, psychological fear of being abandoned, and even if Nines is able to see him immediately upon release and explain the situation, the emotional damage will have already been done.

"Yeah, our parents are dicks, and he doesn't want any famous media bullshit, so we keep the half-brothers thing on the downlow," Kamski says. "Do you need me to be your way in?"

"Yes," Nines says, almost before he finishes offering.

"I'm just kind of assuming here that you're his partner, and he'll want to see you, right?"

"As I am assuming that he accepts you as his brother, and he will want to see you."

Kamski snorts. "I told them stripping out your social module wouldn't stop the deviant problem—or make you any less sassy. That's an inherent RK feature."

"Should I meet you at the hospital," Nines asks.

As much as he may be [curious] about his creator in another situation, this is not another situation. And the situation at hand requires getting to his partner's location immediately.

"Yeah, just send me the address and let me do the talking. See you there."

As soon as he hangs up, Nines is bombarded with [questions] from Connor, Miller, and Collins. Thankfully, Hank stands up and makes a pushing-hands motion to signal to them to be quiet.

"I know we're all real fucking shooketh about this," he says, like the millennial dinosaur he is. "But we can save all the questions and gossip for after Reed gets out of the hospital, all right?"

The humans both grumble, but they let it go. Even Connor stops and sits back down at his own desk.

Hank turns back to Nines. "I'll text Tina and let her know what's up. You just go get your man, kid."

Connor visibly restrains himself from commenting on what an apt descriptor "man-kid" is for Gavin. At least, that's what Nines assumes, considering it is the commentary he himself would normally make.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," he says instead.

He turns and leaves before the "goodbyes" can take any longer. Either whatever Kamski plans will work or … Well. He is the most advanced military android model ever created.

Nothing will keep him from his partner.

***

By the time Nines arrives at the hospital, Kamski is already utilizing his social module. And billions of dollars. The Chief of Staff [Thomas Carrado, unmarried, no arrest record] would wouldn't deign to speak to Nines over the phone is now vigorously shaking Kamski's hand while thanking him for his "generous donation."

"—also, I'm sure you'll want to see your brother too."

"Yes, and—" Kamski turns and [smiles] at Nines. "Ah, my assistant is here. What room should we go to?"

Carrado's own smile freezes on his face when he sees Nines. Even without the LED, there couldn't be any mistaking the android for what he is.

Kamski keeps smiling as well, the sort Connor does when he's about to verbally destroy someone.

"Right this way, Mr. Kamski," Carrado says.

The Chief of Staff turns on his heel without any acknowledgement that Nines follows them. In turn, Nines also does not acknowledge the glances Kamski keeps making at him. His vision is just as accurate in his "peripherals" as it is directly in front of him, so he has no need to turn his head or rotate his optical units to observe the human in turn.

Gavin's [brother].

"—in the nation, but with your esteemed patronage, I'm sure we can rise to first. And of course Mr. Reed will—"

"Detective," Nines corrects.

"—receive the best—"

"Detective."

"—care possible here—"

"Detective."

"—while—"

"Detective."

Carrado stops and whirls around. "Is your … assistant … experiencing a malfunction, Mr. Kamski?"

"No," Nines answers for himself. "You will refer to Detective Reed by his title."

"Oh, is he still pissy about that?" Kamski asks before Carrado can respond. "I swear, every single family dinner for a fucking decade, we had to call him Officer, Detective—he'll be insufferable when he finally makes Captain."

Bold of him to assume Gavin isn't insufferable now.

But Nines does not know the state of Gavin's relationship with his brother, and if the lack of contact is due to mistreatment. He will not risk "making fun of" his partner to a toxic family member.

"Will you be staying long?" Carrado asks Kamski.

"Nines, what does my schedule look like today?"

Nines may not have a social module, but Gavin has forced him to sit through watching enough daytime television to be able to parrot simple lines commonly said by ST300s.

"I have rescheduled your meetings and cleared the remainder of your afternoon and evening, Mr. Kamski."

As Gavin would say, [Like hell] he's going to call the billionaire "sir."

"Excellent." Kamski reaches out to shake hands again, and Carrado is forced to reciprocate. "Thank you so much for your assistance, Dr. Carrado. Now, I promise not to take up any more of your valuable time."

"Well, I'm not—"

Kamski gestures down the hallway, still smiling mildly as if he isn't "politely" telling the good Chief of Staff to [fuck off]. He maintains eye contact with the other human until Carrado slinks away.

It seems Gavin and Kamksi share more than just genetics and a similar facial structure then. Although Gavin would have squeezed the other man's hand hard enough to induce pain, and likely told him literally to fuck off as well.

"Well." Kamski claps his hands together once Carrado is gone. "Let's go see my baby brother!"

***

Gavin is dying. He's alone and he's dying. He's dying and he's alooone.

"Detective."

Person? People??

Hands touch him and it's the best thing ever. There's a person here, he has a person, he's not alone. He's not going to die alone because everyone hates him and it's all his fault for being a huge asshole in the first place.

"Please lie down, Detective."

Gavin stops struggling to sit up when he realizes the person is his person. His favorite person. He collapses back down in the bed, which hurts a lot more than it should. Probably because he fell off a fucking building and messed up the whole left side of his body and—oh yeah, also got shot too. That sucks.

It doesn't stop him from whining and making grabby hands—hand? his left arm and leg are both in casts, boo—until Nines bends over at the waist, and Gavin can drag his face close enough for kisses.

"Wooow." His brother says. "This is blackmail material forever, I hope you know that, Gav."

Wait, his brother? Eli??

"I will remove you from the premises," Nines tells him.

Eli scoffs. "My donation got you in here. Nines."

"And there is nothing on this earth that can remove me."

God, his partner is so hot and mean and cool. And he has a mouth! Gavin has a mouth too. They should … look into that. You know. Investigate.

"Hmm, and here I thought you didn't like my 'stupid toys,' bro."

Gavin stops trying to wrestle his mouth against his partner's mouth and looks at his brother, who is also in the same room as his partner, at the same time.

"Oh, shit," he says.

"Uh huh, uh huh." Eli nods and waves his hand in a sideways-circle. "Keep going. Either with an apology, or you can keep it up about how only a loser needs to build an android to have a girlfriend."

"This is different," Gavin says, very seriously while still leaning to the side to keep as much contact between his back and Nines's chest as possible.

Eli scoffs and gestures at the two of them.

"I don't keep him in my basement," Gavin argues.

"I didn't lock Chloe in mine either," Eli snaps back. "She's free to go where she pleases."

"Her and all her clones?"

"Oh, please. If I never invented her, you wouldn't have—"

"—lab is in your basement though, and that's—"

"Gavin," Nines says, voice right next to his ear. "Is your lack of contact with your brother due to this level of typical sibling fighting—"

"We're not fighting," Gavin says. "We're just talking and he's losing."

"You're the one dumb enough to get shot," Eli adds.

Nines straightens up. "Do not mock Detective Reed for being injured in the line of—"

"Whoa, whoa, hey." Gavin pats behind himself with his good hand as much as he's able. "Easy, babe. No combat protocols, OK? He's my brother."

"Hmm," Nines says.

"So he's like, super fucking annoying and all, but no one beats his face in except me." Gavin doesn't even pause before he turns back to Eli, who's already opening his mouth to bring up— "And you only got lucky with the water hose that one time, I can still kick your ass in any other fight."

Eli scowls, but he looks away instead of bringing it up. He still feels guilty about it. Goddamn genius, and he "didn't know" smacking Gavin in the face with the metal end of a water hose would bust his nose open like that.

Dipshit.

"You said you received your facial scar in a bar fight," Nines says.

Eli blinks, looks back over, then bursts out laughing.

"Shut up," Gavin groans. "You weren't supposed to meet like this, it's not fair!"

"How exactly did you plan on us meeting, Detective?" Nines asks.

Gavin keeps his right hand covering as much of his face as it can and doesn't answer. He hadn't really thought about it beyond how much Elijah was going to fucking gloat when he found out. And as much as he loves his partner, Nines is android-brothers with Connor, and they do android-mind-linking, and Connor is a horrible gossip, and Gavin does not need the entire precinct and/or world to know his brother is possibly the most famous man alive, thanks.

They have a whole arrangement about it. Maybe if he wasn't still feeling the effects of so much morphine, he'd be able to articulate that, and how he wants to be absolutely certain his career really advances on his own merit, and maybe even some other stuff about Eli getting way more attention than him and growing up in the shadow of his cooler, smarter, more popular half-brother …

Ugh.

"Ughhh," Gavin groans again.

"And when were you planning on finally texting me, huh?" Eli asks.

Gavin looks up so he can scoff. "You fucking text me, asshole."

Eli inspects his probably-already-perfect nails. "I've been busy."

"So have I!"

"Getting shot?"

Nines interrupts. "That reminds me." He leans down to growl close in Gavin's ear, "You will never do this again."

Gavin swallows back a moan. "Babe, please don't make me horny while my brother is in the room."

Nines rolls his eyes. "There is no other recourse for me to leave then."

He knows his partner is joking. He knows that. But between the morphine and the exhaustion and now the pain in his side slowly seeping back into his body—Gavin grabs onto Nines and clings to him.

Nines immediately bends back down and wraps his arms around him as best he's able. "Shhh. I will not. I am here, and I have you secure. Shhh."

He makes the shushing noises more like a stern librarian than a comforting boyfriend, but it's ironically comforting after all because Gavin knows no one else would literally say "shhh" like it's a word. So this must be his Nines, his boyfriend, his partner.

"Wow, this is really touching."

Gavin lets go just to flip Eli off.

"Can I get in on this snuggle fest? I haven't seen you in what, a fucking year now, and you get your dumbass shot."

Gavin grumbles about it, but he holds out his good arm for Elijah. The dumb asshole comes over and gives him a one-armed hug, careful not to wrap around too far and touch his side. Or his broken left arm. Broken left leg. Goddamn, he really did it this time, huh?

Once they've hugged it out, he pulls back and says, "Since I built your Nines, when he uses his combat protocols to kick your ass for this, that's basically like me kicking your ass."

"No way," Gavin immediately replies. "You haven't been able to kick my ass since we were ten, and don't—god. Don't phcking, say it like he's you about my ass. That's weird, bro."

Eli grins at him. "Oh, so you two are already doing butt stuff, huh? That's pretty serious, like third base."

"Anal is only second," Gavin tells him.

On his other side, Nines blinks red. "Then what … do you consider first?"

"Uh, a blowjob, duh."

"Wait, what's a handjob?" Eli asks.

"Nothing, between friends."

Nines blinks. "Then thank god Tina is not here."

Gavin looks back down at the bed. "I guess she's busy, huh?"

"No," Nines says as if that's reassuring. But he continues, "She is not allowed to see you. The hospital's visitation policy allows for 'legal' family visitors only."

Gavin looks back up at him. "Then how'd you get in?"

Nines scowls. It's one of the few facial expressions he's mastered. "I searched through every form you have ever submitted to the Detroit Police Department, found an emergency contact number listed for your brother from nearly fifteen years ago, called it, spoke to Elijah Kamski, and then pretended to be his assistant."

"But hey," Eli says. "After the amount of money I just donated, I could wheel in a giant birthday cake filled with Traci strippers, so I'm sure I can get Tina in whenever you're ready."

Gavin smiles weakly, but now he's thinking …

"Is that why you weren't there when I woke up?" he asks Nines quietly.

"It is the only reason," Nines assures him. "My next option after calling your emergency contact was to simply walk inside and see what they thought they could do to remove me."

He looks absolutely serious about it too. Gavin's smile breaks out into a grin, just imagining some poor fucking GS200 security guard nervously asking the most advanced military model ever made to p-p-please leave … sir? Wh-whenever you're ready though, no rush!

He gets the giggles, but then that really makes his side hurt. Nines helps him lie back down before he even realizes he's too tired to sit up anymore. He also gets petted through his hair and that's nice, that's sooo nice.

"I'm … love you," he mumbles.

"I know." Nines smooths his hair back one last time and kisses his forehead. "Rest now. You can talk to your brother more when you wake up. We'll both be here."

Gavin still clutches at him though. "And Tina?"

"Yes," Nines says. "And Tina. Hank too, although he will likely bring Connor."

"Ugh, Connor."

"Yes."

A yawn catches him before he can complain any more about that, and having a nap does sound really good right now.

"Eli, tell me what you're working on," he says, blinking repeatedly to try to keep his eyes open. "S'boring."

Elijah takes a seat next to the bed. "You mispronounced boyfriend, but OK."

"He's boring too," Gavin says, but like, in a loving way. "He filed my ta-a-haaaxes."

After that last yawn, he loses the blinking battle. Eli starts explaining something about a new form of titanium, and Nines keeps one hand resting solidly on the center of his chest, so Gavin knows he's there.

They're both right here.

***

this was a commission! my rates are $10 for 1k / $25 for 3k / or $40 for 5k, and you can also check out my patreon for my main reed900 series here ^^

#reed900 #gavin reed #dbh #dbh fic #dbh fanfic #my writing

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songtoyou · 4 years

Text

Mr. Evans and the Congresswoman - Part 2

Paring: Chris Evans x Politician Reader

Rating: PG

Word Count: 1,858

Warnings: Political topics such as Biden, Harris, our current White House occupant and the current administration.

Description: It is the week of the DNC and Chris is once again interviewing you for A Starting Point.

A/N: The DNC inspired me to write a second part for this story. This is pure fiction as I do not know what Chris believes when it comes to politics and policy issues. This is a complete work of fiction.

I do not permit my work to be to be posted on any other site without my permission.

Note: Updated for grammar and punctuation edits.

"Hi, Congresswoman Y/L/N?" Chris Evans asked with a smile.

He was once again interviewing you for ASP. This time it was during the week of the Democratic National Convention. Chris and Mark had already talked to other politicians such as Senator Cory Booker and Representatives Ro Khanna and Alma Adams. You were the last elected official he was slated to interview to wrap up the DNC week.

Truthfully, Chris was happy to get the chance to talk with you again. Your previous interview for ASP was such a hit that it garnered a lot of attention from fans and the media. However, it was not because you helped bring more legitimacy and attention for ASP, but instead, Chris found himself genuinely admiring you.

"Hi," you said to Chris, giving a small wave through the Zoom screen. "I told you to call me by my first name."

"I know, but I still want to show respect," Chris responded with a teasing smile. Was he mildly flirting with the congresswoman? Yes, but he had no shame in doing so. "How are you? You are looking well."

"I am doing well. Thank you. How about you?"

"Same. Just trying to stay sane through everything. I'm actually currently in London. Working on a project." Chris admitted.

"Uh oh. You better be staying safe and following the right procedures and protocols," you lightly reprimanded him.

"My fans ratted me out. They found where I was just by the hotel door. Can you believe that? That is some FBI-level investigating, right there. I'd be impressed if I weren't also terrified of the lengths some of these fans will go to scout my location," Chris ranted. He did not understand why he was sharing this with you, but a part of him felt comfortable doing so.

"That…is quite impressive, I must say. Creepy. Scary. But impressive. You need to learn how to put in a Zoom background. It would solve all of your problems," you suggested to him.

"I would, but I'm technology deficient. Maybe I should look up some Zoom tutorials on how to do it. Give it a try."

"There is no try…only do," you advised cheekily.

"Now you're quoting Yoda. A woman after my own heart," Chris replied. He knew he needed to refocus. "So, as you can tell, Mark won't be joining us for this interview. I'm going to hit record if that is okay?"

"Okay. I'm ready when you are," you said.

When the record notification appeared on screen, Chris introduced you and immediately went into the first question.

"How do you think the DNC is going so far, particularly how this year is more of a virtual setting rather than in-person due to COVID-19?"

"Despite not having the big in-person celebration/gathering, I think the virtual setting is working very well. Better than I expected, actually. It gives off a more inclusive and intimate vibe to the DNC that we haven't felt before. I like the whole documentary approach and feel to it," you replied honestly.

"Were you excited that Joe Biden chose Senator Kamala Harris as his running mate?" asked Chris.

"Oh my God! I was so happy that Vice President Biden chose Senator Harris as his running mate. Like, my staff and I were beyond ecstatic. There is no one better to be Biden's running mate than Harris. She is amazing. Such an inspiration. I'm not going to lie, but I'm really excited for the debate between her and Pence."

That made Chris laugh. "Yeah, me too. Senator Harris really knows how to pull all the punches. Her nomination as VP has been met with overall positive response. The Trump Administration and Republican pundits appear to have a hard time painting a negative image of Harris. Why do you think Trump and Fox News are struggling to provide a negative image for her?"

"That is an excellent question. The public's overwhelming response to Harris' nomination is because 1.) she is the first black and south Asian woman to be on a major presidential ticket, and 2.) she is likable and charming. She has this exuberant energy that attracts people to her. You know, black and brown women and girls finally have someone that looks like them running for the second-highest office in the land. That is huge!

"I also have to wonder if people have smartened up in the last four years and won't tolerate the…hypocrisy, sexism, and misogyny…in this case misogynoir that is thrown towards Senator Harris from the media, political pundits, social media bots, etc. So, what we are seeing with Trump and Fox News struggling to attack her is because…well…they just aren't smart. All we have seen from Trump in his attacks against her is that she was mean to Kavanaugh when questioning him during his nomination process. But none of what Trump says holds up because we all know that smart, confident women intimidate him," you finished off your point.

"There is also the left…or more of the progressive left who are unhappy with Biden choosing Harris," Chris spoke up and continued, "They say she is a cop and put people away for weed. That she took kids away from parents when the kid didn't show up for school. That Harris is too conservative. What do you say to that?"

"All of that is…you know…. Senator Harris one of the most policy progressive senators we have. Her voting record is more progressive than Bernie Sanders. All people have to do is research her time as a district attorney and Attorney General for California to find out what she actually did concerning policy. But as we both know, people nowadays don't know how to critically think, which scares me. Progressives need to look at the overall big picture. This election in November is crucial. We are in the fight for our democracy, for our country, and for our lives…literally."

"I talk with my brother, Scott, all the time about certain political issues," mentioned Chris. "He is a tad more progressive than I am. I can admit that I tend to be more centrist. The district you represent is a mix of blue and red areas; how do you balance opposing views from your constituents?"

You took in a deep breath before you answered. That was a loaded question. Representing a district that was not solely red, or blue could be difficult from time to time. You wanted to be respectful of the different viewpoints from constituents, but maintaining a neutral balance was hard and frustrating at times.

"The majority of Americans are centrist/moderates. You need a balance of both liberal and conservative policies. Bipartisanship is crucially important when developing and passing laws. We are currently seeing an overt of one-sidedness while sabotaging the other side, which is detrimental to our country's growth. It is important to reach across the aisle to talk with those who may have opposing views than you. At the end of the day, people just want to feel that their concerns are heard and valued. We all want to feel that way. So, as an elected official, I make sure to take the time to talk with those in rural areas, along with urban areas, about their issues and concerns," you shared.

"Do you ever get any pushback from Trump supporters in the red areas?" Chris inquired.

"Well, it is important to note that not all residents in rural areas are Trump supporters. They just tend to keep that to themselves. I have actually talked to Trump supporters in blue areas. We can never and should never assume that one area has this type of person and vice versa. I learned that the hard way when I was campaigning for city council early in my career," you revealed to Chris with a small chuckle. "But overall, my constituents will talk with me and have been respectful. Some of the concerns that have been shared with me do fall under the QAnon conspiracy theories, which do disturb me, I'll be honest. Um…when being confronted with someone who has that extreme of ideals, it is important to remain calm and not to come off combative. Meaning that I have to remind myself that I am not quite dealing with a rational person. The only thing that I can do is calmly talk to the person and respond back with facts. Either they listen or brush me off and call me a radical lefty."

"The majority of people are good, like you said," Chris reminded you.

"That's right. It's a good mantra to live by. I think the American people are tired and have been tired for the past four years with this Administration. We need a sense of normalcy and decency. Compassion and empathy, which were two of the big themes during the DNC. This week was a nice reminder that we, as a country, can have that again."

"I agree. Very well said. You always end on a positive. I appreciate that. Thank you, Congresswoman Y/L/N, for taking the time to talk with me. You always provide great insight into the world of politics and your experience as an elected official," said Chris and ended the recording. "That was really great, Y/N. I know Mark, and I really appreciate you taken the time to do these interviews for ASP," Chris added.

"Oh, it is no problem. Like I said before, I like what you both are doing with the site. Are you happy with how everything turned out?" you asked him.

"Yeah… it's…it took a while to just get the website up and running. I know there is still work that needs to be done. Some areas need to be fixed, but with a project like this, we can adjust. There is more room for improvement and growth," Chris communicated to you.

You nodded in agreement. "Politics is a whole different ballgame. Not many people are willing to venture into the field. It can cause a lot of annoyances and headaches. So, hats off to you, my friend," you said, giving Chris a salute.

"Thank you. Well, I better let you go. I know you must have a million things on your plate."

"Ah yes, I have to go and save the United States Postal Service from corruption. Talk to you later, Chris. Take care," you waved goodbye and signed off.

Chris had to admit, he was in awe of you. There was something about you that fascinated him. None of the elected officials he and Mark talked to for ASP had the liveliness you had. You were not jaded or defeated by the system, at least not yet, since you were still considered a junior member of congress. Chris hoped that the energy and enthusiasm you had for politics and helping people would not diminish. When his Uncle Mike was still a congressman, he shared with Chris that D.C. can cause a lot of strain on a person's values and beliefs. "I have seen too many of my colleagues succumb to the pressures of dirty politics," Uncle Mike once said.

Chris just hoped that you would not succumb to those pressures.

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you

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yuulina-vre · 3 years

Text

Gifting you a new life

First Meeting

Pairing: Steve x Bucky, Reader insert

Warnings: None here :D just mentions of Migraines

Word count: 3197 words

Part: One

Summary: Y/N lifes with her best friend Steve in a house she inherted from he grrandmother. Starting the day is different this morning.

Masterlist

* * *

Waking up is almost always a struggle. Not only because sleeping is just the best thing in the world but because you have to face the real world, the real problems. You have duties and responsibilities. You have to get up and to work, hence all the early mornings and nights with too few sleep. The worst of waking up, though, are the people that are chipper in the morning and start chatting before the first three cups of coffee. Bombarding you with questions, tasks, chatting idly about the happenings of the last few days, that you mostly have witnessed by the way, and still sound happy. Y/N hates people that are like that. They don’t have to come close to her before it’s 10 am and even then, she’s still grumpy and sleepy, answering only with grunts and looks.

She clearly isn’t a morning person, and she doesn’t intend on getting be one. She loves sleeping as long as she can, never wakes before her last and loudest alarm and even then, it’s a fight to not turn around a last time for some shut eye. It’s a miracle if she gets up before it or stands up right away. She’ running late more often than she’s actually on time. Steve knows that very well, having witnessed enough panicking mornings with rushing, grumbling and hectic. Occasionally he got punched for scolding her, which resulted in him not saying anything anymore, instead just watching while calmly sipping his cup of coffee and eating Y/N breakfast, which he knows she won’t have time to eat. Some mornings he’s up to the challenge and cautiously wakes her up, dodging half attempted, sleepy punches and laughing at muffled insults. Though, he always greets her with a cup of coffee in the kitchen, on rare times even at her bed.

Today, though, Y/N wakes before her last alarm and she feels good, great even. She’s fully rested, having fallen asleep earlier than usual and slept like a baby with a proper amount of eight hours of sleep, that her body seems to need and rarely gets. Turning her alarm off, she wonders mildly why Steve wasn’t here to wake her for the fifth time like the rest of the week. He had made it his goal to get her up early and annoy her to ends. Sadly, her roommate is a morning person and succeeds in annoying her. Usually, he’s wide awake before her first alarm blares through her room. By the time she walks down, he was on his run, has showered, was eating his breakfast, and reading the latest paper, always greeting her with a soft smile. She hates it. Y/N stretches the arms over her head, pressing her hands against the wall and stretches her whole body as long as she can, toes almost reaching the edge of the mattress. A high-pitched sigh escapes her, back popping once, just then does she stop, sits up and swings her legs out of her bed. She wonders briefly if she’s feeling what Steve feels every morning. It doesn’t feel as bad as she thinks.

The floor feels cold to her bed-warmed feet. She doesn’t like cold feet. It’s a chilling feeling and Y/N always feels like it takes half of the day to get warm again, at least when she’s not putting on socks soon. Looking around her room she tries to find her fluffy socks that she knows she had put out yesterday, but in the depth of her room that’s filled with dirty laundry, school stuff, pencils, canvases, and some books, it’s difficult to spot the socks. Steve had gifted them to her after they moved in together. He always complained when she had shoved her ice feet under his thighs on the couch to warm them up. She looks around but doesn’t spot them. She sighs deeply and wanders into her attached bathroom to grab a quick shower. Since she’s up early she has the time for a pleasure like that. Most of the time she’s so late that she reduces her showers to be at night before she goes to bed.

The warm spray of water feels incredibly on her limbs, she feels wide awake. It’s a secret, that she can understand morning people right now, but no one ever will hear her say it out loud. She shuts the water off again, without really washing herself. She did that the night before and wasn’t sweating at all the whole night, so it’s okay for her. Stepping out of the shower cabin she’s freezing. The air in the room is chilly on her wet skin, not having the time to heat up. Not even the mirror is fogged over. Wrapping herself in a big blue towel, hair secured in a smaller one, so it won’t make her screech when the cold, wet meet’s her skin on moment she hasn’t counted it on happening, she walks back out.

She glances at her door to the hallway and debates if she should look for Steve or not. He’s a grown up after all and maybe he just wasn’t feeling like waking her up this morning. She looks to her clock on the nightstand. She still has about forty-five minutes until she needs to head out, so she leaves her room only to stop at Steve’s closed, a clear sign, that he’s still inside and not on his run or something. “Steve are you up?” She listens for an answer an any other sound but hears nothing. “Maybe he went for a run after all.” She thinks before she continues her way down into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water to take up to her room. It’s not unusual for Steve to go on an early morning run and stretch it a bit longer. He did that a lot when they were still in the university, less since they work, though.

Back in her own room, she takes a big gulp of water before she dries her hair as best as she can and then takes her hair dryer to get it actually dry. She quickly slips into her bra and a panty, dark blue jeans and a white blouse, studying herself in the mirror. One look to her nightstand shows her, that it’s quarter past seven and Y/N frowns a little. If Steve is actually on a run then he would already be back by now, making breakfast and complaining about her needing so long. Which she can’t understand, since she’s not doing any make up for work, she’s actually pretty quick in getting ready, at least when she’s already up. She needs longer to get out of bed than to actually get dressed. She walks back into the hall for the second time after putting the towels back into the bathroom for drying. “Steve! Get up or you’ll be late! It’s the second time that I knock now.” Y/N knocks on his door but there are still no sounds from inside. She shakes her head, goes back to her bathroom, and quickly brushes her teeth and her hair, pulls it up into a ponytail and looks herself over for a last time. In her bedroom she packs her bag for work and goes out into the hall for the last time, stopping at Steve’s room again and frowns a little.

She’s the one who loves to sleep in and sometimes Steve has his dear struggles to get her awake and presentable in time. When he’s not waking her then he’s either on his run or she’s the one to wake him but that is pretty rare. Sometimes Steve grades his essays until deep into the night or he does some art of his own. That always causes him to sleep in a little. He usually gets up by the second knock though and Y/N knows that he did neither of the things last night.

She knocks again. “Steve? You’re up?” She waits but receives no answer, just like before. “I’m coming in, yeah?” She waits for him to respond again but as the silence stretches, she lets her bag fall to the floor and opens the door carefully. The room is pitch black. No sound comes from it and Y/N is a little confused. Steve rarely draws his blinds closed. He loves to gaze at the stars and search for constellations when he can’t fall asleep. She steps in slowly and looks around until she spots Steve’s figure on his bed. “Steve?” The man does not react to her call aside from a little twitch. She sighs a little frustrated and turns to the light switch to turn the light on as she hears his, surprisingly silent and tired sounding voice. “Please don’t. No light.” Y/N raises her eyebrows in surprise before she frowns at him again and she walks over to Steve’s bed, crouching down beside him. She sees his features. He really looks tired. And pale, even in the nonexciting light. She raises her hand and places it on his forehead. “Are you sick?”

“Nah.” He answers with a rough voice and then groans. “Migraine.” Y/N winces in sympathy. She knows Steve’s migraines are getting pretty bad sometimes. Normally it’s just a mean headache that sits behind his eyes, letting him think they pop right out. He still powers through teaching then and collapses on the couch when he’s home to sleep it off. Y/N usually strokes through his hair then and sometimes reads from her recent book to him until he falls asleep. If the migraine is worse, than he can’t get up from bed. Light feels like it’s making him blind, and he constantly feels sick but never vomits, which makes him mentally exhausted and a little antsy sometimes. He’s always waiting to vomit, hoping he would feel better afterwards. His limbs would hurt pretty much, and he rather stays in bed then move an inch. Y7n levels her voice to a silent, soft tone. “How long has it been now?”

“Started around three.” He groans again and hides a little further into the pillows. Y/N runs her hand lightly through his hair, scratching her nails a little at his neck and massaging it. Steve let’s out a small sigh. “You should have woken me, Stevie. I could have done something.”

“Nah. Didn’t want to wake you up. Can’t do anything ‘bout it that helps anyway.” Y/N sighs and shakes her head, watching the blonde hide in his pillow. She runs her hand through his hair carefully and sighs. “I’ll be back in a minute.” Her voice is low and soft but a little annoyed, showing him that she’s not pleased that he didn’t say anything but still worries and cares about his wellbeing. She stands up silently, leaving the room. There’s not that much time left she needs to leave for work, but she takes what little time she has to make sure Steve has everything he needs. God forbid she leaves him hanging in his misery. Y/N practically runs down the stairs to the kitchen to gather three water bottles from the fridge, some light food, and another pack of pain meds out of the first aid box under the sink. As fast as she can she runs the stairs back up and to Steve’s room, trying to make as few sounds as possible. The door is pushed open with her hip and she tiptoes back over to Steve and places her gatherings on the nightstand, arranging it after his possible needs, before lightly touching his back, where his shirt had ridden up. She scratches his skin a little making him groan. She doesn’t really know if it’s in comfort or not, but he’s not struggling away, so she takes it as a win. “Stevie. Take some painkillers. No, don’t give me this look. Come on.” Y/N helps him to sit up, holding his shoulders while he blinks for a few moments. He probably git dizzy, no matter how slow he sat up. She has to admit that he actually looks a little green around his nose, too. “need to puke?”

“No…” Steve shakes his head lightly, groaning instantly afterwards. “Feels like my eye pop out.”

“Hopefully not. Would be a shitty kind of work to get them back in.” She jokes and is pleased to see the littlest smirk on his face. She manages to coax some water in his hands and a few painkillers in his mouth. Steve gets them down in record time, taking some cautious sips of his water and passing it back to her. The moment the water is out of his hands he collapses back down with a groan. “It’s a really bad one, huh? You’re several shades greener than before.”

“Hm.” Steve hums and drapes his arm over his eyes. “Shit.” Y/N curses and rubs his arm. She feels conflicted. She really needs to leave to get to school on time, but she doesn’t want to leave Steve alone if he feels this bad. She knows he can cope with his migraine and that she actually can’t really do anything to help him if he stays but her mind would be at ease. Who knows, he could fall over while attempting to go to the bathroom or something. If she stays home, she will know he’s alright and not dying in some dark corner. Pepper and Tony wouldn’t be happy about her calling them both in sick, though. And Steve wouldn’t either. “I can stay, you know.”

“Nah, I’ll be fine.”

“Really?”

“Mhm.” She frowns a little, placing her head on the mattress next to Steve, hugging him a little with her arm over his chest. She stays for a few seconds like that, only listening to his breathing and the faint ticktacks of a clock somewhere. “Alright, okay. I need to leave.” She sighs again and sits up, rubbing her hand over his chest. He hums at that but doesn’t move more. “Did you call or text Pepper? Called in sick?” Steve grunts a no. “That’s okay. I’ll do it on my way to school. You just stay here, okay? Rest, don’t move. Maybe try to sleep a little.” She leans in and presses a soft kiss to the space on his forehead that she can reach before she stands back up. “Call me if you need something. Anything.” She waits a second until he nods before she gently squeezes his ankle in and silently slips out of his room. She quickly grabs her bag and a toast from the kitchen to eat while driving. She grabs her keys and leaves the house, almost running because she’s actually running late now and sprints the way to her car. She fumbles with her phone while opening the car door, slips in, starts the engine and drives while dialing Pepper‘s office number, toast in her mouth. She barely managed to grab it. “Stark’s school for gifted children, Pepper Potts, hello?”

“Hi, Pepper. It’s Y/N.” Y/N quickly chews the last bite and swallows it down, suppressing the need to cough because she didn’t chew it properly and it almost got stuck. “Hello Y/N. Good morning. What can I do for you?” Pepper’s chipper voice sounds through the speaker making Y/N aware of her hate for morning people. But she likes Pepper. Not only is Pepper the school’s secretary, she’s also Tony’s wife and deputy headmistress. And almost always in a good mood, except if Tony did any dumb stuff again or someone even dares to look at the school, kids or the teachers in the wrong way. “I want to call in sick for Steve. He’s sick and won’t make it to work today. And maybe tomorrow from the looks of it.” Y/N is glad that it’s actually Thursday already, so the students won’t miss anything important now. Summer break is in two weeks and the most stuff they have to teach is over. Now the children only have to study on their own most of the time to get ready for the last big exam before they go on their much-needed break. She hears Pepper sigh, if it’s in sympathy or something else she can’t tell but she knows Pepper never means to hurt someone, so she hopes its sympathy. At least her voice sounds like it. “Oh no, okay. I type him in. Is it that serious? His asthma?”

“I hope not, and his asthma is fine, still as few attacks as usual. He says it’s a migraine. But a bad one as it seems. He was pretty pale and couldn’t even sit up in bed for long.”

“Oh man. That’s the second one this month. Will he be alright? You did order him to sleep it off, right?”

“Who do you think I am? Of course, I made him sleep. He’s not supposed to move an inch.” Y/N smiles while she stops at a red light. She really likes that Pepper worries about her and Steve so much. They actually got pretty close in the last year. They consider each other as friends already. it wasn’t so easy with Tony, at least for Steve. Tony almost instantly liked Y/N after they started teaching five years ago. Steve, though, was a whole other story. Somehow, the two men almost constantly were on each other’s throats. Last year Y/N and Pepper had enough. They had sat them down in a room, gave them a lecture and locked them in it with the promise to let them out when they got things sorted. It actually took an hour for both of them to get along. Y/N remembers lots of shouting, but it worked out fine. Since then, they are pretty good friends. Still fighting now and then but always making up after a week or so.

“That’s good. I can see here that he has three art classes today.”

“I can take them. One is in my free hour and one after I’m usually finished. The other one can be put together with my art class for the new kids. I can make them work together. They can learn a thing or two. His history classes should have enough work to do with studying for the exam he set up for Monday. He has just two of the starter classes today if I’m right.”

“Yeah, I see it. His plan tomorrow is with only one art class and four history classes. You need to call in tomorrow morning to tell me if he’s coming.”

“No problem.” Y/N only needs five more minutes until she’s driving on the parking lot of the school, so she drives a little slower, not speeding so much. “Okay. But he’s supposed to have a meeting with Tony around two, today. I need to talk to Tony about it.”

“If it’s about the art classes than I can take the meeting over, otherwise I’m afraid you need to reschedule.”

“I’ll talk to Tony. You better come in when you arrive.”

“Sure.” She tells Pepper she’s there in two minutes and comes straight to her. Then she hangs up and sighs.

Next Part

#Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #Steve x Bucky #reader insert #Reader #Bucky x Steve #Yuulina writes

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fallenrepublick · 4 years

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If these are still open... can I request a part 2 of our Feral family? Possibly with Maul and his reaction to seeing this other brother of his and also that he actually has a family of his own? We get to see more interaction between Savage and Feral's children as the boys just adore their uncle? While, of course, Feral is making them a nice home meal to let his pregnant wife relax with their coming daughter. I love this family and they shall live on!!

This ended up long as fUck but it was cute, so whatever

Here is the first part.

Warnings: A screwy timeline

“Did I not tell him to stay with the ship…”

Having thoroughly scoped out the land and finding it annoyingly peaceful, Maul had returned to where he had landed with Savage hours later only to find the ship… empty. It was unlike him to wander around anywhere without reason, but even more unlikely that the over two meters tall Zabrak had been captured, especially not by people like these. The only reasonable conclusion, Maul decided, was that something had caught his brother’s eye and he had chosen to follow it.

He turned in the direction of the nearby village, the faces of the houses and buildings obstructed by thick forest life and plants taller than any natural greenery Maul had ever been in the presence of. He trekked forward, unsteady footing slowing down his pace, and pushed through the vines and leaves that blocked his path. Mumbling to himself as he walked, he dearly hoped, for Savage’s sake, that whatever he had followed was worth it.

The forest ended at the edge of the village, loud lively, many residents having taken to the streets enthralled in conversation and tasks, some children running to fro as they played. It hadn’t seemed like Savage had been through there, but then again, one could never be too sure.

As he began walking amongst the people, his vision glazed over the people largely too interested in their own business to notice a stranger traveling within their midst. Faces of various colors blurred together in a haze of surreal memories. He understood, at least a little, the appeal of this planet, the rainbow of appearances that spanned not only through the population but also the environment kept everything interesting, preventing its natives from falling into the dangers of monotony.

The noise of the bustling town didn’t interest him, but one single voice stood out from the others. Though it wasn’t one he knew, there was a strange familiarity to it, as if it was one he was supposed to.

To his right stood a lone house, modest in size, but no less pretty, with multiple figures moving in the front, backlit by the lowering sun. The voice had come from there, light and cheerful, the primary trait an airiness that he hadn’t heard in a long time. Upon venturing closer, hesitance slowing his pace, he could more clearly see the family in question and the source of his curiosity.

Savage stood with the family, arms crossed in deep consideration. Beside him was yet another Zabrak, similar in color, but lighter, soft brown tattoos framing his face less intrusive than his own. He was smaller, younger, more innocent than Maul or Savage, but he held himself assuredly, as if the cruelty of reality hadn’t quite hit him yet. Or maybe it had and he had just chosen to ignore it.

Three children, varying in height, were beginning to be herded together, directed towards the house as the smaller Zabrak continued his conversation.

“-but to this day I still don’t know where the ship came from. But you know how we were, always ready to fight outsiders when the goings got tough!” His laugh was just as cheerful, ringing in everyone’s ears like bells from a clocktower in the mornings. As he spoke, he lightly elbowed Savage, who himself was smiling at his companion, more pleased than Maul had ever seen him.

Though the conversation halted when Maul approached, Savage’s smile fading as he remembered what he had even come for, and Feral’s eyes widening in surprise at the new visitor.

“Is this-” Feral began, gesturing towards Maul, who’s annoyance had faded into simple confusion when he had fully processed the scene in front of him. Savage simply nodded in response, and it wasn’t long that Feral was hurrying over to Maul, a grin plastered on his face.

“We haven’t formally met, yet!” His hand was outstretched, eager to make contact. “I’m Feral. I’m not sure how much you know about me, but I’m your brother!”

Maul took the hand, albeit reluctantly, and nodded. “I’ve heard… only a small amount. Though I was under the impression you were-”

“Dead?” Feral shot Savage a glance. “I might’ve been, if I didn’t have help along the way… Oh well, both of you should come in! I cook around here most of the time, so we can catch up while I feed the monsters.”

Savage smiled at the thought, watching as Feral led them back to the house. Maul however, remained wary, uncertain of how his brother had come to build such a comfortable life while he still struggled to get more than three hours of sleep each night.

“You look so concerned…” Savage mentioned as Maul came up beside him, brow furrowed. “I’ve known him our whole lives. Nothing bad will happen.”

Maul shook his head. “It’s not that. I just don’t understand it. How can he come from a planet like ours and still be able to maintain such… domesticity?”

“Feral was always more tame than the rest of us. I wouldn’t call it weakness, just… an aversion to the violence he was born into.” He stopped a moment, sighing as he watched his nephews race to get into the house first. “I always worried for him, hoping he wouldn’t be targeted as defective if he didn’t adapt to the harshness. He found a way, though.”

Maul said nothing, mind still contemplating the strangeness of it all. He had never considered the possibility of anything other than the power he was raised to believe in, yet here was one of his own kin, living out a life free from that constant struggle. It didn’t sit right.

Still, both followed their brother inside, the children wrestling in the living room and a female Togruta laying on the plush couch. The colors on the interior were light and natural, soft on the eyes and fitting for the natural aura of the village.

Already, Feral had prepared drinks for the company, setting cups on the wooden table outside the kitchen. His brothers sat, Savage visibly more comfortable than Maul was.

The oldest child had seemed to take a liking to Savage, lingering around him as often as possible. He couldn’t have been older than ten, head-tails still very short, encircled by budding horns that were placed more like Savage’s than Feral’s. His skin was a lighter brown, as were the stripes on his head-tails, and he carried himself with more authority than his siblings, prepared to remind him of his elder status at any moment.

“You know,” he said to Savage, leaning forward on the table’s edge, restlessly kicking up his legs. “I’m gonna be like you when I get older. I’m the biggest and the strongest of my brothers, and I’m going to make sure it stays that way!”

“It’s ah… not an easy task…” Savage replied, not wanting to admit that he effectively cheated. Maul snickered. “You’ll have to train for years if you want that to happen.”

“I don’t care!” He leapt up, arms crossing and chest puffing out. “I look kinda like you anyways, so I’m already halfway there!” Well, that’s good, at least he was aware of it.

Feral piped up as he filled a pot with water. “Terren, you’re still not done with school. Please wait until you can long divide before you do that.”

Maul felt something on his leg. It was the youngest, about two, tapping on the metal casing. Rounder and softer in features than his older brother, he was a deep green, like his mother, but the horns that just barely poked out from the area around his head tails bore a strange, uncomfortable resemblance to Maul’s when he was that age. Remarkably curious, he was easy to please as long as he got the answers he sought. And at that moment, he was seeking answers about the being in front of him that he was certain was a droid.

“Fake?” His nails tapped again, harder. Maul didn’t like children in any situation, but what he liked even less was that he found this one mildly charming. He moved his foot back, just to see what would happen, fully expecting the child to cry. But no, he simply scooched himself back with it, gaining an even closer look. “Fake.” He nodded, having determined his hypothesis correct, and placed both hands directly on top of Maul’s foot in confidence.

He really wanted to pick this kid up.

Against his better judgement and personality, he reached down and lifted the child up to eye-level, not sure what he was looking for, yet searching nonetheless. Upon seeing his uncle’s face for the first time, as he was much too small to have noticed it before, the child’s expression hardened into intense concentration. This being was certainly not a droid, and it was unfortunate that now he’d have to go back to the drawing board to discover the truth once more.

“Oh that’s Uta…” Feral said, noticing his brother holding up the young child like a small sack of potatoes. “He’s… a handful.” He laughed as he said it, the sounds of cooking food blending with his smooth voice.

Uta was still frowning, having earned his spot standing on Maul’s lap, and very clearly trying to reason out why he had been tricked before. “Real.” He pointed at Savage. “Real?” He turned to look up at Maul, whose expression was difficult to read. “Fake?”

“It’s about half and half…” Maul offered, hoping to relieve the child of what might’ve been the most stressful situation of his mini life.

“Half-av?” He considered a moment, letting the newly learned word sizzle in his mind a second. Feral tried to choke down his laugh. Uta finally nodded. “Half-av.” The answer was acceptable.

And in came the middle child, mother in tow, who was still discussing an old legend about Nautolans as he entered the room. Stalky and narrow, he was the researcher of the family. He looked most like Feral, with kind eyes turned down at the edges, his mild yellow colors dimmer than his siblings and a slight air of nervousness surrounding him like a cloud, but that didn’t stop him from opening up to his family in ways few would understand or expect. Madin was nodding thoughtfully as she listened to him, pulling out a chair so that she could also sit with everyone else.

“I, for one, don’t understand the Anselmi’s goals in the long run.” He leaned against the table’s edge closest to the kitchen as he finished his explanation. “Oh hey, I’m Forta.” He gave Maul a small two-fingered salute as his introduction.

“Out of the way, out of the way,” Feral chuckled as he waved his kids away with one arm and set down a large serving platter with another. Forta scurried over to Savage’s side, where he marveled at the sturdiness of his uncle’s armor. He began going on about various materials found throughout the galaxy, and was gushing about Beskar, while Terren tried to convince him that no one wanted to hear his boring facts.

Sitting down beside his wife, Feral rubbed Madin’s back while the three boys hurried to their seats across from them.

“You know…” he began slowly, considering the environment. “I didn’t think this sort of thing was possible, getting off of Dathomir… having something more than what we were told was allowed.” He glanced over at Savage, who met his eyes and looked down. “But I get to have all of this… and I’m so glad that you two get to be a part of that now, too. So… I guess what I’m trying to say is… Thank you. For everything.”

#feral #savage opress #maul #darth maul

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badger-writes · 3 years

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Star Wars OC Ship Week 2021 - “for light and love”

6 - Milestones (First Kiss)

The Jedi Temple, as a general rule, was always humming with activity. As the sun set overhead and the light of faraway stars illuminated the night, the Temple’s diurnal residents would pass into sleep, and their nocturnal fellows would wake. Thus did most days on Coruscant pass for the Jedi - but there came times, scant minutes and hours between the changing of its custodians, where the harmonious bustling which characterized the domain of the Jedi fell silent, and the whole complex itself seemed to fall into a kind of hollow slumber.

It was within one of these slices of pristine, unshared time that Kelto Lem found himself drawn to the meditation hall which housed the Kyber Arch.

Why, he could not say - he had not seen the Arch for many years, not since he was a youngling. He respected its significance, internalized its meaning, but it had never held any special or personal gravity for himself. It had always been too much of an open space, he’d thought, most of the time with too many people there to properly meditate - and it was difficult to focus properly sitting at the foot of a monument to Jedi lost.

So what was he doing here now, at this early hour? Why had he been struck with the compulsion to visit it when all others were asleep? He stood at the door to its hall and puzzled over the answers, grappling with uncertainty.

Was it the work of the Force? Had it brought him here? Had he ... lost his way, somehow? Committed some minor sin of ingratitude or dismissal to the price for peace the Light had paid? Wandered astray from the path in some other matter? And was this some test, then - a chance for the penitent adrift to find absolution?

Was it because of his feelings for Sskeer?

Belatedly, Kelto realized there was someone beside him. Someone tall, and stocky, and looking at him with an expression somewhere between ‘mildly cross’ and ‘quietly concerned’.

“Healer Lem,” Sskeer said, by way of greeting.

“Oh,” said Kelto, turning. “Hello.” Speak of the devil, he thought.

“You’re up early,” the Trandoshan noted.

“Oh… yeah. Couldn’t get to sleep.” He shrugs, looking off to one side. “Happens.”

Sskeer hummed. “Do you often go this far from your chambers on nights like this?”

“I dunno,” the Rodian shrugged again. “Do you?”

The Guardian cocked a brow. The corner of his mouth tugged to one side.

“Not often,” he replied.

“I’ll bet,” Kelto mumbled, on account of having nothing better to say.

His eyes were drawn back to the door as though magnetized. He scratched the side of his head, the pom of his topknot bobbling in kind. Having Sskeer here had done nothing to reduce his uncertainty; if anything, now he felt foolish for being here at all.

But Sskeer was looking at the door, too, arms crossed and jaw set.

“It calls to you, too,” he observed finally.

Kelto’s hands found each other hanging at the level of his hips; hesitantly, he clasped one over the other. “Y-you think so?”

“Search your feelings. We are meant to be here.”

“Both of us? Now? ...Together?”

“It is... unusual,” he admitted, voice softening. “But yes. I am certain.”

“But why?”

Sskeer exhaled slowly through his nose. “I don’t know.”

His arms were crossed pretty hard, Kelto noticed - the claws of his fingers digging into the roughspun of his sleeves. His teeth ground slowly, imperceptibly, against each other.

“You nervous, too?” he asked.

“Confronting fear is the destiny of a Jedi.”

“That’s just rhetoric. Isn’t that what you always say? Jedi are supposed to act, right?”

Sskeer gave Kelto a sidelong look. His mouth tugged to the side again in an almost-smile - and stayed there.

“So… let’s go in, I guess.” Kelto shrugged. “After all, it’s only the Kyber Arch. What’s it gonna do, fall on us?”

At that, the Trandoshan chuffed, and stepped forward. “Let’s go find out.”

Within the white chamber behind the door stood the Kyber Arch itself - a vaulting monument to fallen Jedi, a semicircle of dull gray crystal - kyber crystals - thousands of them, reclaimed from the lightsabers of their brethren that had perished in the line of duty. With that knowledge, the grim cost of the peace of the Jedi became apparent; the Arch stood taller than either of them, than any of them. Tall enough to almost touch the atrium windows in the cavernous ceiling of the chamber that let in the day and night. And yet, for their sacrifice, something beautiful had been created - beautiful, and enduring.

An inspiring sight, to be sure - but in the dark of the very early morning, a dark on which the night could just as easily lay claim, the only thing it inspired in Sskeer and Kelto was confusion. They padded across the floor to one side of its base.

“So… we’re here,” Kelto said, mostly to Ssker but also to … the Force, maybe? He didn’t know. “What do we do now?”

“I wish I knew,” Sskeer admitted. His eyes traced the faraway edge of the semicircle, stretching high above them. “This is the first time I have been called in such a way by the Force. I am… unsure how to proceed.”

Kelto’s snout pulled to the side thoughtfully. His eyes narrowed, and joined Sskeer’s in scanning the faraway horizon the Arch cut through the ceiling.

“‘Why can no Jedi cross the Kyber Arch alone?’” he wondered.

“Hm?”

“It’s something my master told me to think about once, but I don’t think I ever cracked it. Have you heard of it before?”

“I have.”

“Maybe it’s like that,” the Rodian speculated. “Maybe we have to - I don’t know, solve it. It’s like a puzzle, or a test.”

Sskeer grunted doubtfully. “I don’t think it’s the kind of question that can be ‘solved’.”

“Well, why not?”

“Consider the question. It suggests that such a feat cannot be performed, and yet we can safely assume that it can, through persistence and the Force.”

“I mean - probably. Yeah, I could climb that. Do you think I could climb that?”

“Whether you can physically perform the task is irrelevant. It is a question without a right answer. Its point is to provoke contemplation, and through introspection, deeper understanding.” He hooked his thumbs into his belt, setting his jaw with a snort. “It’s rhetorical.”

Kelto stared up at Sskeer, then back up at the Arch. Slowly, his head nodded up and down.

“I think I get it,” he said finally. “If there’s no single right answer, then it follows that there’s potentially hundreds of possible answers, yes?”

“It is a possibility,” Sskeer conceded.

“Okay, so… maybe we solve the test by finding an answer of our own.”

“I already have one.”

“Really?” The Rodian looked up at him slyly. “You mind letting me cheat off your paper, then?”

When Sskeer looked back at him, his face was unexpectedly somber. “I doubt you’d appreciate it..”

“...Oh,” Kelto said, deflating. “Well, okay, then.”

“And regardless, I’m sure it’s something we must discover for ourselves.”

They stood before the Arch in contemplative silence.

“...So how do we, you know… do that?”

“Well, I don’t know,” Sskeer growled. “I’m a Guardian, not a philosopher.”

“Don’t have a roth, big guy. I’m just fishing for ideas.” Kelto rubbed his chin, an act which squished his snout left and right on his face. His eyes traced the arch from its two-meters-wide foot to the tip of its curve one more time, and twice more after that. He was treating it seriously now, Sskeer could tell - and the way his brow was furrowed and his eyes were narrowed, he was apparently searching his feelings intensely.

Then Kelto paced forward and laid a palm against the surface of the monument.

It was only crystal, raw kyber, accumulated and fused together into a single piece. Smooth to the touch, jagged in places where fragments taken for blades of light had been returned to a lattice of their own kind and begun to heal back together. If he had been expecting a breakthrough to occur from mere touch, none was forthcoming.

But that was alright. He’d already had one.

“The answer’s in the question,” Kelto said slowly. “We have to do what it’s asking before we can understand its meaning.”

Sskeer thought for a moment. Then he hrrrred. “That seems logical.”

“Then… what are we waiting for? Let’s climb the Kyber Arch.”

“Were it so easy. With an audience of our peers present, we might be prevented any injury from falling; alone, we take our safety into our own hands.”

But Kelto was already wriggling out of his soft ankle-high boots. “I’ll be fine,” he said, and lifted his bare sole to show off the fine ridges of setae lining the front quarter of his foot. “Rodians are natural climbers. And if I can do it, you can, too!”

Still, Sskeer doubted. “Did you forget the question in your rush for an answer? ‘Why can no Jedi cross the Kyber Arch alone’. Not ‘with a colleague in tow’.”

“I mean - it doesn’t say we have to do it together! You can just go down to the other end and climb up that side. That’ll be fine, right?”

“That depends. Do you think the Force wants us to follow the spirit or the letter of your test?”

“Come on, Sskeer, just--” Kelto took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. When his eyes opened, they fixed Sskeer with an unusual intensity.

“Listen,” he said. “I think you might be right. Maybe the Force wanted us to come down here - both of us, at the same time. But I think I’m right, too, and we’re being put through some kind of trial. Not physically, but spiritually. I think the Force is trying to tell us something, Sskeer, and I think it’s trying to say something about us. Not ‘you and I’, but us.”

Sskeer bristled. “I wouldn’t speak so openly of such a thing,” he muttered. “Even alone.”

“I think we have to! We have to, Sskeer, because right now the Force might be already.” He looked up at the wall of crystal towering before them, running his fingers along its glassy surface. “But we won’t know until we stop dancing around it and listen. That’s all it’s asking us to do right now, Sskeer - not confess, not cut ourselves off, not… throw ourselves into hovertraffic on Level 1313. Just to listen. However we can.

And if all it wants us to do is listen, then… shouldn’t we at least try?”

Sskeer stared at him. His lips were set in a tight line, and his claws were digging into the meat of his palms. Kelto wasn’t sure he’d heard him at all, until his eyes dipped downward and he began studying the way his toeclaws were sinking into the floormats.

“You realize it is possible we will not like what it has to say,” he said slowly.

“Of course I do.” Kelto trotted back over to stand before him. “And - we probably won’t. We both know we’ve been bending the letter of the Code to the breaking point just by having this, this … this whatever we’ve been doing, no matter what Jora says. But - if this really ends up being the end of the line - “ He gulped. “I’m ready for that conversation if you are.”

If it weren’t for his familiarity with the man, the careful grace contained in that monstrous exterior, Kelto might have missed the tremor in Sskeer’s chest when he breathed, and in his jaw beneath his grinding teeth. He felt a deep pang of empathy - and alongside it, one of guilt. He could only imagine how Sskeer himself must have been feeling.

“It’s cruel,” he finally said, voice thick. “A cruel trick of fate. I knew this moment was coming, and yet - now that I finally find myself here… I am still afraid.”

Kelto smiled gently, and wrapped one of his hands around the Trandoshan’s. “Confronting fear is the destiny of the Jedi.”

Sskeer nodded through a shaky breath. Then he squeezed his eyes shut, swallowed once - and all frustration and anxiety exhaled out of him. When he opened his eyes, they were no longer wet.

“I will go to the other end of the Kyber Arch,” he said steadily. “When I reach the summit, I will descend along your path, and you shall do the same along mine. We will climb it apart, yet together - and see if that is enough for the Force to reach us.”

“‘Apart, yet together’. I like that.”

Sskeer squeezed his hand firmly. “Be careful,” he hissed. “Should you fall - “

“You’ll catch me.”

“If I can’t-- If I don’t--”

“We’ll try again.”

The Trandoshan blinked down at the Rodian slowly. Then he chuckled forlornly. “I thought I was supposed to be the brave one of the two of us.”

“I learned from the bravest,” Kelto smiled.

Like most climbs, it got harder the further they went.

Though the Arch began at a width of two meters, it narrowed progressively towards the top, becoming only as wide as ten centimeters along its summit. The higher one climbed, therefore, the less space there would be to position, and the less cracks and outcroppings for handholds. What started as youngling’s play became no small feat of dexterity and concentration.

Kelto, for his part, was correct in his assumption; he did have the easier time of it, overall. The quirk of the Rodian physique which gifted him sticky fingers and feet made adhering to the skin of the Arch much simpler, though not necessarily a sure thing; slips were just as familiar to him as to Sskeer. The Trandoshan, for his part, had to be much more careful; if he were less patient and less respectful, he could have used the thick claws on his fingertipss and toes for crampons, brute-forcing his way up the crystal spine - but that would have been degrading to the memory of those that had gone before him, and dishonorable beyond measure. His test was one of respect as well as perseverance.

They both reached the final leaning crest of the monument at around the same time. By that point, if you leaned around the trunk of the Arch, you could see almost clear to the other side. Kelto did so, and saw Sskeer bear-hugging the Arch at about a similar latitude as himself. He waved encouragingly.

Sskeer saw this and, on account of his arms being otherwise occupied, nodded curtly in response. Then he reached up to probe for another handhold--

And the narrow edge of his sole slipped completely off the slim edge of kyber he’d been using as a perch. Shock overtook him just seconds too long for him to correct; his other foothold failed him, too, and he found himself hanging by one hand over a drop of what must have been two or three stories.

Sskeer knew if he were to recover from this angle, he’d have to dig into the crystal surface with his claws to gain enough leverage to scrabble back to safety; this was impermissible. He also knew that if he did not do so, his strength would eventually fail him and he would fall; this was simply unavoidable. So he did the only logical thing.

He let go.

Don’t do it, Kelto was pleading in his mind - but Sskeer was already falling.

The Rodian did not hesitate. Using one hand and both feet to keep him attached to the surface of the Arch, he lunged toward his friend as far as the limits of his body would allow him to, hurling the Force out through his free fingers.

Sskeer landed safely in an invisible palm, having not even descended a full two yards from the point of his fall. He stared at Kelto, almost dumbstruck - and more than a little alarmed.

Carrying Sskeer back through thin air to the surface of the Arch required diverting most of his attention from maintaining his grip, but Kelto did so gladly. The hand which cradled the Trandoshan through the Force quivered as he lifted it up, up, up- up beyond even the point at which Sskeer had originally fallen, to the level of a less sheer slope. But even as Sskeer closed the distance, his other palm began to slide on the glass of the crystal, and the toes of his feet began to lose their suction completely.

The moment Sskeer found a grip, he clung to it for all he was worth. Seeing that Kelto was sliding too, and beginning to peel away, he stretched out a hand - not quite as far - and gave him a nudge between the shoulderblades, enough to push him back flat against the Arch. Breathing shakily, Kelto recovered his grip, then pushed on.

It was a relief to finally see each other over the rim of the Kyber Arch. At the summit, at least, there was room enough to stand, albeit precariously. They climbed to their feet and walked the final paces to each other.

“We did it,” Kelto panted, grinning, as they picked their way over the last few meters. “S-star’s End, we really did it!”

Sskeer laughed, mopped his brow, and shook his head. “This is only the halfway point.”

“Well, we did the half that matters!”

“I’m sure the Force will see it that way.”

“The Force-- The Force! You-- I thought you were gonna fall--”

“Yes… and after I’d gone through all that worrying for you...” Sskeer laughed again, really laughed, at the irony of it. “Surik’s Blade, Kelto! I’m supposed to catch you!”

“You can still do that,” the healer said, giddily. “Look, I’ll just tip off the edge like this--”

He started to lean. Sskeer grabbed him by the shoulders, corrected his angle, and pulled him in close.

“Please don’t,” he grunted. “There’s a very thick line between bravery and recklessness.”

“W-well, I wouldn’t know,” Kelto said. “I was never really brave before I met you.”

“You were all along. I only helped you discover it. There’s never been a Jedi born that was a coward, Kelto, and if there was, it certainly wasn’t you.”

The Rodian giggled, flushing. “You’re just saying that because I stopped you getting splattered into space waffle batter down there.”

“It had an impact, yes.”

Kelto hummed. Being up here, at the top of the chamber, secure in Sskeer’s arms as they thrilled in their minor victory… it was nice. He wrapped his own arms around the Trandoshan’s waist; they fit there easily, like hand and glove.

“So what’d I help you discover?”

Sskeer gave a rumble. “The view from up here, mainly.”

“Oh, that’s all? No profound personal revelations you’d like to share?”

He thought for a moment. Then he said, “Perhaps one.”

Carefully, Kelto shuffled backwards half a step to look up, still keeping himself and Sskeer locked in their mutual embrace. “What?”

“A new answer.”

“That’s… vague.”

“‘Why can no Jedi cross the Kyber Arch alone’? I thought I had the answer already; you gave me one more. And I think the Force brought us here to show us they can both be true.”

“Well, don’t leave me in suspense - what’s your new answer?”

“No Jedi can cross the Arch alone - because we are never alone.”

Outside, the day finally broke, and the sun streamed in through the atrium windows.

The Kyber Arch’s ‘golden hour’ had finally struck - the point in time at which sunlight streamed through the transparent monument and refracted through the thousands of kyber crystals which made up its body, illuminating them, revealing their many splendorous colors that for most of the cycle lay dormant. A beam of sun became a trickle of hue - and then, in moments, the room filled with vibrant rainbows. The Arch twinkled and shone like a kaleidoscope beneath their bare feet.

Sskeer and Kelto fell silent, and for a time watched the lights dance throughout the room in quiet amazement.

“It seems we passed,” Sskeer murmured thoughtfully.

Kelto stared up into his eyes, pleasant astonishment written across his face. Then he wrapped his arms around Sskeer’s neck, levered himself up on tiptoes, and kissed him. The Trandoshan wound his own arms around the Rodian’s shoulders and kissed back, just as fervently.

“I love you, Sskeer.”

“And I you, Kelto Lem.”

It was morning again in the High Republic.

#StarWarsOCShipWeek2021 #star wars #high republic #sskeer #original character #kyber arch #oc x canon #fanfic

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join-the-joywrite · 4 years

Text

Hamish & Vera soulmate au headcannons

Lil headcannons for a colours soulmate au in which the S1 finale wasn't the first time Hamish had been hit in the face with the powder. Because why not? This version of the colours is the one where you can only see varying shades of the colour of your soulmate's eyes. Because why not?

Here is part two, as promised

To everyone who knows Vera on any level, she hasn't changed a bit. Okay, maybe she's a little bit more sharp now and then and she gets a little testy whenever it rains. But maybe that's just the stress of being Grand Magus, and Temple Magus, and Chancellor of Belgrave setting in.

When she's alone at home, Vera stays up late into the night, wondering if she made the right decisions. She falls asleep in Hamish's jacket often.

The jacket is completely worn through now, the suede verging on ruined again. But she doesn't want to make back to brand new again nor does she ever want to get rid of it. It's quite literally that last bit of Hamish -- her Hamish -- that she has left.

She tells herself that it's for the best. If the Knights remained active, the Order would pursue them to the ends of the earth. But you have a seat of power almost all disciples would die for, that inner voice says, you can turn the Order around.

"They're our enemies." "But they don't know that." Well ok fine but I'm also deathly afraid of seeing Hamish's face again so let's not talk about this ever.

Eventually, logic trumps all else and Vera agrees to induct the Knights.

When Alyssa returns their memories, Jack is consumed by rage and hatred. Hamish wants to feel the same, he wants to be burned bitter by the betrayal, but he can't.

"Secrets are terrible things. They ruin the best of things and can break down nearly everything."

"I love you."

Hamish understands Randall's apprehension, Lilith's disgust and Jack's rage. He wants to say he feels the same. But all he feels his confusion. All he thinks about is the day he watched Vera leave.

Who's jacket had she been wearing?

Hamish runs his thumb over the letter hanging from the chain before tucking it under his new Order robes.

Did the necklace belong ..... to Vera? Because he knows it isn't his and he found it right where he'd fallen.

What the fuck is in Hamish's head on repeat for the entire evening.

"If you're going to stand there, at least make yourself useful." While Vera congratulates herself on her ability to appear as normal in front of Hamish, Hamish studies Vera as he passes her a drink. The same drink he'd watched her make back in the den.

Vera is momentarily distracted by the taste of the drink in her hand.

"Drinks are an art form, V, which means I can make whatever I want with justifiable reasoning." Laughter echoes. "And what are you calling this drink? It's a bit . . . harsh for all your old suggestions." "I'm thinking something along the lines of Vera."

"Are you calling me harsh?!" "I would never!" Pure, unfiltered joy echoes through the entire apartment.

"Magus?" Hamish's voice brings Vera back to the present. "Mingle, Acolyte. It's your party, after all."

Hamish reluctantly leaves the bar. He wants to stand there longer and study Vera -- maybe some of his questions will get answered.

"Drink it all in one go or your brain will shrivel up to the size of a raisin." "Bottoms up."

Suddenly, Hamish can recall his high school locker combination. Lilith is talking about some childhood fear, Randall's complaining about a retainer, Jack's crying about a tattoo -- frankly, that part scared Hamish a little -- and then he's stunned into silence with the flood of memories.

And then he's as angry as Jack was. He's furious. But not at Vera for what she did. He's furious at her for not waiting. Waiting for him to respond, waiting to see if they could have made it work.

He's furious because now he'll never know if they could have avoided all the deaths between then and now. Maybe the Knights could have allied with the Order. Maybe the Knights could have weeded out all the bad magic in the Order. Maybe he and Vera could have done it together, made the Order what she said it could be, a secret society of magic practitioners that is dedicated to preserving and passing on the art of magic. So many maybes, so many what ifs.

A part of him wants to storm into the temple, into the reliquary and demand that Vera confess. The more rational part of him keeps him grounded to protect the fact that they have their memories.

He'd feel a little bad about planning to rob the Order blind if he wasn't so pissed at them for raiding the den. Thanks to Lilith's potion, Hamish is slowly developing burning rage at the idea of being betrayed by his own goddamn soulmate. As time passes, he's starting to forget that he used to understand her circumstances, her choices being bad or worse.

So when they come across Zecchia, he's ready for it without any hesitation.

"Bring me something in a tall glass." Okay maybe a little hesitance. Just a little.

Hamish thinks it might have been a mistake when the news about Rogwan is delivered. He realises he's gone and royally fucked up on a Jack Morton level when they find out Zecchia robbed them.

"So, what's all this talk about wolves?"

Vera's too pissed with them to register the fact that Hamish has his memories (not all, though, right?) "Where is my inventory?"

"It was . . . stolen from us." "For fuck's sake, Hamish, can't you keep track of anything in that fucking apartment?" Randall: ( ͡° ʖ ͡°) (ಠ_ಠ) what the fuck is happening here 🙃 "I am seriously considering killing both of you." "Please don't." "SHUT UP"

Rogwan taking Hamish's fear could have been incredibly catastrophic if Vera had had her phone on her around the same time Hamish got his hands on money and a phone booth, even worse if she had answered any of those calls (though to be honest, she might just have been incredibly confused about it or more accurately, Hamish might not have even dialled her number properly)

Hamish standing at the phone booth with the dial tone while Randall repeatedly tries to climb a nearby tree: I know what you did, Vera Stone. You wicked witch with a cute butt. You jacket thief, alcohol thief, heart thief-- vest thief! + stupider and stupider things until Randall eventually gets his attention again.

"I give my life to the cause to protect the Hermetic Order of the Blue Rose from threats both inside and out." "So . . . we're supposed to babysit the Grand Magus aka you?" Both Vera and Hamish shoot Jack a withering glare. Randall finds it funny and Jack is grateful for Randall.

"Is everyone okay?" Awww she cares. Stop smirking at her -- stop -- STOP IT, FACE!

As much as Hamish was internally laughing at Vera for her still harbouring her old feelings, Hamish realises that he hasn't forgotten his own instincts when it comes to Vera when he sees the Magistratus, Angus, charge at Vera.

He may have fucked several things up, but no one is allowed to harm Vera. Tundra is a Knight of the Blue Rose, but Hamish is Vera's -- it's not as if he'd have it any other way anyway.

Vera's pretty stressed, what with the impending end of the world. Hamish is waiting for Vera in the reliquary, having discovered something ... interesting about the Tartarus explosions.

"I got your text." Hamish stands, book in hand. "Yeah, I found -- . . . is wearing three different shades of black a conscious decision or--" "Shut up."

Hamish happily complies. Who cares what colours she's wearing when he's got her in his arms? For someone who doesn't like anyone kissing in the reliquary, Vera seems to be very unopposed to the idea when she and Hamish are the ones doing all the kissing.

Not that Hamish is complaining. He wouldn't ever want to stop Vera. "Wait -- wait, this isn't why I'm here." "Your text specifically said you had something big to show me." "I ... see how that can be misconstrued."

Vera glares. "Make it quick, I'm busy."

"Tease," Hamish mutters with a grin before delving into the very solid fact that the world is going to end.

"The council wouldn't listen to reason so . . . I gave them fear. Stopping Praxis is the only way to stopping these eruptions." "Or is it the only option you'll consider?" The glass hits the table hard. Hamish is beyond pissed, but he's not sure at what. Vera is clearly stuck between a rock and a hard place. Perhaps he should let her know about his first clash with pulveris memoria

"They're asking for something I can't give them." "Or won't." He knows he's being difficult but he doesn't feel guilty about it at all. He's still mildly miffed that Vera didn't think he could make the choice for himself on whether or not he wanted anything to do with the Order.

Of course, his entire demeanour changes when Alyssa shows up in the reliquary. He may be pissed and a little disappointed in Vera but that doesn't mean he's willing to let her stand in harm's way. And of course, Alyssa knocks him straight the fuck out. (I mean personally I don't like her but I have to admit, that was a smart move)

I can't fucking remember how the scene goes word-for-word but you all know it.

Hamish wakes with the gripping fear that Vera is hurt or worse, dead. As soon as he sees Vera though, he's incredibly calmer. She seems okay. She's alive.

"She took your magic." Honestly, it could have been worse. It really could have been a lot worse. But he doesn't say so because he knows magic is something that is important to Vera and he knows that she's fucking terrified -- even if she won't say.

"I imagine she, like you, finds me a selfish woman." "Vera, I don't think you're selfish. You're demanding and ... weirdly ticklish, but not selfish."

Vera thinks about all that she's put Hamish alone through. She has very many a regret in her life, but Hamish somehow seems to dominate that lost. "How can you be so sure?" "Because of all the times you could have killed the Knights but you didn't, because you wanted th-- us to live. To learn."

It's a little hard to separate Vera's soulmate from Tundra's champion, but Hamish does it. He's still a Knight, despite whatever feelings he and Vera might share. Both of them are him but not together. Not just yet.

"It's all right to let someone care about you, V." "You--" "You dropped this." Vera stands still as Hamish puts the chain over her own head. How long had he had all his memories? Said nothing? All this time, he'd kept his mouth shut -- was it for her sake? Old guilt creeps back into her.

"Maybe you are selfish, V, but not for all the reasons you think. Your selfish acts are always about protecting other people. Me, Jack, Alyssa, the Knights, the Order. Selfish doesn't mean evil."

"What's he doing here?" "We're not staying." "Yes, we are."

"No, you're not." "It's not safe." "I'm no threat to her."

Hamish really doesn't want to leave Vera alone with Alyssa. But she trusts herself so he'll trust her. Besides that, he still has to save Lilith.

When Hamish returns to the temple, chasing Midnight, Alyssa is dead and Vera is shaking.

"V, it's not your fault." How does he know exactly what she's thinking?

Hamish sets a drink, Vera's drink, in front of her and turns to leave. To give her space. To give her the choice. He drags his hand over hers. Do you want me to stay?

Vera makes no movement other than wrapping her fingers around Hamish's hand and holding fast. Yes.

And as he stands there and the doors to the reliquary closes, he glances down at Vera and realises that bad as things are, they could be worse. Vera tried so many times to push him away, but she's failed every time. And he's incredibly thankful for that.

Vera doesn't have her magic, but she's got all the colours in the world because of Hamish and somehow, that's so much more important to her.

Someone help me I'm Sad™ I wanna write this but like ,,,,, not as a full book because that would make me cry ,,,,, maybe like a nice collection of scenes 0.0 what do you think?

Take a look at other soulmate aus I've chosen to torment myself with

#hamish x vera #hamish duke #vera stone #vermish #the order #netflix #the hermetic order of the blue rose #the knights of st christopher #the knights of the blue rose #the knights of saint christopher #soulmate #soulmates au #soulmate au #please just give me the soulmate au i want #mara-writes

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thatdamnokie · 4 years

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so, as everybody knows, our man, the lovely mark strong, turned 57 this past august 5th

since the kingsman films have had a huge influence on several aspects of my day-to-day life (gee, wonder what group of people i could be referring to...), i decided to sit down and do something i’ve been thinking about since getting my medical card earlier this year: getting high as a kite and watching them back-to-back.

to celebrate mark’s birthday, i decided to do another running commentary post like the one i did for rocknrolla ages ago, under the cut. it’s a pretty similar style, which is to say not necessarily super coherent and might be hard to understand if you’ve never seen the movies. D:

there are some mentions of the roanoke society, but not many.

if even just one person finds this mildly entertaining for four seconds, then i’ll have done my job. there is a lot of cursing and this is NOT spoiler-free.

enjoy~

edited 9.1.20 to correct typos and such, please remember that i was Not Sober while i wrote this lmao

how many times have i watched these movies at this point? i don’t even know.

i always liked the nifty like—retro arcade marv opening animation

and the thing with the tapes! we love book-ending devices!

kingsman: badass motherfuckers worldwide incorporated

like why was merlin even with them? i understand why lee and james would be there, but merlin, was he not acting quartermaster then?

i have SO MANY FEELINGS about lee unwin

i think it haunts harry and merlin more than anyone thinks, but these are fun spy movies so we just don’t talk about trauma and shit, don’tcha know

don’t look at how merlin tears up and tell me he doesn’t drink about it *HEAVILY* later

it’s such a stark contrast to see the 1990s interior vs. what it’s like when eggsy’s grown :(

michelle baby i’m so sorry. you deserved better than this.

and BABY EGGSY

omg. like this scene is both heartbreaking but is also adorable.

colin firth has gd anime legs, that dude had to straight up unfold himself as he stood up lmao

aaannnnd swooping logo, whooooo, goin’ over some mountains~

and mark hamill, ladies and gentlemen!

this whole thing with james deciding to kinda go rogue makes me wish that we knew more about his backstory as well. like, is this james being james, or was this a weird one-off situation and he was just unlucky?

YES unlucky. nobody could plan for the hurricane of sleek destruction that is gazelle

who has one of my favorite aesthetic designs as a villain (although i guess i’d put her more on maybe henchman level? but idk, it seems like valentine looked at her more as a partner, less like an assistant? and they had a very interesting chemistry together too, like i would’ve added more valentine x gazelle scenes)

i would LOVE to be this chill about just—draping blankies over bodies

blankies over bodies sounds like a cool band name

DIBS you guys can’t have it

i am SO GLAD samuel l. jackson gave valentine a lisp!

valentine, to me, does fit a lot of the usual spy movie villain tropes

but since this movie doesn’t take itself super serious, it’s more fun than annoying

and we never hear about any of the other knights?? like

half of this is just gonna be me whining for additional footage that there just wouldn’t have been room for realistically lmao

michael caine, you are lovely

MARK STRONG, LADIES AND GENTLEMAN

WITH LEGS THAT DON’T QUIT AND AN ACCENT THAT I’D DIE FOR

i’m an embarrassment

like let’s all stop and thank god that mark didn’t have time to learn the welsh accent

not that i would’ve been disappointed, because all accents are good accents on this blog

but at this point i can’t imagine merlin as—not scottish

“try picking a more suitable candidate this time”

arthur you DICK

like were you this cold-blooded when lee died, you fuckin’ reptilian-ass son of a bitch

no wonder you were charlie’s pledge person thing

and enter the fabulous taron egerton, stage left!

DEAN you are DISGUSTING

god, michelle, you need better friends, if you were my bro this entire relationship would’ve never happened

;-; and eggsy’s so sweet with his sister! i know there probably wasn’t “room” for it but i AM glad that there are scenes showing that family is one of eggsy’s kinda “core values”or whatever you want to call it

dude is a hufflepuff through and through imo

can you imagine eggsy as a villain? we would be so fucked. he’s sly, he’s smart, he could’ve made life v e r y difficult for lots of people if he really wanted to

but look at him with the squad!

eggsy’s just like the british version of a good ol’ boy

this car scene is some dukes of hazzard bullshit (ramp-jumping and fun car horn aside)

if butterflies are harry’s main symbolic critter, would foxes be eggsy’s? or would it be a pug instead? i guess that’s like asking if harry would be either a butterfly or a cairn terrier, like mr. pickle. let’s say both.

this fandom is pretty on top of character associations like that

you get symbolic associations! YOU get symbolic associations! EVERYONE gets symbolic associations whether they’re actually in the canon or not! don’t have any? don’t worry, we’ll assign you at least one!

the guy playing the interviewing officer is ALSO the patriarch in the witch which i didn’t realize until—like, a while after

and it was while @circlesofbone was visiting, and we were just “oh, okay, guess we can’t escape this cast at all, this is fine”

“your father saved my life.”

harry you’re such a fucking peacock, waiting all posted up and posing so you’ll look cool

you big doofus

i’d kill to be inside his head during this first conversation with eggsy though

like is eggsy like lee? is harry seeing lee the entire time he’s talking to his son, in his mannerisms, how he carries himself, how he speaks?

or is eggsy the opposite? which—i don’t know if that would somehow be sadder?

there’s just a lot going on in the background of this bit that’s left up to interpretation

“although i’m sure it’s well-founded—“

harry’s just so casual about this entire thing, nobody’s that casual without practice

harry you rabble-rouser, what kind of life have you led

“manners. maketh. man.”

our timeless motto, my flowers

kingsman STILL to this DAY has some of the most well-choreographed fight scenes i’ve ever seen??

like yeah the church scene but even just this initial bar fight

harry could’ve been a dancer

in a way i guess he already is

like he moves so fluidly and gracefully, it is BONKERS

colin you did so good! i’m so proud!

the way eggsy’s just O.O

whether or not you ship hartwin, like, you gotta admit, that was hot

and his BODY LANGUAGE, he’s sitting like RAMROD straight, this poor dude lmao

nobody prepares you for a situation like that in public school is all i’m saying

harry, exiting stage left like a suave, smooth motherfucker

remember when iggy azalea was relevant

ugghhhh i hate this part

“I WASN’T WITH NO ONE”

can you imagine being harry hart listening to your dead friend’s son getting the shit beat out of him

like, surely he heard the cleaver, he knows dean was going to fucking gut eggsy right?

listen to how cold and icy his voice gets, oof

yeah, he’s pissed, and dean is lucky

PARKOUR

ugh, i want to go to london ;-; i want to walk in front of the shop and visit harry’s house and kiss cute english boys

i’d like to think harry’s super excited to show eggsy everything but he’s gotta keep it dialed back because “decorum”

the way eggsy pauses though

“come on.”

and he says it so softly.

if i was eggsy, i’d be nervous, too.

but i didn’t realize how quickly harry tries to give off signals like “hey there’s no reason to be scared.”

“like my fair lady?” “well, you’re full of surprises.” <3 one of my favorite sceneeesss.

harry’s voice is so soothing but eggsy is so freaked out by the elevator that he’s just—there’s no room for anything else beyond processing the elevator lmao

“how deep does this fucking thing go?” asking the real questions

aannnddd KINGSMAN BULLET TRAIN

i’d like to think they have like soft jazz or something playing in there

and then they get to the hangar and there are obviously a buuuuunch of people out on the tarmac that we just—never hear about? i just assume they’re all like technical officers or maybe other agents

“your father had the same look on his face. … as did i.”

harry is already rooting for him.

“late again, sir.”

that. brogue.

fuck, i could listen to him talk for hours, scottish accents are my favorite thing

#squadgoals

not a very diverse cast :/

the body bag speeeeech

and of course nobody was in any actual danger, but merlin doesn’t want them to know that so he becomes mr. hard as steel, i am emotionally stoic at all times, do not test me you bunch of rugrats

“classic army technique.”

ROXY

ROXY I WANT TO JUST HOLD YOU IN MY ARMS TT.TT

aannnnddd charlie, also

who we might’ve found sympathy for if we knew aaannyytthiinnggg else about his backstory

like, could he just be Like That, yeah

but most people i know who are assholes like that are that way because their parents were first /shrug/

can hardly fault the dude for turning out like that when poison was all he was given to drink

anyone else a hundred percent positive they would’ve drowned in the first trial

i would absolutely have panicked and bit it

but then again, i’m not kingsman material, i’m roanoke

and if this is the exact same test that merlin and harry went through, does that mean there might be some weird drowning trauma hidden back in there that’s just ANOTHER thing we’re not gonna talk about?

(yes the correct answer is yes)

god that’s such an american response to the problem though

glass can’t cause problems if it’s in a million pieces!

“yeah you can wipe those smirks off your faces…”

i wonder if there was ever a situation where a trainee actually drowned

and i don’t mean like amelia, i mean some poor kid who just failed the test

merlin knows how to put the fear of god in people though!

and mark strong, very handsome, yes, very scary, also yes

he and colin both look like they’re 80 percent leg in every single scene

harry literally had brain matter smatter ALL OVER HIS FACE and still somehow had the mental facilities to be aware of those dudes, leave a bomb and dive out of a window (and then escape said dudes)

billy badass, y’all

“just get it done.” okay, i took back what i said earlier, maybe he does see her as more of an assistant, less than a partner. their relationship is weird.

the puppy scene!

“it’s a bulldog innit?”

YASSSS the golden trio

because of what happened with our other canon charlie has become a weird character for me to watch, like, yeah, i “watch” charlie be himself in tss but the charlie i “see” is like—”our” charlie.

“bollocks!” and then he just runs with jb in his vest, makes me smile

aannddd we see valentine’s super cool factory

harry your hair gets so long <3

“water!” wow, who wants to bet that the fact he was instantly screaming means that maybe he’s gonna have some stuff to talk about in therapy later

roxy baby i’m sorry they made you hold the balloon and have to trust these dumbasses to not shoot you on accident

i would trust roxy to not shoot me

i love, love love valentine’s house

it’s gorgeous

set design is always such a cool way for filmmakers to include details about a character using pure aesthetics and i’m such a slut for it

tilde!

see also: one of the characters done the WORST by these movies imo!

the fact that she not only says no, she says no with enthusiasm and gets blatantly pissed, is one of the best insights we get into tilde’s character and then it just—gets wasted

like it takes three steps and then gets mowed down in the hallway like her guards

i would never be given the opportunity to be asked if i wanted an implant but i draw the line at having stuff put into my neck

awwww harry’s so proud!

that finger point “yeah, see, be more like your uncle”

merlin is SO TALL

“a bit much innit?”

he’s just—tapping a normal clipboard

… nobody wanna talk about how that’s a normal clipboard

anyway

i also love how they show him in professor sweaters for the beginning acts of the movie

definitely a softer aesthetic than one would guess for a dude who apparently did field missions sometime within the past decade or so, but i also have a theory that lee’s death directly contributed to merlin maybe being the man behind the screen as opposed to afield

because trauma is a thing but this is a FUN movie so we’re NOT gonna talk about it

“you’re gonna be all right. you’re top of the class!” this was the scene that made my mom a reggsy shipper

regardless of how you feel about them as a couple, their friendship is one of the best things about this movie, along with their dynamic with charlie, asjdnaskdjna WHY could we not have had a trio movie instead

eggsy you show-off “lemme just throw my arms up and dip outta this plane like it’s not a big deal”

roxy you can do it!

ugh, there goes my baby, off to have a near-death experience under merlin’s immediate supervision lmao

“good girl, rox, glad you made it!”

guys, they’re just kids.

i love this big group scene because it reminds us that these are just young folks, still

“my, my, you’re all very cheerful...”

“rufus, come on!” dude eggsy—and not even just eggsy, charlie and rox too--at least made an attempt at teamwork. you get points for that bro

but man, for all they know, they’re about to beef it in a very permanent way, i’d be freaking out too

merlin getting caught up in the drama

because again, he’s supposed to know that eggsy has a parachute

i think he wasn’t prepared for these two to get that close to not making it and that’s why we see him break face and drop his mug

*WHAM*

i HATE the sound of them landing

it’s not like you can hear bones breaking but it hurts me, guys

and then there were three

plus one daddy long legs quartermaster

“if you have a complaint you come here and you whisper it in my ear.”

yes SIR

“you need to take that chip off your shoulder.”

merlin coming’ in with the tough love portion of the kingsman core squad

there’s no reason for me to think harry’s persona was inspired by cruella de ville somehow but i do anyway

she reveals the mcdonald’s and valentine is just :D

idk if he was expecting a specific reaction or was just excited to see a reaction period

valentine is definitely a fun villain, which, given the tone of the movie, makes sense, it’s all supposed to be fun

one of the reasons i love kingsman is that it’s like, this golden ray of goofy cinematic fuckery in a world of grim!dark remakes and other superhero/spy films who are presented as more serious stories

“and thank you for such a—happy, meal.”

harry got a puppy smile

but see, then, here at his house he’s a lot more relaxed with gazelle! like, patting her butt, etc.

maybe what we see of their relationship is dependent on setting, because valentine himself has it compartmentalized?

perrrrrrhaps

“and i am never, EVER GOING TO AGREE!”

tilde, you deserved better, and i think all the weird hate you get from our ohana is unfair

you don’t twist a runner’s ankle before the race starts and then get mad when they don’t win

your story was mishandled from the beginning

asmr: hanging out with the golden trio watching worrying news in the kingsman trainee bunker room

the way he says “biblical sense” lmao

i have never been able to figure out if the way he says that line is supposed to infer spiritual respect, or lack of it, but i might be looking too into it

“it’s an acquired taste, mate.”

what—what would you even do if you were at a club and three people as hot as taron, ed and sophie all came up and start talking to you at the same time

like i know the target got up and left pretty quick because of the training exercise

but i’d be doing it because i’m ugly and if three hot people are all talking me up at a bar something is Bad and Wrong

which—the CAHONES on both eggsy and roxy

they both literally said “yeah i’m willing to die for this organization that hasn’t even given me a permanent place yet, what of it”

look at harry’s dimples in this scene, he is fighting a huge grin, he’s SO PROUD

i know that charlie’s response is supposed to be just more fodder into the “charlie hesketh is a tool” fire

but given that i’m not unconvinced that his home life wasn’t super shitty, like—

idk, this makes this scene a lot less fun to me. it makes it sad.

like, maybe charlie didn’t even want to be there deep down, maybe this was all for like, arthur, or his dad, or some other person he looked up to

and the way merlin looks when he tells charlie to go home, the way that he’s kinda grimacing? i’m wondering if he’s along the same kind of feeling. he’d know more about charlie’s history

have i also mentioned how much i love harry’s war room?

“YES harry!”

an evil plan is being born!

“true nobility is being superior to your former self.”

eggsy is still in his club clothes, so like—has he slept? y’all let those kids sleep after fucking drugging them, right? … guys?

“—when one is popping ones cherry.”

and eggsy is just CHEESING he is SO EXCITED

am i the only one who wants to learn more about the store clerk guy though?

he’s like the one person around who’s legit just there to run the shop

has no idea about any of the spy stuff happening

his name is donald, he’s married with three children and has two spaniels he loves

“THAT is sick.”

i would KILL for this room.

i don’t need anything in here for any reason but still

foreshadowing, foreshadowing, foreshadowing, more foreshadowing—

harry is such a NERD

“put it back, eggsy.”

the amount of self-control it would take to not have a sudden change in expression in that moment, omg

i wonder how THAT gets trained up in kingsman

“i guarantee it.” ha, get it, it’s a reference to that one commercial

“y’all—talk so funny.”

and this all means that they had a contact at that hat shop and got all that info to them before valentine got there, and somehow made sure he did end up buying a hat that they could also successfully put a bug on, how deep does this goooooo

“jack bauer?”

it says a lot about eggsy that out of all the jb’s it could’ve been, it was jack

uggghhhhhh of course they HAD to do this scene with eggsy with arthur

obviously harry couldn’t do it

i just think most of us would NOT be fans of arthur at this point in the movie, we’re all rooting for eggsy, like, he needs this moment with this other character because we gotta drive home that he’s an asshole

also—would have absolutely failed that test

and i’m not sorry at all

“welcome to kingsman--lancelot.”

i was really happy that it was a female agent who ended up getting the handle

aannddd more echoes of past scenes, man, nobody can say that this crew wasn’t intentional with their cinematography

when eggsy rolls the window down you can see his chest moving up and down, like, he is MAD

dean you asshole

so no wonder he gets so pissed that the car suddenly decides “nope, no, we’re not doing this, c’mon”

this entire conversation at harry’s house is—tense

and you don’t pick up on it the first time, i don’t think, but uh

i’m seeing it now

harry’s not just mad, he’s hurt, and eggsy’s furious but he’s also maybe regretting his actions.

it’s these two men who are rapidly trying to figure out their headspaces and trying to figure out how to navigate this situation with each other

and the way eggsy tries to apologize ;-;

kentucky is a beautiful state, actually

ohhhhhh y’alllll

we’re at the churrrccchhhh

we’re gettin’ closer to the coolest part of the movieeeee

it’s telling that gazelle was trying to make sure that they’d be safe

“… so hail satan, and have a lovely afternoon madame.”

the most metal lines colin firth has ever uttered on camera

the siren noise after it’s switched on bothers me in a way i can’t quite articulate

it might be because i have silent hill-colored trauma, who knows

FREEEEEE

BIIIRRRDDDDDDD

THE GREATEST ACTION TRACKING SHOT IN THE HISTORY OF CINEMA

but then eggsy and merlin are reacting aaaanndddd it’s—a lot less fun

because you realize that they’re watching their bro mercilessly slaughter innocent people and not stopping

and still not stopping

but plot twist, i’m really glad they kept the track going, because if they’d suddenly picked *this* part of the scene to get serious, that would’ve brought the mood down so low that i don’t think there would’ve been any bouncing back

i just

how do people exist who aren’t attracted to harry hart

that man is a machine

and colin worked so hard to be able to do the scene himself, and that work SHOWS, that man cuts a FIGURE

i don’t know how they managed to somber it up just the right amount, either? maybe because they waited for the “fun action sequence” to be over so there wouldn’t need to be noise that had to be masked by a fun rock track?

“… what did you do to me.”

i cannot imagine what harry was feeling in that moment.

the way he spoke it was like he didn’t even have time to be afraid to die

“that tends to happen when you shoot somebody in the head. feels good, right?”

“no, it does not feel good!”

i love that exchange because we normally hear the opposite.

also—whiplash.

mark has this way of expressing grief without showing any—blatant signs.

like merlin’s not especially tearful, or crying, but his eyes look MASSIVE. and SAD. and he has just the tiiiiiniest tremor in his voice.

and eggsy, dude, like, we’ve all had it come on us really quick and suddenly it’s like your chest is pumping like a piston and when did it get so hard to breathe?

ARTHUR you REPULSE me

like look at how egssy’s shoulders sag when he realizes that arthur isn’t on his team

and in a way, this is eggsy’s final test as a kingsman trainee, imo

do you realize how quickly he had to assess what was happening and figure out what to do, all without arthur noticing?

“you are all alone. it is all up to you. remember all you have learned. good luck.”

it’s a very—almost horror-esque situation from that pov

and he passed with flying colors to go on his first true mission, because after he puts on the suit, that’s his visual cue of graduating, if that makes sense

that’s the knight putting on his armor.

“i’d rather be with harry. thanks.”

“so be it.”

*click*

me: *laughing at arthur’s big dumb stupid head*

… man i’d love a replica of that decanter and glasses set though

not to mention that eggsy recognized the flaws in arthur’s character and weaponized them, which is a whole other level of shit that isn’t necessarily easy; he knew that arthur carried the kind of pride that would leave him open

god, he looks so exhausted though when rox has him at gunpoint.

i think he was being pretty serious, about harry

sick helipaaaaaaad

that thing looks vaguely like a rock-‘em sock-‘em robot but in pieces though

more grandpa sweaters <3

man. you can see roxy swallow, you know she’s scared, but then she just sets her jaw and—

roxy baby you are the best i love you

i like the vintage vibe of the mountain lair

i think that’s another visual poke at the aesthetic themes of some of the older, og spy flicks out there

merlin looks SO LANKY walking back to the plane for some reason??

he stays until the last second for roxy. that’s love right there.

“a bespoke suit always fits.”

which can be good spiritual life advice too but that’s a separate conversation

“what the fuck is WRONG with you people?”

and his fuckin’ disco ball

uuggggghhhhh his speech reminds me of so many… “public figures” that i dislike

even though it’s obviously a bad thing that the chips are everywhere, i appreciate that phones and such are being shown in a positive manner (like, michelle talking to someone in the park, people at a ball game taking selfies, people at the beach, etc.) because i get so sick of that anti-tech boomer humor tbh

and the big reveal of eggsy in his suitttt

A KNIGHT IS BORN

“how’s the view?”

“hideous.”

you’re allowed to be crabby baby, you just let it out.

“lookin’ good, eggsy.”

“feelin’ good, merlin.”

merlin is so calm heading into the fortress and i don’t know if it’s because he’s very, very good at compartmentalizing and that’s genuinely how he is at the moment or if he’s that way through extreme self-control and effort

he can rock a pilot’s uniform though

just like eggsy can rock a suit

they’re both so handsome, help

i also wonder how eggsy’s feeling right then

like, i’d imagine that the pressure of having to perform a role to literally save the world would be enough to distract him from the bite of grief

that’s—probably enough to distract everyone, tbh

i a hundred percent believe there are breakdowns we don’t see

i wonder if eggsy told tilde he’d spoken to lindstrum(sp?) after everything was said and done

like, that’d be some kind of weird foreshadowing in hindsight

this scene is anxiety-inducing in a big way so to distract myself i imagine roxy as a mech pilot

dude i’d totally watch sophie in a role like that, like, let her be in a movie like pacific rim, she’d kick ass

and now we have The Chaos

otherwise known as that point when Everything Is Happening All At Once All The Time

also a thing that doesn’t exist in spy movies: hearing damage

because like his voice is right in eggsy’s ear and without it he’d have a LOT harder time surviving

imagine being an agent, merlin trying to talk to you, but something either hits your ear or goes off right next to it and suddenly it’s just silent

SYSTEM FAILURE

YAAASSSSS

WE WIN

GGOOOAAAAALLLLLL

THE AUDIENCE IS DOING THE WAVE

except JUST KIDDING

The Chaos 2 Electric Boogaloo!

merlin with a huge gun: hot, also, very scary

eggsy is just 10000% done

“this is mine. i’ll show you yours.”

i wonder who e man was supposed to be that valentine called.

like is that a reference to a real person that i just did’t catch?

… elon musk? maybe? idk

eggsy slides like a gd anime character

when he uses the rainmaker, it’s just like harry’s protecting him from somewhere else

(oh—wait, technically kentucky, i guess)

“merlin, i’m fucked.” you can hear the anger there. not only did he fail, but he—and everyone else—is about to die

but this? this is the pinnacle of eggsy showing himself as a kingman agent

he was staring death straight in the mouth and STILL

SOMEHOW

REMEMBERED THE IMPLANTS

so i guess if i say that the moment when he puts on the suit is when he becomes a true agent, then maybe this is the moment when he becomes galahad.

*bobs head to pomp & circumstance*

i remember getting a huge kick out of how colorful they made this

because in real life you know a bunch of people literally blowing up would be like—DISGUSTING

viscera everywhere

no fun rainbow mushroom clouds

“i’ve always wanted to kiss a princess.”

ANOTHER knight reference, very clever matthew

mmmmm Do Not Like that noise

aaaannndddd *that* line

which—maybe that’s mr. vaughn’s sense of humor, or what he thinks the sense of humor his core demographic has, idk

but it always kinda rubbed me the wrong way

the mass brawl scenes are edited so like--jarringly compared to the other fight scenes in the movie

that’s probably for a reason

also, a showdown to the tune of something disco: kind of another trope homage

this shot of gazelle is so sick, i love everything about it, she is so cool

this entire fight with eggsy is awesome tbh

we got a little bit of what gazelle can look like in combat earlier with tilde’s guards, but now we get this epic showdown seeing her at her full potential against someone who’s actually a challenge

and the way valentine is shouting for her to kick his ass from upstairs and yelling encouragement lmao that’s how real friends act when there’s a fight

daisy ;-; ugh, that’s the visual gutpunch that makes it juuuuuust serious enough by reminding us of the stakes

which is why it’s fitting that then we see the Slo-Mo K.O.

and that smile with the fun little chimes in the back, lmao

and eggsy, quick on his feet again byyyy being quick on gazelle’s feet—foot—whatever

man, impalement deaths are always fun.

coulda done without the vomiting but that’s also one of valentine’s quirks that makes him different from a cookie cutter villain

aaannddd have a heavy sigh from merlin

that dude needs a full-body massage and a drink

“is this where you say some really bad pun?”

reminder: i love that this movie is self-aware! i could not picture a super serious kingsman movie! i just picture something depressing!

there had to have been a better option besides—this, for this eggsy/tilde ending scene

i’m not saying i’m mad it ended with them fucking, i’m mad that the extent of the joke was anal and that was it.

also the idea of my boss possibly seeing me having sex would have me a little more concerned about the hardware on my face, but okay??

aannddd the tapes.

gah, we love visual throwbacks!

we love being able to see that despite all this growth and change, family remains very important to eggsy—he hasn’t changed into a different person, he has grown more into himself than ever before! THIS! THIS is eggsy unwin!

… GET READY FOR IT

time for tgc! (and to get into my roanoke feels, maybe, this is the nexus where our canons connect)

the BAGPIPES

okay

i did not stop to consider how unpleasant this was going to be to watch stoned but we’re gonna power through it and get through it together

if i cry i cry

the way the music swells into the main theme <3

and the perfect reveal for our boy eggsy!

reflected in gold, looking sharper than broken glass

and SUDDENLY CHARLIE

the pacing in tgc leads me to believe that matthew had huge plans for this movie, and a lot of cool stuff probably ended up on the cutting room floor for time

i also love that they brought charlie back

i love his voice box and his cool robot arm

and i’m not just saying that because it made it super easy to blend him into our canon, either, this is like—charlie’s evil twin in terms of his new aesthetic, the contrast is really cool

YYAASSSS THIS SCENE

WITH PRINCE PLAYING??

*CHEF’S KISS*

like we are IMMEDIATELY thrown back into the gold parts of it all, like how physics is a little broken so we can do cool shit like have a knockdown drag-out fight all within the space of a small cab

i wonder what would’ve hurt charlie worse—being thrown onto his organic side, or having all his weight land on his metal arm if it hadn’t disattached

but then he’s up and standing so i guess we’re fine?

MERLIN! <3

otherwise known as the character entrance that literally changed my life

i try not to think about it too much or i get weirded out

ANYWAY

(and to think i almost never even saw the movie)

Sick Car Chase, Bro

and as an american, like, everything’s on the opposite side to me, it’s stressful to watch a little bit

“i seem to remember in your training you were rather good at holding your breath.”

man, that’s uh—kind of a macabre thing to say, merlin

just a little bit

i’m not even gonna attempt to hold my breath to see if i’d survive this scene just assume i’m dead in that universe

we all live in a kingsman subarmine, a kingsman submarine, a kingsman submarine~~

“not boasting, but i trained him well enough that even he wouldn't mess that up.”

merlin are you okay??

gah, i love that chest-deep laugh though.

is it real love if they won’t crawl through the sewer to get to your house in time

i love that harry’s house looks basically the same

i know they talk about eggsy not wanting to change anything in the novelization but i haven’t read it yet so I’m not a hundred percent sure what all is in there

and we still get to see him hanging with his friends, and his girlfriend, like, this dude is still all about the family

“wwwwOOOOO!”

i love this group so much omg

for as much as he’s galahad, he’s still eggsy

the transition in the weed bag looks super cool

… oh, i guess watching this while high makes the main storyline hit a bit different

welp

i love that poppy is an aesthetic slut and really doesn’t give a shit about anyone’s opinion about how she makes her space

like, “i want a big 50s-style diner with a gourmet kitchen that i can cook people in, soooooo i’m getting one”

it’s also refreshing to see julianne moore in a bad guy role!

not that i’m super familiar with her filmography but i feel like i’ve mostly seen her cast as like a good guy?

i could be wrong

awwwww jet and bennie!

there’s so much to love about this set

cannibalism and the fact that she bulldozed jungle to build all this aside (suspend that belief!)

the breakfast sceeeeeene

it’s so bittersweet, for obvious reasons

and it’s more evidence that he’s not super ready to move on into new territory yet, like making new memories with tilde that ring close to home

“i wish i could have met him.”

and the way he has to turn away, ugh.

eggsy. i’m sorry.

tilde, i’m sorry, too. you had good intentions, but they lost against his pain.

michael gambdon! the new arthur we didn’t know we wanted until we got him.

charlie had a moral glo-down, it’s fine, happens to everybody

FFFFFF his imitation of merlin lmfao

man, poor charlie, like

you wake up, you can’t make a sound, your arm has been blown off and your family’s dead

like his reaction to that entire scenario isn’t entirely unrealistic, i’m just saying

also LOOK AT ROX

omg everyone in this movie can wear the FUCK out of suit, y’all

man, i’ve gotten a few tattoos that were exquisitely painful—i can’t imagine how much it would suck to do it with literal molten metal

dude this means clara laid on her stomach and probably screamed at the floor as she got hers D:

this kinda—riffs off of hannibal, a teeny-tiny bit

like we’re so overloaded with the aesthetics and behavior of a certain character so it’s like, we forget about the much darker parts untillllll there’s a mood change and we’re looking at that dude’s legs, to the burger this other dude puts in his mouth, and thinking “oh, oh dear, ew”

i love eggsy in the orange jacket <3 snaps for the wardrobe crew across this series.

tilde’s face, omg, she was heart-eyeing so bad. and like, that little proud nod at her dad (who was of course being Like That on purpose)

and roxy, coming in in the clutch, you are tonight’s MVP

uggghhhhh i hate this part

because again, it’s just--a bunch of bad shit colliding outside of anyone’s control

(it was also really jarring seeing the war room with blank walls the first time i watched this)

like—granted, you should maybe not touch stuff that’s not yours, but…

like we *just* saw eggsy and brandon in a very casual, intimate scene with each other, how can anyone get angry with brandon?

this is all stress-inducing

i remember being in the theater watching this and feeling like i was watching some awful slow motion car wreck and i couldn’t look away

idk what other story i would’ve wanted to see but i was NOT a fan of Sudden Death For Christmas, especially concerning roxy!

and poppy is such a *bright* villain, not just because of taste but because of her personality, which is another weird thing to have next to the cannibalism

gaaahhhh charlieeee your arm is so cooooool

this shot is gorgeous and incredibly depressing.

what do you do?

gah, and the way merlin comes out of the dark, like

i probably would’ve drawn a gun on him too

“you think *i* would?”

this scene shows 1. how much he trusts eggsy to not shoot him, and/or 2. how good merlin is at compartmentalizing, because this is an even bigger blow than harry’s death, and he’s following the protocol like it’s an art form

i hope that we see some reference to this safe in the next movie, that’d be a cool way to tie the narratives all together

“i suppose that must be upper class humor. … i don’t get it.”

reminder, merlin is working class.

if you’re a ho for this fandom and went and bought this whiskey specifically because of this movie clap your hands *clap clap*

and they proceed to just get HAMMERED

“country rooaaddsss… take me hoooooome…”

another reminder: kentucky is a beautiful state!

i would love to tour a whiskey distillery, that’d be super cool

“shame it’s not scotch”

again, with his weird night vale clipboard.

who would win: two highly-trained kingsman agents vs. one (1) cowboy

channing tatum, ladies and gentlemen!

“y’all look damn sharp!”

i am forever gonna be mad we didn’t get more of tequila in this movie, and not just because of roanoke either, but like, “that dog don’t hunt,” whatever he has in his mouth sealed a leak in a barrel, and it took him all of two minutes to incapacitate both eggsy AND merlin? hello??

i’m glad we’ll get to see more of him in the another movie.

“you know why the measurement of alcohol is called proof?”

just dumping it on their laps, so disrespectful

“—and you can go fuck yourself.”

eggsy fucking just giggling.

these two doofuses

also it’s hot to see merlin be sassy ngl

“HARRY!”

these guys have been fast thinkers in stressful situations but as it turns out, people being unexpectedly not dead can kinda fuck with your day

aaannddd halle berry, everybody! i love ginger ale omg

(and so does merlin, he is instantly enchanted)

;-; this reunion scene

i don’t know how colin manages to be two completely different people at once

like there’s a huge difference between former agent galahad and harry hart the lepidopterist and i can’t explain it

i really, really hope we see at least one little hint at kinsman’s relationship with statesman in the new movie, i just think it’d be really cool

in roanoke canon, there’s an office rumor that the nanobot tech used by statesman was influenced directly by the same technology developed by dr. wernicke in the outlast games. i still think it’s one of my better crossover ideas.

also

god bless whoever decided to get elton john involved with all this?? because i was DELIGHTED

i love poppy’s wardrobe as much as i love her weird 50s-land in the jungle

i also really love the main statesman theme? it reminds me of all those fun epic westerns

jeff bridges! :D

champ vaguely reminds me of my dad

“can you imagine us in the tailor business?”

and he’s super quick with the questions. my headcanons for champ are all over the place but one that i really like is that he was maybe a sheriff or in law enforcement before being recruited by statesman.

aaanndddd pedro pascal, everybody!

otherwise known as *another* character that this movie did dirty, that’ll probably come up in this later

imagine being harry hart, not remember all of yourself, and suddenly your entire room just—fills with water

that had to have been so terrifying, and it was just as hard for merlin to watch (and possibly remember something unpleasant)

and like

that sounds like SUCH bullshit, too, like “yeah we thought if you came close to drowning it would help”

which, is that what merlin meant, no, but is that what harry heard, probably

enter jb the second ;-; <3 sweet baby

tilde’s trying so hard. i see you!

aha, penis jokes.

and all of the unnecessary weird festival stuff, uuggghh

there are so many different things they could have done, like, all of this is just weird from the get-go

first of all, whiskey striking out? hello?? saying no to a man like mr. pascal???

not realistic

the way whiskey takes a shot as he walks away lmao, relatable

and poor clara, like, it’s not like she was asking for any of this D:

hmmmmmmm don’t know how i feel being a stoner watching other stoners get this blue rash thing when i know it kills some of themmmmmmm

i love charlie in his newsboys cap!

poppy has a little bit of a point. like, booze is way more dangerous than pot, as is tobacco. like i would never advocate anyone try meth or heroin, but i think weed and some hallucinogenics get bad wraps.

seeing a dude get torn in half in the reflection of elton john’s sunglasses is the surprising bit of gore we need to remember that oh, yeah, the villain isn’t fun, she’s a murderer

uuggghhhh the TENT SCENE

and, look, i’ll defend tilde forever, but i did NOT like the weird marriage ultimatum. i still think it’s a dick move, like, in that situation either decide to trust your boyfriend or break up with him

the tent interior is super cool-looking

and like, man, he tried, he tried to bounce D:

/sigh/ work hazards, i guess

mmmmmm we don’t need any of what’s happening on screen right now so i’ll just sit patiently and wait for it to be over

and like, there’s nothing funny about merlin and ginger being able to hear everything that’s going on, it’s so grosssss, poor ginger has to have heard some shit before to be so nonchalant about it

everything about this sucks

and then he tries going to the one person who he needs the most and having to deal with him still existing in some state between alive and dead

his body is here

but harry is not

“maggots turn into flies, perhaps you mean larvae!” :D he is SO CUTE

but this entire conversation, with harry still not remembering and eggsy trying so hard to reach him through the fog, is so depressing

like, i’d need a drink too

*and* a joint

i’m seeing my coping mechanisms on screen here folks

the way he comes up with the idea is kinda ingenious though

like, he’s looking at stuff to make himself bummed on purpose, but therein he finds the thing he needs to fix the issue

harry’s smile when eggsy hands him the puppy TT.TT

and then eggsy just becomes a stone cold motherfucker with no emotions

“no one’s sick enough to shoot a puppy!”

hi, flashback!harry

and as SOON as he remembers himself, it’s like his eyes are different, something about him looks like it did before kentucky

“… eggsy.”

one of my favorite movie hugs

and eggsy has to stand on his tiptoes because harry’s so tall

like yeah merlin and harry’s reunion isn’t as overtly emotional, but there’s definitely a sense of joy and relief there.

harry my baby ;-; much better with the sunglasses (and merlin was so close to telling him he looked spectacular)

“now is that any way to welcome a visit from outta town, moonshine?”

he! tried! to! defend! harry!

i hate that jack got a villain story line!

we could’ve had something so much better and infinitely more compelling!

“hurrrr durrrr morgan you just like redemption arcs because you don’t want anybody being a villain permanently” i also like them because sometimes that’s better writing, y’all sit down

“that is NOT what i call a kentucky welcome.”

i love so many things happening in this scene, like

we get to see whiskey kick ass, like yassss gimme those sweet action sequences and give us some character development by showcasing his fighting style

and also NOBODY shits on harry for not being able to handle the situation. both eggsy and merlin were like “dude we’re still celebrating the fact that you’re alive tbh it’s fine if you’re not back up to speed right this second”

you can really tell that this was penned by british people writing american slang because having grown up in the southern half of the u.s. i have never ONCE heard ANYONE say shit like “i feel like a tornado in a trailer park” lmao

and poppy’s fun little death threat infomercial, so great

“what have you done to me you FUCKING BITCH” oof, that’s a mood

!!!!! gonna be honest i kinda forgot that bruce greenwood plays the president

okay but save lives, legalize isn’t an entirely bad idea tbh

hnnnnnnng the scenes about people not being able to get into the hospital hits different in the year of our lord 2020 huh

… y’all i’m being weirded out by all this hospital scenes, this is unpleasant

i, too, wish i could pull a tequila and just be slipped into a chilly coma until shit wasn’t so fucked up

“the fact is, this presidency has won the war on drugs!”

THIS SCENE!

look, y’all can come into my inbox and call me a pothead, or a lazy stoner, or some third insult, but this dude’s VP is bringing up some very, VERY important points when it comes to any kind of discussion about drug use in the u.s.

am i drug-friendly, sure, but i’m more friendly to the notion that we stop demonizing addicts/users

harry looks fucking SCANDALIZED when he sees champ spit into his spittoon thing

i don’t think whiskey even brought up harry not being ready to return to the field in an insulting manner, he literally just saw him get his ass beat in a bar, but eggsy’s faith and loyalty are up there in the category of unstoppable force/immovable object, so here we are

am i the only one curious about the whole charlie x clara thing? because he’s definitely grown up a bit by tgc, and i wanna know how much of that might be because of clara

and he MISSES, e for effort harry

“so sorry about this—“ WHAM

and now that guy can say colin firth busted his face with a fire extinguisher, which is very cool

“*you’re* wu ting feng?” “… yes?”

“you motherFUCKER” ohhhhhh charlie maaaaaad

ginger and merlin though, #couplegoals

the only person more pissed off about the hallucinations than everyone else is harry

imagine remembering that you’re one of the top people in your field and you just keep seeing imaginary butterflies everywhere

like, yeah, i’d be pissed at not being able to do what i knew i was capable of, too

if it wasn’t careening towards a random retirement center, getting stuck in a wildly rotating gondola thing could be fun

nice tuesday afternoon activity

i would loved to have seen more galahad/whiskey field stuff

“you’ve got to be fucking kidding me—“

meanwhile, in the continuing adventures of eggsy and jack: shit goes from bad to worse like a formal spiral only going downward

their expressions as their both just SCREAMING always make me laugh

”that’s the first decent shit i’ve had in three weeks.” <- as does that line, that old dude’s just telling it like it is

eggsy’s comment about the antidote just reminds me of when boromir looks a the ring and says something like “all this for such a tiny thing”

dun dun DUN what are THOSE? hints that whiskey may not be who we think he is??

great. so excited about that. i say, rolling my eyes into the sun

“i’ll fix their wagons.” no one says that matthew!

i. love. this. scene. because now we get cool gun tricks AND the second most metal thing that happens with a lasso in this movie (we’re coming up on the most metal thing)

like please please PLEASE show us more lasso tricks in the statesman movie

“well thank fuckin’ christ i didn’t need any backup.” i wonder if whiskey’s acting angrier than he actually is to throw off the fact that he might’ve caught harry’s glance at him betraying suspicion

RIP jack

imagine the timeline where whiskey was never a bad guy and harry hart just blew a dude away for NO REASON

now THAT would be an interesting movie

because harry and eggsy, for all they went through in the first film, never had a conflict where it was harry in the position of mangling the ropes up

but of course eggsy would never, never tell merlin what happened because he’s still ultimately on harry’s team

damn, charlie, literally blowing up your girlfriend seems kinda extreme

“THIS is vital!”

and here we get to see the biggest difference between merlin and ginger

now, i know there’s extra stuff in the novelization about their relationship and i can’t talk about it because i have no idea what’s in the book

but!

i DO still headcanon as merlin quitting fieldwork after lee’s death

his comment is either what he genuinely believes, or maybe what he fashioned his beliefs into after stepping down from his field role, and ginger is just as sincere in her desire to break into that aspect of working for statesman

it’s like seeing the same character but in two points in time, and it’s really cool

that balance would’ve also been a fun aspect of their romantic relationship to explore but alas! ’twas not to be

colin and mark could both play slenderman

look at those limbs.

gracious.

also this facetime scene with eggsy and tilde T.T

that has to be so terrifying to watch when you know the steps of death and what they look like as they get closer

but it also puts a fire under eggsy though

“i’m leaving with, or without you.”

and of course they’re both gonna go because that’s NOT characteristic eggsy behavior based off of how we know he views family/squad

that’s how they know he’s being for cereal

uugggggGGHHHH and THAT FORESHADOING

stacey pruitt, attorney at lawwwww

hmmmmmmmmm

what does this conversation between poppy and the president remind me of

gonna just sigh into the void

and now we have harry and eggsy on the jet along with the BIGGEST LIE harry hart has ever told in his LIFE

kingsman and statesman aesthetics at least tend to be the same color schemes. lotta golds, yellows. browns.

eggsy, yeah, it’s a bummer your gf dumped you, but this relationship wasn’t very well-developed or written so i’m not as bummed as i could be

“… and in that moment, all i felt was loneliness and regret.”

harry shut the FUCK UP

you felt NOTHING??

you weren’t thinking of, gee, i dunno, EGGSY? or MERLIN?? your MOM???

like these lines from him just seem to come out of left field and i can’t even halfway suspend my belief long enough to come close to believing him

like mr. hart you just gonna be like that in front of jesus and everybody????

so, yeah, of course he’s on board with saving tilde! because he recognizes (apparently just right that second) that “having something to lose is what makes life worth living”

and i don’t know if they felt like there need to be some weird, deeply contrasting reason for harry to swing around to being in support? or something?

i’m forever pissed about this characterization and i don’t even know if i’m expressing my anger in a way that makes it easy to understand lmao this is fine, i’m fine, literally not a single person in this fandom ever believed those lines anyway, it’s fine

moving on

... and even if they WERE true then honestly that just makes me more excited about butterfly knife, because that means that harry acknowledged both the bad side of the coin, and also the side with rae on it (which would mean seeing her for who she was and also recognizing his feelings for what THEY were) and drew the ultimately correct conclucision that love! is! always! worth! it! let that shit in like a welcome guest in the home of your heart, and they will stay as long as you let them!

as SOON as he wakes up ginger looks a thousand percent done lmao

and the “process” that they use to wake people up or whatever is—interesting

because all it is, is trauma turned into a tool which is kind of a weird concept to see in a “fun spy movie” imo

and this is one of what i feel were like only what, two? glimpses we get into whiskey’s Tragic Backstory

and the other scene isn’t a glimpse it’s just straight up exposition in his dialogue :/

jack, i’m sorry, you deserved better than this as a character

i’m sure the name “silver pony” is a reference to something but i don’t know what

“lookin’ GOOD merlin!” “feelin’ good, eggsy.”

ladies and gentlemen when i tell you that i lost my pool-noodle mind seeing him put on that suit watching this in a theater, i--

ANYWAY

because now that i have the horrible burden of having seen these movies a million times

i know it’s more symbolic

he stays in sweaters so long, as an agent of the background, because he walked a man to his death

so it figures when he puts the armor back on for the first time in ages

he walks to his own

uuuggghhhh the minesweeper

i hate this

i hate it

i hate everything about the feelings i’m having while this is happening

*beep-beep*

“you move, we die.”

i HATE IT

but like, i don’t know, how preferable is this to the end scene we almost got, which was merlin dragging his newly-legless corpse through a doggy door?

because it’s been literally multiple years and i still have no fucking idea

they’re both horrible in their own terrible, awful ways

damn, matthew, it’s not often someone manages to come up with multiple versions of a thing and have every version be so gut-wrenchingly horrific, i’m truly impressed and completely disgusted

“do as your told!”

god

everyone just going through twenty shades of Bad Feelings in the space of fifteen seconds here in the jungle

and colin and taron do this thing where it’s like—their eyes go dead? like, there was a light here, it’s gone now

it SUCKS

oh no

ALMOST HEAVEN

WEST VIRGINIA

… fuck

LIFE IS OLD THERE

OLDER THAN THE TREES

“… singing?”

this sucks.

this sucks this sucks this sucks

MOUNTAIN MAMAAAAA

TAKE ME HOOOOME

COUNTRY ROOOADDSSSSS

*THUNK*

and he even took off his glasses before he hit him, he had his end coming towards him and he was still a gentleman

TAKE ME HOOOME

COUNTRY RROOOOAAAADDDSSSSS

his EYES AT THE END

FUCK

… okay i had to get up and go for a lil’ walk

anyway

(and again, roanoke canon, fucking fixing’ shit left and right, because we’re the goat)

harry and eggsy look MURDEREROUS

MERLIN SAID KNOCK YOU OUT

it DID make the grand ending fun action scene a lot more satisfying

because like, without merlin there, that means harry and eggsy get to go full feral

poppy you big idiot you just robbed them of all their motivation to show any kind of restraint and now everybody’s gonna get blown up

except for those dudes who get kicked by elton john

which would be an HONOR first of all

(the part where eggsy’s using his gun and shield vaguely reminds me of the specialist, @bloodofthepen)

and harry and eggsy just—they’re drift compatible! that’s it! the teamwork! the grace! the flow! my god!

eggsy vs. charlie: round like 4 if you count the first movie

it was also satisfying to see charlie’s new arm in action

we love fun robotics and gadgetry in this house

colin firth is really just not afraid to throw himself full force down a bowling lane huh

ugh, seeing charlie slam eggsy over and over again makes my chest hurt

the sound mixing on all these films is top notch which isn’t always a good thing T.T

ROCKETMAN~~~

that shit will never NOT be funny

a wild elton john appeared!

eggsy is indestructible, he can walk off anything

but charlie, charlie i feel really sorry for, imagine being attacked by a superior version of your own limb, i.e. something that you can’t exactly quickly remove from yourself, that would be TERRIFYING

harry + elton = dream teaaaammmm

“darling if you save the world, you can have a backstage pass.”

i love you elton john :(

i would have been the most OBNOXIOUS hype man in the background of the entire kingsman vs. poppy land face-off

“let’s make this fair.” eggsy you’re fuckin’ cheeky

and poor harry, all that lank just getting tossed like noodles

i thought the robot puppers were very cool

“for the record charlie i’m more of a gentleman than you’ll ever be.”

mmmmmm do NOT like this death for charlie

SUPER glad we fixed it

and another scene where i can’t stand the sound mixing T.T it makes me cringe every time

“i don’t consider genocide especially lady-like.”

and are we gonna talk about how merlin knew how to make heroin?

… no?

nobody wanna talk about that?

ugh that houndstooth dress is so PRETTY though

high!poppy is weirdly comedic for all of two seconds and then it stops being funny real fast

whiskey D:<

this is so dumb

this is all so, so dumb

“our agencies were founded to uphold peace, to protect the innocent—“

there’s that nobility again

is what happened to whiskey fucked up, yes

i’m not saying we have to completely remove that from his story

i just

literally anything but this would have been preferable

and then HOT DOG it’s one of my favorite shots in the movie with the whip where harry’s just chucking it away from his face like a bamf, YES

how great is this cover, let’s be honest

like, i’d be lying if i said i didn’t enjoy this scene visually

plus

HARRY GETTING PEGGED RIGHT IN THE FACE WITH A FRYING PAN

gracious

it’s one fluid tracking shot, so kinda in alignmentment with what we’re used to

some people get annoyed with repeated junk but when you can do it THIS WELL you can get away with anything

but then jack

you did NOT desert that

yes, you were in dire need of an attitude adjustment but jesus

“this is for you, merlin.”

/ugly sobbing/

and tilde is all betterrrrrr ;-;

you guys did itttttt

COUNTRY ROOOAAADDSS

TAKE ME HOOOOOOMMEEEE

TO THE PLAAAAAACCCEEEEE

I BELOOOOONNGGGG

and the scene with jamal and liam T.T #wholesomecontent

poor tequila, after i knew that you would have a bigger role in another movie, i was less annoyed by the fact that they iced you so quick into the story

#FOX2020

“… now we’re brothers, working side by side.”

spoiler alert i actually love champ’s toast

“y’all shittin’ in high cotton now” WHAT DOES THAT MEAN???

and ginger becomes the new whiskey like she always wanted T.T

merlin is proud from heaven (or london, depending on which canon)

iiiiiii have mixed feelings about the whole wedding scene, which is probably because i take HUGE issue with the weird proposal ultimatum thing that happened earlier

but the way eggsy says “not a doubt in my mind,” he says it so seriously and i remember that tilde almost died

there was such good intention packed into this couple that was so badly written that i just

augh

“but it is perhaps the end of the beginning.”

there’s ***merlin! lmao i see you dude, they did you dirty

look

i was pissed off about a lot of things that happened in this thing but i was honestly hype seeing tequila at the very end walking into the tailor shop

like, yeah, i’ll stick around to see what happens in this universe but i’m gonna complain the whole time

GO JACK RABBIT

RUNNING THROUGH THE WOODS

and again, i almost didn’t see this movie.

… i think about that morgan sometimes.

hope she’s doin’ okay.

…

she’s probably not. D:

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chasseurdeloup-retired · 4 years

Text

Into the Woods || Morgan and Kaden

TIMING: Last Sunday LOCATION: The woods PARTIES: @mor-beck-more-problems and @chasseurdeloup SUMMARY: While the banshees scream, Morgan and Kaden try to distract themselves.

The woods were strangely eerie. Odd, he was used to them being comforting. They used to be; they used to be his home away from home. But more and more that feeling was being picked away. Maybe it was because Kaden was subconsciously listening for the sounds of screams in the distance. Maybe it was because the last time he was truly out here on a hunt was with Alain. His stomach dropped what felt like down to his toes. He had his knives on him as always, but part of him wished he didn’t. Even though he knew that would be stupid. It surely didn’t help that his current company was also somber. Oddly so. Of the two of them Morgan was the more talkative of the two normally. And yet, here he was, the one trying to make bullshit conversation on their attempt to distract themselves. “So. We’re pretending that nothing terrible is happening in the woods, what, a few miles away? At most?” Kaden sighed, kicking the dirt under his shoe across the path. “You okay?” he asked, turning to her. Well that was stupid. Neither of them were o-fucking-kay. “I mean you know. Given the whole, uh, everything.” He had a feeling Sundays felt heavier for Morgan than other days of the week. They didn’t make much difference to him one way or another. Every day was a day he didn’t see Regan and worried about what sort of training she was up to. Still, having the solidarity was nice. Or it would be. In theory.

“I took us in the opposite direction,” Morgan said flatly. She slashed her pruning knife through a bundle of purple thistle waving in the underbrush. Slashed again. “We aren’t going to run into anything we shouldn’t. Or, well, we aren’t going to run into the pain parade.” Morgan winced as she reached for her string to tie it off with the rest she’d gathered and set in her basket. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be… I like it, when we hang out like this, even when we feel awful. I’m just...having a hard time.” To put it mildly. Her last visit with Lydia still shook her to her core. She couldn’t tell anymore what was making her energy dip, being reminded of how much she’d lost because of Nell and Constance, the memories her body stored of floods and car accidents, and death, or knowing what Deirdre was being forced to do right now on account of Regan’s dad having been more in love with the denial game than she was. It was the worst game of roulette, where even the winning slot didn’t get you anything besides a need for therapy. “The universe is coming for me on all sides,and I don’t have enough of me to hold onto it all. I don’t even know how I’m going to get through the rest of today.” She stood up, dusted herself off, and shot Kaden a watery smile. “But uh, yeah, though, I’m okay,” she sing-songed. “How about you?”

Kaden wasn’t sure if that made him feel better or worse. Some sick part of him wanted to wander upon it and see what was going on. See how truly terrible it was. He did know that in reality, it wasn’t what he wanted. Hell now that he had the freedom to ask what was going on with the training, really ask, he was too afraid to. Not that he knew where to start. So he simply hadn’t. For now, he waited for whatever Regan had to offer while knowing full well she wasn’t going to offer shit. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s not like I’m great company either.” He had a feeling half the walk he was stuck in his own mind. Too many things were weighing on him. He wondered when he’d break, crumble under the burdens he was bearing for everyone else. Regan, Nadia, Alain, Blanche, Nell, Adam, Bea, hell even Morgan herself; he’d leanded his help to all of them. And he’d keep doing so without hesitation. But he was wondering when he was hurting more than helping, saying he could do things when it was possible he had nothing to offer. “I really understand. Wish I didn’t but I do.” Her chipper attempt at a reply made him roll his eyes. “Yeah, sure, alright. Me, too. I’m completely fucking fine.” He shoved his hands in his pockets before he found a bigger rock and kicked it away. Only slightly more satisfying than the last. Still a hollow victory, though. “I mean I’m the reason my friend is an amputee now and I haven’t seen my girlfriend in… has it been weeks now? But we’re fine.”

Morgan gave Kaden an apologetic look and squeezed the sleeve of his jacket. “I’m sorry. I’m just uh…” Not sure how to balance the honesty you can handle with the honesty that will get me murdered before I have a chance to call Deirdre and tell her I’m sorry. “We’re still kinda new at this whole honesty hour thing, I guess,” she said instead. “You wanna tell me more about your friend? Or ask one of those spooky questions you’re pretending not to think about? ‘Cause I’m all ears, no matter what.” She led them down to a patch of clover and settled down to cut as many as she could, gesturing for him to sit with her a while as she did.

“I guess,” Kaden said with a shrug. “I don’t know, you’ve forced me to share all my feelings and shit all the time. I think the entire time I’ve known you.” He still wasn’t sure why he answered her questions and indulged her in the first place. By now he knew it wasn’t worth fighting her on it and just letting it happen. Which is why he sighed and took a seat next to her. “I don’t know. I feel like you’re not going to like any of it.” She wasn’t exactly shy about telling him how much she hated the whole hunter shit. He found a rock nearby to lean against, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he did. “I don’t even know what to ask about what’s happening anymore. Now that I can know. Where the fuck do I even start? After all of you tell me how much it’s destroying everyone in-fucking-volved.” He thought about picking up a stick or rock nearby, but he didn’t want to uncross his arms, let his guard down. Best to stick with the other thing. “The other part though, uh, we fought a bugbear. Me and the other hunter. Apparently the bugbear was a criminal or a murder or some shit, I don’t know.” He didn’t look at her while he spoke, simply watched the branches across the way, watching as they moved with the breeze. “But I had a clear shot. And I hesitated. The other hunter jumped in to save my ass. And he lost his leg. And then I killed the fucking bugbear anyway.”

“I guess I should’ve clarified,” Morgan smirked. “I’m new at not having to fight you tooth and claw for honesty. Or for having things I don’t know how to talk about either.” She smiled sadly and started plucking stems. She listened to Kaden’s frustration, nodding along and watching the wrinkles in his face as he searched for the words for this. “It doesn’t sound to me like you did anything wrong on your hunt,” she said at last. “People hesitate. They doubt. That makes you human. And, you know, some people would argue that having qualms with killing someone, even an evil, bear-shaped someone, is a good thing. I’m sorry about your friend’s leg. But I imagine they were ready to do anything for you, in that moment. He doesn’t actually blame you, does he?”

“You have feelings you don’t know how to talk about? That’s new and different.” Kaden huffed out a laugh but it didn’t make the mood feel any lighter. He felt his fingers dig into his palm as he made his hand into a fist. She may not have had to fight him tooth and claw but he still wasn’t entirely comfortable with the whole thing. “I’m not supposed to hesitate,” he said before even absorbing the rest. “I can’t be out in the field if I’m going to hesitate or freeze up. It’s dangerous.” He didn’t have to explain that much, he hoped. He played with the pressure of his fist, clenching it tighter and then looser as he paused to try and take in the rest of what she said. “I don’t know if he blames me. I don’t know. I know I blame me.” He felt his throat getting tighter already. Supposed he should have anticipated that would happen at some point. “I don’t know. I think some of you are getting in my head. All I could see was Blanche’s old roommate.” He gave a shrug. “I tried to tell Regan why I hesitated and I-- I don’t know. I don’t think I can explain it.” At least not in a way he’d feel good about it. Which he didn’t know what to make of, either.

“Yeah, even insufferable zombies have their moments,” Morgan said. “And I figured you blame you, but that doesn’t mean you have to. You saw a person there, because they are a person. Even someone you have to kill because they’re out of control and malicious and there’s no other way.” She paused in her work to look at him fully, carefully. “What did Regan say? You could try to explain now. I know it’s...on a practical level, it’s risky, hesitating, but I don’t think it says anything bad about you, Kaden. I think you were just asked to do something incredibly difficult, and you acted the way people do. I know that’s not...super comforting. But, I’m trying to say you’re still a good person, that’s all.”

“I don’t think that makes it better,” Kaden said, voice tight. If that bugbear was a person, then that changed…. Well, it changed a lot. Too much. Enough that he didn’t want to touch or acknowledge. He could feel the crank holding back the flood gates was loosening. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to let it down, accept what it could mean for his life. Not now. Maybe not ever. “Regan just knows I killed a monster. Or, well, a dangerous unusual animal, as she calls it.” He shifted in his seat a bit. “And I mean, that’s true. It is. I mean he was. It was. I don’t--” He hated how much this complicated things. How far from simple hunting had gotten. He let out a deep exhale, trying to release some of the tension building in his chest. “She doesn’t know that bugbears or werewolves transform into, you know, more or less human. When-- And I don’t know how to tell her.” That wasn’t completely true. It would be as simple as trying. “I mean she wouldn’t believe me.” And if she did… He had a feeling it wouldn’t be good. But that didn’t mean it was wrong. It didn’t. Maybe it did. But if it was wrong then what was he supposed to do about it now? If he left that bugbear alive, he’d be dead, Alain would be dead, and countless future people would be dead. Somehow, something still felt wrong. “I don’t feel like a good person. And I feel like an even worse hunter.” And he wasn’t entirely sure what he had to offer if he wasn’t a good hunter. What else was there that he was qualified to do? His whole life had been dedicated to hunting. Without it, what was left?

Morgan knew that Kaden struggled with accepting the personhood of the people he hunted, but she didn’t understand why he wasn’t able to shoulder that gravity the way Deirdre did. And she couldn’t ask or draw the comparison, of course. Even if she wasn't bound to secrecy, telling him would sign Deirdre’s death over to him, and hers too. She couldn’t tell him that seeing people as objects, as prey, aligned him with Lydia and some of the more stomach-turning people she’d met in town. But Kaden wouldn’t appreciate that distinction either, and she didn’t dare endanger Lydia by speaking her name around a hunter. Turning all of these things over in her mind, Morgan bowed her head, shivering in spite of not being able to feel the cold. “You’re a good person, Kaden,” she said firmly. “And it speaks better of you, not worse, to recognize the humanity of the supernaturals you go after. Maybe Regan can’t make that distinction, but I can. Losing a sense of other people’s humanity scrapes away some of yours too, I think.” She sat thinking, no longer even moving her hands, but fixed on the growing dark around them. “Why isn’t being a good hunter something you can define for yourself?”

Kaden dug his fingernails into his palm, a familiar tick as of late. Holding in the emotions and holding back the flood gates, one small crescent shape at a time. He met her eyes when she reaffirmed what she said, hoping it might sink in. But it didn’t. It didn’t seep in. Because he knew he was on a ledge. If he teetered to either side, it would mean pain. He was doomed either way. If he rejected that the supernatural were people, it meant his girlfriend and his friends didn’t deserve to live. If he believed that they were…. He gripped his fists tighter and bit the inside of this lip. “It’s not that Regan can’t make the distinction, Morgan,” he said, voice tight and barely there. “It’s that I’m afraid she will. And if I--” He could feel himself shaking slightly but he forced himself to hold it in, hold steady the gates. “If I acknowledge that-- If we say that’s mu-- I mean that would mean that I’m--” He couldn’t even say it out loud. “I can’t--” He shook his head and braced his hands against the ground, forcing himself still and steady. “They have to be monsters. The things I’ve killed? They have to be that or I don’t know how to live with myself. I don’t know what would make me a good person if I was… that.” His fingers gripped the grass beneath them. This was supposed to be something to make him feel better, right? “I’m sorry, I can’t. I can’t be that.” He breathed in and out slowly, following the dumb breathing techniques he learned from Regan. “Being a hunter it’s-- I mean it’s what I was raised to do it’s all I-- I just, I need to keep people safe. I have to. You don’t-- I have to. And if I’m not doing that, what good am I? What kind of a person am--” Breathe. He had to breathe. Feel the ground under his hand and breathe.

Morgan set her foraging tools aside and crawled over to Kaden, close enough that she could reach out with her small hand and cup his cheek. “You have a kind heart, Kaden. And you wouldn’t intentionally do harm or spread hurt. You said it yourself. That counts for something, you know? And you are more than your duty. You’re a whole person, with so much more to offer the world than the ability to kill and destroy. Sometimes that’s exactly what we need. But it’s not always, and you shouldn’t treat yourself as a thing that’s broken when it doesn’t act with perfect coldness. You’re a person, and I think you owe it to yourself and the people you go after to see them as they are. It isn’t going to make you any less kind, any less worth caring about.”

The emotions Kaden was trying to hold in came spilling over when she came over to him. A sob choked out and he caught it, holding it back. It sounded nice. It sounded great and hopeful and wonderful. As nice an idea as that stupid charging rock built with love. He sure felt like an idiot for falling for that, for believing in it when he learned the truth. And he felt even stupider now than he did then. His lip wrabbled and he wanted to tell her to stop and scream at her that she was wrong. About something. He didn’t know what it was. But she had to be wrong about something. He was wrong about something, too. He wanted to push her away and run as much as he wanted to curl up and crumble. Instead he pulled himself in, hands still clinging tight to the dirt beneath them, his core and arms shaking slightly as he resisted the emotions that were overwhelming him. He attempted a nod, shaking his head, anything, but he felt like any conscious movement would crush him, all the weight of years just on the other side. “What does it mean?” he tried, eyes filling with tears a little more each word. “If I-- What does it mean for all the ones before?” He shut his eyes tight, pushed the feelings back down, bottled away somewhere, tried to. Monsters. They were just monsters. Someone had to be a monster.

Even in her anguished stupor, Morgan’s heart broke for Kaden. She moved closer, taking his face in both hands now. She could almost see the little boy he’d once been, scared and impressionable and wanting so badly to be good. Why was it that parents were so eager to twist their children’s desire to be good for them? Why were so many cruelties hidden away as ‘lessons’? Morgan didn’t know, but she hated it all, the whole complicated mess of it. But there was something she felt sure about, and she spoke it with gentle clarity. “It makes you someone who has had to make some very difficult decisions with reasons and intentions he wasn’t able to fully understand. And maybe some of the choices are regretful ones, some really bad mistakes, but not all of them. And it doesn’t make you bad or awful. Okay? What’s important is what you do now that you understand.”

Kaden couldn’t escape her gaze now, there was no way to look away and not let the words reach him, no way to pretend that she was saying something untrue or anything she didn’t mean. Part of him didn’t want her to forgive him or tell him it might be okay. But she did. Why was she being so nice to him? What the fuck did he do to earn anyone’s trust or anything is this town? Why did he care? It was so much easier when he just simply didn’t care. When the world was black and white and he wasn’t here in a forest with cold hands cupping his face, cold hands that felt more comforting and had more warmth than he could remember feeling in too long now. He could either melt or explode, that was all he could do because he couldn’t hold back everything anymore. He couldn’t carry the weight. A small nod was all he could give her before the emotions forced their way out, the tears broke past his lids no matter how hard he shut them, the sobs escaped his lips and he couldn’t bite it back. He wanted to collapse into the ground and stay there. He still couldn’t sort through this, couldn’t tell if he believed her fully or not, but he also couldn’t stop from feeling the tidal wave of emotions trying to wash him away.

Morgan pulled on Kaden until he sank into her arms. “It’s okay,” she said, squeezing him tight. “You’ll be okay, Kaden. What matters is right now, okay? You’re still a kind person, and a good friend.” She tried to get a better grip around his shoulders, to bundle him better against her body. “You weren’t taught to know these things, because it’s easier if you don’t. But you know now, and you’ll be okay…” she whispered.

Kaden didn’t know how long he let himself fall apart and how long he let her hold him. It felt like too long and not enough but he felt like he was drowning in all of it. Everything was just crushing him and pulling him under. The incident with Alain, his past, everything with Regan, his mother, Celeste, Ariana. He felt everything though, every nerve, raw and painful. “I’m sorry,” he croaked out, over and over. When he finally felt empty he sniffed and tried to collect himself, recovering from the mess he’d become. “Fuck. I’m sorry. We came here to be less fucking sad.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry to me for,” Morgan assured him, her voice faint and even as she comforted him. “You don’t have to be sorry. Don’t be. It’s okay.” She said it again for every apology he made, knowing that there would be another, because shame was terrible and predictable that way. When he started making more words than just that, she gave a breathless laugh and mussed his hair. “Sometimes things are just too sad, and the best you can hope for is being sad together with someone.” She sniffled and wiped the corners of her eyes, which had started to tear up. “And I think we’ve got that one down easy. Don’t feel bad for having a feeling.”

“Hey, not the hair,” Kaden said, batting her hand away gently, a small smile peeking through on his face. He took a moment to try and push some of his hair back where it belonged, probably pretty pointless by then. When his hands were free, he reached out to grip her shoulder a moment, just give them a squeeze and be done, but instead he paused and pulled her into another hug. He still wasn’t sure how to feel, he still wasn’t sure what it meant or if he knew the way forward. He wasn’t even sure if her words actually held comfort anymore or just offered him with more questions. What he did know was he had support, someone else who, maybe stupidly, believed in him. “Thanks,” he said as he let go of the hug. It was nice, not feeling alone, feeling like someone would try to catch him when he fell.

The thing was Kaden had that. He had that with Regan. Maybe not right that second but he did, and he knew that she would even if her world was falling apart. She’d proved that, she’d tired. And it struck him that was who he should be having this conversation with and the pit of weight dropped down onto him again. “I miss her,” he said softly, wiping away some of the tears that had pooled on his face before with his palm. “I saw her pretty much every day. I didn’t realize it. Until she was--” Gone. It had been a while. The last he’d seen her he was on the curb two meters away from her as they sat there and watched the sunrise. He talked to her online but it wasn’t the same. This was stupid. She wasn’t dead, she hadn’t even dumped him. Being away from her was hard but it was far from the worst of this. He let out a sigh as his mind wandered to why they were even there and what they had intended to avoid in the first place. Here he was drowning in emotions and somewhere else in the same woods, Regan was trying to cut hers away. “Right. Definitely a master of being sad together. Funny, I never thought I’d say this but at least we get to be sad.” His voice was hollower than he intended, but it was fitting given the subject.

A scab peeled off Morgan’s heart as she took in Kaden’s smile. There was that kid again, not in the juvenile, black-and-white judgemental asshat sort of way she’d hated when they first met, but in the way that Deirdre sometimes looked different, more herself, when she was watching the spiders feast or running with her through the cemeteries and stopping to admire a grave. Something pure and essential that went beyond the bulshit shoved down her throat. Something wonderful. It was like that, with Kaden’s smile. “It’s okay, Kaden,” she said.

The relief was short lived as he started talking about Regan, and what he was losing. Morgan’s gaze fell back to her butchered patch of clover, feeling guilty for the way she’d ��helped’ the baby banshee move out once again. What did it mean that she’d barely been able to smile, or freak out at any of the stuff she’d done. Even the low-grade stuff. “I’m sorry,” she said. “That it’s like this. I think...I really do want it to be over soon. For her.” For all of them. If she could just get that stretch of time from Sunday to Tuesday and Wednesday back, when she could see Deirdre smile again, all the way up to her soft, autumn-brown eyes. Picking up the clover she’d picked, Morgan flashed Kaden a smile of her own. “Here’s to being sad.”

“Training like this. It…” Kaden sighed, truly hating the fact that he was giving Deirdre some credit, that was admitting to any similarities, even after their time in that stupid circle. “It took me years. It took Deirdre years. And I know we were kids but..” He shook his head. “Sorry, I don’t mean to bring us down again.” At least one of them was an optimist. If he was meant to hope and hold on and try desperately to be a lifevest when he was fairly certain he was drowning himself, he needed some help. And it likely meant any shred of hope he had was going to be saved for Regan. He rubbed his face again, trying to reset, and pushed his hair back. “Here’s to being sad. Remind me to bring some liquor out here next time.” Right. Putain. “At least for me. Sorry.”

“I didn’t realize you were aware of those common details between you. You wanna elaborate?” Morgan said. She couldn’t figure out who would have told. It definitely wasn’t her, as much as she burned to say it sometimes when they were being especially similar and obtuse, she could never bring herself to share something that would make Deirdre so vulnerable to some she knew she hated. Morgan had assumed Regan wasn’t up to mining Deirdre’s backstory either, or if it came up, that it wasn’t something she would see fit to share. Regan could be fastidiously thoughtful, even when she was being frosty, provided the thoughtfulness was turned into a rule. “And you’re okay, really.” Morgan dusted herself off and scanned their surroundings for hemlock. It had an unfortunate resemblance to Queen Anne’s Lace, which was frustratingly common around these parts. “Regan is stubbornly devoted. As long as we don’t fuck this up, maybe it’ll be okay. And maybe, you know, whenever ‘after’ happens, that’s how things turn out better for her. And she already loves you, I think that gives you a leg up, in the man v. banshee game. And don’t worry about me. My next dose of the good brain drugs is coming in a few days, and I’m just...not very up in general right now. You’re good, okay?”

“Hmm? Oh. Right.” Kaden almost thought that Deirdre might have shared the details of their time in the witch’s circle. Guess not. “We, uh, we got stuck in a magic circle. It was like some bullshit therapy session. I don’t know. It was stupid.” He instantly regretted telling any of this to Morgan. He could feel the laughter and questions about to rain on him. He sighed and figured he should stand up. Take a step or two again. Move on and continue forward from the discussion they just had. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to, but if she had more herbs to find, guess he’d have to. “I hope you’re right. About all of it. The after and the leg up. I don’t know.” He rubbed his arm and figured he should probably brush off some of the dirt and leaves from his pants. He kept wondering if all of it was enough. If he was enough. If there wasn’t that part of him that she’d find and decide she didn’t want him after all. His stomach churned thinking of everything he’d just confessed a few minutes ago. He sniffed and blinked away any tears threatening to break through again. “But, uh, that’s good. The brains. I guess. Is there something else? Other than, uh, this?” he asked. His brows were knit together as he searched her face for some sort of hint or answer. He had to wonder if it was something she couldn’t tell him. He hoped it wasn’t because she didn’t trust him.

Even from her sunken place, Morgan couldn’t help but snigger at the thought of Deirdre and Kaden in therapy...together. “Oh, that’s good. That’s amazing! Obviously I can’t pry for details, with confidentiality of course, but—oh, stars above, Kaden.” She beamed. “I’m happy for you two. You both definitely need it, and if you came out of it without stabbing each other, you must have found some kind of understanding in there.” She smirked again. “Does this mean you two could share a space without hurting each other for an hour?” She didn’t raise her voice above sarcasm, not daring to hope for even that much from the world right now, even those she cared about.

She wandered a little ahead of him, still looking for the hemlock. She didn’t enjoy lying to her friends and she didn’t like the sad puppy look on Kaden’s face, like he needed to be able to do something for her. He wouldn’t understand that he couldn’t offer her anything besides the murder of her friends, even if Lydia might deserve it. “Classified,” she said with a sad smile. “Fall is a hard time for me anyways. Constance’s curse usually took something away that mattered to me around this time, so there’s a lot of trauma stored inside this little corpse of mine. Apartments, cars, places, friends, my parents. It’s a whole thing. Kind of awful, since Samhain is my favorite holiday.” She shrugged, but there wasn’t much effort put into being convincing. When it came to dealing with loss, there didn’t seem to be much of a point to hiding it from Kaden.

Kaden immediately rolled his eyes at her response. Saw that coming a mile away. “Amazing’s not the fucking word I’d use for it.” Tedious, arduous, awful, all very good words for that experience. Amazing was not one. “You know if you still had your powers, I’d have half a mind to ask that it wasn’t you who set up that fucking circle. It seems like the kind of shit you’d pull.” Hell she seemingly tried to do it without magic now. And honestly, she might have some degree of success since Morgan was one of the few things Deirdre and he could manage to agree on. “Don’t get too excited. Wasn’t really a barrel of fucking laughs. Not until she--” Uh, right. Maybe he didn’t want to reveal to her how he fell flat on his face when the barrier fell away. “Never mind,” he added quickly.

There was a bird chirping overhead as she talked and it caught his eye. He didn’t need to watch her to know there was pain there. He could feel it. Even as blase as she was being. He understood. Sometimes you had to put up walls around loss or tuck it away for long enough to keep moving. “I’m sorry,” he said as he watched the bird take off and fly away, his eyes dropping back to her. It was unfair. All of it. Being cursed thanks to your family’s legacy. The puff of a laugh escaped his lips before he could stop it. Sounded familiar. “Maybe this will be the last season Constance can take anything from you.” He wasn’t sure if that was hopeful or still just as depressing. It almost sounded nice, though. “You know, I never did much to celebrate holidays, even when my parents were alive. It just wasn’t as important. So I can’t say I know much about Samhain. Not that I, uh, I would. I’m guessing it’s a witch thing. So. Yeah.”

“I would never do that to you two as a surprise. Not unless I knew some trick for making sure you literally couldn’t hurt each other even if you tried,” Morgan admitted. “Besides, that’s got to be some offshoot of mental magic, and I could never figure any of that stuff out. Not that you don’t make it tempting. When this all shakes out in however long, if we’re all still alive, it might be nice to have that picnic.” She couldn’t picture it no matter how hard she tried, but her dad had believed that speaking things into the universe would help teach it to make them so. “You have more in common than you realize, Kaden. Even down to rubbing people the wrong way on a first impression.”

Morgan held herself still and cold as she could at Kaden’s attempt at comfort. ‘As much as she could,’ didn’t amount to much, but she didn’t feel like crying in front of him, especially when she could only explain some of what she was feeling. “I’d really like that, if this could just be the end of it. If I never had to feel...so fucking broken because of her again… I don’t even know how to talk about half the things her curse did to me and my family. It’s kind of amazing it took me so long to realize her bullshit is what made my mother into such a nightmare. But that’s…” she shook her head. It was all she had to hold onto besides Deirdre, and she was going to take it, no matter how gathering the materials for ritual made her feel. Not doing it was still worse. “It’s whatever,” she mumbled. She dug deep into herself and tried to rally some of her usual bright energy into her spirit. “But Samhain is for everyone! Or it can be. It’s all about paying homage to the harvest of the year, and for the harvest of our forebearers. What we have that’s grown, what’s going to survive the coming darkness and death of winter. It’s about bracing yourself for the worse still to come with...love, stupid as I’m sure that sounds to you.”

“So that I couldn’t stab her? Don’t get me wrong. I was tempted. But the whole being turned into a zombie thing seemed less than appealing,” Kaden retorted. Not to mention, without Deirdre, who would Regan have to help her? Her grandmother, maybe, but something about even thinking about her sent a chill down his spine. Not that he had much reason to, he knew shit all about her or the circumstances. Then again, he’d seen that basement in Millinoket. He had to blink a moment at Morgan’s suggestion of a picnic with all four of them “Right. I’m the only one of the four of us who doesn't have centuries. Good luck waiting on that one.” It was meant to be a joke, but somehow it still stung a little in its own way. “I mean it’s hard to imagine all four of us in the same spot, all relatively okay.” Leave it to Morgan to remain hopeful despite the odds.

“I know you’re better at the feelings talk than I am, but I don’t think it’s whatever. Shit sucks.” Kaden reached out and gave her shoulder a squeeze. He was pretty sure it wasn’t comforting or right. It wasn’t something he had a lot of experience with. He knew how to be around Regan. And Blanche. Sometimes Bea. And even then he was unsure of what was helpful, overbearing, incorrect. All he could do was try. “I mean it. If I can help. You just have to point me in the right direction.” He gave her shoulder one more squeeze before letting go. He knew actions weren’t weighted any more than words to her, at least not what he could gather. But they were to him. And it was all he knew to offer. So he’d try. It was what he could do. And he hoped she knew that. Still he had to laugh at what she said about Samhain. Bracing for the worst with love. “You’re right it does sound stupid,” he said, be he couldn’t help keep the smile off his face despite the sadness he still felt lingering. “But I have a feeling it’s the kind of shit I need a little more of. Maybe you can share a little more about it with me. We have plenty more sundays to go.”

“So you know about the lifespan, huh?” Morgan said, frowning sympathetically. “I don’t guess there’s anything to stretch lifespan out for hunters, is there? You’d think with all the cosmic public service and greater good talk you guys have, someone would have at least tried.” She frowned again, uncertain as to whether she sounded callous. “I’m sorry. I want you to be able to be here. I want you to stay with us. I want all of this to be okay in a few months, in a year. I don’t know, sometime. I feel like we should all get to have that so this feels worth it.”

Morgan almost cried at the whisper feeling of Kaden’s hand on her shoulder. “I wish I knew what the right direction was. Everything feels like it’s just...falling apart. The only thing that makes sense is… Okay, you have to confront violence with your morals all the time, so tell me this: is there anyone who ever hurt you so much that the only thing that makes sense is to get them back? How much hurt til it’s fair?” But she couldn’t imagine more hurt on her shoulders and bound in her body until this moment. How much hurt could someone else bear from another person? The destruction, the fear, the loss (and there was so much loss, every week that re-opened another wound reminded her just how much). Maybe it didn’t, couldn’t matter what Kaden thought. “Never mind,” she said quietly. “You don’t have to. I’m sorry… I do uh, I do think that it wouldn’t hurt you to lean into more love to get by. Maybe that’s how we try to find balance. Maybe that’s how we get to ‘after.’”

“I do. I mean, I know the general fae lifespan. So I figured.” Kaden gave a shrug, tried to brush off the hurt. It was stupid. He’d never get centuries even if it were possible. Ever. That wasn’t how hunting worked. “My lifespan has been stretched, Morgan. I’ve had more near death experiences than most people ever do. This is it. This is what I--” He felt his voice rising, anger rising up with it, and he wasn’t sure when his words choked him, what part made him stop. It wasn’t like he didn’t already know all this, hadn’t reckoned with it before. A long time ago. “Sorry. I-- Sorry. I would like us all to be around, too.” He was more and more reminded why he had only lived in pockets of time. It was all he was guaranteed. And even then.

He stood and listened to what she said. Took it all in. “Yes.” It wasn’t a hard question. Was there anything he hated so much he wanted revenge? Easily. “I don’t know about fair. I don’t think it’ll ever be fair. No matter what I do. No matter what anyone does. What’s lost can’t come back, it’ll never be fucking fair. But it can be over. I can make sure no one else suffers like this. That the hurt they cause is done. Forever.” If anyone understood the desire for revenge, it was him. It had dulled a bit after fifteen years, sure, but not much. “You’re right I don’t have to. But I’m offering. And you could be right. Just maybe.”

Morgan stared into the dark, knowing Kaden was right in more ways than she wanted to admit. Maybe it was just the steady creep of winter, or the wounds on her psyche blending her brain into mush, but seemed like even her anchors were shriveling up in her hands and slipping away. Ideas she had started to cling to weren’t worth as much as she’d thought. My friends will stay with me. Believe in me. Even her old standby, ‘tomorrow might be better,’ didn’t steady her the way it used to. She grimaced, holding herself against her pain and mumbled, “Fate’s a son of a bitch.” It was hard to believe her curse was lifted when every time she tried to push back on Constance, she lost whatever she cared about. It almost lent credence to Deirdre’s fae bullshit about a supernatural caste system, like all she could do was take shit for someone else’s baggage or get more for trying to do something about it. At least seeing things through her way would prove that her life wasn’t made to be anyone’s chew toy or snack pack. Not that anyone understood how the need to make any of this different ground against her sanity. No matter what she said, it never sank in beyond some ‘horrifying’ hypothetical. And, stars, sometimes it horrified her too, but she couldn’t turn her back on herself.

Then Kaden said yes. Morgan squinted at him in the twilight, wincing at the bittersweet rush of warm understanding that filled her. “Finished is one word, yeah. I thought we were finished before, but, you know, guess not. And I keep feeling like...I need to be the one who decides how it goes, for once. Even if it’s just to give her back even a fraction of the suffering she’s given me as she’s wiped off the earth. My terms, for once.” It was one of the few things that still made sense, that she felt remotely certain of. “I hope you get yours too,” she said. “Maybe it won’t take so long for you, at least, huh? Maybe we’ll get what we need and come out of this all shiny and happy.” She didn’t believe a word of what she was saying, but maybe it would happen anyway. Maybe.

#wickedswriting #Chatzy #morgan #morbeckmoreproblems #into the woods #writing

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inkyveins · 3 years

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sunflower, waves, waterfalls, freckles, blushing, watercolour (ooo there’s a u), pine, & clouds!!

you don’t have to answer all of them but i’m just curious about you bc i love you 🥰

aaaa love you too!!! only senpai i'd have a dramatic mid-game flashback about, catch me screaming "선배!!!!" and going absolute feral magical girl on the opponents. (also i am so sorry this is so long asdlfjs;lk)

Answers under the cut! (of course I answered all of them, this just feeds my inflated sense of self-importance uwu)

sunflower: if there was a door that went to a city that was a good representation of you, what city would it be and would you go through the door?

Honestly? With my emotional repression and questionable coping mechanisms, we're headed for Ba Sing Se, babeyyyy~♥ I think it'd be a door to the city I studied abroad in (not to be that guy, but...) because it's got that small town, secluded calm but is also just a short ways away from a bigger, more urban city so you can vibe at all energy levels. I would definitely go through the door (although if the city is a good representation of me, it's definitely infested with night terror demons or something).

waves: is there one music genre you can’t listen to?

Modern country ("i'm cheating on my wife with my tractor" style. Not Jolene-era. I vibe with Jolene). Leaves a bad taste in my mouth and an unpleasant ring in my skull.

waterfalls: describe your perfect date.

*cracks knuckles* alrighty, buckle up buttercup, we're about to go on a

Mental Journey.

So we meet at a park (ideally there is an outdoor photography/art exhibition because I'm extra like that) and walk around a bit, people/art-watching and chatting. We take photos of each other in front of our favorite pieces (and yes there are Moments where we pose each other and share brief but meaningful Wordless Gazes), and then take a picture together in front of the art. Later on, we'll draw silly memes/stickers on these and send them to each other, but for now, on to the secondary location! It's a bookshop/café, where we sample each other's pastries and point out our fave authors/books. There's a frankly sickening amount of poetry/literature being quoted/purposely misquoted/slipped into conversation throughout this entire thing. (No this is not realistic, no I don't care)

freckles: what’s something that makes you happy? describe the first thing that comes to your head.

The feeling of making something delicious for a loved one and seeing them enjoy it. Knowing that something I made with love is being loved is such a nice feeling!

blushing: describe a rad person you know.

There's this girl I know who is so incredibly resilient and brave. I really admire her because she's been through a Lot, but it's so important to her that she doesn't let it make her cynical or hardhearted. She approaches life with so much mindfulness and kindness, even when it's difficult, and her emphasis on making conscious decisions that make her happy with herself is so rad. We went to highschool together and she's one of the few people I still talk to from that Dark Age lmao.

watercolour: talk about something someone you are interested in can do that never fails to make you find them attractive?

Get excited about something they really care about! Bro if they get that sparkly look in their eyes and start speeding up when they talk....it's over. Critical hit, fatality, doki doki ultimate tachycardia.

pine: if you could only smell one scent for the rest of your life, what would it be?

Freshly bloomed jasmine flowers 🌸

clouds: list your top 5 songs at the moment and how they make you feel

(song names are links to yt)

Paprika (Japanese Breakfast) - hopeful; bro this song makes me wanna dance! This song makes me okay with being afraid of the future and plunging into it anyways.

Amandoti (Måneskin w/Manuel Agnelli) - look this song has everything: glam rock, ballad, tender crooning, rad bassline. Makes me want to stomp around in platforms, kiss someone with red lipstick and call them lover, maybe do a little h*ndh*lding.

Fresh Blood (전동석, Dracula the Musical) - vibin and mildly nostalgic; Dong Suk Jeon is my favourite Dracula in the Korean run of the musical and the way he snarls out some of these lines is so deliciously wicked. Every time I listen to this song I remember the first time I heard it, when I was putting together my honors thesis proposal

Your Blood (Nothing But Thieves) - seen; the lyrics really resonate with how I've been feeling lately about Asian-American identity

Posing in Bondage (Japanese Breakfast) - hnnggh I love Michelle Zauner so much, this song makes me feel like my reflection stepped out of the mirror, gave me a hot pocket, and told me it was okay to cry. (also makes me think about Asian American identity in a really raw way; honorary mention too for Slide Tackle from the same album)

#ask game #thank you kaycee #long post #jinx.txt

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lithalwrites · 4 years

Text

Didn’t Know They Were Dating

For all his smarts and sharpness, Kuroo was sometimes unexpectedly oblivious. Or perhaps not so unexpectedly, Kenma supposed. Perhaps it was a remnant of his personality when he had been younger: shy and reserved, and generally not very confident in himself. Looking at him now, it was difficult to imagine the words shy and Kuroo in the same sentence. But Kenma had known him since they were young children, and he had seen him grow out of shy Kuroo into loud Kuroo. Some things, it seemed, had not completely been left behind.

“Kuroo-kun!” the vice-captain of the girls’ volleyball team called out to Kuroo as he locked up the gym after practice. Kenma hadn’t realized that she had stayed behind, but there she was, waving at Kuroo and jogging up to them. “Hi! Hi, Kozume-san.” Kenma nodded at her.

“What’s up?” Kuroo asked.

“Congratulations on making it through to the Nationals!” she said.

“Thanks. The team did great,” Kuroo said.

“Yes, but having a great captain like you helps,” she said. Kenma fought the urge to roll his eyes.

“Thanks,” Kuroo said. “Is there something you needed?”

“I was wondering if you’d be down to get coffee sometime?” she asked, shooting a quick glance at Kenma, as if to see how he would react.

This ought to be interesting, Kenma thought to himself.

“Sure. We’re usually free after volleyball practice.”

There it was.

She blinked. “We?”

“Yeah. Kenma and I?” Kuroo said.

Sometimes Kenma wondered how someone so smart could be so stupid.

“Oh,” she said, and laughed awkwardly. “Okay. I’ll let you know when works for me. See you later, Kuroo-kun, Kozume-san.” She looked at Kenma again, and then jogged off. Kenma almost felt sorry for her.

“Kuro,” he said.

“What?”

“You realize she was asking you out on a date, right?”

“Wait, really?”

This time, Kenma did roll his eyes. “Yes, really.”

“Oh. Well, I went and made that awkward for her. Oops. But I guess it’s fine, since I’m not interested in her anyway. No point wasting her time.”

“Hmm.”

“Where are we going?” Kenma asked as Kuroo led them downtown after school.

“It’s a surprise,” Kuroo said with a smirk. Kenma sighed and followed him without asking any more questions. When Kuroo got in the mood for surprises, it was best to go along with it. He knew what Kenma liked, so it was unlikely to be something that would upset him. They walked for a few minutes, and then stopped in front of what looked like a newly opened dessert shop. “Here we are,” Kuroo said proudly.

“A dessert shop,” Kenma said.

“Their apple pies are supposed to be very good,” Kuroo said. “So I thought I’d treat you to it.”

“That was nice of you,” Kenma said. “What’s the catch?”

Kuroo laughed. “Kenma, I’m heartbroken! Can’t I treat my best friend to some apple pie once in a while?” he asked.

Kenma shrugged. He didn’t mention everything else Kuroo did for him. He was just going to bide his time…as long as he could. Perhaps the waiting game would teach him where the limit to his patience was. In any case, he expected to be waiting for a while yet.

“How’s the pie?”

“It’s good,” Kenma said. “Not as good as yours, though,” he added. Kenma wasn’t afflicted by the need to flatter people, so what he said was the truth, surprisingly enough. He had genuinely not found an apple pie that tasted better to him than the ones Kuroo made. But he was biased, and he knew it.

“Aww, thanks,” Kuroo said, and dug into his own dessert. He had ordered some strange concoction that Kenma had never heard of or seen before. It looked interesting, to put it mildly. Kuroo offered him a spoon, but he declined, not wanted whatever it was near his pie.

They were seated in a booth, and he could hear the people in the one behind him. He didn’t pay much attention to them until he caught Kuroo’s name in the conversation. Kuroo remained oblivious, too focused on his monstrosity of a dessert.

“I guess that’s why he didn’t get it. I didn’t know they were dating,” Kenma heard one of them say. It sounded like the girls’ volleyball captain.

“I didn’t either,” said an unfamiliar voice. “But it makes sense, I guess. They spend a lot of time together.”

There was a sound like someone clapped someone on the back. “Don’t worry, Sachi, plenty of other fish.”

The conversation moved on to other things, and Kenma lost interest. He looked back up at Kuroo, who was staring dejectedly at his dessert. “I don’t think I can finish this,” he said sadly.

“Can you get it to go?” Kenma asked.

Kuroo shook his head. “This is so sad.”

“Oh hey hey hey!” a loud, overly enthusiastic voice announced the arrival of its loud, overly enthusiastic owner. Bokuto came into view, and slid into the booth next to Kuroo.

“Bokuto-san, I think we are interrupting,” Akaashi said, trailing behind Bokuto.

“Nah, it’s fine,” Kuroo said, waving at him to sit. Kenma silently moved to make room for him. Akaashi nodded in thanks and slid in next to him.

“Bokuto, fancy seeing you here,” Kuroo said.

“Someone mentioned that this place had opened up and we decided to check it out. Akaashi doesn’t look like it, but he actually has a sweet tooth,” Bokuto explained happily.

Akaashi shook his head. “That’s what he tells everyone, and then he finishes my dessert every time,” he said. “What are you eating, Kuroo-san?”

“The house special,” Kuroo said. “But it’s too much. You want it, Bokuto?”

“For real?” Bokuto asked, eyes sparkling. “Yeah, I’ll have it.” He pulled the bowl towards himself and dug in. “So good!” he said, mouth full. Akaashi looked at him, fondly exasperated.

They spent the next few minutes talking, and then Akaashi decided that he and Bokuto should leave Kuroo and Kenma to themselves. “Sorry for the interruption,” he said again.

Kenma sighed inwardly. “It’s fine,” he said. “It was nice catching up with you.”

“Should we head home now?” he asked Kuroo after they had left. “I have a bunch of homework I need to do.”

“Yeah, let’s go. Want to watch a movie after homework?”

“Sure.”

“Hi Kenma! Kuroo-san!” Hinata waved enthusiastically at them. Kageyama awkwardly mumbled a greeting.

“Hi, Shrimpy, what’s up?” Kuroo said.

Hinata immediately put his hands in front of him as if gearing for a fight. “You wanna go, Bedhead-san?” he said as threateningly as he could, which wasn’t very.

“Kuro,” Kenma said. “No teasing the guests.”

“Aww, you’re no fun,” Kuroo said. Kenma leveled him a look. “Fine, fine. I won’t tease them. Much.”

“Hi, Shouyou. Kageyama. How was the train ride?” Kenma asked.

“It was great,” Hinata said enthusiastically.

“How would you know, idiot? You were asleep and drooling on my shoulder the entire time,” Kageyama said.

“Hey! I do not drool,” Hinata protested.

“Then how do you explain the damp patch on my shirt where your mouth was?” Kageyama retorted.

Kuroo and Kenma watched in amusement. Kenma pre-emptively nudged jabbed Kuroo in the side with his elbow so he wouldn’t jump in with a snarky comment.

“Kenma, you don’t trust me to not tease them?” Kuroo asked.

“No.”

“Okay, you’re right. But still.”

“So, how’s it going?” Hinata asked Kenma later. At some point, Kageyama had started talking to Kuroo about volleyball, and Hinata had fallen back in step with Kenma. He looked at him eagerly for an answer. Kenma sighed and shook his head. “Still no? You should just tell him,” Hinata said.

Kenma had never imagined that the day would come when Hinata would be offering him advice about this, of all things. “I actually might, if this keeps up. We’ll see.”

“Keep me updated! You know, I’m still surprised that it’s the way it is. Most of Karasuno thinks what I first did,” Hinata mused.

“They’re not the only ones,” Kenma replied with a sigh, remembering the dessert shop, and Akaashi and Bokuto.

“Captain!” Lev yelled loudly at the end of practice a few days later.

“What?” Kuroo yelled back just as loudly, just to be obnoxious.

“Do you have a date for the Ball?” Lev asked, referring to the athlete’s dance that the school held, for some reason.

Yaku smacked Lev. “Lev! Mind your own business.”

“It’s obviously going to be Kenma or nobody,” Yamamoto said.

“What?” Lev and Kuroo said in unison.

“What do you mean, ‘what’? Yamamoto said. “Isn’t it normal to go with the person you’re dating?”

Kenma closed his eyes and let out a breath. He slowly opened them again.

“I didn’t know Captain and Kenma were dating,” Lev said, his eyes round. The rest of the team had gathered closer for the drama.

“We’re not,” Kuroo said.

Silence. Kenma could feel the shock rippling through the team. Yaku was the first one to find his tongue again, unsurprisingly.

“What do you mean you’re not dating? You’re telling me that you very obviously love him and just do everything couples do without actually being a couple?”

“Are you sure you’re not just pulling our legs?” Kai asked. “We all thought you’ve been dating for a while now. Like, a while.”

“It’s not just our team,” Yamamoto added. “Karasuno’s captain and vice-captain think so too.”

“Kenma, do you know people who thought we were dating?” Kuroo asked, still surprised.

“Bokuto-san and Akaashi. Shouyou thought so too at first,” Kenma answered.

“Have we been dating?” Kuroo asked next.

“According to a lot of people, yes,” Kenma said. “I hoped you’d realize it soon.”

Kuroo laughed. “Kenma. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Kenma shrugged. “I was waiting to see if you figured it out. But I would have, soon. Probably.”

“Do you want to be dating?” Kuroo asked next.

“Yes,” Kenma said promptly.

“Well then. From now on, I won’t be the only one who didn’t know we were dating,” Kuroo said. He glared at his team. “Thanks for the help, guys. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem, Captain,” Yaku said, grinning. “Remember to treat us to a thank you dinner.”

“You wish.”

#kurokenweek2020 #kuroken #Kuroo Tetsurou #Kozume Kenma #haikyuu!!

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itsclydebitches · 4 years

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Surprise postscript: Hundreds if not thousands of semblances to choose from all over Atlas and nobody ever stops to use them in creative ways. It saddens me that Ace ops kidnapping Jaune to force him to buff Marrow's ZA WARUDO Salem's entire army is most certainly not going to be a thing and that alone is one of the most obvious uses. Semblances used creatively together would go a long way towards everyone not immediately dying due to RWBY's poor decisions next season.

I completely understand that a story needs to be a bit flexible about powers in order to ensure that fights are long enough and complicated enough to be entertaining. Can’t have one person decimating a whole group in ten seconds, not unless that’s the point of the scene. Otherwise it’s boring. But when you’ve got those expectations at play - this fight will be difficult, creative, last a decent length of time, etc. - and you’ve created characters with rather extraordinary powers, you need to provide in-text explanations for why they’re not using them to their full extent. The lack of such explanations is mildly frustrating in the grand scheme of RWBY’s battles (why isn’t Nora carrying lightning dust and powering herself up? Why does Blake barely make use of her clones anymore?) but it becomes far more of an issue when the writing straight up ignores a power in order to expand on a fight or allow one party to win. Marrow is the most egregious example of this lately. The thought process/solution should go something like this:

Problem: Team RWBY is fighting the Ace Ops. The Ace Ops have a member that can freeze anyone in place. What’s stopping Marrow from ending this fight in an instant?

Solution: He’s really conflicted about fighting Team RWBY and doesn’t want to use his semblance.

Connected Problem: Why wouldn’t Marrow want to use his semblance? If he doesn’t want to fight Team RWBY it makes no sense why he would avoid the power that keeps a fight from occurring.

Execution: In the episodes leading up to this fight show Marrow bonding more with Team RWBY, being hesitant to obey every order the Ace Ops give him, something to explain why he’s the outlier here. In addition, show some downside to his semblance (a possible solution to the Connected Problem), a consequence for the person trapped in it. In addition still, have Harriet give a direct order for him to use his semblance - a demonstration that the show didn’t forget about its own world building - and have him refuse. Now all these pieces come together to explain why our fight didn’t end in an instant, maintaining in-world consistency and allowing for that exciting battle.

Problem: Team RWBY is fighting the Ace Ops. The Ace Ops have a member that can freeze anyone in place. What’s stopping Marrow from ending this fight in an instant?

Solution: He does use it but Ruby, given her speed, is the one member able to escape before it hits. At the start of the fight she distracts/knocks Marrow out (which would likewise create more Problems to solve in regards to how she manages that, but), thus freeing her team.

Problem: Team RWBY is fighting the Ace Ops. The Ace Ops have a member that can freeze anyone in place. What’s stopping Marrow from ending this fight in an instant?

Solution: Marrow straight up betrays the Ace Ops. He doesn’t use his super convenient semblance because he doesn’t want Team RWBY caught. Give us a volume of him being the one Ace Ops member uncomfortable with Ironwood’s plans and have him support Team RWBY during the office conversation, all of it culminating in him switching sides.

The only thing you don’t want is what we got: Marrow not using his super convenient power for reasons the fandom is left to interpret for themselves, none of which make sense. Why would Marrow not want to use his peaceful semblance when he wants to avoid a fight? Why wouldn’t he use it when there’s no shown downside? How could he just forget about it when he’s a member of the elite huntsmen team? None of the “Marrow didn’t want to fight” or “Marrow acts foolish” explanations actually answer these questions in full. I wholeheartedly agree that RWBY should be thinking through creative uses for semblances, but before they push their boundaries they need to make sure characters are just using their semblances at all. Before we explore Ruby hitting Level Three of her semblance, I want to know why when Harriet points out that their auras are depleted and no one can fight, Ruby doesn’t go, “Don’t worry, Jaune can amplify aura. He took Weiss from death’s door to summoning her knight in a matter of minutes.” When you have all these conflicts going on you have to think through which are easily solved or changed via the superpowers you’ve given your cast - then do something with that.

#rwby #rwde #mymetas

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celestialholz · 5 years

Text

Riddle Me This

So, uh... casually reblogging on the train yesterday morning, and there was this:

(Find the original over here: https://anxietyproblem.tumblr.com/post/184795738758)

And well, Qcard inspiration, basically. I’m beginning to think I can literally Qcard anything ever, to be perfectly honest, but have some dumb, wholesome and warming fun for your Wednesday evening anyway, because I write far too much angst and sometimes I think I need to lighten up a little lmao

This is dedicated to @q-card as we had a bit of a crap day yesterday and we deserve some silliness and love, as do you lovely people. <3

------

It’s not even a full minute into his shift when he hears an echoed ping; he spins, baffled, almost coating himself in the first tea of the morning, ready to reestablish boundaries in as few syllables as possible, but to his surprise, it isn’t Q. Instead, it’s simply an ancient piece of parchment, and he makes for it in mild intrigue, barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes - what in the cosmos could be so important that he couldn’t have said ten minutes earlier, when they were still half-dressed and making their way through overly sugared pastries? If the god thinks this new relationship is about to devolve to the level of note-passing -

He stares at the elaborate cursive for a moment, brilliant in scarlet ink, and purses his lips.

“‘I am the beginning of everything, the end of everywhere. I am the beginning of eternity, the end of time and space. What am I?’” He reads aloud in disbelief.

... Dear galaxies, it’s even worse than notes.

He considers it for a moment, chiding himself for even humouring the riddle - it’s hardly the conundrum of saving three Enterprises simultaneously, or proving humanity worthy of continuing. He’s a Starfleet captain, for pity’s sake, and he’s fairly certain that the kindergarten population of the ship could come up with something reasonably accurate in response.

“Do you want to know now?” He questions thin air dryly, narrowing his eyes in anticipation of an amused Q’s appearance; handwriting further writes itself across the page instead, and Picard can almost taste the self-satisfaction.

No, no. I can see you’re incredibly busy, wouldn’t want to disturb your vital mission.

He consults the ready room ceiling in palpable exasperation and takes a seat, surveying the latest duty roster just so he looks suitably preoccupied to any casual, omniscient observer. It takes him a moment to realise something profoundly annoying: this is a riddle from an ancient entity, known for his complex tests, and therefore it can’t be that simple.

... Can it?

-------

“All ahead, ensign - warp five,” he instructs mid-morning, a proud, “aye, Captain” setting them off towards the closest starbase to meet a Risan diplomat. He settles into his seat, glances across at his first.

“Number One,” he begins, “may I ask you something?”

“Of course, sir,” Riker replies goodnaturedly, brow raised. “Do we need to adjourn?”

“Oh no, we’re just fine here. A simple example of wordplay for you, if you’ll indulge me.”

The brow hitches further, and the beginnings of a grin form on his friend’s lips.

“A riddle, Captain? Haven’t humoured those in a while. Go ahead.”

He recites Q’s riddle verbatim, and Riker stares at him for a moment, expression bemused.

“... I’ll be honest with you, sir,” he says eventually, “was kind of hoping for something more elaborate.”

Picard blinks for a second, nodding.

“Mm, so was I,” he replies dryly, staring up at the viewscreen. “It really isn’t any more interesting than the obvious, is it?”

“Don’t think so, no. Sorry to disappoint you.” Riker grins, shrugging, and Picard smiles back.

“Forget I asked, Commander. Thank you anyway. You have the bridge.”

--------

He finds exactly who he’s been looking for for a while in Engineering; Data’s halfway up a Jeffries tube, reciting conduit issues to the computer, and Picard crouches down, glancing up at his second.

“Mister Data,” he greets, “you’re quite the poet, I’m sure you’ll enjoy a riddle I’ve been pondering.”

Data’s head quirks to a curious angle given the lack of space, bewildered.

“Would you prefer we discussed this out in the open, Captain?” He enquires mildly, and Picard barely represses a smirk.

“No, no need - I won’t take up much of your time.”

“As you wish,” says the android, voice echoing around the tube. “I must confess to being intrigued at the prospect, sir.”

“Knew you would be.” Picard smiles quietly, and plays the words back aloud.

“... There are eight hundred and sixteen potential responses in Federation standard,” he replies simply, “ranging from the metaphysical to the -”

“Alphabetical?” Another voice answers fondly, and Picard glances up at his grinning chief engineer. “Sometimes, Data, an egg is just an egg.”

“... I am perplexed by your choice of vernacular, Geordi. What do dietary requirements have to do with the Captain’s riddle?”

Picard doesn’t even need to stare up at the familiar puzzlement of the Commander to acknowledge it.

“Although Commander La Forge is most likely correct, sir - the most logical option is the most plausible in this instance. Riddles do tend to have simple conclusions, and none of the alternate options fit quite as well.”

Amusement fills Picard as he quietly excuses himself with a nod, leaving his colleagues exchanging confused glances.

-------

“Guinan,” he questions, half an hour from the starbase, “how are you with riddles?”

“I prefer my words less shadowed,” the El-Aurian replies from nine decks hence, matter-of-fact. “Why do you ask, Captain?”

“Personal curiosity,” he answers not untruthfully. “What do you make of this one?”

He recites it lightly, unconsciously leaning forward onto elbows as he awaits her response - if anyone aboard could have any manner of higher wisdom, it’s surely his old friend, her mostly eradicated race largely a mystery even to him -

Guinan clears her throat, and he can clearly visualise her dry expression.

“You’re a deeply intelligent guy, Jean-Luc,” she answers in exasperation. “You can’t tell me you don’t already know the answer to that.”

“Well of course I know it,” he exclaims woefully. “But I can’t help feeling it isn’t so easy.”

“... I mean, could be ‘nothingness’, I guess, but that’s even more ridiculous than the answer.”

“Mm,” he mutters in agreement, hesitating - his new relationship with Q isn’t something he ever wants to reveal to anyone, and especially not to Guinan, but perhaps a vague hint couldn’t hurt...

“If I told you this was set by someone known for being, well... difficult, would it alter your solution?”

“That’s most of the known galaxy in my experience. Are they also known for being stupid?”

Picard almost chokes on tea at the very idea. “Good lord, no.”

“No, then,” she replies honestly.

“... Ah.”

------

His afternoon of diplomacy having gone as well as it ever can with such an awkward ambassador and his mind as plagued as it’s become over the course of the day, Picard finds he can’t quite help himself as they arrive in transporter room one. The Risan’s clearly intelligent, has spent the last few hours desperately trying to prove as such, and amiable enough.

“Ambassador,” he asks as he nods at the chief, “perhaps a parting gift, as a show of good favour towards our new trade agreement. What humans would call a ‘riddle’; lateral thinking, in the form of wordplay.”

“I did think I’d had quite enough of your wordplay today,” replies the man indulgently, and Picard internally winces, “but as it’s an intellectual custom, please feel free.”

“Wonderful. Now...”

The Risan glances at him in disbelief a moment later.

“... Do they tend to be so simplistic, Captain?” He asks in amusement.

“Usually, yes,” he murmurs almost to himself. “Thank you, Ambassador. I’ll inform Starfleet of our conclusions post-haste, don’t let me keep you any longer.”

“Good show, Picard. Travel safe.”

“And you, Kanfla. Engage.”

Miles stares at him as he leaves, agape.

“... You do know that the answer, right sir?”

Picard rolls his eyes. “Yes, chief.”

------

He’s rather exhausted his options at this point, he realises darkly shortly before he clocks off. Beverly, whilst an invaluable friend and exceedingly helpful, is a woman of science and logic who will consider him likely in the first throes of something nasty and neurological if he starts questioning simple conclusions; Deanna, he acknowledges warily, is likely to assume him troubled and attempt to pry the depths of his psyche, and he takes little joy in being his dear counselor’s subject even when he needs to be. So that leaves -

He takes a subtle breath, and spins in his seat, glad the bridge crew’s on a split shift today and therefore that no one has to hear this twice.

“Mister Worf,” he begins primly.

“Captain?” The Klingon asks attentively.

“... May you indulge me for a moment?”

“Of course, sir.”

“A... riddle.” He almost grimaces, hides it admirably - he doesn’t doubt his lieutenant’s intelligence, but Worf is hardly known for his verbal subtleties or affection for the lateral; indeed, he looks mildly annoyed at the very notion.

“... Captain, with respect, I am not certain I would be of much use to you. Perhaps Counselor Troi would be a more... suitable choice.”

Picard’s lip twists for a split second, and he nods, pulls down his shirt promptly, and stares blankly out into space.

“... Mm,” he answers fairly. “As you were, Lieutenant.”

“... Yes, Captain.”

-------

He finds Q sipping something luminous from a spiral-shaped flute upon his return to his quarters, periwinkle blue sequins shimmering upon the evening robe he’s adopted, and the god grins at his appearance.

“Ah, mon capitaine!” He greets in delight, and damn his cursed riddles, but Picard admits privately that there’s something distinctly warm in his chest at the sight of him - of having someone he cherishes to come home to.

... Not that he has any intention of showing him as such, of course; their kiss is perfunctory at best, and his withdrawing look could sour honey.

“Oh, come now, dearest - you aren’t stuck, are you?” He teases, amused. “Do give me your answer, won’t you? The anticipation’s been driving me mad.”

Picard stares at him, trying desperately to cling to irritation rather than silently melt at the excitement in those eternal eyes.

“You challenge me,” he’d said not two nights earlier against a pillow, fingers trailing across his captain’s cheek. “IQ of two thousand and five, darling. I see everything, I can do everything; do you have any idea how rare that is?”

He valiantly maintains his exasperated countenance, and answers dryly, “The letter ‘e’.”

Q’s face falls with an almost comical suddenness.

“... What?” He says in disbelief. “What in the galaxies -”

He snaps, summons back the paper that’s spent its day upon the ready room desk, scanning it for a half-moment before raising disappointed eyes back to Picard’s bemused ones.

“Well yes, alright, fine,” he dismisses, “admittedly that does fit quite nicely, but did you really think I was going to offer you something with such a depressingly basic solution? Think about it, man!”

This is their acquaintance, Picard notes with a quiet thrill; the permanent game, ramped up to warp ten now that they’re lovers, every touch and night cycle whisper a tease, a promise, an idle nothingness laced with potential meaning.

He has no intention of failing, however little he has to prove any more, and so he thinks through that brilliant stare, mulls the words over his mind.

Beginning of everything; end of everywhere. Beginning of...

“... Ah,” he murmurs, humoured despite a certain weariness. “Ought to have realised it was self-indulgent.”

“’Self -’? Oh,” Q answers softly, smirking. “Well obviously it could be me, yes, but I was thinking rather, er... closer to home, Jean-Luc.”

Picard’s mouth opens, though he realises belatedly that he has nothing of note to say.

“You... meant me?” He asks dumbly, baffled. “How can I possibly be -”

“Perspective.” Q smiles warmly, dots fingers across his uniform before clasping a hand quietly. “You begin and end everything for me, my dear. Honestly, your colleagues are morons - you’re right here! How could that not have occurred to th -”

Picard embraces him spontaneously, buries himself in a warm chest, treasures the arms that encircle him fiercely in response.

“You’re an overly dramatic fool,” he scolds tenderly, no heat at all to the words. “You can just say things sometimes, Q.”

“Too dull,” he drawls, grinning from somewhere above his favourite mortal. “We don’t do dull, dearest.”

He presses a soft kiss to Picard’s skull, and the captain wonders idly how he could ever have been annoyed.

#qcard #writing #tng #jean-luc picard #Q #fic #this is peak domestic qcard tbh

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