#is that why the Entity is doing this slowly? as a strategy? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

noneatnonedotcom · 3 years

Text

concept: TOTAL WAR RWBY

in a universe where the great war destroyed every kingdom and caused a collapse of civilization you play as one of the five remaining peoples of remnant as you seek to (re) forge a kingdom that can stand the test of the grimm tide

KINGDOMS

Vale: led by Ruby Rose

ruby's kingdom of vale focuses on light cavalry and ranged. her own special abilites as a general are

SILVER EYED WARRIOR: grimm are weakened greatly within her aura and can even be outright destroyed if the differance in power between her and them is great enough

OPTIMISTIC HEROISM: lower unhappiness in area's controlled by ruby means that there's less Grimm to fight overall meaning lower garisons and more money spent on the main armies

unique units

Wood Runners: long bowmen with added range and melee combat stats equal to melee infantry. light armor means that you should keep them in cover though as well as being a juicy target for cavalry. added range over most normal archers and better armor piecing with their arrows makes them a powerful, unit that can last in melee as well specializing in Anti heavy infantry

Dire corgis: large war dogs with aura unlocked. look like giant corgis because they are giant corgis. great for running off ranged units and light cav. weak to spears, though their aura lets them hang around in combat longer than most would think. they do rely on the charge bonus though and can't be controlled once they're let off the leash. can be called back to their handlers though to be repositioned

FOCUS OF CAMPAIGN: ruby's main focus is to retake the cities and villages of vale that were lost to the grimm tide. your main strategy should be to build up on patch while the rest of vale falls to the grimm before striking out. your main advantage is against the grimm not people after all. and your added happyness means that you can spend more on your armies to put in your frontlines rather than worrying about protecting your rear (ruby's got a great rear guys) your main rival will be

UNITED TRIBES OF VALE: led by Yang Xiao-Long

yang's all about shock infantry and charge bonuses. using them to break the morale of enemy armies her special abilities are

HOT STUFF: human morale lowers around her and buildings catch fire in her aura when she's in combat. she's too hot to handle

PROBABLY WASN'T IMPORTANT ANYWAYS: still recruits units and receives money from buildings that are burned down. though at a slightly reduced rate

UNIQUE UNITS

Bandits: replaces mob, cheap units that gain charge bonus when next to another bandit unit. burn down buildings when nearby. no formations though and can't brace for charges so avoid cav. low morale, they're bandits they're not sticking around when shit goes south

berzerkers: shock infantry, cause dread in enemies lowering morale. chance of going berserk which makes them unbreakable but uncontrollable may even attack allies if they're the closest unit. REALLY FUCKING STRONG ON THE ATTACK! weak to ranged

yang's campaign is all about uniting vale as a tributary state to the tribe. you can recruit units from burned down buildings and still get money so spread like a wildfire and try to show your baby sis that it's safer under your protection. be aware that grimm are gonna be a huge problem for you so keep some bandits as a garrison in every village to deal with grimm.

"some of you may die... but I don't really give a shit about you" - Yang to the bandits probably

vale is a mix of American and French culture. so yeah kinda like Louisiana plantations but with more anime

Vaccuo: led by Jaune Arc

jaune specializes in pike infantry with heavy armor and heavy knights on horseback. he's set up to be a slugger with his special abilities

AURA AMP: allied units in jaune's aura slowly recover health and have increased stats (including armor)

SCION OF HEROES: the effects of chivalry are doubled and you gain it faster.

UNIQUE UNITS

shining knights: heavy knights with aura and mounts also in aura and armor. fuck you, fuck the guy behind you, and fuck the guy behind him I'm coming through. very expensive high morale and capabilities

rainbow guard: heavy pike infantry that proudly protect the standard of the arc family. give extra morale to those around them. fuck you they're not breaking. if there's even one guy left they're still fighting.

jaune's campaign is centered around taking control of the deserts and jungles of vaccuo from your origins in the mountains and hill country of the arc territories.

vaccuo's culture is like Scotland mixed with the middle east. fiercely independent people with a very strong sense of honor. also fuck you they'd rather die then be seen as a coward so you'd better just fucking kill them all. AND FUCK TAXES! so jaune has his work cut out for him, but he's in it for the long haul

MINSTRAL: LED BY PYRRHA NIKOS

pyrrha's all about personal combat and single entity units

INVINCIBLE GIRL: pyrrha herself is fucking busted and everyone wants to be like her. single entity units like huntsmen or companions are stronger and get more XP from battles

AN OFFER THEY CAN'T REFUSE: if pyrrha has more military power than someone they have improved relations with her. peacefully annexing people is possible this way. though this can cause a problem if you expand too fast

UNIQUE UNITS

pyrrha's guard: heavy spear infantry made in the image of spartans. slow but they decimate cav outlast ranged and out fight most over infantry. but they are fucking slow and hate being flanked where their phalanx will not work.

nora and ren: two unit entity, stealth shock is the name of the game ren sneaks them in close to anything even grimm. nora deals a fuck ton of damage all at once that can't be blocked by armor and shatters units. you only get one though sorry the world isn't ready for two noras

while sino/Greco/Roman culture makes martial ability the most important, however, only champions and highly expensive units can be trained. your low-level fighters (I.e most of your army) will have to be mercenaries. still with enough champions, you can take on most things so that's good

SCHNEE DUST COMPANY led by Weiss Schnee

atlas is all about dust weapons. a necessity because of but funded by Weiss's special abilities

COMPANY MEN: units require less upkeep cost

WEISSY: she's kinda a bitch, -50 to all diplomatic relations -75 to faunas factions

UNIQUE UNITS

WEISS GUARD: dust rifle units, slow to reload but longer range than normal dust muskets. dust round in general deal moral damage greater than almost any other units in the game (only yang's berzerkers and blake's beast-men scare people more)

BIG GUNS: 24LBS rifled field guns. or cannons rather for those who don't know the difference. fire straight and have an effective range of 1500 feet. highly accurate and with enough kick to drop even the largest of grimm

atlas and the SDC by extension are based on German and Russian culture (mainly german now that the nobles are gone) and have their main campaign focused on dealing with internal divisions and grimm. their cheaper units lends themselves to using dust arms rather than melee but bare in mind they suck in melee as a result. still, weiss is of the opinion that if you can kill your enemies from the comfort of your home and simply bombard them into submission or dust, why wouldn't you?

Menagerie led by Blake belladonna

menagerie must toe the line between animal and man, utilizing special abilities like

SAVAGE REPUTATION: the effects of dread are doubled and you gain dread faster

CUNNING HUNTERS: blake has bonuses to stats and the stats of her army while ambushing or attacking at night. doing both will make the bonuses stack

UNIQUE UNITS:

white fang infantry: can deploy anywhere light armor but use spears so cav has a hard time with them

NINJA: can deploy anywhere, inspire dread, use grenades flung from slings. capable of vanishing or using smoke bombs to lower enemy stats in melee for a short time

menagerie is a mix between Australian and Polynesian cultures but they are relatively new on the world stage. having been granted the island of menagerie in the brief time before the collapse of vale after the great war. the fuanas population outside of menagerie is very low as a result of the collapse and you have to ask yourself "what will you do to ensure the survival of your people?"

menagerie is a mix between Australian and Polynesian cultures but they are relatively new on the world stage. having been granted the island of menagerie in the brief time before the collapse of vale after the great war. the funas population outside of menagerie is very low as a result of the collapse and you have to ask yourself "what will you do to ensure the survival of your people?"

concepts.

chivalry: is a meter in the game, doing honorable actions increases chivalry. making formal declarations of war and waiting a turn to attack, not doing night battles, honoring alliances and calls to arms. generally making combat harder for yourself will be seen as chivalrous. the higher your chivalry the bigger bonus you will have to morale in battles and to diplomatic interactions.

dread: dread is the opposite of chivalry and is gained by doing unchivalrous actions. it will cause the enemy to start with lower moral and cause everyone (including yourself) to lose moral more quickly. this can be really helpful against strong enemies that have better weapons than you. it will also cause diplomatic relations to be harder. using dust muskets or cannons will cause dread but only in small amounts the more you use them the more dread you'll cause

post-campaign content

finishing your kingdom will open up international diplomacy and will allow you to start a campaign in another kingdom. each with different results based on the person you're playing

jaune can marry the ruler of another kingdom giving him their special abilities (jaune can only get dust muskets and cannons after he marries Weiss btw)

Pyrrha may offer protection to the others and gains their general unit for her own army

yang may extort tribute from them and treat them as the tributaries she had before gaining access to their unique units. ruby may offer bonds of friendship and do the same

blake may create embassies and get faunas versions of each unit (they can fight at night) as well as improve her chivalric reputation with each campaign (basically lets you gain the bonuses of dread without the negatives)

and Weiss may open up branch offices and have each character as a leader under her (you basically play the official campaign as the character you choose but with access to Weiss's abilities and units now as well)

you may only do one campaign at a time. so if you're jaune you have to subjugate yang and ruby in vale before you can try to marry weiss. you gotta finish what you started before you move on basically

on each map, there's an ancient grimm. this is a massive single-unit entity and has an army of grimm backing it. defeating this grimm will grant you a major bonus to happiness and prevent further grimm from showing up later.

single unit entities are very powerful but get weaker as their health goes down. their health will recover with time though

if you finish every campaign as a single character you unlock the grimm tide. salem has taken notice of you and wants you gone before ozma has a chance to bring you to his side. grimm will spawn every turn based on the unhappiness of cities in every kingdom you will wage a war all over the world against the grimm and try to hold on as unique and powerful generals lead hords of powerful grimm to attack you. these hords will even be supplemented by the grimm attracted to your unhappiness to keep your pops happy!

if you beat every general salem herself will come to take you out. she has an unending army that will constantly get reinforcement from offscreen every time you kill off a unit and she's a capable commander in her own right with powerful magic that will prevent you from camping too much (she's out of practice so she can only cast a spell every once in a while, be sure to move when you see the strange glow) if you can manage to get your character to her through her army you'll win and defeat her once and for all

@weatherman667 don't know if you play total war but had an idea for total war rwby and wanted to know your thoughts on the various kingdoms as lead by the main characters.

anyone else who sees this and has suggestions go nuts with it. it's just a bit of fun at the end of the day. how would you incorporate a character? what would their unique units be?

113 notes · View notes

desertrose3000 · 3 years

Text

Why Puzzleshipping

Why do I love puzzleshipping so much? Well, for a couple of reasons. Number one is the progression of the relationship between Yugi and Atem. In the beginning, Yugi isn't even aware that there's another mind inhabiting his body. As events unfold, he gradually becomes aware that there is an entity inside him and initially is rather frightened of it, as its actions up to that point have bordered on malevolent. Slowly, Yugi begins to "tame" the entity, first by showing his courage to the spirit. The first time he does this is when he tells Dark Bakura to send his soul into the Monster World RPG, thus allowing his Other to take over. Yugi and his Other meet for the first time and his Other acknowledges his courage. The next pivotal step is when Yugi forcibly removes his Other from controlling his body when his Other was about to kill Kaiba to win a Duel Monsters match at Pegasus' castle. This was the first time Yugi had asserted his will against his Other and I believe this gave the spirit pause to consider that Yugi was more than just his host body. Finally, we get the first time Yugi and the spirit work together, during the duel with Pegasus. Other Yugi had been having a tough time in the duel, with Pegasus' Millennium Eye allowing him to read the Other's mind with ease, thus sealing his strategies. When Yugi suggested switching minds back and forth, the Other came to respect Yugi, not only as his host, but also as his partner in the duel, and thus began referring to Yugi as "aibou" or "partner." From that point on, the two grew closer and closer, working in tandem, suggesting ideas to each other and taking turns dueling, until they ran like a well-oiled machine. This culminated in the Millennium Arc, when the tables were turned and Yugi's Other now needed the help of Yugi and friends to fight his way through his memories and rediscover his lost name. Yugi's Other, AKA Atem, had come full circle in his relationship with Yugi, learning the value of friendship and teamwork and rediscovering something that he had lost when his memories had been sealed. The other reason I love it so much is because it's a relationship that can't be so easily categorized. Sometimes they are father and son (like when Atem believes Yugi might surpass him one day. What loving parent doesn’t believe that of their child?), other times, they are like brothers (whenever they bicker over what cards to put in their deck, or when Atem teases Yugi about his feelings for Anzu), and other times, they are like lovers (such as when Atem tells Yugi that he doesn’t care about finding his memories and wants to remain with him). Overall, this is a relationship that's more than family, more than friendship, more than sex/romance. It's a true, pure bond between two souls, darkness and light, effectively intertwined as one entity.

#ygo #puzzleshipping #yami yugi #pharaoh atem #mutou yugi

54 notes · View notes

robinsarm · 3 years

Text

Just a Little Anxiety Before you Leave

I’ve unfortunately allowed one of my in game habits to fester and it’s now become a short, one off fic for the Zarina x Deathslinger ship. Enjoy :)

(Word count: ~2400)

(Some mature topics included)

There were times Zarina could get along with the killer she’d arrived with, The Deathslinger. He may have been very rough around the edges and you needed a pickaxe to break through his cold and unforgiving demeanor. But, Zarina had done that on many occasions before. However, right now, Slinger was getting on the girl’s nerves.

She’d been left on the dusty ground of Dead Dawg Saloon for the fifth time now. It wasn’t anyone’s outright fault, the killer just didn’t seem to want to hook her past the first time a few minutes into the trial. She’d had the foresight to bring a loadout that countered such strategies, but it only worked as long as her teammates were feeling altruistic.

They weren’t...not this trial at least.

Yui was busy keeping Slinger’s attention, Nancy was making sure not a totem was left in the small town, and Quentin...well, Quentin had fallen asleep. The killer got tired of hearing those unrelenting crows circle over the boy, so he’d been killed off quickly.

As Yui was placed onto her second hook of the trial, Nancy finally made it to Zarina who’d been crawling towards her the entire time.

“Sorry,” Nancy tried to apologize, but Zarina didn’t stay to hear her out. She turned on her heels and sprinted towards the old saloon. There was a chest out back she wanted to search and, hopefully, get a med kit. However, before she could even pass the killer shack, Nancy screamed, having been speared by the relentless bounty hunter.

Zarina let her head fall back in defeat; why did it always seem like she had to babysit the entire trial? Rolling her eyes, Zarina took a right instead of her intended left and quickly hobbled back towards the water tower. Yui was hooked right behind the dilapidated buildings lining a majority of the town. By the time Zarina got there, the poor girl looked like she’d been beaten to an inch of her life.

“I got you-”

“Don’t!” Yui interrupted her, shocking Zarina into stepping back.

“What? Why?” Zarina asked quickly and instinctively looked down at her feet.

“Nancy’s on death hook,” Yui said with a struggle, right as their last teammate was stabbed to the ground. “One of us is going to make it out. Just take it,” she added, referring to the hatch.

“Why don’t you take it? You can run him better than I can,” Zarina protested, raising her arms to either side of Yui’s torso.

Yui shook her head, her fight with the Entity swiftly coming to a close. “I’m done with this trial.” Her grip on the Entity’s claws began to slip. In a panic, Yui shouted, “There’s a med kit in the basement,” before the Entity plunged it’s finger-like claws into her body and hoisted her into the sky.

Zarina couldn’t stand watching that part of the sacrifice. She’d seen it plenty but it still didn’t get any easier. She wiped Yui’s blood from her face and neck before beginning the search for healing anew. Nancy was hooked not five seconds later; now Zarina was in a rush.

Thankfully, the killer didn’t immediately come for her, so Zarina made it to the basement before ever catching sight of the cowboy. Yui was correct, in the chest was a completely unused Emergency med kit. For a moment, Zarina wondered if Quentin had searched the chest but left the kit for someone else. Like the thousands of times before, Zarina unpacked the kit and used it effortlessly on herself until there wasn’t a wound left bothering her.

Leaving the med kit behind, Zarina bolted from the basement, knowing her time was limited. Find the hatch, that was her only objective at this point. As she left the basement, a feint but noticeable ringing buzzed in her eardrums. She knew what that noise was and already knew it was too late.

In less than a second, the killer shot his gun sending the precisely aimed spear directly into her right side. Not only was she primed to lose another health state, but she quickly realized she was about to lose them both. That spear hit sent a wave of nausea through her system, her skin erupted with goosebumps and she gained the overwhelming thought that she was going to die.

She was exposed.

Zarina yanked on the spear, trying to pull it loose, meanwhile glaring at the killer. “You brought the coin, you fuck!” she screamed at him as he pulled her closer.

“You’re only figurin’ this now?” he yelled back, then laughed as he slashed her to the floor.

Going from fully healthy to dying on the ground was something Zarina hated worse than anything. That action usually broke bones or tore major arteries. It hurt worse than anything Zarina had ever experienced, so she avoided it no matter the cost. But now, she was back on the ground - back to where she started. Now, she was bordering on hating this man.

“Can’t you just-” Zarina paused to spit out a glob of blood out from the back of her throat- “kill me?”

The Deathslinger chuckled whilst reloading his weapon. “Now why would I do that?”

“Fuck you, Quinn,” Zarina hissed as he got closer.

“Oh,” Slinger cooed. “Big words coming from the person who takes them literally.” The killer had dropped low, practically down to Zarina’s level to give her that comeback. He was so close she could feel him breathing on her neck. She knew what he was doing. He’d toyed with her before. She wasn’t going to give him any sort of satisfaction this time, however. She remained stone-faced, staring straight out into the small, desert town, all the while trying to ignore him and the heat flushing her cheeks.

Slinger laughed again when she didn’t responded then resumed his position, towering over her. “Quit bein’ so stoic. You’re missin’ your escape.”

“My escape?” Zarina questioned in her head then gave the killer a narrow stare.

Slinger was still smiling, but he was shifting his gaze between her and something off down the road. Zarina considered the circumstance then pulled herself forward into the dusty road. Turning her head was all she needed to do to see it - the hatch. Down towards the center of town, the metal square seeping black fog mocked her from its impossibly far distance. She gave Slinger another look, this time with more spite behind it.

“Well go on then,” he joked. “I haven’t been pickin’ you up, have I?” With that, the killer walked a few paces in front of her, then turned around and waited for her.

Zarina wanted to scream, maybe even throw a fit and call him a few choice words that would really get her killed. Instead, she lamented, took a long painful breath, and began the crawl.

Right off the bat, the gravel scraping her ribcage and stabbing into her open wounds was enough to make her want to quit. Mixing that with Deathslinger’s added nervous ticks as he waited “patiently” only made her more irritated. The man wouldn’t know how to keep still if his life was on the line. He paced, he tapped his good foot, he inspected his gun and even began cleaning it in a few spots. It was the comments that slowly picked at Zarina.

“Damn your slow for a young one,” or “I think my mum, 6 feet under, might beat ya to it.”

The only thing that kept her going was the fact that she’d brought Tenacity. The distance between her and Slinger and the hatch were all closing fast. If she had to endure this harassing torture at normal crawling speeds, Zarina would have just given up.

As Zarina passed the stagnant killer, she let herself wonder if he was actually letting her go. But, like the godly timing this killer always seemed to have, Slinger smothered that thought as she heard the spurs of his boots clinking towards her. She stopped just as Slinger stepped over her, now standing with a boot on either side of her ribcage.

“What?” she grumbled as she tried to look back up at him.

“You’re goin’ a bit faster than usual. Remind me what you’re runnin,” Slinger asked with a tone in his voice Zarina didn’t like. He was tormenting her and now she was wishing she hadn’t used her Unbreakable earlier in the trial.

“Tenacity,” she answered begrudgingly.

“Ah, that’s right. How ‘bout we slow ’r down a bit,” Slinger insisted more than asked.

Zarina almost immediately ignored him and continued crawling; it was an action she instantly regretted when Slinger prodded his spurs into her sides. She yelped and tried rolling away only to be stopped by Slinger’s other leg.

“Slow it down,” Slinger repeated more firmly this time, then resumed his normal stance.

The list of things Zarina wanted to call Slinger at this point had reached an extended scrolls length. She was so fed up and just wanted to go back to the campfire. She could rant and rave there about how annoying he and this entire trial had been. Most likely she was just going to sleep her anger away like she always did. Sleep sounded intoxicating at that moment, so Zarina focused on that.

The survivor made a conscious effort not to move too quickly. She’d start a crawl then stop, making sure no part of her was about to run into the knives that were Slinger’s spurs. As she crawled, Slinger stepped up with her, slow and steady. That’s how they moved for what felt like minutes. She crawls an inch, he steps forward, she crawls a few more inches, he steps forward again. Zarina hated it.

Eventually, Zarina ignored the killer entirely and focused on only two things: the rhythm and the heavenly whistle of the hatch not 10 meters away from her. She counted the meters the best she could. 9...8...7. With each passing moment, Zarina’s heart pounded harder and harder with excitement, with hope. Adrenaline was surging through her veins, making her shaky. Once she was close enough, Zarina forgot all about the killer above her and resumed crawling at her faster pace.

Another mistake she was quickly corrected on.

“Now what did I tell ya!” Slinger reprimanded as he reached down and grabbed her shirt.

“No! Wait,” Zarina screamed.

She was so close. If she reached out she’d be able to touch the edge of the metal escape. Just one more second and she’d be gone.

“You messed up Kassir. Shoulda listened,” the killer taunted as he slugged her effortlessly onto his shoulder.

Tears welled in Zarina’s eyes. Another death. After all that torment, she’d let herself believe that he was going to let her have it. She felt embarrassed and humiliated. For once, she let herself cry. Instead of wiggling at a chance for freedom, she gripped onto the back of his coat and held on for dear life.

“Caleb, please,” she begged with a shaky voice. “I’m sorry, please. I’m sorry.”

The killer stopped in his tracks and gripped onto Zarina’s shirt tighter. “I ain’t fallin’ for your crocodile tears-”

“I’m not faking!” She screamed as more tears leapt from her eyes.

“Okay, okay,” Slinger lamented softly. He was hearing the emotion in her voice now. Setting his weapon against the shack wall, Slinger used both hands to gently slide the survivor off his shoulder. Zarina didn’t get far before she latched onto him, wrapping her legs around his waist and hugging his throat like she’d fall off if she didn’t.

“Love, I was only playin’,” Slinger said, trying his best to calm the girl that was glued to his torso. “I was gonna give ya’ the damn hatch.”

Zarina didn’t try to make any additional comments. She was currently focused on keeping herself quiet. She may have felt like an absolute hot mess but she didn’t want to irritate the man any further with her sniffling and lack of control over her emotions.

Slinger, trying his absolute best, gently patted Zarina on the back while he paced around the area. Eventually, he figured she needed support, and he needed a bit of weight off his lungs, so Slinger lifted her up under her thighs. All Zarina could offer in return was a small apology that barely escaped her throat without cracking.

“I really get you this wired?” Slinger asked genuinely as he walked over to the windowsill of the shack to lean against it.

“No, I just-” Zarina cut herself short, feeling her throat about to give out again.

“Settle, love,” Slinger whispered and gently kissed her shoulder. “Breathe for a minute.”

“ ‘m sorry,” she mumbled into his coat.

“Quit your apologizin’. You didn’t do nothin’,” Slinger said. “Shoot your shit when you’re calm enough.”

A man of many words this one wasn’t, but Zarina liked that. Slinger was always straight to the point, sometimes being a little harsh, but she could take it. She’d be a pretty bad journalist if she couldn’t handle a few expletives.

Eventually, the survivor got around to calming her mild panic attack. At the first sign of her settling down, Slinger questioned again if she needed to speak her mind. There wasn’t much Zarina could say that she hadn’t already vented to him about before. So, she just shook her head and feigned exhaustion before trying to remove herself from the killer’s arms.

“I don’t give a shit how tired you are,” Slinger told her flatly. He kept her fixed to his chest then began the short walk back to hatch. “When you get back to your friends, bring your ass right on back here.”

Zarina raised an eyebrow even though he couldn’t see it. “What do you have here that I’d want?” she asked, playing along.

Slinger shrugged. “Quiet night. Apology whiskey. Maybe some make-up sex.”

Heat rushed to Zarina’s face again as she tried to stifle an excited laugh. “Whiskey’s fine.”

“And so are you,” Slinger quickly added before safely dropping her at the foot of the hatch. “Now hurry on and get your ass on back here.”

Zarina laughed for a moment before her wounds reminded her that she’d better get going. “Thank you, Caleb,” she said softly before dropping into the cool darkness of her escape, fully intending on returning to the blazing heat of that old western town.

#the deathslinger #zarina kassir #dbd #I fully intended on making this short #then it turned into 6 pages #dead by daylight #caleb quinn

13 notes · View notes

stormyoceansmain · 3 years

Note

Since you’re about to start Lonestar soon, here’s my essay on the whole screen-time balancing issue:

So, for the original 9-1-1, the show was created specifically for Angela Bassett. They wanted to do an entire show around her, and they came up with this whole first responders thing as a result. Obviously, if they were going to focus on all aspects of first responding, then they would need some other headlining actors to lead those other areas or nobody would care about any parts of the show besides Athena’s. They got Peter Krauss and Connie Britton. Both big names. This makes it where when cop stuff is being shown, we have a big name, when firefighter/EMS stuff is being show, we have a big name, and when dispatcher stuff is being shown, we have a big name. It evenly divides the interest in all three directions. Then, Connie Britton leaves, and amazingly and very wisely, rather than replacing her with a lesser-known actress or just stopping the dispatcher scenes altogether, they snag JLH for the role. And I know there are many people out there who only started watching the show due to being a fan of her. She’s a headliner, and that’s what headliners do: pull in more audience. Anyway, this works perfectly to maintain that balance of the three areas. Now, I honestly don’t think the writers were expecting Buck to be as much of a fan-favorite as he is because now when we’re looking at the firehouse, the focus is usually more on him rather than Bobby, especially now that Bathena is a thing and a lot of their scenes are together outside of work. Regardless, the point is that they set things up really well to have that initial balance of characters in the beginning, and they did a good job of maintaining that by bringing in JLH. This foundation starts to wobble a bit with the more characters they add to the cast, the harder it gets to give everyone proper focus, and this is the main reason I’m so opposed to them giving Taylor a bunch of screen time. Anyway, it was a spectacular formula. You’d think they would try to repeat it with the spin-off, right?

Well, they tried…. I guess? Rob Lowe was obviously the centerpiece to frame the show around just like Angela Bassett had been, but he’s definitely not suited to play the role of a cop, and he has a very small handful of similarities with Bobby I guess so let’s make him the fire Captain. Okay there’s our first headliner. We need two more if we’re gonna show police and dispatch, right?

Eh, let’s just get one more, not two. They get Liv Tyler. So she’s gonna be a police officer? No. A dispatcher (which I personally would have loved)? Nope. See, the thing is, in Texas, EMS is a separate crew from firefighters. Unlike in LA where all firefighters are required to be EMTs at the bare minimum and most are also trained paramedics because they make better pay. In Texas the two are separate entities that just happen to share a fire station. So, let’s make Liv Tyler the paramedic captain. And then we’ll cast two little-known actors to play the only named cop and the only named dispatcher.

Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love Carlos and Grace. Their actors are incredible, and when they actually get screen-time, they’re the stars of the show. But the problem is that they’re not headliners. Why would the writers give them much screen-time when it’s Rob Lowe and Liv Tyler’s big names that are pulling in the viewers. So, the focus of the show is almost entirely on the firehouse. To make matters worse, even the other firefighters have a hard time finding any attention in the midst of a Rob Lowe show.

In seasons one (I promise this won’t be spoiler-y), Carlos the sole police officer is best friends with Liv Tyler’s character and so this is the main way they bring him into the story when he’s not responding to police calls or interacting with TK as a love interest. Grace is of course married to the firefighter Judd, so that’s how she is more involved in the plot. Unfortunately, Liv leaves after season 1. Gina Torres comes in as the new paramedic captain, but this presents a huge problem for Carlos in season 2. Now, his only connection to the main story is TK. Gina’s character is best friends with Grace, so that gives Grace some better screen-time, but Carlos is virtually diminished to a love interest rather than an interesting first-responder character in his own right. It’s absolutely heartbreaking to see. I honestly wish they would have brought in another big name to be Carlos’ partner on the job, and then added a secondary dispatcher character with a compelling personality similar to how they added Josh in season 2 of the original show. Anyway, I truly love all the characters on Lonestar (except Rob Lowe and his ex-wife that shows up in season 2), but the writers make it hard to care much about them with the minuscule crumbs they give us outside of anything that is Rob’s giant ego.

I know this is super long, and I’m sorry, but I’ve been ruminating on all these thoughts since season 1 of Lonestar first aired. Anyway, still excited to hear your takes on everything once you get the chance to watch it.

hi, anon!!!! first of all, sorry for the late reply, it took me a while to gather my thoughts and put them down properly, but more importantly thank you so much for remembering to send me this!!! it was a really interesting read, especially for someone like me who 1) has no idea how things in the USA work, and 2) still doesn't know much about how the show came to be

i've never really thought about it, but as far as marketing strategies go, it does actually make a lot of sense to have one big name for each area of first responding to attract the general public and make them interest in all the different storylines, so the moment they decided to bring in only 2 big names for lone star, and not 3, this could definitely have been a factor in the decision of making lone star more rob lowe centric, at least at first (if you have a well known actor in your show, it does kinda feel natural to make him the center of the story)

however, i feel like this choice can be understandable only for the first season, when the viewers don't know the other actors yet, and you can use the big name to make people interested in the show and slowly introduce all the characters so the viewers get invested in them too, slowly giving them more space and screen time

this is why i think the og series did a great job by bringing in JLH, not only because she is JLH, but because they gave maddie a lot of connections (she is buck's sister, she is chimney's love interest) and thanks to her we got to actually see more of the dispatchers and learn to care about other characters (josh, sue, etc.), to the point that now, even if for some reason you took maddie out of the show, the characters she have connections with would still work perfectly fine and have their own story to tell without her

so it's kinda upsetting to me to learn that with liv tyler's character gone, carlos has been pretty much reduced only to love interest, because it means that they didn't really take the time to give him a story of his own, and it sucks, especially when in the original ALL THE CHARACTERS get their moment to shine

okay, sorry, this is getting super long and idk if im making sense, the point is that i do agree with you on the big names, though i also feel like for some reason in lone star there's a reticence to give focus to other characters and after 2 seasons it can't be just 'they don't attract viewers', but of course i can't really give a proper opinion on this until i watch lone star myself, so.. sorry again for the long and messy reply ;;;;;;;;

#can't remember what my point in all of this was ;;;;;;#but it's kinda nice to chat like this #i do hope it doesn't come off as annoying or idk #something #anyway thank you again for sending me your thoughts on this anon!!!!!#they really were super interesting to read and they made me think a lot as you can see ;;;;;;#monica talks #long post

9 notes · View notes

depressedtransguy · 3 years

Text

if you’re not @angelwiththeblue-box don’t read or i’ll feed your hand mouth lotion until it vomits

Loki sobbed harder as the body he had spent almost two years loving slumped against the wall with a trail of blood and other internal entities following him on the way down, squeezing one hand across his heart and one on the gun that he was still holding. Both were trembling badly. I had no choice, I had no choice, I had no choice, he repeated over and over in his head, trying to remind himself that he did the right thing, but his heart just couldn't accept that. Yet it was too late to go back. He was dead. And it was all Loki's fault.

The crying soon enough overtook his whole body and he was forced to drop down onto his knees, folding over until his pale forehead was resting against the cooling concrete and his tears were soaking the part beneath him. "I never wanted to hurt you, by god I never wanted to hurt you," Loki choked out with a following sob. Only then did he finally let go of the gun to claw at his neck as if that would open up his trachea from being strangled by tears. "I loved you. I love you."

"Oh my god, what the-? LOKI?"

A new and very familiar voice echoed against the hard surfaces and forced Loki to snap his head up to look him in the eye. His frightened eyes. Eyes that unfortunately had just doomed their host's life.

Within just seconds a knife had been yanked out of Loki's weapons belt and more blood was pouring out onto the floor, this time from a neck. His unconscious body crumbled down into the puddle. Loki felt less bad that time. The pair hadn’t been as close as he had with the original victim. But the more he thought about it, Loki realized that he didn't have to die in order for himself to live, and that fact alone twisted up his guts. Collateral damage. Not great.

Loki dropped the blood covered knife with a clatter onto the floor and collapsed down to his knees once more, the second death pushing his oppressive sorrow into nothing but crushing apathy. They were dead. Because of him.

When the door opened back up behind him Loki jumped up to his feet once more-already ready to kill again-only to stop when he saw that it was Odin.

"Good, the job's done."

Fingernails dug into Loki's palms. He was the one who set him up to this in the first place. Maybe I should kill him.

But Odin was quicker.

As Loki snatched a second knife-this one more ragged-and raised it up to pierce him right in the jugular vein, Odin turned on his heel and stopped him by his wrists, then shoving him into the other wall after disarming him. Loki’s head smacked into the concrete and he slid down to his ass. "Don't even think about it. I know you've heard the stories, and I'd hate for you to become nothing but a scary story to keep new trainees from stepping out of line," Odin spat, impaling the knife into the crown of the closest body’s head, before stepping forward to stand upright in front of Loki and display his dominance. Not that Loki really needed the reminder. “You could’ve been something really great, you know? I’ve seen you train, I’ve seen you in the simulations, and I just watched you kill two of your friends almost effortlessly, you could have been the best assassin in this place. But no, you’re selfish, aren’t you? You had to go and start this fling with that fucking amputee, and go against everything we’ve ever taught you. Stand up, hitman.”

Loki was forced to listen. But he was immediately struck in the face only to collapse on the floor once more. The pain of his hit shot through his nose and made his eyes water, the only tears not from sadness joining the wetness on his cheeks. He just stayed silent on the floor in fear of being hit again as the pain continued to gnaw at his face.

“We gave you a perfect road to success. And you destroyed it because you only had yourself in mind. You’re going to have to make up for this.” Only then did Odin wave him up from where he lay scared. But as soon as he did, knees shaking and hands shoved in his pockets to hide the trembling, a hand wrapped around his throat and tightened until he couldn’t breathe. Then his surprised face was brought up close to his superior’s. “Here’s what you’re going to do. Keep excelling in class. Keep doing what you’ve always been doing. But drop the little posse. And don’t step out of line again, or else next time, you won’t get a choice between your slow death or a quick murder. You understand?”

He still couldn’t breathe, his hands grabbing at Odin’s forearm and squeezing as if that would remove the iron grip from his throat, but he did his best to nod in understanding.

Thankfully after that he was dropped onto the floor and left to gasp. “You’re not going to be a victim of this horror. You’re going to be the perpetrator. Do you understand me?”

“Ye-yes,” Loki choked out. “I understand… sir.”

Odin smirked. “Good. You’ll be back on track in no time to be the monster we raised you to be.” With a tap of his steel toed boot against Loki’s rib cage, he then opened the door once more and swept out, leaving the teenager heaving against the floor with two dead bodies, a strew of his own weapons, a knot in his stomach, and a hole in his heart.

“Monster…”

Loki felt two arms wrap around him from behind and a head flop down on his shoulder as he slipped his boots on and tightened the laces, only then pausing at the feeling of his husband latching onto him. "Nightmare, huh?" Stephen whispered against the skin of his neck. "You always get up early for work when you have a bad one."

After seventeen years together Loki was practically an open book that his husband had memorized by heart. "Yeah. It was... bad." A shiver ripped down his spine as he felt familiar fingers slowly dragging themselves over the brand on the back of his neck.

"Was it about this?" he questioned without stopping.

Wordlessly, Loki nodded. Although most of his past he still kept locked up out of fear, and Stephen respected it, he did have a vague idea. And much of that idea came from the thick red ringed brand of the numbers '4269'. It was discovered only a few weeks into their relationship, as it wasn't exactly in a hidden area, but Loki released bits and pieces of an explanation over the years without pressure from his partner.

From those alone Stephen basically knew that Loki was abandoned by his parents as a baby and handed over to some sort of group or organization that branded him as one of theirs and he only managed to escape very closely to the time that they first met. That was it.

But that was just enough for Stephen to be satisfied and have enough to comfort his husband, while Loki still had enough hidden that he could sleep at night knowing that his husband was still far from the entire truth.

"Would you like to talk about it?"

Honestly he did. Every day he wanted to rant to Stephen about the trauma of his past and just how much they still affected him up to the present. But that came along with the risk of losing him and absolutely everything else, so he kept it all locked down. "Not today, I actually should get to the shop early. I owe Nebula for leaving her with a double shift last time."

Stephen accepted it, but only released one arm from his midsection, first pushing his head over to the side for a sleepy kiss which Loki enthusiastically returned. "Come to me at any time. Okay? I'm not going anywhere."

He could still read him even without knowing everything. "I will. I promise."

With a small smile, Stephen pressed another kiss to the corner of his mouth before reluctantly slipping off of him and flopping back onto the mattress. "I love you Dewdrop."

"I love you too." Loki stood up after one more kiss was shared, snatching up his phone and keys as he quietly made his way out of his bedroom and into the kitchen. There he ate a bit of a leftover bagel and cast nothing but a sideways glance at the mess on the counter, knowing that it was most likely from one of his daughter's midnight stress baking sessions, which she'd clean up once she woke up within the hour for high school. I'll have to talk to her about that, he thought as he plucked his biker jacket off the coat rack and tucked some of his handheld items into the pockets, already pushing the nightmare out to make room for his daughter. Just one reason out of many why he adored his family. As for his daughter, Hela's, problem, he was pretty positive that it was most likely about her upcoming finals, as she was a huge perfectionist that could barely handle getting a B, and her practice tests hadn't been going too well. Stephen had mostly been handling that, since Loki didn't go to any sort of real school, but he figured that maybe giving up a bit of his unorthodox learning strategies as a child could help her. After all, it did eventually lead to him speaking seven languages and knowing just as much (if not more) about medicine than his doctor husband did. Who knows, but he had to try something to stop watching his daughter suffer over her own expectations.

Right before he was about to step out the door and get to his six AM shift a half an hour early, the thoughts of his daughter reminded him that he should check on his children before he left. Many mornings he had opened his kids doors to find out that they never went to sleep in the first place: Hela from either school or YouTube and Thor from his books.

So as quietly as possible he crept up the stairs up to where dim light was seeping in through windows from the early morning sunrise, carefully twisting the knob to his son's room first and pushing it in. There he saw Thor curled up in his bed with his favorite frog stuffie gripped tightly to his chest, the small lullaby that was usually played to help him sleep floating softly through the still air, and his glow and the dark stars on the ceiling shining down on his apparently sleeping form. But Loki was smarter than that.

"Oh alright, I guess Thor is asleep then. Too bad. I guess I can't give him this brand new Frogger game boy then," Loki acted out as he moved farther into the room, doing worse at holding down his smile than his own fidgeting son. "Maybe I should just donate it since he's not awake to take it." Based on his little facial expression alone, he was having a little battle with himself.

But, eventually and inevitably, the frog side of him won.

"No no, Dad, I'm awake!" he exclaimed. "Just give me it!"

Loki grinned at his victory and kneeled down carefully next to his son's low bed, then peeling back the covers a little more to reveal a dog-eared book with a miniature flashlight both hiding under there. "Another all nighter for... Warrior Cats? Thor, you have school today."

"I'm sorry Dad, I lost track of time. I kept reading and reading and then suddenly I saw the sun start to rise and you were coming in," he hastily explained.

It was hard to be mad at that. But, although Loki had never really followed the notion himself, sleep was very important to everyone--especially growing children. "Okay Thor, but I'm going to need you to give me both the book and the flashlight."

And he did, although not exactly willingly. "Alright, good." Loki slipped the flashlight into his pocket and tucked the book under his arm. "Now I'm going to need you to go to sleep. I know your school starts in three hours and you need to wake up in only two, but any sleep is better than no sleep. Believe me. Can you do that?"

"Fine. I can."

"Good. Now please do, and I'll see you tonight. Okay?" After a nod Loki smiled and kissed his forehead. "I love you."

"I love you too Dad," Thor mumbled as he pulled the covers over him and actually snuggled in that time, casting a little wave as his father stood up and rested the book on the dresser by the door.

Loki mimicked the action before closing the door behind him to let him finally get some sleep. He could only wish his daughter was doing better.

Well... at least she was asleep.

When Loki cracked open her door and peeked in, he stepped in to find her passed out on her desk, her dark brown hair strewn across the textbooks she was on top of that clearly showed what she had been doing before she had fallen unconscious. Once he was close enough to realize the latter he then began removing the most likely uncomfortable volumes and then shut off the light-as quietly as possible of course-before finally draping a blanket over her back. It was all he could do for now, so he then gently shut the door behind him and finally left the house knowing that his family was safe. Sometimes reassurance was necessary. Especially after the flashbacks to when he had no reassurance.

Loki stripped off his jacket and hung it over his arm as soon as he stepped into the heated tattoo parlor, throwing a wave to Nebula where she was bent over some muscled guys tanned back, before he stopped at the main desk to clock in. "Any appointments for the day?" he questioned as Mary signed him in.

As she, Mantis as she was known to her parlor friends, tapped at her computer, Loki looked over the many tattoos lacing up and down her revealed pale arms and internally wondered if they all had a deeper meaning like his own did. He could just ask, perhaps, as that would be a billion times easier than just wondering, but that would possibly lead to questions about his own, which would lead to a lot of fear and possibly a good old anxiety attack. Sounded fun. Oh, she was talking. "Only one, so the rest will be walk-ins. Ayesha should be here by eight with a request for some sort of New York City landscape, whatever that means, but I'm sure she'll explain it better than she did over the phone. It was actually late last night. She might've been drunk." Not the first time it happened. From there only 20% of people then actually showed up. "We'll see if she arrives or not."

"Makes sense. Thanks, Mantis."

She didn't answer. Loki was actually 90% sure that she was asleep right there standing behind the desk. "Mantis?" he repeated, waving his hands over her eyes, suddenly feeling bad for never being able to take the night shift. "You alive?"

With a jerk she seemed to come back to consciousness and make the tattoo artist flinch in the same second. "Oh. Yes. Sorry, I have not slept in 36 hours. Just go settle in until either a walk-in or Ayesha arrives."

Although he wanted to listen he stalled temporarily, wondering if there was anything he could do for her, before just nodding and moving toward the backroom.

Loki hung his coat up after he pushed open the door and immediately went for the day-old coffee pot, as neither him nor any other employee really cared what the drink tasted like as long as they got the fast juice. The fast was the important part. All the contents were emptied into a hopefully clean Snoopy mug that was pretty much known as his before he downed it all. Loki had been working there long enough to know how the mug situation works.

A collective 13 years how long he had been employed at Quill's Tattoos, with a five year gap in between when he had been a house husband to take care of his infant son.

skip to news

To Loki's surprise, Ayesha actually showed up.

"Okay, I vaguely remember making an appointment here last night through a haze of my idiotic drunkenness, and I've always kind of wanted one, so now I'm here," she explained to Mantis in a whisper as Loki leaned against the counter and watched, intrigued by her arrival and her hungover state.

Mantis, just as surprised and amused, nodded and explained the situation back to her and the same soft tone that she had used. It wasn't her first rodeo. "Yes ma'am, you did make an appointment last night in a seemingly extremely intoxicated state. You requested an 8 AM slot with the employee with the most gentle hands. So you'll be with Loki this morning." With a blush of embarrassment Ayesha looked over at Loki as he waved, fighting a snicker at what she had asked for. "I can replay the call to confirm if you'd like."

"No! No, I- I believe it."

"Alright." Mantis scribbled a few things out on a piece of paper before tearing it off and handing it over to Loki. "You'll go with him now. Depending on what you want and if you even know what you want, you'll either finish it today or have to make another appointment in the future."

Ayesha nodded in understanding, lightly fiddling with the strap of her purse as she followed Loki from the reception desk and into the main area of the shop, and then past a curtain of beads into a room with a few collected tables and chairs intended for discussions as well as an option for employees to take their lunch breaks. They quickly found one that they wished to sit down at. "So, do you have an idea of what you'd like? Because if you don't know or don't even have an exact idea, I have some of drawings of my own as well as other designs that I haven't gotten to but can also do myself," Loki began in the same gentle voice as to not hurt her, taking out the book he had under his arm and pushing it across the table to her.

"Okay good because I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing," she whispered and quickly cracked open the binder, flipping through the pages and carefully dragging her finger across the laminated pictures and drawings. "But I do know I want it on my bicep."

"Alright, I can start there. See anything you like?"

She flipped a few more pages in silence before she slowly nodded. "This one. I like the style." The drawing she had in mind was a deeply red rose, its overly long stem tied up in itself over and over again, along with jutting thorns that glinted with blood. "Although I'd prefer a different type of flower."

"Oh, that's easy. Just give me a bit to draw up a quick sketch and I'll see what I can do. But what type of flower?" As he anticipated her answer, Loki opened the book a little wider so he could snatch up one of the loose papers at the back to draw on and pulled a pencil from behind his ear.

"Hmm... how about a Narcissus flower? Oh, what's the other name- a daffodil! That one," she responded as she already began to tap at her bicep where she planned for it to go.

Loki immediately got to work. Meanwhile, Ayesha fell silent once more and pulled out her phone, the scribble of his pencil being the only sound that echoed through the empty area. Until about ten minutes had gone by and the client cried out.

"Oh my god!"

"What? I'm not finished but if it's way off from what you were imagining I can change it-"

"No, no," Ayesha interrupted, her eyes locked on the space above him. "I mean... look!"

Loki followed her finger to where she was pointed until he found himself staring at the small TV in the corner of the room, which was currently on mute, but no noise was needed for him to understand what was going on. The picture alone showed him a very familiar face holding a gun to his daughter's head from the perspective of someone who was clearly a hiding student. "I have to go."

"Wait, wh-"

"Talk to Mantis!" he threw over his shoulder as he burst through the beads and eventually out the door, not even bothering to grab his jacket on the way out, just jumping on his bike and taking off. He'd never get that jacket back. He'd probably never go back to his job ever again either. His past had finally reached him, and due to it, there was no way he wasn't going to lose his future along with it.

Loki practically kicked his front door down when he reached it. Thankfully empty, he stormed down the hall and immediately went to his bedroom and opened his and his husband's shared closet. After all clothes were shoved aside in order for him to have access to the blank back wall, Loki pressed his bare palm to the black paint and leaned in, only removing it when he felt the scanner confirm his identity and the hidden door began to open with a small sliding sound. It revealed a 12 by 12 titanium covered secret room covered in weapons, memoriams of his childhood, and most importantly, the world famous outfit that made everyone know his name. The Frost Giant. Flashbacks already started to tear through his mind just at the sight of it. But this wasn't about him. This was about his daughter, and absolutely nothing else. So he grabbed the mask wrapped around the mannequin's head and snapped it on his jaw, doing his best to ignore the shivers that went down his spine. All the bodies he'd dropped were coming back to him. From afar, close up; from world leaders to innocent civilians- all because of him. Just think about her. Just think about her.

Bound at both the wrists and the mouth, all Hela could do was swing her legs and wiggle around in her captor's grip, although clearly to no avail since she had been at it for over 15 minutes. Technically she did accomplish something, as she did manage to annoy her captor. But having a gun pointed at your head and being told to stop otherwise you'd die wasn't really a win. "All of you are recording this right?" he called out to the other students quivering inside their classrooms, phones urgently held up to the window, a chorus of silent nods responding to his question. They were too scared to speak. "And it's on the news?" More nods. "Good. He should be here soon then."

"He's already here."

A click of a gun along with the voice made the man do a 180 on his heel, whipping Hela along with him. She was annoyed before she was screaming at the sight of the new party. "Froosht?" she exclaimed, most likely meaning to say 'Frost'.

Loki's face grew worried at the mention, an expression that was thankfully being hidden by the mask. Frost was his assassin name, short for his full title of 'The Frost Giant', a title that his daughter knew of. She knew his past. She knew his past without even knowing it. "The Collector," he spoke to the man anyway, trying to avoid eye contact with her in fear of recognition. He also lost his accent as an attempt to shield his voice. "It's been a while."

"The Frost Giant. I could say the same. Last time I saw you, you were stealing my daughter."

With a dry chuckle Loki took a step forward. "Perhaps so. But I'm afraid I have to take another female away from you." His chin jerked over to Hela. "The girl. Release her. Or I'll paint the wall with your vital organs."

The Collector laughed as if Loki had just told the funniest joke in the world while his victim looked confused at the assassin with her big gray bambi eyes. The mixture of fear, confusion, and just a slight glimmer of hope inside them cracked Loki's heart. "Oh, no no no no no. You escaped by the skin of your teeth and left a trail of blood behind you last time, there's no way you're getting her any easier than that again," The Collector hissed as he tapped the barrel of his gun to Hela's head. She squirmed and looked pleadingly up at Loki- thankfully not recognizing the 'again' comment. She knew she was looking at an assassin... but she just wanted to get out.

"Why?" Hela was gagged at the mouth, muffling every word, but that one syllable was still clear as day.

Why me? Why you? Why are you doing this? That was what she was asking. But all she got out was 'why?'. The Collector said something before Loki was able to open a mouth that had no words to speak. "Yeah, Frosty, why don't you tell her why you're here? Why are you doing this? Come on, inform the girl," he evilly purred, forcing the girl closer to him with the weapon still pressed against her skull.

Loki of course said nothing about it. "If you don't listen to me I will splatter your brain all over the wall."

"What, like you did to James Barnes?"

"YOU SHUT UP ABOUT BUCKY!" Loki spat in a sudden burst of anger, one that made even The Collector step back in a bit of surprise. But then he grinned at the nerve he had struck. The assassin was not in the fucking mood. So he inhaled sharply, shoved down the trauma and the recollection of his dream, and tightened his grip on the weapon. "Put her down and I won't kill you, does that make fucking sense?"

"No. Wrong. You take off the mask, and I won't kill her." The room froze as every single person's, spare The Collector of course, eye's widened at his deal. He wanted Loki to reveal his identity to the world. After seeing the recording at his work, he already knew he had lost his life (although he was doing a great job at oppressing it), but lost his life in the way that he'd lose his family. But if he took off the mask, then he’d lose not only his family, but the ability to live in the world anymore. Taking off the mask meant death without the freedom of release. "You have 10 seconds." The Collector's smirk was just proof that he knew what he was doing. "And don't try anything tricky; I'll pull the trigger at even the tremble of a finger. So put the gun down, and face the music."

The gun was put down as asked.

"10."

He didn't have a choice, did he?

"9."

Letting his daughter die was worse than anything else that could happen to him.

"8."

For a second he thought about the possibility of disarming him and attempting to get the best out of both really really bad worlds.

"7."

But that was too risky.

"6."

The Collector wasn't lying, he would shoot at the tick of a pinkie, and he had an itchy trigger finger to do so with.

"5."

Lose the mask, or lose his daughter.

"4."

Now that was an easy decision.

"3."

'Easy'.

"2."

Loki would suffer the loss of his husband, and his children, as well as everything in the on-the-grid world that he had ever known-- but they would all live on.

"1."

"Alright!" Loki exclaimed and raised up his hands in defense, his gun having been tucked into the harness being partially shielded by his oversized cargo jacket. "I'm doing it, I'm doing it." After peeling off his right glove Loki's hand reached up to his face and his fingertips grazed the fabric. "But Hela?"

Hela's eyes widened once more. How do you know my name? was what she clearly wanted to say.

"I'll always love you."

Her extreme facial confusion continued until the mask was finally peeled off of his face and she let out a loud gasp. "Dad?!"

More and more gasps echoed into the hallway from the crowded groups of kids that had been eagerly pressed against the glass ever since Loki entered the building, each sound and expression striking the assassin harder and harder- but none more than his daughter's. Her face was filled with such a large amount of pain and betrayal, and all without her saying a word. "I'm so sorry," he whispered as he shoved his mask in his pocket and pulled out his gun once more. "But I did what you asked. We had a deal."

"Okay, okay, you're right. We had a deal. And I'm a man of my word." After the removal of her gag and his grip of her hands, Hela was let free.

But she didn't run. She slowly stepped forward to her father and scrunched her nose, tears clearly building up, and her fists clenching and unclenching at her side. Her mouth opened like she was going to say something. But then she closed it and stormed off behind The Collector.

Of course he was still grinning. "Why do you look so crushed? She's not even your daughter anyway."

Hela stopped walking. "What the hell does he mean?" she slowly questioned, unhurriedly turning back toward the two men.

"Get out of here, Hela, it's not safe."

"What the HELL does he mean!?" she repeated.

The Collector looked back at her and raised an eyebrow. "Go on, Frosty, don't be shy. Tell her how she was the daughter that you stole from me. Tell her how you took her right from her bed. Tell her what you were doing when you took her from her crib."

"Crib?! You had her in a bloody cardboard box!" Loki snapped.

Which was just what The Collector wanted. Proof from the man himself that Hela wasn't his, and was in fact stolen from him. "Tell her how you carried her, while you, bloody and beaten, hid scared to death in an alleyway, waiting there until your current husband found you. Tell her. Tell her who you were that led to all of this." His voice was as slick as a mother fucking snake. Once again, his plan was going perfectly. And that plan was to push Loki into the past.

Loki had been sipping a glass of Rosé wine-both of which he had stolen-in his dark underground hideout in Britain when he got the call. A job of his that he only barely managed to escape from had just ended 30 minutes prior, so as he lowered his glass to the ground next to the pile of blood spattered money he had gained from it, he only pulled out his burner phone with extreme reluctance. To be perfectly honest, he was too tired to take another job. But in the business that he was in, he didn't have a choice. Missing a call or denying a mission, or even just being too rude to one's hirer, could mean at the very least receiving no money for one's work, and at the very most... death. So he answered the call. "What is it?"

"It's The Watchman. I know you just had a job, but this is important."

Oh. Perhaps the day was looking up. "Well if it isn't my favorite boss. What do you have for me now?"

"There's this drug lord, in New York City, who calls himself 'The Collector', and he works in an abandoned warehouse near the water on West Houston Street. As you can predict, I want him dead. I don't care what method you use whether it's obvious there's foul play or you frame it as a suicide, he just needs to have no pulse. You're allowed to take any money or even cocaine (to sell, I know you're clean) from the scene. Only requirement is that there's no witnesses. As for pay from me, I'll leave 10K on the corner of 6th Avenue and West 8th. You know it?"

Although Loki spent most of his time in and around Europe, he had visited America a lot (mostly New York), so he did know what he was talking about. "Yeah, near Bleeker Street, I remember."

"Good. Get it done ASAP."

"On it."

An eight hour flight filled with a lot of vodka and opera music followed. (The former probably shouldn't have happened since he was the one driving the plane. He had already stolen it, he wasn't going to steal a pilot only to kill him as a witness later. Too risky.) But he still successfully made it to New York.

He touched down in Marine Park in the dead of night. Late enough that the city seemed unusually asleep. From there he walked a bit before he stole a motorcycle and continued his journey to the scene of where the crime was to take place. He then stopped about half a mile before he reached the warehouse in order to not make a loud entrance, then walking the rest of the way with a gun in hand and his mask already settled in place, a knife also at his belt in order to silently kill anyone in his path. Guns would warn his victim that he was coming. Sure, sometimes there were random gunshots around, it was America, but he still had to be careful.

By the time he reached the actual building he had slit about two guards throats. Less than usual. There must be more traps inside, Loki thought.

And dear god there were. The classic flour blown down an empty hallway as soon as he silently broke through the door revealed a shit ton of lasers that Loki considered way too overboard for just a popular cocaine dealer, making him consider that this guy was hiding something more than just crack, but as he slipped among the lasers as if it was nothing he brushed it off and just tried to focus on his mission. At least that one seemed to be the worst of the worst, as all other traps just forced him to knock out a few cameras, stab a few more guards, or dodge a few shots. Simple. Well at least until he passed the final door and heard the cry of a baby. It made him stop dead in his tracks.

There was a baby? On all of his missions Loki had never dealt with children since children were never really around the types of people he was sent to kill, either good or bad. Half of his brain wanted to paint it as his imagination and just continue and kill the dealer. But the other half was somehow stronger and forced him to go check it out.

As quietly as possible Loki knelt down on the cement and picked the door's lock, then slipped inside and closed it softly behind him.

It was almost entirely empty. About 12 by eight feet if he had to guess, with floor to ceiling cement that hadn't been cleaned in... ever, and the only object inside being a small cardboard box in the corner. That was where the baby was curled up.

She cried out again as he peered down at her, twisting in her box and whining, with nothing but a diaper and a blood spattered piece of cloth covering her body. Loki winced and gently placed a hand on her forehead. She felt unnaturally warm. Fuck, she has a fever, he swore. "Poor baby, is that bastard coke dealer your father?" he purred gently as his fingers cupped the sides of her body, lifting her up into the air and then cradling her against his body, trying to think of something to do. But nothing really came to mind.

So he just held her close until he heard the click of a gun behind his head.

Loki stayed silent as everything came back up from the pile of dirt which he had buried the memories under. He only escaped by the very skin of his teeth that night, so imagining all of that again with the now heartbroken grown up baby demanding an explanation, he didn't know what to say. He couldn't say anything. But it broke him even more when Hela scoffed, tears slipping down her cheeks, and said 'fuck you, 'Dad'' before storming of once more. The quotations stung. Everything stung. And he didn't even have a physical scar on him yet. "I was an abused child, forced into an organization that I had no business being in with no way to escape except timeless torture, and after I finally escaped it and got to grow my own life, this is what I get. There is no way in hell you're getting out of this alive," Loki hissed, cocking the gun once more and slowly dragging the trigger back with the barrel pointed right between his eyes.

The sliding of tile against metal was occuring as his opponent slowly shook his head, but Loki didn't want to take his eyes off of him just in case. It's not like they'd pose more of a danger that The Collector did. "Oh, Loki. Once again; you're wrong." The click of a gun informed Loki that there was in fact someone behind him. Fun. "I'm going to leave. And my henchmen are going to kill you." More and more footsteps echoed down the hallway as if they were coming. The Collector really had perfect timing, didn't he? "Sound fair?"

Cool steel pressed against the back of Loki's thick tied up hair. And for some reason, that was what made everything flood out of Loki's body. It reminded him of the night he had rescued his daughter. Sadness, anxiety, all of it drained out- and he just saw red. "Completely fair."

Although a little put off by his response, The Collector nodded at him before then turning on his heel, soon disappearing down the hallway. Loki waited a few seconds in silence to make sure before he spoke. "Kids. Close your eyes." His tone, which was calmer than the gentle breeze on a soft summer's day, was scarier than any other tone The Collector had put forward.

His gun dropped to the ground with a clatter and Loki ducked down and kicked back his legs, simultaneously dodging the bullet the henchmen shot out and knocking him down, before he rolled forward and stood up. Then without missing a beat Loki

hahaha fight scene who?

Stephen arrived at the building just as the cops grabbed Loki from where he stood at the front doors of the school, covered in spattered blood and an apathetic expression, soon to be shoved down against the hood of a police car and aggressively handcuffed. "Hey, HEY, get off of him!" Stephen exclaimed as he opened his door and ran over to try to help his husband. But, as expected, he was stopped by police before he could get close enough.

"Sir, I'm going to need you to stay back," the one of the two officers grabbing his arms roughly instructed. "This is a closed crime scene."

"And that's my husband!" Stephen snapped back with a twist that forced both of them to let go, although he was predictably grabbed yet again.

The officers didn't care. "And your husband is an international killer." Stephen snarled. "So stay back or we'll be forced to detain you too."

Knowing him, Stephen would have very well fought back and have been arrested himself. But then he heard a familiar voice shout his name. "Hela!" Stephen broke out of their grip once more and bolted over to his daughter, hugging him tightly against his chest once he was close enough to embrace her. She was sobbing into his shirt. "It's okay darling, we're okay. I promise."

"D-dad, I'm not his. He's not my dad, he st-he stole me! From that fu-*hic*-from that fucking psycho that held me hostage! I'm his daughter," she hissed out in opposition, only pushing away to prove him wrong. "Nothing is okay!"

The words were entirely new information to Stephen. But this wasn't about him, he had to figure it out and comfort his daughter. "Hela, I know you not being Loki's biological daughter after thinking you were for so long can be shocking, especially since you now know that your genes actually belong to such a terrible man, but biology. Means. Nothing. You're my daughter, aren't you?"

Hela slightly twisted, more tears streaming down her cheeks as she nodded.

"And we're not biologically related. Gene's don't mean shit- what matters is that I love you. And Loki loves you, I promise that. I don't care what this new information is, and I don't even entirely understand it, but he loves you. He proved it concretely today by risking everything just to save you. So please, Hela, don't think otherwise no matter what. Okay?"

She was crying even harder, so Stephen pulled her back in and gently rubbed her back as best as possible as she slowly began to soak his shirt.

fuck I'm bad at this

It was past midnight. After seeing the police tape of Loki escaping, picking Thor up from school, and shoving their way through the crowd of reporters in front of their house, the Strange family had been sitting in Hela's locked bedroom with no sound spare the TV playing Spongebob, which no one was paying attention to except for Thor. Stephen and Hela just sat there for hours and thought with only the occasional drift off to a device that they couldn't focus on. "I think most of the press is gone."

"Finally," Hela huffed, tilting her head back until the crown of it was pressed up against the wall. "I hope they don't come back." Both knew very well that they would be.

Thor had fallen asleep around eight from exhaustion. The other two had tried to follow suit, or at least get in a little cat nap, but to no avail. A mind choked with its own thoughts is not a mind that can relax. "Is this what our life is going to be now?" Once again was the silence broken. "Hiding away from the world, from the second hand guilt and shame of all those lives that Dad took almost two decades ago? This isn't our fault, why do we have to do this?"

"Because I married him, Hela." His answer made her look up ."When I married him, I accepted everything about him, even the things that I was unaware of, so I'm going to stick with him." With a sigh, Stephen pushed up from his position and went to sit next to his daughter across the room. "I never told you this before, since there was really no reason to, but there were a lot of red flags before we got together. Remember how I told you that we first met when I found him injured in an alleyway with you and then brought both of you to the hospital?" She nodded, so he continued. "Well, the story's a bit watered down. Yes, I did technically find him injured in an alleyway with you, but he had been stabbed at least 13 times, and shot once, and was practically bleeding all over the place when I reached him. That was the first red flag. The second one was when he was being examined at the hospital while being patched up. There they found traces of cocaine on his fingers, random wads of a lot of cash stuffed into his pockets, and, weirdest of all, that neither his fingerprint or dental records were in the system. And then the third one I just recognized from our talks in the hospital. We had good chemistry so we had a good conversation, but things still seemed... off. Like he hadn't had any genuine human interaction in a few years. And with all that in mind, when we met up again a year later, I still asked him out. I accepted and dealt with his faults before we even started dating, so I'm certainly not about to stop now. He's my husband and I love him. And he's your dad. That doesn't mean I expect you to be suddenly okay with all the deaths and all this new infamousness, but he is your dad, and he's never treated us wrong."

By the time he stopped Hela had tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill down her cheeks. "He has never treated us wrong. It just makes it so much more unbelievable that he's committed such... atrocities." Hela turned her whole body to her father as she tucked her hair behind both ears as she normally did when she thought. "Besides those red flags, have there been any more that directly pointed to 'assassin' that you now realize you ignored? Or no?"

Stephen turned toward her as well. "A few, maybe. Nothing that now makes me think 'holy shit I should have known he was an assassin', but things that make me think 'maybe I should have paid a little more attention'. (Not that I would have done anything about it if I somehow figured it out.) The nightmares that he refused to talk about, being handed over to some 'group' as a baby, the brand on the back of his neck, all the tattoos all over his body connected to people that he shied away from-"

An unfamiliar creaking noise stopped the father in his tracks. Even though his daughter somehow didn't hear it. "What? Shied away from what? Do you mean those tattoos are connected to people?"

As politely as possible Stephen told his daughter to stop talking so he could listen to the noises. Maybe he was just on edge and it was just the house settling, but he wanted to make sure. He had a family to protect.

It came again. It was downstairs. It seemed like the sound of a door opening. "Alright, I have to check that out."

"What?? Have you not seen any horror movie ever? Don't investigate, you will die! Plus, you're queer and disabled, according to Hollywood, you'll die first."

"Well I guess it's a good thing we're not in Hollywood then," Stephen whispered as he stood up, softly twisting the doorknob and cracking open the door.

"But you still shouldn't go, it could be like someone looking to get revenge on Da- Dad! Dad!" Hela whisper-shouted from inside the room, swearing lightly as she watched him disappear down the hallway with a softball bat he took from her in hand, before then turning back around to glance at her sleeping brother. Should she stay and protect him or follow her stupid-ass dad? Decisions, decisions...

Stephen had no idea why he had taken the bat. If he hit someone with it he'd no doubt end up hurting himself more than the home invader, therefore making its purpose inadequate, but he had still done it. Maybe because it was just a reflex. Threatened? Grab a weapon for protection. But he wouldn't really be able to protect himself with it.

Skipping all the creaky stairs that he had memorized over the years, Stephen crept down the stairs toward where he had heard the noise come from, his hands trembling a bit more than usual as he did. Like they always did when he was nervous. Past the kitchen and down the hallway, he crept along the wall until he finally discovered what was making the noise.

"This is the correct house, right?" the unknown man questioned the unknown woman next to him, raising up what seemed to be some sort of scanner and slowly dragging it in front of the walls. "We're going to be in big trouble if we've broken into some poor unsuspecting person's home. We can't afford a 911 call right now, we're already in enough danger just by coming here."

"Yes, yes, I'm sure, Bruce" the woman responded with a fake annoyed tone that made the man snort lightly. "You hacked the system, I tracked the house, we know what we're doing."

"Yeah, but remember Mongolia?"

The woman winced as the man laughed once more. “I'd rather forget Mongolia. Let’s just focus on finding out where Loki is, that’s our first priority.”

“You’re right, Valkyrie, you’re right.”

Having seen enough to take a good guess at who exactly was intruding, Stephen lowered his bat and carefully crept back upstairs to where his children hid. Thankfully Hela was still there and hadn’t followed him out as he feared.

“Good, you’re not dead! Now who’s out there?” she whispered once the door was carefully closed behind him.

“It’s a man and a woman named Bruce and Valkyrie, late thirties to early forties, and with a lot of weapons. But they’re not robbers, they’re not taking anything, they’re looking for Loki. And something about their nonchalant tone tells me that it’s thankfully not in a negative way. But there’s still two unknown armed assassins in our house,” Stephen quickly detailed, the bat handed off to her as he kneeled down. “And, to be perfectly honest, as your father, I have no idea what to do.”

“Well neither of us have really dealt with assassins before. Well... knowingly,” Hela pointed out.

“True, but we should still do something.”

Hela planned to answer with something; maybe a solution of some sort of escape plan, but she closed her mouth when she heard the third step of the stairs creak like it always did. “They’re on their way up.”

The Strange pair froze out of fear of the unknown, any sliver of a plan completely vanishing from their minds at the sound of their approach, making them no better than sitting ducks.

#lower your expections #but i hope you enjoy #its 8446 last time i checked #i deleted a bit so its not 9 anymore but i'll get back there.

2 notes · View notes

btxtreads · 4 years

Text

whispers || min yoongi

CHAPTER ONE

➳ Fate is such a fickle thing. So easy to tamper with.

↳ Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader (Based off of the Daechwita MV)

↳ word count: 1.5k words

↳ rating: PG-13

↳ genre: fluff, angst, historical AU

↳ Warnings: Swords, Death, A gun, Battle Scenes, Forced Engagement, Failed Execution, Assassination

↳Trigger warning note: PLEASE BE CAREFUL IN READING THIS FIC. IF YOU ARE TRIGGERED BY THE THINGS LISTED ABOVE–PLEASE DO NOT PROCEED UNDER THE KEEP READING SIGN.

↳ a/n: i wrote this for like three days until i realized oh maybe it should be a series so enjoy this first chapter lol also!!!!! i put a lil final fantasy thing here and its kind of a central point to the story lmaooooOoO guys send me some asks im like really bored bls

Empress Y/N

Empress Y/N (1384 – 1461) was the second emperor of the Baekje kingdom during the early Joseon era and one of the best-known queens of the Joseon dynasty. Born to a consort, the ongju only became the heir to the throne when Gongju Sun, only child of the Baekje emperor and the late empress Shin, became the empress of Goguryeo after her marriage with the Emperor—father of the late crown prince Geum—after his queen’s untimely death. Y/N became the first empress to rule without a king in 1413, until her marriage to her royal guard Park Jimin in 1420. The empress was then succeeded by her son, Park Il-Guk, after she and her husband stepped down the throne in 1446. She died of natural causes in 1461.

It was a normal day at the temple when the empress suddenly visited. It was dark and silent—the time of the pig[1].

The heavily pregnant empress of Goguryeo, ever the superstitious, approaches the oracle with a careful bow as she cradled her swollen belly. She was due to birth any time.

“Your highness,” greeted the oracle.

“Priestess Cho,” the empress nodded back. “Apologies for having barged in at such an inconvenient time,”

“None-sense, your majesty.” The priestess replied. “The stars have called you here. Who am I to disagree?”

The queen nodded solemnly before setting her hand on her stomach. “I am to birth at any time. I would like you to tell me about my child.”

And tell her she did.

The priestess whispered a prayer as she lit an incense, then closed her eyes.

As if magic, a prophecy tumbled out of her mouth.

A family of greatness

Birthing a child of weakness

As one approaches his end,

A brother prepares to reign.

The queen gasped as tears welled up in her eyes.

She touched her stomach as she felt her child respond to his mother’s touch.

The stars have spoken.

The unborn child will not reach his seventh year, and he will not see his brother crowned as the heir to the throne.

It had been seven years since then.The country prospered and was better than ever.

The crown prince, Geum, grew up to be a cheerful, kind and intelligent boy. He had an affinity for diplomacy and is exceptionally skilled in warfare and battle strategy. The kingdom loved him.

Prince Yunki, however, was a sad child. Perhaps that was because he was constantly ill and born with a death sentence.

The boy was born with snow white hair, which the queen supposed was the result of his illnesses—though quite unheard of. Despite his affinity for swordsmanship and politics, the boy could barely even wield one.

The queen was disheartened.

Agitated by her son’s fate, the empress once again visits the temple. Once again, she sits across the same oracle.

“Your highness,” greeted the oracle. “You have returned.”

“Priestess Cho. I came for my son,” The queen replied with urgency, no time for pleasantries, “The fates have told you that he will die as his brother ages for the throne.”

“They have.”

“Geum will be groomed for the throne soon,” The queen rushed. “Is the death of Yunki really mapped by the gods?”

“No gods, your grace. Stars—the planet. Destiny. Fate. Whatever it is called.”

“Fate dictates the death of my son?”

“Alas, the stars have changed course.” The oracle whispers. “The spirits whisper.”

“What do they say?”

“That your son will be the fiercest king Goguryeo will meet.” The oracle tells. “The emperor that defies fate and destiny.”

“Priestess Cho, forgive me. I was not talking about Geum.”

“Neither am I.” The priestess replied, shocking the queen into silence as she continued. “He will not die tonight, my queen. Not yet. Not for a long while.”

Perhaps the mistake the queen did that night was not to ask what this entailed.

For the following year, the queen was delighted at what she saw.

Yunki loses his illness, recovering at a fast pace. He grew up a strong prince with fair skin, maintaining his white hair, and a sharp gaze. He became strong and fierce.

The queen perished happily that year, joyed at the fact that her son will live. She returned to the planet as her country mourned.

For years to follow, all was well in the kingdom—they had a crown prince who would rule kindly and another who defied fate.

It wasn’t until years later that it all crashed down.

Prince Geum fell in battle, and the emperor died from grief. Prince Yunki immediately ascended to the throne.

The bitter child that he grew up to be, Emperor Yunki became the mad king. All he did was pillage and burn.

That’s what he did to terrorize nearby cities, that’s what he did to eliminate rebels, and that’s what he did to conquer the Kingdom of Silla.

It was because this that fate finally fixed itself—the planet called the whispers[2].

Min Yoongi was simply… Yoongi.

He didn’t think anything was special about him—well, except for the fact that he was a time-travelling assassin sent to different moments of history to fix details that would change the course of destiny.

It would be nice to see an ancient Korea after the mess I made in America, Yoongi thought as he headed to his mission.

He shuddered at the thought of his previous mission—Yoongi spent two whole years egging Aaron Burr and Alexander Hamilton’s rivalry to end in a duel rather than amicable terms.

Never again.

Shaking his head, Yoongi stepped through time and landed where he needed to, Joseon era—the year 1411.

Yoongi gazed around at the busy street and the lively Goguryeo culture—but that really wasn’t what he’s here for.

Yoongi breathed and nodded to himself.

He was back here to do his mission: assassinate Emperor Yunki and restore the timeline.

Securing his straw hat on his head, Yoongi started to walk through the busy marketplace.

While he did feel weirdly out-of-place, he found that didn’t actually care as long as his cover wasn’t blown.

Three loud bangs on a drum and airy horns were suddenly heard, making him feel alive—Yoongi came at the same time they were playing the Daechwita [3].

Yoongi has always liked music. He liked to play, to listen, to sing and dance and rap. He liked it modern, classical, and traditional—and the Daechwita was one of his favorites. Perhaps it was the ties to his culture.

Intrigued, Yoongi went to watch the captivating performance.

“You really like music, don’t you?” A soft voice hummed next to him. “Obviously, right? A person wouldn’t smile that big while watching the Daechwita if they didn’t like music.”

He turned to see a girl, donned in a plain-looking blue and purple hanbok, tilting her head at him.

Yoongi blinked and turned to leave. “Hey, wait!”

The girl ran after him. “Hello!”

“Goodbye,”

“What’s your name?” The girl persisted, as Yoongi turned to another pathway, his hands in his pockets.

“None of your business.” Yoongi quipped, shooting the girl an irritated gaze.

“Sorry, I just found it really sweet that you were so happy, watching the Daechwita,” the girl continued. “While I do like music too, I really don’t listen to the Daechwita much.”

Yoongi sighed, deciding to humor the girl.

“You’re a commoner, what business do you have listening to the Daechwita?”

“You’re right, nothing!” She smiled.

“Right.”

Yoongi continued walking, vaguely aware of the footsteps following behind him.

“So, what’s your name?”

Yoongi glared at the happy girl, who only smiled back.

“If you refuse tell me, I will call you Daechwita until you do.”

Yoongi huffed and pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “Listen, don’t you have anyone else to bother?”

The girl shrugged. “Not really. Besides, everybody in the country is busy these days.”

At this, Yoongi snapped into attention, turning to the girl to gather intel on his mission. “Why? What’s happening?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” The girl snorted before shrugging. “The emperor of Baekje and his… ah… daughters have arrived. The gongju[4] is going to marry the emperor.”

“Emperor Yunki? A wedding?” Yoongi asked. That bastard is getting married?

“Yes.” The girl nodded, smiling.

“Have you seen the emperor yet?” Yoongi asked curiously, taking note of possible locations.

The girl slowly shook her head. “No, I’ve never seen him. I’m just a visitor.”

“From where?” Yoongi asked.

The girl gulped. “Baekje.”

“Ah,” Yoongi nodded. “What was your name again?”

“…Y/N?” The girl replied hesitantly.

So, this is Empress Y/N of Baekje, Yoongi noted before he shrugged. Didn’t know she was this annoying.

“Okay, then.”

He turned to leave.

“Wait, that’s it? That’s your response? To what I just told you?”

He turned his head and raised an eyebrow. “Yes, was I supposed to say anything else?”

The girl’s eyes lighted up. “No!”

Yoongi rolled his eyes and turned to leave when the girl bounded up next to him.

“So, where are you from?”

Yoongi let out an exasperated sigh.

This was going to be a very long day.

LORE GUIDE:

[1] In the Joseon era, people told time via sundials and water clocks. As they did not follow the modern format of time yet, they based off of animals. The time of the pig means 9:00 – 11:00 PM.

[2] Based off of the Final Fantasy 7 remake, Whispers were entities that were meant to keep destiny in line. They appear at instances where destiny could possibly change course and make sure that whatever needs to happen, happens. However, this can be broken as Cloud and his team destroys all entities and changes the past, present and future—altering the timeline and creating a new one.

[3] Daechwita is a genre of Korean tradition music played with snares and woodwind instruments. This is usually performed during marching or when the king is out.

[4] Ongju and Gongju are both princesses. Gongju, however is the daughter of the king and queen—a crown princess. An ongju is the daughter of the king and a consort.

For other questions DM me,,,, also i just really want people to talk to u

126 notes · View notes

ziracona · 3 years

Note

How do you think the survivors could potentially start Charlotte’s redemption? Which character would be best equipped?

Well, to rehabilitate Charlotte, they’d have to get her to trust them or feel not-negatively towards them long enough to listen, and then find an effective way to communicate, so it’s an interesting question!

Hmmmm. I feel like just talking or pleading wouldn’t have much effect on her, because she sees them as the people who tortured her and got Victor killed, and she’s basically feral, so not only is she at feral disadvantage, she’s not likely to haven even like, Michael Myers’ level of reception to a plea because she sees them as enemy instead of pedestrian. It’s not impossible, but unlikely they’d ever be able to get her in a trial. Best possible set of circumstances would be finding her injured or trapped, and helping her, becuase that kind of forces a person to recognize they’re being treated altruistically. But since that’s unlikely, if they tried to invent a strategy instead of getting lucky and stumbling onto one, I’d think going to her area between trials and leaving gifts for her and FakeVictor and trying to connect outside of trials has the best chance? It’d take a long time, but like, I’m sure they’re cold, and they’ve never had /anything/ nice, so maybe it could get through. It also might help that while none of the survivors are biological siblings, I’m sure in any version of events some of them develop sibling relationships, and if Charlotte became aware of that, it’d definitely help maybe soften them to her. It’d be a tough sell, though. Unfortunately, Victor being killable is Entity genius, becuase the fact the survivors regularly not only inflict pain on her reason for being, but /kill/ him and rehash her trauma, is a super effective way of discouraging Charlotte from ever seeing them as sympathetic.

As for who, I’d have to suggest either Élodie or Claudette or both, since Élodie definitely speaks French and Claudette I have always assumed does, as a French Canadian, and Charlotte /only/ speaks French. Not that someone who speaks none has no chance, but the language ability is a huge help. And as far as I’m recalling, those are the only two who speak French. My best bet would be Élodie and Claudette trying to make clothing for Faketor and Charlotte, since Charlotte would like that if she trusted it ever enough to use it, and would probably like gifts for baby brother even more than herself, as well as just like, them going over to her border regularly and trying to talk kindly or ask her about herself and why she does what she does or where he comes from or talking about themselves, could slowly engratiate them to her a bit. If I was trying to devise a plan, that’d be it. Have the French speakers go be nice to Charlotte and Faketor as much as they can and leave gifts and mostly just try to get her to engage period, and to slowly see them as even maybe not the enemy. If she could ever begin to question their vileness, they’d have the foothold they needed to begin forming a real relationship, explaining the truth to her, and maybe even getting some help searching out ways to escape. Faketor having agency is unfortunately a factor in success, but that could go many ways, so that’s for tomorrow’s brainstorm. 🤔

#thanks! this was fun to think over #I want someone to help the poor girl she deserves it : (#dead by daylight #ask #anonymous #the twins #charlotte deshayes #Vic deshayes #faketor deshayes #victor deshayes

19 notes · View notes

straycat-writes · 4 years

Text

Been A While (Osamu Dazai)

Summary: You run into him after five long years. Let’s just say you both have a lot to unpack.

Stepping precariously on the stepladder, you tried to keep your balance as you arranged the books on the topmost shelf. The bookstore you worked at was mostly empty this time of the afternoon, so you were taking the time to correctly rearrange the books. The customers kept misplacing them after browsing and it was really starting to get on your nerves.

Just then, you hear the faint tinkling of the bell hanging at the entrance, signaling that someone had entered.

“Do we really need to be doing this in the middle of an assignment?” You hear a voice say, frustration evident in it.

“I’m telling you, Atsushi, I need that book. My previous copy got completely drenched the last time I jumped into the river!” Replied another voice, this one slightly deeper.

The first voice sighed, “Fine. Let’s just find someone to help us. Is anybody here?”

“I’ll be right there!” You quickly step down from the ladder you had propped up against the tall bookshelf, dust off your hands and make your way towards the front, “Yes, how may I help you?”

The boy standing in front of you was rather young, with white hair and a kind face. The other person was nowhere to be seen.

“Hi, uh, my coworker here is looking for a specific book…” he craned his neck to try and find his colleague who had wandered off somewhere into the various aisles of bookshelves, before calling out “Dazai-san, what’s it called again?

Your heart skipped a beat. It couldn’t be….

“A Complete Guide to Suicide.” The person replied as he popped back towards the two of you, “Weren’t you paying atten – “

He stopped mid-sentence as he stared at you, who was already frozen in place. He looked…different from the last time you had seen him. Lesser bandages for one, and his signature dark coat was nowhere to be seen. But there was no mistaking it. It was him.

“…Dazai?”

The meekness of your own voice surprised you, while his features melted into an effortless smirk, “Been a while, hasn’t it?”

The white-haired boy, Atsushi, you presumed, looked back and forth between the two of you, “Uh…do you know her, Dazai-san?”

“I do.” Dazai replied with a half-smile, but didn’t elaborate.

“Err…” Atsushi fumbled with himself, “I’ll just…go on ahead alone. You can catch up later.”

With that, he was out like a gust of wind. You weren’t sure if you were relieved by that or not, because right then, talking to this old acquaintance of yours felt more difficult than climbing a mountain. Why had all your words suddenly left you?

The man standing in front of you was oh-so-familiar, and yet still a stranger. His brown eyes were the same as they had always been, except that they somehow looked…brighter, and healthier.

Silence. Then, “How have you been, (y/n)?”

“I’ve been…fine.” The sound of your name dropping from his lips brought back a feeling you hadn’t felt in the past five years. You tried to shake it off and regain your composure.

“I had heard you had defected from the mafia.” You say, “What made the ‘demonic prodigy’ of Ogai Mori turn over to the good side?”

He looked away from your eyes, “Things…happened.”

“When did you leave?”

“A year after you did.” He replied non-chalantly. He was deliberately being curt in his answers.

And you knew not to question it further. Five years ago, when you had somehow been lucky enough to be let go from that dark hell, Osamu Dazai was still an executive of the Port Mafia, and the scariest man in all of Yokohama.

But barely a year after you had left and started building a new life for yourself, you heard hushed rumours about him leaving. After that, he had just…disappeared. It wasn’t strange, per se, but you had always wondered what became of him.

“So, what are you doing now?” You asked finally.

He smiled and shrugged non-chalantly, “I work for the Armed Detective Agency.”

“Really? How did – “

“Say whatever you want, I never imagined someone like you would end up working at a bookshop of all places.” He said with a grin.

You sighed. Cutting people off in the middle was an old strategy of his when he wanted to avoid answering questions. You knew once he starts doing that, there’s no use of trying.

You shook your head, “What’s wrong with working in a bookshop?”

“Mm, nothing.” He laughs, “It’s just…unusual to see you in such a docile atmosphere. After all, you did use to be one of our fiercest assassins.”

You stiffened up at his words. That part of your past was something you wanted to bury, so far deep that no one would ever be able to reach it. But this bastard just had to come sauntering in and pick that bone.

“Can I help you with what you’re looking for?” You asked curtly.

“Come, now…” Dazai said softly as he noticed the change in your demeanour, his features softening immediately. He changed the subject, “Have you been here in Yokohama this entire time?”

You shook your head as you slowly walked back to the nearest shelf, looking for the book he wanted. You replied without looking at him, “I had left the country for a while. Only came back a year or so ago.”

“I see.”

You weren’t sure what exactly he saw. Five years ago, you had worked both beside and under him. You knew first-hand what kind of person he used to be when he was playing the part of the youngest executive in the history of the Port Mafia. You knew just how cold-hearted and ruthless he could be, to his enemies, and even to his own subordinates. You had always felt sorry for Akutagawa.

But even back then, you thought there might be a sliver of hope. There had to be a human inside there somewhere…right?

You had never been able to figure him out. He was this far-away entity who was as interesting as he was frightening, as confusing as he was intimidating. Besides, you were never able to figure what exactly it was that you felt, so you kept your distance.

But there was this little flicker of something, maybe it was hope, maybe something else, that you carried with you. You only realized this now, and wondered why you had been foolish enough to not abandon it as soon as it materialized.

Associating with Dazai was just asking for trouble. That had always been the case.

A Complete Guide to Suicide. You sighed as you walked back with the book and handed it to him, “I see you haven’t changed that much, after all. When will you stop trying to kill yourself?”

He winked, “When I’ve perfected a way to die.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help smiling a little. Despite what you had just said, you could see that he had changed a bit. And you liked this Dazai better.

There was silence for a while, but you could practically see the gears turning in his head as figured how to proceed to whatever he wanted to do next. You knew he wouldn’t ask you anymore questions about the past five years. It was an unspoken mutual agreement that neither of you was willing to answer any more questions about the past.

A small smile made its way across his face, “What do you say we go out for a drink sometime?”

You blinked. That was probably the last thing you had expected him to say and for a moment, you were conflicted. Memories of all that you had seen and done, all that he had done, flashed before your eyes. Gun-shots and blades and sickening smiles, the constant smell of leather and iron, taking a life as if it meant nothing. And of course, the blood, just…so much blood. You squeezed your eyes shut. You had done all that. And Dazai was there to see it.

Would this really be such a great idea? What if you walked right back into what you were so desperately trying to escape from?

Dazai seemed to sense your hesitation, immediately deducing what was going through your head, and smiled wistfully. He had expected this. And perhaps it was for the better.

“Alright, then.” He said as he paid for the book, the wistful smile on his face replaced by a cheerful grin. You scoffed. Who is he trying to fool?

He had just turned around to leave, when you finally mustered up everything you had, and spoke, “Wait!”

He stopped, turning back to look at you, head tilted slightly as if to question you. You found yourself thinking he looked adorable like that, and immediately chided yourself for thinking that at this particular moment.

You took a deep breath to try and still the thudding of your heart, “About that drink…I’d…I’d like that.”

#osamu dazai #dazai x reader #one-shot #scenario #port mafia #mafia dazai #reunion #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd #drabble #imagines

492 notes · View notes

mimosaeyes · 4 years

Text

Jon still gets nightmares.

Set in a post-canon ‘verse where they save the world, build a life together, and adopt a cat. It’s a series now! This fic (2.7k) works standalone, but is best read after the others, especially I Was Found (13.2k of softness). Everything below the cut will spoil you for the end of that fic.

Beta-ed by @emberidzae. Thank you for telling me it’s probably fine.

There is a special kind of quiet that occupies a room near two in the morning. The refrigerator hums, the water pipes whine, sirens go off in the distance — this is London, after all. But beneath that lies stillness, elusive like the space between breaths.

Jon sits on the sofa, rocking ever so slightly and waiting for... he doesn’t even know what. For peace to slip into his lungs. Be carried along in his blood, spread throughout his brain. Every time he blinks, he thinks he sees horrific afterimages on the backs of his eyelids. Tonight, his dreams have been full of bodies: burning, running, festering, falling, twisting, crying, choking. Closing in on all sides of him, until his sight was completely obscured.

Out of that apparent void, a single, all-encompassing eye mired in spiderwebs had opened, and looked directly at him. Under its scrutiny, it was as if he and Martin had never fixed the world he’d broken. Never torn themselves out of the Mother of Puppets’ plots, or away from the Ceaseless Watcher.

He exhales slowly, burying his face in his hands. Surely he should be used to nightmares by now. He’s had a long history with them, between statement givers and his own encounters with entities and avatars. The dreams were always vivid and hallucinatory, clinging to him as he struggled toward consciousness and woke gasping, often clutching the arms of the office chair he’d dozed off in. Later, after he ended the world, he’d stopped sleeping entirely. Slumber no longer carried the promise of rest.

No one remembers clearly what happened to them in the domains during the apocalypse. That collective, polyphonic torment now lives on only in Jon’s mind. He may not be affiliated with the Beholding anymore, but some part of him will always be the Archive.

The frustrating thing is that over the last year and a bit, the nightmares have been happening less and less frequently. He’d actually thought they were going away, but all week now, Jon’s been waking up screaming or sobbing, tangled in the sheets, his pyjamas soaked through with cold sweat. Martin hasn’t gotten through a night undisturbed, either. They’re both exhausted; that’s probably why he managed to slip out of bed without alerting him initially.

Just then, a slight sound makes him look to his left. What he sees is so incongruous to his mood that he begins huffing in silent laughter.

Boo, the smaller of their two cats, is using one front paw to bat at his ear, on which a large dust bunny appears to be stuck. It’s a slightly lighter grey than his fur, else Jon may not have even seen it.

Jon knows the exact moment Boo notices him looking, because he stiffens for a second. He’s been with them for a little over a month now, and while their efforts to make him feel at ease in their home have paid off somewhat, he remains jumpy.

Jon holds perfectly still. After a few seconds, Boo returns to his scratching, but to no avail. The dust bunny somehow ends up entangled in his whiskers, stretching between them and the tip of his ear. Boo shakes his head once, twice. Then he sneezes — and arches his back, his fur standing on end.

He had actually startled himself with his own sneeze. Jon can’t help cracking a smile, endeared and grateful for the distraction, inadvertent though it may be.

Clearing his throat quietly, he asks, “Would you like some help with that?”

Boo ignores him, which is ideal. It takes a certain amount of trust on this cat’s part to be considered beneath notice — meaning, not a threat. When Jon gets off the sofa and tries to approach, though, Boo freezes and watches him warily. So he sits down on the floor instead, thinking.

After a while, he begins softly singing the alphabet.

Immediately, Boo’s look changes from alert to curious. Whenever Jon has had the opportunity to do so, he’s been reading aloud to get Boo used to hearing his voice. Assembly instructions for a new shelf, dubious job listings he finds online, the weekly shopping list. At first, this strategy had been very successful. Boo learned to stop diving for cover every time Jon or Martin called for each other from another room. Then came the day Jon paused midway through washing up after dinner, to find Boo sitting not two metres away from his feet. It had been a crowning moment of triumph until Martin said, “You hum songs when you do the dishes, did you know? I think he likes it.”

Jon had somehow not been aware of this habit. He was instantly embarrassed.

Not that he’s stopped since it was pointed out to him. He’s actually been experimenting. Boo may have a certain fondness for ‘90s power ballads.

Which he is hardly going to attempt at this time of night. Instead, Jon cycles through the rainbow song and that one about the teapot, making no move as Boo cautiously approaches, blue eyes huge and unblinking. When he’s within an arm’s length, Jon stops singing and offers his hand for Boo to sniff at.

Purring now, Boo lets himself be pet. Jon seizes his chance and gently pulls off the dust bunny. “Now where did you even get this?” he wonders aloud. They’re generally diligent about household chores, especially keeping the place clean. Martin has allergies, and Jon likes the routine.

Boo nudges up into his fingers and leaves a smudge of fine dust on them.

A sneaking suspicion enters Jon’s mind. He narrows his eyes at the cat. “You’ve been in the study all day,” he says. “I saw you go in. And the desk has that jammed drawer, doesn’t it?”

They’ve been meaning to fix that. The drawer is stuck just wide open enough for dust to collect on the inside. And apparently, for a skinny, timid cat to make his hiding place.

“Well, that’s one mystery solved,” Jon muses, continuing to pet Boo despite the dirt. “Filthy boy,” he says affectionately. “Scruffy. Crumpet will refuse to cuddle with you.”

Mrow, Boo protests in his low, bullfrog-like way. He’s much less vocal than his calico counterpart, so Jon doesn’t get to hear this often.

“I suppose you’re right. She’ll probably just try to clean all this off you. She dotes on you, doesn’t she?”

He falls silent for a while, until Boo indicates with a flick of his tail that he’s had enough. Jon lets him wander some distance off and begin grooming.

In the lull of activity, the memory of his nightmare comes back with a vengeance, screaming in his brain and making him suck a breath in through his teeth. He had known their names as they struggled in their personal hells at the end of the world, had drunk his fill of their suffering and felt sated in that most inhuman side of himself.

It’s since been ripped away, of course, taking with it the voyeuristic detachment that had, in a perverse way, protected him from the distress his nightmares now cause him. Yet it scares Jon that that had ever been a part of him. Ever found suitable soil and taken root.

He’s fine, though. Or so he keeps telling himself. These aren’t the worst dreams, after all. No, those are the ones where he loses Martin. In the Panopticon. In the house on Hill Top Road. To the call of the Lonely. To the slip of a knife in the Hunt. There were so many ways one or both of them could have not survived. Not gotten to have everything they now have together.

Jon swallows and massages his temples. “Boo,” he says, “you’re afraid of everything. Any tips?”

Boo looks at him for a long moment, then yawns.

“I see,” Jon starts to say, just as a strangled cry comes from the street below. One of London’s many foxes, probably. Jon has learned to tune out this sort of thing, but the sound sends Boo scrambling for shelter.

And he runs to Jon.

“Oh, it’s okay,” Jon murmurs. “Just a fox. It’s over now. It’s okay.” After hesitating a moment, he picks Boo up and deposits him on his lap, then encircles the cat loosely with his arms. He doesn’t squish him — it’s Crumpet who likes to be bundled up and snuggled. He just sort of surrounds Boo, letting him mash his face into the crook of Jon’s elbow.

It takes a long time for Boo’s fur to settle back down. Jon starts stroking him after a minute, keeping his movements soothingly slow. “You’re safe here,” he tells him.

Then he sighs and repeats quietly, to himself, “You’re safe. You’re here. It’s over.”

Boo leaps off his lap, rumbles at him, then darts back into the study. Jon watches him go, shaking his head. A problem for tomorrow.

He sighs, then pauses and deliberately takes a deep breath. He holds it for a count of five before releasing the air. He imagines tension bleeding away as he does.

Martin had taught him this technique back in the safehouse in Scotland — far from the first time Jon had had nightmares, but certainly the first time anyone had been there to comfort him when he woke up. Progressive muscle relaxation, Martin said it was called. He’d used it himself during his stay in the Archives, whenever those thirteen days he spent trapped in his flat by Jane Prentiss came back to haunt him.

“Breathe in, tense? Okay, now hold,” he murmured, sitting up in bed next to Jon, his silhouette familiar and comforting against the yellow glow cast by the bedside light. It had been on by the time Jon surfaced into consciousness, still panting and crying.

“One one-thousand, two one-thousand, three, four, five,” Martin counted for him. “Release, breathe out.” His hands ran over Jon’s shoulders, warm and soothing. “Better?”

Jon nodded. “A bit,” he said, his voice a little hoarse. He must have yelled in his sleep before Martin managed to rouse him. “Listen, you... you don’t have to do this. I can go sleep on the couch.”

Martin went silent for a moment. “The other day, when I dreamt I was back in the Lonely. Did it cross your mind to kick me out, even for a second?”

“No,” Jon said at once, shocked. “Of course not.”

“Then that’s settled,” Martin said firmly. “You’re not okay, and I can help. That’s all there is to it. On to your arms next, ready? Breathe in, tense...”

Alone in their living room, but following Martin’s instructions from before, Jon works his way through various muscle groups until he gets to his hands, at which point he clenches his fists and presses his knuckles down against the floor on either side of his thighs. That probably isn’t recommended. He hasn’t done it hard enough to hurt, though, and he needs the sensation, he thinks, to ground himself in reality. To remind himself that he’s here in their tiny apartment, and if he goes to peer out the window, the sky will not look back at him.

He’s here and it’s long past midnight, but if he texts Daisy, she will grouse good-naturedly, then call him to ramble about how the new podcast she’s started listening to is pretty good, but could never measure up to The Archers. If he goes back to the bedroom and tells his husband he needs him, Martin will rub his eyes and get up to make Jon some tea. He’ll put in milk and sugar, which always seems too indulgent for Jon to do himself, and they’ll cuddle up with a book, or in front of the telly with the volume turned way down.

The people he loves, who love him in return, are within reach. Even when they’re not there next to him. Jon knows this in a way that has nothing to do with the Beholding. It’s just hard to remember sometimes.

He exhales one final time, and that’s when Martin appears in the doorway to their bedroom.

“Hey,” he says quietly, looking soft and rumpled in his pyjamas. His voice is rough with sleep, low with concern. “I woke up and you weren’t there. Is this a bad night?”

Another one, you mean? Jon wants to say bitterly. He bites it back; it’s only the sleep deprivation talking. “I just needed a moment to clear my head,” he says, clambering to his feet. “Let’s go back to bed.”

He honestly feels a lot better, and he thinks he’s done a decent job of sounding normal. He must still look like a mess, though, because Martin frowns and stops him from squeezing past. “Wait. Do you want to talk about it?”

Jon’s already shaking his head. “No. It was just... more of the same.” The first few times, Martin had stayed up with him while Jon stammered out the things he’d seen in his dreams. He listened and tried to reassure him, and it had helped to an extent. But the more Jon spoke, the harder Martin’s lips pressed together in that way that meant he was horrified and trying to hide it. Jon had grown all too familiar with that expression during their walk through the domains.

He clears his throat. “Really, Martin. Everything’s fine.”

“Then why’d you come out here by yourself? Why didn’t you wake me?”

“Well, I thought one of us should get some sleep,” Jon says drily, only he’s tired, so it comes out rather snappy.

Martin cants his head at him, his brows pinching together. Jon can practically hear the gears whirring in his mind. He shifts uncomfortably.

“I know it’s been a bad week,” Martin says at last, softly, “but please don’t shut me out.”

As soon as he says it, Jon knows that that’s what he’d been trying to do tonight. Keep his nightmares and guilt to himself, protect Martin from the horrors he knows about anyway. At least, that was his excuse. It’s not that Jon didn’t want his help; he did. It had simply felt too selfish to ask for it.

Jon watches him for a long moment. He thinks about fear, and love, and self-isolation. He thinks about Martin waking up in the safehouse smelling like sea spray; about telling him to Breathe, just breathe. You’re not alone. Not anymore. He thinks about a little grey scaredy-cat who feels safe with Jon, of all people.

“I won’t,” he says. “I promise.”

Martin gives him a small smile. “Okay. How can I help?”

Jon bites his lip. “Would you... would you just hold me, please?”

“Oh, Jon.” Weary though he is, Martin’s look is full of sympathy. “Of course.”

Jon follows him back to bed. As he lifts his side of the covers, Martin says, “Ah, careful. I think Crumpet’s settled in the warm spot you left.”

He peers in the darkness. Indeed she has. “Your Royal Highness,” he greets her, bowing slightly. That’s the appropriate form of address for a princess. It doesn’t roll off the tongue very easily, but Martin groans and rolls his eyes whenever Jon says it, so he keeps doing the bit.

He can never bear to move either of their cats if they look comfy, so he gets into bed gingerly and ends up pressed close to Martin, who loops an arm over him. They’re face to face, with mere inches separating them.

“Hi,” Jon says, somewhere between shy and pleased.

“Hi,” Martin says back at him, his smile colouring the word. Jon thinks they could be seventy years old and still greet each other like that, bashful and sweet as teenagers with a crush.

Jon tucks his face against Martin’s shoulder, humming in contentment at the warmth and solidity of him. After a while, he mumbles, “By the way. Boo needs a bath.”

Martin laughs. “That’ll be an adventure. Why?”

His voice is light, but betrays how tired he is. Jon shifts and presses a kiss to his cheek. “Tell you in the morning. Go to sleep.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes,” Jon says slowly. “I think I will be.”

[my TMA fic on AO3]

#the magnus archives #jonmartin #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #mimofic

39 notes · View notes

handsome-flower · 4 years

Text

Damien put down his book and sighed, looking out the open window next to his bed. The birds chirping, the sun rays falling lazily on the grass and the far, happy chatter of his friends were parts of a scene that the young man would love to take part in, if only his damn hip hadn’t decided to make him suffer. Despite the medication, there were these days were the pain was unbearable and he couldn’t get up at all and only barely move.

“Dames?”

He turned his head towards the voice and saw Mark standing in the doorframe. Damien smiled and tried to sit, but the action sent a flash of pain in his side, making him hiss and letting himself fall back on the bed. He would have fell a bit harder if Mark hadn’t rushed to his side to help him lay down correctly again.

“I’ll take you’re not getting better?” the other boy asked with a gentle smile.

Damien shook his head “I’m sorry… I wish I could be down there with you all but-“

“It’s fine! It’s not your fault, don’t worry. I just came in to check if you weren’t too lonely!”

“I… honestly, I am. Just a little though, you don’t need to worry about me.”

Mark waved his hand to dismiss that last statement.

“Of course I worry about you Damien; you’re my friend, and you’re in pain.” He stopped and frowned, seeming now worried. “You know I care a lot about you, right?”

Damien laid a hand on Mark’s and squeezed it gently.

“I know, Mark, I know. I care about you too.”

Mark looked down at their hands then back up, a slight blush on his face, before clearing his throat.

“Well hum… I heard that Chef was making lemonade. I can ask the butler to bring us two glasses, and I can keep you company if you want.”

“That would be nice!”

“Ok! I’ll be right back then!” the young man said before sprinting out of the room. Damien couldn’t help but chuckle, before looking out again, this time with a dreamy smile lighting his face.

Dark hissed as his broken body throbbed, leaving him unable to move. His muscles were also as tense as their altered state allowed it, which wasn’t helping. He hated those days, less because of the pain, but more because he was weak and defenceless. He dreaded that someone would open the door of his room and see him, discovering that their strong, respected leader had a weakness. The vision in itself was unacceptable.

The entity pushed on one of his elbows, trying to gather his strength and stand up, only to fail and fall down. A painful scream escaped him as his aura flashed around the room.

He was shaking, trying again to get out of bed when a cold hand gripped his shoulder. His whole body tensed, but the pain was keeping him from shaking the intruder away.

“Hush hush darling, this is not serious! You should be taking some rest.” The familiar, honeyed voice of the Actor whispered in his ear.

“Leave me alone.” Dark growled, his jaw clenched.

“My dear Damien, you’re still so stubborn. I know you love your work, but you’re clearly not able to do anything right now. So“ -he slowly helped Dark lay down before pulling the covers on him again- “let me just assist you with that.”

“Why? You could slay me easily right now. So why this sudden surge of kindness?”

The Actor shook his head with a light chuckle while tucking him in.

“Well, there’s nothing grand or heroic in striking an enemy on the ground, now is it? Besides…”

Mark leaned down and planted a soft kiss on the other man’s forehead, his hand cupping the pale cheek.

“You know I care about you.”

The demon could only scoff as the Hero started to tenderly stroke his hair, occasionally shushing him. Dark couldn’t help but close his eyes, his body relaxing slowly.

In another life, he could have enjoyed it, letting himself fall asleep under the touch. But in this life, it wasn’t good. The Actor was his enemy, and he wasn’t going to let his sick mind make anything out of this interaction. For all he knew, it could be a strategy to stab him in the back when his last defences were low enough.

It’s not good he told himself again as the weight on the mattress next to him vanished and a slight, unwanted ache rose in his chest.

#actor mark #damien the mayor #darkiplier #marmien #darkactor #tw chronic pain #just in case #GUESS WHO'S BACK ON HER BULLSHIT #miss me?#my writing

43 notes · View notes

fantasticstoryteller · 3 years

Text

Kingdoms ch. 69

Wade watched the faces of the people in the room with a smile. Demanding to be sent home was Peter’s idea. Having Peter walk into the room that Steve, Bucky, Tony, and Pepper were in carrying both of their travel bags (now even bulkier with the gifts they’d gotten from people in Mysterio) while Wade only carried the two spidlings was Wade’s idea. The looks on their faces was priceless.

“Hold on,” said Bruce slowly, “there’s a lot about the entity that we still don’t know.”

“We know,” said Peter with inescapable logic, “that the war is going on. We know that we’re all still being attacked. And as much as I’m enjoying the stay here, we need to go back home.”

“Yes,” agreed Steve. His advisers looked at him and he met their gazes squarely before turning his attention back to the ambassador. “You now know,” he said slowly, “how our mix of magic and technology works. Soon we’ll have to take to the field to support Arachne against Ajax.” He paused and then met Peter’s eyes again. “I’m counting on you to take our abilities into count when making your strategy.”

Wade expected Peter to demur, to say that Harry was the one who made military strategies, but the omega simply nodded. Tony sighed. “Kid,” he said solemnly, “it’s been a pleasure.” Tony looked at Wade. “You’ve been an ass.”

Wade nodded just as solemnly. “Of course,” he said simply as Pepper smacked her mate’s arm. The pink spidling in his arms jumped down, raced over to Pepper, and jumped in her arms before rubbing its head under her chin and running back to Wade.

Pepper smiled warmly. “Aw,” she cooed.

“Creepy,” said Tony staring at the baby spiders.

Bruce sighed. “Well,” he said as he stood up, “it’s simply not possible to open the Crystal Gate in this room. Please follow me.”

“How does he do that?” whispered Tony as Peter adjusted the two giant bags slightly and followed Bruce.

Wade simply grinned at the man and followed his mate, the two baby spiders in his arms making content noises. He knew that one of the most surprising things about the spiders, to the uninitiated, was the noise. They were almost always making some kind of communicative noise. Wade loved it.

“I figured out why the venom is good about protecting from insects,” Bruce commented as the three of them traipsed through the halls. Well, Peter and Bruce were walking. Wade was partially dancing—he wanted to go home too, home to his and Peter’s rooms in the temple where the stone was thick enough that no one heard anything going on in the bedroom.

“Why?” asked Peter.

“Inside the insects is a molecule called hemocyanin, which allows the insects to exchange oxygen and carbon dioxide,” lectured Bruce.

Wade simply nodded. He didn’t know if Peter knew what the man was talking about, but he was clueless. The back of Peter’s head seemed interested.

“The way that the—the red blood cells do for humans?” asked Peter eagerly.

“Erythrocytes, yes,” said Bruce with a nod. “There’s a protein in the venom that breaks the bond of the hemocyanin molecule.”

“So, it suffocates the insects?” asked Peter curiously. Wade could only grin at the mix of curious, happy, content from the bonding mark. Peter loved learning.

“It does. It also, for some reason that I haven’t been able to understand, stimulates collagen, which is why it’s good for skin as well.”

“What’s collagen?” asked Peter.

Wade let the rest of the conversation wash over him. He didn’t really need to know as he followed them to the room that the two of them (four, including the baby spiders) had arrived in. Still lecturing, Bruce set up the Crystal Gate and Peter calmly tossed the baggage through—and then looked at the gate with a dawning expression of horror.

“I’m sure everyone cleared out when the magic portal opened in the middle of the room,” Wade reassured his mate gently. The red and blue baby spider jumped from Wade’s shoulder to Peters and gently nibbled on his ear with its mandibles as it made a soothing croon.

“It’s done now, anyway,” muttered Peter. He shook himself all over. “Thank you, Bruce,” he said holding out his hand in the Mysterio custom as he met the man’s eyes. “I know it couldn't have been easy to teach someone like me.”

“Nonsense,” said Bruce breezily as he gently shook the omega’s hand. No matter how strong Peter proved himself to be, there was something in the biology of those from Mysterio that said omegas were to be treated gently. Wade, for the most part, agreed. “You’ve been a real pleasure. Especially after having to deal with entitled little brats who think they already know everything.”

“I don’t think Tony would appreciate you calling him that,” advised Wade.

Bruce merely chuckled and offered his hand to the alpha. “Take care, Wade,” the man said meeting his eyes fearlessly.

Wade bat his eyes flirtatiously. “Who, me?” he asked.

Peter gently nudged him. “Watch it,” he warned affectionately, “or I might get jealous.”

Wade crushed Peter in a hug, both baby spiders squeaking in indignation as they moved out of the way. “Perish the thought,” he murmured. Peter laughed and after a final goodbye, the two of them stepped through the gate and towards their home.

#Spider-Man #Spideypool #Deadpool #omegaverse

7 notes · View notes

boysenberrybrew · 4 years

Text

7-Year D.A.D.A. Syllabus (Professor!Harry AU)

I’m a sucker for details, so I made up a syllabus for all seven years of Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts (as I headcanon Harry would teach it) for the fic I’m writing. Figure that, since I already made it, I might as well put it out there. Feel free to use it — or parts of it — for fanworks of your own.

Two things!

For each year, I list topics to be covered and group some learning objectives or specifications/suggestions under each topic — but they’re not in order. Professor!Harry wouldn’t cover solely one topic at a time, but most likely group topics together and teach the necessary spells as the class went through activities.

I also made two lists of spells under each Year — one which lists the spells students would learn while in DADA class, and another which lists the spells that students might use in DADA class but which would be learned in either Transfiguration or Charms.

More essay-length notes included at the very end of the Read More, since this is already getting too long.

[Syllabus begins]

Year 1: What kinds of danger are there in the wizarding world? And how do you know something is dangerous?

“...Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can’t see where it keeps its brain! Why didn’t you show the diary to me, or your mother? A suspicious object like that, it was clearly full of Dark Magic--”

“I d-didn’t know...”

(HP&CS, ch 18)

Topics to Cover:

Detecting Danger

Identify potentially dangerous objects

Identify suspicious situations

Common Encounters

Ghosts

Poltergeists

Hags

Vampires

Ghouls

Doxies

Calling for Help

Shoot red and green sparks from wands

Describe what Aurors are and know when to call them

Accurately operate the Floo network

Physical — Reflexes and Speed

Snowball fights with low visibility, catch a practice snitch

Tag, races

Spells to Learn:

Human-presence Revealing Spell (Homenum Revelio)

Jinx Revealing Spell [not canon, as far as I know, but it should be!]

Green Sparks Spell (Verdillious)

Red Sparks Spell (Vermillious)

Smokescreen Spell (Fumos)

Spells to Use Besides:

Wand-Lighting Charm (Lumos)

Wand-Extinguishing Charm (Nox)

Year 2: How do wizards fight with magic? And what do you do if you’re hit by a spell?

“I don’t think Expelliarmus is exactly going to help us against You-Know-Who, do you?”

“I’ve used it against him [...] But if you think it’s beneath you, you can leave,” Harry said.

Smith did not move. Nor did anybody else.

(HP&OotP, ch 18)

Topics to Cover:

Dueling — Introduction

Rules to formal dueling

Stances

Healing — Introduction

Basic principles: clean the wound, stop the blood flow, don’t sleep in case of head injury

Potions and salves interlude: identify which substances are needed in the healing and care of different types of wounds, including bites, stings, lacerations, and blunt trauma

Chocolate

Uncommon Encounters

Banshees

Trolls

Zombies

Pogrebin

Yetis

Kappas

Dragons

Physical — Accuracy and Coordination

Target practice, both spellfire and nonmagical, still and moving

Spells to Learn:

Full Body-Bind Curse (Petrificus Totalus)

Leg-Locker Curse (Locomotor Mortis)

Knockback Jinx (Flipendo)

Trip Jinx [incantation unknown]

Freezing Charm (Immobulus)

Disarming Charm (Expelliarmus)

Spells to Use Besides:

General Counter-Spell (Finite Incantatem)

Dancing Feet Spell (Tarantallegra)

Tickling Charm (Rictusempra)

Year 3: How do you defend yourself against dark creatures? How do you defend when at a disadvantage?

The screwt was inches from him when it froze — he had managed to hit it on its fleshy, shell-less underside. Panting, Harry pushed himself away from it and ran, hard, in the opposite direction — the Impediment Curse was not permanent; the screwt would be regaining the use of its legs at any moment.

(HP&GoF, ch 31)

Topics to Cover:

Dark Creatures

Red Caps

Grindylows

Hinkypunks

Boggarts

Werewolves

Acromantulas

Lethifolds

Dementors

Basiliks

Inferi

Physical — Endurance and Teamwork

Mock-battles in teams

Activity after performing magically-exhausting spells

Obstacle courses

Dueling — Creative Thinking

Use physical surroundings to an advantage

Apply spells to surroundings as distraction, obstacle, or shelter

Charms and Transfiguration encouraged

Create viable strategies in various terrains

Spells to Learn:

Boggart-Banishing Spell (Riddikulus)

Spider Repelling Spell (Arania Exumai)

Patronus Charm (Expecto Patronum) — incorporeal

Freezing Spell (Glacius)

Banishing Charm (Depulso)

Spells to Use Besides:

Fire-Making Spell (Incendio)

Softening Charm (Spongify)

Lumos Maxima

Severing Charm (Diffindo)

Engorgement Charm (Engorgio)

Shrinking Charm (Reducio)

Avifors [turns small objects into birds]

Reparifarge [un-transfiguration spell, undo wrong castings]

Locomotion Charm (Locomotor)

Year 4: When is the law on your side? Can you talk your way out of a dangerous situation?

“Cruc—”

“NO!” shouted Hermione [...]

Ron froze, his eyes wide; Ginny stopped trying to stamp on her Slytherin captor’s toes; even Luna looked mildly surprised.

(HP&OotP, ch 32)

Topics to Cover:

Legality

Identify when it is legally advisable to defend using magic

Identify the types of magic that are illegal and why — the Unforgivables, necromancy, muggle-baiting, etc.

Conflict De-escalation

Think critically even while provoked or afraid

Identify hostile entity’s POV and immediate desires, and use these to stall, lie, reason, trap, compromise, bargain, and/or flee

Reason-able Entities

Review: Vampires, hags, banshees

Sphinxes

Giants

Merfolk

Counter-Curses

Understand theory of counter-curses

Describe what counter-spells work for which curses

Physical — Competitive Dueling — Reading an Opponent’s Style

Apply different spellcasting and dueling strategies

Identify strategies used by opponent and counter them

Use opponent’s characteristics and habits against them

Spells to Learn:

Shield Charm (Protego)

Stunning Spell (Stupefy)

Reviving Spell (Rennervate)

Impediment Jinx (Impedimenta)

Reductor Curse (Reducto)

Deprimo [blast hole in floor]

Patronus Charm (Expecto Patronum) — corporeal

Spells to Use Besides:

Summoning Charm (Accio)

Ventus [strong gust of wind]

Year 5: What does DADA look like in the real world?

“You don’t know what it’s like! You — neither of you[...] You think it’s just memorizing a bunch of spells and throwing them at him[...] The whole time you’re sure you know there’s nothing between you and dying except your own — your own brain or guts or whatever — [...] they’ve never taught us that in their classes[...]”

(HP&OotP, ch 15)

Topics to Cover:

Review!!!!

All Common Encounters

Zombies, inferi, banshees, werewolves, boggarts, and hinkypunks

Dueling rules, stances, and common strategies

Legality

Counter-curse theory and practical

Knockback Jinx, Disarming Charm, Boggart-Banishing Spell, Shield Charm, Stunning Spell, Impediment Jinx, and Patronus Charm

Passive Defense

Understand warding theory

Describe the use and purpose of various wards

Physical — Competitive Dueling — Fighting as a Team

Apply all previous Physical and Dueling objectives in a team competition, in both dueling platforms and challenging terrains

Survival Skills

Apply all previous knowledge to survive various dangerous hypothetical situations

Student presentation!

Spells to Learn:

Salvio hexia [deflects hexes in an area]

Cave inimicum [conceals presence within an area so caster can’t be seen, heard, or smelled]

Intruder Charm [alarms caster]

Caterwauling Charm [loud alarm]

Shield Charm variants (Protego Maxima, Protego Totalum, Protego Horribilis)

Patronus Charm (Expecto Patronum) — corporeal against pseudo-dementor

Spells to Use Besides:

[literally any spell they can think of that might help them in the hypothetical situations posed]

Year 6: What does dark magic look like? What can it do? And what can we do against it?

“The Dark Arts,” said Snape, “are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal[...] You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible[...] Your defenses,” said Snape, a little louder, “must therefore be as flexible and inventive as the arts you seek to undo...”

(HP&HBP, ch 9)

Topics to Cover:

Dark Arts Case Study — Curses

Students choose a specific dark curse/spell and research how it’s been used in the past, what it does, how it works, and most importantly, how to counter it

Curse-Breaking

Recognize common curses, identify them on objects or locations

Know how to remove said curses

Safely handle the cursed object or location while removing the curse

Healing — Spells

Know when to use foundational healing spells and in what order

Understand the danger of incorrectly-cast healing spells and avoid such situations [not canon, but headcanon of mine]

Dueling — Nonverbal Casting

Emphasis on being able to cast the General Counter-Spell, Shield Charm, and Disarming Charm nonverbally with confidence

Introduction to spells that work better when nonverbal

Spells to Learn:

Episkey [heals small lacerations]

Anapneo [unblocks airway]

Bandaging Charm (Ferula)

Vulnera Sanetur [heals serious wounds]

Confundus Charm (Confundo)

Patronus Charm (Expecto Patronum) — nonverbal

[ideally, I’d list curse-breaking spells here, but I can’t find any canon ones, so... insert spells that break curses here]

Students will inevitably learn dark curses, though they are not expected to (are in fact, expected not to) use them

Spells to Use Besides:

Tergeo [wipes clean]

Switching Spell [incantation unknown]

Silencing Spell (Silencio)

Year 7: How have wizards used dark magic? And how do you defend against esoteric magic?

It’s gone wrong, he thought… it’s drowned… please… please let it be dead…

But then, though the mist in front of him, he saw, with an icy surge of terror, the dark outline of a man, tall and skeletally thin, rising slowly from inside the cauldron […]

Lord Voldemort had risen again.

(HP&GoF, ch 32)

Topics to Cover:

Review!!!!

Dueling strategies and nonverbal casting

All Dark Creatures

Counter-curses

Curse-Breaking

Passive Defense

Shield Charm, Disarming Charm, Boggart-Banishing Spell, Stunning Spell, and Patronus Charm all nonverbal, plus [spells that break curses, whatever your headcanon is for them]

Dueling — Nonverbal and Competitive

Strictly nonverbal competitive dueling, applying all past lessons

Dark Arts Case Study — Dark Wizards

Students choose a dark witch or wizard from history and research how they gained influence, what sorts of dark magic they were known for, and how one might defend oneself against them

Mind Magic

Understand Legilimency and how to apply Occlumency against it (practical challenge optional and with consent)

Identify being under the influence of mind-altering curses and potions (including the Imperius Curse, Confundus Charm, love potions, and Veritaserum) and practice techniques to fight against them (practical challenge only with consent, highly encouraged)

Understand the theory of possession and how to throw it (no practical)

Spells to Learn:

Patronus Charm (Expecto Patronum) — completely mastered

Students will inevitably learn dark curses, though they are not expected to (are in fact, expected not to) use them

Spells to Use Besides:

Focus continues to be using previously-known spells nonverbally [so, once again, any spells can be under this category]

[Syllabus ends]

Notes

When making this, I tried to keep in mind

What Harry, based on his life experiences, might believe students need to learn

How difficult spells are to learn, canonically

What the Ministry expects Harry to teach them (and what will therefore be in their OWLs and NEWTs)

The purpose of the DADA class in general, and

How the rest of the classes in Hogwarts have been impacted by the yearly change in DADA professor

What do students need to learn?

The closest we can come to answering that first question is Harry’s experiences teaching Dumbledore’s Army. Unfortunately, we don’t see much of these lessons. What we do see tends to be combat-oriented — Harry tells the DA about a spell and then gives advice on their casting as they practice on each other. It’s all practical, no theory at all except for the books on the shelves in the Room of Requirement, and nothing on magical creatures (though this might be because he felt Lupin had already done a good job on that front).

Harry’s lessons to the DA were cut short, besides, just as they had reached the Patronus Charm — so we don’t know for sure what Harry would have gone on to teach them. I like to think that, if he was the professor, the answer would have just been — everything.

Everything he knows. Everything he’s used to defend himself.

He knows first hand that it’s not just about knowing the spells, that there’s a lot more to surviving than being a good duelist — he even says so outright when discussing the DA with Ron and Hermione. And I think that, as he continued to teach, his lessons would begin to reflect that.

The first thing that comes to mind — besides spells and combat — is physical activity. Learn how to dodge, get used to running, hone your reflexes, etc. DADA would be the PE of Hogwarts with Harry as professor. The second things that came to mind were wards and healing — things that are, admittedly, used far more creatively and often in fanfiction than in canon smh. Still, the canon use of them is there, and Harry relied on that knowledge during his camping trip from hell, so.

What’s on the OWLs and NEWTs?

Apart from just the things Harry would want to teach as part of DADA, there’s also whatever the Board of Governors expect him to teach — what will be on the OWLs and NEWTs.

Sometimes (most times? depending on your interpretation of Harry) this coincides with what Harry would teach anyway. However, I explain in this post why I think the Ministry would want to emphasize defense against magical creatures. I also imagine they would want the Legality section above taught at some point, though we know Harry found it horrifically boring in the fifth book.

The Review!!!! section in Year 5 is comprised mostly of whatever I deemed the minimum a student should know to not immediately die by the time they step out of Hogwarts + whatever the Ministry might want all students to know + the bare bones of defensive spells that one might use against a wizard.

All students take a DADA OWL because it is a required class for the first five years. At this point, students who are not interested in the subject and/or do not need a DADA OWL for their intended career will drop the subject. I tried to reflect this on the syllabus by making NEWT years more specialized — on the assumption that careers that require a DADA NEWT will also require specialization within the field.

How difficult is this class?

Harry would be a demanding teacher. I know a lot of people headcanon him as the fun teacher — and I do think a lot of his lessons would be fun, and he would try to make them fun — but I can easily imagine him getting annoyed when people don’t take his class seriously. The DA was voluntary, and everyone there wanted to learn and practice defensive spells; a lot of children in a time of peace would not see it that way. Many would drag their feet at the physical activity and complain about the hard work, the hard spells, and when are we ever going to use this anyway?

So I do think that, even when he isn’t actively trying to push his students, Harry’s DADA class would be hard. He sees himself as an average wizard — even though his teachers called him bright, even though people tell him he’s exceptionally good at defense — he thinks he’s nothing special, and he knows that if he can do it, you can too! So yes, he’d have high expectations and his class would be especially difficult if you’re not that into it.

Which is why some of the spells above are listed one year (or more!) earlier than the DADA class in canon presented them. Not that many, honestly. (The starkest difference is Homenum Revelio, which I listed as a Year 1 spell, but we only see Hermione use it canon in Deathly Hallows. But hey — canon spell difficulty isn’t mentioned; it could very easily be the case that Hermione simply hadn’t known the spell until then, or hadn’t thought to use it.)

We just don’t know very much about what makes a spell difficult. A recurring spell throughout this syllabus is the Patronus Charm — it’s listed under Spells to Learn in Year 3 and then continues being listed all the way through Year 7. That’s because it’s supposed to be an especially difficult spell (”beyond NEWT level”)... and Harry mastered it in his third year. So of course — if you’re following my interpretation of Harry — he would start teaching it in Year 3.

He might make allowances, given that apart from him, we only know of a few people who managed to cast it before their fifth year (Luna, Ginny, while in Dumbledore’s Army) and not while suffering the effects of a dementor, at that. So next to every reiteration of the Patronus Charm in the syllabus, I included what I think would be Harry’s minimum expectation of success.

DADA vs. Hogwarts

Why is the Knockback Jinx canonically taught in Charms class? This is complete speculation, but Flitwick (and maybe McGonagall) probably had to pick up the slack after a few years of the DADA professor position being cursed.

As the years went by and as Hogwarts expended all the competent teachers and scared away the rest, OWLs and NEWTs continued demanding the same results. Student performance on these tests must have steadily dropped, and I think spells that would have usually been covered by the DADA professor gradually shifted unto Charms class.

That might explain why Harry learned some offensive magic in Charms class instead of DADA — but the only reason I’m mentioning this right now is because I included a lot of charms in the Spells to Learn list that I’m quite sure were canonically covered in Charms class, but which I wanted Harry to cover earlier that Flitwick did. Oh well.

Concluding thoughts

This took way longer than I thought it would. Just... the sheer amount of time spent referencing the wiki, the Lexicon, the books... I checked the wiki’s specific references, too.

...But, hey, I had fun thinking about Harry Potter.

86 notes · View notes