#THIS WOULD EXPLAIN WHY THEY’RE ALIVE AND STARVED

[majosullivan]

Hello everyone. After another one of my re-reads of episode 169…a thought occurred to me…a recollection if you will

[donutfloats]

Wait, are The Fox And Ratau's friendship the "friendship turned mutually destructive that will never heal because neither can trust the other as they once did" variety of The Farmer and The Snake tale or are they the "trusting person helps someone in need, only to be betrayed once their help is no longer required" variety?

I'm pretty sure it's the latter, because yk its the Fox we're talking about, but can't never be to sure considering googling it will lead you to both versions of the tale, so that's why Im asking lol

Both if I were to be honest!

They were friends at one point, sharing similar situations (fucked over by gods)

The Fox however was using Ratau to get to the Red Crown, as it’s the only crown left that he has not tasted

Problem is that he maybe sorta kinda caught actual feelings, and started to care about the Rat, but when Ratau discovered The Fox’s plan he cut off contact entirely to them

So present day The Fox requests to eat Ratau with the thought that it’s because he’s the only being he can eat now that has a connection to the Red Crown, but really he still has feelings for Ratau and wants him close again

They were not healthy for eachother because of their relationship being built off of their dislike of the other gods

The Fox is basically in complete denial of how they feel, while Ratau has trust issues and deals with it by devoting himself entirely to The Red Crown

What would happen if Fox ate Ratau though?

My idea is below the cut (cw emetophobia, only mention of it)

So to explain why Fox would have this reaction I’m about to describe I have to quickly explain Fox’s motives for why they want to eat someone that’s related to The Red Crown

In my au Fox, when they were a mortal, was alive during The Great War. They saw gods die, homes burn, fields wither and seasons stop entirely

There was an intense famine during this time, perhaps a tactic used by Heket to dwindle the numbers of opposing cultists. Fox was amongst those starving

Desperate times called for desperate measures, so Fox ate the corpse of a dead god

It wasn’t the first time they had to eat a person, they were starving after all so there were plenty of bodies to pick from for a time, but the bodies rotted away and there were fewer every day. So when they found the body of a dead god they jumped at the opportunity

They discovered that it had a taste to it, something completely unique that made it stand out from mortal flesh- and he liked it

That’s how it started, every time he found a dead god, he’d eat their body. Time would pass, the fields would grow plentiful again, but The Fox still craved more of the godly flesh

So they made it their goal to taste every crown bearer, and if they couldn’t eat the crown bearer- they’d eat their disciple instead, ones who have consumed their gods blood and now had it course through their veins

That is why they wanted the Red Crown, it is the last one, the final course

With that explanation of Fox’s motives, this is what would happen if they were given Ratau and ate him:

Fox would discover that the Red Crown’s flesh tasted of… nothing. No bitterness, sweetness, sourness- hell they would have taken rotten

But it didn’t taste of anything, and they’re devastated about this

All this time, all this waiting, even eating the one person who ever cared for them- it was for NOTHING

So that sends Fox into a melt down, they want to take back what they had done, so they throw up what ever remains of Ratau

All that’s left is bones

That’s why you never see Fox again after handing Ratau to him, as he sits at the spot he spat Ratau up at. Having made a pitiful shrine with what ever remained of his body, and sits there: in denial of what he has done, hoping maybe Ratau will come back to life again one day like he always did when he was a Vessel

[daryltwdixon]

Part II

warnings: nsfw

word count: 5.6k

The truck bounces over the uneven road as you ride in the passenger seat, Simon driving with one hand on the wheel and the other drumming against his knee. He’s in a good mood—too good, honestly—but that’s how he always is when a pick-up goes smoothly. It’s not exactly your favorite pastime, but you insisted on coming. You didn’t need to explain why.

“This place just doesn’t get old, does it?” Simon says, grinning as Hilltop’s gates come into view. “I mean, come on. Little farmers with their little houses, s’like Little House on the Prairie come to life,” He chuckles, shaking his head.

You glance at him but don’t reply. You’re focused, eyes scanning the perimeter as the truck slows. It’s quiet, the kind of quiet that always makes you wary, but the gates creak open, and Gregory’s face appears, stricken but beaming as usual.

Simon pulls the truck to a stop, stepping out with his signature swagger. You follow, your boots crunching against the gravel as you take in the small crowd gathered near the gate. You had changed out of your dress into more tactical leathers. Your jacket hangs loosely around you, a gun strapped to a holster low around your hips. 

Paul–or Jesus, whatever they call him– stands off to the side, his expression calm but unreadable, while Gregory approaches like a dog eager to please. His hands are clasped together as he glances between you and Simon, clearly trying to gauge how much charm—or groveling—he needs to get through this exchange.

“Well, well,” Gregory drawls, his smile tightening as his eyes settle on you. He squints, tilting his head as though trying to place you. “You must be... um... one of Negan’s, right? Forgive me, names escape me sometimes.”

You keep your face neutral, though your fingers itch to clench into fists. “It’s Y/N,” you reply coldly.

Gregory’s smile doesn’t falter, but his gaze flicks toward Simon, clearly hoping to redirect the conversation. “Of course, of course. Well, Simon, it’s always a pleasure. You know we at the Hilltop value our... relationship with the Sanctuary.”

Simon doesn’t move from where he leans against the truck, his arms crossed, his grin sharp as a blade under his mustache. “Relationship, huh?” he says, his tone lazy but dangerous. “You call barely keepin’ up with what you owe a relationship?”

Gregory laughs nervously, his hands fidgeting. “Oh, now, that’s a bit harsh. We’ve always come through in the end, haven’t we?”

“Just start loading the damn truck, Gregory,” you say, rolling your eyes. Your tone is sharp, but your gaze shifts past him to the people gathered nearby. Families stand clustered near the houses and along the fence line, their eyes wary as they watch the exchange.

Mothers hold their children close, their hands protective as they keep their little ones behind them. Men stand in front of their families, their stances tense but silent, shoulders squared as if bracing for something. It’s not fear exactly—it’s resignation, the kind of weary acceptance that comes from knowing they have no choice but to comply.

You feel it like a weight pressing on your chest. You know what it looks like. That you’re here to take and take, stripping them of what little they have left. Their eyes burn with quiet resentment, their silence louder than words, and for a moment, it makes your stomach twist.

But then you remind yourself why you’re here. Why you take what you do.

These people may resent you, but they need you. Without the Saviors, Hilltop would fall to pieces. The walls wouldn’t hold, the walkers would flood in, or worse—someone else would come along, someone far crueler than Negan. You protect them, keep them safe from the chaos outside these gates. You’ve built a system that works, that keeps people alive.

And when they truly need help, you provide it. If they’re starving, you send food. If they’re sick, you send medicine. They rarely ask—it’s clear they’d rather fend for themselves than owe you more—but the offer is always there. Peace comes at a cost, and you make sure they understand that.

“Anything else you need, Emma*?” Gregory asks, pulling your gaze to him. Your face pulls into a grimace, but just as you’re about to correct him, Simon pushes off the front of the truck where he rests as Hilltop citizens pause their loading of goods and crops. His grin vanishes, replaced by a cold, hard stare. He saunters forward, closing the distance between himself and Gregory in a few quick steps. The height difference alone makes Gregory shrink back, but it’s the look in Simon’s eyes that makes him pale.

“Her name’s Y/N,” Simon growls, his voice low and dangerous as he jabs a finger into Gregory’s chest. “Not Emma, not Ella—Y/N. That’s Negan’s wife, Mrs. god damn Smith, and you sure as hell won’t ever forget her name again. Do we have an understanding?”

Gregory stammers, his face flushing as he fidgets with his hands. “Of course, of course! My mistake, Simon. No offense meant, I assure you.”

Simon doesn’t move, his glare sharp enough to cut. “Don’t apologize to me, asshole.” His voice is a deadly snarl, his handlebar stache quivering in anger, and the tension in the air is thick enough to choke on.

Gregory’s bright blue eyes widen as they dart to you, his expression caught somewhere between panic and forced contrition. “Miss—uh, uh, Y/N,” he stammers, clasping his hands together like he’s about to start praying. “I’m very sorry. Won’t happen again.”

You let your lips curve into a small, cold smile as you tilt your head, your gaze pinning Gregory in place. “Oh, I’m sure it won’t, Gregory,” you say, your tone smooth and syrupy, the venom just beneath the surface. “You’re far too smart to make that kind of mistake twice... aren’t you?”

Simon steps back with a sharp huff, crossing his arms as Gregory stammers out more apologies. You glance at Simon, catching the faint smirk tugging at his lips as he returns to lean against the truck. 

Gregory’s face flushes a deeper shade of red, and his nervous smile falters. “Of course,” he stammers, his hands twisting together like he’s wringing them out. “No offense meant, I assure you. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“Look at that,” Simon says, clapping his hands together as he looks to the back of the truck, now filled with crops, bread, and other goods, “Smooth as butter, huh? That wasn’t so hard, now, was it, Gregory?”

Gregory forces a smile, his nervous laughter returning as he nods quickly. “Oh, not at all. You know we’re always happy to cooperate. Just... happy to keep the peace.”

By the time the Hilltop finishes filling the bed of the truck, Simon calls behind you, tossing Gregory an exaggerated, mocking salute before climbing into the driver’s seat. “Always a pleasure, Greg,” he calls, his voice dripping with faux cheer. “You really do know how to roll out the welcome mat.”

You glance once more at the gathered families near the houses. Mothers keep their children close, their movements stiff and cautious, while men stand silent with protective stances. Their expressions are guarded, their eyes speaking louder than any words: resentment, fear, a simmering helplessness they can’t quite mask. But this is the way of things. Survival isn’t fair, and peace doesn’t come without sacrifice. They hate you, but hate is manageable. Hate keeps them alive.

“And that’s how it stays,” you say evenly, turning back to Gregory. “Make sure you don’t fall behind next time. We expect the same amount next week.”

You grab the handle of the truck door, pausing to level a final look at Gregory. His stiff smile doesn’t reach his eyes, and his hands twist together nervously, but he nods quickly.

“Of course, of course. You have my word,” he stammers, his tone as oily as ever.

Without a response, you pull open the truck door, climbing into the passenger seat. As the engine roars to life, you cast one last look at Hilltop, the gates closing behind you and its people left clutching their silence and resentment.

The truck rattles over the uneven dirt road, the silence between you and Simon stretching thick in the air. A few others sit in the back bench, their eyes fixed ahead, silent and waiting for orders. In the bed of the truck, a couple of men sit among the crates of goods, the faint rustle of movement the only sound aside from the engine’s growl.

Simon drums his fingers on the steering wheel, his gaze flicking to you out of the corner of his eye before he lets out a sharp huff.

“Gregory’s an ass,” Simon says finally, his voice heavy with irritation. “You know that, right? He’s a coward and about as sharp as a butter knife. Forgetting your name?” He shakes his head, his lips curling into a grimace. “The guy should be grateful we don’t leave him tied up for the walkers.”

You glance at him, your expression neutral, but the faintest smirk tugs at your lips. “He’s harmless. Annoying, but harmless.”

Simon snorts, his eyes fixed on the road. “Still, such a spineless prick. You deserve better than his bullshit. Sorry you had to listen to his groveling.”

You lean back in your seat, the cool air brushing against your face as the Sanctuary grows closer on the horizon. “He’ll learn. One way or another.”

You’re barely through the door of your shared quarters when Negan’s voice cuts through the air, sharp and low.

“You went to Hilltop.”

It’s not a question. It’s a statement—a warning. The kind that coils low in your gut and leaves no room for misinterpretation. You stop in your tracks, your fingers brushing the edge of the chair where you planned to drape your jacket. He’s standing near the window, Lucille propped against his shoulder, his expression dark and unreadable. The shadows cast across his face make him look every bit the man the world fears—and the man you call your own. His eyes trail over you, your usual black dress gone and instead the tight sheen of leather clinging to every inch of you as you step inside the room.

“Yes, I did,” you reply evenly, your voice as steady as you can manage. You slip the jacket from your shoulders and set it on the chair deliberately, refusing to let his intensity throw you. “Someone has to make sure things run smoothly.”

“That someone isn’t supposed to be you,” he growls, stepping closer, the weight of his presence filling the room. “You’re my wife, not one of the damn crew. You stay close. You don’t leave the Sanctuary. That’s the rule.”

His words hang heavy in the air, the unspoken implication clear: He’s not angry because you went—he’s angry because you left. Because you put yourself out there in a world that takes more than it gives, and Negan Smith doesn’t take kindly to risks when it comes to you.

“And since when do I sit back and let other people do my job?” you snap, your voice cutting through the tension as you meet his gaze head-on. “This place is ours, Negan. I have just as much of a stake in it as you do.”

The words come out sharp, but they’re laced with something deeper. You don’t let yourself admit it, but part of you knows why he’s angry, why this argument feels like it carries more weight than it should. You’d felt it at Hilltop—the eyes on you, the unease of being outside the walls of the Sanctuary, away from the safety of what you and Negan built. It stirred something in you, something restless and uncertain, but you buried it beneath your work.

Negan’s jaw tightens, his hand flexing on Lucille’s handle. For a moment, neither of you speak. The tension simmers, electric and heavy, as he stares at you like he’s trying to decide whether to argue or let the storm inside him win.

The storm wins.

He sets Lucille aside with a sharp motion, the bat leaning against the wall as he crosses the room in two long strides. His hands are on you before you can say another word, gripping your waist with a force that steals your breath as he backs you against the wall. The cool surface presses into your back, grounding you as the heat of him surrounds you. His presence is overwhelming, his shadow seeming to stretch and fill the room. His hand lifts, fingers curling around your neck—not hard, but firm enough to make you freeze.

His thumb brushes just beneath your jaw, a sharp contrast to the grip of his palm, and his eyes lock onto yours, dark and unrelenting.

“You drive me crazy, woman.” he mutters, his face inches from yours. His other hand plants on the wall beside your head, boxing you in. “Out there, makin’ me worry. You don’t get to do that.”

You glare up at him, your pulse quickening beneath his fingers. “I’m not helpless,” you snap, your voice cutting through the tension. “I’m not one of your damn workers, Negan. I can handle myself.”

He tilts his head, his grin sharp and humorless. “Is that right?” His thumb presses lightly against your pulse, as if testing the speed of your heartbeat. “You think walkin’ out there, lettin’ those assholes at Hilltop see you, was ‘handlin’?”

“I wasn’t alone,” you counter, your voice steady, though the weight of his gaze feels like a noose tightening around you. “I know what I’m doing. I’m not a child.”

“No, you’re not,” he growls, his thumb dragging along the side of your neck before his hand tightens ever so slightly, just enough to make you gasp. “You’re mine. And I don’t take fuckin’ chances with what’s mine.”

His words are low and gravely, and the heat radiating off him seems to scorch your skin. His grip softens, his fingers sliding down your neck to rest against your collarbone, but he doesn’t back away. His lips curl into a smirk as he leans in, his breath brushing your ear.

“You wanna play boss out there?” he murmurs, his voice dripping with dark amusement. “Fine. But don’t you forget who runs this place. And don’t you dare make me come home to wonderin’ if I’m gonna have to bury my wife.”

His words settle heavily in the air, but you don’t flinch, meeting his gaze with defiance. “And don’t you forget,” you say, your voice low, trembling slightly but firm, “this place runs because of me, too, asshole.”

His grin spreads slowly, dangerous and electric, his eyes gleaming with something you can’t quite place. The hand at your throat tightens, his thumb brushing against the curve of your throat. “Goddamn, hunny,” he mutters, his voice dropping an octave. “That mouth of yours…”

You don’t back down, your breath coming quicker now as his gaze drops to your lips. “What about it?” you challenge.

He doesn’t answer with words. Instead, his hand moves to cup your jaw, tilting your face up as he presses his lips to yours. The kiss is rough, all heat and frustration, like he’s trying to remind you exactly who you belong to. Your hands curl into his shoulders instinctively, pulling him closer as his other hand tangles in your hair, holding you in place.

It’s not gentle, but it’s not supposed to be. His teeth scrape against your bottom lip, pulling a gasp from you that he swallows, his grip tightening. The wall presses against your back, grounding you as his weight pins you there, his lips trailing down your jaw to the curve of your neck.

His knee drives between your legs, forcing you open as he presses it into your core, hiking it higher until it settles perfectly against you. The pressure has you stifling a whimper, but Negan growls low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your skin as his hands move with purpose. One drags the zipper of your shirt down, revealing the thin tank beneath, your hardened nipples visible through the fabric. He pushes you harder into the wall, his hand back around your throat as his tongue dives into your mouth, claiming and primal as his other hand slips beneath your shirt, palming you with need.

Negan’s hands linger on you even as the sound of the door interrupts your thoughts and it creaks open, his palm still gripping your throat, his knee pressing insistently between your legs. His head turns slightly at the sound, his body blocking you from view as his voice cuts through the thick air, dangerous and angry.

“D, get the hell out—” he barks, his tone sharp and impatient. “Can’t ya see I’m busy?”

“Yes, sir,” Dwight replies quickly, his voice tight. But there’s something in his posture, the slight hesitation in his step, that makes your stomach drop. Something’s wrong.

Negan’s hand loosens slightly on you as Dwight steps back, dragging the figure beside him with a rough grip. And then you see him.

The world tilts, the air sucked out of the room as your gaze locks onto the man standing in the doorway. The dim light casts shadows across his face, but there’s no mistaking him. Not for you. Not ever.

Dark, matted hair falls over a face so familiar it hurts. The lines are deeper now, his features sharper, harder, with dirt and blood streaked across his skin like war paint. His body is battered and bruised, his frame more solid, broader than you remember. But it’s his eyes that shatter you. Those stormy blue eyes, still as vivid as the day you met him, though now haunted, fractured with pain and disbelief.

Daryl Dixon.

Your husband. Your actual, real, flesh-and-blood husband.

For a moment, you can’t move. Can’t breathe. The heat of Negan’s body is still on you, grounding you, but it’s distant now, irrelevant. The only thing that exists is the man in the doorway. The man you thought was gone forever.

Daryl breaks free from Dwight’s grip with a sharp jerk, stumbling forward a single step. His wide eyes lock on yours, and in them, you see everything—confusion, betrayal, anger, and something deeper, something raw and agonizing that makes your chest tighten painfully.

It’s him. It’s really him.

Your hands twitch at your sides, your body aching to move toward him, to touch him, to confirm what your mind is screaming. But you can’t. Your feet are glued to the floor, your heart hammering in your chest as the truth crashes over you like a tidal wave.

“Stay,” Dwight mutters sharply, grabbing at Daryl’s collar, but Daryl doesn’t react. His chest heaves as he stares at you, his bloodied mouth tightening into a scowl. A fresh trickle of blood runs from his nose, and his shoulders rise and fall with the weight of each ragged breath.

Your lips part, but no sound comes. The words—his name, anything—stick in your throat, choked by the sheer impossibility of this moment. You’d mourned him, grieved for him in silence as the world crumbled around you. You’d spent years imagining this reunion, but never like this. Never with him beaten and broken in Negan’s grasp, staring at you like you were the one who’d put him there.

Daryl’s fists ball at his sides, his voice gravelly and shaking with rage. “Get yer hands off ‘er.”

To your surprise, Negan’s hand drops from your throat and away from your chest, though he doesn’t move far. He’s still caging you in, his frame a wall of heat and strength. His dark eyes flick to you, then back to Daryl, suspicion narrowing them when they land back on you.

“You know this asshole?” Negan’s voice is sharp, his brow furrowing as his gaze searches your face. He steps back slightly, but his body still envelops you, his stance protective and territorial.

“No,” you say quickly, your voice cold and clipped. “Never seen him before.” The lie tastes bitter on your tongue, but you force your expression to remain neutral. Your heart hammers against your ribs as you meet Daryl’s gaze, willing him to understand, to stay quiet. You can’t afford for him to say anything.

Negan turns fully then, his smirk returning, slow and dangerous as he sizes up Daryl. “Well, then meet my new project, baby.” he waves in a big show to him across the room, “You got somethin’ to say to me, buddy?” he drawls, his tone mocking, but there’s a sharp edge beneath it.

When Daryl doesn’t respond, Negan tilts his head, his grin sharpening like a blade. “You’ve got some balls, I’ll give ya that.” 

Daryl’s face twists, his lips parting like he’s about to speak, but the look in your eyes stops him. His jaw tightens, his fists clenching at his sides as he shifts where he stands, seeming to understand the look in your eyes to stay silent.

“You’re sure you don’t know this guy, darlin’? You know what happens to girls who lie to me,” Negan presses, his voice low and dangerous.

“I’m sure,” you say, sharper now, a faint edge of irritation in your tone as you step out from under his arm. “What’s he to me? Just another stray. This is the one you took the other night?”

“Mmmmhmmm,” he hums proudly, “What’s his name again, D?” Negan asks, his tone deceptively casual as he watches Dwight.

“Daryl,” Dwight answers without hesitation, though his eyes flick to you for a brief moment, confusion clouding his features.

Negan suddenly barks a laugh, the sound sharp and grating. “That actually sounds right!” His wide smile turns nearly feral as he steps closer to Daryl. “My guys taught you a lesson when we saw you tryna escape.”

Escape. That’s why he looks so battered, bloodied, and beaten. He had tried to run, to take his chance. A stupid move—anyone who’s been in the Sanctuary long enough knows you can’t outrun the Saviors. They’ll always find you. You feel a flicker of admiration for his stubbornness, but it’s quickly smothered by fear. What else did they do to him before dragging him here?

Negan’s gaze drags over Daryl, his smirk deepening. “You look awful,” he teases. “But don’t you worry—Dr. Carson will fix you all up.

You thirsty? Here,” Negan says suddenly, reaching for a small glass of water on the side table by his armchair. “Ah, hell, I forgot,” he says with a grimace, waving his hand toward his own face. “Your mouth is all puffed up like a baboon’s ass.” He leans back with a slight chuckle, his tone mocking. “Need a straw?”

Daryl doesn’t answer, his glare boring into you, but the silence doesn’t faze him. Negan turns to Dwight. “Go grab him one, huh?”

As Dwight brushes past you to reach the counter, you school your features, forcing yourself to look calm and collected. The tension in your chest feels like it might suffocate you, but you won’t let either of them see the cracks. Not now. Not here.

“See, this guy—he hustles,” Negan continues, his voice light but full of that familiar, dangerous undertone. “I like hustle, right, baby?” He glances at you, flashing a shit-eating grin.

Your gaze flicks to Daryl, catching the faintest flinch at the pet name. The sight nearly undoes you, but you push it down and smile gently up at Negan, nodding as though nothing is amiss. “Of course.”

“Believe it or not,” Negan says, turning back to Daryl, “things weren’t always cool between D and I. See, D here–he worked for points. Him and his super-hot wife and her super-hot sister. No offense, darlin’,” he twists to you with a wink, his grin widening. “Still, no one’s as pretty as you.”

You roll your eyes, folding your arms across your chest. “Get on with it.”

“Aw, don’t be jealous,” Negan teases, his arm looping around your shoulder and pulling you snugly against his broad frame. His possessiveness is suffocating, but you let him. You have to. His touch feels like a brand in this moment, and all you can think about is how Daryl must see it. How it must look to him.

You dare a glance at Daryl. His jaw is locked tight, and his eyes haven’t left you. You wonder what he’s thinking—if he believes you’ve changed, if he thinks you’ve abandoned him, betrayed everything you once stood for. The ache in your chest grows heavier with every second under his gaze.

But you don’t look away. You can’t. Because somewhere in that storm of anger and pain is the silent message you’re trying to send.

Stay alive. Please. Don’t say anything.

“You’re still my number one girl, don’t forget.” Negan’s words are meant to charm, to reinforce his control, but the way Daryl’s jaw tightens doesn’t escape you. His jaw tightens, blue eyes flaring with something raw, and you finally look away. You can’t let either of them see how much this is killing you.

“Anyway, sis needed meds.” Negan continues, “And that shit is hard to scavenge, so it costs more. Sis fell behind on points, so I asked her to marry me. Told her I’d take care of her, in sickness and in health, blah blah blah. Because I’m a stand-up guy.”

Negan laughs, but his grip on you tightens, his voice turning dangerous. “She tells me she’s gonna think about it.” He shakes his head. “Next thing ya know, I’m dealin’ with an orange situation. Dwight-y boy here stole all the medication and took off with his super-hot wife and my super-hot maybe soon-to-be fiancée!”

Your stomach twists painfully as the memory surfaces. The day they ran. The three of them had taken insulin, a vital part of the Sanctuary’s scavenged goods. Negan’s frustration rises, and he grabs Lucille, tapping her against the floor in sharp, agitated thuds.

Daryl and Dwight both flinch. You stand silent.

“So I had to send my guys after him,” Negan says softly, his voice laced with menace. His arm drops from your shoulder, only to pull you in by the waist, his gaze bearing down on Daryl like a predator sizing him up. “Because I can’t let something like that stand.”

He raises Lucille, leveling the barbed weapon close to Daryl’s face. You school your expression into nothingness, but it falters for a split second. Negan doesn’t notice, but Daryl does. His eyes stay locked on you, his expression unreadable yet searing.

“There. Are. Rules,” Negan states, a shake of his barbed wire bat with each word pronounced.

“Cost me an arm and a leg goin’ after him.” He drops the bat, chuckling. “And you know what? Dwighty boy– he still got away. But here’s the thing—D, he saw the light. He manned up. He came back. He asked for my forgiveness.”

Negan’s tone lowers. “I like that. Made me… take notice. But you know how Lucille is. And you haven’t met my beautiful wife, Y/N, before so I’ll fill you in: Both of my top girls are sticklers for the rules.”

You grind your teeth, knowing how true it was. Rules were the foundation of the Sanctuary. They weren’t just boundaries—they were survival. From the moment you helped Negan build this place, rules became your armor, your justification for everything you’d done. You’d learned quickly that in this new world, chaos could rip a community apart faster than any herd of walkers, and order was the only thing that kept people alive.

But rules weren’t just for survival; they were a test. They filtered out the weak, the careless, the ones who couldn’t adapt. They demanded respect, obedience, and sacrifice. And you’d enforced them as much as you’d lived by them, with no room for argument. If someone couldn’t follow them, it was on their shoulders, not yours.

“Rules keep this place runnin’, don’t they, baby?” Negan says, glancing at you with that knowing smirk, as if reading your thoughts.

You stiffen but nod. “They do,” you reply coolly, your tone firm. “Without them, we wouldn’t have made it this far.”

The words are true, but they’re heavier now. You remember every decision you’ve made, every line you’ve crossed to uphold those rules. The rationing system. The points structure. The punishments. You’d told yourself it was all for the good of the Sanctuary, all to keep the wheels turning and the people fed. Even the hardest calls—the ones that left you sleepless, staring at the ceiling as guilt clawed at your chest—were justified by the rules.

But now, standing here with Daryl in that awful sweatsuit, battered and bruised, you feel that foundation cracking beneath you. How many times had you told yourself it wasn’t personal? That it was just the cost of leadership? But this—this—was personal.

Negan chuckles, his grin returning. “So, anyway, Dwight begged me not to kill Sherry. Which I thought was kinda cute. I was just gonna kill him, but then Sherry says she’ll marry me if I let Dwight live. Which, if you think about it, is a pretty screwed-up deal, ‘cause I was gonna marry her sister—‘til she wound up dead, but Sherry is in fact…” he chuckles again, lifting his hand from your waist to cover your ear that isn’t against his body, and whispers to Daryl, “super hot!”

You roll your eyes, pushing your palm into his side to get him to lay off. He smiles down at you, kissing your temple for a long heartbeat, which makes Daryl flinch even more than having Lucille thrown in his face, but Negan hardly notices. 

“Anyways,” he says, “It was a start. But it wasn’t enough.” he says with a warning growl, though the casual arrogance still lines his words, “So, Dwight got the iron.” 

Your mind conjures images you wish you could suppress—red-hot metal searing into flesh, the sickening smell of burning skin filling the air. You can almost hear the echo of Dwight’s screams in your head from that day. Your fingers curl at your sides, nails digging into your palms as you try to maintain your composure.

“And then I married his super hot wife,” he takes a long pause, looking at Dwight, “Ex wife, sorry. And then after all that, he still got on board. And now look at him! Pow!” he shouts, “One of my top guys! And we are totally cool.”

Your eyes search Dwight as he looks away, trying to gauge his true feelings, but he gives nothing away, like he knows better. “The point being,” he says, “that I think,” he points Lucille at Daryl, his voice dropping again, “you can be that guy. I think you are ready to be that guy. If you look around here,” he waves to the room beyond you. 

“This? Well, no, not this,” Negan says, gesturing around the room with a sweep of Lucille. “This is where my lovely wife Y/N stays—and sometimes I do too, when the night is callin’.” He chuckles, his grin wide and self-satisfied. “But somethin’ like this, ya know.” His smile sharpens as he waves toward the door and beyond. “Well, it can all be yours. All you gotta do is answer one simple question.”

Here it was.

You knew this moment was coming. You’d seen it play out countless times with countless men and women—some of them brave, most of them broken. But this time, your stomach twists harder than it ever has before. 

“Who are you?” Negan asks with bravado, a dip of his knees to enunciate the words as he steps toward Daryl. The man that was, a very long time ago it seems, all you ever knew and cared for.

Just say it. You try to plead with your eyes as Negan’s back is to you, Daryl’s gaze never leaving yours. Just say it and you can be free, you won’t get hurt. Please, just say it.

Negan clicks his tongue at Daryl’s silence, shaking his head as if amused. “What, does the cat got your tongue? You just overwhelmed by the awesomeness of this?” His tone is light, mocking, but there’s an edge to it—a warning.

He leans down, his grin fading as he tries to catch Daryl’s eye. “I’m gonna ask you one more time,” he says, his voice dropping lower, colder. “And you’re gonna stop staring at my goddamn wife when you answer me.”

Daryl’s eyes flare with heat, his expression hardening as his gaze snaps to Negan. Blood drips slowly from his nose, drying against his battered skin, but he doesn’t flinch as Negan steps closer. Lucille rises between them, the barbed bat gleaming under the dim light, a threat as sharp as the tension in the room.

“Who are you?” Negan growls, his voice dangerously low. The weight of his question bears down on the space like a vice, and the room feels like it’s closing in.

Please, Daryl. Please. Your mind is screaming now, every fiber of your being willing him to make the smart choice. Just say it. Just say it and live.

But you know him. You know the fire in his soul, the stubborn pride that refuses to bow, even when it’s his life on the line. You see Dwight’s pleading look that he hasn’t schooled into nothingness as he looks at him too. As Daryl slowly lifts his head, meeting Negan’s gaze with unshaken resolve, time slows to a crawl.

“Daryl.”

[vodika-vibes]

congrats on 650 followers!!! i would like to please request a romantic fairytale AU with wolffe (i know not requesting wrecker is such a surprise from me lol)? i was thinking of a sleeping beauty type fairytale specifically. no rush for this and again congrats on 650 followers!!!✨✨

Trapped

Summary: The old palace has been surrounded by, apparently magic, thorns for as long as you can remember. No one has been in the palace in your lifetime. In fact, no one you know remembers the last time the palace was open. You plan to open the palace, and nothing will stop you.

Pairing: Pre Commander Wolffe x F! Reader

Word Count: 2885

Prompt: Sleeping Beauty AU

Warnings: Swearing

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly @kimiheartblade @mire-draws-things

A/N: So, this isn't quite as romantic as, maybe, you were hoping. But I hope you still like it! Sleeping Beauty has a very specific storyline that never quite felt romantic to me, lol.

“It’s not going to work,”

“Not with that attitude it isn’t,” You counter as you open the military case and scan the bottles inside.

Good, they’re all there. 

Seven bottles of bottled fire. More commonly known as White Phosphorus. 

“You run the risk of burning the whole palace down,” Eri says sharply, even as he hands you your harness and pouch belt.

You roll your eyes, close the case with a snap, and take the items he’s handing you, “We’ve been over this. I’ll need two bottles to make an opening in the vines big enough to slide through. And then I’ll need another two to get out. The remaining three are just in case I run into vines inside the palace.”

“Yeah, but—”

You straighten and round on your best friend, “We’ve done the experiments. We know that the vines will grow back faster than all of them can burn. That’s why we’re using bottled fire.”

He sighs and pushes his hand through his hair, “Walk me through it again? Why are we doing this?”

“Uh, because we have no money and no one will hire us and we’re about to starve.” You shoot back as you strap the belt around your waist and then grab the harness and pull it on. 

The only way to get to the palace, and through the vines that coat the walls, is to use a zipline from a nearby building. The harness is for your safety and will be left behind at the zipline once you’re over the wall.

“And who’s fault is that?”

“Yours. You’re the well-known con-artist.”

Eri leans back, “Oh. Yeah.” He pauses and then sighs, “What if there’s nothing in the palace to take?” He asks. “I mean, it’s been hundreds of years.”

“Then we starve. It’s really not that hard.” Once you have the harness on, Eri helps you strap the case to your lower back, and he checks to make sure that everything is secure on your body.

“This is risky,” He murmurs, “No one knows what caused the vines in the first place, and we won’t be able to contact each other once you’re on the other side of the wall.”

You sigh and turn to Eri, “Look. This is what we were hired to do. Our client is going to pay us a couple of million credits if we get them anything from inside the palace. That’s enough for us to move away, start a new life somewhere.”

Eri sighs once more, “I know, I know.” He takes a step back and holds an empty canvas bag out to you, “Just…be careful. There aren’t many of us left.”

You make a face. He’s not wrong.

Once upon a time, you and Eri were members of a 20-person crew. Men and women who walked on the other side of the law. Thieves, hackers, safe-crackers, forgers, hitmen, assassins—your crew had all of them. The best of the best, professionals who all worked under the same man, your boss.

However, after the government shifted, becoming more militant and less democratic, it became harder for the crew to survive in this country.

Of the 20-person crew…only you and Eri are still alive.

You, a master thief, and Eri, one of the planet’s greatest con-men.

If you get caught breaking into the palace, it’s an automatic death sentence. For you and Eri. Which, really, explains his anxiety.

But at this point, it’s a damned if you do, damned if you don’t situation. If you don’t do this one job, you and Eri will be kicked out of your home and starve to death. If you do this and get caught, you and Eri will be killed by firing squad. 

Your only chance is to do this and hope, against all hope, that no one catches you.

No pressure, right?

You roll your shoulders and shove all of your anxiety into the small box where you shove all of your negative thoughts, and then clap your hands. “Alright. I think I’m about as ready as I’m going to get.”

“Then let’s get to work,” Eri replies with a small grin, excitement washing away his anxiety. 

The building the pair of you are in has been condemned due to water damage. No one lives or works here anymore, as the building isn’t safe.

It’s also the only building that will allow you to get over the walls without running into any of the vines.

Quickly, you follow Eri up the stairs and onto the roof. He leads you over to the zipline that’s connected to an open spot on the palace walls.

You pull your gloves on, grab the hand trolley, and jump up to attach it to the wire. Eri grabs your hips to keep you from going before you’re ready.

“See you on the other side,” He says with a nervous grin.

“Goddess willing,” You agree, “Give me a push.” You feel him tighten his grip, and then he starts running. Eri releases you as soon as he reaches the edge of the roof, and you pull your knees up to go faster.

You have to pull yourself up a little higher as you pass over the wall, and then you drop to the ground next to the palace. You appear to be in the garden…or what was once a garden, perhaps.

It looks like there are spots where flowerbeds once laid, though time, weather, and magic have turned what was, most likely, a beautiful garden, into a desolate waste.

Pity. Flowers would get you a good price on the black market these days.

You strip the harness off and toss it on the ground next to the hand trolley, then you pull the case off your back and slide the seven small vials into one of the pouches on your belt.

Then you pull a map out of another pocket and you scan it thoughtfully. 

If this is the garden, the entrance to the old wine cellar is—

You turn your attention away from the map, looking to the left, and then to the right.

Ah, there it is!

You fold the map and slip it back into your pocket, and then you jog over to where you know the old wine cellar door is located.

As you thought, it’s covered in thick vines.

Ugh, they’re slimy. Gross.

You pull two vials out of a pouch, make sure your goggles are secure over your eyes, and then throw the vials at the vines.

There’s the sound of glass breaking and the familiar woosh of a fire igniting, and you squint at the flames.

They’re spreading slowly. Far too slowly, but slowly an opening appears in the vines, revealing the rotten wine cellar door.

Quickly, before the vines can grow back, and before the fire goes out, you kick the rotten door in and allow yourself to fall into the dark cellar. As soon as you’re down the stairs, the light from the outside fades completely as the vines grow over the opening.

“Right…magic evil vines.” You pull a flashlight out of your pocket and turn it on.

Now that you’re inside, you’re flying blind. There aren’t any maps of the inside of the palace. Done, presumably, to protect the royal family who lived here.

However, logic dictates that anything of value will be located somewhere else. Perhaps in the living quarters?

The wine cellar is filled with wine. You wouldn’t call yourself a wine connoisseur, however, you wouldn’t bet that this wine is worth anything. Even the oldest bottles wouldn’t earn you a single credit.

That’s the thing about magic, it ruins everything.

You sweep the light from the flashlight around the room, and your eyebrows creep up in surprise. It looks like the vines are only on the outside of the palace, as there aren’t any inside.

“Curious.” You say to the empty room, and then you start walking. 

You go up the stairs and find yourself in a hallway that had probably been grand at one point in time. Old tapestries are ripped and moth-eaten, and family portraits look to be crumbling into dust.

Although, one of the pictures looks to be in good shape so you walk over to it and shine your light on the image. And then you tilt your head.

“Huh. That must be the king and his sons.” You murmur, “Weird…the king almost looks like Mister Fett.” In fact, the only real difference is that Mister Fett, your employer, keeps his hair short.

“Trippy.” You say to the painting, and then you move on. You need to find something a little more solid to bring back to Mister Fett. Jewelry, maybe, or perhaps silverware?

You open a door…well, you touch a door and it nearly falls on you, and find a staircase.

“Ooh. Where does this go?” You really need to stop talking to yourself.

You go up the stairs, as high as you can, and find yourself in a pitch-black hallway. Everything inside you is screaming to go back downstairs, that there’s something wrong and evil here, but common sense has never been your superpower, so you steel yourself and step into the dark hallway.

Even with your flashlight on the highest setting, it barely cuts through the dark of the hallway, and you find yourself throwing open the first door you come to, just to get out of the oppressive hallway.

And then you have to clamp your hand over your mouth to muffle your scream. As you fall to the ground in surprise.

There’s a person. A man. He’s stretched out on the bed, still as a corpse.

It’s been hundreds of years. He should be bones…if even that much.

Slowly, you crawl across the half-rotten carpet until you reach the bedside. Now that you’re closer, you can tell that he’s one of the boys from the portrait downstairs. And, now that you're closer, you can see that he’s breathing. 

“Holy shit.” You whisper as you scramble to your feet and place your hands on his chest. You shake him roughly, “Hey! Hey! You need to wake up!”

The man exhales and then stops. 

Panic washes through you, and you scramble to kneel on the bed next to him. You’re not supposed to do CPR on soft surfaces, but you don’t think you could move him if you wanted to, so you fold your hands on his chest and start compressions.

You do the thirty chest compressions, and then lean in to give him two breaths, before you adjust your weight to do more chest compressions.

But before you can start your second round of chest compressions, the man coughs and groans, and his eyes flutter open. He has one brown eye and one grey one, though it quickly becomes clear that his grey eye is a prosthetic of some sort.

“Ah! You’re not dead!” You exclaim cheerfully.

“Not yet,” He replies, his voice raspy, likely from disuse. Slowly he sits up and you topple off of the bed with a pained oof. He watches you, almost impassively, and he arches a single brow, “You…do not work for my family.”

“Uh…no.”

“Who are you?”

You hold up both of your hands, “No one special, really. Who are you?”

He swings his legs off the bed, and then shoots you an odd look, “My name is Wolffe. I’m the Second Prince.”

“Uh…nice to meet you…your highness?”

He chuckles, “Just Wolffe is fine.” There’s silence for a moment, “Why’s it so dark?”

“Oh, that would be the magic vines wrapped around the palace.” You reply, “They’ve been here for…hundreds of years? No one remembers when they first appeared, actually.”

Wolffe stares at you, and you shift uncomfortably, “If these vines are covering the whole palace, how did you get in?”

“Oh, I used…” You pull a vial out, “My employer gave me seven vials. I had to use two to get in.”

“Your employer?”

“Oh, well. I was hired to recover something from inside the palace.”

“What?”

“Anything that I thought would transport well.” You admit with a shrug.

He narrows his eyes at you, “So, you’re a thief.”

“I really prefer the term recovery specialist—” You start, only to squeak when he grabs you by the collar and pulls you so that you’re face to face with him.

“And why should I allow a thief to steal anything that belongs to me.”

“Ah…well…because I saved your life?”

He stares at you hard, and then releases you, “You raise a fair point, I suppose.” Wolffe narrows his eyes at you, “You’re a woman?”

“...how in the name of all that’s holy did you—?”

“I looked down your shirt.”

“...I should have let you die.” You say flatly.

“I didn’t do it intentionally.” Wolffe counters with a roll of his eyes.

“That’s no excu—” You stop midsentence when a shriek, unholy and hair-raising, echoes through the palace. Your head snaps to the hallway, and then, when you hear the sound of metal dragging against leather, your head snaps to Wolffe, who’s now holding a sword. “Where did you get—?”

“You didn’t deal with the creature?” He demands.

“What creature?” You demand right back.

Wolffe grabs you and flings you behind him as the door bursts open and something enters the room.

Even later, you would never be able to describe what this creature looked like. All you would remember is the eyes, the acid, and the claws.

Wolffe tackles you out of the way as the creature lunges at the pair of you, and he half drags you out of the room and into the oppressive hallway. “Stay close.” He orders as he takes your hand and starts running, “How’d you get in?”

“Wine cellar.” You answer, as you sprint after him.

“Too far,” He throws open a door and shoves you into a closet before he joins you and slams the door shut.

“Great, you just trapped us in a closet.” You hiss at him.

He rolls his eyes, expressively, and ushers you to the back wall, where he opens a wall panel and reveals a small lift. “Get it, it’ll carry both of us to the kitchen.”

“Um…” You doubtfully eye the ancient machine, but before you can argue properly, he climbs into the box, and then pulls you in after him, settling you on his lap.

Wolffe shuts the door, and adjusts you slightly, his arms secure around your waist, “The rope in front of you,” He says, his breath hot against your ear, “Grap the one farthest away and pull on it.”

“Uh…right.” Clumsily, you do as he asks, and the small lift starts lowering.

“Well done.” He praises, “Sorry that you’re not going to get anything from inside the palace though.”

You make a face, “Well, it was a long shot anyway.”

There’s a thump as the lift comes to a stop and Wolffe pulls the door open. He glances around for a moment, and then pulls you out of the lift with him, effortlessly manhandling you as if you weigh nothing.

It should be twice as annoying and half as attractive as it is.

“There, the side door.” Wolffe pulls you over to the door and rips the door open onto to come face to the vine, “Fuck.”

“I warned you.” You say as you pull three of the vials out of your pouch, pull him back, and then throw the vials at the vines.

The opening that the fire makes is big enough for both you and Wolffe to escape, and you quickly pull him out of the palace before the vines reclaim the building for their own.

“My zipline is over in the gardens,” You say as the vines snap back into place, “If we’re lucky, we’ll get out and no one will be the wiser that we were here in the first place.”

“And if we’re not lucky?”

“Ah…we die.”

“...lovely.”

“Well, welcome to the future, your highness.”

He laughs quietly, and you flash a small grin at him. Wolffe opens his mouth to say something, only for the inhuman wail from the creature inside the palace to echo across the grounds.

You look up just as a wall explodes outwards and the creature flings itself over the wall and into the city proper.

“I think the creature escaped.”

“Is that our fault?” You ask.

“It would have happened eventually, I think.” Wolffe tries to reassure, “But we need to go. Now.”

“Right. Right! This way,” You take his hand to pull him towards the garden, only for him to pull you back and press a quick kiss to your forehead, “...what was that for?”

He just grins at you, “You saved my life, which makes me your problem now.”

“Wait, that isn’t how it works—”

“It is for me, come on. Let’s get out of here.”

You huff out a sigh, “Fine. But only until I can drop you on someone else.”

Wolffe laughs, “I’m more than capable of wooing you, pretty girl. Just you watch.”

And you can feel your face heat, which Wolffe also notices based on the smug smirk that crosses his face. “Let’s get out of here, Eri’s probably worried sick.” Still, getting wooed by an actual prince might not be terrible.

[sun-stricken]

Don’t have to answer if it’s not your style, but headcannons for overprotective dragon slayers to new demon slayer gray?

Random person: you’re all dragon slayers?

Slayers: yeah, why?

Random person points to gray: why’s he here?

Slayers: he’s adopted

anon you have no idea how much i love you for asking this, ive been waiting for an excuse to do this, i am a SLUT for anyone and anything being overprotective of Gray

i don’t believe in canon or timelines so use ur imagination

i like to think of Gray as person practically everybody ends up really liking, and a total cat magnet.

And dragon slayers r just big cats. So Gray already had close friendships with them

so when they realized ‘holy shit hes like us now’ their protective instincts went in overdrive

Natsu, Wendy, & Sting didnt even try to hide it; constantly trying to make sure hes comfortable and felt safe and didnt sit alone confused and scared by all these new things he has to deal with

Natsu definitely drags him onto impromptu jobs and fishing trips with Happy, in an effort to get away from people, or just so they can spend time together, the reason is unclear

i think dragon slayers as a whole are like violently touch starved, and thats what Sting focused on mostly.

he would drape himself over Gray when he felt like the other needed or wanted it but wouldnt ask

it helped Gray get more comfortable for sure

Wendy, as a healer and friend, tried to give him every piece of advice she knew, offering remedy after remedy to help ease him into his now heightened senses

Gray tried to explain to them once that his abilities are fairly different from theirs, yes he has heightened senses, but his instincts and needs were a hell of a lot different than theirs; that only spurred them on more, making them try to research everywhere they could about demon slayers

Rogue & Gajeel were more subtle with it (not by much tho), they understood when needed it quiet, when he just wanted company without the talk

If Gray was having a hard time, whether or not it was bc of his slayer magic, Rogue would offer up Frosch and sit with him, offering silence or white noise. whatever he needed

Gajeel probably thought he was subtle but he absolutely was not, like asking Gray if he wants to run errands with him when places theyre at get too sensorially intense

he tried to ask Levy about everything she knew abt demon slayers without being too obvious, when she kept sending him knowing glances he just asked (very resigned) for some books on the matter.

there was surprisingly little

But he made do and probably studied every piece of literature there was on the matter

The others probably found out and teased him even tho they did the same thing (they also probs asked him to drop a list of books for them)

Now, Laxus really was subtle

telling Gray to go home when he was visibly pushing himself

talking about his new sound canceling headphones and then conveniently leaving them near Gray

or little compliments abt how his new magic is coming along, quiet support type shit

also staring someone down to get them to shut up if they’re being too much

i feel like they turned from ‘one of our own’ protective to overprotective when they realized ppl werent as accepting of demon slayers as they were with dragon slayers

Most ppl exposure to slayer magic is limited to dragon slayers, who refer to themselves as dragons. so when a demon slayer pops up, the correlation isn’t pretty, and their actions are even worse

While Gray understands people must just scared or confused, so he doesnt blame them; he has a hoard of extremely protective dragons who think differently

Wendy had to be physically restrained by multiple people after she heard people calling Gray a monster

Natsu genuinely considered burning alive someone who refused to pay Gray after he finished up a job

Gray definitely now had scary dog privileges, the dog being every single dragon slayer he knows

Laxus zapping people who so much as look at Gray wrong, or frying whatever electronic (ik its lacrimas but work with me) device they have.

or both

Them all hyping up (in their own ways) Grays physical demon features when they start showing up

Post joint guild party at Sabertooth: some guy talking shit abt how Fairy Tail could allow a demon into their ranks, how he is gonna hurt someone. They are now guildless and only eating through a straw and a face not even a mother could love

Someone at an event giving Gray a backhanded compliment and immediately getting death stares mixed with a violent increase of magic in the air that would make the gods shudder

Remember when i said Grays a cat magnet? its not just the dragon slayers who adore him, its their exceeds too

if u asked them to list their favorite people, Gray is in the top 5 for all of them

im stealing another hc from someone and saying Gray fosters cats, and Happy may or may not of gotten jealous once or twice over the pets and scratches that were supposed to be his

If Rogue loses Frosch and Gray happens to be in town 70% they’re probs together

The incorrect quote u put is so canon in this universe btw

Gray “Honorary Dragon Slayer” Fullbuster

i have so many more but neither of us are prepared yet

[moreespressoformydepresso]

Inspired by a comment @spiralling-thoughts made on one of @persephoneprice’s Sejanus posts!! Her takes are based check them out it’s really thought provoking even if you don’t fully agree

Sejanus goes into the arena to sprinkle breadcrumbs over Marcus’s corpse and wait for one of the tributes to kill him, but Gaul doesn’t send Coriolanus in after him this time. No, she believes that the tributes killing Sejanus in cold blood will be more than proof enough to hammer her theory home. Except none of them do. They know Sejanus is there, and as the sun rises so does the rest of Panem, but none of them do a thing. This boy brought them food after all, even though he wasn’t their mentor, just to try and be nice to them. He was nice to them. After Lamina wakes up and notices him, she asks him what he’s doing there, and he explains the breadcrumbs situation. It sparks a conversation about loss and grieving, and mentally Sejanus snaps out of whatever grief/rage induced haze he’d been in that made him think any of the tributes would kill him just because. These are kids, why did he think they’d be vengeful enough to kill him just for wearing the Academy uniform? Wtf is wrong with him?

They talk some more and end up on the subject of home, at which point Reaper appears early to swap the flag for food (though this time for Dill as well, because she’s still alive) because if Lamina’s talking to Sejanus that means she might be willing to talk to him without killing him instantly. Reaper leaves soon after but does drop some info about the culture in 11. Not much changes on the surface, but a fundamental shift has occurred in the arena. This was an even more unexpected shakeup than going into the games with almost half of the tributes already dead. Now what are they supposed to do? All tributes decide to keep to themselves to see how this unfolds without being part of any possible fallout. This means that the next day or two are… quiet. Very quiet. Occasionally a tribute pops out to collect sponsors, but they disappear again soon after.

The Capitol is shown a different side to the tributes they didn’t get to see before now that there’s someone in the arena who doesn’t have to die. They’re more willing to talk, which leads to some very revealing and heartbreaking conversations as other tributes join in briefly our of curiosity. It quickly becomes clear that all of them are just kids and all they wanna do is go home. Eventually, Treech sneaks over and asks Lamina if he can offer her anything in exchange for one of her older food packets, since Pup sent her new ones already and she was willing to exchange with Reaper. Sejanus asks why he’s not just asking Vipsania for anything, to which Treech responds she hasn’t sent him anything yet and he doesn’t expect her to, since she made it clear all she cares about it winning the prize and she’ll gladly see him starve to get it. Sejanus is properly outraged by this, but Treech shrugs and tells him there’s not much any of them can do, but he appreciates the sentiment. Just then, Vipsania (who does care about Treech now but never got around to showing it) sends over several food packets. Lamina and Treech end up trading something anyway, since they both had something the other liked more.

Lucy Gray and Jessup appear to talk about their mentors and hear about Sejanus’s experience with them, as well as talk about 12 and the Covey. Bobbin and Wovey discuss fancy fabrics, Circ and Teslee ask about the Capitol tech stuff they don’t get to mess around with, Tanner, Coral, and Mizzen show up to talk about their respective districts, the list goes on. There’s an underlying tension, but there’s also a sort of… truce, almost. The Capitol just needs entertainment, so they’ll stretch it out without deaths for as long as possible lest they be that death themself. As the days go on the Capitol starts to be more and more against the idea of watching these kids die. The interviews got them invested in these kids and got them rooting for specific ones, but as they open up to Sejanus without attacking anyone more and more it becomes harder to root for just one. And rooting for one means accepting the other will die, which they don’t want to do.

Eventually, the Capitol decides it’s not worth upsetting their citizens over what their taxes are being wasted on when there’s literally zero payoff and they just get everyone out of the arena and send them home.

[quotesfrommyreading]

In the terrible winter of 1932–33, brigades of Communist Party activists went house to house in the Ukrainian countryside, looking for food. The brigades were from Moscow, Kyiv, and Kharkiv, as well as villages down the road. They dug up gardens, broke open walls, and used long rods to poke up chimneys, searching for hidden grain. They watched for smoke coming from chimneys, because that might mean a family had hidden flour and was baking bread. They led away farm animals and confiscated tomato seedlings. After they left, Ukrainian peasants, deprived of food, ate rats, frogs, and boiled grass. They gnawed on tree bark and leather. Many resorted to cannibalism to stay alive. Some 4 million died of starvation.

At the time, the activists felt no guilt. Soviet propaganda had repeatedly told them that supposedly wealthy peasants, whom they called kulaks, were saboteurs and enemies—rich, stubborn landowners who were preventing the Soviet proletariat from achieving the utopia that its leaders had promised. The kulaks should be swept away, crushed like parasites or flies. Their food should be given to the workers in the cities, who deserved it more than they did. Years later, the Ukrainian-born Soviet defector Viktor Kravchenko wrote about what it was like to be part of one of those brigades. “To spare yourself mental agony you veil unpleasant truths from view by half-closing your eyes—and your mind,” he explained. “You make panicky excuses and shrug off knowledge with words like exaggeration and hysteria.”

He also described how political jargon and euphemisms helped camouflage the reality of what they were doing. His team spoke of the “peasant front” and the “kulak menace,” “village socialism” and “class resistance,” to avoid giving humanity to the people whose food they were stealing. Lev Kopelev, another Soviet writer who as a young man had served in an activist brigade in the countryside (later he spent years in the Gulag), had very similar reflections. He too had found that clichés and ideological language helped him hide what he was doing, even from himself:

I persuaded myself, explained to myself. I mustn’t give in to debilitating pity. We were realizing historical necessity. We were performing our revolutionary duty. We were obtaining grain for the socialist fatherland. For the five-year plan.

There was no need to feel sympathy for the peasants. They did not deserve to exist. Their rural riches would soon be the property of all.

But the kulaks were not rich; they were starving. The countryside was not wealthy; it was a wasteland. This is how Kravchenko described it in his memoirs, written many years later:

Large quantities of implements and machinery, which had once been cared for like so many jewels by their private owners, now lay scattered under the open skies, dirty, rusting and out of repair. Emaciated cows and horses, crusted with manure, wandered through the yard. Chickens, geese and ducks were digging in flocks in the unthreshed grain.

That reality, a reality he had seen with his own eyes, was strong enough to remain in his memory. But at the time he experienced it, he was able to convince himself of the opposite. Vasily Grossman, another Soviet writer, gives these words to a character in his novel Everything Flows:

I’m no longer under a spell, I can see now that the kulaks were human beings. But why was my heart so frozen at the time? When such terrible things were being done, when such suffering was going on all around me? And the truth is that I truly didn’t think of them as human beings. “They’re not human beings, they’re kulak trash”—that’s what I heard again and again, that’s what everyone kept repeating.

  —  Ukraine and the Words That Lead to Mass Murder

[toyybox]

Spiderwebs #41: Magnum Opus

Masterlist

content: lab whump, needles (blood draw), immortal whumpee

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

“I’m certain that, with a few more years of research, I could discover why your body doesn’t kill it off. If I figure that out—“ She didn't finish that thought. “But there’s no guarantee. That’s only if everything goes according to plan.”

“I’m sure it will,” he said.

They were in the laboratory again. He was sitting in her office chair, as he always did, and she brought a folding chair up from the kitchen. There were peaches for breakfast. Jackie mentioned that he wanted to eat them a few days ago. He was surprised that she remembered. It snowed again the night before, and the morning was less sunny than usual. Gray clouds painted the sky instead. He wondered if it would storm.

“I should write a paper about this,” she said suddenly. “I will write a paper. These notes are practically incoherent.”

"You can’t publish it, though, can you?”

“I can’t publish it. It would be nice if I could, but I would also have to explain how I met you.”

Yes, that little detail. “What are you going to name it?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I always get someone else to come up with the titles. I suppose we’ll need to name the organism, too. You should name it.”

“I don't have any ideas."

“Neither do I. We can think of one later. I’ll start writing soon. Though, I do want to ask you a few questions first.” Hence, Heather was holding her journal and a pen. “Have you ever experienced issues with your immune system?”

“No.”

“Do you recall anything abnormal about your birth? Anything at all? Even if it seems small, tell me. We’re grasping at straws here.”

“No, it was normal.” 

She wrote these findings down. “And I assume you never experienced any sort of… I don’t know, rare event? Nothing in your life that could have caused this?”

“Not really.”

“Then I presume it’s an innate condition, ever since you were born.” She set the journal and pen down on a table. “But you can’t be the only person with this organism. The species couldn’t possibly become this far developed in a single host. There must be other immortals out there, somewhere, whether they’re aware of it or not.”

"If you're right about the parasite thing, then I guess it’s possible. Maybe we’ll find someone like that."

“I wouldn’t mind having a larger control group. By the way, I did a complete blood count…” Her tone shifted to an air of professional curiosity, and Jackie recognized that she was about to lecture him about some new discovery she found. “On the blood samples from when you were starving. I noticed average levels of red blood cells and hemoglobin, but the platelet levels were slightly higher than normal. Platelets are there to—“

“Wait, I know this one. They clot blood.”

“Exactly.” She nodded. “They create clotting. But I barely saw any white blood cells. Even in healthy samples, oddly enough. There’s more organisms in your bloodstream instead. They take the job of killing infections, like I told you. I also noticed what seemed to be eggs in your veins.”

“Really? Eggs?” Though Jackie had mostly detached himself from all these biological miracles, he still felt some discomfort at this idea.

“It’s what’s keeping you alive, so I suppose it can’t be helped. There was an excessive number of organisms, actually. They reproduce faster when the host is unhealthy. I believe that’s what gave your blood that dark, viscous quality.”

“There’s really no way to get them out?”

“If you find one, let me know.” Out of the blue, she picked her journal up again, clicked her pen open. “Actually, I wanted to ask—have you ever donated blood before?”

“No.”

“Interesting.” She wrote this down. “Your blood is O positive. I tested it earlier. You could hypothetically transfer it to about seventy percent of the population. The organism doesn’t survive in foreign organic matter, so there’s no adverse effects. It would be worthwhile to test it in a living human body, though. My blood is B negative, unfortunately, so I haven’t been able to try it out.”

“And B negative doesn’t mix with the positive types, right? That’s why you can’t test it?”

“Right.”

He remembered that much from his scarce education, if nothing else. Jackie always felt a little lost when she spoke of such concepts. What a complete blood count was, he had no idea. He didn’t want to ask her and interrupt.

“It’s honestly absurd,” she continued. “It’s such an extreme case of specialization. As far as I’ve seen, at least. I still don’t know how it would react to dehydration…”

“I would rather not,” he interrupted. “If that’s possible.”

“No, it’s alright. I understand if you’re not up for it. I…” She closed the journal, gently. “I feel like these tests are too harsh, sometimes. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable, but…”

"I'm okay. It's for science."

“That’s good to hear.” Her conflicted expression was gone at once. 

And he was okay. He had been allowed everything he could ever want… well, almost everything, with some heavy restrictions, but he could settle for that. There wasn't any reason to rock the boat. It had been a peaceful few weeks, all things considered.

Heather glanced at her watch. "Would you look at that? You've been here for an hour, and you're still alive. It appears that my experiment is going very well."

Jackie was, in fact, currently hooked up to a blood bag in Heather’s laboratory. A needle inserted into his arm drained his blood through a clear, thin tube. The sight of so much of his own blood would have made him nauseous, once, but this rich scarlet was now a familiar color. It was a more sanitary method of bloodshed, at least, and relatively painless. 

So far, he had filled up about nine bags. Jackie was not a scientist, but he was fairly certain that wasn’t a normal amount of blood to extract. The bags were arranged on the table, weighed down by the gravity of all that heavy red liquid, entire pints of it sagging at the seams. Heather set about removing the tenth one.

“How many liters is that, doc?” He asked.

“About five.” She slid the needle out of his arm, before applying a band-aid over the gap left behind. “Most people would have died by now.”

He watched her unhook the bag from its thin steel stand. “What are you going to do with all that blood?”

“It’s too complicated to explain.” She forced a juice box into his hand. “Drink that. Your blood sugar must be through the floor. Are you feeling lightheaded?”

“A little.”

She forced a package of biscuits into his other hand. “Nauseous?”

“No.” He regarded the biscuits with suspicion. “I’m not hungry.”

“Keep it, at least. Eat when you feel up to it.” She placed the tenth blood bag onto the table. “You know, you don’t have much of an appetite lately.”

“I guess.” Hunger was a point of contention. But he was starting to feel thirsty, oddly enough. He stabbed the plastic straw through the juice box. 

“Yes, ever since…” She paused. But she carried on without a second thought, as if she had never mentioned it at all. “I do wonder where all this blood is coming from.”

Now that his arm wasn’t attached to the needle, he could move it freely. He shook his wrist out for a few seconds. “Hey, where’d you learn all this stuff, anyway? Harvard?”

He said it as a joke, but she replied, “Harvard? Don’t insult me like that. I studied somewhere reputable, thank you.” 

“Somewhere reputable.” He wasn’t sure what that would even entail. Nicer jars for their organ collections, maybe. “What did you get? A PhD?”

“Yes, a doctorate. Did you study anywhere?”

“Nowhere, really. I graduated high school, but I didn’t do anything after that. I just started working.” 

He had never seen his education as a priority. When the police took him in... anyway, they had him in and out of the hospital, then sent him to a couple different homes, and that didn't leave any time for him to care about school. He wanted to study language, if he could, but he didn't think that was possible anymore.

Besides, it was expensive. He could barely scrape together the cash for rent. Getting work as a waiter had been incredibly lucky, in hindsight.

“So you didn't receive further education,” she said. “I assumed as much.”

“You assumed right. I’m not that smart.”

“Well, I don’t know about that. I’ve taught you a few things.” She leaned back in her chair. “Natural talent doesn’t count for anything, you know. There’s a brilliant mind born every day that goes to waste. That’s not enough to get you anywhere. It’s about perseverance and discipline, in the end.”

And a lot of money, he thought tartly. That wasn't Heather's fault, though, and she really was good at what she did. He decided to just let her talk. She could be quite talkative, actually, once she got started.

"I can tell you’re irritated,” Heather said.

“I’m not,” he said. “Continue, please.”

“You don’t have to lie. It's obvious. You should know I appreciate your presence. Even if I don’t express it very well.”

“Yeah, you don’t.”

“I don’t. I can be… harsh. But I meant it. I just can’t say it like you do. I’m terrible at that.”

That was true, despite all her other talents.

“You're my crowning jewel,” she said. “My—my magnum opus, even. But you’re also my friend. You’re the only person I care about.” 

“I know that.”

And he couldn’t hold grudges, when she spoke that way. It was all so stilted, so artlessly sincere. For once, the words were slow and careful, purely meant for him. He had already forgotten the rest of their conversation.

She fell silent. It seemed as though she had been distracted by something.

He looked up at her. “What’s wrong?”

“Do you ever want to leave?” she asked.

"Do I have a choice?"

“No.” She searched his expression intently. "You don't."

He stared back with the same intensity. "Then stop asking me stupid questions."

She didn’t move away, and for a moment she was completely still. Her gaze lingered, as dark as night, burning like distant fires. Maybe that was the wrong thing to say. 

It didn’t matter. She knew he wasn’t going anywhere. Perhaps that was for the best. His circumstances had always been difficult, but he used the cards he was given the best he could. He would be happier this way. Playing his role until the bitter end.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Taglist:

@theelvishcowgirl @lthrboy @whumpy-wyrms

@yassifiedinformation @creppersfunpalooza

@vidawhump @dont-look-me-in-the-eye

[cultureosmosisenjoyer]

Okay so I was watching the kh3 post credit scene of the foretellers (as those starved of kh4 news do) and something occurred to me. As we see, the fore foretellers just appear in present without an explanation. We never see them after our player fights them during the war until this point, so we aren’t sure if they survived the war or worlds destruction or whatever else that’ll retroactively happen in 3 games from now. Regardless, they somehow got to the present and are alive.

They’ll definitely give us the rundown for how this happen when we get back to them, but the answer may of already been given to us by union cross. It may also explain why Ava didn’t show up for the foreteller reunion.

M.o.M provided the means for all 5 of them to time travel.

Now as we know, you need three things to M.o.M method of zero consequence time travel.

1. You need to just be a heart.

2. You need a medium at the destination.

3. You need someone with memories at the destination.

Now let’s start backwards because the last one’s the easiest to answer: Luxu know all of them very well, so we have one requirement met.

But what about the medium? We know it as to be something related to the one time traveling in some way. For M.o.M it’s his blade and for Brain it’s pretty much confirmed to be his hat. So what would it be for the foretellers, and something more glaring is that we don’t see any objects in the scene that could be considered a medium for ANY of the foretellers. So if this is the case, what’s going on?

Well the mediums are there, we just never get to see them because every medium of the foretellers in the box. That’s why Luxu was ordered to hide it, so the foretellers would be able to time travel when the time was right. He’s guarding the method to bring his companions back. It would also explain why Luxu was confused when told what was in it, because an item from each foreteller would seem really random to hide for someone who doesn’t know how time travel works.

But with this idea, we hit a snag: Ava. I doubt the master would just leave or robe or mask or whatever item is actually in the box out, so why didn’t she appear? Well we have a few options, the first starting with the first requirement needed: Being just a heart. With the foretellers being offscreen during the finally keyblade war, we have no idea what actually became of them to meet this requirement. Maybe they’re deaths occurred in such a way where the heart outlasted the body, therefore meeting it. However that’s really lame and Luxu implies in someway he has an idea of what happened to her. Not that she died, but that she had the option to be there, but wasn’t. And the idea I presented doesn’t really do that unless we start really speculating. But the keyblade war is important for this discussion, as it does a certain thing that explains why Luxu had to “keep it hidden” instead of just being told to guard the box it: It’s starts a period of time where once Luxu and the box are together, the foretellers are summoned.

(Now at this point, I’ll be running on an assumption of “Xehanorts version of time travel allows for overlapping selves, while M.o.Ms makes it impossible simply because we have not seen it done with M.o.M method at any point k lets move on.)

When the Foretellers meet there unseen 1st requirement of being a bodiless heart, they now can time travel to any time and place that has the memories and the medium in the same place (for Brain we know Sigurd knew of Brain, and he was carrying his hat. Therefore assuming you appear in the area where both are present seems reasonable. For the Master; since he knows way more than we do I wouldn’t be surprised if he knew a way around that unlike Brain), which would be Luxu and the box. So the moment Luxu dug up wherever he put the box after the keyblade war, the foretellers would appear.

Now this still doesn’t explain Ava. Why wasn’t she present? Well, I think I already have an answer to that: She met the requirements at an earlier point in time. Now how is this possible? Did she have another Medium and person with her memories? No and yes. I believe that the box was the medium again, but who would act as the memories if it wasn’t Luxu? Well who’s the only other person we’ve seen with the box after the keyblade war? Brain. And we’ve been explicitly shown in union cross that him and Ava were friends, they’ve known each other for some time. It would give more reason as to why those two were given an established relationship to begin with, so Brain would be the memory requirements for only herself to time travel.

Speaking of Brain, there are dozens of things that cutscene could imply if this is the case. Maybe the darkness that Luxu fought explained how time travel work that it learned from M.o.M, which let Luxu put the pieces together and that’s why he gave Brain the mission of hiding the box: So he wouldn’t accidentally summon the foretellers to a ruined time.

If this was the case, then Ava appears shortly after Brain takes the box, or it’ll happen when Brain digs up the box in missing link (maybe she survived the war and end of union cross, met up with Luxu, he told her how to time travel, did it and appeared during missing link, and all those “Ava is kairis grandma” theories were right all along). Regardless of when, it would tell us why she isn’t in the present with the other four foretellers.

And those are all my thoughts. If what I said is actually in the box then there’s definitely more in it because it would be a pretty underwhelming reveal with just those. Also another idea that popped into mind is that since most of our known examples of who’s considered the memories part of the requirement are people who know successful time traveler’s on a personal level (fairy’s with maleficent, Luxu with M.o.M), it may be that the actual person who counted as the memories for Brain was actually the player character regaining the memories of their past life or when they washed up and not sigurd just knowing Brain was gonna be there, just food for thought.

Anyway thanks for listening to my kh talk, give me kh4 already Nomura.

[rqsser]

clegan vampire au headcanons!?!?

/more specific details

entirely from gale’s pov

gale’s third life would take place during ww2! where he meets john in basic training as it is in mota

“birds always seem to bring them together” was my reference to the b-17! (not rlly a hc just an easter egg)

john wasn’t frightened by gale because he thought that gale was merely a starving man desperate for food like he’d seen before

gale found out that john died in the revolutionary war because he felt the same way he did when his mother died, and then proceeded to barely feed until he was mugged in an alleyway and accidentally stabbed

in gale’s second life, he introduces him as buck after he finds that the man in front of him is named bucky

this is sort of like a red string theory as well, except one party is aware that their souls are tied while the other is clueless

gale learned english for john (10 things i hate about you reversed!?)

gale never returns to boston unless it’s absolutely necessary, but he avoids that park where he met john for the first time, because it’s painful to know that he wasn’t frightened

when trying to explain that he is a vampire, in some lives, john is understanding and accepting, in others he thinks gale is joking, and then in few he leaves gale altogether

gale doesn’t find john in every life. but he tries.

john always seems to die too soon. in gale’s second life, john passed from thyphus fever just months after they were reunited

gale never bothers with changing his name, just claiming that he was named after his ancestors and that he had a “family curse” where his parents were unhealthy and passed when he was young.

each time gale is brought to another life, it takes decades for his soul to reform and his physical body to recover, which is why there’s a 69 year gap between life’s 1 and 2

there’s always a bird around when gale meets john for the first time, so he takes them as a sign of hope and freedom. and he realizes that there’s different types in his third (metal or alive)

sometimes gale travels to france and goes to the town that his father’s house is near, he stares at it from afar. and at night he watches closer to see if there’s any movement, and there was.

john doesn’t understand why gale cries so much when they’re getting intimate or fighting over silly things.

the times when john loves gale regardless of his species, he’ll let gale feed on him sometimes

gale will never turn john

uhhh i love this au… lmk if anyone has questions or requests!!!

[icantbelieve-imadethis]

Game Night

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Author’s note: please be patient with me this is the first thing I’ve written in so long! Let me know if I should do a part two?

Warnings: slight cursing, lead up to something sexual so mdni

I don’t know why I begged so much to come to the session tonight, Eddie was right. I’m bored out of my mind as I sit in the corner, the book I brought with me completely finished. It’s been about two hours and they’re still going.

“No!”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Jesus, I thought he was dead!”

The guys roar as Eddie reveals Vecna is still very much alive and well. “So it was thought my friends, so it was thought.” He smirks at them with a proud tone. He’s been working on this for weeks, I should know, it’s the only thing he’s been doing every time we hung out at his trailer. I can’t be mad about it though, every time he came up with another idea he would run over to me so excited to try to explain it to me.

I never understood what he was saying, but I always smiled and gave feedback on how I thought it was, thinking of it all like a story. I loved his passion for it, especially because he thinks it’s finally gonna be his year to graduate, he wants to leave one of his final sessions with a bang.

But again, it’s been weeks in the making. Weeks of him canceling dates or if we did hang out, just him constantly in his notebook. I was starting to feel, well, needy, touch starved, yearning for more than the casual peck on the lips every time he took a two second break.

I begged to come tonight, despite his protests, because I wanted to see it all finally play out. Every now and again I would listen to everyone’s reactions and decisions and smile but…I got bored. Book long finished, I decided to wander around the room, exploring what’s in here. I graduated last year and yet I never bothered with drama, so I never got to see their storage room that Eddie claimed for Hellfire.

More exclaims come from the table in the middle of the room and I turn to watch again, the players huddled in a small circle discussing a strategy. I walk over to the table and look at all the papers and figures scattered around, seeming like a mess but I know there’s a reason for the chaos. I keep my eyes on the table as I walk around it.

“C’mere,” Eddie whispers as he wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me onto his lap, “what are you doin’, baby?” His soft voice is such a contrast to his showman dungeon master persona.

I can’t hide my smile at him as I snuggle my head into the crook of his neck, “just checking it all out.” I murmur back to him as he tightens his arms around me. I haven’t been this close to him in weeks and I can’t help but to let out a small sigh and adjust myself a little closer.

Eddie’s fingers dig into my waist and I hear a soft groan from him, “stop movin’ sweetheart.” A smirk forms on my face as I adjust myself again, more deliberately. His fingers dig in again but before he could say anything, the players turn back around ready to play again.

No one bats an eye as I sit in Eddie’s lap, used to this when we hang out with all of them.

“Almost done, sweetheart.” Eddie whispers to me before he goes back into his dungeon master persona. One of his arms stays around my waist as the other moves dramatically around with his words.

After a few minutes I get an idea as the game falls back into its on going pace and I’m blended in with Eddie, everyone forgetting I’m here.

I squirm in his lap, appearing to just readjust if anyone at the table saw me. But Eddie knows what I’m doing, his hand that was so animated a minute ago coming down to squeeze my thigh in his attempt to stop me. I move again, pretending to look at Eddie’s notes. His voice immediately low in my ear.

“You better watch yourself, baby,” his voice so low it was almost a growl, “you know what happens if you don’t stop being a brat.” A shiver runs down my spine at the promise of punishment from him. I let out a soft sigh to make it seem like I give up and the game plays on. I move again, this time my eyes just toward the table as the game really picks up. Eddie huffs through his nose, unnoticed by the others but loud and clear to me. I try not to smirk, knowing my plan is working perfectly.

The game comes to an explosive end, the youngest Erica rolling a nat 20 and winning against Vecna. I couldn’t help but to jump and cheer with the rest of them, their faces glowing with victory and Eddie’s showing so much pride in the new Hellfire members. The good feelings over flow as we clean up and all head outside.

As we wave our farewells to the club, Eddie grips my hand and practically drags me to the van, opening the passenger door for me and helps me inside. The smirk plastered on his face as he walked around the front of his van and getting in the driver’s side had me feeling an ache between my thighs. He peeled out of the parking lot as heavy metal blasting, the heavy rhythm matching the speed of my heart in anticipation.

Eddie pulls into an empty parking lot, right by the park we like to smoke at when Wayne’s home.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie begins as he kills the engine and turns to look at me, “don’t think I forgot what you were doing.”

“No clue what you’re talking about, Eds.” I smile sweetly at him, putting on an innocent act as I look at him with my eyes bug and round. His smirk stays plastered on his face, “no clue, huh baby?” Eddie inches closer as he grabs my chin, his thumb stroking my cheek. I shake my head, still maintaining the act.

“Hop in the back,” he lets go of my chin and leans back, leaving the opening for me to crawl into the back of the van, “I think somebody needs a reminder of how to not act like a brat.”

[dark-night-star-light]

Spirit Animals: The Wildcat's Claw (Reread pt. 15)

DISCLAIMER: WILL CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR THE ENTIRE SERIES EXCEPT THE BOOK OF SHANE.

Masterpost

Chapter 1

“There was bloodshed in every village” (2). So, same as the Second Devourer War, then?

“There was no village, no militia, and no army that could prevail against a legion of Greencloaks when they partnered with their spirit animals” (2). Okay, I sort of get the point against having a group be too powerful. But didn’t these people notice the spiral that was on the Greencloaks’ brows and understand what happened? Weren’t they told it wasn’t the fault of the Greencloaks?

“She released Myriam from passive state” (2). I am 99% sure that Myriam was spelled Miriam the last time. 

“ . . . they exuded a sense of accomplishment” (3). What does that even mean?

“It was the first food she’d seen in two days” (4). Why are they starving her? Don’t they want her alive?

“‘Go on, take a bite. Eat it all. Gorge yourself.’ . . . Lenori instead curled her hands into her lap” (4). Why didn’t she eat it? It’s not like the Oathbound were holding it away from her.

“Then the woman struck Lenori again, even harder” (5). Are they allowed to abuse prisoners before a trial has even taken place? How is that legal?

“Then slowly, she ground the food between her fingers, disintegrating it. Her faith may be tested, but she would not falter” (7). How is it a betrayal if you eat a small piece of cheese? Does she want to be constantly hungry?

Chapter 2

“It was an invisible burden he feared he would carry for the rest of his life” (8). Oh, thank goodness the narrative didn’t show him getting over the Wyrm thing immediately.

“‘I could show you guys a real Euran meal,’ he continued. ‘Shepherd's pie and all’” (9). This kind of parallels Hunted, when he went to Trunswick looking for his family.

“Hopefully he wouldn’t start shedding or hacking up hairballs” (10). That would be hilarious.

“Meilin leaned over and thumped Rollan’s ear” (11). I should start collecting Rollan-and-Meilin-act-like-a-married-couple moments. Although I don’t really approve of the physical abuse.

“‘The rumors were that the wildcat was as large as Tellun.’ ‘No, even larger’” (12). I think it’s stupid that they’re undermining the greatness of the Great Beasts. Like, yes, it’s probably just a legend, but still.

“Conor had remembered seeing the replica of this sword, but only once, when he was working as a servant to Worthy” (12). I think it would’ve been cool if they’d shown Conor walking past the replica during the very first chapter of Wild Born.

“Shane, the former leader of the Redcloaks, had died while fighting against the Wyrm. Abeke didn’t speak of him much, but she’d cared greatly for him, even if those feelings were complicated” (13). I think we should hear more of Abeke’s inner monologues about Shane. She surely has some thoughts on him.

“‘I just want the Redcloaks’ help temporarily. Erdas doesn’t need their protection full time. That’s why there are Greencloaks’” (15). He sort of kind of has a point? Kind of?

“Just running his hands through Briggan’s luxurious gray-white fur calmed him” (15). This author appears to favor a lot of descriptive writing.

“Worthy put on a good show, but Conor knew that the whispers and judging looks bothered him” (16). He can’t be a hero if everyone thinks he’s a monster.

“‘I . . . well . . . I kind of don’t know where the records are that will lead us to the Wildcat’s Claw.’ . . . ‘You see, there was a fire at the manor. It was the only way to protect Dawson.’ Worthy shook his head. ‘It’s hard to explain. I was having a really bad day’” (17). He keeps saying that. “Worthy, why did you do [thing]?” “Oh, I was having a bad day.” Also, Devin didn’t even start that fire??? The people did?

“‘The records are there somewhere. I’m sure’” (18). Okay, so Worthy’s logic is that he thinks the library is still intact? Wow, okay. That’s just such a stupid mistake to make. He’s leading them on, and while they have little time left, too. That’s just. Ridiculous.

Chapter 3

“‘I think we can spare a few minutes if you want to see her’” (20). I wonder if Anka truly cares for Meilin on some level.

“‘That is, unless Rollan shares his cloak with us.’ Rollan seemed to blush as he pulled the thick brown cloak tightly around him” (21). Why is he blushing? Also, this is the perfect cue for someone to say “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind sharing with Meilin.”

“‘And we were the heroes of the Second Devourer War. Every gate was already open to us’” (22). Wow, okay. Huh. There really weren’t security measures?

“She cast her eyes at Conor up ahead. ‘I know,’ . . . ‘I’m not accusing him’” (23). Abeke getting defensive about Conor, my beloved. 

“‘It’s important work. Maybe even more important than always looking for a fight’” (24). Meilin character development flexing go brrrrr.

“‘So what will you do next, once this is over?’ . . . ‘Retire your green cloak?’” (24). Convinced that Anka cares about Meilin and is trying to persuade her to join her side. Subtly.

“Both had died in silence, like true Zhongese warriors” (25). Today on I analyze random details too much: Meilin still has some respect for the Emperor. But Song confirmed that the Emperor liked to emulate true warriors even though he wasn’t one (the braid). We also know that the hyena ripped out the Emperor’s throat, so he logically wasn’t physically capable of making noise. So, this could be symbolism for how everyone sees the Emperor as this strong, warriorlike man, even though he’s a fake, I think. 

“Meilin hoped that her face didn’t reveal how shocked she was. She hadn’t told Anka who her father was” (26). You are literally famous. People will find out anyway.

“‘I took up the cloak a few months afterward’” (26). So Anka’s claim also states that she’s new to the Greencloaks. Did she actually join the Greencloaks? Or is she lying?

“‘You’re a hero in Zhong, just like General Teng’” (26). Yeah, exactly.

Chapter 4

“‘Worthy, heroes aren’t supposed to boast,’ Meilin said” (27). Worthy’s pretty much in it for the boasting.

“Worthy only took one bite before spitting out the tough, lean meat . . . which had just meant that there was more for Rollan to eat” (28). I imagined Conor looking all wounded at this, since he caught the snake.

“Her hair was a black as Meilin’s bangs . . . ” (29). Hold on, Meilin has bangs???

“Anka had offered to switch places with him, but he politely declined, turning bright red in the process” (30). Hmmmmm. Also, politely??? Out of character much?

“ . . . he often found himself thinking about things that he’d rather not. His mother. The Wyrm. Shane. Tarik” (31). Shane? Rollan thinks about Shane? This I need to hear . . . 

“It was her hand, sliding into his” (32). I forgot how ship-heavy this arc is.

“A warm loaf of bread would be nice, he thought to himself. He was sure that Essix would enjoy it as well” (32). Would she? She’s a carnivore . . . 

“‘But I don’t know if I’ll ever really trust a Redcloak’” (33). Rollan trust issues arc rolling around again? Also, thank god they’re talking about this. This is the conversation I’m here for.

“‘For all we know, they might be planning to stab us in the back and steal the gifts as soon as we collect them all’” (33). I mentioned in my Heart of the Land review that they never suspect the Redcloaks of setting up the attack on the Citadel. Guess I spoke too soon.

“‘ . . . that still doesn’t erase all the bad things he did when he was plain old Devin Trunswick. Don’t forget, he and I didn’t exactly hit it off the first time we met’” (34). This entire book sort of parallels Hunted, kind of like how The Return parallels Rise and Fall.

“ . . . as long as he got to hold Meilin’s hand for the rest of the walk. That would have made the extra distance worthwhile” (35). Ship fodder galore. They don’t hold back.

“If Rollan could find them again, he’d buy something for the kids when he reached the village” (37). Aw.

“Rollan wasn’t sure, but it looked like the woman had drawn blood” (37). Bruh.

“Rollan shook his fist at the animal. He still didn’t like horses. The feeling was seemingly mutual” (38). That horse literally laid eyes on him for two seconds.

“‘You’re such a softie,’ she said. ‘It’s one of my favorite things about you’” (39). Okay, I don’t know whether this is an unpopular opinion or not, but I don’t like how Rollan’s generosity was used as fodder for shipping culture. 

“Abeke had been collecting rocks to shape into arrowheads during their trek through Eura . . . ” (40). Competent! Abeke!

“Rollan realized that she might have been too good with the weapon” (42). Yeah, lol.

“She followed that up with three backflips. Rollan couldn’t believe it. She was actually dancing” (43). HA.

“‘Or do you not remember the quarterstaff that you swindled from that pirate on the boat?’ ‘I didn’t swindle him’” (44). Rollan berating Meilin for thievery and the sort is so ironic. And why were there pirates???

“‘I was just thinking - that was a really nice sword’” (47). It was indeed.

Chapter 5

“Abeke often found herself looking at Uraza’s hind right leg when she thought the animal was asleep” (49). Imagine Uraza wasn’t asleep and was straight up like, I know what you’re doing.

“‘You move like Uraza, you know. Delicately. Softly. All catlike.’ ‘So do you’” (50). No, he doesn’t??? He makes noise. That was canon. It was mentioned???

“Then she playfully tackled Abeke, nipping at her ears and fingers” (52). I like that this book seems way more of a character and relationship-building book than the other one.

“He performed a triple somersault before landing beside Abeke. She rolled her eyes, but still clapped for him” (53). The guy needs to be coddled. 

“‘Did Shane really talk about me?’” (53). Of course he did.

“‘Shane would let us joke around about the Greencloaks, even letting us say some not-so-nice things about Conor and Rollan. Especially Rollan. But you were always off-limits’” (54). But most of the Redcloaks wouldn’t have fought Conor or Rollan personally or even known much about them, right? How would they have anything to insult them over? Also, what about Meilin?

“There was so little that she knew about Shane once he’d become the leader of the Redcloaks” (54). Yeah, I wish The Book of Shane had gone more into his time as leader of the Redcloaks.

“But as Abeke spoke, she realized she didn’t know if Uraza had forgiven her for shooting her with an arrow” (55). I think Uraza probably feels guilty over this. Like Conor.

Worthy apologizing to Elda is peak redemption arc behavior.

“‘I’m excited about going home’” (57). I wonder if Worthy considered telling Abeke about the fire at this moment.

“He took a deep breath. ‘I don’t exactly know-’” (58). Oop, called it.

Chapter 6

“She closed her eyes and counted as others fired all around them” (61). How is she counting with her eyes closed? Maybe she’s analyzing the direction the arrows came from?

“Conor stopped talking, shifting his body so he was turned away from the others” (62). Wow, Conor’s so bad at lying, his solution is to just. Stop talking.

“They were funneling them a certain way. . . . ” (65). There we go. She got it.

“‘The mighty Briggan, caught in a net. Guess you aren’t such a Great Beast after all’” (67). I feel like the disrespect the Great Beasts get in this arc is just so weird. Briggan has been a legend for centuries. Sacred, especially to Eurans. How could that all have been undone over the Wyrm thing? It’s ridiculous and makes no sense. The trapper should have at least been a little in awe.

“‘But the Greencloaks were under the power of something called the Wyrm-’ ‘Just more Greencloak lies’” (69). I don’t get why the trappers didn’t somehow see the spiral. And some Eurans would’ve been infected, too. That means that they should’ve more intimately understood what happened, right?

“It was a signal. Meilin wasn’t sure, but she thought it meant that Rollan wanted her to play along” (71). Have they never been in such a situation before?

Can’t believe Rollan and Meilin form a plan that involves flirting in front of the trackers.

“It was the falchion, the very sword that Meilin had been drooling over at the trading post” (73). At least she won’t have to pay for it now.

“Meilin knew Jhi could hold her own against the men, but she still worried for her partner” (74). Jhi can hold her own against three men with sharp, pointy things?

“But Jhi and Essix didn’t have time to waste on those men . . . Uraza and Briggan joined the fray . . . ” (75). The Four Fallen fight together again. Iconic. 

Meilin straight up broke a cage with Jhi’s strength???

“Feeling Jhi’s power coursing through her body once again, she leaped into the air and landed a roundhouse kick squarely on one of the trapper’s jaws. Then she spun around, kicking two more to the ground” (77). Yeah, gettem.

“‘What were you saying about this sword?’ she asked, a large smile on her face” (78). This made me smile. Absolutely slaying.

Chapter 7

“‘Also, I just wanted to say, I'm sorry for your loss,’ he added quietly. ‘How many people survived?’” (81). Conor being soft . . . I’m weak. Also, if the trappers truly believe the Greencloaks were responsible for the plundering, then they would see this as a manipulation tactic, right?

“‘I hated disappointing anyone - even Worthy, when I was his servant . . . ’” (82). It doesn’t really seem that way. Like in Wild Born, the only thing that really appears to stop Conor from expressing his annoyance toward Devin was the fact that Devin was a noble.

“The fence he mended for the Widow Tomball for a few coins - which he promptly returned to her after feeling guilty for taking her money” (82). Didn’t he . . . need that money as well? It’s not like he was the epitome of wealth, either.

“Worthy pressed his hands together and fell to his knees” (83). Dramatic Worthy is the best kind of Worthy.

“He really was too nice sometimes” (83). Conor acknowledging his own being too kind???

“‘Everything’s just fine. Nothing strange happened. Nothing burned down or anything like that’” (84). Wow, Worthy might be an even worse liar than Conor. 

“Worthy jumped in the air, waving his fists. ‘Don’t worry guys. Your can depend on me!’” (84). This is almost cartoonish.

“‘Devin!’” (87). Dawson called him Devin?

“ . . . she sat down and began to eat Dawson’s spruce plant” (87). LOL.

“‘Kunaya!’ Abeke said. The cat . . . jumped into Abeke’s outstretched arms” (88). We finally got our iconic Abeke-Kunaya reunion after eleven books.

“‘Devin burned it down the last time he was here.’ . . . ‘ . . . I was having a bad day’” (88). Devin whenever someone asks him about that short story’s events: I was having a bad day, okay???

Also Devin did not burn the castle down??? That was the townspeople??? Karmo literally had to tell him that the manor was on fire.

“‘To be fair, I really did hate Greencloaks at the time. You guys were just so . . . smug. It wasn't fair” (90). Look who’s talking.

“ . . . the citizens chose me as the new Earl of Trunswick” (90). He’s like twelve, though??? There’s seriously nobody else who could’ve done it?

“Dawson was young, but of all the Trunswicks, he was the right person to lead the town” (91). Yes, of all the Trunswicks. Why does it have to be a Trunswick? The best candidate is literally twelve.

“‘With the way father disgraced our family and fled the town, why would they pick any Trunswick to serve as earl? I mean, I’m sure you’ll do the best you can, but you don’t know the first thing about running a city. You’re just a kid’” (91). Worthy hit the nail on the head (and literally in the next paragraph, too . . . ).

“‘You’re a kid, too. You all are. But that doesn’t stop you from doing your duty, does it?’ He relaxed a little as Rumfuss hoofed over to him. ‘And to be honest, I think it has more to do with Rumfuss than my amazing leadership skills. His name carries way more weight than ours right now’” (91). A kid should not be leading the town when there are better-equipped adult candidates around. Worthy became a Redcloak because it was his only choice. The four are on this mission because they were the only ones who escaped. There were no better options for them. There is for Dawson, regardless of his spirit animal. The town could at least have a fill-in until he’s old enough.

“Beside Dawson, the Great Boar snuffled proudly” (91). I feel like this is the ending of Rumfuss’s character arc, in a way. We’re told over the course of the series in so many ways that Rumfuss is often seen as the “least” of the Great Beasts, between Devin’s mockery in Tales of the Fallen Beasts and the Great Beast conference in Tales of the Great Beasts. But now, he finally has the respect he deserves.

“‘Do the townspeople know that I’m a Redcloak?’ There was an air of hope in his voice. ‘Do they know what I did to help save the world?’” (92). Why exactly does Devin want to be a hero so bad? Like, he had a shit ton of wealth and privilege anyway. Why does he feel the need to prove himself? Maybe it’s because the Earl was abusive or something?

“‘I’m not lying!’ Worthy yelled. ‘I really was trying to save a woman! She was in the stocks in the square’” (93). It’s like the boy who cried wolf. I bet Conor would know that story, lol.

“‘Conor, can you ever forgive me for deceiving you like that?’” (94). Dawson didn’t deceive Conor, though? He just . . . delivered a letter? And he was literally ten years old?

Chapter 8

“‘The woman in charge was offering a hefty reward,’ Dawson continued. ‘Enough to feed some families for half a year, if not longer’” (98). How much do we want to bet that Cordelia would not keep that promise.

“‘I mean, Greencloaks and Redcloaks’” (98). Still not over the fact that the Redcloaks literally copied the Greencloaks.

“Everyone knew he’d rather travel with Meilin” (99). Oof. Oooooooof.

“‘Yeah, and if he joins anything, it’ll be the Redcloaks!’ Worthy said” (100). I don’t know why, but Worthy is so comically cartoonish in this book. Also, this implies you can be a Redcloak even if you weren’t a former Bile-bonded Conqueror.

“She leaned over the edge, then curtsied for Abeke” (101). Iconic.

“‘They’d be fools to follow us up here.’ . . . ‘Um, now who exactly are the fools again?’ . . . ‘If it was a bad idea for us, then it’s a horrible idea for them’” (103). Obsessed with this interaction. 

“‘Of course, it was always frowned upon if a woman ever wanted to-’” (103). I like how this series doesn’t overdo it with the feminism. It’s just “oh, this is the way things are” and then they use the female characters to defy those stereotypes. It’s done so well.

“Abeke gasped. ‘Meilin!’ Meilin shrugged. ‘What? I didn’t say kill them. Just shoot them in the shoulder or leg or something so they’ll stop chasing us’” (105). I love how casually morally gray the characters are. Even Conor.

“‘Do you yield?’ Meilin asked. ‘Never,’ one of the men said. Then he passed out” (106). LMFAO.

“The other man had regained consciousness” (106). How??? That would mean he passed out for, like, ten seconds.

“‘Their leader, Cordelia the Kind, said she’d destroy the town if she discovered you were here’” (107). So she said she’d destroy it if they were there, but then offered a reward for their capture, as well?

Chapter 9

“ . . . Rollan knew he couldn’t continue traveling with the cloak and hiding it from his friends” (109). Wait, it was a secret??? What??? But they literally saw him fall off the cliff and saw the cloak save him in Heart of the Land, right? Or was it too dark?

“‘The wildcat’s name is Wilco’” (110). Hey, how come the gila monster didn’t get a name?

“‘They lived a long time ago, back before they were even Greencloaks’” (111). Which makes sense timeline-wise, gotta love that. (The four bond tokens and their owners live and eventually give their tokens to their lands → First Devourer War and creation of Greencloaks → The Greencloaks are given the bond tokens as thanks for ending the First Devourer War.)

It makes me wonder why Amaya is called the New Lands, then, because it’s clearly been around for a long time. 

It has to mean something that Gransfen’s story started because of the Crimson Raiders, who coincidentally share a color with the Redcloaks.

“‘If these gifts are so powerful, why didn’t the Greencloaks keep them and use them to defend Erdas? . . . ’” (113). Yeah. Exactly.

“‘It’s enchanted. Full of old magic. No one enters that place anymore, not even hunters’” (113). Magic??? Magic exists in this world??? Enchantments??? It’s probably just a legend, Worthy.

“‘But then my men found the strangest item in his bedroom, hidden underneath the floorboards’” (115). Why does the militia have a search warrant for the Earl of Trunswick’s house??? Like, he wasn’t even suspicious before then???

“Rollan didn’t miss a beat. ‘Dawson, you’re a Greencloak! You should have told us-’” (115). Exactly what was Rollan trying to achieve here? The militia already know they are Greencloaks. Was he trying to shift the blame onto Dawson and hope he could talk his way out of it??? It seems weird. 

“‘Are these the kids you saw running through the streets?’ ‘Yes, Captain,’ the oldest one said. ‘The two girls. The boy wasn’t with them’” (115). They betrayed them??? (Yes, betray is a strong word, but Meilin and Abeke helped them, and they returned the favor by turning them in.)

“‘Their leader, Cordelia the Kind, threatened to ransack only half the town if we turned you over upon their return’” (116). Bruh.

“‘I’m called Worthy,’ he said. He reached behind his head and unfastened his mask. ‘But before, I was known by another name’” (118). The way this almost perfectly parallels Shane’s reveal is so. I love it. Shane said “I’m called King”, then removed his mask, then revealed that he used to go by another name. Maybe Shane taught the Redcloaks how to dramatically reveal themselves.

“‘We marched to the castle after that and burned it down . . . ’” (118). Yeah, see. Devin didn’t burn it down.

“‘I’m sorry for bringing the cloak with me. I just couldn’t part with it yet’” (119). 

“Meilin raised an eyebrow. ‘About everything?’ Rollan could feel the heat rising to his neck” (119). Why’s he blushing??? What’s there to blush about?

Chapter 10

“”But Meilin reminded herself that the people of Trunswick had much to lose as well if the Greencloaks weren’t successful” (121). True . . . ish.

The iconic Rollan-horse rivalry strikes again.

“ . . . Meilin noticed that the flags flying above the city walls displayed the image of Rumfuss the Boar” (121). Not Briggan?

“”’But this isn’t really my home anymore” (122). Devin Trunswick changing his name to Worthy symbolism for him abandoning Trunswick?

“‘Dawson was right - the old Devin Trunswick was a real bully . . . ’” (122). I like that they don’t make his bad deeds seem lesser now that he’s good.

“Meilin blocked each strike, then leaped onto a tree branch, out of reach of Anka’s staff” (124). She just . . . jumped onto a tree???

“Smirking, she began to run in a circle, dragging her boots heels into the dry ground. She was creating a small dust storm” (125). This is almost the exact same tactic she uses when she fights Anka again later.

“‘I’m glad fate brought us together, Meilin. You’re almost like the sister I never had’” (125). I wonder if she said those exact words to Song.

“‘At least, that’s what my tutors used to tell me when I misbehaved’” (127). That reminds me, what happened to the iconic Rollan-Meilin tutor inside joke?

“‘Knowing the Greencloaks, they could have started the rumor about the forest being enchanted’” (127). Oh, thank goodness it isn’t actually enchanted. Thirteen books in is a little late to introduce new lore.

“‘My kids would love to hear more about your adventures’” (127). Worthy’s hero arc peaks.

“ . . . for the first time on their journey, he wasn’t wearing his mask” (127). Huh.

“Meilin didn’t want to agree with Rollan, but he was right” (128). Will Meilin’s first instinct always be to argue with Rollan?

“They kept moving, walking through lunchtime” (129). Worthy didn’t complain about being hungry: character development?

“Meilin shrugged. ‘We wait. And hope that the tree outlasts the bears’” (133). I’m obsessed with Meilin being the one to suggest waiting. Not that there’s a better option.

Chapter 11

“Worthy only tripped twice. Conor took this as a positive” (135). I love how Conor is haggling (in his head) about Worthy’s clumsiness.

“‘Some rumors say that the black wildcat breathed fire when she was really mad,’ Worthy said. ‘When she hissed and spat, she’d be liable start forest fires. Maybe some of that heat is still around.’ Meilin rolled her eyes. ‘Or more likely, we’re close to a geyser or fault line that keeps that area warm’” (137). The grammar is killing me. Also, gotta love how Worthy loves to exaggerate the wildcat tales. At the end of the day, she was just a normal spirit animal, she was just bonded to a hero.

“Meilin hesitated after removing her pack, almost as if she was going to pull something from it, but left it on the ground with the others” (138). Rollan’s cloak, right?

“With his red cloak billowing behind him, he almost looked like he was flying as he dove into the water” (140). WEEEEEEEEEEE.

“‘Worthy, that was amazing!’ Conor said, kneeling beside his friend. Worthy had a few scratches, but otherwise seemed okay. ‘I can’t believe you did that!’” (141). Awwwww. He called Worthy his friend.

“She pulled out his green cloak” (142). Ha, called it.

Chapter 12

“Worthy had no idea why he leaped off the cliff to save Rollan” (143). Uh, because it was the right thing to do? Because Rollan’s part of the group?

“Prior to joining the Redcloaks, he’d always had trouble making friends” (143). Because he was a bully???

“The gyrfalcon squawked a reply. Rollan nodded” (145). I guess spirit animals and humans don’t have to be able to “speak” to one another to communicate?

“Meilin was the finest warrior he’d ever met. How could someone so ferocious be afraid of spiders?” (146). PTSD. Also, Devin canonically used to be scared of spiders. 

“‘The closest I’ve come is: Each day must end, but the mighty shall rise again under a volcano’s roar.’” (148). Imagine if Worthy was wrong, though. Or only partially correct.

“‘And on the boat . . . Worthy said the wildcat’s roar was as loud as an erupting volcano.’ . . . ‘Volcanoes also spew lava when they erupt,’ Meilin said. ‘Fire. Heat.’” (150). Obsessed with the fact that Meilin figured this out pretty much on her own.

“Gransfen and Wilco had been the protectors of an entire land. He was just a kid in a white mask and red cloak trying to make up for his past mistakes” (152). His redemption arc is almost as good as Shane’s.

“Is this the Great Briggan? And Uraza and Jhi? He looked up at the nook in the ceiling where Essix rested. This is most unexpected” (154). Yeah, following the timeline, when Gransfen died, the Four Fallen would have still been literal Great Beasts. Also, at least this time, we’re getting a solid explanation for why Gransfen is willing to give them the bond token.

“He puffed his chest out and placed his hands on his hips” (154). Worthy trying to look heroic even as he talks to a hero is funny. 

“Bond tokens are powerful, but also deadly when placed into the wrong hands” (155). Okay, at least we get a solid explanation for why the Greencloaks hid them, then.

“There were men who used distrust and division to turn leaders into sheep . . . They would channel rage and anger into weapons of destruction and death” (155). This is shockingly similar to what Kikimi said. She also used “d-words” such as death and distrust.

“Instead, she instructed me to create one of my own. My bond token, like her crystal bear talisman, would amplify Wilco’s powers” (156). This makes me wonder whether bond tokens and talismans are the same thing. The only difference is that talismans can only be used by the Marked and bond tokens can be used by anybody, but what if the Great Beasts used to be bonded to humans even before the First Devourer War? What if that’s how they got talismans in the first place (bond tokens, actually) and then when their human partners died and they became Great Beasts again, they swore to look after their bond tokens for all eternity? This theory doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, but . . . 

“‘The Greencloaks have always been secretive about information they consider dangerous,’ Anka reminded them. ‘Like the source of the bonding Nectar and the location of Stetriol.’ She ran a small finger along her chameleon’s bumpy back. ‘Perhaps that’s why the nations lost their faith in them’” (158). Anka showing signs of being a traitor already. Not that these aren’t valid criticisms.

“‘Maybe that’s why the Great Beasts were so protective of their talismans,’ Rollan said. ‘I would be, too, if I knew someone could come along and smash it, wiping me from existence’” (159). We get a solid explanation for that, finally. Also, it kind of makes sense that the Great Beasts, in all their power, should have a weakness.

“‘But as long as there’s complete trust between you and the animal-’ ‘We should move out’ Meilin said, rising” (160). Meilin being the one to interrupt . . . hm.

Chapter 13

“‘Perhaps I should take the gifts,’ Anka whispered to Conor and Rollan” (162). Wow, I completely forgot about this. She really is suspicious.

“‘Meilin, honesty is a currency that doesn’t have to be spent all in one place,’ Rollan said” (162). Why is this such a Rollan thing to say. Like even without context, it just drips Rollan. I don’t know how to explain it.

“Spirit animals rushed in with them” (163). I feel like this arc completely undermines how rare spirit animals are supposed to be. An army of this size should not all have spirit animals. Besides the Greencloaks, of course. 

“‘No, more like I bit it,’ Worthy said, as he spat out a few yellow-green scales” (164). Worthy bit a snake. A snake. Which he refused to eat at the campsite. Hmmmmm . . . symbolism???

“A woman with a ruby-red sword rushed toward Anka. The woman’s brown braided hair flopped behind her as she ran” (165). Cordelia. Okay, so she’s not going to hurt Anka.

“‘Put down your weapons,’ the woman said, moving her blade closer to Anka’s throat. ‘This battle is over’” (166). Okay, so Anka must have been knocked down on purpose on her part so that Cordelia could fake-threaten her.

Chapter 14

“ . . . she thought she saw the glint of a silver bade right before the red cloak fell over it” (168). Indeed, she did.

“‘I could add you to my collection. Or perhaps I’ll make you my pet’” (168). Cordelia has a collection? Of what?

“‘ . . . I only burned the homes of half those trappers. I’d threatened to destroy all their belongings if they failed me. Again, my kindness has no bounds’” (169). She says, after literally describing a boundary of her kindness. At least she doesn’t actually appear to think she’s genuinely kind.

“It only lasted a moment, but Anka’s eyes flashed to the ground, toward Worthy’s feet” (170). She almost certainly did that on purpose.

“She stopped. Worthy’s red cloak was draped across his arm. He held the Wildcat’s Claw in his other hand” (172). That was actually a neat stunt.

“ . . . fire spewed from the jewel like a geyser turned on its side . . . ” (172). There’s no way the wildcat actually breathed fire. What???

“Abeke picked up Cordelia’s abandoned crossbow. Not as good as a bow, but it would do” (173). Abeke canonically thinks that crossbows are inferior to bows.

“‘I’ll hold them off for as long as I can. Try to buy you some time’” (175). And Worthy becomes a hero.

“This time the entire sword glowed. The steel blade had turned shiny blue. ‘Tell Dawson I was a hero!’” (176). Worthy finally getting his priorities in order. He only cares about what Dawson thinks now, instead of everybody. 

“‘Knowing Worthy, he’s probably already out, hiding in the trees. Just waiting for the perfect opportunity to reveal himself’” (180). She’s not wrong.

“Abeke couldn’t see Anka, but she was sure that she was crying, too” (180). I wouldn’t be so sure.

“‘Kovo, the Great Betrayer’” (181). Well, to be fair, he sort of did make up for that.

This book sort of parallels Hunted. In many ways, but in particular, in both books they don’t actually end up retrieving the item they came for (the Iron Boar, the Wildcat’s Claw). Very interesting.

Also, wow, does this author favor long chapters. The book is only fourteen chapters, but it's just as long as any other book in the series.

Final thoughts and rating:

I love this book. It’s definitely a character and relationship-developing book, as I mentioned, but it never feels like it slows the story down. Despite taking time to show characters’ thoughts on certain things (like Rollan’s thoughts on the Redcloaks and Abeke’s thoughts on Shane), it never sacrifices the plot for that. I like Worthy a lot in this book. His perspective is crucial to his arc and I love how it’s shown that despite his external arrogance and generally dramatic demeanor, he really does acknowledge his mistakes. Abeke’s thoughts on Shane and admitting to herself that it may do her good to talk about it was. I simply melted. When Worthy talked about how Shane taught the Redcloaks to be a team, it really brings Shane’s arc full circle, because it’s shown in many ways that when he was the Devourer, he did not care about his own soldiers at all. Rollan not trusting the Redcloaks works well with his background, and although it feels a bit like we’ve regressed in terms of his arc, it did feel realistic. Worthy sacrificing himself for the team made me soft, he truly became the hero he’d always wanted to be. The parallels to Hunted. I adore them. The way the entire book sort of mirrors Hunted, except now Conor and Worthy are on the same side? I love it. It’s another way Worthy is emphasized to have changed. I also love how Rollan used his wits to find a way to break out of the cage in the trappers scene. We need more of that. I also like how it’s implied that Anka genuinely cares about Meilin and she subtly tries to convince her that the Greencloaks are not good. It’s so genuinely chilling to reread that and see how manipulative what she says really is.

I wish Princess Song had a chapter in this book. I don’t even think she was mentioned. I wish this arc had kept up the trend of having a couple of chapters of Song’s perspective in every book, it would’ve simply been so good. We could’ve seen her spiral and lose her mind while keeping up this pristine image! We could’ve had little Easter eggs that make us feel something is off about her! It would’ve been such amazing foreshadowing! But we didn’t get it. While I like that Worthy sacrificed himself, I don’t like how he sacrificed himself. He chops off a chunk of stone, causing a collapse that falls on him as well as the Oathbound. But that’s so stupid! All he had to do was escape out of the cave and then cut through the walls on the cave to collapse it on just the Oathbound. Then he could’ve escaped through the waterfall with Abeke and the Wildcat’s Claw. Worthy’s sacrifice was necessary to the story, I agree, but holy shit, was the execution the dumbest thing ever. While I understand the parallels to Hunted and losing the bond token, I do wish the token had made it out. I wish the gang had learned to use it, especially Conor. It would’ve been so cool. Because the token is a flashy thing! It can set fire and slice through stone, both of which would leave visible marks that the Oathbound could use to track them! So the bond token would come with disadvantages that would balance the positives and I love that! It would’ve been so cool to explore. 

Rating: 9/10

[sillybillycanadian]

TW: depression, sui ideation, the big sad, etc etc

I hate schoolwork. It’s petty, it’s silly, it’s beneath me, but I am so fed up with it. I am 20 years old and I haven’t graduated high school. There are so many good messages on here about not needing to meet any artificial timetable. That we can do things in our own time. But holy crap guys I’ve been stagnating for so long. I’ve been fighting an uphill battle with this part of high school for three years now.

I started homeschooling halfway through Grade 10. I have self-guided courses that I can do on my own time which still earn me credits to go towards my high school diploma. When I started, I was working at a pace that (if maintained) would have let me graduate a year early. I was masking ADHD, anxiety, and depression so all of that slowly leaked out. I was procrastinating, oversleeping some days then under-sleeping others. I developed an unhealthy habit of eating when I felt bored and like I needed a distraction. Some life things happened like my mom getting cancer (she’s alive and well, but her neutral state of “healthy” will never be the same) and my dad kicking out the three of us (mom, brother, and me) for a while because my dad and brother had a fight.

Those nights were the closest I got to killing myself. We had nothing but the clothes on our backs and some cash we were able to use for a hotel. He did this to his immunocompromised wife during the height of the pandemic. He didn’t care. Even when we were let back in the house (because we threatened to involve the police) he didn’t speak to us for days. I was hardly eating. A family friend talked to all of us over Zoom and referred to my dad’s doings as a “hiccup”. I want to be a forgiving person. I like to think that everyone deserves a second chance. But I can’t say honestly that I’ve forgiven my father. I don’t think I’ve even forgiven the family friend for calling it a “hiccup”. He probably didn’t even know the whole situation, but it stung so bad. And I hugged my father that day. As if it was fine. As if he doesn’t still scare me and I lose the air in my lungs when he stands behind me.

Ever since then my life has been derailed. In the summer of 2020 I started treatment for depression and anxiety. The summer I should have graduated. Some time in 2021 I was diagnosed with ADHD twice because the first person to do it never kept proper records and then left the hospital she was working at. So it was as if my diagnosis never happened. So 6 months after the first time, the second diagnosis finally happened. I’m on medication for it now. I thought it was helping, but I’ve been so useless again for months now and with no changes in meds to explain it. I also might have undiagnosed autism, which really stings because I was neglected when I was younger and the excuse was that my brother needed the attention since he’s autistic. Anyway. I don’t have the energy to shower regularly. I hate needing to make food for myself. I literally have two courses left then I’m done high school for good. 5 basic-ass assignments then it’s over. But instead I watch YouTube and try to make stupid music on my laptop to get a tiny hit of dopamine. I search “help” and sort by latest on Tumblr to see if there is anyone I can comfort or cheer up. Is it actually altruism? Or am I just so starved for attention and validation and companionship that I try to please anyone I can? Do I try to help others because I may as well since I’m the only person I can’t come through for?

With all of this, I have friends who are pressuring me to move out very very quickly. They know how much living at home is making me hurt and ache so I know they’re coming from a good place. But I can hardly take care of my own health and hygiene, how they hell do they expect I can take care of a home and hold a job?

That’s why I don’t just hate schoolwork. I definitely do, but that’s not all of it. I hate schoolwork because it’s a testament to just how stuck I am in life. In this one place. Writing a few sentences to an essay each day if I’m lucky. I hate it. I just hate it so much.

One of those friends. We like each other. So so much. We want a future together. Her and I. But she is one of the ones trying to rush me. I know we both want me to be in a good place before starting a relationship. But she also doesn’t want to be in limbo forever while I work out my issues. So it’s like an ultimatum. At this rate I need to move out in the next month or two or I’m gonna lose her for good, it seems. That’s as far as one of our mutual friends of the group knows. So now I have another point of pressure to get my act together before things crash and burn even more. But it had the opposite effect because I feel lost and stuck and like I can’t do anything.

This is just to vent. Cause idk what else to do than rant and maybe just maybe I’ll stop being a piece of trash. God. I hate myself so much rn. I’m such a stupid worthless prick. Dammit.

[twistedwonderlandsimps]

[That One KHR AU Where Tsuna Kept Dying but Only Those Close To Him Remember His Deaths but It’s Yuu]

I'm just here to mix-and-match different kinds of Yuus with different kinds of personalities to see what monstrosity I can make. That being said,,, whatever this AU is!

Ooooo boy.

If you haven’t read this fic that I’m talking about then be prepared cause I’m linking it here for you to read. It sum good fic. Great and magnifique. Hasn’t been updated since 2019 but it still a masterpiece.

For convenience’s sake, I’ll just refer to this Yuu as Relive!Yuu.

I’m not a creative namer. It might change in the future, it might not, who knows?

So, as the title says, only those who hold affection towards Yuu can remember their deaths. Others just seem to forget they died.

Sure, Yuu’s practically immortal with all the deaths and being revived again thing they do but you have to realize the trauma their deaths give them and their loved ones.

Their life just ain’t it, man.

I would think either Grim or Crowley would be the first to remember Yuu’s death.

Now that I think about it, I’m leaning more towards Grim since I think he’s the one who’s starved for affection and needs friends.

Crowley seems like a deadbeat dad who said he was going out to get some milk but ultimately never came back.

But I mean, this is an AU and the Crowfather trope seems very, very interesting by the minute.

Hmmm….

Anyway, monster cat raccoons need love too, ya know.

We don’t even know of his background, if he has a family or not, but being a monster, although sentient, he doesn’t seem to be seen or respected.

So, just imagine Yuu’s in Ramshackle, Crowley went away to get supper, Grim arrives to get away from the rain.

The ghosts haven’t let the chandelier fall cause, y’know,,, reasons to make this AU work.

Anyway, Yuu lets Grim stay, maybe cover them in their robes or something from the entrance ceremony because the poor thing’s all soaked.

Grim gains this teeny-tiny (cough a lot cough) bit of affection for Yuu cause no one’s been this nice to them before.

People usually just chase him away cause he’s not human.

Makes Yuu their henchhuman.

Yuu just lets them do what they do, the two not noticing the chandelier above them.

The ghosts have misjudged the chandelier’s trajectory and now Yuu got crushed by it.

Grim stares at the human who died in front of him, in shock.

#Just acquired a friend who doesn’t treat me bad and they’re already dead.

The ghosts? Probably remembers it too and has an “oh shit” moment.

Mostly because I think they’re quick to warm up to people, especially to Yuu since they’re going be living in Ramshackle and the ghost are starved for company.

So, yeah, human dead, everyone shocked.

Just then, Crowley arrives with supper.

Everyone looks at him and Crowley’s confused why the ghosts and the monster that cause the fiasco at the entrance ceremony earlier was looking at him with a strange look on their face.

Of course he’s a master ignorer and he expertly ignores the stares like he ignores his responsibilities and he addresses at Yuu that he brought food and asked to know what was happening.

Grim snapped at him and told him that if he was going to joke around then he better stop it or else he’s going to burn them.

But of course, he’s tearing up and all.

He then turns his attention to the ghosts, looking ready to square up when he feels warm, soft hands running through his back.

He looks up to see Yuu, alive, but bloody.

Although there weren’t any injuries on them, the blood on their clothes was proof enough that they weren’t imagining what happened earlier.

Crowley, though, does seem to momentarily notice Yuu’s bloody clothing but it seems as if something’s trying to prevent him from doing so.

“I’m sorry you had to see that. I’ll explain everything later.”

Yuu tells Crowley that there was just a minor prank the ghosts did and the chandelier fell down.

Crowley nods in understanding while Grim wants to yell at him because can’t he see the blood on the ground and on Yuu’s clothes? It’s Yuu’s blood! Why was he acting as if there’s nothing wrong?!

Crowley still makes Yuu a beast tamer or something cause he never seen someone tame a beast, Grim, that fast before.

So anyway, fast forward, Crowley leaves and the ghosts appear.

Of course Grim is still mad at them, hissing and all, but Yuu stops him.

Yuu tells them their condition and says that they aren’t mad at the ghosts.

Besides, it’s no use telling this to people who don’t care about them and won’t even remember that they died. Trust them, they’ve tried.

Grim’s confused by what this means.

Yuu died too many times back in their own world, even at the smallest things, so it’s fine. This was just an honest mistake.

The ghosts of course say that it’s not fine.

Dying like that and not having any mental and emotional trauma? Unreal.

Yuu might think they’re immune to it but as dead people, as ghosts, they know very well that people truly don’t just brush such a huge thing off.

They don’t push anymore when Yuu waves it off again so they just go and help make Yuu and Grim feel at home and make sure no accidents occur anymore.

The ghosts are planning on accident-proofing and death-proofing the whole dorm.

Grim’s still wary of the ghosts and said ghosts are much more careful now.

The atmosphere is somber and tense all through the night.

If Grim refuses to leave Yuu that night and begins crying in his sleep, well, no one’s there to judge him…

Yuu just pulls Grim closer to their chest.

Tomorrow comes…

Yuu and others go to where the statues are to clean it, as you do.

Meets Ace and gets exposition on the statues, as usual.

Everything was going well but of course nothing ever goes peacefully for so long.

Ace starts mocking the both Yuu and Grim.

Grim gets mad, they fight.

And guess what Ace does when Grim sends fire hurtling towards him?

He redirects it.

A smart move to do, yes, but if only he hadn’t redirected it towards Yuu’s direction.

So, trauma 2x for Grim.

Grim sees Yuu dying a second time and he can do nothing to stop it.

Kinda sucky to see your newfound friend die by falling chandelier just the day before and then see them burn alive the next day.

No one’s having a great time.

Yuu lives again but their clothes are all burnt heavily.

Crowley arrives and gives them all detention.

He notices Grim’s subdued mood as he clings to the prefect but waves it off because he’s a professional at that.

Cat monster glaring daggers at Ace who doesn’t seem to have seen or react to Yuu dying.

He blames him for Yuu’s death but he also knows he’s partially at fault.

After all, it was his fire that hurt Yuu.

Realizes what Yuu meant yesterday.

People who don’t care about Yuu would just act as if Yuu was alive and not burning to their death in front of them.

He buries themselves deeper in their arms.

How many times have this happened to Yuu before? To watch the people around them just… not see them get hurt?

How many times have they tried to explain it to others, only to be brushed off?

Crowley also notices Yuu’s burnt clothes and assumes that their poor clothes were just caught in the crossfire of the fight so he uses magic or something to fix it.

Ace stalks off, grumpy and not planning to help with cleaning the windows.

So timeskip cause the things happen as usual in the story.

Chandelier falling event 2.0

But at least this time Grim’s spatially aware and alert and he pushes Yuu out the way just in time.

“Stop standing below chandeliers, idiot henchuman!”

Really, stop. They have a death wish or sumthin’?

So with the threat of being expelled because the magic stone on the chandelier broke, the group heads over to the Dwarf’s Mine.

Guess who dies again?? Your choices are Yuu, Yuu, and Yuu.

Yeah, it’s sad.

What’s even sadder is that Deuce and Ace remembered Yuu’s death this time round.

Yikes.

Yuu saved them by pushing them away from the Dwarf Mine’s monster’s range of attack.

Now the guilt of being the cause of Yuu’s death is with them.

Yeah, safe to say no one was happy with the events.

They somehow defeat the overblot, get the magic stones, and go back to school at Yuu’s gentle urging.

As if they hadn’t died just now.

Crowley may be blind to his responsibilities and duties but he isn’t blind to the group’s gloomy and pale disposition when they come back.

And Deuce, and Ace keep shooting glances at Yuu’s direction.

Grim’s burying himself against Yuu’s neck, silent.

Ace and Deuce tried to tell Crowley what happened to Yuu but, just as Yuu and Grim had said earlier, he didn’t seem to be able to hear them as if something was preventing him from listening.

Crowley finds the atmosphere weird but he makes Yuu into the dorm leader of Ramshackle and makes both Grim and Yuu official students.

This makes Grim’s ears flicker when he hears it and he perks up, turning to look at Yuu.

“You’ll see, Yuu! I’ll—I’ll become the greatest magician of all! So strong that no one can ever hurt us! I’ll protect you cause you’re a weak human, so, so… you have to keep living on…!”

At least, even just for this moment, everything’s fine…

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Hello, hope you’re well! Do you have any headcanons of Yujiro Hanma in a relationship with his S/O?

Yujiro was pretty damn hot when he was a young Rambo, huh?

Remember how miss Obnoxious Diane managed to piss Yujiro off enough to humiliate her?

Well, you met him around the same time, but under weirder circumstances.

You were hiding in a cave and cooking a porridge with whatever ingredients you managed to poach around, until someone intruded your small, temporary home - It was a very buff and intimidating-looking red head man who looked to be around your age, yet somehow, his features seemed more mature than most 16 year olds you knew.

The two of you shared eye-contact for quite a few seconds from the shock, neither of you expecting to find another human being in such a place.

Before he could open his mouth and properly intrude in your home, you just scuttled over and told him to sit down and eat together.

Cue his shock --- WHY?

Rations were scarce, and he ate like a freaking animal, not to mention, he’s a complete stranger, heck, he might be an enemy for all you knew, yet you treated him with such polite nonchalance that he can’t quite figure out himself what’s going on.

You just handed him a spoon and told him to dig in, and even warned him about it being hot... And that it wasn’t much for him, but it’s all you got.

Are you dumb? You must be, otherwise, why the hell would you starve yourself to aid another??

Those insults found themselves being spoken out loud as well, but you merely shrugged and agreed, as if it wasn’t anything fantastic.

“Yeah, I know. My mum always scolded me for being the stupid Good Samaritan. It’s not like I believe in altruism or anything, but I don’t think you’re that bad of a guy and I’d rather be your friend than enemy. Look at you, you could look at me the wrong way and I’d drop dead in a second.”

Not wrong. Not only you, but everyone else alive was so petite and frail compared to him, he could damage your skull with a mere flick of his fingers and he’d just laugh at how weak you are.

At the same time, he did find this kindness of yours to be rather smart, now that you explained, yet at the same time, he also enjoys how unbothered you are by everything.

You don’t seem the least bit afraid of him on the outside, yet he can feel your heart beating faster and your eyes were sharper - You were more on the edge, cautious of all his moves, whilst also trying to be subtle.

When he asked why you were hiding in a cave, you told him your brother was captured by the enemy and you were trying to infiltrate the headquarter estate and rescue him - It amused him - Someone weak and untrained in combat, sporting a mere sword, not even a gun, infiltrating that heavily-guarded estate and even trying to rescue a war prisoner.

Never mind, Yujiro was pretty intrigued by your strong resolve and told you to stick around him and make sure you don’t die, ‘cause he won’t protect you.

JK, he completely protected you without even realising when a bunch of soldiers with machine guns started firing your way. They were all dead within mere seconds.

He turned his head to look at you, and you didn’t seem to care about the gruesome deaths of your enemies - In fact, you simply raided their bodies so now you had better weapons and ammo.

Smart cookie.

He absolutely hated women who freak out over stupid things like murder.

“Say, Yuji, why are you here anyway? Do you have any goal for fighting in this war?” you asked all of a sudden during one night as you stood by the fire, waiting for the food to be cooked.

“Just having fun. And what better way of having fun than training to become the strongest creature on Earth, ey?” he gave off a twisted smirk, wishing to scare you off, but you merely grunted in understanding and nodded.

“Well, if anyone can do it, I’m sure it’s you. You’re like those guys in hero comics that train so hard that it looks like they have superpowers, but in fact, they’re just that cool. Hey, I bet you could kidnap the president if you want. That’d be hilarious.” you chuckled lightly in such a crystalline voice that it sort of impressed him.

“You’re giving me awful ideas, Y/N. I love it.” his grin widened so much that it seemed to split his face in two.

From then on, until you found your way infiltrating into the estate, he made sure to protect you in all the subtle ways - He was a man, he was a fighter, not a protector - But even so, he didn’t want his little companion to die so quickly, the war would be so much boring without you.

Hell, he even ended up carrying you bridal style here and there under the pretext that you were just too frail, slow and completely inapt to be doing such missions by yourself, so he so kindly offered you his aid, you should rejoice!

It was going pretty well for the two of you, until this blonde chick Jane appeared in the picture and it seemed to ruin the mood for the both of you with her way too straightforward, brash and rude flirting and invitation to being more intimate than acceptable.

Not wanting to bother with this exchange of words between the blonde and a pissed off Yujiro, you simply started walking away with your hands in the large pockets of the pants you stole from a soldier - That is, unless you heard some growls and yelps from behind and you noticed the red haired Rambo man punching the blonde away from him, stomping towards you.

You couldn’t help but let out a breath of amusement, but didn’t utter a single word, not wanting to bother him more than he already was.

“Say, Yuji... Don’t you think Jane was being a bit suspicious?” you asked, all of a sudden, this time staying at the food of a tree, looking up at the starry sky.

“Are you jealous, Y/N?” the smirked mockingly, leaning forwards, very close to your face.

“I think jealousy is an emotion for weak and insecure people. Do you want me to be jealous, Yuji?” you tilt your head to the side, jaw propped on your palm, looking at him with sort of sleepy, hooded eyes.

“What innocent thinking, if not, rather foolish." he sneered tauntingly at her. "Also, I don't quite remember allowing you to use such a familial nickname with me. I'm not your friend."

You could only blink, wide-eyed and slightly embarrassed, not having realised how you abbreviated his name, and you could only sheepishly chuckle and scratch the back of your head "Ahh, sorry, sorry, I didn't realise I was calling you that. You're right, we're not friends, and when this is over, we'll never see each other again."

Ouch.

The sensation of a palm being slapped harshly over his face was felt as your words echoed in his head over and over again.

Not see each other again, you said...

That's inadmissible. Yujiro no likey. Nuh-uh. That won't do.

"I don't tolerate such bullshit being spoken around me. You're lucky I didn't kill you yet." he huffed, scowling at her.

"Sorry, sorry." despite threatening you, somehow, you picked up on his light-hearted predisposition and merely smiled at him as if you had no care in the world. "The sky is very pretty tonight, don't you think, Yuji?"

"Why the hell are you still using that nickname?!" he snapped at you, only to see you laugh.

"You told me you don't remember allowing me to use it. I never said that I cared what you think you can allow me or not. If you're not my mother, you have no right in dictating my rights." she didn't even bother looking at his frowning visage - She just looked up at the sky with a serene look.

"You insolent woman --" he grabbed your face roughly, only to widen his eyes at the doe-like look on your face - So carefree and passive, so untouched by the world and unbothered by everything surrounding you - As if for you, Yujiro Hanma was just another simple man, unthreatening and without the littlest speck of fright or intimidation around him.

He couldn't help but tsk and let go of you, turning to the side to go to sleep, without even saying good night.

But you did. And he answered with a dismissive huff.

However, when you woke up, you were covered in his jacket while he was stretching and working out shirtless, getting ready for the infiltration mission.

"Moornin'~!" you waved lazily to him, your hair a mess and eyes still closed due to your sleepiness.

"It's late. Better thank me for not waking you up sooner, you slob." he sneered, not bothering to stop his routine.

"Thanks, Yuji! I slept really well. It was really warm last night, thanks for the jacket. I hope it wasn't too cold for you." you replied, getting up and carefully folding the jacket, ready to hand it back to him.

Little did you know the reason for you being warm wasn't that paper-thin jacket, but the Hanma natural high body temperature as he held you through the night after seeing you shiver to hell in your sleep.

You cuddled into his chest, your head underneath his chin, resembling a baby kitten hidden inside a warm cardigan, he couldn't help but stroke your hair the whole night, while pondering about the mission of the next day.

"Keep it, I don't need weakling germs to be crawling all over me." was his way of saying "Keep it and keep yourself warm, you frail snowdrop of a woman."

The infiltration mission went really well - More or less - And you met up at the main room, only for the blonde woman to appear out of nowhere, for the second time, yet now, she was carrying a huge barrel of T.N.T and other explosive stuff, but Yujiro seemed to narrow his eyes suspiciously at her.

She opened a secret passage by taking out some rather specific books - No matter how you looked at it, things just couldn't stop being fishy - And the red haired man caught a glimpse at the worried frown of his little companion.

It was the first time she expressed any kind of emotion other than unbothered passiveness - She really didn't like Jane, and rightfully so. She smelt her lies so easily, what a great intuition.

"Miss Jane, do you know anything about B/N, a war prisoner? He looks like me, just with shorter hair and a bit taller." he heard the girl speak in a rather unsettled voice, her E/C eyes peering into Jane's blue ones as if she was piercing them.

"Oh, that guy? They're preparing to execute him outside." the blonde spoke so nonchalantly as she stepped to cling on Yujiro's arm, dragging him towards the secret passage, while you could only grit your teeth in anger and concern, sprinting towards the window, looking down to confirm for yourself.

"B/N...!" you gasped, seeing your poor brother being blindfolded, on his knees, with a machine gun to his temple, unaware of the other two.

"Y/N. Let's go." you heard your name being spoken by the man, but you could only gulp, looking at him with a nervous expression. "You can't save him by looking at him from up here, can you? Move, before this place explodes."

No need to be told a second time, you merely nod and sprint his way, as fast as you could, only to get half-way through the tunnel and to have your wrist suddenly grasped mid-way through your running, almost falling but being pulled into Yujiro's chest.

"What are you doing?! You'll get killed if you stay here!" Jane yelled at him aggressively, but he only glared at her, pulling you closer to him chest, his arms protectively around you.

"Yuji...?" you asked in a soft voice, questioning him, only for him to keep you grounded and safe in his arms during the explosion, not daring to let out a single squeak, knowing you'd be safe with this superhuman of a man, while with the other arm, he grasped Jane's wrist, keeping her from being blown away -... Yet, in a way, their eardrums were blown away by her annoying screaming.

As soon as the explosion passed, the grip on you tightened slightly, while with his other hand, he roughly bitch-slapped Jane into a wall. "Listen to you, you scream like any woman who has reached the limit of her power. You have courage in trying to act like a soldier, but you are still only a woman." with this, he let go of you as he menacingly walked towards the blonde who was unable to unglue herself from the wall out of fear.

"Why? Why did you hit me?" she asked in disbelief.

"Jane, or should I say, Diane Neil? I've known for a while the United Nations has great fears about my combat strength, because my powers will soon reach those of a nation's army. This tunnel was built in secret many years ago by the United Nations. How did you come to know about it?" hearing that, Jane grabbed the knife from the back of her pants and tried to attack Yujiro, who merely grabbed her wrist, breaking it, making her drop her weapon before pushing her into the wall again. "Being a UN worker was just too much or you. I told you, I will protect myself no matter what the cost." he was angry - Boy, was he so angry that he radiated so much darkness - But you didn't care. You almost died because of her, and you knew she was suspicious from the get go anyway.

"Y/N. Get out of here. What I'm about to do should not be seen by such a baby like you. Sneak out of here and get behind them. This tunnel will lead right in front of them. It will create enough of a diversion to rescue your brother. Understood?" he snapped his head towards you, peering into your very soul as he strangled the woman below him.

"Got it." nodding firmly at him, you ran back the way you came and did just as you were told, not caring, nor wanting to know what he was going to do to her - All your thoughts were on rescuing your brother and running away.

You successfully managed to hide in the bushes, as everyone was much too tense and staring at the door in front of them, until it was kicked open and before the soldiers could shoot him, he threw the fainted body of Diane at them then leapt like a jaguar, killing them so easily - You wanted to sit there and admire, but you used the last ammo from the machine gun you had to kill the soldiers surrounding your brother, then sprinted to get him out of there.

Much to your surprise, however, as Yujiro was busy with the representative or whoever that was, Diane got your brother in a choke hold, her gun at his temple, and you couldn't help but freeze on the spot.

"What the hell is wrong with you, woman?! You're following around a demon... A monster... A rapist... As if you worship the ground he walks on?! For what?! Are you delusional?! He's a criminal, you idiot!" she was sweating and trembling like a leaf, and the grip on the pistol was weak, but you couldn't act, fearing risking your brother's life.

"B/N... Remember the thief game?" you muttered at him, watching him bite his lip and grunt in approval. "Three thieves. That's all I need." was your secret code so he'd know to advert her pistol away in 3 seconds.

And he did, allowing you the chance to jump on her, trying to struggle the gun away from her hand, but in the commotion, as she screamed in shock, she pulled the trigger in the unfortunate direction of your brother's heart, making him fall to the ground.

"What... Did you just do...?" you could only stare in disbelief at the pool of blood forming around the corpse of your poor brother. "What did you do? WHAT DID YOU JUST DO?!" you couldn't believe your eyes - Your only family, the person you loved so much, was rendered nothing but a piece of dead meat on the ground because of the aimless, scared aim of a stupid woman.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to- I... My grip slipped and --" it was obvious Diane didn't mean to kill an innocent person, but apologies weren't going to bring your brother to life, right?

You could only see red from the anger, feeling genuine, dark emotions for the first time since the tragedy happened, that you couldn't help but climb on her abdomen and punch away at her face, shaking her roughly and just actively trying to kill her with your bare hands, all while your vision was blurred from wrath and sorrow in the form of tears.

You had no idea how long you stood there like that, covered in Diane's blood, deaf to her screams of desperation, blind to the world and unbothered by the pain surging through your arms, until you felt yourself being effortlessly picked up and away from what was now the lifeless body of the blonde fraud.

"That's enough, Y/N. She's dead. There's no more revenge you can inflict on that useless trash." it was Yujiro's time to speak in a passive, low yet comforting voice as his chest was glued flush to your back, stopping you from struggling so much.

"He's dead, Yujiro, he's dead! What the hell am I supposed to do now?! I failed to protect the last person remaining of my family and now I'm all alone in the world. I... I don't have a clue what I'm supposed to do now. I have nowhere to go and I'm very pissed off." from all the struggling, the last bit of strength and energy finally left you and you remained lax in his arms as he held you like that effortlessly.

"You lost a purpose, find another. You're a woman, you're not strong, nobody is expecting you to save the world. That's what men are for. Let yourself live and find something to live for. Your brother may have been weak, but he tried to protect his sister until the end, and he wouldn't want you to mourn." you never expected such words to come from this savage Rambo-like man, but somehow, it made you smile through your tears and you find yourself nodding and stealing one last glance at the lifeless body of your brother.

"Sage words, Yuji. Very wise. I'm impressed and surprised." you muttered, slipping out of his grasp. "Any ideas on what to do, then?" you asked, looking around for a tool to burn his body.

"When I'm done with this war, I'll be going back home, in Japan." he spoke, taking out a lighter from his pocket and lit the body up. "Come with me."

"Bold proposition for someone you've just met." you let out a snort of amusement, beginning to walk by his side. "You may end up regretting it. I can be a real pain, you know?" you smirked up at him with a carefree expression on your face, despite how pink your eyes were, or that your skin was still glimmering with tears.

"I'm regretting it already." he muttered, hitting the back of your head playfully, but catching you quickly, realising your were much frailer than imagined.

"Your kindness towards me has been received, we thank you for your donation, here is your receipt. We are sorry, your emotions cannot be returned back, the receiver will be keeping them forever. Please, do consider making another donation soon!" you laughed so cutely that he couldn't help but groan in annoyance and wipe away the stray tears from your face.

"I'll kill you."

[ginwalt]

uhh could I request a wanda x reader doing something really reckless (like stealing the car for a 3 am drive) and Carol and Nat (who are like their mother figures - and also are in a relationship) scolding them for it!!

ps: I don't know if scolding is even a word but I guess you know what I mean hahahah

a/n: I am absolutely in love with this prompt and I had a lot of fun writing it :) hope you enjoy!

Warnings: none just some cursing and some underage drinking.

Word Count: 2,680

--

It was around 3:30 in the morning when you felt someone nudge your shoulder. Groaning, you pulled your blanket further over your head.

"Leave me alone," you grumbled under your breath.

It was only when a strand of red magic surrounded the edge of the blanket and jerked it off your body, did you awaken. You gasped at the sudden assault of cold air and shot up. Wanda stood over you in a Black Sabbath hoodie and ripped jeans with a far too pleased smirk on her face.

"What the hell, Wanda?" You hissed, rubbing your bleary eyes.

"Put some clothes on; I want to show you something."

"The sun isn't rising for another 2 hours, Wan. I want to go back to bed," you complained, grasping for the blanket once more.

Wanda pulled the blanket fully off your shared bed and looked at you pleadingly, "Come on, please? I promise it will be worth it," her eyes were wide as she looked at you hopefully. At this time of night- or morning, you supposed - her accent was thicker than it would be during the day. You cursed your weak resolve and slunk out of bed.

"Fine, but I'm stealing one of your hoodies," you grumbled.

She chuckled, "You are already hoarding at least half of them," she pointed out as you stepped out of your pajama pants. You rolled your eyes playfully and pulled on black yoga pants and an Iron Maiden sweatshirt you had been keeping on your side of the closet for at least a month now. Wanda gasped and slapped your arm lightly, "I have been looking for that everywhere, Y/n. I thought I lost it!"

"Your hoodies are comfier," you reasoned with a shrug. "Anyways, how are we supposed to get past mother hen one and two?" You gestured towards the direction of Natasha and Carol's room.

Wanda pondered this for a moment, "Just be fast and quiet, you go out and wait in the car, and I will grab the drinks."

You raised an eyebrow, "Natasha's a world-class assassin, and Carol wakes up whenever Nat does; this won't work. Also, we're going to drink at 3 in the morning?"

Wanda huffed, "It will be fine. You worry too much, Y/n. Plus, when have we ever drank irresponsibly?"

Narrowing your eyes, you stuffed your hands in your pockets, "Do you really want me to answer that."

Wanda pushed you towards the door, "Go outside and wait in the car." You snickered and carefully opened the bedroom door, wincing when the hinges squealed slightly. It wasn't a matter of not being caught as much as it was a matter of being long gone before Natasha and Carol decided to go after them. Regardless of how sneaky they thought they were being, Natasha- if not both her and Carol - was bound to hear them. Ever so carefully, you wedged the front door open and slipped through it.

You had moved in with Carol, Nat, and Wanda a year into your relationship with her. Having graduated college with a nearly nonexistent relationship with your parents, you needed a place to live. Your girlfriend and the women who practically made sure you didn't starve throughout college seemed like the most reasonable choice. You had met Wanda on campus, and it had taken three weeks of being her friend until you realized she was an Avenger. Shortly after that, Wanda introduced you to the rest of her team. At first, your only interaction with the married couple was them giving you the "shovel talk" when Wanda first introduced you as her girlfriend. However, after working with them as a hacker for SHIELD, they quickly took you under their wing as well.

Smiling slightly at the memory, you opened the passenger door to Natasha's black Corvette Stingray. It took all of three minutes for Wanda to come running out the door, a bottle of apple cinnamon whiskey in hand. She threw the door open and shoved the bottle into your hand before pushing the key into the ignition and gunning it down the street. Your eyes bugged as your fumbled to get your seatbelt fastened. You clutched at your chest as the two of you went 45 in a neighborhood.

"Wanda, what the fuck!" you yelped, gripping the neck of the whiskey bottle tightly.

"I'm sorry, I heard their door open, and I panicked!" She cried, grasping blindly for her seatbelt. The two of you slowed down slightly as you gained distance from the house.

"They're totally going to notice the whiskey's gone, Wan. We're both 19; we can't legally drink yet!"

"Relax, Y/n they won't notice one drink is missing out of a whole cabinet filled with alcohol," Wanda reasoned, turning onto a gravel road.

You raised an eyebrow at your girlfriend, "How many times do I have to point out that Nat is the world's top assassin and Carol was trained by both the US military and the Kree?"

"I promise it will be worth it," Wanda insisted, grabbing your hand from across the middle console. You sighed and leaned down to kiss the top of her hand.

"You're lucky I love you."

Wanda grinned and shot a wink at you, "I know." With that, she pulled off the dirt road and into the middle of a grassy clearing. You unbuckled your seatbelt and reached down to grab the whiskey, which had rolled under the seat during your escape out of the neighborhood. Wanda stepped out of the car and went around the back to grab a large black and red checkered blanket. You followed her as she smoothed out the blanket atop the grass and pointed up at the sky. A small gasp escaped your lips as you saw streaks of light blaze across the sky.

"I didn't know there was going to be a meteor shower tonight," you whispered, eyes never leaving the sky. Wanda grinned and unscrewed the bottle. She took a hearty drink from it and passed it over to you.

"I was hoping to surprise you," she explained, laying down on the blanket.

You followed suit and took a large drink of your own. "Why did we need alcohol for this, exactly?"

The corner of Wanda's lips quirked upward as she turned her head to look at you. "Make it a bit more...colorful, I suppose. I considered whether edibles would be better, but Nat and Carol would definitely skin us alive when they found out about that."

You giggled; the apple cinnamon whiskey had settled in your stomach, warming your body against the early morning breeze. Your head felt fuzzier as you leaned over to place a kiss on Wanda's cheek. "This is perfect, Wan. Thank you." Wanda placed a cinnamon-flavored kiss on the corner of your mouth. "How much do you want to bet Wanda and Carol are waiting by the door for us right now?"

Your girlfriend let out a drunken laugh and set the now half-empty bottle aside. "10 dollars that they left the house to find us."

"You're on." The two of you dissolved into hysterical giggles that lasted so long your stomach started to cramp. The blazes of white-hot light lit up the sky as your vision turned blissfully hazy. Clumsily, you crawled towards Wanda and placed your head atop her stomach. "Mmm, you're warm," you hummed, a goofy smile cracking through your lips. The witch placed her hands against the side of your head and started stroking them through the locks of your hair.

Just as your eyes started to slip shut at the attention, your felt her hands halt. "Y/n?" You let out a quiet 'mhm' in response. "How're we gonna get home?" Her voice was slurred and thick with her Sokovian accent.

Your eyes snapped open, and you shot up. "Shit, we can walk, maybe?" Wanda gave you a blank look in response as she gestured to the expanse of nothingness around you. You sighed, "We have to call Carol and Nat."

Wanda groaned and covered her face with her hands. Her chipped black nails scrubbed at her eyes and cheeks, leaving red lines all over her face. "Do we have to?"

"Well, we can't drive Wanda, and by the time we're sober enough, it'll be nearly 7:30!"

"They're going to kill us," she complained, burying her face in her hoodie. "Just get it over with."

You fished your phone from your pant pocket and hesitantly pressed Natasha's contact. The phone barely got through with its first ring before the older woman picked up.

"Where the hell did you two go?" her raspy voice was nearly brimming with anger. You almost dropped your phone at the venom lacing her words.

" 'M sorry, 'Tasha," you winced at the heavy slur in your words before continuing. "We thought it'd be fun."

You heard someone grab the phone, "Are you two drunk?" Carol demanded.

"No..." you trailed off pathetically. Wanda glared at you and lightly kicked your foot.

"Y/n try to say Natasha's full name, right now," you straightened slightly at Carol's military voice.

"N'tasha 'Manoff," your tongue felt too big for your mouth as you attempted to form the words. "...Okay, maybe a little bit."

"Where are you? We're coming to get you," Nat insisted. You heard footsteps from the other end of the line and someone pulling the hallway closet open.

"Wan, where are we?" you asked, glancing around the fields of overgrown grass and wheat.

Wanda winced and bit the tip of her finger, "Uhhh.."

"You don't know?" Natasha and Carol shouted. Wanda pursed her lips and looked down at her lap.

"I didn't have a specific route planned out beforehand," she admitted.

"Turn the location tracker in your phone settings on," Natasha ordered.

"Yes, ma'am," you both grumbled in unison, feeling akin to a scolded child.

"When we get there, you two better hope you have a better excuse than the ones we heard over the phone," Carol warned.

"You took my Corvette?" Natasha complained.

"It was either that or Carol's truck, and Wanda isn't used to driving stick yet," you insisted. "Her car's still in the shop from last month." A speeding car had rear-ended Wanda's car on the highway.

We will talk about this when we get there, do not touch the Corvette any more than you already have," with that, Natasha hung up.

"Well, apple cinnamon whiskey isn't a terrible last meal," you reasoned as Wanda folded the blanket and set it in the backseat.

"Y/n, we haven't eaten since dinner time. Whiskey is hardly a meal," Wanda grumbled, shutting the door.

"Babe, I'm trying to be optimistic."

"Captain Marvel and Black Widow are on their way to kick our asses into the moon," Wanda replied, leaning back against the Corvette. You sighed and rested your head against her shoulder. "Sorry this night was a bust," she mumbled, eyes staring down at her boots dejectedly.

You smiled and leaned in to press your lips against hers. Wrapping an arm around her waist, you pulled away and rested your forehead against hers. "This is one of the most romantic things anyone has ever done for me, Wanda. Thank you." Wanda grinned sheepishly and buried her face in your shoulder.

A few dreadful minutes later, you saw the headlights of Carol's truck speed down the gravel road. The truck lurched to a stop as the two superheroes jumped out of the car.

"Are you two alright?" Natasha demanded, half-running to the two of you.

"We're fine, I can protect myself, and Y/n was with me the whole time," Wanda reasoned. "We went out to watch a meteor shower, not go clubbing.

"I can protect myself just fine," you whined.

Carol raised an eyebrow, "Your hands were built for hacking and reading, not punching." You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. Wanda offered you a sympathetic smile but did not say anything to counter the older woman's claim. Rude.

"Wanda, get in the Corvette, Y/n get your ass in the truck," Natasha ordered. She was wearing a black leather jacket over her red silk pajama set. Carol was in basketball shorts and a tank top with a brown leather bomber jacket pulled over it. You quickly shuffled over to the truck and slid in.

Your foot nervously tapped against the floor of the car as you watched Carol grab the nearly empty bottle of whiskey and made her way over to the truck. Shutting the door, she set the bottle of whiskey on the open seat between you two and turned the keys in the ignition. As the pickup truck rumbled to life, she turned to face you. "Kid, you two nearly downed that bottle in a single night. What were you thinking?" You burrowed further into Wanda's sweatshirt as if to protect from her stern gaze.

"You're really mad at us, huh?" you mumbled, fidgeting with your hands.

Carol sighed and followed behind Natasha down the road, "You scared the shit out of us, kid. We didn't know where you had gone, why you left, plus it's nearly pitch black out here."

"But, we're adults just like you and Nat," you insisted weakly.

"You're still teenagers; we're in our 30's. Millions of things could have gone wrong; some creep could have taken you before Wanda could get to you, you could have crashed had you chosen to drive home, your phones could have died, or you could have gotten lost."

You shrunk further into your sweater, "Sorry..."

Carol sighed and looked over at you as she turned into the neighborhood. "Listen, kid. We really care about you two a lot. Nat and I have to resist the urge to duct tape you to the kitchen chairs to keep you two from leaving for missions. We know you can take care of yourselves, but a heads up in the future would be nice, and also more reasonable hours for your plans."

You grinned sheepishly, "Yeah, that seems fair."

Carol smiled and pulled into the driveway. Natasha and Wanda were waiting on the doorstep when you two got out. The latter looked thoroughly chastised as she burrowed her mouth and nose into her hoodie. When the four of you got inside, Natasha sighed and checked the clock on her phone.

"Well, we might as well watch a movie or something since it's nearly sunrise." You and Wanda settled on the couch, with Natasha to your left and Carol to Wanda's right acting as bookends. The assassin wrapped an arm around your shoulder, allowing you to rest your head in the crook of her neck. You saw Wanda lay her head in Carol's lap as the older woman pulled up Netflix. Natasha was idly threading her fingers through your hair, causing your already drunk and lethargic mind to grow hazier. Your eyes started to slip shut as you felt yourself being guided to lay your head in Nat's lap. You jerked slightly, attempting to fight the drowsiness from taking hold. Forcing your eyes open, you tried to sit up. However, the battle for consciousness was quickly lost when Nat started using her nails to gently massage your scalp.

--

"Carol," the assassin whispered to her wife. The blonde stopped her search for a good movie as she glanced over at Natasha.

"What is-" her question was quickly cut off by her wife quietly shushing her. Nat gestured down to the younger women currently lying in each of their laps. Carol glanced down to find Wanda's face hidden against the sleeve of her hoodie as she let out soft snores.

"Well, guess the movie idea's a bust," she whispered.

Natasha nodded, "You grab Wan, and I'll get Y/n."

Carefully, the heroes scooped the younger women into their arms and carried them to your shared bedroom. Natasha gently set you onto the bed beside your girlfriend and pulled the blanket- which was lying on the floor for whatever reason - to cover the two of you. Ever so cautiously, the couple crept out of the room.