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reidyoulikeabook · 3 years

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How The Team Figure Out You’re Together

These are the first criminal minds drabbles i’ve ever written so please go easy on me! So these are ‘how the team figures out you’re together’ for: Hotch, Spencer, Morgan, and Emily.

Summary: With a team of profilers around, it’s only a matter of time until at least one of them figures out you’re together. This is how you give yourselves away.

Warnings: Some short and non-specific references to drugs and case-violence. Gender neutral reader in all cases except Emily’s (happy to adapt this if wanted!)

A/N: this is a new blog and i’m accepting requests so please feel free to fire any headcanon/drabble/fic requests my way :)

Hotch

With your jobs being what they are, there’s a need for a very clear boundary between professional and personal. So, at work he’s Hotch, Hotchner, sir. At home, he’s Aaron, babe, sir. It took some getting used to at first, there were some slips of the tongue at home when you’d shout “Hotch, dinner’s ready!” But, for the most part, you’d gotten pretty good at slipping into it with relative ease. To you, it’s kind of like they’re different people anyway. Stern leader Hotchner who barks commands is an entirely different person to deal with than Aaron who asked to borrow your pink fluffy socks while you watched a romcom last night (he said he had forgotten to do laundry, but you had your reservations about whether that was true, not that you blamed him).

It’s a Wednesday morning and you’re all sat on the jet, having been called out to a pretty gnarly case in Idaho.

Hotch is making himself a coffee when the plane jerks and you all go flying and he trips sideways and

You’re shouting “Aaron!” in a concerned tone before it even registers that it’s left your mouth

And Morgan’s looking at you with that shit-eating smirk on his face, quirking his eyebrow as if to say ‘Aaron? Did you just say Aaron?’

Hotch is more flustered than anything, he’d thankfully already set down the pot and the coffee he was holding wasn’t too hot so he’s just wiping himself off with napkins and trying to ignore the fact that Emily’s staring at him and his cheeks are a little more flushed than he’d like them to be

You try to play it off with a much more casual “Are you okay?”

He looks at you and nods, comes to sit back next to you but sits a little straighter in his seat and makes an exaggerated effort to talk to Dave

You and Aaron laugh about it when you get back to the hotel room together that night. He puts on an imitation of your voice and mimics the way you’d shouted his name, shaking his head, “You know if you’re going to react like that when I’m a cup of coffee that could be a problem in our line of work.”

You roll your eyes, “Well you’ve got a bullet proof vest for unsubs, I’m sure we can find something to protect your hands from the very real threat that is boiling water.”

He laughs, jostling you closer to him and kissing the top of your head, “So dutifully concerned. You got the worried spouse act nailed.”

“And on a plane full of profilers.”

“They won’t say anything.”

“No, luckily for you they respect you too much to mention it to you.”

They do mention it to him though. You manage to get past maybe another two weeks before you all go out for drinks together. Apparently, they had their suspicions, but your accidental ‘Aaron’ was all the confirmation they needed.

They’re all incredibly happy for you though. Which is nice, even if part of the reason they’re so happy is because it means they have something to tease you about.

Spencer

You and Spencer have been close ever since you joined, what with you both being the babies of the team. It bonded you together, that and the fact you got on really well.

He always comes to either you or J.J with problems, and lately he’s been leaning on you a lot more.

But nobody really thinks all that much of it, J.J’s just had Henry and Spencer probably doesn’t want to worry about bothering her with his problems. That’s what everyone chalks it down to.

Until you’re on a case that involves drugs. Spencer’s a little on edge throughout the case and you stay with him throughout. You bring him coffees and ask him questions to help keep him distracted, stay late with him so you can focus on narrowing down the letters that have been sent in by the unsub. You don’t know all that much about handwriting analysis but you play it off as just providing a second set of eyes. Spencer really appreciates that.

Like he really appreciates that. That you easily play off your concern for him as just you helping with the case. It’s said with such ease and so convincingly that he almost believes it and that takes the pressure off, makes him feel less like a burden.

He manages to keep himself together while you work the case. You keep a watchful eye on him, not suffocating him or hovering, just making sure he knows you’re close by.

And everybody thinks you’re just being a supportive friend, because J.J is there to lend a hand too.

It’s not until the end of the case, when the unsub has been caught, interviewed, everything is wrapped up, that he lets himself fall apart a little.

You’re headed back to the hotel room you and Emily have been sharing, when you come back to find Spencer stood outside of it.

He opens his mouth to speak but the words don’t come out.

“It’s okay,” you say, taking a step to close the gap between you, “Can I?”

He nods.

You wrap your arms around him, holding him just the right amount of tight. And he practically falls into your arms, clasping your body to his. His eyes squeeze shut and this look of contentment. The tension in his body releases for the first time in days. You have one hand resting on his back, holding close to you. The other is smoothing down the errant curls of his hair.

“I’m so proud of you Spence,” you murmur, “I’m so proud of you.”

Emily gets off the elevator and, yeah maybe it’s not such an unusual sight to see you embracing. Unusual for Spencer but after a difficult case like that it’s more than understandable.

No,it’s when he opens his eyes slightly that it clicks for her.

The safety he feels, the warmth, the trust, everything that’s conveyed in his eyes. It’s a look of a man who knows he’s home.

Morgan

You’re pretty sure that everybody on the team at least knows that Morgan has a crush on you.

He’s never really been very subtle about it in all honesty, he’s been incredibly protective of you since you joined, has gone out of his way to make you feel included and make you laugh and just take care of you however he could.

Somehow you were the only person who hadn’t realised how he felt about you.

And when that changed, after a particularly tough case when you leaned into him and he looked at you and you got a little too close and he kissed you and…

Well, after that, you did kind of see what he meant by “Not being sure how much more obvious he could be about it”

It’s after your fourth sleepover together that he says it, “Wanna ride into work together?”

“And people will think we’re coming in together becaaaause?”

Baby, everybody knows I’m crazy about you.”

“Yeah they know you’re crazy about me, I think I’ve done a little bit better a job keeping myself together.

He rolls his eyes, he knows you’re right and it equal parts irritates and impresses him that you’re the youngest of them all, have the least experience, and somehow have managed to act like nothing has even changed between you the past few weeks.

Even though it has, by a lot.

“Come on, please?”

You have to give in to him then because he looks at you so softly and with so much love. And you do want to put him out of his misery of having everybody at work thinking he’s pining for someone who doesn’t have any idea about it.

It’s just fun seeing how frustrated he gets at how well you’ve kept it together.

Luckily it’s just a day of being stuck at the office with paperwork, you only got back from a case two days ago and the serial killers of America seem to be allowing you one kindness.

Morgan has his arm around you from the moment you hop out of the car.

“I thought you wanted to tell the team?”

He chuckles, kissing the top of your head, “I want to tell everybody.”

But he’s happy, he’s smiling. So you let him steer you inside, with his arm around you. He greets absolutely everybody you pass whose name he knows, and one guy whose name you don’t know but he claims ‘either works in homicide or sex crimes and definitely spends way too long staring at your ass whenever he drops by.’

Emily, Rossi, and Spencer are all sat at their desks when you come in.

“Good morning,” He greets loudly, making sure to get their attention.

“Morgan!” You chastise him.

Emily grins when she looks up and spots you, “Well look who finally made his move.”

“Two weeks ago actually,” he corrects, “I just wasn’t allowed to show it off before now.”

“Even better, Hotch owes me 20 bucks.”

Emily

Neither you nor Emily are out at work. And that’s fine. Really, you like it better that the rest of the team doesn’t know this aspect of your business. If anything, it makes it easier. You two can head home from a night at the bar together, or share a hotel room, or grab breakfast together in the mornings without raising any suspicion at all. Heteronormativity has very few perks, but you’re willing to admit that’s one of them.

It’s a Saturday, J.J and Garcia are off out for drinks. They tried to convince you to go to girls night but this was a Saturday night off. You had your own girls night planned.

You told them you were busy with an old friend, and Emily said she had a date (technically hers wasn’t a lie).

Dinner and wine quickly evolved into kissing on the couch though.

“You’re so pretty,” she mumbles against your lips.

“You’re prettier,” you correct her.

Your hands tangle themselves in her hair, she shifts so that she’s basically sat on your lap. The kisses are more urgent now, deeper, passionate. Her hand is on the small of your back, pulling you closer to her.

And then you hear it.

“Emily we know you’re home! The lights are on! Come and drink with us!” Comes the shout of Penelope, from the front door.

“Yeah Emily, we have tequila!” J.J slurs in support.

Naturally, being semi-tipsy adult women, you decide the best plan is for you to hide. So you creep up the stairs, deciding the spare bedroom is the safest, hiding behind the door.

Emily answers, meaning to get rid of them but before she can even react, Garcia is on her. Arms flung around her while she wails drunkenly about how happy she is that Emily’s back from her date.

“Wait! Where is he! You have sex hair!” Garcia, annoyingly observant even when hammered, notes.

Emily’s so busy being smothered in Garcia’s hugs that she doesn’t even notice J.J making her way up the stairs.

And that’s how you come face to face with her.

“_____!” she exclaims, “Wait, why are you here? This isn’t the bathroom. Garcia, ____’s here!”

And there’s no real way to explain your way out of that one. Not between Emily’s tousled hair and the fact you are hidden away upstairs. You fabricate some excuse about coming over after Emily’s date and how you’d been planning to call them to ask them to join. They’re just drunk enough, and polite enough, that they don’t press it. You know they know.

Neither of you are really too bothered that they know. Half the reason you hadn’t bothered telling them was dealing with a whole sideshow about it.

And if thinking you really don’t want them knowing stops that from happening? Well, you can both live with that.

#spencer reid fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfic #reid x reader #hotch x reader #derek morgan fanfic #morgan x reader #spencer reid x reader #aaron hotch x reader #derek morgan x reader #hotchner x reader #criminal minds imagine #imagine criminal minds #criminal minds x you #imagine spencer reid #imagine aaron hotchner #imagine derek morgan #emily prentiss x reader #prentiss x reader #imagine emily prentiss

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sincerelynamkook · 4 years

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Glock

Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Smut 🔥 Mayhaps a smidge of angst 💔

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: gun play, oral, bondage

Playlist: "She Luvin It” by Jimmy Brown // “Besame” by Camila

A/N: I wrote this one a while ago and it’s probably what started my mafia AU obsession lmao. Enjoy!

“Sir she tried to escape again.” The young man says as he walks into the office. Hoseok stands from his chair and walks over to the window facing the woods, arms crossed with disappointment etched on his face.

“I’ve abided by every single one of her requests. I’ve gone out of my way to make sure she’s safe and taken care of. Is this how she repays me?” He growls to his capo.

“With all due respect, I think you’ve spoiled her too much and this has made her forget she’s your prisoner.”

Hoseok hums in agreement. “Perhaps you’re right. Seems I need to remind her how things are done here.” He walks back to his desk and opens the middle drawer where he takes out a single silver key along with his glock. He places the glock in his holster and starts to walk out the office, his capo following him.

“Cuff her and bring her to the range. Let the soldiers know I don’t need them out there right now and turn its surveillance off.” He commands as he walks along the long hallway of his castle and heads to the back of the house where he has his own gun range for his clan to practice in. But tonight he’ll be doing other types of practice.

The capo follows orders and walkies the soldiers guarding her room to cuff her and bring her outside. “Make sure she’s wearing emerald green. He’s in a mood tonight.” His tone of voice makes the soldiers aware of the situation, weary of what will happen to the girl but they follow the orders nonetheless.

She protests as they walk inside her room with the cuffs out, ready to be placed around her wrists. She begs them not to take her to him. Pleads with tears in her eyes as she tries to push them away, but she is no match for their strength.

Giving up, she allows them to each grab one of her arms as they lead her outside. Head bowed to the ground she prays to any god that will listen to her pleas. “Please stop” she softly whispers.

Hoseok hears their footsteps behind him. Turning around to face them he begins to roll the sleeves of his white button-up shirt, removes his tie and unbuttons the top two buttons.

“Leave.” He says to the soldiers after they’ve gotten the girl to kneel on the ground.

The breeze makes her shiver, reminding her she’s basically naked under the green satin robe. Her hair flows in the wind, sticking to her glossy lips. Heart stopping when she feels his hands move the hair away from her face. She hates him, but her body feels differently.

He stands in front of her, the low sun behind him casting a glow around him adding a majestic look to his already dominant energy. His hair is swept to the side with fresh undercut peeking through the disheveled strands of hair. His eyebrows are furrowed, lips pursed together in anger or disappointment. One thing is for sure, he’s not happy.

“Why?” He asks her as he looks down at her from where he stands. He’s shaking in rage from her actions but also rage from him not understanding why he’s starting to feel the way he feels about her. Those deeper feelings weren’t part of the plan.

“What do you mean why? I’m a PRISONER here.” She yells with anger. Her chest rises with her every breath, adrenaline coursing through her veins.

“So you do know you’re a prisoner.” He leans back as he crosses his arms. His biceps flexing, making the shirt tighten on his arms. She swallows and curses at herself for noticing.

“Of course I know. Every second that I can’t speak to my family, friends, or do whatever the fuck I feel like is a reminder to that.”

“I’ve given you everything you’ve asked for. I’ve treated you better than I treat my people. I’ve given you more than I’ve ever given anyone before and you dare to treat me this way?!”

She jumps hearing his voice rise in volume, realizing what he says is true. He’s met every single of her demands and then some, but what he doesn’t know is that he takes a little piece of her heart every time he does what she asks him to do. She needs to leave this place before he ends up owning her entirely.

He sees her close her eyes as she takes a deep breath, giving him time to admire her otherworldly beauty. The sun makes her glow, making her seem likes she is not real, making her seem like the innocent pure soul she is. His heart wrenches in slight pain when he realizes he is tainting her with his darkness.

“I think I need to remind you who you are to me.” He says as he reaches behind his back to grab his glock.

He points it at her and her world stops. He wouldn’t, would he? She thinks back to all the moments they’ve shared in private, all the whispered nothings he’s said to her, his soft touches, the way he looks at her when he thinks she’s not paying attention.

What they both don’t realize, is that he too is giving her his heart piece by piece.

“What are you doing?” She whispers as he takes a step closer to her.

He places the tip of the gun on her forehead, leaving it there for a few seconds until he hears her take a deep breath. He moves the gun along her face slowly without any pressure. His eyes following the movements. Her eyes are still closed, mouth slightly open as her breaths quicken in fear. Her lips glisten as the tip of the gun touches them.

“Show me what your smart mouth can do.” He commands. Her eyes open in surprise, mouth opening a little more as she gasps. He takes the opportunity to push the glock in her mouth.

Accepting the challenge, she makes eye contact with him as she starts to work her tongue around the glock as he moves it in and out.

She brings her cuffed hands up to hold the glock in place. Her dainty hands covering his strong ones. He feels himself harden even more at the touch, imagining her doing what she’s doing to the glock to his dick.

She pushes his hands away from her and he allows her to remove the glock out of her mouth. She brings the glock back towards her face but sticks her tongue out and begins to lick upwards, starting from where his fingers hold the handle all the way to the tip, never breaking eye contact with him.

His dick twitched when he felt her tongue touch his fingers for a slight moment. He’s starting to lose his patience, wanting to feel the warmth of her mouth on his cock, the feel of her lips sucking on his skin.

He feels her hands leave his only to feel her start to unbuckle his belt. He throws the glock behind him, freeing his hands to assist her.

They quickly make work of his pants and underwear, pushing them down his thighs far enough for his dick to spring free from the restraints. His veins screaming for her tongue.

She sucks him into her mouth with no warning, bobbing up and down as she fists her still cuffed hands around the base. The clanking of the cuffs reminding him she’s his, thus adding to his pleasure.

She licks along his dick, showing more love to his veins, knowing that’s his weakness. She places him back in his mouth, making sure his dick touches the back of her throat making her gag. His guttural moan letting her know he’s close to reaching his peak. She continues to explore his dick with her mouth, massaging his balls with her hands. His breathing has quickened, hair a disheveled mess as he rakes his fingers through it. His forehead now in full display. Eyebrows furrowed, mouth open in pleasure. The now shining moon casting a shadow along his jawline, emphasizing his sculpted face.

She feels herself drenched, wanting to reach her own pleasure. She hears his soft words in between his moans, “Baby, please, I’m close” he says as he looks down at her, pure pleasure etched on his face.

She gives him one last stroke with her tongue before sucking him one last time. She feels him come inside her mouth, dick twitching as he releases his full orgasm. She swallows, drinking him all in.

He removes himself from her mouth, taking deep breaths as he comes down from his high. He sees her lick her lips, swallowing the last of his cum. She wipes her lips with her thumb, smiling softly at him, forgetting for a moment that she’s his prisoner.

He stares at her for a few seconds before he remembers the point of this situation he caused himself to be in. She notices his realization when he hardens his expression and starts to put himself back together, all the while she’s still kneeling on the ground. She shivers once more, feeling dirty and used. He walks where he threw his glock and picks it up, placing it back in its holster.

He takes out his phone from his pants pockets and dials his soldiers.

“You can come get her.” He says as he makes eye contact with her. Instead of the warmth she’s used to receiving from him, all she feels is ice. They stare at each other, trying to tell each other their feelings without words, neither deciphering each other’s feelings.

He sees a tear fall down her face, breaking a piece of his heart knowing he’s causing her pain. He turns away from her and starts to walk back to the house, leaving her alone in the dark.

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philliamwrites · 3 years

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The Dawn Will Come [Chpt.3]

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Pairing: Dimitri x Reader, Claude x Reader, Edelgard x Reader, Yuri x Reader, Edelgard x Byleth, lots of minor pairings

Tags: #gn reader, # platonic love byleth & reader, #reader is a tactical unit, #angst, #slow burn, #subplots, #unreliable narrator, #pining, #remporary amnesia, #reluctant herp, #canon divergence, #lost twin au, #many chapters, #original content

Words: 7.7k

Summary: Waking up in a forest without any knowledge of your past and who you are, you join the house leaders of the Officers Academy to search for a way to return your memories. Unfortunately, the church has different plans for you, and Fate places you in the centre of a cruel game with deadly stakes. It certainly doesn’t help to fall in love with a house leader who is doomed to be your demise.

Notes: Chapter 2 | Chapter 4

Chapter 03: Ties That Bind

Where war, and joy, and terror Have all at times held away; Where both delight and horror Have had their fitful day.

The happiest under heaven A king of powerful mind; A company so proven Would now be hard to find

Gawain put on a good cheer. ‘Why should I hesitate?’ He said. ‘Kind or severe, We must engage our Fate.’

[Sir Gawain and the Green Knight]

„Breathe,“ Hanneman says for the third time. At every tap of his pen against the table, you flinch as if someone is knocking right against the inside of your skull. “You have to feel the Crest, become one with it. Don’t think of it as an addition; see it as an extension of your very self.”

You exhale but it’s hard to focus after you’ve been sitting in the same position for nearly two hours and your legs keep falling asleep.

“Focus on it,” Hanneman continues. He starts to gesture with his free hand, an indicator that he’s just as frustrated with your lack of progress as you are. “Focus on the feeling that took hold of you when you fought the bandits. Imagine what you want. Ask yourself what it is you really want, and take hold of that picture.”

Well, first of all, you really want a sandwich.

For the past few weeks, you’ve been waking up before sunrise to attend private lessons with Hanneman to get a hold of your Crest’s power. Now the end of the month approaches, and still your body refuses to get accustomed to work at such an early hour, and more importantly without eating first. An hour ago, your stomach started growling, but Professor Hanneman has proved again and again to be very successful in ignoring factors that disturb his lessons. You continue breathing through what you consider hunger pains instead of the raise of new powers, but with the sound of screaming students outside and the occasional flapping of wings as Pegasus Knights fly by on their patrol, it’s anything but successful.

“Focus!” Hanneman chides again as if he can read your mind and knows exactly you’re thinking of the pheasant roast with berry sauce on the menu today.

“I’m trying,” you groan and slump into the chair, defeated. “But I don’t feel anything.”

“Hmm hmmm,” Hanneman hums and looks at you like you were supposed to understand what he’s conveying with that sound. “Maybe we’re looking at it the wrong way,” he says once you don’t follow up on his inexplicable sound. “Maybe we should stop thinking of it as a common Crest, but approach it like it is something entirely different.” He quickly notes something on his paper, then proceeds to flip through the open books he’s splayed out on his desk. “There is so little we know about the Crest of the Herald. I am much frustrated no one thought of studying it a thousand years ago!”

“I don’t understand. How can it be different?” Your first lesson solely focused on Crests. How they are thought to be power incarnate, bestowed upon humans by the Goddess countless ages ago. Today those who are descendants of Fódlan’s Ten Elites and Four Saints, who fought during the War of Heroes beside Saint Seiros, wear Crests, a sign of wealth and nobility.

“Well, one possible explanation could be that for whatever reason, the first Herald was different from his fellow warriors, the Ten Elites,” Hanneman offers, leaning back into his chair and looking a lot more interested in the conversation now. “The Goddess must have found him worthy of her power just as she found Saint Seiros worthy.”

“Then why wasn’t he a Saint?” you wonder. From your understanding, the Four Saints were special comrades of Saint Seiros, just as guided by the Goddess as their leader. What had made the Herald from back then different? “According to everything you told me, he sounds a lot like this Macuil person. Focusing on strategy and all that.”

“Saint Macuil,” Hanneman corrects you, but there’s no bite in his voice. “And yes, perhaps he was akin to the Saints, but that clearly wasn’t what determined the final decision to name him Herald.”

“Well, that’s just my kind of luck,” you mumble, but when Hanneman makes a puzzled sound, you ask instead, “And you’re sure I’m a descendant of him?”

“Most likely! You bear a Major Crest, which means the Herald’s blood runs strong in your body. After he disappeared, he might have settled down and started a family. Unfortunately, nothing is recorded about him after the War of Heroes concluded.”

“Then how come there was no one else in a thousand years who bore the same Crest?” You aren’t sure you fully understand how they work. Apparently, Crests grant special powers to those who hold them such as high aptitude for magic or enhanced strength. But you know better than anyone that the Crest of the Herald is special. It doesn’t simply give you a boon, it allows you to command the flow of battle. But is it really a blessing bestowed by the Goddess? You don’t remember a divine revelation or talking to a Goddess. Or did that maybe occur even before you were found by the Officers Academy’s students? Before your memory loss? You certainly don’t feel chosen by a deity.

“Trying to explain the Goddess’ whims would wield about the same result as asking this question,” Hanneman says. “Sometimes a Crest may skip generations. No one can say with certainty who will be chosen. If it will be the first or third born. That is why we must further study Crests! For example, why, unlike other Crests, has your appeared physically visible?” Hanneman mutters more questions under his breath and notes them quickly on his paper. It’s remarkable how enthusiastic he approaches the topic if it only didn’t make you feel like an experiment lying on a dissection table.

“I want to know so much more about the first Herald,” you mumble. “What was his name? Where was he from?” Why did he disappear and what were the costs he had paid for such a title. Only one month in and Lady Rhea already granted you an impressive room to reside. People treat you with respect and admiration even though you aren’t doing much besides wave at them on the streets or hold some conversations. If being the Herald only encompasses these tasks, you’ll gladly take on the role and speak to people. But that would be a dream too good to be true.

“We can only speculate,” Hanneman says. “Some believe the Herald came when Seiros needed him most. Our Goddess’ answer to her cry of help. Others believe he was simply a general who originated form a farmer’s family. Other, smaller sources talk about a prince from a far off land who passed through Fódlan and decided to stay. But in all cases, the Herald was a great asset to win the War of Heroes and save Fódlan from the tyranny of the Fell King.”

“Yeah, no pressure there,” you mumble, sinking further into your seat. Hopefully no one expects you to save Fódlan from evil monarchs. If yes, it certainly won’t happen on an empty stomach. When Hanneman releases you, there’s only one place for you to be. The Dining Hall is crowded at this time of hour. Students and faculty bustle everywhere, eager to get their favourite meal on a plate. Just like them, you are drawn in by the amazing smell of roasted meet and freshly baked pastries.

The only thing you can live without is how once you enter the room several heads turn in your direction, and a ripple of “Look, it’s the Herald” goes through the crowd, spreading like a wave. Or a disease, you think with a sour taste in your mouth as you move through the parting sea. They want you to acknowledge them but Goddess forbid you actually engage in conversation with them and they flee like you’re the Herald of Pest.

“Herald!” Well, not everyone escapes. Some seem to like living dangerous.

Edelgard looks straight at you from between the other students from the Eagle class sitting at a table, removing any doubt she means anyone else but you. Running from her would be a sign of defeat, so you drag yourself over to the Eagle table and give the round an uncertain smile. “Hello.”

“Herald, if you have time, please sit with us,” Edelgard offers but the look she pins on you doesn't give you any choice. The silence of her classmates speaks louder than words, and a quick glance to Hubert tells you that he very much would like for you to notsit with them.

“Sure,” you say lamely and sit opposite from her where Bernadetta quickly shuffles to the side to make room, and then further down the bench until she jumps to her feet and flees from the hall. It’s a miracle she’s out of her chambers in the first place, undoubtedly Byleth’s work.

“Did you manage any progress with Professor Hanneman?” Edelgard asks, carefully cutting her pheasant roast into small bite-sized pieces. She looks the complete opposite from someone capable of hacking away their enemies but you wouldn’t dare to underestimate her.

“It’s slow,” you admit, solely focusing on shoving potatoes from one side of your plate to the other so you don’t have to look at anyone. “I’ve only grasped the basics of how Crests work and the Herald’s is so different.”

“Research might prove more fruitful if you’d be called into action,” she says, and it’s difficult to determine if that statement is a simple observation or underlying critique towards Rhea’s decision to leave you out of the major education system. At least that’s something you’re sure of. Edelgard is difficult.

“Maybe. But chances are higher I get myself killed somehow on the battlefield.” You’re already dreading the approaching noon hours. Byleth has worked out a special training programme for you and the house leaders. So far there hasn’t been a day without aching muscles and bruises for you. Thinking of Byleth, you can’t help but ask, “So how’s Byleth as a Professor?”

Edelgard considers her plate with mild interest, but her index fingers start tapping against her cutlery. She has small, delicate hands. Cute hands. You gawk at them for two seconds before noticing Hubert starring daggers at you, and quickly avert your eyes to your cup of ginger tea like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Our professor shows knowledge in the most curious things,” he says, surprising you by joining the conversation. “I think the Adrestian Empire will benefit greatly from that.”

You aren’t sure how leading the class correlates directly to joining the Empire, but you don’t want to point that out. Hubert is still too much of a puzzle you’re adamant on not piecing together because whatever picture waits for you after the assembly might be one of horror.

“She really is one to look up to,” Edelgard agrees, but she isn’t looking at anyone, so it seems she’s saying it more to herself. You want to try and read more out of her expression, but distraction comes quickly in form of more students from the Eagle class. Caspar is the first bouncing excitedly towards the table, and still he somehow miraculously manages to keep his food from flying everywhere. “Herald!” he calls and slides right on the seat right next to you. “How’s the head situation going?”

“Caspar,” Linhardt chides and gives his friend the disappointed look of a parent that can’t bring his child to use a fork to eat. “Would you stop pestering the Herald with the same question every day?”

Linhardt hits the mark. It was nice in the beginning to have someone show so much interest in your wellbeing, but now you don’t know if the daily reminder how you fail to regain pieces of your past is rude or just Caspar’s naive politeness.

“Yeah well.” You try to stuff as much potatoes in your mouth as possible just to avoid talking about it. “Nothin’ yeff.”

“Herald, please try to keep your manners in check, will you?” Ferdinand comments because of course he catches you with your mouth full and sauce dripping from the corners. Unlucky for him, you don’t really care.

“Well, sorry.” Caspar frowns and scratches the remains from his plate. The two minutes you needed to finish your potatoes, he’s cleared his whole plate. “I just thought it might help.”

“Help to be reminded what’s missing?” Linhardt doesn’t look convinced. “I think the Herald knows so better than anyone.”

“Guys, drop the subject,” Edelgard intervenes. “Let us finish our meals now. Classes resume presently and I don’t want to hear any stomachs growling, understood?” The last part goes with a pointed look towards Linhardt, who answers with a lazy shrug while continuing to poke at his food, looking bored out of his mind. It lasts about three seconds before he brightens up and turns towards you while rummaging through his school bag. From that, he pulls out notes and a pen, and unceremoniously shoves them into your hands. “I have a question, Herald. Would you be so kind and look over these strategic proposals I’ve developed from the last lesson? I understand what you taught us were basics as we find them in the library. I simply took the time and applied those to the strengths and abilities of my classmates.”

You raise your eyebrows. “You did?” Up until now, you didn’t know Linhardt was paying attention whenever you gave the students your sorry excuses of lessons. You feel like you’ve seen him asleep far more than actually looking at the board or writing, so him presenting his notes to you now is more than a surprise. He has a clean handwriting, small letters that curl into themselves and forget to take a break between words. You squint at the sentences, trying to make them out. It sure doesn’t help that half of it is crossed out by what looks like a strategy sketch with little circles and everyone’s names filling out the space.

“This looks … elaborate,” you comment, unsure if you’ll ever be able to solve this enigma.

“No worries.” Linhardt gives a little smile. “Please give me your answer report until tomorrow. And feel free to correct me on anything I’ve done wrong.”

He’s probably done a much better job than you on your lesson notes, but you nod with a lopsided smile. “I will.”

“Oh, and while we’re at strategy talk,” Caspar jumps right in, “any good ideas how to take on a taller opponent?”

“A good kick to their shins?” you suggest.

“A dagger to their liver?” Edelgard says.

“Poison in their cup?” Hubert offers.

“You’re all animals,” Ferdinand says.

Linhardt groans. “I toldyou how to win in a fight like that, Caspar. Why won’t you listen to me?”

You don’t want to be part of the argument breaking out between them, so you turn away and try to see what the other students are doing in the dining hall. At the opposite end, Claude catches your eyes and waves like he’s been waiting way too long to finally get your attention. He points at Edelgard and flaps his arms like a chicken. He points at you and spreads his hands behind his head, forming antlers with his fingers. When Edelgard follows your eyes, his head whips around and he pretends to agree with whatever Lysithea just said.

“I hope you forgive Caspar’s enquiries,” she says, steering your focus back to her. She’s gently tapping the corners of her mouth with an embroidered napkin, and oh there they are again, her delicate fingers. You look away before Hubert catches you staring again and decides to put poison in your cup7. “I speak on behalf of everyone in the Black Eagle House when I say we wish for your full recovery to be soon.”

“If wishing would only get the job done, I might have something to work with by now.”

Edelgard doesn’t blink, her expression frozen. “Meaning?”

“I thought I'd come here and one of the Church's healers would just wave their hands to return my memories,” you mumble, scribbling a tiny Claude with little, evil horns on his head in the corner of Linhardt’s notes.

Edelgard looks at you like you've just insulted her whole noble lineage. “That isn't how magic works.”

You throw your arms up in frustration to emphasise that yes, that's the point. You don't know how anything works in this place, and you doubt Byleth's four pages of lesson plans are going to help.

“If no one comes to your aid, maybe it is time you take matters into your own hands.” You flinch at the scornful sound in Edelgard’s voice. Judging the expression on her face, she seems just as surprised about her outburst. She gets up abruptly and bids farewell with a curt nod, followed closely by Hubert as always. Her classmates look after her, each more puzzled than the next.

“Didn’t she seem … angry to you?” Linhardt thinks aloud, blinking into the empty space.

Ferdinand harrumphes. “She’s always like this. Please excuse her, Herald.”

You don’t think she’s done anything wrong, and yet she certainly doesn’t appear as always. Something about her last words strikes you as especially sharp; reproachful. Those weren’t meaningless words, but you don’t have any ways to decipher the message. A little voice tells you she isn’t wrong either. So far nothing has helped returning your memories—Manuela’s medicine, herbs from the Greenhouse, Hanneman’s spells. It seems like your brain has built defencive walls to repel any probing, which begs the answer to the question what is hiding in secret even more. But can you really do it on your own, like Edelgard suggests? It seems impossible.

With newfound doubt you finish your meal, saying your goodbyes to the now scattering Eagle students as they scurry off to their next lesson. Two hours are left before you’re meeting with Byleth and the house leaders, and since you agreed to look over Linhardt’s notes, the library seems a good next stop. You still want to go over the seven classical manoeuvres of war, especially since the students didn’t really grasp the remaining two last time, and it gives you a good excuse to look over them again as well. At the beginning, you thought there was nothing you could teach those children, not with experienced colleagues at your side who have participated in countless battles themselves. Who could have thought that talking about tactics and strategies came as natural to you as breathing. Well, Rhea did for certain, and even the students drink up your every word like it is a message from the Goddess herself and you her chosen herald. The irony of it.

But it isn’t only the students accepting your guidance. Something inside you changed in the last couple of weeks as well. When you started going through the books in the library, it was more stumbling and slipping on foreign terrain, but just in a couple of days, you moved through the matter like a fish following smoothly the currents of its native waters. It felt like home. Like building the foundation of a house from thousand variables, the result different each time but still the same: art. You build the art of battle, the last decision that will bring victory or death. You love every second of it. Which opens the possibility that it really isn’t your first time, but also more questions: Who taught you? What battles have you fought? How many of them did you win? Since those aren’t as simple to answer, you focus on fulfilling the first purpose, and hope that it will some day be enough for the students to survive battles.

If only it would end there. Your second duty isn’t as easy or pleasant, and it lies in wait for you everywhere, stalking you like a dark shadow with monstrous fangs.

“Herald.” A soldier gives a courteous bow, intercepting you in the Great Hall on your way to the library. “Pilgrims ask for you near the Entrance Hall. Please allow me to escort you.”

Immediately, your nerves tingle with nervous anticipation. This is the scary part. Meeting the people, seeing the hope in their eyes. You’d gladly send them back where they’ve come from, but some have travelled for multiple days, and denying them audience would be cruel.

“Don’t let me stop you from your duties,” you say, unconsciously tugging your clothes in order to appear presentable. “I will welcome them on my own.”

The soldier nods and bows again, his expression barely readable under the helmet before he disappears as quickly as he came.

Planning lessons is easy. You can find whatever you need in the library and work out the flow with the students. But nothing can prepare or teach you how to act like the Herald people wish for. Nowhere is anything written on the old Herald, how he talked to them and what promises he’d whispered when day broke. That is where you are on your own. Not even Rhea could answer that question. She only instructed that you see them, and remind them about their devotion to the Goddess—for she was the one who made it possible in the first place.

The Entrance Hall is emptier than usual. Most of the students are in class, and a handful of knights and soldiers might be at the advanced training camp Jeralt and Alois hold in honour of the Blade Breaker’s return. So spotting the pilgrims isn’t difficult. Especially with the Gatekeeper waving his arms in wide arcs as if fearing you might overlook him.

“Greetings, Herald!” His grin is blinding. “The pilgrims are waiting for you just at the at the foot of the stairs.”

“Yeah,” you say. “I can see them.”

“Oh, yes, of course! If anyone causes problems, count on me to help!”

“Thanks.” You answer his thumbs up with one of your own before moving downstairs. What a refreshing young man. Certainly good looking under his helmet. Byleth seems to like talking to him a lot as well.

Today’s pilgrims aren’t much different from other days. Old people are supported by their family members, who have brought baskets with sweets and flowers, presenting them at your feet.

“Herald,” they breathe in awe, bowing. No matter how often you’ve seen it by now, it still feels incredibly wrong.

“Raise your heads,” you tell them, helping an elderly woman up to hrer feet. She gasps at your touch, then clings to your hands. You try to swallow past the lump in your throat. “The Archbishop and I bid you welcome. The Goddess will smile upon your devotion.” Your cringe slightly when echoing Rhea’s words and wonder if any second the goddess might punish you by throwing lightning your way.

“We are blessed to finally meet you,” a younger woman says, taking the old woman from your hands—mother and daughter maybe? “Please accept our gifts, and may the Goddess guide you on your path to light.”

“She will answer your prayers and guide me so I can bring you peace,” you reply just so you can say something they might want to hear. Judging their delighted expressions this wasn’t the worst you could have said. Dorothea would probably be proud looking at your acting skills. Or point out your bad posture and how you’re avoiding their eyes. Dorothea would probably tell you how much you have to polish your acting skills.

“Bring us peace?” someone from the last row spits, pushing to the front. “You know nothing, the Herald will bring chaos and ruin!” A man in his forties looms above you, an ugly, padded scar crossing his face from one temple to his chin. A war veteran? They way he holds himself looks like he’s been beaten up once too much to get up again.

“You heathen, don’t you dare speak to our Herald like that,” the old woman barks, immediately doubling over in a coughing fit. Her daughter supports her, glaring at the man. “Go in peace, but go if you only came to talk ill about our Herald,” she says, clearly upset. "Doubting them is doubting our Goddess. How dare you."

“First I want to see the Herald do something! What if … if this one is an impostor.” The man turns towards the others, throwing his arms in the air. “Bring forward proof that you are not here to ruin our lands, but to actually serve in the Goddess’ name!”

This time his demand meets less resistance. Until now people were fine with seeing you and the Crest, but to want actual prove? You could easily threaten them and ask if they doubt the Goddess’ decision, but you’d rather leave that method to Rhea. You don’t want to sound like her. You don’t want to scare people. Yet admitting that you don’t really have a clue how to really use the Crest would surely support the man’s accusation. Diminishing the people’s trust in the Herald is the last thing you want, especially if it means facing Rhea’s scorn.

“I—”

“Herald!” A voice calls from the top of the stairs. When you turn around, Sylvain waves and jogs downstairs, looking like he’s been running for some time. “There you are. The Archbishop wants to see you.”

Oh no, has she heard of your failure already? Giving the choice of facing a group of doubting people or Rhea, you’d immediately go to the people. You give him a curt nod, unable to speak because you don’t trust your voice.

“I apologise,” you say to the pilgrims, clearing your throat when it comes out as a croak. “I will have something prepared for another time.”

“No, you do not need to prove anything to us,” the elderly woman says. “We will always believe in you. Please tell Her Grace we are constantly praying to our Goddess and thank her for sending you to us.”

“I will.” You squeeze her hand a last time. “Save travels.”

The man still glares at you, but without a chance to keep you present any longer, he turns away and follows the rest. You can’t wait to leave all that behind, and as you steel your nerves for what’s waiting for you in the Audience Chambers, you look up to Sylvain and ask, “Did Lady Rhea say what it is about?”

He looks over at you and blinks a couple of times, then seems to remember. “Ah ... yeah, about that. I lied.”

You stop dead in your tracks. “You lied?”

“Yup. I don’t know what Lady Rhea’s doing. But you looked like you were about to puke at those poor pilgrim’s shoes. As hilarious as that would have been, I wanted to spare you the embarrassment.” He stops now as well and smiles a boyish crooked grin. Sylvain knows exactly what to do with his face so girls fall over themselves to do him a favour, and boys grow jealous of all the attention he gets. Two weeks in, and you’ve figured out his game, keeping a respectable distance that wouldn’t birth the thought you’re avoiding him. In fact, this could be the very first time you’re actually holding a real conversation.

“Well, I … thank you? But I had everything under control.”

He looks like he doesn’t believe you. The gatekeeper you’re just passing looks like he doesn’t believe you. You press your lips into a thin line and dare any of them to disagree.

“Okay.” Sylvain shrugs. “But now we’re here.”

“Sylvain, what do you want?”

“Cutting to the chase, huh?” He crosses his arms behind his head. “Why do you think I want something?” Your raised eyebrows seem to be answer enough. Sylvain laughs a little helplessly and returns his hands back to his front, raised as an offer of peace. “I promise, I want nothing. Just a little talking. A little talking hasn’t hurt anyone.”

Something inside you wants to argue against it, but without a solid argument in hand, you follow him silently, wondering where his destination and intention lies. He belongs to the many students you can’t really read, nothing about his ambitions or goals. Sometimes he gives you this strange look through half lidded eyes, his gaze focused on your right eye—his interest in your Crest undeniable, and yet he’s been one of the few not to talk about it with you. It’s strange because whenever you come together, he looks like there’s something he’s dying to say. This time is no different.

He leads you to the wooden pavilion in the gardens, but instead of offering you a seat, Sylvain leans his slim hips against the table, half sitting on it. Seteth would be furious seeing this.

“How’s the Herald business doing for you?” he asks the one question you wouldn't expect from him. “Other than you having ‘everything under control.’” He has the audacity to air-quote. This isn’t a conversation you want to hold right now, leastwise with him. Sylvain must discern that you’re ready to bold from whatever your body is showing. With a quick step, he’s standing between you and the escape route, lazily leaning one arm against a column to uphold the illusion that you’re only having a pleasant talk when in reality his body stands between you and your freedom.

“Do you talk to the other faculty members like that as well?” you say through gritted teeth, crossing your arms. Sylvain blinks like he doesn’t understand, but you’ve seen this act before, followed by an eerily precise repetition of a subject to one of his classmates when he thinks none of the teachers pay attention. Sylvain is playing dumb and deliberately hiding a sharp mind.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to offend,” he quickly says, nothing about this crooked smile appearing apologetic whatsoever. “I’m generously curious. You’re holding up really good.”

“In comparison to what?” you demand, your heartbeat picking up. Is he trying to call you out on something? That you aren’t heraldy enough? But to your surprise, Sylvain looks genuinely surprised by your reaction.

“To nothing. In general?” He shrugs. “Back on the ceremony day, you didn’t look so good standing up there, and His Highness told us everything happened really uh … ‘suddenly.’’ More air-quotes, whatever they mean this time.

“If you mean I wasn’t really asked to become the Herald, then yes.” Your arms drop back to your side. “It was suddenly.”

Sylvain watches you for a moment, and again, there’s this look in his eyes; the need to say something he can’t. He kneads the back of his nape, avoiding your eyes. “All I’m trying to say is … having that Crest out of nothing is cool. Probably. And maybe terrifying? And just—”

You grow impatient. “Come on, get the words out, Sylvain.”

“A Crest isn’t just this nice letter of invitation to a privileged life. Just take care, is all I’m saying.”

And there’s another page to the book of surprises with Sylvain’s name on it. The immediate lack of response catches him off guard; it’s like he only notices now that the vital part to understand this conversation is missing: The source of his doubt towards Crests.

Sylvain’s body turns in a split second, his feet facing the direction he’s ready to bold towards, but this time you stand in his way and block him off. “Sylvain, are you okay?”

He blinks in confusion, then furrows his eyebrows in deep thought like you demanded he recites the Ten Heroes from memory or else fails classes. His face contorts with the effort of looking fine. “Why, yes! Just peachy. Why would you think something is off?”

“Because I have eyes in my skull.”

“Very pretty eyes, if I dare say.” His answer comes out like a fire spell, hard and fast, seemingly more instinct than anything else. He clears his throat and scratches his chin, loosing momentum. “Goddess, I am bad at this.”

“You are.” No need to sugar coat it. “If something happened, just say it.”

“Nothing really happened, I just—” He exhales audibly and stares into space for a long minute, before side stepping you without difficulty. “Actually, I remembered Professor wanted to see me after class. Something about extra lessons about eh. Horse riding. Yeah. I’ll catch you later, Herald.” He winks and bolds away, darting under your outstretched arm before you can catch him. For someone this tall, he’s surprisingly agile and fast, already disappearing behind a tall hedge towards the main building.

If that wasn’t the strangest conversation you’ve held with anyone, you don’t know what might excel that. Maybe it’s time you stop avoiding Sylvain.

The Training Grounds smells of sweat and oil. Many students and knights train, which is surprising at this kind of hour, the short break between afternoon and evening classes. You’d like to know what they’re working on, but Byleth doesn’t tolerate inattention in a classroom or on the battle field, and demands you do push-ups each time your eyes wander somewhere off. You hate her a little for that. For whatever reason, Claude has taken on the role of your partner in crime, and does whatever necessary to make Byleth punish him as well.

“What can I say, I like a good workout,” he said when you asked. He didn’t even try to hide his lie, looking as miserable as you felt. Probably hating Byleth a little as well.

It’s the fourth week of private training with her and the house leaders, and so far you can definitely say that you were not meant to fight on the field. You see how your opponent moves, you can somehow predict what they’re going to do next—but your body simply protests to act accordingly. You stumble, you fall, you need a second too long to get up and before you can do anything, a training sword is at your throat. Byleth always looks like she wants to facepalm her fist through her forehead. Or yours.

“Herald, this is not how you disarm someone,” she says, as always, and demonstrates it in one smooth, swift movement, as always. You blow hair out of your eyes, knowing you’re about to fail again. At least that gave Claude a reason to give you a new nickname, though if it’s better than the last is debatable.

“You gotta twist your wrist, duckling!” he calls from the other side of the hall, immediately drawing Byleth’s attention to him. He and Dimitri are facing off, both wielding a spear which should give Dimitri the upper hand. So far, he hasn’t landed a single hit on Claude.

“Keep your elbows in!” Byleth berates Claude. “Stop flapping them like some kind of chicken.”

Claude lets out a disturbingly convincing cluck.

You raise an eyebrow. “At least someone’s having fun.”

Byleth sighs. “He’s going to get himself killed sooner than later.”

“I don’t know. He’s managed so far, hasn’t he?”

“I’m not sure if it’s a talent or a fault.” She turns back to you and nods her chin towards the side. “Take a break. I’m going to see how the boys are doing.”

You nod, tensing all over because that’s where Edelgard is currently standing and picking out a training axe. You haven’t talked to her since lunch, and you can do without it for a couple more hours. She barely glances at you when you walk over, and instead checks out the edge of the wooden blade, turning it left and right.

“Is she as strict in the classroom as in here?” you ask, unable to go on in awkward silence. Edelgard hums, throwing a quick glance towards Byleth from under her long, white lashes. “She’s systematic and consistent. Capable in both fields. I have no reason to raise any kind of complaint.”

“That’s impressive.” You sure as heck still wouldn’t want her as a teacher. “Even though she’s been pushed into all this, she handles it like she’s never done anything else.”

“I think as a mercenary, she is used to changing approaches depending on the employer.” Edelgard is still looking at Byleth. Reading her expression is impossible, and you don’t want to point out that sticking a sword into thieves and bandits is not the same as teaching kids how to fight in a battle. Her head whips to you suddenly, and she considers the training sword in your hand. “Speaking of different approaches,” she continues, “have you considered that your field of combat might be magic?”

You have, so the answer comes immediately. “Chances are higher I set myself on fire.” You stare at her. “I didn’t mean it to rhyme.”

Edelgard ignores your last comment. “But you haven’t really tried it out, have you?” Your lack of response is answer enough for her, and she nods like that proves a point.

It’s complicated. You haven’t really tried it out because … the simple answer is, you’re afraid. It gets tricky once you try to search for the answer to that. There’s just a strange sensation when you try to use magic, like there’s a vast sea of possibilities and one step inside is enough to get you lost. It isn’t as bad with wind spells or white magic. You haven’t touched Fire spells because a crippling fear chills you to the bones every time you manage to nourish a small flame inside your palm—the complete opposite to Dark magic. When you tried a MiasmaΔ for the first time it felt strangely … secure. The rope tying you to a shore, it had felt like—

There’s a loud crash when the spears collide and Claude knocks Dimitri off his feet. The whole room is silent as everyone watches how Claude taps the blunt end of his practice spear against Dimitri’s chin. “Steady on there, darling,” he says with a smug grin. Dimitri flushes bright red, and pushes with more force than necessary the spear away, quickly climbing to his feet.

“That wasn’t bad.” Byleth quickly steps in before Dimitri can throttle Claude. “Dimitri, you rely too much on your brute strength. That’s a big disadvantage against someone like Claude. And you, young man,” she turns to Claude who’s been smiling victoriously, “are scheming too much and lose time to take action. In a serious battle, you won’t be as lucky as today.”

“Noted.” Claude whirls his spear from left to right, almost dropping it when Dimitri drills his elbow into his side. “But in a serious battle, I won’t be upfront. I’ll be hanging back nicely, and skewing my enemies with a myriad of arrows.”

“You can barely shoot three at the same time,” Dimitri grumbles, his cheeks still splotched with red specks.

“You wanna bet—”

“That’s enough, guys, save it for then next round.” Byleth ignores their sulky expressions and turns to you, raising a single eyebrow. The message is clear. What are you waiting for?

Your feet feel like they’re glued to the ground. Edelgard doesn’t hesitate at all. “Let’s go.”

She strides in the middle, training axe raised. It’s made out of wood, but you don’t doubt that she’s able to severe a limb from your body if she only tries hard enough—and what you know of Edelgard is that she alwaysexceeds even her own expectations. You grip your sword tighter. It’s a clear disadvantage, but better than anything else you can handle. Maybe it won’t be as bad.

The fight lasts for about seven seconds. The moment you raise the blade, Edelgard is on you and unleashes fierce strike after strike, the power behind each hit forcing you back. She doesn’t bat an eyelash when she easily disarms you, the wooden sword flying over your heads and the edge of her axe on your throat. Somewhere behind her, you hear Byleth sigh. “Again.”

The next hour is torture. Edelgard throws you to the ground, again and again. Byleth keeps telling you to get up, again and again. One might think they would cut you some slack, being the Herald and all, but it feels like Edelgard is so much more aggressive today because you’re the Herald. Or maybe it’s personal. Maybe she’s appointed you to be her sworn enemy, and won’t miss out any chance to make it as hard as possible for you.

This isn’t fun. Being watched by Dimitri and Claude, who whisper conspiratorially to each other isn’t fun. Luckily, Byleth notices them gawking and bellows them to focus on working on their stances. Right now, you’re thankful nothing escapes her eyes and she calls her students out on their bullshit. It doesn’t make your current situation easier though. Every muscle burns, just raising the sword is exhausting and your feet feel like they’re about to give out any second. This must be hell.

When Byleth finally ends lessons, you ignore everything and crumble to the ground, splaying your limbs out in all directions. Surely they can clean up without you, two hands less will barely make any difference.

A shadow settles over you. You know who it is, and don’t bother to open your eyes. “Go away, Byleth. I don’t want to hear how bad I am.”

“Personally, I think you have improved, Herald.” Your eyes snap open. Dimitri looks down at you, his forehead still glistening from perspiration. “But facing Edelgard as an opponent usually wields those results. Don’t let it bother you.”

You want to point out that he and Claude don’t seem to have as much problems as you, even though yes, none of them have defeated her yet in practice. He goes down to your level and sits beside you, and you hate how this all barely made him breath hard, like it’s just a stroll around the monastery whereas you’re trying to climb the mountains surrounding it.

“I think she hates me,” you blurt out. Luckily, most students have already left the hall, Edelgard included. Dimitri considers this a moment, and you don’t know what to make of his lack of immediate response.

“I doubt she hates you,” he finally says.

“But?”

“But she has a hard time warming up to people. Give her time. Once the ice is broken, you will see that her personality is one you’d like to have around.”

“Oh?” You watch him for a moment, but Dimitri doesn’t blush or look away. It was a heartfelt, sincere statement, which flusters you for some reason. No one should be that honest.

“Talking about breaking ice. Do you know if something happened to Sylvain?”

“Sylvain?” Dimitri raises both eyebrows. “Please don’t tell me he harassed you in some kind of way.”

“No, no, he just—” You finally get up from lying on your back, and try to explain it by frantically moving your hands. Dimitri still looks puzzled. “He said some weird things about Crests in general?”

“Hm.” Dimitri stares at your hands for a moment, then quickly raises his eyes back to your face. “It’s complicated.” Well, that answer is as good as none. “And I won’t go into details without his consent. I can only say that if he talked about Crests, in whichever way, his brother must have upset him again.”

“He has a brother?” Now you’re wide awake. Many students have siblings. You know of Hilda’s brother and Raphael’s sister. It shouldn’t surprise you Sylvain has one as well even though he’s never mentioned it before.

“Do you have siblings?” you ask, generously curious. As heir to a kingdom, it’s hard to imagine his parents would have settled with one child. But he hasn’t mentioned any sisters or brothers as well.

“Hmm, I have a step-sister,” he says, although very hesitant and you can see if someone doesn’t want to talk about a specific topic. He doesn’t return the question, which is kind of him and makes you wonder … maybe you have a sibling as well. Somewhere. Maybe somewhere in Adrestia or Leicester a younger brother or an older sister is currently looking for you, unrelenting in their journey to be reunited at last. The thought alone brings a flicker of hope alive. Maybe they'll come once word of the Herald’s return travels far enough.

“I guess as long as Sylvain doesn’t disturb classes or acts out of order, I would leave him to his brooding. I can tell out of experience, only Felix is capable of cheering him up.”

“Felix?” Your eyebrows rise to your hairline. “Are we talking about the same Felix?”

A smile forms on Dimitri’s mouth. “I understand why imagining that might prove difficult, but I assure you, Felix is one of the view exceeding in handling the mess Sylvain is from time to time.”

“Felix and Ingrid?” you guess, earning a nod from Dimitri. “Ingrid is a very nice girl,” you continue, picking at a loose thread from your uniform. “But Felix seems detests me. Every time he sees me, he looks like he wants to throw his sword at me.”

“That is—” Dimitri stops mid-sentence. “That might be not so far off from his true intentions.”

You groan.

“But I assure you it is for a different reason than you think. Felix is simply … difficult with people holding a commanding position.”

“He doesn’t seem to have the same problem with Byleth,” you point out. No, whenever he trains with her, he manages something close to a smile and accepts her guidance. Then again, she isn’t his teacher.

“I’m sure you’ll be able to make him consider his opinion on you during the Mock Battle. I as well am looking forward to how you will guide us.” Dimitri beams. You stare at him like he’s just lost his head.

“What?”

“The Mock Battle three nights from today?” Dimitri’s smile falters a little. “Have the Professor and Lady Rhea not told you yet? You are to participate in the Mock Battle as the commanding unit of the Blue Lions.” Now he’s pulling his eyebrows together in worry. “Herald?”

“I—” You jump to your feet. “I have to go.” Go far far away. Just yesterday you introduced the students to the tactic called Feigned Withdrawal, which involves staging a retreat in order to induce the enemy to abandon its position and plunge ahead in an attack. Dimitri abandons his position, getting up to go after you, but instead of turning back to surprise him with an ambush, you flee the battle and hope the enemy doesn’t pursue.

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alittlewhump · 3 years

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Unbidden - Act 3, chapter 8

Masterlist | Previous | Next

Content warnings: minor body horror

As directed, Morgan took his time. It gave him the opportunity to start getting used to controlling the golem. Blaise watched quietly as he ran through some exercises with both arms, working out the mental shortcuts he would need to get used to. Large motions involving the shoulder were the hardest to manage, having to coordinate the golem with the organic. He also had to concentrate harder than he'd expected on the elbow. There was a greater range of motion at his disposal now, but taking advantage of it made him feel nauseated. Bodies weren't meant to bend in certain ways, and it brought his mind back to a place he very much did not want it to be in. Eventually he settled on a basic system of mentally narrating his movements in a way that could easily be accompanied by the necessary push of will to command the golem. It could always be refined later.

The finer motions seemed to be working well, though the lack of tactile feedback made it harder to tell if they would work equally well if he wasn't watching so closely. He fished a length of leather cord out of the bottom of his potions bag to test. His injury had made it painful to grasp anything small and to raise his arm above shoulder height for any length of time, both of which were required to tie his hair back. He didn't often wear it that way, but it was useful to have it out of the way every now and again. It took several attempts, a great deal of caution after the first accidental pull, and some intense concentration, but at the end of it his efforts bore fruit in the form of a lopsided bow. He gave a small hum of satisfaction, pleased with the progress, and let the arm fall back into his lap to rest.

"That looked hard." Blaise was still watching him, idly picking a leaf into tiny pieces. There was a growing pile of shredded greenery in front of her.

"I can't really feel it," Morgan said. "I tried earlier, but it was... I got something wrong with the command. It didn't focus correctly."

"Can I help?"

"I don't know how you would."

"I don't know," Blaise echoed. "Maybe I can do something to help you focus." She reached forward, then paused. "If it's all right." At his bemused nod, she gently took his left hand and turned it palm up. "Close your eyes," she suggested. He did. "All right, now I'll do some shapes. And you can focus on guessing what they are, maybe."

It was an interesting approach. Morgan started slowly, more prepared for the sensations this time. The power draw was less uncomfortable now that he knew to expect it. It was something almost like a pinch, but still a marked improvement over the type of pain it had been before. This, he could acclimatize to. He catalogued the gently persistent throbbing around the connections, reconciled it with the beating of his heart, categorized it as ignorable and tried to let it fade away into the background. It worked reasonably well, which was a pleasant surprise.

Next he eased his focus over to the intermittent touch moving down the inner forearm to the palm, then going back up. There was so much information in each small interaction that he'd always taken for granted - pressure, temperature, texture. The golem helpfully provided all of that information with force, an insistence that almost felt like alarm. Morgan asked it to quiet down, please, and it slowly ebbed into something that didn't set him on edge quite so badly. It would be ideal if he could figure out how to make it trigger only when touched, instead of having to give it commands to turn on or off. He toyed with that for a little while, getting used to the way it lit up his awareness.

"Anything yet?"

Morgan's eyes opened in surprise, which quickly gave way to embarrassment. He'd all but forgotten Blaise was even there, lost in the intensity of his focus. "Ah. Yes. It's helping a great deal. Thank you."

Blaise looked pleased. "Good. You're so quiet, I wasn't sure. I know you don't like touching, I was - what? Don't look so surprised, I'm not completely oblivious, you know."

"No. You're very observant. I appreciate it," he said quietly. It was something he'd never really realized until just now. She paid attention to him. Enough to notice the way he avoided physical contact. And she respected that unspoken boundary without questioning it, even though that meant she had to make a conscious effort to treat him differently. It was... nice, to be accommodated. Of course, it was probably nothing out of the ordinary for Blaise, just a natural extension of the kindness Morgan had identified in her long ago. Still, he let himself enjoy the revelation briefly before turning his attention back to the golem.

It was so tempting to do everything at once. There was a lot to modify, to adjust, to improve, to learn. But now that he'd been pulled out of his reverie of exploration once, it was easier to remember that he was not at his leisure. And Blaise had been so patient, always so patient with him. Because she knew he needed it, because she cared about him. Morgan reluctantly subdued the happiness bubbling in his chest and tried to focus on the task at hand, on what still needed immediate work. For now, the foundations of motion and feedback were in place. He allowed himself a little more fine tuning and decided that he could stand to leave it inert when he needed to use his magic elsewhere. He'd already gotten used to not using the limb, so it wouldn't be too much different.

"All right," he said eventually. "I'm done. For now. Thank you for your help. We can pick up where we left off yesterday, by the fountains." Blaise released his arm and stood in a fluid motion, stretching before she reached out a hand to help him up. Morgan took it, closing his eyes briefly against the wave of dizziness that washed over him as he stood. He blinked to clear the lingering reds and blues from his vision. When they faded, Blaise was making a displeased face.

"Doesn't look like you're ready."

"No, I'm fine," he assured her. The dizzy spell had passed, as they always did. She did not look reassured.

"Don't tell me you did all this on an empty stomach, Morgan. I've barely seen you eat since-"

"I ate before I started." A few hours before, in case the potions disagreed with him. And not very much, because eating was still unpleasant and he'd wanted to be able to focus. But he didn't want to talk about that, so he dug a piece of flatbread out of his bag and took a small bite. It seemed to pacify her.

Morgan chewed slowly, making sure his feet were firmly planted before he raised a golem from the earth outside the building. It was no different than it had ever been. Two skeletons followed. No noticeable problems with capacity, then, and with the arm inactive it felt like he was maybe even recovering his energy very slightly faster than usual. He allowed himself another small, satisfied smile as he stepped out to join the constructs.

"Hey!" Telash jogged towards Blaise and Morgan as they returned from the jungle. "There you are. I need you to show me what you taught Phaedra." Morgan glanced at Blaise, who shrugged. Telash seemed to be talking to him, anyway. "She won't tell me how she does it."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I haven't taught her anything. Our magic isn't the same."

"She's been showing off all day. Look." He brandished a bottle towards them. It was luminous, blue-white and flickering.

"Oh," Morgan said, reaching out. Telash jerked the bottle away.

"Show me. I want to do this with fire. There's got to be a trick to it, I'm just breaking the bottles when I try on my own."

"I... can tell you what I told her the last time we spoke, but I don't think-"

"Give us half an hour to unwind first, you insufferable prick. Some of us have actually been doing work all day." Blaise brushed past him, making him stumble half a step back to avoid a collision. He rallied quickly, springing into step beside her.

"I can help you unwind," he suggested with a leer and a wiggle of his eyebrows.

"I guess that would still leave me with twenty-eight minutes to relax properly," she replied. Telash made a choked sound of indignation.

"I'll have you know my skill as a lover is legendary!"

"That's funny. You don't hear a lot of legends about disappointment."

"You'd be singing a very different tune if you just-"

"Maybe that's your problem. If you're doing it right, your partner shouldn't have the breath to spare for singing."

"Oh, I could leave you breathless."

"With laughter, maybe."

Morgan split off in search of Phaedra. Blaise and Telash could enjoy their banter, or whatever it was they were doing. The words they were exchanging sounded rude, but they seemed to enjoy butting heads. It was just another thing he'd resigned himself to never understanding.

The search didn't take long. Phaedra was leaving Alkor's hut, struggling with a large basket laden with empty bottles of various shapes and sizes. She gave her head a little toss when she noticed Morgan, lifting her chin. "Little help here?"

He raised a golem without a second thought, its arms extended to accept the weight of the basket. Phaedra gave a grunt of effort as she shifted it over, then dusted off her hands. "Thanks. That's heavier than it looks. Has Telash found you yet?"

"Yes."

"He's persistent, you have to give him that. I'll show you what I figured out, but only if you promise not to tell him how to do it."

Morgan hesitated. He was so curious it almost felt like a physical itch, but at the same time he didn't want to antagonize the volatile fire mage. "I already agreed to repeat our earlier conversation," he said cautiously.

"Why did you do that?"

"He... asked." It had been more of a demand, really, but a request was a request.

"Hm. He's an ass, but he isn't stupid. Hell, he might be able to figure it out faster than me. Don't want that." She eyed Morgan appraisingly. The weight of her gaze was uncomfortable.

"Why do you want to keep this to yourself?"

Phaedra flashed a quick smile before turning to walk down toward the fire pit. "I don't, not really. That's why I've got all these bottles. I was planning to see if I can teach the others tonight."

Morgan followed with a confused frown. "Then why are you keeping it from Telash specifically?"

"For fun," came the breezy answer. "It's so easy to rile him up. Set those down on that bench?" The golem lowered the basket obediently. Phaedra watched it, her head slightly tilted. "Movement still eludes me. I tried with some old gauntlets from Hratli but I didn't get so much as a twitch in the fingers."

"Were you able to keep it contained?"

"Yes, eventually. It turned out to be better inside an insulating material. Leather gauntlets, glass bottles. It really wanted to spill out of the gauntlets, that's why I tried the bottles in the first place."

"Telash showed me a bottle. How long does it last, once it's contained?"

"That depends. Little ones, maybe five minutes. Big ones, about half an hour."

"Can you feed it to make it last longer? Do you need to unseal the container first? Could I-" he bit off the last question, remembering that she'd already laid out a condition he couldn't meet. And he was being too eager, rushing through his questions like a child instead of waiting for answers.

"Haven't tried, and don't know. What an interesting idea." Phaedra slipped a hand into the pockets of her robes and produced a glass vial about the size of her fist. It flickered softly. She popped the cork and slid the palm of her hand over the mouth of the bottle in one smooth motion. Half closing her eyes, her eyebrows twitched down in a brief frown of concentration. The light in the bottle grew brighter. Phaedra replaced the cork, holding the bottle up in front of her face with a smile.

"Well, there's one question answered. I think I'll wait on the other one. I want to give it some thought before I try it. I've already broken a lot of bottles. Here, catch."

She lobbed the bottle towards Morgan in a soft underhand throw. He fumbled it badly, nearly dropping it first in surprise and then again because that surprise delayed the response of his golem arm. Phaedra snickered behind her hand as he recovered. He ignored that, holding the bottle up with both hands to peer at its contents.

It was beautiful. Blue-white lightning crackled around the inside of the bottle, branching and converging in an enthralling display. It was almost like a living thing curling over and around itself. His skin tingled where it was touching the glass, and the golem arm thrummed a warning at the unfamiliar magic. Morgan could have examined it for a very long time, but he forced his gaze back over to Phaedra.

"This is amazing," he said earnestly.

"Useful, too," she replied. "It should stay bright even in the rain, and if I can get more power to fit in the same space it could have some real potential as a weapon. I just have to figure out how. Don't suppose you have any insights on that?"

"In some cases I'm limited by what the carrier will bear," Morgan offered, his eyes drawn back to the bottle as he turned it over in his hands. "Some materials take magic better than others."

"Oh, I was focused so hard on getting it to stay somewhere, I didn't even think... hmm, yeah, that's worth trying. I'll be right back." Phaedra picked up a few small bottles from the basket and set off purposefully toward the docks.

Morgan sat down on the bench, bringing his golem over to sit beside him. He touched the bottle to it experimentally. It did not react with a warning like the arm had done. There were plenty of potential reasons for that, though. Possibilities drifted across his mind as he watched the lightning circle around itself inside its glass prison. He slipped into something like a light meditation, the rest of the world falling away as he admired its beauty.

The sound of breaking glass brought Morgan back to full awareness with a start. His golem informed him a second later that it was under attack and had sustained some damage. A bottle had shattered across its broad back, sending sparks crawling over its surface. They lingered at the point of impact where the earth had been dampened.

"Well, that's promising," Phaedra said. Morgan turned to see her hefting another bottle. "Water's heavy, but it definitely holds more. I like where this is going. You can keep that, and don't worry about Telash. He'll figure out how to get what he wants one way or another."

Morgan wasn't sure what to make of that comment at all, so he thanked Phaedra and took his golem to the hut he'd been staying in. He watched the bottled lightning a little more. When it started to fade, he held it up to the golem and suggested it take. It accepted the bottle gently into its mass. There was a muffled crunch, followed by another warning that the golem had been damaged. That was slightly disappointing, but not wholly unexpected. It had just been an idea. It would have opened up enormous opportunities, but asking a construct to incorporate two different types of magic without the stabilizing element of an enchantment was obviously too much. Morgan set the golem down into the earth and relaxed into meditation, turning his attention back to his left arm instead.

#my writing #story: unbidden #body horror tw #food tw #eating tw #not particularly long or graphic but just in case

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yuvon-writes-letters · 3 years

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Yu, Jake,

I am glad you talked it out! I think both of you needed it. And I understand the need to recharge, I hope you feel better when this letter reaches you, Yuvon :)

It's still evening and I think I am done with preparing everything for tomorrow. I cooked. Chinese. Once again. I mean, I needed to use the food before I go, right? And Max will be happy tomorrow. (Please imagine I sighed here. Because I did.) I really don't know what to think. I'd rather be with J

No new messages from the Crow-Crew.

Now to Jessy, you're probably right. I don't even know if she'll answer again, I just hope she would've contacted us before her and the others just handed over their Jakes whereabouts.

If I could I would hit

And you are right, their whole timeline is pretty messed up...And the MWAF still out there (since I cannot imagine any Jake to be him)

Maybe you're also right, I shouldn't worry that much about TSB. I guess. Yeah. I am very sure Goldie did everything they could.

[For this one sentence the writing becomes more clean than Lis' normal writing] Like they always did...

[The writing's normal again, but a few pink stains are on the paper]

Sorry, I suddenly got a bit dizzy. Spilled my tea. Probably a bit exhaustion?

Yeah, Jake, you got things right. Somehow a Jessy comtacted us. I guess this could happen because she read Matts letters? Somehow? But I think that could be a reason we got the letter. She probably threw all of them in a mailbox together. (Since she said she wrote some everyone who sent Matt letters I think?)

You're also right about the fact that this Jake got framed... Are you Is everything Is the thought DAMN. Why is writing so difficult

I actually DO concur with you, Jake. It honestly makes much sense to me. Like, when I was enjoying my maladaptive daydreaming as a child (totally not still doing it) I liked to create my own worlds. Manipulate them while daydreaming.

We don't know much about different entities, but it just makes sense to me. And I don't know why I brought this up or where I wanted to go with this. I hope it was somehow understandable.

Jake also has some more things to say. I am not allowed to read, Yuvon can if she wants to. But it mainly is for you, Jake.

And one more thing before that...Is he in danger? Because I know Jake is working on something new. Just tell me he is not in danger.

Lis🐾🔥

[Again the screenshot of a message is glued to the back of the letter]

Before I start, thank you again for your help, Jake. I was able to work much faster with the knowledge you gave me.

But I have to ask you one thing. Liska gave me the possibility to read all letters until the letter where we could talk the first time without her reading. Did something happen? Or did anyone write something that disturbed her?

She doesn't show me the letter anymore, just telling me some information, saying it wasn't important. She changed topic when I want to ask her. What happened that she does not want to tell me?

If you are so nice Yuvon, if you read, I would like you to stop here. It's something that I don't want to tell you when Jake isn't ready :)

About your diagnose, was it ADHD? If you do not want to tell that's fine.

As for me, since you gave me the chance to get to know this about you. It was never diagnosed, but after my life I am pretty certain it doesn't need to.

I have had social anxiety since early childhood. That's the reason I am an complete introvert.

My mother never wanted to get me diagnosed, though.

I thought detail for detail wouldn't be that bad, and I understand what you mean. We're all similar but different. As well as Liska, Rai and Yuvon.

~ Jake

Lis,

We definitely needed to talk, yeah. I think Jake might have already said it, but thanks for pushing us into it. That misunderstanding could've snowballed into something bigger if we hadn't talked about it. It's sort of hard for me to parse that he could be concerned about me, because that's MY role in my head. I'm the one who's supposed to worry.

I'm trying to be better about that.

While it would've been nice if she'd contacted us before her Jake was imprisoned, it wouldn't have made sense in context. You don't get affairs in order before you work on getting the murderer imprisoned. Priorities. Besides, Matt apparently never even opened these letters, so we wouldn't exactly be first on the list of contacts to inform of his passing.

Lis, I have a bit of an odd request. Do you know about word association? It's basically, I give you a word and you write down anything that comes to mind when you think of it. It could be words with similar meanings, words related to memories that are connected to that word, if it's an object or related to an object a description of the object, etc etc. You don't have to think hard about it, it's probably better if you don't think about it too much actually. I'd like you to try it. Your word is "yellow".

I don't know how you're sending your letters, but I need to send them in here, and there's no mailbox or anything. I just put them in an envelope or am handed an envelope by Jake, throw them in the air, and say "send".

Yes, I learned this through trial and error. Yes, the first edition of the "send" command had a lot more cursing.

What's this about agreeing with Jake?

Jake just told me. Definitely seems like it, yeah. What I saw in the north room also supports that theory. I don't think it changes much for us, though. Whether we're being made into entertainment or not, we've still got to find a way out of our circumstances. If it means we have to break Fate to do it, fine. We'll find a way.

Mmm, probably not too much more danger than usual? All Jakes are in some danger at all times, so it's hard for me to judge. But I haven't really been reading the inter-Jake correspondences, so I don't know for sure.

Anyhow, that's all from me for now. Talk to you later, Lis :)

—Yuvon

(The handwriting changes to Jake's.) Hello, Lis and Jake.

That version of Jessica handed over my alternate self's whereabouts? That is... disturbing. I will endeavor to show more caution in what I reveal to Jessica in the future in this world, though admittedly her releasing my current location is not a great concern.

I suppose anyone can write to Yuvon, then, if they know of her existence. Is there a return address on these envelopes when they are sent? Yuvon and I assumed the method of returning letters was a little more mystical than mundane, given the method of sending, but it seems we leapt to conclusions.

I second Yuvon's suggestion of word association. As Yuvon said, do not think too hard about it. Simply write anything and everything that comes to mind. There is no right or wrong answers, so do not feel pressured, nor linger overly long on each association once it is written.

Yuvon seems very confident in her ability to "break fate". She was muttering something about rebirth and change while writing her section of the letter, as well. I am not entirely sure what she means by that, but if she has some sort of plan, far be it from me to stand in her way, so long as she does not put herself in danger.

I do not think it is precisely my place to tell you one way or another whether your Jake is in danger, but I assure you that your Jake is nowhere remotely near going the way of TSB. You do not need to worry on that count.

As always, it was a pleasure to speak to you, Lis. Or write to you, I suppose. If you would please stop reading here, I am about to address your Jake's message :)

You are welcome. That bug frustrated me for an embarrassingly long time; that is why I recalled it in such detail. Saving you the trouble was the least I could do.

There are two possibilities I can see as to why Lis may not be showing you the letters.

First: From what I understand, an alternate Jessica contacted Yuvon. Her version of the Detective, a man named Matt whom she was romantically involved with, was murdered, and that version of Jake was framed and possibly incarcerated. Yuvon did not share the letter with me out of respect to Jessica; Liska may feel similarly.

Second: I introduced a theory that the entities may be more involved with all versions of the Detectives than we previously believed. Tragedy so far seems to be particularly attracted to even the Detectives with no ties to the supernatural. Lis may not wish to share that information with you for one reason or another.

Unfortunately, other than that, I can think of nothing as of yet, but I will read back over recent letters later to ensure I have not missed anything.

That was a good guess, but the diagnosis was not ADHD.

Thank you for telling me. I suppose social anxiety would be another possible reason for our "flaw". Detail for detail sounds quite fair :)

Before I sign off, you should know that Lis is expressing concern over your safety. I informed her you would not go the way of TSB, so please do not make me a liar.

Good luck,

Jake

(The letter tucks itself into the paper clip with the others.)

#duskwood letter game #yuvon writes letters #duskwood #duskwood game #duskwood everbyte #duskwood jake #duskwood jessy #lis

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multifandomaddictedfangirl · 4 years

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When you think about it, Octavia’s arc actually makes a lot of sense.

Octavia has always been an antisocial girl and an insecure young woman. She grew up hidding under the floor on the Ark, with no human/social interactions (except her mom and her brother) for 16 years. Her mother died when she was very young (btw she was floated for having Octavia, try not to feel guilty for the rest of your life after that...) so the main person Octavia’s been talking to is Bellamy. She never left her bedroom except for that one time where she got arrested and put in a prison cell. She was sentenced to death just for being born.

When the Hundreds were sent to the ground, not only she had to learn to survive; she also had to learn how to socialise. How to belong in a group and be a part of something bigger than herself. A society. For the first time.

For someone who basically had no soft skills (communication skills, for instance) that must have been pretty hard. And pretty scary. My theory is Octavia has always felt very insecure about not fitting in, not being good enough for people to like and appreciate her, not finding a home on Earth. My guess is she was terrified her life on Earth would be like on the Ark: that she would end up isolated, scared and alone.

And that’s why she had to find something that would make her unique. When she met Lincoln, she learnt that she could fight. And that she was quite good at it - especially compared to the Hundreds. That’s what made her valuable. Suddenly she was a hero, someone that the Hundreds needed in order to survive. Her fighting skills made her special.

But then she became... too special. Too much like a Grounder. And Grounders were the enemy back then. She was judged for being too close to Lincoln, even by her own friends. Her loyalty was questioned by her peers. People suddenly looked down on her for the way she dressed, talked and acted. Even her fighting style became a problem: she wouldn’t use guns... just like the Grounders. Even Bellamy, her own brother, didn’t like it.

She didn’t belong with the Hundreds anymore. She knew she couldn’t stay with them. But then again, she wasn’t a true Grounder either. Not really. And she knew she would never be looked at as anything else than a sky person - no matter how hard Lincoln would try to educate her and teach her their way of living.

Octavia didn’t belong anywhere again.

Maybe if she had agreed to follow Lincoln when he suggested they ran away together to avoid war... She could have found her peace then. Lincoln had always been her home. He made her feel safe. She belonged with him and she had never been happier than when she was with him.

She felt so honored when she became Indra’s second. In s5 she even says it was the happiest day of her life. Finally, she had found a place in this world and a person who understood and respected her skills. It must have felt so good. Truth is Octavia really, truly, deeply liked being a warrior. It was a role she could assume easily and where she felt like she was needed. ´Warrior’ is a title she learnt to look up to, and value a lot. Lincoln and Indra were both warriors and they were both the two people Octavia respected and loved the most.

Being called a warrior made her feel strong, confident and powerful. No more insecurities. No more fears. She was no longer the girl hidden under the floor, or the lost delinquent trying to find her place on Earth. Now, she was a well respected member of a community. I believe she chose to define herself as a warrior, because it was the only thing that made her feel good about herself : like she had some honorable value whatsoever.

When Lincoln died, Octavia lost everything. For the first time in a long long time, she was vulnerable. She couldn’t feel safe or strong or powerful anymore. All she could feel was her sadness, her loss, her pain. It was too much for her, she was scared that without Lincoln, she wouldn’t be worth anything. She couldn’t face these feelings, so she built up a wall inside of her. I believe that’s why she turned the word ‘warrior’ into her whole identity. That’s why she acted so tough during s3 and s4. She used it like a shield to protect herself from her pain and misery. To fill the void inside of her left by Lincoln’s death because she couldn’t grieve.

A good example of that is her relationship with Illian. She almost killed herself in the black rain, just to avoid these painful feelings. She begged him to make her feel something else. Something else than pain. And then, even after they had sex, all she could think about was the war happening and how she wasn’t in it... She was so broken at this point. Lincoln’s death destroyed her completely. The only way for her to move on is to take on what she thought was Lincoln’s legacy and keep fighting.

And so, she had to rebuild herself. That’s why she choose to go to Polis and fight in the Conclave: to honor Lincoln. Her face paint was a good representation of that. In her mind, Lincoln was brave, he was a warrior. And so she had to be one too. She had to fight, because Lincoln never stopped fighting. And if Lincoln never stopped fighting, there must be hope at the end of the line. Even for her.

And hope she brought, by uniting all the clans. She offered a place in a bunker to a 100 people of the 12 different clans. Salvation for everyone (including herself). She created Wonkru (first) as a tribute to Lincoln. Because that’s what he would have done. Because he believed in peace. Because he wanted to bring people together, even during his last days on Earth. Octavia wanted to commemorate that.

The problem is... So far, Octavia strickly and only defined herself as a warrior, not as a leader. She refused that role for a long time, doubting herself, fearing people wouldn’t follow her, thinking she couldn’t do it. Which makes sense considering what she’d been through on the Ark and her vision of leadership. Her chancellor floated her mother, one of the two people she ever knew and loved. Plus, her experience with leadership on the ground wasn’t exactly the best example either : Bellamy (we do whatever the hell we want, killing the firt boy she ever kissed and had a crush on, torturing Lincoln...), Jaha (besides from floating her mom, bringing the city of light into Arkadia and Polis and forcing people to take a chip to be manipulated by an AI), Pike (hating all grounders alike, organising a massacre resulting in 300 Grounder deaths, and executing Lincoln)...

But now, by winning the Conclave and creating Wonkru, she became the leader of the last surviving people of the human race. And first of all, that’s a lot of pressure for a deeply insecure, messed-up, broken, still mourning, inexperienced young woman.

But most of all, Octavia was no Clarke. And she knew it. Cause let’s be real. Throughout the show, no matter who was the chancellor/commander/leader, Clarke was really in charge.

Except Clarke had learnt how to lead by now. Lexa even said Clarke was born to lead. Since s1 se automatically took control of things because it’s in her nature to care about others and to be in charge. What made her a good leader is that she knew how to make impossible choices and take tough decisions if needed to (the big attack at the dropship in s1, Mount Weather in s2, destroying the city of life in s3, etc.). But Clarke never lost her hope, her moral values and most of all her humanity in the process. Despite everything, Clarke was always trying to avoid the worst outcome, trying to save as many people as she could. She would always study all of her options beforehand, and almost always she would try to find a non-violent solution first (in Mount Weather, for instance, her first plan was a rescue mission with Lexa; then she tried to negociate with Wallace for the release of her people, and when there was no other option, she pulled the trigger). She generally values peace and will try to avoid war as much as possible (she met with Anya on the bridge, she proposed a truce to Lexa, she made an alliance with Roan...). She could sometimes spare a life, even a life of a traitor or an enemy (Emerson, for instance!). She took risks herself in order to save everyone (besides from sacrifying herself so that her friend could go to space, she also didn’t hesitate to inject herself nightblood bone marrow instead of just using emori). Now, let me be clear. She ain’t perfect, that’s for sure. She screwed up more than once, who hasn’t ? But in such a terrible setting, being faced with impossible choices, she always tried to do her best and to chose the "best option" available (considering the context, the information she had at the time, etc.)

Besides, even at the end, she could still draw a line between the good and the bad. It doesn’t mean she never crossed that line. She did. But at least she was aware of the cruelty, the violence and the consequences of her actions. It was never easy for her to take any of these decisions. And she still feels guilty about it now, to the point she hates herself, but she knows it was her job to "bear it so they don’t have to". To be the bad guy sometimes so that her people could live. To make hard choices - even if it meant being hated by people she cared about - so that her people could have a clear conscience in the end. As a good leader should.

In a word, Clarke didn’t sacrifice herself, her sanity or her humanity, in order to be able to lead her people. Octavia did.

Oh boy, she really did. And I think it’s because Octavia knew that she couldn’t be like Clarke. She knew she couldn’t be tough, take hard decisions and still keep her moral compass. She knew she couldn’t be strong enough to lead 12 clans of grounders (without the legitimacy of the flame!) and remain the same Octavia that she was before going to that bunker. She knew she couldn’t keep her humanity because the guilt would kill her off. Besides, in 5x11 (i think?) we see her taking a piece of glass and almost cut her wrist because she can’t take it anymore, but at the last time she changes her mind. It wasn’t the first time she did that, in my opinion. She knew that if she was gonna be a ruler, she had to go all in. She had to become absolutely ruthless; otherwise she wouldn’t be able to take the hard decisions. She had to throw away her moral values, she had to shut down that part of herself who cared, who loved, who felt things. She couldn’t allow the little girl she was to come back and compromise the survival of the human race. She couldn’t allow herself to be weak, the stakes were too high.

So she created Blodreina. A ruthless leader. A persona that could lead strongly, take the hard decisions, and show no mercy. Not even for Indra or Kane. Someone who could do all of these horrible things without feeling guilty. And years after years, Octavia disappeared a bit more. And Blodreina grew stronger.

And, so, this dictator ruled Wonkru for 6 years. That’s how long Blodreina reigned and slowly took control over Octavia. The real problem with Octavia in s5 isn’t what she did during the Dark Year; it’s what she did after that.

First of all, cannibalism wasn’t even her idea. It was Abby’s. Octavia never wanted this, she tried to fight it but Abby pushed it, saying it was the only thing to do in order to survive. And when some people refused to eat, Abby (again!) was the one saying she should punish by death the one who wouldn’t follow her order.

Second of all, in that context, it probably was the only option for them. At that point, they believed they were the last humans on Earth. They had to survive, it made sense that, as a leader, Octavia had to consider every option available. And there was only one, as terrible as it sounded. Taking away people’s choice in that matter was the limit Octavia should have never crossed. But Abby insisted and said not forcing people to eat would be the worst choice possible to make and would lead them all to starvation... So in a way, there, Blodreina was useful. She avoided the worst scenario possible. And it sort of made sense back then.

Third of all, no one stood by her during that time : not Kane, not Abby, not even Indra. They were with her, they advised her, they followed her, they ate, sure. But who actually had to create and impose that rule? Octavia. Who had to look like the bad guy in front of her people? Octavia. Who had to eat first? Octavia. Who had to kill those who wouldn’t obey? Octavia. Who had to organise, watch and regulate the fights in the arena? Octavia. Who had to stay strong no matter how horrifying their everyday life was? Octavia. Abby didn’t move a finger (while it was all her idea). Kane ended up by obeying but made it clear he was against the idea. Indra didn’t talk about it. It was a burden she had to carry alone (at least Clarke had Bellamy!). She would have needed emotional support, someone to share the weight of her choices with, someone to talk to about her feelings, etc. But she didn’t have that.

So I don’t blame Octavia for what happened in the Dark Year. She did what she had to, there was no other option. She didn’t like it, she didn’t want it, and she had to bear that choice on her own because no one else supported her like they should have. The fighting pit, which was at the beginning what looked like a (sort of) fair way to bring justice, became a source of food, a tool, a way to survive.

But after the Dark Year, not only Octavia kept the fighting pit (which was no longer needed now that Wonkru faithfully followed her and that the Dark Year had passed) but she increased the number of fights. She gave herself the power to judge the fights and condamn people to fight again before earning their freedom. The deal wasn’t fair anymore for the fighters. She even threw in people she knew were innocent (Kane, for instance). So much for justice. The opinion of Wonkru as spectators became very important: if people weren’t satisfied with the fight, Blodreina would force people to fight anyway. Indra warned Bellamy: being the last person standing wasn’t enough. They had to make a show, they had to perform.

Octavia turned the fighting pit into sports, as Kane said. As a way of entertainment.

Octavia impersonated Blodreina when Wonkru needed a strong, ruthless leader who could carry them into the dark... But then, Blodreina took control for so long that Octavia forgot who she was. She played the ruthless ruler card too much that she lost her humanity in the process. And when she got out of the bunker, she didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know how to move on from the horror she inflicted. She didn’t know how to get back to "normal".

Shallow Valley became her salvation. The justification she needed all along for all of her terrible actions in that bunker. The one thing that would make everything okay again. If she could only get her people to that safe eden, then everything she had done to survice would make sense. She was so focused on that goal that she blinded herself.

That scene with Indra, before the battle for Shallow Valley, is so heartbreaking. When she says, "When we get to that valley, everything will make sense. Everything we did to survive will be worth it", you can see that it’s actually Octavia talking (not Blodreina). She is telling Indra : please, let’s trust Blodreina just one more time, and then it will all be over. I think that she (Octavia) wants peace, deep down. She keeps repeating that, but she’s still afraid of leading Wonkru as Octavia. She has only earned their respect with Blodreina. Blodreina kept them alive during the Dark Year. Blodreina truly united Wonkru. Octavia still doesn’t think she can lead by herself, without that persona.

So Octavia shuts herself down to let Blodreina lead them again. And Blodreina wants war more than anything else. She would never surrender. And most importantly, she decides to take away people’s choice again, except this time she didn’t need to (like when she burnt the hydrofarm for instance). But that makes sense, because she only cares about one thing: winning the war, no matter what.

To conclude: Octavia’s journey is really hard to rewatch. Especially when you see her in s1 so young, happy and playful... But it makes sense. Yes, Octavia became a ruthless dictator who took away people’s will. Blodreina is the villain of the story in s5 (at least one of them). Her actions are beyond cruel and insensitive. A lot of people will die because of her decisions. She’s acting like a maniac half the time and she is (clearly) very mentally messed-up. i’m not standing by her side, saying I approve what she did or even that I find her likeable in her own way. I don’t even know if redemption is possible at this point. She might be gone too far.

But I just think her story is interesting in the sense that she has been falling down ever since Lincoln’s death and the persona she created, Blodreina, seems to be a result of her deep trauma, her pain, and her insecurities. She’s a broken, traumatised girl who has been put in a very hard position as an inexperienced and self-doubting leader in (possibly) the worst circonstances ever. Yeah, I’m not really surprised that it turned out this way.

Plus, now the valley is lost forever. Everything Octavia did (in the bunker and outside in s5) was for nothing. People died for nothing. And, unfortunately for her, she was wrong when she was talking to Indra before the battle : no, everything was not worth it... nothing makes sense. I doubt she will be able to get over that. She needed this win to be able to move on, to justify her actions, to find her peace. Without it, she’s just very susceptible to fall into old patterns of self-destruction. Plus, Bellamy really doesn’t seem ready to give her forgiveness (the one thing that might save her... at least that’d be a good start). And she’s not ready to receive it, either. Sadly, she might never be ready to really accept it.

#the 100 #the 100 rewatch #spoilers #octavia blake #octavia #blodreina #the red queen #s5 #season 5 #the 100 spoilers #character analysis #my posts #my post #just my thoughts #her journey is so tragic #i feel bad for her when i see her back in s1 #she didn’t want any of this #she tried to do the good thing when she won the conclave #it’s just so sad #she was just a teen in the end...#forced to take on too much responsibility in a messed-up world #so yeah...#:/#i don’t know if this post can be considered like a stan #i don’t really support what Octavia has become #I really wasn’t rooting for her in s5 #Killing her/Poisoning her was a solid plan in order to fight for peace #But I’m just saying her story is really unfortunate #she’s so traumatised and it’s sad to watch her go down like that #but that doesn’t justify everything either... it just makes sense that things turn out this way

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echodrops · 4 years

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*Slides in on a office chair* Now that you shared some of your HaaH headcanons for Shiro and Hunk, can you do Lance and Lotor?

Didn’t want to post these until I finally had some time to update them a bit and trim out spoilers, but I got a second last night, so here you are:

HaaH Lance and Lotor headcanons:

(Under the cut to save everyone’s dash)

First, a warning: Neither one of these characters’ backstories or plot event headcanons remotely line up with the show, one because I originally wrote most of this stuff around the time season 2-3 was being released and two, because I stopped watching Voltron after season 6 and have no intention of watching the rest of the show due to my dislike for the directions the writing took. I went back and updated some stuff, such as the names of some of Lance’s siblings, to more closely match what came later in the show… but for the rest… I’m just gonna do my own thing and pretend canon does not exist.

Lance:

- The literal definition of “rich as fuck.” When relaxations on economic policy were passed in Cuba that increased opportunities for private business, Lance’s grandfather made a solid deal for three massive sugar refineries. Today, artisanal coffee houses across the world utilize the sugar refined in Lance’s family’s factories.

- Grew up in a giant villa on the peninsula just outside the town of Varadero, on a sprawling property that included a long stretch of beachfront and individual bungalows for visiting family members and the family’s several live-in staff members.

- The whole family is incredibly down to earth despite this. Lance’s aunt and grandmother insist on having a hand in every family meal, Lance’s parents always make time to be involved in the children’s activities, and Lance was taught from a very young age never to take advantage of people, regardless of their position in the world.

- Lance is the baby of his immediate family by almost ten years. He was an accident that occurred after Lance’s mother believed she was too old to become pregnant. Of course his parents never treated Lance like an accident and loved him, but still, Lance has never been able to shake the idea that he wasn’t planned—and therefore he wasn’t wanted.

- He has four older siblings, two sisters and two brothers.

- All of Lance’s siblings are extremely successful in their careers. Lance’s oldest sibling, his sister Veronica, is a captain of the Cuban Navy and commands the impressive warship Audaz. Lance’s second oldest sibling, his brother Yuniel, is a decorated conservational ecologist working to protect Matanzas’ native forests. Lance’s third sibling, his brother, Marco, is a famous solo folk musician who made it big in Cuba. Rachel, Lance’s closest sibling, runs an immersion-based cultural heritage museum that preserves the rich and complicated history of Cuba and its people.

- In short—Lance grew up surrounded by the rampant success of his older siblings, watching as they excelled at everything they pursued—which just bred a greater and greater sense of insecurity in him, as he feared he would never be able to measure up.

- On Lance’s eighth birthday, in an attempt to cheer up his very depressed youngest son, Lance’s father dragged the family’s telescope down to the beach so that they could watch a space shuttle launching from the cape in Florida. At first Lance couldn’t work up the slightest interest, but when he finally saw the huge plume of the shuttle, arcing off into the unknown depths of space, he had a Moment™. Lance knew, right then and there, exactly what he was going to do with his life, something that none of his siblings had ever achieved: he was going to go into space and explore worlds unknown.

- Lance decided that he had, absolutely HAD, to go to Galaxy Garrison when he grew up. This part worried his parents, who pointed out that Garrison was not only in another country but also a solely English-speaking school and extremely competitive. Nonetheless, Lance was determined that he would not settle for anything less than the absolute best.

- Was totally that space obsessed kid. Still thinks Black Holes are the coolest thing in the universe. His parents bought so much “Astronaut” ice cream that they probably kept that entire industry afloat.

- Lance attended Garrison’s summer Astrocamp in Arizona when he was nine. Quickly made friends with his cabin-mate, Hyrum Tava. The nickname “Hunk” came about from a slip-up when Lance tried to compare his new friend to one of his favorite American cartoon characters, the Incredible Hulk.

- Even after leaving the Astrocamp, Lance and Hunk stayed close friends, exchanging frequent emails and phone calls, which helped Lance stay on top of memes popular trends back in the states.

- Shiro was Lance’s cabin leader at the Astrocamp, and his kindness and exciting stories about actually visiting space(!!) made a huge impression on Lance. Lance… may or may not have had a celebrity shrine to Shiro made of photos and news clippings taped to his wall for several years. Whatever, every kid does it and he took it down eventually, gosh!

- Identifies as bisexual, but has never successfully dated anyone, male or female. Due to several bad experiences and close calls, Lance doesn’t talk about his sexuality or express any attraction to men except around people he is extremely comfortable with. Hunk has known for years, of course. (In fact, it was Lance’s struggle with his feelings that helped Hunk develop strong sympathy for LGBT people, despite the fact that his religion is very against it.)

- Never had a real kiss. Might be just a tiny bit desperate to have a real first kiss.

- Also might buy a bit too much into the idea of needing to be stereotypically attractive to fit in. Although his nightly beauty regime is now a comforting routine, it originally stemmed from Lance being extremely self-conscious about his looks. He’s more comfortable about his body than he used to be, but he still frequently compares himself negatively against others; do you know what kind of hell it is to have to share a locker room with people like Shiro?

- Cries at the drop of a hat. Sad book? Sad movie? Abandoned kitten? Dropped something on his toe? Tears times ten thousand. Lance was never pressured by his family to “man up;” in fact, he was always encouraged to empathize, so Lance is extremely sensitive to others’ feelings. (He and Hunk are a great fit in this regard.) He can perceive even minute changes in people’s emotions and is always ready to cheer up people who are down.

- He can’t read Keith for crap though. Not really his fault. Keith’s a literal alien.

- Lance’s extreme empathy actually backfires on him. Because being sensitive to others is second nature to him, it’s often hard for Lance to remember that not everyone is as perceptive as he is. Lance has, many times, mistaken the other paladins’ obliviousness for indifference. Everyone on the ship cares deeply about Lance and would never want him to feel bad about himself—but not everyone on the ship is perceptive enough to notice when Lance’s insecurities are affecting him.

- Wasn’t put in the cargo pilot classes at Garrison because of his flight test scores—most green cadets have zero flight experience and all do pretty badly at first. Lance was placed in cargo class because he scored too high on a combat sensitivity test, indicating that he was a poor fit mentally for becoming a soldier. Fighting monstrous looking aliens is one thing, but Lance would have coped very, very badly if he’d ever been required to kill another human being.

- Struggled to fit in at Garrison. After the crushing disappointment of ending up in cargo class, Lance also dealt with a lot of people treating him like an outsider because he was an international student. “Why is someone from Cuba trying to join the U.S. military? Are you a spy?”

- Couple that with the complicated student visa process and how his status as an international student might affect his ability to take part in Garrison-sanctioned internships and cross-border activities, and Lance felt utterly alienated at Garrison in his first few months.

- May… or may not have done exactly what his parents taught him not to do by looking for a scapegoat to take out his frustrations on. Keith, the lone wolf, ace pilot pretty boy who was too cool to even talk to the rest of the cadets (really thought he was too good to even make eye contact with Lance, huh?!) was an obvious target. Keith had every single thing that Lance had ever wanted in his whole life—the combat class, the talent, the prestige, the respect, the effortless looks—and he didn’t even seem happy to have it!

- Lance had never hated anyone before in his entire life, but Lance hated Keith—Keith basically came to stand in for every obstacle in Lance’s way, every mocking insult thrown Lance’s way, every harsh reminder from the professors that he’d never even be close to good enough, never measure up when someone like that existed… Lance started to honestly believe that the only way he’d ever be able to achieve his entire life goal was if Keith was taken out of the picture—something that proved unfortunately true when Lance was bumped up to combat class the moment Keith went missing from Garrison.

- Lance never actually said any of this stuff to Keith’s face before Keith left Garrison (Lance dreaded his parents finding out he’d been rude), but he would shit-talk Keith to anyone who would listen, a bad habit that was reinforced by people actually accepting Lance more when he started gossiping and spreading rumors than when he’d just tried to be genuinely nice.

- Even though he’d like to repair his relationship with Keith now that they’re teammates, Lance has no idea how to do that after so much time has passed. He really has no clue how to treat Keith normally after building him up into such a bitter rival. It’s… a work in progress.

- A big fan of RPG games and roleplaying. Definitely gets the most in-character when it comes to Monsters and Mana. His favorite thing about meeting new cultures is discovering nifty space items that look like key items from video games. Used to play old school RPGs with his cousins every afternoon. Playing with Pidge is extremely nostalgic for him.

- Has a host of other hobbies that don’t get much use inspace but are nevertheless impressive: he can surf, dive, and was part of a traditional dance group all the up until he left for Garrison. He doesn’t tend to think much of his hobbies as they’re not exactly practical skills you need every day in a space war, but the other members of Team Voltron are quietly impressed whenever they’re reminded of the cool things Lance can do.

- Lance has the strongest bond with his lion of any of the paladins. His connection with Blue is so innate that he can actually activate Blue’s abilities from outside his lion.

- The first one of the paladins to transform his bayard and the only one whose bayard can take three forms. And no, none of the three is a sword because what was the point of that, even??? Lance can wield his standard blaster, a long rifle, and dual pistols. The strength of theshots from Lance’s bayard can be consciously controlled—his thoughts and intentions determine whether a shot has the strength to kill or merely stun.

- Lance’s incredible aim isn’t a natural talent. Actually he’s spent hours and hours in a shooting range he found in the castle, working on perfecting his shot. Just like the gladiator levels on the training deck, the targets in the range keep getting harder and harder, but Lance is progressing very well. No one but Coran knows that Lance has been training so hard with his bayard, since Lance desperately wants to pretend his skill is all natural and has sworn Coran to secrecy. Coran covers for him by pretending he’s sent Lance off on absurd cleaning missions all the time.

- Is 1000% Coran’s favorite of the paladins. Coran won’t even try to lie if asked. Although Coran has never expressed it out loud, he sees Lance as an example of the brave, kind-hearted son he would have hoped to raise—if his son had survived the war. (On Lance’s part, although he’s also never shared this, Coran reminds him very much of his beloved uncle, who passed away when Lance was very young, but whom he still remembers well and extremely fondly.)

- After his uncle passed away, Lance’s aunt moved in with Lance’s parents permanently, and Lance essentially helped to raise his two very young cousins, Nadia and Silvio. Lance does have very good experience with children—unfortunately for him, what human children respond well to doesn’t always work for Galra kids!

Lotor:

- Has not spent 10,000 years kicking about the universe. We’re not doing that weird “If he’s immortal because of the rift creatures then how come his governess is still alive?” plot hole song and dance routine from the actual show. Lotor was born after the war decimated the Alteans 10,000 years ago, but due to Haggar’s condition (aka being, you know, dead), he was essentially unable to live on his own and was placed in cryostasis very shortly after being born.

- Roughly 20 years before the discovery of the Blue Lion on Earth, Haggar used advancements in quintessence manipulation technology to successfully revive the infant Lotor. But she didn’t wake him for no reason—she has a very specific intention for her son, a long endgame plan, of which Lotor and even Zarkon are currently unaware.

- We’re also not doing that dumb “How could Haggar—the only remotely Altean-looking being in all of Zarkon’s presence—possibly be my mother?” plot from the show either. Lotor is aware that Haggar is his mother, although he has never been able to infiltrate her research facilities and therefore has no idea how an Altean scientist ended up where she did, looking like she did, and siding with the Galra against her own people.

- Because his parents’ past and his own origins are such a mystery, Lotor is obsessed with learning the truth of the war, the Alteans, and every hidden secret from that time period, including Voltron and the mysterious “rift.” He devours any information he can get on this period of history, and especially on Alteans, voraciously.

- But even though he’ll take any pieces of information he can get, Lotor’s real favorite obsession is mythology. He’s a deep lover of folklore and fairytales, bestiaries and local legends, and more than one assassin has traded a good story in exchange for having his life spared. Lotor may or may not hunt for space cryptids in his spare time. However, no single legend occupies Lotor’s mind as much as the legend of the mythical realm of Oriande, home of the ancient Altean alchemists. As practical as he tries to appear, Lotor has never given up his deep-down childish wish to be the one who finds the promised land of Oriande and prove it is real. But when he thinks back… Where was it that he first heard about Oriande, again? Who told him…?

- That entire thing with the hidden Altean colonies is just… not going to happen. The writers were bad and they should feel bad. Although Lotor has looked, after 10,000 years and plenty of centuries of hiding any Altean connections, distinguishing those who still have Altean blood has become essentially impossible.

- Part of the reason Lotor has looked for Alteans is that he was born with a bizarre grab-bag of Altean instincts and abilities and no guidance on how to deal with them, because he’s certainly not going to reveal to Haggar that he has unexplained talents like precognition and the ability to speak to planets. Growing up with half of his bloodline extinct has been ROUGH on Lotor.

- Speaking of growing up… Even though he remains the crown prince on official record, Lotor took the first opportunity he could to leave his parents’ sphere of influence, and he has not physically been back to Galra Central Command in more than ten years.

- Lotor is effectively a universal wanderer. Aboard his personal ship the Urbanus (a Destroyer-class star cruiser which has been heavily modified and improved by Lotor himself), Lotor and his generals travel wherever they like, both within the Galra Empire and outside it, dodging Haggar’s frequent attempts to re-exert control over Lotor and even more frequent assassination and kidnapping attempts from Zarkon’s enemies.

- Although Lotor has a very specific goal in mind, progress on this goal has been slow and painstaking, and he’s often left waiting for the next bare bones clue to chase after; this has resulted in the young prince having an unfortunate abundance of free time, which is dangerous for everyone involved. In between progress on his mysterious life’s goal, Lotor and his generals frequently get into trouble with small planets, local governments, militaries both official and off-the-books, giant monsters, and at least two hundred museum curators. They may or may not be wanted for grave-robbing in 13 different star systems.

- Basically he’s space Indiana Jones, if Indiana Jones was still 20 and also purple and also not being paid enough to be a good guy.

- All that said, as much of a devil-may-care rogue as he’d like to be seen, Lotor did spend all of his childhood under the thumb of the empire’s brutal authoritarian dictators, and he is therefore every inch a crown prince; as befitting one of his stature, he speaks eight languages fluently, flawlessly matches his formal dress to the occasion, knows exactly which piece of silverware to use when, can engage in political battles of wits and diplomatic machinations with the best of them, and has been training in armed combat since he was three years old. Lotor’s impeccable manners and steely leadership ability were literally beaten into him, to the point that now, even among trusted allies, he sometimes finds it difficult to turn off his cold, calculated princely persona.

- Not that his generals really let him get away with that kind of thing for long. Only those who have lived with multiple older sisters can truly understand the constant state of teasing and mortifying blackmail that Lotor lives in. On official record, Lotor’s generals are a crack team of terrifying bodyguards; in practice, they’re more likely to be dragging Lotor for all he’s worth than rescuing him. They might keep up formal appearances in front of others, but they’re effectively a close-knit family behind the scenes.

- It’s not a coincidence that all of Lotor’s generals are women; besides generally being awful, most Galra men make Lotor uncomfortable. From a human standpoint, Lotor is ridiculously tall and powerful; but from a Galra standpoint, Lotor is a thin, unhealthy-looking thing whose stature doesn’t command authority or respect in the slightest. It’s exhausting feeling like you have to constantly prove yourself, so Lotor prefers to spend time with a group that doesn’t invite negative comparison.

- However, it should be noted that a Galra man having only female friends has completely different connotations than a human man having only female friends—Galra women are, on the whole, considered more aggressive, bloodthirsty, and over-bearing than Galra men, so any Galra man who would choose to surround himself with that many women must either be out of his mind or incredibly badass.

- When asked what it’s like to live with four beautiful women, Lotor is basically ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ personified. Despite living together for years, none of the generals are romantically interested in Lotor and he’s not romantically interested in any of them.

- Many people have incorrectly assumed that Lotor and Axca are a pair, but Lotor helped Axca escape from a slave colony and she will never let another man touch her in her life. Axca is extremely grateful and loyal to Lotor, but given that Axca was Lotor’s first real friend, he’s just as grateful to her.

- If you think I’m killing off Narti, you’re out of your mind.

- Despite the fact that Lotor does not feel connected to the Galra Empire or the Galra as a whole, he’s somewhat more traditional and more likely to conform to Galra social standards than he wants to admit (even to himself). He insists that he has no interest in upholding the classic values of the Galra or meeting their expectations for how a prince should behave—but in truth, it’s impossible to fully kill that deep-down desire to just fit in. When push comes to shove, Lotor always finds himself falling in line with the Galra��s oldest and most deeply ingrained beliefs.

- With Lance in the “has never had a real kiss” club. Is not with Lance in the “wants a real kiss” club. Lotor is actually uncomfortable with being touched by strangers (36 assassination attempts will do that to you) and doesn’t make real friends, let alone anything closer, remotely easily. Some people are open books; Lotor is that one book from Harry Potter that bites people’s fingers off when they try to open it. Once you’re in his inner-circle, he’ll let you hang all over him, but before that, the space bubble is ten feet in every direction.

- Doesn’t actually put any special effort into his appearance. He just Looks Like That™.

- In fact, he actually kind of hates that stupid cowlick hair that’s always in his face but no matter how many times he cuts it off or slicks it back, it just keeps falling right back in his eyes. He’s basically given up at this point.

- His sword’s name is Eris and it was actually forged in the heart of a dying star.

- Kova the space cat hates Lotor. Lotor hates Kova. It’s a mutually antagonistic relationship. Somehow though, Lotor never makes any effort to get rid of Kova and Kova never takes the opportunity to leave. No one else understands it either, especially since Lotor gets along great with basically every other animal he meets.

- He’s not a pacifist by any means, but he is painfully practical and knows that, on occasion, sparing the life of one’s enemy nets more gain than indiscriminately crushing opponents beneath his heel. More manipulative than outright aggressive, he’s easily capable of twisting even the worst of situations to his advantage. Has an unfortunate tendency to be overly cunning—sometimes the tricks and twists he comes up with are unnecessarily full of flourish just because he thinks manipulating people like pieces in a board game is extremely entertaining. Riddles and mind games are Lotor’s favorite—the more convoluted, the better.

- Although most people refer to him by the basic “Prince Lotor” (Lotori Ahn in Galra), Lotor’s full name and official title is Lotori Kir Ahnja Avel i’ya ne Daibazaal, His Royal Highness Prince Lotor of the First Star. As the emperors and empresses of the Galra are said to be physical representations of the goddess, the firstborn children of emperors/empresses are always called “the first star,” after the supposed first creation of the goddess.

- Extremely competitive, but mostly about weird things—like sure he’s going to win if you challenge him to a swordsmanship duel, but challenge him to a staring contest? Your eyes will rot out of your head before this boy will blink. Do not think he will let you beat him in a spelling bee. More than once the generals have had to drag him away from getting involved in the bizarre competitions of the alien cultures they come into contact with. He was 1000% ready to learn to knit eight-armed sweaters with Rikrik fur, thank you. Would totally take up pig-farming JUST to win an Earth state fair.

- Likes to collect interesting artifacts and trinkets of lost civilizations by force if necessary. His ship is basically a floating museum at this point. The generals are starting to worry that they’re going to have add a whole ‘nother deck for all the war prizes Lotor wins himself. Lotor’s gathering hobby extends to games too—he’s a big fan of games that involve sets of items, like Renni, the Galra collectible card game. Would 110% be that Magic the Gathering nerd back on earth.

- In terms of other interests, Lotor is the picture definition of a Renaissance man. Although he’s not a flawless genius savant in every field, he is wicked smart and has studied a vast array of subjects; he’s a capable engineer, a skilled mathematician, a deft philosopher, a good scientist, and extremely well-read, and he is not going tolet you forget any of those things at any point in time. Lotor is always going to be better than you, please just accept your fate.

- Art is… another story. He might be able to sketch detailed architectural blueprints without breaking a sweat but ask him to draw a dog and you’re going to be in for some trouble.

And that’s more than enough for now I think! XD

#lance mcclain #prince lotor #lotor #Voltron #voltron headcanons #voltron fanfic #Home and a Half #HaaHVLD #echo answers asks

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griffinequestrian · 4 years

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Heels Down Mag: Demystifying The Half-Halt With Jacquie Brooks

By Justine Griffin for Heels Down Mag

The dreaded half-halt – it’s a common aid used in any discipline. But understanding the timing, the pressure, and the proper release is truly an art.

Heels Down Mag spoke with Canadian two-time Olympic dressage rider, Jacquie Brooks, on how to master the half-halt.

“The problem with the word ‘half-halt’ is that it is seemingly simple, but actually quite complicated,” said Jacquie, who regularly coaches both eventers and dressage riders. “The real meaning of the word is to find your sport balance.”

Sport Balance

What does ‘sport balance’ mean exactly, in dressage? Jacquie used gymnastics as an example.

“Think about a gymnast on the balance beam,” she said. “They have to distribute their weight evenly in order to balance on the beam. Now think of the dressage horse when you ask for a halt. Ideally, the horse should be perfectly square, round through his back, and his weight should be evenly distributed over his legs. That’s balanced.”

So now, think about the horse when he’s moving. A half-halt is designed to help when a horse is losing or has lost its balance. It is a moment in time where the rider asks the horse to return to light, self-carriage.

“With any sport, skiing, gymnastics, whatever… when you lose your balance you know when you reach the point of no return and you have to stop. You halt,” she said. “But if you can recover, you might wobble, but then you recover your balance, and you then you keep going. That’s the half-halt.”

Like Driving A Car

“A half-halt is used when a horse loses its balance, like if it has fallen on its forehand. If you cannot rebalance the horse in motion, the goal would be to halt fully. A half-halt is used to rebalance while still on the move,” Jacquie explained.

To picture this, Jacquie says think about taking a turn while driving a car. Naturally, we slow the car down as we approach the turn.

“You stop the car if you know you won’t make the turn,” she said. “But generally speaking, you don’t speed up going into the turn. It’s the same process when you’re trying to re-establish balance.”

That’s where the half-halt comes in.

Comes Down To Training

Jacquie breaks down the components of the half-halt into two important training categories. The first comes back to sport – proper balance takes training. The second is to respect the horse as an animal.

“When we train a dog, we teach them to sit, stay and come. We physically might help the dog to sit at first as they are learning. But soon they intellectually understand these three basic commands. Horses understanding the commands to halt, stand require the same basic training. It’s really not that different between horses and other animals,” Jacquie described.

“We teach the horses that if no aids are on, they should stay in that gait. With resistance aids, they should slow. With driving aids, they go forward,” she said. “The horse has to respect each of these common aids in order to establish balance.”

Where training some times goes wrong is when riders put a heavy bit in a horse’s mouth, and the resistance aid is trained in a way that puts the horse more onto the forehand, and therefore they do not halt in balance.

Once these three main aids are taught, the horse can then incorporate bending and turning.

“Balance is the most important thing,” Jacquie explained. “Just take it at face value – it’s halfway to the halt, find the balance, and then keep going.”

#horse #horses #horse back riding #equestrian #equestrian problems #flatwork #on the flat #dressage #half-halt #half halt #Heels Down Mag #Heels Down Magazine

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vivalaskristie · 5 years

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Chapter 9 Just Killing Time

Book: The Royal Romance (AU)

Series Premise: Parallel, behind the scenes, Madeleine and Bastien

A/N: This is my first series, my first AU, because Madeleine and Bastien needed to smash. I posted and then pulled it because it wasn’t quite right. It’s still a work in progress.

Warnings for this series: The first sex scenes I’ve ever written, bad language, sneaking around, alcohol, general mischief and the occasional academic symposium.

Chapter 1 Prelude

Chapter 2 Drinks on a Yacht

Chapter 3 A Dark and Stormy Night

Chapter 4 Meanwhile, Back At The Palace

Chapter 5 She’s Gone

Chapter 6 All The Single Ladies

Chapter 7 The Game is Afoot

Chapter 8 It’s A Farce

Permatags: @speedyoperarascalparty @burnsoslow @dcbbw @emceesynonymroll @stopforamoment

The palace released one additional announcement that day. The competition to become Liam’s bride was officially cancelled, citing an acknowledgement that the entire premise was demeaning to women and that it devalued the entire idea of marriage. The participants were thanked profusely for their efforts and devotion to Cordonia’s advancement. The palace made it clear that the media would be required to respect their privacy, and a formal apology was issued to all involved. Future events that focused on Cordonia’s rich history and culture were in development, and all would be welcome.

Bastien spent the day overseeing the evolving palace security protocols. There was really no way to know how the people of Cordonia would respond to what was going on. Everyone was on high alert. The residents, staff, and guests were discouraged from leaving the safety of the palace, and nobody was allowed in.

Olivia, Penelope, Kiara, Hana, and Riley were all in Madeleine’s suite. There wasn’t anywhere for them to be, so they took advantage of the down time to watch movies and daydrink. By mid-afternoon, Madeleine started texting Bastien.

At the end of one of the longest days of his career, Bastien got cleaned up in his own room, in case Madeleine’s was still full of her friends. He saw no reason to stay away now that everybody knew about them, though, so he let himself into her suite through the front door. Someone was asleep on the couch, but the fall of long dark hair showed that it wasn’t Madeleine. Kiara. Another form was curled into a chair. Red hair and clenched fists. Olivia.

He made sure the balcony door was secured, and then silently made his way into the bedroom. A sense of deja vu crossed his mind, and he smiled at the memory of their night on the yacht. I’ve got to get a job where I’m not sneaking into her bed in the middle of the night so much, he thought.

Madeleine was sprawled out across the bed. He marveled at how one so small could take up so much of such a big space. He looked at her for a moment. She let out a decidedly unladylike snore.

“Hottest damn woman on the planet right here,” he said out loud. “Mother of my children.”

“Love,” she murmured through her dreams.

“Love,” he replied.

He made sure she had water and ibuprofen close by, and crawled into bed, curling around her.

***

“Oh god I’m going to die.”

Madeleine’s brain was too big for her head. She opened one eye and closed it again immediately when the room spun around her. She was laying on her stomach, and she felt a warm hand on her lower back. She groaned and leaned up into it.

“Good morning, Icarus. Fly a little close to the sun?”

She smiled in spite of herself as she started remembering the previous day. She’d spent it laughing with friends. It had been forever since she’d had that much fun. But wow, she was paying for it.

“I seem to recall texting you,” she murmured with closed eyes.

“Yeah, about that…”

“I regret nothing.” He laughed and rubbed her back. “Mmmmm, you will keep doing that, please and thank you,” she managed to command and purr all at once. His hand slipped under her tank top and he sat up to get more leverage. Bastien worked through the knotted muscles, feeling the stress she had absorbed in the past weeks loosening up. He made a fist and twisted his knuckles into her shoulder blade.

“Oh that spot right there. Yeah, that’s the good stuff,” she mumbled into her pillow. Inspired, he tugged her shirt over her head. “No no no you stopped. Go back to that thing with the knuckles.”

“Work with me. I need access to all the fun places,” he said as he ran his tongue up her spine to the nape of her neck. He felt her twitch under him as goosebumps covered her skin. He moved her hair out of the way and bit her shoulder. She started to roll over and reach for him, and he pushed her back down. “No, stay there. I like the view.”

He worked up and down her entire body, from her scalp to the soles of her feet. He slid her underwear down her legs. It was sensual and powerful and delicate and she gave herself over to it. She felt his mouth, his scruffy chin, his breath moving over her with his hands. He licked her neck behind her ear and whispered, “Any requests?”

“Potatoes and coffee would be amazing.”

“I’m sorry what?”

Her eyes opened wide as her stomach rumbled. Did she say that out loud? She quickly rolled over onto her back. “I mean, come here baby and show me how manly you are” and she pulled him down for a kiss, pulling his hands back to her body.

“Oh don’t let me get in the way of your breakfast, your Grace, “ he said in mock indignation.

“Shut up and get back to work down here. You missed some key locations.”

“Really? I thought I was pretty thorough. Show me.”

“This whole front part was utterly ignored,” she said in a snooty voice as she ran her index finger down between her breasts.

“Let me jump right on that, milady.” He put his mouth over one nipple and squeezed the other. His free hand traveled down between her legs. “I know it’s not potatoes but it’s the best I have right now.” She gasped out a laugh.

“Cream, madam?”

“Not yet, but keep going….” she jumped as he ran a finger over her clit and slipped it inside her.

“You sure you don’t have a headache?” he murmured, grazing his teeth against her thigh. “You’re not weak from hunger?”

“I am, but I’ll allow you to eat first.” She raised a knee.

He snorted out a laugh. What was with her today? He’d never had so much fun with any woman. “Your wish is my command.” He lowered his head, his low growl of a laugh rumbling against her. He kissed and licked his way back up her body to her mouth and thrust his cock into her. She cried out at the abrupt change in sensation, and dug her nails into his back as she held on to him. He moved faster and faster, drilling into her. They reached a frantic rhythm and she began to shake under him, and he lost control of his senses.

Afterward, They lay together quietly for awhile, staying tangled up around each other.

“HOLY SHIT YOU GUYS THAT SOUNDED AMAZING,” Olivia yelled from the other room.

“LIV WOULD YOU CALL FOR SOME POTATOES I’M STARVING,” Madeleine hollered back. Bastien buried his face in her neck, laughing and holding her tight.

***

As they were enjoying their potatoes and coffee in bed, Madeleine’s phone buzzed on the nightstand.

Family meeting, everybody. Gather in the 2nd floor library 30 min.

Wait who’s that?

We’ve been hacked! Abort!

Who added Liam to the group?

I added myself.

You can’t add yourself to a group chat! #rude How do you even do that? Show me

I’m the mf king. You think I don’t have the authority to slide into your DMs, fool?

I feel like we’re in trouble. Are we in trouble? Should I pack?

GUYS. Relax. Maddie, tell Bastien?

Sure.

Oh like Bastien’s not right there reading over her shoulder #lovahs

Maxwell if you ever manage to get with anybody, remind me to make fun of you for it.

BURN HAHAHAHAAAAAAASavage

Dang girl!

Merde!

LOL pwn

They were all seated in the magnificent main library when Liam walked in and sat down. Everybody knew about Drake & Riley and Bastien & Madeleine. Nobody knew what Liam had planned.

He began without preamble.

“You are my best friends. I’ve been around you all for my entire life, and I’m horrified that you felt pressure to be part of Regina’s … whatever it was. I’m so sorry. Please know that it’s done, and none of you needs to explain it to anyone. The Crown will take all responsibility for any damage inflicted.

“My father was planning to step down in the next few months anyway. He’s been diagnosed with cancer–” he stopped abruptly when he heard the gasps of shock–”and his prognosis is good” –everybody sat back in relief–”but he and I agreed that in the interest of helping Cordonia regain some stability, we’d make the big changes right now.

“Ladies, the fact that you basically organized into a labor union in order to avoid becoming queen reminded me of why you are all so important to me. I would have been lucky, and it would have been my honor, to have been worthy of marrying any of you. Your duty to crown and country is unquestioned.” The women were all smiling, obviously relieved but still utterly unapologetic. “I look forward to implementing policies that empower Cordonia’s girls to grow into strong women like all of you.”

“Riley you are amazing and I’m so glad you’re here. Your happiness is important to me, even if that means you’re not with me.” Drake took Riley’s hand and looked over at Liam in gratitude.

“Guys, you are my brothers. You’ve dealt with a lot because of your friendships with me, and I can never show you how much you all mean to me.” Maxwell had tears rolling down his face.

“I love you bro!”

“Yes Max, love you too, my bro.” They all laughed.

The conversation continued for hours. Liam began to detail his plans for what he wanted for Cordonia. He singled them out for potential cabinet positions and executive offices. He emphasized that these were offers and not commands, and he made no secret of the fact that he wasn’t entirely comfortable with the rapid changes that had happened to him. He’d had plans of his own, and while he hoped to fulfill some of them, he knew he had to let some go. He was asking for their help, and they were glad to give it.

“Madeleine, I’m hoping I can count on you to become Minister of Finance in the future. I know you want to continue your education. Please know that the position is yours when and if you want it. I read your undergraduate thesis, and I want it to be one of the foundational documents for the 50 year strategic plan I’ve started developing. I’d like to work with your team of experts when you return to Oxford, if you’ll let me impose.”

Madeleine was stunned. He’d read her work and saw its real world potential. Her ideas would inspire Cordonians for generations to come.

<FIN>

#trr #trr bastien #trr madeleine

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missrkl · 3 years

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The Temple Chapter Seven

Rachel sat in her sofa at home feeling the comfort of the sofa welcoming her as she had just arrived home from the Elitist’s rehearsals. Kai had questioned her about how the team sounded on stage where she sat in the middle of the rows. She had a voice then as she shared her listening ears with him. Rachel felt like she had some power then, some say. Kai was the only one who ever dared speak to her, or rather be seen speaking to her. They didn’t speak all the time, it was very rare, but when it did happen Rachel always felt good about it. Although the heart pumping part wasn’t good, her blood pressure might have been through the roof with all that excitement. She could always feel the blood rush up to her head and she would feel like a coke bottle that’s been shaken and ready to burst. After eating her dinner and some lounging in front of the TV, Rachel opened up her bible to receive the next words Adon had for the gang. This is what Adon said “Now Jesus turned to address his disciples, along with the crowd that had gathered with them. “The religion scholars and Pharisees are competent teachers in God’s Law. You won’t go wrong in following their teachings on Moses. But be careful about following them. They talk a good line, but they don’t live it. They don’t take it into their hearts and live it out in their behavior. It’s all spit-and-polish veneer.”

‭‭Matthew‬ ‭23:1-3‬ ‭MSG‬‬

Rachel knew that was very true. The Elitists was one prime example where they talked the talk but never walked the walk. They would sprout wisdom of love and family and unconditional love, but in their ‘behaviour’ they would be the exact opposite. Judging, accusing, condemning, blaming, shaming, slandering, hating, segregating, labelling, blocking, controlling and denying. Rachel read how Adon described them “So practice and obey whatever they tell you, but don’t follow their example. For they don’t practice what they teach. They crush people with unbearable religious demands and never lift a finger to ease the burden. “Everything they do is for show. On their arms they wear extra wide prayer boxes with Scripture verses inside, and they wear robes with extra long tassels. And they love to sit at the head table at banquets and in the seats of honor in the synagogues. They love to receive respectful greetings as they walk in the marketplaces, and to be called ‘Rabbi.’”

‭‭Matthew‬ ‭23:3-7‬ ‭NLT‬‬

How The leaders and the Elitists and even some of the other factions moved to be glorified, loved being famous, loved having a title, loved being set up on pedestals by the rest of the members of The Temple. In Rachel’s mind, if anyone set you up on a pedestal the most likely following route would be to fall. What goes up must come down, most especially if it’s pride. A lot of them were seekers really, seekers of fame and fortune, or at least seekers of glory and high calling ministries, global ministerial fame was the goal of a chosen few. Rachel couldn’t stand it, they were taking worship away from their Deity Yah, this was an abomination to him. Rachel knew that a lot of them had forgotten that a ‘minister’ was really a servant as Adon had described in his Holy Book ““Don’t let anyone call you ‘Rabbi,’ for you have only one teacher, and all of you are equal as brothers and sisters. And don’t address anyone here on earth as ‘Father,’ for only God in heaven is your Father. And don’t let anyone call you ‘Teacher,’ for you have only one teacher, the Messiah. The greatest among you must be a servant. But those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”

‭‭Matthew‬ ‭23:8-12‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Everybody wanted to be a teacher, everybody wanted to teach, or have some other logistical power of authority within The Temple instead of the real authority in Adon’s kingdom of The Unseen. Mashiac Yeshua was Lord over all of things seen and The Unseen. Rachel couldn’t agree more with what Adon said next ““What sorrow awaits you teachers of religious law and you Pharisees. Hypocrites! For you shut the door of the Kingdom of Heaven in people’s faces. You won’t go in yourselves, and you don’t let others enter either. “What sorrow awaits you teachers of religious law and you Pharisees. Hypocrites! For you cross land and sea to make one convert, and then you turn that person into twice the child of hell you yourselves are!”

‭‭Matthew‬ ‭23:13, 15‬ ‭NLT‬‬

All of their small groups and discipleship trainings was to create miniature puppets of the leaders, someone they could control and manipulate, someone who wanted to be ‘exactly like them’ rather than ‘be themselves.’ Every single person that ever rose to high ranks in The Temple always seemed to hold a ‘same-same’ persona as their mentor. Like an exact replica image of themselves, and since themselves wasn’t perfect neither good, neither were their replicas.

Rachel continued reading ““What sorrow awaits you teachers of religious law and you Pharisees. Hypocrites! For you are so careful to clean the outside of the cup and the dish, but inside you are filthy—full of greed and self-indulgence! “What sorrow awaits you teachers of religious law and you Pharisees. Hypocrites! For you are like whitewashed tombs—beautiful on the outside but filled on the inside with dead people’s bones and all sorts of impurity. Outwardly you look like righteous people, but inwardly your hearts are filled with hypocrisy and lawlessness.”

‭‭Matthew‬ ‭23:25, 27-28‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Yes, these people were beautiful, their services rendered were outstanding that one cannot say their worship or presentation of worship is less than. But inside, their hearts were as ‘cold as ice.’ They mocked others behind their backs, they slandered those in other factions, they belittled The Voiceless because they were black, foreign and having a bad reputation in the past. They could never ‘let go’ or ‘forgive’ or even ‘forget’ even though Adon always forgave and forgot their own sinful behaviours. Rachel felt adamant at this injustice and could feel that fire burning within her again. Despite having such a fiery passion at them all, she knew she also played her part and so this time her anger was ‘holy anger’, anger that Adon Himself felt at all the little injustices that went on in that house where no eye could see, no ear could hear except Him because he was Yah.

Rachel continued reading ““O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones God’s messengers! How often I have wanted to gather your children together as a hen protects her chicks beneath her wings, but you wouldn’t let me. And now, look, your house is abandoned and desolate. For I tell you this, you will never see me again until you say, ‘Blessings on the one who comes in the name of the Lord!’”

‭‭Matthew‬ ‭23:37-39‬ ‭NLT‬‬

A lot of them had lost their ‘discernment’ and couldn’t tell those who ‘came in the name of the Lord’ to those ‘who came in their own names.’ Tragic.

Rachel read from same verses in a different and more modern angle ““You’re hopeless, you religion scholars and Pharisees! Frauds! You keep meticulous account books, tithing on every nickel and dime you get, but on the meat of God’s Law, things like fairness and compassion and commitment—the absolute basics!—you carelessly take it or leave it. Careful bookkeeping is commendable, but the basics are required. Do you have any idea how silly you look, writing a life story that’s wrong from start to finish, nitpicking over commas and semicolons? “You’re hopeless, you religion scholars and Pharisees! Frauds! You burnish the surface of your cups and bowls so they sparkle in the sun, while the insides are maggoty with your greed and gluttony. Stupid Pharisee! Scour the insides, and then the gleaming surface will mean something. “You’re hopeless, you religion scholars and Pharisees! Frauds! You’re like manicured grave plots, grass clipped and the flowers bright, but six feet down it’s all rotting bones and worm-eaten flesh. People look at you and think you’re saints, but beneath the skin you’re total frauds.”

‭‭Matthew‬ ‭23:23-28‬ ‭MSG‬‬

You know what else Adon said? He said “By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” John 13:35 ESV there definitely was no love in any of this. The segregation, the separation, the masks of religious activities minus the heart of Adon’s unconditional love and compassion, grace and mercy. Adon was described in his Holy Book as compassion and “The LORD is compassionate and merciful, slow to get angry and filled with unfailing love.” Psalm 103:8 NLT So if Adon didn’t treat the Voiceless and others like them that way, why were they? Exactly.

Rachel then turned to pray. She had to pray about all of these situations. Adon always talked about “But I say, love your enemies! Pray for those who persecute you!”

‭‭Matthew‬ ‭5:44‬ ‭NLT so Rachel did as she remembered her long time Mentor and spiritual dad Martin who told her ‘take everything to the Lord in prayer. This is your most powerful weapon. Do you know why there are quarrel’s and fights among you and jealousies and covetousness? Because you ask not, because you pray not. Instead you envy and be jealous and fight to get what you want, not bringing God into it. If you bring everything to God in prayer, involve God, then you will get what you want, you will bring His kingdom into it, you will bring Elysium down. This was known as ‘loving in the most excellent way.’ You can’t solve your problems without love, without Adon, without prayer. When we pray we are releasing divine energy into situations. We bring Adon into the scenes in our lives. Prayer is strong powerful able victorious. Prayer really works and is the most practical thing you can do to deal with daily situations you face. Then you can walk confidently with kingdom love knowing that Adon is in control. Adon is able to come through. If Adon commands us to be victorious and loving then we have that ability. What Rachel was connecting with was ‘wisdom from above,’ which is prayer, not ‘wisdom from the flesh.’ That was the only way to be confidence and victorious. Praying to Adon about it was the only way to bring His unconditional love into it and filling yourself with love to do it and all throughout it. This was Rachel’s job, this was her strength. This is how she won her fights. Down on her knees in prayer. No matter how long it took, she didn’t mind waiting.

References: https://youtu.be/ySD9yDhe200 - take it to the Lord in prayer by Bruce Atkinson

Matthew 23 both NLT and MSG versions.

And as an added bonus Don’t mind waiting by Juanita Bynum

https://youtu.be/_hEiGEfm2uE

youtube

#Youtube

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cutebutstillsingle · 3 years

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What to do when your boyfriend refuses to talk to you

My last ex boyfriend was somebody who I thought at the time I deeply loved and admired. Part of my heart will always have these feelings, perhaps. He was by no means perfect; but there was a lot that I loved about him.

In the past year, I’ve read a LOT of books that have shed a lot of light about...

why people behave the way they do towards others. And it has given me some insight on how to approach challenging communication in relationships.

In the case of me and my ex, JB, I’m the one who initiated ending that relationship because when Covid got really bad my whole entire life crashed and burned against my will. I felt really insecure, literally. I watched myself get laid off after working a 13-year arguably rare career in a very specific industry. And I didn’t know if I’d find another respectable job anytime soon & be able to support myself after watching what COVID did to the industry I was working in. I’ve been financially independent since I was 17 years old; so my survival is truly on me, 100%. (for the record I was right-- I did not find another full-time job in my industry for another 8 months).

Since I found myself jobless and in genuine survival mode, and noticed myself really stressing out, I thought “maybe this is not the best timing to be in a romantic relationship”. Reasonable enough, right?

I was also observing how my ex was responding to my unemployment stress and fear. He was hardly supportive or emotionally available. And I began to question if he was really the ideal partner in that regard. If he couldn’t hang emotionally for problem #1 of our relationship, it didn’t exactly bode well for long-term potential.

I have since learned, again, a LOT, about the human tendency to respond to others. And I now know that if I had to live that situation over again, I would have responded to his response to me in a completely different way and with a lot more maturity and understanding.

But ultimately, if I’m concerned about my basic survival, what the fuck am I doing in a romantic relationship, yenno? So I (foolishly and rashly, in retrospect) initiated ended things. While it may have indeed been rash, it was not a totally irrational train of thought.

But here’s what happened next.

What happened next is that he decided to curse me out, then stonewall me and completely refuse to speak to me any further. He completely refused to have an adult conversation, like a grown adult man; so that he could hear my entire perspective of about why I didn’t think it best to be in a relationship at that point. And how I was feeling, etc. At the time that I dumped him, I just dumped him and I didn’t really give any true details why. There’s a mistake I will never repeat again. But hey, live and learn.

But less than 24 hours later after most of my fear subsided (dumping him was like a pressure release valve on a lot of over-built anxiety), I dropped back down into my rational brain. And I regretted making such a quick and “final” decision.

The truth in actuality is that nothing is final until both people decide it’s final; and the truth is that a lot of couples take a break, take space, and get back together after they smooth some wrinkles out and think things through. I will say, sometimes you have to take some serious space from the things you love to fully realize just how much you actually love them.

In response to him stonewalling me, I responded by trying to write him a letter, which is what some dating coaches suggest a girl ought to do when her boyfriend refuses to hear her out. Well fuck that advice-- I don’t think he read the letter to this very day.

Dating coaches also recommend that you take a full 72 hours of no contact if any disagreements with your partner gets really emotionally intense.

STRATEGY 1: 72 HOURS OF SEPARATION + come back and discuss + are you forcing me to figure it out on my own?

I didn’t know that at the time. But having lived through my experience, I say give space up to 72 hours tops, and make a non-negotiable agreement that by day 4, the problem must be addressed, assuming no one is in legitimate danger; and your partner must be willing to communicate, or you will have no choice but to “figure something out on your own”. Especially if the solution involves continuing on in your relationship. This time-sensitivity should motivate him to respond accordingly if he’s smart. But sometimes they’re not the sharpest marbles in the drawer.

if the 72 hours rule doesn’t work, I recommend every female try this assuming your boyfriend is being an immature idiot and refuses to talk to you or listen to you. There is a lot of information online from dumb men to other men about how to manipulate or respond to women in dating scenarios. And trust me when I say that advice is not produced in a woman’s favor. So listen up, my sistren.

If your boyfriend refuses to hear you out & talk to you like a grown ass man after the 72 hour rule, you schedule an appointment with his mom, dad, sibling, his best friend, or someone else from within his inner circle of trust instead of trying to talk to him.

That’s right. Just bypass him altogether; if he’s not man enough to speak to you, and you remain dissatisfied but determined to try and solve problems and make your relationship last, move up the chain of command in his “emotional support family”, if you will, so that you can be heard like the respectable adult you deserve to be regarded as.

Let me be clear-- you are not welcomed to march in there like a psycho and go off-- you need to request a meeting with your person of choice, and remain calm, collected, and almost business-like. With gentle power, be determined to be heard. The goal is that anyone besides yourself, who genuinely cares about this guy, and has half a brain and heart, knows the full truth of the situation, not just his version of the truth. Because otherwise, all everyone on his side will ever hear is his victimized boo-hoo, woe-is-me or “fuck that bitch, she’s crazy” version of his filter on the actual truth.

Do note that this strategy may not work if his people are too immature, emotionally detached, or emotionally dysfunctional in any way. But if his people are reasonable, skip him & move up that household chain of communication.

At least then, you know you can walk away with your head held high, having been heard. And at least they will know you genuinely loved their son, you weren’t some crazy bitch, you actually cared about him, & you tried to fix shit.

There’s always the possibility that they will talk some sense into him later, or that you might learn to understand him better through the eyes of the people who love him and have known him his whole life if they offer you any insight.

There’s also the chance they may side with him & hate on you, too. I have a best friend whose mom told her own son (my friends boyfriend at the time) “Son, you don’t deserve a woman like (my friend)”. And it actually drove him to dump her because he had weak ego boundaries in the face of his overbearing mother.

But if a man’s emotional support posse sides with him in encouraging him to bail on the relationship, that’s your very clear answer that it’s time to walk away— they’re all nuts, or none of them like you, he’s weak and would have always chosen them over you instead of adding you to the family, and now you know the truth. Go where you’re celebrated and embraced.

If he wants to act like a boy, then what do you do? You do what kids are trained to do-- Tell on him. Tell his mama, or a sibling, or his best friend. Except you’re going to do it like a woman. With maturity, poise, and rationality. From the space of “I have a problem and I need the help of my boyfriend’s closest loved ones to fix it”.

If you have to go to his house to make this appointment, make it very clear that you’re not there to talk to him— you’re there to talk to his mother/sibling/father in private. Person to person, they should have the heart and mind to know that you’re there trying to defend a beautiful relationship with your boyfriend. For your boyfriend. And if your boyfriend said anything emotionally damaging to you in the process of this argument/ issue, now is also the time to tell the person that he said that shit, and that you didn’t appreciate it. Because chances are high that if he won't even talk to you, he probably didn’t tell any of his people the cruel and heartless shit he said to you. This is not a plea to make him look like the bad guy, which you can outright say. We all make mistakes and say things we don’t mean. but it’s just an opportunity to shed light on the truth. Because if things end between you two, chances are high there will be another girl coming to walk down the same path as you. And if he repeats the same mistakes with her, too, they’ll see the patterns.

So there it is, ladies. If your boyfriend is acting like an immature jerk, and won’t talk to you, talk to his people.

#boyfriend problems #relationship problems #communication #maturity #why am I still single #relationship advice #problem solving #he won't talk to me #best friend #family #girlfriend #boyfriend #partner #the crew #his people

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firelord-frowny · 7 years

Text

stranger things spoilers (and also extensive spoilers for season 5 of the show 24???)

WHY THE FUCK DID BOB NEWBY HAVE TO DIE???? :( :( :(

I LOVE SEAN ASTIN SO MUCH

I’M SO UPSET :(

The last time I saw Sean Astin in something, it was in season 5 of 24. And his character died THE. MOST. tragic death. Honestly like, out of all 10 seasons of 24/24 spinoffs, his death is the ONE scene that I will always have to skip over because it just makes me so sad. :(

In 24, he played a character named Lyn McGil; a young, successful fella sent to oversee the Counter Terrorism Unit. But because of his youth, he has a hard time being respected by his older subordinates. He tries to compensate for this by being alarmingly harsh; he’s quick to fire people, raises his voice when someone questions him, and requires that people call him “Mr. McGil” despite the fact that people at CTU usually operate on a first-name basis. Despite all this, he’s actually a super sweet and super dependable fella who just wants the best for everyone and i loved him, ok???

So, Lynn has this sister who’s a downtrodden drug addict and she calls him begging for money. He’s all, “ugh fine, meet me across the street from my job.”

So he goes to meet her, and begs her to see a doctor, and promises to pay for all the expenses, etc, but then BAM, some dude comes and punches him out, and beats him up, and steals his wallet and stuff.

When Lynn goes back to CTU, he doesn’t tell anyone about being robbed because he’s Too Embarrassed. :(

The situation at CTU winds up being Too Dire for him to handle, and he sorta collapses under pressure and flies off the handle, and one of the other characters ~very dramatically~ relieves him of his command.

Now, unbeknownst to anyone else, Lynn’s mugging was a plot by the terrorists to get his entry card for CTU, so they can reprogram it and have a terrorist use it to plant a nerve gas canister in CTU. CTU realizes this too late, and by the time they try to evacuate the building, the gas is already being released. :(

As people start dropping like flies, only a few key characters are able to find safety in sealed ~lockdown zones~ throughout the building. Lynn has found refuge in a room with a security guard. The rest of the characters are in 2 other rooms.

They discover that the nerve gas has a corrosive agent that is quickly eating away at the protective seals, and if they don’t find a way to flush the gas out of the building, they’ll all die!

It’s discovered that they can turn on the ventilation fans to blow all the tainted air out, but a program is running on one of the computers that’s preventing them from executing the actions. Someone needs to go to the computer and close out of the program. The main character (Jack Bauer) attempts to do this, intending to make his way to another safe area once he’s done, but finds that he can’t get to the computer from where he is.

The only person who has access to the computer is Lynn! He can get there from where he is! Except there are no safe zones close enough for him to make it to once he’s finished! :( So basically, he (and the security guard he’s with!) winds up having to sacrifice himself to save everyone else! :( So, he holds his breath and runs to the computer room, closes out of the program, and then runs back to the room with the security guard, and they both hold their breath for as long as they can, but then they can’t anymore... and they have seizures and Die and it’s so so so so so so sad. :( :( :(

And I THOUGHT that now, in Stranger Things, I might get to see Lynn McGill I mean Sean Astin I mean Bob Newby get a chance to Live Happily Ever After, but NOPE. :( HE DIE. IN A VERY SIMILAR, HEROICALLY SAD FASHION. :(

I’M. SO. UPSET. :(

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babycoulson · 7 years

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Out of the Game

We're stuck above the clouds for the next few hours," Reyes tempted. "Might as well enjoy ourselves. We could make a few more memories to add to your collection. What do you think?

"I think Ward already knows you'll have to eliminate May from the equation to have a chance which gives him about 20 seconds to get to her first," he said.

He threw Reyes down to the ground to get her out of his way. She was quick to follow him down the stairs to the lounge area of the Bus, where they found a soldier being subdued by Ward, Skye struggling against the hold of a soldier, and you, an unconscious heap on the floor, your head bleeding from where a soldier had slammed you into the wall with the butt of his gun. On the screen in she subroom was live footage of a soldier holding a knife up to Fitz's neck.

"We were allies," Phil said, hurt by Reyes's betrayal. "We had history. When did you decide to throw that away?"

"As soon as I saw your team," she answered.

"This is my fault," Fitz purported sullenly. "Should have learned kung fu."

Everyone was cuffed to the edge of the cargo hold so that, should it open, you would all be sucked out into open air. Skye, Simmons, Fitz and Ward were all conscious; the unconscious forms of you and May bookended the four, May on Skye's end and you on Ward's.

"Oh, yeah, but I shouldn't have pushed you into the field in the first place. You weren't ready," Simmons countered.

"Uh, we--we weren't ready," Fitz corrected.

"It was my job to make a proper threat assessment," Ward tried. "And it's no mistake that they took out (Y/N) before she could do anything."

"This wouldn't have happened if Agent May wasn't on the stick," Skye concluded. "She would have busted out some of her ninja know-how."

"Agent May? No. No, no. She transferred from administration," Fitz said. Simmons nodded in confirmation.

"Well, I've seen her destroy a guy, so..." Skye shrugged. Everyone turned to Ward so that he could settle the little debate.

He sighed. "You've heard of the Cavalry?" he asked.

"Yeah," Simmons said.

"Yeah," Fitz reciprocated. "Everyone at the academy talks about--" The eyes of the scientists widened in understanding.

"She's the Cavalry?" they inquired together, excited.

"I told you never to call me that," May groaned.

"I can't believe it! Oh, we're sure to get out of here now," Simmons cheered. She looked over Skye to May and asked, rather like addressing Siri, "Um, how do we get out of here?"

"Can't go through the doors," she began. "They're bolted, tied to the pressurization lines. You two geniuses have nothing?"

"Yeah, well, it's hard to concentrate in these intense situations," Fitz defended Simmons and himself.

"Hey. Don't freeze up," Ward encouraged him. "Take a breath. You don't need to come up with the whole solution. Just part of it." He looked over at Skye. "Right?"

"Yeah. Pieces solving a puzzle," she smiled back.

"Okay. First, we need ideas," Simmons initiated. "How do we get up to Coulson?"

"No sign of life from (Y/N) yet?" May asked.

"Well, she's breathing, but other than that, no," Ward supplied.

"Why do you ask?" Fitz queried. "I know that Ward said they took her out for a reason, but what exactly is that reason?"

"For one, she's an expert tactician," May answered. "For two, I trained her."

"I thought that she was trained by Romanoff," Ward said.

"That was after she got better than me." Four heads whipped to stare at who they knew as (Y/N) Coulson--the goofy, awkward, slightly immature, and extremely young agent of SHIELD--with much more respect.

If you had been conscious, you would have rolled your eyes and made a comment about how May always went easy on you, anyway, which wasn't true in the least. When you had been barely fourteen, she had honestly given her all in trying to beat you, but, giving your all yourself, you had been able to consistently floor her. She and your father had been able to pull some strings to get Agent Romanoff, the Black Widow herself, to commit some time every week to you. You still kept in contact, even though you hadn't seen her since she had come to your father's funeral. When you weren't out on a mission, you offered your overqualified self to teach new recruits some basics in hand-to-hand.

"Okay, let's bounce around some ideas here," Skye pushed. "Let's assume that we get free and take out that guard. What do we do next?"

"We need to get those doors open, and to do that, we need to reset the pressurization," Fitz said.

The group bounced ideas around, each growing more impossible and dangerous. The scientist duo shot down most of the impossible ideas, Skye the dangerous ones.

"What if we activated the 0-8-4 using one of the dwarves?" Skye finally suggested. "We can open up the vents and get it in that way. The 0-8-4 will go off, probably causing some pretty extensive damage to the plane, and that'll reset the pressurization."

"The dwarves are in the lab," Fitz said. "We can't do that.

"Then I'll drive the van into the lab doors like I said earlier," May asserted.

"Well, that's clearly the worst idea we've heard yet," Simmons scoffed.

"But it could work," Skye insisted.

"Reyes is gonna kill us the minute we land, regardless, and blame it on rebels," Ward pointed out. "This way, we have a fighting chance. I'll take it. What's first?"

"We can't get upstairs without going in the lab," Fitz began.

"And the only way to release the lab doors is from upstairs," Simmons finished.

Skye huffed. "The first thing is, we're tied to the cargo door, so unless you can--" She stopped in horror at a disgusting noise coming from May's direction.

"What the heck was that?" Fitz grimaced.

"Her wrist," Ward sighed.

In a matter of seconds, May had gotten out of her restraints and snuck up to the balcony-type deck over the cargo hold. The soldier acting as a guard made his round to look at his prisoners, only to find that May had gone missing. Before he had time to ask where she had gone, the agent had flipped him over the railing. He smacked on the floor ten feet below, unconscious. May jumped down and landed next to him, then popped her wrist back.

"What's next?" she asked. Everyone sat, stunned at her quick execution of getting the guard off of their backs. As soon as everyone was free, they realized that you were still out of the game.

"We probably need to find somewhere safe for (Y/N)," Skye said. "I don't think it would be very good for her to be out in the open where anything could happen to her."

"Just put her in the corner for now, then we'll put her in the van," May ordered.

After you were placed carefully in the back corner, May prepared the van and everyone circled up.

"Okay, we're sure, right? Everyone's sure?" Skye checked.

"We're all on board," Simmons agreed.

"Yeah, let's do this fast," Fitz nodded.

"No turning back. No freezing up," Ward added.

"Because if we do, then," Fitz began.

"All of us die," Ward concluded.

"We know," Simmons quavered.

"All right," Ward said, satisfied that no one was backing out.

May revved the engine of the van loudly. "You guys talk a lot," she complained. Everyone hastily moved out of the way so that she could ram the van into the doors. The glass in the doors shattered and flew all over the floor, and the doors themselves were completely knocked out of place.

Fitz quickly found the case the dwarves were in while Simmons undid the vent. Skye and Ward found the equipment necessary to keep everyone inside the plane, then tied everyone to a line. A dwarf was sent up through the vent, and all that was left to do was wait.

"SHIELD 6-1-6, we have radar contact. Requesting confirmation on a change in course. Over."

Reyes pulled a gun from her belt and readied it for fire. "Answer it, or they all learn what a 30,000 foot drop feels like," she commanded Phil. He remained silent.

"Agent Coulson, are you there? You have course confirmation. You are cleared direct to the Slingshot," the agent on the other side said. Still, he said nothing, but noticed one of Fitz's drones making its way to the 0-8-4. He hastily rewrapped his bindings that he had undone around his hand. "Agent Coulson? Everything all right up there? We heard you had a little dustup on the ground."

"Yeah, we're all good," he finally spoke up. "It's gonna be blue skies from here on out."

"Simmons, forget what I said before," Fitz said. "This is the moment that we regret." He pressed a button on his control screen, and the dwarf activated the 0-8-4.

It fired a blue laser that opened a gigantic hole in the side of the plane.

Immediately, a soldier was swept out into open air. Phil was glad that he had hold of the rope that had recently had him tied to a post; it was the only thing keeping him in the plane.

The doors to the cargo hold unlocked.

"It worked!" Skye rejoiced.

"The dropping cabin pressure released the doors," Simmons explained, thrilled.

"I'll take care of the soldiers, you guys get to the 0-8-4," Ward ordered.

"And Coulson?" Fitz asked.

"Let's hope he can handle himself," Ward shrugged.

He opened the door, immediately faced with a soldier struggling against the pull of the wind. It would have been doing the soldier better to have dropped the gun he was holding and held onto the couch with both hands, but it apparently suited him better to shoot at the agents. Ward rushed the soldier, disarming him and belting his arms to the couch. Another soldier attacked, but Ward kicked his face and knocked him to the ground.

"Go now! Find the 0-8-4!" Ward shouted to everyone else as yet another soldier attacked.

May rushed to the cockpit and fought the soldier for control of the plane.

"Coulson!" Reyes yelled as she lost control and was nearly swept out of the plane.

Phil caught her arms just in time, shouting back, "Hold on! It's okay!"

Simmons found the 0-8-4 lodged in the wall. Grunting loudly, she managed to pull it out.

"We've got it, reel us back in!" Skye called to Fitz as a piece of paper flew into her face.

"I've got you!" Fitz shouted back.

Upon realizing that the paper was a safety pamphlet, Skye threw it aside and unbuckled herself from the safety line tying her to Fitz and Simmons.

"What are you doing?! We need your help!" Simmons scolded her incredulously.

"Trust me!" Skye demanded.

Phil and Reyes had inched their way to relative safety. Using the cord that had previously bound him, Phil tied Reyes's wrists to a pole. "Don't want you to know what a 30,000 foot drop feels like," he explained passive-aggressively.

May finished taking care of the soldier in the cockpit just in time to pull it out of its steep dive. However, the soldier decided he wasn't done, and grabbed a fistful of May's hair. It was his mistake, he soon learned, as she smashed his face into the dashboard, then kneed his head into the wall.

Ward was still battling the last of the soldiers.

Skye pulled something large and yellow out of a safety compartment.

A soldier had grabbed onto Fitz's and Simmons's safety line. "Cut him loose!" Simmons shouted. They quickly unbuckled themselves from the line, freeing the soldier and sending him flying out of the hole in the plane. Ward grabbed his shirt just in time, keeping him inside.

"Hold on!" Ward yelled.

The soldier was working his way back to safety, holding onto Ward's arm for dear life, but his shirt ripped. He didn't have the strength to keep hold, and was pulled out of the plane.

Skye had successfully unboxed the large yellow thing she'd found, and pressed a button for it to inflate. She lost hold, but it fully inflated into a large raft just the perfect size to cover the hole in the plane just in time; Ward had lost his grip on the pole and almost flew out of the plane, hitting the raft just as it covered the hole.

One last soldier weakly reached for his gun, but Phil stepped on his wrist and punched him in the face.

All was well now, with the soldiers and Reyes down, and the hole in the plane covered by the inflatable raft.

Skye helped Ward up, explaining, out of breath, "I read the safety pamphlet."

"You might be the first," he remarked.

"No other way in, huh?" Coulson asked as the agents congregated around the bar. He set a glass down on it. "I was just starting to warm up to this place."

Skye grabbed a coaster from under the bar and placed the glass on top of it.

"The 0-8-4 is cooling and stable," Fitz reported. "But we should call HQ and get it to the Slingshot as soon as possible."

Phil turned to Reyes, who had sat up, but still had her wrists bound. "Told you they were good," he said smugly.

#phil coulson #dad phil coulson #agents of shield #Agent Coulson #marvel's agents of SHIELD #agents of SHIELD season 1 #shield #agents of shield x reader #melinda may #jemma simmons #leo fitz #grant ward #skye #(Y/N) coulson

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stormcloudquill · 7 years

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The Elementals

Now, I know I’ve made Element-based OCs before, but these guys are pretty special, not just magical boys/girls, but something unique to them and their storyline. Here are the Elementals:

1. Sky Ramirez. Sky is the new boy in school who moves in with his Abuelo from another town. Quiet, serious, and not very social, he finds it difficult to find new friends. But with some help from Abuelo (who, by chance, owns a popular antique store), Sky makes new and true friends whilst discovering a family legacy. He is giving the Amethyst Cloud, which allows him to become...

Aero, the Elemental of Air. As Aero, his insecurities and anxieties leave him, allowing him to be as free as a bird. He can fly and primarily attacks physically, but can send razor-sharp winds that can slice through metal. He acts primarily as the team leader, but will follow his teammates if they have a better plan.

2. Blaze Armand. Blaze is a happy, spirited and faithful girl loyal to those around her. She’s fiercely passionate in everything that she does, giving it 100%, and as such is in the top of most of her classes. Due to being on the school’s welcoming committee, Blaze is the first to reach out and get to know him. She loves hanging out with all of her friends, especially with the awesome powers they receive. Blaze herself is given the Ruby Flame, which allows her to change into...

Pyra, the Elemental of Fire. As Pyra, her quick thinking and bright ideas grow tenfold, allowing her to work through even the most difficult problems in mere minutes. She becomes twice as energetic and hardworking, and shouts advice to her teammates when they need it most. She primarily attacks by shooting flames, but has a flaming punch strong enough to incinerate forests (not that she’d ever do that). She is the team strategist and second in command.

3. River Lewis. River is a happy guy, through and through, on and off the field. He’s a team player and loves working with others. Though he can get excited, he generally has a level head and can keep calm under lots of pressure. He’s second in class, right after Blaze, but it doesn’t bother him. When Blaze sees Sky going into the antique store, River is the one who suggests they try to talk to him. Though he loves his new powers, he understands how dangerous they can be if not controlled. He’s giving the Sapphire Raindrop, which allows him to transform to...

Hydro, the Elemental of Water. Hydro doesn’t have a lot to say, only interjecting his own words when the other Elementals get out of hand. His physical capabilities increase, especially his swimming. He primarily attacks using water, but can pack a devastating kick that can flood whole cities. Since he doesn’t have a lot to say, he’s more of a follower than a leader, but is not afraid to let Pyra and Aero know if they’re being stupid.

Emerald Laine. Emerald is an outdoorsy girl who refuses to accept the fate of being stuck inside anywhere. A stubborn girl by nature and a curious girl by heart, she will willingly spend hours in the forest behind her house, in all sorts of weather. She’s very intelligent but easily distracted, and often needs Blaze and River to help her catch up on lessons. After they all receive their pendants, Emerald is the first to suggest that Sky joins them and hang out for the day. Emerald loves the fact that her powers make her even more in touch with nature than ever. She’s given the Emerald Leaf, which allows her to become...

Terra, the Elemental of Earth. Terra can communicate with all sorts of plants and animals. Though as willful and free spirited as ever, she becomes more gentle when handling more delicate species. Make her mad, though, and the best of luck to you! She mainly acts as a translator for the Elementals, and is too reckless at times, but will always consider what’s best for the earth when attacking.

5. Aster Nakamura. Aster is an enigma when he first appears. He’s even quieter and less social than Sky, but more like he’s hiding something. In reality, he was created by the Astral Lord, to disguise himself as a human and gain the Elementals’ trust. His true, astral form looked like this:

He pretended to be friendly with the Elementals to release the Astral Giants, only revealing himself to be the Astral Lord’s creation after the fourth one is released. However, when he is forsaken by his “father” and taken in by Sky, Abuelo, and the other Elementals, he goes up against the Astral Lord and over powers him. in doing so, he earns the right to wield the Rainbow Star, which turns him into...

Astro, the Elemental of Ether. Astro is a joyous, free-thinking, and peaceful Elemental, who cares about the Astral Beasts as well as his fellow teammates. He’s generally happier, as the Elemental form is closest to his truest and most comfortable form. He regrets all that he had done as the Astral Lord’s pawn. His attacks are a mix of elemental and physical.

Other Characters (not drawn):

Miguel Ramirez (Abuelo): Miguel is Sky’s maternal grandfather and current guardian, as well as the previous Elemental of Air. When a dream lets him know that the next generation of Elementals is grouping, he waits until they’re all together and gives them the Elemental Pendants (excluding the Rainbow Star, which he did not have). He also is the keeper of the Book of Elements and acts as a role model and teacher for the Elementals. When Aster ends up homeless and alone, he willingly opens his heart and home for the young man. Due to him being basically everyone’s grandfather, everyone just calls him “Abuelo”

Takashi Nakamura (The Astral Lord): The corrupted Elemental of Ether who refused to give up his pendant and powers when the time came. Instead, he created the Astral Giants, combining his power with the elemental power of the Zodiac Stones, to take the other pendants. Most of his power had to be sealed away, as did each of the Giants. When the four Giants were unleashed, his full power would be restored. Despite Aster originally seeing him as a father, he only saw Aster as a creation, and not a real being. When his power was fully restored though, he couldn’t make Aster disappear. A grudge grew in his heart when Aster earned the Rainbow Star.

The Zodiac Pixies: tiny elemental pixies born from the Zodiac Stones. Each gives their respective Elemental a new power, and can combine into the Elemental Wands, which allow the Elementals to cast powerful individual finishers (and a REALLY powerful combined one). Four: Taurus, Scorpio, Libra, and Leo, were corrupted into the Astral Giants. (Note: the pixies only appear after Aster becomes the Elemental of Ether). The pixies are:

Aries (Girl, Fire): Flaming Blaze (surrounds Pyra in a bonfire that boosts her speed and power)

Taurus (Boy, Earth): Deafening Charge (Allows Terra to use the power of the Bull; creates fissure in her wake that traps enemies before finisher)

Gemini (1 Girl & 1 Boy, Air): Duplication Confusion (Replicates Aero hundreds of times over, giving him an advantage over the enemy)

Cancer (Boy, Water): Freezing Blades (Allows Hydro to form weapons of ice)

Leo (Boy, Fire): Royal Pride (Allows Pyra to use the power of the Lion; burns enemies into submission before finisher)

Virgo (Girl, Earth): Venus Innocence (Makes Terra irresistibly beautiful to draw enemies in for the attack)

Libra (Girl, Air): Total Justice (Allows Aero to use the power of Balance; creates a windstorm that traps enemies in their past misdeed before finisher)

Scorpio (Boy, Water): Tidal Shockwave (Allows Hydro to use the power of the Scorpion; washes over enemies and sweeps them off their feet before finisher)

Sagittarius (Boy, Fire): Burning Accuracy (Allows Pyra to shoot fire arrows that do not miss)

Capricorn (Girl, Earth): Diamond Toughness (Makes Terra temporarily invincible)

Aquarius (Boy, Air): Stormy Weather (Allows Aero to temporarily control a thunderstorm)

Pisces (Girl, Water): Sirenic Beauty (Turns Hydro into a merman and allows him to speak with sea life)

Items

The Elemental Pendants:

Five magical jewels that grant the power to control the elements. When released, they will come back to one of the previous Elementals and remain dormant until the new generation arrives. They will then let the Keeper know through dreams and other signs until they are given to their rightful owners. The include the Amethyst Cloud, the Ruby Flame, the Sapphire Raindrop, the Emerald Leaf, and the Rainbow Star

The Zodiac Stones:

Twelve elemental stoned imbued with the combined powers of Ether and one of the four other elements. They can be used to power up or defeat the Elemental of matching element should the need arise. They can also be corrupted into dangerous beings by the Elementals they match.

The Elemental Wands:

After the Zodiac Pixies reveal themselves, three of matching element combine to make the Elemental Wand matching their Elemental. This excludes Astro, whose wand only appears when the power of of the four other wands combines. Appearance-wise, they looked like their Elemental, with a jewel matching the Elemental Pendant at the tip.

Windy Wand: Grants Tornado Spin Punch

Fiery Wand: Grants Supernova Left Hook

Watery Wand: Grants Tsunami Roundhouse

Earthy Wand: Grants Landslide Drop Kick

Starry Wand: Grants Galaxy Body Slam

Trivia

Being an Elemental is only supposed to be temporary. If one stays an Elemental too long, the power will twist their mind.

Abuelo and Takashi were once teammates, along with Daisy, Xerxes, and Nora.

Takashi, after his initial defeat, uses his leftover power to convince his former teammates to take back the pendants (he even turns Abuelo’s joy for his grandson into jealousy)

Though Takashi created him physically, Aster has memories of a time before being created.

Aster is the only Elemental not to be born human, or even by conventional means.

Sky has a troubled past with severe PTSD, resulting in his reclusive and distant personality.

Blaze has a “disappointing” older brother, so works twice as hard not to fall in the same impression.

River has three severely violent older brothers, one of whom is in prison for a life sentence.

Emerald had a twin sister who died of an incurable condition at a young age, causing her to ty to live life to its fullest.

Sky, from their first meeting, has a crush on Aster, and it develops into a mutual attraction as they begin to understand each other and their similarities.

River has a crush on Blaze but doesn’t know how to tell her. Blaze, on the other hand, has a crush on him and doesn’t know how to tell him.

Emerald knows about both crushes and finds it hilarious, but has been asked by both not to tell the other.

Emerald asexual and is in a happy, non-sexual relationship with a girl named Leah.

Here are the Elementals (transformed and non-transformed) all together

9 notes · View notes