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soaringpigeonshovel · 4 months

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Obito-lives-instead-of-Kakashi AUs are great and all but I'd like to remind everyone that this team was a TRIO of kids. Therefore, considering Obito saved his buddy (Kakashi) and then asked him to protect his poor little meow meow (Rin):

Rin would save her buddy (Obito) and then ask him to protect her poor little meow meow (Kakashi).

While Kakashi would save his buddy (Rin) and then ask her to protect his poor little idiot meow meow (Obito).

Rin meeting Madara would be fascinating. Madara would want to manipulate her into getting Obito to help him, or at least be bait, right? But no way would Rin even consider his shit until she sees Kakashi rip out his own heart out in front of Obito. She'd realize that Obito is the target. Her best, last, only friend. Loyalty to the village took Kakashi away from her—she is not losing Obito. And definitely not in a situation where it would be her fault again. She'd have one bargaining chip: she's the Tony Stark of medicine (a magic eye transplant! in a cave! with a box of scraps!) and Madara hasn't seen a medical professional since the founding of Konoha. She can't heal him or anything (absolutely not, that would take away from her badass villainous screentime) but she can keep him in a near-immortal vegetative state, enough for him to keep the Rinnegan, maybe pop his head up/get Zetsu'd during emergencies, and not even need resurrecting in the future. In return for helping Madara brainwash the world, of course. Intrigued—and also Obito just unlocked his Mangekyou and obliterated everything in the vicinity and then vanished, so he's out of reach for now—Madara takes the deal.

Kakashi meeting Madara would be a lot different, however, because we're only changing the rocks-fall-somebody-dies scene. Kakashi's already had his Turning Point Moment with Obito. Even when he sees Obito kill himself, he's jammed in friends-first mode and there isn't a crowbar in the world big enough to wedge him out of it. Obito killing himself to avoid capture would just cement it. So instead we say that Hatake blood, a little like Uzumaki blood, is special—it allows them to survive things like Sharingan transplants. So, through kinjutsus and Zetsus and whatever else he could cobble together, Madara flat-out forces Kakashi to be the enacter of his plan. After all Kakashi has always been a weapon, first and foremost, his own soul set aside. It's really just more of the same.

These work for the final battle, especially. In canon, Kakashi is all about legacy and the parts of himself which is made of other people. Obito, original owner of his eye and most of his philosophy, is therefore the perfect foil. (And Naruto, who is strengthened by that same legacy but not strangled by it, is the hero.)

Rin would be a villain in the same vein as Sasori. She's been puppeting Madara's almost-corpse around, a nightmarish necromancer and her pet zombie. But conversely, Madara has also been puppeting her through their deal. She works as a foil because Obito wants to be (or is?) Hokage, puppetmaster of Konoha, and the Uchiha (mostly alive, probably) want to puppet Obito on the throne. It's all about control. (And Naruto, who wants to be Hokage too but is free and upright and has thrown off his shackles, is the hero.)

Kakashi as a foil would build on the body-horror from Danzo's fight. He'd have Madara's Rinnegan, Obito's Mangekyou, other Sharingan in Hashirama's body parts, bits of Zetsu grafted on, cursed seals on his heart and neck and spine, tailed beast parts if available, and whatever else anyone could find. It's the opposite of Rin, medicine used to harm instead of heal. It would be about the failure, and the damage caused by a self-centred saviour. (And Naruto, who was failed but saved others, the selfless helping hand, is the hero.)

#*me waving my hands in the air* do you See the Vision #ough if only I could draw #kakashi #rin #obito #team minato #Kannabi-Swap AU #naruto

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willowmvp · 5 months

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First off, amazing storytelling as usual. I'm not fond of the end personally, but that doesn't mean it still wasn't a great tale.

I'd like to know about the other story ideas you had for pirate Will before he got royally stoned.

Totally understandable. I'm not fond of making my characters come to a final halt myself, but for the sake of storytelling, it really felt right. It wasn't a good ending, but it made for a good story, and sometimes that's more important than keeping my characters happy.

Speaking of story ideas... There was an entire story arc that I originally wanted to do where p!Will would have become a MUCH different character. I had an idea of p!Will deciding that the Nightingales weren't truly his family, his real family was lost at sea, far away and with no way to reach any of them. Not Caer, not his father, and certainly not his mother. Would he even consider the Captain as an extension of his family? I had quotes lined up as possible lines to drop, really push the friendship p!Will had with Caer and then to have him completely betray the "family" he has now with p!Graecie and p!Apo and everyone else. He'd want to make something of himself, be more known, be SOMETHING unlike his father who would spend his life on the Luscinia and never more than that. So, he'd join the Herons. Make a legacy. Really leave a mark. It would've made him more hardened of a character, less friendly to everyone, likely becoming almost cold and dismissive of other people's feelings in exchange for discovering treasures and places, something that would consume him and ultimately probably get him killed. It wouldn't be a BETTER ending, but it would've been SUCH a different story!

I also had a thought of making Caer and p!Will's relationship more romantic instead of platonic, but that's just me being gay as hell and wanting to make a story where I get to kiss men. Imagine they reunite years later? After growing up a little more and learning more about the world? They'd be an unstoppable force, the pair of them, an absolute whirlwind but GOD the pirating would be so good. Unfortunately I couldn't see a good way to make that into a story with how we were set up for Pirates, which is why it got scrapped.

There were a few other story beats I had floating around in my head, some sort of fight with p!Graecie that they'd have to make up for, maybe a betrayal of another person from a different faction, causing an even bigger rift between the Nightingales and another faction. Maybe he'd have a brush with death that makes him really think about his life and what he wanted to do with it, which honestly could've tied into the Heron storyline detailed above.

#willowmvp #p!will #pirates smp #scurvyblr #piratessmp

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overwatch-does-stuff · 2 years

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📕

"Wadjet"

HOO BOY I've had this one in my brain for a while. It's inspired by Ana's post-apocalyptic skins, "Wadjet" and "Wasteland". It's basically, "What if Ana knew Junkrat and Roadhog?"

The fic would have two timelines that it would flash back and forth between-

A past timeline that takes place fresh after Ana was forced to fake her death. She's chasing odd jobs around the world as the bounty hunter "Shrike", trying to make a name for herself. A lead convinces her to travel to the remote Australian wastes, only to ghost her and leave her stranded in Junkertown with not a single penny to her name. She finds herself having to beg for scraps among these ruffians that she can barely call people, until one day, a large man comes up to her and offers her work and a place to stay. The cost? To help him find the misty gold substance that he needs to stay alive, and to watch over his partner, a skinny little loud-mouth who gets into way too much trouble.

A current timeline that takes place in the newly reformed Overwatch. Ana is a strike team leader and her team has been assigned to track down a pair of criminals that have been on a major spree for the past year and a half. Her team corners the suspects in a shipping yard, but something about their voices seems familiar. Very familiar. And thus, she offers for the Junkers a choice: get turned into prison. . . or join Overwatch.

Basically it'd be a combo fic of my headcanons for Roadhog and Junkrat backstories slammed in with my egregiously out-of-character redemption arcs for the both of them, as Ana welcomes them back into her life and tries to reconnect with them, much to the utter bafflement of everyone else in Overwatch. You'd have silly moments of Ana joining in on the Junker shenanigans. You'd have the somber moments of Roadhog and Ana's sharing of their respective life tragedies. You'd have the angst of Roadhog not wanting to become part of a bigger organization again and you'd have the angst of Junkrat being treated nicely for the first time in like, ever. And through it all, you have Ana's reflections on her life and her legacy, wondering if she's doing the right thing for both Overwatch and the Junkers.

Ultimately, it would end when Roadhog and Junkrat become full-fledged members of the new Overwatch, completing their transition from selfish criminals to people willing to fight to protect their friends. Cheesy, I know, but I already warned you this fic wasn't in character.

#overwatch #overwatch ana #overwatch roadhog #overwatch junkrat #junkrat #roadhog #oh and there'd definitely be roadrat in this fic if you squinted #this fic would basically be my attempt to make the junkers interesting lol #it would also be a character study fic for Ana #you can see why I haven't written it- it's a LOT

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palidan-sheep · 1 year

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So far I’ve got one legacy run under my belt and a second on the way but with the scrapped featureds of having companions and possible romance options, I wanted through my two cents in on the latter of the two. Ignore any spelling mistakes, it’s 1am and if I do not get this out of my head I will not be able to sleep.

Sometimes I’m glad the game left a lot of personality out of the main characters while also leaving just enough to build upon it. Their speech and actions mainly.

Heads up- ✨Spoilers ahead✨ while I try and remain vague about some important stuff that happens in Sebastian’s and Poppy’s story’s, they still allude and if not give away what happened for the sake of making things make sense. Ready at your own will🫡

My first run was Hufflepuff with my Oc Evelyn Rogers.

Despite being fiercely loyal to those she had befriended and helped, the thought of romancing someone hadn’t occurred to her. She was too focused on her rather abrupt goal of taking down Ranrok and following the keepers footsteps to even entertain the idea of pursuing anything else.

Despite the playful tongue and sometimes jealous remarks of her Slythieran friend, Sebastian Sallow, she hadn’t thought to form a deeper connection with him, not whilst the weight of the world weighed on her shoulders.

Sebastian could see this and while it hurt him, he knew he was no different. His own search for a cure for Anne often clouded his own ability to live and made him push asides the idea of doing anything else with his life.

At the end of the story, after spells had been cast and beings killed, the two were left feeling rather empty. Their drives of life, their reasons to fight and read and explore were gone.

It was difficult for Evelyn to look Sebastian in the eyes, she often felt like he should’ve been sent away for his crime but she couldn’t help but to think of all the blood on her own hands. The countless goblins and poachers who stood in her way, now nothing but meer ashes and lifeless corpses strewn across the ground.

She was just as guilt as he was.

And at the end of the day, they were the only ones who could ever understand what the other was going through. So perhaps not out of love but the sense of stability, the ability to feel something other then guilt, to have a shoulder to cry on, the two entwined their bloody hands and refused to look back.

Rather depressing, I know. Perhaps it’s not a health reason to get with someone but it’s realistic.

Our character is a 15/16 yo who was thrusted into this world of magic and murder and mayhem. They are alone in understanding what is at stake and those who possessed this power are from other time. So it’s realistic that my Mc would cling onto something who could show the slightest hint or knowing what they were going though.

Legacy has shown us that they aren’t afraid of telling tales with no happy ending for the record, and honestly? Good on them. It makes the game feel more realistic if you can’t save everyone and some things are just out of your reach.

But on my current play though. It’s an entirely different story!

Orian Gwynedd was a rather normal Slythieran. When the keepers thrusted upon him the fact that he was different, he was more powerful then others, it felt like something clicked in him. Whilst not totally power hungry, the thought of being possible the most powerful wizard in the world drove him to pursue the trials and their secrets and take down Ranrok so no one could threaten his power.

And up until Beast’s class, that’s all he cared about.

Then he met Poppy Sweeting.

While Poppy most definitely can her hold own in a fight, Orion felt an overbearing sense of care for the girl. Every waking moment he spent was now divided up between fighting against Ranrok and now worrying and wondering about Poppy.

He was never able to hide his feelings for her, always talking about her and expressing concern over her actions and whereabouts.

The day they busted the dragon fighting ring is a day he’ll never forget. When they stood before the dragon, when their eyes connected, when face with what felt like death, Poppy smiled. She smiled against the face of death and Orion just knew at that very moment, it was sealed.

Unfortunately, Poppy was none the more wiser to Orions infatuation with her. Often chalking up the various gifts and treats Orion gave her as gifts of friendship and mild affection, like a beast allowing their rescuers of harvest their fur or whiskers.

But as time passed, Poppy began to connect the pieces. And it was strange. At first she wanted to kindly let him down, to swayed him off of the idea of the two forming a deeper relationship, terrified that her lack of social skills and human connections would damage what he felt for her.

Thankfully, her adventures and traversing the valley helped her to articulate and work on her social skills and ability to make friends. Something that even Professor Weasley would note.

They two had built up so much trust between each other that it finally felt like the right time to explain one’s life story. How one was attempting to fix all their family’s wrong doings and another was fighting tooth and nail to, now, save the world rather then acquire power.

But despite this it still took some years before Poppy reciprocated the same feeling back to Orion. She had confided to him that while she wanted to get closer to him, she wanted to work on herself first. Orion promised to always be there for her and kept true to his word when she confessed to him, again.

A but more light hearted then the other pair but my first play though I put a lot more of myself into the game and took it very ‘seriously’. So I think some light hearted-ness is need.

Not to mention that when ya talk to Poppy after she runs off in Hogsmead, you’re character can sound so concern for her and Gah, it makes my heart ache. If anything bad happens to Poppy in the future I’ll riot. I mean it.

Can we seriously talk about the confrontation with that dragon at Horntail Hall?!?!? The lion, the witch, the audacity of that bitch to smile like that when that dragon was thinking about eating us?!?!?!? Idc what any of y’all say, she was smiling and honestly I love her for it. Like words cannot describe just how much I want to take her out and go recuse beats and show her the beats on my RoR.

Gah, I love Poppy Sweeting so much and want more content with her.

Anyways~ I plan to do the other two houses, even have characters lined up and ready to go for them but I’d rather do each run one at a time rather then have all 4 active at once. But I don’t think I’ll have much to say about them as the characters aren’t much interested in romance as they are with surviving. Perhaps I’ll reblog this when their runs come up but idk.

Perhaps my Ravenclaw character will have a love-hate relationship with a certain “I hate my family but I’ll use their name.”

Also yes, I’m well aware that both pairs are Hufflepuff and Slytherian. As I’ve said, I’m a Hufflepuff and Sebastian just happen to be my favorite character and when I went as a snaky boi, Poppy seemed to best fit Orion. That’s not to say I didn’t tease the idea of Orion and Sebastian being interested in each other. A jealous Sebastion is a nice bit of ✨spice✨too add into the story.

#damn #this got a helluva lot longer then #I wanted it to be #like it was meant to be 3 or 4 par for each pair #this is want I get #for letting my music play #while I write…#hogwarts legacy #hufflerin #hufflepuff #slytherin #sebastian sallow #poppy sweeting

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bloodgulchblog · 2 years

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A Whistle-Stop Tour of the Fractures Anthology Pt. 1

Hey, did I remember to talk about the Fractures anthology? A little bit? Kind of? Not really? Let me tell you what I thought about it.

Overall: I think Fractures is a more practical-to-the-lore anthology than Evolutions was and I like more of the stories in it. A lot of them have concrete connections to other books. I just, you know, am bitter about this era of Halo.

Shadow of Intent slaps because of course it does.

Lessons Learned by Matt Forbeck

This one rolls right out of New Blood which... maybe I'll handle later when I'm shotgunning short facts on books I didn't talk about. Part of New Blood involves a Spartan-IV trainee with insurrection ties going rogue on the space station that serves as S-IV head quarters. During this, Jun-A266 (sole survivor of Noble Team, Chief of Staff of Spartan Operations) got thrown out into space. The short story opens with Tom and Lucy (especially Tom) rescuing him from that.

After this, they are told their new job is to go work security at a human-Sangheili joint research station/city on Onyx-AKA-Trevelyan. They'll be working under Franklin Mendez and Franklin Mendez's second-in-command, a Sangheili woman named Kasha 'Hilot. This is kind of awkward for them because Spartan-IIIs in particular are especially traumatized about Sangheili.

The story wraps up with a UNSC soldier newly stationed here trying to start shit with Kasha for being Sangheili. Tom defends her, a fight breaks out, a knife is pulled, and Tom gets into it on her side. Mendez is extremely not amused with the dude or his friends and sends them packing.

Basically, it's a set up for Legacy of Onyx, which I will get around to in... *squints* after I finish up Bad Blood and go do Retribution. It has the potential to be alright. I've heard it's kind of fun.

What Remains by Morgan Lockhart

Lockhart wrote parts of the background narrative for the Meridian levels of Halo 5, including audio logs. (I haven't gotten around to those.) Thus, it's unsurprising that this one follows Evelyn Collins, the voice you hear calling out in distress because she's alone as Fireteam Osiris leaves Meridian in 5.

This short story is about the grim situation that Evelyn and several other survivors on Meridian are in now that they're down an AI, don't have a way off planet, and there's a glass storm rolling in. They manage to scrap together a transmitter in time to hear Cortana's message and to decide to accept her offer because.... what else is there for them to do but die here?

It's okay, I probably would've had more impact from this one if I'd taken the time to absorb more of the ambient material in 5. Really, the feeling of weary resignation at the end is kind of how I feel about the 4/5 era of Halo lore overall.

Breaking Strain by James Swallow

Swallow has no prior or later contact with Halo material from what I can tell, but he does a pretty good job and I actually like this one. It's 2553. The UNSC Dark was the Night (we're already in form with good Halo names for things) has been stranded on the small backwater colony of Losing Hand (see?) for about a year since a Covenant attack took out their AI, their guns, and most of their command crew and they had no choice but to find a place to come down hard. The helmsman, Leone, has had to take on the role of acting captain.

The locals on Losing Hand resent the UNSC ship for crushing their wind farm (though the UNSC ship now provides power to the town from its engines) and also you know, outer colonies vs UNSC animosity.

The ship was carrying a (very traumatized) Spartan-III: Kevin-A282. The threat the Spartan represents is the main reason the locals haven't tried to seize the Dark was the Night yet, but the secret is that Kevin actually fucked off somewhere down the shore a while ago and has only occasionally been seen since.

Tensions have been rising, but things finally come to a head when a Covenant ship shows up on sensors and everyone panics. Leone and some guys go out to find Kevin to try to talk him into coming back (because if the Covenant comes they're going to need him) but Kevin refuses. Leone's on his own.

Things reach a physical standoff between the locals and the UNSC that is about to come to violence, with the locals ready to try to take the ship.

Then, someone snipes the gun out of their leader's hand.

Kevin came back!

Things are about to get even worse when the Covenant ship comes in for a landing and it turns out that hey guys, the war is over, are y'all like.... good out here??? There are humans and Sangheili on this ship that have been working together, do you guys... need some help...?

This is of course a big relief for everyone. The crew of the Dark was the Night (the ones that want to leave, anyway) gets to go home, the ship is stripped down and left to be used as a power station, supplies are distributed, Kevin might actually get therapy, and Leone decides to stay on Losing Hand to try to protect the colony and help the people (and also he bonded with a local woman during this whole thing, so there's that.)

Promises to Keep by Christie Golden

The only thing I knew about Christie Golden going in is that it's been mentioned to me that she's maybe the best writer in the World of Warcraft novelist stable, which I suppose is not a high honor but (given the direness of the tie-in novel landscape and that I have suffered greatly in the Karen Traviss mines) it gave me some hope.

The good news: I also like this one. If you wanted a coda to the Forerunner saga, here it is.

Bornstellar, Chant-to-Green, Splendid-Dust-of-Ancient-Suns (you know, the young councilor from Cryptum), Growth-Through-Trial-of-Change (a Builder that has respecced as a Lifeworker), and several other Forerunners have been working together to re-seed sapient species throughout the galaxy according to the Librarian's plan. (Also, Bornstellar and Chant had a relationship rooted in being sad about the Librarian but it was kind of not a great thing to build a relationship on so now things are awkward.)

Finally, as they are wrapping things up with the San'Shyuum and preparing for their final intent (to peace out of the Milky Way and live out their lives and die off) Bornstellar, languishing in memories, realizes that he still has that unopened message the Librarian tried to send him at the end of Silentium.

Armed with the terrible knowledge that the Domain is broken and they should probably fix it, and also armed with Splendid-Dust-of-Ancient-Suns having some idea of where they need to go to do it, they go to the capitol. Their main objective is actually to get slipspace crystals so they can leave the Milky Way, but like... you know. If they can fix the Domain while they're in the wreckage of Maethrilian, maybe. We'll see.

They find the entity that's left of the Domain (because, remember, the Domain is actually a precursor thing) and it declares it's going to pass judgment on them, but luckily Bornstellar, Chant, Dust, and Trial escape enough to go fix what they have to fix.

Unfortunately, THE DOMAIN REQUIRES SACRIFICE. Growth-Through-Trial-of-Change gives her life to re-template the Domain (or something, I read this a couple weeks ago and Forerunner stuff is always a bit baroque) and saves everyone by doing that. And that's why the Domain is around again for Cortana to fall into 100,000 years later.

Before they leave the Milky Way, Splendid-Dust-of-Ancient-Suns declares that he wants to stay behind (digitally) to help the Reclaimers when their day finally comes. Splendid-Dust allows himself to be composed into a monitor that will remain with the Ark, and becomes 000 Tragic Solitude.

You can tell this wasn't decided until long after Hunters in the Dark so it kind of doesn't entirely gel, but I'm a glutton for sadness and like what that adds to Tragic Solitude.

Bornstellar and Chant rekindle their thing because they have gone through enough to determine that what they feel is about one another instead of just their shared grief, so good for them.

Fin.

Shadow of Intent by Joseph Staten

STATEN'S BACK, BOYS. Did you miss him? I missed him. Overwhelmingly the longest entry in the anthology, Shadow of Intent was a standalone digitally published novella. (I was going to read it on its own, then I figured out it was in the anthology so I just waited to get around to that.)

It's full of Staten doing alien world building, it feels very classic Halo and has the classic Halo space battles if you like those, and I like it a lot.

It's 2553. Because Sanghelios is One Entire Royal Fuckmess during the blooding years, the Arbiter told Rtas to take Shadow of Intent off to do work far away from home to avoid getting involved (and possibly losing the ship.) This is how the carrier winds up investigating a distress call from a Sangheili colony world that was recently and mysteriously attacked.

There, they find the daughter of a kaidon (because on Rahnelo kids are allowed to know who their fathers are) who is hellbent on revenge against the San'Shyuum she says attacked her home. She convinces Rtas to let her come along for said revenge purposes. (Her name is Tul 'Juran and she's not terribly relevant to the main plot but she's cool and I like her.)

(Another character who's cool but not too important is Stolt, an Unggoy who leads all the Shadow of Intent's Sangheili rangers.)

Meanwhile, some surviving San'Shyuum. The Minister of Preparation and a Prelate (fancy San'Shyuum commando lad) named Tem'Bhetek are working on a plan involving a miniature prototype Halo they found. (They killed Tul's father with it.) The Minister of Preparation intends to capture the Shadow of Intent and to use it to carry the mini Halo to Sanghelios and use it to murder everyone.

Tem'Bhetek, the Prelate, has a particular hatred for Rtas for leading the charge in burning High Charity during the Flood attack. He is plagued by nightmares of trying to rescue his wife and newborn child from the Flood, but in reality he had evacuated the Minister because the Minister told him the other San'Shyuum on High Charity were already dead. (This was a lie.)

When Tem attempts to steal the Shadow of Intent out from under Rtas (not impossible if you do clever space battle things, and also note that the Shadow of Intent is running an absolute skeleton crew these days), Rtas instead manages to capture him, flip him by telling him the Minister lied to him (Rtas was there), and find out about the mini Halo plot.

They all go to try to stop the Minister, which ends with Tem'Bhetek having it confirmed from the Minister's own mouth that he is a lying selfish betraying liar. Tem sacrifices his own life to use a bunch of grenades to blow up the mini Halo and end the Minister's plans (and life.)

The Shadow of Intent returns to another Sangheili colony to lick its wounds, and Rtas tells Thel 'Vadam about what all has gone on. He also notes that Tul 'Juran is super cool, and this is what inspires the Arbiter to be like "hey, we should be letting women join the Swords" and thus we owe her everything.

Also, Thel offers Rtas the opportunity to like. Take a break. Or a vacation. Or even retire if he wants. And he's like "nah bro I'd rather go hunt down bad San'Shyuum (and if I find any good San'Shyuum tell them we're cool.)"

End.

I hope we see Rtas or Tul or literally any aspect of this plot line again, sometime.

The Ballad of Hamish Beamish

Frank O'Connor got a cameo role as a janitor in Forward Unto Dawn and he wrote a weird poem giving that character a "backstory." It's not to my taste in humor and I don't care about it.

....

This post is getting really long.

I'm going to make it two posts. I need plenty of room to yell about the Denning short story that's coming up anyway.

#halo: fractures #summaries of things

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starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

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There was a Girl...

Pairing | Jace Wayland x reader

Summary | When Clary becomes a shadowhunter, she notices how cold and ruthless Jace is. Every one seems to relate to his pain, not resonating at quite the same level. They’re all mourning nevertheless.

Warnings | Mentions of death, brief smut (handjob), angst, heartbreak, unrequited feelings (for Clary)

Requested ✖️

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

Opening your eyes, you awoke to Jace's chest, his blonde hair falling over his face. You preferred how it looked when it was a little bit scruffy instead of slicked back, and you reached for one of the hanging strands. They were like seams of gold, reflecting from the light that hid within him.

Most people had the wrong perspective on the young man, they only saw a well skilled shadow hunter. But they ignored the smart and witty, yet simultaneously charming person that he was underneath all of his runes. His parabatai Alec was familiar with the set of abilities that his brother figure had, and all that he would accomplish. People thought, because of Jace’s distorted, and confusing past, that he was just another warrior to serve whatever institute that he was sent to.

But in fact, he was not. His duty would always be, to put his family and friends first. He liked to put you on the top of the list, but you always felt the need to scrap that idea, claiming that you could not be his priority from start to finish. It was as though you knew what you future held for you, and how indeed, he could not manage to protect every person that he cared about. The prospect was a great responsibility, far too much for one shadow hunter, even if they be among the best of their kind.

To put such a weight on your own shoulders was defiantly cruel, it would always end in failure, no matter what was done to prevent said downfall. There was never a possibility of saving everyone, that was insanity. The monsters had to kill, in order for you all to remain outside of Idris, and continue on with your heaven sent duty.

“Jace?” You could tell he was awake from how he smiled at the sound of your voice. “Come on.” It was an attempt to encourage him, but you were quick to realise that it wasn’t working. He didn’t like mornings all that much, for good reason too, after all you were shadowhunters.

“Jace.” Your voice became louder and clearer, up to the point where it no longer sounded like your own. He looked away from the screen, to see the new girl watching him. She had an expectant glaze to her green eyes, which were much different from the shield that was covering his own. His pools were surrounded by a shadow of grief, pulling down the entirety of his face to the point where it looked as though he no longer wanted to live.

And that wasn’t entirely incorrect, he struggled at life, often never finding a moment of happiness, and if he did, then he would paint a smile upon his face and wear it to satisfy everyone else around. He had tried to cope with the loss that burdened his heart so gravely, yet nothing made it feel okay. You’d want him to move on, whether it be to lose his vengeful esteem concerning your passing, or find someone else to confide in late at night, to stay up with talking as his head rested upon the pillow, that he needed to wash, so it didn’t smell like you.

Or even, if not to share a bed with this new person, your overall plan as you sat with the angels above would be to find some kind of peace. But that appeared to be the last thing that he wanted as he digitally scoured the city of New York for monsters to uncover, and kill. If he couldn’t protect you, the love of his life, then he would settle for doing so with humans, after all, that had been the way that you had gone. The job had been your passion, yet simultaneously your downfall, and he’d be fine if one of these days he failed to tackle a beast, and it got to him first.

“Clary.” He greeted her, wanting to remove a dangerous monster from the streets by decapitating it. In memory, he would use your favourite blade, spilling blood upon its glowing stake to keep your legacy continuing, although, it did not do much but serve to release Jace’s frustrations. It was a day in which he wanted to speak to nobody, have nobody following him, nor asking him mundane questions about what it meant to be a shadowhunter. Hell, he didn’t even know! To him, the lifestyle was nothing more than accommodated anguish, though, he had been told not to promote it using those words, otherwise, there wouldn’t exactly be many people lining up to join the adverse fight.

And one of the people that he had in mind concerning excitement over a dire and ‘exciting’ lifestyle was Clary. She was naive, and whilst she didn’t know everything, today wasn’t particularly the day in which he wished to explain it to her. It, being predominantly anything. Whilst he had managed to be nice to her during the first few days, it was out of courtesy, considering Alec had an instant distaste towards the wide eyed redhead; he wasn’t sure why, but he supposed that Clary could see a detail of himself that was hidden from the others.

However, even through Jace’s welcoming exterior, was in pain. The feeling tormented him, denying him a break from the patronising pressure, leaving him to hold blame to nobody but himself. The hurt was cemented into his eyes, reflecting as he watched all other tragedies with a stone cold expressions, them hardly affecting him, because he had and was experiencing the worst routine of torture that was possible to him. He had watched you die, and nothing could take those horrific memories from him, no matter how much he wanted them gone.

That was the last time that he saw you. When you passed in his arms, a large wound in your abdomen pouring out with blood, drowning his desperate hands as he tried his utmost to put pressure on the life threatening injury. He wanted to save you but he didn’t know how, his training had always claimed that killing the monsters was more important than saving the life of a shadowhunter from an unknown bloodline. There had been nothing to prepare him for that day in the field, he was a fighter, and taught to be so, not a healer; he wasn’t a medic, he was just a warrior. “What do you want?” Blatantly fell from his round lips as he cast an eye towards the newbie, unimpressed by her timing, or her presence at all.

Clearly, she hadn’t received the memo to leave him be, especially today out of all the rest. Alec, having the personalised intel as to why Jace was emitting a solitary rut understood why he wished to be alone, and respected the space, granting him as much time to himself as he wanted. And whilst Alec was your friend also, he could feel the deep longing that was stabbing his parabatai in the chest, and it killed him too. Your death had been so unexpected, and now without you, there was a void within the institute. And the archer felt as though Clary was trying to fill it, and he saw that as nothing more than disrespect, though she was probably ignorant to the history that wandered the halls.

Her face revelled back at his tone, but nevertheless she continued on with her prying. “I was wondering if I could join you on the hunt, I’m getting better, Izzy even said so.” Jace refrained from rolling his eyes, and contained the feeling that was trying to burst out of his chest. It was anger, directed at everyone that was still alive, including himself. There was no fairness in it, to say that he was sad was an understatement, he was eternally devastated, the death of you had broken him, crumbled him into a figure that he no longer recognised.

“No, you can’t Clary.” He dismissed her, walking away, and going to grab his seraph so that he could hunt this sucker down, and bring upon the same kind of pain to its family as its kind had down to him. God, did you look badass as you swung it, and the thought alone had tears resonating in his unmatched eyes, thinking of how it was the last relic that remained of you.

Walking casually into the armoury, Jace had his hands prized in the depths of his pockets, as his expert and quick fleeting eyes focalised on you, and the weapon within your hold. Your body leant in harmony with the blade, the sound of it woosh-img in the air satisfying to all that could hear; that being only you and the Wayland boy.

“Can i not train in peace?” You groaned, lowering the blade whence you realised that you were being watched. The eyes trailed up your side where your shirt had ridden up, raking over the rune that you had drew upon your skin only this morning. A light laugh fell from Jace’s lips as he stalked forward, taking your seraph out of your hand, and going to lob it upon the ground, but the stern look in your eyes stopped him. Instead, against his nature, he placed it down as though it were made of glass, and rose to stand before you once more.

“Not when you look that good.” The blonde retorted with a sly smirk, sliding his hands up the sides of your hips, finding absolute solace in the feel of your skin. He could be against you forever, and he would not complain, so long as it did last for such a time. “Makes me want to do things to you y/n y/l/n. Terrible things. What would the heads think?” He asked, in reference to those that were in charge of the institute.

Stifling down remarked laughter at his sensually intended words, you raised your forefinger to the space above his brows, and poked him with enough pressure, so that he would pay attention to the notion. “That you’re not thinking with your own.” You went to cross your arms, but instead, Jace grabbed them, moving down to cast his hand over your own.

“Oh, I’m not.” The shadowhunter confirmed, placing your hand upon the crotch of his sweats, applying enough force behind his grip so that you could feel him twitching. “I am indeed having thoughts from elsewhere, would you like to see my sweet?” Licking your lips, you nodded, watching as he peeled the layer away, wrapping your hand around his base, and giving him a few jerks, feeling his pulse race through his cock.

“Tell me more about what you’re thinking my love.” You bit your bottom lip, fluttering your eyelashes up at him, only to reverberate a groan from the blonde male. He panted as your pace quickened, and he was almost certain that he was going to spray his jizz all over the floor if you did not uphold your sexual administrations. His head leant back, as pleasured sounds broke through the clenching of his teeth.

And then, it all stopped as a voice, dressed in absolute disgust, written over with unmotivated shock, interrupted your little exchange. “Really guys, this is a gym, not your damned bedroom. The two of you really are disgusting!” It was Alec, and he cringed at the fact that he had seen his best friend’s cock being stroked in your grasp. Yeah, he wasn’t going to be training today, or at least, not in the asserted place for it.

“Clary.” Izzy called her name, wearing a short lived smile. Whence she studied the expression of the redhead, she was quick to pay attention to the disappointment upon her face. There was confusion laddered in her skin, masking it with creased that made her look worried all at the same time. “What happened?” The Lightwood woman asked concerned, bracing a hand upon said girl’s shoulder.

“Jace snapped at me.” The newcomer informed her, frowning at the prospect, and then after all that, he had stormed off, as though she didn’t even matter. She felt well and truly rejected, like a newspaper that had been tossed in the street, and ending up in a horrible puddle. “I thought he might have liked me, but his attitude says otherwise.”

Izzy twitched her nose; she knew what day it was. There was no way to break it to Clary easy that Jace had no amorous emotions towards her, and so instead of being blunt with the new resident at the institute, she decided to tell the woman a story. “There was a girl...” she began, knowing that after all was explained, that Clary would understand.

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h50europe · 3 years

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Why the myth about Steve's PTSD doesn't add up and other inconsistencies

In the last few episodes of H50, PL tried to sell us a mentally broken Steve suffering from PTSD. Only the whole thing came a bit too late. The clip you see is from season 4 and ended up - no, not in the series - but somewhere on the floor of PL's editing room. And why? after Kurtzman and Orci departed, along with their writers, PL took the helm and started turning Steve into a super-soldier. He stylized him into something that wasn't meant to be. Instead of developing the characters, PL began to incorporate more and more hair-raising action sequences into the series and then let Steve fight on the front lines. There was no mention of Steve's mental state, and a lot was explained by PL with: it just happened "offscreen." Yeah, sure. PL can't create a decent character. He can only produce stereotypes and one-dimensional beings. Like Adam. What potential would that character have had had he been turned into Five-0's antagonist? But no. So his role remained diffuse and monotonous. Sometimes even tragicomical.

Back to Steve. When SEAL Team started on CBS, PL also lapsed into SEAL mania. If someone who writes fanfiction were to produce as much garbage as this man did, he would be chased away from every writers' platform in disgrace. PL's Super SEAL also had to rescue his team members from a blazing inferno. Not man by man, no, he flew a helicopter right into the danger zone and lifted a whole cabin out of the burning jungle. If lunacy had a name, it would be PL. While the action became more and more exaggerated and unrealistic, the same happened to the protagonists. After the departure of Daniel Dae Kim and Grace Park, PL completely lost his mind. And please, don't blame the writers for the nonsense that was thrown at you. A series stands and falls with the showrunner. He dictates what he wants and passes it on to his staff.

And so, lovable Steve became a soulless robot who only showed feelings here and there. Danny diminished more and more into a sidekick. McDanno became a ship that drifted anchorless through a stormy sea and threatened to capsize again and again. From season 8, it became a reboot of the reboot. PL tried an ensemble show and failed more than miserably. Often the actors just stood around bored. At least that was the impression. The only highlight was episode 8.10. A feast for all McDanno fans. But even here, the outcome of "who shot Danny" was more than insubstantial.

Wait, there was something about SEALs... Oh, yes. Junior appeared on the scene and became Steve's lapdog. I really wondered when there was going to be an episode where he would fetch sticks for Steve. Luckily we had Eddie for that. And because he thought he was so clever, PL invented the episode speed dating. How many subplots can you squeeze into one episode at the same time? In some episodes, you couldn't even take a look at the bag of potato chips without losing the thread.

The case of the week became the yawn of the week. There were so many loose ends that PL then came up with something called retconning. That's what you do when you're no longer satisfied with what was once established in the series years ago, or it no longer fits. But PL went one step further and did the same with the characters. The more the series was dragged out, the more the characters deteriorated and became OOC. It means, often, they were not recognizable at all. And that's where we come to Steve. Because PL, in his desperation, didn't know what else he could do to Steve, and so he killed Joe White. He did it in such a cheesy way with a fake sunset that it made you sick.

Of course, one episode later, there had to be another gig of PL's favorite Barbie. He stuck a fake beard on poor Steve/Alex, so he couldn't even hug Danny/Scott properly. The episode also raised more questions than it answered any. And Steve? He still didn't suffer from PTSD, even though he had now lost Joe White and a fellow SEAL. Everyone is dropping like flies, except for Steve, who is standing like a rock. No matter what. He doesn't need in-depth talks with Danny, nor psychological care, nor any sleeping pills. No, he's doing great. He also opens a restaurant with Danny because apparently, the carguments are already getting on PL's nerves. Unfortunately, this plot device leads into nirvana. The idea was nice, but nobody thought it through to the end. And the merry-go-round continues. Until we get to season 10, where it gets even more absurd. Now PL is almost bombarding us with McDanno episodes, or at least it should seem that way. Oh well, he's already planning for season 11, so a new character has to come on board quickly. While in the beginning, Steve's mother, Doris, dies.

Alex was allowed to take on the subject. Of course, only under the strict eyes of PL. He then nullifies Alex's idea that Steve kills his mother. Because a good soldier and Super SEAL won't do that. Little does PL know. THAT could have been the opening of a PTSD scenario for Steve. However, apart from that, this episode would have had any potential for a multi-arc. Just imagine Steve chasing his mother across multiple episodes. Again, PL stepped in and butchered Alex's episode. You can really feel sorry for the guy. PL at his best or worse? He just can't help it. And then, on the very last meters of the series, he brings someone new, who is allowed to cruise around with Steve most of the time. Because Danny was kidnapped by Wo Fat's widow, PL also invented quite late to have some villain at his disposal. This wannabe mastermind must really have been living under a rock somewhere if she wasn't even mentioned by her husband or appeared earlier.

Because towards the end, PL obviously ran out not only of steam but also of ideas, everything culminated in a wildly illogical scenario. Steve has to live through a dramatic day with Eddie, who stands as a metaphor for Steve (as I said, PTSD was never a thing for Super SEAL), Danny bangs his brains out in a ladies' room with a complete stranger, who dies shortly after that in an accident with Danny's rental car. Apparently, there was no budget to turn the Camaro into scrap metal. Danny then also goes home alone, ignoring the incoming emergency vehicles. Everything remains open at the end of the episode. While Steve expresses his gratitude to Tani and Quinn and says, he would be just as lost as poor Eddie without the dog and all of them. The strange thing is that you never notice anything until that sentence. A few forced dialogues are supposed to make the drama visible, but they all happen way too late or are so poorly written that you miss them.

PL had decided early on to make Steve a Teflon hero. That also means he didn't need to put much substance into the character. Which you can clearly see if you compare the first three seasons to the rest of the series. But towards the end, PL wanted to turn the tide and forcefully rewrote Steve's past. There is a huge difference if you compare Steve from seasons 1 to 3 with Steve from season 10. It is only a sparse remnant of what made this character so great. This change in Steve's personality also affects his relationship with Danny. The witty, affectionate banter degenerates into a snappy, humorless bitch-fest that takes all the joy out of it.

The final two episodes could have been written for any other crime show. As mentioned, we have Cole, who even gets a book'em Cole from Steve, which can only be described as out of line. And it begs the question, was that what Lenkov originally had in mind? Danny out of the show and Cole in? Was the last episode, which mainly featured McCole, something of a test run? Did all the McDanno moments happen only to tear the two apart eventually? Was the real final scene the one where Steve and Catherine take Danny's coffin back to Jersey? Was Danny not supposed to survive? Was that the real reason Steve wanted to get out of Hawaii because he wanted to pay his respects to Danny? And would he really have returned to Hawaii later? Or would he have turned his back on Hawaii? To me, this ending is more plausible than what PL served us. Then, Steve handed over his credentials to Cole instead of Danny, his second in command. Honestly, you can't make the end of a series any more sloppy and dumber than that. And I won't even lose a word about the last 1:30 minutes because I think everything has already been said.

No PL, mission absolutely not accomplished. You created Teflon-Steve. You never wanted him to show any weakness. You turned him into a superhuman who can survive anything. Only to pull the rug out from under him on the last few meters to the finish line and spit on his legacy. How can you dismantle such a great series and its characters like you did? How much do you have to hate something to do that? In the final interviews, the showrunner didn't exactly cover himself in glory either. Everyone who grew up with the series from day one knows that its end was wrong on all the possible levels and that the showrunner is solely to blame for that. It takes a fair amount of egoism and carelessness to drive 10 years at full throttle against the wall. Not many people can do that. Whether you can be proud of that, however, I doubt.

My respect if you have made it this far. Each of you gets 10 extra brownie points for it.

#McDanno #steve mcgarrett #danny williams #scott caan #alex o'loughlin #H50 the final chapter #H50 series finale #Lenkov #Eddie #Junior #seal team

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deithe · 3 years

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the bones (2,847 words) (1/1)

(an introspective on jason grace. kind of?)

read here on ao3 or read below the cut!

jason falls in love with the human equivalent of a forest fire

(his mother fell in love with the sky itself)

jason grace grew up being told that his destiny was very, very simple.

his first and most important mission, handed down to him from lady juno and mother lupa, was that jason was destined to save rome. that his destiny lay with new rome and camp jupiter, a new romulus to lead the pack to greatness. he would spill so much blood in new rome’s name that the little tiber would overflow and the gods would crown him with a golden laurel made from monster ichor.

he would be everything everyone else needed.

a spear for the senate, a shield for new rome, a standard to replace the one that had been lost, a sword for the gods to wield, and another pack member for lupa. he would be the perfect soldier, a demigod fashioned by two god-mothers for the simple act of being a weapon.

his second duty was that jason was to be nothing like his father.

his father, evil, unpredictable, selfish and cruel, was to be jason’s antithesis. lady juno stressed this, as did the senate, as did his praetors (though praetor saville jason eventually killed in battle, so jason doesn’t take her words to heart anymore). jason was never, ever to be like his father. all sons of jupiter before him were either driven insane or were killed, and jason’s great destiny could not afford for him to do either of those things.

‘hubris’ lady juno once told him, while going through his latin lessons in the damp cold of the den (or wolf house, as she called it), ‘is the thing that kills sons of jupiter’.

so jason was to never be prideful, but at the same time, never to believe he was inferior. he was to be subservient but never meek, he was to be a capable fighter but never violent. he was to be kind but not a pushover. open but not flirtatious.

he was to be perfect. he could not afford anything else.

then he, in the span of a few months, murdered his prateor after finding out she was a traitor, watched his friend be assaulted by a family legacy of prophetic visions which turned him into a paranoid asshole, watched his other friend assume a leadership role, one which he tried to refuse, and fought an army, killed a titan and toppled kronos’ black throne.

he also became praetor and then was promptly kidnapped by lady juno, leaving said other friend with all the responsibility.

then any and all plans the gods had for him were ruined by a daughter of aphrodite with eyes like the earth and a son of hephaestus with a smile like war.

how could jason be the perfect soldier when his loyalties no longer lay with new rome? he loved his home, he loved his siblings-in-arms, he loved the legion-

he loved leo and piper more than the breath in his lungs, than the sky and earth and more than his destiny. he loved them enough to try and find whatever scraps of himself he had. to create something they could love too.

(heracles killed himself after accidentally killing his family. love killed him in the end)

and so, jason failed in his first mission. he could no longer put new rome above them, above camp half-blood.

jason doesn’t think becoming his father is an option for him, however. his father is prideful and arrogant and his father's likeness, he will eventually learn, belongs only to his prodigal sister.

and so, jason grace finds his last name, a family he never knew, friends he could die for and an empty cabin that seemed less lonely with leo or piper in it.

then they went on a quest, leo built a ship and they all set sail to stop gaia from rising.

then jason lost leo, then jason lost everything, then jason lost himself and then lost piper-

and, in the middle of winter, leo valdez came crashing down on a metal dragon with eyes like a nuclear explosion and teeth made for tearing meat from bone, or tearing jason’s heart from his chest.

and then jason found himself again in the space between the junction between leo valdez's fourth and fifth ribs.

leo valdez is a lot of things. he’s a son of hephaestus and a complete asshole. he’s the first child of hephaestus to be born with the ability to create and control fire in over 400 years. he’s a 5’4ft guy who wears platformed boots to make himself seem taller. he’s so powerful that he obliterated gaia. he’s a genius. he thinks spraying axe bodyspray on himself is the same as a shower. he overworks himself even when he doesn’t have to. he can fight gods and go toe-to-toe with any big three kid and hold his own. he likes to survive on a diet of mango monster energy and takis. he's obnoxious. he's thoughtful. he makes mean-spirited jokes at other people's expense. he's the best person jason's ever met

he’s-

currently late for their date.

It’s not that jason minds, per se, but leo has a nasty habit of getting so completely lost in his work that he can plan a date for the next day, and jason won’t see him for at least three days. it’s one of the downsides of being the trophy boyfriend of a genius.

jason sighs and rocks back on his heels, eyes darting up to the grey, overcast sky. he can almost hear leo in his head, asking if he could pretty please make it less goddamn cold? and his pout when jason refuses to change the weather for him.

it's not that jason won't. it's just that he can't. it makes aeolus snappy.

sometimes he still does it. manipulates the air currents just enough to warm the air around them and leo smiles, a real one, small and soft. like it wasn't meant to be seen. a secret thing, just for jason.

jason doesn't see leo smile like that often.

it's mid-february in new york and jason is kicking around central park in the grey mid-day light. it's quiet, this part of the park, with barely anyone passing jason as he leans against a tree, wet dew dripping into his unstyled hair. it's cold, but not cold enough for a freeze or snow. just the right amount of cold to turn your hands numb and purple from cold

which. if you've never seen leo 'was raised in texas and has fire powers' valdez in new york snow, jason fully believes you've never lived.

he spends another 30 minutes splitting his time from staring into space and wandering around the meeting spot they've arranged. it's peaceful here. jason can even hear some birds twittering and chirping in the trees above. the cold even stops bothering him. jason likes being alone sometimes.

it reminds him of the lupercal and lupa. long days and nights in the loneliness of the redwood forest. just him and the wolves and the stars.

though now jason has sturdy boots and a wool jacket, so not exactly the same.

he's in the middle of trying to coax a timid sparrow onto the hand, crouched on the balls of his feet when he feels a presence beside him. he goes stiff when he realises and then, like all the tension has been zapped out of him, goes relaxed again.

"that," leo whispers, also crouched beside jason, "is one fat fucking bird"

jason represses a grin, "don't say that. he's probably barely eaten all winter," and leo snorts, moving closer to jason so their shoulders brush. the bird regards leo with some caution but his black, beady eyes seem to acknowledge that jason would keep him safe.

"he looks better fed than me, jace. do you care more about this bird than your own poor boyfriend?" leo says, faux-sadness in his voice, "how cruel, jason grace. how cruel".

jason turns in time to see leo shake his head, black curls wild around his face as they shudder like leaves in the wind. his eyes are dark brown, watching the bird watch leo. a staring contest.

leo says his name like no one else does. like it's a name. like it's good. like it's something familiar and warm. he does not say 'jason' and imagine a great hero or a wolf-boy with no past. he does not say 'grace' like a joke, like grasp for power, like it carries too much weight for his tongue to bare.

he says it like it belongs to jason. he says it like it's important. not too fast, but not too slow.

leo turns his head to find jason staring at him.

"jason" he calls, lips quirking up at the edge, pulling out the 'o' like toffee, "i know i'm pretty irresistible but please, keep your longing stares for the bedroom"

jason shoves up against leo's shoulder, blush bursting across his already red-cold face.

he pushes just slightly too hard and leo goes spilling across the wet grass, yelping in surprise.

"jason!" he yells, looking up at jason half shocked and half in amusement. "what the fuck, dude!"

jason can't help himself.

leo is wearing jason's hoodie, the black one mrs.blofis picked out for jason which leo claimed as his own even before they started dating. his new denim, fur-lined jacket (from the hide of the nemean lion they killed last year) is just slightly too big and he's wearing black jeans. he looks like the college freshman he is. he looks mortal.

he looks human. he has leaves in his hair and his cheeks are flushed from the cold, teeth showing through the toothy smile he's giving and-

it's uncanny, sometimes, how well they can pass for normal. you almost can't tell leo's died and come back to life. you almost can't tell he's more powerful than any living mortal.

almost.

jason falls on top of leo in the wet grass, which causes leo to yelp, again, and knee jason in the stomach.

jason groans "dude, what the hades was that for?" and he rolls of leo, onto the wet grass beside him, arms protectively covering his bruised stomach.

"you fell directly on top of me, you big lug," and leo sits up, picking a leaf out of his curls absentmindedly, "if you haven't noticed, you're like a bean-pole with muscle mass. that shit hurts!"

jason pouts up at leo, who manages to look both unimpressed and fond. he rolls his eyes and offers his hand to jason, who accepts and leo hauls him into a sitting position in front of him

"hi, leo" jason says finally, "you're late"

"i'm not late, loser, you're just a nerd and get places earlier than normal people. its super weird," leo tells him, matter-of-factly, scooting closer to him as they sit on the ground. "you should really get it checked. might be terminal nerdiness. the glasses are just the first sign"

jason raises an eyebrow, curviving over said glasses. "i didn't know it could be terminal. oh well, guess i'll just wither away and die from being punctual. what an injust life i lead. how the sorrows never end"

leo pouts, eyes sparking with enough warmth to keep out the cold for decades to come, "don't be so down about it, I hear being a nerd has perks,"

jason moves closer, so his knees are half-pulled up to his chest and he's balancing his weight on his hand. leo fits perfectly in the bracket of his arms.

"oh? do tell?" he asks, and leo is close enough that jason can see the faint freckles on his cheeks. they're fading from how far away leo has been from the sun, but jason loves them anyways.

"yup," leo says, popping the p and smiling like the cat who got the cream. "do you know that all nerds get super hot and funny and sexy boyfriends? as compensation for being such nerds, of course"

jason pulls back his head a bit, just as leo laces his arms around his shoulders, "really?" and his voice is soft, but the smile won't disappear from his lips, "wow, didn't know that. guess I'm lucky that you're such a huge nerd or-"

leo kisses him like coming home. and in a way it is.

jason has known many homes. he's known the small apartment with his mother that smelt like spilt wine and smoke and mold. he's known the lupercal and the redwood forests around it. he's known the barracks at camp jupiter and the feeling of purpose in his chest. he's known cabin 1 and cabin 9 and bunker 9 and on the back of festus and on the argo. he's known the feeling of reyna laughing as he tells her wild stories and of the fifth cohort raising him on their shields. he's known lying in leo's private room with piper and leo, listening to low music and feeling safe with just them.

but the one person who jason has felt like home since they met was leo. his high ground through the tsunami. his parachute during a plane crash. the one point of home. like the north-star.

jason smiles into the kiss, his free hand tangling itself in the rough fabric of leo's dark blue denim jacket. it's soft and chaste, more a press of warm lips than anything. it's comforting. it's familiar. it's everything he wants.

leo pulls back a bit, just far enough to speak but still close enough that his breath brushes up against jason's cold face. "hi," he says, brushing his nose against his, "missed you, bro".

jason snorts, "i missed you too, leo, how's MIT treating you?"

"like i'm it's bitch is how it's treating me," leo tells him, slumping slightly into jason, forehead against jason's. "can we not talk about college? i think if we talk about college I might start crying and then our date will be ruined"

jason pulls back a bit to look at leo. he does look more tired than usual, eye-bags darker and lips bitten from nervousness. he frowns, using his free hand to cup his face. "are you okay? we can just go back to your dorm if you're too tired-"

"ugh, no way" leo groans, "fuck that. i just wanna spend time with you, okay? i wanna be mushy and all that gay shit. i want bad food and to kiss you again and again and do more than kissing-"

jason rolls his eyes.

"-and then go back to mrs.blofis apartment and watch really bad movies you like for some reason and then i'll go to sleep beside you and it'll be gay and shit"

"gay and shit?"

"gay and shit, you better believe it grace. but first-"

and leo untangles himself from jason and stands up, brushing the dirt from his knees leaving jason frowning on the floor.

he offers out his hand, brown skin calloused from work, long, thin fingers curled slightly as the palm faced upwards.

"c'mon, super, treat your louis lane to some greasy new york food before he decides batman has better pay"

jason is so, so lucky he got leo valdez. that the fates decides to make sure that his destiny crosses leo's. that he convinced leo valdez to let down his walls, to stay, that jason wouldn't leave him like the others, or hurt him or betray him.

that jason was in it for as long as leo wanted him to be. that jason only wanted leo to say his name, wanted to give it to leo because leo's the only one who's mouth jason trusts with it. that jason wanted to give leo his past. wanted to show him and tell him where he got each scar.

he trusts leo with this. he trusts leo's hands to not burn it all to ash. because he knows that if leo wanted to, he could. he could burn jason alive with a thought. turn him to ash and glass with a flick of his hand.

jason has fallen in love with a nuclear bomb, with a supernova of a boy and jason doesn't care if it kills him, because he has spent so long pretending to be what everyone else needed, that now he was going to be who he wanted to be. even if it got him killed. even if it burned him alive.

jason grace has fallen in love with the human version of a forest fire. he should be afraid of it, of leo. he is not. he never will be.

beryl grace fell in love with the sky itself. wanted all the stars in heaven and didn't care what happened to her. as long as she knew she had the stars attention. as long as she knew the sky loved her back.

as long as he knew the fire loved him back.

he takes his hand.

#my writing #jason grace #fanfic #hoo #toa has no power over me i do as i please #leo valdez #valgrace

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thethistlegirlwrites · 3 years

Text

Faebruary/Febuwhump Day 20

Prompt: Betrayal

Robin lays out the required gear on the locker room table, checking all of it before the field training class begins. All around him, his classmates are doing the same thing. No one is paying any attention to him, which is a good thing.

He’s done pretty well so far. Aside from the cereal incident (he checks the boxes for iron content now if he absolutely has to eat cold cereal in the cafeteria) and the bloody nose O’Connor gave him in training last week (He was able to glamour the color of it fast enough but it almost got him sent to the nurses’ station anyway) he’s more or less slid through his first few weeks at the Silver Blade academy with relative ease. No one knows he’s fae, and he’s getting better at keeping it that way. Once he joins a field team, he’ll be good at this.

He ignores the little voice that tells him statistically he can expect to experience a major injury in his first year on the job, the kind that will unequivocally land him in the infirmary and get him outed. Maybe by then he’ll have found and killed the vamp who took his dad, and this will all be over.

An even crueller little voice asks him what he’ll do if he finds his father at the end of all this. If he’s been turned, like everyone seems to believe...will I be able to stake him?

He honestly can’t answer that. And right now he doesn’t need the distraction. He can’t afford to get hurt in training, nothing that will draw blood. The field ops instructor has praised his quick thinking and his ability to dodge any attack someone aims at him. The woman doesn’t know that Robin is as desperate to stay safe as he would be in an actual fight. The other kids here, the humans, they can afford to make mistakes and learn from them. Robin can’t.

But today, when he and his classmates step out into the training room, Robin can’t see Wheeler, with her red-grey braid and her scarred cheek. Instead, the person standing in the instructor’s area is a tall man with black hair and a black jacket.

Beside him is the Academy (and the agency)’s director, Marcus Jamison. Silver Blade, as a small agency, rolls the administration of its field work and its training into one role.

“Class, there’s been a change of instructor. Linsey Wheeler has been transferred to active duty with a field team, and Garret Roman is your new instructor for the rest of this class.”

It’s not an unusual situation. Two other teachers were recalled to active work and replaced with field hunters who have been put on injury leave. Jefferson, Robin’s new vampire biology teacher, has his right arm in a sling and his left-handed chalkboard writing is atrocious, and in tactics class, Halloway walks with a heavy limp.

But Robin can’t see anything physically wrong with this new instructor. Still, Silver Blade is known for shunting its problems off to the Academy, or at least that’s what Robin’s heard. Wheeler herself was waiting until she passed a psych eval after a hunt gone bad. Robin wonders if this guy’s in the same boat.

But there’s nothing in his eyes like he saw in Wheeler’s. Like he saw in Mom’s. Or sees sometimes in his own in the mirror. There’s no buried pain. Just a sort of steely, cold determination. Robin can’t imagine this guy being put at the Academy instead of in the field.

“Hope Wheeler ran a tight ship because I won’t cut any of you any slack,” Roman says sharply. “Discipline can save your life in the field. And you’re gonna learn it here. There will be no less than a hundred percent given in this room, and if that’s not what you’re used to, get it through your head that it will be now.”

He’s abrasive, and it makes Robin feel tense. He’s uncomfortable with people who act like this. People like this are dangerous. But Robin’s good at giving whatever he can already. He’ll be okay. He’ll keep himself invisible just like he was before. It’ll be alright.

Director Jamison leaves, and Roman picks up the clipboard that holds the class roster, reading down the line. When he reaches Kennedy Greene, who’s not in the room but also doesn’t have a notation next to her name explaining she’s out for injury, he scoffs.

“If Ms. Greene thinks she’s going to be given a free pass on skipping class because of who her mother is, she has another thing coming. If any of you know her, please inform her that she will be receiving a recorded demerit and has effectively used her one excused absence in this class.”

Robin can feel the tension in the room. Everyone is wondering who’s going to be the next target of the man’s ire and glad for now it’s not them. Roman continues working his way down the list, scanning the room as if he’s daring anyone else to be missing.

"Robinson, Angus." There's a small giggle of laughter through the assembled class, despite the fact that they've heard his name every day for weeks.

He wishes he hadn't had to give over his name, but the fae prohibition against lying extends to the written word. When the form required his first name, he had to give it. And it's not the oddest name in this business anyway. Hunters have a fondness for the anachronistic.

As long as no one knows he's fae, it doesn't matter. They can't command him in Seelie. He just has to deal with the discomfort of hearing his true name in someone else's mouth.

“Was your father a hunter?”

Robin nods, feeling a little sick. Roman doesn’t seem overly fond of kids with family legacies. He hopes he’s not about to get singled out like Greene. I don’t think I can slack because of a parent who had the same job. I’m not entitled. But he’s not sure he could convince Roman, and worse, he’s afraid of being someone the man regularly keeps an eye on to make sure of that.

“Adam Robinson’s kid, huh?” The man glances over Robin with a quick but skeptical stare, and something like curiosity. Does he know something about what happened to my dad?

“Yes.” Robin tries not to sound as eager for any scrap of information as he feels. He has to know. This guy came from the same agency as his dad, the black wolf design that was recently picked out of the leather left behind an unfaded and still clearly legible mark.

For a moment he wonders why the embroidery was removed rather than simply struck through with a line of red thread, there’s something skittering around the back of his mind, something Dad said once.

About the time he remembers that’s the mark of a hunter who left an agency in disgrace, barred from wearing their emblems ever again, the man speaks up.

“Didn’t he marry some Seelie girl?”

It feels like the temperature in the room drops twenty degrees. Robin can’t breathe, he can’t think, and everything is slowly tilting. No, no, no, no.

“Doesn’t say you’re fae on the record,” Roman is still talking like he hasn’t just upended Robin’s whole world, his whole life. He can feel the stares. “You wouldn’t be trying to pass yourself off as human, now would you?”

Robin knows if he opens his mouth he’s doomed. But his silence is just as damning.

“You’re coming with me, fae.” A hand slams down on his shoulder. “The rest of you, hit the physical training room. I have a problem to take up with the Director.”

He turns to Robin. “Let’s go.”

Five minutes later, they’re standing in Director Jamison’s office. He’s still at the Academy, probably finalizing some of the paperwork for the personnel change, and looks upset at being disturbed. But when Roman pushes Robin in front of him and snaps, “this one’s been hiding the fact that he’s Seelie”, the man takes notice.

He looks from the class roster to Robin, who’s struggling not to stare at the floor.

“Angus. Are you in any way eligible to be classified as fae?”

Robin swallows. He can’t get around that question. If they’d said ‘Are you fae’ he could have honestly said no, because he’s not fully fae. He’s part human. But this...humans have learned the fae’s loopholes and systematically closed them.

He takes a deep breath and wonders how it can feel so empty and numb to watch your whole life collapse around you.

“Yes. I’m fae.”

Taglist: @nade2308 @telltaleclerk @the-one-and-only-valkyrie @catwingsathena @asloudasalone @anguishmacgyver @flowingriver24 @myhusbandsasemni @floh673 @teddythecat1234 @bkworm4life4 @viawrites-andacts @amarilloskies @teamimprov @febuwhump

If you want to be added to or removed from my taglist for Magic & Silver stuff, just let me know!

#febuwhump #febuwhump2021 #febuwhump day 20 #faebruary #magic & silver #robin #angus robinson #my oc #original character #original work

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druddigoon · 3 years

Text

SwSh Scraps

[leon&hop. an examination of the dysfunctional, adulation-based relationship of brothers, from the perspective of the older brother who’s always gone]

Leon was in a commercial shoot when his brother was born.

Phones weren’t allowed in the studio; Oleana, pin-straight and proper, stood sentinel outside with his in her hands.

“Congratulations,” she had said, handing it to him. “you’re a brother.”

Leon stared. On the screen was the puckered face of a newborn baby, swaddled in stark hospital linens. Dark hair, olive skin, little button nose--he would’ve thought it was one of those awkward baby pictures his mum hung around if not for the text on the bottom: You’re a big brother now, Lee!

He scrolled down his notifications. 5 missed calls.

“Come on,” Oleana’s hand was choking on his back. “We need to fly you to a conference in five minutes. You can call later tonight.”

“Rose is a better father than you ever were!” a younger Leon screamed, voice cracking at the edges. Rose didn’t police his bedtime or judge his choice of breakfast foods, Rose bought him everything he wanted; Rose was the reason he was here instead of working a dead-end job in a backwater town, not her.

“Lee?” Hop’s voice, deeper than he last remembered and cracking at the edges. It takes him a second to recognize it. “What’s going on? Why are you calling me?”

“Hop. I’ve cleared my schedule for the weekend. Tell your mum I’ll be arriving in Wedgehurst on Saturday, in the afternoon, maybe later if the train runs late. I’m--”

I’m coming home.

-------------------

[piers&marnie. the second installment of the darkest day au, which i actually plan on returning to since it’s near and dear to my heart]

Spikemuth is a city of elegies.

She wears them like anchors, the fading note of a once illustrious mining boom, now home to families with nowhere else to go; everyone carries a little bit of her burden, tragedies wormed under haggard skin, between rusted chain-link fences and across boarded up doors with holes for handles. Shared secrets too volatile to taste air.

For Marnie, the tragedy is this:

Piers never wanted to be a gym leader.

She remembers her bro’s face inked across the headlines of the Daily Galar, a younger Piers wearing his uniform and a smile and short hair with no shadows beneath his eyes.

I’m very grateful to have the privilege of representing Spikemuth here, her bro was cited as saying, And I’m thankful for everyone there who has supported me through thick and thin. Especially my sister, Marnie.

Finalist contender--she’d watched fraying tape records of the matches, up until his defeat at the hands of the champion. He still has his badges, golden plate propped up in a display case in his office, along with his league pictures; every year, he takes it out to polish.

The gym challenge was popular, the crown jewel of the Galar region. And everyone loved the underdog, a contestant in battered hand-me-downs and legs too long for his body, who fought as if the crowd was his rhythm, who swept through the competition without a single dynamax. His notoriety gave Spikemuth a much needed boost, and companies began investing again, seeing promise in these run-down streets like they eyed the boy streaking through the circuit.

When her bro lost, he returned home a hero.

The thing about challenger fame is that it never lasts. The gym challenge resets every year, bringing in a fresh wave of contestants drawn by the distant possibility of glory, who will fight and hurt and lose to try and rise up on top. Soon enough, everyone fades into obscurity.

And Spikemuth did too. Investment dried up. Infrastructure deteriorated. Nothing lasted forever, and back then, the city seemed to be nearing its twilight years.

Marnie remembers the day Rose knocked on their door, remembers the towering man wielding showy words like “vacancy” and “opportunity” from her hiding spot behind her bro’s legs, how he presented the offer like gift but discussed terms like debt.

Somewhere along their negotiations, her bro was crowned gym leader.

They didn’t have a dynamax spot, couldn’t even afford a gym, but after her bro’s candidacy was announced everyone threw a huge potluck in his honor--pooled their savings for a new microphone stand and speaker system, after his old one wore down.

When her bro sang, his music reverberated into the audience like hope.

Once they’re alone again, Piers had slumped against a creaky chair, pulled out a cigarette and lit it with shaking hands. Marnie remembers yanking the package from his fingers, taking note of the brand--the same one their late father used.

“Since when did you smoke?” She asked.

Piers had smiled bitterly. “Not too frequently, though I’ve been gettin’ a habit lately. Sorry you have to see this, little sis.”

He took a drag before exhaling. The smoke billowed out like miasma, rising into the darkened sky. Another followed, then another, until she couldn’t tell the difference between cloud and smoke.

“Bein’ a gym leader is no easy feat, and I doubt I have the stuff for it,” Her bro finished his cig, flicking it onto the streets, “But what else can I do? This old place needs somethin’.”

He was Spikemuth’s hero, and Spikemuth was his burden.

Marnie remembers lingering on the cig, watching embers unfurl against cold hard concrete, before they flickered out.

When Marnie opens the door, she hardly recognizes her brother standing outside alone, soaked to the bone, hair slick against his head and looking like the wind would blow him over. To her, big bro was always the person who stood by her, who could lift the world for her on days when she’s too weak to stand, who could shelter her when she was nothing but dark clouds and rain.

But part of growing up is realizing the people you look up to are not perfect, have their own chips and cracks in their armor. Big bro is the boy who used to throw her up in the air even when it hurt his arms, slip her candy when their parents weren’t looking; Big bro is also the teen who would be protective to the point of suffocation, the forlorn man beyond her steps with a plea in his eyes.

"We only have each other," Piers murmurs.

Marnie closes her eyes. His hair is just like she remembers: soft and frizzy and just a little bit stiff from the hair products, the faint whiff of his favorite dollar store cologne he'd always had stocked up. Cold, clammy skin, but she can feel the press of his heartbeat amid the quiet rumble of his voice; and like modulation she's six again, curled up in the contour of her brother's arms as he sings her storms away.

She takes a deep breath. Steels herself.

Then she pushes him, hard.

"Idiot!" Someone's yelling. Is it her? She recognizes her voice but not the raw, seething edges of her words, the staccato hitch at the ends. "Y-you've been leadin' a city since I was in primary, and when other people need you most the only thing you think about is us? Were those years, was-does this legacy you passed down to me mean anything to you?"

Piers manages to steel himself before his ass hit concrete (or maybe the push wasn't as hard as she thought, some sentimental part of her holding back). He's not mad. It's somehow worse. "Not all people need or want the same thing, achievable things, Marn. It means I've learned to pick my battles."

And the battle he fights is against me.

#drudwrites #leon pokemon #hop pokemon #marnie pokemon #piers pokemon #marnie and piers one actually has a pretty complex plot that's hard to summarize #so snippets taken out of context might sound weird #tl;dr they had a big fight #different priorities #different misunderstandings

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fae-knight · 3 years

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The backstory i have written ~~so far~~ for my beloved DnDestiny OC Pyriks!

More below the read more

Pyriks: First life.

Pyrkis had never known true peace. All their life they and their House had been on the run, trying desperately to survive in a hostile world. They were House Dusk. A House relatively new to Guardians, but to the Eliksni it had existed for decades. Underground and hidden. Away from the prying eyes of other Houses but always welcoming to new members. Pyrkis was brought into the House by their birth parents. They died trying to get Pyriks to safety after deserting, escaping from House Devils. And their effort, their sacrifice was rewarded. Their only surviving child lived. Their legacy could be carried on.

But sadly their sacrifice was not to be remembered by Pyriks. Being a mere hatchling under so much stress made remembering such early memories difficult if not entirely impossible for them. Not that they ever tried to remember them anyway. They had 2 loving fathers who took them in when they were all alone in the world. Not knowing better and never being told otherwise, they just assumed these were their actual parents. Their names were Syfaks and Bykis and they were the people Pyriks loved most.

Pyriks was barely 17 winters old when the Cabal invaded the Solar System and the fighting started. The House had to be protected but Pyrkis was too young to fight. Instead, they offered to learn to smith, to repair, to create for the fighters and the rest of the House. So that they might count upon the armor they don, and return home safe. And it did seem to have it's effect. The better Pyriks grew in their skills the more Eliksni came home alive, the less were brought back lost to them.

And this continued for about 3 more winters. The fighting became more prominent in the lives of the House members and fewer and fewer returned home. The Barons tried to tell them that it was the armor's fault, that the weapons were not good enough. And perhaps they were right, in a way at least. All throughout the system there was talk of a new House. A House that spoke of peace for those who wished it. And there were those that wished for it. They were tired of the fighting, of having to wear the armor.

And Pyriks and their dads were too.

Syfaks and Bykis found an answer to their wishes, or, at least a partial one. Radio chatter was hot with word of The Spider, the leader of a House on the Tangled Shore. There was still talk of fighting, but no word of it being with Guardians. It was their safest bet of survival and so they took it. They managed to contact an associate and set up a rendezvous point during a supply run. But their communications with the associate were discovered by one of the Baronesses and she wished to make an example out of them to teach the rest what trying to leave would lead to.

But she would not do so in the safety of their home. No, she would give them hope. Hope for a better future. She would let it grow right until it was within reach. And then she would take it all away. Or at least, that’s how the plan was supposed to work out. But whether you call it fate, or maybe even destiny [Hehe], other plans were made for Pyriks and their family.

The day had arrived. They were packing whatever they could carry but wouldn’t be missed and said their last goodbyes to those close to them. Once they were done they left. They gave the place they called home for so long a last look and then turned away, hoping that they would never have to look back.

They made their way to the rendezvous point and met with Spider’s Associates. After some talking about what would be expected of them and moving what little stuff they had into the Skiff that was going to bring them to their new home. Right as they were putting the last of their belongings on the ship the Baroness saw her chance to strike, and so she did. She and a small group of subordinates opened fire upon the Skiff and it’s crew. The crew responded in kind while trying to get everyone safe inside the ship ready to fly off.

Wounded and scared, Pyriks barely escaped the crossfire. But their troubles did not end here. They were bleeding profusely, Ether was escaping from the wounds, they were not long for this world. With nowhere to go and nowhere to return to they fled into a nearby forest hoping that they would not be followed and discovered by their old House.

They kept running until they could run no more. Their body gave out, the last of their ether spent. They slumped down against a tree. The woods were quiet, save for the birds singing the songs of a new day. But those sounds slowly dulled as Pyriks lost focus, their eyes turning a dull grey. They died from violence, but surrounded by peace, witnessing their last sunrise.

Pyriks: First resurrection.

A year had passed since then, their body, or what was left, was overgrown with plants but continued to enjoy undisturbed peace. Until a small Ghost who was still looking for her one, her chosen, was scanning her way through the forest. She was scanning every rock she could see, every log or mound where she thought a person might be.

And so she came upon this shield of flowers and thorns, protecting a body from the rest of the world. But this would not do for the Ghost. she could sense the Light within the body. She connected with it and knew in an instant that this body would soon become the Guardian she had been searching for since her creation.

She gathered the Light around herself and like a guiding star, brought this body back to the path of life. But where she was expecting a human, awoken or exo to be, instead appeared an Elkisni, reborn in the Light, witnessing their first sunrise.

Pyriks: First meeting.

To say that she was shocked would be an understatement. She had never even heard of it being a possibility. Though she had been away from the City for quite a while, she was probably just out of the loop, she thought to herself. But never mind that. She had found her own Guardian and she would protect them no matter what.

The Ghost asked her Guardian for a name to call them, but the Guardian did not react. Their eyes were blue, but still dull, dull with pain and grief long since forgotten, but still felt. It was quiet until the Guardian spoke for the first time. "Pyriks" they said. No explanation followed, but their pained expression spoke a thousand words.

The Ghost nodded and told them that that was a fine name. But no reaction came. The Ghost decided to bump into Pyriks at a seemingly reasonable speed and managed to shake them out of their waking dream. The Ghost was about to ask if Pyriks would like to name her too, but a Robin's chirp caught Pyriks' attention first. What was that sound they asked her. "A bird's chirp" she replied. "...Chirp. I like that sound. I will call you that'' They said.

Pyriks: First City.

After getting to know each other a bit, Chirp proposed the idea to go to the Last City. With nowhere else to go Pyriks agreed and followed Chirp to what would become their new home.

Chirp managed to make contact with the City and explained their situation. With no way to make it to the City on foot all the way from the EDZ she requested for her and Pyriks to be picked up and transported to the City. The City complied with the request. It didn't take long for the ship to arrive and pick up the pair. And so they flew to the City, their new home.

After some time to settle in Pyriks was brought to the Eliksni Quarters to meet with Mithrax, Kell of House Light. Pyriks hadn't seen anyone who looked like them before and listened attentively to every word he said.

He asked them what house they belonged to. They could not answer. And so he offered them something: a place in House Light, a family within the City. Pyriks could not explain it, but the word "Family" made them think, made them want, made them need. They accepted Mithrax's offer and began meeting their new family.

After they had settled in once more they began tinkering with scrap, partially out of boredom, but also because it felt so familiar to them, like they had done it a hundred times before.

This hobby eventually turned into something more serious. With the Vanguard not certain about sending Eliksni Guardians out into the field they instead offered Pyriks a position in Banshee's shop. Helping him build and repair weapons and sometimes even armor.

They and Banshee grew to be close friends in no time, bonding over the care and passion that went into what they did. Pyriks continued to help the City in their own way, with their trusted Ghost and friend Chirp by their side every step of the way.

#Destiny #dndestiny #Guardian Pyriks #Ghost Chirp #eliksni guardian #Hunter

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shadoedseptmbr · 3 years

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fic post 3

@breadedsinner

A future chapter of Steal Away Home, for a very patient reader <3 And anyone else who just likes drama :D Hard warning: Violence, blood, kidnapping, high peril, and some implied but not shown torture and mind control. (typical of Dragon Age but not everyone’s cup of tea at 10 in the morning.)

Pt 3

Varric was adjusting Bianca. "She doesn't need a knot on her head, on top of that other shit."

Merrill, nodded behind him. “Do as Hawke says.”

Sebastian agreed but it was torture...sweet Andraste that's what....

Fenris reached her first, but he didn't touch the still, crumpled form of his partner...his hand hovered over her, anguish thick in his voice as he muttered. "What have they done?"

Sebastian shook his head, digging for clerical detachment as he reached into his pack and pulled out his cloak to wrap around her. He gathered her to him, trying to ignore her cracked, bloody lips and the way her frigid skin looked too dry, tight as Fenris pried her fingers from around the dirk and the glass shiv. It had sliced into her palm at the edges of the scrap of gory cloth it had been wrapped in. Pressure wounds, as if she'd used the pain to keep her focus. A pattern of scars from recently healed blood magic were livid on the backs of her hands. Fenris traced one with his own lyrium traced finger, a growl low in his throat.

Varric picked up the lockpick that had fallen, found the other next to it on the stone floor and tucked them into his coat for safe keeping. They were the two she kept worked into her breastband, just in case. “Can’t leave these, she’ll be looking for them.”

He popped open the banded chest that had turned over in the fight and scavenged her leg sheaths and her rings, all blood smeared.

Merrill glanced around as she smeared elfroot salve on the livid cuts on Aeryn's hand and shoulders. "These are...this was bloodmagic, Sebastian."

He nodded. "Was she...is she being controlled?" Her lip was nearly bitten through. Her nails were broken and bloody, one thumb nail torn to the quick. Nasty abrasions on either knee, her knuckles shredded, more scars and blooms of bruises up one thigh, . If they controlled her, she had fought it. Fury screamed through him, in impotent waves. He couldn't even ask forgiveness, not from the Maker and not from her, for not finding her earlier, before she had to rescue herself.

Shaking her head, Merrill answered him. "She probably just didn't know. She likely was afraid for you. Let's get her back to the manor. Between Bethany and I, we can figure it. Fix it if we need to. " Merrill looked far less fey than she normally did, her voice firm and sure as she tugged him to the door.

Fenris eyed him hesitantly, her hand still in his and Sebastian tightened his arms. "Sebastian..."

"No." His friend opened his mouth to speak again. "No." He was being irrational and possessive, he knew. But, Maker...mine was the only clear thought he had just now.

Varric held his hands up. "Choi....Sebastian. I get it. We all do. Nobody here doesn't want to resurrect these nugshit bastards and kill them again. But if she...you know as well as I do, Hawke doesn't need her knives to kill you. And if she wakes up and finds out we didn't stop her, she really is going to slit her own throat next. Let Broody carry her."

He stopped as he turned to walk out of the basement. A rectangular white stone caught his eye, in a skid. He'd slipped on it as he'd stormed in. Flipping it over, a now familiar glyph was visible through the smeared gore. "If we'd needed proof, I suppose we have it."

>>------->

Finally, Bethany laid a hand on Aeryn’s forehead and sighed. “She's waking up.”

“Thank the Maker,” Sebastian gripped her hand and startled when Fenris appeared at his shoulder.

“You must leave.”

“No. No I won't, why in...”

Fenris growled at him. “I made her a promise, Sebastian. I will see who looks at me before I let her near you. Leave. I will call you right back in.”

He waited as Bethany urged Sebastian out of the room. As the door latched.

In his years of knowing her, Hawke had never woken gently. It was different now, he understood...he hoped. But this time was as always, she woke with a snarl and her hand reaching for a blade.

And as soon as her eyes focused on him. “Did I hurt him? Anyone?”

“Only those who deserved what you gave them. I swear.”

Grief passed over her delicate face. “Did he see?”

Fenris didn't have years of memories to call upon but only his horror at his own action with the fog warriors came close to matching what he saw in her eyes.

She went very still when his hand touched her shoulder. The curving scar over the round of muscle echoed one of his. As did the red lines on her throat disappearing down into the tunic, down her forearms. Danarius' legacy spread like a cancer across the flesh of his friend. Perhaps his secrets...Fenris' past had not died with the magister, after all.

Not now to mention that. Now his friend needed him to meet her with assurances not more doubts. "Sebastian saw only your strength, Hawke. Nothing else."

She shivered under his hand but before he could remove it, her own hand pressed it back.

“Are they…” she croaked.

“All dead. I promise you. And the bodies burned. Varric and Merrill made sure.”

#sept writes #steal away home #aeryn hawke #blood tw #violence #torture #read with caution

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shadeswift99 · 3 years

Note

hi I have minesona questions for you :) What's Shade's personality? Are her eyes intense ('mean') or more open ('nicer')? Who is she closest to? Does your previous minesona and shade exist in the same universe? What was your previous minesona?

Woohoo! Minesona questions! I'll answer those any day.

I...do not blame you at all if you don't read all of this. I answered each question individually and I ended up with a lot of words.

Shade's personality is...hard to pin down, because it's essentially just bits and pieces of mine and I have a hard time composing an image of myself. :) I can tell you a few scraps of characterization that come to mind, though. Shade is introverted, left-brain oriented, and just generally feels kind of disconnected from other people because of being undead, so she worries a lot about coming off as cold. She tries to make up for that by showing kindness to people in ways that come naturally to her, usually by giving gifts or doing tasks for people, like building redstone farms for friends who are mostly builders. She is very curious about the world around her, and definitely puts the need for knowledge above caution in a lot of her experiments. She tends to treat most mobs as being more conscious than most people think, especially villagers. She is unlikely to start a serious fight but very likely to start a friendly one, loving competition (she doesn't have near the pvp skills to back that up, but she doesn't care if she wins or loses, it's about the journey!) If she enters a serious fight it will probably be because she was provoked, or defending someone else (which she is a little too quick to do sometimes; she needs to remember that not everyone wants or needs a bodyguard)

Shade's eyes are not naturally very expressive. She often has to make a conscious effort to make them read as nice, engaged, annoyed, etc. when talking to someone. When she's not experiencing an emotion strongly or consciously controlling her expression, her eyes tend to slip into this eery thousand yard stare type of look. She knows that freaks people out (it freaks her out a little bit, too), so she tries to make her face look more "alive" in the presence of others.

Shade is closest to the people she shares a world (Ecocraft) with at the moment, as well as a few other friends she's met along the way (Twelve, Dawn, essentially my friends' personas). She has an easy time connecting with people on a surface level, but a hard time trusting them, partially due to a bad first experience with other players. These people are patient with her though, and she's gotten to the point where she doesn't feel the need to set elaborate security systems or look out for traps wherever she steps anymore.

My previous minesona and Shade...kind of exist in the same universe, but not the same timeline. They never met. This is because Shade technically is my previous minesona: same player data, same code but with parts of it deleted and replaced by the Void, same body but modified. She has the memories of the previous player, in a disconnected type of way, but the first person's personality was essentially deleted and left to develop again from scratch, like a newly spawned player. Shade picked up a few of the same traits from undergoing similar things in a similar environment to the original, but she considers herself seperate. She thinks of my previous minesona as a sister she never met, who she is trying to honour and escape the shadow of at the same time. She stayed in Vera's world for the first few months of her life, but moved to a new one because she wanted to stop feeling like she was working around someone else's legacy.

My previous minesona's name was Vera. She had a bit more of a medieval fantasy-ish tilt to her characterization, being an adventurer/fighter type who lived in a floating castle and defended the village below with her life. She considered the villagers to be her friends, equal to her in all but the abilities she had as a player. She was very hesitant around even simple magic like enchanting tables and nether portals, believing it to be cursed, yet she was also fascinated by it. In general, she had a lot more of a survival oriented mindset, since she only ever lived in one world and she didn't last to the stage of the game where safety and excess of materials is common. She didn't even know that other players existed. I probably won't do much more with her now that she's dead, but I still like the idea of her a lot... Also I'm pretty sure that there's a link to a more in depth explanation about Shade and Vera on my minesona ref post somewhere.

#also somewhere between Shade and Vera I had a bit of a gender crisis sooo #Shade's relationship to gender is as complicated as the rest of her relationship to being kinda-still-human-ish #Void took my gender; can't have shit in Minecraft #djdhfhhfdj #ask #shade lore

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morganaofcamelot · 4 years

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If Wishes Came True (Chapter 1)

Title: If Wishes Came True Chapter I: The Games People Play

Fandom: BBC Robin Hood

Ships: Guy of Gisborne/Original Female Character, Guy of Gisborne/Marian of Knighton, Original Female Character/Original Male Character

Definately an AU - Sir Guy of Gisborne has served the current Sheriff of Nottingham for five years prior to the beginning of the first season, and is considered a part of the family, both by Vaisey and his daughter Valerie. The chapters are from Val’s POV, as she struggles to maintain her youthful innocence in a place that’s all too willing to steal it away from her, and navigate the intrigues of her father. [Many changes from the show, although the fic loosely follows season 1]

When the servants came to draw the curtains, the cool March air entered the room, almost like a kiss it brushed her, wiping the frown from her face. Below, the courtyard was almost deserted save for some dogs looking for scraps, and the usual guard that her father required to be posted at all times. The castle would soon return to normality, and the men would waken with their sour bellies and headaches, expected to return to their duties.

Everyone but her father, Valerie thought, with an unbidden shiver. The feast last night has been as grand and magnificent as any girl in the cusp of womanhood could dream. For once, her father spared no expense and had made the castle look like it came straight out of a romantic tale; he had commanded the main hall to be lit with torches on sconces, and a hundred candles to be placed around, engulfing the otherwise cold interior in warm light. More servants were specifically hired to help, and she watched in awe as the said servants were hurrying to complete their tasks, and carry the plates of food from the castle kitchen to the feast hall. She had not seen such lavish expenditure on food in all sixteen years of her life.

But as much as she had enjoyed the revelry and the merriment a good feast and a goblet of wine could bring, there was more; her heart had fluttered, last night, at the sight of her father’s right-hand man, Sir Guy of Gisborne, who was most handsome out of his black leather jacket, opting for one in dark blue instead, a color which brought out the color of his eyes…

Valerie blushed even at the mere thought of it – this time she could not blame the strong Burgundian wine that she tested the day before for her bad thoughts, because it was long gone from her system by then. Another shiver crept up her spine. He was such a delight to look at most days, but she wasn’t raised a fool; she knew that his affections were lying with somebody else, whose hand was frequently looped with his arm.

Lady Marian was a pretty young maid, five or six years older than her, and her smiles and attention brought the best out of Sir Guy, who was infamous for the permanent scowl and the bad temper of a mad dog throughout the shire. Valerie held nothing against her, but still found that she was very envious of her, that moment. Not that her father would ever allow her to form an attachment to his man-at-arms. As he had told her, on numerous occasions, only a truly wealthy and powerful man would make a good match for you, my darling. The words were always followed by a pat in the hand, as it was his chosen gesture to show affection.

A shiver, again. This time she hugged her shawl tighter, trying to keep the sensation away. Yesterday’s feast had a special purpose; Lord Robert of Locksley, the Earl of Huntingdon was back from the Crusades after five years fighting as the king’s personal guard. She couldn’t help wondering whether the feast was a distraction – knowing her father, and knowing that Lord Robert’s lands had been ruled by Sir Guy in his absence, she couldn’t help it. None of them should be celebrating Huntingdon’s return. In fact, she thought she had seen Sir Guy most stressed about the situation.

No matter, she thought. Men do as men are.

Valerie turned away and paced about the room, tempted to find an excuse to skip breakfast at the table. She sighed, for her lack of conviction. She’s been taught well. She was raised to be a good girl, and she would only live to serve her father, such as he is, for he had always loved her, in his own way. And so she marched, like a soldier heading to war, but not before taking a last, long look at the mirror. Her face didn’t particularly please her; a long nose, a somewhat pointed chin and high cheekbones was her mother’s legacy to her. Her father, had granted her the dark hair and the green-brown eyes. She wasn’t half as pretty as Marian of Knighton, but she couldn’t help it. She shook her head.

As she had guessed, she found her father in the hall, breaking his fast. Upon spotting her, he gave her a curt smiled and indicated the chair on his left. “Good morning, daughter! Did you have a good night’s sleep?”

“Yes, thank you for asking, Lord Father” and she bend to give him an affectionate kiss on his cheek. “Where is everyone?” she asked, noting the absence of Sir Guy.

A servant girl, Jane, inquired whether Valerie would have wine. Valerie shook her head, as she didn’t enjoy the beverage as much as her father did.

“Oh, last night’s merriment calls for a late morning, don’t you think? Not for me and you, of course.” He said as he bit into his potage and bread. She didn’t speak as he chew, having a feeling that he would go into details. And she was right. “Gisborne’s sulking around here, somewhere, he should be with us soon. And Lady Marian and her father, of course, since they spend the night here.”

Valerie feigned a smile at the mention of Marian. “Good,” she said. “Then I shall have company while you men go on about your business.” Her father nodded. For a heartbeat he seemed intent on studying her, but got distracted by Sir Guy’s entrance.

“Ah, Gisborne. At last. We were just talking about you.” He flashed another one of his bright smiles. Sir Guy was once again dressed in his favorite outfit, the all black leather set.

“My lord,” he politely inclined his head at the sheriff. “Valerie.” His courtesy applied to her, as well.

Valerie took a sip of water. “Good morning, Sir Guy.” She said in a small voice. Damn, she thought. Damn me. That sounded weaker than a man’s dying breath. Her cheeks reddened then, and she was glad that her hair were down this day, to conceal her embarrassment from their scrutiny.

“You had a nice night, Gisborne?” Her father’s lip twitched – an innuendo, or a secret lied in his words. Hidden meanings made his lips twitch, Valerie had noticed. She had watched him speak them countless times.

Sir Guy smirked, without much humor. “It was passable, my lord. The welcoming feast was excellent, however.”

The sheriff – for that what he was when he was in the presence of other people – barked out a laugh. “Ah, Gisborne. I am glad you enjoyed yourself. But I must know, was it the company you kept, or Huntingdon’s face of despair? You have to tell me.”

The black knight laughed, a short, contained sound; as if he didn’t have enough practice at it. “Both, my lord.”

The sheriff patted his subordinate’s shoulder. “Good boy,”. As if he is a dog. Valerie held her tongue; it wouldn’t do, messing with her father’s affairs. She had the inkling that her father saw Sir Guy as the son he was never granted, but his affections were not shown in a way society could deem compatible.

Soon, Sir Edward of Knighton and his daughter came in. Sir Guy’s eyes perked up to look at the object of his fascination. Disappointment crossed his face when Sir Edward took the chair beside him, forcing Marian to sit next to Valerie, who shifted uncomfortably for a moment, then settled. I have nothing against Marian. I cannot blame her for the affection she receives.

After some idle chit chat, the sheriff spoke once more with authority. “You will be present at the hanging, I take it?”

Marian’s fork slipped out of her hand, falling on the plate with a loud noise. “Is it to be today, my lord?” she asked, her bright blue eyes wide.

The sheriff relished her discomfort. “Oh, yes, my darling. My daughter will attend it. She would be most appreciative of your company throughout this ordeal.” He spoke in a way that didn’t let Marian any room for arguments.

“I’d be honored to stand as her companion, my lord.”

The sheriff’s lip twitched again before he spoke. “Good girl.”

***

Valerie had to admit, that Lady Marian was not the most pleasant of companies; she had an air of superiority about her, and a generous amount of confidence that gritted on Valerie’s nerves, because she lacked those qualities, and she so wanted to have them! She shook her head to empty it of her negative thoughts. Lady Marian has done nothing to you. She is as forced in this position as you are.

Yet, envy was not an easy sin to wash away. Still she tried, because she was a good girl. She lowered her eyes whenever she spotted Sir Guy glancing towards them, knowing full well that he sought to gaze upon Marian. Valerie bit her lip, to stop bitter words from escaping.

Lost in her thoughts, she barely noticed the wondrous turn of events that took place right in front of her eyes; when the stools beneath the hanged men were kicked and the cries of their loved ones echoed in the stone walls of the courtyard, Lord Robert snatched a bow from one guard and shot arrows at the hanging ropes, claiming that their crimes worth no more punishment than a spell in the stocks. He managed to free two before one of the guards had his aim on him. Beside her, Marian shifted, grabbing a pin from her hair. Valerie saw that this was not a simple hair ornament, it was an elegant throwing knife, made in such a way that could be concealed in the hair of a woman. Reading into Marian’s intention of incapacitating the guard, Valerie found the courage to catch Marian’s hand before she managed to throw it.

Shock passed Marian’s face that mirrored Valerie’s in equal measure. Below them a cry of pain escaped Lord Robert’s lips. Valerie turned to see that the guard had struck true, and that the arrow shaft had hit the Earl in the arm. The men the renegade lord had managed to free, reached for him amongst the fray, quickly grabbed him and made for the gate, in mad dash to escape justice. The sheriff barked left and right orders, she saw Sir Guy running behind the fugitives, something acute to panic in his features.

The two men Lord Robert didn’t manage to save, were hanging lifelessly from their ropes, forgotten and limp.

“Why?” Marian hissed in my ear, furious.

Valerie feigned innocence. “Oh, I do not know what happened. I’m sorry if I held onto your hand too tight; I was scared out of my mind, Lady Marian. I thank God for your company, for without you here, I would have surely fainted!”

Marian was confused, but managed to slip into a mask fairly quickly. “Oh, think nothing of it. I am here for you.” Biting her lip at the end of the phrase. Lies, Valerie thought. Her face feels like an open book.

Looking down, Valerie commented on the lethal hairpin. “Oh, that’s a lovely design,” she said, pointedly. “It must have fallen off your hair, during this nasty business.”

Biting her lip again, Marian nodded.

“It’s very pretty you know; you must let me borrow it one day.”

Marian offered a small smile, now that she felt secure. “I will, one day. You must be very careful, though. It was a gift from my father.”

The commotion had left the castle, as most of the guards were chasing the escaped criminals. Valerie smiled at the older woman. It was Marian’s turn to compliment her, she knew, as was the norm between the two of them.

“That’s a lovely necklace. Silver, isn’t it?” Sure enough, Marian delivered. Valerie’s hand touched the jewel in question without meaning to; it was a token she wore every day for the last six months, ever since Sir Guy had given it to her as a birthday present. The design was simple, but Valerie thought it the most beautiful necklace of the world.

“Yes,” Valerie replied, with a genuine smile growing on her face. “It is my favorite.” A slight pause. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Lady Marian, I have to return to my father.”

Marian simply smiled and nodding. “And I will return to mine.” Valerie spared a glance behind her, as she was climbing up the stairs of the castle.

“What game are you playing, Lady Marian?”

#bbc robin hood #robin hood bbc #guy of gisborne #guy of gisborne x original female character #*mine

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thezestywalru · 4 years

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Kismet 3

Hey guys! So Donald Peak is an actual police detective in the GCPD, I believe he was introduced in the Gotham Central comics. Hope you guys like the update! It’s way shorter than I wanted it to be, but I should be working on something else anyway. Thank you to @messymessyml for showing me how to link the chapters.

First | Previous | Next |

Marinette quickly picked up her purse after checking Anthony’s pulse. He was dead, and rigor mortis would soon set in. Pulling the blood red clutch open, she placed on the blonde wig she had worn last night. Smirking, she walked out of the hotel room, briskly walking down the hallway away from the cameras.

Quickly pulling out her phone, she chatted aimlessly into it about the recent hookup. Pretending to talk to a girlfriend, Marinette chewed gum to alleviate her nerves, twirling the ends of her long messy blonde wig.

She checked the phone as she left the hotel, trying to avoid suspicion but not seeming like she was trying to avoid suspicion. Ducking out of view of the cameras and removing the wig, she still kept her guard up. She reversed the jacket she wore over the short asymmetrical dress from last night. Tucking her phone into the pocket, she turned back to the direction of the hotel. The police would arrive soon, and no matter how incompetent they might be, she didn’t want to be there when they came.

“Time of death 0300.” The underling reported to the head detective. “We’re currently reviewing all camera footage from last night.”

“Alright.” Said Donald Peak, the lead on the case. “Gather ‘round, everyone!” The other four detectives he was in charge of joined him in a circle. “Our vic’s name is Anthony Jilani...” He paused to flip through a notepad.

“He was reportedly the ringleader for an underground fighting ring. They were notorious for human trafficking. He had no children, was married twice, the current wife being his mistress. Maybe the ex-wife hired someone?”

The detectives each began squabbling, talking over one another and offering up their own proposals, each less and less likely than the last. Don sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, and surveying the crime scene. There was barely any evidence- the cameras were their only hope if they couldn’t get a hold of any reliable witnesses.

“Sir!” Officer Xue jogged up. “I have a theory what happened.”

Peak was not amused. He crossed his arms, turning to the young man with an unimpressed look to his eyes. The detective faltered.

“The MO matches Tyche, sir.” He hastened to explain. “There was iocane powder ingested by the victim by whiskey last night. He came upstairs with a blonde woman around 25, 5 foot even, 125 pounds. The camera didn’t get a good enough image of her face, but they both seemed pretty intoxicated.”

Tyche was the most infamous vigilante for hire on the streets. They- or rather evidently, she- had made waves of terror on the crooks of crime alley just three years before. She never targeted one caste, ranging from domestic abusers to high profile men such as Jilani. No one knew her identity or who she was. She always seemed to get away right before the authorities arrived, in a fruitless game of cat and mouse. A young detective had aptly nicknamed her after the Greek goddess of luck a few months after her first murder.

Don looked at the blurry image of the laughing girl as she struggled to get him into the room. They immediately began to passionately remove clothes in the doorway. Giving them this image of her wasn’t careless. No, it seemed like she was following the footsteps of many killers that came before her by giving them one scrap of information, a shred of hope- the legacy of the Zodiac, Jack the Ripper and the Watcher. It was planned nearly perfectly, but Don swore on God that he would stop this woman before he would retire, even if it took to the rest of his life.

-----

“Hello.” A young man greeted Marinette nervously in the coffee shop next to the Bat-Cave. He was tall, with the typical black hair and blue eyes befitting a Wayne.

“Timothy Drake?” She emotionlessly confirmed, gesturing for him to sit down next to her. He cracked a small smile, sipping on a travel mug of coffee. He avoided her eyes, perhaps as a way of keeping her from discerning his secrets, or maybe in an act of anxiety.

Marinette surveyed him quickly in a small once over. He was passable, and she could tell that his father had made all of his boys attend weight lifting and wrestling classes. She frowned as she noticed the large under eye bags that made his eyes seem sunken in. She extended her hand after a minute or so of silence.

“My name is Annette Cheng.” She gave the moniker she had chosen upon her arrival to Gotham. “We have a lot to work on. But first, we drink.”

Marinette picked up the flask from her hip. Nodding to him, she lifted in a toast. “Kismet.” She said, knocking back her head.

@thestressmademedoit

@maribat-is-lifeblood

@magic-miraculous

@loveswifi

@stareyedmoonchild

@mochegato

@queen-in-a-flower-crown

@messymessyml

@bigpicklebananatree

@crazylittlemunchkin

#maribat #maribat au #timinette #marinette x tim #assassin #mafia au #vigilante #kismet #thezestywalru

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