#you never had a chance! your opponents all gain their power from being dead men walking

[twinkle-art]

ignition

#better call saul #nacho varga #ignacio varga #gustavo fring #fanart #bcs spoilers #more spoilers in tags #okay so (screams) #DEEPLY enamored with the narrative weight of facing your death with dignity and spitting in the faces of men who we all know to be doomed #the ouroboros of being the first to die chronologically but the last from the perception of the audience #you never had a chance! your opponents all gain their power from being dead men walking #but the IMPACT of wrenching the steering wheel of the narrative as hard as you can- knowing the end point is already set #just to prove you were here you loved you were not broken down you WON because you're BETTER THAN THEM #nacho varga you will ALWAYS be famous

[priortoallthoughts]

Forgiveness

Rating: T

Word Count: 1.3k

Pairing: Imperial!Crosshair x gn!reader/jedi!reader

Warnings: Hurt, angst, heavily implied character death, not a happy ending

Summary: A mission to rescue Crosshair from the Empire goes awry and not everyone makes it back to the Havoc Marauder.

Masterlist

It’s a trap, of course. You agree that springing it is the best option, but this is more than you account for. He knows you well. Knows every strength and weakness for each one of you. And it makes him the most dangerous opponent you ever face.

“We have to go! Now!” You yell into your comms, deflecting blaster bolts into the city walls or non-lethal areas of the clones firing at you.

You wish the rest of the Bad Batch held the same sentiment about killing their brothers, but you all had to do whatever you could to survive. You, the Jedi - generals, peacekeepers - were supposed to lead and protect their soldiers. But nothing had been the same since Kaller.

---

You don’t know happened. One moment you were going on with the mission and the next you were being fired at by Depa’s men and Depa was dead, and Caleb was too close to them. Turning your lightsaber on the Batch had been painful, but you didn’t have a choice when Hunter and the others ran back to you. Would they attack you like the Depa’s men had? Would you have to defend yourself against the men you’d fought beside, laughed with, cried with, and loved? You didn’t know and it scared you. But what you did know was that you had to protect Caleb. You chased after him when he ran off, calling him back when Hunter talked to you just like he always did. He was just as confused as you were.

The force screeched the second before chaos erupted around you. When you turned to deflect the shot aimed for your head, the last thing you had expected was to be looking down the barrel of a smoking rifle. There was nothing that could describe the horror you felt, and the absolute heart break.

Crosshair, your friend, your love, the one you broke your code for, had just tried to kill you.

You felt it then. If you went back to Kamino it would be a death sentence. So you escaped with Caleb. You cried when you had to cut off his padawan braid, and finally went separate ways when you were safe off planet. It would have been too dangerous to stay together while there was still a chance of being hunted down.

Finding the Bad Batch again later, missing one but having gained their young companion, was undoubtedly the will of the force.

---

Debris flies up around you and you dodge around the corner to avoid it. One building over you see Hunter, Echo, and Wrecker holding ground with their blasters raised. At least Tech and Omega are safe back in the Marauder, getting it ready.

“I’m not leaving him behind again!” Hunter yells back.

You run over to them, ducking, weaving, and deflecting as you go. “You think I want to?!” No, you would give anything to have him back again. “We don’t have a choice, Hunter!”

When you slide next to them, you use the force to push the squad of clones closing in on you away. They’ll be up again soon, but you’ve bought a little time.

“We came here to get him, so that’s what we’ll do,” Echo insists when you were in earshot.

You shake your head and frown. “We’ll have another chance, but this isn’t it.”

You know exactly what this mission is for them. Just as they know what it is for you. His name has barely been spoken by anyone except Omega, but she doesn’t know, can’t understand what he means to his brothers, or to you.

“But-”

But the mission is failing, and your window for leaving is closing.

“You will retreat to the ship and take off.”

Tears prick in the corner of your closed eyes as you allow the force to flow through you and around the three men in front of you.

“What are you saying-”

But you cut Hunter off again. “You will retreat to the ship and take off.”

You push more, find the cracks in their shields and dig into them mercilessly. What kind of a general are you, to manipulate your men like this?

“We… we will… no!”

“You will retreat to the ship and take off!”

Nothing is stronger in this moment than your will for your men to live, and you’re forcing that upon them. You feel sick.

“Stop,” someone’s voice cracks.

You feel tears running down your face and your teeth clench from the power you’re having to use to put all three of them under your force suggestion. Even more so from the pain you’re putting them through. What kind of a Jedi are you? What kind of a friend are you?

“You will retreat to the ship and take off,” you forced out around the lump in your throat.

“We will retreat to the ship… and take off.”

You flinch at his complacent tone. There’s nothing you can do to stop shaking. You’re no better than the Kaminoans using the chips to force orders on the other clones.

They run ahead to the ship and you lag behind. The least you could do was make sure they get back to the ship safely while you hold off the clones that were once again closing in. You feel a thrum of warning in the force, but you don’t react in time before a blaster bolt slams into your hip and you cry out. You fall to the ground, lightsaber bouncing out of your hand with the impact. You lose sight of it. The hail of fire you expect next doesn’t come so you drag yourself to hide behind the closest wall. The pain is almost unbearable, and releasing what you could into the force barely let you focus past it.

Gravel crunches behind you and you flop onto your back with a groan. The sun is blocked out by a dark figure, and dulled as it was you, recognize Crosshair’s force signature anywhere. You knew it as well as your own, after all.

Past his helmet, which turns to watch a dark speck in the sky, you see the Havoc Marauder escape into the atmosphere.

He crouches down next to you, elbows resting on his knees, DC-17 held casually in his hand.

“Poor little Jedi, did they abandon you too?”

His voice holds no teasing lit to it, nor the warmth you know he reserves only for you. Now it’s cold, calculating, and spiteful.

“Crosshair,” you whisper softly.

“Tell me where they’re going, scum.”

“I don’t know.”

He tilts his head. “That’s a lie,” he scoffs. “You plan too far ahead for that, general.”

You try to shift but the pain in your hip made you keen. “We both know I’m more than a general to you.”

“You’re nothing to me,” he hisses, shaking his head. “Now tell me what I want to know.”

You can’t help but to smile at him, though it feels more like a grimace. “That’s a lie,” you parrot back to him. “We’re bonded, Cross, nothing can change that.” You reach out with what little control you still have over the force and brush against that bond. It’s so faint. What are they doing to him that he’s blocking you so much? You barely manage to sit up, and when you do there’s a blaster to your forehead.

“Last chance,” he growls.

“You know I was never going to give them up, my love.” It’s hardly out of your mouth before he pins you to the ground by your throat and digs his fingers into your blaster wound. You scream, tears running down your face as you thrash in his hold.

“I’m not your anything!”

“You’re everything to me!” You whimper. “I told you I would love you until the day I die, ner ram’ser. Even if that’s today, I plan on keeping that promise.”

He stands up and points his blaster at you again while you clutch at your side.

The force swirls one last time around you, a comfort in knowing it will always be there despite what is about to happen. “I forgive you, Crosshair.”

A pause.

“I believe you.”

#prior writes #star wars #clone wars #the bad batch #bad batch #crosshair x reader #crosshair x gn!reader #crosshair x jedi!reader #imperial!crosshair #gn!reader #jedi!reader #order 66 #post order 66 #hurt fic #angst #character death #im so sorry #writing #fanfic

[akatsukinojutsu]

gods of the mortal world -- uchiha madara / pain

req: @madaras-tiny-diamond​ :  Soo for the request.. ahem.. i think ill go with one of my favorites (took sometime to decide:)) ) I'll request a threesome with these two Gods-literally never seen a fic or Hcs with this on tumblr

You find yourself between two gods -- Madara and Pain (an alternate timeline, heh)

warnings: NSFW content below as well as non-con elements!

You panted heavily as you ran through the battlefield. Around you were an indescribable amount of dead bodies of the shinobi that attempted to fight off their opponents. Panic and adrenaline ran heavily through your veins. It wasn’t until you were able to be alone on an overlooking rock to the battlefield that you were able to get a chance to calm down.

Your body collapsed under you and your chest heaved heavily as you tried to calm your breathing. Deep breath in through the nose and deep out through the mouth.

Your eyes clenched tightly and you were startled by the sounds of feet pounding onto the ground near you. “[Y/N], you did well.” the voice was from a familiar male. Behind you were the two gods among men, Uchiha Madara and Pain. Madara was the one who spoke, his arms were crossed and his lips were in a smirk. You didn’t reply. Pain took a step toward you, “We’re pleased with your willingness to give up your comrades for our plan.” He stopped before you before taking a knee. His hand pushed some messy strands from your face, his painted fingers twisted some of it in his fingers.

 Guilt washed over you now as you recalled all the people you sacrificed just to get a taste of the power that Pain and Madara had.

“She feels guilty,” Madara said as he too approached you. His stature shadowed over you and your [e/c] eyes shook as they locked on with Madara’s dark ones.

“Why don’t we show her our appreciation, Pain? [Y/N] doesn’t deserve to feel any guilt over any of this,” he knelt down on the opposite side of you, his fingers also pushing more of your hair away. His face leaned in close and with his hot breath wafting onto your sweat stained skin, “She did only what is natural...”

It took not much time for you to realize what they had in plan. When you tried to push yourself up from the ground, Pain pushed you back down. He took your hand and brushed his lips against your skin. Pain’s lips made their way all the way up your arm and to your throat. It wasn’t long until Pain’s hands made their way to your chest and tightly clenching your clothing in his fists.

Pain didn’t have to use much strength to remove your shirt as it was tattered from the battle. Madara decided to step in and made quick work of your shoes and pants.

“Your body is finely crafted,” Madara commented as his hands roamed your skin. Your mouth opened to protest but nothing came out -- you were fully under their control. “I don’t even need to use my Sharingan,” Madara snorted lightly.

“You want this power, don’t you?” Pain asked as he removed himself from you and stood up. Your eyes examined his Rinnegan eyes and it was as if your mouth was about to water when thinking about what you could do with that dojutsu. All you could manage to say was a stuttered, “Y-Yes.”

Pain unbuttoned his cloak and dropped it to the ground. His bare chest was exposed and the moonlight from above glinted off of his skin, accenting his muscled façade. This prompted Madara to remove his armor and clothing, then nearly pushing Pain aside to present himself to you first. Madara dropped his pants to expose his already hard member. He took his erection into his hand and proceeded to pump it, his eyes closed as he imagined the things he was going to do to you.

Madara dropped down to your side, grabbed your hand and placed it on his cock. “Pump it.” he demanded but you hesitated, “I-I don’t know how.” Your confession irritated him and in response, he grabbed your chin roughly, “Are you stupid? A stupid virgin?” he spat. Your lips parted to defend yourself but Madara pressed his mouth onto yours. His tongue roughly explored the inside of your cavity. As he kissed you, his hand grabbed yours and put it over his member; then, proceeded to guide you as to how to jerk him off.

Meanwhile, Pain exposed himself fully and began to make his way to your clit. The cool metal of his tongue piercing sent ripples through your body. Being a virgin, you only could make yourself feel good. Nights of laying in bed with your fingers buried inside of yourself was as far as you went. So, the sensation of Pain’s tongue being buried deep inside of your cunt was a foreign feeling.

Your thighs began to shake as your body felt an overload of stimulation. The inside of your mouth was being conquered by Madara’s tongue, your hand was pumping his cock, and Pain was furiously eating you out. “I-I,” you stammered, “I can’t do this. Pl-Please stop,” you beg through brief gasps between Madara’s aggressive kissing.

Madara pulled away, a long string of spit stretched from your detached mouths. Your face was red and wet, your mouth gasped as air finally made its way to your lungs properly. Madara told Pain to stop but when he didn’t, Madara forcefully grabbed you from the ground and slammed you down onto his erect cock.

 Pain growled in anger at Madara’s actions, “I wasn’t finished,” he hissed as he wiped his mouth. In the meantime, you shrieked in a mixture of pain and ecstasy. Your pussy stretched around his larger than average cock. He watched your face and ignored Pain’s words. “Put her on the ground,��� Pain insisted and Madara complied.

You were now on your back and Madara was beginning to push himself in and out of your virgin cunt. Your eyes were wet with tears and your mouth croaked broken moans. Pain got onto his knees and put his fingers into your mouth. His fingertips traversed over your teeth and hooked under your upper lip. He grabbed his cock, which was a decent size, and placed the tip of it into your mouth. Just the warm sensation from your body caused him to moan in pleasure, his eyes closed and he pressed it in further down.

You laid between the two gods of the shinobi world, nearly helpless. Madara gained intensity of his thrusts as you adjusted to his girth. He praised the tightness of your cunt as he drilled deeper and harder. Responses from you were mostly unintelligible as again, the intense waves of pain and pleasure overwhelmed your body as well as your mind. Pain picked up the speed of his cock in your mouth. Gags and gasps erupted from your throat. With his free hand, Pain moved it to your throat and watched as your face grew more and more red with the intensity. 

“Switch,” Pain spoke. Madara still was more focused on his own pleasure and ramming his cock into you. Pain repeated himself between his huffs and thrusts. Madara ignored him again. This of course angered the Akatsuki leader; so, he summoned a black receiver and proceeded to plunge it into Madara’s shoulder blade.

You screamed in terror as a splash of blood sprayed across your face. Madara let out a chuckle and pulled the rod out, then threw it onto the ground. “I suppose,” he removed his cock from your aching and bruised cunt. Before he pulled away completely, he placed his tongue on the side of your face and took a long lick of his maroon liquid. The taste of his blood reminded of him that this was truly his body.

“On your hands and knees,” Pain instructed. You pondered if this would be a time to get away but then the reality of it all dawned on you. There was no way this was going to be over on your own terms.

So, you complied. You pushed yourself from the ground and your body wobbled beneath you. The sensory overload and the sexual barrage that you received caused your body to weaken more and more. So, just the act of moving yourself to the position you were asked of felt heavy and difficult.

Once you were positioned as asked, Pain raised his hand and gave a hard slap to your ass cheek. You yelped and Pain admired the bright red palm print that was now welting on your soft skin. His palms roughly grabbed and tugged at your cheeks, his fingers rubbing between your cheeks and down to your slit. He could feel just how wet your were from Madara and insisted that he would make you cum.

“You’ll cum only for a god,” he hummed before slamming his hips into you. Your body shuddered and a loud moan escaped. “Just like that,” he cooed. Pain took your hair into his fist and yanked back. The sounds of his balls slapping against your skinned echoed through the empty air.

The idea of Pain making you moan louder than he did annoyed Madara. So, he decided to fuck your mouth better. He grabbed both sides of your head and shoved his cock deeply in. Your eyes welled with tears because the length of Madara’s cock was quite far down your throat. 

You were dominated once again between the two gods and you could feel your climax coming. Your eyes clenched shut and your legs shook harder than previously. “Cum for me,” Pain moaned out as he quickened his pace and as did Madara. “If you want this power, you will cum when I allow it,” he added. Your brows furrowed and fingers dug into the ground. It was then that you released your orgasm. Pain could feel your body clench around him and become soaked. A smile grew on his lips as he rode out his own, he didn’t bother pulling out. You could feel the warmth of his cum inside and with a few more pumps -- Pain was finished but remained inside until Madara was finished.

Madara harshly grabbed your hair and used your mouth as a fuckhole. He growled and tightened his grip as his orgasm arrived. His cum was hot and it was plentiful. You couldn’t push it out of your mouth and was forced to take it all. Madara sighed loudly and pulled out.

The two men then stood over your collapsed body. Your chest heaved heavily just like it did before this whole thing began. “Now, let us teach your true power.”

#naruto imagines #madara uchiha imagines #pain imagines #pain naruto imagines #pain nagato imagines #madara uchiha x reader #pain x reader #pain nagato x reader #madara x reader #naruto #madara uchiha #pain naruto #pein #pain nagato

[mjvnivsbrvtvs]

hi! so we have established at this point that you have A Lot Of thoughts about antony and brutus. but how does caesar (julius, not the little bitch octavian) play into that? bc like. my knowledge and impression of them is very limited and mainly constructed from watching hbo rome and idk. i think it'd be fun to throw caesar in the mix. love all the art and writing on your blog btw! have a nice day.

Hey, okay! So this used to be over 30 pages long (Machiavelli and Caligula got involved and that's when things got out of hand), but through the power of friendship and two late night writing dates fueled by coffee, I’ve cut it way down to under 10. Many thanks to the people who listened to me ramble about it at length, and also to a dear friend for helping me cut this down to under ten pages!

Also, thank you! I'm glad you enjoy the stuff I make! It makes me very happy to hear that!

And quickly, a Disclaimer: I’m not an academic, I’m not a classicist, I’m not a historian, and I spend a lot of time very stressed out that I’ve tricked people into thinking I’m someone who has any kind of merit in this area. It's probably best to treat this as an abstract character analysis!

On the other hand, I love talking about dead men, so, with enthusiasm, here we go!

For this, I’m going to cut Shakespeare and HBO Rome out of the framework and focus more on a historical spin.

Caesar is a combination of a manipulator and a catalyst. A Bad Omen. The remaining wound that’s poisoning Rome.

Cassius gets a lot of the blame for Brutus’ turn to assassination, but it overlooks that Brutus was already inclined towards political ambition, as were most men involved in the political landscape of the time.

Furthermore, although Sulla had actually raised the number of praetorships available from six to eight, there were still only two consulships available. There was always the chance that death or disgrace might remove some of the competition and hence ease the bottleneck. But, otherwise, it was at the top of the ladder that the competition was particularly fierce: whereas in previous years one in three praetors would have gone on to become consul, from the 80s BC onwards the chances were one in four. For the senators who had made it this far, it mattered that they should try to achieve their consulship in the earliest year allowed to them by law. To fail in this goal once was humiliating; to fail at the polls twice would be deemed a signal disgrace for a man like Brutus.

Kathryn Tempest, Brutus the Noble Conspirator

The way Caesar offered Brutus political power the way that he did, and Brutus accepting it, locked them into the assassination outcome.

Here is a man who’s built his entire image around honor and liberty and virtu, around being a staunch defender of morals and the republic

In these heated circumstances, Brutus composed a bitter tract On the Dictatorship of Pompey (De Dictatura Pompei), in which he staunchly opposed the idea of giving Pompey such a position of power. ‘It is better to rule no one than to be another man’s slave’, runs one of the only snippets of this composition to survive today: ‘for one can live honourably without power’, Brutus explained, ‘but to live as a slave is impossible’. In other words, Brutus believed it would be better for the Senate to have no imperial power at all than to have imperium and be subject to Pompey’s whim.

Kathryn Tempest, Brutus the Noble Conspirator

and you give him political advancement, but without the honor needed for this advancement to mean anything?

At the same time, however, Brutus had gained his position via extremely un-republican means: appointment by a dictator rather than election by the people. As the name of the famous career path, the cursus honorum, suggests, political office was perceived as an honour at Rome. But it was one which had to be bestowed by the populus Romanus in recognition of a man’s dignitas.69 In other words, a man’s ‘worth’ or ‘standing’ was only really demonstrated by his prior services to the state and his moral qualities, and that was what was needed to gain public recognition. Brutus had got it wrong. As Cicero not too subtly reminded him in the treatise he dedicated to Brutus: ‘Honour is the reward for virtue in the considered opinion of the citizenry.’ But the man who gains power (imperium) by some other circumstance, or even against the will of the people, he continues, ‘has laid his hands only on the title of honour, but it is not real honour’.70

Brutus may have secured political office, then, but he had not done so honourably; nor had he acted in a manner that would earn him a reputation for virtue or everlasting fame.

Kathryn Tempest, Brutus the Noble Conspirator

Brutus in the image that he fashioned for himself was not compatible with the way Caesar was setting him up to be a political successor, and there was really never going to be any other outcome than the one that happened.

The Brutus of Shakespeare and Plutarch’s greatest tragedy was that he was pushed into something he wouldn’t have done otherwise. The Brutus of history’s greatest tragedy was accepting Caesar’s forgiveness after the Caesar-Pompey conflict, and then selling out for political ambition, because Caesar's forgiveness is not benevolent.

Rather than have his enemies killed, he offered them mercy or clemency -- clementia in Latin. As Caesar wrote to his advisors, “Let this be our new method of conquering -- to fortify ourselves by mercy and generosity.” Caesar pardoned most of his enemies and forbore confiscating their property. He even promoted some of them to high public office.

This policy won him praise from no less a figure than Marcus Tullius Cicero, who described him in a letter to Aulus Caecina as “mild and merciful by nature.” But Caecina knew a thing or two about dictators, since he’d had to publish a flattering book about Caesar in order to win his pardon after having opposed him in the civil war. Caecina and other beneficiaries of Caesar’s unusual clemency took it in a far more ambivalent way. To begin with, most of them were, like Caesar, Roman nobles. Theirs was a culture of honor and status; asking a peer for a pardon was a serious humiliation. So Caesar’s “very power of granting favors weighed heavily on free people,” as Florus, a historian and panegyrist of Rome, wrote about two centuries after the dictator’s death. One prominent noble, in fact, ostentatiously refused Caesar’s clemency. Marcius Porcius Cato, also known as Cato the Younger, was a determined opponent of populist politics and Caesar’s most bitter foe. They had clashed years earlier over Caesar’s desire to show mercy to the Catiline conspirators; Cato argued vigorously for capital punishment and convinced the Senate to execute them. Now he preferred death to Caesar’s pardon. “I am unwilling to be under obligations to the tyrant for his illegal acts,” Cato said; he told his son, "I, who have been brought up in freedom, with the right of free speech, cannot in my old age change and learn slavery instead.

-Barry Strauss, Caesar and the Dangers of Forgiveness

something else that's a fun adjacent to the topic that's fun to think about:

The link between ‘sparing’ and ‘handing over’ is common in the ancient world.763 Paul also uses παραδίδωμι again, denoting ‘hand over, give up a person’ (Bauer et al. 2000:762).764 The verb παραδίδωμι especially occurs in connection with war (Eschner 2010b:197; Gaventa 2011:272).765 However, in Romans 8:32, Paul uses παραδίδωμι to focus on a court image (Eschner 2010b:201).766 Christina Eschner (2010b:197) convincingly argues that Paul’s use of παραδίδωμι refers to the ‘Hingabeformulierungen’ as the combination of the personal object of the handing over of a person in the violence of another person, especially the handing over of a person to an enemy.767 Moreover, Eschner (2009:676) convincingly argues that Isaiah 53 is not the pre-tradition for Romans 8:32.

Annette Potgieter, Contested Body: Metaphors of dominion in Romans 5-8

Along with the internal conflict of Pompey, the murderer of Brutus’ father, and Caesar, the figurehead for everything that goes against what Brutus stands for, Brutus accepting Caesar’s forgiveness isn’t an act of benevolence, regardless of Caesar’s intentions.

On wards, Caesar owns Brutus. Caesar benefits from having Brutus as his own, he inherits Brutus’ reputation, he inherits a better PR image in the eyes of the Roman people. On wards, nothing Brutus does is without the ugly stain of Caesar. His career is no longer his own, his life is no longer fully his own, his legacy is no longer entirely his. Brutus becomes a man divided.

And it’s not like it was an internal struggle, it was an entire spectacle. Hypocrisy is theatrical. Call yourself a man of honor and then you sell out? The people of Rome will remember that, and they’re going to make sure you know it.

After this certain men at the elections proposed for consuls the tribunes previously mentioned, and they not only privately approached Marcus Brutus and such other persons as were proud-spirited and attempted to persuade them, but also tried to incite them to action publicly. 12 1 Making the most of his having the same name as the great Brutus who overthrew the Tarquins, they scattered broadcast many pamphlets, declaring that he was not truly that man's descendant; for the older Brutus had put to death both his sons, the only ones he had, when they were mere lads, and left no offspring whatever. 2 Nevertheless, the majority pretended to accept such a relationship, in order that Brutus, as a kinsman of that famous man, might be induced to perform deeds as great. They kept continually calling upon him, shouting out "Brutus, Brutus!" and adding further "We need a Brutus." 3 Finally on the statue of the early Brutus they wrote "Would that thou wert living!" and upon the tribunal of the living Brutus (for he was praetor at the time and this is the name given to the seat on which the praetor sits in judgment) "Brutus, thou sleepest," and "Thou art not Brutus."

Cassius Dio

Brutus knew. Cassius knew. Caesar knew. You can’t escape your legacy when you’re the one who stamped it on coins.

Caesar turned Brutus into the dagger that would cut, and Brutus himself isn’t free from this injury. It’s a mutual betrayal, a mutual dooming.

By this time Caesar found himself being attacked from every side, and as he glanced around to see if he could force a way through his attackers, he saw Brutus closing in upon him with his dagger drawn. At this he let go of Casca’s hand which he had seized, muffled up his head in his robe, and yielded up his body to his murderers’ blows. Then the conspirators flung themselves upon him with such a frenzy of violence, as they hacked away with their daggers, that they even wounded one another. Brutus received a stab in the hand as he tried to play his part in the slaughter, and every one of them was drenched in blood.

Plutarch

For Antony, Caesar is a bad sign.

Brutus and Antony are fucked over by the generation they were born in, etc etc the cannibalization of Rome on itself, the Third Servile War was the match to the gasoline already on the streets of Rome, the last generation of Romans etc etc etc. They are counterparts to each other, displaced representatives of a time already gone by the time they were alive.

Rome spends its years in a state of civil war after civil war, political upheaval, and death. Neither Brutus or Antony will ever really know stability, as instability is hallmark of the times. Both of them are at something of a disadvantage, although Brutus has what Antony does not, and what Brutus has is what let’s him create his own career. Until Caesar, Brutus is owned by no one.

This is not the case for Antony.

You can track Antony’s life by who he’s attached to. Very rarely is he ever truly a man unto himself, there is always someone nearby.

In his youth, it is said, Antony gave promise of a brilliant future, but then he became a close friend of Curio and this association seems to have fallen like a blight upon his career. Curio was a man who had become wholly enslaved to the demands of pleasure, and in order to make Antony more pliable to his will, he plunged him into a life of drinking bouts, love-affairs, and reckless spending. The consequence was that Antony quickly ran up debts of an enormous size for so young a man, the sum involved being two hundred and fifty talents. Curio provided security for the whole of this amount, but his father heard of it and forbade Antony his house. Antony then attached himself for a short while to Clodius, the most notorious of all the demagogues of his time for his lawlessness and loose-living, and took part in the campaigns of violence which at that time were throwing political affairs at Rome into chaos.

Plutarch

(although, in contrast to Brutus, we rarely lose sight of Antony. As a person, we can see him with a kind of clarity, if one looks a little bit past the Augustan propaganda. He is, at all times, human.)

Antony being figuratively or literally attached to a person starts early, and continues politically. While Brutus has enough privilege to brute force his way into politics despite Cicero’s lamentation of a promising life being thrown off course, Antony will instead follow a different career path that echoes in his personal life and defines his relationships.

Whereas some young men often attached or indebted themselves to a patron or a military leader at the beginning of their political lives,

Kathryn Tempest, Brutus the Noble Conspirator

+

3. During his stay in Greece he was invited by Gabinius, a man of consular rank, to accompany the Roman force which was about to sail for Syria. Antony declined to join him in a private capacity, but when he was offered the command of the cavalry he agreed to serve in the campaign.

Plutarch

To take it a step further, it even defines how he’s perceived today looking back: it’s never just Antony, it’s always Antony and---

It can be read as someone being taken advantage of, in places, survival in others, especially in Antony's early life. Other times, it appears like Antony himself is the one who manipulates things to his favor, casting aside people and realigning himself back to an advantage.

or when he saw an opportunity for faster advancement, he was willing to place the blame on a convenient scapegoat or to disregard previous loyalties, however important they had been. His desertion of Fulvia's memory in 40, and, much later, of Lepidus, Sextus Pompey, and Octavia, produced significant political gains. This characteristic, which Caesar discovered to his cost in 47, gives the sharp edge to Antony's personality which Syme's portrait lacks, especially when he attributes Antony's actions to a 'sentiment of loyalty' or describes him as a 'frank and chivalrous soldier'. In this context, one wonders what became of Fadia.19

Kathryn E Welch , Antony, Fulvia, and the Ghost of Clodius in 47 B.C.

Caesar inherits Antony, and like Brutus, locks him in for a doomed ending.

The way Caesar writes about Antony smacks of someone viewing another person as something more akin to a dog, and it carries over until it’s bitter conclusion.

Caesar benefits from Antony immensely. The people love Antony, the military loves Antony. He’s charming, he’s self aware, he’s good at what he does. Above all of that, he has political ambitions of a similar passion as Brutus.

Antony drew some political benefit from his genial personality. Even Cicero, who from at least 49 did not like him,15 was prepared to regard some of his earlier misdemeanours as harmless.16 Bluff good humour, moderate intelligence, at least a passing interest in literature, and an ability to be the life and soul of a social gathering all contributed to make him a charming companion and to bind many important people to him. He had a lieutenant's ability to follow orders and a willingness to listen to advice, even (one might say especially) from intelligent women.17 These attributes made Antony able to handle some situations very well."1

There was a more important side to his personality, however, which contributed to his political survival. Antony was ruthless in his quest for pre-eminence

Kathryn E Welch , Antony, Fulvia, and the Ghost of Clodius in 477 B.C.

None of this matters, because after all Antony does for Caesar

Plutarch's comment that Curio brought Antony into Caesar's camp is surely mistaken.59 Anthony had been serving as Caesar's officer from perhaps as early as 53, after his return from Syria.60 He is described as legatus in late 52,61 and was later well known as Caesar's quaestor.62 It is more likely that the reverse of the statement is true, that Antony assisted in bringing Curio over to Caesar. If this were so, then he performed a signal service for Caesar, for gaining Curio meant attaching Fulvia, who provided direct access to the Clodian clientela in the city. Such valuable political connections served to increase Antony's standing with Caesar, and to set him apart from other officers in his army.63

Kathryn E Welch , Antony, Fulvia, and the Ghost of Clodius in 477 B.C.

Caesar still, for whatever reasons, fucks over Antony spectacularly with the will. Loyalty is repaid with dismissal, and it will bury the Republic for good.

It’s not enough for Caesar to screw him over just once, it becomes generational and ugly. Caesar lives on through Octavian: it becomes Octavian’s brand, his motif, propaganda wielded like a knife. Octavian, thanks to Caesar, will bring Antony to his bitter conclusion

And for my "bitter" conclusion, I’ll sign off by saying that there are actual scholars on Antony who are more well versed than I am who can go into depth about the Caesar-Octavian-Antony dynamic (and how it played out with Caligula) better than I can, and scholarship on Brutus consists mostly of looking at an outline of a man and trying to guess what the inside was like.

At the end of the day, Caesar was the instigator, active manipulator, and catalyst for the final act of the Republic.

I hope that this was at least entertaining to read!

#i cut out A Lot and its thanks to the patience of Friends that i got it down to the length that it is #like i cannot stress enough that i worked machiavelli into this and started dissecting the whole #brutus-cassius conflict with the framework that it was orchestrated by caesar #typically tho i tend to treat caesar as a symbolic device. a representation of something Very Wrong #this is a tag for asks

[deja-you]

âmes soeurs | part two

m. de lafayette x reader

Summary: Lafayette and Y/n Howe were childhood best friends. It’s been years, but somehow they’ve both ended up in revolutionary America. On different sides of the war.

masterlist | part one

BOOM!

A gasp escaped Y/n’s lips. Did she really just shoot someone? And just because he wore a blue coat instead of a red one? What was he guilty of, fighting for freedom? The flintlock pistol in Y/n’s hand billowed smoke still and felt hot to the touch. Her shaking hands dropped the pistol on the forest floor, but they continued to grip the sword she held. 

Looking up at the rebel in front of her, Y/n saw that he was still standing. Had she missed? He was only a few feet away from her and the flintlock was known for being incredibly accurate. Y/n reasoned that she couldn’t have missed her mark, and that the rebel would collapse at any second. But he didn’t.

The soldier whipped his head around to face her, looking more surprised than pained. He patted down his torso as if he were looking for a gunshot wound, but he never found one. He stared at Y/n’s silhouette in bewilderment, bristling when he saw the sword at her side glimmer in the moonlight. The soldier muttered some kind of disgruntled word and drew his own sword. He advanced toward Y/n, and she began to panic.

Y/n took a few steps back, but quickly found her back pressed to a tree. Going backwards wasn’t an option at this point, and the soldier was gaining ground quickly. Adjusting her grip on her sword, Y/n held it up to her opponent, and soon there was a clash of metal between the two.

This soldier was clearly a better swordsman than Y/n. In fact, it had been years since she had even held a sword. As she did her best to parry his attacks, the soldier came back again and again. His hits weren’t brutally strong, but they were fast and in just the right places, proving further that he must’ve been an experienced swordsman. 

With sweat running down her neck, Y/n did her best to hold her sword tighter when the soldier delivered a powerful blow. She didn’t have much time to recover when he attacked again. This time, the soldier was successful in disarming Y/n and knocking her to the ground. The forest beneath her hands, Y/n scrambled backwards. She wouldn’t be able to outrun him. He raised his sword, and Y/n was only left thinking this is the end. The sound of metal cutting through air could be heard, and then --

Nothing?

Y/n was expecting to hear the sound of his sword cutting through flesh. At the very least, a sharp pain in her side. There was nothing. Was she dead? Is this what dying was like? Just quick and painless? No, Y/n could still feel the leaves and dirt beneath her and the chill of the evening breeze in her hair. She couldn’t be dead. 

Daring to open her eyes, Y/n saw that the soldier seemed just as confused as she did. Upon noticing that she had not been effected, the soldier regained his purpose. He raised his sword again. Y/n flinched. And again, there was nothing?

“Why can’t I kill you?” Asked the soldier. He wasn’t angry, more confused.

“I... I don’t know,” Y/n replied honestly.

He cocked his head to the side and pointed his sword at Y/n once more. “Who are you?”

Not seeing the point in lying, and being too exhausted to continue fighting, Y/n raised her hands in surrender and slowly removed the hood of her cloak.

“I’m Y/n Howe.”

The soldier immediately lowered his weapon and took a step back from her. 

“Y/n?”

“Do I know you?”

Stepping into the clearing, moonlight lit up the soldiers face. He was taller than she had last saw him, he looked much older, too, but Y/n would have been able to recognize those eyes anywhere. Even after all these years, she could have never forgotten them. And Lord knows she had tried. 

“Lafayette!” She gasped. “Is it... is it really you?”

Now sure that this was Y/n, Lafayette dropped the sword in his hand like it burned him. It clattered to the ground, and Lafayette couldn’t believe that he had nearly killed Y/n a few moments ago. He had really tried his best...

“I never thought I’d see you again,” he admitted.

“Disappointed?”

Lafayette laughed. Oh, how she missed the sound of his laugh. “The opposite. When I heard you and your mother had accompanied General Howe to the colonies, I was hoping I’d get to see you again. But then I heard he was leaving back to England, and well...”

“You thought you’d never see me,” Y/n finished for him.

“Yes,” he nodded, “I thought I’d never see you. But I’m so glad I did.”

“I’m glad to see you, too. Although, it could be under better circumstances.” 

There it was. The realization of where they were and who they were. She was only here because she was General Howe’s daughter. Y/n couldn’t overlook the continental uniform Lafayette was proudly wearing. And there was also the fact that Y/n had tried to kill him moments earlier.

“Did you...” Lafayette asked incredulously. “Did you try to shoot me? Did you really try to kill me?”

Y/n tensed. “You tried to kill me, too! And you nearly did!”

“Yeah, because someone had followed me from a British party and attempted to shoot me! It was self defense.”

“How did we end up on different sides of this war? We were best friends.”

Lafayette immediately felt guilty upon hearing Y/n’s defeated tone. They really had been best friends. Even if it was all years ago, he had failed to meet anyone like Y/n. He didn’t even want to. Lafayette sighed and tentatively sat next to her on the forest ground.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I always wanted to seek glory on the battlefield, you knew that. Fighting for the Americans seemed right. If they can win independence from a tyrant, so can France, and every other nation.”

“Tyrant? That’s my king you’re talking about.”

“Y/n, you’ve always been the smart one. You must see how King George treats the colonists is unfair. Everyone deserves equal--”

“—you don’t need to lecture me about what is fair and what isn’t. I read Jefferson’s declaration, and I know all about his philosophy on ‘unalienable rights.’ I don’t really buy into it,” Y/n said firmly.

Lafayette was surprised. “You don’t? I thought... I thought this would be something you support.”

“It’s not that I don’t support equality and justice. It’s that I don’t believe these revolutionaries truly believe in equality and justice.”

“What do you mean?”

“They’re selfish. The men who wrote the declaration? Most of them are wealthy slaveholders. Do you understand how terrible it is that they talk about freedom and liberty, all while they buy and sell other human beings? That’s not what equality is. And if they can’t even get that right, what else are they wrong about?”

“Those men—”

“And that’s the second thing! They’re all men. They don’t care about equal representation, they just care about representation for themselves. Lafayette, you’re right, I have always been the smart one. I have spent hours reading and studying while you would go out for long rides on your horse. I’ve dedicated more time than most men to my education, but that still wouldn’t matter. I couldn’t get a job, I couldn’t get a position in the legislature, I couldn’t vote. All this on the account that I was born a woman. And you revolutionaries? You don’t care about anyone but yourself.”

Y/n was out of breath at this point. Years of pent up anger had finally been unleashed upon Lafayette. She almost felt bad. This wasn’t Lafayette’s fault, it really wasn’t. But it was cruel to champion equality and freedom when you didn’t really believe in it. 

“I’m sorry,” Lafayette said. “You’re right. We revolutionaries are hypocritical.”

“Hypocritical? Your english has gotten much better,” she muttered. 

“The men who wrote the declaration are wrong to own slaves and exclude women. I know that. I will dedicate the rest of my life to fixing that wrong. But right now? Right now I have the chance to fight the injustice that is the British government. It’s a revolution, Y/n. And if we succeed, we’re going to be changing the world for the better. This war is just a start. But everything needs a start.”

He was right. Y/n knew he was right. God, she hated it when he was right. 

“Maybe I was being too harsh,” Y/n conceded.

Lafayette shook his head. “No, it’s good. I love that you hold me accountable. But I also believe this revolution is worth supporting.”

“I know.” She said it so quietly he almost didn’t hear her. “I know you’re right, and you know why I can’t support this revolution.”

Lafayette did know why. Y/n never had much of a choice, and she was always loyal to those she loved. He couldn’t even imagine being in her shoes.

“Can we just not talk about this anymore? Can you just hold me like you used to? I just want what we used to have, even if it’s just for a little while,” Y/n said softly.

She didn’t have to ask twice, Lafayette’s arms wrapped around her and pulled her to his chest. 

Lafayette and Y/n were both so deeply flawed. It was all they knew how to be. But this moment they shared together? It could only be described as perfect.

How good did it feel to be in his arms again? It had been so long. Being without him was like living in a barren field covered in snow. Y/n had been content with her life without him in it, but that was when she couldn’t remember what life was with him. It was golden sunbeams and turquoise streams. It was stolen kisses on hot summer nights. It was music and flowers and everything wonderful. Life with Lafayette was all that and more. 

The rain started coming down in droves. Maybe it didn’t want her to have to fall alone.

tags: @ballerinafairyprincess @dannighost @ateliefloresdaprimavera

#hamilton x reader #hamilton #hamilton imagine #lafayette x reader #hamilton fanfiction #lafayette imagine #daveed diggs #marquis de lafayette #daveed diggs x reader #thomas jefferson x reader

[letstalkaboutshtufff]

Burning Secrets Obi Wan Kenobi x Padawan Reader Pt 1

Pairing: Obi Wan Kenobi x Padawan reader

Summary: reader gets injured on a mission and tries to hide it from her master.

Warnings: mild swearing, mention of injury, violence

A.n Hello my lovelies! I absolutely adore Obi Wan and couldn't help but write something about him after rewatching clone wars! Enjoy😊 part 2

*************************************************

You knew the danger that came with every republic mission. Not everyone always survived. And often times you made it out with more than a scratch. But that came along with the job.

Being a padawan meant that you were always put in dangerous situations. Along with your master Obi wan Kenobi. Most of the time things went relatively well. Your master would often bail you out of trouble when things got too sticky.

However this particular mission went a little different..

You were on the planet Saigon, defending against a large group of pirates who attempted to take the planet for themselves. Normally pirates were no match for the jedi forces however they had something they didnt before...the separatist army backing them as well as a new leader, Zoc tane.

Obi wan and you had split up, you took a decent sized squadron and managed to bomb their main camps while Obi Wan worked on freeing the enslaved citizens.

"Y/n, status report" the collected voice of your master broke through the chaos around you. You sliced your lightsaber through one of the battle droids as you brought your wrist up to your mouth.

"We bombed the camps, just finishing off these-" another droid ran up but you ducked under and swiped from behind, "-droids.."

"Very good, finish up quickly and meet me back at the slave camps, we could use the extra help"

"Alright be there as soon as I can" you shouted orders to the men and began fighting off the remaining droids.

"Alright men let's hurry to help the others!" You all jumped atop your speeders and made for the slave camps.

"Sir over there!" Pinks shouted suddenly, you followed the direction of the clones finger until you spotted the familiar face from the briefing this morning.

"Tane.."you growled. quickly you shouted for 2 of the men to follow you and the rest to go aid master kenobi.

"Sir are you sure thats a go-"

"If we let him leave this planet we may never get a chance like this again!" The cadet nodded and hurriedly followed orders.

You were quickly gaining on Tane, he shot some blasts with an arm bent back but you all dodged easily.

After a while of high speed chasing your comlink beeped.

"Y/n! Your men just told me you went after Tane! Don't be foolish, he is much stronger than you, get back here immedi-" with a click you shut off the com and focused on the battle. You could tell him it got messed up in the battle. You were not letting a chance like this slip away. And you were definitely planning to prove yourself by taking Tane down yourself. Just then the criminal threw a little ball backwards.

"BOMB!" you managed to veer right and dodge however pinks wasn't as lucky.

"Speedy, get him to a medical droid!" You shouted at the other clone, not slowing down your pursuit. Before speedy could even try to stop you, you were gone.

Tane eventually landed in front of a small space ship.

You hurriedly jumped off and force threw a giant rock in front of him, successfully blocking his space craft door.

He smirked and turned around. His tentacles moving eerily around him. He was built like master fisto, strong and swift.

"Well done little one, but what will you do now? Surely you aren't thinking of fighting me alone are you?"

You bit your lip, you had planned on at least having the boys with you but that quickly flew out the window. The logical part of you said that you shouldve turned back but the young fighter in you pushed you forward. Eager to prove yourself. You confidently lifted your chin and ignited your saber, "That's exactly what I plan to do"

He smiled even wider, "Well then trust me when I say it wont be much of a fight.." he drew his own weapons, double swords that glowed black. Ugh great, off brand sabers. How many kinds of weapons did he have anyway?!

"We'll see about that!" You sneered and charged forward.

******************************************

"Why must I always get stuck with the most stubborn padawans!" Kenobi shook his head. You were skilled yes, more than anakin had been at that age but you still had much to learn. And Tane was not an enemy to be taken lightly. He sighed with frustration and worry.

"Alright men, let's deal with this as quickly as possible!" He prayed that you would hold your own until he got there. Perhaps you had listened and were already on the way back? Yeah right..maybe in another universe..

**********************************************

The fight had proven to be more difficult than you previously imagined. You could practically hear obi wan tsking.

"I'm almost impressed padawan, your lasting much longer than any of my other opponents, but no matter, soon you'll be dead like the rest of them"

You tensed at his words, he was still relatively unharmed, you managed to place a searing scratch on his arm but that did little to weaken him. Ok new plan..if I can't beat him, I can at least keep him from escaping.

Quickly you force jumped over his head which at first confused him but he quickly realized what you were up to. He glared,

"Stupid little pest!" He jumped after you but you were quick to dodge and made sure to jab your saber wherever possible. When he got a little too close you managed to force push him off which gave you just enough time to jam your saber through the main engine.

You smirked knowing he wouldn't be leaving any time soon.

"Aghh" a burning sensation across your stomach brought your attention back to Tane.

You clutched your stomach and took a few steps back trying to regain your composure.

You tried force pushing him back but he was quicker and kicked you back sending another wave of pain through you.

Shit shit shit, you desperately tried to push yourself up as he walked menacingly towards you. His weapons crackling dangerously at his sides. You tried force calling your fallen saber but it was no use. You were too exausted.

"I must say I'm disappointed" he mocked walking closer.

You managed the best smirk you could through the pain.

"Disappointed? I did destroy your only exit off this planet did I not?"

His smile dropped into a low growl, "Yes.." he lifted the saber high above his head, "and you'll pay for it!"

You tried using the force but found yourself too weak. So this is how it ends...how embarrassing....

Shutting your eyes you resigned yourself to your fate.

Forgive me master

...................

No need for apologies just yet little one

Huh?

The smooth sound of your masters voice floated in your mind.

You snapped your eyes wide open. "Master!" You shouted in surprise.

"Sorry I'm late" he said in his usual playful tone.

"Aghhhh" Zane let out a grunt as Obi Wan pushed him backwards and began dueling. Zane was powerful you had to admit, however he was no match for your master and his years of experience and soon started to show signs of fatigue.

"You alright commander?" Rex came up and offered you a hand. Smiling you accepted and tried to hide the inevitable wince of pain.

You knew he would go straight to kenobi if you were injured in any way and you were determined to hide it as long as possible. It was highly likely that Obi wan would punish you for running into danger alone like that, an injury on top of that would make everything worse. He would probably bar you from missions for a long long long time. And the worst part was how disappointed he would be..

Shifting your robes closed you smiled reassuringly, "I'm fine, I'm assuming things went well on your end?"

He nodded, a look of pride crossing his face,"More than well I'd say, cleaned up those droids in record time" you laughed lightly then drew your attention to a now unconscious Tane.

Stepping close you watched as you master disabled his lightsaber, clipping it back on his belt. Sensing your presence he turned around and offered you a small smile. He scanned your form quickly, satisfied when he didn't notice anything out of place.

"Y/n, looks like I got here just in time" he crossed his arms smirking.

"Oh please, I had the situation completely under control"

He scoffed, "Under control? If that's what you call under control, I'd hate to see your definition of a bad situation"

"Oh hush" you rolled your eyes, " Everything worked out didn't it?"

He sighed shaking his head slightly,"Yes we may have won this time, but you were too reckless, what if I hadn't gotten here in time?" He said, his face a turning serious.

You avoid his gaze, you hated that scolding look he gave you.

"I know...I'm sorry.." you mumbled. With another shake he finally placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. "Well in any case, you did manage too thwart Tanes escape, for that I say well done" you immediately met his eyes with a beaming smile. He smirked as he couldn't help but feeling slightly proud of his student.

Finally some recognition!

"We can discuss your blantent disregard of my orders later.." he added seriously.

Ughhh whyyyyy

You hung your head down again as he led everyone back to the ship's.

The more you walked the more your injury throbbed. You almost cried in relief when the ships finally came into view. The first chance you got you snuck off into private quarters and assessed the damage.

A nasty dark and ugly wound decorated your stomach. It had blistered and was turning very unflattering shades. You gingerly applied some numbing cream. It was the only useful thing you found in the small med kit. All private quarters had a simple one, small bandages and low dose pain relievers, anything for something more serious was packed near the medical droid. For sure if you ventured there some clone would see you. Many were being treated themselves.

You sighed and debated on wrapping the wound. Wait are you supposed to wrap burns or let them breathe?? Crap you shouldve paid more attention during basic first aid.

You decided to let the wound breathe by changing into one of your training long sleeve crop tops. You swung on your cloak and made sure it covered everything.

Perfect, non restricting and Obi Wan will have no clue. Oh I better remember to be mindful of my thoughts, never know when he could be listening.

Satisfied you walked back out and headed towards the food units...

...........................................................................

The flight home wasn't as dreadful as you previously thought. Your master told you to get some rest which you gladly obeyed. Although it did little to soothe your aches. The cream worked in short bursts, soon you had used up all the supply. If only you could get some of the strong stuff from the med bay...you pondered for a moment but decided against it. Nope you wouldnt risk it. Obi wan had a talent for popping up out of nowhere. Especially so when you were up to something. Sighing you layed back down in the cot and closed your eyes.

******************************************

"Y/n"? Just how long do you plan to sleep?" Your eyes shot open at the sudden voice echoing around you. You squinted and sighed annoyingly when you realized it was just Obi wan.

"Ugh master, didn't you say I should go rest?" You flopped a pillow over your head and flipped sides.

Stupid move, your stomach burned at the sudden twist. You but your lip determined to conceal the pain.

"Rest yes? Hibernate no?" He chuckled softly and force shoved the pillow off of you. You glared up at him through your disheveled hair.

"In case you're unaware, we landed quite some time ago, you've been sleeping quite a long time, I actually came because I was worried you had passed out or something" he joked.

"!!" Even though he was teasing you felt a tinge of worry. You quickly sat up, and did your best to act like your stomach was not being roasted over an open fire at the moment. "I um must've been more tired than I realized" you lamely joked back. You could not believe you actually slept through most the entire trip.

He shook his head amused, "Well hurry up, the council is keen to hear how the mission went"

Oh good lord, anything but that. You felt fear rise in you. Standing for what may be hours in front of the council did not seem like the best treatment for you right now. What if you accidentally let your pain slip through the force and one of them senses it??

A million scenarios ran through your mind as the two of you walked towards the temple meeting room.

"Y/n?" Obi wan side eyed you slightly curious."Everything alright?" You didnt realize you had been so quiet.

You quickly plastered a smile on your face "Yup everythings fine, just dreading the long meeting ahead, I wonder if anyones actually died of boredom before" you joked lightly.

He rolled his eyes and soon the both of you were standing before all members of the jedi council. Heavens help me..

*************************

You had been right, the meeting had been long and boring and a million times worse because of the throbbing burning sensation, however you had held strong and no one seemed to notice anything was wrong.

You let out a sigh of relief when you finally exited. Knowing now you had a decent chance of sneaking some higher grade medical treatments without being spotted.

Just as you were about to make your escape your master called out from behind you.

Heavens when was I going to catch a break?!

Forcing a smile you turned slightly, "yes master?"

"I have some new techniques I want to teach you later, get something to eat and rest for awhile, then meet me in our usual training rooms." You nodded and turned back around heading to your room.

Great now you had to learn new moves while simultaneously hiding your worsening wound. Could this day get any better...

******************************************

You let out a sigh as you stood before the training doors. You had treated the wound and taken some pain pills. You felt much better however it was still very painful to the touch. You would try to avoid any hits but you knew that it was going to be a challenge.

You pressed the button opneing the sealed doors. Your master sat in the middle meditating. He smiled when he noticed your presence, "Ah Y/n, right on time" he stood up and grabbed two training sabers, tossing one to you, "Shall we?" He smirked getting into a fighting stance.

"Ready when you are.." you mirrored his actions swallowing the large lump of nerves.

You were only a half and hour in and you felt as though you had just fought a whole droid army using a stick.

You were sweating profusely and your mind had trouble focusing in order to predict your masters movements. Obi wan stepped back at some point holding his hand up as a signal to stop.

He eyed you with a look you were too exausted to decipher, "Y/n? Is something wrong? I figured with the ship and earlier you had had enough rest, but perhaps I'm missing something?" His voice was now laced with concern and confusion.

Shaking your head you mustered up your most confident tone, "I'm perfectly alright master, just getting used to these new techniques is all" you assured him.

Now that he was already suspicious, you had to be extra cautious. Your master was no idiot. If you slipped up, he would notice.

He swiped at his beard in thought, after a moment he relaxed, "Alright I'll take your word for it, now then shall we continue?" He lunged forward suddenly and you quickly blocked him. He swung again and again and you managed to block those as well.

He moved quickly behind you and you spun using the technique he taught you to block, well you tried at least.... Instead of meeting his weapon with your you either misjudged the distance or he was too quick because soon you found yourself on your back in a world of pain.

"You've gotten rusty my padawan" Obi Wan teased playfully above you. It was your lack of retort that made him eye you closely.

Suddenly all playfulness was gone as he took in your pained face and suddenly felt your burning pain through the force.

He was beside you on the floor in an instant, "y/n!? Are you alright?!" You had your eyes scrunched tight, your only thoughts on how you felt as if a saber stabbed through you. You couldn't even register him speaking.

Obi wan panicked slightly, had he truly hit you that hard? At first he thought you were faking in order to get the upper hand but the force didn't lie, you were in immense pain.

When you couldn't even answer his panic grew more. Carfelully he moved your clutching hand away and gently pulled apart your robe opening the middle.

You felt a rush of cool air and it soothed your pain slightly. You were still so out of hit however you felt a new...feeling in the force...

Was that fear?

Obi wans eyes widened in shock and horror as he took in the large discolored wound that plagued you. What?! How?!When?!? He found himself completely at a loss for words.

He placed a gentle hand on your cheek, "Y/n! Wake up! Tell me what's happened?!" He slapped lightly but you were barely there.

Sucking in a nervous breath he wasted no time in scooping you up into his arms. He felt a deep pang of worry when you let out a noise of distress at the movement.

In all his years Obi wan had never made it anywhere as fast as he did with you in his arms to the med bay.

His brows furrowed with worry and helplessness the entire time...

*************************************************

And that's part 1, stay tuned for part 2! Thanks for reading! Also please comment and tell me what you thought😚

#obi wan imagine #obi wan x y/n #obi wan series #obi wan x oc #obi wan x reader #injured #hurt #obi wan #x reader #fanfic #self insert #padawan #reader #burning #secrets #master #apprentice #ewan mcgregor #prequel #clone wars #obi wan x padawan #padawan reader #cute #protective #worried #angry #star wars #part 1 #kenobi #oneshot

[headoverjojo]

Is it cool if I ask for hcs of the Bucci Gang witnessing their new male member who is a shy stuttering mess go berserk and wiping out a rival gang in a fight by themselves? The new member takes on a whole wild and deadly persona when pressured in battle. You don't have to write this if it's too confusing.

Hello!! Oh it is more than cool :3 so here we go! I hope it’s enough to meet your expectations! Also I apologise if there are mistakes here and there, I’m more sleepy than I should be and I’ve not checked, oof- and so, dying like men, here we go!

Bruno’s gang with a new member who is really shy but goes berserk when pressured in battle

(Under the cut for length!)

Bruno Bucciarati

It was Bruno the one who recruited G/N, seeing a great potential under his shyness. Also, the fact that G/N had the guts to face Polpo and his test showed Bruno that the boy could make it! It wasn’t the best of works, of course, but… he didn’t have anyone. He was alone in this world and Bruno didn’t want him to fade like a candle. And who knew… maybe, after some work together, he would have managed to live out of the organization! At least, Bruno hoped this, for him…

Life in the gang wasn’t easy, of course. Aside of the light teasings of the group, which, however, never went too far, missions were a daily thing to deal with. Bruno was a bit worried, he had to admit it; the new recruit seemed so shy and timid…. would have he managed to end a mission? Bruno had to be sure he was ready, so, for the first missions, he went with him. It all seemed to go as it should, smoothly and fine, until a time when they found themselves in heavy disadvantage. They couldn’t clear the area alone…

This is when G/N snapped. Literally. Bruno clearly saw his eyes darkening and his expression grow serious, even… even dangerous. And then, before he could ask him what was wrong, he striked. Bruno had never seen something like that: with a deadly precision, he took down a whole enemy platoon without even sweating. In five minutes, all of them were on the ground, dead. Bruno was shocked; how was that possible…? However, when he came back to his senses, Bruno was fast to take him away from the scene. It had been… even amazing, yes… but he didn’t want G/N to see what he had done and maybe to feel guilty. Bruno knew it for sure: he would have done everything he could to prevent it from happening again.

Leone Abbacchio

Abbacchio had many, many doubts about G/N’s entrance in the gang. He had studied him with sharp eyes, valuing if he would have been useful to the team. Seeing how he behaved, how shy and almost fearful he was, Abbacchio couldn’t help but to think that maybe he wasn’t good for the team and the organization in general. Too soft, too shy… he wouldn’t have lasted a day on a mission. And that was why Abbacchio, even if a bit unconsciously, always had an eye on him, to be sure their new member was fine.

Abbacchio even kept the others far from teasing him too much. He knew they, sometimes, were a bit too much -hell, he too was, sometimes-, but he didn’t think he was ready to handle the team’s teasings. Abbacchio also gave him advice, in his harsh and snappy way, of course, but his advice saved G/N’s life more than once. Also, he always insisted to go on missions with him, to keep an eye on him; to be sure he wasn’t going to mess up, he always said, but everyone knew that he just wanted to be sure he was safe, like a sort of mama bear with her cub.

Luckily, missions always went well. They always were a quick thing: they came, they grabbed the information they needed, they fled. This worked well until the day when they had to face not one or two guards, as usual, but an entire enemy gang. Their enemies weren’t even looking at G/N; their goal was to kill Abbacchio, Moody Blues’ user, and to shut his mouth forever. However, this was an incredible mistake; finding himself pressured and without any escapeway, G/N shifted completely. He launched himself, with a cold and raging determination, and he snapped everyone’s neck like it was nothing, without being wounded even once. When he was done, he couldn’t believe it. He did this all…? Abbacchio too was shocked. What the hell…? He didn’t stop to think too much about it: he grabbed him and just ran the hell away from there. He never talked again about it, but now he was even more protective: he didn’t want more blood on their hands.

Guido Mista

Mista takes his time to study the new member and how he behaves. He’s kinda shy, reserved… he doesn’t know if he would stay long in the team, to be honest, in Passione in general. He personally knows certain people in the organization who would tear him apart in tiny pieces without a second thought; all in all, G/N has been lucky to end up in their gang, where they all, more or less, are all pretty reliable guys… still, this doesn’t mean he’ll leave him alone just because he’s shy and such. Every new member must have a chance to enter in their family!

And so, Mista approaches them in his usual way: starting one of his weird convos, mostly about food -food brings near people, he always says-, but he doesn’t expect him to actually get invested into the conversation! Usually the others are too weirded out by his reasonings… he, instead, seems interested! That’s something new! Maybe he has found the Great Friend he always missed? He hopes so! And, not to even risk to lose him, he always go on mission with him. He’s a veteran and his stand allows both of them to stay far from the action, but this doesn’t work every time…

As, for example, that time. Mista thought to have taken down all the targets, but no; as soon as he and G/N peeked from their hiding spot, they were ambushed. Mista was out of bullets and he wouldn’t have never reloaded in time; they were done. Maybe not; G/N, seeing himself and Mista circled by enemies, seemed to lose his mind. He charged, with a strength that Mista had never seen, and one by one he took down every single opponent, just with the raw strength of his hands. When he was done, they were now circled by corpses. Even before he came back to his senses, Mista picked him up and carried him away from that massacre, not to let him see. He too, even with all the experience in Passione, was a bit shocked… and he was also shocked by G/N’s ability. What was that…? He wasn’t, however, scared: he had the feeling that he wouldn’t have ever attacked a friend, and this was fine with him. Still, he promised to be more careful: he didn’t want them to go berserk again due to a stupid mistake like that time!

Narancia Ghirga

Narancia doesn’t have qualms in saying he doesn’t think the new member is quite right for the gang. He doesn’t say it to be mean: in fact, he’s worried both about his team and the new member himself. Being so shy and, so, probably weak, he’d be a nuisance for the team; at the same time, he would have risked his life more than usual. He really didn’t know… at the same time, however, it was the chance to have a new friend! So, he took on himself the role of G/N’s mentor, to the other’s utter horror -aside from Bruno: he actually thought it would have been the chance, for Narancia, to grow for real!-.

Narancia, even if he’s a bit -a lot- impetuous, is amiable and easy to talk to. G/N, after the first times, would surely find in Narancia a good and supportive friend! Narancia would always reach out for him, to drag him to do funny, and often dangerous too, things, to explore the city, to see movies… with Narancia, he’d never feel alone or left in a corner! Narancia, also, would insist to be his partner in missions; even if he’s young, Narancia has been in the gang for long time, so he knows how to move around, and his stand is perfect both to defend, attack and prevent. He has no doubts: he is the best choice!

Their missions go smoothly. Bruno doesn’t give them anything too complicate or dangerous, and, slowly, G/N starts to gain confidence, seeing that he’s doing well! However, one terrible day, not even Aerosmith is enough to prevent the ambush. They are hopelessly surrounded by enemies, too many to take down… but, right when Narancia is ready to just fight till his last breath, G/N strikes, with a strength and a fury Narancia has never seen, and one by one he takes down the enemies. Narancia is just baffled. What the hell?! When everyone’s down, he immediately checks the area to be sure no one’s around, then he picks up G/N and carries him away. Once they’re at the HQ, he’d just go nuts about it! That was amazing! What an incredible power!! He almost envies him!! However, if he sees that G/N is not enthusiast about it, Narancia would tone down, even if he’d still fangirl inside.

Pannacotta Fugo

Fugo knows that if someone is in Passione, is because they have nothing left to lose. Criminal life is the last shore; he wouldn’t judge G/N, as he knows that he’s with them because he has nowhere else to go. He’d be welcoming, trying to help him to get familiarized with the gang and his new life. When he’s not angry, Fugo is a pretty amiable person, he sincerely tries to be friendly and helpful, and this helps G/N a lot to become part of the family!

He takes him under his wing a bit like he did for Narancia, explaining how things work and trying to keep him far from the most gruesome events, being, in fact, a sort of big brother figure. He also goes with him on missions, even if those are never missions where they have to fight enemies; Fugo still doesn’t trust himself enough to use Purple Haze in battle and he’s better at talking to allies and at negotiating, so Bruno always sends him on this kind of mission, with G/N as backup. Everything was fine, at least until that time…

The time when their “allies” betrayed them, turning against the two boys, and threatening their life. Fugo was quick in analyzing the situation: they wouldn’t have made it. Their enemies were too many, and… and maybe he would have been able to open a way using Purple Haze, but risking to poison also G/N… it had to be another way! And that other way was G/N himself: Fugo could sense the shift in him, right before he shot forward, hitting and beating like crazy, in a sloppy, violent and totally berserk-like way. He didn’t stop until the last of the traitors was laying on the ground; just then he snapped back. Fugo grabbed his wrist and dragged him away, to avoid any unwanted attention, and, at the HQ, he just said that those allies weren’t allies anymore and not a problem, also, anymore. He kept G/N’s secret: it wasn’t his duty to talk about it to the others.

Giorno Giovanna

Giorno himself knows how hard it is to integrate into a new gang and the struggle to get over the innate suspicion and “period of trial” of the rest of the boys. He can sympathize with the new member, even more when he sees that, unlike Giorno, G/N is shy and timid; he can’t even start to imagine how hard it can be to be thrown into a life like theirs while not being suited for it! But, if he’s with them, it means he has nowhere else to go… And Giorno is not a person who leaves a teammate without helping them. He’s going, so, to do his best to make his life at least a little easier!

For a shy person, Giorno is the ideal person to have near. He seems to emanate a calm and reassuring aura, and his confidence and determination is able to give a sense of safety; he knows what he’s doing and he’s not reckless like Narancia or Mista, nor he loses his patience fast like Fugo, so G/N can at the same time feel guided and safe to make a mistake, from time to time. So, Giorno is the ideal partner for missions, as he’s quick to think even under pressure when their plan A and B are just being blown. Giorno has been G/N’s rock; but even rocks can crumble…

And it happened. One day, not even Giorno could think about another plan, didn’t know how to drag them out of that situation. They were surrounded by too many enemies and he didn’t have a plan. He didn’t know how to save them… and G/N read it in his eyes. He knew that Giorno didn’t know, that time, how to same them. They were going to die… or maybe not? Giorno turned around to tell him to run away; at least one of them could survive! But he saw G/N’s eyes dark, filled with fury, and then he dashed forward, with an unnatural speed and strength, and took care of all their enemies. Suddenly, a deadly situation completely turned in their favor; when Giorno saw G/N coming back to his senses, he dragged him away, to avoid the police and more eventual enemies. Giorno was baffled; what was that? G/N’s stand? Or something else? He doesn’t have answers, but surely he’s grateful: he has saved both their lives!

#jjba #vento aureo #bruno's gang #bruno bucciarati #leone abbacchio #guido mista #narancia ghirga #pannacotta fugo #giorno giovanna #male new member #shy member #berserk mode #male member #headcanons #sfw #mix-senpai

[accidentally-a-writer]

Hey there^^ Read your "What We Can Never Understand" series and I absolutely love it! The angst and how George just wants to protect his boy is just ajsycwjvewxy SAD BUT AMAZING! For the trope list, i have "Gunshot Wound", "Ambush", and "I Ain’t Got Time to Bleed". Have a great day!

First of all, thank you so much! Also, this is a little long for a ficlet but I enjoyed writing it so much that I couldn’t stop myself xD 

They came out of nowhere. 

The path was completely clear, the birds had been singing. He’d been chatting with Washington, something inconsequential probably, he couldn’t remember. It’d been a nice, amiable conversation. 

And then the first bullet split the sky and everything went to Hell. 

Men and horses and guns screaming, everywhere. Hamilton, distantly aware of himself doing the same, drawing his gun and firing at the first flash of red he saw. 

The only thought in his mind; keep the general safe. 

But the world was just a blur of sounds and lights and colours and then there was no more air in his lungs, knocked away as he was thrown from his horse, which had been shot. 

Hamilton rolled, preventing himself from further injury, and stood up, his head desperately whipping about, searching for Washington within the pandemonium. It wasn’t hard to find him, the general was an entire aura unto himself, one that Hamilton was quite adept at seeking out. 

The aide made a break for it, running sporadically like he’d been taught, jumping over fallen trees and debris and sliding to the soft forest ground beside the general. The tree trunk they were shielded behind offered adequate cover from the storm of bullets raining around them. 

Washington and Hamilton shared a look with each other, their message to the other clear. I’ve got you. Hamilton set to reloading his gun, his fingers working with a mind of their own. 

“Ambush,” Washington supplied lamely, as if Alexander wasn’t acutely aware of what was happening. Hamilton nodded nevertheless, his panting breaths disabling his speech momentarily. “How the Hell did they know we were travelling today?” Washington mused aloud. 

Quick as a flash, Alexander spun himself around to face the field again, fired his pistol, and was back to leaning his back against the trunk. 

“We need to get you out of here,” he panted. One look at Washington told him that this was not going to be easy. 

“I’m not abandoning my men, Hamilton.” 

“It’s a bloodbath out there, Your Excellency, there’s no scenario where we stay here and survive. We’re horribly outmanned, and definitely outgunned.” 

Washington’s face flashed with conflict, and Alexander felt for him, he did, but he knew they could waste no more time. 

“Where would we go,” Washington finally asked, conceding. “The horses have all been killed.” 

“Working on that part.” Hamilton’s quick eyes scanned the terrain, his mind formulating a plan amidst all the chaos. There was a primitive escape working its way through his mind, but it was not his first choice by any means. (His only choice, perhaps, but he wouldn’t like it.) “How cold is the river this time of year?” 

“What?” The general shot him a look, clearly stating his confusion and thoughts of such a question in times like this. Hamilton responded with his own look, demanding his question be answered. “I don’t know, Hamilton, just above freezing maybe. Why?” 

“You’re not going to like it.” Hamilton’s eyes trailed towards the other side of the makeshift battlefield. There was a drop-off there, a cliff that went straight into the- 

“No.” 

“It’s our only chance.” 

“We’ll never make it-”

“I’ll cover and you run.” 

“That’s suicide.”

“That’s doing my duty, sir.” Hamilton could hear the gunshots coming fewer and farer in between, they were running out of time. “I’m not going to lay down and die, but we need to move now, or we’re both dead for sure.” 

Still conflicted, Washington agreed. Hamilton had enough gun powder left for one last shot, after that it would be completely reliant on luck that they survived. 

“You want us to jump into the river? Have you thought about what in Devil’s name we’ll do after that?” 

“You know, Your Excellency, if you don’t like my plan you can always make one of your own.” Despite the situation, Washington huffed out a laugh. It was a very Hamilton thing to do, sass him in life-threatening circumstances. 

But the boy was right. Washington had no idea how they could escape this, and even though this was a reckless, stupid plan, it was the only one they had. 

“Fine,” he sighed “what do we do after we jump?” 

“The waters aren’t white, and they’re moving fairly slowly, so there are no rapids and it’s deep enough for us to jump.” Hamilton paused to chance a glance around the trunk. He had five, ten minutes maybe, before all his comrades were killed and the redcoats went searching for them. His heart felt a bit heavier at the thought. “Once we’re in the water try to stay under for as long as possible, the British will surely check, and if we don’t surface immediately they’ll believe us dead.” 

Washington nodded along with the plan, but one thought kept penetrating his mind. “Hamilton, you don’t like water. Are you that strong of a swimmer?” 

Hamilton hesitated, “I can swim when I need to sir, I just don’t like the feeling; cold water surrounding and suffocating you, it’s not pleasant.” 

“I imagine it’s not.” Washington cast a pitying glance at the boy, he’d heard about the hurricane that Hamilton had been one of the few survivors of. “I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you get out, understood?” 

The boy nodded, and shut his eyes. For a few moments all Hamilton did was listen, listen and try to ascertain where all the gunfire was coming from. It wasn’t just his comrades that were running out of ammunition. 

He mapped out the battlefield in his mind, integrating what he knew about the men’s placements, and figured out what their route would be.

It was going to be a miracle if they survived this. 

“Alright, let’s go.” Quick as a blink the boy had sprung to his feet and started running to the next tree, the next point of cover. Washington was quick to follow, but with less preparation. 

They’d been noticed, and the gunfire was soon turned towards the tree. Bullets whizzed past on either side, forcing the general to grab his aide and hold him close. 

“Wait for the bullets to stop, they’ll be reloading by then. Whoever’s left will have noticed us as well and will cover us. There’s no where to duck for at least six metres.” 

Washington nodded, and tensely listened. When the gunfire had lessened considerably Hamilton was off again, this time with his pistol at the ready. Washington drew his own, but unlike Hamilton, had no clue where to aim. 

It was hard not to get lost in the bloodbath the ambush had caused. There were men everywhere, in red, in blue, it didn’t matter, they were all bleeding the same blood. 

Hamilton’s shot sounded, and out of his peripherals a man fell down the hill. 

Something flashed in George’s eye, without thinking he had barrelled off course and pulled Hamilton to the ground, a hoarse shout of “down!” ripping through his throat. The bullet whizzed over the pair, harmless now but deadly a few seconds prior. 

Hamilton scrambled up from the ground, grabbing Washington’s fallen gun and taking out their supposed sniper. They were now out of ammunition and almost out of allies. At the very least, they were lucky that the British had also seemingly decided shooting at the pair was getting them nowhere. 

Alexander surveyed how many opponents they’d need to get through, it was looking less and less possible by the moment. The British, apparently, knew how to plan a proper ambush. The aide drew his dagger, backing up against Washington, who was doing the same. 

“Ten men, all armed, I assume their hand-pistols are loaded.” 

Outgunned, outmanned. 

“I’m with you till the end, Alexander.” Although sentiment was not Alexander’s strong suit, not from men like Washington anyhow, he appreciated it just this once. He was going to die after all. 

Their moment didn’t last very long. The redcoats attacked like hungry wolves cornering their prey. 

Hamilton was a flurry of limbs, ducking and twisting at the right times to dodge a blow, parrying  with his own and sometimes finding home with his blows. 

Washington had a very different fighting strategy, Hamilton was small so he was fast, but Washington could claim no such thing. Through sheer strength alone Washington took down his opponents. 

In his movements, Alexander had been separated from his commander. A thrown fist caught him in his jaw, making stars dance across his vision. The pause in his movements gave all the opportunity the redcoats needed to take their chance and grab him. 

Washington couldn’t see Hamilton but he heard the grunt and hiss of pain as he was pulled to the ground. With new mindless panic filling his stomach Washington quickly kicked out his leg and forced his current opponent backwards, where the soldier tripped over a root and smashed his head into a forgotten stump. 

The boy was rolling on the ground with a redcoat, both trying to gain control of a dagger. Hamilton could feel the pressure of their punches and kicks, but felt none of the pain, being consumed with survival instinct instead. 

His head was slammed into the ground once more, sending hot flashes of white to blind him momentarily. Knowing he’d lost the fight for the knife, the boy kneed upwards, catching his assailant where he’d hoped and using the respite in his blows to break the man’s neck. 

The respite didn’t last for long, another of the redcoats was quick to yank him up from his position on the forest floor, not noticing the dagger Hamilton now had control of. Like his friend, the redcoat was soon dead on the ground. 

There were only three redcoats left, God was surely with them today. 

“Hamilton!” The boy looked to his left, where Washington had shouted for him. Hamilton was infinitely grateful that his commanding officer looked relatively unharmed. The boy tipped his head towards the ridge and the general nodded, the pair taking their chance and running for it. 

Somewhere a gunshot cracked, apparently they had one more shot in them. As far as the aide knew, it didn’t hit its mark. Hamilton let out a shout as he was forced to the ground, his shoulder hitting a sharp stone. His assailant was quick to deliver a punch to his gut and wrap his hands around his throat, choking the life out of him. 

He couldn’t breathe he couldn’t breathe he couldn’t breathe. 

Washington stopped at the ridge, turning to check for Hamilton and feeling his blood go cold at the sight. He was there, and that in itself was a miracle, but Alexander… 

The boy’s legs were flailing, his hands vainly trying to pry the redcoat’s fingers away from his throat. He was dying. 

“God dammit,” Washington cursed, running back for his aide-de-camp. 

Hamilton felt the weight of the man thrown off of him, he rolled over and took in great heaving breaths, never having been so grateful for air. A dull ache was working it’s way up his shoulder, he assumed from when he jarred it against the ground. 

Washington, now finished with the one who dared to hurt his aide, hauled him up and back towards the ridge. They were ready to jump, but Hamilton hesitated.

Hamilton was scared of the water, Washington knew this with almost certainty. He grabbed the boy close to him and jumped. 

The two hit the water together, the near freezing water attacking their skin almost immediately. Remembering what Alexander had said, Washington fought to keep him and Alexander under the water for another minute before surfacing. 

Both he and the boy instantly began sputtering, Hamilton’s throat still raw and burning from his bout of oxygen deprivation. They drifted down the river until they found a ridge that they could safely wash up against. 

Washington had yet to let go of Alexander, for fear of losing him. 

They laid on the gravel of the riverbed watching the minutes slip away and just breathing. Washington tore his eyes away from the clouds above, checking Alexander for injuries. A cry of alarm tore its way out of the general’s throat, startling the serene looking aide. 

There was a hole in Alexander’s shoulder. 

He wasn’t even aware of it. It suddenly explained the serenity, his aide-de-camp was losing blood and there was nothing being done to prevent it. 

“Alexander your shoulder-”

“It’s just a cut, I landed on a stone when that man tackled me.” 

“No stone can do that, son, I know a gunshot when I see it.” 

As if they hadn’t already been through enough, Washington now had to get them help and tend Hamilton’s shoulder, in the middle of the forest, with no hope of finding allies for at least a day on foot. 

Perhaps the Lord wasn’t looking down on them with favour after all. 

#writing #whump #whump prompt #gunshot wound #ambush #Alexander hamilton #literally didn't realize he was shot #whatta smart lil idiot #fanfiction #hamilton fanfic #george washington #washingdad #requests are open #strangulation

[yourdreamscenarios]

Soulmates I part 1

∙ Not requested ♡ ∙ Word count:  ∙ Part 2 ♡

“We captured them over night. They thought they’d be able to sneak in without us noticing, But Yugyeom did a very good job and found out exactly what they were up to.” JB said, as he gazed each and every one of them in the eye, making sure his words penetrated into each of your heads. As soon as his eyes locked with yours you felt the strong need to look away, just the feeling of him staring at you made you feel sick. But you couldn’t do it, not without looking suspicious, and so you forced yourself to endure it for as long as necessary. It seemed to take forever before his eyes wandered towards the next person, standing beside you. Freeing the breath you didn’t know you had been holding you knew that it would be your turn soon. You weren’t here to capture people or to guard them, you were here to make them talk. You were just a pawn in the game, their game. Your fists clenched at your sides because you knew you would be manipulated to do it again, just like you always were. There was no end to this, you weren’t foolish enough to believe so. There was no way out of this for you, you were trapped like a rabbit in a hole. 

There was nowhere for you to go, no place you could run to. And even if you would try to get out, there was no one you could reach out for. You’d be alone, and alone, you were as good as dead. You had been here for so long, you couldn’t even remember what it was like to have an opinion or what it felt like to make your own decisions. You’d turned into a horrifying person, simply because they had turned you into one. They brought out the worst in you, and they loved it. They had torn you apart and recreated you, into someone you didn’t want to be. It was as if you were stuck in a body which wasn’t yours. “From now on we will no longer be standing in their shadows. From now on the souls will be ours and we won’t have to hesitate any longer to take what belongs to us. Together we’ll be able to concur the world and nothing is going to be able to stop us.” JB said, and you actually felt your heart clench because of his words. The speech frightened you, because you were afraid of what they would do once there would no longer be anyone who was strong enough to stop them. The venom was dropping from his words, and directed towards the people who were waiting for you downstairs. The only thing they wanted was destruction, to rule and to overmaster every human being in this world. They needed souls and they needed power, and for that, they needed you. 

Until now BTS had been the only organization which had been able to stand up against them. They had been able to stop multiple attacks and to force this group back over many times. But if what they said was true, and they were actually locked up in your underground cells at this very moment, then you were all doomed. The last bit of hope you’d cherished was withering away inside of you. “Alright, let’s find out what they know. We were only able to capture three of them, which means that the others are still on the loose. Yugyeom, Jinyoung, I want you to guard the place while we’re down with them. Give us a signal as soon as you notice anything strange. You, are coming with me.” He pointed his finger right at you, and a shiver ran down your back because of it. You wondered what would happen if you would bite it off, like the wild dog they had taught you to be. You felt many different longings pull you through you at that moment. You wanted to spit into his face, you wanted to tell him to fuck off. But instead you obeyed him and you hit your cap across of your face, making sure it covered your eyes as you walked behind the leader of your group, but you had never seen yourself as a part of it. You could tell Bambam was right behind you, he didn’t need to be told what to do, he knew exactly what his task was. He went wherever you went because the truth was something they couldn’t deny. That they were all terrified of you. So far you had never found a person who had been able to fight your power and they knew you were made to kill. 

You were a deadly machine, a weapon created for war and destruction and to them you meant nothing more than that. The only thing they wanted was to use you, for their own goals. But they knew you could kill them just as easily, which was the reason why they needed someone with a power that came slightly close to yours to stick close, to attack once you decided to turn your back on them. They acted like idiots, but they were snakes, and if you wouldn’t be careful they could be the end of you. JB opened a large, metal door in front of him. You could feel the cold even before you stepped forward. While descending the stairs all the little hairs on your arms stood upright underneath your cloak as you tried to ignore the smell of death which seemed to linger around through the air. You detested this place, it reminded you of all the suffering you had created, of all the monstrous things you had done. “I’m sure our guests will be thrilled to see you. I bet they’d love to have a lovely chat with you.” JB said, his voice echoing around the place and you knew that he had meant for them to hear it, to know that you were coming and figure out what was waiting for them. It thrilled him to frighten him, even if it was just a little. Behind you Bambam let out an airy chuckle, his mind free from any worries and you honestly envied him. 

As soon as you stepped down onto the floor of the cells you could feel the air shift around you. The air seemed to thicken, some sort of electricity rushing through you as they led you towards the cell they had chosen for their so called guests. “I see you brought us your mistress.” One of the boys called from behind the iron bars. Squeezing your eyes at him you wondered if he was even able to see your gaze from underneath your hood. Was that what they called you these days, the mistress? The thought sickened you, but you refused to let it get to you. Your chest expended in equal movements, as you forced your breath to remain steady. Just like JB had told you, there were only three men stuck in that small space in front of you. You took your time, while the men started bickering, to observe them. One of them was lazily leaning into the bars, hanging from them as he shot the three of you a sarcastic smile. If he sensed his nearing death at all, then he surely wasn’t fearing it. The second boy was standing on the other side, his eyes squeezed into slits as he eyed each and every one of you separately, his gaze lingering on you a little longer than the others. The third one was standing at the far back of the cell, his arms crossed over each other as he stared ahead of himself, into the distance. All three of them were cuffed around the wrists, a silent stone engraved inside of them to make sure their powers were captured inside of them, unable to be set free. You had once worn those cuffs and you knew exactly what it felt like to feel the storm rage inside of you, impossible for it to get out. 

You didn’t need light to know that they were all very handsome, rumor had it they took a new girl home to their headquarters every single night. But you also knew that rumors were often called out to be lies. “I’m here to negotiate with you.” JB said in a cheerful tone, while the uncomfortable feeling which had come over you ever since you had stepped inside of the room was growing inside of you. It seemed to be clawing at your insides, searching for a way out. You shifted beside him, trying not to gain too much attention, but it seemed as if your prisoners only had eyes for you as they followed each of your movements. You were their strongest opponent here and they knew it. If they were able to overpower you, there was a much bigger chance for them to get out of here. “We’re still not interested, sorry mate.” The first guy said, his voice mocking as he pushed himself off against the bars and shot you a wink. His behavior was childish and reckless, especially for a situation like this, but you admired his courage. Most of them fell on their knees and begged for forgiveness. 

“Oh come on Suga, I’m sure we can arrange something. I’d be so sad if I’d have to ask ______________ to do it for us.” He continued and you had to hold yourself back so that you wouldn’t scream. You hated it when he used your name in front of them, it made all of this seem real, it proved that it was really you who was doing all of this. As if he could feel the tension radiating from you Bambam’s hand encircled itself around your shoulder, in a not so gently manner. It was a warning, and you forced your muscles to relax underneath his touch. The guy in the back seemed to fist his hands by his side, but he still remained unmoving. “Go ahead, we’re not afraid of you, or death. We know what she can do, we’ve seen the victims she left behind, we know exactly what to expect.” The third one said, and there was so much venom inside of his voice, directed towards you, that you knew he hated you even more than JB and his crew combined. You wanted to tell him that you didn’t want to do this, that you’d never wanted any of this to happen. You wanted him to know that you didn’t want to kill him, that you had mourned as much because of the victims you had made than anyone else. But you couldn’t, because that hand was still there and you were sure that wasn’t what they wanted to hear. 

The smile that appeared on JB’s face had nothing sincere to it as he lifted his hands in the air as a sign of surrender. It caused your blood to set inside of your veins. “Alright, as you wish. Bring him to her.” He said, pointing towards the only guy who hadn’t spoken since you had walked in. But he seemed to be very much aware about what was going on as Bambam opened the cell and reached for him. Even though he was muscular and you were sure he could defend himself without his powers, he did nothing to safe himself as Bambam placed him right in front of you. FIGHT, DO SOMETHING. You wanted to yell those words at him, slam your fists against his chest, but he just stood there. He stared at the spot where he thought your eyes would be, which were still covered by the clothing you were wearing. “Please, ____________, give him the honor to find out what we do with those who don’t cooperate.” JB said, as if you were his pet and he was asking you to take a piss somewhere. You hated him, with every single nerve inside of your body. The anger that rushed through you was so overwhelming and strong, you weren’t sure if you’d ever felt something like that before. 

There was only one person in this room who deserved to be stroked by your power, and that was him. Reaching up you hit back your cloak, trying to keep your fingers from trembling, which would show your weakness and revealed your face to the man in front of you. Slightly surprised you watched the way his mouth parted slightly as he sucked in his breath. The itchy feeling from before was growing stronger, calling out to you and pumping through your veins, getting hard to ignore. A tingling sensation formed itself inside of your toes, and your breath faltered for the slightest second. Straightening up you tried your hardest to repulse every bit of emotion from your face, forcing your expression to remain motionless. It was a gift itself, in order not to feel, not to drown. You lifted your hand, knowing that if you touched him it would be easier for you to connect your powers with him and it wouldn’t cost you as much energy as when you’d do it from a distance. Yet, as soon as you placed your hand on top of his bare wrist, you jolted back, as if he’d just burned you. A painful sting lingered on your fingertips as you hissed lowly. The stranger doubled over and placed his hands on his knees as he tried to keep himself upright. “Jungkook!” Suga yelled from his spot behind the bars, clearly worried about his friend. The name rang inside of your ears as you stumbled back against the wall with wide eyes. Pressing yourself back up against it, you tried to wrap your mind around what had just happened while the coldness of the stone dug into your back, slipped past your clothing.

The only explanation was that you had imagined it, this feeling couldn’t have been real. Yet, your breath was coming out in a jerky way which sounded unhealthy. You had never felt something like that before, such a warm and bright sensation that flooded through you, rooting in every single nerve you owned. As soon as the man you had just touched lifted his head to look at you, you could tell he had felt it too. He stared at you with wide, startled eyes, but in a far different way than he had done before. His cold and none caring gaze was gone, replaced by something you weren’t quite able to describe. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” JB hissed as he walked up to you, roughly grasping you by the elbow and shaking you. It seemed as if you had humiliated him, because it was told his people didn’t show weakness. You opened your mouth to say something, but no sound came out. It was as if you had lost your voice. Your eyes were glued to the boy in front of you, knowing that this might be the only time, the last time you’d see him. “I asked you something!” He shouted straight into your face, jiggling you in such a way that even your teeth hit together. “Don’t touch her!” The entire room fell silent around you as Jungkook’s, as his friend has called him, voice echoed through the air for the first time since you’d shown up. Even JB seemed astonished beside you as his grip around your arm softened slightly. Your bones were singing a melody by the sound of it.

He eyed his enemy with suspicion, his brain probably working on overdrive to figure out what was going on in his own house. One thing was for sure, he couldn’t know. As soon as he would figure out what had just arisen between the two of you, you were both going to get punished for it. “And what do you care boy? She’s mine and I do with her as I please!” JB snarled, causing an uncomfortable squirm to break free from your lips as he tightened his fingers again. In just a matter of seconds he showed up right in front of you, his blazing eyes pointing straight at you, something murderous inside of them. He blocked your view on Jungkook and his friends, which finally gave your fast beating heart the chance to calm down. “I told you to make him talk.” He said, his second hand grabbing your chin so he could use it to lift your head, giving you no other choice than to look at him. His touch was harsh, his fingers ice cold compared to the touch you’d shared with the person behind him. He was angry, he thought you were trying to humiliate him in front of his enemy. In any other situation you might have growled at him, but right now you were just too shocked to say anything. You couldn’t believe that your soulmate was standing right there, just a few feet in front of you, and now this guy was asking you to use your strengths on him. 

“Take his soul and make him talk, now.” He growled, demanding you as if you were some piece of dirt. Normally you would have scattered underneath his gaze, after all he was the only reason why you weren’t living out on the streets. He had given you a home, a roof above your head, no matter how cruel it had been during all these years and even though you didn’t like it here, you didn’t have any other place to go. But he had asked you to do the most terrible things ever since you’d been here, had caused you to loose yourself in murder and punishment. You were sick of being afraid of him. You were no longer going to allow him to play these games with you. You were not some kind of toy. “No.” You said, your voice barely a whisper. You cringed, not because of fear but because of the weakness inside of your own voice. The word was unknown on top of your tongue, a very unfamiliar taste since this was the first time you used it. The rational part of your brain was screaming at you, telling you that you were making a terrible mistake. But you didn’t have a choice. JB blinked his eyes for a few seconds, clearly shocked by your disobedient behavior. Before all of this the movement of him lifting his hand and bringing it towards your face in a fast movement would have frightened you, it would have caused you to flinch. But you stood tall when all of a sudden his hand collided with the side of your cheek, the impact forcing your head to the side. 

The painful sting traveled along your skin, covering the left part of your face as you felt your eyes water. Though you refused to cry. “You ungrateful little bitch.” JB muttered into your face and you wondered what his next move would be. Was he going to make you do it, was he going to leave you no choice? Yet, you would never find out because somehow this time it was JB who got hit in the head. Gasping loudly you saw how he flew straight towards the floor, the blow much harder than anyone would have expected. And there was Jungkook, towering above him as his breath left his mouth rapidly. Storms seemed to be raging inside of his eyes as he managed to fight JB, even with his handcuffs neatly in place. There was no doubt in saying this man was strong. “I told you not to touch her.” He wheezed and a second of silence passed before something dark and evil got released inside of the small space you shares. JB let out a murderous scream and Bambam immediately took action. He took large strides towards you and you knew that once he’d get to you, things wouldn’t be pretty. Jungkook might defend you, but even if he would he wouldn’t stand a chance with those things keeping his hands together. 

Your mind was spinning as you thought about a way out. The seriousness of the situation hit you like a large wave as Bambam easily fought off your savior and slammed him against the wall, a groan coming from his lips. It was as if you could feel that same kind of pain travel straight through your bones while the other male came walked up to you, his hands ready to reach out for you and let his powers run free. Your heart was beating inside of your ears, a beeping sound ringing inside of your mind as you thought about what to do. Jungkook crawled up from the floor, his face contracted in a painful grimace, but his eyes were drilling into ours while Bambam’s hands were inches away from your wrists. The guys locked inside of the cells were yelling, but no distraction could be enough. No one expected what happened next. Your scream radiated against the walls, as a power you had never felt before emerged from somewhere deep inside of you. A white mist rose up in front of you as every sound got blocked from your mind. The next thing you saw was a person laying at your feet, motionless, his skin white as paper. With buckling knees you sank towards the floor and the last thing you saw before the brightness turned into darkness were two strong hands reaching for you. 

 ∙ BTS Masterlist ♡ ∙ Masterlist ♡

#jungkook #bts #au #bts soulmates au #jungkook soulmates au #scenario #scenarios #bts scenario #bts scenarios #jungkook scenario #jungkook scenarios #bts jungkook scenario #bts jungkook scenarios #bts imagine #imagines #imagine #bts imagines #jungkook imagine #jungkook imagines #bts jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagines #jeon #Jeon jungkook #jeongguk #bts jungkook #jk #kookie #angst #bts angst #jungkook angst

[hnrywinchester]

Fare Thee Well - - Chapter 10

Summary: She hasn’t seen Gabriel since he died nine years ago, then a phone call changes everything.

Paring: Gabriel x OFC

Series Warnings: ANGST, smut, swearing, character deaths, PTSD Gabriel, Canon Compliant

Beta’d by: @aquietuniverse

Words: 4.4k

Gabriel froze. There he was. Loki. He was leaning up against the wall, dressed in one of those ridiculous vests as always, his face still stuck in that ‘someone-pissed-in-his-Wheaties’ expression even after all these years. However, Gabriel’s gaze was quickly pulled from his former friend to the cowering figure at his feet. Liv. She was sitting on her knees, one of Loki’s hideous neckties wrapped tightly around her mouth, gagging and suffocating her slowly. Loki’s hand was clutching her long, brown pony tail, effectively holding her in place beside him as if it were a leash. His stomach dropped at the sight. From what he could tell, she was generally unharmed. Her clothes were intact, one eye looked slightly swollen, but beyond that she was in one piece. Her mind was a different story, but Gabriel prayed he’d arrived on time.

“Liv…” Gabriel gasped, his voice shaking from rage and fear together, “what did you do to her?”

Loki smirked, happy to be eliciting the desired emotion from the angel, “Your pet told me she didn’t much compare to a horse, but I believe I have to disagree. Don’t you?”

With a guttural growl, Gabriel took a step towards him, ready to lunge, uncaring that the katana meant for him was missing with the elder Winchester. As his foot lifted from the floor, Loki responded. In one swift movement he pulled what Gabriel recognized as Liv’s hunting knife from the waist of his slacks and held it to her throat, freezing him in his path.

“Not one more step, or I’ll bleed her like a pig. I know you don’t have what it takes to heal her either. So no bluffing,” Loki taunted, cocking his head to one side, “It really would be a shame. I’ve taken a liking to her.”

Rage boiled Gabriel’s blood as he stared at the blade held to Liv’s throat, his nostrils flaring. He was helpless, there was nothing he could do to help her, besides obey. Her expression was unreadable, at least from this distance, her eyes refusing to meet his from across the hallway. This was the one thing that wasn’t supposed to happen, and he’d let it. He shouldn’t have let her walk out of that hotel room, he should never have run without an explanation, this was his fault. As always.

When Loki took a step toward him, Liv obediently fell to her hands and crawled along the floor beside him and Gabriel could feel the satisfaction radiating off of the Demi-God. This was pure heaven for him, complete control and power over not one, but two beings. This was what he lived for, toying with people, emotions and situations, molding everything into entertainment for himself. Gabriel couldn’t wait to end him once and for all. The question was how without losing her in the crossfire.

Loki came to stand a foot away from him, that smug grin still plastered on his face, “Get on your knees and beg,” he commanded.

As the words left his lips, he pressed the tip of the blade into Liv’s skin, her eyes snapping shut in pain as she held back her cry. Gabriel’s lip curled into a snarl as he slowly dropped, his eyes staying locked on the mirror image of his own. When his knees hit the floor, he kept his gaze strong and his body stronger. He may be on his knees but that didn’t mean he was giving in.

“Pathetic,” Loki ridiculed, “Look at what you resort yourself to. For what? A human? Are you that desperate for affections?”

With quick pull on her hair, Loki jerked Liv’s body level with the angel’s, their faces inches apart.

“Look at her,” he ordered, tugging her a little harder.

Slowly, Gabriel pulled his eyes from his opponent to hers, unprepared for the guilt that would undoubtedly wash through him. He felt his brow relax as her brown eyes met with his, his murderous stare softening. From here he could see her red, swollen eyes, bloodshot and filled with sorrow. They weren’t fearful like he’d been expecting, which raised questions as to what tortures Loki had subjected her to in the hour he’d had her. Her lips were strained against the pull of the fabric between them, her breathing hard as she tried to take in as much air her nose would allow. A bruise was forming beneath her right eye, she’d been hit by who he assumed was Sleipnir when he’d taken her captive but he couldn’t be sure. Loki generally tried to remain as unphysical as he could, he was all mind games and theatrics. Gabriel tried his best to apologize with his eyes, he could feel his lips downturning into a frown as she looked at him, helpless. She looked as if she’d given up, and that was not a phenomena that he was at all familiar with.

“Tell him,” Loki spat, “Show him the real person he falls to his knees for.”

With a quick tick of his wrist Loki cut the tie from around her mouth, causing her to gasp in mouthfuls of air as her body recovered from its lack of oxygen. Her chest heaved as she whimpered quietly, her eyes never leaving Gabriel’s, fear spilling into them.

“Please,” she begged, her voice raspy and exhausted, she’d been screaming, “please…”

“Tell him,” Loki demanded again, “or I will.”

“It’s okay,” Gabriel comforted, his heart racing in panic, “it’s okay, sweetheart. You can tell me.”

Her throat was closing in on itself, her tongue frozen in her mouth. He wasn’t making this any easier, with those anxiety-stricken eyes and soft frown, his tone so adoring even now. Half of her thought that Loki killing her was the better option, but she knew that Gabriel would blame himself and leaving him with that guilt to bear for eternity just wasn’t something she could do. The guilt was hers to bear, and it was time to come clean.

“I didn’t look for you,” she confessed, tears pouring from her eyes as the words left her lips in the form of choked sobs, “When you didn’t come back, I never looked for you. I never tried to find you. I… left you. I tried to forget you. I’m sorry! Baby, I’m so sorry…”

Liv’s wrenching sobs echoed through the empty space as she fell to her forearms, burying her face into the floor as she wept. She’d meant to bury that, he was never supposed to know, it was the one secret she meant to take to her grave. She couldn’t bear to look at him, the betrayal that would be etched into his face would haunt her until her dying day.

Gabriel stared at the floor, trying to process what he’d just heard. His chest was constricting as he fought the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. Not here, not in front of Loki. That would give him the ultimate trophy for this monopoly he’d designed, but his heart was breaking. Deep down he knew it was a good thing, that she’d never tried, she’d be dead. Yet, knowing that she’d never even attempted felt like every day of the past twelve years were all… for nothing. She loved him, so he thought, but maybe she didn’t?

“She left you. To rot,” Loki sneered, finally dropping his hold on Liv’s hair as he’d rendered her immobile with emotion alone, “yet you risk your life to save her, time and time again. She doesn’t love you. Who could? Ineffectual, degenerate little runaway. Not even daddy wanted you. You’re going to die, alone, for nothing. With no one to mourn you.”

“That’s not true, “ Liv sputtered, lifting her head to only be swiftly knocked in the temple by Loki’s foot.

With that one action, Gabriel’s rage won. He leapt from his knees and tackled the Norse Trickster, knocking him to his back.

“Go!” Gabriel yelled, flipping his eyes to Liv quickly, Loki’s elbow connecting with his chin before he could even turn his eyes back.

Everything in her was telling her to run, to find Sam and Dean, but as she watched as Loki gained the upper hand on Gabriel, she couldn’t bear to leave his side. She scurried against the wall, pressing herself as far into the plaster as she could, watching on as Loki rose to his feet.

“You think you’re some… poor innocent victim?” Loki began, walking over to Gabriel’s hunched form and planting another brutal punch to his jaw, “Gabriel with his deadbeat daddy and his mean older brothers. ‘Who will help me?’ ‘Who will save me?’ I did!”

Gabriel groaned as Loki lifted him by his jacket, pinning him against the wall by his neck, he knew Liv hadn’t left and he spotted her against the wall near the door to the penthouse, he needed to do something. He couldn’t lose. Not now. Neither one of the men had noticed the Winchesters come into view, but she did. She also saw what Dean was holding in his hands, Loki’s sword.

“But you… you couldn’t keep one promise. And then you had the audacity to ask me to help you… AGAIN?!” Loki continued, throwing Gabriel down the hall, landing right in front of her with his back facing her, “You think I deserve to die for your spinelessness? That my sons deserved to die?! For her!? You let my father die for a some wallowing Jezebel you found on the side of road and decided you wanted to keep!?”

Liv watched on in horror as Loki pounded the angel into the ground, flinching with each smack of his fist on Gabriel’s face. He’d been thrown in Loki’s angry speech and was now lying a foot away from her, Loki still yelling in the distance. This was her chance. She pushed herself from the wall over to his crumpled body, grabbing his shoulder with her hand and turning him to face her. Even though she knew she only had mere seconds to spare, she placed her hand on his cheek softly, running her fingers down the stubble of his jaw. His cheek was split open, his hair messily splayed around his face, he almost looked like he didn’t even care to fight anymore.

“Get up,” she whispered intently, “get up, and finish this.”

As she finished her request, he felt something slide into his hand, the wooden handle of Loki’s sword. Then her hand slowly closed around his, locking his fingers around the weapon.

“Silly girl,” Loki mocked, “He will lead you to your death, and blindly you will follow.”

When Loki spoke to her, her gaze never moved from Gabriel’s. Her eyes were strong, willing him to continue and finish this mission once and for all. She didn’t know where she stood with him anymore, nor did she want to, knowing it would no longer be in high regard, but she refused to watch him roll over and die.

Finally, Gabriel rolled to his feet, grabbing his former friend by his vest and whirling him around to press his back into the wall, the tip of the katana now gently resting against his abdomen. Loki laughed, letting his head loll against the surface behind him.

“Clever girl,” he chided, “of course you would need someone to swoop in and save your pitiful ass.”

“Shut up,” Gabriel snapped, shoving the blade against Loki a little harder.

“Face it, old friend, you’re a joke. You’re a failure. You couldn’t even keep the one thing you cherished above all else. You stand for nothing. And in the end, that’s exactly what you’ll die for.”

“You first.”

With one single groan as Gabriel shoved the blade deep into his stomach, Loki fell limp against Gabriel’s hold. Liv sighed in relief, knowing that now it was over. Gabriel’s quest for vengeance was complete and she hoped that he felt better. That he felt free. Yet, she knew this also brought a whole new level of problems to the table. Now he knew. He knew that she’d walked off and abandoned him, written him off like a bad date and moved on. Although she hadn’t, he’d still occupied every waking thought she had, there was no way explanation of why she’d done what she had. Certainly he would want one though, and she knew he deserved it.

“Oh thank god, so it’s over? We can go now?” Dean sounded from the doorway, his annoyance over this entire task still very evident in his voice.

Liv knew Gabriel’s eyes were locked on her, but she couldn’t meet them. Whether it was shame, embarrassment or fear keeping her from him she wasn’t sure, but she couldn’t face him. Quickly, she turned and sped off back to the ground floor. Running from her responsibilities was nothing short of a talent of hers, it was probably the one thing she did best. She knew it was a temporary solution, giving her maybe ten minutes at best before he’d undoubtedly be standing in front of her. His golden eyes would be glowing in the sunlight, looking at her with the disdain she deserved. Devoid of all the love they once held.

Leaning with her back against the Impala she waited, trying to gather her thoughts and organize them as best as she could. She knew what his first question would be: why? She knew why, but it wasn’t going to sit well with him. After he’d come back, her reasoning had been pounded to dust. Everything she’d thought to be reality had turned out to be nothing more than some sick, twisted alternate universe created solely by her own apathy. She’d brought him down to her level and he was far, far above it.

“Are you okay?” a quiet, soft voice asked from in front of her, her eyes still locked on the pavement beneath her feet.

That was not the first question she was expecting, although it should have been. He was always thinking of her first.

“I’m fine,” she lied, her voice still heavy with her lingering tears.

“You’re lying.”

Of course he knew. Hearing those words from his mouth did not help her situation, she’d never meant to lie to him. She never really had before. Not since they’d started whatever this was. She’d always trusted him with every secret, every feeling and he always accepted it. Except this time. No way he stayed true after this.

Still trying to escape her situation, she’d climbed into the backseat of the car, cornering herself like a rat. He followed, determined for answers that she didn’t want to give.

“Why didn’t you look for me?” he asked, keeping his voice gentle and void of an accusing tone, “I mean, better you didn’t, you’d be dead. But not at all?”

Liv felt her bottom lip begin to quiver as guilt went pummeling through her. The sadness in his question was hard enough to hear, but the look on his face was worse. She could still see the complete devotion he held for her, the esteem and the love. If she’d never let herself get taken, she’d be wrapped in his arms right now, their lips in a battle of affections as they reunited finally. He was supposed to be fixed, ready to take on the second act of his life, post-trauma, with her. They were retiring, jaunting off to some quiet, happy place to live out their days. Her days…. But no. They were here, in the back of the impala with an impossible mountain of regret settling between them.

“I thought you never came back…. Because you just didn’t want to. I thought, you didn’t want it anymore,” she told him, her voice heavy with shame, “I just… figured… you’d moved on…”

“Wait…” he began, his eyebrows furrowing, “thought I didn’t want what? You?”

As she sighed she felt him slide in closer towards her, but he was careful not to touch her. Whether it was because he didn’t want to or was afraid to she wasn’t sure, but she wished he would. Ever since he’d come around, she’d always felt like far less than he’d ever deserved, even less than anything he’d actually want. She was plain, boring, her hair was always messy and her life was even messier. She never wore makeup, or dressed in anything but hunter’s clothes, a stark difference to any company he’d kept in the past. When he never returned after the Apocalypse, it was something she’d been anticipating for years before. Now she realized she just had had no faith in him, he’d been there, proving himself to her, but she’d never believed it.

“Gabriel, I’ve never been-” she began before he cut her off.

“Don’t say it. If you think I’m someone who would waste my own time on anything other than what I want, you know me a lot less than I thought you did. After everything? You still don’t believe that I love you? What do I have to do, Liv? Pull the moon out of the sky and give it to you? Years. We were together for years, and you…”

He felt himself growing angry, and he didn’t want to lash out at her. Throwing the door open, he emerged back into the Colorado sun, trying to understand her reasoning. He’d been devoted, he knew he had. He loved her, once she came around he’d never wanted anything else. His mind never wandered, nor his eyes, and he gave her everything, but she still didn’t believe him. Did she ever trust him? He knew he had a… colorful past, but never once had he given her any reason to doubt him. Yet as soon as he’d left, she’d just… let him. Had she been relieved?

Watching him as he paced outside the car, she stifled back her cry. Her cheeks ached enough, her eyes burned, everything hurt from her fight with that doppelgänger asshole, and all she wanted was sleep. He wasn’t as angry as she thought he’d be, but that anger was replaced with disappointment and she wasn’t sure which was worse. She always knew he’d loved her in some way, but just because she’d known it didn’t mean she’d accepted it. She was far less than what he was capable of having, but anytime she’d broached the subject he’d always just shot it down. It made sense, the idea of her feeling that way was so preposterous to him that he wanted to shove it out of her mind, but it had never really left. Letting her body relax against the side of the door, she watched as Gabriel began talking to with Sam. His little smile alone was enough to brighten her mood, even if only for a moment.

When he climbed into the back seat once more, she cowered deeply into the corner. He looked over at her and she again, refused to meet his gaze, instead focusing on the pavement as Dean started the drive back to Kansas. She knew she was safe for now, Gabriel wouldn’t do anything with the Winchesters here. As theatrical as he was, he appreciated privacy at all the right times, this being one of them. As the scenery became monotonous, she found herself falling to sleep, the day’s events finally catching up with her. When her head lolled back against the old, worn leather, she was a goner.

One hill climbed, another one to go. Every time he felt like he was winning, another block showed up smack in the middle of the road. She thought he didn’t want her. After some of his anger had subsided, he wondered what he’d done to fail her so deeply that she would anticipate him walking out on her. He always knew she didn’t think the best of herself, but he’d always told her that her supposed shortcomings were all in her own head. She loved him, he knew that. She’d come immediately when Sam had called her, she’d walked into that room not out of obligation, it was because she loved him. He was going to cling to that until it was ripped from his cold, dead hands.

When he turned his head to look at her, to tell her that he loved her still, he found her chin tucked to her chest, passed out cold. Her head lolled side to side with the sway of the car and even to him that looked terribly uncomfortable. Gently, he guided her down by her shoulders, laying her head in his lap hoping to save her from a sore neck in a few hours. His fingers found their way into her hair, gently combing through the tangled strands and she whimpered quietly in sleepy response. Yeah, he loved her, always would. Finally now up close, he could see the damages of her time with Loki. The bruise under her eyes was darkening, there were welts on her wrists from what he assumed were his hands and the little cut on her neck was scabbed over. His own guilt washed through him as the realization that those were only there because of her association with him dawned on him. They were both disasters.

Three hours later, Dean pulled into a Gas n’ Sip, the loss of the engine’s rumble rousing Liv from her sleep. Whatever she was laying on was warm, the comforting ministrations in her hair keeping her in a relaxed state. This was nice. It smelled familiar, old leather mixed with arid… Her eyes shot open. When she realized where she was, she jolted upright, immediately running her hands over her hair smoothing it back down. Gabriel looked back at her, shocked by her sudden exit, his hand still in his lap where her head had just been,

“Sorry… must have…” she stammered, unable to get the rest of the words out.

Her feet couldn’t carry her away fast enough. She burst out of the car and beelined straight for the bathroom, her lungs going into overdrive as she gasped for air. Gabriel followed her out of the car, watching sadly as she ran to the bathroom, leaning his body back against the car.

“So, what’s going on? Everything okay?” Sam asked, pulling the gasp pump from the car.

“Peachy keen,” Gabriel responded, “how much longer ‘til we’re back?”

“Halfway there. Look,I know there’s something going on but-”

“Save it.”

Gabriel took off in the direction of the store, he knew she needed something to eat, water at a minimum. As he wandered around the store, half listening to Dean flirting with the cashier, he wondered if his life would ever go back to normal. Ever since he’d been back it had just been disaster after disaster and he was ready to call it. Maybe head back into hiding, go sit for a few hundred years and hit the reset button.

“Add these to his tab,” Gabriel instructed, throwing a water, a coke and a three musketeers bar onto the counter in front of Dean, effectively interrupting his playful banter, “We’re together.”

Gabriel smirked, wrapping his arm around Dean’s shoulders, earning him an eye roll as Dean shrugged his arm off. The bell to the door rang and Gabriel’s heart jumped as it always did when she entered a room. Her eyes fell to him at the register and again she continued with her sheepish approach. Was she afraid of him? He walked over to her, stopping just far enough way to where he thought she’d be comfortable, holding out the things he’d gotten for her.

“Did I get it right?” he asked tenderly, his confusion and sadness evident.

Nodding, she thanked him, taking the items from his outstretched hand as she wondered what was going through his mind. Did he hate her now? He should. As they walked out, a very grumpy Dean following behind them, Gabriel held the door for her, carefully keeping his arm from grazing her shoulder. He had no idea how to fix this.

The rest of the drive was in silence, Dean’s same twelve songs on repeat through the entire three hours. The pair in the back sat miles apart, both wishing for the same thing but too afraid to act. His arms seemed a perfect home as she remembered them. The way he held her as tight as he could, molding her body into all the right places of his to keep his embrace as tight as it could be. The little jokes, I love you’s and sweet nothings he would whisper to get her to laugh or smile made a little grin settle upon her face. She remembered dancing in motel room kitchens at midnight, days spent in bed watching soap reruns and eating anything her heart desired, and fingers that knew how to move against her like they were made just for her.

When they reached the bunker, she was the first inside. Castiel had already arrived home and the relief that settled in her chest when she saw the tan trench coat overcame all other emotions, even if only for a moment. She ran to him, burying herself in his chest, trying to keep the tears away at least until she was safely hidden in her room. Gabriel was next, having ran after her, he’d waited three hours in hopes of getting her alone for the conversation he knew they needed to have. The sight before him however only sent a pang of jealousy straight to his heart. There she was, already comfortable in the arms of his brother. He knew they were friends, hell he’d been thankful for it, but it was his arms he wanted her encircled with. He respected her wishes, walking off in the direction of the library as Castiel watched him with cautious eyes, no doubt afraid of his archangel brother’s anger. Gabriel wasn’t angry, however. If anything, he hoped maybe Cas would have an idea on how to help him fix it, but it didn’t stop the nostalgia of his face in her hair, smelling that coconut shampoo he loved so much as she nuzzled her nose into his neck.

“What happened?” Castiel asked as Dean and Sam entered the bunker.

“We got Gabriel, we open that rift tomorrow,” Dean recounted, “everything else is secondary.”

Gabriel could hear the conversation from his seat at the table, secondary his ass. Dean seemed to be forgetting it was his grace that was necessary for his little spell and he’d be damned if he walked over into Apocalypse land without having every detail of his relationship figured out first. Whether it was continuing or ending, it was being settled before he went and risked his life for those boys again. He’d be damn sure of it.

TAGS: @idabbleincrazy @analisespn @nodistressdamsel

#gabriel x ofc #gabriel x oc #gabriel #spn #gabriel fic #gabriel fanfic #gabriel fanfiction

[ofcrimsonstains]

                                    Nikolay Stepan Alexeev.

nikolay :: Victory of the People. + A man of little words. Why use words when your fists were perfectly able? And talk those fists of his did. Such capable hands are your tool to leading your people to victory. While they may be cracked and bruised, they are only stained crimson with the blood of any who dare to be your enemy. A grave mistake that is, being on the receiving end of those hands. They are hands sculpted, molded and shape, until they rivaled those of Achilles’. Through such devastating fist, victory will come for Hallows.

stepan :: Exalts. + You are man. Just a man. But, the way they used to speak your name with such reverence, three syllables burning through bodies and leaving them full, might have suggested otherwise. In the beginning you were their end. In the middle you were their fear. In the end you were their salvation. You have been the cause of many deaths, but your departure from the Bratva was the spark that ignited Russia. It was the flame that finally bite the chill from many frozen hearts and brought life; they finding a way out, too.

alexeev :: Defender. + You were as soft as you were strong. You were a gentle knight whose insides burn as hot as a dragon. For few, you would lay down your life. For many, you would break and tear and ruin until they were scattered bones and ash. While you’ve always been known as the predator, a man who murders with ease, beneath that cold exterior is the person who protects those he might say he loves.

♟ Faceclaims ♟

Stephen Amell.

♟ Power ♟

Pain Inducement ::

The user is able to cause varying levels of pain, including physical, mental, and emotional, to their targets using supernatural means. + The past was a springboard for your powers. How could it not be? You’re life has always been wrapped around one simple thing: pain. It was there the night your parents left. It was there when you had to be strong for your sister. It was there when you swore yourself to the Bratva It was there when you let your sister get murdered. It was there when you fled your motherland for Serpentia. It is there in your fights. It is there anytime someone gets there grimy hands on Catalina. It is there, and you never could have hoped to outrun it. Pain has seeped into your bones and made itself a home. Now it’s there at your beck and call. That which brought you unending agony now allows you to wield it. Once again, the prey has become the hunter. And the hunter has no mercy. There are no moral codes and tears shed for his victims. If you get in his way, you ought to expect pain.

Nikolay’s powers allow him to manipulate pain within any he sees fit to do so and he has no reservations. He doesn’t mind sundering people useless with the sheer, overwhelming pain that can and will cripple. It leaves many on the floor whimpering, shaking, begging for it to reach it’s end. But, it doesn’t. It only ceases when he says so. But, beware. He is not one to hand out white flags or bend to merciful pleas. Legend speaks of how there is one man who still suffers from Nikolay’s powers; an endless torment, hell brought to earth for the one who murdered his sister.

♟ Motivation / Inspiration ♟

Ella yelling at me was a true inspiration.

B I O G R A P H Y ::

In death, there is life. And what a life it was that the fates spun up for you. For your life was wrapped up in death.

Oh, how he could have grown. He could see it now. Pudgy cheeks and bright grins. A child so rich with life, and awfully adored by all who came into contact with him. There wouldn’t have been a room he couldn’t fill with his effervescent laughter and well mannered smiles. His parents might have doted upon such a darling boy. They might have loved that boy. The boy who was something beautiful, something fierce. They certainly would have stayed for that boy. Only because that boy could offer them something: a chance. A chance at wooing hearts for the sake of swindling them. It would have happened if they hadn’t stolen his innocence in the night and snuffed the very light from such blue, blue eyes. If they stayed, he knows he would have been turned into something beautiful. Beautiful, yet damned.

And yet, they fled in the night without a word and he only became one of those things — damned. They walked out, and no amount of pleading could have saved his world. For too soon his world was destroyed. His existence became wrapped up in his little sister then. The only bundle of joy in his life that he promised would see the light he couldn’t find anymore. To do this, he invited death to rescue him. He allowed madness to take control as he sold his soul to the one thing that could fight the chill from his bones. The Bratva. His saving grace. Both of theirs. It is there where the pudgy boy and darling girl grew under the tight fist of a Bratva captain. Skinny limbs became well toned. Doltish smiles now fierce. A melodic voice gained a bite. The price to pay; leave behind your heart and cast away. A heart only got you dead in the games he played. His house stood strong once his beating heart turned to stone.

Blood on his hands. The taste of sin on his lips. And Murder written into his gaze. He took an oath and deep inside he faded to black. He faded until he became the thing very thing his parents had long ago craved. The predator. A man coveted as much as he was feared. A man who raised hell during the day and delivered heaven beneath silken sheets. He could have anything he desired, and he did. He took, and he took, and he took until there was nothing left to give. All the while, his position in the ranks rose along with his murder count. Any hope of regaining innocence was lost the moment he first slammed his fists into feeble skin, tearing where he should have caressed. Or was it? There were some that didn’t think so. There were some who thought he had more to lose. It was only fair. He couldn’t earn a spot as captain when he had a heart. When there was one he’d bleed himself dry for.

The night the last ounce of light faded from his eyes is burned into his mind. Coming back likes flashes of another life. He was blindfolded and dragged for miles. The taste of dirt was in his mouth and stone teared at his skin. It’s the last night the Bratva ever made him bleed. It was the last time his sister ever drew a breath. It was the first night he made the men of the Bratva bleed. His brothers, the very men he swore himself to, tore the blindfold from his eyes and made him watch as they shot his sister point blank in the head. No amount of pleading, no amount of promises, and certainly no amount of struggle could’ve saved her that night. Despite his endless pleas, they shot the remaining weakness from his heart. And, for that, nothing on Earth could have saved any of his ‘brothers’. This final act was the very act that signed their death certificates. Every man in the field that night was murdered at the hands of Nikolay — each death worse than the last. And the last, well, that is a tale too gruesome to be told. They say the man who shot Nikolay’s sister still pays for his crimes today. His screams can still be heard throughout Russian soil.

Having to get away, somewhere where no one knows his name, he flees to Serpentia. There his new life begins. There he rises from his abyss to find a home. A home he chooses. A home he built for himself without having to break himself to do so. A home that leaves him irrevocably changed. Landing a job as a professional fighter at twenty eight, the ring is his new stomping grounds which allows him to punch and punch until his frustrations are released. It is there he finally sees the light, too. It’s the final round. One more strike at his opponent will win him the match. One more upper cut. One more fall. Then the belt would be his to claim. Yet, he missed it. He missed the fist that flies from his left side into his cheek and knocks him to the mat with a bright, intense light filling his vision. When he woke next, it’s hours later and with the discovery of his newly acquired powers. Powers that begin to enforce his dominance in his fights — inflicting such pain in his opponents that they can never hope to recover from it.

These powers are also what leads to him finding the heart he had long ago abandon. When things become dark, too dark to see, two people finally paint the darkness with color. First is she whose dark lipstick serves as a warning of danger to all; a tiny, fierce woman demanding him to be hired on as her bodyguard. With her, comes a man that turns his heart to gold. He finds his way back into the light when he meets these two, and it’s with these two he will always remain.

♟ Future ♟

plan one :: LET’S SEE WHO HATES BEST.

The Delaroix family and saints. They disgust him. They are poison and they have seeped into every crevice of his skin. Since gaining his powers, elevating himself to a higher state of being, there has been a hate inside of him boiling and swelling up. But, his arrival at Athos has led to the pot overflowing. Or, perhaps, he kicked it over himself and allowed its contents to spill all along their pristine marble floors. Now all he wants to do is light a match and set fire to the halls they reside in for his hate knows no bounds. His hate will be the fuel, the spark, the match, that rains hell fire upon the land. But, it will only come quietly in the night. It will come in the silence. It will come without warning, for those lifeless eyes have never revealed anything but cold malice to all who approach him. What they see will only be what any person sees. Something cold, something fierce, something dead. And those chilling blue eyes will be the last thing they see. He swears by it.

plan two :: HOLD ON TO THIS HEAVEN OF YOURS.

Catalina and Midus. Midus and Catalina. The two who saved his soul. To two that rose him from hell and brought him so painfully close to heaven’s grasp. He would be lost without them as they were the ones who compelled his heart to beat again. And how it beats for them. But, this is a dangerous love. This is a love that can so easily be taken from his grasps. He knows this, and the very thought brings a terror he has only ever known one other time in his life. It’s a terror that brings his own demise. For when the ice hears of it, it brings a familiar chill along bruised, scarred flesh and he can’t quite free himself from this patch of ice. So, he remains. Freezing. Lost. Holding himself back from getting too close sometimes out of fear of what that means; pain is all that has every come from his love. An unshakable pain. A pain he’ll be damned if he lets it leak onto either of them. So, while he so desperately wants to hold on, he doesn’t know if he can. He knows they are worth the reward. But, he is terrified of losing the last two things that give any hope to his fleeting humanity. To his heart that now beats with a ferocity for them.

plan three :: TOO EXHAUSTED TO EXPLAIN MY SOUL.

Broken. A restless ache. An endless pain gnawing on his soul. Like Nikolay, it has no mercy. It gets a thrill from tugging on his fears and pain for the simple reward of seeing him curl inward on himself. The past is a ravaging beast full up on his pain. It consumes and consumes while Nik carries on without delay. He can’t ignored this forever, though. One day this beast might eat him whole and there will no longer be hope. If only he’d talked about it. If only he’d find the person who shares his soul ( his past ) and can help him move on. While he knows Cat and Midus would offer up a thousand shoulders for him to let him burdens rest on, he can’t quite push himself to unload it on them. They don’t understand what it’s like to lose it all and have to become this thing he became when he joined the Bratva. This beast, this pain that resides within him, is something that can only be explained to a person who has lived the same life. Somebody whose pearly flesh is being chomped on by the same depraved beast.

♟ Characteristics ♟

Staunch, Disciplined, & Protective (+) :: If there is anything worth being grateful towards the Bratva for, it is the behavior they have instilled into him. They have made him staunch. Somebody so loyal that he would lay down his life for the few he has allowed in. Being anything but staunch in his loyalty to them doesn’t even cross his mind. With that, comes a discipline. An unceasing control over his actions and thoughts. Nikolay does and says what Nikolay wishes without any regrets as to what those might be. He is not prone to rash actions, but makes quick intelligent ones that get the job done. And, finally, he has become quite the protective person for three people in particular. The Bratva, albeit a cold mafia, gifts a man with the ability to kill without remorse, without mercy. It allows a man to see what is truly important in his life, and they were important. All three of them brought something to his life and any person who tries to take that away from him will end up regretting. No, they won’t regret it. There will be no time for regrets as he beats the insignificant life out of their eyes.

Broody, Cold-Hearted, & Combative (-) :: Devastating. A word often vocalized when somebody was to mention Nikolay. He was many things, but this all returns to one key thing. He was devastating. He was a cold-hearted man who lacked warmth when it comes to most things, but my god was he capable of filling any with a burn of lust if he so please. Because, while he may speak little, he preferring to remain closed off in nature, broody, the words descending from his beautifully curved mouth are spoken like poetry. They burn as wonderfully as a shot of whiskey. But, be careful of enjoying the thrill of that burn too much. He is a fickle man. One who can change on the drop of the dime. Nikolay iscombative. One who quickly turns pugnacious, eager to fight any who bring him even the slightest annoyance.

♟ Possible Relationships ♟

Catalina Aguilar :: Her Bodyguard.

Redemption. It could be found in her eyes, her touch, her lips. It was written all over her skin and he doesn’t hesitate to snatch it between cracked, calloused palms once she offers it like a ripe apple for the taking. For too long he craved the flames of hell to engulf him until death’s grasps finally choked him. But, then she appeared and there he stayed, suspended between heaven and hell, at her side. While bodyguard is a paltry way to describe them, it is what they say to any who question. For what they have is secret — is special. It is for them, and only them. He would lay down his life for her and she him, as they both would for Midus, too. For her he will do whatever, kill whomever, as a form of repayment for what she brings to his life. She is the reason behind their abrupt arrival to Athos, too. But, he cares little for having to do so since it means Catalina is safe. Free from any harm once more. He’d do it a hundred times over for her. There bond is sacred. Everlasting.

Freyja Volkova :: Comfort.

If he could’ve kept something for himself, it would’ve been her. The woman who burns like whiskey and tastes like every mistake he wants to make. She came into their life like a storm and such a devastation has never felt so heavenly. While she is persistent in her ensured distance, Nikolay keeps a hold on her. The light will always remain on for her — he hoping she will find the same home that he found with Catalina and Midus. For now, he is content to find comfort in the small things with Freyja. In their shared silence. In the shots of whiskey they throw back with ease. In their fierce need to keep Cat safe. In their shared pain neither can dare to mention, but both know lies just beneath the surface. Freyja brings a comfort to him and, one day, he hopes she’ll feel that with him, too. Some days he is almost convinced he can already seeing it bubbling deep down. Days like when she used her connections to free them from Serpentia and brought them to Athos.

Midus Goldberg  ( name ??? )  :: Compass.

Two points destined to touch. A touch that had to traverse many lands to happen. But, somehow they made the connection and it become a tie that cannot be broken. The arrival of Catalina in Nikolay’s life was soon followed Midus; a man with metaphors on his tongue and fortune at his fingertips. In the cold light of day one might label him a greedy son of a bitch, but Nikolay has always seen past that. Once the glitz and glam fade, there arises a smile that shines brighter than the sun. A smile that warms him, body and soul. This side of Midus, the true side only gifted to few, is something Nikolay would rather die than let go of. For once you discover it, it is like stumbling upon all the treasures in the world. All the gold in the world isn’t worth Midus, though. And while Midus may often stray, the image of him with someone else eating him up inside, Nikolay will always be there to lead him home. Nik would never forsake the one who turned his heart from stone to gold.

Delacroix Family :: Enemies.

Nikolay knew of them long before his arrival to Athos. Of the deaths they caused, and the schemes they play to prod and toy with the hearts of many in their kingdom. The family disgusts him with all their secrecy and their ill-fitted stage. The worst of it: humans pulling the strings of the saints. How ludicrous. These so called saints, these fighters, have succumbed to the mercy of those who are beneath them in power — human’s whose only power are the gold crowns on their heads. Midus can make a million of those for himself if he so wished to do so. The Delacroix’s, along with the saints, are beneath him in class and it would be a disservice not to have them all dethroned.

#memories. #Nikolay. #biography.

[aion-rsa]

The Walking Dead vs. Real-Life Survivalists: How to Prep for The Zombie Apocalypse

https://ift.tt/3cS4Tq8

According to a 2019 YouGov poll, 14% of Americans have a zombie apocalypse plan of some sort. Even the CDC provides zombie apocalypse advice, including having one gallon of water per person per day, stocking up on food, and choosing a rallying point for family members should everyone get separated in the mad rush for safety. That concept of preparedness has infiltrated popular culture like a walker in an unguarded camp thanks to The Walking Dead and other pieces of zombie media. Being ready for whatever life throws your way is no longer just for paranoid, reclusive mountain men. 

The survivors on The Walking Dead are from all walks of life, across a wide spectrum of ages, races, nationalities, and ability levels. As such, all could have benefitted from a bit of advice from experienced experts in the field of survival. So, Den of Geek reached out to a pair of preppers and asked them some questions about just how the various groups on The Walking Dead have fared in their quest to navigate the end of the world. 

A man based near Martensville, Saskatchewan who chooses to be known only as “Canadian Prepper” of the Canadian Prepper YouTube channel and Canadian Preparedness, sums it up succinctly. “I don’t think there’s one prepper who doesn’t know about The Walking Dead.” 

That’s an advantage preppers in our world have over their fictional counterparts. We know what zombies are, and we have ample opportunity to prepare for them. In the world of The Walking Dead, no one knew what a zombie was until they showed up, which took pretty much everyone in that world by surprise.

However, to Scott Hunt of Practical Preppers, those of us in the non-zombie world have good reason to be prepared for the worst-case scenario, whether it’s earthquakes, tornadoes, hurricanes, civil unrest, or one of the many more mundane emergencies encountered in the modern world. 

Getting Prepared

“As Benjamin Franklin once said, ‘by failing to prepare, you are preparing to fail,’” Hunt says.

Hunt holds a Masters of Science degree in mechanical engineering from Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute and takes surviving more seriously than your average person with a stocked cellar. Hunt and his family were featured on Season 1 of National Geographic’s Doomsday Preppers. He later became a consultant for the show. Now he is a sustainable living design engineer specializing in off-grid water and energy systems. His popular YouTube channel, Engineer775, allows him to, in his words, “help others prepare for the worst type of events and make them as sustainable as possible.”

Hunt’s focus is on solar power and water access solutions, but given his experience with prepping and homestead farming, he has a lot to say about just what mistakes the survivors on The Walking Dead have been making throughout the show’s run. 

The mistakes start, logically, at the very beginning of the show. 

“I think there were a lot of mistakes initially made during the outbreak. For one, hardly anyone living in the city had any sort of ‘preps’, and those living in rural areas only seemed to have basic things like a few canned goods, maybe a well, and a few arms to protect themselves with,” Hunt says. “I think having a simple bug-out bag would have saved a lot of people. If you are like many of those living in Atlanta in season 1, I would advise you to have a ‘bug-out plan’ and ‘bug-out bags’ for you and your family. It does seem like a scary thing to imagine, but we advise people to think ahead, always.” 

The Walker Threat

For Canadian Prepper, part of thinking ahead is being ready for problems before they happen. Detecting threats before they can detect you is the best form of operational security in the zombie apocalypse. 

“Having a 24/7 lookout is the most important thing, being very vigilant with that and not wavering at all. If there is somebody who’s spying on you, they’re going to wait for one opportunity where you’re not paying attention.” 

Even if the threat is more walker-based, having a lookout is still of crucial importance. 

“You’re talking about a bunch of reanimated corpses who could come at any time. There’s no time that they’re going to prefer to attack. It’s just going to be whenever,” Canadian Prepper says.

Canadian Prepper emphasizes the concept of preemptive security, in addition to the active lookout. 

“Almost every single time it seems like the zombies surprise people. It’s like, do you guys realize you can just get some string and some tin cans? As the survivors evolve, you’d think that they would develop better perimeter alarm systems whereby they would be notified if there was a potential threat on the horizon.”

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As important as the lack of forethought, for Hunt, is a lack of bodies on the line. If you want to move into a fortified town, you have to have the security needed to keep the town safe. This isn’t an individual camp problem, but like the lack of tripwires and lookouts, a series-long issue. 

“The communities the main groups choose to settle in have all had issues with visibility, security, and manpower. It seems like every compound they encountered, there were never enough people to keep it safe from marauders or walkers,” Hunt says. “If you are taking over an abandoned compound, you must make sure you can secure it.”

The People Problem

Those big walled compounds, like Alexandria and Hilltop, have a lot of natural advantages, but they have one huge problem: they’re big targets. However, Canadian Prepper feels that having a big target, if properly defended, isn’t necessarily a negative in terms of a group’s survival chances. 

“You could take the Oceanside approach where you hide out in the woods, but your development is going to be arrested to a certain level. People are still going to be able to find you. A couple years into that universe, people are going to get a good nose for things. It’s not going to be a bunch of city slickers walking around. It’s going to be a bunch of seasoned survivors who are going to be able to smell out a community. You’re not going to be able to hide that.” 

Hunt adds: “You do not have a lot of choices when you are looking at the complete fall of humanity. A gated community has an advantage over the walkers and human threats. It is the more realistic and safer choice when your options are limited.” 

However, certain characters held onto their hope a little too firmly for Hunt’s taste. 

“I would tell Hershel to not lock up the walkers in his barn! I know he did this out of a hope that a cure would be found, but in his hopefulness, he ended up endangering the whole compound and forcing everyone to leave the safety and security of the farm. We believe if they were able to stay at the farm, a lot of loss would have been avoided. It is best in an apocalyptic scenario to lay low and stay where it is safe as long as possible.”

The loss of the farm meant a lot of disadvantages for Rick and company. The group lost a secure, isolated place with arable farmland, a supply of water, fences and wires, and good concealment from those that might prey on their weakness. That loss of food production, and the food storage when the farm went up in flames, brings Hunt back to the most important resource in the post-apocalypse, food. Specifically, the lack of it. 

“One of the least realistic things was the lack of starvation mentioned throughout the show,” Hunt says. “This might be an extremely unpopular opinion, but the fact that Rick held Negan as a prisoner, instead of using him as food, is unrealistic when you are looking at a worst-case scenario. Obviously, it is unethical to starve the actors, but I feel like it was very unrealistic to not show the struggle of just feeding the characters every day and the lack of supplies they would have encountered since they had no food storage or a sustainable way to grow food for very long. Not to mention, the walkers had completely depleted the wildlife in the area, so that was another issue for our characters. Short answer: we don’t totally blame the compound of cannibals.”

The true threat to any community in this world isn’t really the walkers, but people like the cannibals of Terminus. Humankind, according to Hunt, would quickly be the most dangerous opponent for Rick and his team to square off against once they learn the ways of handling walkers. “The show did a great job of transitioning into the man versus man struggle; the show steers away from walkers being the main threat to other humans being more of a concern. This is very realistic in any apocalyptic scenario.” 

Good Fences Make Good Neighbors

For Canadian Prepper, the best defense for preserving the future of humanity from lawlessness and brutality is to look backwards. “I would go for an approach which is tried and true throughout history: making a castle. All castles have lines of sight. They’re not pressed up against forests for a reason. They’re surrounded by plains so that you can see threats coming from a great distance. The threats are going to come, but at least in that position you’re going to be able to fortify and defend. You don’t want to give a threat cover, and that’s exactly what you would do if you were smack-dab in the middle of a forest. Yes, you are concealed, but at the same time, a forest fire could take out your whole community.”

However, the human threat, according to the Practical Preppers team, wouldn’t be nearly as charismatic in reality. 

“It is easy to throw metaphorical stones at the characters from the comfort of our living room couches, but we still think this is something worth noting. We were surprised that no one had challenged characters like The Governor before he gained too much power and became extremely dangerous.” 

That shift from strongman leadership to democracy is a positive one for the survival of humanity, according to Canadian Prepper. 

“I noticed that in the earlier phases of collapse, it’s a very dictatorial society. It’s the Ricktatorship, where one guy is kind of the main leader. Like The Governor or the gangs, there was always this centralized leadership, but as time goes on, groups become more democratic, and you see that happen across various communities. Negan was kind of the last authoritarian ruler: democracy prevails, that whole liberty wins subtext. You could say there were some political undertones there, because I do think that democratic societies are more evolved.”

Hope For Tomorrow

Perhaps one of the reasons why The Governor was never challenged was because, quite frankly, he was one of the better politicians left after the fall of humanity. Like Rick at the prison, or Deanna Monroe in Alexandria, or King Ezekiel at the Kingdom, The Governor was someone people could rally around because he offered the the most important thing after the apocalypse second only to food: hope. A strong, charismatic, forceful leader is always going to be easier to follow than a government by committee, particularly when hope is in short supply. 

“The most realistic thing The Walking Dead characters did worth praising was that all the survivors mentally were able to see hope in a hopeless situation,” says Hunt. “I feel like some of us would have thrown in the towel the second the CDC blew up. It seems like throughout the show, our stronger main characters always had something to cling to. Rick still had faith in humanity, Gabriel had faith in God, and Carol had faith in Rick and Daryl.” 

Throughout The Walking Dead, the show’s survivors have continued to evolve, from a rag-tag group of argumentative people camping around a recreational vehicle to a full community with agriculture, democracy, and education. People are not only surviving in this universe, but thriving. The days of picking over the ruins of the old world for survival are over; a new world is dawning, and the hard work of the survivors has created it. 

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

“The fate of the species is in your hands,” Canadian Prepper concludes. “You’re not just surviving for yourself. The human race is depending on your success.”

The post The Walking Dead vs. Real-Life Survivalists: How to Prep for The Zombie Apocalypse appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3cNSC5Z

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

[the-vdl]

Count Dracula Vs Frankenstein's Monster

          Frankenstein's Monster shambled through the streets of Arkham. It was a dreary night. He had traveled great lengths to escape his maker and live a peaceful life. Hopeful this town could provide that life. Suddenly an old man with greying hair wearing fine clothes emerged from an ally. He turned to the monster, his lips covered in something red. He whipped the liquid from his lips approaching the monster, who could only hope it was some kind of whine.

        "You are an interesting one aren't you?" The man said. The creature stepped back, eyeing up the man nervously. 

       "I am but a traveler," he said. The man smirked, not ceasing his approach

          "We both know that to not be true," he said. The monsters foot fell upon a broken piece of a window, shattering it. He glanced down at the shards, noticing the man before he had no reflection. Could he be like him? Could this world be full of other misunderstood, and pitiable beings who he could relate to? No, this man gave him a sickening feeling. Something truly wasn't right about him.

       "What form of abomination are you?" The creature asked. The man smile twisted into a scowl, exposing two pointed fangs.

      "I am no abomination, I am Dracula" the man hissed before lunging at Frankenstein's monster

       FIGHT!!!

      The creature slammed his fist into the back of the man leaping at him, sending the vampire crashing into the ground. Dracula rolled out of the way as the monsters first slammed into the pavement. 

        "I do not wish for any conflict, I've had my fill of violence long ago," the creature said somberly. His vampiric foe took no note of this and lunged again. This time the monster countered with a sloppy smack sending the vampire sprawling on the ground, but Dracula quickly scampered to his feet, hissing at his prey. Suddenly the vampire's shape twisted and contorted. He fell to all fours as his snout elongated and his legs bent. Dark fur emerged from him as his body reshaped. There, standing where Dracula once stood was a snarling wolf. 

         "What?" The creature exclaimed as the wolf let at him. Frankenstein's Monster caught the beast, but was still knocked to the ground. The wolf snapped at the creature, it's maw only inches away from its preys face. As it kicked, one of its claws cut into the creature. The Monster roared in pain, throwing the wolf off him. Dracula skidded across the street before reverting to his vampiric form. He scoffed as The Monster got to his feet. The vampire's eyes glowed red, and a mischief of rats emerged from an alleyway, swarming the creature, quickly climbing on top of him. Frankenstein's Monster screamed in agony as hundreds of tiny teeth sank into him. Soon the scream of pain became an unearthly roar of anger. He slammed his fist into the wall next to him, cracking it, and crushing the rats on his hand. The rest of the rodents dropped to the ground, and fled in one big black and brown wave. The Monster charged at Dracula throwing a powerful punch, but the vampire swiftly shifted into a bat, flying just out of his attackers reach. Fog flooded the street, and rain started to pour as Dracula retook his true form, seeming to float off the ground.

      "This grows tiresome" he snarled. The creature ripped a chunk of bricks from the building and flung it at the vampire, who tried to dodge, but whose face was still grazed by the projectile. Dracula growled in pain, blood dripping down his face. He looked back only to find that The Monster had leaped into the air, and was plummeting towards him. Just the creatures first would have crushed him, the vampire became a fine mist. There was a loud crash as Frankenstein's Monster clenched hand slammed into the road, cracking the concert. Dracula appeared behind his prey, and The Monster cried in pain as the vampire sank its teeth into his neck. The creature flailed about and managed to knock Dracula off him. This time however the vampire landed gracefully.

        "You call me an abomination, but dead men's blood flows through your veins," Dracula said wiping the blood from his mouth. The Monster let loose a terrifying bellow before charging forward. He swung angrily, but the vampire turned to mist, easily avoiding the attack. Dracula reformed at the creature's side, slicing him across the arm with his claws. The Monster stumbled backward, falling against a wall, light-headed from bloodloss, and Dracula calmly walked to him preparing to finish his prey.

        "A monstrosity such as yourself never stood a chance against something such as myself," he said before lunging forward. One final burst of anger flushed through Frankenstein's Monster's body, and he caught the vampire by his wrist. Dracula gave the towering creature a surprised look. The creature roared in anger, ripping Dracula's arms from their sockets. The vampire stumbled backward screaming in agony as crimson blood gushed onto the street. With a graceless flail, The Monster slammed Dracula's arm into its owner's chin, snapping the vampire's neck. Dracula's howls were reduced to gurgles and grunts. 

         "I have had enough of you fowl demon," the creature said dropping the arms. The Monster dug his fingers into the vampire's chest, easily smashing through the rib cage, and piercing the heart. With his free hand, he grabbed Dracula's head, and with one yank, ripped it from his body. The vampires head hit the ground, before it, and the rest of its body turned to dust.

        "It," Frankenstein's Monster said tiredly. "It is done"

    KO

    This fight was by far one of our closest ones. Dracula had plenty of advantages. For one his shapeshifting abilities gave him a clear edge in agility, and versatility and his mind-controlling abilities allowed him to summon aid. But what gave Frank's Meat Baby the win was his raw strength. Dracula was as strong as 20 men giving him about 17792.89 newtons of force at his disposal, while The Monsters claim of being able to rip a man's libs off gives him around 106757.32 newtons of force, more than five times more than that of Dracula! Dracula also was injured by a shovel to the head so we know he'd be vulnerable to an attack so it was all a matter of landing a solid hit for Frank's Meat Baby. Dracula's abilities definitely made it difficult, but he does have a habit of getting hit when facing opponents one on one. Now couldn't Dracula hypnotize The Monster or just slowly wear him down with hit and run tactics? Well, the hypnosis is straight out. Dracula can't control intelligent beings on the spot. He has to repeatedly feed off of them to gain control over them like with Lucy Westenra, and even with things he can easily control like rats, he can lose control if their frightened or startled. The hit and run tactics may seem advantages to the vampire at first, but mind you he tends to suffer damage from completely human opponents, it wouldn't take too long for a superhuman opponent to land a hit. And even if Dracula decided to drag out the fight over a matter of days, he would be doing so against an extremely intelligent adversary that needs not sleep or fear the sun. This brings us to our next category, intelligence. Dracula is definitely far more experienced and educated, but Frank's Meat Baby seems to have him beat in natural intelligence. Remember he was able to learn to not only speak but speak more sophisticatedly than most people in a matter of months with only a few books and a family to spy on. The Monster was far better suited to adapting to his foe than the other way around. In the end, Dracula put up one Helsing of a fight, but the Victor was Frankenstein's Monster 

     Next Time on Fictional Fracas! Fantasy is home to many magical creatures, but these two brutish races prove that enough raw might can keep up with all that supernatural bullshitery! Urgels Vs Trollocs! 

#vs debating #count dracula #dracula #fictional fracas #frankinstein's monster #frankinstein #horror #writeblr #writblr #writing #writer

[alwayskeepfaith93-blog]

The Night Creatures

The Night Creatures

Paige Darnold

Game Title

The Night Creatures

Genre

Science-Fiction / Fantasy

Concept

There are creatures involved into the game that have are mysterious and strictly observed solely at night.

Play Mechanic

Player must fight off the night creatures and use some for the help of survival throughout the game.

Plot Summary

Player starts out on a deserted island with no other sign of life other than the few animals that may be lingering around the trees. The player will come into contact and face some vicious creatures that roam around at night time and few creatures will come out around daytime can help advance the player through the game with the options that come along with them. The key is survival for the player to find a way off the island without getting killed off by one of the night creatures.

Platforms

Game is available for XBOX & PS4

Target Audience

The game rating will be PG-13.

Competition

This game could be compared to Pokemon, but a more aggressive type of game. Also, it is more geared towards older teens and young adults. For the fact that the creatures involved in the game are either helping or hurting the chances of survival for the player as does Pokemon does in a way.

ITEMS AND EQUIPMENT

Key Item 1: The one major item that is key for player is a spear that is found around the same area that the player begins. It is main protection in the very beginning and can be upgraded throughout the game to give the player more points.

Short Description:There are different areas in the setting that offers food, shelter and materials to help build more weapons for protection. There will be some text when clicking on certain items that explain what the item is used for. There also may be some communication between the player and the different creatures they will come into contact with.

Function: The spear will be used a basic instrument for protection and to help build shelter when needed. This spear will be kept at the players side and can be draw at a moment’s notice for the player.

Appearance: It is a small spear, almost pre-historic looking. It has a rope tied a round the base of the silver rock based spear keeping it all tied together. It almost looks like a native American spear.

Lore:This spear come from a history of defying all odds for it’s holder. Whoever possesses the spear in their hands, has the strength and force that is incomparable to anything ever known. The spear is connected to fighting against an entire army of men. With this spear, any person will have the capability of defeating most anything, but only if they truly believe in it’s power. If the person holding the spear doesn’t truly believe in the power of the spear, it will render the spear completely useless.

CHARACTER PROFILES

Player Character Profile:David James Brenneman

Purpose:He is leader of the nightly creatures that are named the most dangerous. He commands them to do what he wants to anyone he wants. He is never seen until the final battle, he only sends his terrifying creatures to each building. As each battle passes, the progression of aggression advances for each creature.

Lore:David was left in the same position as player one except for the fact that he did not find his way off the island. He had been wounded by one of the nightly creatures in one of the battles so he was forced to stay on the island until he healed. In the meantime, he found a connection with some of the creatures that left them inseparable. David bonded closely with then nightly creatures to the point that they recognized him as their leader or alpha.

Appearance:He is a rough looking older man, mid-50’s. His hair drapes down to his shoulders and has a slight wave as it curls down around his collarbone. There are flecks of gray scattered throughout his beard that hangs down to the middle of his chest. He is wrapped around in what can only look like to be some kind of fur from one of their creatures that lurks around the daylight. He has more fur covering both of his legs and a makeshift back pack draped around his shoulder to carry his weapons.

Barks

·   Tagline/Idle Bark:“You better watch out… they are sneaking little things.”

·   Alert: “Well, look what I’ve found… another worthy opponent. Let’s battle.”

·   SuccessBark: “Congrats! You’ve beaten [insert creature name]. Keep exploring!”

·   Failure Bark:“Fail. [Your creature dies]. It is now up to you to fight against [the other creature].” Or Fail [You and your creature have died]. Maybe next time.”

LEVELS AND LOCATIONS

Description of the World: It is a distant island that is far far away from any civilization. There are no other people other than the main character and the opposing character. This deserted island is covered in palm trees, eucalyptus trees, jacaranda trees, koa trees and various other plant life that surrounds the entire island. White sand covers the edges of the island as it reaches out onto the bright blue waves that crash into the surrounding beaches. No one life on the island except for the two main characters and the various creatures that inhabit the land.

Major Location 1: “The Sacred Temple Ruins” This area is a small section of the island that separated from the rest of the island. There are chunks of concrete blocks left form what was the temple from the original civilization that lived there before the wild nightly creatures killed them all off. This location is where the player is able to hideout, recharge or work in a shop to craft more supplies.

Short Description:It is a far off relatively small island with nowhere even close enough to see the island.

Appearance:This game’s duration will go through night and day, in an average way that it would on an island (very bright days and extremely dark nights). White sandy beaches surround the darkened forest. Palm trees, eucalyptus trees, jacaranda trees, koa trees and various other plant life that surrounds the entire island. There are few flowers that grow around the island as well; rose plumeria, bird of paradise, pikake, and shimmering yellow hibiscus. The trees wave in the island breeze and shine brightly in the sunlight. The bright colors stand out immensely against the seafoam teal water that surrounds it.

Contents:This island is full of various creatures that will help or harm that characters of the game depending on what they are. There are parts and pieces of the game that will help the character get food and materials for weapons or shelter. There are certain creatures that get featured that are more aggressive and will have to battle to get past the creature. There are also creatures that can be used for battles against the more aggressive ones. During the battle, if the creatures that are there to aid the character loses the character themselves has to fight the aggressive creature and you will lose that creature. If your creature does defeat the more aggressive creature there is an opportunity to gain that creatures trust and have them come to your aid when needed or leave them for dead. As each battle is finished the character will continue onto their journey of survival and finding a way off the island until they reach the next battle. The final battle will be against the leader of the night creatures (David). Defeating him and all of his creatures will help the main character to their escape off the island. David knows the location of the boat to get off the island.

Significance:As the main character ventures throughout the island he will come across various different creatures. As he passes through certain phases of the island they will interact with more aggressive creature. The further the character makes across the island, the more aggressive the creatures. There are significant areas that are indicated what area has what creature in it, but not their information such as; how aggressive, power, or moves.

Lore: This island was inhabited by a group of people who were indigenous to the island. There were few creatures that lived on the island, but they were the mild tempered ones (daylight creatures). The people and the creatures got along fairly well; each would keep their distance from one another, not crossing any lines or boundaries. The people would hunt some of the creatures for goods that they might have needed, never over doing it. The people wouldn’t use the creatures for food, but rather protection and sometimes clothing. This was until a newcomer to the community came onto a boat with a creature of his own. This creature was one of the more aggressive ones that come onto the island. The young man was welcomed into the community and allowed him to join into their community as much as he could. His creature began to interact with the other creatures on the island, breeding with them. Eventually the aggressive, night creatures were created. They began stalking the people on the island, but only attacking at night. That was where they would blend in the most. The night creatures began picking people off one by one until there were only a few left and the newcomer. The young man’s creature hesitated to attack him, that was until it saw him attacking and killing off a few of the other creatures it had created. It was then that the night creatures had completely taken over the island; leaving the daylight creatures to hide away in fear of being killed. There were no other humans to come until the land until David, he washed up on shore from a sinking ship nearby and then of course the main character (player).

CUTSCENE:The player reaches the end of a secret tunnel after escaping from one of more aggressive creatures sent from David to try to stop him from reaching the final battle. As the player reaches the end of the tunnel it leads them to the base of a volcano with a small path that leads up the side of the volcano. The player starts to walk towards path to try to faster path to David when the player is ambushed by a group of nightly creatures that circle all around him. He is faced with a decision, either fight off all of these creatures or find a way to escape and get around all the creatures.

[evangelineartemiasamos]

Red Queen Fan Fiction Black Storm Extra: Harvest Moon part I

as I’ve mentioned in this post, this is the continuation of The Fitter.

Find this on wattpad

info dump on original characters you will need this I guess.

part I

part II

part III

part IV

part V

part VI

part VII

part VIII

part IX

part X

part XI

part XII

part XIII

part XIV

part XV

part XVI

part XVII

part XVIII

part XIX

part XX

I've put this piece together finally. I've tried to include some canon characters to make it make relatable, but it's mostly about my original characters. I'll write a second part that will go to the really dark places of Cassie’s heart. A great literary classic is referred to at some points and if you know the book, you might guess which one.

I promise you, no King’s Cage spoilers in here.

Cassandra POV

I've been called many names. I prefer Queen of Limbs, for the sheer audacity of it, but I remember the other ones very well too.

Commoner. Bastard. Bitch. Sometimes even worse names.

There are still people who call me those names, but I smile and shrug them off nowadays, gestures I've learned form my Mother early on. Be stoic or smile. I know better than to be offended by things that are true, I remind myself. I don't have to be ashamed. The power is with me, not them. They can't hurt me, they can't make me scared, and I've been beyond fear and intimidation for a long time.

I am afraid of nothing.

The reason for this is simple: Shit has happened to me, too often and too bad, and yet I have survived and persisted. Most of these unsavoury experiences were my own damn faults, rooted in several bad decisions I've made again and again. Besides that one event, of course, but that's an entirely different story.

Now I look at Mare Barrow, fractured and taking all the blame in the world on herself and I wonder if we should share our stories to determine the not-winner in making bad decisions. I waive the thought with a smirk. That would be just another dangerous idea of mine. "Give her some chance of socializing, Miss Griffey," the king has told me, adressing me like commoner and not as an officer of his, as usual. But the longer I spend time with her, the harder it becomes not to see myself in her. Our wounds may be different, but they are still present. Invisible to those who've never felt them, but festering if ignored and untreated.

She has given me other names - Monster, beast, dog. I'm not injured, as those are other true facts, and I prefer people to be scared of me.

I can't hate such a person as Mare Barrow. I can't bring myself to hate any Reds, not when it's Silvers who have marginalized and ridiculed me half my life. Though one Red was just like them, or even worse.

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

Samson Merandus waits a day before he storms into my room at night, grinning. I only turn my head on his entry, saying nothing. "You've promised me a bout, Cassandra," he drones eventually.

"In here?" I tease. "Hmm, what kind of bout do you have in mind, I wonder?" I know he's angry about me dragging him out of Barrow's cage, despite the royal order to keep him out of her head. But he doesn't admit it. Instead, he takes it out on me who has defeated him numerous times at our First Friday duels. It's a good training, for both of us, but I'm not sure the audience can gather much from our matches that take place mostly in out minds. Who gains control? Who strikes first? Who can block the opponent better? Samson can't make me use my ability according to his wishes which gives me an advantage, but he can make me freeze nonetheless, hoping to use my weapons against me and letting me sink into my own nightmares.

But I don't have nightmares, not anymore. And I won't ever me afraid of myself.

"Interesting that you bring this up, Cassandra," Samson says, coming closer. He touches a tress of my hair and I shudder in disgust. That's not his place. I spin around, shoving him back so fast that he almost drops on his butt.

I tilt my head. "If you insist."

Our minds clash like rain in a storm, spiralling in my head, searching for my fears and wishes. I show him what he wants to see, facts that he's known for a long time, that make him believe his toxic desire for me has any hope for fulfillment. I don't try to use my ability on him, that close to my mind he would probably notice it. Instead, I kick into his stomach and sent him flying. But I've been too slow tonight. He manages to gain control of my body as I rotate, erasing the next seconds from my memory. I hear myself groan and I find myself beneath him, pinned on my bed. He laughs.

"What about another kind of bout?" he sneers.

My eyes narrow. "No."

"But Cassandra, I know -"

"You don't want me. Not for real. You're ashamed of desiring me, because the whole court would laugh at you if you were to 'love' the barren commoner girl. Instead you want to vanquish me, making me your puppet and your harlot, to show that all your prior losses were intentional. You can't stop seeking me out, not while I am the better of the two of us, not when I've shared a bed with so many other men, who you deem lesser that yourself."

"I dare you," he threatens, but it means nothing to me.

"I could kill you in a second, and you know it." I manage to shrug despite my fixed position. My mind attacks his body, stinging into five different, sensitive places. He grimaces, and I cackle. "What? Don't tell you are afraid of me? You know what that means." His grip lessens, and with another wave of power and a shove with my knee, he gets off me, even taking a few steps back.

"Oh my," I purr, "How can you ever defeat me if you fear me? All you have against me are my own fears, and well. I don't have any." I shake my head as he regains his composure.

"Too bad the king has so much use for you. I'd love to see your dying face," I gloat.

I see a vein twitching on his brow. "I will get to Barrow, sooner or later. Don't think you can command me," he exclaims, trying to dodge the discussion we've had a moment ago. He slams the door even louder than upon entering.

I sigh, sinking to my knees. I brush over the new wrinkles in my dress. No reason not to go to the party as planned. Even though they always feel lonely and boring, with Firebird away at Corvium, and no boyfriend to attend it with me. Lucas Samos has been the last one. I broke up with him in June, and now he is dead. I mourn his demise. At least he shouldn't have died with heartache, even though my feelings for him never equaled his for me. And maybe I would've been able to protect him from the dangerous company of Mare Barrow. But I'm not any better, am I? I cannot but feel impressed my her.

I command the Lightning Girl out of my head and look at Mother's portrait on the wall, painted by my brother Roman. He's better than all those jerks at court, myself included. He has an artist's soul, and he uses his seer ability to create things. Such as this picture, capturing our mother not in her beautiful youth, or her arrogant glory, but in her frustration, sinking down in her chair behind her desk, her face fallen and frowning. It's one of the truest and most beautiful things I've ever seen, at least in Whitefire Palace.

I shake my head and rise. I walk to the mirror, combing though my disheveled hair and look into my mismatched eyes, black and silver, contemplating my features. Cattish, angular, and pale, so unlike anyone else in my family. They remind everyone that I am not like my mother and brothers, that I'm not a noble but a mistake with mud-coloured hair. I've heard a lot of gossip and insults directed at me, some people have even made up the dirtiest rumours about who might be my father, although our similar appearance belies all those ideas instantly. Naturally, those Silvers have never laid eyes on my father, a commoner musician. Even though we meet rarely, I listen to his songs, to forget those nonsense I hear from the courtiers, which I will certainly encounter on this evening.

Before I turn away, I throw a glance at the sentinel's masklike helmet resting on my vanity. It reflects my features almost as clearly as the mirror. I smile grimly. I've realized my decision to join the sentinels wasn't a good idea the moment I've held the helmet in my hands for the first time. I have to wear that mask to turn myself into a faceless, anonymous threat. I've guessed that made sense, but I've learned better quickly. It's not about being a terror to eventual enemies to the throne, this is about the sentinels themselves, about me and my very own existence.

The mask is to hide my face and my true identity. It is to veil my birth and who I am. A sentinel is a puppet on strings and the idea fills me disgust, now and then. I've swallowed my resentment time and time again, to become the soldier the king wants, since I've been thirteen. My ability was developing quicker than usual, and the training as a royal guard seemed like the most logical way to lift me up from my commoner status.

My powers had shown themselves early, when I was five years old. That might have been the nail in my coffin. Despite the Arven diviner, an old man able the determine a Silver's ability, who had proclaimed me a telky as a baby, my mother must have continued to hope that I'd be like her, a shadow. Inheritance of the maternal talent wasn't that rare in her bloodline. I would still have been a bastard, but a noble one, a daughter bearing the name of House Haven. But I was a commoner telky like my dad, to be forever belittled for that. So be it. That didn't make me a failure by itself. I noticed that though I was weaker than the noble telkies, I was the better fighter in all other aspects. Because they were all idiots. While I developed the most subtle control of my ability and learned everything about the human body to kill and hurt with few strikes, the scions of House Provos had no fucking idea how to employ their ability in the most effective way. They made a huge show out of it instead. I could still laugh at them. They didn't use weapons, or the objects around them, but their minds alone. They heaved their oppenents into the air, expecting the confusing lack of gravity to be startling enough to make them yield. As if.

I've honed my mind and my body into fatal weapons. Any matter owned allegiance to me. I am the Queen of Limbs and I've obtained that nom du guerre with sweat, blood and more broken bones than I can count. Bones of me and others. I've faced the goddess of death and survived.

Though my military career would have been only part of the plan. The easiest way would have been to get some noble to marry me, so I'd give birth to his heir, and possibly have a child with my own ability. My mother would go begging to the king to legitimate me and I would become the foundress of the High House Griffey.

What an awfully naive dream.

By now, I appreciate the impossibility of that ever happening, of being barren instead of a broodmare. I had to find my worth within myself, in my strength, my ability and my perseverance. Through my compassion and blatant ignorance of the opinion of others. I am the better me this way. And the man I love can't have children with me anyway. A Red and a Silver can't have children together, so it's said, and it isn't like such relationships are accepted in the Nortan court. That's what I've thought, at least.

But honestly, I don't give a damn about that. I've done that once, and look where that has gotten me. I excel at making bad decisions.

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This is the story of Cassandra Griffey who wants her boyfriend back but who doesn't dare to tell him that as she was the one to break up with him because her mum has told her to and she has obliged - what a fool - and either way, he has been dating her cousin in the meantime - five years - while she, Cassandra, has, well, been fucking around with enough guys to be known as a harlot.

This sums it up quite accurately, It's what I tell myself when I doubtand wish. Not that it helps. Reminding myself of those facts only binds me tighter in an unbearable situation. While this also means to disregard numerous other, beautiful memories. Like love. Like talking to the person who knows your secrets because you don't have to hide them from him like from everyone else. Like not even needing to talk in some moments because our intimacy is bigger than our rifts. Breaking up with Sorata Ives left me in a abyss. But he's always, always on my mind. I am him, and I cannot live without my life. I cannot live without my soul.

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I've known Sorata Ives for as long as I can remember. Meaning, I saw him for the first time when I was about three years old, as were he and Lacey. She was still "Lacey" at that time, not "Firebird". Sorata was the one who came up with that. Back then, Mother and her brother Jin Ventos, Lacey's father, had brought Sorata's mother Mrs. Ives to Jin's mansion. Jin and Mother have spent a lot of time together in our childhoods, as Jin's wife had just died and the idea of letting their daughters grow up together seemed more than merely practical. Which is was, as my cousin and I were fast friends, as we are until now, despite all the strains challenging our connection.

When she was little, Lacey looked even more like a bird, with her aquiline nose, her delicate limbs, and her black hair shimmering like unruly feathers in flight. Of course she sang back then, too, as she always had. Her father thought music was the right way to distract her from her mother's demise, and he and Mother recognized Mrs. Ives, whom they had seen performing in a high class etablishment, to be the perfect teacher. I guess that was true, but after a few years, Mrs. Ives gave less and less of her time to the Ventos', and started to cling to my mother. Something dark and strange connected them and they saw it in each other. Nowadays, Mrs. Ives follows Mother like a living shadow, a beautiful flower blooming at night. She appears like the most loyal servant and I wonder if there's more to that, as it's certainly not love.

But, back to the beginning. Soon, Mrs. Ives started to live with us in the Ventos country home, a Silver vacation far off from the cities but frequented by the high-and-mighty. The Red had brought her son along, of course.

He was just as little as Lacey and me. He should have stayed with the servants, for a ton of reasons. But he didn't. He looked at Lacey and me and smiled. Where we went, he came with us. He played what we played and we didn't ask questions, not as long as nobody else did. And they did not, which might have been to their chagrin in hindsight. Naturally, our nannies Ellen and Laura were more occupied with my disabled brother Hagen, unless we had any lessons of which Sorata didn't stay away either. Mother spent most of ther quality time with Roman, her eldest and obvious favourite, while giving me my cuddlings on an almost regular schedule. Not that I felt unloved by her. But I was still the outsider, like Sorata who clinged to me just like Lacey who had a desperate need for a friend.

I couldn't leave either to their own devices, I never could. And Sorata didn't let go of either of us. There were barely any other children, apart from my much older brothers, and those brought along by their Silver parents were usually way too old to bother with girls in our age. They probably didn't even notice, in their smugness of being deemed reasonable enough to accompany their parents to the conferences in Jin's hotel, that the daughters of the house were best friends with a Red boy.

But we had no idea that this wasn't the way for Silver children to grow up. We were cuddled and spoilt, and encouraged to seek hobbies and education instead of being broken like horses. I know now that neither my mother nor my uncle could stand harshness, even though they were strict in their own ways. Until I was nine years old, I saw Mother only on weekends or whenever she found the time to visit the country home. Much less I'd seen my father, removed from our home when I was six months old.

But my mother and my uncle were different nonetheless. They'd grown up with a mother suffering from manic-depression, and they were well aware of the difference between having power and feeling powerless, and the truth that you could be both at the same time. Even more so after my aunt had died.

People say that I'm just a mistake of my mother. But she has never made me feel that way. Whenever I've thought myself worthless, it's been my own insecurity, a state my mother is loath to encourage. She wants me to be happy. Thus, she merely smiled, an honest amusement for instance, when she observed us kids.

One day, I threw foliage into the air for Lacey to incite. I kept the fiery leaves afloat, surrounding her, so she truly looked like a burning bird in flight as she either sang or laughed, until Sorata stated the obvious.

"You're the Firebird," he said, in awe of our abilities, and the name stuck. Sorata and I called Lacey nothing else for a week, until our servants and single parents noticed this and agreed with smiles in their eyes.

Hagen had known of the name before, of course. That evening, he whispered to me to come closer. He brushed my arm as he said, "I could barely wait to start calling her Firebird, too." He was unable to see my bafflement, but he must have guessed. He shrugged and the amusement fell from his face. He was 14 then, and frustration ruled him. Still does. Some Silvers regarded him as less than a commoner, like a different kind of Red, but they still craved his ability, gazing into the dreams of people that showed him the past, present and, if he wished, the future. Only our mother gathered intelligence from him, apart from what he chose to tell us, his family and friends. As far as I knew, he didn't resent his ability itself. But it was what made him blind. Some part of his brain was different, the healers had claimed, the same part that created the visions of the usual Eagrie eyes. It was nothing they could handle, and I wasn't not sure that Hagen even wanted that on most days, as blindness was all he knew. Sometimes Mother blamed herself and Edward, Hagen's deceased father. It was known that shadows and eyes were complementary powers, like burners and nymphs. Powers that clashed, and their union created something new, though not to Hagen's benefit. But Mother would ruin anyone who dared to accuse her or insult her son.

He had to deal with his disabilty by himself, still. And he was loath to be treated like anyone less than we were. He laughed when he thought of his sister and cousin being best friends with a Red boy. Silver attitudes meant nothing to him, and I guessed his dreams revealed to him enough secrets to realize the cesspit the Nortan court truly was.

In hindsight, we lived in our very own paradise of rocks and valleys, of heath and hot springs. There was a wilderness inside of us that always craved for more, a yearning that could not be stilled by anything other that the purity and peace of nature itself and the lights we saw in each other.

That's nostalgia, of course. But I didn't forget the face of my visting uncle Henry when he saw Sorata and me, covered in dirt and scratches all over our bodies. Distaste. I forgot what we had done, not after my uncle scolded his brother and sister for their neglect of their daughters. His apprehension had to be based in fear, I think now, as Henry, a gay man, wasn't himself the epitome of Silver conformity. Jin and Mother just shrugged, in the end. No one told Mother what to do.

Yet soon came the time that Lacey, my brothers and I were required to accompany her to court, to gather the useful connections, that meant potential spouses, and proper friends in the meantime. As if those courtiers could be called friends. They never treated me as such, of course, and Firebird would not be friends with anyone but me or Sorata. To her, being a lady and the heir to her house meant turning her debut a fashion show. If the others nobles were superficial, she would be even more so, giving away nothing of herself. She was even better than Mother in that game of pretending and fake smiles.

Though it wasn't a game for Sorata and his mother. They worked as Mother's assistants in the secret service which she leaded in all but name as the department was naturally headed by the mindfucker Merandus Queen. They were lackeys, wearing a livery and Red fabrics to display their status. Any close contact with Sorata turned both him and me into targets. Me for sneers, him for punishments. I would've liked to distribute some punishments on my own, but that was for later.

I endured the pretends, the taunts and the lies for a few years, slowly realizing my ability was the only attribute I had to offer to promote myself. I saw other Silver children dragged of to the Lakelands war, the same arrogant little boys and girls who had hit me just a days ago, or the crown prince who was just a week older than me. Their bragging vanished from their faces the moment they recognized the significance of becoming soldiers. They would represent their familes, they would gather medals and victories and they were truly and utterly horrified by that prospect. They tried to hide it, but it was undeniable upon their return that they weren't children any longer. They had tasted blood for the first time. And so did I, in my twelth summer. It was Mother's glorious idea, a thrust far off from the known battle lines at the choke to stab the Lakelanders in their heartland.

"We could end this," she declared to me proudly and I knew what she meant. I hated it at court, yet I would not leave like a coward, or start living my estranged father. To be honest, I wanted power and strength, like all Silvers, if only to live by my own rules. I was twelve years old and promises of changing the world for good were all I wanted to hear.

"Then I will do as you command, Mum. I'll fight your battle."

What a fool I was.

Commentary:

These two gif capture Cassandra just perfectly.

That is the first part. The book I'm referring to is "Wuthering Heights". At first, I went for a fairy tale retelling with Lacey as Snow White and Cassandra as Cinderella falling in love with a stable boy instead of the prince, but after watching another terrible film adaptation of "Wuthering Heights", I realized that, verdammte Axt, Catherine, Heathcliff and Isabella are my own babies Cassie, Sorata and Firebird - to a part of course. Firebird is as Isabella should have been. Thus I started to make the references more obvious. And savage. I think I've stayed to true to a first person narrator by giving Cassandra such a unique voice shifting between elaborate and foul-mouthed expressions.

I hope you understand the story. Ask me if you don't get something, I love to talk. I struggled a lot with putting the parts together and finding the right tense at the right moments. Sorry that I use Lucas like that, but it helps me to insert canon characters instead of making everyone up.

@maudthebookeater @queenmareena @dewydrael @lilyharvord @redqueenfandom @the-little-lightning-queen

#red queen #red queen fan fiction #red queen fanfiction #black storm #cassandra griffey #original character #wuthering heights #harvest moon #king's cage fan fiction #queen of limbs #sorata ives #charlotte haven #lacey ventos #my fan fiction #angst #samson merandus