#He is more than capable of hurling insults to the point of cutting into people

[rawliverandgoronspice]

"And I genuinely don’t think either of you understand HOW Zelda turns back to a Hylian at the end of the game.

I’m sorry but these are exceptionally poor analysis and criticisms of the game and it’s cut scenes." As the anon who wrote the ask who started this, I'll just say... nah. Also, pro-tip, don’t be angry, eat a banany. 🍌 You say that all the elements give a lot of insight into Zelda, her relationship, and all that… and then just explain it in the most barebones accusatory way possible, instead of just giving a polite counter and constructively explaining WHY you disagree. Since you apparently just wanna be angy that someone doesn’t like what you likes, and explains why they criticise it, I don’t think there really is a point to argue.   Honestly, my best tip is: Eat nanner, shhhhhhh, touch grass, go sleep. Move on. Ps: Banana’s are the worst.

Also, lemme add, add some spice to your salt: “It reveals Zelda’s feelings for Link which have clearly significantly changed since Breath of the Wild.” I did not feel like they changed much at all, Zelda still feels like she’s simping for Link hard, it's just a few years later now. 😜 Extra bonus: Yeah we know why Zelda got turned back into a Hylian with no repercussions. Bc it had to happen, bc reasons-McGuffin.

Hey!

Yeah, sorry this thing escalated on your ask anon. It got significantly worse after that, so I did block the person because at some point it becomes clear they were having an argument with someone who was simply not in this virtual room and might probably not exist at all anywhere, so there was no point in engaging with a brick wall who was hurling insults based on half a paragraph taken out of context. Pretty sad way to use your free time or deploy love for the media you enjoy, but! To each their own I suppose.

But yeah, I did look it over to see if I missed something, because somebody's tone being inacceptable doesn't mean their arguments also are, but. Yeah. Zelda had her arc of going from being cold and angry with Link to learning to rely on him in Breath of the Wild already, and then literally holds the fort for a hundred years just holding on to the desperate trust that he will arise and become a hero and be capable of defeating the scourge if only she can buy him as much time as she can, which is *crazy* devotion-wise (and also active! in TotK she mostly talks about how much she trusts Link --I guess she turns into a dragon to restore the Master Sword for him, but again I don't believe she really has any other choice and it's not a struggle she must maintain over a hundred years always relying on her own resolve all the way through, so it doesn't translate as hard in my opinion). It's literally her affection for Link and her urge to protect him that awakens her powers! This arc worked great in Breath of the Wild! But TotK loves nothing more than to rethread every character's arc, except again, but less compelling and complicated and without emotional rises or character changes.

Also: a kind tumblr user out there who did not play any game but TotK, believing the marketing that you could basically jump in blind, pointed out to me that there is *no way* to catch onto any of that complexity of their relationship if you haven't played BotW (not that I think it particularly helps). Same deal with the parental thing: they did not bring up the relationship between Zelda and her dad at any point, which makes it a non-information for newcomers. While it is fine to lose some degree of nuance and be a little confused if you jump in a second videogame after the first videogame, you still need to provide something for people to hang onto, and, as I feared, the refusals to expand on BotW backstory didn't seem to help the newcomers familiarize themselves with Hyrule particularly well. Even in extremely well known IPs, it is important to re-establish the bases: jedis are sensitive with the Force, the Ring corrupts its bearer, etc etc. And this was not particularly well done here (for example: it is never explained that Ganondorf is a sorcerer on top of being a Huge Guy that will break your spine with a punch, which makes the appearance of Puppet Zelda *before* he grabs the stone extremely confusing --this relies on pre-assumptions about Ganondorf and a familiarity with the series and its tropes to make any sense, and this is yet another example of what I mean by: this game is awfully self-referential while not really standing on its own two feet).

As for the argument that Zelda was returned to a hylian because of Rauru's arm, Rauru again but ghost (??? hello again?) and Sonia (??? WHY are you here) are actually using recall on the Secret Stone? It's a cool headcanon, and honestly that would have been great and made sense (I mean, a little empty thematically again but at least a cool setup and payoff), but I see nothing that supports that in practice beyond that the power deployed is the color of gold, which, yes, is the color of Recall, buuuut it's also the color of Light and good things and the Triforce and divinity and a billion other things.

If this was what we were meant to take away, then: 1) the actual particles and sound effect of Recall should have been used instead of a vague halo of magical sparkles and 2) the Secret Stone should have hovered and glowed above her chest Laputa-style (thinking of Sheeta from Castle in the Sky, which I'm 99,9% sure was the visual inspiration anyway).

This does not happen. If them using Recall was the intent, then it's badly conveyed. But I see no textual reason to believe this is what's going on.

#asks #thoughts #totk spoilers #totk critical #when will my brain return from the imprisoning war... #zelda #botw #thanks for the ask! #general note however: #I always welcome nice asks that are kindly showing support in uhhh trying times haha #but try to not attack the other part anonymously through the ask system #it puts me in pretty awkward situations where I want to be !! thank you!! but also not. stir up the flames. #I don't particularly want to foster an atmosphere of vindictiveness if I can help it!!

[writer-akihiko]

Could I get the dorm leader’s reactions to a fem!S/O who punched a student because he was being creepy towards her?

Dorm Leaders + MC Punching Someone

Credits to my precious wife The Miss; I have never punched someone and my wife teaches and does self defense and martial arts, so she helped me out greatly. Work is cut for length purposes.

Warnings: creepy behaviour from NPC students, protective behaviour dorm leaders

Malleus Draconia

Malleus knew it was moments after your last class finished, so why were you late?

Sebek quickly noticed his master, and said that the teacher called for you

He wasted no time rushing to the teacher's room, only for it to be empty…

"I have nothing to do with you!"

He heard your voice, rushing to the source. You were in the gardens with another annoying student…

Unknowingly, he gathered his magic at his fingertips, ready to attack

CRACK!

Your lover witnessed you sucker punch that student right in the nose

What was this? That child of man was deadlier than he thought… and the thought thrilled him

The student scurried away, with a bleeding nose and that was when Malleus revealed himself

He watched as his YN shifted to her timid self once more. Maybe she was embarrassed?

"I witnessed all of it," He said. "My little treasure… you're quite the silent fierce type aren't you?"

You accepted Malleus taking you in his arms. You snuggled into his shoulders, knowing no one was there. "Only to people who annoy me. I'd never do that to you."

He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, enjoying this moment with you. "As much as I witnessed how capable you were YN, if those punches ever graze your skin, I might not hesitate to skin them…"

You smacked Malleus playfully. "I swear, I can be safe."

Malleus overall was thrilled every time you showed any display of your strength, although you were quite docile with him so he'd have to sneak around to see you pummel some worthless students

Riddle Rosehearts

He was severely upset that your absence caused his unbirthday party to be delayed

He asked for Ace and Deuce to search for you, but he himself found you near the school labs

Oh, how his blood boiled seeing that it was a Heartsyabul student approaching you…

He was about to approach the student and call him off for his rude remarks, but he didn't expect what was coming next

You punched the much taller student in the stomach, and the student hurled over in pain

"You… You-!"

"I dare you to continue that sentence…" Riddle said, stepping out and standing next to you

He shamelessly brought your knuckles to his lips, "Did you bruise your knuckles my Queen?"

The student tried to run away, but Riddle was quicker to respond

"Off With Your Head."

He would certainly have fun punishing the ignorant student later, but for now he had to tend to you

"I never knew you could do that," He admitted, escorting you back to the location of the unbirthday party. "I'm quite surprised."

You shook your head, feeling a bit shy that Riddle of all people was praising you so. "It's self defense. I'm not one to go around punching people…"

Riddle after having knowledge of your skills wouldn't be afraid to leave you alone, and he'd have his little fantasy of you teaching him some physical defense… With you two being close… He can dream can't he?

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim had you seated next to him during one of Scarabia's parties, enjoying the festivities

Jamil had come over, asking you to excuse your boyfriend as other guests had arrived and were awaiting the host of the events

Kalim greeted the guests, although his voice was slightly strained since all he could think about was getting back to you

As he let the guests roam around, he took one glance at where you were supposed to be…

And saw the view of someone chatting you up…

Well, as the charismatic host he is, he has to put this student in his place-

CRASH!

The student fell onto a small table of snacks after you punched that student from getting too close

"I said," You poured the remaining of your drink on his head. "I don't want to be bothered."

Kalim's jaw dropped at the entire scene, and in his heart he might've been a little afraid of you

As he turned to Jamil, Jamil shook his head. "I didn't teach her that."

After the other servants cleaned the mess up, Kalim approach you cautiously. Giving you a hug from behind

He was relieved feeling your shoulders relax, but he had to make sure…

"YN… Would you punch me if I ever upset you?"

You quickly faced Kalim, holding his face in your hands, shaking your head. "No I won't. That guy was just being annoying…" You gave him a cheeky peck on his jaw. "And how could I ruin this adorable face?"

Kalim didn't mind you punching whoever annoyed you, but he was very impressed that it had gotten to the point where if someone bothered you, Kalim would be on the sidelines cheering at you

Azul Ashengrotto

As the dorm leader who runs the Mostro Lounge, Azul and the Leech twins would be typically busy with the constant rush of customers

In this instance he was grateful that you were willing to help out with the rush hours

He had you and the twins busy taking orders as he organised his contracts

There shouldn't be any troublesome patrons, or that's what he thought…

"Hey! Pretty waitress, why don't you sit with us? I'll buy you a drink!" Some sleazy customer hollered at you

You tried to ignore the students, continuing your duties. Floyd and Jade were too busy to kick them out, but you thought that they could be dealt with later…

From his view, Azul could only watch in disgust as the student dared to pull you to him

Before the student could put his hands on you, you swiped a clean punch across his face

The moment that happened, Azul couldn't help but laugh

The clique of the knocked out student scrambled out, intimidated by the creepy auras the twins emitted, and the way the Lounge owner's eyes pierced their core

You held your wrist in your hand, shaking off the slight pain. Jade and Floyd quickly escorted you to Azul's office area, and Jade even gave you a pat on the head for a job well done

Azul couldn't help himself from hugging you tight, showering you in praises and kissing your hand even though you insisted you weren't seriously injured

"My Angelfish… I should hire you for the Lounge's security instead," He joked, sitting next to you. "Actually… Do as you like! I get quite entertained with that fiery look in your eyes when you do get a hit or two!"

Long story short, you instead worked closely with Azul as a pseudo-bodyguard

Idia Shroud

Idia enjoyed his quiet time, especially quiet time with you, Ortho and video games

He didn't usually go outside, but he would always walk with you after class since you always calmed his nerves

Sometimes, if he was bold enough, he'd ask to walk hand in hand with you after a school day

At times, you could hear the gossip of some students, particularly about Idia…

On one day, Idia had to meet up with Azul due to club work. You decided to meet up with Ortho while waiting for Idia, since Idia wanted to continue his game's story mode with you

Idia quickly finished his business, but as he exited the room, he couldn't help but eavesdrop an interesting conversation…

"Why don't you hang out with us instead of that shut-in of a dorm leader?"

His attention was on the group of boys talking to you, closing in on you

He was caught off guard as you punched the leader square in the nose

"That's for insulting my boyfriend."

Idia had to admit that he got excited over you being so cool! It's like you're the protagonist that rescues the archmage-

Wait… That means that he's the archmage…

After scaring away the group away, Idia ran up to you, hugging you. His jacket covered you both, as you looked up at Idia…

"YN… Thank you…"

Leona Kingscholar

Leona always invites you to laze around, so when you were late, he got irritated

He was competent enough to memorise your schedule, so he knew where you would most likely be

He made his presence known, although he didn't care about the other students in his way

His ears perked up hearing your voice. Why were you in the labs?

He peaked inside to see some boys corner you. Ah… Some students that don't know their place…

"C'mon! Just one date and then you can go to that lion boy toy of yours!"

Oh… Now he was ticked off…

Before he could make a grand entrance, he heard a thud

The student hurled over in pain, clutching his lower half and gasping for air…

Oh… so the little herbivore punched him there…

He couldn't help but laugh, kicking the door open. You immediately went to his side, huffing away from those rude students

As Leona escorted you to his room, he mischievously called you out on it, "I didn't take you for one to go for the crown jewels… You gotta sanitise your hands before touching my sheets though."

You poked Leona's cheek, stopping him from teasing you, "And you, Leona, I might kick yours instead if you don't stop teasing me!"

You yelped, being carried by him. "No can do YN~"

Vil Schoenheit

Vil wondered why you didn't come find him after classes. You'd usually have some afternoon tea with him

He didn't think you'd skip out on purpose, so he commanded Rook to search for you

He also walked around, asking the students in your year whether they saw you or not

He grew anxious, quickening his pace until he heard your voice-

"I don't have anything to do with you, so stop it!"

He turned the corner, seeing you and your arms crossed and a group of students confronting you

One reached out their hand to you, which you retaliated by punching him square in the jaw

The student fell on his other friends, and Vil decided that this was enough

"Ah… I don't think it was wise to mess with my sweet potato…"

The remaining students scrambled to their feet, fearing the dorm leader's magic

"Scram, won't you?"

Vil didn't need to say it twice. The students disappeared, leaving you with Vil

Vil hugged you, patting your head. "My YN… I'm glad that you can defend yourself, but if you continue to do this, your knuckles will be bruised and I refuse to allow that."

You stood on your toes, pecking him on the cheek. "I appreciate the thought Vil."

#twisted wonderland #twst scenarios #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #riddle rosehearts #riddle x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul x reader #idia shroud #idia x reader #leona kingscholar #leona x reader #kalim al asim #kalim x reader #vil schoenheit #vil x reader #twisted wonderland scenarios

[my-writings-and-musings]

Can I please have a short story of the prompt of the human reader being used as a sheild, and the human has a communicator allowing the bots to trace their signal? And can I please have ratchet, tailgate, cyclones, and drift for this?

I have headcannons for now because I'm spread really thin lately, but I hope you like it! Also I love this prompt in particular because every bot on the ship needs to be told how special and wonderful they are, and what better way to show them than by shouting their praises at an enemy with ample swearing?

Part One: Here!

Part Two: You're Here!

Ratchet

·Your relationship to the medic had allowed some of the restraint he needed for his high stress job to rub off on you, but that's also true of his testiness, so when you reach your breaking point it's quite the sight. The bot that kidnapped you for a ransom learns the loud way just how passionately you adore your grumpy bot when they crack another joke about Ratchet's age and you simply lose it. Held back by your chains, you crack that the bot who kidnapped you couldn't accomplish what Ratchet has if they had a billion years to do so, and what right do they have to insult when they look the way they do? "Call him old all you want, he looks better now than you ever have and ever will!"

·Perhaps it's the fact that the tiny human just insulted their appearance of all things, but the bot is frozen at the communicator, and somehow that makes you angrier. It's clearer to you now than ever before why Ratchet hurls wrenches at the bots that annoy him; nothing would be more satisfying than the "thunk" of a well aimed projectile at this jerk's head. As it stands you're willing to settle for using your words as the only weapons you have. Laughing bitterly, you ask your captor if they're only able to win an argument with bots that can't fight back, which would explain why they need you as a shield AND the corpses they keep as company. The last dig actually gets them moving towards you with a threat, but when they refer to Ratchet as your "rusty old paramour" you get a renewed burst of rage and go off once more.

·"Are you seriously trying to insult Ratchet of all bots?! Do you have any idea what he's capable of?! How many lives he's saved?! What have you accomplished lately, huh?! Besides EXTORTION?!" Feeling a tad bit flushed, it's impossible not to go all out in your tirade, especially because it feels so darn good after suffering in silence for so long. It doesn't hurt that you have so much material to work with either. This raging jerk is living in a corpse filled lair and kidnapping humans to ransom them off for cash, and they're going after one of the greatest medics the Autobots ever had? Cutting them down to size should be classified as doing the universe a favor! If you weren't so incredibly frustrated, and dangling from chains, you might have found this enjoyable.

·"Seriously! Ratchet does more good for the universe in a week than you could do in a lifetime! Plus, you think age is holding him back?! The bot walks right off the battlefield after carving up bad guys like you, only to waltz into the medibay to patch up everyone else, on a daily basis!" Though not impressed, it does appear that your captor is rethinking some things, and perhaps actually realizing they've made a pretty formidable enemy. Had that not been such a flagrantly obvious fact you'd have been satisfied. Instead you just keep going, your intense love for your docbot mingling with your frustration to pour forth in a never-ending stream of loving threats. Only a total power outage cuts off a tangent about how Ratchet's age has not impacted his ability or endurance in "other areas" of your relationship either...

·The darkness is broken by flashing lights and the crackle of energy weapons firing all around, and you just manage to catch some familiar colors flashing through the dark before a very welcome red and white frame swoops in to carefully slice you out of the chains with a laser scalpel. There's just enough time to catch a smile overflowing with emotion before you're taken into gentle hands, and as Ratchet takes you back to the ship you get a glimpse of your very roughed up kidnapper being cuffed by the remaining crew. Your partner takes you straight to the medical bay, fussing over you all the way and asking a thousand questions about your wellbeing, but without any of his usual gruffness as he does so. In fact, he's probably the softest you've ever seen him. The smile never once leaves his face as he insists on getting you fed and rested and to bed where he pulls the covers over you himself.

·In the aftermath he almost seems to melt in your presence, losing most of his grumpy persona every time he's with you no matter how long or difficult a day he's had. Though you obviously don't mind, a couple bots let you know that when you were kidnapped he was the closest to losing control anyone had ever seen him. He'd been shouting and cursing until you had interrupted the latest communication with your captor, at which point he'd been so shocked others had needed to rush in and take advantage of the prolonged signal. Evidently, hearing you defend him as you did had rocked his world in the best possible way. Between working a stressful and often thankless profession, and not ever hearing you shout in such a way before, he's been touched to learn he could be loved by someone who appreciates him as you do. It's enough to keep even the worst of grumpy days from affecting him.

Tailgate

·Truth be told, your greatest concern when you were kidnapped was for your tiny SO, as his propensity for panic could result in some very unpleasant anxiety attacks while he and the others try to rescue you. That worry on his behalf turned to fury when your kidnapper refused to stop mocking the little bot for everything from his size to his age and even for supposedly choosing an organic solely to be taller than someone. It's enough to make you see red, and your limit is quickly reached as a result of the cowardly bullying. Your explosive bout of rage is a scream of frustration that quickly morphs into an unstoppable tirade that pulls no punches. Has this big jerk been planning this for any length of time you ask, because if so, you know a couple of sparklings that could think of more mature insults!

·"Really?! You make fun of bots for being short?! He's also blue, you want to pick on him for something arbitrary, why limit yourself?!" You know it's not the smoothest insult, but darn it all, you can't bring yourself to think straight with all this rage. This bot needs to hear what an absolute creep and bully they are, because seriously who gloats like a real life cartoon villain? When they leave the communicator and try to get in your face you're only further incensed, channeling your tiny partner's courage as you wish beyond the telling of it you could punch the jerk into silence. "If there's gonna be insults, how about I open the floor to some genuine digs? Because your ugly mug is a GOLDMINE of material, okay?! Seriously, does Unicron ask YOU for beauty tips?!"

·There's sputtering in response, which you just take as a go ahead to tear them apart, because at this point you're not sure if you can really stop. After all, record shattering hideous face aside, what does this bot actually have to offer? Tailgate has saved millions! Faced with multiple varieties of death, he took out the guy hellbent on committing species wide genocide, and he doesn't even brag about it! You rub that in your captors face with all the pride you have for your partner spurring you on, hoping that you get a chance to tell Tailgate what a source of inspiration he was in these moments. At the very least you'll have to tell him how your captor froze at the enraged shouting. "Plus, Tailgate has actual friends! People LIKE him, unlike you, who I'm guessing doesn't entertain often based on the corpses you leave lying around!"

·A last ditch attempt to shut you up with a few lame threats just gets you laughing, in part because you can't believe this bot ever thought they were going to succeed at this. "You didn't even bother to check up on who you're making an enemy of, did you? I doubt it, because if you did, you'd know Tailgate has made paperweights out of bots much tougher than you!" Perhaps it's a little macabre, but it's endlessly satisfying to see your captor flinch as you describe what an absolute powerhouse your partner is, particularly how he uses his small size to levy his strength in the most destructive ways possible. It's delightful enough that, as you begin to brag about the benefits of his size relative to yours and his strength working together in more intimate settings, only something like an earthquake stops you.

·Chained as you are, there's no way to get a clear look at your captor as they attempt to flee, but thankfully the ground stills just in time to let you see the cavalry arrive. Lost Light bots pour in to stop the automated defenses from doing much at all, and in a brilliant blue and white blur your kidnapper is punched full to unconsciousness by what might as well have been a meteorite. It's only when said force of nature runs to free you and a tearful blue visor meets your eyes that you recognize Tailgate. The minibot gets you down in a hurry and embraces you in as tight a hug as is safe, talking a mile a minute about his worries and how sorry he is you had to go through all this. After assuring him he doesn't have to beat up your captor any further, you let him carry you back to the ship, getting nuzzled all the while.

·In between far more frequent cuddle sessions from the absolutely enamored Tailgate, you get pulled aside by a couple bots who just want to let you know what an impact your brave speech had on the minibot. While inconsolable during your kidnapping, to the point of swapping between rage and tears every few minutes, he'd been visibly awed once he heard you go off in his defense. That makes you understand everything far more clearly; this bot has been unsure of his self worth for so long, so hearing you face down a much larger foe because you love him so much that their taunting him drove you to frenzy... Knowing he's loved like that changed his entire worldview. You can see it in his visor every time he looks at you, and feel it in every buzzing hug, how grateful he is to have found someone who loves him.

Cyclonus

·Dating a bot capable of triggering enemy surrender with a glance requires a strong will, mostly to endure the endless questions from bots confused as to how you got Cyclonus to ask you out, but today you find yourself facing a whole new level of irritation. Though the bot that kidnapped you is obviously no match for your towering partner, they still mock the big mech through radio like they're some kind of badass, taunting him for debasing himself and growing soft by dating a fleshy. Regardless of how hard Cyclonus has worked to open up to you, hearing the personal jabs makes something within snap and go nuclear, resulting in a war cry your partner would be proud of as you rattle your chains for emphasis.

·"Can you just CAN IT with the insults?! We all know that if this fleshy wasn't here as your shield, you'd be fleeing to the other end of the galaxy!" You waste no time getting right to the heart of what's so infuriating about your captor; their spineless and cowardly nature is so obvious beneath the sneering mockery it makes you literally sick. Seeing how completely they freeze at your jab just proves your point in your mind. What, were they just expecting you to be quiet forever after dealing with THEM for the past few hours? Was the idea of resistance that surprising to them?! The calm maturity you picked up from Cyclonus is matched only by the capacity for righteous fury learned from the same source, and it's the latter that breaks out in glorious fashion.

·"Oh, what, nothing to say? No moronic insults for someone who can actually talk back? Do you need your debate opponents to be silent so you can think of a rebuttal?!" Your almost sarcastic jab actually earns you a demand to be silent, but it's so lacking in authority you can only laugh, despite not feeling any less furious with the situation. It's bad enough to be kidnapped and chained up, but by someone this incompetent? Being a tiny fraction of their size doesn't make you feel any less embarrassed for having been caught by them. It's enough frustration to make you snap again when they start coming in close, especially as another insult is levied at Cyclonus for having chosen a human so unpleasant due to his age and miserable attitude. The words are little more than kerosene on your already burning anger.

·"Do you really think you get to accuse Cyclonus of having a miserable attitude, you inept excuse for a kidnapper?! I'd rather have a conversation with these corpses than you! Not to mention, Cyclonus isn't limited to insulting people whenever he talks, unlike you!" The tirade is perhaps nonsensical with how passionately you begin to praise your partner's command of verse, but you're far too lost in your genuine adoration to care, especially as you begin to relay how wonderfully enticing his singing is to you. Every time your captor tries to command silence you just jump to yet another feature that makes your heart flutter, riding on the high of how incredibly good it feels to rub it all in their flustered face as you go. An attempt at describing his passionate grasp of verse around specific topics is stopped only by a door flying off its hinges in a burst of shattered metal.

·Security forces do nothing as a hulking purple figure enters through the smoke of considerable destruction, and your captor is left paralyzed with fear as they're hefted up by a clawed hand, one you're so relieved to see you can't help calling out their name. Cyclonus is content to toss the criminal to the rest of the crew as they arrive, and actually smiles once he beholds you safe. Freeing you of your bonds, he doesn't drop the chains until they're wrapped about your captor for some poetic justice. After that, you're carried to the nearest private spot on the ship and embraced without hesitation, the giant arms that have held you before almost shaking as he whispers how grateful he is to have you back. For an instant he sheds genuine tears when you hug him in return.

·Though the intensity of his emotions isn't as extreme as when he rescued you going forward, the big bot is far more open about his feelings than ever before, even showing them in full view of others. Surprised but not at all displeased, you are however quite thrown for a loop when someone recounts how incredibly worried he was during your kidnapping, in that he had to be convinced not to go after you alone and gouged some unfortunate furniture as he listened to the communications. Yet the moment you started your tirade, he was shocked to a whole new kind of silence. It's obvious that he hadn't even been able to process it at first, but now is fully overwhelmed and grateful for your love as he never was before. Hearing himself defended by someone he adores more than anything changed his perspective of himself, as well as his outlook on life, for how could he not see the beauty of a universe that had given him you?

Drift

·Sort of an interstellar hippy in his own way, Drift has taught you a lot about remaining calm through meditation, saying that a clear mind and control over anger is key to surviving high stress situations. The same philosophy is what he instructed you to use when others mocked his past, as he claims to be used to it and doesn't want anyone angering you on his behalf. This doesn't stop you from simmering in your current situation, dangling from chains as you might be, and admittedly being kidnapped tends to shorten one's fuse. Perhaps that's why you explode so dramatically when your abductor opens up the communication line just to mock your partner by claiming he hardly should be upset by an organic dying, considering his past, and that this current "relationship" is probably just a redemption stunt. That final mistake sets you off on a legendary tirade.

·"Are you KIDDING me?! You want to talk about STUNTS you wannabe kidnapping loser?! Do you have a projection disorder or something?! Because unlike you, Drift doesn't actually have to PROVE anything!" Never in your life have you wished to be the same height as the bots to this degree, granted though it's only because you want to strangle this jerk purely for the satisfaction of throttling them. Drift has worked to be better, and jabs about his past hurt him deeply, despite what he says. What right does this loser have to use that against him? You're so worked up fear isn't in your catalog of emotions when your captor tries to threaten you with physical harm. All you see is an overhyped grifter who got lucky, and you make that abundantly clear.

·"What, are you going to try threatening me, really? Am I supposed to be afraid of bluster now?!" The sight of a tiny organic growing red in the face with rage actually seems to give the bad bot pause, in part because you're so flushed they have to wonder if humans have a secret explosive ability that you're presently charging up. Admittedly you do feel like you might pop, but that's only because it's impossible to unleash all of your anger in a way that's truly satisfying, and you're left with spouting all the very justified insults that spring to mind. One particular thing that galvanizes your anger; how is this jerk pretending they would stand a chance against Drift?! The bot may be a literal ray of sunshine to you, but you're well aware of what he can do to enemies, and you doubt your kidnapper is in the dark about your paramour's combat prowess.

·"Would you be playing the big tough bot if he were anywhere near here?! Or if you didn't have me as a shield?! Because I doubt you'd last a moment in a one on one!" You shout, your tone of vitriol somewhat humorous considering that the point is a very valid one. While not afraid of Drift in the slightest, you know being on his bad side can be fatal in impressively short order. Perhaps that's why his soft approach to your relationship is even better. It's so special to you that in your current state you can't help but brag aggressively, going on about what a wonderful bot he is and that this loser could never hope to best him in combat or personality. Seeing them rethink it all just adds fuel to your fire, but before you can really get going on how Drift's gentle mannerisms extend to the bedroom you're interrupted by a cacophony of unfathomable origin.

·One of the entrances to the room you're in is sliced open by what you swear has to be ten swords at once, but as soon as it's down and the wielder charges in, you see only two held by a very angry looking Drift. Though accompanied by ample backup, he's an army of one as he reduces the security to pieces and almost dices up your captor. Only some obviously difficult self control lets him immobilize the bot instead. Not wasting time, your partner leaves the bad guy for the others to hurry to your side, his expression beaming with unmatched happiness and relief as he cuts you free and catches you in cupped hands. Shameless kisses and a million questions about whether or not you're hurt are your prelude to an open embrace. Never minding public affection in the past, he's still at a new level all the way back to the ship and in the days that follow.

·It's impossible not to go an hour without a loving nuzzle against your forehead, and whenever you aren't looking Drift is in the corner of your eye with an absolutely lovestruck expression on his sweet face, to the point you halfway imagine there could be hearts in his optics. Rodimus himself tells you in confidence that the unshakable ninjabot was barely able to keep himself steady after your kidnapping, obviously holding back a hurricane of pain and grief within his spark, but that changed in a flash as soon as he heard you. Accustomed to being derided, he'd been unprepared for such a passionate defense from anyone. Hearing you shout his praises had nearly driven him to tears. The pain of his past and the exclusion he faces for it has worn him down, to the point he often believes himself to be irredeemable, but you've made him have hope for himself for the first time in eons. Your love makes him see what he's done right, and from now on, he fully intends to give you and himself more to be proud of every day.

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#transformers #maccadam #more than meets the eye #mtmte #lost light #idw #tf #my writing #my asks #anon #prompts #ratchet x reader #ratchet #tailgate x reader #tailgate #cyclonus x reader #cyclonus #drift x reader #drift #human reader #self insert

[itsapapisongo]

Soul Nemeses! | WINWIN

Starring: Winwin ft. Hendery

Genre: Comedy | Superhero

Concept: Supervillain!Winwin (The Lobe) | Superhero!Hendery (Freakazoid)

Word Count: 2,786

Prompts: “Stop screaming, it’s just me.” + “I don’t think that’s legal, but we can work around it.”

Notes: The following is (1) an absurd short-story for the @ficscafe’s dialogue prompt event and (2) a writing exercise to get into a headspace where I can be as silly as possible. Freak Out! is a story I’m very excited for and this was a way to explore the characters and their dynamic. So, without further ado, I genuinely hope you enjoy this VERY SPECIAL EPISODE of Freak Out!

Taglist: @stayinzencity @mother-hyucker @lebrookestore @doievoir @du0tine @naptaemed

All is well in Way City.

Which is to say it’s really not and something is about to happen to disrupt that all-is-well feeling across town. Because a day can’t go by without some burglar, mad scientist, or supervillain indulging in their burglary, mad science, or super-evil shenanigans.

Thus we turn our attention to a deserted, discolored, and depressing city landmark: The Daebak Fair. Once it used to be the kind of place that burst with laughter and excitement, where money flowed every weekend and kept the owners’ pockets heavy and full. People couldn’t get enough of it until, well, they got enough of it.

So much so that it became free real estate for any villain that felt like using the abandoned fair as their lair. This changed, however, when Winwin decided he didn’t feel like sharing. He bought the place, and officially made it his holiday lair. And it’s here that our story takes place.

What once used to be a house of mirrors is now a workplace where a plethora of patented inventions specifically designed for destruction are built, reserved-engineered, dismantled, and kept out of his rivals’ hands.

With all the bells and whistles removed, the lair is quite spacious. Having decorated the place himself, Winwin has hung stolen paintings all over the walls and set tables for dissection, welding, engineering, and even, if he was ever in the mood, arts and crafts. The whole thing has Mad Scientist meets Bob Ross vibes and it’s both odd and endearing.

Winwin is currently dismantling his latest invention—a large crane-looking thingie fitted on the roof a modified golf-cart—out of boredom and frustration after being foiled once again by that red-wearing, annoying, ne’er-do-well freak of a nemesis.

“I can’t believe him,” Winwin grumbles, shaking his head for the nth time. Seeing as he’s alone, he says this to no one in particular. “I craft the perfect plan and he finds a way to thwart it!”

Who would have thought that Freakazoid would have convinced him that creating a gas capable of turning people into clown zombies to do his bidding would be the stupidest  masterplan ever? Winwin felt like he was failing as a villain, not challenging his nemesis enough. He had wondered then and still wonders now if he’s losing it, if he’s gone soft yet he knows he’s not, knows he hasn’t.

So why does this recent defeat grind his gears? Why has Freakazoid gotten to him? Though Winwin knew not to take their rivalry seriously, he sometimes did. It’s standard hero-villain stuff—to hurl insults and humiliate one another—yet something felt off.

He stops working and thinks back to their encounter.

CUT TO: HOURS AGO, IN A COLD, TALL, AND VAGUELY EUROPEAN MOUNTAIN

“Well, if you don’t mind me saying so,” Freakazoid had said, hanging off the side of a snowy cliff, for their confrontation had taken place in a cold, tall, and vaguely European mountain. With an impressive leap and a landing, he stood in front of Winwin and pointed a finger at him. “That’s the stupidest plan I’ve ever heard of! People don’t like clowns, dummy! People are terrified of clowns! Ever heard of It?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about—’tis a good plan!”

Freakazoid rolled his eyes, scoffing.“Nuh-huh.”

“Uh-huh,” Winwin replied, feeling instant regret for lowering himself to his nemesis’ childish argumentative skills. “It’s a brilliant plan!”

“No, it’s dumb, dumb, dumb!”

And then they debated like adults for a minute or two—

(“Nuh-huh.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Nuh-huh.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Nuh-huh.”

“Uh-huh.”)

—until Freakazoid clicked his tongue and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Pack it up, big brain,” he told him, not unkindly but definitely disappointed.

“Why should I? I already have a small zombie army at my disposal.”

“Small clown zombie army at your disposal.”

Winwin groaned in exasperation. “Yes, yes, that.”

“You’re doing this out here in the middle of nowhere. There aren’t even that many people around so I wouldn’t call it an army. I’d call it a small terrifying crowd.”

“Oh.”

Freakazoid nodded and crossed his arms, tilting his head to the side. “Did you even think this through?”

Winwin suddenly found himself speechless. Genuinely and anxiously speechless. He didn’t have an answer other than “I don’t know” and he hated resorting to admitting he didn’t know anything. He was the most brilliant supervillain in all of Way City—the Lobe, some called him—and admitting ignorance was (1) not on brand for him and (2) his worst nightmare.

“I don’t—I’m not sure—I—”

“Alright, you.” Freakazoid shook his head and gently guided him away by his elbow. “Pack it up. Get out of here.”

“But—”

“No butts, not tiddies, not ding-a-lings,” said the hero, his pout a judgemental feature in his face. “I expected a lot more from you. Clown zombies? Aiya.”

“I—” Winwin’s eyes widened and he felt them welling up with tears. “You’re right. I think I’m overdoing it. I might be overtired. It’s the best I could do on such short notice.”

“Turn off the cloud.”

And so he did. Winwin turned to see Freakazoid—lean, clad in red, black domino mask concealing his identity, his insignia that of F and an exclamation point on his chest, his black hair, slicked back as always, haswhite streak in the shape of a bolt across it—grimacing back at him. For a second, Winwin thought he could hear the world’s tiniest violin play a sad tune for himself as he pouted and got on the modified golf-cart he’d driven around the mountain to spread the gas around.

“Hey, big brain,” he heard Freakazoid call after him, the hero’s voice distant. He noticed it had softened somewhat. “It’s a dumb plan but I know you can do better.”

“Thanks, Freakazoid,” Winwin mumbled as his nemesis gave him a thumbs-up.

The moment was ruined the moment the idiot in red opened his mouth again—

“Now, git!”

CUT TO: NOW, BACK TO WINWIN’S LAIR

“Can’t believe I cried in front of him,” Winwin says, cringing.

“Yeah, me neither,” says a familiar voice.

Startled, Winwin squeals then yelps. A wrench flies off his hand as he falls off four feet to the ground and lands squarely on his bottom. He groans, and feels the back of his head throbbing. Opening his eyes, he blinks once, twice, thrice until he makes out the unmistakable silhouette of his nemesis looking down at him. Freakazoid couches and leans in so close, Winwin can feel his breath against his forehead.

“Stop screaming,” the hero says, “it’s just me.”

“Stop scream—are you serious? You nearly gave me a heart attack, you imbecile!”

“I know but that’s no reason to scream your lungs out.” Freakazoid offers his right hand and a half-smile. “Time to go upsies, big brain.”

Winwin glares, refusing the offer for help. “I don’t need your—” he begins but is cut off when he’s lifted off the floor. It’s both rough and gentle, in that he feels he’s taken several tight turns in a roller coaster without whiplash and is suddenly standing upright without imbalance. “Thank you.”

Freakazoid waves a dismissive hand. “Don’t mention it.”

“I won’t.” Winwin scoffs then wags a firm finger in a gesture of warning. “Nor shall you mention that I cried all the way up there in those cold, tall, and vaguely European mountains.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Freakazoid raises a hand, making a gesture that’s supposed to imply his discretion. He frowns then tilts his head with a shrug. “I mean I would dream of it so I might come up. Like, cards on the table, I might tell some of my dream friends about it.”

A beat as Winwin glares, turns to a camera that’s not there, and rolls his eyes.

“Are you quite finished?”

“No, not really—”

Winwin sighs and turns, picking up the wrench he dropped and returning to his work. “Why are you here, Freakazoid?” he asks, his voice laced with despondency.

“Oh,” is all Freakazoid manages to say. Winwin hears him clear his throat and take a step forward. “About that. I came to apologize, big brain. Didn’t mean to be, well, mean to you. It’s just that—” he pauses and the villain can practically see him shrugging. “—I think I’ve been a bit overworked too.”

“Was it your idea to apologize or was it Sgt. Qian’s?”

“That’s neither near or far.”

Winwin groans, doing his best to not roll his eyes or rub his face. “Neither here or there,” he corrects him.

“Exactamundo!”

“Did you come here to aggravate me?”

Freakazoid deflates, looking forlorn for a second before he clears his throat and the usual and insufferable aura of confidence that encompasses his very being returns. He smiles sheepishly and rubs the back of his neck.

“Come on, big brain, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. It’s just that—” Freakazoid groans, throwing his head back like a teeanger not wanting to admit he’s responsible for some wrongdoing. “—it was such a good plan!”

Winwin’s eyes widen as he takes a step forward and squeezes Freakazoid’s shoulders. “Come again?” he queries. “It was a good plan?”

“I mean—duh!—zombies I can handle but clowns? Geez. Ugh. No. Nightmare fuel.”

“So you did like it?”

“Like it? No, bud, I absolutely, definitely, without a shadow of a doubt, love it. Let me tell you, Lobe, it’s—” Freakazoid motions he’s kissing his fingers then wiggles his left hand as if to say mamma mia. “— diabolical.”

Winwin feels warmth spread across his cheeks and immediately clears his throat, looking away to avoid giving Freakazoid any satisfaction or a glimpse at his embarrassment. He laser-focuses on taking apart a component from the machine, cautious not to tinker much with the cylinder that contains the clown zombie gas, and pretends he’s not giddy with excitement and validation.

Then, just as he’s going to turn and give him his thanks, Freakazoid open his mouth and yet again ruins the moment—

“It’s diabolical, but stupid.”

Winwin mutters angrily under his breath, every fiber of his being urging him to reach for that knock-out gas he’d been working on for the past few days—or, perhaps, that disintegrating rifle that has been gathering dust for God knows how long—yet relents when he sees the look of concentration in Freakazoid’s face. The hero looks like he’s seriously considering why he feels Winwin’s plan was, in his words, diabolical but stupid.

And the villain, overwhelmed with both anger and vile curiosity, crosses his arms, taps his foot, and grits his teeth.

“Go on . . .”

“It’s—how to put this lightly?—immensely stupid yet awesomely evil in that you didn’t think it through but it has potential to really ruin my day if done correctly.” Freakazoid throws his arm around Winwin’s shoulder, pulling him close. “See what I mean, old chump?”

“You and I are not chumps.”

Freakazoid gasps and pouts, dramatically putting a hand on his chest. “And here I was thinking you were my nemesis,” he whispers in a low, wheezing voice. “I thought we were soul-nemeses.”

“I mean—” Winwin blushes again and his eyes widen the second he realizes Freakazoid notices his blushing. “We are nemeses, yes, but we are definitely not chumps.”

“Could we ever be chumps?”

Winwin sighs, rolling his eyes. “I believe so.”

“Ah, big brain, I knew you cared!”

“Yes, yes, caring.” The villain nods and pushes his nemesis off himself, “You’ve apologized, insulted me yet again, and tried to be my, as you say, chump. I believe that’s enough banter for a day.”

“Touché.” Freakazoid smiles. “I’ve made plenty of shameless jokes at your expense today.”

“And I’m certain they won’t be the last.”

“You know me,” the hero blinks, pointing a thumb at himself. He glances at the contraption built on the roof of the modified golf-cart and a glint of curiosity and mischief appears in his eyes. Despite wearing a domino mask, Freakazoid could be inexplicably expressive. “Whatcha up to?”

“Dismantling this heap of scrap metal.” Winwin turns so fast that it’s impossible for Freakazoid not to notice the frustration apparent in his face. He smacks the wrench against the roof of the cart and winces when it slips out of his hand. “Damn it.”

“Here, let me help,” Freakazoid offers, guiding Winwin away from the cart. “I need some space.”

Before Winwin can protest, a gust of wind pushes him back. He blinks to see nothing but a blur of motion and a shower of white sparks moving around the golf cart. It’s so fast that he glimpses at Freakazoid’s silhouette twice before the hero stands next to him, wiping his hands with a dirty rag. It reminds Winwin of a mechanic finishing up a check-up on a car in desperate need of maintenance.

“There.” The hero throws the rag over his shoulder. “Doneso.”

“How did you—” Winwin blabbers, flabbergasted at how thorough Freakazoid had been. Every piece is laid on a table that hadn’t previously been there, each component perfectly classified, and all the parts that were supposed to be tossed away neatly put on a trash bag. “How’s that possible?”

“Come on, brainy,” Freakzaoid scoffs, clapping Winwin in the back and making him yelp and glare at him. “We’ve been at this for a while now. If I can think of it, I can do it.”

“That’s not a very reassuring thought.”

For a second, Freakazoid’s smile disappears and a haunted look passes through his eyes. “I know,” he whispers ominously. Then he’s flashing that bright and infuriating smile of his as nothing has happened. “Anyways, I gots to get going.”

That stops Winwin dead on his tracks. Usually, after some crime-spree or being foiled and getting away, Freakazoid would burst in wherever Winwin was currently laying low on, say his cheesy heroic lines, and promptly deliver him to the authorities—which was always, without fail, to Sgt. Qian—and they would call it a night.

Here he is, apologizing, acting like Winwin hadn’t enacted yet another brilliant and evil plan—even though he had deemed it dumb—and being overall far more obnoxious than usual. Yeah, something’s definitely off tonight.

“Whoa, whoa, aren’t you going to take me in?” Winwin protests and instantly groans when he notices his hand on Freakazoid’s forearm, like a lover begging their other half not to leave. He lets go and sheepishly clears his throat. “You might have thwarted me today but I still turned a couple of people into clown zombies. That has to be a crime somewhere.”

“Definitely a crime somewhere, but they’re all good now. All they needed was some fresh-air. No harm, no foul.” Freakazoid shrugs then grimaces. “Although, no, not really. A couple of people were traumatized so there was some harm involved.”

“You see?” Winwin cackles and offers his hand, waiting to be handcuffed. “Take me in!”

“Not tonight, brainy. I’m all tuckered out and Kun invented me out for ice-cream. We can do that tomorrow, though.”

Winwin opens his mouth then closes it, narrowing his eyes in disbelief. “That seems awfully irresponsible.”

“Oh, it is.” Freakazoid snorts, turning to leave. “But I’m getting some ice-cream and Kun’s paying.”

“If you don’t take me in now, Freakazoid, I’ll come up with a worse plan tomorrow and enact it without mercy.” Winwin poses, raising his hands above to display his collection of inventions and devices solely designed for destruction and chaos. “For I live to oppose you. So it is written. So it shall be done.”

The hero blinks, holds his chin, looking pensive for a second, hums, then shrugs with an impassive expression. “I don’t think that’s legal, but we can work around it.”

“I—” Winwin raises and lowers a finger, deflated.

He could reschedule, postpone some things, advance others before he unleashed absolute chaos on the city. He knows can make it work. It would be business as usual.

With a mental note to not start his rampage before dinner time, he slowly and painfully rolls his eyes and huffs, “Fine. We’ll do it tomorrow then.”

“Goodie!” Freakazoid claps, pulling Winwin close for a hug. “Ice cream today. Possible disaster tomorrow.”

“Sure,” Winwin replies through gritted teeth.

“Okey-doke, brainy. See you tomorrow.”

One second, Freakazoid is there. The other, he’s gone in a blinding flash of light and a gust of wind that vaguely smells of chocolate. Winwin is left alone, despondent, and secretly impressed. He sighs and rubs the back of his head, feeling the area bruised and sensitive to touch.

Giving his lair the once-over, he slumps on a chair and pops his lips.

“This is my most humiliating defeat,” he grumbles.

A minute later, he decides to call it a night.

And, for the first time this week, all remains well in Way City.

itspapisongo | © 2020-2021 | All Rights Reserved

Freakazoid! is a Warner Bros. property, all rights reserved to them and the show's creators (Paul Dini & Bruce Timm).

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[darksiders-scenarios]

Hi it's a beautiful day today I hope you days been good I was hoping for a scenario for Strife,Draven and your favourite character about a family member abusing s/o like the one you did for war/death plz maybe

I know this is so so late, I am extremely sorry. I added Fury and Azrael as a continuation from the previous ask. Really sorry. Keep safe

Here’s for War and Death. 

~

Strife

Your abuser's lashing insults morph intochoked splutters when the muzzle of an enormous gun rams into their mouth,breaking their teeth like shards of glass, the impact so abrupt that it sways themoff balance and they land on their haunches.

'Please, don't stop on my account,'came the low, strangely amiable voice.

Recognition dawns in your abuser'seyes when they lock onto its wielder, renewing their attempts to escape. Howdid he get in here?

'You remember me! I'm flattered.'Your abuser's legs pinwheel frantically as Strife slowly rise to his fullheight, Redemption still pinned to the roof of their mouth. 'What'sthat?' Strife asks, mock concern etched on his face and he eases the pressureof his killer grip, allowing your abuser to speak.

'M... Mercy,' they manage to gasp,blood and saliva running down their chin, fingers reaching up to grip Strife'swrists. At the same moment, their body is hurled across the room, slammingagainst the wall and crashing in a heap on the floor.

'Granted!' Strife laughs, whippingout the twin pistol and pointing it at your abuser's prone body.

'Strife,' a tremulous whisper behindhim. 'Please, that's enough.' Strife does not turn to you. 'You think I'm justgoing to stay back and do nothing? This has gone on for far, far toolong. I'm putting a stop to it.'

'You... don't know the full story,'you say after a while.

He whips around. 'I don't care!' hestorms, guilt engulfing him when you flinch away. 'I don't care what you did,what ‘punishments’ you think you deserve, this doesn't justify-' he trails off,eyes wild. He stores his guns away and walks to your abuser's unmoving body,bends down.

'I know you can hear me, scum. A gentlereminder that it is parasites like you that make me understand my sister'sdisdain for humans. You should be grateful to your kindred. While you sat on yourarse, this good-for-nothing-little-shit saved lives and gave hope to brokensouls. A shame, such a shame that you are too stupid to realise that,' Strifeleans closer to whisper in their ear. 'Consider this your final warning, asshole.The next time, Y/N won't be able to protect you.'

Strife sits back and is quiet for along time. Every breath produces a shudder to his limbs. He feels your lighthand on his shoulder. 'Strife?' your voice is small, as though hesitant.

'Do you think I can keep ontolerating this?’ he asks quietly. ‘Your silent suffering from this filth, yourresolve to not show pain. That this has been going on for Creator knows howlong?'

He hears the wet click of your throatas you struggle to contain your emotions. You begin to withdraw your hand butStrife clasps his hand over yours and turns to you. Your cheeks are wet with tears. 'Let me bethere for you,’ he says softly and then carefully hugs you to him, tight in a way tohopefully make you feel secure.

'I’m sorry,' you mumble against hisshoulder. 'I’m sorry Strife.'

'And stop apologising all the damntime. If anything, I should be the one sorry for not noticing before and forshouting at you,' he sighs and places his chin on top of your head, reassuringhimself that you are safe now.  

Draven

Your abuser finally snaps and hurlsthe empty glass at you, along with another barrage of colourful curses. Youreact. You catch it mid-air and without thinking, you throw it back at them andit promptly shatters in their face. The room is filled with the shrill cries oftheir frustrated rage, their face decorated with bloody cuts and budding bruises.Your fist is clenched but you are frozen on the spot, shaking in sheerdisbelief and panic.

'Come on then!' your abuser yells atyou. 'Hit me again, I dare you, you ungrateful bitch!'

'Perhaps I can do the honours,'sounds a calm voice. Before they can react, your abuser's arm is suddenlyyanked harshly behind their back and you hear the disgusting pop signaling adislocated shoulder. You gawp wordlessly at the newcomer. You were obviously toodistracted to notice Draven slipping through the window.

'Draven, please,' you try to warn,knowing the futility of it. ‘

'Get out of my house!' your abusershrieks. 'Let me go or I'll-'

'You'll what?'

They respond by screaming some moreand struggle to free themself. Draven tightens his hold over them and in oneexpert move, he slams them into the table, snapping it in two. You watch,wide-eyed in horror, as your abuser coughs out blood and groans in agony.Draven kneels beside them and they immediately quieten, as though now comprehending their situation.  

'I remember,' Draven begins softly,'For centuries, I wished for nothing more than to be reunited with my people.Back in that prison, I would count the days and nights and wait and wait andwait. Now I see how grossly wrong I am,' his voice lowers and his eyes darken.'I also remember the bitter taste of countless betrayals in a distant time and I swear I will see that my friend never suffers the same betrayal as I have. So Ipromise you this; you will never lay another finger on Y/N. How, you may wonder; for I am takingthem away,’ he stands up, keeping his gaze pinned on your abuser’s sweatingface. ‘With that, I bid you farewell.'

Draven turns to you, and you see thesilent question in his eyes. You give the smallest of nods and hurry upstairsto begin packing.

Fury

'So you're telling me that simplytouching this thing will send me to where human survivors are?'

'That is the very function of the BridgeStone,' Fury smiles at your abuser. 'And you will be pleased to know thatY/N is there too.'  

The spark that lights their eyescould very much be mistaken for hope but Fury knows it for what it is, the eyesof a debased predator. It sickens her to the core. 'They're alive? How do theylook now?'  

'As much as anyone who suffered thepremature war.'

'No, I mea-'

'Isn't the fact that they're aliveand safe enough for you?'

'It is,' they lie hurriedly.

'Besides, why don't you find out foryourself?' Fury says calmly, mustering as much control as she could. She holdsout the Bridge Stone to your abuser. Their fingers close around the relic with several cracks as Fury breaks them in a tight grip. Their screams aremuffled when her hand clamps to their mouth. 'Why?' comes the strangled cry.

Fury leans forwards. 'If you as muchtouch a breadth of hair on my friend...'

'I never tou-'

'...the next thing I'll do is gouge youreyes out and skin your face off all the while slowly pulling your organs out,one by one, as you're crying out and gasping for me stop. But I will only healyou to torture you again.'

She withdraws her hand. Your abuser clutchestheir broken hand. 'You… you have no proof,' they gasp, voiceshaking. 'You honestly believe them, as ‘mighty’ as you are? They are nothingbut a manipulative, lying rotten rat. Even now, after all this, even now,when there's my chance for freedom, they're trying to sabotage me. Rotten pig,I always knew they were a mista-'

Your abuser's diatribe ends in chokedgasps when their neck is being collared by Scorn, hands reaching up,struggling desperately as they're slowly being strangulated. Fury staresimpassively, her grip never faltering.

'Don't struggle. No one can hear youanyway,' Fury whispers in perfect imitation of your abuser.  Their eyes bulge, twitching fingersdesperately clawing at the tight noose around their throat. Their grip slackening, struggles weakening, strength fading...  

Fury lets the unconscious body dropat her feet. Frustration burns in her but she did promise the old Maker to bring them alive. Hopefully, hopefully this will be sufficient to hammer themessage and fear into their skull.

Back at the Tree, you had overheardthe conversation; Ulthane's instructions to Fury about teleporting stray humansback to Haven. You had withdrawn from everyone then and mostly kept toyourself, crafting trinkets with the other Makers and obsessively doing smallerrands around the place. You would always deflect the topic whenever Furytried to talk to you. Ulthane was the one to reveal to her about your abuser.  

'We need 'em alive,' Ulthane hadwarned Fury. 'See if they learn, time will tell. If not, well, I'm sure little Y/Nwon't be too remorseful if they, say, accidentally, drop from the Tree.'

‘You insult me, Maker. You know I amcapable of more than that.’

Fury parts your abuser's lips andgrips their tongue. She taps into her ice hollow magic and freezes the softflesh.

'Y/N will never hear your twistedlies again.'

And crush.

Azrael

Azrael presses his fingers to histemples this time, wincing at the sympathetic stab of pain. No longer can heignore the signs. He closes his eyes and through his mind's eye, he sees thedark grey of your panic, in weak retaliation of the lava-red bursts of yourabuser's rage, mingling with the night-purple of their sense of grandiose. 

Azrael focuses. His connection with the material world fades.

'What the f- where am I?'

'You are safe,' the voice of Azraelreassures your abuser in their mind. 'I am the archangel Azrael, also calledthe angel of death.'

'The... Maybe I should really startcutting down the whiskey.'

'This is indeed a dream of sorts, butone that only I control its direction whereby you are a passing audience. Youare not hallucinating.'

‘So what’s happening?’ 

'I only appear to a rare few in the Third Kingdom. Y/N is one of them. Now I come to you.'

A pause, a hesitation. 'You know therunt?'

'I know your kindred very well. And Ihave been observing you for a while a/n.'

The cold spike of their fear laps atAzrael's conscious. 'Is this... If you're an angel, then am I being blessed?

'I appear in connection with yourcurrent flow of action. I bring you a message. I will show you your potentialfate should you carry on this path.'

'My path, wha-' 

The pulse of lightlances through their essence without warning, piercing their psyche, drowningyour abuser in suffocating darkness. Your abuser wakes to the sounds of brutish snarls and snapping fangs. Below your abuser lay shoals of terrible abominations, nightmarish fiends of insatiable hunger andvampiric bloodlust.

The Well of Souls stares back.

~

All this occurred within fiveheartbeats.

You never feel the blow. You riskglancing up to see your abuser stumbling away from the room, their voicefaltering between stuttering mumbles and strangled weeping.

Before you can process anything, something soft and gentle wafts overyour shoulder, as though the comforting fingers of a friend, there but notthere at once.

'Azrael?' you whisper, eyes brimmingwith unshed tears.

The gentle air envelops you in acomforting cloak, in a protective embrace. And this, this feels real. 

[ofmythsandmadness]

Drunken Words, Sober Thoughts.

SUMMARY: You and Diego are close. Good friends. But nothing more than that, not now and not ever. You know that he’s not into you, that’s been made clear. There’s just one issue. While sober Diego thinks of you as just a friend, drunk Diego...well, that’s a whole other story. WARNING: drinking (mentions). swearing. angst, i suppose??  PAIRING: Diego Hargreeves x reader. WORD COUNT: 3300k+ (why can’t i write anything short....)

A/N: So, I’ve been looking a lot and thinking about the concepts between a happier Hargreeves family, so like sans apocolypse and whatever alternate dimension means they get along nicely and what not. And I’ve also been badly missing Diego Hargreeves and Diego content (because tua has been pretty dead on Tumblr, sadly). And so I wrote this. Please don’t consider anything canon and alongside the tv show, it’s not at all. 

IT’S HALF PAST MIDNIGHT WHEN THE PHONE RINGS. Whoever’s on the other end is lucky she was still awake. Her eyes had just been slipping shut when the loud sound interrupted her dreams. And truly, normally she would have clicked her phone off and ignored whoever was pestering her - but there was only a handful of people that called that late. And generally, there was unfortunately a good reason. 

Not even bothering to look at the caller ID, she clicked accept and raised the phone to her ear.

“This had better be important.”

“It’s Diego.”

And immediately, even without a chance to exhale, her heart began to pound. Stupid emotions, right? Betraying herself to...well, herself. Y/N sighed. Her frown dissipated, though she tried to remain irritated and not ready to jump into action. “What’s happened this time?”

“Well, he - he - long story short, there was a drinking contest,” Vanya mumbled, hard to understand amongst the pounding music on the other end. In the background someone shouted something, another voice joining in, and already Y/N could paint a pretty clear picture of the circumstances in her mind. “I’m sorry to bother you, but you know that when he’s in this state, well -”

“-it’s no problem. I get it, I didn’t sign into being his emergency babysitter for nothing. And...it’s not your fault your brother’s a dumbass.”

Vanya quietly laughed on the other side of the line. “He’s really something else.”

“Yeah...yeah, that’s one way to put it.” Already she was up, slipping on her jacket and shoes and fixing her hair in the tiny foyer mirror. “Give me like, ten minutes. Can you keep the trio alive that long?”

“I’ll do my best.”

Y/N smiled softly. “All you can do. Thanks, Vanya.” She clicked end and unlocked her door, rushing down the dimly lit hallway with new urgency, ready to go save some souls from what could be a particularly rough night.

Diego Hargreeves was a lot of things. But Drunk-Diego - well, that was a force not many could handle. In fact, no one really could, not even her, the designated collector due to a pact they made several years back. But though it was a challenge, she cared far too much (unfortunately) about him to say no, ever. And, also, he really did not need to be thrown in jail for the umpteenth time for something so silly as this.

                                   ─── 

IT TOOK APPROXIMATELY SIX MINUTES TO GET TO THE BAR. That credit went to the lack of traffic so late, as well as the fact that her foot was practically pounding the gas pedal into the ground, begging her tiny car to go as fast as possible. Y/N was far too aware of what the Hargreeves boys were capable of and she was not eager to walk into a bloodbath. She could hope that someone thought to take Diego’s knives away from him, but that was unlikely.

Unfortunate, considering Drunk-Diego’s quick to anger nature (if one thought he was bad sober...oh, boy).

She hurried up the steps and pushed the door open, blinking to adjust to the dark lighting and throngs of bodies. People looked her way, but she paid them no mind, nodding once to the bartender before pushing her way through the crowd. It was not hard to find the Hargreeves, half because they always sat in the same place - and half just because of the noise. The sounds of cahoots and shouts filled her ears and Y/N had to wince and pause her movements. There was Luther’s bellow, rising just slightly above Diego’s hurled insults and Klaus’ squeaky, breathless jokes that no one ever truly got. It was like this every time something like this happened - and yet every time, it threw her off.

“Y/N, oh thank God you’re here,” cried Allison. She was followed closely by Vanya, wrapped up in a too-large sweater and wearing a matching frown to her sister. The tall woman moved in for a hug, but pulled away just as fast as she leant in. “I hate to make you do this, but-”

“-hey, it’s no biggie. Seriously, I wasn’t doing anything important.” Well, aside from maybe sleeping, but no point in ragging on that. She was already there, wasn’t she?

“It’s just that you’re the only one he ever listens to. Well, that and Vanya sometimes, but-”

“-it’s okay,” she interrupted, once more cutting the brunette off. The trio began to move back towards the craze. “I don’t mind helping out a friend.”

Behind her, Allison chuckled and mumbled something, but if she was meant to catch what, Y/N could not. She could guess the nature of the words, however, and chose to simply ignore it and continue on.

Once she was in view, the trio’s heads turned and cries of her name arised. Y/N could only grin as Klaus bounded over, wrapping his trembling hands around her body and murmuring how much he had missed her. Of course, it had only been two days since they had seen one another, but hey...arguing with logic with Klaus was never the smartest choice, and so she bit back her remark.

Luther did not come over, but just smiled sleepily on the couch. Diego, however, was moving next, with a large grin unlike any expression he ever wore sober. It was refreshing, seeing him smile - it really did suit him, and Y/N wished he would do it more often. But Drunk-Diego always forgot about his sober identity and did the adorable things that he would normally scorn. 

“Are you done here yet, big boy?” she teased, steadying him with a hand as he stumbled. When he shook his head, Y/N just chuckled. “Yeah, you’re done. Come on.”

“M’not even drunk, asshole…”

“Ri-ight. Well, whatever. We’re done here, and I am taking you home.”

With some struggle, mostly her trying to find a way to support him without breaking her back, the duo were on their way and leaving the rest of the Hargreeves behind. Diego protested the entire time, but she still managed to force him out of the bar. Y/N clung tightly to his body, trying to walk with him and not have him slip out of her grasp. It was a difficult task, but slowly but surely, they made it back to her car.

Once out of the bar, he was certainly sweeter, smiling as his inebriated self was prone to. She tried not to grin back, forcing herself to remain stone-faced and focus on her task. Diego managed to climb into the passenger seat without much difficulty, leaving her hurrying over to her own side and sliding in.

“Hey. Buckle up.”

Diego rolled his eyes but did as she asked. “Thanks, mo-oom.”

Y/N said nothing to that. Carefully, they pulled out and were back on the road, with Diego chuckling lowly about something or other and her eyes pinned to the road. 

“Where’re we going? This - this - this ain’t m’place…”

“No, it’s not. You’re crashing with me tonight.”

Diego’s head turned in his seat, twisting to attempt to focus on her face. “Ohh...so you takin’ me to your place, L/N?”

“Yes. So you can sleep.”

“Oh, I’m sure we...we...gonna do a lot of-”

-before he could finish the sentence, she cut him off with a click of her tongue. “You’re drunk, Diego. You are going to sleep, and like a damn baby, too.”

“Right. You just wanna piece a….this. You makin’ a - makin’ a - move?”

Y/N inhaled and turned the steering wheel sharply. There was no point listening to him, but it was hard to ignore his teasing (albeit, rather childish) remarks when it was the only sound filling the car. Curse that stupid broken radio.

“Y/N....Y/N…”

“We’re here now,” she interrupted, pulling into the parking spot and stopping sharply. Diego flung forward and whined, but she could hardly hear anything but her own pounding thoughts then. Stupidly, every time she let herself be pulled into his drunken words, let it infect her like a fucking plague until all she could do is repeat over and over the flirtatious remarks that would never mean anything. She collected every one in her mind from all past drunken encounters, held tight like a vice, to play over and over every time despite her mental protests. 

But she was going to do better this time. None of it meant anything, Y/N reminded herself, and he’s just latching on because you’re there. Nothing else but that.

    ───

“WHY DO YOU ALWAYS COME TO PICK ME UP?”

Y/N did not turn around, facing the cupboards instead of the man behind her. Though, she did not have to look to know he was off the couch and moving closer, drifting like a magnet into her path. At least he paused in the kitchen entrance, but it still felt like he was right there.

She coughed to clear her throat - to clear her mind. “We’ve gone over this, Diego. You call me if you need help, I call if I need help. We’ve been doin’ this five years and you can’t even remember our pact?”

Y/N turned to face him, finally taking in his soft, almost childish pout. She frowned. “What?”

“You never call me for help.”

“That’s not true.”

“Name...name one time, Y/N,” he mumbled back. His words still slurred but it was obvious Diego was a bit more in control. Not enough to be thinking right, of course, but at least he could talk normally. “One time in even the last year.”

When no examples came to mind, only red-hot shame licking up her neck and cheeks, she averted her gaze. “Look. Take these. They’re gonna make the aftermath a whole lot easier to deal with. And then lay down, dumbass, and sleep.”

“No! C’mon, Y/N. Why do you never ask for my help? You go to others, but - but-”

“-Diego-”

“-I wanna help you, too-oo,” he rushed out, words like vomit springing from his lips, thrown full-force at her face. The glass and pills were set down, the latter rolling in circles on the counter but neither paid them any mind. Diego’s hands found hers, tracing sloppy designs into her heated skin. “I wanna...I don’t know. I wanna be that guy for you.”

“Okay, no. Diego-”

“-and you know,” he continued, pulling away but ignoring her protests, “an’ I know, I’m not that great, but I’ll do anything you need. Even kill the spiders for you. You gotta lot of spiders? I’ll stab ‘em to death. Just like...” he sloppily mimed a stabbing motion, “this.”

Y/N folded her arms across her chest and sighed. Every time, there was the slightest of pushes and then it all came out, Drunk-Diego spewing tangents of fantasies that would be long forgotten by the next morning. Every time she tried to avoid it and yet it came out, leaving her trying to drown out his sweet words by the time Sober-Diego’s up and gruff and shut-down again. And sure, there was nothing wrong with either sober or inebriated Diego, she unfortunately cared for him either way - but it always stung a little, hearing him sing her sweet praises only to forget all about it.

“You need to sleep. And take these pills.”

“Nah, c’mon, I need you…”

“No, you don’t. Go to bed.” Why had she taken him back to her place? Sure, it would have been a pain trying to get into the gym, but it might have been easier emotionally than trying to do this. Next time, she would have to remind herself of this and go with that route.

Not like she would ever listen to herself.

Y/N watched as Diego stumbled about, tumbling in a slow, awkward spin-around, staring around her place and then looking once more her way. He smiled, though it was watery and tired, as though one push and it would crumble. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Sure,” she replied, not wasting a second on the compliment. “And you’re wasted. You need to go to bed.”

“C’mon, why-yy do you push me away?”

“I don’t.”

“You are righ’now!” he protested. Diego’s smile had dropped, just as she predicted, and he stumbled over to her. She tried not to run. “You...you...you not care about m-me?”

His slurred words cut deep, even with the steady reminder of nothing he says means anything. Y/N shakily sucked in a breath. “That’s not it. I care very much about you.”

“Hm...you smell like p-peaches.”

She said nothing to that. No point in encouraging his nonsense.

“Y/N…” he stepped closer, steadying himself on the countertop. Diego did not touch her, remaining far enough away to not make contact, but she could see his hand trembling, even twitch as though to take her own. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Stop.”

“You don’t get it - but - w-what’s that dumbass song? You dunno...what makes you beautiful! And-”

“-I swear, I-

“An-and you funny, and sweet-”

“-shut up now,” she hissed. Y/N finally came to her senses and shifted away, retreating back into the living room. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Diego try and stop her with his hand, but she skirted from the touch easily enough. “Stop saying this stuff, please.”

“B-but I need to tell you-”

-but she was not about to let him continue, not for a second. “I’m not doing this with you tonight. You’re drunk, you’re not thinking and you need to rest before you go on too much. Okay?”

His face fell, head tilted slightly to one side like a sad puppy. “But I….I...I lo-”

“-I know what you’re going to say, trust me. You’re going to compliment me and say all this sweet stuff, say you care and that you l-love me, even,” her voice trembled on the last syllables, “but I know you don’t mean any of it. And it’s not your fault, you’re drunk and not thinking and I don’t blame you, but I don’t want to hear all these things that aren’t true.”

“They are true.”

Y/N shook her head, chuckling sadly. “It’s okay. Okay? We’re good friends and sometimes you say stupid stuff when you’re drunk - I mean, you know I do. Your thing is just professing your non-existent feelings towards me. But look, it’s late and I do want to sleep, and you need to.”

Diego stepped forward, out of the kitchen and towards where Y/N stood. His brows were furrowed, but his face was still relaxed - at least not holding tight to the mask his sober counterpart clung to. Even in the shitty lighting, basked in shadows, he looked beautiful and it hurt to even look his way.

“No, no, I mean it.”

He moved closer, swaying ever so softly yet remaining on his feet all the same. One hand trembled and moved out, gently caressing her forearm with his fingers. His eyes slipped from hers to her lips, hesitating there. His hand drew away, but his body crept closer, eyes trained on her face, wishing for a connection that she would never allow him to make.

Once more, she shook her head. Without even thinking, she reached out to touch him, quickly moving the hand to his shoulder as though it was always meant to be supportive. “It’s okay. You won’t even remember this happened in the morning.”

“Bullshit.”

“Diego…”

Still, he remained firm in his belief, frowning down at her in what looked almost like concentration. “You think I could forget? I always remember. I ‘member everything with you.”

“No, you don’t. But it’s sweet, maybe a little cheesy but s’still sweet that you’re pretending otherwise.”

“You don’t g-get it, Y/N!”

No, he did not get it. He never did, at least not when absolutely hammered out of his normally quite logical mind. And there was no point in even bothering explaining herself to him, because he would forget until the next encounter when he would sing her praises before promptly forgetting all about how he toyed with her heart. She could count all the times off on her fingers, and sure he never did it on purpose, but that did not mean it did not hurt.

Y/N turned away, unable to look him in the eyes any longer. The sobs were coming and she would be damned if she cried right then, at least in his view. She choked back her tears and sighed. “Look. I care a whole lot about’cha. More’n you could ever know. And I’m fine with us just being friends, I’m not going to force you into loving me or shit like that. But I don’t want to keep hearing you say that you care about me, lying and toying with me like that because it does hurt, knowing you’re never gonna mean that. So please, for the love of whatever fucking deity runs this universe, go to bed and let’s just stop talking about this.”

With that, she stormed out, leaving him swaying by the couch. Y/N slammed her bedroom door and fell against it, freeing her tears to drip waterfalls down her reddened cheeks. She could hear him say something out there, but tried to pay it no mind. He had all he needed, and honestly she might do something stupid if she stayed out there too long.

At least that time had not been as bad. He only did this sometimes, but when it was done, it was long and convoluted compliments that a wannabe Shakespeare might declare poetry. One time, he even dared to try and kiss her, but she quickly made sure to cut him off. He was too drunk to comprehend his actions, but she knew that he would not want to wake up and know that he had kissed her. It was not fair to him and not fair to herself, either.

Y/N buried her head in her arms, propped up on her knees, and groaned through her tears. She should have just risked taking him home.

    ───

SHE ENDED UP NOT SLEEPING MUCH, not until five A.M hit. But after that, her eyes would finally slide shut and she would not open them until it was almost afternoon. Not that Y/N had planned on sleeping that late, but hell - it was a Saturday and it had been a worser Friday night than planned. She had earned a couple extras wasted on sleep.

Y/N yawned and slipped out of the bed, rubbing at her eyes to dispel the sleep. She still felt exhausted, probably due to the tears and high emotional run from the night before, but it had done at least some good. She felt more prepared to face the day, whatever it brought.

She found her apartment strangely empty, however. It was as though no one else had ever been there. She frowned, looking about as though Diego was hiding from her, but it was just her, as far as she could discern. And the only evidence of him ever being there came from the bottle of pills she had left out for him, pinning down a single piece of notepaper.

Y/N hurried to read what he had written for her, but was left feeling even more empty than before. What little he had wrote was vague, a simple ‘I’m sorry’ scrawled across in big letters, followed by his first initial. Not even his full name, as though he had been in a hurry to scurry off. Maybe he had been.

She folded the single paper and tossed it into the trash. Whatever it meant, he was not there to explain - but anyway, she could at least guess at the meaning and understand. If he was not there in the morning, he was either busy or could not bear to be there any longer, eager to flee. Not that she really blamed him. But still, it was odd.

Just before Y/N could begin her (albeit late) morning routine, there was a knock. For a moment, she debated just ignoring it and continuing on, but the raps sounded again and then once more, sounding more and more insistent as they went on. She was resigned to answering, grumbling under her breath about the bad nature of whoever’s visit and that ‘one day, she would have more balls to just ignore the knocks’.

She ripped open the door. “What-” her eyes drifted up, and Y/N stilled, lips forming a tiny ‘o’ in shock at the face that stood before her. “...Oh.”

A/N: May or may not be based on real life experiences (I’m an affectionate drunk, oops). Let me know if you’d be interested in a part two. :)

#diego hargreeves #diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves oneshot #diego hargreeves imagine #tua #tua imagine #tua x reader #the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy x reader #lokidyinginside #lokidyinginside fics #diego

[kazbrkker]

Chapter 5: The Way It Was

Chapter summary: Fluff and angst. Price finally makes an appearance! First fight between Alexis and Alex and an interesting revelation...;) & glimpse of Alexis’ childhood. [2404 words]

Warnings: Shitty childhood (mention of alcohol & rough childhood.)

26 OCTOBER 2019, 2200 "Alexis" and "Alex", Codename Aces CIA agents with Urzik militia Al-Raab, Urzikstan.

"What was that?"

Alexis stormed forward, harshly jabbing her partner's back. They were taking the scenic walk back to the militia's base. While Farah and Hadir walked ahead of them, Alexis and Alex lagged behind to breath in the scenes of their victory.

"What was what?" Alex perplexed, cheekily plucking a few yellow chrysanthemums off the road and waving it in her face.

Alexis took the tiny flowers, a warm smile on display as she admired the adversity these flowers had to bloom in a place like this. Then it faltered upon realising it was an attempt to distract her. "You radioed Viper for me. That's against the rules."

Alex quickly brushed her off and walked into the militia's armory, Alexis hot on his trail. Standing in silence as they waited for the room to clear. "Since when are you one for following the rules? What, you wanted to personally say bye to him?"

What the hell, that took her by surprise. Where did that come from? "I only follow the rules to keep you out of trouble. Sorry for caring."

The hardened look in Alex's eye softened, "I was doing you a favour, come on! Viper was outrightly hitting on you over the comms. If Laswell wanted to bitch about it, you could get dragged into his mess." He shrugged and busied himself with removing his gear.

"Because minor flirting is worse than trashy comms etiquette?"

Alex stretched obnoxiously loud.

"No, fraternization is." That stung more than it should.

"That's a bit hypocritical, isn't it?" Spurts of anger gnawing at her rationale incited her to spit those words without hesitation —instantly regretting it. From the nostalgic look on Alex's face, he must have realised they were in a loop again. The last time they had this conversation, it didn't end well.

To put this delicately, Alexis and Alex were no strangers at fraternization. It happened one time after she returned from St. Petersburg, a drunken mistake that Alex agreed. Overtaken by choking wave of emotions —vulnerability, lust, the need to feel safe. It was the first time Alexis was desperate enough to ask for something, and Alex gave it to her. Like moths drawn to a flame, lonely agents like themselves, cut off from the rest of the world, take whatever comfort they can get.

They left that night without ever mentioning it again. Only the next drunken time (clearly not a good drinker) when she accidentally mentioned it —her mistake for assuming it meant... more.

Alex assured her it wasn't. It did some serious damage to their friendship for a while. After a few weeks, everything snapped back into the exact same, best friends and partners for life.

Now, leaning against a counter, she searched for any answers in his eyes. One thought crossed her mind —maybe he was jealous...? Impossible, she deserted the thought, Alex had never been the jealous type.

Plus, what happened was a one-time thing. It wouldn't, or rather, couldn't happen again. Alexis couldn't lose him too.

"Maybe." Alex murmured, refusing to meet her eyes, his jaw clenched tight while cleaning his rifle, the chiselled jawline highlighted from his profile. Wide-eyed, the female agent slowly cleared her throat, scattering to form a reply.

Alex's satellite phone rang, breaking the tense silence. Saved by the bell.

Speak of her and she shall appear —it was Laswell.

Alex hesitated, did Laswell really wanted to bitch about it? He was blindly shooting from the hip. The palpable tension dissolved, replaced by a flustered Alexis. His lips pursed in amusement, "Laswell wouldn't. I'm pretty sure she has a soft spot for you."

Alexis was smart, confident, witty, resourceful, strong —the strongest person he knew. Resilience built steadily like a rock, he could write lists after lists. Alex wasn't blind, who wouldn't have a soft spot for this woman.

"This is Bravo 6, Echo 3-1 and Saint, do you copy?" It was Price.

A nudge shook Alex out of his trance. Excited at the appearance of her mentor, Alexis snatched the phone from his grasps. It was a relief to know Price was on the mission too. Looks like this assignment was really bringing her old friends back together.  "Price? Send traffic, Cap."

"Good job, hitting the airbase. Now that you have limited Barkov's air capability, we'll do our part."

"Glad we could help. What's the plan?" Alex replied to his field commander.

"We traced the masterminds of the Piccadilly attack to a townhouse in North London, we'll take care of it. You can put your feet up and rest."

"That is a command I can follow. Have fun, cap." Alexis spoke, ready to end the call.

"Not so fast, young lady. I was at the debrief, I managed to keep you out of trouble. If it was up to Norris, you'd be running laps like Viper. Don't get stupid, Alexis."

Alexis exhaled frustratedly. "Thanks, Cap." She replied in between scowls in response to the burning triumph look from Alex. His hands covering his mouth to muffle his wide smile. By taking his side, Price had inflated his ego unnecessarily bigger.

"But, you still have to run 5 miles for your insolence towards Laswell." Price delivered the ultimatum.

Her jaw slacked. "You're joking. Says Norris?"

"Colonel Norris." Price corrected with a sigh. "Says me. I told you one day that mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble. 5 miles. Alex?"

Alex exploded into laughters, no longer trying to suppress it. "Hah, roger that! I'll make sure of it. Out."

The call ended. Alexis had respect for authorities, to a certain extent. It wasn't impertinence, but rather her conditioned nature to bypass it. Coming from Task Force Black —a tier-one task force in the JSOC that didn't even answer to the President, falling into the chain of commands was never needed. Also might have to do with the fact that she started to detest the political bureaucracy over the years in the CIA.

John Price, Daniel Maddox —Alexis' commander in Task Force Black, and Samuel Forbes —her CIA handler were the only ones she would willingly abide. Kate Laswell was also close.

"Is this a bro code thing?" Alexis motioned in between them and the satellite phone, inspecting Alex as he raised his eyebrows in feigned innocence. "Price doing the dirty work on your behalf?"

"You heard the man, he said it was for your insolence."

"Wipe that smirk off your face." She mumbled, trying to use a dirty cloth to wipe his chin but he stopped her. If looks could kill... you know the rest.

"Let's go, babe. I'll time you."

"Aw. How kind." She retorted, thinking how badly she wanted to dig those blue eyes out from that arrogant face of his.

40 minutes later, a very sweaty and out-of-breath Alexis returned to the starting point. "5 miles... 5 god damn miles." She breathed, catching a towel and water bottle tossed her way. The entire 40 minutes was filled with killer glances towards Alex. They both knew the punishment wasn't for her insolence. Price wasn't the type to demand respect for other officers, the man could care less and so could Laswell.

This was an indirect way to lecture her, the brotherhood they had caused Price to take Alex's side. Judging from the glowing delight, this ought to satisfy him. Her punishment attracted a few audiences, including Hadir and Farah, who watched happily with her enemy on the roof.

"40 minutes on the dot. Impressive." Farah shouted from above. Hadir excitedly nodded, showing thumbs-ups.

Past the fourth mile, even her vision started to swirl. Blame the ever humid Urzikstan, it was insane she completed it without hurling. "I don't want to impress... I need a seat!" So she willingly fell on her butt and sat in the middle of the carpark.

They joined her shortly, grinning at her flushed cheeks and breathless words. Farah extended a hand and pulled the CIA agent up, "Steady now. Alex, why did you make her run so much!" She chided, elbowing him.

"Not me. It was Price."

"Keep lying, I'll harvest your toes." Farah gave a weird look at her insult. "All I have to do is look Price in the eye and he's a goner." Alex remained suspiciously silent, but yelped when Farah jabbed him in the gut. As revenge, Alexis smacked her sweaty towel against his tattooed arm, disgusted as he failed to swat it away.

Farah, who supported her to walk, didn't seem to care about her sweaty state. "Farah."

The commander hummed, bringing her inside the kitchen to sit. Hadir refilled her bottle.

"Would you like it if Alex and I trained your people? We can teach them some proper fighting tactics and medic courses. With your permission, of course."

Farah took a seat opposite her, mouth opening slightly before closing, as if she was unsure what to say. Hadir, witnessing this, said with a smile, "That would be extremely kind, Alexis."

A bright glint that could be interrupted as a tear reflected in the commander's eyes. Farah's hand squeezed hers tightly. Eyes crinkling upwards, Alexis knew that was her way of saying thanks.

"Great. We start tomorrow."

The two siblings soon left Alexis and Alex in the kitchen to unload some trucks that just entered the compound. He replaced Farah on the seat, "That is a great idea, Lexi."

Finally, some wind started blowing into the kitchen. She closed her eyes at the relieving night breeze. After today's mission, seeing how Farah's people fearlessly ran into the battlefield was reason enough to help them. Although a good trait, fearlessness can also be dangerous. "I want to help them. We were trained by the best in the world, it would be cruel not to share some of that knowledge."

They sat in silence, feeling the cool air while quenching their thirst. Putting their feet up, as Price ordered. Outside the kitchen, playful insults were thrown around by the pair of siblings. It was heartwarming, seeing genuine smiles and watching them be... normal. It was nice.

Growing up, Alexis wouldn't complain she had a bad childhood. Her dad was an honest man, a construction worker. For a man with such a harsh job, it translated into his personality. Her father wasn't affectionate, but he played a good father by putting a roof over their heads and food on the table.

Her life was normal, up till the very day her mother got into a fatal car accident, then everything changed. It was never said but Alexis knew her father blamed her for it. She only grew up to realise it was ridiculous. How could it have been her fault? But grief knew no sense.

Life waited for no one, years later, her father remarried. Lily was a great stepmother, not conforming to the stereotypical evil stepmom Alexis was so afraid of. Lily loved her, but not as much as her blood-borns.

Loved her, but not enough to stop the drunk shoutings, that much Alexis understood.

Alexis didn't remember much of her mother, only recognizing her face through photos. They looked nothing alike —her mother was blonde and had bright blue eyes, while Alexis inherited dark brown eyes and hair. For a man who held an imperative amount of self-loathing, imagine raising his reflection.

She envied the pair of siblings, even after everything, they still had each other. Seeing them together somehow felt lonelier. Emptier.

"I can hear the gears turning." Alex placed his chin on her shoulder, the action bringing her back down on Earth. She sniffled inconspicuously, pretending to use the damp towel to wipe her sweat. "What's wrong?"

"Why must something be wrong?"

"You're making that face."

Friends for five years, it would be foolish to assume something could escape his eyes. Goosebumps raised over her arms, feeling the stubble on his chin tickling her skin. She turned to examine the man who had been through everything with her. Hell and back, literally.

Alexis didn't know how she could ever live without him.

"Just reminiscing." She replied, a distant look in her eyes while she continued smiling at the siblings' bickering. Alex followed her gaze, knowing.

"The past is the past, Alexa–" Alex almost uttered her birth name but stopped in the nick of time. "Sorry, it slipped." His voice was muffled by Alexis' hand.

"You get my point. What matters is the now, and now you have me."

"I'll always have you." She recited, hands intertwined.

The usual smirk on Alex's face was replaced with a heartfelt smile, their gaze connected meaningfully. "And I, you." He laid a gentle kiss on the top of her hand.

Alexis and Alex stayed like that for a few more minutes, her head resting on his shoulder. Suddenly, a sound pierced through the peace —it came from Alex's stomach. Alexis laughed before tossing him her rations pack.

"Uh-huh. No. You two are not eating that." Farah walked in to snatch the rations away. Their mouths fell open, watching their favourite ration pack out of their reach.

"Hey! That was shrimp fried rice, proper good stuff!"

"Closest to gourmet." Alex backed her up. It was the tastiest ration pack. Alexis even secretly raided the base's stockpile to neat pick the most decent ones —there goes her efforts.

Farah tossed the unopened pack to Hadir, who caught it with ease and wiggled it higher when Alexis tried to reach for it. "You cannot win this war with... that." Hadir inspected it, face twisted with distasteful when he opened it, revealing an unappealing mash of rice compressed into a box.

Farah tugged on her wrist, already pulling her down the stairs. "If you don't throw it away, I will tell Captain Price about your horrible English accent.

Alexis groaned, "If this war wouldn't kill me, Price would."

"Better yet, he'll make you run the miles for real."

Her lips parted with a gasp, pointing accusingly as Farah continued to drag her down the stairs. "So you admit it was you!"

"Come." Hadir pulled away the agent who tried to jump Alex with a punch.

"We will show you the real gourmet."

taglist: @flyboidameron​

a/n: it was my birthday yesterday so i decided we need this fluff.... it's so 🥰. masterlist here. want to be tagged? let me know!

#call of duty x oc #call of duty x reader #echo 3-1 #alex cod #alex modern warfare #john price #kyle garrick #kate laswell #farah karim #hadir karim #simon ghost riley #future simon riley x oc #oc: alexandra prince #ysr writes: kl #killer instinct #modern warfare #tw: read warnings carefully #fanfiction #call of duty modern warfare

[ayma-nidiot]

In the White Light - Prideshipping fic Chapter 11

Also on AO3.

Author’s note: This is the last chapter of the Scandalshipping arc. I promise that the next chapter will have... plenty of Prideshipping. Tee hee. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Chapter 11 – A Force I Can’t Run From

~One year later~

“Father…” Atem ran as fast as he could from the zombies that attacked, with Isis and Mahad by his side. Karim and Shada had ran ahead to fend off the enemies at the palace entrance.

“Begone, you beasts!” Mahad hurled a barrage of dark magic balls at the foes, barely keeping them at bay. “There, Your Highness! The throne room!”

“Oh…” Atem had arrived too late and found his father dead on the floor. He ran up to his body and cradled Aknamkanon’s head. “Father… Oh gods, if only I had arrived a few minutes earlier… Father!”

“Atem…” Mahad wanted to grieve for his king, too, despite the dire situation the palace was in now.

“Your Highness… No, Your Majesty…” Isis spoke through tears. “I want to grieve for the pharaoh too, but we need to clear the palace of enemies.”

“…Wait!” Atem began to panic when he noticed his boyfriend was missing. “Where’s Seto?”

“I’m afraid that not long before the attack, he suddenly insisted he had something to take care of and ran off,” Mahad replied. “Considering the circumstances, he’s probably already…”

Atem refused to accept this answer, took the Millennium Pendant from his father’s corpse, and started running. “No. I will go look for him and prove that you’re wrong!”

“But Your Majesty… To abandon the palace at a time like this…”

“I also intend to look for where the enemies are coming from. That way, I can stop these attacks for good!”

“Then… Then we’re coming with you!” Isis insisted. “I believe in our soldiers… In Shada and Karim… They are more than capable of defending the palace.”

“Don’t expect this to be an easy mission, you two. If you’re prepared to face our true enemy, then let us make haste!”

So were Atem’s last words before he, Isis, Mahad, and a few lesser soldiers fled the palace. He searched every sarcophagus, every common house, hoping that he would find some kind of hint.

Just as he was ready to take a break in the village he was in, an elderly woman walked up to him. “Your Majesty? It’s unusual to see you out of the palace.”

“Oh!” Atem had intended to hide his identity and was upset that he had failed.

“I implore you, Your Majesty, flee for your safety!” The elderly woman cautioned as she pointed at shadows flying about in the sky, and a dark hoard of enemies coming their way. “No village is safe anymore from the army of Anubis…”

“Anubis… So, that’s who out enemy is!” Mahad exclaimed. “I figured as much! Atem, he’s the sorcerer who’s infamous for performing human experiments!”

Atem immediately started running, following the source of said shadows. Just as he had the notion to rush on in, he cautioned his retainers, “Okay, here’s the plan. As soon as we open this door, I will start singing the Incantation. Then, when Anubis is vulnerable, the both of you will strike!”

Mahad bit his lip, scared of the fate that could befall his king. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

Atem opened the door as silently as he could, and his voice slowly began to crescendo as he walked in. “Usabon o et e irakih, igurust on ig ikaneragek…”

“No!” A voice howled as the zombies in the chamber dissipated into light. “No! It can’t be! The pharaoh is here! That bastard… Aknadin has betrayed me!”

“Imorodom… Etirikihcat… o iomo…” Atem couldn’t finish the rest of the incantation, and fell to the floor, barely conscious. “Anubis! You will pay for the death of my father… and for the suffering you’ve caused my people!”

Mahad and Isis rushed over to Anubis, encasing him in a binding magic circle. “Any last words, scum?”

“Hahaha…” Anubis showed no shame, even in his final minutes. “Young pharaoh, the worst has yet to come!”

Disgusted at this choice of words, Mahad let his Millennium Ring grow brighter, unleashing a dark magic that consumed Anubis’ body and soul. “Hah! The fool wastes his last words on insults!”

“It’s not just insults, Mahad,” Isis spoke up. “He said something about ‘Aknadin betraying him.’ If Aknadin really is an accomplice of Anubis, then we need to find Aknadin and execute him as a traitor to the throne.”

“Agreed.” Mahad had the notion to leave until he noticed Atem crawling into a dark corner of the chamber. “Your Majesty?”

Ignoring his retainer, Atem couldn’t be happier to see the tired, beat-up Seto. “Oh my gods… Seto… Thank Ra that you’re okay!”

“Atem…” Though he had only been gone for a few hours, Seto kissed the pharaoh as if they’ve been apart for weeks. “It… It was horrible… I was searching for my father, then next thing I know, he and Anubis decide to torture me. After all that… only the sight of you could refresh me again.”

“Seto, I’m sorry to hear that.” Mahad helped his fellow High Priest off the ground. “Now come. After you’ve rested, we’ve much to discuss.”

Over the next several months, it was decided that Anubis’ last words were correct. Even though the commander of the zombies had perished, the zombies themselves did not stop terrorizing the villages and the palace. Despite the pharaoh’s protests, Seto took several solo missions, determined to find out who could possibly be stronger than Anubis. Coming back from such a mission with a bloodied-up back and right arm, he tried to sneak to a medical ward. “Oh, good, Atem isn’t-”

Unfortunately for the High Priest, the pharaoh couldn’t be so easily fooled. “I’m not what?”

“Um… Nothing.”

“I’m pretty sure a mangled arm and back aren’t nothing!” Atem rushed for the alcohol and began to apply it immediately to Seto’s wounds.

“Ngh…” Seto cringed slightly at the sting.

“Please stop looking for the enemy by yourself!” Atem protested. “At least take another priest with you!”

“Your Majesty, with all due respect, I cannot do that.”

“But why not?”

Seto said nothing, but only looked at his feet in shame.

“I believe I’m owed at least some explanation.”

“But I can’t tell you!”

Atem almost hit the priest, frustrated at his aloofness. “For the love of the gods, Seto, you’re my boyfriend! Why do you feel the need to keep secrets from me?”

“Please… Please, don’t make me say anymore… There’s just one secret I can’t tell you.”

Atem took another look into Seto’s eyes and saw the hurt this secret caused. Deciding to drop the subject, he said, “I’m sorry, Seto… I’m sorry for pushing you this far.”

“…” Seto let a few seconds of silence pass before saying, “I will tell you one thing, though. I’ve finally learned the name of our true enemy today.”

“Really? Whom?”

“My solo mission today took me to a village called Kul Elna. The zombie soldiers I fought there claim their master as the Dark One Zorc.”

“I… see. And you intend to go out there right away to look for the Dark One, do you not?”

“Of course I do.” Seto got up, and despite having been injured, felt well enough to go back to the fray. “If I don’t find that enemy, all of Egypt will be in peril!”

“No…” Atem yanked on Seto’s robes. “Please… Stay here… Stay here and rest with me.”

“Atem…” Seto didn’t try to resist the pharaoh and sat back down. Pulled in by the longing look in Atem’s eyes, the High Priest stroked Atem’s bare back.

“Comfort me…” Atem begged, holding Seto as close as he could.

Not another word was said as Seto crept a hand up Atem’s thigh, and the pharaoh left himself entirely in his High Priest’s hands.

This moment of intimacy wouldn’t last for much longer as the Dark One himself plotted his next move. For many millennia, he wanted to destroy the royal family and take Egypt under his rule of darkness. And now, thanks to a recent report from his henchmen, he would finally have that chance.

“Milord!” A Dragon Zombie came crawling in to Zorc’s lair. “I bring you good news! We have found the Pharaoh Atem’s palace! He is there right now, and I don’t see that… monster anywhere.”

“Oh?” Zorc stared at his servant, amused. “So Aknamkanon is dead at last, hm? Then all I need to do is kill his last immediate heir, and nobody shall stand in my way!”

“But Your Evilness, Atem wields the Pharaoh’s Incantation. As you know, its power is so strong it could kill us all, including you. And don’t forget the High Priest Seto, wielder of the Millennium Rod.”

“Hah! He couldn’t even sing two lines of the Incantation before passing out before Anubis! Do you really think that such a naïve ruler could defeat me? I don’t fear him or his High Priests!” Zorc arose from his throne, taking heavy steps forward. He summoned a dark spirit to his side and began speaking to him. “Are you ready to exact your revenge on the pharaoh?”

“Yes, milord.” The spirit knelt before his master. “And I thank you for the opportunity to do so. Give me the order, and I will carry it out without question.”

“I want you and some of my humble servants to go to the palace. Lure Pharaoh Atem to your chamber and give me the pleasure of killing him there.”

“Your wish is my command, milord.” So spoke this spirit as he let the minions of Zorc lead the way to the couple who remained blissfully unaware of their coming.

Atem felt no need to leave the medical ward that night, thankful that by this point, most of his guards and retainers accepted his relationship with Seto. Instead, he rested peacefully in the aftermath of lovemaking, letting Seto’s breathing lull him to sleep. “Seto…”

“Yes?” Seto had barely remained awake himself.

“After tonight… Please, no more solo missions, I beg of you. At least let me come along.”

“…Okay. At least you’ll be easier to protect if you’re right there.”

“And in doing so, you won’t do anything rash. Promise me!” Atem’s hands shook under the linen sheets.

Seto hoped his next words wouldn’t exude his reluctance. “I promise. Because where would you be without me, right?”

It was just then that a sudden phantasmic voice cut the pleasantries short. “Pharaoh… Pharaoh Atem…”

All of Atem’s tiredness was gone in that instant. “Ghost! Show yourself!”

“With pleasure!” The source of the voice made his presence – his familiar presence – known.

“Anubis!” Seto roared. “So, you’ve come back from the dead just to haunt the pharaoh, huh?”

“You would be correct in your guess… sort of. I’ve just come to tell you that the Dark One himself awaits you in my old chamber.” Anubis abruptly departed with a cackle.

“…Well, you heard him,” said Atem as he began getting dressed. “If we go, we can finally put an end to this war!”

“It’s a trap! Why would you trust anything that vile cur says?” Seto dressed himself quickly too.

Atem continued to speak as he donned his jewelry and the Pendant. “I’ve got you, I’ve got the other priests, and I’ve got the power of my song. Why not have a little more faith in us?”

“My apologies.” Seto put his headdress on and, being more familiar with Anubis’ chamber, he led the way.

Atem had noticed his High Priest gradually becoming more nervous on the way there. “Seto… Maybe we should turn back and at least call for the other High Priests. A battle of this magnitude requires it.”

“No. I promised I would protect you, and we certainly won’t turn back now,” Seto declared as the two of them entered Anubis’ chamber. “And you won’t need to use the Incantation, either. …Blast, he’s not here!”

“Huh? Are you saying that you plan to take on the Dark One all by yourself?”

“…” Seto said nothing as he heard commotion outside the deep, dark chamber. Knowing full well who awaited him out there, he closed his eyes. I have to thank you for choosing to battle outside, Zorc.

“Seto? Seto, say something!”

Seto only began to talk when he turned for the door. “Atem… Just in case I don’t make it out of this battle alive, I want you to know that I love you very much and will take that love with me before Osiris.”

“Seto?” Atem became terrified of Seto’s words and ran after him. But before he could, the High Priest had already shut the door and locked it from the outside with the Millennium Rod. “Seto, what are you talking about? Open this door, dammit! Seeeeetoooo!”

His chest seared with a pain that grew every minute, every hour, that Seto was gone. Atem tried as best as he could to barge the door open, but he wasn’t the most muscular person at the palace. Every push on that door sapped his muscles’ strength and whatever little faith he had left in himself. “Seto… Oh, gods… Please…” he cried, sitting hopelessly at the door as a headache came on. All he could do in that moment was pray to the gods that he would soon be released from the chamber – and that Seto would be the one left standing after the battle. “Seto… I promise it, too… I will not ever renounce my love for you, even in the afterlife.”

Though Atem felt the urge to sleep, he fought to stay awake until that door opened. When it finally did, he spoke with a raspy glee, “Seto! You’re okay-”

To his surprise, his “rescuer” turned out to be Mahad. “…Your Majesty.”

“Oh, Mahad. Isis. When did you get here?”

“I awoke not two hours ago after I heard tumult from outside the palace,” replied Isis. “The monsters led me here, then all of a sudden, they vanished without a fight. We’ve surveyed the area, too. There are no more monsters, and Zorc appears to be dead, too.”

“Then… Then that means Seto is okay, right?”

“…” Mahad turned away to hide the shameful look in his face.

“Mahad?”

“I think you better come with me. There’s… something you need to see.” Mahad helped Atem to stand, and with wobbly legs the pharaoh followed him outside.

Atem didn’t like that Isis cried on the entire walk outside. “What is going on? What happened?”

“That.” Mahad pointed a shaking finger at a body lying in the sand dunes. “That’s what happened.”

The panic began to set in when Atem noticed a flicker of gold and blue. “Oh no… Seto!” Atem ran up to the body to confirm that his deepest fear had come true: Seto had died in the battle against Zorc. “Seto! Seto, no!”

“Atem…” Mahad had never cried in front of anyone until now. “Forgive me… I have failed Pharaoh Aknamkanon, and now Seto… I should have been awake when I needed to be, and then Seto would still be with us.”

“AAAAAAAAHHHH!” Atem wailed to the sky, holding onto Seto’s cold hand desperately, as if trying to restore life into it. “Seto… Seto, you promised… You wouldn’t do anything rash… Oh, my love…”

“Your Majesty, we can mourn him back at the palace,” Isis spoke after she had stopped crying. “After several hours of trying to escape that chamber, I’m sure you’re both tired and hungry.”

“…” As Mahad picked Seto’s corpse off the ground, Atem got up and walked silently. He would remain as such for the entire journey back to the palace. He would remain as such for the entire following day, refusing any food, drink, or human interaction. His retainers pestered him so much that he found it harder and harder to refuse their requests but managed to do it anyway.

Finally, after an entire week of this behaviour, Mahad decided he didn’t need a council meeting or anything. He felt that he was the only one who could talk Atem out of this slump of his and resolved to have a heart-to-heart with him that day, come hell or high water. Marching into his room, he declared, “Your Majesty! We are going to… have a… talk?”

“Mahad?” Shada had come in to the room, too, in an attempt to speak with the pharaoh. “What is it?”

“The pharaoh isn’t in his room!”

“What?” Isis and Karim came onto the scene as well. “Then where?”

“Let’s try the throne room!” Mahad suggested as he led the other High Priests there. Unfortunately for him, he would find no pharaoh there, but instead a glowing light coming out of the Millennium Pendant. “Oh… Oh, no… I think I know what happened.”

“Mahad?” Isis looked at the Pendant with concern.

“He’s trapped himself in an alternate dimension, which means he may not come back.”

“But he still might, won’t he?”

“Who knows… All we can do is pray.”

As much as the priests and all of Egypt prayed for him to come back, none of them could save Atem from what he was about to do. “Seto… My love, wait for me… I’m coming soon…”

Knowing that his time was at an end, he continued to sing the Incantation as his soul slowly left his body until nothing was left.

#yugioh #ygo #prideshipping #scandalshipping #kaiba x yami yugi #kaiba x atem

[thecorteztwins]

Monsoon Visits Krakoa

Based off my “numerous minor Marvel women hit on Monsoon” comedy fic idea. Apologies if anyone feels their fave was maligned or OOC in this. I tried to mostly keep it to characters so obscure no one would care, but Monet St. Croix did make her fabulous way in, and I can see how one would think this behavior is beneath her. Which I don’t disagree with per se, but just try to take it as the lighthearted fic it is!

"Thank you for the assistance,” said the woman in the barely-there purple...swimsuit? Monsoon wasn’t sure. He just knew that you couldn’t yell things like...like what those men had been saying at her...just because she wore something like that. Even if it made him uncomfortable. Just as it had probably made her even more uncomfortable when said men had followed her into this deserted alley, hence why he had arrived, scaring them off. Yet she seemed...less than thrilled about it. Perhaps she saw his interference as insulting to her own capability? Western women could often be confusing like that, he was frequently unsure what would be offensive or not in their culture. He wanted to be respectful, but it often seemed like the rules were far more individualized here than in India, where--- “But it was uneeded,” she continued, stepping close to him, “Perhaps though, you can make up their loss to me. ” Fantasma traced a purple-nailed finger over his broad chest, “You’re very large and you look healthy. Your morals though are very...human...and while those are not supposed to be genetic, I’d rather not risk those being passed to my children.” “Oh,” he said, relieved but feeling no less awkward about this, “Well, I...wish you the best with your endeavors...” “You can still help with that,” she said, her form beginning to shift, growing larger, purple, clawed, fanged, horned.... “For when they hatch...they will need food...” And that was his cue to fly away. *** “Oh monsieur,” said the French Canadian mutant woman known as Murmur as she fell (more than a little deliberately) into Monsoon’s arms, “You ‘ave no idea my gratitude---not just for your rescue, but for ze touch of a man! You see, my powers, zey can only work by touch, so ze brutes here, they employed only robots to guard me!” “Oh,” said Monsoon, a little cautiously as he found himself carrying her, ”What are your powers, exactly?” ”I can make anyone anyzhing I zay,” breathed Murmur, staring into his eyes with a significant, sultry gaze, then whispered in his ear with sensual emphasis, ”Anyzhing.” Then, giggling and drawing back, she continued, “But ‘ave no worries, mon hero Monsoon, I shall not use it against you---- for I am sure that zhere is nothing I could make you do to me that you do not already want to, non?” Monsoon decided to call her a cab to the nearest Krakoa portal instead of carrying her. *** Speaking of Krakoa, Monsoon didn’t want to go there himself. He didn’t like the idea of it at all. Xavier’s ideals had been far too radical for his tastes to begin with, claiming to stand for peace and unity while cloistering a secret army of mutant soldiers away, training children to become the mutant police. And Magneto, well, he was even worse! He was half the reason there needed to BE mutant police! And now they were separating themselves on to an island, with some of the worst villains among their kind helping to RUN it! No, Monsoon wanted no part of it. Haven had made good arguments to him on why it was a good thing or at least not a bad thing or an unneeded one, but Monsoon didn’t like it and he didn’t want to be a part of it. But some of the mutant children under Haven’s care DID want to be a part of it. Monsoon said they were too young to see the danger, to see that the people running it ranged from misled radicals to literal monsters, to understand they’d be living alongside a great many criminals who had harmed others for fun and profit. But Haven had said that the children should have a choice where they lived. She believed Krakoa COULD be safe. She just also, for all her good points made about why a mutant-only land could be a good thing, had misgivings about just blindly sending the children there. She wanted to give them agency---but she also had to make sure that the options being given to them were safe. Monsoon agreed more than wholeheartedly, and had very literally leaped (into the sky, specifically, to fly to the nearest portal) at the idea of going to the island to visit the kids and snoop around, talk to the residents, get a feel for the place and how it was run...and who was running it. As soon as he stepped out of the portal, he was greeted by two women, a blonde who introduced herself as Phantazia and a redhead who said her name was Dragoness, probably due to the mechanical wings she sported. Both he recognized as former terrorists; Phantazia had been a member of the Brotherhood, Dragoness from the Mutant Liberation Front. Not the people Monsoon wanted to have much to do with...but then, investigating their sort was why he was here. After they put him through security checks, he started asking questions. Phantazia was fairly open to it, with a professional though not friendly demeanor, while Dragoness was...none of the above. ”What is your deal, buddy?!” the latter demanded, “Do you want to live here or not?!” ”I do not,” said Monsoon flatly, “But the children my sister is charged with are--” ”Then why are we wasting our time with you?!” Dragonness cut him off, tossing his paperwork from Phantazia’s clipboard. ”Because I don’t believe this place is safe!” Monsoon bellowed back. ”Then why are you--” ZAP! Phantazia let loose a burst of her electromagnetic energy. She didn’t touch either Monsoon or Dragoness with it, she just made the noise. ”Knock it off, you two!” she barked, “Whatever his reasons for being here, so long as he’s a mutant and not going to cause trouble, he’s got the right to ask anything he wants. If you don’t want to do your job and help, Tamara, you can leave! Mr. Dastoor, I’ll go over everything with you til you’re satisfied, but you MUST remain calm and polite, understand?” Dragoness flew off in a huff, and Phantazia looked pleased. ”Alright now,” she said, turning back to Monsoon, ”Now that she’s out of the picture...as I was saying...we should go over everything...to your satisfaction...” Monsoon did not catch the meaning of her tone...at first, anyway. Five minutes later, he was running off in the opposite direction at random into the wilds of Krakoa...right into where Dragoness had gone, nearly bumping into her. ”Hey! Watch it!” she snarled, her hands crackling with bio-electric bursts ready to fire, ”What?! You again?! You wanna tangle, buddy?! You wanna fight?!” ”No, no!” Monsoon placed his hands up in apology, “I am sorry, I did not mean to do that--I was not watching where I was---” ”Clearly!” she yelled, hurling one of the blasts at him. Caught off guard, he was struck full in the chest, and knocked flat on his back in the mud. He didn’t want to fight her, to commit needless violence over little more than wounded pride, his sister had brought him up better than that and he was representing her here, so he lay still for a moment deciding what to do that wouldn’t set her off again. It seems he waited too long, however, as Dragoness strutted over to him and planted a boot on his chest. ”You know,” she purred smugly, “I think I like you better from this angle...say, look how dirty you got...you’re gonna need to clean up...how does a nice long hot shower sound?” ”Er...I would much appreciate that, ma’am,” said Monsoon, a bit hesitant and confused. He would appreciate it, but he wasn’t sure what to make of her change in tone and demeanor. She sounded like...like... Oh no. He realized...she sounded like Phantazia had. And Murmur. And, to a point, Fantasma. He began trying to wriggle out from under her foot. ”Hey! Where you going big boy?!” Dragoness called after him as he scampered away into the bushes in a very undignified way. Undignified...but unmolested. *** He reached a visitors area that had a bathroom, where he was allowed to shower and swap his muddy clothes for clean ones. The bath station attendant was a woman named Lorelei---evident by how she referred to herself only in the third person---and she didn’t seem to speak English well, using a broken, childish syntax. But they communicated just fine all the same. ”Lorelei help?” she asked, as she handed him a towel and bath supplies before he headed to the showers. ”Yes, you have been very helpful,” Monsoon said, “Thank you very much, Lorelei.” ”Lorelei help soon.” ”Yes, see you soon,” he understood that was a common American way of saying goodbye. But it seemed she’d meant it a little more...literally. As he’d been washing his hair, the curtain was pulled aside, and there stood Loreleil. Completely naked. ”Lorelei help?” she said, picking up a sponge. Monsoon tore out of there, grabbing the new set of clothes on the way out. *** “Of course it is safe,” Monet St. Croix said in a dismissive tut-tut tone to Monsoon as they toured one of the residential areas, “You think I would bring my precious little sisters here if it were not?” “That was why I wanted to ask you,” said Monsoon, as the aforementioned little sisters ran around his legs, “Since you have children.” “I also have a brother. An older brother. An evil older brother who feeds on other mutants and who is ALSO on this island. If I thought for ONE moment that he could EVER even POSSIBLY get to myself or my sisters, I would fly us all halfway around the world in the blink of an eye, monsieur. I am INSULTED you even have to ASK.” “I...I see,” said Monsoon, not having expected so fiery a response, despite his own temper being similarly hot, especially when it came to his own temper. “I should hope so,” she huffed, “But...since your intentions were good, I am prepared to forgive you. What say we go somewhere Nicole and Claudette shall not bother us? Somewhere...private?” That was when he realized she had started unzipping the top of her costume. “I...er...I must converse with others, ma’am, thank you!” he said, and raised himself aloft on the winds. Thankfully, even though he was in the air, it was still beneath Monet St. Croix to follow. *** From overhead, he sighted a serene-looking glade, brilliantly green grass and foliage surrounding a clear blue natural pool, and he descended. As he touched down near the pool’s edge, a woman’s voice greeted him, and he turned to see in the shadow of a large bush, a blonde in a dark costume that had not been visible from above due to the trees. “Hello there. Thank you for joining me. I hope it doesn’t disappoint you to find someone else here---I know it’s the sort of place people go to be alone, but I never like being ENTIRELY alone. I just don’t like crowds either.” Her name was Darkstar, and, as someone raised with a few other---but not many---mutant peers in a Soviet “school” that was in fact a state facility, then went on to a lifetime of serving on mostly-Russian superhero teams, she indeed wasn’t used to either crowds or solitude. She always had at least two other teammates with her...but never a great number either, like on Krakoa, where there were no more “teams”, where all mutants were one. It reminded her of home, in that way, though when she said that to others, it was taken as a criticism. They introduced themselves, Monsoon a bit cautious, but she didn’t throw herself at him or start taking off her clothes, and it turned out she was nice. She was even receptive when he brought up his issues with Krakoa and how it was run. “But speaking of that,” she said, after listening, and even agreeing with some points, “I am a resident of Krakoa. And as a member of this state...I abide by its laws. Currently, we are being encouraged to...to breed. I realize this is quite forward, but I was wondering if you might---” And Monsoon had shot into the air and zoomed away before Laynia “Darkstar” Petrovna could even finish asking him if she could get his opinion as a man on the outfits she was considering for her date tonight *** “Oh wow,” said a blonde barely out of her teens as he landed among a crowd of mutants near her, “Looks like it’s my lucky day. But then, it always is, for the likes of me, Roulette! And you’re about to get even luckier, stranger!” Aaaaand he was in the air again.  *** Monsoon very carefully selected the next people he spoke to---namely, he ensured they were MEN. They were also villains. He’d never heard of Shinobi Shaw, but he knew Fabian Cortez, he had been in the news as the terrorist who temporarily took over Genosha, around the same time Radha had been a...Monsoon still didn’t like to think of his sister as a villain. It didn’t count! It wasn’t her fault! And of course, Radha being Radha, she said that just as no one had known her real story, her real situation, they shouldn’t assume that others didn’t have such stories of their own, but...he doubted it. Especially within three minutes of speaking to these two. But the fact they were clearly slimy, self-centered, self-important hedonists who were NOTHING like his sister meant they were probably the best people to talk to, because they were the sorts of people he was worried about. ...of course, increasingly he was wondering why, as he wasn’t sure these two seemed competent enough to actually be dangerous. ”I see,” he said stiffly once he felt he’d found out all he needed or could from this pair, and wanting to get away from them as swiftly as possible. He was starting to feel he needed another shower. But what he actually needed was clothing. He really didn’t want to go home in the...uniform, for lack of a better word, that Lorelei had provided him with. It seemed that, along with human languages and other cultural mores, the mutants of Krakoa wished to do away with human manners of dress. But Shinobi Shaw was still dressing like a...well, not how Monsoon would dress, but like SOME people in the rest of the world would. He felt like Radha might like his style though; lots of purple and gold. ”Thank you both immensely for your help, I appreciate your time and patience with me. I have but one more question to trouble you with.” ”If you must,” Fabian sighed as though this were an exhausting ordeal that he was a saint for indulging. ”Shoot, stud,” said Shinobi, twirling a lock of his hair around one gloved fingers. ”I wish to procure clothing that is not a....a skinsuit,” Monsoon said, gesturing to the one he wore. ”Understandable,” said Fabian in a gently lofty and patronizing tone, “Not all of us look as good in them as I.” ”But since Aloba here does and then some, I’m reluctant to ruin the view,” Shinobi returned, “Still, if you’re looking for anything to do with textiles....Skein is who you want to talk to.” ”Skein?” Monsoon asked, his tone revealing his familiarity with the name. ”You know her?” said Fabian, “Ah, I apologize to you for how much she’s doubtlessly RAVED about me to you. She’s hopelessly---” ”Down the street, third home on the left,” Shinobi cut him off, “Don’t let this bozo come with, or he’ll distract her entirely.” ”It’s true,” Fabian smirked, “She just can’t keep her mind on work when I’m around.” As Monsoon left, he was fairly sure he saw Shinobi’s eyes roll at the ginger’s last comment. *** Monsoon was, understandably, cautious as he entered Skein’s abode and made his request. ”Basic salwar kameez?” she replied, “Yeah, I can whip that right up. Just give me what you’re wearing now and I’ll re-arrange the fabric.” ”But, ah...this is all I have here...” Monsoon said nervously. ”Wait in my room,” Skein said. ”I...would prefer not to.” ”Look, I’m not gonna come in and molest you, just hang out with your thang out for a few minutes and I’ll pass you back your fancy new suit, k?” ”You’re...not?” Monsoon asked. Skein raised her eyebrows. She’d been joking around. But this guy seemed sincerely relieved. “Nah. You’re too much of a hardbody for me, big boy. But tell your sister I said hi.” Monsoon said he would, unaware of the implication there. Just as Haven would be later when he told her. *** As Monsoon stepped out of the Krakoa portal, he very nearly knocked over...oh no...an attractive, scantily clad woman. ”Hey, watch it buddy, I’m walking here!” she cawed at him. Ah, he’d emerged in New York. Heidi P. Franklin aka Pretty Persuasions regarded him. She in fact had NOT been walking by, but waiting outside the portal, hoping for someone to come out who could get her in. Heidi was NOT a mutant, having gained her powers through being experimented on instead, but she WAS a partier...and Krakoa sounded like one HOT party, if the rumors were to be believed. ”Hey, I know how you can make it up to me,” she purred, and Monsoon winced. He knew THAT tone by now. Pushing herself up against him, she continued, “Get me into Krakoa, big boy.” ”I wouldn’t know how,” he said, trying to push her away as gently as possible without actually touching her, “If the portal will not let you through, then there is nothing I can---” ”Oh come on now...for me?” All of a sudden he felt...aroused. More than the natural animal reaction he’d had to other women; that had been buried under his embarrassment and his personal values and his spiritual choice to abstain before marriage...this, this was stronger, clouding his mind, making him want to do...not just do her, but do anything she wanted him to. Anything. This was too far. The other women had said things. Some had even touched him. But this woman was manipulating his mind, his body, touching him from within, making him--- She grabbed his crotch. “NO!” he shoved her away, driven too far at last, a blast of wind carrying her even farther than his heavy shove had. He was momentarily horrified---but, as he saw her getting to her feet, he was not regretful. He was also not sticking around. *** ”Well?” Haven asked him when he returned, “What did you discover.” ”It, er...might not be safe for children,” he said, ”But it is definitely not safe for adults.” END

#out of cortez #fic #writing

[musicprincess655]

Ryuu tries to pretend this situation is just the same as any other time he’s gotten a message from Fukuzawa. He fails, but he does try.

Atsushi’s friend Lucy was arrested. Fukuzawa has asked him to save her.

Ryuu tries to pretend this situation is just the same because if he admits there is a difference, there is only a short leap to admitting that Atsushi is the difference, and Ryuu cannot admit that.

Lucy is in the Correctional Facility. Please rescue her.

Fukuzawa seems to believe Ryuu is capable of this. Ryuu doesn’t know what he’s done to earn that level of faith. Saving Atsushi earned him more goodwill than he would have thought possible, but still, Fukuzawa has a very inflated idea of what Ryuu can do.

Pulling Atsushi from a police car in a barely populated area is very different from breaking into the most secure facility in No. 6. Ryuu was lucky he even managed to escape from it. How is he supposed to break back in, and then pull off the most impressive feat of his life a second time?

It’s impossible. Ryuu is going to do it anyway.

He’s not entirely clear on what Atsushi’s relationship to Lucy is. He knows they’re close, enough that when Ryuu sent a rat to warn Atsushi on the off chance that running would help, Lucy was there, trying to convince Atsushi to run away with her and join the Guild. In the few instances Ryuu checked in with Atsushi over the years, Lucy was usually there, a constant in Atsushi’s life.

She loves him. Atsushi claimed not to feel the same way. Ryuu sees no reason for him to have lied, so he takes Atsushi at his word, though they weren’t spoken to Ryuu. Maybe that’s a better reason to trust them, although as far as Ryuu knows, Atsushi has never lied to him.

Still, Atsushi cares about her. In the few times her name has come up, Atsushi obviously cares. And since he’s so desperate to prove he has the right to live by sacrificing himself for someone else, it’s obvious what he will do if he finds out.

Atsushi will charge in after her, reckless, stupid, and he will get himself killed. And everyone will mourn him, because everyone loves Atsushi, and Ryuu may have spent a long time not caring whether Atsushi lives or dies, but he does care about his family, and he will not let them be in pain if he can help it.

Ryuu could try to keep the truth from Atsushi, but he doubts that would work for long. Despite all the insults he hurls, Atsushi isn’t stupid. He would figure it out, and his anger at Ryuu for hiding the truth would only make him more reckless.

And besides, they’re something like friends now. Ryuu enjoys peace far more than he ever would have thought possible. He doesn’t really want to go back to the way they were before, always at each other’s throats, always fighting.

So if Ryuu is going to go on a suicide mission, he’s going alone. Gin would back him up, but she’d tell Dazai and Chuuya, insist on having their help, and Dazai would tell Atsushi, and that defeats Ryuu’s whole purpose of keeping this from Atsushi until the whole thing is settled.

Instead, Ryuu turns to Kyouka.

She very nearly stabs him when he turns up unannounced, which he guesses is fair. He was never the nicest to her, and he knows she trusts him about as far as she can throw him. Which might actually be far, but isn’t the point.

“What are you doing here?” she demands, threatening him with her knife.

“The same thing I’m always doing here,” Ryuu says, almost bored. This part is predictable, and Ryuu just wants to get past it and get what he came here for. “I want information.”

“Tough.”

“I didn’t say I wanted it for free.” Ryuu tosses the bag of money between them. He has plenty to spare. He very rarely spends any of his cuts from smuggling on himself, because he doesn’t quite know what he’s supposed to spend them on. Money just kind of accumulates. “Name your price.”

Kyouka very slowly lowers her knife.

“You should know better than to open negotiations like that,” she says. “What do you want so bad?”

“I need to get into the Correctional Facility.”

That gets about the reaction Ryuu expected. Kyouka blinks at him, once, then again, then lowers her knife completely.

“Can’t be done,” she says. “Keep your money.”

“There has to be a way,” Ryuu says. “Find it.”

“Why?” Kyouka asks. “I can’t believe Dazai and Chuuya would agree to something like this. It’s way too high risk. What are you trying to get?”

“Dazai-san and Chuuya-san aren’t involved,” Ryuu says. “It’s just me. And this is a rescue mission.”

“You don’t do rescue missions,” Kyouka says, eyes narrowing. “The only one you’ve ever done is when Atsushi was in trouble.” Her eyes widen. “Is he…?”

“He’s fine,” Ryuu says. “A friend of his isn’t. That’s who needs rescuing.”

Kyouka considers him for so long that Ryuu is sure she’s just going to tell him it can’t be done again. He’ll probably believe her, but he still needs any information she can give him, so he’s going to have to find a way to be persuasive.

“You’re going in alone,” she says, not a question. Ryuu nods. “Why?”

“I can move quicker alone,” Ryuu says. Kyouka doesn’t look impressed. “And if I tell one of the others, Nakajima will find out.”

“And you don’t want him to. Can’t stand for him to know you can do something nice?” Kyouka asks.

“To keep him from coming along.”

“Doesn’t he deserve to help save his friend?”

“Not at the cost of going to that place.” Kyouka has never been there, but Ryuu knows she must know at least some of the horrors wrapped up in there. She deals in information, it’s impossible that she doesn’t. “Seeing what’s there will break him. It’ll change him.”

He thought that would be a pretty sound argument to get her on his side, but instead, her eyes go hard.

“Is he still going to be worth something to you when he falls off that pedestal you put him on?” she asks quietly.

“What pedestal?” Ryuu scoffs. “I haven’t put him on a pedestal.”

“Really. Then why don’t you want him to go into the Correctional Facility?”

“Because…” Ryuu trails off as the memories overtake him. The experiments. The scientists. The pain, the horrors, the things that still haunt his nightmares. Those would cloud the light in Atsushi’s eyes, and Ryuu cannot allow that to happen. “He shouldn’t have to see that.”

“Why?” Kyouka asks again. “Because you’re scared it would turn him dark? That he’d lose something he has? Something that makes him worth something to you?”

“That’s not it,” Ryuu protests.

He does not want to examine this. He didn’t want to examine why this situation with Fukuzawa and Lucy was different, and he certainly doesn’t want to know why he wants to keep Atsushi’s stupid rose-colored glasses in place. All he knows is that Atsushi looks at the world and hopes, and Ryuu almost can’t help wanting to chase that. Is it so wrong to want to keep things the way they are?

“He’s not going to save you from yourself,” Kyouka says. “He’s not some paragon of goodness for you to follow. So I’ll ask again: is he still going to be worth something to you when he falls off the pedestal you put him on?”

Ryuu works very hard not to snap at her. It would be counterproductive, and he’s really doing his best to use his head.

“His worth is not going to change because of anything that happens in there,” Ryuu finally says.

“You know, someday you’re going to have to see him for who he is, not who you want him to be,” Kyouka says. “He’s not the weakling you thought he was, and he’s also not some perfect person to aspire to. He’s just Atsushi. See him as Atsushi.”

“Why does it matter?”

“He’s learning to see you for who you are,” Kyouka says. “The least you can do is do the same for him.”

“Are you going to help me or not?”

“Tell me you’re not going to drop him when you see he’s not exactly what you think of him, and I’ll consider it.”

“I’m not going to drop him,” Ryuu says. He’s not sure what Kyouka means by seeing Atsushi as he is, but the only thing Ryuu is trying to do is protect the way Atsushi looks at the world, and that will be irrevocably changed if Atsushi sees what humans can do to each other in that place. “Now. Are you going to help me?”

Kyouka sighs, and picks up his bag of money.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you.” He realizes only after she raises her eyebrow how out of character that was for him. “I’ll be back in a week. This needs to happen fast.”

He doubts all those orders he barked at her will erase the thanks.

Ryuu is looking forward to taking a long walk around the West Block, long enough to forget the conversation he and Kyouka just had, so naturally, Atsushi finds him fifteen minutes later.

“What are you doing way out here?” Atsushi asks.

“None of your business,” Ryuu growls at him. Instead of snapping, which Ryuu kind of expects, Atsushi rolls his eyes and falls into step.

“Have you heard from Fukuzawa lately?” Atsushi asks. “I wanted to hear how it turned out with Kunikida-san and that lady.”

Because Ryuu’s life hadn’t gone strange enough when Atsushi joined it, he is now playing some kind of facilitator for the ongoing soap opera that is the detective agency. Fukuzawa has now gotten in the habit of sending one message for Ryuu, with actual relevant information, and one for Atsushi, with details about everyone’s lives. And as if Ryuu wasn’t already involved enough, Atsushi will spin the stories for him, giving him extra insight into everyone’s past as he remembers it, so now Ryuu also knows things.

Like that Yosano likes to drag one of the younger boys with her when she goes shopping, and in Atsushi’s absence Tanizaki has been selected as her gofer. Like that, with so many mentions of the Guild around, Poe has retreated in on himself, much to Ranpo’s annoyance. And now, like that Kunikida had been working up to asking a particular woman on a date for weeks now.

Ryuu doesn’t know any of these people, but Atsushi speaks to him as if he does, and Ryuu has started to feel like a part in all of their lives without ever having met them. Atsushi talks about them freely, affection obvious, talks about the things he’s glad they’re keeping, the things he hopes they can change with time.

That, more than anything, might be why Ryuu doesn’t want to let Atsushi see the Correctional Facility. Atsushi looks at the world and sees the things he wants to change, and he truly believes those things can happen. Even when he and Ryuu hated each other, he looked at Ryuu and saw potential, and even though he forced Ryuu into it, even though Ryuu bit and growled and strained against it, he has slowly started to turn.

And now, though Ryuu scoffed at the very idea of needing to change, things are better. The strange impasse he’s always been at with Dazai, one he thought would never go away, is hardly there anymore. He and Dazai are still two fundamentally different people, and that comes with challenges that won’t ever really go away, but as Ryuu drops to a more supportive role, as he lets go of his need for strength to protect the people he cares about and starts to rely on his mind, the strain between him and Dazai has soothed.

That is because Atsushi gave Ryuu a reason to change and forced him to do so. While Ryuu is still a little angry about the methods, he can’t argue with the results.

Would Atsushi still be able to do that? To look at the world and see change, and have the ability to make it happen? Ryuu doesn’t, because Ryuu has seen the very worst of humanity in the Correctional Facility, and he doesn’t believe Atsushi could either.

“I haven’t heard anything,” Ryuu lies. He’s not sure if he’s any good at it. Ryuu almost never lies, because he so very rarely needs to. The worst he ever does is with Gin, a simple no I didn’t take your thing they both do and never believe.

“Really.” Ryuu waits for Atsushi to call him on it. Atsushi used to be a detective, surely he can tell when he’s being lied to. “Well, let me know if you do, I guess.”

Ryuu doesn’t believe for a second that Atsushi didn’t catch the lie, and he doesn’t understand at first why Atsushi lets him tell it anyway. And then…

Of course. Atsushi is an idiot at heart. Atsushi has faith that Ryuu either has a reason for lying or will tell him eventually. Atsushi believes in him.

That’s what Ryuu wants to preserve. That’s why, no matter what Kyouka says, Atsushi cannot fall off a pedestal, because Ryuu hasn’t put him on one. He’s not an ideal to be aspired to. It’s just that his belief is not something that Ryuu wants to give up. He’s come to crave it just as much as Dazai’s approval, and if Atsushi is no longer the kind of person that can believe in the impossible, why would he continue to believe in Ryuu?

#shin soukoku #sskk #akuatsu #atsuaku #bungou stray dogs #bsd #my writing #no. 6 au #systasis

[tyrannized]

Although it goes unmentioned by him, H.ans has his body under curses that his novel characters suffered through involving their bad endings. It causes him great pains depending on the emotions he feels to the point he becomes moody fast, feelings of love causes him the most pain due to the belief that he should suffer for what he did to his protagonists typically. As for the extent of the curses properties it is for now a mystery on what it did to his body entirely, due to believing he shouldn’t also be open again with his heart as he once was, H.ans also will use the annoyance caused by the pain to sling venomous remarks and insults to drive away others.

There is of course one exception to this due to her nature and the fact that he felt a bond to the point he cannot deny it, but even she still is on the receiving end of his harsh words.

#█║ 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿. : hans christian andersen / meta + dash game. #I'm FC hunting for him because I wanted to use his older body #but this is gonna need to be fixed later #or cleaned up at least. #I assume that H.ans whenever he does it to K.iara thanks to CCC #and other things about it #is unable to do it as strongly #though he won't admit it to others. #He is more than capable of hurling insults to the point of cutting into people #yet with her they come out 'strong' but he can't bring himself to commit to them. #He won't drive her away no matter how much his mouth tries to #because he stops himself from doing it.

[planetjeon]

hurricane | jungkook [pt.2]

part one masterlist

words: 2.6k genre: angst + a teensy bit of fluff at the end summary: as with the people wrongly convicted of crimes, you felt betrayed, hurt, anger, sadness, as the people you thought knew you, didn’t really at all.

a/n: if you've been following me for a while you'll know i absolutely suck at regular updates but i hope this will suffice as an apology for not updating in so fucking long :)

you weren't sure how long you'd sat on the cold floor of the dance studio after the boys left, trying to stop your tears from flowing and getting yourself to breathe normally again. you only got up when a staff member entered to call to you bang-pd's office.

the sense of foreboding that hung around you like a blanket didn't leave as you took a seat in front of bang-pd's desk. the man looked solemn, a change from his usual jolly face.

"i hear there's been some sort of.. trouble between you and the boys and jiyeon?" he asked.

you sighed. "with all due respect sir, i didn't have anything to do with jiyeon's injuries." that was all you managed to say. you were tired of trying to explain everything else.

bang-pd leaned forward over his desk, his hands clasped together in front of him as he himself let out a huge sigh.

"even if you did not inflict those bruises on her, right now, you are the main issue that's preventing the whole thing from being resolved." he paused, pursing his lips together as if he was about to regret his next words. "i'm afraid i'm going to have to ask you to leave your position at the company. i won't have the boys so caught up in this issue when they could be spending their time more wisely." 

you felt your face drain of blood and the lump you'd tried to hard to suppress pushed at your throat. you wanted to laugh, maniacally. you wanted to burst out crying. you wanted to yell out to claim your innocence. 

but instead, all you did was nod, and hang your head. "thank you." you said simply. "m-may i go now?"

bang-pd lifted his hand to gesture to the door and you stood up, bowing as best as you could while pushing all your emotions down, and left the room.

you maintained your poker face as you walked past the few bighit staff you'd known in all the years you'd been at the company on the way to the elevator. you daren't look up, for fear of seeing looks of disgust towards the girl they thought beat up their dear jiyeon, or looks of pity towards the girl who just had a solo sitdown with the big boss.

you took the elevator back down to the dance studio. the boys were back in it, practicing hard facing the mirror. jiyeon was nowhere to be seen. you took a deep breath before stepping in and walking as confidently as you could to your locker.

you could feel everyone's eyes on you but you focused on getting your locker open. the collage of polaroids and pictures of you and the boys stuck onto the inside of the locker door greeted you as you opened it. ignoring the smiling faces in the pictures depicting the much happier times, you grabbed your two extra set of clothes, sneakers, hair accessories and toiletries, piling them all into your arms.

when you were sure you'd cleared out everything inside the locker, you looked at the pictures on the door and in one swipe of your hand, grabbed and pulled all of them off, tossing them into the trashcan next to you. 

without another glance at the empty locker or anyone in the room, you held onto the rest of your things and walked out. your face and neck burned in embarrassment as you thought of what the others might be thinking. they must've known you'd gotten kicked out of the company, or you wouldn't have had to clear your locker.

the next few weeks were more stressful than ever. somehow, word got out to the fans that you'd beat up jiyeon and people made the assumption that the fight had to be over jungkook. all the 'fans' who'd been against you and jungkook in the first place finally had a real reason to hate on you.

the hate came twice as fast, twice as strong and you found yourself terrified to even leave the house in fear of meeting a fan crazy enough to physically hurt you. the few fans that had dared to come outside your apartment complex to yell insults at your door and spout horrible things about you to the neighbours walking past had proven that there were some people capable of it.

your best friend, seolhyun offered her place to you to take refuge in while she was out of town but you declined. the last thing you wanted was for fans to find her address and turn their rampage on her instead.

you were a wreck. you daren't leave the house and you barely had any appetite - if at all - and you never managed to get much sleep either.

the thread holding onto your mental wellbeing finally snapped when the fans who hurled cuss words at your door turned to throwing eggs at it instead. the sound of the eggs cracking against your door and window were enough to break you down and you collapsed in the middle of your living room floor.

that was where your neighbour, a kind middle-aged lady found you. hours after you'd collapsed, she'd come home to see the eggs dripping down your door and knocked to check on you. when she didn't hear an answer, she decided to use the key you'd given her for emergencies to enter, meaning to leave some hot tea and food after she cleaned up your door and windows for you.

instead, she found you lying on the ground and called an ambulance immediately.

when you awoke, you found yourself lying in a hospital bed. the doctor came in to brief you on your situation. apparently, the stress from going wrong at once and your lack of proper meals took a huge toll on your body, causing you to collapse.

a few hours of rest later, jin walked into your ward, much to your surprise until you remembered that you'd put him down as your emergency contact as neither jungkook nor seolhyun were adults when you first had to fill in that information.

you were nervous about how he was going to treat you as you watched him get briefed by the doctor on your situation.

thankfully, the conversation was minimal as he helped you out of the bed and brought you to his car. on the car ride back to your apartment, he asked if you were alright. all you could do was nod.

when you got to your apartment building, he insisted on taking your things up for you. when you arrived to your door, you were shocked to see it clean of broken egg shells and raw egg. you realised why when you opened the door to see mrs kim from next door tidying up your living room, a pot of delicious-smelling soup on the stove.

"how are you feeling, dear?" she asked kindly after making sure you were seated on the couch. 

"i'm a lot better now, mrs kim, thank you. for everything." you gratefully accepted the cup of warn water she'd brought you.

"it's no problem at all. i've also called the cops on the people who have been saying nasty things about you outside and throwing the eggs at your door." she said.

"who's been throwing eggs at your door?" jin asked from the kitchen, where he'd been put in charge of stirring the soup mrs kim was making.

you were about to speak up to tell him it was nothing but mrs kim beat you to it. "oh you don't know? the girls who have been yelling horrible things and cuss words outside her door have also been throwing eggs! hooligans!" 

jin didn't answer, but you could tell he was mad. he waited till after mrs kim left to ask you more about it. "army?" he asked.

you shook your head. "it's just the same sasaeng fans who have been on my ass since jungkook and I were announced." 

he simply sighed in response while bringing a bowl of the soup to the couch for you. 

"thank you." you told him as he took a seat next to you on the couch. "you didn't have to do any of this for me. you didn't have to come to the hospital, or take me home, or just- any of this." you felt overwhelmed with emotion, and tears pricked at your eyes before you could push them back. you never thought you would see any of the boys again.

"i'm sorry for what happened. but i'm sure if you came back to apologise to jiyeon, the boys would forgive you. bang-pd would give you your job back." he suggested.

you didn't say anything, too tired to defend your name once again.

jin left after getting a blanket to drape over you after you fell asleep on the couch. he had to get back to the studio before any of the other boys wondered where he was. none of them knew he'd gone to get you from the hospital.

when he walked into the dance studio, he was shocked to see jiyeon sitting on the couch, the rest of the boys surrounding her. 

the girl was crying and there were two new bruises on her arms.

jimin was the first one to notice he'd walked in. "hyung, (y/n) she.. she beat jiyeon up again."

jin stood still as realisation dawned on him. taking 3 steps forward towards jiyeon, he found himself shaking with rage. "you!" he pointed an accusing finger at the girl who'd managed to make herself look so convincingly small, like a victim.

"what the fuck have you done?" he yelled. 

"hyung! what's going on?" hoseok asked.

"(y/n) didn't do this. she didn't do any of this." he gestured to the bruises that painted jiyeon's body.

"hyung, yes she did. you saw what happened the last time she-"

jin cut namjoon off before he could continue. "no, she didn't do it the last time, and she didn't do it this time either. a-and she tried to tell us, but we didn't believe her.." 

"what are you saying, hyung?" taehyung asked.

"i was just with (y/n). i went to get her from the hospital. she fainted from stress. from all of this. she was at the hospital the entire day, then i brought her home and stayed with her until she fell asleep. she didn't do any of this, jiyeon is making it up!"

his last five words shook the whole room. the boys were frozen. jiyeon got up. "oppa, she did this to me yesterday. she came at me and just started hitting me and yelling at me and-" 

"that's enough, jiyeon!" this time it wasn't jin who yelled. jiyeon turned her head to yoongi who was seated on the couch. "get out." he said, his voice dripping with venom. 

jiyeon's face crumpled professionally, tears rolling down her cheeks. "yo-you don't believe me? look what she's doing, (y/n) beat me up and now she's turning all of you against me!" 

"i said, get out, jiyeon. no one here believes a word you say. not anymore." yoongi got up and walked to the door, holding it open for her.

when jiyeon still refused to move, sejin entered from where he'd been listening outside the door and picked her up by her arms and carried her out kicking and screaming to be let go.

yoongi shut the door behind them and it was just left with the 7 boys in the room.

"hyung, did we- did we do that to (y/n)?" jimin asked. he was sitting on the floor, distraught at the newfound information.

the rest of the boys held their heads in shame at what they'd done to you.

jungkook, who'd been silent throughout the entire thing, finally spoke up. "is she okay?" he asked jin.

jin looked at the youngest in pity, he knew just how much jungkook would be beating himself up for this, for going against his girlfriend. "she'll be better once we all go over to apologise." 

jin knocked on your door instead of using the key mrs kim had given him to ensure he would be able to go over to check on you in case anything else happened because he knew it would've been too much for all 7 of them to walk into your house.

you opened the door, hair disheveled from sleeping, eyes still tired from being woken up, the blanket he'd put over you draped over your shoulders. at the sight of all 7 boys standing in front of you, you were shocked awake.

"w-what's going on?" you asked.

"let us in to explain?" jin asked and you took a step aside to let the boys in. all of them shot you sheepish smiles of greeting, except jungkook, who avoided eye contact with you completely.

once everyone was seated around your couch, you looked to jin for an explanation but jimin and taehyung were the ones who spoke up to explain.

when they told you how jiyeon had tried to make it seem as if you'd hit her again, you felt your blood boil, but when they revealed that they'd found out she was lying this entire time, you wanted to cry. you were relieved your name was finally cleared and you were able to see your brothers again. 

jimin, the ever-so-touchy one, was the first to get up from his seat and give you a hug. the other boys followed suit and before you knew it, you were in the middle of the best group hug you'd ever had. glancing out from under namjoon's armpit, you could see jungkook still in his seat on the edge of the couch. 

as the boys released you one by one, taehyung was the last to let go. he wiped your tears from your cheeks and followed your gaze to jungkook. "alright, we should get going now, we'll come by for dinner tomorrow if that's okay?" 

you nodded, excited at the prospect of having everyone over again like the old times. almost. you thought as your gaze flitted over to your boyfriend who hadn't said a word or even acknowledged you since he came in. 

the boys got up and began to file out one by one. as jungkook made a move to get up off the couch, taehyung shoved him by the shoulders to make him sit. he jerked his head over to you and gave jungkook a reassuring squeeze on the shoulders.

the rest of the boys left and it was just you and jungkook in your living room.

the awkward tension was so thick you could cut through it with a knife. you didn't know what to say and you silently begged for him to break the silence.

"i'm so sorry." he said softly. his head still hung down in shame and you wanted nothing more than to go over to give him a comforting hug. so you did.

you planted yourself right next to him on the couch and wrapped your arms around his torso, squeezing it slightly. his arms moved around your waist and he pulled you closer onto his lap. 

nuzzling his nose into your neck, he breathed the apology three more times into your skin. 

"i should've known better. i should've trusted you." his voice sounded so broken, so upset with himself and you wanted to do anything to make him happy again.

pushing his chin up so you were face to face, you pressed your lips against his, shutting your eyes to relish in the familiar feeling. "you trust me now, don't you?" you asked him.

"i will always trust you now. i promise." he said breathlessly. 

you smiled at his words. "that's all that matters to me." you said, moving your arms to wrap around his neck, fingers playing with the hair at the back of his head.

your lips connected once again and you let out a huge sigh of relief. you were finally out of the hurricane.

feedback is always appreciated! 

#afkjegedgij my endings suck #writing #angstykpopnet #btswritersguild #jungkook fic #bts #bts fic #jungkook #jungkook angst #bts angst #mine #namjoon #rm #seokjin #jin #yoongi #suga #hoseok #jhope #jimin #taehyung #v

[your-brother-crutchie]

Help

Race is having trouble at school with the Delancey brothers and trying to hide it from Spot. 

Thank you so much, Anon! That’s so kind! I’m so glad that you like my writing. :)

Also, hello, I’m back! I’m so sorry I disappeared a little but school’s started again and I’ve been really sick and preparing for an audition for my school show.

I’ll probably write a follow up to this at some point.

His back pressed against the cold stone, Race fumbled with his lighter as he struggled to light the cigarette in the wind. He grumbled softly, covering the end with his hand and almost going cross-eyed to focus on whether the cigarette was lighting or not.

When he finally managed to light it, he inhaled deeply and breathed out a sigh of relief. Smoking used to just be a fun thing for him but, recently, it had started to become more of a stress habit. Race could feel himself becoming addicted but he didn’t know any way to stop it.

He was waiting for his boyfriend to turn up, bag lying carelessly beside him as he blew smoke up and into the air, enjoying watching it drift away on the wind. He’d been with Spot for almost a year, though his high strung boyfriend with the superiority complex would say it had only been three months. They’d been acting like a couple and sleeping together long before they made it official but that was still seven months ago. However, they’d only come out three months ago and if people thought that Spot Conlon was capable of secrets, who knows what they’d have done to find more. Better to pretend that they’d never been hiding.

“What do we have here?” Snapping upright and stubbing out his cigarette, Race’s body immediately became on-guard when he heard the whiny voice of Morris Delancey. He knew that he wouldn’t be alone; the Delancey brothers only ever travelled in pairs and, even if they ever did separate, Morris was too pathetic to ever think about cornering someone on his own.

Race looked up to see the Delanceys approaching venomously, their crooked lips lifting on one corner with a cruel grin. Ever since Race and Spot had come out, they’d refused to leave him alone. He knew that he should have told Spot but he was stronger than that; he didn’t need his boyfriend fighting his battles for him and he certainly didn’t want to be known as just another one of Spot’s wards. Race could fight for himself and he could certainly put up with the Delanceys throwing insults at him every time they passed in the corridor.

Except, he couldn’t put up with it anymore. For the first couple of months, Race would fire back at them, replacing their taunts with quick-witted quips and snarky smiles, but it hadn’t stopped. In fact, it had just gotten worse. If Race was ever alone, he could guarantee on the Delanceys finding him so he’d just started giving up. Answering back all of the time was exhausting and it never got physical anyway. He just couldn’t be bothered.

He looked at Oscar, tired and just waiting for whatever insult was coming next, “Little Racie Higgins, all alone without his big, strong boyfriend to protect him.” They laughed, mouths wide and repulsive as a fleck of spit landed on Race’s cheek. He cringed away, just wanting to leave and extract himself from the situation without having to deal with it. Oscar sighed, watching as Race tried to make himself as small as possible. He snarled, stepping closer and shoving him harshly.

The breath left Race’s body as the back of his head cracked against the wall behind him and he fell, winded, in a pile at their feet. Shocked, he gasped for breath and struggled to clamber onto his hands and knees. They’d never hit him before but he was too defeated to even think about fighting back.

Cackling, Oscar nudged him harshly with the toe of his shoe. When Race looked up, he caught sight of the similar faces staring down at him and turned his face away, “This how Conlon likes you? God, you’re pathetic.”

Morris pushed him again, scoffing as Race just hit the floor with about as much resistance as a lifeless body, “Not even fighting back. Or is it ‘cause you like it rough?” Snickering, Morris kicked at Race’s ribs, laughing as he doubled over in pain. Oscar soon joined in and Race quickly became numb as he registered blow after blow to his torso.

After kicking at him violently, Oscar placed his hand on Morris’s upper arm and pushed him away slightly. He looked down at Race’s twisted, writhing body with a smirk and pressed his foot down on his ribs, gradually increasing the pressure as Race began seeing black spots and his breaths came unevenly. He could barely breathe and they only came when he could manage them but he still couldn’t muster the strength to escape.

Oscar suddenly stopped and gave Race only second to catch his breath before pulling him to his knees by his collar. Nose trickling blood, Race waited patiently for the blow as he watched his arm swing back, almost in slow motion, and squeezed his eyelids together.

“Hey!” When Race opened his eyes, he noticed that Oscar’s fist had never connected. He couldn’t see who was helping him but they hurled Oscar away from Race and into his brother as if it was nothing. They pulled them up quickly, landing echoing punches onto their faces before they struggled to their feet and scampered away to lick their wounds.

When he turned back to him, Race saw Spot standing over him and groaned, rolling over to hide his face as he felt shame burning his cheeks. He should have known that he wouldn’t be able to hide it from Spot for forever, “I didn’t need your help.”

Scoffing, Spot reached forwards to help Race clamber clumsily to his feet, “Sure looked like it.” He held tightly onto Race’s waist once he got him up, careful not to let him fall as he took in the scraped skin on the side of his face from hitting the floor. His furious blush only growing, Race just wanted to feel Spot’s anger. Instead, all he got was a quiet sadness. Usually, Spot would blow up and it would make it easier for him to forget that Race had been hiding something from him but, this time, he just seemed sad.

He helped Race to a nearby bench and lowered him gently to the seat, careful not to hurt him when he sat himself down. There was silence for a while as Spot pulled tissues and wipes and bandages from his school bag, ready to play mum like he did with the other boys the Delanceys went after that he’d taken charge of.

As he dabbed gently at the cuts on Race’s cheek, Spot’s usual anger quickly grew to fill the gaps until he was quite clearly seething. Race refused to look at him as he winced every time the antiseptic wipe touched his open cuts but he could tell that Spot was becoming furious as each time, he pressed a little harder. Eventually, Race yelped and jumped back as Spot took his face and smoothed the wipe heavily over the bleeding wound.

“How long have they been getting at you?” Spot threw the wipe down into his small pile of used ones, pulling tape out of his first aid kit and measuring a small amount to use. He wasn’t stupid, he knew that the Delanceys never dealt with one-off events. That was just how they worked. They always pressured and bullied their victims into submission before they started getting violent; that way, they were too scared to tell anyone and would just endure in silence until Spot found them, bruised and bleeding in an alleyway.

Tilting his face so that Spot could reach more easily, Race shrugged lightly and continued avoiding his gaze, “Oh, not that long.” He knew that he wouldn’t believe him, that would go against everything anyone knew about the Delancey brothers, but he still felt the need to try.

Spot stared at him, not doing anything until Race looked at him tentatively, obviously refusing to accept his lie, “Race.” His eyes burned into the side of Race’s head until he sighed and let his rigid posture slump.

He rubbed carefully at his face, avoiding the scrapes as he blinked to hide his burning eyes. Race turned his cheek again as Spot reached to stick the medical tape to his cuts as he thought about how to answer in a way that would make Spot feel like it wasn’t that long. In the end, however, he just gave up and decided to give him the real answer, “Since we came out.”

Staring at him, shocked, Spot let out a single bark of disbelieving laughter, “Race, we came out three months ago! Why didn’t you tell me?” He dropped his first aid kit, pushing his bag from the bench and pulling Race into his side.

Even though Race hated crying in front of people, he couldn’t stop himself as he felt heavy, ugly sobs breaking through and crossing the silence as he cried into Spot’s shirt, “I don’t know! I don’t know, okay? I didn’t want to be just another one of those kids that you look after. I can stand up for myself!”

Brushing his hand through Race’s hair, Spot pressed a kiss to his scalp as he tried to calm him down, “Race, no one’s going to judge you for needing help. You can’t do everything on your own and that’s okay. No one’s going to think you’re weak when a pair of arseholes are making your life so much harder than it needs to be. I know that you can look after yourself but we’re together, Race, you shouldn’t have to.” When Race looked up, he saw Spot smiling at him sadly and leapt nervously forward to hug him, not wanting to pull away just yet.

“I love you,” Race whispered carefully into Spot’s neck. They’d said it before but it wasn’t something that they said often. After all, Spot wasn’t the kind of person to share his feelings a lot so, when they did say it, Race always initiated it if Spot replied at all.

Spot pressed a kiss to Race’s cheek as he held him tightly against his chest, obviously being careful not to hurt his bruised chest, “I love you, too, Tonio.”

#newsies #newsies fanfiction #fics #rowan writes #rowan writes sprace #sprace #spot/race #spot conlon #racetrack higgins #The Delancey Brothers #Anon #angst

[abedofbones]

The Slayer’s Power & Abilities

The powers that were bestowed upon the Slayer were mostly physical enhancements beyond what any normal human could do, rather than extra abilities garnered from a magical source. It should be noted that while Slayers were physically stronger than most vampires, it was their skill and training that mostly gave them the bigger advantage.The Slayer Powers & Abilities

The powers that were The powers that were bestowed upon the Slayer were mostly physical enhancements beyond what any normal human could do, rather than Buffy trained regularly and worked out to enhance and maintain her abilities, suggesting that they would atrophy otherwise. Giles himself claimed that Buffy should hone her skills day and night.[19] A "normal" workout routine that would enhance a regular human’s strength and speed increased her abilities much faster and at greater magnitude. Also, Giles said muscle relaxants and adrenal inhibitors would have the same effects on a normal human as they did on Buffy; the effects were simply more pronounced (though it’s not specified exactly what was the "organic compound" used in them). Also, regular illnesses such as the flu affected the Slayer not greatly different from its effects on humans; once again the handicap was more noticeable given the Slayer’s usually enhanced abilities (Xander commented that Buffy was "half the Slayer"), though this nearly cost Buffy her life while fighting Angelus.

It appeared that Slayers — much like normal humans — occasionally experienced "off-days" where their powers and fighting ability were not up to its peak. Buffy has fallen victim to this from time to time, mostly due to her emotions affecting her. When Buffy started college, she was easily beaten by a vampire, Sunday, not much stronger or older than her typical share. It was implied that this was due to Buffy struggling with the transition to college and loneliness. When she reunited with her friends and started to perk up, Buffy’s powers seemed to improve as her arm that was badly injured the previous night completely recovered by mid-battle.

It is possible that a Slayer’s strength, healing, and endurance improved the longer she’d been called. Faith was severely injured and put into a coma from being stabbed in the stomach when she was only a Slayer for one year at that point, whereas Buffy could quickly recover from a similar wound without any need for medical attention after being a Slayer for seven years. In another instance, Buffy was plunged into a stone coffin and hit by a conical roof and still continued to fight. Buffy ended up with only minor cuts and bruises later that day, yet Satsu (a younger Slayer) was hospitalized for a lesser injury. Faith, along with a group of new Slayers, were struck with a magical attack from a demon. While the younger Slayers’ faces started melting off, Faith resisted the attack with lesser injuries and even fought back.

Strength

Slayers were endowed with increased physical strength greater than that of any humans, some demons and most, if not all, vampires.

Slayers were capable of lifting and throwing human-sized subjects sizable distances, propelling enemies into the air with a single blow, bending solid metal with their bare hands, breaking human bones with ease, and punching into concrete walls to no ill effect.

Buffy herself has heaved up a metal portcullis which a group of people were unable to budge, snapped a metal blade in half over her knee,[48] punched through a demon’s chest, hurled a piece of glass with enough force that it severed a person’s arm, effortlessly lifted steel girders weighing several hundred pounds, demolished the interior of an abandoned building from having rough sex, and accidentally kicked Riley clear across a room even though she "held back a little”.

Much like vampires, the Slayer’s strength seemed to be largely metaphysical, as it did not add to their body mass and they remained buoyant enough to swim. Buffy and Faith, who were of relatively slender build, have performed great feats of physical strength without any apparent added muscle mass.

One example of a Slayer being stronger than most vampires was when Buffy easily lifted Olaf the Troll God's Enchanted Hammer with one hand when Spike was barely able to do so with both hands. Angel remarked that Buffy was "a little bit stronger" than he was, though the humorous tenor of the exchange suggests he may have been understating the difference, indicating that a Slayer was stronger than vampires aged 200 plus years.

It appeared that Slayers were able to access even greater levels of strength when upset or angry; for example, during her first battle with Angelus, Buffy was initially outmatched until Angelus went too far with his taunts and insults, after which she snapped and beat him into submission.Additionally, Faith quickly overpowered the more-experienced Buffy and nearly drown her in a swimming pool during a fit of rage.

Speed and Reflexes

Slayers had the ability to move at great speeds and possessed incredible reflexes. For instance, Buffy prevented a crowbar hurled forcefully by the goddess Glorificus from killing Dawn by leaping in her way and catching the crowbar, resulting in only a shallow wound from being pierced by the implement.

In addition to this, Buffy has snatched a crossbow bolt in mid-flight, blocked a sword with her hands (her eyes were closed at the time) just as it was thrust towards her face, caught/deflected/dodged knives thrown at her from varying distances, dodged gunfire from multiple ranges, and set off a bear trap without getting caught in it.  Faith has dodged shotgun blasts at point-blank range, while Dana could dodge a tranquilizer dart also fired at point-blank range.

The Slayer’s running speed was also quite impressive. Buffy, for example, was able to run fast enough to keep up with a school bus going at full speed. The bus had already taken off before she caught up to it and she was still recovering from a deep abdominal stab wound she got only minutes before. She also could outrun a raiding motorcyclist on his bike shortly after her resurrection, outrun a fireball, and was able to reach the police station to save Andrew Wells and Jonathan Levinson on foot shortly after Willow Rosenberg reached there via flight.

Agility

A Slayer was capable of superhuman feats of agility. She could leap to great heights and distances; though the maximum is unknown. Buffy was capable of reaching the roof of the original Sunnydale High School in a very short period of time, after running up a sloping rail, and then flipping onto the roof.

Buffy once utilized her agility and speed to avoid Caleb’s attacks which caused him a noticeable amount of frustration. She has also made standing jumps over the heads of foes much larger than her; including the Master and a troll, and performed improbable mid-air kicks.

Melaka was seen reaching a roof top by leaping across multiple flying cars, something Buffy claimed she couldn’t do herself. However, Buffy was seen leaping from building to building months later. A Slayer’s agility could work unconsciously. An amnesiac Buffy was flipped over by a vampire and landed perfectly on her feet much to her own surprise.

Durability

A Slayer’s body was substantially more durable and resistant to blunt force trauma than an ordinary human’s. Slayers also had several times the endurance of a common human, so it was difficult, though not impossible, to bruise them, break their bones or strain their joints.

Buffy could leap from a two-story window with a man in her arms, landing on the ground and letting her body take the brunt of the fall. Buffy was already tanking powerful blows from Glory minutes before.

Buffy looked relatively unfazed after she had a vase smashed over her head by Tucker Wells.

Buffy has been hit by a moving car, got up and walked off, ignoring the several bystanders who offered to help.

Buffy appeared only to sustain some minor damage after being shot by a high-voltage blast from the Initiative’s taser blasters. While normal human beings and even demons were shown to become incapacitated, and require time to recuperate afterward, Buffy was fit enough to escape.

Buffy has survived contact with a live electrical wire; the normally lethal jolt simply melted her shoe soles.

Faith has fallen from a height of three stories on top of a closed dumpster, rolled off it to hit the ground and got up immediately with no signs of damage; she also could hold her own in a fight with Buffy less than 24 hours after waking from a nine-month coma without suffering any muscle atrophy — a coma which she entered after surviving a deep stab wound to the abdomen immediately followed by a fall from the top of a multi-story building into a moving truck. Also, in an attempt by the Watcher’s Council to capture Faith without killing her, they prepared a tranquilizer that was capable of knocking out a man twice her size which is more than enough to subdue an ordinary young woman of her size.

Faith crashed through a window with Wesley in hand and landed on a car. The car’s roof was severely damaged, yet Faith was unharmed.

Despite these feats, the Slayer was far from invulnerable. For instance, Buffy has been knocked out by blunt force trauma, such as being hit over the head with a lead pipe by a possessed Cordelia Chase and with a detached mannequin arm by Ethan Rayne, and rendered unconscious when Drusilla jabbed her with a cattle prod, (it should be noted that it took two jolts from the cattle prod to knock her out). In addition, the Slayer could be injured by conventional bullets, bladed weapons, and more advanced weaponry just as easily as an ordinary human can. Slayers were also susceptible to drugs, mystical or otherwise; Buffy has fallen unconscious to chloroform and rohypnol (though the latter appeared to take longer as Cordelia was already long out by the time Buffy succumbed to its effects).Slayers could also be inebriated which affected their fighting technique or their ability to control their strength. Faith was able to inject herself with a drug and fight long enough to fool Angelus into biting her.

Healing

Slayers could recover from even very severe injuries in remarkably short periods of time.

Buffy has suffered from a sprained arm as a consequence of fighting vampires, but seemingly healed mid-fight. Despite the injury taking a toll on her fighting and her injured arm being twisted once more, Buffy still could punch a vampire in the face, sending it flying, without any problems later.

Melaka Fray was hit with a steel girder thrown at her from a demon and recovered within minutes; she also fell from a height of over five stories to land face-first on a cement sidewalk and be only dazed before fully recovering in moments, and at a later time, to fall four stories down, crash through the cement roof of an adjacent building and fall down the height of one more story, and recover instantly. 

Buffy was hospitalized with a high-grade fever, some bone fractures and an injured arm. She was completely healed of her injuries the next morning with no signs of swelling (to the doctor’s surprise) and was relieved of her fever the morning after that. 

Despite being closest to the bomb,  Faith survived an explosion that caused an entire sewer tunnel to cave-in, killing several potential slayers in the process. Although she was severely wounded and weakened, Faith was ready to fight Turok-Han vampires after about a day of rest. 

Slayers also seem to recover quickly from blood loss: Buffy was almost completely drained of blood by Angel, but recovered in time to be able to lead the Graduation Day battle in the same day.  Usually, Buffy was completely healed within 24 hours of being injured, though more serious injuries have taken at least a few days; Buffy suffered from a severe stab wound to the belly that required at least a few days to heal, and, according to Vi, was heavily bruised for several days after her second encounter with the Turok-Han.  Also, the Slayer could receive scars; Buffy had a scar left from the Master’s bite on her neck, though Angel and Dracula have also bitten her in the exact same spot.

Stamina

Slayers possessed great stamina. Buffy claimed she had the endurance of ten men and that it took a lot to wear her out when Riley propositioned her for sex immediately after the two already finished having sweating-inducing intercourse.

Faith underwent an intense physical evaluation that involved a lot of running and reflex training. She showed no signs of tiredness or exhaustion following a training session at the obstacle field while her Watcher, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, was still winded and even claimed he was going to need defibrillators to recover. Since Faith was the one being evaluated, she would have had to do more physical activity than he did.

Buffy managed to stay at pace with an airborne Willow on foot while Xander (a physically fit male of the same age) could hardly keep up and was seen heavily panting and sweating at the end. Buffy was totally fine.

Senses

Slayers possessed a heightened awareness of their surroundings. This heightened awareness could, with experience, allow the Slayer to know the position of an attacker and fight them blindfolded or in the dark.

Buffy pinpointed the position of invisible Marcie Ross by standing silently for a few seconds to hear her movements before landing a perfect punch. 

Buffy sensed a trio of invisible demons quietly entering the room before hearing a faint growl that alerted her to the presence of the demon standing behind her just in time to turn around and block it’s attack. The demons were silent enough to sneak past Buffy’s friends inches away from them unnoticed. She later ordered her fellow Scoobies to be quiet in order for her to sense the position of the other demons during the ambush.

Giles once required Buffy to throw a ball at him after being spun around in order to test her awareness of her opponent’s location during fights in total darkness. Despite initially missing him when throwing the ball, the ball bounced off the wall she threw it at and landed on him.

Buffy dispatched an axe-wielding Watcher while blind-folded, relying entirely on instinct when she found the orders given to her in Japanese too complicated.

Buffy easily dispatched the Trio when they were invisible (and as she was invisible herself).

While confronting Buffy for the first time after her coma, Faith sensed Willow sneaking up behind her to hit her, and warned her, without even looking her way: “Try it, Red, and you lose an arm.”

Faith turned around in time to prevent a hired assassin from striking her from behind as she was doing chin-ups.

According to Giles, the Slayer had the potential to sense a vampire’s presence within the area. This skill must be honed through practice and the Slayer usually must focus to achieve the full benefit. This was not a constant ability, however. Buffy has never appeared to really hone in on this ability as she confused a couple of human thugs as vampires one time.Buffy also didn’t know Angel was a vampire until he revealed his demonic visage after a number of encounters with him (the same with vampire Willow),but did sense his presence when he was secretly following her. Additionally, Buffy briefly paused to scan the area around her with a look of uncertainty as Angel watched her from behind the bushes, possibly sensing him but unsure of what it was. She also sensed the presence of the Three when they stalked her.

Dreams

All Slayers through the ages shares a psychic link, manifested in dreams.

A Slayer would frequently dream of herself as a Slayer in another time and place, even before being called, which would hint if they were Potential Slayers. They could also experience prophetic dreams related to upcoming crises.

Dreams existed in their own mystic plane or "dream space" where, for a Slayer, precognitive sense and the inherited memories of other Slayers could manifest themselves. One consequence of this power was that a Slayer has essentially fought all the battles of the Slayers before her. These experiences helped hone their skills and aid them in future battles.Also, activated Slayers have appeared in each other’s dreams, as Buffy and Faith shared several dreams when Faith was in a coma. Faith provided the first cryptic reference to Dawn Summers’ arrival.

Melaka Fray, a Slayer of the 23rd century, lacked these abilities, which caused her to be unaware of her status, as well as have a different fighting style than most Slayers. Her twin brother, Harth, received these visions instead. To the best of her temporary mentor Urkonn of the D'Avvrus’ knowledge, it was unheard of for a Slayer to have a twin before.

Fighting skills

A Slayer naturally had formidable fighting abilities. Buffy easily fended off multiple vampires at the same time while under a memory loss spell, with no memory of her combat training — relying entirely on her natural Slayer instincts (this could be attributed to muscle memory though). Dana was also seen holding her own against Spike without having any previous combat training.

The Slayer’s Watcher trained her to hone these talents, and to teach her specific combat practices, such as various martial arts. This training helped her to battle the occasional demon whose physical strength outclassed her own. For most situations, however, her strength sufficed.

Her fighting prowess also appeared to extend to her weapon proficiency. When Giles trained Buffy to spar with a quarter staff for the first time, she easily outmaneuverd him. Despite his initial insistence that he would teach her how to use a crossbow in steady time after mastering the quarter staff which needed "countless hours of vigorous training", he quickly decided that Buffy was now ready after she bested him.The same principle appeared to also apply to accuracy with firearms. Faith was able to head-shoot vampires after only recently learning how to shoot.

Potential Slayers had innate ability in combat, even before being called, as Amanda was able to defeat a vampire and ward off a couple of Bringers without any previous combat training.

The Slayer’s fighting talent can likely be attributed to their dreams of past Slayers. When Buffy fought Melaka who had currently the advantage, Buffy managed to overcome this because she had "dreamed every battle a Slayer’s ever fought" and Melaka hadn’t because she lacked the Slayer’s psychic abilities.

Other abilities

Sometime after establishing the Slayer Organization, Buffy gained a multitude of new powers: her strength, speed, agility, and reflexes were greatly enhanced, and she developed telescopic vision, superhuman hearing, flight, and a level of invulnerability. Willow initially theorized that these powers were a result of Buffy unwittingly absorbing the collective powers of all of the Slayers who had died since they began the Slayer Organization, but it was later discovered that these abilities were granted to her by the Universe as a reward for changing the world and the balance of the grand design. However, Buffy lost these new powers when she destroyed the Seed of Wonder.

Blood

The blood of the Slayer could be consumed by vampires to either strengthen themselves or to cure affliction. For instance, the Master used Buffy’s blood to break himself free from his mystical prison. Buffy also used her blood to cure Angel from the Killer of the Dead — Slayer’s blood being the only cure.Slayer’s blood was also considered a powerful aphrodisiac.

It was briefly mentioned by Willow to Anya about Slayers all having the same blood, Dawn having been originally the Key, turned human from Buffy’s blood, in the end wasn’t gifted Slayer powers.

Weapons and equipment

Slayers typically used weapons to fight vampires and other demons. Simple wooden stakes, crosses, and holy water were common components to a Slayer’s inventory due to their effectiveness against vampires, though Buffy would usually only be seen armed with nothing but a stake during patrols because her physical power was enough to subdue them. Swords, axes, and knives were also the most common implements used for dispatching demons, though other melee weapons (generally of medieval European design) were also used. Ranged weaponry was usually confined to crossbows.

On occasion, more sophisticated weaponry was used; Buffy Summers used a military-issue rocket launcher to defeat the Judge.[54] Buffy had a strong distaste for guns, and one of the rules of her Slayer Organization was that no Slayer used them. Rogue Slayer Simone Doffler and her group, on the other hand, were enamored of guns.

The Slayer Melaka Fray used weaponry native to her time period, such as rayguns, as well as traditional Slayer weapons.

Scythe

The Scythe was a magical weapon forged by the Guardians to help the First Slayer kill the last of the Old Ones, on the site of what would eventually become Sunnydale. The Last Guardian passed the Scythe on to Buffy Summers in 2003. She used it to activate every Potential Slayer in the world, and it became a prominent weapon in her arsenal ever since. In the 23rd century, the Scythe was passed onto Melaka Fray.

Slayer Emergency Kit

The Slayer Emergency Kit was, according to Robin Wood, a Slayer heirloom which should have been passed on to the next Slayer, but he kept it, probably because he didn’t have much to remember his mother by. At the time Buffy received it, the brown leather bag contained several things including the following:

what appeared to be a boomerang;

a vase or urn of some kind;

a locked box containing metal shadow casters;

the shadow caster manual.

These objects, when used, recreated the story of the first Slayer, and opened a portal that allowed the current Slayer to speak directly to the Shadow Men.

Slayer Handbook

The Slayer Handbook, also known as Vampyr, was a manual given to Slayers by their Watchers to instruct them on how to operate as the Slayer.The book was the very first and most complete attempt by man to record and codify the laws of magic. Initially a study of vampires — the most pressing threat — its scope grew over time, as did the book’s power. It became, by common acceptance, the definitive guide to magic on Earth.

Giles had presented it to Buffy Summers when she first arrived in Sunnydale, but then decided she wasn’t one to follow rules and put the book away. Sam Zabuto, Kendra Young’s watcher, owned himself a copy. According to Kendra, the handbook insisted that Slayers study demonology. After Giles’ death, despite Faith Lehane was his main heiress, he left the book for Buffy. With this gesture, Faith said Giles meant that Buffy was the one true Slayer and he believed in her strength.

After the new Seed of Wonder was formed, the Slayer Handbook’s pages had turned completely blank. With the sudden return of magic to the Earth, the book was being gradually rewritten, both following common sense and rules written by anyone in its pages. Despite the interest of many creatures in taking the book to themselves, Buffy was the book’s owner, eventually accepted and learned the responsibility of understand, negotiate, develop, protect, and control the rules of magic.

Slaypire

Slayers were capable of being sired into vampires just as ordinary humans were. The resulting "Slaypire" would have the combined strengths of both vampires and Slayers, but retain vampiric weaknesses.

Because the creation of a Slaypire involves a Slayer’s death, it also called a new Slayer. This means that there has been at least one incident — Yuki Makimura — where there were two Slayers before Buffy and Kendra’s time. However, as one was a vampire and no longer a true Slayer, Buffy and Kendra arguably maintain their status as the first two contemporaneous Slayers.

[party-hard-or-die]

For high-stakes summit with Kim, Trump trusts his gut over note cards

WASHINGTON (Reuters) – U.S. President Donald Trump will deploy a mix of charm and pressure to coax North Korean leader Kim Jong Un into a deal to give up nuclear weapons, trusting his gut instinct over briefing books in his ability to strike an accord, aides and former administration officials said.

FILE PHOTO: A combination photo shows U.S. President Donald Trump and North Korea leader Kim Jong Un in Washignton, DC, U.S. May 17, 2018 and in Panmunjom, South Korea, April 27, 2018 respectively. REUTERS/Kevin Lamarque and Korea Summit Press Pool/File Photos

Kim, who at 34 is nearly half Trump’s age, will get a concentrated blast of what friends and foes of Trump have experienced since he became president: a volatile, unpredictable leader who can be at turns friendly or tough, or both at the same time.

The June 12 summit in Singapore will be the first face-to-face meeting between Trump, the former reality TV star who likes to keep people guessing up to a cliffhanger finish, and Kim, the heir to a reclusive dynasty with a history of reneging on promises to curb its nuclear ambitions.

While Trump has received a steady diet of briefings, verbal and written, about what to expect when he meets Kim, he trusts his intuition more than anything else, aides and former officials said.

His briefings have covered the gamut from Kim’s family history, the history of broken agreements with Pyongyang and the status of the North’s nuclear and missile programs, one source familiar with the matter said.

Aides expect Trump to try to use a personal touch to try build trust with Kim. The two leaders have done much to improve their relations after hurling insults and threats at each other such as who has the bigger nuclear button.

In his decades as a businessman before entering the White House 18 months ago, Trump did many deals and can bring different skills and techniques to negotiations, one source close to the president said.

“But it’s very ‘gut,’ which people are not used to in the diplomatic world because people are used to reading note cards,” said the source, who spoke on condition of anonymity.

Critics contend that Trump’s seat-of-the-pants approach may be too risky in dealing with North Korea, which alarmed Washington with its rapid advances on a long-range missile possibly capable of hitting the United States.

‘IT’S ABOUT ATTITUDE’

Trump has said his meeting with Kim is a get-to-know-you session and could be the first of several aimed at getting North Korea to scrap its nuclear arsenal.

Trump is preparing for the summit and taking it very seriously, said a senior White House official who asked not to be identified, “but locking himself away and doing what’s been done in the past clearly hasn’t worked.”

U.S. President Donald Trump listens to a question while meeting with Japanese Prime Minister Shinzo Abe in the Oval Office of the White House in Washington, U.S., June 7, 2018. REUTERS/Kevin Lamarque?

Trump himself said on Thursday that he did not think he had to prepare very much and that “it’s about attitude. It’s about willingness to get things done.”

Other U.S. officials have questioned whether Trump is doing enough to get up to speed.

U.S. Secretary of State Mike Pompeo came back from meeting Kim in Pyongyang to describe the North Korean leader as “a smart guy who’s doing his homework” for the summit, according to one U.S. official familiar with the matter.

However, the senior White House official pointed to Trump’s relationship with Chinese President Xi Jinping as a sign of how he might deal with Kim: Trump frequently talks about how close he is to Xi, but this has not stopped him from talking tough on trade with Xi.

One former senior administration official who has watched Trump engage with world leaders said he has not had a consistent method in diplomatic dealings, describing him as “kind of all over the map” at times hectoring, at others friendly.

On Thursday, Trump dangled the prospect of inviting Kim Jong Un to the White House if he deemed the summit a success while also signaling he was willing to walk away if he thought talks did not go well.

Trump goes to Singapore confident in his deal-making skills based on his career as a New York real estate developer, which made him a billionaire.

His negotiating skills as president have had mixed success: his attempt to negotiate a healthcare deal with lawmakers fell apart last year, but then he was able to get tax-cut bill through Congress.

On the foreign policy front, his hardline stance on China to cut its massive trade surplus with the United States has risked a trade war, while talks to overhaul the North American Free Trade Agreement have stumbled badly.

But that is not likely to deter Trump from his negotiating style.

“I think he wants to go big or go home,” said Michael Allen, a former National Security Council official under Republican President George W. Bush.

Reporting by Steve Holland; additional reporting by Matt Spetalnick, David Brunnstrom and John Walcott; Editing by Mary Milliken and Grant McCool

The post For high-stakes summit with Kim, Trump trusts his gut over note cards appeared first on World The News.

from World The News https://ift.tt/2Jm5xAD via Breaking News

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[newestbalance]

For high-stakes summit with Kim, Trump trusts his gut over note cards

WASHINGTON (Reuters) – U.S. President Donald Trump will deploy a mix of charm and pressure to coax North Korean leader Kim Jong Un into a deal to give up nuclear weapons, trusting his gut instinct over briefing books in his ability to strike an accord, aides and former administration officials said.

FILE PHOTO: A combination photo shows U.S. President Donald Trump and North Korea leader Kim Jong Un in Washignton, DC, U.S. May 17, 2018 and in Panmunjom, South Korea, April 27, 2018 respectively. REUTERS/Kevin Lamarque and Korea Summit Press Pool/File Photos

Kim, who at 34 is nearly half Trump’s age, will get a concentrated blast of what friends and foes of Trump have experienced since he became president: a volatile, unpredictable leader who can be at turns friendly or tough, or both at the same time.

The June 12 summit in Singapore will be the first face-to-face meeting between Trump, the former reality TV star who likes to keep people guessing up to a cliffhanger finish, and Kim, the heir to a reclusive dynasty with a history of reneging on promises to curb its nuclear ambitions.

While Trump has received a steady diet of briefings, verbal and written, about what to expect when he meets Kim, he trusts his intuition more than anything else, aides and former officials said.

His briefings have covered the gamut from Kim’s family history, the history of broken agreements with Pyongyang and the status of the North’s nuclear and missile programs, one source familiar with the matter said.

Aides expect Trump to try to use a personal touch to try build trust with Kim. The two leaders have done much to improve their relations after hurling insults and threats at each other such as who has the bigger nuclear button.

In his decades as a businessman before entering the White House 18 months ago, Trump did many deals and can bring different skills and techniques to negotiations, one source close to the president said.

“But it’s very ‘gut,’ which people are not used to in the diplomatic world because people are used to reading note cards,” said the source, who spoke on condition of anonymity.

Critics contend that Trump’s seat-of-the-pants approach may be too risky in dealing with North Korea, which alarmed Washington with its rapid advances on a long-range missile possibly capable of hitting the United States.

‘IT’S ABOUT ATTITUDE’

Trump has said his meeting with Kim is a get-to-know-you session and could be the first of several aimed at getting North Korea to scrap its nuclear arsenal.

Trump is preparing for the summit and taking it very seriously, said a senior White House official who asked not to be identified, “but locking himself away and doing what’s been done in the past clearly hasn’t worked.”

U.S. President Donald Trump listens to a question while meeting with Japanese Prime Minister Shinzo Abe in the Oval Office of the White House in Washington, U.S., June 7, 2018. REUTERS/Kevin Lamarque?

Trump himself said on Thursday that he did not think he had to prepare very much and that “it’s about attitude. It’s about willingness to get things done.”

Other U.S. officials have questioned whether Trump is doing enough to get up to speed.

U.S. Secretary of State Mike Pompeo came back from meeting Kim in Pyongyang to describe the North Korean leader as “a smart guy who’s doing his homework” for the summit, according to one U.S. official familiar with the matter.

However, the senior White House official pointed to Trump’s relationship with Chinese President Xi Jinping as a sign of how he might deal with Kim: Trump frequently talks about how close he is to Xi, but this has not stopped him from talking tough on trade with Xi.

One former senior administration official who has watched Trump engage with world leaders said he has not had a consistent method in diplomatic dealings, describing him as “kind of all over the map” at times hectoring, at others friendly.

On Thursday, Trump dangled the prospect of inviting Kim Jong Un to the White House if he deemed the summit a success while also signaling he was willing to walk away if he thought talks did not go well.

Trump goes to Singapore confident in his deal-making skills based on his career as a New York real estate developer, which made him a billionaire.

His negotiating skills as president have had mixed success: his attempt to negotiate a healthcare deal with lawmakers fell apart last year, but then he was able to get tax-cut bill through Congress.

On the foreign policy front, his hardline stance on China to cut its massive trade surplus with the United States has risked a trade war, while talks to overhaul the North American Free Trade Agreement have stumbled badly.

But that is not likely to deter Trump from his negotiating style.

“I think he wants to go big or go home,” said Michael Allen, a former National Security Council official under Republican President George W. Bush.

Reporting by Steve Holland; additional reporting by Matt Spetalnick, David Brunnstrom and John Walcott; Editing by Mary Milliken and Grant McCool

The post For high-stakes summit with Kim, Trump trusts his gut over note cards appeared first on World The News.

from World The News https://ift.tt/2Jm5xAD via Everyday News

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