#Ive hurt and lost someone I care about because i lashed out when I was having a breakdown

[evilcartoonghosts]

There is blood on the snow, and it is not yours. There is blood on your hands, and it is not yours. There is blood in your mouth, and it is not yours. It drips down into your eyes, red film like tears when you blink. It is not yours. You can hear a heartbeat. It quickens. It slows. It halts. It is still not yours. What have you done? What have you done? What have you done?

[mariisauruslove]

Dear Ahmad,

Its taken me a long time to decide whether I should respond to anything you’ve said. In truth, i know my silence was louder and that’s why I didnt say anything. At first, however, i thought that night that i should just give it time. Then literally the next morning, less than 12 hrs from when it happened, you decide to cut me off? Because what? You’re overstimulated? You’re stressed? I didn’t even get enough time to process what happened. You cant force anyone to work on your schedule. Then you message again asking if we’re ever going to talk about it like you didnt just end the friendship? Like i was nothing? Just completely hurt me again and again. And you’re right, there is some responsibility of my own to that, and that is to stop letting you treat me this way. It’s not okay. You constantly treat me so ugly when ive done nothing but love you authentically and purely. I’m not your scapegoat. You dont just lash out on me to feel better. Being your friend doesnt give you a pass to treat me like shit. And instead of apologizing, change your behavior because it’s happened multiple times. Oh and my apologies that apparently mean less because i do it so often? It’s because you’re unpredictable and you lash out at me. The apologies happen because I’m trying to not step on your toes and upset you. And it only happens with you. Because I don’t feel safe with you. Its why i couldn’t climax with you. My body doesn’t feel safe.

I loved you so fucking much for you to break me this way. I don’t understand why. Like honestly why. The first night i was next to you, you were upset I wasn’t kissing you with passion. And how tf are you going to tell me that you were feeling something with me and then youre over there in love with her? Make it make sense. You never felt anything. Just lust. You didn’t care about me or how i felt. All i did for you genuinely out of love, it was to your benefit and my expense.

I hope you hear the loudness of the void where my presence used to be. And i hope you consume yourself in it and reflect that you fucked up deeply because you lost the best damn thing that happened to you. A love that cuts deeper than a knife, it was too good to be true. I am disgusted that I let someone like you touch me this way. You’re narcissistic, manipulative and a liar. You said i wasnt in your cycle and its all bullshit, because i wasnt the only girl you reeled in, fucked and then tried to be friends with like nothing happened. You keep these women around for your convenience and congratulations, because it’s so fucking believable that you care. Looking at me, kissing me, touching me the way you did. I really believed you loved me in some way. But how fucking stupid do you think i am? You lost me. But its okay because you didnt truly care about me, you cared what I provided for you, which was a safe space for you. And you took advantage of that by thinking it was okay to lash out at me, even when it wasnt i who you were mad at. Oh and the fun part? When i actually had problems? Its was nice to hear you just throw it back in my face. I truly appreciate it.

I knew you deeper than you knew yourself and i knew you were afraid of me because youve never experienced someone like me. Your eyes cant lie. I see through you. And that’s what scares you. You didn’t know the impact i was making on you until it was taken right under you. You took me for granted, thought I was going to be there for you at your beck and call. No, sir. I’m much more clever than that. And im worth so much more than that.

Youve taken enough of me. Youve hurt me enough and because of it all, you lost me. And i will be the one that got away. And youll try to get over me, ask yourself who tf I am. And that’s when youll realize I am the woman who loved you more than anyone else. It must be really embarrassing to be you right now. I can only imagine how stupid you feel. But that sounds like a YOU problem. I hope you heal from your bullshit and not rationalize your actions. Bon journée, mon chéri.

[waitimcomingtoo]

The Hint

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!reader

Synopsis submitted by @jasmine11685: Peter gets jealous when you have to flirt with someone on a mission

Masterlist

“Wow.”

That was the only word Peter could say as you descended the staircase in a form fitting black dress. The slit up the side added an elegant touch, something needed for the ball you were going to.

“You look pretty “wow” yourself.” You smiled shyly as you lifted the hem of your dress to walk towards him. “The suit is a nice change from the flannels, though I do love those.”

Peter opened and closed his mouth a few times, but no words formed in his brain. As soon as you put your hands on his collar to tuck it under his suit jacket, his name was lost on his and all he knew was yours.

“So this is what it’s like to be speechless.” He chuckled nervously as you straightened his jacket.

“Shut up.” You giggled as your face flushed. “Your ties a little crooked.”

“Thanks.” Peter whispered as you adjusted his tie. “You look beautiful. Like, the kind of beautiful that makes you want to cry when you look at it.”

“Thank you.” You laughed again, out of habit. You looked at Peter through your eyelashes as your shaking hands slid down his jacket.

“Nervous?” He asked softly when he noticed your unsteady demeanor.

“A little.” You smiled weakly. “It’s uh, it’s a shame I’m gonna have to waste all this beautiful on some douche who won’t appreciate it.”

“Well I appreciate it.” Peter assured you. “All of it. What is your mission exactly?”

“I just have to get some information out of Harry Osborn. Apparently he’s the only one who knows what’s his father has been doing up at Oscorp. We have to find out his plans before he does something dangerous. Could you help me with this?” You asked as you handed him a diamond necklace. You turned around and Peter carefully moved your hair off of your back.

“Oh.” He said in surprise as he clasped the necklace around your neck. “And how are you planing on getting that information?”

“I’m gonna flirt with him like my life depends on it.” You said confidently as you turned back around. “Because who knows? It might.”

Peters face twitched in confusion as his eyebrows knit together. He felt a white hot jealousy run all the way to his scalp when he learned about the plan.

“You have to flirt with that asshole?” Peter laughed nervously and cleared his throat. “He’s a total playboy. He’s probably never done his own laundry a day in his life.”

“I think I can handle him.” You winked at him as you touched your your lipstick. “And his laundry.”

“I have no doubt in your abilities. I just wish you didn’t have to use them on him.” Peter said, mostly to himself.

“It’s fine, Pete.” You assured him. “I’m actually excited to do it.”

“Excited?” Peter began to sweat.

“Yeah.” You grinned in excitement. “This is the biggest role I’ve ever had in a mission. I really want to do a good job so I can impress my dad. That means I’m gonna have to pull out my best flirting.”

“Your best flirting?” Peter was really beginning to panic now.

“Yup. I need this boy to fall in love with me.” You told him. “Watch, by the end of the night, he’ll be putty in my hands.”

“I don’t think you should do this, Y/n.” Peter blurted. “I think we should get Natasha or someone else to do it. You shouldn’t have to be the shiny object we use to distract the enemy.”

“I’m fine with it, Pete. My dad didn’t give me this role because I’m pretty. He gave me this role because I have good communication and manipulation skills. Plus, I’m closest to Harry’s age. It all works out.”

“He could be really dangerous.” Peter protested. “You could get hurt.”

“I’m really dangerous.” You stated. “And he’s definitely gonna get hurt.”

“Just be careful, okay?” Peter sighed, making you look at him. You walked over to him and cupped his face in your hands, making his breath hitch in his throat.

“I got this, Petey.” You said gently. “I know you’re worried about me, but you have no reason to be. I can do this. And you, Sam, and my dad are gonna be listening the whole time. We’re gonna catch this guy. I know it.”

“I just don’t want you getting hurt. If things go wrong-“

“They won’t.” You cut him off. “Go ask my dad. He drew up every possible outcome of this plan and they all end with Harry getting his ass kicked.”

“Okay.” Peter nodded and gave you a smile. “I’ll go talk to Mr. Stark.”

~

“You just had to believe in her.” Peter grouched as he barged into Tony’s office. “You just had to recognize her talent and trust her enough to carry the mission.”

“I’m sorry. Is that anger directed towards moi?” Tony touched a hand to his chest. “Are you mad at me?”

“Yeah, I am.” Peter said. “You know I like Y/n and sent her off to flirt with the richest playboy in New York City?”

“Hey.” Tony said sternly. “Playboy is my thing.”

“Why did you have to make her do this job?” Peter whined. “She’s gonna fall in love with him and forget all about me.”

“He’s a criminal, Peter.” Tony reminded him.

“So? Girls love that!” He protested. “You remember how she acted around Loki.”

“Don’t remind me.” Tony rolled his eyes. Peters face shifted back to his forlorn expression and Tony saw how much this was hurting him.

“Look, kid, don’t sweat this mission.” He said as he put a hand on Peters shoulder. “She’s just gonna get the information she needs from Harry and you’ll never have to worry about him again. You can go right back to your little will-they-won’t-they bullshit or whatever it is you’re doing.”

“I have a plan.” Peter insisted. “And Harry is going to put a serious wrench in my plan, thanks to you.”

“You have a plan?” Tony doubted. “Ive been watching you pine after my daughter for years. When is this plan going into action exactly?”

“I’m just going to think really hard about how I’m in love with her and wait until she realizes.” Peter mumbled as he adverted his eyes.

“Yeah?” Tony cocked his head. “And how’s that going for you?”

“I think she’s just about to get the hint.” Peter said and Tony let out a groan.

“Kid, just ask her out.” He reasoned. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“She could hear me.” Peter stated. “And then say no.”

“She’s never gonna take the hint unless you actually give her the hint.” Tony reasoned. “Why don’t you try tonight? She’ll be all giddy from successfully completing the mission. Perfect time to confess those bottled up feelings.”

“I don’t know.” Peter sighed. “Maybe.”

~

An hour later, you were making eyes at Harry from the bar. After locking eyes a few times, you signaled for him to come over.

“Hey.” Harry knocked on the bar twice and looked down at you. He sized you up before smiling in approval and sending you a nod.

“Hey.” You gave him a sultry smile as he sat down.

“You all by yourself?” He asked as he drummed his fingers on the bar.

“I was.” You took a sip and looked at him through your lashes. “Until you came along.”

“Mind if I stay?” He raised an eyebrow as he flagged down the bartender. You made a face as he ordered a drink before smiling at him.

“I prefer it.” You flirted.

“Good.” He accepted his drink and took a long sip. “I don’t like being told no.”

“Then you better give me something to say yes to.” You leaned on your hand and leaned towards him. Inside, you were gagging at his arrogance. On the outside, you were eating it up.

And that made two of you.

“Oh God.” Peter gagged as he listened to the banter through his ear piece. “This is torture.”

Sam, who was standing next to him as they both kept an eye on you, gave Peter a look.

“Relax, kid.” He sighed. “She’s just doing her job.”

“You’re a pretty bold girl. I like that.” Harry cupped your chin before releasing it. “Just not as bold as me.”

“Oh yeah?” You raised an eyebrow, grabbed his drink, and downed the rest before slamming the glass down. “How about now?”

“Oh, you are going to get me into trouble.” Harry chuckled and he scooted closer to you. Peter watched in disdain as the jealousy coursed through his veins again.

“That doesn��t sound so bad.” You crawled. “Don’t you like trouble?”

“I love it.” He insisted as he held out his hand. “My names Harry Osborn. You’ve probably heard of me.”

“I have.” You smirked as you shook his hand. “I’m Y/n.”

“Why is she talking like that?” Peter whined upon hearing your flirty tone. “She never talks like that.”

“Because she’s not trying to sleep with you, dummy. Thats why.” Sam snorted as he continued to watch.

“What?” Peter snapped his head towards Sam. “She’s not trying to sleep with that guy. She’s just getting information out of him.”

“Yeah well, guys tend to talk a lot more once you’ve tired them out.” Sam shrugged as he sipped his own drink. Pete’s face fell as he stared Harry down with daggers in his eyes.

“She wouldn’t do that.” Peter mumbled.

“Shhh.” Sam waved his hand. “I’m trying to listen.”

“So,” you took another sip from your drink, “Whats it like being the son of one of the most powerful men in the city? Wasn’t your dad like, 25 when he founded Oscorp.”

“23, but who’s keeping score.” Harry shrugged as he looked around the room. “I’ll probably do something like that soon. Maybe something even bigger. I already have a lot of ideas. Pretty impressive, huh?”

“Totally.” You egged him on but rolled your eyes when he looked away. “Do you ever get to watch his experiments?”

“Baby, I’ve seen just about all of them.” Harry bragged as he played with your dangling earrings. “He’s done things you wouldn’t believe. Things that aren’t even legal.”

“Yeah?” Your eyes widened in excitement and you leaned in closer. “Like what?”

“I can’t tell you here.” Harry pulled away suddenly and sighed. “I don’t want anyone hearing.”

“Alright.” You purposefully took the bait. “Then let’s talk somewhere else.”

“Do you know a place?” He played nonchalant as he put a hand on your knee. Peter watched the scene in front of him and looked away.

“Yeah. My bedroom.” You smirked and stood up. “Let’s go there.”

“Bold.” Harry rubbed his hands together and stood up as well. “You’re dangerous.”

You took his hand and lead him towards the elevator, feeling the gun that was strapped to your thigh brush against your leg as you walked.

“You have no idea.” You mumbled. You passed Sam and Peter and gave them a nod as you lead Harry towards his interrogation. Peter looked like he was ready to fight someone and Sam looked entirely amused. You gave them a thumbs up before leading Harry upstairs.

~

“What’s the craziest thing your dad has done?” You asked as you sat down on the bed. You flicked your leg out and pretended to examine your heels to draw his attention. Harry took the bait and held your ankle in his hands, admiring the fancy shoes Mr. Stark had given you for the mission.

“Why do you want to know?” He asked coyly as he looked up at you.

“Because I like to get a little crazy myself and I want to know how much you can handle.” You shrugged as you shook your hair out. Peter gulped as he listened, feeling his jaw tighten in anger. Tony joined him and Sam at their post and looked around for you and Harry.

“How’s the mission going?” He asked when he didn’t see you anywhere.

“Horrible.” Peter grumbled.

“She didn’t get him to the secondary location?” Tony worried.

“She did.” Sam cut in. “Peters just mad that his girlfriend just found herself a boyfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Peter snapped. “Maybe she would have been if Mr. Stark wasn’t a destroyer of young love.”

“Parker, quiet.” Sam commanded. “I’m trying to listen.”

“How do I know I can trust you?” Harry folded his arms as he looked down on you.

“You can trust me.” You told him as you reached up to grab his tie. You used it to pull yourself up and off the bed before planting a kiss right on his mouth.

“What was that?” Peter touched his fingertips to his ear piece when he heard silence from your end.” Why did she pause?”

“She didn’t pause.” Sam shook his head as he checked his watch.

“Then what-“

“She kissed him.” Tony cut in while giving Peter an apologetic look.

“She kissed him?” All the color drained from Peters face and Tony felt he was to blame.

“You know the Green Goblin?” Harry asked once you pulled away.

“Yeah.”

“That’s my dad.” Harry admitted, and Tony and Sam quickly wrote it down.

“No way.” You pretended to be impressed. “I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true. He was dying so he invented this serum to keep himself alive. It ended up giving him all these crazy abilities.” Harry boasted, incriminating himself further. “And he’s got this glider that he can fly around on. You’d love it. It’s very shiny.”

“Wow. I love shiny.” You gushed, fighting the urge to punch him in the throat then and there. “How much serum did he make?”

“He has one more vile that he said he’d give to me when I’m older.” Harry tweaked his eyebrow as he smirked.

“So you’re gonna be the next Green Goblin? Isnt he a bit of a bad guy?” You continued to draw information out of him as your fingers danced around his collar.

“Maybe I am bad guy.” Harry shrugged. “Like father, like son.”

Harry leaned in to kiss you again but you dodged it and laughed as you moved away.

“Bad, huh?” You composed yourself so you wouldn’t be suspicious. “What else has he done?”

“He gave one of our scientists these metal arms. They can rip a person in half. Ive seen it happen.” Harry continued to brag and you recorded every word of it.

“Dr. Occtavius.” Tony realized. “That’s how he got his weapons.”

“Thats crazy.” You gasped and played with his hair. “What’s your dad gonna do?”

“He’s basically forming a league of bad guys.” Harry shrugged like it was no big deal. “Guys way worse than the Avengers.”

“Does he have a problem with the Avengers?” You wondered.

“My dad hates them. I hate them too.” Harry scoffed and you held back a laugh. “That’s why we’re gonna wipe them out. New York can’t rely on a bunch of guys in dress up, and we’re gonna show them that.”

“How are you going to do that?”

“With an attack on New York City on the 8th.” Harry told you, and Tony immediately wrote it down. “The Avengers won’t know what hit them.”

“That sounds pretty scary. Will you keep me safe?” You batted your eyelashes at him and he ate it up.

“I can’t listen to this.” Peter took out his earpiece and slammed it on the counter. “I’m going in there.”

“Parker! Stay where you are and - you know what? I don’t care.” Sam shrugged it off and continued to listen to your conversation.

“Of course baby.” He cupped your face in his hands. “It’s gonna be a direct hit on the Avengers tower. A pretty thing like you won’t be anywhere near there.”

“Actually”, you took his hands off your face and dropped your smile, “I will.”

“What?” Harry’s face faltered at your sudden mood change.

“Did you get that guys?” You touched your fingers to your ear piece and waited for the confirmation. “Copy that, dad.”

“What?” Harry’s face twisted in anger. “You’re an Avenger?”

“Look at you! So smart. You figured it out.” You said sarcastically.

“No.” Harry shook his head. “I don’t believe you. There’s no way you’re an Avenger. You’re my age and a chick.”

“Not just an Avenger. I’m a Stark too. Want me to prove it to you?” You asked casually.

“How?” Harry raised an eyebrow. You gave him a swift punch to the throat that knocked him on his back.

“Like that.” You blew your hair off your forehead as you checked your nails.

“You bitch.” Harry wheezed from the floor.

“You see, I can’t have you and your father attacking my friends.” You crouched down beside him and shrugged. “I’m gonna have to take you in.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” Harry swiped at you but you dodged it.

“I know. But this cute little microphone recorded everything you said and sent it to the police.” You pouted and pointed to your mic. “They should be here soon. You might want to wipe the lipstick off your face before the get here.”

“I’m not going to prison.” Harry grumbled as he sat up.

“Aw, but you are.” You said as you pulled him off the floor and put his hands behind his back. “Daddy can’t bail you out of this one, like how he bailed you out of your 17 parking tickets.”

“How do you know about that?” Harry asked as he looked over his shoulder at you.

“I know everything, bitch.” You leaned into his ear to growl.

“No. I’m not going down for this.” Harry broke out of your hold and swung at you. You dodged the first one, but he got you right in the jaw with the second one. You stood up and got ready to fight him as he put his fists up.

“You’re not even that pretty.” He exclaimed as he swung at you again. Right as his fist collided with your face, Peter burst in the door.

“Yes she is!” Peter shouted as he jumped on Harry’s back. Harry threw Peter onto the bed and lunged for you again. You close-lined him with your arm and dug your heel into his back once he was on the ground.

“Peter? What are you doing here?” You asked as you stepped on Harry’s back harder with your heel. “I got this.”

“There’s something I have to tell you.” Peter panted as he got off the bed.

“You won’t get away with this. I will sue!” Harry writhed around beneath your heel.

“Can it wait?” You asked as you pulled Harry off the ground. “I’m a little busy.”

“It can’t wait.” Peter shook his head as you shoved Harry against the wall. “There’s something I’ve been holding in for a long time and I need to tell you.”

“I wouldn’t even bother dude.” Harry said with his face squished against the wall. “She’s a total bitch.”

“Was I talking to you?” Peter growled before shooting a web at Harry’s wrists to handcuff him.

“Ohhh I see.” Harry laughed humorlessly. “Spiderman is mad that I stole his girlfriend.”

“Can you shut up? I’m trying to have a conversation here.” You barked at Harry. “I’m sorry, Peter. Please continue.”

“I didn’t want you to flirt with Harry tonight because you can do a lot more than just sit still and look pretty.” Peter began.

“I know that, Peter.” You nodded.

“I also didn’t want you to flirt with him because I was jealous.” He confessed.

“Jealous?” You asked as you put Harry in the hotel chair and began to tie him up.

“He likes you, stupid.” Harry grumbled. You shot Harry and angry look, but when you looked back at Peter, he was nodded.

“He’s right.” Peter admitted , taking you by surprise.

“You like me?” You lips twitched into a smile as you tightened Harry’s rope. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was scared you wouldn’t like me back. You’re my best friend, Y/n.” Peter said softly. “If you didn’t like me back, everything would change. We’d still be friends but it wouldn’t be the same. I didn’t want to risk that.”

“I’m sorry.” You frowned. “I should’ve been more clear then.”

“Do you seriously have to do this here?” Harry whined and you smacked him on the back of the head.

“Clear about what?” Peter wondered.

“That I like you too.” You smiled sheepishly at him. Tony listened to the confession over the ear pierce and smiled to himself.

“There you go kid.” He mumbled to himself. “She got the hint.”

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[mokutone]

tags from @kakashihasibs on this post

#ive been thinking about this post all afternoon and evening and night lol #i dont think we see yamato outwardly express anger ever (at least in the episodes we see) #like the closets he gets is when he's annoyed at naruto and even then that seems more playful or frustrated than properly angry #even when he is yelling at Bee and Naruto he doesn't seem ACTUALLY angry #but like how could he not be angry? #like everything that's happened to him? to people he loves? it's gotta be in there #you can't face the evils he's faced and not come out the other end at least a little angry #yam is too nice for his own good #sometimes #I think the biggest reason he represses his anger so thoroughly is bc i think a part of root is specifically repressing 'negative' emotions #i feel like i can remember a line from danzō about how emotions can lead to hate #but also focusing so much on the 'negative' emotions might be to keep root agents from turning that anger and resentment towards #Danzō and root itself #like another way of keeping kids in line is teaching them anger (especially justified anger) is a dangerous emotion #and with the extra focus on that perhaps that still something yamato isn't able to express properly #but also yam cares a good deal for naruto and probably for Bee too #he might not WANT to be angry at them #maybe he keeps it repressed so he doesnt lash out at someone he loves? #hmmmmmmmmm #i love him #someone needs to needle him until he snaps #get that anger out my guy #at least in the episodes that I'VE** seen #i did not mean to say we #whoops

enthusiastically points at these tags. enthusiastically points at these tags. enthusiastically points at these t-

im going to chatter abt them below the cut specifically i think about. why he might be afraid of allowing himself to be angry + im gonna talk a lil bit about danzō + root's role in all this i think.

image descriptions for all images are in alt text

SO!!!! YEAH!!!!! YEAH EXACTLY...

these tags are so very right...we do see him get frustrated, or have that knee jerk kind of "no!!! you're horrible!!!" reaction at Naruto + Killer Bee when they scare him shitless, but ur right...that's not a serious anger that's a "You scared me!!! don't do that I was worried!!!!" and annoyance at most. frustration. it comes and it passes easily...

alas that kakashi is VERY good at needling him (admittedly in a friendly and affirming way), but yamato probably would want to be mad at kakashi least of all!

i think you're right that he probably doesn't want to lash out at the people he loves, or risk hurting them especially with an emotion he doesn't or won't let himself understand well

but also. i think he might feel a lot of guilt tied up in his anger as well...so it's not just an "I don't want to hurt the people I care about" thing, but also kind of a,

"What right do I have to be this mad?" "Do I feel I'm deserving of better treatment? Better circumstances? I am and have been incredibly lucky. What a selfish thought."

type of deal. which is. ough.

LIKE. the way he might see it...he was the Only one of the 60 mokuton kids in the lab to survive (how lucky)

and then when he did survive danzō was like. "if things had gone even slightly differently, your life would've only been that of an experiment, but he lost interest in you, and I picked you up." (how lucky)

and then, amongst all the Root shinobi, danzō, the leader of root, decides to train him personally, indicating a particular favoritism or attention towards him (how lucky 🤮)

this one particularly i want to point at.

because if Danzō singles Kinoe out as a favorite, all of these other Root shinobi, especially the other kids who are completely emotionally neglected...would likely feel jealous of the attention and favor that Kinoe receives, perhaps especially because he's young, perhaps especially if he is not the strongest (what has he done to deserve such special attention? etc etc)—which would isolate Kinoe even within the already isolating experience of being in Root.

its technically a position of privilege, but the privileged is of being the closest in proximity to the worst man in Konoha, instead of waiting to the side, trying to draw his attention and approval. And the "benefits" might include the jealousy and judgmental eye of Kinoe's fellow agents.

(no wonder he latched onto Kakashi so fast, if that was the situation. Kakashi has his own problems with Being Nice and everything, but if Kinoe is hearing "you aren't worthy of the abuse you're receiving" the fact that Kakashi thinks that Tenzō is not just worthy of sparing but. worthy of rescuing. even when Kakashi's recovering from Kinoe's attempt on his life. is. well. How could he even begin to process that?)

but ah. but still...when Tenzō departs Root for the final time, he thanks Danzō for everything he's done for (to) him.

(And, in the Tsukkuyomi, Yamato expresses a want to take over team Kakashi, and then an immediate guilt and horror at his own selfishness, for wanting the spot which Kakashi occupies, when he had a position at Anbu he was supposed to return to. Who is he, to want something like that? Who is he, to want what Kakashi has?)

Does he understand that he doesn't have to be grateful all the time, for everything, for the slightest scraps? I worry so much! Does he know that he doesn't have to thank people for not having been worse to him? Yamato, you're allowed to ask for more! You're allowed to want things!

I think that working alongside Sai has to be both extremely good and fairly painful for him in this regard. I'm sure Yamato could find a way to forgive or excuse Danzō's actions towards himself—especially if he thinks he was in some way lucky to have that situation.

But Sai? Sai is a different person. Sai isn't him, doesn't have his baggage—maybe he can see in Sai, what he cannot in himself! A kid who didn't deserve any of that, and is struggling in the aftermath. I like to think that, even if Yamato could forgive Danzō at the time for how he was treated, he could not ever forgive Danzō for how Sai has been treated.

I think he gives Sai a lot of leeway in expressing himself and picking fights with his teammates that he might not if he wasn't aware of Sai's situation, because I think he knows how important it is to let Sai uhhhh. hm. To let sai be completely fucking unhinged, for a bit. A line has to be drawn sometimes, but.

Yamato voice: I think he should be allowed to be a little malevolent. As a treat. Get it out of his system.

anyway. god. this reminded me of a comic i'd started Literally About This Concept that I absolutely forgot I was trying to work on

[stxleslyds]

Red Hood and the lost art of telling Joker to shup up.  

Okay, I know that I talked about Jason and Joker in a recent post but this is something different, I promise.

I really want to talk about how different Jason has been written since UtRH when it comes to him confronting Joker. Jason hasn’t been put in that position a lot but the times that he has, he lets Joker talk for far too long and actually pays attention to whatever he has to say.

The Jason vs Joker thing is basic in on itself and letting Joker talk isn’t exactly the problem here, the real problem is Jason letting Joker’s thoughts shape his future thoughts and decisions, I do understand that that’s exactly what writers want though, they want to build the problematic of: “Jason is just like Joker and the fact that he uses the name Red Hood only proves that Joker made who Jason is now”.

But the thing is that THAT problem is overdone at this point and the only time it worked was the first time it was brought up and it worked because Jason shut the Joker down.

Let’s see all the times (that I remember) the Joker and Jason have had a little chat and/or the times Joker’s words actually influence Jason’s thinking and decision making.

 Under the Red Hood – Batman (1940) #649

This is the first real confrontation we get to see between Jason and Joker after Jason’s death and it is beautiful. It's absolutely amazingly written, Joker goes on and on forever about how he killed Jason about how Jason is just as bad as him but that he is also just like Batman because he hasn’t killed him yet.

“You let me live after everything I did, you couldn’t pop my balloon. You just couldn’t. The apple doesn’t tumble too far from the paterfamilias. You are just like daddy-kins”

Jason lets him talk, yes. But he absolutely destroys Joker with what he tells him next.

“You couldn’t be more wrong about me. If right were a country on earth you’d be circling on the edge of the milky way. Yeah, I let you live but like always, every damned minute of your addled, posturing, psychopathic life, you think this is about you. You’re a worm. I’ve pitched you on a hook and dropped you into the brine. And I will beat the hell out of you Pagliacci because it was too much fun not to.”

“Listen to me Joker, I’m not you. I´m nothing like you. I know what I do and I know why I do it. You, you are, clinically speaking, a whack-job. But I know a secret, a good one.”

“You are not nearly as crazy as you would like us all to believe or even as crazy as you would like to believe. It just makes it easier to justify every sick monstrous thing you’ve ever done when you play the part of the mad clown. You are crazy, bubba, but you ain’t that crazy. Look at that. I wiped a smile off of Joker’s face. I have been waiting a long time for that.”

Everything about this is perfect, Jason gives Joker no room to mess with him. Whatever the Joker had planned on saying he had to eat because Jason wasn’t playing games and he was ready for any kind of lie the Joker had ready to tell. This is Jason Todd. He won’t let the Joker get under his skin because he knows the Joker and he, also, knows better. 

Red Hood and the Outlaws (2011) #15

Here Jason comes across Joker during the “Death of the Family” event. In this issue the Joker has information about all of the members of the “Batfamily” and he uses that to mess around with each one of them, in Jason’s case he insinuates that he was present in very specific moments of his life when Jason’s father got shot, when his mother overdosed and when he was on his own before joining Batman.

Jason doesn’t quite believe that Joker was there but as the reader, we can see this sort of sense of doubt in Jason. He hesitates a few times before resolving that the Joker is playing with him.

But as far as this issue goes let’s just say that what the Joker says doesn’t get to Jason, this changes though in the issue that follows up this story.

Teen Titans (2011) #16

This is where that story continues and where Jason starts to buy the story that Joker is selling.

Joker convinces Jason that he has his father and Tim’s father and that the only way for Jason (or Tim) to save their dads is by killing the other (Jason or Tim). Tim doesn’t believe it but Jason is ready to shoot Tim almost immediately.

However, Jason changes his mind about killing Tim just as Tim comes up with a plan for them to not actually have to kill each other. Here is where Lobdell’s writing shows all of its flaws, Lobdell is so desperate to show that Jason and Tim are besties that he forgets that Jason had no reason to stop trying to kill Tim to save his shit father because it is later revealed that Jason truly believed that Joker had found his father and had him captive. It wasn’t until Tim explained his thought process as to why those men weren’t their dads that Jason just goes “you realize, of course, the only reason I didn’t kill you right off is that I knew your big brain will figure out some way out of this” HA, nice save Lobdell but I see right through your bullshit.

Jason bought what the Joker was selling and that is the beginning of Jason’s downgrade when it comes to not playing Joker’s games.

Red Hood and the Outlaws (2011) #17

Well, in this issue Lobdell goes back to Jason kinda not believing what Joker told him, and Jason asks Bruce of all people if he thinks the Joker truly “made him or not”. Bruce says that he doesn’t believe that and that he didn’t have anything to do with the man that Jason has become either. For some reason, Jason is actually happy with what Bruce said and for a couple of moments, Jason goes back to being sure that the Joker knows nothing and that he is his own man.

It doesn’t last long though. At the very end of the issue, the trap that Joker had set up in Jason’s helmet triggers and Jason gets his face fucked up with acid or something.

But that’s not all because a hologram of Joker has something to say: “you were supposed to be my masterpiece from start to finish. But you were too stubborn to stay dead. So here is what we are going to do… You’re so determined to be your own man? Fine, let’s start with a clean slate”.

Basically, the Joker insinuates once more that he had something to do with who Jason was supposed to become and that Jason isn’t truly “his own man”, This is all a setup for a very dense storyline that will be continued in this run later.

Red Hood and the Outlaws (2011) #18

In this issue, Jason is in a coma after he is dosed with that gas in the previous issue. The Joker isn’t really present in this issue but he does make an appearance as part of Jason’s “nightmare” while he is unconscious.

That’s not all though, Jason has an illusion of Ducra (someone that he appreciates a lot), telling him that “after you left the All-Castle after you went back to the world you continued to let your life be defined by the actions of that man. You became a killer, lashing out at people who may or may not have deserved it. Eventually, you will hurt all those you have cared for. In that way, how are you any different from the Joker?”.

In this statement, there is a lot of wrongs that can come from two places, either bad writing on Lobdell’s part or just Ducra telling lies as a plot point.

“Let your life be defined by the actions of that man” is a sentence that horribly simplifies Jason’s thinking during the events of UtRH, because while he did resent the Joker, his real problem was with Bruce who had not avenged his death by killing the Joker himself. Also, Jason was doing other things back then, like being a pain in the ass for Black Mask and disrupting the drug trade in Gotham as well as trying to control the drug dealing to children. So that little sentence is just a gross misinterpretation of the true events which means that Ducra was wrong, and “she” continues to be wrong when she says that there might be no difference between Jason and Joker.

Luckily Jason thinks the same because he tells “Ducra”: “…don’t you dare compare me to that monster Ducra. I am nothing like the Joker! Nothing!”

Once again please don’t be fooled by Jason’s thinking because in the next issue it turns around really fast and really bad.

Red Hood and the Outlaws (2011) #19

Just a heads up this issue has a change of writer, Lobdell isn’t writing this arc, the writer that gives us this hellish story arc is James Tynion IV.

All that talk about Jason not being affected or not believing what the Joker told him is yeeted out of the window and it’s not a fun ride.

In this issue, Roy and Kory find a Jason that doesn’t know who they are or who he, himself, is. This is because S’aru that little floaty little shit took his memories away after Jason asked him to do so, well Jason asked S’aru to erase every memory that darkness has touched (Joker) and he does that. But him doing that is apparently erasing everything which, holy shit, how messed up is that?

But let’s take a look at what Jason says before he gets his memories taken away: “Not only did the Joker almost take my face, but he tells me he might have manipulated my entire life from the beginning! Even the good is tainted by him now. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t have that kind of doubt. If you take it away, I can go on living. I can keep fighting”. So, yeah that was a pretty emo speech. But the thing here is that if Jason is asking this dude to erase every memory that has been tainted by the Joker and he erases all of them then we might be facing one of two situations, either Joker has been messing up with Jason’s life from the beginning or S’aru is just a little bitch.

We will later find out in #20 that S’aru and Ducra planned the whole thing, meaning that they took all of his memories for ulterior motives not because the Joker had actually tainted all of them.

For many issues Jason has no memories and now that I am revisiting these issues, I now remember the twisted and completely insane plot they came up with for the “League of Assassins” and Jason being the “Chosen One”, everything was happening in this run, my god, it's like they wanted Jason to be the center of every single trope in writing history.

It’s in issue #26 that Jason asks for his memories back but the Joker having tainted his memories or not isn’t important anymore to anyone, including the writer (because he is too focused on telling this messy story), Jason (because he has enough problems at the moment) and the reader (because this book makes zero sense and it changes the story and motivations every single issue).

But there is another truth to be revealed in the next issue.

Red Hood and the Outlaws (2011) #27

Jason has planned along Ducra and S’aru to give up all of his memories to be cleansed so he could defeat Ra’s Al Ghul. But (there is always a but) Ducra says this: “Your greatest enemy returned and nearly took your face away from you. And in the process, shook your sense of identity to the core” “The final battle here will take place in the Well of Sins, and with all the doubt and fear clouding your mind, it would eat you whole”.

So yeah, now we have confirmation from Ducra that Jason had indeed let what the Joker told him cloud his sense of self and made him doubt who he was and if he really was in control.

All that back and forth for these many issues just to say, yes, Jason let Joker’s words affect him.

So here it is, let Joker get in Jason’s head to build the plot of a story, fantastic, the story was a mess because it had so much information, the mischaracterizations of Roy and Kory were at their maximum potential, and in this particular story arc not only are the events of Red Hood: The Lost Days officially erased from Jason’s canon but something quite out there is added to Jason’s canon from before he was even Robin (that’s a whole different story that I won’t be talking about here).

What an insane ride this arc was. Definitely not the kind of story I enjoy in a Red Hood book but that’s just my preference.

*This whole arc was written by James Tynion IV.

Red Hood/Arsenal #11

Joker is dead during the events of this run but the person who has something to say to Jason about how the Joker made the person that he is now is Duela Dent (“Joker’s daughter”, she isn’t his daughter she just found Joker’s face somewhere and she puts it on and “becomes” crazy, she is an incredibly weird character).

She says this, “You’re a lot like dad in that way” to which Jason says “He is not my father. He’s not even your father” but Duela continues by saying. “You’re kidding yourself if you genuinely believe that. Yeah, he took your life but look what you got in its place, you ingrate. You got your freedom. You were reborn.” 

Jason doesn’t fall for it or anything of the sort but once again writers are bringing up the Joker as the maker of the Red Hood and “suggesting” that what Jason has been doing and who he has become is all thanks to Joker. The idea of Jason having no free will is still present in this narrative, even when Jason doesn’t believe it.

Red Hood/Arsenal #12

I talked too soon because in this issue Jason is having some weird thoughts.

“Funny, isn’t it, so easy to call Duela “crazy” because she wears a dead man’s face. Because isn’t that what I’m doing? Before he was the Joker, he was the Red Hood. So maybe the line between men and the Joker’s daughter is a lot thinner than I’d like to admit.”

Here he is comparing himself to Duela and to the Joker to an extent, writers often bring up the fact that Jason uses the code name that his killer once had and they have people or Jason himself questioning why he uses that name.

Personally, I don’t think there is much to build from it (at least not from the perspective of Lost Days and UtRH), it was just a joke, a morbid one if you will. He wears the mantle of the person that destroys Gotham and fills its people with fear while he is trying to control the city’s drug trade and trying to keep the people safe in his own way. And the way he wanted to do it is almost the complete opposite of the way that Batman does things.

I just think that he is being ironic and acidic about the whole thing. He has obviously moved on from the fact that Joker killed him but he has issues with the fact that Batman has yet another child working with him while the Joker is still alive. And Jason really wanted to make Bruce suffer, so him taking the name and a similar appearance to how the joker used to look is also done to get a reaction from Bruce.

I really don’t think there is any sort of connection to make between Jason and Joker beyond that, much like there is no connection between the name Nightwing and the Court of Owls. Even though Lincoln March tried to convince Dick Grayson that he chose the name Nightwing because Owls fly at night and that meant that he was supposed to become a Talon and all that Dick still didn’t believe it because he knew why he chose that name and no one can twist his reason.

Red Hood and the Outlaws (2016) #10

Finally, I can stop re-reading New 52 books, I don’t enjoy it but I have to do it if I want to talk/complain about stuff.

This one is a little different because while Jason does talk with the Joker, the Joker isn’t really there he is just part of Jason’s imagination just like the Robin Jason that he is also seeing.

In this story, Jason is helping Artemis discover who she is but he gets captured in Qurac, yup that place, and worst of all from where he is being held, he can see the place where he died. All of that is helping Jason have some very vivid memories/illusions. He does actively hold a conversation with the imaginary Joker and Robin Jason though, and he is also having a lot of thoughts that let us know how the Joker affects Jason.

“This is why it was stupid of me to come back to Qurac. Even to help Artemis, even if I thought I could handle it. Physically, I am alone, but in my head? I’m drowning in memories of the worst day of what was my very short life. The day I was murdered.”

That’s what Jason is thinking but what I write next is what Jason’s saying as he talks to the imaginary Joker.

“Not interested in replaying this over again, like I have every night of my life since it happened Joker”

So, we are told that Jason thinks about that day very often, the Joker might not be involved much in Jason’s books but he definitely has a bigger role inside of Jason’s head. They chat for a bit up until Jason decides to ���kill” the Joker, he knows, of course, that it is not real but it does give him satisfaction. (If only they would have let Jason actually kill the clown for real, or at the very least chase him just to show the reader that Jason does actually want to finish the job since the Bat won’t do it himself).

Having said all that, Joker’s imaginary death doesn’t last long because Jason is trapped in his mind and the Joker is basically functioning on a loop inside of it.

That is where the problem lies in this issue because Jason is letting us know that he is still heavily influenced by what happened that day and that he hasn’t been able to walk away from it. But once more that’s not the worst thing, because all of these thoughts have led Jason to think that he (in the present and as a fifteen-year-old) is the one to blame for having ended up dead. Yeah, it is messed up.

This is what Jason says to imaginary Robin Jason, “He is never going to die, Jason. Not here. Not in my mind, not if at some point I don’t stand up and walk away from my memories. From you.”

This is a major downgrade, from the Jason that we had in UtRH because that Jason had moved on from the fact that he had been killed what he was looking for was for Batman to avenge his death. He had other things in mind as well, like I said before in this post Jason had a lot of things going on, killing Joker wasn’t his only plan.

And this situation (written by Lobdell) is also very different from what was going on in New 52 where Jason being influenced by the Joker was used to build a plot. This is just a writer letting us know that this “new version” of Jason hasn’t worked out his problems when it comes to his death and his killer. That means that we are going backward.

After he realizes that he was unconscious all that time and that he was being tortured he does get his shit together in order to get out of captivity and go help Artemis.

The Joker and that whole thing that happened in his mind aren’t mentioned again, it was just for the reader to know that Rebirth Jason has unsolved issues with his death.

Batman: Three Jokers #1

Oh yes, here we are, we have arrived to that dreaded book, awful writing gorgeous art. In this book, the “Joker made Jason as he is now” trope is at its full potential; Johns drives this hellish truck of a book at full speed into our homes and then ends it by giving us one of the worst takes on Jason Todd’s characterization ever.

But first, let’s talk about the Joker and Jason interaction in the first issue. As Jason and Barbara are left alone with the Joker that they came across moments ago the Joker begins talking because that’s what he does.

He says this, “I’m the loop-de-loop, the hamster-wheel-of-doom. The cycle of pain each one of you is trapped in. Take “Red Hood” here, for example. Have you ever wondered why he uses my former moniker? Who in their right mind would take on the identity of their killer? Am I right?”

He is obviously being a little shit on purpose and is waiting to see if somebody will take the bait. Jason is the first to talk and he says this: “I took it because I’m owning what you did to me. You made me into this. I will be your destruction”.

Congratulations Jason, you took the bait, and now Barbara will fight with you over it.

Jason raises his gun to “break the cycle” and Barbara is like “please don’t do it” and boy is Joker having the time of his life! Both of these idiots are playing his game, Johns really did both Jason and Barbara dirty with this.

Here is where THE problem with letting the Joker talk is. This Joker got under Jason’s skin in seconds and Barbara did nothing while it happened.

This is what the Joker had to say. “Let’s look at the facts here bat-people. I bashed this boy’s skull in. I killed this Robin” to which Jason says “You didn’t kill me, you only made me stronger” which is weird because the Joker did kill him so I don’t know what kinda comeback that was supposed to be but Joker wasn’t done because he continues by saying “Yes, you crawled from the shallow grave I left you in. You lived on to fight another day. Hurrah! You survived because of your tenacity! Or maybe… maybe I beat you to a bloody mess… I took you right to the edge… because I wanted to leave you alive.”

Great that’s where the clown is going, just fantastic, more of the “I made you” but that’s not all because the Joker tells Jason that him having hurt Jason wasn’t because he didn’t like Jason, it was all about Batman, Jason doesn’t matter.

But that’s not the worse thing that was written in this awful book, Geoff Johns seems to have felt that the trauma that Jason went through in the original “Death in the Family” story wasn’t enough because he decided to add something new.

That’s why the Joker says this next, “Do you recall what you said to me while I was breaking your head in with that crowbar? As your blood streamed into your eyes and your skull cracked? Because I cherish those words. I’ll always cherish them. ‘Please stop! Please! If you let me live, I’ll do anything you say. I’ll be your Robin’” “And look at you now my little “Red Hood” shooting up people and making Batman’s life miserable! You are my Robin!”

What a nightmare Johns decided to put Jason and Jason Nation through huh? I hate this, this is the worst thing that has ever been written in a Jason Todd story (although I can say that about many things that were written in this three-issue book).

Jason kills the Joker after he says all that, Barbara does (for some reason) try to stop him from doing it but luckily, she can’t stop Jason.

But here is the thing, Jason killing the Joker doesn’t make me feel as satisfied as I would have liked, and it doesn’t feel that way because Jason let Joker talk for far too long and what Joker said ended up getting in Jason’s head and messing with him.

Batman: Three Jokers #2

Yeah, there is no rest for us, Jason Nation, in this issue Jason goes looking for another Joker to kill and he finds one but he gets captured. Johns really had to get Jason naked for Joker to torture him mentally and physically? Johns is, himself, a major red flag but that’s not what I am here to talk about.

In this issue the Joker that captures Jason has the same things to say as the other one, DC writers really have no imagination when it comes to building conflict between Joker and Jason, huh?

Anyway, Joker says this, “tell me something. Why would you put on that helmet and call yourself Red Hood after what we did?” Jason of course replies “Come on, is every one of you copycats gonna ask me the same thing? It’s a joke” the answer isn’t enough for Joker (the two of them that are here with Jason) so he continues talking. “A joke? We left you with brain damage and permanent nerve pain. Physical and emotional trauma so severe that the only relief you ever find is when you inflict pain on others. You and me, boy, we’re more alike than you’d care to admit. But you know that already. You nearly died and you blame the Batman. You hate him for it. Me too. You hate him most of all don’t you?”

Now, here is the thing, that whole thing is bullshit, none of it makes sense. From Jason having permanent nerve pain to Jason hating Batman the most, everything is a lie. And my confusion here is that I don’t know if I have to feel like Joker is doing it on purpose to be a little bitch or if Geoff Johns was on crack when he wrote this and he had actually never heard of Jason Todd in his life before.

The whole thing is a mess, it feels like he is writing Jason from an origin and story that we never read. I don’t know how to explain it, but the whole thing feels cheap, it’s a cheap trope and it’s a cheap take on who Jason Todd is, was, and will be.

The nightmare doesn’t end Jason Nation because these two Jokers have something else in mind, you see, if they said that they made the Red Hood when they killed Jason the first time, maybe if they kill him this time then he could possibly come back as the Joker. Yeah, this book did nothing for Jason.

Let’s make something clear, Jason does NOT hate Batman/Bruce for not being able to save him, he hates the fact that Batman/Bruce didn’t kill the Joker to avenge him. That simple thing doesn’t exist in Three Jokers and that’s why things like the ones that happen next are allowed to happen in this story.

Bruce and Barbara find Jason and when Bruce asks if he is okay Jason just goes berserk, he says: “Am I all right? What do you think Bruce?! You did this to me. You put me on this path. And I do hate you for it. For leaving me in the dirt. Replacing me one Robin after another without a thought.”

This, everybody is what you get when you mix bad writing with Jason being mentally manipulated by the Joker.

It's a shame that Jason is being treated this way at this point in time, in a book that came out in 2020 when Jason was able to shut the clown up with a knife and a couple of words back in 2005. What a downgrade.

At the end of this issue, Jason is safe and recovering but he still is in the same mindset, he says, “What the Joker said about how I’ve been on the path to being like them for years… they are not wrong. I don’t want to be like them though. I really don’t.”

It’s like a never-ending wheel of pain with this book. Jason is talking to Barbara when he says that and he is trying to look for comfort in her. And here is where the Jason/Barbara subplot begins and I only bring this up because something that happens in the next issue is based on the kiss that Barbara gave Jason but then was like “that doesn’t mean anything, I was just trying to comfort you”. Johns shouldn’t be allowed to write Barbara and Jason ever again.

Batman: Three Jokers #3

It’s in this issue that we find out the big subplot that Johns has prepared for Jason, are you ready for it? Yup, Jason should stop being the Red Hood because if he keeps it up, he will eventually become the Joker.

I know, I know! Jason would never stop being Red Hood, he is not on a path to become the Joker, that’s crazy! Jason’s Red Hood is a character on its own and he is amazing and just because he has different morals from Batman doesn’t mean that he is a bad guy! Right?...

“I’ll give up being Red Hood for us. I can be something else. Or I can be just Jason.”

To this day I cannot believe that those words supposedly were written by Jason Todd to Barbara Gordon after Barbara rejected him three times. The level of “what the fuck is this” is incredibly high with this one…

This whole book was a mess and I am so glad that it didn’t last longer.

Anyway, that’s it. In conclusion, Jason didn’t let the Joker get under his skin the first time they interacted after he came back from the dead but later when DC decided that UtRH was just too good of a book they came up with stories where Joker does get under Jason’s skin and Jason becomes convinced that he has no free will (or at the very least he doubts his free will) when it comes to him becoming his own man.

As I have said before, that for Jason Todd is a major downgrade. And it's one of the many things that hurts Jason’s characterization in current comics.

[amaryllisblackthorn]

a lot of people have this idea that Annabeth's been like, a Luke apologist and in denial since the very beginning but it's not really true?. Annabeth was angry at Luke for his betrayal in the end of Lightning Thief and during Sea of Monsters. It's only until the end of The Titan's Curse that she starts the 'Luke really isn't that bad' kind of thing.

the end of Lightning Thief:

"I can't believe that Luke..." Annabeth's voice faltered. Her expression turned  angry and sad. "Yes. Yes, I can believe it. May the gods curse him...He was never the same after his quest."

"When I get back next summer," she said, "we'll hunt down Luke. We'll ask for a quest, but if we don't get approval, we'll sneak off and do it anyway. Agreed?"

 She was really angry at him during Sea of Monsters. Her vision from the Sirens does indicate that deep down she may believe she's able to save him, or at least wants to, but it doesn't diminish the hurt and anger she does feel.

"How could you?" Annabeth sounded so angry I thought she'd explode. "Thalia saved your life! Our lives! How could you dishonor her--"

"Liar!"

"I understand you want to destroy the camp!" she yelled. "You're a monster!"

"Because you have none of your own [intelligence]!"

"That's disgusting!" Annabeth said.

"You're insane," Annabeth said.

"Go to Tartarus," she said.

All those above are on the Princess Andromeda with Luke. Then later, to Percy:

She shook her head. "We made a dozen safe houses like this. I doubt Luke even remembers where they are. Or cares."

Even in the beginning-ish of Titan's Curse, she doesn't trust him. When he's struggling under the sky and asking for her help, she's hesitant. It's only when the sky begins to fall  that she goes to help hold it.

Annabeth had tears in her eyes. She reached down like she wanted to touch Luke's face, but at the last second she hesitated. "What happened?" she asked.

"Why should I trust you?" Annabeth asked. Her voice was filled with hurt.

Then the darkness above Luke began to crumble, like a cavern roof in an earthquake. Huge chunks of black rock began falling. Annabeth rushed in just as a crack appeared, and the whole ceiling dropped. She held it somehow--tons of rock. She kept it from collapsing on her and Luke with her own strength.

However!! There's a shift in her feelings by the time Percy and Thalia rescue her and I personally think it's because she's aware that Luke 'saved' her life for the time being after Atlas ordered him to kill her after Artemis took the sky -- even though he was super complicit in her being in that situation in the first place. Compare:

Luke hesitated. "She--she may yet be useful, sir. Further bait."

and

"We'll bring Luke back," Annabeth pleaded. "To Olympus. He...he'll be useful."

I don't think it's a conscious parallel on Annabeth's part per se, but Rick Riordan using the parallel to indicate the connection. I think that's when Annabeth discovers that Luke does still care deep down, and that deep down the person that she knows is there. which is fair, because before this point he hadn’t given her any indication seeing as he literally directed  Oreius to eat her. that’s a whole ‘nother write-up, though, i think. i digress.

Once she knows this, she starts to view him as someone being manipulated and taken advantage of by Kronos, someone who was able to manipulate Ares, a god, in the first book, -- she's not wrong! He is being manipulated. That doesn't absolve him from his horrible behavior especially towards her, but she understands that Luke is a troubled, traumatized young man being taken advantage of by the evil King Titan, and she's also aware that literally no one else cares enough to try to save him.

like, the language Annabeth uses to describe Luke in the end of Titan’s Curse is the same that Percy uses to describe the demigods on the  Titans’ side in Last Olympian. 

"You don't believe me about Luke," Annabeth said, "but we'll see him again. He's in trouble, Percy. He's under Kronos's spell."

vs

I tried to wound his men, not kill. That slowed me down, but these weren’t monsters. They were demigods who’d fallen under Kronos’s spell. I couldn’t see faces under their battle helmets, but some of them had probably been my friends.

there’s another callback with the language Percy uses to describe the opposing demigods in Last Olympian. this time, to what Percy says to Luke at the end of Lightning Thief.

“He’s brainwashing you, Luke.”

“You’re being used, Luke. You and Ares both. Don’t listen to Kronos.”

vs

This kid was getting brainwashed—trained to hate the gods and lash out because he’d been born half Olympian. Kronos was using him, and yet the kid thought I was his enemy.

Poseidon put his hand on my shoulder. “Percy, there were only a few demigod warriors aboard that ship, and they all chose to battle for Kronos. Perhaps some heeded your warning and escaped. If they did not . . . they chose their path.”

“They were brainwashed!” I said. “Now they’re dead and Kronos is still alive. That’s supposed to make me feel better?

Percy has sympathy for the demigods manipulated by Kronos to be on the Titan’s sides; he sees them as victims. the reason he doesn’t for Luke, I feel, is because Luke’s betrayal made it personal. I think this is where Percy’s fatal flaw comes into play, honestly, with the personal loyalty. both in regards to the personal betrayal to Percy, as well as Percy’s loyalty to Annabeth (and thus Luke’s betrayal of Annabeth, too). and i feel this also applies, to a lesser extent, to Ethan. but that’s a whole ‘nother write-up, too (one day!)

there is, admittedly, the factor of Luke’s age in comparison to Percy, Annabeth, and most of the other campers. there’s definitely a power imbalance -- especially with Annabeth, which isn’t okay, obviously.  so even though he’s a victim and young himself, that power imbalance in regards to his actions, manipulations, etc is messed up and not okay. 

even so, Luke is still pretty young himself -- not as young as the others, but still young. like, i got into this series when i was younger than Percy and Annabeth were, so Luke, like most early 20 year olds, seemed very old to me in that regard; it’s only as i got older and closer to his are that i started to really realize that heck he was really young. so while Luke is definitely an adult in regards to the relationship he has with Percy, Annabeth, and other younger demigods -- which he should have been mindful of and makes his manipulation etc very messed up and not okay -- he’s also young himself which is something to keep in mind. like, Luke is only around 19-22? in the series. That puts him at a power imbalance in regards to Annabeth and Percy, in which he's very much an adult in the relationship, but outside of that he's still pretty young! he’s a college kid, which when you’re younger seems pretty old but then you are one and realize differently -- his brain hasn't even fully developed yet. but i’m like, seriously digressing. 

my intended point was that i disagree with the interpretation that Annabeth was blinded by emotions and a toxic relationship which led her to make excuses for Luke and unable to see him for what he really was etc,--  because Annabeth was angry at him after his betrayal and had even thought he was different, that he didn’t care anymore. The ‘Luke apologist’ behavior only starts at the end of Titan’s Curse, the third book in the five book series. I just feel like her ... feelings? perspective? position? idk the right word.... is often misrepresented? 

she becomes very defensive over Luke’s ‘inner goodness’ and stuff because she’s literally the only one who wants to save him and knows it. she knows what he’s done isn’t okay, but she keeps driving it home that he’s being manipulated because he is! it doesn’t excuse his actions but it doesn’t have to. by the end of titan’s curse, annabeth sees luke as someone terribly lost and no one trying, willing, or caring enough to save him. and like, she’s right when she sees luke as someone who isn’t beyond saving, who’s extremely lost and being manipulated through his trauma and anger -- it doesn’t excuse what he’s doing but that doesn’t make him someone not worthy of saving. despite what he’s done, luke is still her family and she will fight for him. she sees luke the same way percy sees the other opposing demigods in the last olympian and she’s right. she’s not making excuses for him, she doesn’t think he’s done nothing wrong, she’s just not willing to give up on him and she was right. as the child in the relationship/dynamic, it wasn’t her responsibility to be the one to save him and shouldn’t have been, but she wasn’t wrong in how she saw Luke.

 like, their was definitely a power imbalance in their relationship and it’s definitely important to acknowledge that, but i feel like people tend to like, erase annabeth’s agency, for lack of a better word, and attribute her desire to save Luke as being tragically misplaced? like, Luke has totally wronged Annabeth and mistreated her terribly, but like...I find her not giving up on him mostly admirable and not pitiable, though like I said as the child in their dynamic it wasn’t her responsibility.  i’m rambling though.

mostly this post was made to remind people that Annabeth was angry towards Luke, and rightfully so, until near the end of Titan’s Curse, which is where her defending Luke and insisting he could be saved really started, likely with Luke indicating he actually still cared deep down for the first time being the catalyst.  especially since it seems a lot of people give like the impression they think she’s done it from the very beginning? idk ive definitely rambled a lot and lost my main point sometime ago or something. enjoy this anyway.

[nevertheless-moving]

Suicidal Misunderstanding Part VI - Star Wars Time Travel AU

Part I - - - - -  Part II - - - - - Part III - - - - - Part IV - - - - - Part V 

Anakin watched Obi-Wan through the stalks for several minutes. He could see him kneeling at the base of the waterfall, occasionally glancing around, as if searching for someone. Just when he was about to break and interrupt him, Obi-Wan stood and walked over. They sat together on the low bench, surrounded by the carefully cultivated colored fungi. 

“Obi-Wan...maybe we should talk about what’s going on with you. Whatever it is, I’m here for you.” Anakin offered hesitantly.

Obi-Wan tensed, hands clenching in his lap. 

“No.” 

“Master Windu and Bant both seemed to think this isn’t a drug thing. Please, let-”

“That wasn’t what I was saying no to.” 

Obi-Wan stood and began threading a path through the mushrooms, careful not to step on any of the smaller ones. Anakin was forced to follow directly in his footsteps, not wanting to risk damaging something Obi-Wan clearly seemed to care about, but wishing he could look at his Master’s face.

“Did I ever tell you about Bruck Chun?” Obi-Wan asked.

“No. Who’s Bruck?” Anakin responded with deliberate patience.

“He was an old crechemate of mine, quite gifted, though he had a temper. There have been times you remind me of him. We were rivals.” They were approaching the end of the alcove, a large stone overhang throwing them in to shadow.

“Were?”

“He died. When we were twelve.”

When they reached the rock face, Obi-Wan started climbing straight up. Anakin followed. Several clicks above the floor, Obi-Wan squeezed his way into a narrow crack, invisible from the floor below. Anakin followed. They awkwardly shuffled along the passage until Obi-Wan suddenly dropped out of sight. Anakin followed.

They landed in a hidden alcove. It was half lit by sunlight filtering in from cracks above, and half lit by the glow of mushrooms and crystals tenaciously embedded in the rock face around.

“Oh.” Anakin said softly. “Is this where you go when you visit the fountains to meditate?”

“No, I hadn’t been here in years.” Obi-Wan answered wistfully. “I started getting too big, didn’t want to damage the passageway too much. I figured some other younglings would stumble upon it someday like I did. I’m sorry. I avoided this room for the first year or two of your padawanship. By the time I even thought to share it, you had already grown so big...”

He sat down, legs stretched out in front. Anakin sat next to him, mirroring his position.

“I’m glad you’re sharing it with me now.” Anakin smiled reassuringly, but Obi-Wan was staring ahead blankly.  

The young knight swallowed nervously. “Did you...come here with Bruck?”

Obi-Wan let out a snort. “Gods, no! I hid here from him. Before we were rivals, he bullied me relentlessly.”

“And...this is the guy you said I remind you of?” Was he being insulted?

“At times. Math lessons, saber practice, none of that ever came easy to me. But you and him...you never even needed to study. And you do have a vicious streak, Anakin.”

Rather than try to argue in vain against the slight hurt, Anakin just asked, “How did he die?”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes. “He fell.” 

Anakin jerked in surprise, “Wait, you mean-”

“We were fighting at the top of the waterfall- it- he had nearly killed Bant. He was angry that we both had been chosen by Masters, and Xanatos used that to manipulate him into helping with an attack on the temple. Bruck was lashing out. He was a better swordsmen, but his anger made him unbalanced. I knocked him back. And he fell. I’ve forgotten a lot of details about him as a person, but I still remember his body at the bottom of the falls.”

"That’s...awful. I’m sorry.” Anakin said helplessly. He had known the bare basics of Xanatos’s fall, but clearly not the full story.

Obi-Wan sighed, leaning slightly to press their shoulders together. Anakin scootched over to try and provide a little extra silent comfort.

“I thought I had learned to live with my guilt over my part in what happened to him, but I suppose recent events have torn open old scars, so to speak.”

Anakin held his breath, Obi-Wan didn’t add anything else. 

“Obi-Wan” he tried to nudge gently. 

“Hmm?”

Anakin lost his patience, jumping up. “Master, please!” He half yelled, looming over his Master. A flash of fear crossed Obi-Wan’s expression as he looked up, which immediately halted the fit of rage. 

He knelt down penitently, “I’m sorry, Obi-Wan, I shouldn’t have yelled, but please, let me help. I won’t get mad like that again, I swear. Whatever you need, I’m here for you.”

“You’re not.” Obi-Wan whispered, expression blank. He shuddered all over, fists clenching tightly.

“You’re NOT here for me!” Obi-Wan shouted, suddenly offended. “How can you POSSIBLY claim to be there for anyone after what you-” Obi-Wan seemed to choke on the words. He let out a strangled cry and pulled his knees up to his chest. Tears welled, but he didn’t seem to notice.

Anakin stared wide-eyed, cold all over. “This...this is about something I did. I don’t understand. You... told me a few hours that I’m dear to you, what...what could I have done since then to make you...I don’t understand.”

“You know what you did.” Obi-Wan let out. “And the fact that learning about it didn’t stop me from caring about you doesn’t help, it just makes the heartbreak a thousand times more painful.”

Anakin racked his brain wildly. This couldn’t be about his marriage with Padme, right? He told him this morning that he didn’t mind the sneaking off. There was only one screw-up big enough that could possibly warrant this severe a reaction, and only two people alive knew about that, both sworn to secrecy.

“The younglings,” Obi-Wan whispered. “You - you didn’t even spare the younglings.” Obi-wan looked gutted, terrified. 

Anakin felt like he had been dropped in ice water. This was- this was his worst fear- that Obi-Wan would learn about his darkest failing as a Jedi and be ashamed of him, angry at him, would abandon him. He had already made his judgement. How could he have even learned about about the Tuskens?

“Padme-” he breathed out. “Padme told-”

“No!” Obi-Wan denied desperately, lurching forward. “Padme would never betray you! I would never betray you! We both love you, Anakin. Please, some part of you must know that! You must!”

His master seemed frantic, fingernails digging painfully into Anakin’s arm.

“You love me?” Anakin asked brokenly, heart cracked open.

Obi-Wan let go of Anakin to curl in on himself again. He seemed very small. It hurt to look at.

“I think its safe to say at this point that there’s nothing you could, no betrayal or atrocity you could commit that would make me stop loving you. Despite what you’ve done, you’re my brother, my son- of course I love you. The fact that I led you to doubt my love for you might be my greatest failing, though there are so many its hard to really say.” Obi-Wan sounded utterly defeated.

Anakin’s heart was pounding. This was a nightmare and a childhood dream. Obi-Wan loved him unconditionally, but he knew about his slaughter of the Tusken's and was ashamed. This couldn’t be real. He can’t know.

“Palpatine-” Anakin tried to ask.

Obi-Wan growled. “I do not need to talk about how that power-hungry liar systematically worked to tear us apart. I want to know why you would-” he cut himself off again.

Palpatine told Obi-Wan- that was more than he could even begin to process.

"I’m sorry, Master. I’m so sorry for failing you.” The words came desperately tumbling out, “I was just- I was so angry about my mom’s death and-”

“Your mother’s death? You killed innocent children for the sake of your Mother?! I don’t- how could anyone possibly rationalize-” Obi-Wan hissed out, truly angry for the first time that day. He took a deep breath and pulled himself upright.

“Your mother’s death was a terrible tragedy and I will forever regret my role in it. I should have tried harder to free her, for her own sake. I was so afraid that if I pushed for permission with the council they would think I was failing you, and they would take you from me. I made- so many decisions out of attachment, out of fear of losing you, and in the end I hurt you so badly you couldn’t trust me. You didn’t trust me with the truth of your visions, so I gave you bad advice born of misunderstanding, and your mother died horribly. I- I can see how you would blame the Jedi for that, even if its not rational. I certainly understand why you would blame me for that, why you would hate me because of her death.”

Obi-Wan scrubbed at his face mercilessly, practically tearing skin in his haste to wipe away snot and tears.

“But why, if you were getting revenge, would you kill the children and not me?” “Why couldn’t you just kill me and be satisfied?” He finally looked straight at Anakin, asking like it was a real question.

Anakin was horrified. After a few false starts he finally choked out, “Master, I love you. I told you, you’re the closest thing I have to a father. You’re the last person I could ever kill.”

“The last person you could ever kill,” Obi-Wan echoed back, looking pained.

“Please, Master, tell me how to fix this. I want to make things right. How can I fix things?” Anakin begged.

“That’s not a fair question. You can’t unmurder people. You can’t put them back together like a- an engine or a droid- ”

“There has to be something I can do to make you forgive me!” Anakin said desperately. “You can’t just tell me you love me and then say I’m an irredeemable monster!”

“Well that’s an entirely different matter, though no less cruel to think about.”

He leaned into Anakin’s side once more, the press providing a hint of warmth even in the unshakable cold. “Anakin, it isn’t very rational or fair of me, but it wouldn’t really take that much to get me to forgive you. Kriff, if you just acted sorry for what you had done.” Obi-Wan sighed.

“If you told me that you regretted the lives you took and swore you were going to stop murdering, force help me, I’d probably take you back in an instant. All I ever wanted was to help you be the best version of yourself.”

“I’m sorry.” Anakin said immediately. “I’m so, so sorry for what I did. I lost control of myself because I was scared, and angry, and suffering and, and then I was so scared that you would hate me that I pretended it was ok, and I told myself that they deserved to die, but how could children ever deserve to die and please Master I’ll throw away my lightsaber just please, please don’t leave me, I need you, please-” and the rest of the words dissolved into large, ugly sobs.

Obi-Wan keened and pulled Anakin into his lap like he was a child again. Anakin scrabbled at his cloak, desperately trying to hold on. The terrible chill that had been haunting him slowly started to fade away as he was rocked back and forth. 

After a minute, Anakin got enough of a hold on himself to consider trying to stop blubbering like a crecheling on his Master’s robes. But he quickly realized that Obi-Wan was also crying, so instead threw his arms around the older man and let himself go.

An uncertain amount of time passed before they both slowed from heaving sobs, to dry hiccups, to quiet whimpers. Eventually they ended up laying in a heap, boneless but for their hold on each other. And finally, the cavern was more or less silent.

Anakin felt physically lighter, mind clear like he had just completed an extremely successful meditation session.

Without a word, they slowly shifted so they were leaning on the wall instead of sprawled on the ground. Obi-Wan pulled his robe off, first using it to wipe his face, then tenderly cleaning his Padwan’s. 

Anakin just chuckled. 

Obi-Wan threw the robe so it covered the two of them, which was a little gross, but that only made Anakin snort giddily. 

They sat there peacefully for sometime. The shadows from above started shifting, and Obi-Wan sighed, “I really should go eat something.”

Anakin sighed back at him in agreement. They both stretched in the small space, joints popping.

“Do you need to walk through the rest of the gardens first?” Anakin asked.

“No,” Obi-Wan replied, tenderly fussing with his kid’s hair and robes so they looked presentable. “This was...more than I could have hoped for.”

Anakin beamed, giving Obi-Wan one last quick hug before gesturing upwards. “Time to get back to the real world?” he joked with a hint of regret.

“Time to get back to the real world.” Obi-Wan repeated heavily.

Part VII

[sinnabee]

why do anons sometimes only send on something if they have negative things to say? ><

😔 i gotta assume it's people who go on anon specifically because they feel they can then say whatever mean shit they want without having to deal with the repercussions, fam. it sucks! some people just enjoy being negative i guess? it could be that it makes them feel more in control, or gives them a sense of superiority, or they could be misguidedly lashing out at someone.

gonna slap a readmore here for the rest so that y'all aren't forced to look at a wall of text, because apparently i have a lot of thoughts about this lol

i know that the way the internet is today makes it a lot harder to see people online as "people" at times, there's less community and more just scrolling through content and consuming it as fast as possible. can't really know why mean/rude/negative anons do what they do, i guess? and tbh - i don't think i care to know.

again, oldest rule of the internet still holds true: don't feed the trolls.

i personally have been SUPER lucky and have WONDERFUL followers and anons and haven't received any really mean or negative asks. but i think thats more because ive only recently even become super active, on here. i HAVE received anons that have made me uncomfortable, though. the best thing to do with that kind of stuff goes back to don't feed the trolls - don't answer the ask, just delete it and move on. there's that whole saying about "if you don't have anything nice to say, then don't say anything at all," and when it comes to people sending in asks - well bud, you've just lost your privileges! all i have to do is not answer it and nobody else sees their mean words. easy peasy.

i also think deleting anons that make you uncomfortable or that are negative helps in other ways, because that "forgetting people are people" thing can go both ways. if someone sent me some awful shit, and i answered it, and later they came off anon or somebody found out what their blog was, it could easily stir up a SHITSTORM of drama. and like - yeah, they were mean to me. i don't care to harass them back. you know? even if it feels like you're serving someone their "just desserts" or whatever, i'd really rather not devote so much of my time and energy to being mad at someone else, or trying to hurt them back because they hurt me.

this is how i personally handle this stuff, though. i have a lot of privilege and there are things that people might send in anons that are a lot more serious, and wouldn't be appropriately handled using this "delete them and move on:" thing. and these are mostly my thoughts and how i handle things. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

i think thats the end of my rant? i'll step off my soapbox lol. either way, in the end i don't really know why they do that anon!!! im just glad ive been so lucky to have y'all sweethearts in my inbox <3

[dreamcatcheroflight]

Do you want to know why people struggling with mental illness dont reach out?

Because we HURT people. Not on purpose, obviously, we really dont mean to hurt anyone. It just sadly comes with the illness.

Let me explain to the bes of my ability.

For starters, we (those who suffer with it) constantly think we bring the mood down when we open up about anything thats bothering us. And you cant just be "cheered up" thats not how that shit works, especially during an episode. I'll give an example. So a few months ago i went and hung out with a couple friends. I dont remember what happened but one joke about hating myself turned into a whole ass "i fucking hate my life i wish i was dead i always do this shit god im such a failure etc etc etc". And obviously they tried helping, saying things like "youre not bringing the mood down we're okay youre not making us sad of course we care about you etc etc etc.." But when you struggle with so much insecurity and mental illness its hard to believe them. Its hard to trust what theyre saying is actually true. So we keep to ourselves and pretend to be the happy perfect one because they dont deserve to be pulled into our downward spiral.

Next is the fact that we keep putting our loved ones through the same shit. Anxiety attack after anxiety attack, they have to be there to listen. They have to be there to help or else it can spiral out of control so fast. Those closest to you will always see the dark ugly side of mental illness. Self harm, suicidal thoughts, crying, hyperventilating, our manic sides, our really low sides. We even lash out because we just cant handle whats going on inside our minds. And after a while we start accidentally pushing people away. Because they get tired of worrying, of constantly having to deal with our shit. Let me give another example. Over the past almost year now, my mom has had to rush me to the ER not once, but 5 (i think, ive lost count) fucking times. 4 of which i was hospitalized. And that doesnt include all the times shes had to listen to me cry or deal with my depressed ass because i literally cannot get out of bed to help with the house. I try, okay? We all try.

Call it whatever you want, but to me it feels like shes getting closer and closer to just calling it quits and letting me deal with it on my own. And im TERRIFIED for when that happens because when it does, i will have no one. I refuse to put anyone through this. I refuse to push anyone else away because i cant handle my own shit.

Thats why we're so scared of opening up. Because we know that if we do, people fucking l e a v e. They leave. Because they cant fucking handle it, they dont understand. So we keep it inside. We keep to ourselves. We struggle alone because that keeps those we love with us. People want to help until they realize that mental illness is a lot more complicated than someone being sad and having a hard time. Its so much more, and when people see that, well, they leave.

They just...leave.

So id rather struggle alone and still have friends and family rather than open up and risk losing everyone because they get tired of my shit.

Opening up for us is so fucking scary. Because everyone always leaves.

[ediblechalk]

I feel so crazy, im so hopeless. Ill never have a love, im a burden on everyone because im limited to my mental health. One thing, one comment, one facial expression, one little edge of someones tone and im set off. Im either apologizing profusely, crying, or thinking i did something they didn't like, I'm always trying to smile, talk softly, look nice. Please don't hurt me please don't leave me im sorry im sorry im sorry ill do better.

Or im numb, blank. Completely lost in my head. So numb i cant hold my head up. I get so depressed my head literally feels heavy so i have to lay down but i dont cry. I cry when everything ive internalized overflows and i start lashing out, self destruct, shut down and shut out but it doesnt usually last too long.

I get so self destructive, angry, and hyper, ill ignore my medication, wont shower, wont water my plants, wont take care of myself. Ill ignore my needs if i feel like itll bother someone. Id rather sit and feel horrible because i deserve it. I think. It's so very difficult to tell someone everything because im convinced im crazy and i dont want people to be scared of me or i just straight up forget because its normal to me.

I dream of suicide and self harm every day but i have no intention of doing anything but that alone will get me sent away. But its so tempting i just want to physically feel how bad my emotions make me feel but i wont cut or take pills on an empty stomach anymore. Im 2 years clean of cutting. But not self harm. Ill drink too much, smoke too many cigarettes, smoke too much weed, stay up too late. Mostly.

I do want to take care of myself, i believe heavily in self care and used to balance it regularly with my self destruction because i still cared about my body but not my mind. I have zero self esteem but a lot of confidence. My whole life my teachers and family told me to believe in myself but i couldnt.

Im so hopeless.

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

im new to this thing so im humbly sorry if i miss out on a warning or do smth wrong

tw: family issues, anxiety, fear of failure, pessimism

so im a school student, and i have to appear for an entrance examination to enter a university; i aspire to be a med kid. and the uni is of my dreams, like i know i can do it, i just need to work hard and keep myself motivated.

so in the beginning of the session this yr which is my last school yr i felt really motivated and optimistic. that was also around the time i started following an american music artist.

im currently living with my parents and i usually dont hide stuff like this from them so it was natural that when i started following that artist they got to know about them to. and i felt really motivated by the artist's life story and they also truly made me very happy with all their interviews or live videos or anything. but like, my father, has always been very protective for me so after about a month of following that artist he lashed out on me and telling me stuff like im distracted now and i wont be able to make it. it hurt but at that time, we sorted it out the next day and it was in the past then.

but in the next few months it happened more times, he wouldnt exactly say the same things but he would just go off on why im following the said artist and make me feel worthless of my decisions.. he never likes to talk about my interests and it really hurts

and i tend to overpressurize myself bc i really really dont want the chance to be in my dream uni slip away and its just a life turning point for me, partly also because my parents have are the strict kinda ones so i really wanna break free from them and getting into this uni has been my dream since i was 6

but my optimism is gone and when i started following the artist i was scoring better than ever but now ive just lost all hope and idk how to get it back

i think im just looking for some hope and/or reassurance because its really hard for me to focus on anythning and i dont know how to get through all these months i have left and i still have to work hard and i really really want to but i dont know how to

and im not sure but according to some videos that i watched i think i have anxiety

also, in no way im trying to portray my dad as a bad parent/person but im just upset over our interaction regarding the topic

thank u so much for your time and assistance on this! <3

Hey anon,

I feel for you. Sometimes people who have good intentions and want what's best for you make it difficult for you to achieve things.

You have great aspirations and I know you can achieve them. I'm sorry that you're not getting support in the way that you need or that would be helpful to you.

It definitely hurts when the people we love, and especially our parents, don't want to talk about our interests. It makes us feel like they don't care about us and that our interests are not worth caring about. That hurts. It's not true, though. Your interests are worth caring about, and so are you.

It's possible that you're not getting the same boost of hope and optimism that you felt when you first started getting into this artist because someone you care about (your dad) is making you feel bad about liking the artist/talking about them/interacting with their content. When people shame us or aren't supportive of our interests, we don't tend to get as excited about them as we did before we were rebuffed. Try to remember that you're okay to like this artist and you're not lacking motivation because you're into them, or any other media.

Sometimes our parents can get worried that we're struggling, and instead of talking to us with care and curiosity, they react through their fear. That is not a reflection of you.

It's okay that you're struggling. You have a lot of pressure on you. It would be easier to succeed without this pressure, so try to balance it out. Give yourself extra love and care! You're doing something difficult and admirable, go easy on yourself. Do what you can and congratulate yourself for what you've accomplished.

Take care!

- Mod Misa

[mariisauruslove]

Dear Ahmad,

Its taken me a long time to decide whether I should respond to anything you’ve said. In truth, i know my silence was louder and that’s why I didnt say anything. At first, however, i thought that night that i should just give it time. Then literally the next morning, less than 12 hrs from when it happened, you decide to cut me off? Because what? You’re overstimulated? You’re stressed? I didn’t even get enough time to process what happened. You cant force anyone to work on your schedule. Then you message again asking if we’re ever going to talk about it like you didnt just end the friendship? Like i was nothing? Just completely hurt me again and again. And you’re right, there is some responsibility of my own to that, and that is to stop letting you treat me this way. It’s not okay. You constantly treat me so ugly when ive done nothing but love you authentically and purely. I’m not your scapegoat. You dont just lash out on me to feel better. And instead of apologizing, change your behavior because it’s happened multiple times. Oh and my apologies that apparently mean less because i do it so often? It’s because you’re unpredictable and you lash out at me. The apologies happen because I’m trying to not step on your toes and upset you. And it only happens with you. Because I don’t feel safe with you. Its why i couldn’t climax with you. My body doesn’t feel safe. I loved you so fucking much for you to break me this way. I hope you hear the loudness of the void where my presence used to be. And i hope you consume yourself in it and reflect that you fucked up deeply because you lost the best damn thing that happened to you. A love that cuts deeper than a knife, it was too good to be true. I am disgusted that I let someone like you touch me this way. You’re narcissistic, manipulative and a liar. You said i wasnt in your cycle and its all bullshit, because i wasnt the only girl you reeled in, fucked and then tried to be friends with like nothing happened. You keep these women around for your convenience and congratulations, because it’s so fucking believable that you care. Looking at me, kissing me, touching me the way you did. I really believed you loved me in some way. But how fucking stupid do you think i am? You lost me. But its okay because you didnt truly care about me, you cared what I provided for you, which was a safe space for you. And you took advantage of that by thinking it was okay to lash out at me, even when it wasnt i who you were mad at. Oh and the fun part? When i actually had problems? Its was nice to hear you just throw it back in my face. I truly appreciate it. I knew you deeper than you knew yourself and i knew you were afraid of me because youve never experienced someone like me. Your eyes cant lie. I see through you. And that’s what scares you. You didn’t know the impact i was making on you until it was taken right under you. You took me for granted, thought I was going to be there for you at your beck and call. No, sir. I’m much more clever than that. And im worth so much more than that.You’ve taken enough of me. Youve hurt me enough and because of it all, you lost me. And i will be the one that got away. And youll try to get over me, ask yourself who tf I am. And that’s when youll realize I am the woman who loved you more than anyone else. It must be really embarrassing to be you right now. I can only imagine how stupid you feel. But that sounds like a YOU problem. I hope you heal from your bullshit and not rationalize your actions. Bon journée, mon chéri.

[livelivefastfree]

have you been working on any new fics?? (your stories are wonderful, ive drowned myself in polyburners thanks to you 😔 its a good place to be)

Not really anything new, although I’ve been picking away at some older ones that I never finished!  Namely the plot-heavy sequel to my telepathic soul-bond superhero AU, the intimidatingly complicated sequel to Save A Horse, Ride A Dragon, and my Burnerswap AU where the villains are all our new Burners and the Burners are villains.

Unfortunately since I’m a nurse work has been kind of stressful recently and also my brain only likes to focus on one thing at a time which is currently original novel things.  So process is pretty slow, haha.  But I’m glad I could bring more people into the polyburners fold!

I do feel bad that I haven’t had the energy to post much for a while; revamping my burnerswap doc is the most recent thing I’ve gotten work done on, so here’s a little bit of scene-setting!

Deluxe is a mass of spires and platforms, shimmering in the sunshine outside Red’s window.  Red stares up at the ceiling, at the pale golden glow of sunlight on the pale polymer.  He can hear the sound of someone loudly imitating an electric guitar, and faint thumps and thuds through the wall; Duke is taking his traditional lengthy shower and using up all their precious hot water.  From the smells drifting up from downstairs, Jacob is already up and in the kitchen experimenting.  Kaia is probably upstairs on the roof, tending to her plants, and Abraham had to go back down to the undercity last night.  His absence is a hole; no sound of him talking to Jacob in the kitchen, working out irritatingly on Red’s balcony, yelling at Duke for using up the water.  There’s always something slightly off, a little bit wrong, when part of their team is missing.

Red sits up, buckles his patch on over the remnant of his left eye, and pushes himself up out of bed to see what’s for breakfast.

Jacob is stirring something in a pan when he Red arrives.  There’s a heaping basket of miscellaneous vegetables on the counter next to him, so probably Red’s in for some kind of veggie abomination this morning—but it’s a veggie abomination Red doesn’t have to make and then burn, and he doesn’t really have a sense of taste anymore, anyway.  Red drops into a chair, and Jacob piles up a plate of fried vegetables and sets it wordlessly down in front of him.

It’s quiet for a while. Red eats as much as he can manage, and Jacob knows him well enough not to frown when Red has to push the plate away half-eaten.  

“Quiet night?” he says, eventually.

“All quiet in the pit,” Red says, and goes to the cooler to fish out a nutrient shake instead.  “No calls from Abraham.  No alerts, no bots, no Dragon.”

“Mm.”  Jacob shakes his head, making an unconvinced grumbling noise.  “They’ll come.  They always do.”

Red can’t argue that. He stayed on the edge of the platform until the small hours of the morning, looking down into the dark city far below, watching every gleam of light and flicker of movement, waiting for the first flash of red glass eyes or matte metal claws.

The others drift downstairs eventually, one at a time; Duke grimaces at the vegetable mess, but Kaia piles in with every sign of enjoyment.  Red sits back and listens to Jacob and Duke bicker, Kaia’s laughing jabs at both of them indiscriminately, and lets the sunlight soften some of the harsh, nauseated fatigue.

He doesn’t realize he’s beginning to drift off, but when his comms light up red with an urgent chime, it startles him badly enough he almost drops his drink.

“Come in,” Abraham’s voice says, flat and low.  “Red.”

“Copy,” says Red, and pushes himself up, already moving. The rest of his team reorders around him, Jacob heading for the garage, Duke and Kaia immediately running for their rooms, their weapons.  Red picks up his gloves, feeling the circuitry inside thrum hotly against his palms. “Incoming?”

“How did you guess,” says Abraham dryly.  “Three Climbers.  Two on North Side, one coming up from the East.  And she’s sending up the Dragon.”

Red falters in mid-step, then growls and heads down the staircase to the garage, taking the steps two at a time. “Can you make it up?”

“I can try,” Abraham says, but Red knows that tone to his voice, rough and grim.  “I think she’s targeting the medical complex on platform 18.  Don’t get distracted.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Red says, and Abraham gives a brief bark of a laugh and then cuts the call.

--

Deluxe looks beautiful in the sunlight, if beauty is something to pay attention to; Red has seen it a thousand times, growing up from the old undercity of Detroit like an indescribably huge tree made of silver and marble.  The platforms that make up the city itself look almost fragile from a distance, hovertech and superlight polymers, gleaming with solar panels and greenery.  The massive support structure that holds the city up grows dirtier and more patchwork as it descends into the bristling thicket of ancient, blocky concrete buildings.

Whole civilizations have made their homes on the platforms along that winding trunk.  Around its base, built onto the rooftops of old skyscrapers, Red can see the distant gleam of the Casino King’s sprawling compound, gaudy with red and gold floodlights.  There are urban legends about an entire lost city, one that made its living in among the building-sized struts and cables themselves, before some unspecified calamity cut all communication with them short.

Some of the midway settlements are against Kane, some of them are only indifferent, but Red can only assume that trying to bargain her way through was too much trouble.  Kane took matters into her own hands, and had her R&D invent the Climbers.

Red has eyes on one of them now; a long, low shape, slinking across the platform.  Six-legged, with four glowing eyes each, moving with an unnerving, artificial grace—the mechanical nightmare-offspring of a wolf and some kind of insect.  The tips of their claws hum faintly, lit up—plasma-cutter edges, sharp enough to sink into the polymer like hot knives through butter.  Red is a platform above them, out of their field of vision, but he’s seen the way the things scale vertical surfaces, faster than anything that size should be able to move.

As Red watches, one of them opens its mouth, showing hundreds of needle-sharp fangs lit hellish red from the inside, and lets out an awful, scraping snarl.

“I’ve got eyes on one,” Red says, keeping his voice low.  

“Yeah, yeah, we see ‘em over here too,” Duke says, tight and sharp with bravado.  “Easy.  Let’s get it done!”

“I’ve got your back,” Kaia says.  “Let’s show these things what—”

“Hey, Red,” says a voice, and something taps Red on the shoulder.  “Tag.”

The moment of shock is enough to freeze Red in place for a single fraction of a second, and that’s a hesitation he can’t afford.  A blunt edge slams into his ribs, knocks him over off his feet; he rolls, comes up on his feet again and sends out a blind shockwave of energy—throws himself to one side as a staff sweeps past where his ankles were, and this time when he lashes out he feels the impact strike true.

The Dragon of Detroit takes the hit and lets it bowl him backwards, turns the motion into a back-handspring and comes to a skidding halt, shaking overgrown brown bangs out of his dark eyes.  He’s laughing, smiling as wide and wild as he always does; the deep scar that stretches crookedly from his cheekbone to his chin twists his smile into something just slightly crooked and bitter, but his laugh sounds irritatingly, insultingly genuine.

“Chilton,” Red snarls, and the man spins his staff behind his back and sweeps a bow, grinning.  

“I’m guessing you’re not interested in doing this the easy way, kid,” he says, and Red clenches his fists, lightning crawling up his arms.  “Yeah, I didn’t figure.  Can’t say I didn’t try.”

“The fuck I can’t,” Red snaps, and Chilton huffs out a breath and shakes his head, ever-present smile never fading.  “If you really cared about not hurting anybody you wouldn’t be working for that—”

It’s the flicker of Chilton’s eyes that gives it away, and the faintest sound of scraping metal; Red dives to one side on instinct, just in time to avoid the snap of jagged metal jaws and six sets of wickedly-clawed feet.  He comes up swinging, lands a few solid hits; the Climber shrieks as one of its legs spasms and cracks, red lightning and dented metal grinding in one of its back legs.

“Backup!” Red snaps into his comm, and then there’s only the fight.

He’s being distracted, he knows it even while it’s happening, but he can’t break his focus away long enough to care.  Chilton is gone, he has to be raiding that medical compound, and Red is stuck here, fighting some stupid robot—

“Heads up!” yells a voice, and Red glances up and then back-pedals abruptly as a huge, blocky shape comes rocketing off the next platform up and drops like a comet onto the Climber’s head.  The back half of the bot gives a meaty crunch as Jacob’s construction rig lifts back off of it, leaking nasty, thick, black fluid as it tries to drag itself forward on its two remaining legs; Red steps forward, grimacing in distaste, tears a dented plate away and buries his hand in the things neck to deliver one final, merciless jolt.  The Climber whirrs, gives a gurgling growl, and finally goes still.

“Jumpin’ Josephat,” says Jacob, from inside the clunky, ugly cube he calls a hovercar.  “You still in one piece down there?”

“Where’s Chilton?!” Red says, and then jerks and looks up at the sound of a laugh, echoing off the white walls and walkways around them.  

The Dragon is standing at the very edge of the platform, silhouetted against the sky; he makes eye contact with Red, brief and grinning, one hand on the side of a stolen transport pod. Then he throws off a brief, mocking salute, and launches himself backwards off the edge of the platform into thin air, vanishing over the edge.

“Criminy,” says Jacob weakly, because Jacob is an 80-year-old man in a 20-year-old body.  

“Fuck,” Red hisses, and slams a fist down on the ground, leaving lightning-jagged scorch marks across the white polymer.  Takes a few breaths and repeats, “…fuck,” soft and hoarse, poisonous in his mouth.

“Yeah,” says Jacob, and his boots thump softly as he slides down, his hand settles carefully on Red’s shoulder.  “C’mon. Let’s get back to the others.”

[delimeful]

be unbroken or be brave again (1)

here it is! an AU ive been working on for a while that i am publishing today, 12/19, for our favorite emo nightmare’s birthday! :D hope you enjoy! 

warnings: blood, mention of illness and murder, injury, roman is a jerk but he’s just being an idiot, hurt/comfort

-

Virgil frowned, studying the tracks on the ground. Horse hooves, but more importantly, the treads of heavy boots. The same boots that had been following them from a slowly-decreasing distance for months now. He sighed, scuffing his own bare foot against the ground. 

The hunter was gaining ground too fast for comfort. 

If he had been alone, he could have lost the human easily. Would have lost him on day one, in fact. The reason his kind were so hard to track was because of their ability to take off and vanish into thin air, after all. Assuming they weren’t too busy starting massive fires, that was. 

Still, he wasn’t alone, and he had no plans to reveal his true self to the one person alive that tolerated him, so walking it was.

He turned to circle back around to camp, his leathery wings fluttering once on his back. It was dumb of him to let the glamor down in the open like this, but he couldn’t help but want to release the spell whenever he got the chance. It was taxing, hiding a bunch of his true features all the time, even in sleep. He would put it back up before he got to camp, but for now his horns and scales would stay, the same deep violet purple as his wings and tail. 

Those features were undoubtedly the reason the hunter was after them in the first place, probably to harvest his parts or slay him for the greater good or whatever nonsense Knights were always spouting about their reasons for murdering a whole species. He grit his teeth, fangs pressing into his lips near hard enough to cut.

He was used to such treatment, but Patton was perfectly human, and now he too was in danger because of Virgil. He should have taken more measures to hide their trail, shouldn’t have let the hunter catch his scent. Maybe he should have killed the last few that came after him. He imagined the look on Patton’s face if he ever found out and shook his head to dismiss the thought. He was as soft as ever when it came to humans, and he’d continue to be that way until he inevitably died. Probably his mom’s fault.

… Whatever. He’d make up some excuse to get him and Patton on the road again, take some shortcuts to lose their pursuer, and be more careful in the future. Lesson learned. 

A scraggly-looking tree he had marked earlier reminded him that he was getting closer to the clearing, and he quickly touched the stone between his collarbones to re-cast the glamor. It settled onto him like a heavy cloak, his senses becoming slightly muted, and he made sure to check his reflection in one of his daggers before moving on.

The clearing was fairly quiet, shielded from view by thick brush, but he could hear the soft movements of someone shuffling about in the dirt. Patton had already gotten back from gathering kindling, then. He pulled the canteens from his bag, to show that he had completed his own task.

“Hey, Pat, I found a river near-” His voice cut off as he realized that the man crouched in their campsite wasn’t Patton.

He was tall, with heavy leather armor covered in red sigils over every inch of him, kneeling in the dirt with one hand brushing the footprints that the two occupants had left in the camp. The same exact thing Virgil had been doing only minutes ago. Unquestionably a hunter by attire alone. 

The Knight’s head had snapped over to look at Virgil the moment he’d called out, and now they were frozen in a silent staring contest. Virgil let his gaze dip slightly to the sigil on the Knight’s shoulder, and paled at the sight of it. It was the Faerin coat of arms. 

A Knight from the Faerin Kingdom, known far and wide to be the most vicious and merciless to Dragonwitches. A Knight from an empire that he knew didn’t care about collateral damage any more than the dirt under their feet. 

A Knight that could hurt Patton, if the human got back to camp while Virgil was fighting him.

Without another thought, he bolted, the canteens dropping to the ground as he fled. There was a yell behind him, and he felt a wave of relief as the sound of footsteps took off behind him, a glance over his shoulder confirming that he was being chased doggedly. The Knight was taking the bait. Patton would be safe.

Now all he had to worry about was saving his own skin. 

He sprinted through the forest, twisting and ducking in case the Knight had projectiles. Maybe he didn’t even have to fight him. If he could outstrip the guy, he could double back and lose him, go back to the camp and get Patton and book it-

Twang!

He barely had time to register the thin, near-invisible wire he’d plowed through before something heavy and rough hit him head on, knocking him to the ground. He twisted around and dropped the glamor, trying to flare his wings and tail to get the offending object off, but it only got him more tangled in the metal netting. The trap- for what else could it be?- was weighed down at the edges by solid metal balls, so he couldn’t even rise to his feet to try and keep running. 

In a moment of desperation, he reached for the power of his other form, the one already snapping for control like a cornered animal. Nothing. The metal burned unnaturally against his skin, no doubt enchanted for the very purpose of holding him.

Loud footsteps made him still for a moment, and he summoned up a hateful glare as the Knight approached with an air of casualness. The bastard didn’t even seem out of breath. 

“Gotcha.” He said, voice arrogant, and Virgil snarled inhumanly at him between pants. “Oh, don’t be like that. Not my fault you were too slow.” 

He stepped closer, ignoring the threatening growl building in Virgil’s chest, and grabbed the upper arch of his left wing, entangled firmly in netting. He jerked away anyways, trying to thrash the limb, but the Knight’s grip held firm, fingers digging into the delicate flesh. “Let go!” 

“In a second, in a second.” The Knight’s face fell into a frown, deepening the longer he stared at the wing he was pulling on. “I suppose they look black in the right lighting…” He hummed, releasing the wing and circling back around to face Virgil from the front with a speculative gaze. 

Virgil’s lip curled up into a sneer. With the focus on his wings and scale color, this guy had to be a skinseller. Perfect. Just what he wanted to deal with today. Not.

The Knight flipped an ornate dagger from hand to hand, wandering slowly into range. He threw the dagger into the air with a frankly unnecessary amount of flair, and Virgil followed the shine of the blade carefully. “Committed any notable atrocities lately, monster?”

“Nothing more atrocious than that outfit.” Virgil shot back, voice rough and gravelly. He eyed the distance between the Knight’s hand and his teeth speculatively. Just a bit closer...

The knight placed a hand on his chest in a dramatic gesture of offense. “Honestly, you must be delirious with stress to think I look anything other than fantastic.” He cast a judgmental eye at Virgil’s own appearance. “Maybe delirious with heatstroke, under all that black. I wonder, does the color of your terrible clothing choices carry over to your true form, beast?”

“Bite me,” Virgil spat, and then lunged at the Knight’s nearest hand, dagger be damned. The longer he kept this one occupied, the longer Patton had to realize something was wrong and get out of there. 

Unfortunately, the Knight was quicker. His target was yanked out of biting reach, and then fingers promptly wrapped around one of his horns and tugged, driving his face into the ground. He grunted in pain as something in his nose gave way with a pop, and warm blood started to drip down over his mouth.

“Nice try, Bitey,” the Knight said, ignoring the low, rumbling growl radiating from Virgil’s chest. He planted the dagger in the dirt, inches from his bloody face. “Now, how about you make this easier on yourself and tell me the scale color of your little friend you meant to meet back in that camp? What was their name… Pat?” 

Virgil stiffened, his tail lashing back and forth as much as it could while so entangled. “Fuck me and my big mouth,” he mumbled incoherently into the ground, grimacing at the taste of dirt. 

“What was that?” the Knight asked, pulling him upright so he could breathe properly again. Virgil cleared his throat a few times as though about to speak, and then opened his mouth and spat a mixture of blood, mud, and spit directly into the Knight’s face. 

The Knight dropped him like a hot potato. “Ugh, come on!”

He sounded so disgruntled that Virgil couldn’t help but laugh hoarsely from where he was laid out on the ground. “Too gross for you, Your Highness?” 

The hunter stiffened, pausing in the process of wiping his face to stare at Virgil with surprise. Virgil’s lips curled up slightly, vindicated by the hunter’s reaction. Got it in one. 

He bared his fangs in an unfriendly smile. “You think you’re being subtle? I’ve met plenty of hunters, and only idiots and nobility wear Faerin’s crest and finery like a badge of honor. Congrats on fitting in both categories.” 

The Knight scowled at him, hooking a hand in the wires and hauling him up by the shirt. Virgil managed to brace himself just before the Knight slammed him up against a tree, and he hissed a pained breath through his teeth as the bark scraped against his back and the soft in-between flesh of his wings. 

“And how many of those hunters are still around?” the Knight asked, deadly serious as he pressed his other arm against Virgil’s throat and leaned forwards until they were only inches apart. “How many did you kill? How did you slaughter them?” 

Virgil almost rolled his eyes at the dramatics of it all, struggling to breathe through the damn bloody nose. If he’d killed those hunters, there was no way this idiot would have ever caught wind of him, let alone tracked him down like this. Knights were all the same. They only heard what they wanted to hear.

“Come on, you already know. I did what you’re supposed to do with trash,” he rasped, inhaling deeply enough to make his lungs ache from the pressure. A purple haze began to leak from his lips. “Burned it.” 

The Knight’s eyes widened, and he leaned back as Virgil clicked the sparkscales in the back of his throat and ignited a breath of deep purple flame directly into the hunter’s face. He held it for as long as he could, his exhale finally sputtering out seconds later. 

The Knight stared back at him, unimpressed. His eyebrows were slightly singed, but the rest of him remained completely intact, courtesy of the protective charms embedded in his armor. The sigils glowed and pulsed like hot coals. “Did you really think that would work?” 

“Nah,” Virgil admitted, and then drove his knee into the Knight’s groin with all the force he could muster. “But this will.”

The Knight made a noise that sounded like a mix between a mouse’s dying squeak and the wheeze of someone getting all the air punched out of their lungs. Virgil grinned with immense satisfaction at the way his skin paled to the color of spoiled milk, and then took advantage of his loosened grip to slam his forehead against the Knight’s with a resounding crack.

“Freaking ow!” the Knight recoiled, finally letting go of him to step out of range. As soon as he was released, Virgil’s legs gave out from under him, leaving him collapsed at the base of the tree trunk. He had planned to try and stay upright, maybe make a grab for the dagger or even just make some progress on untangling the net, but… 

“What in the underworld is your skull made of?” he screeched, trying to blink away the spots in front of his eyes. It felt like he’d headbutted a concrete wall instead of a normal human. “Do you have rocks in there instead of a brain?”  

“Me?” the Knight scowled, pointing at him imperiously. “What did you think you were going to achieve? Who in their right mind uses dirty street fighting without being able to run away after? You’re wrapped in a net!” 

“Oh, I dunno,” Virgil really did roll his eyes this time, “maybe someone who doesn’t want to die?” 

The Knight stopped short, and turned away to take a deep breath before facing Virgil again with a less harsh expression. “Look, I admire your tenacity,” he admitted. “I’m looking for a particular dragonwitch, and I doubt that you’re it. I don’t want to kill you. You don’t even have to tell me anything that would give me an advantage in a fight against your friend. If you’ll just tell me what they look like, I can escort you to become a protected citizen of Faerin.”

Virgil snorted. “Oh, so I can have my powers suppressed and die slowly of tar-lung working in some harvester mine instead?” And that was if an uppity Knight didn’t randomly decide to execute him for existing too loudly. Protected citizen, his ass. “I’ll pass.”   

“Yes, your powers would be sealed for everyone’s safety. And dragonwitches can’t get tar-lung.” The Knight frowned at him in reprimand, and Virgil almost pitied him for his sheltered naivety. He’d be in for a rough time in towns after he passed the range of his kingdom’s influence. Everyone hated dragonwitches, but a fair few hated Faerin as well.

Oh well. Not his problem.

“Even if that was in any way appealing, I’m not the type to sell out my friends,” Virgil flared his wings one last time, as though the net would suddenly decide to answer his pleas and fall away. Instead, the metal only cut into his wings harder, and he dipped his chin to touch his soulstone, his glamor settling back over him and his aching wings fading into non corporeality. If the hunter wanted to kill a monster, he’d make himself look as human as possible.

He leaned his head back against the tree, tilting his chin up in challenge. Pinned behind his back, his hands trembled. “Be more merciful your kingdom, hunter, and give me a quick death.” 

As expected, the jab at his kingdom made his expression darken with anger. Chauvinists. So predictable.

“I already offered you mercy, and you refused it.” The Knight pulled a broadsword from its scabbard with a scraping of metal, and Virgil clenched his hands into fists, keeping his gaze locked with the hunter’s. How was he planning to strike? The head or the heart? Could he dodge like this? For how long? Was there a point?

“I suppose we’ll see if your body will lure your friend out of hiding.” The Knight lifted his blade high, the tip poised to stab down through Virgil’s heart.

In the next moment, a human-sized blur dove out of the trees, tackling him from the side with a battle cry and knocking the hunter clear off his feet. They both went tumbling, the sword sliding across the ground far out of reach of any party, and Virgil stared at his savior in disbelief. Who would be stupid enough to attack a Faerin Knight within the kingdom’s borders, all alone-?

The attacker sat up from where he was half-straddling the Knight, twisting to check on Virgil. “Are you okay?” he cried, face strained with worry. 

“Patton?” Virgil’s voice went up an octave, fear surging through him. He started clawing desperately at the netting again. “Patton, no, no no no you have to run! Get out of here!” 

The human’s face furrowed in confusion. “Wha-?” 

In the next moment, the hunter had surged up and reversed their positions, pinning Patton to the ground by his shoulders. Virgil lunged forwards and let out an inhuman screech as he toppled over, his struggles only making the trap tighten against his flesh further. 

“Aha!” the Knight declared, and pulled a waterskin from his belt triumphantly. He tugged the cap off with his teeth and splashed the liquid inside all over Patton’s face. 

Patton spluttered, completely unharmed. “Rude! What is the matter with you? Why are you attacking Virgil, he didn’t do anything to you!” 

The Knight gaped, shocked enough that Patton was able to shove him off and climb back to his feet. “What- you’re human?” 

Virgil tried to push himself into an upright position, his blood still rushing in his ears from the scare. “Patton, please, you’ve got to get out of here!”

Patton, the wonderful idiot, gasped at the sight of him, bloodied and bruised, and immediately headed towards him. “Don’t worry, Virgil! I’ll help you!”

Virgil resisted the urge to groan, and then tensed against the net again as the Knight grabbed Patton’s wrist to stop him. “Wait!”

“Oh, what now?” Patton asked scornfully, with the sort of this-better-be-good expression that would have had Virgil properly abashed for at least an hour.

The Knight barely faltered, a testimony to his bravery. “You don’t have to listen to this foul beast’s orders anymore! You’re free.” And there was a testimony to his idiocy.

“What foul beast?” Patton’s frown only grew more severe as the Knight gestured expansively to Virgil’s entangled form. He pulled his wrist free to jab a finger into Roman’s chest. “That’s Virgil, and I don’t know what ale you’ve been drinking, sir, but it must have gone sour, because he’s just as human as you and me!” 

Virgil felt a chill go down his spine. Now that he wasn’t imminently facing the worst possible scenario (Patton dying), he had enough clarity to be terrified about facing the second-worst possible scenario (Patton finding out he wasn’t human). The Knight looked between the two of them, gaze settling on Virgil, probably easily reading the guilt written all over his face.

“You’ve been tricked,” he voiced his realization aloud, and held a hand up to stop Patton from going further. “Not to fear! I can prove my claim to you. I have an elixir that destroys any glamor upon contact. I’ll show you.” 

Ignoring Patton’s protests, the Knight strode up to where Virgil was propped up on one arm, his lips thin with anger. Virgil leaned back as he knelt next to him and met cold eyes, knowing it was meaningless to plead but desperate enough to try anyways. “Please.”

“Were you planning on granting that man a merciful death when you got tired of toying with him, demon?” the Knight asked with a voice like ice. Virgil didn’t even have time to open his mouth before the waterskin was upended over his head.

The elixir burned as all human magic did, and as he hissed, his glamor cracked away like ash to reveal his slitted pupils, his pointed ears, his dark scales. All irrefutable proof of his true nature. 

A sharp inhale made him look up, and he met Patton’s shocked gaze. “V… Virgil?” 

The fear in Patton’s soft brown eyes was like a physical blow. He looked away, noting the way the Knight stood between him and Patton protectively. He’d retrieved his sword.

“You can see the truth, clear as day,” the Knight spoke gently, but his words were harsh. “This is no friend of yours. The monster was only pretending to be human to lull you into a false sense of security. It’s a… common tactic for dragonwitches that prefer to,” the Knight grimaced, “play with their food. I’m sorry.”

“Virgil? That’s not true… is it?” Patton sounded near tears, and though he’d had nightmares about this exact scene frequently, he had never realized the way it would hurt, to hear his only friend doubt him. 

He opened his mouth, the words all on the edge of forming. Of course it wasn’t true! He would die before he hurt Patton, he would do anything to keep him safe. The very idea that he would ever devour his friend made him feel as though he was a second from throwing up.

All these defenses and more sprang to his mind, clamoring over each other, and yet- 

His mouth shut with a click. What would happen if he convinced Patton of his innocence? What would the Knight do? What would Patton do, to protect him? If there was one thing Faerin Knights excelled at, it was killing innocents. He was still trapped. He couldn’t do anything if the Knight turned his blade on Patton. 

He had to make sure Patton wouldn’t put himself at risk like that. He… He would do anything to keep Patton safe.

Even if that meant being the villain the Knight wanted to slay. 

Virgil swallowed thickly, forcing away the desolation to focus on what mattered. If he had to put on a show, it would have to be convincing. Patton would never believe it otherwise.

He let the last scraps of the glamor fall away, let his face shutter off into something dismissive and uncaring. “So you got me. I just wanted an easy meal at hand, is that such a crime?”

The knight stood tall, proud of having broken through a monster’s disguise. He looked down at Virgil with disgust. “Eating people is and probably always has been a crime, yes.”

He shrugged with loose shoulders. “S’not my fault snacks are so easy to fool these days.” His eyes caught Patton’s again, and he forced himself not to look away from the heartbroken expression. “If you really thought we were friends, you’re even stupider than I thought. Looks like your family really did pick the wrong one to die for.”

Patton’s face crumpled immediately, and he let out a sob. The Knight stepped in front of him, blocking Virgil’s gaze. His eyes dropped to the sword in his hand, and he felt a twisted sort of relief that he wouldn’t have to deal with the fact that he’d just said those awful things, that he’d taken what Patton had confided in him and turned it into something sharp to hurt him with. 

“Don’t worry. He won’t be able to hurt you or anyone else, anymore,” the Knight reassured Patton, and stepped forward with menace in every movement. 

Virgil forced himself to stay still, squeezed his eyes shut and ignored his racing heart. He was silent as the prince raised his blade, compliant because if it meant it wouldn’t be turned on Patton then it was worth it. It would always be worth it. 

He waited for the swing of the blade, the last thing he would ever hear- 

Clunk. 

The Knight made a strangled sound. Virgil’s eyes opened of their own accord, watching as the hunter swayed on his feet, his eyes rolling back in his head, and then collapsed bonelessly onto the ground. 

Just behind him, Patton stood, clutching a rock the size of his head in both hands. He was looking down at the fallen Knight with an expression that was just as stunned as Virgil felt, and dropped the rock to the forest floor with a thud. 

He took an uncertain, wobbling step towards Virgil, and he couldn’t help but flinch back because anything Patton did to him right now would be justified, but it would still hurt-

-and then there were suddenly trembling arms around him, tugging him into a hug against a warm chest. He froze, body stiff. “Patton...?” 

“You are a terrible liar,” Patton informed him wetly, “and you’re my best friend, you dummy. Human or not.” 

His voice was thick with tears, hitching with every breath, but it was devoid of hatred or fury or fear that in that moment, Virgil had never heard anything so comforting. 

“I’m sorry,” he blurted, and then, as though the words had broken a dam of tension within him, he immediately started muffling his own strangled, hiccuping sobs into Patton’s neck. “I didn’t m-mean any of that, I swear, I just- I’m sorry for not telling you. I was- I was scared.” 

“You were scared?” He could barely move his arms in the net, but Patton was doing enough clinging for both of them, limbs wrapped around him like a koala as he spoke. “When I realized that you’re actually a dragonwitch, I thought for sure that hunter was going to try and kill you! Again! That’s two murder attempts too many!”

Virgil made a sound that was half-chuckle, half-sniffle, and set his chin on Patton’s shoulder. “You’re really not mad?”

“Yeah. I’m not mad.” Patton stuck his hand under the net’s grooves and combed his fingers through Virgil’s hair soothingly, barely hesitating over the ridges where his horns met his skull. “It’s okay. I… I get it, Virge. I forgive you.”

The simple statement set him off again, which set Patton off again, and they went through a whole second round of tears and snot before Virgil felt coherent enough to speak once more. 

“What are we gonna do with that guy?”

Patton pulled away from him slightly so they could both stare at the unconscious body of the hunter. The guy totally had a head wound. Looked like his thick skull could be defeated after all.  

“Well…” Patton wiped a sleeve over his nose and then tapped his chin in consideration. “It’s been a while since we visited home. We could take him there. You could carry us there! Oh, we can travel places so fast now!” 

Virgil gave him a flat stare, ignoring the flying comment for the moment. “You want to take a Faerin Knight. To our house.” 

“Well, I’d feel kind of bad leaving him here with a nasty head wound like that!” Patton said, as though he wasn’t the one who had caused the injury. Or, more likely, because he was the one who had caused the injury. Virgil sighed. 

“Yeah, okay, fine. But I’m not going to like it. And he’s definitely not going to like it. And I’m not babysitting him.”

[doritopaw101]

Arc1, book 2: Chapter 13

As he plunged into the stream Icefire managed to keep one clawhold on the branch. He felt as if he were fighting a spiky wooden enemy, twigs that lashed at him and raked through his fur while his breath bubbled into the dark water. His head broke the surface briefly, but before he could gasp in air the branch twisted and rolled him under again.

Terror made him strangely calm, as if time had slowed down. Part of Icefire's mind told him to let go of the branch and fight his way to the surface, but he knew that if he did that he would risk his life; the current was far too strong for him to swim. The force of the water meant there was nothing he could do but dig claws in and endure. 'Starclan help me!' he thought frantically.

His senses were just beginning to ebb into the tempting darkness when the branch rolled over again and brought him back to the surface. Choking and spitting he clung to it, with water churning along on either side of him. He could not see the bank. He tried to haul himself further out of the water, but his sodden fur was too heavy and his limbs were growing stiff with cold. He did not know how long he could hold on.

Just as he felt that he was about to let go, something brought the branch to a jarring stop. It shuddered along its whole length, almost throwing Icefire off. As he clung on desperately, he heard a cat screech his name. Twisting his head, he saw that the other end of the branch was jammed against a rock that jutted out into the stream.

Fogtail was crouched on the rock, leaning down toward him. "Move, kittypet!" he growled.

With the last drop of his energy, Icefire scrambled along the length of the branch. Twigs whipped across his face. He felt the branch lurch again and flung himself at the rock, his front paws scraping at it while hind legs thrust through the water. His paws had barely touched stone when the branch was swept away from underneath him.

For a heartbeat Icefire thought he would follow it. The rock was smooth; there was no purchase for his paws. Then Fogtail reached down and Icefire felt his teeth meet in the scruff of his neck. With the other cat's help he managed to claw his way upward until he was crouching on the top of the rock. Shivering, he coughed up several mouthfuls of stream water before he looked up. "Thanks, Fogtail'' he gasped

Fogtail seemed in a trance for a moment then looked away "It was nothing"

Tiger-roar padded up behind from the rock. "Are you hurt?" he demanded, "Can you walk?"

"I..I'll live" he groaned. He felt a paw hit his side. He saw the tortie molly from before but there was a tortie tom at her side. They must be related.

"Danger" the molly said

"Rapids help" the tortie tom added

Icefire felt confused but the memory of saving Pikekit and Perchkit ran through his mind. "Apprentices" Goosefeather's voice yowled.

"Icefire?" he felt Fogtail nudge him

"Others are in danger" he replied standing up with a jolt

"What?" Fogtail said in confusion

"How would you know kittypet?" Chestnutclaw sneered

Icefire narrowed his eyes "I just know listen"

The sound of distressed yowls became audible then went down a little but then became higher. "Help!" That was Ebonypaw

"Someone please!" Lightpaw yowled

"Move" Icefire hissed

Chestnutclaw growled "I'm not-"

"My kits are in danger" Tiger-roar stormed past heading to the sound of the voices. Icefire followed the mighty tabby as did Fogtail, he didn't care to see if Chestnutclaw was following. He wouldn't be surprised if Chestnutclaw had tried to have him killed, which would make it easier to be there for the kits.

He nearly crashed into Tiger-roar when the deputy had stopped dead. He looked over to the side, he saw flashes of fur. He didn't think, he acted. He jumped in with reckless abandon, he saw Ebonypaw thrashing in the water. He fought against the rapids as best as he could. He saw the apprentice's head go under and dived down. He remembered his training from Riverclan and kept his eyes open.

He bit into the black apprentice's scruff. He didn't cough as he came to the surface, that would mean letting go. He did his best to swim back but the tide was trying to swallow him. He felt something hit his head and realized it was a stick being held by Fogtail.

"Ebonypaw bite into me and don't let go" Ebonypaw didn't argue. Icefire didn't flinch as he felt the sharp sting of teeth fastening into his flesh, he felt numb to the pain. He wrapped one arm around the black apprentice and fastened his jaw onto the stick and gripped it with his free paw.

Fogtail snapped his head to the side, moving the stick faster until it neared dry land. Icefire pulled himself a few inches onto the ground before falling. Ebonypaw fell into her side, coughing up water then panting. Icefire quickly got up, he nudged the apprentice "Who else?"

"O..wl...Li..ght..P..Pounce..H...Hawk..Ch..ive '' Ebonypaw stammered. Tiger-roar pulled Ebonypaw close to him, licking her ferociously. The dual colored tabby's fur was dripping wet which told Icebelly that he had been in the waves as well but didn't have any luck.

Icefire knew in his gut that cats would die, he wondered if Ebonypaw realized he couldn't save them all. Even if most of the clan was here, they had to think smart and know that the rapids were dangerous.

Icefire dashed back in, fighting with his might looking for the other apprentices. "Icefire over there!" Fogtail yowled

He turned his head and saw Lightpaw clinging to a rock. He pushed against the waves, he felt a wave swallow him for a moment, he quickly went back to the surface. He nearly smashed into the rock Lightpaw was clinging on.

"Come!" He scowled to the apprentice

Lightpaw was frozen, the waves lapping at her white fur. Her eyes closed and her breathing was ragged. Icefire had no time for Lightpaw's trance. He grabbed the apprentice's scruff and made his way back to the ledge. He was almost there when he felt his limp leg caught in something, it was sharp as a thorn. He wanted to yowl in anger but he wasn't going to let Lightpaw die, seeing Redtail looking off only fueled that.

He ignored the sharp pain as it dug deeper into his flesh. He tossed Lightpaw to the side. He fell with a thump, his energy draining, he smelled blood.

"Where are the others! I told Chestnutclaw to get help!" Fogtail mewed as he licked Icefire's injured leg. He saw Tiger-roar toss Chivepaw to the side.

Icefire panted, he wanted to let sleep take him but the tortie molly's stare made him shut it away. The molly said nothing but pointed her head to the right.

Icefire turned his head to see Hawkpaw, Pouncepaw, and Stagpaw climbing a tree but he froze in horror when he saw two figures on the branch, it took him a moment to realize it was Nutwhisker and Mudfoot, he saw another figure but couldn't see clearly who it was, the figure however grabbed Pouncepaw by his scruff and toss him but the apprentice didn't hit the waves but the rocks close by, the crack of bone rang through almost over taking the sound of rushing water.

"NO!" Icefire screeched

"Fox-heart!" Sandstorm's yowl cracked through as a patrol came over, Ebonypaw leading.

The last thing Icefire heard before blacking out was Hawkpaw and Stagpaw's yowl of help.

/

Raveneye sat close to Icefire but was close enough to hear Sandstorm hiss as Thymeroot placed more cobwebs on her wounds. "You did well sis"

"Should've killed them," Sandstorm muttered. Raveneye glanced at Lightpaw, she was awake but her face said all her emotions, grief.

"You almost fell into the water, '' Raveneye said, as he laid a tail on her shoulder. He could practically feel his clanamte's anger and grief. He felt worry for Icefire but hot anger for those rouges. If it hadn't been for Ebonypaw's quick action Hawkpaw wouldn't have survived. Stagpaw had fallen in and drowned. He was so proud of his apprentice and he made her aware of that despite what happened.

It wasn't when Voletail played with prey before he killed it, innocent cats died but then again, it wasn't the first time he watched a cat die and could do nothing to stop it. It felt like Redtail's eyes were on him still.

"Would've been worth it" Sandstorm growled "I lost Redtail and now I lost Pouncepaw"

Thymeroot met Sandstorm's eyes "Redtail wouldn't have wanted you to have died too"

Sandstorm tried standing "I was supposed to protect him, they only reason we know it was those rouges was because of Icefire"

"You did all you could, you didn't predict this Sandstorm" Raveneye mewed, easing her back down.

Sandstorm didn't reply but she didn't need to. Thymeroot finished her treatment and let Sandstorm stand.

Good timing because Bluestar called a meeting. Sandstorm and Raveneye padded out of the den with Thymeroot and Lightpaw following. Sandstorm sat close to the center with Dustpelt and Chestnutclaw.

The clan was gathered, Pouncepaw and Stagpaw's bodies laid close near the high rock with Nutwhisker in the center, bleeding from the back of the head and shoulders from Sandstorm.

"Thunderclan we have the loss of two cats taken way too soon" Bluestar said grimly, she narrowed her eyes at Nutwhisker "Their murder aided by this cat you see before you"

"Little roaches it was easy" Nutwhisker purred

"You killed apprentices" Dustpelt hissed "My apprentice did nothing to deserve death"

"He was little stick easy to toss"

Dustpelt and Sandstorm had to be held back by Chestnutclaw and Leopardstorm. Lightpaw cried once more with Amberpaw and Marigoldpaw pulling her close.

"Bluestar, should we alert Marshstar?" Miststrike asked "He was a Shadowclan cat"

"Nutwhisker is nothing but a rogue" Tiger-roar stated

"He should be treated like one" Nightshade added

'Takes one to know one' Raveneye thought, he felt Icefire rub against him "Let the blood flow" they murmured

Sandstorm launched herself at Nutwhisker "Let's give Marshstar a corpse"

/

Icefire chuckled weakly as Cloudpaw pinned him. It had been a few days when his kits made their choice:

-Flashback-

It had been a day after they gave Nutwhisker's body to Shadowclan to deal with, well what was left from the body when Sandstorm had been done with him. Marshstar said they dealt with it in accordance to Shadowclan law.

It was the day where his kits decided if they wanted to stay in Thunderclan or move to Shadowclan permanently.

Honestly this brought him joy rather than the anger he'd been feeling when he'd been constantly fighting with Chestnutclaw over the custody of the kits, Icefire wasn't deemed a danger he could be around his kits more. Chestnutclaw disagreed and Icefire really wanted to fuck up his face, not that he really could since his leg was still fucked, if it wasn't before it is now. Thymeroot said he'd been lucky to keep the feeling in the leg if he didn't slow down.

Icefire gasped in shock when he first saw Cloudkit "What happened to him?"

"We're not to sure ourselves, at first we thought he got into some dye but his fur started to turn black in some places" Badgerfang admitted

"I like it" Cloudkit purred

"Enough of that" Marshstar said, jumping onto a tree stump "Time to chose kits, go to Icefire if you want Thunderclan and go to Fernshade if you want Shadowclan"

Cloudkit was the first to choose, he padded over to him and nuzzled his foreleg "How's Ash, Fern, Tulip and Brindle?"

"They're fine, they miss you" Icefire mewed softly "I missed you so much my little cloud"

Cloudkit nuzzled in his belly fur deeper.

"I wanna stay in Shadow" Violetkit called from Fernshade's tail "I'm sorry"

"It's alright Violetkit, it's your choice"

"I'm staying too Papa" Flamekit added "Tell Shrike, Rosey, and Sunny I love them"

"Me too" Violetkit cut in

Icefire nodded, he turned to Bearkit "Bearkit?"

Bearkit rushed to Icefire "I wanna stay with you"

Icefire liked his daughter softly "Of course my little cub"

-Flashback ends-

The day afterward, the clan grew.

Maplekit and Aspenkit were apprenticed, Snowkit wasn't ready just yet and Mistlekit was staying to keep him company. Aspenpaw was apprenticed to Chestnutclaw and Maplepaw was apprenticed to Icefire himself. Wasn't too shocked, Bluestar did say she wanted him to train one of her kits.

A duel was had and Ebonypaw earned her warrior name in Ebonyshade after her aunt, Nightshade. Raveneye took his place in the medicine den, receiving more raven feathers and a white rose appeared for him at his ceremony according to him, for silence.

Cloudkit, Bearkit, Rosekit, Shrikekit, and Sunnykit were apprenticed along with Ashkit, Fernkit, and Tulipkit since they stalled if his kits came back. Fernpaw was apprentice to Darkstripe, Tulip-paw was apprenticed to Brackenfur, Rosepaw was apprenticed Dustpelt, Shrikepaw was apprentice to Leopardfoot, Sunnypaw was apprenticed to Frostbite, Bearpaw was apprenticed to Voletail, and Cloudpaw was apprenticed to Bluestar, no Icefire was not surprised.

What he was surprised about was Ashpaw's choice to become a medicine cat and Cloudpaw's path to be a Silverblood. He thought that being a Silverblood was being a warrior then becoming a medicine cat. Yellowfang said that was part of it, an apprentice can choose to be one.

Though he wasn't pleased with Voletail as his daughter's mentor, he trusted Bluestar's judgement.

He did have a time spitting at Seedspots when he saw her insulting Nettlemist just for asking how her day was by saying he was useless. Voletail wasn't any better bringing Embereyes to the point of tears. He chased both of them off with Amberpaw's help.

The clan didn't need this right now. Rosepaw, Owlpaw, Lynxpaw, Swiftpaw, and Petalpaw had also been taken by the flood. They found Owlpaw's corpse under a log and found Swiftpaw injured and soaked to the bone but alive. Goldenflower and Tiger-roar refused to let him out alone, Fogtail wasn't much better.

But they were still looking for Rosepaw, Lynxpaw, and Petalpaw's bodies.

Sandstorm had gone after Mudfoot and tried to find the other rogues without a second thought as soon as Bluestar allowed it. She had come back bloody but she did admit she came close but didn't kill him.

He heard Bluestar's mighty yowl and padded over. "With the flooding still present, only warriors may go to this gathering: Darkstripe, Leopardstorm, Seedspots, Mousefur, Brackenfur, Lichenstrike, Cinderfreeze, Sandstorm, Ebonyshade, Smokefur, Graystripe'' Bluestar dropped her gaze to rest on Icefire.

"Thymeroot Yellowfang, is Icefire fit?"

"Aside from his normal issues, he's fine" Thymeroot replied, her gaze more focused on Swiftpaw

Bluestar nodded "Then you may go"

Icefire was glad, he wanted to see how the flooding was affecting the rest of the clans.

"I don't see why a mentally ill cat should go represent Thunderclan" Seedspots whispered to Darkstripe

"Bluestar pities the kittypets and the broken cats" Voletail sneered "It's sad that we have to share prey with them"

Icefire tried to ignore the jabs as he followed after Raveneye, Ebonyshade, and Graystripe.

The sun had gone down, and twilight blurred the shapes of the forest. Bluestar took them straight through the trees to the place where the stream emerged from a hard stone tunnel underneath the Thunder-path, and Icefire wondered what his leader was planning to do. When they reached the tunnel, he saw that floodwater spread out on either side, reflecting the pale light of the rising moon. Water covered the Thunderpath as well, and as the cats watched they saw a monster pass by, moving slowly, throwing up a filthy wave from its round black paws.

Once the monster had disappeared into the distance, Bluestar led her cats to the water's edge on the hard surface of the Thunderpath. She sniffed the water, wrinkling her nose at the stench, and cautiously put one paw into the flood. "It's shallow enough here" she mewed "We can walk up the Thunderpath until we're on the other side of the stream, and get to Fourtrees along the border with Shadowclan"

Walk up the Thunderpath! Icefire felt his coat begin to prickle with fear at the thought of deliberately following the tracks of the monsters. Unlike in the city, the cars here were more reckless and he didn't forget Cinderfreeze's accident.

"What if a monster comes?" Graystripe asked, voicing Icefire's fear.

"We will keep to the side" Bluestar replied calmly "You saw how slowly that monster was moving. Maybe they don't like getting their paws wet"

Icefire saw that Graystripe still looked doubtful. He shared his lover's worries, but there was no point in protesting any more. Tiger-roar would just berate them for being cowards but with what happened to Rosepaw, Petalpaw, and Owlpaw maybe they should try their luck.

"Bluestar, wait" Leopardstorm called as his aunt waded into the water. "Remember how low our territory is on the other side of this stream? I can't help thinking it will be flooded there, too. I don't think we'll get to Fourtrees without going onto Shadowclan territory, which is higher"

The last thing Thunderclan needed was to get in a fight with Shadowclan, more than what happened a little while ago. Chestnutclaw had lead a patrol near the Shadowclan border and a fight broke out but no one had been hurt badly or killed.

Bluestar paused with water lapping over her paws, and looked back at Leopardstorm. "Maybe" she acknowledged, "but we'll have to risk it, if it's the only way"

She set off again without giving her cats any time to protest. There was nothing to do but follow. Icefire splashed along the edge of the Thunderpath just behind Leopardstorm, Tiger-roar brought up the rear to keep a lookout for monsters coming up from behind.

At first everything was quiet, except for a single monster traveling in the other direction on the opposite side of the Thunderpath. Then Icefire heard the familiar growling and the splash of an approaching car.

"Look out!" Tiger-roar yowled from the end of the line.

Icefire froze, pressing himself against the low wall that edged the Thunderpath as it crossed the stream. Darkstripe scrambled on top of it and crouched there, baring his teeth at the monster as it passed. Smokefur had pulled Cinderfrost to the side when the pointed gray cat had frozen up. For a moment it's strange, glittering colors were reflected in the stinking water, and a wave washed out from it, soaking Icefire as far as his belly fur.

Then it was gone, and Icefire could breathe again.

"Thanks Smoke" Cinderfreeze mewed

"No problem"

As they reached the other side of the stream Icefire could see that Leopardstorm was right. The low-lying land on the to-do but continued along the edge of the Thunderpath until the land rose and was dry enough to walk on.

Stepping thankfully off the paw-achingly hard Thunderpath, Icefire raised his head and opened his jaws. A strong, rank yet familiar stench filled his scent glands-the scent of Shadowclan! They followed the Thunderpath out of Thunderclan territory, and now a swath of Shadowclan land lay between them and Gathering at Fourtrees.

"We shouldn't be here" Brackenfur muttered uneasily. If Bluestar heard the comment, she ignored it, quickening the pace until they raced across the sodden turf. There were few trees hers, and the close-cropped grass offered no cover for trespassing cats. Icefire's heart was beating fast, and not only from the speed of their journey. If Shadowclan cats caught them, they would be in trouble, but Fourtrees was not far away, and their luck might hold.

Then he caught sight of a dark shadow streaking over the ground ahead of them, on a course to intercept Bluestar at the head of her patrol. More shadows followed, and a furious yowling split the quiet of the night.

For a heartbeat Bluestar quickened her pace, as if she thought she could outrun the challengers. Then she slowed to a stop. Her warriors did the same. Icefire stood panting: the shadows drew closer, and he saw that they were Shadowclan cats, headed by their leader, Marshstar.

"Bluestar!" she spat as she halted in front of the Thunderclan leader. "Why have you brought your cats into Shadowclan land?" Marshstar was tall enough to reach Bluestar's neck so it was somewhat easy for her to try to size Bluestar up. Marshstar had inherited Yellowfang's uncommon height as had Brokentail which had made him more frighting when he was still leader, and above him.

"In these times of floods, it was the only way to reach Fourtrees" Bluestar replied, her voice low and steady. "We mean no harm, Marshstar. You know there's a truce for the Gathering"

Marshstar hissed, her ears flattened against her head and her fur bristling. "The truce holds at Fourtrees" she snarled "There is no truce here"

Instinctively, Icefire dropped into a defensive crouch. The Shadowclan cats slipped silently into a semicircle around the smaller band from Thunderclan. Like Marshstar, their coats were bristling and their tails lashed in anger. Their hostile eyes reflected the cold light of the moon. Icefire knew that if it came to a fight, Thunderclan was hopelessly outnumbered.

[brooklynislandgirl]

five times kissed {in boots or not}

Sweeter than Wine || Not Accepting

I. The darkness breathes around them and there are no moons to shine down in the vaulted space between their sleeping mats and the impossible ceiling above their heads. There is not really silence either with the breath of twenty younglings scattered about as she creeps her way on hand and knee, dragging pillow and blanket along behind her. She cannot see where she is going and relies on a rudimentary grasp on the Force to offer her a compass point. The fits and starts of his breath help. The distress is palpable. It feels like a burning stone in the middle of her chest. Feels like the way the sky looks just before a sudden squall.

It takes an eternity for her to finally get to where she intends to go, and it is there she hesitates. She knows instinctively were someone to touch her in the dark when she can’t see what is coming, she would lash out in fear and terror. And while the Masters say that one must control one’s fear because it is not a good thing. Bad things should be eli...elem...should be done away with. She doesn’t want to do away with the boy with sun coloured hear and lakes for eyes. Her boy.

She curls up around him. Forming a cocoon of flesh and blood, sharing warmth as she settles her pillow beside his and draws her thin, scratchy blanket across them both. Like her fathers would do, she rubs small circles against his back and leans in close to kiss his cheek. In a voice that is more Force than whisper, she says, “A long time ago, in a galaxy far away there was a beautiful world. And on this world there was a boy and a girl and an enormous garden...” ~*~

II. Her lungs burn. Her muscles threaten to seize. She doubles over. Hands on her knees, gulping in breath after breath, wincing at the sudden stitch in her side. Sweat pours down her back. She doesn’t have half the length of his legs and it’s so unfair! Only a standard cycle ago she’d been taller than him, faster. But now he’s out matched her, even if he’s paid for that growth in pain from bones, from muscle, stretching to new heights. He can now take the stairs two at a time, sometimes three when he’s daring, and all she can do is to try and catch up at a far slower pace. To add insult to injury, he doubles back. Cloak flapping behind him and robes threatening to wrap around his boots. He’ll need a new pair soon. She can tell, being so close to them in the moment, trying her best to not look like some mottled green, sweat coated disaster of a near-human. She is about as successful at that as she has been in keeping up with him.

“You almost had me until the stairs.” Oh yes, he’s just so helpful, isn’t he?  “I know.”

“You’re mad.” Thank you, Captain Obvious. “I know.”

“There’s something you don’t know,” he says, and there’s an edge to his voice. She’s hurt his feelings, unable to keep her internal comments to herself. She risks straightening, determined to meet his gaze when she apologises. That doesn’t happen because as soon as she can meet him eye to eye, she catches the thoughtful look on his face. Eyes too bright, pink in his cheeks, lower lip caught between his teeth. And the next thing that happens is he steals a quick but unmistakable kiss to her forehead. “You just-” “I know.” And with that he’s gone again, only the echo of his laugh teasing her to catch up. ~*~ III. Even apart there’s always something extra, something indefinable that others take note of even if it’s only at the edges of their animal brain, the senses enhanced by their training in the Force. A feeling like neither one is entirely in the physical space they occupy. It is like gravitational pull, perhaps. Something that extends out into space in all directions, for an infinite distance.

On Naboo, Anakin walks in a garden, the grass bending softly beneath his boots, the sun dappling his face as he turns it upwards toward the sky, eyes closed in something very similar to meditation were he not so aware of his surroundings. On Coruscant, Melakeni runs her fingers over a work bench, feeling the cold metal along the edges of her arm as she turns her gaze downward at half-sketched designs. Pod racers, strange ships, a new hand. A moment later, she picks up a neatly folded shirt and holds it up to her face.

She breathes the scent of him in. He feels the breeze waft across throat.  They reach for each other across the vast distance because they both know what it is like to be surrounded by people and be very alone. Some time later, he arrives in the common room and is greeted by the familiar faces that have always been there like stonework or stars ~hazy but really indistinct. They all have names, he even remembers a few of them. It isn’t long after that she arrives. A thousand new suns are born in the clash of blue and green, even if not a single word is spoken, if the only thing that happens is that look.

One person whispers, “Wasn’t he sitting by the window?” Another nods. “Wasn’t she reaching for a book on the shelf?”

And so it goes until the others filter out to get something to eat, called to another part of the Temple, or simply to not be HERE right now.  He gestures and her page turns. She hands him a new stylus.

Only a hand-span separates them.

Lips do not have to touch for a kiss to be so profound. ~*~

IV. She lies motionless in his arms as he carries her solemnly to her resting place. A single petal drifts down from her hair to land at his feet and he will mourn that just as much as the any other part of that except that at least the petal he can keep secreted in a pocket, where fluttering and twitching fingers can close around it, careful not to crush it. It will leave its scent on his skin no matter how often he washes that hand, because it will always and only be the one made of flesh, never the other.

It is both boon and bane that she still looks alive. 

He lays her gently amongst the pillows. With the utmost exquisite care, he strokes her hair. Her still warm cheek. Brushes the pad of his thumb along the curve of her lip. There is no political statement to be made now. No other thought but that in her demise she looks tranquil. As death, tender in its enactment, should be...or so she’d said once. His chest is tight and it’s so hard to breath when hers neither rises nor falls. Pressure builds behind his eyes as he tries to stand still, gazing down at her. His throat dry. Because he’s done this, hasn’t he? It’s all his fault. One moment she was laughing, and the next...

Her eye cracks open.

“Only way this works is if...you know... you can come down here for my dramatic turn to undeath and I savagely tear your throat out in a gush of hot, pulsing blood.”

This Impending Doom comes too close to the real thing for a moment before what she says actually registers somewhere between the layers that he so often exists between.

“And how am I supposed to be horrified at the punishment for my crimes if you keep talking. You’re supposed to be dead at least until I’ve eu-logised you.”  The word is not one he normally uses, and there’s a catch in his pronunciation of it that sets butterflies adrift in her belly, and suddenly their game...isn’t one. Before she realises it, she’s scrambled up to her knees on the impossibly thin mattress. Her hands become steel fists in the seams of his under-tunic. The tip of her nose caresses the underside of his jaw as her lips press into his throat. The desire is there to sink into his flesh. To drink down his freely given essence. But she doesn’t. Even when she can feel him pressing even closer into the kiss. Can savour the shudder that passes through him both in body and in Presence, more radiant than anything she’s seen, all heat and light when her lips part and she traces lines around cartilage there. Can feel the weight of one arm that wraps instinctively around her waist, the other becoming lost in her hair. Every single ounce of her writes into his skin; I love you, I love you, IloveyouIloveonlyyou.

~*~

V. He bolts upright. Sweat sticks to him like a second, clammy skin. His heartbeat sounds like thousands of troops marching at a pace that can never be achieved or sustained even by the most extraordinary means. The breathes he takes are far too quick and far too shallow for her liking. This has happened to Anakin throughout his life, from the first time he slept into the Temple, to now, in the aftermath of all that has happened. They would tell him that it was only nightmare. They would tell him to control himself better, that the dreams have no power over him that he does not give.

And she knows just what a load of bantha dung that is.

It’s been a while since he’s had a nightmare that powerful, that has ruined and will continue to ruin his sleep for days. She keeps a hypo in the drawer on her nightstand, but she’s not wont to use it, hasn’t before. Forcing him to sleep is just as horrific, if not more so than telling him it’s all in his head and to simply let it go. She shifts under the covers that he’s thrown off, and doesn’t take offence when his body stiffens at her touch. She waits for him to become acclimatised to the feel of her. Because nothing is as important in moments like this than for Anakin to feel safe, that he has the power to consent or decline as he wishes, even when all he might want to do is give himself over to her so he doesn’t have to make himself think. So that he can just be, which is often taxing enough without adding anything else to it. When she feels him relax even slightly, she curls an arm around his waist. Leans into his back and presses small, soothing kisses against his shoulder, against his back. With them comes a kind of clarity, not exactly of mind, but of body. She lets go only long enough to allow him to rise. At times like these he has a biological imperative to move. To stop him is to hurt him in an unforgivable way. He chooses pacing and that’s fine.  “Do you want to talk about it, Za’lali?”

“No.” He sounds so young and yet so terribly old. Eventually, he walks himself into exhaustion and comes back to bed, where she’s waited patiently. His head cushioned in her lap as he curls up as tight and small as his body will allow. She never really knows what it is he sees in his dreams. What they show him, what they warn of, but one thing she’s learned, is that they must be listened to. And he will tell her in his own time. In bits and pieces as he’s able to, and she will stitch them together into whole cloth.

She contorts at an odd angle to brush another kiss, this time to his hair. “A long time ago...”