#+ she would love nothing more than to overthrow him for denying her of her birthright when he cast her out after her moms passing bc grief?

[thedeadthree]

agonizing over if ademarta should choose the mythic path of lich or aeon this fine evening! ah! 🥀😵‍💫

[jessjad]

Unexpected

Chapter 15 - Epiloge

Summary: After a Halloweenparty Y/N actually didn't want to got to, her life seems to be turned around. The reason is a very stubborn Supe that seems to have her in his visier. Is it just a coincidance or more?

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader

Word Count: 881

Warnings: none really, again some medical freedom

A/N: Here we are. The last chapter. Do we still remember the little secret Y/N had? Well, here comes the answer to that. All mistakes are mine. Enjoy!

My Masterlist Series Masterlist

5 Months later...

"You really don't need to come with me." Y/N said for the third time while she was putting on her coat.

She turned around to look back into her living space just to see Ben already standing there, waiting for her. He was wearing some black jeans, a dark green Henley, his most favorite boots and a very stubborn and determinate look on his face.

"I'm coming with." was all he said, his arms crossed infront of his chest.

One thing Y/N had learned in the last months was that the supe who didn't left her side anymore was a lot more work than she had thought. It was tough for him to get used to the new world he had woken up in. The technology, the new worldview of men and women. Y/N knew that he had felt lost.

After everything that has happened with Homelander on school side, mankind screamed for a change and the overthrow of Vought. Most people didn't want to be around supes anymore and they questioned if it was still necessary to have superhuman people on the loose. The discussion did not end, especially with recurring footage that the world should never have seen. Bloody, horrific splatter that showed how much the supes just did not care.

Everything Ben had lived for, worked for, was now the worst thing of all and he did not know what to do with it. The once most loved man had lost his worth and he just couldn't handle it. This drove even her to despair sometimes.

"Okay, okay." Y/N gave in.

Twenty minutes later they were sitting in Doctor Field's consulting room, waiting. Doctor Field was a specialist in DNA research and nuclear medicine. He was recommended to Y/N after she explained her new situation to her previous doctor. While Y/N sat quietly in one of the chairs, Ben paced around the room.

"Ben, can you please sit down?"

"Where the fuck is this mountebank?" Ben said, ignoring her question. "Back in my day they never left me fucking waiting."

He sounded annoyed, but Y/N heared that he was a little on edge too. And she could not blame him. She hadn't felt any different when she first told Ben about her appointment with Doctor Field. Of course he immediately wanted to know why. But she found it difficult to find the right words. By now, Y/N knew that he had an abandonment problem and it was difficult for her to know how he would react to this news.

So she explained to him that they had Alzheimer's in the family. After her grandma showed the first signs, Y/N's mum had herself tested, but nothing was found in her case. So Y/N had dared to take the test too, but her test came back positive. She had inherited the ApoE4 gene twice. Which meant she would most likely get sick. Ben then disappeared for three days.

"Sorry I kept you waiting." the door opened all of a sudden and startled both of them. "But now I'm here. So let's not waste any more time."

The doctor sat down behind his desk and opend up Y/N's file. Now Ben also sat down next to his woman. Eventhough he looked normal he couldn't deny that he was a little worried now. But only minimally.

"So? What are my results?" Y/N asked nervously, but doctor Field did not answer right away.

"To be honest, I've never seen anything like this before." Well, that did not really help. "Your original test results were several years ago now. So we repeated the tests using today's standards. Normally the results should not have changed much. But still... it's different in this case."

Y/N and Ben saw how his eyes drifted from one to the other.

"What the fuck does that mean?" Ben wanted to know.

Ben had asked Y/N almost the same question after he came back three days later. The argument that had ensued afterward because he had simply left Y/N alone and then acted as if it had never happened had ended in wild, hot sex and his word that he just had to get out, getting high and brake a few things. And Y/N believed him.

"The ApoE4 gene has... changed. There is a certain blueprint for every gene, but for you it looks different now. It has changed. The radioactive radiation you've been exposed to for so long seems to be affecting the gene."

"How?" Y/N asked surprised.

Did that mean, that there was still hope? With one quick look to Ben, she saw that he seemed to think the same thing.

"To fully determine that we need to make further tests." But now doctor Field was looking at Ben, not Y/N.

"No fucking way." Ben stared back.

"To fully understand what has happened here, we need to find out how the radioactive radiation affects you. You're a supe."

"Fuck off!" he shouted. "I'm not gonna let you do some tests on me like I'm a fucking lab rat."

"Ben..." Y/N tried to calm him down, but she knew it was uselss.

"No fucking way!"

And as the discussion continued, Y/N had to grin. No matter how this turned out, she wouldn't have it any other way.

A/N: This is it. I really liked these two. 🥹 Aaaand I left the ending open on purpose. Maybe I'll come back to them. 😊

Thanks to everyone who gave this story a try, reblogged or commented on it. It really meant a lot to me! 💜 And maybe we'll see eachother on my next story. 🤗

@lyarr24 @k-slla @leigh70 @deadlydivergentgirl @deans-spinster-witch

@chriszgirl92 @bitchykittenconnoisseur

[rpxgifs]

[ abigail cowen | she/her | 19 ]  rumor has it that ARIA CORDEAUX has been seen wandering around town. they are a WITCH/WEREWOLF who is one of the SURVIVORS. they are known to be DISPUTATIOUS but deep down they are MAGNANIMOUS. when it comes to the brewing conflict in new orleans they’re on the side of THE MASQUERADE.

name: aria nova cordeaux nickname: ari age: 19 birthday: september 12, 2009 species: witch/werewolf hybrid gender: cisfemale pronouns: she/her sexuality: bisexual hair color: red eye color: blue family:

grayson danes (father)

cordelia cordeaux (mother)

raven cordeaux (sister)

cameron cordeaux (uncle)

tara kenner (”aunt”)

casper kenner (cousin)

ember kenner (cousin)

wesley cordeaux (uncle)

sierra cordeaux (aunt)

maddox cordeaux (cousin)

kennedy cordeaux stefanie salvatore (cousin)

logan cordeaux (cousin)

riley cordeaux (cousin)

winter edelman (aunt)

chris edelman (uncle)

carter edelman (cousin)

juliana cordeaux (grandmother)

history:

Growing up in California, Aria’s life was anything but normal. She born to a werewolf father who was destined to be alpha and a witch mother who survived a crazed city with an even more crazed coven and had a witch/werewolf hybrid sister. But their parents tried their hardest to make sure that the girls grew up with as normal of a life as was possible. 

That was until they started to tap into their powers and really experiment with magic. Cordelia taught the girls as much as she could. But the two of them began excelling faster than she could teach. Aria put up one hell of a fight, wanting nothing more than to stay in her own little bubble in California with her family. She was happy, she was comfortable. But her parents insisted that it was the best thing for her, to be around other witches, to learn from the best. 

It was nice being around her cousins, seeing them more than once for a couple weeks in the summer. But that was about it. Aria studied enough to make it through her classes and fly under the radar of any overly concerned teachers. She was surviving. That was until the one night that Casper practically dragged her out of her bed, forcing her to socialize and go to a party. 

Aria was completely out of her element, staying away from the crowd, until a nice blonde witch came up to her and started making conversation. She had seen him in classes before, but she hadn’t talked to him. She barely knew is name. small talk didn’t come easily for the redhead. But for some reason, between the two of them, the conversation easily flowed. It was without a second thought that she was talking and laughing. 

From that night on, Aria was like a completely different person - a person that she hadn’t been in a long time. Not since she left California. Austin brought out the best in her. She began excelling in her classes, becoming stronger. But the world came crashing down around her that summer when she took a human life while surfing. It was an accident, one could argue that she wasn’t at fault. But it couldn’t be denied. Her curse was triggered. She was officially a hybrid. She feared that her transition every month would change her. She feared that it would scare Austin away. But each full moon, Austin was sat outside her cell and was there the next morning. 

Aria’s life was good. She was happy. She was powerful. And then she had a ring from the most perfect man who loved every bit of her, even the broken bits. She had everything she could have ever asked for. But, just as it had once before, when she truly began to feel happy and comfortable, the universe had other plans for her when her mother, her sister, and herself were sent away by Grayson in an attempt to save them from the fate that he was about to suffer when a group from his pack attempted to overthrow him as alpha and he subsequently lost his life. 

Though her family had settled in New Orleans, she was riddled with guilt for essentially leaving her father alone to die. She felt as if she could barely make it through day-to-day, let alone care about any sort of supernatural war going on around them. Her goal for every day was to get out of bed, to manage her grief. If she was able to do anything else, it was a win in her book. 

[vivacissimx]

I think it's interesting that there are three daenerys targaryens throughout history and each of them are presented as having airtight claims to the throne, in contrast to male heirs who do not. and that in all three cases, marriage is the solution proffered into order to make his claim legitimate through that of daenerys.

the first daenerys (daughter of jaehaerys & alysanne) is the firstborn child of the king & queen, replacing aerea (another girl claimant) as the heir. however, upon aemon's birth, it becomes clear that only jaehaerys sees her as the heir presumptive—in alysanne's view, she's the heir apparent, her claim unchanged by the birth of a brother.

“Daenerys is older,” she would remind His Grace. “She is first in line; she should be queen.” The king would never disagree, except to say, “She shall be queen, when she and Aemon marry. They will rule together, just as we have.”

the part they agree on is that daenerys will be the queen. of course, daenerys dies, then aemon dies, and nothing comes of it except a years long split between the two that sows the seeds of the dance

the next daenerys is born to aegon iv & naerys and, sandwiched between daeron "falseborn", daemon blackfyre, and baelor 'more martell than targaryen' breakspear (this is in living memory of the short-lived conquest of dorne, after aegon iv spent his reign stirring the same wounds, hence the heightened level of xenophobia of the time).

between them, the only person who actually has an unquestioned trueborn targaryen lineage is daenerys.

daemon blackfyre didn't "rise in rebellion when denied her" because there was almost a decade between her marriage and his attempt to overthrow daeron. rather, daemon used her claim to bolster his, promising an unimpeachable targaryen queen to legitimize his dynasty.

Daenerys was her name. She was sister to King Daeron the Good, and it was her marriage that made Dorne part of the Seven Kingdoms. The whole realm knew that the girl loved Daeron's bastard brother Daemon Blackfyre, and was loved by him in turn, but the king was wise enough to see that the good of thousands must come before the desires of two, even if those two were dear to him.

by paying daemon's dowry & arranging a marriage aligned with his interests for daenerys, daeron knew what he was protecting: his son's succession rights.

and then finally we have daenerys stormborn. daenerys and viserys are known to be trueborn targaryens, their claim threatens robert enough that he sends assassins after them, and then she hatches the dragons. her claim is rock solid.

"I have," the lad insisted. "Why should I go running to my aunt as if I were a beggar? My claim is better than her own. Let her come to me… in Westeros."

Franklyn Flowers laughed. "I like it. Sail west, not east. Leave the little queen to her olives and seat Prince Aegon upon the Iron Throne. The boy has stones, give him that."

The captain-general looked as if someone had slapped his face. "Has the sun curdled your brains, Flowers? We need the girl. We need the marriage. If Daenerys accepts our princeling and takes him for her consort, the Seven Kingdoms will do the same. Without her, the lords will only mock his claim and brand him a fraud and a pretender. And how do you propose to get to Westeros? You heard Lysono. There are no ships to be had."

young griff "has a stronger claim" legally speaking, but really only if he actually is who he says he is. even if he were to conquer westeros, there would always be questions following him.

so once again, daenerys's claim is the one that holds weight, the one that must be sealed through marriage to shoo away any pesky doubts.

this is ultimately why I believe that endgame Queen Daenerys is a strong contender. the first daenerys would have been queen, the second daenerys stitched together a realm, and the third daenerys is the culmination of both.

[harbingers-appointed]

Y0ur Dem0n King, Small info post

Doodles of the mans

So the DemonKing Yb Au is still in its baby stages so nothing is wholly set in stone yet! (Just started working on this idea 4 days ago haha) so some information may be reworked later since it is under development still.

You had a normal life until one day you had a near death experience leaving you in a comatose state. However in that moment HE felt something, he felt YOU. And HE had to have you for himself. His whole being needed your soul next to him, as if you were made for him-no- you were made for him. He was sure of it. Your very soul was dragged to hell and your consciousness awoke in HELL... unsure where you were as you were carted off to some Palace. You were to serve as a servant for the rest of eternity.

All that's was left was to court you. However, he didn't want you to panic, he couldn't have that. He had devised a most devious plan to gain your trust and eventually, You.

There would be different "routes" for this Au, so YB's plan would be different based on his Yn~ though, typically his only goal is to just have you and have you believe you and him are destined to be together. Why else would you be here, reading this?

Information on the Demons

-The Demons reside in a version of "Hell" with Yb being the King aka Devil. Until YOU- his love interest- is pulled into Hell, Yb is a very cold and calculating ruler who spends most of his time cooped up in his Palace.(until you come into his life that is) While he is the Orginal Devil, many of his subjects have doubt in them over whether he is still fit to rule. That absolute power that's gone unchecked for too long has corrupted him.(and maybe it has...) He needs you to be by his side forever by any costs. He has most of the same traits from Classic!Yb, but with a demonic twist and a bit more caution. He is more wise and patient~ He has been waiting so long for you after all.

-Lucy rules over all succubi and all sex demons. She reigns as a seemingly aloof leader, but is very skilled in manipulation and using her abilities and magic to seduce others. Lucy respects Yb, but has her own agenda... so who knows who's side she is truly on.

-Tk is a demon of knowledge and magic, works as a tactician for Yb but has their doubts on Yb and his ideals. Depending on who you focus your romantic interest in will determine how Tk acts. They try to be a friend of You in every route, though perhaps more depending on how you are.

-Don is the second in command under Yb. He leads large legions of demons and is known for his wit, but also his work ethic. He doesn't agree with how Yb is running things in Hell, and is plotting to overthrow him in secret. He doesn't think much of Lucy even though she has definitely tried to bed him on more than one occasion. Don is respected by many demons for his strength.

Fun little tidbits

-Demons horns can be very sensitive to touch~.

-Yb might be insecure about his height.

-Demon Don, if he grows to respect You, you become one of his greatest weaknesses. But he will deny feelings for you at all costs... He knows his place.

-Lucy will always help you out with useful sex tips and supplies. While she seems disinterested I'm your situation it Isn't hard to tell she listens more than you think.

-Tk tends to hold back on talking to you too much out of fear of Yb. They know more about his "plans" than they admit to you.

-All the Demons can change their size at will, but maintaining a larger form for long is difficult and impractical.

- Yb wants to throw you a... once in a life time celebration when you finally take his hand.

-Demon Don typically has his scleras in his more demonic monstrous form (darkened)

-Yb has different magic that is including, but not limited to; controlliny blue flames, telekinesis, telepathy/not mind reading/, manipulating souls.

-demon tails are also very sensitive, but they can also be used like an extra appendage in some cases. Such as holding objects, stroking, touching... wrapping around things~♡

Alright

That's everything for now :)

I am sure I will have some more solid information soon! But here is the general idea for right now.

If you have any questions my asks are open!

I tag all my DemonKing Yb stuff with the tag #DemonKingYbAu

[sansxfuckyou]

Chilled to the bone

(@maxthehecker you gets a fic handmade just for you, note that I'm just fucking around and seeing if you like it cause I had no clue what exactly to write for you)

A king of ghosts with a soul colder than Canada during January?

No, that definitely was not Danny.

He was much more laidback, a chill guy if I'm being honest, still a king, but more worried about keeping his friends as friends.

But the chances of him fitting that description were getting realer by the second.

"Hey wait up!" Danny called out to Sam and Tucker who were walking to school, Danny trying to catch his breath as he ran up to them, he never knew how much 'king shit' would take out him.

"Why should we?" Sam asked, gait steady.

"Cause, cause I'm your friend." Danny wheezed out, trying to lean on Tucker, his legs jello and ready to give way.

"All you do nowadays is cater to your bosses every wish and whim while playing the façade your the strongest in the ghost zone." Tucker said, Danny felt his stomach churn at the choice cut of words.

"Your making it sound sexual man." Danny said, shuddering a bit, he preferred not to think of the imagery that popped into his head whenever someone phrased it that way.

"I know." Tucker said, a smirk tugging at his lips, Danny couldn't read his friends muted expressions anymore, how often did he see them now that he was a monarch?

Not enough that's one thing he was sure of.

He knew he spent to much time in the zone but could do nothing about it, he had to protect two different types of creatures now.

"I can't control when they need me in the zone!" Danny claimed in his defense, Sam scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Danny, you know by now you most likely have more than enough to power to destroy the ghostzone if you felt like it, your basically a god among humans and ghosts," Sam said, Danny was prone to interject when she brought this stuff up, but considering his power had leaped a few times recently she let her finish her statement. "Can't you just tell them to fuck off?"

"I could, but then someone could take the throne while I'm gone." Danny said, Tucker and Sam sighed before turning to look at Danny, still walking, but backwards now.

"Danny, do you think anyone in their right mind would dare challenge you to throne?" Sam said, Danny took a second before shaking his head.

"No, but-" Danny tried to say, Tucker cutting him off.

"Exactly, so spend more time with us bro, we only see each other during school or ghost fights, its boring without you to." Tucker explained, Danny was torn.

His friends, or his people?

He loved both of them dearly, and would give up his core itself to keep them protected.

He had history with his friends, but a crown chaining him to his people.

Oh ancients what's the right choice?

"I, uh, the crown, so long as I have the crown I'm chained to protect the inhabitants of the ghost zone until someone overthrows me." Danny said, excuse horrendous, truths blended in perfectly, Tucker and Sam couldn't deny it was the truth, they didn't like it though.

"Your right, I guess, but you have to put more time aside to hang out with us." Sam said, throwing a soft glare at Danny who still nearly crumbled at the gaze shot at him, violet eyes cold and unforgiving with a lace of loving.

"I know, kind of hard to do that."

[therealvinelle]

if aro/carlisle did happen, what would happen if edward found out?

(My thoughts on whether they boned. TLDR could be they did, could be they didn’t.)


Assuming they did, I think it would take a lot for Edward to find out.

Edward is enamored with Carlisle, Carlisle is pretty much God to him. I don’t think the Muffin or I have written a meta specifically about how Edward sees him just yet, we’ve touched upon it but I don’t have the perfect post to link to. One of us will have to write it one of these days. Point being, Edward relates to Carlisle the way he does to everyone else in his life (though if I had to choose an exception to this I’d say Alice), and that is that he has formed an idea of who Carlisle is as a person, and he will never change his mind about that. And his view of Carlisle is complicated, but ultimately founded on Carlisle being pure and saintly.


For Edward to learn that Aro/Carlisle happened, he must first accept three truths. He must accept that Carlisle wasn’t a virgin when he married Esme, that Carlisle had sex with a man, and that this man was Aro.


I don’t think he would.

In the first go-around, this means that Edward would go to extreme lengths to deny it. It wouldn’t even be a conscious decision, it wouldn’t be “LALALA I CAN’T HEAR YOU” at all. It would just be a befuddled “well that was weird” in response to Carlisle’s thoughts slipping. Edward is like this in all aspects, he has his truths and we see with how he approaches Bella that even as she surprises him, he never realizes his impression of her might not be accurate.

Something so outlandish as Carlisle having an affair with Aro would be a non-issue. He wouldn’t figure it out on his own because why would he, and no amount of hints, indications, or neon signs would seem to him as anything but coincidence. At best he’ll be miffed at these rumors 
making Carlisle look bad.

Say that it’s made inescapably clear to him, though.

Edward would not believe it was consensual.

Carlisle is saintly, Christian, and happily married to Esme. Aro is a disfigured maniac who eats people in the sewer. As of New Moon, he is evil incarnate so far as Edward is concerned.

Given how Edward views these two people, he would never believe Carlisle could ever give his consent to this. Which, if Edward was confronted with irrefutable proof that sex did happen, could only lead him to one conclusion.

I think Edward already suspects Chelsea is the reason why Carlisle lived so long in Volterra. If he were to learn Carlisle was invited to more things than the library, he would believe Aro had used Chelsea and Corin, to brainwash and then rape Carlisle. Nothing Carlisle said could convince Edward otherwise, as Edward would view it as a brainwashing victim repeating lines.

(Keep in mind that Edward is from a time when homosexuality was largely seen as predatory. Even if he were to learn of this affair before Eleazar told him about the Volturi guard’s gifts, the Aro/Carlisle combination would still have Edward assuming foul play. Either Aro is Hannibal Lecter fucking with people’s heads, or he has gifted guards Edward doesn’t know about.)

Edward, furious and grieving this unspeakable crime, vows to avenge Carlisle’s honor. He rallies the vampire world to take a stand against their rapist tyrannical dictator, embarrassing Carlisle to death of course as he now has to call every vampire he’s ever met and then some to recount his sex life and how he was Aro’s voluntary, decidedly not raped boy toy for decades.

Edward rallying of the vampires gets nowhere, as while there are a lot of people out there who’d love to rally against the Volturi, this here sounds like a complete mess and not at all the organized military effort needed to overthrow anybody. The Romanians show up, just in case, and Carlisle hates everything.

Edward takes it upon himself to be Carlisle’s therapist, try to resolve the terrible trauma that has lain unresolved for centuries. Carlisle foolishly agrees, hoping that talking it out with Edward will resolve this issue.

It doesn’t.

Nothing ever will.

The family never recovers.

[iv-aur-y]

Scaramouche !

scaramouche ;; would she?

synopsis ;; the purple-haired man begins to harbor feelings for you, but doubts whether he's worthy enough for you. a sequel to euthymia, part two of a mini-series ² · ﹖but can be read as a separate oneshot

foreword ;; this depiction of scara is purely a piece of fiction i came up with, i need to do a few more character studies to understand how he behaves, so this'll be completely ooc for our favorite harbinger.

also, much like the popular theory, scara will be portrayed as a clone for baal. however, it is not yet confirmed that this is true, even though many people embrace him as such. do take his background like a grain of salt, please and thank you.

Words could not describe the way Scaramouche looked at her. He hated her, but loved her, nonetheless. From the ecstatic look in her eyes when he brought her favorite dish, to the way her hands carefully accepted everything he gifted, whether it was something he found at the edge of a sidewalk, or something he had purchased with just her in mind.

The girl had the man whipped, he felt like a puddle in her embrace. Whenever she held out her hand as they walked the streets of Inazuma, the warmth that radiated from her could easily thaw the ice that froze his heart.

As someone who was solely brought into this world for becoming a marionette, she sure had a hobby to make him forget the reason for his creation.

He could feel the weight of the control paddle that hovered over his head be cut off as she wielded scissors that severed their attachment.

Her presense was soothing, to the point that his head would lull onto her shoulder as they sat side-by-side. Scaramouche was nothing more than smitten, and even those who didn't know the two personally could tell the man had feelings for the latter.

But. What about her? What did she feel for him, what were her thoughts on him? Scaramouche desperately wanted to know. Surely, he couldn't be the only one enamored by the latter.

"What do you think of the Scaramouche?" he had once heard Kazuha ask. He was running late that day, caught up in a meeting with Snezhnayan diplomats. So once he heard the question, he, too, wondered, what was he to her.

"He can a be a little... unpleasant sometimes. He suddenly goes quiet after smiling, or even in middle of speaking." he watched she stares into the area ahead of her, continuing to hide as he eavesdropped.

Oh, so he was unpleasant. Of course, why would a mere doll like him be of any importance to her? He was nothing more than an empty shell, he wasn't meant for the purpose of living for himself.

"Every so often, I wonder what's on his mind. His eyes are always clouded with uncertainty, as if something is holding him back." her tone faltered, as she clutched onto the hem of her dress. "Would it be bothersome for him to indulge his matters to me, is what I think. But, who am I to judge his actions?"

Scaramouche ran away that day. He didn't show up to their usual meeting spot, and he didn't go to meet her either.

He had constant thoughts regarding what she thought of him. Clearly, she cared for him and his well-being, but not so much so like he did for her.

If he were to tell her how he felt, would she deny him? Would she run away? If he were to tell her about why he was alive, would she accept him? Would she cast him away?

The young man was considering joining the Fatui Harbingers. His goal was to overthrow the Electro Archon, whom was the sole reason to his being. And the Tsaritsa's goal was to overthrow Celestia. Both of which aligned in some way.

If Scaramouche were to be with [Name], would she be directly in harm's way? Would she be able to protect herself? If Scaramouche was to become the next Harbinger, what would become of their relationship? Would he have to sever all bonds with her? Or worse, under the command of the Tsaritsa, would he be ordered to kill her if she became a hindrance to his work?

After that night, the young navy-purple haired male never went to meet the female again. Whom thought that he was mad at her or something of the sort. And even though her mind told her not to, she ventured out, seeking him. In hopes of meeting him again. And meet they did.

In the midst of a misty gale, the female stood in front of the male. there was a tall man who stood before her, a joker hat placed lopsided on his head. a smile was stitched onto his face permanently, his eyes wide.

"Pierro, the Jester." he spoke, which the female chose to ignore. Turning to the figure behind him, a worried look on her face as she met eyes with Scaramouche. "Are you going to leave as well?"

The male averted his gaze, while [Name] held out her hand, once again. "Then, I hope we meet again." he didn't return the gesture, leaving her behind with each step he took. Would she even care if he left? Certainly not, right?

Pierro's smile grew bigger at the scene. Yes, he would make a great addition to the puppets the Tsaritsa wished to cultivate.

[jmblyajones]

Eagles: Valentines (4x2)

1. I know that’s right! Andres better make an honest man outta Sam and put a ring on it!! 😌

Andreas… deny deny deny!! I mean what are you going to say? “I went to put a cap in Jack’s ass and instead he put a cap in mine.” Admit to NOTHING.

2. “Do you understand” Nothing I hate more than a condescending asshole. Let’s see how his mouth moves when Klara replaces him.

She probably wouldn’t because she’s focused on saving jobs… but that doesn’t mean she can’t demote him. People like that, you gotta get rid of immediately because all they’ll do is undermine you and get people on their side to overthrow any of your decisions as HEAD of the company

3. Jack for jail guys! What kind of libel laws do you guys have in Sweden huh?

4. Elias one piece of chocolate is not bad for you. Dark chocolate is actually pretty healthy. Idk why he’s making a big deal out of this. He out of everyone should know how good chocolate is for you….

and your heart.

There is this capital A awkward silence because Elias and Amie still think they’re slick enough to date secretly. Ludde practically set y’all’s first date up. Come on now 😂

5. Why is Klara giving Elias longing looks… I was gonna say it’s weird but maybe it’s not. That’s her recent ex so I guess.

I see omar likes powerful women. Or maybe he wants a sugar momma.

6. Felicia and Naima… Something (l)gbt just happened… yup yup yup. I know y’all felt it too!

7. Amie and Elias are took cute with these googly eyes across the room. 🥺

8. Y’all tell me you girls ain’t seen Felicia in weeks??? Come on man 🤦🏾‍♀️

A card? If y’all don’t take y’all asses down there and go see her!

9. Don’t play in my face. I know y’all saw that! That hand sweep to hand hold??

10. Mats should let Ludde borrow his lawyers to sue Jack for libel! I’m so disgusted.

11. Ted you dried out piece of human garbage. Ted really used his last two remaining brain cells to make a meme about domestic violence. How are people even laughing and sharing that shit??

I finally see another negro on the show and he out here jumping folks.

I HATE, I HATE, I HATE people who jump during one on one fights! It’s pathetic! 3 on 1 are you kidding me??

12. Ted really just called Klara a bitch for telling them to step off. Can we get the misogynistic dbag off the screen? NEXT CALLER!

Klara did not just tell this boy she got his mama on speed dial.

13. Elias got Amie going all the way around the world for these roses lol.

Aww oh my gosh he got her skis 🥺

Amie why you bring up Klara? lmao. He wants the world to know he love you girl.

SKATING INTO A KISS?? THAT LOOKS SOO SMOOTH 😍😍

14. Y’all had to squash the even slight chance Klara and Ludde might crush for a minute. This is hilarious but i’m with it. 💀💀

15. Y’all gon put a burger in front of this boy 🥴 He looks like he is about to spaz the fuck out oh my gosh…he looks ill.

What the hell has he been eating this whole time?? nuts and berries??

Amie is so quick to peace out chile meanwhile this boy is having a panic attack in the middle of the street.

I am wondering if Amie always being on go to cut and run is because she has some flashbacks to the whole Felicia and Ludde situation. It makes sense. My girl just doesn’t want to get hurt again.😭

16. Klara.. before you take this boy up there, Imma need Ludde to read that letter… I mean we don’t need his face to trigger her or something. 🤷🏾‍♀️

Wait Amie mentioned road trips and I just had an idea… What if there was a mini spin off with Amie and Elias in the US!! I’m reminded of what Euphoria did with its little extra episodes with Jules and Rue. Man what if we got some side episodes of them two road tripping? Or Amie preforming and Elias playing hockey in America!?! Oh that would be sooo TIGHT!!

[finelythreadedsky]

the framing of demeter and persephone’s relationship as generational conflict between mothers and daughters broadly speaking is weird to me, because actually generational tension and conflict is all over greek myth. there are so many stories of children who rise up against their parents and overthrow them, and of parents who are terrified at that possibility and take early violent measures against their children to prevent it.

obviously the divine succession myth of the theogony, where ouranos is overthrown by his son kronos even after he imprisons his children out of fear, then kronos is overthrown by his son zeus even after he eats his children out of fear, then zeus is prophesied to be overthrown by his son so he eats metis to prevent that son from being born and also avoids having a child with thetis to get out of the prophecy that any son of hers would be stronger than his father. and on the mortal side of things, laius fears being killed by his son oedipus, so he injures and exposes him, but oedipus does eventually kill his father and takes his kingdom (and his wife). acrisius fears the prophecy that he will be killed by his daughter danae’s son (because he himself has no sons) so he tries to prevent perseus from being born and then tries to kill him, but perseus ends up accidentally killing him anyway and taking his kingdom. and in the iliad and the odyssey there’s also this tension between the heroes we see and their fathers-- they feel pressure to live up to and exceed their fathers’ reputations in a way that pits the son against the father.

but it’s always fathers and sons. a son, in greek thought, has reason to hate his father-- while his father is alive, the son is under another man’s authority, a position that he might naturally be expected to resent. after the father is dead, the son comes into possession of his father’s property and political power. myths tell us about fathers who are terrified that their relationship to their sons will be poisoned by this knowledge, afraid that it will push their sons from love into resentment and violence.

mothers do not hold the power and authority that could inspire resentment, outright hatred, or retaliation. a mother has no control over her children’s inheritances, she does not arrange their marriages, she does not hold political power or influence or wealth that her children will inherit on her death. she has nothing to withhold from them, no power or authority that they do not have.

which is why the characterization of demeter as an overbearing overprotective helicopter parent seems so strange to me-- the reality is that it would have been pretty damn near impossible for an actual ancient greek women to be any of those things. mothers simply did not have enough control or authority over their children for that. and of course demeter is a goddess in a myth, not a real woman in history, but myth absolutely does reflect cultural reality, and the myth of the abduction of persephone in particular is informed by the experiences of real women with marriage and death and relationships and families. that’s not me speaking, that is a scholarly consensus-- it’s the very first sentence of the description of helene foley’s translation and commentary of the homeric hymn to demeter. and our contemporary concept of adolescence and the contemporary reality that many women do have abusive mothers or have generally poor relationships with their mothers, those things were not really part of the ancient world in the same way they are part of our world now. their reality was a world in which mothers generally did not possess anywhere near enough institutional power or authority to be overbearing, overprotective, controlling, or smothering (all words i’ve seen applied to demeter).

the structure and construction of kinship and family vary vastly across different cultures, time periods, and geographical locations. we can’t really superimpose contemporary (mostly american) ideas of familial relationships onto ancient (particularly archaic and classical) greece-- to do so is inaccurate, but more importantly, it obscures the way that greek notions of kinship and family were founded on deeply entrenched misogyny and relied on treating women as objects and property.

which brings me back full circle to my initial post, ten months later: i think we do a disservice to the women of the ancient world by whitewashing their lives and forgetting the ways this story reflects the pain of their culture treating women as little more than childbearing machines, denying mothers any role in their daughters’ lives, and severing the relationship between mothers and daughters at marriage.

[passable-talent]

okok so imagine growing up/ training with Anakin as kids in the Jedi temple?? and when he turns to the dark side, you join him and rule by his side???? I- asdfghjjfksa

how did u know that I’m a slut for this kinda shit

i’m not even 100% sure this was meant as a request but anon, you’re in luck, BECAUSE YOU’RE GETTING AN ENTIRE FUCKING FIC OUT OF THAT SHIT

make an entire 70 song playlist just to write this? yes. yes i did. 

As a Jedi Knight, you had been assigned to protect Padme Amidala. Such an assignment had been decided by the chancellor himself- he did so adore Padme, and could not stand the thought of her coming to harm. 

Darth Sidious, you see, had assumed that Anakin Skywalker cared for her deeply, and so needed her alive, for his plan concerning Anakin to come to fruition. He made a single, harmless mistake, one that had managed not at all to affect his plan. 

All that time that Anakin spent with Padme was indeed because he cared for her. She was his best friend- and it was you that he had married in secret some years ago. He did care deeply for Padme Amidala, but not in the same way he felt for his oldest friend in the Jedi Order, besides Obi-Wan. The one he’d grown up with, trained with. 

She was your best friend, and his. The three of you were an unstoppable trio (people notice when three of incredible beauty and power like the three of you enter a room), and you trusted each other with everything. She knew and helped hide your relationship with him, she was the only human at your wedding. 

And when the Republic was remade into the Empire, you sat in her apartment in Coruscant, her loyal bodyguard and best friend. As you always did when you had much to consider, you rolled a ring around your finger. Anakin had given it to you at your wedding. It wasn’t a wedding band, just a simple ring, one that wasn’t too far out of place for a Jedi to wear. But it was your wedding ring, all the same.

Obi-Wan knew that if anyone would know where Anakin was, it was one of the two of you. And he knew that you’d be together. 

“When was the last time you saw him?”

“Yesterday,” you answered, as you often did for the senator. It helped give her that aire of superiority that served her well. 

“And do you know where he is now?” He pressed, and you looked to Padme. She shook her head. 

“No,” you answered for her again, leaning still against one of the columns of her apartment. You knew she was safe with Obi-Wan, and your guard was as low as it had been in weeks. 

“I need your help,” Obi-Wan said, to the both of you. “He is in grave danger.” You stood up straight, surprised. 

“From the Sith?” You asked. 

“No,” Obi-Wan said, “from himself.” You approached Obi-Wan slowly, until you stood side by side with Padme. “I’m afraid...” Obi-Wan looked to the side, full of sorrow. “Anakin has turned to the Dark Side.” 

It felt as though a hole opened up in the floor beneath you, and you could do nothing but fall. 

“You’re wrong,” Padme said, conviction in her voice, “How could you even say that?”

You turned your face to the side, eyes cast to the floor, and murmured only a single ‘no’.

Obi-Wan pushed between the two of you, still pain in his voice, and you didn’t know how this could get any worse. 

“I-I have seen a security hologram,” he stuttered, voice soft, and you turned toward him. “Of him...” he trailed away as his footsteps stopped, and he brought his hand to his mouth. “Killing younglings.” 

“Not Anakin,” Padme said, “he couldn’t!”

“It can’t be true,” you murmured, shutting your eyes briefly against it all, as though you could block it away. Your thumb went to the ring on your fourth finger, just to feel the metal, and to remember who it represented. 

“He was deceived by a lie, we all were.” Obi-Wan turned, and now his face was hard. “It appears the chancellor is behind everything, including the war.” 

“The Emperor,” you corrected, anger coiling between your ribs, and now you had someone to blame. The same man who had shown so much kindness to you, and your two best friends. And he’d done this. 

“Palpatine is the Sith Lord we’ve been looking for,” Obi-Wan told you both, and you flicked your eyes for just a moment to Padme- she looked surprised, and hurt. As were you all. “After the death of Count Dooku, Anakin became his new apprentice.” She paused, taking it all in, and in her strife took a seat on the nearby couch. 

“Anakin isn’t a Sith,” you said, under your breath, wishing you could convince yourself of it. 

“I must find him,” Obi-Wan said, and your gaze snapped to him. 

“And kill him?" You accused, “He’s been deceived, just like the rest of us. You said it yourself!” 

“He has become a very great threat,” Obi-Wan insisted, and you shook your head, taking a step in his direction. 

“And he can be lead back to the light!” You said, astounded that Obi-Wan could even consider harming him. “Obi-Wan, don’t you see? If you turn on him, it’ll only push him further toward the dark! You, Obi-Wan Kenobi, his master!” You noticed the briefest expression of guilt cross Obi-Wan’s face, and you thought you might convince him to reconsider. 

His eyes flicked downward to the ring, and his resolve hardened, and he stepped back toward the balcony, and his ship. He paused, just outside the walls of the apartment. 

“(Y/N),” he said, and you lifted your chin toward him. “You’ve married him, haven’t you?” 

You kept his gaze, and did not deny it. 

“I’m so sorry,” he said, turning from you and boarding his ship. 

“Remember what I said, Obi-Wan,” you said, and the conviction in your voice was almost a threat, “If you find him. If he thinks you’ve turned on him, we’ll never get him back.” Obi-Wan nodded, slightly, and left the balcony. 

You turned back to Padme with sadness in your eyes. 

“You know where he is, don’t you?” She asked, and you reached with your right hand to fiddle with the ring on your left. 

“Of course I do,” you admitted, and she walked to you. 

“Let me come with.”

“Padme, love,” you said, “if what Obi-Wan said is true, and he has turned to the dark, I want to keep you as far away as possible. I’ll send Captain Typho down, he’ll watch over you while I’m gone.” Padme nodded, pulling you into a hug. 

“Take my ship,” she said, “so he’ll know it’s you.” 

“Thank you,” you breathed, and when you parted, you felt her run her thumb over your wedding ring. “I promise I’ll bring him back.” 

Mustafar- that’s where he was. You flew there, alone with your thoughts for the entire ride, but you knew that it would be your husband waiting for you when you arrived. 

You touched down on the landing dock, and for a moment, stared across the fiery landscape, wondering if this was your own, personal hell. To lose Anakin, to stand opposite Obi-Wan, to abandon Padme. 

A figure appeared, and dropped his hood, and you’d recognize him anywhere. He ran- and you did the same, opening the hatch so you could meet him. He opened his arms to you, and you fell into them, and if you hadn’t known, you wouldn’t have thought that anything changed. 

“Padme’s ship,” he said, posing a question, and you shook your head.

“She’s on Coruscant,” you said, resting your forehead against his shoulder. “It’s just me.” 

“What are you doing out here?” He asked, and you swallowed hard. 

“I was worried about you,” you said, holding onto his arms. “Obi-Wan...” you trailed off, and thought of your own advice. If there was any chance that the two of them would ever reconcile, it would be affected by your words in this moment. 

“We’ve been told terrible things,” you said, and you saw concern in his eyes. How this loving man before you could have done what Obi-Wan said... it didn’t make sense. 

“What things?”

“They said you’ve turned to the dark side,” you said, nearly in a whimper, but you chose not to specify who ‘they’ where that told you this rumor. He lowered his gaze, and pressed his forehead to yours, and it almost helped. “That you killed younglings.” 

“They’re trying to turn you against me,” Anakin said, holding you gently, and you shut your eyes. Obi-Wan was right, and Sidious had manipulated Anakin. You just had to get him back. 

“Anakin, I want to help you,” you said, and you felt him pull from your grip, slowly. 

“And I want to protect you,” he said, and his voice was so calm, like he didn’t realize the meaning that was behind them. “Only my new powers can do that.” 

As a Jedi, you excelled in decision making. You had strong instincts, and you had been praised in the past that any decision you made was likely the right one. 

So here, you needed to make a choice. A choice as to how you would bring Anakin back to the light. You could push, now, and make him feel betrayed. Or you could wait, and tug him slowly. 

The problem with the plan, the kink in the line, was that Obi-Wan was on his way, searching for Anakin. Sidious likely was, too. If you didn’t pull him to the light now, things would get worse. 

But you were willing to do whatever it took to keep Anakin alive. 

You pulled him against you again, in another hug, and wished that you could spend forever here, wrapped within him. 

“I am becoming more powerful than any Jedi has ever dreamed of,” he said, fingers slipping through your hair the way he would calm you of a nightmare. If only this were another nightmare, and you would wake up, and all would be right again. “And I’m doing it for you. To protect you.” 

You were sure, now, that Obi-Wan was right. Anakin had been taken to the dark side, but you knew he had not yet been lost. You knew you could bring him back. 

“We could leave,” you suggested quietly, fingers knotting into his robes. “Leave it all behind. We don’t have to be Jedi, we can just be together, far away from here.” 

“Don’t you see?” he asked, and as you pulled away, you saw a smile on his face. “We don’t have to run away anymore. I have brought peace to the Republic! Now we can be safe, Padme can be safe, the Separatists are gone. I’m even more powerful than the chancellor, (Y/N), I-I can overthrow him, if that’s what you want.” 

You had to make a decision. You had to choose. 

“And together, you and I can rule the galaxy! Make things the way we want them to be, the way they should be!” 

Choose- choose between the Jedi way that you’d been taught all your life, or Anakin. 

You brought your hands to his face, letting your fingertips settle in his hair. 

“Promise me,” you whispered, and your eyes lifted to his. “Promise me that when the day comes, you’ll overthrow the chancellor. Promise me that you’ll choose me over him.” 

“Of course,” he insisted, putting his flesh hand over yours, “It’s all for you, (Y/N).” 

“Anakin,” said a voice behind you, and you whirled from his arms to see Obi-Wan, standing at the hatch of Padme’s ship. 

“No, no!” You said, throwing up a hand toward him, your other to your side as though you were protecting Anakin from him. “No, Obi-Wan, you’ll only push him away! I can handle this!”

“He’s endangering himself, (Y/N),” Obi-Wan said, stepping down the ramp. 

“You brought him here?” 

“No!” you shouted over your shoulder, “I didn’t know he was on the ship!” Turning back to Obi-Wan, you brought your hand up higher, and you’d force him back, if you needed to. 

“Obi-Wan, trust me. He’s fine, he’ll be okay, I need you to go.” Obi-Wan looked at you for a moment, and you saw no trust in his eyes. Your right hand, which once kept Anakin back, slowly rounded to your saber where it hung on your back. 

“Obi-Wan, please. We don’t need to fight.” 

You expected, though, that you would have to. 

But Obi-Wan let out a breath, and conceded, stepping away. 

“Listen to me, both of you,” you said, turning your shoulders just so that you could refer to both of them, but still stand between them. 

“Obi-Wan, you need to be far from here. Far from Coruscant. Take Padme, too- far away. I don’t trust the emperor not to harm either of you.” You made a small motion to Anakin.

“We’ll take care of Sidious. He trusts Anakin, we can remove him. When it’s safe, I’ll let you know, and you can come home.” You could feel the way the air between them bristled, but it seemed Obi-Wan trusted you enough to heed your words. 

“Take Padme’s ship. Fly to Coruscant, then go, as far away as you can.”

“Tatooine,” Anakin suggested, voice dark. 

“Yes, go to Tatooine, and hide, please, Obi-Wan.” 

Without a word, Obi-Wan nodded, and turned back to the ship. You watched as it lifted off, and you didn’t look away until it had gone. You could feel Anakin simmering behind you. 

“Did he come to kill me?” He asked, and you reached for him. 

“No, no,” you soothed, hating yourself with every lie you told him. You knew it was for the best. “He was worried, worried for you, worried that he would have to kill you because of your loyalty to Sidious.” You pet his hair back, holding his face. “But you aren’t loyal to Sidious, see? And now that he knows that, we can all work together. He’ll keep Padme safe until we rule the galaxy.” Anakin nodded, resting his forehead against yours again. 

“When the time is right, (Y/N), I’ll do it. I’ll kill Palpatine.”

“I know,” you breathed, and it almost seemed like everything would be okay. 

~~~

He didn’t kill Palpatine. 

Sidious trusted him, and so did what Anakin asked, keeping you alive and nearby. He called you a Sith, and fashioned a saber for you, its color autumn red, with just the slightest reminder of your former orange. You were allowed to be on his left, when Anakin was on his right. 

In his office at the senate, he was in the midst of a meeting when you ran him through.

It had been two months since that day on Mustafar. Obi-Wan reported that Yoda had disappeared, and most other Jedi had scattered throughout the system. Padme was safe. And you loved Anakin, but he was taking his time to remove Sidious. 

You wondered if it was because of Sidious’ control over him. Possibly, Sidious could sense his intentions. You doubted he could sense yours. 

So, from behind him, beside your husband, you ignited your saber, running straight through his stomach. 

He fell to the floor, and the members of his cabinet looked at you, stunned. 

“Leave,” Anakin ordered, and they immediately obeyed. With Palpatine dead, the empire fell to Anakin. 

When the room was empty, you looked down at the monster on the floor. He was wheezing, and bleeding rapidly. 

With hands almost tender, you sat him up, and rested his head against the desk. 

“With your remaining breath, my master,” you said, sitting back onto the floor, “tell me your plan. Tell me how you pulled Anakin to the dark side. And I’ll tell you why you failed.” He glared at you. 

“I could kill you now,” you offered, auburn saber still in your hand. “But I want to know how to do what you’ve done. To pass on the way of the Sith.” 

“Anakin Skywalker loved Padme Amidala,” Palpatine wheezed, and you raised your chin. “I promised him that I could save the one he loved from certain death. And when she disappeared, he held loyalty to no one but me.” 

“You didn’t count on me,” you continued for him, “If it weren’t for me, it would have worked.” 

“Yes,” Palpatine growled. You smiled, wickedly, and collected your legs underneath you as though you were meditating. 

“You failed,” you said, holding up your end of the bargain, “because while Anakin loves Padme, he married me.” Sidious’ eyes went wide. How he had managed to discuss Padme with Anakin and it never somehow came up that he hadn’t married Padme, you didn’t want to know. 

“His loyalty is to me. And to Padme- who is right now on Tatooine, in the care of Obi-Wan Kenobi.” You lifted your saber, pointing it to him casually, like one might gesture with a pen. 

“It seems, Sidious, I never discussed with you my true feelings for Anakin.” You pressed the saber forward to his stab wound, and the blood around it began to boil and sizzle. You went in slowly, making him groan, having not enough energy to scream. 

“I love him,” you explained, “I would do anything for him.” You slid the saber up toward his chest, and began the same slow press, this time toward his heart, through healthy flesh. 

“And I’ve got to say,” you began, readying to shove the saber forward and stop his miserable, shriveled heart, “I don’t think I appreciate how you’ve treated him.” 

One thrust forward, and Emperor Palpatine was no more. 

With his lungs empty of their final breaths, you snuffed your saber, and turned back to Anakin. He was still sitting in the chair he’d had beside Palpatine, eyes trained to you, shining in intensity. 

“You’re in my seat,” you said as you stood. You approached him and grabbed him by the shirt, pulling him against you. “I’m afraid I’ve taken your place as right hand to the emperor.” 

“Is that so?” he teased, his hands on your lower back. 

“I believe it is,” you breathed, “Emperor Skywalker.” 

No one in the galaxy had ever shared a sweeter kiss. 

-🦌 Roe

[hello-that-happened]

How She-Ra, Wrong Hordak, and I Deconverted in Six Steps

Alright y'all, it's time for my fourth essay exploring how She-Ra and the Princess of Power (SPOP) used Christian themes and parallels to provide a humanist message.

My first post named 9 major messages of SPOP that contradict Christian fundamentalism.

My second gave the historical context of how our generation and Noelle's are growing up to overthrow Christian fundamentalism after it became such a powerful enemy in the U.S.

My third discussed the parallel between Horde Prime’s rage at Hordak’s self-naming and the Christian idea that everyone is an instrument of God’s will.

Now I want to discuss how Adora's and Wrong Hordak's journeys defections from the Horde parallel my story, and potentially others', of leaving Christianity. Adora and Wrong Hordak experience many of the same stages in his journey out of the Horde as many ex-Christians experience leaving Christianity.

My own experience leaving Christianity was a journey into atheism, so I will interpret Adora's and Wrong Hordak's stories through that lens. Plenty of people who left toxic/conservative Christianity behind still believe in God, in heaven, and/or in the value of Christian communities. I do not want to minimize or dismiss their experiences, and I welcome progressive Christians as allies in the fight for LGBT+ rights and social justice generally. But when I watched Adora and Wrong Hordak leave their belief in The Horde behind, I saw myself leaving Christianity behind. I want to tell my story through/alongside theirs. I hope some of you can relate, but it is okay if you cannot, regardless of your religious beliefs or lack thereof.

Deconversion in Fast-Forward

Adora, Wrong Hordak, and I escaped from the organizations that raised us and its worldview in six somewhat-distinct stages:

Multiple major characters' arcs in She-Ra begin with rethinking their loyalty to The Horde. Wrong Hordak and Adora both lose their faith in The Horde after a lifetime of indoctrination into its ideals and goals. Their journey away from The Horde mirrors many young Americans' away from Christianity, with at least one notable exception: time. Deconversion takes multiple years for most ex-Christians, but only takes a few days for Adora and Wrong Hordak. Their de-conversion basically represents a speed run of most ex-Christians'.

Full Breakdown of Each Stage

(tw: mention of depression and suicidal ideation)

Adora takes delight in pretending to beat up an imaginary princess in the show's first scene, and later calls princesses "violent instigators who don't even know how to control their powers." She believes in the ideals of The Horde, and feels excited to rise through the ranks to become Force Captain. Obedience to Horde authorities comes fairly naturally to her, and she even chides Catra for being "disrespectful."

Wrong Hordak consistently repeats his loyalty to Horde Prime throughout his first episode and beyond. Even while being attacked by his fellow clones, Wrong Hordak affirms that "We serve Horde Prime's will." Unprompted in the next episode he happily announces, "I believe in Horde Prime!"

I felt proud, as a kid in Sunday School, that I could answer more questions about the Bible than any of the other kids. My church's youth group was the most enjoyable part of my middle school years especially because I got to hang out with the guy I only recently realized I'd had a huge gay crush on. I started viewing "feeling happy" and "feeling the presence of God" as identical. I wrote in my 2011 "Faith Statement" for my church's Confirmation that "I fell in love with God," and that "I thank God that I was born into a good Christian family and was raised to honor God."

Adora is kidnapped by the Horde's enemies and taken away from her home, separated from all of the voices reassuring her that The Horde is a good organization with a just mission. Shadow Weaver is not around to give her orders or map out her future anymore, leaving her alone with her enemies and her thoughts.

Wrong Hordak's connection to the hive-mind he knew for all of his life is severed. "I am…alone?" he asks in shock, then breaks down and cries, "I am alone!" For someone who grew up living in the same mind as his entire communal "family," suddenly losing that connection to everyone he knew would be traumatizingly shocking. The best equivalent I can think of in human experience is being suddenly ripped away from your family and community and then never seeing them again.

I kept conflating happiness with my faith in God for years, even after my crush moving away drove me into suicidal ideation for a couple weeks in 2011. My mental health recovered for a year before settling into a long-term depression in 2012. Because I conflated happiness with the presence of God, my depression felt like something had taken away the presence of God.

Adora defends the organization that raised her by quoting her highest authority: "Hordak says we're doing what's best for Etheria. We're trying to make things better. More orderly." Glimmer argues against Adora's worldview by showing her (1) that princesses are just people instead of dangerous violent monsters, and (2) what The Horde has done: first the ruins of a village destroyed by The Horde, and then that the village of Thaymor which she was told to attack was peaceful, innocent, and happy.

Wrong Hordak grabs Entrapta by the hair for the crime of "trespassing," and enjoys saying, "Prime shall hear of this, and his punishment shall be merciless." But once Bow’s arrow disconnects him from the Horde’s hivemind, he is simultaneously stranded away from the people who constantly reinforced his belief in Horde Prime’s goodness and stuck with a group of people opposing Prime. For a long time, Wrong Hordak simply pretends that the Best Friend Squad™ serve Horde Prime just like everyone else he ever knew. Every line of his dialogue in “Taking Control” is a quick, snappy motto he took from Horde propaganda, like “I believe…in Horde Prime” and “True nourishment comes from the favor of Horde Prime.” [see footnote 1]

I was well aware, growing up in a progressive suburb, that plenty of my high school friends were nonreligious. After my depression sunk in, I found myself arguing about religion with a brilliant but very smug British friend who consistently refuted my arguments in ways I could not dispute. Searching for arguments to support my pre-existing beliefs, I started reading Christian apologetics, but found nothing my friends could not easily refute. [see footnote 2]

Adora sees the ruins of the site of a Horde attack while with Glimmer and Bow, and at first rejects what Glimmer tells her about what she sees to preserve her worldview: "This doesn't make any sense. The Horde would never do something like this…You don't know them like I do." But when she sees The Horde attack Thaymor, the belief system painstakingly constructed by The Horde and drilled into her over 15 (or so) years comes crashing down. At first she can rationalize away her experiences to preserve her beliefs, but when the evidence of her own senses becomes overwhelming she cannot resolve the cognitive dissonance between her belief in The Horde's goodness and her direct experience of The Horde attacking the innocent town of Thaymor. Her worldview cannot explain what she experienced.

Wrong Hordak keeps his belief in Horde Prime's all-powerful nature for a long time after joining the Best Friend Squad. However, when until the Best Friend Squad catches him in a contradiction. He tells them what he was told: that Krytis does not exist. As soon as they start questioning the contradiction he was fed, he becomes extremely uncomfortable. He maintains his denial of Krytis' existence even after they land on the planet, until he can no longer deny the evidence that Horde Prime is not all-powerful.

I grew up, like many of you, on the Internet. My depression began during the heyday of the online atheist movement—and by “heyday,” I mean “seemingly inescapable presence,” especially on YouTube where I hung out. I kept running into comments asking questions that I could not answer: Why does Christianity seem to promote belief based on internal feelings instead of observable evidence? Why would an all-loving god send anyone to hell forever? Why did I believe claims from Christian doctrine and doubt claims from every other religion? Why has Christianity seemed to cling to the past instead of embracing a progressive future? The questions overwhelmed me. I found myself terrified of my own growing doubts. Eventually, my belief was based entirely on two emotions: nostalgia for past happy experiences I associated with Christianity, and a fear of losing the vague hope those experiences gave me.

The first time that Bow and Glimmer met Adora, they immediately labeled her “Horde soldier!,” and the label stuck through the first three episodes. Adora has always identified herself primarily as a soldier serving The Horde, echoing the messages she has heard for her whole life: “Shadow Weaver said it didn't matter who I was before, that—that I was nothing before Hordak took me in.” The language of “I was nothing” reflects cult dynamics where a group tries to retain someone permanently by making them think of themself as nothing more than their worshipful loyalty to the group. Similarly, it is a common Christian belief that “without Jesus we are nothing.”

After realizing that Horde Prime fes him lies, Wrong Hordak collapsed into a sobbing mess. “Who am I if not an exalted brother of Prime?,” he bawled, still thinking that the only legitimate kind of identity is one based on fully devoted worship of an all-powerful authority. Per Entrapta, “It seem[ed] that Wrong Hordak has begun to question the meaning of life.” She later described Wrong Hordak’s breakdown as an “existential crisis,” which happens “when individuals question whether their lives have meaning, purpose, or value, and are negatively impacted by the contemplation.” Without an all-powerful father figure to value him, Wrong Hordak thought, who would?

I identified myself fundamentally as a Christian for my entire childhood and teen years. I found joy, purpose, and a sense of self in my religion. Leaving my religion behind felt like burning the bridge to who I was behind me. When I de-converted from Christianity, I felt like I was standing at the brink of a void. I thought that without finding goodness in God, I might find no goodness at all. [see footnote 3]

When Wrong Hordak finishes (digitally, but also emotionally) processing the Krytis data logs of Horde Prime leaving in defeat, he explicitly renounces his old loyalties and declares his opposition to the organization and beliefs that he used to believe in with all his heart: "Brothers! Horde Prime lied to us. He is a false ruler. We must rise up against him, and free the universe from his unjust reign!"

After Adora betrays the Horde at the Battle of Thaymor, she pledges her loyalty to Bright Moon in her battle against the Horde: "I’ve seen for myself the atrocities the Horde has committed against the people of Etheria, and I’m ready to fight to stop them. If you give me the chance, I know I can help the Rebellion turn the tide of the war."

I didn't have an explicit declaration statement like Wrong Hordak or Adora. However, on 5/5/15 I arranged a meeting with my very friendly and understanding youth pastor as a last-ditch effort to save my faith. I hoped that he would crush my worrying doubts. Instead, actually encouraged me to become agnostic and to look into non-Christian beliefs on the subject of religion. Rather than feeling terrified of what I might find and wishing that someone could indoctrinate me into my old belief system, I started on a path to discover the truth wherever it might lead me.

Footnotes for Context

Christian fundamentalists’ similarly simplistic snappy phrases have been labeled by ex-Christians as “thought-terminating clichés… brief, highly reductive, definitive-sounding phrases” where “Simple labels are attached to something you like or dislike, and they are the start and finish of all thought on the subject.” Such black-and-white “totalistic” thinking is common in Christian fundamentalism, especially how it labels complex political topics as somehow being merely a cover for “spiritual warfare” between the totally good/Godly side and the totally evil/demonic side.

Specifically, I started reading an “Intelligent Design” propaganda apologetics book by Lee Strobel called The Case For A Creator. A self-proclaimed former atheist, Strobel wrote his The Case For series using my same research strategy: Only do research using sources that already agree with you. Whereas Strobel exclusively talked to other Christian apologists, though, I at least tried talking to atheists. Anyway, I walked into school one day with a confident smile and a copy of Strobel’s book and sat down with some friends. One of them, another brilliant atheist but with a far subtler and humbler personality, noticed it and his face immediately sunk into the expression of someone exhausted by the topic as he braced himself for my bullshit. When I confidently asserted a creationist talking point trying to dismiss the findings of some old experiment, he not only knew the experiment but immediately dismantled my talking point. I had no reply. What struck me most was not just his swift rebuttal, but his weary tone: My arguments were not only bad, but so bad that he was genuinely tired of them.

Around the same time, I became obsessed with the character of Kefka from Final Fantasy 6. To me, Kefka represented what I feared most about leaving Christianity behind — that I would lose any sense of meaning, purpose, or morality in my life. ("Life… Dreams… Hope…Where do they come from? And where are they headed? Such meaningless things!") Edgy, I know, but in my mind that kind of absurdism seemed to be an inevitable result of abandoning my religious beliefs. Fortunately, I came to understand that there is plenty of meaning, purpose, beauty, and goodness outside of the particular religion that I happened to be born into.

[empyreanwritings]

A Different Side to You

Pairing: Angel!Sam Wilson x Demon!Reader

Word Count: 7k (yall this is my longest fic that isn’t a series, i’m crying)

Warnings: definitely some blasphemous talk, blood and gore, mentions of sacrifices, language

Summary: You like to get under Sam’s skin because he makes it easy, but he doesn’t realize just how far you’ll really go to make sure he’s safe.

A/N: Hello friends! This is my submission for @buckysknifecollection​ writing challenge, congrats again on reaching 3k bby cause you deserve every follower and more! My prompt was Flirting in Inappropriate Places, and I tried to be as interesting with it as I could asdlkfjd ! Please let me know what y’all think! I crave attention xx

Divider by @whimsicalrogers​ - check them out bc their edits are amazing x

"Do you pray, or is that kind of redundant given your direct line to the big man?"

Sam refused to look over at the intruder. It was bad enough you felt the need to bother him with your presence again but to do it in a church? He feared if he looked over at you, he'd throw the hymnal straight at your thick skull. That kind of behavior was unbecoming for God's favorite, and he knew better than to test his father's patience - even if you tested his own daily.

You sighed dramatically, and he heard the familiar click of your heels as you walked down the center aisle. You traced your finger against the armrest of the pews; your nails dipped in black paint occasionally leaving a small scratch on them. The wood was old and soft, it was easy to leave marks behind, and it made you smile knowing they wouldn't be able to buff it out without ruining the wood altogether. A church marked by a demon. How sad.

For the last year, you brought it upon yourself to cause trouble to Sam. Nat told you not to bother with him; she knew her father would protect him at all costs, but you couldn't stop yourself. There was something about Sam that made every part of your body feel hot - and not in the Hellfire kind of way. Maybe it was his strong will or those arms. Either way, you enjoyed bugging him because you knew you'd make him crack eventually.

It was too hard to resist you, ask any man or woman who was allowed to live after a nightly encounter with you.

"I have to say," you leaned against the pew directly in front of Sam and crossed your arms over your chest, "Orange really is your color, Sammy. I don't think I've ever seen you look so delicious before."

"Can you not flirt with me in a house of worship? It's bad enough that you are here," he hissed. "Do not disrespect my father by flirting with me as well."

"Touchy, touchy. I can see I've struck a nerve, so I'll tell you why I'm here."

Sam's brows raised, and for once, he seemed intrigued by what you had to say. "Oh? It's not to bother me?"

Part of your visit was to bother him, you couldn't deny that, but it was mostly a professional visit. Nat needed to return to Hell and deal with a few demons who were stirring up trouble. The longer Nat stayed on Earth, the more restless they became down below. Some of them even went as far as to say Nat was no longer their queen and wanted to overthrow her. And, of course, she couldn't let that happen, so she left you in charge of any earthly factions trying to rise up while she went down to control the chaos. You hated being left behind, but the company wasn't terrible.

The only way you could really get the demons on Earth under control was if you had Lilith's knife. It was the only knife capable of truly killing a demon, not just send them back to Hell to crawl their way out again. After the war between the angels and demons, the angels took the knife and hid it so no being could ever wield its power again, and you knew Sam was there when Steve hid it.

You suggested a trade: Sam loaned you Lilith's knife in exchange for one of your Souls. No one would ever be willing to give up a soul they took in a deal, but if it meant you'd get your hands on the knife, you would do it.

"Are you out of your mind?" Sam roared, his cool exterior finally cracking at your audacity to ask something of him. "You really think I am going to hand over Lilith's knife to you? You know very well that knife doesn't just kill demons, Y/N."

"I would never use it on you, you drama queen." You paused, and a wicked smile spread across your face. "Unless you asked me to, of course."

He scoffed. You felt the disgust rolling off him, and you tried not to be annoyed that the sheer thought of being with you made him feel sick. You weren't looking for him to love you, or anything like that, but he didn't have to act like sleeping with you was so terrible. It wasn't as if you could get any sort of disease - perks of being a demon, after all.

"I am not giving you the knife, so you might as well leave."

"I can wait," you purred and left your spot on the pew to explore the sanctuary. You knew it would bother Sam if you stayed any longer, so you were going to milk your time there.

The church was one of the oldest in the city. You never fully understood the separate denominations of the church, but you noticed Baptists put less work into their churches than others. The pews were old, the fabric on them was a faded green that was torn in some spots. The white walls were slightly yellowed and peeling in the corners, but you only noticed if you focused long enough. It helped that the lights, which you could see dust hanging from the top of them, were dimmed. The blue carpet on the stage was the only thing that seemed new, and even that didn't seem to be in the best condition.

You walked over to the podium, and from the corner of your eye, you could see Sam tense up. You smirked and continued on. A worn bible sat on top of it; there were tabs sticking out the side, marking several pages for future sermons, you assumed. You grabbed the end of one and flipped it to the marked page, running your fingers across the lines.

You opened your mouth to start reading, but Sam appeared in front of you almost instantly. He slammed the bible closed, barely giving you time to yank your hand back. He knew exactly what you were doing, and he refused to let you speak the words of his father.

Touchy, touchy, you thought.

Sam grabbed your elbow to escort you out, but you whirled around and faced him head on. You pressed your chest against his; you were so close, your nose brushed the tip of his. He hated being this close to you, but he made no sign of backing down. God's favorite was one of the proudest as well. A deadly sin, you chose to remind him.

He watched your eyes flick down to his lips and back to his eyes in a matter of seconds. It happened so quickly, he thought he imagined it, but he knew better. You were shameless.

"I guess I'll get going now, Sammy," you hummed as you trailed your finger down his chest. "Please wear this sweater the next time I see you. Like I said, orange is your color."

You disappeared without another word, and the breath escaped Sam's lips in a cough. Well, it was less of a cough, and more of a strangled gasp. You really had a way of getting under his skin, and he hated admitting that to himself.

He knew one thing was certain, he couldn't let you get Lilith's knife. No matter your intentions.

"What are they doing?"

You jumped at the sound of Sam's voice, thinking you were caught by one of the people you spied on, but instantly relaxed when you saw him standing behind you. You glanced back at the scene in front of you - an altar with fake skulls the group probably bought at Michael's, red fabric thrown carelessly around everything, and three men in black cloaks mumbling to themselves about Lucifer. A woman was tied to the table directly in the middle. She squirmed and screamed for someone to help her, but no one was around these parts for miles, and the group knew it. It was why they picked this spot in the first place.

"Virgin sacrifice," you grumbled. "I could smell the stench of goat's blood miles away, so I popped in to see what they were doing."

"You can't just let them-"

"Relax, Sammy. I'm going to stop them. I actually hate human sacrifices." You turned around and smiled wide when you looked over at Sam. His brows furrowed, confused by your sudden change in mood, but when your eyes looked down at his shirt, he knew what you were about to say. "You're wearing orange."

He rolled his eyes. "I had nothing else to wear."

"You're wearing orange because I said you looked good in it, aren't you? Don't be embarrassed, Sammy, you look absolutely-"

"Don't you have a virgin sacrifice to interrupt?"

Your mouth formed an 'o' as if you just remembered why you were here. You told him to wait one moment before you disappeared behind the red fabric.

Screams filled the abandoned warehouse, but they didn't belong to the woman. The stench of blood and mutilated flesh hung in the air around Sam. It was a smell he was sure you were used to, but he almost lost his lunch thanks to it. When the screaming stopped, Sam thought the worst of it was over until he heard one of the boys beg for their lives. A wretched sob and a plea to be better interrupted by the sound of him choking on his own blood.

You escorted the woman out quietly. The poor thing trembled in your arms, yet it seemed you weren't the thing she was terrified of. You may have been a demon, but the monsters were the men willing to sacrifice her in the name of someone who didn't want human sacrifices to begin with. Well, Nat only liked sacrifices if the one dying was wicked, but that was another story.

The woman thanked you, tears and snot streaming down her face as she clutched onto your torso. You grimaced but did not pull away. Human comfort wasn’t something you fully understood, but you knew she needed a good hug right now, so you let it slide.

"Is there anything I can do to repay you?" She sobbed.

Sam shook his head. He knew what you were about to say - she could offer her soul in exchange for helping her. Demons were all the same. They acted like what they did was for the benefit of others, but it always came at a price. A price the humans could barely afford. And just when he started to believe you did this out of whatever goodness you had in your heart, you were going to prove to him that you were just like every other demon.

"You owe me nothing." He sucked in a sharp breath. That wasn't what he was expecting at all. "Except…maybe don't go on dates with people you meet in cemeteries. This is New Orleans, you can meet better men at the bars."

She nodded and made her way out of the warehouse. You weren't worried about her spreading the tale of what happened today because she could be accused of murder if she did. No one would ever buy the tale that a demon swooped in and killed everyone just to save her. The witches of the French Quarter might, but they weren't lawyers who could bust her out of jail.

You noticed Sam staring at you and huffed. "What? Do you not approve of me killing those bastards?"

"No, I…" He trailed off for a moment, eyes wandering over every inch of your blood covered body.  He wasn't looking at you but trying to look through you and understand why you would do something like spare that woman's soul. "I don't understand why you didn't make a deal with that woman."

You shrugged. You felt no need to explain yourself to him.

"Wait, when you offered to exchange a soul for Lilith's knife, did you even have a soul to offer?"

"Several."

"Ones that aren't centuries old."

"Why does it matter how old they are? A soul is a soul, right?"

It hit Sam that you probably haven't made a deal since you first became a demon. There was a time where Nat required every demon to make deals with people, but even she grew bored of the lifestyle. Many demons continued making deals and ruining people's lives, but Sam wondered when you stopped - and why. You spent most of your days following him around just to bother him, which meant you didn't have much time to harvest souls of the innocent. So, why? Why did you stop, and why did you make it seem like it wasn't a big deal?

You turned away to avoid any questions he was inevitably going to throw at you. You walked around the body parts and looked through the trinkets they gathered for the sacrifice. It was a long shot, but you wanted to see if they got their hands on Lilith's knife. A small bubble of excitement burst in you when you saw a black dagger resting on the table, but you knew it wasn't the right one as soon as you touched it. No magic, no power. Just a boring kitchen knife dipped in paint.

He watched you look around in disappointment. Questions bombarded his mind, made him wonder what else he didn't know about you - what else he might have gotten wrong. You were still a demon, though, and he would never be able to look past that.

When your search turned up empty, you focused right back on Sam and the dark orange V-neck he wore. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he wore that shirt for you. And you knew it.

"So," you began with a smile, "I find it adorable that you are wearing more orange for me. Very fall…very romantic, if you ask me."

"I didn't wear it for you," he quipped. "I told you, I had nothing else to wear."

"Mhm, so you said. Well, if you don't like it, you could always just take it off. I wouldn't mind." You ran your finger along his exposed collarbone, and he quickly swatted at your hand.

"There is nothing sexy about you asking me to take off my shirt when it smells like blood."

You giggled, something that should have been adorable yet somehow sounded evil coming from your lips. "You'll get used to it after a while, but I'll let you change the subject for now. I know it's probably not good for God's favorite to be aroused at the idea of taking me on a sacrificial altar."

Sam deadpanned, and you practically howled out a laugh. He made it far too easy to get under his skin. As much as you would have liked for him to ravish you then and there, you were perfectly satisfied knowing you managed to annoy him. It was the second greatest pleasure in your life, next to torturing evil assholes who thought the world belonged to them.

You tried to turn the conversation back to Lilith's knife. You hoped that your display of mercy would make him willing to give up its location, but he stood his ground. He vowed to never let you see the knife, even if you did swear not to use it on the angels. The knife's power was too much for one to handle; he couldn't guarantee that after you used it on the rowdy demon faction, you wouldn't just turn around and use it on him or his brothers. Once the knife got a taste for blood, it always wanted more.

No matter what you told him about the threats of war in Hell and on Earth, he refused you. His stubbornness made your jaw clench, but you knew when to pick your battles. When the precious humans were in danger, he would be willing to give it up. Despite not wanting for it to get that bad, you knew it was the only way.

So, you'd wait, and until then, you'd drive him crazy with your flirtatious comments.

The next few days were…off, to say the least. You spent a lot of your time trying to get a feel for Sam's godly aura - something that had a distinct smell and feel to it most angels didn't even realize - but there was nothing. Every corner you turned, every chapel you visited, was hollow. Cold and empty, much like the feeling in your chest the longer you didn't see him. You knew it was possible he was just avoiding you, but you couldn't help but feel a little dreadful.

If something happened to Sam, you'd unleash Hell on earth. You would rip through every being you had to in order to get to him. The heavens haven't seen true bloodshed until you've put your mind to it, especially if you were going to avenge your non-existent lover.

But as you sat in one of Sam's favorite sanctuaries, you wondered if he had finally grown tired of your games. He was an angel after all, and you were nothing but a demon. Scum of the earth; knight of darkness and destruction. A small voice in the back of your head reminded you that you would never be any more to him. You looked around and realized, he might not have been missing at all, he may have just decided you were no longer worthy of his presence. You weren't sure which idea hurt more, and you didn't really want to take time to analyze it.

The funny thing about sadness is that it eats you from the inside. The harder you try to push it down, the more power you seem to give it. Even as you sat there, staring at the ethereal paintings on the ceiling, you couldn't stop the sadness from burning a hole into your heart. You closed your eyes and exhaled, feeling the heat from all the Bibles burning around you. And you smiled - not fully, but enough to push down the sadness once more.

"Where is my brother?" You opened your eyes and looked over at Steve, who went to work trying to put out the small fires you set. "For the love of dad, did you really have to burn the Bibles? You could have gone for the hymnals, at least!"

You hummed disinterestedly. "Why are you asking me about Sammy? I figured he went back to Heaven by now."

"He hasn't been home in months, but he usually checked in with me. I haven't heard from him in days now."

Okay, so maybe he was missing, and maybe you were too quick to start throwing yourself a pity party, but could anyone blame you? No one had to know you were willing to burn down a church simply because you thought Sam abandoned you.

"The last I saw Sam he was alive and well, I can promise you," you purred just to get under Steve's skin. "If I'm being honest, though, I haven't seen him since then. He usually pops up to scold me when I start trouble, and I did everything I could to get his attention! I even kicked a toddler, and he never came. I should have realized he could never get bored with me; obviously someone has taken him."

Steve blinked several times, trying his best to process your words. He didn't know where to start - the fact that you both tend to end up in each other's company willingly or that you would go so far as to kick a toddler to see him. He shook his head. How Sam managed to put up with your antics was beyond Steve. He always told his brother that a demon like you wasn't worth watching over, but Sam always had one excuse or another. Lately, he claimed it was to make sure you didn't find Lilith's knife, but even that excuse was flimsy at best.

He wanted to be in your company, and it baffled Steve most of all.

"I'm not going to touch any of that," he quickly shook his head and tried to push the disturbing thoughts out of his head. "Nat said there was rebellion going on in Hell. Do you think demons might have taken him to get under her skin?"

"I wouldn't put it past them, but I honestly think if the demon faction on Earth kidnapped him it's because they want Lilith's knife."

"And let me guess you want me to give it to you."

You nodded as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "If demons are behind Sammy's disappearance, they need to be taken out. Lilith's knife can do that, and you know it!"

"You think I'm foolish enough to give a blade that can kill demons and angels to a psychotic demon with stabbing tendencies?" Steve scoffed. "You're off your rocker even more than usual."

A moment passed, and your passive façade finally cracked. You kicked Steve, full force against his abdomen, and sent him flying towards the altar. He caught himself before he landed on the podium, but he didn't have enough time to block your next blow to his side. You knew it was enough to knock the air from his lungs and catch him off guard, so you quickly grabbed his throat and forced him to his knees. His angel strength usually made him an even match, but your rage was the one thing fueling you. It was too much for him to fight off.

You squeezed until he was gasping for air and slapping at your hands. His eyes grew wide when he looked up at you and realized you were in full demon form - eyes black, teeth pointed behind your sinister snarl, and your skin slowly flaking off and turning to ash. He had never seen you like this, and for once, he feared his life despite knowing you couldn't really kill him.

You leaned in close, letting him get a good whiff of the rotted flesh and brimstone. "Let me make something very clear, Michael, you will give me that knife because the longer you wait, the more danger my Sammy may be in. And if he gets hurt, I will tear the world apart until it rains blood for eternity. You and your daddy will have nothing to protect anymore, do you understand me?"

Steve shuddered as you dropped him to the floor. The use of his real name never brought a chill down his spine until it came from your lips. He knew, somewhere deep inside of him, that you no longer wanted the knife for yourself; you wanted it to end those who dared to take Sam away from you.

Realization dawned on him in that moment. You loved him. It was something he never knew a demon could be capable of, but your protectiveness…your anger…it all made sense now. You wouldn't let anything happen to Sam, and he knew giving you the knife wouldn't be the worst idea. The other angels might frown upon it, but they wouldn't question Steve's judgement. He'd make them understand why he had to, and why you were somehow the most trustworthy person to take it.

"I'll get you the knife," he gasped. "You find out where my brother is, and I will meet you there with the knife."

You slowly turned back into your "presentable" self at his words. The relief that you wouldn't have to torture the information out of Steve flooded you. Sam would be incredibly unhappy if he knew you hurt his family, even if it was a little deserved.

"I can find out within the hour, I have someone who owes me a few favors," you replied. "Keep an eye out for my text. I'll give you the coordinates on where to find me once I know."

Without another word, you disappeared, off to cause trouble wherever you needed to. Steve stood there, hands dropped at his side and a deep sigh escaping his lips. There was one problem to your plan: he didn't have a phone.

The moon just started to rise when you stepped through the dilapidated gates of the cemetery. Fog clung to the ground, making everything damp and humid. Bits of leaves stuck to the bottom of your boots as you walked, but you didn't care. You just wanted to get to Sam.

You felt in your element, oddly enough. Surrounded by darkness, Lilith's knife grasped tightly in your hand. You knew the night would end in a blood bath. The demons weren't going to let Sam go willingly, and you mentally prepared yourself for what he was about to witness. If you lost control, even for a split second, your true form would come out again. You knew he would never love you anyways, but once he got a real look at you, whatever tiny amount of hope you clung onto would be squashed.

None of it mattered, though. You only cared for Sam's safety.

The faction waited for you in one of the larger mausoleums. They almost seemed too relaxed as you walked in, as if the party couldn't start until you arrived. You glanced over and saw Sam bound, gagged, and tossed in the corner. You forced yourself to take a deep breath and not let the rage consume you over the sight of him.

Mystique, the leader of the faction, casually hopped down from the top of the stone casket and made her way to you. Her movements reminded you of a lioness, calm and in control as she stalked closer to her prey. She wasn't scared of you, and that was the one thing you were hoping for; you wanted her to underestimate just how cruel you could be.

She walked around you in circles, taking in your presence with a hungry grin on her face. Her eyes lingered on Lilith's knife longer than anywhere else, but she made no advances to take it from you.

"I see you brought the knife," she practically purred in delight. "I'm surprised the angels were so willing to hand it over, but I see kidnapping one of their own was the best way to get their attention."

"You weren't just trying to get their attention," you replied calmly. "You were trying to get mine as well."

"Well, I did have a feeling taking your lover boy would get you here."

You refused to look back at Sam, even though you wanted to. You had to lie your way out of her trap, and you wouldn't be able to contain yourself if you made eye contact with him in this moment. And you wouldn't be able to hide any of your emotions from Mystique.

"He means nothing to me. He was just a means to get Lilith's knife."

As the words left your mouth, your chest started to ache. You silently prayed - something you never thought you could bring yourself to do - that Sam wouldn't believe your words. Whether he ever planned on loving you back or not, you didn't want him to think you only saw him as a means to an end. If he never gave you the knife, you wouldn't have cared because you got to spend time with him. That was more than enough for you.

"For a demon, you're a terrible liar," Mystique sneered. "I've been watching you two. I know the truth, and honestly? I feel a little sad for you, Y/N."

Your lips formed a tight line, and you took a slow breath through your nose. "Why is that?"

"Because you're dumb enough to think he'll fall for you one day. Do you not see the heartbreak you're setting yourself up for? An angel will never see you as anything but the perverted failure of his father, and you are dumb enough to think he could ever see you as anything else." Her words cut into you, and you had nothing to retort. She was right; you came to terms with this before you ever step foot into his life. You weren't meant to fall for him and yet…you did. You tricked yourself. "Even Nat believes she is better than us, it's why we needed to take action! Can't you see? We're your family. We're able to give you what these angels never could - power and belonging. I know you crave both despite all your past protests."

She wrapped her arm around your shoulders and forced you to look at Sam. Her lips were next to your ear, and though you couldn't see it, you knew she was smirking. "All you have to do is kill him. Kill Gabriel and we'll accept you into our group. I can be a fair better leader than Nat ever could."

Sam's eyes grew wide as you stalked towards him. Mystique's words ran through your mind on a constant loop. He would never see you as anything other than a demon; he would never be able to love you the way you so desperately desired. The longer you stared at him, the easier it was to come to terms with that. But it didn't mean he deserved to die.

"There is one thing I think you are forgetting in all of this," you finally said, turning your back on Sam to face Mystique.

"And what is that, my dear?"

You shoved the knife through her throat, ignoring the spray of blood hitting your face. The other demons stood, ready to attack, but they faltered when they realized no one was going to give them an order. Mystique was too busy choking on her own blood.

Just before the light faded from her eyes, you leaned in close and whispered, "You get on my last fucking nerve."

You pulled the knife out and let her body drop to the ground. She was gone for good this time. Wherever the beings went when they were killed with Lilith's knife, you knew it wasn't Hell; she would never be able to crawl her way back to Earth and cause more trouble.

The other demons stood in shock as you stepped over her body. They didn't want to fight in you in fear of losing their own lives, but as you flipped the knife in your hand, they knew they had no choice. You weren't going to let any of them walk out of there alive. They started too much trouble for you and for Nat. This was your way of tying up loose ends.

You gave them props for putting up a good enough fight. They weren't coordinated without Mystique telling them what to do, but they tried their best. Even when bodies started to drop, and the smell of blood lingered heavily in the air, they fought tooth and nail to get away from you. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough. Not a single demon stepped through the mausoleum doors alive. Well, besides you of course, but that was kind of obvious.

Once everyone was taken care of, you made your way over to Sam. You looked him over several times, and a pout began to form on your lips.

"You're not wearing orange today!" You whined as you pulled the rag from his mouth. "I thought we agreed you'd wear orange the rest of your life for me."

He let out an exasperated breath. "You're insane, you know that?"

"Well I heard-"

"If quote Alice in Wonderland and tell me all the best people are crazy, I'm going to shoot you," Sam grumbled, kicking away the ropes from his ankles in a hurry.

You beamed over at him. It was the kind of smile that made you look unhinged, and the blood spattered on your cheeks didn't help. "Ooh, gunplay? Sounds kinky, I'm in! But I'm pretty sure you don't even know how to work a gun, so I'll have to teach you."

"Please don't."

Sam took your hand and allowed you to help him stand. He had been tied up for days, and he caught himself using the wall to keep himself from tipping over again as the blood started to rush to his limbs again. He noticed how you stayed close enough to catch him if he fell over but kept your distance to give him some space. You assumed he needed a break from being surrounded by demons, and you weren't entirely wrong. He just didn't include you in the list of demons he wanted to stay away from.

You quietly let him pull himself together and got to work on piling the demons' bodies on top of each other. Not many groundskeepers entered mausoleums, but you didn't want to risk anyone finding them. You made a mental note to return with some lighter fluid and take care of the remains before the sun rose. It wouldn't please Nat to know you left bodies out in the open for anyone to find.

Sam tried to shift his weight onto one foot, and he grunted in surprise when a sharp pain shot through his ankle. You were by his side instantly, using your shoulder support most of his weight.

"Are you okay?" You asked, searching his face for any signs of discomfort.

He nodded. "I'm not sure how, but I think they might have broken my ankle. It should heal soon, though."

"Let's get you to a safe place to rest. I need to get the knife back to Steve, and we don't really need any other demons stumbling on your injured self."

"You're actually giving the knife back?" His surprise made you wince. You told him the only thing you needed the knife for was the get the demon faction under control, but he never believed you.

Because you're a demon, your thoughts reminded you.

"I told you I only needed the knife for one thing Sammy," you huffed and helped him step out into the cemetery. "I would never lie to you."

Sam said nothing, but he quietly examined the side of your face as you walked together. He wasn't sure what he felt in that moment besides confusion. Deep down, he already knew you weren't one to lie to him, but he didn't understand why. Why you went to great lengths just to save him. Why you hated virgin sacrifices and didn't take souls. Why you spent most of your time around him when you could have been doing anything else. You were supposed to be a typical demon consumed by a lust for blood, sex, and souls, yet you had proven time and time again that you were far from his expectation.

He wondered if Mystique had been right - were you in love in with him? The thought of you being in love with him made him question everything he thought he already knew.

He couldn't bring himself to understand why he liked the way you flirted him, or why he wore orange just to see you smile. He easily could have gone back to Heaven by now, but he always found an excuse to stay. To see you.

As you escorted him through the gates and far away from the stench of blood, he sucked in a sharp breath. Perhaps Mystique wasn't right about everything. She claimed Sam could never see you as anything but a demon, but as he looked up at you now, that was the last thing on his mind. All he saw was the woman he finally admitted to himself he was in love with.

You slipped into the pew beside Sam, who had fully recovered from last night's incident. You were exhausted after spending your night burning bodies and tracking down Steve to return the knife. Even he seemed surprised you gave it up willingly, but you didn't bother to banter with him about it. You were tired of the angels always thinking the worst of you.

You leaned your head against Sam's shoulder, half-expecting him to pull away in disgust, but he didn't. He sat there in silence as you closed your eyes and let yourself relax for a few moments.

The silence between you two wasn't uncomfortable. Both of you felt like you had been to Hell and back, and not much needed to be said about that. You were still covered in blood, and your clothes reeked of burnt flesh. Sam, who was fully healed, rubbed at his wrists to try and get the phantom feeling of the rope away. You almost made a joke about how a fucked up demon sat next to an equally fucked up angel, but the humor died on your tongue before you could get it out. It was just too much effort.

Sam sighed and pressed his cheek against the top of your head. "She was wrong, you know."

"About what?" You murmured so softly, you weren't sure you spoke out loud.

"About my feelings for you."

You sat up and groaned, feeling all of your muscles groan along with you. "Don't tease me, Sam. It actually hurts my feeling for you to lie to me like this."

"I'm not lying!"

"Sure, you're not."

He grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him. The sincerity in his eyes made your stomach churn. You knew how this played out because he wasn't supposed to love you; he wasn't supposed to see you as anything but a demon. Not a single celestial being would ever approve of him falling in love with you, and you would never be able to find peace.

"Listen to me," he began with a small, hopeful smile, "I love you. Do I fully understand it? Absolutely not. You're crazy, and I'm pretty sure you kill pedophiles for breakfast. You also willingly kick toddlers, which I don't approve but…I love you."

"No one will approve us being together, you know," you whispered as if someone was already listening in on you. "Not God, not Nat, not Steve. They'll always have something to say about us."

"Then let's get out of here for a bit."

"Where?"

"Anywhere you want to go." You quickly glanced to the side, and he rolled his eyes. "If you make another comment about that confessional booth, I will lose my mind."

You softly laughed and leaned in ever so slightly. You were officially invading his space, but you weren't making the first move yet. You wanted to give him one last chance to change his mind, to come to his senses or whatever it was he needed to do, before he turned his back on everything he knew just to be with you. Would it hurt? Absolutely. But you needed to know that this was going to last between you two. You weren't sure if you could live with the heartbreak of losing Sam.

"I think you've already lost your mind, Sammy," you teased. "You want to be with a demon after all."

He cupped your cheek in his hand, gently stroking your bottom lip with his thumb. It was an act so intimate, it almost caught you off guard. He stared at you silently before his lips finally met yours, and you nearly collapsed into his arms with how ecstatic you were to finally get a taste of him.

The kiss was hungry - full of teeth and breathless groans. You were exploring every inch of each other that you possibly could without tearing each other's clothes off. Sam practically came to life underneath you as his hands roamed up your side. Your name died on his lips - a prayer only you could hear. You thought about pulling back and reminding him that you were in the house of his father, but that would require you to stop kissing him, and you had no intention of stopping any time soon.

When he finally pulled away from, your chests were heaving, and you smiled over at him. He appreciated how gentle your smile seemed now. Even with the dried blood on your skin, there was a warmth in your eye that made your smile fill his chest with joy. A lot less unhinged, he would say.

"So," you pushed his back against the pew and crawled onto his lap, your knees straddling either side of his thighs, "You said we could go anywhere in the world, right?"

"Besides the confessional booth," he retorted with a smile as he caressed the side of your face.

You paused, trying to get used to him looking at you like you were the only woman in the universe. It felt odd but not entirely in a bad way. You spent most of your time denying he could ever look at you this way, and here he was, proving your doubts wrong. You weren't sure if it made you want to cry or kiss him until he caved and pulled you right into the confessional.

He claimed you wouldn't convince him, but you'd get him to crack one day.

"Besides the confessional booth," you laughed. "I spent a lot of time here, pestering you and scaring children in the cemetery. I think it'd be nice to get out of the country, explore the world a little bit."

"You haven't done that already?"

You shook your head. "I spent a lot of time staying close to Nat. She needed a strong right-hand woman, and I was the one who wanted to fill the job. I mean, Maria is great, but she's better at handling souls and all their pesky little contracts."  

"Where do you want to go then? We can go anywhere you want, and we can get there for free thanks to my wings."

"Can I convince you to give the confessional booth a whirl?"

Sam sighed dramatically, not in annoyance but enough to make you laugh. "Absolutely not."

"Fine," you pouted. "I guess we can start with Greece, as long as you agree to wear your orange v-neck again."

[ethereal-wishes]

Mutual Ties

Princess Elisabelle of Avonlea stood before her captor, a satisfied smirk painted on her lips and madness in her murderous blue eyes. She was nary afraid, and this unnerved the guards overseeing her. A wide grin stretched across her porcelain face as he strolled into the throne room. He was regal and dastardly, and she had him right where she wanted him.

“Princess Elisabelle, we still haven’t come to terms for the release of your father and brother. Are you unperturbed by their harsh sentencing?” Her captor inquired in his thick brogue.

The princess shrugged nonchalantly. “They can both bloody hang for all I care.”

“Ahh, so no terms for their pardoning then? Is there anyone I could mercilessly torture that would make you more agreeable?” He probed, dusting a calloused finger down her jawline.

“Everyone I love is dead,” she answered flatly.

He yanked his hand away, biting back a curse. “I’m Rumple Von Stiltskin the conquer! I’m not a bloody negotiator! Your piss poor country has been subjugated, and you don’t seem to give a damn.”

She nodded emotionlessly. “Correct. Perhaps with new leadership my people won’t starve. You’re the wealthiest tyrant in all the realms. Surely you can spare them a morsel or two.”

He paused, analyzing her weary eyes and defeated persona. She wasn’t afraid of him because she had nothing to lose. He’d witnessed that look many times before, standing in the mirror as he gazed at his own reflection. He hadn’t been that man in a very long time, a far shadow from the cutthroat bastard he was today.

“You seem overly elated I’m here, and yet I’m the most feared villain in all the realm,” he noted.

“I guess that depends on everyone’s perception of you. You’re the answer to my prayers. I’ve been waiting for someone like you to swoop in and overthrow my traitorous father’s mutinous reign,” she spoke freely, her wit sharp and eyes piercing.

“And if I slit your pretty little throat, would I still be an answer to your prayers?” He taunted.

“You won’t lay a finger on me. You never persecute the women or children in the places you vanquish,” she clarified brazenly.

He was silent for a long moment. “Read up on me, have you?”

“No, I’m just an excellent judge of character,” she supplied, removing her dingy lace gloves. He blinked owlishly when she showed him her hands. Deep cuts and scars marred her spellbinding flesh. She was too lovely for words, and he longed to disembowel the person responsible for inflicting such pain upon her.

“Who did this to you?” He demanded with a sharp intake of breath.

“My father and brother. I loathe them both. I was punished for gifting a small kitchen maid some plum pudding. We had more than enough to eat, and the way she gaped at me with her hollow eyes – pained from hunger. How could I deny her?” She stifled back an onslaught of tears. “That’s how papa preferred them, starving and submitted.”

Rumple dismounted onto one knee, clasping her scarred hand, and drawing it to his lips. He seared a reverent kiss to the underside of her wrist. “Princess, what is it you desire of me?” he remarked breathlessly.

“A new name and a new crown,” she requested shamelessly.

He granted her an assessing look. “I’m a hard man to love with an impossible heart to tame.”

“I never said I was looking for love, my liege. I simply wish to be rid of this traitorous title,” she said, meeting his gaze with valor shining in her azure depths.

He chuckled darkly at her heroism, believing he had finally met his match. “And what shall my new bride desire as her wedding gift?”

Belle gazed into his eyes, resolute. “To be the one which wields the ax on my father and brother’s execution day,” she requested, her voice void of mercy – her captivating eyes full of bloodlust.

“As you wish, my queen,” he whispered against the shell of her ear, leaving her breathless.

[dany-is-my-queen]

Born To Be Yours | Part VI

Sansa Stark x Fem! Baratheon! Reader (Daenerys Targaryen x Fem! Baratheon! Reader eventually)

Season 1-8

Word count: 1,993

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.7 Pt.8 Pt.9

The Hound was fighting an unarmed opponent atop the Walls of the Red Keep during a tourney to celebrate your brother’s nameday. He knocked his shield away and the man fell hard into the courtyard below.

You were seated next to Myrcella, Sansa was on the opposite edge, faking smiles to keep the King pleased. You grew closer and closer with each day that passes, so as your feelings.

“Well struck, Dog!” He said out loud.

“Did you like that?” He turned to Sansa. You rolled your eyes.

“It was a well struck, your grace.” She replied.

“I already said it was a well struck.”

She waited a few seconds to confirm. “Yes, your grace.”

“Who’s next?”

“Lothor Brune, freerider in the service of Lord Baelish. Ser Dontos the Red of House Hollard.” The announcer exclaimed. The last one didn’t appear to be in his five senses. Joffrey gestured him to have more wine, Ser Meryn Trant and another Kingsguard began to pour the liquid down the funnel and the poor knight gurgled and struggled to continue drinking.

“You can’t!” Sansa suddenly shouted before the man collapsed.

“What did you say? Did you say I can’t?”

“I only meant... it would be bad luck to kill a man on your name day.”

“What kind of stupid peasant’s superstition...”

“The girl is right.” Sandor tossed.

“Yes, she is. You’ll reap what you sow on your nameday.” You added.

“He’ll make such a better fool than a knight. He doesn’t deserve the mercy of a quick death.” How kind of the northerner to save the life of someone she doesn’t even know. Those small actions make you admire her.

“Did you hear my lady, Ser Dontos? From now on you’ll be my new fool!”

“Thank you, your grace. And you, my lady, thank you.” They took him away.

“Beloved nephew.” Your uncle’s voice made you instantly smile. He was accompanied by multiple men.

“We’ve looked for you on the battlefield. Joffrey sat down. “You where nowhere to be found.”

“I was here, ruling the Kingdoms.” You almost sneer.

“What a fine job you’ve done.” He jokingly said.

“My dear niece! You look older and prettier.” He kissed your forehead. You grinned.

“You look younger and more handsome” He winked.

“Look at you!” He smiled at your sister. “More beautiful than ever.”

“And you! You are going to be bigger than the Hound, but much better looking.” The three of you laughed.

“We’ve heard you were dead.” Joffrey unconcernedly said.

“I’m glad you are not dead.” The little princess assured.

“We’ve missed you. We have to catch up.” He nodded towards you.

“And we will. Death is so boring, especially now with so much excitement in the world.” He looked at Sansa. “My lady, I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Her loss? Her father was a confessed traitor!” The blond angrily screamed.

“But still her father. Surely having recently lost your own you can sympathize.” Not his, but yours. You closed your eyes before the grief took over you.

“My father was a traitor. My mother and brother are traitors too. I am loyal to my beloved Joffrey.” All she can do is pretend and say the right words. The loathe she had for him was only getting bigger.

“Of course you are.” Tyrion smirked sympathetically. The redhead looked your way and you gave her a sweet smile.

He left the tent with his group of people ignoring the King’s questions. It’s so good to have your favorite uncle back. You were still concerned about Jaime. Will the Starks trade him for Sansa? It was sure that Robb was not going to come to the capital. Arya was still missing.

You wanted her to be reunited with her family. The other part of you was shattering at the thought of her leaving. If there was an opportunity you would definitely support her, after all, what mattered to you was her safety and happiness, you tried to provide both but nothing can really fill that hole. Not with Joffrey tormenting her. You would be sad but relieved if she left, you couldn’t be selfish.

“Walk with me, my lady.” You offered your arm to Sansa what she gladly accepted.

“Where are we going?”

“I’m going to steal you.” You quipped and saw she blushed a little. “Would you fancy visiting the streets of the city?”

“Yes, I’d love to.” Two soldiers were accompanying you keeping their distance.

“I remember when I used to wander around the castle in Winterfell. They were all warm to each other.” She seemed to recalled.

“The people who live here... some are happy and some are not. They don’t have enough resources to subsist. They manage to survive.” You gave silver and gold coins to the elder and children who roamed.

“My mother used to tell me... humility makes people great. Envy and selfishness makes them small.”

“And she’s right.” You halted in the market. Spotting the tent you usually go to. They make beautiful things. Such as purses, necklaces, bracelets, etc. They are not made of the finest materials but they are nice and these merchants work really hard.

“Princess Y/N! You honor me with your presence.” The black-haired woman said, a friend of yours.

“Hello, Addy. What did you bring today?

“I have these pins. And the two lions you have it made.” She showed you the wood pieces with flawless details.

“Do you like them, Sansa? Choose the ones you want”

“For my siblings and my mother.” She picked five wolf brooches.

“Thank you very much. Say hello to little Cass. And remember, anything she or the other kids on the orphanage need, tell me.” Addy nodded with gratitude and bowed.

“It’s very generous what you do for them. You are truly an angel.” The lady smiled warmly.

“I know being in the Red Keep can be suffocating. I’ll get you out of there anytime I get the chance.”

“You are my hero.” You part ways once you entered the big castle. You headed to your uncle’s new room.

“The Hand of the King... I didn’t see that coming.” He waved at you.

“Me neither, sweet niece. It’s so good to see you! How is everything in here? I just had a meeting with the council. The summer is over. Your mother was quite angry with the fact I’m the Hand in my father’s stead. She brought this on herself. The North has risen up against us when your moron brother called for Ned Stark’s head.”

“I tried to stop him. It was useless. He thinks he owns the world now, he is not ruling cautiously, I fear for my siblings life, for everyone’s life.”

“Luckily I’m here to supervise his moves. Advise him. Save the city. Not as easy as it sounds I’m afraid.”

“Did you stayed out of trouble?” You asked him well knowing the answer.

“Well... I pissed out in the edge of the Wall. I slept in a sky cell. Lady Arryn almost sentenced me to die. I fought with the hill tributes. So many adventures.” You raised an eyebrow.

“Oh I see, that must have been a lot of fun.” Both of you laughed.

“You can’t imagine.”

It has been an unsteady week. Being with little Tommen and Myrcella has been a distraction from the incoming war you’re dealing with. Renly and Stannis proclaimed themselves Kings. You like to be up to date, so you talk with your mother about these matters.

“My uncles... they’re going to get here anytime soon. We have to be prepared.”

“They have no claim. Let them try. We’ll kick them off the moment they set foot on the shores.” Cersei declared dryly.

“I’ve heard some... disturbing rumors about-“

“You believe them?”

“Absolutely not. I’m just curious.” You shrugged.

“Everyone’s intention is to tear our family apart. Destroy us from within. This gossip is just feeding those who don’t want your brother on the throne.” And you said nothing more.

“You’re losing the people, do you hear me?” Tyrion tried to make her listen.

“The people, you think I care?”

“You should.” You told her, annoyed by her apathy.

“Yes. You might find it difficult to rule over millions who want you dead. Half the city will starve when winter comes. The other half will plot to overthrow you. And your gold-plated thugs just gave them the rallying cry, “The Queen Slaughter babies.” She remained silent. “You don’t even have the decency to deny it.” You scowled. “It wasn’t you who gave the order, was it? Joffrey didn’t even tell you. Or did he? I imagine that would be even worse.” Your uncle growled.

“He did what needed to be done!”

“No. They were innocent. What’s wrong with you? What kind of King is he becoming? You objected.

“You don’t even know who they were, Y/N. This is what ruling is! Lying on a bed of weeds, ripping them out by the root one by one before they strangle you in your sleep.”

“I’m no king, but I think there’s more ruling than that.”

“You’ve never taken it seriously. It’s all fallen on me.”

“As has Jaime repeatedly. According to Stannis Baratheon.” You averted your eyes.

“How dare you say that kind of filthy lies in front of my daughter!” The Queen Regent gave him a withering look. “You’ve always been funny. But none of your jokes will ever match the first one, will they? You remember... when you ripped my mother, open your way out of her and she bled to death.” It hurt to see the look of your uncle’s face.

“She was my mother too.”

“Now she’s gone, for the sake of you. There’s no bigger joke in the world than that.” She stormed out, you followed her.

“You shouldn’t be so cruel with my uncle. If I had lost you when either Myr or Tom were born I would never blame them. I know it must have been pretty hard growing up without your mom, but don’t take it out on him.”

“She died so he could live. A little freak. An abomination.” She spat poison.

“Don’t speak of him that way.”

“Why you defend him so much?”

“Cause he is my family. He is a good person.”

“Joffrey is also your family. And yet you detest him.”

“He has a serious problem. You don’t want to see it or maybe you’re okay with it. Remember when we were kids? I was four and he was five. He used to find pleasure on pushing me, you just stared at us and said it was a normal thing. I grew up and I was able to defend myself, one time I did it and you freaked out, you yelled at me, made me feel so small... you held him while I was sobbing, just because I moved when he tried to hit me making him fell to the ground. Of course, it was my fault according to both of you. How many times did Joffrey hurt me? Said I was ugly cause I wasn’t blonde like him? That I didn’t deserve to be a princess, he was so mean to me and you never lectured him. I recall how many nights I spent crying alone in my room wondering why my mother didn’t care enough to stand up for me when my big brother treated me like I was worthless. You broke my heart a very long time ago. I learned how to pick up the pieces. I’m not that helpless little girl anymore.” You could feel your eyes starting to get teary. You didn’t expect her to say something soothing. Cersei apparently ran out of words, you thanked for her silence instead of lying to you, deep down you hoped she’d embrace you. It was too much to ask for. You lingered a bit more before turning and leaving. Heartbroken once more.

[avatraang]

Summary: “Hey,” Sokka’s voice is soft. “Come with me. I’ve missed you.”

Distantly, Toph supposes that even the earth moves unsteadily at times; after all, isn’t that how earthquakes are caused?

Notes: This idea has been in my head for literal years. there's a lot of swearing in this story, because you can't tell me Toph wouldn't swear. it takes place over a number of decades. it touches briefly on the comics and on LOK, but not so heavily that you have to have read them or seen the series to understand what's happening. This is a slightly Alternate Universe to that of the comics and of the LOK series. It is a part of my "To Transcend Lifetimes" series, but is not heavily related to the other works in this series. Oh, and also: I know NOTHING about fortune telling. I apologize in advance if I fucked it up royally.

Preview:

Toph doesn’t really bat an eye when she gets a letter from a small Earth village in the middle of bumbafuck. Her secretary reads it to her and she shrugs it off; it gets thrown on her dining room table most unceremoniously. She spends the rest of the week doing what she usually does: focusing on her school and being a little too bored. To be grounded is in her nature, but Toph also has a strange tendency to get restless. Her body starts to twitch and her spirit grows bored. Nothing good has ever come from a bored Toph.

It’s a very un-Earthbender like personality trait; in fact, Zuko once dumbly commented on how it was almost an Air Nomad quality. Aang had agreed. They both got a rock to the shin for that, as well as a stern, “Don’t compare me to Twinkle Toes and his girly methods!”

But, sucky as it was, Toph had to admit, Zuko had a point. She tried to break out of the habit, tried to be grounded like her ancestors were, like her people had a tendency to be. Yet she has always been the type to crave adventure, to crave something new.

Still. She’s stubborn. That is an Earth Native trait. So the letter sits, unanswered on her dining room table. It’s the end of the week before it’s noticed again. This time instead of the slender, white hands of her apprentice, it is touched by working hands. They are calloused, rough, scarred. And dark. She doesn’t know what dark looks like, but she does know that he’s it.

His visit comes as a surprise; yet it’s change, so she welcomes him openly. Sokka’s footsteps are a little more tired than they were during his last encounter with his best friend, and from what she can tell, he’s taller. He’s lost some weight. But that’s the extent of the differences. At least, from what she can sense.

Yet she knows it is him before he’s even knocked on the door.

She acts on impulse; she can’t help it. When it comes to Sokka, Toph has always been hard pressed to control her actions. She sprints through her house, narrowly avoiding running into people or knocking things over. “Sifu Toph!” One of them cries out, dancing around her as she teeters plates in her hands. Toph bends a seat behind her, catching the girl just as she falls.

“Watch where you’re going!” Toph calls over her shoulder, but it’s well natured. The girl only rolls her eyes (something Toph can’t see, but wouldn’t be surprised to hear). Screeching to a halt at the door, Toph throws it open most unceremoniously, revealing Sokka standing there, hand poised to knock on her door. “Sokka!” She grins at him, “what are you doing here?”

He blinks twice, then drops his hand. If Katara or Aang were here, they might have exchanged a hug, but with just them, they simply stare at each other instead, grinning from ear to ear. It’s strange, two best friends who don’t touch each other like that unless other people are around. She wonders what Katara would think. “How’d you know I was here?”

“I would recognize your clumsy ass footsteps anywhere.”

“It’s good to hear you’re obsessed with me, even after all these years.” He teases her, expecting full-well to get punched in the arm. She doesn’t disappoint. Allowing him inside, she falls silent, waiting for Sokka to answer her.

He stretches as they breeze past servants, heading for her dining room, where lunch is soon to be served. Today is a resting day, hence why she’s not working her students to a pulp. Whether Sokka knew this, or it had just been luck, is something Toph is unsure of. “Do you know of a village named Makapu?”

There’s a faraway ringing of familiarization in the back of Toph’s mind, but nothing comes to the forefront. “Nah. Why?”

Sokka’s eyebrows curl together. “That’s weird. You should have gotten a letter. No wonder you missed your train.”

Toph settles down at the table. “Huh?”

“We waited for you this whole week and you never showed, so I grabbed Appa and dipped to get you.”

Now Toph is thoroughly confused. “What the fuck are you talking about? Who’s we? And I never sensed Appa.”

Sokka rolls his eyes. “That’s because there was no room for him to land in this crowded almost-city of yours. He’s on the outskirts, with Zuko.”

“Sparky?!”

“Spirits, I can’t believe you didn’t get that letter.” Sokka sits down next to her and pinches his nose. Peering at her messy table, he begins to idly sort through her mail until he sees a letter in familiar wording. “What the fuck,” Sokka says, tone accusatory, “you lied to me! You did get it! You even opened it!”

“Hell no I didn’t,” Toph denies. “I would’ve remembered a letter with your names in it.”

“Madame Bei Fong,” Sokka reads, “The people of Makapu Village hereby formally invite you to...” he trails off. “These dumbasses. They didn’t mention us, or the train already booked for you.”

“Sokka.”

“What?”

“What the hell are you talking about.”

“Katara, Aang, Zuko, and I were on our way to get you so we could go to Ba Sing Sei.”

“As planned.”

“Yeah.” Sokka nods, “anyways. We stopped in Makapu, a place where Katara and Aang and I had stopped a long time ago, before you and Zuko. We – er, well, Aang – saved the place from a volcanic eruption. Since we were there, we figured we might as well fortify their protection, and we called on you for help. But you never answered, so Zuko and I came to get you.”

“I see.” Toph tilts her head, considering. Leaving now would leave no one in charge of her students; it would break her out of her routine. Already, with the upcoming trip to Ba Sing Sei, she’d prepared meticulously. The sudden change would overthrow all her old preparations.

Next to her, Toph can sense Sokka staring at her. His breathing is even; he’s leaning towards her, expectant. She wonders, not for the first time, what her best friend looks like.

To be steady, or to veer off course.

To veer off course, or to be steady.

“Hey,” Sokka’s voice is soft. “Come with me. I’ve missed you.”

Fuck.

She swallows, hiding her face from him.

Distantly, Toph supposes that even the earth moves unsteadily at times; after all, isn’t that how earthquakes are caused?

“Let me get my stuff,” she grumbles, and the whoop of happiness Sokka lets out makes it all worth it. 

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