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blxetsi · 3 years

Note

I was curious if you’d be up for headcanon of adopting Gabi Braun, or what it’s like being her older sibling?

If not maybe just Pieck relationship headcanons

Please and thank you

im so sorry im getting to this so late 😭🤚 ty for requesting ‼️

‼️CONTENT WARNING: SPOILERS FOR SEASON 4 AND CHAPTER 139‼️

adopting gabi braun headcanons (canonverse)

characters: gf!sasha braus x gn!reader, platonic!gabi braun x gn!reader, fatherly!levi ackerman x gn!reader, platonic!falco grice x gn!reader

warnings: death, angst, hatred for kids (fuck them kids‼️), peepaw levi 😁👍

- uhhhhhh,, your relationship w gabi had a very rocky start. Lol !

- it all started when your friend eren jaeger decided to run away to infiltrate marley causing the survey corps to go get him just as a war was declared between your countries, and then two kids snuck onto the airship you were using to escape and shot your girlfriend. and she died. Lol !

- you had a lot of hatred for gabi in the beginning, and it was understandable

- you blamed her for shooting sasha, but you also blamed yourself for not being able to save her.

- you were a trained medic, you were supposed to save people, and yet you couldnt even save the woman you loved. it was like a slap in the face, like god was playing some cruel joke on you

- you remember sitting against the wall with sasha's blood staining your hands. you could barely process what happened at the time, and then levi came

- he sat next to you, taking a handkerchief out of nowhere seemingly, and just wordlessly wiped your hands down.

- your relationship with the older man was never defined, even today, but you both cared for each other

- the next time you saw gabi, was in that restaurant, niccolo had attacked gabi and falco, injuring them both, and said she killed sasha

- your blood went cold, you felt so many things, the grief you had pushed down in favour of your job, anger, fear, among other things

- niccolo had said there needed to be justice, he said that gabi should die for what she did, he tried to get sasha's father to kill her, and all you did was stand there.

- your body went on autopilot, barely listening to mr. braus' speech, you watched as kaya pointed a knife at gabi, and you listened to her wails of agony as you blindly led mikasa, armin, and gabi to a different room

- you were scared of yourself, for what you were thinking. did you really want a kid to die ? she did kill your girlfriend, the woman you wanted to spend the rest of your life with, the woman that shared her food with you, the woman that held you when you got scared at night, the woman that promised you that after the war you two would live on a farm together, and have a family of your own.

- but she was still a child. she didnt know any better. you were conflicted in your feelings, especially after hearing what niccolo had said, but it all just emphasized what was already known to you. she was a child

- your blood was pounding in your ears, and you could faintly hear gabi asking your comrades if they wanted to kill her. when armin reassured her they didnt, she looked to you and asked "what about them ?"

- you didnt answer her, and continued to lead them down where eren would be meeting you all. you were supposed to drop them off, but eren made you stay, and then a fight broke out

- you dont remember when you did it, but you held gabi in your arms, shielding her from the fight. you think you needed to be held more than she did

- things got more complicated after that, and slowly the hatred you had for sasha's killer went away, until all you had left was a hole in your chest from guilt and sadness.

- at fort salta, you thought you were going to die there, next to your friends. you thought you'd become a mindless titan, like connie's family

- but you didnt, well you did, but only for a short time, and when you turned back, you reunited with your friends

- looking around for gabi, you saw her tackle falco into a hug, which made you smile

- "y/n !" jean called, you remember looking behind you in confusion, he sounded distressed, but you understood why when you saw sasha saluting the three of you

- you felt your legs move on your own, and you ran closer to her, before stopping about a meter away. she was dead, you knew she was dead, but she was there, wearing that goofy smile on her face and looking at you as if you'd hung the stars in the sky

- she looked at you. "you did good." hearing her voice felt like a dream. your mouth felt dry, and your jaw opened and closed like a fish before you felt tears sting your eyes. "i love you."

- she nodded, before looking at the sky. "i know." she replied. sasha looked back at you before giving you a soft smile. "you know what to do now." before she disappeared in the debris

- you knew what to do, so you did it

- you found levi sitting against a rock, and when you leaned down next to him he muttered something. "i saw erwin again. and hange. all of them." you nodded. "i saw sasha." he looked at you, and gave you the closest thing to a smile. "i guess we're both at peace now."

*****

- three years later, you've become a school teacher in paradis, teaching young children how to read, to write, and basic math. you teach them about art and music, and nature. its nice being surrounded by children all day, kids are lovely.

- you live with gabi, falco and levi, in a small house inside wall sina. levi's legs have gotten weaker with time, causing him to use a wheelchair and crutches. he's given up on his dream of a tea shop, but is content with the life he has now.

- gabi and falco have gotten more rowdy with age, but they've both matured quite a bit. they make you proud

- you send letters to sasha's family. kaya is growing up, and has taken over archery just like her sister. niccolo is living with them now.

- you'll never be able to let go of sasha, or what happened to her, but the pain in your chest has dulled immensely. you think about her sometimes, when youre in bed alone, wanting to feel the warmth of her body in your arms, you know you should move on, you get teased about not having a new girlfriend, even levi has made comments about there being "plenty of fish in the sea"

it was a late night, on a friday. you were grading spelling tests at the dining room table, one lone candle being your source of light. your pen moves swiftly across the different pieces of paper, adding check marks or x marks when needed, adding a note at the bottom of each test, before adding a smiley face on all of your students' hard work. it was tedious, but it needed to be done, and you had to remember to bring them in on monday, you couldn't forget like last time.

you heard footsteps coming down the stairs. they were soft, and slow, and at first you thought it was levi but realized it couldn't be since you couldn't hear the soft tapping of his crutches on the stairs. they came down to the bottom and stood there, it was gabi, dressed in a light pink nightgown that came down to her knees, and her disheveled hair in the braid you did for her before bed.

you pushed your reading glasses to the top of your head. "what are you doing up ? it's late."

she shrugged, and walked over to sit across from you at the table. gabi grabbed the stack of papers that you already graded and shuffled through them, giggling when she found a misspelling.

you rolled her eyes. "don't laugh, they're six."

she shook her head. "i was spelling ten times better than this when i was their age."

"uh huh."

"are you calling my bluff ?"

you chuckled. "maybe. you should be in bed though."

"why ? it's not like we have school tomorrow."

you shrugged. "i was thinking we could go on a picnic outside the walls. it gets stuffy in here."

she nodded. "that would be fun."

the silence came back for a while, until you finished grading and set your papers aside.

"you know, i hear you sometimes." she whispered.

you looked at the brunette in confusion. "how do you mean ?"

"when your in bed, sometimes you cry."

you scoffed, and leaned back in your chair. "yeah well, i try to muffle it."

"i don't think ive ever apologized to you," she started. her eyes welled up with tears and her hands shook on the table. her cheeks and nose became pink as she held herself back from crying. "i know i feel bad, and i regret killing her but, i've never actually apologized to you for-"

"don't." you said. you kept your eyes on your lap, you felt your throat growing tight. "please gabi, don't say anything."

"i need to apologize-"

"you don't. you killed her. she's dead, the war is over. it's done. just let it go." you said, your voice wavering.

"have you let it go ?"

your head shot up to her. "i lost the woman i was going to spend the rest of my life with. she promised me a safe home, a farm, and a family. and she promised we'd grow old together. and that didn't happen. i grew up with her, i've known her since i was twelve, we started dating when i was sixteen. of course i haven't let it go, gabi."

gabi looked shocked by your outburst, but nodded. she understood how you felt, and she felt so guilty. "you don't forgive me do you ? i get it, i really do. i'm sorry."

you shook your head. "gabi no, i do. i do forgive you. i just, i can't forget it." you whimpered, tears started streaming down your face and you choked back a sob. "i loved her with all of my heart, i still do, but i don't hate you-"

gabi rolled her eyes, tears coming out uncontrollably now. "you should. i killed her, i ruined your chance of a happy life ! she was your family and i-"

"gabi no !" you exclaimed, cutting her off. at this point you both looked like a mess, and you were worried you woke up the boys. you grabbed her shaking hands in your own and held them to you. "you are my family. you are. so is falco, and so is levi. i forgive you, and i love you with all of my heart." you said, a sad smile on your face. her eyes widened at your words, before she started sobbing.

you got up from the table to come to her side, and held her in your arms as she cried. her arms wrapped around your shoulders while she dug her head into your neck, tickling you with her hair.

you rubbed her back and cradled her head while shushing her. she sobbed out a muffled "i love you so much y/n." that you chuckled at.

"i love you too so much." you whispered back.

it took a long time for gabi to calm down, but when she did you still held her, rocking her and yourself back and forth slightly. you two moved from the chairs down to the floor, funny enough.

you kissed the top of her head before talking, the only noise in the room being your whispers, her sniffles and the living room clock. "you know reiner's coming home soon. are you excited ?" she nodded against your skin and sniffled again, clearing her throat too.

"i hope he brings me a gift or something." she whispered back, her voice hoarse. it made you laugh, and you had to cover your mouth to keep quiet.

"they're going to shiganshina district for a couple of days, to visit mikasa and eren, and then mikasa will come with them to the capital."

"do you miss her ?" she asked.

"so much. i miss all of them, but mikasa is a close friend of mine, she holds a special place in my heart."

"do you think you and levi will go to the meetings between the marley ambassadors and the jaegerists ?" she asked.

"maybe, if they feel as though they really need us."

you sighed through your nose, which was a bit stuffy from crying. "after we turned back into humans, i saw sasha again."

gabi lifted her head up from where it was resting on your shoulder. "what ?"

"yeah, i saw her ghost i think." you looked down on her with a smile on your face. "she told me i knew what i needed to do, and then i went and got levi and you and falco." you paused for a moment, thinking about how you would word what you were thinking. "i did what i needed to do, i got my family together." gabi's eyes widened. "sasha promised me a family, and although this wasn't the family i had envisioned, it's still a family nonetheless. i believe her last gift to me was you, falco, and levi. and i am so grateful to have you all in my life."

gabi smiled before hugging you. she opened her mouth to say something-

"oi !" a deep voice came from the top of the stairs. "you two woke me up with all of your crying. go to bed." before your heard the creaking of the floorboards and the closing of a door.

you chuckled before standing up, pulling gabi with you. you walked her to her room, and even tucked her in, you both exchanged 'i love yous' and 'goodnights' before you retreated from her bedroom, closing the door behind you.

across the hall, levi stood leaned on his doorway with his arms crossed together. "that family speech, that was cute." he commented. you rolled your eyes at the older man. "were you listening in on a private conversation ?" you teased.

the ex-captain scoffed and looked away. "go to bed y/n. we have a picnic to go on tomorrow." before closing his door.

you chuckled to yourself, remembering how you brought up the idea to him that morning, and he only replied with a curt "we'll see" before sipping on his morning tea.

you went back to your own room, and got into your bed. you turned on your side, and looked at the space you always left open for sasha, and brushed your hand against the pillow.

"goodnight love."

uhhhhh doesnt feel like my best work but whatevs 😁👍 enjoy my comeback to tumblr 🤩🙏

requests open mfs ‼️

#attack on titan #attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan x reader #erwin smith #hange zoe #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi x gn!reader #sasha braus #sasha blouse #sasha braus x reader #sasha blouse x reader #niccolo aot #falco grice #gabi braun #gabi x falco #chapter 139

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nevertheless-moving · 3 years

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Suicidal Misunderstanding XI

Part I - - - - - Part II - - - - - Part III - - - - - Part IV - - - - - Part V - - - - - Part VI - - - - - Part VII - - - - - Part VIII - - - - - Part IX - - - - - Part X

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

Anakin left his first ‘soul healing’ appointment feeling on edge. They hadn’t even discussed anything important! The healer mostly talked at him, giving him rules for future sessions. They had barely touched on the reason he was there, which was both a relief and slightly irritating. ...He was a little uncertain what to do with him time now.

Obi-Wan hadn’t responded to him at all during his visit that morning, laying motionless in an apparently self-induced coma, and he wasn’t allowed to sit with him again until the evening. He wasn’t allowed to look at anything to do with the war until Mace cleared him. Returning to his and Obi-Wan’s quarter’s was still unthinkable, even though he knew he’d have to go back at some point before Ashoka landed on planet.

The Chancellor had left him several messages inviting him for a visit, but he was dragging his feet, despite the serious temptation of an always comforting father-figure. The thought of actually seeing the man made him feel practically sick with anger and betrayal. Obi-Wan had been convinced that Palpatine was trying to tear them apart. And while Anakin didn’t quite believe that... he had told Obi-Wan about what he had done after his mother’s death. Maybe someday, when Obi-Wan was better, he would be able to believe it was all for the best, but for now...he was just angry.

He hadn’t really been angry at the man before, and didn’t enjoy the sensation.

Padme had told him she would be working from home as much as possible the next few days. While he didn’t want to be an annoyance, there wasn’t really anyone else he could turn to for advice or comfort right now, and she seemed almost as desperate for the reassurance of his company as he was of hers...and the Master of the Order seemed to at least tolerate their relationship, even if he didn’t know all the details.

He arrived at her apartment and promptly collapsed on the couch.

“Is it alright if I join you?” Padme asked softly.

Anakin smiled at her. “More than alright”

She sat down. He shifted so she could lean against him comfortably.

“Do you want to talk right now, or should I do some paperwork?” she asked neutrally.

He groaned. “It’s- I’m not sure if I’m being immature. Should I go see Palpatine?”

She stiffened. “The Chancellor? I- I thought we had specifically agreed not to talk about him if we could help it. Have his politics started to bother you?” she asked dryly.

He rolled his eyes. “No, I still believe he’s the best chance for ending the war quickly- you know my friendship with him is personal, not political.”

“This is a personal problem then. Does it...have something to do with Obi-Wan? Are you not supposed to tell him about- what happened?”

“No, I’m sure the council’s already informed him, he is the Chancellor, after all; they would have to tell him if a High General was out of commission,” he replied, a touch bitterly.

“But it does have something to do with Obi-Wan,” she nudged.

“Yeah. It- he was the one who told Obi-Wan. About me. With the Raiders.” he ground out, suppressing a flash of anger.

“Oh. Oh! I didn’t realize he knew. He- had he urged you to tell Obi-Wan before?” she asked, slightly guilty.

“No!” Anakin snarled back. “He swore to keep it a secret, told me that my revenge was justified.”

“I’m sorry- the Chancellor of the Republic told you that what you did was justified? Padme sounded shocked and Anakin turned to her with wide eyes.

“Do you...you told me you understood...but...we’ve never really talked about it since it happened, have we?” He replied miserably.

She pulled away, heart pounding. “Anakin...do you think what you did was justified?”

He looked down “At the time I told myself it was...but I don’t know. Even right after...I thought about the kids. You have no idea how much clearer everything seems when your channeling the force with anger even though afterwards...I told myself they were animals but...I...when I was talking to Obi-Wan I realized that...I think I was just scared that if the order ever found out I’d lose everything which made me angry...And the Chancellor agreed that animals sometimes needed to be put down...and you said you understood.” He looked up at her uncertain.

She let out a sigh of relief. Of course Anakin knew his action’s were wrong, if he was so torn up about it. She took his hands in hers, stroking softly.

“Anakin...I know it’s not exactly the same, but I do understand wanting revenge. I helped personally liberate and clean up many of the trade federation camps. I buried the rotting corpses of my people, who I left to die- then returned back to my office to watch Nate Gunray get out on parole. If someone had handed me the power to kill every single Neimodian at the right moment-” She let out a breath, seething.

“But...no one did. I couldn’t have gotten revenge like that, even if I had wanted to. And now...gods Anakin, understanding why isn’t the same as saying it’s justified- I might still hate the trade federation, but that doesn’t mean that every Neimoidian is guilt of their crime, no matter my personal feelings. I really, truly don’t know what to say about the Chancellor telling you what he did, or keeping your secret, or breaking your trust.”

They sat in silence for a moment as he digested everything.

“I...think I get what you mean about separating out justifying and understanding. Maybe that’s what he meant, and I just wasn’t smart enough to realize what he was saying at the time. I want to ask him, but I’m still mad and... I just don’t want to lose my friend because I’m angry.” he finished unhappily.

She sighed, then pressed a delicate kiss to his cheek.

“Then tell him that. Leave him a message. A friend would understand holding off a conversation while you’re upset. And a politician should certainly understand holding back your feelings so they don’t dictate your actions.”

He smiled at her, “How did you get so wise?”

“I was a Queen, you know,” she replied haughtily.

“Oh a Queen, I hadn’t realized, do forgive my impertinence,” he said cheekily, pulling her closer.

She pushed him back. “Message first. He’s almost certainly in a Senate committee meeting right now, it’s the perfect time.”

He relented. They briefly hashed out what he was going to say. Then she drifted to the other room while he pulled out his mobile official senatorial comm-link, biting his lip nervously.

Much to his dismay, the Chancellor picked up on the last ring, holo opening up.

“Anakin, my boy! So good to hear from you; I had been getting worried. How are you?

Steeling himself, Anakin launched into their prepared monologue.

“Chancellor, you of all people know that I struggle with anger; I’m trying to work on not allowing it to dictate how I act towards those I value. That being said, in the interest of preserving our friendship and until Obi-Wan is fully healed, I think it’s best we avoid unnecessary communications.”

“Anakin! I don’t-” Palpatine tried to reply, but Anakin cut him off.

“Thank you again for your understanding. I will of course diligently reply to any military or professional requests sent through the proper channels.”

Anakin closed the connection with a click, heart pounding. The comm immediately lit back-up.

“What do I do?” he asked Padme, feeling nauseous.

Was this the right choice? Surely his friend would understand. He didn’t want to yell at the Chancellor just because he was still working through Obi-Wan’s issues and his issues with Obi-Wan! Or was he just acting out of fear? Maybe the Chancellor could help.

He started to reach for the comm, but Padme snatched it from the table first. She threw it to the ground, delicately lifted the hem of her dress, then pierced it with the heel of her shoe. It stopped mid trill.

“Let’s go to bed.”

“I love you.” He replied, looking at her adoringly.

“I know.”

Next (Part XII)

#star wars #my au #suicidal misunderstanding au #star wars au no 27 #anidala #star wars au #TALK #ABOUT #YOUR #THOUGHTS #AND #FEELINGS #YOU #KRIFFING #IDIOTS #YES #YOU TOO #PADME

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barnesandco · 3 years

Text

Little Hands (IV)

Series Masterlist

Communication is key.

This is an entry for @star-spangled-bingo 2021. Word count: 2248. Square filled: “Sung to Sleep”

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: More Hydra Evilness, More Sad Child, Parental Anxieties. Brief mentions of war, sickness, death, grief.

A/N: I know 2.2k words isn’t objectively a lot but boy did this feel like it. I hope every word is worth it and that you enjoy! Lmk what you think!!! Also I won’t even lie, the idea of Steve’s kids is 100% from one of my favorite comfort fics, family means no one gets left behind or forgotten, by the genius, the wonderful cosmicocean. IT’S SO SOFT. Pls read it.

You’re stunned when Bucky tells you what’s going on. The idea that his daughter (?) was made in a lab like some kind of experiment, and that the man who led said experiment now wants her back like she is his property, his weapon, is too horrid to consider for very long. Weaponizing an innocent child. Hydra.

Bucky gave you the broad strokes of the investigation – currently running on little more than educated guesses based on the meagre intel they have – and has let you know that he has had to recuse himself from the case, due to his… personal connection. That leaves him somewhere he finds awkward, to say the least.

It's evident in the way the corners of his lips turn down, how he is constantly rubbing the pads of his fingers against the coarse scratch of denim, while he watches Ana watch Zoya, Steve’s 17-year-old daughter, working on a tablet. Zoya tucks a strand of hair behind her hijab, then continues to draw up a storyboard, narrating the events to the younger girl. Steve had apparently forgotten the lunch his kids had made him at home, so Zoya had brought it in, and decided to stay the day.

Ana’s quiet, attentive for the most part, listening with her full capabilities, but her eyes flit away from the screen every now and then to look at you and Bucky, as if to reassure herself that you’re still there.

Besides that, there aren’t all that many distractions present for an already precocious child. Most of the team has dispersed for the investigation, with the exception of Peter, who is sat at a table in the corner making intentionally fruitless efforts at teaching Morgan chess, while she giggles and tries to stack the pieces like Jenga blocks instead.

However, Bucky’s restlessness is infectious, and you think he needs to get it under check before it grows any further. That’s why you stand, saying, “Could we go for a little walk, Bucky?”

He nods, man of few words that he is, and leads the way. You’re sure he knows that you formulated it like a request for his benefit, but he doesn’t mention it. It’s just as well – that he knows you like that, and knows when to accept the proverbial hand being offered.

Bucky takes you to a corner of the roof that you’d mistake for a community garden if you didn’t know any better. The Avengers seem to have green thumbs, or at least, a significant portion of them do. They’re good with plants, and possessive about them, too. Autumn ferns grow outside the circle they seem to have been planted in – with a sign shouting Wanda! – to invade the territory of a vegetable garden labelled Bruce (accompanied by a Hulkish, green thumbs up presumably not drawn by the man himself).

Meticulously maintained daylilies and columbines, in vivid reds and vibrant purples, litter the edges of the path that has been carved through this little paradise, and the birdhouses between them stake the claim of the owner more effectively than a neon sign screaming Sam Wilson. Bucky’s told you about his abilities, how they veer into the decidedly supernatural but Sam insists are only the residue of a childhood with homing pigeons.

Nothing here looks like Bucky’s, though. He seems to be taking it in, perhaps thinking about his own little paradise back in the city, and how he’s chosen to keep it distant from that of his teammates. That worries you. He worries you.

And this, the situation with Anastasia, becoming a father, it’s terrifying. Hell, if it scares you this much, how is he feeling? You ask him as much.

“Bucky, are you okay?”

He laughs, softly, disbelievingly, no malice in his scoff, only fear. Only the sound of a voice saturated with consternation and total, complete anxiety. “Would you be?” He asks back.

“That’s why I’m asking.”

Bucky evades the questions, turning first one way on the path, and then the other, approaching the edge clear of shrubbery and blooms alike, resting his palms on the top of the wall.

“I can’t be a father.”

The solemnity in his tone allows no room for negotiations, but then, neither do the facts. “You are,” you reply, somewhat hesitantly, because the technicalities of how Ana came to be are still a little blurry to you. She’s far from a normal child, and not quite a clone, either. She is of Bucky, though. His, in any way that counts.

“That little girl was created in a Hydra lab as a super soldier to serve the cause,” he says, shaking his head vigorously as the cause repulses him even more than it does you. “And who knows what else she was put through before SHIELD fell and Orlov got her out, and it’s my fault.”

“You didn’t—”

“I didn’t ask for it to happen but it wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t happened. They used me to make a super soldier from scratch, and now I’m supposed to raise her? It’s not that simple. I’m not Steve. I can’t…”

Being honest, you feel you’re pretty far out of your depth here. But you’ve promised him your help, and you’ll do your best.

“You don’t have to. There are other options.” You’re sure you’re overstepping. Perhaps this gentle companionship has not yet reached the point where you can give advice on parenting. But if you don’t, who will? Steve, whose answers don’t enter the gray territory Bucky’s mind is residing in right now, who parents like he was born for it?

Steve chose fatherhood. Bucky has been nailed to it like it’s a new cross to bear, heavier than all the previous ones put together.

His gaze roams the grounds that stretch as far as you can see. You’re both far away from home right now, far outside your comfort zones.

“I’m sorry for dragging you into my mess, sweetheart. It’s not right. You have things to do, and I shouldn’t have—”

“Bucky, I’ve been staring at the same four sentences of dialogue for the past month. I literally could not have been happier to get out of the house. Even if I do wish it was under better circumstances,” you say fervently. You’re here because he needs you. Because Ana needs you. It’s nice to be needed.

“That’s one way to put it,” he smiles, and you’re glad to see it.

“Not to mention, it’s not your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault except whoever your team is looking for,” you insist. “And Ana’s a sweet girl. A little quiet, but Baba says I was, too.”

This, Bucky thinks about. You wonder if he was a quiet child, too. “What’s he like?”

“Hmm?” The reverie snaps like a rubber band.

“Your father?” Bucky asks, shyly, his eyes meeting yours, letting you know exactly why he’s asking.

You look up at the clouds, think back to Boston, to time shared between the library and the park. A childhood with books, lunch breaks under a desk in an office at MIT, stealing his glasses and running away with them, rubbing at his stubbly beard like he was a housecat. Inside jokes with your father and rolled eyes with your mother. Laughter and tears, laughter with tears.

After a long while, trying and failing to summarize your father, you say, “A jokester. The most sarcastic person I know. But still kind of neurotic, to be honest. The kind of parent that makes you show up at the airport a full four hours before your flight.” It’s grossly insufficient. For a writer, you’re not very good with words. You suppose it’s not the words that are the problem; it’s the lifetime they have to encompass. “What about yours?”

Bucky sighs. “Soldier. He’s one thing I don’t feel bad for not remembering because it wasn’t Hydra that wiped those memories. He just died when I was really small. Survived the Great War only to be killed by TB a few years later at home.”

“I’m sorry.” You avert your eyes. Grief feels private, even decades later, even in the smallest doses.

He shakes his head, smiles fondly, up at the sky, too, like you did. Only, he’s smiling at it, like he’s thinking of someone beyond the clouds. “Don’t be. Was a long time ago.”

“That doesn’t mean it isn’t allowed to hurt anymore.”

“You sound like my therapist.”

“I sound like my therapist.”

At this, the two of you look at each other and burst into laughter. It feels forbidden, as though the severity of the situation condemns joy. That isn’t fair, you think. The situation is that of a child, and nobody needs laughter more than kids do. Food for the soul.

When the echo of your exhilarations falls, Bucky grows serious once more. “They have them for kids, now, too, right?” He asks, referring to therapists. “Do you think Anastasia should see one? She’s not exactly… normal, you know?”

“Maybe.” It’s a difficult question, but a good indicator of how Bucky is growing to feel about Ana. “You’d make a good dad, if you wanted to be one, Bucky,” you say, and mean it. It’s plain as day that he cares about her.

“I can’t even remember my own.”

“Parental instincts are intuitive, not genetic,” you tell him.

“You been reading handbooks?” He teases.

“You’d be surprised by how much you learn from the rabbit holes you fall down while researching books,” you deadpan.

“Can any of that research get the nightmares out of my head? I think it might scare a kid.”

The self-deprecation hurts, but your response is honest, heartfelt. “She likes you already.”

“She won’t if she thinks I’ve run away,” he answers, straightening up. He might be trying to evade the conversation, but you’ll let him, for now. He’s gotten some fresh air, had some time to clear his thoughts, or sort them, at least. And so you return, to the little girl who has a tighter grip on both of you than you even realize.

------

Ana grows unsettled as night darkens the sky. It could be the ruckus she isn’t quite used to. It could be the toy fire truck Tony has been altering with his utensils to increase its noise output, much to Morgan’s amusement. It could be the actual parrot perched on Sam’s shoulder.

Whatever the cause, she hasn’t succumbed to it enough to make a seat out of the fridge again. She’s sitting in her seat, between Bucky and yourself, eating the hummus Bruce and Wanda have made. Nat discusses sniper scopes with Clint, Peter tries to get away with eating the side of vegetables on Jordan’s plate without Steve noticing, and Bucky eats silently, eyes almost constantly on Anastasia, who takes it all in while her knee bounces up and down with an ever-increasing speed, much like her father’s.

You excuse yourselves soon after dessert, after Morgan has fallen asleep against Jordan’s arm on the couch, and Steve and Tony’s friendly debate is starting to develop the edge it tends to when they’ve been bantering for too long.

Bucky sets up on the sectional in his room, and leaves the ridiculously large double bed to you and Anastasia. It’s been a strange, strange day, and one can only hope that tomorrow brings some ease, a balm for the prickly, fiery ache that has settled over the man you care so much about.

------

When you wake, it’s because of singing. For half a moment, you think you’re in a dream, but as your eyes adjust to the blanket of dark, you see the shadow on the sofa nearby. Only, it’s bigger than just Bucky. Anastasia is sitting on his lap, her head cushioned against his chest. Scrambling for your glasses, and turning on the lamp on the bedside table, you notice that there are trails of drying tears on her little cheeks, and she’s still shaking with the aftershocks of whatever scare she must’ve had during the night.

Not for the first time, you curse your deep sleep that meant you didn’t wake with Ana, but watch in wonder as Bucky sings.

Hush, little baby, don't say a word Papa's going to buy you a mockingbird

And if that mockingbird won't sing Papa's going to buy you a diamond ring

Ana’s eyes begin to close, but she fights the sleep. Bucky doesn’t let her. He lies down, easing her down beside himself, singing all the while.

And if that diamond ring turns brass Papa's going to buy you a looking glass

And if that looking glass gets broke Papa's going to buy you a billy goat

His voice fills the room, low though it may be, and he curls himself around Ana.

And if that billy goat won't pull Papa's going to buy you a cart and bull

And if that cart and bull turn over Papa's going to buy you a dog named Rover

She succumbs to the lull of his tone, his song, his promises, sighs a little sigh, lets the last, little hiccup leave her body.

And if that dog named Rover won't bark Papa's going to buy you a horse and cart

And if that horse and cart fall down You'll still be the sweetest little baby in town

Bucky lifts his hand from where it was stroking the hair at her temple, and lays his arm over his daughter. They’re safe, for now. Together.

#SSB2021 #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #dad!bucky barnes #mcu #marvel #marvel fanfic

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scottymcgeesterwrites · 3 years

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Final Fantasy VII Review

Year: 1997

Original Platform: PlayStation One

Also available on: PC, PlayStation Store

Version I Played: PlayStation One

Synopsis:

The Shinra Electric Power Company rules over the city of Midgar, and the eco-terrorists AVALANCHE stop at nothing to try and prevent the life essence of the planet from being used as energy. Barrett, leader of AVALANCHE, hires a mercenary named Cloud Strife for their bombing mission on a Shinra Mako Reactor. Cloud doesn’t care much for the greater cause and only wants his pay. But then, after a mission goes awry, he meets Aerith, a flower girl who is the descendant of the Ancients. He quickly finds himself wrapped up in the greater conflict against Shinra.

Gameplay:

Final Fanatasy VII utilizes magic spells via Materia – little orbs that come in a variety of colors pertaining to the natural elements. You can mix and match them on your weapons and equipment, which gives you access to different spells and stats. All your equipment varies with the number of slots for how many Materia orbs you can put in. Leveling up not only upgrades the character but the equipped Materia as well.

Final Fantasy VII also uses an ATB system but is known for introducing Limit Breaks – finishing moves that build up after the character gets hit over time. Final Fantasy VI had a prototype called Desperation Attack – but it was very rare as it only appeared when your character had 1/8 of their total HP, and there was a 1 in 6 chance of performing the Desperation Attack after selecting Attack. I actually had no idea that was a thing until long after I finished the game, and never experienced it when I played Final Fantasy VI.

Graphics:

Out of all the Final Fantasy games, I have to say that this one has not aged well. It has the worst graphics of the entire series. The battle and cinematic graphics are passable.

(Most of the graphics power seemed to be put in Tifa’s, uh, bosom.)

But the characters in towns, the overworld, and in-game cutscenes are incredibly blocky. PC versions are supposedly sharper, but the PlayStation One version makes it nigh impossible to see any facial expressions.

The graphics are definitely a product of its time. I always say that the beginning of 3D gaming was essentially like puberty – awkward and full of zits. It wasn’t yet at that stage where it could be aesthetically pleasing. We marveled about it when it was first released, yes, but then we cringed in retrospect.

The environment backdrops however are probably the strongest points, where they capture the industrial nature of Midgar, the reactors and other such buildings.

Story:

Final Fantasy VII became legendary the minute Square released it. Every aspect was memorable. Part of it could be due to the fact that it was the first Final Fantasy game to enter the 3D realm. Another part was Tetsuya Nomura’s character designs, which hit the cool meter to the point of sub-zero.

The cinematics blew our minds. The opening action scene with Cloud, Barrett, and the rest of AVALANCHE attacking Shinra’s mako reactor is the most memorable opening to a Final Fantasy game. Period. Final Fantasy games really do know how to start at the right spot, no matter how good or bad the overall game is. The opening is always the best part.

Then there was the motorcycle chase. Cid’s airship. The gun fights. Battles with Sephiroth. The extra stuff to find, like summons and extra bosses. So much was jam-packed into the game.

But the story was the primary factor in making VII famous. It’s definitely one of the better ones. Man, the story became so famous that even gamers who haven’t touched a Final Fantasy game knew the major spoilers. It is the equivalent to knowing Darth Vader’s line, “I am your father” without having actually watched Star Wars.

Aerith (Aeris in the English releases) Gainsborough – the innocent flower girl who holds the secrets of the Ancients – develops a romance with Cloud and fucking dies at the end of Disc 1 by the main villain – Sephiroth. The scene shocked everyone and practically made headlines. Everybody has seen the horrible image in one way or another.

It seems to me that since Final Fantasy V, the stories have gotten more and more used to main character deaths, ultimately transforming into a heavy-hitting TV series rather than simply a video game series. In other words – it matured. Looking back, Final Fantasy IV appears to be child’s play and a prototype of later dramatic storylines with fully realized worlds.

Final Fantasy VII was also the first Final Fantasy game to create a world much like ours – one with cars and trains and airplanes and machine guns and even cellphones. The main city of Midgar reflects industrialization at its worst, with miles of slums and claustrophobic cities. Shinra Electric Power Company is a reflection of capitalism at its worst - a single entity in charge of so much that it’s pretty much the government. For the first time in a Final Fantasy game, you play as characters who dance between the morally ambiguous line of terrorism and activism. Funny enough, the theme of neglecting the planet resonates with us now more than ever. This game ended up being rather prophetic about the uncontrollable growth of corporations.

While the story is memorable with many intriguing elements, the plot itself is a tangled web. In my opinion, they really hashed in so many things that it’s easy to forget crucial details. It’s not straightforward, but at the same time everything does connect by the end. While Shinra is the driving force as a whole as the villain, Sephiroth takes over, then you learn about his backstory and then with the evil scientist Hojo and the extra-terrestrial Jenova and then “Weapon” and then the planet’s history and this and that and the other thing.

If I were to put Final Fantasy VI and Final Fantasy VII together and contrast them, as many gamers do, I would find that Final Fantasy VII is the summer blockbuster and Final Fantasy VI is the Oscar winner. Final Fantasy VII started introducing the sappy romance subplot to the series. A love triangle forms among Aerith, Cloud, and Cloud’s childhood friend Tifa. While there’s nothing inherently wrong with having a love triangle, the writing is like watching middle schoolers trying to express their feelings. Final Fantasy VI and Final Fantasy IV treated any romance with dignity and realism.

But maybe I’m being a bit harsh. After all, Cloud Strife did go through some suffering as an adolescent. His backstory clearly drives his antisocial behavior, so that becomes a good arc.

The goofiest but memorable part of the story deals with Don Corneo and Wall Market and running around store to store doing tasks in order to free Tifa from Don Corneo. It ends with Cloud needing to cross-dress as a woman to get inside Don’s mansion. Because, you know, it’s not like Cloud can just break in with his sword and Aerith’s magic or anything like that. But whatever. It’s anime.

The recent Final Fantasy VII Remake for the PS4 seems to streamline the story, and actually enhances the emotions they were trying to deliver in the original. I will be talking about the remake in a separate post altogether since I’m almost done with it at the time of this writing. But there’s a lot that I want to say about comparing and contrasting the remake and the original.

The latter half of the plot takes a couple weird turns. At one point, Cloud became catatonic and confined to a wheelchair.

That part of the game became the sluggish part for me. Sephiroth also tries to confuse Cloud, which confused me. Cloud apparently suffers from some alternate subconscious mumbo-jumbo and like. . .ungh. I get an aneurysm thinking about it sometimes.

Complicated plotlines like Final Fantasy VII start showing up from here on out in the Final Fantasy series. The trend of bishonen characters also begin here, bishonen being the Japanese term for “beautiful boy.” Cloud and Sephiroth have that look. The series starts hashing in sappier romances and much more of an anime feel.

Final Fantasy VII ultimately marked the start of a new era for the series – introducing both cool and overused tropes.

Music:

Hands down the best Final Fantasy soundtrack of all.

The entire soundtrack of this game is memorable. The opening tune, with its light twinkle when the stars show up, is enough to make any gamer know exactly what that’s from.

With a story set in a more modern world, we have music that is more modern. After Final Fantasy VI had a more serious and operatic score, Uematsu displayed his love of progressive rock here. The motorcycle chase incorporates a lot of synth, which was fitting for zipping through the streets of Midgar. However, Final Fantasy VII is the first Final Fantasy game without that familiar starting bassline for the battle them. The battle theme is instantly recognizable but also radically different from its predecessors. It’s dramatic and displays danger.

Meanwhile, the boss theme is one of the best boss themes in the series, or any video game really. It’s an electrifying progressive rock piece, and it’s my personal favorite boss theme.

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The more instrumental pieces are somber, given the dreary atmosphere of the planet. The world map music is very different from its predecessors. It’s romantic one moment, soaring the next, and then dips into foreboding terror. I guess that sums up the story of Final Fantasy VII.

And we cannot leave out One-Winged Angel, which I will talk about below.

Notable Theme:

Without a doubt, One-Winged Angel – played during the terrifying final battle against Sephiroth – is the most memorable piece of music in Final Fantasy VII.

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It may very well be the most popular song of the entire series. Nobuo Uematsu was inspired by Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring. It’s a whopping 30 something minute classical piece. If you look it up on YouTube and browse through it, you can definitely note the similarities. However, Uematsu didn’t want some boring classical introduction to the piece. He wanted to add the destructive impact of rock. The theme has a very distinct stamping-your-foot-down quality to it.

I had noticed a certain piece-by-piece feel of the song and that’s exactly how Uematsu composed it. This is the only song that Uematsu has composed where he created several tunes in his head and then rearranged them to make a single comprehensive song.

If you want to get technical, One-Winged Angel is the first Final Fantasy song with lyrics. The chorus sings in Latin about Sephiroth’s burning anger, with some lyrics actually taken from the medieval poem Carmina Burana. It sounds fantastic when fully orchestrated.

In Advent Children, the animated sequel to Final Fantasy VII, the music is accompanied by hardcore metal. This new rendition really illustrates the destructive power of Sephiroth. Uematsu changed the lyrics for Advent Children. They are more original now. I specifically noticed the lyrics “Veni, veni, mi fili”, which translates to “Come, come, my son.” Sephiroth is inviting you so he can kill you.

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Uematsu has stated that the original orchestration didn’t sit well with him. As I suspected, Advent Children’s hardcore metal version is the one he preferred, the one he would have composed had he the technology at the time of Final Fantasy VII.

Verdict:

Another must-play for any RPG fan, even if you think it’s overrated. It’s a must-play because of its popularity, in the same way that people are wide-eyed when you say you haven’t seen Star Wars or such-and-such other popular movie. It’s a whole lot of fun, especially in the scenes that involve other forms of gameplay, such as the motorcycle chase and even a battlefield strategy game in protecting Fort Condor.

Direct Sequel?

Yes – first there was the CGI movie Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children.

I actually watched Advent Children before playing Final Fantasy VII. I had already known most of what happened in the game and Advent Children became a monumental craze when it first came out. Everybody was talking about it. Watching the sequel before playing the game skewers your interpretation of things. My first impression of Cloud was that he was always whiny and angsty, and meanwhile Tifa kept nagging him to move on. I felt really bad for Cloud losing Aerith.

Then when I actually played Final Fantasy VII, I saw that Cloud starts as this badass mercenary. Tifa is spunky and clearly is the better choice (IMO) but Cloud is enamored by Aerith after only meeting her briefly. WHAT? Cloud. Bro. Make a move on Tifa, you nitwit. Tifa is AMAZING.

Square Enix then continued the story with Dirge of Cerberus – Final Fantasy VII. This video game sequel focuses on Vincent Valentine, a fan favorite of the original game.

Let me remind you about something – the original game revealed Shinra’s inner deep secret experiments, namely with Sephiroth and Jenova. Dirge of Cerberus introduces an even deeper research team within Shinra called Deepground. I don’t know about you, but it already sounds like the start of a terribly redundant string of sequels, like how the Jason Bourne movies keep revealing an even deeper level of conspiracy theories. Vincent’s mysterious background is now fully revealed. He is defined by – guess what? – another angsty lost lover story, this time with a woman named Lucrecia. Now, okay, look, maybe I’m just being a dick about these types of love stories. But when it keeps popping up within the same series in the same manner, I start asking if you have anything else to offer on your menu.

Lastly, there is the prequel for the PSP – Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII. Of all the games in the Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core has received the most positive reception. If anything, play that after playing Final Fantasy VII before bothering with anything else.

Oh, and of course there is the Final Fantasy VII Remake, which we thought wasn’t going to happen for the longest time but they finally released it in April 2020. More on that later after I finish it, and after I post my entire series of Final Fantasy reviews!

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yessoupy · 4 years

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the @imetyouonljpodcast episode this week gave me lots of thoughts and feelings about star wars. more like, reminded me of all my thoughts and feelings around my first fandom. thus, I decided to write my own journey into and throughout star wars fandom, and what it means to me. buckle up, this story spans decades.

my very first memory of anything star wars-related is a yoda puppet that my grandmother had. it had to be from the original run of the movies, because I was maybe 4 in my first memory of it, and i was born in '86. my sisters and I loved it, and one of our cousins was deathly scared of it so we'd chase him around the house with it.

my second memory of star wars was going to the movie store with my dad and sisters and seeing our favorite yoda on the cover of a VHS. "yoda yoda yoda! daddy, it's yoda!!! can we get it?" we were holding up the display cover for return of the jedi. dad said no, we couldn't get that one yet because we had to watch them in order. so we rented a new hope and all I remember was falling asleep while artoo and threepio were trundling across the tatooine desert sands. at five I guess I was too young.

in early 1997 the special editions of the original trilogy were aired in theaters and I was in 4th grade. dad took us to see one of them (I think empire, at some point we'd finally finished a new hope). at school that grading period I sat next to a boy named mark and he noticed I was drawing little x-wing silhouettes on my paper. "you like star wars too?" he asked. when I said yes, he declared that because of my name, he was going to call me skywalker. that's the name on the back of my high school letter jacket.

in fall of 1998 I started the 6th grade and I came home from school one day to a hardbound book my mom had checked out for me from the library. heir to the empire by timothy zahn. mom pointed out where it said on the cover it was a trilogy, and I could get the other books when I finished this one. she hadn't found the young jedi knights series for me. she'd checked out a GROWN-UP star wars book.

in spring of 1999 the phantom menace came out and my parents' friend took me to see it on opening day because neither of them were free and I HAD to go that day. later on that year she took me to a star wars exhibit at the museum of fine arts. that was also the first time I saw a monet and a renoir. the exhibit had costumes (real costumes!!!) from the original trilogy and the newest prequel. I bought a book about the myth of star wars in the museum gift shop.

I read every expanded universe book our local library had, which was a lot. I had a lot to catch up on, too, since heir to the empire had been published in 1992. you never saw me at school without a star wars book. I read while walking in the hallways, even. in 6th grade I read during lunch, since I was in varsity orchestra with 7th and 8th graders and was terribly shy. they'd tell me I should socialize at lunch, not read my books, but... I wanted to read. I had a lot to learn. I have a lot to know.

I was in 7th grade when I read vector prime, the first in the new series. my first class of the day was science, and the boy I had a crush on was in that class. we had DEAR time at the beginning of that class - drop everything and read. not a hardship for me. that day, I read the part of the book where chewbacca was killed. I looked up, astonished. heartbroken. I locked eyes with the boy I liked. he nodded at the book and I showed him the cover. he nodded sympathetically. "they killed chewie," I whispered. he said "I know."

I wrote original characters in star wars fan fiction when I was about 13. I had an internet friend named rachel who lived in brisbane. then there was dave and 'roswell' who gave me ideas for my story. I loved being able to talk about the wide world of star wars with other people. we used aol instant messenger and email. my username in those days had 'skywalker' in it. I am pretty sure we met in an aol chatroom. I didn't find much of use on the official star wars site and I have probably visited it fewer than 10 times since 1999.

I read those books all through middle and high school. they were my christmas presents and my birthday presents. I moved into our family beach house after college. it sounds really nice but I didn't have running water because it was the summer after Ike hit. I would go to the used book store on 23rd street and buy a stack of star wars books and read them while I waiting for calls to interview for a teaching position. weekends I'd go into town to stay at a friend's house and help her with wedding stuff. I'd shower there, too. that's where my new stash of star wars books started, with me catching up on the legacy of the force series I hadn't read in college and then finishing up through the fate of the jedi as those came out. I felt that I had grown up with these characters. I remembered when kyp was just an orphan han rescued, when jacen and jaina were five years old, when corran horn had no wife, no kids, and was just finding out who his family was. I had capital o opinions about what color lightsaber i would have and why (silver; bc corran), I knew the geography of the galaxy and where everyone was from and my favorite planet was dathomir because women ruled it. I knew all of these characters' histories and motivations and the difficult decisions they'd made and had to live with. I loved them.

i never ventured into the online fandom space for star wars, even after I'd found other online fandom spaces, because I didn't feel like there was anything anyone could add to it for me. I was satisfied with all I'd gotten. sure, favorite characters had been killed (after chewie, the one who stung most was Mara, luke's wife), but people die. and in such a long-running series spanning so many years and trillions of miles of space... you come to expect it.

people would ask me ALL THE TIME when the sequels were coming out and I said never. then, disney bought star wars. initially I was excited (tears of joy happy) to have sequels confirmed. my mind raced, imagining a trilogy centered on the events surrounding jacen's descent to the dark side. the original actors would be the right age for that. who could play jacen?

then, the announcement came that the canon was now 'legends' and they wouldn't be taking any of it into account when writing the sequels BUT that didn't mean we wouldn't see old canon favorites. they announced adam driver as the villain and I thought "jacen." I held onto the idea that this knowledge I had, these years of knowing these stories, would still be worth something. that I'd be able to add new information to my mental bookshelves and maps. that my universe would expand further.

the force awakens was a bitter disappointment. I was upset from the crawl, leia's title making it clear to me that she wasn't chief of state, she wasn't the mother to three children, han wasn't her husband, and all of her history I'd grown to love really was gone. what I saw was the older version of a woman I'd met when she was 18 and hadn't seen her since her early twenties. I didn't know her.

I didn't know the galaxy, either. starting with the new jedi order series, a map of the galaxy was included in the front of each book with the planets named so you knew where everything was happening. the new galaxy was bare. it was small and knowable. while the hosnian prime system was destroyed in the movie, I'd never known it, and all the planets I DID know were similarly blasted out of memory. where was dathomir and its fierce warrior witches? if their planets were gone so were their people.

as the movie trudged on, a retelling of a new hope, I kept thinking, "at least let his name be jacen." I hung my hopes on this sith character being han and leia's son and sharing that name of the boy I'd known and the man who'd grown up to turn to the dark side. at that first shout of 'BEN!' I was angry. Ben?? that was the name of LUKE'S son! that was MARA'S child! Ben??? with three letters jacen solo and ben skywalker were also dead to the galaxy.

I know, I know. I should get over it. I AM thankful for poe dameron. the x-wing books were always my favorite. poe was familiar to me the way other new characters weren't. he was part of the new republic navy. I knew what that was. he flew an x-wing. I knew what that was.l and what company manufactured them. he was from yavin IV, I knew where that was and what it looked like. finn was a stormtrooper, yes, but the empire had not stolen children to be raised as stormtroopers. they were recruited like any other position. his story wasn't real to me, it wasn't something I could easily accept. and the idea that the new republic just LET the first order rise? leia's new republic would NEVER. but leia wasn't chief of state in this universe. leia hadn't had that power.

I read a lot of articles about the force awakens and the reactions to it, and never saw myself in any of them. the star wars fanboys whom I'd never known were painted as being angry because their fan knowledge was useless and "boo-hoo poor widdle fanboys" they would be mocked, rightfully. but that's why I was angry, ultimately. everyone I knew and loved was dead. worse, they'd never existed. "what do you think will happen?" some unsuspecting coworker would ask. I'd shrug, but inside I was yelling "who the fuck knows! my favorite characters don't exist anymore. nothing I know as this person you know as SKYWALKER means anything anymore."

it only got worse from there. One day I spent four hours figuring out how far the casino planet was from the drifting ships in the last jedi and doing math to figure out how long it would REALLY take to get there, using old canon star wars physics. I couldn't suspend my disbelief during that movie. everything was wrong. (the other space physics quibble I had was from TFA when poe is using comms while in hyperspace, and dropping out on a command and not... when nav told him to?? you'd fly right through a star!! were they HOVERING in hyperspace? none of it made sense.) I knew too much and too little to enjoy it.

TROS was a narrative mess already retconning new canon and I decided that I would only keep what I liked about the new canon (poe and his family) and pretend the old canon is all there is. one day I'll write the story of poe being part of the storied rogue squadron being sent by leia's new republic to put down the fascist upstarts at the edge of the unknown regions. one day.

one more quick story -- i met my college friend’s three kids for the first time when the oldest was 6. i’d sent a toy lightsaber as a gift when he was born, because i believe every child should get their first lightsaber from a skywalker, and his father had shown him the movies when he turned 4. when i walked into the house i said hello and he said, “i have some questions about star wars.”

we sat on the couch with the tfa visual dictionary, a book he’d gotten out of the library. every question he had was an excellent question, and i couldn’t answer any of them. “why does his lightsaber look like that? and why does he have the extra blades?”

“well, kiddo, let’s see what it says here about how lightsabers are made. i used to know all about it, but they changed everything on me.”

---

what i love about star wars since disney bought it:

poe dameron, cassian andor (and all of rogue one, i got over the fact that the movie wouldn’t be about rogue squadron it was PERFECT), solo (a fucking DELIGHT), the mandalorian, and i’m sure the cassian andor live action will be amazing and i’ll love it.

#star wars #fandom thoughts #i've just spent SO MUCH of my life being a star wars fan #and being perfectly happy to describe myself as such #edit i tried a read more but it didn't work so sorrryyyyyyyy

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idkmybffpotter · 4 years

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HP Fic Rec List

Yooooooooo. Ive finally gotten started on making a fic rec list (Im so bad at remembering to save the fics I love).

Here is the start of it! Warning: Most of these fics are epic length, 250k+words. Enjoy!!!

Ps. Please feel free to DM me to talk about any of these! Id love to hear your thoughts!

DRARRY

***Life Cycle Series by WIndseeker2305. https://archiveofourown.org/series/21657

1,402,781 words. #Creatures #Soulmates #Mpreg, #Abandoned in 3rd book

After a summer of torture with the Dursleys, Harry falls into a self induced magical coma. Draco-who holds a hidden torch for him-jumps in to help. There they meet and decide many things that could very well change the Wizarding World forever.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^ Literally my fav story ive ever read everrrr.

***Turn by Saras_Girl https://archiveofourown.org/works/879852/chapters/1692695

306,708 words #Alternate Reality

***Leo Inter Serpentes by Aeternum https://archiveofourown.org/series/53590

746,048 words #Complete Series Rewrite #Slytherin Harry

Just one conversation between two eleven year old boys goes slightly differently, and the world changes. Just how much will be different with Harry being sorted into Slytherin, and how much will stay the same?

***Saving Connor Series by Lightning on The Wave https://www.fanfiction.net/u/895946/Lightning-on-the-Wave

3,069,375 words

Harry's twin Connor is the Boy Who Lived, and Harry is devoted to protecting him by making himself look ordinary. But certain people won't let Harry stay in the shadows...

***Survival is a Talent by ShanaStoryteller https://archiveofourown.org/works/12006417/chapters/27167826

338,714+words #WIP #soulmates #POC

In the middle of their second year, Draco and Harry discover they're soulmates and do their best to keep it a secret from everyone. Their best isn't perfect.

***Freedom To Be by Quicksilvermaid https://archiveofourown.org/works/16052705/chapters/37477826

169, 550words #COMPLETE #BDSM

Harry Potter is the Boy Who Lived.12 years after the war, he's become the Boy Who Lived For Everyone Else. He has the perfect wife. The perfect house. The perfect job. The perfect friends.Only nothing feels perfect.Until one day he stumbles across a club called Release and begins a journey of self-discovery that takes him to a very different place.

***Brother to Basilisks by Lomonaaeren https://archiveofourown.org/works/2435531/chapters/5393471

595,688+ words AU of PoA. Harry wakes in the night to a voice calling him from somewhere in the castle—and when he follows it, everything changes

***Reparations by Saras_Girl https://archiveofourown.org/works/879599/chapters/1692075

87,376 words #Healer Harry

Harry is about to discover that the steepest learning curve comes after Healer training, and that second chances can be found in unexpected places.

***Secrets by Vorabiza https://archiveofourown.org/works/8184311/chapters/18751001

395,365 words Beginning with Draco's unexpected arrival at the Dursleys, Harry's summer after sixth year becomes filled with activity and many secrets. As his summer progresses, Harry generates several unexpected allies as he finds himself actively becoming the leader of the Light side.

***Being a Veelas Mate by Chereche https://archiveofourown.org/works/7524595/chapters/17103607

399,867words Draco comes into his veela nature early when his mate's life is in danger. Will their unique bond be enough to finally bring peace to the wizarding world?

***All Life is Your to Miss by Saras_Girl https://archiveofourown.org/works/825875/chapters/1568057

114,741words #Professor Harry

Professor Malfoy's world is contained, controlled, and as solitary as he can make it, but when an act of petty revenge goes horribly awry, he and his trusty six-legged friend are thrown into Hogwarts life at the deep end and must learn to live, love and let go.

***Twist of Fate by Oakstone730 https://archiveofourown.org/works/473335/chapters/819506

302,209 words Draco asks Harry to help him beat the Imperius curse during 4th year. The lessons turn into more than either expected. A story of redemption and forgiveness

HINNY

***A Second Chance by Breanie https://archiveofourown.org/works/16237082/chapters/37957664

1,714,567 words #WIP

What if Sirius didn't spent twelve years in prison, but was given a trial after four years? Follow the story of Sirius Black as he learns what it means to be a father/brother/guardian to his young godson & the story of Harry Potter, a young boy with a loving home who learns about the Marauders from the two men who should have raised him. M for later. Eventual Hinny.

JEDDY

***Couldn’t Get Better They Say by JadePresley https://archiveofourown.org/works/14119629/chapters/32535660

78,611 words #NoMagic #TextingFic

A boy texts the wrong number late one night. Another boy replies. Chaos ensues. Or, The one where James is too caught up in his career to be the person he wants to be, Teddy drinks too much to avoid his past, Albus wears terrible hats, Lily is a badass, and Gavin is the star of the show.

***Chances by TheProdigyPenguin https://archiveofourown.org/works/21166652/chapters/50379941

78,761words #COMPLETE

Teddy has lived in France with his grandmother for his entire life, living unaware of his past or the significance of his parent's lives, cut short at the end of the war. He lives blissfully ignorant of the life he was meant to have in England, until his grandmother dies shortly after his twenty-seventh birthday, and the discovery of letters written by an estranged godfather he never knew he had leads him back to his families home, searching for answers but in the end finding more than he'd ever expected or hoped.

SCORBUS

***Its Tea Time by Ellizablue https://archiveofourown.org/series/538465

872,002+ #WIP #Trilogy

SEVERITUS

***Blood by Lord of Chaos https://archiveofourown.org/works/3089927/chapters/6696266

466,835words Harry's sent reeling when he learns that Professor Snape is his bio dad, and if that were all he had to deal with, he'd probably be all right, but he's got werewolves, escaped convicts, a stubborn Dark Lord, and his own inner demons to deal with. Starts third year. Rating mostly for violence. Story deals with mental health, bigotry and child abuse.

***Digging for bones by paganaidd https://archiveofourown.org/works/598019/chapters/1078847

203,178 words

Rather than allowing Harry to stay at Diagon Alley after he blew up Aunt Marge, the Ministry sends Harry back to the Dursleys. Harry returns to school after a terrible summer, to find that he's not the only one with this kind of secret. A student has been killed by his family. New screening measures are put into place by the Ministry: Every student must be given a medical exam and interview to look for child abuse. With Dumbledore facing an inquiry, Snape is entrusted with the task of making sure EVERYONE receives one.

***Broken Mind Series by SensiblyTainted https://archiveofourown.org/works/8873683/chapters/20344381

864,245 words #Mental Health Issues #Multiple Personaity Disorder #Abuse

Harry Potter watched his mother die when he was fifteen months old, a piece of Voldemort's soul invaded his own, Vernon abused him, Petunia tore him to shreds with her hateful words, and Lockhart molested him throughout Second-year. After all that trauma, is it any wonder Harry created multiple personalities to deal with it all? In Harry's third year, Severus Snape decides to do something about it. He gives Harry therapy in secret, and this opens Harry up to a friendship with Neville Longbottom, another victim of Lockhart's perversions, and Draco Malfoy who can understand Harry's Slytherin alter better than anyone else.

***A Year Like None Other by aspeninthesunlight https://archiveofourown.org/works/742072/chapters/1382061

789,589 words

A letter from home? A letter from family? Well, Harry Potter knows he has neither, but all the same, it starts with a letter from Surrey. Whatever the Durleys have to say, it can't be anything good, so Harry's determined to ignore it. But then, his evil schoolmate rival spots the letter and his slimy excuse for a teacher intercepts it and forces him to read it. And that sends Harry down a path he'd never have walked on his own.

SNARRY

***Gift of Kindness by Hippocrates460 https://archiveofourown.org/works/14656377/chapters/33859731

105,872words #COMPLETE #soulmates #courting rituals

When Harry arrives at Hogwarts, everything is overwhelming. Luckily he makes some friends, Hagrid who took him to Diagon Alley, Ron who he met on the train, and Severus, who explains why they have to pretend to hate each other. This story spans 7 years, during which Severus and Harry get to know each other and find understanding.

TOMARRY

***Descent into Darkness by Athey https://www.wattpad.com/story/179650625-harry-potter-and-the-descent-into-darkness

https://www.wattpad.com/684682449-harry-potter-and-the-breeding-darkness-prologue

It's Harry's 4th year at Hogwarts and his name has just come out of the Goblet of Fire. Everyone has abandoned him and he feels utterly alone. Through an accident Harry and the piece of Voldemort's soul that resides inside him begin to interact and Harry slowly begins to change. He becomes stronger and more aware, and slowly grows aware of a more sinister course of events that has perpetuated his entire life.

WOLFSTAR

***Sweater weather by lumosinlove

74,493words+ #WIP #NoMagicAU Remus works for the Gryffindor Lions as a physical trainer, and has been half in love with Sirius Black, the Lions' heartthrob captain, for a while now, but he never expected Sirius to return the feelings. Read if you like cute nicknames, slow burn, and pining. Yep. That's it.

***Soltnse by lumosinlove https://archiveofourown.org/works/17186087/chapters/40408559

61,997 words #COMPLETE #NoMagicAU Sirius, a young Russian billionaire hires Remus, who is working part time as a call boy to make ends meet. Things happen, feelings occur

***Text Talk by merlywhirls https://archiveofourown.org/works/1651109/chapters/3501239

141,250 words #NoMagicAU

Sirius is in boarding school, Remus is in hospital, and they don't know each other until Sirius texts the wrong number.

***Casting Moonshadows by moonsign https://www.fanfiction.net/s/3378356/1/Casting-Moonshadows

393,500 words #WIP #ANGST

Lonely and outcast by his classmates, Remus wishes on a moonshadow for a friend who understands him. To his amazement his wish is not only answered once, but three times by his former enemies, the Marauders.

***Of Leaves and Stars by irrationalmoony, lady amina https://archiveofourown.org/works/6535114/chapters/14950924

266,476words #Texting Fic #WIP

Almost a year out of Hogwarts, Lily finally manages to convince Sirius and James to get more acquainted with muggle technology and buy phones. Sirius, of course, texts the wrong number.

RANDOM PAIRINGS

Harry/Sirius/Remus:

***To See The Human Soul Take Wing by Maeglin Yedi 227,394 words

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1007970/chapters/1999281

#Werewolf Harry #Friendly Vampires This is actually the 3rd

book in the series, but it can be read as a standalone.

Harry's final year at Hogwarts is filled with secrets, old enemies and new threats. Unable to share his current life with his friends, Harry has to put his faith in the unlikeliest of allies to find a way to defeat Voldemort while his love for Sirius and Remus is repeatedly put to the test.

Hermione/Sirius

***Debt of Time by Shayalonnie

https://archiveofourown.org/series/760443

715,940 words #COMPLETE #Time Travel

When Hermione finds a way to bring Sirius back from the veil, her actions change the rest of the war. Little does she know her spell restoring him to life provokes magic she doesn't understand and sets her on a path that ends with a Time-Turner.

Severus Snape/OMC

*** Of A Linear Circle by flamethrower

https://archiveofourown.org/series/755028

1,428,885words #WIP #Long Series #Time Travel

In September of 1971, Severus Snape finds a forgotten portrait of the Slytherin family in a dark corner of the Slytherin Common Room. At the time, he has no idea that talking portrait will affect the rest of his life.

Harry/Theo/Charlie/OMCs

***There Be Dragons Harry by Scioneeris

https://archiveofourown.org/works/485605/chapters/845701

919,721words #WIP #Creature Inheritance

Harem!Fic Harry inherits a creature "thing" from both sides of his parents and somehow that leads to weird sleeping habits, conversations with Theodore Nott and finding himself caught up in a world of Dragons, elemental powers and new creatures he's never heard of before. Dragons? Mates? Very AU. Contains all kinds of slash.

Scorpius/Rose

***Ignite by Slide (JustSlide)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/6470272/chapters/14810293

191,497 words

A mysterious illness leaving a handful of uninfected. A school in quarantine, isolated from the outside world. Danger on all sides, striking seemingly at random. And, at the heart of it all, Scorpius Malfoy, the only man to believe this is a part of a wider, dangerous plot

***Raindrops on Roses by backinyourbox

https://archiveofourown.org/works/373224/chapters/608435

301,383 words

Beginning immediately after the Epilogue, this story follows Scorpius, Rose and Albus through their Hogwarts years and beyond. Childish fears and desires soon turn to more serious dilemmas as some members of the Ravenclaw trio are forced to grow up too soon. Albus wants to be remembered for being something other than Harry Potter's son. Scorpius knows his father expects him to follow in his footsteps, but how long can he keep his friends, his music and his OWL in Muggle Studies a secret? And Rose has yet to decide what she wants...

Harry Potter/George Weasley Looking Beyond by Shini_amaryllis

https://archiveofourown.org/works/3178778/chapters/6905645

674,719 #COMPLETE #FEM!Harry

The first thing everyone noticed about Hope Potter was that she may have had her mother's face, but she had her father's penchant for causing trouble or somehow finding it. It only made sense that she would fall for a prankster, and it only made sense that danger was attracted to her very scent. Somehow, she was going to prove she was more than just the Girl-Who-Lived

Harry Potter/Avengers Crossover

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1369690/chapters/2902480

324570 #Loki is Harrys Dad #Just Read it I promise its great

In the several millennia he had existed Loki Odinson, Norse God of Mischief and Lies, had been many things, he had been a liar, a warrior, and a trickster, just to name a few, but never before, in his thousands of years of existence had he been a loving father, but all it took was a single glance at the perfect little creature before him and he knew, he was gone.

#Harry Potter #fanfiction #drarry #scorbus #jeddy #snarry #severitus #hinny #Marauders #wolfstar #cursed child #tomarry

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shannygoatgruff · 4 years

Text

The World Over - Part IV

a/n: Sorry it’s taken me so long to update this. I’m a slow writer with some things and I hit a bit of a stumbling block...however, I think I’m past it now. Hope you enjoy!

Catch Up Here

Part IV - The Nameless Girl & The Faithless Priest

It had only been three years since she left Winterfell with her father and sister, yet Arya Stark felt like she had aged twenty. The corruption in King’s Landing, all of the bloodshed she had seen on the King’s Road and all that she had endured in the House of Black and White had managed to turn her youthful spirit into something that she no longer recognized. This thing, this person she was becoming, was not someone she liked very much. This new version of herself had become detached, cold, and guarded. How she longed for the days when she was once the impish little girl of the North.

Still every bit as impulsive as before, Arya now knew how to hone her skills. Through her various teachers, fighting instructors and learning to survive while traveling through Westeros, she had learned how to watch and stalk her prey, strategize, and wait for the opportune moment to attack. Arya Stark was no longer the wily, hotheaded, passionate, little girl; she was now patient, dangerous, killer that harbored a penchant for revenge.

Arya sat alone on the beach, away from the camp of Wildlings. Annoyed with their crude language, grunts, and stares, she longed for time to herself. She needed to plan how she was going to escape them and leave Braavos for good. There were still many names on her list to cross off, but her work in this city was over. She had learned all she could from the Many-Faced God and it was time to put that knowledge into action, but not in Braavos. The God of Death had plans for her spread his teachings throughout Westeros and she would need to move soon if she was going kill Cersei Lannister and eventually get back to Jon, on the Wall.

Feeling the warm breeze on her face, she looked up at the setting sun and rising moon. Now, she found it hard to image the Westeros skyline with two moons, when as a child she could see it so clearly in her mind’s eye. Her imagination must have been just one more thing that coming south robbed her of – leaving Winterfell had already taken so much from her; her family, her home, herself. Why not her imagination?

Arya closed her eyes against the breeze and the sound of the waves crashing. Toes buried deep in the sand, she lifted her head toward the sky and tried to reclaim some of her childhood memories. She could almost put herself back in her childhood nursery with her siblings, seated on the floor between Bran and Robb while Rickon sat on Sansa’s lap. She could hear Old Nan’s voice recounting the tale of the famed two moons of Westeros, “One day there were two moons in the sky, but one wandered too close to the sun and cracked from the heat. A thousand, thousand dragons poured forth and drank the fire of the sun. That is why dragons breathe flame. One day the other moon will kiss the sun too, and then it will crack and the dragons will return.”

When Old Nan would talk, all of the Stark children were left on the edge of their seats.

Arya actually felt goosebumps on her skin at the thought, the same way she did as a child remembering the tale. How exciting that all seemed…fire breathing dragons. All of the children thought that was the best story they had ever heard, except for Sansa, who thought it was utterly preposterous. “That’s not true at all. Dragons come from the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai. That is just some made-up tale from the tribes beyond the Narrow Sea,” Sansa had corrected their Nursemaid.

Arya had rolled her eyes at her older sister and throwing a wooden toy at her that nearly missed hitting Rickon. That stunt had caused Sansa to tattle, because Sansa always tattled, and Arya had bolted upright and chased her older sister around the grounds of Winterfell at breakneck speed. If Sansa would have just taken back what she said about dragon stories being stupid and for boys, and that Arya was a boy for liking such ridiculous legends, then she wouldn’t have gotten chased.

She felt her lips turn up into a smile when she remembered hearing that her mother was looking for her antics of running around the grounds like a banshee. In an attempt to hide from her mother, she ran to the stables to find protection in her brother, Jon. Together, they hid in a haystack looking at the sky talking about the dragons and the two moons of Westeros. As the sky started to darken from light to dark blue and the twinkling stars began to dot the black, Arya looked over at her brother and asked if he thought the stars were the eyes of the dragons that had died before them.

Jon simply shrugged and mussed her hair, to which she gave him the biggest hug a girl of eight could give her big brother. Jon didn’t make fun of her or tease her too badly. He listened to her and let her dream. He encouraged her and gave her courage. He let her imagine and be wild. Jon believed in her.

If things were only as simple as believing in dragons being born of the moon and hiding from her mother in the hay with Jon.

Jon. How she missed her eldest brother. Jon Snow was the one person in all of the Seven Kingdoms that understood her. He got her even more than her father did. Always her ally Jon felt more to her like her real sibling than a half-brother. Parentage or station be damned, he understood what it was like to be an outsider and never once treated her like she couldn’t be anything in the world that she wanted to be.

Arya could feel herself cringe at the words coming from Septa Mordane’s lips as she would stand over Arya pointing her finger at her in disapproval, “No matter the House, the role of the Lady remains the same. It is a Lady’s must learn needlework – being able to embroider your House’s sigil is a skill that will be left up to you and ladies-in-waiting. Straight lines are imperative. Imagine your husband’s banners marching off to war and with an unrecognizable sigil. Really, Arya, I expect more from a Lady Stark of Winterfell.”

Well, who wanted to be a Lady?

As a Lady, her duty would be to have her father match her to a Lord or Steward of a prestigious house to secure an alliance. She would be expected to bear her husband many children, boys, gods be good, that would carry on her husband’s house’s name so they may be strong wardens and banner-men if ever called on by their Liege Lord or the by the King, himself. Where was the honor in that?

Arya would have rather been swallowed up by dragon fire than have to endure that. Sansa was the one that was interested in all of that stupid stuff. She was the one that wanted to be married to a dumb prince, that would leave her to go off to battle while she sat at home sewing him a flag with their House sigil on it. Arya had always imagined herself being in the battle fighting side by side with the prince.

As the wind shifted Arya’s head turned slowly at the sounds coming from her left. The fine grains of white and gold sand began to carry on the breeze causing her to squint to avoid getting it in her eye. Hands in the sand, she carefully felt around for something, anything, sharp to use as a weapon. The blond Wildling had taken Needle from her leaving her virtually defenseless. If she were going to protect herself from a threat, she was going to have to rely on her cunning to do so. She would need to devise a plan to get back her blade and away from these people to carry out her mission.

Heavy ropes bound his hands and feet making it even harder to walk on the sand. He was hungry, thirsty, and felt as though his limbs were about to give out at any second. His left eye was swollen shut, it was sure to have an infection from the wound he had sustained during the shipwreck and he was sure that his right shoulder was dislocated by the awkward way his arm hung lower than his left. But, he would not show any signs of pain. He would not give them the satisfaction.

Holding his head high he smirked as he was forcefully pushed toward the group of men sitting by the fire. With a smirk on his face, Heahmund Bishop of Sherborne gave a mocking bow toward the man sitting in the middle, “Heathen King.”

Ivar smiled pleasantly at his prisoner, “Bishop Heahmund! What a welcomed surprise.” He let his eyes sweep over the man’s appearance and shook his head at his injuries, “You don’t look well. Having a rough time?” Ivar returned his gaze to the fire and resumed poking it with a stick, “It seems as if your god has forsaken you, yet again. While my gods…they continue to show me favor.”

Bishop Heahmund blinked intense blue eyes before raising his bound hands to his forehead to swat at a sand fly buzzing near his face, “Forsaken me?”

“Yes. Your god has delivered you back to me – brought you all this way, mostly unharmed, through storms and shipwreck, miles from home only to end up here,” Ivar waved his hand around the beach to signify their unknown land, “on this beach as my slave once again.” Raising his water skin to his lips and taking a long slow drink, he made a show of wiping the cold liquid from his lips with the back of his hand, “It seems I’m his favorite son now, Bishop. Not you.”

Heahmund ran his tongue over his dry, cracked lips at the sight of the skin of water. He had to still himself from lurching forward and pulling the pouch from the heathen’s hands. He could almost feel the cool liquid in his mouth, soothing his dry burning throat, but he wouldn’t move. No matter how much his body ached for water, he wouldn’t give the heathen the satisfaction. Instead, the bishop stood tall and looked around the meager camp unimpressed, “And it seems to me, heathen, that the Lord God is punishing you for all of your sins. Your army is scarce, ships in ruin. You hardly have enough food or supplies to care for those in your company. Yet you believe that you are favored? It is your hubris… “

“Enough!” Ivar’s voice carried down the beach causing Arya to turn toward the noise. He let a low chuckle escape his lips, “Take the Christian over to the remains of the ships and tie him up there. I have not decided his fate, yet.” He looked over to Hvitserk who was holding the Bishop under his good arm, ready to take him to his new spot on the beach. “Fetch the slave girl to look at his wounds.”

Heahmund smiled and ducked his head in a bow at Ivar before being yanked off in a direction away from the camp. Letting his eyes roam around the Viking’s meager base he made note of weaknesses in their defenses, and possible escape routes. Once he was settled he would have more time to watch and plan how he would once again get away from the heathen horde.

Arya watched silently as the blonde Wildling led the new prisoner over to the wreckage and tied him to the mast of a ship. Where did these people come from? Everything she had witnessed from them went against everything she had ever been told about their kind. They traveled by ship, they had prisoners…were not they supposed to be nomads that traveled through snow-covered mountains on foot? Didn’t they kill everything in their path? Why would they take a bound prisoner and tie him to a ship? Was this man special? A deserter perhaps? Wouldn’t that be more reason to kill him?

She was roused from her musings as the blond man quietly approached her stopping just short of where she sat to look out at the ocean. He didn’t say anything to her, instead, he breathed in the salt air and released it slowly. He squatted next to her and ran his hands over the sand, picking up pebbles before he stood and tried to skim them over the rolling tides.

“You need to heal the Bishop,” Hvitserk said flinging his first pebble against the rolling water, knowing this was a futile exercise, but happy to have something to do other than look at the girl. Talking to her was frustrating. He couldn’t understand her, and she did not attempt to try to understand him. The more patient he tried to be in communicating with her, the more stubborn she seemed. “He has a cut on his head.”

Arya turned to him with furrowed brows and blinked, “Where’s my sword?”

“I think his arm may be broken.” Hvitserk finished touching his arm in an attempt to try a different means of communication with the native peasant. “Ivar wants you to fix the Christian Priest – who knows why. And it is time to check on Ubbe. Then you may eat,” he rested his hand on the hilt of his broadsword as he shifted his weight from one leg to the other.

Arya smiled, “Yes, my sword, Needle. I want it back.” She slowly started to stand, wiping the sand off of her legs and hands. “It is very important to me,” she placed her hand over her heart, “It’s mine and I want it back.”

Hvitserk looked at her stance and tilted his head slightly. He raised his hand to his chest and lifted his chin, “Hvitserk,” he dipped his head in her direction for her to repeat her name. Whatever she had said before was too many words for him to try to pick out which one had been her name.

Arya rolled her eyes. What he mocking her or trying to tell her the location of her sword? All she needed him to do was to take her to it. She folded her arms against her chest and looked toward the camp, “Where is Needle?” She spoke slower and louder for the Wildling to understand her.

“Nee-del?” He nodded in her direction with a smile. He pointed to his chest again and dipped his head, “Hvitserk.” When the slave didn’t respond, he shook his head in frustration. “Never mind,” he gently turned her around by the shoulder and headed her around in the direction of the campfire. “Come, you need to see about Heahmund, then check on Ubbe.”

Bishop Heahmund was silent as the two figures approached him from further down the beach. Trying to hide the disdain in his face at the sight of one of the sons of Ragnar, he let his gaze fall on the small girl that accompanied him. She was unfamiliar to him, but judging from her look she was no one of import; probably the slave the heathen Ivar spoke of, though she did not have the look of a Northmen.

“Nee-del,” Hvitserk said turning to Arya, “Bishop Heahmund is a prisoner. Tend to his wounds.”

Upon hearing the name of her sword, Arya looked back at the blond man in front of her, “Yes. Needle. Where is my sword?”

Bishop Heahmund looked at the child quizzically, holding his head a slight angle. The language she spoke was odd, but he thought he was able to pick out a word or two. What she spoke reminded him of Latin, Frankish and a Romanian language he had studied some time ago. “My sword?”

Arya turned to face the priest, her eyes growing large in hope. “Do you speak the common tongue?” she asked, praying to the old gods and the new that he did. Already twelve moons had past and she still knew little to nothing about the people whose company she kept. She didn’t know if they were friend or foe. She hadn’t yet decided when she left if she should add the one that didn’t walk to her list, or if she should leave them in peace. More importantly, she needed to know if they had heard any news on her brother Jon Snow at the Wall.

Kneeling beside the bishop, Arya stretched her fingers toward his arm and watched as he pulled back his shoulder with pride. This movement received him a swift kick in the boot from the blond Wildling, “Are you always such a shit?” Arya yelled, turning her head toward Hvitserk, “This man is hurt and you’re kicking him.”

Heahmund let out a soft laugh as he licked his dry lips. He raised his hand to signal that he was fine. He thoughtfully planned out how to form the words he wanted to say to her, mixing the languages that hers most resembled. He could only hope that she would be able to understand him, “Yes, he is. He is a heathen and has no compassion in his black heart.”

Arya looked at the dark-haired prisoner and considered his words. His words didn’t mean much, they sounded more like a toddler learning to speak. His sentence structure was off, and some of the words did not make much sense, but there was still enough there that she was able to piece together what he was trying to say, “You can understand me?” She watched intently as he thought about what she asked and then nodded slowly. Excitedly, she sat up on her knees and placed her hands on her lap, leaning forward to grill him, “Are you all Wildlings from North of the Wall? How did you end up in Braavos? Have you heard any news of the Knights Watch or what’s going on in the North? What about the Lannisters?”

“You can speak to the slave?” Heahmund watched as Hvitserk pulled the slave girl to her feet. Instead of answering the other man, he remained impassive, looking out at the ocean. “Answer me, Christian!” Cutting his eyes up and to the left, the priest smiled before gently bowing his head and saying prayers of thanksgiving to God. Not only had he been spared from drowning in the storm, but he had been brought to a camp where there was someone with whom he could communicate. If the heathens couldn’t talk to her that was not his concern.

“Until you feel like being more cooperative, your wounds will have to tend themselves,” Hvitserk said roughly pulling the slave girl away toward the fire where the others sat, no doubt to tell Ivar that the Bishop could communicate with their captive.

Heahmund sat uncomfortably against the mast watching the dying embers of the fire. Judging from the placement of the moon in the sky, it was still the small hours of the morning. The Viking encampment was quiet with only a few warriors on patrol. His hands were bound awkwardly, mostly due to the dislocation in his shoulder and the pain in his eye was unbearable, but he would not complain. These small pains were his penance for being weak of body and spirit.

During the storm that brought the ship to this island, there had been times when he had doubted that God would see him through and he had been ready to give up and surrender to death. Instead of praying and believing in God’s plan, he allowed weak thoughts to enter his mind and for the briefest moment, he had almost considered calling on Odin or Thor to calm the storms so that the ship would not capsize.

How could he, a priest, a bishop even, fathom asking a false god for help? He wasn’t a man that feared easily and could not recount another time when he felt desperate. Even still a truly devout man would never consider calling on a savior other than his own. Here he was a warrior for God, and there he was acting like one of the scared sheep in his flock instead of the shepherd.

A warrior for God – that was an oxymoron. The Gospels of the New Testament, devoted to the miracles of the Son of God, the Lord Jesus Christ, explained how He came to the world as the Lamb of God to die for cleansing men of all sin. It was because Jesus paid the ultimate sacrifice man’s sins were forgiven and he could live life eternal in Heaven with the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. The miracle of Jesus’s birth, life, death, and resurrection is what put an end to God’s display of wrath toward mankind.

Learning these lessons in seminary, and being one of the few that could read the Holy Bible, Heahmund, Bishop of Sherborne fully understood the Word of God. But, the part he could never fully wrap his mind around was why he could never put down the desire to raise a sword and follow the Word. When Rome came to him and told him they wanted him to be a warrior priest, he should have refused, citing that an all-powerful God could raise and destroy an entire nation in a blink of an eye did not need men to raise an army in His name. Or that Jesus, in the New Testament, was a peaceful man and never raised arms. So why, would God need soldiers? But, he didn’t question. He answered the call without hesitation. He picked up his Bible and his sword and pretended not to see the hypocrisy.

But he kept quiet because otherwise, he would have to admit to himself how much he liked the art of war. There was something about being the first one on the battlefield that made him feel powerful. When he commanded an army, he felt more of a sense of purpose than he ever felt leading a church. He would much rather take a life than say a prayer to try to save someone’s immortal soul. Heahmund was born to kill – doing so for God, just seemed like a worthy cause.

He wasn’t a pious man, he was killing machine. He was a captain that needed an army and what better army to fight for than God’s? If that meant that he had to spend time in seminary and study the teachings of the church, he didn’t mind. Men like him, that had a certain, proclivity for the finer things in life, found that the cloth provided him with all that head desired. The church provided him food, shelter, land, station, respect, wealth, and though he would never outwardly admit it, women.

He liked hearing the sound of the blade tear through the soft flesh of a man’s neck. He liked the feel of his steal as it so easily pierced a through a soldier’s belly. He enjoyed the irony smell of dirt and blood that carried on the breeze in the morning, the day after a fight as they walked the battlefield looking for survivors. He even enjoyed watching his fellow soldiers as they mercifully put wounded warriors out of their misery as they scoured the grounds. While he preferred the adrenaline-driven feel of battle, watching a blade pierce through a squirming body and the life force slowly leak out was always a welcomed sight.

But he was nothing like the heathens. He was righteous. Though a God-fearing man, he was not religious, even though he was a priest. Birth order and circumstance forced him into a life of the cloth. Being born the youngest son of Lord Harrowing it was his birthright to join the church, just as it was his eldest brother Hannud to inherit their father’s land and title and his other brother, Harlund, to apprentice for a King’s Knight. Although he would have been more suited for the knighthood, Heahmund understood the importance of duty, and his duty demanded that he follow God and the church, no matter what he wanted personally.

If he were honest with himself, Heahmund would admit that his love of war far overshadowed his love of God. But, as a good Christian and most importantly a priest he had to make everything in his life about the concept of God. His flock wouldn’t know or care if he didn’t fully believe, only if he could make them believe. As long as they believed that he could save their immortal souls that were what was important. It didn’t matter that he was committing sins of his own by bedding every attractive woman in town – he would convince her that she could pray to the Virgin for forgiveness. Nor did it matter that he committed atrocities when he fought – he did all of these things in God’s name.

So why did he hate the Northmen so much? Everything they did out in the open, were the things he did in the dark and repented to God for in shame. Why should those Godless men have the right to live the way that he was meant to, if only he were so brave, and who were they to tell him that he wasn’t brave? What moral code did they live by? They didn’t believe in duty. They didn’t know what it was like to have to give up everything you wanted because it was what was expected of you. Heathens didn’t have a duty, and because of that, they lived in chaos. All of their chaos led to…freedom.

Too much of this freedom made these heathen Vikings think they could do whatever, whenever they pleased; take from whomever they saw fit. They had no rules. No governance. They needed law and order. They needed God. They were lawless, loveless men without a moral compass. And prisoner or not, he would be that morality for these poor sinners or kill them all.

@a-mess-of-fandoms @oddsnendsfanfics @waiting4inspiration @simsadventures @inforapound @dreamlesswonder86, @cornishdawn-blog @naaladareia, @alexa4040 @naaladareia; @youbloodymadgenius @ivarthebloodyking @xbellaxcarolinax

#ivar lothbrok #ivar #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #vikings fanfic #vikings fandom #vikings fanfiction #Viking GOT crossover fic #danerys targaryen #hvitserk #arya strak #The World Over #usershannygoatgruff #shannygoatgruff #shannyland #ivar's heathen army

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castiel-barnes · 4 years

Text

I'm here.

Pairing: Poe Dameron x fem!reader. (Y/n)

Summary: Poe and Y/n have been away from each other for a year fighting in separate parts of the resistance. They finally see each other back on their home planet of Yavin IV.

Warnings: fluff. Smut. Some mentions of injuries. Sad boy times.Swearing. 18+

Word count: 1.3k

Authors note: this is my first time writing smut so don't @ me.

It had been too long. Fighting this war. The loss of casualties, good innocent people, people working for the resistance and the first order. Too many lives were lost. But finally it had been won.

The base on Yavin IV was oddly quiet now. Only a few X-Wings remained there, because some of their pilots decided to settle there. Y/n had been there a while now on her home planet, wishing that Poe was alright and he would come home. He had to. He promised. Although the war had been won, she still done repairs on her X-Wing. Occasionally flying it around the planet, just for the thrill of it.

It felt lonely without him. She loved Poe and he loved her. But because of all the fighting going on in different places, they had to separate. It had been a year since they had seen each other. A year since they last kissed. Since then, Y/n had gotten scars both mental and physical. One more prominent laced her back, a large scar from a shrapnel wound. A battle that she would long to forget, but one that would stay with her for years to come.

Another day passes, and yet no Poe. Y/n was still working on her X-Wing, when she heard the engine of another X-Wing. She didn't pay attention to it, until she saw the pilot who stepped out of it. It was him. Poe. His beautiful curly hair, big brown eyes, his tanned skin. He was scanning the hanger for her, and then he saw her. That stupid smile plastered his face, Y/n dropped the wrench she was holding and froze for a moment. He was really there in front of her. After she came back from her momentarily paralysis, Y/n sprinted across the hanger to him. She didn't realise she was crying when she crashed into his warm embrace.

"I missed you so much Poe." She confessed, with a crack in her voice,

"Damn baby, I'm so happy to be back with you." Poe replied, kissing her softly on the lips. He nuzzled his head into her neck and took a deep shaky breath in. His head reappeared and he had a wet smile on his face.

"We won." Y/n exclaimed in a whisper, placing their foreheads together.

"Yeah. We did. We won this war." Poe let out with a light chuckle. They were back together, back in each others arms on their home planet. Poe helped Y/n pack up all the tools and headed to their quarters. It had been so long for either of them to be in each others presence, especially alone in their own home. Once they were in their quarters, Poe had started stripping off his flight suite. When Y/n noticed the scar on his bicep,

"Poe?" She questioned him with a sad look and rubbing her thumb over the scar. He looked down at his feet and faltered for a second before saying anything,

"We had to get on one of the star destroyers, and we was trying to find the spy. But I just couldn't avoid it." He said stumbling over his words. But Y/n just stopped him with a single touch to his cheek with her hand. Then she started to take her shirt off, and turned around to show her scar to him. It still looked fresh and sore.

"I couldn't avoid it either. There was a battle on Mandalore, and they ordered an air strike. We almost lost that one, until reinforcements came." She explained with a tear rolling down her face. Both of them knew that this war was one of the worst ever. Both them also knew that they could've lost the other, and in that moment something deep inside them clicked. A desire. A need for one another.

Poe leapt foreword and crashed his lips onto Y/n's. Her response to this action, was to jump up and wrap her legs around his waist. It wasn't long until they ended up on the bed, ripping off the rest of their clothes. He looked down at Y/n with lust filling his eyes, and started to rub her clit slowly whilst kissing her neck. A deep guttural moan escaped her lips, she had been waiting for this moment. As she grew slicker to his touch, she bucked his hand trying to get more relief. Poe smiled against her skin, and moved his fingers into her entrance. Slowly but surely he started to pump his fingers, which were now gliding easily.

"Oh baby you feel so good, I missed you so damn much" Poe praised, Y/n's head rolled back a little and let another moan out.

"F-fuck Poe. Please i need you in me. I can't wait anymore." She let out stuttering whilst Poe was still pumping with his fingers. Poe smiled and readjusted himself so he could enter his length. He placed the tip so it rested against Y/n's clit and she let out a small gasp at the contact that she had missed.

"You ready sweetheart?" He asked, Y/n smiled and nodded. Poe moved himself and then he went in.

"O-oh baby your so fucking tight for me. Maker I missed you." Poe proclaimed, and this time it was his turn to moan. The moan made his voice go a few octaves lower than his normal voice, and it was almost enough for Y/n to uncoil. Poe thrusted hard but slowly, savouring every movement and touch they have together. He felt Y/n come over his tip and it felt wonderful. It wasnt long after that, that he had come helping Y/n ride through her orgasm and he was going through his own.

After they had that amazing moment together, they laid there on the bed for a long while until it was now late at night. Eventually, they went to the refresher to shower. Although it was a small shower they still shared. Poe positioned Y/n in front of him, so he could help wash her hair. Such a small gesture which meant a bunch to them. He rubbed her shoulders and gently made his hands down her back to where her scar was. Poe softly traced his finger over it, but then Y/n flinched from the contact in that area and screwed her eyes shut with a small hitched breath.

"It's still sensitive isn't it?" Poe asked with slight concern, all Y/n could in return was a nod.

"How long ago was it?" He continued, there was a moment of silence.

"5 weeks ago" Y/n replied in a small voice, she heard the shakey breath come from Poe.

"I was scared Poe. I don't like thinking about it, cause I don't like the images that are still in my head" she confessed breaking down into tears. He wrapped his arms around her and started to reassure her.

"I know baby. I know. I am so sorry I wasn't with you, I feel so bad for leaving you. But I promise from now on, whatever happens if we end up having to fight evil again, or we just need to cry about our thoughts i will be right next to you" he said as he placed his chin on top of her head letting her cry into his chest.

They stayed there for a little bit, then decided to get dried off and crawl into bed. Once they were in bed, Y/n placed her head over Poe's heart so it could help lull her to sleep.

"Poe?" She asked making sure he was actually there, as if doing a reality check.

"I'm here. I'm here baby and I'm never going to let go of you." He replied kissing the top of her head. As they laid there in each others arms, they could finally go to sleep peacefully knowing that from now on they'll be together and won't have to worry.

#poe dameron #star wars #writing #oscar isaac

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writing-is-escapisim · 4 years

Text

Our Future. Our Family. - A Poe Dameron Pregnancy/Baby’s Daddy FanFiction (1)

Synopsis: It wasn’t supposed to happen. Not like this. Not now. But the force and fate had other plans for Poe Dameron and I.

Disclaimer: I do not own Poe Dameron or any of the Star Wars characters to appear in this story. They belong to Disney and Lucasfilm.

Words: 1,228

Warnings: None

Taglist: @galaxy-of-stories @shydragonrider @x-wingwarriorbbpoe8 @agalaxyofselfships @carietrekkie

Chapters:

(1) - You Are Here

(2)

Masterlist

~~~

I groaned as I stirred in my sleep, this was the second or possibly third morning I’d been awoken like this. Each morning was the same, I’d awaken with overpowering nausea, only to have to dash to the toilet of the wet room style en-suite bathroom of the room I shared on the resistance base, with my boyfriend, the resistance poster boy x-wing pilot, Poe Dameron.

Yep, Poe ‘I can fly anything’ Dameron was my boyfriend. How I’d gotten so lucky was beyond me, and Poe would say he was the lucky one, but what mattered was we were together and were very much in love with each other.

Nausea in my stomach once again got the better of me, as I sat up, swung my legs over the edge of the bed and burst into the bathroom, just making it on time as I emptied the contents of last night’s dinner into the toilet.

“Ugh,” I thought to myself, as I stood in front of it bent over. My head felt like it was swimming and I really did not feel so good.

It was at that moment that a hand placed itself on my back and another pulled my long bed head look, brunette hair back from my face.

“You alright there baby?” Poe’s voice came from behind me.

“I don’t feel so good my handsome flyboy” I whimpered. Feeling like I might faint at any moment.

Poe and I had many nicknames for each other, baby for me and handsome flyboy for him amongst them.

I then vomited some more, Poe holding my hair back and rubbing my back lovingly whilst I did so.

Thankfully it didn’t go on much longer, and when I was convinced that the sickness has passed, I attempted to step back only to stumble and be caught by Poe’s strong arms.

“It’s ok, it’s ok. I’ve got you” He reassured me.

With gentleness, he cleaned me up before guiding me back to the bedroom and sitting me down on the edge of the bed.

“Emma sweetheart, this is the third morning you’ve been like this. I really think you should go to the med bay.” He suggested, “If I’m honest I’m worried about you and I hate seeing you like this.”

“Ok, I’ll go. Just let me eat first”

Poe rolled his eyes and smiled that smile of his at me.

“Good to see you’ve still got an appetite”

I managed to smile back, and being the all-round amazing boyfriend he was, Poe made us some breakfast which we ate in-between bits of conversation. The two of us then getting ready and going off to get on with our day afterwards.

My job on the resistance base was being a personal assistant to none other than General Leia Organa herself.

Leia had been the one to introduce me and Poe and held us both in high regard, seeing us almost like a son and daughter.

On my way to her office, I head to the medical bay to get my sickness checked to, only to collide with someone on the way.

“Sorry!” I quickly apologised. Guilt washing over me like a tidal wave when I realised it was Leia.

“General, I am so so sorry. I was…otherwise mentally engaged there.”

She chuckled

“It’s ok Emma, you’re on your way to the med bay I see and quite right too.” She told me.

“How..how did you..of course, the force.” I realised

“If you need me I’ll be in the comms room and don’t worry, everything is going to be alright.”

There was a glint in her eyes to say she knew something I didn’t, I watched her walk off before I went to the medical bay.

It was at the medical bay that I got seen to by one of the medical droids that worked there.

I explained about the vomiting to it, it asked me a series of questions but one of them shocked me.

“When was your last bleed?”

That was when it dawned on me. I hadn’t had my monthly yet. In fact, it was abnormally late.

Not only that, but Poe and I had taken our relationship to another level mere weeks ago.

As I lay on the medical bed, contemplating what all this meant the droid ran some tests on me.

The results came back not long after, and all read the same thing.

I was carrying a child within me.

Poe’s child.

Our child.

No, no, no! This was not how it was supposed to happen. The evil tyrannical regime that was The First Order was supposed to be destroyed. Peace and justice were supposed to be restored to the galaxy, before Poe and I could settle down together on his home world of Yavin IV. Then the two of us could try for a family.

I ran a shaking hand through my hair as I tried to come to terms with this. I was scared and I felt sick.

It wasn’t that I wasn’t happy about being pregnant. I wanted children and I wanted children with Poe. Just not now.

The medical droid then dismissed me and said a scan appointment would be made for me in due course.

I quietly thanked it and left the medical bay to find Leia. I would, of course, have to tell Poe, but right now I needed Leia for female and motherly like support more than anything.

I found Leia in the comms room with one of her advisors going through some intel one of the squadrons had bought back from a recent mission.

She smiled at me when she saw me

“Ah Emma there you are, you got some answers in the med bay I take it?”

“General Organa, I really need to talk to you…alone.”

Handing back over a data pad she was holding to a nearby officer, the two of us headed to her office.

She sat me down at her desk and made me a tea, before sitting opposite me.

“Well Emma, first of all my congratulations are in order to you, and to Poe of course.”

“I..I don’t even know how to process this General Organa, let alone how to tell Poe. This. This is all so…”

“Sudden. Yes, given the timing and circumstances we find ourselves in. Though if you will allow me to speak to you, openly. Woman to woman. From a mother to a mother-to-be.”

“Of course General.”

“I sense many things through the force Emma. I sensed Ben in my womb, just as I sense the child in you now. So I knew you were with a child when we met earlier, and I stand by what I said. Everything is going to be alright. I know you’re scared right now, but trust me. Poe can have all the time off he needs so he can be there for you, and when the time comes you’ll have a safe place to give birth to your child. Besides I’m always here for you. As is Poe and your friends here.”

She squeezed my hand in hers.

“You can do this Emma, I have every faith in you and try to remember…the force will be with you…always.”

Leia’s words brought me comfort, and I felt somewhat better about my newly discovered pregnancy.

But one thing still remained…how to tell Poe.

#Poe Dameron #poe dameron fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #pregnancy fanfic #please leave feedback

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freddiesaysalright · 5 years

Text

My Man - Epilogue

A Ben!Roger Taylor x Reader Fic

Okay, I know I said My Man was over, but after some encouragement from @stupendousapricotstudentzipper I decided to post the epilogue I wrote for it. Thanks, friend!

Summary: Reader was a Broadway actress starring in a West End production of Funny Girl. She was widow, thanks to the Vietnam War, but it was well-kept secret. She also wanted everyone to think she didn’t care for rock music. She met Roger Taylor when he brought his date backstage. They didn’t start off great, but a party at Freddie’s turned them around and they became friends. After she was attacked by a director, Roger was there for her. After getting a role in a new show in order to stay in London, she got closure after her attack and was ready to take a big step with Rog. They married, and live together happily.

Word Count: 1K

Tag List: @bohemian-war, @kittygirlno, @rebelrebelyourefaceisamess, @rockyroadthepastryarchy, @goodoldfashionedloverboyy, @jennyggggrrr, @discodeacygotmorerhythm, @x1975sos, @slytherinxval, @cyndagoaway, @doingalrightt, @lovvliies, @hopefully-aesthetically-pleasing, @capsparrowtara, @they-call-me-peaches, @hyosong, @riddikuluslypotter, @orchideax, @shishterfackisback

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX Part X

This really is the last bit, I swear!

“Okay, Ophelia, open wide!” you cooed at your little daughter, bringing a spoonful of baby food to her mouth. She giggled a little as she swallowed it. “That’s a good girl!”

“Mummy, can we go outside now?” your other daughter, Darcy, asked.

“You’ve barely touched your lunch and I’m not finished feeding your sister,” you replied. “Just a few more minutes, darling.”

She groaned and began shoveling the rest of her macaroni into her mouth.

“Slow down,” you said. “You don’t want to choke.”

You turned back to Ophelia and fed her another mouthful. The front door opened and your daughters squealed with delight as Roger came into the kitchen. He smiled, but you could tell something was wrong.

“Daddy!” Darcy cried, clamoring out of her chair and flinging herself into his arms.

He picked her up and spun her around as she shrieked with mirth. He kissed her cheeks a rubbed his stubble against them.

“Daddy scratchy face! Daddy scratchy face!” he teased as she wriggled in his grasp.

“Da!” Ophelia interrupted, grabbing for him with her tiny fist. “Da!”

He set Darcy down and walked over to the high chair, kneeling in front of it. “How’s my little Ophelia? Being a good girl for Mummy?”

She smiled a wide, toothy (though she had few) grin and took hold of his hair. He pressed his lips to her hand, to her immense delight. Then she released him.

“Daddy, I wanna go outside and play,” Darcy said.

“Did Mum say you could?” he replied.

She huffed and looked at you. “Can I go? Daddy can come with me.”

You glanced over at her bowl of mostly eaten macaroni and nodded. “You can go now.”

She took his hand to lead him back out to the driveway, but he stopped her.

“Just a moment, I haven’t even said hello to your mother,” he said, turning to you. “Hello, my love.” He kissed you sweetly on the lips.

“Ewwww,” Darcy whined.

“Go,” you told him. “Ophelia and I will join you in a few minutes.”

He pecked your lips one more time before allowing Darcy to lead him out. It was summer and she loved to draw with sidewalk chalk. You finished up feeding Ophelia after a few minutes and then carried her out to join them.

Darcy was showing Roger all her artwork from the morning.

“That’s Uncle Brian,” she said, pointing to the smiley face she drew with wild, curly hair.

“Uncanny,” he praised.

“There’s Uncle John, you, and Uncle Freddie!” she continued.

You sat on the steps of your porch and watched. Roger’s face shifted as he looked at Darcy’s rudimentary depiction of Freddie. He quickly recovered as Darcy pressed on, telling him that she still needed to draw instruments, but she’d need his help to remember “how many drums,” as she put it.

Ophelia squirmed in your arms, eager to be a part of whatever her sister and father were doing. You set her on her feet so she could toddle over to them. Roger beamed at her approach, and handed her a piece of chalk. She sat down and scribbled the ground beside her, utterly thrilled to be doing it.

You smiled to yourself as the hot sun warmed your skin. But you were worried about Roger. Something was off, and you could tell.

“Okay, girls, you keep drawing, I’m gonna go sit with Mum for a bit, yeah?” he said. “Darc, help your sister.”

“Got it,” Darcy replied.

He jogged over and took a seat beside you. He kissed your cheek and pulled you into his lap.

“Roger!” you laughed. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I just love you so much,” he told you. “I want to tell you every day because you’re perfect every day.”

“I love you too,” you returned, looking deeply in his eyes. “What brought all this on?”

“Nothing,” he insisted. “Let’s just enjoy this. I want to hold you and watch our beautiful girls.”

You indulged him and said no more. Meanwhile, he peppered kisses across your face and neck. You took his hand and interlocked your fingers.

“Do you miss performing?” he asked suddenly.

You took a moment for that. It had been years since you’d been in a show. After She Loves Me ran for two years, you and Roger wanted a family, so you’d retired. You had missed it a lot at first. Sometimes so much you ached. But as you looked at your daughters - Darcy was guiding Ophelia’s hand to draw a microphone in Freddie’s hand - your heart swelled.

“I wouldn’t trade this for anything,” you told him.

“Good,” he said. “I just don’t want you to feel like...I dunno, you’re not completely and totally happy.”

“Roger, tell me what’s going on,” you said. “You know I’m happy being your wife and mother of your kids. Why are you talking like this?”

His eyes were suddenly shining with tears and he buried his face in your neck.

“It’s Fred,” he choked out. “He’s got it. The same thing that took Jack. He told us this morning.”

You gasped, you hand covering your mouth. Your brother had died of AIDS about a year after Darcy was born. You remembered how Roger held you through the night as you sobbed. Your parents wrote and had absolutely forbid you from attending the funeral. You couldn’t believe Freddie Mercury had the same thing. He always felt immortal to you. And if Freddie died, what would become of his family, Queen?

“I’m so sorry, Rog,” you said, cradling his face.

Without you noticing, the girls had walked over. Darcy looked concerned, and tilted her head with confusion. Ophelia crawled into his lap beside you.

“Daddy? Are you okay?” Darcy asked.

Roger rubbed his eyes and smiled at her. “Of course, lovie. C’mere.”

He pulled her close and wrapped his arm around her. He kissed each of you on the head. You tried to hold back you own emotion.

“I have everything I am ever going to need right here,” he whispered to you. “And I have never appreciated you more.”

That night, after you put the girls to sleep and got ready for bed yourself, Roger sat up, his brow furrowed.

“Y/N,” he said as you took your place beside him and snuggled under his arm. “Let’s try for a boy. What d’you think?”

“I think it’s wonderful,” you replied.

He kissed you.

“I love you so much,” he said.

“I love you too.”

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thewritingstar · 4 years

Note

Ah well were all at home better ask all 200 questions g, don't really know much about u

200 QUESTIONS???? ALRIGHT HERE YA GO.

hope you enjoy me spending an hour answering all of these :)

200: My crush’s name is: N/A 199: I was born in: 2000 198: I am really: nice 197: My cellphone company is: idk 196: My eye color is: Hazel, can turn dark brown or light green sometimes 195: My shoe size is: 8 194: My ring size is: 7 I think 193: My height is: 5′3 192: I am allergic to: penicillin 191: My 1st car was: Toyota 190: My 1st job was: Baskin Robbins 189: Last book you read: Suicide Notes (highly recommend) 188: My bed is: galaxy bedding and is currently on the floor in my bed fram cause my friends broke it... 187: My pet: Black cockapoo and a white cockapoo named Abby and Molly 186: My best friend: is a hoe 185: My favorite shampoo is: herbal essence color me happy 184: Xbox or ps3: I perfer Wii, Wii U or Nintendo switch 183: Piggy banks are: cute, Mine is a ducktales cup 182: In my pockets: nothing rn 181: On my calendar: nothing rn 180: Marriage is: a good thing but not a necessity for a happy life 179: Spongebob can: get it 178: My mom: is a queen 177: The last three songs I bought were? i only buy cds for my car so: Lover, Hozier, Blink 182 176: Last YouTube video watched: The Office deleted scenes 175: How many cousins do you have? 8 but I only see four of them and two of them are adults with kids so i consider them more of aunt and uncle figures 174: Do you have any siblings? One older sister 173: Are your parents divorced? Nope 172: Are you taller than your mom? Nope 171: Do you play an instrument? Nope 170: What did you do yesterday? Sat on ass and watched youtube

[ I Believe In ] 169: Love at first sight: ye why not 168: Luck: yes 167: Fate: yes 166: Yourself: kinda 165: Aliens: yes 164: Heaven: mmmm yes i guess 163: Hell: yes 162: God: uhhhhh yes and no, kinda indifferent 161: Horoscopes: yep 160: Soul mates: yesss 159: Ghosts: ye 158: Gay Marriage: WHO THE FUCK DOESNT BELIEVE IN THISS?? ITS REAL 157: War: think it does more harm than good 156: Orbs: ye 155: Magic: ye i wanna be a wizard

[ This or That ] 154: Hugs or Kisses: hugs 153: Drunk or High: drunk, i dont do drugs and i dont drink yet but ill prob get drunk 152: Phone or Online: oo i use both but Online i guess 151: Red heads or Black haired: Black hair 150: Blondes or Brunettes: Brunettes 149: Hot or cold: HOT 148: Summer or winter: Summer 147: Autumn or Spring: Both 146: Chocolate or vanilla: Vanilla 145: Night or Day: Day 144: Oranges or Apples: Oranges 143: Curly or Straight hair: I have straight hair but curly hair is also beautiful 142: McDonalds or Burger King: BURGER KING..I HATE MCDONALDS 141: White Chocolate or Milk Chocolate: MILK 140: Mac or PC: Pc 139: Flip flops or high heals:...High heels prob 138: Ugly and rich OR sweet and poor: SWEET AND POOR, IM ALREADY UGLY 137: Coke or Pepsi: NEITHER 136: Hillary or Obama: obama 135: Burried or cremated: cremated 134: Singing or Dancing: love both but maybe dancing rn 133: Coach or Chanel: Coach 132: Kat McPhee or Taylor Hicks: idk who they are 131: Small town or Big city: Big city, i grew up in a small town 130: Wal-Mart or Target: TARGET 129: Ben Stiller or Adam Sandler: Adam 128: Manicure or Pedicure: Mani 127: East Coast or West Coast: West Coast 126: Your Birthday or Christmas: Christmas 125: Chocolate or Flowers: Chocolate 124: Disney or Six Flags: DISNEY 123: Yankees or Red Sox: eww sports

[ Here’s What I Think About ] 122: War:....does more harm than good 121: George Bush:....dont know enough to say but im pretty sure he was an awful human 120: Gay Marriage: It should just be called marriage, just because you’re gay doesnt make it any less or any more, its equal to other marriages 119: The presidential election: 118: Abortion: Pro Choice, no one has the right to tell someone what to do with their body 117: MySpace: i never used it cause i was too young but i bet it was lit 116: Reality TV: its funny af 115: Parents: are nice if they care about their child but if they are abusive or horrible then they dont deserve respect 114: Back stabbers: should be stabbed 113: Ebay: its nice 112: Facebook: full of idiots and boomers 111: Work: a scam 110: My Neighbors: they fine 109: Gas Prices: A SCAM 108: Designer Clothes: a nice but really $200 for socks, no mama 107: College: SHOULD BE FREE 106: Sports: fun but no one needs to make that much money for throwing a ball 105: My family: i like them 104: The future: is wild and idk at this point

[ Last time I ] 103: Hugged someone: my mom like a few days ago 102: Last time you ate: at 11 today! 101: Saw someone I haven’t seen in awhile: 100: Cried in front of someone: my mom after i yelled at her 99: Went to a movie theater: i saw Onward when we were allowed outside 98: Took a vacation: went to disneyland last October 97: Swam in a pool: like almost two years sadly 96: Changed a diaper: when i was like 8 95: Got my nails done: never got them done because my mom wouldnt take me cause i was a ‘tom boy’ 94: Went to a wedding: never 93: Broke a bone: when i was three, my big toe 92: Got a piercing: my nose in January 91: Broke the law: i guess i sped the other day 90: Texted: literally as im doing this

[ MISC ] 89: Who makes you laugh the most: my friend 88: Something I will really miss when I leave home is: the silence of being alone 87: The last movie I saw: Princess and the Frog 86: The thing that I’m looking forward to the most: Moving for college 85: The thing im not looking forward to: 84: People call me: Deanna (real name), Dean, Star (what yall call me) ton of others 83: The most difficult thing to do is: idk 82: I have gotten a speeding ticket: never 81: My zodiac sign is: Aries 80: The first person i talked to today was: 79: First time you had a crush: Ive had 78: The one person who i can’t hide things from: my best friends 77: Last time someone said something you were thinking: my friends over ft 76: Right now I am talking to: no one 75: What are you going to do when you grow up: hopefully being an animator 74: I have/will get a job: at disney 73: Tomorrow: doing nothing 72: Today: doing nothing 71: Next Summer: hopefully not on quarantine 70: Next Weekend: nothing special 69: I have these pets: 2 doggos 68: The worst sound in the world: ICE SCRAPING OR MOUTH BREATHING 67: The person that makes me cry the most is: 66: People that make you happy: my friends 65: Last time I cried: few days ago 64: My friends are: my world 63: My computer is: a Dell 62: My School: is a community college 61: My Car: it goes 60: I lose all respect for people who: are bigots, dehumanize people, republicans 59: The movie I cried at was: Onward had me sobbing 58: Your hair color is: Brown rn 57: TV shows you watch: theres too many 56: Favorite web site: tumblr or youtube 55: Your dream vacation: every disney park 54: The worst pain I was ever in was: i think when i cut my finger or when i went to the hospital for my chest 53: How do you like your steak cooked: Medium rare 52: My room is: disney themed and my safe zone 51: My favorite celebrity is: Tara Strong 50: Where would you like to be: Disneyland 49: Do you want children: ehh maybe 48: Ever been in love: nope 47: Who’s your best friend: my neighbor that ive known since i was 4 46: More guy friends or girl friends: more girl 45: One thing that makes you feel great is: making cake 44: One person that you wish you could see right now: my cousin 43: Do you have a 5 year plan: not really 42: Have you made a list of things to do before you die: ye 41: Have you pre-named your children: kinda 40: Last person I got mad at: my mom 39: I would like to move to: La 38: I wish I was a professional: animator

[ My Favorites ] 37: Candy: Kitkat 36: Vehicle: Cars 35: President: 34: State visited: California, Nevada, Texas, Hawaii, 33: Cellphone provider: 32: Athlete: n/a 31: Actor: Colin O'Donoghue 30: Actress: Lana Parrilla 29: Singer: Joe Jonas, Taylor Swift 28: Band: Big Time Rush 27: Clothing store: Hot topic, Ross, 26: Grocery store: Safeway 25: TV show: Once Upon A Time or PPG 24: Movie: Princess and the Frog and Ratatouille 23: Website: tumblr 22: Animal: elephant 21: Theme park: disneyland 20: Holiday: Halloween 19: Sport to watch: hockey 18: Sport to play:..i do not play 17: Magazine: i dont read mags 16: Book: Kingdom Keepers 15: Day of the week: Friday 14: Beach: one i went to in Hawaii 13: Concert attended: Jonas Brothers 12: Thing to cook: chowmein and strawberry shortcake 11: Food: Chowmein 10: Restaurant: my fav Chinese restaurant 9: Radio station: I don’t listen to the radio 8: Yankee candle scent: Vanilla 7: Perfume: Vanilla 6: Flower: Rose or Larkspur 5: Color: Black or blue 4: Talk show host: umm i dont watch many but i guess Jimmy Fallon 3: Comedian: Jaboukie Young-White or John Mulaney 2: Dog breed: Pomeranian 1: Did you answer all these truthfully? ye

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mimik-u · 5 years

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Diamond Fall

Summary: In the battle against White Diamond, Yellow is possessed.

A/N: This is messy as all get out, but honestly, I just wanted to write some angst before "BOHAM" came out, lolol. Hope you enjoy!

AO3

They are monsters—oh, it’s true—but not like this.

Pink Diamond is splayed beneath them, still and pale in his Pearl’s arms. She pulls her long fingers over his cheeks, his curly hair, his gem, but he doesn’t so much as stir. A faint red line drips down his right eye.

The fusion yells at them.

They deserve it.

They’re monsters.

Dictators.

Rulers.

Tyrants.

Villains.

They are, they are, they are—the war machine tells them as much in so many words—but not like this, she wants to say, wants to scream, wants to cry.

Not for Pink.

Blue Diamond tilts her head slowly to the left, cerulean eyes clashing against gold, and Yellow’s sharp chin descends into a brutal nod—militaristic and ready.

“Lecture us later,” she tells the Garnet, nose upturned in both apparent and felt haughtiness (if haughtiness is a clever disguise for shame).

“Or don’t,” Yellow adds gruffly.

“It’ll take White a few moments longer to disconnect completely from Homeworld’s mainframe, so until then—”

“Run, hide, take shelter—get Pink off this damn planet.”

The other Diamond’s gloved hand is clenched into a fist only inches away from her own. Blue desperately wants to breach the space between them. Wants to temple their fingers and whisper final secrets into her willing ear. I’ve adored you. I’ve needed you. I’ve loved you. Wants to walk Homeworld’s long hallways with her as their tall shadows lengthen in the dusk. Wants another moment, another second of this eternity they’ve stolen together by believing in their own invincibility.

But that was just another lie, and this is the truth.

There is no more time.

There is only facing White and losing.

Blue Diamond’s hand remains by her side.

“We won’t be able to hold her for long,” she admits, “so make the most of what we can give you.”

Her gaze is on the boy, the gem, the Diamond, extinguished in the Pearl’s arms.

Beyond his eye, the star on his shirt has been torn through, too.

And so here are some more wants, clawing up inside her like a storm: she desperately wants to kiss Pink’s forehead one last time, wants to tell him so many things, while wishing he would forget others—wants to say sorry most of all—but at the slightest shift of her heavy robes, the little band of Crystal Gems stiffen into defensive positions. The Pearl’s defiant chin flick is her weapon in place of a spear.

“How do we know this isn’t a trick?” The Amethyst demands, her dark eyes narrowed into slits.

“Yeah, clods!” That truly mouthy Peridot chimes in. “Prove that you’re not gonna, like, like, backstab us while we’re trying to make a run for it!”

“Insolent—“ Yellow starts, but Blue raises a firm hand, silencing the deluge before it can even begin.

“Believe us, don’t believe us—on your gems be it,” she says coldly, “but know this, Crystal Gems. We love Pink more than we fear White.”

A beat.

A pulse.

Pink continues not to be awake.

“Then prove it,” the fusion snarls.

And so they do.

ii.

They prove it by hurling electricity and energy and everything else in their arsenal at this bastardization of the Diamond they once loved. White Diamond used to stretch out in the pools with them, her long neck craned backwards in a high, lilting laugh. She played Pink’s games, and she called Blue Moonlight without sneering it. She looked over Yellow’s reports on mining efficiencies, and they would strategize new methods of production together. She told them they were special.

She meant it back then.

And she didn’t—she absolutely did not—sacrifice her sanity to a dying Homeworld.

She was White Diamond, and she led it.

“Aren’t you two a little old for these foolish games?” The Diamond laughs as their attacks glance off of her as harmlessly as pebbles. She saunters forward on her impeccable heels in the very way a predator might play with its meal, one foot over the other, her translucent cape swaying behind her like an eager tail. Behind the pitiful wall Blue and Yellow form together with their bodies, stand White and Pink’s ships, gleaming in the reddish light of Homeworld. “Stand aside now, and perhaps I’ll be lenient with you later.”

The word lenient rolls across her elegant tongue before landing with the hard t.

Blue flinches, and Yellow growls, “Like you even know what that word means anymore! Look at you, White! You’re, you’re—”

White Diamond swoops down upon the half-sentence like a vulture, her teeth razor sharp. “I’m what now, Sunlight?”

Sunlight rolls and lands, too.

Venomously.

It is both a threat and a promise.

It is a taste of what’s yet to come for the disobedient Diamonds.

Yellow Diamond, for once in her eternal life, does not say a word.

“That’s what I thought,” White hums, a sickly smile spreading across her black lips like a scourge. Close enough now, she extends a clawed hand—slowly, as though she has all the time in the world—and places it under Yellow’s imperiously lifted chin. “Oh, you know, you’ve always been my favorite, Sunlight. So utilitarian and obedient. I draw the lines in our black sands, and you toe them oh-so-carefully like a good little general.” She throws an amused glance Blue’s way. “Moonlight, I adore you, too, of course… but you’ve been, ah, rather useless for the last six thousand years. And Starlight—dear me, Starlight…”

She drags her coal black eyes into the very direction that Blue and Yellow had deposited Pink and the Crystal Gems.

Of course she knows.

Of course.

The goddess shakes her magnificent head.

“I’m going to ensure that Starlight doesn’t see the sun for another six-thousand years more.”

Blue Diamond screams, and Yellow Diamond lunges—a great golden mass of brutality and anger and fear and bravery. Her eyes are electric with rage; lightning crackles across the sharp planes of her face.

(They are monsters—yes, Garnet, it’s true—but not like this. Not for Pink.)

She reaches for her creator’s gem.

She’s almost there...

... yes!

Fingers outstretched and closing upon the shining facets of White Diamond.

But in an instant faster than seems possible, White’s arm shoots upwards, and in another incomprehensible second more, she has apprehended her Sunlight, has her dangling in her claws.

She grabs Yellow’s long neck with one hand—eliciting an awful choking sound—and curls her fingers around the Diamond’s temples with the other. White energy begins to flood all the way down from her head to the train of her gown.

“Oh, Sunlight,” she says sadly, “I wish you wouldn’t have done that.”

iii.

“I didn’t want a puppet,” White Diamond murmurs so softly that it almost sounds like a dream, “but, dear me, Moonlight, I couldn’t have her charging at me like that, could I?”

Yellow Diamond screams as White pours herself into her, but Blue cannot hear a sound, because there is white light spewing from her mouth where noise should be, and her beautiful golden irises been erased, have been replaced with white, too. White, white, white—that’s all there is—and Blue is on her knees, scrabbling as close as she can to Yellow without looking at her face directly.

She grabs her hand, like she should have done before—before, when it was not too late, before, when the world around them wasn’t crumbling to dust.

But Yellow does not squeeze back.

Her fingers are in tangles of agony.

She screams and screams and screams some more; Blue is almost relieved that she can’t hear.

“Cease this madness, White!” She gasps. It’s all she can do. “Please. Go back to your altar! Release Yellow! It’s pointless to do this to her! Pink’s already gone!”

White’s own irises are eradicated, too, but she sneers at Blue anyway, her black lips parting to reveal threateningly perfect teeth.

“Go back?!” she laughs. “Go back! Are you a broken record, dear? Is that all you want to these days—to go back? I mean, it’s a commendable goal, but, Moonlight, there is no unpressing the button now! There’s no unringing the bell! Starlight left us, and now she has returned, and you have attacked me, and now I’m about to direct Sunlight to attack you! Oh, the circle of life! Isn’t it lovely?”

Grasping for coherent words feels like gasping for air.

She comes up with nothing.

She’s suffocating.

Yellow Diamond wrenches her fist away from Blue’s hand violently, clenching it closer to her side.

“We’re your Diamonds, White!”

“You disobeyed me,” she snarls immediately, her facade breaking and then reforming just as quickly as it had shattered. The ugly lines in her face rearrange themselves back into that even uglier smile. “And so I will not forgive you.”

The light in White Diamond’s eyes suddenly fades, leaving nothing behind but blackness.

She plucks her fingers from Yellow’s temples, one by one by one, and smiles some more.

“Sunlight, do be a dear and make sure Blue Diamond is distracted for me.”

Yellow’s sharp chin tilts downwards to where Blue is still on the ground, her lank hair falling in curtains around her face.

Once upon a time, she would have helped her up.

Would have sang to her.

Would have gotten a Pearl to sing to them both.

Once upon a time, cerulean eyes would have met gold, and all of the hard feelings between them would have melted like rivers.

Yellow Diamond’s eyes are white and glowing.

A snarl cuts through her face, transforming all of the harsh lines in them into open wounds.

“Yellow…”

But the Diamond is unseeing and unhearing.

A bastardization like the bastardization who made her.

A toy.

A killing machine.

White Diamond snakes between them, her long cape brushing Blue Diamond’s cheek like a kiss.

Or a sting.

Or a knife.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go capture a star.”

iv.

“When we were younger Diamonds, we used to fight over who would get to colonize a planet first,” Blue Diamond whispers, slowly moving backwards, her bare feet brushing against rubble and debris, metal and dust. “You used to call me a clod for getting to White before you did, and I’d tell you that your language was uncouth enough to belong to a mere Quartz.”

Yellow Diamond advances as Blue retreats, boot over heavy boot, sure and steady, a miraculous combination of shiny limbs and angular lines to behold.

But her eyes are not golden.

Stars, they’re not even close.

“And when we turned three-thousand, you took me to Andromeda, where we watched a star explode some millions of lightyears away. That was the first time you took my hand, Yellow.” She slipped her glove off, and she gently captured Blue’s hand, and in that moment, that carved out fraction of eternity, they discovered that their hands were precisely the same size. They built a temple between their fingers as the supernova bruised the sunset blue; they laid their palms upon the gently swaying grass and thought they would never die. “You said it was entirely possible that we were built for each other—that we were equals, partners, goddesses, and queens.”

Blue’s foot clips a jagged piece of exploded floor, and she collapses backwards onto the landing platform before she can find purchase. Shards and fragments knife into her skin, her spine, her elbows, her hair.

Yellow Diamond stops in front of her, her boots scuffing hard against the stone.

Her face is disinterested.

The real Yellow could never be so detached.

Her plump lips are set into a cold, hard line.

“And then Pink came to us! Pink!” Blue exclaims, hysteria climbing up the rungs of her throat as the Diamond slowly bends down, her fingers twisting tightly into the heavy fabric covering Blue’s chest. “She used to perch on your shoulder like a little bird and hum songs into your ear, and because of this, you were always the best at guessing the hymns she sang underwater. How you laughed. How she did!”

Blue feels herself slowly being excavated from the ground, drawn up into the air with an iron fist.

“You prefer sunny planets to rainy ones because the light reflects handsomely on your armor.”

Shards fall like rain from Blue Diamond’s ascending body, and Yellow's pupiless gaze smolders like the sun.

“Every time I called for you, and even the times I didn’t—which was more often because I’m quite stubborn—you were there for me anyway. You found me at altars, at the zoo, on Earth, and in her chambers. You tried so hard to be cruel, but your tiny kindnesses leaked out anyway.”

They’re at eye level again; Blue’s feet find tentative purchase against the platform, her toes dancing against rubble, but Yellow, possessed and self-possessed, doesn’t let go of her robes, her white stare boring into her emptily.

Every harsh line in her face says nothing of the memories that bequeathed them to her.

“I hated you for trying so hard to save me.”

Her free hand begins to glow with electricity, lightning sparking off her fingertips.

“I loathed that you believed I was worth saving.”

And that electric hand curls into a fist, and that same fist rears back at a deadly angle.

The trajectory is Blue Diamond’s chest, is the diamond pulsating at her very center.

If it the blow lands, Blue will become nothing, a stone clattering to the dusty ground.

“But stars, you loved me,” she murmurs, reaching out and touching Yellow’s cold cheek. The Diamond flinches—Blue's not sure if it's against her will or White's. She doesn't move her hand. Her thumb brushes against the single tear dripping from a glowing eye. It spills over her cerulean skin and down the slender lines of her wrist. It snakes around her arm like a bracelet. “You kept trying anyway.”

“Do it, Sunlight.” White Diamond’s command issues from behind Yellow’s teeth.

It’s blasphemy.

“I love you, Yellow.”

It's the truth.

As Yellow Diamond’s hand hurtles through the air, Blue pools energy into her palm, the tips of her fingers glowing hot.

The world explodes around them in a burst of white light.

They are binary stars falling—orbiting one another and crashing all at the same time.

The drop from the platform to the abyss below is approximately 300 feet, and the landing in store from them is full of jagged rocks and broken injectors, shards and debris.

But they’re Diamonds.

Invincible.

Immortal.

They won’t shatter…

… but they won’t survive either.

Not that the difference matters to Blue Diamond in the brief eternity between the flight and the fall.

Death is just a word, but Yellow Diamond, suspended above her, is so achingly real that it hurts to even look at her. There are scratches on her impeccable armor and wind fingers in her hair, dividing every perfectly stiff strand of her pointy coiffure. And her eyes—her eyes are golden again, widened in fear and anger and shock and grief. They search wildly for understanding, something to cling to, something solid to rationalize, and eventually, as they always do, land on:

“Blue!”

“Yellow!” She laughs hysterically as the wind whips her hair all around her. She is a maelstrom of emotion. Silver strands fly into her mouth.

“What the hell are you laughing about?” The other Diamond shouts, extending her arms outwards. Her hands find Blue’s waist, and with panicked deftness, draws them together.

They fit like puzzle pieces.

Even their diamonds are touching, binary stars defying gravity to collide.

“Nothing,” she laughs again, the sound long and feral. Yellow stares at her incredulously as the light of Homeworld’s stars falls further and further away. “Or, I suppose, everything. Those two items tend to be one in the same.”

“We’re going to die," she says, so matter-of-factly, all disbelief in the face of Blue’s absurd amusement. Her hands have found the small of her back, and they’re solid there, foundations to lean upon.

Blue's laughter dies away, suddenly snatched up by the wind.

They're falling fast.

It feels like they've been falling all of their lives.

“But we’ll come back,” she murmurs, gently pressing her chin into the crook between Yellow’s neck and shoulder, “and then we’ll save Pink, and then…”

“And then?”

Yellow Diamond’s armor stiffens on top of her.

The ground must be close.

Death is just a word, but Blue closes her hooded eyes against it anyway.

“And then… we wait and see.”

#bellow diamond #blue diamond #yellow diamond #white diamond #s: steven universe #mimik-u #hskjafhaks #angst angst angst angst angst

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dauntless-dragayn · 6 years

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YA BOOKS RECS

Okay -cracks knuckles- im gonna rec yall some YA books because there are so many ive found over the years

@windycube this is for u

First of all ofc I gotta put in a word for Rick Riordan, this man literally raised me He has a LOT of series but i recommend Magnus Chase and The Gods of Asgard the most, one because its meant for slightly older audiences (the mc Magnus is 16/17) and two because its wAY more diverse than his older stuff (which i still love, dearly) like Percy Jackson and the Olympians and better written than the follow up series to PJO, Heroes of Olympus MCGA is about a kid who finds out he’s the son of a Norse god and that those gods are still around and kickin, but the world is ending aaaand him and his new friends have to stop it. Sounds cheesy and super typical but, Magnus is pretty different from most protags of this kind of stuff. He’s a healer not a fighter, and his strongest traits are compassion and teamwork rather than brute strength and violence (tho there is a lot of that. Violence. Kind of par for the course. You’ll see)

NEXT is Michael Grant, who Windy already mentioned. I cannot stress enough, how much I worship Grant’s story writing capabilities. If you want dark shit, READ HIS WORK. What a lot of people don’t realize is that he helped KA Applegate write the Animorphs series and.. Thats some of the darkest kids fiction out there. Grant wrote the GONE series, which is about a town where all of the adults (over like, 15 I think? Sorry its been a while) disappear and a giant impenetrable barrier appears around a small beach town. Chaos and horrifying violence ensues. This series will depress you even as you can’t stop reading it. The characters are gold. The twists are even better. He also wrote BZRK which is a trilogy set in the future where war is fought on the nanotech level. Admittedly its been years so I dont remember much, but its also very solemn and very unique. I’d say 16+ (teen protags)

Maggie Stiefvater. Another personal hero of mine, her prose is just.. Beautiful. Poetic. Magical. She has a few series and some novels. My favorites are The Raven Cycle (series of 4), All The Crooked Saints (novel) I cant even.. Explain what theyre about. Magic surrealism, young love, the darkness of the human mind.. Theyve got everything. If you’re intrigued please please give them a shot. 16+

Alright alright now for some lesser known stuff.

If you’re into vampires.. Monster stories… surviving high school… please for the love of gods, read The Chronicles of Vladimir Todd. I seriously don’t understand how this series isnt more popular. Zac Brewer is wonderful, I love him and his work sm. Tho, I think since this series is old its still under his deadname (Heather Brewer) Basically it’s about Vlad, a half human half vampire kid, dealing with high school bs but also being hunted down for his hybrid status and.. gAH its so good. Plenty of blood. The end has casualties and still makes me cry. Pls read it im begging you

If you’re a furry and/or into badass well written female protags.. Read Cry of the Icemark. ;3 It’s got magic, warfare, and have I mentioned Thirren the mc is BADASS????? (and no, its not all furries. But there is a race of leopard people whom i love dearly) By Stuart Hill, its one of my alltime favorites. I need to reread it again

Another older one is Pendragon. It is fuckin LONG, at 10 books total, about a ‘normal’ kid named Bobby Pendragon who finds out there are other dimensions in danger and that if they fall into chaos, the entire universe will. So he and a few other ‘Travelers’ set out to fix them even as a demon Traveler tries to fuck up their progress. Starts with Bobby at 14 but sees him grow up. Again.. I know it sounds super typical but what I love is that Bobby grows bitter. He’s not a golden keep saving the day sort of protag. I wont spoil; just check it out. By DJ MacHale

I have a feeling yall dont want to hear about romance but im a hoe for it so. Legend is a trilogy by Marie Lu set in a dystopian world (which im also a hoe for) where America is divided into two warring nations. One protag is Day, a poor thief who steals to keep his family alive. The other is June, who’s the best up and start soldier the Republic has. She’s pretty rebellious tho, so she can’t be reigned in until she’s sent to track down a murderer.. Day. excepthedidntactuallydoit Star crossed lovers. Fucked up America. My kinda tea.

If you want more dystopia that doesnt suck (because bOY a lot of it does) I’ll put in a word for Divergent. You’ve probably heard of it. Oh That Hunger Games Bootleg except not. Also it’s a trilogy but who cares. The first one is my only love

Switching gears back to romance uwu Carry On by Rainbow Rowell is gAY AND MAGIC! There’s a reason why everyone raves about it; best written romance I’ve ever had the pleasure to read. And I’ve read a lot. Plus, it’s getting a sequel in a few years! She also wrote Fangirl, as well as Eleanor and Park, two adorable novels.

Switching gears completely, lemme talk about Leigh Bardugo. She wrote Six of Crows, which is this ABSOLUTELY AMAZING heist/crime/action duology. Very diverse cast. A few lgbtq+ kiddos. She also wrote the Grishaverse series but I have not yet gotten around to reading it. From what Ive heard tho its just as good - a lot more about magic and monsters tho (set in the same universe!)

Wow okay im gonna stop because this is getting long but

TLDR;

basically any of Rick Riordan’s series

GONE by Michael Grant

anything by Maggie Stiefvater

The Chronicles of Vladimir Todd by Zac Brewer (who used to be known as Heather Brewer)

Cry of the Icemark by Stuart Hill

Pendragon series by DJ MacHale

The Legend trilogy by Marie Lu

Divergent by Veronica Roth

anything by Rainbow Rowell

Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo

thank you for reading my book nerd ramblings holy shit

#YA #YA recs #YA lit #dragon speaking

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stillthewordgirl · 6 years

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LOT/CC fic: Wager

Sara and Leonard definitely have some issues to work out since his return, but it's been an adjustment for the entire Legends team. And they, of course, deal with that in their own unique way. (Set during and not long after "Me vs. You.")

Yeah, I love this 'verse. Here's another one! Please note that it's set partly during the, err, events of "Me vs. You" and partly afterward. Many thanks to LarielRomeniel for the beta.

Still with my own weird take on who Charlie might be (I want Mick to befriend a dragon, OK?) and the Constantine & Gideon 'ship no one asked for! (Hellship? Magicship?) Can also be read here at AO3.

Find the series here at AO3.

“Aw, come on, luv.” John Constantine leans back against the table in the rec room and looks beseechingly up at the ceiling. At least, Mick thinks he’s trying to look beseeching. If anything, that sort of expression came less easily to the warlock’s face than to Mick’s own. And that was saying something.

“Just a ‘yes’ or ‘no.’” Constantine, apparently forgetting who he’s talking to, absentmindedly sticks his unlit cigarette back in his mouth. “To settle the bet. That’s pretty innocent, right?”

Mick, who’s sprawled on one of the room’s sofas, snorts. He can nearly hear Gideon’s sigh. For an AI, she’s got more personality than a lot of the people he’s known. Of course, after more than three years, he’s known her longer than he’s bothered knowing a lot of people. Er, more normal-like people.

“Mr. Constantine,” Gideon says almost primly. “As I have told you before, that is, quite frankly, none of your business.”

That’s about the fifth time she’s told the warlock that. Mick snorts again. Constantine glances his way and flashes a quick grin around his cigarette. Zari, perched on one of the stools at the table, just shakes her head. Nate mutters something, and Ray gives him a look.

Charlie has long since wandered away, uninterested in human drama—or, Mick thinks to himself, more uncomfortable with it. He gets it. He often feels the same, after all, the motives and reactions and feelings of so-called normal people a mystery.

Well. They’re none of them particularly normal, here, if normal is even a thing that really exists. (He’s pretty sure, these days, that it isn’t.)

Still, the human drama here is between two of the people he lov....he likes most in the world. Two people he wants to be happy...and to stick around. Blondie, he’s pretty sure, isn’t going anywhere; this is her ship now and she’s captain more than assassin, even if she’s still just as badass as ever.

Snart...well.

“I can’t believe this,” Nate mutters to himself, getting up from his own seat. “It’s more likely she pushed him out an airlock. Haven’t you heard them since Snart come back on board? I don’t think they’ve exchanged two words without fighting.”

Mick frowns. Pretty’s having a hard time dealing with Snart’s presence on the Waverider, and he supposes he can sorta understand, even though he’s still ridiculously pleased about it himself.

“He’s not the one you saw,” he tells Nate tersely. “As part of the Legion.” He really hates these moments when loyalties old and new clash. For that reason alone, he hopes Constantine wins his wager. Could solve a lot of problems.

Or create new ones. But right now, he’d be OK with new ones.

The historian paces to the other side of the room, then turns, starting back at him.

“Isn’t he?” Pretty demands. “Isn’t he the exact same person? Just from a few years later in the timeline? What makes you really think he’s changed that much?”

“Other than the fact he’s been working with us for a month?” Zari asks, even as Ray stands up, too, distress on his face. Mick’s just trying to not to show that the words hurt, taking a pull of his beer as he tries to figure out what, if anything, he wants to say.

He should have left with Charlie.

“Snart was...is a hero,” Haircut speaks up staunchly to Pretty. “I told you what happened. He sacrificed himself—or he thought he was going to, anyway—to free time. And even before that, he saved our lives lots of times. Russia...Salvation...”

“Could say the same about me,” Mick cuts in, once he decides what he wants to say, before anyone else can distract him. He looks right at Nate. “How d’you know I’ve changed? I was...I was a lot worse than Snart, really. Once.” He shrugs uncomfortably. He is, now that he thinks about it, pretty sure Nate has no idea about Chronos. But even before the bounty hunter, he’d been…he’d done a lot of bad things. It’d been Snart who kept him in line.

Nate’s angry look fades, a little. For a moment, he looks pretty uncomfortable, too.

“You...you’ve proven it,” he says. “Lots of times.”

“So did Snart. You just weren’t there t’see most of it.”

“Will you all shut up?” Constantine asks, turning to survey the room with a world-weary eyeroll. He glares around indiscriminately, then takes his cig out of his mouth and looks back up.

“Gideon, luv,” he explains again. “All I want to know if they’ve snogged yet.” He puts the cigarette back in his mouth. That thing must be disgusting by now. “Or shagged.”

Nate snorts now. “Sara’s got better taste than that,” he says with disgust. “He’s like, 20 years older than her…”

“Good bit less than that, Pretty.”

“And she gained two years in Nanda Parbat, and he lost three in the timestream…”

Zari laughs like she can’t quite hold the humor back. “You...” she says, pointing at Nate, “...have got some weird ideas of good taste.”

Haircut gives her a rather wide-eyed look. “You think Snart’s good looking?” he asks, a bit plaintively. “I mean, I guess he sort of is. If you like that bad-boy type...”

Zari looks thoughtful. “Mm. Those eyes...” she muses. “He’s not my type. But he does have pretty eyes.”

Pretty snorts again. Mick shakes his head. Constantine smirks.

After they’d all beat their hasty retreat from the confrontation on the bridge, collecting down in the rec room without even discussing it, no one had wanted to talk about the elephant in the room at first. Ray had tried to start “Star Wars: Episode I,” nearly gotten booed out of the room, and conceded to skip ahead to Episode IV. (“Time for the prequels later, when we have some booze in us,” Mick had advised him.)

But eventually—maybe it was the Han and Leia banter, maybe it was the fact that the divide of sorts in their team…in their family…was on all their minds—talk turned back to Sara, and Snart, and how things were before (via the two remaining who remembered) and how things were now.

It had been Constantine (of course, Mick thought) who said it.

“One good bottle of whiskey that the two of ‘em are snogging it out right now,” he’d said, feet on the low table in front of one of the sofas, hands folded behind his head, eyes on the TV. “Or better yet, shagging it out.”

Nate sprayed a mouthful of rum and coke over the carpet. “What?”

Constantine had given him a lazy glance. “Seriously, mate? Those sparks? Really? You think you don’t get that kinda…” He waggled a hand. “…back an’ forth…without sexual tension? In spades?”

Haircut had stared at him…and then started nodding. “Ooooh. Ooooh, damn. All those times they were ‘playing cards’…”

“They were playing cards,” Mick cut in. “Not like they weren’t headin’ toward…somethin’…but they weren’t there yet.”

Hell, if Snart was gonna fall for anyone, he’d be happy if it was Blondie. But Mick also knew too much to ever think it’d be easy.

Not that he’d tell Haircut or the rest of ‘em that.

Charlie, who’d been raptly taking in the adventures of Luke & Co., had frowned, turning around in her seat.

“They were going to mate?” she asked Zari, who choked on her iced tea. “Would there not have been hatch…” She thought a moment. “…babies?”

It was hard to hold back a laugh, but Mick did it. He knew that Charlie hated feeling like a fool for questions that seemed perfectly reasonable to her. He’d been there.

Zari (after darting a look at Mick that said someone was going to pay for making her explain the human facts of life to the shapeshifter) started a low-voiced conversation that had Charlie staring at her in amazement.

Haircut, who apparently figured he didn’t want to touch that one with a 10-foot pole, decided to act like he hadn’t heard. (As did Nate, Constantine, and Mick.)

“Ooooh,” he said sadly. “And then Snart died. Um. ‘Died.’” He made air quotes. “And even though he’s back, that’s a lot to unpack.”

Constantine groaned. “It’s not that complicated!”

But it was.

Constantine had stood by his assertion—and his wager: the others could acquire him some quality whiskey if he was correct. Nate had declared that the far greater odds were on Sara kicking the thief off the team—and probably off the ship, possibly while it was still in the timestream. The rest of them (barring Charlie, who took this all in with an expression of great dubiousness) were somewhere in the middle.

Mick, personally, wasn’t sure if Sara, even now, or Snart were...what was the phrase he’d heard Leo use once? emotionally healthy...enough to mend their fences that fast. But then, he supposed that wasn’t really a requirement for what Constantine was talking about. Frankly, he figured, it’d probably do them good to bang and then talk it out.

Which meant it probably wouldn’t happen.

“Sara won’t just kick ‘im off the team,” he said finally. “Not after…everything. An’ Snart’s prob’ly too stubborn to jus’ leave.” He hoped. “Best case, they manage to talk long enough to work some of their shit out. They do that…” He shrugged, then took another drink. “…maybe they hook up. Do ‘em both good.”

Constantine pointed at him. “Need something more concrete for a wager, mate.”

Damned Brit did like his wagers. Mick considered. “Going to say they did talk,” he said finally. Optimism doesn’t come easily to him, far from it, but hell, he’s got Snart back after three years of his partner being dead. Who knows what’s possible. “Things get back to norm….to what they were, once, w’them…I give ‘em a month before they fall into bed with each other.”

Zari cast him an interested look. “What were they?” she asked. “This is the first I’m really hearing of this.”

Mick thought about it a moment. “Friends,” he said eventually. “An’ it’s not like Snart ever had many of those, so that’s sayin’ somethin’ in itself.” He took a drink. “Don’ think I’ve ever seen ‘im take to someone like that before. Not in a long, long time, anyway.”

Anyway, Haircut had agreed that if Sara and Snart would just talk, the odds of something happening were high. Pressed for specifics, he’d decided on three weeks for his deadline. Zari decided to put her wager on five weeks before something—whether shagging, snogging or kicking off the ship—happened. (And cupcakes rather than whiskey if she won.)

Charlie, vaguely horrified and slightly intrigued by human mating habits, had already beat a hasty retreat. Mick didn’t blame her.

Now, however, having watched their way through the entire original trilogy and enough of Episode One to get a buzz on (for some of them, anyway), the others have all wandered off too. Constantine had actually fallen asleep on the sofa, head leaning against the back, snoring, but then woke with a snort, shaken his head and climbed to his feet, winked at Mick, and headed out, presumably to the room he was using as his own. Mick trusted Gideon to let someone know if the warlock decided to try to…interfere with…Sara and Snart.

Even Constantine couldn’t be that stupid.

Mick relishes the relative silence for a few moments, watching the duel of Obi Wan and Qui-Gon and Darth Maul on screen, then turns off the TV.

He sits for a moment, then raises his voice.

“Gideon?”

“Yes, Mr. Rory?” The AI sounds serene. She and Mick get along pretty well these days.

“Jus’…jus’ let me know if I need to referee or get anyone to the medbay, OK? Otherwise, better if they just have it out.” He takes one last drink. “One way or another.”

“Of course, Mr. Rory.”

One of the nice things about being in the timestream is that they generally get to sleep in. Mick, who is not a morning person at the best of times, appreciates that. Yawning the next “morning,” by ship’s time, he saunters down the hallway, barely sparing a moment for the varied considerations of the night before. That’s how he keeps going. You keep moving forward.

Then he turns into the galley.

He knows the minute he claps eyes on them.

Snart’s across the counter from Blondie, but he’s leaning toward her, nearly draped over the surface, hands clasped in front of him and his eyes fixed on the captain. Sara’s on the other side, but she’s watching him in return, and there’s the tiniest of smiles hovering around her lips.

Mick’s never been the best at feelings. Far, far from it. But he’s known Snart for more than 30 years, and he knows what a Leonard Snart who’s gotten laid looks like. (Although given how picky Snart is, it’s been a lot less often than it could have been.)

Bingo.

He’s never been happier to lose a bet.

They both look at him as he pauses in the doorway, and Mick knows immediately that they know he knows. They’re…OK, fuck, he’ll think it, the two people he loves most in this world. How does he handle this?

By pretending nothing’s changed, he figures.

So, after pausing for just a moment, Mick simply grunts, moving into the galley and over toward the replicator. Once he has his coffee, he eyes Sara and Snart a moment, taking a drink.

They’re now wearing almost identical smirks. Mick’s not sure whether to be appalled or amused. Both, he decides. The Brit is going to be insufferable.

Unless…

He regards them; they regard him. Then Mick grunts again.

“British is gonna be really annoying,” he advises. “So…maybe tone it down a bit?”

Sara chuckles, taking a drink of her own coffee. Snart lifts an eyebrow.

“Why, Mick,” he drawls. “To what are you referring?”

And then he actually laughs as Mick gives him a weary look in return

Mick can’t remember the last time he heard Snart laugh. It’s a good sound. But he merely rolls his eyes, watching them.

Snart tilts his head and looks at Sara, who does much the same in response. Whatever they decide in that moment of wordless communion, the captain nods, looking at Mick.

“Nothing’s changed,” she says firmly, taking another drink of coffee.

Mick gives her a look of disbelief. Snart’s smirk grows a little. Sara, catching the expressions, smirks a little too, but then sighs.

“Really,” she says, leaning against the counter. “It’s not…we’re not…” But then she looks at Snart again, and oh damn, they’re back to the eye sex.

The moment stretches, just enough to have Mick wondering if he should leave, but then Sara seems to catch herself, shaking her head. She smiles a little, then looks at him.

“OK,” she says. “So maybe some things have changed. But some of it’s just between us…” She waves a hand between herself and Snart. “…for now. Anything to do with the team…well, we all have to sort out that dynamic.” Her smile grows. “I think it’ll be for the better.”

Well, then. “Damn right,” Mick says softly. Then he holds up his coffee mug, in a sort of wordless toast.

After a moment, Snart and Sara hold up theirs, too, clinking them together before they drink.

And Mick hasn’t been this happy in a long time.

So, of course, that’s when Constantine has to appear in the doorway.

He’s rumpled, as always, though he’s not, for once, wearing his coat. Given that he hates mornings with a passion that surpasses even Mick’s, it’s a little surprising that he’s up and moving. But Constantine’s eyes brighten as he takes in the three of them standing there…and, OK, this should be interesting.

“Ah,” he says happily, strolling into the galley. “So, did you two shag or what?” He claps his hands together and leans against the counter. “Inquiring minds want to know.”

Snart gives him a withering look. Sara lifts an eyebrow.

“Excuse me?” she says mildly.

“You heard me, luv.” The warlock is unrepentant. “I have a wager on this. Tell.”

Sara considers him. Then she shrugs.

“Nothing to tell,” she says, turning away to rinse out her coffee mug. “Now, where were we going next? You said something about werewolves in Victorian London?”

Constantine gives her a disapproving look. Then he transfers his gaze to Snart.

“What about you, handsome?” he asks, leaning toward the other man. “You the type to snog an’ tell?”

Snart considers him, too. Then he shrugs as well.

“Like the lady said,” he drawls. “Nothin’ to tell.”

Constantine actually pouts. Mick keeps his own face empty as the warlock glances at him and then sighs.

“All right, all right,” he says. “But the truth will out.” The pout fades into a bit of a good-natured leer. “So, you both like blonds, eh? Good to know.”

Sara shakes her head at him; Leonard ignores him. The captain gives Mick another quick smile and then steps around the counter, heading for the door.

“John, let me know when you’ve got this particularly juvenile line of inquiry out of your system,” she tosses over her shoulder. “So I can set a course. Mick, Len, I’ll see you later.” And then she’s gone, out into the corridor.

“Len?” Both of Constantine’s eyebrows are up. “Well now, mate, that’s new.”

Snart finishes his own coffee and rises with alacrity to retreat. Mick can’t really blame him.

“Not particularly,” he drawls. “Mick, if you still want me to make the same tweaks to your gun that I made to my new one, I’ll drop by the fabrication room in about an hour.”

Mick nods. Snart casts him another lurking smile, then saunters out. He doesn’t head in the same direction as Blondie, though, which is probably good, because Constantine is watching avidly. (Although maybe he’s just admiring Snart’s ass; Mick can’t quite tell.)

After a moment of silence, the warlock sighs, turning his gaze on Mick, who’s still silently drinking his coffee.

“I will find out,” he promises, then glances upward. “Gideon?”

“Mr. Constantine?” The AI’s voice is wary. Mick can’t blame her.

“This could be so simple, luv. Just tell me? I’m sure I can find some way to make it worth your while.”

If Mick didn’t know better (and maybe he doesn’t, to be honest), he’d swear Constantine was trying to flirt with the AI. Gideon’s pause is longer than usual, and who knows? Maybe it’s working? Mick waits.

Finally, she speaks. “Mr. Constantine, I believe the correct response, in your own vernacular…”

Constantine grins, leaning forward, winking at Mick and listening avidly.

“…is ‘sod off.’”

Mick can’t resist laughing out loud at the look on the warlock’s face. This is, he thinks, going to be interesting.

And he’s just fine with that.

#rebuilding bridges #captain canary #legends of tomorrow #sara lance #leonard snart

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