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mx-lamour · 5 months

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Well go on, how are you gonna lore your Argynvostholt? oO

You're right, I should have followed this up. Get some water and strap yourselves in, ok? I saved my initial brainstormy post in my drafts, so... I guess I'm prepared for this. Are you? (dun dun dun...)

First thing: I want to use I, Strahd as the Tome, as-is, full stop. And I want it to be accurate (accurate to what Strahd thinks/believes happened, anyway--not propaganda, not a mislead). This has been my biggest hurdle, re: Argynvostholt.

I, Strahd sets up the von Zarovich army and the valley it conquers as incredibly low-magic. There is magic, yes. However:

The majority of people are suitably spooked by it. The Ba'al Verzi dagger having weird runes on it and the idea that it must draw blood before it can be sheathed are very freaky. When Strahd stands stoic in the face of this weird cult object and reenacts the rite of binding himself to the land again, everybody present (even Alek, "the least pious and most hedonistic of the lot") make signs of the faith. Which of the elements in that event are even by-definition actual magic or just mundane ritual and superstition is mostly left up to interpretation. Strahd did discern some arcane power in the dagger.

Aside from the use of this particular item, the only people who ever perform what seems to be by-the-book, honest-to-god Magic is Ilona (a high-ranking cleric), and Strahd himself (who admits to having limited ability when he's still human, and describes the use of material components in a legit spell almost fifty years thereafter). Leo Dilisnya also uses a number of magical protections that he's scrounged together over the same fifty years, but his use of magic seems to be limited to the traps he had lain for Strahd (which were really solid, but ultimately not enough to defeat a vampire).

Ilona was pretty high up there as far as clerics go. The one cleric more powerful than her was their high preist Kir. The book doesn't say what his abilities were, but we know some of Ilona's abilities. She can tell if someone is telling the truth (Zone of Truth or good insight?). She can Speak With Dead, but she can't always successfully prevent someone from dying or bring them back. There's no way to tell for sure how strong she really is, or what level of life-giving necromacy she could have attempted--especially because she has an army to look out for and might be spreading her resources a little thin at any given time--but from my experiences having played clerics, I'd cast my suspicions around 6th level.

Which is nothing to sneeze at. But. If she is the most powerful spellcaster in Strahd's army (and one of, presumably, very few)...

Would they have defeated a dragon?

Sure, Strahd's army could take out a dragon. I have no doubt. It's probably a pretty sizeable force. Strahd is an effective general. Would there be a lot of casualties? Yes. It is war. That's a thing.

But it would be kind of weird if no one ever referenced the dragon. There again, whatever, I, Strahd is from Strahd's point of view, during a time immediately after the wars are over, and he is not exactly the kind of person who would boast about his victory against a dragon. It probably doesn't even phase him that much. He's probably just like, yes, of course my army subdued a dragon. It is expected. I do not fail.

But what about the revenants?

The module has this very actiony little blurb about how Strahd's army fought the Order of the Silver Dragon and the knights died horribly, and Vladimir was so enraged that he got back up as a revenant and brought a lot of other knights back with him. It's cinematic. It's cool.

But this is where it gets dicey, in relation to I, Strahd. Would Strahd's soldiers have thought twice about fighting an opposing force that will just keep getting back up again? They don't have anything for this, aside from possibly whatever Ilona was prepared for. Even ignoring the argument about which force the army fears more--their fierce human general or the walking dead--would Strahd's army have been able to win?

Against undead? Okay, sure, why not. Maybe Strahd's soldiers don't even realize they are undead, since the bodies are so fresh at that point and covered in armor anyway. Maybe they just don't notice they're fighting the same guys again. They simply don't register that as a possibility; they're just trying to stay alive in the fight. Ilona, who could probably have sensed they were undead, wouldn't have gotten close enough to them to discover it.

Okay, so Strahd's forces could possibly take down Argynvost. They could unwittingly fight a bunch of the recently-undeceased. Fine. That solves my conundrum about the setting's descrepancies in the frequency of magic and supernatural forces.

That's about where I had left it when I was going to ask ye other Curse of Strahd DMs for ideas.

I've encountered more conundrums since then.

Point One being: I think I read that revenants usually have a one-year timer on their revenge before their spirit passes on, heedless of success. But if I'm using I, Strahd as gospel, there would have been at least three years between the Fall of Argynvostholt and the start of the curse. Which means... no revenants in cursed Barovia. Their souls would only have been trapped there in perpetuity if they had still been around when the mists closed in. If they had become revenants at the initial battle, their timers would have long run out already.

I also realized that, if they had turned at the initial battle and kept fighting... Strahd's army would have just killed them again. Like.

I tried to give them the benefit of the doubt. If they don't die again, what do the revenants do? Strahd's not just going to let these guys wander around, right? And it's pretty vital to the plot that Strahd's army did, in fact, win. They could not be locked in combat forever.

Do they play dead? That seems absurd for a revenant bent on revenge. If nothing else, the consensus on medieval battles seems to be that the living would loot the field of anything valuable (armor, weapens, clothing, even the raw metal of broken eqipment) and then pile the bodies into a large burial pit. I could not be convinced that a revenant would just lay down through all that.

So this is what I came up with for them, because I read that thing about the burial pit and went OH MY GOD...

It took about 24 hours for Strahd to fully become a vampire (you could say it took that long because he hadn't killed Sergei yet, but he had already been spared from death by consuming Alek's blood and was already well on his way to full-fledged vampirism by the time he enacted that part of the plan).

If we use that as a precedent for the turning process, revenants could take that long (or longer; as long as we need it to) to return to their bodies and become fully-realized revenants. It could take a long time for their spirits to be shunted toward the astral plane, break free, and return to animate their corpses.

Anyway. Do you see where I'm going with this? It's not good.

Argynvost has fallen. The knights of the Order are dead. Vladimir's vengeful spirit rages against the natural forces pulling him toward the Astral Plane, and he finally breaks free with such a force that other knights are able to follow him back through the tear in the veil to return to their bodies.

But in the meantime, the battlefield has been stripped. Equipment and other valuables gone. Half-dressed bodies thrown into a deep pit, tangled together, tens deep, heavy earth piled atop them. Rain beating it down into mud, packed tight into the crevices between them.

The revenants awake in this mass grave.

They have to dig themselves out. Gather new resources. Make plans.

Having fudged how long it takes for them to become revenants, and possibly when the timer on their revenge actually begins (after they finally claw their way to the surface?)—and maybe they're a fringe case anyway, I realized later, due to either dragon magic or shenanigans from being so near to the Amber Temple or some combination thereof?—and maybe the one-year thing doesn't even matter? Throw it out the window; I just need them to not get slaughtered by Strahd's guys before—By the time they are ready, the mists have finally closed around Barovia, three years after the Fall.

Madam Eva (who I have other ideas for, too—why? why make her Strahd's half-sister? what is that? stop giving him more siblings) meets the Order on their long-awaited march toward Castle Ravenloft, and tells them that Strahd is now trapped in a hell of his own making. Satisfied that Strahd will suffer in his new situation, Vladimir is determined to keep Strahd alive to experience all of the worst this new domain has to offer.

So. That's what I have.

TL;DR - It's the same but different.

#curse of strahd #campaign notes #continuity editing #argynvostholt #dm problems #ravenloft #order of the silver dragon #revenants #i maybe thought too hard about this #it's fine #lamour dms cos

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tyrantisterror · 2 years

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Jurassic World: Dominion is the biggest, loudest, dumbest Jurassic World movie yet

Ok not really, but almost! When I was through the first half of this one I felt pretty confident it would out-stupid Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom, but the second half managed to pull it from that brink just slightly, allowing Fallen Kingdom to keep its crown as the dumbest Jurassic franchise film of all time. But do not fear: Jurassic World: Dominion is still dumb.

So, like, tangent time - a lot of negative reviews about the Jurassic franchise have this stock criticism of “every movie is just people trapped on an island with dinosaurs.” And I think that’d bad criticism for a couple of reasons. First, lots of movie series look same-y if you describe them in reductive terms like that, but for some reason monster movies seem to be the only ones that get raked over the coals for it. I could just as easily and accurately summarize every superhero movie as “people in costumes punch each other,” but that doesn’t stop Hollywood from making fifty of them every month and critics from giving them decent to glowing reviews for bringing a “fresh” take to the genre.

Second, the most recent Jurassic World movies are very much NOT “just” people trapped on an island with dinosaurs - while the second half of each sequel has a setpiece of people trapped in a space with dinosaurs, the first half of them consists of a bunch of stupid shit where the writers desperately try to figure out what to do when people AREN’T trapped with dinosaurs, and that’s where these movies get REALLY dumb. Maybe “people trapped on dinosaur island” is this series’ lane, and maybe they should be allowed to stay there.

Ok, tangent done.

The writing, editing, and directing is bad in this movie - moreso in the first half, as the second half picks up in all three of those elements, but it’s still never what I’d call good. There are sporadic moments of quality, mainly carried by the actors and the spectacle, but, like, we gotta stop letting Colin Trevorrow do movies, guys. He’s not good at it.

Jeff Goldblum, Laura Dern, and Sam Neil are all fantastic actors, and while they’re not good enough to keep you from realizing a lot of their lines are badly written and their scenes abruptly edited in a way that is REALLY distracting (especially in the first half), because no human can work miracles, they are good enough to bring a lot of charm and charisma regardless of the material, and it helps that the clearly remember how these characters were written under Spielberg and bring little touches and subtleties in their performances that Colin Trevorrow wouldn’t have thought to ask for. Also, like, holy shit these three aged like wine, goddamn, if you’re into milfs and/or dilfs this is your jam, good lord

I think the second half of the movie works because it focuses more on the original JP trio than it does on the odious leads of the previous two Jurassic World movies, which is good because Claire Dearing is an inconsistently written mess of a character and Owen Grady is... possibly one of my least favorite characters in fiction? Like damn, “guy who domesticates dinosaurs” is what I wanted to be when I grew up and somehow I hate this character with a passion, good job Colin.

There’s a couple of corporate characters introduced in this movie (sorta - Dodgson technically was in the first film, but he was in it so little and had none of the character traits he does here, so it might as well be his first movie in the franchise) that I actually found pretty compelling. Dodgson is kind of a relief because he’s not a sneering, over-the-top villain like the previous Jurassic World movie bad guys, but rather a more realistic, awkward “human lives are just statistics in an equation that makes me money” style corporate villain, and the actor playing him does an excellent job selling it. He’s evil in the vein of Jeff Bezos and Elon Musk, and I like that. His second in command is a really interesting character too, possibly the best written character in the whole movie, and to say more would unfortunately spoil some things, but still, worth noting.

But enough about humans! Dinosaurs! That’s what this is all about in the end, after all. How are the dinosaurs?

Well, much better than in Fallen Kingdom, thank god! I mean, that’s a low fucking bar to clear, but still. The carnivores are no longer self-destructively murderous! They value their lives over committing wanton acts of slaughter! It’s a small thing, I suppose, but it’s something Fallen Kingdom fucked up royally, so my joy is indescribable!

Even the Giga more or less acts like just a big, territorial predator. Yes, despite Colin Trevorrow’s inexplicable and utterly bonkers fucking statement about the Giga being Heath Ledger’s The Joker’s Scalysona, the Giganotosaurus is presented as just a big predator who wants food. Low bar to clear, but we cleared it!

Blue and Rexy, the only likable characters to appear in every Jurassic World movie, have diminished roles in this one, but they get some satisfying emotional moments, and that’s nice.

All that said... I’m lowkey annoyed that this movie’s writing made me kinda dislike tropes I’m normally a slut for. There’s a big monster fight at the end of this movie, and, like... it was not earned. The first Jurassic World, for its many faults, properly set up its big monster fight, and that fight was the natural climax of its story. It was earned. Here the big monster fight comes after the story is pretty much wrapped up, tacked on as if it was something the studio exec’s demanded at the last minute. It’s not set up and has no weight, and so it felt... pointless.

And if I, a person who wrote two fucking books where there’s a big monster fight in almost every chapter, think the big monster fight at the end of your movie was unnecessary and unengaging, that’s a bad sign, right?

But it’s fun. It’s dumb, but it’s enjoyably dumb, like a Friday the 13th movie or an Andrew WK song. And there’s some lovely spectacle of dinosaurs in the modern world that, to date, you really can’t get anywhere else, and the novelty of that is enough to make my inner child happy. So, if you’re in the mood for big, dumb fun with dinosaurs, this is for you.

#Jurassic World #Jurassic World: Dominion

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ruvviks · 1 year

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– OC RED FLAGS.

TAGGED BY: @shellibisshe, @strafethesesinners, @aartyom & @katsigian, thank you so much!! TAGGING: @reaperkiller, @steelport, @arklay, @faarkas, @swordcoasts, @morvaris, @cultistbase, @liurnia, @girlbosselrond, @devilbrakers, @necro-hamster and YOU! – quiz ☆

– STUBBORN.

you don't recognize the opinions and beliefs of others, either that or you don't care about them. you stick strongly to what you were raised to doing, and don't realize that the world can change. you have extremely strong beliefs, and you think that if another's beliefs aren't the exact same as yours, they're wrong and you automatically hate them. you also might be political and close minded

director’s commentary: mikhail is 100% a stubborn little man. it’s more in the sense of him continuously putting others’ needs before his own and when people tell him to stop he doesn’t listen <3 which he needs to stop doing because it’s going to get him killed one day. HOWEVER the description (not all too accurate) DOES mention sticking to beliefs strongly and mikhail does have that a little bit- for example, his black-and-white thinking about platonic love versus romantic love that i described in a post at some point, which made it hard for him to be more physically affectionate with his friends. he has more little things like that which he holds on to for a very long time because that’s how he’s been raised (or it’s bad coping mechanisms from when he lost contact with vitali for six years) and he doesn’t know any better and he’s for a while too stubborn and too scared to look for alternatives until vincent comes along <3 but he would also never hate his loved ones for having different views on stuff like that. in fact he ends up spending a good amount of time trying to understand other people’s views and eventually manages to let go of his own ways a bit because it’s much healthier for himself that way

– FAKE.

you are a toxic human being. you belittle others, and are overly competitive. you probably envy those who have it better than you so you try to manipulate the person into feeling worthless so that you can feel superior. you are never there for your friends in time of need but you expect them to always be at your service

director’s commentary: NOOOO THIS ONE IS MEAN WEHGFJDGHDFJG ok so i guess it Does fit a little bit? the description is a bit much, everyone who’s read about vincent knows he’s not like that lol but he DOES have a lot of envy in him that he needs to work on. if anything it’s more of a passive feeling inside him that can make him close himself off on occasion but it’s not an active feeling, he would never go around manipulating others and he is Always there for his friends. his envy as well as his competitiveness come from him being the youngest of five and he’s had to fight for his spot for basically his entire childhood and he hasn’t been able to let go of that yet- and this mostly translates to him doing the most on gigs to the point he’s a danger to himself (and sometimes others!!) and also he likes to steal from rich people <3 and then there is once again the added layer of having had to share a body with johnny, which puts the “fake” into a whole different perspective. johnny’s personality has definitely leaked over into vincent a little bit and sometimes even for him it’s hard to tell if something he does or thinks originates from himself or from silverhand

– VIOLENT.

when something makes you upset, it could even be the tiniest most petty reason ever, you yell, rage, and possibly throw stuff in anger. your actions think quicker than your mind, and it could probably not even be intentional but the next thing you'll realize is that you've hurt someone

director’s commentary: when i first took this quiz for vitali i got “lack of trust” which fits him a lot better than this one but i wanted to see if he could still get this result as well and, well, here we are. he would never hurt his loved ones and the broker fic is proving that quickly but with the way he so fiercely defends those he cares about, he can absolutely get violent when it comes to his enemies. vitali’s anger is one of the main themes of the broker fic and it shows how he’s worked so hard all his life to find healthy outlets and ways to keep himself under control- and then it shows how this all falls apart when his anger starts putting him in the passenger seat of his body because of the remnants of arasaka’s brainwashing tech in his head. him torturing dupoint, him screaming and punching the wall in the abandoned arasaka facility the day after matvey nearly shot and killed mikhail, him having that argument with daniil- all signs of that river inside him overflowing, if we were to stick to matvey’s metaphor. as you can see i’m very normal about it <3

#tag games #ask:mikhail #ask:vincent #ask:vitali #second time's the charm surely <3 if tumblr fucks up my formatting again i'm gonna bite and kill #ANYWAY HII sorry about the long director's commentary i got carried away <3 i love talking about my ocs and offering additional insight #vincent's one is so mean SHGFDHGJ you all KNOW that isn't him. he would never leave his friends on read he replies within 1 second #if he takes longer than 15 minutes to reply then you know something is wrong. even when he's on a gig he's texting you #only had to redo the quiz for vitali once btw and that also makes me insane <3 #truly one bad day away from falling back into old bad habits and coping mechanisms babeey!!!#BUT HE'S GETTING BETTER AND THAT'S WHAT IT'S ALL ABOUT

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flaringfoxsoul03 · 1 year

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Hi there Writer, can I ask some Match up Romantic Obey me? Ofc if it's okay to you

How should I started, well.

know myself actually but it's hard to describe it, I'm a Female She/Her pronouns Demisexual INTJ-T. I'm a quiet person and rarely talk but somehow I can make people befriend me easily, maybe because everyone says I'm "Cold outside but warm inside" I guess??? I'm also an ambivert who tends to be more extrovert actually, I'm not easy to get comfortable with new people but I think I'm a friendly person because in my hometown Being friendly and polite is a bridge of socialization and it's already in my bloodblood. I sometimes feel bad for someone even though I know it wasn't my fault when I got into a fight and when I get angry I just stay quiet and don't react much maybe I'll just give them the cold shoulder or at least try not to be seen with them.

the place I hate the most when I hang out is hiking. I got lost and almost died (obviously I don't want to experience that again) and my Favorite Place to Hang out is Cinema and My house. I really like drawing and I often draw my daily life on my tablet like a diary (my hands are fine-)

My love language is quality time, I know I may not be a talkative person but spending time with someone special is what makes me want to talk a lot, i might be the silent jealous type, not because I don't want to admit it but maybe because it's not my right to forbid my partner from interacting with anyone (I will stare at the person who is the reason I'm jealous). I'm also not the type of person who believes in "love at first sight", maybe other people feel it but not me

a little information about my appearance: I am about 176 cm tall. My hair is short Platinum blonde (dye), and black eyes and Oliver skin

Things I like : Flowers, Books, Rabbits, Spicy and sour food (but I'm not a picky eater), Going out or staying at home, Coffee, Drawing, and the color white

Things I hate : Lizard, smoke, Ghost, Horror game and movie ( I'm a scared cat ok-)

I'm sorry if it's too long and feel free to ignore this if you want to, and thanks if you read this. I'll see you soon

You are literally too sweet for words. Nothing can describe you accurately in the amount of sweetness and kindness you possess. Yet ever so valiant of the human traditions of pain and suffering. Even demons would be initially blinded in your radiance, mistaking you for the Virtue of Kindness. I’m not kidding, you are giving me a lot to work with. Let’s see if I can put my work up to the test…

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

I match you with…

Mammon!

——————————

Look, he is called a scumbag a lot, but he’s different with you. You both met under unfortunate circumstances and got forced into a very difficult situation to navigate, but you both figured it out slowly and like every slowburn romance novel that Satan reads, you fell for each other faster than Lucifer has even seen with Lilith back when they were still angels in the Celestial Realm

Now, it seems odd to put you guys together, but trust me, this works really well. He’s the voice when you’re the words, you fit together so well and would be totally lost without the other, no structure or flow to have anything go smoothly. You, the eye of the storm and he, the raging turbulence protecting you. He’s your first demon, he ain’t letting you go and he’s hoping you won’t let go of him either

Speaking of which, this demon has also raised a very angry creature. He gets angry and its many types, so when he sees you giving the cold shoulder to everyone and being way quieter? Bet on it that shit is gonna turn around real fast. He’ll offer to spend time with him on whatever sounds good in the moment. Whether it be homework, a joyride, or even just cuddling together, bet on it that he’s gonna convince you to be together alone for as long as it takes you to finally break and talk to him. He’s not even trying to talk over you either, he wholeheartedly listens to every little detail you’ll spare him. You deserve to be heard, you should know that better than anyone since you listen to him all the time

Will never actively let you walk by yourself when on a hike, let alone consider the idea of going on one if you’re not totally over the whole near death experience. While he does wanna show you the secret little places he’s found, he knows that you’re not for hikes, especially since you informed him of your last traumatic hike experience. He’s conflicted, he knows pictures will do it no justice, but at the same time he’s worried he’s never going to be able to show you some places he treasures and wants to share it with you. Please help him come to a decision already

Will immediately spend tons of Grimm he’s managed to save up to turn his room into a movie theater from home. He does get the appeal of the cinemas, but why not be able to have it all to yourself when you don’t feel like being sociable? He thinks this is a grand idea, Lucifer is less thrilled with the charges that Mammon has managed to rack up ever since learning your love for the cinemas

Will absolutely try to test your tastebuds against the Devildom’s spicy levels of food. He’s ridiculous and he needs to get that energy out somehow, eating spicy helps him stay at maintained levels of goofiness. He really does love it when you scarf down your food and on top of that be able to handle it? Super hot, literally and figuratively. Even when you can’t handle the heat, you both have a good laugh about it anyways. No shame in spice!

Has great relief that you are never willing to watch horror movies. As much as he claims otherwise, he’s terrified of the movies as he just gets so invested into it, he feels as though he’s part of the movie itself. That’s why he’s so scared of them, even if he knows it’s not real. He’s much more of a Fantasy, Action, and Adventure genres are more his type of movies. But minus the horror? He’s down to watch anything with you, no matter if it’s at the cinemas or in his room

Even if you seem like the opposite couple doomed to fail to everyone else, your relationship with Mammon is of energy balancing acts. If it fails, it’s hilarious at the end usually. If it succeeds, it’s a marvelous accomplishment in your guys’s relationship to be able to do a new thing without getting hurt for it. Sure there’s a few more bumps here and there, but he will never not be by your side

=================

The follow ups are:

Asmodeus

And

Leviathan

===================

That’s it folks, until next time!

~Fox

#obey me #obey me asmodeus #obey me leviathan #obey me mammon #om mammon #om leviathan #om asmodeus #obey me matchups #obey me shall we date #om satan #om lucifer #obey me lucifer #obey me satan

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phantom-le6 · 2 months

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Ramble of the month April 2024: Autism Month Ramble on Employment

At last, we come round to the third April, the third Autism Awareness Month, since I started doing monthly ramble articles, and so once again I’m drawing on my experiences as an autistic person to raise that awareness. For 2022, I looked at relationships, and last year the subject was education. This time, I’m going to look into the question of employment in relation to people with autism. This one is always a big concern for parents of children on the autistic spectrum, and as an employed autistic person struggling to get to an income level I can live alone on, it’s still a big concern for me as well. This is also a subject covered in the autism book I’m trying to publish, so here’s to road-testing that content a little more.

Now so far, I don’t get much feedback either way on my Tumblr posts, but I want to clarify some things before we go any further. First, what I’m writing here is very much going to be based on me as a private autistic individual. Nothing I say here should be in any way taken as a reflection on my day job, and if anyone does, that’s your mistake, and I bear no responsibility for it. Second, as a person with autism, I consider myself an ally to other groups that are misunderstood and subject to prejudice, so odds are as you go on, there might be elements that take a pro-LGBTQ+ stance. No offense is intended in anything I say, but if you take anything pro-LGBTQ+ as offensive, I recommend you stop reading now. For those carrying on, remember, I’m ok with constructive criticism, but I have no tolerance for bullying/trolling/abuse of any kind, so remember to keep any feedback civil, or otherwise please just refrain from commenting.

Now, as ever when I talk about autism, I always like to go over the basics of what autism is, how it can affect people who are autistic, and so on. First, autism is one of a number of conditions that falls under the umbrella of neurodiversity, which is a term used to describe the idea that there is more than one valid way for human minds and brains to function. Because these conditions result in deficits in certain skills and areas of learning, they’re often categorised as a form of disability or mental ill health, but in truth they are neither. I use the term ‘differently abled’ to describe myself because I can do most things non-autistics can; I just have to do them very differently in some cases. Likewise, autism is not a mental illness; it’s simply a different version of mental fitness, though we can still be affected by mental illness in ways similar to non-autistic people.

As to what causes autism, all anyone really knows is that people who are autistic are born that way. It’s not the result of vaccines, and as I noted last year, I view the claim that vaccines cause autism as a form of anti-autistic hate speech which should be criminalised accordingly. It’s also not the result of bad parenting or a lack of discipline, and while many autistics are prone to incidents of meltdown, these outbursts do not stem from aggressive or malicious personalities. Autistic people are on one “mental wave-length”, everyone else is on another such “wave-length”, and the frustration and friction between the two leads to incidents of meltdown.

Now let’s consider the traits of autism. Primarily, autism is defined by social skill deficits that fall into the three areas of what is known as the ‘Triad of Impairment’. If someone has traits within all three areas of the triad, as well as the other associated traits of autism, then they are almost certainly autistic. The first area of difficulty is Social Communication, which deals with how people put across what they want to say and the social skills linked to that. Second is Social Interaction, which are all the social skills you need to accurately interpret what others say to you. Third is Social Imagination, which is the aspect of social skills linked with your ability to anticipate how others may react to your words and actions.

The impairments in these areas seem to stem primarily from the fact that the mind of an autistic person doesn’t learn social skills automatically through observation and interpretation as non-autistics do. In effect, the “social skill auto-pilot” present in neurotypical minds is not present for autistic people, and we have to learn social skills through explicit, direct instruction and implement them in the same way. This also gives us a very literal mindset, making us prone to missing the point of jokes, or perhaps not even recognising where a joke has been told. Likewise, figures of speech and metaphor can be a major challenge for us (like Drax from the Marvel Cinematic Universe, but less stupid).

Other autistic traits include a high need for predictability to offset how confusing we find the world around us. Routine and advance knowledge of any major changes that we might find disruptive are two ways this need can be met, but a third that is highly unique to autistics is the concept of special interests. This can be anything we develop an interest in that we find predictable, and because predictability is vital to our mental well-being, special interests occupy a lot of our minds at any given time. For this reason, such interests can be mistaken for obsessions, but obsessions are ultimately joyless where special interests are highly enjoyable to us. Some also mistake them for hobbies, but that’s too casual a label given the role they play for autistic people.

The last couple of traits to go over are sensory issues and coinciding special needs. The first stems from the altered brain chemistry that results in autism, or such was the case last I heard, and causes senses to either be ramped up (hyper-sensitive) or ramped down (hypo-sensitive). These can result in behaviours known as “stimming”, which as I understand it is seeking a specific sensory experience as a way to calm down, though to be honest it’s one trait of autism I don’t think I’ve ever shown myself. As such, I’m not sure if it’s because it’s down to specific sensory needs (I’m a hearing-and-taste hyper-sensitive) or where someone is on the autistic spectrum. There’s also a general processing delay in terms of how long autistic people take to process new information, so at times we might seem a bit slow in our reactions to things, and can easily be flustered by the new and the unexpected; another reason for our dependence on predictability.

The final trait, that of coinciding special needs, means just that. Autistic people are very rarely just autistic. Many have other needs, though what these are vary quite widely. Some can have ADHD, be dyslexic, have major sensory impairments, and so on. In this respect, I’ve been sort of lucky in that my other special needs are a general impairment of my hand-eye co-ordination and gross motor skills. Granted, that almost certainly doesn’t combine well with my sensory processing delay, but at least it’s otherwise separate and distinct from my autism.

Now a moment ago I mentioned the concept of the autistic spectrum. Autism is a very varied form of neurodiversity, and when I used to give talks on the subject, a frequent phrase that came up at the talks was “when you’ve met one person with autism, you’ve met one person with autism.” Even looking at the handful of autistic people I was a part of when delivering those talks, that phrase is easily understood as true. However, the spectrum model of “high-to-low functioning” is often misinterpreted as being a sliding scale of autistic severity. This is totally untrue; a supposedly “high-functioning” autistic like myself can have needs just as profound as those of a “low-functioning” autistic.

To my mind, the misinterpretation stems from what are known as masking behaviours. These are any behaviours that effectively conceal autistic traits from being observed by mimicking neurotypical behaviours, and are the key reason why autism is often labelled a ‘hidden disability’. While the second part of that label is wrong for most people, the first part certainly explains why some autistic people are not diagnosed sooner in life, and I believe it accounts for the illusion of a functionality scale. In essence, so-called “high-functioning” autistics have very effective masking abilities, while “low-functioning” autistics are simply not capable of or interested in using these behaviours. As such, terms like “high-masking”, “heavy-masking”, “low-masking” or “light-masking” would make better sense of the spectrum concept. Also, the spectrum does not run all the way to neurotypical. Autistic people can be anywhere on the autistic spectrum, but neurotypical people aren’t on it, ever.

Given all of the above factors, I dare some of you may wonder how on Earth autistic people can get into the workforce. Honestly, it’s not easy, and that’s assuming we’re lucky enough to get qualifications and skills from our education that will even be considered by potential employers, never mind getting an interview and out-doing all other applicants to get offered the post. This means education is vital to help get your foot in the door anywhere; the better the results you can get and the higher you can go in terms of qualification, the better. As someone who could never work out what they wanted to be, was never advised how to tackle further education effectively and frankly went to a lousy secondary school where bullying was rife, I’ve often regretted not doing better with my own education. However, when the deck is stacked against you in terms of working out your future occupation and being left alone to study well for it, there’s not much to be done.

So, the first step is to work out what you can do and want to do before you get to your first chance to choose school subjects in education, then follow one or a few potential paths until the next subject selection opportunity narrows things further. This may not apply for everyone on the autistic spectrum, as some of us will be too low-masking to engage well with education, never mind employment, and it also depends where you live. If you’re aiming to be educated near to home as much as possible and you don’t live in or near a large city with a lot of employers in varying fields, your opportunities will be limited.

Another important thing to bear in mind is that living costs are almost constantly increasing with time, and not every job will meet those costs. This is something my education never covered, and frankly getting promoted enough to get ahead of those increases is extremely difficult as well. As such, I would advise anyone with an autistic child that’s trying to work out appropriate school subjects to really look at the potential wages of a future job role against cost-of-living expenses. If they can stand to study long enough in the right subject areas, a lot of autistic young people should be able to qualify for some really good initial job roles in certain areas. Combine that with some lessons about sound money management, and they’ll be more likely to achieve independence than if they just stumble from education into work at any level with no real idea what to do.

Of course, this leaves the question of knowing what job areas will best fit someone with autism, and that’s never an easy question to answer. Because autistic people vary so heavily from one another, one autistic’s ideal job might be another’s nightmare, but that being said, there are some common factors to all people with autism that can form the basics of a good framework for picking what kind of work to aim for. The most obvious is to remember that all job roles are likely to involve some interaction with other people, so you need to consider what that’s likely to mean for each job role and the autistic person aiming to do it.

For example, roles in shops, cafes and on a reception desk all mean dealing with a wide variety of people from the general public, whereas working in an office, a warehouse or a kitchen can shield you from the public a bit. That said, administrative roles can involve a lot of telephone conversations, so depending on whether you find phones easier or more difficult than face-to-face communication, this may be better or worse than a more in-person role. If you’re overly honest as an autistic person and struggle to employ tact or to “spin” the truth, you may not want to consider working in areas like car sales or real estate, as these roles need people that can stretch the truth slightly in order to succeed with customers.

Difficulty imparting the truth carefully could also hinder you if you’re looking at something in the medical profession, as it would probably be considered as a “poor bedside manner”, and work in that area also requires a lot of patience, the ability to show empathy well and to not only cope with people at their most vulnerable, but at their most sensory-affecting as well. I can well imagine that various aspects of physical illness could be overwhelming to sensory hyper-sensitives in the autistic community, as could some of the treatments. As a hearing hyper-sensitive myself, I think packed wards or waiting rooms would be a major issue for me if I’d ever gone into medicine in any fashion.

A job role connected to someone’s special interests may be advisable, but it depends what the special interest is. As a fan of superheroes living in an English city that is really more of a town, there’s never been much near to me that plays into my special interest except the occasional retail post, which doesn’t work for me. Likewise, an autistic person with a special interest in trains might do ok if that interest is more about timetables or trains in general. However, if their special interest is in steam locomotives, I’d caution against considering a job role at any heritage railways. Between such railways being mostly volunteer-run and the rising cost of suitable fuel, it’s very unlikely that anyone could make a decent living, especially during colder months of the year when services are either reduced or not running. As such, special interests might not work as the job itself, but they can be good motivation to get through the steps leading towards qualification and then employment.

Now let’s assume you’ve worked out what job you or your child want to do, depending on whether you’re the autistic child or their parent. Let’s assume education has then been followed as far as it can be, so now it’s down to getting a job, which is all about applying for jobs, hopefully getting an interview and, if you get said interview, getting hired. Not really easy, especially for jobs that ask for a CV instead of an application form. In my experience, CVs can be very limiting, especially for those of us on the autistic spectrum. The working world is as bad if not worse than education when it comes to accepting people with special needs into it, so autistic people are forced to work harder to convince employers that we’re as capable or more capable than everyone else.

On a CV, you only have so much space to use to tell an employer about yourself, your qualifications, your skills, what it is that makes you worth giving an interview to. Often a person with autism will need more space to make the case for their consideration as an interview/job candidate, because we’ve not only got to say why we’re deserving, we’ve also got to allay the employer’s concerns about our autism. Some people might argue that we could just try to apply without mentioning our autism, but this is just asking for trouble down the line as it would potentially delay or prevent the implementation of support in the workplace where needed.

By comparison, employers who provide a facility for an application form to be submitted, one where you can write a lengthy statement, are a much better option. Going down this route gives autistic job candidates the space necessary to impart all the information they need to. A good tip with this is to look on the job advert and any accompanying information for the criteria being used for the job role. A good statement of why you can do the job should answer these criteria, and if you’re not sure about writing a long run of paragraphs addressing the whole lot, break them down into bullet points and answer each in turn. As a long-time employee at an organisation that favours the application form approach, I can attest that this is a very good way to fill out the appropriate area of the application form asking why you think you can do the job.

When applying for job roles, always be aware of the catch-22 scenario around qualifications and experience. A lot of employers seem to expect experience before you may have had a chance to get it, and some may ask for qualifications you might not have. However, a lot will ask for either the qualifications or the experience, so where you might lack one, the other will compensate. After nearly 20 years of employment myself, I’m now using my experience more when looking at new jobs rather than my qualification, which were what I referenced more in my earlier job roles.

A good way to build up work experience while in further education can be to seek part-time job roles or temporary “summer jobs”, but this isn’t always advisable for people on the autistic spectrum. During term time, the extra time we get from free periods is best used to study, and we still need a lot of time to destress from using our social skills to interact with teachers, other students and so on. Also, while some summer jobs and school-based work experience can be useful, not all things available in this line would be relevant to the job roles you might be aiming for as an adult. You also may not get to perform anything more than some very basic tasks in some areas; the kind of things I did for my own work experience were extremely basic and menial compared to the kind of work I’m able to do now.

Another thing to bear in mind when applying for a job role is how will you get there. This is less of an issue in some areas of work due to the advent of home-working, and in certain trades you or a colleague would need a work vehicle, but in other areas being able to get from where you live to where you work is key. This is a potentially very limiting consideration if, like myself, you don’t drive and depend on ever-decreasing bus services for a commute. It puts you in a situation of being limited further still in terms of where you can work, because if you can’t get to the work location on a regular basis, you’re not likely to keep that job for any decent length of time.

For now, though, let’s assume you’ve found a job that you can get to with a reasonable amount of ease, you’ve applied for it and you’ve been offered an interview. Key thing to remember with this and with your job application is that you need to tell whoever is hiring for the job as much relevant information about yourself as possible. The less you tell them, or the more you tell them that isn’t relevant, the less likely you are to get the job. There is also such a thing as being too honest, especially when it comes to interview questions, and before all of that, you’ve got to make sure you assume an appropriate appearance.

Many people with autism struggle with things like hygiene or wearing certain forms of appropriate clothing. For some, it’s because we’re hyper-focused on our special interests and don’t recognise how our lapse in appearance and cleanliness affects others, or we do recognise it but it ranks a long way down from our special interests. For others, there may be sensory issues when it comes to certain fabrics, clothing styles and so on. However, for job interviews, it’s vital to make sure we’re well presented, and that we maintain some level of good hygiene and work-appropriate attire when in a given role. This is because how we appear to prospective employees, and later to colleagues and customers, gives them a sense of how professional we can be. The better we appear to others, the more likely they are to trust us and want to work with us.

Now not every job role will have identical dress standards, but for interviews, basic elements like a suit, shirt and tie, or an appropriate equivalent in women’s attire, are almost a universal constant. It’s often worth asking about what appropriate work attire will be if you’re entirely new to a given area of work, and in some office-based work, standards of attire can vary from team to team. As interviews often involve giving you a chance as an applicant to ask questions towards the end, asking about the dress code for the role you’re going for can be a good one to have at hand, especially if you know enough about the role that you’ve not got any questions regarding your duties if you get it.

Next, be sure to prepare by considering what questions you might be asked and get some answers ready. If you have a parent/carer, relative or family friend with experience of the organisation you’re aiming to work in, or just with going through interviews generally, it can often be a good idea for them to go through the information you have on the job you’re going to be interviewed for. They can help you work out what the questions might relate to and help you to work out your answers in advance. A key thing to remember here is not to tell the full, unabashed truth in answering all questions. For instance, it’s not socially acceptable to say you want a job because you want money, since outside of zero-hour contracts, work experience or unpaid internships, all jobs should involve paying you. Likewise, anything to the effect of “don’t know” or “my parents are making me” are also unwise, and if a person with autism can’t bring themselves to hold these answers in while saying something else, then they’re probably not ready to enter the work force just yet.

This is where going for jobs linked to the things that you like or that you can do very well will come in useful, as these could be considered as reasons why you’ve gone for a certain job or employer over others. Learning something about the employer you’re interviewing with can also be useful, especially if you can reword things from their website, etc. into your answers to demonstrate you’ve done research on them. As I’ve noted before, also have a question or two ready to ask the interview person/panel when they finish asking you questions. Employers should also provide reasonable adjustments for you to attend an interview or do the job role, so make sure you ask for this in applying and if you get the job, but you shouldn’t need to ask about these during an interview. A good interview reasonable adjustment is to flag up that you may need them to re-ask questions with different phrasing if you don’t quite understand it to begin with. If an employer isn’t meeting your reasonable adjustment requests at the interview stage, I’d advise against taking the job to avoid working for an unsupportive employer.

Let’s say you follow the advice above all the way to interview stage and get a job as an autistic employee somewhere. What’s next? Well, if you’re already in a job role, you’ll have to give notice at your previous job role and finish up there before you can start a new job. If you’ve been on unemployment benefits, you’ll have to advise of the change at the job centre where you sign on, but I’d advise waiting until just before you start in order to avoid a massive gap between when the benefits end and your work starts. If, for example, you start a new job on a Monday, the Friday before is probably the optimum date to let the job centre know.

Bear in mind that different employers have different timescales for when employees are paid, so be sure to ask about when you will be paid in your new job role if you don’t already know, but be careful about when you ask. A good timing would be at your interview after you’ve asked one or two questions of your own unrelated to pay. Knowing when to expect your work pay for the first time after your unemployment benefit ends will help you plan your finances better to cover that interim period.

Now all jobs are different, and you can end up with colleagues, team-mates, managers and customers that can be very nice, very nasty or anywhere in between. There’s no guarantee that the person/people who did your interview will work directly with you, and if they do, their behaviour at the interview might not be how they act day-to-day in the office. Also bear in mind that jobs are advertised and interviewed for in “broad strokes”, covering things in a very generalised sense and rarely over going into exact details. If a job role is newly created within a given employer, exact details may not even be something that exist yet, and you may be taking a role in shaping what the job is when you get it.

Given all of this, I can’t tell you with absolute certainty what may be involved in each and every job you could get. That said, I will impart some advice that is important to learn. First, gossip is the native language of almost every work environment humanity has ever produced. There is no workplace in existence where there won’t be at least a few people spending too much time in idle gossip, and at least one person quite happy to throw their colleagues under the proverbial bus if they see anything they consider worth tattling on. As such, it’s often best to keep your head down, work hard and learn as soon as you can the difference between friendly office banter and potentially harmful gossip.

Second, avoid mixing work and romance. Colleagues and relations of colleagues are not the best people to get involved with romantically, sexually or both. It feeds the rumour mill of any workplace, it risks giving people the wrong idea about you, and if the relationship falls apart, it can make your work life very problematic if not impossible. Even if you move job roles in an attempt to resolve the issue, this can also backfire. As such, it is generally advisable to leave your work life and your love/sex life separate from each other.

Third, a lot of employers will only step in to enforce their rules if an incident affects their public image. Internal issues like bullying, especially between two members of the same team where the bully is a position of authority over the victim, are seldom if ever dealt with. Some of this is because the victim has to report the incident, so there’s no mechanism to ensure a safe means of reporting such issues if the bully is the victim’s manager and the victim is afraid of reprisals. By comparison, any actions that are likely to reflect badly on the employer because they’ve happened in public or the effect is publicly visible are often dealt with very swiftly and harshly. This means many employees, especially those of us on the autistic spectrum, can at times find ourselves walking on eggshells in what few jobs we can get, afraid to even breathe out of turn, much less report any workplace issues or incidents that adversely affect us.

Of course, autistics and others in the work place shouldn’t have to deal with some of these things, and more needs to be done to deal with them better. Firstly, we should be working harder as a society to stamp out discrimination and bullying, and we should be criminalising bullying and increasing education about the various ways people differ from one another. This would help not just autistics and the wider differently abled community, but also people of colour, women, members of the LGBTQ+ community and more besides, some of whom will also happen to be autistic. If we were more tolerant of differences and less tolerant of people ill-treating each other over their various differences, we’d have nice education and work environments to work in, not to mention what it would do to improve social media.

More also needs to be done to help ensure autistic applicants not only have an equitable chance at gaining jobs, but also being promoted within the organisations they join. More employers using job application forms over CVs would aid with this, as would considering less use of interviews and more use of testing models. Now by test, I’m not saying make everyone sit exams to get jobs, because that is akin to interviews in that it's all about regurgitating answers on cue. As useful as these tools can be, when you boil them down, a trained parrot could pass an interview if it knew the right words. When you look for someone to fill a vacancy, you need someone who can do the job well, and outside of acting or politics, not many jobs involving repeating a bunch of canned blather.

So, what do I mean by more testing? Simply put, I mean what tests set alongside interviews have done for years; set a bunch of tasks to be done within a given time-frame, then see how someone performs them. If the instructions are suitably literal to ensure both autistics and non-autistics understand them well, this can be a better gauge of an autistic person’s suitability for a given role, because it demonstrates the abilities they would use day-in and day-out. By comparison, the social skill demands of an interview may be in excess of not only the job role’s requirements, but also an autistic’s ability to handle from a social skills perspective.

It’s also worth bearing in mind that while autistics and other differently abled people are allowed reasonable adjustments, we don’t always get them. Some employers will have different ideas about what adjustments are “reasonable”, and some will claim that because a given support option would be refused by someone of a higher position to your manager, there’s no point in asking. As far as I can tell, there isn’t much support to enforce the legislation around reasonable adjustments when these kinds of issues become apparent, and to be fair, it shouldn’t be necessary.

What do I mean by this? Well, as I’ve noted before, the world is made by those without autism for those without autism, and as a result, autistics are made to jump through extra hoops, tackle additional obstacles that non-autistic people never have to contend with. The same is true when we look at differently abled people in general, or if we consider things like skin colour, sex, gender identity, sexuality, religion and so on. Whoever is in power within a society rigs that society in their own favour at the expense of anyone different, and all changes made to bridge the gap actually just disguise it to create a feeling of false equality. True equality only exists when a society is created to fit all groups within it by default, so for autistic people, a truly equal society would be designed with us in mind from the very beginning. If that was so, then we wouldn’t need reasonable adjustments at school or work because education and employment would take all facets of autism into account by default.

This is the most vital change that all groups in society need, for those in power who rig society against us to abandon their arrogance and selfishness, and address needs other than their own. Whether the divide is autistic and non-autistic, black and white, women and men, straight/cis and LGBTQ+, or whatever else you can think of, no one on either side should be making the other side jump through extra hoops. It should be equally easy, equally possible, for people with the right qualifications to apply for jobs, go to some form of test and be selected without any aspect of the process requiring a “reasonable adjustment.” In the meantime, if we can’t have this, then we should at least have a facility within all employers that states that no one can refuse a reasonable adjustment just because the people who want it aren’t in a position of authority over the people who need to say yes to it. If someone needs an adjustment, you make it, end of discussion, and if you don’t like, just remember this; the whole is made by people like you, for people like you, and you’ve had that privilege all your life, so please don’t be selfish when someone less fortunate is asking for a little equality and human decency.

To summarise, getting into employment is not easy when you’re on the autistic spectrum, and neither is retaining a job or gaining promotions once you are employed. We need to deal with a lot of issues other people don’t, we don’t always get the support we need, and much of what we need stems from the arrogance and selfishness of non-autistic society. When that society is more humble, more selfless and more willing to treat us as equals, this will be better, but I doubt we’ll see a society like that anytime soon. So, for now, good luck to my fellow autistics with anything they’re trying to get job-wise, and until my next ramble, ta-ta for now.

#autism awareness

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one-boring-person · 3 years

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Okay but fr

Im Rambos’ overprotective, questionable, violent(not towards him) and haunted s/o who makes him candles and teaches him to quilt.

And he can come pet my cows to relax, and if anyone says shit to him all they see is a big metal agender bastard coming to fuck them up…

Idk…just feel he needs a tired, metal, badass s/o who’s only soft spot is for him and they show him the good things in life again

Bruh i want to be this for him too!😭😭❤

Gladly.

John Rambo (Last Blood) x reader

Warnings: mention of war, mention of PTSD, probably inaccurate farm related shit, bad language

Masterlist

"Hey, John? You got a minute?" (Y/n)'s voice startles the veteran as they poke their head around the door, an expression of barely contained excitement on their face.

Looking up in surprise, John stops his movements before he accidentally sticks himself with the needle in his hands, putting the bundle of fabric down in his lap.

"Yeah. What do you need?" He rumbles, frowning a little, curiosity piqued by their jittery behaviour.

"Wanna help me with the foals? It's their first time outside." They grin, speaking quickly.

John considers the offer, remembering back to his time on his father's ranch, back when he was a kid: the foaling season, or more accurately, the time after had always been his favourite, seeing the young animals exploring the world for the first time. When he was a teen, his father had once let him pick a foal to raise himself, a small buckskin mare with a fiery demeanour that made for some interesting riding. He'd trained her up and had ridden her in many a race, though he's certain now his father had sold her as soon as he had left for the army. Eager to see the sights of his childhood again, John nods in agreement, climbing to his feet with some vigour.

"Yeah, I'll help. Let me just get some boots on." He tells (Y/n), placing his sewing aside and moving to follow them out into the hall.

"Ok, I'll wait for you outside." They reply, turning and leaving through the front door, allowing it to swing slightly behind them.

Swiftly, John pulls on his thick-soled boots, lacing them up tightly before pulling his trousers leg down over the top of them. Years ago, he would've tucked them in, but (Y/n) had once told him that the action would always remind him too much of his old occupation and habits, and that it might be healthier for his head if he tried to breach these second-nature quirks. Shaking his head, he almost smiles at the reminder of the words they'd used to describe it, straightening as he goes to leave through the door, grabbing his battered old Stetson on the way out.

As usual for this part of Arizona, the sun is beaming down onto the ranch, heating every available surface mercilessly. The air is hot and dry, too, but John's used to it by now - the contrast with the thick, humid jungles of Vietnam always helps to calm him, too. He sometimes misses the sweltering heat of Thailand, but he knows now he only ever liked it because it was familiar, and kept him in a mindset he knew he could function under. Now, he's changed.

John makes his way over to (Y/n), who's stood before the smaller barn they've set aside for the foals in their youth, tipping his hat down over his eyes to shield them from the blazing sun. Already, he can hear the muffled whinnys of the young horses, the excited creatures keen to get out and explore properly for the first time. He feels his expression soften a little at the familiar sound, a smile trying to pull at the corner of his lips as he moves in beside (Y/n).

"Come on." They grin, pushing open the door.

Stepping inside, the two are immediately faced with a barrage of happy snorts and neighs, five gangly foals pushing at the gate holding them back. John has seen them before, but hasn't been in such close proximity, leaving (Y/n) to work with them for the most part, given his speciality in the older horses, so he finds himself marvelling at their oddly amusing antics. They're all about the same size, nudging and pushing at each other in their haste to get out.

"How do you wanna do this?" John asks, looking at (Y/n) expectantly, before eyeing the far door, which leads to a small field behind the stable.

"Get a lead on 'em and get them out one by one. It'll be safer than if they all rush forward."

"Ok."

The two move to take up a few leading ropes each, swiftly fashioning slipknot into them to easily but safely close around the foals' necks. As they climb into the pen, the young horses move to nose at their clothes and hands, snorting softly at them. One, a small black-and-white palomino, thrusts his head into John's coat, whinnying gently to him. Unable to help the small smile the plays on his lips, he carefully lifts the foal's head and slips the lead over his neck, tugging it to tighten ever so slightly. Standing, lightly ties the line to a nearby fence post, before repeating the action with two of the others, waiting for (Y/n) to finish up. Once they have, he takes a foal's leash and heads to the far door, which he pushes open and steps through, taking the cheerful horse with him.

As they step outside, the two foals picked first pull at their lines, excited as they try to leave and explore. John is quick to walk on into the field itself, getting halfway before he leans down and gently slips the rope off of the foal's neck. Instantly, she bounds off, gangly legs moving quickly as she rushes to check the area out. It's not long before she's joined by her brother, who also hurries about wildly. Chuckling, John turns his back and moves to repeat his action, the two ranchers soon managing to get all the foals into the field.

Standing back, they watch as the youngsters explore, neighing in curiosity and surprise when they find plants they haven't encountered before, a couple calling out to the stallions in the field over. Laughing amongst themselves, and pointing out a few in particular, John and (Y/n) follow the small palomino from before, who consistently trots up to John to judge against him.

"You know, I think he likes you." (Y/n) laughs, ruffling the foal's mane as he shuffles past.

"I guess so." The veteran smiles and watches as the young horses bounds back over to his friends, turning his gaze on (Y/n) instead.

He can't help the flush of affection he feels for them, eyes roaming over the familiar torn jeans, fading Guns 'n Roses shirt that hangs loosely over their muscular build and the bright grin in place on their face. Suddenly, he feels the urge to say something, so he reaches across and takes their hand in his. Surprised, they look at him, head cocked in that way he loves.

"John?" They ask, turning to him.

Taking a breath, he smiles at them.

"Thank you. For this, for showing me that there is still good in my life." He murmurs, knowing they'll hear him.

It takes them aback, he can tell, but the glowing smile he's rewarded with makes his heart ache for them, itching to take them in his arms and hold them close.

"You didn't need me to find it, I just helped a little. And I'll do it again. Gladly." They reply softly, squeezing his hand before stepping forward and wrapping their arms around him.

Returning the gesture, John melts into the embrace, holding them tightly against him.

Tag List - @the-mind-of-moss @80s4life @snowgoldwaylon @slystallone @feirceangel

#sylvester stallone #rambo #break writes #john rambo #rambo x reader #John Rambo x reader #John Rambo imagine #Rambo imagine

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meichenxi · 3 years

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Ooh anything about linguistics and/or Chinese linguistics that interests you- what do you find most interesting?

Ooooo thank you! First let me apologise for the lack of rigour i.e. sources - I am ILL.

HMMMMM ok...let me talk a little bit about one thing I find fascinating - the idea of 'linguistic complexity'. It's an interesting topic that a) demonstrates the failures of linguistics that only takes Indo-European languages into account; b) demonstrates how a conflation of linguistic and moral judgements leads to absolute chaos; and c) proves that sometimes the purpose of all models and hypotheses is to be a useful aid in description, and not to be 100% accurate. Which means that multiple models can exist at the same time. Also, it shows just how cool Classical Chinese is.

I'm going to make this into two posts because I have been asked to wax lyrical on this stuff twice...this one will be a general overview of what linguistic complexity is and some of the issues around it, and the other post (@karolincki 's ask) will be an overview of these issues as pertaining to Modern and Classical Chinese.

Linguistic complexity: an introduction

What is linguistic complexity? Basically what it says on the tin: how 'simple' or 'complex' is one language in relation to another. If you automatically think that sounds dodgy - aren't all languages equally complex? what is a simple language? etc - just hold on. We'll get there.

A very important starting point: complexity here only refers to linguistic complexity. There are many ways to measure this, but broadly speaking it refers to the amount of stuff in a language a learner has to deal with. Are there genders? Well, that's more complex than not having any, because it's an extra thing to remember. Do you have to express whether the information you're conveying is something you personally experienced or hearsay? Again, more complex than not. Different tenses? Essentially, you can look at complexity like this: if you were describing this language or putting it into a computer program, what is the minimum length of description you would need? The longer the description, the more complex the language. In a standard understanding of complexity, a language like English is more complex than a language like Vietnamese (English has more tenses, moods, conjugations, irregularity...), and a language like Georgian is more complex than a language like English (Google a single verb table of Georgian and you will see what I mean).

(this will be long)

What complexity does not mean is anything to do with the cognitive abilities of the people who speak it. It doesn't mean that people who speak English are unable to conceive of the difference between a dual and a plural (2 apples and 3 apples), just because the language doesn't mark it. It doesn't mean people who speak Chinese are unable to conceive of the past conditional ('I should have gone...') just because they don't have a separate tense for it. It doesn't mean Italian speakers don't know whether they experienced the thing themselves, or heard about it from someone else, just because they don't have a set verb ending for it. All linguistic complexity means is what the language requires you to express.

I'm putting this out there very clearly because this sort of thinking is bound up in a lot of racist ideas and ideology. You'll have heard of the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis? Unfortunately named, since they never really worked together, and Edward Sapir was actually a relatively cool dude for the time who argued against linguistic relativity - i.e. the language you speak determines how you think. Yes, in the 19th (and much of the 20th) century, when certain linguists referred to 'simple' and 'complex' languages that is what many of them meant: speakers of a simple language are 'simple', and a complex one are 'complex'. But there was a huge backlash against these racist ideas, and that backlash was hugely influential is shaping the direction of typology (the branch of linguistics which is broadly concerned with these sorts of questions). More on that later, but for now: please understand that when I say linguistic complexity, I am not implying a single thing about the people that speak it.

Back to complexity. Of course language, like any system, is made up of moving parts: you don't just need to consider how many parts it has, but also how interdependent they are, whether they interact with each other in a predictable way, how likely they are to change. You might also want to consider how easy the system is to learn for somebody who has never used it before. And then, of course, languages are more complex still because they are not machines, but ever-changing things: do you count a rule like the conditional inversion in English, which only applies to a total of three verbs? Is that less complex because fewer verbs use it - and therefore you need to think about it less - or does that make the system more complex because you need another, meta-rule to say when you need to use it and when not? What about irregularity? Is a language like English that doesn't have many rules but has a sizeable amount of 'irregular' verbs more or less complicated than a language like Swahili which has a lot more rules, but follows them assiduously? And what happens when some people use one rule and others don't - do you count those as the same language (lumping), which may render the grand overview less accurate, or do you count them as totally separate languages (splitting), in which case when do you stop?

Hmm. Complexity. Is. Complex.

Those are a lot of factors that need to be considered here. Even saying something is 'irregular' doesn't mean very much without further quantification. For example, if I say that the 'irregular' verb ring goes to ring, rang, rung in English, you can very easily find other verbs which conjugate similarly: sing, sang, sung etc. So is that really irregular? Or is it just another, less productive rule? But then if it's a rule, why do we say fling, flung, flung and not yesterday I flang the ball? What's going on???

And what about 'total' irregularity, so called 'suppletion', where (and this is a very scientific explanation) a random non-related word just seems to appear in a paradigm, like it's got lost on the way home? Like I go, I went; like to be, I am, he is, I were; like good, better, best. Ok, so is the irregularity in I go and I went somehow....more irregular than irregularity in I sing and I sang? Uhh. Ok. And then is the irregularity in bad, worse, worst somehow more irregular than better and best, because at least for better and best you can see the -er and -st endings?? Finally, what about a 'spoken' but very predictable irregularity, such as the way we have a reduced vowel in 'says'? Where do we count that? Is that more irregular, or less irregular? Is it maybe 33% irregular?

I think you get the point. And of course all of this becomes more complex when you start to consider the interaction of lots of different systems at once. What about tone? If you have regular tone like Chinese, most people would agree that it's more complex because it's an added thing. But tone probably only developed in part as a response to losing some really important sound contrasts that other languages have kept...and also there is no possibilities of 'irregularities' in tone the way there are in something like verb conjugation...you can't just have a random sixth tone. And then what about syntax? If you have lots of very complex word ordering rules, is that more or less complex than a language where you have to rely on the human being to use pragmatics to infer what the ever loving fuck is going on?

Yeah. This is sort of just one of those things where every year a new linguist comes up with a spicy new matrix to 'measure' complexity and then everyone shits on them in journals and then comes up with their own idea which is promptly shat on. I don't know either.

Ok, so how is this relevant to Chinese?

To answer that question we need to circle round a bit to the history of typology that I vaguely alluded to earlier. At various points - depending on how racist the linguist in question was - people in the 20th century were starting to realise that all of this stuff about 'complex language = complex civilisation / complex thought' wasn't quite as water-tight as they'd hoped. Perhaps it was their better judgement, but it's also likely to have been influenced by a lot of contact suddenly with Native American languages - many of which are vastly complex by literally any metric you could possibly imagine, but the people speaking them were not colonising other countries and building amphitheatres and all of those necessarily, comfortingly European ideas of 'civilisation'. This movement away from such racist ideology, even if it was fuelled in part by a different type of racism, meant that suddenly everyone was very wary about making statements about linguistic complexity at all. It smacked of all the things they were trying not to be associated with.

I'm going to quote some Edward Sapir here for no other reason than I think it's really unfortunate that he's most famous for something that has the potential for incredibly racist ideology that he literally never said:

'Intermingled with this scientific prejudice and largely anticipating it was another, a more human one. The vast majority of linguistic theorists themselves spoke languages of a certain type, of which the most fully developed varieties were the Latin and Greek that they had learned in their childhood. It was not difficult for them to be persuaded that these familiar languages represented the “highest” development that speech had yet attained and that all other types were but steps on the way to this beloved “inflective” type. Whatever conformed to the pattern of Sanskrit and Greek and Latin and German was accepted as expressive of the “highest,” whatever departed from it was frowned upon as a shortcoming or was at best an interesting aberration. Now any classification that starts with preconceived values or that works up to sentimental satisfactions is self-condemned as unscientific. A linguist that insists on talking about the Latin type of morphology as though it were necessarily the high-water mark of linguistic development is like the zoölogist that sees in the organic world a huge conspiracy to evolve the race-horse or the Jersey cow.'

People generally began to get the hang of it after this, and stepped away from linguistic classification at all. There was a broad consensus that that sort of thing was done with, a thing of the past. It's kind of funny, because of course people's unwillingness to look at the complexity of language because 'all people are the same' shows that they still think language and culture/cognition are intimately linked! It was done out of a desire to not be racist, but you can't even reach that conclusion unless you have a sneaky secret bit of bioessentialism going on in your sneaky little brain. Because if the complexity of language doesn't reflect the complexity of your thought, why would it matter whether some systems are bigger than others? That they had more parts?

It literally wouldn't matter at all..

So what happened next? Linguists started to revisit these old linguistic classifications and ideas of complexity, but in the hope of proving, instead, that actually all languages were equal. You can definitely see the theoretical aims here: not only is a good from an ideological point of view (again, if you still equate linguistic complexity to complexity of thought), but it's also quite handy if you believe that all human babies approach language learning with the same biological apparatus ('Universal Grammar', if you believe in that, and other cognitive principles). If all babies have the same built-in gear, you sort of want the task they are given to be of roughly the same magnitude. That's one of those things linguists like to call theoretically desirable - which just means it would be neat if it did.

We're getting to Chinese. I promise.

So how you could make systems so vastly different as English and Georgian and Chinese roughly the 'same' level of complexity? One answer is irregularity: languages with huuuuuge verb and noun declensions like Georgian tend to have very little irregularity, where languages with less extensive systems like English tend to keep it around for longer. There are lots of reasons for this I won't go into, but it's a general trend. Irregular systems are more work for the brain to remember, which, predictably, is more 'complex' for a learner to acquire. Compare a language like English and German: German may have more cases and declensions and rules, but once you learn them...that's it. Compare that to English, where you'll be learning phrasal verbs and prepositions as a second language learner until the day you die (and possibly beyond). It's a different type of 'complex', but it's still deserving of the title.

That obviously doesn't work for a language like Chinese. Chinese has no conjugations, and so can't possibly have any irregularity in the same way. But fear not: there are lots and lots and lots of ways in which languages often exhibit what might be called 'complexity tradeoffs': languages with complex tone, for example, almost always have simpler sound systems elsewhere, and many languages with complex case arrangements tend to have free word order. One thing is complex, another...simplex (a word unfortunately genuinely in use).

This seems nice. We like this. It means that the different parts of the same system may be differently sized, but the whole system in total is about the same as any of other language. There’s just one problem: this isn’t how languages seem to work.

For every example of a complexity trade-off you can find, there are other languages which don’t have any such ‘trade off’ at all. There are plenty of languages where grammar is complex and the sound system is complex; or languages like Icelandic and German where there are cases but fairly rigid and fixed word order; or other cases where there is a huge amount of irregularity but also crazy verb systems, and so on. A language like Abkhaz has supposedly 58 consonants in the literary dialect: but it also has insanely complicated grammar. No trade-off there. Finally, it has long been presumed that whilst verb morphology etc is simpler in languages like Chinese, syntax would be more complicated: recently, a number of studies have proved exactly the opposite. Both, in fact, are simpler.

In conclusion, where does this leave us? Whilst the idea behind complexity trade-offs is well-motivated but not totally sound, and whilst these do not always seem to be present in the way you might hope, what this does do is force us as linguists to question whether we have spent enough time considering the types of complexity that are present in languages like Chinese, and how we reconcile that with more ‘familiar’ complexity. It’s interesting to think about because it shows what happens when you fail to consider these things.

That’s all for the overview on linguistic complexity today!! I’ll talk specifically about complexity in Chinese in the next ask, because this is already very long. Be aware, I’m not going to give you any answers necessarily - these questions are way above my pay grade - but boy can I give you some thoughts.

#chinese #linguistics #langblr #lingblr #linguistic complexity #meichenxi manages #askies #oh my god I am so looking forward to writing the next one #it's so spicy #love remembering that I actually sometimes know things lmao #stop the false equivalence of Sapir = the Sapir-whorf hypothesis 2k21 #the dude was actually quite progressive for his time #sighhhhh *squints at actual linguistics* hope this doesn't awaken anything in me #like the desire to go and do a masters #I hope this makes sense and I hope no one yells at me #if you want any sources I'm happy to give I'm just lazy and ill #source = brain #no I really do have books I promise

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dilfbane · 3 years

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It Gets Better(A Silky Pearl)

Summary: It’s been a long time since things have gotten this bad. Loki, returned from his latest mission, lets you know that, with help and support, you can overcome the worst of things, and makes sure you know that he’ll be there with you to get you through it, each and every day.

Pairing: Loki/Female Reader

Warnings: Reader in this fic struggles with eating disorders. Thoughts and feelings related to these(specifically to anorexia and bulimia), are made throughout the fic, especially those that, in my personal experience, people with these disorders experience. I cannot stress enough that this will be discussed/referenced/talked about, sometimes explicitly(Though not graphically) and sometimes implicitly, so please be aware of that and know that it’s OK to take care of yourself and skip this one if that would be triggering to you!

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: I want to preface this by saying that there are a LOT of people, both here and on AO3, who have made some amazing Loki/reader oneshots where the reader is struggling with mental health and/or physical health issues, that really provide a sense of warmth and fluff and support to people who may be going through those things themselves, and I’ve taken a lot of comfort in those fics over the course of the pandemic(I’ll be shouting out a couple of them in the tags!). I want to acknowledge that these exist, and that they’re awesome and have partly inspired my own writing, before talking about this little project I’m embarking on.

Because, while I have gotten a lot of comfort out of many of those pieces of writing, there are definitely some things which I feel like aren’t talked about as much in pieces like these which I have gone through, and which a lot of other people have gone/are going through, and…. I figured that maybe I could take a crack at trying to provide that hit of fluff for people dealing with those things, if I can, and hopefully use my own experience with them to do it in as respecful and accurate a way as possible.

All that being said, the first oneshot in this little project is going to be dealing with a pretty heavy subject, that being eating disorders. The reader in this fic does struggle with eating disorders - specifically anorexia and bulimia. I will not be actively describing anything too graphic about these disorders in this fic, except to highlight through implication and some sparse details that this is what’s happening here, as well as show some of the inner thought processes of the reader, but there definitely is enough in here to show that that’s what’s going on, so if anyone would be triggered by that, please take care of yourselves and give this one a pass! Also, I will further disclaim that there are many types of eating disorders, and everyone’s experience with them is different. In this oneshot, I wrote based off what I know to have been true during the time in my life when I struggled with the same conditions, and I really tried to make the fluff and support as kind and encouraging as I possibly could. If for ANY REASON there’s something that I did badly at, or something that’s disrespectful, anyone reading this may feel more than free to let me know and I’ll do my best to fix it! I don’t want this fic to be a place where anyone feels hurt or disrespected, that isn’t my intention at all, and if I make a mistake in that regard for any reason whatsoever, I would really appreciate knowing so that I can correct it!

Anyways, after that extremely lengthy A/N, just… please know, if you’re going through something like this, that you’re not alone, that help does exist and is out there, and that you are seen and heard. And take this Loki fluff, because honestly, there can never be too much of that in the world!

You know that he worries about you. Even before his latest, three-week mission, you know that he worried about you. In the mornings, as you pour your coffee, you watch him watch you with careful nonchalance, gaze boring into the back of your head, slight furrow creasing his eyebrows, frown pulling small at his lips. He dresses early, because he wakes early; it is a battle, most mornings, for you to get out of bed. And so what, if you take your coffee with more creamer than is necessarily normal - it has to last you a long time, this coffee. You need the sugar of it, to get you to that clean pain. It is sharper, more real, than any scalpel, any knife that Loki keeps concealed by his armor; all that fine Asgardian leather, green and supple and him. It gives you back the control that you lack. Lets you be the person that you would be.

It’s not that you’re afraid of your body, but you are ashamed by it; cannot fathom, even now with his gaze on you, that Loki could love somebody so dreadfully overweight.

Today, though - Today, you had thought, you had hoped, that it might be different. You don’t know why you have that hope, but it brims up in you; a physical need, a visible yearning, for you to be enough for once. Someone that Loki can stand to look at. Someone that Loki can love. He is looking at you now like he’s seeing you for the first time, and you flinch from the frown that creases his piercing gaze, unable to bear how it roves up the planes of your body; silhoutted in the light coming in through the window, you can feel each ounce of fat that stretches over your sinew, cartilage. (You know that Loki hates your body - He traces it sometimes like he’s probing you, trying to find where your bones are. You wish that you could call him on it, and know that you never could).

You stand at the counter, and turn from him; rummage in the cabinet for your coffee mug with shaking fingers; you almost feel like they’re rubber. Blue and cold, like his Jotun skin, but you know that it isn’t enough. Pins and needles prick at them - you can almost convince yourself that it’s only your guilt and shame, but you cannot hide from the pain suffusing Loki’s voice when he speaks.

“Darling,” He says, on a shaky breath, “We need to talk about this.”

“I know -” You tell him - you know that you can’t run from this, anymore. He knows how you look, how nothing you do is fixing it. And now, he’s going to leave you. “I know, Loki - I tried, Loki, I’m so sorry -“

The agony that wells up in you threatens to overwhelm your ability to speak, and you feel your knees buckle the second before you fall. Your kneecaps slam against the cupboard underneath the sink, your head hitting the edge of the counter as you slide down hard to the floor. It hurts. But every part of your body hurts, these days. It’s as constant as your worthlessness. And something else, too -

He is there, on the floor with you, in less time than it takes place to blink, pulling you hard and desperate into his arms; you don’t understand why, and you try to wrench yourself from him, sobs bubbling up and spilling out from your tightly shut eyes. You can feel the bruises starting to form on you, a lump throbbing at your temple.

“Love,” He is saying, “Y/N, sweetheart, come back to me. Come back to me, darling, please.” He is stroking your hair; you feel his fingers at its strands, thin and brittle. God, you think, how pathetic you are - you can’t even keep yourself pretty for him, for this god and all the sacrifices that he’s made. You cry harder, unable to stop your own wailing. When you finally do, you’re exhausted - it takes everything out of you.

“Loki,” You say, on a wretched whine, “I’m so cold.”

“Hush,” He says, “You’re alright. You’ll be warm soon - We’ll sort it, darling, I promise.”

You don’t know how to tell him that it isn’t something you can sort, but somehow you know, deep in your heart, that Loki understands. Still, his voice is so sweet, and the shudders that wrack you begin to halt in the steady hold of his embrace; the tender brush of his fingers over your skin. You feel like you can look at him, now, so you do it, sucking your bottom lip into your teeth to steel yourself for the cruel things you’re certain he’ll start with. But Loki’s gaze isn’t angry at you, not full of fury or disgust. They sparkle with unshed tears and concern, emerald in the daylight. It takes you a moment too long to realize all that pain, all that worry, is for you; when you do, though, you flinch away. Feel Loki’s fingers drop from your hairline to your cheek, then your chin, tilting your head up so that you can’t run and hide.

“I’m losing you, love,” Loki says. His voice is low, and steeped in sorrow. It is his turn to look down, with guilt and shame, and you feel a pang blossom, raw and red, in your heart. He sighs, and straightens his shoulders. He is filled with some new resolution, some new determination you can’t wince away from.

“I need to know,” Loki tells you, “How long this has been going on. I need to - I need you to tell me why, love. I can’t bear to see you like this.”

“I can’t,” You say, blinking back a fresh torrent of tears, “Tell you why. It’s not - I can’t - I don’t know.”

But you know, and Loki does, too. It’s the god of lies, holding you - of course he can tell that you’re lying. It is something other, and runs deep, this bone-y reluctance. A complex game of mental gymnastics. How could you ever tell Loki about the control that it gives you, the desperation with which you used all your calorie-counting and aching restraint to regain the love that you lost? The nights bent over toilet bowls; the way that, sometimes, you empty stomach made you dig your nails hard into your palms ’til they bled, to stop yourself from crying out at the pain. And he loves you - the part of you that craves his affection, that yearns to burrow fast and fierce into Loki’s embrace and spill all your secrets to him, makes sure to remind you of that.

“Y/N,” Says Loki, soft and tender, yet infused with a note so harsh that you would wince, if you could. “You can tell me anything. You need to.”

You notice things, now, in the face of his determination. You notice that Loki is looking at you like he’s in physical pain, and that there’s something sticky and red on the pads of the fingers that brushed up against your head.

“I’m bleeding,” You say. It comes out soft, horrified.

The frown that creases Loki’s face would bring you to your knees, if you weren’t there already.

“It’s just - a thing that I do,” You tell him, too ashamed to look at his face as you reveal it. “You don’t have to worry about it.”

“That’s not enough for me, love.”

Loki’s lips are pursed tight, and the wound in his eyes has hardened to steel. The you part of your body - the fleeing part, the one who knows how to survive - seizes its’ chance and you duck out of his embrace, with far more strength than you had possessed in what felt like, potentially, years. Scrambles, backwards, like a cornered animal, over the tile floor, before heaving itself up to standing. It faces Loki, and its’ breath comes in stabbing-sharp. It is hard to remember that you have to call it ‘myself’. You feel older than you were, yesterday, and you cannot, quite, get air to come into your lungs. That’s not enough for me, you hear your lover say, ringing in your ears like a hyena’s howl.

You’re not enough for me, love. Your fingers spasm, clutching the sides of the kitchen table white-knuckled. You wonder, fleetingly, what Loki would do if you died. The thought makes you cry out in pain, a whimper ripping out from a throat rubbed fingernail-raw, but Loki does not move to stand.

“Come back to me,” He tells you, spiked with sorrow and need. And, perhaps for the first time, you admit it - to yourself, as much as to him.

“I don’t - I don’t think I know how.”

He smiles the smiole of someone who’s seen his own pain, faced his own lashing demons, and you pause to take him in fully, this god who says that he loves you, the man he is trying to be. You catch on hixs eyes, those bright emerald coins, his hair like the feathers of crows. His high, pale cheekbones, and his silver-tongue cut like glass. The pads of his fingertips, slender and cold, tender and fierce on your skin or the hilt of a dagger. You breathe in the smell of him, parchment and iron; peppermint tea and the smoke from a lorn, crimson fire. Wet leaves, after a rain. You feel your resolve start to waver.

“Well,” He says, all thoughtful, all trickster, “Sitting down, I believe, would be a good place to begin.”

The teasing lilt of his voice - an act that he is putting on, and all for you, always for you - cajoles you, coaxing you to lever your elbows and slide back down onto the floor, your weary legs feeling unimaginably grateful. Loki shoots you a new smile now, light and proud. He beckons you, with a cock of his head and a slim, fond gesture, to him - Of a sudden, the tiles beneath you seem like a desert, an ocean. You feel the weight of your emptiness. It laughs at you, its’ white teeth filed and barred. In your head, your failure is heavy; a hot and cackling creature with seven-foot claws pressing down on your chest, restricting your matchstick limbs. You are lost to the unyielding insistence of it, trapped in the maw of its cage, and Loki’s words, when they come, sound as far away as the shores of a country ancient and foreign.

“I was hardly gone,” He is saying, but you cannot answer him. “How could it have gotten this bad?”

It is that - that sadness, that fear in your lover - that breaks you, and you take the thing at a clumsy, terror-steeped sprint, not caring how wretched you look, so long as you can reach him - So long, you finally let yourself think, as there is something left of you for Loki to hold in his arms. Your body hurts worse than anything. You feel every scrape and bruise and chill on it; the pins and knives working at oxygen-starved nerves, and the gnawing clamp of your hunger, a brand pressing into your gut; and you know that Loki can’t save you. But maybe, just maybe, you can find some way to save yourself. And his fingers are there, going up to your hair, thumb rubbing at a hollow cheek and catching the salty dirge of an errant tear.

“It gets better, you know,” Loki tells you. He gets you onto his lap; you feel his heartbeat under your palms where you clutch tightly at his shirt to hold yourself up. A steady, thrumming proof that he is alive. And when he says it, you get the sense that, somehow, you’ve always know it, this whispered secret he’s weaving into your soul. “If you get proper help for it. If you want it to.”

He speaks casually, but there is a weight to his words. Miraculously - you’re not quite so sure how - you find yourself able to meet them.

“I want it to,” You tell him. “I didn’t, before - “ And here his eyes widen, and he shakes his head like you’ve shot him - “But I do. I want to -“

“Alright, love,” He tells you, running a soothing hand down over your side, past the hard planes of your collarbone, “Alright. It’s okay. You’re such a strong person- It’s going to be hard, for awhile, but I know that you can get through this. I’ll be right here with you, darling. Right here, by your side.”

“You will?” You ask him, voice cracking, hardly daring to hope that despite all this, he would stay. He chuckles, sadly, as if your thinking it hurts him, and he is deadly serious when he tells you,

“Y/N, of course I will.”

Somehow, though he’s the god of lies, you don’t doubt his words for an instant. You nod, and the nodding takes effort. Yet you are certain he understands what you mean.

“So,” Says Loki, “Can you - Tell me about this?”

You have to think, for a minute. Can you tell Loki about this? You know that he’s telling the truth, that he isn’t going to leave you. Still, you’ve never been this vulnerable with him before, not even in bed, and the fear in you won’t be put to rest so easily. You shake in his hold, and realize, with a frigid shock, how you must look to him - how badly you are hurting him, and how badly you’re hurting yourself, by keeping your feelings inside yourself and leaving your body to rot. You know, now, that Loki will help you through this - that he will be there, kind touches skirting the bad days; warm, mischevious smirks smoothing the wrinkles of your persistent self-doubts. There was a time when you needed to do this - there will, probably, still be days when you feel like you need to do this, to get a firm hold over your life, and keep the jackals at bay. There are other words to keep yourself safe, though. Loki’s breath in the dark is more home to you than anything you’ve ever had, and his open waiting, here in the daylight, makes you brave enough to speak.

“Maybe… Over lunch?” You offer. You bite your lip and hold out the query, a silky pearl in your hand. For one moment, Loki seems to consider; after all, he is the trickster, and a man not given to acting rashly, or stripping the drama from his complicated schemes. If this is a scheme, you think that you might forgive him - Later, when his lips are on your frame, when you’re there with him, again. His lips twitch into a grin so affectionate and proud that you know- you know - that if you seek proper care and really want to get better, you’ll get through the days that feel like walking on broken glass. You’ve done so much for me, that grin tells you. Let me do this for you.

He reaches out, and takes the pearl. You hardly recognize the man who rained hell down on New York, who snorts and jabs with sarcasm at every word that comes out of Iron Man’s mouth.

“Breakfast?” He counters, shooting a pointed glance at the microwave clock. It is a dare and a promise - a challenge, but never a trick. It tastes like honey on your tongue.

“Fine,” You say, “But you’ll have to cook.” Some kind of joy is creeping its way into you. Your voice, you find, barely trembles.

“Midgardians,” Lok says, with an eye-roll - a friendly, loving glint in his eyes that refuses to fade. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who burns water.” The joke prods your tender, new understanding, reassures you that he is still Loki; that he isn’t going to treat you differently, like a child, just because you’re suffering. The smile comes full onto you, and you wriggle, stretching your arms over your head and yawning, exaggerated for effect to add to the banter.

“I never said that I couldn’t cook,” You tell Loki, “Just wanted you to do it.”

“Mm,” He says, “And what will you be doing, then, while I cook?”

You chew at your lip, and choose to answer before your nerves make you panic.

“Finding the right words,” You admit, laying the truth bare to him.

His hands are wending through your hair now, and his lips are unberarably gentle on yours. He tastes like embers and ink. That sweet, slightly metalic tang that you’ve come to associate with his magic; cinnamon, tinged with steel. He kisses you for a second or two, before pulling away, but you could live in those seconds - Unfold it, like a blanket, and let the care of it warm your thin, freezing bones, if Loki weren’t here to show you that, with the right help, you can learn how to do it yourself.

“Finding the right words,” Loki muses, vaulting himself up to stand in a movement that’s unfairly graceful. “I’d much prefer yours, to be honest.”

He holds a hand out, and you take it, letting him pull you up. The floor, underneath you, feels solid. The sun is coming through the clouds, and out there in the wide world you can hear bird-song, the low, sugared sway of the breeze. There is something else there, too:

You let it wrap its tendrils around you, and you decide that it’s hope.

#loki/reader #loki/female reader #established relationship #eating disorders #mental health struggles #not me writing 3k plus words of loki helping the reader come to terms with the fact that they can recover from their eating disorders #because that's what I wanted to have when I was going through it #soft loki #i mean seriously #yeah there's angst #BUT #also just an unrepentant amount of loki fluff #he says it in the fic but i'll mention it here too:#if you're going through anything like this #know that you don't have to do it alone!#and that not only is it okay to get professional help #it's a good and positive thing that can be a very important part of recovery!#you have so much love and support in your life #because you're a beautiful amazing strong person and it's NOT YOUR FAULT that you're struggling with a mental illness #fics mentioned in the beginning as inspirations for writing this(and the next couple oneshots I have lined up) include:#The 'Loki's Lullabies' series by kaoerin on AO3 #and the 'As You Are' series by hopeless_romantic_spoonie/yespolkadot_kitty #also on AO3 #if any of you are on tumblr i'm so sorry i don't know your url's #but y'all should go show these fics love

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cloverthirteen · 3 years

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Was Ace Attorney made as a satire on Japan’s legal system? -- An analysis

I wouldn’t really call myself an Ace Attorney fan--I’ve never played any of the games, the closest I’ve come being watching other people’s let’s plays. I do like reading about the series on wikis and interacting with fan content for it, though, so I do know a fair amount about it.

One thing I see being said pretty often by fans is that the series was intended as a satire/parody of the Japanese legal system, which is why the courts are ridiculously biased towards the prosecution, prosecutors often care more about perfect win records more than putting actual guilty people behind bars, etc. If you’re familiar with this, you’ve probably heard of Japan’s 99% conviction rate. This interpretation of the games and the way they work definitely makes sense.

But after hearing this many times I eventually noticed something. There isn’t a single actual source (creator statement, interview, etc.) that backs up this claim. Every time I see someone online say “the series creator made Ace Attorney to parody Japan’s actual legal system” there is never a link to an interview or anything that proves their statement correct. If someone has an actual, verified source from Shu Takumi or someone else who had significant involvement with the series, please prove me wrong and show it to me. But according to all of the creator’s statement’s I’ve read, there’s no evidence of the series being an intentional parody.

So, what do we know about the creation of the Ace Attorney series? Well, it was created by Shu Takumi, who wrote and directed the first three games. After working on the dinosaur survival horror game Dino Crisis for Capcom, he was given the opportunity to make any kind of game he wanted. He really wanted to make mystery and adventure games, and from that came Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney.

MC: Before developing Ace Attorney you worked on Dino Crisis. How does one go from dinosaur survival horror to virtual courtrooms?

ST: Dino Crisis was the brainchild of my then boss, Resident Evil creator, Shinji Mikami. Working on his projects taught me not only how to make games, but also how to think about them. After Dino Crisis 2 wrapped, Mr Mikami gave me six months in which to create any kind of game I wanted.

I was still pretty wet behind the ears, but as I'd originally joined Capcom with a desire to create mystery and adventure games, this was a huge chance for me to make my mark as a creator. In the end it took a team of seven 10 months to produce the first GBA Ace Attorney title. Having the freedom to create exactly the kind of game I wanted was amazing and it was a real pleasure to work on that project.

MC: Can you remember when the idea of Ace Attorney first came to you? How did your bosses respond to the idea of a lawyer-based adventure game when you first described it to them?

ST: It was in 2000 when Mr Mikami said I could make my own game and my original idea was a fairly typical adventure with a detective as the main character. Most mystery adventures have the player choose from a number of different dialogue options for their character in order to progress the story, but I wanted a new gameplay style that enabled players to deduce for themselves what was happening, rather than just selecting canned responses. I developed this into the concept of facing off against the suspect in a crime and exposing the contradictions in their statements.

I was sure my new idea would be a fun and original take on the genre, so I started to revise the main character, since a detective would be too traditional for such an original concept. I asked myself, "What kind of professional would face off against a suspect and expose their contradictory statements?" The answer, of course, was a lawyer and so the Ace Attorney concept was born.

(source, from an interview on the making of the series)

Takumi’s original concept for the game involved Phoenix as not a defense lawyer, but as a detective. The gameplay was to consist of “facing off against the suspect of a crime and finding the contradictions in their statements.” However, Takumi eventually realized that taking apart contradictions wasn’t really a detective’s job, and decided to change the protagonist to a lawyer and the setting to a courtroom instead. And thus, the game’s concept was finalized.

Janet: As you know, “Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney Trilogy” is coming out world-wide this winter, and as I was brainstorming what to write about for this week’s blog, I remembered your tweets from 2010.

Takumi: Tweets from 2010?

Janet: …Well, it was a long time ago…

Takumi: ???

Janet: I-It’s OK if you don’t remember…

Takumi: …Oh, THOSE! Yes!

Janet: I remember reading them and being shocked by how different the original draft of the game’s story was – how Phoenix wasn’t even a lawyer, but a private eye!

Takumi: Yes, AA was originally supposed to be a detective game, so naturally, Phoenix was to be a private eye. But then, one day, I made a startling realization: the gameplay concept I was going for was for players to enjoy finding and taking contradictions apart, but that was hardly related to investigating or detective work at all. In that moment, I had it – I realized that the main setting for the game should be the courtroom.

Janet: That’s quite the jump, but you know, I can’t imagine this series being anything else at this point.

(source, from an interview by Janet Hsu about the game’s early development)

During the development for the game, Takumi actually knew very little about the intricacies of the legal system--and in fact, he’s been very transparent about that fact in interviews. There’s even a story he talks about in a blog post where he was asked “shouldn’t we do some research on law before we make this game?” and agonized over it for a bit before deciding that being accurate about courtroom processes wasn’t important--what was important was that the game made the trials exciting and fun.

November, 2000. The characters were coming together, and I was working desperately on my first scenario (the current Turnabout Sisters). One day, I was asked about the one thing I didn’t want to be asked about.

“Mr. Takumi. Don’t we need to do some research on law?”

The knowledge I have about the law, pretty amounts to the one fact that in Japan we have the Roppō Zensho ('Complete Book of The Six Major Legal Codes').

“Don’t bother with that. This is a detective game. “

It should have been over with this one line, but…

“But this isn’t a detective game, it’s a lawyer game!”

“If it’s not going to be realistic, I don’t see why this should be about trials.”

“People who play this might get wrong knowledge from the game!”

“We might get sued by the Bar Association!”

“They’ll start complaining!”

…Gyakuten Saiban (Ace Attorney GBA) is simply a “mystery game.”　“Being realistic” is not what is important. What’s important is emphasizing, and recreating the unique “atmosphere” and “tension” of the courtroom. That is why the judge uses a gavel, even though no judge uses that, and why Naruhodō shouts "Objection!" even though nobody does that either.　This game does not need a “realistic courtroom”!

Chasing the true murderer down to the end, and then getting applauded for that in the courtroom. That feeling of thrill and excitement. It was only by February of the following year when we finally manage to recreate that in the game. The couple of months after this had happened, we looked around, got lost and troubled our minds in search for the answer of the big question of “How do we make a trial into a game?”. Fall was passing by, and the cold winter was close upon us.

(source, from an archived blog post by Takumi)

So, realism and knowledge of law wasn’t important to Takumi during the development of the series. But there’s also the fact that Takumi has actually personally denied that the Ace Attorney series was an intentional satire or criticism of the court system at any point. In fact, according to a blog post (done as if Phoenix and Maya were reading the column and commenting on it), he actually dislikes people seeing his work this way, as he never intended the games to have any big political statements.

A major prerequisite for Gyakuten Saiban is it’s so simple “even my mother could play it”. So there is only one point at the core of the game: “Seeing through lies”.

Naruhodō: It wasn’t even supposed to be a game about the trials at first. Mayoi: Eh! Really?! Naruhodō: “Simple” is basically all this game is about, according to TakuShū. Mayoi: What do you mean? Naruhodō: He didn’t want to add all kinds of elements for the player to think about, like alibis, tricks or about the culprit. It’d just confuse them. Mayoi: Really. Naruhodō: Basically, you can proceed in the game if you just think about where the contradiction is. He figured that with that, the controls of the game could also stay simple. Mayoi: But, but, why the trials then? Naruhodō: “A story about a detective seeing through lies” wouldn’t be any different from the other games out there. So that’s why he decided to have someone whose job is seeing through lies as the protagonist. Mayoi: So a defense attorney. Naruhodō: Occasionally TakuShū sees magazines introducing the game as “a work that dared to take on the theme of trials”, and that actually hurts him. Mayoi: He never meant to be something as big as that….

(source, from the mentioned blog post)

Ultimately I see how easy it is, if you know a good amount about both Ace Attorney and Japan’s legal system, to come to the conclusion that the games were made as a dig against the latter. However, somewhere along the line, people apparently stopped seeing this as merely a theory and instead as a definite fact. Now, that doesn’t mean that the theory is entirely unfounded--given that Takumi focused only on making trials interesting and fun in the games, you could say that the games work as an light, comedic parody, not meant to make any political statements. And hey, maybe there’s something I missed--maybe there were other people working on the series who did have significant knowledge of law and wrote some parts of the games as intentional satire of the system. Again, if anyone has evidence of this, don’t hesitate to provide it. But with what I know, I don’t think going “well actually” to people who point out the ridiculousness and unfairness of Ace Attorney’s court system is necessary. It’s simply that way to make the games more fun.

#ace attorney #phoenix wright #this was actually kind of fun to research and write!#kinda felt like i was making a statement in a courtroom...

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

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Leave No One Behind

Chapter 16: Endings Beginnings

Co written with @icanfeelastormbrewing

Summary: Ari and Hannah settle into life back home, but it isn’t all as smooth as they’d have hoped…

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairings: Ari Levinson x OFC Hannah Horowitz

Word Count- 4.5k

A/N: It was recently brought to our attention that in a few other chapters there have been a couple of things that Ari has said/done that are not technically accurate for someone of Jewish heritage. First up, it was reference to Ari observing a ‘Sunday Roast’ when he visited Mama Navon. We just wanted to remind people that Hannah is of Catholic Christian and Jewish heritage (Spanish Catholic Mother, American Jewish Father) and her and Sammy’s upbringing has always been a combination of the two. So, when Ari visited Mama Navon when he was home from Sudan, clearly this was her tradition he was observing. Secondly, in another chapter Ari was praying to the ‘God and the Saints’. Of course, Judaism does not have saints, so there’s a slip up on our part with that one. As with the third point, when we described Ari rushing Sarah to the alter. He would have rushed her to the hoopa.

Regarding all of the above, we would hasten to add, that Ari grew up in the USA, leaving when he was 18. From what little we learn of him in the film, we know was taken by a British Soldier, who married an American Nurse. From the way he talks about it, we don’t get the impression his ‘adoptive’ parents were Jewish, so that alludes us to suspect he had a largely Christian upbringing, whilst clearly being aware of his heritage. Therefore, we don’t think it is beyond the realms of possibility that he would pick up the odd little thing such as the above three points.

That aside, we hope the above didn’t distract anyone else from the narrative as it did the reader who brought it to our attention.

Now, just a personal plea from myself in general. Myself and Storm do this for free, and not being a person who pays much attention to religion at all (that’s another debate in itself) it is for this reason I was VERY nervous about continuing this storyline beyond the plot of the film. We certainly don’t have the time, nor brain capacity to be researching things into any kind of huge depth. It’s why most of my story lines centre along similar types of things that I have a good background in. This fic was never supposed to focus on the ins and outs of a particular race of people, just the lives of two dumbasses in love. As all writers on here, we do this for free, and the moment it becomes hard work or unenjoyable, we won’t be continuing. So any other little slip ups, please, unless they’re offensive, give us a little leeway and put it down to Ari being exceptionally Westernised as pointed out above.

Sorry if this comes across as being a little harsh, but this has been playing on my mind a lot over the past few days, to the point I was seriously considering if we ended the fic where it currently stood. That said, I think we have a lot left to tell of Hannah and Ari’s story so, I’ll shut up now and let you read it…if you want that is.

Leave No One Behind Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Part 15

“You haven’t forgotten tomorrow?” Hannah heard her mother ask, as the woman stood up from the table while holding the teacup and saucer to place them in the sink. “You do remember you have to pick Sammy up from the airport tomorrow afternoon, right?”

Hannah rolled her eyes at her mother’s back. “No, I haven’t forgotten,” she sighed as she played with the crumbles of the pastry she had been nibbling on, “I mean, it’s not like I’ve got anything else going on, is it? Seeing as Ari is with Maya and according to Sarah’s stupid rules I can’t be there with them…”

At that, Maria Navon turned, giving her daughter a sympathetic look and Hannah snorted in anger.

It had been four months since they arrived back in Tel Aviv, and Hannah had to concede that for the first few weeks it was fine. She and Ari settled nicely in the apartment Mossad rented in Ari’s name once all the paperwork following the end of the mission had been sorted. Ari had asked Isaacs for an upgrade of his living quarters, given he was now having Maya over to stay every other weekend, plus numerous nights of the week. Not to mention the fact Hannah was moving with him. When Isaacs had asked Ari to put a justification forward, he had simply shrugged, “I fucking earned it, Isaacs.”

So he got it. Just like he usually got what he wanted, one way or another.

Hannah was back working at the clinic. Her hands and the experience she had acquired while in Africa were needed more than ever now that it was only her mother and her to run it, although how long it was before her mom decided to retire fully was anyone’s guess. It had been a couple of busy months, what with interviewing for new nurses and locum staff, but Hannah would be lying if she denied having enjoyed every minute of it. She might have Mossad secret agent skills, obviously passed down by her father, but she was a doctor at heart. And that hadn’t changed in the two years she had been away.

The team had split up within a month of arrival back in Tel Aviv. Ari and Max had been working to help the refugees. Many of them had simply melted away post their arrival, still not trusting the mysterious white men who had come to their aid. However, some had stuck round; being housed temporarily in hostels, and was those who Ari and Max were tirelessly working for. They focussed their efforts on obtaining them permanent, legal status along with finding them better places to live and jobs of sorts to help them fit in their new reality.

Jake had headed back overseas to continue work as a diving instructor, this time in Jamaica, whilst Sammy had been in the States with Rachel for almost two and a half months now, and was, as Maria just reminded Hannah, due back the following day. Hannah suspected, however, not for long, fully expecting him to move there permanently to be with Rachel.

“Sammy is lucky, you know? He has none of this shit with Rachel’s ex.” Hannah grumbled, “Sarah is just being a pain in the ass. And I know for a fact it’s because we told her we got engaged. She was fine with me being there when Maya was until that point.” Hannah finished her rant as she placed her teacup and saucer on her mother’s extended hand.

“You can’t be sure about that, sweetheart. Maybe there’s something else."

“No, she’s being a bitch.” Hannah quickly stopped her mother’s attempts at justifying Sarah’s behaviour. “She seems perfectly fine with us having dinner during the week and going out and stuff but won’t let Maya stay when I’m there on a weekend, basically just preventing us from spending those days together, for no reason other than she’s bitter.”

Maria Navon sighed. She knew where her daughter was coming from but, being the gentle and caring woman she was, she couldn’t help but try to put herself in the other woman’s shoes. She saw Hannah bite her lip and twirl her engagement ring round her finger, a rounded blue sapphire as deep as the ocean set against a halo of smaller white diamonds on a white gold band, before she spoke again.

“I wouldn’t mind mama but they’ve been legally separated for years! The terms of their divorce are basically already been agreed. All they need to do is sign the damned papers but recently, well, Ari seems afraid to even raise the issue in case Sarah starts making it all awkward again and stops him seeing Munch.”

“Hey, sweetheart. Listen to me.” Hannah’s mother caught her attention as she pulled out a chair to sit next to her. “Everything is going to be ok, she’ll sign eventually. She knows there isn’t anything she can do about it, she’s just grieving.”

Hannah’s brow creased at her mother’s choice of words. “Grieving for what? She left him, years ago!”

“She left him because she couldn’t cope with his lifestyle anymore, and he wasn’t winning any awards for being husband of the year, Han. That doesn’t mean she didn’t love him,” Maria woman spoke softly as if to appease her daughter’s raging tone.

“So, basically, I’m just stuck here waiting until she gets her head out of her ass?”

“Have a little patience, honey. You two have waited over a decade, one way or another, to be together. You sure can wait a few weeks more.” Maria smiled as she reached out for Hannah’s hands who were fiddling with a teaspoon.

“That’s the thing, Mama.” Hannah sighed as she looked up to meet her mom’s eyes. “I don’t think it’s just going to be weeks.”

“You don’t?” The woman frowned. “Well maybe she’s more stubborn than I thought.”

Hannah shook her head and then noticed her mother’s features had suddenly softened into a smile and she was looking straight over her shoulder. Hannah turned to see Ethan walking into the kitchen in his signature crisp work suit.

“Hi Ethan,” Hannah smiled at him and then looked up at the clock over the fridge before standing up and shrugging. “I should go. Spend the night with my fiancée before I’m banished back to my childhood home for the weekend like a love sick teenager.”

As she left the kitchen dramatically, she heard Ethan ask Maria. “That bad?”

“She’s pissed off,” Hannah heard her mom whisper back, “can’t say I blame her but she needs to make an attempt to see this from the other side, so to speak.”

With an angry growl, Hannah slammed the door and set off walking back to their apartment, in even more of bad mood than she’d been in when she arrived at her mother’s.

Why was anyone treating her like she was the spoiled brat?

****

Ari was getting ready for Hannah’s arrival. He had been cooking, or sort of, making an attempt at dinner for a while and was now setting the table for two. He wanted to make tonight special as he knew this week was going to be the third weekend out of six that he and Hannah would be apart thanks to Sarah and her fucking rules.

He was finding it hard himself. He’d gotten used to sleeping besides his Firefly since they had got together in Sudan, especially at night. But he knew Hannah was finding it harder. He was sacrificing their time together so that he could spend his allotted weekends with his daughter, which lessened the blow a little, but Hannah was basically being banned from living her life as it was for two days every two weeks, and that make his heart ache.

And the worst bit about it all, was that he had seen it coming a mile off, and had been powerless to prevent it.

It was a bright Friday morning when they told Maya about their engagement. The previous evening Ari had proposed to Hannah for a second time after buying her a lavish ring. Thus, they had decided to take Maya for a walk and ice cream to break the news to her. The little girl had been over the moon with the idea of her dad and Hannah getting married, which hadn’t surprised Ari seeing as his daughter had been all over his fiancé ever since they had met at Mossad headquarters the morning they had arrived home.

Now, as he approached Sarah’s apartment to take Maya back, he was about to tell his ex-wife and he was not particularly looking forward to it. But, he was being cautiously optimistic. Sarah had, after all, been amendable since they’d gotten home and seemed okay with Hannah being a part of Maya’s life.

Still, he felt his stomach churn as Maya walked up the apartment they had all shared once upon a time, and rang the doorbell. No sooner had Sarah opened the door, Maya bounced in blurting the news out without hesitation.

“Mom, guess what? Dad and Han are getting married! He asked her yesterday and she said yes!”

Ari groaned internally to himself, “Sarah, I didn’t ask her last night,” he smiled bashfully as he explained himself, “and I certainly didn’t do it in front of Maya.”

Sarah shook her head and brushed it off. “Don’t worry, Ari and … erm, congratulations, I guess.”

“Erm… thanks.” Ari blinked. “I just thought you should hear it from me first… even if you technically did hear it from Munch.”

Despite the civil exchange, Ari could tell that Sarah was hating she didn’t have time nor the privacy to digest the news, and that wasn’t what he’d planned at all. He’d wanted to tell her, quickly, and leave, but Maya had put paid to his plans. Ari could feel coldness of his estranged wife’s stare, along with the tell-tale faint twitch of her nose and upper lip. He knew Sarah well and he, also knew how she deep down felt about him and Hannah.

“She seemed cool about it but I know her, Han. Too cool for Sarah.” Ari told Hannah that night over dinner. “I can’t help feeling this is going to be bad…”

For once, Ari wished to God he’d been proven wrong. But, Sarah ended up doing what he feared, reverting back to being petty and petulant. She called him the next day to announce from that moment on, when Maya stayed with him, be it during the week or on her agreed weekends, Hannah wasn’t to be there overnight because, as Sarah had put it, it wasn’t appropriate for Maya to be around when they were… well, “up to stuff.

Hannah went ballistic, telling Ari his estranged wife was being ridiculous and she could go to hell, but Ari knew Sarah well enough to know she needed to get this out of her system. He tried his best to explain to Hannah that until she did, there was nothing he could do but roll with it, certainly for the time being. Making Sarah angry would not only risk her going back on terms of the divorce they’d set out in their separation degree, but also, he feared, make her get pissy about him seeing Maya. And that simply wasn’t something he was prepared to risk. He’d already missed too much of Maya over the years, admittedly through his own fault, but he didn’t want to miss a single second more than he had to.

Just as Ari was turning down the heat under their dinner, Simon’s ears pricked up and a second later Hannah’s key was heard in the door. Air smiled at the dog, who let out an excited whine, and leaned to give him a scratch behind his ears.

“Mama’s home, buddy.”

The pooch looked up at his master almost like he was pondering his words and Ari scoffed.

Yeah, home. Bar the weekends when she’s banished to her mother's…

Simon trotted off and soon after Ari heard Hannah greeting him. A moment later she walked into the living area and gave him a tired, but genuine smile.

“Hey Lobo.”

Ari beamed at his fiancé as he walked to meet her and without warning, he grabbed her face with both hands and stamped his lips on her plump ones, kissing the hell out of her. Hannah moaned in surprise but melted into his hold, her hands instantly reaching for Ari’s bearded cheeks.

“Hey Firefly.” He whispered when he broke the kiss.

She smiled at him as her hands travelled upwards and tangled in his hair. “Something smells good.”

“Thanks, I just showered.” Ari drawled, a cheeky smile on his face.

“I meant the food, you ass.” Hannah laughed as one of her hands slapped Ari shoulder, but his grin never faded.

“I’m a whole meal, honey.” He continued, playfully. Hannah rolled her eyes and stepped back. “But yeah, I’ve been cooking or rather mixing things in pots and pans.”

“Hmmm should I be worried?” She shrugged off the light jacket she was wearing to shield her from the summer showers.

“Well, Simon tasted everything and he’s still breathing.”

“Simon used to eat jellyfish, Ari. That’s not a bar to measure your cooking with.”

“Hey, I tried, okay? Give me some credit. I’ve never cooked for a woman before.” He grabbed her hips and pressed her to his body, one of his big hands splaying over her back.

At that Hannah smiled at him lovingly. He was right. She suspected he had never cooked for Sarah and he certainly hadn’t cooked for her, not once. Never in the brief amount of time they had been secretly dating, and at the resort it had been Chef Aziz's job to cook for everyone.

“I’m honoured, and I’m sure it’ll be great. Give me five to go wash up okay?”

“Sure, babe. I’ll plate the food and open the wine.” He winked at her and Hannah stood on her toes and gave him another quick peck before she headed into the bedroom, Simon following her.

True to his word Ari had done a pretty good job and thirty minutes later they were both sat at the table after having enjoyed a dammed passable and tasty attempt at a beef stroganoff on Ari’s part that left Hannah pleasantly surprised.

She sighed with satisfaction as she left her fork on her plate and when she looked up she noticed Ari was looking at her intently, his eyes shining under those long eyelashes.

“You trying to seduce me before my carriage turns into a pumpkin tomorrow, Levinson?” Hannah asked before bringing her glass of wine to her lips.

“Hannah...” he sighed.

“What?”

“Please don’t, sweetheart. I don’t want to argue.”

It was her turn to sigh, heavily. Ari’s words were more of a plea than a warning to her, but she couldn’t help the way she was feeling. Granted, she wasn’t quite as pissed as when she had left her mother’s house, but she still had a sour feeling which was nagging at her.

“I don’t want to either, Ari. I just don’t like the prospect of spending my weekend away from you. Again.”

“And you think I do?” He asked, reaching for her hand over the table. “Honey, this won’t be forever. Sarah just needs to get her stupid tantrum out of her system.”

“Yeah, I know and I don’t want you having trouble with Maya because of me, I wouldn’t keep you from Munch, ever. But you’re my fiancé and I just...” she trailed off, shrugging, “I don’t want us to be apart.”

Ari licked his lips and pondered for a moment as he looked at their entwined hands. “Okay, I’ll talk to her when I pick Maya up tomorrow.” He nodded with determination when he looked up at her. “See if I can reason with her and...”

“Don’t Ari. You’ll only set her off.” Hannah rapidly cut him off.

Ari groaned and let go of her hand, his look and voice growing harder. “Well then, what do you want me to do? You literally just said-“

“I know, but I don’t want you to poke the bear! I just want this fucking ridiculous situation to be over.” Hannah shook her head. She knew she was riling Air up, but she was sick of everyone trying to get her to accept the situation they were in without so much as a word of complaint. “I’m not blaming you, it’s just…forget it, can we just pretend we are a normal couple who are having a normal evening dinner?”

“We are a normal couple. Well, as normal as most anyway.” Ari took her hand again, his features softening. “Look, I’m sorry. I really am. I just don’t know what I can do.”

“Love me.” Hannah stated after a while.

Now that puzzled Ari. Was that a request or was she doubting him. She couldn’t be doubting him, right? With concern written all over his face he pushed his chair back to stand up and hurriedly crouched beside Hannah, his hands grabbing her thighs firmly as his eyes searched for something in hers.

“Firefly, I do love you. You know this… I mean, at least, I hope you do.”

“I do.” She nodded as she looked down to him. “Just don’t stop loving me, no matter what crazy ideas Sarah comes up with.”

“Hannah, that’s not gonna happen.” He assured her after swallowing hard. “I promise you. Nothing she says or does is gonna change the way I feel about you.”

****

Ari meant what he said and took it upon himself to make sure his Firefly was left with no doubt as to his feelings for her all through the night. And then again he made sure she hadn’t forgotten the following morning too before she left to pick Sammy up from the airport.

Ari collected Maya, as arranged, from the summer holiday camp run by her school and then, throwing caution to the wind, took her to Maria’s to see not only Hannah, but Sammy and the family. Hannah was surprised, but pleased to see them both and hugged Maya tight as the girl threw herself at her, chatting away about her day. They ate a lovely dinner, courtesy of Maria, and later, retired to the shared garden in the warm, July air.

As Maya sat with Sammy, who was telling her stories about the states and Rachel’s kids, Ari found himself watching Hannah. She was sat with her mom and Ethan, the three of them sipping wine as the dusk drew in. It wasn’t long before the first little twinkles around the tree flashed through the darkness, signalling the fireflies had come out to play.

Ari’s mind quickly travelled back to when he first met Hannah, how those little bugs had been present in the garden, earning her the nickname. His nickname for her, which had stuck and become a term of his love for her, symbolised by the pendant round her neck. It was that pendant, or more specifically how he had given her that pendant, which had fixed the idea on how to present her with the sparkling sapphire and diamond ring on her finger…

It was a Thursday morning, and Hannah walked into the bedroom after her morning shower. Ari looked up from where he was fastening up his short sleeved shirt and smiled as she grinned back at him.

“You really do suit that colour, pretty sure Ethan’s secretary will approve.”

“Ethan’s secretary?” Ari continued, stopping two buttons under the collar.

“Yeah, that’s what I said Lobo.”

“Ethan’s secretary is nearly a hundred years old, Firefly.” Ari rolled his eyes with a chuckle, his hands on his hips as Hannah frowned.

“Well who was the young, blonde girl at her desk the other day when I called in?” She picked up her hairbrush from the top of the chest of drawers that served as her vanity unit.

“Lorraine? She’s an intern, Mrs Goldman is training her.”

“She likes you. I can tell.” Hannah hummed, combing out her locks which had been piled on top of her head to prevent them getting wet.

Ari rolled his eyes as Hannah pulled her hair back into a neat ponytail. “Whatever.”

“You can whatever me all you want,” Hannah sang as she picked up a bottle of lotion and sat on the bed, “I can sense these things.”

Ari snorted, looking down at his girl as she sat on the bed applying lotion to her legs. “You getting all territorial on me?”

“Do I need to?”

“Don’t be an ass!” Ari snorted, leaning down to kiss her.

As they moved around the room, Ari took his time, a lot longer than usual, dragging his morning routine out as long as possible. If Hannah noticed he was making a meal out of tidying his beard up, something he had taken to doing since returning to civilisation, she didn’t notice.

He was stalling for one reason, and one reason only. The surprise that was waiting for her in her underwear drawer.

After what seemed like an age, she crossed the room and pulled it open. Ari held his breath as she reached in for a pair of panties, but instead she gasped, he hand flying to her mouth.

Bingo.

When Hannah spun around, the red, velvet box in her hand, Ari was waiting on one knee, beaming up at her. “Still wanna marry me, Firefly?”

Tears brimmed in her eyes and she nodded, her voice thick with emotion, “yes, you know I do!”

“Had to ask with a ring, sweetheart.”

He watched as she opened it, her mouth dropping open once more as she stared at the ring.

“Lobo, it’s gorgeous… I… I love it!”

As Ari rose to his feet, he sighed with relief, “good, ‘cause I had a hard time finding something worthy of my girl.”

“It reminds me of the ocean,” she smiled up at him, “and your eyes.”

“Kinda why I bought it, the ocean that is.” Ari smiled as he took the ring from the box, slipping it over her knuckle, watching as the sapphire settled at the base of her finger. “Hannah Maria Navon, I love you, baby girl.”

Hannah glanced at the ring before she beamed, her hands cupping his cheeks, “and I love you, Ari David Levinson.”

Ari smirked a little at the memory, they were totally late for work after getting a little ‘distracted’ so to speak celebrating their engagement once more, only this time in a bed and not the back of a shitty jeep in the Sudanese desert.

“Dad?” Maya bounced into his lap, drawing a huff from him as she accidentally elbowed him in the ribs, “Are those fireflies?”

“They are Munch.” He nodded, kissing her head as she watched them zipping around. “Can you see now why I call Hannah my Firefly?”

She grinned, “yip!”

Hannah, who had been watching them, cleared her throat. “Ari, it’s getting late. Shouldn’t you two be heading back to your apartment?”

Ari looked at her pointedly. “Our apartment, sweetheart.”

Hannah was about to shoot a response back but then remembered Maya was there so she merely sighed. “Ari, look, you shouldn’t even be here now anyway. It’s not worth the argument if she finds out.”

“Why can’t we stay here, dad? I wanna stay with Han!” Maya piped up and Hannah groaned a little, shooting Ari a look.

“Because Han needs to stay with Sammy tonight, she’s not seen him for a while. You can stay some other time, okay?”

“I’m not gonna say anything to Mom if that’s what you scared of.”

At that, Ari and Hannah exchanged a look. “Why do you say that? Why would we be scared?” He asked and Maya shrugged.

“I heard Mom say some things.”

“What things, Munchkin?” Ari smoothed her long hair back and waited for her to reply.

“Well, I was upset, because at first I thought Hannah didn’t like me anymore as she always left when I stayed over. But one day last week, I heard Mom tell Grandma on the phone she had made you and Hannah spend the weekends apart because I was with you.” Maya paused and looked at Hannah, “Is that why you don’t stay with us at the apartment?”

Hannah blinked, she was stuck. She didn’t want to lie but also didn’t want to start bad mouthing Sarah in front of Maya, no matter how tempting. “Erm, it’s, well it’s complicated, sweetie. You and your dad need to spend time together. But I promise you it’s absolutely not because I don’t like you. I do, I love you very much.”

At that Maya stood up and launched herself at Hannah. “I love you too, Han.”

Ari and Hannah could do nothing but exchange a look, which Hannah broke as she leaned down to hug Maya, tears visible in her eyes.

And it left Ari feeling even more like shit than he already did.

No, he had to fix this, even if it meant pulling Sarah up on her attitude despite Hannah asking him not to. Whilst he understood Sarah’s anger, and that she had every right to direct it at him, the fact that it was clearly having an impact on Maya was something he couldn’t let slide.

With a sigh, he stood up, instructing Maya to bid everyone good night. Before he left, he pulled Hannah into a kiss, his hands cupping her face.

“I’m gonna fix this,” he whispered against her lips, “trust me, baby.”

“I do.” She sniffed a little, her nose bumping his. “Go, go on. I’ll see you Sunday.”

As they walked the few blocks home, Maya’s hand locked in Ari’s, he was only partially listening to his daughter as she spoke.

“Dad!” Her voice drew him from his thoughts about how exactly he was going to approach the subject with his soon to be ex-wife. He glanced down at her.

“What?”

“We’re you listening to a word I just said?”

“Honestly, no!”

“Daaaaaad!” She whined and Ari chuckled.

“I’m sorry baby, what were you saying?”

“I was saying that I should get Hannah something for luck.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Mom was talking to Auntie Louisa, and she said that Hannah was going to need plenty of luck being married to you so…”

Ari took a deep breath, anger flashing through his system, rolling his eyes. “Oh, did she?”

“Yup.” Maya nodded.

“And, do you think Hannah’s gonna need luck?”

Maya looked at him, and grinned cheekily. “Well, you are an idiot!”

“Rude!” Ari narrowed his eyes playfully, “mind you, technically, you might look more like your mom but you’re half me. Guess that makes you half an idiot, huh?”

Maya went to dig him in the ribs and with a chuckle, Ari swung her up and onto his shoulders. Her hands tangled in his hair as she giggled, before she leaned down, fingers threading into his beard.

“Han’s right, you do look like a wolf.”

Ari laughed, his hands tightening around his daughter’s ankles as her heels lightly bounced against his chest with each step he took.

#leave no one behind #ari levinson x ofc #ari levinson x original female character #Ari Levinson #ari levinson fanfiction #red sea diving resort #red sea diving resort fan fic #chris evans #chris evans characters

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autisticcassandracain · 3 years

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ok disclaimer I’m new here and it’s completely possible that I missed some comic that refutes all I’m saying here but like. I just really cannot get over how bad of an identity Black Bat is. I just CANNOT get over it.

It’s not that I hate the idea of Cass moving on from the Batgirl mantle and going solo or anything, far from it! I think legacy mantles like Batgirl are (generally) made to be passed on, and I think that Cass realizing that she doesn’t need it anymore and is ready to strike out and create her own identity could be a really meaningful arc. It’s just. That the way that was done in canon is. Not It. I’m not gonna get into that because that’s a whole different rant I feel even less qualified to make but it sure doesn’t help me like the Black Bat identity for her.

but even separately from the way she acquired it, the Black Bat identity is bland and says little to nothing about Cass. Like, let’s do a rundown of the other major solo batfam identities (minus Red Robin bc I know precisely nothing about Tim):

Nightwing: as stated by Dick himself in The New Teen Titans: “What’s strange is that both name and costume are based on other people... both mentors... and friends.” Nightwing is a merging of all the people who have made Dick into who he is, most prominently Batman, who trained him and helped him get the skills he needed, and Superman, who gave him his name. While he costume has changed over the years, it’s maintained a sleek, skin-tight look that’s perfect for doing acrobatics in, which is Dick’s signature.

Oracle: created when writers tried to fridge her and the Joker shot her, Oracle is one of the few disabled superheroes and is a perfect fit for it. ‘Oracle’ as a name immediately conjures up associations with oracles from ancient Greek myth, so it works extremely well with Oracle’s focus on technology, both in the sense that it subverts the expected aesthetic, and that it accurately describes her role as mastermind and information gatherer. It shows off Barbara’s smarts and ingenuity.

Red Hood: was created after Jason came back from the dead and decided to cause problems on purpose, and it shows. Jason took a former alias of his murderer and made it his own, both reclaiming his trauma and signaling his change from morally good to morally gray/bad (depending on writer/interpretation). His main weapon is guns, specifically chosen to signal his opposition to what Batman stands for.

Spoiler: created in opposition to Stephanie’s supervillain dad, Cluemaster. The name ‘Spoiler’ makes a lot of sense when you remember its origins in ‘spoiling’ her father’s plans, and stands out for that reason. Her costume is maximized to preserve her identity, which again, ties back to her origins.

Signal: a name that ties back to Duke’s mother’s saying that the morning is the best time to see things clearly. As Duke said in Batman & The Signal: “She considered herself the first knight on the battlefield (...) and another word for the first knight out there is... ‘Signal’.” Duke has a unique place in the batfamily as both the first meta and the first daytime hero, and everything about his solo identity reflects that, from the name tying back to the morning light to the bright yellow in his costume.

As you can see, all of these identities tie back to at least some aspect of the character they’re embodied by. They tell us something about their goals for their superhero persona, about the character’s personality and/or backstory, etc. Even in the event that Red Robin is a garbage identity (which tbh just going by the name I think it very well might be but again, I know nothing about Tim), that still leaves the vast majority of solo identities saying something about the person who created them.

But Black Bat? What does that tell me about Cass? Her costume design isn’t bad, but it’s pretty standard and not extremely unique (except for her cool cape, I’ll give it that). All the name tells me is that 1) she’s kinda edgy, maybe and 2) she’s part of the batfamily. That’s it. That’s literally all it does.

Black Bat is very obviously an identity that wasn’t the result of someone sitting down and honestly thinking what solo identity would fit Cass the best; it’s the result of someone haphazardly slapping a solo identity onto Cass so that Stephanie could be Batgirl.

so yeah TL;DR I think Black Bat is a bad identity because it’s generic and tells you little to nothing about Cass.

#cassandra cain #my posts #infodumping #if i got anything wrong in terms of origins/personality/etc. for any of the characters feel free to let me know #like i said i'm new here #also I elected to leave batman out of the solo identity list bc even though it's technically a solo identity it's also. the goddamn batman #like batman is more a symbol at this point than a person almost #while I would definitely argue it tells you a LOT about bruce wayne it does so with like 100 years of comic book history #so it's kinda in its own category imo

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forasecondtherewedwon · 3 years

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Dolls’ Eyes — A Jaws AU

Pairings: established Peggy/Steve, developing Brunnhilde/Carol Rating: T Chapters: 14/14

Summary: Tony Stark snapped his fingers and the vanished half of the universe returned, but Thanos escaped the battlefield, fleeing into space. Now that he’s virtually powerless, most of the Avengers consider chasing him all over the universe a waste of resources, but Peggy Carter—newly deposited in the 21st century—is determined to finish the job. Brunnhilde and Carol Danvers have the same idea.

When scattered rumours of fresh killings escalate to the death of one of their own, the three women team up to defeat Thanos once and for all.

read the prologue

read ch. 1 one / 2 two / 3 three / 4 four / 5 five 6 six / 7 seven / 8 eight / 9 nine / 10 ten 11 eleven / 12 twelve / 13 thirteen / 14 fourteen

After everything, Carol wasn’t surprised that Brunnhilde put up a fight over being told to just rest. Carol reminded her that she was lucky to be alive, to which Brunnhilde responded that it wasn’t anything like luck, and went on to list the incredible, lifesaving properties of her fine armour, explain the enhanced durability provided by her Asgardian biology, and enumerate all of the injuries she’d previously sustained that were apparently worse than being electrocuted half to death, and then nearly drowning while incapacitated. Carol didn’t believe half of it, but it was kinda hot when Brunnhilde bragged.

So, in spite of Carol’s efforts, Brunnhilde kept getting up the second her back was turned in order to haul bodies off of Thanos’s ship. As they started to fix everything Carol had broken (including a patch job of that hole in the roof), a scan of the local environment informed them that almost all of the life on this planet was aquatic. They left the stack of corpses on land. Whatever water critters were around, they didn’t need toxic eyeball goo leeching into their habitat.

Carol caught Brunnhilde shaking out a twitching arm and made her sit to do electronic repairs rather than manual labour. (Carol had that handled anyway, plus, she knew where all the bodies were because she was the one who’d left them there.) Brunnhilde protested that she was the captain. Carol came way too close to saying not of this ship, but stopped herself. Instead, she suggested Brunnhilde do like any other captain would and let her underlings take on the grunt work. That got a smile, if not verbal agreement.

Thankfully, Peggy was a fast learner; Carol explained the basics of what she’d done to wreck something and Peggy quickly understood how to walk back the damage. They worked their way through the ship, staying at neighbouring stations so Carol would be there if Peggy had questions, and Peggy would be there if (when) Carol had messed something up so badly that it needed four hands to fix.

“Maria would’ve been great with this,” she said without thinking, holding up a fistful of wires while Peggy tinkered beneath.

“Maria?”

It was easier to talk about her than it had ever been before. Like with the repairs, she could tell that Peggy understood without Carol having to do much more than gush over how good Maria had been at fixing stuff, how thorough she’d been with the plane she’d kept in the hangar on her property, how reliable, how trustworthy, how patient…

“Yes,” Peggy told her with a smile. “She sounds like she was wonderful.”

“She was.”

But when the two of them had finished their circuit of the ship and Carol went to tell Brunnhilde they were good to go, she wasn’t there. Carol panicked, worried that Brunnhilde had overheard all her praise of Maria and somehow missed the tone of a person who was in the late stages of grief, who had accepted the worst and was keen to keep living, maybe even loving.

When she couldn’t find her on the ship, she jogged down the ramp, intending to look for her outside. The second she turned to face the water, she spotted Brunnhilde coming towards her from the escape vessel. Carol ran out to meet her.

“What’s all this?” she asked in a tone of amusement, because Brunnhilde had her arms full.

“Food, Peggy’s jacket, a couple beers that didn’t get smashed when Thanos rammed us, uh…” She tried to examine the rest of the pile she was carrying, but it teetered and slipped; laughing, Carol scooped a few things out of her arms before they could end up in the shallow water.

“I thought you might’ve taken off on us,” she said lightly.

“I didn’t think you thought I’d be capable of that after getting zapped.”

“I was just…”

Brunnhilde walked close, pressing her arm into Carol’s.

“I know. I would’ve been the same way if it’d been you.”

“I don’t even know if I can get electrocuted,” Carol said.

“I’m not gonna recommend trying it for fun,” Brunnhilde told her. “Anyway, I used all my discs on Thanos and I dropped the remote in the water somewhere… You’d have to go to Thor with your request, ask him to bring the lightning down.”

“Straight to Thor?!” Carol laughed. “That seems a little extreme.”

“Or you could just stand around outside in New Asgard during a storm and wait for it to happen naturally.”

“And why would I need to be in New Asgard specifically?” Carol asked in a teasing voice. “I could get struck by lightning anywhere.”

She watched Brunnhilde flounder but couldn’t get an answer out of her, not on the way to the ship, not while she was distracted with Peggy asking her a slew of health questions, and not while they were trying to figure out how to get this humongous spaceship off the ground with a crew of only three people.

As they made their rocky assent, Carol was too busy to wonder whether Brunnhilde had heard her talking about Maria before she’d left the ship to scavenge from the escape craft. They had just broken through the atmosphere, blue sky giving way to black, when Brunnhilde spoke.

“Love’s like war.”

It was so sudden that Carol snorted a laugh.

“Ok, poet,” she said. She was tempted to devote some time to getting Thanos’s ship to play her music, if only to put on ‘Love Is a Battlefield’ for Brunnhilde. To let her know what had been said on the subject already.

She smirked to herself when Brunnhilde continued, clearly not giving a shit about her interruption or joking criticism.

“It is.”

“What do you mean?” Carol asked more seriously.

Brunnhilde shifted in her seat, engaging different protocols for outer space travel. Carol noticed the tremor had gone from her arm.

“You do better in both because of experience,” Brunnhilde said, looking straight out the viewport. “Anybody who can’t appreciate the benefit of falling for someone who’s been in love before is a fucking idiot.”

“And you’re not a fucking idiot.”

“I hope that isn’t a question.”

Carol smiled and shook her head. They flew in silence for a while.

“When we get back,” she said eventually, peering shyly over at her captain, “I owe someone important to me a visit, but then I’m coming to see you. Just a heads-up.”

“Vaguely threatening.”

“Sorry.”

“No,” Brunnhilde told her, grabbing her forearm to get her full attention, “I liked it.”

Heat raced up Carol’s neck until she was blushing as bright red as her suit, or the dumb acid burn on her arm.

Just then, Peggy’s agitated voice came from the other end of the wide flight deck.

“Someone’s coming right at us!”

Before Carol had the chance to say what the hell? or who? or again?, an incoming message threw a distantly familiar face up in front of them, hovering in the form of a hologram.

“Hey,” Carol greeted. “Small universe.”

—

Peggy had never thought to imagine what Gamora might be like. She’d had an account of Peter Quill’s affection for her from Rocket, but had recognized that a portrayal of the woman that crew had known—the woman Peter had loved enough to forfeit his life in the quest for reunion—couldn’t be fully accurate. At best, the Gamora they described would be one layer removed from the real person. The Gamora they had known and the one whose hologram had just appeared before Peggy, Carol, and Brunnhilde were a handful of years and a thousand experiences apart.

It seemed absurd to Peggy that this woman may wish to harm them, but she really ought to have considered it.

“Was it your distress signal I picked up?” Gamora asked flatly, eyes locked on Carol in the pilot’s seat.

“Umm… yep.”

“And you still require assistance?”

Carol glanced at Brunnhilde, then over to Peggy, who nodded. They certainly had worked wonders, she felt, in getting this massive spaceship off the planet, but who knew how many things could go wrong between here and Earth? Peggy doubted either of her shipmates had told her the half of it. They were simply short-staffed, too few fingers available to plug any metaphorical leaks they might spring on the journey.

“Yes please,” Carol told her.

With a nod, 2014 Gamora went from unknown quantity to ally. Peggy sighed in relief.

The three of them were transported directly from Thanos’s ship to Gamora’s. The process was quite indescribable, Peggy thought. Tingly, quick, with a bit of a lurch as she rematerialized on an entirely different flight deck from the one she’d just left. Had the transfer been instantaneous? Had she, perhaps, ceased to exist for a moment or two? She was full of questions but unsure to whom she should direct them.

Gamora, while welcoming in deed, was somewhat inscrutable when they met her face-to-face. Standoffish. Unsure of herself, Peggy realized. Immediately, she warmed to the woman. She had been in her place herself once, sort of, if not precisely in her intimidating boots. It hadn’t been so long ago that she’d been ferried through time to find the world completely changed. What Gamora needed was a reason to trust them the way they were trusting her.

“I take it you killed my father?” Gamora asked plainly once they were aboard.

Oh dear. It seemed they weren’t off to a very auspicious start.

Brunnhilde stepped in front of Carol, who’d just been opening her mouth to speak, presumably to claim responsibility.

“I was the captain,” she stated. “Thanos was killed on my orders.”

“Uh, no, not explicitly,” Carol argued.

“Anyway,” Peggy piped up, “I’m the one who shot him in the head.”

“And he was only vulnerable to that because I electrocuted him to within an inch of his despicable life and his helmet fell off,” Brunnhilde countered.

“On a planet I flew us to,” Carol reminded them.

“We’ll be sharing the blame,” Peggy informed Gamora on behalf of her crewmates.

Gamora cocked her head consideringly.

“And if it’s approval?” To their universal silence, she explained, “I know what he was capable of in my time, and I saw enough of Earth to get a general idea of what he was set to accomplish if he wasn’t stopped.”

“Were you out here hunting him too?” Peggy took a step towards her.

Directing her gaze away from them, Gamora blinked rapidly, looking momentarily confused and upset. In the next second, she’d hidden any outward hint of those feelings.

“I should’ve been,” she said, “but I’ve never been able to stand up to him like I should have. After I left your planet… for a while, I wasn’t looking for him. But I began to see signs. And then Peter Quill came.”

“Peter!” Carol said. “You saw him? Did you talk to him? Rocket never said—”

“No. I just watched. I followed him for a while. I knew he was looking for me. He was so… loud.” Gamora made a face. “Leaving word for me everywhere, telling traders and transports that he was my boyfriend. He was an idiot, but an entertaining idiot… I barely noticed that I’d stopped keeping track of Thanos until he just showed up…

“I was a coward,” Gamora went on. “I saw my father intercept Peter’s ship and I knew what would probably happen, but I couldn’t put myself between the two of them. Was I supposed to stand up for this guy when I’d never been able to stand up for myself? I was raised to be cruel, to think of myself, that attachments formed to accomplish anything but the acquisition of power make you weak. I know Thanos killed Peter. It’s my fault he’s dead.”

Peggy stood in front of her, refraining from placing a reassuring hand on Gamora’s shoulder when she gave her cagey eyes.

“It’s not,” Peggy told her firmly.

“I only heard your distress signal because I heard Peter’s first,” Gamora said. “I went onboard after my father had left; it was days before I could force myself to do it, maybe longer. I used his communications system to speak to his crewmates on Earth.”

“You must’ve just missed us leaving,” Brunnhilde said.

“That’s what he told me. He said three more morons had left the planet, on their way to hunt down Thanos.”

“And you’ve helped us,” Peggy said, tone insistent. “If you do feel any responsibility for what happened to Peter, then surely you should also believe that you’ve redeemed yourself by saving our backsides.”

Gamora’s eyes squinted as though she were in pain.

“I owed him more than this and I hate it,” she said, jaw clenched. “He was no one to me. He knew someone I’m never going to become.”

“Shhh. I know,” Peggy said soothingly.

“I don’t see how that’s possible. Have you ever had someone tell you they love you when it feels like it’s impossible that they even know you? That whoever they loved had to be a different person from who you are?”

Peggy’s shoulders fell. She could feel the bittersweet smile on her face.

“Actually, yes.”

Gamora appeared surprised to have been brought up short in such a manner.

“Do you have any advice?” Peggy urged softly.

For a minute, Gamora was quiet, staring hard at the wall. Peggy could feel that the others had backed away, giving them time and space when Gamora’s stream of information had been diverted by the confusing grief she was obviously experiencing.

“Whatever lengths he goes to because he thinks you’re better than you are…” Gamora finally said, turning her head to look Peggy in the eye. “Try to be worth it.”

“Got it.”

Peggy folded her hands together, pressing her right palm to her wedding ring.

—

They were about to get underway, their new crew of four on a significantly smaller, though sleeker, ship. (Brunnhilde didn’t mourn for the one they’d left in the shallows; it had served them well, first the Asgardians and now the team responsible for the death of Thanos.) However, staring out the viewport from the seat in which she’d been installed as the effective second-in-command, Brunnhilde didn’t feel right. The sight of Thanos’s ship just hanging there in space unnerved her. It would be better if no trace of the Titan remained.

“Let’s blast it,” she suggested to the deck at large.

“Thanos’s spaceship?” Peggy checked.

“Yes.”

“Well,” Carol said, “we aren’t near anything. There’s nothing for the debris to hit…”

Brunnhilde smiled slightly and looked to the captain.

“Gamora? Do you have any weapons on this ship that could do the job?”

“There is one thing I’ve been saving for a special occasion,” Gamora said, gaze fixed on Thanos’s ship. “First, we’re going to need to get clear.”

She piloted them away—away from the planet, away from the ship. Part of Brunnhilde wanted to request the honour of launching the torpedo Gamora was setting the coordinates for, locking it onto her late father’s final vessel, but she was already satisfied with the role she’d played. Let Gamora take this final, symbolic step. It was like Thor’s hideous couch; Brunnhilde had helped him lug the thing into the open air, but permitted him to drop the match (once she’d soaked the cushions in lighter fluid, just in case it wasn’t sufficiently saturated in spilled beer). She would content herself with watching it go up in flames.

And it did. It was an impressive explosion, scattering wreckage in a wide perimeter Gamora had kept them outside of. They were briefly silent as jagged hunks of metal twisted in the void.

“That’s one way to get the stink of dead bodies out,” Carol noted, and Brunnhilde turned to her, shoulders shaking with laughter Carol quickly joined in on.

They flew for some time, and it was good just to relax, to stretch in her seat and tilt her head from side to side so that her neck cracked horrendously and Peggy said things like “good lord!” while Carol laughed her ass off. Brunnhilde remained alert though. She couldn’t help it. In the old days, with the Valkyrie, there’d been a certain relief when the battle in which they’d been engaged was done, but they’d only known true rest once they’d returned to Asgard. Home. The last time she’d been on a ship bound for Earth, the atmosphere had been one of intense grief, muffled weeping in the corridors. They’d known Earth as Midgard and had little admiration for its country of Norway, chilly with fog and swathed in the bleak colours that reflected their inner emptiness. Nothing they loved was there—not their people, not their gleaming towers and soaring statues. How could it ever possibly feel like coming home?

Brunnhilde had honestly believed she’d lost her ability to experience that feeling, that, without her sisters-in-arms, the sensation was lost to her. Yet, despite the tension she still carried from the fight, she felt it easing. She felt herself longing for home, her little house at the water’s edge. For the chance to return to her people as their king and announce a great evil defeated. Maybe this tension was only anticipation after all.

In contrast to the fruits of her own contemplation and revelation, Gamora’s private thoughts had left her expression mournful and roving. Brunnhilde exited the deck to relieve herself and find something to eat in Gamora’s stores, and when she returned, she addressed her.

“You’re not taking us all the way to Earth, are you?”

Gamora flicked her gaze sideways to assess her. Brunnhilde knew there was no judgement to be found in her face, so she stared back calmly.

“I’m taking you to Quill’s ship. Thanos, in his infinite arrogance, didn’t damage it. Maybe he thought he might like to return to it some time and claim it as part of his fleet. It’s a tribute to how much I continue to feel my father’s influence that I planned to do the same. Not build a fleet, but go back. There’s something about that ship… I find it comforting.”

Brunnhilde frowned thoughtfully.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take it and leave this one for us?”

“No. What I felt when I was onboard, examining it and… and removing Quill’s body for space burial… that was just a feeling of, I don’t know, another life. There’s a group on Earth for whom that ship means something. And it’s the only thing they have of him. I couldn’t keep it.”

“One of those people is your sister,” Brunnhilde said carefully.

“Yes.”

“I tried to talk to her, but she doesn’t like me very much. I don’t blame her,” she added as Gamora gave her a wary look. “She was upset.”

“Nebula is at her most dangerous when upset, and she’s always upset, so she’s always dangerous.”

“She was upset about Peter’s death. But I think also because, without him, no one was out here looking for you.”

Gamora stiffened.

“If she really wants to find me, she can come look for me herself. I’ll be ready.”

“She doesn’t want to fight you,” Brunnhilde said. “She misses you. I think. It’s really none of my business.”

“Why would you wish to get involved in our family affairs?” Gamora’s voice was more curious than accusing. “Besides murdering our father, of course.”

Brunnhilde sighed before answering.

“I’ve lost many people I cared about. I don’t have a family anymore.” She glanced over to see Carol and Peggy bent over a screen together, Carol’s sudden snort infecting Peggy until they were both laughing. “I mean,” Brunnhilde corrected herself, “I didn’t.”

When they arrived at the Benatar and Gamora transported Carol and Peggy off her ship, Brunnhilde motioned for Gamora to hold off a moment on removing her.

“If we don’t meet again,” she said, sticking out her arm for Gamora to grasp.

Gamora gripped her tightly and nodded.

“I think we might though. I thought about it and realized it’s easier for me to find Nebula than for her to find me.”

“I may have left you her coordinates.” Brunnhilde released Gamora’s arm. “Enjoy Missouri.”

She joined Peggy and Carol on the Benatar, pausing to bend over Carol’s seat to surprise her with a deep kiss before she took up her own position. She brushed stray strands of hair back out of Carol’s dancing eyes.

“I’m going to have to redo your braid,” Brunnhilde told her.

“Oh, we’ll have time. We’ve got quite a road trip ahead of us. Luckily… Peter left us his tunes.” Beaming, she started up a song with a bright beat.

Brunnhilde smiled and went to her seat, fastening herself in as Carol readied the vessel for launch.

“You know,” Peggy said thoughtfully, slinging her jacket over the back of her chosen seat, “before all of this, I was actually quite afraid of outer space.”

Carol laughed.

“I can’t imagine why.”

#my writing #Dolls' Eyes #MCU #Avengers: Endgame #Peggy Carter #Brunnhilde #Carol Danvers #Valkyrie #Captain Marvel #Steve Rogers #Nick Fury

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write-orflight · 3 years

Text

Watch Over Me: Chapter One

**Gif Not Mine**

Prev - Next

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader

Rating: M

Words: 3.2K

Warnings: none for this chapter: innuendo, language

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

Summary: Steve Rogers learns about the future from a woman stuck in the past.

A.N This is my jazz club reader fic I’ve been talking about writing. This fic isn’t gonna be long but I like it so I hope yall do too. I’m not using my perm taglist because it’s different than my normal content. reply, message, or inbox to be tagged. Devil Has Lilith will be updated Saturday.

Slang used in this chapter:

Dish: An attractive Woman

Butter and egg man: The money man, the man who comes to town to blow a big wad in nightclubs.

Dip the bill: Have a drink.

Corn: Bourbon

Cake-eater: A ladies’ man

Jalopy: An old car.

Drop a dime: Make a phone call

Chapter 1: There's a somebody I'm longin' to see

“I can’t watch this anymore!” Tony said storming into the compound’s kitchen one night. Steve looked up from his sketchbook in confusion. “I can’t watch you sit in here another friday night. It’s tragic!”

“Ugh, not this again, Tony.” Steve says, sighing. Nat and Bucky begin snickering next to him, knowing where the conversation was going.

“Yes, this again. Cap, I excused it for the first couple of years because you were adjusting to the times but it’s been years! If you’re not on a mission, you don’t go out! Sometimes, when Pep is having trouble sleeping I describe your social life to her, puts her right slee--”

“Alright, I get it!” Steve cuts him off, slapping Bucky, who was in full hysterics at this point, in the arm. “I know my personal life is--”

“Non-existent?” Nat provides.

“Dead?” Tony adds, laughing.

“But it’s my personal life. I’m over 100 years old. If I looked it, you guys wouldn’t be questioning my staying home.”

“Exactly, if you looked it, I wouldn’t. But you are not that old yet.” Tony says. “Come on, let’s just all go out once. If you don’t like it, I’ll never make you go out again. I’ll even get you a coloring book or a model ship, or whatever old people do.”

“Fine.” Steve sighed, as the man next to him cheered. “But nothing like those places you typically go to. They’re too noisy and sweaty and--”

“Yea I got it, old-timer. We’re not going anywhere like that.” Tony provides. “My friend recently opened a restaurant where their back room is a speakeasy, very accurately themed, you need a password and everything to get in. You’ll fit right in.”

“Prohibition ended in the 30s.” Bucky says. “Long before Stevie could even drink.”

“Even still, work with me a little here.” Tony says.

“Fine.” Steve sighs.

“Awesome. Now, you’ve got to come in costume to these things so I’ve already taken the liberty of telling my tailor to make you guys something.”

“What if I had said no?” Steve asks.

“Oh, Cap. You should know by now I don’t take no as an answer.”

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

Steve shifted uncomfortably in his uniform. It was almost exactly like the one he would wear out during down times in the war though he knew it wasn’t the real one as that one was in the Smithsonian. Still, Tony’s tailor did a good job with seemingly all the costumes. Tony looked almost identical to how Steve remembered Howard back in the day. Bucky was in a uniform that looked similar to his back in the day, Glove covering his metal hand. Natatsha was in a sleek red gown, white gloves and pearls that was more modest than he’d seen her wear but still made her look drop dead gorgeous.

Tony led them down a dark alley to what seemed to be a back door. Steve looked around confused as they entered the smokey hallway. At the end of the hallway there were two large doors and a lady with pinned up hair and a black shimmery dress, smoking with her feet propped up on the desk she was sitting at.

“Evening gentlemen.” She croons in an english accent. “And lady. Are you lost?”

“We have a meeting with Dr. Volstead.” Tony says, confidently.

The woman tilts her head back giving all of you a once over. “It’s a nice night, isn’t it?” She asks.

“Yes, it is. But I prefer the rain.” Tony says.

With that the woman stands and walks over to the large doors and knocks rhythmically 3 times. The doors open to reveal a large dance hall where couples are in full swing, laughing and drinking. A trio of girls crooned a faced paced song as a jazz band was playing behind them. For a moment, Steve did actually forget he was in the 21st century.

“Enjoy Paradise, my friends.” The woman smiles, before shutting the doors to the outside world.

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

You were in the kitchen, taking a much needed headache break from the facade you had been putting up for your tables all night long when your Co-worker, Dalia, came up to you.

“Y/N, Y/N! You have to trade tables with me.”

You looked at her with a suspicious look. “Why?”

“Come on, It’s a 4-top anyway. I’ll even trade you the party table for it.” That made you even more suspicious. “50 bucks for it, come on.”

“Don’t trade, Y/N/N!” Your co-worker and friend/roommate, Jade added. “Tony Stark is in your section. I bet she only wants to give you 50 for it because she knows she’ll make 500.”

“Come on, that’s not even why.” Dalia groans. “Black Widow is also at your table and you know she’s on my ‘Celebrities I have to fuck before I die’ list.”

“God, are the rest of the avengers here?” You ask.

“Not all but you know who is here?” Jade asks. “Steve Rogers.” She says, in a mocking singsong tone, jabbing you. Your crush on Captain America wasn’t really a secret anymore after you confessed it drunk one night. “And he looks almost edible.”

You hum, you didn’t really feel like taking another table but this wasn’t a normal table. You doubt you had a chance but you weren’t passing up on serving Steve Rogers.

“I’ll make you a deal. I still want that 50 bucks and we share the table, I’ll consider splitting the tip.” You say, the idea of making your rent in a night did appease you.

“Deal.”

“Now ladies, I have a song to do.” You say, leaving the girls behind in the kitchen.

—————————————-

Steve, for the first time in a while it seemed, was having fun. Tony was right, he did feel like he fit right in here. He clapped with the crowd, as the three girls bowed and left the stage. The piano man stood up and took the microphone Steve could tell was only styled to look old but actually wasn’t that old.

“One more time for the Duclaw sisters folks.” The smooth voiced man said into the microphone, inciting another round of applause from the crowd. “Our next performer is actually the last of the night.” That incited a few ‘awws’ of disappointment. “Don’t cry just yet because Old Gary never disappoints, our next performer is my personal favorite. Sings like a Canary and the Cat who caught it.” That induces a laugh from the crowd and a small chuckle from Steve. “And maybe if you’re good she’ll come on for an encore later. Ladies and Gentlemen, The Sultry Sounds of Y/N L/N.” He says, moving from the mic back to the piano as the crowd cheers. Steve watches the stage as arguably the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen seems to glide out from the backstage. She’s wearing a floor length silver gown that seemed to glimmer with every step she took. Her hair came down in long fingerwaves, pinned back so you could see the sculpt of her face. Steve would be lying if he said that wasn’t his favorite part of her facade. She had on simple eyeliner, foundation, and a bold red lip he could probably see from mars. You were beautiful, in a timeless sort of way.

“My, my.” She crooned in an sultry old new york accent that reminded Steve of the women he grew up around. “What would your wife say if she knew I was your favorite, Old Gary?”

“She’d agree!” The man called from the piano, inducing the chuckle from the crowd. And a deep sultry one from you.

“Well as they say, two’s just fine but three’s a party.” She winked at the old man in a way that would make Steve weak if he wasn’t already sitting.

“You ok there, Cap?” Tony said, snapping Steve out of the mystery woman’s trance. “You disappeared for a second.”

“I’m fine.” Steve said, fighting the flush that threatened to spread over his face. He looks out the side of his eye to Bucky, who was smirking at him knowingly. Of course, he knew.

“You know, you saying something about being good got me thinking, Old Gary.” She said, as the man softly played behind her. “A good man is hard to find. Great men are great, bad men are good sometimes too.” She winked to the crowd. “But every girl wants a good man, someone to watch over her.” Old Gary seems to take the cue to start playing her song.

“There's a saying old, says that love is blind. Still we're often told, ‘seek and ye shall find’” She began singing and it made Steve sit up in his seat. She had the kind of voice that was almost beckoning. She was becoming his own personal siren. “So I'm going to seek a certain lad I've had in mind”

“She’s a looker, huh?” The server, who introduced herself as Dalia, said as she sat down Bucky’s drink. “Y/N’s the main dish of this place.”

“I think I’m more interested in you, doll.” Bucky flirted, shamelessly.

“And I think I’m more interested in dames, Soldier.” She says, winking to Natasha who smiles coyly at her. Steve hardly pays them any mind as his focus was on you as you finished your song and thanked the crowd and waved while Old Gary helped her off stage.

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

You were changing from your stage outfit into your floor outfit when Dalia burst into the locker room.

“Y/N/N, I actually think I might have a chance with Widow. I mean, she’s kinda been ignoring me the whole night but when I mentioned I was into girls she smiled!” Dalia ranted, excitedly as you nodded. You turned your back to her so she’d get the clue to zip you up which she does. “Also, you should’ve seen the way Steve Rogers was watching you sing. He totally wants to hit that.” That makes you perk up a bit.

“I doubt it. I have it under good authority that he hasn’t hit anything in over 70 years. I doubt I’m what he’s been waiting for.” You laugh. “Still, it’s fun to think about.”

Dalia tugs you out of the locker room. “Come on, let's get back out there.”

You sighed before stepping out of the locker room and seemingly out of this century.

You fake laughed with a guest at the bar as you grabbed your tray of drinks and made your way over to the table that had been making you nervous all night. You placed the four whiskey rocks drinks on the tables.

“Courtesy of Dean.” You say, placing the drinks down. Stopping at Tony Stark. “Don’t know why? You seem to be the butter and egg man out tonight.

“Butter and egg?” He asks, looking to Steve and Bucky.

“Means money man, High roller.” Bucky explains, Steve nods.

“Ah, well I am that.” Tony says, laughing. “I must say Miss, what was it? Y/N?” You nod confirming. “I have to say you are quite the performer.”

“Thank you kindly, Mr. Stark. Go ahead, dip your bill.” You say pointing to the drink, Hoping they’d get the hint. They did of course, after seeing Steve and Bucky take a sip. You watch Steve grimace slightly at the taste of the liquor.

“Everything alright, fella?”

You watch Steve flush at the attention being tossed his way. You can’t help the confident smirk that graced your face knowing it was you that had Steve Rogers flustered. “I’m fine, I just don’t enjoy the taste.”

You hum. “Yea, it’s the big cheese’s favorite drink and he’s known for liking it rough.” You wink, somehow making Steve flush more. That made you want to push it more. “I’ve got some corn in the back they call the Y/N because it feels really good when it’s going down.” That makes Steve choke a little and induces a hearty laugh from the group. “Can I get you a glass, Soldier?”

“Y-Yea, I’d like that.” Steve flushes. It was almost fun at this point.

“I’d love to try the real thing.” Bucky says, flirting right back with a smirk you knew has to make every girl in the 40s weak in the knees. You didn’t indulge him though.

“Well, aren’t you a regular cake-eater.” You smirk. “I’ll be back with two glasses.”

“I see the serum didn’t enhance your ability to talk to pretty girls.” Bucky laughs as you want away. Steve can’t help but become a little distracted by the sway of your hips.

The rest of the night seemed to go like that. You bringing them drinks and flirting with the captain anyway you could just to see the pretty flush that spread across his face. But soon the time came for the superheroes to take their leave. As you sat the check in front of Tony, you brushed a hand over the Captain’s shoulder admiring the broadness of them.

“You’ll come back and see me, Sugar?” You say, phrasing it like a question despite it not really being one. Steve nods, dumbfounded by you. You smile and wink at him before walking away.

You’re in the kitchen eating the pizza you had ordered earlier when your manager, Dean comes out of his office for the first time that shift.

“Y/N!” You roll your eyes when you hear him scream your name. “What do you think you’re doing?!”

“I’m eating dinner. Something I could’ve done on my break if I ever got one.”

“You know you’re not supposed to be eating anything that couldn’t be made in the 30s. People pay for the illusion and if they see you gorging yourself on pizza, it ruins it.”

“No one’s looking in the fucking kitchen, Dean.”

“Uh-huh, and another thing. You know what kind of songs you’re supposed to sing.” You roll your eyes harder. You knew this argument was coming. “That song is from the 50s and you knew it.”

“None of those bullshit hipsters know who Ella fucking Fitzgerald is!” You yell. “Much less what years her fucking songs came out. That song killed and that’s all that fucking matters.”

“Change your set or you’re fired.”

That makes you laugh in his face. “Uh-huh, as if you’re going to find a singer who’ll work as cheap as me.” You say, brushing past him. “See you tomorrow.”

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

Steve comes back to the bar the following week. He tells himself that it’s just for a quick drink but he knew the real reason was because he could not stop thinking about you. He also knew you were probably just being friendly because it’s your job to. He just needed you to reject him so he could go on with his life.

He found himself in that hallway again approaching the woman he had seen last week.

“Evening, Sir.” She says. “Are you lost?”

“Umm.. I have a meeting with Mr. Volstead?” Steve questions, not really recalling the password fully.

The woman hums. “Nice night, no?” She says.

“I prefer the rain.”

The woman sighs. “I’m sorry. I typically would let you in because I don’t really care but technically I’m not supposed to let anyone who doesn’t know the password in… even if they are kinda famous.” She says. “The password changes every week. I’m sure if you ask Mr. Stark, he can find it for you.”

“Oh, no worries. Sorry for wasting your time.” Steve sighs, turning back out the building.

He’s approaching where he parked his bike when he hears a string of expletives being screamed followed with a car stuttering before not starting. He looks over to see a woman angrily get out of her car and lift the hood to see it smoking. The woman lets out another stream of expletives before kicking the tire and leaning her head on the roof of the car, defeated. For some reason, he feels compelled to go over and see how he could help. As he got closer he couldn’t believe his luck, it was you. He tapped you lightly on the shoulder and you turned with the beginnings of tears in your eyes.

“Oh, Soldier!” You said, quickly turning around to wipe your eyes and putting the facade you typically used with customers back up. “I almost got offended when you didn’t come back to see me. Imagine a broad’s old luck.” You said, smiling flirtatiously. Steve didn’t buy that smile for a second. He could see in your eyes you were still upset.

“Everything okay?” He asks.

“Oh, everything’s swell! This old jalopy has seen better days, gonna drop a dime to a friend hopefully--” You cut yourself off, switching into your normal speaking voice. “Listen, I’m sorry I just can’t keep talking like this off the clock. I’ll drive myself insane. Please, don’t tell my boss. I’m already on thin ice for not ‘maintaining the illusion’.”

Steve laughs, a weight suddenly feeling lifted off his shoulders. Suddenly you weren’t this mysterious woman who seemed to have all the right things to say and how to say them. You were human, just like him. “Your secret’s safe with me.” He says.

“Good.” You say, smiling briefly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I’ve gotta call Triple A for a tow.” You say, pulling your cell phone out. Steve had to admit it looked a little weird to see you with a cellphone in your olden days attire.

“How will you get home?” He asks.

“I’ll probably hoof it.” You shrug. “Or take the subway.”

“At night?!” Steve says, incredulously. “No, I can take you if you’d like.”

You look at him, hopefully. “I don’t want to be a burden.” You say.

“You won’t be one.” He smiles. God, that smile made you feel a little weak.

“Okay.” You smile back.

“Are you hungry by chance?” He asks, as the two of you walk back to his ride. “I was going to eat in the bar but I couldn’t remember the password.” He says, sheepishly.

That makes you laugh out loud. “Those passwords are such bullshit, Dean keeps changing them to keep it ‘exclusive’ but they always end up online anyway.” You say. “Every server has their own password, to keep track of regulars coming in. If you tell them you have a rose delivery for Mae, They’ll take you to my table no questions.”

“Mae?” Steve asks.

“For Mae West.” You explain, That makes Steve laugh again, of course you liked Mae West. “I could eat though. There’s actually a diner right down the road from here.”

“Perfect.” He says, straddling onto his bike. He raises an eyebrow at you when you hesitate. “Something wrong?”

“I’ve never ridden on a bike before is all.”

“As long as you hold on to me, you’ll be fine.” He says, smirking when he sees a flush creep over your face as he hands you his helmet. It was about time for you to be flustered by your interactions.

“I have no problems with that.” You say, placing that helmet on your head after you straddle the bike behind him. Your hands are tight around his waist as the two of you ride out of the lot, leaving Paradise behind.

Taglist: @buckybarneshairpullingkink

#steve x reader #steve rodgers x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers x you #steve Rogers x self insert #steve x you #steve rodgers imagine #steve rodgers #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain America x y\n #captain america imagine #steve rogers imagine

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kadhis-stuff · 3 years

Text

You can’t keep a secret forever

Summary: How is a woman supposed to tell her husband, who has been married to her for almost 7 years now, that she can read minds? That she has been able to since the first moment they met?

This is a gift for @nonokoko13! (AO3 link). I hope you enjoy it! Here’s my little contribution to the Damianya part of the fandom :)

Anya’s unstoppable right foot shook so hard that the dining table moved to her tune, causing a metallic sound from the table legs hitting the floor. Her hands joined forming a fist that was holding her chin. She was staring at the ceiling of her house, looking for some inspiration on what to do. As if the ceiling tiles were an almighty god with all the answers willing to share with mere mortals.

Anya was concerned. A concerned 26-year-old woman. A concern police officer in these peaceful times. She never told anyone about this. Not even her parents. It was an intrinsic part of herself. It grew to be normal on her. Part of what defines what Anya Forger-Desmond is.

How is a woman supposed to tell her husband, who has been married to her for almost 7 years now, that she can read minds? That she has been able to since the first moment they met?

What people has always said about her is that she is a very perceptive person. And as the years went by, she got better at hiding it. No one has been able to hide a secret from her for long. And that is something that, today, was making Damian miserable.

Damian decided that this year was going to be the year. He will blow her mind with the most astonishing surprise ever. He will prove to her that he still has it, after all these years of marriage. For her to remember the feeling of being on the lookout and not knowing what to expect. The knowledge of something coming her way without a clue of what might that be.

Two things were wrong with Damian’s assumptions. First, he has never, ever, surprised her. Not on purpose at least, not by planning something out. He shouldn’t need to prove that he still has anything in that regard. And secondly, she doesn’t know how it feels to be non-puzzled because people usually think about the surprises while they are being planned or revealed. She hasn’t figure it out a way to put a spoiler alert tag on people, so she just deals with it.

Why was Damian getting so frustrated about this lately?

The worst part is that his poker face is too good. There are times in which she knows what Damian is truly thinking just because she can read his mind. Instead, she is an open book.

Faking surprise? Yeah, that has never worked out for her before.

After faking a face, she is always hit by the thoughts “Oh, she saw it coming” “She knew about it” “Surely Becky told her” “Surely Damian told her” “Am I this bad at lying?”

His husband was feeling insecure and he did not tell her, she knows it because she is able to read. His. Mind.

What to do? What to do?

She growled at the ceiling tiles.

She truly thought she was going to be able to take this secret to her tomb. She never told Mama and Papa, and the only one that -probably- knew it, was Bond.

She took a sip of the hot chocolate she prepared to help herself think. Why did she decide to keep it a secret from them all these years?

Right. That night. When she was just an 8-year-old.

~V~V~V~V~V~V~V~V~V~V~V~V

She had the popcorn’s bowl in her lap. Mama was on her right, watching the movie. Papa was on her left, reading a book. Bond was lying in front of her, eyes closed, unfazed by the fighting sounds coming from the TV. It was the latest Spy Wars movie. One of the bad guys had the ability to read minds with a machine.

Loid and Yor already knew about each other secret lives and after a bit dramatic fight, they accepted each other identities and decided to live together after all. Which made possible for Anya to live a real life with them. And she was pondering the possibility to tell them. To also come clean of secrets. For them to be the first people in her life to know. So, she gathered courage, her hands forming fists and asked with the most casual tone she could gathered “Isn’t that cool?”

“What, Anya?” Asked Yor cocking her head with closed eyes and her always gentle smile, who was paying attention to the movie.

“Being able to read minds”. No, she cannot do it. Oh shit, she was already doing it. Panic. She ate a handful of popcorn at once. Swallowed it quickly to continue. “What do you think about that?”

Loid was the first to reply, in his detached matter-of-fact way of speaking, so serious and yet so smooth “Well, even if it is certainly an advantage it might be dangerous. It seems that the machine could blow out at any minute now”

Not the answer she was hoping. Anya wanted to divert the attention from the movie. Was Papa even paying attention to it? He was supposed to be reading. “But think about it in real life” she took her mother’s hand. She wanted to ask ‘what if I was the one reading minds’ but she was too scared to hear the answer, so she said the next thing she thought about. “What if mama were able to read our minds all the time?”

“M-Me?” A soft pink colored her cheeks, and she gave it a thought. “It could be a little tiring I guess, not being able to focus on my own mind because everybody is thinking around me”

That was an accurate way to describe it. Although Anya was getting better at handling it.

“It will probably be weird for the people around her.” Her father got her attention in a second, now we were talking. “I wouldn’t be able to look Yor in the eyes the same way again.”

“Why?” And her voice was probably a pitch higher than before.

“If a person can read your mind, they will know you better than anyone else. They will know what you think even if it is not what you chose to say, so they will not only know the person you want to be or the one you are trying to become, but they will know the true you. And that is something terrifying somehow. Not all people will be able to handle that.”

“Will you get away from mama if she was able to read minds?”

“No, I don’t have secrets from Mama anyway”

But Anya could read minds. And she knew what Loid’s real answer was. She still tried one more time.

“And you Mama, will you stay with Papa even if he was able to read your mind?”

“Of course, sweetheart”

But the devasting truth was that both were terrified of the idea. And although they didn’t directly think “yes, I will leave”, they both imagined multiple situations in which they would rather die from shame than letting the counterpart know their deepest secrets.

“I see” was all that Anya was able to say, while shrinking more into the couch.

“Why are you making that face Anya?” Yor asked, hugging her shoulders with one hand. “Nobody is able to read minds, so you don’t need to worry about it”.

But she did worry about it. Because at the short age of eight, she swore to herself to never reveal her deepest secret to anyone. It was something bad. It was something to be ashamed of. Anya would rather die than letting anybody know about it and let them treat her differently because of it.

~V~V~V~V~V~V~V~V~V~V~V~V

But here she was. Pondering her options. Because maybe the truth was what Damian needed right now. Maybe he could be the first. Maybe she could trust him to not destroy her feelings with utter rejection.

Two weeks ago, Becky invited her for lunch and, as usual, she was telling her about the latest sweetheart she was dating. The conversation ended up shifting to Damian and Anya’s long-term relationship. This year they were going to celebrate the 7 years anniversary.

“There’s a saying, you know?” said Becky casually, taking the dessert spoon when the waiter brought her ‘Golden Opulence’ sundae. “If a marriage remains together after seven years, they will be together forever.”

“Non-sense, there wouldn’t be divorces after 10 years then.”

“I mean it, Anya. It’s called The Seven Year Itch”

Anya rolled her eyes and started to eat her own dessert. “And what’s supposed to happen on the 7th year?”

“Monotony. Love ends. People get bored. They feel like the compatibility is no longer there. That the other person just ‘don’t get it’ anymore.”

The last part caught Anya’s attention. Why was that ringing a bell on her head?

And then she remembered all the times along the year that Damian tried to do different things for her, which all ended up in a frustrated husband.

Could Damian fear they were not compatible anymore?

Anya face twisted like an open book to Becky.

“How is it going with Damian, Anya?” She had concern in her eyes. And Anya knew it was real concern. Becky took her hand over the table “Everything ok at home?”

“Yeah,” she tried to dismiss it with a smile “everything is fine”

But hey, she was friends with Becky for over 20 years now. And Anya did not really know how to lie to save her life.

Becky insisted.

“Okay, well, there might be something” twirling her fingers in rounds, looking to the ground pouting, Anya mumbled indescribable words to Becky before finally saying it: “I think Damian is a bit concern about the fact that he can’t surprise me”

“Nobody can surprise you. You are too good at reading people. And a terrible liar.”

“And he has known about it for years now!” Yes Becky, agree with her. It was not her fault. It was not her fault. “It shouldn’t be that big of a deal, right?”

“Then why do you think he is concerned about that?” Becky was confused.

Because she knew.

A couple days back, Damian got up earlier to cook her favorite breakfast and took it to her bed. But Anya knew that it was going to happen before hand because he bought and hid the ingredients the day before, so she did her best sleepy surprised expression and started to eat.

Damian’s thoughts were loud in his head “Loser. I cannot even surprise her when she is half asleep. Nothing works”

But he did not tell her that, instead, he kissed her forehead and walk out of the room with the excuse of meeting his brother early that day. Lie. He just wanted to be out of there. Away from her.

Anya replied: “He told me he feels bad because he can’t surprise me, I just want him to know that it is not his fault”

“Well, there’s a limit on how perceptive a person can be. I had surprise you before. It’s hard, yes, but possible. It might be kind of his fault” Actually, Becky surprised her on a moonless night.

“It is not” Anya hit her head into the table with a defeated expression on her face “I need him to understand that”.

She can only get surprised on moonless days. But how to explain it without telling the truth?

And here she was.

Thinking.

Considering.

Pondering.

Did it worth the risk?

She was so deeply scared about how hard she wanted to tell him. How hard she wanted to trust him. To believe he will love her no matter what. She has known Damian since he was 6 years old. She knows how good or bad he can be. The deepest secrets of his heart. What makes him happy even if he has never openly said so. There is no human being that she knows better than him.

Damian was certainly going to panic.

But will he overcome it? Accept it?

She was so scared that she picked today, a moonless day, to do so. She wasn’t strong enough to hear the rejection coming from him. Her heart wouldn’t handle it. No matter if he later thinks twice about it and accept it. She couldn’t stand the idea of hearing him fear her.

She heard the doorknob opening and her mind went blank, her back ran cold and her hands got sweaty. Was it right? Would it help him to know? Would it make it worst? She doesn’t know.

“I’m home”

He immediately noticed the distressed on his wife. “Is everything alright?”

“No” elbows on the table, she just holds her forehead with her fists. Eyes closed “Can you please take a sit? We need to talk”.

Damian did as requested, showing a hint of concern in his face.

Although a part of Anya appreciated the silence for her to gather her thoughts in order, the other part wanted to peek into Damian’s head and see what he was thinking.

“I know you have been mad a lot lately”.

She looked at him right in the eyes. It seemed to take him aback.

“Me? Mad? About what?” He deviated his gaze quickly, as if looking for a better answer. He was also a terrible liar, somehow.

“About the fact that you can’t surprise me”

Damian’s eyes turned sad, avoiding her gaze he just stared at the table. “Am I that much of an open book to you?”

“No- Yes. Err, something like that”

Still avoiding her gaze, he moved his eyes to the window next to them. “I’m sorry for not being able to do the same for you”

She took his hand over the table; he was still refusing to look at her.

“Damian, please look at me”

She squeezed his hand. He finally did.

“There’s something important I need to tell you. It might sound crazy, but it is the truth. And I’m terrified of telling you. Nobody” and she repeated the word with all the emphasis she could gathered in her voice “Nobody, knows about this. It is my most guarded secret and I swore to myself that I will take it to my tomb”

That got Damian’s attention. Momentarily forgetting how shitty of a husband he was feeling lately.

“I love you, Damian. And I trust you” she was scared. So scared that Damian’s hand was wet with her sweat now. “And I will tell you”

This is it. She will say it. Her heart was beating faster than ever. She was going to reveal her deepest secret.

“The reason why neither you nor anyone can’t surprise me is because…”

Silence. She bits her lip. She cannot face him. She stops to stare at his eyes and lowers her gaze.

“Because…”

Damian squeezes her hand softly this time, encouraging her to talk.

She sighs. Shuts her eyes harder. Takes a big breath and hold it for a couple seconds, until finally releasing it, talking as fast as she could “BecauseICanReadMinds”

Damian asks her to repeat herself, slowly this time.

“Because I can… read minds”

Of course, Damian doesn’t believe it. He drops her hand and stand up from the table. So much mystery and expectation for a joke. He was truly feeling bad about it and Anya wanted to do one of the weird jokes in an honestly bad time.

Damian was feeling insecure. He heard about the Seven Year Itch at work early that year. And he realized that without space for doubts Anya was the person that knew the most about him. But did he know about her the same way? Did he pay enough attention? And what about the relationship? Was he getting monotonous? Will Anya look for other men that can provide her the excitement she so dearly appreciates in her life? How much can she stand his own inaptitude?

So yeah, Damian is pretty pissed off. He gives her his back and walks towards the bedroom for some cooling off time.

“I’m telling the truth!” he hears her say.

He stops on his track and looks at her sideways. “Yeah? What am I thinking right now?”

She feels like stabbed. She didn’t think he was going to assume it was a lie. She was worried about a bunch of other scenarios. “I don’t know! It doesn’t work on days without moon!”

“How convenient. Should I assume today is a New Moon day?”

Damian was already reaching the shared bedroom when Anya took his hand to stop him. Once he entered the room, he was going to shut the door and keep her out for a couple hours until to cool down. He always did it when he was truly pissed off. She knows it and doesn’t want to let him do it. Because once he cools off, she could get cold feet and now that she has resolved to tell him, she did not want to brush it off as a joke or something like that.

“Damian, look at my eyes”

He ignored her.

She took his head with one hand and made him face her. “Look at me”

He finally did.

“I’m telling you the truth. I am adopted. People did things to me when I was a kid, in a lab. I can read minds since I am 3 years old. I had read your mind since the first time I met you. Every day. Except on days when there’s no moon in the sky”

And Damian does know something about his wife. She cannot lie to him to save his life. That is why even if she has tried to act surprised for years, he has always known when she was faking it. He thought it was because she pitied him. He was bad at surprises, and because he couldn’t properly catch her off guard, she fakes it. What Anya was just saying…? Could it be true?

“Why are you telling me this on the day you can’t prove it?”

“Because I’m terrified on what you might be thinking about me.” After saying that, she broke the eye contact with him “I do not want to hear your rejection.” She lets his hand loose “I might still hear it tomorrow, because you can’t trick your own thoughts. I will know the truth. But I couldn’t do it today.”

Damian knows with certainty; he does love his wife. He has loved her for many years now and undoubted he will do it for many years to come. He could not stand watching her like this. It broke his heart. He holds her in a tight hug.

The moment he hugged her Anya started to cry. He spoke softly into her ear “What you are telling me right now is so nonsensical, absurd. Crazy. But I want you to know that no matter what, I love you. And I won’t reject you even if you were an alien from another planet”

Her shuddering sobs started to calm down “Even if I came from Pluto? It is not a planet.”

“Even then, Anya”

She holds him tight “I am sorry”

“About what”

“Being unable to fake my surprise face and making you sad about it”

He removed a tear from her cheek before placing a small kiss on her lips “I preferred it that way. That makes me enjoy more when I see you genuinely surprised. Maybe that’s why I try so hard.”

They stood there for a while, in a comfortable silent hug.

“So how does it work?” He asked.

“Well, I can hear what you think in front of me. If I concentrate enough, I can hear a specific person several feet away”

“Can you know something about a person that is not actively thinking it in that moment?”

“Like look into a person’s memories?”

“Yeah”

“No, I can’t. Just what they are thinking at that time.”

“I see”

Silence again.

Damian broke it, again. Flustered this time “So you have been able to read my mind all this time?”

“Yes”

“W-were you able to read it when I was thinking of kissing you for the first time?”

“Every time until you finally did it” She laughs.

Damian was full red-faced at this point “Did you also read it on Becky’s 18th birthday party?”

Anya’s cheeks dyed pink at the memory “Y-Yeah”

This time Damian covered his face with both of his hands. “Did you read it on our wedding?”

“No” That got him out of the ashamed-zone for a second.

“Why?”

“I ensure it was on a moonless day. I didn’t want to get myself overwhelmed by all the guest’s thoughts on such special day”

Silence.

“That makes sense”

“Yeah”

More silence.

“So, you can’t read them today even if you try hard?”

“Not a single word”

He nods with his head.

“I think I get it”

“Are you not like… feeling weird?”

“Yes, I am”

“… Would you have preferred for me to not tell you never about this?”

He denied with his head “Thank you for telling me, it must have been hard”

“Not even my parents know”

“Really?”

“Really”

Anya didn’t need to read his head to know that he was feeling pretty cocky about it. It was painted all over his face.

More silence.

Out of the blue, Damian started to laugh. He brushed his hair with his fingers and looked at her with sparkles in his eyes.

“I swear I will surprise you this Christmas”

She laughs.

“And how are you going to do that?”

“Now that I know how you do it, I will train myself from here to December. I will need your help, though”

“I will gladly help”

She smiled.

“I love you”

He smiled.

“I love you too”

She figured it out it was okay to tell him the other secret not even her parents knew. If we are coming clean, we are coming clean about everything.

“You know… I am also two years younger. I lied about my age for my papa to adopt me.”

Damian thought about it for several minutes. Face full red again once he talked.

“Y-You were sixteen on Becky’s party!?”

~V~V~V~V~V~V~V~V~V~V~V~V

After that day back in August, they set up a calendar on the fridge door marking the moonless days. The day after “the talk”, Damian spent all morning having a talk to her. Or more like, keeping his mouth shut while she was keeping the conversation out loud with Damian playing with the fact that he can hold a conversation with her without pronouncing a single word.

It had been fun, somehow, watching Damian adapt to his new life over the months.

He soon realized Anya probably knew about all the people he had wanted to kill at some point. She also knew when he thinks about another woman being pretty. She totally knew when he lied to her about enjoying some new food she cooked. She knew when he was being mean with people in his head without reason.

He sometimes forgets and still lies to her. Then, he gets self-conscious about the fact she already knows the truth and apologize for lying.

He has also caught her off guard and surprised her already a couple times. The trick is to think about literally anything else near her and plan the surprises when she is not close by. A bit more difficult, but definitely more gratifying.

She knew all the good and all the bad that was in his mind, and after seeing everything she still loved him. She has always known, since he was a child, and after all this time she was not only still his friend but accept him as a partner to spend her life with.

How can he ever have doubts about her feelings again? How if she already knew everything about him and accepted him as he is?

Is it fair to be blessed in this life with the sincere and absolute love of a person that truly knows you?

For Anya, the feeling was mutual. The first weeks she cried of happiness almost every day. Damian didn’t leave her. He accepted it. Looked for ways to make it work. Embraced it as a challenge to surpass together. As a team.

~V~V~V~V~V~V~V~V~V~V~V~V

On the Christmas day Anya woke up with an alarm’s sound coming from Damian’s side of the bed. She tried to move him to shut it off, but she just found an empty space next to her. A note left in his pillow. She opened her eyes and started to read it with a sleepy face, after shutting the damn thing off.

“Anya,

I’m sorry I was not there to kiss you a good morning today. I needed the alarm so you could eat your breakfast while it was still hot. Please get out of the bed and go to the kitchen. There’s a surprise waiting for you there”

Anya’s smile was big in her face. What? She was enjoying the fact that she had zero clues about this.

She didn’t put shoes on and went out of the bedroom in a second, to the kitchen. The first thing she noticed in the hallway was the strong smell of roses.

The image that welcomed her left her speechless. There were fresh flowers everywhere and in her seat of the dining table there was a full set of plates and another note.

“There is fruit, fresh baked croissants, fried eggs and bacon. Plenty of orange juice and a big peanut can. You can either finish the peanuts after breakfast or carry them with you along the day for a snack. And because I didn’t want you to eat in silence, please go to take the TV remote and turn it on.”

She took a bite of one of the croissants and did as commanded. A video of recaps of their wedding day played with Bryan Adams’ “I do it for you” acoustic version playing in the background. After certain pictures there was a message.

The first photo in the video was one of Anya entering the church. “The moment I saw you step into the hallway, I cried”. The next one, was a photo of Damian crying in his suit. “Because the only thing that was crossing my mind was that I was the luckiest man in the world. You looked like an angel. The most stunning woman was walking in my direction, to declare to myself and the world that she willingly will spend all her life next to me. You continuously make me the best version of myself, Anya”. A third photo: Anya signing the official documents. “Or that’s what I would probably have been thinking if my brain hasn’t done shortcut at that moment”. The next photo that flashes across the screen was one of both exiting the church holding each other hand. “I swear to you I couldn’t think of anything. My mind was a loop of ‘wow’ until the priest started talking and I then I was forced to focus to remember my vows”.

Anya was shaking. A couple tears were rolling down her cheeks. She got pretty emotional watching the video. Several pictures of the party followed without any more messages until the end of the video. She finished the breakfast and took the peanuts can. A message showed up on the TV: “I know the bed is tempting on a Christmas day without responsibilities. But please go and get yourself ready. It is a sunny beautiful day, what about a walk in the park? Make sure to wear comfortable shoes.”

She went back to the bedroom, took a quick shower and got a pair of jeans, a white t-shirt and her favorite sneakers. On top of them, another note.

“I knew you would pick these ones. They are old Anya, let me give you new ones with the same color and style. Your refusal is non-negotiable this time around.”

Anya laughed, no. She will keep them until they are torn, and her toes shows at the front. What is a little worn shoe sole and colorless sections? She loves those shoes. He gave them to her a few years back, when she broke a heel in a night outgoing and the only opened store only sold sneakers. The note continuous

“A boy selling newspapers will be waiting for you in the park. He’s wearing a red t-shirt”

So, to the park it is.

It was a sunny day indeed. A lot of people with the day off were having a blast with their families, kids playing with dogs, old people playing chest, fathers and mothers teaching her kids how to use a bicycle for the first time. She wanted to be reunited with her family too.

It was easy to find the boy. He was so nervous that his thoughts were louder than the people around him “Pink haired woman, give it only to a pink haired woman that uses old shoes. Pink haired woman.”

“Hello there, are you the newspaper boy I’m looking for?”

He took a quick glance at her shoes and then cleared his throat looking for a newspaper in his bag. “They told me the job-hunting section was filled with important information, agent Peanut.”

Anya smiled. So that is what this is about. “Thank you, have a good day.”

While she was getting away to search for a free bench to sit on, she heard the thoughts of the boy running in the opposite direction “I need to tell the man I already did it”

She opened the newspaper, there was a pen marking the start of the section the boy mentioned. She read over the lines carefully until she noticed the pattern. The same they used in episode 703 of “Spy Wars”. The secret code was easy to decipher. Each line had two dots marking each one a letter. The letter that was in the middle of the two marked ones was the one she needs to mark in a circle. And reading it from bottom to top, she will get the message.

“Train station. 53. Seat 9A.”

Anya closed the newspaper and run towards the train station. Laughing her heart out. Such a fun morning. What was Damian planning to do?! She opened the peanuts can that brought with her and eat a few “Crazy man.”

She found out the train she was supposed to take was going to the city borders. In the seat 9A there was an envelope. She opened it.

“Agent Peanut, we have captured your husband. We will torture him until he reveals your deepest secrets. Do not even try to come to the old peanut’s abandoned factory outside the city where we have our secret liar. Coordinates: 51.08342, 10.423447”

The envelope also had the ticket for the ride. Anya rolled her eyes. Damian loved to make fun of the fact that the villain always gave its secret liar address to the good guys as if screaming “go and get me if you dare”. It was never this painfully obvious in the show. Except on episode 113, the one about ‘Bad-Man and the pâtissier heist’.

The train was already in movement when she heard a voice. “Ticket, please?”

She stared at the man and could hear his thoughts “Pink hair, green eyes”. “Are you Miss Peanut?”

A light blushed enlighten her face. It was ok for the newspaper boy to say it but having a fellow adult calling her that was a bit shameful “Yes”

The man took a backpack from the compartments above her seat. “This is for you”

The man left after marking her ticket, leaving her alone to explore the inside of the backpack. She covered her mouth with her hands. “Oh my god”

There were a couple toy guns with 30 bullets each. A belt to hold them. A water bottle, a black t-shirt, cap and sunglasses. There was also another envelope.

“Hey, don’t you dare abandon me.”

A quick sketch of a Damian tied to a chair saying ‘help’ was on the upper right corner of the paper.

Anya bit her lower lip and whispered the answer to herself: “Never”

She was able to change her clothes before reaching the destination. From the station, it was just a 15 minutes’ walk.

Her heart was beating fast. This was exciting. Damian was giving her surprise after surprise and she was loving it. It wasn’t even a moonless day. How come he did not think about this the previous days? He (his mind) usually won’t shut up whenever there’s a big surprise coming. Now that he knows she can read minds; did he take extra precautions? He on purpose force himself to think about everything but this? He was literally thinking about the Christmas lunch and where to go. Planning dinner with her parents. Was it a trick? Or will they go after this? What is it? She took some things for granted today and thought about the surprise being a gift in a box that she’ll open in the family dinner. This was a thousand times better.

She finally reached her destination. A bunch of voices caught her attention.

“Mister Damian is too sweet” Was one of the female voices.

“At least I’m getting paid twice for working on Christmas” another voice.

“I hope Anya doesn’t get hurt” A third one.

“I should have gotten a bigger breakfast this morning” A fourth one.

How much people did Damian had there?

But suddenly, a voice shut out: “Enemy on sight, enemy on sight!”

An alarm started to ring, and Anya’s heart felt like to explode from the adrenaline.

“Don’t let her go to the second floor!”

So that is where she was supposed to go.

Anya entered through an open window and suddenly a lot of gas started to fill the warehouse. Anya saw that the people inside was armed with the same guns she had in the backpack. She took one from the belt and started to shoot. The people she was shooting started to fall and ‘die’. She ran across the people in the middle of the smoke to the stairs when a big guy was waiting for her like a wall.

Anya was a 26-year-old police officer. She was mildly offended that there was only one guy. She easily passed through him and reached the second floor.

Fifteen-armed (with toys) people were waiting for her. Damian was tied in a chair with a smirk in his beautiful face, thinking for her mind only: “Are you going to rescue me or what?”

But the biggest surprise of all was the villain.

“Uncle Yuri?”

“Oh! You have finally find my liar, Agent Peanut!” he ignored her question, getting full in character “But you are late, your husband refused to give us information, so he is useless now. I have decided that he is going to die in 5 minutes!” A bomb with a clock was chained to Damian’s chest.

“I won’t let you!” She was full on combat mode now. Following the game. “Leave my husband alone! This is between you and me!”

“Soldiers, kill her!”

But Anya was too good. She didn’t stop laughing while fighting with the people they hired for this. When she was finally done with the ‘guards’ she faced her uncle: “Now it is your turn!”

“You think you can take me down in 4 minutes and a half? Keep dreaming! You’ll face your end at the hands of – he sighed and though “I can believe I’m going to say this but agh, whatever” - Bad-Man!” She was 100% sure they stopped the clock for dramatic purposes. Also Uncle Yuri performance, top notch!

Anya run to her uncle and kick him with all her might. He easily blocked it with his hand.

A bunch of kicks and fist fighting followed. Yuri was enjoying it as much as Anya. They trained together many years ago, but after Anya grew up and become a member of the police department, they stopped to have the sessions. There was no particular reason for it, they just didn’t have the time anymore.

So being here fighting each other was like a jump back in time. And Yuri’s eyes get a little bit to shiny and his smile was a bit too big while defending up from her attacks.

Finally, Yuri fell with a dramatic scream when Anya shot him in the chest with the toy gun. (it probably hurt, though. She was mere inches away from him).

There is no way in hell that the fight took less than 10 minutes. But when she run towards Damian the clock has a minute left before the explosion.

She took the tape out of his mouth and dramatically kissed him. “Are you alright?”

“Hurry Anya! The bomb is going to explode any second now!”

“What is the key?”

There was a circular padlock holding the timer. Anya looked around her and run to Yuri’s pockets. Empty.

“Have you seen something that circular today?” Damian asked her.

She tried to read his mind, but all she found was “I won’t tell you. I won’t tell you. I won’t tell you” repeated as a mantra.

35 seconds.

Think Anya, think.

And then it hit her. She opened the backpack and took the peanut can. Could it be?

She pushed the can against the padlock and the timer stopped.

She beamed at Damian with a smile in her face “Take that!”

He was, however, staring at her with a loving gaze “You did it wonderfully”.

She then released him from the chains and hugged him. “I love you so much”

He replied to her with a thought in his head: “No more than how much I love you, Anya. Merry Christmas”

“You, big dork” was all she could say in a voice faltering with love.

“That hurts, Peanut” Yuri’s voice was behind her “No hugs for the boxing bag you just defeat and keep ignoring?”

She turned around and hugged her uncle without saying a word. She then removed a couple traitor tears that escape her eyes. “So, what’s next?”

“The helicopter is waiting for us behind the building.”

“Helicopter?”

“I just wanted you to live the full experience” was her husband reply.

She intertwined his fingers on hers “Thank you for today”

But there was a final surprise.

Damian’s sweet smile was not showing all the embarrassingly intense passionate thoughts he suddenly sent her way about the plans for the rest of the day and night. Anya’s face grew red in an instant. One of the downsides of the new discovered power was that Damian enjoyed making her blush on public. His smile shift to a cocky one once he saw his wife reaction.

“Did you really though my plans ended up after lunch? It is as if you don’t know me at all”

“Well… I do have the rest of my life to do that”

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

Hope you like it! Happy holidays!

#damianya #aged-up #spyxfamily #spy x family #sneaky santa exchange #anya forger #damian desmond #my writing

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bogkeep · 3 years

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theo’s tarot collection

hi hello i suffer from a terrible ailment called I Keep Acquiring New Tarot Decks Even Though I Am A Tarot Newbie.... so i figured i could do a little writeup about my decks if anyone is interested in that :’) basically i started doing tarot in 2019 because i couldn’t get a hold of a therapist (i was put on a year long waitlist WAHOO) so i basically. self-medicated with tarot readings hahaha. i had a friend who gave me a lot of really good advice and had done some readings for me before who felt immensely comforting. the way i read them is like... it allows you to confront your situation and your emotions through a new angle, but you gotta be brave enough to do it - or ask someone to do it for you. it can be a really intense but also cathartic experience. it’s not for everyone! but i like it. i still consider myself a novice and still learning so i am not in ANY way trying to paint myself as a Knowledgabl Tarot Witch - in a perfect timeline that’s who i wish i was, but i’m ultimately just some guy with a solid appreciation for art and personal growth.

ANYWAY... onto my DECKS (the tumblr post will probably squish the quality outta my photos so i’m gonna link the URLs for Full View)

Children of Litha by Alexandria Huntington

i consider this my main and first deck (i am NOT counting the official homestuck deck i bought as a teen just because i wanted to look at the art. no offense to the homestuck deck i’m just not gonna use fandom decks)! i picked it out but my Tarot Friend gifted it to me... i think it’s a very good starter deck for me personally, and it’s the deck i’ve bonded with and used the most. i even put a fancy sticker on the box as part of the bonding process. i always feel so bad for all of my other decks because i haven’t been able to dedicate as much time for them as i have this one... so it’s definitely the deck i go to for the most accurate readings for myself. Vibes and Thematic Coherence: the art in this is so beautiful and elegant. the symbolism more or less draws on the classic smith-waite deck, but redrawn for its theme. i like that it has a very consistent imagery! out of the major arcana, the fool is the only fully human character - every other character is part animal in some way or other. then the suit of swords depicts birds, winged insects and the air element, coins depict ungulates and equines and earth, wands has felines and canines and fiery imagery, and cups has fish and creatures of and in the sea. the court cards have humans. the suit symbols are always depicted consistently, as white silhouettes. there are also two extra cards: the all and the void. Pamphlet: the reason i think this was a good starter deck is because both because the art feels very intuitive about what it depicts (to me, at least), the descriptions in the pamphlet describe what is happening and why the artist chose this motif for this card. it has honestly helped me remember the meanings a lot, because i’ll be reading the other decks and be like “oh that’s the octopus card i know what the octopus card is about”. there are also little poems next to the main descriptions that work as a pretty solid tl;dr for the core meanings. i also like that the court cards are referred to in the sense of like... a knight is “a young person with masculine energy” rather than “a young man”. it feels more fluid and vibe-y about gender than traditional decks ya feel. on a range from Abstract to Directness this one feels like it sits pretty comfortable in the middle, maybe leaning on Abstractness. it has always given me gentle instructions and advice.

Cardfeel: the cards are very smooth and nice with gold edges. the cards are not NOT solid, but i wish they had been a little thicker because i’m always afraid i’m going to accidentally damage them - but that’s probably a feeling i have about most of my possessions tbh!! i think they’re a good size, too, at least for my small hands. they’re more on the long/slender side so they are good for me to shuffle. i also like the box, it’s a hard flip box with a magnet. i think u can’t go wrong with that. this is the deck i’ve travelled with the most (did u know hotel beds are the best tarot reading spaces. for some reason they just Work). The Spacious Tarot by Annie Ruygt and Carrie Mallon

this is one i really like a lot and want to use more! i absolutely adore the concept of it, but it’s a little harder for me to read than the Litha one. Vibes and Thematic Coherence: this one is like!!! it’s about the open space and the quietness. the vibes are IMMACULATE. the cards aren’t filled to the brim with happenstance and symbolism, but they each feel like a little refuge. very meditative. i also like that the court cards are not gendered at all - there is no page, knight, queen and king, but rather child, explorer, guardian and elder. i am really into that, especially as steps of mastery of their suit. i do think that this deck is probably easier to read if you’re more experienced with tarot meanings and symbolisms, because the illustrations aren’t necessarily that intuitive. Pamphlet: i haven’t read through this one very much, but i think it’s more on the abstract side of the Abstract to Direct scale. it might just feel like that because it describes what the card symbolizes without drawing much on what the card depicts - it is generally a pretty abstract and meditative deck. i like it for what it is! but it’s harder for me to read than my main Litha deck. Cardfeel: there’s something about the cardfeel i wish was different. they’re perfectly ok cards, they’re smooth and not too thin, but i still wish they had had more heft or something. while the cards fit very well into my hands i think maybe they could’ve been Larger to emphasize their motifs of openness and space. or texture. or gilded edges. i really don’t know what i want. the box however is very good and easy to open and use!! never underestimate a good box.

Tarot of the Divine by Yoshi Toshitani

this is a deck i Had To Get because i knew the artist was working on it and i was always Planning To... it is not a deck i use very often but i absolutey adore it. you can also get it with an accompanying fairytale book, i thought i had ordered that but i was Wronge. Vibes and Thematic Coherency: it depicts motifs and characters from stories, myths, and fairytales from a vast variety of cultures. it’s AMAZING. the art is so clean and crisp and i was VERY EXCITED to find a card drawing on a sami story (page of coins)! i don’t have a lot to say except that yoshi yoshitani has done some incredible work on this. Pamphlet: while i do not have the Fairytale Book edition, the pamphlet is really super nice because it shows pictures of the cards, lists what story it depicts and where the story is from, gives a short description for how this scene or character embodies the card. it then lists some of the Card Characteristics beneath. very simple but very nice. i really like pamphlets that explain Why the artist picked the motifs they did - for me personally it really helps me connect to the deck and their symbols. it’s probably more on the Direct side of the scale thanks to this. Cardfeel: these are textured!! they feel like the playing card deck my grandmother has, which feels apt to me. textures make the cards feel solid to me. they’re also a very nice size to hold. the edges are not guilded, but with the white frames it looks good and nice. the box is nice but also Large, possibly to fit with the book? might not be ideal for travel, but there’s nothing stopping you from getting a different box or pouch.

The Star Spinner Tarot by Trung Le Nguyen

my most recent deck... i KNEW about the artist and the deck from before, but wasn’t PLANNING to get it, but then i saw it in the comic book store and i wasn’t able to pass it by. no regrets, it’s a wonderful deck. Vibes and Thematic Coherence: absolutely lovely art and style. it’s another deck drawing on fairytale themed motifs. i’m loving the use of colors and circles. it also has four different cards for the Lovers so you can choose which one(s) speak to you the most, something i think is just wonderful. i think the only thing i found a little... odd? was that the suit of Wands looks kinda same-y, which isn’t a bad thing, but it was the only suit that looked that way to me. they’re still very very nice. ALSO THE BACK OF THE CARDS ARE SHINY. I JUST THINK THAT’S VERY LOVELY. as a Physical Product these are chef’s kiss. Pamphlet: on the Abstract to Directness scale, these are VERY DIRECT. the pamphlet doesn’t say a lot about why the cards depict what they do, but go straight into card meaning, and in a very unambiguous way. i think it can both work very well, leaving you little room to avoid your feelings, but it also has a higher margin to miss completely. for being such a cutesy deck full of fairies the pamphlet is definitely giving you a smack at the side of your head. i haven’t used this deck a lot yet due to its newness, but i definitely want to try it out more to see what it does to me.

Cardfeel: out of all of my decks i think this has the best cardfeel... the cards feel really solid, and have a very good size that feel just right for them. like i sort of fell in love with the deck when i actually started shuffling it and browsing the cards. buying cards - especially on the internet - can be a gamble because you Can’t Know The Cardfeel. with decks like the Spacious Tarot i got a little dissappointed, but this one was a very pleasant surprise. also the box is very good and look like a work of art. The Fyodor Pavlov Tarot

honestly one of my new favourite decks that i ABSOLUTELY am going to use more and become more familiar with. also a deck that i knew the artist was working on, and supported the kickstarter the moment it was announced. my deck also came with two Magician cards and i don’t know why. extra wizard for me??? Vibes and Thematic Coherence: the look and feel of this deck is Immaculate. it looks very classical and traditional (and absolutely gorgeous), it is grounded in the classical smith-waite imagery but Expands Upon It, draws on the diversity of human culture and experiences... also loving the energy of “THIS CARD IS TRANS NOW AND THERE’S NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT” many cards have (most famously the Lovers, but i don’t want to post pics of any of the cards depicting nudity or risqué themes on tumblr). i absolutely adore the knight of coins card (THE HORSE IS HIS FRIEND AND SERVICE ANIMAL!!). it’s just Really Very Good. also the backside has pretty Shiny stars and i like it. Pamphlet: i really like this one. it is a deeply personal pamphlet, where fyodor pavlov directly discusses his relationship to the cards and why he chose the motifs he did. it feels really grounded in the world we live in, and also such a vulnerable thing to share with us all. it’s on the Direct side of the scale without necessarily telling you “the card is definitely this one thing”. my only wish is that it was easier to navigate at a glance. Cardfeel: THEY ARE TEXTURED!!! these cards are definitely long and slender and benefit someone with larger hands than mine, but i still like them a lot. i do wish they had been a smidge heavier just so i wouldn’t worry so much about damaging them... but i don’t want to be ungrateful. the deck and the box are wonderfully crafted. The Botanica Tarot by Kevin Jay Stanton

oh boy did i support the kickstarter for this one... i had actually bought the major arcana when it was the only version available, and then the artist decided to make a full deck. it’s an absolute work of art. Vibes and Thematic Coherence: oh boy oh boy does it serve vibes and thematic coherence. it’s Plants all the way down, OBVIOUSLY, but also like... every card in the minor arcana depicts their suit in its own way. like the range of coins/currency from various times and cultures?? AMAZING. looking at the art of this deck is a DELIGHT. every card manages to be beautiful and interesting despite there not being a single living creature depicted on any of them. i WILL say they, same as the spacious tarot, are not the most intuitive to read if you’re not super familiar with either the Plants or the meanings of the cards. Pamphlet: you can fit so much plant knowledge in this one. i got a version of the deck with a beautiful little book, but there’s also a small pamphlet that follows the deck itself (which i admittedly have not looked too closely at yet). there’s descriptions for why this specific plant has been chosen for each card, and then some Card Meaning Keywords. so definitely on the Abstract side of my imaginary tarot pamphlet scale, because you mostly have plant symbolism to go on. i haven’t done a lot of readings with this deck, i’ll be honest - but it’s a beautiful treasure that i adore. Cardfeel: they’re Smoothe and Guilded edges. they can feel a little wide for my hands, but not so much that i cannot shuffle. i think maybe a smidge of texture wouldve been good with this deck since it would fit the look of the painted art. i also did get like... a big kickstarter reward version of this deck. it came in a tin box with extra treasures and a cloth and pins... the actual card box itself is beautiful to look at, but i have to say that the one i got is VERY HARD TO OPEN. i might transfer the cards into a pouch if i want to be reading them more often. IKEA deck

yes this is a meme deck and i don’t really use it but I WANTED TO SHARE... i think the major arcana is very cool and funny, but i was dissappointed to find that the suit cards are just “ikea part but Multiple Times”. it also does not come with a pamphlet. also yes yes it’s funny that the names of the cards are spelled in a “silly ikea word language” BUT IKEA NAMES ARE JUST SWEDISH....... IT’S NOT A SECRET LANGUAGE IT’S JUST SWEDISH............ it’s a funny deck to have and it doesn’t take up much space so eh! shrugs!!! The Lubanko Tarot by Emily Lubanko

another kickstarter deck... it’s gorgeous but there is a chance i might gift it to someone else. not because i regret getting it or don’t like it, but because i already have so many decks that speak to me, while this one gives me vibes of serving someone else better. does that make any sense? i admittedly haven’t looked at the pamplet so much so i think i’m going to skip that description for this one. Vibes and Thematic Coherency: the MOVEMENT and the COLORS... it’s Capturing Feelings in a really good way. i mean. i got it for the vibes and it’s serving vibes. Cardfeel: Smoothe Cards. shiny silver edges, like a slippery fish in a rapid river. it feels good and right for this deck. also good box. i know most of these decks have Good Box, it’s just the botanica one that let me down by being difficult. The Oriens Tarot by AmbiSun

i don’t have this deck anymore, i gifted it to my boyfriend... i found these pics on my twitter. it’s one of the first decks i supported on kickstarter and it’s VERY pretty, and it has HOLOGRAPHIC RAINBOW EDGES HOT DAMN. it’s another one of those instances where i Yearned for it and then found that it didn’t fit me as well as i had hoped. tarot is just one of those things where you have to find what Works for you. at this time the children of litha was working so well for me and i really liked the depiction of animals in it, i wasn’t able to connect to another animal deck in the same way... and it was before my tarot collection snowballed into what i have now. C’EST LA VIE ... i don’t have a smith-waite deck. i’m a fake tarot fan. i am however familiarizing myself by following Jessica Dore on twitter and subscribing to her monthly newsletters. i really love how she talks about these cards and how she interprets them.

#tarot #i have also backed the alleymans tarot on kickstarter because of course i have.#i'll get back to you when i have it.

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