#a child who evidently can be moved around more easily maybe cause she’s younger and amsterdam is closer

[waywardted]

Believing in rom-communism is all about believing that everything is going to work out in the end... Now, it may not work out how you think it will, or how you hope it does, but, believe me, it will all work out.

[lokiondisneyplus]

A review of “Journey Into Mystery,” the penultimate Loki Season One episode on Disney+, coming up just as soon as I paper cut a giant cloud to death…

Journey Into Mystery was the title of the first Marvel comic to feature either Thor or Loki. It began as an anthology series featuring monsters and aliens, but Jack Kirby, Stan Lee, and Larry Lieber were so smitten with their adaptation of the characters of Norse myth that the Asgardians gradually took over the whole book, which was renamed after its hammer-wielding hero(*).

(*) The early Journey Into Mystery stories treated Thor’s alter ego, disabled Dr. Donald Blake, as the “real” character, while Thor was just someone Blake could magically transform into, while retaining his memories and personality. It wasn’t even clear whether Asgard itself was meant to exist at first, until Loki turned up on Earth in an early issue, caused trouble, and Blake/Thor somehow knew exactly how to get to Asgard to drop him off. Soon, the lines between Thor and Blake began to blur, and eventually Thor became the real guy, and Blake a fiction invented by Odin to humble his arrogant son. It’s a mark of just how instantly charismatic Loki was that the entire title quickly steered towards him and the other gods.

But once upon a time, anything was possible in Journey Into Mystery, which makes it an apt moniker for an absolutely wonderful episode of Loki where the same holds true. Our title characters are trapped in the Void, a place at the end of time where the TVA’s victims are banished to be devoured by a cloud monster named Alioth. And mostly they are surrounded by the wreckage of many dead timelines. Classic Loki insists that his group’s only goal is survival, and any kind of planning and scheming is doomed to kill the Loki who tries. But this ruined, hopeless world instead feels bursting with imagination and possibility.

There are the many Loki variants we see, with President Loki, among others, joining Classic, Kid, Boastful, and Alligator Loki. There are the metric ton of Easter Eggs just waiting to be screencapped by Marvel obsessives (I discuss a few of them down below), but which still suggest a much larger and weirder MCU even if you don’t immediately scream out “Is that… THROG?!?!?” at the appropriate moment. And all of that stuff is tons of fun, to be sure. But what makes this episode — and, increasingly, this series — feel so special is the way that it explores the untapped potential of Loki himself, in his many, many variations.

This is an episode that owes more than a small stylistic and thematic debt to Lost. It’s not just that Alioth looks and sounds so much like the Smoke Monster(*), that it makes a shared Wizard of Oz reference to “the man behind the curtain” (also the title of one of the very best Lost episodes), or even that the core group of Lokis are hiding in a bunker accessible via a hatch and a ladder that’s filled with recreational equipment (in this case, bowling alley lanes). It’s also that Loki, Sylvie, their counterparts, and Mobius have all been transported to a strange place that has disturbing echoes from their own lives, that operates according to strange new rules they have to learn while fleeing danger, and their presence there allows them to reflect on the many mistakes of their past and consider whether they want to, or can, transcend them.

(*) Yes, Alioth technically predates Smokey by a decade (see the notes below for more), but his look has been tweaked a bit here to seem more like smoke than a cloud, and the sounds he makes when he roars sound a lot like Smokey’s telltale taxi cab meter clicks. Given the other Lost hat tips in the episode, I have to believe Alioth was chosen specifically to evoke Smokey.

Classic Loki is aptly named. He wears the Sixties Jack Kirby costume, and he is a far more powerful magician than either Sylvie or our Loki have allowed themselves to be. He calls our Loki’s knives worthless compared to his sorcery, which feels like the show acknowledging that the movies depowered Loki a fair amount to make him seem cooler. But if Classic Loki can conjure up illusions bigger and more potent than his younger peers, he is a fundamentally weak and defeated man, convinced, like the others, that the only way to win the game into which he was born is not to play. “We cannot change,” he insists. “We’re broken. Every version of ourselves. Forever.” It is not only his sentiment — Kid Loki adds that any Loki who tries to improve inevitably winds up in the Void for their troubles — but it seems to have weighed on him longer and harder than most.

But Classic Loki takes inspiration from Loki and Sylvie to stand and fight rather than turn and run, magicking up a vision of their homeland to distract Alioth at a crucial moment in Sylvie’s plan, and getting eaten for his trouble. He was wrong: Lokis can change. (Though Kid Loki might once again argue that Classic Loki’s death is more evidence that the universe has no interest in any of them doing so.) And both Loki and Sylvie have been changing throughout their time together. Like most Lokis, they seem cursed to a life of loneliness. Sylvie learned as a child that a higher power believed she should not exist, and has spent a lifetime hiding out in places where any friends she might make will soon die in an apocalypse. Our Loki’s past isn’t quite so stark, but the knowledge that his birth father abandoned him, while his adoptive father never much liked him, have left permanent scars that govern a lot of his behavior. The defining element of Classic Loki’s backstory is that he spent a long time alone on a planet, and only got busted by the TVA when he attempted to reconnect with his brother and anyone else he once knew. This is a hard existence, for all of them. And while it does not forgive them their many sins(*), it helps contextualize them, and give them the knowledge to try to be better versions of themselves.

(*) Loki at one point even acknowledges that, for him, it’s probably only been a few days since he led an alien invasion of New York that left many dead, though due to TVA shenanigans, far more time may have passed.

For that matter, Mobius is not the stainless hero he once thought of himself as. While he and Sylvie are tooling around the Void in a pizza delivery car (because of course they are), he admits that he committed a lot of sins by believing that the ends justified the means, and was wrong. He doesn’t know who he is before the TVA stole and factory rebooted him, but he knows that he wants something better for himself and the universe, and takes the stolen TemPad to open up a portal to his own workplace in hopes of tearing down the TVA once and for all. Before he goes, though, he and Loki share a hug that feels a lot more poignant than it should, given that these characters have only spent parts of four episodes of TV together. It’s a testament to Hiddleston, Wilson, Waldron, and company (Tom Kauffman wrote this week’s script) that their friendship felt so alive and important in such a short amount of time.

The same can be said for Loki and Sylvie’s relationship, however we’re choosing to define it. Though they briefly cuddle together under a blanket that Loki conjures, they move no closer to romance than they were already. If anything, Mobius’ accusations of narcissism in last week’s episode seem to have made both of them pull back a bit from where they seemed to be heading back on Lamentis. But the connection between them is real, whatever exactly it is. And their ability to take down Alioth — to tap into the magic that Classic Loki always had, and to fulfill Loki’s belief that “I think we’re stronger than we realize” — by working together is inspiring and joyful. Without all this nuanced and engaging character work, Loki would still be an entertaining ride, but it’s the marriage of wild ideas with the human element that’s made it so great.

Of course, now comes the hard part. Endings have rarely been an MCU strength, give or take something like the climax of Endgame, and the finales of the two previous Disney+ shows were easily their weakest episodes. The strange, glorious, beautiful machine that Waldron and Herron have built doesn’t seem like it’s heading for another generic hero/villain slugfest, but then, neither did WandaVision before we got exactly that. This one feels different so far, though. The command of the story, the characters, and the tone are incredibly strong right now. There is a mystery to be solved about who is in the big castle beyond the Void (another Loki makes the most narrative and thematic sense to me, but we’ll see), and a lot to be resolved about what happens to the TVA and our heroes. And maybe there’s some heavy lifting that has to be done in service to the upcoming Dr. Strange or Ant-Man films.

It’s complicated, but on a show that has handled complexity well. Though even if the finale winds up keeping things simpler, that might work. As Loki notes while discussing his initial plan to take down Alioth, “Just because it’s not complicated doesn’t mean it’s bad.” Though as Kid Loki retorts, “It also doesn’t mean it’s good.”

Please be good, Loki finale. Everything up to this point deserves that.

Some other thoughts:

* Most of this week’s most interesting material happens in the Void. But the scenes back at the TVA clarify a few things. First, Ravonna is not the mastermind of all this, and she was very much suckered in by the Time-Keeper robots. But unlike Mobius or Hunter B-15, she’s so conditioned to the mission that even knowing it’s a lie hasn’t really swayed her from her mission. She has Miss Minutes (who herself is much craftier this week) looking into files about the creation of the TVA, but for the most part comes across as someone very happy with a status quo where she gets to be special and pass judgment on the rest of the multiverse.

* Alioth first appeared in 1993’s Avengers: The Terminatrix Objective, a miniseries (written by Mobius inspiration Mark Gruenwald, and with some extremely kewl Nineties art full of shoulder pads, studded collars, and the like) involving Ravonna, Kang, and the off-brand versions of Captain America, Iron Man, and Thor (aka U.S. Agent, War Machine, and Thunderstrike, the latter of whom has yet to appear in the MCU). It’s a sequel to a Nineties crossover event called Citizen Kang. And no, I still don’t buy that Kang will be the one pulling the strings here, if only because it’s really bad storytelling for the big bad of the season to have never appeared or even been mentioned prior to the finale.

* Rather than try to identify every Easter egg visible in the Void’s terrain, I’ll instead highlight three of the most interesting. Right before the Lokis arrive at the hatch, we see a helicopter with Thanos’ name on it. This is a hat tip to an infamous — and often memed — out-of-continuity story where Thanos flies this chopper while trying to steal the Cosmic Cube (aka the Tesseract) from Hellcat. (A little kid gets his hands on it instead and, of course, uses the Cube to conjure up free ice cream.) James Gunn has been agitating for years for the Thanos Copter to be in the MCU. He finally got his wish.

* The other funny one: When the camera pans down the tunnel into Kid Loki’s headquarters, we see Mjolnir buried in the ground, and right below it is a jar containing a very annoyed frog in a Thor costume. This is either Thor himself — whom Loki cursed into amphibianhood in a memorable Walt Simonson storyline — or another character named Simon Walterston (note the backwards tribute to Walt) who later assumed the tiny mantle.

* Also, in one scene you can spot Yellowjacket’s helmet littering the landscape. This might support the theory that the TVA, the Void, etc., all exist in the Quantum Realm, since that’s where the MCU version of Yellowjacket probably went when his suit shorted out and he was crushed to subatomic size. Or it might be more trolling of the fanbase from the company that had WandaVision fans convinced that Mephisto, the X-Men, and/or Reed Richards would be appearing by the season finale.

* Honestly, I would have watched an entire episode that was just Loki, Mobius, and the others arguing about whether Alligator Loki was actually a Loki, or just a gator who ended up with the crown, presumably after eating a real Loki. The suggestion that the gator might be lying — and that this actually supports, rather than undermines, the case for him being a Loki — was just delightful. And hey, if Throg exists in the MCU now, why not Alligator Loki?

* Finally, the MCU films in general are not exactly known for their visual flair, though a few directors like Taika Waititi and Ryan Coogler have been able to craft distinctive images within the franchise’s usual template. Loki, though, is so often wonderful to look at, and particularly when our heroes are stuck in strange environments like Lamentis or the Void. Director Kate Herron and the VFX team work very well together to create dynamic and weird imagery like Sylvie running from Alioth, or the chaotic Loki battle in the bowling alley. Between this show and WandaVision, it appears the Disney+ corner of the MCU has a bit more room to expand its palette. (Falcon and the Winter Soldier, much less so.)

[arcadejohn127-9]

Here me out, A Child AU of the brothers, with a Loving and Protective Older Brother MC. This MC would basically always be there for the brothers, helping them manage their “sins” (which are just childish flaws in this AU) and spoiling them.

MC gives them all the much needed affection and stability their absent parents (Can’t escape the daddy issues) deprived them from, and makes sure to create free-time for the boys so they can explore their hobbies, play with each other (And their beloved Older Brother, and just be kids in general.

Perhaps MC & the brothers parents are the CEO’s of multiple different worldwide company’s and don’t have time/don’t really care for them? And so they just have MC and the boys in a random mansion with maids/servants to manage the house and “care” for them, leaving MC to step up as the guardian for these boys despite being their older brother. (I imagine that the servants/other staff don’t do much in terms of anything personal, and only do stuff like clean the house, cook, give them distant lessons, stiffly help the boys get dressed if they need assistance, etc.)

In other words the boys would be screwed emotionally if Older Brother MC wasn’t there to make sure they were actually thriving and getting to act like kids.

However, this MC is also the only parental figure in these boys lives, and as such this MC gets very exhausted because at the end of the day they are taking care of 7 children who rely on him, so maybe you could write some good old hurt/comfort in the end to really to really pull it all together?

I really love this ask, y'all be sending me the best sibling prompts and I'm over here, having no idea wtf a proper sibling relationship is 😂 please keep them coming

I absolutely adore this prompt!

Warning: neglectful parents, hurt with comfort, long, angst

You jogged down the stairs, eyes darting around to find the least busiest servant. You started to loose hope until you spotted a maid carrying a laundry basket. You quickly rushed over to her.

"Are they home today? I have a party I was invited to and I was hoping they'd look after the kids."

"I'm sorry, master (Y/N) but your parents aren't home today and I'm afraid they won't be in until next Wednesday, we can always look after them-"

You tried to hide your disdain; the servants were helpful but they just did what was needed, they didn't bother with the emotional side of caring for your little brothers. Most of them being toddler's still, the youngest were just babies! They needed emotional care!

"thank you but I'll just do it myself."

The maid didn't say anything else, going on with her task. You entered the living room where you knew your brother's were. You found another servant watching them, bouncing Satan whilst he screamed and wailed.

Lucifer was glaring at the servant whilst he held Beezlebub's hands, stopping the little guy from chewing on his hand. Mammon was holding a sleeping belphegor. Asmodeus was padding at the servant, wanting his little brother but the servant just ignored him. Levithan was the first to notice you; he gripped the game controller he was playing with, waddling quickly over to you.

"I'll take it from here." You stated, causing all your brother's to turn to you.

The servant let out a sigh of relief, handing you Satan harshly. "I'll be back for my duties later."

Satan grabbed onto your shirt, sniffling and let out small noises of anger before finally settling down. You gently bounced him, kissing his little cat eared hat.

"did I take too long? I know they're not very nice to you, I'm sorry."

You knelt down, your brother's all coming to greet you. You gave each one an exaggerated kiss on the forehead. Asmo tugged at your sleeve, pouting.

"They wouldn't let me hold Satan, gimme."

You chuckled, letting asmo cradle his baby brother. Lucifer was fuming; evident from how he crossed his arms, an ugly angry face present on him.

"They're useless." Lucifer was the eldest out of your younger brother's, he was always protective of them and insulted by the servants lack of care.

Mammon crawled into your lap, belphie giving you grabby hands as he finally woke up. You gave him your finger; he happily grabbed it and held it close to his face.

"They're not useless, they just don't get the kind of care you need."

Lucifer just huffed. Tugging little Satan's hands off his brother's hair, poor asmo trying to to move too much. You knew you could always count on Lucifer to help you; afterall you were looking after 7 brothers.

Beel was gumming Levi's controller much to his distress. You quickly put the chew necklace in your little brothers mouth, The ginger happily going for it while the third eldest protectively clutched his controller.

suddenly, your phone rang. You answered the call, not even checking who it was.

"(Y/N), It's Michael, I'm here to speak on behalf of your father."

"Huh? He can't call me himself?" You raised a brow, adjusting your seat as you kept the phone close to your ear.

"Not right now, he's busy in his latest meeting - I'm sure you've been told that they won't be coming back until next Wednesday but there seems to be some issues and their stay will be extended."

"what's mom doing? Is she busy aswell?"

"she's staying in the hotel, her bussiness is done for now."

You grit your teeth, turning your head away from your brother's eyes. You could feel them watch you with their curious big eyes. But you refused to let them see you mad; though that didn't stop your mouth from moving without much thought.

"Michael, can you tell her to get her damn as- butt back home and stop using dad's trip as a vocation! She's got kids to look after-!"

"my apologies, I'll tell her you request her presence but I cannot promise-"

Your buzzed aggressively, you checked to see who it was and it was another student from the university you went to. Well- you went to it through online school as your brother's took top priority.

"I get it, I need to go, I have another call."

He couldn't even say goodbye, you swapped the call. It ended your call with Michael automatically.

"hello? What's up?"

"(Y/N) you coming tonight? I was telling people you were coming so you better come."

"I can't- my parents aren't home so I have to look after my brother's." You sighed, your mood deflating.

"don't you have like maids or something? Just let them do it! You're always looking after your brother's, just come over!"

"you know I can't! The servants don't give them the emotional attention they need, they're still young and growing! I can't just let them be treated like that-"

"uggh!!! You're always like this, I shouldn't of invited you, Everyone knows you're just some bore with no life, I thought you could actually prove people wrong."

You wanted to chew them out but you could see your brothers upset faces in the corner of your eye. you hung up, turning to comfort them but they caught you off guard.

"you go! We'll be good for the maids! I swear, I won't make (Y/N) upset!" Mammon cried out, clutching his little brother.

"I'll watch over them, go have fun." Lucifer chimed in, adjusting his hold on Satan.

You shook your head. Internally yelling at your peer for being so loud. "I'm fine being right here, you guys are more important than any party."

Asmo furiously shook his head. "No!! Parties are cool and you're cool! Go!"

"Parties aren't all that, I've seen enough of them in movies."

You've been one to one. Looking after your brother's took full time once you were old enough but you didn't need to do things like that. You could easily dance around in a room with music and snacks. You definitely didn't need to do that - it was just some experience people did for fun. You're fun! You can have your own fun!

You had a life and was the most interesting person ever. Totally. Definitely. 100%! It wasn't like you were actually looking forward to it and really wanted to meet your peers in person for once....actually make friends and let yourself be you for once.....

Chubby hands squished your cheeks. You looked up to see baby Beel was holding up his chew necklace; wanting you to chew on it. It was his favourite, belphie picked it out for him and he's been keeping close to his chest since. Belphie was the one squishing your cheeks, trying to get your attention.

"how did your face get wet..?"

That's when it hit you. You were crying. You hastily wiped them away, forcing a big smile.

"I'm fine! See!"

Suddenly, a controller smacked you in the forehead. You yelped. Levi was frowning, his little hands for clenching and unclenching.

"THEY'RE JUST NORMIES!!! YOU'RE TOO COOL TO CRY OVER THEM!"

You gasped, not expecting him to act out like this. You were so use to his timid and shut off nature you weren't sure he could even raise his voice like that. Satan stirred away, confused on why his brother was yelling.

You didn't expect that to hit you so hard. You bawled out into fat tears, hugging mammon, Belphie and Beel. It wasn't long for the rest of the brothers to come to your side, hugging you as you cried. You hurriedly hugged them all, kissing each of their chubby cheeks.

Asmo, mammon and levi were all crying with you. Each of them returning a kiss to your cheeks. You always kissed their cheeks or forhead to make them happy. To have them do the same to you made your heart soften.

"I'm so happy you're all my brother's....thank you."

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Serotonin

Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader, Sam Winchester

Word Count: 2,031

Warnings: soft smut, cockwarming, fluff, mention of children on cases

Request by @sharp-cheekbones-locked​: Can you write a DeanxReader where a hunt went wrong and the reader needs to get out so Dean drags her into Baby and they drive around. They are no couple yet just best friends. Somewhen they stop it's dawn and they lay on the hood of the car while they watch the sunset and gaze stars. They end up holding hands, cuddling, kissing. If you want smut in baby.

Summary: Dean is your best friend, and you’ve always wanted to be more. If it happens, then it happens, and if it’s going to happen, then it’s going to happen now.

Squares Filled: driving in the impala for @spndeanbingo​ // god helps those who help themselves for @as-the-saying-goes-bingo​ // healer for @spnfluffbingo​ // “I’m fine. It’s just that life is pointless and nothing matters and I’m always tired.” for @spnquotebingo​

Author’s Note: This is unbeta’d and all mistakes are mine. If you have any requests, please send them in!

Hunts don’t always go as planned. Sometimes they allow room for ideas and improvising thinking that can either got o shit or it can save your life. Sometimes the monsters aren’t always what they seem, and you have to change your way of thinking and planning in order to get the monster. Sometimes, a hunt can take a turn for the worst, and you’re left with a dead child, a dead monster, and a lot of blood that’s been spilled.

It’s no one’s fault. You can’t ever predict this kind of behavior. Monsters act on their own accord, and you’re never really sure what you’re dealing with until you do. The child that died wasn’t anyone’s fault--it was a complete accident, but that doesn’t stop your brain from thinking back to your past, the decisions you’ve made, and the worry you now carry on your shoulders.

No one is safe, not even children anymore.

The entire ride home was spent in complete and utter pain of the choices you’ve made, worrying about where they are now and what they’re doing. Wondering if a monster is ever going to attack or grab at your choices. You know for a fact they aren’t in this life because you made sure they were far from it.

It’s weird how all you want is to hold him close as if being right by your side is safer than being on the other side of the world from you.

Dean can see just how much this hunt is taking a toll on you, but he doesn’t know how to ask you about it. The bags under your eyes are heavy, your shoulders sag from all the weight and stress you’ve been carrying, and your body is just tired. As soon as you trudge through the door, he says something.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. It’s just that life is pointless and nothing matters and I’m always tired,” you shrug.

“Okay, come with me.”

“Dean--”

“Just for a drive. Give me twenty minutes of your time.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

Sam takes yours and Dean’s bags since he knows something is up too. He wants to be of help in any way, but he knows Dean is going to help more. You’re much closer to the oldest brother than to the youngest. You’re the oldest sibling as well, you had to parent your younger siblings before, and you had to take on much more responsibilities than the others just to make sure they were having the time of their lives.

You know a thing or two about what Dean has been through, so he’s the brother you leaned on the most whenever you needed someone. You two are just friends, but the possibility of being something more has always been in the back of your mind. You’ve never done anything about it because you don’t want to ruin what you two have.

Plus, your friendship is more than amazing--he’s everything you could ever need in a best friend.

If you two happen, then you two happen. You’re very much happy with either of those choices. As long as he’s in your life, there can be no wrong. You’re just not going to actively search for something that doesn’t want to be found. You haven’t found it in ten years, and you’re not sure if you’ll ever find it in him.

The drive away from the bunker is nice. The windows are down, there is a nice breeze going on outside, the rock music is low and soothing, and your best friend is right next to you. There haven’t been any words exchanged on this ride since you two have got int he car, and that’s alright. Dean knows you’ll talk to him when you’re ready to talk. In the meantime, he’s just going to keep driving.

That twenty minutes took forty that also turned into an hour and a half. Right now, you’re parked on top of a hill that’s surrounded by trees overlooking the small city. The air is so clear and the sky is so dark that you can see the stars as if they were right in front of you and not millions of light-years away. The sun is almost going down, and it gives off a dull pinkish hue that makes everything seem magical. You two are ling on top of Baby’s hood, just lying in silence. That silence is broken when you sigh deeply with a shake of your head.

“You don’t know this about me, but when I graduated high school, I got pregnant,” you begin.

You can’t fathom the thought of looking at Dean right now, so you opt to look at the stars as if they are listening to you.

“I got pregnant with someone horrible. I left and had the baby all on my own. I wasn’t in the right mind to care for a child, so I put him up for adoption. I made sure he got adopted into a loving home with amazing parents--parents who are better than I could ever be. I got pregnant with someone truly horrible, but all I felt for my baby boy was pure love.

“All I could think was, ‘how can someone as beautiful as you come from someone as evil as him?’. I got scared knowing he’s all I’d ever want and need but also knowing that he deserved a lot more than me. Seeing that little boy yesterday brought it all back. I can’t even imagine my son in the hands of those monsters. I can’t even imagine my son always looking over his shoulder because something might be there to eat him if he’s not careful.

“I keep telling myself that with him being on the other side of the world with loving parents and a great home is a helluva lot better than being by my side with monsters and demons and guns. I don’t know what I’d do if I knew he was in danger without me being by his side. I make sure he’s okay. I have the family send me letters and postcards of him without him knowing. I have them sent to a P.O. Box a few towns over.

“But every time I see a child on our hunts, I think of him. What if it is him? What if the monsters got to him because he wasn’t prepared? What if they brought him to me just so they could rub it in my face that they are the ones killing him? It drives me insane just thinking about it, and I hate it. That’s why I get like this whenever a child is involved. I figured if anyone should know, it’s you.”

You finally have the courage to look at Dean, only to find out he’s already looking at you. His green eyes swirl with admiration and sympathy. You’re nothing to admire, but he’s on a whole other level right now.

“Thank you for telling me,” he says.

“You’re my best friend. I figured I owe you at least an explanation instead of shutting you out,” you chuckle dryly.

“You do that anyway.”

“I do,” you laugh.

You two stay like that, just staring into each other eyes. You’re afraid to make the next move in fear of it being the wrong one, so you just stay like that. It’s a nice night, and you don’t want to leave the bubble you blew around yourself. Just you and Dean, Baby, the stars, and nothing else to distract you two. If anything is going to happen, it’s going to happen now--you don’t know when and you don’t know how, but you have a feeling this is what you’ve been waiting for over ten years.

The stars twinkle in support for you two, and you find yourself leaning closer to Dean. Either you’re doing it or he is--maybe both--but your lips meet his in the middle. His lips are a lot softer than you’d imagine them to be with how much he licks, bites, and chews on them. His hand is soft against your cheek, just barely letting you know he isn’t going to be anything but gentle with you. Normally, you’d go for the much rougher side of things, but right now, you’re grateful for some tenderness.

You’re not exactly sure how you two ended up in the backseat of baby, but you can’t think of anything else except for the weight of his body against yours. Clothes peel off like old skin trying to shed from its new body. Two hearts beat as one the longer you spend pressed against his bare body. His lips are cool against your heated skin, yet the ignite the fire within you.

There’s no need for foreplay. You’ve had ten years’ worth of foreplay to encourage this one evening. He slides in easily as if he’s meant to be inside you this entire time. Out of all the men you’ve been with, never has someone felt as good as Dean does. It’s like the stars created you two to be together and with no one else.

Shocks of pleasure course up your spine, causing you to throw your head back. His lips attach themselves to your breasts, his hands grip your hips, and his cock hits places you never knew were there. His hips snap to yours quicker and faster, and the serotonin in your brain kicks in at full speed.

“Shit, Dean, you feel so good,” you moan.

“Are you going to come for me?” he whispers against your skin.

“Yes,” you let out a breathy moan.

“Do you want me to come in you?”

“Yes.”

“As you wish, sweetheart,” he grunts.

At the same time, his hips go just a bit harder causing his cock to push just a bit deeper. The car is filling up with sweat, heat, and the delicious smell of sex. Condensation covers the window, and you’ve always wanted to be like Rose in the Titanic when she has sex in the car with Jack. It’s not needed, but you slam your hand against the window, leaving behind evidence of your love.

Without detaching from your right breast, he moves his hand further south and rubs your clit in small circles. The immediate stimulation from that including the way his cock hits what you can only assume is your g-spot is enough to send you over the edge. Dean has been picturing this moment in his mind for a long time, and now that he gets to experience it with you, it’s enough to send him tumbling over the edge with you.

Your orgasm mixes with his in an attempt to create a child, but you know that’s impossible. Your first and only child was a miracle because you had almost died during childbirth, and the doctor explicitly told you that children weren't good odds for you in the future. Maybe they would happen with Dean, but you’re not getting your hopes up.

You come down from your high, but the serotonin in your brain stays at its peak level. Just being with Dean is enough to keep you on that high for the rest of your life. His cock softens inside you, but he doesn’t move to take it out. He likes staying where it’s warm, and you don’t mind the comfort.

“I love you,” you whisper when you get enough strength to stare into his eyes.

“I love you,” he repeats back to you.

“Let’s stay like this for a while. It feels nice,” you mutter and close your eyes.

“Yeah, it does,” he nods.

He moves while still keeping you locked onto him. You don’t know how he does it, but he has managed to flip you so he’s resting on the backseat with you on top of him. He didn’t want to crush you, but he likes having your weight on top of him. It’s reminding him that there is some good left in this world. It’s hard to find and it’s not always what you’re looking for, but once you have it, all the bad seems worth it.

Wanna get tagged? Add yourself to this document! If your tag doesn’t work, find out why!

@flamencodiva​ @pisces-cutie​ @wingedcatninja​ @mersuperwholocked-lowlife​ @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester​ @kiwihoee​ @thefaithfulwriter​ @babypink224221​ @jennazeise​ @calaofnoldor​ @emoryhemsworth​ @miraclesoflove​ @xxboesefrauxx​ @kendall-michele​ @winchest3rbros​ @nahigm​ @sandlee44​ @bluedazefangirl​ @a--1--1--3​ @paintballkid711​ @musiclovinchic93​ @mrspeacem1nusone​ @essie1876​ @thelazywitchphotographer​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @fuckwby​ @gh0stgurl​ @sing4mejensen​ @redsalv20​ @superrandomnatural​ @scarletmeii​ @mizzezm​ @gaveherhearttotheliontattoo​ @akshi8278​ @miraclesoflove​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​ @katherine097​ @phantomalchemist​ @posiemax​ @tricksterdean​ @fallingintovoids​ @countrygal17a​ @whit85-blog​ @sammypotato67​ @knowledgefulbutterfly​ @justalonely-nerd​ @sharp-cheekbones-locked​ @deanloveboi​ @dream-believe-and-love​ @casseythebee​ @redperson58​ @liberty0123​ @donnaintx​ @deans-baby-momma​

[cruzrogue]

The Rise of the Lamb

So very AU. The part of the past that Felicity Smoak has kept tight lipped. Even before Cooper Sheldon. She had a torrid affair with the darkness which led to having her handle across all that was the dark web.

Nothing, no one could stop her then. With a broken college heart, she swore off the darken ways. That is until she walked away from another broken heart that the league of assassins created.

Her light dimming. Turning her back to a living ghost. The animal spirit of a fox. It is time for the Goddess within her to awaken again.

It was not an end. If the league of shadows wants to play. She’ll ignite the true shadows of world to seek and hunt her prey.

Watching the patrol of this area pass by. Felicity Smoak waits silently. Keeping the aura of her wrist mainframe from emitting a glow. Switching a filter on her spectacles it allows her to see in the dark as she jumps down from her perch to land quietly before the door that holds what she requirements.

Easily unlocking the coded door to enter swiftly and take back something of importance to her that the police confiscated from the foundry.

Her first act of being back to a persona she thought she’d never be again. It is bittersweet. Taking important memorabilia from SCPD’s criminal storage. She rubs the fabric between her exposed fingertips. Taking the hood that meant something to Oliver is now to be imbedded into her own disguise. This way a piece of him will always be with her.

As quickly as she came into the evidence room she is gone.

  ~~~*~~~

Back at the loft that the Queen siblings shared. A lingering sadness with an abundance of an eerie silence have the occupants keeping to themselves. With some dramatic changes. Felicity steps out of what was Oliver’s room. Like in the past, Felicity shed her outer appearance. Taking back her once darker look. Shedding the large bright wardrobe that remains at her townhome.

It is easier to move in with Thea. It is the least Felicity can do for Oliver. Keeping his sister close. Making sure the young woman gets back on her feet. The turmoil of what Ra’s Al Ghul did. It is a living nightmare. Thea at the verge of death only to be pulled back and now be cursed with an urge to kill. Blood lust.

Even with Thea’s father’s sporadic visits. If the man doesn’t get in her way. She’ll pay him no mind. He is useful in keeping Thea occupied. It adds to helping Felicity go about her tasks.

“Thea, I’m heading out. Make sure the door is locked behind me.”

“Out again?”

“Yes. I have a few things to do.”

“With the team?”

Felicity just gives the younger woman a blank look.

“Felicity?”

“I’ll be back in a few hours. Don’t wait up.” Not waiting on a reply Felicity leaves Thea’s place.

 ~~~*~~~

“I’m not sure what to make of this new look, Ms. Smoak.”

“Wasn’t asking for your opinion.”

He huffs but asks with some joking flair if she’ll be wielding a bow in memorandum to her ex-lover. It gets him to move back suddenly as Felicity gets up close that she doesn’t need to speak above a whisper. The icy glare of her eyes speaks volumes. She still murmurs a few words that has Malcolm Merlyn frozen in place. He must hand it to her. Yet again, she is one of the most incredible, interesting, and remarkable individuals that Oliver has surrounded himself with.

If he didn’t witness some maneuvers of hers a few nights ago. He would not have believed she could be more than just the central wits of the Arrow team. It only brings him to wonder if Oliver Queen knew the real woman he was longing after. She can take control and give him a stare with choice words like she did when she drugged her lover.

Not backing down from her stare out of principal. As she may be an enigma. He is still the trained man that the league had once held. No stranger to combat. Especially mind games.

They’re at a standstill.

It is Felicity who breaks it, “Your daughter had a rough day. I doubt your presence will make it any better.”

“I disagree. I think my cheery disposition is a craving she’ll take as comfort.”

“If you mean narcissism. Sure.” Felicity is already on the move, “Don’t wait up.”

Malcolm doesn’t get a chance to answer as she’s already vaulting off the roof.

 Verdant’s basement still had the bare bones of what is needed. The foundry is quiet. Especially since the SCPD raided the club. Felicity just silently walks around the almost empty place. Allowing the memory of some of the hardest moments she’s had here. The Arrow isn’t in action anymore.

With the calming rhythmic noise of her servers coming to life she starts to add to its capacity. Using it as the center hub of every other server she has connected to just on this side of the Hampshire.

She doesn’t react as a voice is heard out of an unlit corner. The bright bubbly woman she’s drowned out would have screamed. This darken demure that is now in place can show irritation. That is if she didn’t have one of the silent alerts giving her a slight advantage.

“You’re operating again?” He doesn’t need to ask if it really is her. The long lethargic stretch of time is what he questions, “Why now?”

“Hello, Bruce.” He pulls back his mask and looks around to what looks like an abandoned hideout. “What brings you to Starling City?” He doesn’t mention that she’s the one who invited him here. “What gave me away? Was it tapping into one of your satellites?”

He chuckles lowly. Both know the only reason is because she left him a calling card. She’s too good. If she didn’t want him to find it. He wouldn’t have.

“You left your calling card.”

She doesn’t smile. She hasn’t since leaving her heart in Nanda Parbat.  

“I suppose I did. Didn’t think I’d get a live bat appearance.”

“I am a little disappointed.” She just keeps her eyes on him, “You took to working for Kord, Queen, Palmer, even a stint at Tech Village. Not once even entertaining my offers.” She can’t help but roll her eyes. “We could have done some amazing real work together.”

“We crossed paths enough in my youth. I know drama when I see it.”

“Yet, you settled for working closely with a toxophilite.” Watching as the corner of her mouth curl upward. It has him inwardly groan. It seems that man’s archery skills has an positive effect on her.

He raises a hand in defeat. “I get it.” He takes a seat near her side, “Are you really going to wage war on a formidable foe?”

“I am not going to lose him.”

“You may already have.”

“Oliver is a survivor. He is one of the strongest men I have ever known.”

“You mean stubborn.”

“With some of you. It always means the same thing.”

Their history is complex. He met her in his journey to becoming the Batman. She was still a child. An amazing kid-wonder. Though that is a tale-in-itself. Now she needs help.

“What do you need from me?”

“I want you to stand aside and let me do my thing.”

Observing how she is pacing this obsolete work area. He at least can fund her better equipment. He knows at least she’ll accept that kind of help.

She seems lost in thought. Maybe thinking of a few instances that they’ve worked on some life altering causes, “Felicity?” That gets her attention again, “I asked you to not interfere once and…”

“And if I intervened earlier. She would still be alive.” That memory agitates her, “It isn’t my guilt to carry around, but you loved her Bruce. If you had some help…” He just nods at those words. It’s a death that will always haunt him.

“I know.”

“If I need you.” She pauses. It is hard to ask for help, “I’ll reach out.” Not needing to turn around to see that he has left on those last words.

For now, he will respect her wishes.

[hunflowers]

Mythology (II)

Word Count: 6.5k

Requested? Not exactly, but you always can here :)

A/N: Thank you all for being so patient! I’ve decided I’m going to extend the series into another part so I split up this chapter a little bit so it wouldn’t be too long, and so I wouldn’t have to cram so much into one chapter. There’s more Harry in this one so I hope you enjoy! Also, if you like what you read (or if you didn’t) send me some feedback, it really helps me out :) *nose boops*

tag list: @thicksniall @meetmeinfleetwood @afire-hes @pradaxstyles @c-h-e-r-r-y-y @gotmyhandonmyheart @burberryharold @harrymoncheri

Waking up in a foreign bed the next day, solidified this new reality for Calista.

One trait about her is that she finds it very difficult to sleep in a bed that isn’t her own, so it was actually a miracle she could fall asleep so easily the night before. Because she bounced around a lot as a child from home to home, not having one single bed to call her own was a reason for her exhausting insomnia. More proof that her move away from the states had been good on her, is that her illness had lessened its severity when she finally could call a place home. Most of the times when it occurs nowadays is when she’s over stressed about something. Yet, the previous night had been one of her most peaceful slumbers.

Her and Trinity had stayed in the cafeteria for a while after their encounter with Wren, the thin ice they had been walking on dissipating into a more comfortable area where they didn’t feel this unbearable tension surrounding them. Niall and Harry had helped with this easy atmosphere, all of them informing Calista the best they could before she would talk to Mr. Cirillo the next day.

Harry didn’t stick around too long though, hopping around between tables and people before disappearing completely for the night. Something about him was so intriguing, and even if she had only spoken to him for a maximum of twenty minutes, Calista could say she had the tiniest crush on him. It was ridiculous to think such a thing, because she obviously hardly knows him, but there was something about him.

Maybe because he genuinely seemed interested in her, something not a lot of males, or people in general, do.

When she first came to Cambridge there was one boy who liked her, resulting in a relationship of almost a year, but of course he turned out to be a bit of a dickhead, that mainly cared for himself and disregarded her in so many ways. But, Harry didn’t seem like the type; He actually seemed genuine. Of course she doesn’t want to get her hopes too high up, but that doesn’t stop the physical attraction she has towards him.

She was directed to go to Mr. Cirillo’s office early that morning, of course getting lost on the way there, shamefully asking two different people for directions. She should’ve been given some sort of map to guide her because this place was nothing short of humongous.

When she finally came across the plaque that read Headmaster Cirillo, she took a deep breath and knocked softly on the door, a response immediately voicing on the other side of the door. Pushing the white wood open, she poked her head in and saw Mr. Cirillo at his desk. He removed his one lens glasses from his face, a soft smile on his lips as he gestured to the seat across from him, encouraging her to sit on the patent leather

“Good morning, Calista. Please, have a seat,” the older man… cyclops greets her, hands clasped together on the desk in an authoritative manner. “Sleep well?” 

“Yes, thank you,” she answered, for some reason completely nervous. It was sort of like when she would be called to the principal’s office when she was younger because she would miss classes or the one time she got into a fight and broke the girl’s nose. In her defense, the girl started it, and she doesn’t even really remember where the strength came from to actually break the girl’s nose.

Something now tells her it has to do with her ancestry. If that’s even possible. But, at this rate, anything is possible as she sits across from a cyclops, and is a demigod herself.

“Good, well, then I’ll get started. I know you’re wondering why it took so long for you to… know about everything and I’m here to answer any questions you have to the best of my abilities. I’d rather you ask me anything and we’ll go on from there.”

Calista nodded along, sweat in her palms developing, causing her to casually sit her thighs down on top of her hands. So many questions sprinted through her mind, her not knowing which to ask first. “I mean… I don't know, why did it take so long? I spoke to people last night and they’ve all been here for years and I guess I just want to know why I wasn’t told sooner.”

Mr. Cirillo nodded his head, “That was per your mother’s request. She was adamant on you not risking your life being a part of this society of ours.”

“But why? It hardly seems fair that I’m being kept in the dark,” she scoffed back, leaning back against the black leather, her hands coming up to grip the arms of the chair.

“I agree. But, in her defense, your mother had very good reasoning to make the decision she did. Our life, this existence of ours, is a complete mystery to the outside world,” he stood up, walking over to the grand window behind him. “People have been trying for years upon years to dig up the truth. There’s no telling what kind of acts will be made against us if they ever find us, so over the years, we’ve been preparing for any sort of war that could affect us.”

Walking over to one of the many filing cabinets that lined one wall of the office, he opened one of the drawers that seemed to be labeled Athena, skimming through the multiple manila folders before pulling a specific one out, closing the metal cabinet shut behind him. He sat back down in his own chair, keeping the folder closed on the desk before he continued his explanations. “We’ve had multiple threats over the years, claiming our secret would be revealed to the world. If the world were to ever find out, we could be executed and wiped off the face of the earth, or maybe held captive for the enjoyment of ignorant people. It would leave the gods no choice but to wreak havoc on the planet.

“One night before you were born, there was a threat against us, and your half-brother, Mikael, was sent to settle the situation. Unfortunately that night he was killed, and your mother took it very personally as any mother would. Just a couple weeks later you were born, and she didn’t want another child of hers to live their life with risk or in secrecy. She wanted you to have a so-called normal upbringing,” he finished, opening the folder that had been kept shut, turning it to face her direction. A small picture of a smiling young man was clipped to the corner of a page, the name Mikael printed on the tab.

Calista felt a sudden wave of sadness flush through her at the mention of a half-brother, seeing his smiling face that she never got the chance to greet. As she looked over the few papers in this folder briefly, she learned that her brother used to be of high status here, ranked as General Combatant along with his multiple skills and achievements. She swallowed as she never imagined herself achieving such superiority amongst everyone here, especially with her late start.

She only grew more frustrated as she hastily closed the folder, placing it back down on the table. “A normal upbringing? Do you know the kind of life I’ve lived? It was anything but normal. I’m sure I would’ve had a better chance at normal here, then anywhere else,” she rolled her eyes, her jaw clenching as tears threatened her waterline.

Normal is all she wanted. A normal family, with normal friends, and a normal life. Instead she’s practically been to Hell and back, and the scars imprinted in her brain and on her skin is the evidence of that. She understands her mother’s decision, because it must be hard losing a child and running the risk of losing another, but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck. Calista has been dealt the shittiest cards, and knowing she was cheated out of a better hand twists her heart and constricts her lungs.

Standing again from his chair, Mr. Cirillo walks over to the door of his office, opening it and looking back to the depressive demigod, “Let’s go for a walk.” Calista says nothing as she follows him, eyes focused to her shoes as her mind swirls with countless thoughts of never being good enough. When she looked up to look at the multiple paintings and portraits lining the walls, her stomach sank further as she saw what could’ve been her life.

She could be grateful for knowing now rather than never, but since she found out now when her life was getting better, it only hurt her more. If she found out before, she would’ve seen it as a saving grace, but now it only seemed like a burden.

They made their way outside to the courtyard, the building guarding the blooming flowers and small ponds filled with various fish. A few others were scattered around, sitting at benches or small tables and talking amongst themselves, not paying any attention to Calista and Mr. Cirillo. 

Their walk was at a slow pace, silence surrounding them except for the smaller chatter from the other people, the beauty of the sun beaming down on the spacious greenery engulfing their minds. She understands why he wanted to take a walk, because breathing in fresh air helped cool her mind just long enough for her to regain her somewhat stable composure. 

“I know your life was hard,” he began again, looking down at the Calista, his hands tucking into the pockets of his slacks. “And I deeply apologize for everything you’ve been put through, I wish there was something I could’ve done.”

Calista licked her chapped lips, pursing them as she came up with something to say back, because in all honesty an apology means nothing coming from him. The real apology she wants is from Athena, or even her fucking father. “Why now? Why not follow her rules and keep me away?”

“Well, there was another threat against our livelihood. An insider that has anonymously threatened to tell anyone and everyone willing to listen. When I told the gods, your mother, Athena, advised it was time to… She said you’d be a great leader like your brother once was,” he smiled softly, eyeing her reaction as she looked at the olive tree, sitting in the center of the courtyard.

“I’m not a leader,” she responded softly, taking her gaze off of the plant and back down to the laces of her boots. “From what I saw, Mikael was an honorable person, and I’m far from that.”

“And from what I’ve gathered, is that despite the horrible schools you went to and the awful people you’ve met along the way, you were still one of the highest in your class and was awarded a full ride scholarship to Cambridge. Even with setbacks, you pushed through with determination. I’d say that’s pretty honorable,” he quipped back, sitting down on the bench that was beneath the giant tree.

All she really felt at this point was confusion. She wants to be able to call this place her home, and maybe even call these people her family, but they’ve been doing fine for years without her, she just doesn’t understand why all of a sudden it was necessary to tell her. Getting an A on a test was a whole different game compared to being a leader in a war. Aside from breaking a girl’s nose, she had no ability to fight or any sort of strategy at all to be able to hold her own. Her being involved felt more of a burden to everyone else, and she’d probably get herself killed almost immediately.

“I just don’t see how I’m of any use. I don’t have experience like Trinity or Wren, or anybody here. I’ll probably end up running around like a headless chicken.”

He laughed at the small joke, raising his hand up to squeeze her shoulder. “Like I said, with determination you’ll push through.”

The reminder of Trinity telling her to surpass Wren from last night came to mind, a little ounce of this determination sparking through her, but it was quickly diminished as she thought of the actual process of conquering that. She wants to be the underdog like in all of those movies she’s watched that beats the bully in the end, but those are movies, and as much as this doesn’t feel like real life, it is and that’s not how everything works. She can try, but that doesn’t mean she’ll be successful and if she’s not successful she’s afraid she’ll be a disappointment and then that disappointment feeds into her anxiety of never being wanted by anyone and it’s this constant cycle in her beaten and bruised brain.

On the other hand, she can’t just tell Mr. Cirillo no, because then she’ll probably end up disappointing him and sending herself into a subcycle of unwarranted thoughts. She wishes everything right now had a clean cut answer as to what she should do, but she’s stuck in her thoughts, feeling as if she’s being pulled down by rapid quicksand, not giving herself enough time to mull over everything properly.

Looking up through the leaves of the olive tree, admiring the sun that peaked through the greenery above her, coating her face in a dull glow, Calista said one last thing to Mr. Cirillo before they would go on their separate ways as she would take time to think about everything alone.

“Do I ever get to meet her?”

Mr. Cirillo sighed, a look of solemn etching across his features. That was her answer alone, but she still acknowledged the words that tumbled out of his mouth. “It’s a rarity that they make an appearance.”

Calista nodded, getting up off the bench and ready to make her way back inside and hopefully find the way back to her room. Mr. Cirillo reached for her wrist, holding her in her place for one more moment, “But she’s always looking after you, Calista.”

And with that, she walked away, holding back her tears until she collapsed on the sheets of her bed.

❊ ❊

Hours had passed since her meeting with Mr. Cirillo, and she had made no progress towards processing everything that’s been relayed to her. She tried falling asleep to dull the headache beating through her skull, to give herself a moment to breathe before she would fully understand everything at hand. 

Trinity had offered her support, but Calista felt it was better to be alone at this time, just so she would have no distractions and so she could wallow in her own thoughts. And while at first being alone seemed to help, after a while, she was in need to vent and discuss all of the problems soaring through her head to her best friend.

Thing is, her problem just lies in the fact that everything had been kept secret from her for so long. Who’s to say this all would’ve been revealed to her if there hadn’t been this apparent threat? Would her best friend have continued to lie to her for the rest of their lives? 

Why should she maybe put her life at risk for people that she hardly even knows?

Everything just relates back to her anxiety over never being good enough for anyone, which would prove why she’s lived such an awful life considering she wasn’t good enough to be her rightful title of demigod. She understands it was done to protect her wellbeing, she just wishes that’s the way her brain would take it. Instead, she’s thinking the worst because that’s how she was raised; Expecting the worst.

When Trin finally came back to the room, she could tell something was off with Calista as she saw her friend in the same curled up position on her bed since she left. “Lis, everything okay?”

First there was no response or any sort of movement, then she heard the small whimpers leaving the girl’s lips, and immediately she was crawling into her bed, cradling her to her chest, doing her best to help ease her pain.

“I just wish I could shut my brain off for one minute,” she cried, clutching onto her friend’s hand that had wrapped around her front.

“What’s going on inside that head of yours?” Trin murmured, pushing the loose curls from her friend's face and behind her ear. 

Calista calmed herself for a moment, rolling over to face Trin, eyes red and cheeks blotchy as she sniffled, bottom lip quivering slightly. “I-I want to see the good in this, but all I can think a-about is how I wasn’t good enough from the start and how I’m not good enough now.”

“What’re you talking about? What did you talk about with Mr. Cirillo?”

Calista relayed everything she was told to Trinity, even delving into the topics that are her insecurities just so her friend can understand a little more about what’s going on inside this head of hers. She had a chance at a family, and friends, and people who related to her, but that was stripped away from her. She has a life she never knew existed and she has no guide book to understand how to go about it all, not to mention it’s a life that isn’t exactly supposed to exist at all. 

Is she meant to live up to her past brother’s legacy? If she doesn't, is she just going to be forgotten about? 

If her mother is always looking after her, how could she let her daughter go through everything she has? 

So many questions that no one has an answer to, and it’s so exhausting.

Trinity didn’t interrupt once, letting her best friend vent to her as she sat patiently. She was once where Calista was, but of course she doesn’t know how she’d exactly take it all in if she had found out so much later in life. As an adolescent, it was so cool finding out her heritage, knowing she was meant for better than just her stuck up dad and stepmom. And she knows how Calista is with trusting people and their intentions, that’s why it took her awhile to warm up to her. So she completely understands her worries about everything too good to be true considering her past.

Being here, though, at Mythology, is where she belongs. And Trinity will do her very best to try and convince her so. When they first met, and Calista told her that she was studying the classics, she knew it was fate and that her role here as Athena’s daughter is meant to be.

And one way to help guide her friend is through the bonfire this night. The annual bonfire before the announcements of the Leaderships. Trinity is convinced the bonfire will help persuade Calista into staying here, because once she spends one night with all of these people that come to be family, she won’t ever want to leave again.

Or, so she wishes.

❊ ❊

“I’m not so sure about this, Trin.”

There was a lot of convincing in order to get Calista to leave their room for the bonfire. After Trin sat and listened to her, she felt a little better getting everything off of her chest that’s been setting up camp. Though, Calista could feel their friendship going down a more comfortable path toward recovery as she expressed her concerns.

She’s not exactly warmed up to everything yet, but the more she vents and talks to Trin who went through a not exact but similar process with being thrown into this new lifestyle, Calista can feel herself wanting to get to know this part of her life a little more.

She’s still struggling with trusting all of these people, but that’s where the bonfire comes in and why Trin believes it’ll help her. As an observant best friend, she saw the way Calista was talking to Harry and even Niall, as if they were her friends she had known for years. Granted she has known Niall for some time, but not in the way she’s known Trin. And Harry she’s known for all of twenty minutes, yet she was laughing and smiling as if she knew him since they were children.

If the bonfire can bring out more of that, then Calista will surely want to stay and be around at least for a little while longer.

Though, for Calista it felt a little like the first day of school as she scrounged through her suitcase to find something suitable to wear. It wasn’t the hottest night yet it wasn’t exactly cold, so really that left her at square one. And Trin wasn’t any help as she sat on her phone waiting for her friend to make a decision. But, Calista just followed suit with her and put on a sweatshirt and shorts along with a pair of her worn down sneakers. It also didn’t help that her ruthless curly hair was like a nest sitting on her scalp. Her best bet was a semi decent ponytail that at least kept her hair out of her face.

Trinity finally looked up from her phone, “It’s gonna be fun. It’s basically tradition, and you can’t skip tradition.”

“It’s not exactly my tradition though, so maybe I’ll just pass.”

With a roll of her eyes, Trinity stood up from her bed and grabbed onto her friend’s wrist and led her out of their room. “Well, let’s make it your tradition then.”

They both eventually wound up outside and in the large field that expanded for acres of land, the moon glistening over them as they walked further until they reached multiple people laughing and dancing and talking as a fairly big fire sat between them all.

Immediately, Calista’s eyes were drawn to the force that is Harry as a guitar sat on his lip as he sang some song, joking around with the people around him. Niall was over with them too, and once he spotted them, he ran over to hug the both of them before encouraging them to join the little circle of people.

“Everyone, this is Calista,” Niall introduced as he sat back in his previous seat. Unsurprising, there was a single seat open next to him that was clearly meant for Trin, which she so graciously sat in, leaving Calista to stand alone, full of awkwardness.

The few people greeted her with a wave, insistent she sit down with them. A little reluctantly, she sat between two people she had yet to meet, but would come to know their names are Sarah and Mitch.

Even though she was in a circle of people that all seemed to be like good people, it was one of those moments she felt so alone. She’s never really known how to bond with new people because she hardly ever purposely tries to talk to them, and now seems like a good time to break out of her bubble a little, but she’s afraid of the pending rejection from the lot.

They all seem really nice, yet her brain craved the worst of people so she doesn’t have to get hurt later on.

Looking around at everyone else that was outside of this little circle, it was hard not to notice Damien and Wren at the center of everyone else’s attention, doing whatever the hell it is that they’re doing. When Wren had turned her head slightly and made eye contact with Calista, she smirked in her usual cynical manner, which Calista just scoffed at, turning back around to the group with her.

When turning back around, she made direct eye contact with Harry, who was listening to whatever Niall was talking about, yet didn’t seem like he was paying attention as he kept his attention on Calista. She felt her cheeks heat up and most likely redden under his gaze before she broke the contact and looked to her hands.

Getting up from her spot abruptly, she announced she was getting any kind of drink that was over in the coolers, offering to anyone who wanted but they all declined. Though when she walked over to the red and blue coolers, one labeled water and the other labeled alcohol, she felt a presence following her.

And then Harry stood next to her, sans guitar now.

“Still adjusting?” He asked, reaching into the water cooler and pulling out a fresh and cool bottle, one for him and one for her since he saw her reaching for one.

Cal nodded, softly laughing at the question. “That’s an understatement.”

There was a sudden silence over them, neither of them talking for a brief moment but listening to the chatter of everyone else, or the crackle of the bonfire, or the hum of music that was floating into the night sky. When she finally gained the courage to look up and meet his eyes, she saw him already looking at her, entranced by her shy personality yet strong attitude. “I didn’t know until I was seventeen. M’mum kept it from me. Said it was for my own good or summat, but I was pissed. Felt like m’whole life was a lie. Gets easier though, trust me.”

She was taken aback at the sudden confession, her lips parting slightly as she looked at him with slight confusion. Out of everything that could’ve come out of his mouth, she really wasn’t expecting that, because it also felt like he somehow knew what was going on inside of her mind.

“How long till it starts getting easier?” she questions, taking a sip of her water, appreciating it’s cool texture sliding down her throat.

He nods, sitting down on a chair that was outside of the little group from before, an open seat next to him that she’s meant to sit on. “We all handle shit differently so m’not sure, but sometimes even now I have to take a step back and think about everything and I’ve been here for six years.”

Before Calista has a chance to ask him something else, a different voice butts in. The look on Harry’s face as he saw who was approaching them only solidified that she knew who it was.

“Aw, have we got a pair of little lovebirds already?”

Calista didn’t bother to look to her right as Wren stood tall and proud, looming over the two of them like a cloud, ready to rain down on them. The fire lit up her face in such a way that looking up at her made her seem nearly demonic, and if she wasn’t already in a bad mood, she would’ve laughed at the irony. 

A faux smile stretched across her thin lips as she stood with her arms crossed, drink in her hand as she looked between the demigods. “Can’t even let the poor girl settle in for a day before you’re trying to jump her bones.”

“Fuck right off, Wren,” Harry sneered back, getting up from his seat to tower over the shorter girl.

This is when Damien decided to step up, placing himself between his girlfriend and his enemy, glaring at Harry with his dark eyes, jaw clenched so hard his teeth were probably close to shattering. Calista was a little nervous as the air around them grew tense, though luckily it didn’t seem like anyone else was paying attention to this little quarrel. Harry didn’t seem fazed in the slightest by the beefcake in front of him, an indifferent facial expression locked on his features.

“What?” Harry asks, tilting his head slightly, “She’s just jealous m’not talking to her.”

Damien goes to shove Harry instantly, but just as fast, Harry deflects his aggression and instead is able to push Damien back, causing him to trip over the leg of a chair behind him. Calista rolls her lips together to avoid bursting out into a fit of laughter, completely in awe of how Harry turned the situation around.

Guess Trinity and Niall were right when they said Damien sucks ass.

Wren didn’t even seem surprised at the turn of events. “Jealous? Oh, please, don’t think so highly of yourself.”

Calista looked over to Trin and saw how she was standing up, looking curious as to what was going on with the four. They made eye contact and spoke without any words, both of them concluding they had no idea what was going on.

“I just came over to wish her luck in Leaderships. Hope she doesn’t get herself killed and all that,” she conceded, her hands coming up in defense. Though, her confession wielded a taunting undertone that was clear as day to Calista, because all her life she’s dealt with people and their fake spouts of truth just so they seemed like the good guys.

This urged Calista to scoff, “Bullshit.”

Wren’s head snapped towards the new girl, eyes squinting a little as she skimmed over her sitting stature. “Excuse me?”

Throughout the course of this whole day, Calista had been wary about her place here, and whether or not she wanted to stick around or call it a day and go back to her normal. The idea of these Leaderships was practically nauseating to think about, and she wasn’t even sure if she wanted to take part in them. But hearing this girl talk about them, pushes her to stay and just kick her ass into next year. She’s not all that confident that she’ll be able to do so, but like Mr. Cirillo said, the determination will push her through.

“What’re you wishing me luck for? Wishing me luck insinuates me coming out on top, and we all know you want to keep your status, so I call bullshit,” she shrugs in response, unscrewing the cap to her bottle and taking another sip. From the distance, Calista could hear Trin cheer her on.

“Thanks though. Although, I think he,” she points to Damien who is only just now getting up from the floor, “needs your luck more than I do.” Wren stared in shock and anger, fists clenching and unclenching as her one eye twitched before she eventually huffed and stormed off, leaving Damien to catch up to her.

Calista waved goodbye, letting out a breath of air she hadn’t realized she’d been holding in. There’s something about Wren that brings out this confidence in her, that if she wasn’t such a bitch, she’d want to thank her. Again, aside from that one girl’s nose she broke, she never really stood up for herself or for others.

So, maybe this whole Greek life was actually going to do some good for her in the end.

❊ ❊

Another night, another extremely restful sleep.

Though, another day, another rendition of unwarranted anxiety.

Sleeping through one more night, Calista had come to the decision that she was going to stay. After everything that had happened with Wren at the bonfire, the night went a lot more peaceful, and Cal understood what Trinity meant when she said the bonfire was going to help. 

Getting to know these people and hearing all of these stories of their arrival into this life, and the stories since they’ve been here, helped ease a lot of the tension stirring around in her brain. It sparked an interest to make her own memories and the hope that maybe these people aren’t so bad like her thoughts are trying to make her believe.

After she had woken up, Calista headed to Mr. Cirillo’s office again to announce the news, stating that she’ll regret leaving more than staying and hating it.

Plus, how bad could it actually be?

Well, the answer to that is actually pretty bad.

Not exactly in a bad way, but she never would’ve expected all the exhausting effort she was going to have to put in.

After her second talk with Mr. Cirillo, Calista was ushered to the main hall where everyone was gathering for the official announcement of the Leaderships. Walking into the room, she could see these charts full of names, and at a quick glance she saw Wren’s name in the very first spot on the female side, and Harry’s on the male. It wasn’t much of a shock to see her own name all the way at the bottom considering she’s new and all, but it made her all the more hell-bent on sliding up to the top.

Everyone seemed eager to get back into the work of things, all of them super hyped that they were back. Being here was mostly a summer occurrence, so because they weren’t here all year round, to everyone it was super exciting to be back with the people they care for, doing the things they love.

All of the elders stood at the front of the room, going over the discourse about this threat of maybe an inside source. Everyone seems slightly peeved at the fact they don’t know who the rat is, looking around warily at one another. Some even had the audacity to look at Calista with disdain, as if her being the traitor makes any sense at all considering she just found out about this place two days ago.

When it was all over, Cal was whisked away by Trin, accompanied by Niall of course, as they took her outside and to some secluded part of the forest that expanded into an open area, away from everyone else. The sun gleamed through the leaves of the trees surrounding them, coating them in a golden mask of fresh air. There’s also a little pond just a little down further, which Niall says helps him out when he’s out here for various hours, day after day. 

There were targets lined up against trees that had been chipped away from what she can assume was constant arrows being stuck inside of it. There were a few racks of different weaponry that stood tall beside the targets that were covered under a tarp to keep them out of harm's way of the weather.

The nerves were itching up Calista’s spine as she looked at the daunting swords and bow and arrows, and other types of metal she had no idea what to call. “I don’t even think I’ll be able to hold anything without dropping it like an idiot,” she grimaces, a wry smile on her face as she traces the intricate design etched into the handle of the first sword.

“It takes some getting used to, but you’ll get the hang of it,” Niall comforted, walking over to one of the vacant benches and tying up the laces to his shoes that had come undone. “Plus you’ve got the best of the best on y’side, it’ll be like a piece of cake.”

Calista scrunches her eyebrows in disagreement, a mental image of her cutting off her arm or even her head coming to mind as the sharp edges of the swords and knives glimmer in the sunlight. The least threatening of the various weapons was the bo staff that stood perched against the wood rack, its blunt ends that weren’t met in metal seeming to be the easiest to handle. Though, the spear that sat beside it caught her eye too, as she thought of her mother, and how the spear is known to be her weapon of choice, accompanied by a golden shield. 

Off in the distance was the sound of someone walking towards them, the sounds of the pavement crushing beneath their shoes. All three of them turned to the sound coming from the side, and were greeted by Harry’s face as he whistled his way into their line of vision.

His black t-shirt was rolled at the sleeves and a red bandanna was snugly tucked into his hair as it pushed back the few curls that tended to fall onto his forehead. His tan skin glowed as his tattoos sat contrast on his arms. Calista was envious of how he looked so good doing absolutely nothing, and if she didn’t have any better self-control, she’d probably be drooling right now.

“G’morning,” he smiles at them, hands on his hips as he stops in front of the three. But, he then turns his attention undividedly onto Calista, a little glimmer of amusement sparking across his eyes as he asks, “Ready for some fun?”

“I highly doubt it’s gonna be fun,” she drones back, bending over to wrap her hair up into the best bun she could manage.

When she stood back up tall, doing a few final adjustments to her hair, she realized Trin and Niall were walking back in the original direction they had come from, leaving behind her and Harry. She was beyond confused, calling out to them and wondering where they were off to, only to receive back a curt response of, “Harry works better alone, so we’re gonna head back,” and then they were gone. 

Now, Calista doesn’t know Harry all that well, and now she’s scared he’s here to murder her, deep in the woods where no one would be able to hear her scream. He’s got plenty of methods to do so right beside them, and she’d be lying if she said her heart rate didn’t pick up a little bit. And she’s a little confused as to why she wasn’t told this in the first place.

“Are you wondering if I’m going to murder you?”

Calista pursed her lips, shaking her head slowly, “Pfft, what? No.”

“I don’t usually work with anyone. I like to stay in my own headspace away from everyone so I can stay focused,” he elaborated to their friend’s previous statement before they walked away completely.

“So… why’re you here with me then?” She retorts, arms crossing over her chest in more of a nervous manner than a confident one. The small thought that he wanted to be there because of her crossed her mind briefly, but a louder, more dominant notion danced all over that, screaming in her face that no one would ever do anything just to be near her. Especially not him. 

He cocks his head to the side, eyes squinting slightly as he analyzes the features of her face, his own arms crossing together as a smirk worms up the side of his face. Calista felt small under his gaze, fearing he was reading her thoughts like an open book like he did the night before.

Little did she know, he is there for her. He’s so infatuated with the thought of getting to know the ins and outs of her, needing to know what exactly makes her, her. It boggles his mind how she seems so reserved, keeping to herself as she fights the thoughts running around her head, yet can turn around and become a strong willed woman the moment someone like Wren comes storming around. 

Harry likes to train by himself, finding it easier to concentrate and better himself when he doesn’t have eyes watching him and analyzing every one of his moves. Plus, he likes the thrill of surprising everyone when he learns a few new tricks to tuck up his sleeves when Duels come around. But, he’s willing to work with Calista, to bend a few of his rules if it means she’ll break down a few of her walls. 

“There’s a first for everything, Darling.”

[pomegranates-and-blood]

Sieghild’s Prayer, Part 1 (νοσταλγία Alt PoV)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader (kind of)

Summary: Sieghild reminisces about her life as the Priestess’/Reader’s mother, as she prays to the Goddesses she knows will answer.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: I don’t think many of the usual ones apply to this one. Death, mentions of it and death by burning if we are specific; but I don’t think many more. My horrible writing is one too but that’s part of the usual warnings too lol

A/N: The quote on the board/header is by Margaret Atwood on ‘two-headed poems’. As for the writing, there’s also something to credit: the poem/italic thingy is a piece by Edna St. Vincent Millay (Prayer to Persephone), that you can find here.

I don’t recommend reading this before chapter 12, ‘cause spoilers. You’ve been warned :)

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius​ @heavenly1927​ @toe-vind-ek-jou​ @xbellaxcarolinax​ @pieces-by-me​ @angelofthorr​​ @samsationalwilson​

“You know me.” The King boasts, and Sieghild purses her lips.

“I would know Aslaug’s eyes anywhere.” Is all she gives as an answer. Kráka, the Danish men knew of her beauty and her magic, the women knew of her loneliness and her loss.

At the mention of his mother, the boy’s stance and expression tighten to a coil. He looks back at the shieldmaiden’s eyes and cocks his head to the side.

“What are you here for, hm?”

She prays she is not failing this quest; she prays the Gods are truly behind this. Let it be Freyja or let it be Persephone, but let her rest assured her daughter is looked over when Sieghild herself cannot do so.

She prays, and without much preamble states, “My daughter, I know you want her.”

“Your daughter?” The King mocks around a dismissive laugh, “And who is this daughter of yours? What’s her name?”

“You don’t know it. She doesn’t give it away easily.” The shieldmaiden is quick to retort, a small twitch in her nose that in her younger years would have been a snarl of anger. But the flare of recognition in Ivar the Boneless’ eyes is enough for her, enough for her to know that the Greek faced one of the most feared men in the known world and still acted as stubbornly and arrogantly as she knows her to act.

And it is enough for the shieldmaiden to know that, to her daughter’s salvation or downfall, it only makes the Viking all the more interested in having her to himself.

The King remains silent, looking coldly at the redhead for a few moments. But Sieghild holds his gaze, she has no qualms about rising to meet the eye of Kings, never has. And neither does her daughter.

“She’s not of our own.”

“She is still mine,” She retorts easily, as certain of this as of the Gods’ might. “I raised her, and I am the one that can offer her hand.”

The shieldmaiden bites back a smile at the way her words make the King falter.

“Her hand?”

“Stithulf cannot offer her marriage to you as an arrangement, for he has no claims on her blood or her family,” She explains, “She is free, and she is mine.”

“And you would be willing to give her up?” The boy inquires, piercing eyes searching hers, in them the very real threat of causing her a world of pain if she is to try and toy with him. When she nods, he pushes, “To me?”

“I do not want to, but…tis Fate that I do so.”

The King leans back on his seat, fingers by his mouth as he breathes deeply. Sieghild keeps her face impassive as she faces him.

“Fate.”

“Son of Aslaug, you more than I know of Freyja’s ways,” She answers without hesitation. “My daughter does not worship our Gods, but she does believe. And…maybe because of our Gods’ will, maybe hers, but her fate lies in Kattegat. I know she is to be left to you,” It hurts to admit this, it hurts like it did when she remembered the Seer’s words in that battlefield, when the foolish boy that once was promised her hand died in her arms and the world shifted one last time. Deciding not to dwell on it, the shieldmaiden pushes through, “And you know this too, don’t you?”

The arrogance, the pride, the satisfaction in the way the man now squares his shoulders, straightens himself in his seat does not surprise her; the spark of hope, of something innocent and fragile as he meets her eyes, that does. It also soothes at a part of her that has always hoped for a good life for her daughter, to see the man underneath the monster.

“Make your promise before the Gods and a witness then, shieldmaiden.”

A young man she assumes to be another son of Ragnar enters when the King calls for him, and after a few exchanged words, she is asked to make her vow.

With a deep breath and hoping this does not become one more of her regrets, the shieldmaiden vows, “May the Gods know Sieghild Vorsdottir, first wife to King Rorik, gives her only daughter to you, Ivar the Boneless, son of Ragnar Lothbrok.”

Be to her, Persephone.

All the things I might not be;

The child cries at night, she knows. She knows, but she does not know how to comfort her, how to promise her it will all be better when Sieghild herself does not know it yet.

The shieldmaiden struggles with the burden of caring for a girl with such light to her, with such gentleness and warmth. For all the grief and agony, that girl that is a daughter to so many remains enduring, even if with the stumbling optimism of a wide-eyed child.

“Look, Sieghild!” The girl calls in a giggle, appearing from behind a group of merchants with a bat in her small hands. The child looks down at the animal that burrows into her touch, and says, “They are sleeping now, they move at night.”

“I know, child,” The shieldmaiden offers, uncertain, inexperienced. But the girl does not mind, and when her eyes rise to meet Sieghild’s, the warrior finds herself smiling back, even if brokenly and unevenly. It is with careful approach, the gentleness of acting as a mother forced upon a woman used to being callous and harsh, that the shieldmaiden says, “They are messengers of Hödr, son of Odin, did you know?”

The child’s answer is instantaneous, “No, I haven’t met your Gods,” The strange phrasing makes a chuckle leave Sieghild’s lips, but she still brings a hand to rest in the girl’s head as she returns the bat and starts walking once again by the warrior’s side. After a few moments of silence, Sieghild feels big and curious eyes on her, and lowers her gaze to find a child’s hopeful expression. “Tell me about Hödr?”

She nods, and starts relaying the same tales she was once told, when her hair was wild and feet wet from the sea. And the child listens, eyes wide and smile easy past the agony of loss and the heat of repression.

And later that night when they have settled around the dying bonfire, Sieghild tells her about Freya’s magic, and her ways of war and love, the girl rests her head on her hand, looking up into the green eyes of the woman that takes care of her now.

“Do your Gods talk to you, Sieghild?”

“Sometimes, they aid me,” The shieldmaiden answers slowly, “Why?”

“Could you…ask Freyja something for me?” The child’s voice wavers, and she looks unbearably innocent and afraid. A burden no child of less than seven moons should have to carry. The redhead nods quietly, and the girl whispers, “Why did this happen?”

“You want my Gods to answer that?”

The child shrugs, “Mine haven’t.”

It is with a heavy sigh that the shieldmaiden leans forward, putting a hand unused to gentleness as gently as possible on the child’s face, and pressing lips that know only the taste of blood to seal a kiss on the Greek’s head.

“Suffering is just suffering, little one,” Sieghild whispers, her name and her story know this better than anyone, “If it is the Gods’ or the Fates’ will, I cannot know. What isn’t in the Gods’ hands is how you choose to act now.”

“What do you mean?”

The woman puts a finger on the metal amulet depicting the Twelve Olympians alongside the Gods of their Underworld, hanging from the child’s neck as a stubborn promise to keep her home, her legacy, close to her heart.

“You cannot choose what will happen to you, but you can choose how much you will let it change you.”

Like being a mother, Sieghild thinks. She never asked to have the girl with the fiery eyes and relentless spirit under her wing, seeking her guidance; but she has her now, wide eyes and tongue with unending questions.

And she chooses to let it turn her into what this child needs: a mother. Maybe not the gentle, poised, elegant one she once knew, but the one that can teach her the ways of the world, that can teach her to stand tall, to never bite her tongue.

That night, when they settle in the tent, Sieghild catches herself reaching with rough and war-torn fingers to soothe over the unfamiliar tresses of the girl’s hair. The child quietens, and a murmur of thanks in the language the shieldmaiden has been teaching her is the last sound in the tent that night.

Take her head upon your knee.

She that was so proud and wild,

Flippant, arrogant and free,

The Viking eyes the girl with curious eyes, but remains silent as she watches her talk in the language of the Roads, still so foreign to her Greek tongue.

“Touch me again and you will not have hands to touch with.” The Greek girl hisses without hesitation, and even if she cannot look at the men in the eye without tilting back her head, even if it is evident that she does not know how to end a life or how to defend her own; the shieldmaiden notices that everyone pauses for a moment.

The child’s parents would be proud, Sieghild hopes, to see their daughter become a woman in her own right, a leader that has not found her people yet, a ruler that needs only to fool a man into trusting her to gain control over the whole Mediterranean.  

“Is that a threat, vixen?” The merchant laughs, the distaste for the people with the Byzantine looks and blood not something Sieghild can blame him for.

“It’s a promise. Now, will you pay me for my work?” The young woman insists, and Sieghild sees every bit of herself in her own youth when the Greek girl straightens her back and looks at the Arabian man in the eye, a challenge and an insult all in one.

The merchant moves for the sword at his waist, but the shieldmaiden is quicker. The edge of her blade finds the man’s neck before he can move to try and attack her child.

“Oh, I should have mentioned I am not alone,” The Greek laughs, a false bravado guiding her steps, “Should I call for the rest of the Varangians, or will my friend here suffice?”

The man eyes her dangerously for a moment, but finally throws the pouch of gold at the girl’s feet, and walks away from her and the shieldmaiden.

“Sieghild, did you see me?” The girl calls forth in an excited whisper, both hands grabbing a hold of the shieldmaiden’s arm. When she turns to look at the Greek girl, she catches the tremble in her frame, the fear still making her mouth tremble.

“I did,” She acquiesces, “Girl, what would you have done if he had chosen to fight? There are no Vikings here to aid me, or you.”

“I know that, but he didn’t,” She answers, delighted in her own madness. “They know better than to pick fights with your people.”

For a moment the shine in her eyes would make Sieghild think her naiveté is born out of her age, but the Greek has the face and body of a woman now, the ambitions of one too.

No, that girl’s light is born out of stubbornness, not innocence.

As they walk out of the house and towards the road once again, horses at their sides and a world ahead of them, Sieghild asks her,

“Where do you want to go now, little one?”

“Where would you take us?” The girl asks instead, a shine in her eye the shieldmaiden hopes she never loses.

After a breath, Sieghild answers, “I would take you back to my home. The Danes would be beautiful by time we arrive.”

“I thought you never wanted to return.” The Greek argues, but in her eyes her mother sees the glint of curiosity, the pull to agree.

“The world has changed, child. We could find a new life in Scandinavia. Ragnar Lothbrok is rumored to conquer Paris soon, a Danish woman rules over his kingdom, Vikings are stronger than ever before.”

“You sound proud.”

“Maybe I am, or maybe I’m just overcome with nostalgia,” Sieghild concedes, wondering not for the first time if she should tell the child what the Seer of Kattegat once told her of her fated return to the coastal city. Instead, she keeps her eyes on the orange skies ahead, and murmurs, “Maybe the Gods are summoning me home.”

She that had no need of me,

Is a little lonely child

Lost in Hell,- Persephone,

She finds her on the same altar she found her the night the Christians burned her mother. The one sheltered by familiar woods, depicting the Goddess that was half monster and half maiden sitting on her throne.

The young girl is furiously cleaning the dust and dirt from the old stone, reclaiming the altar from the vines and weeds that want it for themselves.

Sieghild knows her child is aware of her approach, but the frantic hands still clean at the old stone, the breaths are still labored, the cries are still muffled past gritted teeth.

“Talk to me, child.”

“They want to make me Hiereia,” The girl breathes out, quickly, as if the words were trapped behind her lips waiting for a chance to come out. It always was that way with her, at the end. All barely-contained enthusiasm and prideful honesty in her tongue. “I have no idea how to be what they want me to.”

“Then don’t.”

“It is not that simple!” The Greek bites out, hands clenched into fists, “They needed me here, I was off traveling the world while they needed me!”

“You are not your mother, so they can stick their needs right up th-…”

“Sieghild, please,” The girl breathes out, almost a chuckle leaving her lips, “I carry her legacy, even if I like to pretend I don’t. They make me Hiereia, they look to me for guidance, they…see her in me.”

“And you are happy with that?”

The girl starts shaking her head, but stops herself. Since arriving into this warm and sunny city, Sieghild realizes, her child seems to bite her tongue so much more than even when facing Arab mercenaries, seems to keep her madness under control even if she didn’t when sailing on a downtrodden ship over the Aegean, seems to carry a heavier burden in her shoulders than when she was left in charge of looking over a village that had fallen to a plague.

And Sieghild cannot help but hate this city for it. Hate this city, its people, its Gods; for asking a free woman to be slave to her past, to her legacy.

The girl finally answers, hesitating, “I…don’t know if I want them to see me at all.”

“What do you want, then?” Sieghild asks, maybe callously, maybe brashly, but her child knows better than to think it is not born out of love.

“Freedom?”

“Are you asking me?”

The Greek shakes her head, and the shieldmaiden watches as she straightens her shoulders, steels her very soul for the storm her desires will bring. A part of Sieghild will always want to protect her, keep the child at her side so that she is certain she is safe from men and power and both combined.

But the other part of her, the part of her that taught the Greek girl to wage war and fight -in her own, strange ways- for what she wants, that part of her longs for the day she sees her daughter rise to the height she is owed.

And the Greek woman whispers, “No. I…want freedom, for my people and for me. I want…would it be wrong to want retribution as well?”

“Revenge?”

The answer is a simple phrase in the girl’s lips, “They took my home from me, mother.”

A few moments of silence, and the Viking offers her the truth she knows, “No, it is not wrong, little one.”

“Then that’s what I want,” The Greek sentences, standing up and facing the statue of her Goddess with a new kind of fire in her eyes, “I want to be free, and I want to make them pay for the chains. No matter what it takes.”

Take her head upon your knee;

Say to her, “My dear, my dear,

It is not so dreadful here.”

She watches from the darkness as they take her child away, as the frail girl with a gentle heart is carried off in chains. The shieldmaiden cannot keep the smile from her weary lips as she watches her walk with the stubborn pride of a noblewoman, the relentlessness her mother left her with, the resilience Sieghild likes to believe she taught her.

Her child’s fire is still there, and Sieghild wonders for a moment if the youngest son of Ragnar knows the kind of inferno he got himself into.

And the Saxons retreat with their debts paid, and the shieldmaiden has no place to go for her home was the warm laughter, the stubborn frowns, the gentle heart of the girl she raised as her own.

Still, she shoulders her axe and starts a path to wherever Freyja may take her.

She dreamed many times of bringing her daughter to Scandinavia, have her see how big the world truly is, past the Silk Roads, past the Greeks and the Arabs, past the Byzantines and their laws.

She dreamed of returning home, having left a wanderer and returning a mother. She dreamed many times of growing old looking over that stubborn child and watching her be happy at the side of a lucky man, of being gifted grandchildren to spoil and teach the ways of the Gods like she taught her daughter, of fighting again or being a rallying voice for young shieldmaidens and communicating again with Freyja the way she has always known: war.

She dreamed of many things, and for many years she has carried those dreams, those old hopes and even older pains.

But now there’s no time for dreams. She greets the faces that recognize her when she arrives in King Angantyr’s hall, trying not to react when an old name reaches her ears.

 ____

So yeah, idk, I hope you liked it.

Thank you for reading, part 2 will be up right after this one, hope you like it. Best wishes! <3

[caithyra]

Don’t think about it...

...Because when you do, the Thieves’ Guild/Nightingale questline just becomes more and more disturbing, and you might just end up feeling sympathy for the guy you have no choice but to kill.

Basically, I am trying to create an abbreviated timeline of Skyrim’s characters’ history just in case I get off my butt and write fanfic, and I ran into this:

Mercer Frey is at most, around 50 years old in 4E 201. I guess this because he lives in the sewers (illnesses flow down with the dung and trash+no sunlight is aging and bad for the health, so if he was older he would probably be sick) and crouches (ages the joints) all his life, yet was spry enough to climb a giant statue and pry jewels that had been in the rock for millennia loose. If he was in his 60s with his lifestyle he likely couldn’t have done that, Skeleton Key or no Skeleton Key (also, not a single gray hair that I could see, so...).

Subtracting 25 years after Gallus’ death, gives us around 25 years old. subtracting at least 3 years of Karliah being a regular Nightingale not on the lamb, because she seems pretty comfortable with the role and the Skyrim locations (and was also the lover of an adult, we get perilously close to underage the further back we push this, and she’d been his “little nightingale” for so long she was obsessed with killing Mercer 25 years later), he would be around 22 years old when she was inducted.

And he was a senior Nightingale, I would guess at least 5 years her senior as a Nightingale.

So when Gallus and Karliah’s mother sold his soul to Nocturnal, he would have been around 17 years old at the oldest. And given how small a margin I’ve given these years, I would guess the more likely age for Mercer’s selling of soul would have been 15 years old.

The thing is, he and Karliah would have been about the same age (as an elf, she looks younger, heck, her grandmother, Barenziah, was pretty spry and popping out her mother at the age of 379, and if Karliah is only as young as Mercer, then Karliah’s mother popped Karliah out when she was around 170+ years old) and as a Breton, he probably matures slower than a regular mannish race without half-elven ancestry (a half-elven Emperor, Cassynder, is remarked upon to have aged “like a Breton” suggesting slower maturity, as he died of ill health and so certainly did not have the lifespan of a Breton).

And on top of it all, the way Karliah’s life plays out in Gallus’ book (Nightingales Vol.2), it seems like her lover and her mother waited until she was an adult before inducting her to give her a better choice, unlike Mercer (who was likely inducted because Karliah’s grandfather died, or because Lorthus, who may or may not have been Karliah’s father, died in Whiterun’s dungeons, and because it needs to be a Trinity and they didn’t think Karliah would have been ready), who was put in the position of selling his soul as a child while pressured by authority figures that it was a great honor.

Not only that, but Frey is not a Breton name. In fact, as a surname, it seems very Nordic, and given that there is no trace of Mercer’s background or parentage and that the highest population of Bretons and Reachmen lives under the thumb of Nords as serfs (and children take the race of the mother) in the Reach and that he picks a second-in-command with a Reach accent...

Yeah, so it seems more like Mercer’s conception may or may not have been consensual. That he somehow ended up in Gallus’ path when he was a very young child (at best, his mother died when he was very young and his father either also died or there was no relationship so he didn’t recognize Mercer, or Gallus kidnapped him), and Mercer grows into his midteens in the guild when the guildmaster and a legendary figure (Nightingale, Karliah’s mother) either convinces him to sell his soul to Nocturnal, or tricks him like Karliah tricked the Dragonborn and Brynjolf.

And then he grows into adulthood and realizes what they’ve done to him (eternal slavery even beyond death, even worse than the Reachmen in the Reach).

Is it really any wonder he “desecrates” Nocturnal’s shrine to live large while he can? Why he kills Gallus when Gallus starts trying to be all moral about it? (Oh, and given the sticky timeline, if Karliah is any younger than Mercer and not the same age or older, her and Gallus’ relationship likely started when she was barely legal after he watched her from her mid-teenage years as her guildmaster and superior; isn’t Gallus a swell, moral guy? Totally a honorable thief!) because he now hates Gallus? Is it any wonder that Karliah is framed when Mercer’s entire life and death has revolved around her and her family/lover?

Notice that for 25 years, he was content taking care of the Thieves’ Guild and only skimming the top of the (dwindling) profits and practically did everything to keep it running (again, I do not believe the Guild fell on hard times because of Mercer, given that their luck is sooo bad that they randomly recruit the Last Dragonborn when it is at its worse. Given how little the other leaders seems to do, it seems more self-inflicted, also given that the Last Dragonborn can fix it all up by doing a bunch of regular quests any thief in the guild, but most especially senior members like Brynjolf, Vex and Delvin, could have done).

Also I would like to point out that Karliah lies or is paranoid when she says that she’s been hunted for 25 years by Mercer’s contacts, given that there is only evidence of him having 3 contacts who would do such a thing, and the Black-Briars knew nothing, the Dark Brotherhood certainly wasn’t wasting their dwindling resources (they were hunted to near extinction 13 years ago and were losing Sanctuaries even before that) on her and the Thieves’ Guild were all surprised she still existed.

Given that Karliah constantly lies about things like this (even Gallus, in his book, contradicts her attributing everything to him, by pointing out that her mother and Mercer were there in the same capacity), she’s likely lying. But then again, Gallus had the gall to lie to my face as a ghost (stating he wasn’t in the Sepulcher when the sealing happened and then stating with certainty what happened during the sealing, even though only Daedric Princes would know enough to make an accurate guess, and even then might be wrong unless they’re Nocturnal herself), so maybe he lied in his book?

But anyway, back to Mercer. So for 25 years he’s been content being guildmaster.

And it is only when Karliah shows up again and escapes his attempt at killing her that he empties the vault and leaves (and again, Karliah was trying to destroy the guild in a more permanent way by angering Maven Black-Briar. At least you can refill an empty vault, you cannot refill the ranks of killed master thieves so easily. Then, when the Dragonborn gives Karliah the option of an in with the guild, she just skates right on in and no one points this out. Either that or her plan was so stupid, she planned, as the known killer of the previous guildmaster, to walk into the guild with the current guildmaster paralyzed over her shoulder waving her boyfriend’s supposed diary in an unreadable language and claim innocence? Also, a thief’s diary that only mentions what she needs us to know but not his great love for his “little nightingale”? Or even just “we danced the horizontal tango yesterday, her mother is angry because she thinks I’m too old for her, fortunately she was killed by mercenaries finding our super secret hideout that only I and Mercer knew about~Time to turn little Karliah into my little nightingale~”).

Like imagine if Karliah moved on from her (creepy) boyfriend and made a life for herself outside Skyrim? The only thing the guild to complain about when it comes to Mercer would be his admin fees (skimming) because no one else have done the accounting for 25 years (looking at you, Bryn and Del, oh and notice how long it took for Gallus to notice? He was guildmaster but did he foist the admin work on Mercer too? On top of selling Mercer’s soul?) and doesn’t want to step up in any capacity to do any of his work (See Guildmaster Dragonborn despite there being three senior leaders left in the Thieves Guild; at the least Companions killed off Kodlak [who dreamed about you] and Skjor and caused a schism on the lycanthropy topic between Aela and the twins before you became the Harbinger who is just a mediator and advisor, and you just arbitrarily becomes the Listener because “Sweet Mother” is a fucking troll who played deadbeat to her “children” for 13 years, and I cannot really justify the Archmage thing, but I can do it much better than the Guildmaster thing).

And there wouldn’t have been any selling of souls to a demonic goddess Karliah calls a “scolding mother” who is more deadbeat than the Night Mother and who, like the Night Mother, keeps you in servitude beyond your death.

But like I said, don’t think about it.

Oh and I’m not the only one who is kind of put off by Karliah’s “specialness” what with being the secret granddaughter of THE Nightingale and Queen Barenziah, and the only Dunmer I can think of without ash-red eyes (even Vivec’s Dunmer half had a red eye, and he was considered as powerful as a god, just to show how all-encompassing Azura’s curse was) and instead have violet eyes, and how everyone praises how smart and skilled she is while everything she does is stupid and failing?

Oh right. I need to stop thinking about this quest-line and the fact that my only choice was killing the child victim of a demonic cult after he grew up and tried to escape for the crime of taking some going-away-money I could replace in five minutes, just to avenge some dude who sells children’s soul into slavery after his girlfriend tricks me into selling mine and... Okay, not thinking about it!

[def-initely-soul]

Burn The Witch {1}

pairing: yoongi x reader (f.)

genre: supernatural; angst; mystery; magical society AU; magicals!AU

rating: PG-15

warnings: violence; emotional abuse; blood; bullying; mentions of murder; mature language

words: 3k

summary:

↠ {a boy who keeps running away, a girl who can’t seem to no matter how much she tries and a series of murders caught all in between of the cracks spread through what appears as a quiet little town…} ↞

or alternatively, not everything is always what it seems

.

.

There’s something distinctively peculiar about little towns. About their alleged serenity and peaceful way of living. About their closed-off shops and their faded-out road signs and billboards left behind simply because no one bothered to replace them. About the undeniable bonds existing between the native-borns and the ex ostracization of anyone that threatened those bonds, or really anyone different. About their so-called hospitality that turns into vicious, violent hatred once that quiet, “peaceful” way of living is put at risk.

Yoongi is bound to feel intrigued, as he drives by the road sign that welcomes him into such a small town. Xefoto its name. Derived from the Greek word for “clearing”, as it was one of the first towns that took in supernatural beings -or magicals if you prefer a different term- and let them build shelter in the clearing in the woods. Back when humans and magicals didn’t get along too well, so their new home had to be founded away from the outskirts of the human town. But as centuries went by, the two small establishments began growing and spreading, until the borders meshed together and humans and magicals learned to live side-by-side.

Yoongi has done his research before moving here. He may have a house he can settle in already, seeing as the Min Vampire Clan was one of the first vampire families to live in Xefoto, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’ll be welcomed here.

Trees pass him by as his eyes never stray from the road, his grip on the steering wheel tight as he taps his fingers on the leather impatiently.

If his research is correct, he just transferred to one of the most prestigious universities for magicals. The “Xefoto University of Magical Arts”, or Xuma for short, has been around almost as long as the town has existed. People Yoongi only ever dreamt of meeting have studied here and the path he’s about to take is only promising in its entirety.

Then why does he feel as if he’s about to lose control of his own life?

His heart thumps once against his chest as he finally drives into town, the gloomy skies seeming like an appropriate welcome.

.

.

Okay, maybe this wasn’t exactly the welcoming he had expected.

Yoongi was ready for apathy for the rest of the student body, even some suspicious glances thrown his way, given he’s an outsider infiltrating their little town’s haven. Instead, from the moment he stepped foot into the academy castle, he’s met with students approaching him to know his name, to befriend him, to know more about him. Girls and boys alike are flooding his path, overly friendly smiles, and kind gestures to the point of feeling overwhelming and Yoongi can't help but hate this sudden interest in him.

He expected -wished even- to be left alone, not this welcoming committee of students following him like a shadow everywhere he goes.

There hasn’t been a course he’s been to today without someone approaching him, interested in getting to know him but it’s not something he welcomes. Most of those students, -or professors in some cases-, are after him only because he’s the new student. Something entirely foreign and simultaneously so much fascinating to people that have known nothing more than what’s inside the premises of their little town. No one is really interested in him as a person and so Yoongi finds all those interactions irritating and weird.

But there is one person that managed to intrigue him.

There’s this fae boy, Jimin. He approaches Yoongi throughout the day.

Although his method might seem to some… unconventional.

Most people that approach Yoongi are really excited to get to meet him. Big, wide smiles, so forceful they almost look hurtful, eyes swimming with excitement and overall people practically throwing themselves at his feet. Although Jimin seems dormant. No skippiness in his steps, no trembling excitement or flashing smiles, no eagerness to get close to him. Instead, a frown masks the fae boy’s features every time he nears the dark-haired vampire boy, slow, dragging steps, as if unwilling to move, as he points Yoongi to the next class or the cafeteria. His words always come out as exasperated grumbles. Yoongi at one point thought the boy was cursing at him, only to realize he was just informing him about lunch hours.

Jimin helps out Yoongi through the school grounds and routine but it seems like the fae is doing it almost by force.

The notion that this might be a prank has passed Yoongi’s mind, but to be honest, Jimin’s tips have proven to be helpful, so Yoongi can’t help but wonder about the blond boy.

Hence, why, when he spots the man in the dining hall, he wastes no time in taking the empty seat next to him.

Jimin’s eyes almost bulge out of their sockets as he regards the vampire sitting nonchalantly beside him. Yoongi doesn’t seem like he pays attention to Jimin as he settles down and goes through his lunch, though his ears are attuned to the fae’s reactions, waiting for the moment the younger man speaks up.

Jimin closes his agape mouth and swallows nervously.

“What are you doing here?”

Yoongi almost laughs at the accusatory tone, finding himself enjoying teasing the other boy, but nonetheless, he remains serious.

“Having lunch?” he cocks an eyebrow.

Jimin huffs in annoyance. “No, yeah, I know, I mean…” he takes an exasperated breath, “Why here?”

“Because it’s the dining hall?” Yoongi barely manages to conceal his laughter as Jimin’s ears grow red.

“I- ugh! I meant why next to me?!” he exclaims out loud, irritation shimmering in his words, though he looks more like a child that’s just been denied ice cream. A slight glimmer appears behind Jimin, at the place where his wings are supposed to be, threatening to reveal themselves.

Yoongi lets out a breath, deciding that was enough teasing.

“Well, to be frank, it feels like you don't particularly like me and yet you still help me around. Couldn’t help but feel curious…” he comments before taking a bite of his medium-rare steak.

Jimin once again remains speechless as he regards the other boy, suddenly feeling ashamed of his behavior. His eyes fall to his lap, biting his lip as he ponders on his answer.

“I… I’m sorry if I made you feel unwelcome, it wasn’t my intention, honestly…” he responds, for once no sign of annoyance in his features, only remorse, and guilt.

“Don’t worry about it. Actually, it was a nice change from being treated like the town’s local rockstar,” Yoongi chuckles, tone casual as Jimin visibly relaxes next to him.

“Oh, yeah, the whole town’s been buzzing since they learned about the new vampire transfer…” Jimin comments, finally seeming to be comfortable around Yoongi’s presence.

“But why?” Yoongi’s voice is full of confusion, not at all understanding why is everyone so enticed by him.

“Well I think being a Min and a vampire might have tipped the scale…” the fae boy says as-a-matter-of-a-factly.

Yoongi’s unimpressed stare makes Jimin reconsider.

“Ah, right… You’re new here…”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jimin rolls his eyes before he speaks again.

“Well, the fact that you belong to one of the oldest vampire families in the world should be enough but this town…”, he pauses, clearly struggling to find a way to put this, “...it’s a little different from other magical colonies…” Jimin begins to explain and Yoongi puts his food aside in favor of something much more interesting.

“I’m sure you’re aware of how the universal hierarchy of magicals works at the rest of the world. At the bottom there are the werewolves, -due to their lack of self-control once they transform-, then demons, then shapeshifters, then mermaids, fae, elves, vampires and on the top there are sirens and… witches,” he speaks the last word in a hushed whisper, something that confuses Yoongi, “due to each species’ control of their respective magic. But here…” the fae boy shakes his head in thought, “the hierarchy is a bit different…”

Yoongi thinks it’s safe to say his attention has been captured.

“You see, 11 years ago an accident happened that killed almost half the town, humans and supernatural beings alike…” Jimin’s voice now becomes quiet, eyes wary as they look around to make sure no one else is listening.

“There was a fire, started right at the witch coven of Xefoto and it spread through the entire town. If it wasn’t for the faes’ help the whole town would have gone down in flames. And even though many people were killed and injured, witches were entirely erased. Only one witch survived and well… it’s pretty much common knowledge between the locals that she set those fires…” Jimin concludes but Yoongi isn’t easily convinced.

“But why? It makes no sense for her to wipe out her entire coven…” he interjects but Jimin simply shrugs.

“No one knows. Rumor has it she was drunk for power and wiped her peers out so she could act freely without her coven interjecting her every decision. Everyone suspects it’s her but some of the evidence was destroyed so she was never caught. Others say she’s cursed…” Jimin responds with wide eyes and Yoongi has an inkling Jimin is one of those people.

But the fae boy continues, undisturbed. “And well… The hierarchy changed after that. Since practical magic was the one that caused everything, it is kind of frowned upon to practice the art of it since most times it’s completely uncontrollable. Natural magic, on the other hand, is completely fine, like faes’, elves’ and demons’. Witches, -or well just this one witch-, is at the bottom of the hierarchy tower.”

Yoongi scrunches his eyebrows. “Even bellow werewolves?” he finds that hard to believe.

But Jimin nods. And Yoongi can’t help but wonder how awful this woman’s life must be. Bellow werewolves? That shit’s hard.

Jimin continues. “So witches dropped and since sirens also use practical magic, they got dragged along with them. Now they’re on the same level as mermaids,” Yoongi shudders at the mere thought. A prideful and vengeful being like a siren being cramped up with mermaids? That can’t be good.

“Fae also rose up due to the help they provided and now rest at the top,” the blond boy explains somewhat remorseful before he keeps going, “... along with vampires.”

Yoongi lets out a sound of understanding at that. That’s why everyone was treating him like that.

“Okay, now everything makes a bit more sense…” he admits, before stealing a glance at Jimin.

“And I guess it explains your behavior towards me, too.”

Jimin's head snaps up, eyes wide with alarm.

“You were forced into befriending me, weren’t you?” Yoongi asks insightfully and Jimin’s ears redden once more.

“I’m sorry. My parents thought it’d be great for our family if I were to become your friend… we may be fae but… we’re not the most prestigious family there is. Not even close…” Jimin sounds resigned as if already expecting the vampire boy to be offended but this. But Yoongi can only nod in agreement.

He knows a thing or two about family expectations.

He sighs before pushing his tray aside, done with his food and he stands up. “So, where does the course for “interspecies rights” take place?” Yoongi asks nonchalantly, even though the boy already knows the way to said classroom. He can’t help but feel a certain level of sympathy towards the fae boy, even if Jimin approached him with a certain agenda in mind.

Jimin looks at Yoongi with disbelief. “I- I’m sorry?”

The vampire turns to look at him with no sign of malice in his eyes. “You’re my tour guide, aren’t you? I expect you to show me around, not just the university but the town as well,” Yoongi explains and Jimin can’t help but look at the boy with gratitude. Then the blond boy stands up as well.

“Follow me.”

.

.

As Jimin walks Yoongi through the academy grounds, the vampire gets to know a little bit more about the quiet fae boy.

Jimin is one year younger, at 22, born and raised at Xefoto but his family, -being one of the few that settled years after the settlement was formed-, isn’t exactly prestigious among their peers. Actually, Jimin’s family, the Parks, have been around no longer than 3 eons, making them almost foreigners in correlation with the other families.

The fae boy is studying to become a Bringer, the magical equivalent of a lawyer. Although Yoongi spots a healing course at the younger man’s schedule that has nothing to do with being a bringer.

But Yoongi doesn’t ask. Everyone has their secrets.

What he also learned is that Jimin has a girlfriend. Actually, scratch that, the exact word used was “betrothed”. Which came as quite a shock to say the least, as when Yoongi first met the blond boy, he thought he was gay. To be honest, though, Sua and Jimin didn’t seem to be exactly enamored with one another.

But, again, Yoongi does not ask.

Instead, he pretends to be interested in the architecture of the castle and not at all observing the slightly suspicious looks Sua is giving him.

“So,” the fae girl exclaims, voice loud and commanding, successfully interrupting whatever Jimin was about to say. The boy effectively swallows his words before deflating slightly. But then, as if it never happened, a mask of excitement takes over his features as he turns his attention to his girlfriend.

Yoongi observes the interaction with hawk-like eyes. And again he says nothing.

Sua smiles brightly before continuing. “Where are you boys planning on going next? Jimin you should show Yoongi around our town! There’s so much to see really!” the girl exclaims enthusiastically and Yoongi fights to conceal the slight frown that threatens to appear. If he had to guess, he’d say Sua supports the Parks family’s decision to force Jimin on Yoongi.

Jimin timidly nods his head before speaking up. “Ah, yes, I was hoping to show him the old town of Xefoto and then grab some drinks-”

Sua gasps excitedly. “That’s a great idea! I’ll tell you what, why don’t you go to Selkie’s Place? They serve some wonderful mashed potatoes - and I can meet you there with some friends, I’m sure you must be dying to meet new people!” she concludes with a grin and Jimin throws an apologetic smile at Yoongi.

Yoongi grinds his teeth. “Yes… dying…”

Sua doesn’t get the sarcasm and squeals before clapping her hands together. “Fantastic! Let’s say eight? Yeah, that’s perfect, we’ll meet you there!” she says excitedly before fishing her phone out of her skirt and walking away almost immediately. Too engrossed in her typing to actually say “goodbye” to the two boys.

Yoongi sends a glare to a fidgeting Jimin. “That’s your girlfriend?”

Jimin sighs. “I know she’s kind of a lot. But she’s nice once you get to know her!”

Yoongi purses his lips before shrugging, it’s not his place to comment on that. “If you say so. So, old town of Xefoto, huh?” he redirects the conversation and Jimin’s eyes gleam in excitement, as they begin walking towards the exit.

“Oh yes! It’s very picturesque, there’s this museum with historic relics and the history of the town, plus the first families that gotten here, the founding of the academy and even-” Jimin rambles on about something he’s clearly into but as Yoongi listens to him he fails to see the person to his left.

This inevitably leads into him bumping into said person, thus spreading the books they’ve been holding all over the marble floors.

He hears a sigh of resignation coming from the girl dressed in all black before she crouches down to pick up her books.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking,” Yoongi explains, ignoring Jimin’s terrified gasp as he rushes to help by picking up the rest of the books. Only to stop when he realizes the girl has stopped as well.

And currently stares at him.

He raises his eyes at her, indignantly, not ready to deal with another person dying to get to know him.

But instead of the heart-eyes look he expects to see, he’s met with big, doe-like eyes that stare at him with unadulterated shock.

Yoongi suddenly forgets the rest of his sentence. What did he want to say anyway? Something foolish and weird for sure and with the way the girl’s eyes are boring into him he can’t help do anything but blink.

There’s something about her, he can’t quite tell. Something about the way her eyelashes flutter, about the parting of her lips as she silently gasps, the roundness of her cheeks and the crystal color of her eyes. They all leave Yoongi breathless. Like she took the air out of the room and he’s left helpless. He could swear he’s been under some sort of spell. But he knows his spells. And this isn’t one.

The girl’s hair falls right into her face and Yoongi has an itch in his fingers, from the sudden urge to reach forward and brush them away to get a better look. 

But that would be weird. Definitely creepy and weird.

Then the girl’s eyes, as if suddenly remembering where they are, move to the person behind Yoongi, Jimin.

Her eyes widen even more and Yoongi swears he sees fear in them.

Fear accompanied by sadness.

That doesn’t sit well with him. As he sees the girl’s eyes moving rapidly away, he has this bad feeling growing in the middle of his chest, warning him, burning him. Like a premonition he’s certain he doesn’t want to come true.

So he speaks up.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

But as soon as his voice reaches her ears, the girl springs into action.

She immediately grabs her books from Yoongi’s hands before taking off instantly, not sparing the two men another glance.

Yoongi’s eyes follow her figure down the hall, speechless. Did he actually creep her out? He couldn’t tell.

The girl disappears behind the gates, hasty in her steps, not bothering to look back.

At that moment Jimin releases a breath, Yoongi only now remembering the existence of the other boy, and he sees the fae being relieved by the girl’s absence.

“What?”

Jimin’s eyes are wide with horror. “God that was close! Do you know who that was?”

Yoongi’s unimpressed stare gives Jimin his answer.

“That was her! The witch!”

Yoongi’s features scrunch up in confusion at that.

The witch? The one that’s supposed to have caused the accident?

Yoongi thought the witch was an old woman for sure. Some recluse, living far away from modern society, deep in the woods, cursing everyone that crossed her path. After all the fires happened eleven years ago.

Realization hits him and his eyes widen in mortification. 

She was only a child.

His stare moves to the gates, already curious about the girl with the black dress that disappeared behind them.

next part: {2}

[goldenkamuyhunting]

Did you start making chapter theories in ch. 179? I would have liked to see your take in the psychology of certain convicts, like Sekiya, Gansoku and Henmi

Actually...

I began a little earlier at around chap 162, but at the time I didn’t really make a rambling post for each chapter.

I’ve also a re-reading series, but I ended up interrupting it at chap 18 (even if I actually wrote it till chap 38) for various reasons.

If you feel like listening to me ramble about those three I don’t mind doing it, just keep in mind it’s not a real psychological analysis. Those take a professional and much more information about their lives than I have at hand and I’m not even sure if Noda wanted to make them THAT psychologically accurate.

So take this more as a character analysis than a real psychological take of them.

For a moment let me group together Henmi and Sekiya as, like most of the characters of Golden Kamuy, they’ve in common they lived a traumatic event that influenced the rest of their lives and became their Freudian excuse.

Mind you, the trope is called Freudian excuse but in Noda’s case often it’s more a Freudian explanation, a ‘why they ended up like this’ a showing that they weren’t just random bad men born evil but once they were just ordinary guys like you and me and then something happened and they reacted to it in the entirely wrong way, turning them in complete monsters. A For Want of a Nail effect, if you want, something happens, and this event has a ripple effect, resulting in massive change in the character changes radically.

So, with this in mind, let’s go dig into those two.

Henmi is the first convict we meet whose life was totally screwed over by a traumatic event.

The previous convicts are:

- Gotou who, according to Shiraishi, murdered his wife and child while drunk, even though I would be more prone, analyzing his interaction with Sugimoto during which he’s friendly and harmless when drunk and attempts to murder him when he’s sober, to assume he was actually not drunk when he did it and merely said he was hoping this would result in a less

- Prisoner n 1, of whom we know nothing about except that he viewed himself as a small fish

- Tsuyama, whom we know is a murderer but not why

- Shiraishi, who’s not a murderer

- Hijikata, who’s actually a political prisoner

- Ushiyama, who killed out of self defence

- Nihei, who just couldn’t let go whose who attacked him but had to take revenge on them.

And then comes in Henmi, who actually has a backstory that explains why he became a monster.

Henmi himself doesn’t consider it an excuse, just his starting point, albeit it’s possible that, had Shiraishi never asked, he would have never wondered why he took that turn.

Henmi saw a board killing his little brother, apparently eating it alive.

We’ve no info on why this incident took place, but this seems to point out Henmi didn’t deliberately cause this.

So really, this is what turned him from an ordinary kid to a monster, so it’s not something he had caused.

Henmi watched this from his hiding spot, meaning he either arrived on the scene, was scared and hid or that both siblings were there but only Henmi managed to reach a hiding place and from there he couldn’t move to help his brother.

Henmi describes his brother’s death vividly. It was horrific, his brother was helpless and it wasn’t even the boar’s fault as the animal couldn’t understand him. Henmi thinks his brother was in a lot of pain and fear, in despair and hopelessness.

But then he says something that clearly leaves into us an impression. He says that each time he thinks at his brother ‘he really, really want to kill somebody, anybody’, and he seems to have an erection as he says so.

Due to this it’s easy to think that Noda is trying to depict him as someone committing ‘lust murders’, murders done by someone who searches for erotic satisfaction by killing someone… by is it really so simple?

Not quite because it’s not murdering someone what turns Henmi on, it’s the idea that this someone will murder him.

Henmi is not identifying with the boar, he’s identifying with his brother.

I’ll go and assume the idea here is that part of the problem here is that when Henmi saw his brother being killed, his body reacted in an inappropriate manner.

When one is scared the body produces dopamine. Some individuals may get more of a kick from this dopamine response than others do as, and according to some studies dopamine can trigger penile erection (though they’re still debating over this but whatever, Golden Kamuy isn’t meant to be a medicine text).

Anyway, in between the trauma to seeing his brother being killed in such a horrific way and his body’s reaction somehow Henmi came up with the idea he wanted to die like him.

We see Henmi doesn’t get an erection when he kills the Yakuza,

just when he thinks to how Sugimoto could kill him. We see Henmi thinks Shiraishi is masturbating to the thought of getting killed, not to the thought of killing someone.

Possibly part of all this is also due to guilt, he just stood there, watching as light died in his brother’s eyes (it’s interesting how he carve the kanji for ‘eye’ in his victims, as if to mark them with his sin) and let his younger brother be killed and even got off by it and that also explains his wish to die. In a way in this he’s similar to Sekiya, who thought he should have been the one who died, and not his little girl.

And it’s interesting Henmi has to think at it, before explaining this is what turned him into what he is, because this hints he tried to forget what he saw, that he buried it inside himself, for him it wasn’t ‘oh, okay, so this is how my brother die so let’s start killing people’, Henmi didn’t try to understand his impulses, he just followed them.

But, long story short, Henmi’s wish to die a beautiful death, like his little brother, lead him to become completely twisted.

Maybe the boar attacked them because they attempted to attack him, that’s why Henmi began to attack people, attempting to murder them in hope they would instead murder him, attempting to recreate what happened with his brother. Maybe if this experience had never happened to him Henmi would have just been an ordinary well-mannered and very sociable guy who helps friends (when Shiraishi sees Sister Miyazawa and follows her Henmi stops the guard from chasing him).

This however wasn’t meant to be.

Henmi flips, develops an obsession on his own death, whom he wants to be terrible like the one of his brother and maybe the second tragedy of his own story is by misfortune he had to kill over a hundred people before he met someone who could give him ‘his beautiful death’, hundred kills he likely felt insensible about because, when you start thinking being killed is the most exciting experience ever, you probably don’t even connect you’re doing something bad, which is also why we can label Henmi as a monster, because he’s absolutely remorseless toward his victims.

Henmi is dangerous, a serial killer that can only be stopped by death… but it would be interesting if we could peek to an universe in which he was never exposed to the trauma of losing his brother and see if in it he could have become an ordinary guy instead.

Oh well, we’ll never know.

Sekiya now as he’s similar to Henmi, yet very different.

While it’s likely that Henmi’s traumatic event or turning point took place when he was young, Sekiya’s traumatic event takes place when he’s a man and, in the volume version, Noda pays special care to it.

We know Sekiya used to be a livestock veterinarian who went around to different ranches in Hokkaido and looked after their horses and things like that.

The traumatic event that ruined his life is well known to the fandom and easy to understand and sympathize with.

Sekiya himself tells it to Kadokura, in a way that mimics a confession.

It was a Sunday morning and he was walking home with his daughter, who was still a toddler, she being right at his side, plodding around.

The images shows us a Christian church and this, combined with how it was a Sunday morning, tell us that Sekiya was probably walking home from Sunday mass.

We see him smile as he watch his daughter, light in his eyes.

Sekiya probably used to be a normal person, likely nothing over the top but what you would easily label good, and probably he felt that since he also has done his religious duty and gone to mass, God should smile down on him and protect him and his family.

(It’s possible he’s indulging a little in the capital vice of pride here… and considering his future actions in the future too)

We never hear Sekiya talking about a wife so it’s possible she died and he had to overcome that loss. Assuming a wife existed and died, he clearly overcome losing her and, evidently, being with his daughter, just watching her walk next to him, gives him joy.

Then something exploded behind him and he lost consciousness. When he wakes up he can only see that his daughter head and feet had been blown apart…. Which should be a pretty horrific thing to watch, especially for a father, but it takes him a while to realize this was due to a lighting having struck her, his eyes losing their light as he realizes this.

Abruptly Sekiya had lost his daughter, in a way that he didn’t even understand at first, a horrible way. She was a beloved child, a reason of joy for him and it could be she was the last member of his family alive.

Now there’s a really common characteristic in humans from various cultures.

Many of them tend to think that the lightning is ‘the weapon of God/a God’.

Wikipedia even have a full page in which they list the various thunder gods from all around the world and the bible too implied God can toss thunders and lightnings.

So Sekiya, man of faith, who believed to be a good person likely blessed or at least protected by his God, is facing such a terrible tragedy just after he left the church in which he probably received the Eucharist, a tragedy that took place by a mean that’s considered by many ‘a weapon of God’, a tragedy that should cause him agonizing pain because losing a child so young should be terrible.

Now… sadly the best thing Sekiya could have done at this point was just to mourn his own child and learn to cope with the pain of her loss, possibly without losing his faith but using it as a crutch in his darkest hour.

Sekiya though, doesn’t find in himself the strength to chose the best option for himself.

Sekiya can’t accept his own disgrace and the way it happened, mourn and move on.

We see Sekiya back in the church, wondering why this happened to his daughter and not him.

Actually he asks himself (or God) why his daughter was chosen and not him.

どうして娘が選ばれたのか… どうして俺じゃなかったのか

‘Dōshite musume ga eraba reta no ka... Dōshite ore janakatta no ka’

His next step, he explains to Kadokura, is to ask himself the following thing:

“Is ‘luck’ the will of God… or does the fact that a man like me was left alive prove that there is no such thing as God?”

「運」とは神の意志なのか…神のような人間を生き残らせるということは神など存在しないのではないか？

‘“Un” to wa kami no ishina no ka… kami no yōna ningen o ikinokora seru to iu koto wa kami nado sonzai shinai node wanai ka?’

It’s this thought that likely pushed Sekiya to test people’s luck over and over, ending up on murdering quite a bunch of people.

Now…

I think part of Sekiya’s problem is that he was a man indulging in the capital vice of pride.

He sounds like he believed he believed he knew how things worked (God would punish the wicked and protect the ones who walk on the right path as hinted in chap 172) and viewed himself and especially his daughter as people who should be protected, blessed by God and just couldn’t accept to be proved wrong when his daughter died, demanded an explanation, deluded himself he could understand what no human had ever understood, God’s plans or that, if he can’t, this would mean God doesn’t exist.

Of course Sekiya’s view about who God would bless and who he would punish is extremely limited as it implies God should murder whoever would deviate by the right path and would protect from everything whoever would remain on it and it doesn’t take a genius to know IT DOESN’T WORK THIS WAY, bad things can happen to good people and terrible people instead might be blessed with good luck.

But part of the problem though is that Sekiya’s obsession with trying to understand why his own misfortune happened to him works as a copying mechanism that distract him from the agonizing pain of his loss.

What’s more it makes him feel as if he has the power to control things.

What Sekiya wanted to get in fact was exactly what he got, for God to protect someone righteous and punish him for not being righteous anymore.

He’s overjoyed when he’s proved right, Hijikata survives to an extremely risky bet and kills him.

Although he says he has great interest in observing how fortune play out in people he’s never delighted when they die. He’s just businesslike, this is done, let’s move to the next.

Instead he’s delighted when he’s proved right even if this means he’ll die… but well, life had probably lost part of his meaning to him, circling about a sick game that couldn’t give him any satisfaction.

Nowadays may countries would have given psychological help to both Sekiya and Henmi after they suffered their trauma, so that they might not have ended up turning into monsters like they instead did.

However, in Golden Kamuy’s time, this possibility didn’t exist and if you couldn’t find by yourself the strength to overcome in the right way your traumas and problems well… no one would be capable to help you.

Most of the cast of GK would benefit from psychological help, Henmi and Sekiya are merely among the people who reacted to trauma in the worst way.

Now… Gansoku… well, the guy is hard to pin.

As far as we know he didn’t have a ‘traumatic moment TM’ that turned him into who he is.

When he explains himself, Gansoku says he expresses himself through violence the same way one would express himself through art but acknowledges this made others hate him as they didn’t understand him, which lead him to get jailed.

Gansoku doesn’t view this as bad as prison was a place busting with violence in which he made friends who were happy if he punched the guards and where he would go on a rampage and could only be stopped by Ushiyama.

His explanation seems to pain the picture of a violent man who can’t control himself and beat people left and right.

However when we met Gansoku we discover he’s a guy who basically promoted the stenka fights by encouraging people to bet on them. He’s a man who doesn’t attack at random but in a fight, can play in a team, tries to understand Sugimoto and helps him with his problems, helps Tsukishima when he’s wounded and can’t walk, can travel with Svetlana and protect her and wouldn’t fight with Sofia because he believed she wouldn’t be up for it.

He just love fighting and make no difference if he’s the one beating others or he’s getting beaten up. As long as he’s fighting someone strong he’s happy.

In short he’s not an uncontrollable abuser but a guy who loves to fight and who goes all out when fighting, a guy who can control himself and even being nice.

I wonder if he ended up in jail for a reason similar to Ushiyama, because he overdo it in a fight or in an argument. He said he was hated so maybe it’s the other people who would start the fight but, due to his superior strength he would hurt them too bad when he would react and end up in jail.

It’s hard to say, he’s undoubtedly strange but, at the same time, as he seems someone who doesn’t attack at random, that’s why he remind me of Ushiyama. But well, we’ll see if he’ll get more development.

For now that’s all I can say.

Thank you for your ask!

[writingthrones]

the northern dragon- part 4.

PART 4: ADMISSION.

TAGS: @psychosupernatural , @xleviiiix , @ashtronomyyyy , @starkbelova ,@5aftermidnight , @makapaka11 , @mxxkscreate-write , @scorpiosmalfoy ,@harrison-shot-first , @art-flirt , @jessyballet , @vaexvictis , @callmeconceited (feel free to shoot me a message if you’d also like to be tagged!)

DESCRIPTION: the world thought that just 2 dragons survived, that house targaryen was missing its third head. but there was another– the youngest, the final child of the mad king and queen rhaella. of course, she was almost part of the near extermination of her house. but the honorable ned stark, unable to watch a babe be murdered for crimes she did not commit, rescued her from an awful fate. instead, she grew up amongst wolves within the walls of winterfell.

NOTES: there’s not a lot of dialogue in this part but it’s a lot of development for the reader. i know y’all have been wanting robb x reader to be more of a thing, so i tried to give at least a taste of that. anyways, feedback is very much appreciated! i’m already working on the next part, so i’d love to hear your thoughts as it may help me to write it!

WARNINGS: here comes the battle of oxcross so lots of violence.

Holding your head high, you stepped foot into Robb’s tent, finding it empty save for just the two of you. “You wanted to see me, Your Grace?” It felt odd to say it and you didn’t really want to, but you didn’t want to cause any blatant disrespect. When he turns to face you, it is quickly noticed that his eyes are bloodshot with dark circles underneath. He definitely hadn’t slept. With a wave of his hand, he motions you over. Walking up besides him, you lean onto the table where has battle plans are laid out. It’s confusing, did he mean to consult you on strategy? You were a fighter, sure, but that doesn’t mean you knew anything like this. Turning to him with your brow furrowed, you were just about to speak when he did instead.

“My mother has gone to secure an alliance with Renly Baratheon. And Theon went to meet with his father, he says that he can convince him to support us..” he sighs, not sounding so convinced. Another pause, a sigh and he speaks again. “I intend to march on Oxcross. It’s a Lannister stronghold and we need to push them out of the Riverlands. Then on to the Westerlands.” You’re still confused as to why he’s telling you this which is very evident on your features. There’s a pause before he reluctantly states, “I want you out there.” Indigo eyes were wide with shock, “What?!” He nodded before continuing on, “I... I know that you are more than capable. The plan is to take them by surprise in the night so it should be an easy victory.” You were completely astonished, you had thought that the only way you’d get into battle is if you snuck in but now here he was, the King in the North, asking you to fight. “You’ll ride next to me.” It seems that there’s more he wants to say but he leaves it at that. “I had one of the men prepare some armor for you, and a sword. I plan to attack tonight so be ready.” You nodded with a smile on your face. He was finally working with you. “Thank you,” you said softly before taking your leave. 

Shortly after, the encampment was picking up and moving along. They needed to make sure that they covered enough ground that day to get close-- but not too close-- to Oxcross. Per his order, you rode alongside Robb and his advisors. Your heart was racing but you kept a stoic expression. No form of weakness could be shown in front of the men, as they were already questioning why you were here and why you, seemingly a nobody, got to ride alongside the King.

When you finally set up camp again, you began to really feel the nerves. This was a chance to prove yourself, to show that you deserved to be on the front lines. You were never meant to be a woman who sits aside quietly and simply performs her “womanly duties” or whatever it was that was expected of someone like her. Your mother must’ve known what she was doing when she named you-- Visenya was no ordinary Queen, no, she was a Conqueror and Warrior. You would be one too.

The sun was setting and you began to suit up. Steadying your breathing, you carefully put on each piece of the set. Someone then entered your tent, causing you to spin around quickly, armor only half way done. It was Robb. “How does it fit?” he asked. “Well so far, it seems to be just fine,” you replied with a nervous chuckle. All that was given in return was a smirk. There was still your breastplate, gorget and pauldrons to apply. “Need some help?” he questioned, eyeing the pieces that still lie on your bed. You nodded and he began by picking up the breastplate, placing it on the front of your torso, then moving behind to pull the straps tight. It caused you to suck in a quick breath, shocked by just how tight it was. Hearing this, he chuckled. “And this,” he said, picking up the gorget and placing it around your neck, fastening it in place, “goes here.” Finally, there was the pauldrons, which was nothing too difficult and the two of your worked together.

“Thank you,” you said softly, looking up at him with a smile. Looking down on yourself, the armor looked just like his. “Of course,” he replied with a nod. "It’s time,” he added, marching out quickly. Quickly grabbing your helmet and placing it on your head, you ran out of the tent with your sword. You followed after Robb, mounting the horse just beside him. He looked to you for just a moment and you made a point to really look at him. The beard that truly did make him look like a man, his piercing, deep set eyes and those curls... he had assured you that this would be an easy win but nothing was certain. You wanted to make sure you would remember him. 

Emerging from the woods, the Northern army began to easily slaughter the Lannister forces. They had no time to get up and fight. You had already managed to cut down two men as you rode by. Your confidence was growing when you were suddenly thrown off your horse. It was unclear whether the animal had simply been spooked or if it had gotten attacked. Either way, you fell flat on your back, knocking all of the air out of your lungs. There was black spots in your vision and you feared losing consciousness. Sucking in a deep breath burned, but you had to do it or you would pass out and surely be killed. Using all of your strength, you forced yourself up onto your feet, wobbling slightly. The panic set in when your realized you’d lost your sword in the fall. Head moving quickly side to side, you reached down to grab the first one you found. It wasn’t yours, that much you knew, but it would have to do. Just then, a Lannister soldier came charging at you and, acting on impulse, you placed your boot on his chest and kicked him back as hard as you could, letting out a grunt as you did so. He fell back, just as you had and you walked up to finish the job. But what you saw made your hands begin to shake. The boy that laid there was surely younger than you were, his eyes wide with pure terror. This was no ordinary soldier but a boy forced into a conflict he probably knew very little of. It was war, you told yourself. He said nothing but his eyes were pleading. You couldn’t finish the job, choosing to run off into the thick of the fighting.

When morning came, the fighting had ended. It was an obvious win for the North, just as predicted. You sat there in the field, helmet placed beside, dirt and blood all over your face. Groans could be heard all around coming from men on both sides of the conflict. The silent sisters did their work and you just watched. One had approached you but you shook your head, insisting that there were no serious wounds. They had more important matters to tend to. Finally, you had the strength to push yourself up and search for Robb. It was obvious that he was still alive or things would not be as relatively calm as they were.

When you finally did spot him, he was assisting in an amputation of a Lannister soldier. The young man’s foot needed to be removed and so Robb aided a dark-haired medic woman by holding him down. All the while, it seemed as though they were having an engaging conversation. Safe to say, your curiosity was peaked. Who was this woman and why was Robb talking with her rather than meeting with his advisors to discuss what would come next? Or maybe that had already been done.. it made you wonder just how long you had waited to move from your spot on the battlefield. You wanted to find out exactly how their forces fared, so you began to walk towards him while wiping the blood off your face.

“Robb-- Your Grace, I mean,” you said, not exactly intending to intrude on their conversation but you wanted to speak to him now. He turned his head to look at you, his eyes widening. “Thank the gods you’re okay,” he simply says, just a hint of a smile pulling at his lips. “Yeah, you too,” you replied, unafraid to smile back. “This is Lady Talisa,” he quickly says as he looks over at the medic woman beside him. You offer the woman a soft smile and she does the same in return. “And this is Y/N,” he adds, eyes still on her for a moment longer before nodding his head to you. “It is nice to meet you, my Lady,” you say softly to which she replies, “And you, Y/N.” “So how exactly have we fared?” you then asked Robb, head tilted slightly with curiosity. “We lost some good men,” he sighs. “But they lost far more.” There’s a look on the young woman’s face you can’t quite decipher, but it certainly isn’t too pleased. “I will see you back in the camp,” he says. It isn’t hard to tell that it’s his way of saying leave. All you could do is nod and walk away, leaving them to finish their conversation.

You arranged for a bath for yourself late at night when you were sure that most would be asleep. It meant you could cleanse yourself of all that had happened without fear of someone walking in. You watched the steam rise off the scalding hot water as you undressed, head wrap and all. There was a dull mirror in the corner of the tent and you stood to admire yourself in it for a moment. Jaime Lannister’s words began to replay in your head. You’re actually quite pretty, do you know that? Your head tilted as you studied your own frame. He was right, wasn’t he? It’s a shame they keep you all covered up like an old hag. Your hands then went to your hair, running your fingers through the silver locks. It was beautiful and yet no one would ever see it, only you. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you got into the bath, intending to enjoy the hot water while it lasted. The heat felt wonderful as you held your breath and submerged yourself. All the blood and dirt was gone and it was like you had been transformed. When you went back up for air, you looked like a true Targaryen princess-- indigo eyes that truly popped against pale skin and long, flowing, silver hair.

The water eventually ran cold and when you stepped out, the steam rolled off your skin. Your body had been built for the heat but still you managed to grow, even in the freezing North. Sighing, you wrapped yourself in a robe and began to dry off. It was important to make sure that your hair was dry, as wrapping it up wet would cause some problems. Completing the dreary process, you collapsed into the furs and fell asleep.

Like always, the whole encampment was up bright and early. You almost regretted staying up so late just for a hot bath. That simple moment, though, had meant a lot for you. One would never think that something like that could hold any kind of meaning, really. But it made you remember who you are, remember that you are a dragon no matter what mask you must put on for survival. And for a moment there was a hope that one day, somehow, you’d be able to be truly yourself.. but you didn’t allow yourself to hope for long. There was no point when it would only lead to disappointment and hurt. 

Exiting your tent and stepping out into the morning light, you took a deep breath and wondered what the day would bring. You hadn’t seen Robb last night, so you had no idea what his next move was. After thinking it over, you decided to set out in search for him. The first guess was, naturally, his tent but as far as you could tell he wasn’t there. There was just no way you would be getting into the king’s quarters, but you didn’t hear anything going on in there so you moved along. After making your way all around the encampment, you found him and in a position you wouldn’t have expected.

There he was, the King in the North, walking along in thoughtful conversation with a medic. Didn’t he have a million other things to be doing? Your mind raced. You hated the way that you cared and the way that this upset you. It wasn’t just about the importance of focusing on this war and all it meant. It certainly wasn’t about the fact that he was a king and she was seemingly a random woman. This was about something you didn’t want to ever admit, not even to yourself. You loved Robb Stark. You didn’t want to, but you did. It had been that way since you were children. Seven hells, before you could even understand the concept of romantic love, you knew that Robb was different. Jon was your brother but Robb.. he was something else entirely.

Of course, none of that mattered. In fact, you cursed yourself for being upset. Robb had always been an honorable man, he was capable of carrying an engaging conversation with a woman without desiring her. Even then, he was betrothed to a Frey girl and however unsavory that deal was, he would have to honor it. The deal had been crucial in their advancement and there would surely be consequences should he decide to break it off. There was no reason to get so worked up, you thought to yourself but watching the way he laughed and smiled when she spoke, it made your heart ache.

Sucking in a deep breath, you turned around quickly and moved back into the camp to find something to distract yourself. It felt as though it had been years since you truly thought about your feelings for Robb. You had hoped that it would fade away, that it was nothing more than a childhood crush. But as the years went by and you both got older, the feelings never faded-- no, in fact, they only grew into something more. From time to time you wondered if you two could’ve been betrothed to each other had your house not been eliminated. Sometimes you even fooled yourself into believing such a thing but, of course, you knew that it still wouldn’t have been possible. The Warden of the North would never agree to a match between his heir and a descendant of the people who took his home’s independence. It seemed that fate had made it pretty clear that the two of you were never meant to be.

[animefan299110]

Love Heals All Wounds Chapter 5: Letters to Home

Hey guys, this is AnimeFan299110 coming at you with the latest chapter of Love Heals All Wounds! This chapter was suggested by one of my followers Agent-G, who many of you know as the writer behind such Dragonslayer-featured story such as Stag Night, Girl Talk, and of course, Heart to Heart. If you haven't already, check his page out, his stories are awesome and worth reading.

As usual, I do not own RWBY. It is the property of Rooster Teeth and the late, great Monty Oum. Let's get started! ______________________________________________________________ Yang's eyes opened as she felt a cold, unpleasant aura form around her. She found herself in a dark, ruined version of Vale. There was an eerie silence in the air that was only interrupted by the howling wind. She saw blood that was spluttered and smeared on the rubble and buildings. It was as if she was in hell.

"Help…help!" A child's voice called out to her right. Shaking off the scene around her, Yang ran towards the cries until she reached a house with the roof caved in. She then kicked down the door to find a little with her back facing Yang and crying.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Yang asked in concern.

"My daddy and little sister," the girl said before pointing at a closed door. "They're both dead."

"Wait right here," Yang said, "I'll go check up on them." She reached for the handle and tried to turn it, but the knob wouldn't budge. She then shoved her shoulder against the door in the hopes of opening it. It took a few hits before the door finally burst open to reveal…

"D-Dad? R-Ruby?"

Yang's blood went cold and her eyes widened as she gazed upon the dead bodies of her father and sister. Ruby was lying face down with her throat slit while Tai was facing upwards with what looked like finger marks around his throat.

"They're dead." The little girl's voice said, causing Yang to turn around. The girl lifted her head and Yang's breathing became ragged as she looked at her younger self. "They're dead because of you."

Yang began stepping back in shock and fear as the house suddenly collapsed around her. Soon she found herself alone with the bodies of her sister and father. As she looked down on them, Yang felt as though her soul was ripped apart and she collapsed on her knees. "R-Ruby? D-Dad?" She asked, her voice shaking. "Y-You gotta get up. We gotta stop the Grimm." Her legs soon gave out and her knees hit the floor. "Get up; this isn't funny anymore." She then took a hand from both of them and gripped them tightly just as her tears began to flow. "Please…" She said, her voice breaking, "I can't do this alone…I need you both."

"Well, isn't this a sight to behold." Yang froze in fear, for she knew who that voice belonged to. Her fears were confirmed when she turned around to see Adam Taurus smirking at her. Fear soon turned into anger as she remembered what he had done to her.

"You bastard!" Yang cried out. "You did this; you killed them!" It was then that Adam started laughing, causing Yang's eyes to widen in confusion.

"I killed them?" Adam asked with amusement. "You're mistaken, Yang Xiao Long. I didn't kill them; you did! You're the reason they're all dead."

"All dead?" Yang asked. "What are you talk-" Her breath soon hitched and her pupils shrunk when she saw that more bodies had appeared around her and Adam. Her eyes fleeted back and forth as she saw the bodies of Weiss, Blake, Teams JNPR and CFVY, her teachers, Qrow, and various others, all dead and lifeless.

"That's right, Xiao Long," Adam said as he moved closer, "they're all dead because of you. If you weren't so reckless and actually thought before you acted, maybe some of them would still be alive."

Rage boiled in Yang once more as Adam's words seeped into her. She made to attack him, but the dark pool of blood glued her feet to the ground, making her unable to move forward. She struggled desperately as Adam unsheathed his sword. When he was a foot away from her, Yang tried to punch him, but he easily dodged it and trapped it between his arm and body.

"Now then," he asked as he raised the sword above his head and smirked, "how about we complete the set?" Yang's face paled as she saw the sword swing downward. ______________________________________________________________ "NO!" Yang cried out as she sat upright and reached her hand out for something. As her vision cleared, she realized that she was reaching out for nothing. As she breathed rapidly, she found herself in her room at home. One glance at the clock showed the time to be 1:30 a.m. She then settled back onto her bed and placed an arm over his eyes. 'A dream.' She thought. 'Just another dream.'

She sighed sadly; this was the seventh nightmare this week and it was only Wednesday. Not a day went by when she wouldn't get at least one per night. Some were the same, while others were completely different. She had had this particular dream before, but Adam would never talk that much. Normally he would have simply taunted her or cut off her arm without a moment's hesitation before making for her head. As she sat up in bed, the word "reckless" rang through her mind in whispers.

'But what if he's right?' She thought. 'What if I'm so reckless I could get everyone killed?' Before the fall of Beacon, she was known to jump in headfirst at the first sign of a conflict, not thinking before doing. It was because of these actions that she sometimes lost her fights or caused more harm than good. She then wiped her forehead and felt a bit of nightly grease rub against her arm. 'Maybe a good face wash will help clear my head.' She thought. She got out of bed and slowly opened the door before making her way to the bathroom.

"No, that's not going to work either."

Yang snapped her head back at the voice she had heard downstairs. Worried that someone had broken into her house, she slowly crept across the floor so as to not alert any intruders. It was when she came down the stairs and peered over the railing that she noticed a dim light coming from the kitchen. Another closer look quelled her fears when she saw a familiar blonde knight sitting at the kitchen table facing away from her with an oil lantern burning next to him.

Yang noticed that Jaune was muttering to himself over a pad of paper. After a minute or two, he would rip off a sheet of paper, crumple it, and try to toss it into the trash can. He would then scribble a few words before pausing once again.

"What are you doing?"

"AAH!" Jaune cried out as he leapt a few inches into the air. Yang put a finger to her lips and then pointed at the stairs. Jaune noticed immediately and covered his mouth. After waiting a minute to make sure they didn't wake up Tai or Zwei, Jaune removed his hands. "Yang, you scared me. What are you doing up?"

Yang paused before she said, "Couldn't sleep. Plus I saw the light in the kitchen."

"Oh," Jaune said sheepishly, "sorry."

The two then became silent as they heard Tai snort loudly in his sleep. When it was evident that he wasn't coming downstairs, Yang broke the tension when she asked, "So….what are you doing up so late?"

Jaune glanced down at the notepad and pen and sighed. "I've…I've been trying to write my family a letter to let them know how I'm doing. I mean, I should let them know that I'm okay," Jaune's features then darkened, "but after all that happened at Beacon, I just didn't know what to say. The last time I wrote to them, I told them that I was going to see a friend before the final match of the Vytal Tournament and that I would be in touch. But that was a long time ago."

Yang said nothing as she grabbed a nearby chair and sat down next to him. Her eyes soon gazed upon the balled up pieces of paper that littered the floor. Jaune clearly had trouble knowing what to write. "So," she said after a few minutes of silence, "how are you doing?"

"I've…been better." Jaune said solemnly as he averted her gaze.

Yang rubbed her arm above the missing part. "Yeah, I know that feeling." Once again, silence filled the room as the two blondes directed their attention away from each other. Yang leaned down and picked up one of the crumpled pieces of paper. She unfurled it to read:

Dear Mom and Dad,

I wanted to let you know that I'm okay

"Look," she said, directing her attention back to Jaune after looking at the crossed out 'okay', "why don't we look through these crumpled balls? Maybe we can get something out of them. It might help you get to bed faster."

"Okay, sure." The blonde male said. He began picking up the balled-up paper off the ground. Yang did the same, though it was hard to do with just one arm. She sighed; the loss of an arm was certainly a burden she did not think she would bear. True, she had heard stories about huntsmen and huntresses getting severely injured on the job. But she had never imagined it happening to her, let alone her friends and teammates.

For the next few minutes, the two blondes picked up the scraps of paper in total silence. They soon found themselves back in their respective seats, the table littered with balled-up pieces of paper. "Okay; let's see what we can use." Yang said as she and Jaune began unfurling the paper. The first piece Yang opened read:

Dear Mom and Dad,

I wanted to let you know that I'm okay and that you don't need to worry about me.

'Okay, that could be something.' She thought as she set the paper aside and picked up another piece that read:

Dear Mom and Dad,

I wanted to let you know that I'm fine.

'That could work as well.' She thought, setting said paper alongside the other. She then unfurled the next piece and was shocked at what she read.

The paper was literally covered with words. There was no sentence structure, no "Dear Mom and Dad", and all the words were written in random sizes. However, she noticed that they consisted of the same three words:

Weak

Pathetic

Failure

"What's that one say?"

Jaune's words snapped Yang back to reality and she glanced over at the knight. Seeing Jaune's quizzical face and knowing what he had been through, she knew she couldn't let him see what he had written on that piece of paper. He had been through so much already without having to be reminded of how he felt about himself. "N-Nothing," she said, crumpling up the paper and tossing it aside, "it only said 'Dear Mom and Dad' on it."

"Oh, okay." Jaune said casually. Soon, several pieces of paper were open and laid out on the table.

"Okay," Yang said, "Let's begin. How about we start with 'Dear Mom and Dad,'." Jaune nodded and wrote the words down. "'I am writing to let you know that I'm...'" Yang stopped as she looked at Jaune. What could she suggest he write? Okay? Fine? Doing well? Knowing Jaune and what he had been through, she knew he was far from any of those. "'...I'm alive.'" Yang said, to which Jaune wrote down. "'I was able to get out of Beacon safely, but I lost a teammate there...'" It was as she said it that she realized her mistake. "I...I mean..." She stuttered as Jaune looked at her. "Jaune, I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean..."

"It's okay." Jaune said, "I...I want to tell them the truth. I don't think I should sugarcoat what happened." He continued to write down Yang's words until he paused and looked at her to continue. Even though he said it was okay that she mentioned Pyrrha, Yang could tell by the hurt in his eyes that Jaune was lying.

Regardless, she cleared her throat and continued, "'The rest of my team was able to escape and we were taken to the island of Patch where one of my friend's dad lives and where I'm currently staying at the moment.'"

For the next hour, Yang and Jaune continued to switch back and forth in that manner. Yang would tell him what to write and he would do so. There were moments when Jaune would continuously write even when Yang didn't say anything. It was like part of him knew what to write next without her help. Then there were moments when he would set his pen down and close his eyes to compose himself. Yang, on her part, decided to let him be and not pry into what was bothering him. She figured that it was Jaune's problem and that she shouldn't intervene.

Finally after a few adjustments and revisions, Jaune put down his name and handed the letter to Yang. She took the paper and read it to herself.

Dear Mom and Dad,

I am writing to let you know that I am alive. The rest of my team and I were able to escape and we were taken to the island of Patch where one of my friend's dad lives and where I'm currently staying at the moment.

Unfortunately, we weren't without casualties. I lost a teammate at Beacon; my partner, Pyrrha Nikos. She was probably the best partner and friend anyone could ask for. She trained me to be better in combat. Whenever I was down, she was there to pick me back up. And when I needed a friend, she was kind and caring enough to be there for you. I'm sure you two would have loved her if you met. Heck, I bet the girls would have loved her too, though only to get the scope on something embarrassing I did at Beacon.

I know you two would want me to come home and stay with you and the others, but I can't. I can't just run away from the world's problems and not do anything. I want to help out in any way I can and at least find a way to stop those who caused Beacon and Vale to fall. I once asked you to accept my desire to attend Beacon, now I'm asking you to respect my wishes and let me do what I think is right.

Please let the girls, including Saphron, know that I'm both okay and safe. I love you both and I miss you so much.

Forever your son,

Jaune Arc

"I think it's good." Yang said after the look-over. She then tri-folded it and stuck it into an empty envelope that was on the counter before licking it shut.

"Excellent," Jaune said as he held up the envelope, "now all that's left is to write out the address and mail it."

"You can do that in the morning." Yang said as she stood up. "But right now, you need to get to bed."

Jaune nodded; writing the letter late at night did take a lot out of him. He rose and walked carefully up the stairs so as to not wake Tai and Zwei. Once he reached his respective door, he turned to Yang and said, "Thanks Yang, I really appreciate the help tonight."

"No problem." Yang shrugged. She waited until Jaune walked into his room and out of sight before she entered hers. As she walked by the mirror, she paused and leaned into it to pull a few strands away from her face. Looking at her reflection, she remembered the words she had seen on that scrap of paper:

Weak

Pathetic

Failure

A closer look at the mirror caused those words to echo in her head. 'I'm just like him.' She thought. 'I'm all of those words in a bundle.' Deciding not to deny that concept, Yang crawled into bed and did her best to sleep with those three words bouncing around in her head. ______________________________________________________________ And another chapter comes to a close. Sorry if the letter parts are confusing; it's because Fanfiction doesn't have the strikethrough option under Doc Manager. If you want a better version of the story, you can check out the AO3 version.

Kudos again to Agent-G for suggesting this idea.

Don't forget to favorite, follow, and review.

Hopefully, I'll have the next chapter up before the year ends. So keep your fingers crossed and I will see you all next time.

[thwippyparker]

Try To Fix You- Chapter 5

Masterlist

Read Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

Feel free to comment, like, or share this if you want to be added to a tag list, or you can add yourself HERE. Enjoy!

Eventual Peter x Reader, Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, ANGST **************************************************************************

Avengers Tower was just as intimidating on the inside as it looked from the outside. The lobby was much busier than expected given the hour, full of people who you assumed to be agents. The dress ranged from street clothes on operatives who appeared to be on undercover missions to tactical gear. You assumed the agents dressed in business attire were more of your run of the mill desk workers. It was hard not to be intimidated surrounded by all of these people who could probably tell you dirt on everyone in the city and/or kill you without batting an eye. Guards in full tactical gear were posted by each door “I guess you always have to be on guard when you’re the freaking Avengers!”  You thought to yourself as you walked past the lobby and into the elevator corridor. You got a few odd glances from a gaggle of business women chatting about lord knows what. However, as soon as Peter saw the guard manning the elevator, some of his stress began to melt off of his shoulders.

“Hey kid, what are you doing here so late,” the man said with a sort of lopsided grin. He looked vaguely familiar but you couldn’t quite place him. His face was handsome in a rugged way, his hair was cut short and he seemed relaxed. His kind gray eyes like a calm sky, just before a storm. The way he looked at Peter showed he held a certain fondness for him, even if there was a glint to his eye that you read as mischievous. Almost like an older brother who loves to tease and taunt their younger sibling. He had a calming aura around him that made you feel safer just standing near him. He was one of the more casually dressed agents, wearing a black t-shirt, hoodie and some dark wash jeans. As you took in what he was wearing, you noticed the metal hand at the end of his hoodie sleeve. 

The realization hit you as your jaw went slack, the infamous Winter Soldier was a mere few feet from you. You had heard about him from Peter, after Europe and had then done some digging on your own when trying to learn more about the people your best friend chose to fight. His cybernetic arm seemed different though, what was once silver now black with delicate gold accents. It was odd to you but your realization didn’t remove the calm that you had felt just moments before. You expected with his past that you would feel on edge, but who were you to judge someone based solely on the past. 

“Just here to see Tony, Bucky. He in the penthouse?” Peter said smiling, oblivious to your inspection of Bucky. It was still so at odds with the image of him you had in your head of the nerdy, self conscious boy he once was. Here he was talking to a super soldier just as easily as if it were you or Ned. You obviously had a lot to relearn about him since the last time you had really been around him.

These last few weeks had been a roller coaster of trying to relearn your best friend, everything felt so new and yet still so similar that it was only moments like this that you really felt the effects of your time spent apart. It made your heart hurt thinking about it. Peter was always your lifeline, but lately he had felt more like a stranger, maybe it was because you just couldn’t see him for who he had become but rather what he had been. It was so hard to believe that 2 years could change so much. But the evidence was laid out in front of you, wearing neon and glitter just begging for you to notice, you made a promise to yourself to talk with him more about everything that had happened during the gap as soon as you were done here. Maybe it would help you create a new normal, one where you didn’t feel constantly thrown off kilter by life’s ever changing ways. 

“Yeah, the workaholic is where he always is, the lab. I’m a bit worried about him so I’m glad you’re here to visit.  It’ll really cheer him up, I know how much you mean to him. Almost as much munchkin, who by the way will also be thrilled that her big brother is here to visit. Do me a favor, tell her to easy up on the make-overs. She always makes me look like a drag queen, not my best look” Bucky said, shuddering as he turned his gaze towards you. He surveyed you as if he was trying to discern if you were good people or he would have to deal with you later  “Now Peter, it’s rude to not introduce your guest. Who is this lovely young woman” He had a softness to his voice that wasn’t there before, almost as if he could read your soul and realize just how close to breaking down you were. Everything had felt like it was getting back to normal before the phone call today. Now, you just wanted to curl up in one of Peter’s hoodies and lie on the couch while eating Ben & Jerry’s. 

Peter rubbed his thumb along the back of your hand as he glanced down at you. “Oh, right. This is y/n y/l/n, she’s my best friend.” He smiled at you as he looked back at Bucky, “Tony actually asked to see her, can you believe it?”

Bucky had a look of shock pass over his face for a moment before the stony, relaxed mask he had on before was resituated. He rubbed the back of his neck with his metal hand and you could hear the metal plates shifting slightly. “Wow, that’s kind of a big deal. You sure she can handle it, kid?” 

You were wondering what he could possibly be talking about. The last time you had seen or heard of Tony Stark was before the snap that caused everyone you loved to fade from existence. It was a surprise when everyone came back as suddenly as they left; but after he had saved the universe, his wife Pepper had given a statement that he was retiring and would like to not be bothered any further. Surprisingly, the press respected the statement. You guessed that’s what happens when you do what he did. It was shocking that the once media “darling” would back out from the limelight but who could blame him, he’d been doing the hero act for years and deserved some rest. 

Peter’s smile never wavered though as he looked at Bucky, “I think she can handle it. Plus, it’s not like she’s a complete stranger to him. I remember babbling his ear off talking about her when we would be in the lab tinkering with my suits. He also saw her kick butt on Flash’s live stream when we were in Europe when you all were on that ‘covert mission’, he said with air quotes using his free hand.  

Getting that Peter wasn’t going to take no for an answer, Bucky stepped aside as the door to the elevators opened.  “If you say so, punk. Just tell FRIDAY where to go, you know the drill. Oh, and y/n, nice meeting you. Sorry for the twenty questions,” he chuckled, “force of habit trying to protect everyone here, ya know? I hope to see you around sometime.” As the elevator doors closed, you released the breath you hadn’t realized you’d been keeping in. Peter looked at you and pulled you close, rubbing your back as he talked to the empty air of the confined space. “FRIDAY, Tony’s lab please.”

Suddenly a disembodied voice filled the silence, “Should I alert him of your arrival?” The voice sounded friendly enough, you were wondering if that was just you reflecting though. 

“Nah, he knows we’re on our way. Is Morgan with him?” he asked, still not letting you go, chin resting on the crown of your head. You could get used to the closeness of the action. Being with Peter, you had received a softness you hadn’t gotten in over a year and a half. It felt nice to be held without expectations or worry that a fight was on the horizon. Peter was stable and you didn’t realize how much you had missed the stability before that first night. 

“Morgan is currently with Mrs. Stark, on her way to dance practice, would you like me to alert them upon their arrival to the tower” You begin to wonder if you’ll get to meet the little girl who had thoroughly melted Peter’s heart upon being returned from wherever you all were during the snap. Once everything settled, Peter had gained two “adopted siblings” and the Parker’s had finally accepted Tony and Pepper's generosity. 

Last you knew, two years ago, Tony was even looking at Peter to take over the New Avengers and was in talks with Peter and his newfound friend/ “brother” Harley on who would run Stark Industries when Pepper inevitably decided to step down. You hadn’t heard much since then but from what you could tell, Peter had definitely stepped up on the hero front. You had learned after Peter had moved you in that he hadn’t really needed anyone to help cover the bills, as the Avengers were paying for it. Or rather Tony was, as Peter had accepted his offer to head up the New Avengers. 

As Peter was letting FRIDAY know what to do you couldn’t help but remember how you got to where you are now and imagine what could have been if you had taken Peter up on his offer and confession so long ago. Could you have been a part of this close family with the Avengers? Would you have finished school, avoided so much of the heartache that life after Peter had held? Or was this how things were supposed to play out? You couldn’t imagine what sort of entity would want you to suffer as much as you had but maybe it was a more malevolent god like Loki that really controlled all of this. That was a grim thought. You remembered how much destruction and death he had brought when you and Peter were much younger. 

As you were deep in your musings the elevator doors opened and you saw a vast engineering lab, if you could call it that. It looked like a mix between a hotrod shop and a robotics lab at MIT. Peter called for Tony and you suddenly heard a tool drop followed by a string of curses, some of the words you weren’t even sure if they were actual swears or the kind you make up when a child is present as a placeholder word. You marveled at the cars around you, cars you thought you would only ever see in pictures. If it wasn’t for the fear of getting ready to meet one of your heroes, you would be going nuts over the 1967 Shelby Cobra that looked like it had seen slightly better days. Tony called to Peter about his location and Peter began navigating you through the maze of machinery, tools, and robotic exoskeletons.

When your eyes finally landed on Tony, you didn’t believe what you saw. There he was, in the flesh. But he had looked different than all of the pictures you used to have plastered on your bedroom walls and the pictures in your textbooks at school. You noticed scarring along the right side of his face and saw the way it snaked down the side of his neck and disappeared under the collar of his shirt. The worst of the damage appeared to be on his arm; the scars appeared to be much deeper there than anywhere else. He looked as though he had sustained severe burns and you wondered how far the damage went. “Now the media black out makes sense,” you thought as the realization hit you like a ton of bricks. “He had always been a vain person, so of course he wouldn’t want anyone to see the damage sustained by the war.”

As he went to stand up, you heard machinery whirring quietly and looked down. He had what appeared to be metal braces on his right leg. It didn’t look like anything you had seen before. “Maybe he designed it himself. The perks of being rich and an engineer, you can make a better prosthesis for yourself.” If he had caught you staring, he didn’t let you know as he held his hand out for you to take it. 

“Y/n, I assume? It’s nice to meet you, sorry about the circumstances though.” You took his hand and shook it, trying not to pass out from sheer joy. Disfigured or not, this was the man who you had idolized for most of your formative years. “Just so you know, I won’t let him get away with what has happened. I have already sent over the police reports and evidence to my lawyer. Best attorney in the whole state, I actually moved her here from LA when I got into some legal problems before all of this,” he said, gesticulating wildly at the room around him.

“Wait, her?” Peter asked, “ I thought you said you would send it to your guy? If I had known your attorney was a girl, I would’ve told y/n, might’ve made her more at ease.”

“First of all, my young padawan, you assume too much. Her assistant is very much a man, and he is my guy. Most correspondence is through him as Ms. Walters is a very busy woman. She will of course be taking the case pro-bono as she hates any man who harms a woman, very feminist in that regard. Second, I’m sure no matter the circumstances Ms. Y/n would be uncomfortable as the current situation is a difficult one to process. Not to mention being in a building with a god, an ex carney turned assassin and his family, a hundred year old soldier, a jolly green giant, a guy who shrinks, a guy who flies, and of course me, the cripple.” He chuckled at his own expense as he directed his focus to Peter, ”All joking aside, I’m surprised she’s ever comfortable around you my Spiderling,” he stated, pulling Peter into a head lock and tousling his hair, “considering all the babbling you used to do, if I hadn’t seen the feeds, I woulda thought you made her up.” 

As he released Peter Tony looked at you, your eyes still wide with awe. “Hey Pete, why don’t you go get y/n a refreshment from the kitchen while I talk with her about some things. Then we can all have a grown up discussion about some things that have been nagging at me the last few weeks.” Peter looked between you and Tony, as if trying to communicate with you silently, making sure you were okay. You nodded and his face relaxed, his finally focusing on Tony, “Okay, but can I talk to you really quick?” Peter had an odd look on his face as he motioned for Tony to follow him to a separate area of the workshop.

**************************************************************************

Once Peter had reached an area where he knew no one without superhuman hearing would overhear what he was about to ask Tony, he turned to face his father figure and mentor. His heart raced and his palms became slick at the mere thought of what could happen when he left the room. “You’re not gonna tell her, are you? What I told you? I don’t think she’s ready right now, Tony. Plus, I just got her back. I can’t lose her again. When I got that phone call, I thought I had lost her for good. I can’t have you dropping any kind of bomb on her when she is already in a fragile position.”

Peter knew he was rambling but he couldn’t help it. The thought of you leaving him again terrified him. But you were already so upset that he didn’t know how to approach the topic with you when your world kept getting upheaved. He knew you would have to find out eventually, but he wanted to at least wait until the court case was settled.

“Peter, I would never betray your trust like that. I merely want to give her an opportunity to get to know me as a person. Let her get her questions, excitement, and nerves out before the poor girl’s head explodes. I’m working on a limited schedule before Pep gets back or Buck opens his big mouth and the whole tower is trying to make the rounds. I will send an alert to your phone once she’s given me the okay and you can come back. You told me how much you both look up to me a long time ago and I want to give her the same opportunity I gave you all those years ago. I noticed you didn’t tell her about why I look like this. Poor girl looks like she’s seen a ghost.”

Peter felt ashamed, blindsiding you with Tony’s condition but he didn’t want to scare you and if he was being honest, it was still hard for him to deal with. Peter would never tell you, but dealing with his PTSD from the war and then also facing both snaps was hard to do. That part of his story was hard for him to relive, even with you. But standing in front of Tony now, it brought back the memories, like always.

**************************************************************************

Peter had reached for Tony instinctively when he held the stones, before anyone else on the team. He felt the sheer power, got drunk off of it. At first, Peter wanted to bathe in the feeling forever, he felt invincible. Within moments, it became terrifying. This was an unnatural level of power that no being should ever possess, mortal or not. Every cell was filled with it, to the point where Peter felt like his nerve endings were splitting and reconnecting over and over again.

The edge was taken off as other members of the team grabbed on to Tony and each other. Everyone’s minds felt connected too, as though they were all one organism, with Tony being the leader. A loud cacophony of voices drenched with fear flooded Peter’s mind to the point where he couldn’t tell where he ended and they all began. When it was finally manageable, Tony used all the strength he could muster to end the fight once and for all. 

For a brief second after the snap, there was nothing. Then, pain tore through everyone as the power surged out. Loud screams bubbled from the Avenger’s mouths as one by one, they all let go. Despite the entire team sharing the burden, Tony had sustained the most damage. As Peter let go of Tony, he dropped to ground, nearly knocked unconscious from the collective pain he had felt. Peter quickly sat up, trying to compose himself as the sounds in his head didn't stop. That’s when he noticed Tony.  

As Thanos and his army vanished, Tony collapsed to the ground. Most of his right side was covered in horrible burns, the smell of burning flesh and ash heavy in the air. Dr Strange tore through the crowd to open a portal, only keeping it open long enough for Pepper, Peter and Rhodey to step through before slamming it shut.

Peter was unsure where he was until the sounds of monitors and the smell of disinfectant flooded his senses. He could still hear panic but now it was that of hospital workers trying to get Tony’s suit off and get him sedated. Peter wasn’t sure if he was hearing the staff or their thoughts. But he didn’t have time to figure out where he was or why he felt differently. He just thanked whatever force that controlled all the madness of the universe that Dr. Strange had gotten them to a hospital before Tony was too far gone. 

It was touch and go for a long time, but when the doctor came out with a relieved look on her face, Peter knew no matter how long it would take, everything would be fine. Only then did Peter allow himself to feel the exhaustion that had been creeping onto him since he had come back to the realm of the living. He felt himself slump in the chair, unable to keep himself upright any longer.

**************************************************************************

Peter came back to reality as Tony snapped his fingers in front of his face. “Earth to web head, you okay in there kiddo?” Peter shook his head to clear the fog as he looked at Tony. 

“I’m sorry Mister Stark, I should’ve told her about you or warned you that I hadn’t told her yet. It’s just… ugh!” Peter groaned, rubbing his face roughly, “I could hear how hopeless she felt, could feel it radiating off of her. I hate that I couldn’t have prevented this all because of some stupid thing I said years ago. I want to get her back, want to win her back. And I know it’s not the right time but I just can’t help but feel protective over her. She will always be the love of my life, even if I’m not hers. And to hear her talk about even letting the scum who hurt her get away because of who his father is made me see red. There’s no excuse for this though Tony, I’m sorry.”

Tony patted Peter’s shoulder, “I forgive you kid, I just hope she will when all is said and done.”

**************************************************************************

Masterlist

Read Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

[alternislatronemhq]

Congrats, Beth, you have been accepted to AL for the role of Kingsley Shacklebolt (FC: Aldis Hodge). Beth!! Way to go in breaking the ice on picking up your second character! I know that you’ve been thinking and dreaming about Kingsley since the beginning, and the way that you’ve brought a familiar but mysterious character to life while keeping that mystery alive is incredible! There’s so much tension within Kingsley that even he isn’t really aware of in his need to please in following in his father’s footsteps, and I can’t wait to see how that comes into play as the war begins to heat up again. Fantastic job! Please send in your blog (no sideblogs for first characters, please) in the next 24 hours and be sure to take a look at our new player checklist. Welcome home (once again), we’re so excited to have you join the family!

OOC

name — Beth age — 24 pronouns — She/Her timezone — CST

IC Overview

name — Kingsley Shacklebolt

age — 34 (Birthday: March 2, 1952)

gender — Cis Male

sexuality — Asexual, Biromantic: Kingsley hasn’t put much focus in relationships, and it’s left him feeling a bit lonely. Straight out of school, he began training to be an auror and was shortly after inducted into the Order. Even after the war ended, Kingsley has focused his attention on work things, like making sure Voldemort isn’t coming back. Still, he can’t help feeling like it would be nice to have someone to come home to—someone he could kiss good morning, make dinner for, and fall asleep with at night. Kingsley isn’t sex-repulsed and will have it with a partner he feels highly committed to, but he doesn’t seek it out or find inherent pleasure in the act itself so much as the intimacy with someone he loves and trusts. He hasn’t technically shared a bed with anyone since Hogwarts when he was still figuring himself out, and Kingsely has only had one romantic relationship as a full-fledged adult. He misses having someone he can be romantically close to. He feels alone and wonders at this point if that will be his lot in life.

hogwarts house — Hufflepuff, and it would be difficult to find one more likely to work hard than Kingsley. He probably trusts too easily, but his years as an auror have taught him to rely less on that instinct. Despite his experience, he has a hard time believing that anyone is ever truly without good. People can be redeemed, and Kingsley is pretty sure the moment he stops thinking that is the moment he stops being a good auror.

blood status — Pureblood (Though his non-English mother doesn’t exactly have his family in high standing with the “truly” pure English elite.)

patronus — Lynx, both because it’s canon and because that aloof individualism + steadfast loyalty thing feels fitting for Kingsley.

boggart — In school, his boggart was his father scoffing and yelling at him for failing out of school and being a disappointment. It was counteracted by imagining his mother coming in and laughing that his father was reading too many puff news publications and that no such thing was true of her well-achieving little boy. As an adult, it became a Death Eater slowly moving toward him. If he gives it long enough, it eventually takes off the mask to reveal his own face. The only time he’s been faced one in front of other people, Kingsley quickly cast the spell, imagining the figure tripping over his own robes and dropping his wand before the mask could come off. The explanation was a conversation Kingsley didn’t want to have.

IC In Depth

personality traits —

Kingsley is an incredibly driven individual, although he may have been accused of being obsessive a time or too. That drive has always worked out for him since he’s so goal-oriented, and both his job and his, well, other job have benefited from his methodical approach. Occasionally Kingsley has been called naïve because he desperately wants to see the best in people; however, he sees no problem with being trusting and giving people the benefit of the doubt. He has a big heart and doesn’t try to hide that from the people he’s closest to, perhaps even making him a romantic. His whole life was grooming him for a position as an auror, so Kingsley does well under pressure. He comes off cool and collected. A person would be hard pressed to consider him callous for this lack of emotion, but The Prophet has made the claim in respond to Kingsley’s ability to keep his emotions hidden during stressful interviews. Still, that power to remain calm and not let his feelings get the best of him are part of what makes him good at his job.

character biography —

The Shacklebolts are a longstanding pureblood family, and while Kingsley has some halfblood cousins, his immediate family could still claim their Sacred 28 title if they wanted.  His mother was born Esi Caron and attended Beauxbatons Academy before beginning her career as a seer. Her parents had immigrated from Libya to French when she was a small child, but Esi never fully felt comfortable there. It wasn’t difficult for her to give up those new roots when Cypress Shacklebolt entered her life while abroad on a Ministry mission. Although it was another three years before they married, Esi moved to the UK almost immediately.

The two were lovely together, even if they weren’t always the most cohesive. They loved each other and never had a harmful household, but when they didn’t agree, it was certainly a tense one for Kingsley and his siblings. Two headstrong parents meant that an argument could stew unsettled for the better part of a week. Still, his parents worked at their communication and always tried to create a loving environment for their kids.

As the oldest, Kingsley had a certain responsibility to look out for his younger siblings. Irma, Hendrick, and Rosetta had plenty of responsibilities too, but it was Kingsley who grew up constantly trying to meet Cypress’ expectations and always felt like he never truly got there. Cypress’ approval was hard won, and occasionally Kingsley wondered how his father would react if Kingsley hadn’t wanted to become an auror. It was family legacy at this point, but because of Kingsley, his siblings didn’t have the same expectations. The option was there if they wanted it, but it was Kingsley who had Cypress’ attention.

The weight of his father’s expectations wasn’t easy to live with, especially when Cypress was killed by a cursed object when Kingsley was sixteen. Kingsley was a fifth year studying for his O.W.L.S. Momentarily his indecision paralyzed him, but the thought that he’d never have his father’s full approval made Kingsley throw himself even harder into his studies. Maybe he couldn’t ever have his father’s praise, but he could follow the steps that would have made his father proud.

Kingsley came of age and joined in aurors right as long brewing tensions and whispers finally broke out into war. At first, he was convinced that the Ministry could handle it and that the aurors would be the front lines working toward stopping Lord Voldemort and his Death Eater followers. Instead he saw firsthand the Ministry’s corruption as higherups looked the other way or stalled searching on ‘important families.’ Kingsley grew more frustrated by the day as they barely reacted to something that had already spiraled beyond the Ministry’s control.

Alastor Moody saw this frustration. After some small testing of Kingsley’s loyalty and conviction, he invited Kingsley into the Order of the Phoenix. Despite its technically illegal nature, Kingsley never hesitated when faced with the opportunity to make lasting impact. Almost ten years of his life was devoted to that cause, but when the war ended, Kingsley couldn’t wrap it up quite like everyone else. Between the Ministry and the Order, he’s kept himself fairly busy in the time since then.

Kingsley has watched two of his siblings find happy partnerships and one have children. In his father’s absence, he hasn’t ever tried to be that figure, but he has certainly tried to help out his mother as much as possible, especially with Rosie. The gap between them is large enough that she literally has no memories of him before Hogwarts, so they’ve always been a little different than the other sibling relationships in their family. Every once in a while, Esi gently inquires about Kingsley’s love life, but she accepts his no with just a small nudging reminder that she wants to see him happy. Kingsley is happy. At least, that’s what he’s told himself.

With rumors of Voldemort returning and Death Eaters beginning to shift, Kingsley isn’t so sure he found the happiness and stability he was looking for. This has been his life for about fifteen years now. He’d hoped they were on the tail end of cleaning up that mess, but apparently that might not be the case. When he can see the rebuilding around him, Kingsley has a hard time accepting that everything could shift again in an instance, but he knows how easily it could happen. He’s hoping to be part of the force that can keep that shift from ever coming.

plot ideas —

The Order: Obviously certain members of the Order have never really stopped looking to cement that Voldemort doesn’t return. People like Alastor and Sirius are among Kingsley’s closest confidants. Surely they don’t always agree about how to move forward, though, especially right now when there are so many whispers about Voldemort’s potential return.

The old Order: Some members of the Order have “retired” so to speak in light of Voldemort’s disappearance. I’d love to see the tense interactions of people like Kingsley trying to convince them there’s still a threat—or on the flip side, Kingsley trying to mislead them against it for their own good.

Known Death Eaters: Plenty of Death Eaters escaped justice, some with fairly sizable evidence or gut instincts betraying them. Even if he wants to see the best in people, Kingsley won’t trust them.

Siblings: This is more character than plot, but it could be interesting to eventually see some of Kingsley’s siblings or in-laws in play. How do they react to their workaholic big brother? How do they feel on the matter of blood status? Family dynamics are always interesting, and the range for the Shacklebolts could be fun.

Potential romance: As I said above, Kingsley is asexual, but he’s still a romantic soul. In fact, he’s quite lonely and wouldn’t mind a relationship if he had more time to meet someone. It could be fun to play out a potential relationship forming, whether it works out or fails dramatically. I could also see fun potential for an ex where things didn’t go well (I mentioned above one particular one in his adult life, and that could be interesting to play with). Another connection off this idea is a well-meaning friend trying to set Kingsley up on dates that don’t really work out because his friend doesn’t really know much about his type (although to be fair, Kingsley isn’t always sure either).

Whistleblower: Eventually something is going to happen which cannot be denied any longer. While Kingsley wouldn’t probably be the person to go, “He’s back,” or, “The situation is worse than you’ve all feared,” I could see him potentially supporting the person who is, depending on how they go about it. Regardless of his beliefs, it would be interesting to see how everyone reacted and who the surprise denialists are.

extra —  

Family tree: https://narcissaamaryllis.tumblr.com/private/621468809324380160/tumblr_3GKGHoSROIWvKhxY7

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/myrpboards/kingsley-shacklebolt/

[sleepysampai]

January 2nd, 2020

A WARNING AHEAD OF TIME.

This was a NIGHTMARE. Please do not read if you are easily disturbed. It is not graphic, but the dream DOES contain pets of mine that had passed away.

--

The Dream:

I stood with a couple of Tumblr friends in a room that felt dimmer than it should have been. I peered towards the light, mentally noting that this meant there was cause for this friend to fear sleeping in this room. Both he, and the younger friend, stood behind me as I looked over the data from the computer.

"There's nothing," I said with an exasperated sigh.

"Really?" The older boy (who I'll call Kaden) said.

"You didn't find anything?" The younger boy (we'll call him Xander) asked, almost disappointedly.

I shook my head, closing the metal case with a sturdy thunk. I knew I could feel something lurking around. The dimmed lights were an evident sign of a haunting. No matter which equipment I used, they refused to communicate.

What I suspected was a secret government agency, posing as a paranormal investigation team, scurried around like ants behind me. They introduced themselves as The Order of the White Light (or Good Light, I can't remember which). I felt like they were the reason why none of the spirits made contact.

"Is it still safe for me to sleep here?" Kaden asked, eyeing his bed. He picked at his hoodie cuffs nervously. I flicked my eyes around, a threat in my heart.

"Nothing happened," Xander said, peering under Kaden's bed, then under the desk. "That means there's no ghosts."

"We didn't get any evidence," I started, "but that doesn't necessarily mean nothing's here." Both boys visibly stiffened. "I don't think they'll bother you tonight, but you can always call me again if you need something." I smiled and turned.

I was suddenly in my own house. My dad was standing on two precariously stacked chairs, arranging hanging wineglasses. Tina (who comes in and out of my dreams every so often despite her absence in my life) was watching on. In the other room, my sister (who I will call Serenity) and brother (who I'll call Michael), both sat on the couch, practically screaming at the TV as Serenity played Breath of the Wild.

I looked again at my parents, hanging the wineglasses. "I thought you wanted them elsewhere?" I asked.

"I'm sure they can decide for themselves," the lead member of the Order of the White Light said. I glared at him. I weaved past my parents and went upstairs, hoping for comfort in the puppies.

I stood in the playroom of the Tonto house, the most haunted house we'd lived in. I remember thinking it was strange the puppies weren't in there. I heard their steps thunder down the hall. Persephone was VERY pregnant, and waddling a little as she ran.

"Look out!" Michael called as they ran past me. "Percy was shooting milk." I laughed at the absurd statement.

I looked at the ground. Under a towel was a black tail.

If I didn't know any better, I'd think that was...

My blood ran cold. My eyes slid to the leader. I was back in my livingroom.

"We thought you'd like to give them all a proper burial. Much closer to you." I glared daggers at the balding man with wispy tufts of white hair and a mustache. I looked at the towel again. Dirt, most likely clinging to Rusty's fur when we buried him the first time.

Lucky and the puppies trotted into the room together, harmless to each other.

I sat in a chair at the dining room table as my father finally stopped his dangerous decorating. We all sat, despite The Order of the White Light still wandering our house. It occurred to me I didn't know what they were looking for. It occurred to me that my family didn't suspect a thing.

I sat on the floor by Rusty's body. I noticed the other lumps under towels. Most likely others of our pets that had passed. I reached for Rusty. He turned his head quickly. Bluish-white eyes looking at me but through me. I quickly recoiled my hand with a yelp, standing. My family stopped their conversation to look at me.

"He just moved," I pointed shakily at Rusty. They looked at the dog. His head was back down, he was clearly motionless. My brain was immediately looking for explanation. Muscle spasms, bacteria or fungus known for aiding in reanimation, gasses, anything.

Lucky waddled over to investigate Rusty, and to everyone's shock, including Lucky's, Rusty stood, sniffing Lucky back loudly. We all froze. Rusty then moved to Tina, who sat still in unimaginable terror. Rusty moved soullessly, almost like a puppet. I was so unsettled and afraid. Because there was no soul, I knew he wouldn't recognize us and would easily attack.

I sat in a chair away from the bodies, scrambling for how he could have moved like that. "I think it... has something to do with.... the Order....." I spoke quietly. The leader exited our laundry room. I got the distinct feeling he heard me. I stood, and wordlessly headed up the stairs for my bed. I was panicking and just wanted to escape.

I woke up shaking.

--

Significant Symbols:

Friends: Most sites I researched believed that friends are common in dreams because they are present in our day. Others suggested there may be something about me that I am projecting on to them. It could be worries I carry for these friends.

Dim lighting: Although I believe this is one way I find there is a haunting (I believe entities draw energy from the lights, leaving them slightly dimmer), lights often represent clarity. Because they are dim, it represents partial clarity.

Ghost Hunting: I couldn't find anything on ghost hunting specifically, but I was talking about it with a friend earlier that day. I suspect that is why it appeared.

Haunting: Tends to mean something from your past is haunting you, not necessarily a ghost. More likely it is emotional or mental issues that are resurfacing.

Secret Government Agency: Appears to mean I feel trapped or like there is no escape from what governs me, be that emotional, mental, physical, or spiritual.

Order of the White Light/Good Light: I believe they were trying to just make ghostly connotations to gain my trust.

My house: A place of comfort and learning.

Wineglasses: Represent happiness and pregnancy. Cups often represent emotion as well, and because they were hanging upside down makes me think maybe an emotion was "spilled" or needs to be "spilled".

Playroom: A large room in my old house. I think it represents my childhood. Although I can't remember anything frightening happening to me in that room, but there is always this sense that I don't want to enter.

Breast Milk: Represents nurturing. Can also represent frustrations about dealing with someone childish.

Passed Away Animals: often represents success, and spiritual cleansing.

Dirt/soil: represents worries, emotional instability, blockages, misery, or difficulties.

Zombie dog: Some part of my life feels detached.

Laundry room: One of the places I am irrationally afraid of in my own home. I feel the man exiting from there was significant in that way.

--

Overall analysis:

I believe my subconscious is drawing attention to my Inner Child work. This is a type of self-therapy to be the parent your child self needed-- to scold the you who was bratty, or to just love and hold the you that needed love and reassurance.

I have found recently that I am experiencing blockages (I am imagining both spirituality and emotionally) due to things that have happened in my childhood. There are a lot of emotional symbols here. It feels like a, "you're doing a good job, but there is still a long way to go."

[heartofsnark]

MC Comes Out As A Trans Man (KBTBB Headcanons)

Notes: I am a cis person, so while I can educate and ask questions, I will never fully understand the full scope or experience of being trans. This was a request by one of my friends when i was outsourcing the big bunch of Ko-Fi donations that came with no request. I tried hard to do this appropriately, but if I’ve written anything transphobic, hurtful, or just gotten something wrong, please let me know, so I can correct it. 

Eisuke’s MC would be among the most scared to come out as a trans man. Not because he necessarily thinks Eisuke wouldn’t accept him, but because of Eisuke’s status. Eisuke may do a lot of business internationally, but his work is primarily based in Japan, a more conservative country. What is MC being a trans-man means people won’t want to work with Eisuke, what if it ruins the reputation of the Tres Spades and Ichinomiya group. There are a lot of fears and anxieties that go along with this. When MC can’t take it another day and finally comes out to Eisuke, he doesn’t say anything, only listens. He lets MC word vomit it all out, explaining how long he’s struggled with this, how scared he’s been, but every time he’s called a she or something triggers dysphoria for him, he wants to die and he can’t do it anymore.   Once MC is done getting it all out of their system, Eisuke tells them no matter their gender, MC belongs to him. Which is his not so romantic way of saying he’ll love MC no matter what. Anyone who doesn’t want to work with him because of MC isn’t someone he wants to work with and anyone who’d go out of their way to harass MC, will wish they were dead by the time Eisuke is done.

Something important to Eisuke is never making the same mistake twice; it just takes one correction of pronouns for Eisuke to never use the wrong pronouns again.

Eisuke is beyond supportive with MC’s transition, his number one love language is spending money and transitioning to any degree is expensive. Whatever MC wants or needs to help the process is done. If MC wants binders, top of the line best money can buy and Eisuke always messages/calls to remind him when it needs to be taken off for safety reasons. If MC isn’t comfortable wearing dresses or skirts anymore, immediately given a male uniform for the hotel and all those event dresses will be replaced with perfectly tailored suits. If MC wants to start hormone therapy, he’s getting the best doctor on it to administer and keep eye on the treatment. If MC decides they want surgery, Eisuke is doing research into everything that’s needed and where to get the best surgeon. Eisuke will even goes through the trouble of letting MC go through another country for the surgery whichever one has the better process that MC likes. Japan requires sterilization for transitioning, which Eisuke doesn’t like at all, personally. If MC is comfortable with it, he’d still like to have children the conventional way. But, if MC would rather have the surgery in Japan or just wouldn’t want to be pregnant in general, he’ll start looking into surrogates or adoption.

 Soryu isn’t as well-versed in LGBT+ issues or identities, but his reaction to MC telling him he’s actually a man is that, yeah, that makes sense. There are two reasons for this reaction, first one is,  MC has made small efforts to dispel dysphoria even before he felt comfortable coming out as a trans guy, meaning MC wasn’t ever the most traditionally feminine of women, and the way MC seem very uncomfortable to insane degrees when expected to do things that would  trigger dysphoria for them.  It was always clear that this went beyond MC being a tomboy.

The second reason is, Soryu has never been the biggest fan of women. He’s gotten better than his initial sexism, but due to his childhood experience, women have always made him uncomfortable. He even questioned his sexuality for a while when he was younger, if he was this hateful and uncomfortable with women, it would make sense he probably doesn’t find them sexually attractive. Then he met MC and thought it was a case of just needing to meet the right woman, but it makes sense that well, MC just wasn’t a woman. A part of him wonders if somehow he knew before he realized he knew, if that makes sense.

He’s less skilled at changing pronouns and adapting, he’ll make more than one of two mistakes. But, he’s always quick to apologize, try not to do it again, and the guilt on his face is evident. He’ll be supportive in whatever kind of transitioning MC may want to do. Soryu wants to learn more and be the best partner he can be to MC. The mafia itself has some toxic and gross ideas, the ice dragons themselves accept MC readily. Inui might get a little clumsy but he means well, the first time he accidentally calls MC princess, he freaks out realizing his mistake and some say he’s still apologizing to this very day.

One night before bed, MC catches that Soryu’s usual mystery novel has been replaced with a book about what it’s like to be trans, so he can better understand. MC is beyond moved and gives his boyfriend extra loving that night.

There will be other mafia groups and enemies who will see this as something to take advantage of. They’ll purposely insult or trigger MC, weaponize it against Soryu. But, rest assured, the Ice Dragons will make sure those people regret it.

Baba’s MC has nothing to worry about, ‘cause fuck Baba is just perfect, let’s be honest. Honestly, Baba probably knew to a degree, like he suspected it and was just waiting for MC to tell him. If anyone was paying attention, after a while Baba’s nicknames became more and more gender neutral. MC tells him and he’s accepts easily, MC means everything to him and he’d never throw them away for something like this. Besides, Baba is definitely like pansexual or bisexual, so the gender of his partner has and always be irrelevant to him, all he cares about is the emotional aspect.

He’s loving and supportive through any kind of transitioning, reminds them when they need to take off their binder, takes care of them if hormones ever make them sick, or when/if they have surgery. He’s finding the male equivalent to every feminine nickname he ever gave, he realizes calling MC god instead of goddess sounds vaguely cultish, so if MC wants he’ll turn that into angel, but maybe they’re into the cult thing. He’s more than willing to worship them after all.

Hey, this famous person said something transphobic, now their house has been robbed and all the money has been given to foundations/charities that help trans people. How crazy, how could that have happened!?

Would a hundred percent kiss and smooch all over MC’s top scars if they got surgery, making sure he knows Baba loves his body no matter what.

If they don’t cause dysphoria Baba would 100 percent still want MC to wear those sexy costumes, but if he’s not comfortable, Baba can always wear them.

Honestly, Baba would just have the least issues adapting there’s not a lot to say. The biggest fuck up I could ever see him making is calling MC his pretty lady accidentally and he’d be like “oH FUCk, SoRRY, MY HANDSOME MAN!”, he’d feel bad but honestly him being awkward and struggling is cute and he’d never do it again.

Moral of the story, date Baba. Just do it.

Ota’s first response, “Does this mean we have to get you neutered?”, as assholey as it is it flusters MC and makes them yell at him for the dog shit, changing the serious tone to a light and teasing one. Male, female, non-binary, MC is still his Koro and his bluebird. Additionally, I feel like in the art world and having lived in New York, Ota has met trans people and in general just sees it more as yeah, sometimes people aren’t cis and he doesn’t really see the big deal. The sky is blue and he now has a boyfriend instead of a girlfriend. He might fuck up pronouns a few times, force of habit, but he’ll try not to do it again.  He might tease them a bit, saying how the dog is now training the master,

Once it’s made public, Ota is even more protective about paparazzi around MC. He knows how quickly they’ll flock to harass and bother MC about his transitioning. Ota isn’t going to stand by it, not for a second, reminding them of how if they don’t watch it and treat MC with respect, he’ll stop painting.

Ota paints flowers and designs on MC’s top scars when they’re feeling bad about their body. He’ll also paint portraits of them in general, MC can visit Ota’s studio and see his transition in painting form. Portraits from early on to the current ones, showing every little change MC’s made, like a beautiful documentation of his growth.

Mamoru  it’s gonna be a slower process for him to get it.He ultimately decides, meh, MC is MC, he loves ‘em no matter what. His reaction is pretty calm and borderline a non-reaction.

He’s gonna mess up with pronouns for a while at first, it’s not that he doesn’t care or doesn’t want to make the effort, he’s just a creature of habit and change is a little hard. When he’s corrected, he murmurs “shit sorry” and makes sure not to not slip for as long as he can.

Mamoru gets a little more protective as MC transitions, he’s a cop and he’s seen too many hate crimes not to feel that extra need to keep him safe.

Mamoru finally taps into that money he gets from auctions when MC wants things to transition or surgery. He usually doesn’t bother to touch it, cause he personally doesn’t need for much, but he’d spend it all to make his boyfriend happy and comfortable.

Before MC started transitioning he would casually grab and play with their chest, following surgery when they lounge together he’ll casually run his thumb over his boyfriend’s top scars.

“No matter what, you’re still just a kid.” 

Rhion, bless his heart, doesn’t know what the fuck is going on. He was sheltered to an extent before he became the Hatter. I’m not fully convinced he knows what being trans means. Telling him is a bit like telling a child to an extent, he’s open and accepting but might not realize the full gravity of it.

When MC comes out and explains it, he’s immediately accepting. MC means the absolute world to him, no matter what. MC has always represented to him, someone who would accept him no matter what, he intends to do the same.

He may falter with pronouns a few time, just ‘cause he can be a little absent minded, but he’s quick to correct himself. He may even pout as he apologizes ‘cause he’s mad at himself.

The biggest concern and issue he may have is whether he can continue calling MC Alice. While, as their relationship has grown he’s stepped away from it more and more, it’s become a sort of pet name. Rhion knows Alice is a girl character and he knows he knows being treated at all like a woman makes MC feel bad, (he doesn’t grasp the full gravity of dysphoria but he damn well understands it hurts MC and he doesn’t want his boyfriend to ever be hurt). It would make

Rhion explains that while he knows Alice is a female character and it’s a female coded name, Alice to him has always represented more of a concept. The concept and idea of someone he was always waiting for, someone who’d love him and be with him no matter what, who wouldn’t shun him. To him, it transcends gender, but as much as he’s attached to it, he’ll stop if it hurts MC. ‘Cause at the end of the day they’re more important than a nickname.

Additionally, Rhion is mesmerized by hormone therapy and/or surgery. Like, seeing how much MC’s body changes, he considers it like magic and always have some cheesy pseudo poetic metaphor. It’s so cool and he goes starry eyed over everything.  MC’s voice is getting deeper? What!? That’s amazing, every octave change is like a beautiful melody! MC’s getting more body hair, body changing, it’s a slow beautiful metamorphosis, like watching someone evolve before his very eyes. MC’s gotten surgery, it’s like a butterfly finally emerging from its cocoon, fully shifted and changed for the better.

Luke  is another one with a non-reaction kind of reaction. MC has to wonder if he even heard him or if he was too preoccupied with his medical book. That is until MC comes back from work and Luke pipes up, “so, do you plan on doing hormone therapy? There’s a very good hospital I know of that provides that treatment. Or I can do it, if you’d prefer.”

Luke does what he does best, medical research. He can’t help much on the social and emotional side of things, he fully supports them and loves them, but he’s not always the best person to go to when you’re having a bad day. Like all cis-people he can’t ever fully grasp dysphoria, but he wants to help the best way he knows how.

He’s scattered brain, but he always knows when to remind MC to take off their binder. It’s like his tea time, never forgot tea time or binder removal time.

He’d very much like to be a part of the hormone treatment managing; he’d probably offer to do any kind of surgery MC wants, as creepy as that might sound. The reason for this is A) he trusts himself more than a random doctor and B) it helps make him feel like he’s a part of it and supporting MC. The only problem is, well, if something goes wrong, he’d never forgive himself. Though if another doctor fucked something up, he’d probably kill them, soooo. 

Sexy bones is a gender neutral nickname, so it stays and he’s surprisingly good with not slipping on pronouns. He researches if top surgery or hormones can mess with collarbones, just to give himself some peace of mind. 

Shuichi’s MC would be scared to tell him because A) he’s an ambassador and political figure and B) he’s a catholic.  Religion and Politics don’t always go well with LGBT+ matters.

Shuichi isn’t transphobic or homophobic, but he’s never thought about much in terms of how those matters affect his life. He’s realistic and pragmatic, he knows not everyone is going to accept MC or their relationship. He knows MC being trans could damage his political career, because as much as the world is moving forward this is still taboo to a lot of people. He knows he may not be allowed back at the church he attends.

But MC is more important than any of that.

He’s very careful and conscious of his pronouns, doing everything he can not to misgender MC. If he makes a mistake, he apologizes and learns from it, it’s fundamental. He’ll get books and material to educate himself on what he doesn’t understand. Learning and growing is something he’s always found crucial, this is the time for that.

He’d strive to use his political power and pull in order to make difference, like pulling for laws in order to help and protect transgender people. While, he was always in support of those things it’s closer to his heart now that it impacts MC.

If he has any question of faith with it, he comes to the ultimate conclusion that God made MC who he is, so he must love MC and if anyone says otherwise they can bite him. If the people at the church make MC uncomfortable, they’ll find a new church.

Hikaru (he’s officially the only one I haven’t read yet, so fuck me if this is ooc), he’s a bit confused at first, just as a whole. Gender and sexuality stuff isn’t something he regularly thinks about. He’s kinda like o..kay, that’s a thing now.

In his very tsundere way of expressing love, “boy or girl, you’re still a dummy”

He’ll have a slow switch with pronouns, lots of mistakes early on, he’s fumbling and apologetic, he sounds grumbly and pouting when he does it. But he means well.

If a guest at the hotel says anything to MC, he’s grabbing their arm a bit too tight and he’s doing his work smile but there’s murder in his eyes.

Transphobes get their computers hacked, suck it assholes.

He’s even easy to tease during some of this.

“Hey, Hikaru, are you gonna miss my boobs?” “SHUT UP DUMMY!”

“You wanna say good bye to them?”

And then Hikaru throws a pillow at him, while his face is tomato red.

~Did you like this set of headcanons? Wanna request something similar? Just wanna support me? Consider buying me a Ko-Fi!~