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artificial-transmutations · 1 month

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Historically Accurate

"I'm telling you, Hollywood is going down with all the woke crap! You know what they say: Go woke go broke!"

Julian and Wallace were on their way back from the lunch room and the former was listening to the latter complaining. Julian had tried to avoid any topic like this, but, really, it was a mine field with Wallace. Just about *every* topic had the potential to turn out political.

"I don't see what's wrong with a little inclusion in pop culture." Julian said, not wanting to argue but also not wanting to leave that opinion unopposed.

"Everything! It's just plain wrong, and it's brainwash, too. I mean, it's like a mind virus, poisoning everything! There's a western coming out next week. But it's all bullshit woke agenda again. The cowboy is black and gay! Literal brainwash and historical rewrite."

Julian frowned. How could an intelligent person like Wallace be so stupid at the same time?

"Why does that even bother you? I thought you hated westerns."

"Yes, that's not the point. Fact is, it's historically inaccurate and just pushing the woke agenda."

"Actually, I think it's not even historically incorrect." Julian pondered as they entered the lab using Julian's keycard and an iris scan of both scientists.

Wallace was borderline angry now.

"What are you talking about? Everyone knows that cowboys were the whitest and the straightest people there were."

"I'm not quite sure", Julian said. "Weren't there freed slaves and so on? And I would guess if you were underway with another guy for prolonged periods of time, not everything staid straight, too."

"Bullshit! Everyone knows cowboys weren't fags, and they were white."

Wallace seemed agitated now, and his usual stiff demeanor became even more pronounced.

Wallace was in his mid-forties, but the way he was talking, he seemed way older to Julian.

Julian on the other hand was awfully young for the position he had. Being 25, he still didn't look like he had finished college, even though he had his doctorate already.

It was really a bit sad, he thought. Two of the brightest minds and they were bickering over basic, meaningless distinctions like ethnicity or sexual orientation.

"We could just ask the computer." he proposed, but Wallace frowned.

"We are not supposed to use the equipment for private research." he said.

'The computer' was part of the highly secretive project they worked on. When finished, it was supposed to be a time machine, simple as that. The actual time travel device didn't work properly yet, but a part of it, a chronoton boosted quantum computer that was able to access history itself to answer questions about the part, was already functioning quite well.

"But we are supposed to test it from time to time. Are you afraid of the answer it might give?"

"Of course not." Wallace grumbled. "Fine. Computer! Is there any historical evidence of gay black cowboys?"

The voice activated system acknowledged the request with a beep. While waiting for the answer, Julian checked the parameters of the system and found them in near-perfect condition.

Finally, the system answered, with the neutral male voice it was programmed with.

"A significant portion of cowboys consisted of people with African heritage, especially after the freeing of slaves after the civil war. Homosexual acts and attraction were common among cowboys, especially during the trail drives. Demonstrating..."

"Hrmpf." Wallace said, clearly not happy.

Julian, who was still checking the readings, scratched his head.

"Did you remember to disconnect the capsule before making the query? It seems to be drawing power."

"Ah, crap. That's just because of all the bullshit talk. Computer, stop!"

"Unable to comply. Demonstrating... Target: Montana Frontier Area, June 1865..."

The white walls of the chamber started to glow in an ever brighter white that was beginning to hurt the eyes.

"Crap. Julian, cut the power!" Wallace said, now with a clear notion of fear in his voice. The younger scientist didn't answer but tried to do as he was told - but did not succeed in time.

Suddenly, with a flash, their surroundings changed and the two of them found themselves in the middle of a rugged mountain range, on the border of a pine forest. It was late afternoon and the scientists found themselves in a just set-up camp. Two horses were standing nearby, and a small herd of cows was grazing at a meadow.

Wallace sighed and shook his head angrily. "Just great. Look at the mess you just put us in. Now we have to wait until we're rescued. And, apparently, we have to meet some black homo cowboys."

Julian looked around but couldn't see anyone around.

"I would have also guessed so, but there doesn't seem to be anyone there."

His heart sank as he had a terrible suspicion. He had been experimenting lately with a normalization circuit that would embed the time travelers into history instead of superimposing them onto it. That was - according to his theories - a rather elegant way to resolve the repelling effect the historical structure had, but it wasn't finished by any means. It had never been tested and even theoretically, it wouldn't be able to achieve a partial embedding, only a full one at best. And the more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that it had still been connected to the system.

As Julian thought about how to break it to Wallace, he noticed something strange about the other scientist. It could be a trick of the light, but he looked way more tanned than before.

"Uhm... It might actually be somewhat worse than that. I think my normalization circuit was still active when you activated the machine."

"What? What does that mean?" Wallace looked at him, furiously now.

"Well, I would guess..." Julian struggled and gave up. "Look at your hands, I think it's pretty self-explanatory."

Wallace looked down at his darkening hands and paled. Even now, he still had a considerably darker skin tone than before, darkening with every passing second.

"Shit." he said. "That's what you get for fucking around with a half-finished experiment."

Julian didn't even dare to mention his suspicion. If his normalization circuit was really active, that would make Wallace an actual, black cowboy, and not just him. Julian was also a time traveler, so he, too, would be affected.

Meanwhile, the changes in Wallace seemed to have proceeded. His facial structure looked like it was in motion before finally settling on a generally broader, manlier shape: The jawline became more pronounced, and his cheekbones raised.

"Is there... anything going on with me as well?" Julian asked.

Wallace looked over at him.

"Yeah, your hair color is changing, and I think your eye color. Blonde and blue-eyed, how cliché. But most importantly, you're not becoming fucking a fucking Black man."

Wallace didn't say Black man.

For some reason, this didn't bother Julian half as much as it should have. He felt rather at ease, and the untamed wilderness around him awakened a sense of adventure inside of him that he didn't know was in him.

Meanwhile Wallace was also feeling a change within. A surge of confidence emerged from within him that was entirely alien to the deeply insecure man at first, but quickly became more and more part of his personality. It was like his core was solidifying into a confident and assertive nature, a boldness and quiet he secretly always wished he had. At the same time, his body structure changed considerably.

Where before, Wallace had been a physically unimpressive mid-forties man, it now seemed like the years melted off of him, and for every year that he lost, he gained three pounds of muscle mass and beef. His shoulders widened, his height increased, and his frame expanded in order to accommodate the new body mass.

"It's not that bad, ain't it?" While Julian's body had not changed much besides the hair and eye color, his voice sounded entirely different now. It had a southern lilt to it, but it was charismatic and charming. It was the kind of voice you could listen to for hours without end, perfect for reading an audiobook - or telling campfire stories.

"Well now, I ain't too sure 'bout that." Wallace's voice had changed even more considerably when he answered. He had gained a thick southern accent, and his voice had dropped to a low and smooth voice that sounded commanding even if he didn't intend to.

"Ha, look at that, your skin's startin' to change now, too!"

And really, Julian's skin had started to adapt as well, but it was quickly becoming apparent that it went a different route than Wallace's. Instead of darkening to the almost black tone that he was sporting, Julian's skin became rougher and got a sun-kissed tan instead. His facial features sharpened, as his cheekbones looked chiseled all of a sudden and a rugged beard texture was adorning his chin. Julian seemed to notice it, too, since he started touching his new face immediately.

"Cool! Always wondered what I'd look like sportin' a beard." he said, apparently not too unhappy with the changes.

There was no denying Julian looked good, which made Wallace feel a touch of jealousy. In his opinion, it wasn't fair that he was the only one having to deal with the black skin. That feeling quickly faded, though, as his changes continued. His hair became very short, curly and dark. At the same time, a short beard formed on his chin and upper lip, giving him an even manlier appeal. At the same time, chest hair sprouted, sparsely of course, as it was normal for a man of his heritage. A strange feeling overcame Wallace. He wasn't necessarily *proud* to be Black now, but he also didn't mind it anymore. He was proud of a lot of secondary assets, though, like his bulging muscles or his handsome face. As his eyes became a dark brown, he had to smirk as he sat down by the fire, readjusting himself in the process. And, of course, his big cock, which might also have been positively influenced by his new ancestry.

Wallace watched as Julian turned around and tended to the horses. His body was now, finally, also changing. It didn't become nearly as bulky as his own, but instead lean and agile, with narrow hips and a well-distributed surprising strength, as Wallace knew. While Julian was busy with the horses, Wallace had a good view of his ass. It filled out the jeans just so well, and Vallace only noticed now that the other man's attire had changed. He was clad in a pair of blue jeans, a vest and, of course a Stetson now, and Vance always thought that this outfit accentuated the best parts of his partner quite well. He preferred black leather, himself, since the material was sturdier and felt better on the skin.

Vince felt his cock hardening in his leather pants and readjusted himself again while also leaning back and spreading his legs to make more room for the erection. He wasn't afraid of anyone seeing his rude behavior. The only other man within a wide range was Jesse, the owner of that juicy ass. And he was allowed to see... well, everything.

Vince waited patiently until Jesse returned to the campfire, with a big smile on his face.

"How them horses holdin' up, partner?" Vince asked.

"They're good. Just a tad worn out from today's ride." Jesse answered.

"Well, there's somethin' else needs tendin' to, if you're free to lend a hand. Or an ass." Vince grinned and made his cock throb in the confines of his tight leather pants.

Jesse grinned at the display of masculinity and massaged his own cock.

"Hell yes!"

As Jesse moved over in his usual graceful movements, Vince leaned back. There really wasn't anything better than being a big, black cowboy. Especially not with a partner like Jesse, who was always happy to make the nights in the wilderness a little less lonely.

Certainly not poor and lonesome! Also check out this awesome writer!

There are a few more versions of Jesse and Vince, over at my tip jar.

#male transformation #straight to gay #muscle transformation #racial transformation #cowboy #historical transformation

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imaginesforfandom · 4 months

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A Wolverine's Heartache - Part III

Part I Part II

i'm so sorry it took so long for me to post this!! i've been drowning in work :,(

Logan/James Howlett x Reader

She/Her pronouns used!!

Summary: Logan struggles after seeing a person he loves alive. Will he be able to save her?

In the moments leading up to Logan's journey back in time, the Xavier Institute was a hub of frantic activity, a beacon of hope in the face of impending doom. The threat of the Sentinels loomed large, casting a shadow of fear and uncertainty over the mutant community.

Logan, haunted by the memory of Y/N's tragic death and driven by a desperate need to prevent further loss, had become the linchpin in a daring plan to alter the course of history. With the help of Professor Xavier and a handful of trusted allies, Logan prepared to embark on a mission that would defy the very fabric of time itself.

The decision to send Logan back in time was not made lightly. It required sacrifices – sacrifices that weighed heavily on the hearts of those left behind. Yet, in the face of imminent destruction, there was no room for hesitation.

As Logan stood before the makeshift time-travel device, his resolve hardened like steel. The weight of his mission bore down on him, a burden he carried with grim determination. He knew the risks – the possibility of altering the timeline, of facing enemies both old and new – but the chance to rewrite history and save those he loved was a gamble he was willing to take.

Before he could second-guess himself, Logan braced himself for the journey ahead. With a final glance at his comrades, a silent promise etched in his eyes, he stepped into the swirling vortex of energy, disappearing into the unknown depths of the past.

In that pivotal moment, the fate of the world hung in the balance. For Logan, it was a journey fraught with peril and uncertainty, but it was also a journey fueled by hope – hope for redemption, for a chance to right the wrongs of the past, and for a future where Y/N's death would be nothing more than a distant memory.

As Logan's consciousness shifted through time, propelled back to a pivotal moment before the devastation wrought by the Sentinels, a sense of urgency gripped him like a vice. His mission was clear: to prevent the cataclysmic events that had led to Y/N's tragic demise.

Arriving in the past, Logan found himself in a world that was both familiar and yet subtly different. The Xavier Institute bustled with life, its halls alive with the laughter of students and the gentle hum of telepathic conversations. But for Logan, it was a world tinged with sorrow, a reminder of the losses he had endured.

As he navigated the bustling corridors, searching for allies to aid him in his quest, Logan's heart quickened at the thought of encountering Y/N. She existed in this timeline, vibrant and alive, yet unaware of the role she would play in shaping their shared destiny.

When Logan finally came face to face with Y/N, his breath caught in his throat. She was different here – a younger version of the person he had known, her features softened by innocence and untainted by the scars of war. And yet, there was an undeniable familiarity in her presence, a connection that transcended the boundaries of time.

As their eyes met, Logan felt a surge of emotions wash over him – longing, regret, and a fierce determination to protect her at all costs. In that fleeting moment, he saw echoes of the Y/N he had lost, a reminder of the bond they had shared across time and space.

But for Y/N, Logan was a stranger – a mysterious figure with haunted eyes and a sense of purpose that seemed to emanate from his very being. And yet, there was something in his gaze, a depth of emotion that stirred something within her – a feeling she couldn't quite place.

As Logan reached out to Y/N, his hand trembling with the weight of unspoken truths, he knew that convincing her to join him would be no easy task. But for Y/N, Logan's presence ignited a spark of curiosity, a whisper of destiny that beckoned her towards a future she could not yet fathom.

As Logan stood before the younger version of Y/N, his heart clenched with a mixture of emotions – longing, regret, and an urgent sense of purpose. He knew that convincing her of the impending danger would be no easy task, especially considering she had no recollection of their shared history.

Y/N regarded him with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion, her brows furrowed in confusion. "Who are you?" she demanded, her voice tinged with a hint of defiance.

Logan took a deep breath, steeling himself for the difficult task ahead. "I know this is hard to believe, but you need to listen to me. I'm from the future, and I've seen what happens if we don't act now."

Y/N's eyes widened in disbelief, a scoff escaping her lips. "From the future? That's impossible. Why should I trust you?"

Logan knew he had to choose his words carefully, to break through the wall of skepticism that surrounded her. "I know this is a lot to take in, but I've seen the devastation caused by the Sentinels. They've hunted us down, taken everything from us. If we don't stop them now, there won't be a future for any of us."

Y/N's expression softened slightly, but her hesitation remained palpable. "And why should I believe you? You could be anyone, spinning tales to manipulate me."

Logan's jaw tightened with frustration, but he forced himself to remain calm. He understood her skepticism – after all, he was asking her to believe in the impossible. "I understand your doubts, but you have to trust me. Lives are at stake here, including yours. We need to work together to stop this."

Y/N's gaze flickered with uncertainty, torn between disbelief and a nagging sense of curiosity. She wanted to dismiss Logan's words as the ramblings of a madman, but there was something in his eyes – a depth of sincerity that gave her pause.

As Logan pleaded with her to heed his warning, Y/N felt a surge of conflicting emotions wash over her – fear, anger, and a flicker of hope. In that moment of uncertainty, she grappled with the weight of the decision before her, knowing that the fate of the world rested in her hands – and in the hands of the enigmatic stranger who claimed to hold the key to their salvation.

The moment hung suspended in time, a fragile balance between doubt and determination. Y/N stood before Logan, her gaze locked with his, uncertainty etched into the lines of her face. Logan's plea echoed in the air, a whispered promise of redemption and salvation, and for a fleeting instant, Y/N hesitated.

But then, something shifted within her – a spark of resolve that ignited in the depths of her soul. It was a quiet realization, born from the depths of her own courage and fueled by the unwavering belief that together, they could make a difference.

With a steadying breath, Y/N met Logan's gaze, her voice steady despite the turmoil raging within her. "Alright. I'll help you."

The words hung in the air like a beacon of hope, a testament to the strength of her conviction. In that moment, a weight lifted from Logan's shoulders, replaced by a surge of gratitude and relief. He had expected resistance, perhaps even outright rejection, but Y/N's willingness to trust him filled him with a sense of purpose unlike anything he had ever known.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the tension reached its peak in the crowded conference room, Logan and Y/N moved with precision and determination, their eyes locked in silent communication. They had trained for this moment, prepared for the pivotal role they would play in altering the course of history.

Amidst the chaos, Mystique, disguised as a government official, made her move, her gun trained on Trask, the architect of the Sentinel program. But before she could pull the trigger, Logan sprang into action, his instincts honed by years of combat.

With a swift motion, he intercepted Mystique's shot, deflecting the bullet away from its intended target. The room erupted into chaos as panic spread like wildfire, but Logan remained focused, his gaze never wavering from Mystique's determined form.

Beside him, Y/N moved with a grace and precision that belied her years, her powers weaving through the air like a symphony of light and shadow. With a flick of her wrist, she immobilized Mystique, her telekinetic abilities holding her captive in a shimmering cocoon of energy.

As the dust settled and order was restored, Logan and Y/N shared a fleeting glance, a silent acknowledgment of the pivotal role they had played in preventing catastrophe. In that moment, the bond between them deepened, forged in the crucible of adversity.

But as they stood amidst the aftermath of their actions, a sense of uncertainty lingered in the air. The future remains uncertain, and the threat of the Sentinels still loomed large. Yet, for the first time in a long time, Logan allowed himself to feel a glimmer of hope – a hope that with Y/N by his side, they could face whatever challenges lay ahead, together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Logan's consciousness shifted back to the future, his senses reeled from the disorienting transition. The world around him was a blur of chaos and destruction, the aftermath of the battle against the Sentinels evident in the smoldering ruins that surrounded him. But amidst the devastation, one sight stood out like a beacon of light in the darkness.

There, among the ragged survivors, stood Y/N – her presence a ray of hope amidst the despair. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as Logan's gaze locked onto her familiar form, his heart swelling with a mixture of relief and gratitude.

Without hesitation, he moved towards her, his steps fueled by an overwhelming urge to reach her side. As he drew closer, their eyes met, and in that instant, a flood of emotions washed over him – longing, regret, and a fierce determination to protect her at all costs.

Unable to resist any longer, Logan closed the distance between them in a single stride, his arms enveloping Y/N in a tight embrace. It was a gesture born from the depths of his soul, a silent vow to never let her go again.

In that poignant moment, as Logan's arms enveloped Y/N in a tight embrace amidst the wreckage of their war-torn world, a whirlwind of emotions stirred within him, threatening to overwhelm his senses.

First and foremost was an overwhelming sense of relief – relief that Y/N was alive and standing before him, a beacon of hope amidst the devastation. The mere sight of her, her presence a comforting reminder of their shared history and the bond they had forged, filled his heart with a profound sense of gratitude.

But alongside relief, there was also a deep-seated longing – a longing for the lost time, for the moments they had shared before the world had descended into chaos. Seeing Y/N again awakened a flood of memories, memories of laughter and camaraderie, of unspoken connections and shared moments that now felt like distant echoes in the wake of tragedy.

Mixed with longing was a potent undercurrent of regret – regret for the pain and suffering they had endured, for the lives lost and the futures stolen. Logan couldn't help but wonder if there was more he could have done, if he could have somehow prevented the devastation that had torn them apart.

Yet, amidst the tumult of emotions, there was also a fierce determination – a determination to protect Y/N at all costs, to ensure that she would never again face the horrors of war alone. In that moment, as he held her close, Logan made a silent vow to do whatever it took to keep her safe, to carve out a future where they could finally find peace.

And underlying it all was a profound sense of love – a love that transcended time and space, a love that had endured despite the odds. In Y/N's arms, Logan found solace amidst the chaos, a glimmer of hope in a world consumed by darkness.

After the embrace had ended, Logan held onto Y/N's hands tightly, his gaze locking with hers with a newfound intensity. In that moment, the weight of his unspoken emotions pressed heavily upon him, urging him to finally lay bare the truth that had long been buried within his heart.

"Y/N," he began, his voice rough with emotion, "I… I need you to know something. I've been a fool, blind to what's been right in front of me all along."

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise, her heart fluttering with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. She waited with bated breath as Logan continued, his words carrying the weight of a lifetime's worth of regrets.

"I love you, Y/N," Logan confessed, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with an undeniable sincerity. "I've loved you for longer than I care to admit, but I was too damn stubborn to see it. I let my fears and insecurities cloud my judgment, and for that, I'm sorry."

Tears welled in Y/N's eyes at Logan's confession, her heart swelling with a rush of emotions she could hardly comprehend. In that moment, the walls she had built around her heart crumbled, leaving her vulnerable but unafraid.

"Logan," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion, "I love you too. I've loved you for as long as I can remember, but I was too afraid to say it. Too afraid of what it might mean, of what we might lose."

Their hands tightened around each other's, a silent vow passing between them. In that shared moment of vulnerability, Logan and Y/N laid bare their hearts, their love for each other a beacon of hope in a world shrouded in darkness.

And as they stood together, tears mingling with smiles, they knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, as long as they were together, they would face them with unwavering courage and unyielding love. For in each other's arms, they had found a home – a sanctuary amidst the chaos, where their love could flourish and grow stronger with each passing day.

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again, i'm so sorry it took me so long!!! this term has been so exhausting :,(

i really hope you guys liked the final part!! i hadn't meant to make it this long but i got a little carried away lol. i know it's not fully canon to the movies, sorry bout that.

#logan howlett #james howlett #wolverine #logan howlett x reader #james howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x you #james howlett x you #wolverine x you #logan howlett x y/n #james howlett x y/n #wolverine x y/n #logan howlett imagine #james howlett imagine #wolverine imagine #logan howlett oneshot #james howlett oneshot #wolverine oneshot

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silky-nereid · 4 months

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How does the traitorous yandere react when the reader gets tired of him and ends up betraying him too?

— skin & teeth

yandere!traitor x noble!reader

a/n : I can rewrite this if this isn’t what you wanted.

Yandere! Traitor who always wanted to be a knight after a simple mistake from his father was begrudgingly appointed as a royal secretary and in spite determined to be your favorite since you were heir to the throne.

Yandere! Traitor who secretly smiles when the ruler accidentally passed away because he knows that you simply aren’t ready to fill such tasks but doesn’t intend to help you.

Yandere! Traitor who placed in the appointments for which courtiers to meet and purposely chooses the ones that you extremely dislike.

Your hands traced over the map, eyes that blurred lines where territories began and ended. The heavy crown seemed to desperately carve itself into your skull to ensure a rule that would be marked in history rather for your reign to be forgotten by sands of time with the royal records. Your eyebrows knitted together in frustration, the weight of the crown was demanding that caused your throat to tighten with a single thought. The checkered flooring had seemingly doubled and began to pulsate with each step of your unsteady legs but the floor wasn’t cold and hard but soft and warm.

“Your majesty.” His arms guided you back down to the wooden chair. “Have you been feeling well?”

“Just well is what I want to believe,” you responded. “Too many plans. Too much of everything, I cannot breathe.”

“Entrust me, your majesty.” He knelt down before you; despised your very presence. “Allow me to make decisions now, understanding your current state.”

Yandere! Traitor who gets your trust and purposely misuses the sworn trust which causes eyes from other courtiers to carefully open before he would keep them quiet with a couple bags of money and rumors to spread about you.

Yandere! Traitor who barges into your room during the early hours about a decree or an important law that you needed to sign because there’s money going missing from the royal treasury.

Yandere! Traitor who smiles seeing you unravel because all you were now was just a noble person who wore a crown and he could replicate your position as ruler because your bloodline ruined everything and he simply wanted a taste.

He held scrolls and begrudgingly trailed behind you, stepping on every crack on the cobblestone pathway and pretending to listen to every word that came out from your lips. Isolated. Greenery of the garden had etched itself into the very foundation of the walls and you.

His free hand grazed the leather strap that held a dagger that wanted to be plunged into your back and serve its purpose. Fresh breeze blew through the pathway and stopped since you had stopped at an empty spot in the garden.

“What is your favorite flower?” You asked.

“I do not have a favorite,” he responded. “Do you have a favorite?”

Clinking of heavy armor echoed throughout the quiet garden and your warm hand held the silver cold gauntlet of the knight who was sworn from birth to protect you; a stain in the plan.

Yandere! Traitor who still tries to isolate you from the knight and desperately tries to have the reputation of the knight ruined beyond repair and begins to whisper in your ears; doubts about the knight since you can’t trust them, you don’t know what they are saying. He’s secretly ecstatic when you are forced to strip away the role from your sworn knight and appoint the knight that would soon steal the occasional jewelry from your bedroom to sell.

Yandere! Traitor who knowingly thrown you into the pit of snakes as he sees every crack your facade that he created for you as the rumors that he created for you seem to becoming a reality with you always looking over your shoulder and his hand who guides your trembling hand to sign the decree that you have zero idea about its contents since he has been attending the meetings and giving you opposite information of what is going on during the meetings.

Yandere! Traitor who is surprised when the sworn knight comes back because he thought you stripped away the role from the knight and he doesn’t want to loosen the strings that he tied around you and not when he’s so close to the end. After a little snooping around in your quarters when you were away, his heart tightened reading every sorrow filled letter that you had written in secrecy to the knight and the sweet reassurance that the knight would write back.

You held the remains of the scorched letters from the knight who currently stood outside of your quarters. Your eyes grabbed the scrap of the mysterious cloth that was embedded deeply in the bricks and pulled the knight into the room. The silver gauntlet of the knight caressed your face, resting on the connection where your upper jaw bone started.

“Can I trust you?” You looked at the knight with glazed eyes. “Can you tell me what is true? Try to find whoever this scrap of cloth belongs to, please.”

The knight never spoke but only nodded, taking the scrap of cloth and tucking it between their breast plate and aketon. They left, metal sabatons hitting the floor echoed throughout the hushed hallways.

“Your majesty,” he added, “I have a couple of decrees for you to sign.”

Your eyes merely looked down at the decrees that were placed onto your desk, breathing as you picked it up to read the contents.

“We have discussed these motions,” he said. “Why must you read over them now?”

“I forget many things and it would be better to read these decrees once more.” You began to read them which your eyebrows knitted together with each word. “This one cannot be approved and this one also cannot be approved as well. Have you lost your magic?”

You used the fireplace poker to move the firewood and threw the decrees that didn’t seem to make any sense on how they would contribute to your territory. Your hands tightened on the end of the scroll which your heart stitched together hearing the amount of territory lost from deals that were hidden away from your grasp.

Yandere! Traitor who notices your sudden independence once more and how desperately he tries to suffocate it away from you since it doesn’t fit his role that he shoved you in.

Yandere! Traitor who puts on a facade that everything is great despite him tugging on your chain yet you refuse to obey. He starts to put small doses of poison into your golden chalice since he can make it look like an accident once more.

Yandere! Traitor who’s dragged from his slumber to the grand hall and he sees the rain splattering on the stained glass murals.

“Your majesty,” he begged,” what is the meaning of this?”

He knelt before you, a thin blanket clung to his body and glanced down at his hands that trembled with such intensity. His head darted back up, nervously smiling softly to let him go.

“You have committed unspeakable actions against the very structure of the crown.” You stood up from your throne, candlelight flickered on the rings on your fingers. “You must admit to what you did. You should be ecstatic that I still am able to hold patience which you should end up flayed and your severed head on spike for all to see after attempting this pathetic poisoning attempt.”

Pathetic? His eyes darted at you with such boiling pain, hands that grabbed one of his daggers from in his boot, lunged at you but was stopped half way, the tip of the blade never broke through your skin since the knight defended at the correct time to prevent any more wounds on your skin.

“You should have admitted to your crimes.” You smiled. “Don’t be afraid, I will make the decisions since your state is disappointing but I believe that flaying isn’t harmful.”

#yandere fic #yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere fanfiction #yandere male x reader #yandere male x you #yandere oc #tw yandere #yandere prompt #yandere oc x you #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc x y/n

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toomanyideasandfandoms · 2 months

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Okay okay okay so I have a VERY hot take...

I don't think the Sovereigns would like the creator. Cuz like it's more likely that the creator is the one that made humans, not the dragons before it. Because why would you create the dragons, and then later on just throw away the idea and push the dragons away when you could have created another planet to put the humans on instead, right?

Neuvi is the exception because he was reborn off on a human body and is technically created by the creator. HOWEVER, imagine that it's the dragon's authority that helps Neuvi realize the creator is the real deal. Like sure, the subtle power that they notice from the creator is there, but like with the authority itself (and being in tune with it as much as he would be when he obtains it), it would be MUCH more obvious.

That brings up the question as to why the archons aren't able to tell, and that's because of their own mind blocking it. How most people work is that whenever they think something is true, it takes a LOT to be able to like change their mind on something if they were wrong. So imagine that they hear of the impostor going around, but whenever they meet them, they feel that power and that pull. But because they've conditioned themselves to think of them as the impostor and not the actual creator, they stay stubborn and just push off that doubt in their minds.

Y'know who wouldn't be like that? FOCALORS (and Nahida cuz Irminsul). Think about it, she barely hears about any sort of like rumors or any badmouthin the cause she's been inside the Oritrice, and because she is made out of water (Oceanid stuff), they're more in tune with the authority. So without that block, they can tell right away during the trial on the "impostor" that they are in fact the real creator, which is why it will ALWAYS say they are innocent, no matter what.

Anyways, kinda went off on a tangent there sorry-

🍌anon

See this is where I ended up deep diving in the wiki by accident at one point that caused me to have this big brain moment.

So we know the Primordial One exists right? This is a canon god that created humans after essentially taking over Teyvat with the Heavenly Principles. That's canon.

So if the Primordial One is already canonically the one who created our characters (essentially)...what the fuck did our creator create?

My answer, Teyvat itself of course. But also the dragon Sovereigns themselves.

But I can already hear you asking, then how did we get to the modern canon of gods? Simple, Teyvat itself is an entity that can control and influence the elements, albeit very little. And with that influence the Heavenly Principles can't fully erase the authority of the creator, instead they rewrite history to favor them.

Saying the Dragons grew tired of being under the creator and chose to rebel, causing the creator to summon the Primordial One (which causes the creator to gain the title of Primordial Mother) to gain aid from. Then we essentially have our original canon mythos that's in the game itself. Essentially it's the same as with any history, written by the victors instead of what the full truth is.

And for why the archons can't recognize the creator is simply because the Heavenly Principles just won't allow them to. Because they've stolen (or attempted to for eons) the authority from the creator.

And here's my own hot take when it comes to the role of the Heavenly Principles, they aren't the creator's friend. They're more like a parasite that's trying to take over what the creator had originally made. Though the reasons I haven't fully thought up honestly. Could be jealousy, a twisted version of obsession, honestly it's up in the air for now.

But I like your hot take! Honestly most aus I've seen where the Heavenly Principles are on the creator's side would fit this very well. Actually it would be interesting if someone did an au where the isekaied protagonist is the reincarnation of the Primordial One and has to deal with the fact that they are trapped in Fontaine because the rage the Hydro Sovereign has would keep them there for all eternity just so he could enact justice on their past life's actions.

#sagau #genshin sagau #others ideas #🍌 anon #hope this doesnt feel like i was arguing #or that i was being condensing somehow #just thought it was a good opportunity to explain what i remember reading #and how it fit with my au #fhekdjfk

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sky-scribbles · 8 months

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(A draft of a latter found discarded in the Sword Coast Couriers’ office. Addressed to a Morena Dekarios, but apparently never sent.)

Dearest Mother,

I can only extend my most profound apologies for the unpardonable length of my silence. A true conspiracy of circumstances has kept me from sending word to you, but my filial duty shall be neglected no longer, now that I may at last avail myself of a courier service again (and have ensured that a certain tressym shall not consume the appointed pigeon.)

First of all, an explanation is both deserved and due. Be assured, before you read on, that I am perfectly well

I am not in any immediate danger

the statement ‘I was abducted by an illithid vessel, spirited far from home and deposited in the untamed wilderness of the Sword Coast’ is far less frightening in practice that it might appear on paper

I have simply been away from civilisation for a spell. But I now have the fortune to find myself in Baldur’s Gate, and able to avail myself of the exquisite pleasure of fresh parchment.

Your first question, I imagine – and a most justifiable one it is! – is when I shall return to my much-missed Waterdeep, and to you. Rest assured that I fully intend

I wish for nothing more than to do precisely that. The pain of being so far from home is an ever-expanding and insistent grief.

Yet, sorry to say, the situation in Baldur’s Gate is a delicate and complex one at present, and I mind myself obligated to remain until the city is at no longer at imminent risk of annihilation

until I’ve made a decision regarding an artefact I became aware of lately

I know where my path onward might lead, and what might be required of me. There is a possibility mere inches from my grasp, one that holds the promise of change, of rewriting so much for the better. But if my road should lead where I hope it might, I do not know if I will be able to

I will be changed

I wish I could promise

it may not be in my power to return for some time.

It breaks my heart to be so evasive with you. I am sure you are about ready to tear this page up with frustration by now, and my only pitiful excuse is that this has been the most difficult letter of my life. Every day, every hour, I ache to Teleport myself straight to your side and let all that I have concealed spill from me, like a sealing rune shattered, a wound torn open.

Once there was a time when a word from you, a single touch, could resettle the world on its axis and mend all the brokenness there was. Regrettably, I fear what eats at me now is beyond any power to heal, even that of your boundless love. Knowing that does not stop me from wishing I could go to you, and be small once more. All these years, and I fear your golden child has yet to grow up.

The histories say that Mystra was a mortal woman once. I wonder if she remembers her parents. I wonder if she ever longs for them.

I wonder if I will.

I have stayed away for so long, knowing that you were safer far from me. Now, when I consider how you may feel when I become something you can no longer hold, I wish distance were enough to protect you. I have no choice

I could do so much

I can think of no way to soften the pain of what is to come, other than weaving time itself anew so that you never had a son at all. Perhaps that would have been better for you, ultimately. For everyone.

I don’t know what to do

I love you

I know I’m going to break your heart

I’m sorry.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 gale #just... having thoughts about where his head might have been at #before tav talks him down from the godhood thing (or where his head might've stayed at if they don't)#sky's writing #bg3 spoilers

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mncxbe · 2 months

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Whoops, another request from me, only if you want to<3 Fitzgerald with 22👀

pookie♡ hope you like this. i made him a bit tragic hihi

22 — Cheating on their wife with you (TW: cheating, canon ships)

ღೀ๋࣭ ⭑𝒄𝒘: one sided love?, sad Fitzgerald

Francis loves his wife, he has loved her from the moment he first saw her and there was nothing in the whole world that could change his heart. He came all the way to Japan for her– ready to rewrite history itself and walk over anyone who dared stay in his way of finding a way to bring his daughter back to life, of making his family whole again.

But despite all that, he is just a man, and any man has needs. His work is so frustrating he craves something to get his mind off all the shit he has to put up with every day, and that's how you wound up in his life– a pretty girl on the side to help him blow off some steam.

It was supposed to be a one time thing, but that harmless hookup was followed by another one and then another one until it became a routine. It was a good arrangement nonetheless: you were insatiable and he was desperate to escape his worries for just a few hours.

"Fuck, Y/N hold still I got you" he pants, hips snapping against yours at a relentless speed. His grip on your hips tightens as he pushes you further against his desk, its narrow edge dugging into your skin.

"F-francis please slow down a bit or 'm gonna–"

"No talking, pretty. Just keep quiet and enjoy, ok?" It was so much easier when you were quiet, when you didn't moan his name over and over again like a prayer– he could actually pretend it was his dear wife there, not you.

But when you cum around him, walls clamping down on his cock, your pretty cunt pulsating from the intensity of your orgasm, it's your name he mumbles under his breath.

"Shit– Y/N you're so fucking good for me baby. So, so good" His voice broken, eyes darkened with desire, he holds onto you like you're all he's got left in this life. He doesn't even bother to pull out when he cums. He can't, not when your pretty pussy's sucking him in oh so nicely.

Despite his infidelity, despite indulging so shamelessly in you, Francis loves his wife. And it's his wife he wishes he could hold as he fell asleep, his wife he wishes he could kiss first thing in the morning– and his wife telling him i love yous in a hushed voice. Not you.

#𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝ღೀ๋࣭ ⭑#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bsd smut #francis bsd #fitzgerald bsd #bsd fitzgerald #tw cheating

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theodorenmyth · 10 days

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Thank u for writing the theodore forbidden love with Ravenclaw reader story, I love it! Is it possible to ask for a sequel to that one? Right after the war, theo sees gn!reader again ready to move on with life, but he decides this time he wants to break tradition and pursues reader? More angst but happy ending this time please. Thanks! 😊

Breaking the Tradition.

Pairings : Theodore Nott x GN! Reader Summary : Sequel to Forbidden Love, After the war, Theodore Nott never expected to see you again. But when you cross paths, both of you are different people, ready to move forward. Theodore, however, decides to break tradition and pursue you, despite the challenges and the ghosts of the past that haunt him. In this angsty journey towards healing and love, will tradition hold or will Theodore rewrite his own destiny with you? A/n : Enjoy (⁠・⁠∀⁠・⁠) Warnings) : Nothing! Word count : 1k+

You stand there, amidst the debris of what once was, the echoes of the war still resonating through the air. Your eyes, though weary, hold a glimmer of determination, a silent promise to move forward. And in that moment, Theodore Nott feels a surge of admiration mixed with longing, his gaze fixed on you as if you were the beacon of hope in a world shrouded by darkness.

It's been months since the war ended, since you both last crossed paths. Theodore had resigned himself to the shadows, a mere spectator in the aftermath, haunted by memories he wished to forget. But seeing you now, standing tall despite the chaos around, something stirs within him, a desire to break free from the chains of tradition and reach for something real.

He watches you from afar, noticing the subtle changes—the way you carry yourself with newfound strength, the way your smile, though rare, holds a hint of genuine happiness. It ignites a spark within Theodore, a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, there's a chance for something different, something beyond the confines of the past.

With a newfound resolve, Theodore sets out to find you, to unravel the mysteries that lie within your heart. He knows it won't be easy, knows that the scars of the past run deep, but he's willing to take the risk, to defy the expectations placed upon him and follow his own path.

The first time he sees you up close, it's as if time stands still. Your eyes meet his, and for a moment, the world fades away, leaving only the two of you in its wake. Theodore takes a step forward, his heart pounding in his chest, uncertainty mingling with hope.

"I thought I might find you here," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

You offer him a small smile, a flicker of recognition in your eyes. "I didn't think anyone would come looking for me."

Theodore shakes his head, determination shining in his gaze. "I couldn't stay away, not when there's so much left unsaid."

And so begins a delicate dance between the two of you, words unspoken yet hanging heavy in the air. Theodore finds himself drawn to you in ways he never thought possible, each moment spent together etching itself into his heart.

But amidst the blossoming affection, there's a lingering sense of doubt, a fear that history will repeat itself. Theodore knows the pain of loss all too well, knows the consequences of daring to defy tradition. Yet, with you, it feels different, feels worth the risk.

"I don't want to lose you again," he confessed, his voice barely audible over the din of the crowd.

The words hung in the air, a fragile thread connecting you to him across the expanse of time and space. And in that moment, you realized that despite the pain and the heartache, despite the scars that adorned your souls, you still cared for him, still yearned for the connection that had once bound you together.

"I don't want to lose you either," you whispered, your voice barely louder than a breath.

"I want to break the tradition," he whispered, his voice barely audible above the roar of their beating hearts.

You looked up at him, confusion clouding your eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I mean… I want to pursue you," Theodore clarified, his words hanging in the air like a silent prayer.

A flicker of disbelief crossed your features before giving way to something softer, something hopeful. "But the tradition…"

"Fuck the stupid tradition," he declared, his voice growing stronger with each word. "I've spent too long hiding in the shadows, too long letting tradition dictate my fate. But not anymore. Not when there's a chance for something real, something… extraordinary."

There was a vulnerability in his confession, a rawness that laid bare his heart for you to see. And in that moment, you saw him—not as the boy he once was, but as the man he had become, scars and all.

"I'm tired of pretending," Theodore continued, his voice trembling with emotion. "Tired of hiding behind masks and half-truths. But with you… with you, I want to be… everything."

Tears welled in your eyes, a silent testament to the pain and longing that had plagued them both for far too long. But amidst the tears, there was a glimmer of hope, a spark of something new, something worth fighting for.

"Then let's rewrite our own tradition," you whispered, your voice echoing his declaration. "Let's make our own rules, our own destiny."

And with those words, Theodore Nott took your hand in his, intertwining their fingers in a silent vow. It was the beginning of a journey—a journey towards healing, towards love, towards a future they had only dared to dream of.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

As days turn into weeks, Theodore finds himself falling deeper and deeper, his walls crumbling in the face of your unwavering presence. He wants to believe that happiness is within reach, that he can rewrite the narrative of his life and find solace in your arms.

But just as he begins to let himself hope, the past comes crashing back with a vengeance, threatening to tear apart everything he holds dear. Theodore is faced with a choice—succumb to the darkness that threatens to consume him once more, or fight for the love he knows he deserves.

In the end, Theodore chooses love, chooses you. He stands by your side as you face the demons of the past together, his hand intertwined with yours, a silent promise to never let go.

And as the sun sets on the horizon, casting a warm glow over the world, Theodore realizes that breaking tradition was the best decision he ever made. For in your arms, he finds not only love but also redemption—a chance to start anew and embrace the happiness he never thought possible.

Together, you forge a new path, one filled with hope and promise, leaving behind the shadows of the past to bask in the light of a future filled with endless possibilities. And as you lean in to kiss him under the fading light of day, Theodore knows that he's finally found where he truly belongs—in your heart.

And as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, Theodore realized that breaking tradition was the best decision he had ever made. For in your arms, he found solace, redemption, and a love that transcended the boundaries of time and space.

So when the time came to rebuild, to forge a new future from the ashes of the past, Theodore knew that he would not be alone. With you by his side, anything was possible, and together, you would defy the odds and rewrite the stars.

For love, as Theodore had come to learn, was the greatest tradition of all—a timeless bond that could withstand even the harshest of trials and tribulations. And as you stood together, hand in hand, gazing out at the horizon with hope shining bright in your eyes, Theodore knew that this was only the beginning of your journey, a journey filled with endless possibilities and infinite love.

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foxylady13 · 2 months

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E/riels are making everything into such a huge ordeal to "win" and I genuinly can't wait when their hopes and dreams crash and burn. Sorry, not sorry.

If you have to rely on outside articles and songs to prove your ship has "won" then your ship has already sunk because Sarah is going to write what she wants and we know the TRUE direction she's going because we have canon on our side that points us to Gwynriel and Elucien endgame.

Sarah doesn't just rewrite history for no reason. She placed Azriel at Sangravah, had him slaughtering all the remaining soldiers there, and had him giving his cloak to Gwyn. Isn't that kinda similar toLucien gave Elain his cloak after freeing himself from magical restraints to get to her?

Sarah also doesn't use mate coding language lightly. The music between souls and knowing Azriel shadows sang back in answer to some perceived music he heard is a dead giveaway when we learn about Nessian bond snapping into place the same night as Azriel's bonus chapter takes place.

Lucien still looks at Elain with longing in ACOSF and E/riel has little to no interactions at all in that book itself if you take the bonus chapter out of the equation. Elain is seen near Helion, much like Lucien was with Elain’s father for a time...Elain and Lucien are still mates....

Sarah has shown us the direction she's going. It's that obvious if you actually read the book 🤷‍♀️

#gwynriel #elucien #pro gwynriel #pro elucien #gwyn and azriel #elain and lucien #azriel and gwyn #lucien and elain #anti e/riel

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flowercrowngods · 4 months

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knightmærs

love: saying "i love you" even when you're scared written for @steddielovemonth day 20 (@quinns-shadowy-arts)

M | ~3.1k | tags: medieval-ish au, prince!steve, lovers to enemies who are still lovers but it’s intrigue cw: torture (both implied and explicit), past & on-screen brainwashing, manipulation, angst, violence, open ending, mild gore, traditional fairytale imagery

princemær

It is not the sensation of cold steel touching his throat that makes him halt, the blade against his skin a feeling so familiar these days that he barely falters in his steps anymore. Nor is it the clearly spoken threat of, “One wrong move, Kas, and I will paint the soil with your blood so that something good may come of your existence after all.”

Original, that. Eddie is not loath to admit it.

And were this valiant knight anyone else, he surely would have worked his clever tongue to make it count, at the very least, that they should have caught him at last. Judging by the determination in the man’s hazel eyes and the absolute calm in his hand, sword unwavering against Eddie’s throat, he would have paid gravely for it.

As it is, though, Eddie can only stare into the eyes of his imminent captor, frozen to the spot and freezing yet more when he finds no trace of recognition in those eyes.

What did they do to you? he wonders desperately, so forlorn in the throes of distress he finds no wherewithal to struggle against four men of the Prince’s guard as they roughly disarm and bind him. He doesn’t take his eyes off the Prince, aching for just a hint of recognition, even a glint of betrayal and hatred – but all he can find is cold nothingness as the Prince holds his gaze, looking down at Eddie from his royal mare. It’s not one Eddie recognises, and he is reminded of the years he has gone without those eyes in his life.

“The King is expecting your return,” says the Prince, sheathing his sword when one of his men binds Eddie to the back of his horse; the first of many tortures, he is sure.

Or rather, the second, with the way the Prince is looking at him, speaking to him without that familiar melody to his voice. It is monotonous now, and Eddie wants to become the monster again that they all make him out to be, if only to rip out the throat of the person who did this to him. The person who took the Prince’s voice, his smile, his memories.

He would gladly become a monster for him all over again.

“A sword has been made for your head, after all. And a feast for your demise.”

And with that, the Prince spurs his mare into a trot, his loyal guardsmen following just behind him, pulling Eddie with them. It is a small miracle that he does not stumble and fall, the floor beneath his feet unsteady as cotton as all feeling leaves his body and the world rewrites itself around him and this very moment.

Prince Steven wants him publicly executed. That is not what leaves Eddie’s stomach with a wave of nausea he barely manages to swallow down, panting and gasping for air as he is from running after the horses.

No, what leaves him with a frozen bloodstream and a panicked paralysis of the mind is that Prince Steven recognises him no longer. Remembers not the history that lies between them. The sacrifices made.

Were the situation any different, allowing for tears and curses cried into the dark of night without threat of detection, Eddie would have wailed. Wept at the realisation that he should have never left Steve to the claws of the King and his advisor.

What did they do to you? he agonises, staring at the familiar blues that attire the Prince so tragically familiar. And how do I get you back before you spell doom for yourself with my own blood?

***

Foolishly, Eddie has spent years of his life thinking he would never be presented with this view again: The palace in all its glory, sandstone nary white and golden, shining and gleaming in ways more sublime than the sun herself. It stole many a night from him, the thought of this vision and the heart it holds inside, a keep more than a palace, and just as out of reach for the hands of a man deemed a traitor to the kingdom.

But now here he is, stumbling on bleeding feet as the horse drags him into the courtyard of what used to be his home so many winters ago he has lost count. People gave gathered in the streets and alleys and up by the windows, chancing a look at the man condemned, sweat and tears dried and crusted on his cheeks, ripped clothes showing bleeding wounds from falling when the Prince demanded they ride faster.

He can scarcely hold his own weight anymore, his feet aching and burning, his entire body on fire and dehydrated, the world around him spinning just quickly enough that he takes too long to realise it when the Prince cuts the rope from the horse’s saddle and takes a hold of it instead. Holding Eddie like a mutt on a leash – and he’s panting like one, too.

Still he catches his breath long enough to lift his chin and look at the Prince, showing defiance in one simple act that in another lifetime counted as devotion. But he wants to look at him. Wants to drink him in, changed though he might be.

“Will you lead me to death now, Your Majesty?”

The Prince says nothing as he rebinds Eddie’s wrists, securing them to his chest so he can’t easily break free and the Prince’s neck in the process. A wave of pride washes over him, even as he realises that he must succumb to being a prisoner for now with no means to escape.

“I am but your humble subject. Where you lead, I will follow,” Eddie says with a wavering voice, just barely resisting to bow before his Prince for dramatic effect and hoping that would conceal the truth to his words.

“One more word, snake,” he says, cold eyes boring into Eddie’s like a blade of ice and leaving trickles of fear in their wake, “and I will personally see to your death being so slow and painful, you will have forgotten your own name just before I am done, leaving you not enough time to remember. You will spend eternity wandering and finding no peace. Finding not even your name, as all you are has been replaced with pain.”

Eddie flinches away from him unwittingly, hating the cold smirk that infests that beautiful face. His Prince wouldn’t talk like that. His Prince would not resort to threats of torture, inflicting fear wherever he sets foot.

He had heard the stories, tales of a Prince changed, accounts of the Golden Prince dimmed and dulled, a tender heart hardened and smooth edges roughened to hurt whoever dared to touch him. The first few years he had heard the tales, and still he had chosen disbelief and doubt. Refusal to believe it.

His Prince would never. Stevie could never.

And yet.

“What happened to you?” he whispers, the words leaving his mouth before he can stop them, and he watches as something shutters behind those familiar eyes.

“You cut out my heart. All those years ago, when you killed him. I intend to do the same to you.”

Eddie swallows, the words not making sense. He has killed many a man, those who deserved it and those who did not, but whom could he have killed to elicit such a response from the Prince?

“Whom?” he dares ask, preparing for a blade in his stomach or a fist in his face, ready for the guards to pull him back and pummel him until he does indeed forget his name and the rest of the world for a while.

But the Prince stands his ground, his cold gaze nary lifeless even as Eddie’s vision swims.

“Eddie.”

And all the blood flees his body in a rush as understanding dawns on him, leaving yet more confusion as he hears his own name fall from the Prince’s lips with such barely concealed grief and sadness that it makes his knees buckle.

“I intend to repay you for what you have taken from me. Settle the blood debt. Three days from now, it shall be my hand on the sword that will have your head.”

Eddie is too stunned to speak, too exhausted from two days on his feet, dragged on his feet and on his back, and the unfamiliar sensation of fear grips his whole body and intensifies the aches and pains he feels until his legs give out and he lands on his knees in front of his Prince, close to weeping once more.

A hand comes to rest on his chin, tipping up his face so he can meet those royal eyes, and Eddie finds himself wishing for the blade instead.

“Good,” Prince Steven says, his voice quiet, only for Eddie to hear. “I want to hear you beg for your life.”

Eddie cannot keep a hold of the tear that breaks free and rolls down his face, leaving a trace for the Prince to follow as he undoubtedly marvels at having the great Betrayer on his knees and at a loss for words.

And Eddie knows he will beg. But not for his life.

***

Torture does come, but not from his Prince.

Instead it is Henry, the King’s advisor, who takes great pleasure in taunting him, leaving his body bloodied and bruised before he applies whatever concoction he cooked up that will leave Eddie feeling like his insides have turned to flames, leaving him to grunt and bite down on his screams as Henry weaves tales out of thin air laced with blood, sweat and tears.

“You were always so gullible, the both of you,” Henry continues, though Eddie must have missed the beginning of his words, as even these ones barely reach him through the pain.

“What did you do to him?” he asks around a mouthful of blood, spitting at Henry’s feet, revealing in the sick twist of his mouth that Eddie can just barely make out as his vision blurs dangerously.

“What did we do to him? Oh, even a decade later you are still the same stupid boy you were then, hmm? It is you who did this to him. It is you who betrayed him, killing Eddie Munson and becoming Kas The Betrayer. Do you not recall?”

His world tilts suddenly as Henry fills his mouth with a bitter liquid, clamping his mouth shut so Eddie has no choice but to swallow it all.

“Surely you do remember the way you shoved your blade between Munson’s ribs on your way out of this cell all these years ago, cutting out his heart and making it your first feast of your newly-won freedom. Surely you remember betraying the Prince’s trust and then killing his lover and his best friend. You must remember, stupid boy, and know that your execution will bring freedom to the Prince’s mind that is so trapped in its vengefulness.”

Nausea overcomes him and he retches, but Henry prevents him from throwing up and emptying his bowels to rid himself from whatever the alchemist uses to cloud his senses and reshape the world to his very own liking.

“Shut up,” Eddie wheezes, earning a well-placed punch for his troubles. “Don’t touch him. Don’t you… Don’t you touch him.”

A smile fills his vision as Henry comes close to hum as he turns Eddie’s face this way and that, keeping him from shaking it as images of a false history manifest in his mind.

“Oh, I won’t have to touch him. See, he will realise what he has done on the scaffold. The veil over his eyes will be lifted when your heart stops beating, all the pieces will fall into place, but still he will be blind, for the veil will be replaced with the ghost of you, slowly fading beneath him.”

Henry is circling him, stalking him like a predator his prey. Eddie has not been prey in so long. He does not know how to suppress the shivers or the horror at the tale woven around him.

“And then, sword still in hand as it drips with your blood, despair will overcome him and he will follow you. The kingdom will be freed of the King’s pest of an heir, and I will lend his grieving Majesty a helping hand in ruling his kingdom. That is, of course, until he, too, ultimately succumbs to grief for his only son, leaving only myself to rebuild and reshape first the kingdom and then the whole world just the way I want.”

He comes to a stop in front of him, another dark green flask in his hand.

“You are but a pawn in this, Kas.”

More of the bitter liquid flows down his throat and Eddie almost chokes on it, coughing it up and trying to resist, but Henry is stronger than he is. Always has been.

And with poison in his ears and his bloodstream alike, Henry’s words grow truths inside Kas’s mind; the memory of Eddie Munson dying on his blade, the blood dripping down his fingers as he takes a bite of the man’s heart, and the prince’s screams in his ear at this ultimate betrayal, for that heart belonged to him.

When he loses his grasp on consciousness, out of breath and out of his mind with pain, he wishes for the scaffold. He wishes for the Prince to take his life and settle the debt. Avenge his love. Avenge what Kas can only ever dream about.

***

Gradually, over the span of only three days spent in either sensory deprivation or torture, Henry manages to drain the dredges of Eddie’s false identity and replace them with what really happened; replace them with Kas. With guilt, with shame, with a debt so severe it could never be paid back as long as Kas remains alive.

He forgets about most of Henry’s visits, wakes up with new injuries and new memories, the reserves of water left for him tasting bitter and wrong, but he is always so desperate for it, he has not the luxury of choice.

The Prince never comes.

***

The third sun rises and finds Kas a broken man.

They lead him out in chains and shackles, like he poses any risk of escaping. Like he doesn’t welcome what is about to come. Like he doesn’t—

He…

Kas falters in his steps the very second he lays eyes on the Prince, hand resting on the hilt of a broadword that looks to be expertly crafted. A sword has been made for your head, after all. He swallows, ignoring the guard that kicks him in the shin and punches him in the neck, telling him to move forward.

His head aches the longer he watches the Prince, the world around him becoming hazy as guilt and shame wash over him, the feeling that this is right, this is what he deserves. And still, underneath it all, when Prince Steven meets his eyes, there is the nagging feeling that none of this is right at all. That the Prince should not be looking at him like that, should not be holding onto that sword, should not be his own executioner.

It splits his head, but still he is helpless against the shackles, cannot struggle when the guards pull him along instead.

The Prince says not a word until Kas the Betrayer kneels before him, and once again there is a wave of familiarity that comes from this action, but he cannot place it. Kas has never knelt for anyone, so it must be wrong. It must be instinct, the last desperate flare of a dying flame, leaving him disoriented, his head flooded with visions of how life could have been.

The headache mingles with a new wave of fevered need to live, to rip apart these shackles and kill every guardsman and the King himself before he leaves the sandstone castle behind him once more.

But there is also a strange sensation of calmness that tells him he is willing to let it happen like it must. He is willing to give this to the Prince and repent. He is willing to give it all up and give in to this.

Kas the Betrayer is ready to die. He is too tired to alter the course of fate any longer.

But then? Oh, a lone man’s willingness is not force strong enough to defy the will of Fate herself.

Because when Prince Steven opens his mouth, all the bitterness leaves Eddie’s mouth, all the visions become unveiled at the sound of that voice that for decades now has held him through pain and pleasure alike, the voice that whispered promises of a future together of even just five minutes away from prying eyes.

When Prince Steven opens his mouth, Kas becomes Eddie once more, coming to life again inside his own tired, exhausted, agonised head.

“Any last wish?”

For those to be the words that save him carries a strange sense of irony, and Eddie knows it’s too late. He knows the plan will commence. Maybe it’s for the better. Ten years he has suffered without his heart, ten years spent shunned and banished and labeled a traitor to all kingdoms simply because he dared to love his Prince more than his King. Ten years that have left him tired and worn out, without a purpose to his ways.

And Steve, subjected to Henry and his alchemy, his poisons and potions, his bitterness that will turn your insides to flames. Steve, tortured and manipulated for ten years without Eddie there to protect him.

Maybe it’s for the best that it should end now. That it should end like this. He has no strength left in his body, could not free himself or the Prince even if he were foolish enough to try.

Still he finds himself relieved that he should die inside his own head this time. That small mercies and miracles alike will grant him this. Looking at Steve as he takes his last breaths.

So, does he have any last wish?

“Yes,” he croaks, daring to look up into those once so beautiful eyes that hold no warmth anymore.

Tell me what they did to you. A kiss from my Prince. Don’t turn this blade on yourself when this life has left my body. Believe me when I say this is a trap, and I am not who you think I am.

But he says none of that. Wishes for something else. Wishes not for himself.

He swallows, straightening his back. “I wish that you would… That you would just, just listen to me.” Fear overcomes him, and he knows these will be his last words.

The Prince inclines his head, intent at least on listening. Good. That’s good.

Because now, for the first time in a decade, Eddie will utter these words to ears that will listen. Fear grips his heart, squeezing around it until it stops. And still he speaks.

“I love you. And I forgive you.”

tagging: @skiddit @inklessletter @aringofsalt @hellion-child @hotluncheddie @gutterflower77 @auroraplume @steddieonbigboy @n0-1-important @stevesjockstrap @brainvines @puppy-steve @madigoround @izzy2210 @itsall-taken @mangoinacan13 (i have a permanent tag list now, lmk if you want on or off 🤍 these are only the ones who commented on the post) (sorry the first tag should be so fucked up mwah)

note: i posted this last night but then wanted to double check with the lovely lovely mod of steddielovemonth (kith for you!) if this was okay to post, and she said yes, so fever dream round 2! sorry for the inconvenience, thank you for the patience! 🤍

#steddie fic #steddie #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddielovemonth #this is still a fever dream of a fic #this one goes out to all the blorbos from my notes who wished for this to come back 🤍#i could (and probably should) make this a 10k thing but i kinda love the lack of context of background that comes w these types of stories #we just vibin with fucked up dynamics and more questions than the text could answer yesss #(but i keep wanting to add to it help. anyone know what's going on? no? me neither come join the club the words just be happening)#dark!fic #<- not really but the themes are there yknow #konrad von würzburg would be proud of me for this #dio words #dio's steddie ramblings

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gold-rhine · 11 months

Text

Inazuma Rewrite Act Two

Please read part one before reading this. It will make no sense otherwise.

In part one I did setup for the vision hunt conflict, changed Raiden’s motivations, added Rebellion \ Resistance interaction and Teppei setup, added setups to the arcs to Ayaka and Yoimiya. And more!

In this installment:

Let’s Make Player Give A Fuck About Rebellion and Teppei

Kokomi Is Not An Idiot

Delusions Are Not The Aging Beach

Ayaka’s Arc Pay-off

and more!

All disclaimers from part one also apply, I’m not gonna copy paste them.

Raiden Shogun First Duel

I think we can keep the duel itself mostly unchanged. The cutscenes are pretty good and very cinematic, I don’t see reason to fix things which are not broke when there are already so many broken things

so, Traveler comes to Thoma’s rescue, gets taken to raiden’s plane of euthemia

also mb let’s cut i hate all minorities dialogue and instead like. open disobedience of the traveler to raiden shogun is i think enough to be used as a cause for the duel

The dialogue with raiden changes, we add banter with Traveler where traveler is like but you were pro-change before! and like cites some Transience things we talked about in the part 1.

Raiden gets mad in response, yells “Don’t you dare to mention her against me!” and that’s when she throws Traveler out of euthemia and prepares the boob nuke

yeah, it’s foreshadowing of Makoto reveal

then the cutscene is the same, Thoma chucks a spear in her face and escapes with the traveler

thoma goes into hiding, traveler goes to join rebellion. bc they’re already in contact with gorou, we skip meandering around and go straight to the goal

First battle

and we arrive directly to the battlefield

there are several problems with rebellion pacing and kokomi characterization, which i elaborated on before. Like, Kokomi in canon only has one battle, which she wins because she hired mercenaries with fatui money. which like! invalidates this whole thing and makes her naive enough to be duped by the bad guys. So we need a battle win which is decidedly due to Kokomi’s genius.

so like in canon, Kujou Sara demands rebellion give her the traveler. Teppei, whos also there, is like no, fuck off! he’s embarrassed to speak out of the order but determined.

Gorou of course gives a speech about not giving up comrades, the fight starts, we have cool battle animation blah blah, and then suddenly!! Kujou Sara has reinforcements coming from behind some cliffs, oh no!! Teppei yells there’s too much of them! We will be overrun! Close up of Gorou’s snarling face, eyes darting, ready to call retreat, close up of victoriously looking Sara, Tenryou reinforcements are running to the battle...

The water bubbles start rising up and Kokomi appears. She smiles at Gorou reassuringly and does some cool water animation. The hidden spring\waterfall bursts up with water and crushes into the reinforcements, washing them away. Rebellion rejoices, Kujou Sara curses and calls retreat.

i’ve seen people demand kokomi to have like a cool battle transforming into a dragon or smth bc of her origins and draconae constellation, but like this is missing the narrative pacing. the vishap origins only make sense after enkanomya where we learn about watatsumi history AND on the subversion of “oh its pink pastel kokomi who is smart and sweet :3”. Like we need to know her like that first, and THEN the dragon reveal will be cool and interesting.

Rebellion and Teppei overall setup

so, the Rebellion act wanted to accomplish too many things and didn’t structure them efficiently:

make you feel comradery with rebellion

make you like teppei

make you feel like a leader of your own squad, but like you EARNEd it, bc at first soldiers are distrustful and make you prove yourself

establish delusions and that delusions are bad bc teppei died, which is sad bc p.2

in canon it’s like - have one scene with teppei, do some useless fetch errands for rebels, have another scene with teppei, be assigned swordfish captain and have two quick scenes with two dudes you will not remember

so obviously no one gives a fuck with this kind of pacing

instead, we will combine all of this and more importantly, give it narrative throughline so it doesn’t feel so disconnected and erratic

traveler is already known to Gorou through resistance meet up, he vouches for them, and Kokomi immediately names Traveler as captain of swordfish 2

Teppei is here and he excitedly volunteers to join that squad too

Gorou is like hey its a high risk squad that’s deployed on front lines, and you don’t have combat experience like, at all

Paimon and Traveler step up to be like yeah its fine, we’ll look after him, teppei is like omg thanks you guys :3

turns out he has problems fitting in with the rebels. they are all great ppl, sure, but they are warriors bonded in fights for years and most of them are from watatsumi.

and he’s like a merchant or a clerk from narukami island. he feels like an outsider and a burden

but now the Traveler is here! they are already buddies from that resistance meet up and Traveler is an outsider too. They can stick together!

Swordfish II

So you go to meet up with your swordfish squad. You are greeted by a buff butch woman who is v no-nonsense and skeptical about your ability to be leader and another woman who is more friendly, but still kinda keeps distance and is snarky

their code names are Xena and Gabrielle for no reason other that we need buff female models like blacksmihs, hoyo. The point is that we need some memorable NPCs to represent swordfish, bc these two dudes that give you shit in canon for 3 second? I couldn’t remember them if my life depended on it

anyway, you learn that the previous captain just died and everyone loved and was very loyal to them, and now they are hostile to anyone who tries to take command.

So we do couple of battle to prove we’re strong blah blah, teppei is useless during a fight and Xena makes fun of him for this, and he’s super embarrassed

after that we walk around with teppei. Swordfishes camp is kinda shabby, they just took a bad hit. So we help the wounded, repair some tents, etc, but most important, Teppei uses expertise he’s got from his civilian job to solve problems

like he knows how to make a great painkiller potion bc he used to sell them. Or he gets an idea to use empty bags from used supplies to cover holes in tents, etc.

Point is, he contributes.

After all this, Xena and Gabrielle are walking around, and Gabrielle is like wow captain, did you do all these improvements, and Traveler is like yeah, but it was all Teppei’s solutions, and Xena doesn’t say anything, but you can see she’s surprised and appreciative that you’re not only strong in combat, but care for the squad

she nods over the campfire at teppei like “i guess you’re not so useless after all, narukami nerd”

he protests, everyone laughs, its Bonding Time

Kokomi is not an idiot\ Fatui

We’re summoned to go see Kokomi. She’s in deep thought. Rebellion is in dire situation, supplies are running out, she’s sure they will not be able to win another open confrontation, even with her strategic tricks

But there is a new development - she’s being offered a huge anonymous donation. With that money, she could hire mercs to help. But to accept money without knowing the source is too risky, it could be a trap or setup

so she asks us to investigate these mysterious benefactors. bc also there are some vague rumors about some way to get boost to power going around and thats very sus too

bc like no, I cannot get over supposed genius Kokomi just taking fatui’s help blindly and letting them spread delusions around

so we go to the quest to investigate clues, with the swordfishes, its our first srs mission as the captain.

its couple of fights, blah blah. we find some clues and then its the Leader Decision time.

like there are two camps and we need to strike both at the same time, or the other one will destroy evidence and run, but we don’t have enough manpower. traveler is like can take one camp by myself, and Xena at first is skeptical, but we’ve proven ourselves yesterday so she’s like okay I trust you, boss

everything goes well, both camps are taken and we find evidence that these donations are in fact, from fatui! and they are trying to spread delusions, which are bad and can kill you!

Delusions

I’m not a fan of Delusions working like the aging beach from that movie Old. Like first of all, if that’s how it worked, Childe should at this point look like this

and Diluc. And Signora. Like I get that these are like low quality delusions, so effect is worse, but you can’t be like wow Teppei turned 90 in 2 days and Diluc stayed babyfaced after 4 years.

second, how is that no one noticed Teppei aging 20 years after each fight. Like it had to happen in front of other soldiers.

And like, why change the mechanics at all?? You use delusion, you get burst of power and take huge hit to the health, that’s it. Low quality delusions take more out of your health, so people using them die faster. They don’t need to age faster at the same time.So that’s mechanics I’m using here.

Anyway, while swordfishes discuss delusions finding (and Xena loudly condemns them), camera shows Teppei being quiet, kinda sus and looking away

Kokomi Mini-Arc\ Swordfish Bonding

we go back and report to kokomi. She’s distraught. The battle is so soon and she doesn’t know what to do!

from pure strategic, emotionless perspective to win the battle she needs to take fatui’s money and close her eyes at some soldiers using delusions. She can trade their lives for the voctory

But as a Watatsumi leader who cares about her people she cannot do that!

Traveler comforts her, but leaves without any obvious decision made and with a heavy heart.

the night before battle, we gather at campfire with the swordfishes

everyone is kinda doom and gloom bc it’s obvious Rebellion doesn’t stand a chance

Traveler stands up and makes a motivational speech about fighting together, about how they’ve faced seemingly impossible odds before and prevailed, bc everyone worked together, like with Ossail fight

Xena suddenly stands up to support us, she’s like yeah, I didn’t believe in you before, but now I see you’re worth it, Captain!

everyone cheers, Xena punches Teppei into shoulder and he almost falls over like “Even this narukami nerd is not as bad as I thought haha!”

Final Rebellion Battle

So, cinematic cutscene. Sara on one side with obviously more soldiers. Kokomi and Gorou with rebellion on the other side. Traveler is with the Swordfishes and Teppei. Kokomi and Sara shjare some snappy banter.

mb there’s a duel, but only if combat designers can figure out way to make it cool. Traveler whacking NPC in a row who can do nothing back with a sword 5 times in a row like in canon is fucking boring. Mb incorporate like challenge with Inazuma mechanics like the thunder zoomies or smth.

the battle begins. Rebellions fights fiercely, close ups of our swordfishes.

Teppei is fighting Surprisingly Good For Him. Xena comments on this and he beams up

but the difference in numbers is too much. Rebellions starts being overwhelmed, and then!

Suddenly Beidou and the mercs join the battle! Kazuha is here too. Traveler looks worriedly at Kokomi, does this mean that she’s accepted Fatui’s bloody money??

But Kokomi smiles back. No, she’s had another trump up her sleeve

trail of snowflakes runs through the ground and suddenly, Ayaka appears on the battlefield.

animation cutscene plays, Ayaka is shown in the past, after Traveler leaves, feeling restless and trapped in the estate. She’s still reeling from Yoimiya’s words and the fact that she couldn’t even help Thoma herself. She feels powerless, a pretty helpless figurehead princess that she didn’t want to be

letter from Kokomi arrives, telling about Rebellion’s dire situation and asking if Ayaka can help

Ayaka is in turmoil, she wants to help so bad, but she can’t steal money from Yashiro commission, that’d be stealing from people of Inazuma!

She glances at her dancing fan and suddenly, a solution comes to her.

Looking determined, she goes to the Kamisato estate treasury and opens the chest of her parents’ inheritance

She sells some of her family heritage jewels and silks to get the money, deciding to use the same privilege that kept her trapped to finally help people

she also officially announces that she’ll be in religious solitude meditation ritual or smth and instead sneaks off and travels to Watatsumi

she’s wearing that carnival mask that hoyo puts on models when they want to do “disguise”. Listen, if Diluc doesn’t get recognized in this gay little mask, then it can work for Ayaka too

anyway, animation ends with Ayaka springing from the ground on the battlefield and starting her burst, which transitions to her in-game burst animation

Her burst shreds through Tenryou forces.

Ayaka freeze with Kokomi and Kazuha is one of the best meta teams. Sara realizes it’s fucking JOVER for this battle and calls retreat.

Teppei death \ Delusion factory

Rebellion overjoices, Traveler and the swordfishes hug or whatever our animation department can handle in celebration, when suddenly!

Teppei falls down! Everyone gathers around and see delusion roll over from his hand!

oh no! He says he secretly picked up delusion from the fatui camp we cleared during investigation. This is why he’s fought so well today.

We tell him that he shouldn’t have done it, the fool!

He says he wanted to be useful. He just wanted to finally be one of the rebels!

Xena sits down next to him and says “You were already one of us.”

He dies holding her hand, with all comrades all around, instead of alone behind a shed like a sick housecat

Gorou and Kokomi walk up.Kokomi says that this is exactly why she refused Fatui’s help, but this happening even to one of the soldiers is a tragedy

Traveler and Swordfishes of course demand revenge. But we don’t know where the delusions are coming from! we already cleared fatui camps we knew of, we just don’t have any new leads!

Kujou Sara who watched this scene from afar suddenly speaks up

She has intel about possible location of Fatui factory, that she didn’t have time to explore. It’s on Tenryuo territory, but she’s willing to let Traveler pass. Fatui betraying and harming Inazuma people like this is unacceptable to her, even if they are enemies for now.

We’re like but can we trust her?? What if she just captures us?

Kokomi has long eye contact with Sara. It’s very Yuri.

She finally says “No, we can trust Kujou Sara’s honor”

Sara only lets Traveler pass, so we have a scene of swordfishes wishing us luck and then we leave

Delusion factory quest goes the same. It’s okay, again, not fixing what’s not broke.

We confront Scara, he rants about mortals being bubbles, blah blah

The only dialogue change is when he bullshits about like oh, these mortals are weak and useless, of course they have to pay for power, Traveler argues that Teppei was already useful, he helped with the camp in a way others couldn’t, and he didn’t have to die to prove anything or “pay” for power

Otherwise it goes the same, Traveler passes out, Yae shows up to trade the gnosis

we’re moving to the Act 3!

PART 3

#rhine talks #genshin impact #inazuma ranting

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katmaatui · 5 months

Note

why do people still spread around that yellow is a gl’s weakness if it hasn’t been for like… a while according to some gl fans

Is there a comic that i missed? is it just a weakness that hasn’t been remembered in a while?

Tldr: The yellow weakness has not existed since the establishment of Kyle Rayner as the singular Green Lantern back in 1994.

A brief history of the Green Lantern ring’s yellow weakness

The yellow weakness was introduced in the same issue as Hal: Showcase #22. According to Abin Sur, the former Green Lantern of sector 2814, “once you have the battery you will have power over everything–except what is yellow!” From this point onward, Green Lantern comics would not let you forget this fact with almost every issue saying some variation of “Editor’s note: due to a necessary impurity, Green Lantern’s ring is powerless over anything yellow!” This explanation is similar to one presented in Green Lantern: Emerald Dawn (1990), the post-crisis rewrite of Hal Jordan’s origin with one major change, discussed below.

While Green Lanterns cannot directly affect anything made of yellow (or surrounded by “an invisible yellow aura” such as the Shark), their constructs can indirectly affect yellow objects. For example, Hal would not be able to make a baseball bat to bat away a yellow cloud, but he would be able to make a fan to blow away the yellow cloud. In addition, because yellow is based on how it appears, various tricks are used to make yellow into green.

The yellow weakness is treated as a necessary and essential aspect of Green Lantern lore, and thus not questioned, until the psychodrama arc in Green Lantern (1960) #166 - 170. At this point in the timeline, Hal is well into his “space exile” arc, i.e. the time that the Guardians forbid him from returning to Earth for a year after he put his home life above his responsibilities as Green Lantern. The psychodrama was a way of testing Hal’s loyalty after Myrwhydden, a wizard trapped in Hal’s power ring, put him in a trance like state (Green Lantern (1960) #164). In this “psychodrama”, a rookie Green Lantern dies because her ring is unable to work against yellow. This, in addition to Green Lanterns learning that the Guardians had rings that could work against yellow and was withholding them for an unknown reason, caused several Green Lanterns to rebel against the Guardians. Hal is immediately against these rebel Green Lanterns -showing his utter devotion to the Guardians at this point. Eventually, the rings without a yellow weakness are revealed to make their users evil, and Hal proves his devotion to the Guardians, allowing him to exit the psychodrama. While the exact details are not necessary in this discussion, this is the first time that the yellow weakness is treated as not something completely necessary and more like a conscious choice on the side of the Guardians.

The yellow weakness especially became important at the end of Englehart’s Green Lantern Corps run (Green Lantern (1960) #201-224). At this point, the Green Lanterns agreed to execute Sinestro for genocide, but as they executed him, we learn that a billion years before the Guardians had made a pact that no Guardian or agent of the Guardians (aka the Green Lantern Corps) could murder a male Korugarian without the yellow impurity taking control of the Central Power Battery, causing the destruction of the Green Lantern rings, Oa, and eventually, the Universe itself. When the Green Lanterns execute Sinestro, the Green Lantern power battery almost becomes a black hole that would suck in the whole universe as the yellow impurity takes it over, but Hal Jordan enters the power battery and stops it from exploding.

Now, as I said earlier, in the mid 80s, there began to be question about the true essential nature of the yellow impurity, and this question became full on disbelief in the late 80s/early 90s. In Secret Origins (1986) #36, Hal says, “My ring has a built-in impurity—it won’t function on anything made of yellow! I suppose it’s a safeguard against any one Green Lantern becoming too powerful!” Hal very explicitly believes the yellow weakness was added to stop Green Lanterns from becoming too powerful and this is backed up by the events within the psychodrama and the flashback scenes in Green Lantern (1990) #19. In this issue, we see a flashback to a former Green Lantern of Sector 2814, a Green Lantern with no weakness at all-not to yellow like the corps, not to wood like Alan- who eventually went power-hungry. At this point, we see the wood weakness added to his ring, as the Guardians had already removed the yellow weakness as he was the Greatest Green Lantern of that time.

In the end of 1993/beginning of 1994, Emerald Twilight was published. This story made Hal a living conduit of the ring energy and established Kyle Rayner as the last Green Lantern. The idea that the Guardians added the yellow weakness is the implicit subtext within Kyle Rayner’s run. From issue 51 onward, we see Kyle’s ring is different from the former Green Lantern rings; it has no 24 hour limit, it does not automatically protect the user, and most importantly for this discussion, it does not have a weakness to yellow.

There are a few different theories for why, in universe, this change happened. The most well-support theories are that

A.) Ganthet removed the yellow weakness while reforming the ring, so that the new user would have a chance against Hal.

B.) The Parallax entity leaving the central power battery, and taking root within Hal, caused the necessary impurity to no longer be necessary.

However, the actual reason for the change in universe does not change the fact that the yellow weakness was not necessary, it was imputed as a form of control, and it caused people to die. The yellow weakness has not existed since 1994, outside of flashbacks, but it is still an interesting aspect of Green Lantern history when not reduced to banana jokes.

The reason people still bring it up is because no one reads Green Lantern comics but Green Lantern fans.

#my brief history is 1k words by the way #Ask Reply #Anon Reply #Hal Jordan #Green Lantern #Red's Work

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nostalgebraist · 3 months

Text

Here are some fun / amusing / potentially-interesting facts about the process of writing and plotting Almost Nowhere, if anyone's curious.

Major spoilers for the whole of Almost Nowhere under the cut.

(There's really no way to spoiler-censor this material without rendering it incomprehensible. If you haven't read the book, do that first before reading this post.)

(1)

A large fraction of the book's eventual plot emerged from my attempts to patch a single, in-some-sense trivial continuity error I made while writing the very first chapter.

The Mooncrash section of that chapter ends with this sentence (emphasis added):

All parties were used to stillness, now, for the Mooncrash was nearly four years old.

And a few paragraphs later, in the opening of the Academy section, we get this (emphasis added again):

For (as everyone knows) the Shroud is upon us and while it tolerates the Academy — as it presently is, as it has been for the last eight years, a chrysalis, preparing itself step by minuscule step [...]

So: The Mooncrash is 4 years old. The Academy crash is at least 8 years old, and indeed older.

Yet the Mooncrash is also as old as the crash system itself! It was made by humans, during the period between the discovery of the anomalings and the mass-crashing of the human race. (This is only shown in the second chapter, but I had it in mind before then.)

How long has the human race been crashed, then? At most 4 years, and at least 8 years? How could that possibly be?

It would have been easy enough to just edit the chapter, but that's not how I do things. Restrictions, famously, breed creativity. I enjoy attempting to solve puzzles I have inadvertently created for myself, and many of my best ideas have been produced through this process.

It would also have been simple and easy to merely say: "OK, I guess time elapses at different subjective rates, in different crashes."

Amusingly, I ended up doing that anyway! But for some reason, this avenue didn't occur to me at first. By the time I started asking myself whether to include this kind of effect, I already had a different solution in mind.

I spent a lot of time beating my head against the figurative wall, trying to resolve the 4-vs-8-year issue. The early parts of my AN notes are full of this stuff.

----

At some early point, I came up with the idea that the anomalings/shades would deal with troublesome crashes by "rebasing" them, rewriting their histories.

I didn't intend, initially, for this idea to take over the plot as much as it eventually did. It was just a fun idea that underscored the huge power differential between the anomalings and their captives, and felt in line with the Cartesian/Wachowskian themes of transcending a "fake"/illusory world, radically doubting one's own perceptions and memories, etc.

But, having stipulated that "rebases" were a thing, I hit upon the idea that they could be used to modify the total quantity of past (subjective) time inside a crash -- turning 8 years into 4, or vice versa, or whatever.

So, I could fix the problem by stipulating that one -- or both -- of the problematic crashes had already been rebased, in this way.

But why? And by whom?

----

Now, at this early stage, I also had the idea in mind that the character "Anne" would eventually escape from her crash, and that she would have a hand in various major events in the story -- including some events that had already occurred, relative to the "present" of the textual PoV.

But I didn't know, yet, what these interventions actually were.

(I put "Anne" in quotes, here, because in the very early stages I casually assumed that only the PoV Anne introduced in Chapter 1 would be a major character, and that her sisters were merely background material for her personal narrative, like the tower itself. Of course, in the process of thinking through the details of things, I realized that this assumption was needless and indeed counterproductive.)

As often happens when I'm plotting a story, I found that two unknowns slotted neatly into one another, each one providing a potential solution to the problem posed by the other.

We need something for "Anne" to do in the past. Something consequential, something that shows off her newfound agency -- but also something that obscures her role from view. Ideally, something kind of weird, esoteric, "advanced"; something that feels buried inside the deep, dark center of the backstory, which the reader will only "excavate" at the end of a long, strange journey.

And we need someone to rebase the Mooncrash.

That answers the "who?" question. But again -- why?

Well, it was already in the plan that Azad would join forces with Michael, when Michael went in search of his lost Anne. That Anne would meet Azad, as a result, and that it would be Azad who persuades her to return to Michael's crash.

I didn't, at the time, have much else planned for the Anne-Azad connection.

As originally conceived, the "Azad convinces Anne to return" scene was about Azad's uncertain loyalties, and about Anne's lack of exposure to other human beings (and to the power of words, as deployed by human beings with access to real human culture). That is, it merely served specific, separate purposes in the sub-stories of these two characters. There was no intent to set up, or develop, a thread connecting these sub-stories, making Azad a major character in Anne's arc and vice versa.

But that seems like kind of a shame, doesn't it? Why go to the trouble of preparing these characters, and bringing them into contact, if I didn't have anything for them to do together?

Anne and Azad.

We need someone to rebase the Mooncrash.

We need Anne to learn about real human culture, somehow, before she leaves. I knew that, already, though I didn't have a mechanism in mind.

(I also knew, by this point, that causing Azad's appointment as translator was another one of "Anne's" consequential moves. I had conceived of this, at first, as a relatively impersonal act, done only for its historical significance. Indeed, that would have been enough -- but the more the merrier, theme/motivation-wise.)

Problems paired up, interlocked, and became each others' solutions.

(1b)

As is obvious from the above, I didn't have the scenario planned out in very much detail when I wrote the first chapter.

At the time, the story had been gestating in my head for a while, but only as a bunch of vague inklings and intentions.

The proximate cause of writing-the-first-chapter was a sudden and unexpected burst of inspiration. I was riding the bus to a social event, and suddenly my mind was awash with crisp, never-before-glimpsed details about Anne and her tower, the Mooncrash, the Academy, Cordelia's blue dress -- all the stuff of Chapter 1. It felt like a crucial message was being beamed into my brain, VALIS-style, from the Muse / Higher Power.

I had an urge to bail on the social event, turn around, ride back home, and start writing immediately -- what if the magic went away, as suddenly as it had arrived? I resisted that urge and made a perfunctory appearance at the event, but then went back home and wrote as much as I could before falling asleep.

So, when I was writing that chapter, stuff like "four years" and "eight years" wasn't based on any single coherent picture, just vibes and vague inklings.

(I think 4 years probably sounded like the right amount of time for G&A to have been in the Mooncrash, character-wise. Meanwhile, Hector's ascension from the Academy had to be long enough ago that there would be no direct overlap between Hector and any of the current students. The "Bad Old Days" had to feel like something you'd only hear about in rumors, or from authority figures who probably weren't telling the full story.)

(2)

Like TNC before it, Almost Nowhere was originally conceived as relatively simple and straightforward story, only to become something much weirder and more complicated as I fleshed out the details.

As I said above, I only had a very vague "plan" at the outset of the writing process. But I kinda knew where I was going with it, in very broad strokes.

The original arc, insofar as it existed at all, was something like:

The bilateral / anomaling tension is introduced.

The bilateral PoV characters come to an understanding of their situation.

Many of the bilateral PoV characters join up with Hector Stein, who is already trying to defeat the anomalings and free humanity from the crashes.

Azad temporarily sides with the anomalings, and Anne temporarily returns to her captive state. But both them "come around" eventually.

Anne eventually triumphs over Michael, delivers a dramatic monologue castigating him for imprisoning her (etc.), and mounts a successful escape.

Shortly after Anne's escape, some (TBD!) resolution to the main conflict is achieved. Whatever it is, it is proposed/spearheaded by the bilateral faction (and specifically Anne herself), and it somehow exemplifies "the bilateral way of thinking/being."

The humbled anomalings conclude that "the bilateral way of thinking/being" has its advantages, both practically and morally.

So the story, as originally conceived, was much more straightforwardly about the "good" PoV humans fighting back against aliens.

It unabashedly took the bilateral side in the conflict, and it ended with a "beauty of our weapons" sort of moment in which the bilaterals are both victorious and righteous, and in which these two kinds of success are closely linked and almost merged.

I have to imagine that, even in counterfactual worlds where some things went differently, I never would have stuck to this version of the story all the way through.

Because, one way or the other, I would have eventually realized that.. like... this version of the story kind of sucks, right?

I mean, why go to the trouble of introducing these aliens, and trying to make them interesting, only to say "nah, actually these guys were just wrong, it's us and our existing 'ordinary' pre-conceptions that are right, and that's what the story was about all along"?

It would have been "inventing a guy to be mad at," as the saying goes.

Not a great foundation for a story. And the least interesting possible direction to go in, given this kind of setup.

It also presents a seemingly unresolvable tension, for the writer, about how to portray the distinctively "bilateral" nature of the bilateral side in the conflict.

If "bilateral" is as broad a category as the anomalings say it is -- if you and I and all of us, whatever other qualities we possess, participate equally in this sin -- then it's hard to strike a note of emotional triumph around the quality of "bilaterality" that doesn't feel wrong, vacuous, or bloodlessly abstract.

"Woo, yeah, humans are great!" I mean, are they? All of them? You don't get to say "well, only the good ones," here, or "in their ideals if not always their acts," or anything like that. Everyone is included in the relevant category, except for the guys-who-aren't that were invented for this specific story.

It's difficult to make this land properly, in the same way it would be difficult to write a story that inspires "carbon-based life pride" or "having-DNA pride" or the like in its reader.

So this version of the story was dead on arrival. And indeed, by the time I was thinking through the stuff chronicled in (1) above, this version of the story felt like a provisional placeholder, at best, in my mind.

Nonetheless, there are various echoes of it in the story I eventually landed on.

For example, in the original version of "Anne's" escape -- conceived in a much more straightforwardly positive way -- I had Anne reading "real" books in secret, drawing moral strength from them, and then including a bunch of literary quotes in her big dramatic monologue to Michael. (I took inspiration, here, from John the Savage reading Shakespeare in Brave New World.)

And I had the idea that "Anne," being an autodidact, would read omnivorously without making culture-bound distinctions familiar to you and me; that her selection of quotes, in the monologue, would put low culture alongside high culture, infamous books alongside famous ones, etc.; and as a particular case, that it'd be fun if -- before going on to quote Shakespeare and co. -- she began the whole thing by quoting Ayn Rand.

And that one idea stuck, even if the rest of it didn't.

(Or, consider how the idea of "a powerful move in the conflict that exemplifies the bilateral way of thinking/being" actually crops up multiple times in the finished story, right up to its last scenes. One can see traces of it in the "trick" that obsesses Michael, in the use of autobiographical writing to build up nostalgium, and in Annabel's improved crash design.)

(3)

I came up with the Mirzakhani Mechanism relatively late, in between writing Chapter 13 and writing Chapters 14-15 (in which the MM is introduced).

The MM was a product of looking back at the sci-fi elements that already existed in the story, like crashes and rebases, and trying to invent some single underlying explanation that covered all of them in a relatively parsimonious way.

This basically "worked," I think -- it certainly worked better than I had been expecting, after playing the dangerous game of "write a bunch of weird stuff and hope you'll be able to explain it all later." (I remember talking to one reader who was shocked that I hadn't had the MM in mind from the very beginning, which was flattering.)

It also had unintended consequences that kinda took over the story, but largely in a good way.

Earlier, I had planned to have the post-rebase crash timelines "screened off" from the outside world somehow, so that rebasing a crash wouldn't mess up the timeline of the outside world. But, once I'd fixed the idea that "rebasing is an MM event" in place, I realized that this wasn't consistent with the way MM events were meant to work. Instead, the exposition in Ch. 15 directly implies the stuff about rebases that Grant realizes much later in Ch. 41.

Once I'd noticed this, it was obvious that it was extremely important, and I re-incorporated it into the broader plot.

On a related note, I eventually decided that the account of the anomalings "going backward in time to our era" in Ch. 15 didn't really make sense. This meant I needed a different, more viable way anomalings and bilaterals to exist at the same point in time.

This line of thought, along with several others (like "what happened to all the nonhuman organisms?" and "which parts of the MM multiverse are real?"), eventually led me to invent Everywhere-Heaven and the beasts.

That happened right at the start of 2022, between Chapters 21 and 22.

It quickly became clear that the E-H/beasts stuff could be put to a lot of valuable use in story's third act, which was largely a worrying blank space in my head (even at this point!). From thereon out, I worked on fleshing out the third act behind the scenes while writing the second.

Not coincidentally, Chapter 22 contains a ton of E-H-related foreshadowing, and also some hints that human scientists (like Aidan in Ch. 15) had never fully understood the anomalings.

The use of Maryam Mirzakhani, a real (and recently deceased) mathematician, was a weird choice and arguably one in poor taste. All I can really say in defense of it is that it came to me suddenly, and had a number of properties that fit the vibe of the part of the story in which it appeared, and I have a policy of "going with my gut" when it suggests such things to me.

I felt similarly about this choice and another thing introduced in Ch. 15, the nuclear attack intended to kill scientists. Both of these things underscored the fact that the story took place in an alternate reality. And both felt sort of "edgy," "too dark," "too close to the real world" compared to the tone of the story so far. But I wanted to take the story to new places in the coming acts -- "darker," "more real" places -- and something felt right about introducing these elements at this exact point, as signposts providing an indication of where things were headed.

(4)

The phrase "NOWHERE TO HIDE" was originally "NO MERCY," in my notes.

And the abbreviation "NM" for "NO MERCY" was used throughout my notes for Nowhere-To-Hide related stuff, e.g. "NM Annes."

This wasn't the product of much thought, just the first thing that came to mind that had roughly the correct vibe. I almost immediately concluded that I'd have to replace "NO MERCY" with something else in the work itself, since it would seem like an Undertale reference that I didn't intend to make.

"Moon" was originally just a placeholder name -- a shorthand for "the 'NM Anne' who rebased the Mooncrash." But I liked the idea of actually using it, once it had occurred to me.

The corresponding placeholder name for A11 was "Ling," as in "linguist" (but also an actual name).

(5)

I went through 3 different outlines of the third act.

Really, there was a first outline, which was really bad, and then there were two slightly-different versions of a very different outline that mostly corresponds to the finished draft.

The first, bad outline was amusingly titled "notes-satisfying-ending.txt", because I explicitly used this post about "satisfying endings" as a guideline while writing it.

(To be clear, I don't think the linked post was to blame for the badness of that first outline. I didn't ultimately find the post very helpful as writing advice, but the "satisfying ending" outline wasn't even a "satisfying ending" in the post's own terms, and was also bad in unrelated ways.)

I don't want to go into much detail about the bad outline. It was really bad, and also really different from what eventually occurred. It's honestly a pretty embarrassing document.

A lot of the key ideas were there (E-H, etc.), and the very end of the story was roughly the same. But it had a ton of needless flaws that I later corrected. Various existing character arcs and motivations were dropped and never picked up, or suddenly diverted in some new and unfruitful direction; way too much time was spent on getting characters and objects from point A to point B, or otherwise sort of rambling about in a way that didn't matter in the end; it included a lot of whimsical "fun ideas" that weren't necessary and would have added clutter to an already very full canvas; etc.

I never got to the point of building a chapter-by-chapter version of this outline, but I'm sure it would have much longer than the existing third act, also.

The existing third act is pretty long, but it was actually the result of an aggressive pruning and tightening process.

If the "satisfying-ending" outline had a single greatest flaw, it was terrible pacing. Lots of slack, lots of empty space, and when big things did happen, they came out of nowhere, not really prompted by what came immediately before them.

The next draft of the ending resulted from taking the raw materials of "satisfying-ending," purging all the dross, re-thinking all the obviously flawed stuff, and then trying to rearrange the pieces in front of me in a way that was maximally "tight" and interconnected, with questions and tensions introduced and then resolved in a rapid-fire manner, and without any major thread "sitting around in the background" long enough to feel stale, or get forgotten.

That outline was in a file called "notes-good-end.txt."

Much later, I tightened up the plan even further, merging some things that were originally in separate chapters. This was in a file called "notes-true-end.txt", and -- true to its name -- was the version reflected in the book itself.

So there was "satisfying-ending," which sucked; "good-end," which was good; and "true-end," which was slightly better.

(I realize the multiplicity of the ending, and the account of deliberate "tightening" etc., is in apparent tension with my recent account of working by direct inspiration.

There are a few things I can say about this tension.

For one, it really is true that the third act of AN was more deliberately reasoned-out, and less directly-inspired, than some of the earlier stuff. This is kind of inevitable: you don't get to do anything after an ending, that's what an ending is, and so you have to deliberately try to make the final act of a story fully work as a thing unto itself, rather than writing checks in the hope of cashing them at some later point.

And separately, I do think the final version of the ending feels "more real," "more true to the work" than the satisfying-ending draft.

I think I was aware, even while composing "satisfying-ending," that it felt off and wrong in some ways. But it was only after going through the exercise of creating a complete ending -- some sort of complete ending -- that I was able to look back and say "OK, this fits, but this doesn't fit," and distill something that actually felt right.)

#almost nowhere

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hopelessrromantix · 10 months

Text

Part 2 to this

Miguel had first met you a very long time ago.

By then, he was Spiderman, seeking out one of your partners they'd gone slightly rogue.

The only thing he hadn't realized then, was that your project had affected you too, creating a symbiote that attached itself to you.

After many encounters in and out of your suits, you and Miguel got along surprisingly well.

Until you'd sacrificed yourself for him. Sure he was alive, but he always regretted not knowing you better.

And when he found a universe where he was happy, he got to see your face again.

An alternate version of yourselves had gotten both your powers under control. You started a family, adopted a daughter, and settled down to have a normal life.

Until he replaced his dead self.

At first it was… nice.

Not just being with his daughter, but you too.

He regretted not knowing you even more after that. His life picked up where his alternate self had left off.

And when everything came crashing down, you let him carry your daughter. He could see the mix of pain and shock in your eyes as you faded away, breaking apart into nothing.

Soon, Miguel was alone again.

And now, in an alternate world, you were Spiderman. He should've expected it, really.

"You should leave, Y/n." Lyla imitated, puffing up her chest and placing her hands on her hip. Miguel didn't expect her glare to be so effective.

He only rolled his eyes, walking back toward his computer.

"See, that's my impression of you saying something dumb." Miguel stayed quiet, swiping through data he'd left open, organizing his space. "You didn't even answer when he asked if you knew him. What's going on with you? We both know you wanted to talk to him."

Miguel's eyes narrowed. "It's not that simple. I'm dead in his world and he's dead in mine, we can't go rewriting history and destroying Y/n's Canon."

"Oh please," She scoffed. "Forget the 'High and Mighty' schtick, trying experiencing emotion for, like, two seconds and talk to him."

Miguel whipped his head toward her, but she had already disappeared, probably anticipating his argument.

He let out a heavy sigh into the stagnant air. He missed you more than he wanted to admit, even if he never got to know you nearly as well as he wanted.

For days, Miguel attempted to process the conversation.

You hadn't come to find him since he'd told you to leave days before, but he'd seen you around. You usually blended into the crowd right after, making him feel slightly guilty about telling you to leave.

He just brushed it off, going back to his work.

You, on the other hand, had no such plans.

Miguel was stubborn as an ox, but you weren't about to give up just because he asked you to leave.

If there was any hope he'd hear you out, you'd be willing to take the risk.

"What are you doing here?"

A question you expected to get. It was so much harder to answer when he was staring at you.

"Any chance we could talk?" You asked, half expecting him to close the door right there.

To your surprise, he stepped back, leading you into his (oddly dark) workspace.

"Let me j-"

"I wanted t-"

You both froze, hearing the other speak. You chuckled, gesturing to him.

He sighed, taking a breath. "I wanted to apologize."

"You did?" You blinked at him. Apologies weren't Miguel's thing (unless you made it clear you expected one)... maybe he was more different than you thought.

Miguel's expression was stiff, his mind still focused on you. "When you were alive, I didn't know you as well as I wanted to."

He watched your face shift, first in confusion, then in understanding.

You didn't need to hear it all right now. Or maybe he just wasn't ready to tell you.

But either way… "I'd like to get to know you now."

"Yeah! Yeah, I'd like that too." You agreed, nodding your head before remembering why you'd come in the first place. "I'm sorry for springing everything on you. I mean, it's a lot all at once… I didn't mean to force you to talk to me."

He nodded slowly. "You didn't. I… I want to do this."

"You do?" You asked again. Whether to be certain or just to hear him say it again, you didn't know.

"Yes."

And you felt truly, unashamedly happy for the first time in far too long.

#male reader #dom male reader #top male reader #miguel o'hara x male reader #miguel ohara x male reader #miguel x male reader #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #atsv

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mackjlee9 · 1 year

Text

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Male!Reader [Angst&Fluff]

Warning; typical cod violence, mentions of death, reader speaks Spanish, my cod theory for og mw2, code name is night because I'm too dumb to think of something better, reader is kind of a medic for tf-141, medical inaccuracies, kinda messy narrative/plot.

Masterlist.

Hopefully, this is good enough 😬

Ever since (M/n) joined the Task Force 141 team and met the masked man named Ghost, this recurrent nightmare has plagued his dreams, leaving him shaking, crying, and restless for the rest of the night until he felt reassured that no one was hurt.

For months, the same nightmare repeated itself.

They arrive at the site, get ambushed by the enemy, secure the data from the safe house, and get betrayed by Shepherd when the extraction team arrives.

At first, (M/n) would also be killed, along with Roach and Ghost, the bullet wound feeling like a grace when their bodies were set on fire, leaving them there while he hears Price's voice through the communication device in his ear.

But with time, as the same pattern kept repeating itself, corrupting (M/n)'s sleep, he began being able to take control of his actions and rewrite history.

For days- weeks, (M/n) failed to save them both at the same time, and inevitably, he would also end up dying due to the enemy fire, but not this time. He refused to fail again. He was tired of being unable to sleep- of being afraid because of a nightmare.

Waking up from it was painful, and because of it, (M/n) started growing attached to Ghost, always following him around and making sure he was out of lethal danger when out on missions.

Of course, Ghost found that annoying at first, constantly looking like a lost puppy while trailing behind him, but whenever he was having a hard time, be it during a mission or at the base, he knew (M/n) would always be with him, silently taking care of him. He grew used to it even though he knew he shouldn't blindly trust someone so easily.

That night, after getting the intel from El Sin Nombre about the missile, they regrouped and slept for a few hours before starting the mission. Through the whole time Graves was in their team back at Las Almas, he was wary, knowing Shadow Company was under Shepherd's command.

It was dumb really, not trusting his teammates because of something that didn't even happen in the first place. But something about that nightmare told (M/n) to believe it. How? It may have been some parallel universe, his past self telling him to save himself, save Roach... To save Simon Riley from Shepherd's betrayal.

And with that, (M/n) has never trusted Shepherd again, and he didn't trust Shadow Company as they were an added asset to their small team.

And right as he fell asleep, it happened.

Stumbling his way on the grass while holding tightly onto the lone of one of the enemy trucks, watching with blurry eyes how the executions occurred again, hearing Price's voice, telling them to not trust Shepher, hearing the desperation in his voice made tears fill (M/n)'s eyes, but he quickly blinked them away.

(M/n) watched with hatred how Graves poured gasoline on them and as if in slow motion, he saw Shepherd throw his cigar on their weak, wounded bodies. He crawled as fast yet quietly as he could, watching them retreat to their helicopter, and soon as they were out of range, (M/n) ran to them and placed the lone on them, mitigating the flames to prevent lethal burns.

He took off his tactical gear, rid with bullets, and dropped it on top of them, keeping the lone in place with the heavy bulletproof vest, and he grabbed their vests, dragging them to the woods, hiding in the tall grass, being covered by the trees.

Keeping himself low and steady, (M/n) saw and heard enemies approaching before leaving, reaching for his radio, (M/n) tried to put pressure on Ghost's wound, "Captain," he said quietly, helping Roach stay awake, his hand pressing under his vest where the bullet was. He was trying so hard to keep them alive.

"Sergeant! Are you okay?" (M/n) took a deep breath and tried to fight back the tears, he still didn't know if Ghost will make it out of this one alive.

Swallowing the knot in his throat, (M/n) responded back. "I'm okay, but Roach and Ghost need medical attention immediately," with those words, Price called for an extraction helicopter with medics to (M/n)'s position, reassuring the Sergeant that help was on the way.

Roach had managed to stay unconscious and was keeping as much pressure on the wound as he could, resting against the nearest tree and signaling (M/n) to help their Lieutenant instead.

He focused on trying to wake up Ghost, occasionally glancing at Roach to make sure he wouldn't pass out. Hurriedly, he took off Ghost's sunglasses and balaclava, leaning close to his face, hearing and feeling his slow, short breathing, and something in (M/n) seems to have found peace, such a great peace that made him cry.

"Simon... wake up, please, for the love of God, wake up," he mumbled to himself, trying to shake him away, gently tapping his face while leaving his blood-covered hand on his bleeding wound, and somehow, by some kind of miracle, he opened his eyes.

"(M/n)...?" He smiled at Ghost and gently stroked his face, "W-what-? Sh-Shepherd-!"

"Is okay, is okay, he's gone," he softly said, preventing him from sitting up, "Try to stay with me, Simon, c'mon," after that, the incoming pilot needed to know the exact location, so groaning, (M/n) took a smoke flare for his vest and threw it far enough for the pilot to spot, and soon, help arrived.

Two medics rushed out and scouted the area until they spotted the three men hiding in the shadows of the trees. They ran toward them and helped Roach up, taking him to the helicopter while another group of two came out with a stretcher, soon carrying Ghost to the helicopter, and (M/n) followed close behind them, his vest in his hand as they take off.

(M/n) watches how the medics stabilize and clean Roach and Ghost's wounds. Now, he finally relaxes, knowing he changed history...

Even if it only was the history of a dumb, meaningless nightmare that put him through so much pain and guilt.

No one commented on how tired yet relieved (M/n) looked when he woke up, they just got ready to carry on with the mission and stop the missile.

//////

Well, (M/n) kinda wished he wasn't right.

He got off of the back of the jeep as they arrived at Alejandro's base, and he immediately knew something was off.

"I'm calling Shepherd," Soap said turning around and heading back to the jeep, but Graves' words stopped him.

"General Shepherd sends his regards, he told me y'all wouldn't take this well," keeping an eye out for any Shadow soldiers, (M/n) reached his hand to grab his SMG that he left on one of the empty seats, and pretty soon, things got nasty.

With gritted teeth, (M/n) shot a few Shadows coming his way while running to cover. He kept an eye on Ghost and Soap as much as he could, earning him a shot on his left thigh, making him wince and grip tightly on his gun. The bastard that shot him got close to him, trying to finish him, but (M/n) was quick to grip his knife, knocking the weapon off his hands and piercing the skin of his throat with the sharp blade.

He used the man's dead body as a shield and with scary accuracy, he threw the knife at the man that had knocked Alejandro unconscious.

But even if he wanted to help the rest of the team, the enemies were closing in on them, quickly outnumbering them, and they were only left to retreat and regroup somewhere safe.

Ghost, Soap, and he got separated, and left to deal with Shadows by themselves, but it was okay, they were more than capable of that.

//////

Finding a place to rest for a moment, (M/n) took the empty utility belt from his right thigh and used it to put pressure above the gushing bullet wound on his left thigh, ripping the long sleeve of his shirt and using it to stop the bleeding, holding in a hiss at the pain that had begun to numb his leg.

His hearing picked up the sound of static and he realized it came from his radio, and when he looked at it, he realized it was pretty much busted, but somehow was still alive, letting him hear Soap's voice followed by Ghost's, well, at least he knew they were alive.

Groaning, (M/n) stood up from the wet ground and gripped onto his gun tightly, reaching for the suppressor in the pocket of his vest, attaching it to his SMG, and feeling around the pockets, realizing he only had a spare magazine, so he had to make his shots count.

"-A church... RV there-" Ghost's voice was cut off, but at least, (M/n) now knew where to head.

Well, kind of.

He sneaked around as quickly and swiftly as he could, taking out Shadows easier thanks to the suppressor on his gun, sneaking in a few knives kills and staying in the shadows, letting them pass when they were too many or were distracted shooting civilians.

Every now and then, the static of his radio would get his attention, relaxing him as he knew his two closest friends were still kicking ass. And he heard the smallest bit of a conversation that got his attention.

"Show-... face?" Ghost said, followed by Soap.

"Are-... ugly?" Well, he didn't have to be a genius to know what Soap had asked their Lieutenant.

"Quite- opposite," was all Ghost responded.

And that brought back the memory of seeing his face in his dream, but there was no way, that was just his imagination giving someone he cared for so dearly a face. He has never seen Ghost's face. Not that he cared either way.

But soon after, Shadows started running in the same direction, pulling away injured soldiers, and well, (M/n) put them out of their misery, but he also headed toward the same direction, because the only reason they would attack so aggressively would be because they found Ghost and Soap.

And hearing Shadows yelling 'it's them!' was a dead giveaway.

Limping, (M/n) moved through the houses, finding the quickest, safest way to both of them, seeing as he couldn't exactly run for long, and eventually, he found both of them right as Ghost climbed over the fence of the church.

They saw him before he got a chance to call for them.

"(M/n)!" Soap called him and stood by his side, helping him steady himself.

"I'm okay, Soap..." Ghost looked at them, but they heard Shadows approaching, so they really couldn't stay still for long.

"We need a vehicle, on me!" Running ahead, (M/n) reassured Soap that he could move by himself, and with no need to be quiet anymore, (M/n) grabbed an enemy's weapon and fired back, following both males close behind, "Pick up truck, ahead!"

"I see it!" Soap and he yelled, and while Ghost got on the driver seat and Soap took shotgun, (M/n) got on the back of the truck, keeping every Shadow soldier that got close to them at bay.

Of course, that didn't prevent Ghost from running them over, and that kinda made (M/n) chuckle.

"Get back!" (M/n) heard Soap yell, looking to his right where he saw an enemy falling to the ground, a few more behind him, and (M/n) shot them down since they were shooting at them, and soon Ghost drove off.

The whole ride was quiet, and (M/n) loosened the belt over his wound a little, feeling the lack of circulation affecting his leg, and he still had to take the bullet out, clean, and disinfect it... hopefully whenever they're going will have what he needs for it.

Thanks to the busted glass of the truck, (M/n) heard Ghost and Soap talking about Graves' betrayal, and how Shepherd was in on it right before the truck stopped, the light of dawn slowly illuminating their surroundings.

They got off the truck, and (M/n) winced when he put more weight than intended on his legs, walking past them as they grabbed their weapons and closed the truck doors.

"You can't be betrayed if you never trusted them," he said while walking ahead, soon stopping in front of the structure. (M/n) heard Ghost telling them that this was Alejandro's safehouse, and (M/n) looked at the ground, noticing the pressure plates by the entrance.

Spotting the window as a viable entrance, they made their way inside.

(M/n) stayed outside, keeping guard while waiting for Ghost, just in case.

"Don't move!" The Lieutenant's voice caught his attention, glancing up at him and soon hearing Rodolfo's voice.

(M/n) quickly climbed in with Ghost's help, carefully landing on his right foot.

"Night, que bueno verte," he nodded.

"Lo mismo digo, Rudy."

//////

After coming up with a plan to save Alejandro, everyone was getting stuff ready, and while that happened, (M/n) had found medical supplies and was tending to his wound.

He ripped his pant open just enough to have a better view of what he was working with. He got the bullet out and stitched the wound after cleaning and disinfecting it. He has never clenched his jaw as hard as he did just then, but the skin around the hole in his legs was pretty much numb, so sewing it was easier than expected.

While he was wrapping a clean bandage around it, Ghost came by, observing how he took care of his wound.

"Did you know? About Graves," (M/n) wasn't startled because he heard him walk up to him, so he just looked up at him, trying to maintain a stoic expression.

He couldn't tell Ghost he didn't trust Graves and Shepherd just because of a nightmare of him being shot by Shepherd, he would seem crazy and he needed to have a cool, leveled head at all times in the military, so he just shrugged at Ghost's question.

"No, but it felt... off, no puedo explicarlo, Ghost," he simply looked at (M/n) and nodded.

"Alright, I trust you, Sergeant."

He couldn't help the smile on his face at his superior's words, "Thank you, Lieutenant."

Ghost helped him stand up and (M/n) took the necessary stuff to help patch up Soap's wound, despite having the Scotsman refuse over and over again, saying he was fine.

//////

"I'm out. Watch for me," Ghost left the security room while Soap kept an eye on the CCTV feed, and (M/n) kept an eye out near the door, occasionally hearing Ghost's voice through the communicator followed by Soap's instructions.

A short while after, Rodolfo found Alejandro in solitary, and they followed Ghost's orders of meeting outside the cellblock.

On the way to Alejandro's cell, they were swarmed with Shadows trying to stop them, but to no avail, and they soon got to Alejandro, who almost broke Soap's face if it wasn't for Rudy stopping him.

The way back out wasn't easy either, with gunfire back and forth, they struggled against so many Shadow soldiers, but the sound of a helicopter got everyone's attention.

However, the enemy helicopter was soon shot down by an RPG, followed by Ghost saying Price was there.

They all ran to the wall where Price and Gaz were covering them from the enemy fire. They stood guard and downed Shadows, exploding their vehicles while the ropes were placed on the other side of the wall, and right after hearing Price's order, all of them got down.

In the sheep, Price told everyone what happened with Shepherd, Shadow Company, and the missiles, it was quick and direct, and without realizing it, (M/n)'s fatigue caught up to him, and he fell asleep on the sheep on the ride back to base.

That time, the nightmare was gone, but now, he was with Ghost in the base's infirmary instead of on the battlefield. He was watching over the unconscious male, his wound slowly but surely, healing. (M/n) saw Ghost waking up, and before he could realize what his body was doing, he leaned down to place a soft kiss on his lips, observing his eyes flutter open.

"You just kissed an unconscious person, Sergeant," (M/n) chuckled at his playful words, and he gently pushed his hair away from his face.

"I'm just happy you're alive, Simon."

Damn, he has never woken up as flustered as he was just now, right when the sheep stopped too, realizing he had fallen asleep on none other than Simon himself.

The masked male had been watching over (M/n), gently drying the tears that fell down his face, something (M/n) hadn't realized until Ghost pointed it out.

"The same nightmare?" He said in a soft voice, kinda weird coming from him, but his words made (M/n) remember the first few times he had to deal with that nightmare.

He would always wake up crying and he had to take a breather, walking out of his quarters to take some fresh air, and Ghost found him one time, asking him what was bothering him.

"A nightmare," was all he said, and Ghost hummed, standing next to him under the soft yellow glow of the lamp, feeling the cool breeze touching their exposed skin.

They stayed quiet for a few seconds, until Ghost broke it, "You wanna talk about it?" He asked gently, having a lot of experience when it came to having nightmares. Sometimes, forgetting them was easier than talking about them, but there was the rare occasion when talking about it was better than ignoring those ever happened.

(M/n) looked at him, chuckling when he saw him wearing a plain balaclava.

"No, I'm good, sir," after that, both of them said a quiet good night and went back to their respective rooms.

This kept happening a few more times, especially when he would wake up crying and covered in sweat. He would leave his room and quietly cry while the chill air messed with his clothes and hair, drying the tears that had fallen down his face. Ghost noticed how often this nightmare would make (M/n) up, and the Sergeant only said it was always the same one. The exact same one. So he didn't ask more, he just... stood there until they would leave back to bed.

(M/n) never told him mainly because he was embarrassed, and he thought it was just a bad dream, nothing else. And that brings him back to reality

"Not exactly, it was... a nice dream," he muttered while drying his tears himself, "I'm happy to have you as my Lieutenant, sir."

Ghost looked at him, seeing (M/n)'s eyes shining with something that made his heart race.

//////

This wasn't the first time...

It really wasn't.

(M/n) couldn't help but stare at Ghost with wide eyes when he saw him take his balaclava off.

He looked exactly like the Ghost in his dream, despite having never seen his face before. There's no way...

Maybe... it wasn't just a bad dream after all...

#ghost x male reader #simon riley x male reader #simon ghost riley x male reader #cod x male reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod mw2 x reader #male reader #reader insert #x reader #angst #fluff #.mackjlee9 writes

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webanglikethat · 4 months

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oh well … I just finished the episode and as a luke stan, this hurt in every single way and angle.

there’s a lot I could say (and I will) but I want to focus on how, during the confrontation Luke doesn’t act like your typical storybook villain. there's no malicious smirk, no sinister laughter, no scornful remarks about Percy's trust. there is no “I can’t believe you trusted me” or berating in any way. he doesn't belittle or exude confidence; instead, he stands devoid of arrogance, pleading.

he is there, and he’s begging him. he’s pleading him to understand. because they walked on the same path. they lost their mothers to a God. and sure, you could argue that Sally never described Poseidon as a monster and neither did May. but I wonder, to what extent can the love of a profound being envelop you without sculpting you into a poignant victim of its depth? “trust me I know” and it’s the second time Luke agrees when Percy talks about his mother. he knows, he’s been there. history - fate - is repeating itself. he can’t stop it, he tried with his mom. but he is still trying and trying and trying. he tried so desperately, to alter the narrative etched in the stars, to rewrite the script that destiny had penned. but it didn’t work back then. but maybe this time …?

when I say I’m thinking about the parallels between Percy and Luke I mean I am thinking about their relationships with their parents, with their mothers, with how their fathers left their mothers (albeit Poseidon’s actions didn’t make Sally go insane) and thinking about how everything Percy does is because of and for his mother and thinking about how Luke sees himself in Percy and thinking about how Luke never got to have the type of relationship with his mom that Percy has with his because of the gods and I’m thinking of how home is the first place you learn to run from, and how losing faith in your father is like losing faith in a God. but what when he’s both? and I think of how Percy almost lost his mom because of the gods. I think of their shared pain, one fighting for the love he has and the other for the love he lost.

and oh, the hesitancy to pull a sword on Percy. he still saw Percy as his brother. they could’ve been a family, all of them. him, Percy, Annabeth. they could’ve been one happy family, without the burden of their parents, the constant quests, the fighting, the dying.

because, imagine this. you are seventeen and coming back from a failed quest that your father tossed at you like trash, with a scar that will forever be imprinted on your face. the gods, once the pillars of your purpose, have now withdrawn their interest, rendering you a discarded pawn in their divine game. and the realization strikes like a thunderbolt – you are useless to them. you are useless. years of training and fighting and bleeding until you were on your knees, yet you are of no use to them. so who are you then? and despite all of this, the younger campers still look up to you. and you see it in their faces how they still yearn for a chance to embark on a quest themselves, to be chosen, to catch the fleeting attention of their unknown godly parent. and there you are as you realize that their highest aspirations are to put their lives at risk while running an errand for a parent that does not care and will never care. they hope that in death, they’ll get the recognition they didn’t get alive. and some souls, still to this day, yearn for the acknowledgment that eluded them in the realm of the living.

so truly, you can’t be mad at Luke for thinking “do the gods find pleasure in our begging? does the aroma of our need, our desire, our pleas, not reach the pantheon of the heavens, or do you simply choose to turn away?” because wouldn’t you be filled with fury too? wouldn’t you want a better world? wouldn’t you too be easy to manipulated by a titan?

he didn’t betray Percy, he wanted a better world for them both, for all of them. but Percy betrayed him the moment he mentioned his father, this mention became an unwitting weapon, inflicting a pain that would forever bleed. this cut deeper than his own scar. he could’ve had it all. but he lost it again. and why does no one understand him? someone please understand him. he’s not going insane, why can’t anyone else see it?

the gods, in their relentless whims, have cruelly drained the essence of their youth, offering hollow promises of glory that crumble into the tragic reality of sacrifice and unending celestial burdens. the gods are the ones who shattered it all, but they hate Luke Castellan. it’s always him, isn’t it? first he couldn’t achieve that damned quest and now he wasn’t able to save what mattered the most in the end. his family. again.

#and in this essay #JB is thinking about pjo #percy jackson #percy jackson series #pjo series #percy jackson disney+#percy jackson spoilers #pjo tv show #luke castellan #luke castellan apologist #pjo luke #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo show #percy jackson show

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