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sopiao · 9 months

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HAI!! I LUV ALL OF UR WORK THEY GOT ME GIGGLIN AND SHIT 🤭🤭

can i request a young teen reader (like 15-16) being watched over and taken care of by their body guards, the 141. like. they’re sick and is part of a dangerous chain, they get hired to take care of you and just overall body guard you???

pls ignore this if this is too much or if you don’t feel like it! be safe!

EHYDHEHSHEHS TY TY TY!!!

this idea is actually so cute. i struggled trying to think for this 🤐

Tossing and turning in your hospital bed, you already read every book that was gifted to you and brought from your home. Already watched every show on the TV. Already made like a couple hundred paper cranes out of boredom. Hell, you’ve been here so long the flowers you got, when you were first admitted, has already wilted and died due to lack of sunlight. That’s how you felt

A soft knock on the door made you sit up immediately. You saw your doctor, your mom, and four strange men. Your mom never explained what she did, expect that you could never get involved in it, and never know what she did. All you knew is that it was dangerous, but she made lots of money from it so she could give you a comfortable life.

As always, she gave you a short and subtle explanation, as always. She introduced the men, but you took little to no interest in this. All you know was that you weren’t safe in a public hospital and had to stay somewhere more private and secluded.

Something like “Mommy got caught up with some people and you need to take a trip” You hated every time she baby explained something to you. You aren’t 5.

—

The car ride there was quite, Ghost having to hold his arm up the entire ride to keep your IV running. You already knew that you’d never be alone from that point on, always being monitored and with someone.

“We already prepared a room for you” Price explained, only earning a hum from you as a response. They didn’t find your silence and lack in response or communication rude or ignorant, just understood that some people like to talk and some don’t. Your room was right in the middle of the hallway, in between everyone else’s, assuming it was for your safety in case anyone found you.

Price let you open the door to see your reaction. The room was.. cozy. In a way. You can tell they tried. There were soft white fairy lights across the lining of the ceiling. It was a quilted comforter with many different patterns. Books laid out in the bed side table for you, ones you never read before. Soft rugs, and a huge and a plushy bean bag.

But what caught your attention the most was the overwhelming amount of stuffed animals that littered the bed. You wanted to laugh but only let out a little chuckle, the only other sound from you the entire time you were with them, aside from the occasional hum response.

They all watched cautiously as you slowly entered the room, looking around and inspecting each little trinket of the room they added, Ghost having to follow behind to keep your IV bag dripping.

“Is it okay for you?” Soap is the first to speak up, all watching how you just sit at the foot of the bed and just look around, noticing something new each second. Wow, they even got you the white princess canopy you wanted when you were like five. Even the skele-animals plushie you wanted six years ago. Most likely your mom told them about this. A for effort.

“Yeah, its… good” You softly nod, Soap and Gaz smile to each other.

“Told ya” you heard subtly from Gaz who stuck his tongue out at Ghost who just rolls his eyes and turn away, who starts to attach your IV bag to the metal pole. They’re hesitant to leave you by yourself, but you insist that you’ll just take a nap for a little bit.

—

A couple hours later, lunch, Price reminds Ghost to go in and ask you what you’d like for lunch. They can eat whenever they want, their more concerned for you. When he hears silence after knocking four separate times, not wanting to intrude on you. He just assumes that you’re still sleeping.

His heart drops to his stomach once he sees the bed empty, and you’re IV pole gone. He rushes into the house’s living room, alerting his teammates. First they do a scan of the house, maybe you wanted to use the bathroom, or check out the other rooms. When the rooms are empty they start to check out the outside, spreading out.

Price finds you in the backyard. Sighing as he relaxes and un-tense his body, slowly making his way towards you. You’re crouched in the ground, back facing him, with your IV pole standing beside you. His shadow looms over you, signaling you that there’s someone behind you, though you don’t say or do anything, just continuing watching the ants climb in and out of the small ant hill.

His shadow looks over you, signaling you that there’s someone behind you, but it doesn’t alarm you. You just continue staring how the ants follow in one singular line.

“Gave us a scare there, kid” Price grunts as he crouches down next to you, wondering what’s so interesting about them, earning the usual hum in response, the only time you’ve acknowledged his presence.

“What’re ya’ lookin’ at?” Price turns to look at you, hugging your knees and chin resting atop of them. He watches you use a twig to push a stray ant back in line.

“Y’know if you wanna go out, you should come and tell us, bring us along” He says in a tone that tries to convince you that they wanna spend time, but is really so you won’t be alone.

“Mhm”

—

Day 2. And you’re still stuck in this hospital gown. You try to look through the dresser and drawers for any clothes, or at least fresh underwear, or clean socks. But when you find the wooden drawers empty you escort yourself and the metal pole, you’re growing used to, to the living room where they’re all playing card games.

They don’t notice your presence yet, focusing on whether the other has the card they need or not. So, you just stand and stare at them, for a good 4 minutes until Gaz catches you in the corner of his eye. Jumping and dropping all his cards face up on the table.

They all laugh then turn once they realize that Gaz is staring at the hallway. Soap clears his throat and asks what you need while Price puts out his cigar to keep you from inhaling the fumes.

“I need clothes” Is all you said. The same expression plastered on their faces, just remembering that they forgot something.

“That’s what it was” Soap mutters.

“Told you we were missing something, idiot” Ghost scolds him, seems like a usual occurrence.

They end up having to drive to the nearest Goodwill to buy you some clothes. They knew that if your mother found out she’d be displeased, but you insisted that it’s where you wanted. You couldn’t leave and go around public in your hospital gown since it’ll raise suspicion.

Which caused you to have to borrow some of their clothes for the time being. Had to borrow Gaz’s pants since he’s the shortest from all of them, thought by only an inch, it was the closest size to you. It draped over you and covered your shoes. Soap offered his shirt which reached your thighs. Had a tear in the bottom.

Ghost decided to stay and stick with you while you picked up clothes, watching intently in what you picked out and what you looked at, holding up your IV, but not too high to make it that noticeable. Noting what you took interest in, processing your style.

“Didn’t know these still existed” Price came up to the two of you with Soap behind him, holding up a cassette player in his hand. Soap had an old digital camera, looking through the photos.

“You should get it, Cap’” Soap suggests, getting bored with the camera. You’re still looking through clothes, but still listening to them talk.

“What the hell would I even do with this?” He chuckles, inspecting the inside and each button to see if it’s functional— and not laced with crack.

“Mm-mm Just to have it?” Soap shrugs, taking the clothes out from your arm to hold for you, and to look at.

“That’s stupid”.

“They have cassettes at the front” You speak up, making them all look at you, since you never speak unless absolutely needed. They’re happy that you’re slowly getting comfortable to speak but don’t want to say anything to jinx it. Price just makes his way towards the front to look for them, you can tell by the little rushed way he walks that he’s enjoying himself.

You find a Dio shirt in the racks, their band dates and locations on the back, like something you’d by from a concert.

“Do people still listen to them?” Ghost whispers, mostly to himself, you can tell his interested. Never would’ve thought that he’d be into that band. You add it into your stash, laying it on your arm. When you get back to the house you end up giving it to him since ‘It doesn’t fit. Too big’ by what you said.

—

Gaz couldn’t sleep at all, it was way too hot. He walked out of his room, using the bottom of his shirt to wipe his face. He entered the kitchen to grab a glass of water but almost screams when he sees you by the counter, sitting on the edge with a sandwich in your hand.

“If you were hungry you should’ve woken one of us up” He sighed, hand on his chest to calm himself down, worried when he saw the knife next to you covered in nutella.

“No. Too much work. Didn’t wanna bother” You shook your head, already half way through your sandwich. He chuckled, looking through the fridge for the water pitcher.

“What did ya’ make?” Gaz asked, leaning against the counter next to you, taking a long gulp from his glass.

“Nutella and Cheerio’s” You take another big bite from your sandwich. He cringes at how sweet it must be but laughs at how often he’s tried it late at night too.

You two sit together in silence, occasional crunch from you eating your sandwich and a watery sip from Gaz. After you finish he asks if your full, shaking your head he offers to make you something. Looking up at him then nodding while muttering a thanks.

He makes you go sit in the living room and watch TV while he prepares something. There wasn’t much in the house but he made do with what he had in the house. After an episode and a half of The Amazing World of Gumball he came to the couch with two BLT sandwiches and two cans of soda.

“Didn’t even know we had bacon” You mutter to yourself as Gaz already starts eating, a muffled response you couldn’t really make out. You both just sit in silence once again, less awkward and more comfortable this time, as you both ate the food he prepped.

It was nice. Just eating sandwiches while watching cartoons at 2:14 in the morning.

—

You felt weak today, more than usual. Deciding to take a quick 20 minute nap, you wake up to loud talking, occasionally arguing accompanied by laughing, which made you a little irritated but you felt more energized.

Taking your IV pole with you, at this point you considered it a friend that followed you, you make your way to the living room, they’re all circled around the coffee table, either on the couch or on the floor.

You take a minute to watch before speaking up. Making them all jump when they notice your presence.

“What’re you doing?” You take a couple steps forward to look over their shoulders and see a Monopoly board and Monopoly money spread across the table.

“Wanna play?” Soap cocks his head to the side, scooting over to make room for you.

“I’ll watch” You take the empty spot next to him as they begin playing, less profanity and vulgar language this time, but still the same energy. Slowly you started to grow used to them. Laughed at how Gaz made Ghost pay up every time he hit his property, how Soap would take at least a minute to calculate his money for a deal, how Soap always got the short end of the straw, how they’d always fuck him over.

After a round they played again, but this time you were the banker. Handing out loans and taxes while you sipped on your juice box.

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stellar-constellations · 9 months

Text

An Alliance (Part 8)

Fem! Spy! (Y/N) x Yuri Briar

Parts: One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, current part, nine, ten (to be continued when Spy x Family has more Yuri content!)

(Y/N) is given her own backstory that is important for the story!

The setting for this story is based off West and East Germany's (because Spy x Family is heavily based off Germany in the 1940-1950) laws (or at least replicated to the best of my abilities since it's unknown what time period Spy x Family is exactly in, we'll go with 1950 for the sake of this story).

Historically-accurate women misogyny and mistreatment! Only small comments and historically-accurate laws (replicated to the best of my ability).

The story, plot, and settings might not match up to the Spy x Family manga as it's not completed and the manga is still being crafted.

This series contains spoilers for the manga and anime!

Even more weeks passed as Yuri and I began to know each other more and more. Eventually, we started to figure out each other's likes and interests.

I used to hate Yuri for many things, like how he's extremely strict with work, a morning-person, extremely family-oriented (and I swear he has some weird thing with sisters. Would he date a girl if she was an older sister? 'Cause I am). I also hated him cause he's so bossy and stuck-up, not allowing me to even walk outside for a breath of air without him walking beside me.

Meanwhile, he hated me for a lot of reasons too. Like how I was seen as playful and tired a lot, seeming to have no clear goal of what I want in life. He also didn't like me because I'm carefree and love to tease him.

It's not that good of a match when we're both stubborn and opinionated, stuck in the same apartment for hours on end, not even having a break from work, but we eventually decided to put aside our differences.

Yuri allowed me to sleep in on our days off, and in return I'd lay back on my teasing. Yuri and I agreed on the groceries and dinners we made, deciding to work together to make dinner. I learned that Yuri likes his eggs sunny side up, and he learned I like mine (egg choice). I showed him how to make my family recipes, and Yuri showed me how to make recipes he's stumbled across and adapted (he admitted he doesn't like cooking Yor's dishes, but he eats what she makes anyways because he admires her).

Yuri doesn't care for horror movies as he never gets scared, but he's scared of porcelain dolls (just as I am) so we get scared when watching "The Invisible Man" (even though Yuri swears up and down he isn't scared, he agrees to hold me since I forced him to otherwise I'd have nightmares and talk about it in my sleep, effectively scaring him from my sleep-talk of demons and dolls).

We learned how to co-exist and work together, helping with interrogations and asking for each other's second-opinions. I tried to listen to bugged audios and such, but I end up falling asleep each time as I have to try and wait for something incriminating, so Yuri takes over that part.

Our co-workers are extremely convinced that we're a couple, and it really doesn't seem that off. It feels like as more and more time passes, we get used to having to call each other "wife" and "husband".

We took the bus since the traffic was way too crowded on the road today, that, and me and Yuri felt exhausted after working long hours for so long. We eventually fell asleep on the bus, leaning onto a each as the train peacefully cradled us.

"Yuri? (Y/N)?"

Yuri shot awake, causing me to way up from his harsh movement.

"Whu? Yor?" Yuri questioned.

"You two don't usually ride this train." Yor spoke.

"Oh, uh, just on our way back from a little work trip." Yuri spoke.

I nodded, agreeing before eventually dosing off on Yuri's shoulder, their conversation being alienated in my ears.

Yuri soon woke me up. I mumbled out a "bye" once I realized Yor was still onboard. Yuri grabbed my hand as he led me out.

"What did you and Yor talk about while I was asleep?" I muttered, keeping my eyes low on the ground.

It was too bright outside for me now, and I'm really too tired to keep walking yet I went.

"Nothing really, just small talk." Yuri hummed, he turned to look at me. "Are you okay? You're dragging your feet." Yuri pointed out.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm just tired. I don't like having to do the interrogations so much. I'm still mad that guy tried punching me when I caught him lying." I sighed.

"Yeah. That was a quick punch..." Yuri spoke, recalling the memories.

I'm really glad Yuri was there to catch that punch and hold him down, since I was sitting down, there really wasn't enough time for me to move away from it.

"Yuri. Can you carry me?" I questioned.

"No." He immediately responded.

"Why?" I sighed, slightly whining.

"You're acting like a child." Yuri sighed.

"But I'm tired." I groaned, then paused, thinking. "You should carry me. It'll make us seem more like a couple to others."

"You're really trying to use that against me?" Yuri deadpanned.

"...Please?" I questioned, causing him to sigh.

"Whatever, hurry up and get on." Yuri groaned, rolling his eyes as he crouched down.

"Thank you, love~" I singed, not much energy into it.

"Whatever." He huffed, grabbed my thighs and placing his arms under them to get a firm grip.

"You're the best~" I praised, resting my head on his shoulder and sighing happily.

"I know I am." He snarked, hiding his face to hide his painfully obvious smile.

I decided not to fight back on it, resting my eyes again.

Mission after mission, I swear I'm going to go insane. I thought.

We were chasing after a suspect who ran, my legs were tired as I mentally cussed out the man we're chasing. I never ran as much in WISE as I do here! Usually I'd get escorted to my missions or at least have a motorcycle (well, at least in WISE I would)!

"The suspect fled to the back alley! Go around and cut him off, you two!" the Lieutenant ordered.

"Yes, sir!" Yuri responded.

I followed Yuri, not bothering to responded back to the Lieutenant in case I accidentally project my unprofessional thoughts to my higher-up. We chased in an empty alley, desperate to cut him off, but Yuri suddenly fell. He didn't trip, no, he just fell, plopped down face first into the ground.

"Yuri? Are you okay?!" I questioned, immediately stopping and checking Yuri's pulse to make sure it wasn't heart failure or a stroke.

"Yuri, what happened? Did he get the drop on you?!" the Lieutenant questioned, running to us.

"He just suddenly collapsed!" I spoke.

"Nngh... Captain... I think I..." Yuri paused, "caught a cold..."

"So suddenly?!" the Lieutenant exclaimed.

"No wonder you were sneezing and coughing today when you woke up. Sheesh, Yuri, if you felt bad, you could've called in sick." I sighed, putting his arm around my shoulder and picking him up with the help of the Lieutenant.

"Evil never waits..." Yuri responded.

I signed me and Yuri out early, the Lieutenant going to the Director to tell what happened and to excuse our absences. I took Yuri's car keys and drove us back to our apartment, resting him on the couch.

"You know, you really worried me, stupid. I thought you inhaled some poisonous gas or went into cardiac arrest. Tell me when you're feeling unwell, jerk..." I muttered, ignoring the tears swelling up in my eyes.

I thought I was gonna lose you, just like everyone else...

"Sorry..." Yuri mumbled.

"Don't worry, love. Just don't scare me like that again..." I sighed.

"Whenever I remember that... my sister's away... my immune system... breaks down." Yuri explained.

Woah. Sounds serious... seriously stupid. I thought.

"Right, business trip on a cruise." I commented. "I'll go get you some medicine at the pharmacy." I spoke.

"W-wait, you can't go alone!" Yuri spoke.

"I'll be fine, don't worry." I reassured.

"No... It's in the... contract... for me to not... leave you alone... in case you... leave..." Yuri huffed.

"Jerk!" I scoffed. "I wanted to make sure you heal up and you believe I'll abandon you while you're vulnerable! Besides, I've already left your sight before and I returned, did I not?!"

"Sorry..." Yuri sighed. "If you go... could you get some herbal tea? The kind with the bear on it..." He huffed.

"...Whatever..." I huffed, rolling my eyes.

I’ll get him it anyways since he’s sick. I thought.

I hurried to the pharmacy, buying the box and noticing the box’s bear it's the same herbal tea that taste like absolute shit.

Well, maybe he loses his tastes when he’s sick? So he doesn’t realize it’s bad? Maybe he likes the dirt-like texture. I thought, walking out of the pharmacy with the box and medication in hand.

I walked back into the apartment, unlocking the door with the key I borrowed (stole) from Yuri’s pocket. I walked back to the bedroom and noticed Yuri sleeping, moving around a lot in his sleep.

I decided I’d make the tea for him, getting a kettle of hot water brewing. I waited for the tea to boil, then placed a packet in a mug, pouring the water into it.

I’m not a fan of Japanese tea, I prefer American tea better, but maybe my sense of taste changed? I thought, taking a drink of the tea from the mug.

“BLEGH!” I immediately spit it in the sink, coughing profusely as the taste lingered in my mouth. “Hell no!” I exclaimed.

How could he willing choose something like that?!

I grumbled, muttering complaints and insults of the cartoon bear on the box as I carried Yuri’s mug of disgusting tea and a box of medicine for his cold.

I walked in, setting the stuff down on the drawer and looked at Yuri. He was awake, shooting up from his sleep rather quickly.

“Nightmare?” I questioned.

“No. Just some past memories.” He sighed, his voice hoarse from his cold.

“Ah.” I hummed. “I got you the tea you wanted, though it tastes like shit.”

“Thanks. It’s the one that works the best. And also the one that tastes most like what Yor used to make.” Yuri spoke, sipping his tea.

He immediately threw up, but seemed re-energized.

“Gross! Yuri!” I wailed.

“Blarf! Now let’s go catch us some criminals! I’m back to 100 percent! We gotta purify the world before my sister returns!” Yuri shouted.

“Go back to bed, stupid!” I screamed. . .

More weeks passed as me and Yuri learned to fall into the husband and wife role perfectly. We can go anywhere and be seen as a couple—almost, which will be explained soon enough. But I realized a new problem arose…

It’s all fake.

All the hugs, all the handholding, all the “see you soon”s, all the kisses, we had to fake it all. We had to fake every compliment, every gift, everything we did outside, was fake. But all the insults, all the teasing, all the “I hate you’s", all the nagging, all of that was real.

And the problem was, I’ve begun to enjoy Yuri’s company too much.

I’ve begun to enjoy waking up next to him and complaining about not wanting to get up. I’ve begun to enjoy walking to the nearest cafe for breakfast or just skipping and deciding to eat a big lunch later. I’ve begun to enjoy our handholding sessions and hugs and kisses to prove that we’re a "couple". I’ve begun to enjoy being able to see Yuri everyday; but he doesn’t.

He doesn’t look forward to see me in the morning. He doesn’t look forward to our breakfasts, lunches, dinners, or desserts. He especially doesn’t enjoy the fake affection we had to broadcast to others.

I never expected to start wanting to fall in love, to start entertaining the idea of what life would be like with kids, to start a new chapter. I never wanted to leave someone with the fact that I was a bad-doer and that I’ll be at fault for making them cry—if they could even still think of me as their lover after knowing all I’ve done. All I've killed and sacrificed to be what I am today.

I don’t like to hold regrets, but I am just as human as the next, even if Yuri doesn’t believe it since I was once a Westalis citizen.

I regret that I killed people with no thought. That I’ve broken families in just a second, shattered them so they could never be mended back together. I regret stealing information, turning my back on people, and never once listening to my heart and feelings.

That’s for the best. I thought to myself. If I allow myself to get attached, then I’ll surely never be able to leave. I told myself.

But do I really want to leave him? I thought. I'm going to have to. I've read the Handler's message:

Hello, Agent Vixen. To ensure your alliance with WISE, we need you to gather information on what they know about WISE, who the members are, what our missions are; I want information such as this and more reported to us as soon as you can—without letting any of them know you're still working with us. We also need you to figure out what are their affiliations with the National Unity Party. What do they discuss about? What is said about Westalis? Anything and everything involving the war, our agents, Westalis, and Ostania, we need you to report without being found out. Don't worry about covering for WISE agents, if they were caught; they're no longer a WISE agent in our books. And if you're discovered, we will do our best to recruit you back to us as long as you're proven to be reliable and trustworthy for a second chance.

The Handler.

I'm a failure of a person. I can't even choose a side to back up; I'm a terrible wife too. I sighed, watching as a girl in the coffee line chatted with Yuri. And I’m not jealous. I thought, staring at them socialize.

Why would I be jealous? It’s all fake. I shouldn’t care if Yuri decides to leave with a girl. I shouldn’t care if I get kicked out and a new girl moves in. I shouldn’t care if the contract gets breached and I die (it really already has). I shouldn’t care at all, it’s Yuri’s life.

But what if he starts loving someone? I don’t think I could watch the stages of him slowly falling head over heels in love with someone. If that happens, I’ll be gone. I'll be forced to go back to Westalis; if WISE even deem me worthy enough to be kept alive, that is (but I bet the SSS would kill me before then).

But it’s not what I want, it’s what Yuri wants. I’ve been nothing but a nuisance ever since I was caught. I really started slacking, and I've been doing even worse now that I'm with Yuri; I'm losing my spark.

I stood up from the seat, deciding I was tired of waiting (and not because Yuri was talking with a girl) and walked up to them.

“Hey! You remember my order, right?” I questioned Yuri, budding into the conversation.

I don’t care if I’m being rude, it’s about time I start being selfish with my own feelings (haven't I been?)

“(Favorite coffee/drink), right?” Yuri questioned, looking down.

“Yep.” I smiled.

“Is this your girlfriend?” the girl questioned, smiling.

"Wife, actually." Yuri confirmed, grabbing my hand and holding it.

A wave of shock hit me. I was expecting Yuri to get mad at me budding in, potentially ruining his chances with a hot girl. I was expecting him to be bummed out, mad, shocked, sad, anything but supportive and proud.

I felt my heart race as my face heated up.

Wow. Wasn't what I was expecting. I thought.

"Really?" the girl spoke, shocked. "I didn't see a ring, sorry."

Me and Yuri looked down at our hands at the same time, noticing our fingers.

Ah, we still don't have rings, actually. I thought.

"We're engaged and saving up for rings." Yuri explained quickly.

"I see..." the girl went quiet. "Sorry for disturbing."

Yeah... I thought. Don't be a home-wrecker.

I decided to stay with Yuri in case she decides to change her mind about being a home-wrecker. The girl left and I sighed, feeling relieved, like I overcame a serious obstacle. Yuri is pretty attractive, but I've watched as girls quickly leave once he starts his obsessive rants about his sister.

Maybe I was a little jealous. I thought to myself. I think I got a little insecure… I’ll keep that in mind so it doesn’t happen again.

If Yuri noticed it, he decided not to question it. We ordered our drinks, waiting before receiving it. We walked into Yuri’s car, deciding today we’d drive instead of taking the bus. Yuri drives as I thought to myself intensely.

“Yuri.” I spoke up.

“Hm?” he acknowledged.

“Let’s get wedding rings.” I boldly spoke.

Yuri swerved the car, almost hitting another car before parking to the right side of the road.

“The hell’s your problem?!” I screamed, scared as I held my chest.

Did I just lose my heart? Is it gone? Am I dead?

“My problem?! What’s your problem?!” Yuri declared. “You don’t just go randomly asking that! Do you even know how much money rings cost?! We’re not married married!”

“Of course I know. We can go to a pawnshop and get them!” I hissed. “But it’s been pointed out that we don’t have rings! Usually when people engage, they at least have a engagement ring before a wedding ring! It’ll make our act look more believable.”

“People already believe us! Who do we need to coax?” Yuri questioned.

“Our coworkers! We work with detectives, Yuri, they’re bound to get suspicious about us when there’s no ring and we’re regularly visiting the Director.” I pointed out.

“Is this because of that girl?” Yuri questioned suddenly.

“No!” I immediately declared, determined to shut down that idea. “I’m just thinking about our contract!”

“Ugh… (Y/N)…” Yuri sighed, hitting his head against the steering wheel.

"My life is on the line, you know?! It all relies on this relationship!" I exclaimed.

The car horn honked as he did, but we both chose to ignore that as he raised his head.

“I don’t plan on falling in love or whatever you’re thinking of in that pretty little head of yours.” He sighed, flicking my forehead.

“Hey!” I yelped, offended that he flicked my forehead and called me stupid indirectly.

“You don’t have to worry. I never planned on having a wife or anything.” Yuri spoke.

“Why? Are you gay?” I immediately spoke.

“NO!” Yuri screamed, angry. “I just never saw the point of it. I decided to dedicate my life to helping Yor.”

Pathetic. I immediately thought.

“But what if you do fall in love?” I questioned. “What are you gonna do then?”

“I won’t.” Yuri sighed.

“But what if you do?” I questioned, determined for an answer.

“I’ll ignore them.” He groaned, hitting his head on the steering wheel once more.

“But what about the rings and our contract?” I questioned.

“What about them?” Yuri questioned.

“My life is literally held together by a paper packet and our relationship.” I spoke.

“And?” Yuri muttered.

“You’re not gonna care if I die...?” I questioned, tears welling up in my eyes.

“N-no! Of course I’d care. I’d—would you stop crying already?!” Yuri spoke, freaking out as tears started streaming down my face.

“I can’t help it!” I cried.

“No! Help it! Help it, damn it!” Yuri groaned.

“I just said I can’t!” I huffed.

“I didn’t mean it! I don’t want you to die, geez!” he sighed.

“Prove it…” I muttered.

“How am I gonna do that? I’m not going to kiss you.” He spoke bluntly.

“That wasn’t on the table!” I huffed, ignoring my offended and dejected feelings. “And to prove it…” I muttered, raising my left hand and holding it in the air as I pointed to my ring finger with the help of my other hand.

“I’ll think about it.” Yuri sighed almost rolling his eyes at me. “Are you happy now?”

“Not yet.” I spoke, causing Yuri to groan. “Would you cheat in our marriage?”

“Have you no trust in me?!” Yuri cried out.

“Since you didn’t mind if I died or not, yeah!” I immediately retorted.

“I said I would mind!” Yuri clarified quick. “And besides. If I actually did did get married, which would never happen, but hypothetically, I wouldn’t. That’s treason to the relationship, and I don’t support treason. Just think back to our interrogation with Jim Hayward.”

I don’t think it’d be that serious, but good job on being a decent person, Yuri. I thought.

“Why am I answering these questions and you’re not giving any information back?! This is trickery!” Yuri shouted, angry as he hit the gas pedal and drove back into the road, speeding a little off the appropriate speed limit to make it to work on time.

"You willing answered my questioned; I used no form of deception." I spoke, raising my hand up like I was testifying in court to prove innocence.

"Yeah right..." he grumbled. "What are you going to do when you fall in love?" he questioned. "And don't say you won't; I already used that."

"Hm." I hummed, thinking. "I'd wait and see if they recuperate. If they don't, I keep the feelings to myself, if they do, I won't do anything either. I have a marriage license with you, and I refuse to be a cheater, even in a fake relationship."

"Okay. And what about actual marriage?" Yuri questioned.

"I want to have a husband and kids one day, but I'm not going to settle for just anyone. They'll be put through a test to make sure they're the one." I stated.

"Pfft." Yuri scoffed, smiling. "What's this? Are you suddenly Cinderella waiting for Prince Charming?" Yuri joked.

"Ugh." I scoffed back. "As if! I meant that they need to follow my dad's expectations of my husband, with a few exceptions from me, of course. Plus, Cinderella sought out the Prince first, I'd be offended if the guy I danced with didn't recognize my face!"

"What's your dad's exceptions? And yours?" Yuri spoke. "Some buff guy who can lift 200 pounds?"

"Why? You been rejected for guys like that?" I questioned.

"I told you, I've never fallen in love and never will..." Yuri grumbled.

"My expectation of a lover is someone whose stable with a good sense of morals. I could care less about looks or the sex-drive, but I'd want a partner whose honest, loyal, responsible, and no one-sided expectations; like they can go out with friends but I can't, you know?" I spoke.

"I'm genuinely surprised; that's achievable." Yuri commented.

"Oh? Are you going to be a suitor for this bachelorette?" I joked.

"Like there's others." Yuri scoffed.

"Oi!" I exclaimed. "Of course there's others! I'm not as unlikable as you."

"Whatever floats your love boat." Yuri sighed.

"Your boat is Titanic." I retorted.

Titanic because it's a sunken ship...

Yuri grumbled under his breath, before speaking up.

“I couldn’t ever see you being a real wife.” Yuri claimed.

“Why?” I questioned, side-eyeing him.

“Cause you don’t act very sophisticated, I’d be surprised if you even find a guy interested in you.” Yuri stated as if it was a fact.

“Their loss; they don’t know what they’re missing.” I spoke.

“What? Like constant nagging about nothing and everything? Constant clumsily and running into still doors and still wall? Constant clinging onto them as you drag your feet about not wanting to get out of bed, or to work, or to the store, or to the doctors? Constant crying? Constant—“

“Say one more thing and I’ll turn that steering wheel so fast off that bridge we’re about to cross.” I spoke, pointing at the bridge we’re stalking towards.

"...Constant baking at three A.M.?" he shot me a dirty glare.

"You can't talk bad about my brownies! I love them and I know you love them too!" I shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

I can deal with a lot of things, but disrespecting my brownies is a no no.

"As if." He spoke, rolling his eyes.

"Why do you wake up whenever I cook them, then eat them 0.2 seconds after they get out of the oven?" I spoke, crossing my arms. "I barely get two pieces!"

"I wake up because I don't feel you in bed, so I think you escaped." Yuri stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Why do you eat the brownies then?" I questioned.

"...Because they are in my line of sight and we do not waste food in our house." He stated.

"Or, you just love me and my cooking." I smiled.

Yuri jumped up, startled as his eyes blew wide and he looked at me with a red face.

"AS IF!" he shouted.

"Woah! Such a strong reaction! Maybe you do love me!" I laughed as he glared at me.

"Did you not catch the 'I’d be surprised if you even find a guy interested in you' earlier?" he questioned, his face showing he was unamused.

"I think I'm very pretty and interesting." I smirked, looking into the car's rear mirror for a second before focusing my attention back to Yuri. "Besides, people in love always like to give each other a hard time. Just ask Donnie and his wife." I smirked.

"...You're a brat." He muttered.

"Aw! You're the light of my day and stars of the night. You're my honey bunch sugar' plum gum drop pumpkin wumpkin lemon sundae swirl little love bug-" I gushed, smirking before he cut me off.

"STOP THAT!" he screamed, his face red.

"Sorry..." I muttered, acting sad before smiling brightly again. "My little cherry pie dandelion angel dove swan cupid baby cutie sweetie blackberry muffin lemon glaze chocolate-"

I went on until Yuri blasted the music on the radio until I shut up.

We made it to work, stepping out of the car and noticing our vans being loaded up with equipment.

Must be a big raid. I thought to myself as we walked into the building.

“Ah, Lieutenant, Mrs. Lieutenant.” A lieutenant greeted us as we walked down the hallway. “I heard your niece’s bus is being held hostage right now, are you aware?”

“Niece?” I questioned before my eyes widened. “You mean my niece?!” I exclaimed.

Little pink girl, Anya! I liked her! The first time I met her, I didn’t get to know her well. But the second time I saw her, I kept thinking of what she likes since me and Yuri had to watch her. She answered all my questions without me evening having to ask (she has perfect intuition! I like her!) and she even called me pretty and that’s why she kept staring at me!

“Chihuahua girl’s bus got hijacked?” Yuri questioned, shocked. “Let’s get to the scene!” Yuri exclaimed, grabbing my hand and dragging me down the hallway.

We ran down the hallways, finding the Lieutenant followed by a small squad with him.

"Captain! We heard Chihuahua Girl's bus got hijacked!" Yuri shouted as we both ran up to the scarred-face lieutenant.

"Hey, who told them that? And Chihuahua girl...?" he questioned. "You know I can't have you showing your face at the crime scene. Your sister's kid might recognize you both. And don't even think of telling city hall."

"Urk... Understood, sir." Yuri spoke, deep in thought.

"Like hell!" I shouted boisterously. "You have two options, but both of them will end up with me and Yuri ending up at that scene! Either you let us go with, or I'm hijacking one of those damn vans and driving there myself."

"You don't even have any information on the assignment. And you're too low of a level to participate." The Lieutenant informed.

"I have my ways. Watch me." I glared, then swiftly grabbed the paper packet out of one of the lieutenant's hand in the squad.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, reaching for it.

I took a step back and read the short packet. Not much information, two Eden Academy buses hijacked by the Red Circus, no straight motive on why they did so.

The Red Circus? I thought, shuddering. They used to be a peaceful student movement protest group, but their good ways turned sour once their movement for peace and equality for the weakest members of society. The state turned violent to them, causing the Red Circus to resort to an extreme methods, seeking revenge and justice after many of the students died.

I've done gigs to spy on the Red Circus to distribute peace in the country, as well as having to spoil their plans because they affected Westalis' and almost inflicted some serious protocols Ostania would've taken. Because of my interference, they have a target on me and other spies. If there's one thing I know, they're not friendly people.

Please be safe, Anya. I thought to myself, mentally panicking every second we're stuck here.

"Red Circus, two Eden Academy buses hijacked, motivations unknown." I spoke, dropping the papers down onto the desk. "Now that we know about the situation, we can go. We don't have to be right there, but we should be in a good distance for back up. You'd worry about your daughter and wife too, would you not?" I questioned, crossing my arms.

The Lieutenant sighed, not seeing to have much battle spirit in himself.

"Fine. But hurry to the vans otherwise you'll chase dust." He commanded, exiting the office.

"Yes, sir!" me and Yuri both saluted.

"Sometimes, your stubbornness is a blessing, but other times, it's a curse." Yuri sighed, smiling.

We ran out into the van, hopping in and taking off instantly as we closed the door.

"We'll go to the bus where your niece isn't present, that way we won't risk any exposure." Lieutenant spoke.

I resisted the urge to scream and kick the seats.

BUT IS ANYA SAFE?!

"Alright." Yuri acknowledged, nodding.

We made quick haste to the scene, scoping out the surroundings to make sure none of the members were outside.

"Here, take these earpieces so we can communicate." Lieutenant spoke. "Mrs. Lieutenant, you go with your husband to infiltrate. Take these." He handed both me and Yuri gas masks along with the ear pieces.

Me and Yuri nodded, moving into one of the entrances into the base.

"Hey." Yuri spoke, grabbing my arm. "You're not infiltrating. I'm not having you go into danger."

"What? Why?" I questioned.

"We can't risk it. Yor would get suspicious if you're hurt." Yuri spoke.

"She'll get even more suspicious if you're hurt. I can serve as backup to watch your back." I spoke.

"No. You can be backup from afar, but you're not going into battle." Yuri spoke sternly.

I glared at him, before huffing. "Fine. Whatever. But if you get hurt, then I told you so."

"Thanks." He smiled, placing the earpiece into his ear.

"Be safe, love." I spoke, leaning up and kissing his cheek before running away, to the side of the building and up one of the ladders.

I climbed up the ladder, listening to the conversation in my ear as I placed my gas mask on my face, just in case.

"I see six targets. They're total amateurs. They have to know the other bus is surrounded, but they're not being cautious at all." A man spoke into the earpiece. "Wait till all six are outside the bus. That's our opening. The guy with the beard seems to be their leader. Deal with the others."

I made it to the top, putting up the gas mask to wear and grabbed the gun from my belt.

If they have the audacity to even try something to those kids, I'll aim for the head instead of their legs... I thought, propping myself on the pillar cliff.

I took a quick look around, seeing as I'm probably the only sniper here. It wasn't the captain's orders, but honestly I could care less about what that man tells me. These are Yuri's orders, and as his coworker and "wife", I have to fulfill them.

"Do not give anyone a chance to radio out anything." The lookout ordered.

"Berta team, ready." One informed.

"Cäsar team, ready." Another informed.

"All teams ready. Prepare the tear gas." The captain commanded. "Execute!"

Two cans rolled into the way, causing the men to freak out.

"The cops?!" one shouted, confused.

"Koff! Retreat to the bus! Use the kids as-" I heard a man shout, but I didn't allow the man to finish his sentence as I locked my gun onto him, shooting straight into his head.

"Resistance confirmed." I spoke.

"Who the hell just did that?" the captain questioned.

"Me. I figured you needed backup." I smirked, following the battle with my gunsight.

"You didn't follow orders." He grumbled.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, instead opting watching the scene play out.

"A 'thank you' would've been appreciated." I spoke sarcastically.

"Aw! Damn it!" the supposed leader shouted.

He ran to the bus and gripped on the door handle. I was about to shoot before remembering how it could harm the kids if I miss my shot, and I redirected my gun.

One of the SSS agents quickly grabbed his arm and punched the leader in the face.

"A man your age, hiding behind a bunch of kids..." he spat.

Gunfire went off that wasn't mine, and the agent got shot in the shoulder by the leader.

"Ngh, yeah..." the lieutenant huffed. "Real mature!" he shouted, kicking him hard on the stomach.

The leader fell down and I watched a different agent fighting. I redirected my attention back to the leader and shot his leg, keeping him down as he tried to get back inside the bus.

Stay down, stubborn bitch... I thought.

I eyed the agent who got shot in their shoulder, making sure no remaining members of the Red Circus tried to harm them or see him pass out.

"Safety of the hostages confirmed. Berta team, do an area sweep as a precaution. We have one wounded." The captain spoke.

I climbed down from the ladder just in time to see Team Cäsar walking out, dragging the wounded one out of the building and taking off the mask. The agent shot turned out to be Yuri.

"Yuri!" I exclaimed, running over to him.

"He should be fine." One of them said.

"Fucking move!" I ordered, roughly slamming my shoulder on his and effectively pushing him out of the way.

"Ow! She's rude..." he muttered, rubbing his sore shoulder.

I observed Yuri's shoulder carefully as he groaned in pain.

"No major arteries damaged. Only one bullet. It didn't go out the other way, so the bullet is still lodged into his shoulder. Is there a first aid with forceps inside of any of the vans?" I questioned, doing my best to stay calm.

In actuality, I was freaking out. My hands were shaking along with my bottom lip as I took a deep breath, doing my best to stop myself from showing fear. If the patient (Yuri) notices I'm scared, he might get scared too, it'll speed up the pulse and the blood will pour out quicker.

Get a grip, it's not the first time you've seen someone shot. I thought to myself, hiding the vision of Rancher, or Hujo, or Net in my mind.

I'm not alone. I don't have a huge gun. I'm fine. Help is here. He'll be fine. I thought, my ears starting to ring from my blood quickening.

"No. We don't have forceps, but there's bandages." They spoke.

"We can get the bullet with this pocket knife?" another one questioned.

I shot them a look. "Are. You. Fucking. Stupid?" I spat. "Digging around in his wound will only cause even more damage. The bullet has done enough damage as it is, it's not harmful anymore. Just get the fucking first aid and bring it here."

"S-sorry, ma'am..." he stuttered, looking down. "I-I'll get that first aid, ma'am!"

"How you feeling, Yuri? You see any white or black lights? You feel overheated or too cold?" I questioned, looking down at his face.

"I'm dying!" he shouted.

"No, you're not!" I hissed, my tone harsher than I wanted it to.

Don't say stuff like that. I'm not going to lose another person like this.

"Here, ma'am!" the soldier came back.

I ripped open the first-aid, grabbing the bandages, dressing, and wipes. I cleaned off most of the blood I could manage with disposable wipes, and gently plugged the wound with foam dressing.

"YOWCH! IT HUUUUUURTS!" he screamed.

Where was that pain resistance while fighting earlier? I thought.

"Calm down, love. I'm trying my best, so stop moving." I spoke softly, hoping he'd copy my volume.

"Um, ma'am. I apologize for being clueless, but aren't you supposed to remove the bullet? I'm sure we could find a way without hurting him. Wouldn't keeping the bullet in get infected?" the soldier from earlier spoke.

"INFECTED?!" Yuri shouted. "Damn my luck! Why must I suffer like this for chihuahua girl, of all people?!" he screamed.

I rolled my eyes, quickly leaning down and kissing his lips.

"Shut it, Yuri!" I scolded. "You'll increase blood flow!"

He went quiet, dazed as he stared at me plugging the wound.

"As for your question. It's fine, it wouldn't get infected unless dirt or dust got into the wound, which is why I'm covering it so no debris gets in and infects it, along with stopping blood flow too. The bullet is sterile, meaning it's no threat to being infected since the gun's blast heated the bullet hot enough to where it flies in the air at the target, the heat cures the metal, therefore the metal won't be a threat. Plus, to be extra safe, the bullet is plugging the wound from bleeding out excessively, and it didn't go completely through his body, so that's good (for the most part)." I explained.

"Wow. You're smart, ma'am." The soldier gushed.

"I didn't even know that... damn..." the other soldier spoke, looking down depressingly.

Well, no shit. You aren't a part of the medical squad, and you don't seem to have been apart of the military. I thought.

I noticed the two medical personnel that are supposed to be taking care of Yuri instead watching from the sidelines away from the two rookie second-lieutenants and us. They must believe I'm doing the job good enough to where they don't need to step in.

"Hey! That's my wife so watch what you're saying!" Yuri declared, snapping out of his hypnosis.

I wrapped his wound with triangle bandage, (which is also good for filtering water, I learned when I was in the military!)

"There, done." I spoke as tears welled up in his eyes.

"It still hurts!" he complained, quieter then before.

"Want a kiss to make it better?" I teased, rolling my eyes.

He immediately directed his attention to the side, going quiet.

"Up," I commanded. "Let's get you to a private hospital." I commented. "And you two." I spoke, turning my head to the two men who watched the procedure.

"Y-yes, ma'am!" they both saluted, a little scared.

What the hell are they scared for? I thought, confused.

"Grab hydrogen peroxide and scrub the blood off the floors in there, really good. It'll lose all of his DNA in the scene, that way there will be no evidence of us here in case the Red Circus or WISE decide to snoop out the place after we leave." I ordered.

"Yes, ma'am!" they spoke.

"And good work today, men." I acknowledged, bowing my head and grabbing Yuri's hand that had his uninjured shoulder.

I dragged Yuri into the van, seeing that the captain was already there waiting for us.

"Hop in." He spoke.

I opened the door for Yuri (since chivalry is dead, I thought jokingly) and had him sit down. I got in and closely watched Yuri, making sure that he was okay.

"You disobeyed my commands." The captain spoke.

"Yes, sir. I did." I spoke.

"I told her to." Yuri admitted, panting. "I didn't want her getting hurt."

"It's part of the job to take bullets, literally..." the Lieutenant spoke. "However, because you disobeyed me, not only did you save the kids from a second stunt he pulled, but you also immobilized him to where we can arrest him. You also saved another solider from getting shot. And you're experienced in first aid as you've helped Yuri when other experienced agents couldn't get there in time or didn't know how." He sighed. "I really hate admitting this, but throughout the time we've worked together, you've exceeded my expectations; however, I am officially impressed in your abilities. I should've never doubted your position here as a SSS officer and lieutenant just because you are a lady."

"Thanks. I don't think you're that ugly." I admitted without second thought.

"Thanks— wait what?" he questioned.

"Hm?" I hummed.

"What did you— ...never mind." He sighed. "I'll write the report for the Director. I'll inform him of your vacations from work since I figure you'll help him heal." I was about to speak, before he answered. "Yes, you'll get paid while on vacation."

"Sweet..." I muttered.

"However, next time, please tell me if you disagree with your position in a plan or if you believe there's a better solution. If we're confused in action, we could die." The lieutenant spoke.

"Yes, sir." I acknowledged, feeling a slight pit of guilt inside of my stomach.

"And good job, Yuri. You never fail to impress me, as always." The lieutenant spoke.

"Thanks... can we just hurry up and get to the hospital?" he questioned.

"You heard him. Step on it, grandma." I gruffed to the male driver.

The hospital told me that the SSS would take care of the paper work and medical costs since it's apart of the job's perks. They gave me instructions on how to care for Yuri in his state. I led Yuri out of the hospital, taking the bus to the SSS building so we can go get our car.

Yuri was quiet the whole time, not that I don't mind. I understand with rethinking your choices and wondering how you got to getting shot since I've experienced it before.

I got Yuri into the passenger seat of the car and had Yuri toss me the keys, allowing me to start the engine. By now, us being alone in the car started to unease my nerves.

"Penny for your thoughts?" I suggested.

"How'd you know what to do?" he questioned.

"Dress your wounds?" I questioned.

"Yeah." He confirmed.

"I told you I was in the Westalis military when I was seven, did I not?" I spoke.

"You did, but how did you know exactly that?" he questioned.

"I studied up on first aid when I was seven, so I'd be prepared when they let me into the military after pestering them over and over to let me join. When I was in the military, they gave us first aid classes. Then, during battle, I lost two of my soldiers and friends in the battle, those two saved me when the bombings in Luwen, Westalis. If it wasn't for them, I would've died, and yet I couldn't save them because I froze up." I admitted.

"Then, I was assigned to another rescue mission a few weeks later, and my friend who was there to help save me with the other two, was shot. That time, I refused to leave. I was too close to enemy territory so the military refused to come aid us, I was low on ammo, and I wasn't strong enough to carry or drag him away without injuring him or making it in time. By a miracle, one of the soldier's heard my coordinates over the radio and retrieved me, but we had to leave because the enemy found us, and I had to leave my friend." I explained.

"After that, I left the military after some time, no longer wanting to watch those I love die or unknowingly step into another landmine, then I was sought out to be a spy, and I learned more medical shit there. And voilà, here we are." I smiled.

"Huh." Yuri commented.

"I also got shot twice in that last battle." I smirked.

"Twice? At seven? I can barely handle this!" Yuri exclaimed.

"I was just hella lucky I didn't die." I chuckled. "Now, what do you want for dinner?"

"I still have another question." Yuri spoke.

"Is it about dinner?" I asked.

"No." He admitted.

"I guess I can entertain you." I spoke, letting out a yawn.

"Why'd you kiss me? Twice?" Yuri questioned.

"That's what's so important?" I smiled. "Well, first was a good luck kiss. I was worried you'd be hurt, and look where we are. Besides, that helped our act." I explained. "And second, it was to shut you up so you didn't kill yourself. To calm you down."

Yuri hummed. "Do you want to keep our act fake?"

"What do you mean?" I questioned, turning my head to him before looking back at the road.

"I mean, earlier you were talking about getting rings, and I'll be honest, I've thought about it before." Yuri admitted, turning his head to the window. "I thought about it a lot, to where I planned to go through with it." He spoke, opening the car's storage port and pulling out a black case.

"...Yuri?" I questioned, surprised and pulling over to avoid crashing in my dazed surprise (I did it way better and more smoothly than Yuri did earlier that day, might I add).

"I figured... I'd make it official, especially if we're going to be living together for who knows how long. And... I might've caught something for you, and I was a jerk because I was afraid of falling in love with what I thought was the enemy, because I convinced myself that you'd leave; but you've proven more than once that you'd stay." Yuri smiled, opening the box.

"I know it ain't nothing fancy, no candlelight dinner or something. I would've planned something, but after today, I realized how easy it is to die, and I'd rather die knowing that I tried to be someone good for you rather than be some jerk." He chuckled.

I felt tears well up in my eyes as I started crying.

"Hey! What's wrong? If you don't feel the same, you can just reject!" Yuri spluttered, looking at me concerned.

"Today's been such a roller coaster. First, I get all mad about you and some random chick because I was jealous of her taking you away. Then, I almost have a heart attack that my niece is in danger. After that, I swear I was going to die because I almost lost you to the reaper. And now, I'm being proposed to." I laughed.

"Yeah, I guess I could've waited later." Yuri smiled.

"No. I'm glad you did now. I was thinking about sneaking out tonight and running to the nearest jewelry store to find a ring." I joked.

Yuri placed the ring on my ring finger and I smiled observing it.

Of course it has Yuri's touch. A ruby jewel and silver banding. I thought, swooning over the ring.

"Turn it over." Yuri spoke.

I took it off and turned it over, seeing that underneath, the wording "Mrs. Briar" was welded into it.

"I love it." I admitted. "I love you too."

"I mean, I'm hoping so." Yuri joked, causing me to laugh. "I love you too. Thank you for being with someone stubborn like me."

"That's my line." I smiled.

I'm happy, extremely, but I remembered what I have to do. As part of WISE and the SSS, relationships don't come first; work does. If Yuri found out, could he still love me? Would he still look at his (now-official) wife the same way again?

Something tells me if I told him, the only thing I'd receive from him is a bullet in my head. But I guess that's a story for later, huh?

Parts: One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, current part, nine, ten (to be continued when Spy x Family has more Yuri content!)

Want more Yuri content? Check out these headcannons and one shots!

Yuri Briar x Sick! Fem! Reader

Slightly mean! Yuri Briar x Fem! Reader

Yuri Briar x Fem! Reader headcannons + other fandoms!

Have any requests? Check my masterlist to see the characters I write for: Masterlist (Please request, I have too much free time and too little fics).

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ascendingaeons · 2 months

Text

The Story Behind My "Hymn to Sekhmet"

I was very surprised with how much traction my Hymn to Sekhmet has gotten… so I decided to share the story behind it. This might be quite long, but I think a lot of you would appreciate it.

I have been an eclectic pagan for most of my life. Heathenry was my focus in that sense that I worked with the Vanir and studied runology since I was fifteen. Kemeticism was my passion since childhood, but I was never formally a devotee. I pretty much worked exclusively with Set for most of my life. Our relationship is somewhere between father and son and student and guide. In the summer of 2020, I decided to finally set up a Kemetic altar.

It comprised of three statues and three candles on a small, very old nightstand and was otherwise unadorned. One statue was to Set, another to Bast, and the third to Sekhmet. I focused exclusively on Set and Bast for a while. I was afraid of Sekhmet. I read every book I could find about Her and they nearly all had one thing in common about a Sekhmet-based practice: if you cannot do it yourself, do not ask Her about it. That really intimidated me to the point I took Her statue down several times before it earned a permanent place.

One day in September of 2020 I finally prayed to Sekhmet with an offering of cold water. I felt a circular window of fire about 16 inches in diameter open up in front of my face just above my altar. It felt hot, like the heat of a campfire. I felt that She was looking at me. After a few seconds, the window disappeared. I didn’t interact with Her for a while after that.

In November of 2020, my dad was diagnosed with stage 4 pancreatic cancer. He was given six months to live and chemotherapy was prescribed. I was immediately thrust into the role of caregiver. I drove my dad to and from chemotherapy, gave him his meds and food, helped him to the bathroom, cleaned him up, and anything else I could do. I was awake for about 22 hours a day for six months, even with the help of a hospice company.

One night, when my dad was on respite (what hospice companies call when a patient is sent to a nursing home for a few days so the caregiver can recover), I felt… really bad. I felt alone, afraid, numb, and lost. Without any offering or formality, I prayed to Bast. I asked Her to just stay with me. I suddenly felt myself wrapped up in a blanket of what felt like bubblegum-pink energy. It felt like stuffed animals, cotton candy, a fuzzy quilt, and just… pure love. I later learned that this describes the higher heart chakra’s energy but to me, it was just Bast. She hugged me like that for about an hour until She decided I was okay, and then, very much like a cat, She left.

The days went on with barely any sleep, a lot of emergencies and scares, until one day my dad was finally asleep. It was around four in the afternoon. I was thinking a lot about Sehkmet at this point and Her domain of healing. It was very near and dear to my heart. At the time I was thinking of going back to school to finish my psychology degree and become a counselor. I took the time to get cold water in a nice glass and some fresh bread I had delivered that morning. I put it all on a golden plate I ordered for my altar.

I prayed to Sekhmet, solemnly and respectfully, naming Her Epithets and offering praise in addition to water and bread. I asked… that She let everything be okay and help me to be a better caregiver to my dad. The sad thing is, I was very hard on myself. I felt like I was not doing enough but I later found out that every nurse and social worker from the hospice company had, individually and separately, reported to the company’s administrator in high praise of me. I didn’t know then that some caregivers are really horrible to the point of neglect and abuse. I was doing the best I could in a situation that was out of my control and was given a level of praise that floored me.

After concluding my prayer, I lay down in my bed next to my altar. I was lying on my side when suddenly Sekhmet’s etheric body manifested beside me. I could feel it and somewhat see it with my third eye. She started to rub my back as I lay there. Her hand felt like the sun’s heat reflected off of water, a sensation I knew well from fishing in summer. It felt almost like fire but one that would never burn me. As She rubbed my back, I felt Her head come next to mine. I felt Her face, soft and bristly, next to my left ear as She began to speak words I couldn’t hear. I could even feel the heat from Her breath.

Unlike Bast, Sekhmet stuck around. She followed me everywhere for the next two days. It hadn’t really sunk in yet but I had received what, for me, was irrefutable proof of the Gods’ love. Set was with me my entire life, my teacher and friend. Bast and Sekhmet creaked open the door to theurgy a little bit more. It wasn’t until my Reiki Attunement ceremony that the door was blown clean off its hinges when over a dozen Netjeru physically manifested. During my Attunement, Bast held my left hand and Sekhmet held my right. By the end of the ceremony, the two were hugging me as I lay on my teacher’s table.

As I began working with the Netjeru in my shamanic practice, Sekhmet communicated something to me. She asked me to offer Her my pain and fear. And so I wrote that hymn on what was proving to be a very hard day.

I can never go back to a world where the Gods do not exist or do not love us completely, irrevocably, and unconditionally. My relationship with the Netjeru is one of mutual loyalty, love, admiration, and service. For all intents and purposes, I am a new Kemetic. I have studied Egyptology since I was seven years old and regarded Kemet as a far-flung home, a feeling that has never left my heart since it ignited there when I was a toddler. But that is a story for another day.

Well… that is my story. I hope it finds you well!

Dua Sekhmet! Dua Netjeru!

Image is “Sekhmet Devotional” by Valoreanthes. A Mother Lioness and Her cub, a side of Sekhmet far too often overlooked.

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darklydeliciousdesires · 3 months

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London Will Burn - Chapter Sixteen.

Here it is, besties. The final chapter. Thank you so much to everyone who took the time to read and offer such warm words of encouragement along the way. They mean the world to me! :)

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen

Tag list - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 3,910

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. Minors DNI.

“So, where has the ginger twat taken my granddaughter today, then?”

Rin closed her eyes, counting to ten in her head. “Woburn Safari Park. She told him how much she was missing all the animals back in Africa, so he said he’d take her to where she could see a few of the same.”

It was becoming tiresome, her mother’s unchanged attitude regarding the father of her child. “Mum, you honestly have to stop being so hostile towards him. It shan’t be good, going forward, with him being in our lives to the extent that he will be. I’m not asking you to like him, but a little civility wouldn’t go amiss.”

Diane was resolute, crispy turning the next page in the copy of Hello magazine before her on the island. “I will never be anything close to civil with that piece of shit.”

This did not bode well. Not since she and Sean were... well, Rin wasn’t entirely sure what they were, exactly. Dating? Co-parenting with extras until he earned her trust? They’d been out a couple of times by that point, two dates the week before, one that had ended up in a sleepover at his place. Not that they’d slept much. God, he’d given her such a thorough shagging, she was still glowing from it four days on.

Yes. It was dating, she had to admit that it was. Furthermore, she was enjoying every second of it, when her guard slipped enough for her to do so.

“It’s a pity that you can’t put your own feelings aside for Tiger’s sake,” she spoke, continuing to do her stretches. She and Sokoro were off for a run, Rin glad to have a Saturday morning to herself to do it at a reasonable hour for once, enjoying a blissful lie in until 8am that morning as opposed to being out of the house by 6am.

Her mother viewed her through shrewd eyes, cocking her head slightly. “Is it purely for Tiger’s sake, Catherine?” The slight colouring of her daughter’s cheeks sealed it, though Rin did not utter a single word. “Oh, for heaven’s sake! You’re not, are you? With him?”

She was not in the mood for verbal combat that morning, but it looked like she was about to foray into it all the same. “I am, yes. I’m seeing how it goes with him. He’s genuinely sorry, mum, and I do see that. I need to get to a place of trust with him, though, and he told me he intends to prove himself there.”

“But what he did to you!”

“Is seven years in the past,” she interjected with, lifting her leg to the stool before her to tighten her shoelaces. “He would have absolutely nothing to gain from trying to be nefarious all over again. He has what he wants. I elevated him, made him rich and powerful once more, and he knows only too well what would happen to him, should he attempt to upset the apple cart. I do believe he is earnest, but I want to see if for myself.”

Diane snorted, lifting her coffee cup to her lips. “I think you’re barmy.”

“Yeah?” Lifting her chin, she pulled the laces sharply, double knotting the bow. “And I think, mum, with all the respect in the world, it’s none of your bloody business. Look how far I’ve come under my own merit and judgement. I am not an eighteen-year-old any longer who fell in love with a man she shouldn’t have, a man who had the agenda of his father pressing upon him. Finn is gone; it’s just Sean now. Believe me, he isn’t his dad.”

“Wouldn’t have lost it all in the first place if he was.” Rin realised that she wasn’t going to get anywhere with her mother, so simply kissed her cheek and told her she’d be back later, heading out to find Sokoro in the courtyard, lightly jogging in place.

“Let us depart now, eh, boss? Let’s run past the palace, wave to the King and Queen on our way!” Ever since arriving in London, her dear friend had been hellbent on getting a glimpse of the royal family. He’d scared a poor woman half to death one time while in Waitrose, asking very loudly if she was the Princess of Wales. She had not been, merely bearing a very uncanny resemblance to Princess Catherine.

“So, I hear you and your mother having shouting's this morning before we leave, eh?”

Having shouting’s. How she loved his turns of phrase. “We were, yes. We indeed had words with one another.”

“Over the ging... over Sean, yes?”

She liked that, that at least Sokoro was trying hard not to be hostile towards the father of her child, no matter how protective he was of her and Tiger. “Yes, over Sean. She’s very hardheaded, my mother. What kills me is the fact I think even my dad would have softened by now, and you know how ferocious he could be.”

Sokoro raised his eyebrows, wiping his clammy forehead on the back of his arm. “Kevin was nothing if not a force to be reckoned with, eh?” Pausing as they turned the corner, beginning to run down The Mall approaching Buckingham Palace, he then continued. “But I do agree, eh, I think that he would see how much he has taken to the role of Tiger’s father and not condemn him as your mother does. He ah, he did say something to me, back when she was a baby.”

Immediately, she slowed, jogging in place. “What?”

Sokoro looked uncomfortable, like he wished he’d have thought on his last sentence prior to its delivery. “Ah, I should probably not say, eh. Even though he is gone, I do not want to betray your father’s confidentiality.”

“Bollocks,” she spoke strongly, her eyes widened a fraction. “I’m here, he’s not. Tell me.”

Sokoro shook his head, his own in place jogging coming to a halt. “Okay, okay. We break here. It has been five kilometres.” Moving to a bench at the side of The Mall, he took a seat, swigging from his bottle of water.

“Your father, after Tiger was born, he pull me aside and he tell me all about it, how she came to be, how Sean betrayed you, etcetera. He tell me he was not only heartbroken for you because he know you love the man who got you pregnant despite what you tell him to the contrary, but because he always like Sean.

“He tell me he see him as perfect suitor for you, before all the shit with the sex video, eh. He tell me that if he ever could see you with anyone, it was Sean Wallace, because you are both so similar. But he say most of all, he see you with him because Sean would never stop you from being who you are. We stood outside of the lodge and I remember, he say he wanted to tell him about the baby, because he thought it might change him for the better, make him a good man for you again, but he would not do that to you, not ever. But he say it, Catherine.”

His words hit her square in the chest, the opinion her father held in secret. He’d wanted them to be together, but for the sake of her heart in all its damage done by Sean, never told anyone that other than Sokoro. It left her feeling like something was opening up within her, letting the light in to where she had been shadowed and jaded for the last seven years.

Her father, as it happened, was not as hardened as she’d thought. He’d seen the true Sean too at some point. He’d known that the man he was, and the one he was moulded into by Finn were truly not the same person.

“Did he say anything else?” she pressed with, Sokoro shrugging lightly.

“He say he hate him for what he did to you, this is natural of course, eh. But he also say he know he put him between a rock and a hard place, and with the weight of Finn Wallace bearing down on him, he know, and I quote, “the kid cracked under the pressure, and made my Catherine the fall when I doubt he really wanted to.” I think your dad, he see the same you do in Sean. A man who did what he did so he did not sink under the greater weight.”

It was hard to take in, the enormity of what Sokoro was telling her. Part of her wanted to shred him to pieces verbally for keeping it from her for so long, but most of her saw clearly that he was simply being a man of his word. Her father had shared his thoughts in secret with him, and Sokoro was nothing if not a bona fide confidant.

In all of this, her father’s opinion was something she had desperately wished she could call upon, to know if she was doing the right thing. Now, she had it. It wasn’t first hand, but she knew now that should her dear dad have still been with them, he’d have likely welcomed her and Sean finding a way back to one another.

“Are you okay?”

Sokoro’s question roused her from the daze she’d fallen into, Rin shaking herself with a small smile as she turned to him. “I am, you know. I really am.”

“Come on, let us continue. I feel Queen Camilla at the windows waiting for my jolly smile and wave!” He nudged her with a soft elbow as she got up, laughing and sipping her water before on they continued towards the palace. Their jog landed them back at Mulford Hall just before 10:30am, both immediately heading upstairs to take a shower each, Rin returning to hear the usual Kenyan merriment in the kitchen.

“What are you lot giggling about?” she asked, moving to the fridge to get out some fruit and yogurt, Sokoro, Marcus and Silas all sitting around the island, huge grins fixed in place.

“We are discussing the slang of your motherland, boss,” Marcus spoke, still partially hissing with laughter. “We see on Twitter somebody call Donald Trump a fuck billed twattypus and we all say, it could have been you! It sounds like something you say!”

“We learn so many British cusses from you. Knob, shit bag, twat, bloody fucking bastard,” Silas then weighed in with, counting them off on his fingers as he chuckled with glee.

“Or when she call you twat waffles and you thought it is some kind of British breakfast cereal,” Sokoro chimed, Marcus waving his hands in dismissal as the men roared.

“It sounds like it, though! I had no idea that twat was slang for the female anatomy until we met Catherine!” he laughed, Rin in absolute stitches as she closed the fridge door. They kept her entertained as she went about preparing her breakfast, Sokoro sorting himself and the other guys with gigantic vegetable omelettes and toast.

With a day to herself, she decided to relax before her masseuse arrived, Jenna giving her a much-needed rub down and easing of tension from her locked up back, several knots clicking and cracking under her expert hands. It was a day of pure bliss, her child not arriving back until 7pm, Sean stating that he was also taking her to the museum and out for dinner as well, carrying a very sleepy Tiger into the house. He looked completely shattered himself.

“I’ll take her,” Diane bustled coldly, fixing him with a glare. No, Rin’s words hadn’t sunk in any further. Luckily, Sean didn’t react with any negativity whatsoever.

“Thank you, Diane. It’s nice to see you again, you’re looking very well.”

She turned away from him, her lips slightly pursed. “I wish I could say the same.”

He winced. “Ouch.”

Rin reached for his face, giving him a kiss. “Maybe one day she might finally thaw.” While he expected as much from her mother, he did note that Rin seemed to be behaving more freely with him, making the first move to offer affection. “So, did you and our baby have a good day?”

Right on cue, he yawned. “A tiring one. I’ve been up since 5am, she decided she couldn’t sleep so we took Butch for a walk for an hour, one I ended up carrying her on my back for half of before dropping him off with Minnie for the day.” Hugging her, he rested his chin on her head, Rin laughing softly at the fake snoring noises he began making. “She has abundant energy, though. I don’t know how you cope full time.”

Emerging from beneath his chin, she smoothed her hands down his chest. “I’m used to it, as you’ll become, too. Can I get you a coffee before you fall asleep on me?”

He nodded, kissing her forehead. “Please.”

“Alright, go and rest your weary bones.” He moved to the sitting room and she the kitchen, taking a seat on the sofa and beginning to browse his phone. It might have been a Saturday night, he might have been shattered, but he had a few work-related emails he needed to at least check in with, planning on putting in some time the following morning in his office at home to be nicely ahead for the coming working week.

“Oh, you’re here.” Looking up, he met the narrowed eyes of Diane, the matriarch of the Cavanaugh household taking a seat on the adjacent sofa, eyeing him with her usual level of distain.

“Hello again, Diane,” he smiled, attempting to at least be cordial with the woman. The truth was, he had little to no issue with her, but goodness, she certainly gripped tightly upon the grudge she held towards him. “How are you?”

“I’d be much better if you weren’t here.”

He expected little less than such hostility, but knew he couldn’t meet it like for like. “I understand that, I do. I will be here, though, in your lives. Your daughter and granddaughter are very important to me.”

She picked up a copy of Tatler magazine from the coffee table, huffing as the pages were flicked through with mild irritation. “Until the next chance to use her in your quest for power presents itself. Men like you don’t change, Sean.”

He felt his temper flicker into life, the corner of his mouth twitching. He wouldn’t let her spark it into roaring flame, though. She was probably trying deliberately to wheedle such a response from him, purely so she could point her finger. “As I explained to Catherine, I am in no position to do that. Your daughter has elevated me to my former status, more so, in fact. I have my company, I have my standing, and I have a hell of a lucrative income because of her. I don’t truly have what I want the most, though. Trust me, fucking her over would not be conducive to me attaining it.”

“Oh, wouldn’t it?” she spoke, each word biting in its chilly delivery.

“No,” he spoke with a shrug, his smile widening, “because what I want most is her. I love your daughter, perhaps the most honestly and genuinely I have ever loved anyone. Trust me, my intentions towards her are not what you assume them to be. Far from it.”

He didn’t know, but out in the corridor, Rin stood, coffee in hand, grinning like an idiot to hear him coolly standing up to her mother. She might have known it already, but hearing him state that what he wanted most was her almost provoked a squeak of pure joy.

“Well, I shan’t be doing that any time soon, Sean,” she bustled, just as Rin walked in.

“That’s up to you, I suppose,” he replied, taking the coffee from Rin. “Thank you, darling. I think I might need three more just to stay awake. So, are you still coming with me when I go back up to Manchester on Thursday? We could take Tiger too, make a weekend of it once I am done with Friday’s meetings. We could take her to the art gallery, with her flair for the artistic I’m sure she’d enjoy it.”

She beamed widely. “Yes, great idea, I’d love to. It’ll mean getting her out of her pit early, I suppose. I was surprised you told me she’s been up since five this morning, that child loves her kip.”

“Isn’t this all so very cosy,” Diane muttered sarcastically, shaking her head. “Forgetting conveniently what that vile shit of a man did to you.”

Rin’s hand clenched into a fist where she rested it upon Sean’s thigh, her eyebrows knitting as she sighed. “Which is a mistake he both admits and apologises for, mum. I’ve let it go. You need to as well.”

“I can’t! Not when...” she began, the Tatler magazine cast aside. She didn’t get very far in her retort, though.

“Enough, mum,” her daughter spoke, with quiet firmness as she stared at her. “That’s seriously enough, now. I’m sick of dealing with your attitude. What happens between Sean and I is honestly none of your business, and I am fucking tired of you making it just that. This is my life, you need to but out and stop treating me like a child. That’s the end of it. Sean, come on. Let's move locations.”

He stood gladly, taking his coffee and following her out without further word, Diane sitting there floundering at being shot down so efficiently by her eldest child. “We both stood our ground with her, and didn’t raise our voices once,” he observed, moving up the grand staircase beside her, pausing to gulp back a little more coffee, save it spilling and Diane becoming furtherly vexed towards him.

Rin raised her eyebrows. “We must be growing up, at last.” Arriving in her bedroom, she swung the door open, walking through to where she’d had a little bit of a makeover of the large room, the former section dedicated to her desk and workout items over at the far side by her window now containing a small sofa and television set on the mantle above the fireplace. The space most definitely had more of a grown up feel to it than it had when Sean had been in there last.

Sitting down beside her, he finished his coffee while they chatted on how best to handle her mother, both agreeing to be staunch without rising to her need to argue the toss constantly. The coffee was sadly no match for his tiredness, though, Sean waking with a start hours later to darkness, finding himself draped in a comfortable throw. The bed his sleeping love occupied looked much more comfortable.

“I was wondering if I’d have a companion at some point,” she murmured, turning to cuddle up to his nakedness after he’d undressed and gotten under the covers. “What time is it?”

“Half past two. I’d say time to go back to sleep, but I’m wide awake.”

She grinned into the darkness as his hands felt their way to her, pulling her even closer, lifting her leg to rest over his hip. “Mmm,” she hummed, feeling the hard of his cock press against her abdomen. “Yes, you definitely are, aren’t you?” Her hand reached between them, curling around his cock, working him lazily as she felt the sleepiness slipping away, ducking her head to begin placing hot, open-mouthed kisses upon his neck.

He lay there in a daze of sexual fog clouding him for a few moments, enjoying the feeling of what her hand evoked within before his own reached for her, stroking her softly, feeling her begin to dampen his fingers. Pushing them inside her, his mouth then founds hers, her teeth crushing a soft bite upon his lower lip. Those kisses, all sugared embers and need, began to gain rapid heat, hands working upon one another with more vigour until Sean turned her, slotting himself between her legs and arrowing into her fully with one fluid motion.

She swallowed back his moans as their tongues swirled, her groin prickling pleasantly, nerve endings singing their bliss against the thick swell of his cock as he dragged her walls deftly. It was heavenly, wet velvet softly flexing around hot steel, their veins warming, Rin crying out softly at feeling him burying himself within her again and again.

With his mouth at her neck, consuming her with such all-encompassing force, all that existed was him, that moment, the sound of his groans in her ear as his tongue glided across the column of her throat. Him, just him. He was all she wanted, and to hell with what her mother thought of that.

Trembling against the lean bulk of his chest, the lightning bounced beneath her skin, the weight of him centring, driving himself into her plush wetness, causing moans she barely recognised to be hers. How she had longed for a lover with this kind of skill while they’d been parted, but beneath him there in her bed, she realised she could look forever but never find in a single other person what she had with Sean.

His hips arrowed down purposefully, giving way to a slight rotation that had her floating in the stars, her fingers raking through his hair as she arched up against him, teeth nipping his thick shoulder as her nails grazed his back, digging in and clawing when he began to gain momentum.

She was molten beneath him, singed by the wildfire of his fuck, her walls beginning to flutter around him as his soaking cock pounded her hard, mouth lowering to suck at her nipples, making her come apart beneath him with surging force, Sean coming just moments after her.

They fell asleep that night entangled, swathed in the blanket of one another, Rin awaking early the following morning. The sunlight streamed in, the sound of the Westminster bells softly tolling, yawning as she stretched. Looking up, she was greeted by the sight of smiling blue eyes, shifting up a little to place a soft kiss upon his lips.

There they were again, just as they had been seven years before. Sunday morning, bell song and sunshine.

“I love you.”

He smiled, kissing the tip of her nose. “Finally.”

Finally, indeed.

Finally, they had everything they’d been looking for. Finally, they had love and peace, and finally, although it took her almost two years after that morning to see that Sean was entirely genuine, they had Diane’s support. After all, the mother of the bride couldn’t very well have a sour face on at the wedding of her eldest daughter. Not after she’d bared witness to seeing just how happy the man waiting for her at the altar had truly made her.

In fact, Diane’s tears of joy as they were pronounced husband and wife were the greatest of all the guests, watching Rin held tightly by her new husband, and the complete and utter adoration they viewed one another with. Neither noticed it, though, lost in one another as they kissed, Sean stroking her face with his thumbs as he rested his forehead to hers, repeating the word he had spoken two years prior, when they had truly reconnected.

“Finally.”

The End.

#sean wallace fanfiction #sean wallace smut #gangs of london fanfiction #gangs of london #sean wallace x ofc #sean wallace fanfic #sean wallace fic #joe cole #gangs of london fanfic #gangs of london fic #london will burn #sean and rin

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scripts4dreamers · 1 year

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Not Your Hero. Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

Chapter one, Chapter two, Chapter three, Chapter four, Chapter five

AN: Whaaaaaaat? A chapter of a WIP? From me? Insanity

Characters: Finnick Odair, Coriolanus Snow, Mags Flanagan, James Karakus, Annie Cresta

Pairings: Finnick x reader

Spoiler(s): None

Warning(s): Mentions of blood, death, murder, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, psychological manipulation, intimidation

Prompt/Inspiration: House in Nebraska - Ethel Cain

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While the games are on, no one ever really leaves the viewing room. Finnick knew that, all the mentors did, but for you this was a whole new experience. He watched you pace like a caged animal, stress eat from the neverending flow of food brought in by avoxes, and talk with James in a low voice whenever something happened. He knew for a fact that you didn’t sleep at all. Some of the others did, he did, but you just sat on the couch every night with your knees pulled up under your chin, staring at the screen.

Because of that, you watched Adam Donaldson die in real time on the second night. Finnick had stayed up with you, sitting in a shared and quiet vigil because, if he was honest, he’d seen it coming. Maybe you’d seen it too, because the first tear had slipped down your cheek before the careers had even noticed the smoke from Adam’s small campfire and made the connection. Finnick wished he could say it had been quick and painless, an arrow to the heart, a snapped neck. It wasn’t. It had been a slow day and Finnick knew better than anyone how those kids were trained, first and foremost, to entertain. He tried not to watch Annie, tried not to watch you watching Annie, reminded himself not to tell you that Annie was a good girl, really, that she was just doing as she was told. Compassion would come later, he promised himself, for now you were living one of the worst moments in a mentor’s life. You wouldn’t appreciate a spirited defense of your tribute’s killer.

It took the careers three full hours to finally put Adam Donaldson out of his misery, and you didn’t make a sound the entire time. You didn’t shift or move or eat. You barely blinked. Adam screamed and bled and died, and Finnick watched you bear it, adding another lost life to the list of sins you could never really really be forgiven for. A few mentors tried to stop by and comfort you but you brushed them off or snapped for them to leave you alone, like an animal in a trap. Finnick was the only person who was spared your annoyance so he held your hand and didn’t let go. He didn’t try and tell you that it wasn’t your fault, he knew you wouldn’t have listened. Instead, he just promised that it would be over soon. Just hang on, he whispered again and again, just hold on for a little longer and then it’ll be over. If nothing else, it would be over.

When the dust settled and the remaining body fragments had been collected, Finnick had watched something in you deflate and his heart pinched. He knew that moment, the pain, the guilt, the relief. You’d made it through. You’d gritted your teeth and made it through.

“First one’s the hardest,” Haymitch had slurred, shocking Finnick, who hadn’t thought Haymitch had even noticed what was happening, “Gets easier,” he shrugged, “or so they keep telling me.”

You gave him a look, as though you were weighing up the benefits of biting his head off, but eventually you just nodded, “Thanks, Haymitch.”

“Don’t thank me,” he replied, “I didn’t say it gets bearable.”

Finnick felt a rush of protectiveness sweep over him, but he forced himself to just stay at your side until you assured him that you would be alright, and then he allowed himself a rest. You returned to your pattern. You watched the male tribute from Four get beheaded by a rival a few days later, watched Serena slip away into the darkness, clutching a bleeding shoulder that wouldn’t heal, watched Annie’s psyche start to crack as she isolated herself and cradled the air, imagining it was her partner’s bloody body. And you told it all to Finnick each morning in a dull, monotone voice, the bags under your eyes getting darker and darker with each passing day. He wanted to help. He wished that there was something he could say or do to help you deal with the grief, but he couldn’t. He had to focus, to keep his eye on the end point and, right now, he had other things on his mind.

Annie was AWOL.

Losing Ajack had broken something inside of her. You’d told him the whole story; about how he’d gotten into an argument with the boy from District one, how they’d pushed and shoved at one another until the boy from one had picked up an ax and ended it, hacking at Ajack’s neck while his partner held Annie back. Apparently she’d screamed at the boy to stop, begged him even, and after Ajack’s head had been completely severed, she’d held his body for so long that the hovercraft hadn’t been able to collect it until the early hours of the morning. After that, she’d vanished, disappearing into the bush without any supplies. Whenever the camera found her now, she was muttering to herself, or fiddling with her fingers, or staring out into space like she wasn’t there anymore.

Finnick had never felt more helpless. He’d chewed his nails down to the beds, and used every tool of persuasion in his arsenal to keep sponsors from pulling out. He supplied Annie with food and water, with sleeping gear and climbing supplies. None of it had helped. Now, as he clung to the very edges of his sanity and wracked his brain, he had to admit: he was out of tricks. There was nothing else he could do. The sponsors had pulled out in favor of the pair from district one; Annie had no weapons and, even if she did, she was in no fit state to use them and, worst of all, it had been nearly two days since the last gruesome death. That usually meant one thing; the crowd would be getting antsy and the gamemakers would be planning something awful. He watched Annie’s lifeless body on the screen as she twitched and muttered in her sleep, his heart twisting into painful knots.

“Finnick!” Annie screeched, giggling as she scrambled up the rocks and away from his attacks, “Stop! I don’t want to get wet.”

“Why?” he laughed, pushing up off the ocean floor and letting himself float on his back.

The cool water lapped against his temples, filling his ears and cradling his body in its strong, reliable arms. He loved the water, lived for it. There was nowhere that he felt more at home, or more like himself than when he could taste saltwater on his lips and feel sand on his skin. His stomach churned with anxiety and a mixture of fear and anticipation, but he breathed in deep, filling his lungs with bright sunlight and the smell of warm ocean rocks and let the rocking of the waves soothe him.

Annie was perched on the rocks like a seabird, her long dark hair swirling and tangling in the wind as she watched him swim, a kind of quiet longing in her eyes. Not for Finnick himself of course, but for his comfort, for his ease in the ocean. Annie was terrified of the sea, she always had been. She was a strong swimmer, as all the kids in district four were, but she’d never trusted it, never truly believed that it could carry her and support her weight. She always felt, privately, in the back of her mind, that it was just waiting to drag her under, to a dark watery grave. Finnick opened one eye and gave her, what he hoped was, a confident smile.

“Like what you see, Cresta?” he joked

She scoffed, a delicate blush coloring her cheeks, “You wish.” she paused, worrying at the inside of her cheek, “How are you never nervous? It’s reaping day, and you haven’t even broken a sweat.”

Finnick pushed forward, tipping into a steady tread, and shrugged, “Nothing to be nervous about. We’re fourteen, Annie, it’s not going to be us.”

“It might be,” she argued, “York said that none of the older kids are volunteering this year.”

“Why wouldn’t they be?”

Annie shrugged, “They just aren’t.”

“But they have to.” He insisted, “That’s the rules.”

“We haven’t won in years,” Annie reminded him, “I think they’re just sick of volunteering to die.”

Finnick pressed his lips together, feeling the cold hand of dread creeping into his chest again. No volunteers? That was unheard of. What would happen now? A normal reaping? Could anyone be picked now? Could he be picked? He met Annie’s eye and saw his own terror reflected there in vibrant sea green.

“It won’t be us, Annie,” he assured her, hoping that he sounded more confident than he was, “I promise you, it won’t be us.”

Finnick’s eyes started to sting and he swore softly under his breath, burying his head in his hands and carding his fingers through his hair. It felt like his heart was shattering piece by piece and dragging him down into the depths along with it. Out of the corner of his eye Finnick saw a familiar shadow and, despite everything, some of the tension in his shoulders relaxed. You collapsed onto the couch beside him, reaching out and resting a hand on his back comfortingly. God, he hated how good that felt. He hated how he longed to lean into your touch, to bury his head in the crook of your neck and weep like the broken boy he was. I’m just a kid! He wanted to scream, I can’t do this! I can’t do this anymore!

“I know, Fin,” you whispered, as though you could read his mind, “you’re doing so well.”

A tear slipped down his cheek and he shook his head frantically, “Annie’s screwed. The sponsor’s are gone, she’s barely eating. There’s nothing I can do to save her.”

You were quiet for a moment, “There’s never anything we can do, really. It’s always just a big gamble.”

“I know but-”

“And you aren’t out of sponsors. I spoke to my guys and they’re going to back Annie since-” You pressed your lips together, “since Adam’s gone and Serena-well-she’s not going to be able to hold on much longer.”

Finnick’s head shot up, a mixture of relief and incredulousness filling him so suddenly that he wasn’t even sure he’d heard you right.

“What? Y/N, no-I can’t accept that.”

You shrugged, a hint of a sad smile at the corner of your mouth, “Good thing you don’t have a say then. Take the help, Finnick. If not for you, then for Annie. She needs you on top of your game right now.”

He remembered the way Adam had called for his mother, how you’d flinched as each slow, deliberate cut had chipped away at the person he’d been until there was only a bloody corpse. Annie had been a part of that but, looking at you now, it didn’t seem to matter.

He shook his head again, the momentary relief being swallowed up again by hopelessness, “She can’t win. She can’t even seem to walk in a straight line right now.”

For a long moment you just watched the screen together, two victors acting in perfect synchronicity. You watched the pair from district one slice through the underbrush like demigods, looking powerful and determined and painfully self-assured. Smart money was on them, anyone could see that. They had everything on their side; all the training, all the sponsors, all the gear and, most dangerously, that deadly team mentality that would keep them together until it stopped serving them. Finnick knew how powerful that bond could be, it had kept him alive more than once during his games and his every instinct told him it would get this pair through it too. However, as useful as weapons, sponsors, food and allies were, you’d had none of that. You’d been alone from the moment you were reaped. You had no skills, no real buzz, no friends. No one had given you more than half a look in the Capitol, and you’d come out on top anyway. The thought gave Finnick hope. Maybe Annie wasn’t completely screwed. Maybe, with you by his side, Finnick could still find a way to bring her home.

---------------------------------

No one had really believed Annie Cresta had a shot. Not James, not Chaff, not Brutus, not Seeder, not even Mags really. When Ajack had died, every reliable metric in the book had said that district four’s hopes of having a winner on their hands had died with him. But every reliable metric in the book had also had you pegged as an early death, so you said fuck the metrics, and believed in her anyway. The more you felt Finnick give up, the harder you believed. The more other mentors started to gently suggest that you let her go and move on, the more vehemently you insisted that she wasn’t out of the game yet and redoubled your efforts. At some point over the past few days, possibly when she’d gone against her team and given Adam the death he’d long since earned, Annie Cresta had started to mean something to you.

She was every discounted tribute, every long shot who got written off and left to die. She was you, and she was the tributes you’d already failed to save and, maybe, if you could find a way to bring her home, you would be able to live with yourself for letting Adam and Serena die. Serena’s arm was infected now, badly. Experts said she had maybe three days of agony in front of her and there was nothing you could do to save her. But Annie was healthy. Some part of her mind had gotten her to eat and drink, she wasn’t physically injured, and a lifetime of having enough to eat gave her stamina.

She could win, and she would, you told yourself again and again. She had to.

You told Finnick too, and when you did some of his old sparkle would threaten to rear its head and he would almost smile. Almost. It never lasted. He slipped in and out, between resigned, grieving and unimaginably tense. Sometimes, you had the sneaking suspicion that your hand between his shoulder blades was all that was keeping him anchored to this reality. So you kept it there, and you fed him bits of biscuits and sandwiches, got him to drink water, shower and sleep, and you wondered how long he would last, and what would be left of him if Annie didn’t make it out.

Selfishly, unforgivably, a part of you wondered if he was in love with her. You would never ask, of course. It wasn’t your business, it wasn’t the right time, but you couldn’t stop the wondering. Was Annie the one who Finnick lay in bed pining for? Was she the woman he daydreamed about and had planned a future with? Did it bother you if she was? Always, it came back to the same single fact; it didn’t matter. You wanted Finnick to be happy, and you needed Annie to come home. That was that.

Some days you were so close to the edge that it was only the memory of Finnick’s voice in your head that kept you from crumbling.

Just hold on, he’d whispered, you’re so strong, you can do this, it’ll all be over soon. It was like a mantra now, more than a prayer, a promise that this too would pass. There would be time to fall apart, time to grieve, just not yet. First you had to get through, and get Annie through.

You spent your 17th birthday throwing a massive party for potential sponsors. It was the event of the season, the magazines exclaimed, absolutely anyone who was anyone was invited. Finnick and Mags weren’t there, a few noted, but that was to be expected this far into the games. Your prep team hid the signs of exhaustion under layers of makeup and pressed fake finger nails over your chewed ones. Your stylist pulled you into a tight, revealing outfit that, months ago, you would have been too self conscious to wear out, strapped you into some heels and you were ready. The music was loud, the press was there and the party lasted all night. You let the tv crews interview you, you gushed about the Capitol, choking down disgust. You danced with those victors who had come in support of you, and you flirted and teased your way to raising enough money to buy Annie some iodine for her drinking water.

Back at the control center, after you had scrubbed off the remnants of the powders and creams and sickly sweet perfumes and slipped into something more comfortable, Chaff brought you a cake shaped like a lightning bolt. James took responsibility for all the presents the other victors, and your various admirers, had lavished you with. You and Finnick ate pieces of cake together on the couch, sighing with relief as Annie successfully treated her water and took her first long drink in two days. You didn’t think about your last birthday.

After Chaff and James had led everyone in a genuinely enthusiastic bout of “Happy Birthday”, Finnick nudged you with his arm, tearing your attention away from the screens, where the pair from one were hot on the trail of the boy from nine.

“Happy birthday, Y/N/N,” he said softly, his deep green eyes sparkling with something so sweet it made your teeth ache, “I-”

“You don’t have to say anything,” you interrupted feeling, with certainty, that he was going to apologize for not being with you in the sponsor pit, “there’s more important things right now.”

Finnick smiled with a fondness that had you feeling uncomfortably found out, and he strung an arm around you loosely, turning both of your bodies so you were facing each other. It was the first time you’d seen him look fully away from the screens and monitors in days.

“I was going to say that I’m…I’m glad we met,” he explained, “and that I hope, for your next birthday, we can do something a little less morbid.”

You pressed your lips together, feeling oddly touched, and tried not to think about how, for that to happen, both of your tributes next year would have to be dead.

“Thanks, Finn,” you said instead, “I’m glad we met too.”

He took your hand and kissed your knuckles gently, sending a tingle of electricity through your entire body as he pressed a small gift into your palm.

“For later,” he explained, as you examined the parcel.

You nodded in understanding, slipped the parcel into your bag and, again acting with the perfect synchronicity of two people with identical goals, you both turned back to your monitors to watch for signs of trouble.

Two weeks into the games, after everyone had written her off, you knew Annie had won. It happened quickly, a few days of rain, some flooding and a crack. The dam seemed as though it fell in slow motion and, in mere moments, all the perfectly laid plans Cashmere and Gloss had been working on all season fell to ruin. Serena barely stirred as the wave crashed down on her, by all accounts she died in her sleep and you counted it as a mercy.

The gamemakers slowed the wave, so it didn’t flatten the competition entirely but, by nightfall, even those who could swim were starting to struggle. The beautiful arena was now entirely flooded and Annie was swimming. Not paddling around, not hanging on for dear life. Instead, for the first time since Ajack’s death, she was virtually coming to life. She gilded through the water like a sea otter, evading the other tributes with ease and finding safe areas to rest away from the dangerous currents and undertow.

“She’s going to make it,” Finnick said incredulously, “Oh my god, Y/N, she’s going to make it.”

You nodded, “Hell yeah she is.”

A few stragglers held on for a while but, after another two days, Annie Cresta was airlifted out of the drowned arena, the official victor of the 70th Hunger Games. When the final canon sounded you couldn’t contain the sound of relief and excitement that slipped past your lips, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. It was like watching a dream play out in real life. When you looked at the screen you saw yourself, felt the momentary rush of terror followed by pure ecstasy as you realised that the impossible had happened: you had won, you were going home.

She had won. She was coming home.

If you were happy, Finnick was joy personified. He leapt to his feet and cheered, laughing with the unrestrained incredulousness of someone who had been well and truly hopeless for ages. You smiled up at him as he watched the screen hungrily seeing, for a moment, his youth written on his body like a sign. It was easy to forget sometimes that he was only eighteen. It was easy to forget that you yourself were only technically an adult with how old and world weary you already felt. You tore your eyes away from Finnick and let them fall on Mags who was weeping silently, a wrinkled hand pressed to the base of her throat as she smiled. She caught your eye and extended her free hand for you to take. You gave it a squeeze and you hoped she could feel your sincerity, how truly happy for district four you were. A year after you had personally ripped their chances away, they were bringing home a win. It felt almost fair.

“I didn’t think I would see another win,” she explained to you softly, “not in my lifetime. I didn’t think I would get to bring another one home.”

“But you did,” you said, looking back at Finnick, “you did it.”

Mags shook her head, giving your hand another squeeze, “You did it, the both of you. Finnick is a wonderful mentor, but even he couldn’t have gotten any more help to her without your sponsors. I won’t forget that.”

“You don’t have to-”

“I won’t forget that,” she repeated, “and I’ll make sure he never does either.” she finished, gesturing at Finnick with her head.

At that exact moment Finnick seemed to remember your existence and he turned back, sweeping you up into his arms and spinning you around like a carousel.

“We did it!” He laughed, “We did it, Y/N, we did it!”

“We did,” you agreed, laughing fondly as you detangled yourself.

For the briefest moment when you broke the contact Finnick seemed crestfallen, but it was over so quickly, swallowed up by his happiness, that you almost thought you must have imagined it. He pulled Mags into a similar embrace, whispering something to her too low for anyone but Mags to hear before looking back at you.

“You and me, Y/N/N, we fucking did it!”

You heard Adam’s voice in your head, saw him strain at the restraints on his wrists as he was tortured and jeered at. His sister had watched that. Sweet, kind Genna, who laughed a little too loudly and never quite knew when to stop being friendly, had watched her older brother get systematically and clinically taken apart and she would probably never be herself again now. Serena had been just kid, she hadn’t even started high school yet. She died after days of agony, with a raging fever. Her father had wept when she was reaped. They had been yours, and you’d been less than useless to them. Suddenly you were so tired, so drained. How many days had it been since you slept? The fragile pieces of you were cracking under the strain. James caught your eye, the corners of his mouth tense with suppressed grief. You don’t know what you were looking for really. Not comfort, not saving, maybe an acknowledgement? The shared recognition that something had happened, something had been lost here.

“You lot better get ready,” James said to Finnick and Mags, coming to your rescue, the way he was wont to do, “Annie is going to need you both. You don’t want her to be alone when she wakes up.”

Finnick looked like he wanted to argue, but a brief word from Mags seemed to remind him where he was. He shot you and your mentor an apologetic look, but you could still see the shimmering, bubbling excitement just under the surface, ready to burst forward at any second.

“Thank you,” he said seriously, “both of you. Just-” he breathed, letting out a burst of relieved laughter, “thank you so much.”

You felt James’ hand on your shoulder, a rough but familiar anchor to reality and you gave Finnick a genuine smile. Just a little longer, you heard him whisper in your mind, just keep it together for a little longer.

“Of course,” James said, speaking for you both, “it’s the least we could do.”

That was a lie, but you all knew it, so it couldn’t hurt anyone.

“I’m so happy for you,” you said, “truly.”

Some of Finnick’s franticness seemed to seep out of him into something softer and fonder and you watched, in real time, as he remembered where you were, what you’d lost, what you’d been through.

“Y/N-” he started, moving as though to step toward you.

Your eyes were pricking now, the suppressed panic and rage rearing its head so powerfully that you were almost frightened of yourself. James tightened his grip on your shoulder and, in one fluid motion, moved subtly between you and Finnick, angling his body in such a way as to not be obvious but still clearly making himself a barrier. Finnick recoiled, a flash of hurt crossing his perfectly sculpted face. You wanted to assure him, your instinct was to reach out and promise that you were fine, that he’d done nothing wrong, that of course you wanted to stay and be with him and Mags, but you were just so fragile. James felt like a lifeline, like your protector, swooping in and delivering you from the private hell you’d been living in and, if you were honest, there was nothing you wanted more than to fall apart in private.

Mags tracked the interaction with her eyes, tugging Finnick’s arm gently as he stared James down.

“Come, boy,” she said soothingly, “Annie will be waiting.”

Finnick gave you one last deeply apologetic look, and then nodded, letting Mags pull him away. James didn’t move. He stayed where he was, waiting until every last mentor, even drunk old Haymitch Abernathy, had slipped out of the control center before he stepped forward and crouched down in front of you.

His face was creased with concern, his dark eyes filled with the deep understanding that only someone who had personally put you back together more than once could ever have, and you absolutely shattered. In moments you had collapsed into a fit of broken sobbing, keening like a wounded animal as weeks of pent up anxiety and fear rushed out at once. To his credit, James didn’t try to calm you down, he just let you cry. He’d always been wonderful at knowing what you needed, how to get you through the pain without smothering you or talking down to you. Even before you were a victor. Even when you were just a scared fifteen year old girl who’d been handed a death sentence.

It felt like you stayed there for an eon, working through every last drop of resentment and disappointment in yourself until there was nothing left but a sort of deep, throbbing ache.

“I am happy for them,” you eventually said, voice shaky through your tears, “r-really I a-am.”

“I know,” James assured you kindly, “I know, but you can be happy for them and furious for us at the same time. I know they were when you won last year.”

You nodded, feeling the first slivers of solid ground beneath your feet again as you wiped your face and took deep, steadying breaths.

“Did you cheer and twirl people around too?” you asked, trying for a joking tone and almost succeeding.

“Oh yeah,” he answered, “you bet I did. I was fist pumping the air and shouting like a maniac, I thought Finnick was going to swing on me. I think I threw a chair.”

“What?” you laughed incredulously, “You did not.”

“I’m pretty sure I did,” James insisted, “Y/N/N I was so proud of you. I cried like a baby for days.”

You sniffed and wiped your eyes again, welcoming the change of topic, “You did?”

He nodded, giving you another fond look and giving your shoulder a squeeze, “You were amazing, you did everything right, made good on every opportunity. I did my job, I set things up but you just…” he shook his head, whistling, “you just ran with it. I’ve been doing this for twenty-three years and I’ve never seen anyone come close to the upset you pulled off.”

You felt something that could have been pride, a stubborn urge to take some pleasure in your win, before the sadness won out again and your lip began to tremble.

“Fat lot of good it did them,” you said, “fat lot of good I did them.”

James sighed, “That’s what I’m trying to say here, there’s nothing you could have done. You made it out because you played smart, you fought hard, you kept your wits about you and you clawed your way to the top, not because I did something to get you out.”

“I had sponsors.”

“Not at first,” James admitted, “not enough, not nearly enough. You convinced more people to put their money behind Adam from the start than I’d managed to rustle up for you. At the end of the day the money means jack shit, there’s only so much we can do.”

“I told them to shift their pledge to Annie,” you whispered, Serena’s shaking body flashing behind your eyes like snippets of film, “I could have poured more into Serena. I told them not to, I told them to sign with Finnick and-”

“And Annie won.” he reminded you kindly, “Those rich idiots will blame you for their massive payouts and they’ll trust you implicitly now. How many more kids will you be able to help with their money in the coming years, hmm? The handful of die hard rich people we still had available to us couldn’t have raised the funds to save Serena from that infection, Ash, you know that.”

“I could’ve done something! I could’ve-”

He shook his head, “No, you couldn’t have. Listen, whatever you think you could’ve done, I’ve tried it. I’ve tortured myself with what-ifs for longer than you’ve been alive, they never work. Trust me, you did everything right.”

You tried your hardest to listen, to really take in what James was saying like he was offering you a balm for your aching heart, but the pain just sat there in your chest, stubbornly refusing to dull.

You felt your eyes start to prick again and you longed for home, for your mother’s embrace and the safety of your room.

“Then why does it hurt so much?” You cried, collapsing into James’ chest again as you devolved into a fresh bout of sobs.

James doesn’t have an answer for that, so he just held you close and tried to be as comforting as he possibly could be. James’ feelings for you were….surprising, to him at least. When he’d turned thirty-nine he’d joked to Ivette that the only thing he wanted for his fortieth was to make one return journey to the district with a living person. Just one, he’d laughed with an edge of franticness, he wasn’t asking for the plethora of success stories the mentors from some of the other districts had, he just wanted one.

It had been a joke, mostly, but here you were. When he’d first met you on the train after the reaping, there’d been a sort of ache in the back of his teeth, like the ghosts of the countless hours spent biting down on his jaw were finally coming back to haunt him. You were so young, he remembers thinking, not yet sixteen and already doomed to die. Only…there was something about you, something in your eyes that felt like defiance. It felt like anger, like the will to live. James had looked at you on the train and had seen himself, but even that hadn’t been enough to override his deep dread. He’d lost too many to have any real hope for your survival. At most, he hoped you would die quickly, and without suffering.

He still did his job, of course. He smiled, he made contacts with possible sponsors, liaised with stylists and publicists, he gave you advice on how to play smart, and he mapped out a place along his spine to tattoo your name, alongside the nearly forty others he carried with him, when you died. Unfortunately, as the big day came closer, James had gotten sort of fond of you. You were funny and smart, and you had a sharp tongue that made him laugh incessantly, but that also spoke to how personable you could be. Your interview had been a smash hit. You had an instinctual knack for grabbing an audience’s attention and holding it. For the first time in decades, James had felt something resembling hope, but he crushed it down. He reminded himself that there was only so much he could do, that personability wasn’t enough. He’d settled down and re-resigned himself to watching you die and delivering you home in a box.

The games started and when you made it through the first day, and the second, and the third, that damn spark of hope had come back in full force. It was small, he tried to temper it but when, on the fourth day, you’d managed to literally tear your way out of a net with a combination of your hands and teeth, and had successfully rewired the trap to spring up and capture your original capturer, he’d known that you could win. James had never worked the sponsor circuit that hard. He barely slept, he did anything and everything he could to get you whatever you needed; medicine for your bloody hands, food, some wire and, eventually, a current generator. He’d poured twenty-two years of dashed hopes and dreams into you, broken every carefully cultivated rule he’d ever set for himself about not getting attached and, when Claudius Templesmith announced that you were the winner of the sixty-ninth annual Hunger Games, he had wept like a baby and cheered until his voice was hoarse. Just two months shy of his fortieth birthday, James had gotten to make his return journey with you by his side, broken, battered and scarred, but alive.

Afterwards, James couldn’t quite shake his feelings of responsibility for you. He was still your mentor and you were still his tribute, and now the game he was determined to get you through was just life, the After of it all. He had never been able to bring himself to find a nice man and settle down or to have some kids of his own, but if he had, he imagined he might feel about them the way he felt about you. So this, sitting with you in his arms while you fell to pieces…well, it hurt pretty damn bad.

“Y/N/N,” he said gently, when your body had stopped heaving and your violent sobs had softened and faded, “let’s get you home, yeah?”

You nodded, wiping your eyes with the heel of your palm, and James couldn’t help but see your youth. You were a couple of days past 17, practically a baby in his eyes, and already the kind of tired that most adults don’t get until their mid-forties. You knew too much, you’d seen too many horrors and carried too much grief to ever be carefree, the way a 17 year-old should be and, for the millionth time, James felt the rush of pure, black rage bubble up in his stomach. He would tear the Capitol down for this, he promised himself. Not today. Not now, when Snow could take revenge for anything James did out on you and Ivette, but someday. Someday he would find a spark and he’d do what he did best, what had gotten him in that victor’s chair in the first place; he’d stoke it into a blaze, an inferno that would burn out the infection of the Hunger Games for good.

You let your mentor pull you up and walk you back to your apartments, now empty of tributes, and you clung to him like a child, wondering why you could so easily let yourself be held by him, but not by your own parents. Some small part of you wondered if this is how it started, if all those lonely victors you’d met, who had no one but each other, had once had family and friends who they couldn’t bear to be around anymore because they reminded them too much of a version of themselves that was long dead. It felt different, you noticed, as you and James sat down for dinner at an empty table. Not bad, just different, knowing that, on every floor but one, someone like you, with more scars than they deserved, was sitting down to dinner in an equally vacant apartment. Everyone had failed except Mags and Finnick. It should have felt depressing and morbid, and it was, but it was also a kind of solidarity. You weren’t suffering alone. The Capitol had done this to all of you, together and, in a way, that meant none of you were alone. Maybe this was your new home, maybe this was what you got now.

You waited until you were alone in your room to open Finnick’s present. It was small, about the size of a plum, wrapped in soft blue paper and twine. It looked too rustic for the Capitol, you noted with a sudden rush of warmth, as though he’d brought it from home just for you. Slowly, being careful not to tear the wrapping paper, you peeled it open, revealing a beautiful spiral shell, cleaned and polished, and woven bracelet. It was a combination of brown leather, blue chord and flat pearls braided together carefully, with practice and skill. Finnick and Mags both wore similar bracelets, you’d seen them weaving them aimlessly whenever they got stressed, but this was different. This one had been made for you. It wasn’t flashy, or polished, but it fit your wrist perfectly and you knew that, if it was your choice, you’d wear it forever. Slowly, you pushed yourself up and made your way over to the phone, dialing the extension for the floor below you.

“Y/N,” Finnick said, without hesitation, on the third ring, “I’m so sorry, I can’t believe I was so tactless, I-”

“What would you have done if I was James?” You interrupted, smiling despite yourself, “I could have been James, you know?”

Finnick paused and then laughed, his voice tinged with barely suppressed exhaustion, “But you’re not James, are you? You’re my-” he corrected himself, “you’re Y/N/N. Mags made me promise to give you some space, but I knew you’d call.”

You hummed in agreement, worrying at the inside of your cheek as the silence stretched, warm and comfortable, “How is she?” you eventually asked.

“Annie?” Finnick asked, “she’s…she’s alive. That’s all that matters.” he continued with a deep sigh, “Her mind is fragile right now, I’m not sure she understands what’s happened exactly, but…yeah.”

“It’s early days, Finn,” you replied instinctively, “you remember what it was like at the start. I’m sure you were a little fragile too. She’s been out of the arena for less than 5 hours, give her time.”

“I knew where I was,Y/N,” he countered ruefully, “I knew it was over, I knew I’d won.”

You sighed, “Give her time,” you repeated, “she’ll come back to you when she’s ready.”

“The doctors say she had a psychotic break,” Finnick said, his voice small and vulnerable, “they say she might not ever…that she might always be…”

“She’s alive,” you interrupted, reminding him of his earlier words, “you’ve got the rest of your lives to figure out how to move forward from this, and yeah maybe she’ll always be a little fragile. That’s alright, we’ll take care of her when she needs us to.”

“We will?” Finnick asked hopefully.

“Of course we will,” you insisted, “you, me, Mags, Chaff, James, even Haymitch. We’re all here for you, and for her.”

“I’m sure Haymitch has some thoughts about that,” Finnick replied, jokingly.

You smiled, “Yeah well, he’ll have to take it up with me if he does.”

“Terrifying,” Finnick said, and you could hear the smile in his voice. Again, you sat in silence, just enjoying the sound of one another’s breathing, before Finnick continued, “ Did you open your present?”

You looked down at the bracelet, “Of course I did. Thank you, by the way, it’s beautiful.”

“Pretty bracelet for a pretty girl, what can I say? Just made sense,” Finnick joked, slipping into his old seductive persona, which pulled a breathless laugh from your chest. You could imagine the catlike grin on his face as he lounged against the wall, all faux grace and elegance, the picture of destructive beauty. “But really, you like it?” he asked in his regular voice.

“I love it,” you promised.

There was a pause on the line, and then Finnick let out a shaky breath. You could feel the exhaustion in your own body catching up to you again, the weeks of staying awake using expensive Capitol medication finally coming for their due.

“I-uh-I need some sleep,” you explained, “I’ll see you soon, Finn.”

“See you soon, kid,” he replied, “and thank you again for-”

“Stop thanking me,” you insisted, fondly, “and don’t call me kid.”

You hung up before you had a chance to change your mind and, as you lay down in your bed and drifted off to sleep, the ghosts of the veldt crept in, joined by two new faces; a tall, lanky boy with a sister who laughed too loud, and a young girl, clutching an infected shoulder, writhing with fever.

—

Finnick stared at the phone for a long time after you hung up, trying to parse his emotions in a way that made sense. His heart was a complete wreck, torn between grief and joy and hope and, fuck it, why hide it, love. Annie was alive, but broken. You were safe, but exhausted. He had his family, but he had secrets, and he’d never be able to stop towing the line without risking losing it all again.

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered into the empty air, covering his mouth with his hand.

Beetee had assured him that he’d blocked the audio bugs in the apartments, but old habits die hard, and Finnick wasn’t taking any chances. Not with this. Not with you. He ached for the feeling of your hand between his shoulder blades, the comforting weight that had kept him grounded for weeks and that he’d grown to rely on without even noticing it. You had a strange way of worming your way into him like that, like a drug. One hit and he was hooked for months, chasing more time, chasing more closeness.

“Finnick, dinner’s ready!” Mags called from the dining room, “The doctor sent us updated reports on Annie.”

“Coming!” He responded, casting one last look at the telephone as he left, adjusting the band of woven leather, chord and pearls on his wrist.

#jordsie #jordsie writes #The Hunger Games #thg #thg imagine #hunger games #hunger games imagine #the hunger games imagine #finnick odair #finnick x reader #finnick odair x reader #finnick imagine #finnick odair imagine #finnick x you #finnick odair x you #reader insert

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sagesilentfire · 7 months

Text

I FINISHED A SKETCHBOOK! Every page is drawn upon. It only took me... eight years. Wow. I only started working on it in earnest about six months ago, though, so... yeah.

TO CELEBRATE: I want to take one of these sketches and develop it into a full rendered digital painting. I will make a fun little quiz and we'll narrow it down to one drawing. Quiz and logistics coming later, but will be posted here.

A lot of this is me figuring out designs for characters I haven't even written about yet, so look out for that. I'll elaborate one every sketch if you're interested, so keep reading if you want to know who's who. The sketches are generally in reverse chronological order from top to bottom.

1. Alice, a new character in Star and Marcie and the Forces of Evil, my latest project. She's fighting. She's a fighter. She's a love interest, but I hope I make her interesting on her own.

2. Cinder, wearing a shirt Kowari and Kultarr got for her. He will never take it off.

3. Various faces for Iako, a character in my next project that I'm 90% sure on the design for. She lives in a world of kitsunes who accidentally got addicted to gaining their nine tails through murder. Also magic powers are cursed. Iako wants to make magic better, so she goes on a trip to a mysterious island that holds the key to ending the curses... and their lives. Also it's based on the original premise of Lightlark. Hehe. Prologue can be found here. It's part 2.

4. lorge Sílthéy and small derg.

5. Practicing SilkWings and playing around with dragon faces, plus their defining attributes.

6. ANCIENT Sílthéy expression practice. This is years before the eye redesign, but you can still get the essence of her character and how she's born out of my religious trauma.

7. ANCIENT Sílthéy expression practice cont.

8. SilkWing practice with face shapes.

9. Alice fullbody. My second drawing of her, getting her design down.

10. a. Evelyn, the protag of a story I'd like to tell someday. I can't say much more than that, except that it's a tragedy of epic proportions. b. Human Sílthéy

11. Alice and Shinjai. Shinjai is a main character in SAMATFOE, and she and Alice have an almost-thing going.

12. Iako and a still unnamed... side character? They're studying the book Iako gets in the prologue.

13. This is [NAME REDACTED]. They're from a universe inspired by Star Wars, but if it was animated and also deeply weird. [NAME REDACTED] is [TOP SECRET INFORMATION]

14. First drawing of Alice. Figuring out her cheekmarks, and what I wanted to keep in her show design (she's based on a one-off background character).

15. More Iako drawings. Left out her hair in a, can't remember if it was intentional or not.

16. A dragon from a Wings of Fire inspired sci-fi world.

17. RPG species. They're aliens who are eusocial, and females are split into four "genders"/roles in society. This gender is soldier, distinguished by their massive claws and size. Their job is everything that requires strength.

18. An early Tethalaos, and also an entirely plausible form for them to take.

19. Above mentioned RPG species. This gender is gatherer, distinguished by their small body and delicate hands.

20. Another dragon from above mentioned Wings of Fire inspired sci-fi.

21, 23-26. More sketches of [NAME REDACTED]. As you might guess, I quite like them. I just think they're neat, and I wanted to get their design down solidly.

22. Wasp friend :D

27. Shinjai's new crown, as seen in the latest chapter of SAMATFOE.

28. Funny Christmas Carol-inspired AU of SAMATFOE that I drew after being bludgeoned over the head with Christmas music for hours in a holiday sale I was working at.

29. Sílthéy being big mad.

30. RainWing. Not sure who this is.

31. Toffee's Mewberty wings.

32. More Evelyn.

33. LunarWings, but in my sci-fi world.

34. Yet another species in my sci-fi world.

35. Star and Marcie from SAMATFOE

36. Espina, a character from an urban-fantasy boarding school story about being bonded to animals people often find disgusting and repulsive. Espina controls wasps.

37. All the they/them nonbinary characters in SAMATFOE at the time of this drawing. From left to right: Nova, Toffee, Necahua, Dr. Edevane, Mayhem and Miette Maizley, Higgs, and of course, Tethalaos. Drawn at a nonbinary people meetup.

38. Sílthéy again

39. The oldest drawing in the book, Darkstalker from before we even knew what he looked like. An old doodle, but it proves how dedicated I was to Darkstalker being a good guy back in the day.

40. A design for an old idea I had of a hollow mountain filled with outcasts from society. Might revisit it, there's enough there to make at least a novella.

41. Toffee fashion sketches.

42. An old drawing of Sílthéy in her Wings of Fire dragon form, a hybrid named Liminal (nicknamed Lin). I'm pretty happy with how it turned out, honestly.

43. Sílthéy even BIGGER mad

44. More from the hollow mountain. The outcasts are protected by these guys, and in exchange they're cleaned and fed.

#queue queue #art #my art #wings of fire #other people's stories #samatfoe

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we-return-in-waves · 1 year

Note

Top 5 lines you’ve written in your fics?

oh my god this took me ages i was here agonising over my own writing like WHATS THE BEST?? also, i have discussed some favourite lines in an ao3 wrapped so i have deliberately exluded those from this list! under the cut <3

And when Gaara pulled off his clothes and kissed every scar on the damaged blunt instrument he called his body, love pouring luminous in the light of his shallow-sea eyes, Lee finally understood why someone would use the Eighth Gate even at the cost of their own life. - march of progress [succisa virescit (cut down, we grow back stronger)]

UNAPOLOGETICALLY THIS FUCKS also it's personally my favourite line of the lee chapter of mop by a mile. also, funny joke, but when i was putting this list together of all the contenders i realised that i used the word luminous in no less than four of them. i need more words

Gaara pressed himself closer in lieu of using his voice, which had, for the first time in his life, abandoned him entirely, placed his hands over Lee’s flaming cheeks, and kissed him. Kissed him like a man dying of thirst, kissed him like he was an oasis, kissed him the way sunlight kisses flowers at the first stroke of dawn and whispers to them, bloom for me. Kissed him and kissed him and kissed him. - Anthesis [Infructescence]

because how dare i write somethign so aesthetic into deranged paneenis honestly

Now, he’s on his back with his legs folded on either side of Lee’s torso, and Lee is sliding home and he feels so much bigger this way, braced over Gaara with his hair shining in the moonlight, and Gaara shuts his eyes in both bliss and fear that if he looks he won’t see himself, because he knows Lee was at Neji’s tombstone today and he usually doesn’t initiate like this, and if Gaara has to look up and know he is a placeholder for a dead man and then return home to Sunagakure in the morning his heart will cease to beat. - spoken words

i feel like there's a lot of lines in spoken words that absolutely slap way harder than they have any right to for a fic i wrote in less than six hours. but i especially love this one, because i said "ouch" OUT LOUD while writing it, dfjkghfk

The feeling is indescribable. It’s like the first sip of hot coffee on a winter morning, like the crescendo of instruments heralding the chorus of a beloved song. It’s like falling down stairs, it’s like winning a battle, it’s like the bone-deep relief of crossing the threshold of a place that feels like home. - an eight-fold tempo, an eight-letter heart

this was SO HARD could do just a top five lines ever just out of this fic alone i am so proud of it. i picked this one though for two reasons: the first, because i spent a long time thinking while writing the passage this is in thinking about what it feels like to fall in love for the first time, and i tried to channel all the emotions i remember: that blinding, heart-racing adrenaline spike of exhilaration mixed with vulnerability and fear of the unknown and the inexplicable feeling of safety and comfort that being with your loved one brings. and im just REALLY happy with how it came out. second, because this reads so melodically in my head and i just love how it sounds both in my head and read aloud. catch me podficcing my own fic lmaoo

Gaara looks up. Blinks those luminous eyes. The coppery filaments of his eyelashes shine white in the cold moonlight. Lee realises, with a start, that it is not simply the glow of healing jutsu or the light of the moon that illumine the flat seafoam irises, no, something behind his retinas reflects the faint light from deep within, a diamond of fluorescence, bright in the darkness. His pupils, normally invisible in the daylight, are slitted and animal. Lee wonders if this is a by-product of being born to host a tailed beast. If he can see in the dark. He looks inhuman. Surreal. Lee does not think he has ever seen anything so hypnotic. He cannot look away. - sing a song of sleeptide

argh i am just so pleased with how this reads to me, plus i loooove getting to make up some lore about gaara and the effects being a jinchuuriki might have had on him <3

thank you so much for the ask <333

#ask game #flow i lov u sm for this #nightingaleflow #fanfiction #writing gronp hours #ao3 #gaalee #<- since these are all glg fics lol

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cf56 · 1 year

Text

My thoughts on episode 10

SPOILERS for season 3, episode 10 of the Animaniacs reboot

So that's great. I took two hours to write this entire review, and then with one press of control + Z, it was completely gone. Great site Tumblr. Really works as intended.

I was in a better mood, but having to rewrite this ENTIRE thing sucks so badly. I try to give my genuine thoughts as I go, and it's impossible to replicate that on the second try. I want to scream. Why can't this week just go right?

So now you're getting a negative opening for what was a super positive review. I seriously want to punch a wall. A website meant for long posts doesn't have an editor designed for them. That's just great.

I can't rewrite that whole thing. Just have a collection of screenshots and some jumbled thoughts.

I'm sorry for Pinky and the Brain fans that their final showing was so short. I didn't like Brain talking about the "endlessly repetitive formulaic rebooted franchise that relies on just a handful of tired characters." You can say it's the writers taking a shot at themselves, but it really isn't. It's not their show. They didn't create the characters. Combined with the ending, it just feels a little disrespectful to the people who put their heart and soul into creating this show in the first place, and to the fans who genuinely love these characters.

Look at them being silly!

I can't gush enough about the song. Such cute animation, such powerful music!

I teared up while listening to it this time. I'll probably do the same on every future watch.

I liked that Wakko was right about everything and had the idea that saved the day. The Warners literally saved the world and they'll still be treated like garbage by everyone around them.

The Joe segment was funny, especially the zoom out at the end. I liked hearing "Waltzing Matilda" in the background.

Dot was so cute wanting to go on the teacups, just being infatuated with the idea of spinning around in a little teacup!

This segment is the epitome of "this is my life now."

Poor Wakko has the worst luck. The SAME CLOWN just happened to be at this carnival? At least we know he got down from Mars.

I thought it was weird to have two cataclysmic endings for the reboot six minutes apart from each other. Although they say this sketch was written for season 1, I find it really hard to believe that this wasn't originally meant to end the season/reboot, especially with Dot's quip at the end. I'm not sure I would want this to be the ending, though. It would have sucked if the Warners were the ones who explicitly ended their universe and killed everyone inside. That would have proven everyone right about their destructive nature all along.

I thought this was a refreshing segment. Slappy sounded and looked great. Like I expected, it was short and there was no Skippy, but I'm happy it exists. I was surprised and happy to see that they got Sherri Stoner to return for work on the reboot.

I liked how Everyday Safety was just a never-ending cascade of total nonsense.

The Council is not pleased.

I thought Wakko's bottle song was catchy. I liked that it actually sounded like Wakko blowing. I wonder if they got Jess to do that for real in the studio?

And the ending. I wrote four paragraphs about it, and it sucks so bad because I thought I made my points quite well. Let me try again.

I understand the metaphor with the abrupt and sudden ending. I know the asteroid is meant to represent Hulu. I just don't think they should have pushed their bitter disappointment with the show ending directly onto us. They should have thought it through a lot better.

If they were going to go doom and gloom, which they shouldn't have, they should've at least given the ending some emotional weight. How am I supposed to feel anything when the characters themselves don't show any reaction to their unexpected, oncoming violent deaths? I'm not saying it should have been super depressing with crying and begging. They just should have given a genuine reaction instead of doing business as usual. The closest set of siblings in the world is about to go out in a fiery blaze, and they're not even touching each other. They're just standing near each other awkwardly. Have them embrace and accept their death with a positive remark about how it was all worth it. That would at least give some closure.

What they should have done, if I could rewrite it from scratch, is give us a satisfying, happy ending. Show the Warners finally earning their freedom from the tower after 90 years. Maybe have them gaze at the sunset together, mirroring how the sun rose at the very beginning of the reboot. Even if they didn't have time to animate new scenery for something like that, anything would have been better for this. This ending just feels empty. It lacks any emotion besides pure shock and it feels like an F you to everyone who cares about the show. The creators might have intended that F you to feel like it was coming from Hulu, but Hulu didn't write this scene. The reboot writers did, and they had the power to leave us with something better. This could be the last Animaniacs we ever see.

I'm at least happy they attempted an ending. The original didn't have one at all. It just sucks that Animaniacs had to end unexpectedly and unsatisfyingly both times it's been suddenly cancelled. The reboot was supposed to fix that.

This was perhaps the most entertaining episode of the season for me. It has one of the greatest Animaniacs songs ever, maybe the best song of the season, I'm still not sure. I still love The Island of Dr. Warneau a lot, so I'm giving this episode a solid second place in my final ranking for the season.

Episode 6

Episode 10

Episode 3

Episode 9

Episode 7

Episode 4

Episode 2

Episode 1

Episode 5

Episode 8

That means that the majority of episodes this season are episodes I would consider really good. The top 4 are all episodes I would consider really great. I'll give my thoughts on the season as a whole in my collective season 3 review, but I'll need a few more days before I start writing that. I need some time to collect myself and reflect.

I'm sorry for how this review turned out. The first version felt a lot more positive, because in this attempt I just wanted to express my more well-developed thoughts, which happened to be criticisms. I liked this episode a lot. I just so desperately wish I hadn't lost that first version. It only adds to the most heavily conflicting mix of emotions I've ever felt in one week. I was feeling good, and now I'm knocked down again. I'm sorry to be the one putting so much negativity into the fandom. I want this to be a positive place for all. If I wasn't able to express my emotions here, though, I wouldn't be able to deal with them at all. So thanks to those that have been listening.

I encourage you to add to the discussion of this episode if you want. If you're from the future, please don't say anything about any of the episodes that come after this ;)

#animaniacs #animaniacs season 3 #animaniacs reboot #animaniacs 2020 #animaniacs screenshots #animaniacs analysis #animaniacs spoilers #animaniacs episode 10 #cfposts

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blubushie · 1 year

Note

have you talked about how you got misty? i feel like you have but i dont remember

I got Misty at the very very start of 2022 from a breeder out near Chico CA (I was going to get a shelter dog because I love shelter dogs but unfortunately they wouldn't adopt to me because I live in a van). The breeder was not responsible and when Misty was given to me, she had fucking parvo. I spent six hours with her and she never stopped vomiting even after we'd been parked for four hours (I thought that maybe it was just carsickness, my childhood dog got carsick when I first brought her home).

But no, four hours later she didn't improve. So I drove her straight to the emergency vet because they were the only one open at that hour, and they immediately took a parvo test. And guess who came up a hard positive. They took her in and I camped out in the carpark until morning. She was stable but her outlook wasn't good ("critical but stable") and I then had to make the drive another hour to a different vet who could hold her in-house and treat her, as the emergency vet was only open at night. She spent ten days in ICU and then she came home, and she spent a month in quarantine at the house. It sucked because I couldn't even pet her with my bare hand due to risk of contamination to my older dogs. I spent less than six hours with my dog before she was taken from me by a preventable disease.

The breeder was fucking horrid. Kept claiming she didn't know she had parvo, but I don't buy that for a second because I asked why Misty was damp when I picked her up and she said it's because she bathed her. Either the woman was drying off Misty's vomit (and thus, as a breeder, must have at least suspected parvo) or she was outright washing the vomit and diarrhoea off of Misty, which would've been a near-definite positive for parvo in a 10-week-old puppy. And the breeder, upon finding out how dire Misty's condition was, insisted I just bring Misty back instead of taking her to a vet. She was very fucking insistent I not take Misty to a vet. I am fully convinced that if I'd brought Misty back she would've just been allowed to die.

Anyway I informed the vet of all this, and then informed animal control when they showed up to take a statement, and last I heard from the officers on the case the breeder is now blacklisted from breeding for the next five years due to not fitting California standards when it comes to disease control and prevention and negligence to provide veterinary care (which is required by law in California for breeders). The vet attested that Misty's stomach was completely empty and she hadn't eaten in at least three days, so there's no way the breeder hadn't known she'd given me a sick and dying dog. And she was content to let it run its course and kill said dog.

Anyway, I got my money back, Misty recovered, and the breeder can no longer breed dogs. I had some behavioural issues with Misty at first because it's incredibly hard to train her--she's headstrong and unfortunately because of her parvo situation she's been very wary of food ever since and she's not food-oriented in the slightest. (This is why she accepts so little treats. It took multiple Macca's runs before she'd accept even a piece of the meat). She nipped a lot, but I've never counted that against her because she's half-Aussie and that's completely normal for her breed and I knew what I was getting into with a herding-retriever mix.

For her it was mostly just training. Sit, stay, heel, things like that. She's learnt as time goes on and she's heavily influenced by praise, but I can't give her too much or she gets too excited and then distracted. She can sit, she's still learning to stay, she can heel (and knows not to jump up on people) but getting her to stop barking once she's riled up is a nightmare. But much like my first dog she picked up my visual cues while working immediately. A rising whistle is "come to me," a short chirp means "look at me," and a simple tilt of my head tells her which direction we're going to go in. It's very useful when she's stopping to sniff something, and she doesn't run off. I left her off-lead in the bush but she always stays on lead around roads except in Outback towns, where she free-roams and goes says hello to people while I do things. One of the funniest sights I've ever seen is walking out of the Daly Waters Pub and whistling for her, and from up the track comes Misty, Kevin the lab behind her, Blackface the goat behind him, and Polly the horse a short distance behind them. All in a row. She's got a massive crush on Kevin. If I park in Daly Waters and open my door she launches over me and bolts off to go find her boyfriend.

This is the first time Misty's been back in California since I got her and she's very much enjoying it, more than I am :]

#blu whos #mistyposting

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hookaroo · 9 months

Text

Laden of the Torn (13 of 25)

AO3 link Catch up on tumblr: One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Tagging @priscilla9993 @cocohook38 @killian-whump <3

***

Killian eventually lost count of the number of barbed hooks that had to be torn out of his skin. Not all of them came easily. One of Mandible’s assistants had been too timid, unwilling to use the proper amount of sudden force, and after enough agonizing bouts of tug-of-war, he’d had to be replaced with a peer who used a rougher touch. Killian’s jaw ached with tension, which was spreading to the base of his skull in a pulsating throb.

The cave was largely quiet now, hours past the excitement of new arrivals and late into the night. Killian’s eyelids were heavy, his limbs shaking with exhaustion, but sleep was out of the question as the healer monkeys continued their work on him. At least they had made it possible for him to shift to a seated position, though it was still far from comfortable as inflammation stiffened his back. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment in an attempt to combat sandy dryness.

Mandible leapt from his shoulder and landed with a soft thud on the dirt near his right knee. Killian squinted at his tormentor--he was currently adding a pawful of bloody fishhooks to the pile already soaking in a basin of scented water.

“Nearly done,” said Mandible, and Killian raised an eyebrow.

“Aye?”

The monkey bared his teeth--playfulness? Regret?

“Halfway,” he amended, and Killian stifled a groan. Mandible rinsed his paws, then tucked beneath one arm a stack of the sticky leaves they were using to cover each bleeding puncture. Killian had watched them apply these crude bandages to the still-snoring Blackbeard, what seemed like hours ago, during the ten minutes of treatment the lucky bastard had slept through.

Mandible passed the supplies to the assistants tending Killian’s back but did not rejoin them. Instead, he loped abruptly to a far-off corner of the cave for a moment, and Killian was too tired to attempt to focus his eyes in the dim lighting. The healer monkey returned shortly, though, with a second animal-skin pouch strapped across his back.

Trying to ignore the periodic ripping sensations burning stripes across his shoulders, Killian watched as more clay pots emerged from the pouch.

“Mandible,” Killian began hesitantly. Mandible glanced at him in acknowledgment but continued to work. “What are the chances that… I mean… how confident…” He sighed, grimacing, logic overcoming hope. “You don’t really have a cure for me… do you?”

Mandible studied him in that peculiar way of his, up and back down in jerky movements of his head. Then he gently took hold of Killian’s hand, all business again. As he rotated it palm upwards, the hooks awaiting removal from Killian’s arm tugged mercilessly by the movement, Mandible said,

“I will need more details concerning the curse, and time to conduct an examination. But I have some ideas, and Laden, should you succeed in bringing Puzzle home to us, I give you my word that I will do my utmost to reunite you with your daughter.”

It was hardly a promise of success; Killian knew better than to expect that. And he felt slightly mad for having enough hope to even ask. Yet he knew these creatures had at least some command of magic. He’d witnessed that firsthand. And surely Gothel could not have accounted for every form of magic in her plans, especially from such an unlikely source; perhaps the assistance of these new allies would be precisely--

“What the devil are you doing?”

The exclamation came out harsher than Killian had intended, and the two monkeys on his shoulders leapt from their perches in alarm. But Mandible, unperturbed, kept a steady hand. He had smeared a thick black paste all along the inside of Killian’s wrist and was now using a stone dagger to score a shallow cut perpendicular to the veins running up into his hand. Or rather, it ended up as a shallow cut; the point at which it began, near the base of his thumb, was significantly deeper and oozed black-flecked droplets of blood. Perhaps Mandible was accustomed to the thicker skin of his usual clientele and had pressed too hard to begin with.

Before the healer could explain himself, there came a pitiful groan from nearby, then Blackbeard slurred,

“Shut yer gob, Hook; give this hangover its proper respect.”

Killian rolled his eyes, fighting the instinct to pull away as Mandible began a second slash parallel to the first.

“This will reduce your chances of developing infection,” said Mandible, also choosing to ignore the grumbles of Blackbeard for the time being.

“As you are aware,” gritted Killian, “I have several accessible openings to choose from; there’s hardly a need to create new ones.”

At this, Blackbeard opened an eye and rolled his head in Killian’s direction, curious what he might be missing in his supposedly drunken stupor. But it was just his nemesis talking to a monkey.

“Talking to monkeys, now? Who spiked your rum, and with what, pray tell?”

Mandible laid the knife aside and began applying leaves to the new wounds, which were now burning with a fire disproportionate to their size. “The extract must be administered through uncontaminated incisions.”

“Naturally.” The two hook-pluckers had resumed their task, and Killian sighed, his discomfort causing a vindictive urge to share the misery. “You may want to consider dribbling some of your magical bubbles into Blackbeard’s filthy ears, or he won’t allow any of us a moment’s peace.”

Blackbeard was now watching the proceedings with great interest, his headache seemingly forgotten. Mandible glanced his way again, then addressed Killian’s suggestion.

“We are electing to conserve the translator potion. Just one member of the party need understand us.”

He secured the leaves with a strip of soft hide tied around Killian’s wrist, then turned his attention to the nearest embedded hook. Killian grimaced and looked away.

“They’ve appointed me as interpreter,” he growled at Blackbeard. “Should they deign to pass any information along to you, it will have to come through me.”

“Convenient,” scoffed the other pirate. Then he sneered. “Tell your monkey friends they’ve landed themselves a hell of an ugly fish.”

“They can understand you; there’s no need to--”

“Remind them, Hook, that I was the one providing their dinner,” Blackbeard interrupted, a dark look in his eye. “Regardless of who plays interpreter, they owe me the reward.”

A fishhook jerked free of Killian’s forearm, jolting pain through the ant-closed wound nearby. Killian breathed deeply for a moment, seeking patience, then affected a smug expression.

“Take a look at your present circumstances and then tell me what you think your chances of a reward may be.”

Blackbeard looked truly confused for a heartbeat, and Killian credited his lack of perception to the head injury that had kept him unconscious for so long. Upon discovering the ropes securing his limbs to the wall--separately, as even an addled Blackbeard would have noticed hands bound together--Blackbeard snarled and began to pull against the restraints.

“Oi, this is not how it’s supposed to work; if you little demons have any sense of honor, you’ll release me at once…”

Blackbeard’s tirade grew louder and more vulgar as he realized none of the monkeys were inclined to set him free. Mandible’s fur stood on end as he smoothed a leaf bandage over the latest fishhook injury.

“He will wake the clan,” he hissed. Killian let out a long-suffering sigh.

“If you have any means of knocking him out again, I won’t object.”

Blackbeard cursed at him. “You’re in league with them! I might have guessed, you treacherous bastard…”

“Bloody hell, stow the whinging, mate! You’re worse than a spoiled toddler!”

“You would know.”

Killian was too damn tired to take the bait. And the last time he’d been defensive about his daughter hadn’t exactly ended well. “Look, you aren’t providing much incentive right now for them to keep you alive. Stop fighting, stay quiet, and they’ll be more willing to negotiate.”

Blackbeard sneered but dialed back the intensity of his struggles. After a moment of blessedly quiet rumination, he turned a haughty glare on Mandible.

“Prove to me this old coot hasn’t lost his marbles to the witch’s tower. Next fishhook you pluck out of him, instead of tossing it into the bowl, you place it in the dirt, barb pointing at the tips of my toes. That will mean a chance at parley, with no interference with fish guts over here. Savvy?”

The healer was already in the process of removing another hook. When it had slid free of Killian’s arm, the monkey very deliberately took a single leap in Blackbeard’s direction and arranged the bloodstained metal as instructed. Blackbeard’s eyebrows rose marginally, as if some part of him had truly believed Killian had been spinning yarns this whole time. But he settled back and did his best to look dignified.

“It’s a deal, then, monkey. You’ve bought my cooperation, for now. But be warned: they don’t call me the most fearsome pirate on the Seven Seas for no reason.”

#ouat fanfiction #laden of the torn #wish hook #ouat blackbeard #fishhook removal #leaf bandages #cuts #pain #healer monkeys

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jacquelinemerritt · 1 year

Text

Star Wars: Exploring the Canon - The Clone Wars Saga Part 1

Originally posted January 4th, 2017

In which we look at the first half of the canonical works set in the Clone Wars: the theatrical film, and the first three seasons of the TV show.

This review is part of a series of pieces on the entirety of the Star Wars canon. See them all here!

To preface this article, I want to try and point out the absurdity of following an article written about two films and a comic mini-series with an article written about six seasons of television, a comic mini-series, and a full-length novel. If you’re wondering why it has taken so long for me to get this part written, here’s your answer: there is just so much to write about that even after watching The Clone Wars all the way through, I wasn’t sure of where to start. We’re going to break this down by season though, starting by analyzing the first film and then tackling the show season by season until we reach the third. As for seasons 4-6, the comic, and the novel, expect me to cover them in my next installment.

Star Wars: The Clone Wars

When I first saw the theatrically released Star Wars: The Clone Wars, I was incredibly dismayed. I thought it was a disgrace to have a Star Wars film released in theaters when that film told such a gutless story, took no risks, and had next to no consequence within the story’s universe. To be perfectly frank, I think all of that is still pretty true. The film tells the story of Anakin and his new apprentice, Ahsoka Tano, being called away from a battle on the world Christophsis in order to rescue the son of Jabba the Hutt (yes, you read that right, Jabba has a fucking kid), and it quickly devolves into four seemingly separate “episodes” that never actually feel like a full story but technically are all connected. The ridiculousness of this plot combined with a bad sense of humor brings it down, and there is no way this film deserves to be a part of the theatrical Star Wars canon.

But, just because the film fails as a theatrically released Star Wars film doesn’t mean that it fails on other terms. See, this “film” isn’t really a film, but rather a bafflingly marketed and constructed television pilot that combines four episodes meant to introduce the characters of The Clone Wars TV show and set up the lighthearted tone the show holds onto for its first season. In that respect, Clone Wars actually works. Each of the four set-pieces of the pilot all accomplish different things: the first set-piece on Christophsis establishes Anakin and Obi-Wan’s relationship as it will play out for the rest of the show and introduces Ahsoka Tano, surprisingly selling Anakin taking her on as an apprentice pretty well; the second section introduces the clone army as actual characters, rather a faceless proxy army, Captain Rex, and Asajj Ventress while letting us see Anakin’s first attempts at being a teacher; the third set-piece introduces Padme Amidala and the political and underworld arenas of Coruscant she’ll reside in; and the fourth set-piece introduces Count Dooku as he will be presented throughout the entire series, allowing Christopher Lee to transition him from an adversarial mastermind into an over-the-top campy villain.

Don’t get me wrong. As far as TV pilots go, it’s a little underwhelming and not the most interesting thing you’ll ever see (even if you’re grading it on a curve for being the pilot of an animated kids’ show). But it works a damn sight better as a TV pilot than it ever could as a feature film, and had it aired as a two-hour special on Cartoon Network like was originally planned, it would not have gotten nearly the level of backlash it did from fans and critics like me who found it intensely underwhelming.

That’s really it. There isn’t much to talk about with this film. It has a consistently annoying tone, no real thematic tissue holding things together, and the performances by most of the actors are fairly underwhelming. The only standouts on display are Christopher Lee, reprising his role as Count Dooku for the final time (I know it’s been said, but this guy seriously never gave a bad performance in his career), Samuel L. Jackson, reprising his role as Mace Windu (you could make the same argument with this guy too), and Matthew Wood, who voices the battle droids in this film. Now, let’s be real, the decision to make the battle droids constant comedic cannon fodder is dumb, but Matthew Wood sells it like a pro, imbuing the droids with a level of personality that makes their poorly written attempts at comedy come off as charming, and when the writing of these jokes improves across the series, Wood is right there ready to use that material to make the droids pretty funny at times.

Star Wars: The Clone Wars (Season 1)

This is probably the best time to point out that Star Wars: The Clone Wars is really weird to watch because for some unfathomable reason it was aired, written, and produced out of chronological order. This makes viewing it chronologically on Netflix a pain, because you have to bounce around a whole lot just to see the first three seasons in their proper order, and as a result you see glimpses of the improvements in writing and storytelling from the later seasons but are still forced to sit through the slog of the first season that’s only interested in telling safe, episodic stories that don’t challenge the characters or the audience in any significant way. For what it’s worth, it’s still probably the best order to view the series in, as it paints a much more complete picture of the Clone Wars itself, but I found myself annoyed with the logic of airing and producing the episodes out of order, regardless of whether I watched it in the order it aired or the chronological order.

This strange ordering of episodes also isn’t helped by the fact that it pushes the series premiere episode, which is a genuine delight, to being seen after about five episodes and the feature film pilot. It is definitely a better introduction to the goals and aims of the writers than the feature film ever was.

The premiere episode of The Clone Wars follows Yoda on a diplomatic mission to persuade the king of the Toydarians to join the Republic. The episode’s main conflict arrives when Yoda’s vessel is attacked by a Separatist warship and he must land on the surface with only three clones by his side. Meanwhile, Count Dooku and Asajj Ventress are attempting to lure the king of Toydaria into joining the Separatists by proving to him that the Separatists are more capable of protecting him and his people than the Jedi and the Republic. Ventress challenges Yoda to make it to their location by nightfall, and Yoda accepts, battling an army of droids with the help of those clones in order to reach the king.

This is a fairly basic premise with clearly defined stakes and characters, and in the hands of George Lucas, it probably would have turned into twenty minutes of Yoda engaging in meaningless conflict where he doesn’t run into any significant challenges. In the hands of Dave Filoni’s team, however, this episode becomes a chance to reclaim the character of Yoda as he was presented in the original trilogy, and it’s truly amazing to see this Yoda again. Unlike in the entirety of the prequel trilogy, the Yoda we get to see is not the introspective mopey Yoda, but the silly, unpredictable guru that pranks Luke in order to test and teach him. Yoda’s students in this episode are the clones that travel with him, and he asserts to them that they are not the same faceless drones that Lucas intended, but unique individuals with differing skills and internal lives. Filoni’s team even has the wisdom to play Yoda’s strange behavior and unpredictability directly into fight scenes, as he outthinks droids with ease and uses risky strategies to play the droids’ advantage in numbers against themselves. By letting us see Yoda the incorrigible trickster again, The Clone Wars lets us know that it cares about recapturing the wonder and magic of the original trilogy, and that makes this first episode an incredible introduction to the show.

This episode also makes clear another one of Filoni’s goals, albeit in a much subtler manner. As I mentioned last time, the Toydarians as they are presented in The Phantom Menace are a harmful racial caricature of Jewish people, and that racism makes parts of The Phantom Menace pretty difficult to watch. This episode, however, hints at the way the Toydarians will be treated throughout the rest of the show. It shows the Toydarians as a peace-loving people that draw on a cultural heritage with an uncanny resemblance to ancient Judaism. This comes through far less in this episode than it does in later episodes, but throughout the show, the Toydarain people are essentially the equivalent of the Kingdom of Israel under the rule of King Solomon. They are incredibly wealthy and influential, they have a rich, long-standing culture, and they are ruled by a wise King who ultimately desires nothing but peace. I will admit that my connection with my Jewish heritage is a bit weak, so I am not the best person to judge whether this is still hurtful, but it seems to me that by keeping the Toydarian connection to Judaism and replacing racial caricature with a connection to a great cultural heritage, Filoni’s team effectively reclaims the Toydarians. This isn’t to say that their work makes the racism of the first film any less hurtful–far from it–but it adds a dimension to this alien race that, in my eyes, makes them far less hurtful to be associated with.1

Most of the rest of the first season doesn’t quite hit the heights this episode does, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t solid episodes throughout. Some standouts are “Rookies,” which introduces us to the character Fives as he and other newly deployed squadmates fend off a commando droid attack; “Lair of Grievous,” which is twenty minutes of General Grievous kicking serious ass when Dooku betrays him and sets a trap for him in his own home; “Dooku Captured,” where we first meet the pirate scoundrel rapscallion Hondo Ohnaka (voiced by the ever perfect Jim Cummings) after he captures Count Dooku; “Trespass,” which introduces us to the Talz people and sets up an interesting conflict between an authoritarian military society and a young woman who believes in the power of diplomacy; and “Hostage Crisis,” wherein a group of bounty hunters hold a group of Senators and Anakin hostage in order to break Ziro the Hutt out of prison.

There are two episodes in Season 1 that manage to be as strong if not stronger than the premiere and those episodes are “Jedi Crash” and “Defenders of Peace.” These episodes contain some downright excellent storytelling. They challenge Ahsoka by making her face the potential death of her master, forcing her to come to terms with the Jedi Code’s requirement to remain unattached, and they then quickly challenge the entirety of the Jedi order. We meet the Lurmen, a pacifist group of monkey-like creatures that culturally resemble aboriginal and African tribes, and they explain to the Jedi that their role in the Clone Wars has spread more pain and suffering across the galaxy than it has relieved. Their chief even points out the hypocrisy of the Jedi espousing a philosophy of peace while taking on a role as military generals! The episode moves from that point to challenge the Lurmen chief, as he must accept that pure pacifism isn’t an adequate philosophy when their village is attacked by Separatist forces testing out an experimental weapon, and the younger generation has to stand up and fight so the older generation’s insistence on absolute pacifism doesn’t get them all killed.

It’s seriously really good. And George Takei is in it too. Go watch it now even if you’ve already seen it. I promise you’ll thank me afterwards.

What’s wrong with the rest of the season then? Well, nothing really major. It’s passable kids’ television, but most of the episodes I haven’t mentioned by name don’t offer any challenges at all. The closest we get are in the episodes set on Ryloth, wherein a revolutionary insurgent is forced to work with a Senator he believes is corrupt and uncaring (who on the reverse believes the insurgent to be power hungry and after control of the planet), but these two characters aren’t given enough screentime beforehand for this to be meaningful to us. The other episodes are even worse, with the episodes surrounding the Separatist battleship Malevolence being solely concerned with sending the characters on MacGuffin quests and having them triumph due to Anakin being a better military strategist than Grievous. It’s fine, and well-constructed I guess, but it’s honestly pretty boring and uninteresting, and the next time I watch this show, I imagine I’ll be skipping past most of these episodes.

Star Wars: The Clone Wars (Season 2)

The second season of Clone Wars is about as solid a season of television as I can possibly imagine.

To be clear, it’s not the greatest season of television I have ever seen. But damn is it good. Pretty much every single episode in this season either challenges the characters personally, raises the stakes for conflict in the universe, or calls the morality of the Republic and Jedi Order into question. It starts off with “Holocron Heist,” in which badass bounty hunter Cad Bane breaks into the Jedi Temple and steals a holocron for Darth Sidious in order to kidnap Force-sensitive children across the galaxy. And then there’s “The Deserter,” where Captain Rex meets a clone trooper who went AWOL and established a family on an unoccupied planet, “The Mandalore Plot,” which has Mandalorians being awesome and Obi-Wan being a massive flirt, “Cat and Mouse,” which has Anakin piloting a stealth fighter against a Separatist general who is literally the only person who knows how to fight against those…

If I wanted to, I could spend a lot of time writing about each and every episode and their strengths, but that would take way too long, so you’re just going to have to trust me when I say that the entire season is solid as hell. Instead, we’re going to take a look at two standout story arcs that take place over multiple episodes in Season 2 and dissect them in detail to look at why they work as well as they do.

The first arc we’re going to look at are the episodes that follow Anakin, Ahsoka, Obi-Wan, Barriss, and Luminara as they lead Republic forces in the Second Battle of Geonosis in order to destroy a droid factory that has been recaptured by Separatist forces. Our heroes arrive with a massive Republic force, but the Separatists have them outnumbered even still. Their plan doesn’t survive first contact with the enemy, and Anakin and Ahsoka are forced to fight their way through immense odds just to get to their original landing point. After they are reunited, Anakin and Luminara work together to serve as a distraction while Ahsoka and Barriss sneak into the droid factory in order to plant explosive charges and stop the production of endless reinforcement for the Separatists.

What makes “Landing at Point Break” and “Weapons Factory” special isn’t really their plot. The mission our heroes are on isn’t particularly complicated, nor is it even that novel of a story idea (especially considering that we’ve already seen a pretty boring Battle of Geonosis in Attack of the Clones). These episodes are special because they completely shatter the perception of the Jedi as genuinely unstoppable warriors that dominates the prequel trilogy and most of the episodes of this show. Anakin and Ahsoka’s fight to reach Obi-Wan is desperate, and while at no point do they stop being powerful warriors, they are quickly forced to turn to clever tactics and their wits in order to get past the Separatist forces that would block them from their goal.

That same desperation is present in Ahsoka and Barriss’s quest to infiltrate the droid factory. They’re forced to sneak through behind enemy lines, going through a hornet’s nest where any wrong move will get them caught and lead to their failure. And you know what the writers decide to do? They have Ahsoka and Barriss make one mistake, wake one Geonosian, and when that Geonosian catches up to them, their mission is nearly brought to complete failure and they are forced to bunker down in a droid assault tank in order to both set off their own explosion and have a chance at survival. They are then stuck underneath a mountain of rubble and debris with little oxygen, and Ahsoka only barely manages to send out a signal to Anakin using her communicator, letting him know they’re still alive and leading him to continue the search until they’re rescued. These episodes are tense and filled with danger, and I find it genuinely impressive that Filoni’s team was able to get such great mileage out of a story that so easily could have turned into a retread of the battle from Attack of the Clones.

The next two episodes we’re going to look at are “The Zillo Beast” and “The Zillo Beast Strikes Back,” which besides being regrettably named, are filled with some of the most interesting and challenging material in this series. These episodes follow Anakin and Mace Windu, whose use of an electro-proton bomb on the planer Malastare causes an ancient beast to awaken in a clear nod to the Godzilla film franchise. This beast is genuinely fearsome, as its scales are strong enough to resist even a lightsaber, but Mace Windu and Anakin argue against Malastare’s leaders, who want to kill the Zillo, as to do so would be to take the innocent life of a creature that is the last of its kind. Anakin is eventually able to argue that the creature’s impervious scales would be useful for military research, so he and Mace Windu devise a plan to stun the beast and take it back to Coruscant, in order to trick the Malastare leaders into believing it is dead. When the Zillo arrives on Coruscant however, Palpatine quickly pushes to kill the beast using Malastare fuel, which the creature is weak to, and when his scientists fail to administer a lethal dose, the Zillo breaks free and wreaks havoc on the streets of Coruscant in a number of clear nods to Godzilla and King Kong. Eventually, the Jedi are able to kill the beast by hitting it with a lethal dose of fuel, and despite the lives they managed to save, all of the Jedi deeply regret the loss of the Zillo beast’s life.

The nods to Godzilla and King Kong are some of the coolest things about these episodes, but beyond that, these episodes have some pretty challenging thematic content. For one, this is the first time we get to see the Jedi Order faced with a legitimate moral dilemma, as for a lot of reasons, killing the Zillo is pretty defensible, but it still goes in direct violation of their Code. They decide against killing the Zillo, but because of their use of deception and pragmatist arguments, the Zillo ends up being put in a place where it will have even more power to do harm, close to a person who wants it to harm people so it can be put down rather than kept alive. In a lot of ways, Anakin and Mace Windu’s decision to bring the beast back to Coruscant is reckless and misguided, and we are shown just how blind the Jedi are to the dark forces that surround them on their homeworld. It is this blindness that leads them to do the very thing they sought to avoid: taking the life of an innocent creature that is likely the last of its kind. The shadows of the Dark Side are everywhere, and when the Jedi are too blind to see their own mistakes, innocents like the Zillo end up suffering more than the Jedi ever will.

Star Wars: The Clone Wars (Season 3)

This is where it starts to get incredible.

Like, really fucking incredible beyond anyone’s wildest expectations.

Season 3 of The Clone Wars does more to expand the mythology of the Star Wars Universe than George Lucas has done since the release of Return of the Jedi.

I hear what you’re saying. “Jacqueline, how can you possibly make that claim? Lucas made three prequel films after Jedi that included important details on the world of Star Wars, the Republic, and Jedi Order that it’s impossible for a single season of television to outdo that.” Lucas did a lot after Jedi, and I am not trying to deny him or his importance to this universe. George Lucas, however, was entirely wrapped up in his goal of telling a story about a fascist government’s rise to power, and in focusing on those political details, he lost sight of the wonder and mystique that makes the Star Wars Universe as compelling as it is. Dave Filoni and his team, however, do everything they can to further Lucas’s message in the prequel trilogy, and they do that without losing sight of the fascinating mysticism surrounding the Force, the prophecy of the chosen one, and the tug and pull of balance between light and darkness that defines the universe.

Now, there legitimately isn’t a bad episode in this season, but like last time, two arcs told over multiple episodes rise to the top and that’s what we’re going to focus on.

The first arc that does this is the Nightsisters arc, which follows Asajj Ventress after she is betrayed by Count Dooku and left for dead. She manages to survive her ship being fired upon by another Separatist warship, and she returns to her home planet to the witches of Dathomir in order to find her heritage and get help in her quest for revenge against her former master. She and the seemingly invincible witch Mother Talzin first target Dooku directly, sending Ventress and two Nightsisters in with cloaking magic and a poison designed to weaken Dooku and make him easy to kill. Dooku is still a force to be reckoned with, however, and he dispatches Ventress and her sisters without significant difficulty. Ventress and Talzin then hatch a more sinister plan, testing the males on the far side of Dathomir until they find one who is worthy and take control of his mind so he can be planted as a traitor in Dooku’s ranks. When Dooku takes this man, named Savage Oppress,1 under his wing and trains him as an apprentice, Ventress sneaks into Dooku’s vessel and makes Savage turn on his new master. Her plan fails, however, and Savage quickly regains control of his mind and turns on the both of them, escaping back to Dathomir and seeking guidance from Mother Talzin, who tells him of a “brother” he must seek while showing him a vision of the Sith Lord Darth Maul, a Zabrak and Dathomir Nightbrother just like him.

We’ll talk about Maul next time, when we actually get to see him in action, but suffice it to say, closing out a set of episodes that explores the dark mysticism of the Star Wars Universe by promising the return of one of Star Wars’ most badass villains is a pretty risky decision, as is the depth of exploration of the Dark Side that we get to see here. The Nightsisters are absolutely fascinating on their own as a less-than-savory mystical underbelly that neither identifies as Jedi or Sith, and Mother Talzin is an imposing figure who, if she did not prefer to keep to herself and her coven, would be a far greater threat to the galaxy than the Sith could ever dream of being.

Of course, the main attraction of these episodes is that they finally put Asajj Ventress to use as the complex character she was always meant to be. Ever since I was a little girl watching Genndy Tartakovsky’s Clone Wars animated mini-series, I’ve been obsessed with this character. She has such a rich and tragic backstory, and as a young girl with her own demons boiling up under the surface, Ventress appealed to me with her mastery of the Dark Side, dual lightsabers, and dominatrix-like attitude (which is turned up to a ten in The Clone Wars, as she is referred to as Mistress by everyone around her). Up until Season 3 though, The Clone Wars didn’t really put her to good use. Sure, she was an assassin, and she had those dual lightsabers, but in this show she has been far less of a pure, unadulterated badass, as she’s the villain and the heroes have to beat her.

These episodes turn that on its head perfectly. Dooku’s betrayal of her makes sense, in only the way an abuser’s decision to abuse can; she has consistently failed to achieve victory against the Jedi after all, and as we see her backstory unfold over a few short flashbacks, watching her being taken from her family as a child and witnessing the murder of the Jedi who taught her how to use the Force, Dooku’s betrayal becomes an opportunity for her to finally exert some agency over all of the horrible things that have happened to her. She will have revenge against Dooku, because damnit, this is the first time she’s ever been powerful enough to strike back against the people who have hurt her the most. It becomes even more heart-wrenching to watch as any knowledge of the prequel trilogy’s storyline lets us know that she is doomed to fail in her quest for revenge, as Dooku survives until Revenge of the Sith to be killed by Anakin Skywalker. Despite having the power to strike back against her master with “dark magicks” and a monstrous warrior, she still ends up without enough power to take any emotional closure for herself through revenge.

The second arc of note in this season is the arc set on the planet Mortis, following Anakin, Ahsoka, and Obi-Wan as an ancient distress signal calls them to an incredibly strange planet.

But I’m not going into detail on those episodes.

They are amazing. Make no mistake.

But I would not dare spoil the details of what happens in them to anyone who hasn’t seen them.

Trust me, just take my word on this, and go on Netflix, to Season 3 of Star Wars: The Clone Wars, and watch “Overlords,” “Altar of Mortis,” and “Ghosts of Mortis” right now. If you don’t watch anything else from this show (and seriously, you should, it’s great), then still watch these episodes. You don’t even need that much context to enjoy them, because as long as you accept that Anakin has an apprentice named Ahsoka, literally anything else you could need to know follows logically from Anakin and Obi-Wan’s characterizations in the prequel films. You have my word, a Jacqueline Merritt guarantee, that you won’t regret the time you spend checking these episodes out.

Next time, hopefully not two months from now, we’ll explore the rest of The Clone Wars, the comic Darth Maul: Son of Dathomir, and the novel Dark Disciple. See you then!

Critical Eye Criticism is the work of Jacqueline Merritt, a trans woman, filmmaker, and critic. You can support her continued film criticism addiction on Patreon.

1Any of my Jewish readers who disagree with my belief that the Toydarian’s are less hurtful because of their characterization in The Clone Wars are more than welcome to challenge me on that, as I am open to hearing any criticism of my argument here.

2I could also go into more detail on the character of Savage Oppress and how he is actually quite fascinating despite having an absolutely terrible name, but exploring his character is best left for our exploration of Darth Maul in the later seasons, as their arcs are fairly closely intertwined.

#star wars #star wars the clone wars #the clone wars #tcw #ahsoka tano #anakin skywalker #obi-wan kenobi #master toda #count dooku #christopher lee #george takei #ashley eckstein #star wars canon #skip this one too #i am posting it primarily because i want it to be up here #but again #if you want good discussion/analysis of clone wars #listen to A More Civilized Age

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