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chom-raaa · 4 years

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Madam Lan: Secrets

There was no righteous triumph that came with the revenge, but she did not regret it. There were things that needed to be done whether they were righteous or not.

What she did regret was the look on Qingheng-jun’s face when he had pleaded for her to explain. To tell him that it was all a misunderstanding and that there was some unspeakable reason why she was standing over his master’s corpse, a streak of his blood drying on her cheek. There was none. It was revenge and there was nothing more to explain. And perhaps she might have hurt a little telling him exactly that.

She did not regret the life she could have lived. The debt of murder must be paid back in blood after all and she had accepted the consequences from the beginning. But she might have regretted the cold snow on her skin and the open skies above her head. At first she dreamt of the birds singing, of flying with them to who-knows-where so she can see the treetops and the meandering streams. Eventually, the dreams faded with the drifting clouds and she found an interest in the sway of gentians beyond her window.

She did not regret her children. They looked just like Qingheng-jun and she didn’t regret that either, but she couldn’t deny the sadness in her heart when A-Huan had greeted her so formally, or when A-Zhan had tried to bring her a handful of snow, only to realize it had melted on the way to her cottage. The month after that A-Zhan was sick from practicing in the snow, as A-Huan had put it, and had thrown out his medicine when no one was looking. She had given him a dried plum to have with his medicine then, just to ease the bitterness a little. It was trivial, but it was all she could do. With time, her sons grew, and there was nothing she could do for them at all.

So when Qingheng-jun opened the door one winter night, his figure bathed in cold moonshine, she did not regret walking out of that cottage for the first and last time.

But she did spare one last glance back into the Cloud Recesses. Her children did not need her, they had been fine all this time without her and that was for the best. Still, she hoped they would miss her for a little while, perhaps until the gentians bloom again.

The seasons pass and she leaves the cultivation world behind. Her hands had grown soft over the years and she had made peace with that. She discovers love again in the weight of a mortar and pestle, the aroma of herbs, and they bring her to a sleepy town by a cliff where the seagulls flock.

She enjoys decades of peaceful solitude until the wine-maker’s home become haunted by a vengeful concubine. It was nothing serious and she expected the problem to resolve itself.

She did not expect the Bearer of Light to appear in this little town hidden from the world.

He is a stranger, she convinces herself, but she hurries through her tasks for the night to catch a glimpse of him and his companions anyway.

The morning after, a black-clad figure sweeps into her quaint little shop.

“Do you have anything for a hangover?” He asks, smiling sweetly as if he were courting a young maiden.

“It’s called restraint, young man,” she says easily.

The laugh he releases is open and buoyant, unabashed. “You’re right, you’re right. My fault, I got carried away last night, but my partner really needs to be up soon.”

She shuffles through her drawers, picking out some roots and flowers and wrapping them in paper, “Brew this as a tea, it should help a little.”

She hands the package to the man, who takes a sniff and shakes his head, “Ah, maybe it’ll shock him awake.” He pauses as if remembering something, and she sees the laugh in his eyes before it bubbles from his mouth, “I’m kidding, he’s great with this kind of stuff.”

He fishes around in a delicate pouch that contrasts with his dark attire and she takes the moment to examine him. She wonders if he’s ever tried to hold snow in his hands before. As he reaches out to pay her, she hands him a second package.

“What’s this?” he asks, although he’s already taken the parcel and peeled the paper back to see for himself. “Dried plums?”

“To ease the bitterness,” she says, “my treat”.

AN: Also posted on AO3

#mdzs #madam lan #lan wangji #lan xichen #wei wuxian #fanfic #chomra writes

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hanniba1 · 4 years

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i was tagged by @matthewbrown and @cannnibal for these super fun hannibal questions!! thank you both so much i always love gushing about this show as we know

Favourite episode and why: oh god okay, if i HAD to pick one it’s mizumono. it’s just such a Perfect episode, it’s so ridiculously beautiful down to the tiniest detail, like the ticking clock sound that plays through most the episode???? love it. my other top favorite episodes are secondo, primavera, shiizakana, dolce, naka choko, appertivo, tome wan, trou normand, the wrath of the lamb, the number of the beast is 666, contorno, mukōzuke and su-zakana.

Least favourite episode and why: uhhh, i honestly love them all?? i guess probably either hassun or takiawase?? just they feel the slowest to me i guess.

Favourite side character: jimmy price!!!! i love him so much. i’d say beverly but she’s not a side character in my eyes.

If you could bring back one character who died, who would it be?: abigail because she didn’t deserve to die. i know it held value for the story but i really wish she hadn’t, especially in that way. it’s beautifully tragic and painful but she as a person deserved better.

Dish prepared in the show that you would like to try eating/ making: all of it except the weird ass nietzschean trout and that disgusting jello with the fish in it because those look DISGUSTING. and the frois gras for the same reason as bella. everything else i would try, can’t promise i’d like it but i’d definitely try it.

Which side character would you kill off?: chilton just because for god’s sake just let the man DIE ALREADY poor guy

Was there any scene that you didn’t like to look at?: i’ve talked about it before but the intubation scene is by far the scene that causes me the most discomfort. it feels so much like a rape scene and the symbolism of it, it Is a rape scene, a violation of will’s body. the way hannibal strokes his face i just. yeah. also the lobotomy scene but i have a thing with eyes. other than that the gore never bothers me much, at least not anymore i’ve seen it some many times.

Biggest ship: hannigram obviously like..... why is this even a question

Why did you start watching Hannibal?: i have always been a big fan of the hannibal films, and red dragon was always my favorite so when i found out they were doing a show i was stoked! i watched the first two seasons when it first aired but i lost cable around the time season 3 aired so i didn’t end up finishing it until 2016. so yes, i ended on MIZUMONO and didn’t see any more for TWO YEARS. it was traumatic.

Favourite Hannibal fic if you’ve read any?: okay i went through a period of like 3 months where i just Binge read them and they were all good but they’ve sort of blurred together. but a few that really stuck out for me were

Blackbird

Two Solitudes

As soft, as wide as air

Of Putrefaction, Saccharine (lol this one fucked me UP and i CRIED)

I Didn’t Know It Could Be Like This (part 1) & If The World Burned to Ash, Still We Would Remain (part 2)

What We Talk About When We Talk About Blood (i never read the second part bc it’s not finished, and i REFUSE to start a incomplete fic)

Change Me (If You Dare)

Have you watched any of the Hannibal films?: yes!! i grew up watching red dragon, silence of the lambs and hannibal. i think i watched silence of the lambs for the first time when i was like 7 or 8 LMAO which explains a lot. the only ones i haven’t seen are hannibal rising and i really wanna watch manhunter!

Have you read the Thomas Harris books?: i’m in the process of reading red dragon, but i most definitely prefer the show.

Favourite murder tableau: in the whole show it’s the prisoner, because the significance it holds for will’s character arc. but if we’re talking about the more traditional murder tableau’s i’m gonna go with cassie boyle’s it’s visually very striking and beautiful in a horribly morbid way.

Favourite blood spill: oh god a lot of them but uhhh, obviously the slaying of the dragon, will imaging slitting hannibal’s throat in tome wan, and then i completely loose my damn mind over will imaging being randall tier in shiizakana when he’s covered in blood and has the antlers coming out of his back i— 👁👄👁

What’re some of your headcanons?: it’s not necessarily a headcanon and more of an analysis but i go absolutely FERAL when i read any meta talking about will holding a more traditionally feminine role in the story of the show, especially talking about him being a gothic heroine. it’s why i loose my mind over any comparisons of hannibal and dracula and will being mina i just [incoherent screaming]. i also obviously love any headcanon’s of dark will graham. it’s something i post about myself a lot because to me it’s not headcanon, it is canon supported throughout the show, that will is killer who wears a person suit the same as hannibal. he’s not just a righteous killer, he has the exact same capacity for violence as hannibal. he just had a harder time accepting it.

i tag (and once again if i double tag y’all i’m sorry!!) @aragima @arunima @horrorcupid @nietzscheantrout @honnibal @hughdancyx @marg0t-verger @serialcannibal @hotgirlhannibal @francisforever and anyone else who wants to do it obviously xx

#🦂#some of my answers are too long oops #tag games #hannibal #long post /

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ty-talks-comics · 5 years

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Best of DC: Week of October 30th, 2019

Best of this Week: Tales from the Dark Multiverse - The Death of Superman - Jeff Loveness, Brad Walker, Drew Hennessey, Norm Rapmund, John Kalisz and Clayton Cowles

We all know the story of the Death of Superman.

It was one of the few times that Superman fought a threat that pushed him to his limits, ultimately meeting his “end” before a triumphant return after he had been presumed dead. However, what would have happened had Superman not come back as soon as he did? What if someone wanted revenge for his death and saw his passing as a failure on the part of his friends and allies? What if that person were Lois Lane, fueled by the anger of losing her loving husband, enraged enough to become the change the world needed without its greatest hero?

The book begins with Tempus Fuginaut questioning why the darkness keeps returning, why it seems to keep attempting to poison the rest of the multiverse and he is at a loss. He breaks when he mentions worlds that are already dark because of tragedy and get darker still. We then cut to Superman’s battle with Doomsday and his eventual death right up to Lois cradling his body. Where the original story sees her crying and appreciating all that the rest of the heroes were doing while the fight was going on, this book sees her turn to them in fury. She asks why none of them were there for him, why none of them helped him fight.

Brad Walker does an excellent job of conveying Lois’ emotions. Here, she is shown to be far more angry, her eyes showing a pain that honestly, I don’t think we’ve ever seen from her character. Her tears are well detailed, dripping down her cheeks with maybe some bit of mascara mixed in for effect. Her brow furrows and she lashes out at Batman in particular once he tries to comfort her.

What’s most interesting about this take is the idea that those closest to Clark had been shunted to the side in favor of the League who Lois saw as attention seekers with no regard for his real family. In the original story, Lois and the Kents were in the forefront and were absolutely devastated at the funeral. In this story, Lois is barely able to see the proceedings as the crowd blocks her and some members of the League stop for photos (maybe, Hal Jordan stops and waves at someone). Lois is further disgusted as Lex Luthor (with luxurious long, red hair) unveils a golden statue of the Man of Steel and promises to “live up to the hope” of what Superman believed humanity was capable of. Lois feels that Clark would have found it all s disgusting.

Time goes by and the world turns back into the cesspool that it was before Superman even lit the sky up with hope. There are headlines that crime has skyrocketed and Lois can do nothing but look at it all with despair. Lois Lane had always been a giant beacon of hope, even before she met Clark, but something about his death and the way that world handled it just broke her. Her body language at her desk and later, Superman’s grave give off heavy feelings of sadness and depression. She can’t even have a good night's rest without thinking about him and the shoddy state of the world after his passing. Superman gave so much to humanity and they’ve all just pissed it away from her point of view.

She visits Ma Kent and comforts her as the Kents couldn’t even go to their son’s funeral to say their goodbyes. As they embrace, Martha tells Lois that Jonathan fell into a coma after a heart attack and you can feel her brokenness as she laments that “her boys are gone.” It rips at the heart to see, a testament to Brad Walker’s emotional art and Loveness’ amazing script. She stays with Ma Kent for an unstated period of time before making her way to the Fortress of Solitude to deliver Superman’s cape back to his Kryptonian home.

She puts herself in a fetal position before the statues of Jor-El and Lara Lor-Van and suddenly the form of Eradicator appears before her. John Kalisz is given a ton of space to shine as this is one of the most visually dynamic sequence of pages in the book. Eradicator shimmers with a bright and vibrant shade of red accentuated by a white form. Energy surges around him in the form of circular marks, like bubbles as one exhales while swimming underwater. Even without a mouth, his eyes emote for him. Showing his own anger and lament after failing to save Superman in time.

Lois, with tears in her eyes, offers her body as a vessel for his power as he cannot sustain it in his current form. He is reluctant at first, thinking that her body wouldn’t be able to take it, but upon seeing her resolve and want to finish Superman’s mission, he allows her to take his power. She is then showered in his energy in a bright blast as he dissipates into her. The Fortress of Solitude is destroyed with the red of the explosion contrasted by the blues and whites of the ice. Things simmer down for a moment before another single beam of light shoots out from the ice, revealing Lois in her Super-form.

Her costume is amazing. Mirroring the bloody logo that made the Death of Superman story feel so visceral, she already feels like a different “hero” altogether, choosing to forego bright colors in favor of a black bodysuit and Superman’s torn cape. She vows to make the world better, to make it a world that deserved Superman. The way that she goes about it very similar to Injustice Superman’s approach, but instead of raising an army, she is the army. She takes down predatory banks, ends wars, feeds the hungry, kills the corrupt and does so without a hint of remorse. She begins to wonder why Clark never used his power in that way. The questions swirl around her mind as she wonders if Clark was truly naive or if he was just afraid of truly Saving humanity for whatever reason.

Many have asked similar questions over the years with the only real answer being that Superman wants humanity to advance on their own with him being a guiding hand, but not a firm one. Lois, only fueled by revenge, doesn’t have the same restraint. Eventually she finds Lex Luthor, knowing that he’s been the cause of all of the world’s troubles since Superman’s death. He doesn’t bat an eye as he admits to his heinous crimes; funding wars and conflicts, struck down climate regulations, created child soldier and even murdering his secretary just because he could. He expects Lois to bring him to justice, claiming that he owns far more judges than she could stop.

In a terrifying moment, she bursts through the glass window separating them and grabs him by the throat. Luthor is unable to speak, unable to stop her at all and the motif of tears continues as she tells him that Superman was Clark Kent. Luthor’s face, abject terror mixed with the loss of breath is both horrifying to see and absolutely gratifying considering his actions. She flies him past Earth’s atmosphere as quickly as she can, burning him to ash and bone in her hands before continuing her mission.

These are my favorite pages in the book. Loveness wrote it in such a way that all of the emotion is able to be carried by with little dialogue and the few words that are spoken were powerful. Walker made sure to draw these pages with an amazing amount of depth to them. Lois’ boiling anger is painted on her face through her tears, her body language indicates that she feels her actions are righteous and the ease that she’s able to keep hold of Luthor as she destroys him shows a level of control over her new powers and it is amazing. Kalisz makes no bones about showing how Lois’ inner darkness has taken over, showing her shrouded in fire and feeling nothing about what she has done.

The training wheels are taken off by this point as Lois has seemingly gone on a tear through the rogues gallery of almost everyone; burning Intergang, Cadmus, Ra’s al Ghul, Ares, Black Adam, Deathstroke and finally the Joker which draws the ire of Batman. He confronts her about what she’s done, leading to them having a fight. Batman does his best, but she tells him how much Clark actually held back against him, even going so far as to say that Clark pitied him and wished that he would stop being Batman. Bruce looks at her with a seething rage, saying that “he doesn’t stop” to which Lois says that she knows. While we don’t see the aftermath of their conflict up close, we do see her heat vision make a huge blast before she flies away.

This stuck out to me because, unlike Injustice that went out of its way to show all of the brutality that Superman inflicted upon the heroes of the world, we can interpret similar actions from how she was able to easily kill Batman alone. We don’t need to see what happened to know that it was heinous and that she likely had cut a swath through the other “glory hounds” as well. As she looks out to the vast emptiness of space, she sees her own truth. Humanity can’t be saved because they don’t want to be. Batman was the pinnacle of that and now that he’s gone, she’s finally realized it. Batman was one of the greatest humans to exist, but he was too wrapped up in his own emotion and damn anyone that tried to stop him.

What would a Death of Superman retelling be without the “pretenders?” Granted, I think this bit of the story took some liberties, but it was still horrific to see. She goes after Cyborg Superman and immediately sees through his ruse. They have a tussle and as it appears that she’s about to lose, Steel and Superboy show up only to be crushed and heat visioned to death. I suppose Superboy’s clone DNA doesn’t make him as invincible as Superman, but I don’t think Cyborg Superman has the power to control metal at will to crush Steel either. Lois proceeds to fight Cyborg Superman for God knows how long, not caring about property damage or the amount of people killed.

She looks around, seeing all of the damage and suddenly, in a black suit, Clark returns. He apologizes for how long it took and sees that she’s been fighting Cyborg Superman, then he takes a look at the crowd of people and sees that they’re afraid of her and he questioned why. Unfortunately, this leaves him distracted enough for Cyborg Superman to blast the pair with a ray of Kryptonite Energy, killing him and leaving his face frozen with terror at Lois. She kills Cyborg Superman and cradles his body again, this time knowing that she’s the one that kills him.

I loved this book because it was absolutely masterful. Lois Lane is such a great character that rarely gets stories of her own these days, aside from her current ongoing series by Greg Rucka and Mike Perkins. She is always portrayed as a strong character and seeing her succumb to a weakness like rage is refreshing in a dark way. One criticism I could draw is that this story focused very little on her journalism, but in contrast, how often do we get a super powered Lois Lane?

Brad Walker, Drew Hennessey, Norm Rapmund and John Kalisz absolutely killed it in the art department. It was brutal without blood and the motif of tears and fire was a nice addition. Waller has such a distinctive and sharp style that is accentuated by Hennessey and Rapmund's inks and elevated by Kalisz' colors. This book was high quality and beautiful.

High recommend!

#dc comics #comics #tales from the dark multiverse #lois lane #superman #death of superman #dark multiverse #batman #lex luthor #jeff loveness #drew hennessy #norm rapmund #brad walker #john kalisz #comic review

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utterimmolation · 4 years

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AC: Syndicate/Captain America Drabble

He's a scrawny thing as they grow up. A heart full of courage and lungs barely strong enough to keep him going. Full of righteous fury and desperation, born of a premature birth and his father's distance.

"Fool," his sister murmurs, dabbing at his bloody lip and swollen eyes, souvenirs from yet another fight in another alley, goaded by another taunt. The light is dim, the stove barely works enough to heat the warm, medicinal milk she presses into his bruised, skinny hands, hand so like her own, yet far weaker.

On his worst days, he resents her healthy body. They were born at the same time, but she'd come first, perfectly healthy.

He came next, nearly dead and stealing his mother's life in a twisted exchange.

she is his twin though and no matter how much shakes her head clucks tongue at him full of that same righteous fury all who have been cast aside have. a woman in man world.> Look down at her at your peril, because her stringent refusal to exchange her pants for skirts mean she has a greater range of movement to kick you in the gnads and clock you in the face.

-----

Their father dies in the first war. Sort of.

He came home yes, but his mind, his soul had died, trampled in the trenches.

He doesn't drink, doesn't rage and rave like some other veterans do in the streets. He becomes quieter and quieter, and every tightening coil of rage and pain until he pops.

Jacob wonders if he was worse before they came to live with him in his small flat.

(Years, decades later, he discovers that yes, he was worse, and for all his faults, he was still just a man. A man who sent his children away, knowing he was a ticking bomb, knowing how volatile he could become, living in a neverending nightmare. A man, who tried to protect his children by sending them to his late wife's elderly parents, who sent money and medicine to try to prolong his in-laws lives.

A father who, when he could no longer deny the truth, fought his demons for the chance, for the right, to raise his children, and when he was on the brink of becoming them, fled, knowing they would chase him and leave those he loved safer.

Jacob Frye reads his father's letters and diaries, and finally, finally begins to forgive. He has too much regret already.)

Usually this rage will be released in an abrupt hurling of a book or a mug at a wall. Other times, is the sudden tightness of his voice as he excuses himself from the table, strides into his room, closes the door and punches the brick wall by his bed for hours. Occasionally it's him staying in bed for days on end, further stressing his poor daughter, who does what respectable jobs she can from sympathetic neighbors in order to try to keep both men in her life alive.

The final time Jacob ever sees it happen is the final time he sees his father.

He's taking out his temper, his inextinguishable rage from constantly being bedridden on his father. He's yelling himself hoarse, his beleaguered lungs straining more and more to provide his thin blood with oxygen and his father is winding up, tighter and tighter and he's ignoring the signs and--

Suddenly, Evie is on the floor, a large bruise already appearing on her face.

The room is silent. Ethan Frye's blank eyes begin to clear and slowly fill with horror as he looks from his hand to his daughter slowly getting up (never staying down, never), keeping herself between her other half and her sire.

Their father doesn't say a word. He slowly turns, shakily gathers his coat, his wallet and a bag, that he fills with a few clothes. He picks up his hat and slowly lurches out the door.

It closes with a quiet, definitive click.

-----

The twins are twenty years old and war has broken out once again.

The country is still raw from the last war. Buildings are still settling into their rebuilt frames and new brickwork to replace the ones that had lasted centuries, only to be blown to bits by falling bombs.

"I've been drafted," Evie breathed in his ear as they lay on next to each other on his ratty bed, listening to their neighbor's radio playing the latest patriotic tune hailing King and Country.

"...what?"

"Of a sort," she murmurs. "There was a woman at the library, a regular. It turns out she's been watching me for weeks. Said I make a good fit for British Intelligence." She smiles wryly. "Apparently the noble folk call it the 'Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare', so it's perfect for a woman."

Jacob laughs so hard he causes himself a coughing fit.

-----

Her being a woman is not the reason he stands in line at the draft office, clutching his papers. Evie can protect herself. But he can't stay in bed whilst there's the chance they send his other half (his better half, Evie would snark) somewhere that he can't follow.

They were meant to be side by side, forever. Poverty and sickness had never stopped them. The Frye Twins were indomitable together, be that scrapping up money or fighting whatever group of dog-kicking fools had earned Jacob's ire.

They deny him, of course. Even in a country seemingly determined to grab every warm body, they won't take his.

So he tries again. And again.

Evie knows of course. She doesn't approve. But she knows him like she knows herself and knows he needs this--she won't stop him.

-----

"Why do you try so hard to fight?" An old man with a German accent asks him after he's been scolded and threatened by yet another draft officer and been kicked out to the mocking chuckles and pitying looks of other, stronger men.

How can he explain the crushing fear of loneliness looming in the distance, the horror of a life of possible solitude when he's never been alone since conception? The fear that his twin may not come back, or worse, come back the same way their father did? The anger at his helplessness, the pride he feels for his sister, the longing for a destiny that he knows is greater than the one he forsees?

"Someone has to," is what he goes with instead.

The old man smiles.

-----

What Erkstine describes is fantastical, impossible, ridiculous and possibly deadly.

Jacob is immediately on board.

"This will hurt," Erkstine warns as they strap him into the coffin-like machine and eject him with pale blue chemicals.

-----

It really, really, really bloody hurts.

-----

He emerges a head taller than his twin and rippling with muscle. Men feel his chiseled chest and bulging biceps, murmuring to each other in awe.

She pushes her way to the front, ignoring caustic glares at her audacity. She clasps his arm and smirks mischievously. "Looks like you hit a growth spurt, brother."

His straightened and dazzling new teeth gleam in the spotlights of the lab. "Jealous, sister?"

"Hardly," she scoffs, trying to cover the glimmer of tears welling in her eyes at the sight of her healthy, happy alive sibling. "Muscles wither, dear brother, but I was still first."

"By four minutes! That doesn't even--"

Gunshots ring out.

-----

Erskine is dead, the formula to creating a thousand great knights is lost with him.

The higher-ups are furious. They debate his fate in front of him, acting as if he isn't even there. To him, he is a low-blood expensive pet project that they can never recreate. He has little to no formal training, comes from Whitechapel, of all places...he is socially worthless.

-----

On one hand, they give him a knighthood for his service to the Empire--Good job they seem to say. You didn't die the ethically dubious dangerous experiment in service to the country.

On the other hand, they dress him up in a cheap costume designed to look like a modern day knight, color it red, white and blue, and use him as a propaganda symbol. Sir Britain they call him, putting his cowled face on posters encouraging people to buy war bonds and sign up for service. He stars in commercials, gives pre-written speeches on the radio.

He hates it. He hates it even more when they fly him out near the front and have him pose with real troops, like his very presence will help fill empty stomachs and block bullets.

It's on one of these trips near occupied Poland that he hears more about the about the mysterious Hydra group, who murdered Erkstine, who controls the Nazis. He hears about whispers of another group that controls even them, one centuries old. He hears about how an entire regiment is captured by Nazis wielding futuristic, Asimov weapons.

He hears about the three ESO agents were with the regiment and how while one was found dead, the other two, a Polish man and an English woman, are missing, presumably captured.

He demands to know the woman's name, feeling the twisting in his gut that already knows. They hem and haw before they finally admit her identity.

Evie Frye.

-----

He doesn't know how to fly a plane.

Luckily, the angry Scottish mechanic, fired for having dared point out the head engineer was letting shoddy work go through, for speaking up despite being a woman, does.

"Names Agnes Macbean," she yells over the racket of the old two-seater's engine. "Ain't this a way to go out, eh? Sticking it to the Nazis!"

-----

It is embarrassingly easy to sneak into the Hydra base. He's so much faster and stronger than the average man now, and the brass knuckles certainly help.

Most of the men he finds imprisoned but Evie isn't with them.

Instead, he finds her in a lab straight out of a pulp novel, full of blinking lights and needles with strange chemicals.

(Nazis and military officers would say they decided to experiment with a version of the serum on her because it worked so well on Jacob, and genetically speaking, there was no one on earth as similar to him than his twin.

Jacob and the men who were imprisoned would say they used her first because it was she who rallied them into rousing chants of defiance, who, when backhanded by a sneering soldier, proceeded to blind him with her own spit blood, knee him in the groin, and headbutt him unconscious.)

She's only half-conscious when he pulls her from the chair, but she's still a crack shot and able to hold her own beside him as they fight through soldiers, elites, and a strange, powerful Hydra officer known only as Roth.

-----

Afterwards, the higher-ups give him training and his own elite squad. It's as much a punishment as it is a reward: he's no expert fighter, and his what he's allowed to pick isn't what's considered the cream of the crop.

To him, it's perfect.

He gets three ESO agents: Evie and two men: one, a Ned Wynert, is rumored to have run a corner of England's black market prior to the war breaking out. The other, Robert Topping is a fast-talking former bookie and carnie, with a penchant for ridiculous hats and getting through nearly any lock.

Agnes is brought on as the team's engineer and mother hen and she quickly gains some assistants in the form of former street urchins: a clumsy lad named Nigel and a sly, cunning young code-cracker named Clara.

They get a discharged soldier named Abberline, who is as honorable as he is resilient. A couple of brothers, Billy and Dennis Strum, children of Jamaican immigrants and expert riflemen. Durand Boucher, a beast of a Frenchman with delicate fingers and talent for explosions.

They're the diamonds in the rough, the unappreciated and overlooked. Some, jokingly, mockingly, call them the Knights of the Crooked Table.

Jacob Frye, Sir Britain himself, calls them his Rooks, to his sister's audible dismay.

Mission after mission, fight after fight, the Rooks succeed. Bases are raised, no-man lands taken. Sir Britain is a whirlwind on the battlegrounds, wielding pistols and knuckles, his arms covered in gauntlets made with a rare, unbreakable metal and painted with the flag of the Motherland. Evie is at his back, sometimes with her own pistol and throwing knives, other times crouched in a tree for days on end, guiding and clearing the way with her sniper rifle. Robert wears such bright clothing that he's practically invisible when he forgives them to sneak into enemy territory, Ned is able to self-talk and turn many a soldier with the promise of money for intelligence. Agnes can turn even military rations palatable, and hotwire Nazi trucks with a speed the belies her large frame. The brothers are crack shots at impossible distances, Durand, capable of turning nearly anything into a bomb. Abberline is a long-suffering sort who gets along swell with Evie, and has a poorly hidden soft-spot for Clara and Nigel.

They are an unstoppable team.

But Hydra grows ever more powerful. A man by the name Red Skull looms like a spector, guiding the war like one would a chess match. The elites of Nazi appear with incredible armor and weapon that are difficult to defeat, nearly impossible to reverse engineer, and glow an insidious gold.

Jacob is grim, but he isn't worried. He has his team, he has his fists. He has his twin. Everything else can be overcome.

-----

And then...there's the train.

The Hydra weapons. The elite soldiers guarding the dangerous cargo. Him nearly getting killed, only to be saved as Evie fires with unerring accuracy.

The golden beam nearly tearing the train in two, the force sending his sister tumbling out.

Trying to reach for her, straining as she dangles from the side of the train over the mountain pass--

The snap as the bar gives way.

And the sight of his sister, his twin, his other half, tumbling like an errant leaf into the snow, hundreds of feet below, becoming nothing more than a black dot, then disappearing altogether, like she never existed.

He doesn't remember if he screamed her name. He probably did.

(Honestly, he had probably stood there gaping in horror instead of doing something, instead of lunging after her, following after like he'd done all their lives. Like he should have done. Like it was supposed to be.

He thinks this because there are many moments where he should have said something, where he wants to scream...and doesn't, too overwhelmed, too broken:

The first time he woke up in a new century, taken from his frozen coffin by a mysterious Brotherhood.

The first time he realizes that everyone he knows is dead.

The time when he goes to the British History Museum and discovers monuments and exhibits to him...and only him. His friends, his family, his Rooks, his sister...regulated to footnotes.

And of course the moment that he fights a deadly assassin on a rooftop in the dead of night, one who killed a member of the Brotherhood he will call his own. An assassin just as strong and as fast as he. An assassin who goes by many monikers the world over, the bogeywoman of the Creed:

The Creed Killer. The Winter Huntress.

Well, no. That's a lie. He does say something.

In that moment where he fights this impossibly skilled assassin of assassins, when he struggles against the strength and tricks contained within her left, silver arm. When he knocks her mask off, and the face looking back at his is achingly familiar and as improbably young as his own, covered in a legion of freckles and holding artic blue eyes in a too blank face.

He does speak then.

"...Evie?"

"...who on earth is Evie?")

-----

The eventual battle with Roth, with Red Skull is a blur. He fights with that same raging fury in his heart, but he still feels...empty. Cold. Even seeing Roth try to harness the power of the mysterious golden artifact, only for it to overwhelm him and wreath him in ethereal flames draws only a grim satisfaction from him.

It's when he is behind the controls of the futuristic plane holding legions of bombs capable of turning all of America to ash that his thoughts crystallize with abrupt clarity.

One Frye died to the cold and ice. It's only fitting that the other should as well.

Or blazing fire, should the bombs go off on impact.

Either way, he'll be going home.

The water rushes in, the cabin shudders and he welcomes the piercing darkness with a smile on his face.

#Crossover #AC Syndicate #Marvel #Ubisoft #drabble #The Frye Twins #Evie Frye #Jacob Frye #Jacob becomes Sir Britain #Evie still becomes an assassin #sort of

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orthodoxydaily · 4 years

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Saints&Reading: Tue., Sept. 22, 2020

Holy ancestors of God; Joaquim and Anna

ommemorated on September 9

Righteous Saint Joakim, son of Barpathir, was a descendant of King David, to whom God had revealed that from the descendants of his line would be born the Saviour of the world. Righteous Saint Anna was the daughter of Matthan and through her father she was of the tribe of Levi, and through her mother – of the tribe of Judah. The spouses lived at Nazareth in Galilee. They were childless into their old age and all their life they grieved over this. They had to endure derision and scorn, since at that time childlessness was considered a disgrace. But they never grumbled and only but fervently prayed to God, humbly trusting on His will. Once during the time of a great feast, the gifts which Righteous Joakim took to Jerusalem for offering to God were not accepted by the priest Ruben, who considered that a childless man was not worthy to offer sacrifice to God. This pained the old man very much, and he, regarding himself the most sinful of people, decided not to return home, but to settle in solitude in a desolate place. His righteous spouse Anna, having learned, what sort of humiliation her husband had endured, in prayer and fasting began sorrowfully to pray to God for granting her a child. In his desolate solitude and with fasting Righteous Joakim also besought God for this. And the prayer of the saintly couple was heard: to both of them an Angel announced, that there would be born of them a Daughter, Who would bless all the race of mankind. By order of this Heavenly Messenger, Righteous Joakim and Anna met at Jerusalem, where through the promise of God was born to them the Daughter, named Mary. Saint Joakim died a few years later after the Entry into the Temple of his Blessed Daughter, at about age 80. Saint Anna died at age 70, two years after him, spending the time in the Temple alongside her Daughter.

Galatians 5:11-21

11And I, brethren, if I still preach circumcision, why do I still suffer persecution? Then the offense of the cross has ceased.12 I could wish that those who trouble you would even cut themselves off!13 For you, brethren, have been called to liberty; only do not use liberty as an opportunity for the flesh, but through love serve one another.14 For all the law is fulfilled in one word, even in this: "You shall love your neighbor as yourself."15 But if you bite and devour one another, beware lest you be consumed by one another!16 I say then: Walk in the Spirit, and you shall not fulfill the lust of the flesh.17 For the flesh lusts against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh; and these are contrary to one another, so that you do not do the things that you wish.18 But if you are led by the Spirit, you are not under the law.19 Now the works of the flesh are evident, which are: adultery, fornication, uncleanness, lewdness,20 idolatry, sorcery, hatred, contentions, jealousies, outbursts of wrath, selfish ambitions, dissensions, heresies,21 envy, murders, drunkenness, revelries, and the like; of which I tell you beforehand, just as I also told you in time past, that those who practice such things will not inherit the kingdom of God.

Mark 7:5-16

5Then the Pharisees and scribes asked Him, "Why do Your disciples not walk according to the tradition of the elders, but eat bread with unwashed hands?" 6 He answered and said to them, "Well did Isaiah prophesy of you hypocrites, as it is written:'This people honors Me with their lips, But their heart is far from Me.7 And in vain they worship Me, Teaching as doctrines the commandments of men. 8 For laying aside the commandment of God, you hold the tradition of men -the washing of pitchers and cups, and many other such things you do.9 He said to them, "All too well you reject the commandment of God, that you may keep your tradition.10 For Moses said, 'Honor your father and your mother'; and, 'He who curses father or mother, let him be put to death.'11But you say, 'If a man says to his father or mother, Whatever profit you might have received from me is Corban"-' (that is, a gift to God),12 then you no longer let him do anything for his father or his mother,13 making the word of God of no effect through your tradition which you have handed down. And many such things you do.14 When He had called all the multitude to Himself, He said to them, "Hear Me, everyone, and understand:15 There is nothing that enters a man from outside which can defile him; but the things which come out of him, those are the things that defile a man.16 If anyone has ears to hear, let him hear!

#orthodox #orthodoxchristian #ancientchristianity #firstchristian #spirituality #holyscriptures #gospel #sacred texts #wisdom

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tesruinedmylife · 4 years

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6 for all your ocs, 25 for any in the dark brotherhood!

This one took me way longer than it should have, i'm sorry! It was a lot of fun though

6. Does your oc have a family of origin? How many members of their FoO are still living? Do they have a good relationship? How much contact does your oc have with their FoO? How in-the-loop is your oc's FoO about your oc being Dragonborn/HoK/Nerevarine?

Isa grew up as the only child in a rather wealthy noble Breton family, yet her youth wasn't the most ideal one, which strongly affected her relationship with her relatives. Her father always acted cold and distant (mostly because he wasn't her biological parent, which she didn't know), her mother was all nervous and angry around her, and they both made her believe that if she didn't fulify their every wish, she would never escape this situation. As one could imagine, after she stole a significant amount of money from them and ran away, their relationship only got worse. The only time she ever spoke with them again was when, chased by the guards, she made her way into their manor and pleaded for their help, which they declined. She was sent to the Imperial Prison and they never heard from her again. Of course, the stories about Oblivion Crisis made their way to the province of High Rock, and at some point they realised the Hero of Kvatch bears the same name as their daughter, but they didn't pay it much attention - they didn't want to.

Livia's situation was a bit more complicated. She spent most of her childhood with her father, priest of Mara, until he got mysteriously murdered and she was taken in by her mother Theodosia, by that time married to a Redguard officer of the Imperial Legion. The girl had a rather good relationship with both him and his son, though she couldn't get really close to them due to Theodosia's way of bringing her up. The only member of her closest family who was still alive when she found herself in Skyrim was her step brother Aurelius, and they reunited in Solitude a few months after the Helgen incident. She was so delighted to see him, to find out that he's not dead after all, that she couldn't stop herself from telling him about everything that occured since they last met - including the fact that she found out she was the Dragonborn.

Xander and Anuyan, who spent first few years of their lives drastically different, were both adopted by a certain Nord mage, Solveig the Storm-Brought. She is very much alive (and not planning to die anytime soon), and kept quite a good contact with her sons until they ended up in the Imperial Prison. Due to the rather extreme circumstances in their lives, the family was separated for a good amount of time, until Anyuan accidentally met Xander a few years after the Oblivion Crisis. They then traveled back to their family home and reunited with Solveig, and, being the Champion of Cyrodiil and the Nerevarine, they had many stories to tell.

Elenine's closest family, on the other hand, is all good and alive. It consists of her mother and father, both well respected Sapiarchs, and her two sisters, one happily married and the other one still to young to think about her future. Since her parents couldn't provide her a place in the college as an acolyte and had a huge fight which resulted in her going on a journey to the main continent to "work independently" as she put it, their relationship got colder, but she still wrote to them regularily and received some money in exchange. She kept closer contact with her older sister, and letters to her described what was going on in Elenine's life at the moment in much more detail. As she got robbed, caught up in the Imperial ambush and thrown into the middle of the mess the province of Skyrim was, she could no longer message her family as often as she did before. The first letter she wrote to her sister some time after she found out she was the Dragonborn, and informed her about the fact - but only her. At that point she already heard much about Thalmor's wrongdoings, and, since her parents had ties to the organisation because of their high status, she stopped trusting them with anything altogheter, leave alone a sensitive information like this.

25. If your oc is part of one of the more morally questionable or outright evil factions, how do they justify it to themselves? Do they still consider themselves as morally good? How well known is their affiliation to these groups? Do they have separate personas (e.g. Dragonborn to some people, Listener to others?) Do their family/friends know? If they have seperate personas, how do they keep their less than righteous activities secret?

The deal with Isa is that with every bad thing she did in her life, her views on morality became... less and less strict. Starting on stealing from her parents, through robbing men with the Sirens gang, then killing her girlfriend's murderer and the man who hired him, ending on her joining a literal guild of assassins... Each crime eventually led to another one, and she found herself doing things she wouldn't think she is capable of - and, with time, she even stopped feeling much remorse for her actions. The Dark Brotherhood gave her a purpose, a family, power, and it made her feel like she was in control of her life - even if at the cost of theoretical "goodness". The situation changed after Lucien's death, though, and she only fulified her duties as the Listener to honor his memory. By joining the Blades and helping Martin she tried to "redeem" herself to some extent, but she never started thinking of herself as morally good. She was still lying, after all, to everyone: not a single person outside of the Dark Brotherhood recognised her as the Listener, and she took very careful steps not to let this information slip (for example, she always visited the Night Mother's statue at night, and sent the coded information about the new contacts through a well-payed messenger).

Livia, on the other hand, joined the Dark Brotherhood because of the influence of her mother, an assassin as well. She was actually raised for it, ever since Theodosia took her in after her father's death - from a young age she trained sneaking, fighting, deceiving... She was made believe that this is the only task in her life, the only reason she was born: to serve Sithis and the Night Mother, to kill in their name, and for the sake of her family, which was tied to them by fate. It was the destiny she was prepared for and she wasn't going to question it. Part of her, the one still left from the childhood spent with her father on praying to Mara and helping the poor, the tiniest part that her mother didn't manage to root out, knew it was no good, but she tried her best to silence it completly. When it comes to her identities, she did separate them, and tried to keep both her occupation as the Listener and the Dragonborn a secret from general public - the second one being obviously harder to hide as soon as a dragon would attack a city and most people would see her absorb its soul., that is. Many people ended up finding out about it, but way less knew about her affiliation to the Dark Brotherhood - honorable mentions go to Marcurio and her brother Aurelius.

#thank you sm for these!! 💕#sorry if this doesnt make sense i am sleep deprived but got a sudden burst of inspiration i needed to answer this ask lmao #the elder scrolls #tes ocs #the last dragonborn #hero of kvatch #nerevarine

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lmonsour · 4 years

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( sarah gadon, 30, cisfemale, she/her ) Have you seen LEMON BAILEY around ? I hear they’re a PHILANTHROPIST (WANNABE VIGILANTE) who can sometimes be DOGMATIC & PHARISAICAL. But I also heard they can be INTREPID & CONVIVIAL if you catch them on a good day. They’re usually hanging around UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO in their spare time. I sure hope they’re alright !

howdy!! helloooooo!! I’m so pumped for this roleplay!! I’m hannah and I live in the central timezone! 24 and ready to explore!! Nyway, hit me up for plots!! lets get rowdy.

TW: MURDER, PARRICIDE

DOGMATIC: inclined to lay down principles as indisputably true. PHARISAICAL: hypocritically self-righteous and condemnatory. INTREPID: resolutely fearless; dauntless. CONVIVIAL: cheerful and friendly; jovial.

pinterest (TW: blood, teeth, knives, guns)

whispers batman

anyway

lemon was born to some wealthy, powerful parents! like I’m talking –– had their own estate, their name was printed on everything –– rich. they were old money based out of orange county, ca. never needed nor wanted for anything growing up, except maybe some attention. as the problem often lies for children of affluent families, affection was hard to come by in the bailey household. sure, they could pretend all they liked in front of others, but truly ––– lemon was a lonely, unloved child.

she had no siblings and was home-schooled with a hired tutor, so ultimately the girl had quite the isolated upbringing. not being socialized with children her own age, lemon became... a strange child.

the tutor, on numerous occasions, was left baffled by the girl’s behavior. on several occasions, the older woman had recommend to her parents that the young girl attend therapy. the baileys, ever concentrated on their public appearance, got rid of the tutor, not wanting the world to know that their “perfect” princess was broken. and with the only person who truly cared out of her life, lemon continued on the path of solitude.

college was quite the wake up call. lemon moved away to study at university of southern california. with the minimal knowledge on making friends and acquaintances that she had, the girl struggled her first semester. that spring, she decided to rush as the school was big on greek life. with rich parents and a pretty face, she was quickly recruited into a sorority. lemon would study her sisters and learn to become more of a charming and charismatic person. it was all an act, of course. fake it till you make it, right?

she met brandon at a swap one evening. she was immediately besotted with him. no person, male or female, had given her such attention before!! she felt fulfilled by the other and grew obsessed with the other, craving his presence like a drug. it was he who convinced her that her family had wronged her. although they had given her everything, she would never be normal because of the lack of parental nurturing. the young woman was easy to manipulate and soon she was wrapped around the man’s finger. she’d do anything he ask. even kill her own parents.

it had been easier than lemon could have ever imagined. the killing had been the simplest part of all the plan. and deep down inside, she liked it. getting rid of the evidence and thus, the bodies had been the complicated part of the plan. in fact, it didn’t pan out like brandon had planned and was caught with the bodies in his trunk. the young man tried to take the girl down with him, but the family lawyer was a sly one and managed to get lemon out. she HADN’T been involved, after all, despite what brandon (the liar) said.

she was the last living bailey, so she inherited everything. the new benefactor of the estate and now billionaire at the age of twenty. but lemon no longer wanted an easy life, not the one she was expected to have, at least. she wanted to make a difference, wanted to help. and in her twisted little head, becoming a vigilante was the answer.

for years after, she trained and trained and trained. hired the best to teach her everything from guns to hand-to-hand combat to seduction.

her marks tend to be men who have wronged women in some way or another. she doesn’t want other girls to be in the position she was in. but also, wants a hand in the punishment and retribution. she has a weird sense of justice?? like sometimes she goes way too far for simple things?? tends to be very hypocritical because she believes that while she is not spotless in her sins, that she’s the only one capable of bringing righteousness back to this world.

she’s currently in chicago because one of the professors at the university has picked up quite the record of avoiding consequences. many girls have come forward, claiming misconduct from the man, but again and again, he manages to get away with only a slap on the wrist. not her first case and certainly not her last, the bailey woman moved east to fix this wrong, all in the guise of the new opening of a charity!!

her hair’s bleached!! almost no color to it! but her natural color is a darker shade of blonde so she really has to stay on top of it. a way to tell if she’s doing well is to judge the roots of her hair. if she’s out “on the job”, her hair is in tight twin french braids. always, without fail. its a superstitious thing for her. but nonetheless, stay out of her way as this particular hairstyle is a bad omen of whats to come or has already been done.

likes to use knives but mostly stick to guns with silencers or a sniper rifle!!

TLDR: she’s basically trying to be batman, but has too much harley quinn in her to ever be truly good. and by good, I do mean both morally and whether she’s actually suited for this line of work. she’s a bit too unhinged to be trusted. a chaotic neutral, if you will. her story was highly publicized so your muse may recognize her but for the most part, she’s known for her charity work, her rubbing elbows with celebrities and politicians.

#&&intro.#&&about.#crimson.intro #this is absolute garbage but I finally have it uuuuup

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nam-imperii · 5 years

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The Tullius Family in my Skyrim

We start in Oblivion actually.

Lysayne, not a Tullius, Dark Brotherood top assassin and future Listener. Lucien lives because I'm a clichè who wants nice things (i still have to work on how she becomes the Listener but the general concept is that Lysayne stops the purification). Lysayne x Lucien

Gonna change the order of quests so the killing of the guy in the imperial prison happens after she becomed Listener, it's just a general contract she's doing but then she has to play prisoner when the frikking Emperor of Tamriel shows up.

She's not sure she deserves all this heroism stuff but of course after what happened she goes to search for Jauffre asap and the main questline starts. Lysayne x Lucien becomes Lucien x Lysayne x Martin because as I said I'm a clichè bastard and of course Lucien steps in to help Lysayne when things escalate. Main quest goes as normal and Lysayne goes in a bit of depression after Martin dies

She's pregnant omygod but they dont know if its Martin or Lucien the father of course the Empire would be like super interested in the baby but Lysayne wants to kinda avoid any association with the elder council now because she fears she'll lose the baby like she lost Martin

She marries an imperial legionarie who distinguished himself in the battles of Bruma and Imperial City in exchange for the Blades promise to hide her son, the Elder Council makes the new Lysayne Tullius, wife of Tiberio Tullius, Countess of the rebuilding Kvatch but she spends all the time with Lucien, then the baby is born and some time after that she becomes Sheogorath, which is know by the Blades who completely hide the baby from Lucien too (Lucien is of course heartbroken)

They probably get all reunited when Lucien dies and he's in the Void, Martin in Aetherius and Lysayne in the Shivering Isles. Little consolation

Anyway the baby is given to Tiberio Tullius -which is a decent enough man and accepts to fake it was Lysayne and himself son-

Pre-Great war Marcus Tullius (our General Tullius in Skyrim) is the heir to Country Kvatch but he doesn't care much. He has no patience for politics and in the rising years of the Thalmor he wants to join the Legion. His parents agree on the condition that he will give them an heir because they dont want to lose the "we are the HoK descendeants" honor, Marcus agrees. He's not a very present husband but it's what you can expect from a marriage of convenience.Valania Tullius is born, Marcus join the Legion and for when the Great War happens he's General. He has a second son he calls Octavian around the end of the war or right after that. Everyone knows his story from that

Valania Tullius proves herself talented in enchanting, illusion and alteration. She's probably the most suited of her family to ruling and nobility life but she still leaves to study at the College of Winterhold (in fact, she's the first Tullius to arrive in Skyrim) and spends years there. The title of Count/Countess of Kvatch fall in the hands of some distant cousin probably. She does the College of Winterhold questline, rebuilds the College as Arch-Mage and other magic related quests like Shalidor Labyrinth, helping Neloth and the Undeath mod questline on the good guys side/stopping the ritual. She usually travels with Teldryn Sero as bodyguard and love interest while she fights with alteration and illusion (Apocalypse Magic mod)

Valania is a very high-class lady being born in nobility but years and year in Skyrim made her understand nords very well, altought not always LIKE them. She loves elegancy and cyroodiil habits and has an account opened with Radiant Raiment, visting them when she's in Solitude and having clothes and jewels sended to her from Cyrodiil. She has also an habit to address people as "My dear" but despite her spoiled appereance she's very adaptable and takes no shit. She coul swim in a pool of mud in an ancient ruin and look dignified. As Archmage she exchange letters with all court mages and other magical institutions. She has also a strong momma instinct

Octavian Tullius is her younger brother. He knows magic too but only fire magic and only in a military use. Like his father, he's a soldier of the Imperial Legion, unlike General Tullius, he craves power and promotions. Despite this tho he's honestly loyal to the Empire, thinks the cause is righteous and can be very rutless with who takes arms agains the Empire but his ambition will not make him betray the Empire or his values

Like he can put rebels corpses as example and then go to help this random farmer who has nothing to pay him back because it's the right thing to do. He simply has an abit to demonize who takes arms against the Empire. At the same, he wants promotion and will plot to take power in the ranks but if he has to choose between saving the Emperor with his body and letting him die and become Emperor he will take the blade for him because that's HIS emperor and he swore loyalty and DAD HAS RAISED NO QUITTER

Out of legion affairs he has "bitchy bastard" or "helpful" as only moods. Or horny pansexual idiot. Would totally drink a coup of milk in the middle of Windhelm

Gives the Forsworns back their land with King Madanach in exchange for Forsworn accepting to be yes indipendent from Skyrim but still a province of the Empire and their magical support in the next great war, Madanach accepts because Madanach is smart and why the fuck should he care about Tiber Septim worship being outlawed anyway

It's Octavian a good person? MEH. That's up for debate I suppose, but he generally does always good things for Tamriel, from stopping Lord Harkon with the Danwguards to put the bleeding province back under peace and normal life which is what the average nord farmer Jim wants

Dragonborn canon suck so Octavian ruins Hermeus Mora plans. Octavian and Mora are direct enemies, Octavian has a good relationship with Meridia, he did not interacted with other princes (he has done the Namira quest but he never talked with Namira becasue has soon as all the cannibals were reunited he killed them and saved the priest) (Also Molag Bal isn't around from ESO here, he's been replaced by @the-sixth-house-unmourned prince oc)

Disliked Serana a lot at the start of Dawnguard but now they're friends and he admires her a lot gonna call it character development when he stops trying to murder all undeads on sight.

Had a duel against Ulfric

Ironically, he was kinda scared to become a new Ulfric when he discovered himself the Dragonborn. Phaarturnax helped him discovering how to search for personal power/ambition without being consumed by his dragon soul

His back is covered in long scars after the final battle against Alduin

And that's all I think, my Skyrim worldspace has some differences from game Skyrim because I like lore despite considering canon an optional guide so I consider things like the old nordic pantheon and the original cities and climates that Skyrim had in Arena. But I'll probably make another post about that

#the elder scrolls #skyrim #oblivion #imperial legion #skyrim empire #oc: valania tullius #oc: octavian tullius #oc: lysayne

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laityashes · 5 years

Text

The Adventures of Batgirl and Supergirl

Chapter 3

Leaning on the crystal rail of the balcony, Kara is transfixed upward into the darkness of the night sky. The stars glisten in a bright luxuriance. The inhospitable arctic of the Fortress of Solitude preserves a sky undesecrated by the lights of human civilization.

The kryptonian's gaze is enraptured by LHS 2520, a star in the Corvus Constellation. A red dwarf star so meaningless to scientists it's simply denoted by letters and numbers. Not worthy of being given an earthly name, only nominal enough to categorized and cataloged in some obscure astronomical journal. LHS 2520 located 27.1 light years away from Earth. A star that once held her whole world, but is now no more than small star that unaided human eye can not even see. Even with the vision granted to her by the yellow radiance of Sol, her own vision only sees a small glistening speck in the black abyss.

"Rao, Mighty and Eternal, I pray you earnestly cast your light upon the steps of Aunt Astra. Let your light illuminate the path of the righteous." Kara spoke aloud, her native tongue sounding foreign to her ears.

With a dejected sigh, the faux-millennial turns her gaze to the rough waters of the arctic sea. Before she goes back inside, she breathes in of the unique scent of the air outside the Fortress of Solitude. Once back inside the fortress, she goes through her bedtime routine, before finally taking the sleeping pills she and Kalex had concocted to assist her with falling asleep.

With her blonde tresses splaying across her pillow, Kara aches in her sleep. Her legs vigorously kicking the blanket from her body. She tosses and turns in the midst of a nightmare.

Upon her arrival to planet earth, feeling lost alone, and so afraid, she clung to her memories of Krypton. She clung to memories of their traditions. However, as the years passed, little details about her culture, and her parents, would slowly disappear. She couldn’t remember if her dad had an upturned nose, or if he would get dimples when he smiled. Little things would be devoured by this new planet she was forced to live on. New faces obstructing her recollection from memorizing her parent’s features.

With the loss always at the forefront of her mind, an image of her parents decorates the crystal wall above her bed. The image is reassuring. It captures her parents features where her memory starts to fail. Her room is similar to the one she had on krypton. It was round in shape, and even had similar steps that descended down towards the floor.

Kara, staying true to who was, manufactured a way to access images of her relatives. These images could be accessed through a hologram projector she and Kalex had built. She could even access Jor-El's Memory Hologram from Kal-EL's pod. Currently, while she slumbered, the hologram projector displayed an image of Rao. The projector had the capabilities to even mimic the red star’s rays if Kara desire it.

The little robot servant, Kalex, contained in his programming scores of recorded Kryptonian music. And, he would joyfully play different songs for her. He even celebrates Kryptonian holidays with her, and guides her through prayers she may have forgotten. The fortress was Kara’s only solace from the confusion that surrounded her on planet earth. The sanctuary for where she could be who she was, or at least what she use to be.

Following in Clark's footsteps, Kara pursued Journalism in college. She graduated college with a degree in Marketing and Journalism. And with her connection to Clark Kent, Kara landed a job CatCo. Clark had simply flashed his sheepish grin at Cat Grant, and, viola, Kara had been given a chance by Cat Grant. A one week chance, to be precise, and if she did not perform, Cat Grant vowed to fire her. By he end of the week, Cat Grant was smitten with her docile, and people-pleaser, of an assistant.

Unfortunately, Cat Grant, and her keen sense, was the reason for why Kara required an apartment in National City. She was why Kara kept up the appearance of living in National City. The Queen of Media would no doubt be suspicious if Kara had a P.O. box address on her drivers license or as her home address in her employment paperwork.The loft in National city was spacious, had abundant natural lightning, but it never felt like home. Never felt even remotely like to krypton compared to the Fortress.

Recently, the herone has learned when her pod had crash to Earth so had Fort Rozz. She had somehow led them out of the phantom zone with her and onto this planet. To add to her abd hand, all those prisoners were sentenced there by her mother. It was part of why Kal-El had set her up in a nearby orphanage when he found out, instead of keeping her with him. He wanted to keep her safe from the prisoners at Fort Rozz. Unfortunately, one of the prisoners on Fort Rozz was none other than her aunt. Secrets spilled from her aunts lips that pierced Supergirl`s already tattered heart. Now, Kara couldn't even bring herself to look at her mother's memory crystal. Her family was not the noble house she was led to believe it was. on top of that, her Aunt was set on taking over plant earth in some misguided ecological righteousness.

Aliens.

Bruce was right, they`re a wild card.

Maniacs are one thing. Flying aliens bent on mind control, definitely not the way Alex thought the week was going to go. Drug lords, crazy murderers, Eco-terrorist, and all the other filth in Gothem, that was a given. Rarely have they ever encountered an alien predicament in Gothem. It just wasn't a thing.

After Narrowly dodging a pair of heat vision beams, Alex is once again that day thankful for Bruce's insistence upon the rigorous training. Training to be prepared for scenarios like this. As Batman predicted, She couldn't always rely on her stealth to be her winning hand, not when her enemy could see through walls or even smell her from miles away. Let alone, fly faster than a speeding bullet...

After ducking again, and strands of her hair being singed, the red-head rolled behind a pillar. A red and blue blur in her puerperal vision caught Batgirl's attention.

"Astra, please, stop this," Came a familiar voice. Superman's Protegee coming to the rescue. Alex would've been lying if she said she wasn`t relieved to see the super.

"Little one, stand aside. I don't want to hurt you," the Kryptonian general replied. Her eyes glowing red hot at Supergirl.

Ignoring the plea, Kara edged forward to her aunt. "Aunt Astra, please. This is wrong."

With the solar enegry fading from her eyes, Astra meets her niece halfway. Gently caresses Supergirl's cheek and tucks a blonde lock behind her ear. All the while, her eyes are cold with resolve, only softening minutely at Kara, her only surviving relative of her bloodline.

"Can't you see these humans are going to destroy their planet, much like how our people destroyed ours. I let one planet die, I will not do so again," Astra declared. "Why do you side with Kal-El? With the Humans? You deserve better." Turrning her hand over, Astra trails the back of her fingers down Kara's cheek. Her eyes searching the blonde's for some understanding. "He has no meaning of the value of blood. If he did then---"

--brightly colored balls rolled across their feet, interrupting their conversation. Rolling to a stop, the bright orbs commence in deluging the vicinity in gas.

Green gas.

Supergirl grasps at her throat. She can hardly breathe. Her form curls over in pain, the sclera of her eyes burns, and her vision blurs. As she processes what has transpired, the blonde stumbles forward latching an arm around Astra's similar arched frame. Kara strains her eyes peering for a way out. The gaseous substance is like a ghostly fog blanketing the interior of the warehouse.

"It's...thinner...this way," Kara gasps between strained breaths and points in the direction of where Alex is located.

Astra is the first to step forward, seemingly hauling Supergirl with her despite the earlier intention of the younger alien coming to the aid of the elder. Shivers similar to weak convulsions rack the blonde's frame as they stumbled toward a portion of the Wayne Enterprises facility less saturated with the aerosol.Like dry leaves falling off a tree, they inevitability fall. Kara slips from Astra's hold first, collapsing to warehouse floor with a thud. Unable to stay upright without the other, Astra falls to her knees beside her niece's prone form. Before giving into oxygen deprivation, Astra wraps her form protectively around the Girl of Steel. She slips into unconsciousness with more ease knowing she has Kara in her arms.

A bone chilling laugh echoes. Bouncing from wall to wall. A manic laugh. One which would make any in the bat-family stiffen. Images of Barbara Gordon and Jason Todd flash through Batgirl's mind. A severed spine and a beaten corpse. The hairs on her neck stand on end and unbidden chill runs down her spine.

The Joker.

This whole thing was a trap.

Suddenly, Alex's head wretched backward, and a pair of blue eyes meets her.

"Puddin', look who I found!" Harley Queen exclaims. The blonde clown wears a sickening smile of glee.

"Look at that, I got a three for two special," comes a deeper voice from behind her. Emerging from the green mist behind her in bold and brazen attire is none other than the Joker. "Batman doesn't like it when I kill his pets. Tch, tch tch, seems he hasn't learned his lesson."

Breaking out of her stupor, Alex flips Harley over her shoulder, slamming the blonde into the floor. She turns to face the psychotic man, her eyes gleam with anger. She rushes forward, a remote taser patch in hand, eager to plant it on monster before her. Only, in her dash, the Joker waves at her with a beaming smile, next thing she knows she's staring up at the ceiling, lights are spinning, and the tail end of a body hitting the floor hits her ears. Her head feels moist with something, before everything goes black.

#supergirl cw #supergirl #kara danvers #alex danvers #danvers sisters #alex and Kara danvers #sisters

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nottskyler · 5 years

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Alma 60 for our day

Behold, I direct mine epistle to Counsel of the First Presidency and the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, and also to all those who have been chosen to manage the legal and public affairs of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,

For behold, I have somewhat to say unto them by the way of condemnation; for behold, ye yourselves know that ye have been appointed to gather together and to lead and support the works of righteousness in this generation, to support and love every good thing and person on this earth, and to protect and seek out the lost sheep of scattered Israel.

And now, behold, I say unto you that myself, and also my friends, and many other children of our Heavenly Father have suffered exceedingly great sufferings; yea, the calling of rude names or by the wrong names, being silenced in Church meetings, being shunned in social activities, being told our testimonies are false, judged by members to be unrighteous, and all manner of afflictions of every kind.

But behold, were this all we had suffered, we would not murmur nor complain.

But behold, great has been the spiritual slaughter among our people; yeah, thousands have fallen away or have taken their own lives, while it might have otherwise been if they would have been permitted to partake of the healing balm of Gilead that they sought through the Church and its leaders. Yea, great has been your neglect toward us.

And now behold, we desire to know the cause of this exceedingly great neglect; yeah, wee desire to know the cause of your thoughtless state.

Can you think to sit upon your thrones in the state of thoughtless stupor, while your members are spreading the work of hatred and death among your congregations? Yea, while they are murdering the souls of thousands of your siblings- yea, even they who have looked up to you for protection and the good word of Gd, yea, have sustained and supported you in a situation that ye might have succored them, yea, ye might have had charity towards them, to have listened to their testimonies and believed them, and have saved thousands of them from falling away from truth and light.

But behold, this is not all- ye have actively persecuted them, insomuch that they feel that Gd has no love for them and have lived our their lives or cut them short in great solitude and despair because no path of joy and righteousness was presented for them; yea, and this they have done while praying to be changed and to be what everyone else wanted to be to help build up the Kingdom of Heaven, but they had no strength, because of your exceedingly great neglect towards them.

And now, my beloved brethren—for ye ought to b beloved; yea, and ye ought to have stirred yourselves more diligently for the welfare and freedom of this people; but behold, ye have neglected them insomuch that the blood of this generation shall come upon your heads for vengeance; yea, for known unto Gd were all their cried, and all their sufferings.

Behold, could ye suppose that ye could sit upon your thrones, and because ye are the leaders of His Church that ye could do nothing contrary to His will? Behold, if ye have supposed this ye have supposed in vain.

Do ye supposed that, because so many of your LGBT siblings have fallen away from the Church it is because of their wickedness? I say unto you, if ye have supposed this ye have supposed in vain; for I say unto you, there are many who Christ has led by the hand away from His Church; and behold it is to your condemnation.

For the Lord permitteth the righteous to suffer that his justice and judgment may come upon the wicked; therefore ye need not suppose that the righteous are lost due to suicide or leaving the Church, but behold they do enter into the rest of the Lord their Gd and continue His mighty work wherever they may be.

And now behold, I say unto you I fear exceedingly that the judgments of Gd will come upon this people because of their exceeding slothfulness and hatred, yea their love of praise of the world and glory and the riches, and their exceedingly great neglect to the outcast, the strangers, the people of a lower class, yea, towards all those who are different from them.

For were it not for our first wrongdoing in withholding the blessings of the Priesthood and Temple Ordinances from our black siblings, we might not have perpetuated the same sins anew in our generation.

Yea, had it not been for the pride and the desire to present a unified doctrine that caused us to perpetuate the hate of our society within the sacred halls of Christ’s restored Church; yea, at the time we relied on the arm of the flesh and would not allow ourselves to be seen as able to be lead astray. If instead we have united our strength and love to stand for the oppressed as Christ would and been true to the message of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, if we had gone forth with the charity of our hearts, if we had esteemed and listened to the sisters of our congregations, we should have succeeded in bringing hope and light to a fallen world according to the fulfilling of His word.

But behold, the progress of the Church is dammed and hatred flows throughout all the Church instead of edification. Our women and children are preaching a gospel of hate as well as the men, causing the children of Gd to suffer all manner of afflictions for they no longer recognize a Gospel of repentance and love, and this because of the great wickedness of those who lack the faith to act as Christ would, yea, those who fear the reproach of the world and of man.

But why should I say much concerning the faith of this people? For we know not but what that ye yourselves fear the reproach of the world and religious leaders, that ye lack the faith to follow Christ. We know not but what ye are also traitors to Jesus Christ.

Or is it that ye have neglected us because ye have never met an LGBT person and are surrounded by people who are only like yourself, that ye do not repent and seek to heal the saints?

Have ye forgotten the commandments of the Lord your Gd? Yea, have ye forgotten the Priesthood ban? Have ye forgotten the many times we have received further light and knowledge from the Lord?

Or do ye suppose that Lord will perform a genocide of LGBT individuals among His own flock while you sit back and tell them that they are not loved by our Heavenly Father and that there is no place for them in the highest degrees of glory?

Yea, will ye preach there is no place for them as they leave the Church and make use of the means the Lord provided for them to build up the Kingdom of Gd outside of His Church, wounded at heart for the fear that they will always be evil no matter the good they perform?

Do ye suppose that Gd will look upon you guiltless while ye sit still and behold these things? Behold I say unto you, Nay. Now I would that ye should remember that Gd has said that the inward vessel shall be cleansed first, and then shall the outer vessel be cleansed also.

And now, except ye do repent of that which ye have done to the children of Gd who are different from you and hated by society, and begin to be up and doing, and send forth comfort and strength and publicly acknowledge your wrongdoing to the Church and the world, the Church will not be able to progress.

If you do not acknowledge that the Priesthood ban and the excluding LGBT individuals for being who Gd created them to be are from the failings of men and not due to “the grand time-scheme of Gd”, behold more and more of your righteous saints will leave and seek a better place to love and serve the Lord, unable to stay in a church that preaches the gospel of hate—And this because of their exceeding faith and good words, and their patience in tribulations.

If there be even a spark of charity remaining, I ask you to turn against those who seek to persecute and destroy Christ’s followers among your supposedly unified band until the truth of Gd wins over the pride and fear.

Yea, behold I do not fear your power nor your authority, but it is my Gd whom I fear; and it is according to His commandments that I take up the pen to defend the cause of His children, and it is because of your iniquity that we have suffered so much loss.

Behold it is time, yea, the time is now at hand, that except ye do bestir yourselves to obey Gd’s commandments with exactness and abandon the love and praise of the world, the sword of justice doth hand over you; yes, and it shall fall upon you and visit you even to your utter destruction.

Behold, I wait for your response to earnestly seek truth and understanding from the testimony of LGBT saints, to come to an understanding of the evil you have perpetuated, so that you can properly repent and change; and except ye do, the saints of the Church will slowly unlearn the Gospel of repentance and the progress of the Church will cease.

For behold, the Lord will not suffer that ye shall live and wax strong in your hate to destroy His righteous people.

Behold, can you suppose that the Lord will spare you and come out in judgement against the LGBT people when they have spent years on their knees asking to be changed and delivered from the identity that prevents them from being fully embraced within the Gospel of Jesus Christ, while it is your iniquity and desire to appear unified that is preventing them from feeling the power of Christ’s Atonement?

Ye know that ye do transgress the laws of Gd, and ye do know that ye do trample the atonement of Jesus Christ under your feet.

#daily study #lgbt #church of jesus christ of latter-day saints #likening the book of mormon to our day #it's really long I'm sorry #but it was fun to write #once again I'm a coward and would never send it #but I wish I weren't

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wykart · 5 years

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Fix Her

Chapter 5 of a fic about Five and Vanya and all the tragedy surrounding them (chapter 1) (chapter 2) (chapter 3) (chapter 4)

Chapter Summary: Five has just started working for the commission and decides to pay a visit to the city where he grew up. He comes across a familiar face.

read here on ao3 or continue chapter 5 under the cut

14965 days after

It was his fourth job. Belgium. Three days. A simple locate and destroy. It was early days for him in the commission – very early. So early, that they were yet to understand what he was capable of, and tended to underestimate his abilities. Hence, he had been allocated three days for a job that took him under two hours by a miraculous partnership of happenstance and skill. And so, he had three days. Three days to walk unabided in a world that was still breathing. There was only one place that beckoned – the one place that he’d spent all his childhood dreaming of escaping. It occurred to him that he could walk right through the front doors of the academy, now or three years earlier, at the very moment he disappeared. Even if such an action wouldn’t send the commission into a murderous frenzy, pinning all their best agents on his tail, he still wouldn’t do it. The thought of Vanya searching his old face for traces of the friend she’d lost was unbearable. Most of all, he couldn’t face his father. He couldn’t face being treated like some disobedient child that had finally, finally learnt his lesson. There was no life for him back at the academy. The only thing that worried him now was preventing the apocalypse, timeline be damned. He didn’t much care for the world that would live on afterwards – it wasn’t a place meant for him. His place was the ruins, the fire and the blizzard before the trees that grew over the rusted ruins of mankind. That was where he belonged, no matter how hard he had tried to escape it. He missed Delores. He missed solitude and hopelessness and the freedom that was complete existential damnation. So he went to Griddy’s, as he used to, when the world seemed too much.

…

1095 days after

Three years. There was finality in a milestone like that. Three years, and she wasn’t a kid anymore. Three years, and it was becoming difficult to hang onto false hope. The other’s had all accepted it far sooner. Five had been too self-righteous, too self-absorbed. He’d been disobedient, and his power had consumed him, one way or the other. Her siblings threw around other ideas; that Five was living it up somewhere far away, that he’d finally gotten tired of the old man’s bullshit and left. As selfish as it was, Vanya found the latter a much heavier burden to bear. The Hargreeves children were sixteen now, and no longer children, at least by their own standards. Luther was loyal and insufferable as ever, Diego as bitter and impulsive, Allison was a teenage sweetheart and grade-A bitch, and Klaus was losing himself to a wide range of drugs and narcotics, despite Ben’s best attempts to stop him. Ben was perhaps the most restless of all, how many bodies had he racked up over the years? Certainly far more than the rest of them combined, and it haunted him. Those things he harboured were eating him up from the inside, and he seemed more distant and melancholic than he’d been even as that quiet, bookish kid. Though their father urged them onwards, the team was already showing signs of falling apart. Allison was often away in bigger, more glamorous cities, Klaus was essentially powerless, and even Diego had stopped pining over his place as number one and had instead started getting into the odd scrap on the streets and staying out far too late. Reginald only grew bitter as the rest of them fell apart, and Vanya couldn’t help but smile along as their great and powerful fantasy crumbled to the ground.

She’d managed to master the art of sneaking out over the past few years, and now she was so quick, so quiet, that Five might as well have been there, teleporting the two of them directly outside the window. Security was also far more lax nowadays, as Reginald spent most of his time pent up in his office and leaving them to their own devices, having accepted their noncompliance. He’d even stopped using the security cameras. It had taken her a while to muster the courage to sneak out on her own after Five disappeared. She got the money from Klaus, who always had some hiding somewhere that he’d stolen off dad or one of the others. He’d been too high to notice her taking it. She didn’t go as often as she and Five used to, it just wasn’t as fun, wandering the streets by yourself and living inside your own head. Tonight, her head was a particularly insufferable place to be – it was ablaze with a single, excruciating fact. He’s never coming back. So she went to Griddy’s, as she did, when the world seemed too much.

…

He looked up from his notes when the door opened, the shrill chime indicating a new customer. He went on writing feverishly, he was so close to a breakthrough.

“Hey there, kid,” the waitress called – the same waitress, he realised, though she seemed a lot friendlier now. “the usual?”

“No thanks.” And of course she picked tonight to sneak away from the academy. It had been so much easier to ignore when he’d just been passing through, so much easier to forget what it had been like to live as a person among others, among friends. Vanya Hargreeves sat herself down a few stools away, dark fringe a little longer, and swept to the side. Her voice was a little deeper, and she seemed to have hit that stage of puberty where her limbs were too long for the rest of her, and her elbows stuck out at odd angles as they rested on the counter. Sixteen. It had only been three years for her, and yet she had changed so much. “I don’t know whether I could do a jelly-donut tonight, I’ll just take a coffee.”

“Coffee?” the waitress repeated, disapproving, “isn’t it a bit late for that.”

Vanya chuckled to herself, and he couldn’t stop staring. “It’s okay, I’m not exactly planning on sleeping tonight.”

“Well,” the waitress indicated towards Five, sitting at the far end of the bar, “it seems that’s a trend tonight.” She grinned and turned to busy herself with the machine. Vanya’s eyes only flicked to him briefly as the waitress mentioned him, but there was no recognition, why would there be? He was just some sad old man alone in the city. Vanya wrung her hands and laced her fingers absent-mindedly – he didn’t remember her being so restless.

The waitress set a steaming mug of coffee down in front of her. “So, what’s the occasion? I don’t see you in here much anymore.” Vanya clasped her hands around the mug and bent her face towards the steam emanating from the top, warming herself.

“I don’t know,” she sighed, “I guess I was just feeling a little nostalgic.” Five barley managed to suppress a snort. She sounded almost as old as him. She sat in silence for a moment, sipping tentatively at her drink, until suddenly, it all must have been too much to bear alone. “Do you remember that boy, the one I used to come here with years ago?”

The waitress chuckled. “Of course I remember, the two of you here in here almost every week, laughing and having a right old time – it made things interesting for me on this lousy shift.”

Vanya smiled sadly, “yeah,” she muttered. “Well it’s been three years now, since he disappeared. I don’t think he’s ever coming back.” Her words stung, and he wished he could tell her that he was here, that he’d tried to come back, had never for a second in forty years stopped trying.

The waitress didn’t seem to know what to say. “I’m sorry, kid. I almost forgot, you’re in that umbrella club, right? They tried to keep it all hush-hush when one of the boys stopped showing up on the TV.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not in on the whole club thing, but he was. He hated it.” She took another sip of coffee. Her hands were starting to shake. “You know," she sighed, unsure of whether or not to continue, “I think he ran away and left me.” The waitress drew her lips into a hard line, clearly unsure of how to proceed. “I’m sorry for bringing that up,” Vanya said, hastily, “I just, I can’t be alone in that house, not tonight. I just needed to tell someone who wouldn’t say I was stupid for still caring.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” she said, “you come by whenever you need to.”

Vanya pressed her lips together in a hardened attempt to smile. “Thanks.” She was trembling, and not just from the coffee. He watched her reach a quivering hand into her pocket – a black overcoat instead of the old blazers they used to wear – and retrieved a zip-lock bag full of those orange and white capsules she’d taken for as long as Five could remember. She gulped one down with a sip of coffee and seemed to calm down almost immediately. She sighed, shaking out the last of those anxious jitters.

The next few minutes were some of the most tense and difficult of his life. There was an overwhelming urge to say something, to reveal himself, but he knew that doing so would only make things worse. Not only would commission lackeys be sent after him to covertly snuff him out once he was out of the way – but it would make things so much worse for Vanya. She’d be happy and heartbroken all at the same time – they’d been meant to grow up together. She’d want him to stay, but he couldn’t – and not just because of the commission – because of the others, because of his father. He couldn’t help but feel like every passing second was time wasted, the person he’d been fighting to get back to all this time was as unreachable as ever, and it broke him.

After a while, he couldn’t stand to be there any longer, and he couldn’t concentrate on his equations with all the tumultuous thoughts racing through his mind. All those years spent alone, he thought it had numbed him, made him better, stronger, emotionless. Turns out, he’d only learned to block it out, he’d only pushed all of those feelings away under his purpose of preventing the apocalypse. Now, all of those feelings that had been stewing away inside for decades finally bubbled to the surface, all the things that he’d hidden away because they’d been too painful to consider.

He stowed away his notebook – he’d plastered paper over the original cover, considering that Vanya hadn’t yet written the autobiography that he was holding – and picked up his briefcase. He gave the waitress a curt nod as he left the shop, and the shrill chiming of the door as he opened it caused Vanya to look up from her coffee. They met eyes for a moment – an awkward encounter with a total stranger, and the painful reunion of two friends, all at once. He straightened his suit jacket and stepped off into the night, trying not to think abut all the hours he spent racing along here as a child, showing off. He thought that coming back to his home city might bring him some comfort, reaffirm his goal to save his family – but all it did was remind him just how much he’d changed, just how much the world he had known didn’t recognise what he’d become. All it did was remind him that he didn’t belong anywhere but amongst the ashes he’d spent his life trying to escape.

#fix her #tua #the umbrella academy #ao3 #fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #number five #five hargreeves #vanya hargreeves

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catch22inareddress · 6 years

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Stolen Choices: Chapter One: Cindered Conscience

Summary: TRIGGER WARNINGS: Domestic Abuse

From a young age, you were thrown into a life that you despised by people that made choices for you. When the first opportunity to make your own arrises would you make the right one? Or would you sign your own death warrant?

After years of having your decisions taken away from you, it's time for you to take your rights back. It started with going to SHIELD and handing over HYDRA secrets that your husband left behind when he left the county in hiding. Little did you know that Captain America would step in and start making the decisions for you. By SHIELDS orders, you were to help him infiltrate your social circle as your new security detail in hopes of gaining access to your husband.

Just when you thought you were done playing the pawn in a never-ending game of chess, it turns out you have a few more moves to make.

As you paced your penthouse apartment and took in all of the luxurious surroundings, the only thing emotion that you could feel was disgust. While you never wanted this life and all of the things that came with it you still utilized everything and it made you sick. Every arrangement made to this point was made in your best interest, or so it was said. Your finishing school and all of your training to be the perfect subject. The perfect prize, the perfect specimen to walk hand in hand to every ball, auction, or meeting by his side.

You were orphaned at a young age and your cruel uncle found a lucrative interest in you and your beauty. While you thought you were just ordinary with all of your other attributes to the blue blood and your education you were the purebred partner. He protected you at high cost and kept you under lock and key to maintain every bit of pureness; then you were handed off to a finishing school and so on. At 18 you were auctioned off to the highest bidder, your current, and only husband. To you utter delight he was in hiding, and you refused to follow, but in your solitude, you found...secrets. Many many secrets. You knew that your time away from Henry would be short-lived and this was your chance to finally be free from him and his HYRDA affiliates. During his extended leave you had found a vast collection of information on the empire, and while you knew he was into the life in the underworld, you had no idea how deep it went. The images were burned into your brain, and you were determined to help in whatever way that you could. There were too many innocent lives that had been murdered and killed. How could you stand by? You were ashamed that you had never tried to find out before, but he was always there, lurking with a heavy hand.

You were ashamed to say that you were also hopeful that with everything that you were going to give them they would be more than willing to provide you with a new life. It was an easy decision, right? The problem was this was the first decision that was ever sincerely yours.

You paced your room even considering the risk of leaving the safety of the suite. Although you knew that whether you stayed in your fabricated fortress of solitude or left the walls, you husband Henry could gain access to you either way and then the abuse would begin again. For now, you served a purpose with the other wives and partners; to maintain appearances in the absence of those who were elsewhere working for the cause. You felt the bile rise up and knew.

You grabbed the hard drive and went down to the garage and took toward the Stark tower, praying that you had enough of a head start ahead of your bodyguards. With your nerves going haywire and your heart beating you knew you had to drive like the devil through the city to have any chance. You wove in and out of traffic knowing that you would never escape but clinging to the little bit of hope that this was your only chance and it just had to work.

The intercom in your car went off. "Mrs. Abbott, please stop. There is nowhere to go!" You cut off the coms and knew as you approached the tower that you would never be able to run inside. The benefit of Henry being a tyrant is that there was no way your guards had informed him that you were on the run if so they knew they would be dead before dawn. You began honking the horn and people scattered about as you crashed through the front glass wall. Stark employees came running over but you couldn't hear what they said before the abyss claimed you.

You awoke to a soft-spoken man with dark hair who called for Tony and Fury to come in to see the new patient. From what he said his name was Dr. Banner, and he was kind and timid and you felt at ease in his presence. That was swiftly exchanged for solid testosterone when Stark and Fury entered the room to your silent objection.

Fury was the first in and was slightly heated in his monologue. "So, you're Mrs. Henry Abbott?" You slightly nodded while you head screamed at the movements even with the good doctor's painkillers. "Yes. I apologize for the scene below, and I hope no one was injured. I --Just had to get away from my ---Henry's goons." They both looked between one another quizzically. "I would say that isn't a problem as they have been killed. They tried to pull you from the crash and Bucky--Sargeant Barnes went into combat with them, and he and Black Widow killed them before bringing you here." Your eyes lit up while you processed the information. "So...Henry still doesn't know that I'm here." Tony shook his head. "Certain of it. And why are you here?" He was patient and kind which was a contrast to Fury's intimidating stance, which genuinely did nothing to you. You have spent 8 years with Henry and a lifetime with a sadistic Uncle. This was a cakewalk of sorts.

"I have something for you. .." You handed him the drive with all of the digital information you had found on HYRDA and proceeded to tell the men your brief history with Henry and how the drive came about. You knew he was a horrible man but this was the proof you needed, and these people were the closest thing to salvation for someone like you.

Soldier by Bishop Briggs-Link ( I wanted this song to portray how tired Steve is of the battle. Please listen to this song and watch this girl kick ass edit. You’ll thank me later!!!)

Another mission had come and gone and more lives lost to tormentors and persecutors alike. Cut off one head, and two more shall take its place. That's the burden that claimed the Cap at the moment. The title, the name, the team. All of it. He was battle weary and knew that he couldn't take anymore. As he finally dressed and cleaned himself up from the latest long and grueling mission, he found Tony and Fury in his quarters in in-depth discussion. He knew why they were there and didn't want to talk about it right now, he just wanted a moment of damn peace in this hell hole.

"Really?? I just got back." He let out in an annoyed huff to the two men. They broke away from their deep conversating. "If this is about my resignation, save it. My mind is made up."

Tony was about to speak, but Fury stopped him with his hand. "Hear me out, Cap." Steve sat down and put his elbows to rest on his knees and silently waited for Fury to continue. "One last mission. Then...if you want you can leave. Live a life anywhere you want, away from the fight. But we need you now." Steve scoffed at the proposition knowing that it was too good to be true but knowing that he couldn't turn them down. He couldn't turn down the look of desperation in his friends' eyes as they asked for his help and it pissed him off to no end. "Shit. What is it?"

Fury smirked and Tony sat in the chair next to him. "Turns out we have a young wife in the med bay. Married to HYRDA head and she'd got a shit ton of intel that she just handed over, but she needs our help and we need time." He couldn't contain his aversion to the idea of a woman who was only helping to save her hyde but the prospect of all of the information and lives that it could save, well that outweighed his new life.

One last mission.

They made quick work and while you dozed off in what they called a briefing room. They seemed kind and said that you were safe. For the first time you allowed yourself to let your mind wander and mull over a possible future and jobs that you could do, you always loved the idea of working at a library or as a teacher. A safe house would be ideal, a new start? Anything would be better than going 'home' but as you see so many agents running and hustling about you felt unease.

What you knew to be the Avengers team came flooding in the room and while some sat others stood around the table. You knew James Barnes and Natasha Romanoff as they leaned against the wall while Steve Rogers trailed behind with a scowl as he spoke with Fury and Stark. The rest of the team sat down, and Sam was the first to give you a soft smile, you could tell he would smile at a wall if he thought it could talk back.

Steve was the first to speak and fill the silence of the room. "So this is her." Your head snapped up at the comment with such disdain dripping from it. "Yes, Y/N, please. I'd like to thank Sargeant Barnes and Ms. Romanoff for saving me earlier. Mr. Stark informed me that no others were hurt. I'm very relieved to hear that."

He crossed his arms over his broad flannel-clad chest with his brows stitched together. "Those men, your bodyguards were killed. Or do you not care." Tony hissed his name in reproach, but it did nothing to quell the Captains contempt. "I can assure you they've never been bodyguards, just babysitters. You did a service by killing them before they killed any more people. So can we please move on?" His eyes narrowed slightly, and everyone stared at him for a moment before continuing. You were shocked that you had that in you but after years of abuse from Henry and your Uncle for doing nothing wrong you were livid for doing something right and being met with such repulsion, at least from him. Captain Self Righteous.

"So under the circumstances with us needing to go through the information and Mr. Abbot and HYRDA unbeknownst to the leak...we think it in your best interest to return to your home." You were struck silent by Tonys claim. Had you not just risked life and limb to deliver this information literally on their doorstep only to be tossed aside. You felt a silent rage boiling up under to calm exterior, and your breathing hitched. They were supposed to protect you and here they are sending you back out there to the wolves. You understood the concept of the greater good, but the fear was about to overtake you.

"That's it? What am I suppose to do? Tell Henry that John and William just disappeared?! Go back to waiting for him to send someone...to take me to wherever he is?! Go back to living in fe--" A silent sob nearly escaped as you closed your eyes and regained some composure and with your voice barely above a whisper. "You were supposed to protect me?"

Tony cleared his throat and stepped in upbeat as ever. "That's the second part of the plan. See Cap here is to be your escort. As you can see he's all lumberjack and bearded, so most of the civilian world doesn't recognize him." You stood up and shook your head in clear confusion. "Are you trying to set Henry off? Is this a joke to you people? He'll ....kill me."

You didn't notice all of the looks given to you by the room, ranging from confusion to sympathy. It was Fury turns to explain their intentions. "The information that you gave us will be void if they know that we have it. We need time to decipher it and act on it. We also think that if you appear to have Steve as your new bodyguard and perhaps show you two getting... friendly... at a few public events it will send Henry over here to collect you or we can find out where he is staying. We're also putting a tracker on you." You could feel your body closing in on itself, and with a cold and distant finality, you stated. "He doesn't love me and you're playing with fire."

Steve spoke up with an indignant attitude. "Well, why get married? You must've loved him at some point, or he loved you. So we're banking on those feelings otherwise more innocent lives will be lost. I'm sure you don't want that on your hands, Mrs. Abbott."

You could no longer hold your temper any longer. You were finally making a decision for yourself, and it just went to hell in a handbasket. "Listen here, Captain America. Save your self-righteous commentary for the public and your fanbase. Not everyone gets the white picket fence and the happy ever after. Some of us get sold off at auction to the highest bidder. The only way Henry comes back is to get his property not his love. This is not some romantic fairytale that I've had the luxury of living. So shut the fuck up unless you have something useful to say."

Steve was dumbstruck and humiliated as the thought never occurred to him that you married with no choice. He just assumed that you loved a deplorable man and willingly went to bed with HYDRA. Literally, and now this was your way out. His mouth was agape, and while you were ashamed at your outburst, you felt it was a long time coming and it felt good. Very good. Perhaps too good and you should let that lion out of the cage more often.

"Look, I'll do it. If it will give you time to take down HYDRA and Henry but is there anyone else besides him." Steve's brows hitched together in what you found to be a usual look for him, and he put his hands in his pockets knowing how he acted; you had every right to ask for someone else. He also knew that the request would be declined.

Fury shook his head. "No, Bucky is too high profile with HYDRA. Sam and Clint are great but not if you're attacked by multiples, they aren't superhuman. Plus Steve's already comin' off an undercover op so he'll be more incognito to the public eye." Then he turned to Steve. "Make it work, Rogers." And with that, they left the room.

"I-I just have to get my bag then we can go to your place." You waved him off and as soon as he left you finally let the tears fall as you looked out on the New York Skyline.

So much for new beginnings.

So this is going to be a longer and darker series and will have domestic violence and triggers with those things associated with it. Some mentions of sexual situations in regards to her being sold into marriage. I apologize in advance if that makes you uncomfortable.

As for Cap-there will be language and smut. This is a one time warning because I’m a lazy asshole.

Tags with strikethroughs didn’t work so check your settings or the spelling on the tag list link on my page. You can also send me an ask. Love to all you sassy Marvel lovin’ bitches. Feel free to hit me up anytime lovelies!!

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#captain america #captain america reader #captain america x reader #captainamericaxreader #captain america smut #chris evans smut #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans reader smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #miniseries #Steve Rogers #steve rogers smut #steve x reader #avengers #eventual smut #eventual romance #angst

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highermagic · 6 years

Note

rowan.... please write that dean/cas “you asshole; i can’t believe you made me dig myself out of a grave”

Based off this post. I made up some BS because any other option I was thinking of came out sad.

Dean was in a bad mood. Not one of the repetitive “I woke up from a bad dream and I’m going to pretend I just wanted to be up early and so help me God if you talk to me before coffee I will end you” moods. Not a “Some random asshole dinged the Impala and I’m huffing so I don’t commit murder” mood. And not even one of those moods that Castiel noticed came around very specific times of the year and he had tactfully avoided pointing out, when Dean was grieving one of their many lost loved ones and decided to deal with that grief with aggression and moodiness.

So, out of any other option or possible idea for the cause, he did the best that he could: he left Dean alone, gave him space, and gave him solitude.

This was proving difficult, since Dean seemed intent on finding him in whatever room of the Bunker he happened to be quietly residing, only to then go out of his way to make loud huffs and low, muttered growls in Castiel’s direction. He seemed intent on seeking Castiel out just to complain at him for being there.

After the third time it happened, Castiel sighed and lifted his eyes to Heaven to pray for a shred of extra patience in dealing with the oldest Winchester brother, and shut his book, regarding Dean with a calm eye.

“Are you going to perhaps tell me what is bothering you at any point?” he asked archly.

Dean stopped mid-pace, his expression a comical combination of lingering frustration, and surprise that Castiel had called him out on his attitude. It occurred to Castiel, in that moment, that he put up with a lot of shit from Dean when it came to emotional things. Part of this was because he simply lacked the knowledge of the intricacies, and didn’t want to overstep. But this was uncomplicated. Dean was acting mulish and like a child and Castiel had done his best to be out of his way and if Dean would continue in this petulant manner, it would not be without due cause.

Dean was silent for a long moment and Castiel raised an eyebrow, set his book to one side, and stood. “Well?”

It was at that moment that Dean seemed to recover. He drew himself up and fixed Castiel with as dark and aggravated a scowl as he could muster. “I just...can’t believe you just left me there,” he said.

Castiel cocked his head to one side. “You’ll have to be more specific,” he said.

Dean growled. “In my fuckin’ grave, you asshole!” he said, his voice rising to the point where he was almost yelling. Almost. “You yanked my soul outta Hell, fixed up all the parts of me that were rottin’, scarred, all that shit, and then you made me dig myself outta my own grave.”

Castiel blinked at him. Of all the wrongs and slights he had given Dean, he hardly expected this one to break the top five. “Is that what has you so aggravated?” he asked, and Dean let out a low, exasperated exhale. “Dean, that was years ago.”

“Yeah, and I’m still mad about it,” Dean hissed.

Castiel held his hands out to either side of him, fingers spread in a helpless gesture. “What would you like me to say, here?”

“Well, how about a reason? You’re tellin’ me in your infinite wisdom and God’s plan that the head honchos said it would be a good idea to risk your precious Righteous Man suffocating in a Goddamn box in the ground? Or, what, that you ran outta juice before that final part? Why’d you leave me in the ground and make me dig myself outta my own grave? You couldn’t have dropped me off at a Pizza Hut or somethin’?”

Dean was standing close to him now, barely a step between the two of them, as though he intended to physically intimidate Castiel. Castiel regarded him calmly.

“You want the truth?” he asked.

“That’d be nice, yeah.”

Castiel’s eyes dropped down to Dean’s chest, and he nodded to it. “Your tattoo,” he said. Dean blinked, stepping back, and pressed a hand to his chest where the anti-possession tattoo lay. “Moving your body when it was dead would have required something other than your own soul to enter you. I didn’t have your permission, and nothing else was going to be able to move it. So, I healed what I could, returned your soul to your body, and left you there. And I was pressed for time - things chased me out of Hell, Dean, and I could only protect you for so long. I did what I had to do to return your soul and then I was called away to repair the break in Hell’s borders that I had made.”

Dean looked at him for a long, long time. Castiel resisted the urge to check his pulse.

Finally: “...Oh,” he said weakly, looking sheepish. His hand fell to his side.

Castiel hummed, pressing his lips together, and lifted his chin. “Are you satisfied?”

Dean cracked a guilty, off-kilter smile, and scratched the back of his head. “I...guess. Yeah. I’m sorry. I didn’t -.”

“You have been very rude all day, and abrasive when you didn’t need to be,” Castiel continued. “I believe I’m owed something to make up for your boorish behavior.”

“Jeez, Cas, I said I was sorry! What else do you want?”

Castiel smiled, letting the harsh demeanor melt from him, letting Dean see in his eyes and his smile that he was forgiven, and he crossed the remaining space and took Dean by the front of his shirt, pulling him in for a kiss. Dean met him eagerly, only a little startled at first, but quickly recovering and accommodating Castiel’s lips pressed gently against his.

When Castiel pulled back, Dean was grinning, his gaze heavy-lidded. “Okay,” he said, biting his lower lip. “Yeah. I got some ideas.”

#deancastiel #highermagic spells #prompts #here you go!#Anonymous #So I married an ask murderer

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jakester95 · 6 years

Audio

Ganta Igarashi vs Yukiteru Amano - Rap Battle by Rap Battles: Rebooted Video release in about a week or so. SkeepTieel as Ganta Igarashi VinnyO as Yukiteru Amano Savannah as Shiro/Wretched Egg garbageGothic as Yuno Gasai Ganta Igarashi: Your [DEAD END]’s before a Deadman, you’re target number one A fragile phone turns to scrap in the blast of the Ganta Gun! I murder Snakes with Crows while you choke against children So feel free to rap, or don’t. You’ve always made No Difference. Yukiteru Amano: 0:22. Igarashi rashly chokes on the track. I won’t take crap from weakly kids motivated by flashbacks Got another school killer with which to have a heart to heart Cause I’ve got a penchant for stopping criminals with a dart! Ganta Igarashi: You don't seem to get it, so I'll put it this way Your romance was so bland your creator replaced you with Akise! Go hide under your blanket, freak! Your world’s a blasphemous fallacy! You’re no pal to me! Like Frank Zappa: absurdity’s your reality! I’ll make a Carnival Corpse of this Stockholm Syndromed clown Cast Points, break joints and make this bystander stand his ground I’ve got that blood flow! I’m sorry, Condor, it’s a shame, That he’ll be the second Yuki to be engulfed in flames! Yukiteru Amano: This goes for the both of us: to live, you have to win But now I understand that awful rap was your Branch of Sin In this Dog Race, I’ve got both the bark and bite of Hinata! So don’t think of getting ahead of yourself like Azami, Ganta! You’re naught but a Nameless Worm as that virus you’re infected with A literal toxic brat! Even more-so than the Fifth! In Survival Games, you couldn’t even win your prison hierarchy! A myriad of death that Mosaics the Future... -Diary! Shiro: (Don’t bully Ganta!) Raps taste better with a friend! N-no Shiro! Stay back! No worries Ganta, Shiro knows he won’t survive her rap attack! Shiro will spit fiery raps! Like po-data chips, you blow! Shiro will do upon you and the Ninth like how they did to Crow! Wretched Egg: The gloves are off. Ace Man is here, and he’s setting loose on those with rhymes so systematic, I won’t hold back, Mother Goose. First one out’s a rotten egg! Stick to wallowing in self pity. Or I’ll knock you to you new a world… aren’t the stars so pretty? Yuno Gasai: (I’m here for you Yuki~!) I’m Yuki’s armor to rival your bodysuit, pervert! Leave you screaming bloody murder until all I hear are Murmurs! Rewriting futures; I’m the jotter! I’ll do you in for Yuki, proper! You goner! This stalker slaughters an airhead, ah~! I’ll pop her! And her self righteous piece of shit blinder than that justice freak Won’t make it bloodless! Make murder luscious any day of the week! This fight’s pink and white! Sickly sweet versus frivolous and fruity! And while you do it for the cookies, I’ll be in bed doing Yuki! (ahahaha~!) Ganta Igarashi: Your 10,000 years of solitude doesn’t stack up a G Block! The last one standing, and the first mic to be dropped! Yukiteru Amano: This is like taking Candy from a baby, I’ve made like Yoh Wood’s-pecker didn’t make it to third Ace, man ...Yuno. Beat produced by Kustom Written by Legion and Skep

#IFTTT #SoundCloud

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thelion-thehound-and-thelam-blog · 7 years

Text

Title: Inversion

Series: Hannibal (TV/Novel Hybrid)

Rating: Everyone

AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11994324

Pairing: Clarice Starling/Hannibal Lecter

Summary: Clarice Starling and Hannibal Lecter role reversal AU. Takes place in Hannibal TV verse after season 1 episode 5. Right now it's a oneshot, but I might write more stories in this verse later.

Serial murderer Clarice Starling, once a shining star of the FBI, is now imprisoned in the Baltimore Hospital for the Criminally Insane.

---

In the dreary gray of the basement of the Baltimore Hospital for the Criminally Insane, Hannibal Lecter found himself across a startling pretty and intelligent young woman.

Death Angel Clarice Starling, the tabloids called her.

Clarice Starling, convicted murderer of 7, and killer of serial murderer Jame Gumb, known by the public as Buffalo Bill. That was only counting the ones that the FBI knew of.

Up until her incarceration, Clarice had been a brilliant agent at the FBI. Her teachers constantly scored her at the upper tier of the top 5% in all areas. Her discovery and murder of the high profile serial killer was just a cherry on top. She was the lioness to Will Graham’s hound in Jack Crawford’s pack.

It was this same lauded intellect and ability that allowed her to go uncaptured for years. Although Hannibal had long wished to interview her, his motive for his visit today was...a little more personal.

An orderly offered to take Hannibal’s coat when he entered the front office, which he politely declined. The man mentioned that the director was out at the moment, but would be back very soon and let him into the hospital director’s office.

Hannibal was left standing in the middle of the office and gave only a cursory glance at the gold plaque reading “Dr. Fredrick Chilton”.

The director’s office of the hospital was a room furnished considerably in contrast to the bleak grays and greens of the mental institution. On the wall hung many academic achievements in their ornate frames and waxy parchment, lauding the director with many degrees and accomplishments. This too, Hannibal only spent a few seconds glancing through.

The door behind him creaked. The same orderly from the front office opened the door for in a small, short man with oily hair that reminded Hannibal of a certain pigment secreted by the gall bladder.

“Are you Hannibal Lecter?”

“Dr. Hannibal Lecter.”

“I’m Dr. Fredrick Chilton, director of this hospital.”

Although the man emphasized on the doctor, in the short five minutes Hannibal spent conversing with Chilton in his tasteless office, he learned that the man had no medical degree at all.

“I can see why they sent you,” Chilton tugged his cuffs, his beady eyes narrowing at Hannibal’s tailored designer suit. “Starling rarely gets to see anyone so put together, not in this place. I’d rather not go down myself, you see.”

Hannibal only gave the man a nod. “I’m certain you have your reasons.”

“Indeed I do, she’s a terribly disturbed woman. You wouldn’t expect it, not from such a pretty face. But it’s so rare to get my hands on someone like her, alive. A female serial killer.” Chilton beamed. He reminded Hannibal of a schoolyard boy showing off a prized possession - odious. “She’s housed in the basement ward, where the worst go, under maximum security.

Chilton opened the door to his office, leading Hannibal down the hall to where they would take an elevator down to the lower level, his chatter never stopping as he spoke of all of his cases in the hospital basement.

Hannibal had little interest in Chilton’s collection quest of the vile and sick. Upon exiting the office, his fingers skillfully picked a business card off of the large wooden desk and whisked it into his suit pocket in one fluid motion; Chilton none the wiser.

---

The heavy steel of the gates lowered, making a clattering noise upon contact with the cement floor. Hannibal turned to face Chilton as they reached the basement cells that held the hospital’s more infamous inmates. “Thank you Dr. Chilton. However, I believe it would be best if I faced Miss Starling by myself.”

Chilton stiffened for a moment, before amicably holding out his hand. “You should have told me earlier, I would have sent you with an orderly.”

Hannibal knew, much to his distaste, that the slick shine of the man’s hand was from lanolin. He grasped it for a moment, holding it only as long as society dictated acceptable.

The moment Chilton turned around, Hannibal unfurled his handkerchief from inside his jacket, wiping off the oil in a practiced motion. He then carefully folded the handkerchief and placed it in his pocket opposite to Chilton’s business card.

At the door to the basement stood a different orderly and a prison guard. A nametag with Eric printed on it, gleamed in the fluorescent light of the ceiling lamps of the orderly’s work uniform. Chilton had sent a message ahead of time, thankfully, and Eric was waiting to let Hannibal in.

“Walk straight in the middle.” Eric instructed, his voice reedy in the cool air. He led Hannibal down the hall, the prison guard bringing up the rear. The basement’s ambient atmosphere, contributed partially by the lights within the cells, cast a dim blue against the cement and glass. “They’ll shout and scream as you walk by, it’s nothing personal. The cell you’re looking for is at the end, to the left. Don’t hand her any pens, she has her own. Make sure any paper you hand her is free of any metal. Don’t go near the glass, don’t touch the glass, or we will have to escort you out of here by force. Do you think you’ll need a chair?”

Hannibal appreciated the man’s courtesy and affirmed that he, indeed, would require a chair. Eric walked to one of the lockers at the end and pulled out a folding chair.

As he took a seat, Hannibal observed Clarice in her cell. She kept her back turned to him as she occupied herself with a magazine, seemingly unaware of his arrival. Books, periodicals, and newspapers were piled on the edge of the desk bolted to the wall, as well as the head of the sleeping cot. Mail was scattered to the corner, an afterthought.

The thick partition of solid glass that separated the woman from Hannibal reminded him of a specimen box for insects. Clarice’s fiery hair, incapable of being dulled by the atmosphere of the prison, shimmered like the vibrant color of butterfly scales.

He sat there, for a moment, observing her. When it became clear that Clarice had no intention of acknowledging his arrival, he spoke up. It was quieter at this side of the ward, carrying his words clearly.

“Hello Clarice Starling, I am Doctor Hannibal Lecter, may I speak with you?”

The woman smoothly closed the magazine in her hand and set it down, next to the letters and books. With a practiced twist, she turned to face him, her arms and legs crossing. Clarice Starling sat as if she were in her office at Quantico instead of in a tiny harshly lit supermax unit.

“Hello. Dr. Lecter.” There was a slight ghost of Clarice’s southern accent in those words, dripping a barely concealed amusement in the way she spoke his name. Her stare seemed to weigh him from the other side of the glass, glinting with a great intellect. “Are you here to poke around my head like everyone else?”

“Only if you wish me to, Clarice Starling.” Hannibal kept their gazes locked, speaking her name softly.

Clarice tilted her head.

“If you're not here to deconstruct me, then what are you here for?”

“My own interests and personal research. I read your paper in the Journal of Clinical Psychiatry, Clarice, it is brilliantly written.”

A snort. Clarice leaned back, her hand brushing her vibrant hair back casually. “I’m amazed, Doctor. Exactly how much research have you done on me already?”

“Not much. I’d very much prefer to speak with the genuine person."

Silence. Then Clarice began to tap her fingers, as if thinking. “Personal is it? Dr. Lecter, what reason do I have for answering any of your questions?”

This time, Hannibal graced Clarice with a small curve of his mouth. “If you so happen to wish for a fairer method, perhaps we could do a quid pro quo, Clarice?”

The silence returned, and they sat in mutual solitude. Clarice pondered for a moment, her tapping resuming. Next to her, lay the last month’s copy of Vogue.

“You tell me something and I tell you something. But Doctor, what do you have to offer me?”

There it was. Hannibal kept his eye contact with Clarice and spoke in a measured tone.

“I may be able to bring in Will Graham for a visit, Clarice.”

Clarice pursed her lips, as if she found the idea unappealing.

“And how would you be able to do just that, Dr. Hannibal Lecter?”

“He is my patient, unofficially. Some more recent cases have...upset him. I thought, since he has mentioned you before, that it might help him to center himself to see you.”

Clarice leaned back again, staring at her fingers. She seemed to ponder the offer for a moment.

“Dr. Lecter. Are you aware that the man who put me here was Will Graham? What makes you think that I would have any motive to help him?”

“Because, Clarice, you were the one who surrendered yourself to him.”

Clarice exhaled through her nose and wrapped her arms around herself. That was the one detail that both she and Will had left out during her surrender, left out during all of the court trials. “How is Will?”

Pleased, the curve once again graced Hannibal’s thin lips.

“Not in the best shape, unfortunately. Crawford has chosen to involve him once more in his quest for righteous justice.”

Clarice furrowed her brows. Her last face-to-face talk with Will had been after her prosecution. At that time, Will told her that he chose to formally retire from fieldwork, wishing to focus on teaching at the academy. Did Jack attempt to replace her spot as Will’s anchor with this man in front of her?

How quickly does faith slip away, how weak is the material that trust is made of. Gratitude, as Crawford liked to say, had a short half life.

“I see. Your turn.”

“Why do you kill, Clarice?”

Silence. Then the tentative shift of Clarice’s body as she straightened her posture. “Dr. Lecter, I cannot fathom why you would ask that question.”

“Why do you think I wouldn’t?”

“I am sure my motives have been thoroughly examined and analyzed by the press and scholarly journals. Journals, I am quite sure, that you read.”

“They only talk of simple minded speculation. I doubt, Clarice, that your reasons are as banal as ‘man hating’.”

“What makes you think I don’t hate men?”

“You certainly don’t hate Will. You tolerate Jack Crawford.”

Silence again.

“You’re right. I don’t.” Clarice laced her fingers together. “I do it to silence the screams.”

“What screams, Clarice?”

“The lambs.”

“Why lambs?”

“What case is Will working on right now?”

“He just finished with the Angelmaker. Jack has, for once, allowed him a moment of peace before plunging him head first into another gruesome case.”

“The lambs are from my childhood. My mother sent me to live with my aunt whose husband owned a slaughter barn. Do you think you could tell Will to stop, Dr. Lecter?”

“I believe Crawford already offered him that option. He refused.”

“That-” Clarice stopped herself, her laced hands clenching in anger, as if offering prayer. She grasped that anger, tamping it down with great willpower and used its edge to clear her mind. “I apologize for that, Doctor. Your question?”

“Why did your mother send you to live with your aunt?”

“My father died and there was too many mouths to feed. There’s only so much you can do on a high school education. What was the first case Crawford dragged Will into?”

“A missing girls case. He believed they were being murdered, but lacked evidence.”

“And so he sought out Will Graham, thinking he could find the murderer even with the lack of evidence. How did that turn out?”

“Badly.”

There was a pause - one final time - as their conversation reached its end. Without looking away, never looking away, Hannibal asked one more question.

“What, Clarice, was the memory that led to the screaming of the lambs?”

Like a thin stream, Clarice’s voice quietly slid through the glass partition, through the small holes in the barrier.

Any person other than Hannibal would have had to struggle to hear.

“When I came to the farm, I was happy. I’d always loved animals and my aunt’s family treated me well.”

“You were happy, Clarice. Until you learned they fed out animals for slaughter.”

“Yes. The farm mainly fed out slaughter horses, although they did other animals depending on the season. All of the horses on the farm were either sick or lame. I hadn’t realized it at the time.

“I became attached to a blind mare. None of the slaughter horses on the barn had names. They don’t tell you when you’re feeding them out, so I called her Hannah.”

“What happened to the horse, Clarice?”

“We ran away. It was summer, we could sleep out.”

“Did you lead her or ride her?”

“A little of both. I had to guide her to a fence for me to climb on to ride her. We rode out to a livery stable outside of town. For 20$ a week, I could keep Hannah in the corral. There was enough on me to pay for it but the owner’s wife called the sheriff on me.”

“What happened after?”

“My aunt decided to let me go. They sent me to a Lutheran orphanage after.”

“Did they slaughter Hannah?”

“No, she went with me. The orphanage was on a farm, they let her plow the garden.”

“Why did you run away with the horse?”

“They were going to kill her.”

“Did you know when?”

“No, but she was getting fat.”

“At what time did you set off with Hannah?”

“Early, it was still dark.”

“Something woke you.”

“Screaming. The walls on the farm were pretty bad at keeping sound out and I woke to screaming in the dark. They were slaughtering the spring lambs.”

“And this prompted you to run away.” He spoke it as if it were a fact and not a presumption. It irked her, but Clarice found herself unable to rebut his statement.

“Yes.”

“Yet you still hear them. Are they in your dreams, Clarice? Or do you hear them even when you are awake?”

“Dreams, mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“Sometimes I hear them even after I wake up, even though they couldn’t possibly be real.”

“And does killing stop these screams?”

“Depends. If it’s just killing, no. They stop when I save someone.”

“And then you’re free, for a time. But later you find that you must do it again, to make them stop.”

“Yes.”

Hannibal leaned back, his face still with calm and at peace. Clarice, given time to ponder, wondered what this man wanted. He held no notepad, nor did he ever break eye contact with her. He seemed too proper to wear a wire and Clarice could not see anything on him that would suggest such an instrument. He didn’t even seem to carry a briefcase.

“Thank you, Clarice.” There was warmth in the thank you that had not been present in their earlier conversation. A good-humored crinkle appeared at the edge of his eyes. A genuine smile. “I will be sure to bring Will next time.”

Clarice watched from her side of the glass. Watched as Hannibal stood and gestured to Eric. Watched, as he gave her one last look as the guard led him away. Watched long after the doctor’s silhouette vanished from the hellish basement ward of the Baltimore’s Hospital for the Criminally Insane.

#inversion AU #Clarice Starling #Hannibal Lecter #Oneshot #role-reversal #Will Graham (Mentioned)#fan fiction #WEH MY INTERNET IS FINALLY BACK I CAN POST THIS #sorry im a bit awkward w dialogue

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