#and one truly became an absolute monster while the other tried so hard to learn how to be human again

[zacksfairest]

i gotta say the two ultimate gutpunches in Monster for me were:

"Did she try to save me? Or did she confuse me and my sister? Which one of us was the unwanted child?"

the revelation that Roberto (the slimiest and most hated man in the whole show for me) was Mr. Grimmer's friend from Kinderheim 511 who loved bugs but hated killing them so he always let them go after he caught them

[doctorofmagic]

I have to ask, what is it about Stephen Strange that draws you to him? I've always been a fan of Marvel, and I even like the magic side (I'm mostly an X-Men fan), but Strange always came off as a little arrogant to me. Do you have any recommended reading to help change the opinion?

Hello! Well, if you don't mind a long post ahead haha

I gave a quick view on why I love Stephen so much here but I think perhaps it's worth writing a new analysis and go deeper this time since it's been a while now.

Also thank you for the background, I believe it will help me explain why some people indeed perceive him as arrogant.

Long story short, when you mostly read comics that are not centered around Stephen's character, it's quite easy to assume he's arrogant and nothing else. And that characterization got SO MUCH WORSE thanks to Waid and his v5, which can also be perceived in Strange Academy, both runs that didn't escape my criticism. I'm very loud about how unhappy I am to see him portrayed like that.

Because if you go into the past, like, really into the past, you'll see that even in Strange Tales, Stephen is not that arrogant as a sorcerer. In fact, he's confident when it comes to the enemy. He is SO SURE he'll prevail because he utterly believes that good will triumph over evil. Also he's smart. He's not the most powerful sorcerer out there but boi, he's truly cunning. And this is why he ends up defeating incredible enemies like Dormammu and Nightmare, and even Mephisto, Satannish and so many others. But when it comes to TAO? He's deeply humble. He respects TAO and treats him like a master and a father figure. To the point that he needed to have a whole arc (Into Shamballa) just to be able to question TAO's methods and say no to him. And I kid you not, TAO did some shady stuff.

But the thing that gets into my nerves when some writers merely portray Stephen as arrogant is the fact that there's actually no character growth. I'm not saying Stephen is perfect, of course. But there's something shallow and one-dimensional when you decide to write a character without actual development. This is why I'm pretty much okay with Stephen as an Illuminati. Because yes, his arrogance led him to do terrible things, and said things still haunt him to this very day. He regrets it fiercely. There are actual consequences to his acts and he pays for it daily, because it affects his mental health and his own notion of worthiness. This is a panel that I post quite often because it represents everything I just said. He became aware of his mistakes due to his arrogance, and he cannot forgive himself for it.

From New Avengers v1 Annual #2.

So Stephen steps back as the Sorcerer Supreme because he needs to learn humility again. And throughout New Avengers v1 and v2, you see that Stephen is sorry and constantly afraid of bothering people (which I consider his first steps into what could later be read as his depression in v4).

From New Avengers v2 #7.

And after that we have Stephen yet again allowing his arrogance to get the best of him in New Avengers v3, until he loses everything but he keeps going. And that's one of the reasons why I love him so much. He doesn't care about himself as long as he's able to save something. And although he didn't manage to defeat the Beyonders, he found his way to be one out of the three people who saved it all in Secret Wars. And he could have been a god but he saw power and ran away, because he was afraid of what he could have become (and so he allows Doom to do it).

He doesn't hesitate to serve Victor and calls him a god and savior, which is also something quite unthinkable for someone who is perceived as arrogant.

And that's the whole point. After Secret Wars, Stephen is miserable. He degrades himself, he constantly throws himself into danger without any regard towards his own life, he tries so hard not to screw things up because the monster in the cellar keeps growing (Mr. Misery is absolutely a metaphor for his depression).

From Doctor Strange v4 #18.

Basically, v4 is a lesson about self-love and forgiveness. Stephen went through so much, well, misery, that he needs to be reminded that he actually is loved and his existence is valid and important.

From Doctor Strange #390.

This is exactly what draws me into Stephen. The fact that he struggles with self-worth but he still literally gives his own life to do good? And NO ONE knows because he does it all in secret, in the dark when people are not looking. He doesn't need glory or acknowledgement, but the world truly needs him because the mantle of the Sorcerer Supreme is a burden and only Stephen is willing to sacrifice his entire life for it. And no one has ever portrayed that notion so perfectly as Jed in his DODS: Spider-Man tie-in. I deeply recommend checking it out because it shows how Stephen cares not only for magic but ordinary people. He goes every night to a bus stop to protect a lady while she waits for her bus. And only she knows about it. That's what people who are not into Stephen miss and this is why he may look arrogant. But I assure you, this man is... ugh, he's magnificent.

From Death of Doctor Strange - Spider-Man #1.

Yes, Jimena. He's a lovely man.

And since you mentioned X-Men... My last argument for it is simply... Magik. She's not one to take bs from people but she always displays the utmost respect for Stephen, which means a lot coming from someone like her. Stephen has always helped and cared for her, and their bond is strong till this very day. Mostly because he's kind around her and he does not hesitate to be there for her.

From Extraordinary X-Men #8.

My point is, yes. I can understand why people have this idea of Stephen being arrogant. It takes some digging to see his deeper layers tho. And also avoid some writers (Waid, Skottie, I'm looking directly at you). But if you dig Jed's Death of Doctor Strange, you'll see a love letter to the character and how important he truly is to people who knew him.

Stephen is really sorry about the mistakes he has made. He apologized to Hulk and he knows he will never be able to repair their friendship (detailed analysis about this here). This is why he keeps wallowing in self-pity whenever he looks at Clea's picture. This is why he avoids people and teams. He's trying, and that makes him human. And that's the main reason why I love him so much.

Oof, that's it. I hope it helped you see him through a new perspective. Thank you for passing by!

[lovee-infected]

Part 2!

Kalim al asim

Giving: Gifts

What would you wish for? Doesn’t matter! As long Kalim has got it doesn’t matter he doesn’t not care how worthy, rare or expensive it is. If it’s what his darling is asking for, he no longer cares; if he’s got what it takes to make you happy he won’t resist the urge to give it up for you.

No one ever matters to him like you do. You’re the one and only, his dearest being and the worthiest treasure he could’ve ever asked for. It’s only by love that one can realize all the money and wealth worthless if you’ve got no one by your side. Someone to talk to, someone to laughs with, someone to cry with, someone that cannot be bought by money.

Those whom you care for are and are cared for by are man’s greatest property, which he is willing to protect. He doesn’t want to ever lose or see you sad, you deserve nothing but all the best. You’re the brightness of his life, and happiness of his days. At this point anything and everyone but you seem to be pretty worthless. He’s ready to give up on his everything for his darling, and he’s just asking for one thing in return: you.

Giving and receiving: Quality time

It’s pretty rare of him to be spending time with anyone else than you while he doesn’t have to; if he ever has a choice you’ll be the decision. He understands that you two can’t be sticking to each other 24/7 but would appreciate it if you could’ve been together more than you already can; he tries to set his schedule based on your and switches classes to match your plans so when you’re free he won’t have anything to do either.

He’d love it if he could be classmates too but that doesn’t seem really easy to approach, therefore he should get used to it. First thing he needs after a tiring day and sometimes sad is his darling; your beautiful smile on its own would surely brighten his day no matter how tired he is.

Though sometimes it’s the other way, you might not be as energetic as usual. If you ask him to leave you alone, he’d respect your opinion even as it breaks his hard. And if you don’t ask him to leave, he’d stay. If silence is what you need he won’t say a word, and if you need a listener he’d be all ears. He understands that you could’ve treated him like anyone else out there, like a normal friend or even a stranger passing by. Yet you let him of all people in and trusted him with your feelings, he feels so special. He’s thankful that you’re there for him and wishes to be always there for you in return.

Jamil Viper

Giving: Acts of service

He often tells you that he always hated having to babysit Kalim around. He didn’t ever like the feeling of being a servant, made him feel so empty and worthless. Yet he doesn’t seem to be thinking so when it comes to you, in contrast to Kalim he doesn’t really seem to mind helping you out even if it’s too much sometimes.

Of course he’d like his darling to have a rather strong personality so he’ll love you even more if you’re the type to handle yourself on your own, but if you ever need help with something, he’d be the first person to realize and will br surprisingly eager to help you out. He would be in serious trouble if anything happens to Kalim, but he’d be a lot worse if anything happens to you.

Growing up with Kalim has indirectly increased his protectiveness towards ones he cares for, sometimes to the point of doing everything he does for Kalim for you as well; you can say that it’s lowkey became part of his nature now. He doesn’t see it as overworking though, your troubles aren’t much and are rather taken care of easily. That’s nothing for him. In fact he just seeks his darling’s safety and wealth and with the way he serves you on it, you seem to be nothing lower than a Queen/King to him.

Receiving: Words of affirmation

It’s sometimes hard to understand what he truly needs; he mostly talks about him wishing to be left on his own for some time or being able to travel around the word alone. It’s okay to assume that he prefers to be on his own when he needs to but in reality, there are ways to make him enjoy being with another one when he’s feeling bitter as well.

Main reason of him asking to be left alone is that no one really makes him feel better when he needs to, they just seem to be a pain… repeatedly asking him to talk about what’s bothering him. He feels so misunderstood. He doesn’t need someone to question him over the details, all he needs is to feel better, to be understood. You’ve seen his pain and sorrow better than anyone else has, so no one can ever help him better than you can. He hates speaking about his problems therefore his darling needs to be wise enough to realize what’s wrong through his behaviors.

Tell him that you know what’s bothering him, that you understand his frustration and pain. Let him know that he won’t be judged for getting off his chest; doesn’t matter if it’s about the unfairness of his terms with Kalim for the hundredth time or a new student that has been getting on his nerves lately, all that matters is him feeling safe to talk.When he needs to hear you, phrase him. Make him feel almighty and important, he enjoys the feeling. He’s not a sadistic and power thirsty monster wanting to be respected and worshiped by the whole world, he’s just a young boy who deserves more attention and respect after all he’s been going through for so long.

Vil Schoenheit

Giving: Acts of service

As your partner he’s responsible toward you and your act, your problmes are also his, he shall not let you go through them all on your own. Know that he’s always there to support you no matter what and of course, Vil Schoenheit is the type of guy to step on anyone getting on his, or his darling’s way like a roach.

This isn’t all he’s up to though, helping you deal with such random problems is pretty simple compared to all the things he’d willingly do for you. He knows what he’s doing, so you’d better listen. While he can be quite protective over the way you look, what you eat, how much you sleep and what kind of skincare routines you follow, know that your beauty and health is all he cares for.

Of course he’s got other standards as well. He tends to lead his darling into having their appearance alongside with theirmanners improved; he genuinely supports them into developing a better personality. Manners and behaviors are greatly important.Doesn’t matter if you’re totally new to his strict dos and don'ts or not, he’s got the patience and enthusiasm to teach you everything step by step, never in a hurry. While he might take it hard on you so you’ll slowly learn to get used to the routine, he doesn’t mean it to bring you pain and frustration under his rules, therefore he’s always careful not to go too far. Beside that, he’s really into spoiling you.

He doesn’t mind spending hours applying your makeup or helping you get dressed. Time seems to be pretty worthless at this point. You’ll all that matters so when he says that he cares for nobody like he cares for you, know that he means it.

Receiving: Quality time

He does really enjoy being phrased and told that ‘how stunning he looks’ all the time; appreciation isn’t something you should deny, after all. Though he really loves it when you as well are fond of his beauty and tell him how breathtaking he is, he still prefers to actually spend time with you rather than just hearing words. He’s already aware that many are around him are just trying to take advantage; thinking that Vil is one to be easily fooled by just being worshiped by a bunch of dogs like them. Also: He doesn’t need anyone to tell him how gorgeous he is, he already knows it anyway.

While Vil enjoys leaving others breathless by his outstanding elegance and beauty, he isn’t gullible at all; he’d easily find out if someone truly cares for him or is just faking it. Vil wants you to spend more time with him; he doesn’t insist on you doing anything special or trying to make a big deal out of it. As long as you’re doing fine and he gets to see you everyday it’s fine. He just wants to make sure that you enjoy spending time with him just as he does, he does care if his darling still loves him or not.

To add to that, he loves spending time with you as well. Sometimes it’s also an opportunity for him to get flirty, or even soft. He likes to leave small braids on your hair when you two aren’t doing anything special, just sitting together and enjoying the quiet pace.

Rook Hunt

Giving: Words of affirmation

Probably the most romantic guy within this list, isn’t he? Being in a love relationship with Rook has got a fairytale aesthetic which is pretty rare to be seen these days. He wants to show you the love you’ve read through stories; to him at least, tales of eternal lovers who sing of each other’s love are way more than simple stories.

He finds words quiet powerful and strong, sometimes sharper an arrow’s blade. Words can kill, words can heal. And he’d make sure to have his words chosen rightly therefore his darling would never stop loving him back. Not a single soul dislikes being phrased, the only point is finding the right way of doing it.

Telling you how much he loves you everyday? Of course. Taking his time to recite you love poems which will probably have you weak? Why not. Writing you love letters and leaving them on your bed before you return home? Sure then.

You are beautiful and absolutely lovely, you surely deserve to be loved and cherished like he does. Better know French, because he’s planning to convert his secret love massages in french, though he’d enjoy it more if you end up having to look up the words in dictionary and suddenly melt as you realize what Rook has told in French. Oh god, just how much he loves it when his words leave you all blushy and flustered. So adorable, so cute.

Receiving: Quality time

He obviously appreciates each and every of his seconds spent beside you, talking, walking, sleeping and even nothing more than him silently following you, which you won’t necessarily be aware of. He lives the life of a hunter and has spent most of his time silently watching, doesn’t matter if it’s a poor prey or just another ordinary human being passing by, he enjoys it anyway.

And just what may more entertaining than watching you, his favorite person of all people? It can sound both romantic creepy and romantic at the same time, but his darling should know better; Rook can be obsessed and his obsessions aren’t necessarily the safest.

There’s a pretty low chance of it, but he’d definitely love it if you, his darling, have got the same unhealthy tastes as him, even in lower terms. He clearly enjoys stalking on people and wouldn’t mind having his darling as a partner, you’ll be a perfect due indeed. May sound mad, but he can’t help but to find it dreamy. Wouldn’t it be so romantic?

Epel Felmier

Giving: Gifts

He isn’t the best at usuing words, and his fragile body on the other hand often holds him back from helping you with chores as much as he’s willing to, which lowkey frustrates him. Best he can do for his darling is to show his love and affection through gifts; something that doesn’t need a masculine body to be afforded and is also a great way for you to remember him.

If he’s got a chance, he’d go for something expensive and luxurious such as perfumes, jeweleries, shoes and if possible, something huge like a car or motorcycle. He can have a pretty imagination about what he wants to give you but reality often bounds him to small, simple gifts he can actually afford.

It makes him feel really bad that he can’t give you the gift you deserve but still doesn’t feel to come up with something that shakes your heart. He’d mostly go with making matching bracelets for both of you to wear or baking homemade apple pies using his family recipes. If possible he leaves another small gift or a love letter too when he hands his gifts to you, shyly asking you to accept them with a pink blush all over his face. His gifts may not be perfect, but they’re surely cute and sweet. Just like Epel himself.

Receiving: Words of affirmation

He often tries to hide it but it’s pretty obvious; Epel is an affectionate boy. While he hates getting go be called soft and being open about his feelings with most of the people around him, he doesn’t you babysitting him at all.

People around him often make him feel insecure and dumb, especially as they look down on him because of his appearance and sensitive attitude; perhaps this explains some of his aggressive behaviors at the time.

He doesn’t mind being open about his fears and pain around you because you don’t humiliate him like many did, you never even called him weak. He doesn’t feel like a helpless baby around you. Having you around, he realizes that he’s really got a lot he needs to get off his chest. For so long, Epel has needed someone to be there for him when needs to, someone to share his tears and laughters with.

Sometimes all he needs is a warm embrace and being told that everything’s going to be fine, and the only one Epel wants to hear these words coming from is you.

Idia Shroud

Giving: Quality time

He wants to be left alone, everyone knows it. He would’ve immediately asked anyone in his room to leave if it wasn’t you. You’re an exception. Calling you into his room might seem to be no big deal since it’s just the two of you in a room, but know that you’re one of the very few people who’d ever gotten to be this close to him.

He does chitchat but isn’t really good at long conversations. He still needs to have his social skills improved but yet he wants to take advantage since he feels comfortable around you. He may just ask you over to watch him while he plays video games in silence, but it’s not a bother.

The point is him wanting to spend his time with you instead of just locking himself as usual. You’ve got to be so very special to him to get this close without him holding you back. Know that letting people around him is the hardest thing Idia can ever do, yet he still lets you and only you into his safe zone.

Receiving: Physical touch

Why would anyone ever want to touch him anyway? He is isolated, cold and socially awkward. People on the other hand either call him dumb or find him creepy. Social media was the only solution to overcome his lack of communication, a way to be somehow accepted as a independent being but- Physical touch isn’t something you can get online.

He may not realized it but he wants it so bad: He needs it. He needs to be hugged, he needs to be kissed, he needs to be touched. But not everyone can be trusted with it, it’s too hard for him to let someone in after locking himself away from the whole world all this time.

If he lets you in, know that you’re the only one who can give him the love he seeks. Hold him tight, make him touch you back and feel you, it’s all new to him so be the teacher who learns him how it should be. He needs time getting used to it, even with simplest of stuff like holding hands.He needs to take baby steps in love so make sure to take it slow with him. Let him get used to being touched and touching you back, let him embrace the pleasure of having you close, to feel that he loves someone who loves him back.

Malleus Draconia

Giving and receiving: Gifts

Malleus isn’t one to easily fall in love but if once ne does, he’d to do anything they can to make his darling person happy and to immerse themselves into these feelings. He’s totally acceptive toward anything his darling wants; ask him and he’d shower you in roses and diamonds.

His gifts ore always delicate and unique; when he decides on giving you jeweleries, for example, know that it’s going to be extremely glamorous and charming, no need to mention that it will be no cheap either. No one’s willing to bring happiness and wealth to your life like he does; he’s ready to do whatever it takes to make his darling smile, anything for you.

While he’s quite dedicated in serving you like his beloved prince/princess when he gives you a gift, he’s pretty affectionate and soft toward simple gifts which many may find silly. His attachment to his small tamagotchi can be a good example of it; it isn’t just him being hooked with his childhood interests after leaving for decades, but it’s rather a sign of how much a single gift can mean to him.

Whatever you give him, even as it’s something as simple as a paper flower or friendship bracelet, he’d make sure to take his best care of it, he may even put magical spells on them so they won’t be easily destroyed or ruined. If possible, he’d be always holding your gift as a lucky charm in his pocket. Doesn’t matter how silly the gift is, it’s still something from you, his dearest ever. To add to that, it’s also a sign of you thinking about him, which is enough for the Fae to be satisfied.

Receiving: Quality time

It still fascinates him to see that you aren’t scared of him. Do you really fail to see the monster he hides within? Would you still love him even as you know that deep inside, he’s nothing but pure evil?

You were such a mystery, ever since you stepped into Malleus’s life. The moment he saw you, he knew that there was something different about you; something that separated you from the rest of the world though he didn’t know what. Perhaps this was how he took his first interest in you, which ended with you being his new habit, sometimes to be called obsession.

Just after a short while talking pending time with you turned into one of his daily priorities, to the point of him having special hour saved to be spent with you and only you, no one else matters. He doesn’t want to be a bother therefore he’s much of a listener than a speaker in your normal conversations. He wouldn’t mind listening to you for hours but, know that he’d be really amazed if you get him into talking. Ask him questions:What are some of his favorite childhood memories? What does he enjoy doing the most? What was the wildest dream he’s ever had?

He may be quite confused at your questions at first since he isn’t really one to talk, but once he gets used to it, you can see that he truly enjoys sharing ideas. Is spite of his seemingly cold and unapproachable aurora, he can be quite expressive and chill. The main reason of him being silent most of the time is that no one else really cares to talk to him. Most of the people he’s got around either hate him or are too scared to say a word; most of the people except you. Spending time with you has made Malleus experience things he wasn’t ever expecting to go through, the feeling of loving someone and to be loved back is just one of them.

Lilia Vanrouge

Giving: Physical touch

He would measure his limits based on how comfortable you are with this; but it won’t ever go to the point of him not doing this at all. It can be ranged from cuddles to deep sensual touches not many would go through, depends.

He sees no point in other ways of showing love: Gifts are nothing but money wasted on normal man-made creations , words can be easily faked, you can’t say if someone considers spending time with you as ‘quality time’ or just 'wasting time’, and acts of service? It’s something Lilia has already given to many for free over the yesrs, so it’ll be no big deal.

He wants to give you the best he can ever give a special one, and that’d be directly showing love to you. Not that he’d always go wild with it, it might just be you sleeping on his lap after a long day or kissing you on the forehead when you tell him how much you love him. The question is, how wild do you want him to be?

Receiving: Words of affirmation

He can’t deny the fact that he finds pleasure in being phrased again after all these years. It’s rare for him to be judged as anything else than weirdo or sassy grandpa these days; so if you are going to be the one doing otherwise he’d make sure to take the opportunity.

He wants to bahave as he wishes to, anything he enjoys doing even when others consider him a weirdo because of them. So he doesn’t really mind others shallowing his wise sides because of his late wild habits.

If you can still get to see his hidden strength and intelligence, you’re surely something. Lilia would love their darling to try not to judge them based on appearance but rather personality; to be able to see his true brilliance. Phrasing might somehow end up in being worshiped but he doesn’t mind it at all, keep going. The more you say , the more he likes. But, don’t let it get to the point of him taking advantage of you, giving him -too much- power isn’t always a good idea.

Silver

Giving: Acts of service

That’s what he’s got to do, protecting you at all cost. You mean the world to him and he’s ready to give up on his all for you. Doesn’t matter what you’re having a problem with, he must help you with it and make sure to make a progress through it.

He might sometimes be overly protective due to his concerns, but don’t hold him back when he is. He just means to help you. He’d normally escort you to the classes and back to your dorm whenever he’s free, even if you insist on that being unnecessary since you can take care of yourself, but he isn’t hearing a word of it. One can never be too prepared.

His will to protect you cannot be measured by words , and his own self be the first he’d hate if anything bad ever happens to you.

Receiving: Quality time

He often decides to keep it in, but he does need someone to at least talk with.

He’s been raised by a fae and spent most of his life with far-from-humantity creatures; he didn’t ever get to have a real friend of his own specie, someone who wouldn’t judge or look down to him for being a human.

His darling would probably be someone who can make up for the pain and loneliness he’s been feeling over the years by giving him the love and attention he deserves. He isn’t asking for much , just having you around whenever he needs to will do. It’ll often end up with him falling asleep in your embrace but know that it’s going to be a peaceful sleep; nothing calms his busy mind down like you and your sweet words would do.

Sebek Zigvolt

Giving: Acts of service

He is doing his best; for his people, for Malleus, for you . He’s ready to kill or die whenever he needs to, he’s ready to lose it all because of you . He doesn’t care of hard it would be, he must protect and help you at all cost, all of you.

He might sound a bit dramatic over it but he does mean it when he says that doesn’t want to be alive without you. His existence is bound to yours , because he lives for you. He worships you. Even as his darling ends up being a bit toxic he can’t help but to obey like a good puppy.

He often goes to far with it but there’s no way of you changing this about him; it’s his nature to put those he truly cares for before himself. To him, the best way to show love is to prove your loyalty and reliability to your beloved, therefore they can trust you as their lover and ally.

Receiving: Words of affirmation

He is always working his hardest, yet the fear of not being enough keeps on hauting him. He may look rough on the outside, but he’s no more than a little anxious puppy on the inside.

A very single compliment from you is enough to make him drown in happiness and pride, knowing that you’re satisfied with how he’s doing as you motivate him to continue to get stronger. Let him know that you don’t want him to over work himself to the point of losing it; tell him that you love him as he is.

He tries not to show how your words make his heart melt but would always fail to. He doesn’t shout it out loud, but that’s in fact what he really wants : To be accepted, and loved.

[themurphyzone]

PatB: ‘Til the Last Petal Falls Ch 11

AN: Ok after a lighthearted romp in the snow fanfiction rules dictate that I must follow it up with something super angsty so MWAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAH

AO3 Link

Ch 11: The Nightmare

It had been several weeks since their first venture in the snow together. They’d expanded into several other winter-based activities since then, building all sorts of snow creatures, trying to make snow angels, ice skating…

Well, the Beast tried to forget his own clumsy attempt at ice skating. Pinky was a natural, sliding along the ice and pulling off jumps and other tricks with ease. After his first (and last) attempt to join Pinky in the middle of the frozen pond, he found he was more content to watch Pinky from the shore than risk the humiliation of constantly slipping like an infant who was learning to walk. 

They’d spent the entire afternoon trying to make a snow castle outside. Though the final creation was nothing more than a giant pile of shapeless snow, Pinky’s imagination had truly made it seem like it was a magnificent castle in a winter fairy kingdom. 

Now the sun had set, and the pair had just finished a dinner of sausages and cheese souffle. Their dessert plates were long cleared away by the serving staff, though neither of them were in a hurry to move, courtesy of their full stomachs. 

“Flavio really outdid himself this time!” Pinky said. He put a hand over his mouth and let out a tiny belch of satisfaction.  

“You say that after every meal,” the Beast replied. He tried to recline in his seat, but it was difficult to find a good position when his horns kept bumping into the wood. 

But he couldn’t disagree. There was no such thing as a bad dish when it was cooked by Flavio. 

Pinky leaned forward, his eyes flickering with interest.  

“I’ve told you a lot about me,” Pinky admitted. “But I don’t really know much about you.” 

While it was a true statement, Pinky’s spontaneous nature had once again caught the Beast off guard. 

The Beast’s claws dug into the table, wood shavings falling to the floor. 

You don’t need to know. It’s for the best, the Beast thought bitterly. 

“Drop the subject at once, Pinky. There’s nothing important you need to know,” the Beast growled. 

Don’t reveal anything personal unless it’s absolutely necessary. No matter how small, information in the wrong hands could be catastrophic. 

That fact had been hammered down as a hard truth, time and time again. Though it served as a caution when running an entire kingdom, it was just as applicable to the curse. 

Telling Pinky he had to fall in love with a monster would scare him off for good, and it was a risk the Beast refused to take when he was living on borrowed time. 

And he most certainly couldn’t tell Pinky about his former identity. Pinky would laugh at him. Imagine that, a genius losing his intelligence until he finally became an instinct-driven creature fueled by nothing more than rage and fear. Being smart was one of the few things he’d been good at, the cornerstone of his identity in a life so far removed from this current reality. 

Pinky frowned. “It doesn’t have to be anything big! You can just start with your favorite color, or-” 

“Forget it!” the Beast snarled. “You don’t think I know your agenda? You’re just warming up with the unimportant things before you start asking the questions you actually want answers to!”   

He'd seen this trick before. Too many times, he'd witnessed the nobility sidle up to someone, make small talk in the garden or parlor, pretend to be interested, then strike the moment an opportunity arose. 

Pinky folded his arms, his eyes blazing. “I don’t have a gender-a! I just wanna know more about you!” 

“There’s nothing worth knowing about me!” the Beast growled. 

“Well, maybe if you weren’t so closed off all the time, you’d-” 

This conversation was over. With a snarl of frustration to shut Pinky’s retorts down, he leapt down to the floor and stalked out of the dining room. He ignored the bewildered looks from the servants, some of whom were likely eavesdropping into the argument when they were supposed to be working. 

He slammed the door to the West Wing, and the entire room shuddered at the force.  

A wrinkled petal broke off the rose, joining its dead brethren on the table.  

And all the progress he thought he’d made was gone. 

o-o-o-o-o 

He awoke to a starless, moonless night above him. Strange. The West Wing didn’t have an open roof. He'd stormed off to sleep alone after…after he'd yelled at Pinky. 

For just trying to get to know him. 

He shouldn't have yelled or accused him of any tricks. It was entirely unwarranted, he knew. 

The questions would start out trivial, if somewhat annoying, but there were some answers he could give without giving away anything too personal. 

But then Pinky might start asking for the Beast's entire life story, where he was born, his parents, and the Beast had not prepared counters against those questions.

He couldn't give any of those details without first revealing that he was a prince. 

A dignified prince transformed into a feral monster. 

How was he supposed to confess that to Pinky? 

Oh by the way, I'm actually a cursed prince who dragged all his innocent servants into a punishment they never deserved and the only way to break the enchantment is for you to fall in love with me before the rose loses all its petals. 

Yeah, he was sure that would go over well. 

But even though he couldn't exactly say that to Pinky, he realized that he couldn't exactly blame Pinky for being curious about him. After all, he'd been curious about Pinky too. 

He suppressed the part of him that insisted Pinky should apologize first for being nosy. 

It wasn't easy to swallow what little remained of his pride, but maybe he at least owed Pinky an explanation. 

And…an apology. 

He tried to stand up as he mentally prepared himself for that conversation, only to tumble to the ground. That was…strange. He’d been doing better as a bipedal lately, occasionally switching to a more quadrupedal stance if he needed to move faster because Pinky often ran circles around him. 

He pushed himself up again, only for the palms of his hands to slam down on crumbled stone scattered on the savaged, threadbare carpet. 

What happened? He couldn’t stand at all?

And where was all this stone coming from? 

Pebbles and dust rained down just ahead of him, and he gasped at the enormous hole in the ceiling, which only grew bigger with every passing second. Cracks splintered the stone walls, a terrible rumbling sound filling his ears. Outside, the entire balcony broke off and fell into the deep abyss below. And the floor around it was starting to follow.  

The entire West Wing was about to crumble! 

He was halfway out the door when he suddenly remembered the rose. He couldn’t afford to let it be destroyed! 

With a clumsy attempt at a turn, he rushed towards the table where the rose and the mirror laid. Half the room was buried in rubble now. He could only save one object, not both. 

In the end, it wasn’t a tough choice to make. The rose was his priority. Quickly lifting the glass dome, he snatched up the rose and held it to his chest as he hurried out of the West Wing on three limbs. He heard the cracking of glass behind him as a stone crushed the mirror several seconds after he took the rose. 

The West Wing doors slammed shut behind him, nearly clipping his tail as he fled into the hallway. The cracking and rumbling of falling stone filled the air, until there was one final, mighty crash. 

And all was silent.  

He sighed in relief, though he didn’t dare go back to the West Wing when the entire room was lost. 

Now he just had to find a new hiding place for the ro-  

A crushed petal slipped from his fist, lifelessly falling to the ground. 

“No,” the Beast whispered, staring at the blood-red petal in horror. His hand trembled, half of another crushed petal joining the first. “NO!” 

He recoiled as sharp thorns pricked his hand, yet the physical pain was incomparable to the agony of seeing the dead and withered rose before him as he opened his hand. 

In his hasty escape, he had grabbed the enchanted rose by the bloom rather than the stem. The rose had lost its mysterious glow, and was nothing more than a crushed flower in a monster’s grasp. And once again, a single act of carelessness had cost him everything.   

Now there was truly no hope of escape. No way to regain his crown, his throne, or his kingdom. 

The curse was permanent. 

He was forever condemned to live as a beast, and his servants were…oh god, his servants….

Where were they? The castle had fallen deathly silent. Where were the protests of the Warners as Scratchy attempted to assign them chores? Or the sight of Mindy venturing somewhere she shouldn’t, followed closely by Buttons? The smells of delicious food from Flavio, or the rustling of fabric from Marita? 

The rose forgotten, he hurried down the hallway, his heart racing as his paws slammed against the stone floors. 

The numerous gargoyles were nothing more than rubble, beaks and wings and horns crumbling to dust and ash. Though the Beast was above silly superstition, even he couldn't help but feel exposed and unprotected at the loss of the castle guardians. Even the mightiest and largest of the guardians, a gargoyle aptly and affectionately named Goliath, was nothing more than a pile of broken, lifeless rocks. 

Among the remains of the gargoyles was a large pile of gray and white feathers, covered with dust. The Beast stared down at the pile, hesitantly brushing the feathers aside to reveal three pieces of splintered wood. 

The broken beaks…the lifeless winglike appendages…

These were…

Heart pounding, the Beast turned away from the mess and hurried down the hallway, desperate for any sign of life. 

He’d never been close to the Goodfeathers, for they were just a trio of unlucky pigeons who happened to be roosting on the castle when the curse was cast and weren’t officially his servants like the others were. 

But he didn’t wish this fate on them, nor anybody else. 

Tapestries fell from the walls, paintings cracked in half. Noble, armored knights rusted and decayed, their weapons dulled from time and disuse. 

The destruction kept pace with him. It didn’t matter which way he turned or how hard he tried to outrun it. The roof continued to cave in, holes appearing along the floor wherever he placed his paws. 

In the parlor, two broken footstools laid side by side. One was keeled over completely, numerous tassels strewn around the legs. A Christmas ornament and a porcelain doll had fallen next to them. Their dresses were torn and ripped, the halo missing from the ornament while the doll’s delicate skin was chipped off. The doll was missing an eye, but her remaining one bored through the Beast like a dagger. 

Rita was silenced. Runt was far too still. Buttons could no longer protect Mindy’s fragile body from harm. 

A cold wind blew through what remained of the fireplace, extinguishing the tiny flame that tried to burn in vain. 

The Beast quickly fled, though he couldn’t banish that blank, accusatory glare from his mind.

The destruction of the castle was more severe in this area. Entire walls had been stripped away, the very foundation falling into the abyss below. Several chipped buckets and brooms with their bristles half-missing tried to flee, but were swept in the wave of devastation and plunged into darkness, never to be seen again. 

The Beast was too far away to save them, yet their screams echoed in his ears, the same way they’d done five years ago on the night the curse was cast. 

He couldn't cry. Crying signaled weakness. It had been one of the first lessons ever drilled into his head, from a life that no longer belonged to him. 

His vision blurred, legs shaking as he rushed through the castle in desperation for someone to save. And even then, his thoughts were all disappearing. All of them replaced by a basic, primal need for self-preservation. 

Telling him to save himself, and leave everyone behind. 

But he couldn't give into that urge. 

Not when the castle desperately needed him to lead. 

He tried not to think about how the only thing he'd led them to was complete ruination. 

Priceless artifacts shattered. Precious metals rusted over. Nothing was safe. From the mightiest organ to the tiniest teaspoon, from the noblest knight to the youngest apprentice, and the fanciest wardrobe to the simplest needle, all would fall victim to the curse in the end. 

And next to the library entrance laid a rusted candelabra, a golden sheen now faded to dull brown. And next to the candelabra was a small mantle clock with half its clock face missing, the pendulum broken. One of the arms hung at a crooked angle. 

But the one in the worst shape was the floral patterned teacup, laying in tiny, shattered fragments on the floor. 

All three were still together, even in their terrible fate. He couldn't envision them being separated at all. 

Yakko, Wakko, and Dot, the ones who'd kept their hopes alive for all this time, were dead. 

Numbly, he stared down at the lifeless bodies before him. 

Lives shortened and wasted…because of him. 

Who led the most worthless, meaningless life out of them all. 

"Beast?" 

And there stood Pinky, alive and miraculously unharmed. The Beast nearly moved towards him, relieved to see that someone had escaped the castle’s collapse. 

Only to stop, for there was a fearful expression on Pinky’s face. His hands were close to his body, his ears pulled back. 

Frozen in place like a deer, but ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. 

Horrified, the Beast stepped back. He’d scared Pinky again. But there was no recovery from this. 

Pinky had every right to be scared of a mindless beast who destroyed everything he ever touched. If he was smart, he’d flee for his own safety and never look back. 

“Please wake up,” a shaky voice whispered. “You’re having a bad dream, Beast.” 

But Pinky took a step forward, then another. He moved slowly, hands stretched out towards the Beast. 

He didn’t understand. Not even a warning growl was enough to deter Pinky. 

Stay away, the Beast wanted to say. But words failed him, and he could only make pitiful noises in a poor attempt at language. He couldn’t even warn Pinky to run before he was swept away in all the destruction. 

Then a pair of arms wrapped around his torso, and he gasped and froze at the sudden touch. 

A body pressed against him. Soft and warm, a gentle presence to counter his turmoil. 

A hand reached up, brushing against his cheek with a featherlight touch. 

Was this real? Or a dream born out of desperation? 

Reality had never been this kind to him. Neither had his dreams. But the gentle pressure, the whispers of reassurance, this peaceful feeling as fingers threaded through his fur…maybe his subconscious was finally taking pity on him. 

Maybe he was finally having a good dream to hold onto. 

"Oh good, it's finally working," a female voice said in relief. 

"Definitely, definitely working," another voice yipped. 

There were more? 

But…everyone was gone. The only ones left were himself and Pinky. 

Right? 

"Alright, looks like Pinky's got it. Back to the cupboard, you two. And remember that I call dibs on the top shelf!" 

"You had the top shelf for the past three nights, Yakko! It's my turn!" 

Yakko and Dot were alive? But where was… 

"You guys never let me have the top shelf…" 

Wakko! 

But…he saw their inanimate remains, cold and lifeless on the floor. 

Yet he heard their voices so clearly. Could it be possible that the horrible vision he had wasn’t real after all? 

He didn’t know, but a soothing voice, one that was clearer and louder than the others and his own doubts and fears, broke through the fog his mind was trapped in. 

“Everyone’s here, I promise. Just open your eyes, Beast.”

Promises were made to be broken. He should know that better than anyone, with his constant failures to break the curse on his own terms and never succeeding. 

But he’d heard this very voice make a promise to heal him instead of leaving him at the mercy of the elements. Pinky hadn’t lied then, making good on his word. 

So…he believed Pinky now. 

The Beast opened his eyes, raising his head to get a better look at his surroundings. The castle wasn’t crumbling to rubble, the stone foundation still intact and whole. While dust and cobwebs weren’t ideal, it was still far better than the alternative. 

The servants kept their distance, but they seemed relieved. 

Pinky's hand slipped off the Beast's cheek, the gentle touch lingering behind. The sensation was strange. He was still trying to get used to Pinky's touch, even after several weeks of cohabitation. 

It was difficult for him to fathom why Pinky would willingly do so. His parents, nor anyone else of similar standing, would express themselves so casually. 

And the servants who freely gave their affection away were currently denied the pleasure of each other's warmth. 

So what right did he have to this embrace? Why was he the only one who could actually feel physical touch when he never desired nor deserved these feel-good sensations in the first place? 

The servants were still watching him. The Beast stepped away from Pinky with a growl of trepidation. He wasn’t in the mood to be scrutinized right now. 

“So how are you doing? We were getting a bit worried,” Squit piped up, his tone way too cheerful for the current atmosphere. 

“Worried?” Pesto scoffed, thrusting his wooden beak into Squit’s as he furiously flapped his featherlike appendages. “Are you saying I was worried about the jerk who woke me up just as I was gettin’ all cozy with this pretty lark on the palace of Versailles?” 

“Well, I-” Squit’s protest was cut off by a furious bark from Buttons, who was somehow glaring (how he could glare without a face was unknown), at Pesto while herding Mindy away to a nearby room. With a wooden leg, Buttons made the universal I’ve-got-my-eye-on-you gesture and disappeared around the corner. 

“Goodnight, everybody!” Yakko said, blowing a kiss. “And I mean it this time. Bonne nuit, buenas noches, guten abend-” 

“Much as I love the impromptu language lesson, you might wanna stake your claim to the top shelf before Wakko and Dot steal it from you,” Rita interrupted. 

Yakko’s smug grin vanished as he realized that his siblings had snuck off without him in an attempt to finally steal the top shelf for themselves. He quickly waved goodbye to Pinky, who returned the gesture and laughed when Yakko left a cloud of dust behind as he dashed off towards the kitchen. 

One by one, the other servants returned to their sleeping areas now that the crisis was over, leaving him and Pinky alone in the hallway. 

The Beast wished the servants had stuck around longer. Their familiar banter and camaraderie was occasionally a welcome reprieve to fill in the silence, before his thoughts became too much for him to bear. 

He stared down at his clawed hands, embarrassment washing over him as he realized that he was still hunched over in a primal stance. 

Pinky was watching. 

The Beast looked away. If he couldn’t repress these feral instincts, then he could forget about breaking the curse. No sane person would ever select a partner like that. 

“...I’m sorry,” the Beast rasped, his voice hoarse from disuse. 

“It’s okay,” Pinky said, giving him a tiny, reassuring smile. But the Beast could see the worry in his eyes. “I know it must’ve been a really scary dream. Poit. Um…you wanna talk about it, or-” 

The Beast stubbornly remained silent. Revealing the contents of his nightmare would force him to admit the origin of the curse. 

That everything had fallen apart because he'd carelessly crushed the rose and-

The rose! 

The Beast suddenly found it hard to breathe. He'd felt the sting of thorns in his hand, saw the soft, crimson petals fluttering to the floor. 

Yet it stood to reason that if the castle was still intact and his servants were very much alive, then maybe there was a chance that he'd never destroyed the rose after all? 

Only one way to be sure though. 

"I…I have to go back to the West Wing at once," the Beast said, trying to keep his voice steady and failing miserably. He turned around, only making it halfway down the hall before looking over his shoulder at Pinky, who simply watched him with a worried expression. 

“By yourself?” Pinky asked softly. 

Well, yes. He was used to it by now. 

There was a line between himself and the servants that could not be crossed. The class divide and their physical differences were far too great. 

But ever since Pinky’s arrival, he started to wonder if the strict hierarchy that royalty and nobility enforced was truly right. 

In hindsight, the caste system had left him lonelier than he cared to admit. 

Maybe I don’t have to be though. 

“It won’t take long,” the Beast said. “You can wait for me by Hugo. I…I don’t want to sleep in the West Wing tonight.” 

Pinky’s ears and tail perked at the invitation, his sky-blue eyes lighting up once again. 

How such a simple thing could make Pinky happy, he wasn’t sure. But he would gladly take the happiness over tears. He never knew what to do when Pinky cried. 

Pinky caught up to the Beast, his hand stretched out towards him. The Beast hesitated, but at Pinky’s encouraging smile, he slowly enveloped Pinky’s hand with his own. Then Pinky hauled him to his feet with that unusual strength of his. 

The Beast nearly toppled onto Pinky, not expecting the swift movement, but he quickly regained his footing. 

Despite the Beast’s need to check on the rose, he didn’t feel a sense of urgency in doing so now that he was holding Pinky’s hand. 

He’d experienced Pinky’s touch so often in these past few weeks, and it never failed to astound the Beast that their proximity never bothered him, who had all right to be afraid. 

Pinky hummed a simple tune as they walked down the corridor hand-in-hand. The Beast felt every bounce to Pinky’s step, every motion of Pinky’s fingers within his paw. How Pinky could possibly trust him to not break his fingers was beyond him, but somehow endearing as well. 

Maybe Pinky deserved to get some of his questions answered. Not the inquiries into the Beast’s past, but some of the more impersonal ones that didn’t require any emotional investment. 

“...if you must know, my favorite color is purple,” the Beast said. Then he regretted it, wishing he could’ve had a better segue into talking about colors instead of blurting it out randomly. Still though, he wasn’t lying. Purple was a refined and elegant color in addition to the emblem of royalty. “What about you?” 

“Mine’s yellow,” Pinky smiled. He accepted the topic without protest, much to the Beast’s relief. 

Wait, really? 

The Beast stared at him in surprise. “I thought you would say pink.” 

“Narf! Well, I really love pink and the other colors too! But sunshine yellow is the happiest of them all!” Pinky exclaimed, his tail wagging from under his nightgown. 

There was logic in Pinky favoring a bright color, given his cheerful nature. 

“I should’ve called you Yellowy from the start,” the Beast huffed. Then he cringed internally, not realizing how terrible his poor attempt at a joke was until it slipped out. 

To his surprise, Pinky laughed. It was loud and happy and bright, and the Beast could only stare in wonder at Pinky as the laughter made every inch of his body shake in pure joy. 

I did that, the Beast’s thoughts soaring alongside his hopes for the curse to be lifted. I actually made somebody laugh.

He’d never done that before, and he drew satisfaction in such a simple accomplishment. Making Pinky laugh wasn’t a world-changing feat, but it felt much more important than any laws he could ever sign.   

They reached the gargoyle-filled hall that led straight into the West Wing far sooner than the Beast would’ve liked, and Pinky ceased his laughter as they approached Hugo the gargoyle. A red ribbon fluttered from his horn, a tiny spider crawling around on his piggish snout. 

The oppressive dread returned, forcefully reminding him of the rose’s existence. He needed Pinky’s love, not his laughter, to break the curse. It wasn’t enough. 

It was a callous notion, especially after Pinky had kindly coaxed him out of the nightmare.  

He just had to keep asking for more.  

“Here we are,” Pinky whispered. “You’re going in?”  

The Beast nodded. It was strangely difficult for him to release Pinky’s hand.

He almost asked Pinky to come inside the West Wing with him, just so he wouldn’t be alone in this task. 

Almost.  

It wasn’t that he completely distrusted Pinky. 

But there were too many secrets hidden within the West Wing, and the Beast didn’t want Pinky to see them right now. No, he just wasn’t ready yet. 

Time was not on his side. 

But…he couldn’t. He just couldn’t. 

The West Wing doors were wide open. He must’ve left them that way when he was in the stranglehold of his nightmare. 

He debated closing them in case Pinky got the bright idea of peeking in, but he dismissed that thought instantly. Pinky wouldn’t break his promise not to go into the West Wing without express permission again. He wasn’t the lying type. 

In the end, the Beast left the door halfway open. The rose wasn’t visible from the entrance, but he would rather give himself some privacy while assuring Pinky that he would come out again. 

With that matter settled, he carefully stepped over the debris that littered the West Wing. He passed the slashed portrait, the ripped curtains, broken ceramics and splintered wood he’d destroyed in fits of rage. 

He’d spent some time trying to clean up the mess, but he hadn’t even scratched the surface of the damages. Perhaps he could task a select group of servants to help speed up the process, but this felt like something he had to do for himself. 

As derelict as the West Wing was, the roof hadn’t caved in, the balcony was attached, and the walls were sturdy. 

But it wasn’t until he saw the enchanted rose intact that he was truly relieved. Under the glass dome, the mysterious glow hadn’t diminished. Dead petals were still scattered on the table, but there were many more still attached to the stem. The stem’s tip had started to droop, a reminder that while hope was not lost yet, he didn’t have an unlimited amount of time either. 

But the rose was safe and protected. 

Now that he had physical proof that he hadn’t destroyed the rose after all, he picked up the mirror next. He usually placed a paw over the surface when he picked up the mirror, just so he wouldn’t have to confront his reflection. 

This time was different though. 

He couldn’t hide away forever…no matter how much he wanted to. 

So he looked at his image, realizing that if Pinky didn’t flinch away at his horns and fangs, maybe he could be brave enough to do the same. 

“Show me my servants.” 

He averted his gaze as the mirror flashed green, then cleared to show an image of Dot triumphantly standing on the top shelf of the cupboard, while a grumpy Yakko leaned against the wall, upset that his spot had been stolen. Then the image panned over to Flavio pouring a kettle full of hot water into a teapot. Then Wakko waddled into the frame, leading a group of teacups, saucers, and tiny spoons onto a cart. 

The image changed to Marita dictating a letter to her sweetheart with the help of a quill and inkwell. 

Hello Nurse wrapped bandages around the tip of a broom handle, while Scratchinsniff stuffed cotton and feathers into what remained of his cushion. 

The Goodfeathers roosted on Laverne. Buttons trying to get Mindy settled for bed while Rita sleepily told off Runt for riling her up to play. 

Everyone was alive and safe. That terrible burden was lifted off his shoulders.  

“Pinky. Show me Pinky,” the Beast whispered.

When the mirror showed Pinky out in the hallway, still waiting for him to come back, he knew where he wanted to be. 

He put the mirror down and left the West Wing, closing the door behind him. Upon the Beast’s approach, Pinky leapt with joy and greeted him with a smile and a shout that could light up the darkest night. 

And it was nice. 

End AN: 

This chapter was super angsty. There was gonna be a part at the end with Pinky and the Beast drinking tea in the library, but I didn’t like how that portion turned out so it was cut (the tea Flavio and Wakko were putting together was sent to them as a comfort measure). 

In the Broadway musical and 2017 movie, the servants become fully inanimate and die when the last petal falls. I personally never liked this plot point because it makes Beast releasing Belle a bit iffy for me. So I’m only using it for a dream scenario. 

There is one thing that sadly didn’t make it into the chapter, and that was the Beast using his cloak to cover a sleeping Pinky as a thank you. Maybe in a future installment I’ll be able to squeeze it in there. 

The Yellowy joke is...kinda bad. But I had fun with it lol. 

[crimsonfluidessence]

Prompt 21: Feckless

Content Warning: Torture, Intense Psychological Warfare, Body Harm, Physical and Emotional Abuse It was just supposed to be getting his money back. That was all he wanted out of the woman. But oh, how quickly it had turned to seeing some of the purest forms of red Esredes was capable of seeing. Being pickpocketed in Ul'dah was to be expected to happen eventually- inconvenient that it occurred while he was trying to get supplies for his family, but just a detour to follow the woman into a more secluded space and request his money back. No big deal. He had his ability to cloak himself with an illusion, and so she didn't see him following her down past that door behind the Miner's guild and into an alley. He watched her begin to count his money with a smile on her face and a whisper of "Oh, yes." Just a common pickpocket. No need to escalate anything. "All right, little lady." He began, the illusion still disguising him, causing the woman to freeze and look around trying to locate his voice. Just to make it worse, he began pacing all around to make it more confusing as he spoke next. "Cute. Real cute little move you pulled back there, but I have places to be and so do you, no? Just give it back without trying anything and I'll leave. I'd rather not have anything unpleasant happen today now." "Who are you and what little move?" The woman hissed and tightened her hold on his gil pouch. "Don't play dumb with me, ma'am. Give me my gil back, please. Just toss it out in front of you." "This? Mine from the start," she retorted as she closed it up and put it away, then dashed past him and tried to run away. Esredes raised his hand up and fired a pink beam at the retreating woman's head without a second thought. The woman cursed sharply and she doubled back as her balance faltered, sliding a dagger out of her pocket to slash at the air. "What the hell are you?" With ease, Esredes moved behind her and rammed his sword handle into her upper back. She grunted and stumbled forward, then fell to the ground, the dagger clattering on the stone a good two feet away. She didn't get much time to struggle to get up before he knelt down and pinned her body under his legs, his sword arm securing her at the back as well. "For fuck's sake, Priya." The woman muttered under her breath as she found herself trapped. "Someone who wanted to mind his own fucking business and ask you nicely not to waste our time." Esredes finally answered her question as he retrieved the gil pouch from her pocket. The woman tried to fight back under his weight, but she was getting nowhere. She lashed a hand out to bat him away from her pocket, but Esredes lengthened his hand to form claws and slashed at it, and she tucked it back inside herself as he pushed down more with his sword. "You know, is it not a rule of thievery to fold it when you've bitten off more than you could chew? You'd do best to learn it." "As if you'd know," she spat out. "Leave me alone; it isn't like you'd need any of it!" "I was completely content to leave you alone before you pickpocketed me, thank you very much. And you don't know anything about me, little lady, so fuck off with that. You're not giving me any incentive to not report you right about now- what did you call yourself? Priya? Pretty name for a vicious little rat," Esredes remarked. "If you've eyes, this city doesn' do handouts." Esredes paused, her reply passing him over. Priya... why did the woman's name sound faintly familiar? Enough to bug him even through his tendency to forget names? It had to mean something, be from somewhere, but he didn't know a lot of people from Ul'dah... But someone he had interacted with a lot recently did, and... Esredes' eyes widened. Yes, it had been Elouan who mentioned that name to him during their most recent therapy session. The name of an ex of his who had beaten him for not making her enough money. Just a common pickpocket. Now she was also the woman who hurt his sunflower. "...Say, you must do this a lot, hm? Trying to get your way into money by any scummy means possible? Do you remember Elouan?" Priya froze at Elouan's name, but soon shifted into a smile that did not ease Esredes in the slightest. "Elouan? Dumber than a rock? What, isn't he dead?" "My gods," Esredes said. So it was true. This was the same woman and not a coincidence. The black heart in his chest pulsed hard, and dark, inky matter quickly spread through his insides. He moved his sword hand up and hit her on the side of the head with its handle. "I thought you were a simple thief, but no, you truly are a disgusting little parasite under there, aren't you? Shut the fuck up about handouts, I know what this city is, but you don't deserve them even if they existed. I show no sympathy towards an exploitative and manipulative abusive little monster like you. Oh, today is not going to be your day, little monster lady." He never did change his other hand back down- in its full display of rough and leathery skin she couldn't see, he wrapped it around her throat and pressed lightly. "Have you any idea how much you have to answer for?" Priya let out a soft noise and struggled much more aggressively now, clawing at the leathery hand with her own. "Hh--Answer? I'm answering to nothing. Call me what you want, I don't care. If you're calling me a monster, what're you?" With no eyes to find, she couldn't make eye contact, but she still shot quite the devilish look. "So he isn't dead, is he? Such a shame; I thought the 'yotes outside of Ul'Dah got him! It wasn't like he was worth much with the bets..." The inky matter only kept spreading. "He's worth far more than your pathetic, greedy little ass will ever be. But you wouldn't know anything about the worth of people because all they are to you is an ends for money, hmm?" He drew a line of blood across her throat. "I should fucking kill you. No one would be around to even notice your corpse or look for you, would they, hmm?" The woman laughed, even despite the pain. "You should? What's stopping--? No, who's stopping you? Elouan? That dumbass? Have you ever seen him come back from a loss down there? Do you know what it's like to not have any gil? Anything?" She spat at him and continued trying to fight, but his grip remained iron. "Shut the fuck up." Esredes ran his blade lightly across her forehead. She moved her hands to the ground and tried propelling herself up, but she couldn't even upset his balance. "To answer your question? Yes, I do. That's no fucking excuse to beat a man up who is willing to mutilate himself and risk his life for a woman who doesn't even consider him above maggots. He loved you because he didn't know better, didn't want to accept the evils of people, and you felt nothing." Her body tensed up and her eyes became even more hostile. "You don't have anything, no, a heart or any redeeming qualities included. You're a street rat who deserves to writhe in filth, because no part of you deserves even a single piece of gil! And to answer your other question?" He decided now was time to flicker back into existence before her eyes, his pupils compressed to slivers and sharp teeth grinning as he leaned in close to her face. "Well, if no one will find the body, I suppose nothing at all is stopping me, hm?" "He wasn't worth it. You're all talk and you still hesitate," she snickered at him. "You're still hesitating because of him, aren't you? Because you're just as weak. He wasn't fit to live long, y'know. Probably still isn't, too." "Oh, I'm not hesitating because I'm weak," Esredes smiled and pressed back hard against her struggle attempt with his sword and body, leaning even further in. "I'm hesitating because you're not getting off that easy after all you've done." He pressed harder on her throat and dug his thumb claw into it harder. "We're only getting started here. No one has made you answer for what you've done to him, and I am so glad we could meet for the occasion, unexpected as it is. Tell me, do you think you look good in red?" There was barely the shape of a creature below him by this point, just red. He ran his claws down her face, he ran his blade down both of her arms, he slapped her, all while taunting her about what a pathetic creature she was. "Get OFF," she soon shouted. "Oh, I'm sorry, you want me off?" His eyes widened for her. "Did you listen when Elouan asked you that, hmm?! Did you stop hitting him for things that were your fucking fault?!" She bit her lip and clenched her fists, shaking. "My fault? Who was the one that lost bets? Who was the one that just had to stop because it was 'too much'? Me? No; it was him!" There was venom in her words, and a lot of it. "One hit wasn't enough for him and you know that, don't you? You have to keep drilling it into his fuckin' head. He couldn't even find his way to the aetheryte even if he was fifteen fulms from the thing!" Esredes almost couldn't believe the things coming out of this rodent's mouth. "You're fucking disgusting. And wrong, on top of that." He hit her with his sword handle again. "No, your problem is that you're an impatient, selfish little aggressive piece of shit. If you actually had an ounce of patience and kindness that wasn't faked to all hell, you'd know the man can listen and learn quite fine if you explain it to him well enough. But you're not capable of that because you're not smart enough for such things and you don't actually bother to learn a thing about how people actually work. Maybe if you had the consideration outside of yourself for it, you wouldn't be stuck here pickpocketing people like a street rat, hm? People don't bend over for vicious worthless scheming selfish lowlives like yourself. You will never get anywhere in life. You cry so fucking much about how you have nothing, but in all your years of exploiting and robbing people, you still have absolutely nothing. I don't think you have anyone to blame but yourself at that point. You will die filthy, worthless, and alone, and no one is going to miss the dirt on the side of the street. Now, how many hits will it take for you to get it into your head, hm?" He punched her once. Twice. Three times. Four times. The last punch managed to make her wheeze, and she shut her eyes. "When is ever enough for you?!" "...enough," she said at last. "Enough!" His fist was raised for another blow, but he grinned at hearing the word out of her. "Ah. She did it. She is capable of having enough." He laughed for a solid few seconds. "For the first time in your life, something is enough. How does it feel, hm?" She wrinkled her nose, and tried to muster one last kick, but couldn't even. She said nothing, reaching up to try and pull his hand off her with trembling hands. Esredes took her hand and held it up by the wrist, staring at it. "Look at it. So weak, so small, so pathetic. If you'd held on to someone like Elouan and actually loved him, he'd protect you from something like this, you know. As is, you're not strong enough to protect or help yourself alone. And you never will be. You're a cold, vulnerable little lady in a harsh world, and your only response is to make it so your own existence has no justification for itself."

He wasn't done. He wasn't anywhere near done yet. He kept on going, tearing into her with more wounds. He even took his little pair of scissors he used to cut his emergency supply of gauze and cut away at her hair.  She kept helplessly trying to fight back, kept trying to scream at him to stop or go away. "I'm not going anywhere yet, little lady." He eventually said, grinning as he ran a clawed finger down her face. It was gentle enough not to draw blood, and she shivered under it. "Because I am your nightmare, I am the harbinger that comes for naughty little ladies who need to be a taught a lesson about the cruelty of their own heart." He then slapped her again, and continued cutting her hair. "You want to be a cruel and heartless beast to people who don't deserve it? Well, tell me, is it worth it? Is it worth it to sit here trapped in a reflection of your own cruelty and be content to bleed out in the darkness?" "Why should I talk about worth with you?" The venom and bite of her words had gone; she no longer had the energy for it, it seemed. It wasn’t long before she even started producing tears in her eyes. "Aww," Esredes said in a low, mocking voice. "Does the beast want to cry now? Cry like you made Elouan do countless times? It didn't mean a damn thing to you. Your tears are nothing to me." “I don’t care,” she said in a low and rough voice. "Don't care about you 'n what you say." "Then why are you crying?" "I'm not crying." Tears were treading down her cheeks. "Lady, look at your own goddamn face. You can't even hold it in. Is this too much for the poor little snake to handle, hmm? You're breaking this easily? And to think, Elouan survived multiple beatings from you, and you can't even handle this. Who's supposed to be the weak one again?" "Just shut up!" She croaked in a broken voice. "Shut up! This is pointless! Leave me alone. You've got what you wanted. You've gotten more than what you wanted already," even when she shut her eyes, the tears did not stop. "This is not enough." Venom dripped into his voice. "This is nothing to what you did to him. You can wish for it to stop all you want, but that never helped him, and it's not going to help you, either. Cry all you want, it only makes this all the sweeter. You get everything that you deserve." "He's just another pet of the sands, don't you see?“ The woman said through her shaky voice. "I thought I'd be better with more than what the trade offered. I couldn't start off without--without that." "And? And? That gives you free reign to crush his heart and body for not doing every little thing perfectly for you? When this man was willing to give you all of his love and torment himself far too much for you? You know, pickpocketing a man with a voice like mine? Fair enough, I know what city I walked into. But that? That as your excuse to be cruel in pursuit of money? No. No. Here, little lady. Answer me one little thing. Do you do all of this alone, in the true sense? Do you ever have a person to your name who isn't a tool you discard?" She finally opened her eyes again, staring at her hair on the ground. "Alone? Why'd I do it with anyone else? We're all just tools for anyone else to use--you either climb the ladder or get stuck in the lion's den. He was--he was too fuckin' much! His whining, his talking, his forgetfulness. All I wanted was gil for myself 'n business. Not the thing behind it." It wasn’t every day Esredes held true evil in his hands, trapped in his talons like a snake to an eagle. But hearing her twisted explanation only further caused his heart to rage in hatred. "Good. Fucking. Lord." He said. "People like you are the kind I despise the most. Your entire philosophy is so fucking stupid at its core, and all of you claim it's the most intelligent thing ever. I'll tell you a little story. I too have had absolutely nothing at multiple points in my life." On he went snipping her hair as he talked. "Do you know how you get away from having absolutely nothing? Yes, you have to have sharp skills of self reliance and the ability to climb out yourself, but you can only get so far on your own. You need, and I mean truly need, other people in order to truly build yourself up past a certain point. This is why types like you either never make it or end up dead eventually when someone else brings you down. You only make your own life harder by approaching people so selfishly without anything to add to it. People will see right through you, they'll tear you apart without sympathy or mercy, because you don't offer anything to last with people beyond the short term. If you don't blow everything in the short term with other people, and they aren't people like you, you get rewarded for being good to them. People are more willing to help you out of bad situations without you needing to do a thing because they remember when you were there for them, therefore becoming much more viable and sustainable than a one time deal you blow and suffer the consequences. You really think the world is going to bend to your greedy little will because you want money? No. It won't. It doesn't fucking care, and you know this. Lady, I don't know why I have to be the one telling you this with how smart you think you are, but here's a simple lesson on how people work. People talk. People complain. People forget things. People are not perfect little devices for you to drain gil out of, they are incomplete and flawed things trying their best. And people aren't very useful if you can't follow the basic law of economics and make a fair trade. You'd think growing up here, you'd understand this. Now, my point is, I was alone with nothing. And now? I have enough that you don't want to know the number of people who fear me, little lady. I didn't get this way by draining gil out of people like a vampire. I had to give something of myself, I had to sacrifice, I had to bleed for other people first, but people don't forget what you do for them, or to them. Each person you meet is a powerful weapon in their own right, a valuable resource beyond just money they make. And only a fool would discard such power. You're just a weak, stupid little thief who will never make it because you don't even understand what it takes to get out of your situation. You'll forever be in the den because you fall off the ladder every single time. There is a place to be vicious, there is a place to be kind. But you wouldn't know the difference if it held you down and punched you repeatedly in the face. I truly hope you never make it in life. The world doesn't need more people like you. Your kind can only drain the world of its resources and make it a worse place, all while declaring that the world is the evil one. Well have you ever fucking thought of being something that isn't so deserving of the world's evils? Because here you are now, bleeding out and crying, while Elouan is somewhere safe, having escaped, and is much happier because he's with people who appreciate his kindness for what it is. You have nothing for others to see. No one will ever lift you up off of here, because you'll never, ever deserve it." The woman laid there and absorbed his verbal blows, still too weak to fight back in any way. Tears still streamed down her face. "So what if I don't deserve it? I don't care. I don't care, I don't want to care, I just--" "You just what, lady? What is it? What is it you want to scream out right about now?" Priya gritted her teeth and out came a strangled cry. "--I don't want to be here. I don't want people around me or in m'life. I don't want anyone close to me! I don't want to be hurt like I've hurt them. I just want to be.  Be dead? Fuckin' fine, do it already!“ "Is that seriously all you want from life? To be alone with money?" "What else? Money can't hurt me like they could." "Wow." Esredes said. "Just wow. You know, popular sayings exist for a reason. People who are alone with money are some of the people most likely to drink themselves or take drugs into dying. I grew up in Ishgard. Everyone in the noble circle has money and guess what? We're all still fucking miserable and want to die, broken empty shells of people. People still treat you like trash and shit no matter how nice you look and how perfectly polite your tone is. You still die empty and unfulfilled and ultimately meaningless. ...But you know this in some capacity, don't you?" He leaned down close to her face again, and she shut her eyes. "Is it not just because you want this to stop that you keep trying to taunt me into ending you, hmm? Are you sick enough of festering in your own shallow existence that you want to just spare the world the burden of you?" “You already know the answer, don’t you? I’ve got nothin’ to my name or kin! Why keep me around if that’s all I have, aye?” "Exactly. There's no reason at all." He smiled. "If I gave you your dagger back, would you be able to do it, hmm?" Priya kept sniffling. She opened her eyes and they landed on her dagger, past the scraps of her hair. "It'd be the one good thing you ever do in your life." He continued on. "You'd finally give back to the world, as your corpse decays and the nutrients can be absorbed to go to things more deserving of them..." “Stop talking,” she mumbled yet again. But Esredes only grinned. "Just think about it. No more waking up in pursuit of your empty desires. No more pickpocketing and feeding on scraps. Just the sweet embrace of nothing washing over you, finally an end to all the suffering. You won't be weak anymore. You won't have to feed for more, and more, and more... you will finally have enough." “I said stop.” "You'll never make it. So why keep trying? You're not smart enough to make it, you're not clever enough. You don't have what it takes. All you'll ever do is prolong your own agony, stuck in the same cycle, over and over and over... is that really a worthwhile existence?" “Stop it! Stop talking! I’ve enough of this and, gods, just stop.” The woman managed to shout, but it so quickly became shaky, weak, and small once more. "You keep telling me to stop because you know I'm right. You just don't want to admit it." He took the final strands of her hair and positioned the scissors around them. "One moment, you're here, writhing in your own filth, and the next..." Snip. She hissed. "Release. Catharsis. Nothing." He held the hair out to her to look at. "See, you have a golden opportunity. No one cares about you. No one will notice if you die. You have no burdens tying you down to this earthy plane, you can release yourself like a balloon and fly. Wouldn't that be so wonderful, to see the sky...?" “I won’t see shite,” she retorted with certainty, stretching her arm to try and reach the dagger, only for Esredes to move it further away with a rock. "Alas," he said. "If you do it later, I won't stop you- but for right now, it's not time yet.” He threw the hair to scatter about the tunnel. “All this talk for not yet? Bullshite!” "You're not deserving of a quick death, dearest. No one with a heart as cold and empty as yours is." It would still be some time before he finally let her go. Tied up and unable to escape the tunnel with that pouch of opioids on her- a perfect trapped creature for the local authorities of Ul’dah to pick up. It was not enough. He couldn���t make it enough no matter how little he held back, and he knew it. Nothing would make up for what she did to his beloved Elouan. He would never completely understand the local parasites of the world that pretended to be human like her. Why were they all so content to live a destructive life focused only on themselves? Were they so wrapped up in themselves they couldn’t notice how boring they were, how little and shallow of an existence it was? They would go on, intimidating or charming those around them to feed their selfish empire- but at their core, they were weak nothings, and Esredes saw them for what they were. “Sorry, it was very crowded at the market today. I couldn’t get everything.” Esredes said to his parents later. “I’ll get it all in the morning before I leave. It should be much easier to navigate…” ——— @shieldbcund Priya, Elouan

[makeste]

On your katsuki and Izuku meta I think what they both needed is to learn not everyone can think the same way as you like no one should place these impossible standards on themselves. Katsuki biggest weakness isn’t his need to win but his entrie selfish ego whitch blows up on him a lot and izuku biggest weakness is his lack of selfworth in himself that causes him to become reckless he doesn’t place any faith in himself.

one of the points I was actually trying to make is that I don’t think Deku actually has a problem with his own self-worth. @dimplesblogs had a great addition to my post where they pointed out the difference between self-worth, and self-confidence. I hope you don’t mind if I quote you here!

Something I see often in characterizations of Deku is that “lack of self-worth” and “lack of self-confidence” seem to get mixed up a lot.

- self-worth: a sense of one’s own value as a human being.

- self-confidence: confidence in oneself and in one’s powers and abilities.

and as they said, the two of them aren’t always mutually exclusive. but I do agree that in Deku’s case, it’s always been much more of the latter than the former.

Deku berates himself when he can’t save everyone not because he thinks he’s a failure, but because saving others is that important to him. that’s a life he couldn’t save. he can’t reconcile with the idea of that, and so he’s extra hard on himself because he’s frustrated. again, the parallels are right there with Katsuki. we saw that Katsuki ended up blaming himself after Kamino. but that doesn’t mean that Katsuki’s self-worth is inherently low (although I’ve certainly read plenty of takes arguing otherwise, and it’s an interesting topic to explore). it just means his expectations for himself are simply that high. and so he ends up taking on far more responsibility than any child should actually be trying to take upon themselves, because he doesn’t meet his own exceptionally high standards. his goal isn’t to “win most of the time”, it’s to win every time. he’s not aiming to simply be a great hero -- he’s aiming to be the greatest hero of all time. and because of that, even the littlest failure is going to hit him that much harder, to say nothing of an event like Kamino that basically upended society as we know it.

Katsuki did have an emotional crisis after Kamino, but it was a crisis of faith, of confidence, brought on by that one specific trauma. and once he talked it out with Deku and All Might (well, punched it out with Deku and then talked it out with All Might, lol), he moved past it. it was meant to be a stepping stone in the path of his character growth. it was great that we got all of that angst, don’t get me wrong, but ultimately it wasn’t something meant to be wallowed in, but overcome.

and it’s the same with Deku. I fully expect Deku to have a similar crisis of faith after this arc, brought on by the combination of him feeling responsible for other people getting hurt because of him (even though it’s not his fault he was being targeted), and him not having enough mastery over OFA to be able to protect them all. a lot of people got hurt -- a lot of people that he’s close to. Aizawa, Gran Torino, Todoroki, and Kacchan himself. and Deku desperately did not want that to happen, but he couldn’t stop it. and I don’t doubt he’s going to blame himself for that.

but that doesn’t mean he thinks of himself as worthless. that’s a long-running fandom interpretation that I happen to strongly disagree with. Deku is someone who persevered with his dream of becoming a hero for years, despite everyone telling him it was impossible. he may struggle at times with feeling like he might not be up to the gargantuan task of living up to All Might’s legacy, but that has less to do with his own self-worth, and more to do with him putting All Might up on a massive pedestal. and also the fact that he’s only a boy, and that is an enormous amount of responsibility. there’s a difference between having low self-worth, and being honest with yourself about just how far you still have to go.

and he’s basically being called upon to save the world now. and so he’s trying with everything he has to do that, and he gets anxious and frustrated and angry with himself when he fails (at times berating himself, in the same way that Katsuki called himself “weak”), not because he truly thinks he’s worthless, but because like Katsuki, he simply isn’t satisfied with anything less than living up to his own high standard. save everyone. not save most of the people. everyone. all of them. that’s the bar that he has set. and it’s the bar he’s determined to either reach or die trying.

and lastly, for the anon (actually multiple anons, but I didn’t post all of them) saying that’s naïve, I have to disagree with you. again, this is a superhero story. it’s a story about optimism and hope, about never giving up. Deku (who by the way absolutely does not have a lack of empathy, that’s a rather absurd claim lol; just because he yelled at Dabi after Dabi tried to set his friend and his mentor on fire doesn’t make him an apathetic monster who Doesn’t Care About The Villains’ Suffering, jesus. he’s out here trying to save Tomura even after Tomura stabbed his best friend and destroyed a city; where exactly do you get the notion that he doesn’t see the villains as human beings?) is the hero of the story precisely because he doesn’t give up on anybody. he wants to save everyone. you might call it naïve; I call it idealistic. it’s exactly the kind of crazy idealism that ends up winning the day in all of the best stories. BnHA isn’t some depressing narrative where the characters ultimately end up suffering all for naught. we’ve known exactly what this story is from day one. “this is the story of how I became a great hero.”

so yeah, I hope that clarifies some of my points a little better! while Deku may doubt himself at times (just like anyone in his shoes would doubt themselves), I really do think he just needs a little bit of encouragement right now, along with the reminder that he’s not in this alone. and possibly some sort of miracle broken bone elixir, and/or a couple of really sweet new robot limbs, depending on how that all plays out lol. anyways, but we’ll see.

[sinsbymanka]

Female Hawke/Varric Tethras + kiss prompt 'on a scar' and it's one of Hawke's scars? :3

Thank you for the prompt @serphena!! For @dadrunkwriting and in honor of my Varricmance March Madness...

The Crossbow Goes or I Do

Words: 2,104 Rating: Teen Chapter 1/1 Additional Tags: Pre-Relationship, They did their pining, ten years of it apparently, Mutual Pining, Idiots in Love, Mutually Unrequited, Friends to Lovers, Past Bianca Davri/Varric Tethras, Hawke is a menace, Mage Hawke (Dragon Age), Purple Hawke (Dragon Age), Flirting, Banter, POV Varric Tethras, Varric Tethras' Chest Hair, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Elodie Hawke is a menace that fits just right into Varric's life and keeps him on his toes. After The Incident with misfiring Bianca, Varric knows he'll let her get away with anything....

...except it's hard to let her get away with leaving.

Read on AO3

Varric doesn’t know how The Incident happened.

Well, that’s not strictly accurate. He knows Hawke the way he knows the best ways to sneak around the Guild Hall, where to purchase the good ink, and how much it’ll cost to bribe Corf when Rivaini gets carried away. He’s well aware of what she gets up to when she’s unsupervised.

Hell, usually when she’s supervised too. The woman is a force of nature and they’re just along for the ride.

What does surprise him about The Incident, as it’s known forever after, is how quickly it happened. He swears up and down every time it comes up in conversation afterward he only looks away from Hawke for a moment. One second, he’s peering down at the short story that eventually became his bestselling Hard in Hightown series, the next…

The sound of a bolt rattling into Bianca’s chamber, the whoosh of another flying through the air, followed quickly by his large, ornate, absolutely atrocious dressing mirror shattering into a million pieces.

He’s better off without it. Honestly, the most upsetting part of the whole sequence of events is that he isn’t holding Bianca.

Varric doesn’t look up from his papers. The room is completely quiet.

“Hawke.”

“Varric.”

He appreciates the deadpan delivery of his name. He really does. Odd how quickly Hawke wormed her way into that special, stupid part of his heart that forgives almost anything. She’s barely off the boat at this moment, fresh faced and lively if a bit too hungry looking.

He’s known her for a few months. And, bizarrely, he feels like he’s known her all his life.

“That sounded like Bianca,” he observes, as if he wouldn’t know the way Bianca sounds anywhere.

“Well, that doesn’t make any sense,” Hawke chirps. “Somebody told me that Bianca is a delicate, complicated lady who can only be fired by one specific dwarf who was trained in her secrets by an Antivan Crow whose life the dwarf saved.”

He finally looks up to take in the damage. Mirror shattered, bolt in the wall behind it, and Hawke standing shamelessly in the middle of the room cradling his crossbow.

“Somebody also told you not to touch her,” he adds pointedly.

Hawke grins from ear to ear. “We’ve already established somebody is full of shit.”

He discards his journal and glides back across the room, arms out and a carefully maintained disgruntled look on his features. “Come here, beautiful. What’d she do to you?”

Hawke takes a step back, eyes widening in clear afront. “What did I do to her? Varric, she’s drawn blood!”

“I told you she’s a sensitive lady. Difficult to handle. Little rough around the edges.”

“She’s a menace Varric.” Hawke relinquishes the crossbow and examines her fingers with a wrinkled nose. On her left ring finger is a nice cut, blood welling and dripping down her palm. “Look what she did!”

There’s a smear of crimson on the trigger. He wipes it away with his shirt sleeve. “You got your fingers stuck in the gears. She taught you a lesson about respecting other people’s property.”

“It’s going to scar!”

“Let me send an urgent note down to Darktown for Blondie. He’ll be thrilled to come stitch together your papercut.”

She laughs and puts one palm on the curve of her hip, leaning into his space. “I’m telling you Varric, the crossbow goes or I do.”

Something lurches in his stomach, a hint of fear he doesn’t quite have a name for, a bit of knee jerk panic at the thought of losing the last bit of her he truly has. But Hawke’s joking, Hawke is always joking, he can see the sparkle in her blue eyes and the twitch at the corner of her lips.

He lets his own tip up in the same playfulness. “You better clean up this mess before you go.”

She sighs in defeat and plops her finger between her pink lips, sucking on it thoughtfully while she looks at the chaos she’s caused. Varric spends a second too long examining the way her cheeks hollow around her finger.

He’s only a man, after all, no matter how taken he is.

“How much bad luck is it to break a mirror again?” she asks.

Varric doesn’t believe in human superstitions, or much of anything beyond the worth of his coin or the power of a well-loved lie, but he answers her. “Seven years at least. And just in time for our expedition too.”

Another moment of silence. Then one single, elegant curse. “Bollocks.”

xx

Somehow, Varric gets stuck with the job of keeping Hawke in bed.

Privately, he thinks Blondie must be out to get him for humiliating the mage in more than one card game. Otherwise Varric wouldn’t get saddled with the most impossible job in Kirkwall. Their newly crowned Champion, and what a laugh that is, sits in her opulent bed wearing nothing but the rattiest shirt he’s ever seen. It’s so large it hangs off one freckled shoulder.

Varric wonders if it isn’t one of Carver’s old hand-me-downs. It’s better than thinking Hawke was plucking her nightclothes out of some moldy trunk in Lowtown, anyway.

Her icy eyes glare daggers into him from where she’s propped against the headboard. “Varric, if you don’t help me out of this bed I will chop Bianca into firewood.”

“Remember what happened the last time you got into a tussle with Bianca?” Varric asks, raising his eyebrows.

“I still have the scar!” she protests, trying weakly to push herself up off the bed. The covers slip, revealing the bandages wrapped around Hawke’s waist. Before Anders got his hands on her, bandages like those were the only thing holding Hawke’s guts inside her.

Varric knows. He put them on.

“You’re gonna have a better one now. Comes with a heroic story and everything.” A story where Varric stands, clutching his crossbow, helpless and afraid as a sword pierces Hawke’s body and hoists her off her feet. A story where she summons a fistful of fire to smother the Arishok as she’s impaled on his blade.

Varric’s still covered in a cold sweat and it’s been four days. Andraste’s ass, what would he have done if…?

But it’s not worth thinking about. He can’t face it in this bright bedroom, with Hawke and the mutinous gleam in her eyes. She swings them from his face to the window, her expression wistful.

It tugs at his heartstrings, it really does. Hawke has barely spent a night in this mansion in Hightown since they dragged Leandra’s body from the monster’s pit and held a quiet, solemn funeral at the Chantry. She bunks at a spare cot in Anders’ clinic, crashes on the moldy old chaise in Fenris’ mansion, falls asleep in Merrill’s bed while Daisy sits in front of her damned mirror all night.

But, more often than not, she’s in Varric’s bed and he’s in his armchair. Or she falls asleep in the armchair and refuses to be moved. Varric should complain, it’s ridiculous that he’s sharing one suite of rooms while she’s got a whole damn house, but he doesn’t. He can’t.

He knows what it’s like to live in a mausoleum to the dead.

In truth, Hawke has not come home to stay since it stopped being a home, and now she’s trapped there with her guts shoved back in and a title she could care less for.

“Play a game of Diamondback with me,” he cajoles. “You win, I’ll risk my chest hair and get you into the garden against the doctor’s orders.”

Hawke bites her lip and considers his offer, narrowing her eyes. “You cheat.”

“And if you pay attention, you may learn something to improve your own lackluster technique.” He pulls the cards from his pocket and hops up, in a painfully undignified fashion, onto her ridiculously high bed. The action brings a spark of humor to her gaze.

“I won’t be distracted by your ridiculous cleavage today, serah,” she teases, watching him shuffle the cards. In the brief moment of silence, Varric catches the way she runs her thumb over her finger, tracing the small silver scar Bianca left all those years ago. It’s a habit he’s noticed with fondness when she’s plotting, and it should worry him to see her scheming…

But honestly, he’d rather have her scarred and scheming than not have her at all.

xx

They stand on the docks with the world on fire around them when Varric finally runs out of things to say.

There’s a joke here... somewhere. He struggles to find it while Hawke stares over his head at the ruined landscape of Kirkwall. He could say something about how she sure knows how to make an exit, but the thought of her exit sticks in his throat, deep in his chest.

Kirkwall without Hawke makes no sense. Varric without Hawke makes no sense, and when did that happen?

She’s leaving and he’s staying. It’s what they need to do. She’ll be free as a bird to ignite the revolution she’s become the figurehead of, thanks to Blondie, and he’ll be here to confuse and confound the authorities while he tries to put his home back together.

But, somehow, it feels like his home is about to get on Isabela’s ship.

“Look on the bright side, Varric.” He looks up into Hawke’s face. She’s got her best Champion smile plastered on, the one that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “We’ve almost burned through those seven years of bad luck, right?”

The mirror. Her face without the wrinkles of worry at the corner of her eyes, on her forehead, Bianca in her arms and a smile on her face. Varric’s chest constricts painfully.

The Hanged Man is gone. Hawke is leaving. All he’s got is Bianca on his back and a pile of trouble again.

“You’ll always have the scar though,” he jokes weakly.

She looks down at her hands. Varric wonders if she can see blood on them, even though she’s done everything she could have. The scar from her run in from Bianca is merely a thin white line across her finger, but his eyes go there immediately.

He doesn’t know what possesses him, but it feels right to snatch that hand out of the air. Long fingers curl immediately over his leather gloves and her blue eyes flick to his face.

It’s a bad idea, but he’s too committed to stop now. He brings her knuckles to his lips like she’s a fairytale princess instead of the biggest menace he’s ever known, like he’s a knight instead of a cheating scoundrel. His lips brush over that thin scar softly before he pulls away, looking up into Hawke’s eyes.

She swallows, hard, and Varric swears he sees tears in her eyes behind a watery smile. Varric’s words are still missing, lost somewhere in the rubble around them, but he has to try. “Hawke-”

She pulls her hand from his and drops it to the side. “Well Varric,” she begins behind her brittle smile. “I’ve been telling you for years. That crossbow goes or I do.”

For a brief, insane moment Varric considers slinging his beloved Bianca over his shoulder and into the harbor. It passes just as Hawke stoops to envelop him in her too long arms. He just catches her whisper. “I’ll miss you.”

“Yeah,” Varric swallows his own bitter emotion. “Me too, Elodie.”

That makes her laugh and lightly punch his shoulder as she withdraws. He barely gets a look at her tearstained face before she flees up the gangplank and onto the boat, leaving him bereft.

“If you were waiting for an opportune moment, you have missed it,” Fenris remarks acidicly behind him.

Varric ignores the remark and the ridiculous insinuation behind it as Fenris appears in his line of sight. His love life is complicated enough, after all. “I can afford to let her go, she doesn’t owe me five sovereigns.”

The familiar, immediate refrain is almost comforting. “I’m good for it.”

Varric huffs a small, broken laugh. “No you’re not.”

“You are not incorrect,” Fenris finally admits. The elf casts a look behind him for a moment before adjusting the pack over his shoulder. “I wish you well, my friend.”

The bastard has enough decency not to add Varric will need it. “Watch her back, Broody.”

“I will attempt to do so,” Fenris murmurs, shoving past him. “Although nobody does it as well as you.”

Varric watches him go with a heavy weight in his stomach.

That is exactly what he’s afraid of.

[song-of-asystole]

Crime and Punishment - Soukoku oneshot

Summary:

A demon once whispered to him of crime and punishment. He hadn’t paid it much mind – how trusted can a demon be?

His crime, among others, was betrayal.

The only aspect of the crime he left overlooked turned out to be the most crucial one – the punishment.

And the demon stays amused by the most pathetic Raskolnikov in existence – Dazai Osamu.

or

The author being an absolute nerd for Dostoyevsky and overanalyzing Soukoku’s relationship. Enjoy Dazai’s late-night thoughts!

TW: death, implied suicide

Author’s note:

I’m taking a break from my usual writing (which I’m super insecure about), so I’m writing this little fic because I hope you will be kind to me. Also, I just needed some comfort and BSD is my go-to place for that.

There’s a couple of references scattered across the fic: the obvious one about Dostoyevsky’s Crime and Punishment, as well as The Brother Karamazov and The House of the Dead. Yes, I’m aware I’m a huge nerd.

I actually got really carried away and I wrote 2 more chapters which I’ll post on AO3. Of course, this chapter will be up there too, I’ll put a link down below, so please give feedback. :D

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30342828

Enjoy!!

A demon once whispered to him of crime and punishment. He hadn’t paid it much mind – how trusted can a demon be?

Dazai Osamu’s crime, among others, was betrayal. He betrayed the miserable life he had led in Port Mafia, the life that had devastated him on the days he remembered he had heart under that cold, colorless ribcage of his. This life, if one may even call it that, deprived Dazai of a childhood, of innocence, of cleanliness: his hands stained crimson red and his thoughts painted pitch black. Would letting go wash away those dark colors, reveal the truth underneath, which was unknown to him? He did not know, but something had to change.

And so he escaped, with the night cradling him and the smoke of a burning car covering his treacherous silhouette. He had fled the winter of his life, days of bloodshed and sin out of sight and out of mind, looking forward to a promisingly bright spring. Betrayal is an ugly thing, but he had never cared much for looks.

The only aspect of his crime he left overlooked turned out to be the most crucial one – the punishment. Never had he dreamed he would feel guilty.

What am I really even guilty of? Wanting to see the light? Wanting to do good for once in this wretched life I lead? The days I spent swimming in the dark waters of despair deserved to see the end. Am I a monster for wanting happiness?

Hard as he tried to reason with his guilty consciousness, it never left him. It just kept gnawing at his thoughts, making him remember what, nay, whom he tried to forget.

The red-haired calamity.

The manipulator of gravity.

To Dazai, the giver of life.

Nakahara Chuuya.

At the time, Dazai could’ve never fathomed the concept of missing the redhead. Sure, Chuuya was important to him – as much as a person who knew everything about you could be. The two knew each other from the tip of the head to the end of the toes.

He could never not be important. Such noise is rarely ignored, Dazai mused jokingly.

Chuuya was what brought him life. The constant cheating, stealing and killing tramples the soul until you cannot make anything of what’s left. It’s what makes Dazai long for death – he’s seen the depths of this cursed city that squeezed his heart to the point he wanted to throw it away. However, Chuuya – just saying his name made Dazai feel warm – he saw it too. He felt it the same way Dazai did. He might act harsh with all his stomping, yelling, and destroying, but underneath all that is a gentle, nurturing nature that he hides. It’s a detriment in his line of work. Having someone understand meant a lot to Dazai. Maybe their partnership was even built on this silent understanding, among other things.

However, Chuuya was not nice. Don’t ever mistake Chuuya’s sensitivity with kindness. Sugar and spice was not to be in the same sentence as his name. He has always been… rough. Sometimes it served as a wake-up call to Dazai. It helped put things into perspective, but it also helped put things into bad perspective. Not a single morning did these two share without a fight – verbal or physical. Dazai didn’t mind it much at first. After all, teasing Chuuya did work like a drug for him. With time, however, the blade of their words never became dull. It only sharpened. Words like poison flung around the apartment, sentences like spider-webs sitting in hidden corners of the bedroom. Love – they never dared call it that, but, oh, what a burning love it was – love, the most sacred of all emotions, was a chore until it became a war. Eventually, Dazai couldn’t find his peace even in the arms of a lover.

So, his craftiness started turning wheels again and – he escaped. Not a word in the evening, not a trace in the morning, only confusion and hurt spelled over Chuuya’s heart.

Dazai knew it was cruel. He never felt right about it. He loved Chuuya, after all, so the best thing to do, he concluded, was to forget.

The demon laughs. Punishment has been passed.

Presently, Dazai Osamu spends his night awake, staring at the dirty ceiling of his room, as the most pitiful of the world’s Raskolnikovs.

Why can’t he seem to forget a man he once loved, a man he soon grew to hate, a man he betrayed in order to find happiness? What twisted force of nature is dragging his thoughts back to the time he was at his lowest? Why is it that now, when all hope of reunion between the lovers is lost, he finds himself longing for the infamous Port Mafia executive Nakahara Chuuya? Why did the ashes find their way back into a flame after he committed the worst of all sins – betrayal of trust and love?

The demon chuckles once again and in a sing-songy voice he says, I told you, Dazai-kun. To love thy neighbor is impossible. The man himself is the ugliest of all God’s creations – how could anyone love such a creature up close? Even the Father won’t cast a glance at him. It takes distance, Dazai-kun, and you’re not exempt from this rule of human nature.

It is irksome, yes, how right the demon seems to be. It is certainly irksome, Dazai feels, as the demon’s words carve into the left chamber of his stone cold heart. What even was it that made Dazai hate Chuuya? Hate Chuuya… it used to seem so impossible and yet, along with Odasaku’s death, it drove him to plan and execute a high-scale betrayal of the entire Port Mafia.

It would take years before Dazai could understand the intricacies of his past with Chuuya at Port Mafia. What mattered now – truly, the only real thing in this world – was the fact that he actually loved Nakahara Chuuya.

Oh. There. He thought of it. For some reason, he didn’t want to think of anything else but that. It wasn’t scary, as he thought it’d be, all those years ago. He finally broke the lock in his lungs and there it was: all that air he never let himself breathe. What was it about that mere word that made two Port Mafia executives shy around it, avoid it like the authorities, dance around it as if it was bonfire in the festival night? Why had they never let the simple four-letter word into their little sanctuary when it so obviously belonged with them? The fear he once felt seemed foolish to him now.

I guess we do learn as long as we live, he whispers in the dark room to no one in particular.

He felt a rush trying to sweep him up, make him stand. However, where would he go? To Chuuya? As if. He hurt Chuuya in unspeakable ways even during the time they spent together. He has no right to show up at his doorstep or in his life. Ever again.

Even if he did, how would that end? They squeezed each other’s hearts dry and called it love. Every day felt like torture, but they swore it was sweet. Why, why, why did they cause so much pain? Was it truly the only method to make them feel alive in the house of the dead? Did the right answer slip between their fingers at some point?

The question Dazai had been stuck on was, Is there any way he could forgive me? If, once in the future, I looked him in the eye and told him the truth – would there be salvation pouring from his lips? Or would he rightfully convict me for my crime?

Thus, Dazai fell into slumber, like every other evening for the past four years. The bed will never feel comfortable to him because it always seems to be missing something, but Dazai will keep denying it. His little room doesn’t even look like a home, but Dazai will tell you that he just can’t be bothered to unpack and decorate. His heart, cold like a Russian blizzard, has not known warmth in a while, but he will tell you it’s incapable to do so.

Those are the only three lies Dazai Osamu tells people and himself – until the night comes again and unlocks a little door in his brain.

[charlie-boio]

The Only One For Me Part One

Summary: Everyone gets assigned a magical allegiance once they turn 16: Healers, Electrics, Shifters, and Darks, who were more often referred to as Voids. Once you reach 25, you no longer age until you meet soulmate.

After being outcasted by the world so long ago, Stiles Stilinski gave up on ever subjecting his soulmate to being with a Dark and decided that if the world would only ever treat him like it, he’ll be exactly what they wanted him to be: Void.

Word Count: 6,312

A/N: So, I really like this idea. Also I meant for this to be like a 5,000 word fic but it’s gonna be longer and this is now a two part fic because I procrastinated too hard and now my family is yelling at me to spend time with them. I’m sorry it took me awhile to write again lol I just needed to sit down and write. Anyways this is for @writingsbychlo Void Month, even though it’s the last day for it. This was a little bit inspired by her Stone Walls story because I love magic and the Billie Eilish song COPYCAT. I’ll try tagging those but I’m super new to posting new content so I have no idea how to do it lmao but I’ll give it a shot because y’all should check it out 😊 anyways I hope you enjoy this!!

Warnings: angst, smut but nothing too outrageous but it probably qualifies as rough smut, violence, blood, attempts at self-harm, mentions of suicide, I feel like I’m missing stuff so if I miss something and it triggers you I am so so sorry

I would also classify this as NSFW so read at your discretion.

  If you had known him back then, you wouldn’t believe that this dark, twisted, and fucked up man was that same bright and smiling boy before.

Stiles Stilinski was always a happy kid, and despite his awkwardness, people were naturally drawn to him. Sure, he had a biting, sarcastic sense of humor, but he was kind, sweet, and he cared for other people more than he cared for himself. He had loving parents, dozens of friends, and a welcoming home. His future, safe to say, was bright.

He was so excited to find out was his magical allegiance was; several friends had gotten it already and were unabashed in flaunting their powers about. He hoped he would be an Electric, wielding electricity through his fingers like the superheroes he always grew up idolizing was a dream come true. Of course, he’d be happy with being a Healer or a Shifter too.

Stiles couldn’t wait to meet his soulmate either. He already had gift ideas, dates planned, and he couldn’t wait to introduce them to all his friends, his family, and especially his mom. He wanted to travel the world with them, and he promised his unknown soulmate that he would protect them from anything that could ever harm them. He also didn’t see why he couldn’t get a head-start on gift making and love letters. After all, if they were his soulmate, they would be just as eager about all this soulmate stuff as he was.

Stiles didn’t know much about Darks, more commonly known as Voids. He just knew that they were extremely rare, and pretty much pure evil. There was only one thing anyone ever told him: stay far away from Voids.

Of course, you could imagine the absolute dread he felt when he found out what his magical allegiance was.

His parents, albeit afraid, still loved him and tried their best to reassure him, but they couldn’t stop his tears as he fled to his room, sobbing uncontrollably. He hoped with all his might that he would be different, that his friends would still love him, that he would still be able to do all the things he so desperately had wanted to do with his life.

You couldn’t imagine his grief on how wrong he had been.

It wasn’t subtle, it was instantaneous the change. Everyone turned against him: friends, teachers, even strangers he used to smile at from the sidewalk. He racked up two weeks’ worth of detention for things no one got detention for, and he had sat alone at the lunch table. The weeks flew by of him begging for people to understand he wasn’t any different! He hadn’t changed! He even pledged to never learn or master his powers, whatever they were, but it never made a difference. They all abandoned him, simply for something he had no control over, and that he would take back if he could.

It continued like this for two years, and slowly the outside world began to drain away the once happy boy. Day by day the light in his eyes dulled, he walked slower, and he grew quiet. He became a shell, empty of everything he once was. One day he looked through his drawer, seeing all his plans that he had made with his soulmate. How could he even have one? With the way the world was, even if he did have one, why would he ever subject them to a life with a Void? What kind of monster would do that?

He couldn’t bring himself to throw away those plans though. Despite his resolve to never meet his soulmate, somewhere deep down, he still wanted them to love him as much as he loved them already.

His parents will still supportive, seeing how it was the outside world changing him, not his supposed evil and vicious powers. They consoled him when it was a particular hard day and showed him every ounce of love and affection that they could. Stiles was forever grateful.

Which is why it only hurt even more when he had walked home from school and saw his house engulfed in flames.

He didn’t think much of the threats, they happened all the time since he was 16…he never thought anyone would act on it…h

The tears came fast before he could stop them. A sharp pain shot through his heart and flowed through his body as he fell to his knees. Even if they were alive, there’s no way in hell that anyone would come help him, a Dark…a Void…even though his parents were both Healers. They hadn’t done anything wrong…they had only loved him despite everything.

He stood shakily and ran. Ran away from everything. From his childhood home, from the town he grew up in, and from the house that was completely engulfed in flames. Stiles ran into the woods, limbs shaking while he collapsed again, resting against a tree, his head in the palms of his hands.

For the first time he no longer felt empty, he felt angry. How dare they? How they accuse him of being evil when he had nothing wrong all his life? Why kill his parents, the only people who ever truly loved him and were his one chance of being happy? The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. He snapped.

Fine, he thought. You all win, if you want me to be Void…I’ll be Void…

He stood up while rolling his neck, feeling the bones crack. He flexed his shoulders and raise up his palm, about to do something that he had never attempted. Stiles panicked for a second, then a burst of energy blasted him back, throwing him against a tree a hundred feet away. He groaned in pain and frantically looked around, wondering what had caused that. Then he realized…it was him!

Stiles realized everyone wasn’t afraid of him because he was evil, it was because everyone knew that he would be powerful.

He stood up and tried again, and dark spiraling lines flew from his hands and up into the sky. He still stumbled but held his footing. He laughed, enjoying the power flowing through his veins. He smirked, closing his fist.

Stiles turned back to the town, feeling something for the first time in a few years. He knew exactly what he had to do

*

*

  You were nervous, to say the least. She took deep breaths while walking up to the gated community of the Voids.

Everyone knew the story from 20 years ago, how Stiles Stilinski took up the name Void for himself and single-handedly drove everyone out of his hometown. Miraclously, nobody died, but plenty were maimed. He threatened anyone who would come to try to take back his town, and nobody needed to be told twice. From the around the world, Darks had come to this place seeking refuge from the outside world. Since this incident, Stiles Stilinski was known to the rest of the world and the true Void, and they all referred to him as such. The world hated him; he was everything parents warned their children about at night. He was the boogeyman, made of pure evil.

Except to the Darks. They worshipped him as their savoir, someone who saved them and gave them a place to live out in the open instead of casted out into the deepest darkest corners of the world. Many had even found their soulmates, after centuries of being alone.

Some people had also taken refuge here, even though they weren’t a Dark. Well there had been some tension, people in this town had learned that they all really weren’t any different from each other, and they all live in peace together, even if the rest of the world is divided.

Although, there have been new safe havens that have formed in these past 20 years, Stiles was the first to revolt back.

Which is why you were nervous because when you had decided to leave your parents who thought cruelly of Darks, you hadn’t expected to come across the original safe haven. Even though they had accepted others, you still felt a pool of dread hitting your stomach. Darks were weary of others for a reason…

As you approached the large gate, it opened partly, allowing someone from the community to walk out. You could make out his tanned skin and crooked jaw; reading his energy, you knew instantly he was a Void, which only made you more nervous. What if they don’t accept me?

He stopped in front of you but kept a good distance. He cocked his head to the side. “What are you doing here?” he asked cautiously.

“I-I need a place to stay”

“What? As a vacation?” You flinched automatically, feeling worse with every passing minute. If you couldn’t come here, where the fuck would you go?

“No…to live. I ran from home because they had driven out all the other Voids, and I didn’t agree with how the felt. A lot of my friends were Voids…they were good people,” You tried your best to seem confident, but your voice wavered. The boy stared coolly at you, not buying your story.

“How come you’re so damn nervous then?” he asked, malice dripping from his voice.

“Because…if you guys don’t want me here, which I understand, then no one will,” his eyes instantly softened at your words, nodding in the direction of the gate.

“Follow me,”

Relief instantly flooded your chest, a small smile creeping on your lips as you followed the boy. Together, you walked through the gates as they shut behind you, signaling the end of that chapter of your life. You could scream from the joy, but kept quiet, choosing to instead go up to the boy leading you around.

“Um…what’s your name?” you asked tentatively.

He turned to you, smiling slightly. “You don’t have to be nervous anymore, we won’t randomly throw you out. Promise,” he held out his hand to you, “and my name is Scott. Scott McCall. My mom and I moved here after my dad found out I was a Dark.”

“Oh…I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’ve learned through the years that the ones that truly care about you don’t care what your magical allegiance is. They just care about who you are…” he trails off, smiling to himself. He’s probably thinking of his soulmate, you thought to yourself. You wished more than anything to meet your soulmate.

“I’m y/n y/l/n,” you stated, snapping Scott out of his thoughts for a brief moment. He nodded to her, acknowledging the name. They walked in silence for a brief moment before he was giving her a tour of the town, telling her which houses were available and who lived where. You were amazed on how well people have acclimated here. You were hopeful for your future. After walking around town for a little while longer, you two settled into silence as you moved into another part of town. “So, who are they?”

Scott crooked an eyebrow. “Who?”

You smiled knowingly. “Your soulmate. You were thinking of them after talking about your dad.”

He smiled brighter at you; a light dusting of pink covered his cheeks. “Allison. Her situation was similar to yours, her parents didn’t approve of Voids,” his jaw ticked slightly. “But she didn’t feel the same way. We met here, and as soon as we made eye contact, we knew. Unfortunately, we were in town meeting that still had at least another hour…”

You laughed loudly at that. Of course you knew about how once you and your soulmate discovered each other, the sexual attraction between you two is remarkably high, to the point that you guys pretty much spend the day trying to satisfy your sexual needs. The longer you put it off, the stronger it gets. The thought of even surviving an hour seemed impossible to you.

He grinned sheepishly at you, the tension from earlier long gone. “Her dad eventually came around, and they reconciled. They live down that way now,” he nodded his head toward a winding road. “And I live a few blocks from them. We’ve decided to take things a little slow, considering we were 18 when we met, so we figured we had all the time in the world to settle down.” You nodded at his words, genuinely happy for you. “Have you met yours yet?”

Your shoulders slumped. “No, not yet. Hopefully soon though. Maybe I’ll met them here,” You wanted more than anything to meet your soulmate. It was something you’ve dreamed about ever since you’ve heard of having one. You only hoped that they would be just as excited to meet you. “I had a boyfriend back home, but looking back now, I’ve realized he was rather abusive. He also hated Darks with a passion, and tried to forbid me from fraternizing with them”

“What was he, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“A shifter, I’m-“

“A healer. I know,” He smiled at you. “Do you give health or take away?”

You paused before answering, “…take away. Another reason for leaving…” Scott merely nodded, not pressing the subject further.

The two of you turned a corner to see a lone house on top of a hill. It was smaller than the other houses in this town, and looked to be uninvited to the rest of the community. You turned to Scott. “Who lives up there?”

Scott looked up toward the house, and for a second you thought you saw a flicker of sadness in his eyes, but it was gone as fast as it came. “That’s…Stiles…Stiles Stilinski.”

Your eyes widened. “He’s still here? He’s not dead? No one’s seen him…”

Scott laughed humorlessly at that. “Well, he’s had it pretty rough, even for a Void. He doesn’t come into town often, and when he does, he usually keeps to himself. Even though it’s a safe haven, he’s still distrusts everyone. Of course, he sure as hell doesn’t step foot outside those gates,” You looked up at the house, feeling such sorrow for this Stiles, despite having never met him before.

Scott cleared his throat. “You’ll definitely see him around, but don’t expect him to say hi or anything,” You nodded, walking back up the path toward some of the open houses.

*

*

  Stiles held out his hand to the baby doe, some bread being offered to the nervous creature. It took a tentative step forward, sniffing the air. He crouched down even lower, and extended his arm a little further for them. Slowly, the doe started to walk toward him.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, holding out his hand even further. Eventually, it reached his hand and ate the bread from his palm. He tipped his head and smiled slightly at the baby.

Suddenly, the doe’s eyes widened, and it sprinted away from him. Stiles knelt there still, his face falling, before he heard the sound of footsteps behind him and he grew annoyed.

“What do you want, Scott?”

Scott rolled his eyes. “I know you like me, Stiles, you wouldn’t have let me come up this far otherwise.”

“What do you want?”

“Relax, it’s not another attempt to drag you downtown,” Scott sighed, bringing a hand up to rub at his jaw. “I’m just here to tell you there’s a new member in our community.”

Stiles turned to him scowling. “I’m not the mayor, I don’t need to know that shit.”

“Well, the mayor thinks you do; he considers you at least the owner of this town.”

“I don’t collect rent.”

“You know what I mean,” Scott said. Stiles stood up and brushed past him, walking into the house. To his dismay, Scott followed him. “Her name’s y/n y/l/n. She’s not a Dark, but she believes they deserve equal treatment like the others here so she left her town and family. She’s a Healer, but she takes away health instead of giving it.” Scott paused, waiting for his reaction. When Stiles didn’t give one, Scott moved toward the door.

He don’t what came over him, but suddenly his mouth was moving without him telling it to, “Where does she live?”

Scott stopped, turning abruptly toward him. Stiles tried to maintain his composure; he knew this was something he never asked. Scott gave him an odd look before answering, “She lives on Milton Road, not far from Allison and I.” Stiles nodded. When he didn’t say anything else, Scott left him to be on his own. Despite the cool interaction, Scott smiled to himself. He had a feeling, but he wouldn’t say anything. He knew how badly Stiles had been burned, and he wouldn’t want to get his hopes up for nothing. Scott realized he wasn’t even sure if Stiles wanted his soulmate around. Scott shook his head and started the route back to his home.

Meanwhile, Stiles frantically walked through his house up to the single guest bedroom, not that he had any guests. The room was void of everything, except from a bed and a desk with a single drawer. He walked shakily up to the desk and opened the drawer. Inside were the plans, ideas, and letters he had written to his soulmate years ago. He wasn’t sure why he’d kept them; he wasn’t ever gonna find his soulmate if they weren’t dead already. But he couldn’t will himself to throw them out. It was the only thing keeping him from losing himself completely to his new persona of Void. He wanted to spite the world for as long as he could, and for some reason these letters helped.

Stiles slammed the drawer shut and stormed away.

*

*

  You had acclimated well with everyone here. You quickly became friends with Allison, which in turn had you become friends with Scott as well. They ended up introducing you Lydia, Malia, and Derek as well. You made some of your own friends as well, feeling the happiest you had since before finding out your magical allegiance at 16.

Slowly, you had began to gain more confidence in yourself too, figuring out what you want versus what you didn’t want. You weren’t sure what you wanted out of your life yet, but the happier you became here with your friends, the more you longed for someone to share your life with. You hoped with every new person you met that they would be the one, but every time you were deeply disappointed.

You remember clearly the first day you saw Stiles himself. You had decided to get some ice cream with Scott, Allison, and Lydia, who were all laughing loudly at the fact that you were a virgin after each of them had talked about who was their first.

“Seriously? Not once? Not even drunk?” Lydia asked through her giggles. Scott and Allison were still laughing furiously.

Your blush grew even deeper. “No,” you said firmly.

“I thought you said you had a boyfriend?” Scott asked after finally calming down.

“I did…Adam wanted to as well. ‘For practice’ as he would say, and I know people have that mindset to be good in bed for their soulmate, but I always thought that I was betraying them if I did that. I couldn’t bring myself to do it, even drunk” you finished, more embarrassed than ever. Everyone at home thought that your mindset was stupid, and told you so, but when you looked at your friends, they were smiling, saying how they understood your mindset. You smiled to yourself, wondering how you could ever doubt their intentions.

When you looked up, that’s when you saw him.

He was walking by himself, moving slowly across the street. While his stride and shoulders gave the illusion of confidence to anyone who was merely glancing by, the way his head dipped low and forlorn face gave away his insecurity in himself. Many people waved brightly at him, happy to see him about for the first time. Being polite, he would nod and give a small smile, but nothing more.

You couldn’t help but stare. The way his jeans fit his legs, or his black leather jacket with a black shirt clung to him in all the right ways. You were expecting someone with gusto, someone like Adam who bullied their way around with their strength and loud voice. You weren’t expecting him to be the skinny kid who could barely say hello.

“Who’s that…?” you whispered.

Scott turned his head, his smile instantly fading. “That’s Stiles,” He gave you a knowing look.

“Is he always alone?”

“Sometimes he joins Scott for a walk, or will have dinner with us. He won’t say much though, and Derek will forever boost on how he got him to crack a smile at one of his jokes,” Lydia said, flicking her long hair back and taking a sip of her milkshake. “Scott makes it a point to visit him though and tell him what we’re up to, at least once a week.”

You looked down at your ice cream, feeling your heart break at the fact that he was so scarred from the world that he felt like he had to be alone.

By the time you looked up again, Stiles was gone.

 Stiles had seen you too. Scott had mentioned to him that he was getting ice cream with Allison today and he was feeling up for sitting with his friends, even if they never considered him to be one. However, he wasn’t expected you to be there either. You and Lydia must’ve been invited sometime after Scott’s visit. He stopped in his tracks and stared at you, enthralled in your beauty. All the confidence he had earlier in seeing his friends completely vanished, and he quickly turned his heel and bolted back up to his home. Once there, he slammed the door shut and leaned against it, taking quick breaths to calm his racing heart.

*

*

  Scott had told him plenty about you, and the more Scott talked, the more Stiles wanted to see you for yourself. You had seemed too good to be true. You were smart, funny, kindhearted, not to mention beautiful, and you seemed to get along well with all of his other friends. You had a troubled past like him, but you had seemed to grow from it instead of drowning in it like Stiles had

Scott had also told you about Stiles, with what little he knew. You knew nothing of his past, but you knew he wasn’t the cold-blooded creature that you had learned about in school. He was extremely polite, however little things could set him off sometimes, and he didn’t really speak. You figured he had crawled instead his shell after whatever had happened to him, and you were determined to find the real Stiles, wherever he was.

However, you two seemed to always miss each other.

You would find out that the one time you’d missed dinner with Scott, Allison, Derek, and Lydia, Stiles had shown up. Or you would see him out on the street, but never with enough courage to talk to him. You two haven’t even made eye contact.

He’d done his best to try to meet you, and the other residents in town had started to notice that instead of venturing out of his home a few times a year after Scott’s relentless begging to now going out nearly every single day. He’d even gone as far as holding a small conversation with some of the people who stopped to thank him on the street. Despite his anxiety screaming at him to run and hide away until everyone forgot he was there, he wanted to meet you.

But he couldn’t stop his racing heart every time he saw you, and just as you turned to look in his direction he’d turn away, cursing himself for still being so distrustful of everyone.

He’d made progress, but not enough. The dark thoughts were still there, tormenting his mind that you would turn against him, judge for being a Void, for being the true Void. He also couldn’t help but wonder if he was the one person you would dislike.

Stiles laid awake at night, wondering if he’d ever muster up the courage to talk to you.

*

*

  Adam was disgusted. His parents had just finished telling him about how there were now over 100 safe havens across the globe. Disgusting. How dare they? How dare they even exist? They knew they’re place 20 years ago, until that motherfucker Void drove out his town. He was lucky no one died, else he’d be rotting in jail where he fucking belongs.

The more Adam thought about it, the more he thought somebody should do something about these little “safe havens”. Why hasn’t anybody even fucking tried? More importantly…why hadn’t he tried.

He had followed y/n when she left, followed her straight into the original safe haven. Void��s safe haven, and he watched her get in. He could shape shift easily into someone…no, he could kill one of the guards, take their form, and get in with absolute ease. If was able to kill him, their supposedly savoir, then these little safe havens would disappear. Y/n would come flying back into his arms once he becomes the person that saved the goddamn world from these monsters.

He disguised himself as a little girl, knowing that his magical allegiance would quickly be disguised as she was too little to even have one, and limped up to the gate. Of course, the guard that night took complete pity, which he took advantage of.

He was easily to kill, just a quick snap of his neck and he was on the ground. A painless death for someone who didn’t deserve it.

Quickly taking his form, he slipped through the gates, making up some random excuse as to why he didn’t let her in.

*

*

  Stiles paced around his living room, anxiously biting at his nails. He hadn’t been this fucking nervous in years. He kept glancing at the clock, watching the seconds tick by when the knock came tentatively at the door. Stiles rushed and flew it open in seconds, ushering a very confused Scott into the room.

“Hey, hey dude take it easy!” Scott said, laughing nervously. “What’s the big emergency?”

“How do you know there is one?”

“Well…you’ve never invited me here before,” Scott shifted on his feet and glanced down at the floor.

Shame immediately flooded through Stiles. “Oh…I’m sorry. Really. I guess I haven’t really been a good friend…”

Scott’s eyebrows raised. He hadn’t known that Stiles considered him a friend, and he broke into a huge grin at the thought, relieved that his pestering to go into town wasn’t a total waste. “You haven’t been, you’ve just taken your time getting used to having friends again. I understand.”

A silence fell over them, before Stiles remembered why he had called him in the first place. “Oh um, if you don’t mind, I kind of need a favor…”

“Anything,”

“Well,” Stiles shuffled nervously. He walked over to the counter and picked up the enveloped. Taking a deep breath, he held out to Scott. “I need you to give this to y/n for me. I…don’t know where she lives exactly and every time I go out I seem to miss her…or I psych myself out. I’m hoping this’ll help us get to know each other,” He smiled nervously at Scott, who’s face had spilt into a huge grin.

“Of course, man, I’m happy to do it. I’ll deliver it on my way home. Promise,” Scott said. He turned and made his way to the door before stopping and turning back to Stiles. “Hey man, I’m proud of you for this. This’ll be the first friend you make without me having to introduce you,”

With that, he left Stiles alone. Stiles smiled to himself, feeling something for the first time since he was 16, happiness.

*

*

 You had been at home, enjoying a small glass of wine when Scott came knocking at your door. You had barely even cracked open the door before he came bursting through, exclaiming wildly about the encounter he had just had with Stiles. It took you awhile to calm him down in order for you to understand exactly what he was saying. Scott excitedly handed you the letter Stiles had written for you before running out the door to tell Allison about Stiles’ progress.

With shaky hands, you opened the letter from him. Surprisingly, he had such beautiful handwriting and wrote very eloquently. He apologized dearly for somewhat avoiding you, saying how he wasn’t the confident, charismatic person everyone here saw him as (you already knew that), and that he would love to have you over for dinner tonight so he could get to know you better. Of course, you welcomed to decline for whatever reason.

Tears pricked at your eyes. You were completely honored that Stiles wanted to get to know you. You knew exactly how cautious he was with letting people into life. Of course, you happily accepted his invitation, and began to get ready. You weren’t sure how formal this was supposed to be but decided that a pink skirt that swished down to your knees and a white blouse with matching vans would be good. Stiles would probably be nervous to see you and you didn’t want him to feel overwhelmed if you wore something too nice. It would be a lovely friend date for the two of you.

Feeling as though you were a giddy ten-year-old on the way to a birthday party, you left your home and made the walk up to the Stilinski home.

*

*

 Stiles was once again nervous. He wanted to make sure everything was perfect for dinner tonight. He wasn’t the best cook, and after burning a chicken in the oven, he decided that take out would be a suitable option instead. Well, if you were coming.

He hoped you were, else he’d probably regress back a few steps. He didn’t want to, especially because of how happy Scott seemed when he told him about this. He wanted to do better, to be better.

A rapid knock came at the door. Stiles heart instantly fluttered as he took once last look at the mirror, making sure he looked alright. Taking quick steps, he opened the door-

BAM! The door flew open, knocking Stiles back to the floor, hitting his head hard. Before he could figure out what the fuck was going on, something grabbed his throat, lifted him up, and shoved him against the wall.

“Open your eyes, Void,” a deep voice sneered.

Fuck.

Slowly, he pried his eyes open, seeing an unfamiliar face. Thankfully, since he’d been spending much more time in town, he knows roughly who lives here. This man definitely does not live here.

“Who the fuck are you?” Stiles wheezed, grabbing at the hand around his throat, trying to summon his magic.

“Adam Tameson, and don’t you dare use your power unless you want me to kill people in this town. Do you really want that?” Your face flashed through Stiles’ head, and he stopped any attempt at magic. “Good, and since I’m a good person, I’ll keep my word, even after I kill you. Because I’m good, unlike all you monsters. You Voids.” He spat. “I’ll be hero, killing the famous Stiles Stilinski. I hope you’ve had a good enough life, oh wait, I know you haven’t,” Adam laughed coolly. He grew out his nails until they became sharp claws that dug into his flesh. One of them pierce his skin just barely.

Suddenly, Adam’s smirk disappeared and his skin paled. He began coughing rapidly, blooding pooling into his mouth. Letting go of Stiles’ neck, he sunk to the floor, coughing and wheezing as he gasped for air but nothing came through until eventually the light died in his eyes and his body froze. It took Stiles a couple seconds to realize that he was dead.

Stiles leaned back against the wall, taking deep breaths to recover when he finally looked up to see his savoir. His eyes locked on your form, you stood over his body, panting. You were shaking slightly, him realizing that this was probably the first time you’d killed someone. Stiles knew the feeling, only having killed in self-defense himself. He reached out and grazed his fingers over your arm reassuringly. You eyes snapped up to look into his.

Suddenly, he knew why he had been so attracted to you, and why it was impossible for him to even approach you at first. You both knew. You two were soulmates.

People had told them about the sexual desire you felt when you discovered your soulmate, but he still wasn’t prepared for it. He tried his best to hold back, not wanting to fuck up with you.

That lasted an agonizing 10 seconds.

In an instant, you flew into his arms, kissing him passionately. Your arms wrapped around his neck while he picked you up, legs wrapping around his torso. He turned and pressed your back against the wall. The kiss was rough, teeth and tongues clashing messily together. Your legs were so tightly wrapped around his waist that he was able let one of his hands roam around your body. Grabbing at the top of your shirt, he pulled down harshly, exposing your breasts to him. He grabbed at them roughly, moving his lips down to your neck so he could bite at the sensitive skin, loving the moans that were coming out of you.

He suddenly dropped you, making you stumble slightly on shaky legs. He reached under your skirt and ripped apart your panties, throwing them across the room. You made quick work of the belt on his jeans, unbuckling them and tearing them off. Stiles undid the button on his jeans and pulled them down along with his boxer briefs. His hardened cock bounced up, precum leaking through the slit.

Stiles’ hand sneaked around and grabbed roughly at your ass before wrapping your legs around himself again. He lined himself at your soaked entrance and slammed into you.

“Oh fuck Stiles!” You moaned loudly. He growled at you, sliding out almost completely before slamming back into you. He set a punishing pace, thrusting into you again and again. You leaned your head back into the wall, being thrown into a world of absolute pleasure, you’re eyes rolled back into your head.

“God you’re so fucking tight,” Stiles mumbled into your ear, along with various other obscenities, spurring you on with his filthy words.

The adrenaline from killing Adam, finding your soulmate, and with the way Stiles thrusted up into you hard and fast, the pleasure was building so quickly in your stomach you couldn’t keep up.

“I’m-I’m close” you whimpered.

“Open your eyes,” he commanded, tipping your head forward. You complied, staring into his darkened, lust blown eyes. He lifted his hand, licking the pads of two of his fingers. He slipped his hand under, pressing harshly on your throbbing clit, and you cried out, fire spreading through your veins.

“Cum for me,” he growled in your ear, biting down on your lobe.

Just from his tone, the fire in your stomach broke loose as you came harshly, your core clenching on cock. A few deep thrusts later and he was following suit, his cum shooting up into you, filling you to the brim.

You two stayed like that, your legs wrapped around him, his cock still buried deep within you. Your heartbeats were in sync together, you two enjoying the feeling of being with one another.

Unfortunately, reality came crashing back down. Stiles realized exactly what he’d done: ruined any chance of being able to be your friend. His anxiety took over again, screaming at him for being a fuck-up. He couldn’t have a soulmate; he was a Dark. Void. What kind of life is that for a soulmate?

He dropped you suddenly, and you collapsed on the floor, utterly exhausted. However, you looked at him with worry in your eyes. He ran around, grabbing his belt and re-doing his jeans. He looked at your eyes, and guilt and lust churned in his chest. What the fuck is he supposed to do?

“Stiles…” you whispered.

Then he did the worst possible thing he could’ve done.

He ran.

[galactic-magick]

Love Again

Pairing: Diana Prince (Wonder Woman) x Barbara Minerva (Cheetah)

Summary: A few years after the events of Wonder Woman 1984, Diana runs into Barbara at the mall.

Words: 1600+

Warnings: mentions of eating food

-

-

-

Diana sifted through the racks, pulling out any shirts that sparked her interest. She had an interview for a new position at the museum tomorrow, and even though she wasn’t afraid of not getting it, it’s always nice to get something new and look nice. With this new job, she’d have more oversight over the department, and possibly be able to spend more time exploring her own interests.

After trying everything on and checking out, Diana headed to the mall food court to grab a bite to eat. Usually the food there didn’t appeal to her very much, but today it smelled too good to resist.

She stood in line, skimming over the menu and checking her wallet.

“…Diana?” she heard a familiar voice behind her.

The sweet voice she never thought she’d ever hear again.

She turned around to see her old friend Barbara Minerva, pressing her lips together and rocking from side to side sheepishly.

“Barbara? Is that really you?”

She looked different, but not unrecognizable. Her hair was a few shades darker and less fluffy, but she had her old glasses still. Her outfit was very bland and casual, nothing like the bright colors and bold patterns she used to love.

Barbara nodded, “Yeah. I’m sorry, I just…I was in town and I saw you and thought I’d say hi. You seem busy though, I can go-“

“No,” Diana smiled, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Stay and have lunch with me, I’d love to catch up,”

“Really?”

“Yes of course. I’ve missed you,”

They both ordered their food and found an empty table, although they were much more invested in conversation than the fries.

“I heard you moved away, so where are you living now?” Diana took a sip of her drink. “And what brings you back here?”

“New York City, currently,” Barbara responds. “I…I just wanted a fresh start, you know? I took a job at the Natural History Museum up there and I like it a lot,” she laughs, “People still don’t really notice me, but I don’t mind so much anymore,”

“Wow,”

“I came back here to visit some family for the weekend, but I’m heading back tomorrow,” she adjusts her glasses and takes a bite of her food. “What have you been up to?”

“Well, still working at the Smithsonian. I have an interview tomorrow for a promotion and if it goes well I’ll oversee the department,”

“Oh my gosh Diana! That’s amazing!”

“Thank you,” she laughs. “It is exciting, I suppose,”

“Well I hope you get it. I know you’ll get it,”

Diana sighs through her grin, debating on how much she should ask Barbara. It’s been several years since the incident, but time works differently for everyone, something an immortal like herself will never fully understand. Barbara seems to have moved on, but there was a tension that she couldn’t deny. They never got closure since Barbara packed her bags pretty quickly. Maybe she was avoiding Diana, avoiding Maxwell, maybe trying to run away from herself.

There was a short silence before Diana spoke again, “Barbara, why did you leave?”

She laughed it off, ignoring the seriousness of the question, “I told you, I just wanted a fresh start. Doesn’t everybody want that once in a while?”

“Why couldn’t you start fresh here?”

“Because…” she looked down, across the room, everywhere except Diana’s gaze. “I couldn’t face you after what happened. I couldn’t just go to work the next day after everything I did. I would rather just abandon everything. I almost didn’t even talk to you today, but I just felt like I needed to,”

“Barbara,” Diana placed her hand over hers. “I was never angry at you. I could never be angry at you,”

She pulled her hand away, “Diana I literally tried to kill you. I became a monster and tried to stop you from saving the world. I was selfish and cruel and awful and I don’t deserve to be anything close to your friend. Not after that,”

“I believe in forgiveness,” Diana smiles. “And I forgive you,”

“I…thank you,” Barbara nods. “Well now I kinda wish I stayed,”

Diana pauses a moment.

“You could come back, if that’s what you wanted,”

“Diana- I couldn’t. There’s no place for me here anymore,”

Diana shakes her head, “That’s not true. If I get this promotion, this new position, I’ll have the power to hire new people. I could give you your old job back,”

“Are you serious?”

“Of course,”

“Wow! Well, I mean, why not, right?” she giggles. “Okay, so I guess I’ll have to move all my stuff back here, that might be a couple weeks to settle in again, and I have to wrap up my other job. I don’t even know where to live though, my old apartment is most likely taken so I’ll have to find a new one, oh gosh all this-“

“You’re welcome to stay in my apartment until you find a place,”

“Really? Wow. I don’t even know what to say,”

“It’s my pleasure,” Diana packs up her food containers and tosses it in the nearby trashcan. “You know, if you’re still around tomorrow, I’d love to get together again before you head back,”

“Yes! Yes I’d love that,”

 -

 Diana and Barbara met up again late in the evening the next day, after Barbara decided to take a later flight. They had dinner and took a walk around the city, up and down streets with no destination.

It was as if they were simply continuing the friendship they started before, babbling on about whatever comes to mind and laughing together. Diana missed this, being with one of the only people who could make her feel this happy. Before everything happened, Barbara had given her hope, hope that she could have fun again, hope that she could love again. Now they could pick up where they left off, start new and move on through life together.

“You know, Diana,” Barbara looked up at her. “I don’t think you ever explained to me what you are. I mean clearly you have some sort of superpowers. Of course you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to! Just forget I ever said anything,”

“Barbara, it’s alright, truly,” Diana smiles. “I’m a demigoddess, I come from the island of Themyscira, the island of the Amazons. My mother is Queen Hippolyta and my father is Zeus,”

“Oh wow,” Barbara’s eyes widen. “So like, all that Greek mythology stuff, that’s all real?”

“Very real, yes,”

“So when I wished to be like you, I was a demigoddess too?”

“You had the powers of one, yes,” Diana nods, then stops a moment. “Is that really what your wish was?”

“Yeah…I know,” Barbara shrugged. “I just...when I first met you, you were so perfect and so beautiful and being your friend made me so incredibly happy for once, and I guess I thought being like you would make me even happier,” she bit her lip. “But I think just being with you makes me happy. I don’t want to be you anymore, Diana. I just want you to be in my life,”

“I want that too,” Diana says.

“Gosh, I really missed you,” Barbara laughs, but there’s also tears in her eyes.

Diana stops walking and brings a hand to Barbara’s face, wiping a tear away with her thumb, “It’s going to be alright,”

She leans into Diana’s touch, smiling against her palm, “Thank you,”

“Would you like me to take you home for the night?” Diana asks, stroking her hand down Barbara’s hair.

“No,” she shakes her head. “I mean, maybe, I don’t know,”

“How about I take you somewhere else, then,” Diana slips out her lasso and wraps her arm around Barbara’s waist. “Would you like to try flying?”

“You can fly?!” Barbara squeals. “Yes! Yes! Absolutely yes!”

Diana grins and tightens her grip, throwing the lasso in the air and catching the wind. Barbara screams and holds on as tight as she can, burying her face in Diana’s shoulder more and more as they got higher.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” Diana whispers.

Eventually they land on the top of a building, Barbara still clinging on for dear life. It’s a beautiful overlook of the city, all the lights and people down below. Barbara beams when she looks over Diana’s shoulder, resting her feet down slowly.

“Wow, Diana,” she walks over to the railing and takes in the view. “This makes all that worth it,”

“I couldn’t always fly, you know,” Diana joins her. “I only learned a few years ago…when someone helped me,”

“I see,”

It wasn’t hard for Barbara to connect the dots and figure out who she was talking about, and she was able to read Diana well enough to know she shouldn’t push it. She could only assume that the man Diana wished for was now gone. Forever.

“Diana I…I feel like I should tell you something,”

“What is it?”

Barbara took a deep breath, “You know how I said when I first met you I was so so confused, I didn’t know if I wanted to be like you or just be your friend?”

“Yes, I remember,”

“I think it was more than that,”

“I understand, Barbara,”

“You do?”

“I felt it too. I was…just too afraid to move on at the time, I suppose,” Diana took her hand and intertwined their fingers. “But now I think I am,”

“Really?” Barbara meets her gaze. “Are you really ready for that?”

“I am,” Diana faces her. “I’m ready to love again,”

Barbara smiles, not taking her eyes off of her.

Diana leans in slowly and presses a soft kiss to her lips, cradling her face and separating with a grin, “I’m ready to love you,”

[goldeneyedgirl]

jalice2020 day five

JaliceWeek2020 Day 5: Angel/Demon

Afterglow

Notes: This is the third version, because I thought the others were going to be ‘too long’ and then this became a behemoth. I’ve lost all sense of whether it’s actually worth posting, but it’s 6,300+ words and a whole day of work that I refuse to waste. These prompts are going up out of order because I feel like being contrary and am totally disorganised. 

And I found the idea of ‘demon’ fascinating because what else would a vampire be but a very specific form of ‘demon’? Plus there were so many (utterly amazing) fics about demon!Alice, I decided to flip the script. 

I am also totally running with the angel thing in a much longer fic, because I had so much world building, so much more history for both Alice and Jasper, and I was sorry that I couldn’t include it. 

There were three things of which she was certain.

The first was that her name was Alice.

The second was that she was born an angel.

And three, she was getting ready to die.

—

He finds her in an alley behind a diner, slumped against the brickwork, struggling to breathe. He sees her, and for a moment he doesn’t realise what he’s seeing - why would he? Who, in living memory, has laid eyes on an angel?

But he remembers the stories, told around a Monterrey bonfire, of the markings, the aura, the divinity of those nearly mythical creatures. Creatures born of hope and love and all those things that he left behind on that last ride. The older ones always had angel stories, of their astounding beauty and immense power; of wings that stretched out eight, ten, twelve feet of pure white energy that could cut through any substance known to creation. Of miracles and healings and forgiveness that filled all the hollow spaces inside. Of blood that can only be offered willingly, or it becomes fantastically and irreversibly poisonous.

He goes to her side, his hunt forgotten. Maybe it is the stories, that childish, lingering hope at the back of his mind that there is absolution for his actions, that he has not fallen so low he cannot rise up again.

Or maybe it is seeing a creature as broken as he feels, and the twist of pity-empathy in his gut won’t let him turn away from her. She is so small, so utterly… forgotten.

She was a great beauty, he can see that underneath her suffering; her skin has a grey cast, and her lips blue, her eyes underscored with dark bruises. She’s so thin, her skin stretched tight. The celestial markings still adorn her tiny arms, from wrist to elbow, a collage of flowers and stars and maps and symbols utterly meaningless to him, but faded like an old bruise.

Something utterly precious, just thrown away.

His red eyes meet hers, and she gasps, tries to make herself smaller. Some half-forgotten lesson tells her that red-eyes, demons, are the lowest evil and she must protect herself. But with what? She has lost her wings, has lost her magic, has lost much of her memory.

She has been discarded, and is worth nothing more than a demon’s gaze, his next meal. It would be better to go quickly than to linger with this heaviness in her bones and lungs and heart and mind. Whatever divinity is left in her blood, perhaps it can gift him with something - she doesn’t even know what a demon would wish for with angel’s blood, truly. But for a quick end, she would offer it willingly.

She gasps again as he lifts her, and cradles her close, his eyes studying her carefully as he settles her in his arms, making sure he causes her no pain, even as fresh bruises bloom on her skin.

“What…?” she croaks, as he sweeps out of the alley, away from his chosen meal, from the buzzing signs of the diner, and into the night.

“Rest, little one,” is all he says, as if he has a plan. “You’re safe.”

Those half-remembered warnings feel paper thin as she is cradled like treasure against his strong body, as he moves confidently through the streets. Even through her threadbare clothing, it is the first time she has been touched since she can remember, and it is… nice. It is nice and it is easy enough to close her eyes and let whatever is to happen next come upon her.

—

His room in the boarding house is small and worn, but fine enough for him to have a minuscule wash room of his own. The angel sleeps deeply, the sleep of the gravely ill, and he tucks her into the untouched bed in the corner, whilst he ventures into the yet unvisited common kitchen to find her food.

The landlady sweeps in, a well-lived woman - who has never trusted the red-eyed man - likes him a little more as she watches him make a right mess of toast and tea, and she quickly assembles a little tray. This isn’t the kind of establishment that cares what he does in the room he pays for, and she doesn’t really consider the possibilities when he asks for an extra towel and pillow.

The angel sleeps through the night and well into the next day, and he can feel the heat coming from her skin. He dribbles cooled tea between her lips, and curses the fact he has no memory of nursing from the army, of his human life. He refuses to request more help from the landlady, and finally he gives up all pretences and manages to gather the girl up and clamber into the narrow, stained little bathtub together, filled with cold water that he hopes will curb the fever.

She dreams of fire licking her limbs and red eyes staring into her soul and her lips are so dry and everything is all jumbled up and then she is staring at the very tall red-eyed monster cradling her in a bathtub full of cold water, and patting her face with a cloth and worry on his face.

Somehow she regains control of her limbs, enough to reach one shaking hand up to his cheek - it seems impossible that the most evil of creatures could be so handsome, could go to so much trouble for her. She wishes she could ask him a million questions, but she is so very tired, and it is easier to settle back against him and sleep as her fever rages.

—

They are together a week before she is lucid enough to ask questions and offer answers, for them to even learn the other’s name.

Alice.

Major Jasper Whitlock, ma’am.

A soldier, a killer, in his human life. That makes her sad for him, that humans choose to set themselves on a path that is paved in death and misery but there is nothing that can be done about that now. And for a soldier turned vampire, with all his terrible deeds indented on every inch of his arms and neck, with luminous red eyes and a hard stare, he is not.. bad.

In fact, he shows her the first kindness she can ever remember.

He brings her food, strange choices at first, but he soon learns - angels like sweet things, fruits and honey and candy; thin soups to build her strength up, well-sugared milky tea to help her sleep. He brings her some clothing - a proper night dress, and a blue day dress that is far too long, but it covers up the bruises on her stocking-less legs. He reads to her, cheap novels that have covers depicting in young ladies and flowers and cannot be vaguely interesting to him.

She knows he slips away to hunt, to drain humans of their life, but she sees the slump in his shoulders, the tired, pained look on his face upon his return and she wonders if those paper-thin lessons were wrong. That demons do have souls, souls that are weighed with every choice, every action, of their cursed existence. After all, a vampire is just a human gone astray, really. And for all of their flaws and follies, ignorance and arrogance, humans are essentially good, kind creatures. There is a reason they are so staunchly guarded by the angels, after all.

What if Major Whitlock is only a demon because the angels failed him?

When she is well enough to stand, to limp slowly around their tiny room, he offers to take her to church, and she wants to giggle, but he looks so serious and so determined to escort her there that she agrees; churches are for humans, and so is the religion found in them. But she thinks she understands - angels and churches and religions have been so tangled up together that it is some kind of logic, to take her there. He even brings her a hat and gloves and new shoes for the excursion, letting her limping stride set the pace, letting her lean on him as her lungs struggle to keep up.

His arm is gentle yet strong around her, and she leans closer to him, breathing in a scent of pine needles and rainwater.

—

The closest church is of moderate size and limited wealth - the parishioners are hardworking people with little money - and the pastor is an elderly man who has overseen the births, marriages, and deaths of those people, all of whom he can name on sight. It is a late night, counselling a young couple, and he ambles around the church, setting it right for the next morning.

He looks up when he hears voices, and sees the silhouette in the doorway - one tall and one small. For a moment, he mistakes them for an adult and child; perhaps siblings? Strangers or newcomers, certainly. They take a place in a back pew, the taller figure helping the smaller into her seat before settling beside her. It is then he approaches, to welcome them and offer them counsel, before he realises what he is seeing.

The red eyes of the male, firmly fixed on the diminutive girl. And he wants to banish the monster, this fiend from the sanctified ground on which they stand, of which he should not be able to enter. But the flickering candles throw light onto the girl, and the sight of her is a reward paid for with decades of his faith. It is a split second, a flicker of light and shadow, and he has Seen her. The ghost of wings that fold around her in filmy light, the slight glow of her skin, the wisp of lost golden markings, such beauty his mortal eyes has never seen. She looks up at her companion with affection in her eyes, and she takes his hand, and the pastor does nothing more than nod and bless them both in passing; whatever has brought the pair into his church is beyond that of mortal comprehension.

They stay a little while before the devil helps the angel stand, and the pastor watches as the girl limps from the church, leaning heavily on her corrupted companion and says a little prayer for them, one to see them both to whatever sanctuary they might be needing. And then he extinguishes the candles.

—

Time meanders on, and Alice grows stronger. Strong enough to walk unaided, though she still takes his arm every time they leave. Strong enough to teach herself to mend their few clothes, to prepare herself food, though he finds her with candy and fruit just as often as something properly nutritious.

Seeing her cheeks round with chocolate, blushing with embarrassment at getting caught, is the first time he’s properly laughed in decades.

She looks so well now, with faint colour in her cheeks; her eyes are a blue he could get lost in, a swirling galaxy of shifting light and colour - they are most inhuman thing about her right now. Her lips have lost the blue cast, are now a rose pink that makes her look very kissable, but thoughts like that are dangerous, and feel heavy in his chest. Her markings look like some kind of bruise-coloured tattoos that are slowly darkening. He hasn’t asked about them, about the meanings behind them, but when he holds her hand, he sometimes finds himself tracing the lines of the flowers, the stars, the symbols - he thinks he has them memorised.

But eventually, it is time to move on. His body count is rising, getting closer to noticeable, and the money is running out - they only have what he takes from his victims, and it has been slim pickings for a few weeks. He hates to have to admit why they have to leave, but she doesn’t flinch, just smiles and requests a bag for her things as if fleeing a city because of too many bloody disappearances is a perfectly normal reason to leave.

So they leave Philadelphia, hand in hand, with no particular destination in mind. And for a long time, that’s how they live - boarding houses in the city, forgotten farm houses in the country, cradled by long grass in forests where the night sky peeks through. Those are the nights she lies pressed up against him, her head pillowed on his shoulder, as she traces constellations with her finger as she relaxes into sleep.

Those are the nights that are imprinted on his brain forever.

—

They find themselves in the back of Vermont in the fall; it’s been a few years since they left Philadelphia, wandering around the country. She looks beautiful to him that day, with a flower crown in her hair - the flowers drooping but not yet wilted - and her very worn out pink dress that is shredded below her knees and a filthy white shawl with more holes than lace. He clasps her hand tight in his as they meander through the forest; she hums a song under her breath, one that is sweet and soothing and intoxicating and he can never remember the tune until she sings it again.

He isn’t paying attention, when they settle on a camp site and she flits off to find something edible - fruits, herbs, flowers; she is surprisingly adaptable. And for all the legends and half-truths, she has no trouble or reluctance eating animal flesh, as long as she cooks it on a fire first, though she always cries when it has to be a rabbit.

They are upon them at once, a coven of five aged vampires, suspicious and on edge as they see his eyes, his scars, his cold glare at the interruption and his own failure to sense them.

At the strange, sickly amber of their eyes.

It’s a tense conversation of his intentions, his purpose on their lands, and his honeyed words are thinly veiled threats. He is grateful that Alice’s sweet scent (roses and linens and melting snow) is easily covered by his own, an illusive little quicksilver protected by her own sacred biology. He has them almost convinced them to, in laymen’s terms, fuck right off and leave him be when Alice returns.

“Jasper?”

The older woman gasps at the sight of her and the entire family go from suspicion to anger and disgust - the shawl slung low around her elbows (covering up her markings, good girl), the girlish, tattered dress, and flowers in her hair. The apples clutched in her pale hand, one with an obvious bite mark. Her blue eyes bright and skin flushed, and decades later he will remind them how damn unobservant they are that they thought she was his victim, lured into seclusion, when two bags sit by the tree, when everything about her was uncanny and inhuman enough to tell them the still-shocking truth. It was fall in the forest, and the flowers in her hair were still fresh, for god’s sake.

But in that moment, she is the innocent, a future meal of a monster, the sacrificial lamb.

“Sweetheart, come away from him,” the woman gestures to her, but Alice is no longer smiling, and if they looked closer, they’d see the storm rising in her eyes (he loves that about her, the way the blue of her eyes darkens and churns when she’s worried or afraid, and lightens and ripples with her joy. He could watch her eyes forever.) She drops the fruit, and moves closer to him, her hands reaching for the sleeve of his coat.

The coven move too fast, and the only reason they aren’t destroyed is because he is too aware of her; she is pushed aside in their efforts to manhandle her away from him, to drag him through to their side of the river. He lets the biggest one push him to his knees, his arms tight and awkward behind his back. There is a growl is rumbling in his chest, and he can smell it - her blood. It’s an odd, distinctive smell that is enough to make him freeze. It’s not a lot, maybe a scrape, but this coven… angel blood is somehow a walking, resistible temptation. They could drain her dry (and die horribly for the effort) but she’ll still be perfectly dead and that cannot be allowed to happen. He begins to struggle, but the big one holds him firm and shit. This is bad.

“Let him up, please.”

He can only move his head enough to see her standing, a small cut on her leg that will be gone in a day or two. She looks … displeased. He’s never seen that look on her face before.

“You’ll be okay now,” the redheaded boy tells her superiorly. “You should find your way back to town.”

“Let him up,” she retorts, just as arrogantly as the boy, as imperious as a queen, and there is a stillness, an edge to everything around them - no birds or breeze; even the running of the river seems rather muted.

“We’ll deal with him,” the big one says confidently, and that is the wrong thing to say.

“Let. Him. Go.”

It happens all at once, an echoing order that is not yelled but thunders in all their ears. They yell and gasp and are tossed away like paper dolls and he finally gets a look at his girl in all her glory.

She’d told him once, off-hand, that she’d never be fully healed again. That she accepted that she was Fallen and Shunned, and what she had managed to recover, she was grateful for.

Not recovered, his ass.

She was great and terrible and the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, her arms thrown wide and the shawl gone, her markings glowing white, her eyes pools of white energy. And behind her, stretching four feet, easily, on either side were her long wings, crackling with pure light. Markings he hadn’t glimpsed before peeked out from the neckline of her dress, and her skin had a faint glow to it, the entire effect as if a star was entrapped inside her body.

It is his captor that bears the brunt of her wrath, gasping in pain as her gaze focuses on him, the rest of the coven disorientated as they pick themselves up.

The last of the group, the blonde woman who might have been mistaken as an angel herself, is at his side immediately, wanting to help but unsure how to as he howls at whatever Alice’s power is doing to him.

“Stop it!” the blonde vampire screams, “STOP IT.”

He manages to get back to her side, wanting to reach out and pull her to him, but he doesn’t know if he can touch her like this.

“Alice?” he says. “We’re okay.”

The energy recedes as quickly as it appeared, leaving her looking cranky but pale as she immediately tucks herself against him as the coven inspect their fallen member.

He is disorientated and startled but unharmed as he reassures the blonde woman, the rest of their gazes falling to the couple over the river. More than a girl in a pink dress and a man in an overcoat.

“I can’t read them anymore, Carlisle,” the redhead murmurs. “His is … too quiet, and hers is in a language that… I think she made up.”

Alice spits a sharp word at the boy, holding him so tight he knows she was - is - afraid.

The leader, this Carlisle, simply stares at them with an indescribable look on his face. Incredulousness and awe and confusion and amusement dance around them, and he shakes his head.

“In all my years, I have never…” he began, wiping his face with his hand, an indisputably human gesture. “I apologise, my family misunderstood.”

Alice grunts and still glares, and if Jasper knows anything, it is that she holds a fantastic grudge against that which wrongs her - the woman who called her a harlot in a town back in Minnesota; the perfectly spoilt fruit tart from a shady baker; the young man who tore her dress in Boston. If those things can keep her gaze dark and sour her mood, he doesn’t fancy being any one of these creatures.

“Carlisle?” the older woman asks curiously, and the big one is back on his feet and seems to be entirely unaffected by whatever Alice had done to him.

“What is she?” he asks with genuine curiosity, his arm around the blonde.

“I believe this young lady might be an angel.”

—

That’s how they meet the Cullens. Carlisle spends three days hovering around them with delighted, boyish excitement until Esme gently redirects his attention and energy. Esme, who is so kind to them both, even with his red eyes and scars (later, she will smile at him and tell him that she knew that no matter where he had come from, no one who treated Alice so gently could be anything other than a true gentleman). Edward is frustrated with them both, and mutters comments under his breath as Alice snipes back in a language no one else understands - which just agitates Edward more. She admits later, when they’re alone, that she hardly remembers learning the language and probably couldn’t hold a conversation in it but does in fact remember most of the good swears and insults, and he laughs loudly at the idea that angels are pure and good and selfless as she taunts the arrogant little vampire.

Rosalie hates them. Hates his red eyes and violence, hates Alice for hurting her mate. Emmett is more curious and entertained than offended, and shrugs off Rosalie’s rage - “Babe, you’d do the same to them for me.” He’s more interested to know if Alice can change the colour of her ‘lights’ at will - like a disco ball - and Alice congratulates him on asking the actual dumbest question in the history of creation and of course that means Alice and Emmett are friends now, even though he described her attack as being ‘boiled from the inside out’.

How does he feel about them? Well, they offer them a nice room with a bed for Alice and little bathroom, and Esme goes to find Alice food - Carlisle sending her with a ream of notes on angels and their preferred diet despite the girl’s insistence anything will do. They are respectful and genuine and he cannot fault their welcome into the house. There are clean clothes and books and amusements and every possible comfort except human blood.

That is a conversation he has alone with Carlisle, whilst Alice joyfully eats her way through a pile of candy roughly the same size as she is. It is a long conversation, a hard one. Of all the guilt and the pain and the regret; of every horror he has never spoken of to Alice, of every fear that lingers in his bones.

And when he finishes, he feels lighter.

Carlisle smiles benevolently, and explains the advantages of abstaining from human blood, of existing only on the blood of animals.

“It does, admittedly, take away some of our strength,” the older man warns but his mouth quirks into a smile. “Not that I think you have to worry about your safety with such a… formidable mate.”

Jasper is quick to correct him, ducking his head so that Carlisle might not see the longing in his eyes. They are not mates or lovers or sweethearts. As much as he admires her, a goddess in his eyes; as much as he restrains himself from noticing the slender curves hidden by her clothing, from letting his gaze linger too long, they are mere companions; the closest of friends but no more than that.

Carlisle chuckles outright at that. “I assume this isn’t your preference?” he says, with a grin that makes him look his age.

He scowls, refusing to take the bait.

“In all my years, I have met many people in many differing kinds of relationships,” Carlisle says, with that knowing look on his face that Jasper decides he hates. “And I can tell you without an ounce of doubt that no angel - or woman - would look at a vampire like that, would defend one so fiercely, without holding him close in her heart. I think, if you were to make a gesture, it would be warmly reciprocated.”

And for a moment, he is full of hope. Hope of a future where he could press a kiss to willing lips, could slide his hand over the curve of a waist. Could trace the markings hidden by her dress with his fingers, his mouth, learn them by heart.

But the truth is, he is a monster. The blood in his eyes, the scars on his skin, the violence in his movement… it is what he is. That he would not sully her with his touch, if she would even accept such a thing. And in truth, he could not bear to be dismissed from her side. He would walk her down the aisle to a worthy man, as long as he could remain in her orbit.

“No,” he shakes his head. "She is… and I am… it would not be fair.” She already Fell once, why drag her further down?

Carlisle studies him carefully, the regret rolling off him in waves. “If you’ll pardon me for prying, how on earth did you end up meeting Alice? I only know of one other who has met an angel; they are illusive creatures.”

Jasper looks up, a quirk of his lips at the memory. “I found her in Philadelphia. She was dying in an alley. I tried to help her.” And the story slowly comes up; the long wait for her fever to break, trying to build up her strength, their brief attendance at church that was more for him than for her; their little pilgrimage around the country. How she loves to watch the stars, to wear flowers in her hair, and sings like the angel she is. How any money they had went to food, and she found sweet irresistible - more than once she went barefoot rather than go without a slice of cake, a bag of strawberries. He ends up smiling by the end of the story, the warmth of the memories surrounding him.

Carlisle looks at him incredulously. “Jasper, you found a dying girl in Philadelphia, and you saved her life,” he says so gently. “You raised an angel from the dead out of pure selflessness and honour. And you sit here and tell me that you are deemed unworthy? I cannot believe it, myself.”

Jasper shakes his head and thinks of all that he has been told, about animal blood, and protecting human life. About all that he has seen and felt with that diminutive girl beside him.

“For her, I have to be better.”

—

They settle into the Cullen family with relative ease - Esme is a doting mother figure to Alice, whose quirks he found so charming are utterly foreign and confusing to the rest of the family. But Esme carries no frustration to find wilted flower crowns discarded through the house; to find Alice has eaten a week’s supply of food in one night; to find an ugly scorch mark on the couch when Edward provoked the girl far enough for her magic to get involved.

Carlisle is still fascinated, but is affectionate to the small girl who has so many questions about everything, everywhere. He cannot answer many of her questions about angels, but he has more than enough stories about his life to entertain her for hours.

Edward and Alice snipe at each other constantly, as she continues to conceal her thoughts, and somehow mute Jasper’s, from his probing. The thing is, they could be good friends if they wanted; he wonders if Alice still holds a grudge from his dismissal of her during that very first meeting. Emmett, however, thinks Alice is a fantastically weird addition to their family even if her powers remain unused. Her intuition is second to none, and she is strong enough to exist safely in the household, but mostly she is unremarkable. He likes ruffling her hair and asking dumb or embarrassing questions (“So when you have sex, Lite-Brite, do you go all glow-y?” he asks one day, just ambling into the room with that question on his brain, and Esme scolds him and he growls, and Alice turns faintly pink and admits she wouldn’t know. Emmett does feel bad when she reveals that, and buys her an enormous bag of fudge that means he’s automatically forgiven.)

Rosalie tolerates them - she likes how annoyed Edward gets with Alice, and that Alice is an eager student in the art of fashion and shopping, and has suitable awe for Rosalie’s beauty and attitude. But she resents Alice’s divinity, that somehow the universe judged this tiny girl to be a precious, sacred creation, and decided that Rosalie herself was worth less than humanity.

They treat him well enough - politely, respectfully, and that’s all he asks. Carlisle offers relatively good counsel on most subjects, but most specifically on hunting animals. It’s the hardest thing he’s ever had to do, and he fails more than he succeeds. He sees frustration in the faces of the Cullens every time he returns with red eyes, but he never sees Alice flinch or fluster. She greets him with that same special smile every time he walks into the room, her sheer presence a balm. And that unconditional affection, that is when the shame feels heaviest on his shoulders.

So he tries again.

And again.

And again.

And it gets easier. Or rather, he gets stronger. The gaps between red eyes get longer, and his eyes lighten slowly from red to orange to amber. But the burn in his throat remains, and he struggles constantly. But he reminds himself, the prize is worth it. She is worth every second of burn, every disgusting animal, every long night resisting the urge to hunt.

She will always be worth it.

—

After Vermont, there is Minnesota, then Montana, then… well, they begin to blend together. All are within abundant hunting grounds, all in beautiful homes, all provide comfort and luxury he could never have imagined providing her. She fits it like a glove; her beautiful clothes, the abundant library, the ease of every day life - it is a palace for a princess and he is so happy that she is happy.

It is the place where Carlisle insists he go to school with the others, tempting him with the possibility of college in the future. She cannot go; they have no ways of concealing the inhumanity of her, and she struggles to contain her powers sometimes, especially when distressed. Even one sad movie an have her shining like a discount glow stick. Carlisle does much research on the subject, to try and help train her, but his research is slow and they still don’t know much. One day, she’ll join them. She’s determined, even when she scorches another dress, another chair, another wall. One day.

She pounces on him every single afternoon, demanding to know about his day, about his classes, about what high school is like. For so long it was just her, then it was them, then it was the family - the idea of classmates and friends and peers is so foreign. He dutiful fills her in, though many of the details she demands are not things he has noted. She always touches him during these conversations, hanging over his shoulder, curled in his lap, tucked at his side.

And even when Rosalie and Edward tell her to stop bothering him, forcing him to relive the tedium, he encourages it. Because as dull as school is, recounting it to her as she clings like a little possum to his back, is his very favourite part of the day.

And somehow, maybe because of that, something changes between them. Their closeness holds something new - potential, maybe. But her eyes seem to really see him when he presses a gentle kiss to her forehead; her cheeks get a little pinker when he compliments a new dress; he finds himself reaching for her less, and finding her already there more often.

They still share a room - he has no need for his own, not with the communal library on the third floor - and he tries his hardest to give her privacy. But he’s caught her changing more than once, seen a glimpse of more markings on her pale-flawless-exquisite spine. He lingers too long in that view, berating himself for his perversion, but he cannot resist. He wonders where else the tattoos lie.

Carlisle looks at him with knowing eyes, and Esme beams every time she sees, or thinks she sees, something. But no, not yet. Not until he’s worthy of every hope, can grant every single one of her wishes and whims. Not until he can court her as she deserves.

It’ll happen, he’s determined. He will make himself worthy, reforge himself in any hell that he can find, if it makes him a better man for her.

Inevitably, he slips again, and they have to move, and he is furious with himself. Every time he thinks he might see the light at the end of the tunnel, he weakens. Two steps forward and one step back.

He spends the night on the couch, watching movies without seeing them, and trying not to notice the warmth of her skin as he endlessly traces the lily-star-celestial map that are her tattoos. She falls asleep against him, a heavenly weight, and he wishes for a lot of things, but mostly for sleep.

—

There were three things of which she was certain.

The first was that her name was Alice Cullen.

The second was that she was a fallen angel, which wasn’t such a bad thing to be.

And the third was that she was completely and irreversibly in love with one Major Jasper Whitlock. And she was tired of waiting.

—

He has taken her into the forest, the spring air crisp, and the plants blooming. She skips beside him, her fingers interlaced with his, and it’s a lovely day - the canopy of the forest concealing the glitter of his skin. It’s one of those lazy, peaceful days that he lives for.

She leaves him sitting by the river, as she gathers wild flowers and leaves, settling beside him as she makes her crown - nimble fingers twisting and weaving. The white and yellow blooms match her new dress. And then she is wrapped around his back, crowning him in leaves and tiny red and white berries.

“My prince,” she whispers in his ear, leaning forward to press a lingering kiss on his cheek. And she pulls away, just enough space for him to turn his head and align their lips and he’s many things, but he’s also a man deeply, deeply in love.

Their first kiss is a slightly awkward angle, but it is… it is his absolution, his greatest hope, his most perfect joy. For her, it is finding home, the last piece of an indecipherable puzzle finding its place, it is entirely new and yet as familiar to her as her own self.

After he pulls away, she twists herself into his lap, her eyes so wide and flickering blue and white, a pink flush to her cheeks. She looks so hopeful and loving that he cannot help but steal another kiss, another jewel to hoard in his dead heart as she sighs happily against him.

But the real world is still outside their private little glade, and finally he pulls away.

“We can’t,” he croaks, her arms wrapped around his neck. “Oh Alice, I can’t.”

“Why not?” her question is so innocent, he wants to wrap her in his arms and keep her here forever, where nothing will ever sully her.

“You’re an angel, darlin’. An honest to goodness angel. You deserve so much better,” he murmurs, half against her lips. “Not me. I’m a goddamned monster.”

Alice sighs again. “Oh Jasper, I wish you could see you as I do,” she says so sweetly. “The person who lifted me out of the trash, the person who healed me, the person who cared for me and protected me and loved me without question or expectation.”

She traces his face, her soft fingers running over his nose and lips and cheeks.

“I’ve waited so long for you to be worthy to yourself,” she continues. “Because you were more than worthy enough for me.”

The next kiss is deeper, passionate and he pulls her flush against him, feeling the buttons on her dress press against his chest, probably cracking them. Another one follows, and then another, until it all blurs together, and he’s slid his hand further up her leg than is truly proper, and her hands are tangled in his hair.

Her smile is the sweetest, a little shy, as she buries her face in his neck - drawing in his scent - and he notices the faint glow around her markings, almost like her powers are blushing.

“I’ve waited for you - for this - for so long,” she whispers to him, the words almost lost in the light breeze.

And he holds her close, holds her tight. “I never meant to keep you waiting.”

She looks him in the eye, gold meeting blue, and her smile is radiant, as beautiful as every story and every myth. “Well, we’ve got all the time in the world.”

And then she leans in for another kiss.

—

There were three things of which Jasper Hale was entirely certain.

One was that he was a vampire in love with an angel.

The second was that his angel loved him back, as completely as he loved her.

And the third was that they had the rest of eternity to be together, whatever the future might bring.

[natsukitakama]

Du coup Eren Manbun alphabet fluffy 🙃🙃 je sais pas si je peux spécifier un truc sur reader je te dis quand même et tu fais ce que tu veux buuut j’aimerais bien que reader soit femAlbinos 🤧 voilà ~ bon courage 😂

Author note : alright let’s get my first alphabet headcanon ! What better way to start it than to write about Eren ? So as requested reader would be a FemAlbinos, I hope I did justice to your ask ♡ Let me know what you thought about it ! 

i do not own the gif credit to the owner

Warning : Fem pronoun / Mention of people being turned on / Mention of what happened during Mahr event (but it’s vague) 

Masterlist 

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Since both of you didn’t have much free time, you always make sure to take benefit of every occasion you find. Most of the time you enjoy a nice walk during noon holding your hands together while talking about your future. When you are lucky, you could enjoy some quality time on town with your boyfriend, there nothing he won’t do for you. If you want to go shopping he will gladly help you finding the most beautiful dress or shirt, Eren would absolutely love having a nice meat with you since they couldn’t afford that while being in the military. If you can’t go outside for whatever reason, both of you would definelty spend the day on bed while hugging each other : there something about your warmth, your smell or maybe it’s just you but he can’t get enough of you. 

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

You find it absolutely cliché but he absolutely loves your hair, there is something about it. When you first met he was a bit taken-apart by your physics he Never someone as pale as you before, he finds it absolutely attractive while you thought it was a burden. Everytime you complained how you’re not like any people he always praised about how unique you are and how lucky he is (him being so « normal ») to have you by his side. He’ll always praise your hair or the color of your eyes and if he heard someone being offensive about you : he’ll kick the shit out of them. 

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

Before shingashima’s event, Eren always faced bullies, he was bullying himself and always try to fight them since as long as he could remember. He hates from the deep of his soul. After loosing his mum he suffered from anxiety attack, after all he had the humanity’s weight on his shoulder since he is a teenager. Years after years he works on himself so he won’t feel anxious. So he knows how it feels being overwhelmed by your feeling, feeling that no matter how har you tried you would never be good enough. He never knows how to stop it though. So the first time you had a panic attack, all he did was putting his hand on your shoulder and help you catching your breath again. Then step by step, he learned from books, friends and by his own experience what works for you when it came to calm you down : He became the best at it. 

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

His goal when it came to your relationship are pretty simple : He wants freedom for every people he cared about. When it’s about his girlfriend, after one year of being together he knows deep down he will marry you eventually. He always wanted a family, he cherish so much his family’s memory it’s by far his best memory. So yeah he wants to marry you and have children with you, he always wanted to have his family on his own even if he already has a family in the survey corps. 

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

Oh BOY. That’s a difficult question. He is not dominant but it’s not passive too you know ? He won’t control you because of his philosophy about freedom but at the same time he is very possessive : not that he is not secure in your relationship, he trust you but not men. Hell he starts despise them when he saw the way they were looking at you, as if you were a jewel. He can’t help but feeling angry when he saw someone lusting on you, he find it disgusting. He’ll punch every people looking like you like this. But again both of you are equal in the relationship, he doesn’t see the point of pretending being the « dominant » while it wasn’t really the case. Basically when you two have an argument people realized how much « equal » means. 

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Yes and No. Depends on what started the fight in the first place. If it something really stupid like being angry because you talked a little bit too much with Jean , Eren would apologize quickly cause he knows it didn’t mean : anger just take over him. But if it something really deep, like you questioning his motivation I don’t think he would apologize for having his own believe so you’ll have to go to him and explaining that you didn’t wanted to sound mean but just wanted to be sure he know what he’s doing. You tends to apologize more than him, he has his own pride and can be quite stubborn if he thought he was right. 

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

People tends to think he is not grateful about what Mikasa have done for him but that’s not true, he is grateful for having such wonderful friends who are always on his back. He trusts them and cares a lot about them but sometimes he needs to feel he could do everything without them you know ? He need to know that he is enough. Same thing for his girlfriend, he loves seeing her taking care of him especially after training because it reminds him of his mum. He always loved being cherish even when you’re worried about him : he just loves seeing how much you care for him but at the same time he doesn’t want to be seen as weak (that’s why he is always so rude about Mikasa he wants her to see has a man not a lost puppy or a baby). He expects you to see him as he truly is but he would never be enough grateful for your kindness for him. Really even when he complains about how you worried so much for him he deeply loves that. 

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

Eren has a trust issues, he need to be trusted otherwise he won’t start a relationship. Remember how sad he was when Levi’s squad was about to kill them ? He needs to feel secure in his relationship so he would never hide something from you. He will be really pissed if you hide something from him, he might never forgive you for that. The only secret he has from you was his last plan for Mahr, again it’s not about not trusting you but protecting you. 

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

You definitely have a good impact on him. Since you two started your relationship, Eren started to be more cautious and less stubborn he even worked on his anger so it won’t take the best on him. He always worked hard to be sure people saw him as a strong people especially people who know him since a long time (He craves for Mikasa’s recognition fight me on that) but since you came into his life he realized that he was okay to fail that he was only human so he has every right to feel down sometimes. You helped him to become more mature and a better human (according to him) 

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Yeah he is jealous a lot. Like I said he feel secure around you, he trusted you. But oh god he doesn’t any male on this earth. Initially he is kinda possessive around you, but since you are especially unique not only on Eren’s eye but to everyone eyes’. Most of the time when he saw someone being a little too flirty at his own taste he will sent them his best glare, like I said he trusted you enough to know you would kick their ass if they were bothering you. However if he felt like you were uncomfortable with someone he won’t hesitate but start a fight to take you away from that prick. Eren does not share which is his. On the other side if you tease him by being a bit flirty with someone (Reiner or Jean if you want results) and he knows you’re doing this on purpose : 5sec later you’ll find yourself stuck with him in a storeroom, your back against the wall while he was kissing your neck. 

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Absolutely he is one of the best kisser of the survey corps, he puts everything he had on each kiss he got you : he is passionate and wants you to feel it. Each kiss he will give would let you breathless. He loves kissing on your lips, but forehead kiss are the most for him. If you want to flustered him, give him a good peck on his cheeks he finds it absolutely adorable and never failed to make him blush. 

When it came to his first kiss, it was quite something. You’ve been flirting with each other since a couple of months and it was obvious now for everyone that he has a crush on you. However, neither of you seemed to acknowledge that. One day, after the Mahr event you met him on the street : you know he wasn’t supposed to be here but for now you couldn’t careless. You felt your heart hitting your chest, you knew you have to confess it was now or never but he didn’t let you talk. « Do you hate me? » his question surprised you, what would you hate him ? Of course you were questioning his attitude cause he seemed a bit cold since he was back. « I don’t » you simple said. Without much saying, Eren walks directly in front of you he was very closed to you enough to feel his breath on you with one of his hand he stroke your cheek while looking directly at your eyes searching for any emotion which one ? You didn’t know. « You should hate me I’m a monster I always was ». Closing your eyes for a second enjoying the way he was stroking your cheek, you only open your eyes when he called himself a monster : you put both of your hand on his face moving your closed to him « You’re not a monster Eren You did what you thought you have to, I would always trust you no matter if I don’t understand your plan I’ll always have cause I love you and I trust you » with that you felt your body shaken a little bit but you didn’t have time to notice cause you felt Eren’s lips on yours. He gave everything on the kiss as if he tried to let you see his feeling. 

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

It took him time to realize how much he cares about you, he never thought he would have the chance of being in love since he was very busy. But then he met you and everything shattered : he has a chance now to have someone by his side, someone to love. He realized he has every rights to live his own life. His confession would be spontaneous. It could be after a battle while he thought he was about to lose you or because you were pretty badass while killing some titans and he was afraid you might no be interested on him after that.  He would take you apart and just confess like « I know I might be a piece of work but I really love you and I care for you a lot so please be mine ? » 

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

I already answer at this earlier, yeah since you two started a relationship he knows at the end when you would be free he would ask you to become his wife. He wants to have his own family with you. When he felt that the moment have came, he created a plan to make the best proposal ever (bless him) : he would take you at the place you two have confessed but will make like he came here quite by chance. He will joke about his confession and how flustered he was, you will tease him about him being a whole mess after you kiss him on the cheeks as an acceptance to become his. One second after he was one kneel on the floor holding your hand and looking at you right into your eyes « And Would you love to be mine forever ? » then he opens a tiny velvet box with a gorgeous ring. 

If you thought he was more than ready for his proposal, well he is even more ready in fact he already know how to managed his wedding more than his proposal (If he could marry you without proposal he would do it since he has already planned). He knows who would be his best man who would be at this table who he should keep away from wine etc etc. The only thing you have to do is choosing your dress and the flowers cause for him they look the same. He has bad taste about flower. He tried to make something intimate but he failed cause he has so many people around him, tone of people, tone of foods so yeah it was pretty big but you enjoy this anyway.  

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

Outside he calls you by your name cause it embarrass him to be seen as cheesy but counterbalance his lack of « intimate » by holding your hand, when you are alone or just with some friends he calls you sweetheart or honey. He loves when you call him sweetie or honey but expect you to call him by his name when you are outside. He’ll only call you with your nickname when he feels jealous or wants attention from you. 

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

Its obvious to anyone but you, seriously how could you not see him being a mess everytime you were around him ? Everyone even people he barely knows know about his crush on you. At first he tried to impress you by working hard on his fight style, then after he noticed he doesn’t really work (it does he just didn’t notice your eyes check is how gorgeous arm while he was working out) he started to have small talk with you just to get to know you more and when he was confortable enough ask more personnel question. It’s only when he runs into you after being catched by a titan that you realized he might have a crush on you. 

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Eren jaeger is needy fight me on this : he craves for any sign of affection he could have from you. I already said that on another headcanon before, but to him there is time you two have to behave and being professional and there is time where he won’t put his hand away from you. Most of the time when you’re not doing military activity he always holds your hand he just like the feeling of your hand close to his. Time to time when no one was looking at you he would kiss your hand or your forehead but if there are too many people around you he would stroke your hand instead of being intimate in front of them. He loves you from the deep of his heart but can’t be cheesy around you. 

When you are in some private place or around some of his close friends like Armin, he won’t hesitate to put an arm around your waist to have you closer to him, stroking your hair or your cheeks, kissing you on your cheeks. He keeps his kiss on lips when you are alone since he tends to be handy when you two kissed. 

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

He won’t admit it, but seeing you wearing his cloth is huge turn of from him besides that there something about you wearing his cloth that he loves : probably the fact that it was like you were marked from him. If he saw you wearing his jacket, not only he would be flustered cause you look so adorable but he would feel so proud to have you wearing HIS cloths it’s like carrying a « I belong to Eren Jaeger » sign which he really loves. 

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

He is cheesy, not very the best when it came to express his feelings. Remember when he confess to you ? He was at his best. I’m not joking he is just super spontaneous with his feelings and if he feels he need to say « I love you » he would say it just like this. That being said, he tried to be more romantic to please you cause of course he can’t taking you for granted so he’ll always work hard so he could seduce you. He’ll tried to send you cute note, got your favorite food, even buy flower (just to be sure he buys roses cause he heard women praising them so). He even bought you a necklace for your one year in relationship it was kinda simple but you cherish it. 

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

He won’t dating you if you haven’t a goal in the first place. He loves people who are passionate about something, it doesn’t have to « saving humanity » but as long as you crave for something he will support you. Hell he became your first supporter, he’ll fight (with Mikasa and Armin) anyone who dare being bad at you. If it’s something he doesn’t know shit about, he will gladly educate himself or with the help or Armin, he loves showing off about his knowledge. 

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

His life is a whole mess, it can’t start anything because everytime something happen and he has to evolve. So having a certain routine with you is a most, just couple things like who is the big spoon, when you could have your night date. But don’t worry, he’ll always spice things up he just appreciate some stability. 

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

He knows them like the back of his hands, it took time for him cause at first he was pretty obvious about some of your reaction but he works on himself and analyze every reaction not only when you two were intimidate but also when you were surrounded by titans or when you were training. He knows everything and how to behave you felt down etc. It didn’t stop him for being a prick time to time when he thought he was right. Especially when it came to your disease, he knows you had to be protected from the sun so everytime you were outside he made sure to have something to protect you from him. Again if he noticed you have some struggle with your sight he’ll make sure you’ll see a doctor for that. He is pretty thoughtful. 

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

You’re the most precious thing to him he loves from the deep of his heart, there nothing he won’t do for you. He cares so much about you, he even realized one day that he’ll give his life if he was sure you’ll be safe and free. He’ll always protect you, he can’t lose not after everything he’ve been through. That being said, unfortunately he won’t say you anything about his plan to make his people free but you know that no matter what he did he did for his people and for you. 

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

As much as he enjoys being the big spoon, there is time when he feels the need of being the little one. But he won’t ask for it, no no he is too damn pride for that. Instead, he will slowly moved on the bed, putting his arm on your waist and then inch by inch putting his body on the top of you, his head on your chest as his pillow and then he’ll humming. He tried to be subtle but you know better so you just puts him even close to you and holds him while stroking his hair to help him falling asleep. Usually he’ll do such a thing when he feels particularly sad or lonely, he need to be loved but won’t ask for it. 

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

Like I said earlier he is needy, but he knows better than being too affectionate while he was supposed to be professional. He knows a lot of people put their hope on him so he has to work hard to not disappoint them. As much as it hurts him, he couldn’t hug you or kissing you everytime but he’ll always find a time during night to see you just to hug you, kiss you and told you how much he loves you just to counterbalance the fact that he couldn’t love you the way he wants to. 

Y earning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

He won’t. Fight me on this, but he neither cope with the death of his mother nor from Levi’s squad. No matter how hard he tried he never grieve from any’s people death. He always feels like he could do something about it, he blamed him no matter if he could do something about it. If he looses his girlfriend because of a Titan he will hate himself for the rest of his life for not being able to protect her : he only has one job and yet he failed. How could he live like that ? Loosing you would definitely have a huge impact of the men he will became. 

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lenghts for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

He will give his life for you. You are far too precious. It would be his first relationship so everything won’t be perfect but he’ll do everything to make you happy I already said it couple of times but there nothing he won’t do for you. He loves you with everything he got. You are is sun, you were there when he need you the most, you help him to grown up, to become the man he is now. He’ll work so hard to make things work, but he’s not an idiot if he feels like you won’t get along or they’re no future for both of you he’ll let you go even if it hurts : he won’t force you to do anything you were against and same for you. He’s an healthy partner. 

[c-is-for-circinate]

I just read your thing about paladins and what they're for and holy CRAP does it sum up some stuff that I've been trying to explain for ages, so thank you for that! But now I'm wondering: your footnote mentioned Fjord and Vax'ildan, who both multiclassed into paladin as part of their personal character arc. Would you mind sharing your Thoughts about them? (And if you have any about the other paladins and how they fit in this - Arkhan or Kima or Kerrek or the rest - that would be awesome to see.)

You know I’m ALWAYS ready for a good CR character breakdown :D  And for shitting on classic Old School conceptions of what paladins should be, because a quick stroll through the tags has reminded me that, while many people play them very very well, the people who talk about How You’re Supposed To Play Paladins are often wrong as hell.  (This includes everybody who wrote 3rd edition d&d.)

I kind of want to start by talking about Kima and Kerrek, rather than Vax and Fjord, because Kima and Kerrek are in many ways two different angles on exactly what I think a paladin character should be.  Starting with the premise here that the paladin at its core is about turning ideals into actions, Kima and Kerrek are both awesome at exemplifying the class.

Kima is such a straightforward, action-oriented person.  Her belief in Bahamut and her belief in justice are inextricably entwined; she follows her god because she’s sure he’s right about what’s Good and Correct to see done in the world.  The ideals –> action pathway is easy and natural for her, because the necessity of taking action in pursuit of her ideals is very clearly one of her ideals.  She’s not in conflict with her vows, because she doesn’t need to be.  There’s evil in the world, and Bahamut wants her to smite it in the balls, and that’s both effective and fun.  (Of note, Kima doesn’t feel personally responsible for destroying every single minor evil ever to exist ever.  There’s plenty to go around.  Smite the monster in front of you, trust Bahamut to point you towards the thing that really needs killing, and don’t kill yourself over the petty grift of the guy in your favorite bar at the end of the day because yikes, dude, just yikes–that’s how Kima functions as a character, and it’s what makes her an actually functional character.)

Kerrek on the other hand is fascinating because he’s a paladin who thinks he’s lost his ideals, at least at the start.  At some unknown time in the past he tried to turn faith and belief (in something, and we never do find out what, and it doesn’t even matter) into change in the world.  He got some things done.  He utterly failed at some other things.  And now he’s sitting here in Westruun feeling like, maybe he can’t, maybe he shouldn’t, maybe everything is a thousand times more complicated and he’s a thousand times tinier in the universe than he ever envisioned when he was younger.  He’s sitting there thinking he’s lost his ideals and his drive and his faith–and meanwhile he’s still standing there taking action, doing what he can for the people of Westruun, planting his garden, being angry and disappointed and frustrated and still trying anyway.  In spite of himself, Kerrek still believes.  In spite of himself Kerrek still does the things he thinks need to be done, even if they’re not the things he wants to be doing, even if he doesn’t think he’ll do any good in the long run.  Such a good paladin thing to do.

Then we get to Fjord and Vax.  And so much of what makes Fjord and Vax interesting as paladins is, the ideals that compel them to action, compel them to take these paladin oaths, aren’t the ideals of their respective goddesses.

Vax did not wake up one day and say, ‘I believe in the Raven Queen and I believe that what she says is just and right and I will follow her because I believe in her so much’.  (He almost, almost got to that point with Sarenrae, circa the Briarwoods arc, and somewhere there is an alternate universe where he did and it is so interesting, but I digress.)  And Fjord didn’t really sit down and learn his way through the teachings of the Wildmother and decide, ‘y’know, yes, this is what I love and trust and want to spread in the world’.  That’s not the ideal that drove either of them to action.

Fuck, Vax didn’t even like the Raven Queen when he became hers.  “Take me instead, you raven bitch.”  Why does Vax become a paladin of the Raven Queen?  Because he promised.  Because he traded himself for his sister.  He believes to the depths of his soul in keeping Vex alive, and he believes in keeping his word.  The ideal driving Vax to action isn’t worship or admiration.  It’s the ideal of following through on his own goddamn commitments.

For Fjord, it’s similar, although a lot less fraught.  He doesn’t dislike Melora, certainly–everything he knows of her seems fine, but mostly he turns to her because he’s desperate for help and she seems willing to give it.  Fjord’s not great at big lofty ideals, but he is good at people, in his own way.  Turning to the Wildmother is about grabbing at the kindness she’s shown him.  It’s about grabbing at the kindness Caduceus has shown him.  These are the things he trusts.

And yet, Vax isn’t just a paladin to the oath of Keep Vex Alive.  Fjord isn’t just a paladin of Not U’kotoa.  They both have ideals, and they’re both doing their utmost to follow them here anyway.

For Fjord, being a paladin seems very transactional, yes (free me from this sea serpent and I’ll be your guy, sure), but there’s an enormous ethic of devotion and loyalty involved, coupled with, just like Kima had, a belief in the requirement for action.  Fjord believes that it is correct to repay kindness with deeds.  He doesn’t entirely understand what Melora wants of him, but she was kind to him in a vast wasteland where he slept unbroken sleep beneath her tree, and she has saved him when he wasn’t entirely sure he could be saved, and of course you repay that in kind.  At this point in the narrative, that intense loyalty is the driving ideal behind Fjord’s path as a paladin, and it’s really cool to see.

Vax could have run, when the Raven Queen came for him, and instead he went to Vasselheim.  He could have done a lot of things a lot of times.  The fact that he offered himself up in a fit of terror isn’t what made him a paladin–the fact that he followed through after that moment was over did.

Another really interesting thing about these paths is that perhaps the most major action our boys are compelled to take, in response to that loyalty, is simply, learn what the fuck you signed up for.  Having pledged themselves to these goddesses they are now responsible for figuring out what that even means.  There is no easy handbook for “this is what your goddess requires of you, break it and you’re Out On Your Ass”.  The Raven Queen asks Vax for extremely little, in the grand scheme of things.  He spends a lot of time fighting enemies he would have fought anyway with a little extra backup, and muddling along looking to Vasselheim and old books to figure out what she might want out of him.  Fjord’s still taking Caduceus-lessons and trying to figure out what comes next.

In the end it’s hard to even tell whether Vax comes to truly embrace her ideals of fate and finality as his own, or he just submits to them as part of who he thinks he has to be now.  That open question is super interesting to me, and I think it’s a really cool twist on the whole classic “paladins take these vows and then HAVE TO STICK TO THEM no matter WHAT” dynamic, where the big vow Vax made is, in fact, to be a paladin.  (Even the Oath of Vengeance is fascinating for him–the Raven Queen didn’t ask that path of him, Vax chose it.  He decided that was the right way for him to serve.)

I’m so curious to see where Fjord goes from here on his paladin journey.  Which of Melora’s ideals is he going to work to enact out of loyalty to her, because that’s the job he promised to do?  Which ideals will he actually understand and agree with in his own heart?  What oath is he going to take, I’m so fucking curious: Oath of Heroism makes a certain amount of sense but is also kind of self-aggrandizing, Devotion would be awesome for Fjord but also includes that absolute injunction towards honesty, I’m eternally a sucker for the Oath of Ancients and it would make sense for Melora but I’m not sure it’s correct here…

Anyway.  Tl;dr that Vax and Fjord are not, entirely, paladins to the ideals and domains of their respective goddesses–not yet.  They’re both paladins to the ideal of loyalty, which they’ve given to their respective goddesses, and that’s such an interesting option for the class.  It invites so much discussion about the difference between devotion to a deity as an individual, and devotion to what that deity actually stands for.  And I fucking love it.

[lindorthedragonslayer]

Aerith/Cloud’s Resolution Scene ✨

Normally, I like just reading other people’s thoughts on things, but since this scene, and Aerith herself are so tragically underappreciated, I decided to contribute to the conversation myself. :)

Warning: “there will be monsters.” (I.e. there will obviously be spoilers for FFVII Remake, but also the original game - based on my vague childhood memories of it, anyhow - Advent Children, and defs some Clerith bias shining through, so if that ain’t your cup of tea, please scroll away~) 

This scene was one of my absolute FAVOURITES in the remake because - on top of it being both visually, and musically stunning, as well as amazingly well-acted - I felt like it showcased Aerith, and Cloud’s characters, and their dynamic SO incredibly well. 

⁑ On Aerith ⁑

First, there’s Aerith. At the start of the scene, Aerith is her usual spirited self. When Cloud asks if she’s okay, she immediately reassures him, telling him that being back at Shinra was like “going back to [her] childhood home,” that it wasn’t "that bad,” even though that was far from the truth. Similarly when Cloud informs her that her “mom’s really worried, too,” Aerith, true to form, latches onto the chance to further lighten up the mood by teasing him about the unsaid sentiment that he was also worried about her (although this unexpectedly backfires on her).

Time, and again, it is implied that Remake!Aerith knows details that she shouldn’t, and the outcome of events that haven’t transpired yet (maybe the Whispers showed her glimpses of the future like they did with Cloud, and co.?). So, I believe that it is her awareness of her tragic fate paired with her own grief over suddenly losing her mom, Zack - and now Elmyra, and her home, too -  that prompts her to deliver her hauntingly beautiful speech about cherishing the present moment, to express her heartfelt gratitude to Cloud for all the happiness he’d given her, and to say her iconic “you can’t fall in love with me” line. She knows perfectly well how devastating it is to suddenly lose someone precious to you, so she tries to find a way to both prepare Cloud for that seeming inevitability, and also prevent him from getting too attached to her, and experiencing the same profound sense of loss she has because of her. 

I think it’s so sad, yet beautiful how Aerith’s loneliness is at the very heart of so many of her words, and actions. Aerith is so spirited, and lively, so full of life, because, to her, the girl who suffered so many great, and sudden losses, each, and every moment is “so precious, and fleeting.” Because of her early childhood, she learned to find, and appreciate the little joys in life, and the good in the people around her - even, and especially when neither were immediately apparent. This sad, pure girl, who is so touched by people simply seeking her out to be with her, works so hard to ensure, and protect the happiness, and lives of those precious to her, even if it comes at the cost of her own. 

⁑ On Cloud ⁑

Then, there’s Cloud. In this scene, Cloud refuses to go along with Aerith’s charade: he calls her out on her “childhood home” lie; ignoring her teasing tone, he sincerely admits to being worried about her; and, he listens attentively to what she does honestly say, encouraging her to continue speaking, even when she’s uncharacteristically at a loss for words.

For the very first time in the story, the seemingly aloof Cloud actually takes a firm stance on something, and even fights for it. When Aerith tells him “not to fall in love with [her],” that his feelings for her “[aren’t] real,” Cloud responds with,  “Don’t I get a say in all this?” With this curt response, Cloud actually asserts himself for a change. Cloud, the boy who, up until now, never really bothered to correct anyone’s (often misguided) impressions of him, who repeatedly chose to drop matters, and distance himself instead. Who later has an identity crisis, and doubts whether, or not “Cloud Strife,” and all his thoughts, feelings, and memories are truly real, and his, and not something Sephiroth simply created. Right here, and now, for the very first time, Cloud interjects, gets annoyed, and stands up for himself when someone tries to decide how he feels, and keep him away.  

And then, Cloud, the boy who coped with social rejection all this time by setting himself apart, reacts to Aerith’s attempt to push him away by taking a page from Aerith’s own book: he holds his ground, and further inserts himself into her life. “I’m coming for you.” This quiet, but firm resolution of his marks the beginning of Cloud’s journey to becoming the hero, and person he always wanted to be, I think. Previously, Cloud simply, and begrudgingly went with the flow: while he helped Avalanche, Jessie, T*fa, and Aerith (because “he’s a merc,” and, a good guy at heart), he never offered his own input on matters, and always yielded to their decisions, even if he wasn’t too keen on it himself. However, taking Aerith back from Shinra was so immensely important to him; it was a cause he decided to fight for all on his own, regardless, and in spite of everyone’s (Aerith, Elmyra, T*fa, Barret’s) contrary stances on the matter, and a cause that he gradually started calling all of the shots for. By the end of the mission, and game, the others actually look to Cloud for direction on what to do next, cementing his role as the leader of their ragtag group.

⁑ On Cloud & Aerith/Clerith ⁑

Now what I’ve always loved about Aerith, and Cloud’s relationship with each other is that - whether you see it romantically, or platonically - their connection is based on an easy friendship that brought both of them so much happiness, comfort, courage, and strength. Their bond with each other wasn’t built on any epic, world-shattering event that brought them together, but rather on a thousand quiet, little moments that they chose to share together.    

For Aerith, who was weighed down by so much sorrow, and unwanted responsibility, Cloud was someone who gave her so much to smile, and fight for. With Cloud, she was able to just let loose, and really live: being with him allowed her to be her true cheeky, mischievous, and energetic self without any restraints; to adventure in, and be part of the outside world she longed for without fear. At the same time, Cloud inspired her to be a little more open, and vulnerable, as well as to face her Cetra heritage head on in order to save the Planet that he, and all her loved ones live on - two huge shifts for her as someone accustomed to hiding behind a smile, and turning away from trouble. 

Likewise, for Cloud, Aerith was someone who both accepted him for exactly who he was, while also inspiring him to be better. When presented with Cloud’s cold, and distant SOLDIER facade, Aerith wasn’t deterred in the slightest; in fact, she became even more determined to stick by his side, and get him to open up to her. Through her relentless teasing, silly antics, and steadfast friendliness, Aerith quickly broke down many of the walls Cloud built around himself, encouraging him to just be himself without any pretenses. After meeting Aerith, Cloud was inspired to do so many things he previously scoffed at, like taking a break, and being more actively involved with others. In Aerith’s company, Cloud was happy, and showed that he did actually care in his own awkward, clumsy way. However, Aerith didn’t “fix” Cloud with her love, nor did she make herself the centre of his universe: she simply stubbornly stayed by his side, which encouraged him to really appreciate, and rely on the people around him, work through his issues himself, and even save the Planet.   

All in all, I believe that Aerith, and Cloud’s resolution scene perfectly captured every aspect of their relationship together. As usual, they’re initially shown directly across from each other, gazes locked, but choosing to close the distance between them. It’s a quiet moment where nothing particularly major, or dramatic happens - even the music is quiet, and gets quieter still at its climax. Yet, there’s so much love evident in every little moment, and gesture they make: they inspire honesty in each other, give each other the motivation to face another day, and once again make their desire to be together for just a little bit longer so heartbreakingly obvious. Furthermore, Cloud’s later claims about being someone who cherishes everything, and being okay because he isn’t alone anymore are so reminiscent, I think, of Aerith’s monologue here, proving that he really did take her words to heart.  

Despite the game’s purposeful ambiguity in the romance department (lest they make multiple version of the same scene, or have Cloud come off as a player), it is still clear that, as friends, or lovers (this part is up to personal interpretation, and preferences), Cloud, and Aerith’s bond with one another is one that brought them so much happiness, and strength, making it one of the most precious ones they have. In a game that heavily highlights contrasts, Cloud, and Aerith are an example of how opposite personalities can complement each other so well, making it all the more beautiful, and tragic. That’s what I believe, anyway. 

[gildedmuse]

So... I have this bad habit where sometimes, when attempting to summarize the idea for a fic, I go into waaay too much detail.

Like, I don't go as far as to actually wrote the damn thing because, you know, effort and laziness, but... Well, it's a close call. It gets to the point where it's less a summary and more what my friends use to call a Quick Fic. All that's .kissing is the actual dialogue and descriptive narration.

Having said that....

Here is a "summary" of an ZoLaw AU where Law works for Doflamingo...

What happened was, basically, Law got caught by Doflamingo after eating the devil's fruit which eventually allowed him to cure his dieses, thus why he's still alive. Or, at least, isn't dead from lead poisoning. Because let's face it, Doflamingo could have just killed the boy then and there. Sure, he'd have to find the fruit all over again, but better that the deal with this little traitor

Except really it was his brother who had been the traitor. Law is still just a child, and children can be so suspectable to any number of ideas so long as an adult gives them a pat on the head and a treat after.

Which is when Doflamingo realizes that he can just manipulate Law into being another loyal follower. Then eventually - when he's no longer useful - Doffy will have him sacrifice his life for his own immortality. By that point Law will be family, and family never lets Doffy down. Not anymore.

So it's under Doffy's personal tutorage that Law grows up, and as much as he might resit the man who imprisoned Corazon, it's hard not to eventually fall to all Doflamingo's sweet praise and promised. And Law gets what he had wanted all along: a way to get back at the world that willingly watched his home wiped off the official world map and would be happy to see the entire town dead to the very last one. This Law truly earns his title Surgeon of Death, acting as the top officer of Hearts in the Doflamingo crime family. And yet despite his cruelty, he isn't even on the government's wanted list; protected under the Shichibukai's jolly roger.

In the meantime, the Strawhats are still doing their thing right on through Punk Hazard (which they somehow manage to not only live through but actually do more damage and cause twice as much chaos. The biggest difference is that Ceaser and Monet escape and Sanji can't perv out over being in Nami's body). So this time when they roll into Dressrosa it's less "backing up the plan of an ally" and much more "on complete and total accident" and "without a damn clue".

Yeah, basically they're the Grand Line's easiest prey.

But, hey, it works out! Well, no, not really. But Sanji does meet Violet, Luffy meet Sabo and help recover Ace's devil's fruit, and Zoro does get lost and require a magic fairy guide. Plus, hey, since they're not really there for any purpose other than that they happened to be passing by, it's not like they can't pull a dine and dash. They may be unprepared, but The Monster Trio can still keep up the fight until everyone is back on the Sunny.

A perfect escape!

Except no.

Because Luffy isn't totally ready to leave, not when he wants to know more about what Sabo is doing and help his new friend Rebecca. Not that they have time to debate the merits of staying or pulling a tactical retreat since at that poing Big Momma is on their ass. And that scary dude in the long black coat is still somehow following them, teleporting himself through the fucking air like wtf why is this happening now!? Nami is forced to make an executive decision: they're can't stay. Also, oh God oh God they're trapped and they're going to be killed and oh God.

It's moments like these you're almost thankful one of your crew members is a total maniac. Because in the middle of all this mess, Zoro just smirks, tells Nami to just concentrate on getting away from that annoying ass ship, he's got their other attacker covered. Which only makes everyone freaks out MORE because what is Zoro thinking: he'll be killed! ("Not immediately, of course. First they'll likely torture him for information, perhaps even kill him as slowly as possible." / "What? Why would you say that? That is not SUPER helpful to hear right then!") The Sunny goes into an all out panic attack. Everyone is yelling or crying or both.

Except Luffy.

Luffy who looks at Zoro, at the singing ship, at the dark power user trying to slash their ship apart, at the shore line of this island and the way it radiates a fake happiness covering Rebecca's very real pain. Luffy who just lowers his hat over his eyes and gives the nod.

Zoro smiles, and is immediately almost clobbered by a giant Chopper. What is Luffy saying? Don't they realize that is the same guy who almost took down Sanji, Zoro AND Luffy only moments ago? Zoro can't fight him alone! Sanji, more calm than the rest, lights a cigarette while explaining that he's not trying to stop Zoro from getting himself killed or anything, but Chopper is right. That guy was incredibly tough, and there's no way Zoro can do it alone ("Shut up dartbrow! You don't know what the hell you're talking about! I could take him down with just the two swords! With one hand behind my back!" / "He already kicked your ass once, Marimo! Or have you forgotten because of all the head trauma!?" / "The only reason he kicked OUR asses is because YOU kept getting in my way you damn weak-ass cook!" / "WHAT DID YOU CALL ME, IDIOT MARIMO!?") Franky tries to regulate the fight but he's busy blocking those deadly aimed slashes from hitting his poor ship while Brook and Kin'emon work on stopping the incoming cannon balls. Either way they're going to have to do something SUPER fast if they want to get out of here. Yeah, Luffy, we need an actual plan. We can't just send Zoro out to-

"Zoro", Luffy says and despite everything going on around them the deck of the Sunny goes really quiet. They all know that tone. "Zoro, I need you to take care of this until we can get back. I still need to kick Mingo's ass for a friend."

At the sound of his captain's no nonsense voice, Zoro is suddenly easily able to stand, shrugging off the pile of people trying to stop him from jumping to his death (and by pile of people I do mean the coward trio and Sanji, who is mostly just trying to get in a few kicks). He draws Wado, clutching the katana in his teeth and yet still somehow manages what you know is a smirk. It's a promise.

And like that, Zoro is launching himself right into the blue sphere of the battle.

A battle against one of Doflamingo's top officers. A devil's fruit user with a twisted heart and home field advantage. Needless to say, it does not end well for our hero.

—🧡—

Although, Law has to give his rival swordsman some credit. He has his share of fun toying with the boy, and despite never standing any real chance of victory Law can admit the strawhat pirate puts up a better fight than most. Far better than Law had been expecting from some one so new to the New World (supposedly he got Mihawk to agree to train him, but Law has met the Hawk Eye and finds the idea utterly absurd). Then there is the way his smile had just an edge of what Law could only call manical delight, even when it became clear he'd long lost. This greenhaired kid really is stupid enough to believe his captain will come back for him. As though he would come charging back into Doflamingo's territory a second time just to retrieve a single crew member. One who was not only crazy enough to sacrifice himself but couldn't even win the fight. At the same time the swordman's loyalty and faith - as misplaced as it is - is kind of... Adorable. Who knew someone could come so far on the Grand Line and still be so innocent?

Law immediately wants to corrupt it.

Thes other family members will whine tell you, Doffy has always had... Let's say... A "soft spot" for Law. He's spoiled that brat for years, is what they mean but don't dare to say. Sure enough, Law barely has to work to talk Doffy around to letting him personally see to the prisoner's arrangements. Doflamingo is a little suspecious at first (he can never truly trust Law, not after the Corazon incident), but he quickly dismisses it. He's had the Heart Officer's loyalty for years now.

Of course, when he sees the spark of interest light in his apprentice as they eye their newest spoils of war, he can't help but tease Law. After all, Zoro is quite an enticing young man and Law isn't the only one there who likes pretty things. They're so fun to destroy which - judging from the way Law shivers when Doffy runs a hand through thick green hair before yanking the boys head back against the wall hard enough to leave the young captive panting and dizzy - is precisely his protege's plan.

(Doflamingo also happens to know Zoro almost definitely had trained under Mihawk, and he would love to see his fellow warlord's eyes flash with barely contained anger when he learns how Doflamingo has broken his favorite toy. It's not his fault - Mihawk is always so uptight and repressed, it makes agonizing him too much fun for Doflamingo to resist.)

In the end, though, he knows when Law's determination is set. And for whatever reason the boy has decided he absolutely has to be the one to keep their guest "comfortable" while his captain makes up his mind on what he'll do. So Doflamingo only teases for a bit - touches a little, plays with the barely conscious boy kneeling at his feet, enjoys the way Zoro still has enough spirit left to try taking bite when Doffy's fingers trail to close to his bloody lips (oh, and, what a joy! Law nearly growls at the prospect of not being the one to ruin the boy!) - but eventually he stops his little game. He gives in, telling Law to have fun with his treasure. He is the one who took him down after all. It is only fair he keeps him.

Just try not to completely break the poor thing, not until Strawhat returns for him.

Law snorts at the very idea. This is hardly the first time they'd done this. He's never seen a single captain try and retrieve their stolen property (he has of course, but he doesn't remember them). He doesn't see why Strawhat-ya would be particularly special.

Before Doflamingo can come up with a clever, vague answer about Law trusting him, Zoro suddenly gives a bark of laughter that would have scared lesser men senseless. It only serves to draw the two men's interest back to their little pet.

Luffy won't come back for him, Zoro confirms, much to Law's surprise (he personally never thought Strawhat-ya would, but then why would the swordsman sacrifice himself so willingly for a man he has so little faith in?) and has Doflamingo raising an eyebrow in.... Interest. Zoro looks at both of them with no fear, like he hadn't taken a humiliating defeat and is even now bloody and chained up, helplessly listening in on these two infamous pirates talk about him like he is a mere object. Actually, if anything, he appears to be wearing a smirk under all that blood. Because he knows something they don't.

Luffy won't come back for him, because his captain knows Zoro doesn't need to be rescued.

To Law, this makes Zoro look like an even sweeter treat. Doflamingo is simply amused, remarking that perhaps their little pup has yet to realize the leash around his neck is shaped like a noose.

Zoro meets his gaze, steady yet daring. He promised Luffy that he'd take care of it, and so that is what he will do. He'll never go back on his word, especially when it comes to his captain. Something Doflamingo with his distrusting and fear-toed crew couldn't understand. So see, their plan to use Zoro as bait will never work, because Zoro swore to Luffy that he'd be take care of it. So he will. Luffy has enough faith in Zoro that he'd never believe anything less and would never turn around out of doing to try and mount a rescue.

No, when Luffy comes back it will be for the sole purpose of kicking Doflamingo's ass.

The mood darkens. In a flash, Doflamingo is in back in front of him, yanking Zoro forward by the chin. He squeezes hard enough to bruise. You can hear the cracking of bone as he explains to Zoro exactly how precarious his current position is only to grow second by second more frustrate by Zoro's completely lack of fear. So he squeezes harder. He slams the boys head back into the wall and starts smiling when he gets a since from the stoic swordsman.

Before he can do any real damage Law steps in, reminding Doffy that he promised him he could have the boy. And just like that, Doflamingo's whole mood appears to shift back to calm. He puts on his fake smile and let's Zoro go, even pets the boy's hair. Of course, he had promised. And he, too, is a man of his word. Something Zoro will surely learn in time now that he is one of them.

Zoro, now with blurred vision and the taste of fresh blood on his tongue, is smart enough not to answer. But not smart enough to lower his head or try and appear humbled. Lucky for him, Doflamingo decides the boy isn't worth it. When he turns around he notes the hungry way Law is eyeing the kneeling prisoner behind him. Which brings a crueller, yet more genuine, smile to Doffy's featurss. The Strawhats vice captain may act invincible now, but he's never faced Doflamingo's own Surgeon Of Death. As disinterested and put off as Law might usually act, the boy can be dangerously twisted. He's sure his top officer will break the young pirate down bit by bit - both literally and figuratively - long before his captain can come running back in to try and find him (and Doflamingo is sure Strawhat will, no matter what Zoro might think).

He leaves with one last reminder to Law not to completely shatter the infamous Pirate Hunter. No, Doffy would hate to see their newest family member treated so poorly, especially seeing as he has much bigger plans in store for the young Mr. Roronoa. Specifically, he wants to see the face of Monkey D Luffy when he watches as the last bit of his first mate's spirit broken.

And because Doffy practically raised the boy and knows exactly the right buttons to push, he decides to give Law a little extra motivation to bring Zoro to that point. Just in case that interest turns into something dangerous like longing or - laughable as it is - actual fondness. It's so simple, too: as he walks by he simply whispers how there is nothing like crushing the heart of unrequited love.

It will be such a treat, tearing Zoro from his captain, and watching Luffy realize he's lost his chance to love the other man, wouldn't it Law? What a truly tragic romance. It almost makes you hope the two of them at least had some time together. Law didn't happen to give them a moment along before forcing Zoro to throw himself into the fight, hmm? Just a small, precious second or so for the two to share a final kiss. After all, not even Doffy is so cruel as to deny the poor boys such a tender moment.

Sure enough, Law's eyes immediately narrow and Doflamingo can feel the jealousy rolling off him. Not because Law gives a damn for their prisoner's feelings - Doflamingo raised him better than that - but he always has had a possessive streak. Having taken an interest in the swordsman, he will hate the thought that the boy might even think of another or that Law won't be the first to possess him in ever possible way.

Doffy leaves with a cruel, deep laugh. He can't wait until dinner, when he may just happen to remember the rumours about his "friend" Mihawk and his taking a young green-haired boy under this wing and in to his bed. By tomorrow he suspects every part of Zoro's body will bare at least some mark that he now firmly belongs to no one but Trafalgar Law.

[slstmaraudersjple]

Belated Fic Rec Event post!

Soooo... some of you may know that I was unfortunately not able to post my fic recs for the KC Fic Rec Event hosted by @klaroline-events due to my laptop dying and me needing to order a replacement battery/charging cord. So here are the fic recs for days 2-6! Lots of good fics ;)

Klaroline Fic Rec Event 2020 - Day 2 Sep 1st: All Human!AU Title: Colored You In (Links: FFN | AO3) Author: @lalainajanes (Links: FFN | AO3) Summary: AH-AU. Rebekah asks a favor that turns out to be kind of life changing (life ruining?) for Caroline. Living with a temporarily broke Kol is one thing. A really, really annoying thing. And then Klaus is suddenly always around, planted on her couch, drinking her wine and adding snarky commentary which Caroline DOES NOT appreciate. Mikaelson's and boundaries apparently did not mix. Warnings: none Status: Complete

Why you should read it: This has everything I love in a Klaroline fic: Caroline friendship with Rebekah and Enzo, Caroline/Kol bonding, Mikaelson sibling drama... and of course, Klaus secretly being trash for Caroline. It’s hilariously entertaining, especially when Caroline suspects SOMETHING is up and Kol keeps teasing her about it because he KNOWS, and Rebekah DOESN’T know what’s happening until she does, and the Mikaelson sibling dynamic is so entertaining and YOU WLL LOVE IT. I mean, in the first chapter, Rebekah bribes Caroline into letting Kol stay with her. That alone should set the tone for the entir story for you. Seriously, just read it already!

A favorite scene:

The box said 'Louboutin' so Caroline was on guard. When Rebekah had called yesterday and asked Caroline to meet her for drinks Caroline had agreed immediately. Work was hectic, she had fundraiser to oversee tomorrow, so a martini (or three) to wind down sounded like a good idea.

Beware of Greeks bearing gifts, or so the saying went.

"Do you need a kidney, or something? Because I love you, Bex. But I love gin too."

Klaroline Fic Rec Event 2020 - Day 3 Sep 2nd: Angst Title: all you need to grow inside my spine (Links: FFN | AO3) Author: @highgaarden (Links: FFN | AO3) Summary: Klaus watches, satisfied, and in that moment she realizes something terrible: that she is grateful for the blood in her mouth. The sooner they break this bond the better. / or, Klaus and Caroline try to bargain their way out of their soulmate bond, but discover that dealing with magic isn't quite as easy or liberating as snapping a neck. ONESHOT. Warnings: none Status: Complete

Why you should read it: You should read this for the writing alone. The lines just TUG at your very soul and if you didn’t know words could hurt, this does it. This story is a variation on the soulmates AU where Klaus and Caroline are NOT delighted by what they learn, and so they agree to try to break this bond. What I like about this is that it’s a story where, while Klaus may be intrigued by Caroline, he still chooses power over his soulmate. Or does he? 

A favorite scene: 

“I tried, so hard, to be good.” Caroline closes her eyes to the blood dripping down her forehead. “So freakin’ hard. I was on the bunny diet. I thought if I ever showed you who I was, my soulmate would run for the hills.”

 “Aren’t you glad then that it’s me?”

Klaroline Fic Rec Event 2020 - Day 4 Sep 3rd: Fluff Title: The Sound of Settling (Link: AO3) Author: @galvanizedfriend / Yokan (Link: AO3) Summary: Klaus hates his job at Mikaelson & Sons. He hates wearing a suit. He also hates his brothers constantly butting into his life. Everything will be better once he gets his much desired transfer to the New York branch. Caroline Forbes is the owner of Mystic Café, and when Klaus accidentally wanders into her coffee shop, his whole perspective changes. [AH/Coffee Shop!AU where Klaus is a lawyer. Lots of Mikaelsons and some Carenzo friendship.] Warnings: none Status: Complete

Why you should read it: I love this story so much! It’s a variation of the coffee shop meet cute, and I love how @galvanizedfriend​ can take a simple setting like a coffee shop and making something beautiful out of it!!! All Klaus wants in life is to get away from his family, so he works himself to the bone in hopes of getting a transfer. One day he comes across Caroline’s coffee shop as he’s looking for his next coffee fix, but discovers reasons to keep coming back... and the best part about all this? This beautifully written story reminds us that sometimes, what we think we want is not what we truly want.

A favorite scene:

"Well, you haven't run for the hills. I think you turned out pretty ok, if you ask me." Caroline pushes up her seat and winks at him. "Duty calls."

Klaus is left in a state of absolute disbelief as she walks back to the counter. Thirty-two years of age and this might be the first time anyone claims he's turned out ok. His ex-girlfriend with a degree to validate her opinion would probably have some points to make.

He doesn't know if Caroline is completely crazy or if she genuinely sees something no other person ever did. Klaus is almost afraid of believing the latter.

Klaroline Fic Rec Event 2020 - Day 5 Sep 4th: Smut Title: Battle Lines (Links: FFN | AO3) Author: Jinxed-Wood (Links: FFN | AO3) Summary: Battle Lines [Dark Season 2 AU ] The little cheerleader had seemed the perfect candidate for Klaus's purposes, an outlier of the herd if you will, but as he tried to bend her to his will, it quickly became apparent she was not the pushover she had first appeared to be... Warnings: character deaths, dubious(?) consent, mentions of sexual assault and trauma Status: Incomplete

Why you should read it: This is a dark season 2 AU where morality is very, very gray. Klaus decides to use Caroline to spy on her friends. Caroline, on the other hand, is used to being underestimated, and she takes advantage of it to ensure her survival. In an interesting turn of events, Klaus’ actions result in Caroline getting what she deserves, which is better. However, since this fic is incomplete, I have no idea how it’s going to end! Also, tons and tons of smutty goodness!

A favorite scene: 

He collapsed on top of her and waited for their thrum of their hearts to ease, stroking her hair absently as his mind turned over the future. Truth be told, Caroline's usefulness as a spy had been somewhat eroded as a result of his earlier than planned return to Mystic Falls, but he found her...diverting, and that was not a phrase he used for a lot of people. Perhaps he could convince her to make a more permanent arrangement?

But that meant he would have to to seduce her into his life as well as his bed, and what did he have to offer that Caroline Forbes would want?

Klaroline Fic Rec Event 2020 - Day 6 Sep 5th: Supernatural!AU (undine!Caroline and Originals!Mikaelsons) Title: Drown Me in Ash, Burn Me in Salt (links: FFN | AO3) Author: @cupcakemolotov (links: FFN | AO3) Summary: Cursed with legs by a witch as the gods were unmade, Caroline is a relic of ancient times. Bored and lonely, her interest is peaked by the newest predators in the world - vampires. And in particular, Klaus Mikaelson, with his monsters teeth and the wolf caged in his blood. Warnings: some blood and gore, nothing explicit Status: Complete

Why you should read it: If you’re looking for powerful Caroline and the Mikaelsons, this is it! This is a rather lengthy 14k-word one-shot, and one that I find myself turning to time and time again. @cupcakemolotov does an incredible job building worlds upon worlds, and this is no exception. I love that in this world, Caroline is older than the Mikaelsons (but not an Original), an ancient creature who finds amusement in this dysfunctional family and keeps them around because she can. I love her interactions with the Mikaelson siblings, of the way she seamlessly moves through the world on her own terms and no one else’s.

A favorite scene:  

“So, you’re more of a siren?” Klaus asked thoughtfully, head tilting as he faced her with no fear.

Caroline sighed and disentangled herself from the chains and corpse. “What is it with humans and naming things?”

“Power,” Klaus murmured as she reached for his locks. “Dominion does not come easily, against the unnamed night terrors. Why are you helping us?”

“I’m bored,” Caroline told him, switching to Rebekah’s chains. “Your little vampire creations are amusing, even if you taste like the grave.”

  Klaroline Fic Rec Event 2020 - Day 7 Sep 6th: Free for all! Title: A Pregnant Pause (Links: FFN | AO3) Author: @supremeuppityone (Links: FFN | AO3) Summary: Klaroline supernatural AU multi-chap. Pregnant and alone, Caroline meets a woman named Rebekah, and an unexpected friendship is formed. But then, her ridiculously attractive asshat of a brother starts inserting himself into their lives, causing all kinds of trouble. Despite being distracted by those dimples, she notices something seems a bit off about the Mikaelsons... Warnings: discussions on abortion Status: Incomplete

Why you should read it: It should go without saying that this is one of my FAVORITE Klaroline fics of all time. This features a clueless and pregnant human Caroline who finds herself entangled with the MIkaelson family. I absolutely adore the Caroline/Rebekah friendship that forms, the way Caroline wins over each of the Mikaelson siblings, and the way they find themselves drawn to her in turn. This story makes me laugh and cry, and I appreciate @supremeuppityone’s writing SO MUCH.

A favorite scene:

Clearing her throat, she told Rebekah, “You’ll figure it out. And I’ll help.”

She favored Caroline with a weak smile. “I thought I was supposed to be helping you.”

“So, we’ll help each other then.” Caroline laid back against one of the fluffy pillows on the chaise, a forearm over her eyes as she let out a soft groan.

So here we go! One epic belated post!