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t-wordy-kk · 2 years

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Things a Man Oughta Know

Look who finally returned!! I know I promised this last week, but I needed a little bit more time to develop the storyline. That being said, I hope to post a lot more this year and work on my time management a little bit better. Either way, I hope you all enjoy! I think I took out all of the pronouns indicating that the reader is a female, so I’m 99% sure this fic is completely gender-neutral towards the reader, other than the song lyrics. I also linked the song I used if anyone wants to take a listen! 💜

(Warnings: Minor bit of language towards the end, little bits of angst here and there, slow burn between Bucky & reader)

Word count: 3,443 (including song lyrics)

Based on the song by Laney Wilson

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

“Hey Y/N, how’s the packing going?” Bucky asked, walking into your room as you ran around, trying to find everything you needed.

He knew you were getting ready to leave on a camping trip with your new boyfriend, but something seemed off about the new one. You’ve been in failed relationships before, and it hurt him to see so many guys treating you wrong when you were the perfect one to be with.

I can hook a trailer on a two-inch hitch

I can shoot a shotgun, I can catch a fish

“I’m just looking for my-”

“Bait hooks?” Bucky asked in response, grabbing the box off of your dresser and tossing it over. “And here’s the extra box of your fishing line.”

“You know me so well,” you responded with a warm smile. “I know I say this every time I find someone, but I really feel like he’s the one. Every other guy has shown the wrong signs, and I never picked up on them, but this time, there’s nothing wrong that I can see. And I’ve probably seen everything at this point.”

“I’ve seen it all too,” Bucky added, love evident in his eyes. Ever since he met you, he wanted to be with you for the rest of his life. Your adventurous spirit, kindness towards others, you were a determined force that couldn’t be stopped, and he loved that about you. Although, he didn’t want to undermine anyone you found, even though he could tell there was something off about every single person you were with. So, he let you roam, knowing that you would never want to be tied down.

I can change a tire on the side of a road

Yeah, I know a few things a man oughta know

“Any big plans for this trip?”

“Oh, you know, just some regular outdoorsy stuff, like fishing, sitting by the fire, all of that good stuff. I’ve already got the trailer ready too, it’s gonna be great. Have a great weekend, Bucky,” You said, wrapping him in a hug, which he didn’t hesitate to return.

Bucky was always there for you, anytime things went south, he would always make you feel better, and you always appreciated it. Whether it was a lazy day with movies and ice cream while you tried to get over the latest guy who broke your heart, or someone willing to do all of the crazy things with you that nobody else would, he was the greatest person you ever met, but you never saw that he loved you the way he did.

“Just be safe Y/N. And if you need anything, I’m there in a heartbeat.”

How to know when it’s love

How to stay when it’s tough

Two days later, you made your way back to the compound, Bucky coming out to the driveway to greet you only to find you in tears.

“Hey, what happened?”

“H-he broke up w-with me Bucky, I don’t know w-what I did wrong.” Crying into his shoulder, he picked you up bridal style, carrying you into the compound so he could start trying to ease your mind. It hurt him to see you like this, knowing that it happened every time you met someone new. They’d act perfect, just to take advantage of your kindness and break your heart, over and over.

How to know you’re messing up a good thing

And how to fix it ‘fore it’s too late

“Is-”

“Yeah, the guy hurt Y/N. Just like every other one,” Bucky responded to Steve, who passed by in the hall and watched as you dozed off in Bucky’s arms, the slight rocking motion helping you drift off into a peaceful sleep after the mess of a weekend you had.

“This is the perfect way to spend the weekend, isn’t it Dan?” You softly said, leaning into his shoulder as you sat on the edge of the small dock near your campsite, casting your fishing line into the pond.

“Yeah, it really is,” He replied, a hint of emotion in his voice.

“Is everything okay? Something seems different.”

“I’m fine, it can wait until tomorrow.”

“No, I’m here to help, that’s my job as your person babe. What’s going on?” You asked, concern lacing your features as you released the fish that you caught.

“It’s just, oh, I feel like this isn’t working like it should. I know we’ve been together for 3 months, but this just isn’t what I imagined it to be.”

“Well, I can fix it, I’m willing to put in the work if you-”

“That’s just it, I think you’re too dedicated to this whole thing. You know how they say boyfriends and girlfriends come and go, it’s common in life and I think more people need to recognize that.”

“Are you serious?” You asked, your concern changing to heartbreak as you felt every broken emotion you ever experienced.

“I hate to do this cause you’re such a great person, but this just isn’t going to work in the way you probably thought it would. Hopefully there’s someone out there that helps you see things the way I do.”

“No, that’s not how boyfriends and girlfriends work, I can change something to make it work, I swear-”

“Y/N, look at me,” Dan firmly stated, grabbing your shoulders so you faced him. “This isn’t a you problem, it’s a me problem. And there’s nothing you can do to fix it.”

But yeah, I know a boy

Who gave up and got it wrong

“Are you sure?” You asked, tears beginning to well in the corners of your eyes.

“I’m sure. The time we had together, I’ll remember it, but it just isn’t what I want. And I don’t want to keep trying when I know it isn’t right to lie about wanting this, us, to end up the way we could.”

“Thanks for being forward about it, I guess. The time we had together was great, it was nice knowing you Dan.”

“You too Y/N.”

If you really love a woman, don’t let her go

Yeah, I know a few things a man oughta know

“I-I’m sorry Bucky, I shouldn’t be complaining to you like I am, I just have to deal with it,” You whispered, continuing to quietly cry in his arms. “I just don’t understand why he dropped everything we had, it doesn’t make sense.”

“Y/N, look at me,” He softly replied as he tilted your chin up, your tear-stained eyes meeting his. “I will always, always be here for you when you need someone. You shouldn’t have to go through this on your own, and I’m not letting you go through it on your own. Anytime you need a shoulder to lean on, mine’s always here for you, and whenever you need me, I’ll be here.”

“Thanks Bucky, you’re the greatest friend I’ve ever had.” Wrapping him in a hug, you didn’t know how much he wanted you to be his. But you just went through so much, he wouldn’t mess with it now. That’s just who he was, and how he planned to stay.

*Timeskip to a few months later…*

If I can’t have it, I can do without

I can hang a picture same as I can take it down

“Is Y/N around, I need help with something in the lab,” Tony yelled from the kitchen, trying to find something to satisfy his appetite.

“Y/N went out with this Brandon guy, something was mentioned about him last month. There’s all kinds of pictures of them if you go look at the side table in Y/N’s room,” Bucky mentioned from the lounge from his seat on the couch, a hint of snarkiness in his voice.

“Sounds like they’re having a wonderful time. What about you man, when are you gonna say something?”

“Say what, there’s nothing to tell,” Bucky defensively responded, a hint of concern flashing through his features.

“Y/N’s never gonna know how you feel if you don’t say something. We can all see it, you’re head over heels and you have been since you two met. But Y/N doesn’t see those things unless someone brings it up. And Y/N’s an easy believer, which is what all of the other guys have taken advantage of. Just, give it a shot if you get a chance, we can all tell the answer would be yes just based on how your personalities click.” As Tony left the room, munching on some sort of snack food, the elevator dinged, making it known that someone was there.

“I can’t believe it,” You whispered, tears falling from your eyes after yet another heartbreak.

“Oh, hey Y/N, Tony was just looking for–hey, come here, what happened?” Bucky mentioned, wrapping you in his arms once he noticed your eyes, which were stained with tears once more.

“What do you mean, everything’s fine Bucky, just got back from watching one of those upsetting rom-coms, you know?” You answered, a small fake giggle leaving your lips. “I should probably go, I’ll see you later.”

You made sure he didn’t see the tears or the heartbreak, the pain that laced your features. Shards of glass littered your wood floor, every picture frame that held a memory of Brandon now broken and scattered across the room, with the sudden downpour of rain adding to your dejected mood. He’d never know anything was wrong, you learned how to keep your heartbreak hidden after the continuous boyfriend mishaps, as much as it pained you every time.

And how to keep it hidden when a heart gets broke

Yeah I know a few things a man oughta know

Not long after you began letting the new tears fall free, having accidentally stepped on a randomly strewn glass shard, you heard knocking on your door. “Who is it?”

“Y/N, it’s Bucky, can I maybe come in?”

He heard the creaking of your mattress followed by the soft padding of your feet, figuring out you were slowly making your way across the room. The door quietly creaked open, revealing the fake smile he couldn’t take any more of.

“Hey, what do you need?”

“I need you to stop lying to me,” He softly answered, letting himself in. “I need you to tell me what’s really going on and why you’ve felt the need to lie about what’s going on with you. And where’s the blood coming from?”

“I’m, uh, on my period?” You meekly replied, trying to hop towards your bathroom to the first aid kit, your new wound not going unnoticed.

“Y/N, what happened?” Bucky asked frantically, now noticing the mess of glass, broken frames, and ruined pictures all over the floor. As well as the trail of blood continuing to drip everywhere you moved. “Stop moving, I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“Bucky, I’m fine, I promise.”

“No you aren’t Y/N. There’s no need to hide, it’ll help you more to open up than to shove all of your feelings away.” Grabbing the first aid kit, he made his way over to your bed, trying to determine the best method to remove the glass and clean the wound.

“We broke up. Said I wasn’t good enough anymore, that he wanted me to change the entirety of myself to fit into the world, I told him no, and the rest is history, just like everyone else.”

You were numb. Sure, heartbreak hurt, but now you were emotionless with it all. And Bucky could see the difference in your reaction, he could see the blankness in your eyes, the lack of emotion in your features. You had lost weight, he could see it much better now. And it pained him to know that it was all because of the man that you believed to be perfect for you, when he hurt you so much and you didn’t even see it because of how he masked his insults and carelessness. All Bucky wanted now was to make you feel like you were loved, that there was truth left in the world for you to have.

How to know when it’s love

How to stay when it’s tough

“Y/N, I can’t imagine how hard this must be for you. I want you to know that I’ll be here by your side when things get tough for you. Anything you need, I’m here, whether it’s game night with the team and you need a partner, or someone to be by your side when you need to get rid of the negativity in your life, I’ll be here.” Continuing to clean the wound on your foot, Bucky didn’t get a chance to see the look of admiration that appeared on your face as your heart soared out of your chest. “You’re lucky that you don’t need stitches for this Y/N, considering how big of a piece of glass that is.”

“Bucky, I don’t know what to say, that means so much to me,” You replied, a soft giggle leaving your lips as he accidentally brushed his fingers across a sensitive spot on your foot.

“Sorry doll, did that hurt?” He asked in response, not realizing at first what he had done.

“No, I’m fine, thanks again for helping me.”

“Anything for you Y/N.” Brushing across a different spot, he caught onto what he was doing, trying to sneakily test his theory without you realizing. Once he finished bandaging the wound on your foot, you tried to leave as quickly as possible, but he wouldn’t let you. “Let me clean up this glass first, before you start trying to go anywhere.”

As soon as the glass was cleaned up, you hopped off of your bed, ready to leave your room, but once again, you were stopped.

“Wait, where are you going? There might still be some small glass pieces on the floor, you could get hurt again.”

“I think I’m okay Bucky, I already ran into it once,” You argued with a laugh, trying to step around him, but his hands moving to your hips stopped you in an instant.

“I think you’ve been hiding something from me Y/N.” Picking you up and softly putting you back on your bed, Bucky wasted no time in pinning your wrists and lightly scratching at your side.

“Buhuhcky nohoho”

“Bucky yes,” He replied with a smile, quickening the pace of his fingers, eliciting more laughter from your lips. He could listen to your laugh all day, as long as he knew it meant you were happy.

Giving up on pinning your wrists above your head, his fingers shot into your underarms, rapidly wiggling both his human and metal fingers into the soft skin he found there, not realizing the strength of the reaction that came from you.

“NAHAHAHA NOHOHOT THEHEHEHERE”

“But this is still okay, good.” A slight smirk made its way to Bucky’s face as his hands moved down to your ribs, digging his fingers into the bones. Loud laughter and squeals erupted from you, Bucky himself even beginning to laugh a little bit. “Are you ready to admit you were hiding this from me?”

“FIHIHIHINE”

“Fine what?” Sliding down to your legs, his fingers drifted around your feet where they were ready to strike, careful to not hurt the wound that he just bandaged.

“I cahahan’t say ihitit,” You said as you giggled and gasped for air, grateful for the release.

“Hmm, that just won’t do, I can’t put up with it,” Bucky replied, wiggling his fingers along your soles, your giggles becoming more and more frantic.

“Nohohoho”

“Just say it Y/N,” He sang, barely tapping his fingertips along your soles, your laughter nearly becoming silent. “Woah, breathe a little bit for me there.”

“IHIHIHIm TIHIHIHCKLISH”

“There, it wasn’t that hard, now was it?”

Sitting up in his arms, you wrapped him in a hug, trying to convey how much he meant to you without words, but it wasn’t enough. “Thanks for everything, Bucky.”

“My pleasure doll, it’s what friends do.”

“And I love you for it.” Those six words flew out of your lips before you could realize it, your true feelings making their way into the air, all while Bucky just stared. Your emotions flashed between desperation, heartbreak, and soon fear, after truly thinking about what you had just said.

“What?”

“Nothing, I, uhm, I’ve gotta go, thanks again for helping me out Bucky.” Sliding your shoes on, you quickly made your way out of your room, Bucky following close behind.

“Y/N wait!” But by the time he yelled, you were already out the door of the compound, beginning to run down the long driveway while the thunder from the newly developed storm crashed throughout the sky.

How to chase forever down a driveway

How to never let it get there in the first place

By the time he caught up to you, thankful for his enhanced running speed, you both were soaked. As you turned around, not being able to tell the difference between raindrops and teardrops, you saw the man you shoved all your feelings deep down for. You never wanted to admit you were hopelessly in love with him, always choosing to shove them away and try to find someone else. And now, you believed it to be too late, your chance at being with the one you truly loved now gone.

“Y/N, stop running away! It isn’t going to help anything!” Bucky yelled, you barely being able to hear him over the storm raging above both of your heads.

“I can’t do it anymore Bucky! I can’t hide it like I have been anymore, I’m hopelessly in love with you and I don’t care if the entire world hears it because dammit, I’ve loved you since the day I first heard you say ‘just call me Bucky.’ Every single time I look at you, I see my forever, the only one that truly knows me. And I don’t care if you don’t want it, because if you don’t, I’ll just go find another way to manage. But I want you to know, from the very bottom of my heart, that I fucking love you James Buchanan Barnes, with my whole life.”

“Who the hell said I wasn’t in love with you Y/N? Who in their right mind ever said that I didn’t enjoy the way you walk into my room unannounced to make fun of Steve, or the way you make my heart flutter anytime you say you have an idea that’s just a little bit dangerous. Your adventurous spirit, your kindness towards others, everything that all the others have taken advantage of, I fucking love that about you and I can’t believe you love me too. I never wanted to let you go from the moment you said ‘hey’ and gave that little wave of yours that sends my heart on a damn rollercoaster filled with loops. So yes, I love you too, and I want my forever to be just like yours, the two of us together the way we always wanted but never knew until now.”

And yeah, I know a boy

Who gave up and got it wrong

“All of the other boys who gave up on you, they were wrong to give up. They weren’t willing to try to see things the way you did, the amazing view you have on the world and everything in it. But I do know how you see things and I love that about you Y/N. I’ll love you until the end of the line and I’ll never, ever let you go.”

Throwing yourself into Bucky’s arms, a mixture of raindrops and teardrops falling down both of your faces, your lips pressed against his as your arms made their way around his neck, his arms moving to your waist.

If you really love a woman, don’t let her go

Well, I know a few things a man oughta know

“I love you Bucky, I really do love you.”

“I love you too Y/N, more than you’ll ever know. Let’s get you inside, you’re soaked.”

“You’re pretty rained on over there too Bucky.”

As the rain continued to pour, you and Bucky both ran hand-in-hand back into the compound, a smile gracing both of your faces. He was everything you ever wanted, and you never thought it would take that many broken relationships, but now, you had someone who knew a few things a man oughta know.

Yeah, I know a few things a man oughta know

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x gn!reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes tickle #mcu tickle #ticklish reader #ticklish!reader #bucky barnes x ticklish!reader #bucky barnes x reader tickle #marvel tickle #marvel fluff #marvel angst

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hopelesshawks · 3 years

Note

We already talked about this in dms but like👀 Keigo and a female reader that he thinks is just all cute and shit. But nah she’s actually one of the best dancers in japan and specializes in badass and sexy dances

I went down such a rabbit hole picking out the choreo for this for zero reason 💀💀💀 but man am I here for it. For those curious what I pictured writing this it’s this dance at time code 7:27 choreography is by Jojo Gomez

It’s an 18+ one y’all, minors dni. Warnings for dom/sub dynamics, mention of reader having a vagina, fingering, hand jobs, light edging, light nipple play, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, minor praise kink

“So when are you finally gonna seal the deal with (y/n)?” Mirko asks Hawks one day as they walk their usual patrol route. It’s a quiet day and quiet days always made Mirko more likely to pry. “Seal the deal?” Hawks asks. “Y’know... Do the devil’s tango? Make the beast of two backs? Teach her the birds and the bees?” Mirko teases, wiggling her eyebrows and crowding into his personal space. Hawks rolls his eyes hard and shoves her out of his space, not that it deters her. “It’s not like that,” he tells his nosy friend but she just scoffs in response. “Don’t play like you don’t want to get all up on her, Hawks. You go to that cafe she works at every night after your shift and I’m pretty sure you don’t even like coffee,” Mirko points out. “I like coffee,” Hawks retorts mulishly. “No you don’t.” “Drop it Mirko.” “Oh c’mon! It’ll be easier if you just admit it.” “Fine! She’s adorable, you happy?” Hawks finally huffs, red tinting his cheeks. There’s a beat of silence before Mirko responds but it’s not quite the response Hawks is expecting. “Wait you think (y/n)... is adorable?” Mirko asks. “What do you mean? She is!” Hawks replies defensively. “Relax tough guy, adorable just isn’t the word I’d use to describe her,” Mirko shrugs. “How else would you describe her? She always seems kinda sleepy on her shift and she wears those big oversized sweatshirts,” Hawks elaborates but Mirko continues to look confused by his assessment of you. “Have you never seen her dance before?” Mirko finally asks. “She dances?” Hawks responds.

In Hawks’ personal opinion, Mirko’s reaction is over dramatic. She had stopped in her tracks and stared at him as if he’d sprouted a third head or announced an early retirement. “What?” he asks, even more defensive than before. Mirko heaves a sigh as if Hawks’ ignorance is her greatest source of disappointment. “I forget sometimes you live under a rock, Jesus Christ. We really do need to talk about you getting out more for things other than work and creeping on the sexy dancer barista you have a crush on. Why do you think she’s so tired every shift?” Mirko asks in disbelief. “She’s a student isn’t she? I assumed school stuff!” “You really are hopeless.” “Hey!” “She has rehearsal before her shift dummy, she’s tired from practicing.” “How do you know so much about it huh?” “Well for starters her group has literally won competitions so jot that down. And two we follow each other on Twitter.” “Why do I even ask you things?” Hawks laments. “Shut up, I have an idea,” Mirko suddenly grins. “Oh god, what the fuck are you planning now?” Hawks groans. “I think we should pay (y/n) a little visit during rehearsal, don’t you?”

Hawks follows Mirko through the halls of the university rec center with a growing sense of dread. She looks mischievous and that’s usually a sign that Hawks is going to regret whatever he just signed up for. After they round a final corner, Hawks can clearly hear music coming out of a room down the hall labeled rehearsal room B. Hawks and Mirko push through the door right as the song stops and immediately Hawks realizes that this was a mistake. Gone is your oversized hoodie, instead you’re in just a pair of sweats and a sports bra, covered in sweat and chest still heaving from whatever dance you and the two other girls with you had just done. Hawks should’ve just ignored Mirko and waited to look up one of your dances on YouTube in the privacy of his own apartment. “Hey (y/n)!” Mirko calls out cheerily even as Hawks mentally curses her out for dragging him here. Your gaze snaps over to the two of them and immediately you break out into a wide grin, the same one Hawks had been fawning over as cute and precious for the past several weeks. “What are you two doing here?” you ask as your friends grab water. “We were in the neighborhood and I remember you mentioning you rehearse around this time so I figured why not swing by?” Mirko replies and god does Hawks hate her right now. “You guys have perfect timing actually, we’re working on something to the song ‘Ride’ by Ciara and it would be really great to get an outside opinion on it. Would you guys mind sticking around to check it out? I promise it’ll be quick the other girls have something right after this,” you ask the two pros, giving your best puppy dog eyes. Hawks wants to politely decline, he’s having enough trouble keeping himself in check as it is thank you very much, but before he can Mirko is already agreeing and he doesn’t have the heart to shut things down when you look so excited. “Ah amazing!! Ok! Just sit at the front of the room and be our audience!” you beam and Hawks is helpless but to comply.

Hawks’ eyes trace over every inch of your body as you start the music and then get into the starting formation of the dance. Hawks can tell the moment you’ve focused in on performing your choreography because your whole demeanor and energy shifts. It’s commanding and confident and very, very sexy. He’s starting to understand Mirko’s reaction to his earlier description of you because the woman he sees before him now? Well adorable doesn’t quite fit the bill anymore. He’s already half hard in his work pants, much to his chagrin. What would the tabloids say if they knew he was getting this aroused in public? It’s not exactly befitting of the number two hero considering he’s supposed to be a role model for future generations. But could anyone blame him? The way you move your body and swing your hips is mesmerizing. At one point you slowly roll your body down to grind your hips to the floor and it’s impossible for Hawks not to imagine you using that same precise control to grind down onto his dick. He tries to focus on the music instead in hopes it will help him calm down but it only takes a second for him to realize the song is painting the very same image he’s trying desperately to clear from his head. He’s almost positive Mirko is smirking beside him but he can’t focus on her, you’ve captured the entirety of his attention.

Then the chorus hits and Hawks is really in trouble. You’re singing along. You’re singing “they love the way I ride it” and making direct fucking eye contact with him while you swing your hips in a slow, sensual grind and how can he not react to that? His wings flare and puff out instinctively, his cheeks going red, and his dick is now fully erect and leaking precum into his boxers. It would be mortifying if he weren’t too focused on your every move to truly remember his surroundings. Eventually the song ends and even though Mirko stands to go compliment you and your friends on a job well done, Hawks stays rooted in place. He doesn’t dare move as his painfully hard cock twitches in his pants. Sweat drips down your neck and god he wants to lick it off you so goddamn bad he barely even notices you saying bye to Mirko and your friends until the door is shutting behind them.

Hawks hasn’t even fully registered that the two of you are now alone in the room before he’s coming up behind you and wrapping an arm around your bare torso. You open your mouth to ask what’s up with him when you suddenly feel his erection against your backside. “Tell me you don’t want this or I won’t be able to stop,” he all but growls against the shell of your ear. “What if I do want it though?” you ask breathlessly as you shamelessly grind your ass back against his throbbing dick. The moan that crawls its way out of his throat in response is guttural, he genuinely can’t think of a time he’s ever been more turned on in his life as he wastes no time spinning you around to face him and pressing you up against the wall. “You knew what you were doing didn’t you?” he asks before dropping his nose down to run along your jaw. You shudder as he licks a long stripe up your neck, delighting in the salty taste of your sweat. “Maybe?” you hedge at first but then he bites the column of your throat hard enough you’re sure it’ll leave a mark and you can’t help but whimper. He draws back to look you in the eye, his pupils blown so wide they’ve almost completely consumed his golden irises. “Don’t lie to me little dove,” he warns. “I may have gone a little harder than usual because you were watching me,” you admit and it’s apparently the right answer as Hawks all but chirps his satisfaction before leaning down to press a bruising kiss to your lips that has you melting. One of his hands slides up to grasp and squeeze one of your breasts but even that is not enough for him and in the next moment one of his feathers glides in to swiftly cut your sports bra off entirely. You’re about to protest but the words die in your throat as Hawks starts pinching and twisting one of your nipples. “Does that feel good little dove?” he asks and all you can do is let your head fall back against the wall and nod your approval.

Hawks takes advantage of your head’s position to resume leaving marks on your exposed neck as his free hand snakes its way into your sweatpants and panties. As his fingers finally reach your dripping sex you feel him moan against the sensitive skin of your throat. “You’re so wet for me already,” he notes as he slowly slides a finger inside of you. “Want you, need you,” is all you can keen as he drags his one finger torturously slowly inside of you. “Want me that bad love?” Hawks teases and your answering nod is almost frantic as he inserts another finger and takes careful note of the way you squirm. “Use your words,” he commands. “I want you so bad Hawks please,” you beg but even as he uses his thumb to lightly brush against your sensitive clit he still doesn’t budge. “I don’t know, you were so naughty teasing me so much in front of Mirko and your friends. Do you understand how turned on I was?” he asks but you can only whimper in response. You jerk your hips forward in desperate search of more friction or movement or something but all that accomplishes is Hawks using the hand not currently buried inside you to hold your hips still. “I want you to feel how turned on your little show made me little dove. Can you do that?” he asks. “Y-yes,” you moan before obediently reaching one hand out to feel his hardened length through his pants. God he’s so big, and it only emphasizes to you how much you want him inside you. “Not gonna get much done from there, little dove, don’t be shy. I want you to feel me, feel the cock you’re so fucking desperate for,” he growls, slowly dragging his fingers in and out of you to emphasize his point. It’s so good but it’s not nearly enough so you fumble with the belt and button of his pants until finally, finally you can slip your hand past the waistband and into his boxers to grasp firm hold of his weeping cock.

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to find a devastating rhythm, your hands moving in sync to drive both of you towards your respective climaxes. Your moans echo around the small practice room and it’s music to Hawks’ ears. You’re close, so close, right on the precipice of orgasm when suddenly Hawks is leaning in to whisper into your ear a simple command: “Stop.” His hand stops moving and then he slowly extracts his fingers from inside you. You whine at the loss, pussy desperately clenching around nothing but you obediently stop your hand's movement. "Don't look so disappointed, I thought you wanted my dick," Hawks teases. "I do, fuck, I do," you groan. "Be specific. What do you want?" "I want your dick inside me, please Hawks I'm begging, I want it so bad," you whine. What a pretty sight you make squirming and whining for him. Hawks thinks he could watch you like this forever but even he is starting to get impatient so he decides to finally give you what you want. He shoves his own pants and boxers down low enough for his dick to spring out of its confines, the head flushed red and glistening with precum. Meanwhile his feathers push down your own sweatpants and panties as you watch him with half-lidded eyes, eager to finally feel his hardened length inside you. He has you wrap your arms around his shoulders and places his hands on your waist. "Hop up pretty girl," he commands and you eagerly obey, allowing him to lift you and then wrapping your legs around his waist to further support you weight. "Ready?" he asks. "God, yes Hawks please," you groan as he lines himself up with your waiting entrance. Hawks complies with an almost feral grin, wasting no time in shoving himself fully inside you. You groan as his thick length stretches you open but the slight burn feels so good as he fills you up. "You're doing so good for me, baby. So good," he praises and you practically purr your satisfaction. "P-please. Move," you moan and Hawks doesn't need to be told twice as he begins fucking into you in earnest. All words are lost between the two of you, the only language you need being the moans, groans, whimpers, and whines the two of you pull out of each other. As he drills into you harder and harder you rapidly feel yourself once again approaching climax. "Hawks I'm gonna-" you start but he cuts you off. "Me too baby, hold out a little longer and we'll cum together ok?" he ask. "Ok," you whimper, trying so hard to be good for him. Just a few long deep strokes later he finally gives you permission to cum and almost immediately you cry out his name, clenching and squeezing around him as he tumbles into his own climax. His groan is long and low as he spills his seed inside you and you relish each and every moment of it.

As the two of you finally come down from your highs Hawks carefully sets you back down on the ground. "Shit," he swears. "You can say that again," you laugh breathlessly. "Maybe I should invite you to more rehearsals from now on," you joke. "I'd much rather you give me a private show at my place," he replies easily. "I think I can make that work." "Good." "When would you like your first performance?" "How about now? You were just bragging about how much 'they' like it when you ride it. Time to put your money where your mouth is." "I'd like nothing more."

#ahh this took me so long to write and it ended up so long lmao #this probably could've been a one shot in retrospect but oh well #it's here now lmao #complete and utter filth I hope you enjoy #hhrequests #hawks smut #hawks x reader #hawks x y/n #hawks x fem!reader #hopeless.olivia #hopeless.thirst

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my-writings-and-musings · 3 years

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Hey, if you're still doing those angsty oxygen scenarios, could you do one with Rumble? I know he's not a lost light bot but it would mean a lot to me

He means a lot to me too, anon. Plus as I see it, being a Lost Light bot is a state of mind.

Here's all my previous posts with this popular prompt!

Part One: Here!

Part Two: Here!

Part Three: Here!

Part Four: Here!

Part Five: Here!

Part Six: Here!

Part Seven: You are Here!

Part Eight! Here!

Part Nine: Here!

Part Ten: Here!

Part Eleven: Here!

Part Twelve: Here!

Rumble

·The story of how you both ended up on the Lost Light is a long and rather ridiculous one, but thankfully you're both quite happy now with the way things have turned out. Hanging out and playing video games is one of the more calm and non-destructive things you two do around the ship, and it's an activity he adores having someone to share with, as not too many bots share the hobby. Being absolutely tiny by Cybertronian standards but huge compared to you, he typically encourages you to sit on his lap while you game together, something he claims is only done to ensure you both can see. Being a good sport, you agree so he can keep protecting his reputation as a tough bot who never cuddles anyone, and also because you know he's secretly in need of said cuddles despite his claims otherwise. You're well in to a rather relaxed gaming session when an emergency communication pings both of you.

·Quite open about how annoyed he is, the feeling only grows when the line is barely audible, static blurring all but every other word of what sounds like a rather urgent message. Though he does try to ask for a repeat of what's said, when the feed simply dies he's quite tempted to just ignore it and keep playing games. Admittedly that sounds good to you too, but being on a gigantic alien vessel makes you far less comfortable at the prospect of things being uncertain, as what's minor to the bots can be quite dangerous for you. Initially your gentle insistence on seeing what might be going on only gets an exaggerated groan regarding how it's probably nothing and that the two of you are having fun so who cares? The pouting is something you're rather accustomed to, so you follow a strategy of gentle pushing to get him moving, which results in him growing ever more dramatic until he's lying back on his second hand couch as if getting up would be physically painful.

·A gentle kiss on his nose finally melts away his immature resistance, but only after he blushes like a lamppost and huffs to try and pretend he's not doing it because you've convinced him or anything. With one last sorrowful look at his console, he hefts you into his shoulder and moves out, not willing to wait on your tiny human legs. Though he's obviously grumpy there's still care and consideration in how he walks with you, as he's never going to risk dropping your squishy human self if he can help it.

·Repeated attempts to comm anyone for some information turn up nothing but static, and that leaves both of you quite confused, with the minibot commenting on how odd it is that no one is answering. Being near the living quarters at this time of day means there's no one around to ask, so he hurries along whilst looking for a signal, reasoning that the two of you should head to the bridge or somewhere equally important to look for answers. Knowing he has way more experience in this than you do, you happily let him take the lead, smiling softly at how your agreement makes him puff up with pride. Being a mini has made him rather unaccustomed to any kind of leadership, so even the simplest praise or deference always means the world to him.

·His ego boost is quite rudely interrupted by a sudden tremor through the ship, though he's hardly knocked off balance for long due to his unique skills. Keeping his footing solid and you secure on his shoulders, he immediately asks if you're okay once the floor steadies beneath him, knowing that it was just a little shake but worried nonetheless. You assure him that you're fine, which convinces him to hold you a little less tightly. Looking up into his visor, you're concerned to see his usual calm replaced with a much more serious expression. It's one you know to only expect when things are about to get bad. As he starts walking again, he explains that, as an expert on seismic things, he knows that the ship has just been snagged. Having an internal sensory system specifically designed to detect these things also makes him certain of the exact size of the enemy and where it hit; and what he detected isn't good.

·Despite being less than half his height, Rumble is your immediate worry as he goes on to explain more of the situation, talking more to cut through the quiet to calm his nerves. You know that you're not built for alien robot battles, but quite frankly, neither is he. Not on his own at least. Though he'll surely deny it now, he's confided in you that without his brother or a bigger bot to sync up with... fighting anything but other minis is a lot harder. Knowing that makes you press him gently on a plan; where should the two of you go to be safe?

·As expected he's immediately adamant that he's fine, but his attitude to you is another story, as is obvious by how he shifts you completely into his arms and holds you tightly. With a promise that he won't let anything touch you, he surprises you with a completely unrestrained sense of protective drive, something quite out of character for a bot that usually struggles with deep feelings. Knowing that ships always have extra guards stationed at key locations, he decides to hurry his way to the medical bay, secretly hoping not to encounter any enemies on the way. Not that he's embarrassed to be a mini or anything, but in moments like these he really wishes he could be big and strong for your sake... Pushing those thoughts deep down, he hurries along and tries to focus on how cool he looks carrying you to safety. Maybe after all this is over he'll be able to tell some awesome stories about rescuing you.

·Seeing you get a little sleepy absolutely baffles him, and he gives you a little tap to wake you up with a tease about taking poorly timed naps. Not having realized you were nodding off, you rub at your eyes in confusion, suddenly aware of sleepiness that certainly wasn't present earlier. At your continued and obvious exhaustion he's quite worried. Had he better practice at driving with an occupant he'd have given you a ride to save time, but even at the best of times previous attempts at that were disasters, so in your current state you'd probably end up getting seriously hurt... It's yet another thing to regret as he holds you closer and hurries along, secretly trying to establish communication so he can hopefully get some answers. The lack of success makes him more worried with every passing minute.

·Though Rumble is no stranger to cuddling behind closed doors and carrying you to show off his strength, this is the first time he's held you like this in public for so long, and it feels very nice. You know he's worried about you, but it's getting harder to focus on staying awake and comforting him with his arms keeping you so secure, and his little spark humming so warm and strong right next to you. Only his gentle pleading for you to keep your eyes open prevents you from nodding off, mostly because his voice is so sad as he does so, and you can't handle seeing that sweet face grow any more worried. Clearly it must be bad if he's openly showing his softer side. You're aided in staying awake by a rather unexpected visitor nearly stepping on the minibot as he enters a hallway, and in the panicked blur that follows your mind is just sharp enough to catch the towering form of a very unfriendly alien before you're laid on the ground and Rumble charges forth in a preemptive strike.

·Though he's every bit as fearless as he usually is in appearance, in his spark he's absolutely terrified as he breaks out his piledrivers, the lack of his brother or Soundwave leaving him with a sense of total helplessness that he has to force down for your sake. The alien is a kind he doesn't recognize, but it's big and clearly hates bots by the way it strikes to kill. Using his tiny size to his advantage, he hammers the legs that are too slow to kick him away in time, striking with a level of force that strains his shock absorbers to a painful limit. The hulking alien collapses as its means of support are demolished in a messy and agonizing attack, but the mini takes no chances, hopping up to the head and delivering a blow capable of creating an earthquake all on its own. He's left panting from the exertion but grateful to have proved himself. Sore from the strain, he hurries back over to you and can't help but ask if you saw what he just did?

·Tiny jubilation is crushed when he hears your weak reply. Even though you're smiling at his victory, you're obviously barely holding on, and that means whatever invisible malady is afflicting you is growing more severe. Scooping you up in bloodied servos, he tries to keep the tears welling in his visor from falling, though admittedly he's not sure why since his image matters very little in the face of losing you. Thinking fast, he breaks open a vent cover and makes use of the claustrophobic shortcut to hurry to the medical bay, ignoring his own overworked body's protests to save you at any cost. Not knowing what the problem could be, he's still tearing himself apart inside over every tiny delay that could now result in the difference between life and death. If only he hadn't hesitated to stop gaming, or had been paying enough attention to avoid that alien... How like him, to prove unworthy of something by ruining it.

·You'd been physically incapable of staying awake as he'd closed in on the part of the ship where help would hopefully be found. Though you had tried so hard and been so heartbroken by his struggles, exhaustion unlike anything had ultimately forced you to rest, with his protective grip on you making it hard to worry as you slipped under. Tears had started to fall without restraint the moment you went quiet. It had made quite a scene when he'd burst into the medical bay, ploughing through a vent cover and startling multiple bots on guard as he yelled for someone to help you, nearly getting shot until he was recognized with you in his arms. Nearby medics had been quick to explain the breakdown of the atmospheric generators and the loss of oxygen, but he brushes all that aside with a single question; will you be okay?!

·Every bot present is immensely surprised by his demeanor. He's known as a troublemaker and a prankster, so even with your relationship to him being taken into consideration, his agony over your condition is not something they could have ever predicted. The loyalty to you is unshakable and obvious even after you receive the care you need, as he refuses medical attention for himself and doesn't care in the slightest when the alien ambush is declared defeated. Not even the prospect of free drinks at Swerve's to celebrate can make him leave you for a second. All he wants is for you to wake up, and to hopefully not be mad once you wake up and learn what happened, which he believes he made worse by being irresponsible and wasting time... Though it isn't allowed, he crawls into your berth with you to snuggle when no one is present.

·You awaken to a much clearer head and the warmth of a bigger body huddled closely around you, and as soon as you open your eyes a familiar frame welcomes you back to consciousness. Whispering a greeting, you're shocked when the mini suddenly clings to you and begins pleading for your forgiveness while also recounting what happened to make you "sick", confusing you beyond all belief at first. Why would the bot you remembered saving you need to apologize? It's only by listening that you realize his misplaced blame is likely motivated by fear, as his hot tears pattering against the berth suggest a bot recently scared out of his wits. The poor mini is blaming himself for his lack of action, in full belief he could have moved faster and should have the moment something was wrong, and sounding quite convinced of his role in your injurey before you shush him as gently but audibly as you can.

·Wiping away heavy tears on his cheeks, you speak clearly through the oxygen mask still secured to your face, reassuring him that he did nothing wrong and had no reason to believe things would play out as they did. When he tries to miserably reply that he's still should have jumped at the first sign of trouble, you remind him that he jumped into action when it counted, taking down an enemy several times his size without anything but his own fists as weapons. Perking up to hear you remember his burst of bravery, he asks a little more confidently if you recall how he punched the alien so hard the hallway shook from the force, and you smile while you assure him that you saw every heroic moment. Hearing himself be referred to as a hero seems to reassure him in ways he didn't know he needed, and the rush of his own gratitude is enough that he hugs you tight without a hint of bashful hesitation. Just being here and safe with you makes it hard to be worried about anything at all.

#transformers #maccadam #more than meets the eye #mtmte #lost light #ll #idw #my writing #my asks #anon #requests #rumble x reader #rumble #human reader #self insert

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sugar-petals · 3 years

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Bts voice analysis anon here! I just wanted to thank you for taking the time to respond ❤ it made complete sense why yoongi is the deepest I kinda feel bad for him everytime he wants to sounds cheerful or speak in a way so people can hear him he strains his voice

lot to talk about, i’d like to expand on this. especially what his voice being the deepest means for bts’ songs. plus, where his undiscovered vocal talents are, and in what manner his voice will not strain.

that he’s very introverted contributes to what you say, but yoongi is certainly the odd one out voice-wise, such low baritones hardly sound upbeat. similar to how taehyung being the odd one out in the vocal line whose head voices are literal superpowers. i really respect him for singing with jin and jimin who can climb one octave higher than him, up to C#5! and with jk who has the best technique and breaks into the 6th octave if he goes on like that.

it’s very much like yoongi who probably has to mix their tracks back and forth to fit his parts with hobi (who is a tenor as a rapper! — very uncommon) and namjoon who raps in several modes. very low, very high, very impactfully. he’s the most full-bodied baritone in the group even if he’s only the third-deepest. the tone is just so rich. both hoseok and RM are extreme vocal chameleons on top of that. in speaking and in their music you can hear the difference to yoongi all the time. they don’t suddenly drop in pitch and they’re vocal acrobats.

hobi in particular, this guy can do anything. the sheer agility my god, he connects his registers. he can go up and down, impersonate and do a million effects, adlibs, you know the drill. it’s him who actually owns the “cheerful/loud and clear” brand you mention. which is good if not fantastic for yoongi’s production endeavours, the group mood, and how bts cannot be ignored — but tough for yoongi’s voice and comparison thinking, and when he tries to make a point in interviews. maybe it’s not bad that bts have to slow down sometimes to let yoongi speak, but his tone is drowned out (not intentionally of course) in other occasions and he wakes up hoarse often as we saw. which might sound hot, but it’s not good for him as you say.

to be clear. i wouldn’t chalk down his more monotonous and silent tone as a weakness, it’s just outside of bts’ other vocal variety. he makes up for it with speed and good lungs anyway. we just have to listen more closely to him in talks/episodes/conferences but i think he shouldn’t worry about it either or try to sound more enthusiastic, the fans love his soothing speech for its pure sake. he does change it regardless to be more poignant and blend in. it has pros and cons but it wears him out.

yoongi’s voice is under that strain not just in conversation but also in the studio if he wants to bring connection to the rap line parts instead of having 3 songs in 1. which usually ends up happening anyway. that’s also why the cyphers (!) switch genres mid-song so often: their voices are all strong in different registers! yoongi the lowest, joon midrange, and hoseok up high.

that’s why cypher pt2 is a HUGE stunt and production masterpiece: hoseok’s part is tuned differently, then other instrumentals start with namjoon. and you can literally hear, okay alright a deep voice is coming! from there it just gets deeper and deeper until yoongi is just rapping over a bass guitar (every baritone’s best friend lmao!). god, please give yoongi a big bassline for his every part. “ugh” is the exact opposite: yoongi has to start too high and namjoon also has problems with the key, only hoseok can fully take off after 1:50 with perfect vocal stability. guess which song is autotuned: it’s not cypher pt2! a 3 in 1 song fuels the rapline in a way where they are most comfortable. it’s crazy how far apart they are among each other vocally and it has to be considered.

it’s a dilemma but also why bts’ rap line can tackle any song with at least one member suiting it. they complement each other, every register (except the rare whistle register, aka what mariah/ariana do) is covered. i think that contributed to bts’ fame, it’s so important. however usually, the song caters to hoseok since tenors are preferred in kpop music, or it caters to RM as he’s the central songwriting entity even if mind you, he always thinks about all the members and works closely with yoongi.

but even with joon’s support, it doesn’t work if yoongi is caught in his wish to be a tenor. we’ve seen how much the guy talks about wanting his range to become wider and how he even tried singing quite high for his standards on d-2. he goes as far as collabing only with sopranos to help him achieve that pitch. yoongi is invested to pretty much change his entire vocal type 🙁because the environment simps for high notes so bad (which is fair, falsetto is related to releasing certain happy hormones and highlights parts in songs, but still).

... he actually can’t, unless he wants to damage his throat. that’s the last thing we want. a listener can get the serotonin from a very deep voice equally if they got good taste.

thing is. you cannot morph yourself into a different vocal type and shift your range to the opposite of your comfort zone unless you’re whitney houston. even one in a million tenors like baekhyun can’t make themselves a baritone. his lowest notes are less clear no matter how hard he practices, even if his chest voice is almost operatic and his technique excels. meanwhile, chanyeol (who’s a lyric baritone and exo’s deepest voice) effortlessly hits them without (!!) that kind of decade-long training. have baekhyun or jimin been called bad singers for not being able to cover the other end of the spectrum? nope. so: why would yoongi be a bad vocalist who needs autotune. with lessons, oh man, he could do a lot and many things he dreams of. he has a very unique timbre and enough musical knowledge to do so.

so, we see the magic of your natural supported range. it’s simply given to you. imagine that: if you know you’re not a tenor, you could sort of outsing jungkook — obviously not by technique, but projection— as long as the song is tailored to you and the notes are low enough. yep, jk’s lower register is not extremely forward. each note is perfectly sung because he’s jk, but his power vocals are settled much higher. joon/tae/yoongi would sound much fuller with huge oomph in those lines. that’s where yoongi would be much more clear-sounding to us. a lot of baritone rappers in kpop would be damn good singers.

that’s why it’s good how a lot of rappers produce solos on their own so they can try it out.

you just have to respect that your range usually (not always) goes in one direction. once yoongi rightfully decides to abandon his high note fantasy and goes lower just for fun, we are not safe anymore lmao! exception for range: female singers have an advantage there. trained mezzo-sopranos have great access to the head voice and lower registers since they’re in the perfect middle of the scale. but the guys, forget it, even the baritenors. yoongi’s fullest voice will always be coming from a chesty depth and we love him for it. guy just needs to realize.

that’s why his real challenge is rather somehow tweaking the rap parts so his voice finds good resonance like in “혼술” or even “ddaeng”. where his voice is strong, relaxed, and full and flowing. ddaeng — “boy with luv”, too— is ironically in a very high pitch and again caters to hobi’s tone the most, but: yoongi just scales down to his own octave and it still fits, so — great key choice and musicality! and adaptation. it’s not easy to do. you can tell he plays piano.

he either becomes less easy on the ear or has to autotune himself entirely if he works against his voice. or: goes on a track way outside his supported range (dynamite, WOW). it’s a shame. “daechwita” and “agust d” are such a case: both go into the head voice where your resonance should show the most aka the chorus. there are aggressive belts/snarls/shouts that make more sense for higher, trained voices. yoongi is most famous for raps that are literally designed to fuck up his vocal cords 😷that he’s so skilled as a rapper prevents him from that to a degree, but it’s still not healthy. he adapts a lot to bts’ overall delivery but he doesn’t have to, in fact: he could go in the other direction and it would work even better.

the reason for the title track issue: they are the most energetic. in k-pop, energetic means amping up the pitch. and that’s probably a logical choice and a natural human association. if you make a baritone kpop track with a lot of energy, it probably becomes pretty creepy, uneasy, film noir. but i think that’s exactly yoongi’s thing: to unsettle and critique and rage. i think it could work out. lil nas x is a baritone pulling it off. he achieves energetic title tracks, he honors his vocal type well imo. his live singing is cool af, i need this so hard in the rap landscape. so, it’s not impossible to do.

the trick is probably setting everything to minor key. surprise... yoongi’s challenging title tracks are all in major key. boy with luv: minor key, interesting. the former are extremely difficult for him to do so hats off. “shadow” is more suitable for his baritone as is “burn it”. it needs a very heavy, dark track. which is why it’s good that yoongi has that kind of public image. a baritone’s best genre is not super light and whimsical. that’s why all of our baritone faves are not main vocalists but main rappers. kai, taehyung, jaehyun: low voices in vocal lines are soldiers.

---

now a note on yoongi’s best method of singing since it reflects his voice type and brings out the fullness of it. as in, how does it crack and strain less? guess why “사람” is yoongi’s favorite d-2 song to sing. it’s ALL his comfortable range and the singing — very beautifully done — is in mixed register (= head + chest)! which imo might be his secret weapon. it allows him to do what he longs to do successfuly without going extremely high. bingo.

because: even with baritones, the golden middle is still important. they’re not as deep as a bass, after all. that’s why their voices are so honey-laced in the mixed range and it sounds amazing. heaven, their timbre sounds so seductive. so, it’s wonderful when they find their middle and dare to sing.

i wish yoongi gets/makes more tracks aimed at just that. in “outro tear” he has to go both too low and too high so it takes a lot of production effort to patch it together. the rapline is doing god’s work to make all their voices sound cohesive without being trained singers. it’s always a trade-off and risk, an immense balance act. “paldogangsan” is hard on yoongi’s voice but works as a whole plus it caters to namjoon to carry the song’s message. the cyphers are chopped up and not chart-friendly but each member is in their comfort zone.

PS: i said bts’ rap line covers all registers except one. i think that jin is the one to complete bts’ entire spectrum coming from the vocal line. i’m no whistle note expert but dionysus went pretty high up there, i think he might be able to do it. it’s very impressive, even jungkook and jimin probably don’t have access to that register. so, another point for bts being a very ‘complete’ group.

#anon #ask #cub mail 🐆#vocal analysis #yoongi #suga #bts #baritones #tenors #mixed register #long post

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bibbawrites · 3 years

Text

A Little Bit Lost - the adventures of Little!Luke and Little!Reggie

Request: Hi!! Welcome back, weve missed you. Since requests are open, maybe something for little luke and little reggie's adventures if you feel inspired to write about ir. Or maybe little Charlie if you prefer it

Word Count: 890 words

Summary: little!luke and little!reggie are left alone and decide to go on a bit of an adventure

Warnings: age regression, if you don’t feel comfortable please do not read

A/N: this isnt super long but i had a good time writing it, i had a bit of a tough afternoon (had a minor breakdown and cut my own hair lol) so this was kinda therapeutic for me

both luke and reggie are in a little headspace, luke is mentally about 6 years old and reggie is mentally about 3 or 4 years old

anyways hope you guys enjoy!

Tag List: @happinessinthedarkesttimes @molinaroberts @joynersgoatblog @courageous-she @littlemissaddict @gloomybrieyxb @itsyagorlemmalyn @jatpxmultifan @moneybagmgk @emeliii1 @mybradforddream (the strike through means it wont let me tag you)

In Luke and Reggie’s defence, Bobby probably shouldn’t have left them at the studio alone when he went to go pick up Alex. Both boys had spent the afternoon in their little headspaces, and were down for a nap when it was time to get Alex from work, so Bobby figured there wasn’t much trouble that they could get into.

He was wrong.

Luke woke to find the studio empty and Reggie sniffling, tears running down his face. He moved quickly, wrapping his arms around the other boy.

“What’s wrong Reggie?” He asked.

“Bobby left us.” Reggie whimpered. “He don’t love us anymore.”

“He does love us.” Luke assured the younger boy.

“Lukey? Can we go to the park?” Reggie looked at him with pleading eyes and Luke’s eyes lit up in excitement.

“Yeah! That’s gonna be so fun!” He grinned, and Reggie gave him a watery smile.

“Come on Reg, let’s get your shoes on.” Luke picked up the sandshoes that Alex had bought for them to wear to the park, frowning at the laces.

“What’s wrong?” Reggie asked, snuggling into Luke’s side.

“I can’t do it by myself.” Luke admitted, before an idea popped into his head.

“That’s okay.” He assured Reggie. “We don’t need shoes, we can play without them.”

“Lexi will be mad.” Reggie’s bottom lip jutted out and Luke began to panic, not wanting his little brother to cry again.

“No he won’t I promise.” He said quickly, before noticing Bobby’s already tied sneakers at the door. Maybe he could slide them onto Reggie’s feet. He grabbed them, before gently taking Reggie’s foot and shoving the shoe onto it. Bobby’s feet were clearly bigger than Reggie’s but it didn’t matter. Now Reggie had shoes on, and a big smile on his face. Luke giggled, feeling quite naughty that they were going to go to the park without Bobby and Alex. He didn’t even mind that they’d probably get angry. He took Reggie’s hand.

“Let’s go.” He said, and together they wandered out of the garage, hand in hand.

“What do mean they’re gone?” Alex exclaimed, eyes wide. Bobby stood in front of him, his normally calm demeanour replaced with pure panic.

“They were sleeping when I left, I didn’t think they’d wake up.” Bobby replied and Alex started pacing.

“We have to find them. You said they’re both little, right? Think about how much trouble they could get into.” Alex bit his lip.

“Luke will take care of Reggie.” Bobby said, his voice wobbling slightly at the thought of something happening to Reggie or Luke.

“Luke is mentally six years old right now, he can’t even take care of himself. Oh god, what if someone sees them? Or some weirdo tries to take advantage of them?” Alex rambled, already spiraling. Bobby grabbed his shoulders.

“Lex, take a deep breath.” He instructed, and when Alex was finally slightly calmer, Bobby spoke again. “Where would two little kids go on their own?”

“The park.” Alex realised, visibly relaxing.

“Of course.” Bobby agreed. “Come on, let’s go find our boys.”

Luke had never had more fun at the park in his life, running around giggling with Reggie as they climbed on the playground and pretended that they were princes in a castle.

They were having so much fun they didn’t even notice Bobby’s car pulling into the parking lot and Alex and Bobby hurrying towards them.

“Lucas, Reginald.” Alex called, and both Luke and Reggie froze. “Get down here now.”

Luke let Reggie go first, waiting as he slid down the slide and threw himself at Bobby who caught him with a practiced ease, as Luke slid down to join them.

“You two know you’re not allowed to go out on your own.” Alex reprimanded. “There’s bad people out here who could do bad things to you. We were so worried about you.”

Luke pouted. He hated being in trouble. That meant he wouldn’t be allowed to watch cartoons before bed.

“Sorry Lexi.” He mumbled, and Reggie repeated Luke’s words, his voice muffled by Bobby’s shoulder.

“Are we going home now?” Luke asked sadly.

“We are.” Alex nodded. “The park isn’t safe for little boys at night.”

“I’m not little.” Luke protested, stomping his foot.

“Luke.” Bobby warned.

“Can we get McDonalds?” Reggie asked quietly, and Alex shook his head.

“Only good boys get McDonalds.” He answered. “Have you been good boys?”

“No.” Reggie pouted, looking like he might cry, and Alex’s tough demeanour flickered for a moment. Noticing Alex was close to breaking Bobby decided to jump in.

“What about we go back to the studio right now and if you two are good all the way back and have your baths nicely we’ll order pizza?” He suggested, and instantly Luke and Reggie were happy again, giggling excitedly as Bobby and Alex led them back to the car, Alex holding Luke’s hand and Reggie still held in Bobby’s arms.

“You did good Lex.” Bobby whispered once they were on their way home, with Luke chattering away to Reggie about a truck he saw outside.

“It’s so hard.” Alex sighed, and Bobby took a hand off the steering wheel to link his fingers through Alex’s, squeezing gently.

Their little group wasn’t conventional by any means, but they wouldn’t change it for the world.

#the adventures of little!luke and little!reggie #sunset curve #luke patterson #reggie peters #alex mercer #bobby wilson #reggie x bobby if you squint #bobby x alex if you squint #little!luke #little!reggie

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sonnetthebard · 3 years

Note

Owen doesn't really like horror movies and he gets paranoid pretty easily because of them. He hates that it happens and never tells anyone about it, he thinks its embarrassing for someone like him to be set off by something as simple as a movie. Curt also didn't know, until he proposed watching a horror movie one night. Owen went along with it because he knew Curt wanted to watch it with him and tried his best to sit through it, but Curt picked up on how uncomfortable he was -S

I know this was supposed to be headcanons, but... I had to write this as a oneshot. I absolutely love it.

Genre: Fluff/ Romance/ Angst

Words: 3171

TL;DR: Owen is not a fan of horror movies.

TW: Anxiety/ Triggering, brief mention of violence, panic attack, minor implied ptsd.

"Darling, I'm home!" Owen called into his shared hotel room teasingly.

"What, you're done scoping out the venue already?" Curt smirked, making his way out of his room, already dressed down to just a dress shirt (with a few buttons undone) and dress pants.

Owen smirked at that. Evidently Curt had decided his work for the day was over. They were in the primary stages of a small mission- one that should be simple. Intercept the passing of information from the French to the Russians- no matter the cost. If they had to kill someone, so be it. It may be an easy mission, but it was a crucial one. It was set to happen at the ballroom in one of the biggest estates in London during a gala hosted by its owners- set to happen in two days. The owners weren’t royalty, but they were rich- which probably made them more powerful than royalty either way. The event was going to be massive. Royalty and dignitaries from all around the world would be there- and, of course, the informants they were there to stop. If they didn't intercept this information... well, let's just say the Soviets would have a rather large military advantage. And that wasn't something anyone wanted.

Earlier in the day, Curt and Owen had gone out and met the family hosting the gala- who were in full support of their work. They’d even offered to be so good as to give them a discreet signal when their marks arrived. Of course Owen had turned that down because, even with good intentions, the utilization of untrained assets was always a risk. Once they were done with that meeting, Curt and Owen had done some genuine espionage. They were lucky. Their informant had told them when and where their marks would be in preparation for the gala. So they'd alternated locations to watch their opponents. That way no one got suspicious seeing the same two people watching them everywhere they went. Then Owen, being the keener that he was, had gone to the ballroom and scoped it out. He always loved that part of planning. Plus, the house was practically a castle, and it was old. Owen just wanted to see it. It was a marvel of architecture. But it was at least a productive visit. He had a good sense of the place.

Now, though... Now Owen was exhausted. He'd had a big day preparing for not only his physical game but his mental one. So he was more than happy to be back with the man he loved. And he really did love Curt, in spite of his flaws. Owen was well aware of those. He would have to have been dull not to take them into account when preparing for their romantic relationship. Owen knew he was the more fit spy. He knew Curt could be a bit... careless at best, reckless at worst. And boy, did Curt’s ego ever get the better of him sometimes. But Curt was one of the most affectionate people Owen had ever met. His heart was massive, and he was as loyal as a dog. That was more than enough for Owen. They would follow each other to the ends of the earth. Owen may not have the smartest lover in the world, but... he had never felt more loved by one person. Not even his own parents.

"Already? Love, I was there for nearly three hours." Owen chuckled softly.

"You must be exhausted." Curt rolled his eyes playfully.

"As a matter of fact I am!" Owen scoffed, smirking and setting his jacket on the rack. Curt walked over to him, wrapping his arms over his shoulders and kissing him gently. Owen hummed into it, snaking his arms around Curt's waist. "What are you up to, Mega? Trying to breathe some life back into me?"

"No... I just missed you." Curt blushed lightly, still smirking and trying to play this off as cool as he could. "Am I not allowed to kiss my favourite partner after a long day of work?"

"Oh, you're more than welcome to..." Owen winked, giving him another gentle peck. He rested his forehead on Curt's, sighing. "I would say you could kiss me any time you’d like, but... well... we both know the world isn't quite ready for that."

"I know." Curt sighed. "One day..."

"We can only hope." Owen agreed. He gave Curt one more small peck of reassurance before, pulling away, walking into their room. "So what have we got for plans tonight? I was thinking maybe we could grab a bite at the fish and chips stand down the street. It's quite good. Then... maybe we could go to the cinema?"

"Actually... I was thinking maybe we could stay here." Curt bit his lip. "We've got a television here, and... they're showing Creature From The Black Lagoon on one of the channels we pick up. I missed it in the theatres while we were in Germany, and I've been hoping to see it for a few years now. It's a horror movie, and I've heard the special effects in it are great! We could watch it together!"

"Oh..." Owen bit his lip, breath hitching a bit at that.

Now... there was a bit of a dilemma. Owen came off as very suave, very tough, and impenetrable but... he had a bit of a problem with horror films. That, and films surrounding espionage. He didn't know what it was about the visual medium of storytelling that was becoming so popular, but... it affected him deeply. It was as though it set off something deep inside him, and brought up all his own fears. Even if they weren’t the fears discussed in the movie. As tacky as the movies were with their corny monsters and questionable acting they sparked his anxietes. Even worse to Owen was the irrational paranoia that came with it. The fear of something that didn't even exist. Even the things that very clearly could *never* exist. Like Dracula. Still, if Curt wanted to watch one with him, he would do his best to sit through it. Maybe he could focus his attentions on Curt and not the movie. Or maybe this movie wouldn’t get to him so badly.

"Oh what?" Curt checked, the smallest trace of concern riddling his features.

"It's nothing." Owen chuckled, trying to mask his lie. He didn't want Curt worrying about him for something so trivial. "I would love to. What are we doing for supper though?"

“I didn’t think that through.” Curt admitted. “We, um... well, we’ve got half an hour before the movie starts. Maybe we could grab fish and chips and eat it here while we watch?”

“Sure thing, love.” Owen sighed. “You want me to go and get it, then?”

“That works for me.” Curt nodded.

“And do you want me to get some crisps for later in case you get a bit peckish?” Owen checked.

“Can a get a translation of that?” Curt teased. He knew most of what Owen meant, he just loved bothering him and he knew how much his boyfriend hated Americanisms.

“Do I really have to?” Owen groaned. Curt just raised his brows in expectation. “Fine. You’re lucky I love you... Do you want me to get you some ‘potato chips’ for later in case you get the ‘munchies’?”

“I would love some potato chips.” Curt smirked triumphantly.

“‘Potato chips’...” Owen grumbled, grabbing his jacket again. “Bloody Americans butchering our language...”

“Love you too!” Curt called out the door teasingly as Owen left.

The fish and chips place wasn’t far down the street. It was one Owen knew well- his parents had even taken him there as a child. He remembered those days... Things were simpler. Not nearly as complicated as his life had become. But that wasn’t why Owen was so eager to get out of the hotel room. No, Owen wanted the space alone to brace himself and prepare himself for this movie. Because he’d always been strong for Curt. He didn’t want Curt seeing him weak. So he just needed a bit of fresh air. That’s also why he’d volunteered to get the crisps (no matter what Curt wanted to call them). Extra time to steel himself. He took his time, but even then he only spent twenty minutes out of the house. Still... it was better than having had no time at all to prepare. He took deep breaths, making his way back to the hotel room.

“Alright, darling. I have the food.” Owen called him, taking his shoes off and walking into the hotel. He set the food down on the coffee table. Curt walked out, dress shirt completely gone now. In it’s place, a white tank top. He was in denim jeans now, likely so that he didn’t ruin his dress pants. Owen smirked. “I thought we were supposed to be watching a movie, love...”

“We are.” Curt furrowed his brows, confused. He sat down on the couch, taking one of the meals for himself. Owen shrugged his jacket off, hanging it back up. He then joined Curt on the couch, a teasing glint in his eyes.

“Well... you’re very distracting...” Owen hummed. Curt blushed.

“I can put my shirt back on...” Curt mumbled.

“No, darling. Don’t do that.” Owen sighed contentedly, taking the meal Curt hadn’t taken and setting it in front of himself. Curt had taken out his multi-purpose hunting tool and a pocket knife to eat with, but Owen stopped him. He pulled out the provided cutlery. “Here, darling. We can eat like civilized people”

“Right.” Curt flushed again.

“You’re adorable when you’re all worked up.” Owen chuckled.

“You’re a bully, you know that?” Curt grumbled, getting up and walking over to their in-room television. They were lucky. Not many hotels had them, but... this one did. Their superiors didn’t mind splurging a little on their accomodations, because it usually meant they were better rested for their job.

“I’m not a bully...” Owen chuckled, his heartrate picking up again at even the thought of what he was about to watch. “I’m just a tease, doll.”

“So you admit it?” Curt smirked triumphantly, fiddling with the knobs to adjust the channel.

“Only this once.” Owen rolled his eyes playfully.

“I think I... there we go!” Curt beamed as the television crackled onto the right station. The scoring to a typical horror movie started. Owen gulped, already not liking this. Curt seemed to pick up on that. “You okay?”

“Absolutely fine.” Owen lied. Curt sighed, coming back and sitting down.

Both men sat in silence, eating and watching the movie. Owen tried to focus on his food, blocking out the movie and his surroundings. But... that was unfortunately very hard to do. Especially when Curt was so invested. The man was leaning as far forward onto his knees as he possibly could. He thought Curt might have said something about Owen being right about the fish and chips, but Owen didn’t really hear it. He was caught in his head, in a way. And in many other ways, he was totally and uterly absorbed in the movie, trapped without consent the the saga being recounted on the screen. He didn’t even notice when he finished his food, caught up in everything.

And then... then came the moment Owen was dreading. The one that had his palms sweating and his body tense the entire night. Even with all that awful anticipation it caught him completely by surprise. Just as it was meant to. For some people, that was the thrill of the game. To him, it wasn’t. To him, it was not just truly terrifying, but also... humiliating. Totally and utterly humiliating. Especially in front of his Curt. Curt, who thought he was this suave, impenetrable rock. Curt, whom he was the foundation. Curt got to watch him cower like a child. The moment of dread was, of course, the first jumpscare. And just as Owen had predicted, he had jumped right out of his seat, yelping. Curt saw him and... he started to laugh.

The world caved in for Owen. It was a mix of the genuine fear he’d experienced watching the movie, the fears that fear alone had resurface, and the humiliation. He felt in a way that he was disappointing Curt already. And the laughing... it rang in his ears even once Curt had finished. Because this time Curt wasn’t laughing with him- he was laughing at him. He tried to mask it, but he was far too caught up in his head to have any control over what his face did. He shook a little bit. He couldn’t even fear anything around him. He had tunnel vision, and everything sounded like it was underwater. Owen hated it. He knew then and there that trying to be tough had not been the right move. That he should have said no to Curt. But it was far too late for that realization to be any good.

At first, Curt had admittedly thought it was funny that Mr. Tough Guy Owen Carvour himself had fallen victim to the classic jumpscare. And he would be the first to admit he had laughed a long time- especially when he thought that for once he had been the one to fluster Owen and not the other way around. But then, when Owen neglected to come back with any snide remarks... When he didn’t tell Curt to shut up, or even chuckle along with him... That was when Curt knew that now was not the time to be laughing. That something was genuinely wrong. That was when he finally took the time to notice that his lover was shaking, and the fear that had been in his eyes when he jumped had not vanished- even though the protegonists were safe. Curt took Owen’s hand’s carefully. Owen twitched in what could be a flinch, but put up no fight. That was the final tip-off for Curt that sommething was very wrong. He got in front of Owen carefully.

“Hey... Hey, Owen. You’re okay.” Curt soothed. Owen seemed to snap a bit out of it- enough to see Curt in front of him and look him in the eyes. Curt suppressed his concern and put on a comforting smile for Owen. “That’s right, babe. Look at me. I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

There was a moment of Owen just staring into Curt’s eyes and reminding himself that Curt had his back. That he was safe. Once he had calmed enough to speak, he took a shaky sigh.

“I’m sorry.” Owen mumbled.

“No... no, don’t be sorry!” Curt shook his head, giving Owen’s hands a squeeze. Immediately as thought that had awakened something in him, Owen was squeezing back as if it were the only thing keeping him on the ground. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

“Yes I do.” Owen spat, almost as though the words were poison. Self hatred oozed from his tone. “I’ve been lying to you. I’m a coward.”

“You are not a coward...” Curt stated firmly.

“I bloody well near shit my pants at something I saw on the telly!” Owen pointed out, incredulous. “Something imaginary, on the other side of the screen where it could never harm me.”

“That’s what these movies are made to do, O.” Curt assured him.

“They’re meant to give people a quick fright.” Owen shook his head. “But... that terrified me. Genuinely scared me.”

“Well... we’ve got pasts.” Curt bit his lip. “We’ve seen stuff. We’ve been the victims of real jumpscares where we could have died. Maybe it reminds you of those. Maybe the lines blurred.”

“Curt, it wasn’t anything we’ve been through that scared me.” Owen softened, nearly whimpering, both scared and embarassed but also pleasing for Curt to listen. “It was that that creature was going to show up behind us and do the same, or... take you away. That poorly dressed, hokey monster that could not be any further from being real. I’m not just a coward. I’m a bloody idiot.”

“You’re not a coward, Owen. And you’re not an idiot. Everyone’s brain is built a bit differently.” Curt soothed him. “You want to protect me... just like I want to protect you.”

“From something that could never hurt us either way.” Owen pointed out.

“Sometimes that doesn’t matter to the mind.” Curt sighed. “I don’t know if this happens to you when you read all your books, but sometimes someone will tell me a story and I get so invested in it that I’ll feel like I’ve lived through it myself.”

“I know what you mean...” Owen nodded.

“Well... maybe this movie did the same thing for you.” Curt reasoned.

“I... suppose.” Owen blinked, realizing Curt made a lot of sense.

“Just like you feel things when you read... you’re feeling things watching this.” Curt sighed.

“Right...” Owen nodded, letting that sink in.

“You think you can take a few breaths with me, O?” Curt soothed. Owen nodded, following Curt through a few deep breaths until he had stopped shaking and his grip on Curt’s hands had lightened. Once Curt was satisfied, he got up and changed the channel. I Love Lucy was on. He smirked, sitting back down on the couch. For once, he was the one pulling Owen close to cuddle. “We’re going to watch this channel for the rest of the night, okay? I think it’s got some of the good family shows on it.”

“Are you sure?” Owen checked. “I can go lay down. I know you really wanted to watch this film.”

“Yeah, but... not as much as I want to spend time with my handsome British boyfriend.” Curt teased.

“I love you.” Owen sighed, resting his head on Curt’s chest.

“I know.” Curt winked playfully, running a hand through Curt’s hair. “Hey, if you’re ever uncomfortable with what I want to do... just tell me, okay? No judgement.”

“Alright.” Owen nodded.

And so they spent the rest of the night in each other’s arms. Eventually they did switch and Owen was back to holding Curt. He found immense comfort in that- and that Curt didn’t judge him. It was lovely to be totally and utterly enamoured with someone. And that was what he was with Curt- what he was certain they both were. He didn’t focus on the telly (though it did give him a few laughs- that Lucy was always getting into trouble). Instead, he focused on Curt’s hands running though his hair, or the little kisses he was being adornerd with. In other words, he chose to focus on how much he was loved. And that put him in an entirely better place. There was, at least, one thing they could take away from the whole fiasco: no more horror movie nights. They had enough horrors in their own life without needing to worry about anything on the tv.

#tw: swearing #tw: panic attack #tw: implied ptsd #tw: anxiety #tw: triggers #spies are forever #saf #curt mega #agent curt mega #owen carvour #agent owen carvour #joey richter #curtwen #gay #lgtbtq #oneshot #tin can bros #tcb #tin can bros fanfiction

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grailfinders · 3 years

Text

Fate and Phantasms #139: Cleopatra

Today on Fate and Phantasms, we’re making the last queen of Egypt, Cleopatra! She’s a Divine Soul Sorcerer for some Pharaoh flavoring, and a Battle Smith Artificer for a giant metal snake and vast material wealth from your empire.

Check out her build breakdown below the cut, or her character sheet over here!

Next up: Is it bad if the mad Vlad’s MAD or is a MAD mad Vlad just sad?

Race and Background

With the blood of the gods in your veins and the lack of restraint for your snake’s attacks, you make a good Scourge Aasimar. This gives you +1 Intelligence (thanks, Tasha) and +2 Charisma. You also get some Darkvision, Celestial Resistance to necrotic and radiant damage, the Light cantrip, and Healing Hands. Once per long rest, you can touch a creature as an action, healing it a number of hit points equal to your level.

Like a lot of pharaohs, you’re a Noble at the very least, giving you proficiency with Persuasion, and we’re swapping history for Religion here.

Ability Scores

As a cunning negotiator and shrewd businesswoman, your Intelligence has to be pretty high. Your manifestation has also been affected by rumors of your effect on men, so Charisma is next. Your Wisdom is also pretty good, can’t be a businesswoman without a good insight check. Your Dexterity isn’t amazing, but knowing how to not die is useful. Your Constitution’s pretty bad, but we’re dumping Strength instead. You’ve got armies for that.

Class Levels

1. Artificer 1: I know artificers usually make their stuff, but hey, nobody said you couldn’t have a trade-based artificer. Your empire’s pretty big, finding a bag of holding won’t be that hard.

First level artificers get Magical Tinkering, letting you add minor magical effects to small objects, basically your version of prestidigitation. You also learn Spells that you can cast and prepare using your Intelligence.

When you start as an Artificer, you also get proficiency with Constitution and Intelligence saves, as well as History and Perception.

You get some cantrips, like Message to sneak notes to your advisors, and Create Bonfire, because you’re the goddess of magic, you do what you want.

For first level spells, I’d suggest Cure Wounds to deal with your snake issues, Detect Magic to find the best deals on magic nonsense, and Feather Fall. Later on, that last one will be your giant flying snake breaking your fall, but feel free to use it earlier if necessary.

2. Sorcerer 1: First level divine sorcerers can learn Spells that use Charisma to cast. Thanks to your magical origin, you also know Divine Magic, giving you access to the cleric spell list and a freebie in Cure Wound. Hey, it frees up a prep slot. You’re also Favored by the Gods, letting you add 2d4 to a save or attack roll once per short rest. You’re a god, you do what you want.

For spells, Friends, Thaumaturgy, Minor Illusion and Charm Person will be useful for navigating court, while Frostbite and Mage Armor will be much more helpful once things get busy.

3. Sorcerer 2: Second level sorcerers are Fonts of Magic, giving you a number of sorcery points per long rest equal to your sorcerer level. Your Radiant Consumption also kicks in this level, letting you spend an action to transform your self for a minute. While transformed, you shine with bright light for 10 feet and dim light for another 10, and at the end of each turn you deal half your level in radiant damage to everything around you. You also deal extra radiant damage once per turn to something you hit with an attack or spell equal to your entire level. You can do this once per long rest. Your snake ain’t too picky with what it hits, but it hits nonetheless.

You also learn Comprehend Languages, because people tend to be more honest when they don’t know you understand them.

4. Sorcerer 3: Third level sorcerers get Metamagic, ways to customize their magic using sorcery points. Subtle Spell lets you cast magic without making it obvious, and Twinned Spell lets you make the most of your spell slots by basically casting a single-target spell twice over.

You also learn the spell Detect Thoughts. Strategy’s well and good, but nothing beats knowing your opponents’ next moves before they do.

5. Sorcerer 4: Use your first Ability Score Increase to grab the Tough feat. Sorcerer hp dice are not your friend, but this spell will give you an extra +2 HP each level, retroactively too.

You also learn Dancing Lights for more holy nonsense, and Enhance Ability to do what you want, giving you (or target creature) advantage on one kind of ability check.

6. Sorcerer 5: Fifth level sorcerers can use their sorcery points on some Magical Guidance to re-roll a failed ability check. Once again, you do what you want.

For your last sorcerer spell, grab Bestow Curse for a little pre-mummification mummy magic. This is one of those “have fun with it” spells, so feel free to make it wild.

7. Artificer 2: With who you are out of the way, let’s get back to what you do. As a second level artificer you know how to trade for Infused Items, magic items you can make at the end of a long rest. You learn four now, but you can only use two at the same time. Enhanced Weapon will work well with next level’s features, but Enhanced Arcane Focus will make your magic stronger now. Mind Sharpener lets you keep your concentration when you get hit, and Bag of Holding is just really useful.

8. Artificer 3: As a Battle Smith, you are Battle Ready, giving you proficiency with martial weapons, and you can use your intelligence instead of strength when using a magical weapon. You also learn how to build your Steel Defender, a medium sized construct that uses your bonus action to command. It can attack creatures, or defend party members. Rules as written it has to have two or four legs, but snakes are cool, so I’d allow it.

You also learn your first specialty spells, Heroism and Shield, for more survivability.

9. Artificer 4: Use this ASI to become a Martial Adept, giving you one superiority die (1d6) per short rest. You can use it in one of two ways- Commander’s Strike lets you ignore one of your attacks and your bonus action to let another creature attack as a reaction instead, adding the die to their damage. Alternatively, your Tactical Assessment adds the d6 to an Investigation, History, or Insight check you make instead.

10. Artificer 5: Fifth level battle smiths get an Extra Attack per attack action, and they can now cast second level spells. Your specialty spells are Branding Smite and Warding Bond, neither of which are particularly useful for Cleopatra. Instead I’d suggest Levitate to get the full Giant Metal Snake Coiling Around You effect, and Protection from Poison. As a noble, that’ll probably come in handy a lot.

11. Artificer 6: Sixth level artificers gain Expertise with all tool checks, doubling their proficiency. You’re royalty, you had a lot of free time. You also learn the Mending cantrip to heal your snake in a vain attempt to make it stop biting you, and you get two more infusions. Spell-Refueling Ring will help you recharge those spell slots/sorcery points, and the Eyes of Charming help you save on slots by using an item instead.

12. Artificer 7: By seventh level, your Flashes of Genius let you use your reaction to add your intelligence modifier to a check or save happening within 30 feet of you. You can use this a number of times per long rest equal to your intelligence modifier.

13. Artificer 8: Speaking of your intelligence, use this ASI to bump that up a bit for stronger spells, attacks, and more flashes of genius.

14. Artificer 9: At ninth level your Steel Defender grows even stronger, thanks to its Arcane Jolt. When you hit a creature, either with a magical weapon or your Uraeus Astrape, you can either a, deal extra force damage to it, or b, heal a nearby creature. You can do this once per turn, a number of times per long rest equal to your intelligence modifier.

You also get third level spell now! Your specialty spells are Aura of Vitality, leaning into your Isis-ness to heal people as a bonus action, and Conjure Barrage for when you’re fighting something that won’t stay put. You could also use Fly on your snake to give it some extra mobility, or Intellect Fortress to give long lasting resistance to psychic damage and advantage on intelligence, wisdom, and charisma saves. You’re the queen, you do what you want.

15. Artificer 10: Tenth level artificers are Magic Item Adepts, letting you attune an additional magic item and crafting a common/uncommon item takes 1/4 the time and 1/2 the gold.

You can also trade for two more infusions now. The Ring of Mind Shielding will protect your brain even more, making you immune to having your thoughts read, any sort of lie detection, or knowing your alignment/creature type. it also lets you possess the ring if you die while wearing it! You could also get the Cloak of Protection, giving you +1 AC and +1 to all your saves.

16. Artificer 11: At eleventh level you can make Spell-Storing Items, weapons or other hand-held items that can hold spells for other people to use. They store a 1st or second level spell to put in it at the end of a long rest, and then other creatures can cast that spell using the item a number of times equal to twice your intelligence modifier. It uses your intelligence, but the caster’s concentration. You can also only have one object used like this at a time.

17. Artificer 12: Use your last ASI to bring up your Charisma for stronger sorcery spells.

18. Artificer 13: At long last, you can use fourth level spells! Your specialties are Aura of Purity, protecting creatures around you from disease, poison, and status effects for the duration. You also learn Fire Shield, which gives you resistance to cold or fire damage, and deals damage to attackers of the opposite type. Again it’s not super in character, but you’re the god of magic, what do you care.

For additional spells, Fabricate and Stone Shape will let you construct great works over time, and Summon Construct will bring in another giant metal snake to make sure the first one doesn’t get too uppity.

19. Artificer 14: Fourteenth level artificers are Magic Item Savants, giving you yet another attunement slot and you can ignore all restrictions when using magic items.

You also learn Guidance as your last cantrip, and get your last infusions. The Bracers of Defense give you +2 AC, or the Ring of Protection can give you +1 AC and +1 to all your saves. Trying to get a Golden Rule going is tough when all your ability points got put into your soft stats.

20. Artificer 15: Our capstone level gives you Improved Defender, increasing the severity of your Arcane Jolt, making your snake just a bit tougher, and giving it a way of dealing damage while also protecting your party.

Pros:

Thanks to your divine favors, magical guidance, and flashes of insight, you’re awfully good at cheating the odds with your saves and checks. Basically, if you really need to get something done, you can do it.

With multiple people on the battlefield and a variety of goodies to hand out to your party, you are great at supporting your party.

With your high intelligence and charisma, you can control social situations easily, especially when you mix in your mind-reading abilities.

Cons:

If you ever fall into an anti-magic zone/exist at low levels you’ll find your AC very lacking, especially given your HP. Basically, hope your snake helps out.

Speaking of your snake, using it and your radiant consumption at the same time makes things complicated. I know the flavor is your snake is hitting you, but really you’re hitting your snake, and it doesn’t get resistance like you do.

Our tiny multiclass into sorcerer gives you a lot of flexibility and stealth options, but it means you have limited sorcery points. Thankfully, your sorcerer features don’t bother with your points, so it’s not game breaking for you.

#Fate Grand Order #D&D 5e #FGO #Cleopatra #Fate and Phantasms #Sorcerer #Artificer

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steveyoungjokes · 3 years

Text

Veteran Feelings

[Unedited, please bear with me] I see many of my fellow veterans proclaiming that they feel sad about the fall of the U.S. client State in Afghanistan. Most of them say something like “surely we needed to leave, just not like this.” Many claim that their feelings are complicated. First of all, how did you see our exit going? It was always going to look like this! Secondly, I’m certain that their feelings are complicated. I had complicated feelings when I first realized that I was being used. That I’d been had. Taken advantage of. I served in Ramadi, Iraq, and watching it fall to ISIS was a horror. I know what you’re thinking and feeling as you watch us lose Afghanistan.

Your complicated feelings are the beginning of the realization that, despite your intentions, you were a tool for evil.

Whether it was to serve our country, pay for school, to just have a job, or (like a platoon sergeant of mine) because a judge made you, we all had reasons for joining. Most of us didn’t join up because we wanted to kill people (though there are plenty of those assholes), but our willingness to engage in violence for our country, or for college money, or whatever, was used by the folks in power to evil ends. Rather than serving your country, you served big business. I spent a total of 12 years in the Marines before becoming disillusioned and leaving the service. So when I tell you that you got played, I know how much that burns.

We weren’t in Afghanistan (or Iraq, for that matter) to build a nation, or to promote feminism or democracy, or even to capture Bin Laden; at best those were tangential goals. Even if you were sent there to give microloans to ladies, or to protect a polling place, you were only there to give a veneer of respectability to an illegal and immoral invasion. If you were sent by the U.S. government, you were helping its mission in making Afghanistan profitable for the companies that sell shit to the U.S. military and extract shit from Afghan land. At best you lent undeserved credibility to the U.S. mission there while maybe helping a local Afghan’s day better. At worst, you’re a war criminal. Most of us are closer to being war criminals than not, and that’s something we need to confront as a group and individuals.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise that it was about making money. And the folks that started the U.S. invasion there (and Iraq. I’m starting to sense a pattern) didn’t lose the war, even though their home country may now be leaving the place behind. Rather than losing, they made out like bandits, making billions of dollars at the cost of hundreds of thousands of dead, millions displaced, and a country in ruins.

If you think that we were the good guys, then answer me why U.S. Marines use the Waffen-SS flag? Would the good guys use prisons at Bagram as CIA black sites to torture and murder prisoners? Would the people on the right side of history have suffocated or shot up to 2,000 prisoners in after surrendering? What of the thousands of Afghan civilians that are still being killed or wounded every year after decades of our presence there?

If we were there to help build a nation, why, after 20 years does Afghanistan still rank 169th on the U.N.’s Human Development Index? If we were there to rebuild their country, why, after spending $143 billion dollars of Afghanistan’s reconstruction is there no significant improvement in the lives of the vast majority of Afghans or development of basic infrastructure? We can talk about the kleptocratic leaders of Afghanistan, but they’re small potatoes compared to the largesse raked in by U.S. corporate interests.

If we were there to get bin Laden, why did we turn down the Taliban’s offer to turn him over. Was it because they wanted evidence, and we didn’t have any at the time? Or did we really just want an excuse to invade? Probably both. The same day that the FBI said they didn’t know who committed these attacks, President Bush said they knew who to aim our revenge toward. He claimed that they “hate our freedoms”, without any evidence to support that he was indicating the right people or that they did indeed hate our freedoms. If they hated our freedoms, why did the 9/11 hijackers target the World Trade Center and the Pentagon and not the Statue of Liberty? Could it be that they had seen that U.S. forces had, for over a century, invaded or coup-ed dozens of countries throughout the world at the behest of corporations? Perhaps they wanted to strike a blow, not at our freedoms, but at the military and economic terrorism that our government has wrought around the world in order to make sure that companies were “free” to make money without the pesky natives getting restless. Perhaps they remembered the time when U.S. Secretary of State Madeleine Albright (#girlboss), said that killing 500,000 Iraqi children was “worth it.”

The enemy of the 9/11 hijackers is the same enemy as the rest of us. Our bosses. The person who tells us what to do. This is often a political leader. More often it’s a manager at work. For most of us, the boss just controls your schedule, your attire, and your pay (while making money off your work) and maybe your health insurance. These are relatively minor levels of freedom-usurpation. However, the managers and owners of the biggest companies, especially those that sell to the U.S. military, make billions off war whether we win or not! They only need the war to go on long enough to make a buck (well, billions of bucks). Political leaders in the U.S. rub shoulders, if not take orders from, those high-powered bosses. So any political repressions that our government engages is are usually aligned with the interests of the wealthy (see, e.g. the war on drugs). The present example is no different: in 2001 the leader of the Northern Alliance made an oil pipeline deal with an Argentine Company; we made sure he was killed on September 10, 2001. But now that the Taliban has vowed to not disrupt the pipeline project, and is actively extracting and selling minerals with the knowledge and aid of U.S. forces, it’s suddenly much less necessary for the U.S. to remain there.

If you have complicated feelings, it’s because you’re mad that you’ve been had. You wanted to do good, and only bad came from it. You wanted to help Afghanistan, but the U.S. only made it worse. That’s a tough pill to swallow when you’ve grown up believing that you’re on the good side. Now that you know that we’re the baddies, I implore you to help take power from the real bad folks, those who make sure that military options are on the table because they are the options that make money for the already wealthy.

Your complicated feelings probably include anger. Just make sure you direct your anger at the right enemy. The Taliban is bad, definitely, but they’ve objectively done less bad in the world than U.S. foreign policy has. Help us change this country so that it will serve its citizens, and not harm anyone. Get money out of politics, fight for democracy in the workplace, and the right to vote guaranteed for everyone.

#afghanistan #taliban #usmc #veteran #9/11

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silentfcknhill · 4 years

Text

AtLA + LoK Villains Evilness Rating

(If you wanna dispute my ratings I’ll be happy to tell you why.)

ATLA:

Ty Lee - 0.5 /10

Cinnamon roll. Too pure for this world. Naïve and will put her faith in you 100%. Kind of ditzy but can take you down with no hard feelings. Needs to be liked by everyone. Is very flexible. Can strangle you with her legs and giggle while doing it. Chooses bad friends. Has frustratingly good luck.

Uncle Iroh- 1/10

Actual angel but could still open up a can of whoop-ass if necessary. Too supportive and forgiving. Loves tea, sitting around, speaking in proverbs and leading by example. Probably considers you a friend. Surprisingly powerful but mostly peaceful. Hard to provoke but if you do, just run. Fear the nice ones.

Jet- 3/10

Misguided and extreme but also traumatized. Don't get in his way. Kind of twisted and obsessive af. Ends justify the means, until they don't. Needs a proper role model and has potential. Can be unreasonable and is still kind of a jerk. Will gaslight you.

Prince Zuko- 3.5/10

Conflicted, violent and angsty but mostly needs a lot of reassurance. Has a major boner for his honor. Will freak out over nothing. Has been through a lot and will not be underestimated. Grumpy and willful af and won't listen to you until it's too late, then will blame you for misleading him.

June- 4/10

Might beat you up or kidnap you for money but it's nothing personal. Might insult you as a way of flirting. Looks pretty and delicate but don't be fooled. Can beat you up in a split second and not break a sweat. Will probably take all your stuff and never give it back. Lives for the tough girl aesthetic.

Mai- 5/10

Is just bored and over it all. Throwing knives is something to do. Apathetic and will probably just follow along with whatever including murder but will complain the entire time. Emo af. Would risk it all for a quick nap. Prone to bite your head off. Too smart for you and will let you know.

Wan Shi Tong- 6.5/10

A total dick. Tired of your shit and is judging you. Thinks humans are garbage and won't get involved with them until it suits him. Don't touch his books or he will literally eat you. Nerdiest bastard. Doesn't trust you so don't try any shit with him. Sees through your pathetic lies. Kind of an elitist.

Combustion Man- 7/10

Thinks blowing shit up is a form of art. Doesn't believe in communication. Very serious and focused. Do not fight him. Probably gets crapped on more than he deserves. A mystery wrapped in a bald head. Probably has a tattoo of the names of all the people he's killed and he's ready to add yours.

Hama- 7.5/10

Traumatized old hag. Created bloodbending but too crazy to do much with it now. May kidnap you and keep you in a dank hole forever. Seems sweet at first but is hiding a lot of secrets. Don't eat her cooking. Thinks sitting at home scheming is a job. Hates you for whatever small thing you did to her 57 years ago. Forgets nothing.

Long Feng- 8/10

Conniving af. Will brainwash you, lie to your face and maybe make you disappear. Wants everything and will plot to take it all. Perfectionist and control freak, will stab you in the back and you won't see it coming. Is tired of taking everyone's shit. Thinks he deserves better but he doesn't. Kills children.

Admiral Zhao- 8/10

Explosive temper. Huge egomaniac and narcissist. Hates the moon. Has probably killed a lot of people and fish and you're next. Will do whatever it takes. Won't listen to anything you say. Punch first, ask questions never. Jumps to a lot of conclusions, is usually wrong. Frequently embarrasses self.

Koh the Face-Stealer- 8.5/10

Terrifying and will probably steal your face. Do not approach. Too indifferent to chase you but can be sneaky af so watch your back. Doesn't handle emotions well. A total loner. The guy who knows everything but nobody wants to talk to. Fear him. To know him is to hate him. Makes you question everything.

Firelord Azulon- 9/10

Will order your execution on a whim and maybe a relative or two first for the appetizer. Do not question him. Will play favorites and call you out on things that are his fault. Overreacts and you should probably not be around when it happens. Disapproves of all your choices and is very vocal about this fact. Forces parents to kill their children.

Firelord Sozin- 9/10

Will commit genocide and take over the world while yelling at you for minor shit. Kind of a petty and jealous asshole. Even if you think he is your friend he isn't and is going to attack you. A big old bully with bad breath and a wonky beard. The original starter of all drama and certified instigator shitlord.

Princess Azula- 9/10

Unstable and manipulative. Sadist who thrives off of your fear and suffering. Will hurt you badly in all the ways. Avoid at all costs. Acts cold and calculating but really has no chill. Demands your respect but won't earn it. Trolling you gives her pleasure. The spawn of satan and loving it. Mommy issues to infinity.

Firelord Ozai- 9.5/10

Second worst dad ever. No soul. Will burn every tree and face to a crisp. Child abuse for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Actual sociopath. Will kill someone and banish you for it. Goatee comes first. Will project all his insecurities on you. Will tell everyone your secrets. World's biggest megalomaniac.

LOK:

Varrick- 3/10

Will probably lie, try to con you out of money, order you to do things for him and tell bad jokes but that's as far as it's gonna go. Eccentric and annoying af. Doesn't know when to shut up. Needs to learn some lessons in life. Attracts more trouble than he's worth. Has all the good gossip somehow.

Bataar Jr.- 3/10

The guy that nobody likes because he tries too hard and ends up ruining everything. Enjoys being a bitch. Wants to rebel but is bad at it. Do you love me now father? Tries to act like he doesn't care what you think but cares way too much. Will not kill you but might get engaged to your ex to spite you.

Police Chief Saikhan- 3.5/10

Will do anything you say for a price, except give a fuck. Doesn't really care about anything. Might arrest you just because he doesn't like you. The type to pretend he didn't hear you just to avoid responsibility. Likes to yell into things. Hates helping people. Is actually a giant rock in disguise.

Tahno- 3.5/10

A total prick. Has nicer hair than you and won't let you forget it. Very flamboyant and arrogant. Will gloat over being better than you at everything even though he cheated every time. Talks mad shit but can't walk the walk. Ultimately a big baby. Lowkey protect him. Wants to be the cool kid but isn't cool.

Desna- 4/10

Couldn't care less. Actual inanimate object. Lurks around for no reason. Hates everything and that includes you. Listens to his elders and would probably leave you for dead. Just wants to sleep. Secretly goth. Might actually be two small robots in a trenchcoat pretending to be human.

Councilman Tarrlok- 4.5/10

Attention whore with a savior complex. Smol bean who wants approval. Acts arrogant but is secretly depressed and self-loathing af. Stubborn and clingy emotional wreck with impulse control issues. Needs a hug. Will probably manipulate you through guilt or charisma. Wants to be Lucius Malfoy, but cries at night.

Hiroshi Sato- 5/10

Has lost sight of what's important. Total extremist. Will get revenge on you for something you didn't even do. Well respected and seems innocent but is plotting your downfall. Can build a whole army and take you down. Kind of a traitor. Loyalty is volatile. Thinks he always knows what's best for you but doesn't know shit.

The Lieutenant- 5/10

In way over his head. Wants to make a difference but has let bitterness take over. Will probably electrocute you. Puts his faith in the wrong people. Kind of snobby and will hold a grudge. 99 problems and benders are about 98 of them. Tired of being pushed around but still lets himself be pushed around. FLOPPY MUSTACHE.

Aiwei- 5.5/10

Thinks he's better than you and probably isn't. Wants to be sneaky but really is just too predictable. Boring af and tries to be unique but fails miserably. Lets everyone take advantage of him. Don't lie to him. Will harbor resentment and take it out on you at a random point in time. Discount Long Feng but not as smart or ambitious.

Eska- 5.5/10

Will stalk you aggressively. Thinks slavery is a relationship. Eyeliner sharp enough to kill. Never betray her or she will destroy you. Might use you as a footstool. Seems emotionally dead inside, but don't test her dormant waters. Uses everyone and feels no guilt. Hipster trash. No concept of boundaries or social interaction.

Ghazan- 6/10

Sarcasm game strong enough to fatally wound you. Doesn't say much. Has tree trunks for limbs and will probably use them to throw lava and rocks at you. Lowkey protective af. Don't get on his bad side. You can't get on his good side. Would rather kill everyone including himself than let you win an argument.

Zaheer- 6/10

A wannabe hippie but will still fight the system and you too. Don't try to control him. Gets annoyed when people breathe too loud. Is kind of a contradiction. Will literally blow you away. Anarchy equals freedom. Fuck the police. Can sit in the same spot for a really long time. Probably a flat earther.

Ming-Hua- 7/10

Has a significant disability but can still easily slaughter you. Innovative and sneaky af. As fast and agile as an actual lemur. A natural disaster wherever she goes. Doesn't listen to your advice. Overcompensates a lot. Probably her own worst enemy. Is quiet and likes to eavesdrop on your business.

Kuvira- 7.5/10

Wants to control everything. Who invited her to poop the party? Highkey evil and just plain mean. Will use your corpse as a decoration if you get in her way. Secretly petty and superficial af. Thinks social bonding is trying to seduce you in order to take charge of your life. Individuality punishable by death. Even other villains hate her.

P'Li- 7.5/10

Can explode you with her mind. Her gaze will pierce you to the core. Strong independent and violent woman who don't need a man but chooses to have one anyway. Will shave you off just like the sides of her hair. Has no problem fucking shit up. Boss bitch. Loyal to only a select few, so too bad for you.

Amon- 8/10

Charismatic but scary and mysterious af. Huge hypocrite. Will silently judge you. Powerful, selfish and cruel. Manipulative as hell and uses intimidation to get you to comply. Pretends to have empathy but really just wants control. Will cripple you physically and emotionally without warning. Knows all of your weaknesses but none of his own.

Earth Queen Hou-Ting- 8.5/10

The actual worst. Eats your pets for supper. Her yelling is the #1 cause of deafness worldwide. Will keep you prisoner and then have you killed for looking at her. The bossiest Drama Queen ever. Will be the cause of all your misery and will be proud of it. Bark is the same as her bite. Lots of daddy issues.

Chief Unalaq- 9/10

Religious extremist. Actually batshit insane. Wants to destroy the entire world. Has ascended from this pathetic plane of human existence. Loner whose only friends are invisible. Wants you to think he's just shy and misunderstood but NOPE. Knows what you want to hear and says it. Will sell you to satan for one cornchip.

Yakone- 9.5/10

Worst dad ever. Will either bloodbend you, try to live vicariously through you or both. Absolutely no redeeming traits except for being physically human. Abuse equals tough love. Might beat your ass for no good reason and expect your gratitude for it. Criminal mastermind with no conscience and all of the entitlement.

Vaatu- 10/10

Actually the devil. Literal incarnation of darkness and chaos. Ultimate troll and force of disaster in the world. Doesn't know any better, but still an asshole by choice. Will use you until you're no longer of value. Has a hard-on for destruction. Likes to play the victim. Will consume your soul and burp loudly.

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nerdzzone · 4 years

Text

Light After Dark: Chapter Six

Summary: Brooke Harris was trying her best to be grateful. As the world tackled the COVID-19 pandemic, she was healthy and safe and so was the rest of her family, but her dreams had very quickly been crushed by the economic fallout. Trapped on the quaint island of Jersey with nothing, but free time to wallow in her mistakes, Brooke’s mental health was taking a hit, but when she collides with a handsome stranger she starts to realize that the future might not be so bleak and there might still be a light at the end of the tunnel.

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC

Content warning: Mention of overdose and past death of a close friend. It’s not too detailed, but I wanted to give people a heads up just in case.

________

May. 12. 2020

Henry: I have a proposition for you

Me: That makes me slightly nervous

Me: What is it?

Henry: Would you like to go on a hike?

Henry: We can keep our distance and I've heard it's harder to spread/catch if you're outside

Henry: I completely understand if you're not comfortable though

I thought about it for a moment. As long as there wasn't too many people out on the trails then it should be pretty low risk as long as we kept our distance and I hadn't been out of the house at all since taking the cake over to Henry's house for his birthday. So, after my brief deliberation, I accepted his invitation.

Henry: Great, meet me at my house in twenty?

Me: Sounds good!

I quickly dragged myself off the couch, threw all the necessities into a bum bag, grabbed a sweater from my closet and shouted goodbye to my family with a brief explanation of where I was headed. They shouted a few questions back, but I rushed out the door without giving them a chance to get too nosy.

Me: On my way!

I sent to Henry when I was about halfway there before adding another message

Me: All masked up and ready to go

Me:

As I turned onto Henry's street, he was standing outside his house, looking down at his phone as Kal sniffed the sidewalk around him.

"I like your sweater," Henry smirked as I got within a reasonable distance.

"Thanks," I smiled. "I thought it might scare any bears we might run into. You know, they might get confused and think I'm one of them."

Henry laughed and shook his head.

"There's no bears in Jersey that aren't locked up in a zoo," He informed me. "There's absolutely no dangerous wildlife around here."

"That's reassuring," I smirked. "But it's better to be safe than sorry."

"Fair enough," Henry chuckled before pausing. "Would you feel more comfortable if I wore a mask as well?"

I appreciated his offer, but shrugged.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," I assured him. "I know you've been staying pretty isolated and I'll probably take it off once we're off the main roads, but it just gives me peace of mind if we run into anyone along the way."

"Alright," He smiled. "Shall we head off then?"

I nodded and we started off down the street, Henry whistling for Kal to follow. He did so obediently, nudging his nose against my hand before walking a few paces ahead of us.

"I'm glad Kal gets to come," I commented. "But aren't you worried he might dart off after any little critter he sees?"

"Not really," Henry shrugged, respectfully staying on the edge of the road, just off the sidewalk as I walked along the opposite side. "I've got him quite well-trained. He might get distracted, but as soon as I call him he'll come back."

"What a good boy!"

Kal's tail wagged at that, but he was too busy sniffing around some bushes to pay much attention to us.

"He is," Henry nodded. "He's been an amazing asset. He comes with me every where I go and I can't imagine getting through this whole acting experience without him."

"That's really sweet," I smiled. "I always wanted a dog, but it's such a big commitment. I wouldn't want to get one and then be too busy to give it the kind of life it deserves."

"It is a massive commitment," He agreed. "I'm very lucky that I'm able to bring Kal on almost all of my travels and that when I'm on set there's always someone happy to keep him company."

"Well who wouldn't want to keep him company? He's gorgeous."

I held back a remark about dogs looking like their owners as Henry grinned proudly and we fell into a comfortable silence.

****

It was only about a ten minute walk before we turned off the main road and onto a more secluded path. The sun was starting to get stronger as it was almost mid-afternoon so I slipped my mask down to my neck so that I wouldn't get too hot, but could cover up quickly if we passed anyone on the trails. Somewhere along the way we'd fallen into asking each other random questions and, while most of it was silly, some of it was proving to be rather informative.

"That's so boring," I wrinkled my nose when he told me that his favourite fruit was an apple. "Considering how much of a world traveller you are I would have expected something much more exotic."

Henry chuckled at that as he did every time I criticized one of his answers.

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Maybe a papaya or a dragon fruit," I theorized. "Anything more exciting than a boring old apple."

"I don't think I've even tried either of those," He admitted. "Now, speaking of travelling, what's one place that you've not been to, but would love visit one day?"

I thought about it for a moment before answering.

"There's quite a few really, I haven't travelled nearly as much as I would have liked," I confessed. "But if I had to choose somewhere to go first, I think I'd choose Canada. Australia is a close second, but I'm terrified of spiders and I hear there's a lot there. So Canada, the part where the mountains and lakes are."

"My brother lives there," Henry's face lit up. "My younger brother, Charlie. He lives in Calgary which, from my understanding, is quite close to the mountains and lakes."

"That's so cool," I smiled, my words dripping with envy. "Have you been to visit him?"

"No," He sighed. "Usually he's the one to come here. He was back briefly before the lockdown actually, but he left to be with his family just before I came back to Jersey so we didn't see each other."

He looked sad as he spoke and I felt a pang of sympathy in my chest.

"That must be hard," I said softly. "Especially not knowing when international travel will be back up and running."

"It's tough," He nodded. "I'm used to only seeing him once or twice a year, but it's definitely worse not knowing how long it will be until we can all be together again. He's safe though and so is his family and that's what matters the most these days, isn't it?"

I nodded in agreement before a smile slid onto my face.

"And now, you can tell your brother that you'll be visiting as soon as you're allowed to because I fully intend to take advantage of this connection and make you take me there."

"Make me?" Henry laughed. "And how do you intend to do that?"

"I can be very persuasive," I smirked with a suggestive lift of an eyebrow before turning my attention back to the path before he could react. "So, if you weren't an actor, what would be doing?"

"I'd probably be in the military," He answered without having to think about it too much. "A couple of my brothers are and I'm quite disciplined so it seems like a good fit."

"More dangerous though..."

"Well, I do my own stunts so sometimes acting gets dangerous," Henry pointed out. "I did spend a lot of time hanging out of a helicopter for Mission Impossible."

"Yeah, but there's a whole team of people responsible for making sure that you don't die, right?"

"Of course and the stunt teams are amazing," He smirked. "But that doesn't mean there isn't any risk, accidents do happen."

I grimaced slightly, knowing that he was probably right.

"You should switch to baking," I suggested. "Definitely a lot safer."

Henry laughed, shaking his head.

"Alright, well, my next question is: have you ever had any bad baking mishaps?" He asked. "It might not compare to action stunts, but I'd imagine there's the potential for some nasty injuries."

"There is, but luckily I've always been pretty careful. A few minor burns and the odd slice of a knife, but nothing too serious. I have seen some pretty nasty stuff over the years though. Like once..." I paused for a second. "Wait, do you want to hear this? It's pretty bad."

"Yeah, go on," Henry nodded. "I think I can handle it."

"Okay, so, one of the bakeries I worked in for a while made a lot of things like doughnuts and churros so we had a deep fryer." My skin started to crawl just thinking of the memory and from the look on Henry's face he seemed to regret agreeing to hear about it, but I continued. "One day, my co-worker was cleaning the counter next to it, scrubbing really hard on a super sticky spot and her hand slipped and shot right into the boiling hot oil.”

"Oh my god," Henry squeezed his eyes shut, his fist clenching as if he was experiencing the pain himself. "That's horrible. Were you there? Was she okay?"

"I was," I nodded. "It was like it happened in slow motion and she didn't even scream, I guess from the shock, but I was hysterical. I kept expecting her skin to just slide off any minute like you see in the movies, but thank goodness it wasn't quite that bad."

"I think I'm going to have nightmares just hearing that story," Henry cringed. "Has it scared you off ever going near a deep fryer again?"

"I haven't had to use them much since that job actually, but it definitely made me very cautious," I admitted with a wrinkle of my nose. "What about you? Any nasty injuries on set?"

"No, I've been lucky as well. The stunt teams are all very good at their jobs so other than a few near misses with a sword here and there, I've never been in any real danger."

"Do you actually use real swords?"

"For the most part," Henry nodded. "For the Blaviken fight scene in the Witcher we used swords that were cut in half and then CGI edited in afterwards because we did it all in one take and there were a lot of moving parts that made it more dangerous."

"You filmed it all in one take?"

We were on a fairly steep incline and I was feeling the effect. My words struggled to come out as I fought to catch my breath and I was happy to give Henry some more time to talk before I had to answer any more questions.

"We did," He smiled proudly. "For the flow of the scene, it just made the most sense, but it was difficult. The cameramen couldn't see where they were going at all, they just had to use their memory with someone guiding them from behind so everyone had to hit all the marks just right to make sure there were no collisions. And with it all being one take, if anyone made a mistake or the timing was off at all then we had to stop the whole thing and start from the beginning."

"Wow, that's...impressive."

Henry caught my slight gasp for breath and looking at me with a raised eyebrow.

"Do you need to rest for a moment?"

I nodded and we both stopped walking as I pulled my inhaler out of my bum bag. I took a quick puff followed by a few slow breaths until I had managed to steady my breathing.

"Sorry about that. My asthma has been playing up the last few days and that hill just took it out of me..."

I felt silly getting winded while he was so unfazed, but he waved me off.

"Don't apologize," He insisted. "We can take a break whenever you need. There's been a lot of hills and I didn't even think about your asthma so I'm sorry for that."

"No need to be sorry. I haven't left the house at all since I brought your cake over last week so it's good for me to exercise," I assured him as I started walking again, much to Kal's delight as he charged off ahead of us again. "Anyway, back to your sword fight. That must have taken so much practice!"

"It definitely did," Henry nodded. "Hours and hours of it. It's like training for a big dance number really, everyone has to hit their marks exactly right, but we pulled it off first try."

I couldn't help, but smile at the pride in his voice.

"That's amazing. It must have felt incredible when you finished and knew you'd nailed it."

"Absolutely," He grinned. "So, if your asthma gets in the way of certain exercises, how do you stay so in shape?"

I felt my cheeks heat up at the subtle compliment, but he was looking ahead and keeping an eye on Kal so luckily he didn't notice.

"I do yoga," I told him. "Not the most exciting, but it is a lot harder than it looks. I thought it would be easy, but the day after my first class I could barely move at all."

"I've heard that a lot about yoga," He chuckled. "Even from big body builder guys at the gym, they try yoga thinking they'll smash the class, but they end up coming out just as sweaty as when they lift weights."

I'd had to defend my love of yoga to many people over the years. As Henry pointed out, my options for keeping fit were quite hampered by my weak lungs so I didn't have loads of choices, but I did end up really enjoying yoga and seeing plenty of physical benefits from the classes. It was annoying to have to constantly insist that it was in fact a workout worth doing so it was refreshing that someone with Henry's gym experience understood right away.

"It's pretty tough," I smiled. "Even though I'm sure you'd find it easy. I imagine with those muscles you could probably lift a car over your head without any struggle."

Henry laughed at that, shaking his head.

"Not quite a car," Henry smirked. "But speaking of strength, are you a good climber?"

I raised an eyebrow at that question as I noticed him looking off to the side of the trail at a small rock wall that was about Henry's height.

"Why? What have you got planned?"

"There's an excellent view if we take a brief detour," He explained. "But you'd have to climb that little cliff."

I looked at it a bit more intently than I had before and it seemed easy enough. It wasn't all that high and the edge was rough enough that it wouldn't be too hard to get a grip on.

"I think I can do it," I shrugged. "But what about Kal?"

"I'll lift him up. He's much lighter than a car."

He shot me a wink and I actually, literally giggled like some kind of flirtatious fangirl. It slipped out before I could stop it and, despite Henry either not noticing my embarrassing behaviour or just politely ignoring it, my cheeks went bright red again.

He led the way over to the wall and whistled for Kal who bounded over happily. The big dog didn't even flinch when Henry scooped him up and plopped him down on the top of the little cliff and he sat down obediently when he was commanded to 'stay'.

"You go up first and I'll spot you," Henry instructed.

I nodded and went up to the wall. It was pretty easy to find a good spot to hold so I grabbed on and hoisted myself up. It wasn't that far to go so I only needed to get my feet a little bit higher before I could push up and get my hands on the ground at the top. I could feel the warmth of Henry's body hovering behind me and perhaps it was the distraction of realizing how close he was or just that my running shoes didn't have the right grip for this kind of activity, but as I got my hands on the top of the cliff, my foot slipped off the wall before I could push myself up properly. I didn't fall very far though as Henry's hand was right there, ready to catch me as it collided with my bum.

Both of us froze for a moment. The warmth of his hand felt like it was burning a hole through the yoga pants I was wearing and my brain instantly felt the need to focus on the fact that his massive hand covered almost the entirety of the cheek it was currently cupping. As the shock of the contact wore off, I quickly found my footing again and dragged myself up so I was sitting on the edge at the top.

"Two metres apart, Mr. Cavill!"

He was standing there with his hand still out where it had been, looking just as surprised as I was, but as I scolded him his shock quickly morphed into a smirk.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to," He assured me as he grabbed onto the wall and pulled himself up with an ease that made my attempt look quite sad. "But I must say, that yoga is definitely working for you."

My jaw dropped at his comment, but after a moment I couldn't help but grin. Even if I didn't have muscles like Henry, I did put a lot of effort into my body and my bum had come a long way from the flat board that it used to be and I was proud of it.

"Thank you," I said as I pulled myself up to my feet. "But please, keep your hands off of my bum...At least while we're out in public."

Now it was Henry's turn to be shocked by my comment and my turn to smirk as I turned and headed off towards the little path we were next to with Henry and Kal hot on my heels.

****

The path we ended up on was another steep hill which Henry profusely apologized for once he realized, but I assured him I was fine. It was a beautiful trail and it wasn't long until we ended up in the clearing that he was steering us towards. As promised, the view was amazing and absolutely worth the trek.

"Wow," I gasped quietly, looking out over the ocean. "This is incredible."

"It's one of my favourite places on this whole island," Henry admitted. "I don't think many people know about it as it's not a main viewpoint, but Charlie and I used to run wild all over this place and we stumbled across it when I was only about twelve."

"What a great find," I complimented him, still in awe. "It's beautiful. Thank you for sharing it with me."

"Of course," He smiled. "You're practically a local now so you need to know all the best spots."

I laughed weakly at his description of me as a local even though it was probably true. I’d been here for months and wouldn't be leaving any time soon.

"Well, I can't think of anywhere that would beat this. Can we stay for a while?"

"Sure," He shrugged. "I don't have anywhere to be."

I smiled and went to the edge before sitting down and letting my legs dangle over. It wasn't a straight drop down, there was a big ledge sticking out only a few feet down so it was safe, but gave me a sense of freedom as I looked out at the wide open space in front of me. Henry whistled for Kal and gave him some water from his bottle before joining me, but keeping a respectful distance.

"So," Henry broke our comfortable silence a few minutes into our pit stop. "After all those questions, I realized I've never asked you what your bakery was called."

I felt my stomach drop at that question. He probably thought it was a pretty easy one, but my hands went all tingly and clammy and I was almost positive all the colour had drained from my face. I stayed silent for a moment as I thought it over. I could have lied and told him anything, really. He'd never know. But deep down I knew it wasn't a subject that I could avoid forever so I took a deep breath and answered.

"Lola's."

As I predicted, he gave me a confused look and pressed for answers.

"Lola's? Is that your middle name or something?"

Again, I was tempted to lie and pretended he'd guessed right, but if I wanted to continue our friendship, I had to be honest.

"No, it was the name of my best friend." My voice was quiet, but it didn't crack or waiver so that was an improvement. "She died last year."

I saw Henry turn to look at me out of the corner of my eye, clearly at a loss for words, but I kept my gaze off on the horizon.

"I'm very sorry to hear that," He said after a moment of quiet. "How did she die? If you don't mind me asking."

I didn't mind, but it was hard to talk about. I'd gone the route of burying my emotions rather than dealing with them when she passed so it was usually a topic I just steered clear of completely.

"She overdosed," I told him, still not looking over at him in an attempt to hide the tears that were brimming in my eyes. "She was always into partying, much more than I was, but she never really did drugs until she started dating this new guy. Suddenly she was talking about all the things she was trying and a few weeks later she was dead. Apparently he was a dealer and he'd tried cutting his supply with something dodgy so he could make more profit."

"That's horrible..." Henry's voice was soft and cautious and it made my eyes fill even more. "I'm so sorry, Brooke."

"Thanks," I choked out. "Sorry, this is super heavy. I don't mean to dump it all on you."

I wiped my eyes and tried to sort myself out a bit, but he shook his head.

"I'm happy to listen," He insisted. "How long were you friends?"

"Since we were three," I smiled. "We met in nursery school and were instant friends. Her name was Laura, but I called her Lola from the day that we met, I thought it suited her better."

"Wow, that's a long time."

"It was," I nodded. "She was like a sister to me. Cassie and I are really close, but Lola and I just clicked instantly. No one understood me like she did and she absolutely always had my back. She was the one who gave me the idea to open my own bakery. She'd been saying it for years so when she died, I knew I had to give it shot. You know, to honour her. It made closing down so much harder because I feel like I've let her down."

"I would be willing to bet a lot of money that that isn't the case at all," Henry smiled reassuringly. "I bet she's watching over you, proud that you gave it a good shot and completely relieved that you did what was best for your health."

I teared up again as he spoke, knowing deep down that he was right. Lola wouldn't be disappointed that I failed for reasons that were out of my control and if she was alive she would have dragged me to Jersey herself if it was the safest place for me to be. I hadn't voiced my guilt to anyone else though so no one had the chance to tell me I was being silly and hearing it made at least a tiny bit of my regret melt away.

"You're probably right," I agreed, wiping my eyes again as a few tears slipped down my cheeks. "Sorry, it's just hard to talk about and it's her birthday in a couple of weeks so it's even more of a sensitive subject."

"No need to be sorry," He assured me again. "It sounds like it's still quite fresh, but whenever you want to talk about it I'm more than happy to listen."

I pulled my bottom lip into my mouth, biting hard to try to fight back the floods of tears I could feel rising. It was very touching how kind he was being when plenty of people would have run for the hills as soon as they realized what a nerve they'd struck with such a simple question. I glanced over at him, trying to find the strength to thank him without a sob bursting free, when he tentatively held out his hand, placing it palm up in the dirt between us. A few more tears escaped at the gesture, but a smile slid onto my face as well as I reached out and placed my hand in his.

We stayed like that for a long time. Hand in hand, but almost two metres apart as we looked out over the ocean with Kal settled in the dirt between us. It was refreshing and calming as was almost every moment that Henry and I had shared. Eventually, we realized that it was getting quite late and we should head back before we ended up walking back in the dark, but the comfort I'd felt in that time with him lingered even as we headed home.

The somewhat somber mood that had fallen on us was soon forgotten and the laughter and fun returned as we continued asking questions and talked about everything from what we do if we could be invisible for a day to how much we both wanted a family and children of our own.

We ended up down by the beach just as the sun was setting and paused by the pier to watch it. It was a pretty breath taking sight and by the time I got home I was feeling giddy from the magical day that I'd had. Henry was shaping up to be pretty much everything I hadn't realized that I'd wanted. I'd been so busy in the last year, grieving the loss of my friend and then trying to start and run a business that dating hadn't even been on my mind, but now, after sharing so many heartwarming moments with someone who made me feel as warm inside as he did, it was something I couldn't help, but think about a lot.

I was in the middle of filling Cassie in on my day's adventures as I rather inelegantly shovelled some food into my mouth when my phone beeped on the table. I saw Henry's name pop up on the screen and my heart melted at what I saw when I opened the message.

Henry:

Henry: I took this picture earlier and I can't get over how beautiful it is...

Henry: And by 'it' I mean you, the sunset pales in comparison

#cw: death of a fried #cw: overdose #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fic #henry cavill x ofc #light after dark

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evywrites · 4 years

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The War pt. 2 [remus lupin x gender neutral!reader]

summary: The battle ensues, lives are lost. Live of which you were close to, some you were not. You could at least be thankful that the one person you needed had survived. At least, for now. The future is becomes quickly uncertain. warnings: minor character death and a brief injury. It’s nondescript, but still mentioned. word count: 2k a/n: So sorry for the delay! Life has been kicking me down extremely hard. I should be able to update hopefully more frequently now though. part 1

The battle erupted, chaos and mayhem everywhere, invading Death Eaters destroying everything you held dear to you. People on both sides fell, unable to be identified in fear that you would soon join them if your focus strayed too far.

Your eyes squinted in focus, shooting spells, deflecting attacks. You worked with the people around you, lending help whenever you could. It didn't matter if you knew them or not, you helped them out, they helped you out.

You stood back to back with a kind looking girl. She couldn't have looked a day older than 16, yet she was still fighting a war. That knowledge spurred you on tonight as hard as you could, despite the fatigue that you felt creeping up on you.

Although, you couldn't help but wondering about if Remus was okay. You knew he was a tough cookie, that he could survive practically anything, but that didn't stop you. You both had lost many people close to you from the first war. You didn't want this one to be a repeat. You had to protect the people you loved.

As your thoughts strayed from the task at hand, you spaced out a little, letting your guard down. A sharp pain ran through your side, toppling you over. Hissing in pain, you squeezed your eyes shut. Your hand grasped the wound as the chaos continued around you. You couldn't do anything except sit there and blackout as the attack continued.

The girl next to you kept shooting you worried glances as the battle went on. She felt the weight of not having another person helping crushing down on her shoulders. She didn't let that deter her, however. Her face twisted with intensity as she sought to take down every last Death Eater near you.

The Death Eaters were no match for her as they swiftly fell or ran. Soon enough, they were all gone, and there was a fleeting moment of peace.

"Is there a healer anywhere? Please!" She shouted desperately, scanning the area. She let out a sigh of relief as she spotted a healer running around the corner with clear signs of exhaustion.

"I got it, you go help others." He stated, kneeling beside you. You felt the song of sleep calling you, beckoning you towards it. The pain in your side subsiding gradually. She nodded before standing up, giving you one last reluctant look before running off.

The healer cast a spell on you, and the pain quickly subsided. Your vision cleared as you lifted your head, thanking the healer.

"The spell wasn't severe, no need to thank me. Be safe out there, okay?" He patted you on the back, quickly standing up and heading off again to check for more injured people.

You stood up, still mildly dazed from remnants of the pain from a few moments ago. You knew you had to keep going, though. For Remus, for James and Lily.

You shook your head and ran off to help the others. You could only pray that this would end soon.

Remus deeply breathed as he took out Death Eaters one by one. He stood alone but kept a close eye on those around him. The incoming Death Eaters seemed unending. He moved with precision, taking out Death Eaters swiftly.

Despite the calm, collected look on the outside, his inner thoughts scrambled about. He incessantly worried about you, despite the task at hand. He should've gone with you, he should've. He'd be doing so much better if he was with you, by his side. Like always.

Eventually, he couldn't take it anymore. His eyes quickly darting around him, he assessed the current situation. It seemed manageable by the people there. He shot one last spell at the Death Eater, toppling them over.

He clutched his wand tightly, running off to find you. He knew it was stupid, but he wasn't going to let you go that easily. James died while he wasn't there, Sirius got jailed without him there, he wasn't going to let you be next. You two still had so much ahead of you.

He wasn't going to accept a world without you in it.

He ran around the chaos of the castle aimlessly, eyes constantly scanning for any sight of you. He didn't have time to think about how sadly the castle looked at the moment, he only cared about you. He shot the occasional spell at an unsuspecting Death Eater as he went, but that wasn't his priority.

After a few minutes of running, he started to slightly back down on his idea. How was he going to find you in all this mess? The castle was so big, there was little to no chance of finding you.

Until by miracle, he found you. He instantly ran up to you, seeing you look a bit dazed, getting approached by Death Eaters. He silently shot spells at them, distracting them. You took advantage of the destruction and took the Death Eaters out. You lifted your eyes to meet Remus' with a relieved, yet worried look.

"Remus, oh Merlin." You grasped his face in your palms, taking a moment for yourselves. Your surroundings seemed calm for the time being. "How did you find me? Shouldn't you be helping others? We went entirely separate ways."

He lifted his hand to cup yours on his cheek, staring into your eyes. "I couldn't let you be alone, I thought I could do it, but my thoughts drifted too much."

"You idiot." You leaped forth and captured him in a tight embrace, burying your face in his neck. "You shouldn't have." You two stood there for a moment before letting go. You wished you could've stayed there, but you knew you had a battle to fight.

You defended Hogwarts together, feeling as motivated as ever. You both knew that each other were safe, and that allowed you to focus on keeping as many of the others safe as possible.

However, at some point, it just felt useless. The battle wasn't stopping. It seemed like you were just fighting a losing battle. Even you and Remus were worn down by it, but that didn't stop you. You were stubborn and would not be giving up.

A voice reverberated around the castle, startling both you and Remus. You jumped back, clutching at your wands.

"You have fought valiantly." The voice dominantly silenced all movement around the castle. There was no movement, only frozen bodies, frozen people, listening inescapably to the voice. The voice which belonged to Voldemort.

"Yet, you have lost many. If you continue to resist me, you will all die. I do not wish for that to happen, for it'd be truly tragic. I command my forces to retreat immediately." Instantaneously, the Death Eaters disappeared in a puff of smoke, leaving behind the death and destruction.

"I will give you one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity, treat your injured." Your mouth slightly gapes open in disbelief, not comprehending what you were hearing.

"I speak directly to you now, Harry Potter. You have let your friends die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If at the end of the hour, you have not come to me, then the battle recommences. This time, I will enter the battle myself, and I will not be merciful. I shall find you, and punish every last man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me." Remus' hand subtly rested on your shoulder protectively, "One hour, one hour."

An overwhelming silence took over the castle, leaving behind only the sound of crackling fire and the murmurs of those around you. The atmosphere shifted. It seemed peaceful, yet it wasn't right. Nothing seemed right, Harry was just given an ultimatum. Thoughts swirled frantically around in your head, bubbling you up with worry over Harry.

Remus pulled you back into his chest, giving you a tight hug. Tears fell from his eyes as he wept, out of relief or grid, he didn't know. Neither of you two knew the full extent of the damage done yet, but you had each other, and you were so grateful.

"You're okay, you're really okay. We're okay. We'll be okay." Remus wept, still holding onto you tightly.

"We will." You whispered, clutching onto him. Neither of you wanted to go and assess the damage done, but you knew it had to be done.

You reluctantly trudged off in the direction of the Great Hall where everyone was gathered. You gathered your hand in Remus', tightly squeezing. Were you prepared for what you were about to find out? No.

You entered the Great Hall to find what seemed like millions of bodies scattered throughout. The sound of sobbing echoed ominously throughout, reeking of doom and despair. You shook your head, burying it into Remus' arm. A few tears leaked out of your eyes. You hadn't even seen the worst of it yet.

Remus' eyes scanned across the Great Hall, looking for anyone familiar.

Unfortunately, he did.

The next moments felt like a blur, unreal. So much death, so much loss. Fred, Tonks. It wasn't fair. None of this was. The tears blurred your vision, your reality slipped away as the crushing actuality of all the lost people crushed down on you. You clung to Remus for support, tears streaming freely down your face. You hadn't experienced loss like this since the first war.

You sat for the hour with everyone, mourning the losses. You could only hope that Harry would be okay, the last remnants of James and Lily. You didn't know what you'd do if you'd lost another Potter to Voldemort. You swore you'd protect Harry, but here you were, being physically with him yet feeling unable to protect him. You knew that you were no match for Voldemort, and felt powerless.

"Harry?" You called his name softly, catching his attention.

"Yeah?"

"Be careful, Harry. I love you. Remus and I love you. I wish I could've protected you more or done something more." You shook your head, looking down.

"You've done fine, don't worry. This isn't your fault, this is Voldemort's fault." Harry replied, nervously smiling at you. Remus joined in, standing next to you and putting his hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Harry, I'm so proud of what you've accomplished. You're an amazing wizard and have gone through so much. James and Lily would be proud."

"Thanks, Remus." His voice falters, attention focusing down at the ground. You saw his mind clearly racing, and your heartbeat quickened. You knew that he was tough, that he's survived many things, but you couldn't help it. You couldn't help but to just want to take him away to a place where he could enjoy life without the danger, without the stress.

But here you were, in the middle of a battle against Voldemort where Harry had been given an ultimatum.

"I have to do it. I'm going to face Voldemort and show him that I'm not a coward. I can't let all of you suffer more because of me." Your face fell, quickly being overtaken by panic.

"Harry, no. I'm sure there's a better way we can go about this I-" He cut you off.

"No, there isn't. No one else is going to die because of me, no one." He stood up, swiftly glancing around before determinedly walking off. Tears formed in your eyes, threatening to spill. Remus wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace.

"We'll be okay, eventually, my love. Don't worry." Remus whispered in your ear, pressing a ight kiss against your earlobe.

Leaning back into his chest, you nodded subtly. You hoped so.

part 3 will happen !

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #marauders #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #remus lupin fanfiction #angst #fanfiction #hp

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arcticdementor · 3 years

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Oscar Wilde supposedly said George Bernard Shaw "has no enemies, but is intensely disliked by his friends". Socialist blogger Freddie DeBoer is the opposite: few allies, but deeply respected by his enemies. I disagree with him about everything, so naturally I am a big fan of his work - which meant I was happy to read his latest book, The Cult Of Smart.

DeBoer starts with the standard narrative of The Failing State Of American Education. Students aren't learning. The country is falling behind. Only tough no-excuses policies, standardization, and innovative reforms like charter schools can save it, as shown by their stellar performance improving test scores and graduation rates.

He argues that every word of it is a lie. American education isn't getting worse by absolute standards: students match or outperform their peers from 20 or 50 years ago. It's not getting worse by international standards: America's PISA rankings are mediocre, but the country has always scored near the bottom of international rankings, even back in the 50s and 60s when we were kicking Soviet ass and landing men on the moon. Race and gender gaps are stable or decreasing. American education is doing much as it's always done - about as well as possible, given the crushing poverty, single parent-families, violence, and racism holding back the kids it's charged with shepherding to adulthood.

…

For decades, politicians of both parties have thought of education as "the great leveller" and the key to solving poverty. If people are stuck in boring McJobs, it's because they're not well-educated enough to be surgeons and rocket scientists. Give them the education they need, and they can join the knowledge economy and rise into the upper-middle class. For lack of any better politically-palatable way to solve poverty, this has kind of become a totem: get better schools, and all those unemployed Appalachian coal miners can move to Silicon Valley and start tech companies. But you can't do that. Not everyone is intellectually capable of doing a high-paying knowledge economy job. Schools can change your intellectual potential a limited amount. Ending child hunger, removing lead from the environment, and similar humanitarian programs can do a little more, but only a little. In the end, a lot of people aren't going to make it.

So what can you do? DeBoer doesn't think there's an answer within the existing system. Instead, we need to dismantle meritocracy.

DeBoer is skeptical of "equality of opportunity". Even if you solve racism, sexism, poverty, and many other things that DeBoer repeatedly reminds us have not been solved, you'll just get people succeeding or failing based on natural talent. DeBoer agrees conservatives can be satisfied with this, but thinks leftists shouldn't be. Natural talent is just as unearned as class, race, or any other unfair advantage.

One one level, the titular Cult Of Smart is just the belief that enough education can solve any problem. But more fundamentally it's also the troubling belief that after we jettison unfair theories of superiority based on skin color, sex, and whatever else, we're finally left with what really determines your value as a human being - how smart you are. DeBoer recalls hearing an immigrant mother proudly describe her older kid's achievements in math, science, etc, "and then her younger son ran by, and she said, offhand, 'This one, he is maybe not so smart.'" DeBoer was originally shocked to hear someone describe her own son that way, then realized that he wouldn't have thought twice if she'd dismissed him as unathletic, or bad at music. Intelligence is considered such a basic measure of human worth that to dismiss someone as unintelligent seems like consigning them into the outer darkness. So DeBoer describes how early readers of his book were scandalized by the insistence on genetic differences in intelligence - isn't this denying the equality of Man, declaring some people inherently superior to others? Only if you conflate intelligence with worth, which DeBoer argues our society does constantly. It starts with parents buying Baby Einstein tapes and trying to send their kids to the best preschool, continues through the "meat grinder" of the college admissions process when everyone knows that whoever gets into Harvard is better than whoever gets into State U, and continues when the meritocracy rewards the straight-A Harvard student with a high-paying powerful job and the high school dropout with drudgery or unemployment. Even the phrase "high school dropout" has an aura of personal failure about it, in a way totally absent from "kid who always lost at Little League".

DeBoer isn't convinced this is an honest mistake. He draws attention to a sort of meta-class-war - a war among class warriors over whether the true enemy is the top 1% (this is the majority position) or the top 20% (this is DeBoer's position; if you've read Staying Classy, you'll immediately recognize this disagreement as the same one that divided the Church and UR models of class). The 1% are the Buffetts and Bezoses of the world; the 20% are the "managerial" class of well-off urban professionals, bureaucrats, creative types, and other mandarins. Opposition to the 20% is usually right-coded; describe them as "woke coastal elites who dominate academia and the media", and the Trump campaign ad almost writes itself. But some Marxists flirt with it too; the book references Elizabeth Currid-Halkett's Theory Of The Aspirational Class, and you can hear echoes of this every time Twitter socialists criticize "Vox liberals" or something. Access to the 20% is gated by college degree, and their legitimizing myth is that their education makes them more qualified and humane than the rest of us. DeBoer thinks the deification of school-achievement-compatible intelligence as highest good serves their class interest; "equality of opportunity" means we should ignore all other human distinctions in favor of the one that our ruling class happens to excel at.

So maybe equality of opportunity is a stupid goal. DeBoer argues for equality of results. This is a pretty extreme demand, but he's a Marxist and he means what he says. He wants a world where smart people and dull people have equally comfortable lives, and where intelligence can take its rightful place as one of many virtues which are nice to have but not the sole measure of your worth.

…

I'm Freddie's ideological enemy, which means I have to respect him. And there's a lot to like about this book. I think its two major theses - that intelligence is mostly innate, and that this is incompatible with equating it to human value - are true, important, and poorly appreciated by the general population. I tried to make a somewhat similar argument in my Parable Of The Talents, which DeBoer graciously quotes in his introduction. Some of the book's peripheral theses - that a lot of education science is based on fraud, that US schools are not declining in quality, etc - are also true, fascinating, and worth spreading. Overall, I think this book does more good than harm.

It's also rambling, self-contradictory in places, and contains a lot of arguments I think are misguided or bizarre.

…

At the time, I noted that meritocracy has nothing to do with this. The intuition behind meritocracy is: if your life depends on a difficult surgery, would you prefer the hospital hire a surgeon who aced medical school, or a surgeon who had to complete remedial training to barely scrape by with a C-? If you prefer the former, you’re a meritocrat with respect to surgeons. Generalize a little, and you have the argument for being a meritocrat everywhere else.

The above does away with any notions of "desert", but I worry it's still accepting too many of DeBoer's assumptions. A better description might be: Your life depends on a difficult surgery. You can hire whatever surgeon you want to perform it. You are willing to pay more money for a surgeon who aced medical school than for a surgeon who failed it. So higher intelligence leads to more money.

This not only does away with "desert", but also with reified Society deciding who should prosper. More meritorious surgeons get richer not because "Society" has selected them to get rich as a reward for virtue, but because individuals pursuing their incentives prefer, all else equal, not to die of botched surgeries. Meritocracy isn't an -ocracy like democracy or autocracy, where people in wigs sit down to frame a constitution and decide how things should work. It's a dubious abstraction over the fact that people prefer to have jobs done well rather than poorly, and use their financial and social clout to make this happen.

…

I think DeBoer would argue he's not against improving schools. He just thinks all attempts to do it so far have been crooks and liars pillaging the commons, so much so that we need a moratorium on this kind of thing until we can figure out what's going on. But I'm worried that his arguments against existing school reform are in some cases kind of weak.

DeBoer does make things hard for himself by focusing on two of the most successful charter school experiments. If he'd been a little less honest, he could have passed over these and instead mentioned the many charter schools that fail, or just sort of plod onward doing about as well as public schools do. I think the closest thing to a consensus right now is that most charter schools do about the same as public schools for white/advantaged students, and slightly better than public schools for minority/disadvantaged students. But DeBoer very virtuously thinks it's important to confront his opponents' strongest cases, so these are the ones I'll focus on here.

…

These are good points, and I would accept them from anyone other than DeBoer, who will go on to say in a few chapters that the solution to our education issues is a Marxist revolution that overthrows capitalism and dispenses with the very concept of economic value. If he's willing to accept a massive overhaul of everything, that's failed every time it's tried, why not accept a much smaller overhaul-of-everything, that's succeeded at least once? There are plenty of billionaires willing to pour fortunes into reforming various cities - DeBoer will go on to criticize them as deluded do-gooders a few chapters later. If billions of dollars plus a serious commitment to ground-up reform are what we need, let's just spend billions of dollars and have a serious commitment to ground-up reform! If more hurricanes is what it takes to fix education, I'm willing to do my part by leaving my air conditioner on 'high' all the time.

…

DeBoer spends several impassioned sections explaining how opposed he is to scientific racism, and arguing that the belief that individual-level IQ differences are partly genetic doesn't imply a belief that group-level IQ differences are partly genetic. Some reviewers of this book are still suspicious, wondering if he might be hiding his real position. I can assure you he is not. Seriously, he talks about how much he hates belief in genetic group-level IQ differences about thirty times per page. Also, sometimes when I write posts about race, he sends me angry emails ranting about how much he hates that some people believe in genetic group-level IQ differences - totally private emails nobody else will ever see. I have no reason to doubt that his hatred of this is as deep as he claims.

But I understand why some reviewers aren't convinced. This book can't stop tripping over itself when it tries to discuss these topics. DeBoer grants X, he grants X -> Y, then goes on ten-page rants about how absolutely loathsome and abominable anyone who believes Y is.

Remember, one of the theses of this book is that individual differences in intelligence are mostly genetic. But DeBoer spends only a little time citing the studies that prove this is true. He (correctly) decides that most of his readers will object not on the scientific ground that they haven't seen enough studies, but on the moral ground that this seems to challenge the basic equality of humankind. He (correctly) points out that this is balderdash, that innate differences in intelligence don't imply differences in moral value, any more than innate differences in height or athletic ability or anything like that imply differences in moral value. His goal is not just to convince you about the science, but to convince you that you can believe the science and still be an okay person who respects everyone and wants them to be happy.

He could have written a chapter about race that reinforced this message. He could have reviewed studies about whether racial differences in intelligence are genetic or environmental, come to some conclusion or not, but emphasized that it doesn't matter, and even if it's 100% genetic it has no bearing at all on the need for racial equality and racial justice, that one race having a slightly higher IQ than another doesn't make them "superior" any more than Pygmies' genetic short stature makes them "inferior".

Instead he - well, I'm not really sure what he's doing. He starts by says racial differences must be environmental. Then he says that studies have shown that racial IQ gaps are not due to differences in income/poverty, because the gaps remain even after controlling for these. But, he says, there could be other environmental factors aside from poverty that cause racial IQ gaps. After tossing out some possibilities, he concludes that he doesn't really need to be able to identify a plausible mechanism, because "white supremacy touches on so many aspects of American life that it's irresponsible to believe we have adequately controlled for it", no matter how many studies we do or how many confounders we eliminate. His argument, as far as I can tell, is that it's always possible that racial IQ differences are environmental, therefore they must be environmental. Then he goes on to, at great length, denounce as loathsome and villainous anyone who might suspect these gaps of being genetic. Such people are "noxious", "bigoted", "ugly", "pseudoscientific" "bad people" who peddle "propaganda" to "advance their racist and sexist agenda". (But tell us what you really think!)

…

This is far enough from my field that I would usually defer to expert consensus, but all the studies I can find which try to assess expert consensus seem crazy. A while ago, I freaked out upon finding a study that seemed to show most expert scientists in the field agreed with Murray's thesis in 1987 - about three times as many said the gap was due to a combination of genetics and environment as said it was just environment. Then I freaked out again when I found another study (here is the most recent version, from 2020) showing basically the same thing (about four times as many say it’s a combination of genetics and environment compared to just environment). I can't find any expert surveys giving the expected result that they all agree this is dumb and definitely 100% environment and we can move on (I'd be very relieved if anybody could find those, or if they could explain why the ones I found were fake studies or fake experts or a biased sample, or explain how I'm misreading them or that they otherwise shouldn't be trusted. If you have thoughts on this, please send me an email). I've vacillated back and forth on how to think about this question so many times, and right now my personal probability estimate is "I am still freaking out about this, go away go away go away". And I understand I have at least two potentially irresolveable biases on this question: one, I'm a white person in a country with a long history of promoting white supremacy; and two, if I lean in favor then everyone will hate me, and use it as a bludgeon against anyone I have ever associated with, and I will die alone in a ditch and maybe deserve it. So the best I can do is try to route around this issue when considering important questions. This is sometimes hard, but the basic principle is that I'm far less sure of any of it than I am sure that all human beings are morally equal and deserve to have a good life and get treated with respect regardless of academic achievement.

…

That last sentence about the basic principle is the thesis of The Cult Of Smart, so it would have been a reasonable position for DeBoer to take too. DeBoer doesn't take it. He acknowledges the existence of expert scientists who believe the differences are genetic (he names Linda Gottfredson in particular), but only to condemn them as morally flawed for asserting this.

But this is exactly the worldview he is, at this very moment, trying to write a book arguing against! His thesis is that mainstream voices say there can't be genetic differences in intelligence among individuals, because that would make some people fundamentally inferior to others, which is morally repugnant - but those voices are wrong, because differences in intelligence don't affect moral equality. Then he adds that mainstream voices say there can't be genetic differences in intelligence among ethnic groups, because that would make some groups fundamentally inferior to others, which is morally repugnant - and those voices are right; we must deny the differences lest we accept the morally repugnant thing.

Normally I would cut DeBoer some slack and assume this was some kind of Straussian manuever he needed to do to get the book published, or to prevent giving ammunition to bad people. But no, he has definitely believed this for years, consistently, even while being willing to offend basically anybody about basically anything else at any time. So I'm convinced this is his true belief. I'm just not sure how he squares it with the rest of his book.

…

"Smart" equivocates over two concepts - high-IQ and successful-at-formal-education. These concepts are related; in general, high-IQ people get better grades, graduate from better colleges, etc. But they're not exactly the same.

There is a cult of successful-at-formal-education. Society obsesses over how important formal education is, how it can do anything, how it's going to save the world. If you get gold stars on your homework, become the teacher's pet, earn good grades in high school, and get into an Ivy League, the world will love you for it.

But the opposite is true of high-IQ. Society obsessively denies that IQ can possibly matter. Admit to being a member of Mensa, and you'll get a fusillade of "IQ is just a number!" and "people who care about their IQ are just overcompensating for never succeeding at anything real!" and "IQ doesn't matter, what about emotional IQ or grit or whatever else, huh? Bet you didn't think of that!" Science writers and Psychology Today columnists vomit out a steady stream of bizarre attempts to deny the statistical validity of IQ.

These are two sides of the same phenomenon. Some people are smarter than others as adults, and the more you deny innate ability, the more weight you have to put on education. Society wants to put a lot of weight on formal education, and compensates by denying innate ability a lot. DeBoer is aware of this and his book argues against it adeptly.

Still, I worry that the title - The Cult Of Smart - might lead people to think there is a cult surrounding intelligence, when exactly the opposite is true. But I guess The Cult Of Successful At Formal Education sounds less snappy, so whatever.

…

I try to review books in an unbiased way, without letting myself succumb to fits of emotion. So be warned: I'm going to fail with this one. I am going to get angry and write whole sentences in capital letters. This is one of the most enraging passages I've ever read.

School is child prison. It's forcing kids to spend their childhood - a happy time! a time of natural curiosity and exploration and wonder - sitting in un-air-conditioned blocky buildings, cramped into identical desks, listening to someone drone on about the difference between alliteration and assonance, desperate to even be able to fidget but knowing that if they do their teacher will yell at them, and maybe they'll get a detention that extends their sentence even longer without parole. The anti-psychiatric-abuse community has invented the "Burrito Test" - if a place won't let you microwave a burrito without asking permission, it's an institution. Doesn't matter if the name is "Center For Flourishing" or whatever and the aides are social workers in street clothes instead of nurses in scrubs - if it doesn't pass the Burrito Test, it's an institution. There is no way school will let you microwave a burrito without permission. THEY WILL NOT EVEN LET YOU GO TO THE BATHROOM WITHOUT PERMISSION. YOU HAVE TO RAISE YOUR HAND AND ASK YOUR TEACHER FOR SOMETHING CALLED "THE BATHROOM PASS" IN FRONT OF YOUR ENTIRE CLASS, AND IF SHE DOESN'T LIKE YOU, SHE CAN JUST SAY NO.

I don't like actual prisons, the ones for criminals, but I will say this for them - people keep them around because they honestly believe they prevent crime. If someone found proof-positive that prisons didn't prevent any crimes at all, but still suggested that we should keep sending people there, because it means we'd have "fewer middle-aged people on the streets" and "fewer adults forced to go home to empty apartments and houses", then MAYBE YOU WOULD START TO UNDERSTAND HOW I FEEL ABOUT SENDING PEOPLE TO SCHOOL FOR THE SAME REASON.

I sometimes sit in on child psychiatrists' case conferences, and I want to scream at them. There's the kid who locks herself in the bathroom every morning so her parents can't drag her to child prison, and her parents stand outside the bathroom door to yell at her for hours until she finally gives in and goes, and everyone is trying to medicate her or figure out how to remove the bathroom locks, and THEY ARE SOLVING THE WRONG PROBLEM. There are all the kids who had bedwetting or awful depression or constant panic attacks, and then as soon as the coronavirus caused the child prisons to shut down the kids mysteriously became instantly better. I have heard stories of kids bullied to the point where it would be unfair not to call it torture, and the child prisons respond according to Procedures which look very good on paper and hit all the right We-Are-Taking-This-Seriously buzzwords but somehow never result in the kids not being tortured every day, and if the kids' parents were to stop bringing them to child prison every day to get tortured anew the cops would haul those parents to jail, and sometimes the only solution is the parents to switch them to the charter schools THAT FREDDIE DEBOER WANTS TO SHUT DOWN.

I see people on Twitter and Reddit post their stories from child prison, all of which they treat like it's perfectly normal. The district that wanted to save money, so it banned teachers from turning the heat above 50 degrees in the depths of winter. The district that decided running was an unsafe activity, and so any child who ran or jumped or played other-than-sedately during recess would get sent to detention - yeah, that's fine, let's just make all our children spent the first 18 years of their life somewhere they're not allowed to run, that'll be totally normal child development. You might object that they can run at home, but of course teachers assign three hours of homework a day despite ample evidence that homework does not help learning. Preventing children from having any free time, or the ability to do any of the things they want to do seems to just be an end in itself. Every single doctor and psychologist in the world has pointed out that children and teens naturally follow a different sleep pattern than adults, probably closer to 12 PM to 9 AM than the average adult's 10 - 7. Child prisons usually start around 7 or 8 AM, meaning any child who shows up on time is necessarily sleep-deprived in ways that probably harm their health and development.

School forces children to be confined in an uninhabitable environment, restrained from moving, and psychologically tortured in a state of profound sleep deprivation, under pain of imprisoning their parents if they refuse. The only possible justification for this is that it achieves some kind of vital social benefit like eliminating poverty. If it doesn't, you might as well replace it with something less traumatizing, like child labor. The kid will still have to spend eight hours of their day toiling in a terrible environment, but at least they’ll get some pocket money! At least their boss can't tell them to keep working off the clock under the guise of "homework"! I have worked as a medical resident, widely considered one of the most horrifying and abusive jobs it is possible to take in a First World country. I can say with absolute confidence that I would gladly do another four years of residency if the only alternative was another four years of high school.

If I have children, I hope to be able to homeschool them. But if I can't homeschool them, I am incredibly grateful that the option exists to send them to a charter school that might not have all of these problems. I'm not as impressed with Montessori schools as some of my friends are, but at least as far as I can tell they let kids wander around free-range, and don't make them use bathroom passes. DeBoer not only wants to keep the whole prison-cum-meat-grinder alive and running, even after having proven it has no utility, he also wants to shut the only possible escape my future children will ever get unless I'm rich enough to quit work and care for them full time.

When I try to keep a cooler head about all of this, I understand that Freddie DeBoer doesn't want this. He is not a fan of freezing-cold classrooms or sleep deprivation or bullying or bathroom passes. In fact, he will probably blame all of these on the "neoliberal reformers" (although I went to school before most of the neoliberal reforms started, and I saw it all). He will say that his own utopian schooling system has none of this stuff. In fact, he does say that. He sketches what a future Marxist school system might look like, and it looks pretty much like a Montessori school looks now. That just makes it really weird that he wants to shut down all the schools that resemble his ideal today (or make them only available to the wealthy) in favor of forcing kids into schools about as different from it as it's possible for anything to be.

I am so, so tired of socialists who admit that the current system is a helltopian torturescape, then argue that we must prevent anyone from ever being able to escape it. Who promise that once the last alternative is closed off, once the last nice green place where a few people manage to hold off the miseries of the world is crushed, why then the helltopian torturescape will become a lovely utopia full of rainbows and unicorns. If you can make your system less miserable, make your system less miserable! Do it before forcing everyone else to participate in it under pain of imprisonment if they refuse! Forcing everyone to participate in your system and then making your system something other than a meat-grinder that takes in happy children and spits out dead-eyed traumatized eighteen-year-olds who have written 10,000 pages on symbolism in To Kill A Mockingbird and had zero normal happy experiences - is doing things super, super backwards!

#scott alexander #substack #book review #fredrik deboer #public schooling #long #read the whole thing

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