#AND THE FACT THAT THE CONFLICT OCCURED IN A CITY WAS NOT THEIR FAULT | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

qqueenofhades · 4 months

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Ask and ye shall receive - how about a prompt around spiced winter drinks? Dealers choice on the fandom, maybe Dreamling or the Ren/Grey/Vargo ot3?

It’s one of the bitterest nights of the dwindling year, the canals glazed with ice and the pale stone warrens of Nadežra filled with eerie curls of mist, and even the altans and altas most dedicated to nocturnal misbehavior are generally inside, bundled up by warm fires or tucked in warm beds, and while Vargo certainly doesn’t have a philosophical objection to either activity (indeed, far from it) it unfortunately happens that he has to fucking work. It seems impossible that the piles of paper on his desk should have sprung to twice their original height in the last three days since he looked at them, but that’s the thing about political independence; it’s decidedly a double-edged sword. On the one hand, you get to arrange your own affairs. On the other, you… have to arrange your own affairs, and since Seterin has sat up and taken sharp notice of all these Vraszenians suddenly running around and exulting in their freedom, it heralds other possible conflicts down the line. That, Vargo supposes, is where sleeping with not just one but two legendary outlaws is likely to come in useful. If nothing else, they do have practice at this sort of thing.

A reluctant smile twitches his lip as he dips his pen and reaches unhappily for the first stack of correspondence. He misses Alsius – well, he always misses Alsius, but more than usual, who would absolutely love the boring nuts and bolts of this stuff, whereas it makes Vargo want to put his own eyes out with a hot stick. He scribbles and mutters and adds up figures, makes note of new requisitions and trade tariffs, ordinances of the freshly expanded Septerat; he doesn’t like it, but of course he didn’t rise to his original position by accident. The candles gutter low into waxy gremlins, and he thinks about drawing a numismata to keep them up, but that would suggest he will in fact be stuck here all night, and that’s a little too depressing to think about. Somebody’s got to do the ordinary grunt work while his dearly beloveds are running around the city in their silly costumes, but by the Lumen, why does it have to be him?

Just then, as he’s massaging the ache in his hand and thinking of some really good curses, Vargo smells a wisp of cinnamon, hears the faint creak of the floor, and turns halfway around, just as Ren leans down and presses a kiss into the side of his head. Voice rich and low with promise, she remarks, “Grey and I both perhaps feel we are being neglected.”

“This is your fault, you know,” Vargo grumbles, without heat. “Making me be the respectable one. And can’t you two entertain each other?”

Ren gives him another slightly wicked smile. “It’s more fun with you.”

Yes, Vargo agrees, it is at that. He vainly attempts to pretend that he will be doing paperwork for a few more moments – then, at Ren’s insistent tug, gets to his feet and lets her lead him down the hall, toward his private quarters at the back of the villa. Halfway there, a terrible thought occurs to him, and he stops short. “Is Arkady here?”

Ren bites a smirk. “She’s asleep. Upstairs. Even formidable knot bosses have to get their beauty sleep.”

“I very much doubt that,” Vargo mutters, since it seems unlikely that the newly-minted Alta Arkady Bones Vargonis has ever thought about beauty sleep in any capacity. But he’s glad to hear that she’s out of the way, after one too many moments when she nearly caught the three of them in flagrante delicto, and if Arkady knows a juicy secret like that, there’s no chance she’ll keep her trap shut instead of gleefully spilling it, if nothing else to see him squirm. It turns out, Vargo reflects sourly, that even without blood relation, his adopted daughter is very much like him in the hellraising department. In fact, far too much so. After all for the Nadežrans, blood is incidental, and secondary to whether an individual is inscribed in the family register. Arkady is, and that makes her as much his own, heir to his means and methods and moods, as if he did sire her in the ordinary fashion. Ažerais help them all.

He feels a sudden warmth on his face as they step into the lowlit sitting room, and gratefully spots the fire – which Grey Serrado is presently stoking, on his knees before the grate like a common scullion, which is possibly one of the less glamorous tasks ever asked of the great Rook. Still, it gives Vargo a certain glow, an inner warmth not just from the fire, and he strides inside. “Well, you two degenerates got my attention. What is it?”

Grey gets to his feet, brushing the soot off, and gives Vargo a ferocious stare that silently remarks he has the hells of a lot of nerve calling anyone else a degenerate. Still, he shrugs, crosses the carpet, and brushes the ghost of a kiss against Vargo’s cheek, while Ren cheerily shoves him onto the settee. Vargo is opening his mouth to ask what exactly they are intending to do to him, now that they’ve lured him here by bribes and trickery, but Grey forces a cup of hot spiced wine into his hand, and Vargo blinks at it. “Ah. What’s this?”

“Drink it,” Grey orders him, with the steely tones of the former Vigil captain, and Vargo fights a traitorous urge to salute. “You’ve been working too hard.”

“I thought you two were going to – ”

“Maybe later.” Ren perches on his other side and gives him another smile – still tinged with dark and wicked promise, the Rose’s thorns, but wistful as well, softer, and just wanting the three of them to have this quiet moment together in the cold winter night. “Drink.”

Far be it from him to refuse an order from Alta Renata and Grey Serrado at once, Vargo thinks, even without their alter egos. And is that not the reason for all the trouble he’s gotten himself into, either in past, present, or future? But there is nothing else he would rather do, and no one else he would rather be with, in all this city of Faces and Masks. He lifts the cup, grins into the brim with a tenderness that seems impossible for his heart to bear, and drinks.

#anonymous #ask #rook and rose #ren x grey x vargo #winter prompts #THANK YOU FOR THIS OPPORTUNITY ANON #blessings on your house and cow etc

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viviennevermillion · 2 years

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Pantalone's Backstory

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note: welcome to "I give my favorite character a very depressing backstory before we get one in canon". suffer with me. these are some headcanons I made up for what might have happened in pantalone's life. I cried writing this, I am in pain

contains: angst, general headcanons about his backstory, me making up stuff about his family tree, the ✨ baizhu ✨ conspiracy

warnings: mentions of death and illness of loved ones, exploitation by the rich, prostitution, terrible working conditions, miscarriage, descriptions of bullying and abuse (most of these things do not happen to pantalone himself but his family members)

P a n t a l o n e

Pantalone has been loved before but he's learnt that without money, love was not able to thrive nor last.

The first instance in which he notices this was his mother.

Pantalone was born into a rather poor family, with his dad being the one to bring home all the earnings for the family. They lived in a worn-down old house near the city and his dad owned a little restaurant that the locals would frequently visit.

When a wealthy business man opened a restaurant chain in the city, Pantalone's father was "in the way" and thus the man caused the little restaurant and its owner to go bankrupt. Left with a mountain of debt and no source of income to reasonably pay it off with, Pantalone's father along with the whole family was catapulted into poverty and having to fight for enough resources to keep all family members alive and healthy.

The business man eventually married Pantalone's mother after she had left the family to be with him. Pantalone was very young at the time and did not understand why his mother had just abandoned them. Why he couldn't have all the things they did. Why she turned him away when he showed up at their doorstep wanting to see her. Why he never got any special gifts like the other kids his age

While the other children would often come to school with brand new, shiny toys that their parents bought them for their birthday or other holidays, the most Pantalone had was wooden figures handmade by his dad. Which he appreciated of course. He knew his father could not afford anything else. The other kids however did not.

They'd often make fun of him for his second-hand clothing that came from cheap merchant stands or donations and for being poor and very thin. There were times Pantalone was malnourished because his family didn't always have enough food. The other kids would break the toys his dad made for him, calling them pathetic.

When Pantalone tried to fight back he was reprimanded by his teachers because "violence is not the answer" despite the fact that Pantalone was a very weak child who couldn't seriously injure anyone nor was he at fault for the conflicts that had occured.

When times were particularly bad, his father would have to beg for money on the streets. Pantalone remembers being 10 and coming to see his dad only to watch him be beaten up and spat at by the drunk heir to a wealthy family. Pantalone remembers asking his father what happened and him just trying to smile, pat his head an tell him not to worry about it. Pantalone remembers what he felt like when he knelt down beside his father to fish the Mora out of the dirt and puddles where the man had tossed his father's hat in which he collected the money people had given him.

When Pantalone was 14, his sister who was ten years older than him became pregnant from a man who had left her upon finding out about the baby.

Because she feared not having enough Mora to care for both herself and her son, Pantalone's sister turned to prostitution to be able to feed her kid once he was born, as no other workplace had agreed to hire her.

Due to complications with the pregnancy and the lack of necessary financial aid to pay for the medical support, Pantalone's sister lost her child before it was even born.

Not long after, she herself passed away in what was framed as "an unfortunate work accident".

Pantalone had held his sister's hand on the hospital bed during her final moments

Over and over again Pantalone had to watch the rich enjoy themselves at the expense of his family. He had to watch them bring ruin upon the people he cared about. He witnessed them pray to the gods and thank them for blessing them with the wealth they had. And all the while Pantalone asked himself why the gods hated him and his family. What his dad and his sister had done to deserve the hand they were dealt.

That's what Pantalone internalized. That the gods despised him and that he would despise the gods in return. That they deserved to be destroyed.

Pantalone's father eventually took on a mining job. The miners would gather precious gems in harsh conditions that would later be used to craft fine jewelry for the rich and entitled. His dad already suffered from health issues due to the bad work environment and often came home with injuries, but the job paid enough for him to be able to provide for his son somewhat properly.

But when his father was caught trying to steal some gems to free them from the poverty they lived in, he was forced to work for even longer each day in order to not be fined and forced into even more debt. While his father was at work for 13 hours each day, Pantalone would take care of the household.

In his youth he often took on simple jobs to help out his dad.

The terrible working conditions have left Pantalone's father in bad health conditions and he's also in a wheelchair now and cannot speak anymore after an accident while mining in the mountains.

Pantalone has learnt sign language to communicate with his father.

The reason why he and Dottore are rather close is because Pantalone provides the funding for Dottores experiments while Dottore uses his medical knowledge to make sure Pantalone's father is kept in stable condition and is able to live for longer than the doctors had expected him to.

After becoming the richest Fatui Harbinger, Pantalone had met his mother again on the street. The woman did not recognize him anymore as she hadn't seen him in decades and now she was ready to engage in idle chit-chat with the man she thought was a stranger. He had asked her questions about her life with the false, polite smile he always wore on his face and she'd happily answer them, bragging about her life that was filled with nothing she had ever truly earnt. Pantalone looked at her face and remembered how he rang her doorbell in the pouring rain when he was 6. How he saw her glimpse through the curtains and pretend that she wasn't home. How her husband eventually sent him away and threatened to call the authorities if Pantalone wouldn't leave their property.

Pantalone remembered everyone who had brought ruin upon him and his family. He abandoned his given name, became "Pantalone", bought out their businesses and sent them spiraling into financial debt just as they had once done with his father. He made sure their shadiest deals and their crimes would become public to remove any chance for them to exit the poverty they were now forced to live in. The tables had turned for Pantalone.

As for his mother's husband....well, the man eventually died under "mysterious circumstances" after Pantalone had hired an assassin to take care of the matter.

Pantalone's mother was now a rich widow and the wealth of her late husband belonged to her and the son she had with him. The golden child who was given every support he ever needed. Who grew up in luxury and was able to study medicine due to his parents' funding of his studies. Pantalone had never held a conversation with his half-brother, but the intel he had on him was enough for him to despise that pharmacist with every fiber of his being.

Now that he had taken care of the wealthy, the gods would be next.

#genshin impact #pantalone #pantalone headcanons

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tseneipgam · 1 year

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“one tenth of the earth's surface has been constantly on fire, through no fault of human beings, for more than two hundred years. A look at a dynamic map of all the fires currently raging on the planet would reveal a multitude of these expanding red zones being carried forth by surface winds, in Africa es- pecially, the continent referred to by experts in the field as the Heart of the Inferno. I found it startling to consid- er that our human modernity had developed side by side with this incandescent presence. Some years ago, a musician friend told me about a long stint he'd once spent in an African jungle. Wanting to make recordings of instances of silence in nature, he had travelled to Lake Tanganyika in Tanzania, the second largest and second deepest lake on the planet. 'So deep, he said, 'that there's no oxygen in the waters at the very bottom. They're fossil waters: A helicopter had dropped him off in a clearing in the surrounding jungle with nothing but a tent, a change of clothes and some survival snacks, plus the necessary gamut of recording equip- ment, all manner of tapes and ambient microphones. He saw no fires burning, or if he did, he didn't mention them to me, but he did say that, after a month and more of wandering those jungles, what struck him most was the utter absence of silence.”

“historically, we only ever keep a record of evil deeds. In fact, we only legislate for that which we consider to be pernicious; it never occurs to anyone to legislate for good or happi- ness. It was as though evil was actually held in higher regard than what's good. By this same logic, what's good, with no one keeping an account of it or checking it in any way, is a kind of echo that resounds to the ends of what is known, and its expansion, like that of the uni- verse, will know no limits. And another consequence to this: it makes it pointless, utterly redundant, to ever dis- cuss good, and that has the effect of making it even more invisible. Hence why, contrary to popular belief, it’s revo lutionary to speak of good things.”

“I picked up the book, Physics at the Residencia de Estudiantes. I tried to read the rest of the 'Stellar Universe' chapter, the talk by Sir Arthur Eddington on the Belgian priest Lemaitre who, as I've said, discovered the fact of the universe's expansion, but I found I couldn't get beyond the phrase, 'There are some stars so dense that a tonne of their mat- ter would fit inside a matchbox.”

“Back in bed again, I watched the snowflakes falling on the palm tree, and thought how no two snowflakes are the same, but all, without exception, have six points distributed symmetrically around a single centre point. I know that in any place where symmetry is lacking, it's because, in that portion of planet Earth, the forces of nature are in conflict; eddying river water and human migration flows are such sites of conflict. Thus a snow- flake can be called an isolated point, a place in which the forces keeping the crystals from flying apart are not in competition with anything. Snowflakes are bunkers, isolation chambers, unreachable bubbles; these were my thoughts as I lay in the bed, staring blankly out at the precipitate of each and every one of those snowflakes. And this thought concerning bunkers and points of isolation brought with it another in turn: the possibil- ily of the existence of a place where, densely packed together, all the memories of a person are contained: a neighbourhood, a city, a room or street bevond which a person would relinquish their memories, and thereby all awareness, of what had gone before; they'd only need to go back across the threshold of that street for all the instability and turbulence that is memory to be activat ed once more.”

“It's like when you gather a group together, saying you want a photo, but then press the button to record video instead - they're expecting a photo, but you press record. Then you watch it back and you fall over laughing, and the people you tricked also find it the funniest thing. An unimaginable number of strange contortions pass over a person's face in the moments before thev're frozen in a photo. I thought I'd have liked to perform that same trick with the photos in Aillados, to have witnessed what the people in them were saying immediately prior to the capture of those images, the looks they gave one another and the tiny fluctuations of expression just before their portrais were taken; that surely wouldn't have been funny.”

“it all boils down to trash, blessed trash. He was a man of about seventy, dressed in an ash-grey suit pinstriped like a diplomat's, with a white shirt and cuff links, brogues, blue eyes, hair to match the suit and a moustache with tips waxed to point straight upwards, a detail that made him look astonishingly like Salvador Dali. He sat down on the bench beside us. I was about to say something, but he started talking before I could: My good men, trash is not a thing that should be re- cycled, the best thing is to leave it where it falls, one day we'll be buried by all the trash, it'll be the end of us, but not because of an excess of it, rather by default, and if we recycle it all, what will become of memory? How will we recognize our past selves if everything's already been radically transformed? Future archaeologists wont have any objects to work with, only files, computer files; oh, you'll have objects, yes, but only the ones we place in museums and other sites intended to transmit the most curated samples of our world to generations to come, and all of this, my good men, will be completely worth- less; bear in mind that everything useful we know about former civilizations is that which they left behind unin- tentionally, that which was accidentally dropped and forgotten about, the things they threw away and never bothered to gather or recycle, that's to say, their trash, it's this kind of random thing that truly tells us what past civilizations were like, and these things, the constants of the universe, are what join us to our forebears, because in the time to come there will be objects that neither change nor are capable of change, or, more precisely, and as paradoxical as it might seem, for a transformation to take place something has to remain the same, for example, in a chemical reaction everything changes, but the overall mass remains constant, and if it doesn't, the change can't take place, or, for example, consider the well-known story of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, where the main character's personality changes, but his social en- vironment, his home and the city he lives in go virtually unaltered, because if that weren't so, if in that story ev- erything changed completely, there couldn't be a story, the narration would simply fizzle out, do you under- stand? Well, the same goes for trash, if we eliminate it or transform it into another thing altogether, recycle it in a Wholesale way, we'll be disconnecting ourselves from history, our history, and that would mean ending up in a kind of reality parallel to the civilizations that went before us, while, paradoxically, remaining linked to them, and I really mean this, my good men, this isn't sci-fi l'm talking about, this is real life”

“Neil Armstrong goes to the moon and takes twenty photographs, the most import- ant event of the twentieth century and there's only twenty photographs of it, but any teenage birthday party in this city, or any other city on the planet, will generate two hundred photographs-plus, is that not grotesque? Where's the sense in it? Where are we going to put all these images? In fact, by transforming them into digital files, files nobody will be able to read in a few years' time, since the programs needed to open them won't exist any more, what we'll actually be doing is obliterat- ing those moments, they'll disappear and never come back, and what this amounts to is a slow but certain ne- gation of material itself, nothing short of a disaster, but that's not even the worst of it, my good men, now we get to the nub, by which I mean the recycling of bodies, how we hate the body, with what furious intensity do we seek to do away with it”

“Come night. I'd get up from my desk and see a man in the building across from mine who, standing there in his underpants, would heat up frozen beans in a pan. America is a very sad place. All there is there is sadness.” “Cities that experience very hot summers and very cold winters seem to me like bags of frozen food, frozen and defrosted over and over again: you need only tear open the plastic to see how inedible the contents have become. And that's precisely what I think my walks amounted to: a way of wearing down the outermost layer of the pave- ments, the skin, eventually to have it rip open of its own accord, so that I could then take a look inside.”

“have you noticed the way people always talk about large numbers of people migrating in terms of migration "flows", them "flooding" an area, "stream" of immigrants, that kind of thing?' 'Pardon?' just mean, the language always tends to be liquit-t lated - "Flows", "streams", "floods" - like it was water light or wind being talked about. I sometimes woris What would happen if we referred to movements of par Ble in terms of what they are, which is to say a sucesil aireal, solid bodies, the sum of a whole lot of parild all independent of one another 'don't you think that would change everything?”

“a few days earlier on the plane from New York City to Montevideo, when I'd sat looking at the emergency instructions they put in the seatbacks. These had a picture of a woman looking out at you from the sea with a flotation device in her hands after an apparent crash-landing. She reminded me of Venus in Botticelli's The Birth of Venus. Maybe it was the look in her eyes, or the way the wind tossed her hair, or her facial features, which were surprisingly similar, or her unsettling calm. As though, instead of having just been in plane crash, she'd that very moment been born out of the waters.”

“January 1889, Nietzsche is known to have left his Turin residence on Via Carlo Alberto, intending to walk into the city centre. He'd gone barely two hundred metres when, coming onto the Piazza Carignano, he pulled up at the sight of a recalcitrant horse being flogged by its driver. Nietzsche approached and, throwing his arms around the beast's neck, whispered something in its ear that to this day remains a conundrum: 'Mother, I am stu- pid.' He immediately went back home, where he lost the power of speech and soon passed out, not coming round until a decade later, a few days before his death in 1900. A period Nietzsche would have no memory of whatsoever.”

“The darkness in that moment was total, the car headlights sweeping across expanses of yellow grass which, with the wind blowing through it, looked like liquid gold. We passed a cowshed, one wall of which was covered in a confused mass of graffiti; I just had time to read a part that said: 'God doesn't fear the news. God is the News. We saw a chapel a little further on with a cemetery: didn't know if the creature lying outside the entrance was a dog or coyote. Driving at night is a question of try- ing to see things before you reach them; by the time you do, the headlights have moved on to something else. This same anticipation, I said to myself, applies in life gener- ally given that life is a journey through darkness at the end of which, in dying, you emerge into the light of day.”

“some years later the city would be filled with the mixed smell of burnt plastic and roast chicken, a smell that lingered for a couple of years in the south of the island. 200,000 tonnes of steel, 325,000 m2 of concrete, 55,000 m2 of glass from 43,600 blown-out windows, 198 elevators, each of which had an average capacity of 55 people, 71 escalators, 930,000 m2 of office interiors, 3,000 hu- mans, all reduced to dust. I was installed in the Home by then, but people say that particles, both organic and inorganic, got into every single corner of the city, into people's lungs and homes, into their food and their mat- tresses. It must be pretty strange knowing you've got particles of people's spleens inside you, particles of pens and hair, of Turkish rugs and asbestos, of the glasses for merly worn by young graduates, of silicon from people's breast implants, of adipose tissue, cockroaches, mosqui los, rats, sirloin steaks and trout from the Great Lakes. Preity strange, truly, to go around in the knowledge that This entire superstore of destruction is inside you, and always will be.”

“To clarify: it's tradition in my father's family for the oldest son in each genera- tion, in the presence of all available adults on the day, to extract a portion of wood from his father's coffin, only a small portion so as not to break the coffin, and then to carve it into a fob, in any shape or motif that should oc- cur to him. The keys to all the houses and properties he went on to own were supposed to be attached to it for the rest of his days. The tradition dates back farther than l know for certain, but I do know it started before the days of political parties as we now think of them. We are our dead past, all the coffins that go before us: so my father said to me one spring afternoon when I was nine years old, as we stood in the kitchen at the ranch, him jangling the keys on his familial fob - a pinewood rectangle the same size and shape as a dollar bill. I remember a cow outside the window stooping to drink from a meltwater stream - the winter ice was melting - and how it licked its lips and lowed as if to make light of my father's words.”

“he sat flicking his cell phone on and off. He wanted, he said, to try to get one over on the phone makers by turn- ing it on and off, and on and off, quicker than the light from the screen could keep up. I told him to quit it, he was going break the thing. 'Did you know that as foetuses we're 72 per cent heart,' Semicolon said, 'and at that point the heart's out- side the actual body?' To which I said: 'Did you know that the brain itself doesn't experience pain, so if someone shoots a bullet into your brain, you feel nothing? You just wind up a dumbass, like you. Know the only creature on earth that never gets can- cer is a shark?' *Know some planets have two suns, meaning it never gets dark there?'”

“I saw the vast and endemic tiredness of a mother”

“we saw some men in uniform pulling a dead body out of the water, somebody said it was an illegal immi- grant, we looked at the body and said nothing, made no comment except to say 'Time to go', and the next day she told me that the thought had occurred to her that the clothes of people who drown are more durable than the flesh of people who drown, this seemed an incredible thought to me, but it left her feeling extremely low, she said, because she was studying textile design, or possi- bly it was dressmaking, I never did get my head around the name of the course, and from that day on every time she went to cut the shoulder section of a jacket or part of a trouser leg the thought would come to her that she was really making a fabric coffin for someone who had drowned, isn't this an incredible thought?”

“we're so proud and arrogant, nothing's ever good enough, and now the cruise ship is so far out I can only just see it, those on board will be sipping martinis on the loungers by the covered pool, gazing up at the sky through the transparent roof cover, fixing their sight on the night clouds in an attempt to find answers to the questions they've been pondering their entire lives, questions they hope to solve in this voyage, and here I am, taking it all in with a single sweeping glance, I am a lasso, I snare objects and then bring them inside myself in miniature, the human gaze is capable of such things, shrinking the entire world so that it fits onto your retina, the sparks flying, pouring now from the let- ter'e, if somebody doesn't unplug that neon sign, I'll say it again, we're going to have us one chargrilled man, maybe even a building fire, but all of this is yet to hap- pen, sometimes nothing happens at all, we always want something to happen, we wait and hope, we don't know what for, only that we've waited in vain. The cruise ship is nothing but a speck in the far distance now, a boat for- merly moored on land, it was built on land and will never reach land again, isn't this the most terrible thing? Like a bird that took to the air and had to stay up there forever, forever beating its wings, never allowed to land. I shut my eyes.”

“Cigarette #18 There's a moment in the day when he's lying in bed and the clocks on display in the homeware section synchro- nize for a second - all the second hands align - and the entire mall shakes, as though the nervous system of the world were making its presence known. And there are moments when he and the birds are awoken by the sound of food cans expanding in the heat, bulging like footballs, or by the bicycles suddenly falling from their complex system of wall mounts, or a huge bang made by a box of snacks, all having rotted and fermented inside their bags and all passing their expiration date and ex- ploding at once. A feeling comes over him as though he's the guardian of a kind of Noah's Ark, like this is a spiritual reservation. a museum for an extinct mode of being. Previously, he thinks, the frenetic consumption of products meant they had to re-fill the shelves constant- ly. Nobody ever got to see what would happen in a mall if you just left it to evolve with no human intervention, like a nervous system unto itself. This is a kind of destruction nobody was ever taught about.”

“it's no coincidence that a mentally deranged animal is inconceivable, as is the idea of the planet ever malfunctioning. Any time we refer to a certain stone as beautiful or ugly, or see a bee buzzing around a flower and say it's working to make honey for our consumption, and even when we speak tenderly to a domestic pet, we're being completely ignorant, given that these flowers and rivers, these auto- mobiles and bees, these books and animals have never needed us and never will; they have their own social structures, so infinitely separate from our own as to be forever invisible to us. Which means there's no way for us to converse with an ant or an automobile, a book or a nation, a river or a pet, and not because they don't un derstand us, but because we don't understand them. All of this I thought on arriving in Honfleur and seeing thal woman petting her small dog. I wished he were with me to share this discovery. He, who was not a bee, or river. automobile, nation or pet, but a man - a male of the spe cies, I mean.”

“it was dawn and the summer's day already warm, but a layer of dew, dazzling white, still covered the grass. Taking two glass jars out of his rucksack and handing me a pipette, he asked me to help him collect drops of the dew one by one, Not that it's medicinal or anything like that.' he said, 'rather it's that our immediate future is concentrated in these drops, each and every one is something akin to the essence of the day to come. And we gathered the dewdrops from the blades of at least a metre-square of grass, which as I found out for myself is a lot of dewdrops. I spent the rest of the day peering into my jar to see if I could discern something in the crystal- line dew, though in reality I didn't even know what I was looking at, whereas he, sitting down to breakfast at the hotel when we got back, took his and simply drank it in one, before closing his eyes and spending the duration of the morning as if asleep - 'as if because, though he kept his eyes shut, he'd still answer when spoken to.”

“as we continued along the Normandy coast, convinced as we were that it's only from the peri- pheries of things, only from their farthest shores, that we have any chance of comprehending their true nature. And this is a universal principle for each and every one of us, such that we have to distance ourselves from our own lives if we want to get a view of its contours and its outline, to work out what kind of beast this life of ours really is, and then, only then, is it possible to call a life 'entire’ “

“The thought I finally fell asleep with was how little interest I had in what the D-Day landings sur- vivors saw, compared to what the dead saw; this, the story of the dead, would be the True Story of the D-Day landings, information we have no access to and that must nonetheless be somewhere, hidden information, the unknown B-side to the fabric of our reality, so un- known that we spend our time creating substitutes for it: the story of the dead is substituted by the story we the living make up about them, and the unfolding of civil- izations is that of an infinite chain of substitutions. Indeed, a painting of a landscape makes no attempt to know what might be hidden in that landscape, rather it seeks to substitute it, and a fire doesn't seek to know what is hidden in a forest fire, it just wants substitute it, and the lift has no interest in trying to understand what the hell these things we call stairs are, it just tries to sub- stitute them, and saccharin doesn't try to find what's hidden in sugar, only to substitute it, and sugar in turn doesn't try to uncover whatever's hidden in other food- stuffs, it just substitutes their calorific potential with a single teaspoon, and, in turn, sugar was invented during the industrial revolution to get more out of the workers, the children who worked in mines especially, a dessert spoon of sugar was as good as two plates heaped full of beans and bacon, which means that the white of sugar is littered with the corpses of children. Yes, coal - not by coincidence black like coffee - and the industrial revo- lution it fired cannot be understood without its opposite, sugar so white.”

“the tide was out, it had left an assortment of different seaweeds, oyster and clam shells on display, as well as these objects that, after you throw them away, you don't know how or why they come back, bottle tops, for instance, bleached and slightly malformed, they seemed almost like pebbles, almost, I would say, no longer arti- licial. Why was it, I wondered, that nature caused things we call 'artificial' to bleach to such an extent, to the point that a bottle top becomes indistinguishable from a peb- ble, and at the same time creates things as colourful and dearly distinguished as flowers, insects and rocks; I couldn't come up with an answer, but I did suppose that it was because of this that houses periodically need re- painting but cliffs and flowers don't.”

“I remember a set of footprints across a snow-covered ath- letics track, a single set of footsteps but, like everything in Switzerland, not in the slightest bit dramatic, and ac- companied by the tyre tracks from a bicycle; it could legitimately have passed for a musical score.”

“I thought of a very black Earth, the planet burned to a crisp, and though it obviously meant losing some time I decided to go down the recently asphalted section of road that led to it, which gave off that smell of fossils brought back to life common in all petrol derivatives, always particularly strong at petrol stations - any time I stop to fill up, I pause and breathe it in, this being the yearning for fire we all of have inside ourselves: a match in my mouth at that moment and the whole place would have gone up in flames.”

“A little while earlier, other, more commonplace layers of geology had started to emerge: granite mainly, seamed with quartz, which would have made life hard for the German sappers tasked with cre- ating bunkers like the ones I soon started to see. These had the air of half-finished Easter Island effigies. The buildings in our cities are supported by a skeleton of pil- lars, vectors plunging vertically into the ground, reaching towards the centre of the earth, while bunkers are a compact, unitary mass, like a loaf of concrete bread baked just once and in a single mould, and, more signif- icant than that, they go in no particular direction, and are apparently unaffected by the earth's movements, if an earthquake hit they'd simply roll over on themselves until they came into a new stability, a new equilibrium: they could soon be re-inhabited again. Bunkers are more like a cork bobbing around on water than some- thing actually built on the ground.”

“I thought how unnecessary we are to flies, rats, scrub and stones, and to the dead as well - none of these things need us, we simply invent connections to them. like or dislike, where no connections in fact exist. Thad seen a few months earlier that 2016 was the year of Aristotle, since it was the 2,400th anniversary of his birth, but is it really possible to talk about the anniversa- ry of a birth that happened so archaeologically long ago? How can the exact year of Aristotle's birth be known? It can't. We make it up. That birth happened so long ago that it now exists outside of time. We're forever anthropologizing. It's a little like the quotations attribut- ed to famous people on the internet: ninety-eight per cent of these are incorrect, and it makes as much sense to attribute them to those women and men as it does to the corpses populating these bunkers or the flies that come buzzing off them and land next to our feet, made-up quotations that only succeed in creating a somewhat co- herent representation of the past, which is the same as saying they project a convincing hologram of the future; we look for certainty, we die in fear, that's all there is. It then seemed very clear to me that war filters through ev- erything, not just through geological layers but botanical, biological and even informational layers; a veritable network of war is spread out below the ground on which we stand.”

“Mount Ararat, the highest peak in Turkev, lies near the borders with Iran and Armenia, and is a dormant volcano whose perpetually snow- capped peaks stand more than 5,000 metres above sea level. It is the symbol of the Armenian people. As Wikipedia puts it: 'It is claimed that a large "anomalous" shape at the summit could be Noah's Ark, according to research carried out by Porcher Taylor on satellite im- ages taken in 1955. The "anomaly" (a structural abnormality not common to a mountain) shown in these images is 309 metres long, which would tally with the 300 x50 cubits the Ark is described as measuring in the Book of Genesis.' Astronauts also claim to have seen these shapes. This kind of thing may be satellites' and astronauts' best-kept secrets, and by this I mean not what they see when they are up in space and look into outer space - the contents of which has no importance except for in novels, films and comics - but what they see when they look down at Earth, at our home, the only thing that actually has any impact on us. The day they feel compelled to say what the Earth is truly like from so far away, we won't even be able to believe it, we'll go higher and higher but only in order to look back down. down into the centre of ourselves.”

“After an update on the Brexit referendum, which was due to take place immi- nently, a live football match came on, one being played on the other side of the planet. The ball went from one end of the pitch to the other and I thought what a terrify- ing and at the same time irremediably magical thing it is for 300 million people to be turning their heads to the left in unison; this perhaps is the last truly communal action left on the face of the Earth.”

“One of those boats was shipwrecked off the coast, it quickly became legend not because of what it was transporting, which in the end was just ground-up bones, bone-dust that's sunk to the bottom of the estuaries around here and nobody's ever going to get out, but because people said the boat was made from these Asian trees inside which diamonds grow; bizarre as it sounds, you get dia- monds spontaneously appearing inside one in ten thousand of that kind of tree; it's generated by an imper- fection in the carbon inside the trunk itself, a little bit like the way pearls are generated inside oysters. People around here have burned every single plank or scrap of wood that's washed up on the shores ever since, hoping to come up with one of those diamonds.”

#book

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denimbex1986 · 8 months

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'The last time I went to a cinema in London to watch a film I really wanted to see was more than 20 years ago. Time Regained, an adaptation of Marcel Proust’s À la recherche du temps perdu, was shown at an indie cinema in the West End. A couple of years later I happened to meet its director, Chilean filmmaker Raúl Ruiz, in the lobby of the hotel where I worked. I took the opportunity to thank him for turning the final volume of Proust’s great novel into a very fine film. However, I have never felt tempted to watch a blockbuster movie until I saw a poster for Oppenheimer in the London Underground.

The film opened simultaneously in London and the city of Srinagar, the town of my birth, which sits in a disputed region of India. When I was growing up, we had to wait for ages after its release date for a Hollywood film to reach a cinema in our town. I cycled many miles from my home to see American movies in a cinema called Broadway on the outskirts of town – its name a tribute to New York’s theatreland. I have never forgotten watching a scary Frankenstein film at Broadway as a youngster.

Like other cinemas in Srinagar, which is the largest city in the Kashmir region, Broadway closed for three decades because of political troubles. But as a friend told me over the phone, it has recently reopened as a multiplex and is now screening Oppenheimer to packed audiences.

I must confess that I hadn’t seen a Christopher Nolan film before – neither Dunkirk nor Interstellar. However, I wanted to watch Oppenheimer because it depicts a crucial moment in human history – the development and use of nuclear weapons. The fear of nuclear fallout is ever present in my native Kashmir, a region that’s surrounded by three of the world’s nine nuclear powers. It’s also home to several geological fault lines that run beneath its snow-clad mountains. Earthquakes, both manmade and natural, feel possible at any moment. In fact, India and Pakistan have come close to a nuclear confrontation twice in the past 24 years in the dispute over Kashmir. I was horrified when I saw a series of diagrams published in National Geographic during one of these near-catastrophic conflicts in 1999, depicting the many millions of people who would die in both of these countries if such an event were to occur.

Nolan’s film is based on the book American Prometheus: The Triumph and Tragedy of J. Robert Oppenheimer by Kai Bird and Martin J. Sherwin. Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein is also subtitled The Modern Prometheus. It’s an apt moniker for Oppenheimer – in Greek mythology, Prometheus, god of fire, tricks the god of gods, Zeus, and steals fire from Olympus in order to give it to humanity, but is condemned to suffer in eternity for his actions.

Oppenheimer himself was deeply interested in literature and the classics. He chose the code name Trinity for the first detonation of a nuclear bomb because he liked the 17th-century English poet John Donne, particularly his holy sonnet Batter my heart, three-person’d God. He read 19th-century French poet Charles Baudelaire’s Flowers of Evil while working on the first nuclear test. He was an aesthete who read Proust while on a walking holiday in Corsica and found a very reassuring passage in À la recherche about human moral frailty.

I hopped on my bike to go to see a matinee of Oppenheimer at an indie cinema in my neighbourhood in London. A small group of elderly cinemagoers, one of whom was using a walker, had arrived before me to see this historical saga. They must have been well acquainted with the McCarthy era, when several prominent Americans left the country and moved to Europe and Britain under suspicion of harbouring communist beliefs in the aftermath of the Second World War. Oppenheimer himself was under constant government surveillance while working on the Manhattan Project, having taken an interest in communism during his academic career. As Albert Einstein (portrayed in a cameo role in the film, though Einstein never participated in developing the bomb) once tellingly remarked: “The trouble with Oppenheimer is that he loves a woman who doesn’t love him – the United States government.”

After the war, government distrust would follow Oppenheimer for the rest of his career. When he met president Harry Truman at the White House in October, 1945 (the atomic bombs had been dropped in August), he apparently said: “Mr. President, I feel I have blood on my hands,” which privately enraged Truman. Martin J. Sherwin, co-author of the film’s source book, believes Oppenheimer’s words made the president see the scientist as a weakling. President Truman saw himself as ultimately responsible – somebody had to act decisively – and had ordered the bombs to be dropped on Japan.

Nolan’s film, shot both in monochrome and colour, also reveals the rivalry between Oppenheimer and Lewis Strauss, the U.S. Atomic Energy Commission chairman. Strauss would eventually bring about the downfall of the eminent Manhattan Project leader by having one of his colleagues send a letter to J. Edgar Hoover, head of the FBI, instilling doubts about Oppenheimer’s loyalty to the United States. It was a simple bureaucratic procedure with grave consequences. Before going to see Nolan’s film, I had watched the BBC documentary The Trials of Oppenheimer, which details the scientist’s appearance before an FBI security hearing in 1954. During the hearing, Oppenheimer described himself as “an idiot.” Being a genius is evidently no guarantee of wisdom.

Oppenheimer died of throat cancer in 1967, at the age of 62. But his tragedy doesn’t end there. A decade later, his daughter killed herself at the age of 32. She had struggled with her father’s death, but also constraints on her career. In 1969, she was denied a position as a translator in the United Nations because the FBI refused to grant her security clearance because of her father’s past entanglements.

Nolan’s film supplies interesting perspectives on the Oppenheimer story. The director seems painfully aware that Oppenheimer never properly apologized for the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the two Japanese cities he had contributed to shortlisting for the attacks. Despite his deep readings of Donne, who wrote 19 religious sonnets in remorse for his sins, Oppenheimer never publicly repented.

I left the cinema in the early evening. It had rained lightly and the pavement was wet. After watching this thought-provoking three-hour epic, I found that I had lost all sense of time.'

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earnestly-endlessly · 3 years

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Cherik angst!

Ooooh the angst!! The cherik fandom has an abundance of angst fics and I could probably make a list of hundred fics to recommend, but these are some of my favourite angsty cherik fics. I should warn you though, some of these require tissues.

Cherik Angst

Everyday Love in Stockholm – tahariel

Summary: Magneto is the ruler of the posthuman world.

His only secret? Charles Xavier, the human he's kept locked in his bedroom ever since his right-hand woman, Mystique, came to him pleading for mercy for her stepbrother, who accepted her mutant form and protected her as a child. The human he started fucking after Mystique was killed in battle, despite the guilt he feels at contaminating even this last promise to the woman who was integral to his life's work and happiness.

Boden’s Mate – kaydeefalls

Summary: "Shaw has information that we need, and we need him alive to extract it," Moira says, and there it is: the job is on the table. Extraction.

XMFC/Inception fusion AU. Erik is an extractor, Alex is his point man. They're assembling a team to go after the most dangerous mind in dreamsharing: Sebastian Shaw. But unless Alex and the team can keep him in check, Erik's desire for vengeance might just rip the whole job apart around them -- and then there's the shade that haunts his dreams...

Ritual Self-Torture – TurtleTotem

Summary: Shaw is King, Charles is his royal consort and Erik is a Knight/Lord. Shaw is sterile but his kingdom can't find out, so he asks Erik to impregnate Charles.

He doesn't know Erik and Charles are in love.

The Winter of Banked Fires – Yahtzee

Summary: Charles Xavier has returned from the dead -- but is lost within his own mind. Rogue has cast aside her own power and doesn't know where she fits in the world any longer. The production of synthetic Cure means mutantkind itself is newly at risk. And Magneto, turned human against his will, is in despair until the day he feels a familiar consciousness tugging at his own

Us – Pangea

Summary: “Charles,” Erik says, and if his voice hits a pleading note then who can really blame him, “Charles, it’s me.”

It takes several longer moments before Charles musters up the strength to answer, breath stuttering horribly as he tries to breathe. He’s shaking, entire body trembling.

“Erik,” Charles says, his voice cracking, “Erik, I want to die.”

Enigma – Yahtzee

Summary: Erik dies, or finds a reversey-time mutant, or a magical time travelling device, and wakes up in the past. This time, though, it's before he ever met Charles - in fact, it's before his mother died.

He can save his mother that one time (thanks to his mastery over powers carrying back), but what does Erik do after that? Does he stick around, or escape and run to find Charles again (and hope everything doesn't go wrong)?

By Faint Indirections – kianspo

Summary: Erik is in his ~50s, and lonely and bitter. He survived the Holocaust and was only ~14 when the war ended; and even ~40 years later, living in a country that helped to end WW2 and the Third Reich, homosexuality is still a taboo topic. Then one day, he stumbles over Charles, who is young(early 20s) and bright and smart and cheeky and full of energy and beautiful. And moving in the same street where Erik lives.

Lonesome on the Shelf – ikeracity

Summary: After three years of marriage, Charles has to admit that his relationship with Erik has significantly cooled off. These days, they're barely ever home at the same time and it seems like every conversation they have turns into an argument. Charles misses the way they used to be, misses the spontaneous dinner parties and the surprise morning sex and the wake up calls in the early mornings to catch the sunrise. But it's going to take two of them to fix this marriage, and some days, it seems as if all Erik wants is to be rid of him.

A fic about rekindling marriage.

When the Spell Breaks – kianspo

Summary: Erik, a high-profile lawyer with a successful career, meets a 21-year-old grad student in a bar, and within a few short months marries him. He and Charles are blissfully happy, until Erik's boss runs a background check on Charles and discovers he's been cheating on Erik. Charles denies everything, as there was no affair, but Erik doesn't believe him and throws him out. As Charles tries to figure out how to survive and stay at school that he can no longer afford and makes a lot of bad if not plain dangerous choices, Erik has to fight his own battle of discovering the truth and winning Charles back.

The Tower and the Hurricane – dreamlittleyo

Summary:(Post-movie AU.) Five years after Shaw's death, Erik's predictions prove painfully accurate. Violence rages on both sides of the human/mutant conflict. In a world ravaged by war, it doesn't really matter who's more at fault. Charles struggles to teach his students a better way, but what choices will he make when peace really isn't an option?

The Attempt – Yahtzee

Summary: Charles knows everything about Erik, knows how obsessive and self-destructive he is, how Erik would do anything, give anything, in his quest for vengeance against Shaw. But he also knows that Erik loves him in ways that aren't exactly platonic.

I'd like to see a completely straight!Charles, out of pure love and care of Erik, initiate a romantic relationship with him. It can be because he wishes to give Erik something positive in his life or because he thinks it might help change Erik's mind about Shaw, the reason is up to author. Also, while Charles finds intimacy with Erik strange and awkward, he does enjoy the new, non-romantic layers that have developed in their relationship.

Apple Seeds – pprfaith

Summary: Charles, Erik, apple seeds and Shakespearean love affairs.

Ashes, Ashes – winterhill

Summary: Post-apocalyptic AU — When the bombs fall, and mutually assured destruction occurs, it turns out that Shaw was right and radiation does enhance mutant powers. Snapshots of the XMFC main ensemble in the time after the bombs: Erik decides to stay, Moira thinks she might be the only human left, Raven is having trouble sleeping, and Charles is losing his mind.

Warnings: nuclear holocaust: death (death in general, not a specific character), cancer, burns, medical procedure, mutant powers gone awry

Five Bullet Points – Sperare

Summary: It was supposed to be Erik locked away in a prison one hundred stories below the ground.

Charles was never supposed to be there with him.

Tequila on a spaceship – faerie_ground

Summary: In 2014, Charles Xavier gets brutally murdered and Erik Lehnsherr spends the rest of his life mourning his death.

In 3014, Captain Lehnsherr and CMO Dr Xavier are colleagues, best friends and maybe a little more besides that aboard the Magneto I.

The Tower and the Hurricane – dreamlittleyo

Summary: Post-movie AU.) Five years after Shaw's death, Erik's predictions prove painfully accurate. Violence rages on both sides of the human/mutant conflict. In a world ravaged by war, it doesn't really matter who's more at fault. Charles struggles to teach his students a better way, but what choices will he make when peace really isn't an option?

Simple and Uncomplicated – Pookaseraph

Summary: Erik and Charles had been fuck buddies for some, but when Charles is in an accident he figured their relationship would be over. Erik's visit to his bedside in the hospital changes his assumptions even as he has trouble believing Erik is sincere.

Lazarus – Clocks

Summary: Erik is 19 when he says ‘I love you’ for the first time.

It would take five long years before Charles says it back.

Broken Eternity – CractasticDispatches

Sumnmary: It starts with being alone. It shouldn’t, perhaps, but it does because, of course, alone is what no one ever wishes to be.

Shout it Out Loud – dreamlittleyo

Summary: (Movie-Concurrent AU.) When Charles forges a telepathic link between himself and Erik, the two men find themselves bound together by more than just destiny. With the world on the brink of war, Charles and Erik struggle to cope with a psychic connection that may well be permanent.

Call Me By His Name – sinuous_curve

Summary: Charles wakes from the absence of noise.

There is an empty space in his room, beside his bed. Not quiet as in an abandoned room, but utterly, featurelessly blank. Like a box made of unblemished, impenetrable metal and Charles knows before he opens his eyes.

The Longest Word – septicwheelbarrow

Summary: "I'm Charles Xavier," he says, smiling from ear to ear. Then he gestures to his wheelchair. "Terminal spinal osteoblastoma, reaper due to collect in a year."

After some time, the man gestures at himself with a sardonic smile. "Same, one year. Lung." And then, reluctant, as if trying to keep his name to himself, "Erik."

I reject your reality and substitute my own. Doesn't really work that way, both ways.

Copy – chantefable

Summary: Charles wakes up without his memory. His sole caretaker, Erik, claims to be his husband, and tells him he's recovering from a car accident on their honeymoon.

Slowly falling for Erik again, Charles begins to regain his memories. He starts to notice strange things about his body, Erik, and their secluded mansion.

Myosotis – SomeCoolName

Summary: When Charles got back from Cuba, he lost the two things which made him stand: his legs and the love of his life, Erik Lehnsherr. Charles can get used to the wheelchair but he won't ever be able to get pass the loss of Erik.

"I wish I never met him" is something Charles says one night, maybe a bit drunk, absolutely wrecked for sure. It's a bit silly but Charles figures out his only solution is to use his own powers to erase Erik from his mind, progressively.

Except one day Erik comes back to the Xavier mansion to win him back. And even if Charles doesn't want to stop forgetting about him, Erik will do anything he can to convince him otherwise.

Das Haus am See – sareyen

Summary: The Lake House AU:

Erik is an estate planning lawyer who takes some time off to get away from the big city after his marriage fell apart. He lives in a picturesque lake house by Chautauqua Lake for almost two years, before moving back to New York City. This is in 2019.

Charles is a famous but very private author stuck in a creative rut, and moves to his lakeside estate for a short while to try and find a reason to write again. This is in 2017.

By magic or fate, Charles and Erik discover that the letter box at the lake house has the ability to send letters through time, between Charles in 2017 and Erik in 2019. Through letters that transcend the barriers of time, Charles and Erik fall in love. Charles vows to find Erik two years in his future, and Erik promises to wait for him. Two years - just two, meagre years.

But, fate is fickle, and time waits for no one.

Appropriate Boundaries – Yahtzee

Summary: Charles has been having serious problems with back cramps in the year and a half since he's been in a wheelchair. His doctor prescribes massage therapy. But when Charles meets his masseur, Erik, in some ways they begin to heal each other. So how do you cross the boundaries between professional touch -- and the personal?

Unbound – Cesare, helens78

Summary: Thousands of miles apart, Erik Lehnsherr and Charles Xavier form a soulbond. But when that bond is severed five years later, they have to spend the next ten years trying to rebuild their lives alone.

Do You Love Me – cgf_kat

Summary: Charles and Erik have been married for 25 years, thrown together by a mandatory post-apocalyptic pairing system attempting to increase and strengthen the population. They have seven children. They have never spoken of love, but change is on the horizon.

A Quiet Riot – cloudstroke (aQuired)

Summary: Erik can't stand the fact that his father has brought home a boy less than half his age.

But mostly because he's madly in love with Charles Xavier himself.

#cherik #cherik fic recs #fic recs #angst #asks #earnestly answers

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ikeromantic · 3 years

Text

Hero's Welcome

A Mitsuhide Akechi story, this scene occurs toward the end of Ch. 13 in the romantic route. Spoilers! Approx. 2500 words.

First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden

Previous: Delicious SFW/NSFW

As the walls of Azuchi drew closer, Mitsuhide felt a wave of relief. Of course, it was followed shortly by a new tension. He wasn’t sure if Nobunaga would grant him the right to marry his little one, or if he did, what the condition of that union might be. It was practical to make your first bride a political alliance - to give the place of privilege to a powerful family’s daughter. But Mitsuhide had no stomach for that.

He wanted just her.

The chatelaine didn’t seem to notice his reticence to return. In fact, she was practically bouncing on her toes in excitement. She kept walking faster, nearly running toward the city gate.

“There’s no reason to run, little mouse. Azuchi isn’t going anywhere.”

She stopped to turn and smile at him. “I’m just so glad to finally be home.”

Mitsuhide smiled and held out his hand. “Let’s go in together.”

Ranmaru and Hideyoshi were waiting for them.

Mitsuhide watched the cheerful page and wondered if Ranmaru knew that he knew . . . He would need to watch him even more carefully now. Kennyo knew his weakness and Ranmaru was perfectly positioned to take advantage of it.

Hideyoshi interrupted his train of thought with a restrained greeting. His eyes searched first the chatelaine and then Mitsuhide, looking for injuries. For signs of their struggle. “Welcome back,” he said.

“Happy to see us?” Mitsuhide’s thin smile turned his lips up at the corners.

“I am.”

The chatelaine hugged Ranmaru and then wrapped her arms around Hideyoshi. He awkwardly patted her head. “It’s good to see you.”

To Mitsuhide’s ear, his voice sounded strained, but the chatelaine didn’t seem to notice. She grinned up at him.

“I missed you! Both of you! Where is everyone else?”

Hideyoshi extracted himself from her embrace and nodded toward the castle. “Waiting for you both there. We weren’t sure you would make it back today.”

Ranmaru gave a sly smile. “Hideyoshi has been at the gates every day since we received word that the shogun has . . . decided to go into seclusion.”

“I haven’t,” Hideyoshi sputtered.

Mitsuhide shook his head. Hideyoshi was a terrible liar. “We best not keep the others waiting. Come, little one.”

The chatelaine took his hand again. Ranmaru and Hideyoshi led them back.

As they walked through the city, Mitsuhide took note of the mood there. People seemed largely unaware of the conflict, though he noted few merchants from outer provinces. Likely the result of the false conflict with Echigo. A small price to pay, considering the alternatives.

The shadow of Azuchi’s tenshu fell across Mitsuhide’s face as they drew up to the gates. Apropo, he thought, and squeezed his beloved’s hand. She would be his light in any shadow, even this one that came of his own choice.

Surprisingly, the other members of the Oda alliance were all there in the courtyard. Seeing them, his little mouse broke into a run. He could have let go of her hand, followed her in, but he never wanted to release her. Instead, he ran with her. He could tell this amused Nobunaga by the rise of his brows.

Ieyasu actually grinned. “Mitsuhide is actually running somewhere instead of slowly sauntering. I’ve seen everything now.”

Masamune waggled his eyebrows. Never one for subtlety, he said in a loud voice, “That was one hell of a sight!”

Mitsunari nodded, his angelic face lit by a sweet smile. “I understand them completely. I am so excited they are back.”

Ieyasu rolled his eyes and sighed.

Mitsuhide seconded that. “Have things been so empty in my absence that you all have an excess of free time to stand around in the courtyard?”

Hideyoshi frowned. “Free time? Do you have any idea how much time and energy we spent worrying about you both? You sent few enough messages and what you did send - “

“Ah, it’s been so long I almost forgot what one of your lectures felt like. Please. Do continue.”

The chatelaine giggled, Masamune snorted a laugh, and even Ieyasu cracked a small smile.

“Oh, I will,” Hideyoshi’s face flushed.

Before he could get up steam to really lay into Mitsuhide, Mitsunari came to the rescue. He laid a hand on Hideyoshi’s arm. “We really should get them both inside. They look tired and in need of refreshment. Should I prepare some tea?”

This was sufficient threat to unite the two men. “No,” both said in tandem.

Masamune took the chatelaine’s arm. “I’ve prepared some welcome home treats just for you.”

Mitsuhide might have intervened if Nobunaga had not taken that moment to speak. “Mitsuhide, and my chatelaine. You’ve returned.”

The two of them bowed, and brought Masamune with them as he hadn’t released the chatelaine just yet.

“We have, my lord.” Mitsuhide held his bow. Officially, he was disgraced and this was his crawl back to service. He had to play the part, much as it grated.

“You have done well, Mitsuhide.” Nobunaga’s voice was loud enough that the passing servants and guards would hear. A signal that the wayward kitsune was welcomed back with open arms.

Mitsuhide and his little mouse straightened. It was the welcome he’d hoped for, but hadn’t expected. Nobunaga could have left him in limbo - an uncertain status with conditional forgiveness. Of course, even with this pronouncement, Mitsuhide intended to stay at the fringes of the alliance. It was necessary.

Nobunaga then beckoned the chatelaine.

She let go of Mitsuhide’s arm. The absence of her made him feel unbalanced. He made as if to follow, but Hideyoshi and Masamune intercepted him.

“So?” Masamune’s one blue eye searched Mitsuhide’s face.

Hideyoshi’s jaw tightened. “She looks bruised. What happened?”

Mitsuhide gave them both his crescent moon smile. “The little mouse is a brave one. Now, if you don’t mind . . .”

“As it happens, I do. I have many questions about how this assignment wrapped up.” Hideyoshi’s expression was guarded. There was a wealth of brotherhood held tight behind walls of distrust and betrayal. He wasn’t ready to welcome the kitsune back with open arms.

“There’s no rush to report, Hideyoshi. I don’t plan on hiding or running from you.” Mitsuhide softened his smile. “Can we not celebrate our return first? Then I can provide an answer to all your questions. All together.”

Hideyoshi’s frown relented. “That would be a change.”

Masamune laughed as Mitsuhide nodded in agreement.

Though he would never admit it aloud, it felt good to be among friends. People who had shown time and again that they valued him. It hurt too. To know that his duty required their betrayal and may yet again.

Hideyoshi gestured to Ranmaru. “Make sure he doesn’t escape. I need to prepare a war council. Right now.”

Nobunaga and the chatelaine turned to look.

Ranmaru gave her a little bow. “I’m sorry my lady. I need to borrow Lord Mitsuhide for a bit. I promise to give him back.” His laugh was mischevious, high and false.

Nobunaga took the chatelaine’s hands. “We will speak again soon. I must attend to this.”

Mitsuhide waived to her, hoping to ease her sudden, worried look. “Why don’t you go rest now? I’ll be along soon.” He exchanged a look with Ieyasu, who thankfully understood what was needed.

She nodded, though she didn’t look happy about it.

“Mitsunari and I will walk you back to your rooms.” The young warlord took her arm gently.

Mitsunari was quick to follow. “Oh yes! Let’s walk together. You can tell me about your trip.” He smiled cheerily, as if oblivious to the tension.

Masamune looked between the chatelaine and Mitsuhide. “Think I’ll walk aways with the lass as well.”

“Good.” Nobunaga nodded. “You three can explain the current situation to her.”

When they disappeared into the castle grounds, Mitsuhide allowed Ranmaru to lead him to the council chamber. Nobunaga sat down at the head and Hideyoshi followed after.

“Ranmaru, bring us tea.”

The page bowed and left, casting a side-eyed glance at Mitsuhide once he did.

When only the three of them were left, Nobunaga spoke. “Your solution to the problem is novel, but carries with it some risk. There are still those that knew Yoshiaki personally.”

“Novel?” Hideyoshi sputtered. “All he did was delay the problem! When the emperor’s court learns what he’s done they’ll -”

“They won’t. The shogun will announce an interest in Buddhism and his need for solitude. This will keep most away. For the others . . . Kyubei and I will be there to guide him. I plan to keep an assistant at his side at all times.” Mitsuhide smiled. “And if it is discovered then, what says I had anything to do with it? Yoshiaki and I parted on amicable terms . . . if his scribe murders him in secret, it has nothing to do with me.”

Nobunaga thought about this in silence.

“You’re very sure of yourself.” Hideyoshi’s brows were drawn down, his face hard. “What happens if you’re wrong?”

“Then I will deal with whatever comes. Have I not done so, as long as you have known me?”

Hideyoshi gave a reluctant nod. “And the chatelaine? Why did you drag her into it? She was supposed to stay in Kyoto.” His voice rose on this question, stained with anger.

“I did leave her in Kyoto,” Mitsuhide sighed. “Yoshiaki went after her.”

Nobunaga’s face was impassive as he waited for additional explanation.

“His ninja kidnapped her and took her to the daimyo’s estate, bypassing our siege. He injured her,” Mitsuhide admitted. “But once in the estate, Kyubei was able to-”

“You couldn’t protect her from your enemies.” Hideyoshi’s voice was heavy with held emotion. “She was hurt because of you. She still has the bruises on her face, and who knows what other injuries! You - you-”

“Enough, Hideyoshi.” Nobunaga’s voice cracked like a whip. “The chatelaine was ordered to accompany him. She was hurt doing her duty. This fault does not lie on Akechi.”

Hideyoshi clamped his mouth shut, clearly not satisfied but unwilling to speak against Nobunaga.

“Yes, that is correct,” Mitsuhide inclined his head. “Even when our plans changed and she was captured, she performed admirably. Acting as both spy and distraction. I have a written report from Kyubei detailing their efforts, as well as some notes I took afterward.”

Nobunaga smiled. “So you come back to me having accomplished an impossible task. Yet I cannot publicly embrace you. Traitor twice over, and spy . . . what plan do you have now?”

Mitsuhide knew this was where things would get difficult. He faced it as he did most struggles. By smiling widely, his golden eyes like opaque windows giving nothing away. “I plan to be banished to my lands for a time, sent away with a bride to bind me to the Oda forces.”

Nobunaga’s eyebrows rose. Hideyoshi leapt to his feet.

“You can’t think-”

Ranmaru entered with the tea tray. “My lords?” He took in Mitsuhide’s smile and Hideyoshi’s posture. “I’ll just set this here.” He put the tray on the table, bowed, and left the room.

“Did you have a bride in mind,” Nobunaga asked after they were alone again. His gaze held a knowing light.

“I do.”

“You don’t get to betray us and then waltz back in, and, and, walk out with - she already - “ Hideyoshi didn’t seem to be able to finish his train of thought.

“Nobunaga Oda, my lord. I would humbly request permission to marry a princess in your keeping. You have already given your consent to our betrothal. I would take her into my family now.” Mitsuhide bowed low and held the position, waiting.

Hideyoshi, however, wasn’t going to let this moment pass. “No! My lord, you can’t really think that betrothal was serious! She’s half afraid of him! And - and just look at the state of her. She came back hurt. Because of him, his enemies - and it’s not the first time. He would drag her down with him. She deserves . . .”

“You?” Nobunaga’s voice was gentle, the question clear.

“My lord. I would keep her safe.” Hideyoshi bowed beside Mitsuhide.

“I am of a mind to let the fireball decide,” Nobunaga replied. “If I told her who she was going to marry, she’d likely refuse out of stubbornness.” He grinned. “She may not want either one of you.”

It was not the response Mitsuhide had hoped for. Not that he thought his little mouse would choose another - but he’d hoped Nobunaga would grant him this right clearly. Still, he rose and nodded. “As you will, my lord.”

Hideyoshi shot him a triumphant look. He clearly believed he’d be able to sway the girl. Which only proved he didn’t know her as well as he thought he did.

Masamune, Ieyasu, and Mitsunari filed in and sat down.

“Did we miss anything,” the one-eyed dragon asked. His smile said he knew more than he was letting on.

Nobunaga shrugged. “Mitsuhide asked for leave to marry the chatelaine. I’ve told him she will pick her husband.”

Mitsunari smiled brightly. “That’s very kind of you, my lord. I’m sure she’ll choose wisely.”

“I doubt it,” Ieyasu muttered.

Masamune laughed.

“Now, there are more important things to discuss.” Nobunaga’s lips thinned line. “Echigo is still a problem. And we know the Mouri have something planned. What is more, Kennyo still seeks me for revenge. We cannot rest yet. Mitsuhide, what is the rest of your report.”

It took hours to discuss what he’d learned of the Mouri and the remnants of the Ikko Ikki. Plus Masamune and Hideyoshi both had reports on Echigo and the false conflict they’d staged. By the time the discussion ended, it was well past dark.

Crickets chirped and the trees whispered in a cool, night breeze. Overhead, the stars shone like gems. Mitsuhide found himself appreciating all of it, even as he hurried out. He went to the chatelaine’s quarters to find her, but her rooms were empty. It barely looked like she’d been there.

He knew where she would be, if not there, and he smiled. His steps were light as he approached his estate. Kyubei met him at the entrance.

“My lord. She waits for you in your room.”

“Bold little mouse, isn’t she?”

Kyubei smiled and ran a hand over his short hair. “She is. Last I checked on her, she was reading as she waited, though she looks in need of rest.”

“That sounds like her.” Mitsuhide left Kyubei and continued to his room.

He slid the door open gently and stepped inside. The room was spotless, much as it had been when he was imprisoned. And there at his desk, sat his little mouse. A book was open in front of her, though her eyes were shut tight. Her head lay on the desk, cushioned by her arm. She looked so sweet, so innocent, that for a moment, Mitsuhide’s chest hurt.

His footsteps were almost silent as he crossed the room. His fingertips brushed gently down her hair and the sweep of her neck. “No matter how many times I see your sleeping face, I find it hard to look away.”

Mitsuhide shrugged out of his haori and laid it over her shoulders to keep her warm. Then he set up the bed. He kept expecting her to wake, but she didn’t stir. When the futon was ready, he carefully lifted her up. Cradled against his chest like this, he felt reluctant to set her down. Only knowing she’d be in his arms all night made the choice easier.

When he lay down, she turned her face to her chest and curled tight against him. Mitsuhide put his arm around her and closed his eyes. This was a true welcome home, he thought. Wherever she was, would be home to him.

Next: Loyalties

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen mitsuhide #mitsuhide akechi #ikesen nobunaga #ikesen hideyoshi #otome guys #otome #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff

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gladerwolfstarkimagines · 3 years

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Not just a soft princess - Azula x female reader imagine: Part Four

You are torn between your growing feelings for Azula and the fact you can’t forget all the harm she’s done in the past but if one place can help you think it’s the Ember Islands.

Part one here

Part two here

Part three here

Part five here

Part six here

Your POV

You arrived on the island early in the morning after travelling all night and you mind has been occupied by Azula the whole way. You’d liked a handful of girls before but none of them ever made you feel as excited and happy as Azula and that kiss....but you also couldn’t stop that surging guilt that followed every fond thought of Azula you had. She was the reason you were here and not in your city. You’d heard your people were fine but you couldn’t be sure. For all you knew Azula had laid waste to your city and spared the dai li and you just because you appealed to her. You didn’t believe that at all but every time she looked at you the thought flickered into the back of your mind and you were struggling to see anything else.

To make matters worse Azula was evidently still experiencing the bliss you had yesterday and was being coy and attentive to you. As the island came into view she appeared at your elbow smiling “it has only just occurred to me that all your clothes we brought are useless, here you cannot wear green as we are supposed to blend in”. “Ow...what will we do?”. Azula shrugged “I’ve sent a messenger hawk back to the palace asking them to send some clothes and I sent one ahead asking for some to be purchased for you until they arrive. All red of course” Azula smiled and looked at you waiting for a reaction. You knew she expected some playful banter like before but you just weren’t feeling it today. “Thanks” you nodded and you saw Azula hesitate, her smile fell away and you felt the familiar conflict rise. “I mean it, thank you” you smiled squeezing her hand before stepping away to go sit next to Ty lee. You saw the confused and almost hurt look on Azula’s face and had to look away...of all the times to be sent on a holiday together why did it have to be now?

As the day went on your resolve to stay away from Azula slipped further and further away. On the beach you watched amused as Azula complained about everything and noticed how adorable she looked when angry. Ty lee and Mai had abandoned the two of you so you were alone together and it was hard not to become swept up in your feelings. A guy had offered to help you lay out your towel and when you dismissed him abruptly Azula’s lazy smile made you feel weak. So you were already slipping and then Azula decided to show off her athletic side. You’d never played volleyball before so Azula said you could just watch. So you did just that and found yourself enjoying the show nicely. Azula was obliterating the competition and your jaw actually hung open as she kicked the ball so hard it caught fire before ripping through the net and sending the other team flying. You watched her, the net around her still smouldering and had to look away, you could’ve sworn she was doing it on purpose. You smiled admiring how happy she looked before that thought flickered in your mind again and you looked down with a heavy sigh.

Azula’s POV

Azula felt the thrill of her victory as she glowered over the other team informing them of their shame in case they didn’t already know. She was feeling good and confident. Something had been off with you all day but she’s noticed you watching her in the game so she knew your attraction to her was still there. However when she glanced back at you after the game was over she saw you weren’t even watching. You were tracing the sand a large worried frown on your face. Azula’s smile fell away as she watched you. What was upsetting you? Had her father done something? Zuko? You glanced up and as soon as you met Azula’s eye you looked away. So it was her Azula realised. She was the reason you were upset. Azula had no idea what she’d done and suddenly felt a surge of anger. How dare you be mad at her! After all she’d done to save your life, what could you possibly have against her? But as Azula’s heart continued to hammer she realised she wasn’t angry, not really, she was upset. She felt worried you didn’t like her anymore, embarrassed at the idea that like everyone else you’d realised she wasn’t good enough but overshadowing all of that was just a sinking sad feeling. She’d been ecstatic when you made the first move and actually went out of your way to show her you liked her. She’d felt excited and just joyously happy and then...then it all went away and Azula couldn’t figure out why. She didn’t know how she’d messed this up too but she knew it was her fault. It always was.

Your POV

After the show on the beach you got invited to a party. You didn’t want to go but Ty lee insisted you had to and so you obediently agreed. You and Azula had by chance got stuck sharing a room and the tension in the air as you got ready was painful. Azula had evidently caught onto your caution and she had been off with you and everyone ever since. You hated thinking about how just a few hours ago she’d been blissfully happy and now she just looked blank. Her face was a mask and you couldn’t tell if she was holding back anger or sadness. Either one was bad but you hoped it was anger, the thought you’d made her sad...that hurt.

You and Azula finished getting ready first and if sharing a room in tense silence wasn’t bad enough she caught you waiting by the door to leave. Azula came around the corner and you jumped as she spotted you. It would’ve been awkward for Azula to retreat and so instead she leant against the wall but kept her distance from you. “I guess we’re the first ones ready” you commented and Azula nodded “looks like it”. She tried to act unbothered and cold but you could tell it was an act, the fact she seemed unable to look you in the eye proved that. Unable to keep this up any longer you sighed “Azula I need to talk to you”. Azula immediately straightened and looked around to make sure nobody was around “no not here”. “But it’s important!” you tried but she shook her head “no y/n!”. You sighed and went to argue when the others appeared. “There you two are! You both said you didn’t want to go and you’re the first one’s ready! I bet you’re secretly excited aren’t you?” Ty lee asked and Azula rolled her eyes “I can assure you I am not” and she stormed past you out the front door.

As soon as you got to the party Azula headed as far away from you as she could and you watched her with a sad look. “Has something happen with you two?” Mai asked and you quickly shook away your expression and smiled “no of course not, Ty lee want to get a drink with me?”. “Okay!” Ty lee agreed and you rushed off with her hoping the peppy acrobat would take your mind off Azula.

Your plan failed. Ty lee was soon side-tracked by a swarm of men and you struggled not to show your contempt for them. They gradually worked you out from your spot next to Ty lee and you just accepted it, watching the party alone or more accurately watching Azula. The party wasn’t so big she could totally avoid you and so you’d gotten glimpses of her all night. Watching Azula pretend to be a normal teenager was oddly endearing. You watched her glare at anyone who passed her while also staring longingly at the happy teenagers. Her posture and expression got worse as time went on and you worked out she was having just as bad a time as you. You were contemplating going over to her when a man knocked into her. Azula had him twisted painfully against the wall, arm behind him in a tight lock, seconds later “you made me spill my drink you clumsy oaf!” she yelled. “Sorry” the boy babbled and she rolled her eyes in disgust before letting him go. The boy rushed away and Azula sighed “idiot”. Azula saw you smiling and her own eyes softened too. You thought she was going to smile too but she just ripped her eyes away from you and walked away.

She went to the drinks to grab some napkins to clean the mess that boy had made. You saw her sigh as only one napkin was left and she angrily attempted to use the single one to mop herself up. You saw some on a nearby table and grabbed them going over. “Here” you offered. Azula glanced at them before looking away “i’m fine”. You sighed “Azula just take them...”. “I said i’m fine” Azula snapped and you ran a hand through your hair. “I know you’re angry at me but please can we just talk? Can you give my 5 minutes to just explain?”. “Fine” Azula said suddenly making you jump “but not here” and she took off for the front door rapidly. You rushed after her and followed her as she made her way outside. She found a place far enough away from the house and then spun on you “talk”. Her tone was sharp and her body language intimidating but you weren’t scared or worried, just sad. "So you’ve probably noticed I’ve been off since we got here”. “That’s an understatement” Azula snapped “you practically flinch whenever i’m near you, you smile at me one moment and then can’t bare to even meet my eye the next” Azula spat “yes you’ve been off”. You sighed “I know I’ve been cold and I’m sorry I didn’t mean to....let me just start from the beginning”.

"So after i kissed you, i was ecstatic because i really like you" you started and Azula looked away her cheeks slightly pink "but then i started thinking...what my nation would think. Was I betraying them by liking you? You’re kind and nice to me but are you like that to everyone else? I started worrying I didn’t really know you and that I was being naive...I mean you took over my country and i was running around the palace with you" you sighed "and i know you only did that for your father but does that make it better?". Azula paused "well it was a war y/n casualties are a given". "Yes but we never started or engaged in the war, our crime was existing". "You don’t think Long Feng knew?” Azula asked. "He knew but he didn’t do anything to provoke an attack! All we did was take in refugees, we got attacked for no other reason, i’m technically your prisoner and i’m here admiring how you play volleyball" you sighed "it’s just a lot to process and so that’s why I’ve been so distant, I’m just trying to work out what I should be feeling and what I owe my people". Azula was quiet for some time before speaking "i don’t regret any of the thing i’ve done, to your home or you, i would do them again and i think if you were in my shoes you would too but i do regret that they hurt you” Azula said carefully "i’d hoped to have minimised that for you but i see i haven’t...I am sorry for that and that you’re upset. I like you too and even though i just said all that about what i’ve done to your home i do wish i didn’t have to do it...that it didn’t have to happen like that but the fact is it did happen. I don’t know what this means or where it leaves us but that’s my honest opinion". You looked at Azula unsure what to say. She was trying but was it enough when by her own admission she’d do it again? You sighed "i think i just need some space i like you but i’m not sure i should, so i need to think about that". Azula didn’t react she just nodded her head and left. Her reaction was a lot better than what you’d expected so why did you feel so guilty? You thought after you’d explained yourself to her you’d feel better but if anything it just made you feel more miserable.

You didn’t see Azula the rest of the party and figured she was avoiding you. When Mai grabbed you and told you see wanted to leave you were only too happy to oblige, but Ty lee suggested you go down to the beach and so you ended up doing that instead. When you spotted Azula and Zuko there both you and Mai tensed but you still walked to the campfire seeing no way to avoid this without being obvious. Maybe it wouldn’t be so awkward?

Of course it was.

The atmosphere was already tense due to Zuko and Mai’s break up and you and Azula just added to that. Mai and Zuko were glaring at each other while you and Azula stared anywhere but at each other. The atmosphere was so tense you weren’t surprised arguments soon broke out. Ty lee had been chattering awkwardly and Zuko got annoyed and snapped her. You listened to what he was saying to her and eventually your anger peaked. “Circus freak” Zuko spat at her and you glared. “Don’t call her that” you said annoyed. Ty lee looked so hurt by his words it made you furious “don’t lash out at her just because you’re feeling trapped”. “Trapped” Zuko asked “that’s rich coming from you...prisoner” Zuko glared and you raised your eyebrows surprised. You went to argue back when someone else intervened. “Don’t talk to her that way” Azula said suddenly and Zuko looked at her out of the corner of his eyes “why? because she’s your special play thing?”. “Because she’s a princess and deserves respect”. “Like you’ve ever shown anyone respect, you’re just saying that because you have a thing for her, don’t you?”. “Zuko...” Mai tried to warn him but Zuko shook his head “no we’ve all seen how she looks at y/n, for her to try and pretend she’s being nice to her for any other reason is ridiculous. Like Azula is anything but selfish and cruel! Why do you think our own mother feared you?”. “I don’t care about what your mother thought of me so that is irrelevant but so what if i like y/n?” Azula asked standing up and Zuko paused “what?”. “You said I have a thing for y/n and you’re right. I like y/n, i give her special treatment because she’s important to me so yes i’m selfish but can you say you don’t do the same? You put mom on a pedestal when she wasn’t a good mother, you strop behind father’s back but would never dare say anything to his face and you mope around Mai like a child with his favourite toy nobody else can touch, you’re not so noble big brother so I suggest you stop acting like it”. Azula and Zuko glowered at one another inches away from each other and you exchanged a look with Mai and Ty lee. “Zuko” Mai said and you stood up too “Azula...”. Zuko looked at Mai but Azula didn’t stop glaring at Zuko until Mai had pulled him out of her sight. Mai led Zuko away from the campfire but Azula didn’t move, she just stood there glaring at the ocean. You and Ty lee looked at one another and you could tell Ty lee was wondering what you wanted her to do. You nodded for her to follow Zuko and Mai and she did leaving you all alone.

Apart from Azula.

You turned back to her and watched as she stared out at the sea, almost refusing to turn back around. You knew she was aware you were there but still she stared off at the horizon clearly just ignoring your presence. You waited a while to see if she’d speak first or tell you to go away but when she didn’t you sighed and started to speak. “Azula I...” you started but she cut you off. "What do you want y/n?” she asked and you could hear the tired tone of her voice, the mask she’d been wearing all day was breaking. “I just wanted to thank you for what you said to Zuko...”. “I didn’t say all that to make you change your mind". "I know" you said "but still you stood up for me when you didn’t have to...thank you". Azula shrugged "he shouldn’t talk to you that way ever...nobody should". Azula turned around but she still wouldn’t look at you, she crossed her arms tightly and stared at the ground. "Azula i...i should've said something when he said those things to you, i should’ve stood up for you". Azula shrugged "i’m good at defending myself". "I know but you shouldn’t always have to!". Hearing what her relationship with her mother was like made you realise just how self reliant Azula was, her mother feared her and her father used her, did either of them just care or love her? Had anyone ever just cared for her? Azula glanced at you and she winced when she saw your expression "don’t look at me like that". "Like what?". "Like you feel bad for me just because of what Zuko said! I am fine y/n, i’ve always been fine don’t you dare pity me". "I don’t pity you". "Yes you do i can see it in your eyes". "I don’t" you said loudly "i just care about you a lot". "Yeah but you hate me more I got all that from your speech back at the party". "I don’t hate you i’m not sure i ever could" you said softly "I do hate and fear the fire nation and worry about my place there and my country and my citizens...but none of that overshadows how much i like you Azula" you stepped closer. "I like you a lot" you said simply and Azula rolled her eyes "we already did all of this you like me but you have your duty blah blah". "Forget all that" you said sharply and Azula looked at you "what?". "I’m sick of prioritising what other people think...putting what they’d expect of me before what I want! Can't i just be selfish? Can’t i have what i want?". Azula paused "and what you want is me?". You nodded your head "yes fire nation and all". You weren’t sure what it was that made you come to this realisation but as you said it, it felt right. “I know the situation i’m in...some people might think it’s weird or that it’s wrong of me to like you but I don’t care” you shrugged “you’re the only person in this whole nation who I smile when I see, who helped protect me and makes me happy, who I get excited just thinking about” you smiled “so i’d like to carry on what we started if you would?”. You stared at Azula and time seemed to endlessly drone on as you waited for her to do or say anything but after an eternity she smiled. “You should know i don’t give out many second chances" Azula smirked taking your hand. “Really? Well I guess i’m pretty lucky then”. Azula nodded her head “you definitely are but not just for me forgiving you”. “Why then?” you asked and Azula smiled “this” and crashed her lips against yours.

***

You laid in the sand staring up at the sky as the waves leapt at your feet. It was cold but Azula gave off heat so you were comfortable. Azula was laying against your chest and you held her gently. Neither of you had left this exact spot despite the time that had passed and you couldn’t imagine disentangling yourselves for anything. Everything about this was just perfect. Azula evidently thought so too. "When we go back to the fire nation we’ll find the time for more occasions like this" Azula told you. You looked down at her "we will?". "Of course" Azula replied looking up at you "i’ll just tell them it is extra sparring lessons...it won’t be far from the truth". You smiled "that’s true" and Azula grinned before glancing at your lips again. She leant in and you prepared yourself for how amazing it would feel when cold water splashed over you. You and Azula both jumped up in shock as a wave washed over you. "The damn tides!" Azula cried and you laughed "come on let’s go!". You took Azula’s hand and rushed for the path leading to the house. You both ran up to the house freezing cold and as soon as you were inside rushed to the fire. Azula fuelled it more and you both crouched before it laughing. Azula stopped laughing and just sat back and admired you. You blushed when you realised what she was doing and stood up "shall we go to our room?". Azula nodded taking your hand "i thought you’d never ask".

----

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sparrowonn · 2 years

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A Picture Worth a Thousand Words - Chapter 5 – Restless Nights

FANDOM: ARCANE (LEAGUE OF LEGENDS)

Characters : Vi, Caitlyn, Enforcer, Soren Warnings: Violence, Swearing, Angst, Drama, Conflict, SPOILERS TO ARCANE S1, thirst trap, Desires Word Count: 3045

THIS IS PART 3

Note: The Story takes place directly after Season Finale of Arcane. READ: [PART 1] [PART 2]

Follow me to see the updates. BONUS Scenes COMING THIS WEEKEND haha

Enjoy!

——

PART 3: A Picture Worth a Thousand Words

Chapter 5 – Restless Nights

INT – KIRAMMAN HOUSE – EARLY MORNING

A couple days had past and there were still no signs of Cassandra Kiramman (Caitlyn’s mothers) body under the wreckage of the council building. No one wanted to call it quits yet and the rescue team was still searching for survivors. Was it possible she could had survived and escaped? Nothing was known. It was early morning and Caitlyn couldn’t sleep, feeling miserable, she was in a state of uncertainty and at a loss of what she could do as her mother had her contract terminated as an Enforcer prior to her going to Stillwater Prison to run her own investigation into Jayce’s stolen Hextech Gemstone. Now - she was unable to get anywhere near the investigation into the destruction of the Council building and her colleagues would not risk their own jobs to divulge information as they knew she was too personally involved in the case.

As she laid on her bed she was already in a causal outfit ready to start her day…or do something….anything…to get her mind off the currently situation….she stared off at the map on the floor feeling frustrated…there was sadness in her eyes…her heart ached….Vi had left her….and her mother was missing. She was starting to get agitated…and her mind just kept bombarding her with thoughts. Did her colleagues not think she would be an asset…..she needed to find her mother- alive and now she could do nothing other then wait and waiting was a terrible game especially when it involved death. Becoming impatient she got off her bed and decided to go for a walk outdoors as sunrise had already occurred and maybe a walk would clear her mind. Exiting the Kiramman household gates she started to walk through the town, wandering aimlessly needing something to keep her mind occupied. The sunlight in the morning was beautiful reflecting off the building and houses of Piltover. It was quiet and not many people were up or outside yet. At least this was something soothing although she knew the reality of it all was just a façade as in other areas of the city Enforcers were rushing around still securing the city.

Caitlyn took a slow pace walk down a cobblestoned back road and couldn’t shake the fact that this was all Jinx’s fault…all this chaos in the city occurred because Vi’s sister shot the rocket at the Council building. I can’t let her get away with what she has done…..but Vi….she thought to herself shaking her head feeling conflicted with stirring emotions inside of her as she continued to walk down the pathway noticing someone in the distant fighting with an Enforcer. “Get the fuck off me” the girl yells while shoving the Enforcer away- drunkenly. “What the fuck”. The girl was in a red jacket with a black hood, white boxing wraps around her fists and had pink hair. She was stumbling around looking dishevelled and lost and then seconds later she fell face forward onto the stone pathway. The Enforcer laughed not even touching her. “Pathetic trencher”. Vi laid there for a moment enjoying the cold hard ground- it made her feel something….pain which was just what she was about to put the Enforcer through. As she stood back up, she threw a punch at his face missing while stumbling backwards and he laughed at her drunken ass until she booted him between the legs following up with a quick right hook to the head. “fuccck yeah!” The Enforcer could feel the hard impact of a bare fist hit him across the face while his body started to feel loose and darkness crossed his eyes before his body hit the ground.

Turning away Vi felt a weird sensation overcome her and started to stumble unevenly back around the pathway.

From the distance Caitlyn could tell exactly who this was- it was Vi and she didn’t look well. Bruised and cut up from various fights and something seemed different about her-….something was off and now she was stumbling around drunkenly in Piltover becoming more noticeable by other citizens who were just starting their day. Caitlyn began running down the stone pathway concerned that Vi was going to get herself arrested. “….Vi…but…why….” she whispered under her breath picking up her speed – she knew that because she was out of her Enforcers uniform if another Enforcer was to notice the incident there would be problems.

Vi found a nice little house to lean against keeping her eyes towards the ground while trying to focus as she was still a little off balance, she was hoping that her head would stop pounding from all the alcohol she had consumed prior to arriving in Piltover. Ekko tried to stop her from drinking so much but it was the only way she could ease the pain of all the guilt she was feeling and she wasn’t ready to face – “Vi….” The words were soft with an accent and sounded concerned, Vi’s chest tightened fuck she thought. It was Caitlyn….she managed to find her… lifting up her head slowly she was afraid to face Caitlyn but when their eyes met - both were at a loss of words of what to say as they started to feel overwhelmed by emotion and could tell each other was going through pain. They both wanted to reach out to each other but it hurt so much. They stood there in silence, eyes fixed on one another and each breath they took was synchronized…deep, slow and warm, as they found comfort in each other without the use of words and you could hear a pin drop between the two. Nothing else mattered in this moment it was if the world had stop spinning for a brief second. A slight smile crossed Vi face as she steadied her hand placement on the side of a house and could feel something more then just comfort “one second Cupcake I just –“ Vi vomits into a small flowerbed next the house as Caitlyn watches feeling a little flustered as the tension breaks between them. Vi looks up with a goofy smile as Caitlyn shakes her head putting her arm around her to help steady her. “Seriously Vi……we need to get you off the street before more Enforcers arrive…you can’t just fight random people.” Vi starts mumbling words that aren’t coherent while leaning her some of her weight on Caitlyn as they continue to walk down the street. While walking Caitlyn notices a restaurant with its door wide open and no one around she considered that this would be a good place to get Vi hydrated and maybe get a coffee in her. Entering through the doorway Caitlyn notices that the restaurant is actually a trendy Piltover pub and it has some cold colors with black and gold accents through out the venue, a pool table in the back, a couple of roundtables at the front for guests a dart board straight off the main bar. The bottom of the tables and the bar were made of gears and engine parts, the lighting seemed to be dimmed. On the bar was a plate of half eaten toast and a half a glass of something that looked alcoholic. No one was in the pub – it looked dead.

Upon entering Vi noticed the food on the counter top and did not hesitate…releasing herself from Caitlyn’s grasp and running over to it as she grabbed the plate and devouring the toast just as she then clutched the drink and tossed it back. In that brief moment Caitlyn attempted to grab Vi’s arm to stop her but is to late…. “Vi!” the drink was empty. She slammed the glass back on the bar and smiled whatever it was- tasted good and she wanted another “Ha! BAR KEEP WHERE ARE YOU!” she yelled demanding another drink.

Caitlyn sat down on a stool next to Vi rolling her eyes and just as she was about to speak up two blue eyes cut through the darkness of the shadows like a horror movie and a woman walked forward with long black hair, similar height to Vi, an athletic/slim build wearing a pair of pants, high length boots, v cut neckline shirt with left arm covered in a sleeve and the right sleeveless, golden accents were designed throughout her clothing and a couple of belts around her waist- one which she hung a towel off of. She walked with confidence and you could tell owned the bar and she didn’t seem like she would take shit from anyone. She had noticed right away that Vi had attacked her breakfast and her drink. “We are closed.” She replied sternly. Caitlyn felt bad about the breakfast situation “sorry about that...I’ll pay for that if need be. We saw the door open and thought you were open? My friend here is in need of water and perhaps a cup of coffee.” “FOOD” Vi yelled back at the bar keep as her stomach growled. “……I’m not a restaurant-and I’m waiting for a delivery which is why the door was left open.” The bar keep looked towards Vi. “Who the fuck do you think you are.” Vi was caught off guard by the bar keeps reaction but welcomed another challenge as she leaned over the bar. “You want to find out who I am!?” she yelled back ready to fight the woman as Caitlyn attempted to hold her back. Vi scowls “I was looking for The Rusty Nail but I can take a detour!”. Vi tightens her fist looking for a fight. The woman and Vi stand face to face not afraid of each other. The bar keep then points to the front door sign that reads “THE RUSTY NAIL – PILTOVER’S FINEST PUB”. Caitlyn is stunned as neither of them is backing down and tries to diffuse the situation. “This is The Rusty Nail? I’ve heard about it before... It’s pretty popular.” Vi and the bar keep continue to stare at one another looking like someone will be murdered over breakfast. “So- you’re Vi?” the bar keep grins both of them are 2 inches away from each others face. “Yup.” Cocky reply. The bar keep smiles “sit the fuck down and read the sign above my head.” Vi looks up – No fighting in the bar & Good Times only. Vi sits back on her stool as the bar keep turns away and puts a pot of coffee on. Caitlyn released her grip on Vi’s jacket and is slightly confused did Vi come to Piltover just to come to this bar and not to see her? why? She thought to herself before the words just slipped out of her mouth “Vi-you were looking for this bar?” The bar keep interrupts the conversation as she turns around “what are you having?” asking Caitlyn and pulling out waters on the table in front of them. Caitlyn is a little bit thrown off by how quick the woman is working “I’ll have a tea please…..” The bar keep laughs “You can have a coffee or a drink – no other choices” Caitlyn smiles trying to ease the mood “coffee please.” The bar keep nods grabbing a couple of cups under the bar and throws down a couple of coasters that were originally gear parts from a mechanical device. She starts to pour the coffee into the cups. “So, you’re Vander’s kid?” Vi’s eyes open wide extremely confused. How did this woman know….. the bar keep continued “I knew him well. I’m sorry for your loss.” Caitlyn noticed Vi’s body language starting to change a little. Who was this Vander? And why is Vi acting uneasy now… Caitlyn wondered. Vi stared at her coffee – black just how she wanted it. “what- do you mean you knew him well…..” her eye twitched as she replied.

The bar keep places a little jug of milk in front of Caitlyn knowing that she’ll probably request it anyways. “All the taverns know each other. We share some of the same suppliers but some of us knew each other better then others.” She smirked as Vi started to choke on her coffee. What did that even mean. Did this woman know Vander intimately?! Or was she just fucking with her? Vi couldn’t figure it out. Caitlyn quietly sipped her coffee trying to figure out if this Vander was a relative of Vi’s - she was quite amused viewing Vi blush of embarrassment while also watching Vi’s soul starting to crawl deeper into her to hide. The barkeep continued “So - I heard you ripped off my sisters arm in Zaun.” Quickly Vi snapped back into her body/reality spitting out her coffee. “PFFFT- SE-SEVIKA IS YOUR SISTER?! YOU ARE FROM ZAUN!” Vi shouts back at the bar keep. Caitlyn coming to the realization that this explains a lot about how these two confronted each other earlier. “Half sister. We have different fathers. It’s a shame you didn’t kill her but probably for the best as she is fighting hard for Zaun and is trying to make money to keep her father alive.” Vi grins repositioning herself back on the bar stool still angry from Sevika’s betrayal and she had never considered Sevika to have family. She was a cold-hearted betraying bitch.

Changing the conversation, The bar keep pulls out a medium sized box covered in a cloth with a bit of blood on it. Placing it in front of Vi “Your package arrived this morning. Do you know how hard it is to get something like this off the black market?” As Vi reached for the package a knife is stabbed between her fingers stopping her hand from moving closer “Not so fast. Payment is due.”

Caitlyn puts her cup down on the coaster concerned “what is happening here? Are you running an illegal operation?” Caitlyn looks stern towards the criminal behind the bar “I can have you arrested.” The barkeep smiles “You could-try but how do you think someone from Zaun ended up here. Enforcers come to this bar just as much as any other individual looking for information.” Caitlyn looks to Vi “You shouldn’t deal with these people Vi-whatever is in that package isn’t worth it.” Vi grins moving her hand away from the knife considering Caitlyn’s words but something else grabs her attention on the word information. “What do you know about Jinx?”. Caitlyn is now also curious and demands answers as well “What do you also know about the rocket that hit the council building?!” The barkeep keeps her cool while pulling the her knife out of the table and folds it back up. “Nothing. I’m staying out of that mess. Now regarding my payment.” She pulls out another box in a dark blue cloth. “This needs to be delivered to the west end of town where the factory district is. The building is 9384 Block-D.” Caitlyn recognizes the address right away “Block-D!? That district is where my families factories are……..they can’t be involved in illegal activities….” Vi puts a hand on Caitlyn’s back, her stomach is starting to feel a little better “It’s ok. We can look into it.” Vi looks to the barkeep “What’s in the package?”. The barkeep moves the empty cups away from Vi and Caitlyn and starts to clean up. “It doesn’t matter. Don’t open it. Just deliver it and if you know the factory area well – then you’re already ahead of the game. There is a window on the second level that will be open tonight. When you get inside, you’ll follow a light down a hallway and meet the client. Now get out of my bar so I can clean off the mess that a bunch of kids left behind on a table.” The bar keep pushes Vi and Caitlyn out of the bar. “When you finish the job the package you requested will be in the front mailbox, the key will be under the 3rd potted plant in the back.”

Vi and Caitlyn hear the door shut behind them and a locking system grind in place.

“Vi….who was that?” Caitlyn asks out of concern realizing that there is more to Piltover and its political corruption then what she knew 30 minutes earlier. Vi grinned holding the blue package up to the sky wondering what was inside it as she started to walk with Caitlyn.

“Soren, I suppose. I once overheard a conversation late at night when Vander and Benzo were chatting about a woman named Soren. During the uprising on the bridge……when my parents died, Soren was taken by the Enforcers and thrown in Stillwater.” Vi grinned “her name was carved into the stone wall there next to the word reaper. She was wanted for various murders.” It was pretty standard in the Undercity to come across murders, criminals and drug dealers so it was nothing new to Vi but Caitlyn was still processing the words Vi just told her “But how is it possible she is here. In Piltover now.” Caitlyn asks while stopping in her tracks. Turning to face Caitlyn, Vi replies bluntly stating a fact “well seems like Piltover isn’t so clean after all.” Caitlyn was shocked how was this even possible… was the system broken or did this Soren have connections that no one else had access to. “I would stay away from her Cupcake. There is a reason why she is there.” Vi turned around shaking the package trying to figure out what was in it. “Vi- is it worth it? To do this…..” Caitlyn asked as they continued to walk together. “Cupcake this is my job. I can handle it on my own.” Vi responded. Caitlyn was having concerns about Vi going off into the factory district doing this job…she needed to know what kind of illegal activities were going on in her family’s factories late at night. “No, Vi I’m coming with you. I need to investigate this.” Vi smiles “that’s the spirit- our first job together. Just make sure you don’t get arrested by an Enforcer.” She winked at Caitlyn while teasing her. Caitlyn rolled her eyes unimpressed by the joke “come on now…and stop calling me Cupcake….also who is this Vander?”

- END

BONUS PIC: The back table Soren had to clean off.......

------------------ Post notes:

Soren pronounced (Sorr-en)

There are TWO BONUS SCENES releasing this weekend. One with Vi/Caitlyn and the other is Sevika and Soren. You can either follow me or follow the Arcane Sevika or Arcane FanFic tag to read it. You’ll learn a lot about the character I created. I needed a character to push the story forward for Vi and Caitlyn – the payoff…..is golden at the end of the story but building it takes time…..and as a fan of Sevika – I wanted her back story fleshed out. Also, Vander was totally getting action back in the day. I thought it would be hilarious if it was Sevika’s younger sister. I wanted Vi to have someone other then Caitlyn in Piltover but also have an awkward relationship with them. Although I have a feeling Vi would be just running a massive bar tab…

It took me a LONG TIME to figure out a Pub Name that would reflect Zaun but could be trendy in Piltover - The Rusty Nail. It took me longer to find a name that sounded cool for Sevika’s sister that wasn’t a name used in LoL (they use so many names)….like SERIOUSLY.

Also, if you watch TV shows- you want to establish a place characters can keep going back to. I wasn’t going to write a coffee shop, restaurant, new building/etc. I wanted a place where some Enforcers, Criminals, Regular People go – a trendy pub that behind the scenes doubled as an illegally operation network for information. Where would Vi, Caitlyn and sometimes Jinx go? LOL.

And yes - the table that was graffitied on was by Jinx & Friends. Which means she made an appearance at the bar. This table was not noticed by Caitlyn or Vi as it was in a back corner of the bar. Lastly yes....I thought it would be fun to add to Piltover's Finest...Pub LOL i don't need to explain! If you made it this far fantastic ~ if not oh well! LOL

pic credits: Arcane Netflix: Riot Games Bar: 6sense.ro

#arcane vi #arcane caitlyn #vi x caitlyn #arcane fanfic #piltover's finest #arcane sevika #arcane #arcane spoilers #sparrowonn fanfic #family #arcane vander #arcane jinx #therustynailpub

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thatonesadending · 3 years

Text

Caleb gets to show Molly his Tower, but Essek doesn't approve (Chapter 3)

Caleb knew he was being childish, overly excited. But he had put a lot of work into his tower, spent a lot of time thinking about his friends and their own stories, and how they impacted him. He was eager to share it with Molly. The man was that was ostentation to a fault, and so Caleb thought he might appreciate how much thought and whimsy he had put into their little band of hero’s home away from home.

He lead Molly through the entrance of the Tower, he hadn't explained anything, and the tieflings reaction didn't disappoint.

“What the fucking hell. I am still dead aren't I?” He had almost ghosted past Caleb to the middle of the Entryway. Looking up, he gasped and put his hands on his hips. “Caleb Widogast, you tricked me. You made me think I was going back to the material plane, but this, - this is Heaven, isn't it.”

Caleb couldn't help but chuckle at the mocking tone. He was surprised when Molly looked back away from the ceiling, and stode back to Caleb to clasp his shoulders. “I knew you were a sneaky little bastard, smarter then you let on. Good Boy.” Caleb should have felt embarrassed at the teasing praise, but he wasn’t, at least not yet. Mollymauk continued to wander around the Entryway. He spent a good long while asking questions and Caleb gladly answering.

“How do you get up there?” Molly pointed up thru the center of the tower, after taking in all the windows and art surrounding him.

“Come, I will show you.” Caleb offered his hand to the other man, normally he would not be so bold, but he was riding a high from having all of his worries and suspicions so easily dowsed. He could overthink things later, currently, he just wanted to think about the now, something that Molly valued.

Molly took it easy, and Caleb told him all he had to do was think “up”. Of course, in an effort not to be outdone, he said what Caleb could guess was the infernal translation and pulled the wizard with him.

They made it to the center of the salon floor before Mollymauk stopped and stared. Truth be told, isn't not that Caleb had forgotten, but he had never thought Molly would see the salon, never prepared an explanation for the large stained glass window. He had made it of course as a tribute that the other Nien would appreciate as much as he. It hadn't occurred to Caleb until that moment that he had surrounded his books, his knowledge around the lighted artwork that represented Mollymauk Tealeaf.

“Caleb, I -” he wasn't sure he had ever experienced Molly speechless before. Embarrassment was spreading up his neck, and Caleb wanted to find a way to explain, minimize - lie - about the significance of the fact that the third floor of the Mighty Niens home has a vast library containing all the books and knowledge Caleb ever held dear, and a larger than life depiction of Molly’s tattoos, that case color and light on all of Caleb’s texts. He wanted to say that he had just made it as a comfort for his still grieving friends, but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t lie.

Surprisingly Cad started answering some of Molly’s questions when he eventually stopped staring. It wasn't until Caleb scanned the room and remembered that Essek was also with them, that he realized Caduceus was being more polite than him.

Caleb tentatively walked over to the other wizard, unsure of what to say. There had been a lot of floating and conflicting feelings around the two of them as of late, but Caleb had just started to feel like they had been unraveling them, getting to a place where they could be more than friends with a tentative trust. But then Caleb had asked Essek on this trip, and then literally kissed the enemy. He had no idea what the man must be thinking.

“Thank you for guarding me, you know - while I cast th-”, but he was caught off by Essek.”

“This is foolish.” Caleb hadn't been expecting the reprimand. Essek didn't let him respond.

“You have now twice let a man that may or not contain a friend that you knew for only a couple of weeks into your home. Shared your secrets. For what Caleb? I understand that your friends and you -”

Caleb cut him off abruptly, but did not slow Essek down. “Our friends.”

“Yes, our friends - have an affinity for this ‘Mollymauk’, but it is my understanding that you only knew the man for 4-5 weeks. How do you know this isn’t Lucien? Playing off your limited memories of a man who barely knew you. Whereas I -”

The door two floors below them slammed open, and Caleb found himself prepping to use his arcane fire, but all he saw was the rest of the Nien trudging in, and closing the door behind the,

“Cad, do you think you could come heal Beau? She is ok, we got Cree, but Jester is a bit tapped.” Fjord’s deep voice rung through the tower. Cad excused himself from Molly, and drifted down to Beau. the rest of them followed soon after, back to the Entryway. Caddie quickly took care of all of them, but took care not to include Cree, who was flung over Yasha’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes and unconscious.

“Molly what do you think?! Isnt great?!” Jester asked to her fellow tiefling.

“Love, I am fairly sure that I am stuck in a coma or a demiplane somewhere, but this all couldn't possibly be real.” He said with a grateful smile on his face. Caleb barely heard Essek mutter, uncharastically, ‘I am sure you would fuck with demiplanes.’ Before Caleb could confront that, Molly was calling to him.

“Caleb, this is truly fantastic, and I really would love to see it all, but I wasn't lying when I said I was tired. I don't know what that other guy did with this body, but it doesn't feel like sleep.”

“Oh Molly! You can stay with me! I am sure you don't want to be alone, and Essek has the guest room, and my room is like - really really awesome. We can totally snuggle and I can-” Fjord was growling again, it wasn't loud, but just displeased enough that Jester heard. Caleb wasn't sure what to make about this recent possessive streak, but he knew his own jealousy isn't helpful since Fjord had obviously scared Molly.

“Or maybe Yasha would be better, she really really missed you.” Jester supplied, with a bashful smile.

“That would be divine dear, if that’s ok with Yash, don't want to intrude, love.” Molly said, but he seemed to be struggling with something. It Caleb only a moment to realize that the man was overwhelmed with their change in dynamic, unsure of how he fit in, and might need some space.

“Actually, that might not be necessary.” Caleb hadn't planned on telling them all, but he also hadn't planned on being able to bring back Molly as such. He kicked himself mentally for not arranging things in the tower before he cast it, but hopefully the others left him alone about it. He wasn’t going to hold his pride up before making sure Molly knew that he belonged here with his family.. “Both Mollymauk and Essek have their own rooms if they choose to stay in them.”

Caleb noticed Essek’s normally imperceptible demeanor change, soften just a bit, he was thankful for it after their brief but tense exchange.

“Ah, Essek, I had wanted to show you your first night here, but unfortunately circumstances as they were prevented that. I would show you tonight, but I would like to take Mollymauk to his, seeing as this is all a bit new to him.” Caleb waved his hands to indicate the tower, but what he didn't say was why it could only be him that could show Molly.

“That is alright. I would be glad to wait, I didn't get to explore your library as much as I would have liked anyway.” Essek’s offer of patience was welcomed. It meant that he wasn’t too angry with Caleb. “Thank you, Essek.” Caleb knew the others didn't understand Caleb’s gratitude, but he didn't care at this moment.

“Caleb, when did you find the time to make Molly a room? And I count the same amount of doors, where is?” Of course, Beau would be the one to pick up and challenge Caleb on this first. He couldn't think of a convincing lie, so he tried to go for nonchalant.

“On the floor above Veth’s and my own.” He tried to say it casually, but not a single pair of eyes around him didn't stare.

“Caleb, when did you put a room for Molly on the eighth floor?” The question came telepathically, though Caleb could hear Beau’s pointed tone perfectly. His eyes immediately jumped to his hands, the other red eye still there. Before panic could flood him about what that meant, Beau was in his mind again.

“We can worry about it tomorrow, Molly doesn't have any eyes on him other than his tattoos, we probably just have to kill this city. Now, tell me, when?”

So he wasn’t going to be able to avoid this.

“It’s always been there.” A simple answer to a very complicated issue.

“Fuck man, why didn't you - I, I didn't know.” Caleb didn’t like hearing her pity. Part of him was grateful that she understood why he had included it in his floor of memories, however, he didn't want to talk about it just now. Everyone was still staring at him, they knew Beau was in his head, and likely knew what she was asking, but mercifully not saying anything.

“Ja, well, Yasha can put Cree in one of the rooms of requirement, no? For us to deal with tomorrow?” He supplied quickly to change the focus of the room. “And I can take Mollymauk, to at least change into different clothes for now, and he can choose where he stays.”

“That sounds like a fine plan, I can help Yasha. Then we all can get settled for some needed rest.” Fjord supplied, taking control of the situation from Caleb, which he was very grateful for.

“Lovely. Caleb, dear, take me wherever you want, to be honest, I would be happy to sleep on the floor right here, but I’d love a change of clothes just as much.” Molly didn’t look tired, as much as a man who really wanted to catch his breath. Caleb knew this feeling well, and only hoped he could maybe provide a calm space for Molly to get a little more acclimated in. Without really thinking about it, he put out his hand to the purple man, and of course, he took it in return.

“You only need to think the word ‘up’.” He reminded.

“But where is the fun in that? Up.” Molly tugged Caleb up through the floors of the towers, and he couldn't help but laugh at the other man’s enthusiasm as he fell upwards.

#critical role #cr2 #widomauk #shadowgast #caleb widogast #mollymauk tealeaf #essek thelyss #lucien

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skylarmoon71 · 3 years

Text

Leonardo x Reader Oneshot TMNT 2014/2016

Disclaimer: I own my love for fanfiction, nothing more. Enjoy!!

"I don't trust you." To say those words didn't hurt would be a blatant lie. Standing in the lair with all four turtles around, you blinked, determined not to show any type of weakness. Leo's eyes were resolute after the statement, and the three other turtles grew quiet.

It started with Mikey's casual teasing. You were so used to it, so when he joked about Leo having a crush on you because he constantly gave you the cold shoulder, you laughed it off. Mikey's wasn't being serious. But apparently it struck a nerve with Leo.

"Leonardo." Splinter heard it all. You could see the way Leo's jaw was clenched, and all you wanted to do was punch him in his stupid leader face.

"Raph is right, you really are nothing but a jerk!" you pushed up your glasses, turning on your heels as you stormed off. You knew the moment you got back to your room you'd fall apart. But you could save a little face. You just needed to ensure you didn't fall apart in front of him. You wouldn't give him that power.

Leo's mistrust wasn't completely unwarranted. Your meeting with the turtles was fairly unique. It wasn't in an act of heroism. You had in fact tracked them down. Like Donatello, you were very good with computers. A master hacker. Because of your little hobby, it provided a lot of room for snooping. In middle school you hacked NASA, and they were none the wiser. By the beginning of high school, you were hooked up to every police scan and federal cases. Everything and anything that you wanted to know was right at your fingertips.

Being an orphan probably didn't help with your moral compass. As long as you knew it was always about seeking our own self interest. You were now a junior in high school. Being a New Yorker was pretty much the usual. Grumpy people, busy bodies. What wasn't ordinary was alien invasions. It alarmed you when there were metal boxes floating in the streets, panic throughout the city. What pissed you off was the fact that it was never addressed as to what really happened that day. The government provided some half assed excuse, and everyone just accepted it. Determined to get to the bottom of your newest interest, you'd stumbled upon something quite interesting.

A fellow hacker, almost as gifted as you. Not nearly as careful though. At the time you had no idea it was Donnie. You just followed the informational patterns that strangely aligned with all the unexplained incidents that occured in New York. Intrigued, you kept pushing, and even decided to confront the individuals that you were led to. Safe to say four giant mutant turtles were not what you were expecting. After nearly having a heart attack, you finally solved the mystery of the vigilantes.

A very unexpected development emerged from your discovery. You befriended them. Donatello was impressed at your technical skills, and you were even more with him. You were born with the genes basically, probably from your parents, but they were created. He adapted his intelligence all on his own, and to you that was astounding.

Months passed, and you found that being with the turtles and even assisting when you could, you felt like you were a part of something great. Something amazing. You were helping people with your gift, rather than using it for your own means of living. All in all, they seemed to like you. Even Raph who probably was the least trusting of strangers warmed up to you. The only one who held a general dislike for you was apparently Leo.

Since your meeting was a bit forced, he was weary of you. As time went by you thought that would fade. It wasn't like you would reveal their secret to anyone; they were your friends. At least that's how you saw them. Leo obviously didn't feel the same. Not that you cared. If he wanted to act like a douche then you would let him. If he thought those words would make you run he was wrong. You will be back first thing tomorrow. After you were done crying a little to day that was.

~The Next Day~

"Don't worry too much about Leo. Ya gotta give him time. " Raph nudged you on your seat on the couch as you were beating him in mario kart.

"I'm not worried. It's his fault if he wants to keep that giant stick up his ass." Raph laughed out loud and you joined, adjusting your glasses quickly so you didn't lose your spot on the course. Someone clearing their throat behind you made you drop the control. You didn't have to turn to know who it was. Raph was already standing, flipping over the couch.

He was probably there because it was about that time for them to go on patrol. Raph ruffled your hair with a grin. "See ya later kid, I'll be back to beat ya."

"Hah, maybe in your dreams!" Donatello rushed past, handing you a computer. "Thanks for the codes, the servers are moving a lot faster (Y/N)." you nod. "Sure thing Donnie, anything for a brother hacker." you showed him a peace sign smiling. Mikey was the last to join, swinging his nunchucks. "Who's ready to kick some criminal butt!" he said excitedly. Raph and Donnie just turned, not really acknowledging the younger turtle's antics. "Really? No one." he followed behind still trying to get a word from his brothers. Leo lingered there, and it took you a moment to realize he was staring at you.

You frowned. "Don't worry, I'm not going to burn down your home or anything, so you don't have to keep watch. " you stood, pushing your glasses up your nose, heading in the opposite direction. Leo knew he deserved the hostility. After the conversation with Splinter, he felt like he really understood nothing about his feelings.

~Flashback~

"Did they forget that she basically blackmailed us just to see who we were. Why am I the bad guy." He was more than a little frustrated. Even Raph was lecturing him on his statement that day. Raph of all people.

"Leonardo, she's young, just like you. I believe there is another reason you're conflicted about her."

"What do you mean?" He couldn't understand what Splinter was trying to say.

"Maybe you have learned to see her in another light. And it's difficult for you to understand. So your mind is telling you it's mistrust, but is that what you really feel?" His forehead creased in thought.

"What I really feel." He couldn't come up with a good answer. His encounters with you were never lengthy. He barely acknowledged you on most occasions. But when he did, he found that he was watching, or more like studying what you did. Your intelligence, humor, and those glasses that never seemed to stay perched up on your face. Leo's eyes grew wide.

"Sensei I..."

"You have feelings for her." Leo wanted to swallow his tongue. That couldn't be.

"There is nothing wrong with what you feel, however you need to be more careful with your words. (Y/N), despite her resilience is still very much a child. " Leo was still in a sense of shock. Splinter walked over, patting him on the shoulder. "I know you will find a way to make amends with her. Just be honest." he said nothing else, walking off with his hands folded behind his back.

"How am I supposed to do that." If you disliked him before, you definitely hated him now.

~Flashback end~

Leo released a heavy sigh. It would take a lot to take back those words. Right now, all he wanted was to let you know that he was wrong. It didn't matter if you detested him. He just needed to restore the trust he should have placed in you the moment he realized you cared for his family the same way he did.

~~~

"Mikey check out my costume!!" you were sporting a pikachu onesie. It was halloween after all, and you were more than excited to show off the cute yellow design.

"Pika pika~" you mimicked the sound your favorite Pokémon with a smile.

"You're so cute!" he gushed in a baby voice. You giggled, adjusting your glasses. The parade was about to start and you didn't want to miss it. Since this was one of the few days the turtles could roam around without suspicion, you were overjoyed. It was the first outing you had with them all together outside. You bounced on your feet when Donatello and Raph came from around the corner talking about training most likely. "Come on guys we need to get going!" you urged. Raph placed his hand on your pointed hoodie. "Alright hold ya horses. Leo's coming too." You puffed your cheeks at that.

"Great, the world's greatest killjoy is joining us." You really didn't want Leo's strict attitude on your night of fun.

"Speak of the devil." He was walking with his eyes in a book. When he saw everyone gathered his eyes raised. When they landed on you, he stopped completely. You knew it was stupid, but you blushed, because of the awe in his eyes as he looked at you. Your gaze moved down as you grabbed at the tail of your costume, fiddling with it. "Dummy, why is he looking at me like that!" Leo was the last person you wanted to make your heart beat that way. You weren't even wearing tight clothing either, so why the hell was he staring like you were the prettiest thing he'd ever seen. Leo willed himself to look away, placing his book down.

"She looks so cute." Of course he didn't say it out loud. Regaining his cool, he folded his arms.

"You guys ready."

"Yeah dude we were waiting for you." Mikey reached over picking you up, you were laughing the entire time.

"Onward soldiers!!" he shouted. Raph just tapped him on the head. "Dude!" Donnie rolled his eyes.

"If you guys start fighting Sensei won't let us go." he informed. Mikey made a zipping motion on his lips. Leo watched his brothers marching away with you. And a tinge of jealousy rushed through his body seeing how comfortable you seemed with Mikey.

~~~

Walking through the streets you took in all the creative costumes. Bands were marching, people cheering, bodies jumping and prancing to the music that blared through the speakers. Mikey was a little ways ahead, easily making friends in the crowd of people. He looked so happy. Raph and Donnie's eyes were also trained on Mikey. The content expressed on their faces was really indescribable. They usually gave him a hard time, and you knew it was just how brothers acted with each other. He was the youngest, and you were positive if anyone tried to hurt him, they would protect him in a heartbeat.

"Hey there, are you all alone cutie." you were so distracted that you didn't realize you got partially separated from the others. The male blocking your way annoyed you. Raph and the others were a short way up the street. If you could just get past this guy you could join them.

"Sorry but I'm with my friends. I've got to go." He moved closer to grab your hand, and you were about to recoil when a hand came down and pulled you backwards. You stumble into something firm, and when you look up, blue eyes are glaring at the man before you. "She's taken." the guy raised both his hands with a laugh. "Alright hulk no need to get mad. You should keep a better watch on your girl." He backed up, leaving, falling back into the crowd. When he was gone, those electric eyes moved in your direction. He was still holding unto you.

"T-Thank you Leo." you weren't much of a fighter, and you would hate it if the turtles first outing got ruined because you couldn't stay close. "Be more careful, guys like that are nothing but trouble. I'd hate it if you got hurt."

That was the nicest thing he'd ever really said to you.

Wait a minute.

"What did you mean I'm taken? " you raised a brow. Leo let you go, taking a step back.

"I was just..I didn't want him getting any ideas." He wouldn't look at you. "Sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

"N-No it's okay. I kinda figured as much." Why the hell were you disappointed at his answer. You should know better.

"By the way, you're costume it's..really nice." you flush, fixing your glasses.

"O-Oh! T-Thanks." You must have been dreaming. Another nice statement from Leo. What was the world coming to? The both of you stood there awkwardly for a while, neither sure what to do.

This was the longest conversation you had with Leo that didn't end up with animosity on either side. Your eyes caught his hand that was hanging, and you took it softly in your own. Leo looked up stunned. "S-So we don't get separated again." you clarified. Raph and the others were already a ways ahead. It would have been bad if you got into another little scuffle. So you started moving to them, keeping a soft grip on Leo's hand so he didn't fall behind. You kept your eyes forward, because you knew if you looked at him again, he'd figure out just how happy you were to hold his hand.

If only he knew how you felt.

~~~~

"Ugh! I hate these so much." you sighed heavily, massaging your eyelids. "What's the matter?" you almost jumped, startled by the concern in Leo's voice. Everyone else seemed taken in their own task. Mikey didn't even turn from his game at your small yell. "I-It's really nothing, just a code. It's been stressing me out for the last hour. "

Leo took a seat next to you on the chair, turning you in his direction. You just watched him, waiting for whatever he was about to do. He smiled, reaching out and removing your glasses. You closed your eyes not really expecting the gesture. "You have to stop for a while and..." when his words started to trail off you were confused. "W-What's wrong?" He looked so dazed, it sort of alarmed you.

"It's nothing, it's just your eyes...they're beautiful." he muttered.

"Oh boy."

Since the Halloween party, Leo was being especially nice to you. Now that you thought about it, he'd been doing it way before that.

"You're beautiful.." He was very careful not to voice that, still, he could think it. Because it was true. To him you were breathtaking, his only regret was that he'd didn't figure out his feelings before. Maybe now it wouldn't have been so hard for him to be honest about how he felt.

Your eyes were staring in shock, your mouth slightly agape.

"Did you just...call me beautiful." Leo paused.

"W-What?"

"You said...you said that I'm beautiful." surely you didn't imagine those words coming from his mouth. What was really going on here. Of course you were overjoyed. But didn't he still not trust you? Why was he saying these things, looking at you the way he did. Leo stood in ample time, and before you could get another word in he was leaving hurriedly.

"I-I have to go." He didn't offer an explanation, just bolted like his life depended on it. You sat there, flustered and maybe even a little irritated.

"Why the heck is he pulling me in so many directions."

One day he's telling you to your face that he doesn't trust you, then the next he's looking out for you, complimenting you. It was driving you crazy.

"I hate boys." you groaned.

~~~~

The soft knock on his door had his eyes lifting. He stopped momentarily attending to his bonsai tree. When the door opened, his heart staggered for a fleeting second. You walked in, shutting it. Your hands were behind your back, and you could barely hold eye contact with him. Leo wasn't much better. He placed down the small clippers, shifting on his feet. "Is there something wrong?" he asked, concerned about the surprise visit.

"Y-Yes actually." you needed to get a handle on whatever this crazy thing was between the both of you.

"Why have you been acting so weird with me. I know the both of us we've never really been on the best terms. And I guess I don't help that much. But you're the same. You say things to me to piss me off and I get so agitated! " You were shouting, and Leo's head lowered.

"Then you act so sweet and kind out of nowhere and it completely messes me up because I can't read you at all. Do you hate me or not!"

"I could never hate you (Y/N)." That simple statement the way he said it, the look on his face. It struck you right in the heart.

"Why do you do that.." you lips quivered, and you took a step forward, Leo didn't expect to see the tears that were gathering in your eyes.

"Stop giving me hope and then tearing it from me. Y-You have no idea how I feel about you.." Damn it, your intention was never to break down in front of him. Leo clenched his fists, and you raised your hands to wipe away your tears. When you heard him walking towards you, everything in your body stilled. Leo's hand rested on your cheek, and you opened your mouth to say more, but Leo stole whatever words you had prepared. Standing there wide eyed, you could barely believe the feeling of his lips pressed softly to your own. Because of the height difference. He had to lean down slightly. When he pulled back, his eyes flickered open. The glow of his eyes were somewhat surreal.

"I should have never said that to you (Y/N). That day..I was stupid. Long before I had feelings for you. I guess I was just too scared to admit how I felt, so I kept my distance, and created excuses to keep it that way. I'm so sorry that I made you feel like you weren't welcomed. You're just as much a part of this family as April and Vern. "

"Leo.." so the entire time he cared about you, the same way you did for him. He just didn't want to accept it. Maybe he was terrified you wouldn't see him the same.

"Dummy." you mutter. Leo smiled at that, scratching his neck. "I have been an idiot. As a leader I should have understood better."

"Maybe you should stop expecting yourself to constantly know the answer for everything Leo. Somethings just aren't that logical." He knew that, now.

"There's still so much I need to learn. Will you help me?" you blushed, trying to hide it.

"S-Sure. I am a genius after all." you boasted, nudging your glasses.

"Yes you are." you gazed at him, nibbling on your lower lip.

"Leo..that kiss.."

"I'm sorry! That was definitely not okay. I think I just..reacted." You could tell he was still a bit unnerved by it all. He still wasn't completely sure of your feelings.

"I kind of liked it." you mumble. Leo is still, processing your words. When he takes a step forward, you can't stop the quickening of your heart beat.

"Can I kiss you again?" The fact that he asks permission this time causes your heart to do flips. He's standing right in front of you, and his eyes have already zeroed in on your lips. You stop nibbling on your lips when you feel his warm palm on your cheek. He doesn't make another move, waiting for an answer. When words fail, you simply give a small nod. Leo smiles warmly, that all he needs.

He lowers to meet your lips, and as he does, his forehead lightly taps your glasses. You flush in embarrassment, and Leo just chuckles. "Have I ever told you that you're absolutely adorable in glasses." The comment makes your cheeks darken even more, and as you think of a reply, Leo banishes any chance of you forming coherent thoughts. His lips are so soft. And the way he's holding your face in his palms, it makes you want to melt on the spot. Every movement is gentle and almost calculated.

The right amount of pressure and passion. How does he know to kiss so well? It shocks you, the expert way his lips are clashing with yours. It's possible he's seen one to many movies, and like the prodigy he is, the skill was something he picked up quickly. "Leo.." You can't do much but submit to him, and this time. This time there is no doubt in your mind. Because you finally know his feelings, and he's aware of yours as well. When he picks you up bridal style, you're a bit taken by surprise, separating for a brief moment. As you do so, his eyes are a lot closer, and you can see everything. All his fears, wants, struggles, desires...

It's enough to overwhelm your heart. But you aren't afraid. Not at all. Because this is Leo. He may be terrible at voicing his feelings, but you know for a fact that he won't hurt you. Not at all. His blue bandana does wonders to highlight the similar glow of his eyes.

You can't look away, and you don't want to. Your hand presses to the center of his chest, and right beneath your palm you feel it. The insistent strumming. The look in your eyes changes to one of surprise, and he immediately knows why. "It's...harder for me to hide it when you're so close." This entire time he's been acting so confident and in control. Yet, he's just as smitten as you, Maybe ever more. You grin at that. "You don't have to." You reach up, reclaiming his lips, and nothing in the world seems sweeter than the taste of Leo's lips. And you know for a fact, nothing ever will.

#leonardo #leo x reader #raphael #michelangelo #donatello #splinter #trust #love #tech #cuteness #costumes #brothers #protective #newyork #halloween #enemies to lovers #cute

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babybluebex · 3 years

Text

all for you ch.1 [loki odinson x reader]

➽ pairing: loki odinson x fem!reader(y/n) ➽ word count: 1.8k ➽ summary: loki and you strike a deal with odin to save them both, and you have a few words with your new brother. ➽ warnings: arranged/forced marriage, general angst ➽ a/n: tbh thor is basically my brother irl so yall are kinda meeting my brother here lol

All thoughts of propriety had left me as I stormed into the throne room. Odin was Loki’s father, yes, and therefore my closest friend’s father, but he was still king and Allfather. He was my god and my enemy and, perhaps, my savior. “Odin,” I greeted him quickly. “Do you know what Loki has done?”

“Y/N, my dear girl,” Odin began. He was obviously flustered by my anger, an emotion that I had never shown to him before. “What’s the matter?”

“Your son--” I began. Loki entered the room, the doors banging with the force of him, and he interrupted me.

“Father, I have explanations--”

“For what?” I cried, turning to him. “You tricked me! What explanation could you possibly have?”

“Peace, both of you,” Odin said, rising from his throne. “Loki, I was under the impression that you were going to propose. You tricked her? In what way?”

“I’ll tell you,” I said. “He’ll never tell you the truth. God of tricks, god of lies… Loki found out that I was marrying a different man, and he disguised himself as my fiance! He took my Theoric’s place in the ceremony!” I turned to Loki to see practically no emotion in his eyes. It angered me, how calm he was. I hated him. I had gone from love and adoration to hate and fury in a matter of moments.

Before I knew it, my hand had lashed out, and I had slapped Loki across his cheek. “You say you love me, and you trick me!” I cried. “What sort of love is born of deceit?”

The guards at the helm of the throne room stepped forward at my attack on the prince, and Odin was between us in a flash. “Loki,” Odin began. The Allfather was imposing in his gold outfit and braided grey hair, but I could tell that Loki’s ego was overshadowing his father’s. “Did you do this?”

Loki took a deep breath. “I did,” he admitted. “And I regret absolutely nothing. I told you, you wretch, I told you that you would regret this--”

“You are insane if you think that I’m at fault for this!” I exclaimed. “Loki, I-I trusted you! You were my brother--”

“And now I’m your husband,” Loki spat. “Congratulations.”

“Allfather, I beg of you,” I said. “Please, tell me there’s a way to reverse this. There has to be, please.”

Odin looked at me, his jaw tightening as he thought. “I’m sure there is, dear Y/N,” he said. “If there isn’t, I’ll make a way. The royal council meets in a weeks’ time. I’ll propose an annulment then; and a punishment.”

“Father, a punishment is far too much,” Loki began. “Being married to her is enough--”

“Loki, do you not understand what you’ve done?” Odin growled, stepping to be chest-to-chest with his son. “You are married now. By the laws of Asgard, you are now officially in line for the throne. Not only did you trick Y/N, but you have done something that there might not be a way to reverse. The people will not care too kindly for a king who tricked his queen. You have made an enemy of your wife, your brother, your people, and me. I should banish you.”

“Why won’t you?” Loki asked.

Odin sighed. “If I banish you, then I must banish Y/N as well,” he said, and my breath caught in my throat. “She’s done nothing wrong and does not deserve such a punishment. We don’t want Asgard to fall into revolt at your actions, however, so we must keep the reality of this secret.”

“You surely are joking,” I interjected. “What of Theoric? My real fiance?”

“You don’t need to worry about him,” Loki told me plainly.

The warmth of anger filled my chest again. “Why?” I asked. “What have you done with him?” Loki shrugged, and the urge to slap him again bubbled up. “Answer me, you fuck!”

“I did what I had to,” Loki told me. “I killed him.”

A sob broke my chest. I didn’t quite love Theoric or care for him too deeply, but the thought that Loki had murdered him made my stomach broil. “I…” I began as my tears rolled down my cheeks. “I never want to see you again.”

“That’s too bad, my darling,” Loki said, and he stepped toward me. I took a step back and tripped on my dress, and Loki reached out to steady me. “We’re married now. You have no choice but to see me, and to love me. Or to pretend to, at least.”

I tried to steady my breathing and tear myself out of Loki’s grip, but a thousand years of comfort at his hand made me give in and press my head under his chin. “I hate you,” I sobbed, taking fistfuls of his clothes.

“I know.”

Keeping the secret from the people of Asgard was one thing. Keeping it from the family was something else. We had no worries of my mother or the priestess revealing our secret, so Odin made me and Loki swear to not tell Frigga, Thor, or Jane. I was in such deep disbelief of the entire situation that I agreed without so much as a second thought. The less people who knew, the easier it was to keep it contained.

The palace library was often a place of comfort for me as I grew up, and I found myself sitting in my normal place at the window. The sky was pink and orange, the gold city glittering in the sunset, and I tried to imagine what I would be doing had Loki not tricked me. I would be making a home with Theoric, no doubt. I would not be a princess or prospective queen, and I definitely would not be as conflicted as I was. I was angry, so much more than I ever thought was possible, but there was a small part of me that was relieved that I was married to Loki. Marrying the prince had privileges that even I couldn’t deny. I would always have a place to live and a family behind me. That was more than a lot could ask for.

“Ah, sister!” Came Thor’s booming voice, and I swore that I could have heard his thunder in the ceiling. “I figured that you would be here.”

As much as Loki was my brother, Thor was as well. He had called me sister for as long as I could remember, and the normalcy comforted me. “Am I that predictable?” I asked with a chuckle.

“You have always been one to study,” Thor said. He sat down next to me on the cushioned bench, knowing that I would allow it, and he tilted his head curiously. “But you are without a book. Is something wrong?”

I swallowed thickly and shook my head. “No,” I said. “In fact, everything is quite right. You see… Loki and I were married earlier today.”

Thor laughed. “I figured it was but a matter of time,” he said. “Congratulations. And where would your husband be, eh?”

I tried not to let the title faze me. That was my life now. At least, until Odin was able to annul the marriage. And who was to say that the royal council would even agree to that? “With the Allfather,” I answered. “I asked for a moment alone.”

“Is something the matter?” Thor asked.

“No,” I said quickly. “I only wished to look at the sunset one last time.”

“One last time before…?” Thor asked.

“My new life,” I said. “When I wake up in the morning, I’ll be renewed. A princess, someone that has worth.”

“You’ve always had worth, sister,” Thor told me. “To me, and to Loki, and to Father and Mother.”

“More worth, I meant,” I amended quickly. “Did you… When you and Jane were married, did you feel any different than before?”

Thor frowned and shook his head. “Are you having regrets?”

I drew my knees to my chest. “Not regrets, exactly,” I began. “Anxiety, I think. Just… On the brink of a new life. I think it’s only normal for me to be a bit scared.”

“Of course,” Thor nodded. “If it helps at all, I think you’ll be fantastic as a princess. And, perhaps, one day, as queen. Loki would not have married you if he didn’t believe in your abilities.”

“Did he ever tell you that he loved me?” I asked. “I never knew until he proposed. Am I just blind?”

“He told me once,” Thor said. “A long time ago. But I thought it was a fleeting thing. But now… I’m so very happy for you and my brother. And, please remember that Jane and I are here if you need support of any kind.”

“Thank you, Thor,” I said softly. I chewed on my tongue, and I finally reached out and wound my arms around him. Thor was a great hugger, and he wasted no time in embracing me tightly. I rested my cheek on his shoulder and clenched my jaw, trying not to cry. I wanted to tell him. I wanted him to know what Loki had done to me and what I was being forced into. But, alas, I had made a promise to my husband’s father.

“Brother!” Loki said from the doors to the library, and Thor detached himself from me.

“Congratulations!” Thor exclaimed, standing up, and he strided across the room to hug Loki. “I’m excited for the both of you!”

“Thank you,” Loki said. He resisted Thor’s hug, but that was normal. “Your support means the world.” Thor unwound himself from around his younger brother, and Loki came to me. I stood up, and Loki put his arms around my waist. Whether it was fake adoration or not, I couldn’t tell, but Loki looked at me with love in his eyes. A thought occurred to me; Loki loved me, but was that why he married me? Or was it purely to spite me for keeping the truth of my engagement from him? I wasn’t sure which option I preferred more.

“Truly, brother,” I said to Thor. “We were concerned that the family wouldn’t approve.”

“Why wouldn’t they?” Thor scoffed. “You two are a match made in the halls of Valhalla.”

“As close as Lo and I are,” I started. “I am still a commoner. It’s unusual for royalty to marry common people.”

“You were a commoner, my love,” Loki said softly, and he pushed a bit of my hair behind my ear. “That is all behind you now. I am here for you, for the rest of time.”

I clenched my teeth together, but smiled to keep up appearances. “And I could ask for nothing else,” I said, and I pressed closer to Loki. After a moment, I rose to kiss his cheek, and I spotted the pink flush that infiltrated his face. I had nearly forgotten his confession, and I had to remind myself that there was a hint of real adoration there. But his ultimate motives for tricking me were still unknown. “Only for your love, my darling prince.”

#loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki #loki odinson x reader #loki odinson x y/n #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x y/n #loki x reader #loki odinson fanfiction #loki laufeyson fanfiction #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x y/n #tom hiddleston fanfiction #loki odinson angst #loki laufeyson angst #tom hiddleston angst #marvel fanfiction #angst

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legobiwan · 4 years

Note

What we need is an AU in which Obes giving illegal aid to Mandalore in The Lawless was uncovered and he is put on trial with Ahsoka during The Temple Bombing arc.

I was feeling prompt-y so here’s a ficlet as answer. I…uh…don’t know how I got from a trial to the ending of this, but perhaps I’m channeling my Broken Ashes energies…. :o

—–

“…and with these brazen acts of treason - to the Senate, to the Republic, and the Jedi Order - “ Mas Amedda paused, lifting his broad face to survey the packed hall, as if he were meeting the gaze of every sentient in the room.

Every unscrupulous holojournalist hanging on tenterhooks, salivating over their next big byline, Anakin raged internally, his mechanical arm groaning as he gripped the armrests of his chair. Vultures. Every last being in this room circling above the remains of what had been Ahsoka’s glowing potential, her skill and intelligence wasting away under the bright lights of the Senate’s courthouse.

Anakin grit his teeth, pulling at the chair, which whined with the strain. The small noise earned him a fleeting glance of concern from Padmé, who was situated across from Anakin, the two of them holed up in the pod reserved for the accused’s defense team. A blatant show of bias on Anakin’s part, something the Council had vociferously warned him against lest they appear to be “in conflict with the rule of the Republic.”

He didn’t give a bantha’s ass about the Council right now. Especially when Obi-wan was nowhere to be seen.

Coward, Anakin seethed.

Mas Amedda unfurled an antiquated-looking flimsi, his eyebrows rising as he scanned the document. Something a little too close to satisfaction seeped through the Force, not only from him, but hundreds of other gleaming-eyed politicians who seemed a bit too enthusiastic about the possible execution of a Jedi.

Of a child.

“ - the court finds the former Jedi Padawan Ahsoka Tano guilty on all counts, including premeditated murder, attempted murder, sedition against the Republic, and multiple acts of terrorism against the Republic. Sentencing will be held tomorrow at 0800 hours,” the long-horned Chagrian intoned.

Ahsoka’s shoulders hunched at the verdict, her gaze dropping to the floor as she allowed herself to be escorted away by two Republic guards, a steady hand on each of her upper arms, her wrists bound in Force-suppressing cuffs.

And that was it. No last-minute heroics, no rushing into battle just when things seemed lost, lightsabers blazing. Unlike the front, this had been an invisible war, one that had Anakin swiping at phantoms for hours in the dingy Coruscant underworld, to no avail.

It was the Council’s fault, Anakin grit inwardly. It was Obi-wan’s fault, for letting -

“And now we turn to the last trial of the day,” Mas Amedda spoke again, his expression having curled in confusion as he narrowed his eyes at the datapad in his hand. Anakin only then noticed that the Council hadn’t moved from their spots in the observatory area reserved for Jedi and another visiting dignitaries. that if anything, they had gone even more rigid..

Something twinged in the Force, Anakin’s precognition hiccuping over the unexpected bump, his ire at the Council temporarily forgotten. What in the Nine Corellian Hells was going on -

Mas Amedda gestured at the stenographer droid, who pushed a button on its chest. “Trial number oh-eight-seven-four,” it buzzed in the same bored monotony of every civil servant Anakin had ever had to deal with on Coruscant. “The Galactic Republic and the Grand Army of the Republic versus Obi-wan Kenobi.”

An electric jolt surged through Anakin’s body and in half-a-second, he was on his feet, hands clasped on the balcony railing, his torso bent over the side of the pod as Obi-wan - Obi-wan, Anakin gaped, trying to wrap brain around this new reality - was marched to the same defense pedestal Ahsoka had occupied only moments before. Unlike Ahsoka, Obi-wan radiated his usual unperturbed calm, his posture perfectly erect, features settled into polite anticipation - the same look he had on any number of diplomatic encounters, the same infuriating equilibrium he exhibited whenever Anakin directed his not-so-rare anger in his direction.

Anakin’s mind whirred like an out-of-control astromech motor.

“What the kriff, Padmé?” he hissed at his wife.

Padmé turned to him in wide-eyed horror. “I…I don’t know, Ani. This wasn’t announced on the Senate schedule,” she whispered back, unable to take peel her gaze from the incongruous image of Obi-wan - Jedi Council member, High General of the Republic - on trial like a common criminal.

As with Ahsoka, Admiral Tarkin stepped forward to represent the prosecution.

“General,” the Admiral sneered, making no attempt to hide his contempt for the Jedi Master. “Or should I say, former General Kenobi. You are brought here today to answer to charges of rendering illegal aid to the planet Mandalore, a unilateral action not approved by the Jedi Council, Grand Army of the Republic, or the Senate, as dictated by military, civilian, and Jedi law. Furthermore, you stand accused of inciting war on said neutral planet as an agent of the Republic, subverting longstanding Republic law and intergovernmental treaties, an abuse of your office as both a High General and Jedi Council member, all charges that can and will be classified as treason against the Republic. Do you understand these charges?”

“Perfectly,” Obi-wan answered, his familiar tenor resonating throughout every corner of the courtroom, which buzzed with the revelation of this new information. Out of the corner of his eye, Anakin watched the press box explode into a flurry of activity. Apparently, they hadn’t known about this, either.

Mandalore. Anakin raced to connect any of the events of the past few weeks. It all seemed so long ago, with the bombing of the Temple, Ahsoka’s arrest and escape, and finally, her expulsion from the Order, the horrible chain of disasters taking precedence in his mind, an immoveable monolith of anger and fear that clouded his memory of almost anything else that had occurred in the past few months, forget the past few weeks.

And yet…Anakin squeezed his eyes shut, reaching to the Force, concentrating. Obi-wan had asked to borrow the Twilight, as a personal favor. Anakin had thought the request odd at the time - Obi-wan’s dislike of flying was only outstripped by his blatant disapproval of a vessel he had once called “a durasteel coffin with wings.” And Obi-wan himself had been…on edge, when he made the request, his Force presence a sharp blade, his thoughts uncharacteristically drifting from the conversation he was having with his former Padawan. At the time, Anakin had attributed it to stress - the war was, after all, taking a large piece out of all of them and Anakin had learned long ago that asking about it would only be met with all the aggravating, fluid evasion that had earned Obi-wan the moniker of “The Negotiator.”

Anakin hadn’t thought much else about it. After all, he had a rare multiday furlough on Coruscant, a break which somehow managed to coincide with Padmé’s increasing travel schedule, and one he intended to put to very good use. Even Obi-wan’s strange return to the Temple - in civilian clothes, bulky canvas bag hung over his shoulder, eyes shadowed with fatigue - hadn’t done much to darken Anakin’s good mood. In fact, he had almost forgotten he had lent Obi-wan the ship until he found an envelope of credits and a terse apology in Obi-wan’s slanted, neat handwriting waiting on the seat of his Jedi starcraft.

Why Obi-wan hadn’t left the envelope in Anakin’s quarters was not a question he had wanted to ponder at the time.

Could that have been it? He had heard the reports of civil unrest on Mandalore, of a military coup by dark agents of multiple criminal organizations. Had heard the whispers of the assassination of the Duchess, a topic Anakin had no intention of raising with Obi-wan unless the other man did so first.

It all seemed too strange to be real.

“And former General Kenobi,” Tarkin’s posh, nasal voice wrenched Anakin back to reality. “Do you deny that two weeks’ previous, you took the Republic-registered shuttle Twilight and traveled to Mandalore system after receiving a transmission from the Duchess Satine Kryze?”

“I do not,” Obi-wan answered evenly.

Anakin’s eyebrows shot upwards. That explained where the Twilight went.

“And do you deny,” Tarkin continued, a hard, greedy glint in his eye,”that you traveled to Mandalore with the sole purpose of rendering aid to a neutral government, without the approval of the Senate, the Jedi Council, or the Grand Army of the Republic, that your actions - or lack thereof - spurred a civil conflict leading to the death of the Duchess Kyrze under mysterious circumstances, and that you willingly undermined Republic law in order to further your own agenda and possibly the agenda of the Jedi Council?”

Obi-wan was silent for a moment, his Force presence nearly invisible to Anakin, as if it had been swallowed by a black hole. When he spoke again, his voice exhibited the slightest amount of strain.

“As to the first accusations - no, those events occurred more or less as outlined. I received a transmission from the Duchess Kryze requesting my help as the city of Sundari was under attack. Knowing the Senate would not approve such interference by the GAR, I traveled to Mandalore on my own to attempt to diffuse the situation.” Obi-wan paused, his eyebrows furrowing. “There were…circumstances I was not prepared for when I arrived. You are correct that the Duchess was killed and a civil war now rages on-planet.”

What? Anakin couldn’t help his mouth from dropping. Obi-wan? His Obi-wan? Disobeying the Council and the Republic? A quick glance at the Jedi Council didn’t tell him anything - in face, they looked even more dour now than they had during Ahsoka’s trial.

“As to the second point - “ Obi-wan continued, a bit too cheerfully. “I suppose it could be seen that way, from a certain point of view. I do not deny my guilt in this matter, if that is what you are hoping for, Admiral. In fact, I am far more guilty of treason than Ahsoka Tano, and would gladly exchange my sentence for hers.”

“We are not here to compare the building crimes of the Jedi, Master Kenobi!” Tarkin bit. “We are here to establish your guilt, which you seem to be all too happy to corroborate, so with the permission of the Chancellor, I move to proceed directly to sentencing - “

“My dear Admiral,” Obi-wan interrupted, an unfamiliar, feral grin playing on his features. Anakin’s face furrowed in confusion even as the Force flicked its tail dangerously. What are you doing, Obi-wan?

“My conviction is all but assured. While the Council has graciously agreed to only suspend my seat and Master title until the outcome of this trial, I imagine my time in the Jedi Order is now reaching its end. Unfortunately for you, I have no desire nor intention to see my supposed crimes paid for, at least not yet.”

Tarkin frowned, his fist clenching. “You act in direct opposition to the Senate, the military law, Master Kenobi. And now you threaten to undermine the very fabric of our judicial system, threaten a coup by the Jedi - “

Obi-wan leveled a glare at Tarkin, the intensity of the stare raw enough to turn Anakin’s stomach. Something was really wrong here, something with Obi-wan had changed and he didn’t know what to do.

“The Jedi have no intention of overthrowing the government, Admiral. Myself, on the other hand - “ Obi-wan shrugged. “Let’s just say I have other plans.”

That did catch the attention of the Council as several members stood, hands straying to their weapons. Even the frenzied activity of the press box came to a halt, flimsis slipping off tall stacks, fluttering to the ground as several jaws dropped in astonishment.

Tarkin chuckled, unfazed by Obi-wan’s bizarre behavior. Perhaps he had expected the Jedi Master to act this way, expected all Council members to secretly harbor these desires. Anakin could only watch in horror as the scene unfolded, Padmé having come to his side, her hand on top of his.

“What’s happening, Ani?” she whispered.

Anakin could only shake his head.

“You do realize, Master Kenobi, you are in no position to make such threats. And that any plans you have made will be ruthlessly crushed, and by now your own execution is all but guaranteed.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Obi-wan answered, stepping on the railing of the podium with one swift movement, catching Anakin’s eye for the briefest of moments - apology, promise, and something else all flashing across their bond in an instant before Obi-wan stepped of the platform and plummeted into the deep chasm of the courtroom.

The room exploded in chaos, several delegations of Senators screaming in high-pitched ululations, Tarkin and the other military leaders barking out orders, the Council racing from their podium, Mace Windu and Kit Fisto leaping themselves over the barricade to follow Obi-wan, who was assuredly not dead.

Not dead, Anakin thought, falling into his seat, shock numbing the whirlwind of emotions threatening to overwhelm him.

Not dead.

The Jedi Master and General were dead, executed by Tarkin’s words and Obi-wan’s own confession in front of a hundred holocameras. The man remained, however, most likely already beating a path to the Coruscant underworld, perhaps going as far as the next star system, if he planned it right. Which, knowing Obi-wan, he likely did, to the millimeter. Maybe he’ll even pick up Ahsoka on the way, the bright, strange idea streaked across the muddled static of Anakin’s confusion.

Jedi Master Obi-wan Kenobi was dead.

But who would rise in his place?

#Anonymous #hello there #ask legobiwan #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #wilhuff tarkin #okay so there's that #what?#weird #i don't know what i'm doing #writing #hahahahahaa

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its-a-branwen-thing · 4 years

Text

On Fear

I want to talk about fear and Ironwood here (yes, I know, don’t we all) as well as Oscar (he was a highlight for me this season) because I think these two carried a lot of the Volume’s scenes in their dynamic. They were just...so well written and their conflict was so wonderfully dynamic.

It’s long so, under the cut

Ozpin’s speech at the end, regarding fear, really struck me as something directly relating to Ironwood’s character’s actions, specifically two of those fears:

Fear of Loss

“You can’t just go dark in the field like that!”

“It is so good to see you all.”

“Get a communication tower up in the sky, higher than the Grimm can survive...so we never lose contact with each other again.”

Ironwood seems to reflect on this sentiment...a lot. He cares about his team. He hugs Qrow and tells him it’s good to see him again. He’s relieved to see the students again, he grants them their licenses to help with the coming conflict. He trusts them to make the choices...he ultimately will make for them. But it seems so prevalent throughout this and even the last volumes that Ironwood functions at his worst when alone. He was called paranoid, and his control is fairly absolute. Sure he gathered a team, but they did not offer him guidance they offered him loyalty, blind obedience, and trust. The latter is important in that it’s what Clover says before his death. That he trusts James with his life. (more on that...in a separate post)

But he seems fearful of being left alone. Of being in the dark without the guidance of others. He was desperate to call Ozpin back, to consult with him, and Oscar served, to him, as a poor substitute. Ironwood says he had to make his own plan in Ozpin’s absence and he did--and it was an arguably good plan (without the stress on Mantle part). But the crux of it is that he wants to make sure they wouldn’t lose contact again, none of them. Because being alone is one of Ironwood’s greatest fears.

Fear of Failure

“Some things matter more, I think. Keeping our humanity...it’s what makes us different from her.”

“Sometimes I worry that’s her greatest advantage. Without humanity does she still feel fear? Does she ever hesitate? When Salem hit Beacon, even with all my ships, all my soldiers, I was no match for her. I’ve never felt so helpless. The way she...told me she was there.”

This is key to Ironwood’s turn. I loved that it was planted in the season relatively early. I love that Cinder placed the chess piece in his office as a reminder. And I love that we saw that foreshadowing without really knowing what it meant outside of showing us his realized fears. Of Salem winning. Of his failure to stop her. And in the end, he was proven to be correct in that fear. And it was what ultimately lead to him turning his back on the unity of his allies and trusting only in his own judgement. Because Ozpin is gone. He is surrounded by yes-men and fledgling huntresses and huntsmen outside of Qrow, who he has a rocky relationship with at best when it comes to judgement calls, even if, and I’ll reiterate this again, Qrow always seems to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“We have to stop Salem. Nothing matters more.”

“The path you’re heading down where you’re the only one with the answers, where you do the thing you think is right no matter the cost, it’s not going to take you anywhere good.”

-----

Now I want to move into the finale because, once again, these two stole the show outside of Penny and Winter and the maiden powers.

“It was smart of you, not to bring the lamp down here. I wouldn’t trust me either right now.”

This exchange occurs after what is, by all accounts, Ironwood’s fall. It’s after he thinks Winter is behind him only to realize it’s Oscar (looking suspiciously like a certain Headmaster). Ironwood knows he looks bad. Ironwood knows he’s now the enemy of our protagonists. But he’s made it clear time and time again that he doesn’t care what people think of him. What matters, always, is that he does what he thinks is the right thing to defeat Salem. It’s the climax of this volume. It rips Qrow and Clover apart. It rips RWBY and the Ace Ops apart. They have different views of what the right thing is. But what Oscar says during his first exchange in the Vault with Ironwood really cements the idea of loyalty, which is unconditional for Ironwood, and trust, which is unconditional for Oscar (and now, hopefully, Ozpin).

“I am not going to end up like Lionheart. Do you believe in me?”

“I do believe in you. But not only you. I think the best thing you could do is sit down and talk to the people you’re most afraid to.”

And Ironwood does talk to the people he’s most afraid to. He sits down with Robyn, he sits down with RWBY, and he eventually reveals Salem to the people of Atlas and Mantle. It’s a brilliant misdirect because even though he does work with others in his plan, it’s on his own terms. We think we win it after E10, but in E11 the truth is revealed once more. Ironwood has to do the right thing now. And he’s made it clear it doesn’t matter the cost. Because he doesn’t trust in the judgement or opinions of his team. He trusts only in his own not because he’s villainous, but because he is bearing the weight of decisions he thinks only he can bear. (It’s called Atlas for a reason, I’m sure)

Lionheart was a coward. But so is Ironwood, if not in the way he imagines himself to be. He is stalwart against Salem. And when she is in his office, he refuses to yield, even though he is clearly terrified. He stands by his rejection of her offer. Ironwood is such an amazingly complicated anti-villain because he’s expressly that: a good man pushed to the brink and making heinous choices likely because he doesn’t want others to have to make them. We don’t necessarily see him as a full-on villain until he pulls the trigger on Oscar. And even than, I can’t be the only one who felt bad knowing Salem was bearing down on both cities, Winter lost the maiden powers, and therefor their access to the relic, his army is spread too thin and is weary from the Grimm swarm, his top Ace Op is dead, and the rest of them are out of commission just like Winter. This is a terrible loss for Ironwood. And he’s lost the support of half of his friends. RWBY, JNR, Penny, Oscar and Ozpin, and even Pietro even if it was his fault. He has the Ace Ops, he has Winter, but the moment they open their mouths to resist an order or offer an alternative he won’t hear it. And the man who wanted so desperately to have communications spread across the kingdoms, who wanted to work with teams of trusted allies, who worried over the safety of friends--is now left alone having failed at trying to stop Salem. Because he bore the weight of it all himself instead of trusting others to bear it with him.

----

“Trust is what I’m hoping to fix. I know we can still figure this out. All of it, together. Please.”

“Do you intend to fight me?”

“No, that’s exactly what she wants. I guess it’s because of Oz but..holding it helps calm me down when I’m afraid.”

“You still think I’m afraid...”

“We all are. It’s what do in our fear that reve--”

“That’s easy for you to say! You can label me whatever you’d like but the fact of the matter is I was right. The minute I softened, let my guard down, that’s when Salem had her opening.”

“If you abandon Mantle you abandon our best chance of reuniting the world, you abandon Remnant, leaving millions to fend for themselves so a few can survive, what kind of--”

“All excellent philosophical points that won’t matter if Salem wins.”

The reason this quote slaps is because it’s what some of the audience is probably thinking. He’s right. Why does it matter if they’re all dead? But Oscar, RWBYJNR and Penny, and even Qrow, all seem to embody the idea that there are things that are more important that the “big picture” because without those smaller, simpler acts of human bravery, what are they even fighting for?

“Listen to me--”

“No, you listen. I am done letting others’ inability to see the big picture get in the way of doing what’s right.”

And that, friends, is what I call thematic justice. Ironwood cements his position opposed to our heroes by an act of betrayal so foreshadowed it might as well have been predicted by the opening (haha...ha). And how can we reconcile that act as an audience? It’s difficult, and I say this because I sympathize with Ironwood while also still maintaining my stance that RWBY’s being painted as correct is absolutely the correct take because Ironwood’s betrayal is what Salem wants. And he’s too blinded by fear to see beyond his own judgement, to trust in the judgment of others because he has been lied to and he has been manipulated. That’s what, I think, makes him so compelling and hard to let go of as a hero. Because he’s so familiar. To us. Because he’s thinking he’s strong enough to make the right decision while neglecting to be in conversation with anyone else. Remember, he brought his army to Vale too.

What’s so conflicting about Ironwood is that this isn’t a malicious, evil dictator bent on ruling. Clover trusted him until the end. And it seems Winter does too. I doubt those are just pawns paying him lip service. Ironwood is a fearful man shouldering the responsibility of decision-making. This is a desperate hero we’ve followed who has fallen because all this time he’s shown to be a good man, and that’s a hard pill to swallow. After shooting Oscar, a child, I think it’s safe to say he’s officially become an antagonist because that act wasn’t just a stone-cold rejection of Ozpin’s ideals. It was attempted murder.

Ironwood does make the hard decisions. But he does it alone. And that doesn’t always make those decisions right.

Bruh, V8 is gonna hurt, isn’t it?

#rwby #james ironwood #i just...love this show #thank you crwby for all these gifts that keep on giving!#also this is not ironwood defense squad #shooting oscar was reprehensible #but i love character reflections and this is that #day...3 of hiatus got me like #rwby spoilers

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rinusagitora · 3 years

Text

Another empty seat in the city of ghosts.

Fandom: BLEACH

Characters: Toushirou Hitsugaya, Momo Hinamori, Kisuke Urahara, Tessai Tsukabishi, Ururu Tsumugiya, Jinta Hanakari, Yuzu Kurosaki, Ichigo Kurosaki, Karin Kurosaki

Pairings: HitsuKarin, others not mentioned

Words: 1.6k

Summary: Shinigami!Karin AU. Chapter 1/8. WARNINGS- mentions of suicide, dysfunctional families; Karin has taken her life. What follows is a maelstrom of emotion.

AO3

It was hard to believe that, only days ago, Karin took her own life.

Toushirou saw it coming from miles and miles away. He was the one who cleaned up her cut wrists. Hurried over when she was suffering. But it wasn't enough.

Ultimately, Karin got what she wanted: a chance to be a shinigami.

Toushirou and Momo were being processed by the gate guardians. Following Aizen's desertion, they'd tightened up gateways to other dimensions. Now, captains and lieutenants were unable to travel without permission, unless they wanted to receive potentially fatal electrocution from the sigils staining their skins.

But they passed through later. Upstairs, Kisuke Urahara was showing them their gigai.

"Hinamori-fukutaichou, I'm afraid this is vastly different from your last gigai. Since your stay is short-term, it's more or less a... silhouette. Only purposes being harboring your soul, and suppressing your powers. Since it's a ceremony with so many powered folks packed together, we're trying this to avoid hollow attacks."

"Aye," Momo replied, nodding.

"Yours is similar, Hitsugaya."

Toushirou frowned. "It's Hitsugaya-taichou," he corrected Kisuke. Kisuke merely chuckled. He probably blamed Toushirou for Karin's suicide as well. Like he'd talk her into something so traumatic. Asshole.

"Yes... yours is similar, of course, except for... well, deadened nerves. Kurosaki Yuzu is livid."

"Fuck me..." he grumbled.

"I'd rather not, but I'd be prepared for a slap or two. Hopefully, she leaves the nether region alone, but if not, it is equally as dead."

"Thanks for the heads up," Toushirou said. "Where is Karin?"

"The temple, with Kurosaki Ichigo. He's kept a tight leash on her since the... the..." Kisuke couldn't finish. He looked like he was about to cry.

"Thank you," Toushirou said. As much as he hated Kisuke, Toushirou knew Kisuke was fond of Karin, perhaps as fond as his children were.

"Well, I will see you two there... I have to get ready for the memorial service."

"Thank you, Urahara-san. Take care."

He and Momo stepped into their gigai, prepped with black kimono, although Momo's hem and sleeves were adorned with flowers. Lilies and marigolds. How appropriate.

"You remembered the envelope?"

"Of course," Momo replied, straightening her collar. "The car is waiting. Shall we?"

"Aye."

On the drive over, Momo lit her pipe. Toushirou was never particularly fond of tobacco, or how his sister's habit ruined her skin, but given what was to come, he could sure use a puff. Or a drink.

Maybe he should've brought Rangiku... She didn't cope much better during funerals, but she, at least, would have something that she was willing to share to take off the edge. Very much unlike Momo. The only thing she ever really shared with him was conversation. Practically force-fed him, refrained from sharing the shit he cared about.

They came to a stop before the temple. Many were filing in. Toushirou recognized a few. Uryuu arrived just before them, Hiyori loitered in the doorway. Many he didn't recognize.

Jinta and Ururu were there with their other father Tessai. They bowed in unison.

"Yuzu is livid," Ururu said.

"So Urahara told us."

"I stand by her."

Tessai knocked Ururu upside her head. "Enough, honey," he warned, then turned to Toushirou and Momo. "Thank you for coming. Karin-chan will be pleased."

"I imagine," Momo replied, still smoking. "What should we expect from Kurosaki Ichigo?"

"We're keeping him in line if Yuzu doesn't," Jinta replied. "He agreed to keep the peace when Tou-tou and he talked."

"And the Kurosaki girl?" Momo asked.

"Yuzu?"

"Nay, the one we're here for."

Ururu looked inside. "She's... not crying. I think she's distancing herself from this ordeal."

"Perhaps it's for the better."

Tessai said, "Hand-off will occur before cremation. Kurosaki Isshin only agreed to allow us in for the service since Karin asked, but the burial is for family and Kurosaki Ichigo's close friends only."

"I see Kuchiki-fukutaichou as well."

"She won't be causing trouble. She's here as a family friend."

Toushirou and Momo bowed again. "Many thanks," Toushirou said. "We'll head in."

Rukia was the first to spot them. She strode over. "Neither of you are welcome. Please leave before Yuzu sees you."

"The deceased requested us, and the patriarch has permitted us entry," he replied. Everyone was so fucking hostile...

"No matter. Do you want to start shit?" she hissed.

Momo said, "We haven't started anything, Kuchiki-fukutaichou. Besides... do you think it wise to start shit here? Our powers are merely dampened, but I know for a fact there are enough of us gathered here to alert trouble if contention brews."

Before Rukia could reply, Yuzu stormed over. Rukia quickly escaped.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Your father said we were welcomed to the ceremony," he said.

She jabbed a finger against his chest. "You may as well have murdered my sister! I don't want you here!"

Toushirou sighed. "And I do?"

"And who is this skank?" Yuzu hissed, jerking her chin to Momo.

"My sister." Toushirou frowned. "Don't treat her like my mistress."

Momo encased Yuzu's hands. "We are here to grieve just as ye. I understand how difficult this is. My husband passed during a tumultuous time... We hadn't time to bury him, either."

Toushirou almost rolled his eyes. Momo learned how to lie from the best. But it worked. Yuzu relaxed.

"I'm sorry. It's been... it's been a long couple of days."

"There's nothing to apologize for, Kurosaki-san." Momo bowed. "If you need anything, please let me know. I haven't service at home, but Urahara-san can reach me if needed."

"Thank you."

"May we take a seat?"

"In the back, please. The front rows are taken."

"Aye. Thank you again, Kurosaki-san."

Momo and Toushirou took a seat. Because of their gigai suppressing their powers, Toushirou was unable to see Karin, although knew she was there. There were too many people of strong reiatsu concentrated in the temple. It risked a hollow attack. The dampening was meant as a security measure.

The Seireitei owed Ichigo too much to go against a small favor, however cruel it was to Karin.

"I can see why Kurosaki-san is so upset," Momo said.

"Karin was in pain," he insisted.

"I'm in no position to judge her," Momo reminded Toushirou. "But look at the Kurosaki family... Stiff as boards. The little one is the only one weeping, and neither of them is consoling her."

"They're... dysfunctional. I'm sure she refused it."

"For good reason?"

"Aye. They... nay, we all, have lied to her for years. I'm sure she harbors conflicting feelings."

Momo hummed. "Aye."

Toushirou took a good look at the altar, surrounded by white lilies. He frowned. White was never Karin's color. Blacks, reds... Hydrangeas or marigolds would've been more appropriate.

But she was beautiful in her photo. Smiling, youthful. It made him mad too. She was happy with him. With Jinta and Ururu, not some sad, doctored school photo.

Thankfully, Momo didn't seem to pick up on his internal tantrum, merely smoked.

The time came for the service. A priest stepped up and uttered a sutra. Toushirou admittedly zoned out during it. None of it concerned them. What did was Karin. She was in there, but he was unable to console her, take her to her new home, to ease her pain... It was bullshit. Complete bullshit.

Once the service came to an end, Toushirou and Momo quickly escaped, joining Kisuke outside.

"I don't have much time... I'm going to the cremation as well," he said.

They wordlessly stepped out of their gigai. They were tucked into the back of a van and covered with a shimmery sheet that made them completely vanish. Momo and he bowed.

"Best of, Urahara-san."

"Kurosaki will meet you by the aqueduct under an overpass. It's in the center of town," he explained. "Anticipate some... some shit from him too. He's very upset."

"Thanks."

With that as their goodbye, they sped off to the heart of Karakura. Toushirou saw Ichigo's hair from the sky, and they sunk to the ground.

The second Toushirou saw Ichigo, he wanted to strangle him. It felt like they were sizing each other up. Toushirou was sure to lose an arm, but it would've been satisfying clocking him.

Karin was sitting on a bench. There was still a generous amount of chain leftover, thankfully. Toushirou just hoped she hadn't experienced the chain consuming itself... the immense pain.

Toushirou couldn't bring himself to bow to Ichigo, but Momo did. "Thank you for allowing us into your sister's service, Kurosaki-sama."

"It wasn't my choice."

"Nonetheless," Momo said, smiling. "I'd like this to be done in an as expeditious manner as possible."

Karin hopped to her feet. Toushirou instantly wanted to sweep her off her feet and carry her like his bride into the other world, away from that mess. That nightmare. "Let's go," she said.

"Hang on." Ichigo stopped her with his arm out shooting. His eyes bore into Toushirou's, and he glared back. "I want him to admit his fault in this."

"Jesus Christ!" Karin shrieked. "I killed myself because there's nothing for me here! Toushirou had nothing to fucking do with it."

"Bullshit! He had to have said something."

"It's your fault I killed myself, alright? It's all your fault! I got tired of getting steamrolled and gaslit by you so I killed myself to get the hell away from you!" Karin ducked his arm and ran over to Toushirou. He happily accepted her embrace. "I'm going to the Seireitei. I'm becoming a shinigami... It's the only way I'll be happy. Fulfilled."

Ichigo looked hurt. Crying. Toushirou turned away, opening the senkaimon into the other side.

He had no idea what awaited them in the future. He hoped, at least, Karin's suffering eased.

#bleach #hitsukarin #shinigami karin au #toshiro hitsugaya #momo hinamori #karin kurosaki #ichigo kurosaki #ururu tsumugiya #kisuke urahara #tessai tsukabishi #jinta hanakari #yuzu kurosaki

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motherstone · 3 years

Note

When you have the time could you share the bad au?

Anon, I am deeply grateful that you asked, but I must warn you that this is LONG (16+ arcs long and that’s because I havent conceptualized the others yet) and i am only sending you pt.1 Be warned.

More under the cut:

Deviation from canon:

· Anything involving the aliens is dropped

· Algos island won’t be a gas station, but an actual fucking island

· The Voice is spiritual in nature.

· The Old is New scene occurs around Book 5

· Trellis eventually gets some fractions of his memories, but I dunno how yet

· The Resistance at Frontera won’t be THE Resistance but the Elven resistance – they refused contact with the human resistance because they’re very discriminatory and hostile. The ER is composed of the researchers/engineers/etc and their kids that the Elf King failed to purge when they revolted once they fully realized that they are actually creating weapons of mass destruction

· Emily gets trapped in the Void

· There’s a whole lot more, but I can’t recall all of them

Note: Do take that these are not yet properly developed. Many of these are ideas I just enjoy playing around with. It WOULD not put much attention to most characters because a.) I haven’t nuanced their roles nor what part they should play in the story and b.) the narrative focuses on Trellis because I’m biased and ngl the potential of the story he could create is a LOT. He has sooo many potential conflicts, be it in self, society, and nature I couldn’t help myself. Also, do take note that this story is meant to be a tragedy – it’s going to explore Trellis and his reign, and the burden and subsequent consequences from it. The narrative doesn’t seek to “punish him” because 90% of the problems he encountered are out of his control and there is barely a perfect solution to anything, so he is bound to create ruthless and even questionable decisions as a result of his inexperience and young age despite his intelligence; all of these I am intrigued to explore about because all of it I just made up lmao.

In addition, my head blurred between what is canon, what I want canon to be, and what you know about the “canon” in my head (which is likely, not a lot because I never post abt it), so I may suddenly spout things that may seem out of context because you guys lack the background behind it. So if you have questions, pls feel free to send them my way. These arcs are INCREDIBLY condensed because if I spout too many details, I’d forget the details in other arcs. So. Yeah.

ARCS

STONEKEEPER TRIALS

- Guardian Council arrives at Algos Island which contains the knowledge to purify the Voice from the Elf King (which should weaken him and thus easier to kill him)

- Stonekeepers of past made sure to put security measure to prove the worthiness of the person seeking said knowledge and using it responsibly for the right reasons by subjecting them to a Trial (they will experience their deepest greatest desires and greatest fears as well)

- Technically, the knowledge isn’t a concrete thing – it only works once per keeper, but it modifies itself to fill in the gaps of the knowledge they lack but seek (so like if youre seeking how to heal, the Temple will give you that knowledge and THAT knowledge only)

- Lacking time, all three decided to take the Trials separately but at the same time.

- This is supposed to be the fic on ao3 is about, even had an outline n all but its too long so I’ll post it later

- tl;dr: Tellis finished first and is the one who gained the knowledge, and Vigo finished second, but Emily isn’t waking up at all. Eventually they all got attacked by the shadows

- Trellis sends Vigo up to get the airship to them as he stays behind to protect Emily from the shadows

- He’s getting super desperate as the enemies increase but Emily isn’t waking up until she suddenly transforms and tries to kill him

- He barely survives but the Firebird gets away. The rest of the crew retrieved him, but when he retells them what happened…

- They didn’t believe him. They think he sabotaged Emily.

BURNING OF IPPO

- It more or less goes the same in Supernova, except the memory thing doesn’t happen and none of the Amulet trusts him except Riva and Vigo. Leon Miskit and Karen are still on Cielis while Navin n Aly are on Frontera but they don’t know that yet.

- So the firebird attacks as usual, but instead of taken out early in the game, he is pushed to the limit protecting the city and its citizens as he’s the only one who can create a barrier while Vigo distracts FB and Riva evacuates the people

- Trellis also bothers to release the elf soldiers in prison when it burns so they would be able to evacuate (will be important)

- He nearly dies from exhausting himself, but manages to repel the FB to leave Ippo alone after much of it is burned. He is devastated by the aftermath because most of the people burned right in front of his eyes (will be important)

- Worried at FB’s destructive power, they argue between pursuing it or ending the war. Riva argues trellis can’t go around protecting every city as its too fast for them, so it leaves only one viable option; end the war as quickly as possible to focus on Emily before she burns everything and kill everyone

- They eventually reunite with the Cielis army, but eventually gets abandoned again alongside the human resistance because they refuse to serve under Trellis, who was going to command the assault

- Lacking an army, the elven, Luciean, and Ippoei soldiers then offers to help

- They reconvene with the ER on Frontera, finally reuniting with Navin, Aly and Pil, who were all horrified by the news. Navin has mixed feelings but ultimately agrees it was his fault and is optimistic Em will be ok. Aly on the other hand is apprehensive but continues to trust him.

- Meanwhile, Vigo departs to convince the CA to change their minds and get more allies, while Trellis, Luger, and the rest forms a plan…

BATTLE OF VALCOR

- Trellis pretends to be captured by Elf Army to get close enough to the Elf King to kill him – avoiding as much bloodshed as possible. Unfortunately, he was decided to be executed before he could confront him so all hell breaks lose as the disguised soldiers ditches their disguises and fights the remaining EA on the king’s side

- Note: Trellis is waaay more powerful and skilled here although his destructive powers are nowhere near Emily’s

- He tries to make his fights as curt and decisive as possible to avoid wasting precious energy for the confrontation (I swear to god the fight sequence is more elaborate in my head but hnng I’m busy rn). Eventually he does make it at the temple of kings – where his father was waiting

- Trellis was nowhere weak, but he barely holds ANY dice against his father’s power and was very close to nearly dying

FALL OF THE KING

- He was saved by the timely intervention of Vigo and Riva – who has finally arrived with the CA (who got threatened into cooperating)

- They barely get the upperhand, but they manage to get Trellis close enough to enact the Scission but, got uphold by the fact that the man they were trying to kill wasn’t dead in the first place but ALIVE

- The Elf King begs Trellis to end it all, the mercy of release, for death, and it horrified him into freezing into place – MISTAKE

- He gets a fatal wound being stabbed because the EK was tricking him (he is alive, but he was not really manipulated by the Voice – He was always evil all along), sneering at his softness that was never quite wrung out by the abuse

- But that also gave Trellis the perfect opportunity to cast the Scission, which he then does at nearly the cost of his own life

- The Voice gets cut off from the EK and retreated to the Void, and the EK dies from his wounds, and Trellis was about to meet the same fate

- All three of them are barely held together by threads, but Vigo uses the last of his power so trellis could survive. At this, Trellis just has a mental breakdown and he doesn’t want to go any further, being so close to his breaking point because of all the horror he has to endure (ohh boii and it doesn get better from here)

- But Riva was pleading for him to get up, get the mask and get to the other side, to show the mask, the soldiers that he WON and Gulfen surrenders and end the war. These two stumble slowly, but steadfastly, Riva practically the only thing supporting Trellis as they try to get to the fighting

- They eventually manage to reach it, but trellis has to stand alone, composed, undefeated, because if it were anything less, people would challenge him. He declares a surrender.

- The battlefield silences. One by one, the weapons drop.

#ask #asks #amulet bad ending au

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