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evidence-based-activism · 8 months ago

Note

you’re still ignoring WHY the rates for men are so high, because women get underreported and don’t get taken seriously at all when they commit crimes. Women abuse children more and initiate 70% of domestic violence, yet men are still portrayed as the villains. You should read the comments or some of the reblogs under that post. Full of people who have been abused by women and have been safer when around only men,and never been taken seriously. You say it’s a strawman fallacy but no it’s not, radfems say this shit all the timesee. and are very gender essentialist themselves. Maybe you’re not saying it but a lot of popular radfems are, to mostly agreement from other radfems,so you can’t really blame people for seeing that and understanding it to be a popular TERF take.

Hi -

So, I'm going to answer this ask and the one that includes the bustle link that I expect was also sent by you? However, I'm not going to continue putting in this degree of effort (i.e., reading and researching the information you send) unless you start matching that effort. It will be difficult for you to do so in an ask (although I suppose you could try), so I suggest you reblog this post to further discuss.

So, on to the response:

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No, there is not a significant reporting gap (at least, not one caused by sex).

You said "women get underreported and don’t get taken seriously at all when they commit crimes", but there is no evidence that is the case. Let's take the crime data from two sources: the criminal victimization survey by the BJS [1] and the FBI crime data explorer [2]. These two sources are helpful for this discussion because the BJS attempts to determine total offenses including those not reported, while the FBI only looks at reported offenses.

For 2022 (rounding numbers) and looking at violent offenses (excluding homicide as the BJS report is interview based):

Male violent crime: 4,750,000 estimated by the BJS and 1,990,000 reported by the FBI for an overall 42% reporting rate

Female violent crime: 1,220,000 estimated by the BJS and 777,000 reported by the FBI for an overall 64% reporting rate

These numbers would suggest that more female offenders than male offenders are reported (i.e., a greater percent of female offenders, even though in absolute terms there are far fewer female offenders). However, there are some caveats to this data that makes me reluctant to state this conclusion:

The crime definitions between the BJS and FBI differ slightly. For example, I had to search through the "other crimes" for the FBI to find simple assault and several additional sexual assault categories to try and match the overall BJS "violent crime" statistic.

These stats are incident based not offender based. So, for example, if John commits 10 aggravated assaults and 5 of his victims report the assault to the police, 5 incidents are recorded in the system. Therefore, recidivism may or may not play a role in reporting rates.

I calculated the rate using the offender stats for individual offenders and "both male and female offender". Proportionally speaking a greater percent of female offenders are in the "both" category (23% vs 6%). Other statistics suggest more severe crimes are more likely to be reported to the police (e.g., 50% of aggravated assault is reported vs 37% of simple assault). If we make the assumption that violent crimes involving multiple offenders are more likely to be severe, then this could partially explain the disparity.

However, this point is essentially irrelevant, as the statistics previously discussed in the CDC report don't rely on reported crimes, they specifically interview representative samples in order to determine prevalence rates. (The difference between this data (and data in the BJS report) and the number of reported cases is how we know these crimes are under-reported.)

Just to drive the point home: the BJS study, which again, looks at both reported and unreported crime indicates:

Men take part in 84% of violent crimes and the only offender(s) in 79% of violent crimes (the stats for women are 21% and 17% respectively)

The offender-to-population ratio is 1.6 for men and 0.3 for women. That means the share of men in the "offender population" is 60% more than the share of men in the US population. The share of women offenders is 70% less than their share of the US population.

And before you send me another debunked myth: no men are not victimized more: the victim-to-offender population ratio for all violent crimes is 1.0 for both men and women.

I've also talked about how men don't under-report abuse (at least, not anymore than women do) in the past, so see this post for a couple more sources.

There's also no evidence that crimes committed by women get taken less seriously. However, it is true that when women do commit crimes, they tend to be less severe than the crimes committed by men (i.e., women commit more simple assault and aggravated assault). Given this, women's crimes may be taken "less seriously", but that's because the crimes are less serious, going by the accepted definitions of the crime. (And this is not my personal opinion! There is an actual "crime hierarchy" used in the American justice system that ranks crimes by degree of severity.)

In terms of legal consequences, women and men receive similar sentence lengths with one major caveat [3]. Caretakers of children, especially, young children, routinely received shorter sentences. Since women are more likely to be the primary caretaker of children, they'd be more likely to see this sentence reduction. However, this gap has been closing since the introduction of mandatory minimum sentencing. Some research suggests women may receive harsher sentences than men for "traditionally male crimes" [4].

Either way, crimes by women are clearly taken at least as "seriously" as crimes by men.

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No women do not abuse children more.

You said "Women abuse children more", but this is an oft-repeated statement from terribly misinterpreted data.

The misconception comes from data from the child maltreatment report from the HHS [5]. This report looks at reports of child abuse and neglect. In it they found that 52% of victims had a female perpetrator and 47% had a male perpetrator. At first glance, this looks like women abuse more children (hence the wide-spread misinterpretation), however this neglects to take several things into consideration.

First, since about 51% of the population is female, even if we considered nothing else, these values would suggest parity in maltreatment (abuse + neglect) rates. Of course, even this interpretation is deeply flawed, but I thought it merited pointing out.

Second, and perhaps most important, these stats are not looking at incidence or even prevalence rates. This isn't a rate at all. For example, you may be tempted to interpret these as "52% of children in a women's care are abused" or "52% of women abuse children". These are, and I must stress this, completely incorrect interpretations. These stats say only that of child maltreatment (abuse+neglect) victims identified by CPS, 52% of them were maltreated by a women.

Next, these stats fail to take into account the fact that many more women are the primary caretaker of children. According to the American Time Use Survey (ATUS), mothers spend 80% more time caring for children than fathers. This disparity widens even further when you exclude the "entertainment" categories like playing or reading to children (130% increase, or more than double) [6]. This matters because it provides some insight into how rates of abuse would be different. You need to adjust for time spent with children to get a meaningful rate. Another way to look at this is that despite mothers spending almost twice the amount of time around children as fathers, they account for the same number of perpetrators. This alone should tell you that a child is more likely to be safe in the company of a randomly selected woman than a randomly selected man.

In case you still aren't convinced however, the report also clarifies that the perpetrator sex varied widely by maltreatment type. Women were the perpetrator in 58.5% of neglect cases (vs 41%) and 70.5% of medical neglect cases (vs 29%). But men were the perpetrator in 49.5% of physical abuse cases (vs 49%), 89% of sexual abuse cases (vs 8%), and 59% of emotional abuse cases (vs 41%). While no form of child maltreatment is ever acceptable, I hope I don't need to explain how abuse (which "requires an action") is different from neglect (which "occurs from an inaction") and requires different responses.

Speaking of neglect: there is much discourse on how much of the neglect (and medical neglect) registered by CPS is "true neglect" and how much is a result of poverty. This is particularly relevant considering single mothers are much more likely to live in poverty than married couples or single fathers. Examples of this may include: a mother doesn't have enough money to buy food and pay for rent so she and her child eat very little until her next paycheck, a single mother can't miss work without being fired so she sends her sick child to school, a single mother can't pay for child care so she has to choose between leaving her child home alone or having an unfit adult (her own abusive parent? an unsuitable boyfriend?) watch her child. In all of these situations, something absolutely needs to be done to help the child, but it likely isn't the same something as a child who's being beaten or sexually abused by his father.

Other notes on neglect: even the relatively higher proportion of female perpetrators for neglect and medical neglect in this sample are well below parity when adjusted for time spent with the child. It’s also likely that men’s rates of neglect are likely severely under-reported here. Why? Because a neglect case is rarely (if ever) opened for absentee ("deadbeat") dads; it's also unclear how many men with non-primary custody are listed as perpetrators of neglect. (I ask you: if mothers are considered neglectful for failing to intervene on behalf of their child in abusive/neglectful situations, why aren't fathers?)

Other studies on child abuse perpetration (sadly no national reports) show:

Evaluations of child fatalities in Missouri over a 8-year period showed men inflicted 71% of fatal injuries on young children [8]

Evaluations of fatal and nonfatal abusive head trauma over a 12-year period at the Children's Hospital of Denver found 69% of the perpetrators were male (including 74% of the perpetrators of fatal head traumas) [9]

Data from conviction rates and victimization surveys suggest that 4-5% of adult, child sex offenders (as in child sex offenders who are adults) are female, meaning that 95-96% are male [10]

Altogether, this indicates that men are more likely to abuse a child in their care than women. Unsurprisingly, it’s safer for children to be around women than around men.

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No, women do not initiate more domestic violence/commit the same amount of abuse.

You said "women ... initiate 70% of domestic violence". It took me a while to find a source for this statistic, but I eventually found out it comes from a poorly done study that unfortunately finds company with a number of other poorly done studies touted by MRAs and anti-feminists.

Before we address that study specifically: a brief history of the nonsense plaguing domestic violence research.

To be clear, this is not a new discussion, we (the general we) have been having this same discussion about whether there's gender parity in domestic violence for, oh, 50 years or so. It is, possibly not entirely, but certainly mostly the result of the "Conflict Tactics Scale" (CTS). Intended for use in family violence research, it has several methodological flaws which make its results ... let's go with unreliable.

I really thought I'd discussed the CTS before now ... but can't find anything on my blog. But there is this post which is a nice pictograph about this next topic, which I will loop into our discussion of the CTS.

So ... why is the CTS so unreliable? Because "domestic violence" is not a homogeneous phenomenon. If I asked someone to picture an abusive relationship they are almost certainly going to imagine an abusive man controlling his partner through intimidation, likely restricting her behavior, and possibly hitting or otherwise physically harming her. This "typical" dynamic is what we think of when we hear "domestic abuse/violence". (I'd argue that it's what we should think of when discussing domestic violence, but I'm open to being convinced otherwise.)

Notably, what this doesn't include is the -- far more common -- case of situational violence. A "typical" example of situational violence is arguments that "gets out of hand" and end with one partner slapping/shoving/etc. the other (switching between perpetrator for different incidents) or two people who routinely get "nasty" (name calling, personal insults) to each other during arguments. There's no intimidation or controlling behavior and it doesn't escalate. It also is generally not associated with significant victim hardship (i.e., no/little increase in depression, anxiety, or PTSD; little fear or feeling unable to escape the relationship; no or few physical injuries; little or no economic hardship; etc.). It's also what's predominately being measured by the CTS.

This isn't to say that situational violence is "okay". It clearly isn't, no more than a bar fight or slapping a co-worker is okay. It is, however, far more comparable to these examples (bar fight, slapping a coworker, etc.) than it is to the standard conception of domestic violence (which itself is more comparable to being a prisoner of war [11]). Some people have tried to resolve this by renaming the standard conception to "intimate partner terrorism" or "domestic abuse with coercive control". I have ... mixed thoughts on this, so I'm going to leave it at this for now.

If you'd like to read more about this, Michael P. Johnson at PSU (who originally proposed this division back in the 1990s!) has written a book and also has numerous articles about the topic.

I have a lot of sources about the CTS/differences in violence perpetration rates, but this post is already very long and I plan to make a whole separate post about this at some point. So, I'm going to briefly summarize the points and give some references that would be particularly helpful.

So, the issues with CTS include:

Failure to include a full range of possible violent behaviors, including many that are almost always perpetrated by men, including: rape, murder, choking, and suffocation.

Failure to examine post-breakup/divorce time periods, despite post-separation being one of the most dangerous time periods for abused women (but, notably, not men).

Failure to examine context. This gets back at the paradigm I mentioned above: studies that do examine context have shown that the vast majority of coercive controlling violence (i.e., traditional abuse) is perpetrated by men and the vast majority of responsive violence (i.e., self-defense) is perpetrated by women.

Failure to examine the severity of the violence and/or violence impacts. Studies have also shown that women routinely receive the more severe injuries than men. That applies to both the injuries received from coercive controlling violence and from situational violence. Notably, men are rarely ever injured from responsive violence. Women also routinely report more severe psychological and social problems as a result of abuse.

Extremely poor phrasing of the questions. The CTS is unique in its false positive rate, as has been established by several other measures of violence. For example, simply adding the stem "Not including horseplay or joking around..." reduced the number of violent incidents reported and also showed higher rates of female victimization than male victimization.

Inconsistency with every other scale/measure used for determining prevalence rates of abuse! Hopefully it is obvious why this is an issue, but as an example: if I created a new measure for "depressive symptoms" and I found that it correlated very poorly with every other accepted measure of depressive symptoms then my new measure would be considered to have very poor "convergent validity". In non-politicized situations, my measure would likely never make it to the publishing stage, and would certainly fall out of use once this poor validity demonstrated by another study. Unfortunately, science is not immune to politics any more than the people conducting it are, as we can see with the survival of the CTS.

I gathered this information from a bunch of sources, but I've selected a few reviews (i.e., papers that "review" or condense many other papers into one) that would be helpful to you [12-16]. I recommend [12] in particular, although [13] touches on much of the same information and is much shorter. Ultimately, the CTS can, at most, be considered a measure of situational violence (and it's not even very good at that!).

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So, finally, why is the 70% study [17] particularly bad?

All of the above problems with CTS apply, but in addition to all of that, they didn't just use the already flawed measure as it was ... no they, narrowed it down into 6 total questions. In total it asked about the respondent's perpetration of victimization of the following forms of violence: threatening with violence, pushing/shoving, throwing something, slapped, hit, kicked. They then "assessed" severity by asking a single question about injuries ("How often has partner had an injury, such as a sprain, bruise, or cut because of a fight with you?" and the corresponding victimization version.)

So, let's see ... failure to include predominately male forms of violence? Check. Further exclusion of even the existing items on the CTS that do examine this? Check! Failure to examine time past the relationship? Check. Failure to examine context? Check! Failure to examine severity of violence? Check. (Asking about a sprain or a bruise but not hospitalizations? broken bones? concussions?) Inconsistency with all other measures? Definitely!

Other problems with the study: they asked individuals to rate their perpetration and victimization, they did not examine their partners responses to such questions. This is a problem for a study like this, given that men tend to over-estimate their partners violence towards them and under-estimate their own violence towards their partner, and women do the opposite over-estimating their own violence and under-estimating their partners [12]. A note that a related problem has also shown up for the original CTS (i.e., if you asked both partners to complete the scale, their responses may agree on the "explaining a disagreement" item pair, but there was little if any agreement on the severe items like the "beating up" item pair).

To make a bad problem even worse: they condensed their multi-item (8-point) scales into binary (yes/no) categories and 3-item (low/medium/high) categories. This reduction in variance likely created artificially high rates for women and artificially low rates for men.

Hilariously (infuriatingly), they make it all the way through this data and then acknowledge that their study may not actually have examined domestic abuse at all! Instead it describes "common couple violence or situational violence", which, again, goes back to what the paradigm I introduced earlier. Of course, they don't revise their title or abstract to be less misleading ... that wouldn't be sensational enough.

Also, just to point this out: even this poorly designed, misleading study still showed "men were more likely to inflict an injury on a partner than ... women". So ... there you go. Even tipping the scales/design as far in favor of a "gender symmetry" result as they can possibly go, women still end up injured more than men.

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So, for the rest of your ask:

"yet men are still portrayed as the villains"

well when 1 in 3 men around the world openly admit to abusing women, and they are the perpetrator of 90+% of homicides, and 10-67% of men openly admit to believing non-defensive physical and sexual violence against women is at least sometimes okay it's pretty easy to see why women can see them as the villain/enemy.

"You should read the comments or some of the reblogs under that post. Full of people who have been abused by women and have been safer when around only men,and never been taken seriously."

This is one of those cases where critical thinking skills are pretty important! Let me start you off:

Do I think that a social media post will garner a representative sample from which to draw conclusions? Or is more likely that people who agree with the post will comment on and re-blog it, spreading it more people who are more likely to agree with it?

Can I see the re-blog I'm making comments about (i.e., evidence-based-activism's re-blog?). If not, (hint: it's not in the re-blog viewer :)) is it possible that there are other hidden replies that are disagreeing with this post?

Maybe most importantly: do I need female-on-male or female-on-female violence to be as common as male-on-female and male-on-male violence in order to show compassion to those who do experience it? (Hint: you shouldn't!! Something doesn't need to be common to deserve sympathy and rare =/= excusable.)

In addition, this is touching on a pretty common issue with discourse these days -- the prioritization of "feeling" over "being". Someone (male or female) may feel safer around men, but statistically speaking they are safer around women. It's reasonable to respond to and accommodate people's feelings on an individual basis, it's not reasonable to base an ideology or policy around them.

"You say it’s a strawman fallacy but no it’s not, radfems say this shit all the timesee. ... Maybe you’re not saying it but a lot of popular radfems are, to mostly agreement from other radfems,so you can’t really blame people for seeing that and understanding it to be a popular TERF take."

Similar to the last point ... views on social media are not representative of a population. Views that you, specifically, are seeing are not representative! If they were, then "well, I see more posts preemptively criticizing people for not including men than I see posts excluding men" (which is true, almost every post I read now-a-days includes caveats like "but men are abused too!! and women can be abusers!!") would have been a valid counter-argument to your ask. But see, I know that my experience on social media is not universal, and I should hope you can acknowledge the same of your own!

Also ... to be fair to all these unnamed "radfems", I'm guessing that you would consider my posts (like this response) to be an example of someone "saying this", which is very much not the case. I am acknowledging social trends and making reasonable generalizations to allow for communication about a complex topic (you know, the way people do for any and every topic ever), but I'm not claiming that no women is ever abusive or that no man has ever been abused. I'm guessing that these other posts are pretty similar (if less verbose).

side note, you also said: "radfems ... are very gender essentialist themselves".

Either you don't know what "gender essentialist" means or the people you are talking to/about are not radfems. I acknowledge that there are a number of people going around and saying they're radfems, but the nice thing about a political group like this is they have (at least some) defined beliefs.

So, for example, if someone went around saying they are a communist, but then when asked to describe their desired economic system, describes an economy based around the free market and decentralized production ... then they aren't a communist no matter what they call themselves. A command economy is a central tenant to communism, so much so that a desire to implement one/have one is intrinsic to being a communist.

In the same way, if someone is calling themselves a radfem, but supports the preservation of gender/gender roles or believes that femininity/masculinity is biologically innate ... then they aren't a radfem.

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TL;DR:

Violent crimes for women and men are reported at similar rates.

Women and men are punished similarly for violent crimes (i.e., people do take crimes by women seriously).

Children are safer in the company of women than men. There is insufficient research to accurately describe perpetrator demographics of "minor" child abuse/neglect, but there is significant research indicating that men are the perpetrator of the the vast majority of severe injuries, fatal injuries, and sexual abuse.

Men commit the vast majority controlling domestic violence (the type of violence people think of when thinking about domestic violence); women's violence is predominately responsive. Women are also the recipients of the vast majority of injuries (minor and severe) and are the victim of almost all fatalities.

Social media posts are not representative studies.

Critical thinking skills are important!

And, everyone -- regardless of sex or any other demographic characteristic -- deserves compassion when harmed. It is still appropriate talk about trends and create policies that assist the majority of those harmed.

A reminder that I will expect a reasonable degree of engagement with this information if you plan to engage in further discussion! I'll answer the bustle link ask, but after that I'll simply delete asks that don't make a genuine attempt to think critically about this information. (Clarifying questions are okay to ask though :)).

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References below the cut:

Criminal Victimization, 2022 | Bureau of Justice Statistics. https://bjs.ojp.gov/library/publications/criminal-victimization-2022.

“National Incident-Based Reporting System (NIBRS) Details Reported in the United States .” Federal Bureau of Investigation Crime Data Explorer, https://cde.ucr.cjis.gov/LATEST/webapp/#/pages/explorer/crime/crime-trend.

Myrna S. Raeder Gender and Sentencing: Single Moms, Battered Women, and Other Sex-Based Anomalies in the Gender-Free World of the Federal Sentencing Guidelines, 20 Pepp. L. Rev. Iss. 3 (1993) Available at: https://digitalcommons.pepperdine.edu/plr/vol20/iss3/1

https://web.archive.org/web/20240406064949/https://www.theguardian.com/news/datablog/2019/jan/12/intimate-partner-violence-gender-gap-cyntoia-brown

Child Maltreatment 2022. https://www.acf.hhs.gov/cb/report/child-maltreatment-2022.

“Average Hours per Day Parents Spent Caring for and Helping Household Children as Their Main Activity.” Bureau of Labor Statistics, https://www.bls.gov/charts/american-time-use/activity-by-parent.htm.

Shrider, Emily A., Melissa Kollar, Frances Chen, and Jessica Semega, U.S. Census Bureau, Current Population Reports, P60-273, Income and Poverty in the United States: 2020, U.S. Government Publishing Office, Washington, DC, September 2021.

Schnitzer PG, Ewigman BG. Child deaths resulting from inflicted injuries: household risk factors and perpetrator characteristics. Pediatrics. 2005 Nov;116(5):e687-93. doi: 10.1542/peds.2005-0296. PMID: 16263983; PMCID: PMC1360186.

Starling SP, Holden JR, Jenny C. Abusive head trauma: the relationship of perpetrators to their victims. Pediatrics. 1995 Feb;95(2):259-62. PMID: 7838645.

McCartan, K. (Ed.). (2014). Responding to Sexual Offending. Palgrave Macmillan UK. https://doi.org/10.1057/9781137358134

Comparison Between Strategies Used on Prisoners of War and Battered Wives | Office of Justice Programs. https://www.ojp.gov/ncjrs/virtual-library/abstracts/comparison-between-strategies-used-prisoners-war-and-battered-wives.

Michael S. Kimmel. (2001). Male Victims of Domestic Violence: A Substantive and Methodological Research Review. The Equality Committee of the Department of Education and Science. https://vawnet.org/material/male-victims-domestic-violence-substantive-and-methodological-research-review

Flood, M. (1999, July 10). Claims About Husband Battering [Contribution to Newspaper, Magazine or Website]. Domestic Violence and Incest Resource Centre Newsletter; Domestic Violence and Incest Resource Centre. https://eprints.qut.edu.au/215068/

Walter DeKeseredy & Martin Schwartz. (1998). Measuring the Extent of Woman Abuse in Intimate Heterosexual Relationships: A Critique of the Conflict Tactics Scales. VAWnet.Org. https://vawnet.org/material/measuring-extent-woman-abuse-intimate-heterosexual-relationships-critique-conflict-tactics

Shamita Das Dasgupta. (2001). Towards an Understanding of Women’s Use of Non-Lethal Violence in Intimate Heterosexual Relationships. VAWnet.Org. https://vawnet.org/material/towards-understanding-womens-use-non-lethal-violence-intimate-heterosexual-relationships

Whitaker, Daniel J., et al. “Differences in Frequency of Violence and Reported Injury Between Relationships With Reciprocal and Nonreciprocal Intimate Partner Violence.” American Journal of Public Health, vol. 97, no. 5, May 2007, pp. 941–47. PubMed Central, https://doi.org/10.2105/AJPH.2005.079020.

#feminism #male violence

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beardedalcoholic · 9 months ago

Text

Memories of a Soul

Galgac couldn’t believe his luck.

He cursed the circumstances but promised himself he would make the most of it. For a space faring species like himself this was possibly a once in a lifetime opportunity for not only himself but his race and the galactic community as a whole.

A human was dying, an actual human! The tiny gods that ascended to the stars upon pillars of flame and madness, the seemingly unstoppable tide of warriors risen from their garden world of death.

Over a hundred cycles had passed since they took to the galactic scene and in that time, they had started as many wars as they had stopped and brought a level of culture unseen beforehand.

Wars between worlds that had been raging beyond the memory of those involved had been quelled by their words and ideas, while oppressive regimes and entire governments had been toppled from their previously unreachable heights.

With a standard lifespan many times that of their space sailing counterparts it was not unheard of for a human to be entrusted with knowledge, items, messages or words of wisdom for later generations.

Added onto this seemingly impossible life span it was well known that humans simply did not accept death. Injuries that would kill many other species were more of an inconvenience to the humans, some looked at the loss of limbs and organs as a challenge to come back from and try again while others used their story as a way to teach and warn future generations of miniature titans.

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

For a species known for being able to dive deep into the psyche of practically any and all species, humans were like forbidden treasure troves of knowledge and wisdom: firsthand experience of historical events, important conversations, debated actions of who did what? and why?

All of this information and more could usually be found in the mind of a human…of course there was only the small matter of GETTING the information.

Human minds were said to be nigh impenetrable to all but the cleverest of infiltrators and even then, it was said once you got in there was no telling what you would, or could find. Human mental defenses were said to range from endless labyrinths that constantly changed their configuration to impossible creatures from the humans’ imagination.

To be invited to meet a human was a great honor, to meet one dying of old age was thought among some to be impossible as many species still believed them immortal. To not only be allowed to enter the human’s mind, but to be invited to do so was almost too incredible to believe.

“You’re Galtakal’s kid aren’t you?” The raspy voice from the bed snapped Galgac out of his mental musings.

Following the voice to its source on the hospital bed Galgac focused on the human, thin hair the color of silver, skin wrinkled and spotted with age unheard of among most species, muscles that at one time could bend Taraxian steel and break Fomotian carapace lay withered and atrophied as mere shadows of their former glory.

Lines creased the human’s face telling of cycles beyond measure spent smiling and laughing…as well as snarling and frowning…the stories this human’s physical self could tell alone were staggering. The eyes though were what nearly stole Galgac’s breath…blue like a clear warmth cycle with not a cloud in sight, yet still sharp as a mono-molecular blade…age may have robbed this human of his physical might, but even time could not seem to dull the mind of this once legendary creature.

“Y-yes, um yes sir, Galtakal was my sire…how could you know that…sir?” The human laughed quietly to himself before he answered.

“The bio-luminescent spots on your face, they are almost exactly like your fathers’ spots…you carry yourself the same as well…arrogance like none other, well deserved and justifiable no doubt, but still I want to punch you in the face just like the first time I met your father. I miss him you know, he deserved a better death than what he got…self-sacrificing prick left you a message by the way, I imagine you will find it at some point.” Galgac was speechless…this human had known his sire, it sounded like they knew each other personally even.

Walking forward Galgac reached out to the human and laid his webbed digits within the human’s grip, barely restrained strength still coursing through the powerful muscles and bones even in his advanced age. With a feeling not unlike having his brain liquified and then vacuumed through a long tube Galgac slid his awareness down his arm and into the human before him.

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

Galgac found himself on a battlefield on a planet he had never been to, human atmospheric air fighters...jets they called them...screamed overhead with the battle cries of war maddened harbingers of an apocalypse.

Bullets split the air with sonic booms and whizzed like furious insects while lasers and bolts of superheated plasma melted armor...bombs went off far away, no...closer...to close!

Galgac found himself picked up by an ethereal giant and slammed down on his back, surely such an impact just broke his entire back plate and probably a few organs were going to be bleeding...no, he was getting back up...how was he getting back u-

*OOF!*

Suddenly a body slammed into him just before a searing line of plasma wrent the air where his head had been seconds before.

Looking towards the figure that had just slammed him back into the ground, and saved his life in no uncertain terms, Galgac was shocked…

“Father?” The face looking at him was much younger, but it was unmistakably the face of his sire.

“Are you injured human? Can you still fight?” Galgac nearly lost the connection to the humans’ mind with the flood of emotions that came with that question.

A figure blocked the unknown planet’s sun, a long blade raised to strike the both of them in a single blow. With unfamiliar muscles and reactions that superseded conscious thought Galgac wrapped his father with arms that felt as though they could crush the seemingly fragile body within their grasp to a pulp and rolled to the side until he was looking down upon his father from a reversed position of their previous one.

Adrenalin surged, muscles tensed, nerves fired like atomic engines and Galgac felt his new and unfamiliar body sing with a power he had never known...he wanted to run, he wanted to mate, he wanted to fight, oh how he wanted to fight, to strike down the enemy and scream his power to the skies of this alien world in defiance of all attempts to defeat him.

Surging to his feet and drawing the combat vibra-blade from his shoulder sheath Galgac spun to engage the enemy, only for the visage of the human from the hospital bed to appear, grab him by the throat and lift him up and out of his new body.

“Sorry about that, Galtakal told me that might happen but I didn’t really think about it until a few seconds ago...I guess the thoughts of your father got me thinking about the first time we met. He saved my life you know, I saved his in return a few seconds later but that was irrelevant…”

Galgac tried to focus on what was his and what was memory, the feeling of being human for just those few seconds was intoxicating.

The power contained in the limbs, seeing the world in spectrums of color and depth so vastly different than his own, senses all on fire from the bloodlust of battle sending him so much information about his surroundings. He was amazed the humans could possibly process it all...and there, in front of him he saw the human whose mind he was now intruding upon, watching his past self and Galgac’s sire fight side by side.

Like two dancers they spun around each other...no... the human ducked and wove like a zephyr of cutting wind around his sire, slicing with his blade and drawing blood with every strike while his sire would spin in place from one target to the next, expertly placing blaster rounds through vital points.

Seeing his sire like this was...jarring to say the least, for so long he had known him as a peace loving and quiet individual. Seeing one of his progenitors as a whirling dervish of war and death seemingly moving in time with a human was...well he would have to explore those thoughts later, for now he had years of memories to view.

“Come on lad, let me show you around a bit.” Hearing the voice of the human whose mind he was intruding upon just before a powerful hand fell upon his shoulder gave him just enough time to brace himself. The world around them seemed to blur and melt into a confusing wash of colors before seeming to solidify into a new scene, thankfully less chaotic.

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Looking around, Galgac realized he was on a ship...by the markings upon the bulkheads it was... yes, the UGF Predatory Might, the first ship designed by humans and built by the Unified Galactic Federation.

Seeing the human begin walking down the hall Galgac followed him and did his best to pay attention to everything at once, this was a ship not often seen by non-humans and even then, it was only really sent for one of two reasons...War and Relief.

This ship alone contained enough armaments to send most smaller celestial bodies spinning into a star while also boasting one of the most advanced medical facilities in the known universe. Walking along the hallways of the ship Galgac could only marvel at what he saw, humans walking to and fro with some running and dodging around their counterparts with grace unseen in most species and others casually reading various reports and updates on tablets while simultaneously avoiding collision with those around them.

“Ya know I never did figure out how they did that...just dodge around everyone without looking up from reading and still be able to comprehend what they were looking at.” Spinning to look at the human, Galgac felt his luminescent markings begin to glow brighter...this human was not JUST a human as he had been led to believe...this was…

“B-b-battle Master Alventar…” This was one of the most highly decorated humans in recent history, he had personally led more successful war efforts than any other human on record and who had planned an almost incalculable amount of side missions, some of which wouldn’t be released for at least a century AFTER his death.

“Yes yes...that was one of my titles, did they not tell you who I used to be? Ah well, no matter, come let me show you why we are here.” With an easy smile and almost eager stride the Battle Master continued on down the hall. Following quickly Galgac whipped his head around enough that if he was in a physical body his neck would be getting sore. “Here it is lad…” Battle Master Alventar said ahead of him as he slid through a door and then looked through a window, his voice was oddly low and almost reverently anticipatory. Catching up to the human Galgac gazed at him and noted the strange look upon his face.

A small smile graced the human’s face, coupled with the simple light of joy in his eyes seemed to shed decades from his visage.

Seeing him pressed up against the glass like a child caused Galgac to gaze in slight wonder...this human was one of the most brilliant battle minds of the known galaxy, he had seen more battle than most battalions and had been in command longer than Galgac had been alive, what could possibly be beyond that glass to make him act this way?

Turning from the Battle Master, Galgac gazed through the glass and was slightly taken aback...he actually had to do a double take to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating, one of the figures within the room was a much younger version of the human standing next to him.

Standing within the room was a mid-thirties Alventar standing next to a rather large woman, her stomach vastly bloated out, disproportionate to what the rest of her body would suggest would be normal. She should have looked like a slim, mocha skinned, dark-haired goddess of a woman but instead she was a rather large, round, goddess of a woman. Skin flushed with exertion and gleaming with sweat the young woman’s face was screwed tight with pain, breaths coming in short pants and gasps.

“What um...what am I looking at Battle Master...why are we here?” Galgac asked softly.

“This is one of the most momentous days of my life… I tell you now lad, I have seen stars collapse and die, I have seen battlefields strewn with bodies uncounted and I have witnessed entire planets and civilizations reduced to dust but right here...this moment...this is when I witnessed the greatest miracle to grace this universe…the act of bringing LIFE into the world…” The look on the Battle Master’s face was one of tearful joy beyond anything Galgac could relate to.

Feeling the psychic resonance between them Galgac was soon swept up in a wash of golden joy beyond anything he could have ever conceived. The feeling that flooded his entire mental being was enough to bring him to tears at the simple and expansive joy of it, vitality and warmth flooded down his limbs and seemed to invigorate his muscles and nerves until they were singing like a solar storm.

“She’s here...my Star Queen…” The Battle Master spoke in a low voice usually reserved for quiet temples and altars. With a voice like he was invoking an ancient goddess’s name the Battle Master pressed himself harder against the glass and continued to speak.

“She was always the best thing I had ever done, my greatest accomplishment and most beautiful achievement…” Galgac reluctantly shook himself of the golden feelings and gazed within the room, there laying on the bed was the dark-haired woman holding a small bundle of blankets to her chest.

Looking closer Galgac could see the small figure of a human baby swaddled in the blanket, it seemed to be rather upset at its current situation as it was apparently crying.

“I am afraid I do not understand...it is merely a child, there are many of them and they all seem to look like that when they are born…” In later years Galgac would learn how close he came to getting a royal ass whooping right then and that the look on the Battle Master’s face was not one of deep confusion but rather murderous incredulity.

“I have left entire continents barren and choked with death, I have orchestrated missions that toppled governments and overthrew tyrants across more star systems than I can remember but right there, in that room is the first woman to see me for more than the battle scars and nightmares. In her arms is the first time I have ever been associated with life...she is my greatest achievement because she is the result of a true partnership, a battle pair, life mates and soul bonds. That little girl in there has the beauty, strength, mind and absolute power of her mother….and I guess my eyes along with some other stuff…”

Looking into the room once more Glagac observed the interactions of the mother and child, how when the Battle Master was introduced he seemed to show a level of care and gentleness not usually seen in his species of near immortal battle fanatics.

Watching the three of them, two elders and a newborn, Galgac saw how they instinctively covered the babe with their bodies from threats unknown, how they both glared at any medical professional that dared approach them even if for no more than a heartbeat.

These were new parents and they would scorch all of creation if it meant their child was safe. The Golden sense of unparalleled joy was soon suffusing him as he opened himself to the psychic resonance again, except this time it was tempered and sheathed in a layer of Steel resolve. Galgac found himself almost overwhelmed at the sheer power behind these two humans’ determination that nothing would harm the child they brought into this world.

The feeling of a hand landing solidly upon his shoulder caused Galgac to jump slightly. Whipping his head to the side he saw the Battle Master looking at him with an expression of profound sadness somehow mixed with un-ending joy.

“Time to go lad...There is no way for me to ever repay you for this gift. You have allowed me to witness the birth of my firstborn once more, the birth of the Brightest Star in my Skies and it is something I never thought I would ever be able to experience again outside of my hazy memories.” Turning away from Galgac the Battle Master made his way to the infirmary door that opened onto a completely different world.

“Well? You wanted to see my memories right?” Shaking himself of the lingering golden affects that the birth of his daughter caused, Galgac hurried to the new door and the memory that lay beyond.

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

Walking out of another memory Galgac was giving a new definition to the term disoriented, his head was spinning from the sheer amount of LIFE this single human had experienced. In the last few heartbeats Galgac had experienced events and conversations that could topple at least two governments and probably allow him to black mail an entire planet and that was before the sheer amount of training and battle this man had seen.

“I...I had no idea…” Words did not easily surface in the hurricane of his mind after seeing what he had just witnessed.

“I know right? Who would have thought your old man was such a badass! I still have no idea where he got a donkey, a ladder, three cases of genuine earth tequila and five pounds of C-4...but that had to be the best bachelor party Calament IV has ever seen.” Finishing this statement with a hearty laugh and missing Galgac’s response that he could have told the man how much of a badass his dad was, the two of them looked around at their newest setting.

Cheers and applause assaulted Galgac’s auditory receptors like a rogue wave upon a beach. Lights flashed and a sun much harsher than his world’s own glared at him from above. A gentle breeze was the only respite Galgac received from the sudden change in settings, this was one of the things he hated the most about going through another being’s memories: having to experience their life through what they remembered. The day could have been ten degrees cooler and the wind even stronger but if the human didn't remember it that way then Galgac sure wasn’t going to experience it that way.

“Ughh...I was really hoping to never have to relive this day, I guess it makes sense to go from some of the best days of my life to one of the worst…still sucks though.” Galgac looked to his side after he acclimated to the harsh environment and was shocked once more.

Standing beside him was the Battle Master, but much diminished from his previous gravitas.

Mid to late twenties at best, he almost looked like a child playing dress up. Fresh faced and with coal black hair he stood there in his dress uniform, creases on his pants crisp enough to slice fruit, shirt fitted perfectly and starched to within an inch of its life. He looked every inch the perfect young military tactician...except the eyes. The usually deep pools of light blue were now frozen over and shallow, the sight sent a shiver down Galgac’s short spine.

“This was the day...the day I received the most painful reminder of my actions, the day that started my worst nightmares.” In a moment of dissonance he had not experienced before Galgac watched as the Battle Master seemed to step out of himself.

With one vision walking forward to the call of his name and the other standing there as solid as a Column of Reality Galgac watched as the Head of the United Galactic Federation gave a short speech and proceeded to pin a shining medal to the Battle Master’s chest.

“Yes...a medal and speech about peace after one of the greatest instances of near xenocide in my species history. I was to be lauded and seen as a hero of war after making the final decision to nearly annihilate an entire race.”

The only warning Galgac had that something was going to change was the cold feeling of despair sliding through his veins like mercury right before the sunny day and gentle breeze blurred, running like water colors before Galgac’s eyes until he was standing upon the command deck of the UGF Last Resort, the most powerful warship in history.

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“I ask you again Emperor, surrender for the sake of your future, for the sake of your planet and people!”

Captain Alventar pleaded across the vid screen to the enemy ruler. Pouring every ounce of desperation and desire for a peaceful outcome he could into his voice the captain leant over his console. Around him were men and women years into their fields of study and profession and all of them remained still over their stations as they awaited the final word from their Commanding Officer. The air was thick with tension and not a single member of the bridge crew dared even breathe too loudly as they awaited the reply from the Alanshel Emperor.

“We will never surrender human.” The voice came over the translator in a vile hiss of contempt.

“The Alanshel empire will take our rightful place as rulers of this galaxy and we will subjugate all those that resist us!” It was only by the feeling of frustrated embers squirming across his skin like writhing eels that told Galgac what Captain Alventar was truly thinking, even more so when the embers cooled and became like shards of metal slowly sinking down to drive themselves into his very bones.

“I was afraid you would say that...Just remember that you brought this upon yourself...and may your Gods visit mercy upon your decision, for we will show none.” Galgac watched as the young captain stood up from his command console and seemed to simultaneously collapse and grow in presence.

Squaring his shoulders and straightening his spine with a sharp inhale the Battle Master stood there with his eyes closed as if steeling himself. With smooth, almost dreamlike movements the newly born Battle Master reached forward and flipped the cover off a deceptively small but violently red button.

“Let the record show all attempts were made to reach a peaceful solution...and all attempts failed...By the power and responsibility invested in my position as Captain of the UGF Last Resort and Leader of the Battle Fleet Armada, I am hereby calling a fleet wide orbital bombardment...all ships fire at will.”

That was all it took, pressing a small red button and the world seemed to turn in on itself for Galgac. The entire ship rocked and shuddered as its most powerful munitions were unleashed upon the world below. Across the view screens similar scenes played out from different angles...battle cruisers and warships ejecting massive payloads of death upon the planet below them.

Galgac watched in awe as the planet lit up like small suns were suddenly birthed upon its surface. Looking around the Control Center he noticed almost everyone had either looked away or closed their eyes not wanting to witness the destruction being wrought beneath them...but not the Captain, not the Battle Master.

Standing there in front of the poly-carbide windows of the Control Center the Captain stood with his arms clasped behind his back, shoulders rigid and legs straight...he would not watch what he had done on a screen when he could witness it firsthand. Galgac approached the Captain, the young Battle Master, and was shocked at what he saw...tears.

Tears were streaming silently down the Captain’s face as he looked down on the world he had just condemned to fire. His breathing was slow and steady, face seemingly carved in stone, shoulders and back locked in place as if he would defy the very laws of the universe to bend him from his stance. Yet his collar began to show signs of the tears soaking it and small plops rang like bells in the near silence as they fell to the floor.

It was in that moment Galgac felt he began to understand, the decision to burn the world below him had elevated The Captain to his position of Battle Master and in doing so had carved irreparable scars into his soul. With every tear that fell from the Battle Master’s eye, with every new blast that lit up the world beneath them Galgac felt a new wound upon his very soul, a new scar freshly made.

“Two billion, seven hundred and forty-three million dead in the first ten minutes of the barrage...by the calculations.” The voice that came from behind him was supposed to be the Battle Master, but it was hollow and dead as a tree left to die of disease. Turning away from the broken face of the newly minted Battle Master and ignoring the roiling flames and embers of the planet below them Galgac looked to the human whose mind he was currently walking through. Eyes like chips of ice, face hewn of stone and stance like a mountain enduring a hurricane, the True Battle Master stood there, tears streaming from his eyes as he looked down at the planet. The feeling that radiated from this pillar of strength was that of a human forged in battle, a cold breeze from Galgac’s homeworld at the turning of the seasons, soothingly cold and bracing but with the slightest change and without warning it could become sharp enough to slice to the bone.

“We will never know exactly how many died in the attack...never know how many were condemned to death by my actions, my failure to negotiate peace. I have been told by the best shrinks, negotiation experts, politicians, therapists etc etc that there was nothing I could have done. I have seen the reports, the statistical analysis and every piece of data we could possibly have of the war before, during and after this moment...it doesn’t help. I can hear them you know…” At this point Galgac thought he might be able to hear ‘them’...whoever ‘They’ were.

“I can hear them in my dreams...in my moments of weakness. I can hear the screams and cries of those that are burning down there right now. I can hear the ones that were on the edge and that survived the initial blasts. I can hear the ones that looked up to the skies that day and screamed as they gazed upon judgment being passed upon them. I was Judge, Jury and Executioner that day and I have never been able to tell myself otherwise.”

It was probably a trick of the memory but Galgac was certain the fires of the planet burned brighter and fiercer in the eyes of the True Battle Master for just an instant. The feeling of a turning season’s breeze faded only to be replaced by the feeling of a crushing weight placed upon him, as if chains forged in the fires of a dying planet were wrapping themselves around him.

Galgac was about to ask a question on what he was talking about when he felt a shift ...it was subtle but in no way insignificant. There was a weight behind this shift in the memory that defied the understanding of a mere mortal. Looking around himself Galgac noticed that things were becoming...wrong.

Corners had too many angles...distances were infinitely far away and yet too close to comprehend. Walls were suddenly as solid as time and yet as fluid as thought, gravity became nothing more than a concept as he slammed to the deck of the Command Center with all the power of a star falling from the heavens and yet landing like a feather.

“What...what is happening!?” Galgac asked as he picked himself up from the floor. Looking over to the Battle Master he was surprised to see a look of curious anticipation upon his face.

“Have you ever done this memory walk thing with someone who was dying? Ever heard of anyone who had?” The Battle Master asked with a sense of calm that seemed to spread to the surroundings.

The world seemed to solidify around them and once more Galgac was looking at nothing more than the memory of the ship’s interior. Looking back to the Battle Master, Galgac saw that he had begun walking down the main corridor towards engineering. Hurrying after the human Galgac cast one last look back to the planet as it burned beneath them under the continued barrage of the Fleet Armada.

In the time it took Galgac to turn his head back to the front they were passing through the galley, by the time he comprehended this fact they had stepped through the security door to engineering, before Galgac could even begin to think of the reason they had traveled so far, he found himself standing in front of a door covered in a variety of signs denoting hazardous levels of radiation beyond the door.

The air was heated as if they were in a sauna and hummed with barely contained power. Noticing the signs posted around them and seeing the various gauges on display Galgac realized they were next to the main reactor.

“The heart of the ship…” The voice from the Battle Master was almost reverent as he gazed at the door to the reactor chamber.

Walking as if in a dream the Battle Master stepped forward and opened the door before Galgac could stop him. Now Galgac had never been inside a reactor chamber but he was pretty sure it didn’t have such a bright light on the other side of the door.

Seeing the human silhouetted before him in a light so bright it should have hurt his eyes Galgac wanted to look away but found that he couldn’t. This could be some kind of new memory and he had to bear witness to it. A feeling like the very depths of the void between stars slowly began tracing over Galgac’s skin, cold beyond anything he could ever comprehend, tracing lines of dancing non-feeling across his entire being...down to his very soul.

“No Son, not that is not for you to see.”

A voice he had not thought he would ever hear again sounded in his ear just before a hand on his shoulder spun him around. Feeling himself wrapped in arms as familiar as they were comforting Galgac found he couldn’t speak past the raw feelings he was being bombarded with. Desperate yearning for something he had never had or experienced, a deep and ever-growing abyss of loneliness that promised to be relieved just beyond that light. Cold beyond anything he could ever understand battled with a warmth he could never forget while crushing solitude warred against familial companionship. “Father…”

The word was barely able to choke itself past the feelings he was trying to make sense of, Galgac drew upon the second-hand memory of a human’s power and will in order to wrap his own arms around the figure before him.

The form was smaller than he remembered, or he was bigger...regardless it was no less powerful than his last memory of it. He had always marveled at his father’s presence, the strength in his figure and weight of his gaze...now he knew, he understood what it was. His father had walked through the fires of a human’s mind and life and come out stronger for it and now it was his turn.

“Easy boy...I knew you would find yourself here one day, unfortunately this is all I can do for you. You mustn't look lad, that is not something for you to gaze upon.” The voice of his father was enough to bring tears of painful loss and joyous memory to Galgac’s eyes.

“What is it father, what is that light?” Galgac buried his face in his father’s broad shoulder in the same way he had as a youngling when he had accidentally viewed someone's mind and been scared of what he saw.

“It is the fire at the beginning and end of time, the edge of eternity and beginning of nothing...it is everyone's final destination.” Feeling his father raise his own head and hearing him speak again Galgac could tell he wasn’t the one his father was speaking to.

“Go ahead John, I’ll see you on the other side. I saved you a seat and a glass of whiskey just like you asked.”

“Thanks Gal, I’ll be seeing you soon...you got a good kid there you know.” It was probably just the strange feelings he was enduring but Galgac could almost swear he heard tears in the Battle Master’s voice.

“Yeah I know...he is pretty awesome, just like I told you all those times. As for you Son, it’s time for you to leave.” And indeed it seemed as if that would be the best plan of action as the world around him seemed to become less and less real with every failing heartbeat that now rang throughout the mental construct.

“Tell your mother I miss her and that there are so many goddesses in the afterlife I may have to lower my standards for one of them.”

Galgac gave a choked laugh at the stupid joke his parents always seemed to have...how his father could never bring himself to betray his mother because even if a goddess descended before him, she could never hope to live up to his mother’s beauty and sharp wit.

“HA...hehe…she is going to kick your teeth in when she catches up to you, you know that right.” He didn’t care that he was talking to a mental construct of a father that had died months ago...short by human standards but long enough to dull the pain for many other species.

“Yeah I know...well she has to catch me first. Farewell Son, it was good seeing you again.”

With those final words Galgac found himself surrounded by a crushing black void and the overwhelming sense of something staring at him. Something older than even humans could comprehend, something that was interested in him only as a future project or a topic to come back to in a casual conversation. Trying desperately to remember how to release himself from another’s mind, Galgac was just about to panic when he felt as much as heard a voice that would speak to him in his dreams and nightmares for years to come.

‘Not yet...’

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With a jerking start Galgac’s eyes snapped open and it was only after a few seconds that he could understand what he was seeing.

An off-white ceiling, meaning he was probably on his back...the soft cushion beneath him confirmed his current position. Turning his head Galgac realized the ringing in his ears was not in his head but rather the life signs indicator attached to the Battle Master.

“Do not bother…” The voice seemed to come from a great distance.

“The Battle Master has passed from this life and is enjoying his final peace.”

Oh...that was his voice...yes it was...closing his eyes Galgac began the process of reacquainting his mind with his physical body. A body he had been born with but had spent less than his full life-span within, a body that had tasted the power, ferocity and sheer depth of a human’s mind. Doing his best to ignore the sounds of the doctors trying to revive the great man one bed over Galgac forcibly relaxed into the cushion and did his best to bring order to his mind and body...and to come to peace with seeing his father one last time.

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The Funeral for John Alventar, Battle Master, Peace Bringer, Black Operator...husband...father...beloved...was a thing of beauty beyond what most species would understand, but Galgac now could.

With his newfound understanding of how deep and powerfully a human could feel Galgac felt himself straining under the weight of the proceedings around him. An almost inconceivable amount of children, grandchildren and even great-grandchildren approached to console him, as if he was the one losing a family member.

Representatives from the remaining Alenshal empire arrived along with ones from the Kalasha Shoal, Melenkal Coalition, Sardashian Republic and half a dozen other smaller groups. Entombed upon his final command ship, in a cask of demi-steel the Battle Master gently cruised towards his final destination.

The Black Hole known as Charybdis...an ever-consuming horizon of unknown danger and glory, what better final resting place for one as mighty as the human that had done so much in his lifetime.

Gazing out at the endless void and pinprick points of light Galgac nearly felt himself begin to slip back into the memories of John ‘Battle Master’ Alventar.

Over there was the main star of the system that birthed the Kalasha Shoal, thirty degrees up and seven to port was the home system of the Sardashian Republic...he was pretty sure he had grandchildren there, no...the Battle Master had grandchildren there, not him, not Galgac who had barely seen a handful of human cycles.

Giving himself a quick shake Galgac focused on the here and now, what could he hear and what could he see. With a disturbingly human pricking of his ears Galgac zeroed in on a conversation between the representatives from the Melenkal Coalition and the Sardashian Rep.

“Admit it, the only reason you are here is to make sure the old monster under your sleeping pad is truly dead.” The voice of the Melenkal Coalition was like gravel being tumbled in a metal tube.

“Saaaahh…this is true, I wish to make sure the Harbinger is truly gone as it would not be the first time he has falsified his demise.”

Contrary to the Melenkal representative the Sardashian’s voice was a musical mixture of chirps and whistles that translated to a rather pleasant songlike voice. It would be a few rotations before Galgac realized it but at the time he was not using his universal translator and was in fact simply understanding the words and sounds being spoken…much like a human would.

Looking out over the vast star field that was to bear witness to the Battle Master’s final journey, Galgac casually took note of the wide variety of vessels that had shown up in the last few hours. Flagships and attending lesser vessels lit up the surrounding area with active sensor sweeps as they maintained acceptable distances from each other.

Blocky and stout Melenkal Destroyers surrounded the long and lithe winged shapes of the Sardashian Rep. Weapons had been physically safed and disabled according to galactic funerary laws but the tension was still enough to be felt across the void. There may have been decent relations between the attending parties, but old grudges still reared their heads every now and then.

‘Ha…’old grudges’...none of these individuals have a grudge older than the Batt...than John’s youngest great- granddaughter…’Galgac just smiled bitterly to himself as he thought this.

Realizing why it was considered a double-edged honor to enter a human’s mind among his people Galgac did his best to remember who he was among the still fresh torrent of foreign memories. He thought he knew what it was to feel anger, but now he realized he had barely felt a candle’s heat when compared to the raging inferno of a human’s wrath. Sorrow was nothing new to him, but the crushing weight and dragging doubt that humans could endure showed him that he had not even begun to understand what loss and pain meant. Galgac had known happiness in his life, but he had never known the glowing golden light of a humans’ joy, the effervescent feeling of happiness pure and light that always seemed to make things a little easier.

It was with a depth of sorrow he had never felt before, and a greater understanding of the feeling itself, that Galgac watched the great vessel that carried the Battle Master cruise gently forward until it reached the event horizon of Charybdis. Watching the mighty starship be slowly pulled into the depths of the singularity and disintegrate the further in it went, Galgac felt now would be a good time to enact the Battle Master’s final wish.

Unseen to any others in the room Galgac pulled out a small remote and pressed a button.

With a flicker the various view screens around the observation deck switched over to a picture of the Battle Master. To say the occupants of the room were startled at seeing their honored nemesis glaring down at them when he should be well on his way down the throat of a black hole was an understatement.

“Hello everyone.” The voice of the Battle Master rang out over the station’s observation deck.

“By now you probably think I’m dead and well on my way to my final resting place...and I very well might be, but as you will never see my body, I want you to ask yourselves ‘Is it worth it to try and undo what he did?’...of course this might just be a pre-recorded message, but in case it isn’t let me give you one last piece of advice: let someone else figure it out first.”

Galgac had to draw on a few memories from the late John ‘Battle Master’ Alventar to make sure his laughter at the faces of horror that now surrounded him looked more like the shaking of sorrow and tears. Only a human would do something like this, strike one last bolt of terror into those that were so eager to see him dead.

Walking off the observation deck as unobtrusively as possible Galgac allowed himself to smile at the sounds of fearful chaos behind him, a true smile with teeth bared and cheeks pulled back to his ears, with eyes squinted and a laugh ready to bubble from his chest...a very human smile.

#humans are deathworlders #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities #humans are space orcs #humans are weird #humans are space fae #ao3 fanfic

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fan-goddess · 10 months ago

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hello!could you write a reaction to the dragon's house × !fem!reader, when she was flying over the sea with the dragon and one of the enemies was on the ship and shot from a crossbow.

(she and her dragon are alive but slightly injured)

Aegon,Aemond,Jacaerys Velaryon-romantic love

Alicent,Daemon,Rhaenyra,Helaena,Laenor Valeryon-platonic love

sorry if there are any mistakes! I hope everything is clear💝I've actually been thinking about this for a long time💥

HOTD characters reactions of when reader is hurt

The summary: The characters each find out during your usual flight around kingslanding that you were shot down by some people belonging to a certain group that hate the Targaryen traditions and believe it to be an abomination.

A/N: They’re all personalised and hopefully different backstories, but have given reader the same dragon in all of them as making dragons are hard. The wound is also pretty much same, but the severity is altered in some places. In the platonic ones I made reader call them mother or father, since I made them a parent. Some of these are very different as I expanded on some more and developed others. You can tell which.

This ain’t fully proofread we die like Luke!

Taglist: @valeskafics, @humanpurposes, @watercolorskyy, @omgbrcat @blue-serendipity @arcielee @targaryenbarbie

Warning: Wounds, various gore mentions, incest, kissing, tried to make it gender neutral and lack of descriptions but there are some scattered about! (if I miss any let me know)

Aegon Targaryen:

When Aegon heard the news from his mother who’d rushed to inform him of your sudden injury, he all but sprinted to the infirmary where you were being treated by one of the leading maesters.

“My love, are you alright?!? I am so sorry my love I should have insisted to accompany you! When I find the man who did this to you I shall rip off his head and feed his insides to Sunfyre and Shrykos!” He declares, the words tumbling quickly with how much rage flooded his body at the sight of your wounded self. You could barely keep up with him if you were being honest.

“Aegon, my sweet husband, it is fine! ‘Tis merely a flesh wound!” You insist, yet wincing as soon as the reassurance falls from your lips.

“And yet here you are heavily bleeding, and in very much pain! You should take some milk of the poppy!” Aegon says, looking around to find the bottle, even when you try and insist you were fine. “If you were fine you’d be with me, in our bed, safe and unharmed! So don’t argue with me wife or my wrath will be misguided!”

You merely humour him by sipping slightly at the small contents of the cup the maester had passed to you. Yet still, you can’t deny that the liquid had its desired effects, as your previously aching wound now significantly dulls down to a mere small throb once in a while.

“Now wife. Tell me who hurt you.” Aegon demands, his eyebrows furrowed and his grip tightened on your body as he insured you would be unable to get away from him.

“Just some idiotic men thinking themselves higher than us my love. They shot at me and Shrykos from their ship when we least expected it with bloody crossbones of all things, and somehow barely managed to skim us. Yet they somehow did not expect the very large dragon to get angry that their rider and themself was just attacked with no prior warning. Shrykos certainly made sure to enact on our lovely families motto. By the time she was done with them, there was nothing left but fire and blood sinking to the bottom of the sea.”

Aegons face slowly turns more and more relaxed, and by the end of your tale he’s practically grinning for joy as he kisses you deep on the lips. “That’s my bloodthirsty wife!” He mumbles against your lips, forgetting all about his past aggressions to make you feel as safe and as loved as you could be in his arms. The maester that continues to awkwardly stand their waiting to finish wrapping your arm be damned.

Aemond Targaryen:

He finds out before anyone else, as he tends to wait for you after your dragon rides if he’s unable to go with you that day. So when you come back later than usual with blood dripping down your arm and half an arrow sticking out of you, he certainly is very angry, and very much willing to get on Vhagar and hunt down and kill those who dared harm his wife. Yet he knows he must stay calm for you.

He notices how you try and mumble your dragons name under your breath, so when he makes it past one of the dragon keepers he makes sure to let them know that Shrykos may be in need of some healing. He assumes by the way your mumbles quieten after he says the order that that was what you were trying to tell him. Yet when he actually looks at you Aemond quickly realises you’ve actually fainted from blood loss.

Aemond rushes you to the Maesters room where he insists only the best work on you, even though he couldn’t afford to be picky what with you bleeding out in his arms and all. Though after a few threats and lot of claims regarding his dragon, the maesters quickly manage to remove the arrow and stem the bleeding whilst you continued to lay unconscious on the healing bed. Aemond stayed by your side the entire time, holding your hand tightly in an act of reassurance. Even though you were still unconscious.

He stayed with you the entire time though. Still holding your hand even when he fell asleep. When you eventually woke, three days after you were injured, Aemond was sure to reassure you that you were safe. Even though by the tenth time you were very ready to smack him.

“Tell me ābrazȳrys who did this too you. Vhagar has been ready for the taste of flesh since I found you. I am sure Shrykos too is ready for the thrill of the chase of those who harmed both her and her rider. Tell me, so I can make sure we can tear them limb from limb.” His words drip malice, and yet there is distinct comfort within them. Aemond has never truly been able to show his affection towards you with displays of anything other than action. And in this moment, it just so happens that action involves heavy bloodshed and possible carnage.

“Those men who hale from the vale. The ones claiming our traditions to be an abomination. A sin in the eyes of the seven. They surprised me and Shrykos as we flew above the seas and got some good strikes. But don’t worry ñuha jorrāelagon. Me and Shrykos made sure to burn them to blood and ash before we needed to flee back to kingslanding.” You attempt to smile to reassure your husband, but if anything it appears to make it worse as you wince at the pain suddenly flaring through your whole right arm.

Aemond stays quiet as he makes sure to force you to drink some milk of the poppy.

“Ābrazȳrys. If you were to die, I would have gone to the brink of insanity. I would’ve gone to those peoples homes and burned them all to the ground for what they have done to my wife. To the future mother of my children. They have harmed you though. The have scarred you. And for that offence alone, I cannot allow them a single more moments of breath. I cannot allow them to live.” Aemond storms off leaving you laying there in half shock and half admiration. You knew he would be true to his word. Which is why when not even a day had passed since Aemond had left, you’d heard whispers of what Aemond had done, and you smiled and thanked the gods for a husband like yours.

Jacaerys Velaryon:

If there was one characteristic you could say your husband embodied to the fullest, it would be loyalty. As no matter how many other women, maids and nobility alike, threw themselves at the future heirs feet he always ran back to you.

Even when other men such as the Lannister’s attempted to charm you with their admittedly horrible, yet according to them successful attempts, Jace was always there with a watchful eye, making sure all knew who you belonged too.

He was protective too. A dragon while not in appearance but definitely in spirit. Jace would always find a way to make sure you were safest whether you wanted him to be involved or not. Even this noon when you wanted to get one last dragon ride before dinner, Jace still insisted there was no need. Yet your stubbornness knew no bounds it seems, as while his back was turned you made quick speed to where Shrykos usually slept and flew her into the great distance. A mere speck in the sky before Jace knew what had happened.

You had started the flight laughing with the biggest grin on your face, eager to see the sights from the sky. Yet of course things turned worse as men from one of the many religious groups of the seven kingdoms took notice of you and your dragon, and decided to shoot you with their admittedly massive weapons.

You dodged the best you could, and yet with a scream from both you and Shrykos, you realised you were both hit.

“DRACARYS SHRYKOS! DRACARYS!” You screamed, satisfied when you hear the hells and the screams of the men and the ships bellow. With your good arm, you steer Shrykos to the direction of dragonstone and order the instructions, before all appears to go dark.

When you wake, all seems strangely normal. That is of course, before you see the giant bandaged wound that is your arm. You can see a hint of red peeking from the bandages and are about to see if you could rewrap it, before Jacaerys comes through and with wide eyes realises you are awake and well as you can be.

“My love!” He shouts, running over and encasing you in his arms. Not hearing the low hiss you make when his hands clasp around your still admittedly sore arm. “Where have you been!? You’re hurt!” He yells, finally taking noticing your blood that steadily pools to the surface. “Let us get you to the maesters!”

As much as it hurt you to have Jace pull you like he did, you merely let it all happen so not to cause an event bigger fuss of you than what he already is making. Yet when you get to the maesters chambers and nearly find yourself fainting, that’s when you suddenly understand your husbands worry.

When you wake up though, it’s the feeling of Jaces familiar warmth that settles you as you gaze on his sleeping form. Yet as you wake, so does he it seems. As not even a few minutes after you’ve woken Jace is quick to rise with you. His eyes wide and worried as they roam you for anymore possible injuries you may possibly somehow have hidden.

“Are you alright my love?!” He asks, his eyes still roaming for even a moment of weakness from you. “There maesters took care of your arm and the arrow. And I heard word from the dragon keepers who tell me Shrykos is healing dutifully from his wounds!”

“Good.” You simply say, hissing slightly as you sit up and try to keep yourself grounded. “I’d kill then if she wasn’t.”

Jacaerys laughs at your threat, and his face looks almost serene as he just looks at you. His eyes going soft as his hands continue to hold yours. It’d be an almost affectionate moment had it not been for the sudden flare up of pain in your arm.

“Fuck!” You yell, hissing once again as you’re reminded of why you’re even in the maesters room in the first place. “It is alright husband I’m fine!” You insist seeing the worry now marking his face.

“I will worry when I want.” He simply says, kissing you on the top of your head before moving to sit next to you on the bed. His head resting on yours as he puts his arms around you. Your eyes shutting as a sudden hit of exhaustion hits you, yet you welcome it fully as Jaces arms feel just so welcoming and calming.

Alicent Hightower:

Alicent had always been like a mother to you. Caring for you when you were sick and making sure that you were always in your highest possible health. It was probably why she’d insisted since you were young to fully call her mother, even though you were not biologically related to her.

Whenever she heard about even the slightest of injuries though, she always worried relentlessly about the damage. Which is why when you appeared before her clutching a bleeding wound from your shoulder, you’re quite honestly surprised she hadn’t dropped from shock.

“Oh my darling what has happened?!” She’d gasped, frozen in shock as she stood there not knowing what really to do.

“Bastards on their boats took a few shots at me and Shrykos whilst we were on our morn flight. They got two good shots at us to hurt us but don’t worry. Before we got here Shrykos managed to give them what was coming for them…” You groan, holding your shoulder in your hand that has now from the lack of adrenaline, has begun aching dramatically.

“Oh never mind the men I care only about you!” She fusses, coming closer before stopping half way, staring between your shoulder and your pained face. Maybe Alicent will drop from shock after all.

“SOMEBODY GET THE MAESTERS!” You hear a voice yell, before all appears to go dark before your eyes. When you wake though, it is as if the light is blinding you. You blink a few times to ground yourself, and it’s with a sudden surprise you realise that you feel a familiar warmth on your hand. You turn your head slightly, stiff from the lack of movement you think, and realise Alicent is staring at you with great worry on her face.

“Are you feeling alright my darling? The maesters have cleaned and sewed up your wound, but according to them it shall take a while for it to fully heal. You must tell me dear girl, in detail, what happened out there. What did those people do to you?”

“After me and Shrykos took off, we flew to the stormlands. We were drifting round shipbreaker bay, when those men the council warned us over took notice. Crossbows the size of my arm began shooting at us mother, so I am grateful they managed to get me and Shrykos only once.” At the mention of your dragon, your face turns to worry. Yet before you say anything, your mother quickly moves to interrupt you.

“Your dragon is safe my love. The dragon keepers have been keeping me up to date on her healing, and she is steadily heading to full recovery. The arrow has been removed fully, and the wound has stopped bleeding.” She says, her face betraying her as she is unable to hide her distaste of your dragon.

“Thank you mother, I appreciate the consideration. I know you have no love for Shrykos, nor any of your children’s dragons.” You say, your honesty true as you smile in thanks and understanding.

“You’re welcome my heart…” Your mother smiles, her hand reaching out to hold yours. Which while you admittedly want to shy away from, yet you push through your discomfort to allow your mother this moment that you know your adoptive sister would not have allowed.

“I do not want you to fly unaccompanied anymore my heart,” Alicent begins, shushing your with a single movement when she sees you about to harshly protest. “I have discussed this with your brothers and sister, and they have all agreed. Aemond has already taken the duty on his ever eager shoulders, and has said he will ride with you tomorrow morn at your usual time. It may be in your best interest to thank him next time you see him.”

“Of course mother…” You sigh, already dreading Aemonds smug face and wanting to punch it. Yet you withhold yourself from groaning out loud only from your mother’s sake, who is still holding your hand with intended comfort, even though she is doing nothing but make your blood pump fast around your body. Still, you say nothing. Allowing her to believe she is comforting you with a motherly smile on her face.

Daemon Targaryen:

Daemon had always possessed an amusingly short temper. It was especially tested though whenever it regarded to you. Whenever you got yourself hurt as a child, whether than was to do with training or just an accident in the halls, he always demanded to know the man behind your pain. It’s why you weren’t at all surprised when he reacted that same way when you flew back to Dragonstone and stumbled towards him with an arrow stuck in your shoulder blade.

“Who has dared to harm you zaldritzos? Tell me so I can show them what the exact consequence is for messing with a dragon. I am sure caraxes is already fuelled with my anger alone and is ready to face those who dares spill such precious blood.” Daemon snarls, his face unable to hide its anger as he holds your body steady so it won’t suddenly collapse.

“Bastards from the bloody ships on the bloody sea. Got us good… got us good…” You slur, every word feeling forced from your very gut as your eyes grow heavier and heavier.

“Don’t you dare close those eyes zaldritzos! Don’t you fucking close them!” You hear him snarl once more. But still, you cannot resist the temptation of sleep as you disobey your father and close your eyes.

When you find yourself waking, it is Daemon is standing by you while you slept. His eyes hard and stern as they observe you.

“I suppose you’re mad?” You can’t help but say. Your face admittedly ashamed as you stare to the floor, unable to hold his stare.

“Of course I am mad!” He yelled, refusing to allow you to turn your head away as he forces you to make eye contact with him. “My daughter has gone out without telling me, and she has gotten herself hurt the same way soldiers are hurt in wars!”

“I am sorry father!” You say, tears brimming in your eyes as the disappointed and anger shines through his. “I cannot control where those bastard men sail-“

“But you can control where you fly!” Daemon yells back. His voice rough and frustrated as the inner dragon inside him comes out. “I have taught you better than this zaldritzos! I have been teaching you how to ride that dragon of yours since you were a mere child! So why was it you were no doubt flailing about the sky like an amateur, when I know you could have done better?!”

“I’M NOT LIKE YOU!” You shout, shoving your father away as he stares at you with an expressionless face. “I am not a great leader, or a great dragon rider! I am still learning father! My lessons have not yet stopped being taught! Those men on the ships who shot at us were the ones you had warned us about. The ones claiming our great traditions to be an abomination and deserving of punishment. Me and Shrykos did not know their affiliation as we flew above them. Only when the arrows began to fly for our heads did we realise… I got an arrow in the shoulder, which has now since been removed. Shrykos though listened perfectly and managed to get out of there without any particularly damaging wounds. Still, my anger shon through her, and we managed to light the whole of the fleet up in flames before we flew back home. Where of course, you found me…”

Daemon is silent throughout your rant, yet by the end, when you’re breathless with how quickly you spoke, his hand is placed on your non-injured arm in an unfamiliarly comforting manner.

“I know you are not like me zaldritzos. While I have made you in my image, I hardly expected it to be your only outcome. You have become strong. You have become a fearsome warrior able to bring honour to our family name and our ancestors. I suppose… I may have forgotten that I too have made mistakes. I am sorry zaldritzos…”

The tears that had brimmed earlier in your eyes now tear down your face now that you hear your fathers words. His pride. So you do the only thing you can think of at that moment to show your appreciation. You take your arms and place them around Daemons waist, pulling him into a hug where your head is against his chest. Thankfully his arms seem to automatically go around your own body, and you can’t help but find this act comforting and safe.

“Thank you…” You can’t help but murmur.

“I would never let anything hurt you…” He murmurs back. Words which to anyone else may sound meaningless, but to you, you know they hide your father’s true feeling of care.

Rhaenyra Targaryen:

Rhaenyra had always been a sort of mother to you. A light to guide you in the darkest of your days. Whenever you took ill or had an injury, it was always she who stood by your bed, holding your hand in her own. Even though both husbands and loyal guards warned her of her possibly falling ill herself. Not that she ever did somehow though.

It was like that now. That afternoon, you had decided on a whim to take Shrykos on a fight around the coasts bordering the land surrounding Dragonstone. Yet it seems you coincidentally forgot Daemons talk about the rising threat of a religious group following faithfully the followings of the seven, as you tried to fly past them calmly and peacefully. Shrieking in fear when you realise it was not a harmless fly that flew past your face just now, but a very deadly steel-tipped arrow.

You barely made it out of there alive. The only injuries you yourself sustaining being a few arrow nicks on your shoulders, and the worse of it being a shallow puncture from one of the few successful shots. Shrykos though took most of the hits. Her rage seething the more those pathetic men tried to harm both her and her rider. It was quite satisfying you must say, when you flew away with the fresh smell of burning corpses still behind you, lingering on your clothes.

Yet when you got back home and were standing in front of your mother, that satisfaction quickly changed to a strange sort of guilt when you see her horror struck face.

“What has happened my darling!” She tells, taking ahold of your arm to look at your injury while you yell at her to try and say you were fine, even though you wince as soon as she yanks you towards her.

“Bloody men on the coast of Gull Town decided to shoot at us from their fucking boats. They got only a few good shots before Shrykos managed to get to them. By the time we left, we ensured they became fire and ash. I doubt there are any men alive after that….” You say, barely able to stand as the sudden blood loss reaches you.

You’re barely able to think as your mother brings you to the castle hanging on her shoulder. Soon, maesters surround you whilst your mother fusses by your bed to the left of you. She insists and demands certain things, but by the end, your grateful to feel the pain in your arm significantly lessen not only due to the lack of wooden arrow, but also due to the large amount of milk of the poppy that was pretty much forced down your throat.

“Is it all better now my darling?” Your mother asks, putting your hand between her own to soothe you as if you were a small child who’d scuffed their leg falling on some loose gravel.

“It is fine mother!” You insist. Even smiling as you play the part of the healthy child, able to bounce back from any injuries. Yet somehow she can still manage to see through your facade.

“Are you sure?” She asks again. Her brow raised in questioning as she makes you feel like a young child again. Small, and helpless as you cry to mother.

“Yes I am fine!” You firmly say, taking your hand from hers and placing it on the cold clinical bed sheets. Already missing the familial warmth your mother’s hands had provided you with. “I do not need you pressing!”

“Okay my love. I believe you.” Rhaenyra smiles, acknowledging her child’s want for independence. Moving from the chair she previously had sat on so she can place a quick kiss to the top of your head and smile fondly at the way your nose scrunches. “I will leave you now my love. The maesters had said you’ll fully heal by the moons next turn, but you’re fit to leave the bed tomorrow morn. I’ll visit you then.”

As quick as Rhaenyra leaves, you find yourself already wanting her motherly touch to tell you it’s okay. Your legs tucking under your chin as you hold yourself under the covers, letting your eyes shut so hopefully you’re able to wake up tomorrow by your mother’s voice.

Helaena Targaryen:

Compared to all your other family members, it has always been Helaena you were closest too. A close bond forging between the two of you since girlhood that not once has ever been broken.

You were with her when she claimed Dreamfyre, just as she was there for you when you claimed Shrykos. You also made sure to try and be with her whenever she experienced one of her, moments.

Yet that morning, you were way too busy trying to get ready for your usual morn flight to be with her when she took what the queen would call, a funny turn.

‘Blood of the dragon lost twice over. Beware the boats from bellow filled with men of hate.’

She’d seen your injury and the fire coming from your dragons mouth, and being the anxious person she was, she waited at the dragon keeps entrance with her hands fiddling with each other.

When you fly in holding your arm to try and stem the blood, getting off with difficultly as you try and not fall, you almost scare yourself when you turn and suddenly find yourself face to face with Helaena, who holds a bandage ready to treat you with it.

“Give me your arm…” She softly asks, waiting for you to release your arm from your grip so she can slowly and carefully take the arrow from your arm, choosing to ignore your vocal cries of pain so she can make sure to get the arrow out. When she does, she chooses to just drop the bloody wooden chunk to the floor so she can quickly wrap your now gushing wound, which she cleans with a slightly damp clothe that can’t have been out of the water bowl for long.

“What happened?” She asked while she cleaned your red streaked arm.

“Do you remember those men Aemond warned us about? The ones who hate us for our heritage?” You ask, waiting to hear Helaena unique hum to show she’s truly listening. “Well when I was flying by Tarth, those men were in there boats and obviously spotted me before I spotted them. So they shot at me till they hit me.” You shrug, regretting it soon as you did as you hiss at the sudden flare up of pain.

“It’ll hurt badly. I didn’t manage to take any milk of the poppy from the maesters, so we’ll probably need to visit them soon.” Helaena simply says, giving you a smile before she takes your hand in her own. An act you cannot say in words how much it means to you, given how you know of her usual revulsion for physical touch.

So you stay silent. Allowing her to lead you to the maesters with a small smile on your face, that is wiped right off when you become face to face with them. They stare at your with judgement and soulless eyes as they remove you from Helaenas comforting warmth and instead force you to feel cold metal against your flesh. They ignore you as they unwrap the bandages. Only giving each other looks as they wordlessly judge the state of your body.

It almost makes you want to tear their heads from their bodies and feed them to Shrykos. Who no doubt is feeling your frustrations and anger down in the dragon pit.

Yet you hold your tongue for Helaenas sake, who is watching the maesters take supposed special care of you from the corner of the room. She gives you small smiles whenever you make eye contact, and it’s only with them you manage to pull through. The milk of the puppy though they force down your throat certainly makes you more cooperative though you must say.

“Thank you Hel, for looking after me.” You say, staring at her as soon as the maesters deemed you healed enough and left you. No doing to go get the queen to inform her of your sudden injury.

“It is no problem…” She softly smiles back, moving forward to stand next to you so she can hold your hand in her own. Her soft flesh relaxing you possibly even more than the drugs flowing through your system. “I will always be there for you…”

Laenor Valeryon:

Even though you always knew that Laenor could never truly be your father, he nonetheless always managed to act like one better than anyone. While your mother was busy attending to your brothers, it was Laenor who was always busy attending to you, making sure you were fussed in a way a princess should be fussed.

He always made sure to give you the bestest care a princess may need it. Like right now for instance.

“I NEED A MAESTER RIGHT FUCKING NOW!” You remember your father screaming while your vision slowly began to blur in a variety of difference places. “Where are you hurt ñuha nūmio? Where is the pain? What can I do?”

“Arrow in the fucking shoulder.” You groan, bile building in your throat as you resist the urge to vomit. “Only there father. Shrykos was hit too. Fuck it hurts so much…”

“Do not worry dear girl! The maester will come!” As he says this, guards come running with a maester in tow. The guards take ahold of you carefully as you nearly collapse under the sudden blood rush. The maester barking orders for what to do to you to cause the least amount of damage to your body as possible.

When you get to the healing room, you’re placed roughly onto a bed where now a whole group of maesters now flock to you like a group of crows over a fresh carcass. They all say a different method on how to treat you, yet it’s Laenor whose voice shines louder than them all.

“You will not cut up or harm my daughter!” He yells, his voice firm and harsh as he glares at them all. “You will take out that fucking arrow, and you will heal her. Or I swear, as the heir of the realms husband, I’ll make all of you fucking regret it!”

All is silent, and yet with a firm glare they all scatter to complete your father’s order. Soon, cloth is finding its way in your mouth to quench your screams as hands force the arrow once imbedded in your arm is forced onto a silver plate. Blood gushing down your arm in an admittedly disturbing manner.

By the end, there is an elder looking maester stitching up your blood coated arm, and an arrow head and some wood pieces. Laenor held your hand with every scream and every clench of your body. He made sure you felt as safe as you could in the presence of the same type of men who killed your aunt. He also made sure to quickly push them out as soon as they were done with there work. Nodding along in a dismissive manner as they insist they are still needed.

When they are eventually shushed away however, with the door shut quickly behind them, Laenor quickly finds himself by your side again. His hand laced firmly in yours as he takes a lone damp cloth so he can clean away the dried blood still decorating your wounded flesh.

“Does it hurt much? I can always call a maid to fetch you some milk of the poppy?” Laenor insisted, his touch delicate as he makes sure not to harm you in any way.

“It merely stings…” You shrug, wincing though soon as you do due to the sudden flare up in your shoulder. “I do not need any milk of the poppy father. I can manage my pain.”

“I can see that…” He grins, even chuckling when he sees your own smile. “Though, I must ask. What happened? You did not exactly give me much information before the maesters came for us.”

“Me and Shrykos began our normal journey to the direction of Runestone. But on the coast of Gull town, it appears those men mother had recently warned us about, the ones who deem our customs immoral and a disgrace to a seven, spotted us before we spotted them. They took no time before they were shooting at us with giant crossbows on their ship. They took us by surprise, and managed to get only a single time, but that was enough to enact Shrykos’ rage. I didn’t even say the command father! Shrykos enacted our joined rage and set fire to their ships and their bodies. If they weren’t dead by the time we left, I am almost sure they are all at least dead by now.”

He takes in your words carefully. Murmuring small words every so often while he holds your hand as a sigh of sympathy. When your done though, his face is smeared in deep anger. A hatred you have never seen your father show ever before in your lifetime.

“Well it’s a good think they are dead though,” He finally says, snapping from his thoughts with a huff. “Because if they were alive, Seasmoke would be gorging on a feast right now!”

“Thank you father…” You simply say, falling into his arms that welcome you immediately. You close your eyes and allow yourself to bask in his familiar comforting warmth.

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watermelonlovershigh · 4 months ago

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Aftercare {part. 15} (housemate!harry series) (SMUT)

Long Awaited Punishment {part. 14} (housemate!harry series) (SMUT)

AN: disclaimer- i've never been in subspace so i have no real experience with what it's truly like. in this chapter i'm writing how i've seen others write about it and based off some things i've read. so it may not be 100% accurate but that's okay because this story is made up anyways. i hope you enjoy and don't forget to leave your feedback. xoxo

This story contains: aftercare, talks of anal sex (pegging), subspace, male sub/female dom, crying, peeing (in a toilet, of course), comfort

{ housemate!harry - boyfriendrry - softrry - au!harry - subrry - dom!reader }

word count- 2,664

After a night of dominated Harry, you give him great aftercare with a relaxing bath and your nurturing demeanor.

Previously-

You slowly remove the strap-on from his body, which causes him to cry out more intensely for a moment, and then you carefully pull your end out as well. Despite feeling just as drained as you believe Harry is, you understand that the dominant role comes with responsibilities. The key responsibility is aftercare, and you conclude that the first step in providing aftercare tonight is to help Harry calm down.

-Continuing

You adjust your position on the bed, moving so you're no longer behind Harry, allowing him to see you and recognize your presence. His eyes remain closed, tears streaming down his face and soaking the pillow beneath him. You lean closer, softly caressing his wet cheek with your gentle hands. "Shh, it's okay. You did such a good job, baby. It's okay. I'm gonna take care of you now."

Your words have not yet registered in Harry's mind, but the gentle sound of your voice causes his eyes to open slightly. He stares at you, and it's evident that he's not entirely present; he seems to be in a state of subspace. His gaze appears to look past you rather than directly at you. While you may not have extensive knowledge of subspace, you're committed to helping Harry return to the moment. You want to provide him with lots of cuddles and let him know how safe he is with you.

The first step into helping him come back down to earth is a nice bath, you think. It'll also be beneficial because you both are actually sweaty and need to wash off the smell of sex from your bodies. As you go to climb out of bed, Harry mutters his first words since entering an alternate state of mind. "No, don't leave me."

You turn to face him as he clutches your wrist, and the look on Harry's face is nearly one of alarm. "Hey, hey," you reassure him, "I’m not going anywhere, I promise. I’m just going to run a bath for us, alright? I’ll return shortly." Harry hesitantly releases your wrist, his gaze following you as you step out of your bedroom, heading off to an unknown location. Even though you had just informed him of your plans, he struggled to hear you clearly, as the intensity of his orgasm still reverberates in his ears.

In a brisk manner, you enter the only bathroom in the house and turn on the bathtub. You hastily hang up two towels on the rack beside the bathtub and set the soaps you'll need on the edge of the tub. Once the water is running, you return to your room where you find Harry crying on your bed, lying on his back, unclothed and exposed.

He had finally stopped crying before you left to get the bath ready, so him crying once again has you worrying. Stepping to the side of the bed, you ask slowly, "Harry, why the tears? Everything's okay."

With his hearing slowly coming back, he's able to understand your words enough to answer, "You......you left me." Another sob leaves his throat and it brings tears to your own eyes. You know he's only acting this way because of how intense everything just was but it still saddens you to see him so upset.

You climb back onto the bed and straddle Harry. You then lean down to wrap him in a tight embrace. Initially, his arms lie loosely at his sides on the mattress, but he eventually raises them to encircle your back. He truly needed this moment of comfort. The weight of your body helps to anchor him in reality, and the sensation of your naked skin against his intensifies his feelings of vulnerability.

"Shhh, I'm right here. I have the bath running for us. Would you like to join me and relax?" Harry gives a timid nod in response. You carefully detach yourself from atop his body, which he seems to dislike, and take hold of his large hands, aiding him in rising from the bed. He's initially a bit unsteady, his mind still disoriented, but with your help he soon finds his balance and walks toward the bathroom with you.

As you start to lead him towards the now filled tub and turn the tap off, Harry stops you and quietly inquires, "Um, can I have a wee first? Gotta wee."

You smile up at your boyfriend with affection and answer, "Yeah, of course. I'll step out to give....."

Before you could finish, he blurts, "No, don't leave. S'...... turn away, I guess." The last thing Harry wants is for you to leave him again. He doesn't care that he has to pee, in his current state of mind, there's no embarrassment in his body.

Turning around, you find yourself staring at the floral wallpaper while unintentionally hearing the sound of Harry pissing in the toilet. After what seems like an excessively long time, Harry finishes and flushes before you turn back to help him step into the tub. You enter first, allowing Harry to follow, which allows his body to lean against yours. While the tub is not particularly large, it offers just enough room for both of you to relax and move around without discomfort.

As the warm water envelops you both, Harry lets out a sigh, surrendering to the comfort that surrounds him. The warmth of the bath water, your body resting against his back, and the gentle scratching of your fingers on his scalp create a peaceful setting. He's nearly asleep when you speak softly, "Hey, don’t fall asleep on me. I need you to come back to me, alright Harry?"

Although Harry continues to experience a slight mental haze, he predominantly feels as though he's returned to reality. His thoughts are becoming clearer, and he's beginning to recall the majority of the events from this evening. However, the manner in which you're currently treating him makes him want remain in a submissive mindset for a bit longer. But, he understands that he should let you know he's back, present mentally, to avoid causing you any more concern. You've never observed anyone in a state of subspace before.

"M' back, baby. Just really like it when you talk to me all soft and baby me. Feels nice."

You sigh in relief. "Thank God, you worried me there for a second. With all your crying."

"I cried?" Harry turns his head from where it rests on your chest and questions.

"You don't remember, Harry? What do you remember?"

Turning back around to face forward, he pauses to gather his thoughts before replying, "I remember you teasin' me. Then you briefly sat on my face. After that, you fucked me so hard I came from both my cock and my prostate. Then my memory jumps to havin' a wee and gettin' in the tub where we are now." It appears Harry blacked out following his orgasm, which is quite fascinating. You wonder if there will ever come a time when you can enter subspace with him, if you're even able to. You know not everyone can get into a subspace.

"You had a prostate orgasm? Didn't know that was possible."

"Hh-mh, some men can, others can't. Though technically all men can achieve one, it's a matter of stimulatin' it just right and allowin' your body to embrace the stimulation. Why do you think I like anal sex so much? Yeah I enjoyed havin' sex with men and the presence of a male figure because m' attracted to them, but really anyone can fuck me and if done right, it feels so - fuckin' - good, man or women. Even fucked myself in the past. Doesn't feel as good but it's good enough."

While you recline against the tub, Harry positioned in front of you, you quietly take in his words. The exploration of anal sex for men is a captivating topic in your opinion. In your past relationships and hookups, the men you were with typically shunned any contact with their bums, associating it with being gay. Most men are determined to avoid any accusations of being seen as gay. Because of their stubborn ways of viewing things, they remain unaware that if they were to try anal sex, they might find it quite enjoyable, especially if it's as pleasurable as Harry says it can be.

In all honesty, you probably wouldn't have had any desire to participate in giving anal to your previous partners. The only reason you were open in doing so with Harry is that you feel at ease around him and are confident in his hygiene practices. Otherwise, you would have kept your distance from that aspect of Harry as well.

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

After a few minutes of silence, you become aware that the water is cooling down and decide it's time to actually wash up before settling into bed. You sit up from your position against the back of the tub to retrieve the soap, which causes Harry to also sit up. In doing so, he lets out a sharp hiss, prompting you to worry. "Are you okay, H? Are you hurting anywhere?" Given the intensity of your actions tonight, it wouldn't be unexpected for him to experience some soreness in his joints and, other areas.

Feeling slightly embarrassed, Harry admits, "M' bums a bit sore, s'all. But it's not your fault. It typically happens when I get fucked or pegged as well as havin' gotten spanked. It'll go away in a day or two."

Despite the lingering worry within you, you accept his reassuring words and start applying soap to the washcloth. Once the cloth is well-lathered, you begin gliding it over his body, though there's certain areas he has to wash on his own due to your position behind him. After making sure his body is clean, you take the old cup located by the tub and drizzle water over Harry's head to wet his hair. You're uncertain why you opted to cleanse his body first, but it doesn't matter at this point.

Ensuring his hair is nicely wet, you take a generous amount of shampoo and apply it to your hands before working it into his brown locks. In your effort to pamper him, you massage your soapy fingers into his scalp, prompting Harry to moan softly. When you feel you've given his scalp enough attention, you lift the cup again and instruct Harry to lean his head back to keep the soap out of his eyes. He follows your directions, just as he did in the bedroom earlier, leaning back as you carefully rinse the shampoo from his hair.

Once you've finish bathing him, you swiftly wash your own body before pulling the drain plug and aiding each other in standing up in the tub. You're the first to step out, taking your towel off the hook to dry yourself off before wrapping it around your naked body. You then take Harry's towel and move towards the shivering, tattooed man. Assisting him onto the bath mat, you ask, "Are you cold, baby?"

Nodding as his teeth chatter, he stands there while you dry his wet body off. "Ye...yeah."

When Harry's body is completely dry and his hair is only damp, you ask another question. "Do you wanna wear a pair of briefs or sleep naked?"

"Naked, please." Of course he'd choose sleeping naked.

With your towel still secured around your body and Harry's towel held tightly in your hands, you open the bathroom door to discover an adorable sight at your feet. Harry's cat Pixie is comfortably sprawled out on the floor just outside the bathroom door. It seems she's been patiently waiting for you to emerge so that she could receive some affection. Upon noticing his cat, Harry lets out a soft coo, bending down to pick her up.

"Pixie, sweetheart, were you waitin' for us? Have we failed to give you the attention you deserve this evenin'? M' sorry. Mummy gave me all the attention tonight and she's so sorry too." Your eyes nearly pop in disbelief when you hear Harry refer to you as the mother of his cat. You don't dislike being called Pixie's mum. In fact, your affection for Pixie has grown immensely since you've been living in Harry's home. However, the reference makes you envision a time when that cat is a human baby, and he calls you mummy because you truly are a mother to a child you've brought into existence.

Snapping out of those thoughts, you smile up at Harry as he gently holds Pixie in his arms and proceeds to follow you to his room. The decision to sleep in his bedroom for the night is probably influenced by the state of your bed, which is soaked with bodily fluids, and your current fatigue giving you no energy to deal with that situation tonight. Thus, you'll be sleeping in Harry's room. Which is fine because you often flip back and forth between sleeping in your room or his.

While he walks around the bed completely naked, his cat still in his embrace, the slight limp in his walk is hard to miss, presumably due to his sore bum. You can't help it when you let out a laugh, prompting Harry to look at you from where he stands on the right side of his bed. "What? What's s' funny?"

"It's just..... your walk. Looks like you've......"

Harry interrupts you, completing your sentence with a sleepy grin. "Looks like v' what? Been fucked in the ass? Because I did get fucked in the ass, by my hot, sexy, confident, girlfriend." He sets Pixie down softly at the foot of the bed, where she curls into a tight ball. You let your towel fall away as both of you slip beneath the duvet, naked and vulnerable only to each other. A worry crosses your mind that Pixie may get scarred seeing so much nakedness, but Harry assures you that she's seen far worse things than just naked people and that's something you'd rather not think about.

As you reach to turn off the lamp that sits on the nightstand beside the bed, you're taken aback when Harry shifts over and lays half his body on top of you. Although you don't mind the closeness, a little warning would have been appreciated. His head rests on your right collarbone, with a significant portion of his body draped over you, his right leg positioned between your legs. He casually throws his right arm over your left shoulder, gently tracing the soft, bare skin in a calming manner.

Before Harry drifts off to sleep, you whisper in the dark room, "I love you. Hope you enjoyed tonight and I hope I took care of you enough after, when you were in, um, subspace."

With his eyes shut, Harry murmurs in response, "You were incredible, m'love. The sex, the aftercare, everythin' was perfect. You attended to my needs so well while you were in control and even afterwards in the bathtub. But, just wait; my turn is comin' up. I plan to have you wear those vibratin' panties you purchased throughout the day, teasin' and edgin' you, before I completely rock your world in the bedroom."

You smile at his sweet words but then lose the smile after hearing his promise to you. "Not in the ass though, right?"

"Hm? Me fuckin' you in the ass?" You hum a yes and Harry continues, "Well, not unless you want me to. I can, but I honestly wasn't even thinkin' of that when I said I was gonna rock your world. We'd only do what you're comfortable with."

"Yeah, I'd need some time to think about letting you try anal on me first. Maybe one day, but no promises. Otherwise, I can't wait."

You both end up drifting off to sleep, pressed together, naked, and dreaming of what's to come next in your growing relationship.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(if you want to be apart of my new tag list, let me know right here !! )

tag list: @swiftmendeshoran // @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite // @hsonlyangelxo // @lunabai // @ppleasingg // @harryscherrysugar

______________

My Masterlist Masterpost

A Trip to the ER {part. 16}

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starogeorgina · 5 months ago

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐢𝐧

Warnings: Incest

Pairing: Cregan Stark × reader, Aemond Targaryen × reader

1.03

The hour was late, and there was not a soul aside from yourself and Prince Jacaerys in the guest house in Winterfell, so you were able to speak freely with each other away from any prying eyes. Your nephew's most recent revelation causes unexpected feelings of grief and sympathy to unfold.

The poisonous actions of your own family had spread so far it caused Rhaenyra to go into premature labor. “My condolences, Jacaerys. I did not know your mother had lost her babe.”

“Did word not reach the keep?”

“If it did, I was not informed.” You sigh, “Losing a babe is a lonely experience. I wouldn’t wish on my worst foe.”

“You speak as if you know this from experience?”

You feel a sudden chill; the only light in the room was from the candles on the table and the flames from the fireplace. Even in the dim light, you can make out the glossiness in his eyes; he was fighting to hold back tears. “A few years ago I had a babe that came early, a girl. I was going to call her Visenya.” You scoff, “Perhaps the name is cursed.”

“I’m sorry.”

The dead girl's birth was more painful than Maitland’s. The maester had no understanding of what caused the premature birth; the only thing you knew for sure was that you were completely alone. “I couldn’t bring myself to say it,” your voice begins to crack. “At her funeral, I couldn’t bear the thought of my own dragon being the one to set my tiny daughter pyre on fire, so Aegon commanded Sunfyre to do it.”

The mention of your brother causes Jacaerys to tense up. He looks furious.

“I know you think he is a monster, but he was the only one who helped me through my grief.”

Confused, he asks, “What about your mother, husband, or Helaena?”

You sit back in the hard wooden chair and smile at the mention of your sister. “Helaena is the most kindhearted and gentle of us, but she doesn’t cope well with death. It took her three moons for her to speak with me again, and even then my sweet sister only spoke in riddles.”

“What about Alicent?”

You lift the cup of wine sitting you had yet to touch to your lips in a poor attempt to hide the involuntary scoff. You rarely saw eye to eye with your husband, but your mother being untrustworthy was something you always agreed upon. “I have kept her at arm’s length and have for many years, trusting nought that she says.”

Jacaerys looks horrified. He was struggling to understand what it must be like to have a family that did not care much for one another.

“Do not fret, my prince,” you say reassuringly. “Not all mothers can care for their children in the way they perhaps wish they could.”

“Was Aemond not there to comfort you?”

Visenya’s death is what completely shattered your marriage. The broken feeling of sitting in your bedchamber alone after the silent sisters came for your daughter still haunted you. Not only should Aemond have been mourning with you, if he was there, they wouldn’t have taken Visenya away from you so soon. You prayed he would burst through the door when the midwives ripped the dead babe you had been cradling from your arms, but he never came.

He was with his whore, missing everything.

When Aemond returned and the maester told him what happened, he beat his knuckles bloody against the wall and only stopped when Ser Criston managed to restrain him.

“No, he was not,” you finally take a large gulp of the bitter-smelling wine. “My brother Daeron is kind, but he lives in OldTown. He wrote to me more than usual, but it was only Aegon who visited me when I was inconsolable.”

Jace says nothing.

“It’s not Aegon’s fault; all of this was my grandsire, Criston, and the men that sit in their council. They were the ones who plotted for years.”

“And your mother? Was she not the ringleader of the rightful queen being usurped?”

“My mother thinks she has a voice in the council, but she is yet to see that it was only possible previously because the king allowed it.”

“How did King Viserys die? Daemon thinks he was poisoned.”

“Perhaps he was.” You look down at the smallest candle and watch as the last of the wax melts away. “Will the queen be merciful when she sits upon the throne? Will she spare Helaena?”

“If you bend the knee, she will gladly take you into her heart, all of you. Our family doesn’t need to be torn apart.”

“It's not only our family who’s been affected. We’ve turned brother against brother. Ser Erryk is on Dragonstone while Ser Arryk remains in the keep. The kingdom's divide has already begun within the kingsguard. I dread to see what will become of the small folk.”

“When my mother takes kings landing, Daemon’s first act will be to hang all those who betrayed her, including the kingsguard who remain loyal to Aegon.”

“It’s not so simple, Jacaerys. Ser Arryk, he only stayed because he’s sworn to me, to my son. Not because he agrees with what happened. Everyone knows my father chose his line of succession; he wanted Rhaenyra on the throne then for you to be king.” You lean your arm over the table and take Jacaerys hand. “If I tell you something of value, you must promise that you’ll never say you heard it from me.”

“What—”

“Swear it.”

He nods, “Yes, I swear it.”

You let go of his hand; tears threaten to spill from your eyes. “On the day he was crowned king, Aegon tried to flee. And he has considered doing it again, but my mother and grandsire have the keep-on lockdown. But it may be possible if someone helps him.”

“Who… you would help him leave?”

It felt like a betrayal discussing Aegon in such detail with another, but you needed Jacaerys to understand the blacks weren’t the only threat to your family. “I would, and not because I don’t believe your mother would spare his life if he bent the knee, but because I know what would happen if he did.”

A look of understanding passes his features. “His own men would turn on him.”

“If Aegon is gone, his son Jaehaerys is next in line. Healena does not want this for him; she will gladly hand the city over to Rhaenyra, and without bloodshed.”

“I have the feeling you are still withholding.”

“Of course I am,” you chuckle lightly as the tears you fought so hard to hold back finally fall. “I do not wish to send my own brother to death. I want to save him from being crushed under the weight of a crown he did not ask for.”

“Do you really think he’d leave his wife and children?”

“Yes,” you answer honestly. “He cares for the twins, but it didn’t stop him from trying to leave before.”

Jacaerys looks uncertain, but how could he not be? There were things you couldn’t tell him. You couldn’t begin to explain that you’ve seen the threat from the north, his mother sitting on the iron throne. The death of thousands by the hands of dragon flames. How you just knew your mother would betray Aegon one day.

“It’s late,” Jacaerys stands up. “We should both sleep and speak again tomorrow. Goodnight, princess.”

“Goodnight, nephew.”

When Jace leaves and you are alone, you begin to crumble. You desperately try to hide the sobs escaping your mouth; exhaustion and pent-up emotions are finally catching up. You pick up the small wooden toy sitting on the table and hold it tightly. Maitland had many toys, and you hope he wouldn’t seek the one you took to feel close to him until you return.

Hearing a soft knock at the door, you rub at your eyes, and presuming it’s Jacaerys, you open the door and are taken aback when it’s not him. “Lord Stark,” you step back to let him in. “Forgive my unladylike appearance; if I had known you were coming, I would have dressed more appropriately.”

Being in a nightgown and robe with only Jacaerys as company didn’t phase you, but in front of the Lord of Winterfell it was rather embarrassing.

“Forgive me, I saw the candlelight and presumed you were still awake... We can speak in the morrow.”

“No, my lord,” you cross your arms over your chest and smile. “It’s fine.”

He stares at you for a few seconds before continuing. “From the moment I returned to my chambers, my son has been all over me. Apparently he’s going to meet the bronze fury.

You smile. “He asked today if he could come with me to see the dragons, but I wanted to check with you first.”

“I—can you assure he won’t get hurt?”

“No dragon can ever be completely tamed, but their emotions are entwined with their riders. And since I hold no ill-will towards your son, he’ll be safe.”

“Okay, he may go with you.” He reaches to open the door. “I best be going; try and get what little sleep I can, as I’m sure Rickon will be up early with excitement.”

“Goodnight, Lord Stark.”

“Cregan,” he locks eyes with you. “When it’s just us, you can call me my first name.”

Mother above, you could only imagine the look on the dowager queen's face if she heard a lord give you leave to speak his name.

“And when it’s just us, you may still refer to me as princess, Cregan.”

He smirks at your teasing. “I’ll see you in the morrow, princess.”

—

𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘈𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳. 𝘎𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘶𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦. 𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘺—𝘧𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘺.

𝘏𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘴, 𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘪��𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦. 𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘳 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦, 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘮 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘱𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘸�� 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦.

��𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥’𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳-𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘚𝘺𝘭𝘷𝘪. 𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘳𝘢𝘳𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘶𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘧𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘴.

𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘈𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘵.

𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘯𝘦𝘸𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘚𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘮’𝘴 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘞𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘭, 𝘈𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘵. 𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘸𝘯, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘭 𝘳𝘶𝘯 𝘣𝘺 𝘮𝘦𝘯.

𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘱 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘥𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵, “𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘦.”

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘸, 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦. “𝘔𝘺 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘺—”

𝘏𝘦 𝘤𝘶𝘵𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺. “𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦?”

“𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘔𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘣𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘦𝘭. 𝘏𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘥 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦.”

“𝘐𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦?” 𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘯, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘦𝘵, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦’𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴.

"𝘕𝘰, 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶.”

“𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦.”

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘔𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘶𝘴𝘶𝘢𝘭, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘥. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘸𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩. 𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳.

𝘈𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘯’𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦; 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘶𝘱𝘴𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘔𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥. 𝘏𝘦 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯, “𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘐 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘶𝘱𝘴𝘦𝘵? 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳.”

𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘢𝘻𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘹𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘳. “𝘍𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦, 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦. 𝘞𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘔𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘥, 𝘸𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘵; 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘱𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘴 𝘺𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯.”

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘥, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘨. 𝘋𝘪𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯?

“𝘕𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦; 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦,” 𝘈𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘭𝘺.

“𝘠𝘦𝘴, 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦,” 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴.

𝘉𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘭𝘺, 𝘈𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘴 𝘔𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘥.

“𝘞𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘝𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘺 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯?”

“𝘐 𝘴𝘢𝘸 𝘝𝘩𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭,” 𝘔𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘭𝘺. “𝘈𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮.”

𝘈𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦𝘴, “𝘍𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘵; 𝘯𝘰 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘝𝘩𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘳. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥.”

“𝘐 𝘴𝘢𝘸 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘦𝘳.”

—

“As you say it’s difficult with sons, I dare say I spoil my boy. He’s inherited most things from me, even the things I wish he did not.” You lean against the wooden bannister, standing beside Lord Stark, watching as Rickon plays with his direwolf on the snow below. “Your son, Rickon, is a very kind boy; you must be proud.”

“Northerners are born hardened; it’s in our nature, but I do sometimes regret my son not having the softness of a woman to help guide him. But as you say, he is kind, and that’s all I could ask for.” Hearing the Lord of Winterfell speak of his son in such a way was bittersweet. You didn’t doubt Aemond’s love for Maitland, but your son being kind wouldn’t be high on his priority. “And I’m sure the young prince is lucky to have a mother who loves him dearly.”

You clear your throat. “I find it rather fascinating how different things are outside the city I grew up in. A young lord or lady not marrying soon after their spouse dies is almost unheard of.”

“I could have,” he muses. “My marriage was political, but I was lucky; I grew to love my wife, Arra. She was soft-spoken and would sing a lot. I did not believe it would be possible to find another like her or anyone so deeply devoted to loving another woman’s son. The ladies I entertained with the idea of marrying showed little to no interest in Rickon, so I chose not to bring them into his life.”

You turn to face him and say, “Not many men would say that. Most of them would put desire above love and duty without a second thought.”

Cregan rests his arms beside you on the bannister and leans in ever so slightly, a mischievous smile pulling on his lips. “Tis possible for both to exist; even the most dutiful of men and women still have desires, princess.”

Heat creeps into your cheeks, and you can’t help but smile. “You wouldn’t have fared well growing up in the keep as a lady, my lord. I was taught if a woman had improper desires or urges, they were to go pray in the sept for forgiveness.”

You feel the warmth from his body when his broad shoulder brushes against your own. His voice is lower than before when he says, “Winterfell doesn’t have a sept to pray in.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Vermithor landing just outside the walls of Winterfell.

“I believe it’s time for Rickon to meet my dragon.”

—

True to your word, Rickon was unharmed when you took him to greet the bronze fury up close. You even flew around the outskirts of Winterfell three times before Vermithor landed beside Silverwing from the same location you left.

Rickon took your hand and excitedly pulled you through the castle grounds until he spotted Lord Stark and the maester, who were patiently waiting on him. As you watch the young boy go to attend his lessons, you jump, hearing a voice beside you.

“A morning he will never forget.”

“Nephew,” you take in his appearance. “Are you going hunting?”

“Yes, I’ve been invited to join several of the lords; however, I reckon whatever I catch will be devoured by Vermax.”

Jacaerys offers you his arm, which you take. “Very ill-tempered for a little thing, I imagine he will be formidable when fully grown.”

“Big enough to saddle two, so the dragon keepers say. I wanted to let you know the queen has written; she has refused Aegon’s terms.”

“What terms?”

He narrows his eyes, “the ones your grandsire, Otto Hightower, spoke of when he stepped foot on Dragonstone. Did you not know?”

“I was unaware he had even left the keep at any point.”

“The former queen claims me and my brothers will be treated kindly; after my own mother bends the knee.”

“Alicent speaks with two tongues.”

“I suspected as much. She spent years calling us bastards.” When you reach the stables where the other lord's horses are being prepared, he lets go of your arm. “Lord Stark isn’t going; I believe he is staying so he can speak with you in private.”

“I won’t go back on my word. I will do what I can to help your mother sit on the throne.”

He nods and begins to walk towards the stables.

“Jacaerys,” you call after him. “It’s true you don’t share the same features as your mother, but that does not make you a bastard.”

“Do not jest,” he says defensively.

“People will believe what they wish and may whisper behind your back, but it doesn’t change the fact you are of blood and fire,” you cup his cheek. “Ser Harwin had blue eyes. You have brown eyes, as did Ser Laenor.”

You almost feel guilty seeing the look in his eyes. Had the young boy not thought of this before? The rumors of Rhaenyra’s sons being bastards were most likely started, but those on the Green Council as another way to belittle and discredit a woman in a position of power. It is known Aegon has bastards, but not once has it ever been mentioned at court.

You are caught off guard when you turn to walk in the opposite direction, and Cregan is waiting for you. Smiling, you walk towards him, “my lord.”

“Princess, I was wondering if you care to join me in the godswood.”

“Of course.”

“I’m glad; I believe we have much to discuss.”

#house of the dragon #cregan stark/reader #cregan stark x you #cregan stark fanfiction #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark fanfic #Cregan Stark/you #Cregan Stark #the beauty of sin #house of the dragon fanfiction #aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #house of the dragon fanfic #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen/you #aemond targaryen/reader

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cheesus-doodles · 1 month ago

Text

Going Home: Chapter 5

Yandere Platonic Toman + Time Leaper Darling

Masterlist

‎‎

Going Home: Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

happy thanksgiving! sorry I fell off the earth for a while, died and the immigration queue back from hell took forever, read: took an unexpected hiatus from burnout :'(

Draken stood face to face with Baji, abyss eyes gazing back blankly at the other’s. Panting heavily despite the short distance covered by them both - Draken knew Baji’s shop was just a few streets away from here - their heavy breaths the only sound that echoed down empty residential streets.

A fucking time leaper.

Of all the bloody things in the world.

The thumping of his heart in his ears was hard and furious as Draken turned the information over and over in his head, again and again. It had to be true, what you told his past self. Everything lined up too well for it to not be: your sudden disappearances twelve years ago, your perpetual state of absence from their world, their inability to find even a lick of evidence that you existed somewhere out there save for those old pictures they had pinched from your house. You had simply been lost to the flow of time, drifting in and out of their timeline by some unknown means.

It was a blessing of rain on their gasping earth, this new information, no matter how big of a headache he had getting a blast of memories straight to the brain - you weren’t dead. You hadn’t left this earth, left them. There was still a chance to get you back, to make things right.

Far above his head, the flicker of a streetlight broke the stillness of the thick air, the tick of a clock inside a darkened shop indicating the seconds slipping by with every heaving breath Draken took. It was far too late on a weekday night to be awake in any other circumstance: there was work and school to attend to tomorrow, and the apartments towering above were dark and silent, its residents long asleep. Yet no matter how insignificant their struggles seemed in the face of the world that continued to turn - you were after all just another missing person among thousands of others - here they were, two former delinquents once known and feared for their might gathered like devout cultists. And for any unfortunate soul who might happen to look upon them, Draken mused, they could pass off as some sort of cultist, or madmen even - Baji wasn’t even wearing a shirt for fucks’ sake. The First Division Captain must have been asleep when the memories were cannonballed straight into his head, and had grabbed his apron out of instinct instead of a shirt. He, on the other hand, was at least clad in his working overalls, the wrench he had taken to a customer’s bike ten minutes ago still clutched in hand.

Letting out a shuddering breath, Draken forced himself to focus. There were more urgent questions that needed an answer over him dwelling on the could-bes. Like why now? Why the sudden recollection, an uncontrolled flare of memories that he didn’t previously have? Did something change, perhaps linked to you and your particular situation, that triggered these new memories in not only him but in Baji as well?

His mind instantly jumped back to four nights ago, when Takemichi had muscled his way back into his life unannounced, those flabby lips boldly asking after you and your whereabouts as if he had any right to do so. Sure, he had thought then that the questions being asked were strange and out of place, off-putting even, but now that he had the time to think and turn the meeting over, now more than ever, the former Toman Vice Captain was sure it couldn’t be a mere coincidence. It wasn’t possible.

Could it be that Takemichi knew about the new memories? Scratch that, did that scrawny little bastard know about you and your time leaping? Had the two of you met before without the Toman founders’ knowledge? And who was that other man that had been with Takemichi?

Baji’s train of thoughts, however, seemed to have gone down a slightly different path. “So that means that omamori - it didn’t work?” The pet shop owner’s almost panicked question broke Draken out from his pondering. “Did you lose it?”

Almost instinctively, Draken’s hand went to his neck, though the purple and gold charm hadn’t hung there in years. Where had that gone? Try as he might, his mind was blank, the bike-loving mechanic struggling to even recall the last time he had seen the small embroidered cloth. What happened to the omamori in the past twelve years? Had it been misplaced somewhere along the way? He hadn’t thought about it much, not since you went missing all those years ago. But how could he have just simply forgotten about something as important as that? Something that was so inherently…you? You had always been the one to bear the charm, a symbol of the place you once held at the center of Toman, a symbol of the protection its delinquent founders afforded you.

Either way, wherever the omamori had gone now, he was sure that right before you were lost to time - “I had it,” Draken mumbled. “I’m sure I had it with me when she went missing. The memory, I just got that.”

‎

The former First Division Captain of the Tokyo Manji Gang has had a long day. A long, tiring, annoying day. Running a pet shop while working towards his vet license was far from the easiest thing, and Baji had used up most of his energy between stopping himself from letting his notoriously short temper loose on several irritating customers who didn’t know how close they came to meeting the business end of his fists, and attempting to understand the absolutely convoluted material he needed to learn for one of many classes. So when he had finally tumbled into bed at the end of the day, exhausted and ready for the welcome of sleep, the last thing he expected was to have what felt like an ice pick to his head - a sudden blast of memories and recollections that the man couldn’t control, that he didn’t have before, that ached and burned as they bombarded his mind, settling between existing memories as if they had always been there.

It gave him a serious headache that no amount of ice could get rid off - which sucked a ton, of course - but even through the gnawing throb, it gave him a renewed sense of hope that Baji clung to like a drowning man to a life buoy. You weren’t dead. No, you were very, very much alive, even now while you were still lost to the grasp of time. The main question was why? Why were you still missing? They had it all figured out twelve years ago. Your disappearance was supposed to have been solved.

Baji’s hands moved to grab Draken by the front of his shirt, shaking the other man vigorously. “If you had it, then she shouldn’t be here,” the black-haired man snarled, his fists tightening around the rough material of the overalls. “She wouldn’t have gone missing twelve years ago.”

“There must be more to it then,” the man in the overalls muttered under his breath, one hand coming up to grasp his chin . “Maybe it’s not just the omamori.”

Something beyond the charm?

Yellow eyes scanned the surroundings as he contemplated the recent revelations. The alley where the two of them now stood held many bitter memories, given it was where you had disappeared from the first time, though the large grass patch a stone’s throw away wasn’t any more reassuring. It was where your school once stood, where he recalled picking you up from countless times from the curb, his loud motorbike drawing stares and shudders alike, where the Toman founders once regular gathered to dish out beatings to your schoolmates for their insolence towards you, where your life had revolved around.

The building was long gone, burnt down in an act of arson that the police declined to investigate, with the rumor mills pointed at organized crime - and this man could guess exactly which one. The black-haired former delinquent hesitated, before speaking again. “But what else? Intention?”

Draken brushed his questions off, those abyss eyes focusing. “This isn’t the time to figure this out, Baji. The new memories; it has to be because she time leapt again, which means -”

“She’s here.” Baji’s mind raced with the implications, his entire mind feeling as if it was on fire - once sleepy and exhausted from the day’s work but now running at full speed. That memory of you comforting the Toman founders after your return, telling them that you were a time leaper. You were alive for now, though it would be hard to say how long that would last - if you had truly time leapt and were now here, in their future, then the pet shop owner had yet to see head or toe of you. “The first time she went missing, where could she have gone?”

What was it that made you so reluctant to tell your friends what happened in the future?

Something seemed to click into place in Draken's brain, the growing horror on his face telling Baji everything he needed to know about the resolved puzzle. “Mikey.”

The sole name was uttered like the arriving finale of an apocalypse.

It made sense. You would do that - you would, if it was Mikey. If it was any of your beloved friends.

The two of them make a break for it as if on cue, sprinting towards the same destination with a wordless agreement; your house, Baji knew as he willed himself to go faster. It was where he was sure you would go if you were really here.

If you died here, in their future, would that also mean that you would also die back in the past where you came from? Would he never see you again? Your warm smile and loving hugs flashed through Baji’s mind, and he bit his tongue. No, that wasn’t a thought he was even going to entertain. Nothing close to that would even be the slightest bit acceptable. They were going to find you, and they were going to make sure you got home. Safely.

“How long has it been? Since the memories?”

“15 minutes.”

There was no response from Draken this time, though both men’s strides hastened, flying across the concrete as they rounded the corner almost at the same time, nearly crashing into each other, their curses flying free from their lips and into the night sky. There were a lot of things they needed to ask you, but now the most important thing was that they needed to get to you, before Mikey’s fingers could close around you.

‎

“Do you think she’s some sort of time traveler?”

Kakucho startled, blinking as he turned away from watching the familiar sights and sounds of Tokyo rushing by outside of the limousine. “Pardon?”

The ride from Bonten HQ had been completely silent up till now, the whirl of the air-conditioning combined with the light patter of rain having been just loud enough to cover the sound of the two men breathing. It was tense, and though that usually would be the right way to describe being in any sort of confined space with Sanzu, this time was different.

Despite the former Tenjiku member being one of two people who had what could be counted as a decent relationship with the other’s maniacal state, there was something about this rational pink-haired man that sent a shiver running down Kakucho’s spine. Sure, the usually rabid, drugged-up Sanzu had always been unpredictable when it came to his next move or even his next thought, but this version of Bonten’s second in command with forced mental clarity was downright dangerous; he had a singular goal to achieve, and it was Mikey’s survival. At any expense.

Said man didn’t move, continuing to simply gaze out of the car with an uncharacteristic calmness, alert half-lidded green eyes lifting momentarily to glance at Kakucho through the reflection in the tinted window glass. “Do you think she’s a time traveler?” He repeated.

Kakucho almost laughed out loud, though it was years of discipline and control over his expression that stopped his facial muscles from even twitching. He would have let the chuckle stuck in his throat loose if it was anyone else that occupied the far end of the car, if there was the slightest possibility that Sanzu had been joking around. But there was no humor in the other’s tone, nothing that would indicate the question wasn’t genuine, nor was Mikey’s right-hand man the only one to have this particular idea.

Leaning back into his seat, his arms folding across his chest, Kakucho himself recalled having a similar train of thought the first time he had stumbled into your room and his eye was met with your trembling pair. “I believe she would be a good candidate for one,” the Bonten Number Three carefully answered, every word painstakingly picked, all the while making sure to keep his sole working eye trained on Sanzu. “If there is any possibility that time traveling exists.”

Sanzu tsked, clearly annoyed at Kakucho’s indirect answer. Perhaps he was looking for a more yes or no answer? “She looks exactly the same from back when Toman was around,” the pink-haired man mumbled under his breath, just loud enough for the black-haired man to catch.

The car once more fell into a tense silence as the two men sat and stewed in their own thoughts, the lights of the world outside flashing by uncaringly. Kakucho turned his focus once more to the phone clutched in his hand, absentmindedly scrolling through the updates back from headquarters that constantly lit up his screen, his face as stoic as it always was - without a doubt in his mind, the real you had been a clear one-to-one match to your picture from twelve years ago Mikey had provided. You looked too young to have been missing for so many years.

This whole situation all sounded too much like a sick joke that someone out there was playing with them and their very lives, but the sinking feeling in his gut told Kakucho everything he needed to know; there was no way that this was the end just yet.

‎

By the time the sleek black limousine pulled up along your street, the minutes the ride had taken from Bonten Headquarters to your street felt more like hours. The rain had now become heavier, fat droplets falling from the night sky pelting everything and anything below, the moon and stars that usually twinkled in the dark of space obscured by storm clouds rolling past overhead. The air was thick, humid, and weighty with every breath.

It was one of those rare times that Kakucho could genuinely claim that he was nervous, the pound of his heart in his chest hard enough that he could almost hear it echoing in the car even if expression remained as impassive as it always have been.

The only other time your house alarm had been tripped, yes it was indeed you who he had found. And even this time, he had the constant confirmation back from headquarters that it was someone who managed your general statue that was loitering around the vicinity of what used to be your home, but the what-ifs continued to plague Kakucho. What if it was all a mere coincidence, and he and Sanzu find someone else instead; a burglar, maybe an unsuspecting passerby taking shelter? What if it was you, but by the time they arrived you were already gone? What if someone else got to you first?

Kakucho shook his head, attempting to pull his full focus back to reality as the car rolled to a full stop outside the all-too familiar house, the two men preparing to leave. There was little point in entertaining such anxiety driven thoughts. They will find out soon enough whether you were truly back.

As soon as the door on his end swung open, the unease instantly drained away from the black-haired man - there you were. Seated on the steps of the front porch of your house, you were truly a sight for sore eyes amidst the pouring rain, the brightly colored pajamas that you wore making you stick out against the backdrop of your unlit house. You must have been asleep before you were…pulled (from where, Kakucho would make no assumptions at this current point in time), no surprise given the time of night.

You gave them a small wave as two umbrellas sprouted up from the car door like mushrooms, a moving refuge from the anger of the heavers; your gaze following them as the two men strolled up the street, letting themselves in through the small gate at front of your house. “Hello again,” you greeted cheerfully as you stood, pausing momentarily to dust the back of your pants off. “Kakucho-san, Sanzu-san.”

Kakucho nodded in acknowledgement, his sole red eye glancing cautiously around the neighborhood. It was dead silent, the row of bland gray houses that stretched as far he could see all dark and unlit, though to the seasoned yakuza, the calmness was far from reassuring, the dark of night only equating to more places for potential threats to find. It was dangerous to have you out in the open like that, especially with your association with Bonten. “Why aren’t you waiting inside for us?”

You shrugged. “I didn’t have my keys on me this time,” you answered honestly.

Sanzu’s scarred lips pulled downwards in clear disapproval of your decision, the pink-haired man turning back towards the waiting limousine, not waiting to see if you followed, his umbrella bobbing slightly with each stride. “This way.”

Time traveler, the two words echoed again in Kakucho’s head as he patiently waited for you, watching as you hopped the last few steps to take shelter under his umbrella as he walked you out to the car, your comparatively juvenile face turning to beam up at him. If there was any doubt before, he was more certain of it than not. There was simply no way you weren’t a time leaper.

‎

Sanzu couldn’t find it in himself to be angry at your lack of awareness. Hell, his sheer hatred of you had been draining away with every new forceful injection of memories, and the former Toman delinquent could hardly recall why he resented you so much to begin with at this point. Those voices that had been nagging at the back of his mind for the past fourteen years seemingly having been silenced for good; then again, it could also just be him weaning off the cocktail of drugs he had religiously been on. Who knows? You had always been a good egg as far as he could remember, a kind soul to whoever you met whether or not Mikey and the other less-important founders approved. Had it just been mere jealousy over the closeness you shared with his king that had driven him to that extreme?

The pink-haired man rubbed at his temples, the most recent blast of new memories straight into his brain having given him a splitting headache, the aftereffects still radiating from the back of his head. The rain pounding away on his umbrella and everywhere in general wasn’t helping either. Perhaps it was because the last round he had been unconscious after being shot while high on drugs, cause he didn’t remember the experience being this painful or defined previously.

But more importantly, with every new wave, he was now as certain as he is that the path to hell is hot that one, the omamori from the founding of the Toman gang - the purple and gold one that he had seen you carry twelve years ago as a testament to your favor from Mikey - had something to do with your disappearance twelve years ago. And two: you were definitely some sort of time traveler. If not, the new memories he got of you from the past just wouldn’t make sense, why would you be attempting to apologize for nothing? You had to be apologizing for getting him in trouble with Mikey (after he attempted to strangle you to death, that is, but that was a small detail).

Thunder rumbled in the distance, a clear sign of displeasure from the heavens on Sanzu’s heretic thoughts - time leaping, of all possible things. He was never going to live it down if he was wrong, the Haitani brothers would make sure of that. But then again, didn’t Rindou also say that he got those new memories?

The heavy rain continued to pour relentlessly, dampening the scar-lipped man’s mood further as he tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for Kakucho and you to catch up. Honestly, could you be any slower?

‎

It was the sudden sound of pounding in the distance that first caught his ear, a faint thumping that stood out from the otherwise rhythmic rain pelting down to earth; a sound that Sanzu identified as running. You were about halfway to the limo now, and the Bonten second-in-command willed you to move faster. If it had been any other time, it wouldn’t be such a red flag. But this was a residential estate, in the middle of the night.

No sane person would be running at this time.

A suspicious glance around by clear green eyes yielded nothing at first, the drumming of feet was certainly still there amidst the rain, but the coast was clear as of now, and the mafioso opted to stay on high alert. Years of delinquency followed by a descent into the yakuza world had taught Sanzu not to let his guard down easily, and he signaled to Kakucho, urging him to hurry you up, a telltale tingle running down his spine.

He didn’t like this one bit - they were exposed on the street, moving slowly with a precious payload. No good news. The faster all of them could get into the limousine and get out of this place, the better.

Those footsteps though, they just kept coming closer and closer, growing ever louder and stronger with every tick from his watch.

And the next thing Sanzu knew, it was the screech of shoes turning a wet concrete corner way too fast, and then the awfully familiar and wholly unwelcomed silhouettes of Draken and Baji came screeching round the corner, their eyes instantly snapping first to you, and then moving to glance between him and Kakucho, their eyes widening simultaneously as it dawned on them what they were witnessing. Both plainly-colored mobs of long hair were obviously soaked even from this distance, the drenched clothes and lack of umbrellas that the former Toman founders were clad in telling the Bonten mafioso everything he needed to do now.

They must have gotten the new memories as well. They must know now.

Fuck, what had happened in the past? How is it more and more people were getting the memories?

“Draken? Baji?” You wondered out loud, your voice tinted uncertainty as to whether who you saw speeding towards you were indeed the Toman founders you knew.

He glanced at them again, and then at the car. Godammit, their pace was picking up. Maybe if he had been a bit faster, a bit more insistent in herding you into the car. Maybe if he had just grabbed you and hurled you over his shoulder like potatoes.

But it was too little too late. This wasn’t part of the plan. Sanzu couldn’t lose you to them now - not with Mikey’s life on the line.

“Fucking hell,” the man with the scarred lips swore, throwing aside his umbrella, his now freed hand reaching under his coat and pulling out his gun from its holster in one smooth move, flicking the safety off as he raised the weapon.

You, however, were faster. “No! Sanzu, don’t!”

Throwing yourself straight at his gun with a panicked cry, said mafiaso had no choice other than to immediately lower his weapon to avoid your outstretched hands, the click of the safety switching back on lost in the pouring rain. Now that you were finally back with Bonten, the last thing Sanzu wanted to do was to be responsible for the death of his king by accidentally shooting you.

He turned to bark at the other Bonten member. “Cover me, Kakucho!”

Said man lept into action, withdrawing his firearm, aiming and firing off two shots at the ground in front of the charging Toman founder, forcing them to screech to a halt, though their quaking eyes remained fixed on you.

You screamed.

With a quick holster of his gun, Sanzu swung, his arm catching you around the middle, and you were shoved through the open car door into the backseat of the limousine, the purple-suited man quickly following suit.

The roar of anger from both Draken and Baji reverberated through the streets, their sheer fury palpable. “SANZU!” Draken bellowed. “LET HER GO!”

”I’M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU SANZU!” Baji thundered in unison, his mob of black hair whipping backwards amidst the equally ferocious rain.

Sanzu wasn’t going to wait around to find out. “’We’re leaving!” He barked at Kakucho, simultaneously giving the driver’s divide a few rapid pounds.

Keeping his gun raised, Kakucho retreated quickly, throwing himself through the open car door that slammed shut behind him. The car peeled off, leaving Draken and Baji standing on the curb right outside your house, staring at the car disappearing into the rainy mist.

‎

On the other end of the sleepy Tokyo metropolitan, the rain was equally relentless, a harsh howling wind rattling windows as it swept the fat raindrops inwards, drenching a miserable and already shivering Takemichi. The three more raps on Naoto’s front door were barely audible through the chaos that the sky was remaining down, though the former delinquent opted to resume his nervous pacing up and down along the apartment corridor, his furrowed brows and lost gaze accurately portraying the turmoil in his head. It had to be you, the twenty-six year old thought to himself as he wrung his hands in despair - that glimpse of a fleeting shadow he spotted near where your school once stood; it had to be. There was no doubt about it.

Yet he didn’t have a single whiff of evidence to back his claim up, just that churning feeling in the pit of his gut. Takemichi let out a low groan, slumping against the tiled wall, the wet tiles making little difference to his already soggy clothes. At this point, what else could he do but only hope against hope that it was enough to convince the younger Tachibana?

So occupied in his turbulent thoughts that he missed the beige door - one of many identical ones that lined the entire hallway - creaking open, a familiar mob of black hair peering out. “Takemichi? What’re you doing here at this time?”

Takemichi turned robotically at the words before turning back to face the open air and pelting rain, before his messy brain did a double take and it registered who had spoken. The tears sprang forth before he could stop them.

“Nao-Naoto!” The former delinquent wailed, barreling his way into the house and almost running the other man over before Naoto could reprimand him for his atrocious lack of respect for the neighbors. The apartment was as it always was, always had been in every timeline; plainly decorated, clean and neat, not that it mattered to a borderline hysterical Takemichi at the moment.

“I-I saw her, Naoto! N-near her school lot! I swear it was her!” He rambled, his hands clutching his shirt with a death grip, explosively energized from frayed nerves even as blown eyes glanced between the cupboard and Naoto. “You have to believe me!”

His head pounded. Naoto must believe him. He has to.

“....kemichi! Takemichi!”

His head flew left sharply, his ears ringing from the force. The stinging pain on his cheek only set in seconds later. But it finally broke Takemichi out from his meltdown, snapping him straight back to reality.

“I know she’s back! I got it, breathe,” Naoto directed the hyperventilating man to have a seat at the dining table before shuffling away, returning with two steaming mugs. ”Feeling better?”

Hand coming up to hesitatingly poke at the reddening and swelling cheek, the former delinquent throwing a dirty side-eye at the younger Tachibana sibling, though he was quick to drop his look when the other turned to face him. ”You didn’t have to hit me,” Takemichi muttered, before grumbling his begrudging thanks as he accepted the cup.

Naoto raised an eyebrow, taking the opposite seat. “You weren’t listening.”

“Okay, okay, fine. So you believe me?”

“I do,” the detective nodded. “And I have news for you. Bad news.” From a side drawer, he retrieved what seemed like a small piece of paper and slid it across the table to Takemichi. A photograph of some sorts. The image itself was blurry and hard to make out, as if it had been taken quickly, perhaps in passing or if the photographer had to hide after the snap..

Blue eyes squinted as Takemichi tried to interpret the picture, lifting it closer to his face. What was this even supposed to be? A white cat or something hiding among some large rocks? But those rectangular light sources could pass for a shop window? The photo was all but pressed against his nose before Naoto forcibly yanked Takemictchi’s hand back far enough to tap at the mob of white-hair.

The former delinquent looked up at the other man. “This is…”

”Mikey,” Naoto said resolutely. “Bonten’s boss.”

‎

The air was still in the apartment as the former Toman member followed the detective’s pointing finger up to those black eyes, the storm outside lashing out against the windows and thunder booming in the distance filling the tense silence. It couldn’t be. That couldn’t be true, Takemichi tried to tell himself, a desperate chuckle slipping his lips as he waited for Naoto to break into a laugh. A smile. To say that he was joking, to name another person, another cruel entity that could possibly commit such heinous crimes. Anything.

Because it couldn’t be. Not the Mikey he knew.

But even the quirk of his lips drained away when the Tachibana didn’t break the moody tension, his severe expression never wavering. Naoto meant it.

It was like a physical punch to his gut.

“Mikey?” Takemichi gasped out, barely able to catch his breath. The images of those tormented souls and their broken bodies that Naoto had shown him previously roared straight to the front of his mind once more, his face turning green from the mere memory. “It can’t be- Mikey wouldn’t-” Mikey wouldn’t do something like that, was what he wanted to say, the words dying on his lips as those blue eyes trembled with unshed tears.

The smoke from the tea wafted lazily through the air, the smell of green tea light and fragrant; a small relief from the heavy atmosphere that weighed down on his chest.

Yet Naoto pressed on, all but ignoring the stammered rebuttal; facts were unfortunately facts. He tapped the photo once more, and Takemichi’s eyes followed his finger to the small figure with their face turned upwards, almost completely hidden between the ring of black - the backs of bodyguards, his mind instinctively told him - and Mikey. “And that,” the detective said seriously. “Is who you’re looking for.”

Your name sprang instantly to the tip of Takemichi’s tongue, but he swallowed it back down on instinct alone before he could accidentally let it slip through his lips, lest one of the Toman founders hear of his transgressions through time. “The seventh Toman Founder,” he said, almost reverently. You were like a myth, a legend to all who made up Toman’s ranks, your mere name alone enough to send a shiver of fear down the spines of the black-clad boys. He still had never met nor seen you in person - and it all the more seemed to reinforce that legendary status. “This is her?”

Naoto nodded. “This was taken last week, about five days ago.” From the same side drawer, the police detective took out a case file, your school photo prominently pinned to the front.

Wait. The two photos, it wasn’t possible. “But she looks exactly the same…”

“Which means she is a time leaper,” Naoto confirmed. “Like you, Takemichi. There’s no doubt about it now.” A pause, as the younger man let his words sink in, before he continued. “But the difference is that she’s not in her older body. She’s switching places completely.”

“Plus her time leaping is overriding mine. There’s no new timeline, not even after we saved Draken. Just new memories?”

“New memories, yes. I haven’t received anything as of late, so I don’t know if she’s here or in the past at the moment. And on top of all this, we still don’t know if anyone else is getting those memories too.”

The throb of his mind as Takemichi to wrestle with and digest the avalanche of new information only served to reinforce just how convoluted this entire situation was. “So- Naoto, do you think she may have already told Mikey that she’s a time leaper?”

Said detective frowned. “She could have - they are good friends, no? He, and the rest of Toman, could very well be getting the memories as well.”

Takemichi slumps down in his seat; that would complicate things a lot. A ton, in fact. He desperately needs to speak with you, and fast; just to understand better what he could do to break the cycle, and perhaps even learn more about his own time leaping abilities - if you were capable of changing memories, you might have already inevitably told Mikey and the others that you were a time leaper.

The one problem was figuring out if you’re here in the future or back in the past, and it wasn’t as if he could just saunter up and ask without turning into a smear on the street. Takemichi’s best bet would be trying to catch you here, in what was your future, somewhere he could talk to you without the shadow of the Toman founders hanging over you; but if Mikey and Bonten already had you in his grasp…

Then the chance of Takemichi being able to speak to you would be close to zero.

He needed a solution and stat.

‎

The limousine sped by familiar roads, the rain that refused to let up a cacophony of sound against the metal shell of the limousine. It at least brought you a momentary solace, your heart continuing to race away like the pounding feet of a horse as you tried to process what had just happened. Everything looked glazed over, as if you were viewing the world around you through a layer of frosted glass, your eyes swirling around in your head as you tried to catch your breath, tried to stop your thoughts from spiralling down an unending and hopeless abyss.

Draken and Baji - they were right there. Your precious friends.

Not only were you back in the same future, with the same tired, bone-thin Mikey you remembered leaving behind, the friends you had thought the worst had happened to were still a part of this timeline.

Why hadn’t Mikey answered you all that time ago, when you had asked him about where the rest of your friends were? You had assumed the white-haired man only refused to speak due to an incomprehensible tragedy that befell his once-closest allies, that had ripped the rest of the Toman founders away from him and left him in that sorry state. You had felt that profound sadness pouring from your friend, experienced the grief that clenched at your heart. And you had decided not to pry, to not surface what would be extremely painful memories.

But you had seen them with your own eyes, and they were fine. Alive, breathing. Caring. They had come for you even in the torrential rain, fists swinging, yelling and pissing off your neighbours in the process as they always did. Nothing you could stay mad at, really.

So why? Why didn’t Mikey want to tell you? Why wasn’t he in contact with the rest?

The lights that flashed by through heavily tinted windows held no answers for you, the dull pinks, purples and yellows of the fluorescent signs that made it through briefly illuminating the skin of your hand before fading back into the shadows as quickly as it came, the car leaving the quiet residential streets for the city that never sleeps.

You needed to speak with the future’s Draken and Baji, you decided. You weren’t sure how, given what you had witnessed earlier and Mikey’s likely clinginess, but you had to find out what was going on. If not to find out if they perhaps knew anything about your time leaping that you didn’t, then at least to understand the chasm that had developed between your friends.

‎

“Fuck, I’m fucking drenched!” Sanzu complained loudly, pulling at the soaked purple striped vest and allowing the heavy cloth to sag under its own weight. Kakuchi himself grimaced at his own dripping state, but said nothing save to grunt in acknowledgement.

There was no doubt about it now, you mused to yourself albeit grimly as you settled back into the car seat, your pajamas squelching slightly under you as you glanced between a grumbling Sanzu and a stoic Kakucho. You sure hoped that the pink-haired man wasn’t going to use the opportunity to wrap his hands around your throat again, though he did seem pretty calm this time. Still, you still opted to shift somewhat towards Kakucho. Just to be safe.

Fidgeting with the hem of your pajamas, you glanced out the window again. The tension simmering in the car, combined with the sheer silence that permeated the air, made the atmosphere a bit too heavy for comfort. You bit your lip. What to say? “How’s Mikey?” You decided on asking. At least the one thing that you knew for sure that both men were fiercely loyal to Mikey, not that you wanted to know why the devotion; some things were better not known, much like how you avoided asking your Toman friends what they’ve been up to while you were away.

The sudden stillness was deafening. Even the patter of raindrops faded away, blanketed by this oppressive tranquility that weighed on your chest, on you. You hardly dared to breathe, let alone move, with both Sanzu and Kakucho seeming to freeze on your question. Were they unsure on how to answer you? Scarred lips twitched as if making to speak, those piercing green eyes darting sideways to meet yours before drifting away, Sanzu ultimately deciding against whatever it was he wanted to say. Kakucho simply continued to face forward, though you did catch his sole working red eye fixed on you, unspoken words lost to the raging storm.

The pink-haired man finally replied. “Mikey’s…not doing well,” was all he said, before he turned to look back out the window, his hand dipping into his striped vest’s pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes, though he ultimately thought better of it and stuffed the crumpled box back.

You stared at him, mouth agape. Turning to Kakucho only resulted in the other man avoiding your gaze. If that was all the two had to say, then this was not good. Not in the slightest.

‎

Your heart wrenched when Sanzu led you into the infirmary, with your two sets of footsteps echoing off the white walls The spotless room was enormous, empty beds lining both walls, neatly made with their curtains drawn - save for one at the far end. And it was in the sole occupied bed that you spotted Mikey’s frail frame, a small lump under the covers, his white-hair all but blending into the clean sheets. Sighing, you sank down into the hard plastic chair, your hand reaching out to brush against the pulled covers. “Mikey,” you whispered, the sole word heavy with guilt. You wanted to touch him, to run your fingers gently through his hair, to pull your friend into your arms and assure him everything would be all right. That he needn’t suffer, that you would care for him.

But you restrained yourself, your arm falling limply to one side. This was all your fault. You had been too hasty, too eager to return home, too assured in the idea that this timeline would simply fade into your memory, that the outcome would change when you did so little. But now, reality was staring you cold in the face, and you couldn’t think of a time when you had seen Mikey so frail.

At the sound of your voice, the form stirred, stiff shoulders instantly relaxing as those abyss eyes met yours, blinking weakly. You saw your name formed on his lips, though no sound left his throat. It seemed that even the sight of you had completely relaxed the broken man.

A soft click, as Sanzu quietly exited the room, leaving you and Mikey alone. “I brought you some food Mikey. Would you like to have something to eat or drink?” You showed the white-haired man the paper-wrapped taiyaki and the glass of water you had brought with you; upon your earlier arrival, Sanzu had brought you straight to the kitchens to whip up something quick. You had your suspicions on what had happened, though you hadn’t quite realized just how bad it had gotten until you laid eyes on Mikey.

Fortunately, it seemed Mikey instantly recognized the cake as your handmade variety, not store-bought or Sanzu’s, and as if on cue, his stomach began to rumble. Your lips quirked a small smile, and you turned to set the glass of water down, before tearing off a small chunk of taiyaki. Cooling it down with a blow, you carefully dipped it in some water to moisten the piece (heresy, but so much easier to eat for someone who hadn’t in four days), before holding it up to your friend’s lips. “Ahhhhh.”

The white-haired man obliged, his lips parting to allow you to press the small morsel of food into his mouth. A quick bite and then swallow. You managed to repeat the process two more times before the other’s eyes were all but closed, the exhaustion setting in now with some food in his belly.

Rewrapping the taiyaki in its paper, you kicked off your shoes, climbed onto the infirmary bed and settled next to Mikey. His eyes already fluttered shut, it didn’t stop him from wrapping his arms around you and tucking his face into the crook of your neck as you crawled under the sheets, the other’s breathing evening out before you closed your eyes, finally at peace.

‎

Twelve years separate from you and stuck in the past where they couldn’t get to you, the Toman founders once more found themselves in a conundrum they had no answers to.

Kazutora’s hysterical wails, a piercing cry that the boy couldn’t seem to stop and had been all that anyone within a hundred meter radius would have heard for a good half-hour, had thankfully died down into whimpers, his throat sore though the situation was far from resolved. The fearsome delinquent had been reduced to nothing more than a sniffling baby clutching onto your well-worn sweater, one that smelt strongly of you, his tears soaking the cloth as he buried his face into the soft material.

“She time-lept again?” Baji let out a groan, hands pulling at his face, his sweat-drenched black hair plastered uncomfortably to the nape of his neck. “But how? We have the omamori.”

“And it hasn’t left me since I got it,” Draken noted, pulling down the singlet he had opted for to reveal the purple and gold charm still pressed tight against his clavicle, where he had been wearing it day and night. “I wear it even when I shower.”

The weather was sweltering, the summer afternoon sun mercilessly baking everything and everyone under its light, and the lack of even a hot breeze made the whole situation ever so less tolerable. Gathered below the shade of your favourite oak tree in a clearing not too far from your school, it was once more an unfavourable situation over which the Toman founders were gathered,

Mikey pulled a face, looking extremely unimpressed as sweat poured freely off his forehead. “Maybe it’s cause I should have been the one to wear it.”

Kazutora only whimpered again in response, his fingers wrapping around your piece of clothing even tighter. Everyone present knew what he meant without speaking.

“Drop it Mikey, that’s not the issue right now.” Mitsuya sighed out, the relief at no longer being blamed for your disappearance clear on his expression even if his distress at you being missing wasn’t any less.

A pause, the uncaring city continuing to bustle around them.

“Maybe,” Pah said carefully, the usually loud boy looking like he was concentrating extraordinarily hard on the current situation, his forehead scrunched with his chin held in one hand. “Maybe there’s another omamori in the future as well.”

The other five boys robotically turned to look at the Fifth Division Captain as if he had grown a second head, their necks stiff and creaking. They hadn’t considered that possibility in the slightest, and the unusual insight from the usually act-first-think-later boy caught them off guard.

“It makes sense,” The lilac-haired delinquent admitted, Mitsuya drawing one leg up to balance on the bench. “We hadn’t thought of it, but why wouldn’t there be this omamori in the future?”

“Could have lost it,” Draken suggested.

Mikey snorted. “No way.” To which the other founders present murmured their agreement - it would be unlikely for them to misplace something so precious. “But I agree. There must be more to just having the omamori.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Baji lamented, running one hand through his long, sweat-soaked hair. “Time’s ticking, and we don’t know what’s happening in the future. What if she’s already hurt? Or dead?”

The small gathering of boys fell silent once more. Whatever was going on with the omamori, it was clear more than ever to the Toman founders that there were still too many unanswered questions. With every tick of the watch, every passing second that you were stuck in the future and apart from the Toman founders, your safety and fate grew ever more uncertain. They needed to get you back home with them, and fast.

“So what now?”

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flamingpudding · 1 year ago

Text

Cassiopea and Orion #3

#1 #2

A/N: Finally got some time to continue working on this... to be honest this was pieced together through a bunch of different lunch break writings... sorry if that shows. Also @kizzer55555 totally love your addition on #2! Honestly I squealed when I read it! You were nearly spot on on what I had in mind to where I wanted to go with this story line. Tho I hope you don't mind that I took a bit of inspiration from you while writing some parts of this.

A/N2: Also you guys *sigh of fondness for the dpxdc fandom* originally I wasn't going to tag it just yet but I guess I will now, even if I have no experience writing it and only tried to sort of hint at it a bit for readers interpretations: Spirit Halloween 👻

Ellie frowned watching these people, still sitting on her spot on the railing. Once their initial excitement quieted down and the seriousness of the situation took over, she was left with nothing more to do than to watch the situation unfold before her. A part of her was surprised about the amount of information the big bad bee had on Danny. Some of which she thought was information that previously only Tucker, Sam and Jazz had. But apparently Ellie had been wrong.

Massively wrong by the amount of information she was seeing here. How long had Danny truly been in contact with this guy? There had to have been more than just the occasional phone calls she had caught him on. Did that mean this guy also knew about Dan? About the GIW? About the Infinite Realms? If he knew about all this why, why didn't he help sooner? Why hadn't Danny made contact with this guy sooner either? She did notice him pausing at certain points before continuing like nothing was happening. It didn't look like the onlookers minded, but to Ellie it was an indicator that big bad bee knew more.

She stayed silent the entire time, only muttering a correction ever now on then when she did note that the guy's information was outdated. Still something bothered her the entire time. Ellie didn't know what it was exactly, but the grim faces of the onlookers and the stoic nearly cold sounding explanation of big bad bee rubbed her wrong.

It was only at the end of it that she realize what it was exactly that had bothered her so much.

"What about family? Does she have anyone else left?" One of the onlookers asked and Ellie's head snapped up towards them. That sounded like... no, they weren't...

"According to her, Phantom lost his haunt. Including the code she gave to Robin, we can assume that there is no other safe place left. Unless..." Armored furry turned towards her, and Ellie stiffened only slightly as it appeared that they were finally going to address her again. "What is the status of Plasimus."

"You know about him too huh..." She muttered, not looking at any of them. "Castle is gone, whereabouts unknown, Mom was worried that he was one of the first after the first one of no contact, but that's not confirmed. Nothing turned up to indicate that."

Ellie didn't look up to see the reaction in regards to this information she shared but her head did snap up at the next words she heard. "And your brother?"

Wide eyed she stared at the man that had moved and was now before her, hands carefully placed on her shoulders as he bended down slightly to be on her eye level. Her mind was racing. He knew! This man knew about Dan. Distantly she heard one of the onlookers complain that in all the Infromation Bee had given them he had not mentioned about Ellie having a brother. She didn't react on that, instead searching that man's face despite it being half covered by a bat shaped cowl.

She wasn't sure what she was searching for but she wasn't finding it. Now she wished she had paid more attention to Grandma Pandoras lessons on Aura reading. Dan was in Far Frozen, put into stasis and protected and cared for by Frostbite and his tribe. The other ghosts were looking out for him too, they would do the same for her if she had a way into the Ghost Zone but both portals were gone and Danny, Wulf and Cujo were the only ones currently able to open portals. She wasn't even sure if they knew what Danny had done to protect her.

As her mind wandered Ellie did not realise that the people around her took her silence as some kind of answer. She did not realise how those she doubted onlookers shared grim and saddened looks. Nor how the man before her squeezed her shoulders ever so slightly as if afraid that she would brake any moment.

"Do not worry. You will be safe here with us." The armorer furry reassured her, drawing her attention back to the current moment. Suddenly her earlier suspicion came back to hit her in the face as her eyes once more widened.

"What do you mean?"

"We will take you in and you will be safe and won't have to fear them with us."

She was sure that was meant to sound reassuring but it wasn't. It made her stomach sink. With a moments use of intangibility she pushed away from the man floating backwards and putting more distance between her and these people. Danny gave her the code, told her to use it in a dire situation. That she would get help with that code. That they would help! This didn't sound like the help she wanted. She hadn't even gotten to explain the situation from her side. All they did was apparently assuming something all because of that stupid code Danny, her mom, gave her.

"What about mom?!" She didn't scream but by the faces she might as well could have. "The code was to get help! Mom needs to be rescued! Why are you acting like you won't! Danny promised I would get help when I use it!"

"Danielle." She halted and froze. That tone was stern and it was missing the gravel she had previously heard in that man's voice, it sounded the same way Danny or Auntie Jazz sounded when they needed for her to listen.

"Wait B! I don't think-"

"The code Danny gave you. It's his last resort code, personalised to you. It is one of our many codes we both came up with for our children. One only for situations we did not believe to come back from alive."

"W-what?"

"Aquila, Apus, Phoenix, Cygnus, Columba, Grus, Pavo and Corvus. Each of them has one specific Code personalised for the exact same situation you are in. I am sure Danny has mentioned them to you at least once." Ellie blinked finding a familiarity with these words but also frowned with the realisation that set in with that. Her eyes unintentionally wandered over to the onlookers, no birds, these codes belonged to. She couldn't really tell which belonged to who but she knew Danny must have come up with them as some sort of inside joke.

"B! You can't just-"

"But Mom..." Her voice sounded small even to her own ears.

"I am sorry. But you will be save with us. I promised Danny that years ago."

She knew that her de-aged body was probably influencing her emotional state as she slowly floated back into reach. Before she could sit back onto the rail like she had done the entire time before she felt herself getting dragged to the side and suddenly warm arms encircled her. Ellie blinked confused until her brain caught up. The bird in blue was hugging her. The warmth felt comforting, just like when Danny, Jazz, Val or Sam hugged her and for a moment she let herself enjoy it. Dropping her guard just for a little bit to draw comfort from this warmth.

While Nightwing distracted the little girl in his arms, he made distinctive eye contact over her head with his siblings, before indicating his head towards Batman. Red Robin and Signal nodded before moving towards the man, Robin trailing behind them after he shared one more glance with him. His eyes turned towards Red Hood. The other wasn't even looking at any of them as he was already on his way stomping right out the cave, ignoring everyone around him. Nightwing was going to make sure to send any additional information they would get from Danielle his way later too. Black Bat and Spoiler stayed close to him.

It was moments like these that Nightwing really appreciated the silent understanding he and his siblings had among each other and if Batman was to much into his own head with these stupid codes and apparently already grieving. Then they would step up and if they could give the little girl in his arms the kind of help she had clearly hoped to get from them. It wasn't a promise of safety that the Danielle was looking for or even needed, rather she was hoping for people willing to help her rescue Phantom, her parental figure, her mother, her family, when she had no one else left.

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jinxposting · 1 month ago

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Jason Todd x Jinx! reader Chapter 6

Rough Housing

A lot has changed over the years.

Joker had kicked Harley out. She tried to defeat Batman. She would have succeeded too. Joker didn't like that.

You missed her.

You still saw her from time to time. You'd get drinks together now that you're old enough. Odd she enforced such a rule when she didn't bat an eye at breaking any other laws.

It was strange going home with her not there.

You were mad at Joker for a while after that.

But he's still your dad. You did eventually forgive him. Even though it didn't feel right.

You and Joker's legacy continued to grow. The Clown Prince and his little Princess. You certainly let it go to your head. It was kind of hard not to.

When everyone fears you it's hard not to take advantage of that. You could have virtually anything you wanted. Money? It's your's. Just please put down the gun. Information? Anything. Just don't call Joker. Hell, you even had connections at Arkham now. You never spent more then a single night in there.

Life was good.

There were rumors going around recently about a new vigilante. This one, however, was less than moral. He left a trail of death in his wake. He'd taken over the drug rings previously belonging to Black Mask. Not an easy task. This guy had to be strong to pull that off. Or crazy.

You smiled at the thought. It'd be nice to break in a new toy. But alas, your paths have yet to cross. You didn't even know his name.

"Jinx!"

"That's me!"

"I have a favor to ask."

"Oh?"

"I have a shipment coming in and I need you to make sure the numb skulls don't flub it. Think you can do that, my dear?"

"Easy peasy."

Or at least it should have been.

The good news is you know that new guy's name now! Red Hood. Bad news? He was attacking your men. You were transporting run of the mill weapons. You thought this guy was all about drugs? It made no sense.

"You work for Joker, right?"

You peaked over the side of a crate you'd been using for cover. He had an AK-47 pointed at one of your unnarmed henchmen.

"Y-Yes!"

"You're going to tell me where he's hiding."

"I don't know!"

"Five seconds."

"Do you know what he'll do to me if I talk?!"

"Do you know what I'll do to you if you don't?"

Oh this guy was a tough cookie. You liked it.

"Do you know what I'll do to you regardless?"

You stepped out, pistol raised at the assailant. He didn't budge. You couldn't read him with that helmet on, but if posture meant anything he seemed unphased.

"Jinx!"

"You."

"Me."

With a swift hit to the back of the head you knocked the henchman unconscious.

"Whoops! There goes your source."

The man pointed his gun at you. "You do realize you're also a source? A better one at that?"

"Oh, please. Have you met me? I may be a chatter box but there ain't nothin' I have to say. Threaten all ya want."

"Do you ever take anything seriously? I have a loaded gun pointed at you."

"As do I." You waved your fingers around the grip of your pistol. "And as if this is the first gun I've had waved in my face. You're not exactly special, pal."

Red Hood sighed. "You're not gonna talk, are you?"

"Talk? Sure! Tell you what you wanna hear? No."

"You haven't changed a bit."

You cocked an eyebrow. Changed? Have you met this guy before? Obviously he was someone Joker knew if he wanted to see him so bad. You'd have to dig into this later.

The masked man jabbed the butt of his gun at you. You ducked, raising your own up to his chin. Which he then kicked out of your grasp. He grabbed you by one of your long braids, yanking you back up to your feet.

"You should seriously cut this."

You flung the second braid over his shoulder before pulling it taught. He gasped at the sudden lack of oxygen.

"But it's so useful!"

Red Hood threw his head back, slamming into your face with a headbutt. That mask of his packed a punch. You struggled to stay upright, the world around you blurring in a dizzy smear of color.

He grabbed you by the face, staring at you. Before he could speak you bit into his hand.

"Son of a- are you fucking serious?!"

"Deadly."

"This is getting nowhere."

The man decked you in the face. You fell to the ground with a loud thud. He clambered on top of you, fist raised and ready for another punch. Your nose was bleeding, you could feel it running down your chin. You stared up at him in shock. But he didn't move. Just stared down at you. Again, unreadable with the helmet on.

In an instant smoke enveloped you. This guy had tricks too it seems. By the time it cleared you were left alone on the ground, the henchmen around you either dead or unconscious. You breathed out slowly.

"Joker's not gonna like this."

You scanned the nearby buildings in hopes of catching sight of the vigilante. Only to be met with disappointment.

Red Hood.

You finally found a new playmate.

#dc comics #bat family #jason todd #joker #harley quinn #jason todd x reader #villain reader #jinx reader #jinx jumbles

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milkiedimitrescu · 2 months ago

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Sooo i made a kinda creepy thing

(so I might've accidentally made a whole introductory to a whole new fic idea) GUYS I KNOW I HAD AN AU ART I STILL NEEDED TO MAKE HOLD ON LET ME COOK

So like

yeah just press the "keep reading" and see for yourself bro

You are aimlessly are wandering around the corridors of the Dungeon of Castle Dimitrescu, Previously you had come to visit after it had seemingly became abandoned after its inhabitants died, and there was nothing left.

This was shortly after the big explosion that destroyed every aspect of the village. (You know why, fellow reader. :)) You were exploring room from room, and Hall by Hall, gathering information on what might've happened to the past owners of this Castle.

And that's when you discover the current place your in. The dungeon corridors deep underground. You have heard this is where the Lady Dimitrescu chased Ethan winters, and supposedly he had escaped. Gathering enough information, you have come to the conclusion, Ethan had killed the Dimitrescu family for his daughter, How protective of him. You mused. But you needed more answers, on your mission.

You continue exploring, taking in the environment. It was decaying and there were some walls that were destroyed, seemingly. You found where the dagger that killed Lady Dimitrescu just outside the castle before you got there and kept it safely in your item carrier.

Until, suddenly, you hear a woman, whisper in your ear. She sounded like she would have a deep, rich, velvety, sultry, voice. Soft, yet a bit commanding.

"I'm still here. Turn around." She whispered, in your left ear.

But it shook you to the core. You flinched at the sudden voice. And you quickly turned around to see the source of the noise and only found that nothing was there. You were alone. Well, you were supposed to be alone, but now you feel paranoid, on the edge that someone or something else is down here with you. It's quite dark in this dungeon so you reached into your item carrier that you carried around like a backpack, and grabbed a candle holder you collected from Lady Dimitrescu's private chambers. You inhaled, and exhaled and grabbed your lighter, lit it up, and lit each candle on the candle holder, before safely putting the lighter back in the bag.

It's way too quiet down here. You feel like you are being watched, like a predator, spying on their prey. You thought in the corner of your eye, you saw a long tall shadow staring at you from the distance before quickly disappearing but you quickly dismissed it as something your mind was making up, due to the fact you were alone in empty halls. Until,

"I'm behind you."

The voice again! You stopped dead in your tracks, heart pounding profusely. You were practically frozen in utter terror. You think you are being haunted by a spirit, from the castle. Your scared to turn aroun-

"Turn. Around." The voice of this... Woman, was captivating, much more commanding than last time. She seemed to really want you to see her.... You shakily breathed in and out, and did it. Finally, with courage, and bravery to face whoever else was down you in the dungeon,

...

Who the living hell is that...? You thought out loud quietly, to yourself. There was a tall, shadow figure. Standing before you in a softly candle lit hallway where seemed to be a lever. Her eyes... So piercing into your soul. They were glowing red and seemed almost dead. She tilted her head at you, endeared by your paranoia. Her aura, she had shadowy particles coming from each part of her body. It looked like she was wearing a dress and a hat. Could this be..?

"Fear not, child. I won't hurt you."

She took a step forward towards you. Her shadowy aura trailing behind her.

"This is only a dream, I'm afraid. But, in real-time. I want you to come to Castle Dimitrescu. Find a way to bring me and my family back to life. We oh, so crave it dear. That man..." She scoffed looking to the side, gazing to that single barrel that was leaning on the side of the wall just somewhere near her, seemingly deep in thought. "That man killed my daughters... For the sake of his own daughter. Then... Killed me." She looked back at you.

"Find my crystal, and my daughters ones aswell. We need to be brought back in order to live in peace again. The castle, is now the only place we haunt, yet an echo, of are unfortunate fates."

She took another few steps closer to you till you were now both in front of each other. Couching down, she whispered, Her red eyes glowing in hope,

"I believe you are the chosen one, dear. To free us, from this misery. You hold more power than you believe,"

"Wake up." She whispered harshly. Her shadowy aura consuming you whole, leaving you in nothing but a void and a pair of red orbs staring back at you.

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

Gasping, you sat up from your hotel bed breathing fast, and checked the time on your watch, and saw it was 9 AM. Just the time you were going to get ready to leave to go to the village, to find out more about what happened in there. But... You already knew... That dream you had, everything was clear to you. It felt real, like Lady Dimitrescu actually spoke to you, telling you about bringing her and her family back.

But you heard of the atrocities she committed... you heard of the terror she had caused when she was alive, and still living in that Castle along with her daughters.

Loudly Sighing, you leaned back to lay back down,

"What the hell, man."

#alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #resident evil village #resident evil #re8 lady dimitrescu #resident evil 8 #lady alcina dimitrescu #re8 alcina #re8 #alcina demitriscu #I accidentally wrote a whole introductory thing to a possible fic what the actual fuck-

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starberry-cupcake · 2 months ago

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I came back!!! I didn't leave you for 5 months!!! And now I have 3 chapter updates together!!! I'm kissing you all in the brow tenderly like palmolive did to harrow and offering this recap

previously, in harrowcita del 9:

this happened

CHAPTER 34

harrow wakes up in a different spot, with camilla next to her and a shuttle with a design she has never seen before

she confirms that palmolive is indeed in his bachelor apartment in the river

camilla is very glad she doesn't have to go back to sweep the floor of canaan house for more palmolive bits

harrowcita does as palm told her and turns the skull into a hand because cam doesn't want a full skeleton reproduction because "it would get her in trouble"

customs are nasty up there in space

harrow goes to check up the shuttle and finds more old pals!!!

there's judith, remember judith?

in harrow's memory, she was dead from the slasher waker sleeper, but in our memory she was close to dead but not quite

turns out she's alive

not great for anyone other than herself, but anyway

there's also regina george twin

harrow remembers her falling to her death in the hands of mayonnaise uncle, but we remember her from crying in a corner last we saw her

after yandere twin had slurped chad the third and all that

this is again confusing me a bit, because clearly harrow remembers the gideon-less narrative but not!dulcinea is included in her memory, so that's still undetermined for me

there's also a poster of a woman harrow takes quite some time looking at

she: 1) looks intimidating, 2) is dressed in black, 3) has red hair

harrow immediately starts bleeding

"that portrait frightened you more than anything you had seen since becoming a Lyctor; it scared the irresolute piss from your body. Yet you had never seen the face before in your life"

my immediate theory is that maybe she's the leader of BOE who went missing about 20 years ago and that I mentally connect to gideon or gideon's mom

without any evidence other than math and a hunch

we'll see how wrong I am in the following chapters

harrow starts taking out her letters for everyone present

past!harrow wanted present!harrow to silence judith (valid) and protect regina george twin, only silence her if necessary

yandere twin had added some annotations on this about not hurting her sister

these letters were google docs

regina george twin has a ninth house rapier

I WONDER WHAT THAT IS ABOUT

harrow does as told (by herself) but wants to know what is going on so she un-silences judith momentarily and judith is an asshole who wants to rat someone out to the emperor

idk how things are at BOE or what is going on but here we don't stan the emperor so anyone who wants to protect him isn't my friend

camilla gives the ninth pledge to convince her to let them leave and says "we're not on the same side anymore"

PROMISING

when asked who took them from canaan house and who they're with, camilla says "you call them Blood Of Eden"

POSTER THEORY NOT CONFIRMED BUT I WONDER

CHAPTER 35

back in gideon-less universe with ortus and his polycule the fifth

abby thinks the lost chambers of the emperor run sidelong to the facility, which is information I very much would have liked her to elaborate on

but harrowcita is spotted listening in on the private conversation

harrow also keeps wanting ortus to do gideon stuff and show gideon behavior

she doesn't know that's what she wants but we know because she keeps being like "ortus doesn't start immediately doing push ups after almost dying, isn't showing his arms to the young ones and hasn't said a single dirty joke, which isn't ninth behavior but she's somehow expecting it".

canaan house is also growing some body horror stuff

sure, why not

abby says "time was always against us", which is pretty intense, knowing what we know

and then in comes teacher acting like he's drunk out of his ass, but he says he's not

it's great for us because drunk exposition is useful

he calls "the devil" a "her" who "bent for god to put a leash around her neck" and how the "disciples were scared" of her

then the lyctors found out what they had to do and they asked doctor reverend emperor john to kill her

but he "put her in a box"

like this

"you worship a monster in a box" "now we have a monster in a box"

I hadn't thought of those parallels, actually, that's my bad

"once that rock's rolled away, once that tomb's levered open, the Emperor of the Nine Houses will never know peace ever again"

CHAPTER 36

there's a bug in this one, like in the illustration

is this the beast?

harrow prays that not!dulcinea's body is tossed out through the airlock

WHERE HAVE I HEARD THAT BEFORE??????

OH YEAH, I HAVE BEEN ASKING FOR THAT SAME THING

at first I thought harrow didn't remember her meeting the gang because it said "and why now was one of your letters missing and another two freshly opened?"

but she does remember, so narrator (still unknown) is confusing me

playing games with my mind

they have boring code-names that aren't puns or funny nicknames (which I have a predilection for) but their initials and the initial of their cav

dr reverend emperor john has a g, which I know what word it stands for, but I don't know what it means because it showed up in a dashboard spoiler but thankfully it had no context

so there's AA for Augustine Alfred, GP for Gideon (alleged, we're still not saying that one aloud, I'm still betting on it though) Pyrrha, IN for Ianthe Naberius

which is confusing to me because I call him Chad and everyone else calls him Babs but his name is Naberius but I always read it as Nebarius

he's like a puppy that you name one way but everyone calls differently

augustine hesitates on harrow's name and says "Harrow's H"

harrow says HO and everyone's awkward about it

you sure, harrow? you sure it's O?

turns out the beast is here to get doctor reverend emperor john's sorry ass for, according to mercygirl what "you did to its kin" and "it sees my cavalier's mortal soul burning in my chest"

harrow wants to kiss ice cube barbie but she's not having it and goes "i have to go away for a while"

that's rough, buddy

mercygirl proceeds to draw a cylinder with names of layers and explains the very convoluted and not at all certain sounding plan they've got

apparently ulysses threw sexy parties that mercygirl hated

harrowcita does remember seeing regina george twin and is worried that yandere twin is the traitor that judith was taking about

I think harrow is the traitor but she doesn't know it

I think her forgetting stuff is part of a plan to kill the emperor, but my evidence is circumstantial

as long as we kill this dude, it's all good

mercygirl gives a speech about how much she hates everyone and how she wants to torture the emperor

if we are to spare one lyctor from the guillotine, let it be her

everyone has positions to take in this plan (that sounds like it's kinda doomed) and that the emperor isn't paying attention to at all

everyone except for harrow, because they all think she's gonna die

and we get potential foreshadowing?????? about the stoma

which is "hell" and the emperor says it's "where my power and my authority are utterly meaningless"

AND THAT'S WHERE WE ARE NOW, FAM!!! see you next time!!!

#luly reacts to tlt #harrow the ninth #harrow the ninth spoilers #tlt spoilers #gif cw #long post #i'm gonna use star trek reactions now it's over for you

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magics-neptunes-things · 1 year ago

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Hate and love

Hello!

This one is from a request, you still can ask me to write something if you want to :)

I have to say that I'm not really sure about this one, but here it is.

Enjoy ♥

TW : Angst, harassment, divorce, loneliness.

______________________________________________________________

Your arrival in Barcelona at the winter transfer almost a year ago has gone rather well. You quickly bonded with most of the players and you didn’t have any trouble becoming a part of the FC Barcelona family. You maybe wasn't in the Top 3 of the public favorite players, but you don't really mind. You were a bit sad about the departure of some of them this summer, especially Jenni and Ana who were kind of mentors for you during these few months. And even if you continue to exchange news with them, you must admit that it is not the same.

Playing previously in Seville, you already knew quite well some of the players of the team, usually staying on the pitch after the matches to chat a little. You were separated during the World Cup, your national team not being strong enough to pass the qualifications you were in the first to return to training in Barcelona. This did not prevent you from making the trip to Australia to support your friends and obviously the Spanish national team.

You celebrated their victory from the VIP party with friends and family before returning to Barcelona in your daily routine. The world champions have gradually returned to training and you have welcomed new players to the team, always in a good mood.

Everything seems perfect told like that, yet there is something that bothers you since your arrival in Barcelona.

Aitana Bonmati.

She never seemed very happy to see you arrive and you never understood why. At first you said to yourself that she was perhaps afraid that your arrival would cause an imbalance in the group, as can happen sometimes when an element has a too strong personality. Some are afraid of change and you have not asked yourself more questions than that, letting this information slip into a corner of your brain. She wasn’t necessarily part of the small group of girls you trained with regularly anyway since you don’t play in the same spot on the field.

But this summer, you could see that the new arrivals had the right to a big smile and other privileges to which you were not entitled. It’s not really a question of ego, but you don’t understand what you did to her to make her react this way with you. And that's hurt.

You have even noticed with the passing of time that she tends to be rather unpleasant with you, not responding to your hello when you arrive in the locker room for example. It happens to her to roll discreetly her eyes when you speak and you even surprised once Ona throwing her an elbow in the ribs while making the big eyes. It was a relief to see that you were not crazy and that your teammates were taking your side, but it also confirmed what you thought.

And gradually, it plunged you into a kind of constant anxiety, reminding you of some of your traumas during your childhood and adolescence. During which you were often mocked, the girl who preferred to play football rather than dance. Your father always supported you in your choices, unlike your mother, your big brother and your big sister. When they separated you went to live with him and he sacrificed a lot so that you would be where you are today, but you never had the heart to tell him about the harassment you were experiencing at school.

**********

"Can I talk to you?"

Alexia’s voice surprises you while you were focused on the laces of your Converse, making you jump a little. Lost in your thoughts, you were ruminating about the disaster you were during this training. You didn’t put a single ball in the net, you got so distracted that you got a remonstrance from Jona and you almost kill Mapi with a bad pass. Mapi preferred to laugh and quickly came to reassure you by giving you a friendly slap in the back and a hug, to your greatest relief. You would have been horrified to be hated by another of your teammates.

"Sure" you mumble without looking at her.

Alexia’s voice was sweet when she offered to follow her to one of the conference rooms and you complied after picking up your bag and stuff. All the other girls have already returned and the corridors now seem deserted.

When you arrive in the room, you watch Alexia open the blinds slightly as you stand against the wall, very close to the door. You’re anxious and just waiting to be scolded. It often happened like this, teachers taking you aside to say that you weighed on the morale or level of the class. That you had to work on it if you wanted to be accepted and have good results. But no one ever seemed to wonder why you didn’t get along with your classmates. No one ever noticed or understood the harassment you were experiencing. You never mentioned that either, but you would have given ten years of your life for someone to notice. Anyone.

So when Alexia turns to you with an almost maternal expression, it completely disarms you. Her eyes were soft and you can easily detect a form of concern in it.

"You can come closer, I won’t eat you" Alexia gently smiles before sitting on one of the tables, probably to make this conversation less formal.

After hesitating for a second, you settle down in front of her playing nervously with your hair.

"What can I do for you?" you ask, instead of "How are you gonna let me know that I’m gonna heat up the backup bench over the next few weeks?"

"I just wanted to make sure that everything was fine. You seem a little out of place these last few days and it’s starting to worry us. I talked with Jona about it today"

She seems embarrassed to tell you that she told someone else about you without you knowing, making you frown. Your facial expression is probably misunderstood by your captain as she hastens to add

"Don’t take this the wrong way. we’re just worried about you"

"I... I'm fine"

You shrug before biting your lip. You are a bad liar, you know it. And it didn't fool Alexia.

"You don’t have to tell me if you don’t feel comfortable with it. But there are other people here who will listen to you with pleasure."

"Don’t worry about me. It was just a time like this, but I’ll be fine"

Because it's what you always did. Figuring and fighting things alone, even if you have now friends who you trust and who you know you can count on.

"You don't have to do that alone, you know"

"Why do you even care?"

You roll your eyes. Sur Alexia is a great captain, and you like her a lot. As a friend of course, but you can't denied that she deserve her title. Like most other girls she is sincerely kind and knows how to distinguish between competition and friendships in the locker room. This is an example for you, as it is for many other girls. And even if she knows all this, she remains modest and does not take the big head. Pretty impressive, in your opinion.

"Is that even a question Y/N?"

Alexia laughs, but it’s a surprise laugh. She seems surprised at the sincerity of your question. And, seeing that you don't answer, she gently shakes her head before answering you.

"Because we care, you're part of this family and even if half of us are totaly crazy, we care for each other. Whatever your problem is, you don't have to figure out alone."

And these sentences, even if it seems to be the most natural thing for Alexia, break down the barriers you have put up until now. You feel tears wet your cheeks without being able to do anything to stop them. As if the dam that you had formed all these years had broken and all the tears that you had retained until today finally decided to come out. And obviously, it bothers you terribly.

You mumble excuses between two sobs, but after more or less calling you an idiot, Alexia breaks the distance between you two to take you in her arms and rock you against her. You don’t know how long you stay like this, but you still stop crying.

So you tell her everything.

The harassment when you were little, from part of your family and the children in your classes. The divorce of your parents which you feel responsible despite everything, this feeling of loneliness that you have since you were born certainly. This feeling of never being fully understood by anyone, until you arrived here. And then you talk about your teammate who reminds you of that, without giving her name. You don’t want to be a problem and Alexia doesn’t ask you to name her. Maybe because she already knows who she is?

The blonde listens to you without saying a word, patiently wiping the tears that continue to roll on your cheeks. When you are silent, exhausted by these confessions and your tears, she speaks again in a calm and soothing voice.

"I’m not going to pretend that I understand you because I was lucky enough to have a family that always supported me. I wouldn’t be here without them, honestly."

The bond between Alexia and her mother, even her sister is know by anyone. You nod, still looking at her.

"But you, you made your way all by yourself. You're only 21 Y/N, you don't realise how strong you are. But being strong doesn't always mean you have to be alone. You have friends here, people who love you and care for you. You are not alone anymore."

With that you smile at her, feeling relieved. As if the weight of all these years were coming off your shoulders. You even feel like you can breathe better. So you thank Alexia, with simple words but you couldn’t explain how much you think about them. As she lays a kiss on your cheek, you put your arms around her neck to hug her and press your words. She gives you your hug back before training you out of the room. Tomorrow is another day and you promise to do better than that.

**********

The rest of the workouts of the week are much better and you decide to completely ignore Aitana. You remain polite nevertheless, but you act as if she's not there. And this seems to annoy her even more but you decided that's not your problem. Many times you feel her look burn your back and you have time to see her black look before she realizes that you are looking at her and she looks away.

But your morale and your game are back to normal and it’s a great relief for you. For Alexia and your coach too, the man simply slips you a short compliment at the end of a session. No need to make tons and that’s enough for you.

The last practice before the next game goes as usual. You do your warm-ups with your fellow defenders, then you are shuffled for courses and drills before a five-player mini-team tournament is organized. You feel a form of anxiety that makes your heart beat when your team is against Aitana, but you decide to focus on the game.

It goes pretty well until you are tackled a little too ferociously by someone from the opposing team. The pain in your ankle and instantaneous and you can’t hold a cry of pain as you collapse to the ground.

"What the fuck Aitana?" Mapi snaps, but you don't really care for now.

The second duel that took place next to you seems to have stopped too, but the tears of pain that fill your eyes prevent you from seeing it for the moment.

"You're ok?"

Irene has knelt beside you and you feel a compassionate hand behind your back. Long black hair obscuring part of the view informs you that it's Ingrid. You answer a simple no with a nod and a few minutes later you are transported to the infirmary. Ona offered to accompany you and you agreed, realizing that you didn't want to be alone.

**********

"Sprain" informs you the nurse and you let yourself go against the file of the infirmary bed on which you are. "It means rest for two weeks."

You pout, but turn your attention to Ona when she places a friendly hand on your arm. You are so used to spending this kind of time alone that you sometimes forget for a few seconds that she is with you. You must be able to easily win the worst friend award.

"At least it’s not the ligaments" Ona said softly.

"You’re right" you sigh.

She gives you a compassionate smile and you assure her that she can take a shower and change. You still have the prescription to wait and the nurse must come back with your brace and crutches. After making sure you weren’t going to go home with an Uber but with her and Lucy, she eventually left the room. She even offers to inform the rest of the team of your injury and you accept willingly, not wanting to go to put a show there downstairs.

A few minutes pass and you always wait when someone knocks on the door.

"I still haven’t finished Ona, but you can come in."

Except that it is not Ona who enters, but Aitana. The look fixed on her shoes and the air of someone who goes to the torture room. And this time, the anger you had not yet felt takes hold of you.

"I came to apologize" Aitana mumbles without turning her eyes towards you.

"Well, it's done" you answer coldly, turning your back on her.

You don’t want to look at her. You’re mad at her, at her behavior. That she doesn’t like you is one thing, but that she makes you unable to play for two weeks is another.

"It wasn't voluntary"

You hold a sarcastic laugh and slowly shake your head.

"Ok."

Aitana seems surprised at your reaction, but you don’t care. It's true that usually you are more the one who flees the conflict and who prefers to go with the idea of the person in front of you to please her. She stands there and it annoys you. So you suddenly turn your head in her direction and you talk to her dryly.

"All right, you can go now. Just leave me alone."

The tone of your voice seems to make her react since she frowns and steps in your direction.

"Don’t talk to me like that."

You feel your heart racing, you have never been very good at dealing with disputes and emotions. Until now you had managed to buried them deep inside when they became too powerful but it seems that since your confessions to Alexia you are no longer able to do so. She says it’s a pretty good things, but you're not really sure about that.

"Don’t tell me how to talk to you when you’ve been treating me like shit since I got here, Aitana."

Aitana is stunned. She never saw you angry and expected you to accept her apology so that she could get out of this room as quickly as she got in. Her lost look irritates you a little more, she knew very well what she was doing by behaving as she did since the beginning. And you gradually realized that you didn’t deserve this.

"Who made you come here? Mapi, Alexia, Jonatan?"

She blushs and it's enough for you to understand that you are right. If she had the choice, she would never had been here, begging for your forgiveness.

"Get out" you groan, turning your back at her once again.

She didn't and you sigh before getting up as you can. It may not be the most graceful way to do it and it may take some drama off the stage, but you don't care.

"I said get out" you say, raising your voice now. "You don't want to be here and I don't want you here."

But she’s still not moving and your patience is coming to an end. From now on there is nothing else that separates you, except the bed on which you were lying a few moments ago. The nurse still hasn’t come back, but this might be the time to do it please.

"I- " began Aitana, without saying anything more.

"What do you want? Two weeks without me aren't enough? Want to break my other leg too?"

The frustration you feel about not understanding Aitana’s reaction and behavior may be pushing you a little to say things you never had the courage to say before. But it was less positive to return the floor to your interlocutor, whose face and eyes finally come alive again.

"I told you I didn't mean it" she half-screams and you snort. "Maybe I was wrong for acting with you like I did but..."

"Maybe?!" you interrupt her coldly.

"You made my life a living hell! You came here with your damn smile and skills and all my life fell appart!" Aitana is clearly shooting now and you blink, surprised by her rage. "I was in an healthy relationship, happy in my life and with this team. And you came along and everything fell apart! I am straight ok, I am so fucking straight but all I can think about all the time is you! I hate you for the way you make me feel but I'm not fucking able to change it even if I tried since you are here"

It is your turn to remain silent, your brain analyzing each of the words that she just said. And all this has absolutely no meaning for you, except the part where she confesses her hatred to you perhaps. Aitana’s breathing is fast and noisy, you can’t tell if it’s that or your screams that didn’t allow you to realize that you were no longer alone in the room.

"Hmm."

You look over Aitana’s shoulder and you realize that Ona has returned to the room with Lucy holding your crutches and a sheet of paper while she herself carry your bag.

"Maybe it’s time to go home"

Lucy’s perfectly expressionless face keeps you from knowing how long she’s been here. Two steps behind her, Ona makes her look between you and Aitana without saying anything. You nod and pass in front of Aitana with a limp, Ona reacting by breaking the last meters to help you take your crutches in hand.

You follow them silently to Lucy’s car and after some arguments with Ona you finally agree to sit in the passenger seat. By taking your phone out of your pocket, you realize that you have received some messages from your teammates wishing you a good recovery. And you quickly understand that they have created a tournus between them so that you are not alone at home. There will apparently be only during the trip next weekend where you will not have peace. But it makes you smile and a little forget what just happened.

"You want to eat with us tonight?" Lucy asks.

"Nah I'm good thank you. I usually watch some crap TV show on friday night."

You see Lucy peeking at you to make sure you’re not playing superhero and you feel the way she’s measuring you. You look up and sigh.

"I assure you it’s okay. Enjoy your Friday night, I’ll probably go to bed early anyway."

This time it's Ona that Lucy looks through the rearview mirror but neither of them insists, to your relief. Being alone doesn't bother you. Once at home, Ona helps you get out of the vehicle and before she can open her mouth, you speak again.

"I promise, i'm fine Ona."

"All right. I’ll leave you alone on the condition that you swear on your cat’s head that you will write me if you're not okay."

"Leave the poor cat alone" you joke, making her smile. "I promise."

**********

The doorbell on your front door makes you frown. You’re sitting on your couch, a blanket on your legs and your cat on your stomach. Your sprain is better, it must be said that after a week and a half of rest it would be dramatic that this is not the case. You have resumed muscle training, but it is obviously out of the question that you start running again for now. You can now move without your crutches and it was a great relief to be able to get rid of them. Your ankle is still carefully immobilized but you are now doing quite well.

Salma left your apartment half an hour ago, and you’re supposed to stop receiving visitors. Your father phones you every day and hasn’t done it yet, but he has no reason to show up here unannounced. That’s really not his style.

The bell rings again, waking up your cat who is rustling a little before going to eat croquettes in the kitchen. So you get up from the couch and go to the door, opening it without removing the safety chain to see who it is. And almost immediately you close the door, but the fingers of Aitana who slip into the opening prevent you to do so.

"Don’t make me break your fingers"

"Just let me in"

"No? What the hell"

"Y/N, please…"

The despair of her voice makes you flinch and you press your forehead against the door. You’re too sensitive to people’s distress to leave someone with that feeling. Even if it was Aitana herself who put you in this emotion there a few weeks ago. You sigh and, already regretting your gesture, you open the door to let her in. You avoid looking at her when she enters your home, closing the door behind her.

"You have a cat?"

You refrain from pointing out that if she had been interested in you instead of making you regret your arrival, she would know. If you don’t talk about your cat several times during the day, there is a problem.

"How do you know where I live?"

Aitana stop looking at your cat who spread out on your plaid to turn to you. With your arms crossed, you wait for his answer with a certain hint of curiosity. Aitana has never set foot in your house and if you are not mistaken, she does not really live in the neighborhood.

"I asked Irene"

She shrugs and you signal her to settle down on the couch. You go back to your place, gently pushing your cat to be a little more comfortable. With a simple look he made you understand that you're annoying, making you smile gently. You caress him to apologize as he stretches, rolls into a ball and closes his eyes.

"I came to apologize"

Sitting on the edge of the couch, Aitana looks at you with the same suspicion as if she had been the last piece of meat in the middle of a horde of hungry lions.

"I’ve already heard that before" you answer by arching an eyebrow

"I know. But I just... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, really. My problems shouldn’t have affected you. I should have handled things differently, but I was confuse and scared."

She looks sincere and does not look away when you judge her with yours. Next to you your cat stretches lazily before turning around on the other side and continuing his nap.

"Ok. Apologizes accepted"

She looks at you so long it makes you uncomfortable. You have never been in her presence for so long and you find yourself nervously wrapping your hair around your finger.

"If I could, I would do things differently, you know? I understand it’s out of the question that something is happening between us now, but I would like to start all over again. Get to know you, possibly offer you a date and then two if things go well."

You’re slowly biting your lip looking at her. You’d be lying if you said that the words she said in the infirmary didn’t mark you. You were far from imagining that the reason for his behavior was related to an attraction to you. You think it’s pretty toxic, but you like to think people deserve a second chance. After biting your lip, you bend over and reach out to her.

"Well... Hi. I'm Y/N, nice to meet you."

#aitana bonmati #aitana bonmati x reader #woso imagine #woso x reader

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doyoulikethissong-poll · 7 months ago

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Submissions are CLOSED.

01CEST - 18CEST 1st of June (find the current time here)

RULES:

Submissions will only be open during this specific time, then the askbox will close. (that means no questions or other things can be sent to me at that point for a while)

All required information needs to be filled in! Any submissions that lacks any of required info will instantly be deleted.

I want to showcase more non-English songs! So please specify which language the song is in. Write instrumental instead of language on instrumental songs. Also remember to add country of origin of the artist because it's more fun to hear things from all over the world, not just "the usual" bunch! (yes, english songs from north america & europe are still fine to add!)

Artist Song title Year Genre Language Country of origin

Again; all of the above needs to be specified or the message will be deleted.

Artists that have previously been featured on the blog are welcome back, of course! Just make sure to not submit songs that have already been posted!

The first 220 songs are all listed here. The songs between 221 and 230 can be found as listed in the Showdown polls. Of course it's ok to add songs being covered by other artists than the original! (final choice which goes is up to me though)

For artists on a smaller scale and/or that are very local and have basically no info to be found online, please do make sure to send along a blurb with info about them and their song. :) It doesn't have to be much, but something is better than nothing! The songs needs to be available on Youtube and/or Spotify for people to get the chance to listen and discover the full versions.

There will be a maximum of 7 SONGS PER USER, so make sure to send them all in ONE message to my askbox. Only users that already follows this blog are allowed to submit songs, obviously, lol. New and empty accounts don't count, don't be daft! 😂 Anything sent to me from a freshly created account will be deleted because you haven't even had time to discover and follow this blog yet.

Double-check all the info before sending it in, there's no rush unless you're very last minute. :'D If you send in multiple messages instead of a single one, they will be deleted.

There's still way over a thousand songs from before to go through 😅 All the old song submissions are still waiting in my askbox, so if you've already submitted them you don't have to re-submit them. 💖 So with both the old and these new songs, please have patience for them to be added. 😅💖

Example of submissions: 1- A-ha - Take On Me, 1985, synth-pop, english, norway 2- Måneskin - Zitti e Buoni, 2021, glam/punk rock, italian, italy 3- Youssou N'Dour and Neneh Cherry - 7 Seconds, 1994, ballad, wolof/english/french, senegal+sweden

time table made here

#req

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plussizefantasia · 1 year ago

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Fluttering Heart

Fluffober Day 13: Soulmates

Kili Durin x f!human!reader

Word Count: 1.5k

AN: OMG! This has definitely been my favorite to write so far. I love Kili with my whole heart and that for sure came out while I was writing. I really want to see about making this a longer series once October ends, if anyone wants to see that leave a comment and let me know.

divider credit @royallaesthetics

The culture of the dwarves is much like their treasure, kept under lock and key. Histories, customs, and traditions all are played very close to the chest of the stubborn race. The only beings who are let in on the secret are those lucky enough to be a fated match.

There are different names for these matches in every culture, Soulmates, true loves, twin flames. The dwarves called them Ones. To find your One was said to be the best day of your life. At least that is what Kili thought, he wouldn’t know though. He hadn’t met his yet.

His uncle’s one had been the Hobbit, Bilibo took longer to fall than Thorin but fell just as hard if not harder than the dwarf. The two were very much in love, it was sickening. His mother’s One had been his father, and he doesn’t remember much about their time together. Fee’s One was a lovely lass that had come from the Blue Mountains to try and establish herself as a seamstress under the mountain.

All of them had told him how wonderful finding their Ones was, even Thorin whose One was not of the race of Dwarf and thusly did not feel the same pull that he had. Thorin had to actually make Bilbo fall in love with him, which amused Kili to no end because of how much their two personalities seemed to clash.

Kili hates spending time under the mountain now, he loves Erebor and takes pride in the fact that he was one of the brave few who had reconquered it, but everywhere he looked he saw people being happy with something he did not have.

The feeling went much deeper than those childhood squabbles he had had with Fili when the two pebbles would play together. Jealousy over toys was easily remedied, the ache that had recently taken up residence in Kili’s heart was much more difficult to push aside or fix.

So he had taken to going for walks. He had volunteered himself too many times to be the point of contact for the King of Dale. He had told Thorin it was because he wanted to prove that he could be trusted with matters of diplomacy. He might not be next in line, but he was still a prince and could take care of these things. It was on one of these trips to Dale that Kili met the very person who would change his life.

She was of the race of men and seemed to work in one of the few taverns that housed the nightlife of the town. Kili was in a sort of informal meeting with Bard, his son Bain, and the Captain of the Guard. They were discussing a deal between the two kingdoms where Erebor would provide the army of Dale with iron-forged armor and weapons and in turn, Dale would pledge their allegiance to the kingdom under the mountain in any future battle. Kili couldn’t help but find the humor in the reversal of roles as if the company had not asked and pledged the same things five years ago. This clause was only one of the facets that made up the current peace treaty in the works. It was Kili’s idea to have the meeting in a less tense and stuffy room than they were previously held in.

“Everybody has to eat Bard, why don’t we eat and talk at the same time? I’m sure we’d all be much more comfortable.” Bard had agreed at the behest of Bain who had laughed and reminded his father of the last time he had had a proper meal. After that, the men had embarked towards Bard’s favorite tavern. And judging by the way he had jovially called out to the man behind the bar, he was at least acquainted with the people who worked there.

Their waitress was a beautiful woman, who had skills like Kili had never seen, and he had been in a lot of taverns. She was able to carry three trays of piping hot food at the same time and at one point he had even seen her stack and move at least twelve pint glasses to a rowdier table towards the back of the establishment. And she did all this with the most beautiful smile he had ever seen.

If only he would actually get to talk to her. The tavern was busy and she seemed to be one of the only other people working besides the man behind the bar and whoever was preparing the food to be served. She was never in the same place for a very long time. After she had gotten their initial order she had placed their pints down and immediately zipped off to fulfill the next request.

Without the ability to actually talk to her, Kili had to settle for second-hand knowledge. “So what can you tell me about the woman who served us?” Kili asked nobody in particular.

“Why, do you fancy her?” Came Bain’s reply.

“No, but any woman that can carry that much and move that fast without wasting a drop is certainly one I want to get to know.”

“Her name is y/n, She’s apprenticed to Brant, the man who owns this tavern. She arrived in Dale a year or two ago. I think she's from Bree but she's settled here. I think she has an arrangement with him, when he finally retires the place will be hers.” Bard had explained, throwing a somewhat scolding glance at his son. Kili might be young and more carefree than his uncle but he is still a prince and Bard did not wish to offend him.

“Interesting, any idea why she left Bree? It’s quite a long journey to take on your own.” Kili asked.

“Why don’t you ask her?” A third, much more feminine voice replied. Kili who had not seen her make her way over to their table, had nearly jumped out of his skin. The other men tried and failed to hide their amusement at his predicament. “After all, I’m sure she’d be willing to tell you as long as she didn’t catch you talking about her when she wasn’t around.” She had said all of this with a smile spread across her face and delight in her voice. Kili wasn’t really sure how she felt about his impolite inquiries, but she hadn't chased him out of the establishment with a broom yet, so he thought he was okay.

“I’ve gotten everyone else settled and thought I’d come visit the King, how are you this evening King Bard?” her attention was firmly placed on the King of Dale now, and Kili longed for her piercing gaze to once again land on him.

“I’ve told you, it’s just Bard, all of this King nonsense will just go to my head,”

“Of course King Bard.” She smirked and turned towards the rest of the men. “Anything else I can get you, gentlemen?” With a firm nod at their newest order, she spun and headed back towards the bar.

“I think I’m in love.” Kili had said under his breath.

“I think it’ll take you much more than that to win her over.” Bain had replied, hearing Kili’s self-confession. “Every time we’re in here I see her turn down men. Granted, most of them are usually drunkards but the principle is all the same.”

Kili was certain that the fluttering in his chest and the feeling of light-headedness had to mean something. And given that both the feelings had started right after she had spoken to him, he was pretty sure he knew what it was.

“Here you are boys, four more pints and a basket of bread, on the house.” She had placed the basket of bread and little bowls of butter and honey on the table. When she pulled her hand away it bumped into Kili and sent a wave of shocks all the way up his arm.

#plus size reader #plus size!reader #fanfic #fluff #x reader #flufftober #kili durin #kili #thorin #bagginshield #just a little bit #kili x reader #kili the dwarf #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit #kili x you #kili x plus size reader #kili durin x reader #hobbit fic

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dseval · 3 months ago

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ArchiveVerse Dream

Welcome ArchiveVerse Dream, I am overall satisfied with the result of this character Intro.

I have also discovered the ideal workflow for these character intros, so I might be able to push more out faster (feeling self achievement right here)

Reaper's will be next, I am still contemplating who to do next. So please tell me if you have any requests, I will surely consider it :)

Ramble ahead, please check out the first ArchiveVerse post to understand most of the things I wrote here (some information in it is already redundant though).

★Info★

Ordenance is an academy for the strong and lawful, they enforce order in the Academy City under the authority of the General Student Council (GSC). The academy itself adopts a triumvirate system, where it is led by three heads. Dream is the First Head of Ordenance and he takes his role very seriously. The second head is Ink, and the temporary third head is Blue.

Nightmare, his twin brother, was previously the First Head of Ordenance. Nightmare is usually the one handling the administration, while Dream follows along. However, after the incident in which Nightmare accidentally almost destroyed Dream's halo (effectively almost murdering him), Nightmare got thrown into Juvie, and Dream is struggling to keep up.

Dream is a literal angel, always so polite and sweet. All students in Ordenance— even out of Ordenance admires and respects him. Dream would put others above himself, and this resulted in him being too busy to practically do anything else for himself.

Quick Facts:

His height is 165 cm.

His powers are fire and lightning. He is very capable of controlling his powers so it doesn't go haywire unlike most students.

He has wings on his waist, the wings are an extension of his halo. Halos disappear when students sleep, so Dream's wings disappear when he sleeps.

His eyelights turn starry whenever he's excited.

As the First Head of Ordenance, Dream holds the most authority in the academy, even more than the Second and Third head.

Is very polite, perhaps he had never even cussed.

Remembers a lot of people and names.

Dream is very popular, almost everyone knows his name and face.

Was always too busy to do anything for himself or to hang out with friends. He always tries his best to make schedule for anyone, though.

His favourite activities when he isn't too busy to do anything are taking a walk in the park, dancing, and archery.

Due to being too busy taking care of the academy, Dream struggles to keep up with news and gossip. He often only heard of a certain news months after it had happened.

He has deep eye bags, which he conceals with makeup.

Always sees the best in others.

Character Relationships:

He doesn't talk or meet with Nightmare that often. It's either something to do with Nightmare's reluctance and Dream being too busy. Even so, it's clear they miss and care about each other. Many people seem to not know they are twins.

He often receives news and updates about his brother from Reaper (who is the Juvenile Containment Supervisor).

Occasionally he hangs out with Cross at the park or at the cafe. They admire each other.

Blue was appointed as temporary Third Head of Ordenance to cover up Nightmare's absence. He often helps Dream with administration matters. Dream is very thankful for his presence and would do anything to return the favour.

He used to be stressed out by Ink's antics, as Ink often broke rules (yet he always gets away from it), mirroring his brother's concerns. But now he seems to find it amusing, letting Blue take care of Ink instead.

Is familiar with the names of the Juvie students due to the updates Reaper sent. Though he only knows how it concerns his brother. Such as Killer, Dust, and Horror calling Nightmare 'Boss' and giving him a headache.

Familiar with Error, as Error often went around causing trouble with Ink. He is unhappy that Error broke rules, but seem to be happy that Ink has a friend that understands him.

He goes to buy makeup monthly. Often bumping into Lust and Red (you guys will see these students later on) at the makeup store. They converse when these encounters happen.

Credits (please tell me if I missed anyone or if there is the typo!):

Dream Sans (and Nightmare Sans) by Jokublog

AU heavily inspired by Blue Archive, art style directly inspired by Mx2j, one of the artists for Blue Archive.

Mentioned characters: Cross Sans(Jakei), Reaper Sans(Renrink), Blue(popcornPr1nce), Ink(Comyet/Mye Bi), Killer(Rahafwabas), Dust(Ask-Dusttale blog), Horror(SourAppleStudios), Error(CrayonQueen/LoverOfPiggies), Lust(NSFWShameCave), Red(Underfella)

#long post #undertale multiverse #utmv #archiveverse #dream sans #i know he looks bald #i know he looks like he has long legs #either way im proud ✊✊#please do tell me if you had anyone you're interested in seeing next! i'll manage my queue

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persevereforahappyending · 7 months ago

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Maybe in Another Life |12|

Pairing: Clarisse La Rue x Hunter of Artemis!Reader

Summary: You are a Hunter of Artemis, but you start to question what you truly want when you meet Clarisse and get to know her.

Warnings: Slight Battle of The Labyrinth Spoilers

Word Count: 3.1k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

ch. 1 | ch. 2 | ch. 3 | ch. 4 | ch. 5 | ch. 6 | ch. 7 | ch. 8 | ch. 9 | ch. 10 | ch. 11 | ch. 12 | ch. 13 | ch. 14 | ch. 15 | ch. 16 | ch. 17

You were in Clarisse’s bathroom finishing setting up everything you’d need to create a rainbow. You had the shower running, Clarisse found a smaller mirror you could use to help reflect that light from the window to the mirror above the sink. It took a few minutes but once everything was positioned properly you pulled out a gold drachma, your last one, and tossed it into the rainbow.

You closed your eyes after a minute, silently hoping this would work. Your eyes snapped open when you heard Thalia’s voice, yelling at some of the other Hunters about how to set up the camp. You let out a shaky breath, the noise seeming to draw Thalia’s attention.

“Holy shit,” she whispered. “You’re alive.”

“Language!” You heard one of your sisters yell. A moment later she popped up through the mist, her eyes widening as soon as she saw you. “Oh, my gods, you’re alive!”

“Get Artemis,” Thalia demanded, your sister instantly took off at the order. “I can’t believe you’re alive, what happened?”

You nodded; you probably shouldn’t have been so surprised at their shock. You knew you had just up and disappeared, but you didn’t think they’d all assume you were dead.

“What’s going on?” Artemis’s voice came, a second later she appeared next to Thalia. She turned, her eyes widening upon seeing you.

“Apologies my goddess,” you rasped out. Your voice suddenly a lot drier than it had previously been. “I did not mean to disappear on you.” You bowed your head slightly.

“What happened?” Artemis asked softly. “We were beginning to think the worst.” Even through the iris message you could see the care and worry in your goddesses’ eyes. The loss of Zoe was still fresh and then you up and disappeared for you didn’t know how long, you were sure it wasn’t easy on Artemis or the Hunters.

“You look like shit,” Thalia said. Artemis quickly shot her a glare and Thalia was quick to mumble an apology. “Seriously, did you like take a shortcut through the underworld?”

“I wish,” you sighed. “I was downtown, picking up the ambrosia and nectar when I saw Clarisse.” Thalia’s widened in shock, but Artemis tilted her head at the unknown person. “She’s a daughter of Ares from camp Half-Blood.”

“The one you’ve been communicating with,” Artemis concluded.

Your entire body tensed up. Artemis knew you were talking to someone from camp you had befriended but she didn’t know much more. You were afraid of her knowing more, if she saw you and Clarisse together, there was no doubt in your mind that she’d pick up on the fact that you had feelings for the other girl. You might not have crossed any lines yet but that didn’t mean Artemis would be forgiving. She could decide Clarisse was a distraction and order you to cut contact with her. Still, you nodded nonetheless, confirming what Artemis already knew.

“She’s the one that’s been missing,” Thalia added. You furrowed your brow at that. You weren’t too surprised that Chiron and the camp knew she was gone but you weren’t sure how Thalia knew. “I talked to Annabeth.” Now that made sense.

“Chiron asked us to keep an eye out for a missing camper,” Artemis said. “He mentioned how they hadn’t met their check-in’s and last he heard from them they were still in the city.”

“How long were we gone?” You asked. You tried processing everything they were telling you. A day or two would be worrisome but not enough to inform others. If Chiron asked Artemis and the Hunters to keep an eye out that meant you had to have been in the labyrinth for a significant amount of time.”

“Three months.” Your eyes widened at that. You were thinking maybe a few weeks at most, not three whole months.

“It only felt like two days,” you mumbled to yourself. Two days in the labyrinth, one night, and yet on the outside world it had been three months.

“You found it,” Thalia whispered, her eyes widening.

Your eyes snapped back up to hers. You shouldn’t have been surprised that she knew about the mission. She talked to Annabeth regularly, they were best friends, she was probably the only person outside of Annabeth, Chiron, and Clarisse to know about it. You slowly nodded your head.

“What were you doing with her?” Artemis asked. “How did you end up in the labyrinth?” You weren’t even surprised that she knew as well, Chiron probably informed her what Clarisse was working on when she went missing.

“I saw Clarisse looking around a hotel across the street from where I was,” you said. “I knew she was on a secret mission but didn’t know what for. After she told me, I suggested searching the basement instead of outside the hotel.”

“You know she was supposed to just find the door not actually enter, right?” Thalia snarked.

You gave Thalia an unamused look. “That wasn’t intentional.” You glanced back to the closed bathroom door, you could hear Clarisse mumbling and moving around as she talked to Chris. “There was a monster, we took cover and it ended up being the door to the labyrinth.”

“Did you learn anything?”

“Yeah, we-” there was a loud bang as if something had been thrown at the bathroom door.

“What was that?”

You kept your attention on the door, ignoring Thalia’s question. There was more banging, and you heard Clarisse yelling. You took a step towards the door, ready to fling it open and help Clarisse with whatever she was dealing with. You waited a second and the banging eventually died down.

“You good?” you called out. You needed to be sure that Clarisse answered you and it hadn’t gotten quite because Chris did something.

“Yeah,” Clarisse called out, though it was muffled through the door.

You let out a shaky breath, looking up to the ceiling. “Sorry,” you said, shaking your head. “We found Chris.”

Thalia furrowed her brow. “Chris, Chris?” she asked. You nodded, watching as her eyes widened. “Chris Rodriguez, Chris?”

“Yeah.”

“Where the hell did you find him?” Thalia gestured with her hands.

“Arizona,” you sighed tiredly. Thalia raised her eyebrows at that. “We followed one of Hephaestus’ mechanical spiders, it led us to the door that got us out of the labyrinth which apparently was in Arizona.” You could only shrug, you were glad they knew about the labyrinth because your words sounded insane.

“And why is he still with you?” Thalia asked hesitantly.

You opened and closed your mouth a few times. You glanced back at the door as if you could see through it, you remembered the look Clarisse had in her eyes upon seeing Chris like that. You didn’t know how close Clarisse and Chris were before his betrayal, she had never mentioned him, but it was clear she cared for him. Getting him back to her house wasn’t easy, he fought the both of you at every turn, but Clarisse had still treated him with kindness. You wanted to just knock him out and drag him back, but she didn’t seem to want to hurt him.

“He’s not right,” you said quietly, looking down at the ground. “I don’t know what happened to him in the labyrinth but whatever it was,” you shook your head, flicking your gaze up to meet Thalia and Artemis’s. “It wasn’t good.”

“I’m glad you’re alright,” Artemis said. “Where are you now?”

“Clarisse’s,” you looked around. “Got lucky it seems, we popped out not to far from her place.”

“We’re camping for the night.”

“Where? I can meet you.” You didn’t want to leave Clarisse so soon after surviving what the two of you just did but you needed to be back with your sisters.

“Rest.” Though Artemis’s tone was soft you couldn’t help but frown. “You look like you need it. We’re leaving at first light, if you leave early morning, we should be able to meet up. You know our usual spot just north of you?”

“Of course,” you nodded. The Hunters always stopped in the same spot if they were passing by. It was a gorgeous natural area, somehow completely secluded and nearly untouched by humans. That was rare to find, and it also happened to be one of the best places to see the stars.

“See you then,” Artemis gave a final nod, then walked away.

You stood there for a moment, staring down at the floor. “Are you okay?” Thalia asked.

You let out a long breath. “The labyrinth…” you shook your head. “It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Luke might be trying to find a way to make it work for him, but Annabeth needs to be careful with whatever she’s planning.”

Thalia nodded; she was looking off to the side, deep in thought. You didn’t know Annabeth well, you truly only had met her twice, but she was Thalia’s best friend. Thalia didn’t seem thrilled about whatever Annabeth’s plan was. You weren’t sure if Thalia knew all the details about what Annabeth wanted to do but she knew enough and knew Annebeth well enough to be able to guess what her friend’s logic was.

“Do you want me to contact Chiron for you?” Thalia asked after a few seconds.

You shook your head. “Clarisse will,” you sighed. “Once I take over Chris watch.”

“Is he really that bad?”

You nodded. “I’d only ever heard the stories, people losing their mind in the maze, I never imagined it would be like this though.”

Thalia nodded. “I’m glad you’re not dead.” You couldn’t help but chuckle. “It would suck if that not even a year into being Artemis’s lieutenant I lost my second.”

“Had a close call but I don’t intend to die on you.”

Thalia tilted her head at your words, but she didn’t press. You weren’t ready to talk about what happened, you were still processing everything. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you then.” With that you ended the call.

Just as you ended the call you heard more shouting, and stuff being thrown around. You didn’t hesitate this time as you flung open the door and ran out into her bedroom. Your eyes widened at the scene before you. Chris was thrashing around on the bed, reaching for whatever he could get his hands on as Clarisse held him down by the shoulders, trying to pin him. His right hand was still tied, though loose, and he had somehow broken free of the restraint on his left hand.

You rushed forward, ripping the lamp out of Chris’s hand before he could smash it over Clarisse’s head. She glanced at you; eyes wide as they went from you to Chris to the lamp. You nodded at her as you grabbed Chris’s left arm, pushing him harder into the mattress. He was practically foaming at the mouth as he screamed and thrashed around.

You looked at Clarisse until she looked up at you again. “Sorry,” you whispered. She only had time to furrow her brow before you took one of your hands off of Chris and punched him in the face. You didn’t pay attention to Clarisse’s reaction as you punched him in the face two more times, finally knocking him out.

You slumped back, but unable to take your eyes off Chris, you were waiting for him to pop back up and try clawing your eyes out. “We need to restrain him better,” you finally said. “I know you don’t want to hurt him.” You glanced at Clarisse; but her eyes were still on Chris. “But it’s for the best. He could hurt himself or someone else otherwise.” You didn’t move from the side of the bed until Clarisse gave you a nod.

You re-tied and tightened the old fabric Clarisse had torn up to tie Chris to the headboard. You grabbed the extra pieces of fabric and tied them around his ankles then to the posts at the end of the bed. When you were done Clarisse got up from the bed, without a word she began digging through her bag until she pulled out some rope, handing it to you without so much as glancing in your direction. You tied the rope around the fabric as tight as you could without cutting off Chris’s circulation. The rope would hold him in place better, it was stronger, but the fabric underneath it would hopefully prevent it from digging into his wrists when he inevitably woke up and started thrashing around.

“I’m going to contact Chiron,” Clarisse mumbled before heading off to the bathroom.

You decided to plop yourself down in the chair at her desk. You kept an eye on Chris, he twitched every once in a while, like he was in a nightmare, but he didn’t wake up. You couldn’t help but glance around the room, it was like you were getting an inside look at Clarisse’s mind. She had a large stereo on a shelf and her walls were lined with posters, you assumed from bands based on some of them holding instruments. There were also books on famous wars, a few photos and art prints depicting famous battles. There were also weapons littered all over the place, swords and axes hanging form the walls, and daggers lying on table tops and under books.

“How’d it go?” you asked, pushing yourself out of the chair when Clarisse walked out of the bathroom.

“Chiron’s on his way,” Clarisse said. “Maybe he can help,” she glanced at Chris.

“I’m sorry.” You weren’t sure what you were apologizing for. You were sorry someone she clearly cared for was suffering, you were sorry you had to tie him up, you were sorry for being the reason she lost her spear, you were sorry for so much and yet ‘I’m sorry’ didn’t seem to be enough.

“It’s not your fault,” she mumbled, walking up to Chris’s side. She reached out, brushing some hair out of the way that was sticking to his forehead. “I used to have a crush on him.” It was nearly a whisper, but you heard it, you couldn’t help the way your heart dropped at those words. “Before he was a traitor.” She let out a humorless chuckle.

“What?” you couldn’t help but ask.

Clarisse shook her head. “My first crush turned out to be a traitor and my second…”

You dropped your eyes to the floor. Her first crush was a traitor and her second was you, a Hunter, someone she could never be with. “Really know how to pick ’em,” she sighed.

“I’m sure there’s someone out there for you,” you said softly. “And it will be someone that actually deserves you.”

You gave a half smile when you saw a small smile appear on Clarisse’s face, though it was a sad one. “Maybe I’m meant to be alone,” she shrugged.

You shook your head. “I don’t believe that. There’s someone out there that will be everything you desire; they’ll see you for how strong and incredible you truly are.” Clarisse finally looked up at you, meeting your eyes for the first time since you restrained Chris. “The only way you don’t end up with someone is if you decide that’s not what you want.”

Clarisse glanced around her room, avoiding eye contact with you once again, clearly trying to hide her emotions. “I assume you’re leaving,” she abruptly changed the subject.

“In the morning,” you said, allowing the subject change. “Hope it’s okay to crash on your couch.”

“Of course.”

After getting cleaned up and getting some clean clothes from Clarisse, since yours were covered in dirt and blood, you went downstairs to see Clarisse setting out a blanket and pillow for you on the couch. You didn’t know where her mom was and she hadn’t mentioned her, you figured her mom not being home was probably a common thing. It was still light out as you settled in for sleep, but your body was definitely feeling the toll the labyrinth had taken on it. Clarisse volunteered for Chris duty, she was going to sleep in her mom’s room, which was just down the hall, so she would be the closest anyway.

Sleep came easy for you; you didn’t wake up once. When you did wake up the rest of the house was silent, and it was still dark out. You glanced at the clock in the room, seeing it was just before sunrise. As quietly as you could you folded the blanket, sitting it and the pillow on the couch as nicely as you could. Then you grabbed your bag, making sure you had everything, and going through a mental checklist of anything you might need to get before meeting up with the others.

“You leaving?” Clarisse whispered.

You glanced back to see her standing at the bottom of the stairs, you had to give her credit, you hadn’t even heard her walk down the steps. “In a few minutes,” you said, closing up your pack. “Don’t worry, I was going to say goodbye.” You gave her a soft smile as you turned around to fully face her. “How was last night?” you nodded towards the stairs.

“Seems you knocked him out very well.” You couldn’t help but chuckle at that, you hadn’t meant to hit him quite that hard, but you were glad if it meant Clarisse finally got some sleep.

Before anything else could be said there was a knock at the door. You and Clarisse glanced at each other before she cautiously walked to the door. You reached for your bow as she turned the door handle, not relaxing your grip until you saw Chiron walk in.

“I’m glad you’re both okay,” Chiron said. “Where is he?”

“Upstairs,” Clarisse answered, pointing Chiron in the direction. “I’ll be up in a minute.”

You watched as Chiron disappeared up the stairs. You walked over to the front door where Clarisse was still standing. You reached out, brushing your fingers against hers, you were about to pull away when she intertwined your hands.

“He’ll be okay,” you whispered, giving her hand a soft squeeze.

She nodded. “Be safe and keep in touch,” she said, giving your hand a gently squeeze back.

With that you made your way out her front door. You looked back once, watching as she finally closed the door behind you. You truly hoped Chiron would be able to help Chris, no one deserved to be going through what he was. You gave a final look at the house, not sure when you’d see Clarisse again before turning and making your way to the place you’d meet your sisters.

Taglist: @cxcilla @touchmyfracturedomens @luclue @manu-007s-world @death-in-love @nenas19 @mynameiskaci @danonered

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x you #clarisse x reader #pjo #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #maybe in another life

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