#and ofc these problems just grow as the series goes on until we get to acosf where the bad writing just completely tanks it

[bookishfeylin]

What Tamlin did was not right, but for him that was the only option he could see that would keep Feyre safe in a court where he had few sentries.

I think this sums up another of my many issues with this series. Tamlin was ABUSIVE, but from his perspective, it makes sense for him to act the way he does. In addition to explaining his desire to keep her cooped up in the manor, we can even take it one step further: Hybern wants Feyre, is hunting her for her power. And the High Lords themselves even contemplate killing Feyre for her power in ACOWAR, when she reveals her magic at the High Lord's meeting. It makes sense for Tamlin to look at Hybern hunting Feyre, consider the likelihood of the High Lords also being threatened by her power, and going, "welp, guess we're not training her now. No powers=no reason for Hybern to hunt Feyre or for the other Lords to decide to kill her. Out of sight, out of mind. :)" Does that excuse his actions? HELL NO.

He's still an abusive piece of shit in ACOMAF, and is still incredibly controlling. No amount of explanations from Tamlin can possibly change the fact that he abused Feyre. Abuse is abuse, no matter how you try to explain it away.

And yet... Rhysand gets a whole chapter dedicated to explaining his abuse, and ultimately that chapter serves to excuse his actions. The moral of Rhysand's story is that abuse is ok so long as you have a good enough reason to do it. But by that logic, Tamlin's abuse should also be excused.

So we're in a conundrum here. If you attempt to argue, as ACOMAF does, that abuse can be "explained way" or "excused" by having a good enough reason, then that excuses Tamlin's abuse in ACOMAF. But if you attempt to argue that abuse is always abuse no matter what your excuse is, then Rhysand is also rendered as abusive as Tamlin is. ACOMAF's own morality makes the story cave in on itself.

my memory is shit and it has been a time since i last read acomaf, but when tamlin locked feyre, he was wrong, yes. But the fact that feyre didn't want to hear him and was constantly tring to put herself in risk of physical harm (like, she was too skinny and sick, had no trainning in self defense and no one new yet that she had power) and she already has a history of not listening safety warnings and going to dangerous places anyway (like in the camalai, she went there as human, two times i think, and left her room at night insteaf of locking the door as anyone with a drop of sense would do in this situation) wouldn't make his actions understandable? (Not justified bc i still think it was wrong, like, when i imagine myself in his shoes i honestly not sure what i would do with a person like feyre bc she doesn't listen. I think I would put 3 bodyguards to take around in a city maybe? Or if the situation was too bad to at least let a space around the manor so she can walk around? I really idk...)

And when we compare it to acosf, nesta wasn't putting herself in risk physical harm, she was simple having sex, she was starving herself, yes but she was drinking so even as it wasn't the ideal, it kept her from completely starving. And the reason she was locked in the house of wind (or indirectly locked but still locked, since no one would take her out of there and she was too weak) was bc the ic felt shame of her.

What i mean is, when comparing both situations:

Feyre was locked bc she constantly doesn't listen to safety warnings.

Nesta was locked bc ic was ashammed of her.

And Tamlin is saw as the devil who did the worst thing in this situation, while what was done to Nesta is justified, when from a logical point of view what Tamlin did is easier to understand when you look at the danger feyre would put herself in, while what was done to nesta was purely bc she didn't do what was expected of her.

Many people really don't look at the situation from Tamlin's POV. Feyre didn't follow his warnings multiple times as a human and needed rescuing multiple times. He sent her away. She came back. She endured hell at Rhys' hands and then Amarantha killed her. Rhys has a magical deal where he will steal her a week every month and hasn't come to collect. Rhys - his worst enemy - hasn't come to collect Feyre, but why???

Tamlin is already paranoid at this point, but his manor should now be safe thanks to the magic returning. It is likely the one place he can keep Feyre safe from Rhys and all other threats. For him, keeping her in that house was about keeping her safe from Rhys/the Attor/other threats.

He was also not in a place where he could offer her stability or help because he needed help too. He suffered for 50 years, but prior to that we even know from Rhys that Tamlin's family is worse than "Beron's brood".

What Tamlin did was not right, but for him that was the only option he could see that would keep Feyre safe in a court where he had few sentries.

I saw a post on reddit the other day that annoyed me because it was talking about a sex scene at the beginning of ACOMAF and how it sealed the deal that they wouldn't be endgame, but Feyre was the one who kept initiating sex with him. Tamlin was often at the bottom of the bed in his beast form, not sleeping. He was not mentally okay either.

With Nesta, all of the IC (except maybe Elain) are mentally stable (okay and maybe azriel). They are all in a place where they can offer support and it not be detrimental to their own wellbeing. The issue we have with the IC is that - Amren washed her hands of Nesta - Rhys doesn't like Nesta - Mor doesn't like Nesta - Cassian only wants to sleep with Nesta

Which leaves Azriel as the only neutral member of the IC to help Nesta*

The moment they met any resistance from Nesta, it was treated as her being difficult. Not that she was somebody in pain. She wasn't ever offered the same love that Feyre was offered when she first came to Velaris. Nobody ever tried to be her friend before they became her jailor. Would it have been so difficult to have just gone to a tavern with her and open up that channel of conversation?**

If putting Nesta in the house of wind was about her safety then they would have done it sooner. They left her for months and months drinking and sleeping around. She could have been killed by any random stranger she met. It was only when she ran up a massive bill and put it in Feysand's name, did they find an issue with her behaviour.

Their idea of "help" was forcing her to do an activity she didn't want to do, in an outfit she wasn't comfortable in, in a place none of them like, in front of misogynists and they literally could not understand why nesta didn't want to train in Windhaven.

*all my nesta vs the buffer girlies can i get a heyyyy

**all my steel & flame girlies can i get a heyyyy

[andydrysdalerogers]

Cross-Checked ~ Chapter 23

Andy Barber x OFC Leighton "Leia" Andrews

Summary:

Andy Barber is having the best year of his life. His game is on point. It’s gets to play with his best friend and his fiancé just... dumped him?!. 

Reeling from a sudden change in status, Andy decides it’s time to just focus on hockey. Until his best friend's sister comes out with news that rock the entire organizations world., 

Andy has always carried a torch for the untouchable Leighton but in her hour of need, is now the time to shoot and score or risk getting cross - checked again? 

Warnings: Cheating (but not by the MCs); slow burn; friends to lovers eventually; SMUT!; pregnancy; jealousy; handsome goalies, evil exes...

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Banners by me!

Previous: Chapter 22 - This is MY Family

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 23 – She's Ours 

Andy 

Growing up, we used to be a threesome. But when we graduated from high school, Luke and I went to Boston University. Lloyd Hansen decided to go to play football for Harvard and then enlisted in the military.  

(By the way, nobody goes to Harvard to play football. But Lloyd has always been the exception.) 

It was hard to keep in touch with him when he was undercover or on a mission. But whenever he came home, I made sure I had time. That he came to a game.  

Lloyd Hansen has always had my back. That’s why I knew he was the only call I could make.  

“You’re exes are pieces of work, Barber.” Lloyd popped the candy from his mouth. “I mean, Jesus, what kind of person tries to take a child from a good mother? Should’ve let me run background checks on them.”  

“Like we knew they were capable of this,” I mutter as I take a sip of my coffee.  

“You should have seen it coming, princess.” Lloyd laughed before turning to Luke. “Need me to check out Miranda?”  

“The fact that you only met her a handful of times already tells me that you checked.” Lloyd winked and Luke sighed. “Look, did you find anything?” 

“I’m insulted.” Lloyd pouts. “I can’t believe that you doubt me.” 

“Fucking dramatic Hansen,” I tell him. I ball a napkin and throw it at his face. “I left my girlfriend and baby for this meeting.”  

“You’re no fun.” Lloyd reached down on the seat a picked up a manila envelope. “Like I said before, your exes are pieces of work. Ass-wipe number one, also known as Bret Anderson, started researching adoption procedures and parental rights after the incident at the baby shower. His lawyer, an idiot with very soft security measures, has drafted a sole custody agreement.”  

“Fucking hell,” I look at the copies of the paperwork. “When does her mother come into this?” 

“Right before. She places a call to Japan, about thirty minutes before a wire transfer of $1 Million hits his account.”  

“Why the fuck would my mother pay him?” 

Lloyd shakes his head. “I don’t think it was to pay him. I assume it was to finance.” Lloyd pulls another envelope. “This is where Fiona Mancini comes in. Andy,” he looks at me with a serious face I’ve only seen a few times in my life, “did you know that Fiona had ties to the New York Mafia?” 

My heart stops. “What?” 

“Yeah, Fiona is the niece of the don of New York’s underboss.” When I give him a blank look, he rolls his eyes. “You’re such a boy scout. It's the second in command. She is his niece. And while he wasn’t happy that she was in a relationship that was not approved by the family, he is more unhappy that she is unhappy.”  

“What the, and I say this from the bottom of my heart, fuck?” 

“Yep,” Lloyd popped that ’P’ like it was going out of style. “Fortunately, for you, I happened to have had dealings with this man before. I explained what his precious Fiona had done and well,” he smiled sadistically, “Craig Bailey has other problems then sitting suspended for knocking out your goalie.”  

“Fuck me,” Luke mumbled.  

“Indeed. He sends his apologies for the lies and hurt that his niece has caused, and she will be dealt with. So that part worked out. However, I have copies of everything and his phone number for you, just in case.”  

“Thank Lloyd.”  

“Oh, and he asked if you could go easy on his Islanders. The Rangers not so much.”  

This got a startled chuckle from me and Luke. “I’ll see what we can do.”  

“As for Bret, all the financials and legals are there. I already contacted your attorney for you and said that you might need some loss of parental rights and other possible paperwork set up.  He’s waiting for your call.”  

“I don’t know how to thank you Lloyd.”  

“Some box seats and an invite to the wedding would be nice. A bottle of scotch.”  

“I’ll send two.”  We stand and I give Lloyd a hug.  “Thank you, brother.”  

“Yeah, yeah. Kiss the girls for me and tell Leia that I saw her medical report.  She’s stronger than all of us and I’m lowkey jealous of how badass she is. You better be good to her. Or I’ll kill you.” He flashes me a wink. 

The problem with that statement is that he could. And it would look like an accident.   

I’m starting to hate the country club. The boys and I usually come here on the off season to play a couple of rounds, and the Bruins always host a charity tournament for the children’s hospital.  I think that maybe the only time I come here from now on. Especially if this meeting goes south.  

I turn to my best friend. “Are you ready for this?” 

He takes a fortifying breath. “No but it needs to be done. She’s gone too far now.” He looks at me. “Are you ready?” 

“Yep.” We walk towards the private dining room that I booked for today. The last thing I needed was for this meeting to go public. Not unless it was on my terms.  They are sitting there, waiting, talking quietly. They smile when they see me but Monica’s face falls when she sees her son.  She stands up. “Lukas, I didn’t expect to see you here.”  

“Yeah, I bet you didn’t.” He doesn’t move to greet her like a son should greet his mother.  He just sits across from her, a hard look on his face. Luke is someone who doesn’t get pissed often. But when he does, it's like raining hell fire. The one person he will always go nuclear for is Leia.  

I love that he’s on my team, professionally and personally.  

“Why did you come here?” Bret or Ass-wipe #1 as Lloyd called him, asks. God, his face is punch-able, especially when he looks like a petulant five-year-old.  

Luke shrugs. “When it comes to my baby sister and my niece, their problems will always be my problems.” 

I cleared my throat.  “We’re here to discuss the blackmail.”  

“Oh, Andrew, I wouldn’t call it blackmail,” Monica says sweetly. “It would be an arrangement to bring a family back together.”  

“This family is not broken,” I say through gritted teeth. “My family is perfect. So call it what it is Monica, its blackmail.”  I lean forward. “It’s coercion in the worst form. But,” I sit back, “I am willing to negotiate.”  

“You’re a smart man, Barber,” Bret says. “Now as I said before,” he slides a contract in front of me, “you sign over your parental rights, sign an affidavit stating that you are no longer in a relationship with Leia and the photos will not be published. Monica will also transfer the money to you right away.”  

I stare at the paperwork. These papers would take away the only family I have. The little girl who took my heart between her tiny hands and squeezed just two months ago. I think of the woman who makes me feel complete, my perfect match. I think of the future that I could be giving up but remember that I have the ace up my sleeve.  

“No.”  

A stunned look crossed both of their faces. “What do you mean no?” Monica sneered. “These pictures...” 

“Don’t compare to the financial statements and emails that you shared with Fiona and Bret.” I pulled the copies of the documents Lloyd had given to me and they both pale significantly. “I’ve highlighted the appropriate passages.” I pointed to them. “Proof that you have doctored the photos and are blackmailing me and Leia.”  

“I am a respected member of Boston society,” Monica argues. “No one will believe you.”  

I shrug. “Then I guess we can involve Antonio Mancini then.”  

“Who...” Bret starts but I cut him off.  

“Who is Antonio Mancini? Yeah, that’s Fiona’s uncle. He’s also known as the underboss of the New York mob.” Man, I wish I had been filming their reactions because, while the image of their shock and disbelief is burned in my brain, I would have loved to shown Leia.  

“Andy, be reasonable,” Monica starts.  

“You lost that right when you decided to blackmail by best friend, Mother.” Luke looks murderous.  

“Here is what is going to happen.” I pulled the papers I had gotten from my lawyer that morning. “You,” pointing to Bret, “are going to sign your parental rights over my baby girl and fucking disappear from our lives.  I also want you,” pointing to Monica, “to sign this affidavit stating that you are giving me all proofs and copies of these photos to me and that you will keep away from your daughter and granddaughter. At a time of her choosing, Leia will tell you whether she wants you in your granddaughter’s life or not.”  

“You can’t do this,” Monica squeaked. “Lukas, you can’t allow this.”  

“Not my decision but I support it one hundred percent. You abandoned us Mother, when Pops died. You choose money over being with us. Live with the consequences.”  

“I did what I needed to do to survive.”  

“So did we. Sign the papers.  Let Leia live the life she deserves.” He turns to Bret. “I warned you, when you came to me to ask Leia to move in.  I warned you not to hurt her. Not only did you do that, but you left her when she needed you most of all.  Thank God that she had the right man in her corner all along.” He looks at me. “He worships her. He protects her. He cares for them. He loves them.”  

Bret looks stricken. But without another word, he signed the papers, gets up and leaves. We’re now left with Monica, who’s perfect makeup is now streaked with tears. “Sign them Monica, and I’ll talk to Leia,” I tell her.  “Don’t make me go to the papers with this or the police.”  

“I just... I thought I was doing what was best for her.” She wipes at her face with a napkin before picking up the pen and signing. “Luke...” 

“No, not right now. I’ll decide when we speak again Mother.” Luke turns away. Monica lets another tear slide before she gets up and walks out.  

I blew out a breath. “Did that actually work?” 

“Yeah, it did, brother.” He notices another paper in the folder. “What’s this?” 

“The future.” I see that Luke’s phone is on. “What’s that?” 

“Revenge.”  He stops the recording and then sends it to an email address.  

k.dilaurentis@dilaurentislaw.com  

I stare up at him and he shrugs with a half-smile. “I’m petty. Sue me.” 

I drove around for a while after I had dropped Luke off at his house. I needed a moment to think. To reflect. To believe in my dreams again. I had been so close to losing it all. Yes, I could have survived Leia and Avery being taken away from me, but I wouldn’t have lived anymore.  

A year ago, I thought that I was going to be ok on my own. Just me and hockey. I had no idea that the house I bought we become my home. That the girl I watched grown up and then pined for, would become my girl. That she would bless me with a beautiful daughter.  

I didn’t know that losing one of my best friends would be the best thing that ever happened to me.  

I drove back to my home, relief flooding through me that I would find my queen and my princess there and that would never change. That the family we created would be together forever.  Pulling into the garage, I looked at the folder with the documents all of them had been signed except for one. Taking that particular one with me as I dropped my coat and keys in the entry way, I made my way to find my girls.  

It wasn’t hard to find them. Leia was rocking Avery in her room, singing a lullaby to her as she fed her. I watched silently, enjoying the beauty of the moment. To see mother and daughter together in the most natural way.  

“I know you’re watching me, love.” Leia didn’t look away from our daughter, but I saw the small smile on her face.  

“How is she?” I walked into the room, sat on the ottoman and leaned over to see my girl. She had a sleepy, milk-drunk smile on her pouty lips, eyes closed, dreaming her sweet dreams.  

“She’s perfect,” Leia said to me. She finally looked up at me but frowned. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing.” I looked at her before I kneeled before her. “Nothing is wrong.”  

“Why are you kneeling? Andy...” 

“I’m kneeling before you because I have to tell you something.” I took a breath. “I met with Bret and Monica today.” Leia went to speak but I stopped her. “Let me finish. I met with them, and we talked and they signed the papers.”  

“What?” 

“Bret signed away his parental rights and your mom signed an agreement that she would have no contact with us, with you, until you were ready.”  

Leia let out a soft sob. “So, it's over?” 

“Not quite.” I pulled the paper from where I dropped it on the floor.  “This is the final piece. I know you put my name on the birth certificate, but I didn’t sign it. I looked it up and since I wasn’t biologically the father, I couldn’t. But, when I picked up the papers for the meeting, I asked my lawyer to draft one more.” I handed it to Leia for her to read.  

She read it and gasp. “An application for formal adoption? You want to adopt her?” 

“I know I’m her daddy in every other way, but I want to make sure she knows, that the whole world knows, I’m her daddy and she’s ours. Will you sign the papers so we can be an official, on the record family?” The tears flow down her beautiful face and I try to thumb them away as much as I can. “Is that a yes?” 

She sputtered a laugh. “It's a hell yes!” I hugged them both as best I could before take Avery in my arms. I rocked her back to sleep before missing her forehead and breathing in that sweet baby smell.  

She is my princess, my baby girl, our daughter.  

Forever.  

NEXT

@patzammit @texmexdarling @slutforchrisjamalevans @firephotogrl74 @tinkerbelle67 @before-we-get-started @bunnyforhim @alexakeyloveloki @sunnyhummingbee @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @peaceinourtime82 @saucy-sassy-sparkly @kmc1989 @kandis-mom @lokislady82

[ruiniel]

TYSM again for your encouraging words on the WIP, and for allowing further discussions! :D So, just to let you know right off the bat that it's a heavily centred Al x fem!FC (fan character) fic playing on the typical 'girl ends up at castle' setting (I truthfully didn't have the faintest clue that this was basically a trope going into the fandom! :O My heart kinda sank, ngl, thinking I had something vaguely original, buuut... I was crazy deep into the idea already and it gave me such a dopamine boost that the problem practically became a "Ahh, screw it, gonna write it anyway!" situation. ^^; Anyhoo, everything is canon compliant until S4 (it's a bit of a reimagining - starts in Al's scene in the first ep). The first chapter is a bit weak 'cause it's mainly just the entire scene in word format with a few altered bits. Purposely done though, in order to 'merge' the story into canon, so to speak... <.<; After that, however, everything will be new text until the end-ish. This does effect the length of the timeline, by... a couple months(?) so I'm hoping it's not too farfetched (I must actually rewatch some parts to see just how badly it alters it <.<; ), but even if so... Eh? (Shrugs)

*Coughs* Needless to say, it's a very self-indulgent fic. I just really adore the idea of Al in this kinda setting; getting to know someone new completely after the trauma he endured without too much interference from the rest of the world, thus allowing them both to grow close, share their stories, and just to... heal, cut loose, be 'themselves' ;) and just... to play! (Because there's gonna be decent chunk of that happening). I know CV's not exactly the most fluff-filled series, but it has its moments, and I wanna add to it 'cause I'm soft like that and I just want good things for our boi...

That being said, there will indeed be plenty'a angst, hurt/comfort, drama, S4!Horse is a prominent character, and a boatload of fluff... I'm also delving deep into the effects of trauma, fear and loss and how they influence a person's actions and thoughts (just hope I can pull them off realistically enough ^^; ).

But yeah, that's pretty much the gist of it without going into TOO much detail. It has become my baby so I do wanna continue it, if even just for myself. ^^; Thank you again, though for allowing this! :D Really appreciate it! <3

glad to share and what you have planned here sounds fab! ah on 'ending up at the castle' - don't feel discouraged lmao i wrote it too, and wasn't the only one! i still like it and what happens from there is always different even if the context is the same, each fanwriter has their own additions/interpretations of the characters. i'm doing this fun little project with a friend (lotr fandom) we're writing the same story but with different endings. we use the same OFC, same pairing, canon MC with the same affliction. we read each other's chapters so far and trust me they're very different. it's a fun exercise both for us and people who follow both stories. I think you give two people identical starting points and you'll usually get two different stories anyway and we readers love more of a favorite type of cake (at least I know I do)

It'll be your unique spin, glad you're continuing it! the S4 horse dlfkdlof poor boi did so much for that happy ending, deserves the attention! happy writing, let me know how it goes!

[aerialflight]

Fic Recs (cause it's always nice to give a shout out and get people into things I'm into rn)

[The Magnus Archives] (I recently finished the podcast and I fell into a hole for a while so here you go)

Sing a Song of Sixpence by Kaiel

Ship: Jon/Martin

In which Jonathan Sims is a Siren, and he fails to notice any new abilities granted to him by the position of Archivist. Or really anything about the Entities at all.

Takes place in season 1 featuring Jonah Magnus’s slow decent into madness

(The new mythology interwoven with tma's worldbuilding is so freaking good and I love how all the characters change and develop because of these changes. Also, f you Elias)

Along Came a Spider by Dribbledscribbles

Ship: implied Jon/Martin

Sasha James is the Archivist, as expected. Martin Blackwood is menaced by Jane Prentiss, as expected. Elias Bouchard weaves his web, as expected.

All goes as it should.

At least until something calling itself Jonathan Sims steps in.

(Web!Jon in this makes me want to weep, it's so freaking good. A pretty long, very excellent oneshot on what could've happened if Jon got taken by the web when he was a kid. And Sasha as the Archivist is ALWAYS so cool, we love her in this house.)

A Break in the Clouds by Ash_Rabbit

“I’m eight.” the kid sniffs as if eight was any different from four, maybe not an unspeakable horror then, just a regular horror. “And I heard that the Magnus Institute deals with-” his little nose scrunches, cute. “-spooky things.”

“Do you have a-” he cracks a grin, and then rethinks it as small hands tighten against their burden.”-spooky thing to deliver?” gods he hopes not, it’s bad enough when adults walk in and lay out all of their baggage, but for a child-

“There’s a spider in this book.” the kid says solemnly, raising his textbook sized parcel. “It ate Evan Pritchard.” a bloody fucking Leitner. Of course an eight year old would find a murder spider book. “This seemed like the best place to bring it.”

(I never thought about what the Original Elias could've been like AND NOW I CAN'T STOP THINKING ABOUT IT BECAUSE OF THIS FIC. I LOVE HIM, HE'S COMPLEX AND HE CARES AND JON CARES AND THEY BOTH CARE ABOUT EACH OTHER. THIS IS THE CONTENT I WANT, OMG. Also, Jon being even smaller than usual is adorable, so cute. No wonder Elias wants to hug him, a LOT.)

See the Line where the Sky meets the Sea by The_Floating_World

Ship: Jon/Martin, Jon/Oliver Banks

When Jon is a child he looks into the infinite abyss of space. The Vast looks back into him.

(One of my all time fave fics in this fandom, no questions asked. I have reread this three times and am open to doing it again, god. Vast!Jon, such a concept. It's written so beautifully and the relationships Jon develops, so good. ugh. My heart. Please please read.)

Sweet As Roses by Prim_the_Amazing

Ship: Jon/Martin

“Come in, Martin,” he says, not looking up from his notes.

“Hi, Jon,” he says, and Jon stops writing at the sound of his voice. “We’re out of the green tea, but we’ve got lemon?”

Jon looks at him. Martin smiles at him in his usual tentative way as he sets the mug of tea down on Jon’s desk. Heat spikes so sharply in his gut that he twitches with it.

“Thank you, Martin,” he says, mouth dry, and he stands up.

“Oh,” he says, sounding almost surprised. He smiles again. “No-- no problem-- um, what are you--”

Jon takes Martin by the shoulders, leans up on the tips of his toes, and kisses him.

(You have no idea how much I howled through this fic, my god. *buries face in hands* The number of times I wanted to cry from sheer hilarity and horror reading this good lord.)

Things Could Always Be Worse by theOestofOCs

Ship: Jon/Martin, Georgie/Melanie

Sometimes, the most horrifying thing of all is what might have been.

Somewhere, Jon could swear he heard a crowd laughing.

Or: in which Jonathan Sims is forced to swap places with his alternate self—a tall, chivalrous hero extraordinaire, who knows neither fear nor nuance—and is sent to the aggressively straight alternate universe the Magnus Archives was never meant to be.

“Whatever place this is,” Jon announced, “I just want to be sure it knows I hate it.”

(I will say this once, THIS IS THE MOST CURSED THING IVE EVER READ EVER. Like holy hell. I can't believe this thing exists. please read it oh please please please)

-

[Supernatural]

heard from your mother (she don't recognize you) by Schmuzz

Ship: Dean/Cas, Jessica/Sam

A man named Cas wakes up in 2003 with no memories, but he's able to piece together a few things:

1. Supernatural creatures exist, and most of them will hurt innocent civilians if he doesn't stop them; 2. He has abilities that no human hunter should have, but he knows enough about human hunters to keep that to himself, and finally; 3. He keeps running into another hunter named Dean Winchester, who seems to be about as lonely as he is if he's willing to put up with those former facts long enough to help Cas unravel the mystery of who (or what) he really is.

For his part, Dean's still (not) dealing with Sam's departure to Stanford, and figures distracting himself with a bit of mystery and intrigue is as harmless as it gets, right? Right.

(THE fic I'm most into right now, been following this from the very start and it's AMAZING. Cas has agency and is making friends and S1 Dean is growing out of John's influence and is becoming a Person and the both of them first being friends then more. The slow burn as their relationship develops, SO GOOD. SO SO DAMN GOOD. *screams* Seriously one of the best spn fics I've read in a long, long time.)

anamnesis by cenotaphy

Ships: Castiel/Dean, Sam/Eileen

Chuck is depowered, Jack is the new god, and the world is free. Dean and Sam get into the Impala and chase down the miles on an endless highway, and their story is finally, finally their own to follow. At least, that's what Dean tells himself. But the diners and motels and painted interstate lines are blurring together and the smallest details keep catching at his brain like tiny fishhooks and he can't quite shake the feeling that not everything is exactly as it should be.

* Fix-it/alternate series finale. Canon-compliant through the end of 15.19.

(THIS IS THE FIC THAT GOT ME THROUGH THE FINALE OKAY. WHY COULDN'T THIS HAVE BEEN CANON. It's Disturbing and honestly plot-wise this makes more sense. Why couldn't we have had this. *screams*)

-

[Avatar: The Last Airbender]

where the stars do not take sides by WitchofEndor

Ship: Sokka/Zuko

When Azula is nine, she becomes an only child. She hears the Fire Lord call for Zuko's life, and in the morning, her mother and brother are gone. Azula may be young, but she isn't naive. She knows what happened to them.

Which makes it all the more surprising when Azula tracks the Avatar down and fights his group of peasant friends, only to find herself staring into an eerily familiar face.

(The fact one of the tags in this fic is, "Sibling Dynamic: Fucked Up But Wholesome" should give you an idea what this fic is like. Chaotic as HELL and I just love Azula here, she loves Zuko so much in her messed up way and Zuko loves her back in the exact same way lol. It's batshit and I am Here For This.)

-

[Naruto]

Eclipse by AislingRoisin (JayBird345) for HybrisAnaideia

Ship: Nara Shikaku/OFC

"In life, it's easier to remain stagnant and wallow in your troubles. But life isn't merely about continued existence, nor is it meant to be gone through alone."

(This is a fic that's slept on and I NEED people to read this. A self-insert fic that I find really interesting in its approach and the worldbuilding for the post-third war shinobi world is fantastic. I feel like there's a certain pattern with self-insert fics, not that is a detriment in any way to how much I enjoy them, so this fic feels fresh to me in a way I haven't read in a while. I am waiting eagerly for this to get updated! Please read!)

On Freedom and Other Formalities by iaso

Ship: Kakashi/Genma/OFC

When push comes to shove, Hiwa Inuzuka doesn't go down easy. Reborn into a new, dangerous world? She puts her past life as a spy to work. Thrown into a war? Hiwa does her duty, for Konoha. And when she's forced into an arranged marriage? All there is to do is beat them to the punch and get married first. Thankfully, Genma Shiranui is willing to lend a hand. Literally. SI/OC

(Listen, LISTEN, it's about the slow burn, the longing, the communication (it both has and hasn't and isn't THAT great??), the messy way you fit three very different people together, it's so freaking good! Also, Kakashi is so Chaotic here this is my fave characterization of him, you can't change my mind. And Genma is a Good Boi who is Doing His Best, along with the Self-insert character who I LOVE SO MUCH, SHE'S FANTASTIC FNEIWOPAF. Sped past this fic in the speed of light, I could not stop reading!)(Honestly, read all of the author's fics, they're all really REALLY good!)

Building a Castle by WhisperingDarkness

Without needing anyone to tell her, Sakura knew that talking to someone no-one else could see or hear would make her weird. It would draw the bad kind of attention to her, something people could make fun of her for.

She didn’t like being weird, but she did like the voice. Her inner voice was helpful and it was a part of her that had always been there. The idea of it not being there would have been so much weirder than anything else.

It was during her first year at the Academy that Sakura realised the voice was not in her head at all, but that it came from a cloudy shape floating next to her.

(Basically a short-ish retelling of Hikaru no Go. Only with more Shogi and Nara and Ninja's)

(Sakura can see ghosts (I'm noticing this is a popular trope for her) and it's really cute haha! Her relationship with Tobirama is sweet and I just enjoyed reading this so much.)

-

[The Magicians]

So Long (And Thanks For All The Books) by IncompleteSentanc (Erava)

Ships: Quentin/Eliot, James/Julia, Quentin/Margo/Eliot

When Quentin is told Julia wasn't admitted to Brakebills, he realizes he has a drastic decision in front of him. If he tells Julia about magic, he'll have his mind wiped as well as hers. But he can't just leave her behind, either. He can't lose his best friend, and he can't let her life a life with her magical potential stolen away from her.

So he makes a third choice.

(Really, and I mean REALLY well-done canon divergent fic, this is the Quentin & Julia friendship fic I have been looking for forever. It explores so much of what could've happened and I just love Quentin here, I really really do. Characterization done so right. I also recommend the author's other works too. Been a follower of them for a long time, they're great.)

-

[Game of Thrones]

The Road to Victory by writing_as_tracey

Too late in preparing for the Night King and the Long Night, the last stand at Winterfell is close to falling. Bran takes desperate measures to ensure victory, and Jon, Sansa, and Arya pay the price for it in a time unfamiliar to them, on the cusp of another war. [GoT, time-travel fix it]

(I swear, this fic made me laugh so many times, all the Stark are BAMF and fantastic, and Rhaegar gets Wrecked lol. It's crack btw, and the plot goes in directions you'll never guess and it's amazing hahaha!)

-

[Haikyuu!!] (I am very very late to the fandom but here I am)

Ballare (To Dance) by MidnightSparks

Ship: Iwaizumi Hajime/Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru, and platonic Kageyama & Kentarou (really love their friendship)

Kageyama’s first love is volleyball. His second, however, is ballet.

In one world, Kageyama Tobio is left behind by his parents. In this world, the existence of soulbonds keeps Kageyama’s parents in Miyagi and leaves Kageyama in the care of his grandma and grandpa.

(In which soulmates exist and that changes everything and nothing at the same time.)

(*buries face in hands* I have fallen for this ship so hard and I can't get out fudge me. I understand now. Their DYNAMICS FIEWONPAF)

Kings of Tomorrow by bokubroya (liarielle)

Ship: Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru

On the eve of Tobio’s 16th birthday, he counts down the seconds to midnight, and emerges with Oikawa Tooru’s name on his wrist.

It’s been two years since then, and Tobio thought they had an understanding. A silent, never spoken about understanding that this thing between them is nothing, and they’re going to pretend it doesn’t exist.

Of course, it’s just like Oikawa to change the game and leave Tobio wondering what comes next.

(I am WEAK for soulmate fics between these two, I don't even really like soulmate fics half the times what is WRONG WITH ME-)(Please suffer with me, I'm begging you. Its a good fic, thumbs up.)

-

[Crossover]

Honey and Magic by JustARatherVerySillyWriter, White_Squirrel for Super Carlin Brothers

Fandoms: Matilda (yeah you read that right), Harry Potter

Everyone knew Matilda was a rather extraordinary child, but even she didn't know she was a witch. Matilda Honey receives her Hogwarts letter in the year of the Triwizard Tournament, and soon, she will leave her unique mark on the magical world.

(Do I even need to explain how amazing it is to have Matilda in the wizarding world? And Matilda is a HUFFLEPUFF AND I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL THIS FIC IS GREAT PLEASE READ!!!)

An Eye for an Eye by DpsMercy

Fandoms: The Magnus Archives, Welcome to Night Vale

In which Jonathan Sims is not from the UK but instead, if you took his origins and turned them sideways twice then flipped them over, he technically would be from the US, the town of Night Vale specifically. Elias can’t do shit about it and gets a headache and slowly creeping madness instead.

(Look, I know probably everyone has read this because if they haven't, what have you been DOING with your lives??? Jon interning at Night Vale is Incredible, nothing phases this man, it's Delightful. I laughed so many times reading this, I'm not even kidding right now. Read or perish.)

The Favour by R_Cookie

Fandoms: Harry Potter, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

Ship: Original Percival Graves/Harry Potter

Percival is ten years old when his grandfather tries to tell him that he's ensured the greatness of the Graves legacy for him, that he ought to be eternally grateful - but the explanation is hijacked by a stranger who manages to intimidate Chester Graves with an ease never seen before.

or: Hadrian (Harry) Potter is the Master of Death, who grants Graves a boon. Nobody could have known that the Deathly Hallows didn't turn you so much into the 'Master of Death' as into the anthropomorphic personification of Death. And so, Death becomes Percival's guardian angel, and Percival does not spit out his cereal.

(Look, I don't know how I stumbled back into the FBAWTFT fandom either, it just happened and I'm grateful for that. Otherwise, I wouldn't have found this amazing fic. Their relationship is slow and strange and I just love how Percival is characterized here. Also, one of the tag promises that it deviates from canon so I am really, really excited for that! XD)

baby that's what i do by natanije

Fandoms: Naruto, Katekyou Hitman Reborn!

"Are you telling me," Hidan exclaims, incredulous, "that you collect money all this time to give to orphans?!"

Kakuzu pauses. He blinks a few times.

"Huh. I guess I do."

(Tsuna reincarnates as Kakuzu and it's HILARIOUS. HE'S SUCH A MOM HAHAHA)

[brightlycoloredteacups]

King of Traitors

Series: Brynhilda’s Saga

Pairing: Ivar x OFC

Warnings: None for this chapter

Tagging: @salt-is-a-terrible-currency

****

The Cliff of Cliffs had a cave system. As a child, Brynhilda had explored the systems to such an extent she still knew what paths lead to where. From the information she’d gathered, thanks to a recon mission gone very right, she knew that Boggvir’s men were situated right against the cliff, next to a crack that opened right in the middle of the camp. 

She has a plan to sew some chaos into the camp, not much, just enough to put the men on edge. Brynhilda’s force is small, excluding herself, there were seven in total that followed her. Alf, Dorfi, and five of the bravest women in the whole camp. The men that would have volunteered to come had other jobs to do. She turns to her people, “Remember, you can take as much as you can carry, but destroy supplies. Keep as quiet as you can, for as long as you can. If you get caught, I won't be saving you.” Everyone nods in understanding. “Good, lets go.” 

She sent other groups out that night that were going to help with creating chaos. One was setting up traps in the forest. In the early morning, they’d try to get a group of Boggvir’s men to follow them, and neutralize a small portion of the army. Another group was situated on top of the cliff, ready to fire arrows down at the enemy at a random time in the night. Yet another group was going to try and lead a small group of the enemy into a small skirmish to the south. 

Brynhilda didn’t have the bulk Boggvir did, even now, at the height of her popularity. She had to resort to guerilla tactics for the next few hours in the hopes of weakening the enemy, tiring them out, depleting some of the massive army. 

So many opportunities to go wrong...yet the reward was worth it. 

Brynhilda leads her group through the caves with no problem, out the otherside with only the smallest of sounds. When she finally saw the last woman out of the cave, she hisses,“Find cover, quickly.” They do as told, following her behind a stack of food. She looks at them, “spread out, start destroying supplies. Food, weapons, shields. Throw things into the ravine, steal things, I don't care. Get going.” Everyone disperses at her orders. They had one hour to complete their tasks before the attacks began. Then, they either get caught in the fight, or they escape without a scratch. 

For an entire hour, Brynhilda is on edge, anything could go wrong. Luck holds with her. She manages to find weapons just laying around the camp, just as she expected. It’s a pity that she has to give Boggvir this sorely needed reality check.  

Her confidence is slowly returning. She can do this, they can do this. A soft caw from one of the crows that perpetually follows her tells her it's time to go. She rushed back to the hole in the cliff, seeing most of her group. “Where is Dorfi?” She asks. “We don't know,” Alf tells her, “lost I expect.” Brynhilda curses. “Go back to the camp, I'll find Dorfi.”

“What happened to you not saving us?” Alf says, smirking, “Clearly I lied.”

”I saw him go towards the edge of the camp, toward the log trap.” A woman tells her. “Thank you,” Brynhilda turns heading back towards the camp, stopping when her group moves with her. “Go back to the camp,” 

“Not without you,” Alf says. “Look-” Brynhilda begins to argue, but Alf cuts her off,  “Don't bother arguing. We aren't leaving without you.”

“Well, don't blame me when we're still stuck here when things go to shit.” Brynhilda mutters, moving herself and her group towards the edge of the camp. It occurs to her that Dorfi really might be working for Boggvir, thus leading her into a trap. She grips her sword tighter, she'd behead him if that were the case.

She doesn't have to wonder about it though, as she hears Dorfi's voice through a tent. “I don't know anything about Brynhilda.” he says defiantly. She smirks, she loves it when she's wrong. “Oh? She didn't send you here to curse us all?” Someone sneers. Their voice is gruff, someone she doesn't recognize. She motions of her people to surround the tent. “Do you really think Brynhilda is someone that believes in curses?”

“Yes.” There was an awkward pause, “Do you think Brynhilda is someone who would use curses?” Dorfi rephrased. “Look, we all know Brynhilda wants us dead,” she steps into the tent for dramatic effect, cutting off the man’s tirade. She’s angry when she sees Dorfi beaten and bloodied. For a moment, she has to wonder if he really kept her secrete despite the torture.  “You're right, I want you dead,” she says. Before the man can even yell or draw his weapon, she runs him through with her sword, covering his mouth so he doesn't make much sound. 

Dorfi looks at her, smiling. He gets off his knees and stumbles out of the tent. Sheathing her sword, she follows him, bringing out a dagger from its holster and cuts his restraints. “What happened to not coming to save our asses?” Dorfi asks, delighted. Brynhilda just pats his shoulder. 

They were going to sneak back to the hole, but one of her ravens caw, loudly so everyone can hear it, a warning sign that her other plans are about to be set into motion. “Shit,” she mutters. Everyone readies their weapons, “There isnt enough time to escape,” Dorfi warns her, watching as people are now pouring from the tents, wondering why the fuck a raven is cawing in the middle of the night. 

“Please tell me you disabled the trap.” Alf says. Dorfi snorts, “course I did!”

“Tight circle,” Brynhilda instructs, bringing her shield in front of her. They form a tight ring as shouts of intruders begin to go up, now alerted to their presence. Men surround them. “Brynhilda, I don't like this,” Alf mutters, “Oh really?” Brunhilda snaps, “What's not to like? We're trapped in the middle of an enemy camp, surrounded, with fucking no way out.”

“Someone's testy,” Alf mutters, “She needs a nap,” Dorfi explains, “she gets cranky without her beauty rest.”

“I hate you both.” She mutters, bracing herself for an attack. The dam of tension breaks as soon as a random enemy charges at her and hits her shield. Everyone begins to shout, fight, run. Its utter chaos. 

Brynhilda wants to throw herself into the fight with wild abandon, her very being craves the blood shed, demands it, but she's divided. She has to get her people to safety. They have to survive. She defends them more than she fights. 

The enemy, composed of men she's led in battle, are confused at the new tactic. She's a brute force fighter, she charges and her opponent dies. Now she's yelling coherent instructions, staying back and helping her people. It confuses the enemy, makes them hesitate. 

Her new friends are just as adept at fighting as she is, a tall blond clears a path, striking so quickly anyone barely has time to react. Dorfi is clearly a distance fighter, throwing numerous little knives into the fray. The women dart in and out of small pockets of enemies, taking down two or three at a time. They work as a team and manage to get to the border, where fighting only grows heavier. 

The group Brynhilda sent out that was supposed to charge the side of the camp she’s headed towards is doing its job beautifully. The shock of the trap working had given them the advantage, confusion was sown, everyone was divided. “Retreat!” She yells, her voice is heard clearly over the battle. A horn is sounded and her men begin to fall back. Brynhilda stays until she is sure the last man has gone. She is about to join them when the enemy crowd parts, and she sees Boggvir. 

Her heart aches. A sick part of her wants to forgive him, to run into his arms and take comfort in his presence, most of her just wants to snap his neck then and there. He looks older than she remembered, he looks...terrified. “Enjoy your final moments,” Brynhilda calls to him, bowing, “Boggvir, King of Traitors” with that, she turns and runs. 

*

Her camp is riotous when she gets back. Through snippets of excited congratulations, she finds that all men have made it back alive with no more than a few bumps and bruises. Someone had the wherewithal to break out the celebration food. She notes there wasn't a mead cup in sight, good, mead was after the battle was definitely won. “To Brynhilda the Deathless!” One of her men yells. The cheer goes up, her name reaching the heavens. She laughs as someone picks her up on their shoulders, it's hard not to get caught up in the celebration. “To my warriors!” She says, throwing a fist in the air. This elicits an even bigger cheer. 

When she is put down, Alf approaches her, pulling her off to the side. “Sven tells me there's something that requires your full attention.” She follows him through the camp. 

They come upon her tent, small and unassuming, except for the large boar stitched into the side. A group of men surround something, the air is charged, as she approaches, they part for her so she can see what it is they’ve captured. The Volva that started this mess. She's not so pretty now, covered in dirt, hair wild, half starved. “What did you do to her?” Brynhilda mutters, feeling bad for the woman...only slightly. She glares at the men in turn.

“Your men have done nothing,” the witch says, looking Brynhilda in the eyes, “they were perfectly behaved.”

“Leave,” Brynhilda tells them. “Jarl-” Sven, who’d been among the group, begins to argue, but at Brynhilda's look he stops. They all leave. 

Brynhilda picks the witch up, and throws her into the tent, nearly gagging at the smell of her. “Are you cold?” Brynhilda asks, not bothering to wait for the answer. She throws a blanket around the woman. 

“Enough with the niceties. I know nothing of Boggvir's plan. He cast me aside the moment he got word you lived.” Brynhilda had trouble keeping the smirk from her face. “A wise queen told me once that women seldom have choices in life. We must take what we’re given and deal with it, ours is a most tragic lot.” The volva merely grunts. “She was loved, hated, and killed because she was a witch.” 

“What's your point?” 

“My point is, right now, you have a choice to make.”

“I told you I know nothing of Boggvir's plans,” Brynhilda ignores her, “become mine, work for me, and live under my protection,”

“Be a slave? Ha! I'd rather die,” Brynhilda nods, pulling out a dagger. “Very well,” she gets up and grabs a fistfull of dirty hair, pulling the volva's head back. Before she can even put the blade to her neck, the witch changes her mind. “I'll do it! I'll work for you! Don't kill me please!” Brynhilda lets her go. Smiling, she puts the dagger down, “I'll send someone to come clean you up.”

[67impalaandwhisky]

Destiny Is Heaven Sent

Summary: Knowing Dean Winchester since you were fifteen, you’ve always been pulled in his direction. Always wanting to open up the rattled and broken cage your heart lives in. But when the child you’ve been raising together dies, you find yourself closing up the cage of your heart again. And if destiny has one thing for you, it’s to break you down before bringing you back up.

Characters: Dean x You, Sam, Castiel, Bobby, OFC’s, OMC’s, (Ongoing)

This Series Is Set Through Seasons 1-6 With Knowledge That The Bunker Exists

Rating: 18+

Warnings (Ongoing and Will Be Updated): Grieving, Mentions of Rape and Defilement (As Per A Case), Show Level Violence, Swearing, Smut, Impreg Kink, Blood, Fighting, Drinking, Dean Being Dean, Fluff, Angst, Dom!Dean, Sub!Reader

Warnings For This Chapter: Grieving Over Dead OMC, Drinking, Swearing, Flirting

A/N: This is my first Supernatural fic ever! I’ve been writing for a while and have adored Supernatural since the beginning so I’m really excited for this series and I hope everyone enjoys it!

Chapter 2.

"Good morning!" Dean yells out as he unlocks the motel room door. 

To his surprise, neither his brother nor you were there to greet him. 

He furrows his eyebrows before looking at what should be his bed to see the sheets wrinkled and messed up. He was happy that you slept in his bed and not in Sam's like you've done throughout all these years.

He knows you would never get intimate with his brother, but he can't help the heart wrenching curiosity of it all. He shouldn't have slept with that girl last night, but he did to ease his pain. 

You both handle your grief differently and yet, it's the same.

He finds women to distract him, he makes offensive jokes to cover his cowardly self. He does all the things an asshole would do to stop the pain from spreading through his limbs and to his heart.

You barrel your anger towards anything and anyone. You completely shield yourself from the world like everything will hurt you, because it does. You drink the pain away until you're numb with relief. 

Two ways of dealing. Both disappointing to one another.

He lays down on the bed, grabbing the pillow and pressing it to his face as he sighs.

The smell of lavender and oak invade his senses. It was so you. It was home. 

He lets out a groan before flipping on his back and staring up at the water stained ceiling. 

You pretend to never love anything. Never give a fuck about a single thing. But, one thing you did love was Marsh. And, you weren't afraid to show it.

You would baby him and hold him like he tethered you to the planet because he probably did. 

He turned you all into a closer family then you were before. He made things domestic in the bunker. 

He made Dean feel like he finally had a chance. You felt like his wife, someone who he would bicker with and laugh with. Someone who discussed their son's attitude and his problems.

You were like his life partner. Until that fateful day.

"Good job, baby." You say sweetly as Marsh puts the gun down on the table.

Dean steps over, inspecting the shooting range sheet. 

"Hey dad?" The puberty cracking the young boy's voice makes his adopted father smirk as he pulls the sheet off of it's holder.

"Yeah bud?" He asks as he walks back over. 

His eyes catch a glimpse of the woman he's known for years as she combs her fingers through the soft brunette locks of the young boy in their care. 

She loved him so dearly. Finally having someone to care for. 

"Uncle Sammy said he found an easy job and I wanna help...Can I come with you, mom and Uncle Sammy?" He looks over at you and there's an unspoken conversation just with your eyes.

He's getting older and he wants to do this. He wants this life. He wants to prove himself. Dean can see his willpower and his need to grow up. 

When his father was younger, John treated him and Sam like recruits rather than his children. Dean chose to take it a different way, letting Marsh decide when he was ready and he says he's ready now.

They have to respect this.

"Sure you can, baby." You whisper before kissing his forehead and smiling at him.

"Hello Dean." The voice rips him from his memories and he sits up quickly with his hand over his heart.

"Goddammit! What do you want, Cas?" He barks out as he lays back down on the bed.

He hugs the pillow tightly to his body as the angel sits down on Sam's bed.

"I would like you to fall in love with Y/N." Cas says as he puts his hands on his knees calmly.

He lets out a sharp laugh before throwing the pillow at Castiel.

"Not this again!" He says as Cas gently places the pillow on his lap.

"You must do this Dean. You must make a child with her. It's your destiny." Dean sits up quickly, frustration starting to seep into his bones as he points at his friend.

"You don't get to sit there and tell me about destiny. You hear me? You telling me that I'm supposed to fall in love with her makes me hate the fucking idea. That we're supposed to get pregnant and have a kid? For what? So they-they could be a vessel just in case something wants to come crawling back and inhabit my kid? No thanks!" His voice is sharp and agitated as he walks over to the small fridge and grabs a beer.

It's five o'clock somewhere.

"I know this is...difficult for you to understand but-"

"God-fucking-dammit Castiel. It's not difficult at all to understand! I've known Y/N since I'm fifteen years old. I've loved her from the moment I saw her. I raised a kid with her. And you know what I can't do?! I can't show her how much I love her or be with her because of this stupid destiny crap." He says before chugging his beer and slamming the bottle down on the table.

There's silence in the motel room for a while. Closing his eyes, he knows Cas is still there. He didn't hear wings flutter and he can practically feel his gaze burning through his skin to his heart.

"Yes. I understand." Cas says quietly.

"No. You don't." Dean says simply before putting his hands over his face and sighing.

"You might see how I feel. You might be able to get a glimpse of it in my mind but you don't know a damn thing about what goes through my head. I thought I had something good. Was working up to something great with her. And then Marsh died and she's right back to how she was when we first met. When we were fifteen. You don't know how destroyed I am." He says finitely, waving his hand as if to tell his friend to just stop talking.

Dean opens his eyes to the empty room before scoffing loudly. The tip of his tongue laps over his bottom lip as he leans back against the counter. 

You are his everything and his nothing all at once. 

Picking up the beer bottle, he flings it across the room only to watch the brown glass shatter into small pieces.

"Hi, I'm Agent Simmons and this is Agent Thayer we're with the FBI." You say, holding up the badge to the coroner.

"Great, thanks for coming KISS but I already told everything to the sheriff. If you didn't read the report." The older man says as he gives a short glance to your badges.

"Right. No of course, but we're looking into it because the case is so odd. So if you could just tell us what you told the sheriff. We would appreciate it." Sam says as you walk along the corridor. 

"Well you got that right, kid. Odd isn't even the word. Try freaky." He says as he pulls open one of the smaller doors that line the wall.

You can smell bleach along with the underlying scent of decay. Grimacing you focus on the covered body as it rolls out of the wall unit. 

This was never the most fun job but it beats waiting at the motel for Sam to get back, or worse. Dean.

You couldn't help but be bitter that he didn't show back up last night. Too deep into the pussy that he got last night to even think of you.

Even though there's no reason why he should think of you.

You weren't together. You've never been together.

He made that clear when you both were seventeen. He could see how comfortable you were with him. Flirting and giggling all the while as you helped his father out with jobs.

John encouraged canoodling between you two, honestly. And you think it put Dean off. Or maybe it was just you in your entirety that he was putting off.

He would only flirt and tease playfully when he was drunk. And, as you got older and went out to bars you noticed that he did it with everyone. But, you were comforted when he laid it on thicker with them. Almost like he could just be himself around you.

"So what are we looking at here?" Sam mumbles as he grimaces.

You put your hand over your mouth, happy for the distraction even though this is so fucked up, as the sheet is taken off her body.

"We had to vacuum out her insides. It was all mush. But her kidneys were intact which was odd. And this." Spreading the girls legs, you can see black, thick goo shining like oil on her thighs.

"Haven't gotten the test results back yet on what exactly this stuff is." Swallowing uncomfortably, you look away before shivering.

"Got it." Sam whispers and you can practically hear the gag in his voice.

"I hope you catch the son of a bitch. Or at least make out heads or tails of what's going on." The coroner says covering up the body.

"Jesus." You whisper before closing your eyes.

"Thank you. We'll see ourselves out." He says before putting his hand on the small of your back and walking you out of the room.

"Absolutely disgusting." You say to him as he undoes his tie, weaving through people in the hallway before ending up back next to you.

"What is going on? I've never seen that before." He says dumbfounded. 

"What ghost has the mojo to do that? Ectoplasm cum? That's just insane." You say as you both shove the doors open.

"Hey Y/N...do you wanna talk?" Sam asks as he makes his way towards your car.

You stop in your tracks before tilting your head.

"What Dean did last night… It wasn't right of him. And, I know you must be feeli-"

"Keep it to yourself kid. I'm as fresh as a daisy." You cut him off as you unlock your car.

"Yeah… Okay… Right. I just-- I'm here to talk to you always, you're my best friend y'know?" Sam says gently as he climbs into the car with you.

"I know Sammy." You mumble as the engine purrs to life.

Too bad there's nothing to talk about.

Ending up back at the motel. You shove the door open to Dean and some random chick as she sits on his lap.

Your jaw clicks and you throw his bag of food beside him before walking over to the fridge and grabbing a beer.

"Hey Y/N. This is Candy." You scoff in disbelief and your heart clenches as you press the bottle cap lid above the corner of the table. 

Slamming your hand down, the cap pops off easily and you give a fake, terse smirk to the girl as she waves.

There was a time when Dean called you 'Candy girl' for a completely different reason. It was a pet name you cherished but now you think it's sickening.

"Candy girl!" Dean calls to you as you put your rifle back together. 

You look up, one eye squinting from the blazing sun as he holds out a chocolate bar.

"Oh man! I love Twix." You say grabbing it from his hand. 

"I know. That's why I got it for you." He says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"This is why you call me Candy girl?" You ask lightheartedly as you rip open the packaging.

He pushes the hood of Baby up before turning his head slowly to you.

"No. I call you Candy girl because you're the sweetest woman in my life. God. You moron." He mutters before burying himself inside the front of his car.

"Get out." You tell her as Sam enters the room.

His eyes go wide and he looks at you quickly before swallowing thickly.

"Oh Y/N. Come on…" Dean whispers at the fierceness of your voice.

You look at him expectantly before chugging your beer and wiping at your mouth with your thumb. 

"Dean Abel." You mutter as you grab another beer.

"Okay, sweetheart. You heard the boss. No fun for me today." He says as he runs his hands over her arms. 

You are so grateful he has never uttered the word sweetheart to you.

It makes you feel as if you're a smidgeon different then all the other women he's ever known.

You don't watch as she leaves but you can hear her heels clicking and you can see Sam move out of the way out of the corner of your eye.

You take in the broken glass by the bathroom before shaking your head slightly.

"Why don't you do some fucking work or something?" You ask him as the door gets swung shut.

"I was doing work. Apparently our dead girl was a prostitute that worked with Candy." You hum to him before leaning back against the counter.

"So that's what you do now? You pay for it? Last night you seemed to like getting it for free." You mumble as you grab another beer. 

Sam flinches while Dean raises his eyebrows towards the heavens.

"Got something to say to me, Candy girl?" Dean asks with a laugh.

That's it.

"Y/N!" Sam screams as you charge at his brother. 

The bottle of beer smashes onto the floor, your feet stepping into the puddle of hops and suds as you ball up your fist.

"Bring it on." The oldest whispers as he clenches his jaw.

"STOP IT!" Sam bellows as he wraps his arms around you.

You struggle against his vice grip, your tongue running over your teeth as you smile at your best friend. 

"Can't you see how horrible you're being to each other? Beating each other up and taking your guilt about Marsh's death out on one another?!" The younger brother asks as he throws you down onto the bed.

"Sam. Don't." The authority in Dean's voice makes you swallow nervously.

"I miss him too, Dean. We all miss him. But you can't keep beating yourselves up like this. You can't keep treating each other like shit when it's not your fault he died. He wanted to go with us!" His voice cracks as he puts his hands down to his sides dejectedly.

"I said don't!" His brother barks out before looking at you.

You didn't even realize you were crying until now. You press your fingers to your cheek, gathering a tear as it falls before scoffing and wiping your face.

"Fuck this." You whisper as you stand up.

"Where are you going?!" You hear the oldest call to you as you walk to the door.

"Away from you." You mumble as you tug the door open harshly.

Dean sits in complete silence. 

He's been this way for an hour. He usually cleans guns when he thinks, or drinks. But, he can't bring himself to do anything. He just wants to crawl into a hole and stay there for all eternity.

You're so closed off. So gated from this reality now. It's breaking his goddamn heart. 

God knows what you were up to. 

Fights between you both is always bad. But there's never an underlying tone of hate. 

He could hear the venom rolling off your tongue like it was nothing.

He could feel the angst that was vibrating throughout your body so clearly. 

And, he just goaded you on. Because, that's what he's always done. But he shouldn't have. 

"Dean?" It's a mere whisper in the dark room.

"Yeah." He whispers back, a choked voice echoing throughout the room.

"Aren't you going after her?" Sam asks quietly as he lays down in bed.

"No Sammy. She doesn't want me to." He looks down at his calloused hands before biting his bottom lip and lowering his head.

"Yes she does. You know that. She doesn't even know that she wants you to. But you do." His younger brother replies.

"I can't go to her Sam. I can't let myself fall into this trap. Her hating me is better than nothing. Then she can't love me." 

"You're an idiot. She loves you regardless. Whether she's going to admit it to herself or not. This whole destiny thing is bullshit. So what if you guys have a kid? Doesn't mean it has to say yes to being a vessel." Dean clicks his teeth at his brother's words before carding his fingers through his hair.

"For now you have to go make sure she's okay. You have to take care of her. She's hurting so deeply." 

He mulls it over for a minute or two.

He's worried sick already. He just has to go. Even if it's wrong to give in, it's right to take care of her. Always.

Standing up, he grabs his jacket and his car keys.

"She'll be somewhere fancy since she wants to get rid of you." His brother says as he walks towards the door.

"Bitch."

"Jerk." Sam mutters as he rolls over in his bed.

"Just put down the fucking bottle." You mutter to the bartender.

"Ma'am this is a two hundred dollar bottle of whisky." The bartender says as he looks over your appearance.

"Did I stutter?" You ask annoyed, handing him the money.

As he sets down the bottle, you put your hand under your chin before huffing out.

This whole thing with Dean. This whole battling each other with mean words and fisticuffs is so exhausting.

When Marsh was around you never really fought. You had tiffs and even those ended with light hearted slaps. These fights, they're big. And, they take an even bigger toll on your mental health.

Yes, you're pushing away the one man who makes you happy.

Yes, you're closing yourself off again just like when you were a teenager.

Yes, you're completely ignoring reason for the hatred you feel in your gut.

But of course, you couldn't hate Dean Winchester. Quite the opposite.

And, that's what makes your stomach churn at night.

That's what makes everything a bitch.

He started it first. A few days after Marsh's death-- the whole push Y/N away until she wants to claw her own eyes out task.

And, he is doing a great job at it.

You're not letting him in and he's pushing you to the edge of not even wanting to get back to a place you're comfortable with him.

But, why?

Why is he pushing you to the edge like this? Why do you even fucking care?

"Can I get an extra glass over here, sweetheart?" You hear a deep voice ask and you let out a low whine as you cover your eyes with your hand.

Great. Just fucking fantastic.

A chair scrapes loudly across the linoleum flooring before you feel his big, rough hand on your bare thigh beneath your ripped jeans.

You shiver at his touch before turning your head to him and peeking through your fingers.

"I know you better than you know yourself." He says before winking at the girl as she sets down the glass.

You watch her blush and you grimace at the interaction before slinging back the shot.

"You bought the whole bottle, Mel Gibson?" He asks as he pours himself a shot.

"Go away. Please." You whisper before putting your hand below your chin again.

"Nah. I'll help you finish it. Come on. Let's go to the booth." He says, jabbing his finger to the other side of the bar.

"Why? What's the point? Hey, Carrie. Wanna distract this guy for me?" You ask the bartender and she perks up at the thought.

Typical.

"No thanks. I'm with my wife." He says before grabbing the bottle and your wrist.

You snort at his comment before whining as you get dragged off to the booth like he asked.

"You shouldn't lie to women like that Mr. Winchester. They might think you're not chivalrous." You jeer as you slide into the booth.

"Ha. Ha. You're hilarious. Shut up." He deadpans as he squeezes in beside you.

He was so close you could smell him again. You could smell home.

You push yourself away from him before grabbing your glass and shaking it asking for more.

Looking up at him, you find his deep green eyes staring at you and it makes you feel like a deer in headlights for once. They were so riddled with emotion. Emotion so far beyond anything you've seen for quite some time now.

He pours you some whisky before leaning back in the booth and sighing heavily.

You just stare at each other for a while. Both of you drink one another in, but you break the line of sight first.

You take a large gulp of the alcohol before cringing. The burn is soothing to the flaming fires in your gut.

"I'm sorry. I've been pushing you when you don't deserve it. I've been angry at the whole world." He says finally.

His voice is laced with sorrow and your heart pangs.

"I don't need your sorry." You retort before pouring yourself some more whisky.

"Hey… Hey-" He whispers softly as he holds his hands up, "-I'm not trying to fight with you. I'm not trying to create a rift between us. I'm opening up." 

You grumble gently. You wish he just fucking wouldn't. It's always such a blessing and a curse to see him like this.

He pours his heart out and you have the overwhelming emotion to do the same.

"I'm sorry too." You whisper back before finishing off the glass.

"We both handle things so wrong when we're upset. Sam says it's because we're almost like the same person and I think I'm starting to believe it." He says before chuckling.

You begin to count the freckles on his face again, like you once did many moons ago.

He's so perfectly not yours.

So perfectly Dean.

The silence this time is easier. It's almost welcome. 

"I shouldn't have slept with that girl last night. That's on me." He mutters above the lip of his glass.

You tilt your head before snorting, "We aren't together. You don't have to apologize to me. We've never been together."

"No! I know!-" He says quickly, "-But still that doesn't mean it was right. I just wish...I just wish things could be like before. When Marsh was around...there was no sorrow or no anger." 

You sigh before putting your hands over your face.

"Yeah. I know. But he isn't here anymore and we all deal with it in our own way." You pour some more alcohol.

"Yeah we do...But, I want you to lean on me more. I want you to trust me with your thoughts like you used to. Like when you cried when you killed your first wraith." 

You begin to smile at the memory before rolling your eyes.

"I was crying because I literally felt like I was going insane." You deadpan earning a chuckle from him.

This is easy too. Falling back into routine.

The cage you've locked yourself away in these past weeks is slowly opening again and it's a terrifying notion.

"Or the time when you got abducted by the djinn and you told me to leave you there. Because you loved your dream so much." He says and you smirk in response.

"Nothing like a djinn twisting my mind into having four babies with you and you being my husband." You say raising your glass before downing it all.

He swallows thickly and looks away before clearing his throat.

"We almost had that. Hurts that we can't have that." He mumbles before pouring a tall glass for himself.

"We aren't meant to be. You know that. You fucking told me that." You say as you throw your boots over his lap.

He looks down at your boots and you can't quite read the emotion in his eyes as he begins to play with your laces.

He lets out a small laugh before shutting his eyes and nodding.

"Would you? If we were meant to be? Would you be with me?" He asks before looking back up at you.

He's never asked you that before. You stammer on syllables before putting your hands through your hair.

"I don't… I don't know." You say truthfully and you see him nod rapidly before swallowing.

"What if it was our destiny to be together? What if we were made for one another?" His voice is feeble now. 

You click your teeth before slumping down in the booth.

"I can't tell you an answer because it's not true." You say finitely. 

He hums in agreement before looking away.

"Yeah… You're right." 

"Come on you lazy drunk." Dean groans out as he pulls you out of the car.

You stagger on your feet as you fall into his chest.

"Dean Abel." You slur out as he closes the door with his foot.

"Yeah. Yeah. I got you, princess." He murmurs as he scoops you up into his arms.

"I bought a room. Five." You say holding out the key with a large smile.

He shakes his head with a smirk as he walks down the strip of concrete of the motel.

"Why'd you do that?" He asks as he takes it, pulling the key loop onto his finger.

"To get away from you." You reply as you bury your face into his neck.

"Oh...Joy." He mumbles as he approaches the room. 

Opening the door, he makes quick steps to the bed before gently laying you down.

"Okay. He-Here I am, Dean. One of your sweethearts. Strip me!" You whisper as you hold your arms up. 

He smirks as he shakes his head before rolling his eyes.

"You're a fucking psycho." He mutters before helping you out of your jacket.

He takes in your slightly parted lips, your cheeks that are tinged pink from the alcohol that pumps through your veins.

He sighs gently as he takes off your shirt.

His eyes drift anywhere but your body as he discards your shirt elsewhere.

"Take your pants off." He instructs as he takes off his jacket.

"No. You take 'em off." You mumble as you close your eyes.

Grumbling to himself, he rolls his eyes before pulling your pants off of your legs in one quick swipe.

"Now go to bed and don't throw up." He says as he tosses your pants onto the couch.

Your head as heavy as it is still lifts off of the pillow as you look at him, seeing double but two Dean's are better than none.

"Sleep with me." You whine patting the spot behind you.

He hums to you, an unsure noise before sighing and taking off his shirt.

Your eyes rake over his toned chest and stomach, defined just enough to see small abs beneath his soft looking skin. You can see the freckles that fleck and dot his chest and shoulders as he walks over to the bed.

"I ain't takin' my pants off. You pervert. Go to bed." He mumbles as he lays down beside you.

You smirk before pressing your head into the pillow. 

"I think I would…" You find yourself saying as you close your eyes.

"You would take my pants off?" He asks loudly, his voice riddled with surprise as he wraps his arm around your body.

"If it was destiny and we were meant to be I think I would be with you." You say as he presses his chest to your back.

"Shut up and go to sleep." He murmurs as his forehead connects to the back of your neck.

"You don't know what you're asking for." He whispers as he closes his eyes.

Forever Dean Tags: @akshi8278​

[putflowersinmyhair-callmepretty]

The fate of a nun (Finan x OFC); part 5

GENERAL A/N: Hi there! This story is my first attempt to write a fanfiction. English is not my first language, so feel free to let me know how to improve my writing/language skills 😊 I will try and post a chapter per week, let’s see how it goes! The story takes place in season 3 and you will notice that I have used some of the sequences and dialogues from the tv series, changing them to include my OC. I did try not to be too colloquial and informal with my writing -giving the time of the story- but I preferred to make it more enjoyable than realistic, same goes for Finan’s accent. I’m nervous and excited to share my work, hope you enjoy! Bacini, Cate. A/N: Helu! So, this is super late butttttt I’ve been soooo busy with my classes and the translation I’m working on :) This is a filler part, but I find it extremely cute, plus Finan and Aoife are getting closer, my children :’) Have fun reading this. byeeee Summary: The life of the young novice Aoife completely changes when the Lady of Mercia arrives to the Abbey of Wincelcumb. Oaths, battles and love will turn her in a warrior. General warnings: Violence, Blood, Strong Language, Smut, Fluff, Graphic description of violence Chapter’s warning: Fluff fluff fluff, probably bad English? idk Words: 3410 Chapter Four.

Chapter Five: Stories and Returns 

At some point she had passed out; it must have been just minutes because, when she woke up, her face was still wet of tears, and her hair too. She stood up and just yet noticed that she was starving. In the hall, the warriors and the Lady were already eating, and she slid next to Osferth, who shot her a smile and pushed a plate full of bread and cheese in her direction. “How are you feeling?” she asked, and he playfully rolled his eyes. “I’m doing well mum, stop worrying!” He was healing just fine, he could already walk on himself and laugh without pain, but he still had to be careful, wound like his took some time to heal. “Are you all right, Aoife?” Aethelflaed, who had followed their playful banter, asked cautiously. The Lady was sitting right in front of her and she could see how swollen and red Aoife’s eyes were. Anyone could, especially Finan, who was sitting next to Aethelflaed and in front of Osferth. “I’m fine, thank you my Lady. I’m just tired” No one seemed to believe her. Finan leant forward and filled her cup with ale. “Eat and drink. Then we go for a walk.” And so she ate abundantly and slowly, careful not to let anyone see how nervous and trepidant she was to spend some time alone with Finan. What did he want? Had she done something? Had he done something? He stared at her the entire supper with a questioning look, and it did not help the uncomfortable feeling of excitement and fear that was stirring her soul. When she chewed down the last bite, he stood up and, with a little bow to the Lady, left the hall. Aoife shot a questioning look to her friends, who just shrugged with an amazed smile on their faces; Aethelflaed gestured her to follow the warrior and she obeyed swiftly, her heart beating violently against her ribcage. Finan was waiting for her just outside the wooden door and, when the girl reached him, smiled sweetly. For a while, they walked down the streets of Saltwic in silence. It was a nice winter night without wind nor cloud and Aoife enjoyed the cold air on her cheeks and how bright the stars looked. The town was still alive, the torches still burning in the alehouse and the voices loud. People would pass them and bow respectfully, and Aoife would smile to each of them and greet them with a soft “G’night.”; it warmed Finan’s heart. They stopped right next to the town well, facing each other. The stars were reflected in her eyes, the blackest eyes Finan had ever seen. He was used to the clear eyes of Uthred and Sithric and Osferth, that painfully reminded him of his mother’s eyes, but he had never seen such dark eyes, so deep and welcoming. He had to restrain himself from running his thumb over her lashes, which looked as soft as they were long and thick. Aoife was looking back at him, bolder that she would have days before. He hadn’t even noticed that he was chewing on the cross hanging around his neck, something that Aoife had seen him doing before, when he was lost in his thoughts. She found it precious, somehow vulnerable, a very childlike action, so at odds with his mature stance. And he had pretty hands too, with long thin fingers, different from the stubby hands of the Mercians. She was curious to learn where he came from, where his family lived. Had he always been a swordsman? He had the delicate hands of a musician, corrupted by the scars and dirty of his warrior life. There was a specific reason to why he had asked her to walk with him, but now that she was watching him in such a direct, open way, like no one else had ever done before, he could not find the right words to address it. “I never thanked you” he finally croaked, his voice just above a whisper. And she smiled , calmly yet questioning, still watching him boldly. “What for?” “For saving my life” “You don’t have to.” She assured him “It was the right thing to do.” He took her hand in his, succumbing to his own desires. Her skin was not as soft as he remembered, chapped and irritated by the wind and callous were the hilt of the sword would press during her training; on the opposite, her touch was delicate and prudent. He grazed his thumb on her knuckles and smiled, looking at her through his lashes. “Still, you acted like a true warrior and if I’m here today is just because of you. I shall never forget it, Aoife.” Under the dim light of the torches, she blushed and her bottom lip drop slightly, but she didn’t reply. “Also…” he kept going “I apologise if I’ve been too hard on you today.” “What made you think that?” He shrugged “I don’t mean to sound disrespectful, but you look…” he looked her head to toe “distressed.” She averted her gaze, eyes filling with tears. He was pitying her, then. She was too embarrassed to watch him, now, she didn’t have problems with being emotional, but she did not like compassion. “It’s not you, Finan.” She mumbled, her voice shaking “It’s just…” she couldn’t find the words to explain how she was feeling, torn between excitement and guilty, happiness and grieving. She gasped for air and tried to wipe the tears from her face, trying to push herself away from the warrior. But he did not let her step back, fearing that if she left, she would never be so confidently herself with him. He reached her and embraced her without hesitation and, despite her surprise, her body reacted naturally and she hid her face in the crook of his neck. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she noticed that he smelled of leather and metal, the scent she expected from a warrior, and just behind it she could detect the natural fragrance of his skin, and she loved how intimate that new experience was. The warmth of his body was comforting and welcoming and she couldn’t understand if it was her heart of his beating fast against her skin. He held her tightly, her fingers dipping in his back, and he was not sure where to put his hands, afraid to cross any line, but she smelled so good and her body was so warm that he could not help but melt against her and run his fingers through her hair until her tears stopped. They were ready to let go. The night had fallen long before Osferth decided to retire to his room in the alehouse. He walked slowly, in the cold air of winter. He was enjoying every second of his stay in Saltwic, knowing well how rare moments of peace were for a warrior. His wound was itching, and he picked up his pace, dreaming of his warm bed and the ointment Aoife had prepare precisely for when the healing wound would become too uncomfortable. She was an amazing healer, and he had wondered many times if he would be alive without her help. The well was fairly close, which meant that in less than a minute he would be at the alehouse. And right in front of the well, he witnessed the blossom of a love. Aoife and Finan embraced in the dark. Since that night, Finan had spent most of his time with Aoife. Honestly, he hadn’t had much to do, while she seemed to be always busy; so, he had followed her around for days, helping and amusing her. He had noticed that she was growing bolder every day, quick to answer his remarks. She still blushed, though, and he was proud of how much his words and actions could affect her. He had found himself spending with her every day and thinking about her every night; he knew he was slowly falling in love with the woman and he was trying to fight it. She was young, innocent and inexpert of everything that the world had to offer; she deserved someone just as fresh as her. Even with this knowledge, he could not stop himself from spending all his spare time with her, from thinking about her constantly, from looking for her in every room. Besides, when he tried to stay away from her, she would find him everywhere, with a little pout on her full red lips. “Were you hiding from me, Finan?” she would ask, mocking pain with a hand on her chest and he would smile and bow dramatically in her direction “I was not, milady. I was looking for you.” To assay her, Finan started telling her the most vile stories of his past; he talked about blood and swindles and heartbreaks; and one day, while he was sitting on the fence of the stable and telling her one of his cruellest stories, she ceased grooming her horse and, with a sharp smile, commented “I know what you’re doing, Finan.” “What am I doing, then?” “You’re trying to scare me away. But you’re actually doing the opposite.” she run her hand up and down her mount’s face “Because I know you now, and I know you’re not the man you’re telling me about. Not anymore, at least. I think every one of those stories made you the man you are today, a much better person than you think. I’m no fool, and surely, I’m not as innocent as you think I am. If I’d had the faintest impression that you were not a good person, I would not be here now.” “Are you making a pass at me, dear?” She looked back at him with a gaze so deep he felt naked and, unexpectedly, something that hadn’t done since he was a child happened: he blushed. It infuriated him how much power she had on him, how his body melted right against hers when she snuck between his knees and pressed her hands against his tights. He lowered his face to meet her eyes and she stood on her tiptoes. Was she about to kiss him? Did he want her to? Of course he wanted to kiss her, but was he ready for the consequences? He was aware of how his heart worked, how hardly and quickly he fell in and out of love with a woman; he did not want to hurt her in that way. Yet again, his worrying alone was an indicator of how different what he felt for her was from his previous women; he had never worried for the consequences of his actions before, but here he was now hesitating to kiss the prettiest woman watching him from under her black eyelashes. And he hesitated a moment too long, because when he finally leant towards her, she shot him a feral smile and pushed him down the fence. The last thing Finan heard, before the splashing of his body on horse shit, was Aoife’s crystal laugh. And he was happy. Winter was giving the way to spring slowly but relentlessly, the sun now a little warmer and the days a little longer. That afternoon Finan had joined Aoife at the stream and little white flowers were already sprouting from the snow along the banks, where the temperature was higher, and the first birds were chirping on the branches moved by a delicate wind. All day long, Aoife had been busy with Aethelflaed, Finan had seen them walked down the streets of Saltwic, arm in arm. Now, finally, they were together and he was watching her washing clothes. He didn’t understand how she could dip her hands in the cold water without freezing, but she had assured him that the shock was only temporary and after that, it was almost as if the water was warm. “Tell me something, Finan.” She then requested, while he was adjusting a strand of hair behind her ear. With time they had become physically very closed, always touching each other in some way. “About what?” She stopped to look him in the eyes “I don’t know, something… how did you and Uthred met?” That was a story that many knew, but he still did not feel comfortable in telling it. Yet, Aoife was the one person who made him feel safe, calm, unjudged. If there was someone that could cast away the ghosts of his past, that would be her. He dipped the tip of his finger in the cold water, rippling the surface. “I have done things I am not proud of, Aoife. And some of them had led me to slavery. I have spent winters and summers at the bottom of a ship, rowing and rowing, with the sun and the wind and the snow. I reached a point where I could barely remember who I was, where I came from, why I was there. Then one day Uthred came. He was dressed as a slave, and was rowing as a slave, but there was something behind his eyes that told a whole other story. And somehow, in that hell, we bounded. And when his brother came to the rescue, he did not abandon me, he gave me a reason to live. He still do every day, and I owe him my life. He not only saved me from that ship, but he also brought me back to the man I was, and he gave me a chance to be someone better than that man. And we are bound in ways that no one could ever understand; we have suffered and seen things that no one else could ever understand. That’s why my sword is his, until the day I die. I would give my life for him, my soul for him. He is my brother. My family.” Aoife was holding his hands, he hadn’t even noticed, up until that moment, that she had stopped washing and had knelt in front of him. She caressed his face gently, brushing her cold fingertips against his scars. She had many questions, about his past, his regrets, his fears. She felt as if she knew nothing of him while knowing him deeper than many could say. He was a mystery, with a very dark past, yet he was the person she trusted the most. “Thank you for sharing your story with me, Finan” she whispered softly, and he smiled, leaning in her cold palm and kissing it softly “Thank you for listening, Aoife.” She smiled, returning at her duties. “Your name is Irish too, did you know that?” Finan watched her stiffen, suddenly uncomfortable “I do know that , yes.” Here it was, the thing he couldn’t bear about her: it was easy for him to open with her, he had trusted her entirely in a short period of time, while her, as much as she seemed to enjoy his company, had yet to trust him with her past; and perhaps it was wrong, but he wanted answers to his curiosity, about her family, and the mysterious man who had gifted her with weapons and a horse, and her past; so he kept pushing her. “Was your mother Irish?” She paused “No, Finan.” He was walking down a dangerous path “What’s with that name then?” She looked up at him, with a pained and somehow angry face “You won’t rest until I’ll give you answers, right?” “Indeed, lady.” She sat down with a huff “My mom was in love with an Irish man and wanted to honour him with my name.” “Was he your father?” “Not quite.” Here she was again, reticent woman. Finan had even talked about it with Osferth, with whom Aoife seemed to have bounded and she felt freer talking – Finan at times could not stand how close they were – but the monk too had admitted that he had tried but failed in that same situation. Even Aethelflaed knew nothing, and where a Lady can’t succeed, what are the chances for a warrior to? Therefore, he took what she had offered him, which was a lot considering the previous attempts, and held her hand to his lips, kissing her cold knuckles. “Let’s go back, you’re freezing.” They had walked back in silence, hand in hand. The sun was setting one they entered the hall, where the warriors were enjoying some spare time playing dice and drinking ale. Finan left Aoife with one of his sweetest smiles and joined his companions, while she sat down next to Osferth, who was warming up in front of the fire. “You’re getting closer by the day, aren’t you? By Sunday you’ll be married.” The monk joked, gaining a light kick on the shin; the training had helped her quite a lot with her fighting skills, but, as a result, she had become more violent.“Hey, you should not hit your patients!”“I brought you back to life, I can end it just as easily.” Osferth laughed, wrapping her shoulder with his long, thin arm. He had found himself growing less shy every day and he had now reached a point of ease with Aoife that he had become physical affectionate, a part of him he had hidden successfully during his monk life. Growing up in a monastery, he hadn’t spent much time with people his age, and even now, travelling with Uthred’s warrior, he felt that there was a certain aspect of him that they could not understand. Aoife, on the other hand, had experienced a similar youth and with her he could be himself. By the day, she was becoming more and more a warrior, as was he, but they would always remain children of the church and the type of education they had been raised through was different – if not opposite – to those of the others and for that reason they were bounded as siblings. Finan watched them for long, curious – and somehow jealous – of why they were laughing. He had noticed that everyone adored Aoife, she had the singular power of making people at ease. As far as he knew her, and it wasn’t much, she seemed without flaws. However, based on his experience, he knew it could not be possible and he feared the day he would discover her darkest side. For now, though, he decided to join them and hope that their contagious laughs would heal his restless soul. Enjoying some peace after years of battles and death was a gift, he was aware of it, but he would never stop being a warrior and he missed the clanking of swords and the stench of blood, sweat and fear. He missed the shivers of excitement running down his spine on the battlefield, and the surreal, still silence that followed a bloodshed. Yet, he was torn between the past he knew, living day by day without the certainty of a tomorrow, and this new routine of enjoy sweet talks and long walks with Aoife. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knew that he did not care for the fresh air, nor for the starry night, he just cared for the lady standing next to him under that dark sky. For now, however, he did not have to choose, and he grabbed three cups and joined his friends. “Why are we laughing?” he asked, dropping heavily next to Aoife, who shot him a bright smile. “Just threating Osferth, here.” she answered cheerfully, accepting the ale he was offering. “Oh, I do like this game.” “No you do not!” Osferth huffed, sipping his ale “Just let me be, I’m still recovering.” Finan had a sharp reply on the tip of his tongue but he was interrupted by hooves drumming outside; with the heart beating in his throat he jumped up, running to the window. “What is it?” Osferth asked. “You mean, who is it” Finan smiled, looking outside “Osferth.” He then called urgently, in his tone a happiness and thrill Aoife had never heard. He was not quick enough to reach the door and it opened from the outside, bringing in the room cold wind and smell of horses. And then here he was, wrapped in furs and covered in snow, his sword standing proudly against his back, the widest, proudest smile on his gorgeous face. Uthred of Bebbanburg was back. Chapter Six.

[waywardwrestlewritingwaif]

The Guardian’s Oath, Part Two

Here’s the second part in the series! You can read the first part here (and you probably should, since it won’t make any sense otherwise and because there are some plot points in there that will come up again later). 

Pairing: Feargal Devitt/ Finn Balor x OFC

Word count: 2,978

Content advisory: Nothing for this part, however there is adult content to come in later sections, so if you’re underage or prefer to avoid sexual material, you might as well spare yourself the time and effort of reading these early sections.

I rose early the next morning, my body aching from fruitless attempts to get comfortable enough to do more than doze off for a few minutes. The children were still in bed but Kate was already hard at work in the kitchen. Seeing my face, she quickly prepared me a cup of coffee. 

“Are you having a time of it trying to sleep, dear?” she inquired.  

I gave a wan little smile. “It just feels quite different than what I’m used to. I’ll get used to it soon enough.”

She fried some toast in the skillet with bacon fat and served me, Telling me a little of her life and of Bray as we sat in the kitchen together. I learned that the reason people referred to both “the town” and “the village” was to differentiate the newer and more prosperous area- the town- from the older settlement that had been home to the tenant serfs dating back to when the area had been part of a large estate. Kate had lived her whole life in the town, while Susan, who I had yet to meet, was from the village. The way she put it, it felt like the difference between the two parts of Bray marked everything, down to two women who both made their living as servants. 

Susan arrived at six-thirty. She was younger than either Kate or I, although taller by some measure than either of us. She gave a friendly greeting and her pleasant demeanor lasted until she began to sort through the basket of clothing to be washed. 

“Not again,” she grumbled. “They’ve gone out in the rain and just look at the state of these stockings! I’ll never get the grass stains out!”

“Mind your tongue, Sue,” Kate cautions her in a kindly enough tone. “They’re children. Even the best ones can’t help but get into some mischief.”

As she turned to say more to the girl, I saw her expression change.

“Miss Miles, did you not have any of your own clothing to be washed?”

“I didn’t want to trouble anyone. I can wash them myself. I’m afraid that there’s sand and salt on them and I didn’t want to make any more work for…”

Susan gave an exasperated sigh. 

“You’ll have your hands more than full with the children, ma’am. Susan, go collect Miss Miles’ clothing from the garrett and add that to the washing.

Susan made a show of balancing the already full basket on her hip and her footfalls were heavy as she proceeded to mount the stairs to the attic. 

“I should have gone to fetch them myself.”

“Don’t let her moods get to you,” Kate answered. “She’s a good girl but she’s got a lazy streak. If you give in to her, you’ll end up doing all her work as well as your own.”

Eager to change the subject, I decided to tell her of my discussion with the children the night before. 

“The children were regaling me with other stories of Bray before I could get them to sleep last night. Stories of all the fairies and monsters you have here.”

“Oh yes,” she sighed, “they do love their stories. A bit too much if you ask me, although I’m partly to blame because I’ve told them enough myself.”

“They recited a dark little rhyme for me about something named Finn Balor that can’t have helped me sleep any.”

Kate pursed her lips as Susan flounced back through the kitchen and out the back door, my clothes piled on top of the others. 

“They’ve heard that from her,” she muttered with a sharp glance back towards where Susan had exited. “I’ll tell them some stories my grandmother used to tell me but she goes telling them all manner of ghoulish things and getting them all excited over it. They’d no business bringing it up to you.”

“Oh it was just one of the things they wanted to share, like the ghost in the cemetery or the Bog Queen. We have a version of her where I come from too. I believe Balor must be unique to this place, or to the coast. Is it a common story?”

“Common enough, certainly. It’s the sort of thing parents tell their children or young women to frighten them. But Master William and Miss Sophia seem to delight in that sort of thing.”

“Well I hope that I can find some healthier outlets for their imagination.”

Kate collected the mugs and my plate and took them to the sink.

“I suppose I should go and wake the children so that we can get their lessons started.”

As I rose, I saw Kate staring at me. Her face was tilted and filled with concern and her fists closed tightly on her apron. 

“Their father, the Reverend, is as good, as gentle and as pure a man as God ever made,” she began haltingly. “I liked to think that I come from good folk but he is truly unmatched in his character.”

I started to agree with her but she spoke again, her tone darkening a little. 

“The children, though, have a little too much of their mother in them. She was… she was a wild animal. I know I’ve no business speaking of my former mistress this way but you’ll hear it from the townspeople asif you don’t hear it from me. He brought her back from a mission to the Brittany coast and she was peculiar at the best of times. I’ll not burden you with any stories but I can tell you that no other man would have indulged her the way Reverend Devitt did. He treated her well throughout her life and mourned her passing with his whole heart.

“I would never say that the children are bad. They are smart and they can be as gentle as angels. But they do have her blood in them and it makes them prone to a certain amount of… mischief and trickery. And I beg your pardon for speaking so far beyond my station but I know that the other governesses have struggled to take them in hand.”

I shook my head to indicate that I had no problem with her speaking in this way. “How many other governesses have there been?”

“You’re the fourth ma’am.”

“The fourth? How long ago was it that their mother passed?”

“She died when Miss Sohpia was five and her brother four.”

My jaw slacked a little. “There have been four governesses in four years?”

“They are good children but they are always easy to manage. I told you when you first arrived that I felt right away that you could be at home here. I believe I can see a spark in you that the others lacked and I would hate to see your chance to flourish thwarted when I could have offered you a warning. Treat the children with a sense of caution and keep in mind that they are prone to tricks and mischief, more so than they should be. Don’t be afraid to assert yourself.”

I nodded and thanked her before ascending the stairs to rouse my young charges. 

Over the next days, as I settled into the best pace for their lessons, I could see the truth in Kate’s words: much as they had on that first night I had read to them alone, the two of them had little routines designed to lead me where they wanted to get me. They were innocent enough but it made me wonder how far they could push their advantage. It also made me wonder about their mother and what strangeness they might have inherited from her. 

They were fast learners, and the greatest challenge was keeping them from growing bored. It was when they were bored that their tendency to misbehave presented itself. Both of them loved hiding things the other needed and making them work clues to find it. Both loved seeing how far they could push a rule imposed on them without actually breaking it. I had to admit that even their bad behavior was interesting because there was so much thought put into it. After a couple of months, I started to come up with puzzles and games of my own to help them remember and focus on what we were learning. I knew that this would have been frowned on by any school and by most other employers. I gambled that Reverend Devitt would be unlikely to question any method that saw his children happy to be learning. 

The times the Reverend was at home were brief but I treasured all of them. Those times were dominated by the church service on Sunday mornings over which he presided. He went early and we would follow afterward, taking our places near the front, the children and me, as if we were all a family. I loved that hour of the week when I sat looking up at him, flanked by his angelic-looking children. Even more, though, I loved that he almost always invited me to join them for dinner, as if I were an equal. His attention was focused on his son and daughter, of course, but I was never left out and as he saw how much and how quickly they were learning, his warmth toward me grew greater than ever. 

Once when he was back for more than just the day, we packed a picnic lunch and made our way to a rugged area along the water, just past the crescent beach where I had first seen the ocean. I tried to preoccupy myself with the children but it was the height of summer and they only wanted to run around, leaving me for an extended period alone with my employer. 

“Please be careful,” I pleaded with William as he deposited a couple of new shells for his collection onto the blanket. “The path down to the beach is steep and rocky here. You could fall and hurt yourself.”

William was off again without another word. I was about to call to him but the Reverend waved his hand to indicate I shouldn’t bother. 

“Let him work off his energy,” he sighed. “The tide’s out, so if he falls making his way down the hill, maybe the scrapes will teach him the lesson he needs.”

“I just worry that he could-”

“Helen,” he insisted, “they’re children. And you worry too much.”

“I’m sorry, Reverend,” I murmured. “I just don’t want to see any kind of harm befall them, no matter how small.”

“It’s Feargal,” he said softly, leaning back on his arms and regarding me through his long lashes. “I prefer you to call you Helen and I would prefer  you to call me Feargal.”

“Of course, sir.”

He laughed and rolled onto his side to face me. “I owe you a debt of gratitude, Helen,” he told me. “You’ve been a marvel with the children. I’ve always known they were smart but they’ve never learned as fast or as well as they have with you. Most times when I’ve come home, they’ve found something to grouse about with their governesses, but with you, it’s quite the opposite. They adore you. And Kate loves you, by the way. She always makes a point of telling me what a humble, kind woman you are.”

“I am greatly flattered,” I answered, desperately wanting him to say he had similar feelings for me. “I can’t imagine that anyone could be unhappy working in your home and with your children.”

“I assure you, it’s possible,” he said wistfully. 

I thought he might say more but William and Sophia rushed up, dropping handfuls of seaweed on the blanket. Some bits were dry, but most was sodden and stunk. I tried to hide my distaste for the scent but William and his father spotted it right away and teased me a little. We all laughed and I told myself that I would adjust to things such as these strange plants over time. 

“Look at this one!” William exclaimed, scrabbling up next to me and brandishing a new specimen. “Look at these!”

The weed he held was unlike the others he’d brought. It was still soaked but it was built like a vine and it was covered in blister-like growths. I found this one even nastier than the others and my face showed it, even though I tried to contain my dislike. 

“Watch!” William ordered. 

He pressed down hard on one of the blisters and it popped, the viscous contents spraying out and hitting my face. I made a sound, muffled slightly because I didn’t want to open my mouth in case some of the weed guts fell into it. 

Sophia laughed delightedly but the Reverend upbraided his son. 

“That was terrible behavior. I think it’s time I took a switch to the back of you again.”

William looked terrified and I heard Sophia give a little gasp. 

“No, please, sir. It’s just a plant. I overreacted.”

“You’re too kind, Miss Miles. But if I catch any more behavior like that, I can assure you that a hiding will follow.”

There was a moment of silence, after which William tossed his seaweed samples off to the side and wound his arms around my waist. I let my arm rest on his shoulder, unsure of the appropriate amount of affection to show in my position. He clung tighter and I rubbed circles on his shoulder, trying to quell the nervous tension I felt in his arms. 

During the summer, I often delayed going to bed. The garrett was pleasant enough but it was hot even if I opened the window. I was much happier to retire to the drawing room once the children were in bed, where I could write in my journal or read a little. I had finally settled in enough that I was able to sleep a little but the heat robbed me of that. I tried to fight through the fatigue and nerves but sometimes it overwhelmed me. 

One such night, Kate could see that I was in such an overtired state that she insisted on putting the children to bed herself, so that I could rest in the drawing room in peace for a little. It was not quite dark, although the sun had gone. I could see the last streaks of light trailing towards the west, the last traces of a glorious summer day. 

Looking out the window, I saw a dark figure next to the gate. My first thought was that it was an itinerant laborer from the village looking for any work he could find. It wasn't unusual for them to stop at the cottage, but none had ever passed so late. My only other thought was that he was a gypsy hawking door to door. I'd seen a few near the town. I'd never seen one alone, or in this area, but I knew very little of their ways.

I watched the man for a few minutes and realized that he was making no move towards or away from the house. He stayed still and silent. If Mr. Jones had been there, I would have dispatched him to deal with the situation but the gardener had gone home for the night. I didn't want to confront a strange man on my own but I felt a sense of danger coming from him. I had been charged with caring for the two children and that meant protecting them.

I stepped outside and waved my hand to get his attention. 

"You there! What do you want?" 

He showed no sign that he'd seen or heard me and so I walked a few steps on the path towards him. In the distance, I could hear the waves crashing and the branches of the trees clattered overhead, but the wind seemed light in the yard, so there was no chance the man did not hear me when I called to him again. Nevertheless, he paid no attention and I was forced to approach closer still.

As I did, I observed that he was striking at the gate post with his hand. It took me a moment to see that he was holding a rock and that he was actually marking the post with a few scratchy lines. 

"What do you think you're doing?" I demanded, stopping just out of arm's reach. "Move on and don't let me catch you hanging around this place again."

It was difficult for me to see much of his face, for he wore a brimmed hat that kept most of it in shadow. He had on layers of clothing, completely inappropriate to the heat, that appeared old and dirty. I thought his face remarkably dark but when I looked at his hand, still grasping the rock he'd been using to mark our gate post, it seemed like there was dirt clinging to his skin as well.

"I told you to be off," I snapped.

For the first time, he reacted to me, a sneer crossing his lips. His eyes flickered in my direction, shaded by his hat, and some ugly, guttural sound came from his throat. I could smell a mix of salt and leather and smoke hovering like a pungent blanket around him. 

The sneer spread and I could see a quick flash of teeth before he tightened his grip on the rock and raised his hand.

I gave a little cry and took a quick step back, believing he was about to hurl it at me. However, he simply lowered the hand and placed the rock on the post before disappearing in total silence. I went over and pushed the rock away, tossing it to the far side of the street. There were three parallel lines roughly scratched and nothing else.

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Of Dust and Ashes (Chapter 24)

Welcome! Happy Friday! Kit does in fact Live! Who knew, right? I got the cold of death this week and I swear to GOD I’ve been asleep more than awake. But those who have been keeping up with the family bullshit that has knocked this to biweekly updates and killed my will to write- Cora’s getting a 504 plan so she’s promised the same accommodations she’s getting now from the teacher in the following years. WooHoo! Still some kinks to work out but I *hope* to be writing enough to get this back to weekly updates by the end of March. 

Clint x ofc, Series rating: M, Series warnings: Pretty much every Trigger warning that can exist is in this series at some point.

Masterlist 

Feed me coffee

Chapter warnings: None

Chapter 24: Going Up

The cold nipped at her cheeks and nose. The heavy coat she wore had belonged to Laura and was two sizes too big, at least. Clint had told her Laura had gotten it while she was pregnant with one of the kids. It smelled like the house and nothing more, a fact for which Deanna was beyond thankful for.  

A bitter cold snap had rolled through the area and while Clint had no trouble at all keeping the farmhouse, greenhouse shed and chicken coop warm enough, it did put a damper on their plans. She had made it clear to Clint on the fourth day that she wasn’t prepared to be a mother again. They needed to at least attempt to retrieve Elsa’s mother.  

Because of her unwillingness to wait out the cold spell, Clint made damn sure she wouldn’t suffer from exposure. Strapped to her back, under the heavy coat was Elsa. Her body heat combined with the protection of the coat assured them that the small body would be warm enough.  

Clint had driven them a good ways, circling the city in the distance. He assured her that the paths they were taking would keep them out of sight of any scouts. In truth, he hadn't expected them to have any scouts but it was better to be safe than sorry. Finally, when he had picked a way in, he parked the truck off the road and wedged it under a large pine. The sagging branches helped hide it but there wasn’t much that could be done about the tracks themselves. Trust trotted along, keeping pace at their heels, unconcerned with the cold.  

It was early in the morning, the sun had only began to rise as they started walking. They hiked through the snow for what felt like a lifetime. Clint lead the way and she fallowed in a half asleep daze. There was no sign of another person as far as she could see.

The city loomed in the distance, growing larger with each passing hour. They walked by moonlight alone. Clint didn’t want to use a flashlight and while she understood, Dee didn’t exactly have her feet under her. She wasn’t used to traversing more than her home in the dark. Snow and ice crunched under their feet as Clint guided them along animal trails.

When he reached out and squeezed her glove covered hand with his own, it reassured her. He didn’t expect her to know everything or to be battle ready. He was kind and patient with her even as he urged her forward at a grueling pace.

They walked toward a large building, the largest on the outskirts of the city. She knew what was in store for her, but Dee wasn’t even remotely excited about it.  

The glass windows were broken in on the ground floor and many on the second had been shattered as well. They carefully made their way inside. Clint carried the dog over the sea of broken glass, whispering to himself about having to find or make booties for the pooch to protect his feet in the future. Such care was enduring to Dee. He took such good care of them. She couldn't imagine a life in this new world without him.

“How far up are we going?” Deanna asked. Clint pulled open the door to the stairwell, finally clicking on his flashlight.  

“All the way. I want on the roof.”

She watched as he worked. It was fascinating, the things he looked for to assure their safety. He checked things she didn’t even think of. like dust on the ground or types of trash. As he worked, he whispered a play by play of what he was looking for. He taught her with the hopes that if she ever had to do this alone, she could.  

The flashlight illuminated the landing where undisturbed dust had settled. He shone it under the stairs, checking that no one was hiding out before shining the light up the stairs. Only when he was sure that everything he could see had been untouched for a while, did he start them up the stairs.  

“Never treat a stairwell as the only way up or down.” He whispered as they started on the stairwell leading up to the third floor. “Most of the time there is at least one more stairwell at the other side of the building. If it’s in a corner- you can almost count on there being three more- one in each corner.”

She’d never thought about that. There were so many things she had never even thought of. The thought plagued her. Even if she hadn’t hurt her ankle that day, how long would she have really survived? Would she have embraced a group like this, learned to look the other way to protect herself? Would she have been taken captive by one? Would she have tried to fight back only to end up dead on the side of the road?

How many people were killed by groups like this? She knew what was left of the Avengers team, fractured as they were, were working to restore something resembling order to the east coast. Clint had told her how their hold had spread farther and farther west but until proper order was restored, this was life for who knows how many people.

It was hard not to think about the state of things when all she had to do was climb stair after stair. Her legs burned. She wasn’t in any shape for this, though she expected to be in much more pain than she was in. Her body had become stronger over the last four months and she largely hadn’t noticed it.  

“Has there been any word for New York?” She whiskered, growing tired of listening only to the sound of their boot falls and her racing thoughts. As they reached the fifth floor, they began to feel safer in their solitude. No one was around.  

No one stirred, not even a mouse.

“They’ve located the VP a while ago. He’s something resembling stable now.”

“Stable?”

Clint shrugged. “The decimation- it was hard on everyone. He lost a lot of his friends, parts of his family. For a while it wasn’t looking like he could lead the country.”

“I guess he’s President now?”

“Yep. Rhodes is pretty much in charge of the air force for now. Not sure if he’ll stay in that position as they fill the ranks. Probably, anyway. They’ve put a call on the AM radio stations for any and all military personnel to make their way east. It’s hard to say how many will show up. I guess it’s been a small trickle.”

“That’s good though, right?”  

“Yeah.” Silence spanned for a few moments, broken only by the sound of their boots. “I’m not going though. I told them, I can’t. I won’t.”

“It’s good though, that things are getting figured out. Maybe soon people like King Jacob won’t be a problem anymore.”  

“People like King Jacob and his band of thugs will always be a problem. Always have and always will be.”

It felt like a lifetime before they reached the roof. They stopped, feeding the baby a few floors from the top. She was young enough that being settled close to Dee’s skin was enough to keep her quite. Little Elsa was staying warm and spent much of her time sleeping. When she was awake, Dee hiked her higher on her back and used the hood to shield the small head, allowing hr to look around some. The baby likely mostly had a view of hair, though. It was the thought that counted, right?

As Clint looked over the edge of the roof, Dee sat near the door and played with little Elsa. It was better to see to the child now, while she could than have the baby want attention or need a feeding while they were in a dangerous spot. There wasn’t much she could do to control the timing of a soiled diaper beyond pray that it didn’t make her cry when they needed her silent.  

“Let’s go.”  

Dee must have dozed off with the baby in her arms. Clint’s voice startled her awake. Golden morning sun shone out over them. It wasn’t by much but they didn’t leave in the ‘early morning’ like Clint had said. Just because the clock read ‘AM’ didn't make it ‘morning’ but she hadn’t argued about it. Still, half past two was ‘early morning’ in Clint’s book. It had to be something close to six or so, now.  

Just as everything that goes up must come down, they had to walk down the stairs- one flight at a time. They went faster down, having gravity on their side. Still, she never wanted to look at another stair again in her life. Ever. Clint was going to have to carry her up the stairs of the farmhouse if he wanted her to go back inside it.  

Assuming they both survived.  

She followed him, staying close on his heels as they moved through city streets. Clint didn’t tell her much about the path they took beyond that it was safe. Or rather, pretty safe but that was as safe as anything got when they were off his property. That had to be good enough.  

For a few hours, they trucked through snow as they worked their way deeper into the city using alley ways and working to remain hidden. The sun hung low in the sky still, providing long shadows for them to move through. Still, it was impossible to ignore the way her anxiety climbed right along with the sun.  

She could almost taste the relief when they slipped inside the building Clint had picked out. It was sweeter than any candy she had had. Still, Clint moved them into the building slowly. He thoroughly checked the ground floor, ensuring it was empty before leading them up the first flight of stairs.  

This building was taller than the prior, which was why Clint had picked it. Each flight of stairs was harder than the last to climb and after four flights, it became clear that she needed a break.  

Clint ordered her to wait in the stairwell, of the fifth flight as he checked the floor. She agreed willingly, causing him to worry. They worked little Elsa out of her jacket and made her a bottle of formula. It wouldn’t be warm like it should have been but the water was at body temperature at least, having been stored in an internal side pocket of her coat.  

Once they were settled, Clint started on checking the floor for any sign of use. Some windows were cracked but most were intact, keeping the bitter wind out. Fine dust covered the ground, far more dust than would be expected for how long the building had sat empty.  

He knew what that dust was. People who had been here and been lost. People he had failed. It was a toxic thought and he worked to push it away. Now wasn’t the time to think of the people that the heroes of the world had failed that summer.  

Right now, what mattered most was that he didn’t fail to protect Dee. What mattered was that he did everything within reason to protect Elsa and reunite her with her mother. What mattered was that those who were taking advantage of others were punished.  

He couldn’t find any sign of human life on the floor. Sure, rat activity seemed to be present but he expected that. Rats would be a problem in any city right now. Once he was satisfied that the floor was empty, he set to work barricading the other stairwell doors.  

They would rest. They needed to rest and eat but he would only allow them to do so once he was certain that there was no way to get on or off this floor without him knowing. Only when he was satisfied did he go back to Dee.  

Wordlessly, he ushered her out of the stairwell and into the floor. It was filled with cubicles and desks. The black screens of computers taunted her with the memory of what had been. Dust floated up around their feet as they walked. Clint lead the way to a small office, probably having belonged to the floor manager. The door was closed but the walls were lined with glass windows, giving it a view of the whole floor.  

Inside, there was very little dust. The dust in that office was light and lacked that oddly oily nature that the dust created out of people by the decimation had. When it happened, the room had been empty and the door closed. It was clean.

Dee sat on the floor and set baby Elsa down next to her. As she laid next to the baby, her back popped in places. It felt so good to be off her feet, to have the weight and strain off her legs. Trust laid down next to Elsa, keeping his side touching the small baby, providing her warmth.

Clint left the door to the office open as he sat on the floor next to them. The backpack he carried was large and heavy. It felt amazing to have the weight off his back. Soon, soon they would be in place and he wouldn’t have to keep carrying it for much longer.  

He planned to let them rest for the next hour or two. It wasn’t nearly as much rest as he knew Dee needed but it was as also far more than he wanted to give them. Opening the backpack, he set to work unpacking it. He set a foam bowl out and filled it with water for Trust. The dog had largely been eating mouth fulls of snow as they walked but was eager to get a proper drink anyway.  

On a paper plate, he dumped a can of wet dog food. That excited Trust. With the dog taken care of, he grabbed up the baby and gave her a change. She’d drank most of the bottle that Dee had given her and was now more than content to eat her toes for a while.  

“Is that safe?” Dee asked as he set out a small propane burner designed for camping and lit it.  

“Yes and no.” He answered, setting a small metal pot on and popping open one of their cans of stew and dumping it inside. “You normally use them outside, the fumes build up and are toxic. But the floor is open, the door is open and we won’t be allowing it to burn long enough to put us in danger. The exposure is worth having a hot meal.”

He was right, the meal did much more to help her recover her strength than she had expected. There was still the throbbing ache in her legs and back but she felt significantly less like death. The idea of walking up the rest of the stairs however was still something she had no interest in doing.  

After eating his share, Clint pulled himself to his feet and Dee audibly groaned. “Don’t worry Babe, you don’t have to get up yet.”

“Oh thank god.” Dramatics were on full force as she made a show of sighing and relaxing against the wall. Before, she’d never liked dramatics. She felt that they were pointless and a waste of time but somehow, with him, they felt natural and she often didn’t even realize she was doing it until later. “What are you doing?”

“Checking to see what we can see from here.”

“What if someone sees you?”

“We’re too high for most people to see us unless they are looking from another building.”

“And they could be.”

“But unlikely. This lot seems not inclined to climb stairs. No one’s been in this one or the last building. Seems safe enough to assume they likely are not high in the others.”

“Safe enough?” She mocked.

Clint rolled his eyes and made his way toward the windows. While he felt reasonably sure enough of his calculation that he wouldn’t be seen, he wasn’t going to dance naked in front of a window either. “There’s going to be a glare on the glass from the sun anyway. It’ll be hard for anyone to really look for long enough to notice movement.”

“If you say so.”

He did say so. Again and again he told himself that as he peeked down through the glass. Ever calm and sure of himself on the exterior, Dee would never guess that there was a steady river of anxiety running through him.  

He knew she was right. It was dangerous to approach the window. It put him in the  open. He could be spotted. He could be shot. But there was always a risk. He had to weigh that risk against the benefit of information. Right now, he needed information to keep them alive.  

He hadn’t told Dee, but he had caught sight of movement in some buildings as they had made their way to this building. There was only so much he could do to keep them in the shadows but there was a chance that King Jacob’s gang knew that there were outsiders in the town.  

If they were lucky, no one thought anything if a couple walking through the shadows. Should he have told Dee? His mind was at war over it. It wouldn’t do any good to stress her out, to raise her anxiety levels even higher, right? But there was a part of him that knew she couldn’t be prepared to defend herself if she didn’t know there was an additional threat.  

He shook his head and pushed the thoughts away. It was important to focus right now. The binoculars were wedged in his pocket and he had to work a bit to get them out. Even as he worked them free, he kept his eyes trained on the buildings across. There was no movement in them that he could see.  

With the binoculars, he was able to take a closer look. There were clear paths through the snow that gave way what roads were most trafficked. Other roads were untouched by human footprints and mainly filled with animal tracks. People moved down below.

They were dirty people. Some were clearly injured. Most were not dressed for the unusual cold. Small groups gathered around trashcan fires, warming fingers. There was a consistent lack of women and younger children.  

Everyone he could see looked tired, thin and ragged. They were not weathering the winter well. Turning his eyes toward the city center park, it was clear where King Jacob set himself up. There was a stage built and things hanging from rafters.  

Bodies. There were bodies swinging in the wind. One had to be no older than 14.  

King Jacob needed to die.  

~~~~~<3

Tag list: @winterisakiller, @usedtobegoodfriend96, @acoholic-muffin, @theoneanna, @alexakeyloveloki​, @toozmanykids​, @j-u-s-t-4​, @missaphrodite23​, @bambamwolf87​, @nonsensicalobsessions​, @tinchentitri​, @xoxabs88xox​, @queenoftheunderdark​, @carissime72​, @myoxisbroken​, @coyotesongwriting​, @wegingerangelica​, @faemapfae​, @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123​, @tnystrk-exe​

[the-glitter-acetylcholine]

Harry Potter characters that were criminally underused (in no particular order)

(MAJOR SPOILERS)

Luna Lovegood - literally only introduced like halfway through the fifth book, yet probably the most influential ravenclaw character. Her odd mannerisms and odder outlook would have made her a fabulous addition to the golden trio’s shenanigans, yet she only serves this purpose in one case

Mad-eye Moody - he’s “well-developed” in the fourth book, and we get a lot of content of him... only to discover it wasn’t him at all. Then, he briefly appears with the order and then dies. Great. What a wonderful use of a skilled fighter and mentor.

Remus Lupin - okay, so he does get the whole third book but then... he just fucks off? Ofc then he, too, returns to fight with the order, fall in love with a woman half his age, have a baby with her, and then die immediately thereafter. He’s just such a cool guy with so much to offer to Harry and to readers (when it comes to insight on discrimination in the wizarding community) and he just doesn’t get a chance to do nearly enough. What a wasted opportunity.

Pravati and Padma Patil - yeah, these are two different characters, but we know so little about them that I can’t even discuss them individually. They’re twins in different houses! How cool! There’s so much to be explored there, especially considering the competitive atmosphere among houses that Harry perceives. Not to mention the fact that they inexplicably agreed to go to the Yule Ball with Harry and Ron respectively despite a) apparently not knowing them very well and b) not even being all that desperate to hang out with them at the ball (I think Padma asks Ron to dance a few times and then gives up) (side note: this made me extremely mad when I was little, because I had I major crush on Padma). What compelled them to do that? What are they like? What are the differences between them that caused them to be sorted into different houses? Gah, they could have been so interesting!

Cho Chang - this is one that makes me genuinely a little mad (same goes for #6). She’s just so two dimensional, and that’s really not fair. She’s a decoration on Harry’s arm for what? A year or two? And she then cries, dates Diggory, and then she cries again (I think she dates Diggory first but you get the point). HER PURPOSE IS NOT JUST TO CRY OVER GUYS. She’s a ravenclaw. Let’s hear about that. Where do her interests lie? Is she an academic? Is she an artist? What kind of intelligence does she have, what kind of knowledge does she seek? What made her like Harry to begin with? Did Harry ever like her for more than her “sleek black hair” (not a direct quote, but I’m sure it’s described as something to that effect)? I want to knowwwww

Lavender Brown - aka... Ron’s brief, annoying girlfriend? The precursor to Romione? I mean, was this girl even in the D.A.? Maybe she was, but I don’t remember, and that’s the problem. She’s a Gryffindor. She’s brave, she’s headstrong, she’s proud! But she’s only ever portrayed as overbearing and clingy which SURE, may be some of her traits, because she’s allowed to have flaws, but that’s not all she is. I want to see her relationship with Pravati and Hermione, who she roomed with for six years (beyond her annoying Hermione when she dated Ron). But nope! I guess she’s just another accessory!

Nymphadora Tonks - i.e. Tonks. She’s funny and brave and powerful, but we barely get to see her in action (yes, before you ask, i had a crush on her, too). She’s interesting, so interesting, because her emotions are often expressed through her appearance, and she undergoes like two full personality shifts throughout the books (it’s worth noting that she’s also introduced pretty late in the series, book five, i think). She’s depressed for a while, then she falls in love, gets married, and has a son (and then dies), and, while it seems like this is a lot of usage (which it is), I can’t help but wish we had seen a little more of it all, specifically of her falling in love and of her married life, of her motherhood, before she died.

Xenophilius Lovegood - literallly (i would argue) one of the most interesting characters in the series, despite the fact that (I think) he is only featured heavily in one scene. I would definitely call him a more complex character than Snape. In his one scene, Xenophilius offers the golden trio one of their most important lessons through the Tale of the Three Brothers, the story which ultimately wins them the war against Voldemort. And yet, it’s a trap. He’s stalling, keeping them around so that Voldy’s goons can come pick them up and presumably kill them, or at least imprison them until Voldy comes ‘round again. But, and here’s the important part, he does it to save his beloved daughter. His daughter, who is the only family he has left, after his incredible scientist-witch of a wife died doing what she loved. The Lovegood’s are a family of inherently good people, yet Xenophilius sides with the very people who took his daughter in a weak effort to get her safely back. His plan won’t work, they won’t return Luna. They DON’T return her, but Xenophilius is fundamentally weak, made weak out of his love, and his fear of losing the last person in the world he has to care about, to protect, to love. He’s just SO DAMN INTERESTING ughhhhh give me more Xenophilius pleaseeeee

Kingsley Shacklebolt - he’s??? so cool??? Literally he’s just awesome, but we barely see him. He acts as a spy, essentially, when the ministry gets taken over by the death eaters, and helps the order actually get shit done, but he’s just so underused. Idk, I don’t have much to say except that he’s awesome and I want more Shacklebolt content

Cedric Diggory - he’s actually talked about a fair amount, so I don’t think I need to say much, except that he is literally the nicest guy ever, and, despite Harry actively hating him for like a whole year, he helps him in the Triwizard Tournament and represents Hufflepuff beautifully as being more than just the “miscellaneous house”. But then of course he’s killed before he and Harry can become friends, and before readers get a chance to understand anything about his social status (is he the asshole popular guy or sweet quite guy???) or motivations. Of course.

Percy Weasley - aka MY FAVORITE WEASLEY KID. R*wling did my boy so dirty. He’s cool because he’s kind of a stuck up academic asshole stereotype, or at least Harry perceives him as such, and then he changes slightly over the years as he and Harry both grow and mature and then it all culminates in his great moment of emotion and humanity! Fred’s death is, without much contest I think, the most devastating death in the whole series (Dobby could admittedly give him a run for his money, though), in part because he’s just so damn sweet and funny and innocent, and in part because right before it we FINALLY get to see Percy smile. He smiles at a dumb joke Fred makes, and then Fred DIES (a well placed death, I’ll admit begrudgingly), and just the juxtaposition of the moment... *chef’s kiss*. And then we never really check back in on Percy, and we don’t really get enough closure on that moment. :/

Colin and Dennis Creevy - again, two characters stuffed together, this time because we actually know a fair amount about them and... they’re kind of the same character. Colin is obsessed with Harry, and so is Dennis. That’s about it. I just WISH we got a little more on these kids, on why they felt so drawn to him as this apparently untouchable hero among them. Were they abused? Orphaned? Abandoned? Did they have some sort of trauma in their lives that made them so attached to the idea of a savoir? Or did they simply regard Harry as most little boys might, as a cool sort of action figure character? The world may never know :(((

Susan Bones - God, I wish I had more to say about her. She’s sweet, she a hufflepuff, I think she helps Ron at one point in Herbology. Her aunt dies I think. Is she the one who had the rabbit at one point? Idk, she’s just one of those characters who’s so far in the background that she almost stands out, and I kinda just wanna know more.

Fawkes - yeah, I know he’s a bird or whatever, but he’s fucking cool, and we get a Fawkes-ex-machina in the second book and then he’s essentially inconsequential for like... forever. I want to know how he and dumbledore bonded, why his feathers in those two specific wands were so attracted to Harry and Tommy boi specifically, other than symbolism uwu. Does Fawkes have a moral compass, or does he simply follow Dumbledore’s orders? Could his loyalty potentially be changed?

Narcissa Malfoy - please, for the love of god, give the Malfoy’s a chance. At least Draco and Narcissa. Narcissa is essentially the flip side of Xenophilius’s coin. Her side of the family is shrouded in dark magic, but her priority is keeping her dear son safe. I just want to know her and her inner struggle more intimately, because she’s such a contradiction, she’s a death eater who loves and protects, a dark magic user who wants to create something warm and beautiful for her family. She’s scared for a husband, a top death eater, one of Voldemort’s personal faves, and scared for her son, who she knows is good at heart but who struggles through the first steps of death eater initiation out of a sense of duty, a duty to her and his father. She’s the intimate mother figure, yet she’s an antagonist, fundamentally speaking. Fascinating.

These are just some I thought of off the top of my head, I’m sure there are literally hundreds more, from the two guys from the Knightbus to Bathilda Bagshot to Nagini the legend (also wtf happened to her in the Cursed Child?? Nvm, I can’t even get into that shithole right now), and I have to admit that I still love Harry Potter, for its characters and it’s incredible world building, though R*wling is a massive piece of terf-y shit.

It’s important to note that I understand the purpose of flat characters, I understand the purpose of background characters, of undeveloped characters. What I’m pointing out here is that there was a lot of potential in these characters that was largely squandered because R*wling focused her energy on attempting to redeem Snape without a redemption arch, attempting to redeem Dumbledore with an inadequate one, and refusing to properly redeem Draco despite his well-developed arch, for some fucking reason. If you can’t tell, I’m salty, but I’m only salty because I care. Ily, have a good day!!

[idk-my-aesthetic]

isle kingdom au

so i’ve had this idea for an AU for a little while, but i don’t wanna actually write anything for it until i’m done w/ my current descendants wips, but i also wanna talk about it lol so ig im making a post? please send me asks about it i wanna talk about it.... anyway

**tw for child abuse and semi-graphic descriptions of violence.

basically the premise of the au is that even though he tried to get it passed at first, ben never went through with pulling the vks off the isle. he kept meaning too, but it just kept being pushed to the back of his list of priorities bc he was so busy w/ being king and never happened 

so bc of this, the core 4 stayed on the isle and never got off it. if you’ve read the stuff in my keep them close series u probably have a better idea of my hc of the isle, but the basics of it are that 1) most of the parents are really bad and abusive + the conditions are disgusting 2) none of the kids are really evil and 3) the vks are all kinda frenimes/rivals and will work together to keep eachother alive even if they act like they hate eachother or will even hurt eachother

so, in the ‘canon’ timeline before going to auradon the core 4 are a gang and slowly gaining power. they’re already the top of the vk gangs and are like gaining on some of the adult ones.

bc they never go to auradon, they just kinda keep doing what they already are and gain more and more power. but, as they gain power their parents start becoming afraid of them and acting like more abusive in attempts to keep the core 4 under their control 

ok bare w/ me for this next bit bc it’s gonna sound real ooc for like a sec then make sense

so, as they’re gaining power and their parents are haveing more and more trouble controlling them their parents are becoming more and more violent.

im not sure on the order yet, but basically cruella, jafar, eq, and malifacent all do something like really really bad to their respective kid, so one of the other core 4 kills them bc like. yeah. 

i have some vauge ideas of what each of them could have done and i don’t really know if i want to say them or even use them tbh bc they’re like.... bad, like real bad. which they kinda have to be, you know? bc like.... none of the core 4 would turn to killing if they didn’t have a real good reason, and their parents continuing the abuse that they always have woulden’t be enough, so the parents would have to do something really really bad for one of the others to justify killing them 

its important to mention that none of them kill their own parent. it’s always one of the other 4, im not sure who kills who just yet, but none of them kill their own parent. They’re saved from their parents by each other and they never really have any confrontation with their parents (which will change l8r 👀👀, let me explain)

Even tho they didn’t kill their own parents, everyone kinda assumed they did in order to take their places/gain power. A handful of their friends know the real story, but it’s mostly kept under wraps and it’s like general “knowledge” that they killed their parents for power. They’re not really hiding it or anything, I mean they did still each kill one of the 4 most powerful villains so it’s not like anyone is gonna be less afraid if they knew the truth. ppl just make assumptions and never really question them and they just let ppl think what they do

So bc their parents are dead and they let everyone assume they killed their own parent they very easily climb up the ranks and end up in charge of the isle bc atp they’re seen as the most ruthless/evil/powerful

So now that they’re in charge of the isle they start like..... actually making it a livable place. Ofc at first they try to make a version of Carlos’s machine to break the barrier, but they can’t get it to work so he just modifys it to steal magic from the barrair for them to use. (Another idea stolen from my keep them close series but like I like the idea lol)

And when I say they make it a livable place I mean they start doing stuff like building water purifiers, making like safe houses, establishing some kind of working economy, taking control of the barge drop offs and how everything is distributed, fixing broken electricity, etc etc

A lot of what they do is based off of Carlos’s machines and designs, which like obvi other ppl are helping him gather materials and for and build, since he has power bc he’s like one of the ppl in charge. And he like teaches other ppl how to do what he does and fix anything that goes wrong

Evie kinda puts herself in charge of setting up like medical centers + homes for kids and stuff. Also some kinda way to grow food. B4 they’re in charge nothing can really grow but they use the magic they steal from the barrier to make stuff grow. And evie can use it to make like lots of healing items and such

Jay ends up mostly in charge of like collecting and distribution of their recourses. At first like the barge is kinda a hugeeee problem to deal with bc ppl are fighting over the like moldy food and destroyed clothes and stuff. But eventually they get it organized and have stuff sent to the respective place it should, like clothes and scrap fabric are sent to a place that repairs and sells them, parts and electronics are sent to Carlos or his helpers, etc

Other minor vks like Celia, dizzy, the sea three, Diego, etc are all in this two but this is already really long so just know they’re like helping and like pretty high ranking/highly regarded. Send me an ask with questions please

Mal is kinda regarded as the ultimate leader/queen of the isle ig even though the other 3 have basically the same amount of power. Mostly bc her job ends up being keeping the adults who dislike them inline and keeping their power as heads of the isle

Most ppl are just kinda chill w/ them being in charge, especially a lot of the ppl who were banished for minor crimes. A few of the adult villains try to fight them and end up dead lol, and anyone caught doing especially bad things, like r*pe, hurting someone they shouldn’t have, being a child abuser, etc will end up killed by mal or one of the others. They don’t kill u for like every crime obviously only the like inexcusable ones. Stuff like stealing or mental illness or w/e they basically just help you work through

They’re aren’t any like real laws ig but they deal with issues as they go and give harsh punishments if needed. It serves to keep themselves seen as strong/evil/powerful despite all the good they do and helps keep others too afraid to challenge them. Like frollo isn’t going to challenge them if Ursula tried the same thing and got killed. (The fact that she abused uma and her siblings obviously had nothing to do with that,,,,,,,,,,,)

So yeah! They basically turned the isle into a inhabitable place in the years that they spent as its leaders, and it functions as its own kinda kingdom despite its harsh and confusing laws/rules

But we ain’t done yet, lol

Basically everything I’ve just explained is.... mostly backstory? Kinda? It’s the type of thing where you slowly find out about all this stuff while they actual story goes on, but I figured it’d be less confusing to explain it first :3

So the Actual story starts a few years after when Ben originally was supposed to take the vks off the isle. He, all the other princess/princes he want to school with, the core 4, the sea 3, etc are all in their mid to early 20s.

Auradon has basically no clue what’s the deal w/ the isle. They’re only interaction w/ them is through the like goblins that bring over the trash barges, but those guys are chill and basically don’t tell the aks anything lol.

So Ben is ruling his kingdom, and the core 4 are ruling their own, both sides are doing pretty well and ignoring each other, but then! All of a sudden there’s these sudden deaths/fires/some kinda terrorist attack on the outskirts of the kingdom.

I haven’t thought through this part too much, but basically he knows that they’re is some kinda threat, but he doesn’t know excatly what it is. All he does know is that the villain that is attacking is demanding to speak to the children of malifecent, jafar, cruella devil, and the evil queen.

He basically rounds up the heroes of those respective stories bc they’re all being threatened in some way or another. The mystery villain continues to do more damage and seems basically impossible to beat, and has given them a time limit b4 they’ll go and start destroying more

They discuss their options and decide their best plan is to go to the isle and convince them core 4 to help, bringing along the heroes and some of the main aks w/ them

Obviously it doesn’t go well bc they show up and mal basically has them arrested lmao

Again I have more in-depth ideas for this part but this post is already wayyyy to long so I’m trying to hurry and finish up

The talk, vks meet their respective heroes, everything is from ak/hero POV so as they explore the isle and talk to the core 4 and other vks they slowly find out about all ^^^ that stuff up there

The core 4 are eventually agree, and they go to face the villains only to find out its their parents who have been resurrected!!!! Fuck!!!!

Idk how or why just yet lmao but I will soon

Parents are obvi pissed, core 4 face their own parents and finally get like some kinda closer or smthn idk I feel like y’all get the gist

in the end auradon agknolages the isle as its own kingdom and the core 4 as its leaders and open trade/remove the barrier so the isle can continue to grow bc it’s been struggling due to lack of recourses

And that’s like the basic outline of my au! I wanna write it eventually but tbh I’m expecting eventually to be like 3 years from now bc of how much other stuff I have so for rn I’m just gonna blog about it. Obviously there’s a lot of other stuff/plots/emotional arcs etc I didn’t talk about bc like This Post Is So Long I’m So Sorry, So please please please send me asks/questions/comments/even your own ideas!!! Please. Everything about this will be tagged with “isle kingdom au” :3

[dalisaid]

✎ . ♟

          nobody :           no one :           literally no one at all :

          me :  so sam is / can be lowkey self-absorbed at times  &  i wanna talk about why because it fascinates  &  saddens me greatly  :D

          now,  when i say  ❛  self-absorbed  ❜,  i mean it in the literal sense of the word  a.k.a.  ~absorbed~ in himself,  within his inner landscape,  how he relates to the world  &  how it relates to him,  etc.  when things happen ( as they do lol ),  he seems to instinctively think about it in terms of himself  &  what it means for him,  in relation to him specifically.  of course,  as a kid,  this is a given ;  all kids are self-absorbed in a way ( more so than all of us inherently are anyway ),  it’s to be expected,  but sam especially  &  especially in his environment growing up,  his level of self-absorption  &  prioritization,  even,  makes complete sense.  his mental / emotional / physical well-being was disregarded at every turn to the point where at a very young age,  he had to prioritize it himself in order to just survive because couldn’t rely on his own parent to do it for him.  arguably,  how much he could trust even dean with this could only go so far with sam knowing that no matter how much dean loved  &  cared for  &  put his little brother first,  he still ultimately wanted ( as far as sam can tell anyway ) to live the life their dad was paving the way for,  still put himself (  &  therefore sam,  if he wanted to be a part of this family ) in the line of fire on the regular.  so to a very reasonable degree,  sam’s independence / personal ambition / ~absorption~ in himself  &  his own desires ( NEEDS ) is very apparent in flashbacks  &  season 1 especially.  in fact,  it was VERY necessary if one wants to live a safe  &  normal life away from monsters  &  the possibility of death around every turn,  as the average person usually does,  &  sam of course falls into this majority.

          sam also comes across as an introvert,  which entails a lot if introspection  &  self-inspection,  which can often be interpreted (  &  of course sometimes turn into,  depending on the person ) as a form of self-absorption on top of the reasons above.  BUT,  i wanna talk about the more deeply-rooted reason he can come across as self-absorbed,  a reason that would remain no matter if he could escape his toxic environment growing up or not,  a reason that stays with sam until later seasons,  but just expresses itself in different ways as he grows  &  matures  &  changes.

          as we see throughout the entire series,  sam believes deep down to the very core of his being that he is EVIL.  every period  &  shade of his life,  he believes this in some way,  shape,  degree,  or form,  always.  he believes his very existence constitutes pain  &  problems  &  obstacles in those around him,  in the very WORLD ITSELF at times ( literally ).  to him,  his existence is at best an inconvenience  &  at worst an active  &  essential component to the suffering of others.  even as a child,  it’s revealed he felt this sense of wrongness in him,  this impurity,  this weight,  that he was a burden,  a problem,  a stain unable to be washed from the world or from his family’s life.  throughout the years,  he learns this was for a reason ;  because this wrongness literally runs through his veins,  is a part of him he can’t just salt  &  burn away,  run from to live a normal life  &  pretend it doesn’t exist because it is always with him,  forever  —  because it IS him.  during season 1  &  2,  sam almost seems like he WANTS to be proven a monster in his doggedness to pull on azazel’s strings,  despite it also being something he’s obviously deeply upset by.  due to sensing this for years  &  witnessing a correlation throughout his life of trauma after trauma  &  trouble after trouble caused to his loved ones,  caused by his very proximity to them at times ( from his perspective ) ;  circumstantial evidence at best,  but this is confirmation bias at work,  as he’s sensed something evil in him since he was a kid,  &  even subconsciously,  he’s looking for explanations  &  new pieces to fit into this theoretical puzzle of his.  

          because of this  —  this confirmation bias,  this belief that he is INHERENTLY BAD for the people around him,  &  even the world as a whole,  that’s only reinforced by his coincidentally fucked up life that seems to follow him around like it’s tied to him instead of the other way around,  whenever something goes wrong in his life or even just close to his general presence,  he INSTINCTIVELY thinks he has something to do with it.  this,  of course,  is technically quite self-centered of him ;  to just assume these things correlate to him,  as if he’s the center of it all,  of this whole web of his  &  his loved ones’ reality,  but when   ❛  these things  ❜  a.k.a.  bad things,  are like 90% of his life,  as the winchesters lead very troubled lives filled with bad to the absolute brim,  it leads to a situation where sam attributes pretty much most of what goes on around them to himself.  

          hence,  self-absorbed.

          he genuinely believes he is the cause ( directly or indirectly ) of most if not all the bad things in his father’s,  brother’s,  even jess’s life,  &  generally,  any things that happen around him are bad things that happen around him,  &  therefore to the most important people in his life.  he is PARANOID of this from the start ;  the pilot itself,  as soon as the nightmares he’d been having actually come true  &  he gets his first concrete signs that his suspicions in childhood might actually have tangible merit.  he is constantly hyper-aware of the possibility  &  probability that his mom’s clearly similar death was just as much his fault as his girlfriend’s,  just as much connected to HIM.  &  if that’s the case,  the whole of his father’s life after,  his own  &  his brother’s,  all this fighting  &  running  &  hurting,  because of HIM.  it’s on his mind 24/7,  it’s his world at the time,  these possibilities  &  probabilities  &  questions of the implications of his very existence itself,  that the very fact that he was even born could have caused his mother to be brutally killed over her own child,  his father to spiral into a tangle of miserable vengeance  &  grieving paranoia,  &  his brother to sacrifice practically everything just to ensure his family’s unity  &  safety.

          it could be said that early seasons sam has a tendency to  ❛  make things about him  ❜  half the time,  but given the context that most things are bad things that he insists on blaming his inherent badness to match,  as well as the context of his entire character arc  &  theme  &  storyline,  this makes perfect sense.  it’s not selfish of sam to do this ;  to a.)  prioritize his own health  &  well-being over his father’s vendetta growing up,  &  to later b.)  associate anything bad with himself because he sees his very existence as something problematic  &  wrong for anyone to exist alongside,  believes the misery following his family around to be proof of this  —  his self-absorption / centered-ness is NOT a selfish act by any means at all,  &  i hope people never equate them as such.  though,  it’s a little late for that,  as i’m very aware there are plenty of people who aren’t the biggest fans of this particular aspect of sam.

          i think all of this is very closely linked to how dramatically losing his loved ones can debilitate him.  whether it’s after dean goes to hell or after he goes to purgatory,  sam’s reality seems to uproot,  to shift on its axis,  &  even his entire direction as a character in a way.  he believes most if not all his existence can offer is bad  &  wrong  &  EVIL,  but he also knows ( can’t deny ) that it offers his brother solace in a way nothing else can.  he may not ( doesn’t ) understand it,  but he can’t deny it in the face of all that his brother’s done for him  &  so he works with it,  works with this ONE THING he can’t deny he apparently does RIGHT  &  not wrong,  GOOD  &  not evil.  but even this soon proves to crumble,  by circumstance or admitted by dean himself in some way or another,  it proves to be something he just fucks up again  &  again at the expense of the person most important to him,  to the person who finds him just as important in return.  sam believes he draws in these problems like a true north,  at best causes his brother pain  &  at worst actual death.  once he loses the one single thing he thought he could do right,  whether it be by making mistakes or by losing this person entirely,  he loses any reason to go on,  any defense he had of justifying his continued existence ;  that even if he fucks up everything else,  he at least had this one redeeming reason he was even born,  &  to lose that is to lose any form of stability in living whatsoever.

          &  DON’T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON HOW MUCH DEAN’S CONTINUOUS SACRIFICES FOR HIM AGAIN  &  AGAIN THROUGHOUT FOREVER REINFORCES THIS ENTIRE WAY OF THINKING OK ( this is in no way a knock at dean but i won’t get into it now ofc because i already spewed enough sleep-deprived rambles for a day but wowie )

[sayaratyriea]

As the youngest child who has overprotective sisters and enjoys karate, I relate to Aelia so much. Is there anything you could reveal about her? What are her powers going to be (please make her super powerful I live for deadly fairy princesses)? What's she like? Does she have a lot of hobbies? What's her love life like (apart from Sayara ofc did I mention even though I don't know them I love her and Sayara)? What's her arc in the series going to be about? Thanks, and sorry for all the questions.

No need to apologize for questions! I am ALWAYS down to talk about Aelia Ravenhart, I too adore her. Unfortunately, I can’t get too deep into her destiny here, since it’s absolutely LOADED with spoilers. She’s a character who sort of embodies the world and plot in a meta sense--while she’s not canonically a cosmic keystone or anything heavy like that, I do deliberately use her to represent the state of the world in a lot of ways. The stuff that happens to her is directly related to the stuff that’s happening to Feilan, and her personal arc and trials are deliberate parallels to the way the world changes around her and the other leads. Her magic is a key example of this... I’ll throw you some crumbs, though, she does become super powerful. Her powers are also very unique in both nature and application, she has a notably rare skillset and she uses it mixed with her martial arts in a way that’s not seen anywhere else in the world of the story. She’s gotta go through hell to earn that magic, and she doesn’t have anything remarkable until book 4, but when she gets it she gets a lot of it. 

Her personal arc is about coming to a place of comfort with herself, and her relationship to her family. It’s close to a classic coming-of-age storyline. She starts out as this very gung-ho rebellious kid, and has to grow into someone who can handle responsibility without losing herself! She also has to figure out how to deal with her sisters. Aelia’s the most mentally stable of the Ravenharts, but she’s constantly exhausted dealing with the twins. Violet is always angry, Lavender is so depressed that she doesn’t seem to have a personality sometimes, and Aelia has to live with this and keep it from weighing too hard on her. It’s a lot of trouble. Plus Violet has this really toxic mentality that there’s nothing she can do about her own problems, and so she needs to be “saved” from her angst by external forces (aka her sisters). “Take care of myself? Shower unprompted? Actually go to the therapists at the national hospital, which are the best in the world, who could help me cope with this? ahhaha what’s that neurotypical bullshit.” that kind of thing. This fucks with Elli’s head for obvious reasons. She just wants to be herself, you know? But it feels like she’s not allowed to, because the twins have things so much worse, and they won’t stop reminding her about it.  

She hates being forced to sit down and deal with other people’s depression trauma in general--they’re all traumatized here, but since Aelia is (relatively) good at coping, nobody notices unless she bashes them in the face with it. She won’t do that, because she’s watched Violet do it enough to know it’s an awful thing to do to somebody. At first, she straight up tries to ignore the twins’ problems and talk reason to them. She doesn’t want to hear about it. Her character development pushes her towards accepting that no, she doesn’t have to fix her family, but she should at least show them a little pity. She has to move on from her obsession with how her family suffocates her, and strike a balance between tradition and transformation. It’s not a coincidence that she’s symbolically tied to lightning, my personal symbol of rebirth through destruction--that’s what Aelia needs to represent. She needs to find it in herself to destroy some of her own status quo, and she needs to find it in herself to let her relationship with her family and their traditions be reborn instead of just fading into the void. 

Aelia serves as a vessel for the series theme as a whole. Feilan is about rejuvenation and rebirth, the story of a stagnant country in a stagnant world that’s too afraid of losing something to move forward and build something new--until the algae fills the pond and chokes it out and something must be done. Elli carries the shift. She’s frustrated with the traditions of her family, she’s frustrated with the traditions of her country, she’s frustrated in all those ways that teenagers are when we start to notice that we live in a broken world. She’s not sure what to do about it yet, but she’s ready to burn things down if that’s what it takes. Sayara drives the plot, Aelia embodies it. 

I wouldn’t say she has that many hobbies, honestly, other than the ones I’ve mentioned in the WIP page. Which I guess isn’t on this blog, but on my writing one. She’s a princess in a country whose royals are expected to be politically active and occupied, so she spends most of her time learning how to move through social circles and deal with the day-to-day of being a VIP. She will probably never inherit, since she’s behind Violet and Lavender in the succession and Violet would rather die, but she’s still expected to marry into higher nobility eventually and be an executive leader type. When she’s not in tutoring lessons, she’s probably practicing martial arts or music. They help her calm down. 

Romance-wise, she doesn’t have much of a love life before the series. She’s had crushes, but they haven’t gone anywhere...  At the beginning of book 1 she’s only just turned 14, and it’s considered inappropriate to start pursuing romances before you’re 14 or 15, especially for nobility. She’s great at slick pickup lines but has had very few chances to use them, and if someone actually responded favorably she’d panic and not know what to do. That’d be super cute for an AU Tuesday thing where Sayara has working observation skills. She’s definitely had crushes on a couple classmates, but nothing that lasted--being a princess makes the power dynamics weird, and makes approaching her very intimidating for someone who’s not on her level. (Also, if anyone tried to date Aelia, Violet would kill them. This takes the intimidation up to 11.) Once she does meet Sayara, she gets a crush pretty quickly and stops paying attention to anyone else. Unfortunately for her, Sayara’s too heartblind to notice anything. I kid you not, there is a scene in book 3 where they dance together and call each other beautiful and almost kiss, and even THAT does not get Sayara’s attention as a potential romantic approach. She’s just like “oh Aelia my greatest friend” and Aelia dies on the inside. One of my greatest fears with these books is that I’ll be accused of queerbaiting somehow because Aelia’s constantly flirting and it doesn’t go anywhere, but Sayara’s just so goddamn oblivious and focused on everything else that it takes the entire massive spoiler drama of book 3 for her to figure out Elli liked her. She is an ex-self insert, after all. 

I wanna add a side note re: that romance here, since it came up, just because it’s a hotbutton topic--I do have an out-of-story reason for Sayara being a dumbass, and it’s because I don’t want to drive in any problematic Angsty Gay tropes by having them get together too early. There are a few different situations in book 3 that would become some really bad tropes if the gals were a couple at that point--everyone in this series goes through a lot of awful stuff, Aelia especially, and I don’t want even the slightest implication that any of it might be happening because of a gay romance. That would be objectively worse than teasing. They’ll get together in book 4 and it’ll be glorious and dramatic and cute as hell, but until then, they can stay just friends and angst as just friends. This is also a fair warning for you... Aelia goes through A LOT. I promise you everyone gets a happy ending eventually, but before that can happen, there’s a significant amount of pain and hard work involved. 

Absolutely feel free to ask more questions, though! I do love my fairies, and I need to develop Aelia better. She’s skirting the manic pixie dream girl line right now in a way that is the polar opposite of what I want out of her character. 

[brightlycoloredteacups]

Revenge At Hand

Series: Brynhilda’s Saga

Pairing: Ivar x OFC

Warnings: None really. 

Tagging: @anunhealthydoseofangst @salimahbicharara-comun @tiyetiye @ivarinleatherpants

A/N: If this has a lot of spelling errors in it, it’s all my fault, I was just too damn excited to get this out. 

Brynhilda has to wonder how much sadness one person can handle. Laying there, looking at the sky, she can’t help but feel very small. “Odin?” she whispers. “What is your plan for me? Is it to cause so much grief I simply die of heartbreak? Or are you testing me, as everyone says you are?” She is heartsick. She misses the girls, Ivar, her home. Everything.

A crow caws, startling her. Looking over she finds it staring at her, a fish at its feet. It gives it a nudge, rolling it towards her. She doesn’t feel like eating.  

She turns back to look at the sky. Deciding to focus her attention on planning. She isn’t too good with strategising, her one and only plan had always been ‘hit the enemy harder than they hit you’. She was sure this wasn’t going to work this time. The news that she lives had no doubt spread like wildfire throughout Boggvir’s kingdom. It’s all a matter of how she goes about attacking everyone, and who she’s attacking first. She needs to think like Boggvir, who would he attack first? Her chief concern is how she’s going to stop an entire army on her own?

She remembers Aslaug’s advice. She must not doubt her capability to lead. She thinks even further than that, to the man Ivar tortured. He said people would rise up to fight for her. How true was that? Would people come if she asked them? How would she get the message out?

The crow caws again. It’s a different tone, quieter, I must pay attention, she thinks. She sits up, listening. There are men nearby. She hops to her feet, grabbing her bag of provisions, and her sword. Keeping low, moving silently, she follows the voices. Which isn’t hard considering someone is screaming.

She stops behind a tree, peeking from behind it. One crow sits on her shoulder, while the other sits on a low branch. It’s a group of men and women, all around a fire, drinking, eating, and torturing a poor soul in bright clothing. Brynhilda has to look away, stomach turning despite the emptiness. She never could stand torture.

The crow nibbles her ear. “Yes,” She whispers, “I must do something, I know.” She unsheaths her new axe. She managed to trade some hide for it. It was better to have a swift, short range weapon in woods, rather than a sword. She slinks down to the group, wholly unsure of what she’s going to do.

She’s so focused on not making a sound, she doesn’t notice the man in the cage until he grabs the back of her shirt. She manages to hold in her yelp of surprise as she’s yanked into the air. “Free me,” The man hisses, “Why?” Brynhilda asks. She can never be accomodating, could she? “I want to kill those men, free me.” She raises an eyebrow, “What is one man going to do against ten?”

“What is one child going to do against ten?” The man counters. Brynhilda glares at him. “I will have you know, I am fully grown thank you.” The stranger looks her up and down, unconvinced. “You are rather short for a fully grown woman.” Brynhilda growls. “Put me down.” she kicks her feet to no avail. The man’s arm holds her away from the cage, she can’t get at him, not that she’s trying to hard.

“Free me,”

“I can't free you if I'm dangling in the air can I?” The man drops her to her feet. She’s surprised that she manages to stay upright. Looking back over her shoulder, Brynhilda holds her breath.

Breaking the chain on the cage will be a loud affair, she’ll have to strike quickly, and be ready for the inevitable fight ahead. “Odin, grant that my blad strike true,” She mutters before hefting her axe. She swings with all her might, shattering the chain cleanly. The man kicks that cage open, grabs her axe and charges the men. It happens so fast Brynhilda is left staring at empty space and an open palm. Her crow nibbles at her ear to pull her from her stupor.

She turns, watching with mild interest. Sitting down on a log, she takes one of the flagons of mead and begins to drink. As luck would have it, it’s blueberry. She smiles, watching the show. Her crow hops from her shoulder to her hand, taking a healthy gulp from her cup. The other simply watches from a branch above them. The prisoner lacks power, despite his hefty build, but he’s swift and deadly accurate. He takes the men out no problem, leaving Brynhilda sufficiently impressed. He turns back to her, axe still firmly in hand. Hers is on her sword, wary of him. “Drink?” She says, holding out another cup of mead. He nods, setting across from the dying fire. “Drink,” He mutters.

Of all the things Alf has seen, this one scares him the most. No, he isn’t scared, he’s unsettled. The young girl in front of him couldn’t be human. She had to be one of those forest things he’s heard the Vikings whisper about at night. Hulda? No, not unassuming enough. Volva. A witch, she had to be.

She’s dressed in simple traveler’s clothing, but everything else screams otherworldly. There’s a fine wolfskin that hung about her shoulders The pelt gleams, the eyes ever watchful. Her axe was sharp and beautifully balanced. The blade at her hip shines despite being sheathed. Her eyes have seen too much, her hair is too wild, and the two crows that sit about her person are too watchful.

“Alf,” He says, by way of greeting. “Brynhilda,” Alf is trying to figure out if she’s a threat or not, from the look in her eyes, she’s doing the same thing. When she and the crow perched on her knee have finished their mead, she throws up cup over her shoulder, then stands. “Well, Alf, it’s been fun,” She nods to him and walks away. “Where are you going?” He asks, alarmed. “This is no place for a child to wander about alone. And what about your axe?”

The woman pauses. “I’m not a child,” She tells him, whipping around, “I’m just incredibly short! Keep the axe, you need it more than I.” Alf crosses his arms. “Even a grown woman isn’t this short.” He smirks, enjoying the annoyed look on her face. “I am Brynhilda! I don’t need this.” She throws her hands in the air and continues to stalk off into the forest. “You say your name like it’s supposed to mean something to me.” Alf says, continuing after her. She pauses, turning to him, mouth hanging open in shock. “Are you famous?” He asks, still highly amused. She stutters for a moment, incredulous. She settles on ignoring him.

Alf follows her nonetheless. “Where are you going not-as-famous-as-you-thought Brynhilda,” This comment doesn’t annoy her like he thought it would. “Doesn’t matter, you’re not coming with me,”

“Oh no, of course not, the problem is, I have no clue where I am, I need to get to a town and you seem like my best bet to get there.” She throws a thumb behind her, “Town is that way,”

“Then why are you going the opposite direction? It’s dangerous for a child to be out here by herself.”

As if to prove his point, Brynhilda trips, landing face first into the muck. Her crows seem to laugh at her. Alf picks her up and puts her right on her feet. He has trouble not laughing at the enraged look on her face. “You will follow me to the next town,” She tells him, “No further.”

“No further,” He agrees.

*

The town is cold, gray, subdued. This is not the same village she remembers growing up in. She looks at the people’s faces. Fear has settled upon them. She wraps her arms around herself, hoping her shoddy disguise is enough to keep her from being recognized. Sure, it’s only a grey cloak, but it’s better than her wolf pelt. That would’ve been a dead give away.

“Where are we?” Alf whispers, trying not to disturb the silence. “Don’t worry about it,” She snaps, hurrying through the street, making sure not an inch of skin is exposed. She makes it all the way to the end of the village when she stops. Alf bumps into her, grunting. She can see the ruined land from here. Slowly, not actually wanting to see the devastation, she walks forward.

Brynhilda stands in front of the ruins of her memories. She isn’t surprised, she knew this had happened, but still...to see her family home reduced to nothing more than a few timber pieces piled haphazardly about is unsettling. She had wanted to raise a family there. Little warriors running about playing with wooden swords. She wanted to keep the name Brynjar alive, in some small way. She will never get the chance.

She looks at the family tree. It’s as grey as the surrounding, wilted, dead. This breaks her heart more than being blood eagled, more than losing Ivar. She buckles, knees driving themselves into the muddy ground. She can’t help the sob that comes forth. Her land, her home, her everything, gone, just like that.

Alf stands awkwardly behind her, recognizing the scene for what it was. He grits his teeth, heart going out to her. One so small, so young, should not know the grief that turns grown men into walking corpses. He’s going to put a hand to her shoulder when he hears someone walking up. His axe is out in an instant, turning to the sound. It’s a small boy, looking slightly frightened, there are flowers in his hands, and the Valknut dangling from them. “A monster used to live there,” the boy whispers, not sure what to do. It seems he didn’t want to disturb the silence here. He slowly approaches. “That’s what the say,”

“Who says that,” Alf asks, interested. He walks up to Brynhilda, lowering her cowl, understanding the importance of her disguise. “The grownups.” The boy says. “I know better.”

“Do you?” The boy nods. “A valkyrie lived here,” He places the flowers at the foot of the tree. “They say she was greedy, power hungry, evil.”

“But she wasn’t?” Alf watches as Brynhilda’s shoulders start to shake with emotion. “She was the kindest woman I’ve ever met.” He says a quick prayer over the valknut and places it next to the flowers. “That symbol,” Alf asks, “What does it mean?”

“It’s a binding symbol.” The boy explains, “The others are putting it all over their doors and pray to keep Brynhilda asleep, I pray that Odin releases Brynhilda from her deathly binds and brings her back. We need her.” Alf nods. “Run along boy, it’s cold out today.” The boy senses Alf is dangerous enough not to argue with him. He takes off running.

Alf watches after the child, only for a few moments. Rage taints the air. He turns back to see Brynhilda is standing, eyes half crazed with grief. “Brynhilda,” He warns, holding up his hands. She is going to do something brash, he knows it. She walks past him, straight up the lane of the village. He follows her, not bothering to stop her. In his head, he’s cursing her though. He might not live to see tomorrow after this.

She burst through the doors of the mead hall, strides up to the Jarl in his chair and gives his head a violent jerk to the right. Just like that, the thing slumps to the floor. “What in Odin’s name?!” Someone says standing. She turns, removing her cowl. Yup, Alf thinks, that is definitely the look of a crazed woman. The men take in a collective gasp. Alf turns, his axe out in a minute. “If you would follow me,” Brynhilda says, voice surprisingly stable, “Then stay. If you follow Boggvir, leave, before I have it in my mind to kill you.” There’s a heavy silence as men decide what to do. They all look at each other. The oldest one, a gray haired man past his prime steps up. “I think I speak for everyone when I say, fuck Boggvir.” Her face slacken, turns bright, then she smiles. Gods, Alf breathes, she’s beautiful, isn’t she? “We are Brynhilda’s warriors,” The man continues, the rest growl the affirmation, “We have always been Brynhilda’s warriors,” another string of affirmations, this time louder. “And we will die as Brynhilda’s warriors.” This time, it’s a fucking cheer that rings throughout the hall. Brynhilda’s smile widens. She kicks the body to the side, then sits on the throne. “Good,” She says, “Now, which one of you is brave enough to tell Boggvir my revenge is at hand?”

[swissmissficrecs]

Outsider POV

Johnlock fics from other people’s perspectives:

Alternative Facts by SwissMiss (10K, Explicit, Johnlock) It was so nice to see they'd finally got things sorted. After all they'd been through, they deserved to be happy. (Or: Five times people imagined what John and Sherlock get up to in the bedroom, and one time we see what they really get up to.)

As Others See Us by esterbrook (26K, Teen, Pre-slash) A sudden death on a busy London street. A music impresario with shady connections. It's just another investigation for Sherlock and John until they stumble on a witness with an awkward knack for seeing a little too much. Will the tourist help tie the case together before heading home — or throw a spanner in the works and leave a mess behind?

Coming of Age by 221b_careful_what_you_wish_for (13K, Mature, Johnlock) It’s not easy growing up when your father is best friends with Sherlock Holmes. It’s even harder when you stumble across their secret.

Five Years Prior by feverishsea (19K, Teen, Johnlock) John and Sherlock meet five years earlier, when both of them are a little bit younger and a little bit softer. It doesn't necessarily make things any easier.

Four People Who Lied to John For Sherlock, and the One Time Sherlock Didn't Have To by round_robin (14K, Mature, Johnlock) After his Fall, all Sherlock wants to do is keep John safe. If everyone they love has to lie for him... well, he's okay with that.

Getting Better by nox_candida (75K, Teen, Pre-slash) Tristram Holmes dreads attending his new primary school, fearing he'll be teased and bullied as usual. Only, nothing goes exactly as he thinks it will when he finds himself with a seemingly unlikely friend in Emily Watson.

and a spin-off sequel to the above (not just outsider POV):

Cracks in the In-Between Places by SwissMiss (94K, Teen, Johnlock) John and Sherlock work together to flush out Mary's killers, and Tristram has to come to terms with what his father's new friend means for him.

Growing Up on Baker Street by hato (18K, General, Johnlock) It takes years for Little Sophie to understand that her neighbors are not quite 'normal' and a series of life lessons to appreciate the fact.

Grownups by EmmyAngua (18K, Teen, Johnlock) Somehow - without anyone ever being sure how it happens - Sherlock becomes Archie's mentor. At least he *thinks* he's the mentor.

Paved With Love by KeelieThompson1 (48K, Teen, Johnlock) Five year old Ava Watson's life is changed forever when her Daddy's old friend comes calling.

The Blog of Eugenia Watson by Mad_Lori (95K, General, Johnlock and John/OFC) I like to think of this not so much as a blog but as the first draft of my inevitably best-selling memoirs. My Life In an Unconventional Family. How unconventional? Well, I live with my divorced parents and my dad's husband.  How's that for starters? Trust me, it gets weirder. My name is Eugenia Watson, but you can call me Genie. I'm sixteen. This is my life.

The Green Carnations by SilentAuror (19K, Mature, Johnlock and Warstan) When Janine met Sherlock at John & Mary's wedding, she thought she knew what sort of a man Sherlock Holmes was. So it was a surprise when he called to ask her out for coffee not long after. Set during and after His Last Vow.

The Secret Identity of John Watson by scifigrl47 (27K, General, Pre-slash) Taken out of context, John Watson leads a terrifying life. You have to wonder what those poor women he dates thinks of it, especially if John decides to try keeping one away from Sherlock, and Sherlock decides that it'd be best if he could get rid of her.  After all, Mycroft's taught him a thing or two about removing potential 'problems.'

With Eyes Wide Open by cleflink (8K, Mature, Johnlock) In which souls are deceptively easy to see and no one can quite figure out what the deal is with Sherlock and John. Magic realism.

[aceofwands]

Ria hateblogs Discovery Episode 3: “Context doesn’t make this show any better Is For Kings” (originally livelogged to @kendradaynes and a car full of her friends)

(I’m only watching this now cause I was waiting to watch it with my Dad, but today he told me he didn’t want to!)

I’m sorry, miners for the war effort? yes. the Federation DEFINITELY uses forced labour (just like it definitely sentences Starfleet officers to life in prison instead of dishonourably discharging them)

oh but it’s okay, cause these prisoners are racist! “Andorians are cold in all the wrong places” fuck OFF with this bigotry in Federation citizens

... there are ... electricity eating ... space bugs ... eating the shuttle ... 

oh and now the pilot’s dead?!!! what IS this rubbish

oh

oh I see

this is all so they could introduce the Discovery with maximum drama

(of course it is, everything this show does is based on ‘what will look the coolest and make the least sense?’)

also, it arrived just in time to conveniently tractor their prison shuttle (wait, is this a warp shuttle? didn’t TOS shuttles, y’know, not have warp drives?) buuut not save the pilot who was JUST THERE with a transporter I guess?

w o w the Discovery design is even worse than the schematics in the title sequence suggested

... we have a Starfleet security chief who just said “I see we’re here to unload all kinds of garbage today” to the prisoners

THIS IS SO FUCKING WRONG

honestly, I’m surprised mutiny is even a problem in this AU verse (no fucking way is this prime) considering what colossal assholes every Starfleet officer is on this show

omg “silver shirts” “black badge” what is it with these endless attempts to be ~edgy~

... Michael is getting in a fight with the prisoners entirely for drama

seriously why does this scene exist? it makes no sense (the Captain wanted to see her anyway, the prisoners are in the brig, no one ate anything)

oh cool cool cool the security chief just said Vulcans should stick to logic and dissed their martial arts ... is everyone here racist???

oh lord here we go, time to meet edge lord Lorca (why is he American)

... ... he needs light to change slowly because of a recent battle injury NOT because this show needs pointlessly dramatic lighting to make its mundane nonsense writing ~exciting~

also he has a glass standing desk with a bowl of fortune cookies ... I can’t

riiiight Michael is refusing to help Lorca and he’s like ‘lol I don’t care, you don’t have a choice’

I hate everything about this

his mission is 'ending the war', and ofc he needs Michael's help

whyyyy can't they just make a regular Star Trek show

oh lord, WHY does everyone love Cadet Tilly?

black ... alert 

~mysterious science things~

it's SO BAD omfg

lord, Saru's first officer on the Discovery how

he's eating blueberries out of a glass bowl while they walk ... w h y 

it's all just so negative. it's fucking gloomy. everyone's weird and ~quirky~ or ~mysterious~

she's mostly wandering around engineering being confused cause no one's telling her anything for drama

lord Lieutenant Stamets has arrived. he's a colossal ass. poor Anthony Rapp, you deserve better

20 mins in I'm sooooo bored

it's trying SO HARD to be dramatic. and it's so FLAT

Michael just found a flaw in Stamets code and the ~dramatic music~ is playing. even though it's boring as

also there's a breath test to enter the engineering lab, and Michael is using Tilly's snoring breath to enter

WHY

you said you weren't gonna cause trouble Michael

the lab has idk something growing looks like seaweed

even the fucking computer voice sounds wrong

uuuuuuuuuuugh

Stamets is arguing with Lorca

I hate this. so much.

I might not agree with Roddenberry’s edict that Starfleet crews shouldn’t have conflict, but this goes way, way too far in the opposite direction

omg the fucking warp effects

oh lord the tac vests are back

I haaaate Tilly. omg. how does everyone love her?

I kinda like that Stamets hates Michael, because I don't like her either. but seriously, everyone's just an ASS

what does this awful dialogue even mean??? he's having a dramatic bitch about how he and his partner's fungus research was supposed to discover the ~building blocks of the universe~ but how it's been co-opted for war. 

they're trying soooo hard to make it mysterious that it's just like, who cares

ewwwww got up to the gross stuff. oh and now we're in a monster movie!

idk, I feel like I'd appreciate all of this a lot more if it wasn't pretending to be a normal Trek series, and wasn't promised as more Star Trek.

like if they'd said, we're making a horror action drama set in the Trek universe, I'd be like 'okay cool'

this Klingon just shushed the Fleet crew and this monster ate him ... was I supposed to be excited or impressed by any of this? it’s just a whole lotta who gives a fuck tbh

non red shirt is dead. ewwwwwwwwww talk about body horror  D:  they got like ... twisted in whatever mysterious accident happened

Michael's lured the creature off into the Jefferies Tubes while the others escape

ohhhhh lord

FUCKS SAKE

Michael is reciting lines from Alice in Wonderland WHILE CRAWLING THROUGH THE JEFFERIES TUBES

NO. (NO ONE DOES THAT. NO ONE. IT’S FUCKING STUPID!)

OMFG. she just dropped out of the tubes through a hatch straight into the shuttle which had its top hatch open. I can't even. STOP TRYING TO BE COOL SHOW

seriously, this is exactly what Michael Piller was talking about in that quote I shared the other day: “there’s a new kind of action writing in Hollywood ... it begins with identifying ‘set pieces’, big self-contained action moments that are thrilling and memorable, and then finding some way way to string all your set pieces into a coherent narrative.” 1701% that is how Discovery is written.

Saru: "You were always a good officer, until you weren't." so much ~angst~

Lorca: "don't worry about Starfleet, they gave me discretion to fight this war however I see fit" THAT'S NOT HOW STARFLEET WORKS (and there’s no fucking way ONE GUY is in charge of the entire war effort)

Michael thinks they're building a biological spore based weapon against the Geneva Conventions and that's what they need her help for

NO. they just site to site transported. they can't DO THAT YET.

Lorca is explaining that they're developing a biological propulsion drive. with these spores ... ooookay this scene makes no sense. she's standing in a chamber they put these spores into. and then he just pressed some buttons and showed her on the surface of a bunch of planets???  I don't understand this nonsense

Lorca chose her because she was ~right~ about the Klingons at the battle of the binary stars ... no. no she wasn’t. the whole prelude was fucking dumb and that makes this all so much harder to stomach.

now he's offering her a fortune cookie asking what she wished for. "you helped start a war, don't you wanna help me end it?' sigh.

there are bits ... I don't entirely hate ... I mean it's REALLY DUMB. don't get me wrong.

ohhh now we're getting the gross Lorca and security chief Landry ominous scene

he's in a lab of horrors ???? he has a Cardassian Vole HOW

HE BEAMED THE MONSTER ON BOARD DISCOVERY. WTF. WHYYYYYY

I was starting to not 100% hate you show! (just 99%)

and then you go and RUIN IT