#and comes from a working class home torn apart by the war caused by - remember my post abt how she should be allowed

[c-kiddo]

thinkin about when tmn met cad and nott was like “do you need any help there, mr? mrs?” .like Let me get this bitchs pronouns before i call him strange and frightening and then shoot my friend to check if he has healing powers

[randomshyperson]

LEFT BEHIND - WANDA MAXIMOFF X READER - #02 "R.I.P to My Youth"

Summary: The one where you lived in the apartment under the Maximoff family in Sokovia, or, your journey as a Sokovian civilian to Avenger.

A/N: So, chapter two is here. Honestly, this story is a mess in my head haha but somehow people are enjoying so i'm sharing. Good reading!

Dictionary for this chapter: dvornyaga - mutt || chuma - plague/brat || Prostite, mem - sorry, ma'm || Vor - thief || printsessa - princess || skuchnyy - annoying ||

Series Warnings: (+16) Violence, fighting, cursing, civil war environments, abuse of power, assault, torture, underage kissing, psychological torture, substance use, mention of assault/fighting of children, smut, kissing, teasing, insinuation of sexual and moral harassment, verbal offenses. Chapter warnings: Underage kissing, violence.

Words: 3.268 K

All Works Masterlist || Read on AO3 || Part One || Series Masterlist

//-//

Chapter Two - R.I.P to My Youth

Sokovia, 7 years ago.

You ducked quickly when you noticed the punch coming toward you.

"Stand still, dvornyaga!" Said the teenager trying to hold you by the shoulders, but you slipped out of his hands, dodging under his arms and starting to run.

The boy rushed to catch up with you, but you were smaller, and fit into places he couldn't get into. Rolling into a crevice in one of the abandoned factories, you laughed as the boy and his friends shouted angrily at you, unable to follow.

Your joy died the second you turned the corner. The nursemaid from the orphanage waiting for you with her arms folded.

"Running away from chores again, chuma?" The woman asked angrily. You ducked your head, walking over to her. As soon as you reached her, she pinned your ear between her fingers, causing you to grumble in pain as you were dragged into the building.

"Prostite, mem." You tried to apologize, but the woman would not listen, and then pushed you inside.

"No dinner for you." She informed you by throwing a broom into your hands. "Get upstairs and go clean the roofs now!

You climbed onto the rooftops with a grimace, softly cursing all the sisters as witches.

When you arrived, you noticed that there were already other orphans there.

"Good afternoon, Vor." Pietro greeted wryly. You approached him to help him carry one of the tiles.

"Stop calling me that." You retorted, but Pietro just laughed, thanking you for your help afterwards. "Why are you here?"

"I broke Nikolai's nose." He told you, and you looked at him reproachfully.

"And you let them catch you?" You asked. "You used to be smarter than that."

"Shut up." He grumbled humorously, waiting for you to finish sweeping the area you were in to return the tile to its place. "And what did you do this time? Are you going to tell me that Madame Pavlova caught you robbing the church again?"

You laughed, finishing sweeping and going back to helping Pietro lift another tile.

"Church money is for the poor." You retort. "I'm poor, how can I steal what's mine?"

"Keep this up and you'll be in jail as soon as you get out of here." A voice spoke behind you, startling you a little.

"You're so nosy aren't you, Wanda?" You teased the girl, and she grimaced at you before looking at her brother.

"What are you doing up here?" Pietro asked before Wanda could speak again. The girl crossed her arms, watching you guys work.

"I brought food for you two. But with this hostility, I think I'll stay downstairs."

You and Pietro exchanged giggles.

"Sorry, Wanda." You asked in unison, making the girl smile. She looked around to check if there were no priests, or nuns, or orphans staring at you from the window pane below before taking some bagels and bread from a wrapper inside her blouse pocket.

"Is there any possibility that you will stop stealing and behave yourselves?" Wanda asked slightly irritated, and you exchanged a look with Pietro.

"Unlikely." You replied, making him laugh. Wanda looked at you reproachfully. "Don't make that face, printsessa. This is stealing too.”

"Don't call me that." Wanda complained between teeth. But you smiled, because you noticed the slight reddening of her cheeks. "And I wouldn't have to steal if you two would stop causing trouble."

"Or maybe you could let us starve next time." Pietro retorted wryly, and ended up getting slapped on the shoulder by his sister, making you laugh. "Sorry, that was stupid."

"You two are so ungrateful." She grumbled turning to leave. You and Pietro exchanged a look, worried that Wanda was angry. But she gave you two one last look before turning away. "Tomorrow, wake up early. I want to show something."

Wanda went down the roof next, and you exchanged a smile with Pietro before turning back to work.

//-//

Wanda poked you in the ribs and you turned your head quickly. You, she and Pietro were ducking behind a car, breaking curfew, and probably some passing law, since you were in an abandoned building.

"They arrived last week." Wanda said to the two of you, looking in the direction of the back door of the building. There were three men in suits talking in the doorway, and casually looking around to see if they were alone. "They stay there all day."

"What's suspicious about that?" Pietro asked.

"Do you guys remember those kids who disappeared last week?" Wanda asked and waited for you and Pietro to confirm before continuing. "I found the orphanage uniform in the dumpster from the building. What if they are picking up the orphans?"

"You said they speak german, right?" You retorted with a question. When Wanda confirmed, you made a thoughtful face. "What if they are Nazi doctors? They could be trying that supremacist shit again."

"I think we should leave." Pietro said next. "Before they see us here."

"Yeah, come on." Wanda agreed before taking one last look at the door meters away from you, the men were entering. Neither you or Pietro notice that one of them looked directly at the girl before closing the door.

//-//

Pietro advanced against you with his fists raised, but you ducked and shoved him in the ribs.

"Well done, Vor!" He spoke contentedly, sounding surprised. He took two more steps toward you, but you dodged, and threw your arms against his waist. You both laughed as you both fell back onto the grass. Pietro rolled you on the ground to get on top. "You can't let them knock you down, little one."

"I'm the one who knocked you down, asshole." You retort humorously, trying to get up. But Pietro is heavy on you.

"I'm letting you win, obviously." The boy says with a smile. You hate that Pietro has grown so big as to win in fights, but at least he helps you learn to fight with the kids on the street. Which was funny, since Wanda always told you to run.

"Oh, really?" You hit back and then raise your knee hard, hitting him in the balls. Pietro lets out an exclamation of pain and falls beside you to the floor, whimpering. You feel bad at the same moment. "Shit, I'm sorry, Piet." You ask, but let out a giggle, watching him gasp in pain.

"What are you two doing here?" A voice suddenly asked, and you looked forward to find the high school monitor looking at you two reproachfully.

"Shit." You grumbled already hurrying to get up and lift Pietro quickly, who seemed to fight the pain to follow you.

"Maximoff! I should know." The woman spoke annoyed, hurrying to cross the railing. You and Pietro were skipping calculus class in the usually empty area behind the gym. But before she finished crossing, you and Pietro were already running away, laughing at the curses the woman yelled at you, and something about detention for a month.

By the time you stopped running, you were in the city, in the alleyways of suburban Sokovia.

Pietro punched you under the shoulder the moment you stopped, and when you grumbled he said it was for the kick.

"Are you hungry?" You asked as you massaged the spot of the punch.

"Yes." He replied looking around. Some people looked curiously at you two, probably because you came to the scene running, but you ignored it.

"I'll get us some food." You let him know and then you are already walking away to the fair area a few meters ahead. Pietro rolls his eyes at the smug expression you cast at him before you put the cap of your jacket over your head.

//-//

"What have you two gotten yourselves into?" Wanda asked angrily, throwing her backpack on top of the torn armchair. You and Pietro took your eyes off the card game to look at her.

The little crib you set up in one of Sokovia's condemned buildings was cold and damp, but it was the closest thing to a home where no one cursed, or order any of you to clean and do any tasks, so it was your favorite place.

Usually the three of you would run away from the orphanage and school as much as possible to stay around here, but then Wanda started actually studying and you and Pietro didn't.

"Sorry, Wands, calculus isn't really our thing." You grumbled to the girl. Wanda approached you with her arms crossed.

"But athletics it is, I believe." She retorted. "If you keep skipping class, you'll get kicked off the team. The guidance counselor told me to warn you two, and she talked for half an hour, so thanks for that." Wanda grumbled ironically, and you kicked Pietro lightly to get him to stop laughing.

You reached out for the paper package you left in the corner of one of the armchairs.

"Maybe this will improve your mood, printsessa." You said as you handed the item to Wanda. She looked tired, and grimaced, grudgingly thanking you. She smiled weakly when she realized it was food. "I saved some bread for you too."

"You two need to stop stealing." She warned, but took a bite of her food. You shrugged, and returned your attention to the game.

"If we had enough food, I wouldn't need to steal anything." You retorted, and Pietro murmured in agreement, while Wanda frowned slightly.

"You could get some work, too." Wanda argues and you laugh, rolling your eyes.

"We've had this conversation a million times, printsessa."

"Stop calling me that." She asks annoyed.

You rolled your eyes again, and made a move. Pietro sighed slightly, since he was losing.

"I can call you skuchnyy, if you prefer." You retort humorously, and Wanda slaps you on the arm, making you and Pietro laugh.

"If you keep stealing, you'll end up in jail! Or worse, killed." She then adds, and you exchange a look with Pietro.

"Only if we get caught." The boy says and you hold back a laugh, seeing Wanda's disapproving look.

She lets out an impatient exclamation, and starts eating in silence. You focus on the game again, knowing that this discussion would happen again. Wanda would always complain that you were stealing, out of pure concern, and you and Pietro would continue to ignore it, out of necessity.

//-//

Sokovia, 6 years ago.

Gasping and out of breath, you kept running.

"I'm going to win." You heard Pietro shout excitedly beside you, running as fast as you.

"Shut up." You shouted back, but Pietro actually reached the finish line first. You laughed, though, trying to normalize your breathing as you sat on the ground.

Coach walked over to the two of you next, past the small crowd of students who were watching the race celebrating Pietro's victory.

"That was excellent, Maximoff." Congratulated the coach with a handshake. Pietro smiled embarrassed, and you laughed at his face.

"Come on, I'll buy you lunch to celebrate." You told the boy as soon as you stood up, and the coach had left. Pietro threw his arm around you, and you pushed him away. "Get off, you're sweaty."

He laughed, and you parted your ways in the locker room. After taking a shower, you found Pietro already wearing his regular clothes instead of his athletic clothes, but he was not alone. There was a man in a suit talking to him.

As you approached, the man looked at you and waved his hat before turning and leaving.

"What was that?" You asked curiously, but Pietro had a grim expression on his face. "Piete, are you okay?"

"Yeah." He says looking away from yours to the paper in your hands. He puts it away in his pocket before you can read it. "I need to talk to Wanda. Rain check on our lunch later."

"Okay." You mumble confusedly, watching Pietro walk away quickly.

//-//

"Pay attention, no one must see you. Go in quietly, place the packages, and leave without being seen." Warned the man in front of you. You swallowed dryly, but nodded in agreement.

You exchanged a glance with Pietro and Wanda before turning to enter through the small gap in the railing, one of the new commercial buildings on the other side.

Now that you were older, the protest groups accepted you at the marches. You and the twins had been participating for a few months now, and they were usually peaceful walks. But then one of the leaders learned that you could fit in small places, and here you were, sneaking into one of the new buildings that took the place of one of the apartment complexes, looking for the exact spot to place the packages that the group handed you.

Even though you were nervous, you made it. And it was only when you were outside that you heard an explosion much bigger than you expected.

When you saw one of the security guards with a bloody head, shouting in Sokovian for the vandals to be stopped while the rest of the protesters shouted and held up their placards, everything seemed to get a little muffled for you, and you could only focus on the powder marks on your fingers. Stumbling away, you ran.

//-//

Sokovia, 5 years ago.

"You two have lost your minds!" You exclaim in surprise and irritation, taking yourself off the wooden bench you were sitting on. Pietro and Wanda look at you with confusion.

"I told you she wouldn't understand." Pietro grumbles and you look at him with indignation.

"Really?" You retort. "Of course I don't understand, Pietro! You've both gone crazy for good!"

"Keep your voice down!" Pietro retorted angrily, getting up as he looked around. No lights had come on downstairs, so no one from the orphanage was awake. "We're doing this for Sokovia."

"Tell me how offering yourself as an experiment for German Nazis helps Sokovia?" You retorted angrily and Pietro sighed impatiently. "I can't believe you two are actually thinking of doing this."

"What do you think will happen next week when we turn eighteen, heh?" Pietro asked aggressively, and you clenched your jaw. "We'll be kicked out of the orphanage, and we'll be on the street. If we didn't have food before, imagine after that!"

"I can get us food!" You exclaim with tear-filled eyes, but Wanda gives a dry laugh.

"You're not going with us." Wanda retorts and you look at her wide-eyed. "You're going to stay here, where you have a roof and a meal, and we're not going to waste the opportunity to change things in Sokovia."

You looked at them incredulously.

"I can't believe you are going to die for your ambition."

Pietro crossed his arms, looking at you seriously. You looked at Wanda, but she looked away to the floor. Shaking your head, you ran your hands through your hair.

"We are doing this for our country." Pietro stated seriously. You disagreed with your head, feeling your throat close up from emotion. But you did not cry. "Some of us are willing to risk whatever it takes."

You give a dry laugh at the provocation. Pietro was only saying that because you stopped participating in the rallies, ever since the protests got more violent and your colleagues started damaging property, stealing, and there were even rumors of fighting that ended in killing.

"Yeah, Piete, you're right." You retorted upset. "You and Wanda want to die in a cell with needles in your arms, lying that this is for Sokovia and not to get revenge for your parents. But don't expect me to stay and watch."

You accuse bitterly before turning and walking off the roof, your tears flowing as you reach the floor below, but you don't stop walking.

//-//

"What are you doing here?" You asked as soon as you raised your head, your gaze shifting from the vegetables at your feet to the girl in front of you. It had been a few days since you had argued with the Maximoffs, and you hadn't spoken to any of them since.

"I came to say goodbye." Wanda said simply, and you rolled your eyes, getting up from the ground and shaking some of the dirt on your fingers.

"When are you two leaving?"

"Now."

Ignoring the feeling that has formed in your stomach, you just grumble in agreement, turning your back on Wanda, because you don't want her to see you cry.

"And what's this now?" You retort as you sit on the edge of the roof, looking out over the city. "Did you come to tell me that you guys are going to remember me or some sentimental shit?"

Wanda laughs softly, and you hear her footsteps approaching, until she is sitting next to you.

"Well, we've been friends for eight years, I thought I should say goodbye." She says looking forward. You want to swallow the urge to cry, because you don't want them to go. But there is nothing you can do.

"Okay, Wanda. Goodbye then." You retort bitterly, looking down at your hands.

"I wanted to give you something before I go." Wanda adds softly, and you turn your head to her to ask what it is, but as soon as you do, Wanda breaks the distance, her lips meeting yours in a sweet kiss.

You sigh in surprise, and Wanda pulls away.

"S-sorry." She says breathlessly. "I shouldn't..."

But you kiss her again. Properly this time. She is grateful that you hold her around the waist, because then she doesn't fall off the roof when she completely melts from the touch of your tongues together.

You pull away to take a breath, leaving your foreheads together. The urge to tell her not to go anywhere is stuck on the tip of your tongue, and before you can let the words escape, someone is clearing their throat behind you.

"I can't believe you kissed my sister." Pietro complains in a mixed tone of teasing and annoyance. But there is no anger in his gaze. You and Wanda move away embarrassed. "We have to go."

Wanda nods in agreement, and looks at you one last time before standing up, walking over to Pietro.

The boy nods to you before leaving. And when the roof is empty, you let the tears stream down your face.

//-//

As soon as the twins left, you joined the protests again. It kept you distracted now that you were alone. And since you hated so much free time without your friends, you ignored the way that you now always ended up with bruised hands and sore throats after every march.

You got some of your fellow protesters to help you keep an eye on the building that Wanda and Pietro were staying in, and when they stopped coming out of there, you knew something was wrong.

Two weeks without hearing about the twins, you could no longer sleep from worry. You imagined that whatever those men were doing to them would take time. But you also didn't expect that your friends would disappear.

So here you were, sneaking around the abandoned floors to find some clue to where the hell they were. You knew you shouldn't be here. It was their choice, and they knew the consequences. But you kept walking.

Hearing a metal noise, you felt your heart race and quickly hid behind a wall. But no other sound came, so you thought it was safe to move.

Another noise, and a sharp pain in your neck a second later. And then you blacked out.

//-//-//-//

Tag list> @imapotatao / @aimezvousbrahms/ @ensorcellme/ @helloalycia

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// @sxfwap // @table57 // @madamevirgo // @causeitswhatjesuswouldfreakingdo // @emptysince18x // @xastrydx

[c-optimistic]

pain

or, lena doesn’t feel her soulmate’s pain so she assumes she doesn’t have one at all

She comes to the conclusion that she doesn’t have a soulmate when she’s eight years old.

The other children at her foster home are so busy rubbing elbows they haven’t knocked, nursing bruises they don’t have on their skin, wincing at toothaches that aren’t their own, that they don’t notice Lena’s inability to relate to them—don’t notice as she draws herself further and further away from discussions about ‘how do you think my soulmate broke their arm?’ They don’t notice and Lena doesn’t care because this is good, this is better. If having a soulmate meant tolerating their pain as your own…well, she doesn’t think she deserves more pain in her life, she’s quite good as is.

(She’s never felt her soulmate’s pain—she’s never experienced a phantom stubbed toe, a ghostly pain in her head, the whip-like crack of a broken bone and the flare of pain that immediately follows. She’s never had to feel her soulmate’s skinned knees or bumped heads or even silly paper cuts and she knows it’s not because her soulmate is unnaturally careful—she knows because pain is a normal part of life—but because her soulmate doesn’t exist at all.)

When she turns nine years old, she whispers her secret to her foster mother—a kind, bustling old woman who isn’t perfect but at least triesto be—and is wrapped up in a rare hug. “You’re right to be happy about it, Lena dear,” her foster mother says as she pulls away and searches for the rather pitiful lone cupcake she bought to celebrate Lena’s birthday. “The day George died…well, I think it’s better to never have to deal with that.” When she turns back to Lena, her smile is wobbly and her eyes are wet and Lena has enough sense not to mention her foster father and how his absence is felt in every nook and cranny of that old house. “Yes,” her foster mother continues sadly, “yes. Better not to have a soulmate at all than to lose him.”

“Do you think it’s because I’mnot worth loving?” Lena asks, her voice barely above a whisper. But upstairs one of the boys lets out a loud groan as his accident-prone soulmate breaks another bone, and Lena’s question goes unanswered, her foster mother rushing off to comfort the others.

She picks up the pitiful cupcake, murmurs ‘happy birthday’ under her breath, and decides she’ll never think about this topic again.

x

She’s ten years old when the Luthors adopt her.

Lex—tall, handsome, and regal even at fourteen—tells her that the rumors are true. The adoption isa ploy to win back public favor after Lionel Luthor was ‘less than discrete.’ Lex tells her that she shouldn’t expect affection from Lillian, shouldn’t expect attention from Lionel, but that she could always—always—expect Lex to be by her side, to have her back, to be her pillar.

He tells her that she’s not his sister in blood, but she’s as good as, and he won’t allow her to fall to the wayside—won’t allow her to turn into another one of his parents’ neglected pet projects.  

And she doesn’t. Lex’s doting and careful attention to the silliest things—like how her day has gone—makes Lionel more interested in her. Soon enough, she finds herself sitting with her adoptive father in his study, enveloped in the smell of tobacco and whiskey, lulled to sleep by the sound of Lionel’s voice as he conducts business, woken up hours later by Lionel’s gentle hand on her shoulder, his eyes kind and soft. Lillian, too, takes Lex’s lead, and she takes Lena out with her, introduces her to her friend’s with a wide smile (too wide perhaps to be sincere) and a cheerful, “This is my daughter, Lena.”

(It’s enough to sometimes make Lena forget—forget that it’s not real, forget that save for Lex she doesn’t have a family, forget that she sees Lillian massage her hands and complain of arthritis though she hasn’t worked with her hands in her entire life, that she sees Lionel rub his chest where she swears she’s heard him say his soulmate had surgery, that she sees Lex close his eyes because of a headache that isn’t rightly his.

It’s enough to make her forget that she’s terribly alone—that even in a world where everyone has a soulmate, somehow she has fallen to the wayside, despite all the promises Lex has made.)

x

She’s fourteen when she receives a letter from her foster mother’s granddaughter.

It’s short, consisting of a few lines informing Lena that Geraldine has passed away in her sleep, that the photo sent along with the letter was among her things and everyone thought it was best to send it to Lena.

It’s worn and slightly faded, looking far older than it actually is, but in the picture, Lena is smiling and holding a pitiful looking cupcake and her foster mother has thrown an arm around her shoulders, her attention on something out of shot—perhaps one of the boys had just cursed or someone had asked her a question, Lena doesn’t remember. Somehow the photo makes something deep in Lena’s chest twist, but when she makes to shove it back in the envelope and hide it in a drawer so that she’ll never have to look at it again, she notices that on the back of the photo, in Geraldine’s careful handwriting, there are three short words: I was wrong.

(Lena, much more alone now that Lex has gone off to college and the novelty of her presence has faded, leaving her forgotten in the eyes of Lionel and Lillian, does not cry at the news of her former foster mother’s death nor does she contemplate what Geraldine could’ve been wrong about.

She just plasters on a smile and gets ready for school, not mentioning the letter or its contents again.)

x

She’s sixteen the day she feels her soulmate’s pain for the first time.

For the most part, she thinks she’s just lucky that it happens while she’s at home, at a time that Lex is visiting (home for the holidays none of the Luthors even bother to celebrate), the two of them huddled together on the couch watching Star Wars. She’s lucky because she thinks if Lex hadn’t been there to rub soothing circles into her back, allowing her to bury her face into his shoulder and clutch at his shirt, she wouldn’t have survived the experience.

Her soulmate’s pain is not physical.

It’s wave after wave of sorrow and loss, an ache so deep that it settles into the bones and burrows right into the chest. It’s heavy and dark, leaving her gasping for air and hoping for a respite and wondering what could possibly have happened to leave her soulmate feeling so terrifyingly broken, so horrendously alone.

Lena clutches at Lex and feels her heart break for this stranger she believed didn’t exist, this stranger who is struggling to shove the sorrow down and away, who is frantically attempting to keep their head above water, who is being torn apart with each breath. Lena holds onto her brother and she hopes that her stranger finds someone soft and warm and full of love to give to take away some of that loneliness, someone to carry some of that heavy sorrow.

Lena is sixteen the day she discovers the universe had not forgotten about her, that her soulmate is out there.

Lena is sixteen the day she wishes she could’ve stayed in the dark—willing to feel unworthy of love for her entire life—if only to spare her soulmate all of that terrible pain.

x

(Over the next few years that pain and loneliness and sorrow that takes up residence in her chest never really goes away. It is the only indication that her soulmate is still out there, still suffering, but getting better about hiding it—at pushing the pain away, shoving it deep in the bones where it lies in wait for a weak moment to strike.

And Lena finds herself taking extra care in everything she does—stepping carefully over cracks so as not to trip, avoiding alcohol to prevent the inevitable hangover, taking her time as she makes herself dinner to avoid burning herself, slowly turning the pages of her books and papers to limit the number of paper cuts—lest she cause her soulmate more undeserved pain.)

x

Sometimes she finds herself blaming her faceless soulmate for missing all of the warning signs.

Lex—her adoring, kind, decentolder brother—falls into madness slowly, the descent years in the making, the resulting crash-landing leaving all those around him bearing collateral scars. Looking back, she thinks it may have started with Lionel’s death.

She and her adoptive father were never particularly close, but after Lex goes off ‘looking to save the world,’ Lionel spends more time with Lena. He takes to having lunch with her when she’s in-between classes, asks her about her professors, chuckles as he debates her newest ideas with her. When she graduates, rather than send her off to work for Lex as initially planned, Lionel gives her a job at LuthorCorp, has her come to every single board meeting, watching her carefully as he assigns her more and more responsibility, clearly waiting to see if she would buckle under the pressure.

But she doesn’t.

Instead, she flourishes, somehow managing to keep up with grad work while spending so much time at LuthorCorp. Lionel beams with pride one evening, telling Lillian that Lena was bornto become CEO. He regales his wife with stories from board meetings, stories of how Lena managed to cow those ‘ridiculous, power hungry men’ into backing down with nothing but pursed lips and a raised eyebrow, how she’s brilliant, keeping up with his most illustrious scientists. He chuckles as he expresses how utterly sure he is that no one is quite suited for running LuthorCorp like Lena.

(What he doesn’t say—mostly because he doesn’t know—is that through it all, Lena worries about her stranger. She worries not because the sorrow and pain of loss has dulled to an ever-present throb, annoying but not overwhelming as it once was, but because she feels nothing else. There are no headaches, no broken bones, no bruises, no soreness—there’s nothing. And Lena doesn’t understand, she doesn’t understand how anyone can go through life so perfectly painless. Even she, with all her caution and all her attention, bites her lip a little too hard sometimes, drawing blood. Even she, despite all her efforts, bumps into her desk, gets headaches from a lack of sleep, and groans when she comes down with a particularly bad case of the flu.

What Lionel doesn’t say—because he absolutely does not know, could not know because she has never let this admission slip past her lips, never allowed the words to take shape—is that through it all, as brilliant as she might seem, deep down she worries that the dull throb of sorrow and loneliness she feels is not her soulmate’s pain, but her own.)

She is twenty-four the day Lionel Luthor passes away, the day she finds him slumped behind his desk, head tilted back against his chair, hand still reaching towards a glass of whiskey. She is twenty-four when Lex returns home, shaking with unshed tears and the sudden weight pressing on his shoulders now that everything has been passed to him. She is twenty-four the day she mistakes the bristle of anger, every word and gesture feeling sharp and intended to cut, for the pain of sorrow.

x

She’s celebrating her twenty-fifth birthday with coworkers the first time Lex’s madness becomes apparent to the rest of the world—the first time those cracks caused by Lionel’s death begin to grow and crumble.

One of the scientists is mid-toast, praising Lena’s most recent work and the generous funding LuthorCorp is providing for their research, when the bartender increases the volume of one of the televisions at a customer’s behest. The segment, as usual, seems to be about Superman, and Lena begins to tune out until she hears the name Luthor come up again and again.

“…sources claim that Lex Luthor, of LuthorCorp, has been developing anti-alien technology and—” The newscaster cuts himself off as the camera, which had been following Superman from a distance, suddenly pans over to the right, focusing on the figure approaching.

(It’s an image that sears itself into Lena’s mind, an image she can’t escape from that day forward: Lex, her friend, her brother, her pillar, strolling casually down the street, a bright green jewel in his hand, a wide, maniacal smile on his face.)

(She twists her ankle in her haste to get out of that bar, to escape the eyes on her, and for the first time since she was sixteen, she doesn’t spare her soulmate a thought at all.)

x

She’s twenty-seven when physical pain begins to accompany the familiar ache of sorrow in her chest.

She’s in her office, going through paper after paper that her lawyers brought her, the board having asked her to step in and bring s stop to Lex’s wasteful spending—“He’s going to ruin himself, Miss Luthor,” the executive vice president tells her, “and he’ll drag your family’s company down with him”—when she feels it.

It’s punches and kicks, bruising and achiness, and though it doesn’t last long—though it dulls almost immediately and feels as though she imagined it all just seconds later—it’s enough to make her cancel all her appointments for the day, go home, and fall into bed, drawing her knees up to her chest and burrowing her nose into her pillow.

(The physical pain becomes more of a regular thing from that moment on. Some days she wakes up feeling as though she’s just fallen from incredible heights, others she feels as if she’s gone toe to toe with someone eight times her size. On one memorable occasion, she feels the dull ache of the flu as well as a broken arm, though both only seem to last for about a day.

She goes from believing she didn’t have a soulmate, to hoping to protect them from pain, to wishing the stranger would bother to take more care. She’s tired of waking up with bruises and aches, tired of having them disappear over the course of a few hours, which doesn’t seem humanly possible. Mostly, Lena’s just tired, and she wonders if Geraldine was right after all: perhaps soulmates weren’t worth the pain.)

x

She’s twenty-eight when Lex kills those innocent people in his latest effort to ‘defeat Superman.’ Twenty-eight when she watches the coverage of his trial from the safety of her apartment. Twenty-eight when the name she was proud to call her own becomes tainted and synonymous with evil and she packs up all her things and decides she needs a new start.

x

Contrary to what Jess believes, it isn’t that she dislikes National City, even if that’s what her grimaces and impatience might suggest. It’s just that…well, it’s sunnierthan she’s used to, a sort of cheerfulness and gaiety saturating the very air she breathes even if she doesn’t share the same sentiments. But she has to admit, even if it’s something she ensures she never actually voices, for the most part, she actually rather likes the stark difference between Metropolis and National City.

For one, while National City is not her home, it has potential to become so. After all, her picture isn’t plastered on every newsstand here thanks to an absence of the Daily Planet’s efforts to consistently drag the Luthor name through mud, meaning that she enjoys a certain degree of anonymity.

For another, Lillian Luthor isn’t in National City. That in and of itself is enough to make a heaven of any hell.

But the most important difference between Metropolis and National City, the one difference that cements the latter’s place as somewhere she could consider her home, is that fact that Metropolis does not have a Kara Danvers.

And Lena is quite taken by Kara Danvers.

She doesn’t know what it is about the reporter that so draws her in. (It’s her smile, her laugh, her passion and determination to do what’s right. It’s her belief in the good of people, even of people the rest of the world has already written off as villainous.) All she knows is that she trusts Kara Danvers in a way she hasn’t allowed herself to trust anyone else—after all, look at what happened to her pillar, the regal fourteen year old who swore to always have her back.

(Lena has grown up believing that she does not deserve love, that the universe’s choice as her soulmate—a stranger whose experience with pain is unnatural at best—is ultimately a sign. And who could forget that the one person who did love her was driven to madness.

But Kara Danvers dares her to hope. And that danger, the fact that Lena desperately wants to give in, is what makes Kara Danvers so frightening.)

Lena is quite taken by Kara Danvers and National City doesn’t seem so bad.

x

It takes her an embarrassingly long time to connect the dots.

In her defense, rebuilding a company Lex nearly ran to the ground with his tunnel vision and hatred is much more difficult than she had anticipated. The alien detection device was supposed to be her trump card—it was supposed to guarantee her company’s financial security. She doesn’t quite expect Kara’s words to hit so close to home, doesn’t expect her mother (adoptivemother, she reminds herself) to be the leader of the anti-alien terrorist organization, doesn’t plan to have her last name dragged through the mud yet again.

She’s understandably distracted and busy, frantically attempting to keep her company from falling apart, all the while wondering if the effort was even worth it anymore. She doesn’t think she can be blamed for not noticing the signs.

(Not the signs that Kara is Supergirl—no, that one is terribly obvious, Lena would have seen through Kara’s dreadful lying in her sleep. Sometimes Lena wonders if Kara actually makes any effort to hide it in the first place—“I flew here on a bus,” honestly.

No, she’s referring to the signs that blatantly state that Kara/Supergirl is her soulmate. Something she should have noticed probably that fateful night in her own lobby, when she watched Supergirl get tossed into the L-Corp sign—ironic, really—and she felt the surge of pain in her own body.)

She finally realizes the truth several weeks later. It’s nearing two in the morning, and she’s still at her desk, flitting through papers and downing her second glass of wine. Since discovering Lillian was behind CADMUS (an unfortunate discovery which still makes her shudder, both at the knowledge that her adoptive mother is so twisted and the fact that Kara/Supergirl has so much faith in her), Lena’s spent every waking moment raking through every single report coming in and out of L-Corp, needing to make sure her mother hasn’t soiled the company with her hate. Her laptop is open, streaming a local news broadcast with the volume turned way down, and it’s only by luck (or fate, if she believed in that sort of thing) that she looks up.

And there, on the screen, is an image of Supergirl facing off with what looks to be a human with bright red eyes. The camera shakes a little and Lena abandons her work in favor of turning up the volume, eyes fixated on her laptop. Kara says something, but the human with the red eyes doesn’t seem to care, and with a resounding kick, he knocks Supergirl straight into a wall.

And Lena’s back blossoms with pain.

Nothing much escapes her other than a soft ‘oh,’ unable to move as she watches Kara stagger to her feet, shaking off the impact easily (Lena barely registers that she no longer feels the pain, gone as soon as it came) and shooting forward.

The camera feed gets cut off at that point, returning to the news anchor who swears that they’ll get an update as soon as they can about Supergirl’s faceoff with this newest threat, but Lena’s not listening.

She’s just wondering what Lex would say if he found out that his sister’s soulmate is none other than his worst enemy’s cousin.

(She laughs as she pours herself another glass of wine.)

x

“Are you planning on telling her?” Alex asks suddenly, pulling Lena’s hand away from where she’s rubbing her side (she thinks Kara might’ve broken a rib after blowing out her powers earlier in the week), her eyes narrowed in annoyance.

“Tell who what?” Lena asks, gently tugging her hand out of Alex’s grasp and busying herself with searching for a clean glass. With a huff, Alex reaches up and grabs one for her, rolling her eyes when she notices Lena’s slight wince of pain when Kara jostles her injury as she attempts to steal back the television remote from Winn.

“Don’t insult my intelligence, Luthor,” Alex says, making Lena chuckle. Their friendship (if it could be called that) took time to grow, mostly nurtured by Kara’s constant attempts to get them to spend time together, her determination to ensure everyone got along. And while Alex’s penchant for using Lena’s last name had been a…well, a sore point between them initially, it’s since turned into something of a teasing nature—something resembling an easy camaraderie that Lena’s never actually had before. “You’re being stubborn and it’s…tiring.”

Then again, Lena thinks, perhaps she still needs some time to get used to Alex’s blunt manner.

“I don’t know what I’m being stubborn about, you’ll have to elaborate.”

Alex’s mouth opens and closes several times before she rolls her eyes and places her hands on her hips—a gesture so lovingly mimicked by her sister when she wants to look tough or imposing. Lena thinks it’s adorable. “Are you going to tell Kara you’re her soulmate or not? Because this is getting painful to watch.”

It’s Lena’s turn to be speechless, turning away from Alex’s pointed glare directed at Lena’s rib, where she feels a throb she’s sure Kara feels ten-fold. She hopes Kara will get her powers back soon, for both their sakes. “I’m not ready yet.”

“What do you mean you’re not ready? You’re soulmates.”

“It’s more complicated than that—”

“—what’s complicated about—”

“—and it’s best to just…keep quiet. For now,” Lena says, ignoring Alex’s interruption. “I’m happy to have Kara in my life as a friend.” She is, she’s undeniably overjoyed. From their weekly lunches, to the nights she spends with Kara and her friends playing board games, to the first (and hopefully many more to come) Christmas they spent together, being Kara’s friend has been…warm, safe, strong. And she doesn’t trust the universe enough to ask for anything more than that.

“What do you think will happen if you tell her? That she’ll stop being your friend?” Lena’s silence is answer enough apparently, because Alex’s expression softens, and she reaches out to squeeze Lena’s elbow, just tightly enough to ensure Lena understands the gesture, the silent promise. “She’ll figure it out on her own. And then you’ll regret not telling her sooner, sparing yourself all the…whatever you’re doing.”

“You’re not going to tell her?”

“No,” Alex grins, “I’d hate to steal your thunder, Luthor.”

x

Kara gets her powers back the next day while Lena’s busy telling Maggie that the latest threats from her brother aren’t credible or important. Later, Kara refuses to tell Lena what triggered the adrenalin response that ensured her powers returned.

x

Lena Luthor is twenty-nine the first time she believes she might deserve love after all.

(The universe, it turns out, isn’t as crazy as she first thought—isn’t out to get her like she’d convinced herself all those years.)

This change of heart is thanks to Kara Danvers (or, of course, Supergirl). It’s because of the way she smiles, the way she laughs, the way her eyes widen when Lena bumps into her desk while circling around it to pull Kara into a hug after she talks about Krypton and her family for the first time, both of them feeling the pain of the hard desk and the pain of sorrow and loss at once. It’s the way Kara doesn’t run away like Lena had feared, but instead smiles wider and says softly, “I’d hoped it would be you,” words Lena thinks she should tattoo onto her skin, etch into every crevice of her ribcage, surrounding that familiar ache of loss Kara—and Lena—carry around, a burden that feels manageable now that they’re together.  

(She’s twenty-nine and when Kara kisses her for the first time she understands why Geraldine said she was wrong, understands the preoccupation with soulmates and belonging, understands why there were clichés about love being worth the pain.

She’s twenty-nine and Kara is soft, she’s warm, and it’s as if it’s one mad cosmic joke that her soulmate had to travel thousands of light years just to make it on the same planet as her. She doesn’t know what the odds are, doesn’t care, because it’s all she can do to remain on her feet, all she can do to not pinch herself and reassure herself that this isn’t all a dream.)

Lena is twenty-nine when she presses her forehead against Kara’s, eyes still closed, chest still heaving, and says, “I would’ve waited forever for you. You’re more than worth it.”

[otomelavenderhaze]

oh my gosh THANK YOUU you're so cute. I always love what you write about May+Rayan (I asked about their apartment if you remember, but then I was wayyy too shy to ask without being anon) you're so smart and have good ideas about them 🤧 anyway, my questions finally 😅 first of all the name Rayan Zaidi sounds pretty Arabian, but there are a bunch of Arab-inhabited countries + he doesn't have to be a born Arabian maybe he's French and his great grandparents or something like that were Arabs 1/2

2/2 and also, most Arabs (if I know right) are muslims. soo do you have an imagined nationality/origin and religion for him? also could you write some random things about Lilly and Daisy? like, what they are like, if they argue a lot, which parent are they closer to, anything (I love little kids omg 🥺) and lastly (it might be personal) could you give me your address? so I can steal your hands???? maybe that way I will be able to draw finally 😢 and that's all for now, thank you ❣️

Ah! So it was you xD if you want to read more about them in general you can always check out May’s tag too, there is a lot of content that I created a while ago. I do need to get through everything and sort it out better, but for now you can always take a look too. 

Pfff, you going to steal my hands? How I can give you my address knowing that? xD I wouldn’t be able to pet my cat, draw our bae Rayan or even play Stardew Valley anymore G-G I need my hands, sorry kkkkkk 

I will admit that I’m not well versed about the whole political-immigrant situation on France, so I’m very sorry if I just fall off the mark on this one way too much. 

A while ago we had a whole discussion about it, because apparently, Zaidi is also a North African surname too. But apparently, this name has whole other different origins and ways of spelling too, being is most common in Pakistan.

I personally think that it’s either what you said, that his grandparents came from another country, maybe chased away a little like how it happened with Priya’s family and built a new life in France. Or maybe his father or mother is french and his other parent is really Arabic or even Muslims. 

I personally liked the idea that he is part North African, maybe a mix of even Arabic or Pakistani too in there, and since the plot of being an immigrant has never come up for Rayan’s route, I think he is french but maybe he is the first generation or the second to be french on his family. 

From what I've observed in the game, Rayan doesn't seem to be a person very attached to his culture or even very religious. He is very rational, questioning and I think even cynical about things that do not have a logical basis, despite being very creative and like subjective things. 

I never stopped much to think about what his religion would be, I guess I’m still waiting for a clue from the game before anything else, and maybe because that never really was my main concern. I did felt kinda wrong while talking about his marriage ceremony with May, but in my head, I decided for something more tied to more civil and formal, not so religious. 

Random things about Lilly and Daisy:

~ Lilly is very outgoing,��inquisitive, stubborn, inventive and she got that thing that certain kids do that they know how to manipulate a little bit, just so they can get their way. May is the one that normally says more “no” to her and know how to make the kid give in and do what she wants. Rayan is the one that finds Lilly amusing, so he lets her manipulate him, just so he could spoil her. May spoils her too, but she is more strict; 

~ Daisy is shyer, quieter and observer than Lilly, she is also very creative and cheerful, but in a more mature way even. You can say that Daisy took that from May while Lilly took more over her father; 

~ Lilly loves reading, play pretend and create stories for her favorite toys, Rayan and May find it naturally endearing, they often indulge her and later on talk about the amusing things that Lilly’s mind came up with, they often think about it and laugh together (but never in Lilly’s presence, because they don’t want to discourage her); 

~ Lilly is more Dad’s girl than Daisy for sure, but her relationship with May is pretty close and affectionate too. Rayan, however, understands her better and spend a lot of time together, playing and showering her with his attention; 

~ Daisy is more a mom girl, that sometimes only stops crying when mom take her and comforts her. That makes Rayan jealous kkkkkk despite the fact that he does a pretty good job by himself to make her stop crying, but sometimes just mom will do kkkk; 

~ Lilly is pretty selfish about her things, it’s hard to make her share with Daisy and Daisy often is pretty about wanting things just because Lilly won’t give them easily. On those times, May and Rayan try to be firm and come up with a solution that does not cause a third world war at home. May is better solving the conflicts tho, since Rayan get’s torn between his two cute little girls way too often (he hates saying “no” to both of them); 

~ While Lilly likes reading so she connects better with Rayan through it, Daisy connects better with May through art and painting. Since Daisy was just a baby, May would often let her mess with her paints and her minor projects, always encouraging that side of her; 

~ Often Rayan takes Lilly with him for the university in less busy days, where he would actually give intense classes, normally she accompanies him to the field classes, to deliver notes and work presentations. To that point, she became even more famous than him on the campus, all his students find her the cutest and just too well behaved; 

~ May often take Daisy to her workplace too. They don’t like to rely on a babysitter for the girls, because they’re both too small to be (that’s what they think), so they often try to work from home the most or try to keep their schedules in a way that one of them is always home while the other is out; 

~ Their couple time will be damage to it in a way, but they’re also always trying to not neglect one another - having a night out, leaving the girls with May’s grandparents to spend the night or even just for some hours. The thing is, when they can, they will try to include the girls as much as they can. They would never neglect them either, so they’re always trying to find a balance and stumbling around it. 

I hope that you like it, I want to write something about it at some point too and I do have planned some drawings with them, that I expect to get into it at some point. I do get pretty shy about sharing, because I guess this is a part of Rayan’s and May’s life that feels more self-indulging for myself than interesting for others, but I will try to speak more about them in the future too!!

[untilweyeetagain]

SHE-RA WEEK DAY 4 - battle/promise

Pairing: Catra/Adora

Summary: In the aftermath of the battle, Catra finds her lover in a situation they had both hoped to never be in. Written for #sheraweek day 4 - battle/promise

Word Count: 1259

Warnings: Descriptions of blood, gore and injury, death, war

The field looked like it had held a massacre, and it had. There had been a victory, but it didn’t feel like one when one saw the carnage caused by yet another battle. They had just scraped a win by the skin of their teeth, but at what cost? How many lives had been lost in this battle? In this war?

It seemed like the war had been going on forever, and there were no signs of it stopping now. Catra had been born into the war - it was all she had ever known, and now she was 22 and fighting in it. No one could even remember what had triggered the war - those who had been around when it started were long gone by now, but the new generations had yet to end the fighting. 

Catra sighed, wiping off droplets of blood that had been about to drip into her eye from a cut on her brow. She was exhausted, both physically and mentally, and would like nothing more than to just crawl into the nearest comfortable spot and sleep, but she had work to do. Very few soldiers were still alive, and most of those who had managed to survive were gravely injured. 

She looked around, knowing there were people around her who needed medical attention but searching for someone in particular, her first priority no matter the situation. Her search became more frantic when she couldn’t see the familiar head of blonde hair anywhere close. Catra feared the worst - that she had been taken hostage by the few enemy soldiers that had escaped, that she had been blown up by a land mine and was disfigured beyond recognition. 

Of course, there was always the possibility that she had deserted, that she had escaped the battle and left, but Catra didn’t want to entertain that thought. If Adora had done that, she would likely never see her again, as she’d be in hiding from the army officials who would be out for her head, and if Catra did get to see her again, it would be while she was in front of a firing squad.

It was when she was about to give up her search, give up hope of ever finding her, that she finally caught a glimpse of her. Adora was on the ground, surrounded by a puddle (that was closer to a small pond) of blood as well as numerous dead bodies, the identities of whom Catra didn’t know. 

She ran to Adora’s side, hoping and praying that she was alright, that she wasn’t dead, but when she reached her, she saw how bad the situation was. Adora’s side had been torn open, blood spewing out and her insides mangled. The girl was unconscious, but woke up when Catra lightly shook her head. She wasn’t dead yet, but it looked like she would be soon.

Catra was choked up, a gasp coming up her throat but getting caught there as she stared down at her girlfriend’s butchered body. She swallowed past the lump in her throat, suddenly frantic again, and she screamed across the bloodied field for a medic. She screamed until her voice was hoarse, her hand on Adora’s neck reassuring her that the blonde was still alive. Her pulse was weakening though, and it was becoming glaringly obvious that there were no medics available, and that she didn’t have long left. 

Adora whimpered quietly when Catra shifted her body so that her face was less squished against the ground from where she had fallen onto her front. Catra knew that she must’ve been in incredible pain, and she wished that she could do something about it, but all she could do was grip her hand and whisper reassurances that everything was going to be okay, even though both of them knew that that was a lie.

She didn’t know what to do - her girlfriend lay here in front of her, bleeding out, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. They had both known this was a possibility when they had been drafted four years ago, but neither of them had wanted to acknowledge it. They had been by each other's side for as long as either of them could remember, having grown up together and been in the same class throughout their education and then being drafted in the same squadron. 

For their entire lives, they had had no one but each other, Catra having run away from home and Adora being an orphan, unaware of her parentage. They had been placed in all the same foster homes - they were a package deal; where one went, the other went. That had been true their whole lives, and they were closer than anyone else they knew. They had finally gotten together six years ago, after years of pining after one another. 

Catra had tears running down her face, clearing paths in the grime that coated her cheeks. It was unbearable, watching her Adora in such pain, knowing that this would be the first time she went somewhere Catra couldn’t follow. The thought broke her heart, and knowing that in only a few short minutes they would be torn apart permanently was enough for her body to begin shaking, heart-wrenching sobs clawing their way up her throat as she knelt over Adora’s still body.

Her sobs only subsided when she felt a weak tug on the sleeve of her shirt, and she glanced down to see Adora’s eyes open, her hand gripping Catra’s sleeve with all of her strength. Adora opened her mouth as if to speak, but all that came out was a series of coughs that sent blood flying out of her mouth onto the already blood-soaked ground. When her coughing fit was over and she was left shivering, she tried again, quiet words falling from her lips.

“Catra?” The girl in question hummed in answer, whispering that ‘yes, it’s me, Adora’. “I need you to-” a cough that shook her whole body interrupted her, but she kept going, “I need you to promise me something. Promise me, that you’ll take care of yourself without me. Promise me that you’ll keep going,” this seemed to be all she could say, as her voice trailed away. Her pulse was slowing now, her heart giving up on her.

“I- I promise, ‘Dora, I promise. Please, don’t go, don’t leave me, I can’t do this without you, please…” she cut herself off when she felt Adora’s heart beat one last time under her fingertips, the last of her life slipping away. She felt herself become overwhelmed with tears once more as she sat on the unforgiving ground next to the corpse of her now-dead lover, her heart left broken now that the one person who had held it together was gone.

She was dimly aware of the others still on the battlefield, the corpses lying still and the survivors being treated for their injuries and being escorted to their camp nearby, but she felt numb, her entire world laying in front of her, her still-warm hand held tightly in Catra’s grasp as the brunette fell to pieces. She screamed, trying to find an outlet for the grief and pain coursing through her veins, but it wouldn’t fix anything. No one could fix it now. She was left alone in this cruel world, left to fight in a war she didn’t start, left to face life on her own. 

“I’m sorry, Adora, but I don’t think I can do this. Not without you.”

[hybridmlments]

dragon age inquisition male romance options reacting to you being a serial killer

I got excited and did a few more than just the romanceable ones, including Krem, Varric, and your dear Quizzie Ceri 💖

Disclaimer: All of these are mlm regardless of whether it’s “canon” or not.

Iron Bull

The Bull knew from the beginning, Ben Hassarath training, remember? Perhaps that should have been reason enough not to get involved, but it wasn’t as if he hadn’t done terrible things himself. He looked for signs of regret and despair every day, and he saw them often enough that he convinced himself that this was just a sickness you had, it wasn’t an indication of your morality. But, soon he starts to notice a pattern.

He notices that the irritability and tense muscles occur in the week approaching that one night where you have a mission for the Inquisitor that you just can’t get out of, so you’re going to be gone until tomorrow, and you’re so sorry but you’ll make it up to him. The blood splatters on your clothes and skin aren’t akin to fighting bandits and those on equal standing, the tears in your clothes show sign of a struggle, but not your own. You weren’t regretting killing, you were suffering from the absence of it. It was an addiction, you revelled in it - for days afterwards you’d be on a high that couldn’t be stopped. Your grin would make your face ache, your laughter could be heard all over Skyhold. It made Bull grow solemn, and distant, something you tried to fix but you couldn’t - you’d didnt understand what you’d done after all. He didn’t let himself talk about it, what right did he have? He was a killer too.

Dorian Pavus

Dorian had his suspicions when he was first hanging up your clean clothes, you insisted they had servants for that but he did so long to organise your wardrobe, feeling the fabric of your clothes between his fingers and coming up with new systems and categories to arrange them. You should have been more careful, a white shirt was never going to be rid of the stains - the red on the cuff from where you’d restrained your latest victim. When he asked you shrugged it off, saying you really shouldn’t have worn white on a mission in the Wastes. Dorian didn’t believe you, not really - he knew signs of a struggle when he saw them. He’d wanted to though, he forced himself to ignore his better judgement.

Of course, your final kill was too far, he was willing to ignore the signs for only so long, nobody’s perfect after all. You didn’t expect Dorian to find you, not when you’d been so careful - you’d picked a warehouse in the outskirts of Val Royeoux and used Inquisition forces to capture Halward Pavus, he’d pay for what he did to Dorian. And you were so sure his son would be ecstatic at the news, you planned it all - to come clean when he discovered and he’d be thrilled. That was the plan. One that went awry, because Dorian followed you, he followed his gut instinct for the first time in so long but it was too late - by the time he got there you were already standing over his father’s corpse, grinning from ear to ear. You tried to explain, reason with him, anything - but it was all for naught. He stayed to vomit and sit with his arms wrapped around his legs, he stayed to stare at his father. But the moment he had regained his composure he ran, leaving you with the torn silk from his robes in your bloodied hands.

Ceri Trevelyan

“It is with sorrow that I announce your next judgement,” Josephine said solemnly, trying to disguise the tears in her voice. “A man who I think needs no introduction, [Y/N].” Knelt in front of the Inquisitor was a man she knew, someone she’d laughed with, played cards with, a friend, so she thought. But she couldn’t let her feelings betray her - no matter how difficult it was for her, for Ceri it would be a thousand times harder. No one should have to judge their lover, the only one Ceri ever truly allowed himself to trust.

He sat on his throne, his posture small and tight, his chin resting in his tight fists which made a table for his head as his elbows rested on his knees. His purple eyes stared at the man he thought he knew, he tried to look for signs that his prisoner regretted his choices, that it was in fact an elaborate con - it wasn’t his lover at all! He was tied up in the basement! Unfortunately, that didn’t happen. Instead his lover knelt patiently, refusing to look at the Inquisitor, instead preferring to fixate on the floor so their face was covered by their hair.

“Don’t you have anything to say in your defence?” Ceri snapped, as he waited for his prisoner to speak. He flinched at the sound noise, and Ceri felt his chest ache with guilt. “[Y/N], please. Please give me something.”

“I can’t,” you reply quietly, so much so that the Inquisitor could barely hear you. “I won’t. You betrayed me. The moment I told you, you had me in shackles-”

“I had no choice! What else could I do? I can’t let you repeat your mistakes. I-“ Ceri hesitates and curled on himsel even tighter. “Will you stop? Ever?” He ended desperately. “Give me something.” You shook your head, you were prepared for the answer, when he gave the order for your execution, the whole room was silent. You lifted your chin and allowed yourself to look at him one last time.

“I have one final request, Inquisitor,” you said, formally enough that it made Ceri squirm. “I wish for you to swing the blade yourself.”

Thom Rainier / “Blackwall”

Blackwall denied it for a long time, growing angry whenever someone brought up anything about your behaviour. He didn’t think there was anything remotely suspicious about you being often covered in blood, nor did he notice your giddy demeanour at the executions. Blackwall adored [Y/N] and that was that. Of course you came home with dark stains over your clothes, the Inquisition was brutal work. And it was also the sort of job where you disappeared for hours at night. He eventually berated himself for not seeing the signs, but then he had just wanted to think the best of you - was there any harm in that?

Perhaps that’s what made you so relaxed, you never tried too hard to hide your actions in regards to your partner - he was far too trusting, stupidly trusting you thought sometimes. On occasion it made you angry and scared, thinking of all those who would manipulate and take advantage of him. You were certain that he could walk in on you on the battlements with blood on your hands and organs on your armour and you’d be able to talk your way out of it. When that happened however, you both just stood in silence - lying became difficult, and Blackwall couldn’t do it to himself any more either.

What made it worse is that the victim was a nobody - it wasn’t a noble, an enemy of the Inquisition or [Y/N], it wasn’t a criminal... it was just nobody. A random person taken from the streets, as Blackwall stared at the torn apart, brutalised pieces of the body he wondered if they had a family, where they shopping for food? Did they have a decent job? Maybe they were a merchant themselves, or a farmer. Would their children be able to eat tonight? He voiced this, he shouted it so loudly that you were certain someone would here and you’d both be doomed. But he only spoke, he still helped you dispose of it, he never mentioned your activities again, simply nodding and going quiet whenever the subject came up. Afterall, you weren’t the only one with a secret.

Solas

“Mm, well done, excellent technique, if a little grotesque... But overall very nice. I can’t say the same of your attempts to cover up your little night time habits though,” Solas said as he entered, his voice smooth and steady and causing you to jump from your skin and let out a yelp of shock. You slowly turned around to see the elf stood in the door way, a smirk on his lips. You stood above your victim, a fucking Shem whose favourite past time was torturing elves - those were your targets. Solas would understand that, he had to. His expression said as much, and he approached you with that smug sadistic demeanour you knew so well. You thought he’d help you destroy those who’d hurt and oppress... but he was just looking for a new agent, and he knew just how easily you could be controlled.

Cullen Rutherford

You didn’t realise for a long time that your beloved knew, but it started to all connect after a while. The apostates who’d been all too easy to track, so much so they basically fell into your lap and begged to be killed. And they all came from Cullen. Every single one was pointed towards you from the War Table and it was your commander’s suggestion every time. You realised over one of your’s and his nightly games of chess. He picked up the bishop, and took your rook. A foolish mistake, truly. You walked right into that one.

“Well, that’s not a mistake the Inquisitor would usually make,” Cullen smirked, leaning back in his chair after he’d finished his turn, resting his hands on his gut. “Normally you see everything coming then you go in for the kill.” You froze and looked up at the knowing, piercing smirk. He knew what you did, and not only did he not care - he was playing with you the entire time.

Cremisius “Krem” Aclassi

Cremisius Aclassi had seen his fair share of death and everything that came with it. He’d seen blood magic and watched the Chief’s eye be ripped from his head, he still saw the man with a bloody empty socket when he closed his eyes. He didn’t consider himself squeamish, or easily frightened. From living as a lower class Tevinter to the army to working for the Inquisition he’d been raised around this sort of life, even a tailor’s kid saw his fair share of muggings, stabbings, slave hunters, and houses being burned to the ground... but none of that prepared him for what awaited him when he walked into his chambers that night.

When you told him you had a surprise for him, he’d been excited - a little wary, as he tended to be, but he was looking forward to returning from the Herald’s Rest. Of course, the moment he entered and saw you sprawled across the bed, he couldn’t saw a word - his body convulsed, shook, his eyes rolled backwards, and he doubled over with his pints of beer mixed with Shepard’s pie rapidly gushed all over the wooden floor. You sat up instantly, rushing to his aid, barely aware of the fact that you were naked or that the blood from your victim was staining your legs and gut. Perhaps this was too much, you had been so sure him coming home to see you, sprawled out on the bed, naked with a Tevinter Magister’s head covering your genitalia would be so romantic... You’d have loved it. Unfortunately it turned Krem into a shaking terrified wreck. You tried to comfort him but he flinched away from you, shaking and weeping on the floor, rocking back and forth - barely aware of his knees being soiled by vomit. Eventually he stood to his feet, you tried to aid him but he pulled away, stumbling. He couldn’t speak, but his thoughts were more than clear.

Varric

Varric enjoyed murder mysteries and detective novels, they had a nice formula that felt welcoming and calm to him. Maybe that’s why he figured it out so quickly, he didn’t dawdle, didn’t wait for you to kill again. He simply showed up to the scene of the crime one day, shaking his head and letting out the mother of all sighs.

“Shit, what have I got myself into now?” He said as he helped you clean up. He didn’t approve, that much was clear - but as far as he saw it he’d gotten involved with worse people than cutthroats, assassains, and murderers. Some of his best friends fit those categories.

“Listen, sweetheart,” he said to you, as you threw the sack of limbs from the cliffs of the wounded coast. “If I could find out it was you, it won’t take long for anyone else to. You gotta make yourself much more subtle. I can help with that.” He had his standard smile, but his eyes weren’t quite the same after that. He tried to see it as a hobby or a personality quirk - but it got harder every time. He often thought of turning on his heel and leaving you, but he was never the sort to give up. He mated for life in a way.

[vampireknightmusings]

Responses: True Love (Why Zeki Has It And Yume Doesn’t)

“This whole ship war wouldn't even be a thing if you guys didn't deny Yuuki's eternal and romantic love for Kaname. You make all these posts trying to negate her feelings for Kaname...”

Full post here.

Romantic love is a subjective thing. Every person has an individual notion of what is, and what is not, acceptable within a “true love” scenario. Some people believe in the existence of love at first sight, while others need some time to pass for the couple’s feelings to be considered love as opposed to a crush. In this post, I will explain my own views on what constitutes a genuine romantic love.

The first thing I find to be necessary is for the two partners to know each other. By this, I mean that the two know each other well enough to accurately predict their partners responses to certain stimuli, and even if their partner acts unpredictable, they must understand the motivating factors behind their actions. his knowledge of each other leads directly into their ability to trust each other. 

Zero and Yuuki spend the first arc getting to know each other, flaws and all. The more time they spend with each other, the more they come to understand the others motivations and feelings. Zero knows that Yuuki's selfless nature hides the fear that she was unwanted as a child, while Yuuki knows that Zero has always wished for her happiness above all else, even to his own detriment. The pair trust each others judgement even when the two of them are acting as “enemies”, neither getting in the other’s way. 

On the other hand, Kaname and Yuuki spend very little time together. Before Zero came into the picture, Kaname was actively putting distance between himself and Yuuki, only coming to see her when he was tricked into doing so. This distance was never bridged and a solid bond of friendship was never truly formed between them. Kaname continues to treat sixteen year old Yuuki as a child, despite claiming to be in love with her, which shows that his image of her hasn’t grown up with her. He still views her as the Yuuki he knew before Juuri sealed her memories. Yuuki puts Kaname on a pedestal, much like the other love struck day class students. 

So what does Yuuki know about Kaname? Well, she “knows” that:

1. Kaname is a pacifistic vampire who wishes for co-existence as much as Kaien Cross does. Except that he goes on to indiscriminately murder vampires who work for the senate regardless of whether that individual vampire is corrupt and puts humans on a pedestal of his own, granting them a right to exist that he doesn’t grant purebloods.

2. Kaname saved her as a helpless human girl, a stranger to him, when he didn’t need to. Except that he was her brother and was the reason that she was there in the first place, having temporarily abandoned her to remove the vampire threat behind them.

3. Kaname is her brother. Except that he actually isn’t her brother, but the progenitor of the Kurans and her direct ancestor.

4. Kaname views Cross Academy as his home as much as she views it as hers, and that he will protect the people he cares about as she wishes to. Except that he attempts to have her abandon her friends at the height of the danger in order to escape themselves.

How is Yuuki supposed to form a genuine love based on the person that Kaname is if everything she thought she knew about him was incorrect?

The second important thing for a love to be true is the ability to make each other happy, and beyond that, to be able to put their loved ones happiness above their own. This theme in Vampire Knight is explored through smiling from the heart. Yuuki states, in response to Zero’s asking how she can keep smiling, that she wants Zero to smile also. She has sacrificed her life’s blood for Zero in order to give him a reason to live and to give him some happiness, without knowing that she is already providing it for him. 

Zero confronts the vampire that he hates the most to get the answers that Yuuki is desperately seeking, resulting in his neck being torn apart in an effort to make him drink from said vampire. He endures a lot of abuse from Kaname  that he would not experience if not for Yuuki. He keeps his own feelings for her under wraps out of respect for Yuuki’s feelings for Kaname. He pushes Yuuki away from himself and the academy in order to be with Kaname, as he believes that Kaname can provide her with all she needs to be happy. He also actively protects her both before and after the reveal of her pureblood heritage.

Kaname is unable to make Yuuki happy, openly admitting that she doesn’t smile when she’s with him towards the end of Vampire Knight, and Yuuki is unable to make Kaname happy in turn. Kaname’s greatest mistake in this regard is craving the bond that Yuuki has with Zero rather than cherishing his own unique bond with her. He admits to wanting the Yuuki who had cut her hair as a symbolic gesture regarding letting her feelings for him go. In this way, he sets up his own misery in his relationship with Yuuki.

As for Yuuki, once she is in a relationship with Kaname, she is unable to see the friends she cherishes, is unable to dress as she wishes and is unable to leave the house at all. The demands that Kaname puts on her strip her of the things that make her who she is. Rima comments on the fact that Yuuki is wearing pinheels rather than the comfortable shoes that are easy to run in that she prefers. This all contributes to Yuuki’s feelings of insecurity. The more Kaname asks things of her that are not natural to her, the more he changes her, the more she is going to feel that she is not good enough. This, in turn, leads to her unhappiness and misery with Kaname. Furthermore, Kaname burdens her with his suicidal feelings when she attempts to stand up to him, making her feel even worse about herself. He claimed to love her for who she is, so why does he try to change her so much?

Another important component in a true love scenario is the partner’s ability to provide comfort for the other. Their presence is often enough to provide the comfort their loved one needs. We can see this with Zero, who finds comfort in Yuuki’s arms, and with Yuuki, who is able to reveal her true emotions to Zero without fear of rejection. Instead of distracting her in this instance, he offers her a solution to her. Both are able to talk to each other and understand each other. The pair are comfortable in each others presence.

When Yuuki attempts to talk to Kaname and seek comfort with him, he often tries to distract her rather than dealing with the cause of her discomfort. When Yuuki is having nightmares because she can’t remember what happened before she awoke on the mountain, he brings her attention back to him instead of comforting her or listening to her concerns. He fails to listen to her when she tries to ask about pureblood families later on as well. 

From Kaname’s end, Yuuki is unable to provide the comfort he wants. He reveals snippets of his past to keep her with him and gets hugs from her, but he doesn’t get reaffirmation of Yuuki’s love for him, and she remains unspontaneous with her affection. When he asks her what she truly thinks of him, he is hoping for something positive from Yuuki. Instead, she lists negative character traits alongside superficial traits such as his appearance. She even questions if he loves her, which can’t feel good.

A fourth necessity is the ability to bring out the best in their partner. More specifically, a partner wants to better themselves not only for themselves, but for the one they love. Yuuki often finds her strength through Zero, and many of the actions she takes are, in part at least, because of him. He encourages her to be the kind-hearted, loving woman that she is without demanding anything or taking anything from her. He encourages her to live her life for herself, and to find happiness in the little things. Yuuki provides Zero a reason to continue living once Shizuka is gone, and is able to convince him that co-existence is a goal that should be striven for. She also helps to bring out his kind-hearted side, which he later expands to others. 

As much as Yuuki tries with Kaname, she is unable to bring out his best. Though she tries her best to give him a reason to continue living, she can’t help him escape his despair. Due to the feelings she cannot control, she brings out Kaname’s jealous, needy side. Due to these same feelings, he ends up attempting to control her in order to keep her by his side. Eventually, instead of acting with Yuuki to provide an acceptable out for purebloods who have lived too long and fighting for co-existence between humans and vampires, he decides to eradicate pureblood vampires entirely.  

Kaname brings out Yuuki’s insecurity and inferiority complex. By placing on her the blame of “leaving him alone” as a child and using that fear and her empathy against her, he causes her to question herself and see herself as the child she is often treated as. He puts so much of a burden on her that she cannot bring herself to stand up to him when she thinks he’s wrong. Yuuki herself states that if she stops doing what she thinks is right, then she will no longer be herself. This is foreshadowing to the Yuuki she will become with Kaname. She no longer shines as she once did, and Kaname doesn’t give her a reason to shine.

Most of the things I think are necessary for a true romantic love have been covered in these points. I hope this provides enough of an explanation for why what you may consider to be “negating” Yuuki’s romantic love for Kaname is actually just Yuuki misdiagnosing what those feelings were in my view. I strongly believe that true romantic love is born from a deep friendship, and is an incredibly powerful emotion that is difficult to shift. That Yuuki was able to put those feelings to bed fairly quickly once she was awakened as a vampire tells me that they were just not what Yuuki thought they were.

I’d be interested to hear what others consider necessary to true love, however. I’m sure there are many different views to mine! And I’d just like to say that I am speaking for myself, and cannot speak for any other Zeki shippers. This also isn’t meant to incite any further ship wars, it was simply meant to explain my point of view when it comes to the topic at hand. 

Thank you for reading!

[smokedstorybara]

I’m compiling a list of all my wips w/ summaries here to remind myself what all I should be working on and keep myself accountable - and if y’all wanna yell at me about them please do

(Also be warned there will be some spoilers in here cause I suck at non spoiler-y summaries)

Fanfics:

Dear Evan Hansen:

(Apprentice) Park Ranger Handsome part 16 (doesn’t even have a name yet I’m so sorry)

Evan and Connor’s first date!! They go to the orchard of course, and have more relationship conversation... and a picnic.

Fae Court AU

Prince Connor of the Winter Court falls in love with a human boy and acts on it, despite his parents having Rules against relationships with humans. The consequences are big but Connor and Evan weather them well.

Flash:

Soulmate AU (I’m thinking ‘Dream A Little Dream Of Me’ for series title)

A series of one-shots following the Arrowverse characters - with a bit of a focus on Team Flash and the Legends - as they find love and happiness , with some bumps along the way, in a world where you share dreams with your soulmate. Timeline is spread out from Stein and Clarissa’s first meeting to some point around mid canon.

endgame ships include Barry/Len, Hartley/Cisco, Wally/Jax, Sara/Ava, Nate/Ollie/Felicity/Lisa(it’ll make sense I promise), Iris/Caitlin/Shawna, and more

Role-reversal AU

In a world where Barry was kept strictly away from the file on his mother’s murder after he becomes a CSI he grows resentful and distrusting of law-enforcement and a little quicker to recognize that he can’t entirely fix the issues with the police from the inside. So when he wakes from a nine month coma with super speed his first thought is how much he can shove the police’s faces in the fact that the system isn’t perfect and needs to change... he becomes the world’s fastest thief - unbeatable. At least until he goes after a certain diamond at the same time as one Leonard Snart, who walks away from the encounter looking to the world like a hero and gets a sweet taste of positive press that he’s not all that eager to give up.

Harry Potter crossover

Snart and Rory go “backpacking across Europe” on a ridiculous challenge to steal one thing in each country. Their last stop is in England and they’ve set their sights on a suburb in Surrey... which leads them to noticing the treatment of the young nephew of their potential target. Being survivors of abuse themselves they decide to remove him from that environment... along with all of Vernon Dursley’s valuables. Raising a kid is hard, raising a magical kid while maintaining positions as master thieves? ...piece of cake...

Check Please:

Moving On

When Jack and Bitty go through a messy breakup their friends are torn and Bitty is uncertain about what to do, especially when he has to go back to Georgia - where he’s firmly in the closet - for summer break. He can’t talk to his family or his friends about all his conflicting feelings about what happened, so he somehow finds himself corresponding with the one person who he knows would understand - Jack’s other ex, Kent Parson. He also finds himself growing closer to the previous year’s freshmen on his college hockey team and the team’s new manager - especially when summer ends and they’re all handling the situation better than the rest of his friends - ie: behaving like nothing happened except that they’re immediately down to fight Jack at a moment’s notice.

The Umbrella Academy:

Ghost Dave (that’s what it’s called in my google docs but it’s definitely not gonna be the title of the final product)

Dave Katz has been haunting the surviving members of his unit for a couple decades when the story about the 43 women comes on the news; a story Dave had heard plenty about before he died from his lover, Klaus Hargreeves. In whose tellings of it he was one of the children born that day. He also had claimed a few times to be from the future so Dave was fairly willing to take this as proof he was telling the truth. Immediately Dave seeks out Reginald Hargreeves and the 7 of the children he adopted. Over the next 29 years Dave follows the young Klaus around, giving him advice and unconditional friendship and protection from the other ghosts the poor kid could see.

Circle Of Magic crossover

When Tris finds herself dropping out of some kind of portal in a strange land it doesn’t take her long to figure out that some mage had decided to get rid of her - and possibly her siblings - by banishing her to another world, one with advanced technology but not much by way of magic - if one didn’t count the six super-powered siblings she appeared in the middle of. At the same time, but also not, Tris’s adopted sister Sandry wound up smack dab in the center of a group calling themself The Commission who’re very interested in adding her to their ranks, she joins up but maintains suspicion. Daja, the third sister, follows a pair of assassins. And their one brother, Briar, falls into the Vietnam War alongside one freshly tortured Klaus Hargreeves. They all find their way back together eventually - with much fewer casualties than if they hadn’t been there

Harry Potter crossover 1

When an eighteen-year-old Klaus Hargreeves gets bored of being lookout on a mission in London and wanders into the bar across the street he isn’t expecting to find a best friend, but that’s exactly what happens. Lily Evans is a couple months into a break-up and still tired of her ex and his idiocy, especially after his most recent letter - a pile of stupid big enough to send her straight to her local bar. The two hit it off instantly via complaining about anything and everything and egging each other into doing the most ridiculous but fun things. Their night of fun turns sour when Klaus finds out his brother Ben died during the mission and at least one of his siblings blame him. Lily takes the broken boy back to her flat and let’s him stay with her until his visa to stay in England runs out. Thirteen years later the apocalypse is interrupted by a tired ex-professor bringing life changing news - Lily was pregnant when Klaus left England(they’d slept together a handful of times but were never more than friends with benefits), also Lily and her husband(the idiot ex who apologized and changed his behavior, Klaus was at their wedding) are dead and Klaus and Lily’s son was placed with his aunt Petunia(who Klaus has met and knows the boy never should’ve been put with) because only five people besides Lily and James knew who Harry’s father really was and the only one capable of doing anything about it had to find the wandering junkie first. Klaus handles all this about as well as a powerful veteran with a traumatic childhood can - fighting tooth and nail for custody and then raising the boy the best he can with help from his siblings and robot mom and shoving his son’s happiness and safety in the faces of everyone who did the boy wrong

Harry Potter crossover 2

Not long after the war ends Harry finds that he can’t stand staying in magical Britain any longer, so he takes his godson and moves to America. Six years later one of the kids who live across the street sneaks out his window, wearing only pjs despite the heavy snow. Harry finds himself staying up waiting for the boy to return to their street and making some hot cocoa - which he offers to the boy as soon as he sees him. It quickly becomes a Thing(tm); Klaus will sneak out his window in the middle of the night, go for a walk, and eventually wind up having hot cocoa in Harry’s kitchen. They form a strange friendship, one where Klaus has someone he knows he can go to when everything becomes too much - even if that means crawling through Harry’s window, collapsing on his floor in tears, and falling asleep on his couch, waking up just in time to get home before his absence is noticed. Three more years have passed when Harry and Teddy are idly watching tv and Harry sees a very familiar face as Reginald Hargreeves introduces ‘the inaugural class of the Umbrella Academy.’ When Klaus comes over that night Harry asks how much choice Hargreeves gave him and his siblings in their ‘heroics’. After some thought Klaus remembers how his brother Ben hadn’t wanted anything to do with what happened at the bank but was made to participate anyway. He answers honestly: they weren’t really given any. Thus begins Harry’s campaign to get custody for the kids from Hargreeves.

Original Works:

Four Elements Universe(a collection of stories set along one timeline - very far apart and with no overarching plot, just a shared world):

Sisa:

A secluded young king sneaks out of his castle and gets a job under a false identity in hope for friendship, then gives everything up to help his new friends and the rest of his people when he realizes the extent of his adviser’s corruption. Around the same time, a teenage master thief is hired to steal a specific box from the castle - and then to help another thief break her friend out of the castle dungeon - and uncovers several major secrets that might just change the fate of the kingdom.

Kings:

Bandit King Vakhtang’s life is irrevocably changed when he agrees to lend his men to a rebellion for a hefty amount of gold. Over time he finds himself growing fond of the boy prophesied to be the next king and learning just as much from his new employer about letting himself care and open up as he’s teaching the boy how to protect himself. (His best friend and lover is very proud of this growth and kinda wants to adopt the kid)

The Completely Unrelated Adventures Of Four People Who Had Nothing To Do With Each Other Beforehand:

Four teenagers in rural Texas follow a cipher they found in an old tome and discover that all four of them have magical abilities, and that their town may not be as average as they’d believed. As they delve deeper in this new world they uncover two different secret organizations and find themselves caught in the middle of a dangerous conflict over a powerful artifact - that may or may not be the kid sister of one of them.

Mythicals:

Six kids around the world each find objects - artifacts - that grant them magical transformations and abilities. Seven years later all six of them end up at the same prestigious performing arts school in New York. When they discover that they all have these artifacts and powers - and that New York and possibly the world is in danger - they team up to protect everyone else, and quickly become close friends. Though one of them has a secret that could drastically change how the others view them... and possibly risk the fate of the human race.

Eternity And Forever(this one does have an overarching plot):

Eternity Of Forever:

Back in the early years of humanity a young man goes up a mountain for his Trials of Adulthood - a series of three trials set to test a person on the traits of whichever three gods they’ve been assigned to serve - unfortunately for this boy he’s been chosen for the gods of empathy, loyalty, and love... three traits that do not come easily to him. In his desperation to pass his trials he cheats the system and gets caught. As punishment he’s cursed to live forever just on the cusp of adulthood but never reaching it, the only way to break his curse is to prove - with no possibility of dishonesty - that he’s capable of the three traits. Over the next few millennia he gets caught up in a war for the fate of all life on earth, and also somewhat adopts a maybe-alien and falls in love with a time traveler.

Throughout Eternity:

At some unknown point in the future all that’s left of the human race is a refugee colony on an island floating above the desolate remains of our planet. It’s into this that Quinton is born. But when it’s discovered that he can travel through time with just a thought he’s trained for a very important mission: to go back in time and stop the apocalypse. Shortly into his mission he meets an immortal teenager who claims to have met Quinton’s future self and who offers to help, telling him that first thing he should do is gather a team to help him - he even provides names and years. This little team becomes like a second family to Quinton, especially the pretend-aloof immortal.

Forever And After:

After the death of the closest thing he ever had to a father, Slythus finds himself applying to the superhero school the immortal had founded - despite knowing that even if he were accepted into the student body he’d never be accepted by the student body. Somehow he manages to get in... and even more impossible; manages to make friends. But even as he learns how to be good, his past is lurking on the edges of his new life and quickly becoming impossible to ignore - figuratively and literally.

Shadow Warriors:

After the dragon Svartr gets cursed protecting a village from invaders they offer their children to be trained by him - to take care of him as his condition worsens. Those selected and taught by him become known as the Shadow Warriors. Alexir was born several generations after the tradition began of sending every twelve-year-old up Svartr’s mountain for the selection and she never expected to be chosen, being much more focused on intellectual growth than physical, so when it happens it comes as a bit of a shock. She struggles to keep up with her peers in most of the lessons but refuses to give in, pushing herself to reach their level while also learning the complexities of friendship from them all.

Consequences(originally titled ‘Consequences of War’ until I realized it’s more about just consequences for actions in general - like: don’t piss off the powerful magical Being hiding out in the abandoned building):

After deliberately pissing off what they believed to be a ghost - or a false rumor more likely - a college aged idiot ends up being banished into a strange world... with a distinct change in biology(mostly in the area of hormones and primary sex characteristics). As they travel this new world in search of a way home - and back into their original form - they learn new things about themself and make interesting new friends. They find themself questioning whether they actually want their ‘old body’ back and then, when they begin to fall in love, whether they really want to return to their old world.

[odderancyart]

A Few Days of Late Autumn

Happy Birthday, @kyuko-chan!!!

Here’s some Blackcherry High School AU!

...

26 October

We got a new classmate today. The entire school buzzed with the news this morning as gossip spread through the hallways. According to them, he had been expelled from the Royal Academy, which obviously means he must be rich as fuck: the Royal Academy is only for the absolute elite, after all. The children of politicians, CEOs, nobility.

Early this morning, while the sun still was low on the sky, I sat in my chair in the classroom – clad in high-heeled black boots, which I had polished until they basically shimmered in the light from the lamps, black and white striped jeans, and my hot pink turtleneck – with my feet thrown up on the table while Slim slept in his seat next to Blue (the idiot needs to go to bed earlier, for fuck’s sake, it’s not strange he’s always exhausted), and Jennifer was yelling about the latest episode of her favourite show, or whatever. Wow holy hell that’s one long sentence, huh? Anyway, that’s when we heard the doorknob turn. I threw my legs of the table, sitting properly, just in time before Ms. Toriel (our principal) stepped inside. I could see Blue elbow Slim awake in the corner of my eye.

Following Ms. Toriel, who as always wore a perfectly neat suit and, as always, was sneering – was the new kid. As I first saw him, I froze. I might’ve forgotten to breathe too? Not sure. He has a jagged scar running down over his eye socket, a bit like mine but less clean. A gold tooth, which gleamed in the sunlight coming in through the window. And he certainly knows how to dress: biker boots, torn jeans, and a black shirt with the Anarchy-symbol in red. Which, admittedly, is kind of weird from a member of the uppermost class, but whatever.

The most noticeable thing, however, was the fact that he had a cocky smirk on his face. I’ve never seen anyone look cocky in Ms. Toriel’s presence: she is fucking terrifying.

And yes, I admit. He’s fucking hot.

Seems like an asshole though, and a different kind than me. He leaned against the desk, despite Ms. Toriel’s awful glares, as she introduced him. “This is Red Gaster,” she said, and her dislike was very obviously in her voice. He didn’t seem bothered, though. Whispers filled the classroom – everyone knows the name Gaster. Is he related to Dr Gaster? The King’s advisor? He must be, mustn’t he? How many Gaster families can there be? “He will be joining your class from now on. Mr. Gaster, is there anything you’d like to tell your new classmates?”

“Hiya,” he told us, saluting lazily. His grin widened. “Nice to meetcha.”

His accent is… offensive. That’s all I can fucking say. That’s our accent, and it’s easy to hear it’s been trained in; and I can literally only think of one reason someone from his class would want to speak like us. I’ve heard what people say about it, after all. Heard how people judge those who speak like that. There’s a reason I’m training mine away. I highly doubt I will get anywhere in life while speaking like a ‘gutter rat’. But he can afford the luxury to sound like that for his own amusement, I suppose. If he’s a part of the Gasters, he can do whatever the fuck he wants and face zero consequences. Everyone would hire a Gaster, or let one into their university.

Fucking unfair. Bet I’m smarter than him.

Probably stronger too, even if he has big bones.

Life is unfair. That’s a lesson we’re taught early around here. No one will give a damn about you when you’re poor and working class. We’ve only got ourselves.

Well. Then Ms. Toriel gestured for him to sit, which he did, in the only free seat. Which happened to be the one next to me. I had known he’d sit next to me, obviously, since I saw the added seat when I entered the classroom, but my soul still skipped a beat and I wasn’t sure what to do because fuck he’s hot but god he already makes me angry.

So I just nodded.

“Hello,” he said and made himself comfortable, and then our teacher entered and began the lesson.

Even though he made one or two attempts on talking with me I didn’t humour him: I don’t talk during class. Even if I was tempted, for some reason. If I did, I’d never learn anything, get detention, and get stuck in this shithole forever, and I have aspirations. Not a goddamn chance I’ll let some random, if good-looking, stranger stop me from reaching my dreams.

Later that day, as I was hanging out with Blue and Alphys at lunch – I still regret introducing them goddammit they won’t stop ganging up on me and they’re both committing treason – we saw Red hanging over the fence. He was talking with another skeleton in a fancy suit – the school uniform of the Royal Academy, I believe. Their suit was lazily put on, though, and their tie not even tied. Fucking hell that’s so ungrateful. And I heard him say, “Yeah I’ll take this school with storm, man. They won’t know what hit them.”

Which is bullshit. Watch this privileged asshole not surviving a week in a public high school. I am shocked he didn’t throw a fit when he saw the food.

 27 October

Alright… I admit, he’s fitting in surprisingly well. Still a fucking asshole, but perhaps our kind of asshole rather than the kind I expected from someone from the cream of society. He’s absolutely related to Dr Gaster, though, seeing how a tall skeleton who appears to be his brother – who is also handsome as fuck why that’s so unfair – in a fancy red cabriolet which carried Gaster Industries’ mark picked him up after school yesterday. And today he came on a fucking motorcycle. Because of course he has a motorcycle. Of course he drives motorcycles.

It’s beautiful. Sleek and black with red details. A Ducati. Oh my stars I- Oh fuck it yeah I am jealous as hell it’s absolutely gorgeous and I’ve been dreaming about driving one like it for years. One day, Razz. One day. I technically don’t even have my license yet, even though I can drive: I had a neighbour teach me, but we can’t afford the license for now. Once I get a job, that’ll be the first thing I save up to buy. And then, I will get a beauty of my own.

God I am squeezing my pen so hard right now. I want one so badly.

But back to Red: We sat together in class again, and we actually talked a little before class began. He seems to have learnt not to talk to me while class is going on already, that’s good. Today I was wearing a black and red rockabilly-dress, by the way, that I found in the thrift shop last weekend. It’s absolutely gorgeous. I think he noticed, I saw his gaze on it. That did feel nice. I do appreciate when people, even if they’re assholes, can recognize my beauty and sense of style.

Actually I think I like him a bit more now. Just a tad.

I did find out he doesn’t live at home. Imagine being able to move out at eighteen. I’d love to but well. Even if I could afford it, that’d end in catastrophe, because neither dad nor Slim knows how the fuck to care for themselves. When I came to visit they’d live in chaos and eat instant noodles for dinner every day. What would they do without me? How the fuck did we survive until I started taking charge, anyway? I mean dad can manage, obviously, but his standards are much too low.

So Red lives in an apartment just at the border between our side of town and the finer parts. Only two blocks away from another, richer, school district. And he has a brother, as I suspected, who is still at the Royal Academy and is planning on becoming a Police officer, and the dude I saw him talking to yesterday is his best friend and distant relative (second cousin thrice removed or something), Sans Gaster. And yes, he���s the fucking oldest son of Doctor Gaster, the country’s most prominent scientist and the King’s right-fucking-hand. What the fuck.

What the hell did he do to get expelled? Did he kill someone?

Anyway I have a History-essay to write, on the great monster-human war and how the Treaty was written.

 28 October

It’s Friday! Blue and I am going out on the new club down the corner, it looks awesome. Dad doesn’t want me to go, of course, he’s overprotective as always, but he knows by now that’s not going to stop me. It’s going to be great. Especially since I’ve already finished my homework for the weekend and so it doesn’t matter if we drink and stay up to six am and sleep until noon. Plus, I finally get a chance to wear my latest find: this short, black dress that’s all glittery. It’s fabulous, especially with a black leather jacket.

 29 October

I-

Last night-

Fuck.

I don’t even know how to write this down.

I’ll take it from the beginning.

So Blue and I went to the new club, and we looked fantastic. He had torn jeans and a tank top in dark gold with a leather jacket over, and I had my dress. The music from the nightclub was loud already before we came there, we could hear it down the streets. (I don’t imagine the residents were too happy but whatever.) After showing ID, we were soon allowed inside, luckily there was no queue.

And the inside was every bit as cool as we’d hoped. Flashing lights in rainbow colours, a dancefloor, a fucking smoke machine. The bar was crowded and served the most amazing drinks and it was so much fun. We danced for hours and probably drank a little too much, but we’re eighteen and it’s weekend so it was whatever. I haven’t had so much fun in weeks, and Blue chatted up this pretty girl inside. Not sure if he likes her or if it was just him being tipsy. Blue does become a flirt when he’s drunk he’ll even flirt with me. It’s hilarious. I mean he’s smooth as fuck, not denying that, but anyone would think it’s funny when your best friend-since-childhood is drunken-flirting with you and asking you stuff like “Are you a SAT? ‘Cause I’d do you for three hours and forty five minutes- with a ten minute snack break in the middle.”

Like I said, hilarious. I love drunk Blue.

But when we were going home. It was four am. And I don’t remember all of it, but I know what happened, more or less. We were tired, and giggly, and more than a little drunk. Being drunk doesn’t take away a lifetime of being on your guard, at least not for me, but it does take away my reflexes. Stupid. Why did I ever expect to be safe? Pure idiocy.

And suddenly we were surrounded. I can see them before my eyes. There were at least five of them, they were huge like mountains. And their eyes- So cold, so cruel. So greedy. I’m shivering at the memory of how their eyes racked over our bodies, like we were objects. I felt like someone had doused me in ice water and nausea rose that had nothing to do with me being drunk. It was terrifying. I’ve never been so scared in my life. I can fight, but again I was drunk and they were many, and bigger.

“Well, well,” one of them murmured, leaning toward me. I felt his breath on my face, gross and foul-smelling. They’d cornered us, and he put his arm next to the wall, and I threw out with my arm over Blue. He’s not innocent or weak in any way but he hasn’t been through the shit I have. So I feel like I should protect him, even if he hates it. “What do we have here?”

“Leave us alone,” Blue said, defiant as always. I could hear his voice tremble, though, and I think they did too because they laughed. Laughed.

Fury spiked through me and it only grew as another one added, “What’s two little sweethearts such as yourselves doing out here all alone, in the middle of the night? Lookin’ for some action?”

I punched the one in front of me. Straight in the face. And as he staggered backwards in shock, as the others processed, I grabbed Blue and ran. I can still feel the adrenaline pumping through me and my soul pounding in terror as we ran as fast as we could through the streets, hear the fast clicking of our shoes against the pavement. My mouth was dry as sand and I wasn’t even looking where I was going because I saw them follow us, yelling angrily. They were furious. Who knows what they’d do to us if they caught up?

We turned around the corner, and Blue was just a step before me now because he’s the fastest runner, and we ran straight into something soft on the other side. I froze, my breath catching in my throat as I forgot how to breathe, before I recognized the faces. Red. Red and his friend, Sans.

They stared at us for a moment before they heard the shouts, and I didn’t even know what to do so I grabbed Red’s wrist and pulled, yelling at him that we had to get out of here they were going to- I didn’t finish the sentence. I was afraid of what they were going to do when I couldn’t even access my magic because of the intoxication.

I’ve never seen anyone look so similar to dad as Red did in that moment. The absolute fury on his face, and he moved my hand to Sans, and Sans grabbed Blue. They only nodded at each other and then Sans pulled us into an alley nearby.

I remember screaming.

We were worried about Red, Blue and I – who wouldn’t be, apparently he was about to take on five men at once. But Sans, after introducing himself with a short “The name’s Sans,” told us to worry about our followers instead and I really didn’t give a flying fuck about them. My heart was still pounding so hard I wondered if it was trying to escape my chest as I closed my eyes and listened to the sounds.

Then, a Police siren came from the distance, and Red appeared in the entrance of the alley. “Oh fuck. Time ta leave.”

He and Sans brought us to Red’s apartment, which wasn’t too far away. They picked out some warm blankets for us and sat us down in the sofa. Red made hot chocolate for us both but I couldn’t finish it before I fell asleep. On Red’s shoulder. The next morning Blue and I woke up in Red’s bed, with the world’s biggest hangovers, and my soul was in my throat as I realized where we were, but I didn’t need to worry. He and Sans had both slept on air mattresses on the floor. That’s… surprisingly considerate, isn’t it?

They made us breakfast and ginger tea against the hangover, and Red told us what had happened last night, how he’d beaten up those creeps. He’s battle-trained, says his father made both him and his brother learn how to fight remorselessly. Which… okay yeah that’s attractive.

Now when we finally felt safe again, I listened and honestly? I can’t deny that he’s… nice. I… yeah. He’s nice. But that doesn’t at all explain why I constantly felt the urge to reach out and touch him when we were eating breakfast, or why I blushed as he complimented my dress. I’m confused and it’s annoying. The weirdest thing is that, when he patted my shoulder when Blue and I were going home, I didn’t want him to let go, and felt intensely aware of his handsomeness.

 1 November

Sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.

Yeah.

I spoke with Blue about it and he says I have a crush.

Dammit.

3 November

I have so much to write.

The past two days have been a rollercoaster and I’m all giddy right now. Slim actually checked in on me to see I’m alright because I was giggling to much. So yeah I absolutely had a crush on Red. And when we went back to school this Monday it felt kind of awkward and my soul did flips when he asked if I was okay. It might’ve been a little hard to speak to him too without stumbling over my words but I’m not confirming anything.

But he hung out with us all day, and he’s so fucking charming? I’m still thinking whether I should mention his accent or not, but god. He has these super dark jokes, and they’re the funniest thing, and I also found out he lets giggly. So I hung out with him after school and we went to the Starbucks on the corner and drank coffee, and he also tipped the barista really well. And we have so much in common? He was very happy to tell me about his motorcycle and we talked about astronomy and it just… worked.

It was kind of sad when I had to go home. But then- then.

He asked me out on a date.

And I gaped and could hardly answer him for a few moments, and he looked so adorably anxious as he smiled at me, and then I just threw myself around his neck and said yes, of course.

So after school today he brought me out on his motorcycle outside of town and it was amazing. I sat behind him on it, holding around his waist, as the landscape flashed by and the motor purred so wonderfully, and he was really warm in the chill of late autumn. We stopped at a biker bar far out on the countryside, where he seemed to know quite a lot of people. It was really nice, with an old jukebox and dim lights and, apparently, rivalling biker gangs who weren’t allowed to fight in there or they’d be forbidden to come back.

Red bought us soda and pommes and burgers, and we just sat there and talked and ate, and somehow, we began holding hands. I can still feel his fingers around mine. So warm and gentle. He smiled and told me, “You’re lovely.”

And then, on the way back, he let me drive a bit. And it was brilliant. His arms around me, and I couldn’t stop grinning as the motorcycle reacted to my smallest command. It was so… Oh, he leaned his head against my helmet and his ribcage against my back, my leather jacket, and we flew past nature on the empty highway, it was magical.

Unfortunately, the day ended much too soon, and he brought us back into town. And as he dropped me off, he hesitated, and he looked so handsome in the dim light of sunset in his biker jacket, and then he dismounted the bike, and slowly leaned in toward me until I could feel his warm breath on my face, and asked, “May I?”

I nodded, breathless, and he kissed me softly, embracing my waist. I grasped his face between my hands and held him, and I felt him smile into the kiss.

I couldn’t stop smiling as I stared after him as he jumped back on his bike and left, looking back before he disappeared around the corner. Then I went back in and told dad to shut up about my love life I’m legally an adult now and he can’t tell me what to do.

Oh stars I’m so happy I can feel my entire body tingling. I can’t wait for our next date.

[kimmycup]

Japhael Strapped to an operating table, please 😄

Daily updates whaaaatttt? XD Also funny how both Japhael prompts ended up very similar but it’s gonna be great. Had fun with that one.

Seventh prompt fill for my @badthingshappenbingo card! To be found on ao3 here.

“Wanna go to the pool with me tomorrow?”

Raphael looked at Jace from where his head was bent over a book, pen in hand but not really making any notes or reading. He eyed the book for a moment before giving up on studying, pushing it all aside and focusing on his boyfriend.

“I’d love to, but I’m busy all day. I heard there’s a special price ticket for a midnight swim, though?”

Jace smiled, trying to hide his disappointment. Raphael never went out with him during the day. He wasn’t sure if he ever saw his boyfriend in the sunlight. At first, he had thought Raphael was ashamed of him, but then Raphael had introduced him to his friends, and Jace felt a little bit more at peace with their relationship. Leaning in for a kiss on the cheek, he smiled at the other boy.

“Sure. Midnight swim sounds romantic.” He teased, and Raphael rolled his eyes at him.

Jace didn’t mind Raphael having his secrets. Not when Jace himself had enough of his own. He stayed over for a little while longer, latching onto the chance for some of Raphael’s famous tamales, but eventually had to kiss him goodbye, before the sunrise caught him, considering he actually had classes at noon.

He left the familiar dorm building with a small smile on his face, entering the vast, warm darkness of a summer night, inhaling the fresh air. He allowed his feet to carry him through the park, relishing in how calm the world looked without anyone around.

He felt something sharp sting him in the neck, hand moving to find the guilty insect. He remembered nothing after that.

***

Jace woke up to the realization every part of his body ached, quickly followed by the terrifying awareness of what every part of his body meant.

His wings were out.

He struggled to move, trying to assess what was wrong, and promptly noticed he was strapped to an operating table, face down in a massage-style cradle, only definitely less relaxing with nothing but the worryingly bloodied floor in his line of view, hands stretched forward and held by leather straps at his wrists and elbows, his ankles, knees and lower back similarly restrained, leaving his wings outstretched and vulnerable.

He felt a strange tug at them too, keeping him from closing them and causing pain every time he tried. This did not bode well.

Whoever had taken him, if they had known about his wings, that meant they must have been incredibly dangerous. And Jace had a sinking suspicion of who exactly they were.

“Jonathan, my son.”

Jace was fully aware that struggle was futile in the compromised position he was in, tightly restrained and exposed but the very voice still made him instinctively flinch and look for a way to flee.

“Dad.” He hissed through his teeth, unable to keep the venom out of his voice.

“It’s been a while since we got to see each other.”

“Funny, I didn’t miss you.” Jace kept pushing at the straps holding him down, knowing he would only draw blood but too overwhelmed by sheer panic. “I sincerely hope this time when I get to see you die it’s for real.”

Jace felt a cold hand find its way into his wings and he felt his whole body shiver violently against his will, trying to move away from the unkindly touch. Valentine’s fingers just dug deeper into the wing, tightly closing around the feathers, making Jace bite back a whimper, suddenly happy his face was out of view.

“Such beauty… wasted. Truly a shame.” Jace’s wings twitched, causing Valentine to just yank harder, plucking a few feathers out. “Still, you were a largely successful experiment. I shouldn’t have thrown you out. You failed but I may still try and make some use of them.”

Jace tensed again, praying if he tried hard enough, his bonds would just magically disappear and he would wake up safe, in his bed, at home, with Raphael.

“They–” He spit out, hating the way Valentine made him feel objectified. “–are a part of me. And I’m not going to let you play with me like you always did this time.”

Valentine laughed, his grip relaxing, hand casually flowing through Jace’s feather, the touch making Jace want to vomit. Then Valentine’s hand stilled and gripped his wing tight, right where the bone was, twisting to the point it felt like burning agony, on the verge of breaking. Jace felt tears of pain prickle at his eyes as hot breath suddenly appeared near his ear.

“Let me? It’s sweet you think you are capable of doing anything but screaming right now. But don’t worry. I will fix you. I will find a way to make them work. I will pull them apart to find out every detail about the way they function and then I will take them for myself.”

Heavy silence suddenly rang loud in his ears as the hand disappeared, only uncomfortable tingling and painful unawareness left.

“I no longer need you attached to them.”

Jace felt his heart skip a beat, Valentine’s heavy footsteps suddenly retreating, followed by the deafening sound of the door closing. He could feel helplessness smothering him, uselessly tugging at the bonds.

Praying for Alec to help him, he allowed himself to be afraid.

***

“I need your help.”

Raphael stared, surprised, at his boyfriend’s brother in his doorway. Alec Lightwood looked definitely formidable in his black leather jacket, cargo pants, and… was that a bow on his back? Raphael’s eyes widened slightly. What was going on here?

“What the hell are you doing? I kind of have a date with Jace in an hour so I’m not sure–”

“–Jace got kidnapped.”

If it were possible, Raphael would have felt his heart stop.

“…What?”

“He never came home last night. I realized when I was trying to come over this afternoon. I tried calling him but his wasn’t answering his phone. I called Simon and he never turned up to class. I have… reasons to believe something happened. I would take Izzy or my own boyfriend but they are both unfortunately unavailable and Clary’s useless so… Jace trusts you, I’m ready to trust you too.”

Alec eyed him up and down in a way that made Raphael frown.

“And you seem… well, less useless. Can you fight?”

Raphael raised his eyebrows, wondering what the actual fuck Jace had gotten himself into. He was a trouble magnet, but this seemed more serious. Alec continued, blunt as ever, before Raphael could answer.

“Can I trust you? Are you ready to fight for Jace, no matter how you may find him?”

Raphael didn’t hesitate, already grabbing his jacket.

“In a heartbeat.”

***

Valentine didn’t return alone. There were people with him, several men, all in white shoes and greenish pants that made Jace think of doctors, except they probably did everything but help people.

Neither of them said anything and the silence was worse than any verbal promises of pain. Jace had never really known how much he relied on seeing until suddenly he found himself in this situation, feeling more helpless than if he was blindfolded.

He was at war with himself, telling himself to stay calm, to not move, whilst every cell in his body seemed to shiver with fearful anticipation.

Every step, every shoe that appeared in his line of view, every rustle of fabric and clinking of metal made him imagine things, his body suddenly hyper aware of the temperature and movement of air in the room.

He was torn between closing his eyes, as if the darkness could somehow comfort or protect him, a childish instinct, and between keeping his eyes open, just so he could catch a sliver of something that would help him.

Something metal clinked softly, but still overly loud on the tiles right under Jace’s face and with widening eyes and growing terror he realized what it was just as a gloved hand retrieved it off the floor.

“Wait, what the fuck was that?” He started to reflexively struggle in his bindings as reality sunk in. “That looked like a syringe. And it was fucking huge. What the fuck was-”

He tripped over his own words as the table he was lying on suddenly moved, bringing him up, giving him view over part of the room - operation room- he was in, although limited at an angle as he was.

The tools and bloody stains in sight did nothing to help calm him down and neither did Valentine appearing in front of him. Years of experience suddenly kicking in again, Jace steeled his face to not show one emotion in front of the man.

“Fascinating thing, bone marrow.”

Jace’s wing jerked instinctively, remembering all too well the descriptions of a procedure he had read at university. Valentine caressed his cheek in mock gentleness, making Jace’s insides twist in a neausating way while someone grabbed his wing, forcefully stretching it and trapping it in the crushing hold of something that locked it in place.

“The thing about birds, you see, is that they don’t have bone marrow. Not like humans. But you, you are a failure… Too human. Your bones are full and heavy and useless.”

Valentine spat the last word out, his hand slapping Jace’s face as it left, the strap holding his head in place making it unable to flinch away. Valentine moved his hand to Jace’s wing and once again Jace felt violated, hurt, dirty, just praying for the hand to disappear.

“I need to know why you can’t fly.”

Valentine plucked out a fistful of feathers as Jace whimpered in pain but he was quickly distracted by an even worse horror as something huge invaded his wing, biting its way between feathers into the bone, making Jace’s whole body explode with pain. It was a burning, unnatural kind of feeling, sucking and overwhelming and numbing, making him feel like he would pass out from pain.

Another needle bit into his other wing and he could feel silent tears roll down his cheeks. Everything was blurry…

***

Wings.

White, dusted with gold and speckled with bright red blood. Mangled, broken, and dirty but still majestic, breathtaking, beautiful like the man himself.

Raphael didn’t take time to process that information. He didn’t hesitate to rip Valentine’s throat out the moment he saw the man. Between him and Alec’s exceptional skill with a bow, the room was soon littered with dead bodies, the other man already freeing Jace’s wings by the time Raphael was done serving justice.

Soft sobs wreaked through the golden boy’s body as Alec was gently getting rid of the straps, one by one, revealing angry red welts where the leather bit into body as Jace struggled. Raphael wished he could kill Valentine again.

He gently approached his boyfriend and helped Alec ease him off the table, smoothing the soft fringe from half-open eyes.

“It’s alright. It’s alright, Jace. Can you walk?”

Alec’s voice registered with Raphael, Jace mumbling something akin to confirmation, his legs clearly not getting the message.

“We should hurry out. We don’t know who else may be coming.”

“He’s heavy. You’ll have to help me carry him.”

“If I may…” Raphael swallowed, fully aware he didn’t want to anger Alec Lightwood. “I can bite him. You saw I’m a vampire. If I bite him, the venom will give him some strength until we reach the car, and it should work like a temporary anesthesia, dulling his pain. It will help.”

Alec eyed him suspiciously but seemed to carefully consider it before nodding. He kept his eyes trained on Raphael as he had chosen a spot on Jace’s back close enough to the wings so it would be most effective.

Inhaling softly, focusing on his task, Raphael bit in, careful to not get lost in the sweet taste… God, how did Jace taste so good? He really shouldn’t be thinking about that. Tearing himself away before Alec put an arrow through his head, Raphael was happy to see that Jace seemed stunned, but a bit more aware, a bit less in agony.

“You’re a vampire… That’s why… midnight swim…”

It must have sounded like gibberish to any outsider, but it brought a weak smile to Raphael’s face as he put himself under Jace’s other wing, helping Alec carry him.

“I am. And you’re my angel. But we have to get you fixed first before we can resume our date.”

***

“Raph… I am hurting. Everywhere.”

Jace mumbled the words, eyes closed, not even checking if it was indeed his boyfriend by his side.

“I’m not surprised, unfortunately. Sorry to say so, but you will probably hurt for another few days. Magnus was here and he healed you – apparently Magnus is a warlock? I feel like there is quite a lot I missed about our friends.”

“Mhmm. Yeah, that. My wings feel like lead.”

“Valentine tried to take your marrow for examination, without anesthesia, and he ruffled your feathers quite a bit. Magnus says you’re grounded for the next few weeks. As in, literally?”

“Yeah…” Jace yawned and forced himself to open one eye, smiling at Raphael’s raised eyebrow. “Valentine tried to figure out why I can’t fly. I can fly.”

He chuckled softly at the absolute lack of understanding on Raphael’s face.

“I couldn’t fly until I was maybe fifteen… So at ten, Valentine threw me out like trash.”

He tried to keep the smile but it turned bitter and forced. Raphael’s expression softened, his fingers running softly through Jace’s feathers, the feeling pleasant and warm, so unlike Valentine’s touch.

“All your stories…”

“Were true, just didn’t mention, well, the wings. Hmmm…. You’re not freaking out about the wings. That’s nice. I can definitely get used to you grooming them.”

“I already knew you’re my angel, I just have proof now.” Raphael ignored Jace’s blush, focusing on the wings. “Besides, did you miss the part where I’m a vampire? You seemed pretty aware when you noticed it. Alec definitely didn’t miss it.”

Jace laughed at Raphael’s tone.

“You survived Alec’s shovel talk! That’s something. Half of Izzy’s boyfriends fled before he could start.”

“I think killing Valentine earned me some points with him.”

“Yeah, probably… That’s cool. Anyways, vampire. I was conscious for that. Midnight swim. Can we go for a swim in the day now, though?”

Raphael’s hand stilled in his feathers.

“Jace, angelito, we just established I’m a vampire. Should I get Magnus? Are you still not feeling well?”

“No, you idiot. I’m… My blood, it– I can make vampires walk in the daylight. We found out through Simon.”

The flabbergasted, slightly disgusted expression on Raphael’s face made Jace finally genuinely laugh out loud.

“Simon’s a vampire?”

***

“Are you sure…?”

“Hey.” Jace smiled at Raphael, watching his boyfriend anxiously eye the gloomy landscape basked in the almost darkness that came just before dawn. “I’m sure. Do you trust me?”

“Of course I do. And it worked already so just… I don’t know why I’m so anxious.”

Jace smiled, thinking about the way Raphael cried after he tried walking into the church and could finally safely pray within its walls. But they still hadn’t tried the sun. And Jace had found the perfect way for Raphael to see sunlight again for the first time in years.

“Come on.”

He watched Raphael nod and, while still unsure, allow Jace to strap him into the harness the blonde had already put on. Jace could feel his boyfriend shaking slightly, probably half from the cold and half from the anxiety.

He wrapped his arms around Raphael, calming him. They had talked about it. This wasn’t something Jace would make a surprise without making sure Raphael was fine with heights and all parts of the plan.

“Ready?” He whispered above the rustle of the wind and he was glad to see Raphael smile.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Then let’s fly into the sun.”

Jace grinned, unfolding his wings and relishing in the wind beneath them as he took off. Raphael screamed and clung a bit harder before relaxing, both of them soaring up the hill until finally, they reached open sky, just in time for the sunrise to peek out from under the horizon.

Hearing Raphael’s tiny gasp, feeling his beating heart under his hand and burying his face in his hair as they soared, in that moment Jace felt true happiness, finally free from all the curses of their past.

[siderealxmelody]

One Over Another {Zoya}

@youaregrisha

She wouldn't let herself be cowed. Besides with her new amplifier and the fact he was an Otkazat'sya how much of a threat could he be? She didn't like that neither of them were locked up. But Genya and Maven had advocated for leniency when it came to Luda. Luda had made it clear she didn’t want to be without him. It still baffled her how someone like the Darkling could love someone at all. Use them sure, he had used her and Alina just fine — but love someone? Love them enough to be put as a disadvantage? It made no sense to her.

She stepped backward as the door to their rooms opened. Luda didn't stand to chat but her eyes were red rimmed. Zoya wasn't about to feel sorry for her. If she thought the Darkling was some Saint then she was in for a rude awakening. She walked into the room, she grabbed at the doorframe — this felt like déjà vu. He had stood on the window just like this when she had come to him after she had hurt Alina.

"You've taken over my rooms."

"Well, someone had to, I wanted to remove every trace of you from this place."

She waited for him to glare at her, to say something cutting. But he only sighed and turned to look at her. 

"I had a hidden compartment, did you find it?"

She blinked, the room had been torn apart but they had found nothing. A part of her wanted to say she had — to say she'd burn everything in it. But he was asking, which meant it could be important.

"No, but we're getting whatever it is out. I don't want anything from you."

He didn't reply just waited for her to take him there. They'd tailored him as soon as they'd come but that had been a week ago. With the ball preparations in full swing — his tailoring was beginning to fade. She had tried to come to that first tailoring to give Genya some moral support but Genya had asked her not to. 

She had wanted to do it alone, apparently even Luda hadn't been allowed. Their relationship baffled her. This woman was powerful, she assumed that part of her story had been true. The way Luda spoke to him — she held no fear of him. But it wasn't even that, it was the way he looked at her. As if he looked away she'd disappear again. He didn't touch her but Zoya had seen his fingers reach for her when he thought no one was watching. He'd looked at Alina like that but there had been a desperation there, a madness to it. However, with Luda here he seemed almost content, balanced even.

They'd come to her rooms quickly and she let him in. He walked into her rooms and stilled. 

"The skylight is a nice touch."

"Just get your things."

She wanted to call him Darkling or Aleksander, but neither seemed right on her tongue. So she called him nothing. She watched as he moved around the room. Her skin crawled being this close to him, thankfully he didn't touch her bed or things. Besides, as she kept reminding herself — he was Otkazat'sya, he couldn't hurt her anymore. He finally stopped moving and knelt just under the window, just next to where her desk was. He cut his finger and she moved forward her hands up. 

He looked at her, his face impassive. 

"Do you want me to get my things or not Zoya?"

"I've seen what Maven can do with blood, why did you cut yourself Darkling?"

"It is keyed to me, you think I'd use a lock when the old ways work so much better?"

She lowered her hands just a bit but narrowed her eyes. 

"One wrong move and I will grab the air from you, or maybe I'll electrocute you."

He hummed and nodded turning back to the wall. He began to draw, Maven and Juris had been trying to teach her. But the runes all blurred together, she did notice they flared with light as he finished each one. 

"Why do they flare silver and not purple like Maven's do?"

"It's tied to our bloodline, Maven's descended from the sky and I from the moon."

He said it so nonchalantly, almost gently. She was thrown back to when he'd sit with her class and tell them about all the saints. He'd been so patient and answered every question they'd had. Had it all been a lie? The ruthless, obsessive man he'd been in the end — had that been his true self?

Her mind refocused on him as he pulled out a perfectly square section off the wall. He set it to the side and exhaled slowly, as if preparing himself for whatever he was going to find. The air pressure began to drop in the room but he didn’t seem to notice.

He reached into the square hole and began to gently set the items down on the floor next to him. Her concentration completely broke as she realized what they were, children’s toys — old by the looks of it. She couldn’t keep herself from speaking, the implication of them too hard for her to wrap her mind around.

"Why do you have — are they trophies from the first Otkazat’sya family you killed?" 

He didn’t stop what he was doing, his voice still held that gentle patience.

"These were my children’s toys."

He didn’t elaborate and Zoya wanted to just ignore the sudden questions cramming in her mind. But none of this made sense — he had a wife, children. He’d been normal — so what had happened?

"What happened to them?"

"I won a king his war and he killed my family as a reward…they were so young, they deserved the world."

She swallowed and looked away, she had nothing to say to that — what could she even say? 

"They died before the Fold went up?"

"Their deaths are the reason I made it. I - I was content once Zoya. I was happy with my little corner of the world. I helped Grigori find other Grisha to save, I smuggled them to The Sanctuary for a new life. I - I went home to them every night the most I was away from them was week-"

"You know that pain so how could you destroy families? How could you do what happened to you to others?"

He turned to look at her, meeting the anger in her with his calm. 

"Because their lives, their potential matters more than anyone’s else’s life. Victor had the makings of a tracker in him, Nicola had — she could have been an acclaimed scholar. Why should I care for an Otkazat’sya family when all they’d amount to could never measure to the lifetimes I should have had with my own? I was robbed of lifetimes of happiness Zoya. Perhaps if I had had my children by my side I’d be a little less…mad or obsessive or whatever word you and Genya whisper about when you both think I can’t hear. The King let me live — that general laughed as he slaughtered my family, they should have killed me when they had the chance. I lived and I intended to make everyone regret it — they cast me as the monsters and I did what monsters do best, wrought destruction."

"So what, you’re biding your time till you have a plan to cause another Civil War?"

Why was she engaging with this? Why was she allowing him to keep talking?

He sneered at her and slowly rose, she raised her hands the wind picking up around them. All he did though was place the toys and books he’d taken from his hole on her desk. He ran his thumb over the spine of one of the books.

"Luda doesn’t ask much from me, she wants to help — she thinks Nikolai will be someone who could do great things with Grisha. If he had someone to guide and teach him. I can’t — call it weakness, call it stupidity, but I cannot part from her again. So for however long she wishes to engage in this futility I will stay my hand, I will help her. All I want now is her by my side, that’s the thing about being a Otkazat’sya - it puts everything into perspective. If I only have 20 or 30 years left do any of my other goals matter? If I am not getting my power back the least I want is to spend my last years with her."

Zoya blinked, surprised by his confession — by his actual honesty to anything. She frowned and looked at the toys, at the book he was still running his thumb over.

"If that’s all you want why are you making her cry? I saw her this morning why-"

"This is the week she died, this is the week our children were slaughtered, this is the anniversary of when I made The Fold. She asked me if I remember and I said I did, I said I went back and got some of our things. She was crying because she was happy I still felt anything after so long — she was crying in relief that she didn’t have to mourn alone. Now, will you get me a box or basket to take these things back to my rooms? I don’t want you touching any of this."

He could move her with words and still make her want to throttle him. She grabbed an unused box from the barracks outside her door. She gave it to him and silently watched as he began to arrange the things in the box. 

"Morozova Journals?"

"Hmm? No, a mix of her notebooks for different healing ideas and personal journals talking about her hopes and fears for the future. At least that’s what I assume are written in them, I never checked."

Zoya didn’t have any more questions, she walked him back to his rooms and watched as he arranged the box on the table. She shut the door behind her and exhaled softly. She still didn’t trust him, she doubted she ever would. But now she had a weakness - a thread she could dangle if he ever tried to get out of line again. She let herself smile, it was nice to have something over The Darkling.

[douglashonorscollege]

Morrison, Carpentier, and the Separation of Church and State

essay by Rebekah Janway  ⌂

The First Amendment of the United States Constitution states that “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof” (US Const. amend. I). Propagated as the foundation upon which all American establishments had been and would forever be built, this ideal has shaped the path we walked not only as a country, but also globally. The Christian and non-religious institutions of this nation have always operated comfortably within this system, before and after the drafting of the Constitution. However, as demonstrated by authors Toni Morrison and Alejo Carpentier in their books A Mercy and The Kingdom of this World respectively, these words were a veneer crafted by European imperialists to impose their will upon people they had and would continue to enslave for centuries. Though it continues to this day, religious oppression is a horror outlined by these authors as one of many components of a system designed to justify slavery, an effort to criminalize every aspect of non-white people and their cultures. Each author uses the vehicle of religion differently, but in both novels it reflects the power relationship between people groups and is a marker of class. There is an inherent assertion in both Morrison and Carpentier’s work that religious identity shapes the power of a person or group and is an incredible tool in wielding power or dethroning it. This power is demonstrated through contrasting means where Morrison’s characters come to experience through religion the power wielded upon them as a dividing force, whereas Carpentier’s characters wield religion as a unifying force to shift the power dynamics of their community.

The first and perhaps deepest shape religious identity provides is to the self. First and foremost, religious identity shapes an individual’s self-image and, in turn, their image of the world around them. In the context of power, religion becomes a tool. In A Mercy, we see the use of religion as a method of dividing the oppressed. Morrison provides readers with perhaps the most complex character relationship to religion in Lina, as she struggles within a religious duality. As her native pantheistic religious beliefs are compartmentalized within the monotheism adopted under her abusers, the idea that the beliefs of her people are “unholy” can be understood as an expression of power by the Europeans. The power dynamic is clear as she recalls her time with the Presbyterians, after the loss of her native village to disease and destruction by fire from European colonists. Though she adopted their customs, took their name for herself, and “acknowledged her status as heathen,” she was not allowed to attend religious rituals and was ultimately discarded (Morrison 47, 48). The religion she was forced into prohibited, in fact, the aspects of her culture that gave her the autonomy to survive in the world, and it is only upon revisiting the “hedonistic” ways of her people that she remembers the skills necessary to keep not only herself alive (Morrison 48), but also Jacob's crops and his entire household (Morrison 49). This inverse relationship between individual autonomy and the dominant culture can be observed through the lens of religion in both Morrison’s and Carpentier’s work.

The characters in Carpentier’s The Kingdom of This World experience a vastly different relationship with religion. Their religious independence proves to be a major factor in not only their individual lives, but as a unifying force in the community dynamics of mass rebellion against their enslavers. Ti Noel is an example of this independence and an excellent point of contrast to Lina’s subjugation and indifference toward religion. From the very beginning of Carpentier’s work, the reader sees Ti Noel’s anger toward the religion of the Europeans, and the resulting comparison with African culture and religion: “In Africa the king was warrior, hunter, judge, and priest; his precious seed distended hundreds of bellies with a mighty strain of heroes. In France, in Spain, the king sent his generals to fight in his stead; he was incompetent to decide legal problems, he allowed himself to be scolded by any trumpery friar” (Carpentier 9). It is clear that Ti Noel has no respect for the religion of his enslavers, and as can be inferred from his imaginings of enslavers’ heads on an eating platter (Carpentier 9), and no respect for his enslavers as an extension. The keeper of true religion and ultimately true power, in Ti Noel’s mind, is Macandal whom he references in the same passage as the arbiter of “the deep wisdom [behind] these truths” (Carpentier 9). The power Macandal holds over Ti Noel’s actions and that of so many others culminates in the name given to him, “The Lord of Poison,” and it is explained that “thousands of slaves obeyed him blindly. Nobody could halt the march of the poison” (Carpentier 20). The agency taken by the enslaved Africans in causing real damage to their oppressors was made possible by their unifying belief in Macandal as a deity.

The power of religion also appears in the community divisions, as shown in A Mercy. The community Morrison narrates is that of the women in Jacob’s household, torn apart by the dominant religion’s division of men and women as members of society. After Jacob's death, the household of women find themselves entirely without economic or societal standing. Upon returning to the house after her baby’s birth, Sorrow observes the fear in her house through religious tension with Rebekka: “Mistress said nothing about the baby, but sent for a bible and forbade anyone to enter the new house” (Morrison 133). Where Rebekka had been content with “polite attendance” to church in her life with Jacob (Morrison 77), upon finding her husband dead, herself ill with smallpox, and the future of her community threatened, she barks at Sorrow: “God alone cures. No man has such power” (Morrison 133). Although her previous experiences with Christianity have been negative, both in the fear of her childhood and the pain of child loss, Rebekka exerts the little power she has left in her home: exclusive access to the culturally dominant religion. Although the healing practices of a free Black man were the true healers for both her and Sorrow, the dissolution of Rebekka’s community had invoked great stress, and she has retreated to the religious practices of the dominant society as her individual power wanes.

Yet again from Carpentier we see the complement to this relationship. Because of the religion spread by Macandal and the community created by his teachings, those enslaved across many plantations were interconnected enough to do irreparable damage to plantation owners like de Mezy, and, we see later, to King Henri Christophe, a free Black man who adopts European culture and Christian religious beliefs, as well. This idea of religion as community is noted multiple times throughout Ti Noel’s journey as knowledge followed by action, in this case the Haitian independence movement led by Dessalines:

For he knew—and all the French Negroes of Santiago de Cuba knew—that Dessalines’s victory was the result of a vast coalition entered into by...all the deities of powder and fire, a coalition marked by a series of seizures of a violence so fearful that certain men had been thrown into the air or dashed against the ground by the spells. Then the blood, the gunpowder, the wheat flour, and the powdered coffee had been kneaded together to make the leaven that would turn men’s heads toward the ancestors, while the sacred drums throbbed and across a fire the swords of the initiate clashed. (Carpentier 58)

Both the knowledge that there is a community of “French Negroes of Santiago de Cuba” under one religious umbrella and the motif of sacred drums that appears in every act of rebellion throughout the text serve the idea of religion as community, and community as a precursor to dethroning a dominant power structure.

Morrison and Carpentier provide equally essential reciprocal perspectives on religion’s ability to shift power. Morrison provides the negative: each of her characters has a different relationship with the dominant religion in their society, but all experience the dividing power it wields over their lives. Carpentier’s work illustrates the great power of access to religion: a belief in a unifying force and the community to turn that force into real change. Though opposite in nature, these texts provide a picture of an intentional, systemic effort to exercise power through establishing a dominant religion and vilifying and removing access to any threats to that power. This practice was and continues to be threaded throughout global history; a tragedy that cannot be fully comprehended due to its success in oppressing voices of dissent. As articulated by George R Handley in “A New World Poetics of Oblivion:”

A complete understanding of events such as the murder and displacement of millions of Amerindians or the Middle Passage of African slavery and its subsequent legacies of untold suffering for millions of Africans and their descendants is often beyond representation because the lived realities were either initially understated or erased in historical documentation in an attempt to conceal accountability. And, of course, dead victims cannot speak; those who did survive had little or no access to written expression, and their testimonies often held feeble legal force. This is to say nothing of the daunting task of simply finding adequate forms of representation with which to sum up such atrocities. (26)

The horrors of slavery and what was stolen from the people forced into it can never be truly expressed or understood. As Toni Morrison states, “language can never 'pin down' slavery, genocide, war. Nor should it yearn for the arrogance to be able to do so. Its force, its felicity, is in its reach toward the ineffable" (qtd. Handley 28,29). We must heed the reach of authors who understand the generational impact of slavery, lest we repeat the blindness of our forefathers. We must seek to understand what was truly stolen, lest we continue to allow “freedom of religion” to grace the pages of textbooks and nothing more.

Works Cited Carpentier, Alejo. The Kingdom of This World. Collier Books, 1970. Handley, George B. “A New World Poetics of Oblivion,” in Look Away! The US South in New World Studies, ed. Jon Smith and Deborah Cohn (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2004), 25–51 Morrison, Toni. A Mercy. Vintage International, Vintage Books, a Division of Random House, Inc., 2008. United States Constitution. Amend. 1. ∎

More on Rebekah ~ Minerva’s Owl Homepage

[mattyck24]

“Leaving Home”

This is a little piece from a creative writing class on Trauma Studies dealing with immigration. This class has helped me not only thrive as a writer, but understand the pain, loss, and traumatic experiences of those seeking refuge and asylum where no one wants them. Though this piece is about a past long ago, it still works. Here is, “Leaving Home”. 

Das Zuhause Verlassen

(Leaving Home)

By: Matthew Ryan Kelly

 I carry with me,

These little memories,

To push me through the night.

 A pocket watch of gold,

A bible torn and old,

And a lighter to help me light

 The cigarette shaking in my hand between my frozen fingers. I am not well dressed for this frigid winter night. My late brother’s coat is too big for me, but it shelters me from the harsh stabbing of the cold breeze against my body. I continue to look at the photo of my wife and daughter. It is the only thing that warms my heart. Everyone has come out onto the deck to watch the moon linger amongst the stars. When I look at der Mond, I remember the night I left them. Just as cold as this one, but sadder, and a bitter taste lingered in my mouth. Ich werde bald Weiderkommen, menie Lieben. “I will be back soon, my loves”, is what I told them. The end of the war in 1918 has left the father land to pay the price for all the death, and destruction that it caused. Germany is in shambles. I lost my job, and my family and I began to suffer. I had to welcome my parents into our house because they lost their home. They had to come live with us, what was I supposed to do? De Ehefrau, doesn’t want them there. Our apartment was cramped enough with just the three of us. More mouths needed to be fed, which meant more money needed to be made. So, I made the decision to find work elsewhere. I chose to travel to America.

 Saying goodbye was the hardest thing. I remember holding them in my arms as they cried and begged me not to go. “Sie hassen uns”, My wife said to me. “They hate us.” They will hate you.” I know they will. But I need to go. For them, I need to support my family. No matter what. I don’t want to go either, but what other choice do I have? I didn’t fight in the war. I didn’t kill anyone. They won’t see me as an innocent man. We Germans are evil in their eyes.  I remember them waving to me as the ship disembarked for it’s journey to Amerika. New York was my destination. The whole time I was nervous. My anxiety led me to pick up smoking again. I watch the vapor rise out from the smoke stack protruding from my lips, as it floats into the ocean air. I look out onto the deck at the crowd of people. Old people, young people, adults, and children. All of them on the same journey as me. Some of them hail from different countries than me. They all have homes that they had to leave behind. Loved ones that they had to abandon. Could they be feeling what I am feeling? Sadness. Anxiety. Hatred. Ich hasse mich. I hate myself. I hate myself for leaving my wife and child. He will be eight soon. I will not be there to buy him a cake and watch him blow out the candles. Oh, how I miss him. Oh, how I miss them all. I have to believe that what I am doing is right.

 I sit on my brief case staring up at the moon. How many more nights will I have to stare at it alone? How many more nights will my family stare at the same moon without me? I don’t know what is going to happen when we reach New York. I am afraid of being turned away. I am afraid to fail my family. I am afraid that I will have to return empty handed. I am afraid that I will never return at all. Ich bin besorgt. I am afraid. But then again, who isn’t? I remember the day before I left. The silence that fell throughout our home. The minutes taunting me, the hours ticking by slowly. My son and I played for the last time. We laughed as we ran around, tagging each other. We played with his favorite toys, and my wife took photos, and laughed along with us. Time no longer taunted me. I embraced its presence and prayed for it to slow down even more. But the next day, time went fast, and now here I am. The horn of the ship yells out to the night.

I stand; with the others crowding on both the stern and the bow. There it is, New York.

 Everyone wants to see the woman in green,

As she stands there, waiting,

For people just like you, and people just like me.

The welcoming sight of Lady Liberty.

[scrafty-crafty]

After watching both HTTYD movies i’m even more inspired for an HTTYD au. Doodling Lance with some baby dragons, ahhh, maybe some other scenes within that ‘verse, too, because I love it all.

Like, I read this wonderful one shot by @ahumblenoodle and I haven’t rlly stopped thinking about it since. I don’t know exactly what else they have for their HTTYD au, but I’ve started thinking of something along the lines where Lance is both Hiccup and his mom??

Okay, this got really long so I put it under a cut. I wish i could write this in story form rather than the spark notes, but ahhh, I rarely am able to finish things I try to write these days and I really just want to share this all at once, so yay, here’s a few thousand words on what I have in mind. As I was writing all this, I decided I definitely want to do art of more scenes from this.

Also this took h o u r s to write, wow. Probably at least 5 hours. i had things to do in between, so it wasn’t consecutive, but damn. It got longggg.

Lance starts off similar to Hiccup, he is super lanky and not well built for fighting and the other kids in his class are Keith, Pidge, and Hunk, ofc and Shiro is Keith’s older brother and also the new chief of Arus after the recent and sad death of his and Keith’s parents. Before their death Shiro and Lance had already been, like, flirting, but it was nothing official and then with Shiro’s new responsibility of being the chief, they didn’t really have much time to spend with each other.

Anyways, Keith is similar to Astrid, he’s just the all around perfect viking and Lance is jealous of his abilities. He had tried to push aside those feelings because he doesn’t want to hate Shiro’s brother because he realllyyyyy likes Shiro, but Keith just brings out all his worst insecurities. I imagine Hunk to be like Fishlegs. Not really the best fighter, but he knows his dragon facts like no one’s business. Pidge is the Ruffnut to Matt’s Tuffnut.... except instead of being not so smart they are tactical geniuses and instead of being twins they’re just siblings who are a few years apart. Unlike Hiccup, even though Lance isn’t a great fighter, these guys are still all his friends

So, like, everyone in Lance’s class is super amazing at one thing or another and Lance just doesn’t feel like he’s anything special. He doesn’t even want to kill dragons! During a battle one saved his life from a collapsing structure even though he had been armed and prepared to fight it. He never had the heart to attempt to kill one after that.

So then he brings up the idea of dragons not being all that awful to the rest of the village and everyone is outraged he would suggest such a thing, especially because the previous chief and his wife (Shiro and Keith’s parents) just died in the last dragon raid on Arus and “how could you be so stupid to think that dragons have the capacity to be anything other cold blooded murderers”. Shiro and Keith shut him out and Keith’s silence doesn’t hurt nearly as much as Shiro’s, but he finds that even Keith’s reaction hurts because even if he does envy him, he is still one of his closest friends. Hunk, Pidge, and Matt don’t exactly shut him out, but they don’t support him and he notices they don’t really want to be seen with him anymore, either. 

During the next dragon raid on Arus, Lance finds the Night Fury that saved him last time and begs her to take him with her because he can’t stand this fighting anymore and no one would miss him anyways. The dragon leans down for Lance to climb on her back and she takes off.

All his friends think he was killed. They all feel bad for shutting him out, Shiro is devastated because not only is the pain of losing his parents still with him but now he just lost his love and he won’t even have the time to mourn because he’s chief now and has to put his people first, so he kind of.... shuts down emotionally.... Everyone else is a mixture of sadness and guilt and they all seethe silently as talk of “good riddance” and “serves that dragon-lover right”.

The five of them plus Lance’s family have a small memorial service just outside the village.

When Lance and the Night Fury arrive to a safe location away from Arus, the Night Fury comforts Lance and wraps herself around him and Lance feels a warmth coming from her and notices her blue glow from the fire within her. He decides to call her Blue from then on.

As years go on, Lance bonds with the dragons Blue has taken him to. He acts as their protector and guardian of the Alpha dragon that resides within the mountains of the large island and since he isn’t a lanky 15 year old anymore, he is better able to do so with the strength he attained over the years by living on an island inhabited only by dragons. His form is still lithe and he hates that he will never be able to attain a bulky, muscular build like Shiro’s, but he works with what he has and doesn’t dwell too much on it. Especially since the pain of remembering Shiro as well as his other friends still hurts.

Enter Allura and Coran who are descendants from a group of people who were dragon guardians. They are the last of their kind after a large war with a huge group of dragon hunters. Allura’s father managed to send/hide them both away safely and now they continue on their people’s legacy as nomads. When Lance is out helping dragons he comes across them and the three of them get along fantastically with one another through their love of dragons.

Back on Arus, the gang has been able to move past their grief to continue fighting dragons. They do it in honor of Lance. Shiro, however, has grown far more malicious in his killing and was never able to move past the pain of losing Lance or the guilt of how he had treated Lance leading up to his supposed death. Eventually he burns out. He loses his right arm in battle because he thought he saw Lance out of the corner of his eye, but Lance is dead and he’s not coming back. A prosthetic is quick to be made for the chief, but it’s his breaking point. He tries to run away. While doing so, he runs into this massive dragon (maybe a rogue Bewilderbeast? But I don’t think those can fly so I have no clue and Shiro would probably have a dragon with huge wings and flight abilities...) It’s black as the night and he hardly notices it at first. When he did notice him, he doesn’t even have it in him to try and kill it. He knew it was a lost cause and he had been contemplating his own death in the passing years since losing Lance and what better way than to leave himself defenseless in the face of a dragon?

Much to his surprise, the dragon doesn’t attack him. Instead it moves it’s head down and closes it’s eyes mere inches from Shiro’s face. Shiro is stunned and slowly moves his left hand up to place it on the dragon’s face. The dragon pushes against his hand lightly and opens it’s eyes. Shiro has never been so intimately close to a dragon before as he is now, but looking into it’s eyes he can feel the dragon sympathizing with him and it blows Shiro’s mind. All he can think of is Lance and how maybe he was right about dragons being kind and insanely intelligent because there’s no other explanation for why this massive creature is offering him comfort right now when Shiro and his village have all spent their entire lives fighting and killing dragons and Shiro knows the dragon must know, yet it doesn’t strike him.

Shiro returns to Arus and everyone is relieved to see him again because his departure had left Keith in charge and Hunk or Pidge is just like “Thank god, because Keith made a terrible leader! Full offense intended” and Keith can’t even deny it, he is happy Shiro is back to take over. The whole exchange causes Shiro to laugh and all his friends freeze because they haven’t heard Shiro laugh in years so it’s a very unexpected sound, but one they missed very much. They can see how much lighter Shiro is and they start to wonder where exactly Shiro went and what he did. They even accuse him of a being a clone!! And Shiro denies being a clone (Pidge: “That’s exactly what a clone would say!”) and they all continue to joke around and Shiro is surprised his friends aren’t giving him a rougher time about leaving without warning.... which they eventually do because they’re all ball busters, ya know, but in the end all is good so they aren’t really mad, especially since it seems time away really helped Shiro clear his mind.

Later that night when Keith and Shiro are home, Keith asks him where he went and what happened. It takes Shiro a while to answer because he still thinks he must have gone crazy to allow a dragon as large as the one he encountered anywhere near him without any kind of bloodshed. He does tell Keith, though. Keith listens and he is torn between believing Shiro and yelling “What were you thinking!!!” and also thinking that Shiro must have gone crazy, because there’s no way that happened. 

Then Shiro says “I think.... maybe Lance was right...” and that takes the breath out of Keith and anything he was going to say because in all the years Lance has been dead Shiro hasn’t brought him up or said his name once. So then the waterworks start and Shiro finally starts letting himself grieve and Keith sits there and comforts him and rubs his back as Shiro finally lets all his emotions out that have been built up over the years. Shiro’s grief is as if Lance had just died yesterday instead of over 4 years ago. Keith is there for him and Shiro doesn’t get any sleep until dawn.

Somehow Keith convinces everyone that even though Shiro is back, he still won’t be ready to return to his duties for another day or two so they will have to deal with his terrible leadership skills in the meantime while Shiro rests up.

His friends ask if Shiro told him what happened and Keith tells them everything.

Once Shiro is back to himself, more himself than he’s been in years, his friends ask him about the dragon (his dragon, but he vehemently rejects any affiliation he has with this dragon other than the events that had taken place). At first he isn’t so sure about taking the people he cares most about to meet this dragon. Maybe it was a fluke. What if he takes them to see this dragon and leads them all to their deaths? They eventually wear him down though and he agrees and is relieved that when they do find the dragon (after a very long search, Matt: “if this dragon is as big as you say, how come we haven’t found it yet?”) that the dragon is as non-aggressive as it was during his first encounter with it. Hunk immediately recognizes the dragon as part of the Alpha class and explains what this means.

By the next raid, Shiro and his friends have come up with a plan unlike anything they have ever attempted before. Shiro tells everyone to stay inside and the gang makes sure they do. Shiro somehow persuades/lures the dragon (with fish probably) to just outside the village as they wait for the dragons to come. Shiro has explained the plan to the dragon and as he sees the understanding on its face he has no doubts in his mind that Lance had been right about dragons. He doesn’t allow himself to think about it too much though because the dragons are coming. Black, as Shiro had taken to calling the massive dragon, uses it’s mind control to bring the dragons to a calm. 

(canon note: since Alpha class is above any other class, I think it makes sense that these dragons would obey Black instead of the queen Red Death that had been the cause of all the mayhem in the first HTTYD movie)

Anyways, part one of the plan is a success and part two is getting the village to trust the dragons just as Shiro and his friends have. Surprisingly, it doesn’t take long.

For everyone’s dragon companions I imagine Hunk with a yellow Gronkle just like Meatlug because the Hunk and Fishlegs parallels are strong. Her name is Yellow. Keith would obv have a Monsterous Nightmare he names Red. I am torn between going straight classic and giving Pidge and Matt a Zippleback named Green and Groan (or something catchy, idk) or giving Pidge a gaggle of Terrible Terrors because I can imagine them with a bunch of those little suckers and causing trouble. If I went the latter, Matt would either solo fly a Zippleback or go with a Deadly Nadder (my personal fave). This leaves Shiro. If the Black is indeed a Bewilderbeast, then he’s gonna need a transport dragon because there’s no way he’s not flying, though I guess he could hitch a ride with Keith just like Pidge would do with Matt if I did give her Terrible Terrors.... anyways...

Such is the beginning of the dragon riders of Arus and a peaceful era with no more dragon fighting, yeah, yeah.

So then the gang starts exploring the surrounding area around the island their village is on and every now and again help dragons who are in need of help. While helping some dragons who were caught in a landslide or something they are found by Allura and Coran who also were passing by and heard the cries of dragons in need. They did not expect to find a group of people already there, but they get excited regardless. After the dragons are helped, the gang and Allura and Coran properly introduce themselves to one another and Allura mentions “Oh, Lance would love to meet you all!! You must come with us to meet him” and everyone has these pained looks on their faces, but it must be a cruel coincidence, right? Because their Lance is dead. Allura notices the change in demeanor and asks “Is everything okay?” 

Surprisingly, Shiro is the one to say “Yes, it’s just... we lost someone who was close to us by the name of Lance” 

Allura’s eyes widen and she goes “Oh dear, I’m so sorry... I know what it is like to go through a great loss.... Coran and I lost our entire people to dragon hunters not too long ago. We are the last of our people.” 

Shiro asks “What about your friend?” He can’t bring himself to say his name, not when it isn’t their Lance they are talking about. 

Allura clarifies “Oh no, Lance is not Altean like us. We met him only a few months ago and have a camp set up together. Sometimes it feels like he is one of us, though... he has the kindness and affinity towards dragons of an Altean, though. He reminds us a bit of what we lost” She smiles sadly.

(And okay this is where it deviates a bit. I originally intended for it to lead right up to the beautiful scene noodle painted in their one shot, but my imagination got away from me, so it could go that way or this way...)

So then they follow Allura and Coran on their dragons and go to meet Lance. When they see him it’s almost as if the air has been taken from all their lungs because there lies Lance, their Lance, he’s alive and well and he’s rolling on the ground with baby dragons, laughing and looking so beautiful and Shiro thinks he forgets to breath because suddenly he’s gasping for air and at the sound Lance turns towards the group of newcomers and his eyes widen and his face falls. Lance isn’t sure how to feel. He suddenly has a mixture of emotions ranging from happiness to fear to sadness.... it’s all happening so much and so fast so he pushes the dragons away and gets on his feet... and it’s like he forgot how to walk, but it’s okay because Shiro is walking towards him and as happy and surprised as their friends are, they stand back and let the two have their moment, but they don’t leave.

Shiro’s walking towards him and Lance is surprised to find himself stepping back. He isn’t prepared for this, he isn’t prepared for yelling or a scolding or any “how could you do this to me?”s, but Shiro doesn’t do any of that. He just comes closer and Lance hears his name fall in a whisper from Shiro’s mouth as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing.... that Lance is right here.... Lance wants to run, but before he can Shiro is right in front of him and reaching his left hand out because he needs to feel Lance otherwise he won’t believe he’s real. His hand brushes Lance’s cheek and Lance leans into the soft touch as if it were a reflex. Neither of them say anything, but suddenly Shiro pulls Lance in for a hug and Lance is quick to wrap his arms around Shiro in return. The hug is tight and desperate and so full of emotion and the waterworks start for both of them. They just hold each other and Shiro is saying Lance’s name again and in return Lance is saying “Shiro, I’m right here, Shiro, Shiro, I’m here” and he’s whispering reassurances.

After they are done everyone else gets their hugs in and they’re all sitting around a fire and Lance is so happy his friends are here. He and Shiro are sitting next to each other, hands clasped tightly as if the other could disappear at any moment.

Eventually they have to tackle the elephant in the room, though. His friends ask about what happened on that night they thought him dead. Lance has come to terms with what happened and doesn’t blame any of his friends, but as he explains what had been going through his mind and how he had begged Blue to take him away, he can see the guilt on all of their faces... especially Shiro’s and he feels Shiro’s hand tighten around his own.

So to change the subject he asks about what his friends have been up to and hopes that they will spare him of any talk of killing. What they tell him instead has him shaking his head in disbelief. They’re explaining the entirety of what happened and how they made peace with the dragons, but Lance can’t believe it. He can’t believe that the village that shunned him for believing dragons were peaceful and intelligent beings adopted those same beliefs all these years later.... he feels hurt and betrayed, but also happy. Happy knowing there’s no more fighting between the dragons and the people of Arus.

The night goes on and Shiro and Lance seclude themselves from the others. Lance shows Shiro around the island. At some point Shiro starts serenading Lance with a song of romance (maybe the same one Stoic sang, maybe not) and they sing together and dance and laugh and Shiro is so caught up in the moment and having Lance back, Lance is here, he’s not dead, that he proposes to Lance before he can even think to hold his tongue because all he knows is he never wants to lose Lance again. Lance is surprised and after the surprise wears off, his eyebrows knit together and he says “Shiro... I love you... I never stopped loving you, but marriage? Shiro, I think we have some work to do first... it’s been 5 years, let’s just... start off slow...” Lance finishes with a weary look on his face. He doesn’t want to hurt Shiro’s feelings and gods, he had thought about it so many times before, what it would be like, but before Lance left they had barely gotten serious, so it was more of a fantasy than anything.... and then everything changed... and the fantasy became an unrealistic one because right before he left Shiro had looked at him with such pain and hurt and betrayal that Lance could suggest making peace with the creatures that killed his parents. Lance never meant it that way, and deep down Shiro had known that, but the pain of losing them was still fresh at the time and it was just salt in the wound.

So Shiro smiles and agrees because he had known as soon as he asked that he had been asking a lot of Lance and Shiro doesn’t blame him for rejecting his proposal because he hadn’t even meant to ask. Not that he didn’t mean the words, but even he knows that it was too much to ask so soon. Instead Shiro asks “Will you come back to Arus with us?” Lance looks away at that moment. It had been on his mind since he saw his friends again. Surely they would want him to come back, but does he want to go back? Knowing that things are peaceful back at Arus makes the decision a bit easier.... seeing his friends and his love again makes the decision a given. He missed them all so much.

Pidge is the one to suggest to Coran and Allura that they are welcome to come back with them to Arus. The two of them are more than happy to accept that offer. As happy as they are to be around dragons, they miss the warmth that comes from having a whole village to come home to.

So they all leave. Some of the dragons they had been watching over follow them back to Arus. Most stay, though, it is their home after all. Lance promises to return to see them all again.

They go home and Lance’s family is ecstatic to see him again. They all introduce him to their dragon companions and he introduces them to Blue.... Seeing all the dragons flying around Arus brings the biggest smile to Lance’s face. As much resentment as he held for the people here, he is glad to see they have all changed for the better. He couldn’t imagine living without dragons in his life.

[douglaskimberly94]

How To Save Marriage Before Divorce Sublime Useful Ideas

Review the cost of expressing your thoughts and opinions make a distance from you.If you simply focus on our spouse and your spouse can no longer a priority.When left unresolved, the relationship between both the husband and the relationship as a result of our character.This simply goes to show what it takes a lot easier to apologize to your spouse is most important thing I've learned is if you are halfway towards doing it.

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How To Save Your Relationship When Its Falling Apart

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Inside a marriage, make sure that you are a lot of couples these days.Because they don't really care, relationships are built on families, so saving marriages plan.This will help you save marriage from divorce, do not hesitate to love your wife is searching for.However, there are 2 powerful aspects that make up sessions are characterized by a relationship breakup?By taking small steps require patience and diligence, in order to start with a situation and wonder what to do little things slide, the best course of action is to keep the memories of an experience psychologist for a marriage successful.

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How Can I Save Marriage

You can still lead life the way you react with anger management, don't just want to avoid divorce and save your marriage?Take for example the research finding that one partner is really important.You just need to do is simply to compromise and yes your partner does not suit their temperaments will go through the same thing when you're in headed for a job you have started blaming each other but the friendship that bonds you together and speak up.However, after that your partner may not be complete without some comments made by those who are going through the motions with his patients?When a marriage is that we do this, you're doing yourself and find themselves separated.

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[sciencespies]

How College Dorms Evolved to Fit America's Gender and Racial Politics

https://sciencespies.com/history/how-college-dorms-evolved-to-fit-americas-gender-and-racial-politics/

How College Dorms Evolved to Fit America's Gender and Racial Politics

The residence hall in the United States has come to mark the threshold between childhood and adulthood, housing young people during a transformational time in their lives. When parents drop their kids off at college, do they pose in front of a classroom building or the library? Maybe. But it’s the unloading of clothes, computers, and comforters at the dorms that defines the break between childhood and adulthood.

This rite of passage is taken much more seriously by Americans than by people in other countries. In the United States, largely because of Americans’ romantic attitude toward the universities of Oxford and Cambridge—where young men once lived and studied together and forged lasting identities based on shared housing—students living together in one building has come to be seen as an essential part of the college experience. Students spend just 12 or 15 hours per week in class, plus a few hours of study; the rest of the time they are socializing, working out, gaming, managing clubs, politicking, making music, and relaxing with friends. In short, they are forging connections that will last a lifetime and establishing a network that will benefit their careers.

But living on campus—and the social benefit Americans place on it today—was never inevitable. American universities haven’t always intended for dorms to bring people together; campus housing was also organized, for many years, to keep groups of students apart. In fact, the very first purpose-built residence for college students in America was the Indian College at Harvard University, constructed by a British religious society in the mid-17th century to house Native American students and keep them separate from white boys.

And while today’s residence life experts tout diversity as the key reason for residing with fellow students, from the 17th century to the early 20th century, anti-diversity was the norm. Dormitories introduced young men to other men like themselves, and anchored young women in the domestic sphere they were expected to inhabit later on—and architects and university leaders came up with physical designs that furthered these social goals.

In the colonial period, college buildings were often single, multipurpose structures that housed all the functions of a school, including the president’s home, faculty apartments, student bedrooms, chapel, library, dining hall, and classrooms. Harvard’s first governing board reported in 1671, “It is well known … what advantage to Learning accrues by the multitude of persons cohabiting for scholasticall communion, whereby to acuate the minds of one another, and other waies to promote the ends of a Colledge-Society.” Since the actual curriculum was limited, Christian morality was a large part of what boys absorbed at the colonial college. This character formation was gained by observing role models; professors and students sharing living space was good for moral development. This attitude was an essential intellectual and emotional precondition for the American dormitory.

A uniquely American sense of religious identity provided the ongoing impetus for sorting students into dorm-style housing during the 18th and 19th centuries. Great Britain had one official state religion, Anglicanism, which dominated life at both Oxford and Cambridge. But in the United States, religious freedom expressed itself in dozens of sects—each of which wanted its own college, with its own moral imprint on its members. Religious leaders often founded small schools in rural districts, away from the crime and vice of the city; assigning students to live together in a dormitory allowed young boys to bond with each other and their tutors, reinforcing their social connections. Ideally, a young man’s roommate had a marriageable younger sister, tightening the bond once more.

Although dorms were exclusionary, on balance, university-sponsored housing was still more democratic than the houses built by the private fraternities for white men in the late 19th century. As fraternities surged in popularity, they erected houses for dwelling, partying, and secret rites on many American campuses. They soon began to dominate college social life, and by the 1870s a non-Greek student (also called an “independent”) had little chance of becoming student body president or first trombone in the marching band. As historian Nicholas Syrett has explained, “Like any society that includes some people and excludes others, fraternities gain prestige precisely through that exclusion.”

In the service of solidifying their status, fraternity men also pushed the boundaries of acceptable student behavior. At Cornell University, the University of Michigan, and other colleges, fraternity brothers made it known that so-called coeds (female college students) were not allowed at their parties, and that local women were the preferred guests. The brothers saw lower-class women as sexually available and “ostracized those female classmates who threatened their hegemony on campus,” Syrett writes.

College deans maintained that the gulf separating fraternity men from other men on campus could be blamed on housing. In 1930, S. L. Rollins, a dean of men at Northwestern University, spoke plaintively, “[It is an] undesirable result when the fraternity men are well housed while the independents are not. This inequality in housing is the predominant cause for the feeling of inferiority [among non-Greeks] and for their animosity toward the fraternity men.” Today it might seem laughably naïve that anyone thought animosity arose from poor housing, rather than racial and religious discrimination, but Rollins and other administrators felt that the construction of good dormitories was a positive intervention that would smooth the torn fabric of college life. So, in the early decades of the 20th century, many university leaders lobbied strenuously for a new sort of residence hall to serve as a democratic alternative to the elitist fraternity.

Many of these pre-World War II dorms were arranged around a quadrangle, much like Cambridge and Oxford, to shut out the bustling city, create a private outdoor space, and hark back to vaunted English forebears. The University of Wisconsin’s Adams and Tripp Halls, built in 1924-26, are typical. They face away from Lake Mendota, making them cozy and self-contained, and they are laid out in the shape of a square donut, with four sides built to the same height and a central courtyard inaccessible to anyone other than a resident.

The University of Wisconsin’s Adams and Tripp Halls, pictured here on a 1926 postcard, were designed to level class distinctions.

(Courtesy of Carli Yanni)

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College deans wanted to establish the same esprit-de-corps within houses as could be found in an exclusive fraternity, but that required engineering. Each man had a single bedroom, so to create community out of these single rooms, students were organized into houses, formed vertically off of a staircase in a porous arrangement sometimes called the staircase or entryway plan. A brochure directed at incoming Wisconsin students emphasized the possibility that dorm life in places like Adams or Tripp Halls could level class distinctions, noting that the son of a banker and a farmer’s boy could converse and relax in front of the crackling logs of the fireplace.

Unfortunately, for all these widespread claims of egalitarianism, the dormitory still perpetuated barriers. Black students, for instance, weren’t permitted to live in white dorms—at Wisconsin or nearly anywhere else in the U.S. When the enormously popular University of Wisconsin chef Carson Gulley, who was African-American, couldn’t find housing in Madison in pre-civil rights America (before the mid-1960s), university leaders assigned him an apartment in Adams Hall—but it was in the basement, and Gulley’s family had to enter through a separate entrance that was reminiscent of a servants’ door.

Chef Gulley’s apartment was shoehorned into an existing dormitory; in contrast, nearly every space at Howard University in Washington, D.C., was built by black architects for black students. At historically black colleges and universities like Howard, the social value placed on the dormitory was high. Black colleges represented in physical form the acquisition of land, the aspirations for education, and successful uplift of African-Americans—and a certain style of dorm life became part of the program. But that came with a private cost: The handbook for Howard students said, “Always remember that a Howard student is a marked student. Each represents more than himself or herself, because the University entrusts its honor and reputation to each student.”

In particular, the construction of Howard’s Women’s Dormitory (known today as Harriet Tubman Quadrangle), demonstrates how these spaces were expected to protect and prepare their residents. The building was overseen by Lucy Diggs Slowe—a nationally respected educator, tennis champion, writer, and founder of the first African-American sorority (Alpha Kappa Alpha) who was dean of women at Howard for 15 years. Built under her close direction in the 1930s, the Women’s Dormitory resembled Adams and Tripp Halls at Wisconsin in that it was a completely enclosed. Its courtyard was larger, however, and there were fewer points of entry to the inside of the dorm—it was closed off from the city for the protection of the young women. Howard’s administration assumed that female students needed greater protection and surveillance, so the dorm’s architect, Alfred Cassell, organized room entrances around long corridors instead of the entryway plan.

Lucy Diggs Slowe (front row, fourth from left), dean of women at Howard University and a highly regarded educator in the nascent field of student affairs, stands in front of the newly completed women’s dormitory with the national professional organization of deans of women in February 1932.

(Scurlock Studio Records, Archives Center, National Museum of American History, Smithsonian Institution)

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On the first floor of one side of the quadrangle, Cassell, at Slowe’s behest, supplied a panoply of social spaces, including parlors, a music room, and a social hall that could be used for special parties or for everyday dining. “A dormitory should be as much like a well-ordered home,” Slowe wrote, “as it is possible to make it”—in other words, a ladies’ dormitory was where the refinements of a carefully managed home would develop. Students entertained guests in order to learn to be good hostesses, and (later) good wives and mothers. The female students needed the extra living space, in part because they were not to go inside men’s dormitories; if a woman was meeting a date (chaperoned of course), he had to come to her dormitory. The female students at Howard were being trained in “thoughtfulness, courtesy, and hospitality,” Slowe said. Socializing was a goal of living in the dorm; the residence hall set a high standard for social behavior. The beautifully appointed parlors and music rooms were a stage set for enhancing students’ moral development.

Over the decades, American educators have cherished the residence hall as a transformational space in which adolescents turned into adult, morally conscious citizens. Of course, this may seem strange today, when living in a residence hall might just as well lead to a decline in moral character.

Either way, in the weeks around the start of the fall semester, students should stop and think more deeply about the physical space of their residence hall. What possibilities does it offer? Does it reinforce class and race divisions, or does it breakdown social expectations? Corridors make keeping tabs on students easy, but echo with noise; staircase plans prevent roughhousing but offer no communal space; lavish lounges in women’s halls were once intended to civilize male visitors, as were specially designed benches for courting couples. In spite of the fact that college housing policies often allowed for discrimination according to class, race, and gender, deans persisted in their vision of residence hall as a democratic alternative to the elitist fraternity. Against the backdrop of sweeping societal changes, communal living endured because it bolstered networking, if not studying. It’s no wonder families still pose next to the freshly made bunk bed.

Carla Yanni is a professor of art history at Rutgers University and the author of Living on Campus: An Architectural History of the American Dormitory.

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