#(she's liable to hurt herself in her confusion)

[dollycxre]

yandere PJO! athena x demigod! darling 🗡🦉 - general hcs

!!WARNINGS!!: yandere, obsessive and stalkerish behavior, manipulation, really harsh and cruel punishments, Athena loves watching you suffer, clinginess, possessiveness, isolation, deceiving, jealousy, threats, mentions of violence, she's slightly toxic but her immortal heart is in the right place, I lied she's really toxic please don't ever get in a relationship with someone like her

pairing/s: yandere pjo!athena x demigod!darling

A/N: there wasn't enough athena content so I decided to do it myself :) also, this is my first fic and English is not my first language so I apologise for any spelling errors and such!

• you were a demigod who had somehow survived and become an adult, which now meant you had to find something to do. After the roman camp, camp Jupiter and your own camp; camp half-blood had made peace, the older campers from your camp had started going to the college in camp Jupiter. You were bored and decided that it wouldn't hurt to go to college and find something to do after the war against Gaia

• so you started studying harder in the mortal school you went to, preparing to apply to the college. it was a little hard to concentrate, with all the monsters attracted to your scent who had decided that you would make quite the tasty demigod snack and all the jobless mortals who somehow didn't find the time to grow up and instead decided to make your life as hard as possible

• you decided to drop out and study on your own instead, knowing that there was an option to take an entrance exam instead, something you found out from Chiron during an orientation Mr. D reluctantly conducted after mixing several ounces of wine into his diet coke

• to make your task easier, you went to the smartest people you knew; the athena campers, to help you study and of course they were more than happy to. And so, the daily visits to their cabin began

• and that, is when you caught the eye of the very goddess of wisdom and war who the cabin was dedicated to; Athena herself

• at first, she didn't think much of you, just another demigod in her cabin, probably to consult with one of her children, quite a common occurrence, considering how smart her children were, a trait they got from their mother

• but as you started to visit her cabin more and more frequently, she couldn't help but pay attention to you. to her surprise, you wouldn't leave her mind. you always occupied her thoughts and she found herself unable to concentrate

• at first she dismissed it, she always had mortals and demigods alike peak her interest but they faded eventually

• however, no matter how hard she tried, she found herself watching you for hours, learning everything about you and observing your smallest habits

• once she learned about your ambition to go to college and the reason why you visited her cabin, she used her powers to encourage you to focus, allowing your brain to learn easier and faster

• when she couldn't take the unhealthy way you invaded her thoughts anymore, she decided to act on it. she visited her demigod children in their dreams and told them to act as if she was a regular demigod when she showed up at camp. her children, confused but unable to derive their mother's true intentions and wanting to please her, agreed

• the next day, a well dressed yet stand offish girl, about your age, with stunningly intelligent gray eyes approached you outside your cabin and asked you to accompany her and show her around. you were a little stunned since you weren't popular or well known enough in camp to be actively sought out but agreed and started showing the mysterious girl around

• once you finished, she was claimed by athena and you lead her to Cabin 6. you found it odd how everyone in the cabin seemed to stress about her and flinch as if she was liable to burst into flames at any moment but you dismissed it.

• after all, even you felt the very clear aura radiating about the strange girl, the way she talked as if she was much much older and mature than she let on and the pure air of intelligence that seemed to hang about her, the way her piercing gray eyes seemed to calculate every move you made and how her thoughts seemed universes ahead, beyond human comprehension

• she made you lightly uneasy but you soon found out she was the only one who truly understood how your brain worked. with her, your studies went better than you could have ever imagined and you finished your work effortlessly with her. the athena campers however, still seemed jumpy around her, particularly Annabeth, the head counsellor and one of the seven to save the world against Gaia

• you dismissed it again, choosing to turn a blind eye to the girl who had caught your heart. it was almost impossible not to fall for her, the way she made you laugh just with her brutally honest yet knowledgeable words, the way her beautiful gray eyes picked up on every thought that passed in your head and the way she noticed and admired all your little mannerisms

• this girl was, of course, Athena in disguise, choosing to make you fall in love as an ordinary demigod as she knew that claiming you as hers would be a much easier task if your heart was already hers

• once she was positive that she had you wrapped around her finger, she immediately revealed her true form and confessed boldly to you and of course you accepted, mostly out of fear of what would happen to you if you rejected a goddess, not to mention one of the most powerful ones

• Athena, being the goddess of wisdom, is the smartest of the yandere gods. Once she has you, she won't make you immortal like other gods would, instead, she binds your life force to hers, which allows you to function as an immortal but feel pain like a mortal

• she loves using this against you for punishment and her most common punishments are letting you teeter on the brink of death while you suffer in pain and misery

• she's a paranoid goddess and keeps you far far away from the other Olympians. She knows that the minor gods are too terrified to try to cross her or even look in your direction so she doesn't worry about them. She's mostly worried that someone (*cough cough* aphrodite *cough cough*) will take your heart and the casualties of the wars that would follow would have a devasting effect on your mental health

• she only trusts Hestia and occasionally, Artemis with you

• Hestia because she would probably love and take care of you like a daughter in her hearth and Artemis because she would be too busy to pay enough attention to you for you to fall for her, only giving her attention to make sure you were alive and in one piece

• she will also sometimes drop you off at her cabin in camp half-blood, partially so you can reunite with your friends and visit the camp which had been your home for so long and partially so that her children can keep an eye on you

• she warns her children not to let you out of their sight and as a result, you are constantly tailed by atleast 2 of the cabin 6 campers, eager to please their difficult mother and earn her favor

• anyone who hurts you or dares to fall for you is in for a nasty fate

• Athena may not have as much power as Zeus or as much time to craft her punishments like Hera but being the goddess of wisdom and war comes with the additional perks of being able to think up one of the most horrible punishments ever known in a matter of rage filled seconds so most of the campers tend to stay out of your way, which is both depressing and a relief

• she wants you to be the perfect partner for her, someone gullible and dependant so she'll break you with no remorse or hesitation, knowing that you'll imerge from the trauma as her perfect lover

• if your godly parent dares to try to help you escape, she will find out and she will make sure you regret ever getting the ridiculous thought of leaving her

• if your godly parent is a minor god, they wouldn't dare help you, even if they feel pity for you or anger at Athena. She is not a force to be reckoned with and with love influencing her moves, she will make sure they wish they never even tried

• if your godly parent is one of the olympians, they would probably be more defiant and against your relationship but they would still be too scared to try to act too much on it. Athena is a ruthless goddess and though the most rational, for you, she would willingly start a war without caring for the casualties. They may try to help you escape but Athena is always several thoughts ahead. No matter which scenario, which plan, she's already thought about it and prepared for it accordingly, even preparing the horrifying punishment she will inflict upon you for going along with it

• she loves to use the powers you got from your godly parents against you, just to show you how helpless you are even in your own parent's domain

• her child of Hephaestus s/o was sent a bunch of material and celestial bronze by their father so that they can build something to help them escape? she will personally use those very materials to craft the most terrifying monster she can think of at that moment and let you fight it till you almost die from exhaustion, your only weapon a sword made of celestial bronze while she watches with cruel amusement as you scurry about like a rat in a maze

• oh you're a child of Poseidon who was visited by Poseidon in their dreams and advised on how to best use their powers to escape into their father's territory and claim his protection? she will drag you by your hair to the Underworld and throw you into river Styx and let you dissolve and drown in as you pointlessly fight for breath in what should be your area of expertise, your brain in too much pain and too panicked to think straight, until she's thinks you've learnt your lesson

• Athena has already memorized all your habits and routines. she knows everything about you and will instantly notice if even the slightest thing changes. Thats when she goes on panic mode and isolates you completely, not letting you see anyone but herself and spending time with you until she's convinced you've gotten all other thoughts but her out of your mind

• in short, if you want life to be as easy as you can possibly have it when your fate is entangled with an immortal, you should give in to her completely and as soon as possible which would make life a lot less painful for both you and her

• on a softer note, Athena is very proud of you and shows you off to everyone she possibly can once she decides you're too deeply in love with her to ever fall for anyone else

• she's your number 1 supporter and loves watching you work on your hobbies, praising everything and giving as much helpful criticism as she can

• she'd be delighted if one of your hobbies was also one of hers, such as reading or weaving and loves quietly reading to you in her calm, deep yet soothing voice while you play with her hair or weaving you the most gorgeous tapestries of you to make you feel as confident about your self as she can

• she knows exactly what to do to cheer you up and knows enough about you to know what you need through all your emotions which means that she's always comforting to talk to when you're going through difficulties. she's an amazing listener and will quietly listen to your problems and advise you on the best ways to deal with them

• she can easily make you laugh or cry with her words, her knowledge of you letting her know what evokes emotions in you and what doesn't which allows her to manipulate your emotions with ease, letting her twist you into whatever she wants

• Athena has never been a touchy-feely kind of goddess, nor has she ever wanted it. that is, until she met you, of course.

• she is surprisingly clingy and attached to you and definitely has separation anxiety. she loves having you touch her, the contact alone is enough to make her shudder in happiness and relief

• she feels like your affection is a drug she's addicted to and as a result, she's very needy, demanding that you go everywhere with her and will always have her hand around some part of you, making sure everyone knows who's you are while satisfying her need for your touch

• she may decide to immortalize your closest friends and family if you really desperately ask beg for her to and if you behave well for her

• however, from then on, her neediness increases tenfold. she believes that since she's done you such a huge favor by allowing you to have your loved ones coexist and keep you company for eternity, you should always be ready to drop everything and come running to her when she feels like she wants or needs it

• doesn't really care about the possibility of one of your friends falling for you, she knows both of you will be too scared to ever act on it and if it goes too far, she always has the cruelest punishments prepared for both of you, a message that comes across plain and simple: don't take what's hers.

• she could quietly stare at you and study you for HOURS because no matter what you're doing, she finds you to be the most gorgeous and fascinating person on the earth, a creature so perfect, they managed to catch the attention of the goddess who always believed that she was completely immune to the magic of love, someone who relied on rational thought rather than feelings

• every time she looks at aphrodite, all she sees is you <3

• well you if you were a self absorbed, cunning, well dressed, 7 foot tall goddess

• the point is, she loves you, she has never and will never love anyone like she loves you and you will be her pride and joy, always by her side, till the end of time, living with her and loving her till existence itself crumbles to dust.

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A/N: heyyy, so this turned out longer than I thought it would but the amount of ideas I kept getting made it kinda impossible not to add but yea :) I hope you enjoyed!

[hersterical]

Conversations at the Evil Single-Fathers of Alternative Teenaged Daughters Support Group

Doofenschmirtz: Hello, is this the SFATDSG?

Silco: The what?

D: The Evil Single-Fathers of Alternative Teenaged Daughters Support Group.

Mayor Wilkins: Wow, that is a mouthful. We really oughta work on a better name for the group. And it sure is! What’s your name?

D: I’m Doctor Hienz Doofenschmirtz

S: Wait, I have a few questions for the good doctor before he joins us. Just to make sure he truly belongs

D: Hey! I’m not good, I’m literally evil. If anything I’m a bad doctor.

W: Now Dr. D, can I call you that? Dr. D, just because you’re evil that doesn’t mean you’re not good. Mr. Silco here is as evil as they come and he’s also just about the best father I’ve ever met. He’s a strong leader and a good man and I would bet money that you are as well.

D (wipes tear from his eye): Wow, I really needed to hear that today.

S: Yes…thank you Mayor Wilkins. But I am not evil, I simply am trying to ensure that the Nation of Zaun receives all that we deserve.

W: Yes, but you’ve also committed a lot of murders and other atrocities. Not that I’m judging, who hasn’t right? But that just proves my point, just because you’re evil that doesn’t mean you’re bad.

D: Hold on, back up a bit. You’re a mayor!? My brother, Roger’s a mayor as well and he makes it look so easy! Meanwhile I’ve been spending years, literally putting all of my blood sweat and tears into taking over the tri-state area with no success. It’s just not fair! How’d you do it?

W: I feel ya Doc, it can be frustrating to work so hard and have nothing to show for it. As far as how I did it? I built my platform on being a man of the people. A family man who looks out for the little guy and listens to what the voters have to say. I also used some dark magic, ritual sacrifices, and some minor bribery.

D: hmmm…I’ll have try that. Not the dark magic stuff because I’ve tried that before and it…uh…it didn’t end well.

[a moment of silence passes]

S: You mentioned a brother? I too had a brother. We weren’t born brothers but forged an unbreakable bond. Or at least, it was supposed to be unbreakable. We were friends and partners in all things. Then one day he decided he no longer cared for our cause and tried to kill me. He said it was for the sake of his daughters. It wasn’t until years later that I finally understood when I had a daughter of my own. I would burn down the whole world, including my own aspirations, if it would mean that Jinx is safe.

W: It sounds like the two of you were “brothers” the same way my Faith and that no-good Buffy were “sister” slayers. But we can wait until you’re more comfortable with us to have that conversation if you’d like. But I feel you. I was so close to Ascending but all it took was the mere mention of Faith for me to lose all sense and logic. If I could go back the only thing I would change is I would do better at making sure Faith didn’t get hurt.

D: You guys are preaching to the choir here. More of my evil schemes have been foiled than I can count because I needed to prioritize Vanessa’s needs over my own. And I wouldn’t change a thing. Except it would be nice if Vanessa showed just a little more interest in evil. She has potential she just doesn’t seem to care. She’s so talented and clever she would really thrive in the field.

W: Not my Faith. She took to evil like a duck to water and she’s got a real talent for it. She considers herself to be a bit of an artist and I’m liable to agree with her. I just wish she didn’t care so much about what that Buffy and those other kids thought of her. All they do is hurt her, try to distance her from me, and get in the way of my plans.

S: And I wish Jinx would distance herself from Vi, her sister. She confuses Jinx and tries to change her into something she isn’t instead of just loving her for who she is. And Vi is also always trying to get in the way of my plans.

W: Isn’t that just so frustrating? How about you Doc? Does your daughter have a complicated relationship with a young do-gooder with a penchant for punching first, asking questions later, and getting in the way of your plans?

D: You mean…like a nemesis? I have one of those! He’s my best friend. Our relationship is pretty simple but I’m not sure what his relationship with Vanessa is like. You know what, I’ll just call her and ask.

[Doof calls Vanessa]

D: Vanessa, you picked up! I’m putting you on speaker because I need you to answer a question for me. What’s your relationship like with Perry the Platypus? Would you describe it as complicated?

Vanessa: I mean, he’s a cool guy and I have fun hanging out with him sometimes. But I also don’t exactly love that he regularly hospitalizes my father and also blows up the apartment that occasionally has some of my stuff in it. Plus, he’s also a platypus which is kind of weird. So yeah, I guess you could say that things are complicated between us.

D: Thank you sweetie, that’s all I wanted to know. I’ll pick you up later, love you bye! She said yes.

W: Life is just so complicated for young women nowadays all around. You all know that I think my Faith is perfect, but sometimes I do wonder if she could benefit from seeing a therapist.

S: I’ve briefly considered the same thing for Jinx. Her hallucinations and violent outbursts have gotten worse ever since her estranged sister who she thought was dead broke out of jail and started running around with that enforcer who’s trying to hunt Jinx down.

D: My ex-wife, Charlene, paid for a therapist for Vanessa while we were going through our divorce and it seemed to really help her. I personally wanted to get her a nemesis of her own for free, but I think the therapist was probably for the best looking back. If you guys want I can give you the phone number. It sounds like you guys could all benefit from it because I don’t think your nemesis’s are doing enough.

W: Well gosh, Dr. D, I sure would appreciate that! I gotta say, I’ve really been enjoying our time together gentlemen. We should hang out outside of this little group of ours. Say, how do you two feel about golf?

S: It is a pointless game meant only for the elite to rub their abundance and disregard for their access to land, and clean water in the faces of my people who are choking on the very air that gives them life as the privileged laugh and grow fat on their wealth and power like pigs. Unknown to them they are only preparing themselves to be slaughtered and feasted upon by the very ones they oppress in order to desperately hold on to their tenuous hold over us.

D:…Wow. You’ve got some intense vibes, man. But yeah, I’m gonna have to agree with you. Golf is so boring. How ‘bout a round of mini-golf?

W: Even better! How ‘bout we bring our daughters along? I bet they’d all be fast friends.

S: Mini-golf is…acceptable

[versatiletwink]

Thanks to @sophiesbimbofantasy for the inspiration!

CW: mindbreak, dubcon, CNC, bimbo/dumbification stuff, hypnosis, trans nsft (but NOT forced fem!) all other the cut.

Sophie knew she should read the contract carefully, she knew she held a sizable chunk of her fate in her hands, in the form of a pink ballpoint pen.

But for the life of her, she just couldn't summon the will to read the long, dry legalese. She knew how these things worked, big pharmaceutical companies like BIMCO. LLC had to protect themselves from liability, and the easiest way to do that was to pack their legal documents with jargon and subclauses and big words that people wouldn't read, and thus wouldn't think to sue over after the fact.

It wasn't that Sophie COULDN'T understand the text - she had just finished medical school at the top of her class, after all, and was among the brightest members of any friend group, cohort, or workplace she'd ever taken part in, and had a decent understanding of the legal system overall - it was that she just couldn't shake the nervous excitement promised by this trial drug.

And besides, maybe she'd prove a valuable data point. Sophie was trans, and surely the company would be interested in how its drug influenced a girl who was AMAB.

Sophie settled for scanning it. She'd done well on tests with less prep, she figured. Everything seemed to be in order: she'd be under the company's care for a year, given food and water and shelter and a living wage deposited in her bank account, as well as a monthly dose of the drug. She could opt out at any time, though doing so would hurt her credit score or something, probably through some financial wizardy. The company was not liable for any accidents or self-imposed predicaments, including but not limited to... yeah, OK, boilerplate stuff.

Fuck it.

She signed on the dotted line, and felt the sting of a needle in her neck before she finished sliding it across the dimly lit table, to the middle manager seated across from her.

"Damn you guys were really waiting in the wings with that, uh, yknow, that..."

The word escaped Sophie.

"The thingy. The juice you like, uh, put in me? I can feel it filling me!"

She stumbled through the end of the sentence, giggling at the euphamism.

Then she giggled some more. Objectively, she still knew it wasn't that funny, but she couldn't stop thinking about the implied sex: something being put inside her. Something white and wet filling her. Her mind wandered to the subject of creampies as she chuckled, then stayed there.

"It's kinda like, hehe-" she interupted herself with another snort. "Just like cum!"

"What did you say your name was?" Asked the man opposite her at the table.

Sophie blinked through a few more chuckles.

"Ummmm, I don't remember!" She blurted out, beaming absentmindedly. "Gimme a hint?"

The man smiled. He picked up the contract and waived it.

"For the next 365 days, your legal name is Slut."

Sophie just stared back, blissfully confused.

"That's like, a lonnnnnng time," was the last the she remembered saying as her mind went foggy.

The next month was a blur. Sophie literally couldn't remember a thing: the drug suppressed her ability to learn new information, but that meant her long-term memory was fucked in the process.

She remembered starting to come to, naked, back at the lab.

"You're injection's wearing off, hold still," was all the pretty man in the lab coat said before injecting her neck with more of that wonderful white fluid.

He didn't have time to step away before Sophie reached out and grabbed at his pants, her mouth gravitating toward his cock.

They were surprisingly easy to pull down. The slowly resurfacing rational part of Sophie's brain wondered if that was an intentional aspect of the uniform's design, before the drug kicked in and pushed such silly thoughts deep, deep away into her subconscious.

The next time she returned to self-awareness, Sophie was not in a lab, but staring down at a blonde woman with the proportions of a sex doll. The girl was lapping at Sophie's clit - weird, she didn't remember having a clit - before a prick to the back of the neck ripped awareness away once more.

The brief moments of coherence grew fewer and father between: A group of men pounding her in every hole, then a stranger cumming in her through a glory hole, then a far-too-big fuck machine stretching out her newly formed pussy, then a much shorter girl edging Sophie with a vibrator to the brink of madness, then the handsome scientist again, railing her on a balcony.

They were all Sophie could remember as she stared at the contract, 365 days later, fresh out of her mindfucked stupor.

It might as well have been 5 minutes since she signed the last form, based on her extremely limited memories. And yet, each one felt so euphoric, so deeply, intimately packed with lust that she didn't know if she even wanted to go back to her old life, to take the hospital position she knew she was waiting for if she just stood up and walked away.

This new contract was for 10 years. The company apparently no longer offered 1-year versions, as they tested a more developed version of the drug. Signing now would effecively give away the education, the career, the promising life she'd worked so hard for.

But fuck, it'd feel so hot.

Fuck it.

Sophie signed the contract in glittery pink ink, and giggled as she felt the warm sensation of a prick on the back of her neck.

I want to sign a contract for complete bimbofication for a set period of time. Make it the last thing that I am able to read before getting too dum. When the time is up I want to come back to myself and look at what a stupid whore I was and then have to admit that I'm better as a bimbo and I want to be that way forever.

[starstaiined-archived-blog]

Kara: Why is Ally crying in the bathroom??

Carly: She's drunk.

Kara: ...and?

Carly: And she heard that I'm married.

Kara: ..............she's your wife.

Carly: I know.

[greensaplinggrace]

honestly THANK YOU for saying all that abt baghra bc i thought i was going crazy from not liking her??? bc i haven't read the books and only summaries of them on wiki and like. i dunno why ppl like her actually even in the show bc this guy, her son, is like "i wanna make the world better for us grisha" and she's just like "no." even tho he sees that she's MAKING HERSELF SICK from suppressing her powers! she's literally like in bed coughing in the flashback yet seem much healthier at the little palace. also like after everything, after her disapproval, after the fold, after centuries of waiting for the sun summoner.. he never abandons her. he makes sure she's cares for. he doesn't harm her. and i have to wonder if baghra has ever thanks him for that, for just not leaving her alone. like i dunno how im suppose ro believe aleks is a heartless villain when he still cares for his abusive mom like this. like has baghra even told her she loved him (honestly she reminds me of a classic emotionally unavailable asian parent but maybe that's just me). also im wondering if baghra ever told aleks that he had an aunt.. bc like.. now that u bring up her isolating him it's like hmmmm...

not at me being like alina... why do u trust the bitter old woman who literally beats u with a stick and verbally abuses u every chance she gets.. just bc she showed a bad painting... like.. pls use two braincells to see that who u figured out as his mother... is also using his protection..

like baghra could've upped and left with alina. but no. she stayed bc she knew she was safe under aleks's protection.

alsoim just impressed that after his first friend tried to drown him and harvest his bones... he didn't go into hiding???? he still wanted to make a safe heaven for grisha!!! HE STILL WANTED TO PROTECT GRISHA EVEN AFTER HIS GRISHA FRIEND TRIED TO KILL HIM FOR HIS FUCKEN BONES. like... this is the guy im suppose to believe is the villain???

honestly i feel like part of the reason why LB's plotlines seem so bad and disconnected (and sometimes outright racist but that's another rant) and why darkles is disproportionately more violent and villainous in the later books is bc she didn't expect the darkling to be so popular and wanted to stick with her guns of making him the villain. but also wanted the money from aleks's popularity. but like you can't have ur cake and eat it too.

Well thank you for sending this ask! It's very sweet and very passionate. I'm glad you liked my post! I didn't put as much thought into it as some of my others lol. I kind of just talked. But it was nice to be able to finally talk about some of the problems I have with both her character and the fandom/author's perception of her.

HERE is the post this is referring to, in case anyone's wondering.

👀👀 You've hit the nail on the head for so many things, here!

Baghra is extremely emotionally unavailable, basically to the point of neglect. She's also verbally and physically abusive, traits which I doubt were only reserved for her students and not her son. Baghra claims she would do anything to protect him, but I've known a lot of parents who have that mindset and yet still harm their children because they think it's "good for them".

Aleksander stays at Baghra's side for years, and even when they're opposing each other she's never too far away from him. Idk if you've read the books but he does eventually hurt her. And as much as I don't like Baghra, I think his actions were horrid. But I'm also honestly kind of surprised it took him so long lmao.

Yeah I mean, in terms of isolation, let's not forget that she never wanted to introduce him to his father, either. Baghra's sense of eternity clouds a lot of her judgments on relationships, which means she views most people as dust and therefore teaches her son to as well. The problem with that is that he's a growing child, and he needs those social and emotional attachments for healthy development.

I would bet quite a bit of money that Baghra has either never told him she loves him or she has told him so few times it's practically forgettable.

And everything becomes more complicated because so many of Baghra's actions are understandable because of her life and her history, but the impacts they have on the people around her, especially Aleksander, are permanently damaging. And the fact that that's never gone over in critical depth in the books or how it's glossed over in fandom is just very disconcerting. Like, acknowledging Baghra's failings doesn't mean we're excusing Aleksander's actions, it just means we're holding Baghra liable for her own. Which the fandom should be doing, considering she's the epitome of an abusive parental figure.

And Alina trusting Baghra over Aleksander is even more confusing! Especially in the show!! This is the woman who beat her and abused her and tortured her friends when they tiny little children (and who probably still does so now that they're adults). This is the woman who mocks you and harasses you and insults you on a regular basis. Why does Baghra revealing she's Aleksander's mother make Alina change her mind?! Like fuck, I'd just feel bad for Aleksander. No wonder he kept it a secret, I would too! And that painting is enough evidence?! Really?! A random painting shown to you by this abusive mentor that's been making your life hell. That's what you're going to betray your new lover over?

The friends trying to harvest his bones thing is a good point, too. I think Aleksander, especially show Aleksander, is incredibly idealistic. I think he cares too much for others - those he's deemed worth his care (a sentiment given to him by Baghra). Despite everything she's tried to teach him about hiding and abandoning others and never caring and never doing anything to help or reach out or connect with people, Aleksander still continues to do so. It's likely because he never got it from Baghra growing up, and so is desperate for those emotional needs to be fulfilled elsewhere.

His turning point, when Baghra tells him it was understandable that those kids tried to kill him because the world is such a hard place for them - that's crucial. And the reason it's possible as a motivating factor is because of that idealism and that desire to help and that desire to be everything his mother isn't. Baghra tells him this trauma he just experienced was because of the oppression of his people, and instead of following her lead and accepting that, going into hiding and abandoning everybody to their misery, he goes I can do something about that. I can make it so this never happens again. Which is usually how trauma like that combines with one's core personality traits at a young age, especially when there's none of the essential support systems in place to aid in recovery (ie, the role Baghra should have been filling but wasn't, because she decided to exacerbate the problem instead).

And yeah, one of my biggest problems with the ham-fisted "beating you over the head with a sledgehammer of evil deeds" look-how-bad-this-character-is! portrayal of the Darkling in the later books comes from the impression I get that Bardugo doesn't trust her readers. She's so desperate to have us hate this character and think him an irredeemable villain, not trusting any of her readers to engage critically with a morally gray character, that it feels quite a bit like condescending fucking bullshit. Which ew, I know how to engage with literature, thanks.

She really does seem to look down on a large part of her fandom, and imo, the infantilization of the female characters in her books seems to carry over to her impression of most of her female readers as well. Which is why the Darkling's character arc gets fucking destroyed. But he's still a good cash grab, of course, so she'll shake his dead corpse in front of the fandom for money every time she wants something from it.

Also! Another reason I think her plotlines feel disconnected (I'm sorry Bardugo I respect you as a person, but shit-) is because the writing in SaB is just bad. I mean, nevermind the absolutely nauseating implications of the way she portrays the Grisha as a persecuted group who's situation is never actually fully addressed as it should be, considering Grisha rights is what her main villain is fighting for (imo for a series called the Grishaverse, LB seems to be pretty anti Grisha), but her characters and story alone are just wrong for each other. They don't fit together.

And the ending is one of the main pieces of evidence in that regard! You can’t say the ending where Alina isn’t Grisha anymore is her “going back to where she started” when she’s always been Grisha. She just didn’t know she was Grisha because she denied that part of herself that she was born with.

Alina is reluctant to move forward or change, she struggles with adapting, and she’s very set on the things she’s grown attached to throughout her life. She also has some latent prejudices against the Grisha, and so denies the possibility of being Grisha for those reasons as well.

Alina’s lack of powers in the beginning of her life because she willfully doesn’t learn about them to avoid change versus her lack of powers at the end of the book when she’s accepted them and then they’re stripped away from her by outer forces are two entirely separate circumstances. You can’t make a parallel about lost powers and lack of Grisha status bringing her back to the start when she was always Grisha and she always had powers and she simply refused to come to terms with it because of personal reasons.

The first situation is an internal conflict that indicates a story about growth and a journey of self acceptance. Denying herself the opportunity to learn about her heritage and to find acceptance with a group of people like her because she’s tied to the past and because of the way she was raised is the setup for a narrative that tackles unlearning prejudice and learning how to connect with a part of her identity that was denied her and learning how to grow independent and self assured. It’s the setup for a different story entirely. The second situation is an external conflict that centers around the ‘corrupting influence of power’... for some reason.

In a world where Grisha do not have social, political, or economic power and they are hunted, centering your heroine’s journey of self acceptance and growth around an external conflict about... the corrupting influence of power (in a group of people that don’t actually have any power?!) just doesn’t work. It is literally impossible to connect the two stories Bardugo is trying to push in Shadow and Bone without seriously damaging the main character’s developmental arc.

The only way a narrative like this would work, claiming that she has gone back to where she started, is either a) if the Grisha weren’t actually a persecuted group and instead were apart of the upper class, or b) if the one bad connection between the two instances is acknowledged - that Alina denied a part of herself crucial to self acceptance and growing up, and that losing her powers at the end has also denied her. It is a tragedy, not a happy ending.

Alina suffered because she didn’t use her powers. She grew sick. It was bad for her. This was not a resistance to 'the corruption of power and the burden of greed', it was her suffering because she couldn’t fully accept herself.

Framing the ending as a return to the beginning can’t be done if you don’t address how bad the beginning was for your main character. You brought her back to a bad point in her life. You regressed her. This should be a low point in her arc. It should be a problem that’s solved so she can finish developing organically or it should be something that is acknowledged as a tragedy in it’s own right, for the future the world (the writing) denied her.

This is a ramble and it makes no sense and I’m really sorry, but my point is that Bardugo put the wrong characters in the wrong story. The character arc required for organic development doesn’t match the story and intended message at all. The narrative doesn’t fit the cast. She's got two clashing stories attempting to work in tandem and she ends up with both conflicting messages that fans still can’t comprehend in her writing and an ending that doesn’t suit her main character to such an impossible degree that it’s almost laughable.

So yeah, there's a few reasons why I think the story and the plot feels so bad and disconnected. I hope you don't mind me making this answer so long! 😅 I was not expecting to write this much.

[jeonsblackgf-writes]

LIES WITHIN YOUR WORDS || 2 ||

summary: Sierra left, but she didn’t quite leave😂 (you’ll see)

pairing: basically miguel galindo x black!OC

genre: errrr pettiness? fluff, maybe angst

word count:

AN: DO NOT WORRY! I AM CURRENTLY WRITING A FIC WITH FLUFF WITH ANGEL THEN EZ😂

____________________________________________🖊

"I just don't understand why I have to go back there." Sierra huffed, not wanting to move since she was very much pregnant as hell. She didn't want to leave the comfort of her couch but Miguel was more at ease knowing she was with him at all times with her being so close to her due date. He didn't want anything to happen to her, but he understood where his wife was coming from when she said that she didn't want to go back to the clubhouse after what happened to her 4 years ago. The only two people she's kept up with was Letty and Chucky. They've visited her a few times, they came to the wedding, the baby shower, almost everything. They were the only two people she trusted when it came to the Mayans.

"Mi reina, I completely understand why you don't want to go back, but I can assure you that nothing will happen to you because while I conduct business with Bishop, Nestor will be by your side just as he has been all these years. You have nothing to worry about, just trust me." He reassured her. She sighed and nodded her head as he gave her a triumphant smile. "Besides, it'd be nice to see you be petty every once in a while."

"I'm not liable for anything that happens while you're in the Templo. You know how my mouth gets when I get riled up" She grumbled, slowly sitting up from the couch to slip on her slides. Miguel gave her a kiss on the cheek, and let her have her alone time until it was time to work again.  He absolutely knew how much of a hard ass she can get when she gets mad, he's been on the other side of that on several occasions.

Sierra was 100% sure that Miguel was bringing her out of spite because he liked to brag and that's just the type of man he was. He took pride in the fact that he finally found love after Emily since he found out Cristobal wasn't his. He was heartbroken, yeah, but Sierra was there for him when nobody else was, and she was there for him when she told him about the deal that EZ had made with the feds. Of course, she felt like a bad friend, but there was so much betrayal being thrown around inside the Mayans, she didn't care anymore. Now here she is, 4 years later, married and pregnant by the one man that Angel and EZ had hated more than anything.

She had came to peace with herself and what happened to her a long ass time ago. She didn't want to harbour any hate for a man that didn't even deserve her time of the day. She stopped posting on social media because for some reason it had always encouraged him to call her, even while she was engaged to Miguel. She had also known, that Miguel was a completely different breed when it came to loyalty, it was like taking care of her needs was always his first priority and she used to feel so overwhelmed with how much love she had been receiving, but she had gotten used to it.

"It's time to go mi corazon," Miguel announced, walking back into the living room with Nestor behind him. She gave the two men a confused look as she watched Miguel carry a bag. He gave her a smile and handed it to her. She smiled as she looked inside the bag to see that it was filled with all her favourite snacks and drinks since he knew she liked to eat throughout the day. Not wanting to waste any time, she pulled out a bag of hot cheetos and ripped the bag open before popping a handful in her mouth.

Miguel grabbed her free hand and lead her to the car where the driver was waiting. He opened the door for her, placing a hand on her back as she got in. After she got comfortable, he closed the door and walked to the other side before settling himself beside her. Out of instinct, Sierra crossed her legs over her husbands, and scooted closer to him. He smiled and began to rub her thighs as the car started to move, Nestor sitting in the front. Miguel rolled up the partition from his side of the car, and began rubbing her thighs higher and higher, making her look at him suspiciously.

"The same shit your doing now is the reason why I'm pregnant." She grumbled, trying to push his hand away from he only grabbed it and laced it with his other hand as he slowly pulled her panties off with one hand and began to rub her clit slowly in small circles. She sighed and leaned her head back as she tried not to make too much noise because the car definitely wasn't sound proof.

"You know I can never get enough of you querida, no matter how pregnant you are." He mumbled, leaning over to place small kisses on her neck and chest. Sierra sighed in content and leaned back on the seat with her sundress hiked up to her belly, making Miguel smile. Maybe a small quickie wouldn't hurt.

"Miguel just hurry up because you got me horny knowing how sensitive my hormones are." She complained, trying to unbuckle his slack but he slapped her hand away, and held her legs up by the back of her knees.

"Relax honey, it'll be a while before we get there anyway." He stated before eating his wife out like it was her last meal, not giving her a chance to respond properly since she was too busy trying not to moan as she ran her hands through his hair.

Miguel moaned as he felt her drip onto his tongue before pushing her dress up past her. breast so he could have something soft to hold onto. Lately, he had been having sex with her and eating her out more than usual. She tasted sweeter and her pushy was always extremely wet during sex. He let go of her trembling legs, and snuggly placed them on his shoulder so that she would be more comfortable.

He circled his lips around her clit before sucking harshly, receiving a loud moan from her. "Holy fuck! Shit..."

Sierra looked down to her husband over her belly to see him already staring at her with wide eyes as he used both hands to spread her pushy lips as he stiffened his tongue and proceeded tongue fuck her deeper, making her thud down onto the seat and let out another sob as she felt herself coming closer and closer to cumming.

Her mouth fell into a silent scream as she felt her orgasm crash down upon her. Miguel did his best to keep her still as he watched her essence spurt out of her, watching as her legs continued to shake from the huge orgasm. Miguel glanced outside of the moving car for a split second before rushing to pull his slacks down. 

"We'll be there in 5, so lets make this quick mi reina," He mumbled, kissing his wife on the lips before leaning back up to thrust into her. Sierra gasped and grabbed her husbands hand as he quickly plowed into her as he tried to get her to finish as she chased his own climax. Miguel tried his best not to moan loud because he knew Nestor would give him shit so he stuck with deep breaths and small grunts. Sierra bit onto her lip as she watched her husband thrust harshly into her.

"You gonna let them know who you belong to amor?" Miguel asked, moving his hand to rub his wife's clit as she came around him. She sporadically and rapidly nodded her head as she tried to push him away but he grabbed both her hands and placed them above her her as he continued his consistent thrusting, now getting to his orgasm as he gave her one more thrust, spilling himself inside her. (I promise I write better smut than this lol.)

"Miguel, we're here." Nestor called from the front. Miguel could hear the sound of the front seat opening before he and Sierra put their clothes on. She straightened herself out, fixing her hair while Miguel pulled up his slacks and buckled his pants back. 

It had just dawned on her about what she was about to walk into. Sierra sighed, not wanting to see anyone's face again, not after what happened but she knew she really had no choice seeing as she willingly got into the car with her husband. 

Miguel noticed her distress, and comforted his wife, "Hey, if you don't want to come in it's your decision."

Sierra smiled at him and shook her head, "No, I want to. Let's go."

The couple made it out of the car, checking their surrounds before a loud voice caught her attention. Miguel whispered to Nestor about keeping a watch on her, the man nodding his head.

"SIERRA! GIRL HEY!" Letty ran up to the pregnant woman and engulfed her in a huge hug, being mindful of her belly. Miguel smiled at the interaction and stated that he was going inside for his meeting with Bishop, to which Sierra smiled and nodded her head before kissing his lips as a temporary goodbye. 

"You're glowing! Miguel really got you out here living your best life." She complimented, looking at her friend. Sierra laughed and rubbed her belly out of instinct. 

"Girl, he is but don't tell him I said that shit. His ego already big as hell." She joked, earning a laugh from the younger girl in front of her. 

"You wanna head inside?" Letty asked after a small moment of silence. Sierra hesitantly smiled and nodded her head. Letty noticed the hesitance.

"If it makes you feel any better, Angel's been a shit show ever since you left. Adelita was pregnant and he thought it was his but turns out it wasn't. So karma's a bitch I guess." Letty explained as the two of them walked to the doors of the clubhouse. Sierra gave a small hum at the new information. She had always told Angel that Adelita was suspect but he clearly was too deep in her pussy to see that until it was too late. 

"I'm married to a good ass man and we got a kid on the way, I could really care less." She stated, walking past Letty to get inside with Nestor following closely behind since she was burning up. It was like a record scratch from those dramatically funny ass movies and suddenly all eyes were on her while some where on her belly. 

Of course they were doing the same banter just like the time Angel got caught only his little Adelita wasn't here. Such a shame. She turned to Nestor with a smile on her face. 

"Could you get me something to drink?" She asked quietly. Nestor gave her a friendly smile and walked to the bar to ask for some water, returning it back to Sierra as she thanked him and took a big gulp from him. She tried her hardest to ignore the stares but it was getting irritating at this point. 

"Are yall gone keep staring or is somebody gone speak?" She asked loudly, scanning the room, and of course the first one to walk up was Angel. Looking past him, Sierra locked eyes with a girl with shoulder length hair, making her squint her eyes at her before the girl broke contact with her and turned around.

"Who knocked you up?" He asked, pointing to her belly before glancing at Nestor who was standing behind him. She smiled at him.

"Not your hoe ass, that's for sure." She replied, pretending to pick at her nails as if she were bored with the conversation already. 

"Mi reina seriously, did you let Miguel knock you up?" Angel asked, hoping to hear a no, but from the smile on her face he knew it was the opposite. Sad to say, he had thought about coming to see  her all the way up until this point, but she clearly was busy with someone else. 

"I'll tell you this. I married the same man who got his heart broken by the bitch your brother constantly fucked. Crazy how their baby wasn't his but EZ's isn't it?  Kinda pathetic if you ask me, taking Miguel's sloppy seconds...so weird." She spoke, every ounce of venom on her voice. She had time to be petty today.

"Did you come here to insult us? If you did you can fucking lea--"

"How's Adelita? Y'know with you cheating on me with her and all one would've thought that you guys would be a big happy family with her being pregnant. Oh wait, they poor baby isn't even yours. So not only did you cheat, you allowed a hoe to run game on you. Crazy." She chuckled, shaking her head at him. Angel knew he should say something, but how could he when everything she's saying is true. As far as Nestor, the only thing he could really do was try not to laugh, since he was told not to start anything unless he felt like someone was physically trying to attack his boss's wife and unborn child. 

"Seriously Sierra, we get that we fucked you over but chill out." Gilly spoke from the other side of the room. Sierra looked at him and sighed. 

"Gilly, if you knew how much dirt I had on you and every person in this room you would shut the fuck up and keep stuffing your fat ass face." Sierra ranted. Where the fuck is Miguel?

"Uhm excuse me but who are you? Angel why are you letting her walk all over you?" One of Vickey's girls asked, standing up to get beside Angel. 

"You do know I can put a price on your head and get you knocked off right? Matter fact lemme just..." She trailed off, pulling out her phone to text Miguel but Nestor grabbed the phone from her hand before she could. One phone call and the entire building will be burned to the damn ground with everyone in it. 

"He just saved your life. Next time you wanna try somebody, try a bitch that ain't me." She hissed, standing up just in time to see her husband walking out of the templo with Bishop, who could clearly feel the tension in the room. Miguel smiled and walked over to his wife as she welcomed him with a hug. 

"She wasn't too much trouble was she?" Miguel asked Nestor, who handed her back her phone. 

"Other than the fact that she just tried to get one of Vickey's girls dead, no, she's been an angel as always." Nestor laughed, stepping back from the two of them.

"Why the fuck did you marry her into this shit? You're too dangerous for her." Angel fussed, scowling at Miguel who turned around with an amused look on his face.

"Angel seriously shut the fuck up. You just don't like the fact that I'm married to the one man everybody in this bitch is afraid of because if he's too dangerous for me then you were as well and yet I STAYED with you and you see where that got me. It took you five years to propose to me while it took him one and a half, and we got married 6 moths later. Like my momma always said, a man knows when he ready to settle down, and you weren't ready and that's okay, but don't try to talk about what the fuck I got going on when you clearly got homegirl in the back over there scared to even say shit with her weak ass but I'm not surprised, you always had to fuck weak bitches because you could never handle a real ass bitch like me. Have a nice life dickface." She ranted, grabbing her husband's hand who was shocked at the confrontation. Any other time Miguel would be the first to speak on something like that but hearing his wife do it for him just made his heart swell with pride. 

"You handled that better than I would have baby, I'm proud of you." He told her as the two of them got into the car. Sierra smiled and leaned into her husbands side as he pulled her closer and kissed her head. 

"Okay now take me home and give me bath." She demanded, causing the other man to throw his head back in laughter.

[sidras-tak]

Please write that Caleb/Veth friends with benefits meta, I would LOVE to read that!

I’ve talked about this before in the widobrave server, and it’s not so much “friends with benefits” as it is “not quite exes”, in my mind. So I’m basing this whole thing off two moments: Keg assuming Caleb and Nott are together, and how Caleb reacted when Nott kissed him right before the failed Widogast’s Transmorgification spell. Also, this is less meta and more speculation.

Let’s assume this: Nott and Caleb, in their time traveling together pre-stream, had a sexual relationship. At the very least, they cuddled and gave each other physical comfort (this part is canon actually). Sometime before the stream began, or shortly after it began, one of the two broke it off. Maybe Nott started falling for Caleb and felt guilty about Yeza. Maybe Caleb’s internalized guilt and shame about being worthy of love caused him to break it off. Either way, they decided to end it while still being friends, devoted to each other. This leaves them on a weird footing. When canon begins, they still are physically comfortable with each other (Nott climbs all over Caleb, he holds her frequently, they sleep in the same bed, hugs all the time) and this is untrue with any other member of the MN and Caleb, who is usually bad at receiving or giving affection. However, they are not romantically together. What are they? Exes? Taking a break? No longer friends with benefits? Pining? Who knows! Not them! Not us!

On to the canon.

Moment one: Keg assumes Caleb and Nott are together. Caleb rolls with her assumption, clearly unbothered by her thinking they might be together. In almost the same breath, Nott denies it, and Caleb looks confused and concerned. Nott berates herself (“he could do much better than a little freakshow like myself”), Caleb shushes her and gets an inn room specifically for the two of them, doubling down that he doesn’t care if people think they’re together. If you view this from the not-quite-exes perspective, it shows that Caleb isn’t ashamed of being with Nott and is willing to take it back up again at some point, while Nott is firmly trying to put it in the past. Given that she has a secret husband, not surprising. It also shows that Caleb isn’t convinced what they have is over. It’s a gray area for him. “Are you together?” Keg asks, and Caleb says, “Sure,” because fuck if he actually knows what they are. Anyway, “together” is close enough.

Moment two: the kiss. It’s hard to separate the actor and the character, especially with Liam, who tends to be in-character as much as possible. When Nott leans in and kisses him sweetly on the lips, Liam/Caleb moves back slightly in surprise and blinks rapidly for a second, then focuses all his attention on Nott while she speaks. He does not appear distressed or confused by the kiss, though he was taken off-guard by it initially. When she’s done speaking, he cups her face in his hand and says, “this will be our best trick yet.” No reference to the kiss, no question as to what she did or how she feels about him, and then they never fucking talk about it again. If one assumes this is their first kiss, that’s odd. Most people would react somehow if their best friend kissed them on the lips, no matter if their feelings were romantic or platonic. If you approach it with the idea that they used to be together and still care deeply about each other, it’s not a confession of feelings, it’s a callback to their shared past. Nott isn’t startling Caleb with the confession that she’s attracted to him, she’s simply reminding him where they started and who they are and were to each other. It fits in perfectly with her speech, thanking him for being devoted to her and spending all this time with her.

The meta angle: we know, almost certainly, that Sam and Liam did not plan for romantic widobrave since the beginning of the campaign. But as early as episode 25′s talks, Sam addresses that Nott’s feelings for Caleb are liable to change and morph as the show progresses (I direct you to this excellent video about nuance), so it’s possible this is around when he and Liam start considering pre-stream widobrave as a possibility--and it falls right before Keg’s assumption and all that it entails. Liam has said that during the course of the game, it’s not unusual for a player to come up with a bit of backstory that they hadn’t considered before and share it with Matt to be used later, so it’s entirely possible from a meta level. 

Caleb and Veth being in a former relationship would fit in with how they struggle to define their relationship in canon. (“he’s my boy and i protect him” “I don’t know what our family is” and “you’re not my....hmm....” all come to mind)

And really, wouldn’t it be exactly like Sam “no metagaming unless it’s funny” Riegel and Liam “this backstory is gonna hurt you so much” O’Brien to make widobrave retroactively canon and not tell anyone for as long as they can manage it.

(As a side note, I am not looking for a debate on the nature of Veth’s feelings towards Caleb. If you believe that Veth views Caleb as her son, you are free to do so, but please leave my post out of it, thanks).

[nicketynic]

Prompt: Jon Snow falls in love with Sansa Rivers, Brynden's bastard.

Catelyn Tully Stark had never forgotten the strange, painful parallel of watching her uncle walking through Riverrun’s gates, her lord father’s bones in tow, cradling a babe bearing his look, imagining it eerily similar to Eddard’s return to Winterfell, the return that brought his bastard son inside the walls of his ancestral seat before his trueborn heir had ever graced them. 

Her feelings for Jon Snow aside, Sansa Rivers was her dear uncle’s only child, bastard-born or not, beloved enough to be brought with him to RIverrun as he took up regency for Edmure. Through letters, Catelyn watched her grow, transitioning from sweet, spirited girl to kind, dutiful young woman, thoughtful and grateful toward every bit of advice Catelyn offered. 

By twelve, Sansa had stepped so naturally into the role of Riverrun’s surrogate lady, just as Cately had before her, and remained so at sixteen when Robb’s march south saw armies and lords aplenty descend on the castle. Then Ned was gone, and sweet Sansa was a steady source of comfort and support in a sea of grief and loss. How could she not love this wonderful, giving girl, everything she would have wanted in another daughter if the Mother had seen fit, for all she never regretted helping Ned secure his bloodline, for all that Arya was a willful, spirited, irreplaceable gift?

Ned was lost to her, and a solemn specter of his likeness stood stalwart at their son’s side. While loss and his unwavering loyalty toward Robb had eaten away at the bitterness toward the bastard, nothing could stop her hackles from rising the first time she saw Snow’s eyes land on Sansa, widening with surprise and interest. So intent was she on diverting that attention, she nearly missed when Sansa began to return his gazes, until she was as moon-eyed as the boy. It was only the march into the Westerlands that relieved Catelyn’s vexation with the whole affair, and as the war raged on and months became a year, then two, she became certain the infatuation had long passed. 

Now, Jon Snow was a Stark-born bastard of a different variety, no longer a political unknown but the last scion of a dead dynasty, poised to have his pick between several noble seats. Some argued Dragonstone was his right so long as he let the name Targaryen die, Robb stood eager to see him landed and titled in the north, and Uncle Brynden himself had mused whether Harrenhal would be an acceptable compromise (granted to House Tully by way of Whent blood), if only to keep his daughter close by. 

Catelyn was wrong that time and distance would kill the attraction between Snow and Rivers, for all that Sansa had never spoken of or inquired about him within her hearing. Sansa herself had presented her desire for Jon Snow’s hand in marriage, and Brynden was showing no signs of refusing. Feeling the weight of his niece’s gaze upon him, Brynden raised his head, bushy silver brows over Tully blue arching expectantly. 

Catelyn hesitated for a moment, straightening subconsciously in her chair before she spoke. “Uncle, are you certain this is the decision you wish to make? The boy has prospects now, but the Targaryen legacy is liable to haunt him for the rest of his days. His children as well. Is it wise to subject Sansa to that?”

Brynden studied her for a long moment, deep wells of Tully blue full of something impossibly sad and wise. “Trust me when I say, little Cat, there can be no better judge of that girl’s happiness than Sansa herself. Her life’s already been hardship enough since the day I gave her the name ‘Rivers.’”

For the first time since his fateful decision, Brynden Tully was fully certain he had made the right choice when he plucked up a little red-haired waif from obscurity all those years ago, Tully auburn a beacon to draw his eye among a group of war orphans at Fairmarket’s motherhouse. All the evidence he needed was the soft, besotted look in Sansa’s eyes, the confidence in the way she spoke of Jon Snow’s love being true. That was all he could have possibly wished for the child who held his heart even if she wasn’t born of his body, much like the clever Cat sitting nearby. 

Let it never be said that the Blackfish of Riverrun didn’t look after his own. 

xx

Contrary to their elders’ assumptions, Sansa Rivers and Jon Snow hadn’t been blinded from the hardships of their world by infatuation or innocence, and had long since forged their own path ahead together. 

This day, Jon sat quietly in the shadow of several large old elms in Riverrun’s godswood. His eyes were closed, whether in prayer or sleep his audience was uncertain, only that he paid her approach no notice until he felt the light pressure of her hand on his shoulder, warm breath tickling against his skin with a whisper in his ear. 

“Perhaps it is improper to interrupt a man in such serious contemplation, but the solemnity on your face should be far removed from the beauty of this day.”

He jumped at the initial touch, glowering. Sansa allowed herself a few giggles at his disgruntled expression, leaning against his shoulder and letting her lips tease against the sensitive place below his ear. 

Jon looked at her sharply, and she responded with a soft reassurance and a firmer kiss to his neck. “I circled this clever spot you found from every direction I could conceive of, love. I only saw you since I knew where to look. We’re safe.”

Jon relaxed, turning in her arms to shift her closer, Sansa settling comfortably in his lap. She circled her arms around his neck, drawing his mouth to hers in a lingering, adoring kiss. She drew back at the need for air, giving him a cheeky smile. “Husband.”

“Wife.”

xx

For weeks, Sansa had felt the weight of eyes on her. Over the years of men coming and going from Riverrun, she had become accustomed to the hard, lustful stares thrown her way, unabashed in their audacity given she was bastard-born with no noble title to protect her modesty. The only thing that kept their stares as only stares, their hands from never daring to pinch or grope, rip or bruise, was the power of her father and cousin’s affection for her. Nothing more, certainly not through any virtue of her own, as barbed, gossiping tongues saw fit to remind her every season she was forced to play host to the ladies and daughters of Cousin Edmure’s bannermen. 

When she finally distracted herself enough for the chaos of preparing for war, she was shocked to discover the owner of these particular eyes. King Robb’s bastard half-brother, taciturn, solemn Jon Snow. A man who seemed too serious, too stoic, too devoted, for any woman to draw his eye away from his intense focus on duty. She puzzled over his interest, and several times she felt the burn of his gaze, she turned around to seek the source. More often than not, his expression was carefully composed into a sullen frown, and he was quick to turn away, but once or twice, she caught him unguarded. 

His expression naked and open, wistful yearning laid bare for her to see, unique to the entitled vulgarity she’d reluctantly grown used to over time. His was a quiet longing, appreciative and warm every time his eyes landed on her. Still he wouldn’t approach, not even as she began to return lingering looks of her own, not even when her smiles grew soft and inviting. He never came. 

So she went to him herself.

“I hope I’m not interrupting, my lord. Please tell me if my presence is unwelcome, and I’ll leave you be.”

“Your presence could never be unwelcome, my lady. And I know we’ve discussed that I’m no lord. Please, call me Jon.”

“Then you should remember I’m no lady, but I know from experience you’ll demure. So be it.” She smiled, slow and enigmatic. “Jon.” She drew his name out, testing out the sound, and Jon could have died from shame at the flash of heat it caused him. 

“Jon,” the sound of her voice, soft, husky, and alluring, was intoxicating, his name slipping from her tongue sweet as honey. “Jon, I’ve felt your eyes on me for weeks. Always watching me. Never approaching, Why? Am I wrong”

He couldn’t remember a time when his tongue had ever felt so thick and at a loss for words. “N-no, you’re not wrong.”

“Do you want me, Jon?”

She’d bewitched him, surely, how else could he justify actually giving voice to his next words? “Yes,” he choked out, voice hoarse. “Gods help me, do I ever.”

Her beautiful face hardened, something in her eyes growing cold. “So I’ve often seen, more through the years than I care to count. You’ve been kind, Jon. Courteous to a fault. Do you feel you have more a right to me because you haven’t resorted to slobbering and pawing?”

“No!” Jon went milk-pale, horrified at the very implication. “I would never dishonor you! I was never going to tell you, I swear it. Never belittle your worth with a delusion that I’d have any hope of your hand.”

“Hand?” In her confusion, something softened, peering at him with a puzzled, considering expression. “You mean to wed?”

Jon looked ill at the very idea of continuing to discuss his feelings, but he resolved to finish if only she could feel some measure of safety in his presence again. “A boy’s dream, my lady. I know that. I would never hurt you. Please believe me.”

“Oh, Jon.”  She drew closer, and closer still, panic rising in him as he saw faint tears glistening in her eyes. “I do. I so wished I was right, that what I saw in you was true. You just proved that.”

Hands on his shoulders, lips a breath away from his, Jon trembled, fists clenched at his sides to keep from touching her. “I won’t dishonor you,” he ground out. 

“Then wed me. But don’t leave me without knowing your love.”

“You can’t mean-”

“But i do. You return to war in a few days.”

“And you want to make yourself a landless bastard’s widow?”

“The hope is that I don’t become a widow at all. But where’s the stigma in being a bastard’s widow when I’m a bastard myself? I adore you for your honor, Jon Snow, but it’s not your honor I want to know before you ride into battle.”

“Gods help me. Gods help us both.”

It was the gods he prayed to save them that they wed themselves before later that night, kneeling before the sad-faced weirwood, then bedding down beneath its red-dripped branches. 

He kissed his love with the virility of youth, with the guilty passion and love he’d been harboring. They separated only before the need for breath became too great. He exhaled softly, not daring to open his eyes as deft fingers threaded through his dark hair to pull him into another kiss. His arms tightening around her, his hands grew restless, aching to explore further. Desire raged through him in a sudden storm of longing, tantalizing him to the point of desperation. 

He groaned, a low rumble resounding through his chest. At the sudden sound, they pulled away, each regarding the other with shy, darkened eyes. 

It was Jon who broke through the tentative silence. “I cannot leave you with child, Sansa,” he whispered softly, touching his hand to her cheek. 

She leaned into the touch, gently sighing at the contact. “There are ways around it, love, for all that I would love to have that piece of you with me.”

“I want that as well. Someday.”

“Then come back to me.”

Jon shifted closer, dipping his head to press his lips to her ear. “Always, so long as I am breathing.” He kissed her again, allowing his lips to linger for just a moment before descending in a trail of soft kisses down her jaw and neckline. Sansa responded with a breathless gasp, her hands working up into the folds of his tunic to meet bare skin. He groaned as she touched him, aiding her in allowing the garment to fall away from his shoulders. Drawing her into his embrace, her body molded into his as he pressed close. She gazed down at him, brushing heavy hair away from his eyes, tracing her fingers along the strong features of his face. The intensity of his dark gaze followed her every movement. “Love me, Jon. Please?”

He did not hesitate, his hands beginning to stroke and caress, his mouth seeking hers in a gentle, lingering kiss. Locked in a lover’s embrace, he pressed her back against the ground, the soft earth and the fragrant grasses of the garden floor cushioning their fall. Their world faded to the touch of mouth and skin, passion overwhelming every sense but that of each other. 

Jon sighed contently as he gave into the moment. “I’ve missed you so very much.”

“I missed you as well. Thank you for keeping your promise.”

He kissed her softly, his eyes so warm and full her heart swelled with feeling. “I promised you always, as long as I breathe. I wasn’t certain you would still want this, knowing I’m not who you thought.”

“Nonsense. Jon Snow, Jon Waters, Jon Blackfyre, it doesn’t matter, as long as you remain Jon at your core. And Jon loves me still.”

“As long as I breathe,” he repeated softly, this time catching her mouth in a deep, soulful kiss. Sansa’s arms twined around his neck as she opened beautifully to his passion, his ardor, his devotion, fingers burying in his hair to drag him impossibly closer. 

She pulled back just enough to speak, only a breath’s distance between their lips. “And if my kisses steal your breath away?”

“Then we’ll share it. We did promise to share this life together.”

“Then i can’t wait to share that journey with you.”

[edwardsmate4ever]

The Phone Call

Note: This outtake is a companion piece to Chapter 4 of Visions Interrupted, but it can be read as a standalone too. What happened when Bella called Rosalie in Breaking Dawn?

 Read it on AO3 or FFN, or just read it here! 

The Phone Call

Emmett POV

   “I might be...pregnant.”

 I listened to Edward get on the line, his voice panicked as he questioned Carlisle whether such a thing was even possible.

 Bella’s pregnant? Damn, son, what?

 First thing that crossed my mind was whoa! Edward must have some super spunk or something. Was he some kind of undiscovered sex god? No fucking way. That kid was a hundred and he never even kissed a girl until Bella. He had absolutely nothing on me. If anyone was a sex god; it was definitely Emmett McCarty Cullen. This whole concept was kinda blowing my mind. Maybe Edward didn’t have to be a sex god, maybe any male vampire could do it. Maybe I had super spunk too, and if Rosalie were human… Could I have done that to her?

 But Rosalie wasn’t human, and I couldn’t knock her up. A baby was the only thing she ever wanted in the world. And now, of all people, Edward was getting one. My girl was not going to be happy about this. Turning around to look where she stood behind my seat on the couch, I saw a motionless statue. Her face was a mask, but her stillness told me everything I needed to know. This wasn’t just angry Rosalie. I knew how to handle angry Rosalie. No, this was the face that scared me. This was jealousy and rage and hurt all rolled into one, and I never knew exactly what to do when she got like that. My girl was roiling[1]  inside, and when she came back to herself, she was liable to bolt any second.

 When he hung up the phone, Carlisle turned to look at the four of us. The look of panic on his face rocked me to the core. This man was unshakeable, and here he was, completely at a loss for what to do. The others felt it too, and my anxiety spiked with all of theirs before I felt Jasper try to calm us. He wasn’t that effective though since he was just as fucked up over this revelation. We all stared at each other for a few moments before Rosalie sprang to life. She crossed the room, heading for the door. “I’ve got to get Esme,” she murmured before taking off at a run. I was pretty sure that was an excuse. I knew she was hurting and she wanted to be alone. But I also knew that even though she always said she wanted to be alone, sometimes she actually wanted someone to hold her and tell her everything would be all right. I was pretty sure this was one of those times, so I followed her out the door.

 I caught up to her quickly, and when I was a few yards away from her, she turned and fell into my arms. I clutched her to me, wrapping her up in one of my famous bear hugs. Pretty sure I’d hugged everyone in my family this way at least once when they felt really low, so I knew from experience it would help. And it did; her body went slack against mine, and she wept tearlessly on my shoulder. I buried my face in her hair, my own still heart in my throat.

 Having her own family was what Rosalie was longing for when she died, and that desire held strong into her second life. How many times had I desperately wished I could give her everything she wanted? It was damned hard knowing I could never fill that hole in her life, that it would eternally hurt for her. The fact that Bella was going to experience what she so desperately wanted was devastating. She already didn’t like Bella for choosing to give up her humanity. On top of that, now she was going to get the only thing Rosalie ever wanted and could never have.

 Pulling back from her, I swiped away her phantom tears with my thumbs and brushed her hair away from her face, bringing my hands back around to gently cup her face. “Rosie,” I whispered. “Let’s leave. We don’t have to stay here. We don’t have to watch.”

 My girl inhaled deeply and slowly exhaled, steadying herself, and I could feel the last of the tension leave her body. “Yes,” she said. “That’s perfect. I think we should leave immediately. They’ll understand if we disappear.”

 I nodded. They all knew what this would do to Rosie. They’d probably encourage us to go. Crooking an eyebrow at her, I offered, “Denali?”

 “At first, yes,” she said, nodding thoughtfully. “But then let’s find a place we’ve never been and go there.”

 “I love it,” I assured her. This was going to be awesome. Get away from all of this, just the two of us. As much as I enjoyed Bella’s presence in our family, the girl brought a lot of drama with her everywhere she went.

 As she gave me a shaky smile, her phone began to ring. It was a jarring and unexpected sound at that moment, and it startled us both. She reached into the back pocket of her jeans and read the caller ID on the screen.

 “Edward?” she exclaimed. “Why the hell is Edward calling me?” She sounded pissed off, and frankly, I kinda felt that way too. Unfortunately, it wasn't that weird to imagine Edward rubbing this in her face in some way. Sometimes that teenage assholery just came out of him, I think without him even realizing it. At least, not until it was too late. Edward was capable of some pretty cruel shit, but I didn’t think he would sink that low. This was probably really important if he was calling her now, when he knew goddamn well she would be upset.

 “Aren’t you going to answer it?” I prodded.

 She huffed. “I can’t imagine I want to hear anything he has to say.”

 “Just answer it, Rose. If he’s calling you now, it has to be important.”

 Knowing I was right and hating it, she flipped open the phone, pressing it to her ear, and begrudgingly answered, “Hello?”

 “Rosalie?” The voice was definitely not Edward’s. “It's Bella. Please, I need you to help me.”

 She wanted Rosalie’s help? Our gazes locked, and my girl’s eyes were just as wide and shocked as mine were. “What do you need, Bella?” she asked warily.

 Bella’s voice was hurried and whisper-quiet. I had to really focus to hear her end of the call. “Please, Edward’s afraid. He thinks it's bad, that it’s going to hurt me. He wants to kill our baby. He'll do it too—Carlisle is on his side. I want to keep it, Rosalie. The baby is good—I feel it. I know I can count on you to understand.”

 Rosalie’s eyes widened even larger which I really didn’t think was possible. But her eyes never left mine. I watched as fear turned to resolve, pushing aside all doubt and confusion. “Yes, Bella,” she said firmly. “I'll help you. You can count on me.”

 “Thank you,” Bella whispered with reverence, then she quickly said, “I've got to go," and the line went dead.

 Slowly, Rosalie closed her phone and slid it carefully back in her pocket. Our eyes were still locked and I'm sure my doubts showed in them. I didn't like this. It wasn't going to be good for my girl's psyche. “Rosalie, we were leaving...”

 “I know, Emmett. But weren’t you listening to Carlisle and Edward’s phone conversation a few minutes ago?”

 I shrugged and shook my head. “No, I was distracted by Edward’s super spunk.”

 She rolled her eyes like a champ, but a smile crept onto her face. She couldn't resist my dumb jokes; no one could. It was my superpower.  She quickly sobered though. “Seriously, Emmett. They were talking about aborting it. They think it’s a demon or something. They want to kill that baby, and I won’t stand by and let it happen. Bella wants me to help her keep it. She knows I’m not afraid to stand up to them. I won’t let them strong-arm her.”

 “But babe, you hate her.”

 “We’re not friends, and I don’t like her. But this isn’t about Bella and me, or about me trying to get back at Carlisle and Edward, this is about standing up for someone who can’t stand up for themselves. Standing up for something I wholeheartedly agree with, and she knows that. She didn’t call me because we’re BFFs. If she wanted that, she would have called Alice. What Bella wants is to keep her baby, and she knows I will protect this baby at any cost.”

 “But Rosie, what if this isn’t really a baby?” I tried reasoning with her. “I mean, I don’t know if a human and a vampire can have a real baby.”

 Rosalie shrugged. “If Bella thinks it is, that’s good enough for me.”

 I was really afraid this whole experience was going to break my girl, but she was committed. I knew better than to think she would be swayed. Still, I tried one last-ditch effort. “Edward will fight you. Carlisle will too.”

 “No, they won't, because I have you to protect me.”

 “Of course you do, babe,” I said and wrapped her up in a hug so she wouldn’t see my face ‘cause I wasn’t so sure I wanted to fight them on this. I thought they were probably onto something with this whole monster thing. No way did that petrified, rehydrated vampire spunk create a baby like Rosalie and Bella were thinking it would be. Edward’s spunk was from 1918 and vampified! That can’t be a good thing.

 “Come on. Let's tell Esme,” Rosalie said, pulling away and grabbing my arm, unaware that I was having a crisis of morality over here. “She'll be on our side.”

 Only I wasn't so sure I was on her side. As we ran to the cottage, I did my best to compartmentalize my emotions. I had to put the scared and nervous feelings in a box, and pull out the strong and stoic bodyguard persona. I wasn’t used to covering up my emotions. No point with an empath in the house.

 Empath, telepath, fortuneteller—all the gifteds thought they owned the place. And the worst part was that the two of us and Carlisle and Esme encouraged their egos by being lazy and relying on their gifts too much. Me and Rosie felt like second-class citizens in our own family a lot of the time. That was one of the reasons why we honeymooned so often and for so long—it was just more relaxing not having to watch everything we said, or did, or felt, or thought even.

 Now, instead of getting away and feeling every fucked-up emotion that Rose had every right to feel, she was going to have to gracefully face it all head on. Although, I supposed it was possible there really was a baby inside Bella, and if Rosalie was able to help Bella keep it, maybe Bella would let her help raise it. And that was it—the light bulb moment. I knew then that was the reason Rosalie agreed, as painful as her emotions were. Because in the end, there was a chance Rosalie would get her wish, the baby she always wanted. Even if Bella had to die for her to get it. And I was going to have to stand by and support them, no matter what happened, whether it sat well in my stomach or not. I loved Rosie and only wanted her happiness. After the circumstances of her human death, she needed to be able to trust me fully if our relationship was ever going to work, and I always told Rosalie I’d do anything for her. But this? This was tough to swallow and went against everything my head was telling me was right. My head knew this was wrong, but my heart was dedicated to my Rosie, and I would stand by my vow to give her the world, even if I didn’t like it.

 The cottage was in sight and Esme stepped out to meet us, a smile on her face that quickly faded as she took in our dark expressions.

 “What’s going on?” she asked, worry clouding her normally easy tone.

 Rosalie just laid it out on the table. “Bella’s pregnant, Edward wants to kill it, but she wants to keep it.”

 Esme’s mouth dropped open. “Pregnant? How?” Then she gasped, her hand flying up to cover her mouth. “Oh! You don’t think she and Jacob…”

 “Wow, Esme. I’m surprised you took it there,” I praised her, holding my hand up for a high five, which she did not return, leaving me hanging.

 “You’re worse than Emmett. Too many soap operas and reality shows,” Rosalie teased her. “But seriously, no, Edward’s the father. He and Carlisle want to take it out of her. But she called me, Esme. Bella stole Edward’s phone and called me when she had a few minutes alone. She asked me to help her protect it. She's afraid of what they'll do.”

 Esme gasped again with shock and she looked like she might faint if that were possible. But when I saw that same resolve I saw in Rosalie’s eyes forming in Esme’s face, I knew Esme was on ‘our’ side. She was thinking baby, not monster, just like Rosalie. The possibility that it was anything other than a baby probably never even crossed her mind.

 “Will you help her?” Esme asked Rosalie.

 “I told Bella I would, and I will. It's her choice, not theirs, and I’ll fight for her right to carry this baby. Will you help me?”

 Esme stood up straighter, her chin jutting forward. “Of course I will.”

 “Do you think you can convince Carlisle not to abort?”

 “I do.” No hesitation. Of course not. Carlisle would do anything for her, just like I was doing for Rosie.

 “Perfect. We have to act like nothing is up when we get back to the house. Edward doesn’t know she asked for help—it was a covert move. We have to act like there’s nothing amiss.”

 “No problem.”

 Apparently, I wasn’t going to be consulted. It was clear that my opinion didn’t matter. They never once even looked at me as they plotted. I was a man, so I had no say in this. I was only needed as a shield, and that’s what I’d be. Anything to make Rosie happy, to get her the only thing she ever wanted. What kind of mate would I be if I didn’t? Still, my conscience was eating at me, not sure what this thing was going to end up doing to Bella. She was pretty fragile. What if she ended up dying? What would that do to my brother? Would he hate me forever for standing by my mate? This shit was fucked up, and the only thing clear to me was how long we’d been gone.

 “Ladies,” I interrupted. “We should probably get back. We’ve been gone a while now. We were only supposed to be telling you what happened and bringing you back. The phone call took some time.” I didn’t mention Rosalie’s breakdown, and she shot me a grateful look.

 “Well, if anyone asks, we’ll say I got upset, and you two had to talk me down. That sounds like a plausible explanation for why we’ve been gone for a while, doesn’t it?” Rosalie and I both nodded. “Good, let’s go then.” With that, the three of us raced off to the main house to face whatever came next, bound to protect what some of our family was bent on destroying.

 Extra special thanks to @palmofafreezinghand for being an awesome beta for this and VI

[sepublic]

Amity’s ‘role’ in Luz’s fantasy

          So recently I had an epiphany thanks to @lost-gatesofhell, about Luz and her initial interest in Amity. I have to wonder if at first, Luz was partially interested in befriending Amity because it’d be like Azura befriending HER rival... In the sense that she’s trying to live out her fantasies, without considering that Amity is her own person and not a ‘prize’ to be won. I hate to compare Luz like this... but it could’ve been like how Warden Wrath was drawn to the ‘allure’, the IDEA of Eda as someone who was ‘hard to get’, a prize to be won... Of course in Luz’s case, she’s a lot less patronizing and objectifying of Amity, as seen when she respects the girl’s boundaries as soon as they’re set.

         Still, there’s this idea that while Luz is working on it, she hasn’t totally overcome her penchant for applying fantasy to real life and projecting her little adventures over what’s actually happening, for the sake of living them out... Obviously she learned her lesson in Episode 2, but like anyone else she’s not perfect and still liable to making the same mistakes from time to time, even if they’re a lot less frequent. Particularly, Luz learned not to expect the Boiling Isles to specifically cater to her fantasies, and to recognize situations for what they actually were. If Luz wanted a ‘magical destiny’ or adventure or anything like that, she’d have to work for it to happen, as Eda suggested.

         Of course, while Luz learned not to be entitled nor to expect life to just hand over her fantasies to her, there’s still this expectation and willingness to use Amity to fulfill that enemies to lovers friends trope, under the idea that at least Luz is ‘working’ for it. Luz knew then that things wouldn’t automatically be how she wanted them to be, and that she had to recognize this; But she’s still willing to make them fit her idealized fantasy regardless... Again tying back to what Eda said about having to ‘make your own destiny’, but there’s also the issue of boundaries and limits to be set, especially when actual people are involved.

        Sometimes, you just can’t live out your fantasy, period… Nor can you expect reality to change into it, even if you DO put in the work to alter it accordingly. Even if it is possible, is it ethical and worth the effort to steamroll over the autonomy of others, and see them only as tropes and roles to fulfill in your story? Not as people with their own stories? Maybe it’s pointless to try to make up for this by occasionally ‘fulfilling your part’ in another person’s story, because nobody should have to deal with that sort of expectation at all, period! Even if it’s consensual on behalf of both parties, it’s still pretty sus... And it ties into the ideas of the Coven System, of Witches having to fulfill a certain role, be it as the Bard, or the Oracle, or the Illusionist... That you have to stick to a particular trope, that there’s no mixing parts or being creative with this!

       Everybody has to be quickly and readily defined by a specific role they can neatly fit into, as ordained by Belos; There’s no room for growing beyond that, save for special people like those who fit into the Emperor’s Coven, the kind who are worthy of being ‘main characters’ in a sense, and thus allowed to be fleshed-out and ‘unique’! Everybody else, though- They’re a side-character, an NPC. It’s like those jokes of friend groups consisting of ‘the smart one’, the ‘funny one’, ‘the jock’, etc., but taken to a dark and far too literal extreme. There’s no room for someone to be the funny one AND a jock, that guy’s already a jock, don’t encroach on other people’s roles, you’ll get distracted from the specific function you have to fulfill!

        (There isn’t anything wrong with doing this in writing of course, especially since one is handling fictional characters and not real people; But from an in-universe perspective, these characters ARE actual people to one another. After all, in real life one wouldn’t define someone as JUST a chef, they also have other aspects and interests to their life that aren’t solely related to food! It’s like the revelation that teachers have lives outside of school, or how that person you know on the internet probably has a job unrelated to whatever interest they’re talking about. People aren’t JUST the jobs they do, and it’s unreasonable to expect them to dedicate their entire existence to fulfilling that role. People should have breaks and be allowed to pursue different interests, maybe even leave their ‘job’ if it’s no longer for them. So YES Karen, this person’s job IS to help customers, but that doesn’t mean their entire worth and meaning as a person solely revolves around this, nor should this person be expected to help customers 24/7 when their shift has already ended anyway.)

          But back to the subject... Luckily, Luz’s issue with molding reality into her fantasy is confronted and further resolved by Wing it like Witches. And even if Luz was projecting her stories onto Amity a bit in order to live out a ‘rivals to friends’ fantasy... It’s worth noting that Luz was also legit interested in Amity as a friend, too! Not to mention Luz is VERY concerned about earning Amity’s approval in Adventures in the Elements... Maybe part of Luz’s motive is not wanting to mess up with an ‘elusive’ friendship, or that’s what Luz tells herself... But more than likely, it’s indicative of a crush that Luz isn’t aware of. Sadly, this girl hasn’t had enough social interaction to differentiate between plantonic friendship desires and being romantically attracted to an actual peer VS a fictional character!

         Which is yet another reason why I love Lost in Language, it’s that Luz was interested in the idea of befriending Amity, of a rival turned friend, rather than just Amity herself... And maybe Amity overheard this when Luz mentioned “First I befriend the siblings, then Amity!” and that contributed to her tomato face of anger- Having the painful barriers she’d erected as a trauma response and the loneliness that came from that being trivialized isn’t great. Amity didn’t appreciate being objectified like that, solely for the emotional barriers she’d set up for a reason. It’s one thing to want to be Amity’s friend the way Boscha and others did- But is Luz really interested in Amity, or just in the idea of her? Is this love conditional on Amity’s social status, which Amity is told is both inherent to her as a Blight, and yet something she has to constantly earn and maintain? Especially the idea of ‘winning’ Amity, that’d be particularly patronizing… But very quickly, Luz remembers that Amity is her own separate individual, who doesn’t exist to fulfill her fantasies.

        Luz appreciates Amity as she really is (perhaps not coincidentally after getting insight into the girl’s true personality through her diary entries), which leads to Luz working to protect Amity’s boundaries by keeping her diary from Emira and Edric! There’s the idea of getting to know and appreciate Amity for who she really is, and Luz working to let the girl embrace that part of herself both internally and externally as well... Which again ties back into the idea of projecting the idea/image of fantasies onto someone/something, VS accepting what/who they actually are, and thus appreciating them even more as a result!

         Amity, of course, realizes that Luz is genuine and actually wants to know about the person she really is... And she’s baffled. While she was no doubt offended by Luz possibly seeing her more as a trope to fulfill than an actual person, it probably wouldn’t have been anything new to Amity; The idea of others seeing her as a means to an end, given how her own parents and Lilith did the same! Disappointing, but not surprising...

        But now it IS surprising, because Luz wants to know about Amity- And she’s not used to good things in life, alas? And how to respond? She’s well familiar with the process of rejecting people, but when it comes to accepting someone- What does she do then? And this plays into Amity’s insecurities and confusion about Luz and how she feels, not wanting to lose a friend, not wanting to hurt them, not wanting to ruin things if Luz wants her only as a friend... Not sure if Luz really means it or not because she’s still insecure, and OF COURSE the idea of a crush, and wondering what Luz could see in someone like her?!

        Amity at least better understood Luz’s motives back when she assumed it was just to fulfill her Azura fantasies, because Amity was familiar with those and her own desire for them. But now that Luz has given up on that... Why does she continue to be so interested in Amity, of all people? And even if Luz was still living out her fantasies, what more could Amity accomplish anyway, now that she’s a friend to Luz; Why does Luz continue to express interest in Amity, and be willing to do so much for the girl? Luz already got her Rivals-to-Friends trope in Amity, but she continues to hang out with the girl of her own volition and unconditionally help her; And Amity is possibly freaking out on what Luz’s motives are, even though she at least knows the girl isn’t a bully and means well!

        Mostly, I think Amity KNOWS that Luz is interested in being a genuine friend... But she’s still overwhelmed by the idea of someone being romantically interested in her, or at least more interested in Amity as a friend compared to others; Because the girl underestimates her own worth too much, she doesn’t see herself as worth getting to know if she doesn’t specifically accomplish a purpose! Odalia and Alador conditioned Amity to evaluate others based on their usefulness, or else be useful to others... So Amity is wondering what about her is so specifically appealing to Luz, especially when Luz has disregarded all of Amity’s other traits that make her ‘worthwhile’, such as her intelligence, social status, knowledge on magic, etc. The only thing left about Amity, to appreciate... Are the things that define her as individual, not as a Blight or a Top Student! And it’s unimaginable, or at least surreal to the girl, for Luz to be interested in that...

       Amity only knows friendship in terms of being ‘useful’ to someone else... Emira and Edric were genuinely interested in Amity as a person, but she’s probably dismissed this as a given since they’re family members, not to mention Ed and Em have admittedly done their part in making Amity doubt how much she means to them. So what does Amity do, when Luz expects nothing of her? No doubt Amity feels like she’s a ‘parasite’, that she’s leeching off of Luz’s good nature and not giving back enough... Maybe she’ll feel like she has compensate for their friendship and justify it, only for Luz to make it clear to Amity that just being with the girl, and seeing her be happy, is all she’ll ever need! And it’ll amaze Amity, and mean so much to her, to realize that she’s inherently worthwhile, and that she doesn’t need to ‘prove’ herself to others in order to be lovable...

         TL;DR Luz was initially trying to live out a ‘rivals to friends’ story, but learned not to objectify Amity like this... And when confronted with a growing crush on the Blight girl, Luz possibly assumed she was just relapsing into old habits. But inevitably, Luz is becoming more and more aware of how much she just genuinely likes Amity as a person, no strings attached, that the girl is irreplaceable to her. And when Amity recognizes that there’s no big secret to why she means so much to Luz, other than just being herself, that Luz’s love isn’t dependent on superficial traits that could easily be replicated by someone else, that Amity is irreplaceable to Luz... It’ll do wonders for her crippled self-esteem, as she learns that she doesn’t need to impress people in order to be loved. Amity, as she already is, without having to make any efforts to improve herself, is already worth loving both in the platonic and romantic sense!

      As for Luz, well- She didn’t get the fantasy she expected... But she still got to live out a different one. Amity really IS this girl’s fantasy, and this time, I mean it in the best way possible!

[boundlesshart]

foundations

takes place between the wyvern moon and the ethereal moon

Judith warned him all those moons ago. “Your grandfather still thinks that you’re liable to get yourself killed at the Officers Academy.  Don’t try proving him right, otherwise I’ll have to come down and set you straight myself.”

It had been the night before the Knights of Seiros were due to arrive, to escort the heir of the Leicester Alliance to the Officers Academy alongside the prince and princess. Dimitri and Edelgard. Claude only knows their names, but already he thinks of them as friends. The old man hemmed and hawed for a year over if Claude would see this "Officers Academy" for himself, but the announcement of their attendance forced his hand. He didn't look happy. My joy is his pain, Claude had thought bitterly.

His own announcement had been quiet and subdued, per Oswald's insistence. Claude wanted celebrations. A feast, a party, a smile on his grandfather's face, not the mournful look of a man about to send his son to his death. And especially not some old woman breathing down his neck. "Uh-huh. And how would you find out?"

“Oh I’ll find out. I have eyes everywhere, boy. Don’t forget that.” Judith's words went in one ear and out the other, and Claude forgot them as soon as he waved her off. And so the conversation ended.

For all of Oswald's fretting, hardly anything terrible happened this year. Well, sure, there was the incident in the Sealed Forest, an incident that Claude had been very careful to avoid referencing in his letters back. Oswald write fairly frequently–once a moon, 'are you eating well, sleeping well, are you making friends?'. Judith writes, but less frequently. Only to chew him out for slacking in class, and those letters were always too timely.

Claude had a hunch. He always did–his upbringing fostered a habit of observing others and collecting hunches. The question was never if there were Daphnel spies watching his movements, but where they were. How far does this go? Who is spying for Judith von Daphnel, and how far does her reach go?

Then he gets punched in the face. And as it turns out, that reach is pretty damn far.

—————

"Stop your gawking, boy. It's unbecoming of Oswald's heir."

Claude forces his eyes away from Judith's face, but that only adds to the pot of roiling emotions inside of him. Confusion at seeing Judith so far from Daphnel territory. Embarrassment at being caught in a moment of weakness. Shock that she had come because she already knew what had happened to him, and the anger that ensued that yes, all this time, there had been eyes on him, watching. The privacy he thought he had, being away from Derdriu, had been a mirage all this time.

Upset isn't the word he's looking for to describe how he's feeling, but it's getting there.

He hasn't said a word to her since they were seated in the common room. That's not like Claude, but in privacy, with just him and his aunt, all of his carefully built rules and strategies fly out the window. Judith von Daphnel may not know all his tricks, but she knows them well enough to trap him if she feels the need to.

So when Claude finally speaks, it's honest, and carefully neutral. "What are you doing here?"

"Confirming a rumor," Judith answers simply, punctuated with a sip of her whiskey. "We got word back in Derdriu that you were coming back with a terrible injury on your face. And I'm sure you can imagine how Oswald reacted to that. But enough of that for now. First, let me get a closer look." Leaning over the table, Judith takes Claude's chin in her hand. Her touch is gentle but firm, as she carefully turns his head. A sympathetic tut. "Hmm. Not as bad as the report made it out to be. But it's hardly pretty. What did the healer say?"

"...That it'll heal." When Judith releases him, Claude resists the urge to rub over where her hand was. "Told me to avoid getting punched and visit the infirmary twice a week for checkups. In two moons' time, I'll only have a scar to remember it by."

"A scar?" Judith's raises her eyebrows, but only for a moment before she nods to herself. "Right, right, the gauntlet." Claude's eye twitches, but he lets her continue, "Well, the bright side is the report exaggerated things a bit. This is about what I expected for what happened. But seeing this for myself... well, I'm just glad you're holding up."

Holding up? That's a new one. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Delicate area and all. A black eye is one thing–we've all gotten one some way or another. Being the troublemaker you are, I'm sure you're familiar with those. Am I right?" Claude can't help but huff in laughter, and Judith smiles in return, "There you go, loosen up a bit. Broken bones near your eye, from that prince who can't get his Crest under control, it's a serious matter. When we heard... well, words can't explain it. The old man was beside himself. Ready to write a letter to Rufus about the incident. I was barely able to convince him otherwise."

"It wasn't that bad," Claude tries.

"I said it wasn't as bad as I thought, but you can hardly wave it away and call it nothing." More whiskey pours into her cup, and more water in his. "In any case, Oswald is right to have his concerns about his grandson. The most you can do right now is put up with it."

Claude frowns, though it pulls at his bruise. Of course. His dreams of leading Leicester and implementing his goals as its sovereign duke have keeps his mind focused on what matters. But even they can't erase what feels like ever-increasing restrictions on what he can or cannot do. The last thing Claude needs is more hurdles in a country that prides itself on erecting them.

Judith breaks the silence between them with a sharp thump, her glass hitting the wooden endtable. "Right! To business, then. Oswald sent with me clerics that will help with the healing process. Some of his own personal healers, so they're familiar with you as you should be of them. I'm certain the nurses here at the Officers Academy are quite skilled at what they do, but you know how he is.

"Yeah." Claude takes a sip of water to hide his sudden grimace. That's going to be conspicuous.

"The Ethereal Ball is in two moons," Judith adds. "It'll be tight, but I'm certain it will heal in time. Oswald also wrote letters for all your professors to excuse you from your exercise drills while you recover. I'll give them to you before I leave, so make sure you get it to them before classes resume."

"Mmm." More meddling. More silence.

"Did it hurt?"

Claude looks up at Judith, to the concerned look in her eyes. He ought to have an answer–he does, doesn't he?–but nothing comes out.

"I know you like to forge on ahead on your own," she continues carefully, "and that you have the confidence to believe in yourself even when we push against you. But you know that you're not alone in this, right?"

"...I know that."

"You have family to rely on when things go wrong. ...You also have people that are relying on you.  People to consider, and who shouldn't be left behind or ignored." There it is, the way Judith's voice hardens when she's trying to make a point. "Independence is an admirable trait to have, but there are times when you take it too far."

"...It's only that–I know my limits, and that I haven't hit them yet. Oswald, grandfather... he's so overbearing. And I know, I know, Godfrey!" Claude snaps when Judith opens her mouth. Of course, he regrets it soon after when her face falls, and her expression hardens as her voice had. But still he goes on, "I'm not him. Things won't end like it did with him. I don't need protection."

A pregnant pause. Judith making him wait, no doubt, and Claude steadily returns her gaze. He misstepped earlier, and no doubt he's paying for it now. It's fair of her, more than fair. Claude should know better than to throw the name of her dead husband back at her like some kind of curse.

She lets out a deep sigh. A tired sigh. "Alright. You've made your point. But some food for thought..." Judith takes another sip of her whiskey, swirling it in its cup. "There's a lot riding on you. There was a lot riding on Godfrey, too, and he broke under the pressure of it all." Another pause. "In some ways you have less support than he did, but you still have support. The Alliance is a country where no man can be allowed to forge ahead on his own. He is one of a group that works together for the betterment of all. That's the ideal, anyways... The sooner you learn that, the easier your time here will be. Just give it some thought, will you?"

—————

Judith's parting gift included Oswald's letters, but also a small pot of a brown, perfumed substance. "It's makeup. Don't give me that face," she scolds him, scowling. "When I was a girl attending the Officers Academy, the marketplace rarely had anything that could cover my blemishes without making me look like I came back from the dead." Then the pot is forced into his hands. "It'll be useful for you, better than an eyepatch in any case. The men of Derdriu cover their blemishes with this too, if it makes you feel any better."

It didn't, really. Not at the time. But Judith's gift was intended to be a tool, and so Claude tried to think of it as such. At least the scent of rosewater was a familiar one. A comforting one. It reminded him of his mother, and of Aunt Judith as well.

—————

Two weeks before the ball, the Riegan clerics returned to Derdriu. And in the early morning before it, Claude inspects himself in the mirror.

The bruising is long gone. His fingers scrape at the last bit of rose-scented paste clinging to the pot to cover the dark scar on his cheek. The skin already healed there, the clerics had explained to him. There is no way to undo its work. When Claude dabs makeup over it, though, the scar all but disappears. He tilts his head, smiles at himself in the mirror. Perfect.

Claude had his misgiving about this at first. But to be able to conceal his bruising and live his life normally, just as himself... when he writes to Judith for another pot, he'll have to let her know how invaluable that was to him.

He leaves his room shortly after, brushing past the stacks of papers on his desk. Underneath half-written essays and class notes are a set of unopened letters from Duke Riegan himself from two moons ago, buried and forgotten. No one that knew Claude von Riegan would think he'd actually hand those into his professors, Judith least of all.

[massoccurs]

TARGET   :   WAYNE   ,   DAMIAN   ...   [  nap  ]  sender  falls  asleep  against  receiver

        THE   WEIGHT   ON   HER   SHOULDER   IS   STARTLING   TO   SAY   THE   LEAST.   she hadn’t been paying attention   ,   guard down for a fleeting moment. she had no reason to believe herself and damian anything less than allies   ---   besides   ,   she’s confident in her abilities   ,   even if he did get the jump on her. what he does now   ,   though   ,   confuses her far more than a strike from his blade ever could.

        she glances to him with a sort of faux annoyance   ---   his neck is bent at an awkward angle. nothing had been intentional about his position   ,   just exhaustion settling into a young body. it’s painfully familiar   ---   a child   ,   only a child given a life so cruel   ,   so liable to leave them wearied. jezebel is certainly softer now than she was only years ago.

      ❝   you’re going to hurt yourself sleeping like that   ,   stupid.   ❞   her voice is barely even a whisper. her teeth sink into her lower lip as she thinks hard for a moment. with great care as to not wake him   ,   she slips an arm around his shoulders   ,   propping him up gently so that he’s in a better position to actually rest.

@batssassain​ 

[magichcuse]

Since Among Us had an update and this blog went through more changes, I thought I'd revisit AMONGic hoUSe.

Vivi would totally be gray in her emo phase.

I was considering making Dedrick gray but I couldn't help but put him next to his dad because I thought it was cute.

Aurelia insists on Ebony being black and herself being white because she thinks it is a Clever Twin Thing.

I made Franklin tan because I felt bad for making him brown in the original post, but gray didn't really seem to suit him.

Since there are New Pink Adjacent Colors, I made Johnny be cyan so Delilah can be pink.

Aurelia absolutely hates being the impostor while Ebony enjoys stabbing people into oblivion.

However—Ebony refuses to kill Walter in the game and if someone kills Walter in the game, they're the first person she targets when she becomes the impostor.

Aurelia follows Ebony around everywhere at the expense of her own tasks. Ebony usually has to finish her tasks before following Aurelia during her tasks because she refuses to leave Ebony's side. This makes things more complicated for Ebony if she is impostor and Aurelia isn't. She'd follow Aurelia around during her tasks while also trying to sneak away to kill people, usually by sabotaging lights.

Despite her discomfort with being an impostor, Aurelia isn't completely opposed to killing people. Her favorite target is Johnny, though she prefers to cause chaos by killing people as Johnny. For instance, she might kill Franklin in front of Delilah while in disguise or go as far as to make Alroy believe his dad actually killed him in the game.

Johnny always tries to kill Ebony, Theo, and Patrick if he's the impostor (assuming none of them are also impostors). Unfortunately for him, Ebony is hard to kill because of Aurelia following her around. Sometimes, he changes direction and kills Dedrick first to spite Theo and Patrick...this is especially liable to happen if Theo happens to be an impostor alongside Johnny.

If Johnny happens to be a shape-shifter while he's impostor, he'd disguise himself as Theo while killing people because he's petty like that. This may or may not cause Patrick to get his feelings hurt because he thinks Theo actually killed him in the game.

If Ebony somehow gets separated from Aurelia while Johnny is the shape-shifter, he disguises himself as Ebony to trick Aurelia into following him and kills her so he can have an easier time killing Ebony.

There is an unspoken rule to not shape-shift into Alroy because doing that will most likely trigger a panic attack.

Maude may or may not accidentally shape-shift into Alroy anyway because she can't keep track of who is who. This also means she sometimes unintentionally kills her own children while impostor and she feels guilty about it for the rest of the night.

Similarly, Patrick sometimes gets confused by the various shades of pink...meaning he sometimes kills Vivian and/or Delilah when he's trying to kill Kathleen. He doesn't really care if he mistakenly kills Delilah, but he feels guilty if he kills Vivian.

Walter faces a dilemma whenever he's impostor because he's close to most of the people also playing the game. After he kills Johnny, he starts feeling lost. If Maude, Zanna, and Franklin aren't also impostors...they're usually next on Walter's hit list.

After Alroy breaks her heart, Vivian wouldn't hesitate to kill Alroy if the opportunity presents itself while Dahlia deliberately hunts him down and kills him even if there are witnesses because she wants to get him that badly.

I could honestly make an entire post about guardian angels because I have lots of headcanons for that.

[wickedmilo]

DO BETTER | MILO & VIC

PLACE: A bar TIMING: A couple of weeks before ‘Sweet Summer Child’ SUMMARY: Milo confronts a familiar face, and Vic is forced to reconsider her values WRITING PARTNER: @natusvincere CONTENT WARNINGS: Drug abuse, alcohol, mentions of drug manipulation

Milo was having a good night. The club he was in had a respectable reputation compared to the ones he was more liable to frequent, and he was enjoying the unexpected change of pace. The atmosphere was more controlled somehow, far less chaotic than a room filled with unpredictable people using unpredictable substances. He had even enjoyed a handful of cocktails which was very much not his speed, and now, relatively buzzed, was flitting about the establishment, making friends where he could, talking people into buying rounds when they began to enjoy his company. It was a routine that worked seemingly regardless of where he was, he only wished people counted utilising his charisma as a genuine skill. As far as he was concerned, it was the only thing he was good at. Leaning back against the bar, carefully scanning the vicinity for anybody he had yet to talk to, it didn’t take him long to spot a woman sitting alone at a table beside a window. He watched her for a few minutes, intrigued by her apparent misery. It wouldn’t take a genius to read her body language and realise she was brooding, hugging a drink, lost in thought, and all but dead to the world. He considered approaching her, maybe offering her some company, but then she turned her head, and the floor seemed to fall out from underneath him.  

He gripped at the counter, his knuckles turning white as he was thrust back into memories that made his chest tight with anxiety. Waking up alone, and undead, was unlike anything else he had been through. Even now he couldn’t find a way to handle the fear, and confusion that had accompanied his first day as a vampire. Which was why it was so difficult to stay focused, to stay in the present. He could see her in the alleyway at night, remember her face as she had pulled his victim out from under him. She had thrown down the body, berated him for being obvious. And when it became clear he didn’t know what was happening, this woman, the woman only a few yards away from him, had told him what he was. Maybe he should be grateful, although she had done nothing to ease his confusion, she had given him an explanation, attempted to save the person he had inevitably murdered. But she had been apathetic, and cold. Something that was equally as difficult for him to forget. Yes, this woman had offered him help, the absolute bare minimum, but she had also left him alone to watch somebody die. To watch somebody take their final breath knowing he was responsible. He had woken up to a world he wasn’t familiar with, one he hadn’t even known was anything more than fiction, and his lifeline had offered him next to nothing. 

Blinking tears from his eyes, willing himself to stay grounded, the alcohol in his system helped as he pulled himself back, as he attempted to ignore the almost painful storm of emotion threatening to overwhelm him. He didn’t know what to do. He should leave, maybe he should leave. Did he really want anything to do with her? But a small part of him was curious. She might know about the vampire who had taken his life, she might be able to give him a name, or a description, and shit, he was desperate. Not only that, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, she had helped him. For better or for worse, she had thrown him a few crumbs when he needed them most. There had to be some good in her. Pushing away from the bar, ignoring his shaking hands, he crossed the space between them with the air of somebody about to conduct an interview. His head was spinning, but he fought to feign some composure. “Remember me?”  

Vic’s walk with Morgan had left a pit of self loathing in her stomach, and she’d been frequenting bars a lot more than normal ever since the endeavor.  Drinking, an activity she barely ever had the chance to enjoy before, numbed the pain in a sickeningly sweet way.  You could still remember what happened, you still knew you were a shitty person, but at least it didn’t feel like your insides were being ripped out because of it.  She counted the grains of salt she’d poured out at her table, moving them back and forth methodically.  Remember me?  The voice shouldn’t have been talking to her, but still, she looked up. 

She recognized him the moment she laid eyes on him, but the alcohol dulled the emotions that tried to sweep in.  Still, she remembered the event clear as day, especially since it was a night she looked back on often.  She was walking home after a shift at the silver bullet, only to be distracted by the sounds of someone being attacked in an alleyway.  And, much to her chagrin, the smell of blood.  Her stomach turned at the sight of what she saw when she arrived, and she practically threw the vampire off his victim.  He seemed confused, and she’d assumed, at first, that he was drunk- a viable explanation for his sloppiness.  When she was sure no one was around, she somehow convinced the man to stick around, assuring him that she’d help him home when really, she had already pinged their location to a hunter.  This should have been a simple payday for her, in all honesty.  But it wasn’t long before she realized the man’s confusion wasn’t due to drunkenness, but naivety, and for the first time in a while, she faltered.  It seemed someone had turned this man and then left him to his own devices, and now he was roaming the streets of White Crest even more dangerous than others of his kind. Their kind.  Somewhere in her explanation to him, a sense of empathy wiggled it’s way into her heart.  She knew what it was like to have your world ripped out from under you, how confusing and devastating it was to suddenly desire the blood that her new brain forced her to lust after.  And while she didn’t understand why, she sent another short text to the hunter before it was too late.  ‘False Alarm’. 

He would still be on his own, but at least now he knew what he was- if he developed the morality to avoid human blood, or even better, the wherewithal to leave town, then she mused she could avoid seeing him and facing the consequences of letting him go forever.  If not, a hunter was always a text away.  Devastatingly, his victim was too far gone to help.  Maybe it could serve as a lesson to him.  They were monsters, and the proof was right there in front of him.  “Learn to control yourself so you don’t do this again”, had been all she offered before she left.   

He should have left town.  Or left well enough alone.  But here he was again, approaching her as if they were old friends.  Despite the alcohol, guilt gnawed at her stomach when she thought about how many people might have already died as a result of her letting him go.  She needed to alert a hunter about him immediately, and fix her old mistakes.  More guilt came when she thought about the implications from Morgan, and the idea of innocent vampires and how many she might have hurt. “Can’t say that I do”, she said, offering him a false smile and a head tilt.  “But then, I don’t typically remember old fucks.  Remind me- did you live in the outskirts? Or was it closer to the common?”  Better get a location on him now, rather than have to search for it later.  This could be one and done, if she played her cards right. 

Ignoring the urge to join the woman in counting the salt grains on the table, Milo forced himself to hold her gaze. Of all the vampire related changes in his life, the desire to count had to be the most ridiculous. At first he had assumed Harsh was joking. That was until his roommate poured out a handful of rice and told him to look at it carefully. Alone in Harsh’s kitchen it hardly mattered, but he wasn’t about to let something as mundane as mathematics distract him now. So he laughed sharply, unable to quite process his company’s words. Did she honestly think he was a one night stand? Did she really have no recollection of finding him bloody, and terrified, curled up in an alleyway? She had to be lying, he needed her to be lying. The alternative was far too hurtful.  

If she didn’t remember him then his pain was insignificant. The one person who bore witness to his stress, and his trauma, didn’t care enough to recollect it. “Yeah, that really isn’t how we know each other.” He muttered, unable to hold back. He felt too on edge, too uncomfortable to lean into a casual demeanour. Not to mention the thought of him taking a woman home was literally laughable. “You can’t be serious.” He eyed her for any hint she might not be telling him the truth, watching her in the hope of her body language or her facial expressions giving her away. “You know me. You have to know me.”  

Vic went on pretending that she didn’t remember the man, and as a result, didn’t care about his presence next to her anymore than she would any other asshole in the bar trying to hit on her.  Her finger rested gently on a single grain of salt, and she spun it around nonchalantly.  Internally, a million thoughts were racing through her mind. She really knew 

nothing about him other than that first night when he was nothing more than a monstrous infant.  Perhaps a one and done would be wreckless- how could she take him down if she didn’t know the way to go about it?  And then there was the issue of her conversation with Morgan, and the idea that what she did was no better than the vampires themselves- it was a ridiculous thought.  As if there were innocent, peaceful vampires.  But still, the words were there, growing and eating at her almost every second her mind was active.  On top of all of that- there were plenty of reasons to feel guilty about the way she left him that night- for one, the amount of damage he must have done as an unsired vampire could have been insurmountable, and Vic herself was to blame for letting him live. But the next reason was much deeper, and one she shut away whenever it crept into her heart- what type of person was she to leave him alone to deal with it all on his own? Scared and confused and alone.  She hated her sire, but what would have become of her without the training she’d received from her?  What type of person would she have been if she helped a vampire? 

She rolled her eyes, finally looking into his eyes reluctantly.  “Oh, right”, she said, blank faced and monotone.  She didn’t have the mental energy to put on the charm she usually did when gathering information about suspected vampires, especially not three drinks in.  “The guy from the alley?  I guess I didn’t recognize you without all the carnage.”  She blinked, shaking her head.  This was not the way to go about this, not if she wanted more information about him.  She sat up a bit straighter, clearing her throat.  “Why don’t you sit down-...I’d love to catch up.  I don’t think I even caught your name that night.” 

Not expecting the eye contact after his company had spent so long attempting to avoid it, Milo felt himself shrink under the woman’s gaze. His anger, and frustration at her supposedly being unable to remember him was quickly replaced by anxiety, and fear. She was a vampire. Not the one responsible for killing him, but a vampire all the same. For all he knew she was dangerous, and that terrified him. He was reminded of why he had been so nervous to approach her, but then she spoke again, deciding to admit she knew exactly who he was, and exactly how they had crossed paths with each other. Setting his jaw at the mention of carnage, it was becoming easier and easier to force down his guilt. He wasn’t the person to blame for what had taken place. His sire had turned him, left him alone. The blood wasn’t on his hands. He had been, and still was, the victim. If he kept reminding himself of that fact, maybe one day he might just believe it.  

“You- you want to catch up?” The words seemed to echo in his ears, they were ridiculous given the situation. Why was she talking to him like an old friend? Why was she talking to him like this wasn’t serious? Like if his heart was still beating it wouldn’t be pounding uncomfortably in his chest? “We wouldn’t need to catch up if you hadn’t left me.” He said, surprising himself with his bravery. Every instinct in him was telling him to keep his mouth shut, to be well behaved, and amicable. But he was being honest, she had to know it was the truth. He didn’t know her, he had no way of knowing why she hadn’t decided to stick around, and maybe a part of him understood he hadn’t been her responsibility. She had pulled him away from the person unlucky enough to approach him, he supposed in a vain attempt to save their life, and she had told him he was a vampire. Without that knowledge to process, without that information to contextualise his new life, how many more people might he have hurt? How was it possible she had done so little for him, and so much at the very same time? He carefully pulled out the stool opposite her, as though if he moved too quickly she might pounce on him, and hesitantly climbed up onto it. He felt far more awkward sitting down than he had standing up. “Kind of hard to catch somebody’s name when you’re busy telling them to do better.”  

Vic took a sip of her drink, never quite letting her eyes leave the vampire.  He had a lot of nerve, sitting here with an accusatory tone after she’d let him live.  She could have had a hunter there in mere moments, and the world would have been that much safer for it, too.  “What, did you want me to invite you over for tea?”, she asked, her voice biting and sarcastic.  It was a ridiculous thought.  She had done plenty, but it was typical of a vampire to not understand simple humanity and integrity.  She raised her eyebrows, daring him to challenge her.  She suppressed an eye roll as he awkwardly sat down, almost as if he suspected her to attack him.  As much as she would enjoy that, she would never- especially not in such a public venue.  Leave it to the hunters to deal with the likes of him.  “Well, I couldn’t exactly let you continue with that reckless behaviour, could I?” Her voice was nearly full charm at this point, and she was too distracted by alcohol and anger to notice how jarring the constant switch in her tone must have been.  “And here I thought you’d have been appreciative, friend.  Maybe you’re clouding what happened, in your mind.  You did seem distracted that night, after all.”  Vic shot the man a smirk, and then presented her hand for him to shake. “I’m Vic… Are you going to tell me your name?  Or am I going to have to guess?” 

Milo stayed quiet, not having an answer to the woman’s sarcastic, and obviously rhetorical question. As much as he wanted to bite back, he physically couldn’t, the words seemed to die in his throat. “It wasn’t reckless.” He countered finally, annoyed by the implication. “Reckless makes it sound like it was a choice. Somebody turned me against my will and left me to wake up alone.” Glaring at her, the sweet charismatic tone she had adopted only served to make him feel patronised, and small, but it took a surprisingly short amount of time for his demeanour to soften. She was almost right. To a degree he was grateful for the help she had offered him. “I’m not clouding anything. I know what happened.” He kept his voice firm, leaving no room for her to argue, or manipulate him into doubting himself. But his anger was gone. Suppressed, and carefully pushed to the back of his mind.  

“Anybody would be distracted.” He added, pointedly glancing down at her outstretched hand before ignoring it entirely. “My name is Milo.” He swallowed his emotion, knowing if he wasn’t careful he might burn this particular bridge. It clearly wasn’t very strong, but the woman sitting opposite him was a link to the person who had taken his life. She either knew his attacker, or she didn’t, so preserving their connection was important. Right now, given their current dynamic, he doubted she would be willing to divulge the information. Maybe one day that might change. “Look…” He shifted awkwardly in his seat. “I had no fucking idea- about any of it. I was scared, and alone, and feeling so many things I had no way of explaining. You could have done more, obviously. But you didn’t have to stop… I get that. So… do you want to start this again? I don’t be a dick to you, and you don’t be a dick to me?” 

“But it was a choice for me to help you”, Vic bit back, losing her decorum for only a moment before she forced herself to maintain her more relaxed tone.  She didn’t know why she felt so defensive, but it made her anger fiery and flammable in an outward way that she wasn’t used to.  She’d been struggling to hold her anger in a lot more than she liked, recently. 

Her gaze followed his to her hand, pulling it back slowly when he refused to take it.  “Milo”.  Milo, White Male. Under 6 feet tall.  Not too chicken shit to approach someone in a bar. “Not a name you hear often- is it short for something?”  She licked her lips as he continued, hating how much she related to those feelings of isolation and confusion.  She wanted to tell him those feelings didn’t cease to exist just because you happened to catch a sire who wanted to parade you around like a prize instead of leaving you for dead. She wanted to tell him that knowing what kind of monster you were turned into from the start didn’t clear the clouds of self hatred that inched their way into your mind.  She could have done less, too, but she stopped herself from saying as much.   

Milo’s offer of civility was rather unexpected to Vic, and she felt herself sitting up straighter, analyzing his face for any sense of deception.  “While I can’t control your perception of what constitutes a di-... one of those, I would love to start over, Milo.”  What better way to learn more information about him, right?  The quicker she knew, the easier it’d be to get a hunter on his trail.  Morgan’s optimism about vampire’s civility be damned.  

Milo let out a huff of breath, begrudgingly accepting defeat. Honestly, he was so relieved his company wasn’t being overly aggressive, or unpredictable, that his anxiety was rapidly draining away. Leaving him feeling tired, and irritable, but also maybe offering him a new perspective. Without anger clouding his judgement, without having the energy to pay attention to the emotion threatening to overwhelm him, the woman sitting opposite him became… just a woman. Somebody who had done what she could in the moment to help him, who was likely also battling her own demons. Shooting Vic a quizzical look when she began to question him on his name, he couldn’t imagine why the information was important but he shook his head. “Nope… it’s Milo for Milo. No middle name either, I guess my parents were hoping for a boring child.” They definitely didn’t get one, he thought to himself. 

Watching Vic, an unexpected smile tugging at his lips as he realised she was carefully avoiding his choice of word, he was surprised when she accepted the suggestion. Their history was incredibly brief, but complicated, and undeniably tense. Maybe a fresh start would help him to understand her motivations, as well as bring him closer to the identity of his killer. And if not… maybe he would have another vampire in his life. Somebody like him. Somebody who could relate to what he was going through. “You don’t swear?” He asked, his eyes shining. “Or is this some kind of etiquette thing? Are you going to tell me you were an upper class 19th century Lady who still doesn’t put her elbows on the table, or like… ever show her ankles?”  

“Milo for Milo, just like Vic for Vic”, Vic responded, her mouth twitching at the lie. “Nothing wrong with being boring”, she noted, sharing her genuine feelings.  “Sometimes boring is safe- physically and emotionally.”  She suppressed an eye roll at his smirk, sitting back in her chair defensively.  “I swear plenty.  Just not about such… uncouth things.”  But then, at his assumption about her origin, a small smirk grew on her own lips, surprising herself by how amused she was with just how close he was, except for the century.  “Well I’m not an animal”, she responded.  So often her pristine posture had been met with strange eyes, especially as more and more time went by, but she would not stoop herself so low as to be like the ‘youth of today’ who chewed with their mouths open and leaned over tables like dogs. 

Though she never directly confirmed or denied his assumption, she pressed on. “That’s enough about me, though. I’d much rather learn about you… are you still in contact with your family now that things are different?  Were you close to them before?”  What she was really asking was, is there anyone that would miss you, or enact revenge when you eventually went missing? Some sort of pit grew in her stomach suddenly at the thought though, making the walls feel like they were closing in.  Milo hadn’t done anything wrong- he had been turned against his will like she was and then left alone.  Was his trying to learn about her a testament to his humanity?  Her next sentence came out much shakier than the last few had.  “Have you always lived around White Crest?” 

Milo raised his eyebrows at Vic, making it clear he didn’t believe her. But he chose not to pursue the topic, it didn’t exactly feel fair when she was under no obligation to talk to him. The last thing he wanted to do was push her away. “No shit boring is safe.” He agreed offering her a half-hearted shrug. If he had grown up to be the boring son his parents were hoping for, things would have turned out very differently. For him, as well as for them. A laugh escaping him when his company decided to insist she did swear on occasion, it didn’t take away from how amusing he found her hesitation. “Uncouth?” He grinned, unable to help himself. He almost hated the fact that he was beginning to enjoy her company. “A lot of things are uncouth, it doesn’t make them bad.” If her choice of language hadn’t been enough to give her away, her reaction to his teasing made him confident his assumption had been correct. “I didn’t say you were.” He countered, trying not to dwell on the things Dani had said to him implying all vampires were animals. Less than human, abominations. Surely this woman’s dedication to etiquette was proof of just how wrong Dani was.  

His smile faltering suddenly, he pulled himself out of his thoughts only to be hit by questions he really, really didn’t want to answer. A few beats of silence passed before he was able to find his voice, the motivation to respond to such a barrage. “Why?” He demanded, an edge to his tone as he fought the urge to storm away. What right did she have to ask something so personal? Something so painful? Especially when he wasn’t prepared to face the emotion that followed the subject being raised. “I- it doesn’t matter.” He bit out, knowing his words were incredibly vague. In fact, they probably only made it easier for Vic to continue on her chosen path. He needed to say something final, something that closed this particular line of communication. “I didn’t come here to talk about my family.” That had to be enough, right? He needed that to be enough. “Born, raised, and died.” He added, hoping to distract her. “I’m guessing you aren’t from around here?”  

“Some things should just not be spoken about in public”, Vic chided, further explaining her aversion to the word she’d refused to use earlier.  “Not that they’re bad, they’re just… rude”.  It wasn’t the right word to describe it, but it was the only one she could think of, so it was what she settled on.  No, he didn’t say she was an animal, but she still wasn’t sure if the same was true for him.  Varying opinions danced in her mind, and inwardly, all she wanted to do was to scold Morgan.  If the woman hadn’t been so persistent lately, Vic wouldn’t have to question her morals so often now- it was so much easier to get her job done before.   

At the break in his otherwise seemingly calm demeanor, Vic’s eyebrows raised, watching him with equal parts curiosity and expectancy.  This sharp edge- this is what she expected from vampires.  As brief as his flash of anger was, it was entirely interesting, and something she wanted to explore even more. In the very least, she now knew he had ties here- a whole lifetime of them.  His words held an air of finality that she couldn’t press on if she wanted to get on his good side.  Instead, she let the beats of silence continue between them, revelling in the discomfort they brought as she looked over him, judging.  Despite her better judgement, she couldn’t resist commenting.  “I’ve never met someone who tries to hide things that don’t matter”, she said matter of factly, her mouth growing into a small, playful grin.   She was both amused and intrigued, but she’d leave it there, at least for now.  He seemed intent on turning the conversation back to her, something that made her considerably uncomfortable when she was chatting with other vampires. “What gave it away?” she wondered.  Not even 400 some odd years of traversing around the world could erase her accent completely, although most people tended to assume she was British, not Swedish.  “I’ve lived in White Crest for about ten years, albeit as somewhat of a recluse”, she said honestly, possibly explaining why they had never met in such a small town.   

“Well, that’s no fun.” Milo pouted, trying to imagine censoring himself, especially when he had been drinking. He couldn’t see very much to gain, but he also hadn’t lived Vic’s experiences. If it really was an important part of her past then of course she was going to hold onto that. It wasn’t his place to tell her she shouldn’t. “Okay, okay,” he raised his hands in surrender, realising the anxiety and fear that had plagued him were actually beginning to fade away. “I’ll stop being rude.” He half teased, despite intending to make good on his promise. Settling into the silence as his company seemed to observe him from where she was sitting, he shifted in his seat, uncomfortable, but no longer worried. She didn’t seem like a threat, not right in this moment, at least. And he couldn’t help but wonder whether she hadn’t helped him for personal reasons, valid reasons she couldn’t bring herself to explain. For a long time he had seen her as callous, and cold. Somebody who had given him the bare minimum without any sign of empathy or consideration. Had he been wrong?  

A frown creasing his brow, his body tensed at her comment, and he tried to remind himself he wasn’t in danger. She was getting to know him, and she was being smart about it. That was all. He wasn’t entirely sure what she was trying to imply, but he felt exposed, and vulnerable under her statement. He didn’t know how to combat the way she danced around his own statement. The one that was supposed to signal the end of the discussion. “I’m not hiding anything.” He said, his voice firm as he tried not to look as small as he felt. “Do you think I’m hiding something?” If he used her own questions against her, feigned a certain level of confidence, then maybe she would stop asking them. A smile tugging at his lips as she spoke again, he was grateful for the chance to move on. “I’ve never heard an accent like yours.” He admitted. He couldn’t place it even if he wanted to, and it made him curious to know where she had been born. Where she had been raised. “You’ve been here for ten years?” He asked, searching her expression, genuinely curious. “Why stay for so long?” 

Vic, feeling done with this particular conversation, took a swig of her drink, hoping it signified the end of it.  Thankfully, he seemed to concede, but she let out a small huff of annoyance despite herself.  The silence that surrounded them now made her uncomfortable.  It was too much of an opportunity for her mind to continue to swell with anxiety and guilt, and she shifted in her seat.  “Do you come here often?”, she asked, hoping to break the silence. 

Again, Milo’s response and body language sparked interest, and she tilted her head at his inquiry.  “I think you’re working very hard to make me think you’re not hiding something”, she said, an amused smirk still playing comfortably on her lips. She was willing to drop this, at least for now, but she was incredibly intrigued at whatever Milo was keeping locked away.  “Swedish”, she admitted honestly.  For some reason, she didn’t have as much anxiety telling him as she thought she would.  Either he was a monster like she thought and he’d die soon anyway, or he was harmless like Morgan implied, and her birthplace would serve no use to him.  “But that was a long time ago.”    If she were to answer his next question honestly, she would tell him that the intel had been so good here that she never had to leave. “Why leave so soon?”, she asked to counter him.  “This life is a long one.  Especially with our...affliction.  Ten years is nothing, not in the scheme of things.” 

Milo laughed, surprised by the question after a few beats of silence passed between them. It wasn’t a laugh reserved for his friends, but it was comfortable, and it came easy to him. “I go everywhere often.” He admitted. “I can’t remember the last time I ended the night sober.” Was that true? He realised the moment the words left his mouth that he was being entirely honest. For a brief moment he saw himself from the outside, the friend everybody watched, and worried about, but it didn’t take long to brush away his concern. He was fine. It would only be a problem if he felt like he couldn’t end the night sober, right? And at this moment in time not being sober was a choice. He was definitely choosing this life. His expression hardening as Vic tilted her head, everything about the way she was looking at him felt smug. She was either reading him like an open book, or she wanted him to believe she was capable of doing so. He couldn’t figure out which.  

“Forgive me for being wary of strangers, this town kind of taught me that when it tore out my fucking throat.” He muttered. He didn’t enjoy the idea of her prying, and trying to gain information on him that he just wasn’t willing to give. Especially when he still didn’t know her. “You don’t consider yourself Swedish anymore?” He asked, distracted by her answer to his question. Did you grow out of a nationality? If you spent enough time in one country did that really mean you were willing to let another country go? “I…” He trailed off, trying to imagine ten years in the context of a person who had hundreds of years at their disposal. He was one of those people, but at the age of twenty two it was so difficult to shift his perspective. He supposed that would happen as time passed, as the people around him began to age, and die. He swallowed his emotion, annoyed for allowing his thoughts to wander. One of the only things he pointedly avoided thinking about was his new, and elongated lifespan. It was too overwhelming. Too terrifying to truly dissect. “I guess I hadn’t thought of it like that…” He admitted. “Still… it isn’t the most exciting place. Sometimes it feels like the only thing to do here is run from supernatural creatures.”  

Vic hadn’t been ending many of her nights sober lately either.  She felt like a child, in a way.  Like the teenagers she read about in books who were too wrapped up in their feelings and hormones to care about what the rest of the world thought of them.  It was easy to understand where Milo was coming from with wanting to keep hidden.  She herself had only just started to let herself come out of the woodwork by allowing a genuine connection to be formed with Morgan, and it was pretty clearly a mistake by how that was turning out.  The worst parts of her thought that all that friendship brought were moral questions and heartache.  And it wasn’t often that the best parts of her shone through.  “I didn’t say that.  Just that I lived there a long time ago. I doubt I’d recognize the town I’m from if I were to venture back. Can you consider yourself a part of a place you no longer have any connection to?”  She never intended to be genuine with Milo, but something about his gratitude and the way she kept finding herself relating to him was starting to break her down.  She thought, momentarily, that this is the exact effect she always hoped to have on the people she was manipulating.  It was jarring.  For as much as she was attempting to appear equal parts charming and intimidating, there wasn’t much left inside besides vulnerability and a wish to connect to anyone on a humanistic level.  It must have been desperation, she assured herself, that this feeling was rearing its ugly head with the type of person who mauled strangers on the side of the road.  His comment made her smirk, though, and effectively shook her out of her thoughts.  “Do you not find running from supernatural creatures exciting, Milo?” 

“You implied.” Milo insisted. He tried to imagine White Crest in a few hundred years, what it might look like if he ever returned to it. Or maybe he would never leave, the idea was both comforting, and genuinely terrifying. Did he really want a permanent connection to the town that had taken his life? Then again, did he really want to navigate a world he wasn’t familiar with? White Crest could regrettably be a comfort. He wasn’t ready to let it go. “I don’t know…” He admitted in response to Vic’s question, offering her a shrug. “Maybe? I guess it depends on you…” It wasn’t the most decisive of answers, but if there was one thing he had learned through Harsh, Eilidh, and James, it was that every single person had an entirely different perspective. Different views on death, and murder, and the supernatural world, there really was no black and white. It was never going to be that simple.  

Shooting Vic a look of disbelief when she decided to smirk at the mention of White Crest��s many dangers, it was all he could do not to scoff. How could anybody possibly find it exciting? He couldn’t seem to walk home anymore without running into a werewolf, or crossing paths with the occasional mime. “No.” He deadpanned. “Obviously not.” When he had been human, indulging in alcohol, and substances came with very clear, and predetermined risks. He knew what might happen, understood the danger he was flirting with. Now that he saw White Crest for what it was, that level of inebriation came with a myriad of risks he couldn’t possibly be aware of. And how did you prepare for that? How were you supposed to feel comfortable with that? Every single time he left the house he was rolling the dice. And even though he was getting used to the feeling, it didn’t mean he enjoyed any part of it. “Do you?” 

Vic’s eyebrows raised once more, noting, with some unexpected pride, Milo’s raise in confidence from when they first started talking.  “You presumed implication”, she responded, surprised by how much she was growing to enjoy the back and forth of their conversation.  While he once seemed like an overzealous coward, something about his demeanor was growing on her, disturbingly so. Where at first she was desperate to sic a hunter on him, there was now a hesitation in the way her fingers danced through her contacts during the moments when her attention landed on her phone.  She told herself she should wait on it- study him more to really see if he was dangerous.  That was the only reason she was sparing him, right?   “I think one day you’ll see that too many years away from a place, even one you once called home, can make it feel cold and strange.  Home becomes a strange concept, in that way.  Some people claim home is with the ones you love or with the ones that love you, but what if there is no one that fills that quota?”  Though she held eye contact with Milo, her eyes had gotten distant for a moment, lost in the strangeness that the world had become for her.  It took a table near them being cleaned up by the barback to shake her out of her thoughts, and only then did her eyes seem to snap back to Milo’s. 

“Have you always known about the dangers here?”, she wondered.  It was an interesting phenomenon, even back when she was a child, that people could so easily deny the existence of creatures who lived among them.  Was it easier for them than facing the truth of the matter?  “I find it inconvenient, if I’m being totally honest.  On a good day, it’s something to pass the time.  On a bad one, it’s a time waster.  It’s incredibly frustrating to miss an appointment because a sentient tree decided to park itself on main street.”  She rolled her eyes at the thought, still relishing the job she lost because of the incident.  Another table was being cleaned beside them, and she let out a breath, noticing that they were just about the only two left in the bar.  “It seems we’ve cleaned the place out, Milo.”  She moved around the grains of salt on the table in front of them, effectively ruining her counting for good.

Narrowing his eyes, Milo couldn’t bring himself to argue. If he denied what Vic was saying, or tried to counter it, this particular disagreement might never end. There was no wrong answer because both of them were technically right. She had implied, but he had also presumed. “Home is where the heart is.” He surprised himself by echoing something he had heard his mother say many times over. He had never once in his life stopped to consider the meaning behind her words. Feeling a strange chill wash over him, he didn’t want to imagine White Crest without the people he loved in it. Without his parents, without his friends… without Rio. “I-” He broke off, unable to insist he would make new friends, and find new loved ones. That didn’t feel true, and the idea of replacing the people he cared about almost physically hurt him. “Anywhere can be home.” He said finally, opting to be vague, to avoid addressing what Vic was making very clear. One day he would be alone. One day he wouldn’t have anybody left. Watching Vic, observing the expression on her face that was remarkably open, all things considered, he felt a spark of sympathy accompany his fear. He could worry about it until it happened, but maybe for Vic she was already there. Who had she lost? Who did she miss?  

A bitter smile tugging at his lips, he shook his head at her question, grateful for the change in subject. “I like to think if I had then I wouldn’t be sitting here.” He admitted. “I guess weird stuff used to happen, now that I’m more aware of it there’s no fucking way it wasn’t happening when I was human. I was just… oblivious, I guess. When you aren’t looking for things, sometimes you just don’t see them.” It made for some pretty decent protection, until it didn’t. Until it got him killed. A laugh escaping him, he was shocked to realise they were actually in agreement. “Yeah, no shit, it’s inconvenient.” He couldn’t seem to leave the house without running into a supernatural creature. Sometimes they needed help, sometimes they were just… there, and sometimes they wanted to kill him. There was no way to predict how an interaction might end, and how were you supposed to plan around that? Sitting up a little straighter, turning to scan the rest of the bar, Vic was right, and the quiet seemed to suddenly press in on him. He had been so lost in thought, so focused on their conversation, that he really hadn’t noticed the absence of a crowd. A familiar sense of anxiety creeping up on him now that they were alone together, he pushed himself off of his stool. Staring at the grains of salt as Vic ran her fingers through them, now that he was standing he hurried to awkwardly brush himself down. “It seems we have…” He tried to sound casual, like he wasn’t nervous to be alone in her company, but no doubt she would realise what was happening. “I- I should probably go.”  

Vic didn’t easily back down from an argument.  She enjoyed arguing, in a way.  Perhaps because it provided some break up to an otherwise monotonous social life, or maybe it was just that having control over a situation with another person felt deliciously powerful.  It was only slightly disappointing that Milo eventually relented.  It was interesting to watch him process what she’d been forced to centuries ago- that life being ripped from you was only really a portion of the tragedies that came with being a blood sucker.  “Anywhere can be hell”, she countered, because it was important that he knew. 

“Fair enough” she responded, a small smirk growing to rest on her lips.  “I think most people are wilfully ignorant- yourself included, apparently.  It’s easier for them to ignore the truth because the alternative is too terrifying for most people to face.”  Still, it wasn’t her job to warn the average human about the dangers out there- just to protect them from the blood suckers when she could.  She had gone through a stint, early on after she’d killed her sire, where she tried desperately to warn humans of all the dangers they were missing- the ones that sat right in front of them, ready to attack.  It didn’t end well, and so she stopped trying rather abruptly.  She stayed in her chair, calm and cool as Milo anxiously stood up, fiddling side to side like a nervous teenager.  “You should”, she agreed, resting her chin on her hand.  “Stay out of trouble, Milo.” 

As she watched him scurry out of the bar, she genuinely hoped he would.  Because it became clear rather quickly that Morgan was right: getting to know people before turning them in definitely made sending them to their death a lot harder.

[super-hero-girls-netflix]

Jess and Pam fluff/angst? Btw love ur blog bro. This show deserves more love and seeing ur post makes me happy. 👁👄👁💖💖👌

Note: I'm glad my posts makes you happy.

The Art of Avoidance and the Cost, Confrontation.

Prompt: Jess/Pam fluff/angst. Jess just wanted Pam to wish her a happy birthday. Pam just wanted Jess to leave her alone. Of course, it's not that simple.

*Jess*

"Happy Birthday!"

Jess knew that she didn't have the most... consistent relationship with Pamela Isley. There were times when she was sure that Pam felt something not negative towards her. Especially after a successful protest when Pam would scrunch her lips in an effort to tamper her smile. Or when Jess said something particularly amusing and Pam would quirk her lips as she passed by.

"Maybe she didn't hear us? ...Happy Birthday!'

But of course those times paled to all the other times Pamela clearly stated that she hated Jessica Cruz's butt. Forgo all the times Pamela would ignore her texts or greetings- there were times when Pamela would state at her with complete and utter hatred usually when she was doing mundane stuff like eating her lunch (a salad, of course) or talking to one of her friends.

"Err, Babs- Jess looks a little...mad? Sad? Smad?"

"Smad isn't a word, Hal."

"No one asked you, Karen!"

"Ugh, I hate when you say my name like that-"

So truly, Jess shouldn't have expected Pam to acknowledge her birthday. She really shouldn't have. It was a hope that would surely lead to dissapointment. But it still hit harder than expected when the morning passed without Pam even casting her a side eye.

All of her friends were loud..! Obviously if Pam didn't know it was her birthday from the beginning she should by now-

"Jessica! Are you alright?"

Jess snapped to attention, finding Diana and her friends looking at her curiously from where they sat at the lunch table. Barry, Garth and Hal (the only boys who stuck around after congratulating her) where standing, also staring at her.

They all shifted their concerned gazes from her to her salad- which she speared so fiercely it tore clean through.

Pushing her lunch away, she said, "I'm sorry, what?"

"Are you alright?" Diana repeated deliberately.

Bobbing her head eagerly, she said, "Yes! I'm great!"

"You just stabbed your salad," noted Kara dryly. "Did it make you angry?"

Zee elbowed her but didn't say anything- also curious to hear Jess explain herself.

"I was... thinking."

Silence stretched across the table, not that Jess paid it much mind. She was back to furtively scanning the cafeteria for the petite jerk who refused to acknowledge-

Ah, there she was.

Pam Isley.

When someone walked into a room there is always someone who looks up to see who. A handful of someone's. But as that handful checked and quickly dismissed Pam from their ignorant minds...Jess kept staring.

Because... how could you not?

She was absolutely breathtaking. Her full pouted lips, soft seemingly pink hair, long full eyelashes covering the most amazing green orbs.

But more than that- Pam made the room complete.

And almost as if Jess' stare was a physical tangible thing- Pam's eyes immediately met hers.

.

.

.

*Pam*

Jess wasn't very subtle.

Pam knew that Jess had been eyeing her all day. Pam knew that Jess was expecting something of her today.

But honestly Jess was always expectant of Pam so really it was easy to deflect. Not. Never could anyone deny Jessica Cruz.

So, Pam decided, that she would greet Jess and get it over with-

"Jess, let's go to Sweet Justice after school to celebrate!"

Pam narrowed her gaze as Jess broke their eye contact to answer Barbara. Hareleen's...friend? Hareleen's important something.

Celebrate what?

"O-oh, sure. I'd like that."

Pam took a step closer. What were they going to celebrate?

"God, you're so old now." The dumb jock (Harry, was it?) teased, tugging at her hair.

Something stuttered in Pam's chest.

A realization.

God, you're so old now.

It was Jess birth-

"You only turn 18 once!"

So...Jess beaming at her in the hallway, staring right at Pam... waiting for Pam. It was because she wanted Pam go wish her a happy birthday?

They weren't even friends! We're they friends? They were something. Pam couldn't deny that there was something intoxicating about Jess' company. That when Jess ranted passionately it was engaging and cute. That when Jess looked down at her, her hair twirled around her finger-

What was she thinking about again?

Pam brought Phil closer to her face, asking the plant an important question. "Phil, do I...like Jess?"

If Phil had eyes he'd be rolling them if his exasperated 'No shit, Sherlock' was any indicator.

No....shit.

.

.

.

*Jess*

It had gotten worse. Pam was no longer not noticing Jess- she was avoiding her. Ever since her birthday, Pam avoided Jess like the plague.

It was taking a toll on Jess. She couldn't sleep, her anxiety was sky rocketing and she had been craving something... greasy.

At first, when Pam first dodged her, Jess was willing to wait her out. The petite girl might not be in the mood. But eventually one encounter missed became two. And then three and four and five. And Jess was no longer patient.

She was pissed. Really, very pissed.

So pissed that the books were liable to catch on fire because of her stormy temper. She quietly fumed, hiding behind a library shelf waiting for when she could finally secure and corner Pam.

(Pam had taken to walking through the library to avoid Jess instead of the populated hallways.)

What was up with Pam? Usually the girl would at least humor Jess for a bit if only to get her off her back. Was she sick? She did look awfully flushed everytime Jess nearly cornered her! God, this was infuriating.

She...just needed to know if Pam was OK.

T-then if Pam was still set on keeping Jes from her life... she'll back off. She can take a hint...she can. And...- If Pam hated her so much she shouldn't make her uncomfortable anymore.

Only if. Only if there wasn't a good reason for her avoidance.

There probably was!

But still...

Her body did it before her mind could commit itself to the act. Her arms reached out, pulled the girl into the aisle, turning them both, and effectively caging Pam. Pam had her back against the wall and was blocked a quick escape by both of Jess arm's.

A triumphant smile breaks across her face.

She did it!

.

.

.

*Pam*

For a second all she could focus on was the beatific smile Jess wore. Then she saw Jess' smile soften and her eyes focus.

Then she felt Jess' breath all over her forehead and- oh my ivy. She was too close.

Her face went hot.

"What the hell," she hissed, turning her head so Jess couldn't see how quickly she was going pink.

"I wouldn't have done this if you had just- are you ok? Your ears are red, and" Jess spread her fingers on Pam's cheek, "your face is hot."

Was breathing always this hard? Holy-

"I-I'm fine. Just move, you're way too close."

As if just realizing it Jess startled and moved back, but kept her arms braced on both sides of Pam's head. (How was it that Jess didn't notice when that was all that Pam could think about?)

(Feeling this way and knowing that Jess didn't even think of the possibility that Pam felt the way she did pissed her off.)

"What do you want?"

Jess blinked, hurt flashing in those hazel eyes before her gaze narrowed, "I want to talk to you. You've been avoiding me."

"No, I haven't."

Jess stared at her for a second, stunned by her blatant lie. "...yes. Yes, you have Pam. And I want to know why."

She was still too close.

"I've just been," madly in love with you, "...busy."

"That's BS and you know it!" Jess takes her arms back and hugs herself. "Just tell me if I did something wrong. Are you mad at me? What did I do? I don't like it when you're avoiding me like this. You're a very good friend to me-."

Friend, huh.

Friend.

Friend.

Yeah, well...do friends do this-

And without further thought, without permission, without even knowing what she was doing...Pam Isley, a girl who has never as much as held someone's hand in a romantic way, kissed Jessica Cruz.

.

.

.

*Jess*

There is a blissful stage of confusion. Before everything makes sense, no- before that. Before anything exists besides that one emotion.

That emotion, for Jess, was peace.

Before she realized what she was doing and who she was doing it with. Before she can tear back and ask Pam what she was doing even though it was fairly obvious but at least why- Pam pulled back first.

"W-what?"

"I'm not mad," there was an angry insane look in Pam's eyes. "I just don't think I can be friends with you anymore."

Jess, cheeks still hot, was indignant. "And why not?!"

Pam ducked away from Jess and began backing away, "I think it would make me very unhappy."

And Jess finally realized why.

Pam liked her.

Pam liked liked her.

Pam who loved the Earth.

Pam with those green eyes.

Pam. Pam.

Pamela.

Pam turned to face her, eyebrow quirked.

Did she say that out loud.

"What now?" Her.... Pam's lips were trembling in an effort to remain still.

Jess wanted to still those lips with her teeth.

Heat burned the inside of her face.

Oh wow.

Pam started to turn to walk away but Jess latched onto her wrist. She had such a thin wrist. She really needed to eat better-

"Say what you need to say so I can leave."

"You like me then?"

"Anything but that."

"What kind of person leaves after dropping a bomb like that on someone?!" Indignation made her chest swell and she stepped closer to Pam, using her grip Pam's wrist to pull them closer. "You should at least give them a second so they can think of how to react to that-"

Pam looked at her, stunned. Then, annoyed she rolled her gorgeous eyes and said, "Can you just shut up-"

"Make. Me."

Jess was panting with emotion and Pam's eyes were wide and her gaze flickered from Jess' eyes to her grip on the wrist and to Jess' lips.

Jess bit her lip.

Pam stared at her mouth.

They just stood there. Jess swallowed. "B-back to the topic.." What were they talking about again? "Uhm, right..! Well, it's unfair of you-"

"You already said that," a resigned smirk colored Pam's face.

"R-right. Well..."

"I'm not asking you to return my feelings-."

"You're not giving me much of a choice!"

A hand thumped on the bookshelf and they startled guiltily apart and whirled around to see who it was interrupting them.

"Shhh!" The librarian hissed, eyes narrowed before stalking off to lecture some poor kid.

Pam was hugging herself, hands twisting the material of her sweater. "What do you mean I'm not giving you a choice?"

.

.

.

*Pam*

"Well, you are so insistent that I won't return your feelings..." Jess looked at her, unimpressed. "It kind of feels like I'm not allowed to."

"You are."

It's embarrassing how desperate she sounds. But Jess must dig desperation since she grinned, pulled Pam closer. Hands cupping her cheeks, one pausing to brush her pink hair behind Pam's red ear.

Oh... Jess was teasing her.

That wouldn't do.

So then with just as much purpose as before, Pam pulled Jess down and their lips met again.

This was such a mess. But with Jess so close and soft and pliant under her hands. It's okay. Messy was ok. Right now. In that moment, Messy was perfect.

[cozy-the-overlord]

Dances and Daggers

Summary:   The Summer Festival is upon Asgard, as is the tradition of the dagger ceremony, where each unmarried gentleman chooses a lady to bestow with the honor of carrying his dagger for the night. As Prince Thor’s betrothed, Teki’s only goal is to accept his dagger with grace and hope that her violent stepfather doesn’t find fault with her in the process. But Prince Thor is unpredictable, and when he ignores his engagement on a whim Teki finds herself in a desperate situation. Luckily, Thor isn’t the only prince in Asgard…

Pairing: Loki x Original Female Character

Chapter 5: The Aftermath

Previous Chapter  |  Next Chapter

Word Count: 1,752

Chapter Summary:  After her... outing at the lake with the young prince, Teki is just trying to lay low. 

A/N: This week’s chapter is pretty short... I thought about combining it with next week’s, but I really liked the note this ended on, so I decided against it. Hope you don’t mind!

Thanks for reading! :)

TW: mentions of child abuse, threats of violence

Tags: @lucywrites02 @gaitwae

Read it on Ao3!

Teki stiffly swept her hands across the keys. When she woke up to find that the Queen had sent a messenger asking her if she would like to stop by to play the piano for a bit this morning, she told herself it was a good thing. She loved playing piano—surely that would make her feel better.

It didn’t.

Her back ached as she balanced on the bench, her shoulders aflame every time she moved her arms too much. The melody, usually so sweet and soothing, rattled in her skull and beat her brain. Frigga had given her a book of sheet music, but the notes swam before her eyes. Several times, she hit the wrong key, and all she could do was cringe.

Her stepfather hadn’t been pleased with her little game of hide and seek the night of Loki’s Nameday Feast. Neither had he bought her explanation that she had been in the bathroom the entire time because she hadn’t been feeling well.

It could’ve been worse. He didn’t know what she had been up to, or who she had been up to it with. Her ruined dress reappeared in her closet with the rest of the clean laundry, washed and good as new. As far as Osvald was concerned, Teki had just run off and hid somewhere like the brat she was. She couldn’t imagine what he would have done had he known she had been wandering around the place grounds in a soaking dress with Loki.

Her fingers hit the wrong key again, and Teki flinched. This was humiliating.

“Tekla.” The Queen interrupted, moving from the couch to sit at the bench with her. Teki stopped, focusing only on her folded hands in her lap.

Frigga frowned. “Is everything all right, dear?” she inquired. “You don’t seem to be yourself today.”

“I’m fine, Your Majesty. Just a bit tired.” She could feel the sweat lining her brow. It was far too hot to be wearing high collared, long sleeved dresses, but it was the only way to hide all the bruises.

The concern in the Queen’s voice was apparent. “Are you certain?”

Teki nodded, still keeping her eyes in her lap. She felt if she met Frigga’s concerned gaze, she’d be liable to start crying, and that would be even worse than playing the wrong notes on the piano.

She didn’t seem convinced, but nodded regardless. “Well then, perhaps it would be best if you went to go lie down and get some rest,” she said, reaching out to rub Teki’s shoulder consolingly. It took every ounce of willpower for Teki not to wince. “You don’t look well—I’d hate for you to be coming down with something.”

Teki nodded some more as she stood up. She wanted to tell her that it was all right, she wasn’t getting sick, she didn’t have to worry, but she didn’t trust her voice.

She was halfway down the hall when a familiar voice called her name.

“Teki!” Teki turned to see Prince Loki rushing towards her across the corridor, raven hair tousled. He reached her panting, his emerald eyes overflowing with a wild kind of worry. “Are you all right? You haven’t been at dinner.”

She dropped her gaze to the floor again. “Yes, I’m fine, my prince.” Her tone was high, artificially cheerful. “I’ve just been a bit tired.”

It wasn’t that she was mad at Loki. The little prank in the lake had been just that—a prank. He hadn’t meant it to be mean or anything, and she believed that he was genuinely apologetic, but… a lot of things went wrong when he pretended to fall off the dock.

He was reaching out towards her, his hand stopping just shy of hers. “Can—can I do anything to help?” he asked.

“It’s fine, my prince,” she repeated. “I’m just going back to my rooms.”

“I could walk you back—”

“No, that won’t be necessary” Teki interjected. Her voice came out sharper than she intended. She hated the way he flinched. “Sorry,” she dropped to a whisper. “I’m just—it’s—”

“No, you don’t have to explain. I understand.” He bowed softly. “Can I expect to see you at dinner tonight?”

“I’m not sure. Probably.” She didn’t particularly want to go, but there was no way her mother would let her skip a third night in a row.

Loki’s expression was pained. For a moment, he looked like he was going to say something else, but then he shook his head. “I’m sorry, Teki.”

“It’s alright,” she murmured. She turned to make her way down the hall, still feeling his gaze on her back.

…

Everything hurt.

Teki groaned as she tried to roll over in bed, searching for a position that didn’t press against the bruises on her shoulders and down her back. She wished her mother would take her to the healers. But her mother was concerned that they were spending far too much time down at the healing ward—she never said so, but Teki could tell that she was worried they’d start looking into their family.

“If it’s still hurting a lot by the end of the week, I’ll take you,” she had promised.

Teki wasn’t sure if she was going to make it to the end of the week.

Her shoulder twitched when she moved the wrong way, and Teki hissed in pain. She wanted her mother’s painkiller drink. Her mother had made for her earlier, before they went to dinner, but Teki hadn’t drank the whole thing—she was too afraid of passing out in front of the royal family. She was fairly certain her mother had saved the rest of it, in liquor cabinet downstairs…

For a while, she laid on her side, trying to ignore the throbbing at the base of her neck. Don’t think about it. If she woke Osvald up rustling through a cabinet she wasn’t allowed access to, she’d be even worse off than she was now. It wasn’t worth the risk. But as the night dragged on in an agonizing crawl, no relief in sight, Teki found her resolve breaking.

She could be quiet.

Her heart was thudding as she peaked out through her cracked bedroom door. The hall was silent. Holding her breath, Teki crept out towards the stairs. History had taught her that the seventh step creaked if you placed your weight on the middle, so she was careful to hug the wall as she went down. She barely dared to breathe until she reached the bottom of the staircase and slipped into the sitting room.

The curtains on the other side were just barely cracked open, the slightest beam of moonlight cutting through the darkness and contorting the shadows of furniture and belongings in an ethereal glow. The cabinet loomed in the corner, glassy eyes watching her as she slunk past the table. Teki shuddered.

The doors were locked. That was all right—Teki knew her mother kept the key hidden away at the top of the cabinet. She wasn’t tall enough to reach it on her own, though, so she pulled one of the chairs away from the table to stand on. Her back screamed in pain, but she was careful to carry it high enough so that the legs wouldn’t drag on the floor. She groped blindly across the dusty shelf until her fingers landed on the little metal key.

Teki glanced over her shoulder as she stepped down from the chair. The apartment was still. Even so, she could feel her pulse pounding in her ears as she fumbled with the lock. Please don’t make any noise. It clicked open without issue.

The metallic glint of liquor bottles greeted her. Teki squinted through the dark. There should be a mug somewhere, but the pale moonlight revealed nothing.  Her heart sank. Her mother did keep the extra, didn’t she? She could’ve sworn she had. If she had done all this sneaking around for nothing…

Climbing back on to the chair, Teki ran her fingers down each shelf in a desperate search for the missing mug. There was a sinking feeling in her stomach, but she forced herself to ignore it. Maybe it had gotten pushed behind the bottles. She reached as a far as she could, but she found only glass.

Then her nails jammed against something metallic.

Teki cried out before she could stop herself. No! She clapped a hand over her mouth, anxiously eying the stairs. Only when several minutes had passed and her stepfather didn’t come pounding into the room did she exhale and turn back to the cabinet. Nursing her hand, she tried to make out what it was she had hit.

There seemed to be a small metal box hidden behind the liquor bottles. Teki frowned. What in the Norns? The meager light from the curtains wasn’t nearly enough to take a proper look. Tentatively, she slid the box from its resting place.

It was about the size of a large book, and heavy too—she could feel the contents sliding around inside as she turned it in her hands. There was a tiny silver lock embedded on the side. Her hands itched—the layer of grime engulfing the box screamed of neglect. How long had this thing been hidden away in here? Why had it been hidden away in the first place? Teki was confused.

She held the box to the light, hoping to get a better look. There seemed to something engraved on the top, perhaps a name of some sort, but the dust was so bad she couldn’t tell what it was. Probably “Áslaug,” or perhaps her grandfather’s name, “Ásvaldr.” Her mother still had many engraved pieces that had belonged to her grandfather. But then again, Teki wasn’t quite certain. The first letter didn’t look much like an “Á.” She rubbed at it with the skirt of her nightdress, her pain nearly forgotten in her curiosity. What could this be? What would her mother keep hidden from the rest of the family?

After a moment, she had cleaned it up enough to make out the lettering. She wasn’t sure what it was she was expecting to find, but there was a thrum in her hands as she held it to the light again. It took only a moment for her to recognize the name. She nearly dropped the whole thing on the wooden floor.

Steinn

This box belonged to Teki’s father.