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ashcoveredtraveler · 4 months

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The Great Knights Backstory

So I said in my headcannon dump post that The Great Knights weren't exactly recruited the most Orthodox way. So below is a bit of their backstory and how they got recruited. (While Xero is included in this post, he is more of a Great Knight in training than anything).

Isma(Poison Hemlock or a Thorned plant )-

Isma was born in the Greenpath. Mosskins are usually in a communal family unit, so she grew up with multiple moms, dads and siblings. Sadly, this close environment isn't the best for sickness and a blight ravaged their family unit, killing more than half of them.

The blight and the inability to get adequate medical attention drove Isma to study as a doctor. She learned how to create medications and heal others. Since she was able to work with plants and get more familiar with them, she was able to manipulate plants her own way. First she was able to grow sturdier houses for the mosskin. She then continued to develop her skills and incorporated into her fighting style.

Unn hosts a few festivals throughout the year based on the beginning of the end of every season. There is a competition where you make plant art or sculpture. Isma submitted her project and that caught the attention of Monomon who was at the festival. She saw the potential of them and knew they were crafted by someone who was clever and knew how to fight, along with someone with a kind heart as everyone who talked about Isma at the festival spoke of her deeds. Monomon told the king about a talented mosskin and the king scouted Isma out and asked to see her skills. He was impressed and she was offered as a Great Knight in training.

Ogrim(Dung beetle)-

Ogrim was born and raised in Dirtmouth. His family was a working class family. They have a business of moving crates in and out of the Crossroads and stations in the City, which Ogrim took apart of.

Being a dung beetle has both its ups and downs. Most don't like the stench of them and there are many stereotypes that are associated with being a Dung Beetle. However dung beetles are one of the strongest bugs, so often his family would get many recruitment letters to join the guards.

One day when moving crates in the City Storeroom Stag, an earthquake hit Hallownest. Earthquakes happen often and are easily felt as Hallownest is underground, so there are precautionary measures to cause as little damage as possible. However, the infrastructure wasn't kept up to date in the city causing things to fall apart.

Ogrim was trapped in the Storeroom Stag with many other bugs. Many were injured and wouldn't have made it if it wasn't for Ogrim. He rallied whoever was able to move and led them to escape the rubble. He moved rubble for everyone to escape and there were only 2 casualties altogether in the Stag as those 2 died on impact. The King heard about the courageous bug and found he would be a good candidate to be a Great Knight.

Hegemol(Peacock Tarantula)-

Hegemol was originally from lands outside of the Wastes before his mother moved to Deepnest when he barely hatched. In Deepnest he would help out his family by selling produce in the Crossroads or City. There he learned how to be social and communicate with other bugs calmly. Usually, bugs wouldn't want to converse with anything from Deepnest unless it was to get weaver-silk out of them, but Hegemol was so personable that many bought his produce and talked to him.

This caught Lurien's eye as bugs from Deepnest don't typically get along with city bugs, and most bugs don't get along with other bugs this well. Considering that bugs from Deepnest are strong and that the personality of this tarantula doesn't seem to clash with anyone, he kept an eye on him as he was so intrigued. One day after packing up his stall, a fire broke out nearby and all of the bugs were panicking. Fires don't happen often as most of the city was lit up by Lumafly lanterns, so none of the guards really knew what to do.

Hegemol could hear the cries of bugs in the buildings and took action and ran into the building. There he was able to save everyone in the building. He was holding one last bug and noticed the building was collapsing. He rushed towards the entrance of the building and realized he wouldn't make it on time and threw the bug out of the building while it collapsed on him.

He woke up in the hospital with only four of his limbs instead of eight limbs. Once notified, Lurien visited Hegemol to see how he was doing and gave his thanks to him. Lurien heard that he was supposed to make a partial recovery as he couldn't grow back his limbs, so he invited them to do a few training sessions with the Watcher Knights. During these training sessions, Lurien invited the King over to see Hegemol. He was impressed and Hegemol was invited to join The Great Knights.

Ze'mer(If she was a root then she would be a white spider lily and if she was a bug then it would be a silverfish. She may be a mix of the two. )-

Ze'mer came from a very mysterious land. She left for adventure and purpose as her homeland didn't offer it. The one item she takes with her to remind her of her homeland is the seedling of the delicate flowers. She got her Great Nail, picked one direction, and walked forward. She eventually came across Hallownest. She quickly applied at The Archive to study common Hallownest and lived in Greenpath. There she learned Mossish along with the mosskins fighting style, adding to her experience already. Ze'mer wanted to learn more from this land and decided to learn the Mantis language and Weaver Tongue.

This doesn't just catch the King's attention, this catches everyone's attention.

Somehow there was a bug or root thing or whatever, who knows 4 of the 6 languages that are spoken in Hallownest(Common Hallownest, Weaver Tounge, Mantis language, Mossish, Lightling, Hiveling), is wielding a massive weapon that she is really good with, and is litterally everywhere. It is uncommon to know both Weaver tounge and Mantis language as both parties are usually at war with one another and the midator is Hallownest, so there was no need to know both. Considing how corgal and willingness to adapt to everyones culture, she is able to be a mediator

Everyone wanted her on their side. However the King was able to get access to Ze'mer and offered her a posision as a Great Knight.

Dryya(beetle of some sort, I haven't decided yet)-

Dryya was the weakest and more malformed than all of the rest of her eggmates. She was very thin for a child, had no signs of pigment coming in her soft chitin, and was very sickly. Instead of wasting resources on her, they just left her in the middle of Kingdoms Edge. Sadly and luckily for her, some colosseum fools found her. If she wasn't found then she would have died, but now her life will be harder.

Once she was physically able to, she cleaned off the armor of the fools that had been taken off dead fools. Once she was strong enough she had to take the armor off herself. She became desensitized to violence and blood.

Like the scumbag he is, The Lord Fool purchased some more children to do the menial work. While Dryya has seen her share of violence and mistreatment, something irked her with how the children were treated. Maybe it was the mistreatment she got her whole life, but she wanted something better for the kids.

So she decided to play by the Colosseum's rules and fight for the freedom of all of the kids. The Lord Fool 'agrees' to this and sends everything her way. There was no way in hell he would want to lose all of his servants, so he thought that Dryya would die to the fools, but she did not.

During the fight, there were some undercovered guards there as the Colosseum is always under issues of questionable work ethics. But now there is a bug fighting for the freedom of children practically held as slaves at the Colosseum, so backup is immediately called.

The fight continued on and Dryya was still going on. The Fool Lord was getting more and more nervous with every fallen fool. Dryya killed the last of the fools in the arena when a spear went through her shoulder. She kneeled over, closing her eyes thinking that she failed her task.

That was not the case and guards raided the Colosseum, saving Dryya and the kids that were there. Once the King and Queen heard about what happened, the Queen wanted to meet the brave bug that stood up to The Fool Lord.

The Queen immediately took a liking to Dryya. Since Dryya wasn't raised the idolize the King and Queen, she was blunt with the Queen. While the Queen likes her 'yes men', she likes honestly too. The Queen visited while Dryya recovered in the hospital and both bugs got close. The King wanted to see how Dryya fought and once she got better, he tested her. She fought well and she was offered to be a personal guard to the queen, as Dryya was technically the first of the Great Knights and they didn't exist yet.

Xero(Moth)-

Xero had an alright upbringing considering what is to come. His mother died while laying the clutch he was in, and he was the only one who survived in the clutch. His father wasn't around much as he needed to work for the both of them, so he was left with The Seer in training along with her son. At some point the infection started up and killed nearly half of the moth tribe including Xero's father, leaving him to raise himself.

Moths were being discriminated against at the time cause of the infection, so Xero picked up a weapon and started being a mercenary. After a few years, he was lynched and burned by one of his clients, leaving him pretty much hairless and torn wings. However after he was healed, he continued on with his mercenary work. Just as mentioned in my Ghost Backstory post, Xero ended up getting hired by a Snail shaman to escort him to some parts of the city as he was almost kidnapped.

After hearing the snail story he was intrigued and looked more into the situation and found out that there had been multiple kidnappings and disappearances and the city guards weren't doing jackshit about them so he took matters into his own hands and hijacked one of their kidnappings operations and handed evidence to the higher authorities (Watcher Knights, Lurien and The Great Knight that was in the city at the time). They were all so impressed with his performance that they offered to train him as a Great Knight.

#hollow knight #hollow knight fanart #split family au #hk headcanons #hollow knight au #hk ogrim #hk isma #hk hegemol #hk ze'mer #hk dryya #hk xero

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rogue--nation · 4 months

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It's a third day of their work in Valparaiso, Chile. A beautiful city, to be honest. Simon rarely has time to take rest, but this mission Price has assigned him to was very generous for moments of calmness, even though they keep getting interrupted by something unexpectedly violent. Still, Ghost just didn't feel right about it all. Yes, he's always an outsider, but here... Here he is an outsider among the locals. He doesn't speak Spanish very well, so he barely understands what people around him speak of. Thanks to his companion that he was paired up with, he doesn't really need to do any talking whatsoever. When he just entered the briefing room back in El Paso, he noticed her instantly, because the cautious stare of her brown eyes was simply unbearable. She smiles, she says the sweetest things, pulling on a fake persona for communicating with people around. Well, Simon might be wearing a mask, but at least he has only one and it is visible. She, however, is like an actor on a stage, putting one mask after the other, trying to hide her painfully hollow exterior. He didn't trust her much at the beginning, just how people around him, mostly mexican operatives, didn't trust him, growing very suspicious of a newbie among them. But Ana kept acting in a very welcoming, even comforting way. Back then, when she was asking him questions, he had no idea they will be the only survivors in the team and that he will eventually save her life. Failed operation in Sonora turned out to be compromised by someone from CIA. They were voluntarily walking into the massacre.

Now he is standing by the window, watching the view of the coast being swallowed by falling darkness of the night. It's 2nd of November, last day of Los Muertos. So him and his mask fit these streets just fine. He is waiting for Ana. Or, how he used to call her... sergeant Reyes. But after all the things they've went through in span of a week... He couldn't keep such a formal distance. They've become friends. One of a kind, really. They turned out to have a lot in common, just their adapting mechanisms were built differently. Still, it didn't affect their ability to understand each other. Dark past, grey present... Lack of adequate social skills and interests outside their work... They're a trainwreck at it's best. But Reyes is way better at hiding it than him. Only once he saw her mask slip off and it was when she was heavily bleeding from a gunshot wound he had to patch and stitch up. That's when he saw that her scars were not very different from his own. Both physical and mental. Almost fainting, she kept asking him to say something comforting... But he couldn't come up with anything better that talking about purpose in life and how some people fail to find it. Unlike them. He said that they're lucky to have their own path... Oh, he wanted to believe that. But looking back, this lifestyle only brought him pain and disappointment, wounding him beyond any chance of repair.

Now, he waited for her to return from her meeting with leader of DBA team that worked in the city at the moment, collecting information on CJNG. They knew El Mencho was here and sooner or later he was going to put his plans to work.

Simon hears a far away blast and it makes him feel strange. He hears people's voices, almost like they're screaming. Was it an explosion? Or is it once again a part of some stupid parade they had just yesterday, filling the air with loud music and fireworks? Riley grips onto the windowsill, trying to see the smoke somewhere around. And he sees one rising above the houses far away. He gets nervous. Maybe, he should go out and check what's going on, but Reyes told him to stay inside and wait for her. Picking up mobile phone, he hopes that Ana will answer the call, but it's turned off. He decides to wait for while, like twenty minutes or so, but it feels like ages.

A knock on the door. Simon storms to open it and sees Ana at the doorstep. She's injured, her scratched temple is bleeding, her elbows and bare thighs covered in dust and and small shards of glass. Her clothes covered in blood still fresh. Reyes looks exhausted.

"Fucking hell", he let's out quietly, "What happened?"

"Meeting didn't go as planned. Bowen's already on it. I've met him", she looks at herself as she passes the mirror, "Fuck", she even looks impressed.

"Are you hurt?", he looks at her, shocked.

"It's not my blood. Mostly", Ana replies casually. Well, such things definitely are casual events for her, "Now we wait for instructions from Matt", she looks a little zoned out, as she leans onto the table. Riley keeps himself calm and doesn't try to help her. Physical contact is something he's never been very fond of. Especially without permission. Even Ana made it clear that she doesn't need help. But for some reason he wants to take care of her somehow. He tries to reach her with his hand, but she leans away, not even noticing that. Ana doesn't say a word and leaves to bathroom. Simon hears the water running. He tries to hold back, but he follows her, feeling uneasy. When he enters, he sees Ana sitting in the bathtub naked. She doesn't pay attention to him. Her knees are pressed against her chest, shivers running down her spine. The mask is off. Her eyes seem hollow, almost lifeless. Unbearable sadness is hiding within her. Water is slowly filling up the bath, turning pink as it mixes up with blood. Simon silently sits on the floor close to his partner. She doesn't look at him once. Almost like she's not even here. Or like she never was. Thin trail of blood is leaving her ears. Side of her face is caked with dried blood, sticking to her hair. Riley grabs washcloth and soaks it in water, then, he gently presses it against Ana's skin, washing away the blood. She shivers for a moment, closing her eyes. Reyes is not used to touch, especially a touch that gentle. Violence wasn't any new to her. But tenderness .. tenderness is something she has long forgotten. Ana doesn't speak, simply letting Simon do what he does.

"You keep getting yourself hurt", he says.

Ana slowly nods as if in confirmation. She purses her lips. Over the years, pain and adrenaline were the only things that made her feel alive.

"I'm so tired", her voice breaks unexpectedly. Suddenly, she sounds like a little frightened girl. Not a sergeant. She covers her face with her palms, her shoulders shrink.

Simon already saw her in similar state when he lost her in the crowd during the parade. For some reason a sight of people in masks gave her a panic attack. She was almost hysterical, when he found her surrounded by drunk confused tourists that thought Ana needed help. He was confused as well, but never asked what happened. She gripped onto his arm so tightly that night like she was about to die.

#draft #rough draft #ana reyes #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #fanfiction #call of duty #sicario

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egcdeath · 3 years

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in plain sight

summary: steve makes your mission to pose as a married couple in the suburbs much easier than you expected.

pairing: steve rogers x reader

word count: 3.6k

warnings: fake dating, soooo much fluff, bed sharing, lots of dialogue, domesticity

author’s note: remember that throw away line from act natural about going undercover as a married couple? well... thats how this fic was born. you definitely don’t have to read act natural though.

this is also part of my own sitcom challenge! i used the prompt someone has to pretend to be someone/something they’re not, and “I spewed out so much bullshit, I'm gonna need a mint.”

you can find my masterlist and taglist here

Your leg bounced in anticipation as you sat in the passenger seat of an oversized U-Haul next to Steve, only the sound of radio filling your ears.

Occasionally, you glanced over to observe the man. You checked out his new, thick beard, the hair on top of his head that was box dyed much darker, and his light eyes that were focused on the road. You couldn’t help but feel… weird when he hummed quietly along to the music from the truck’s radio, feeling oddly intimate for two people who barely knew each other, despite being on the same team as each other.

After hours in the car, Steve pulled up to a rather large house on the edge of a small Midwestern town. The porch was large and still furnished, and the driveway was long enough for Steve to pull in with no problem. You looked up at the colonial styled home, and took a deep breath.

“You ready to do this, Joseph?”

Steve nodded, “ready as I can be.”

——

You’d settled in much easier than you’d expected, spending the first few hours at your new place unloading the few boxes that were in the moving truck and unpacking them. This turned out to be a rather easy task when you had a super soldier doing the majority of the heavy lifting, both literally and figuratively.

You tried to keep things as not-awkward as they could be, spending the majority of your move in time with headphones on top of your head that were large enough to deter any person with adequate social skills from you.

You felt a bit guilty as you hung clothes up in the closet of the master bedroom, Steve opting to stay in a guest suite. It really wasn’t fair of you to be avoiding Steve like this, especially when he didn’t particularly ask to go on this mission.

To make it worse, this was your first mission as an official Avenger, after the fall of a corrupt SHIELD. You were just slightly disappointed, as becoming the neighbor of an arms dealer in order to take him out didn’t exactly seem like the same level of excitement as your past field work.

Finishing up the last of the clothing, you flopped onto the mattress in the connected bedroom, only having the chance to enjoy your position for a moment before the chime of a doorbell rang throughout the house, alerting you of someone’s presence.

You sat up and rose from your place on the bed, exiting the bedroom and making your way through the hallway, peeking down the stairs at the front door while Steve answered it.

“Hi there,” a middle aged woman exclaimed, observing Steve’s figure and offering him a smile. “You just moved in, right?”

You recognized that pale, round face, even from afar. She was your target’s wife, and apparently, your new next door neighbor. You took a deep breath before going down the stairs in the coolest manner you could muster, trying to hold your excitement in. You didn’t even have to approach them first! Maybe this mission was going to be easier than you’d expected.

You appeared right next to Steve as he’d finished introducing himself, notifying him of your presence with an oddly natural kiss on the cheek. You were really trying to sell this.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted. It didn’t even sound weird coming from him. “This is Cathy, our new neighbor. Cathy, this is my wife, Ella,” Steve wrapped an arm around your waist, and pulled you closer to him.

“So good to meet you, Cathy,” you grinned.

“Great to meet you, Ella! I was just stopping by to welcome you both to the neighborhood.”

“You’re so kind! We really appreciate it,” you hummed.

“Any dinner plans tonight?” Cathy asked, glancing between you and your partner.

You looked towards Steve, who looked back at you with a shrug. You almost felt like you were communicating telepathically, agreeing that any in with your target was a good in.

“We were probably just going to stay in,” Steve offered.

“Well, that’s no fun! Why don’t you two come by our place tonight? I’m sure Zack would love to meet his new neighbors.”

You beamed in a manner that would put Cheshire Cat to shame. Maybe Cathy would just think you were happy to be welcomed so warmly, “that actually sounds perfect,” you gushed.

“Yeah? Does 6:30 work for you?”

Steve gave you that telepathic look again. Despite his poker face, you could tell he was just as excited about this as you were, “that’s perfectly fine with us,” he nodded.

“See you then?” you added.

——

You’d just finished putting on your shoes when Steve showed up beside you, dressed in some of the most casual attire you’d ever seen the man in. While the whole Captain America tactical getup tended to suit him well, it was nothing compared to the sight of him in jeans and a button-up shirt. Okay, maybe you shouldn’t be thirsting so hard over someone you were about to play house with. Maybe you’re just method acting?

“That dress looks really great on you,” Steve complimented out of the blue. If you weren’t mistaken, you felt a tiny tug in your stomach.

“Aw, thank you, Steve. You don’t look too bad yourself,” you gave him a little wink, and pushed open your front door. After stepping outside, you let out a big breath that you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in. Steve trailed about a foot behind you for good measure, hands in his pockets while you both made the short trek to your new neighbors’ home.

Moments after Steve rang their doorbell, he slipped a hand from his pocket out, and to your side, offering it to you. You instinctively returned the gesture, putting your palm next to his and lacing your fingers.

Just as you did so, the door swung open, and a man whose face you’d only seen in files was welcoming you. This must’ve been Zack.

He corralled you into the house where you swore you took your shoes off, and were sitting in their dining room with food on your plates after 30 seconds, tops.

The couple immediately began berating you with questions, how you met, where you were from, why you decided to move in. If you didn’t know better, you’d suspect that they were suspicious of your existence. In reality, they just seemed to want to know more about their neighbors, specifically Steve, who was set to start working for Zack in just a few days.

About an hour into a dinner filled with white lies and improvisations of your past, you could tell that things were beginning to wind down. You leaned back comfortably in your chair as Zack and Steve spoke about football.

“Cath, where’s your bathroom?” you asked casually.

“Our downstairs bathroom is currently… out of order. But if you go upstairs and directly down the hall, you should find it on your right,” she responded.

This must’ve been your lucky day, or something. You had the perfect excuse to go upstairs and rummage through their shit! And of course, after you excused yourself from the table, you did.

You rummaged through dressers, trying to find anything slightly incriminating, but your search came to no avail. You lifted up a corner of their mattress and glanced under it, but still, nothing.

You looked up from where you were standing and glanced out through one of their oddly large windows. Your eyes widened and brows furrowed when you saw what you saw, a very clear view of your own window. The lamp sitting dormant on your nightstand. The soft blues of your duvet. This was going to be a problem.

As you head back down to the lower level, you caught a bit of the conversation and frowned.

“I swear, you just look so familiar!” Zack laughed. You could almost imagine the awkward and forced smile that was likely sitting on Steve’s face.

“I get that all the time, really!” Steve chuckled back uncomfortably. You hurried down the rest of the stairs, figuring that as silly as this interaction was, it was probably in your best interest to help out your fake husband.

You made your way back into the dining room, going straight to the back of Steve’s seat, and giving his shoulder a little squeeze.

You leaned down and whispered a quiet, “we should go,” into his ear, and weren’t surprised when he echoed you in a louder voice directed at your hosts.

“We really appreciated dinner, but this one’s getting sleepy,” he jeered.

“Pasta always makes me tired,” you forced a yawn, playing along.

“We should get going,” Steve hummed, standing up

“Thanks again for having us,” you grinned, slipping your shoes on by the door.

“We should definitely do this again soon. Next time at our place?” Steve offered, holding the door open for you.

You sidestepped him as you walked out onto their porch, heading down their stairs two at a time.

“I was snooping in their bedroom and uh, you can definitely see the master bedroom from their window,” you sighed.

“Well, we have blinds all over the house. That shouldn’t be an issue.”

“We still have silhouettes, pal. Look, I know this sounds crazy, but you can’t stay in the guest bedroom.”

“You mean…” Steve trailed off.

“Yeah. It doesn’t have to mean anything, though. Maybe I can get us two twin beds, or something.”

“It’s fine, I mean, we’re adults. I’m sure we can control ourselves for a few months, or however long this takes us.”

——

You were nearly three months into your mission, and getting way too invested in this lie. In fact, you were digging yourself a bit deeper every day. It was hard not to, when you were climbing into bed every night with an astoundingly attractive super soldier, and essentially playing house with him.

In the mornings you’d make him coffee and toast before he went off to do whatever strange job it was that he was doing, in the evenings you’d watch movies together while he massaged your feet.

Steve seemed to be keeping up on his end, calling out a “Honey I’m home!” with every arrival that began to seem less and less ironic with each entrance. He did dishes with you, folded your laundry, and he may or may not have begged you to teach him how to dance, leading to far too many instances where he stepped on your foot, and apologized so profusely that the sound of the record player was completely drowned out.

You sat in your backyard while pondering this, deep in thought as you tended to your budding snap peas.

“Ella,” you heard from somewhere behind you, leading you to turn your head.

Leaning on your side of the fence, Cathy gave you a big toothy grin. “How are you, dear?”

“I’m doing great! And you?” you questioned, standing up and wiping off some of the dirt that had landed on your lap.

“I’m doing good myself. How’s the hubby?”

You wandered over to her, and she brought her hand up to her brows to shield her face from the sun. “We’re doing well. We just love the neighborhood. Everyone is so sweet and hospitable here!” you gushed.

“Aww,” she cooed, “that’s great to hear. Any chance you’re thinking about stopping by our book club sometime? I mean, we’re about to start a new novel. Some romance murder mystery.”

You shrugged at this invite, mulling it over, “I mean, I don’t have anything else to do.”

“Do you work?” she questioned.

“Mm, not really. At least since we moved. I used to work full time, but that wasn’t really for me. Joe makes enough with this new position, so now I kinda just day drink until he gets back and play around in the garden.”

Cathy giggled at this and shook her head fondly, “I remember when I was young like you. A little bored, but happy and in love. Sometimes, you remind me a little of Zack and I. I see how he looks at you, dear. You’re a very cute couple, it’s honestly hard not to root for you. But I guess that’s besides the point right now. Anyway, I’m sure you’ll find something to do soon.”

You could feel the heat creeping up your neck at this comment and looked down, embarrassed from the mention of your very false relationship, you latched onto the one unrelated comment. “That’s very sweet of you. Y’know, J and I are actually thinking about hosting some sort of neighborhood get together before summer ends, as a way to celebrate.”

The lie slipped out of your mouth before you even had a chance to really think it over. Damn Natasha and her lying seminars.

“Really?” No. “I’ll make sure to tell all the ladies at the club about it!” Please don’t.

“That would be lovely! I appreciate it.”

“Of course!” she hummed, “as long as you attend our next meeting.”

You chuckled, “deal.”

——

“Honey, I’m home!” Steve called out as he entered from the garage.

“In the living room!” you responded, popping up from the sofa onto your feet.

Steve walked in and plopped right down onto the couch with a yawn, his now dirty white shirt straining against his chest as he did so.

“Long day?” you questioned, finding yourself situated on the furniture next to him.

“Mhm,” he hummed, rubbing his forehead with his palm.

“Well, I have some news,” you crossed your legs, “I may or may not have promised Cath to throw a little party on Saturday…”

“Saturday?” Steve repeated, surprise laced in his voice.

“Sorry…” you offered.

“It’s fine, that’s just… We’ll have to crunch.”

“I’m sorry, Steve. If I order you a pizza will you accept my apology?” you gave him a knowing look and he returned it.

You hopped up from the sofa and shook your head, “you’re an easy bargain.”

“Hey!”

——

“Is it so wrong of me to believe that you’ve been secretly waiting for this moment for all your life?” you asked as Steve tossed a few packages of hot dogs into your cart.

“What makes you say that?”

“You’re just way too enthused,” you giggled as Steve resumed pushing the cart down the aisle of open fridges. “Have you forgotten we’re on a mission, Captain?”

He glanced back at you as you trailed behind him and shook his head, “can I not enjoy myself while we’re on a mission? What do people say, enjoy what you do and you never work a day in your life?”

“Something like that,” you nodded, picking up the pace so you could catch up with him.

“And don’t start throwing stones while you’re staying in that glass house. I’ve seen you smile more in this last month than I’d ever seen you smile before.”

“Well, this has been a fun mission. And you’re a great partner,” you hummed, grabbing a package of cheese slices from another refrigerator.

Steve didn’t respond, but the infectious beam on his face said more than enough.

——

Okay, what were the odds that you’d died and gone to heaven?

You sat on the porch ‘reading’ a book while Steve pushed the lawn mower across your yard in preparation for your party. To be honest, you were doing much more gawking than reading as he did so, but who could blame you?

Steve seemed so focused on the ground, trying to keep your lawn as neat as possible before your guests arrived. Occasionally, he’d look up at you on the porch at the same moment that you were studying him, and the second your eyes met, matching heat would creep up both of your necks.

While the shy glances made you feel a bit like a naive schoolgirl, you couldn’t help but wish for more; that the sweet simplicity of your domestic life with Steve wouldn’t have to end once your mission ended.

——

Rows of cars lined your curb, and a mixture of loud music and chatter filled your backyard. You sipped on cheap margarita mix as you watched Steve flip burgers by the grill, aviators perched on top of his nose. He looked like a classic suburban dad, and you were certainly not the only person eating it up.

“Thank you for hosting, El,” Sydney, no, Daphne? commented, bumping her hip into yours and pulling you out of your minor Steve induced trance. “You should totally make an announcement.”

“Do people really do that? I thought that was like, movie stuff.”

She shrugged dismissively, “most of your guests are here, maybe just thank them for coming or something.”

You walked up to Steve’s side, where he was still dutifully attending the grill, and serving your guests.

“What’s up?” he questioned cooly, setting down the spatula in his hands and lifting his sunglasses to look at you better.

“We’re supposed to make an announcement and thank the guests, or something.”

“Would you like to do it?”

You shook your head, “you can’t pull out one of those great team captain speeches?”

Steve pressed his lips together tightly, “fine. But you should really be getting out of your comfort zone.”

“Oh shut it,” you giggled, “you just can’t help yourself. That’s why your ‘thank you’ announcement would be eons better than mine.”

He playfully tutted, and gave you just a hint of a smirk, “alright, fine. Have you eaten yet?”

“Mm, not yet, Dad.”

“Ew, don’t call me that. It’s kinda weird.” “Why’s that?”

“I mean, we’re supposed to be a married couple. I don’t want to think of you as my daughter,” he faked a shiver and you playfully rolled your eyes, biting your lip to hold back a comical grin.

Watching the scene in front of you, you smiled. For what must’ve been the thousandth time, a dangerous, yet tempting thought crossed your mind.

You could get used to this.

——

Hours of kids scrambling in your yard, parents drinking much more than they should’ve, and tedious small talk left you and Steve cleaning up your yard in the dead of night.

“God, I spewed out so much bullshit, I’m gonna need a mint,” you laughed, words somewhat slurring together from the amount of booze you drank.

“At this point, we’re gonna need a notebook filled with all the lies we’ve told in order to keep up with them,” Steve agreed with a chuckle.

“This mission’s gonna be over much sooner than it should be if we don’t get our story straight,” you added, collecting half empty beer cans from your lawn.

“Shit, how could I forget to tell you? Fury called last night,” Steve said, bringing the recycling bin over to you. “Well don’t keep me waiting, what’d he say?”

“We have all the intel we need on Zack, so…”

“So this is ending soon?” you frowned as you stood across from Steve, looking him deep in the eyes.

“We need to be out by Wednesday.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Your mood had clearly been dampened by this announcement, and despite the alcohol in your system giving you the desire to be chatty, you felt like you couldn’t speak at all.

——

The soft hum of the bubble setting seemed to be taking up all the talking space between you and Steve as you relaxed into the hot tub. Your mission had officially come to an end, and after three months of pretending to be a couple, you couldn’t help but feel a little attached to the house, your neighbors, and of course, your fake husband.

You took occasional sips from a lightly flavored seltzer, watching the sunset intently while you tried your best not to think of what life would be like following your mission. How your bed would be empty and cold once again, how you wouldn’t have anyone to leave cheesy post-it notes out for, and how you wouldn’t be able to maintain the type of relationship you had with Steve any longer.

“What’s up?” Steve asked, breaking the silence between you.

“Hmm?” you responded, feigning ignorance.

“You just look very… focused. What’s on your mind?”

You blinked up at the sky, “wanna know the truth?”

“Always. I mean, I’m your husband after all,” he chuckled, turning his knees towards you and practically demanding your attention with just his body language.

“I’m gonna miss this place. We’ve made some really good memories here.”

He nodded slowly, the hint of a frown tugging on his lips. “We have. I mean, I can think of about a hundred funny stories that the team’ll love.”

“I’m sure,” you laughed softly, your heart not completely into it.

“I’m gonna miss it here too, you know,” he added after a beat. “Every moment I spent with you was a great one.”

You internally swooned, scooting a little closer to Steve and setting your head on his shoulder, “I could say the same for you.”

Out of reflex, Steve gently pressed a kiss to your forehead before looking out at the hues of pinks and purples in the sunset ahead of you.

“I think I’m gonna miss these sunsets the most though,” you added, trying not to appear too sappy.

As you watched the sun fall, part of you hoped that Steve knew that the sunsets weren’t really the thing you’d miss most.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers imagine #chris evans x reader #steve rogers x y/n #avengers fanfiction #avengers fanfic #chris evans x you #steve rogers fanfic

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chocoladieimagines · 3 years

Note

Hey can I request akatsuki fluffy HC with a black reader

Thanks 😊

Sure thing! It took me a bit of a while to think of an idea but I got you! I also hope it’s fine that I am comfortable only doing a few of the members in the Akatsuki🤎🍫Enjoy!

Akatsuki x Black! Reader

For one of their missions, two people are sent to a village called Nikkōgakure, meaning Village Hidden by/among Sunlight. They see a possibility of finding the person they’re looking for by infiltrating a local rally, but only experience the feeling of nostalgia after seeing a childhood friend. Y/N L/N is a civil rights activist who has become very well known throughout villages and is sought out by citizens for social change.

Kisame Hoshigaki

- The Akatsuki had to operate in teams that would be most efficient in earning money but also not draw attention to themselves. With two shinobi, it’s the bare minimum to have an actionable team that can accomplish goals.

- Two individuals highly skilled such as Kisame Hoshigaki and Itachi Uchiha are sent to the village, acquiring information about the shinobi forces so the Akatsuki could provide more mercenary services.

- Aside from tracing Jinchuriki, a back up plan was to make countries increasingly dependent on Akatsuki’s services, corner the entire market for shinobi missions and eventually put all of the shinobi villages out of business.

- Kisame didn’t expect the village to have such an ethereal beauty; everything in honeyed tones like there was a layer of tinted filtering added to the sky. As the sunlight sauntered in, it ignited shadows to vivid oranges and reds, giving vivacious hues to the village like it was another world of art.

- The broad days of sunlight allowed tenacious vegetation; flowers seen in every turn he made.

- The truth was that the people could never see flowers too many times; they brought flowers into hospitals and graveyards, used them as a vibrant way to express their love and would plant them in their backyards though they couldn’t bear any edible fruits. The village spent thousands replacing them along the streets and as soon as they would brown, more are brought in.

- “Maybe this place wouldn’t be so bad.” Kisame said to himself but it was more likely loud enough to be heard just between the proximity of him and Itachi.

- “Yes, there’s something about it that makes it look so peaceful. Like it’s ducked off from the world’s ugliness and imperfection.” Itachi spoke. “Therefore, we will not spark any attention on ourselves. We will only pursue what is absolutely necessary.”

- Kisame followed in Itachi’s words as they watched villagers gather inside of a place, soon walking behind them.

- They both sat in the corner of the room at a small table, everyone’s conversation dying down after the lights dim.

- Kisame heard the sound of heels becoming discernible as they progressed closer to the stage. Once they stopped, the spotlight shined on a beautiful woman.

- He felt himself be captivated by your features; dark satiny brown skin, these dark expressive eyes—pools of honey each time the sunshine hits them, as you wore your hair naturally in its born state.

- You greeted everyone with a warm smile and it seemed a lot of your audience has seen you before—Kisame knew he definitely has.

- He remembered you back in Kirigakure, Village Hidden by Mist or The Hidden Village of The Land of Water. He often saw you tagging along the crewman that traded goods with his village. Having many adventures as a shinobi prior to joining the organization, some of his missions consisted of being involved with the lakes featured along the many islands composing his village.

- The two of you have crossed each other up until the point you kindly greeted him and couldn’t help but feel intrigued by his unique features. He didn’t take offense from it, taking in mind how your voice sounded out of admiration and saw your hand raise a bit like you wanted to feel his features you thought as surreal.

- He only smirked a bit and answered that that was the heredity of his folk, then turned the question on you and asked, “How come whenever the sun hits your skin, you start glowing?”. He watched you stare at him in shock.

- From there on, you two had nice conversations but then you suddenly didn’t see him anymore. You assumed he was getting caught up in a lot of missions and became too busy, which lead to dreading if he could’ve been killed.

- This proceeded for years unbeknownst of him participating in the Akatsuki. But today, he saw you stand behind the podium winning cheers from the crowd. He felt the weird feeling of an adrenaline rush pumping through his bloodstream as his heart rate accelerated by the second he kept looking at you.

- He began to space out from your words, then pondered to himself how he followed the code of the Shinobi in order to “kill his emotions”, which would prevent the average from running wild and causing the mission to be a failure.

- Despite if he was able to feel a drawback from violence, he sadistically enjoyed fighting so there was nothing more that could ever make him feel so vulnerable. He didn’t want to look weak.

- Itachi noticed how Kisame stared at you and honestly he couldn’t blame him. But there was something he sensed other than the gravitation of your beauty, but more like Kisame was remembering you. Like he recalled your appearance from years ago and felt some type of desperation or allure to speak to you.

- “If you wish to speak to her, I recommend this cafe I saw not too far from here. Or take her for a stroll along the street side and visit this flower shop with the biggest garden. But do it when it’s getting darker— the time we’re not on duty.” Itachi assisted, much to his friend’s surprise. “Trust me, I don’t need my sharingan to see how you look at her.”

- With that, Kisame left an anonymous note, telling you to meet him at the heart of the village, where there’s an enormous flower bed, at 8. You wore a fitted kente dress with bell sleeves flaring at your wrists and adorned your hair with a head wrap—having the complementing color, red. His eyes lit up when he saw you approaching the address, watching you look around until you see a man rise from where he was sitting.

- Your mouth was agape in shock as you had a closer look, throwing yourself at him before slowly wrapping your arms around his neck. Kisame stiffened at your display of happiness since he wasn’t sure how you felt about his appearance, if you had a new life with someone or if you shared the same feelings as him. Yet, he wrapped an arm around your waist and walked with you that night.

Deidara

- Deidara felt at ease by the village he was assigned. Unfortunately, being tasked with Tobi made his experience less enjoyable than he would’ve liked.

- But he accredited Nikkōgakure for the artful displays of rainbow freckles adorning the window boxes, the raised medians, or by canopying storefronts. The village always seemed like it was in the presence of a clear sky; the sun mooring itself in the blue as if anchored to heaven’s ether. It wasn’t too hot, nor too cold but adequate for the black cloak he was wearing.

- Tobi openly expressed his awestruck by continuously wanting to stop at places. He even grabbed a brochure upon entering which contained a map of the village, since they were aware of often having newcomers.

- He wandered different places to the point where Deidara would be looking in one direction and next thing turn to see that Tobi is gone. He caught him sniffing the ingredients being chopped up at a vegetable soup stall; tasting some of the scooped broth from the wooden spoon the cook used to mix.

- Deidara snatched him from the stand, “You dunderhead! Do you know what we were even sent here for—,” Tobi raised a finger in clarification. “Don’t answer that question. We are here because there was traces left of a jinchuriki, while you’re steady lollygagging around with your head stuck in a shit-filled world of cupcakes and rainbows called your ASS! Hm. It’s like I’m looking after a fucking child.”

- But then, he noticed that Tobi was looking in another direction; poking his finger out for a black swallowtail butterfly. His menacing glare made the male detect it was silent and looked towards Deidara. “I’m sorry, what did you say again?”

- The blond growled in frustration, chasing after Tobi until he caught him and punched him unconscious. With a huge knot on the man’s head, he snored with a snot bubble drawing from his nose as Deidara dragged him by the back of his collar.

- Suddenly, the snot bubble popped shortly after Tobi awakened. Five minutes into realizing Deidara was pulling him, he caught sight of an art exhibit.

- “Hey Deidara!” Tobi’s childish accent startled the boy. “How did you—” “Look! An art exhibit!”

- Deidara begrudgingly turned to his side to see what appeared to be a church with gardened—pruned—shrubs of hydrangeas; blossoming large, globe shaped flower heads in shades of purple, blue, pink and white.

- “I’m not falling for another one of your shenanigans.” He resisted. “Oh please! I promise this is the last stop! Gaah, I thought you liked art.” Tobi whined. “Art comes in many forms. What would you know about it anyway? Hm.” “It just looks so pretty in there. Do you even try to take your time with things once in a while? Ya know to soak everything in? Enjoy it while it lasts? Yeesh, you should indulge in yourself more.” “Shut it.”

-Although, in the back of Deidara’s mind, Tobi actually made a point. Their duties often consisted of violence after the lead of Nagato or “Pain” concluded that the only way the world would turn away from its constant warfare would be to experience such catastrophic death destruction that it could never again stomach the idea of conflict.

- Nikkōgakure had many amenities that it already looked like it was in its own world of peace. There were only a few times the members had a day off, why not take the opportunity to enjoy himself a bit while he had the chance now? “Your pondering silence means you’re letting my words settle in, doesn’t it? Go on, I’m waiting.” Tobi said, beginning to file his nails. “You really have the nerve to test my patience when it’s my decision to choose how we’re carrying out our mission, hm. I bet you chose an art exhibit just because you knew I like art.” Deidara anticipated. “Who cares? Can we just go in now?”

- Tobi rocked on his heels and swayed in place in impatience, mentally questioning what could possibly be keeping the boy from submitting into a positive answer. Deidara sighed, “Fine, whatever. We don’t have all day.”. The man-child squealed and raised his arms in the air as he quickly ran through the doors. Approaching the exhibit, Deidara’s interest in the hydrangeas returned; feeling drawn to reach out to a grouplet of periwinkle flowers. He was surprised to feel the sensation of paper, stroking his thumb on the cut out petals to realize they were made out of coffee filters. “Incredible, they look so realistic.” He thought.

- On entering, it was even more colorful inside; each of the whitewashed walls possessed by the colors refracting and dispersing from the sun’s light. The walls had pictorial designs of contrasting pieces like mosaics but as stained glass. They took on the designs of flowers with their leaves blooming from the lead frame by being painted along each side of the room. Most significantly, up in the front of the main entrance, there was a large window panel of a tree; it’s branches winding away from it into leaves of different colors. They were soft shades of pink, blue, yellow and green. “Truly beautiful.” Deidara thought.

- Then, he realized he lost track of Tobi. Although Tobi was an adult and could take care of himself (past tense “could”), it was more like he couldn’t because of his antics. Plus, he wanted to make sure they remained on track of their mission.

- On his search to look for him, he was still in amazement of the exhibit and found himself walking down different halls. The building was a combination of both indoors and outdoors. Some of the roofs became like a greenhouse; transparent ceilings allowing the sunlight to shine through as rooms became greenery with more artwork.

- There was a imperceptible voice down the halls, so he began to follow it. He was finally brought to another room but it was filled with people. He almost ignored it until he caught a glimpse of a girl. You were on stage, a blissful smile wide on your face while he acknowledged that you were the one speaking. He took a double take once he saw you; your hair is in tribal braids, free of your face as they accentuated your golden features. Your eyes never aged, they still spoke of your youth and liveliness.

- Just as he remembered, back in the days before he joined the Akatsuki, you two were friends in his home village, Iwagakure: Hidden Stone Village or The Hidden Village of the Land of Earth.

- You were a ceramist in the Ceramic Village, a small village in the Land of Wind, who was a practitioner of Hanasaki. Hanasaki was known for its pure white color and the series of fine cracks that run along its surface which resembled blossoming flowers (befitting its name). As it brought fame to Ceramic Village, Ninja of Sunagakure frequently requested that parts for their puppets be made in the Hanasaki style, but Hanaski was already difficult to produce for mere ceramics.

- Masho, leader of the ceramic village and created of Hanasaki, rarely took requests because of this. However, you were compliant with many ninjas including Deidara who used the high-quality clay because inferior clays wouldn’t take the exact forms he wanted nor would their detonation be as impressive. Hanasaki was the best clay he found as well as you being the best person he could rely on it from.

- Ceramic Village began running low on Hanasaki but you had set up kilns and workshops throughout villages and found different types of clay, including a muddy clay in the Village of Lies. Back in the village, Masho and other Hanasaki ceramists were killed because it was bringing the village to its downfall from hugely relying on Hanasaki as a source of income. The killer‘s motive was that it would be better to pursue new art styles.

- But, you survived because you often hung out with Deidara, flying on his C2 dragon (a large, flight capable dragon), while he showcased different explosives and experiments he made. You convinced him into throwing them into the air like they were fireworks so he wouldn’t hurt the tons of life below you. He enjoyed seeing your reactions to his explosives because he wanted to impress you, to show you that your clay wasn’t going to waste.

- This soon came to an end when he suddenly left the village as an S-Rank missing nin. Now that he was seeing you currently, many of his memories were brought back to him and so were his feelings. The instant he saw you made him feel warm inside, like he body began starving for sweetness and clung to an emotional sugar source. The sound of your laughter along with the people in the room ignited something in him.

- “Deidara! There you are. You know you shouldn’t run off like that, I was looking all over for you. But I gotta say, I knew you would explore this place top to bottom.” Tobi said. “You dumbass. It’s not my fault you got lost in here and along that, sounding like a baby looking for his mom. Hm.”. Tobi shook away what Deidara had to say and instead looked ahead to see you. “Sweet mama, whose the babe? Don’t try to deny it Deidara, I saw you making goo goo eyes at her,” He began nudging him. “Come on you can tell me. Who is she? Your girlfriend? Best friend?” “She is none of your business.” Deidara said through grunted teeth.

- He wasn’t sure about going up to you. He expected that you would be mad, if anything feel betrayed that he could’ve used you for Hanasaki clay. Really, he enjoyed your company and developed feelings for you. But he didn’t think that you returned them and after all, there were many other ninjas you made clay for. So, he left without telling you, not thinking it would mean much or have a significance.

- Yet, here he stood, watching you shake hands with the host of the event as everyone applauded you for your speech. “I may be a dumbass but you really would if you don’t go and talk to her.” Tobi chimed into Deidara’s trance. “Don’t tell me what to do. Don’t you think I would if I could. Hm.” “Why can’t you? She’s right there! The gods have chosen you two to meet each other again!” “Would you shut up.” While they were bickering, you slowly walked up to the blond, recollecting your memories of your old friend.

- “Deidara?” His body jolted at the sound of his name, like you scared him or he was caught by surprise. He slowly turned to look at you, his roseate cheeks burning when you were much closer to him than behind the podium. You looked even more attractive to him being a short distance away; the way your lashes distinguished the gold flame in your brown hues, the way the sunlight shining through the transparent walls hit your skin. “Long time no see.” He could only say through his awestruck, expressing his familiar smirk he always given you. Maybe Tobi did hand it to him this time, he could’ve been onto something all along.

Obito Uchiha

- “Tobi” arrived at Nikkōgakure on his own. Instead of it obligating to be a mission, he knew where your whereabouts were and visited the village following as you described.

- “Dear Tobi, It’s a village named Nikkōgakure. It is very beautiful here; there are flowers everywhere and the people seem so happy. You will notice the disappearance of clouds but a clear blue sky, making way for the sun’s rays. I believe Nikkōgakure has made a settlement somewhere near the outer circle of the equator since the village’s weather is always content and sunny—just right. Turns out, I will be included in a meeting with other kages in order to suggest a change in poverty villages or else referred to as slums. They are low income places where people were displaced in from wars. We are planning to be supplementing money and food into these villages so they may rise and expand on shinobi forces. Then we could affiliate our alliances for times of need...meet me at the sun perennial garden. I hope to see you soon. Sincerely yours, Y/N.”

- You met Obito after he was saved from White Zetsu who was following orders from an elderly Madara. You were a subordinate of Madara, who took you under his wing because of your omni-benevolence. Along with his Eye of the Moon Plan; replacing the contemporary world of violence and death with one where nobody ever needs to die, he spent his time keeping a close eye on Konohagakure to find a suitable pawn to take his place.

- Omni-benevolence meant that you had the capacity to be infinitely good and good in every capacity that good is recognized by any sentient being in existence. This associated with embodying virtues that consisted of your capability of seeking unity and being able to join others or have others join you. You subconsciously emitted an aura that could induce emotions; generally that of compassion, courage, peace or charity. The inducement would draw others to you; alluring social attraction to make people feel appreciation, respect, trust or a liking towards you. It would form an allegiance with that person or anyone you encounter.

- Madara observed this and thought he could use it as another tactic for his idealism of world peace. He could use you to align different villages who crossed each other as enemies and end all conflicts that contributed to war. At the time, since you were only a simple villager who worked at an orphanage in Konoha, it took little for Madara to send Black Zetsu to sway you into Madara’s plans. Black Zetsu opted that you were born with supernatural/psionic abilities and could be the aid for world peace, leading you into the mastermind behind it.

- From the moment on, you were by Madara’s side and helped tended to Obito’s injuries; following the procedure of removing his body parts too damaged to be healed and replacing them with limbs cultivated from the cells of Hashirama Senju. Obito felt frightened by the legendary Uchiha but immediately fell comfortable by your mere presence. He felt indebted to Madara for saving his life, along with you and was willing to render any assistance he could, an offer Madara made clear he would collect upon. However, you had no harmful intentions and would often share your backstory with Obito as a way of bonding.

- Being an orphan himself; Obito grew up without knowing who his parents were and was left in the care of his grandmother. Hence, he felt alone in the world and aspired to become the Hokage so that the people of the village could acknowledge his existence. Finding out that you were training your natural abilities by working at an orphanage, made him feel warm and felt as though you were doing him a favor too.

- After witnessing the loss of Rin Nohara by Kakashi unintentionally plunging his chidori through her heart, Obito vowed to do anything for Madara if it could bring him together with Rin and Kakashi again. Now, Madara would explain his Eye of the Moon Plan and imparted all of his knowledge and plans to Obito, taught him abilities he would need moving forward, entrusted him with his possessions and would have you along with Black Zetsu to assist as a guide. Until Madara’s revival, he told Obito that he would act as Madara Uchiha.

- You knew all about the plan moving forward and there wasn’t a single bone of malevolence in your body. Although Obito was technically in leadership of the plan, you walked up to the man while he watched the sunset and made a proposal to him, newly as Madara.

- “How about we go through with the plan in two ways. I would like to go undercover as a Civil Rights activist to create conditions for the healing of the brain as a resolve to world problems and spread more love. To spread a new philosophical idea.” You said. “Look at you, Y/N. Too pure to be tainted by the world’s sickness. You sugarcoat Earth’s harsh realities with the idea that there can be social change. If anything, humans should be wiped off the face of the planet. We take and take from Earth and yet there is not plenty for all because some of us are greedy and seek a profit. God used to be our guide. Now people worship the corruption of money. There is much evilness upon our world. We lust after killing one another. And no one seems to care.” Obito unfolded, his voice almost cracking.

- “Madara has projected his hatred onto you. It is the Curse of Hatred that has imbued your disillusionment.” You softly whispered in his ear. “An Uchiha’s love can instantaneously turn into hatred, leaving them more inclined to do anything and everything in their power to achieve their goals and show their own superiority, regardless of the consequences and repercussions of their actions. I can heal that, I can allege the world in love.” You noticed he became calmer by your words, the pace of his breathing slowed and with the patient intent to listen to you speak.

- You continued, “Love reduces the cortisol, the stress hormone, which alters brain architecture for the better. Of course I agree with you that humans are imperfect, their flaws drilled and fracked into our planet. We aren’t evolved enough to be trusted with love. We’d try to engineer it, alter it, use it, weaponize it. Power addiction is always the wrong route to escape fear. The only way to understand love is to feel it, embody it, embrace it.” Obito stood in silence for a bit, you assuming that he was taking in your words. Then he sighed, “And you have a feeling this could work?” “Well, the question is, how do you know your plan will work? Will everything matter in the end?” He acknowledged your words again, feeling the lightest bit of hope. “Fine.”

- He concluded that you will have to send letters of your progress as evidence that your plan is going through development. Or else, they will result to what was set originally of projecting the Infinite Tsukuyomi on the moon in order to trap the world in a dream, thus saving mankind from destroying itself but robbing free will of the world.

- This lead up to recently, visiting Nikkōgakure to see you. Just like you addressed, you two met at the Sun Perennial Garden; the flower beds of Daylilies, Hollyhocks, Geraniums, Alstroemerias, etc. The huge glass enclosed garden was filled with butterflies and hummingbirds, like an exhibit, with pathways of stepping stones—tiny flowers blooming between the crevices. He felt that warm feeling again, just as he did when he was first getting to know you. He looked at you with your hair braided into dookie braids (or known as jumbo box braids) that lengthened down your back. You dressed in a patterned halter top with a matching wrap skirt and strapped heels, expressing your body to the homely temperature. He thought you looked more prettier than ever, not because of your open honey brown skin, but because of the peace illustrated on your face. It made him realize maybe the death of Rin could’ve meant something. Not that it was good.

- But was it for the sake of moving on? Meaning so he could make room for another? Or so he could realize the inevitability of death opens the door to pure potential that can make you a better, more open and loving person? All he knew was that it all had to wind down with him meeting you and slowly falling in love like you were saying. I can allege the world in love.

Sorry to keep everyone waiting! I hope you all are having a great day and enjoyed reading!🤎🍫

#naruto x reader #obito x reader #akatsuki x reader #Naruto shippuden x reader #deidara x reader #Kisame x reader #naruto x poc!reader #naruto x black reader #Akatsuki x black reader #obito uchiha x reader #anime x black!reader

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cienie-isengardu · 3 years

Note

There is one thing that you mention a lot and it is Bi-Han's lack of social skills and well I do not agree at all, that is, Bi-Han as with Sektor is quite introverted but I do believe that the Lin kuei taught them social skills to be able to infiltrate them among the people during missions. Bi-Han I think he has manners and social skills but he doesn't hide when he doesn't like someone. He was sarcastic with Quan chi but at no time did he insult him or refuse to do his job

I do not have any doubt that Bi-Han’s speech patterns depend on whom he is interacting (x) but as much as honesty and straightforwardness are in itself valuable traits, frankness is not always an acceptable choice to rely on. Having social skills helps to navigate how to behave and talk to different people to not overstep or break generally accepted norms and in result, to build a healthy relationship, or in case of living in a strict warrior society, to not get in trouble. Bi-Han for me lacks in this department, especially in mentioned interaction with Quan Chi, because he was not on equal ground with the sorcerer yet had this borderline challenging attitude. And most likely yes, some of the rudeness came from not liking nor respecting the suspicious guy that already proved to be some insidious bastard for hiring another man for the same job. But the thing is, he wasn’t there to question a lucrative customer that was personally approved by the Grandmaster and he should keep his accusations and rude remarks to himself, not throw it into the sorcerer's face just like that.

I mean, as much as dark and evil Lin Kuei are, customer service is a vital part of the earning money process. Bi-Han wasn’t there as equal to Grandmaster (the superior whom he swore to obey) nor Quan Chi (approved client). Between these three characters, Sub-Zero was just a tool to finish an already made transaction, no one was interested in what he thought or felt at that moment. As much as the accusation to some degree may be forgiven, since Quan Chi openly antagonized Sub-Zero by calling Lin Kuei the ninja (an intended insult) and admitted to hiring Shiray Ryu (the enemy of Lin Kuei), he shouldn’t be so aggressive nor so open. It toned down once Grandmaster stopped their argument. Even then, Bi-Han could - should - ask about the mission in a more polite or at least neutral way, instead of “If it's so precious, why don't you get it yourself?”, since his superior made it clear Sub-Zero is gonna do another job for the client (“Now you will use the map on your next mission. Quan Chi has once again retained your services”).

The whole situation feel to me like Grandmaster promised Quan Chi the best man for the job but said man had this “fuck you” attitude from the start. Sub-Zero represented Lin Kuei but instead of the professional and obedient subordinate of Grandmaster there was an abrasive warrior who called Quan Chi on his lies and backed down only because his boss had enough of his attitude and the pointless argument. Not the best social awareness if you ask me.

Bi-Han wasn’t any more polite to Raiden (“That's it? Not even a thank you?”) and either deliberately provoked Scorpion during the Tournament or he was simply brutally honest about not caring about Shirai Ryu’s fate. Which, considering what he knew about the massacre, Scorpion’s obsession about him and just heard Hanzo’s promise to not kill him, he was stubbornly arrogant or really lacked empathy or good understanding of emotional impact his words may have on his sworn enemy. Considering how Bi-Han is described as “the most cunning” above all, we know he is pretty intelligent. But his harsh, abrasive, often confrontational behaviour makes me think he is good with cold logic, not exactly with empathy and because of that, he is not always reading the situation well and may “forget his place” when dealing with people he does not respect or care about or outright provoke them in the worst way. The whole argument with Quan Chi in the first place shouldn’t even happen because really, it wouldn’t be the first time an outsider (client) didn't care about the assassin's life and saw him as just a tool. Grandmaster himself wasn’t bothered nor surprised by Quan Chi’s deal with Shirai Ryu and so Bi-Han’s outburst is even more out of place in my opinion.

How much of this is Bi-Han’s intention to be a rude bastard and how much came from limited social skills (and maybe from introverted nature?) is of course up to debate. But to be fair, all cryomancers have this cheeky and passive-aggressive attitude in common (Frost for example seems like being constantly angry at everyone and doesn’t hold her sharp tongue, younger Kuai Liang literally disturbed Mortal Kombat last Tournament and told Shao Kahn to give him murderer of brother, Conquest!Sub-Zero was no less stubborn and asocial). I do see cryomancers in general as the asocial, aromantic & asexual (maybe even autistic to some degree?) people whose natural coldness may have handicapped sense of social norms and the fact that they are trained killers (thus have empathy dulled even more) don’t help at all.

At the same time, I strongly believe that not every warrior was constantly or even often working undercover and Lin Kuei used its members adequately to their skills. Some are better at spying (thus are better at interacting with people to get the needed information), some are better killers (whose interaction with people doesn't matter as long as the job is finished). There is not enough source material to say for sure what was Bi-Han’s specialization but Mythologies: Sub-Zero strongly suggest is was actually assassination and theft, as we were told by Grandmaster (“Once again, our most cunning assassin and thief is successful.”). The known jobs he did involved breaking into heavily guarded places (Shaolin Temple, Temple of Elements) to steal artifacts and killing people on the way. There was no need for Bi-Han to have any social skills nor during the Mortal Kombat Tournament, when he was hired exactly to eliminate (kill) Earthrealm’s Champions. Of course, this is barely the tip of the iceberg, more or less the last year of Bi-Han’s life, but if he truly was one of the clan's best, sending him on long-term undercover missions could be a waste of an opportunity for profitable earnings. I mean, stealing and killing are usually short-termed jobs, the “go in and get out” as fast as possible to not leave any trace behind. Those jobs of course also take time for proper preparation but because of its specific nature, a warrior can be sent from one place to another almost immediately, especially if the lucrative customer (like Shang Tsung or Quan Chi) needs to solve an urgent problems quickly. The game and movies are separated sources, but Mortal Kombat (2021) seems too put Bi-Han mainly on the assassination jobs or staying at Shang Tsung’s side than anything truly involding good understanding of social ettiquete; beside the sorcerer, Bi-Han did not interact much with other people, even with his own allies. Then there is the possibility that Bi-Han could work ultimately more in lawless, wild Outworld than modern Earthrealm which also would affect his behaviour and sense of social norms.

I believe Bi-Han took some undercover missions, but I see him more like operating in the city to do some quick dirty jobs and moving to another target than staying in one place for months while playing “normal” human being. That way he was more useful to clan by earning good money in short period of time and maybe correcting faults of other warriors (supervising them) or killing Shirai Ruy / enemy’s agents along the way. He probably could fit into society for a specified period of time if that was absolutely necessary but I don’t think it happened often. And even then, he most likely kept to himself because Bi-Han is introverted by nature.

At the end of day, the coldness and social detachment was a useful trait for a killer and murdering was most likely Sub-Zero’s expertise so forcing him to spend months on anything else seems to me like wasting both his potential and good job offers. So the Grandmaster (Lin Kuei) could tolerate Sub-Zero’s natural frankness because his social skills weren’t ever the priority.

Bi-Han’s abrasive ways to communicate with others, lack of empathy, the visible isolating himself leads me to think he lacks social skills (and maybe even could fit somewhere on autistic spectrum). At this point of time, I think cryomancers in general are dense when it comes to social norms and interacting with people and I don’t mean it as they are stupid or unable to learn. They just have different (mental?) mindset about such things than other people, even other Lin Kuei warriors. Of course, it is just my take on the matter so anyone can disagree : )

(Ironically, I have the impression that Sektor would do better in long-term undercover work than Bi-Han but he is hardly better at pretending to be a normal human being. The difference is that he is the quiet type easy to overlook while anyone not familiar with Bi-Han's specific behaviour will see him as the rude bastard.)

#mortal kombat #my replies #bi han #sub zero #sektor #lin kuei #cryomancers #are in my mind the asocial aromantic asexual group that has zero social skills #which is why they seems to be the angry rude bastards with no will to change in that matter #you can rip this headcanon #from my cold dead hands #also lately more and more i wonder if Bi-Han (and Sektor for that matter) is not autistic to some degree #with the visible isolating himself and bad communication skills #ramblings #anyway i think there is not enough sources to tell for sure if bi han is just a rude bastard or just bad at talking to other people

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ive-tumbled-down-a-rabbit-hole · 3 years

Text

Heather

A one shot based on Conan Gray's Heather song.

First attempt at writing since an early teenager so apologies if it's a little disjointed. And thank you @boldlyanxious for your encouragement to take the plunge and actually get this idea out my head!

Also to @zambie-trashart @loveswifi for being amazing and connecting people ❤️

Masterlist

..................................................................................

Damian and Jon were a dynamic duo. Best friends. Super sons since they were “forced together” Damian taking the lead with Jon following shortly behind. Damian’s brothers liked to tease him, that Jon was like a puppy dog, with his “adoring eyes” only for Damian. ‘Tt’ thought Damian. Jon was his acquaintance and team mate of course he would follow him. They were a Super Son duo team; it was them against the world.

Jon and Damian were in the training room when Batman and Wonder Woman wandered with an unknown person.

“Robin, Superboy, this is Ladybug, Wonder Woman’s apprentice.” Batman said when Damian and Jon had paused from training. “She will be joining you on your next recon mission. She has just rejoined the world from being in Themyscira for a while. Working with you two will help her readjust to working with the Justice League.”

Jon, rushing up to the newly introduced Ladybug “Hi there, I’m Superboy! WOw you’ve been to Themyscira? What is it like?? Do you have super powers! We have a briefing on the mission in an hour, have you been shown around the base yet?”

Damian turned to Batman and hissed “Can we trust her? We don’t know her at all. She will be a liability” not impressed by the surprise new element and glaring at her when he got the chance.

“Robin” growled Batman, “She can be trusted, you will work with her nicely”.

Wonder Woman observed the situation with mirth while Ladybug just looked overwhelmed with the conflicting energy pulsing between everyone.

Diana’s apprentice, “Ladybug” was a similar age to them and after that initial mission she ended up joining them on other missions.

Damian wasn’t happy with this initially, but he slowly started to warm to her. Ladybug held secret identities in high regard and never tried to “uncover” his or Jon’s, she took missions seriously, far more than Jon, and was apt at strategizing and working with the bare minimum. She didn’t demand their attention, monopolise Jon or try to be best friends with them. She needed work on her fighting technique outside the suit and had trust issues too, but eventually she grew on Damian. It helped she listened to his critique and responded accordingly as well as took any opportunity to train especially with him and Jon. Compared to others Damian and Jon could have been paired with, she was adequate.

Jon welcomed her too quickly from Damian’s point of view, but he followed Damian’s lead for the most part when socialising with her, though always friendly didn’t reveal too many secrets unintentionally. On the positive, Jon had ‘finally learnt’ some etiquette with others. Jon didn’t drape his arm over her shoulder or continually try to initiate his tactile friendship with her like he had with him. Damian would rather not scare Ladybug off with Jon’s annoying need to hang off people. After the last mission when paired with a Green Lantern, he’d rather work with her than be paired with someone else, she was tolerable at least.

….....................................................................

Damian had been noticing a shift occurring in his best friend over the last year or so. At first, he was finally learning how to tone down his tactility with their friendship. Damian was pleased with the result as Jon was finally growing up, though he did miss the warmth of Jon’s arm over him occasionally or the enthusiastic hugs when they met up, especially when it was just the pair of them. He would never admit it out loud, but the hugs were something he never thought he would miss. He missed Jon lean his head on his shoulder when they watched films together. The sleepovers had subtly reduced too. That Damian really did miss. At least Jon’s social etiquette had improved though.

Well, that was Damians originally though, more recently he had noticed Jon was slowly losing his newly gained etiquette with Ladybug. His tactility was starting to return around her, and it was very unbecoming. Damian had sworn Jon had finally been trained out of that, what was worse though, was Ladybug started to respond in subtle tactility too. Not as extreme as Jon’s and was, a hand on his shoulder, a 'la bise’ when greeting, all within socially acceptable etiquette, but it should be frowned on. They were professionals. She was encouraging Jon’s behaviour to return. Damian did note that it seemed only with her though, he couldn’t make that out. Part of him wanted it to return with him too or only him maybe.

….........................................................................

Damian was sulking down in the Batcave when his “idiotic” brothers found him.

Upon seeing Damian growling at the computer searching through a case “What’s up little D? I thought you usually patrol with Jon tonight” echod around the cave. Damian glared at Dick “He cancelled. Jon said he is training Ladybug this evening”.

Jason whistled “So he finally got over his crush on you and moved on to Ladybug huh!”

Tim replied “Kon says he doesn’t shut up about her at home.” putting on a ‘high pitched voice Tim continued “‘Oh, what blue eyes she has’ ‘Oh, how strong she is’ ‘how pretty her smile is’”

Damian turned his glare to his other brothers. “Tt, Drake stop with that infuriating voice. Todd, Jon does not have a crush on me! That is ridiculous! He is training with Ladybug to improve her fighting skills and strength. She is overly cautious when in her suit with those without super strength therefore Jon is the perfect candidate. And Drake you are being ridiculous. If Jon and I mean IF he likes her it should be for her hero professionalism not for her looks! Tt'' rolling his eyes at the absurdity of the situation.

“Oh please! Jon has been flirting with you for years and not got anywhere. Ladybug turns up and responds to his flirting of course he’ll move on and want to spend time with her. He is using the training as an excuse to be close with her ALONE. If he really wanted to train, he’d have invited you too for feedback.” Jason snarked back.

That got Damian to pause for a second, though still scowling at his siblings. ‘Why hadn’t he invited him along to help train. He was always up for training and was happy that Ladybug had started to get Jon to consider training more seriously… wait, what if Todd was right and that wasn’t what Jon was after…. And Jon flirting with him... when did he do that???’

“Please tell me, you knew Jon was flirting with you right! That you were ignoring his advances due to being uninterested and didn’t want to hurt his feelings more than you were. Don’t say that you are pulling a Bruce and being dense on the emotion spectrum” supplied Tim.

“Jon has never flirted with me Todd! Drake! He is my best friend that is all and being a good partner to Ladybug” spat out Damian and looked as if he would reach for his katana any moment now.

Dick taking pity on Damian, stepped in before any maiming occurred and the conversation got any more heated. “Little D, you do realise that there are other methods of flirting other than the ones we typically witness at Gala’s where people ‘thrusting’ themselves on to us. That there are different languages of love? Jon’s most obvious ones are spending time, touch… I’d agree with Jay and Timmy. Jon did have a crush on you with him following you around all the time, even at his own inconvenience. His constant touch and being near you. The puppy dog eyes which he only gave you. You must have noticed this. And this had started to decrease before Ladybug’s arrival. I’m betting he got fed up with waiting for you to notice him and started noticing others. Ladybug has just kick jumped his next crush, and I’m guessing, and I do mean I’m guessing, but based on the facts and observations she returns his feelings.” Dick then turned and grabbed Tim and Jason and started drag them to change for patrol, “We’ll leave you to process”, frowning at Tim and putting a hand over Jason’s mouth when they looked like they wanted to say something more.

Post patrol Damian went to do research in his room on his ‘secret laptop’, he did not trust Tim not to try and hack into his known tech. Damian looked up “flirting techniques”, language of “love”, then “how to tell if someone is flirting with you” “how to tell if you like or love someone” and “how to interpret your own feelings”. Dread built in his stomach.

When Damian did fall asleep it was not fitful slumber at all.

I still remember the third of December, me in your sweater

You said it looked better on me than it did you

Only if you knew how much I liked you

But I watch your eyes as she

Walks by

What a sight for sore eyes

Brighter than the blue sky

She's got you mesmerised while I die

It was at the Justice Leagues winter party; Jon was wrestling Damian into an old Christmas jumper of his. “There! See. It looks fab on you. Actually Dames, I’m pretty sure you wear it better than I did'' Jon stated with a cheeky grin. Damian “Tt, the jumper is hideous” fighting a subtle blush by looking away with Jon being so close. “C’mon Dames. It’s Christmas. The jumpers aren’t meant to be ‘tasteful’ and whatever. It's meant to be....” Jon tailed off. Damian looked back at Jon to follow his line of sight. Ladybug had entered the room with Diana. Damian finally got what his brothers meant with “puppy dog eyes” Jon’s whole face softened as he smiled and waved her over. Damian’s stomach clenched.

Why would you ever kiss me?

I'm not even half as pretty

You gave her your sweater, it's just polyester

But you like her better

Wish I were Heather

Jon greeted Ladybug with a kiss on her cheek, “M you made it! But where’s your jumper?!”. Ladybug replied with a smile “I said I would be here Jon.” then uncharacteristically nervously stated “I wasn’t sure about the jumpers though. It was so open ended” before going into a ranting “Did you mean thick ones, or thin ones, sparkley, tasteful, ugly! Urgh! AND you didn’t respond to my messages to help!”

Damian felt the girl was a whiplash of emotions at times. Jon laughed kindly while semi leaning on Damian though put his hand on Ladybug’s shoulder “Calm down M, here take mine. I brought lots with me as I knew Dames would potentially kick up a fuss. His is the fifth one he tried on”

Jon took his jumper off and handed it to Ladybug. As soon as she had it on Jon fussed over her “We need to have you looking perfect! You pull this jumper off amazingly” causing Ladybug to sport a faint blush.

Damian felt sick. It hit him. Jon liked Ladybug. Jon knew Ladybug’s identity. Jon had liked him, but he only was realising now that he liked him back, but it was too late. Jon was moving on. And Damian couldn’t even blame him. Ladybug was objectively pretty, but she was more. She was a good hero, not just a vigilante but a hero. He’d seen her on missions, and she cared about others, civilians, her team and even criminals and villains she took done with force but strange care. It made sense that Jon would move on with her.

Watch as she stands with her, holding your hand

Put your arm 'round her shoulder, now I'm getting colder

But how could I hate her, she's such an angel

But then again, kinda wish she were dead as she

Walks by

What a sight for sore eyes

Brighter than the blue sky

She's got you mesmerised while I die

From there Damian witnessed Ladybug holding Jon’s hand as he dragged her around introducing her to other members of the league she’d yet to meet. Jon draping his arm over her shoulder, while they held conversations. ‘Just like he used to do with me’ Damian’s brain supplied.

“Hey Brat, how you holding up? You’re looking pretty glum here without Jon and the others keeping you company” Tim surprisingly snuck up on Damian. “Tt, I’m fine Drake. Jon is introducing Ladybug to everyone and ensuring her first party isn’t unpleasant.”

“That doesn’t explain why you aren’t there with them”

Damian looked at Drake with narrow eyes trying to figure out what he was digging for.

“Look Damian. I’m probably not the best here”

“Tt, I’d agree to that” snapped Damian rolling his eyes

“Oi Brat! I meant comfort, support and what not. That’s Dick’s department really” Tim sighed “Damian! Look I’m offering a listening ear, as unfortunately for the pair of us you are my brother, and you look like you need to talk to someone.”

Damian looked at Drake for a moment and contemplated what he wanted to do, other than grab his katana and maim someone. Preferably Drake or... maybe Ladybug, which was a surprising thought.

“I want to hate her, but I can’t as she is a literal angel, and she makes Jon happy.” Damian quietly disclosed to Tim before wandering off to avoid the bombardment of questions that potentially could follow. ‘At least Drake is better than Grayson or Todd to admit that too, his form of torment is less overt’.

Why would you ever kiss me?

I'm not even half as pretty

You gave her your sweater, it's just polyester

But you like her better

I wish I were Heather

Oh, I wish I were Heather

Oh, oh, wish I were Heather

Damian now wasn’t sure whether wondering off from Drake was a good idea after all. He had sneaked out of the main hall where the party was to try and find somewhere quiet to untangle his increasingly chaotic thoughts. Unluckily for him though, he’d stumbled upon Jon showing Ladybug the stars from the gallery room. Before Damian could react by letting them know of his existence or get away, Damain witnessed something he really wished he could unsee. Jon gently lifted Ladybug’s chin and slowly kissed her. He had given her every chance to move away if she had wanted too but she hadn’t.

The nausea and pain returned by the time Damian slipped away from them.

Jon liked Ladybug; Ladybug liked Jon. They were kissing.

‘I wish it was me instead’ ‘I like Jon’ ‘Jon likes Ladybug’ ‘I missed my chance’ whizzed around Damians head.

Damian thoughts spiralled from there. He reviewed his interactions with Jon. He could bash his head against the wall with his obliviousness. Damian took a deep breath and schooled his icy façade back into place. He re-joined the party like he hadn’t witnessed Jon kissing Ladybug and his heart was finally admitting to hurting.

When Jon joined him later, Damian kept his hurt locked up with Jon bounced with happiness in front of him.

“I asked M, I mean Ladybug to be my girlfriend. I was so worried she’d reject me, but she didn’t! She said Yes Dames! M said yes. To me Dames, she actually likes me! Oh gods I didn’t imagine it did I”

Pushing down the hurt, Damian replied “Tt, tonight is real Jon, and she would be an idiot to reject you” ‘like me’ left unspoken.

Why would you ever kiss me?

I'm not even half as pretty

You gave her your sweater, it's just polyester

But you like her better

Wish I were

#maribat #maribat au #marijon #marinette x jon #jon x marinette

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hcppilyevercfter · 2 years

Text

LYLE TIBERIUS ROURKE IS PROUD TO SEND THEIR CHILD, SCARLETT ROURKE, TO THE LAND OF AURADON FOR THE UPCOMING SOCIAL SEASON. WE HEAR THEY’RE GRACEFUL AND EDUCATED, BUT CAN ALSO BE DISLOYAL AND SELF-CENTERED. AND IT’S SAID THEY BARE A REMARKABLE RESEMBLANCE TO LUCY BOYNTON, BUT THAT’S MERELY A COINCIDENCE. WE’RE SURE THEY’LL CAUSE QUITE A STIR IN THE TON THIS YEAR BUT ONLY TIME WILL TELL.

basics.

name: scarlett ann rourke

age: 26 (december 28th, 1799)

parents: rourke

homeland: the shadow realm

gender: ciswoman (she/her)

headcanons. (tw: sexual assault implication)

lyle tiberius rourke didn’t take well to losing. he was an advantageous man, with a steadfast mind that was always a step ahead of those around him, ensuring no matter the situation, he was the one to end up on top. whoever he had to push out of his way was mere collateral damage. nothing personal. he never expected to be the one pushed to his demise, let alone by some insufferable boy with a pathetic bleeding heart. his delirious rage was his one companion in the afterlife, and when resurrected, it only grew.

with so much to occupy his newly reborn time, wishing more than anything to exact revenge, it was quite the surprise when his first and only daughter was born during the commencement of the cauldron war. but when the opportunity presented itself and he came across a woman he desired, well... he certainly didn’t take no as any form of an answer.

revenge, however, never seemed to follow the set plan. banished, he and his daughter were sent to the shadow realm with scarlett’s mother long out of the picture. a weak woman, feeble-minded and ill-suited to raise anyone, it was rourke who took it upon himself to raise her on his own. he taught her plenty, but his most valuable lesson of all was taught while she was young — always do what will best benefit your own interest, and don’t mind who you have to step on to achieve it.

scarlett didn’t have to be told to know that even she could easily be discarded if he no longer saw her of use to him, so she learned how to survive. and for a woman, the best means of survival was in how best to appeal to the male gaze. it was only in the pursuit of finding a worthy suitor did she learn and excel in many a skill. her needlework was always precise, and she knew how to hold a tune, be it in song or on the pianoforte. she knew three languages atop her own (french, spanish, and latin) and was always light on her feet, making for a dance partner anyone would vie for. best of all, she was graced with a beauty that caught many potential suitors’ eyes. scarlett was a woman any would be so lucky to have the privilege in calling her their wife.

the problem was, the shadow realm was not ripe with any she thought deserved the mantle of husband. she had a dalliance or two, but nothing so serious as to expect a life with them. if they could not adequately care for her, what good were they? thinking herself doomed to spinsterhood, she focused on other avenues of interest, namely in dance. it was when put on her beloved pointe shoes, a chance find in a shop known for its stolen goods, did she feel like she was fully in her own body. not a facade, nor anyone else but herself — whoever that was. ballet was her form of expression, and it was when she was most vulnerable, open and raw with no steely cold expression to protect herself from those glancing in from the outside.

if not for the decree heard around the shadow realm, scarlett would have settled for whoever best suited her interest, but with a much bigger pool of bachelors to explore, she has a new goal in mind. someone rich and noble, who will give her a large estate. if not meeting either qualification, then onto the next. with her age, she knows she has no right to be so fickle, but she wishes for what her father couldn’t have. and for a woman, there was no other way to acquire one own’s property or fortune, so whatever poor fool she happened to entrap, so be it. it was nothing personal.

miscellaneous.

sexual orientation: heterosexual. 😪

romantic orientation: heteroromantic. 😒

family: commander lyle tiberius rourke (father), adeline fitzgerald (mother)

height: 5′5

zodiac sign: capricorn

wanted connections.

no thoughts, head empty. throw anything at her. ~(￣▽￣)~*

#( intros. )#( intro | scarlett. )

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earlharcourt · 2 years

Text

TASK TWO ✦ GETTING TO KNOW YOU

BASICS. Full Name: Richard William Edward Harcourt Nicknames: Rich (mostly used by his brother) Skeleton: The Trickster Titles: Earl of Harcourt Cast Position: Nobility Birthdate: 30th May 1770 Birthplace: Nuneham House, Oxfordshire

PHYSICALITY. Height: in (cm): 5' 11" (180 cm) Body Type: Tall, agile with an adequate amount of muscle defination. Hair: medium length, dark brown with slight curls that are only visible during a bright day. Eyes: Brown Skin: fair Do they tan or burn in the sun?: Not burn, but he goes a more reddish colour if he’s been out in the sun for too long. Markings: One scar on his lower abdomen from a duelling match. Walking: When he is alone, Richard’s walk is direct and fast. If he’s walking with somone, he has to make an effor to slow his pace down. Speech: A typical oxford accent Posture/Bearing: In the company of others, Richard keeps his back straight. When he is more at ease, say in the club, he does tend to slouch.

PERSONALITY. Presentation: Richard approaches almost every situation with the a sureness and confidence. He is very sociable and is naturally gifted with a words and likes to put people at ease with either a joke or an innocent flirtation. Interactions: Richard is great in any social setting, be it in a large group or in a smaller one on one situation. When he is in a group setting, it’s more than likely that Richard is in the center of things. Lures: Wit. Richard appreciates a sharp mind be it in a potential romantic partner or even just a confidant. In terms of his interests, his main two has to be languages and music. Richard is a man of words so he loves nothing more than to converse with someone in their own language. Temperament: Anger is something that Richard rarely displays. If his buttons are pushed, he does not shout or hit, he keeps his voice low as to avoid catching anyone’s attention. Richard has a type of personality that often puts others at ease. Reputation: Richard is a rake, through and through and London society would probably have washed their hands of him years ago had it not been for his charm and wit. He may be a rake but he is an excellent flirt and charmer.

HABITS. Favorite Hours: Early morning, just before the world has woken up is Richard’s favourite time of day. No matter the weather, when he wakes, he takes a moment to appreciate the stillness of the moment during those first few minutes he’s awake. Punctuality: Control is something Richard likes to have and running late puts him at the mercy of others so he is always right on time for any pressing matter. Nervous Ticks: When he is nervous, Richard’s smile remains but his hands go behind his back. He either holds his own hand there for support or he ends up fidgeting with his fingers. Sleeping Style: Richard probably has one too many pillows (well, two pillows in total) but he prefes to sleep on his side. When he is alone, he tries to sleep on his back but often ends up on his side come morning.

EDUCATION. School: Richard was a more than adequate student and could have been exceptional had he put a bit more effort in his classes. Still, he graduated from Eton and then Cambridge as any gentleman should. Known Languages: Richard speaks French like a native. He was taught it from a very early age due to having family in France. As well as that Richard is fluent Italian and German, at his mother’s insistance. She knew he wasn’t going to inherit anything so she wanted him to have a skill. Spannish is something knows but he would class it as barely passable. Talents: Playing the piano is a secret talents of Richard’s. He plays it beautifully but only a select few people have heard him play and even less outside those that are not apart of the Harcourt family tree. Learning Style: Auditory. Richard prefers listening to information that is presented to them vocally.He works well in group settings where vocal collaboration is present and also enjoys reading aloud to themselves, too.

PHILOSOPHY. Religion: Protestantism Superstitions: breaking a mirror is bad luck, knocking on wood twice for good luck and also throwing salt over his shoulder to get rid of bad spirits. Virtues: Richard exhibits Charity (to an extent), Diligence, Humility, Kindness and Patience Vices: Richard exhibits Lust, Gluttony and Despair

RELATIONSHIPS. Family: Richard has a hard time defining family as he’s lost so much. He and his brother were very close but Richard and his father were always at odds. For those he thinks of as family, he tries not to as they can leave and Richard does not want to have any hint of that pain again. Friendships: Richard is very much a people person. He enjoys spending time with others, even back to his school days. He was rarely alone and he preferred it that way. Recently, he’s just getting back into that way of being. Friends in Need: If a friend is in need, Richard would drop anything to help them in what ever way he could. Needing a Friend: Richard would struggle and usually if he’s asking for help, it’s because he’s back into a corner and can’t see a way out. Discord: Being a people pleaser and generally enjoying others for company, it takes a lot for Richard to get rilled up. If there is an arguement or disgareement, Richard tries to deal with it quietly. There are times were he can be very petty and passive aggressive though. Enemies: It would take a lot for someone to be considered Richard’s enemey. He’s yet to truly have one as an enemy would also be his equal in many ways.

MOTIVATIONS. Intentions: In short, he needs a wife. His family tree is almost bare and it’s up to him to add to it and not let his family inheritience and titles go to his cousin. Goals: Richard want’s to get back to how he used to be. He wants to be truly joyous and carefree but he can’t see himself truly returning to that person. Fears: The fear of ending up alone or being hurt again. Regrets: Probably the way he left things with some people. Richard is quite the coward when it comes to confrontations or awkward situations so he tends to just leave without explanation. This hasn’t left him in the best of lights sometimes. Breakthroughs: He needs to learn to be brave with his heart, both romantically and friendship wise.

#theseason;task #richard #about #bridgerton rp #regency rp #historical rp #tasks

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massensterben · 3 years

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1. What does your muse smell like?

Bertholdt retains his own scent quite easily. He smells faintly of warm wood with a salt-sweet touch, somewhat musky. Due to his high body temperature his clothing also keeps his scent for quite a while after he takes it off. He prefers soaps with a herbal scent to them so that is also something by which to recognize him. (Fun fact: the official fragrance for Bertholdt includes vanilla, lemon, jasmine, lilac, sandalwood and musk.)

After his return from Paradis, Bertholdt takes up a severe smoking habit which effectively kills his body scent. He smells like cloves and stale smoke now. Nothing to be done about it except stop smoking, but that’s a conversation he won’t be having.

2. What do your muse’s hands feel like?

Bertholdt’s hands are very warm. His fingers are long and his hands quite large though utterly in keeping with his height. He has a soft touch when he wants to but is capable of a death grip that’ll break your wrist. They are strong and skilled hands, and surprisingly nimble. Over the course of his tenure on Paradis, especially after the work he did in the refugee settlement, his hands grew quite rough to the touch from constant use. However, after Shiganshina, he had to regrow his extremities a couple of times and the hands he has now would tell you nothing of the physical labor he’s endured in his life. Just another reason why you can’t judge a book by its cover, in his opinion.

3. What does your muse usually eat in a day?

Bertholdt will eat anything you set down in front of him. He is constantly hungry. Although he won’t go out of his way to do anything about it, he will also not pass up the chance to eat when it presents itself. He isn’t very interested in breakfast as he is a restless sleeper and has a hard time waking up in the morning. His appetite is not equal to his hunger at all, and he has a rather pragmatic opinion on food. He will eat to regain energy and care about specifics only when he has that luxury. As he grew up dirt poor, he has never had the opportunity to be picky about his food. Either he ate what was there, or he didn’t eat.

He will usually keep to five to six small meals as opposed to three large ones. He finds it more comfortable and it works better with his overall lifestyle. When given the choice, he will stick to vegetables and seafood as opposed to meat. Meat was a rarity in his childhood and he has never developed a great fondness for it. He enjoys fried food though.

4. Does your muse have a good singing voice?

Yes. I don’t keep to the Japanese VA for my overall voice headcanon for Bertholdt,but since the acting (which is wonderful, nothing but respect for Tomohisa) has little to do with the singing he does here, it counts. I really enjoy the smooth quality of his voice. It is, funnily enough, closer to what I imagine this way. Bertholdt is not likely to sing to anyone, though. He has no training and no practice. He used to sing to himself a little as a child when he found out about the concept of lullabies but felt very stupid about it and didn’t keep it up. He will quietly hum and mouth along when there is some alcohol-based singing going on during a get-together, but that is the most of it.

The level of intimacy and trust that would have to be established for Bertholdt to freely sing in front of another person has yet to be unearthed. If he were to do it, though, he’d also stick to soft simple melodies, again: lullabies most likely.

5. Does your muse have any bad habits or nervous ticks?

Bertholdt does have some mannerisms that could be called stress responses. For one, when he sits, he will draw his knees up to his chest and hug them, and make himself as small as possible. He does this so he won’t take up more space than necessary and also to feel “safer” in situations which make him uncomfortable. He will also turn non-verbal if he is dealing with emotional turmoil and keep all of it locked up until it explodes out of him in anger.

After his return from Paradis, his habits and tics get more pronounced. He still has trouble articulating himself in emotionally charged moments, but what is more prominent is his smoking habit. He does it to combat stress and insomnia and swears it works. Whether it does... Eh. He consistently smokes a pack a day but will go through them faster when he is more agitated.

He is also has taken up a nervous tic that involves him tapping his fingers (especially his nails) on flat surfaces around him. He is subconsciously tapping out the Paradisian equivalent for morse code that signals SOS. He picked this up during his time in the Underground and found some comfort in the repeating rhythm when he needed to calm himself. He is not aware that his tapping translates as a call for help.

6. What does your muse usually look like / wear?

When he isn’t wearing whatever uniform he is supposed to be wearing at the given time, he will usually opt for long-sleeved shirts and sweaters. He is fond of dark mute colors, especially blue tones. He prefers to dress conventionally but has a taste for clothing that suggests a higher social standing than he has. He will dress more maturely than his age as well, button-down shirts and cloth trousers especially. He was taught by his father that appearances are important and must be kept. Even when his father barely had the money to feed him, he’d still make sure Bertholdt was well-dressed when he sent him out to find money. Bertholdt kept that attitude and dresses accordingly.

Even after he leaves Paradis, he will usually look deceptively well put-together despite the terrible wreck the rest of his life is at any given point. He will usually wear the uniform provided him by Marley, however, and does not bother with civilian clothing all that much. The uniform serves its purpose. He will, however, wear long trenchcoats on colder days.

7. Is your muse affectionate? How much? How so?

Well, no. Bertholdt has never been reared to exhibit affectionate behavior and hasn’t been shown it from his father as a child. His first brush with it happens when he befriends the other warrior candidates and though he very much enjoys it, he has trouble reciprocating adequately. Bertholdt shows his affections through casual touches and shared activities (e.g. sparring, which to him feels like the one ‘appropriate’ way to be close to others excessively. The rituals are intricate, we know, we know.)

As he grows up, Bertholdt also grows more into himself. He must be coaxed into affection though he is not averse to it. He isn’t a great cuddler by nature and feels put on the spot when he tries to be affectionate with his words. His most honest displays of affection are still physical and will include light touches to shoulder or back, standing in close proximity or the like.

When he returns from Paradis, Bertholdt has fully grown touch-averse and wouldn’t be caught dead exhibiting signs of vulnerability, if he had his way, anyway. He reacts negatively to most displays of affection unless they are somehow covered up and disguised as indirect. He feels he is not deserving of affection and also has no impulse to be affectionate with others. But we’ll get him there eventually.

8. What position does your muse sleep in?

All of them, and a few you haven’t even heard of.

9. Could you hear your muse in the hallway from another room?

Rarely. He doesn’t usually walk with a heavy step unless he is marching, and is not in the habit of making a lot of noise. If he is in conversation or the like it could be easier to overhear him, though, as he doesn’t usually regulate his volume when he is in private. Sometimes he just has things to say.

Tagged by: @oncejaw (<3)

Tagging: @gepanzrt @primasolaris (Jean or Meg) @gedrillt @leastregrets @hiisflame @worstheir

#;;headcanon — aber ansonsten geht's ihm gut.#oof. this was a thing and a half x.x

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visceraah · 3 years

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Unsinkable

My other fic for the @sanderssidesgiftxchange! An analogical titanic fic for @strugglingispointless. And a huge thankyou to @missfay49 for betaing this!!

Rating- teen again! content warnings are in the notes of each chapter

WC- 10873 (I got... very carried away lmao. hope you enjoy!)

Ships- Romantic analogical, backgroundish moceit, and all the sides are in it and interact at one point or another.

AO3

Logan has been the perfect child all of his life. Perfect manners, perfect poise, perfect brain. All that's left is being the perfect husband- marry someone with good status for the family. And he didn't even have to secure his own match, his parents had found one for him.

By all accounts, this should be easy.

Logan learns very, very quickly how wrong that is.

There’s no way in hell I’m posting the whole thing here, but the first chapter is under the cut!

Logan didn’t believe anything was ‘perfect’- there was always space for improvement, no matter how miniscule, and settling for anything less with the claim it was already as good as it could be just seemed, as far as he was concerned, lazy.

He pointed this out every time he heard the word, yet it didn’t stop his parents from using it to describe him. The perfect son. Booksmart, eloquent, impeccable manners. But there was always more to learn, and though ‘perfection’ was in itself subjective his social skills could certainly use some work. He, like everything else, wasn’t perfect. His parents didn’t especially appreciate the observation.

The frustrating thing about being ‘perfect’ was you didn’t make mistakes. You couldn’t. Expectations were high and, for the people who put a roof over his head and clothes on his back, Logan refused to disappoint them. So he spent his days studying, learning as much as he could to live up to an expectation he, realistically, knew was unachievable.

It was only natural he spent most of his time in their library, surrounded by dead peoples words. He didn’t mind that much- people were difficult to understand, but books told you exactly what they meant. They weren’t perfect, either, but they were ideal for learning, curling up in an armchair and forgetting about everything and everyone until you’re torn back to reality.

“Logan!” A shrill voice cried, doing just that. He gently shut his book and set it aside.

“Yes, father?”

“Oh, there you are- so small, that’s hardly a gentlemanly way to sit’ now, is it? I could barely see you. Sit up’ now, sit up- there’s my boy!” He doted, Logan’s back instinctively straightening at the command. “Now… Your mother and I have something to talk to you about.”

Logan scanned over his shoulder, a small frown setting onto his face. “I don’t see her.”

“Oh, darling- That’s because I’m doing the talking!” His father exclaimed with a chuckle, seeming to have thought that was a joke. The laugh felt a little patronising, if you asked Logan, and he had no idea why he’d say it’d be a conversation involving someone who wasn’t present, but he nodded like he understood anyway. Experience showed that was easiest. “Well, we’ve got you a match!”

Logan blinked. His father looked at him expectantly. His frown returned. “What would I do with a match...? I’ve told you tobacco makes my lungs feel constricted, and it’s generally Amy's job to light the fireplaces-”

“Oh, Logan!” He laughed again like he’d said something ridiculous. “A romantic match, silly. A fiancé!”

“Ah.” Logan’s eyes flicked back to his book. He’d been reading about constellations before, and though learning of their origins was somewhat less academic than his other studies, it was a passion of his. “Will that be all?”

“You… don’t want to know about him?” His father prodded in that way that signalled he had been meant to ask for details. Logan shook his head anyway.

“I know I’m around that age, and I trust you to choose an adequate match- so long as I live with a library, I cannot foresee any issues.”

There was a beat of silence, for a minute, before his father seemed to come to terms with his answer. He let out a delayed squeal, squishing Logan’s face uncomfortably between his hands and pressing a kiss he had to fight not to move back from to his forehead. “There’s our boy!”

Logan offered him a smile, hand already reaching back for his book.

Virgil groaned loudly, tearing a page from his sketchbook and crumpling it up in his fist. He threw the balled up paper at the bin... and watched it bounce off the lid, onto the floor with all his other attempts. He slumped and hit his head on the table. Nothing he drew was good enough. Seemed to be a pretty consistent theme in his life, actua--

“I’m home!” He heard his brother yell, almost like the self deprecation had summoned him. That happened a surprising amount, and Virgil was beginning to wonder if he had some kind of sixth sense for wallowing.

“What’re all these?”

Virgil peered up to see Patton scoop up some of his discarded paper and huffed. “Shit.”

“Hey, language!” Patton scolded, unfolding one. Virgil knew better than to protest because, either way, there was nothing he could do to stop the incoming onslaught of validation. Pretty rude of his brother, if you asked him, breaking in like this and ruining his lamenting. “Kiddo, this is amazing!”

“Kinda loses its meaning when you say that about everything, Patt.” Virgil grumbled, pulling his hood up. “It’s covered in mistakes- I kept having to rub them out but it happened so much the paper just looks messy and flaky, but I kept fu- screwing up and-”

“There’s no such thing as a mistake.” Patton scolded lightly, not wanting to let him fix onto something so negative. “Just-”

“If you say ‘happy accidents’ I’m setting the apartment on fire.” Virgil warned, hiding a small smile.

“You know me too well.” Patton replied with a deep sigh, slipping into the chair opposite him and not quite meeting his eyes. “In other news, though... I’ve got news. Oh! I said ‘news’ twice.” He giggled, and Virgil rolled his eyes- before he registered what ‘news’ meant. It meant something new, which meant change and, yeah, they didn’t exactly have the money to keep going as they were in this shitty expensive flat without any work but where else would they go? Were they homeless now? Was the news that they were being kicked out? He knew they were overdue but they had time, still, surely--

“Kiddo! Kiddo, I’m sorry, I should’ve been clearer.” Patton gently pulled him back to reality, the guilty look on his face enough to make Virgil feel terrible for spiralling. He didn’t admit that, though, because it’d make Patton feel worse, and then they’d just be in their own spiral of upsetting one by upsetting the other and he did not have the emotional stability to deal with that. “I have a job!”

Virgil was pretty much a master in nerves, and he could spot them a mile away- especially in his brother. The wringing of hands and avoidance of eye contact wasn’t exactly subtle. Why he’d be nervous about getting work when they needed it so desperately, though, didn’t seem right. Was he a criminal? Were they going to get arrested? “That’s… good?” He offered, before he could jump to any more awful conclusions.

“It is!” Patton nodded eagerly, latching onto it. “Just…”

“Just...?”

“It’s on a boat.”

Virgil's throat went dry. “We can’t swim.”

“I know, but most of the crew can’t, it’s really safe, and we’ll have our own room and it’ll be warm and-”

Virgil shook his head quickly. “We’ll be surrounded by miles and miles of sea and we can’t keep afloat by ourselves and if it sinks we’re fucked and-”

“We… don’t have much of a choice.” Patton reminded him softly, and they both involuntarily looked over at the red envelopes shoved under the door. Their eviction notices. “Anyway, cheer up kiddo- they say it’s unsinkable!”

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meloncubedradpops · 4 years

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Repo! the Corona Opera: Part Two Fascist Boogaloo

Greetings fellow Repo! fans,

Here is my second installment of a series of three essays where I compare our contemporary times with the movie Repo! the Genetic Opera. My first piece detailed the similarities between the two worlds, and turns out, I have an awful lot to talk about still. I ended my last article by posing the question, "What went wrong in this dystopia to normalize the concept of death due to nonpayment?" No doubt, this movie is incredibly outrageous on many fronts, particularly within the dynamics of the Largo family. As mentioned in the previous piece, I highlighted the pervasiveness of GeneCo's power and influence towards the citizens in the city (is it called city of GeneCo? GeneCo-land? GenCity? An actual city in Italy??).

People who write stories often bend the rules to make their story compelling. Be it exaggerating social interactions, creating scientifically impossible scenarios, or even allowing the characters to use technology that does not exist yet. I admit the creators of Repo! applied all those tactics and more, which makes the parallels I draw that much more surreal. I want to acknowledge this before I dive deeper because yes, I truly think it would be impossible to have a company who can offer cheap and dirty surgeries with an absence of debilitating class action lawsuits resulting from botched procedures, infection, or their body rejecting the organ transplant. And while I admit Zydrate does not exist, yet, but we do have a long history with opioid abuse. If you asked me when I first watched the movie if I think the Largo family could be a mirror of an ultra wealthy family from real life, I would have politely disagreed with you. But times right now are freaking weird. A single day does not go by where something completely outlandish is blasted all over the news, particularly in the United States.

In my last essay I pointed out examples where the citizens in GenCity live a life after experiencing a mass extinction event. Besides the technological anachronisms, society and GeneCo have an uncomfortably close relationship with each other. GeneCo is not merely a corporation that offers healthcare and surgeries, it has an unyielding power politically too. I argue that GenCity is ran by a fascist government that is controlled and operated by GeneCo.

If you're not a person who is super familiar with fascism, basically it's an extremist right wing government philosophy. I find it interesting that in the song "21st Century Cure", Graverobber says: Industrialization has crippled the globe. Although plagues, war, and other hardships existed before industrialization, that paradigm of change accelerated the imbalances between man and nature. Fascism did not exist until after World War I, after all. Between the world war itself and the Spanish Flu of 1918, there was a lot of pain and suffering felt all over the world. Fascists took advantage of vulnerable populations and asserted that their political party is the only correct party, and those who oppose are considered an enemy. Historically fascist governments have blurred the lines between the spheres of what's considered "public" and "private", and often danced harmoniously with business allies in pursuit of profit. As an effect, fascist governments have required citizens to foot the bill of a private company's losses. With enough propaganda, fascist governments will have you believing that this is ultimately for the betterment of everyone. And if you give them enough time, they will normalize terrible acts against humanity that barely make a peep, if the truth even comes to light.

For the rest of this essay, I will be highlighting examples in the Repo! movie that correspond with characteristics of fascism, using political scientist Dr. Lawrence Britt's The 14 Characteristics Of Fascism, which was published in the spring 2003 issue of Free Inquiry magazine.

The 14 characteristics are:

1. Powerful and Continuing Nationalism: Fascist regimes tend to make constant use of patriotic mottos, slogans, symbols, songs, and other paraphernalia. Flags are seen everywhere, as are flag symbols on clothing and in public displays.

The world surrounding GeneCo occupies itself with the concept that this incorporated area derives a sense of nationalism, in the absence of much dissent. If you see below, there is an advertisement on the top right corner that says, "Your Birthplace for a new Heredity". GeneCo is not just a company that sells organs and surgeries. It is its own incorporated city. This ad, combined with GeneCo's relentless messaging that not only did this company save humanity, you must conform to the idea that only GeneCo can provide you the experience of feeling clean, safe, and perfect.

2. Disdain for the Recognition of Human Rights Because of fear of enemies and the need for security, the people in fascist regimes are persuaded that human rights can be ignored in certain cases because of "need." The people tend to look the other way or even approve of torture, summary executions, assassinations, long incarcerations of prisoners, etc.

Being able to legally repossess someone's organs because they didn't make their organ payments is about as disdainful as you can get. Nathan has a whole song called "Legal Assassin", and there doesn't appear to be many laws that would at least have the pretense that these repossessions are remotely humane. There are multiple instances in the movie where Nathan approaches a client who is already restrained, panicked, and powerless. From what I can gather from the media in Gencity, GeneCo proliferates the idea that the company would be dysfunctional if people could get financed surgeries and let those payments go to collections. When you're a mega corporation, they let you do it.

3. Identification of Enemies/Scapegoats as a Unifying Cause: The people are rallied into a unifying patriotic frenzy over the need to eliminate a perceived common threat or foe: racial , ethnic or religious minorities; liberals; communists; socialists, terrorists, etc.

While the career of a Graverobber is certainly creepy and macabre, the idea that they could be executed without a jury of their peers is especially strange. After I created my last essay, my friend Veronica pointed out, that per "A Needle Into A Bug", one of the deleted scenes from the movie, that street zydrate is not actually derived from the brains of dead people. He extracts zydrate from bugs that nest inside the craniums of dead people, which in my opinion is a huge distinction. So who is he really stealing from? Is it morally okay to dig up a corpse to get drug goo to sell to junkies? Absolutely not, and the idea is incredibly disrespectful for the dead. And while I am sure there are graverobbers in this world that likely steal things like jewelry from corpses, I still wouldn't justify being executed extrajudicially.

Further, Graverobber's relationship with the Largo family has me believing even more that GeneCo needs them more than their media campaign can justify. Rotti has access to incredible surveillance of the city, so you would think he would eliminate anyone who enabled Amber Sweet's addiction. My theory is GeneCo knows that street zydrate may result in more surgery sales. However they want to continue making money selling the lab-grown stuff. So the end justifies the means, if we can associate graverobbers and those who use street zydrate as criminals, we can continue believing that "they" are the enemies setting everyone else back.

4. Supremacy of the Military: Even when there are widespread domestic problems, the military is given a disproportionate amount of government funding, and the domestic agenda is neglected. Soldiers and military service are glamorized. AND 12. Obsession with Crime and Punishment: Under fascist regimes, the police are given almost limitless power to enforce laws. The people are often willing to overlook police abuses and even forego civil liberties in the name of patriotism. There is often a national police force with virtually unlimited power in fascist nations.

GeneCo employs a private police force to carry out law enforcement. They patrol around a graveyard, a quasi-public space carved out for those who mourn. And because there is pervasive video surveillance, Rotti can demand that they do his bidding at any time. An example is his order to murder the repo man. We aren't aware of any sort of involvement beyond the borders of GenCity, but even the concept of a graveyard being a warzone is a special kind of hell.

5. Rampant Sexism- The governments of fascist nations tend to be almost exclusively male-dominated. Under fascist regimes, traditional gender roles are made more rigid. Opposition to abortion is high, as is homophobia and anti-gay legislation and national policy.

Genterns! On the surface, it’s pretty cool that there is a large volume of female medical professionals who are skilled enough to carry out surgeries. However behind the sexy veneer is the reality that Genterns are not set up for success. They are not provided adequate PPE and work under non-sterile conditions. In the "Mark it Up" scene, one is killed by Luigi. Imagine going to medical school for years and years, only to be tasked with the job of organ warehouse worker. Then on one of your shifts you are stabbed to death because the CEO's son bumped into you while you were working. Not only that, but you are also expected to dress proactively for the purpose of selling the GeneCo product and experience.

6. Controlled Mass Media: Sometimes to media is directly controlled by the government, but in other cases, the media is indirectly controlled by government regulation, or sympathetic media spokespeople and executives. Censorship, especially in war time, is very common. GeneCo has a monopoly on the media of the city. Politics, entertainment, healthcare, you name it, they have a direct stake in, and control over, the media. We do see from time-to-time tabloid clippings of the Largo family. But generally speaking, GeneCo puts a lot of effort in upholding their image. The best evidence is Blind Mag's story. She is a singer who acquired the ability to see after a GeneCo cornea surgery. And while she clocked into work day in and day out, singing and advertising for GeneCo for 17+ years, her departure resulted in Rotti murdering her. But why? Was he afraid of the things she would say? Rotti knew he was terminally ill when she declared her resignation, and yet killing her on stage is somehow less of a scandal?

7. Obsession with National Security: Fear is used as a motivational tool by the government over the masses. Fascist countries use fear as a tactic to keep the masses scared and compliant. The universe of Repo! is one filled with tragedy. Millions of people have died. I would imagine that the series of events that would lead to the creation and success of GeneCo was contingent upon people being scared for their lives. While dealing with the coronavirus, I find myself constantly checking my temperature, keeping my distance from people, and wearing a mask out in public. The human spirit is resilient, which is how we have survived so long. However sociopaths smell our fear and use it against us. The city of GeneCo is surrounded by plots upon plots of graveyards, signifying the carnage left after their public health crisis. I have a strong feeling that GeneCo was able to harness the threat of whatever caused the massive organ failure epidemic and as an effect created a power vacuum.

8. Religion and Government are Intertwined: Governments in fascist nations tend to use the most common religion in the nation as a tool to manipulate public opinion. Religious rhetoric and terminology is common from government leaders, even when the major tenets of the religion are diametrically opposed to the government's policies or actions.

This one is going to be a reach, particularly because there is an absence of religion in this story. I don't think religion would be on the creator's of Repo!'s purview, and honestly I don't blame them. If you look at the imagery of the story, however, it is very gothic. We have no idea if religion survives, and if it does, to what extent. I would imagine that people still have spiritual needs, and I argue that the GeneCo Opera is an example of how they get that fulfilled.

"If you want it, baby, GeneCo's got it"

The GeneCo opera is not your typical opera experience. GeneCo specifically tells their customers to "testify". People are singing in unison, praising GeneCo. Clearly GeneCo has taken several human rituals and blended them together to create an over-the-top entertainment experience that seeks to advertise their company behind the testimonials of its patrons. The benefits of the opera for GeneCo, as a fascist entity, are two-fold: have people associate their most nirvana moments with an experience only GeneCo can offer (zydrate and surgery), and distract them with religious-like concerts so they won't question their neighbors being murdered on the streets by that very same company.

9. Corporate Power is Protected: The industrial and business aristocracy of a fascist nation often are the ones who put the government leaders into power, creating a mutually beneficial business/government relationship and power elite. AND 13. Rampant Cronyism and Corruption: Fascist regimes almost always are governed by groups of friends and associates who appoint each other to government positions and use governmental power and authority to protect their friends from accountability. It is not uncommon in fascist regimes for national resources and even treasures to be appropriated or even outright stolen by government leaders.

Throughout the entire movie, the Largo family is front and center. We know Rotti is terminally ill, and he utilizes his final moments to tie up loose ends in his life. His children feel entitled to his estate and the company of GeneCo. At no point do we see Rotti consult with a board of directors at GeneCo, a private fiduciary firm, or with any government entity. I would describe the company of GeneCo to be a weird combination of an aristocracy, government body, and corporation. His children commit crimes with no recourse or justice. Rotti kills the doctor who tells him he's dying. Luigi kills multiple people throughout the movie. In one of the opening scenes, we see a photograph showing Pavi is cutting off a woman's face. In the credits we see Amber's body guards lying dead on the floor during her press statement. What sort of corruption took place to make these occurrences so prevalent and normalized?

10. Labor Power is Suppressed: Because the organizing power of labor is the only real threat to a fascist government, labor unions are either eliminated entirely, or are severely suppressed.

We aren't super privy to the machinations that make this city functional. But there is a clear stratification that has sustained itself long enough that healthcare is not a right in this city, and those who can't pay for necessary healthcare can finance it. In a just society, if we have the means to save humanity, we can figure out a way to pay for it. Be it taxes on the most wealthy or other cost-saving measures, if there is a will, there is a way. However if you give a company enough power and money, it will do everything it can to stay on top. The best examples I can think of would be Nathan and Blind Mag's tenuous career at GeneCo. Neither really wanted the job they were given, but they were forced into those positions by Rotti. Had Bling Mag belonged to a entertainment union, would she have had more protections? Would a proper investigation into the murder of Marni result in justice being served, and the opportunity for Nathan to live a better adjusted life? Rotti masterfully manipulates situations that create powerless outcomes for his employees.

11. Disdain for Intellectuals: Fascist nations tend to promote and tolerate open hostility to higher education, and academia. It is not uncommon for professors and other academics to be censored or even arrested. Free expression in the arts is openly attacked, and governments often refuse to fund the arts We don't see any particular evidence that GeneCo is currently hostile to higher education or academia. What we do know is the technologies of this world are akin to something we'd see out of the 20th century. However GeneCo is advanced enough to synthesize usable organs. In my last essay, I drew parallels to today by highlighting that there may have been a "brain drain" of intellectualism as a result of academics dying from their public health crisis. Outside of the opera house, we don't see many examples of art in this world. Maybe this is what happens when a government stops funding programs it deems frivolous or challenges the status quo?

14. Fraudulent Elections: Sometimes elections in fascist nations are a complete sham. Other times elections are manipulated by smear campaigns against or even assassination of opposition candidates, use of legislation to control voting numbers or political district boundaries, and manipulation of the media. Fascist nations also typically use their judiciaries to manipulate or control elections.

Based off context clues in the movie, we know that there is a group of voting citizens who help determine whether or not a company can repossess financed organs that are passed due on their payments. We don't know who makes these votes, the election process, or anything like that. So it is hard to say if GeneCo goes beyond their media campaign convincing voters to keep repossessions legal. Despite this lack of knowledge, I would argue that GeneCo wields incredible power regarding the course of elections for laws that apply to them. Okay, you want to pass a law to make organ repossession illegal? Fine, we don't have to offer products on a payment plan. The very threat of being able to take away healthcare is something right wing governments loveeee doing.

Speaking of elections, the United States 2020 general election is approaching. Now that I argued the ways that GeneCo is fascist, I will tie together ideas from both of these essays into a final piece that I hope you will like. If you enjoyed this article, please send it to all your Repo! friends.

#repo! the genetic opera #repo #Fascism #halloween #election #geneco #politics #horror #2020 #coronavirus #zydrate #musicals

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prole-my-tariat · 3 years

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Long post about American politics -specifically California and how we are fucking up.... it’s a good read, just a lot.

Okay, I just want to remind everyone of of few things as we draw closer to a legit recall vote on Gavin Newsom.

1) This movement stated as (and still emplofies) a calling for the worst kind of people - This began with a group of people who just haaaaaaaad to go outside because they were over participating in basic human decency. Then, billionaires used the vaccine debacle as a jumping point to get taxes lowered. Please don’t think they care about wether or not we get vaccinated. They just don’t want to pay taxes.

This has morphed into a call to arms over CAs vaccine response. They are hiding behind a legit issue to push their anti worker narrative.

We need to stop seeing every problem as one sole persons fault. This is a product of late stage capitalism and white supremacy. We are so fixated on “American individualism” that we oft forget that these things don’t happen because of one individual person. Corporations use this against us constantly!!

Newsom is not perfect. He was an idiot to go to that dinner and he rolled over and ended the stay at home order like a fucking idiot. BUT CA has so many more issues that were always going to make a vaccine rollout hard:

- we have the largest state population in the nation.

- there are not enough medical workers for our population.

- many people in our state are undocumented and we can’t and should not leave them behind. They are often skeptic of any database that might take their name and age (and most likely ask for a social). But without adequate medical personnel, getting into each county can be difficult.

- people are still not following covid guidelines!!! We have had huge spikes in hospitalizations and deaths. How can the health care workers we do have give vaccines if they are over worked at hospitals??

- I would not look at other states already vaccinating 20 somethings(outside of high risk) as a win. This means that the vaccines were not distributed with the population in mind. This is such a theme in our country and it goes back to individualism. State individualism. States just don’t have to care that NY and CA have higher populations because it is just not their problem.

- those states are also showing a world wide failure. Young people here should not be getting vaccines, while elders in the developing world are dying because their countries can’t compete with 1st world buyouts.

-vaccine costs. Fuck Bill Gates. He convinced companies to patent and sell the vaccine rather than donate. A fucking asshole.

This brings me to my next and most important point:

2) WE CAN NOT HAVE CHANGE WITHOUT SOLITION!!!

As leftist, I see this trap all of the time. Change is good and needs to happen, but if we let certain things happen without solution, we leave a vacuum for fascism. We cannot let a dangerous group have the answer.

Let’s consider the current candidate to replace Newsom, a tech billionaire. He promises lowered taxes, higher pay for teachers, and a $2000 payment for ever child in California. Pretend everything he says is not full of shit and he is actually going to pay every teacher 70000/year (and not break it up by income in each county....as he def would) and that he will pay $2000 for every kid (will this extend to our undocumented children, probs not).

Please please understand that the lump sum payments we are offered will NEVER amount to the money we loose by not taxing billionaires adequately. This supposed higher pay will not stop teachers from having to use their own money to provide supplies for their classrooms/kids. It won’t change the ridiculous housing market. It won’t fix our school buildings. It won’t provide after school programs. It is a eye catcher, not a solution.

If we really want to provide more funds to schools, we would repeal prop 13. That prop is the fucking biggest joke and hold up of our state. We are allowing huge corporations, such as Disney, to pay property taxes from the fucking 70s!!!!! Property taxes are supposed to fund k-12 schools. But we are not receiving that money, so our schools go underfunded.

Though it gets worse, we supplement a lot of that dispenancy using state tax. This takes away from infrastructure, social programs, affordable housing supplements, etc...If that and sales tax are cut, we loose that funding too. It’s a downward spiral with only one group in a good position. The 1%.

“But these companies are threatening to leave to Texas/Florida, where there are little/no taxes!”

Fucking let them try. We don’t have higher taxes in our state for the fucking hell of it. We have higher taxes because the current capitalistic structure requires a lot of underpaid skilled workers to keep these corporations going. Withthis work force comes families, Schools/education, housing needs, medical needs, shopping, dining, etc.... the social programs needed to barely keep the working class breathing are paid by taxes. The programs created to make it possible for the work force to live an hour away from their under paid job requires taxes. You need large infrastructure, room, accessibility. Taxes go up when corporations go in. Texas and Florida will not remain tax less or low on taxes. They will have to compensate the workforce that comes with these billionaires.

Billionaires know this. If they didn’t they would have jumped ship long ago. They want their California homes and they know they need the working/undocumented class in this state. AND specifically the infrastructure built around and for these working working class peoples (it also keeps the working class away from them). They are going to do everything they can to bleed us dry, while keeping their fourth beach house and their new offices.

We are hyped right now due to the GME stonks “revolution.” We need to keep this energy going. The one percent do not flourish without us. And I am done just barely surving.

Be wary of any promises to cut taxes, they will never benefit you and lump sum payments are created to keep us quite.

The other two candatites I’ve seen circling are Uber right wing jokes. They spread Q bullshit and use really deragatory language.

Don’t. loose. your. fight. They are getting scared because they have had to accept that the masses aren’t stupid. That’s another reason for them to push to open the country. The working class has never been less intelligent, they have just had less time. We have time now. Use it to show that this system can destroy them too.

Thanks for reading. I’m going to end up writing a paper on the danger and destruction of American Individualism, but message me if you want to discuss it.

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ontowanderlust · 3 years

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How to say I love you (5)

A/N: Look, I don’t intend to change what’s written below and just above the story itself. You guys have to bear with this long ass introduction every time. On some unrelated news, first story of 2021! Whoop! Watch me as I update this one next year. lmao no. I’ll try my best to write the next prompt. Oh and as far as I know, this one serves as an AU since S2 is released.

Stay safe people!

Special thanks to: @grimpower-s . My super duper proofreader! My beta! You are simply the best person to ever exist! Thanks for putting up with my mushroom tendencies! Pop pop!

One of the reasons why I haven’t posted this was because of the sucky title. Let me know if you guys have better ideas. The other reason was just I’m too lazy to post this. My betas knew that I had a name written here but I had to revert to second person since… this is tumblr. (Though, the last name is predetermined already, don’t fight me on this.) Let me know if this sucks or if you guys like it.

Also some reminders:

Five is eighteen in this fic

The apocalypse had already happened

(Spoiler) They are sent back in time

And there are some of the 43 involved in this fic- there are 16 actually. Find them all and hit me in my asks if you knew the reference of the names.

Alternatively: 7 times he confessed and the 1 time she accepted his confession / 8 ways to say I Love You

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Prompt: This prompt is brought to you by R. McKinley (you write beautifully, may I just say) and @chickenshit‘s photo edit. I did say that I’m gonna write something about this, right?

=Masterlist=

Despite her being great at nearly everything, hearing is not one of them. (Which her whole family can attest to. Either because they had to repeat themselves for her to hear them or they had to shout to gain her attention.)

When Five first noticed that trait of hers, he had theorised that she liked to practice selective hearing whenever she's around people, in which she debunked and confessed that she just liked to crank the volume of her earphones up to its maximum capacity.

When asked why, she would simply shrug and playfully say that it's easier to keep people away from her. (Five thinks she just liked internalising the songs she listened to... just like his brother, Klaus, much to his dismay)

Regardless of her quite near deafness, she still liked using earphones whenever she felt like it. Several people had already tried to rid her bad habit by giving her speakers on some occasions but she insisted on using earphones whenever she listened to music. Much louder that way, she would often say.

And so, it wasn't a surprise for him to hear faint harmonies of trumpets and cellos as he rounded up the corner of her family's mansion, finding himself witnessing what seemed to be a private moment for her.

Now, having grown up under the tutelage of one Reginald Hargreeves- the most stubborn and strict father in the entire universe and maybe even in some parallel and alternate realities too- Five never had the luxury of appreciating the mundane things people speak of.

It was always training, enhancing his abilities and missions for him.

And then, there's that apocalypse mishap.

In the end, he couldn't understand what 'mundane' meant.

...until now.

There, in the middle of the kitchen she stood, looking as radiant as always- what with her hair thrown lazily in a low ponytail, her eyes still laced with remnants of sleep, and her clothes as ruffled as can be, dancing along to the music in her ears.

Looking at her now, he would've had a hard time telling that she had snuck out in the dead of the night, her inner demons getting the best of her and now here she was, dancing without a care in the world.

Why was he here anyway?

Oh yeah, he needed to speak with that brazen older brother of hers.

He needed to talk to Jack- he really, really needed to talk to her brother- however, for some reason it felt like his feet were glued on the spot, his eyes never leaving her figure as if he was entranced by a fae dancing by the morning light.

Just as he became in tuned with her presence, he knew that this girl had developed a keen sense of his whereabouts because the next thing he knew, he was being pulled towards her- where on earth did this unnecessary strength come from?- and tugged him into some weird poorly choreographed dance moves.

He knew that with her upbringing, she excelled in social dancing, the same way Reginald had painstakingly ingrained social dancing upon him and his siblings so why did it feel like she's been born with two left feet instead?

He had to admit, social dancing is something he has adequate skills in but dancing in general had never been his strong suit and yet, having been pulled into an impromptu dance party, he found himself not hating it.

It felt silly- him dancing to a faint and almost non-existent music in the middle of someone else's kitchen but seeing her smiling at him, mouthing the words to the song, and satisfied with him dancing along with her, made everything feel less silly.

He didn't know what prompted the feeling- was it her radiant smile? Or the way she closed her eyes as her face morphed into the appropriate emotion to the song she was mouthing to, or the stray melody that would leave her mouth unintentionally or maybe... just the way the situation all felt so raw- so candid to him.

He just felt the need- the overpowering emotion taking over his system. It's not like she's gonna hear the words, right? Afterall, she's as deaf as she could be.

"I love you,"

There was a sharp intake of breath- one that never came from him but rather from the girl in front of him, her feet skidded slightly from the miscalculated momentum from the sudden halting of her movements, her mouth slightly agape while he scrambled to catch her should she fall.

He couldn't have gotten a better timing, as soon as the words left his lips, the faint music he had been hearing disappeared all of the sudden- a sign that her performance had come to an end.

Grimacing, he let out a residual laugh- one that could be mistaken from his stolen breath. "-r shirt. Is it new?" he added hastily though they both knew it was too late, stumbling on the words and he wasn't quick enough to salvage his embarrassment.

Silence engulfed them as she reached out, closing her phone and effectively putting the playlist into pause, tilting her head at him with a smirk playing upon her lips.

"I never thought I'd see the day where dear little Five Hargreeves complimenting my shirt," she drawled slowly, eyes sweeping over him. "Seriously?"

She's giving him an out- another chance to compose himself and deny what had been uttered in a moment's weakness.

"I love you," the words came out slow as if he was readying himself to whatever cover he would be spitting out. "For not stomping on my feet like a savage person." he tried taking on a slightly chiding tone, hoping this time, it would be believable than the first one.

Pathetic, he wanted to scoff. He's been saying this phrase for what? Five times now and yet, this girl couldn't even take a hint. Honestly, is it that hard to believe?

Or maybe he's not trying hard enough?

She simply stared at him- her eyes seemingly searching for answers, baring his soul easily despite the walls he had built around him.

She let out a laugh. "Gosh, you're hopeless," she stated, reaching for the extra mug she had prepared. "Jack's waiting for you in the backyard." she waved at him, pointing him to where her brother is.

As he took his leave, he couldn't help but feel a slight pang of remorse. I love you, he wanted to repeat. I love you so much.

#the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy fanfiction #the umbrella academy imagines #tua fanfiction #tua fanfic #number five #number five hargreeves #number five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves #number five x reader

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shelvedsaints · 3 years

Photo

ABOUT TARYN || A crimson headache, an aching blush━ you’ll surrender to the touch and you’ll know.

CHARACTER BASICS

NAME: Taryn Aldous Lynch

AGE: Twenty-Six

GENDER & PRONOUNS: Cis-female, She/Her

FACE CLAIM: Sophie Cookson

EYE COLOR: Blue

HAIR COLOR: Brown

HEIGHT: 5′8″

DATE OF BIRTH: December 28th

ZODIAC SIGN: Aries

LEVEL OF EDUCATION: Bachelor’s in Finance & Art with a Minor in Accounting, Business, and Marketing

RELIGIOUS AFFILIATION: N/A

OCCUPATION: Tattoo Artist and Owner of Salt & Ink, Drug Dealer

HOMETOWN: Key West, FL

NEIGHBORHOOD: Newtown

CHARACTER HISTORY [TW: DRUGS]

The Lynch Family has been in the pharmaceutical business for generations but it wasn’t until Kristoff Lynch took charge that the business became less than legitimate. BetterCorp of Salem, Maine was the front to a business dealing drugs illegally, and with major success.

This lead to a life of ease for Taryn and her sister, Taylor. The girls attended private school until their graduation, and had even been accepted to other prestigious colleges for their postsecondary education.

Their father was very concerned about having a legacy, and therefore after his first born son from a previous marriage being less than adequate and not entirely stable, he pressured his wife into having more children. However, he knew that the wait between having another child came from the trauma of their first son’s upbringing and that she felt inadequate as a mother.

He took care of the twins their first two years of life, stressing the importance of balance, math, and science from a young age. He was always very reserved, but did take the twins surfing quite often even if he had to yell at them to stop complaining about the cold. He wanted his children resilient and ruthless, and he would mold them as such.

If you ever asked Taryn to draw her mother, a glass of wine and golden bangles would surely be included. Her mother didn’t drink much, but she always used hid behind a glass of wine to ease herself even though she sipped on it for hours. She was beautiful and cunning, a terrible cook but full of effort, and just as much of a snake in her husband’s ears as she collected secrets from others at parties as she was a trophy on his side.

However, she wasn’t a great mother. She was pressured by her husband to have another child for his legacy, and after the twins were born, she developed postpartum depression. She did not want to hold them, touch them, barely even feed them herself. The twins, in fact, spent more time with their father their first two years of life. Taylor needed her mother and easily won her favor while Taryn never truly developed a relationship with her as she was independent from a young age. It was easy to see that Taylor was her favorite.

Taylor, in particular, had been more inclined to join their father’s business than Taryn. But alas, Taryn and her sister have always been inseparable and she has always been her sister’s keeper. Taylor was always the more outspoken of the twins, but it was her mouth that got her into just as much trouble as it did success. She had just as many enemies as she has had friends. Taryn spent most of her life not in her shadow, but BEING it in order to protect her from not only others, but from herself. Even if enemies came with the territory of dealing drugs, Taylor was testing her limits since the day she was born.

The girls were cut off from their parents fortune and told that they had to earn their way back into the will. When the girls attended a private college, the only thing that would be paid for them, the struggled slightly to acclimate to being in charge of their own fortunes. Taryn transitioned better than Taylor. Taylor immediately turned to selling drugs to get more money to satisfy her heavy spending habits. Taryn followed suit to keep an eye on her and they found that they were quite good at it. The girls then agreed to drop out to attend a local college and used the leftover money from their expensive tuitions to buy a building where they would launder the money.

They returned to their hometown, not far from their former school so they kept their clientele, and worked directly for their father and BetterCorp.

Taylor at first began dealing marijuana and shrooms in an attempt to show her father she knew the business well and was careful, and eventually upgraded to higher drugs. At first she threatened to go on her own, but his father eventually gave in.

Taryn, on the other hand, wasn’t too keen on the idea but involved herself solely to keep an eye on her sister. While Taylor was eager and excited to make enemies just as much as friends, Taron was reserved and skeptical of everyone. Taryn eventually combed through her sister’s methods to perfect it and gain their father’s trust together.

Like many identical twins, the Lynch girls had more differences than similarities. Taylor’s first impression was usually that she was a force to be reckoned with, fully aware of her influence and the taste it left in someone’s mouth. She thrived in a social setting and looked for friends with the same intention she did as looking for enemies. Taryn, on the other hand, was always reserved and lived as her shadow in order to protect her from her own antics and their consequences. However, Taryn never really minded. He had his own troubles that Taylor had to take into his own hands to make up for it. If the twins were trouble on their own, they had a whole different breed of power together. From their own hybrid of sign language to similar traumas, they were a force of nature.

PRESENT DAY [TW: DRUGS, CAR ACCIDENT]

Two years ago, business took a south turn. In an attack against competitors, a few dealers were killed. The crime rolled over into a major case. It was revealed that it was done in a retaliation against the movement of the company into the hands of the twins. In order to ease the strife, and avoid further scandal, Kristoff sent the girls down the coast but after Taryn suspected more strife, she made a more permanent move down the coast.

In the Keys, she bought the local tattoo shop on Duval Street and cleaned up its reputation. She put her few years of tattoo apprenticeship, her hobby, into use and eventually the store became a front for the drug dealer she failed to turn away from. She had kept a secret since she knew better than to get into the very business that had driven not only a wedge between the life they knew, but had gotten them into trouble. It didn’t last long though, even more so when it came to secrets against her sister, and eventually the Lynch twins were reunited.

While Taryn seems much quieter than her sister, she reserves her outbursts for different forms of aggravation. Most girls tend to internalize it, but she unleashes it in illegal underground fighting that leaves her tainted in black and blue more often than not, but also winnings that add to more finances she has to cover up. It is suspected that he was never the same after their brother’s girlfriend perrished in a car accident that seemed rigged by the enemies of BetterCorp, a hit meant to take out the next generation of the heads of the company. It was a hit that would have been more useful against the twins, and Taryn holds some guilt because of it. The crash took his girlfriend’s life, and scarred Taryn in the explosion as she had sent him off. She has some of the scars tattooed over but it is the primary detail that sets the girls apart from the tattoos.

HEAD CANONS

In elementary school, Taylor was diagnosed with Intermittent Explosive Disorder (IED) which is a behavioral disorder. It took some time for Taryn to be diagnosed with it as it presented itself differently in both girls. While Taylor was constantly snapping and raising her voice as well as getting into physical altercations with his own friends, Taron seemed to solely take it out on his brother and it was easily written off as retaliation for many years.

They dabbled in drug dealing in high school and used their different positions in their social settings to do it. They dealt schedule III drugs as well as coke. Taryn had the private school social scene, while Taylor reigned the public school setting.

As for their disorder, the girls loved each other very much but they were each other’s weakness. One small comment set the other off, one on the floor in a choke hold and the other slamming them against the nearest piece of furniture. For Taryn in particular, she bottled up her feelings and her outbursts resulted in episodes so extreme that it became Taylor’s job to hold her sister back. Taron would go into full on fits and Taylor had taken responsibility of protecting her even from herself. Eventually the violence that satisfied this rage was fed into by illegal fighting.

Taylor’s vices, though, took a different form. When they began dealing, she started digging into their own supply. Taryn had been the one to revive her from an accidental overdose.

Due to another altercation in their youth, Taryn lost most of the hearing in her left ear. This was Taylor’s fault as in one fight she punched Taryn’s ear hard enough to shatter the small bones. Taron got her back, though, and ended up breaking Taylor’s wrist to the point that she needed surgery for the scaphoid fracture.

The older Lynch brother was never fit for BetterCorp and therefore the twins, youngest and girls, were viewed as the heirs but treated as henchmen for the company first and foremost. However, it didn’t mean that he was forgotten by the girls. They each take care of him and keep an eye on him and his erratic schedule, and always have even when they were encouraged to keep him at arm’s length. There is something off, but with their own poor self management skills, they have yet to identify what.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

Clients (Salt & Ink and Dealing)

Co-workers

Sparring partners

Those who bet on her in underground fighting

#sevenmiles.intro #taryn.intro #sevenmiles.inro

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mithrilwren · 4 years

Text

Carillon

For @essek-week day 6: tower/possibilities. This was a VERY last minute fill, and it was an absolute miracle I got it done before the clock struck midnight, but woohoo, here we are! It’s mostly for ‘tower’, but I think it has shades of ‘possibilities’ as well.

[Also on Ao3!]

“I really do appreciate that you were willing to come all this way.”

“Yes, well,” Essek said, inclining his head slightly. “It isn’t so far to travel for people such as us, is it?”

The blonde-haired woman smiled serenely. Lady Allura Vysoren, member of the Arcana Pansophical, senior member of the Council of Tal’Dorei, a talented and accomplished wizard - all facts he’d committed carefully to memory the night before, after a series of hasty messages to his more worldly contacts. She ushered him from the teleportation circle through an oaken door, into a hallway of fine wooden supports and demure beige paint. “Have you been to Tal’Dorei before, Essek?”

“No, I’m afraid I haven’t. My duties rarely take me outside my home country.” He gazed up at the high ceiling, wondering vaguely which government building she’d transported them to. He knew they were bound for Emon, but he hadn’t had time to collect any information about the layout of the city before Allura arrived to collect him.

“That’s a shame. I do love to travel, when I can.” Her pleasant niceties, far from putting Essek at ease, only amplified his confusion as to why he was chosen for this assignment. The role of ‘Shadowhand’ was exactly as unobtrusive as the name implied - he was no diplomat. His work was best done through intermediaries, if any social interaction was required at all.

His work with the Mighty Nein was an aberration, but not wholly outside his purview: to gather information about illicit dealings within the Dynasty was quite within his usual set of duties, even if the method was… unusual. But he could not fathom why the Bright Queen would select him to play the role of ambassador, unless his seeming success with the Nein convinced her that he had some special pull with humans that other drow lacked.

Yet again, he found himself teetering on the knife’s edge of civility, trying to maintain his balance in an arena he did not understand. If he had little experience playing the host, he had less being the hosted, and he grasped one hand by the other in a vice grip behind his back as he floated after Allura, following her into a little parlor off the main corridor. She gestured to a chair, and he felt at once foolish to have taken the effort to resume his levitation spell, only to be forced to descend within a minute in order to sit.

“Please, make yourself comfortable,” Allura said as she walked to a little table and began pouring cups of tea from a delicate porcelain pot. Beside her, there was a glass door, partially ajar and seemingly leading to a balcony, but Essek could not see past the railing to guess any more about their location. Instead, Essek sank back into the armchair - plush, and upholstered with warm auburn velvetine that complemented the other splashes of autumnal colour within the room - and watched the light breeze from the balcony ripple within the blue folds of Allura’s dress as she finished pouring.

A receiving chamber, perhaps, for foreign officials? It seemed pleasant enough for it, though nowhere near as grand as the Bright Queen’s throne room. Every so often a shout or cheer drifted up from the street below, also very unlike the reverent silence that he knew so well. Perhaps those things mattered less for a government ruled by a collection of individuals, rather than a sovereign. He had no frame of reference to compare it against.

After handing him a cup, Allura sank into an armchair across from him and took a small sip, just enough to wet her lips, before speaking again. “I hope it’s alright. I tend to drink a lot of tea in the afternoon, but if you prefer something else, I’m sure I can muster it up.”

“This is fine,” he said, and took a sip to prove it. And it was - a pleasant, earthy aroma, subtled by a splash of cream and what he assumed must be sugar. He’d never met anyone besides Jester who preferred sweetness in herbal drinks (or any drinks, in her case), but he had to admit that the flavours melded well. “But- you’ll forgive me, but I wasn’t given much information on the nature of this meeting. What was it you wanted to discuss?”

Matters of politics he had at least a good understanding of, a better one than how to act friendly and convince others to enjoy your company, and Essek was eager to shift to more familiar ground as soon as possible. While he doubted his social graces could net Allura’s esteem, at least he might be able to engage her mind in discussion, and then perhaps the worst of his awkwardness could be overlooked.

And, for the most part, he believed he succeeded, in the ways that mattered. It turned out the Council of Tal’Dorei had simply wanted a check-in with the Dynasty after Allura’s involvement in the peace talks - a move which he now gathered was only loosely sanctioned by the council itself, though she had seemed quite confident when she arrived before the Bright Queen’s court all those months ago. She meant to shore up relations, and ensure that open communication would continue between their governments.

He agreed to what he could, proposed options for further engagements, and all in all, performed adequately in his function, but hadn’t quite shaken the feeling he was missing some important detail in all of this - something that might explain why he, of all people, was the one taking part in this conversation. Allura was clearly a skilled diplomat, in addition to her arcane prowess. She projected an air of competence, tempered by a warm, inviting demeanor, but he did not doubt that her demeanor would change were they in her personal tower, rather than within the public eye. Wizards were not known for their hospitality, after all, and the ones he’d met outside himself always guarded their isolation jealously, quick to drop all illusions of civility once they were within a domain of their control.

“Lady Allura,” he asked as she got up to refill their cups, unable to contain the pressing question any longer. “I’ve enjoyed our conversation today, and I think we’ve made good progress. But… if there is any skillset that I particularly may provide, please, do not hesitate to ask.” There. A way of proposing the question without betraying his own ignorance. The best he could do without surrendering ground in their back and forth. This was, after a negotiation, even if he couldn’t sense the parameters yet. One wizard did not call on another unless they desired something that the other could provide. Even Caleb primarily turned to Essek for help with spells or magic beyond his level, and they were friends - at least, they were.

(He pushed down any thoughts of dinner parties, or good conversation over wine, as the fancies of the past that they were. It was a bitter hope, to believe that there was a different sort of relationship they could have had, one not based on favours and needs. It did not serve him to dwell on it, when his own hand was what quashed that hope for good.)

Allura smiled, setting down the pot on the table. “Nothing of the sort. Truth be told, I actually asked for you personally.” Essek’s eyebrow raised.

“Really.” Though she made no threat, his hand itched towards his wrist, where his components were hidden. Weeks of warnings from Caleb and others in the Nein that an assassination attempt by the Cerberus Assembly might be coming, now that he had outlived his usefulness, had set him on edge. The thought of a powerful wizard with connections both in the Dynasty and the Empire asking to see him personally, and alone? It was worth every bit of caution in the world.

“You sound surprised.”

“Diplomacy is not my accustomed role.”

“Nor is peacemaking mine, but we find ourselves in strange times.” Allura turned away, looking towards the window and the afternoon sky. “I confess, I still don’t understand the whole of the conflict on Wildemount’s shores. There are shades of grey to every war, and I don’t trust myself to recognize them with an outsider’s perspective. Which is why I asked the Mighty Nein who they would trust to speak to me honestly, and fairly.” She turned back to Essek. “They named you.”

A jolt went through Essek. “When?” he asked, shocked to hear the state of his own voice, strained as it was.

They’d barely spoken in the weeks since the end of the peace talks, other than the warnings about Ikithon and Jester’s occasional messages at inconvenient hours. He’d assumed any ties of trust he’d had with the Nein had been irrevocably broken. Despite any protestations in the Balleater’s hold, he had a hard time believing that No- Veth, or Beau, or even Fjord would count him as someone to be recommended. And yet-

“A few nights ago, when I asked them. I’m glad you were available on such short notice.”

“I as well,” he answered faintly.

And yet-

“Oh no.”

Essek’s head whipped up at Allura’s sudden change in tone to something akin to horror.

“Is something the matter?”

He stood quickly and floated over to her, scanning the room for any sign of an intruder or threat, but instead he found her staring at a timepiece on the mantle, her eyes tracking the short hand with increasing distress.

“She’s going to kill me.”

“Who?” Essek insisted, but she was already striding away from him towards the door.

“How would you feel about a quick tour of the city?” Allura asked, her smile gone from welcoming to hurriedly apologetic in an instant.

“...Alright.” Strange, but he couldn’t sense an immediate threat. He followed her out the door and into the same hallway, which soon led to a winding spiral staircase leading downwards into a depth of stone.

“I’m very sorry for the abruptness,” she explained as she walked, “but I promised I would pick something up for someone, and I lost track of time. I’d like to send you off properly, but I also- I really did promise.”

“It’s alright,” he said. “I’m in no rush.” If anything, he was curious to see a bit more of Emon than whatever government building they were in - though, he thought as they continued to descend, it was a strange construction for one. If anything, the layout of the staircase reminded him more of a-

In what seemed like an instant, they were outside, and Essek’s suspicions were immediately proved unfounded. The moment they stepped out onto the street, they were surrounded by bustle - crowded houses, children playing in the street, dogs begging scraps from a food stall down the way. No wizard’s tower would be built so close to the rest of society. They were built for privacy, secluded and elevated above the world. His own house was a half-formed imitation of what he had someday hoped to achieve for himself: gated and lofty, and lonesome.

He didn’t have time to reflect further, or even glance back, lest he lose Allura in the crowd as she hurried away at a breakneck speed.

In the end, he caught up to her on the outskirts of a market, where sellers were just beginning to put away their wares for the coming evening. Essek found Allura at one particular stall, clutching a package of something smelling distinctly briny and looking triumphant.

“Lionfish,” she explained. “They only sell it one day a week, because it’s so hard to keep fresh on its journey from the coast. It’s also my wife’s favourite dish. I would not have heard the end of it, if I’d forgotten.”

“Your wife?” Essek asked, his understanding of Allura shifting in great bounds, like so many shifting cogs whirring into a new configuration. Had he ever met a wizard who was in a partnership, let alone married? It had always seemed to him that a relationship of that kind could only take time away from his work: an unsound investment. Or at least that was a convincing argument, on the days that the loneliness felt like it would suffocate him from within. He almost wanted to ask how she managed it, ambition and love both, but held his tongue.

“Kima,” Allura provided. “She’ll probably be home by the time we make it back. Maybe you’ll meet her.”

“I’d like that,” said Essek, and found he meant it, which was the most surprising thing of all.

Now that they weren’t in a rush, he was able to get more of a lay of the land. The city was a strange arrangement of highs and lows. It seemed that they were in the high portion, with many houses spread out on the plain below.

“This is the Cloudtop District,” Allura explained as they walked. Essek had decided to forgo his usual hovering, as his drow appearance was already garnering enough stares from passersby. “It used to be home to the most wealthy citizens of the city, but nowadays there’s a mix of all sorts here.”

“What changed?”

“A horde of dragons razed the city to the ground.” Allura shrugged. “The social divide seemed rather immaterial to most people after that.” She pointed forward at one singular spire, rising above the rest of the mostly one-or-two level dwellings. “Luckily, there was enough space left for me to rebuild the Ivory Tower, and the city’s come up around it.”

Essek stared. It was certainly the direction they had come from, and that they were now headed to.

So it was her tower then, that they had been in. Her tower, that she called ‘home’, that she used to entertain guests, and shared with her wife, and occasionally left to buy fish from a market three streets down.

“Does it ever feel... crowded?” Essek asked, his own skin already crawling at the proximity of the strangers around him.

“Sometimes,” Allura admitted. “But I like being able to say hello to my neighbours. I hid my nose in books for so much of my life that it’s a welcome change, for it to be as easy to meet new people as to walk outside my door. It takes some of the work out of it for me.”

That was… not a way that Essek had considered the problem before. He had wondered when he was younger why so many of his peers fell into relationships - platonic or otherwise - without any seeming effort, while he could not fathom how to make a single friend. But he had been separate from the start - isolated because of his mother’s position, and his own talent. Were relationships truly as simple as being in the right vicinity to stumble into them?

He pondered that thought all the rest of the way back to the tower, and up an unfamiliar staircase. “I just want to stick this in the icebox,” Allura explained, “and then I promise, I’ll see you home properly.” He followed her through a new door and into a little kitchen with an adjoining dining room, separated by a half-wall and banister.

The kitchen itself was fascinating. He got the sense of Allura as an organized individual, but most of the space was pure chaos. Mismatched mugs were haphazardly piled on top of bags of produce and sharp knives were stacked, uncovered, by the sink. Allura’s nose visibly wrinkled as she moved aside a few unopened boxes with her foot in order to open the icebox and shove the package inside.

“Who’s this?”

The new voice caught Essek off guard and he whirled, only to find the air empty at his eye level. He looked down, and found a halfling woman in improbably large plate armor staring up brazenly at him.

“Essek Thelyss,” Allura supplied from behind him, standing up and dusting her hands off on her skirt. “A guest of mine, from Wildemount.”

The woman didn’t extend her hand, but she gave Essek a good once-over before nodding, apparently satisfied by his look that he wasn’t a threat. He tried not to take it as a snub as the woman shouldered past him to get to Allura.

“Did you remember to get the lionfish?”

“Of course, darling,” Allura said, glancing over the woman’s head at Essek with a look that clearly read I told you so. “I wouldn’t have forgotten.”

Kima, then, and the swift kiss she planted on the back of Allura’s palm confirmed it. “Great, I’ll get started then. Go finish up with your friend, dinner’s in forty.” With that, she was off, pulling pots and pans out with reckless abandon, and utterly unconcerned with either of their presences. It was clear now to Essek that this place was Kima’s, which explained the incongruity with Allura’s neat parlor.

He thought of his own house, where half the rooms were empty for lack of things to fill them with. He had always wanted to live alone, had never questioned the idea that he would hate to share any part of his home with someone else.

And yet-

He could understand the appeal now, of sharing a space. Of seeing another person’s marks left over the places they frequent - the dishes in the sink, the paintings on the wall - or to be greeted by a kiss on the doorstep, from someone listening for your footsteps eagerly. It wasn’t a possibility for him, but he thought... he could see it. Why someone would want that.

Allura sent him back to Rosohna with a promise of future visits and cups of tea to come. By the time he arrived back at his house, it was nearly time to rest, but he headed to his laboratory, intending to check on one of his experiments before closing his eyes for the night.

The walkways between the different segments of his home were dark, as always, but they gave a good view of the streets stretching beyond his own empty one. From here, he could clearly see the light of Caduceus’s tree, the one beacon in the darkness that surrounded them all, guarding a house too small for seven occupants, but somehow functional, with enough space for all.

During the day, neighbouring drow still flocked like moths to the flame, walking by the house and trying to catch a glimpse of the strange goings-on inside. He’d never understood the purpose of the tree, when all it did was draw unnecessary attention to the group. He started to wonder now, if that was the goal all along.

His spire was not a tower, but it was removed, just the same. Meticulously organized, just as he liked it to be, but there were still traces of clay he hadn’t managed to scrub from the floorboards. Essek stood on the threshold and saw scattered images of the past: of Nott laying on the floor, of Caleb at the desk, of Jester hounding him for snacks from down the hall.

They flickered out, one by one, leaving only Caleb, trapped in a scene not from his memory, but from his mind all the same. He watched Caleb stand from the desk and move to the table, beckoning Essek forward.

“Did you find it?” the shadow Caleb asked, and Essek nodded, heart caught in his throat as he handed over the requested scroll. “Good. Then we can finish tonight.” Caleb leaned over and gave Essek a peck on the cheek, and his lips felt of fog, immaterial and crushing at the same time.

Then he blinked, and it was all gone. Caleb was nothing more than a memory again, and the only proof of his one-time presence were the stains of reddish dirt across the floor.

He stumbled off to his room, feeling unsettled, and deeply tired, with question after question flitting through his mind.

How far would his tower have to climb, so that he couldn’t see the light of that accursed tree from his window?

How long can he pretend that he wouldn’t rather be under that roof tonight, instead of his own?

#critical role #essek week #essek thelyss #allura vysoren #shadowgast #(though only implied/possibly unrequited)#my writing

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