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soulessjourney · 4 months

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T'ill I Go Blind

Paring: Astarion x fem!DurgTavReader

Word count: 2.2k

Summary: When Gortash reveals details about your past relationship, Astarion refuses to entertain any of it.

Warnings: OOC Astarion, angst, mentions of truama, mentions of death, jelous Astarion, Gortash, fluff, Humor, Astarion of course making a few out of pocket comments, Scared Astarion

A/N: It's basically cannon at this point that Gortash and the Durge are exes or had something going on, so enjoy my depiction of just how their first meeting after so long would be like.

Who would have thought that you would find yourself standing in Baldur’s Gate, face-to-face with Gortash, who gazes at you with surprising tenderness? "Well, isn't it my favorite assassin? It has been too long since we indulged in each other's presence," he remarks. You raise a quizzical brow as your arms fold over your chest, leaning against the protective metal.

"Ah, yes. How could I forget? You lack the memories of what we once shared. A shame, truly. Your father never was one for the ideals of... affection." You resist the urge to let your jaw drop at his words, while Wyll stifles a laugh beside you.

"I'm sorry, but you're telling me you and Tav had some sort of connection?" he asks, looking between both of you. Beside you, Karlach goes stiff, and you reach out through your connected minds, assuring her that you have no clue about the nonsense the man is spouting. Upon your words, she visibly relaxes, folding her arms and shifting to stand a step in front of you, ready to protect you from the person she once trusted if need be.

"We did, in fact, have a connection, and that connection was the reason why your friend now has no memory of who she is," Gortash states, a frown appearing on his lips. "Her father felt threatened by the idea that his perfect assassin was falling for someone, so why not punish those who fell into forbidden love." From beside you, a sudden gag sounds, and Astarion clears his throat.

"I do apologize, but that had to be the most sickening thing I've ever heard, and I don't mean the fact that her father stripped away her memories." It's hard to suppress a laugh at Astarion's words, especially since you can feel the jealousy radiating off of him. Astarion is what you'd call a cat; he thrives when affection is given on his terms, but he is quite territorial with things that belong to him. In this case, you are that thing—mind, body, and soul. You are his human, and he would rather tear the world to shreds than give you up.

Reaching back, your fingers gently brush against him, and he seizes the opportunity to interlace his fingers with yours. A sense of safety and confidence washes over you as his hand firmly holds yours. Gortash, observant of the interaction, advances toward both of you, prompting a tenseness in your body.

"I see you've found a replacement, Little Flower," he remarks. The use of that nickname freezes you, causing your body to stiffen as memories flood your mind. Flashbacks of your younger self and Gortash flow through your consciousness. Despite the rugged and worn-down appearance, Gortash possessed qualities that rendered him remarkably handsome. In the recollection, you both stood in the middle of a flower field, having sneaked off after some convincing. He delicately placed a flower in your hair, affectionately uttering the same nickname.

Gortash notices the recognition in your eyes, prompting him to smile at Astarion. "Seems she remembers that exchange very well. The kiss we shared sealed our promise to one another. Yes, you two are quite...adorable, but let her stay where she belongs. It won't be long until your little romance disappears when her memories return."

Astarion vibrates with anger, and all you can do is squeeze his hand, offering silent reassurance. Gortash attempts to provoke him in a way he knows best, wanting to witness the dissolution of the bond you share. However, Astarion surprises everyone. Instead of reacting impulsively, he closes his eyes, takes a few deep breaths, and regulates the tightness of his grip around your hand. He's wrestling with the urge to draw his knife and thrust it into Gortash's chest.

Your chest swells with pride at how far Astarion has come from the first encounter when he held a dagger to your throat. "I'll never let her go, not until she tells me to. And when she does, I'll do everything in my power to protect her from a distance because she doesn't deserve to revert to the life she once lived. Not when she's worked so hard to build herself a new life. Not when she's almost killed herself fighting the demons that claw at her, begging to escape."

A snort escapes Gortash as he listens to Astarion's words. "To think someone as powerful as you settled for that," he spits, redirecting his gaze toward you. "Have your fun, Little Flower, but as much as I would love to bring up the past and the memories we share, I have other matters to discuss with you," Gortash states, pacing around the room. "Your sister is stirring up trouble and making things difficult. Her newfound thirst for power after you left is creating tension in my city." You know precisely who he is referring to. In your few encounters with Orin, she made it clear that you both shared the same father.

"What Orin does is none of my concern. If she's hell-bent on trying to take something I don't even want, then let her. I don't know what kind of life I lived before this, but I don't want any part of it. I was given a second chance to finally live, and I won't be ruining that over some family drama," you shrug. You notice Karlach adopting a look of approval at your words. Seeing Gortash again is tough for her, especially now that you know you apparently had some kind of relationship before waking up on the ship.

Gortash sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, and nods. "Yes, yes, I quite understand what you are saying. You're breaking free from those torturous chains, but your family matters affect the lives of those in Baldur's Gate. I don't care if you are sweeping your matters under the rug, but I want you to kill her. Take out Orin and bring me her stone, and when you do, I'll assist you in defeating the Elder Brain." Something about his words is taunting, making you question the truth of his alliance with you. Almost as if sensing your doubt, he leans against the table behind him.

"I do not wish to fool you; I don't stand for the loss of innocent lives. Orin is out of control, and the brain will wreak havoc if given the chance. If we can control the brain, we can destroy it."

Your mind races as you consider the situation. Releasing a defeated sigh, you clench your jaw, allowing your face to fall into a blank stare. "Fine, I'll kill her." The sound of your group protesting fills the room, echoing off the walls. Gortash only smiles at your words, letting his eyes lock onto yours as your friends attempt to talk some sense into you. After a few minutes, Gortash dismisses you and leaves the room.

Your companions follow behind you, attempting to get your attention before Karlach finally speaks up. "Tav, stop walking away. You know what he did to me and the hell I've lived through. Accepting his offer is a betrayal to me, so you better explain. If you don't, then I have no choice but not to trust you or to stay in the group." Her words hit you hard. She was like your sister, a reason for you to live.

"I'm playing him at his own game. We saw the power these stones had over the brain when we fought Thorm, meaning he had plans for them when he got them all to himself. Trust me, Karlach, I don't trust him either, but we need to take advantage of this. He could be the key to leading us right to the brain so we can destroy it, so I can save all of us," you whisper, looking up at your friend.

Karlach meets your eyes, searching them as if trying to detect any lies in your words. So, you open your mind to her, letting her read your intention with Gortash. Silence fills the area around your group as they wait for Karlach's response. "I trust you," she finally says, sending you a bright smile. You let out a breath of relief at her words as Astarion walks up beside you. You could feel how tense he felt, and you immediately knew something was wrong.

Things between the group had gotten tense after you entered Baldur's Gate. You felt the urge calling to you more than ever before; Astarion was only steps away from having to see Cazador again, and Karlach finally had to come face to face with the person she trusted her life with and who stabbed her in the back. Sending him a look, he nods slightly before looking away. It was a silent communication that you two would be talking when you got back to camp, and you could only hope this wouldn't end in a fight between you two.

---

Upon your arrival, you couldn't help but notice how Astarion immediately headed toward a shaded area. Jaheira spoke quietly to you about matters that needed attention in the city, but your gaze remained fixed on your lover. Jaheira fell silent before laughing quietly, drawing your attention back to her. "You two are quite fond of one another. Go to him; you've been worried about him since the walk back," she said, patting your arm soothingly. Nodding in gratitude, you walked towards Astarion.

He sat on the ground, gazing up at the sky, with rays of sunshine warming his face through the leaves. Stopping behind him, you were unsure of how to initiate the conversation between the two of you. "Star," you said, your voice carried by the slight breeze swirling around you. You sensed him tense, knowing that the forthcoming discussion would likely be tense as well.

With his back to you, he leaned his arms on his knees, shifting his gaze ahead. "So, you were the one involved with the absolute and why we're like this," he stated. Your heart dropped as you looked down. Indeed, you were. Your memories flooded back when you entered Wyrm’s Crossing, remembering who you were, who your father was, and what he wanted you to carry out.

"As angry as I want to be with you, I can't. I know what it's like to feel trapped under a command without being able to escape. I mean, look at what Cazador made me do. I want to be angry, but I just can't," he continued, and your shoulders dropped as you listened to his words. "But that's not why I'm questioning things. Not us; I could never question us. What I'm questioning is what will happen when you fully regain your memory. You and Gortash obviously have something, or rather had something. He talked to you like he was seeing his lover all over again. He looked at you like he was undressing you, ready to show our group of lovely friends that you still belong to him."

There it was—the feeling of your heart shattering in your chest as you listened to his words. He was terrified of losing you, and you had no idea how to reassure him that you're his.

Moving to stand in front of him, you drop to your knees and gently grasp his face in your hands. Opening and closing your mouth, no words escape you. Lost in his eyes—those crimson-red orbs that appear scared and broken—a part of you feels angry, angry at yourself and angry at Gortash for dredging up a past you have no memory of, a past you never want to revisit.

“I meant it when I told you that you mean a lot to me, Star,” you finally say, brushing your thumbs against his cheek. “You’re my entire world. You stayed by my side when the urge wracked my body, when I attempted to take your life that night. You didn’t judge me when it got so bad I caved and harmed an innocent person. You held me and told me that I could beat those urges. You saved me, Astarion, and I will not be leaving you.” His tears begin to pool under the pad of your thumb as you speak.

“Losing my memory was my second chance at life, and then I met you. You gave me something worth living for. Hells, all of our friends did, and I refuse to go back to that life I once lived. I don’t want to be a killer, and I don’t want to be his daughter. I want to be my own person. I want to be able to make my own decisions and control my own body and mind. So, my little Star, I won’t be going anywhere because my home is right here by your side.”

You can tell your words have moved him in some way as he is now fully sobbing. Pulling him to you, you let his head fall onto your chest as you allow him to fall apart in your arms. The fear that plagued him during your meeting with Gortash finally leaves him as he deflates in your embrace. Soon, his sobs quieten, and you both lie under the tree, his arms wrapped tightly around you, almost as if he fears you will disappear if he lets go. In that moment, a peaceful and intimate moment, three words are finally shared between you two. In that moment, you vow to destroy Cazador and show him what true power is. In that moment, the urge claws at your insides, begging to be unleashed, and soon enough, you will let it take over your very being.

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fooled-around-and-fell · 1 year

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Already Broken

Summary: Soldier Boy fools around with someone that's supposed to be insignificant. But he finds himself more drawn than he could ever be.

Genre: romance, angst

Characters: Soldier Boy x female reader

WARNING: cursing, violence, smoking, mentions of weed, depictions of sex, mentions of abuse, character death, minors dni -- It's Soldier Boy, he is the warning.

a/n: this man.. I can't.

Masterlist

It didn't matter who he was.

You didn't care, as long as he showed up with the money or weed he promised.

"So, what time you get off today, darlin'?"

Ben sat in the booth, having his lunch where he always does -- the diner you worked at. It was small, grimy, but a local favorite.

"Soon, in about half an hour." You replied. "What do you want?"

He smirked. "You know what I want. Keep the change, I'll see you later tonight."

You first met Ben when he was saving your boss, the diner owner, from being robbed. That's mostly why he always eats at the diner, his payment for saving your boss was a free meal each day (though he leaves tips anyway).

After having you serve him, Ben didn't want anybody else. He would only ask for you, and that sparked your deal with him. In reality, it was just an opportunity for blackmail.

He caught you smoking in the back alley one time, and after threatening to spill the beans to your boss, he decided to keep your little secret. In exchange of your services -- after hours.

He'd come, fuck you over, and leave money. You took offense at first, but at this point you didn't care. It was money that you needed, and he fucked you good.

By the time you reached your apartment, Ben was already inside waiting for you.

"There's my sweet." He sighed in relief before spreading his legs and smirking, "Strip."

Rolling your eyes, you took off your clothes, showing him your naked body underneath the waitress uniform you had to wear.

"Mm, no underwear under that short skirt? Baby, you should've told me earlier." Ben stood up, circling around you, his breath right next to your ear. "Would've taken you right then and there."

You gulped, feeling his cold uniform touching your bare skin.

You know the rest.

------

Sometimes you wonder if what you're doing with Soldier Boy is worth it. Yes, he's charming, he has that je ne sais quoi factor, and God was he handsome. The only problem was that he's ruthless, and calling him a 'bad guy' was an understatement.

"You're scared of me." He stated the obvious while lying naked on your bed. "Why?"

"Are you really asking why?" You snorted as you put on some clothes. "You could literally snap my head off at any moment you like. That fact isn't exactly comforting."

He smiled, "Aw, but I won't do that. I like you, you're fun to keep around."

"Very reassuring."

He had stuck the money on the fridge with a magnet, like he always does. It still makes you feel bad, makes you feel like a whore, but you needed the money -- at this point, you are a whore.

"What's on your mind?"

"Nothing."

He frowned, a smile of disbelief on his face. "Usually you'd already be smoking by now."

"I can't." You said, "My brother's coming to visit and he's staying. I need to look like I have my shit together."

"Brother? I didn't know you had a brother."

You raised a brow. "Cause I don't need to tell you. Anyway, you can't come over for the next week."

It was his turn to raise a brow. "What do you mean I can't?"

"I can't have my brother look at me like this -- with obvious sex bruises."

"Sounds like you're even more scared of your brother than me." He joked, but when he saw the look in your eyes he started to wonder.

"Oh, you are scared of him."

"He's my brother." You swallowed thickly, grabbing yourself a glass of water. "He's just strict."

Ben looked at you for a minute before deciding to let the topic go. "Well, whoever he is, I'm still coming over. He can't stop me from getting my daily dose of addiction."

He left a kiss on your neck before leaving your apartment. "I'll see you soon, baby doll."

-------

Yes, you're scared of your brother.

It sounds silly, but when you were kids he used to hit you -- playfully at first, but then it got more serious. He called you names that he would disguise as playful and harmless, and you believed all he said.

That's why as you're picking him up, you're nervous as hell.

"Took you long enough."

"Hi to you too." You sighed, "Come on, my apartment's just down the block."

He handed you his bag and walked ahead. "Keep up, dumbass."

"Why are you here, anyway?"

"What, I can't visit my little sister?" He said in a 'loving' tone. "My friends are gonna hang. I'll just be here for a few days."

Thank God. You thought to yourself.

Your brother, Kyle, immediately went to your fridge to find some food.

"Help yourself..." you muttered.

"What did you say?" He frowned.

"Nothing," You sighed, dropping his bag on the couch while you cleaned up some dishes.

Kyle leaned against the counter. "Damn straight. You're starting to disrespect me. I should check in on you more often."

"I'm an adult, Kyle." You protested, "You don't need to protect me."

Big air quotes on protect.

"You're still my little sister." He sighed, "I don't want anything to happen to you."

For a moment there you felt like Kyle's changed. Maybe he's different now. Maybe he's no longer the ass-

"What the fuck?" Kyle squinted at the bruise he could see under your shirt. "Is that a fucking hickey?"

You pulled your shirt. "No, um, it's-"

"It is!" He scoffed, "God, I'm out there working my ass off and you're here just whoring around town? Jesus Christ."

"I'm not-"

"Get a real job, Y/N. Oh wait, sorry, you already have one -- being the community slut."

It was rage that you were feeling. Your hands were sweating, your heart was beating too fast for its own good, and your hand was holding a glass.

You did what you always do, breathe in and out. Count to ten. Don't let him get to you--

"Who the fuck would want you now? Worthless. Since the moment you were born."

Until that last comment somehow triggered your arm to swing and hit his head. The glass in your hand shattered into pieces when it hit his head, and Kyle was now lying on the ground, unconscious.

You weren't sure what happened -- no, you know exactly what happened.

Your hands were shaking while you tried to balance yourself.

What did you do?

How- why- shit-

"Shit."

You heard a familiar voice at the entrance of your apartment.

"Ben.. I-"

"Don't move." He said, warning you about the glass that was everywhere. Ben moved closer to Kyle, checking his pulse, though he knew the chances were slim. There was a big piece of glass that went through his skull.

"Is.. Is he?"

Ben stood up and covered you away from Kyle. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up."

"Ben, is he- is my brother.. I didn't mean to, I.. I couldn't.." You struggled with your words, chest heaving in panic because you realize what you'd just done.

Ben checked your hands for any cuts, but luckily they were small. "Don't look at him. Look at me. You're okay, alright? You don't need to explain to me what happened."

"But I-"

"Shh, it's okay." Ben pulled you into a hug, making sure you face away from Kyle's body.

It wasn't like Ben to act like this, to put someone else before him. He had no intentions to protect you, but the moment he saw the fear in your eyes, it was like instinct.

"Listen to me, here's what's gonna happen."

-------

Things moved fast. One moment you were picking up your brother, and now his body is being carried away to the morgue. Ben did all the talking to the police.

His story?

You're his secret girlfriend who has an abusive brother. When he arrived at your apartment he saw your brother hitting you in ways unimaginable. He did the only thing he knew how to.

The story wasn't a lie, except for the last part.

Ben wanted to protect you, but you knew damn well you killed your own brother. The guilt, the shame -- it was eating you up. And Ben could see it.

Ben managed to convince the authorities that you're too much in shock to speak, and he brought you back with him to his place.

"Hey," He called out softly, rubbing your back. "How are you holding up?"

He couldn't believe he's actually being nice, for once.

You sat on his bed and looked at him. "You're being nice to me."

He chuckled. "You just went through something traumatic. It's gonna take a while for you to get through it."

You mouth went dry.

"I.. I killed my brother."

"You were defending yourself."

"Against what? His words?" You scoffed, "He was yelling at me.. he was being fucking condescending and I just.. I lost it."

Ben reached for a blunt he casually had nearby and passed it to you.

"He was abusing you. Maybe not physically, but it doesn't matter. He's been doing that to you your entire life." He said. "If you ask me, it's about time he learnt his lesson."

"He's dead, Ben. He didn't learn anything."

The blunt was gone fast.

Ben stayed with you for the entire day, even though sometimes you didn't know what to say. Ben didn't know what to say either, he just knew he couldn't leave you alone.

At one point, Ben carried you to his bathroom. He ran a bath, made sure it was warm, and sat behind you, washing your hair.

"Why are you being nice?"

"You just went through something, sweetheart. I'm trying to take care of you."

You looked down. "I know, but you didn't have to. You could've just left me, watch me get arrested.. but instead you lied for me. You took the blame. Wait, what's gonna happen to you? Aren't you going to get in trouble?"

He chuckled, "Sweetheart, I'm Soldier Boy. I can do anything I want."

You turned to face him. It was the first time you saw his expression so gentle, so kind.

Ben let you rest your head on his chest while he rubs your fingers, knowing well that you could still feel the glass breaking in your hands. He couldn't handle you looking at him like that, it made him feel things.

"You know, I was alone when I got here." He started. "Everything was dark, I couldn't find my way. And then I met you, and.. I don't know, things just started falling into place."

"I didn't do anything though."

"That's the crazy part." He smiled, "You were just there. Whether I needed you or not, you're always there. Even if you only did it for the money, or the drugs, I don't care."

Ben didn't want to add any more to your plate. You've had quite the day. So he just held you and massaged your sore shoulders.

"Just stay and let me be here, alright? We'll figure out everything else tomorrow."

"..Alright."

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matan4il · 2 months

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911 ep 705 first watch reactions

Of course 911 would "punish" the "You are the boss of you!" guy with an alien hand that attacks him, and does what it wants. Pooor Buck and Eddie paying the price for that...

Okay, love the storyline with Hen and Karen possibly eventually adopting an older girl. Too many shows just find easy, unrealistic ways to give their same sex couples kids, and I am really glad that 911 shows the reality of it, and that it is a more complex struggle for many, that it's an act of continuously choosing to be parents. That's actually an amazing, difficult thing, and it should be faithfully depicted and respected, for all of its heartache, and the little moments of triumph.

Buck and Tommy on a date, and Eddie comes along with Marisol? Love how Buck's bisexual awakening and coming out continues to involve Eddie so much. Tell me they're end game, even if they're not gonna get together right now, without telling me they're...

I did not need to learn Marisol is moving in with Eddie like this, with any build up, or even any sort of insight into the relationship, and nope, that does not bode well for them. IDK how 911 managed to do it, but they have somehow managed to give Eddie a love interest the show is even less invested in than Ana.

And the funniest bit, is that Marisol and Eddie's big development is only there to further Buck's journey anyway.

"You can never have too much closet space" LMAO the way 911 both made me laugh, and feel sorry for poor, baby bi Buck. XD

Hmmm. Were parts of this scene cut out? We don't get to see Eddie on his own date with Marisol, but constantly looking over at Tommy and Buck? Boo. I'm glad we at least got the BTS photos, then. But seriously, why!? That was gonna be so delicious.

Oh, Tommy's breaking up with Buck. I mean, good for him, and he ain't wrong after Buck's "after this, we're gonna go out looking for chicks" reaction, but man do I feel sorry for Buck. Him and Tommy might not be my end game (Buddie forever will be), but I do think this relationship could be good for our baby bi. Tommy being in the same profession, knowing what it's like to have this gap between who you are and the image of guys in your line of work, plus he's got more experience than Buck, is sure of himself, can help our boy figure himself out, and also Buck obviously does like his vibe. He deserves to be with someone he actually likes, not just the first woman willing to be with him that the plot pushed in his way.

Oh, baby Buck. :( You didn't even tell Maddie about Tommy. You really aren't ready it. But also (and as a Buddie shipper, more importantly), Tommy broke things off with Buck, but what is eating him up, is that he lied to Eddie. XD Yeah, this gonna end with wedding bells, sooner or later. On screen, off screen after the show ends with canon Buddie, or only in my head if 911 never dares make Buddie canon, I don't care. That kind of emotional devotion is not something that my hopelessly romantic heart can ignore.

OMG, this is how Buck comes out to Maddie? XD Via random pronoun mention, and as a by product of trying to figure out how to tell Eddie the truth? This is hilarious. lol It really makes it clear that, after all, the issue for Buck really isn't people knowing he is also dating guys (or checking their asses), even when it's the other closest person in the world for him, it's Eddie. Specifically. Buck's ready, even if he doesn't have the exact clear words yet, he's just not ready to tell Eddie. Can't imagine why. XDDD

What was that awkward post-sex scene with Eddie and Marisol? And the issues with her moving in are popping up a second after she has. But yeah, we have no idea who this woman is as a person, she's been a cardboard cut out so far, and then one of the first things we do learn about her, is that she would call her stuff better than Eddie's? Once again, this is not the stuff great romance is made of. Or... even just the stuff any kind of romance is made of.

Wait, Marisol was a nun, and Eddie didn't even know!? This whole ep is telegraphing in the news of how weird and awkward and underdeveloped this r/s is, not just for us as viewers who know nothing about Marisol, but apparently for Eddie as well.

And of course his Catholic guilt is gonna kick in now. I'd care, except 911 has given me absolutely no reason to. Seriously, I care more about Buck and Tommy after just 2 eps, than Eddie and Marisol, even though this is technically her 2nd season on the show.

Of course Buck went to find Eddie, and spotted him at the gym. Forever 201 vibes, with Eddie being the focus of Buck's attention. ^u^

I couldn't care less about Eddie's Catholic guilt crisis, and how it's actually a projection of what his real issues are with Marisol, but it's nice to see that as always, Buck's the one who can tell when something's off, and offer Eddie exactly what he needs (even when that's to talk to someone else, but Buck figures out immediately who the right person to address is), and then they just very naturally switch, because Eddie can also tell when something's off with Buck, and he wants to tell him something. Soulmates. THAT is the stuff that great romance IS made of.

:/ The imagery of Catholic nuns has not been around for over 2,000 years, please stop being ignorant about your own religion, and the very different way it looked in its early days.

Bobby is forgiven, he does give good advice, and his "her ex, the Lord" bit, which prompted that reaction from Eddie, is hilarious. XD

So... when Eddie is having issues with Marisol, he already knows he has to figure out how he feels about her, but instead of doing so, he goes to his safe place... Buck's loft.

Man, Eddie being into Tommy's choice of avoidning relationships with women, and hanging out with boys, after in the past, Eddie had dealt with his Shannon issues by running away from her, and re-enlisting in the army, where he gets to hang out with boys, when we all (Buck included) know why Tommy's "hanging out with boys"... I do like that if they want to (and hopefully they do), this further lays the groundwork for Eddie's own queer realization.

Buck and Eddie helping each other with their respective romantic problems, without realizing they are each other's respective romantic solution is gonna make me chew on my own fists. Again. But I'm not even a little bit surprised that Eddie was totally fine and accepting of Buck being bi, or that the first thing he thought of is how this reflects on them. Because their friendship IS way deeper and closer than normal for platonic friends, and Eddie's little reassurance is also an admission of that.

Man, for a second I was worried they also cut out Eddie in the loft, once more putting his thumb on Buck's pulse point possessively, in a perfect parallel to 303. I would have sued for emotional damages. But yeah, it says so much that the peak of emotional meaningfulness for Buck when coming out is in relation to Eddie, and that the scene itself peaks with Eddie, instead of finishing rushing out to take care of his own romantic business, hurries back to Buck first, to hug him, place his hand on Buck and give him orders. "Sure, you're gonna be dating this guy, but I'm still your real husband."

Well, at least Eddie amitted to himself and Marisol that he doesn't actually know her. But... I have never seen two people being both being so happy about not moving in together, and I'm supposed to think this r/s has a chance? Okay. Suuuure.

The scene with Buck going to Tommy to set things straight ready for something was lovely, it was nice seeing him excited, and get to choose, and hear he's wanted. But since the note Tommy and Buck's storyline in this ep should have ended on, is Buck showing Tommy he's ready enough to let others know he's dating a guy by inviting Tommy to come with Buck to Madney's wedding, then why is the very next scene playing the romantic switch again, making us think Buck's car just arrived at the wedding with him and Tommy, only for Buck and Eddie to walk in together? I see what you did there, 911.

Thank you for reading! If you're looking for more, you can find my s7 reactions tag here, and more of my Buddie meta and content in my pinned post. xoxox

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akingdomscrypt · 9 months

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Make a Mercy Out of Me

Part Three

Pairing; König x m!reader

Word Count; ~7.66k

Warnings; kinda sorta graphic depiction of stitching up wounds near the end. So if you don't like needles.. be careful.

A/n; König is a sergeant bc I said so and it fits my narrative. There's also plans in work for why he's a part of 141 & background knowledge on him. Lore. Eventually.

(we need more clips of this man istg-)

--- "babysitting duty" ---

You were a frustrating man to work with. You had hardly said much of anything during that sad excuse of an interrogation, at least nothing of much use. All they knew now was that there was someone out there who held your leash. Or, well, used to. You were a wildcard now, without someone to keep you on lock and key, and there was no way in the deepest pits of hell they could set you loose on the world with what they knew–which wasn't much. Not unless you were hanging off their every word or buried six feet under an unmarked grave.

"You talk about him like he's some sort of lab experiment."

"Mm." Well… "maybe he is. Who knows."

"He isn't some feral dog, König."

He didn't like it. As much as your words had ignited a–often ignored–spark in him, there was something itching at the back of his mind telling him you weren't trustworthy. That you'd stab him and the rest of the task force in the back the moment you were left to your own devices.

"We should keep him."

"He's a person."

"Not a good one."

"Neither are we."

They had to keep you, if at least for society's sake, on that straining lead. As any slack would surely be the catalyst of his very own demise.

I could make the world bleed.

The words were stuck on replay in König's mind, as well as the man who had spoken them. It was a horrible thought to have–but he couldn't help but find it.. intriguing. The idea made his heart skip a beat and the corner of his scarred mouth curl.

"He said he'd make the world bleed, König. That's fuckin' creepy as shite!" Ghost spat, arms crossed over his chest, as the two made the journey back to the rest of the team.

"You have said much stranger things, Ghost."

"You can't really be considerin' this." A few beats of silence from the larger man was all the confirmation Ghost needed. "Price would never agree to it."

"He said he could help."

"Help." Ghost huffed. "Right. Help with what exactly? He has no idea what we've been working on."

"Ja, he doesn't know. But what about that bomber? Could it be relevant?" Besides Mouse, the team had been tracking a much more persistent threat. Something that left behind more than just breadcrumbs in the form of mutilated bodies.

"...are you sayin' he could be involved in this?"

"He has been showing up right after every hit."

"Right." Ghost pauses in his tracks, turning his head slightly to look up at the other man. "So you think he's with them? Or.. maybe one of their targets?"

König comes to a stop too and takes a moment to mull it over. Could you have been a part of the group they'd been hunting these past few months? It was a little.. suspicious that you'd show up and take out another high-profile figure right after every strike made. Were you cleaning up their mess? Or your own?

"That's all the more reason to keep him, no? To find out? We know he has someone he reports to." There was also the fact that the explosion had gone off practically right under your own two feet. That had to mean something.

Just following orders?

"It's a little concerning when I of all people have to remind you that he is a very real, living, breathing, capable-of complex-thought person." König brushes off Ghost's concerns with a noncommittal shrug.

If they took the route of you having been just another victim of the explosion, that left many unexplained variables. Such as why you were a target–wouldn't one terrorist organization blend well with another? Why would they be at odds? It also leaves the question that, if you had really been abandoned by your crew, why had "she"–the woman who you'd mentioned–left you for dead? Was it legitimate? Or a ploy of some kind?

Then there was the more believable scenario that would tell it as; you hadn't really been betrayed by your group, or whoever held your metaphorical leash. And the explosion was some kind of distraction, a way to get their attention. Maybe–if one applies the theory that you were in cahoots with the people they'd been hunting–you had wanted to get caught. Or, maybe not you specifically, but whoever "she" was. Maybe you were sent as bait and they'd fallen right into that mouse trap–heh.

Maybe you didn't even know this was all a farce. That would make it all the more believable, no?

Either way, they need you here. For information. And if they played their cards right, if they burrowed their way under your skin and into your heart–like a damn parasite–you would give them exactly what they wanted. Lead them right to both the core of your organization and the group behind the bombing. And if the people or persons behind the bombing were by some miracle connected to who they had been tracking…

"He can help." His words help a certain air of finality to them, a small grin making an appearance under his hood.

Another sigh, but not a no.

Price wasn't as thrilled by König's proposal as Ghost begrudgingly was.

"You want to what." König wasn't a fearful man–unless he was ordering from a drive-thru, that shit was terrifying–but when the Captain looked at him like that. Let's just say he was forever grateful for the cloth that obscured almost the entirety of his face.

"Keep him." And if his voice comes out a little smaller than normal… no one mentions it.

To his right, König hears Ghost let out another heavy sigh. For a man who used to take a blowtorch to a hostage's skin and quite literally wears a skull stitched onto his face every day- if you'd asked König, he'd tell you the Lieutenant had grown soft. Or, well, soft-ish. He would still slit a man's throat without question.

"Why'd you wanna do that?" Gaz pipes up, giving König a blank, indecipherable expression. Coupled with his tone, König couldn't tell which side of the fence he was leaning towards. He knew Gaz, out of all of them, was the one with a more strict moral compass–something König both admired and thought of as foolish–but he also already didn't like their current hostage. So, discerning whether the other man would be for or against his proposition was a complex feat. König would have to walk that fine line, choose his words carefully, to sway Gaz's opinion in his favor.

"We could use his help." Is what König finally lands on. Not leaning too far into what Ghost had described as treating you like a tool, but not dipping into friendly territory either. An even middle ground.

"From what Ghost and I managed to gather," well, König had gathered. Ghost more or less just stood in the background as a silent spectator. "He claims he's been abandoned by someone he'd only refer to as "she". That this woman brought him here from wherever he came from to follow some lead- but that lead seems to have been a dead end."

"A dead end?" If Gaz's thing was compassion and strict morals, Soap's was intrigue. Puzzles and demolitions, that's all it took to draw in their resident impulse-driven pyromaniac.

"A dead end," König repeats, now switching his attention to the Scotsman. "Turns out there was no target, not really. Or, at least, that is what it appears like at first glance."

Soap's eyes light up when König moves to reach into his pocket, fishing for the blank note. Bingo.

"At first, when we pulled this off him, we had assumed it to be blank," he unfolds the crinkled-up paper, mud, water stains and all. König reaches his hand out to pass the note to Price, keeping the others on the edge of their seats. "But if you take another look.."

Price inspects it with a deep frown, then passes it to Gaz, who looks at it with a skeptical raise of his brow, next is Soap then Ghost, and finally back around to König. Upon closer inspection, past all the grime and stains, there was a faint red scribble.

"It is like there was something here," he mutters, smoothing a gloved thumb over the worn parchment as if that will somehow make the faded words clearer.

"But someone must've purposefully scrubbed it away." Ghost adds, seeming much more interested than he had earlier.

Any other person would probably have brushed the now-pinkish, washed-out markings as blood. And König almost had; after all, you were practically swimming in your own blood right now. Clothes stained with it far past recognition.

Even so, he knew that wasn't it.

The paper had a slew of things it was coated in–some recognizable, some not–, but blood was, surprisingly, not one of them.

"Dae ya think 'e knows?" Two.

"Maybe he was the one who erased it?" Three.

"We won't know unless we ask him. But,"

They all look over to Price, waiting for the man's next words with bated breaths.

"We can't jus' do it outright." Price's steely gaze lands on König and he subconsciously stands a little taller.

"König's got the right idea. We can't jus' kill 'im. Not yet." Four. "Not until we know everything he does."

"Aye, Captain." Soap grins, pushing up from where he'd been resting against a wall. He tilts his head in the direction Ghost and König had come from. "Let's go wear 'im down then, yeah?"

"Preferably before he bleeds out." Ghost reluctantly grumbles. "Bastard already looks to be halfway through death's door."

Price looks to König, cocking his head slightly to the right.

"You said he believes he was abandoned, right?"

"That is correct, sir." The corner of Price's mouth ticks up.

"So no one's coming for 'im then?"

A sick twist of anticipation began to swell in König's chest, and suddenly he was a lot more confident than he was a few seconds ago.

"Precisely."

The last thing you were expecting after those two giants left was for them to return with the whole damn crew. You'd be lying if you said the leader didn't make every inch of your being tense up. There was just something in his eyes; that cool blue, warmer than König's but still so cold, gave off a deceiving "I'm not a threat" while simultaneously saying "flinch and I'll kill you".

The dark-skinned man and the baby-faced one stood a little ways behind you, and closer to the door. The leader took a seat in the chair König had been sitting in–assuming the same position the Austrian had. Skull-face stood in the same place and König took his place on your right-hand side. Standing just far enough behind you to barely graze your peripheral but close enough where you could feel his presence looming near you. Invading your personal little space bubble with his, so close if he leaned any closer he'd be brushing up right against you.

The leader tried his hand at interrogating you again. It went a little something like this;

"Do you know why she left you?'

"Probably had something to do with my bad attitude."

He gives you an unimpressed look. You simply raise your eyebrows in question. You had broken your vow of silence, but that didn't mean you were going to make it easy on them.

"König said you could help us. Mind tellin' me what exactly you could do to help?"

"I have connections. People who owe me a favor or two." Or five. Hey, in your defense, you had been in the game for a while.

"Are these connections… legal?"

"I highly doubt you care about legalities if you are conversing with me still," Then, just to be a little shit, you add a snide, "sir."

You swear you hear a small huff behind you and you brush it off as a figment of your imagination. After all, you had lost a ton of blood.. It was a miracle you hadn't passed out again from blood loss. At this rate, you should probably be dead. Or, at the very least, comatose or something. Not back-talking the man who was very literally your golden ticket to freedom.

You blamed it on the blood loss. Made you say stupid shit.

"What else can you offer us?" In other words; why should we keep you?

"One less Brit in your ranks?"

"..what?"

"You all could really use some diversity."

There's a pregnant pause before,

"Is making jokes all you're good for?" Skull-face speaks up from behind the leader.

"What can I say? It is part of my charm."

The bearded man in front of you lets out a heavy sigh. Something about that sigh told you this type of thing wasn't new to him. A small part of you perked up with curiosity. You then proceed to beat that part of you back down into a bloody pulp.

"Are you goin' to take this seriously or not, Mouse?" The leader captures your attention again and you shrug. You really should take this more seriously… but the lack of vital, life-supporting fluid in your system was making you loopy.

And stupid.

"König?"

Very stupid.

A small grunt from behind you.

"Hast du darüber nachgedacht, was ich gesagt habe?" (Have you thought about what I said?)

The man in front of you frowns, looking from you to König, to you again. But he doesn't stop you. Someone probably should.

There's a terse silence before König replies.

"Deshalb sind sie hier." (That's why they're here.)

Despite your slightly dazed state, you smile a little to yourself.

"Did you tell him?" Now the leader looks even more confused, if not a little more frustrated. Good.

"Tell me what?" His glare is now trained on König, and you know you've gotten the giant into deep shit now. Even better.

"Nein."

And just like that you, very foolishly, let out a small puff of what was obviously an attempt at laughter. Though a poor one.

At this is rate, you'd sooner get yourself killed than cut loose, but your mouth seemed to have a mind of its own. It also seemed to be keen on digging you into deeper shit.

"It is a good deal.." you trail off, narrowing your eyes a little at the leader. It would be great if you knew their names. But no one seemed interested in filling you in on that, so you continue, "you all could really use the help. After all, the only reason you lot even caught me was 'cause I was having a bit of a bad day."

"A bit of a bad day?" Leader asks.

"Aye," you drawl. Your heart thudded a few times in your chest, slowed, then picked back up again. Really, you should be dead, slumped over in your chair, by now. "Got blown up. Stabbed a few times.. broke a few bones.."

You give a sloppy grin beneath your mask. Yeah, definitely shouldn't be awake right now. "Bit of a bad day."

"He's useless like this, Cap'." One of the men from somewhere by the roll-up door pipes up.

"Agreed." Skull-face huffs. "Poor guy's all hopped up on adrenaline. He's not much use to us now."

The leader–Captain?–scrutinizes you for a few more moments before exhaling heavily.

"Alright." He grumbles, standing up from the chair.

"König," the Brit calls on the man beside you but keeps his stare trained on you, as if daring you to utter another smart-assed quip. "You were so damn adamant about keeping 'im, yeah?"

It's obviously a rhetorical question and the atmosphere shifts, the tension in the air palpable.

The leader, or, you guess, Captain–these men and their pretentious titles..–adjusts the beige-colored, boonie hat on top of his head and signals something to the two men by the door. You hear the telltale clanking of the metal being rolled up.

"You're on babysitting duty, Sergeant," he says in that displeased rumble–one you had become very familiar with during the first attempt at interrogation–as he makes his way for the door. "So get his arse back in the van, we're moving to someplace more permanent."

The other three men proceed to file out after their Captain, leaving you alone with the, now fuming, Austrian.

Annnnnnd…

"Maus." He grits out from behind you. You proceed to, very smartly, not respond.

Shit.

Instead, you stay stock still even as König leans over you and unsheathes a knife from someplace on his person. One heavy hand gripping your, thankfully, non-injured shoulder and the other reaching around to rest the blade beneath your chin. He urges your head up with the tip of it until your eyes–oh, yeah, he was definitely pissed–lock with his. In the short time you'd known him you had almost forgotten how downright intimidating only being able to see those pale, glowing blues staring through your very soul was.

"Sie werden es bereuen." (literal; you will regret it. Contextual; you're going to regret this.)

He, while maintaining eye contact, removes the knife and brings it down to hover just above your waist. Your own gaze can't help but flick between his and his weapon-welding hand. Self-preservation, you call it. König, after all, has that sharp metal alarmingly close to your dick.

You choose to ignore the thrill that causes your breath to hitch, an unfamiliar feeling stirring somewhere in the deepest pits of your hindbrain.

You watch as he–in a strange show of caution–places the gloved hand that had been on your shoulder beneath the coarse rope, thumb and fourth finger keeping the binding in place, and swiftly slices through the thickly twined fibers. He then makes quick work of doing the same to the rope wrapped around your thighs and ankles. The barest hints of warmth emitting from him easily seep through the thin, ruined cloth of your pants. But before you can think too much about how long it's been since you last felt the touch of another not-currently-dying human being, König pulls back.

When you look back up to search out his gaze you find he is no longer staring you down, his own focus entirely on freeing you from the bindings. The lack of pressure on your worn body is a relief and the next breath that leaves you is shakier than the last–you choose to believe it's just your body coming down from its adrenaline high.

The last of the rope that had been keeping your lower half bound to the chair falls away to the floor with a soft thump and König retreats completely to move onto your hands. Thank fuck for your own fabric-clad hands, you aren't sure how much more of this non-threatening touch you could take before you fucking imploded or something. All you can feel is the slight graze of his deft fingers against your concealed wrists, and even that is muted. Courtesy of the current lack of decent blood circulation to your bound extremities.

After that final piece of rope is removed, you're being yanked to your feet. Off-balanced and stumbling as blood rushes back to every limb, you nearly come crashing straight back down. König's firm hold on your forearm is the only thing that keeps you from taking an embarrassing nosedive into hard concrete.

Panting heavily behind the fabric of your mask, you groan as the world swims around you. König only spares you a few seconds to steady yourself and then he's making a sudden appearance in front of you and trading out his grip on your forearm to engulf your wrist–and subsequently almost your entire hand–in one large hand. He wastes no time in tugging you forward to follow in his footsteps.

You realize quickly that the time between the rest of the group leaving and König's undoing of your bindings hadn't really been more than a few moments–half a minute at most–, as the other members of König's team were just now turning a corner and leaving your field of vision.

How embarrassing, you think, it felt like a fucking eternity.

König easily uses his tight grasp on your wrist to lift you up just enough so you don't have to make the small hop off of the elevated ledge and out of the storage unit–thank fuck it wasn't your injured arm. You aren't sure whether to be annoyed at his blatant show of strength–seriously, the movement seemed entirely effortless on his part–or grateful you didn't have to make the jump. Your depth perception wasn't exactly the best right now and you probably would've just fallen right over. You doubted you would have even had the energy to catch yourself.

The walk out of this seemingly abandoned facility and back out into the scalding heat–huh, they must not have taken you very far–was surprisingly quick. Your barely lucid brain blocked out the majority of the dizzying twists and turns it took to find the exit. And soon enough you find yourself back in the loading space of that damn van.

This time you are mostly conscious, so you're granted the wonderful opportunity of bearing witness to the burning glares of the three other men seated on the opposite bench. König takes his place beside you and actively decides to not even glance in your direction. Instead silently communicates something to the other passive-aggressive passengers. Well, skull-face was definitely more on the aggressive side of the spectrum, but you were mostly certain he couldn't do anything. Or so you hoped.

The baby-faced one was looking at you with more curiosity than anything, a minor hint of defense hidden somewhere in those–why the hell does everyone here have the same eyes??–vivid blues. That barely concealed interest was more terrifying than skull-face's obvious death stare.

The Captain turned his attention to the Austrian beside you, nonverbally communicating his displeasure with a hard glare and deep frown. Ah, the dark-skinned man must've been the one driving the damn thing.

After a few more painstaking minutes of having a half-assed staring contest with the two men across from you, you give up and let your eyelids fall half-shut. Still nauseous with blood loss and possible infection, you pant lightly within the confines of your mask. Heat continues to build in the suffocating cloth and you let out another soft groan, unable to help yourself when you slump backward against the metal wall of the vehicle.

The ground moving beneath you does nothing to aid your current lightheadedness and you find yourself focusing most of your limited attention span on not vomiting in your mask. That would be a hellscape on its own to clean, and the humiliation would probably kill you off before the budding infection had the chance.

It doesn't take much time before you can no longer fight off the exhaustion weighing down the big ball of throbbing pain that is your entire body and your eyelids finally slip shut. Before you have the chance to force your eyes open again–this is definitely not an ideal place to fall asleep–a sudden heavy thwack against your mutilated shoulder does the job for you.

Your eyes snap back open, fully alert as you search out the culprit. You find König giving you a blank, deadpan stare and the venomous words sprouting on the tip of your tongue quickly fizzle out when you notice the van has stopped moving. In fact, you two are the only ones remaining inside. The other four are piling up just out of earshot, the backdoors wide open and showing off- well, nothing. It's dark and all you can make out are vague shapes in the background.

You huff and go to stand but König beats you to it. Still holding onto your wrist, he gives a sharp tug and you stagger out of your seat. You send him a seething glare but find that his attention is no longer on you.

König pulls you out the same way he had the storage unit; efficiently lifting you by your arm and out of the vehicle. You barely manage to keep your balance when your boots touch solid ground again and just that little bit of exertion has you sucking in ragged gulps of air.

When the Captain glances over to you two, König makes a show of lifting your arm into the air as if to say got it and the Captain gives a small nod in acknowledgment. You don't have the wherewithal to give a shit about being treated more like an object than a person, brushing it off and trading it out to take in your surroundings instead. Besides, it wasn't something you were exactly.. unfamiliar with.

Surrounding you is another compound. More well-kept than the storage facility you had previously been in, but still obviously worn. The stark white walls were practically glowing in contrast to the pitch-black, starless night sky. Besides some crumbling and scuff marks here and there–most likely from environmental weathering over time–the cinder block walls were almost pristine.

Your fuzzy, mush of a brain briefly considers asking König where the hell they had brought you, but your tongue is like lead in your mouth. Not that it really mattered, you highly doubt he would've told you anyway. You were a prisoner, after all. A prisoner who they were only keeping alive on the off-chance you could help.

Help with what exactly? You had not a clue. Hopefully, they'd soon get their shit together and tell you sooner rather than later. Then again.. what would they do with you once your use to them came to an end? Would they just end up killing you anyway?

Floodlights abruptly make an unwelcome appearance, bathing the courtyard in a blindingly white light and knocking that train of thought right out of your head. You cringe away from the sudden brightness, squeezing your eyes shut momentarily before blinking a few times in rapid succession to adjust.

You only have the time to register the sheer size of the compound before you are being tugged forward again and into the said building. As usual, you silently curse König's unfairly long legs and subsequent far longer strides as you try your damnedest to keep up. The nausea, burning full body ache, and pounding against your skull have yet to lessen. If anything it's become more of an issue now that you're not running on pure adrenaline.

You find yourself fumbling over your own miscalculated steps more often than you make a successful one, König having to more or less drag the majority of your dead weight along with him. The behemoth of a man doesn't even have the decency to make it look like doing so is any struggle. Bastard.

The interior lighting of the compound is somehow far much worse than the blaring exterior. You squint against the harsh brightness and it takes a few seconds for your pulpy mess of a brain to make out the shapes and colors in front of you. Or, well, the astonishing lack of colors. Dull shades of grey coupled with a blinding light. Perfect.

Someone's talking. Multiple someone's, really. But your ears are too stuffed full of cotton to make any sense of what's being said. The most you can do is try to read their lips–which proves to be futile–and try to gauge the emotional state of the men in the room.

The plainly, uniform-dressed men standing guard seem to not at all have a problem with the crew that had brought you in. Though obviously holding a subordinate position in comparison to the team, they shared easy smiles and small laughs with the group. The Captain appears to be keeping up a polite kind of façade–was this not his base?–as he converses with the two newbies. Skull-face, mohawk guy, and the Captain's obvious favorite all stand behind the Captain in an organized order. With skull-face standing the closest–was he some kind of right-hand man?–babyface and the third man stood at a respectful distance. Not too close, but just near enough to assist if needed.

König kept you a little more ways away from the others, a firmer grip on your wrist than before. It would probably hurt if the remainder of your body wasn't currently one giant sore spot. You realize why when one of the guards spares a glance at you and, spotting your eyes on him, immediately shrinks back and averts his gaze.

Ah, this definitely wasn't their base. Made sense. They all were clearly European and unfamiliar with the normalities of wherever the fuck you all were right now. Faintly, you remember the dark-skinned man complaining about how weird it was driving on the right-hand side of the road.

You're snapped out of your own musings by a harsh pull on your arm. A small noise of surprise escapes you and, before you know it, the guards are moving out of the way and you are being escorted further into the building.

Going off the darkness you had awakened to, it is obviously late at night, maybe even well into the morning by now, and the only people you all pass are all exhausted-looking security personnel.

König follows behind the other four down corridor after corridor, dragging you along behind him. Eventually, you all make it out into what appears like a sort of gathering place or common room. For a split second you think they're going to stop there, but, no, they keep going. Down more confusing hallways and through nonsense doors.

Then finally, finally, it all comes to a stop at an unremarkable metal door. Nothing on it, not even a little window, with the exception of the room number plastered next to it.

You squint at the numbers, trying to make sense of the blurry shapes. There's a small tugging in the back of your mind and, if you were any more aware, you'd almost say it was familiar. Huh.

The Captain unlocks and pushes open the door, then, before you even have the opportunity to protest, König yanks you close and shoves you forward. You stumble–again, seriously, did they think you were made of fucking steel??–through the doorway and only barely manage to break your fall on the closet wall. You stand there for a moment, panting and bracing against hard concrete, while the others file in.

If it wasn't for the unnecessarily heavy thunk you probably wouldn't have realized that the door had been shut. Your vision blurs then blacks out for a split second while you catch your breath, and the only thing on your mind is; how the hell am I not dead yet?

You're only given a few more moments of rest then you're being pulled by the wrist again. Unable to even really feel your legs anymore, the sudden brushing of something solid against the backs of your knees is all you have to tell you you've even moved. You don't have to be told twice to sit, hell, you probably wouldn't have been able to hear them if they had given the order.

You drop your weight instantly, unable to hold yourself up any longer. You can't feel much through the fabric separating your fingertips from what's below, but from the slight give when you press down, if you had to guess, you'd say you were seated on a cot of some kind. It's not the most comfortable, but it's the best thing you've had in a long, long while.

Lifting your gaze at the sound of someone's voice, you blink rapidly in a vain attempt at refocusing your vision.

"Hm?"

All four men standing in the room give you vaguely concerned grimaces. Well, you assume König and skull-face do, judging by the crinkling of their limited expression.

"I said-" the Captain begins. Not that you hear any of what comes after that. Head full of cotton and feeling simultaneously like you're both floating and being weighed down by a ship's anchor, you're left futilely trying to read his lips. But that only makes the pounding in your head worsen and you screw your eyes shut again.

Cradling your head in your hands you lean down, elbows propped up on your knees. You suck in shallow, shaky breaths, fruitlessly trying to get the proper amount of oxygen to the lump of mass that is your brain.

When your eyes flutter open again the lights have been dimmed just enough to take the edge off, reducing the strain on your eyes, and you immediately slump in relief. You think you mutter your gratitude under your breath, but, really, you're far too out of it to be certain.

A few more muffled words and the soft thumping of footsteps later and the door opens then shuts one last time. You look up expecting to see nothing but an empty room, a little caught off guard when that behemoth of a man is still looming near the door.

"We should really get you checked out," König says, giving a brief once-over at your disheveled appearance. Giving a noncommittal hum, you take a look down at yourself.

You had not bothered to take full stock of your person since the initial confrontation–and even that was a laughable inspection at best.

Every inch of your exposed skin–which, truthfully, wasn't much–was coated in a layer of mud and your own blood. Your thin civilian outfit was in a similar state of disrepair; caked in blood, more mud, and bits of stuck-on foliage as well. Accompanied with the occasional tear and hole here and there, of course.

"I'll get a medi-" Before he even gets the word out you're launching yourself up and off the bed. Charging at him despite how unsafe that currently is and reaching up to slam your grimy, gloved hand over where you assume his mouth is.

König quickly and easily peels your hand away by the wrist, staring down at you with less anger and more of a really, what are you doing? kind of look.

"Nie." (No.) You breathe as your only explanation. You had had enough of fucking medical staff in your time before your years-long solo operation began. Unknown injections, emotionless stares, and needles. Needles, needles, needles. So many fucking needles. You didn't visit those sterile, frigid laboratories often these days–though you were still required to come in every now and again for a routine 'checkup'.

"No?" König finally breaks through your suddenly hazy headspace–this time said fuzziness wasn't the result of excessive blood loss. You'd rather it were.

"Nie." You repeat again, and there must be something in your voice–something unlike yourself, something a bit too human–because König relents without further question and drops your arm.

"I can't really let you die on us, Maus." He points out with a deadpan stare. Then, probably realizing that phrasing sounded a bit too worried, he adds, "What use would you be to us then?"

"Let me do it."

"You can barely stand up straight and you expect me to hand you a needle?"

"I would rather me than you or some pea-brained white-coat." You huff, narrowing your still very unfocused gaze up at him. You hope it lands, you can't really see clearly right now.

König holds your stare for a few seconds longer before letting out a resigned sigh and looking away. "Fine."

He gives your uninjured shoulder a nudge with a gloved finger and rumbles a low, "Sit down."

You're about to bite back with some witty retort but the words get stuck in your throat when you realize just how close you two are. In your rush to cut off the words spewing from his mouth, you had somehow ended up crowding into his space in a very.. unprofessional way. Chest puffed up in a show of defiance and, subsequently, pressed right up against the other man.

That same, unfamiliar twinge in the furthest recesses of your mind from back in that god-awful storage unit begins to stir and you jolt away sharply. Jumping back and scurrying over to the cot at a faster rate than really necessary, as if that simple touch had burnt you. And, to be frank, it had. Indirectly.

König cocks his head, analyzing you for a brief moment, then shakes it off. Thank fuck. Having quickly averted your gaze, all you hear is some faint rustling and then his legs appear in your line of sight. A small first-aid box materializes from his hand and you lift your own trembling one to take it.

"Thanks." You mumble. You were a monster, not impolite.

König makes a light huff and retreats. Grateful for the, mostly likely unintended, room to breathe, you fumble with the kit before finally managing to wrench the damn thing open. Placing the box beside you on the bed you ungracefully free your first victim from its confines; your thigh.

Stab wound number one, thankfully, has stopped bleeding. On the other, far less favorable, hand, the injury is already a burning, angry red. A light poke at the inflamed skin with your finger has you hissing against the sharp sting.

Deciding keeping up appearances was much less important than your health, you make efficient work of removing both gloves. Also soaked with mud and blood, they would do no more than worsen what was already the beginnings of a very, very serious infection.

There's a bottle of saline solution in the kit and you uncap that first. Folding the bled-through, makeshift bandage in half, you use it to catch the liquid rather than letting the filthy solution drip onto the floor. After flushing out the wound as much as you can–without running the bottle dry, you've still got another to clean–the next step is the worst of them all. Stitches.

If you had it your way, you wouldn't use them at all. You had a tendency to forgo using a needle and thread whenever you could–only stooping to that level when it was absolutely vital. Like right now.

Even then, you only knew one form of sewing; intermittent sutures.

Tearing open a sterile needle packet you, surprisingly enough, make easy work of threading the surgical cotton through the eye of it. Pinching the slice shut with your non-dominant hand, you position the end of the curved metal about a centimeter from where the damn thing starts.

The first pierce of the needle into your tender flesh forces a strained whine from your throat, eyes beginning to water. You blink away the budding tears, exhale a shaky breath, and tie the thread off.

One suture down, an ungodly amount remaining.

Your hand only gets more unsteady as time goes on. Making each stitch more lopsided than the last.

Your vision swims for a brief moment and you swallow back the growing lump in your throat. Come on now, you can do this. You've done this so, so many times before. What was so different this time around?

Just a few more to go. That's all. Then you will be done.. well, then onto the puncture in your shoulder. The shoulder that also happened to be connected to your dominant hand. Great.

"Maus."

You can do this- just stab, push through- wait no, not like that. Pull it out again. Now, do it properly this time-

"Maus." Black gloves invade your sight and you grunt, trying to look around them.

The next time the needle pierces your skin it goes in just short of perfectly–success!–but it's good enough. Will keep your blood in, at least. Then comes tying it off and- come on, don't be difficult now.

Just toss over- like tha- wait, no. Just lift and- fuck.

A low rumble is all you hear and then those gloved fingers are wrapping around your wrist once more and effectively halting your progress. You huff, looking up to glare at him only to find his own hardened gaze staring down at you.

"-keep trying, you are only going to hurt yourself." Wait, had he been talking this whole time? "Then what use would you be then, hm? You would be of no help if you died because of your own damn stubbornness."

You feebly try to tug your hand back, but he doesn't budge, simply using his other hand to pluck the needle from your hand. Narrowing your eyes, you do the only thing you can do; throwing hundreds of imaginary knives at that stupid smug look in his eyes and internally cursing him out.

After your two's little staring contest goes on long enough for your captured hand to start going numb, you relent. Letting out a heavy sigh and dropping your gaze.

König makes a small noise of approval and releases your wrist. You don't watch as he finishes up the mess of stitches sewn into your thigh, nausea returning with a vengeance and forcing you to shut your eyes again.

He finishes up relatively quickly, faster than you probably could have in this state, and rinses the wound again before pasting a bandage over it.

"I need you to look up."

"Hm?" Light pressure under your chin causes your eyelids to flutter back open and you frown.

"Wha-?"

"Up." He reasserts, using his guiding touch to urge your head up and out of the way. Forcing you to straighten out your shrimp-like posture and provide König with access to your injured shoulder.

Said shoulder that was more bruises and blood than it was untouched flesh; able to get a decent look at it now that König had removed the sloppy work that was your mess of torn fabric and duct tape.

He repeats the same steps you had to clean the wound and this time you watch. Less so keeping an eye on the weeping wound and more so on the hand sticking the–new, he had discarded the one used on your thigh–thin metal through your skin. He's surprisingly delicate with it, despite his size he is far more precise with his sutures than you had been. Carefully inserting the needle and tying off every knot with practiced ease. Unlike you, he hadn't foregone his gloves, and that's why you notice it when you do. Having been so attuned to his busy hands.

His gloves are still stained with your blood.

Coated in a thick, dried layer of it. Dark against the already black fabric, flakes of crimson chipping off and drawing your eye.

It was the only part of him that showed any hint of wear from the morning's efforts. Every other inch of his uniform was speck-free, not a single item out of place, scuff mark, or splatter of blood.

It didn't make much sense for you to be fixated on such a minor facet after the laborious events of today. There were so many other things to draw your attention. Like the repeated motions of the curved metal puncturing your skin over and over again, for example. Or maybe his close proximity–accompanied by that weird feeling again.

But, no. Every last bit of your remaining attention span was focused solely on your own blood marking his hands. You sounded insane, even to yourself and that was an entire feat of its own.

You release a small breath of relief when he pulls away, slapping on another thick bandage over your second, freshly stitched injury. Then comes a sudden sting right above your eyebrow and you jolt away with a hiss.

Refocusing back into reality, König is still standing above you. Only this time he's welding an antiseptic-soaked cotton ball, also tarnished with your blood.

"Cut is deep." Is the vague explanation you get, coupled with a small gesture to your face. "No stitches will be needed. But,"

He reaches down to rifle through the first aid kit and makes a soft sound of victory when he finds whatever he's looking for. Holding your face still in one hand, he dabs at the cut a few more times before switching sides and drying it off. König throws the dirtied cotton along with wherever he'd discarded the scraps of your clothes and other miscellaneous trash.

Next comes another burning sting as he presses something over the wound. A few 'something's.

"A few pieces of tape should do the trick." He muses as he smoothes the sterile strips against your skin, the faint metallic scent of your own blood flooding your senses. Gross.

You really needed some sleep, or maybe it was finally time to check yourself into some kind of mental reform. Seriously, this was getting out of hand.

"Now," König pulls away for the final time, doing a brief scan of your exhausted form and nodding to himself. "Sleep."

You half expected König to leave it at that, to exit the room like the other four had. And probably lock the door behind him. Your hopes are crushed when he takes a seat a few feet away from your cot, settling into an uncomfortable-looking chair you hadn't noticed beforehand.

Oh, right. The Captain had assigned him as your personal babysitter. How fucking lovely.

Scooting back to slump against the wall furthest away from the other man, you send him a weak glare. Wanting nothing more than to argue that you can't sleep like this–not with him watching over you like some damn stalker–you find that when you try, you can't.

For what feels like the millionth time today, your eyelids droop until you cannot resist any longer. Falling completely shut and likely not going to open for a while, you give in. Unable to find it in yourself to give a damn right now.

Besides, you could.. moderately trust König wouldn't murder you in your slumber. He hasn't yet. And that seems to be enough for your sleep-deprived brain, as sweet unconsciousness soon drags you under.

___

One | Two | Masterpost | Next

___

(finally figured out how to tag y'all properly! Sorry bout that. Thought I was doing it right this whole time 😞)

@cptg00s3 @ruthgrimxiao @20nerd04-blog @gloma08 @mikahrh @in-down @hauntedapplefarm @mello-life69 @unkn0wnd3ad @tayaisback @starre-eyes @ravage-reposts @suhmie

If you want to be added to the tag list, let me know in the comments!

#call of duty #cod x male reader #male reader #call of duty x male reader #call of duty x reader #könig cod #könig x male reader #reader insert #gay #mlm

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kwillow · 1 year

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Ambroys basking in his cache of gifts and sweet words from secret admirers. Gotta be careful, though. If his ego is inflated any more, he'll pop.

(I wanted to doodle something to accompany a post answering some messages regarding this candy-colored cad but got a bit carried away. :P Well regardless, asks under the cut!)

Why thank you! He would drunkenly insult people, though he tends to be more passive-aggressive and backhanded rather than outright insulting - well, most of the time, anyway. He thinks he's a lot more subtle in his derogatory comments than he actually is.

Aaaw, this is too sweet!

Older Ambroys is much more reserved about seeking and accepting physical affection than his younger self, for myriad reasons (that one day I will expound upon in more detail, fate willing). He still enjoys it, though.

He's still proud of the stars on his cheeks and the gold in his hair and all that, but the signs of age are something he is not at peace with. For some, like the wrinkles, they're a sign that his time on this earth is finite - and death terrifies him. For others, like his paunch, it's more just embarrassing to him in a more mundane and vain "I was voted Prom King in high school and I was on the Varsity track team now look at me I'm an old man boo hoo hoo" type of way (though he's actually more physically adept in his older age than he was when he was younger for Magical Heritage Bullshit reasons, the sentiment remains).

As for your question, it's totally fine with me for Ambroys to be portrayed as non-heterosexual in fanfic or fanart or one's secret imaginings. Even though all of his "canon" love interests are women, I wouldn't rule out of the possibility of him developing affections for someone who isn't a woman. Chase your bliss!

Haha well both furry and aasimar Ambroys would bask in the attention, though poor aasimar Ambroys' jealousy is not going to be helped!

No shame on being a furry though. I didn't consider myself one either but I feel like it's harder to make the argument that I'm not given the sheer number of ponies I've drawn by now...

He would accept this, so long as you don't mess up his hair.

He would say: "good!" I would say "don't waste your life on him!"

Oh he would be pleased to be so distracting, I'm sure.

And sometimes we can't help but to have a type... I know I seem to have a thing for rich effete douchebags with buck teeth and big pointy noses... not quite sure what's up with that.

Yessss... yesssssssss... or perhaps I should say "I'm sorry."

I didn't mean to make him this way... I guess I underestimated the power of a brushable mane.

Ambroys DOES like being worshipped (way too much and way too literally, as you might be able to tell) but he wants to have his imperfections hidden if he can!

He's just horribly, horribly vain and unwilling to let go of his youth... even though he got to enjoy being youthful for three times as long as a mortal would.

YES that song is on his playlist (which I have for all my main characters because I'm a dork). It's just too perfect. One of the many ideas on my miles-long to do list has to do with depicting a scene from that song. The trouble is that it has to do with dancing, and boy am I not very good at drawing dancing poses. xD Oh well, gotta try for the boy!

Heh well I think we could agree that a normal horse probably couldn't pull off the breeches he wears quite so well... I'm flattered that you think of him when you see horsies in the flesh! Huzzah, I've ruined one of the Earth's beautiful creatures for you! >:)

Oh wow, my guy is stepping out of my brain and into other people's subconsciouses... I need to put a leash on him. :P But this was a fun read!

It's very in character Ambroys to try to undercut a rival's self-esteem by framing it as something OTHER people say, but oh no, he'd NEVER say something like that, of course. Mean girl behavior. He does have friends that don't actually like him - and he doesn't like them either. But one needs to have friends for appearance's sake - just one more accessory, really!

OKAY, I think that's everything! Or at least enough for this post, ahah.

Thanks to everyone for your kind words on my not-so-kind character.

Unlike him, I'm really humbled and grateful by the positive reception he's received. I deeply appreciate your kind messages... even when it takes me eons to reply to them, gah.

#my draws #ambroys #amaranthine #asks #technically?#furry #unicorn #some of these are months old i'm so sorry Dx #my excuse this time is that I have what I fear is an RSI developing in my wrist/arm #so I'm trying to limit drawing/typing #alas... just can't catch a break between work and the limits of my weak human form

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quinloki · 8 months

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as somebody who is really interested in tarot but is SO BAD at memorizing the card meanings (i've decided to just make my own custom oracle deck at this point), i'm curious if you had any headcanons/thematic ties between the major arcana and one piece characters??

hope this isn't too far out of left field! <3

IT IS NOT - THIS IS FANTASTIC

Two of my favorite things - MY TWO FAVORITEST THINGS IF I HAD TO PICK \o/ THIS IS LIKE A FREE CHRISTMAS

Forgive me, this'll be a bit off the top of my head, so I may make adjustments at some later date, but I absolutely MUST do my best to answer this RIGHT NOW. (I'm vibrating I'm so delighted by this \lol/)

0 The Fool/Luffy - The Fool isn't an idiot, as some people assume based on the name of the card, he's on a journey - as a matter of fact, it's a journey he takes *through* the major arcana. He learns about the world, and himself - about injustices and his own morals and limits. The Fool is about the journey.

1 The Magician/Shanks - The Magician is effectively the Fool's first teacher. The Magician card is as above, so below. He's all the major suits, he's magic and power. Good or Evil isn't relevant (though generally it's always positive to see this card).

2 The High Priestess/Nami - The Priestess is strong girl power - well, strong "things we often associate with feminine energy". She doesn't back down, she knows her strengths, and her weaknesses. There's a bluntness here too, and a fierceness. It's very "That look Nami gave Sanji on Whole Cake Island."

3 The Empress/Nico Robin - The Empress is more a motherly vibe and less a Strong Boss Lady vibes. She's caring, nurturing, protective, but not restrictive. There's a caring vibe that resonates with this that isn't really found in the Priestess.

4 The Emperor/Jinbei - I'm just name some moments - Making Luffy remember his nakama, giving him his blood, not joining when he wanted too - joining when he could do it right. Supporting Luffy even from a distance. Stern, strong, wise, educated, Supportive. Big Good Masculine Vibes.

5 The Hierophant/Monkey D. Garp - The hierophant is a teacher of sorts, kind of a societal vibe vs what The Magician teaches. Here to show you the path you "should" travel. Not necessarily the path you're going to want to travel - just know the road's probably going to be bumpier if you don't listen to him, but contextually, it could be more rewarding.

6 The Lovers/Roronoa Zoro - The Lovers Does NOT MEAN JUST ROMANTIC LOVE or sexy love or whatever. The Lovers is a card about dedication, devotion - being there for someone completely, and that person being there for you completely. Partners. This is a good Kid x Killer vibe card too.

7 The Chariot/Thousand Sunny - The Chariot is about motion, but controlled motion. There's generally no reins being depicted for this card (sometimes there is), but the person is still in control. The crew didn't have much direction when the Merry Go was their ship, but comparatively, they did with Sunny.

8 Strength/Usopp - Strength isn't usually talking about physical strength. It's strength of will. Why Usopp? Facing off against Luffy was an immense show of strength, and his growth after that was even more so. It's very much inline with the card.

9 The Hermit/Sanji - The Hermit doesn't *want* to be alone, but the Hermit often needs it. Not the kind of alone that means shoving everyone away, the kind of alone that sits on the bow of the ship and contemplates their sense of self. Sanji has a lot of work to do in this, but I also think he's a character who has done a LOT of it long before he met Zeff.

10 Wheel of Fortune/The whole bloody series honestly - The Wheel Turns, and things change. This card means whatever is going on now, isn't going to be going on tomorrow. The good times will end, the bad times won't last forever. Everything changes. Appreciate the good while you can, and weather the hard times knowing they won't last.

11 Justice/ - Hrm.

12 The Hanged Man/Trafalgar Law - Sometimes the best thing to do is nothing at all. Sometimes you need to just Stop and Think about things. Maybe Law over thinks sometimes (he certainly has the whole "sacrifice oneself for the greater good" vibe going one, which can also be a thing for this card.)

13 Death/The Going Merry - Change is inevitable, and while the Wheel is about day to day changes, Death is about BIG changes. Changes that don't leave you the same as they found you. Changes that can break you if you don't roll with them - Changes you CANNOT outrun.

14 Temperance/Several Characters- Temperance is about balance, a lot like Justice, but with Temperance there is emotion that you don't find in Justice. My knee jerky reaction places several characters here - Robin's mom, Nami's mom, and Rosinante (my apologies for being bad with names and not wanting to break from this to look them up.) These people all had a strong connection to temperance - doing what needed done, not because of logic or justice, but because of love.

15 The Devil/Doflamingo - The Devil is about choice. Generally it's about negative choices and not positive ones, because it's about the chains that bind us to the things that pull us down. It's about crumbling and failing because we chose to do things the way we did. I liken Doffy to this, since we often don't see what it is we're doing wrong, and with the wrong people around us, well, we just keep going headlong into the wrong path. (Doffy isn't the devil in this card, Trebol could be, but Doffy is definitely the one in chains).

16 The Tower/Marine ford - I don't know that I really need to say anything else ^^;

17 The Star/Silvers Rayleigh - Thinking back to how this is story of journey for the Fool, Rayleigh is the perfect character to follow Marine Ford. He didn't heal Luffy like Law did, he didn't heal him like how Jinbei did. He just offered hope - a chance to recover from the rough and harsh lessons that came before him, and make sure Luffy could continue forward on his own.

18 The Moon/Momonosuke - Wary, anxious - the moon is about intuition, but not "oh I knew they were gonna kiss" kinds of intuition. It's about knowing something is wrong, something is looming, something is unavoidable and you don't know WHY you're nervous and afraid (or maybe you have an inkling) you just are. The moon is fear of the unknown, and it's not a card that has any answers most of the time - you just have to get through it.

19 The Sun/Sabo - It's his memories coming back, him meeting Luffy in the Coliseum, eating the fruit, holding that newspaper to his chest and smiling like a DOOF when he sees his little brother is doing well. It wasn't necessarily all rainbows, but there's clarity there - everything is illuminated, no shadows. Shit hurt for a while, but he can see the good in it all.

20 Judgement/Portgas D. Ace - This card isn't so much about wiping the slate clean, as it is realizing that all your flaws, scars, mistakes, etc. have helped make you who you are. It's about accepting your flaws and either incorporating them, or improving yourself to lessen them. Honestly the most heart breaking thing about Ace is how he was doing this, he just never got the chance to see it through.

21 The World/Joy Boy - I'll just leave this as this for now. ^_^

#quin answers #quin muses #one piece #off the top of my head #tarot #tarot x one piece vibes

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clownprince · 1 year

Text

Joker's motivations in Joker War

Now idk if I was the only one initially confused by wtf Joker's actual intentions were in Joker War. Maybe I'm just a bit schewpid and everyone else got it but regardless here's my attempt to piece together what's going on in his weird little mind.

Imho, the first lines we get about Joker's underlying intentions are here:

It's extremely important that he was aware of Bruce's intentions to redesign the city. That was definitely the catalyst for the whole thing.

Speaking of Bruce's plans to redesign the city:

He mentions multiple times that his goal is to build a city that doesn't need a Batman.

Regardless of whether he actually mentioned something like this at a press conference or something, I'm sure Joker would be able to pick up on it anyway.

And it's very well-established that Joker needs Batman. The Best Man arc has this whole beautiful monologue about it:

Joker NEEDS Batman. A city without Batman is a city with no place for Joker.

The whole Best Man arc takes during the same year (year 17) as Joker War (prior to it, obviously).

The Batcat engagement took place in year 16. (In which Batman also had Joker locked up in his basement. And he deliberately tracked down amnesiac!Joker and made him Normal Joker again so he could get information. Yowza! Not cool, Bats.)

Additionally, the events of Endgame took place on year 15 and Death of the Family in year 14.

Joker reveals more of his motivations in the final fight scene between him and Batman:

Very interesting that Joker initially chooses to stab Batman in the back. Hmm I wonder if that has any deeper meaning or reveals anything about Joker's own feelings in this situation /sar.

Also very, very, very significant that Joker chooses to battle Batman in that particular suit, after he essentially desecrates it:

So, by now, it's apparent that Joker's direct intention with Joker War was to essentially destroy the possibility of Bruce's vision of Gotham:

He even directly says that all of this was about them.

Hm... I don't think he's just talking about the city, here...

And then we have this:

There's been a recurring theme since Death of the Family, that Bruce isn't being the Batman that Joker wants him to be.

To me, this line feels like "okay, Batman is ruined irreparably, let's just destroy him and start over from scratch."

Then we have this panel. Whew. I think this might be one of the most revealing panels in the entirety of Joker War, largely because of how Joker is depicted in it.

He doesn't look angry, he looks genuinely distraught.

And I didn't notice this until someone else pointed it out but if you zoom in, it definitely looks like he's crying.

I don't think this is just an artistic thing, largely because of this panel from a few issues back:

So those are definitely tears of laughter. But it looks roughly the same. Except based on the context and his expression, I don't think those are tears of laughter in Joker War. At the very least, he's hysterical.

Somewhat of a tangent but it's important to tie everything together: Joker War reminds me very much of DOTF and Endgame in that Joker is depicted (or tries to portray himself) as this terrifying, ruthless, inhuman thing, but if you actually look into his motivations, he's being driven by his emotions, particularly his feelings about Batman, which are almost inarguably the most human part of him.

In DOTF he talks about how Batman isn't being the Batman he wants him to be and yadda yadda, but then in the tie-ins, we have this section, which I think does a beautiful job of explaining his real motivations:

It's jealousy. Jealousy and fear. He's terrified of losing Batman.

And then there's a similar thing in Endgame.

Initially, he says this:

"Haha yeah I'm just bored of you lol."

But then in the final scene we get this:

He's not bored, he's heartbroken. He's genuinely hurt by Batman (in his perception) rejecting him, and he's lashing out in a major way.

I think it's definitely similar in Joker War, except he's not as afraid of losing Batman to the Batfam, more so he's afraid that Bruce's new design for the city will eliminate the need for a Batman, although the Batcat almost-wedding and Bruce's growing family definitely play a role in his motivations.

I think that might be where his whole idea of making Batman start over with nothing came from. Because when Bruce started, he didn't really have anyone except for Alfred, and later Dick.

I think that Joker could tolerate him having a few allies but he can't handle the idea of Batman having an actual family. Both because he doesn't want to share Batman's attention, and because he doesn't have a family, so why does Batman get to have one? Why does Batman get to connect with people when the only person he's truly connected to is Batman? He wants Bats to be as dependent on him as he is on Bats.

So, that's just my Hot Take (read: mediocre interpretation) of Joker War. I wasn't too fond of the storyline until I kinda pieced everything together and it's still not my favorite arc but I definitely like it better than I did initially.

#batjokes #joker war #meta #my silly little thoughts #my timeline might be slightly off my only source was the batman continuity project lol #i am not putting myself through the hell that is tom king's run #and i haven't read batman metal and all that shit yet #i'm going based off of the rebirth timeline though if that isn't clear #my stuff

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chaifootsteps · 7 months

Note

Alastar rant: I've known Vivziepop since I was 11, I'm 23 now, and let me tell you. He is proof she hasn't changed as a person only opting to double down, especially in the area racism and culture appropriation is concerned.

Heads up this is addressing the fact he's supposed to be a wendigo, but also addresses the fact he is more like a Skinwalker. I'm not censoring either of these words so this post doesn't bypass people's attempts at filtering these words out of their Tumblr feed, as someone who has had filtered content go left untagged properly and bypass my own filters.

With out any further notice:

So like Al is a weird odd ball case, he's mixed, specifically Creole which according to Google is a potential mix of French, Black and Native American, but doesn't generally specify, it seems to be a catch-all term for anyone vaguely meeting those standards and was from in Louisiana during the french and Spanish periods. It's a grey area that isn't exclusive to those ethnicities but Google suggests it commonly refers to those groups, especially slaves. Former and then current slaves. It doesn't mean you're black automatically, or native but one of the two and most definitely if not highly likely mixed or racially ambitious. I'm not here to speculate on what specifically Al is just on other things about him.

I will say I don't remember this detail from back in the day and that it's 100% a much newer addition to his track record of notes and stuff to who he is as a person, character, concept, etc. And that the jokes about him being Vivziepop's edgy black and red middle school deviant oc aren't actually jokes but facts. And given overall the only major changes he went through is he's now Creole and he's got less black in his overall colour palette.

Him having "voodoo" powers but poorly depicted ones isn't the only culture appropriation he's got under his belt. Before his powers were seemingly defined as being specifically lovecraft's version of what voodoo is, (and I say that because in the pilot he summons a lovecraftian tentacle monster from a mortal to take down Sir Pentis) his man thing was he was more a shapeshifting deer cryptid, and was described as by Viv herself, wendigo inspired.

Now, coupled with the fact his powers are lovecraftian inspired, there is something to note here. The wendigo has a history, a very modern history of having its pop media depiction getting changed drastically, from a frosty ghoul that grows in height with each meal consumed never being able to fill it's stomach as punishment for its acts of cannibalism during it's previous life as a human. To a deer skull headed humanoid that can sometimes shapeshift and mimic human voices, maybe other acts of paranormal but unspecified magic.

This depiction doesn't originate from Lovecraft himself, but rather some righting their own spin off lovecraftian horror and admitted (allegedly) to make the changes they did because they wanted a scarier monster for their story, instead of just making up a monster or reaching for a monster he thought was infact scarier. I don't remember the author and it's not that important to this only vaguely coherent ramble rant. The only other important thing to note about this earliest reported shift of depiction is that it pulls heavily from the skinwalker, an often agreed if depicted correct scarier monster because of how it preys on a lot of primal human fears.

Skinwalkers (or Skinnies) have some things in common with Wendis, (wendigos) such as a thin, dirty, corpse like figure, in their "normal" form, but also a tendency to cannibalism, but its not a necessary for skinnies, as they'll prey on just about anything. Both are also formerly human.

But that's it. Unlike a Wendi, skinnies can shapeshift, they aren't limited to much, but seemingly take forms of prey previous or soon to be prey, coyotes, dogs, DEER and humans are this the most common, while larger prey like moose, bear and horses are uncommon or outright rare, but I've heard a story or two personally. They only take on what they can reasonably take down it would seem. Additionally the only other limit I hear of is no raven or crows.

Also while not a limit, this seems to be commonly reported: lack of tails in animal form, forms in various states of decay and injury, human like eyes in animal form, animal like eyes in human form, and also have a "jointless, noodle limbed gait" like walk. They also seem most comfortable in humanoid form as this walk isn't reported as often in human form and it's very common for people claiming to have seen them and report upright walking animals. Given they themselves are former humans this does make sense.

In their human lives they were- and this is where the fact Al knows "voodoo magic" comes into relevancy, usually former native American medicine men. But they basically appropriated it, twisting it to benefit them, and generic using it in destructive, disrespectful ways while dabbling in other taboo things often murder and cannibalism. This is actually where their ability to shapeshift comes from, them basically trading away their morality and humanity for power.

So like him being Creole in this list makes sense, especially given their are similar creatures to the skinwalkers in other cultures, shapeshifters who are sometimes former medicine men who use animal pelts, furs, bones as well as what they've learned from their former lives as healers to gain power and shapeshifting capabilities, there's also an African counterpart! I forgot what little I know about beyond ..it exists.

So given what I know about slaves during the time period Alastar is from, that many did bring over their cultures from their relative regions including ones that have magic and spiritual rites and rituals, voodoo included, like i can see Alastar as Skinwalker who was a former Creole man who abused and appropriated his own ethnic cultures to gain power over those who hurt him and those around him he cared about and just loosing himself drunk off power, but that's not what Viv intended. It's not what he was originally, nor does making him creole years later fix what has been done.

Like she called him wendigo inspired despite basing himself off the skinwalker inspired pop media depiction of wendigo. And while she's free to change her OC's race which that's all he is. He is HER oc, people deciding one day that they want to rewrite major aspects of their character including what race they are are free to do so but it's very clear to me as someone who's been following her work for a decade or so now that he was never meant to be representation, let alone a character that could be used in a way to depict a story about a poc who wanted to hurt his abusers and oppressors only to loose himself in the process because of the methods he choose thus telling a tale of humanity and what being at someone's lowest breaking point can do to a person. Or if he did it to protect a loved one, etc. etc. etc. like theirs room for nuance.

Just one small problem with trying to come up with these nuances to not justify, but come to the conclusion as how he got this way.

It's blatantly obvious this is not what she intended to do with him to begin with and it's clear that's not a route she'll ever take with him and honestly given her lack of ability to decently write morally grey characters or generally morally fucked character you can see yourself rooting for she would not have the skill let alone talent to write that nuance. She's literally just culturally appropriating multiple cultures, native and African because of the aesthetic without thinking of nuances you'd need to bring to the table in using these details on a character who's supposed to be villainous and heinous.

It just doesn't work. Like it could but Vivziepop isn't the kinda of artist who can make it work and coupled with WHY he is what he is on a meta level it's just not gonna work. It's just culture appropriation.

Thanks for listening to my ramble rant that's only middle coherent to why I don't think he's entirely irredeemable as a character concept on paper, but the fact his Creator seems to think a wendigo and Skinwalker are interchangeable names for the same creature is proof he's always been cultural appropriation even before he was rewritten to creole and thus so long as shes in charge of him that character concept redemption will never come.

No admittedly edgy but nuanced exploration of humanity and basically hitting the viewers head with a baseball bat with messages like power corrupts and skinwalkers bad, don't be a Skinwalker. We don't get that and never will even if it would be far far more interesting story to tell in the right hands.

Because Viv culturally appropriates without research and can't write for shit.

In short? Vivzie's got about 38 seconds of research in her for any given topic, which is especially disastrous when it comes to real life cultures.

#Anonymous #vivziepop critical #actual blog post

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aladaylessecondblog · 1 month

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Red Mountain Waffle House pt. 3

When Sadara first start working, the walk to work wasn't that bad. Sure, she and Jiub had to keep an eye out, and keep their hands on the company issued swords. Sure, there were cliffracers. Sure, there were corprus monsters, and the occasional skooma-head. Sure, she'd been nicked by one of the crazier ash monsters. Well, bitten, rather, but Jiub had helped her toss the guy out and cleaned up the wound.

It wasn't that bad. They, as Jiub was so fond of saying, had faced a lot worse. Like when they'd lived on the Waterfront in the Imperial City those couple of years. As long as they kept Sadara's ring covered up, and didn't make eye contact with any of the addicts or corprus monsters, and kept a watch around them, it wasn't that dangerous.

And night shift could be fairly pleasant, when there wasn't someone fighting or making a nuisance of themselves. When Nibani was there sometimes she'd even put something on the jukebox while they all did some cleaning up...as they were all doing tonight.

"Did you two clean out the fryer like I told you?"

"Yeah, yeah, Jiub's just, uh...he's washing the baskets out. They were just extra-clogged today."

(What Sadara did NOT say was that the hot water was out in the shithole their landlord called an apartment, and so Jiub was bathing in the enormous backroom sink.)

And then there was a sound she had not yet heard in her time living and working in Red Mountain.

The sound of rain on the roof.

Nibani stirred from the back off, and opened all the window blinds.

"It's nice to see rain," Sadara gave a slight smile, "Isn't it? I hope it'll go on a while, we could use it right now."

"This isn't about liking rain," came the harried reply, "Because it doesn't just up and RAIN here around Red Mountain."

"What's the deal? It's only rain."

"It is NOT only RAIN. Lesson...I'm not even counting anymore. Something you should hold to if you forget everything else I tell you. When it's raining, Dagoth Ur is out and about."

"Dagoth...what, the evil guy in the volcano?"

"Evil guy in the--that demon is no mere mer! You outlanders--you don't understand the danger he presents. The blight winds spread his disease and his dreams. And those who fall under his influence--"

"He's dangerous, I get it. But I was always under the impression that he never left the volcano. At least that's what everyone here has told me."

"Of course the dunmer of the Great Houses would say such things. They don't know. They don't know what it is to--" Nibani was silent for a minute, and walked closer to the window, squinting, and murmuring, "When old Dagoth goes walking, he comes with the rains, the dead follow after, and all hope he drains."

"What's that?"

"An old ashlander song. If he comes in--"

"Be prepared to fight?" Sadara asked, "I'll handle him."

"You will do no such thing!" Nibani burst out, "Do you have a death wish?"

"If I can handle a drunk guy with a broken bottle I can handle this Dagoth guy. And I don't mean fighting. Did you think I was going to go out swinging? I know how to play the game. You want me to be diplomatic, and I will be."

"But not too polite. Or he'll think you're interested in joining his...'family.'"

"I don't think we have to worry about that." Jiub finally emerged from the back room, and went to the grill.

"Where's your shirt?"

"Wet. I fell in the sink."

"The same as with the sleepers and dreamers, then." Sadara looked back to Nibani, took a momentary breath, lit a cigarette, and got a few puffs in before replying again. "It'll be FINE. He's probably out testing the Ghostfence for weaknesses, or...something. Old man hobbies."

From what she had heard of Dagoth Ur so far, that was how she imagined him. Oh sure, the pamphlets talked him up, painted a nice picture of what image they wanted to put forward, but she was pretty sure no man, even a god, would be looking like that. She remembered depictions of the Nine back in Cyrodiil, how a few people had seen them in dreams. Sure they would be pretty, or majestic, but they'd be dressed.

Only an old man had this kind of chutzpah, to go about wearing a loincloth like he was said to do.

(Imagining him like this was better, too, than just being out and out scared like some of the others. Took the edge of it off a little.)

Nibani, however, would not be so easily calmed down about it. She kept a watch out by one of the windows as she worked on the next week's schedules. They had four or five Temple pilgrims come in, too, equally frightened. They ordered to-go boxes and left quickly.

The rain grew heavier, and Nibani stiffened at one point. She leaned up to the window by the plant, and looked carefully out.

"Azura preserve me..."

"What? Big temple group?"

"It's him," she said in a strained voice. "Him!"

"Alright, calm down and we'll handle it," Sadara replied, "I'm sure he can't be up here for very much. He'll come, maybe intimidate us, and leave. What use does he have for waffles?"

"Man's gotta eat," Jiub shrugged. "Hey, when did you get the Ald'ruhn 700s?"

"The other day." Sadara got a few of them out. Not until they sorted this little gift did she finally look up to the window again.

Someone was definitely coming up the path, someone frankly enormous. Tall as hell, wearing very little, and as they passed under the sign, the light it gave glinted off...the mask.

That mask, the one that the temple pilgrims and non-Tribunal faithful alike seemed so fearful of. THAT mask.

She took a deep breath and resolved to be as polite as possible. She talked a big enough game with fighting, but really, there'd be far less injuries with words than with weapons. But, she thought, keeping her hand on the Waffle House branded iron sword, it was good to be ready.

The bell at the door rung, the mer ducked, and entered.

The first time she laid eyes on Dagoth Ur, Sadara could only think that the pamphlets had only been exaggerating a little bit. He was built well, exactly the sort of body made for showing off. It left nearly nothing to the imagination, that loincloth, though. He had to be freezing...or fuck it, she thought, he was a god, did it really matter what he wore if he could control so much else?

"Will you be needing a towel?" she asked, "We've got some dry ones."

There wasn't an immediate answer. The mask turned at the noise, and looked in her direction. Its gaze moved down, looking right at the ring on her finger, before moving back up. He reached up, and twisted at his lengthy dark hair, wringing it out.

"That would be advantageous, yes."

His voice was rather lyrical, in a way. Not quite a baritone. A deep tenor.

She handed over a towel, and went back to cleaning the table in front of her, then once he'd taken a seat she walked back over.

"Coffee, I imagine? After a trip in that weather you must need warming up."

He agreed, and she brought it over. There was a brief moment of skin contact and she mused briefly that he didn't seem cold. He was a dead god, a dead man, they all said, and yet he was warm? Interesting.

"Something on your mind?"

He'd noticed, and trying not to anger him she hurriedly said, "I've been told you're...undead, and yet you're warm. Forgive me for--for musing on that."

He laughed, and despite not seeing his face she could almost see the smile. Certainly she could hear it in that jovial sound.

"I hope in future you won't pay heed to such rumors. I can be as warm as I please."

That was when the mask came down, and the cup of coffee was lifted to his lips.

Sadara had a moment to look. High cheekbones, two red eyes as expected, but on his forehead was opened a third. The two below were focused on the cup, but the third met her own, and she looked quickly away, not eager to be caught staring.

"I've had a few of your...ah...followers here, trying to steal my plant," she finally said, having grasped for a subject to speak on that wasn't his lack of dress or third eye. "They keep saying it belongs to you. I suppose you've come to collect it?"

"No, nothing of the sort. And frankly, I'm of a mind to let you keep it. Has it flourished?"

"Oh, yes, unlike all the other plants I've ever kept," Sadara gave a brief laugh. "I've got a black thumb, if you'd believe it, never grown anything from seed to flower on my own. Normally I'd kill a plant without even meaning to, but this one..."

"This one simply grows for you."

There was a smile then, and she had a sudden strange feeling of déjà vu.

"Yeah..."

He asked about several things while he sat there, drinking the coffee and later eating the waffle covered in several different syrups. And when Nibani left for the back office, he asked another question.

"Have you been injured?" he pointed to the bandage on her arm.

"That? Oh...well, a week ago," Sadara shrugged. "Someone decided it was a fantastic idea to bite me and I've been--I covered it with antiseptics and put a bandage over it even after healing it, just in case."

"And you've been well since then?" Dagoth Ur sounded concerned, and she reminded herself it was an act.

"Well enough. I haven't noticed anything strange like they said it would if it turned out to be..."

"Corprus." His expression shifted into the slightest of smiles. "Let me see it. No one could tell you better if that is indeed what it was."

"It's not necessary, really." But not wanting to be rude she uncovered the spot to show the healing scar. "I'm fairly certain if it was the divine disease...I'd be breaking out in a rash right now."

"Unless, of course..."

One of those long-fingered hands moved over the wound as Dagoth Ur's sentence petered out. After a slight glow--a diagnostic spell, she recognized it--he looked up with something of a smile.

"It is indeed corprus."

"But how--I would've been--"

"There is one circumstance which would explain this," and here his tone brightened even more, "And everything else here, too. The ring, the plant. And that explanation is that you are Nerevar reborn."

"What?"

Nerevar reborn? THAT old story? Everyone here said it was lies, said it wasn't possible. Well not everyone--Nibani seemed to believe it.

He withdrew his hand, paid, and left. With him went the rain, which over the next hour slowed and then stopped.

But his departure had kicked off a whole other storm in her head.

#sad wet cat voryn is coming later lol #right now hes dressing to impress #turning on the old charm #dagoth ur #morrowind #fanfiction #nerevarine #tes #tesblr #elder scrolls

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fluidfox123 · 8 months

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Izzy Hands is a complex, dynamic, and well-rounded character. The fandom's depiction of making him a flat, simple, all-villain and all-hero character–when it isn't silly-haha and having fun (obviously because me too, girlie, me too)–but as a genuine, serious perspective of his character and his place in the show is something that I would like to point out.

So, obviously, some of this fandom has strong ass opinions about Izzy Hands, and I have seen so many takes on him, especially with the release of the first season 2 episodes. Now, for those of you who don't know (for any new fans), Izzy Hands is the first mate to Blackbeard's crew and frequently, in season 1, was uptight, persuading Edward Teach to do things he didn't really want to do (Kill Stede Bonnet, act a certain way around the crew, not show weakness, act on another side to him that was present on the Revenge, etc.)

This has caused a lot of fandom splitting on opinions about him, especially his toxicity to vulnerability when Ed was heartbroken over Stede leaving, Ed and Izzy having more than a captain and first mate relationship, his actions towards the crew, and so on other unpleasant things he's done. This has caused fandom to view him as homophobic (at times internalized), masochistic, an abuser, and villainized. Other parts of the fandom see him as a victim of societal symbolism, a scorned lover (going through a divorce), a one-sided lover, and an actual hero for not only the progression of the story but Ed and Stede's relationship.

A lot of the fandom is insanely split on this, so split I've seen entire arguments about it and people pulling some unbelievable shit over some lil guy in a comedy-emotionally-symbolic pirate show, so I am here to say, very loudly and clearly: Izzy Hands ain't no villain or hero, no abuser or victim. I am here to say he is fucking BOTH simultaneously and that he isn't more of one or the fucking other. He has two hands, and both hold the complex nature of humanity as the beautifully well-rounded character he is.

To get the ugliest explanation out of the way, the idea of an abuser being a victim and a victim being an abuser is something that, I believe, is something that has to be considered when speaking of Izzy Hands, especially concerning Edward Teach. Like, practically ESSENTIAL, if you want to dive into the meat of their relationship. And I don't just mean that as in, like, "Izzy Hands fucked over Edward emotionally to the point of mentally breaking him and then got physically abused in return by the man he mentally broke with his idiocy," BUT ALSO through the lens of "Edward AND Izzy have spent long years in a hell they can't escape in the line of work they have been forced to stay in, even by those who are supposed to be by their side/society, and in turn twisted the dagger into the stomach of those who placed it on them."

Now, to clarify, in similar terms, Izzy Hands–someone who is affected by the view of what piracy is supposed to be by literally everyone outside of the Revenge and Blackbeard's ship, as shown in season 1–has abused Edward emotionally, brought upon him ideas that harm him and tear that man apart to the point of feeding into his suicide ideations that have been present from the very beginning. At the same time, Edward has internalized those views and reflected them upon the one who hurt him and others. Izzy Hands and Edward Teach are victims of an idea of what is "right" for them to do, be, and believe, and CONTINUE that cycle by feeding it into the other.

Now, this show isn't the real world, no matter how much you want it to be, so pointing out who is more or not problematic is like looking at a lineup of Hannibal Lecter from multiple types of media and trying to decide who did cannibalism and murder the nicest. They're PIRATES; they KILL people. The fact is that this show uses death and fighting as something that is not serious, goofy even, and injury to the main characters as EMOTIONAL, SYMBOLIC storytelling. Edward getting verbally abused by Izzy Hands daily and Edward choking the man out and taking away his toes and then his fucking leg is on the same level as the storytelling and NOT about one being evil and one being a poor baby. It is simple: they are fucked up guys who hurt one another despite caring for one another. You can find REFLECTIONS of real life in OFMD, but that does not make it real life and should not be treated as such.

To the "But people don't deserve abuse! You're being an abuser apologist by saying Izzy deserved it!" "Izzy hands brought this on himself and deserves all the physical, emotional, and mental pain, and I hope he dies." I bring you: Izzy is an abuser; the consequences of that abuse broke a man who, in turn, broke him with abuse. It is a cycle, an unhealthy relationship on both sides. No one deserved it, but it happened (is happening even), and what matters is how the show decides to address it. And liking and supporting the prevalence of it on screen to dive into this kind of relationship is not fucking evil. It does not make someone good or bad to explore harsh topics, see them on screen, and enjoy and want MORE of them.

They are pirates who have been around captains who force-fed crew mates live crabs that ripped through a stomach, watched people burn alive without a second glance, killed their fathers, and threatened each other with guns and weapons on a daily fuckin' basis. This isn't that far-fetched that this would have happened. It doesn't matter who is redeemable; it's about criminals who are fucked up in falling in love and working through issues. And the mere fucked up but REALISTIC SYMBOLISM AND STORYTELLING of Ed and Izzy's relationship brings so much to not only season 1 but their characters and what this means for them in the past and future. In my opinion, it is masterful to see such characters like this on-screen who DO care for each other but can never love each other like they want. Because that's another thing: they truly love each other, and if you want to get deeper into that part of it, I recommend this post I made.

In summary, this man is the abuser and the abused, and those who refuse to see this are missing the entire part of his character and Ed and Izzy's relationship.

To get to the other point, Izzy is, yes, an abuser and a victim, but at the same time is a fictional being deserving and capable of change, just like every character in the show who is part of the main cast (he is not Big Jack Horner from Puss in Boots, now THAT is an irredeemable character in media done RIGHT).

People look at Izzy Hands being an asshole and make him a flat-ass villain who is homophobic JUST because he treats the queers on The Revenge like shit and is not deserving of getting the arc he is getting because he wasn't the most pleasant guy in the room is the equivalent of people who took one look at all Izzy's done and thinks Izzy has never done anything wrong in his entire life, everything Izzy has done is justified because he's changed in season 2. And just like I said before, this doesn't apply to the fandom inside jokes. No, when I state these things, it's about people who take it SERIOUSLY. Look at Izzy and GENUINELY THINK IN A VERY REAL, VERY "I WILL FIGHT YOU TO THE DEATH" OPINION ABOUT HIM BEING A VILLIAN OR HERO. Which isn't at all right. He is not at all one or the other; he is just a little guy who plays both roles in-story and out-of-story ways.

He is more than capable of changing, and this is shown in season 1 when he apologized for snapping at Blackbeard over his stress of trying to make sure they survive day to day; he knew he was hurting Edward but was, in fact, doing it to ensure Edward's safety despite how misconstrued it was and still is in season 2 (based on his conversation with Stede in the Captain's Quarters). He is not only protected by the trauma crew on the Revenge but protects them IN RETURN from things that happened off-screen, and those who do not think the end of season 1 Izzy and the beginning of season 2 Izzy match up or are not the same character have missed much context from his past appearances before season 2. And that applies to people who ignore either part of his character, the good or bad.

People who are not redeemable do not apologize for their actions. They do not verbalize and tell people they know they're doing things wrong. These are all signs of a character capable of being self-aware if they choose to. We have seen Izzy Hands choose it between seasons. Just because it wasn't on screen with a neon sign pointing to it doesn't mean it isn't happening and DIDN'T happen. Izzy's reaction to Fang asking what happened to his toe in the library scene isn't how we first interpreted it; it matches the beginning of an abusive cycle we see later. It is a nervous laugh, the settling of something, joy, delight, and fear. Because Izzy was PUT in his place from an idea that Izzy placed in Ed's head. But we know Edward has never been this far gone, so when he continued to be punished, it was no longer a sign of his Blackbeard; that delight vanished and turned to horror and regret and him owning up to his actions.

Izzy states he and the rest of the crew are WORRIED about him. He cares, and because he doesn't care healthily and cutely doesn't mean he doesn't care because care isn't always pretty and good; it doesn't have to be righteous and morally right. (This applies to Edward and people hating him for his treatment of the crew and Izzy. Everything I have said applies to him as well, just as much. Despite everything, the crew cares about him, but that doesn't mean everything is good and dandy either; it is COMPLEX.)

Izzy Hands quite LITERALLY has only followed Pirate Protocol this entire time that Edward has followed for years alongside him, and to call him evil and irredeemable is to call Edward the same thing, and to call them both monsters is to miss the entire fuckin point of this show and it's story-telling.

This is not about what is right and wrong in the lens of real life for every little detail; it is about the right and wrong of love, relationships, and societal expectations upon outsiders and people who don't follow what is expected of them. It is about how each person interprets it and has fun with it, and to make it a battleground is so fuckin sad. I am so sorry you think you must do that and make everything censored and pure when we finally get a show that doesn't queerbait, demonize individuals who usually are, is anti-racist/colonist and doesn't shit on neurodivergent folks.

And last but not least, allow Izzy to be interpreted by fandom as fandom wishes. It's about having fun, so have fun with him while RESPECTING his character and your fellow fans! See him as a masochist? Don't equalize his abuse and victim moments as masochism because abuse does not equal masochism in any form. See him as an antagonist? Hell, yeah, give the bad sides of him some love! See him as a protagonist? Awesome, feed into those positive points! But in no fuckin world is there a reason to attack one another over this little fictional man who is literally nothing like his real counterpart. In summary, everyone's opinion is valid, and if you don't like something, don't interact, and not everything that makes you uncomfortable is evil.

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harborarmored · 3 months

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My thoughts on every new Fortnite Battle Pass skin this season since I am hellenic polytheist ~

Ok, so... I've been a hellenic polytheist (a person who believe and worships the greek gods and follow the philosophy) for almost two years, but I've already started worshipping them a long time ago, just got back and strong last year. And, I'm hyperfocused on Fortnite. If you put them together, you'll guess I'm hyped and crazy about this season. So, I thought I would "rate" and give my thoughts on each battle pass skin, both as a devotee of the greek gods and as a Fortnite fan.

Cerberus

6/10. He is Cerberus. I mean, a big black dog that takes care of underworld gates; it's him. He doesn't really have three heads as some people were complaining (ik he does but it doesn't look like it), but would you really be willing to have a 300% higher chance of gettin headshoted? I don't think so. I'll definitely not use his skin, as I don't like animalistic/animal skins (sorry, furries). But I think he is fine.

Aphrodite

When I tell yall I SCREAMED. 10/10, fav skin from this bp.

She is SO pretty. She would totally like this. I saw people saying "oh but she wasn't like this in the arts" ok, so? Who told you Aphrodite is like the arts? The gods AREN'T human, and I can't say that enough! They can, indeed, take humanoid/human forms, but they aren't human nor have a humanlike figure naturally. They are cosmic figures! So, technically, any greek gods representation would be right. They don't have gender either!

A fun fact: I worship Aphrodite mainly, she is my regent goddess and has been protecting me since I was born (or even before that). And I give her a human form in my head when worshipping her (and all other gods), usually based on the art depictions of her (like Birth of Venus), but EVERY devotee will depict her different – she is the god of beauty, and everyone's perception of beauty is different.

And, apart from that, she is resembling Aphrodite. White hair? Not unusual, I can see her with it; tanned skin? Alright! She was born on the beach, after all; clothing? Ohh boy she would ROCK that! The gold and white is very Aphrodite-like, the pinkish/red nails, the belts with little hearts... she is so cool and pretty, AAAAHHHH!!!

(I will not talk about every skin style, but just to give Immortal Aphrodite style its justice: it's pretty, SO PRETTY, and she would like it too.)

Slurp..... Poseidon!

Oh boy he is cute. 7/10. I don't understand the hate he's getting. Just because yall see Poseidon as a bodybuilder older guy from the seas, doesn't mean he is. He isn't human! And this definitely isn't disrespectful, if you are thinking about it – I'm pretty sure Poseidon would have a laugh at this.

On the Fortnite skin side... I hate it. Like, I don't hate it. But I'll definitely not be wearing this ever. Same reason as Cerberus; I don't like animalistic skins (he isn't animalistic... I think. But I think yall can get what I'm saying), and he is BIG boi. I don't like wearing man skins usually, only Shadow Midas – the only Midas I have till now 😭 – and Montague, because they are slim. Many of the manly skins I have are more thick, have muscles. I don't like the playability they have, and don't like them in general (not characters, the looks/functionality/mobility/etc). But he is cute. I can't lie.

Medusa

She is here for the girlbosses! 9/10. Not a goddess, but she has a big role in the mythology and she could be an essential part of the lore, if we look at her story and myths, Epic can really win on that.

I just love her eyes, dark makeup, clothes... It's all soooo her! And I like the snakes too. Saw someone saying that they could be green and it would be better – yeah, I can see the point. But I like the purpleish look on them too, and maybe, just maybe, her special style or the style we win by completing the memory missions is the 'green look'. I mean, if it isn't, Epic has missed a big opportunity! But yeah, I like her. I just didn't like the bottom part of her clothes very much, idk, it gives me a strange odd feeling, maybe because there is TOO many white. Maybe if her pants weren't white, or if her dress (?) was longer so she could wear it alone, without pants, it would be better. At least it's what I think.

Father of mortals, Zeus!

10/10. BEST SKIN along with Aphrodite. Maybe a bit of favoritism, as he is one of my protectors too. But speaking in a "he resembles Zeus so much" way, too! A friend told me about people complaining that he has ammo and grenades on him, are yall SERIOUS? THIS is what yall complaining? If yall are complaining about this you should complain about all bp skins this season, lol. They are in a BATTLE ROYALE. You want them to change all the BR weapons to meele? You wouldn't like it, trust me, I'm a ninja main in Save The World. I really like these additional details on him, bringing the Fortnite into his skin.

And I didn't mention any of the skins' pickaxes or backblings nor other items, but I just gotta talk about the SAVE THE WORLD reference on this. HE HAS A GUITAR????? IS THIS A LARS FROM SAVE THE WORLD WHO HAS ZEUS TATTOOS AND VAN? AND RIDES THE LIGHTNING? METALLICA? ZEUS? OLIMPUS? OH MY GOD I'M GOING CRAZY. And his pickaxe is really cool too

Artemis

8/10. I like her, and the points I don't like aren't "oh she doesn't look like Artemis at all" points (as you could guess based on my other points on other skins). I mean, I'll prob not use her as much as I will use Aphrodite and Medusa. And Zeus (yeah I'll pretty much use his skin despite him being big). She is cute, and pretty. And I like her skin having a little tan, too, even if I think it would be great if she had just a little more tan, as she 'lives' in the woods. But oh boy, aren't her clothes PRETTY??!?!?!? I think they are very bow user if I'm being honest.

I can't lie, I don't like her BLUE eyes. They are REAAAALLYYY BLUE. And lipstick too, I don't think she would really use it, especially pink, if you see her myths and story. But I guess it would look a bit strange if her lips didn't have color.

Another point in her that I absolutely DISLIKE is this F*CKING GALAXY THING. THIS RUIN ANY SKIN! This is a really personal opinion, but I SAID WHAT I SAID. I think they are so ugly and 2014 gamer girl vibes (like I was). And in Artemis? I don't think it fits that much. She is much more related to Moon AND FOREST! They could have done this galaxy nasty thing as a superstyle on the extra rewards since almost all superstyles are ugly anyway. Maybe an all black and silver clothing with a silver moon in her top would be better yk. And her hair, WITH THIS EFFIN GALAXY OH MY GOD I HATE THIS F GAME. And I think it's SO spiky too, for some reason, the "top" of her hair looks so artificial and not curly at all, unlike her back hair. And I think it could suit her better if she had her hair in a bun, as, you know, SHE IS A HUNTER!! But galaxies are my biggest complaint.

Finally... Hades.

Isn't my boy, Hades? He's cool. 7/10 I think. I mean, I wouldn't really think of him and think of neon green (maybe a deep purple), but it fits him AND Cerberus. Cerberus looks so cool with the neon green, and Hades, being his "dad" (lol), has to match, speaking in a skin-wise way.

I can see the gas mask, too. I mean, he lives in the underworld afterall, it prob doesn't smell very good in there. And there is miasma too (I'll not elaborate on this, but for me, it makes sense the gas mask). I just think his hand fingers would look better if they were black and shadowish, like with some smoke/shadow in them. I'll prob never use his skin. But it's cool and it resembles a boss, specifically a underworld boss.

Final toughts

As you can see, I'm still really hyped, and I like this season very much already. I haven't played any matches yet. I was waiting yesterday – in my country, the updates are usually released at 11AM, so I wake up and download to play after the download. But as you can imagine, it didn't work like that yesterday. I had college (yeah, Fortnite players are at university too), and I just skipped classes so I could play all day the new season. I JUST GOT TO OPEN FORTNITE TODAY. Yestarday, it was 11:50PM in my area when they OPENED the servers (may I remember you I am used to the servers opening 11AM), and I tried launching the game. First I got a key chain error after just 5 minutes of queue, had to reopen the game; 20 minutes of queue, and when it finished, SERVER ERROR; reopened for the last time and it was a 50 MINUTE QUEUE WAITING TIME. I gave up and went to bed, was already feeling bad because of other things. Today I woke up at 10AM, prob because of anxiety, hyperfocus is a messed up things sometimes. And it's when I opened the game for the first time, FINALLY!

Yesterday, I had just woken up, ready to update Fortnite, and one of my friends sent me the MIDAS skin that is set to release sometime in this season. Oh gosh, when I tell you that I WOKE UP with his message, I REALLY woke up. I LOVE MIDAS!!! He's been my obsession since mid last year, and because of him I started really hyperfocusing in Fortnite. I was already hyperfocused, but not really caring that much about the lore or characters. And in these past months, all I've been wanting is his Midsummer skin to come back to the item shop (and summer in my country is almost getting over, it's a bit depressing that Epic doesn't change seasonal items according to match the countries/emispheres. I'll only be able to get his SUMMER skin at WINTER, as USA summer is in the middle of the year, when it's already winter here). Now I have a reason to be even more hyped for this season – he can be released at any moment! Oh my man, I've been waiting patiently for you. And I'm happy.

Well, I already talked much. It's not my fault, it's autism. Yeah. If yall have any questions about this season, regarding especially the greek mythology (hellenic religion/philosophy), you can contact me, leave an ask, a comment, whatever. I'll be SO happy to answer!

some offering I made to Lady Aphrodite last year :)

#fortnite #fortnite c5s2 #fortnite chapter 5 #fortnite battle royale #greek mythology #greek gods

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