#and that neither his mother or father were very present or caring about him while growing up

[imagionary]

Happy 20 years of not speaking to each other

[mariespen]

Birthday Reunion ¡! ❞

bf!rafe cameron x daddy issues!reader ¡! ❞ warnings: swearing, drinking, implied drinking problems, implied body shaming, mentions of anxiety, degrading comments summary: “What did I do to deserve you..”

based on this request!

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Your light pink heels tapped down the long staircase of Tannyhill, the curved architecture giving you the perfect princess moment. The only difference was that instead of a ballroom of people at the bottom, it was simply your boyfriend, Rafe Cameron. It didn’t matter, though. People would have thought you were real royalty just by the way his jaw hung when he saw you in the pretty dress he picked out just for your birthday present. It swished around your thighs, bringing his favorite parts of your body to focus… maybe too far into focus.

Your soft giggle broke him out of his star-struck trance. You couldn’t help it, he looked so cute in his formalwear for your birthday dinner. Just as your heels touched down on the ground, Rafe swept you up into his loving embrace.

“Looking fuckin’ amazing, hm?” He said with a grin, love coating his gaze as he looked down at you. All you could do was giggle. 

You poor thing, he always left you speechless.

Rafe’s face softened. Any form of laughter that left your sweet, glossy lips was music to his ears. You kept him close to him for a while and he let you, of course. Tonight was supposed to be fun, a care-free date between you and Rafe. However, it was your mother’s genius idea to bring the family together and celebrate your special day, all together. A family reunion on your birthday.. why did Rafe let you agree to this?

“Gotta cover up..” He muttered, busying himself with your cardigan and handing you one of his bigger zip-ups.

“Thank you..” You said gently, letting him help you drape it over your shoulders to keep you warm.

“Mhm.. you ready princess?” Rafe asked cautiously, still prepared to call you in sick from this whole thing.

“Yeah..” You said, a small frown on your face as you wrapped yourself closer into his sweater.

“Okay, let’s go, yeah?” He said, obviously disappointed that you were so insistent on this, somehow still supporting you.

Rafe knew how these things played out. He could predict it now, keeping you close as the two of you tried to socialize awkwardly with your family and then eventually your father showed up. Usually it was late, most of the time he was already a little drunk, and there was a 100% chance that he was not going to leave the reunion sober by any means. That’s the basic routine besides the fact that in-between downing every drink on the table, your precious daddy would degrade you until you ended up right back in Rafe’s arms.

Right back where you’ve always belonged.

The car ride was silent besides your girlie music and the soft sound of Rafe’s hand occasionally brushing against your dress when he rubbed your thigh comfortingly.

You had a tendency to react poorly in anxious situations, he knew this for a fact. Rafe planned on keeping you very very close tonight.

Pulling up the prolonged driveway of your mother’s expensive house on figure 8 made you want to throw up. She moved from your old house into this atrocity of a mansion, so at least there weren't any prominent reminders of your lonely childhood. It comforted you enough to take Rafe’s hand and let yourself out of the car. 

The two of you winced as you walked up to the door. Neither of you really wanted to be there all that much, Rafe arguably hated it even more than you (which was impressive).

He reached over your head to knock on the door. Five hard knocks that echoed through the soft music playing within the house. Your eyes darted around the cars, thankful to not see your father there yet. Maybe he forgot, he could be so drunk off his ass that he forgot about you.

For the better, probably.

Your mom eagerly opened the door, instantly wrapping both you and Rafe in a tipsy yet somehow still loving hug. Rafe greeted her with a hesitant smile as you slowly worked up the motivation to plaster on your own faux smile for the rest of the night.

Then began the awkward greetings. Your aunt and uncle instantly greeted you, your aunt marvling at Rafe for maybe a second too long. He smiled kindly at them. Rafe had always been better at putting on a nice show. You were thrown around the room, embraced in many of your family’s drunken arms and sluggish greetings. Somehow, even through all of the commotion, Rafe’s gentle hand remained on your back.

Hours passed and you felt a gasp of relief leave you as you realized the reunion was nearly over and your father had yet to make a show. You stood near the front door with Rafe over your shoulder, giddy to leave the moment that the clock struck 9pm. 

You felt his hand come down to your waist and clutch you closer to him, causing you to flinch slightly in surprise. Your heart stopped, realizing quickly why his grip was so prominent on your side. 

Dragging himself into the house through the long, arched doorway was no one but your own father. His drunken gaze skimmed over the crowd before instantly dropping on you. One quick and judgmental up and down look comprised his purpose; to make your life hell.

His suit was too tight on his body as he breathed sharply and made his way over to both you and Rafe. You avoided Rafe’s gaze entirely, not wanting to witness the narrow stare of his eyes.

“Dad!” You said softly, beginning to pull away from Rafe until he pulled you right back to him. Your fake smile must have been obvious because all you got from your father was a scoff and a judgmental glance before he stumbled into the party.

Rafe was already urging you out of the door by the time your mother came to tell you that it was time for cake, “your favorite!” She said with a squeal, motioning to a chocolate ice cream cake. 

Which wasn’t your favorite, but you’ve learned not to care. 

You got ushered to the large dining room, Rafe shuffling behind you and looking ready to kill anyone who took one step too close to your shaking body. All of your family surrounded the table, leaving barely enough room for you to fit in next to your fast-melting cake

A short and unorganized rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ was sung by the slurred voices of your family as you stood quietly, shyly smiling and feeling Rafe’s comforting hand holding yours. More cake was brought out to provide for all of the guests as your mother happily laughed with drunken joy.

Your piece was brought to you, a smaller slice than most. As you leaned down to grab your fork, you felt the plate leave your weak grip. Standing up in an instant, you were ready to pout at Rafe and tell him to get his own slice. However, you were met by your father’s mean and unforgiving stare.

“You don’t need… this.” He said plainly, obviously scanning your outfit and figure.

Tears swarmed your eyes as he spat more at you. Over time you had learned to tune him out, but you hadn’t heard his words for months now, nearly a year. 

“It’s disgusting that you walk into your mother’s house looking like a slut.” He said with a scoff, either unaware of the tears dripping down your face or choosing to ignore them (it was the latter).

“Thank god you have a boyfriend, hopefully he keeps you in your place.” Your father sneered as you vaguely watched Rafe push through the crowd to get back to you after he was pushed away in the cake swarm.

“What did I do to deserve you?” Your stare was blank when Rafe finally got to you, shoving your father away without hesitation and taking your purse from your slouching arm as he pulled you away from everyone. Rafe’s grip on your body was persistent as he took you through the house, through the front door, and eventually through his car door. You were still trying to tune out everything that had happened, proving to be non-responsive when Rafe begged you to answer his questions.

“C’mon princess, tell me what he said.” Rafe said through gritted teeth as one hand gripped his steering wheel with white knuckles and the other softly brushed over your palm.

The world was silent, your eyes deep and dull and you stared down at your pink heels when Rafe took you into Tannyhill.

“Hey, baby.. talk to me.” Rafe said gently, his thumbs already flicking away your tears as the two of you sat on the luxurious couch. His pleading voice eventually got back into your head and you nodded softly.

“Oh sweetheart..” Rafe whispered, starting to say something else before you let yourself fall back into him and bury yourself into his warm body. You hid away from the spiraling world as he whispered into your ear.

“I got you, princess. I’m here.” “Want you to only listen to my voice, don’t let him stay in your head.”

“I love you, sweetheart.” His lips peppered two soft kisses against both of your rosy, swollen cheeks before more tears poured out of your eyes. You were slowly coming back to yourself and Rafe couldn’t fully tell if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

Your body came to you in small tremors, your poor shoulders shaking as your sweet and honey-like voice rasped over with deep sobs. Rafe held you close, whispering gently into your ear for a while, eventually feeling you relax into his arms.

“I’m sorry I… I just-“ You started, trying to apologize for your sudden outburst.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. Focus on me.” Rafe said, kissing you softly and smiling as he felt your sticky lip gloss smear against his lips.

You smiled back, suddenly focused on the way he looked down at you, opening his mouth to tell you more.

“Aw look at that..” He said, kissing your smile and grinning into the gentle contact before pulling away.

“What did I do to deserve you..” He whispered with adoration in his eyes as he scooped you right back up and held you to his chest.

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[daddychi-01]

Batman Headcanon

Give me a 9 or 10-year-old Dick Grayson who has been Robin for a little bit but is still figuring out his relationship with Bruce Wayne. They are more than a guardian and his ward but not quite yet father and son. They both want that but neither of them have gotten up the courage to say it.

Now give me a hostage situation, during some kind of gala or charity event for the school. One where a lot of rich people and their rich kids are present so it’s very important for Bruce and Dick to be selling the whole secret ID thing, so they have to looking just as pathetic and scared as the other people around them.

The bad guys immediately recognize Bruce Wayne and his brat, and they pull Dick away from Bruce. They threaten Dick’s life, saying that Bruce better cooperate or he’ll have to find a new orphan to to take care of, not like it would be a problem since Gotham has so many.

Dick thinks the fear in Bruce’s eyes is an act. That’s not just Bruce after all, it’s Batman. The Dark Knight. He’s literally not allowed to be afraid, so that look can’t be real.

But it is.

Bruce hasn’t been this terrified since the night he lost his parents. His heart is racing and he has to physically push down a panic attack because that isn’t going to save Dick right now. He doesn’t know what to do. He can’t fight these people, not when he is Bruce Wayne. Without the cape and cowl, he has to be a helpless playboy.

So he does the only thing he can think of: he begs.

Bruce Wayne drops to his knees and he pleads with the masked goons to spare Dick’s life. He’s just a boy. A boy who has already lived through enough trauma. Bruce understands if these people hate him and if they want to hurt him instead, that’s fine. But he begs them not to hurt Dick.

He promises to give them anything. They can have his fortune, his life, whatever they want. Just spare Dick. That’s all he asks.

And a masked woman steps forward, leaning down in front of Bruce with what he knows is a sick smirk. The air around them thins and Dick feels himself shiver fifteen feet away. He hadn’t been expecting Bruce to say any of those things. Sure they were close, they had to be as the Dynamic Duo. But he thought after his parents died, there wouldn’t be another adult who would speak about him like that.

That would care enough to swallow their pride and beg, just for him.

Dick’s ears perk up when he hears the woman speak.

“Anything?” She asks. She sounds delighted, almost like she had won some sort of bet at a bar and not that she was leading a hostage situation.

“Anything.” Bruce confirms.

“Okay.” She stands, pointing her gun in Dick’s general direction. “I want your Mommy’s pearls.”

Bruce’s body freezes in shock.

Dick closes his eyes now resigned. Bruce may have been willing to say he would give anything but those were just words. It was one thing to say it, it was entirely different to actually do it. And Martha Wayne’s pearls were too high a price.

Dick can’t blame Bruce either. He imagined being asked to give up his mother’s wedding ring and felt his stomach turn. No, he wouldn’t begrudge Bruce for changing his mind—

“Done.”

Dick’s head shoots up, eyes wide with surprise. He had to have misheard. Bruce didn’t. He wouldn’t…

“Give me a phone. I’ll call my Butler and he will bring them here.”

And Dick cries. Not because someone is holding him hostage, he doesn’t care about that, but because a wave of realization crashes down onto him with an unforgiving strength.

He isn’t an orphan anymore. He has a dad. Bruce loves him.

Bruce ends up calling Alfred and Alfred, being the badass that he is, gives the Gotham PD a heads up but drives there anyway just so he can sucker punch the woman who demanded his late mistress’s pearls just to psychologically torture his son while holding his grandson hostage.

He then takes the pair home. There’s a small tin of cookies in the back for them to share on the drive back.

[thehollowwriter]

I think we should talk more about the mysgony when it comes to parents in media, and how fathers are favoured and praised for the most the most basic shit while mothers are demonised for making mistakes or being bad. This is gonna be a long one, buckle up.

I hate Mrs Rosehearts as much as the next guy, but it's unfair that Mr Rosehearts is not given similar criticism for allowing his wife to treat Riddle the way he does. I hardly see people bring him up apart from mentioning that Riddle's parents probably have an unhappy marriage, and some people say something along the lines of "poor Mr Rosehearts, struggling with a wife like that".

Of course, we don't know enough about his character to gauge how Mrs Rosehearts treats him, bit it's clear he just passively stands to the side when it comes to whatever Mrs Rosehearts wants to do with Riddle. That itself is very harmful and it's own form of abuse, imo.

The same applies to Alador Blight from the Owl House. He's praised for being a wonderful dad that finally came through and stood up to his "horrible wretched bitch of a wife" (who, if she was a guy, would probably have more people analysing her and trying to find ways to sympathise with her just saying)..

And while, yes, he did stand up to her and that's a good thing, the general consensus is he was a brilliant dad from the start that was held back by his wife's wicked ways. But... that's not true? His first appearance is him telling Amity to stop being friends with Willow. He ignores his children constantly, and, like Mr Rosehearts, stands passively to the side when Odaliah treats her children like her property.

He's a neglectful parent at best and just as concerned with image and status at Odaliah at worst. But... that stuff is just forgotten. Most people just say "we thought he was bad but it turns out he was manipulated by his wife". He is HIS OWN PERSON. You cannot just blame everything on his "evil manipulative wife" (which is also smt that sometimes happens irl when both parents are abusive). He is still fully capable of making his own decisions.

And again, it's unfortunate, but if Odaliah were to be given his treatment or if Alador were a woman, the general response would be "That's sad but not an excuse! I can't believe she was forgiven!"

The worst I can think of atm, is Silco and Vi from Arcane. Now ofc they're not married. But the circumstances are similar.

Silco is praised to the high heavens for being one of the best dads in animation (#1 goes to Doofenshmirtz ofc, which I agree with) and the reasons for this are because he... shows his care, puts Jinx first, and loves her. Wow. Fucking groundbreaking am I right. The bar is soooo high/s

The thing is, Jinx is a child soldier. She works for Silco, protects his shipments of Shimmer, takes out the enemies that need taken out, etc. He found her as a young child, and when we cut to the present, she's murdering people without so much as flinching, even delighting in it, and suffering badly from trauma and hallucinations.

Obviously, Jinx was not given the care she needed, and was instead trained to assist Silco.

Am I denying Silco loves her? Of course not! He clearly does. But that's just not good enough. He's a loving dad, but not a good one. He's not the father that neither Jinx nor Powder needed.

Meanwhile, we have Vi. Vi loves Powder, protects her, cares for her, tries to keep her out of harm, stands up for her, and so on. She cares so deeply for Powder, and you can see it. The moment she got out of prison, her first goal was to find Powder.

However, because she hit Powder once, and shouted at her, she's apparently an abusive monster who never cared about Powder. Reminder, she hit Powder because her entire family was killed in front of her and then she learned Powder was the reason that happened. She was like... 14? And she immediately left to calm down. She did not abandon Powder, she left to take a breather because she realised she was too angry. And when she came back, she was drugged and arrested.

Silco is a grown adult who purposefully flooded the streets of the Undercity with a highly addictive drug, turned Powder into a soldier, and is generally a terrible person, even if he is a three dimensional amd well written antagonist.

Vi started the story as a teenager suffering poverty and discrimination just like Silco, had to deal with her own parents death, then her adoptive family was killed in front of her, and then she was forcefully taken from her sister. And yet, people are convinced Vi is a terrible and abusive sister who never loved Powder?

The only example worse than this, methinks, is Stella and Stolas from Helluva Boss.

Stella is a shitty mother who ignores her daughter, which the the audience is shown via a scene were Octavia is having a nightmare and she tells Stolas to deal with it. She frequently screams and swears at Stolas and throws things at him, with no regard for her daughter's presence or feelings.

This is pretty terrible, right? Of course! Everyone knows Stella is a horrible mother.

Stolas on the other hand, is praised for being such an loving and caring father, who tries his best. He even has a song with Octavia!

Well, he also: openly talks about having sex with Blitz and how much he likes it while she was right there, told her people want her money and her body, generally doesn't pay much attention to her either bc he's wallowing about Blitz not loving him back, and doesn't give her feelings much regard.

And yet, the misogyny extends beyond just Stella because people generally agree that Octavia is ungrateful and doesn't appreciate Stolas enough. They get mad at her for disliking the fact that Stolas is cheating on her mother with an imp who's been nothing but rude to her and ruining their family further, and even mock her for feeling unloved. Hell even Brandon, one of the creators, has allegedly recently called her a "cockblocking slut" which, frankly, is a disgusting thing to say about a 17 year old girl.

Idk man I'm just tired.

[laurancezvahlslefteyebrow]

TRAVIS TIME TRAVIS TIME

i had such a hard time drawing him i was so scared i wasn’t doing him justice 😭

headcanon time babeyy

His natural form is a cross between human and demon, naturally. he only allows himself to be like this when he’s alone or with Eseryt. He’s at his most powerful like this (not including demon form), as shapeshifting causes strain if he holds it for too long.

He can shape shift into any living creature, but he cannot turn into specific people.

His father has the ability to enter his mind and puppet him around if his defenses are down. In order for Travis to be weak enough for this, he must have put some strain on his power, like holding his human form for too long *wink wink*

When his father is in control of his body, his eyes turn from green to purple.

Transforming into his demon form puts a great strain on his body, and can be very painful. He only willingly does it if he absolutely needs a power boost.

His mother, Olle Valkrum, was trained her whole life to fight the Demon Warlock. He had been feuding with her family and their island since Enki’s time. Olle, being a descendant of Enki himself.

The Demon Warlock one day disguised himself as a man named Micheal and whooed Olle. He spent months gaining her trust as Micheal, while simultaneously fighting her as the Demon Warlock as to not draw attention. Eventually Olle became pregnant and gave birth to Travis. Appalled at this inhuman creature she created, this is when Micheal revealed himself to be the Demon Warlock all along. Olle raised Travis to the best of her abilities, training him the same way she herself had been trained, until one fateful day when she lost her life.

Shortly after everyone returned from the Irene Realm (which he of course had no idea about), he started having dreams of a girl with red hair and a scarred face. He could interact with her, but he could not touch, speak to, or hear her.

A while after the dreams began, he came across this very girl in the woods one day. Assuming it was a trick by his father, he rushed her. Though later she revealed herself to be Eseryt Yrva, a girl who’s group crashed on Enki Island and were just looking for a way out.

He and Eseryt eventually became very close and romantically involved. No Travlyn doesn’t happen (sorry guys). It never felt right to me. Not only was Katelyn always mean to Travis, but I’ve always thought she was a lesbian. (She is in my rewrite)

Travis is NOT a creepy perv!!! He’s just socially awkward and doesn’t understand social norms or ques. He doesn’t have much of a filter and will often unintentionally make people uncomfortable or offend them, though he always means well.

His lack of filter is part of why Es likes him. He’s honest, which is rare.

He’s a lot smarter than he lets on, or that people give him credit for. He has a lot of time to himself, which he spends reading and researching. He also is an incredibly skilled fighter and survivalist.

He’s never been fond of fighting. Much more preferring things like reading, writing, and painting. He’ll paint or write about whatever he sees around him.

Once he learns certain social norms and ques, he sticks to them religiously. He only wants to make people feel ok and safe around him.

He’d sacrifice himself for the people he cares about in a heartbeat a thousand times over and over again. trait he gained from his mother.

Travis was born female but shortly after he was born, he physically shifted to male and stayed that way. He can shift between male and female (or neither/both) at will, but prefers to present as male.

He generally uses he/him but doesn’t mind they/them. But please not It. That makes him feel more disconnected from his human side.

[wondwaeland]

Eden’s Court: Spawn Point

an AU of Eden’s Court even though this AU JUST started

It's rare for children to arrive in Eden's Court, especially those that resemble members so closely.

Much like the other members, they arrived at the front gate with questions and confusion. All they knew is that they were looking for their parents.

Shout out to @spyderlondon (again) for helping develop these digital spawns

Click “Keep Reading” to see more about each addition.

Showtime - Nestor and Zoya

The Heir and The Jester didn't know how to react when they were presented with two children. Caine took an instant liking to them, welcoming them into the family quickly. Pomni was a little more hesitant since she had yet to address her feelings about him.

[design above is the initial sketch version]

Though their parents are the Heir and the Jester, Nestor and Zoya are known commonly as the Prince and Princess. They were the first of the children to arrive at the court.

While both take after their mother in terms of looks, Nestor takes after his father in terms of heart. He wants what is best for his sister and wants her to enjoy the world around them. He is curious but steadfast. When he has a goal, he will pursue it to the end. He developed a knack for magic like his father, using the ability to entertain the younger members of the court while their parents worked away. He is also quite a skilled fighter, becoming fiercely protective at the drop of a hat should someone threaten the ladies of his family.

Zoya is very close to her brother, trusting him more than the man meant to be her father. Though she is wary of the world, she is willing to explore as long as her brother and mom are there to be with her. Once she is comfortable, she will speak her mind and be more active in scenarios. Much like her mother, Zoya took to the trapeze with an almost practiced ease, even though neither of them had ever swung before. Her brother may be a fighter, but Zoya is a runner. At the first sight of danger, she is on her way in the opposite direction.

Caine easily fell into the role of mentor and did his best to be a father to Nestor and Zoya. With his son being gifted in the magical arts as well, the two would spend time outside of Court duties honing on what type Nestor possessed and how he should wield it. He would be the one to read Zoya to bed and the one to take her around the land for entertainment. In the end, he’s trying his best to b a good father in the absence of having an example himself.

Pomni, on the other hand, was bit more wary in accepting that these two were supposed to be her kids. Though she joined in on the mini-family adventures, she still felt like this wasn’t real. It wasn’t until Zoya tried to get to know her that Pomni realized that they were all learning together. Caine, Nestor, Zoya, and herself were all learning how to be a family.

Now if only the kids can get their parents to talk through their emotions…

Bunnydoll - Judy, Lola, and Briar

The triplets were an unexpected addition to the household since their supposed parents had no inkling of even enjoying each other's company.

Ragatha easily fell into her role as their mom, making sure each of them were comfortable and settled in before her and Jax had a talk. Though Jax may not show it, he cares for each of these little buggers. Right now, the two have a great co-parent routine going on.

[design above is the initial sketch version]

While Ragatha may be a Housekeeper and Jax may be a Fighter, the children toe the line of assistance. Judy and Briar seem to lean more towards the household side while Lola wants to take after her father and fight things.

Don’t let these sweet faces fool you. Each of the girls know how to get what they want. Judy has quite the control of her crocodile tears. Ragatha usually gives in immediately while Jax takes about 10 minutes to fully react and give in. Lola likes to play the reversal game on her mom, saying/doing something opposite to get the reaction she wants. Briar just does things and asks for forgiveness later. With how quiet she can be, it can take a little before anyone notices.

When it comes to interacting with the court, results may vary. Judy does her best to help out wherever she can, even if she may be too small to do so. Lola is a natural source of chaos, having been the only one ON RECORD to bite Caine while unprovoked. Briar is known to be quiet but when she does speak, it’s blunt and to the point.

The three girls love their parents equally, but would love them more if they could be a full family. Let’s just say that they are experts at manipulating situations in their favor.

Kinger - Petrov, Lopez, Alek, Alba, Balto, Catalina, Benoni, and Sicilia

Kinger's little gaggle of children showed up outside of his room. Seeing the little ones made his heart grow and accept his pawns with open arms.

Unlike the other kids, these eight don’t have titles or roles just yet since they are quite young and shouldn’t have heavy responsibilities just yet.

It was somewhat of comfort to have the kids in his company, said it reminded him of days before. He was a natural with them, easily balancing the needs of each of them without making another feel left out.

[design above is the initial sketch version]

Since they all arrived together, no one is quite sure who the oldest of the bunch is. With how they interact with each other, Kinger suspects it to be the girls. No specifics, just the girls.

Much like their dad, their personalities are on a wide range. While some are timid and shy, the others tend to get into trouble easily - acting much like the Gloink infestation of 'XX.

The pawns are a little bit harder to keep entertained than the others, especially because they seem to act around the younger end of the age range - around maybe five or six. For now, Gangle and Zooble take turns babysitting the squadron of pawns while Kinger attends to training his soldiers and attending meetings with Caine.

[soullessjack]

i don’t think there’s anything new I can add to the performative-jack studies because it’s like..very cut and dry, guy who’s constantly perceived as a threat does his best to seem innocuous and friendly..but there is an underlying layer of exactly how jack tries to present himself to others (that I’ve definitely already posted about but whatever).

soo like. take this outline for example:

Jack: “He still has to be killed.” Cas: “Doing that might kill Dean as well, so [I] doubt any of [us] would be willing to do that.” Jack: “I would.”

‘Cas is a little shocked by how calmly Jack says this, and Jack says he knows what Cas is thinking; that this is Lucifer’s gene pool talking. It’s not. “I’m not my father. I’m not my mother. I’m me.”

“You’re all so focused on saving Dean, but Dean is Michael’s vessel. There’s a good chance Dean isn’t even alive. Is Jimmy Novak still alive?* Could anyone save him? It’s Michael. And Michael has to die.” ‘Cas stares at Jack, who looks coldly collected.

post-war jack is straight up traumatized and jaded by everything he’s seen and experienced in apocalypse world, still making efforts to be kind and sympathetic of course, but with a bit more edge to him now. for six months he’s been fixated on killing Michael, and he’s way more willing to do the Hard Thing (kill Dean) than he might’ve been before to do so (which actually reminds me a LOT of the chicken/snake story from ouroboros but we won’t get off subject).

obviously he still cares about/loves Dean, we’ve seen that in the rest of S14, but he’s also seen what Michael did to another world and wouldn’t put anything before preventing that. *he’s also very willing to hit Cas where it hurts with the Jimmy comment

but the thing that sticks out is Castiel immediately assuming that Jack’s calm, cold collectedness in the way he talks about killing Dean/Michael is somehow evidence of Lucifer’s influence or heritage; that Jack couldn’t possibly feel this way by himself. even Jack refutes it, stating that he’s neither of his parents (ie, it’s his own decision to kill Dean if it’s necessary). I think it’s also interesting he mentioned not being his mother, because I think that’s why Cas is so surprised by his demeanor and jumps to attribute it to Lucifer.

from day one Kelly’s heritage was the only argument Sam and Cas had against the idea that Jack would be evil. to be fair, Jack does take after Kelly a lot; he even looks like her to some extent. but treating Kelly’s heritage as the It-factor that makes Jack good, treating him as basically an extension of Kelly who must be good and kind because she was good and kind (literally an inverse of how Lucifer’s heritage is treated) is still just dehumanizing.

the distrust he faces is understandable coming from AU Bobby and people who are being actually displaced and exterminated by Michael, but the fact that Jack is subject to the same scrutiny from his own chosen father as well adds to why he represses these parts of himself so much, why he puts on that naive nuclear-son personality and basically butters everyone up all the time.

I think the only times when Jack has actually unmasked himself were at points of extreme low empathy, because most of the time his facade is put on for the sake of other people and the fear they feel towards him. he obviously wouldn’t have to worry about that while he’s human, but like I said, he’s literally a war veteran/criminal by this point. he’s gonna have a little more edge to him than before, and a little less empathy for the small things.

the second and probbaly more obvious one is his behavior while soulless, completely lacking the empathy required to care about keeping up his facade—so much so that he just bluntly tells Mary that he’s annoyed by everyone eggshell-walking around him like he’s a time bomb again. then, *checks script* like a flip switched, he goes back to that facade and reassures Mary that he knows they’re doing it out of love. He’s blatantly performing his emotional responses now.

jack is still soulless for like…three (?) episodes in S15, and still incapable of really feeling any emotion despite being able to logically process them. like he is literally so empty inside that he resorts to binge eating to feel some kind of sensation. but he’s consistently playing up the happy-go-lucky shtick when he isn’t just depressed and withdrawn (especially the church basement scene where he immediately gets the dumb Bambi look when he sees Cas after his failed cannibalism attempt).

got a headache while writing this so I’ll just leave it here but like. A Lot of the reason why Jack performs so much is because specific traits he shows are not only taken as threats, but are also associated with Lucifer and treated as signs of his “true nature” <- click that link it’s important for context

Mk that’s all byeeee (*´ -`)

[jamdoughnutmagician]

Someone Special

(Steve Harrington x Reader) Fluff

Summary:Last minute Christmas shopping was not something that you had planned on, but neither was running into your high school crush. Can the festive period help bring you close together?

Word Count:2,630

This fic was written as a companion fic to the very lovely @slutty-thevampireslayer who has written her side as a Jonathan Byers x reader (which you should totally check out too!!)

Masterlist Steve Harrington Masterlist

It’s the day before Christmas Eve as you rattle down the road sitting next to your best friend in her car. It's a tight squeeze with the two of you and your suitcases packed into her small car, but it’s all a part of the holiday experience as you make your way into Hawkins.

“So, what have you got left to do before Christmas day?” Your friend asks you, above the sound of George Michael's smooth voice filtering through the car's radio.

“I've still got to do some shopping, try to find gifts for my parents.” You huff. Your parents were always tough people to get presents for, and although leaving it to the last minute wasn’t the smartest decision, you remained hopeful you would find the perfect gifts for them.

“Cutting it kind of close aren't you?” She laughed. She was right though, you only had one day to find the perfect gift for your parents.

“I know, I know” you cringe. “But I'm going to find something, I just know it.” You said confidently. 

“Well good luck with that!” she cheered. “I’ll see you on Christmas Day” she calls out to you as you make your way out of her car. This year you and your family were spending Christmas at her place, with both of your families coming together to enjoy the festive period.  

You rushed into the arms of your parents as you got to their house, hugging them tightly after not seeing them for a while. 

“It’s so nice to have my girl back home!” your mother gushed, cooing over you and instantly trying to push food on you, insisting that it was only her job as a mother to take care of you.

“It does feel good to be back.” you smiled. You looked around the living room, and everything was just how you remembered it, albeit ornately decorated with beautiful Christmas decorations and a tall, sparkling tree in the corner of the room.

You spend the evening getting settled and making yourself comfortable in your old childhood bedroom, as you get ready for bed. Knowing that tomorrow you were going to have to join the hoard of last minute shoppers in the mall.

You find yourself in the middle of the busy shopping centre, the bright lights and christmas music is slowly becoming overwhelming for you as you desperately sift through the shelves.You’d already found a nice sweater and scarf for your father, and now you were looking for a nice gift for your mother. 

Your attention is elsewhere because you’re so focused on finding something that you accidently collide into the broad sweater-covered chest of another shopper.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorr- Steve?” you begin to stutter out your apologies when you realise that you had accidentally bumped into the boy that you had had a crush on for all of your highschool years. 

He’s a little older, but that head of hair is no less luxurious as when you first laid eyes on it. His broad frame is snuggled into a deep wine-red cable-knit sweater that fits him to absolute perfection.

Steve couldn’t believe his eyes. That girl that had been the object of his affections all throughout his high school days, but had been too stupid and afraid not to ask out for fear of what it might have done to his role as ‘King Steve’ , was standing right in front of him. He cringes now, thinking back on how he used to be, always so concerned about what people thought of him, and in the end it never even mattered.

But now he’s here, in the middle of a crowded department store, quietly thanking whatever gods were up there, that he’s been given a second chance. A second chance to redeem himself, and show you that he’s grown up a lot since high school.

“So, how are you? I haven’t seen you in ages?” he starts, keeping the conversation light.

“I’m doing well thanks, I’m back in town to spend the holidays with friends and family!” you smile “Just doing a little bit of last minute shopping. What about you, though? How are things with you?” 

“Things are good.” he nods, with a slight creeping flush rising to his cheeks. “Seem like we’re in the same boat with our last minute shopping trips though.” he chuckles with a pearly, boyish smile.

“Oh? Who are you shopping for?” you ask him.

“Robin.” he huffs. “Don’t get me wrong, she’s a great friend, but she is a hard one to nail down when it comes to gifts. Who are you shopping for?” he returns your question back to you.

“My mother. I just want to find something that she’s going to like.” you respond with a sigh. 

Steve’s eyes light up with an enthusiastic sparkle, like he's had a brilliant idea.

“Hey, how about we help each other find our gifts?” Steve offers. “Two heads are better than one, right?” that cheeky boyish smile gracing his features once more.

You smile, happily accepting his offer. Spending your Christmas eve doing last minute shopping was not your idea of a good time, but with Steve by your side, suddenly it didn't seem all that bad.

Steve had actually proved to be a great help in finding the perfect present for your mother, insisting that the dainty gold bracelet you had picked out for her was just the right thing. 

In turn you had helped him find a beautiful leather bound journal and pen set, as well as a book of poetry by Sappho that both you and Steve agreed that Robin would love.

With each of your successful gifts purchased, you and Steve had made your way to a little cafe in the centre of town. Sitting in a cosy corner of the cafe, each of you with your own mug of marshmallow-topped hot chocolate in your hands, talk turns to the big day tomorrow.

“So what’s happening in the Harrington household tomorrow?” you ask, sipping on your drink.

Steve looks a little sad all of a sudden, but he quickly masks it with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I was just going to spend it at home, dad’s away on one of his usual business trips, and mom doesn’t trust him not to let his hands wander, so they’re both three states away for Christmas.” he sighs dejectedly. 

“Wait, so you’re spending Christmas day by yourself?” you ask, your eyebrows drawing together in pity. You hate to imagine Steve all by himself in that big empty house.

“Yeah but it’s okay, I don’t want you to feel sorry for me.” He quickly brushes off.

“No.” you shake your head. “I won’t allow that. You’re spending Christmas with me, and my family. We’re all going to my friend’s house for the day.” You tell him with a smile.

“It’s fine, besides I wouldn’t want to impose on you and everyone else.” he frowns with a shake of his head.

“You’re not imposing, Steve.” you reassure him, reaching your hand across the table, placing your hand over his, your thumb rubbing over his knuckles softly. “I’m inviting you. Besides, the more the merrier I say!”

Maybe it was the sugar rush from the hot chocolate, or maybe it was the Christmas spirit in the air, but with the way your fingers are grazing against his knuckles as your eyes look sweetly into his, Steve can’t fight the warmth he feels deep in his chest. He can’t help but think how perfectly your hands fit together, and he hopes that you feel the same about him as he does about you.

You link your arm in Steve’s as you and your parents make your way to your friend’s house, carrying bags of presents on your arm as you walk up to the door.

You knock on the door and are immediately greeted by the welcoming smile of your friend who brings you into a tight hug. As he leans in close, she whispers in your ear.

“Tell me all about it.” she smirks, before pulling away from you to greet your parents, and Steve with a bright smile. She had been all too well aware of your crush on Steve in your high school years, jokingly teasing you about it whenever you would walk past him in the hallways between classes.

“Merry Christmas guys! Come in, come in!” she cheers as she gestures for you to make your way into her home.

You stay behind in the hallway as Steve and your parents go on in, wanting the chance to talk to her alone for a moment.

“I met him when I was shopping yesterday and we got to talking.” you say shyly “said he was spending Christmas day by himself, and I couldn’t bear the idea of him sitting all alone in that big empty house, so I invited him, I hope that’s okay with you?” you grimace, as she looks you over with an all-knowing smile.

“You know my mom always makes enough food to feed an army anyway!” she laughs, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “Besides, I’ve got a little confession of my own..” she trails off as you both make your way into her living room.

As you step through to the living room you see both your mom and your friend’s mom sitting beside each other on the sofa, chatting to Steve, who is now sat opposite Jonathan Byers. Your best friend’s high school crush, who you had in turn teased her about anytime she teased you about your crush on Steve.

“So, I happened to be walking around town yesterday, and I was admiring all the decorations, and the big tree in the town centre, and then I heard the sound of a camera going off behind me.” she begins to explain.  “I turn around to see Jonathan, there, camera-in-hand. Long story short, I invited him home for Christmas.”

You look over your friend’s shoulder to see both of your mothers gently grilling the poor unsuspecting boys on the couch about their relationships with their daughters. 

Both boys sporting matching flushed faces as they best try to answer the questions put to them.

“Why don’t we go over and help them out?” you smile at your friend, nodding your head over to your two guests.

“I think that’s a good idea.” she giggles as she links her arm with yours gently tugs you toward the couch.

You go to sit next to Steve, your shoulder bumping against his as you give him a shy smile. Steve takes this as his opportunity to lace his fingers between yours, to hold your hand like he always longed to. 

“So, Steve, how come you’re spending Christmas day with us, and not your parents?” your mother pries.

“Mom-” you start, ready to defend Steve from your mother’s invasive questions. You loved her, you really did, but your mother could sometimes be very nosy. However, Steve is all too happy to answer her as best as he can.

“What? I just want to know why this handsome young boy is suddenly choosing to spend his Christmas with my daughter, that’s all.” Your mother defends.

Steve’s face redden’s slightly out of embarrassment of having been called ‘a handsome young boy’ by your mother, but he plays it cool. Call him old fashioned, but Steve liked you a lot, and he really wanted your mother to like him too. He wanted to see you more than just for Christmas, and having the nod of approval from mom never hurt.

“Well, my parents are out of town this year, my father’s business has a conference meeting over in Arkansas, and so my mother went out to meet him a few days ago,” he explains. “And when I told y/n this, she very kindly offered to invite me here for Christmas.” Steve finishes, looking over to you with a rosy smile. 

Your mother nods approvingly, smiling at you as you beam brightly at Steve. 

“Hey, Steve? Can I grab you for a moment? I want to show you something.” you ask, giving him an out of continuing an awkward conversation with your mom.

“Oh, uh, sure.” he nods as he gets up. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment.” he smiles politely to your mother.

You tug him away to a room in the back of your friend's house.

“I’m so sorry about my mother, she can be a bit overbearing sometimes.” You start, worried that your mother may have scared Steve off before you'd even had a chance to talk to him properly.

“She's just looking out for you, it's nice, she cares about you.” 

“Yeah I suppose so.” You sigh. “I wanted to give you your present now, away from everyone else.” You say as you hand over a small gift bag to Steve.

“You didn't have to get me anything.” Steve blushes.

“No, no, it's Christmas day, I wanted you to have a little something to open.”

You watch as Steve opens up the bag and reaches in, pulling out a soft navy blue scarf.

He smiles fondly at his gift, before wrapping it around his neck.

“How do I look?” He laughs, as he stands with an exaggerated pose to show off.

“It looks good on you, Steve!” 

He pulls you close into a warm hug. You feel safe in his arms, happy to be held by him, like this was how it was meant to be.

“Thank you, I love it.” He smiles as he pulls away from you. “I'm just sorry that I didn't get anything for you.” He says, his head ducking down, almost embarrassed. 

“No, no it's fine Steve, I don't need anything. Just having you here is better than any present I could ask for.”

Then Steve looks up between you, how either of you never noticed it was a mystery, and spots a decorative sprig of Mistletoe hanging above you.

You follow his eye line, looking up at the decorations hanging up.

“I know I didn't get you anything, but is there a chance you believe in Christmas traditions?” Steve smirks playfully, even with the heated flush adorably spreading across his cheeks. 

You feel giddy, excited and nervous all at once. He makes you feel exactly the same way as he did when you first laid eyes on him all those years ago back in high school. 

“You know, I think I do.” You nod, a bright smile spreading across your face.

Steve stepped closer to you, his hand coming up to gently cup your cheek, and his other hand resting comfortably on your hip, as he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours. His kisses were light, and soft, almost as if he were afraid that you might crumble under his touch, until you take the lead and wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer, eager to taste him on your lips. 

You pull away from each other, but neither of you stops looking in the other’s eyes. The blissfully quiet moment between the two of you felt perfect.

Until your peacefully romantic bubble is burst by someone coughing, alerting you to their presence.

“Uh..We’re about to start opening presents in a moment, if you guys wanna join us..” your friends laughs, slightly out of awkwardness at having caught you in a rather intimate moment.

With pair matching, slightly guilty smiles, you both have the grace to laugh about the being caught kissing under the mistletoe.

You take Steve by the hand, and tug him toward the living room to join everyone else.

“Come on, loverboy, let’s go enjoy our Christmas.” you smile.

@penguinsandpotterheads @xxhellfirebunnyxx

[hunter-sylvester]

I know you do character analysis, would you be alright elaborating about Hunter and his relationship with his parents? Everyone says he has mommy issues, but it looks like it could be a mixture of daddy issues as well.

I would fucking love to, Anon.

(Ao3 Character Analysis Series about Hunter)

I do think it’s very clear that he has mommy issues. From the small handful of references there are to her, it’s obvious. While he has clear on-screen issues with his father, he still keeps a picture of him and his dad on his bookshelf. His mother- however, is violently ripped from it. Something that can easily be read as a visual metaphor for how he feels about her absence from his life. Although I personally tend to write her as having been directly abusive which creates a slightly different whirlwind of issues, in either case she abandoned him. And we clearly see him display a fear of abandonment around Kevin. There’s a clear cause and effect there.

But I entirely agree that he also has daddy issues. It’s a noxious cocktail of neither parent being someone that understands him or knows how to make him feel at home. And it’s precisely that cocktail of issues that makes Hunter make so much sense to me as a character.

It’s not exactly my style to give fathers a lot of sympathy, but even without doing so, it's easy to see that everything Alan Sylvester does in canon shows he just has no idea what to do with Hunter. (Most notably when he literally gives up on parenting him in favor of dumping him in rehab).

He completely fumbles any weak attempts he does make at connecting with/parenting him and they all end in screaming matches.

“Sorry you’re just a little late with the whole ‘parenting’ thing” (when I tell you I feel that line)

Growing up with a parent (partially more, since his mother was around until 7th grade) present without anyone actually bothering to parent you, you end up growing crooked.

Can’t go any other way. Even if his parents were never mentioned, we’d know they were shitty parents based purely on Hunter’s issues.

In my mind, they’re both obviously neglectful. Evident both from the aforementioned quote as well as just the way that Hunter acts.

Each in their respective ways. His mother by literally removing herself from his life. His father by neglecting him emotionally, not hugging him, etc. (I'm assuming he never hugs Hunter based on the deeply awkward shoulder tap during the last scene of the film.) Also, this is a bit of a stretch based on vibes alone. But can you picture Alan cooking for Hunter? Can you picture them having dinner together? I can’t. It’s a bit of a headcanon but I personally believe Hunter has been making his own food for years. (note: this does not necessarily imply that he is a good cook)

Let’s also not forget that Hunter is just a seventeen year old boy. He is still a child (in canon). And a fucking troubled one at that.

One that likely grew up with nobody telling him it was ok to be him. No-one telling him he belonged. No-one showing him how to healthily handle his emotions. (This is one I blame heavily on the father.)

He had to figure everything out for himself. Reinvent the wheel at every step. Of course he’s gonna fuck up along the way. He’s just a kid.

Of course he freaks out when he thinks he’s losing Kevin, he’s already been shown that he can be discarded- and by one of the primary people that are supposed to be there for him.

Of course he’s a bit of a bitch about alcohol when he watches his father drink all the time and he would probably rather die than turn out like him.

I wouldn’t be surprised if Alan also contributed to Hunter’s inability to accept his sexuality. At the very lightest he’d be homophobic in that casual way dads are. The “I don’t care what they do behind closed doors” followed by the most homophobic ‘joke’ you can think of twenty minutes, if not seconds, later. But I wouldn't rule out more blatant queerphobia.

In any case, it’s a clear & constant signal that being queer is not something that’s acceptable for a Sylvester. And as much as Hunter fights his father, as much as I think he dreads being like him, he’s the only parent he has left at this point.

He still wants to be loved. He’s a kid. He needs a loving parent. Even if he, realistically, doesn’t really have one that’s worth appeasing.

Consciously, he’ll rebel. Subconsciously, he still looks up at his father and wants to be told he did well. He wants someone to be proud of him, he wants to be enough.

Call me a pessimist but I think at this point, even if Alan tried, the relationship is so laden with barbed wire that nothing is possibly getting through.

Anything would be too little & too fucking late.

Sorry that got a little fucking bleak...it's me, it's what happens lol Thank you for asking, Anon 🤘

[nonuggetshere]

Hey so remember that AU where PK couldn't go ahead with the sealing after he already put Radiance in Flower's (PV's name) head so he basically takes them away from Hallownest and cares for them as they're infected? That's a very simple breakdown and he basically did that because they broke from the chains he put them in and, while being controlled by The Radiance, lashed out at him trying to kill him so he figures he was wrong about how infection works and she could still control them + if they were able to break out from their chains he was afraid of just leaving them there incase she managed to escape, so he figures taking them away where they couldn't hurt anybody while he figures out what to do next would be the best option

Anyway, I wrote a little something for after he and WL figure out Flower is actually impure and that's why she's able to control their body,

Summary: Flower/PV struggles with the infection and finds comfort in their parents' arms. Hurt/comfort

TW: Brief mention of attempted self-harm, typical grossness that comes with writing about the infection

Flower laid there in the nest their father had made, painstakingly grabbing every pillow, blanket and soft material he could find, their mother's roots giving it shape and support - much more stable and comfortable than the cold, hard stone they relied on before she had found the two of them. They were lucid, the rare few moments where the Old Light retreated and let them take a hold of their body, both worn down and exhausted from the near constant battle for control that rendered this body practically useless the vast majority of the time, neither of them being able to claw their way to the front of their mind. This time, they were victorious, but the few moments of being fully present in their body were anything but rewarding and peaceful.

They gasped, wheezed and coughed, despite needing no air the sickly orange, burning cysts that formed in their chest and throat pressed painfully and uncomfortably against their void, they tried in vain to force them out, almost sending themself into a blind panic trying to get the release, some kind of relief from this pain and discomfort and burning hotness that would not come.

Their mother sat next to them, stroking their hair and horns and gently wiping the never ending orange pus coming out of every opening in their face, speaking to them comforting words in her soft voice, much like them trying in vain to bring them some sort of comfort and relief in this never ending pain. Her roots wrapped around their wrists, holding their hands back after they - almost instinctively - tried to scratch at their face and throat, desperately trying to dig the cysts out.

After a long while they had finally stopped struggling to try and cough them up, it was taking them nowhere but bringing further pain. Instead they just laid there, their gasps and groans gurgly, trying desperately to find some sort of position that'd be comfortable for them, each movement a painful struggle as their body was too weak and broken to allow them to move in the way that they had wanted. In their constant squirming their eyes eventually landed on their father, sitting back against the edge of the nest, looking at them with that same guilt riddled, pained expression he always did; but as their eyes met her quickly glanced away, being unable to look them in the face as they struggled.

They slowly propped themself up on their elbows and then hands, trying their best to crawl and pull themself closer to him.

"Child?"

His ears suddenly perked up and he looked back at them in surprise and confusion as they propped their head up against him, taking a short break before pulling themself in closer and slumping against his chest. They laid their head there, trying to focus on his breathing and the sound of his hearts beating over the burning pain and discomfort. It had always brought them comfort, back then when they were small enough that he was able to carry them or even let them rest in his lap against his chest on occasion, and even now as they've grown it was no different.

They closed their eyes, the rhythmic beating of his hearts and the slow rise and fall of his chest soothing them, their frantinc, panicked, gurgling gasps from before slowly fading into quiet, hitched breathing. And after a moment they felt his arms wrap around them, pulling them in closer and and holding them steady as he purred softly to them. They nuzzled in closer to the soft vibrations, melting into his embrace as their pained breathing finally stopped.

"My love," They felt the nest shift as their mother sat next to the two of them, though they could hear the concern in her hushed voice, "Are you sure this is a good idea? What if she-"

"Let them rest," Their father replied softly, running his hand through their hair and slowly rubbing circles into their back, "They deserve at least that. I'll be fine."

"...Alright. You're right, they've earned a break."

After a moment they felt her pull a blanket over them, keeping her arm there wrapped around the two of them, and they suppressed a purr as she kissed their head gently - they knew it'd only hurt if they tried.

For a while longer they laid there, listening to their parents hushed talking before the exhaustion finally overtook them. For once, or at least for now, drifting off to a dream that wasn't bathed in her sickly, burning hot light.

[dark-elf-writes]

Lark Hawke had always known that they were different.

For years all they didn’t know was why. Why they chafed when their mother lectured them about being the perfect Lady. Why they cringed away from flowing dresses just as much as they did the idea of robes. Why their father looked at them with such sad eyes when he soothed their mother’s irritation when they messed up their clothes again.

It wasn’t until a group of Dalish elves came through town to trade and Lark heard one of them be referred to as neither man nor woman that it all finally clicked.

They told their family that night. The twins were too young to care, only nodding and smiling at them. Their father had that same sad look in his eyes. And their mother… the less said about her reaction the better.

—

“At least keep your hair long,” Leandra had pressed for years, running the brush through Lark’s tangle of red curls. “It would be a shame to cut it.”

Lark knows their mother wants to keep it long so they can still be married off down the line, despite not being a woman. They decide to let it stay when their magic makes itself known, effectively killing any chance at marriage before it could take root.

They liked their hair. Liked the braids Bethany would put in it. They liked Carver tying it to the bed frame less but still.

—

Their father dies.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise. He had been unwell for so long. It still drives the breath from Lark’s lungs.

They take a dagger to their hair, leaving it jagged and uneven where it falls around their shoulders. Bethany helps them clean it up into something almost approaching presentable, but in the end it doesn’t matter.

Their cheek aches from their mother’s slap and their ears ring with the word “selfish” all the same.

—

Lark spends most of their time following after the twins. They always had.

With their father sick and their mother always busy, Lark had been the only one now fr to tend to them.

They teach the twins how to read. They continued to teach Bethany magic when their father no longer can. They watch every swordsman in town until they find the one with the most skill that is least likely to ask question or Maker forbid call the Templars and pays them what little they can afford to teach Carver how to fight.

Someone has to do it.

—

Their neighbor’s dog has puppies, and they allow them to take the runt of the litter for free when he bonds with Lark.

“Wouldn’t get much use out of him anyway,” He grumbles, frowning down at the tiny little thing shaking in Lark’s arms. “Maybe giving him a lass to protect will be what he needs to survive.”

Lark clenches their teeth so tightly they ache and forces themself to thank the man. They name the runt Cat because he is just as different as they are.

Later Cat stands guard while Lark sets a prank for the very same farmer. So much for useless.

—

Time passes and their hair grows again. Their mother can almost smile at them sometimes.

Then comes the blight.

—

“This is your fault!”

It rings in their ears in the bowls of the ship. Their mother won’t look at them. Carver watches out for the corner of his eye and pretends that he’s not. Aveline is as much of a stranger as everyone else in this damn ship.

Bethany is dead.

It was their fault.

Carver offers them a dagger when they realize their own had been lost sometime in the escape from Lothering.

He isn’t much help evening out their hair when they once again cut it short. Aveline isn’t either. In the end another refugee takes pity on them and helps clean it up as best they can in a swaying ship with too many bodies packed in close.

Their mother barely looks at them. They almost wish she would slap them again.

—

Athenril calls them Gamlen’s niece when they meet, and Lark wants to scream.

—

“Do you ever take anything seriously?” Carver spits at them one day when they are making their way back to Gamlen’s hovel. They’re both battered and bruised. Lark’s staff is cracked where they were forced to use it as a club when a bandit got too close.

“Depends,” Lark’s smile is not very kind, the exhaustion and pain sapping it away until there is only the shriveled thing at their core. “Are you going to say something worth taking seriously?”

They expect Carver to swing at them. What he does is far worse. “Mother was right. It was your fault.”

Lark tackles him to the dirt and they scuffle like children until they get the upper hand. Frost crawls up their arms and over the front of Carver’s shirt as they fist their hands in it.

“Don’t you dare,” They snarl. “Don’t you dare say that again. I fucking raised the two of you. You think I wouldn’t have di—”

The sound of armored footsteps makes them both freeze. Frost still covers Lark’s arms, ice spreading around them in an ever growing circle. Damning.

(They would be made Tranquil for this. They’re too well known in the underworld not to be. They will be shattered and twisted and their magic will be gone.)

Carver has them both up and tucked into one of the many twisting alleys before the Templars round the corner. They stay there as the Templars step over the new patch of mud without even noticing. Lark trembles pressed against Carver’s side long after the footsteps pass.

Neither of them ever mention it again.

—

A year passes and their hair has grown once again. Their mother still won’t look at them.

Without Athenril’s jobs money is tight, but neither Lark nor Carver will go back. Lark wasn’t never made to follow and Carver… they don’t know why he left when they did. They can’t find the words to ask.

Templars are getting closer and closer to Gamlen’s home every day. The money is running out. Lark slips their meager serving of food to Cat more often than not. One of them deserves to eat at least, and Lark can’t stomach much of anything with the sour taste of fear in the back of their throat.

“The Templars are offering a reward for mages,” Gamlen says one day apropos nothing. Lark wishes they were more surprised, but he had been eyeing them for days now. The Templars aren’t the only ones drawing closer.

Dispute everything they look to their mother. Surely she will say something. Surely she won’t let this happen.

She watches the fire as she always does. Something in Lark’s chest shatters.

Carver lunges across the too small hovel and pins Gamlen to the wall by his throat. For a moment the only sound in the house is the crackling of the fire and Cat’s growls as he picks up on the tension. Their little brother brings his head down — Maker when did he get so tall —until he is looking Gamlen in the eyes.

“If a Templar so much as looks a them, I’ll snap your fucking neck, and leave you out for the rats.”

That night Carver sets Cat to guard them while they sleep. They don’t talk about that either.

—

The next day Lark gets their pocket picked in Hightown and everything changes.

—

Anders is surprisingly good at cutting hair, they learn in the deep roads. He doesn’t ask why they sheared half of it off after handing Carved off to the wardens. He only takes a blade of his own and fixes it as best he can without a word.

His hands are steady. Gentle.

He and Varric are kid enough to pretend not to notice when they cry.

—

[superfluouskeys]

wip wednesday! (it is thursday)

Thank you so much @thevikingwoman for the tag!! As is becoming custom I am here to drop some nonsense from before school beat me with a stick. Idk how close ghost of you part 3 is to being done because I'm pretty sure it's gonna end up having a part 4 LOL, but here is the beginning!

I'm not gonna tag anyone rn bc I lack the brain capacity but pls feel free to share and pretend I tagged you! It's wip wednesday-thursday ♥

--

Moiraine always had a knack for compartmentalizing.  She never thought much about it, really, it was just the way her mind worked.  She was like her father, who could love his family one day and very nearly forget they existed the next, because he was so involved in his latest project that he had simply…tucked them safely away somewhere, to be loved properly at a more convenient time.

Anvaere’s mind does not work the same way, and nor did their mother’s.  For them, Father’s occasional abandonment seeped into everything around it, the proverbial fruit of the poisonous tree.  By their estimation, he did not get to love them one day and leave them the next, and in retrospect, Moiraine supposes she can understand that.

In practice it was rather miserable, though.  Anvaere moped, while their mother made a hobby of building resentment.

Moiraine considers in passing that she’s doing a rather magnificent job of encompassing both of her family’s tried and true traditions in her misery, hiding herself away most of the time, but still managing to make the whole place intolerable when she is present.

It would be much easier, she thinks, if Lan would just leave her alone.  Neither Verrin nor Adeleas has any desire for Moiraine’s company—and rightly so.  They are perfectly happy to aid their sister in her time of need without demanding the wretched details.  One doesn’t hear much about women being stilled, but then again, one doesn’t need to.  The mention alone is chilling.  They understand even without any comparable experience.

But Lan keeps on knocking at her door, keeps inviting her to meals, inviting her on walks, inviting her to do anything, anything at all, anything she wants, and she doesn’t know how to tell him that there is nothing she wants anymore, and there never can be.

She tells herself it is something of a relief to be free of the notion that she might set herself right again.  It would have been a colossal waste of time.  Better to be done with it now and move onto what is important.  After all, she herself hardly matters.  She let Rand go because she’d thought the matter was done with, but she realized quickly that it wasn’t, and now she needs to ascertain what will come next.

It’s something to occupy her mind, but there’s no joy in chasing down the mystery.  Her days are filled with dead ends and tiresome visitors who overplay their hands.  They misjudge Moiraine because the way to determine how much leverage one holds is to guess what the other person wants, what the other person cares for, and they do not understand that Moiraine wants nothing and cares for nothing.

In all their years traveling together, Lan has never once snapped at her like that.  There was a time when it would have brought her a sick sort of delight.  She used to try all the time to get a rise out of him, to make him lash out at her so she could feel justified cutting him off.  She’d never had someone so steady in her life, and it confused and frightened her.

His outburst reaches her, in a way.  She realizes she can’t go on like this hoping he’ll eventually stop trying.  She resolves to leave under cover of night, hoping at least that he is angry enough with her not to notice her missing right away.

She hadn’t counted on three Fades.  One, perhaps, if she were very unlucky.  But Moiraine herself is not particularly important, and certainly not at the moment.  She led the Dragon to the Eye of the World, yes, but it’s not as though the Dark didn’t get something out of that.  By all accounts she should be less than nothing now.  An Aes Sedai who cannot channel?  Who has no Warder, no family, no friends left to look out for her?

With a terrible lurching sensation, suddenly Moiraine is in two places at once.  She is here and not here, lying on the ground outside Verrin’s estate and back at the Eye of the World, and somehow, Lan has found her yet again.  He finds her without the bond, without magic, without anything to guide him.  Moiraine feels more than she’s felt in months.  She feels angry, and relieved, and devastated.  He can’t be here.  They cannot keep doing this.

If Moiraine is still a target, then she has to get Lan away from her.  She can’t keep him safe like this, and he’ll die trying to protect her because it’s what he’s sworn to do.  She doesn’t know what she’s been doing up until now, hoping he’d tire of her coldness and drift away on his own.  It was selfish of her.  She didn’t want to strike the killing blow, make him really hate her, make the split impossible to reconcile.

But what would be really, unforgivably selfish would be to keep him around when she knows it will get him killed.  It would be a senseless death, defending something that’s no longer worth the price.

Necessity doesn’t make the burden any easier to bear.

[theladyofbloodshed]

A Court of Tangled Flames - Chapter 33

(The penultimate chapter, all fluff. If you know me, that means hold on tight for the last chapter)

Away from the muted chatter and bright lights in the great hall, Nesta was able to finally let out a breath. Her guilt hadn’t clawed its way out of her chest and announced her as Beron’s murderer. Each gaze that landed on her seemed to penetrate her soul, probing how such a powerful male had died so suddenly.

Grateful that nobody else was permitted, she lined up alongside the other Vanserras to begin the procession to the crypts. Her mother-in-law had warned her that they were cold and miserable, but Nesta was so tired that the cold might be welcomed to keep her awake. The confrontation with Cassian had left her dizzy. Everything that Eris had said had rang true. Cassian should have realised that she was vulnerable and not in a place to embark on a relationship. Mother above, she’d been shut in that damn house for sleeping with males, but when the male had been selected by the inner circle, it was permitted? Despite the awfulness of the whole interaction, it had cemented one thing in Nesta’s mind: nobody had ever loved her like Eris did. Nobody was ever so quick, so ready to defend her. He was her sword and shield.  I would rather see my court fall to ruin and ash than ever see Nesta forced to be your mate. A tremendous declaration from a husband who meant it.

She spotted Orla amongst the crowd, a hand resting on Lucien’s shoulder while Niamh regaled them both with an animated tale. There was no sign of the Night Court now. Indeed, all the other courts had dispersed back to their homes which was a relief. Not only had the Night Court’s attention been insufferable, but even Helion had stared constantly, not solely to Nesta but Eliška too. The only stragglers still remaining were courtiers or friends who lived closest to the Forest House. Lucien peeled away from the sisters to join his family. That was a strange moment that Nesta never thought she’d see; neither did she expect to be part of that family. It couldn’t be easy for him to be there. Had the last time been when Jesminda’s life had ended?

The sons filtered either side of Beron’s body, lifting it with ease, under the sombre eyes of the court then they leading the way to the crypts.

Nesta sought out Eliška’s hand again, offering what little support she could. Her emotions had been like waves last night, undulating between despair, euphoria, relief, and emptiness. She’d wept for a husband who had tried to be kind at the beginning, but his own father’s cruelty had seeped in, changing him into the high lord that Prythian knew, so he hurt her, hurt their children because he didn't know how to be anything else. She had told Nesta stories that she doubted even Eris knew – ones she wouldn’t share with her husband – about Beron. About the volatile temper. The bullying. Trying to bond in her garden, but failing. The wars of their sons. She would heal. They would all heal.

The path to the crypts that existed deep beneath the Forest House was made of grey, twisting stone. Only family were permitted within for the procession; Beron’s tomb had already been prepared that morning by servants and priestesses. Nesta had to wonder if the whole court had been glad to be rid of him like a flea irritating the skin. A canal split the crypt down the middle. The faint trickle of water could be heard, flowing elsewhere. Sconces had been lit along the wall, casting flickering yellow light along their path.

‘Shall we just toss him in here? Nobody else would know.’

‘Eris,’ chided Eliška – though Xander and Lucien were fighting back grins.

Phelan let out a snort. ‘That’s not fair on the fish. You’ll poison them.’

There was no love for Beron. That became apparent very quickly. None of them held onto the male with much care, particularly when they bumped him against the worn stone wall.

Lucien asked, ‘How did happen?’

Everyone present said a different answer at the same time.

‘An enemy.’

‘Poison.’

‘His reflection.’

‘Fire.’

‘A witch.’

‘Bored him to death.’

Lucien raised his brows then said, ‘I see.’

And the matter was closed. Nesta did not know why the brothers were loyal to her and Eris. Eris had cut Phelan’s damn hand off. It was another item to quiz Eris about whenever she finally had her husband to herself.

The males positioned Beron over the mouth of the tomb, lowering him down. Uther knocked Beron’s head against the stone again, making Lucien snort, then Phelan dropped his legs unceremoniously with a shrug. Then, all four males, broke into nervous, uncertain laughter. The lady of the court touched a pale hand to her forehead, shaking her head slightly.

‘Thank the Mother that’s over with,’ said Eris brightly, rubbing his hands together. ‘Rest in peace Beron Vanserra, you vile piece of shit.’

He squeezed Nesta on the shoulder but put his arm around his mother, guiding her along the pathway towards the entrance, keen to remove her from the crypts. Nesta hung back a step to walk beside Lucien. He extended his arm for her to hold onto. She murmured, ‘Are you all right?’

Lucien gave a tight nod, so Nesta stroked against his hand with her free one. ‘I’m sorry, Lucien.’

Enjoying the role of high lord, Eris demanded a spread of food be brought to their rooms along with a spare bed for his mother to sleep in. It was only late afternoon, but all of them had been up throughout the previous night; Nesta and Eris had a lack of sleep the night before that too at Orla’s.

‘You don’t need to keep me in here, Eris,’ his mother said, after the servants had managed to wedge a bed into the lounge. ‘I’m quite well alone.’

‘Maybe I want my mother near me until I know exactly who to trust in this place. Maybe I need support in poaching my little brother back to our court – and who can do that better than mama.’

The other brothers had skulked away to their quarters with the exception of Lucien who squatted awkwardly in the corner, getting bothered by smokehounds. ‘You only call her that when you want something.’

‘I want my brother to move home,’ Eris replied simply. ‘You don’t suit black.’

Nesta held Cotton-tail aloft, out of the dogs’ jaws. He munched on a leaf of lettuce plucked from the spread of food, tucked into the crook of her elbow. The cake that she’d had her eye on in the hall had been delivered to their rooms. Without needing to ask, Eris had caught where her gaze landed then cut a massive slice for her.

‘I should probably have something savoury first.’

‘As your high lord, I command you to eat the cake.’

Oh, he was going to enjoy holding that over her head at every opportunity.

‘He’s going to be insufferable now,’ said Lucien.

‘He already was,’ she replied, making her mother-in-law laugh.

It was nice to eat together without the shadow of Beron looming over them. It had not yet been a day since the male had died but already the court felt lighter, like a great weight had been lifted from its chest. If Eris was burdened by his new title, he did not show it. The male lounged in a chair, feet reaching across the gap into Nesta’s lap, precariously close to Cotton-tail’s teeth. When the room was flooded with the golden evening light, Nesta left the family to enjoy each other’s company. There was so much that they needed to talk about, much they needed to catch up on. Something tentative and hesitant was blooming between the three so Nesta did not want to be a burden.

Eris caught her in the doorway, holding her wrist close to his chest. ‘You don’t have to go.’

‘You should speak altogether as a family.’

A smile had rarely left his lips since they had passed through the doors to their rooms. Nesta could not recall ever seeing Eris so light, so happy.

‘You are part of this family – I’m sorry to tell you that, if you didn’t already know. Don’t feel as if you need to leave.’

A family. The word choked her with joy. Nesta had killed his father last night. Hadn’t even stopped to think about what she was doing before her fire devoured Beron. But it had changed nothing. If anything, they seemed to love her more. A family was what she had wanted for so long. She tipped forwards towards her husband. His soft lips pressed to her temple, holding her to him for a while. 

‘I am only slightly jealous that you can sleep.’

Nesta held his drooping head up. ‘I’ll warm the bed for you.’

‘I knew I married you for a reason.’ He kissed her again. ‘See you soon, Queen of Queens.’

‘If Eris chokes on the food,’ she called over his shoulder, ‘let him suffer. Lucien, how would you like to be high lord?’

Their laughter rang out behind her as she entered the bedroom. Safera was not far behind her; the gentle hound waited for her outside of the bathroom then slunk up onto the bed in Eris’ spot.

It felt as if her head had only just grazed the pillow when Eris woke her with a heavy shuffle of footsteps across the carpet. She hadn’t bothered drawing the curtains closed so darkness still seeped through the window.

‘Sorry, my love,’ he whispered as she grumbled and turned over.

‘Did Lucien go?’

‘No. He’s on the couch. Still talking with my mother.’

With a bone-tiredness, Eris removed his clothing and let it drop into a heap on the floor rather than picking it up like he usually would.

‘I have been waiting for this moment all day.’

With no sophistication or grace whatsoever, Eris flopped face first onto the mattress. The springs groaned under his weight.

‘I am more tired than anybody in history has ever been before.’

‘That’s an exaggeration.’

A long groan rattled from his throat as he continued to lay across the mattress like a plank of wood. At first, Nesta tried to be tender as she attempted to pluck the blanket from beneath his body, but he was too damn heavy to manage it. She ended up grunting as she strained to free the quilt. ‘Mother, help me, how much cake did you eat this evening?’

‘I’m so tired.’ They were the only words he could manage.

By the time that Nesta had managed to pull the blanket from beneath Eris, he was already sleeping. He’d earned it, she supposed. In three days, he’d gone into the Prison, been wounded, saved her from her magic, been whipped, watched his father die, become high lord, and chuck his father’s body into the crypts. She now understood why people prayed for uninteresting lives.

***

The light breeching their sanctuary was an ill-omen. It meant they had to get out of bed and Eris was loathe to do it. At Nesta’s first movements where she tried to sling her legs onto the floor, he shot out his arms and hauled her back towards him. For a while, Nesta allowed it. Their legs and arms tangled around each other, eyes heavy in the hazy morning, then her bladder could take no more.

‘I’ll check on our guests,’ she said, kissing his forehead on her return to the bedroom.

Although his body might have been present, his mind was not. Eris could have slept for a week, maybe longer. The duty that he had waited his entire life for beckoned, but Eris wished it could be postponed for another day. He’d be high lord tomorrow. All he wanted today was to be Nesta’s husband and not get out of bed.

At one point, he had thought that Nesta had joined him in the bed again. Her weight could be felt on the mattress as she moved closer to him. Then a tongue swept up his neck and tried to lick his ear.

‘Safera! Off the bed.’

She leapt onto the floor with a thump.

‘You spoilt madam. Sharing a bed with a high lord.’

Begrudgingly, Eris dragged his carcass from the bed and into the next room, but only his wife remained there. He had no recollection of her dressing at all.

‘Good afternoon, high lord.’

‘It’s surely not.’

‘It is well past noon. Your first act as high lord has been to sleep the day away.’

Eris rubbed at his eyes. ‘Lucien?’

‘With mother having a ride through the forest. Yes, with guards. Yes, one of those is Ashur. She will be safe.’

He folded his arms across his bare chest. ‘Where was my invitation?’

‘One, surely a high lord has more important duties than playing with horses. Two, they waited for you to wake up to accompany them. I tried to wake you up. Even Lucien tried to wake you up. I was very close to summoning Orla because I thought you were in an enchanted sleep.’

Eris strode forwards. His hands slid around Nesta’s waist, drawing her to him. ‘In your stories a handsome prince has to kiss the princess to wake her up.’

She laughed openly in his face then, grey eyes shining. ‘Did you just refer to yourself as a princess? And me your handsome prince?’

He stepped away, massaging his temples. ‘I am so tired still.’

All of those years plotting and scheming had finally taken their toll on Eris, so now he was paying for the long nights loping through the woods where he traded places with Ashur. He’d been nearly untouchable then. He could function well enough on shards of sleep day after day.

It had not quite sunk in yet that he was the high lord of his court and that his father was dead. It was a conversation he needed to have with Nesta though not yet. All he wanted now was to cuddle beside his wife and sleep longer.

‘What now?’

Nesta’s words had been hesitant. She wrung her hands together. Her shoulders had curled inwards as if she was bracing herself to weather a storm.

He tilted his head slightly to examine his wife from her head to her toes. ‘What’s the matter, Nesta?’

‘I killed your father, Eris. Where is my punishment?’

The words burst out of her like the lightning of a sudden storm, unable to be stopped. She pressed her hand over her mouth, eyes wide with terror because she had said it aloud.

‘My father succumbed to a sudden illness. We all saw it.’

His hands settled on the tops of her arms, steadying her. Eris reassured her that she was safe and not in any sort of peril. Nobody would be sorry to see Beron gone. None of them.

‘But your brothers. They’ll use it against us.’

Eris shook his head then touched his forehead against hers. ‘They know I am now the most powerful male in this court – with the most powerful female at my side. Saving their own skins is their priority first and foremost. If they did not swear fealty, I’d have executed them. They’ve sworn a vow and cannot harm us.’

‘You chopped off Phelan’s hand,’ she whispered, eyes still alert with terror.

‘And he learnt a lesson never to touch what isn’t his, didn’t he? Nesta, I am the eldest. Believe it or not, my father favoured me. What he did to me was only a drop of what he has inflicted upon my brothers over the centuries.’ He kissed her gently. ‘You are safe. I will always keep you safe.’

Despite having no inclination whatsoever to engage with the masses, Eris knew he must. Nesta was already in pristine condition, so he dressed to match, immobilising his fatigue for a couple of hours.

‘How do you feel about riding through a few towns and waving?’

Nesta nodded. ‘I’m probably capable of that.’

‘More than capable.’

To make her smile, Eris demonstrated different waves, each one becoming more and more ludicrous. It worked. His lovely wife rolled her eyes and shoved him towards the door, but Eris had spied that smile trying to spread across her face no matter how much she tried to hide it.

It was tedious work to wade through the mewling servants and sentries who swarmed them on their exit. Worse were the confounded courtiers whom even Beron had loathed. He only kept them around to punish them when his mood was foul enough. They were sycophants with sugar-sweet compliments and sickly smiles, but Eris was just as bad as he slipped on his own mask of charming, cunning court-trained-bastard. Without prompting, Nesta followed suit. She moved elegantly, sweeping past the bows and curtseys with the ghost of a smirk on her regal face. Mother above, she was a natural. Perhaps it was a little cruel to command the servants to ready their horses then give them the time it took to cross the house to be ready, but, like the polished and proper servants they were, two geldings were waiting in the courtyard. Nesta brushed off assistance and mounted without support as Eris did the same in unison. They were twin flames that flowed together. No male was as lucky as he.

They rode out through the forests with guards following behind at a steady distance in case any of the general public became too close for comfort. What they didn’t know was that Eris had a wife who could strike anybody down dead so the need for sentries was inconsequential.

Their horses galloped through the towering, golden forests, ushered by the crisp wind that signalled change. They made appearances in towns and even some of the larger villages that surrounded the Forest House. Many folk came out to watch and wave. They bowed low to their high lord though some eyed him warily, trying to understand what sort of male he was. History was forgotten; Beron wasn’t even the worst Vanserra to hold the seat. His grandfather had spiked the head of every male in the family onto the gates outside of the forest house except for his own son in his paranoia. Distant cousins and children did not escape his tyranny; only one male did – Beron himself, his only child. Beron did kill his own father at twenty years old though, so Eris did think his grandfather had been unlucky in that regard that his son had turned out to be just as rotten as he was. Eris’ great-grandfather had also married five times and each wife had been killed if she produced a daughter rather than a son. Nesta had really come off quite lucky, all things considered.

Eris glanced across to her. Though she said she was fine, he noticed the slight wince on her features each time the horse sped up along the path. Her legs hung like dead weights either side of the beast’s flank.

He called to the closest sentry. ‘Find the nearest tavern with decent food and scout it.’

‘High lord, it is unsafe to dine in public. No testers have come.’

‘Then you can test the food for poison for daring to question an order from your high lord,’ replied Nesta. One stern look from her had the guard digging his heels into his mare to bring her to a canter.

‘Remind me never to get on your bad side.’

Nesta rolled her eyes once more. ‘It is so rare for you to be on my good side.’

A lonely tavern stood at a crossroads. It offered rooms for the night for wearied travellers as well as the promise of a warm meal and a hot bath. A thatched roof sagged over the cream walls and tired flowers hung in baskets beneath the many windows.

‘Is it safe?’

‘Yes, my lord. Your mother and brother are present.’

Sentries took their horses and Eris forbade them from entering. There, as the guard had said, sat Lucien with a full glass of beer in his hands. An arm was slung around his mother’s shoulders. The lady herself sipped at a glass of red wine with colour blossoming in the apples of her cheeks. They were not alone. A pair of sisters had joined them at the table; Niamh drank beer while Orla opted for tea. On Niamh’s other side sat a female with beautiful, leathery wings.

‘I cannot believe you would not invite your damn high lord. I’ll have you all executed for conspiring against me.’

Eris stood at the end of the table with his hands on his hips in mock outrage.

‘I thought you were comatose in bed still.’

He grunted. ‘Just about.’

Without waiting for an invitation to join them, Eris pulled up a chair and gestured for Nesta to sit then wedged himself impossibly close to Lucien on the bench, just to see how his brother might react. Lucien, of course, took it all his stride. He poured half of his drink into an empty glass on the table then pushed it towards Eris.

‘Good. You’re here. You can foot the bill,’ said Niamh, a bright smile lighting up her face.

At Nesta’s arrival, Emerie increased the space between her and the other female, a slight blush crawling across her cheeks. Eris wasn’t bothered at all by whatever it was that was unravelling between the pair; indeed Niamh had calmed down since she had been travelling to Windhaven.  

‘I didn’t expect to see you,’ said Nesta, a true smile on her face. ‘You’re safe?’

Niamh leaned over. ‘Don’t you dare doubt me. I could take on every Illyrian and Briallyn without breaking a sweat.’

‘I remember when you ripped up all of my freshly planted bulbs when you decided that you were a witch,’ scolded his mother. How beautiful it was to see a smile trying to break its way onto her lips too, after so long being subdued.

Niamh’s mouth dropped open in outrage. A slender finger was pointed squarely at Lucien’s chest. ‘It was him too. Lucien was the naughty one. I was the silly one who followed his schemes.’

‘You two used to cause such mischief. Your mother and I had to take it in turns to tell you off because it happened so frequently, rest her soul.’

If he could, Eris would have stopped time to make the night last forever. The evening was perfect. Their bellies were filled with good food and better ale. The merriment flowed with no signs of stopping. Eris was surrounded by the people he cared most about in a little tavern in the middle of nowhere. At one point, he dragged his poor wife onto his lap despite her nervous laughter because it had been too long since he’d had his arms around her. There were teasing words from Lucien, asking whether Nesta needed assistance with removing a pest which made all of the females in attendance laugh, even his own mother.

To speed up the return journey, they winnowed, leaving the sentries to return the horses to the Forest House. There were relentless jokes at Eris’ expense over his age and whether he desperately needed to get back to bed.

‘Mother is older than me,’ he replied to Lucien as he pressed clean clothing into his hands for the night.

She pressed a hand over her chest, ‘Only by twenty years.’

Twenty years was nothing. A wife too quickly, a mother too soon. Now, at least, she might find some happiness again. Indeed, the light was returning to her russet eyes. Eris did not know how much of it was due to her husband’s passing or how much was due to her beloved son returning to her.

‘Where is my wife? She might defend me.’

From the bedroom, Nesta called, ‘I won’t.’

What wicked creatures. All of them.

Lucien would stay another night at his mother’s behest – and at Eris’, she would stay in their rooms once more. Eris was glad to have both of them back, even if he wouldn’t admit it amidst the teasing. Lucien’s absence had made their mother wilt more. She had lived in a perpetual mourning ever since that day. Eris knew their bastard of a father held it over her head constantly, promising to let him come back if she did things for him, never fulfilling his end. Nesta had solved their issues with a short, sharp blast of her power, the wonderful thing she was.

The female in question was waiting for him in bed, sprawled out across the mattress. He crawled into the sheets, inhaling the jasmine scent of her hair as he settled beside her.

‘Without lying, how badly do your legs hurt from riding?’

‘Enough.’

‘They’ll be worse tomorrow.’ Eris rose onto his knees and began massaging her calf. She tried to pull her foot away, face growing red as she hissed something about his mother being in the next room, but Eris waved it away. ‘I’m not about to ravish you. Merely trying to save you a day of stiffness.’

His thumb dug into the flesh of her calf, hard enough for her to grit her teeth. It was needed to remove all of the knots and aches from the muscle. Her riding today had been impeccable. It was the most she had ever managed – not that she would have complained or asked to stop. She was the Autumn Court; beautiful but cutthroat, never bending, never breaking.

‘Thank you for yesterday with Cassian.’

A soft breath passed his lips. He raised her leg slightly higher to work on her thigh. Although it was an act to help his wife, running his hands along her legs also had the blood pumping quicker around his body.

‘You don’t need to thank me for defending you, my love. You are my wife. I’d stand in front of death itself and let it take me into its cold embrace rather than you.’

Nesta’s lips pressed together as she smiled. Through heavy lashes, she gazed up at him, almost bashfully. ‘You say such romantic things.’

He kissed the soft skin of her thigh.

In the fireplace of their bedroom, his magic twisted in ribbons of red and gold until Nesta flexed her hand and her own went to join it. Her grey eyes watched the flames as they turned together, becoming one. In each moment, the happiness slipped further from her expression. It warped her features until she bit down on her bottom lip to keep from crying.

‘Nesta, tell me what’s wrong.’

‘I don’t understand mating bonds. How can he be my mate? We have nothing in common. He treats me poorly. Why would the Cauldron put us together? I don’t understand it. The bond is always gnawing away at me and I can’t bear it anymore. I want rid of it.’

He pulled her onto his lap, holding her tightly to him.

‘Why aren’t we mates?’ She swallowed down her tears, gripping onto him fiercely. ‘We are a perfect match. It doesn’t make sense.’

‘Mating bonds don’t always lead to happiness. I have many theories and opinions on the Cauldron’s ability to select equals which I’d be glad to share with you one day.’

‘Of course, you would,’ she said, laughing slightly through her tears.

‘Books and books of notes of my observations,’ he murmured, kissing her softly. ‘A mating bond is no guarantee of love. There are countless examples where it is wrong. You are not wrong for having a mating bond that doesn’t bring you joy.’

‘But why aren’t we mates?’

Eris wondered if anybody had truly explained what a mate was to Nesta. If anybody had explained half of the things in her life that were new, or had they expected her to figure it all out alone.

‘Do not think that our love is less because we are not mated.’ He smoothed her hair down, the silken strands soft beneath his fingers. ‘There was no force pushing us together. Fate did not shackle us. We chose each other, Nesta. Do you not think that is special? More special than a bond you cannot run from? I’d choose you in every lifetime.’

A cool hand stroked along his cheek. ‘You say such beautiful things and I can never match your words.’

‘I’ve had centuries to prepare them.’

Nesta tilted her head up to meet his lips as he cradled her still on his lap. Their flames danced together, oblivious to the heartache occurring on the bed. One day, Eris would tell his wife that he detested the idea of a mating bond forcing two together. The very idea revulsed him. He had met people who had waited their whole life for a mate who never arrived. Others who loved the bond more than their partner. The evidence for bonds being tragically wrong were littered throughout history.

‘I waited five hundred years to meet you.’

Her nose wrinkled. ‘Mother above, you’re ancient.’

‘In five hundred years, you will still be absolutely devastating and I will be old and shrivelled and sagging – and you will have to kiss me.’

Her thumb traced the seam of his lips. ‘I can’t wait to grow old with you.’  

@owllover123 @rarephloxes @fanboy7794 @sugardoll22 @this-is-rochelle @kitkat-writes-stuff @sv0430 @embersofwildfire

[omi-papus]

Concept I pulled out of my ass while trying not to pass out in the micro:

A couple of fanon interpretations of the architects have the idea that they have genetic children, (whether by insemination, something about spores I think, and literally just raw DNA depends on the creator) but they don't give birth, and they don't have partnerships between the parents, they also don't care for their children themselves. That's left to specific qualified caretakers and essentially no member of the equation knows who it is they shared genes with, neither do they care

Now. Present day. No architects save for one are left. Robin and Al-An have been traversing the home world for years and have yet to find sight of any survivors. They find records of what was apparently an evacuation effort to get as many of the children out of the planet as possible, apparently not all were able to be boarded, and they learn that one child was intentionally left behind. The file is too corrupted to get the explanation as to why. They assume said child has already dead, and Al-An is too afraid of facing any more disappointment, but Robin pushes him along, encouraging him to try and find it.

And above all odds they do. Its consciousness is stored in a faulty terminal and it luckily they can get a body for it rather quickly, but due to time and resource availability. They are forced to give it a body that's much smaller. Smaller than even Robin. Al-An claims it to be a couple of decades old, around 98, and to Robin it appears to hold the mannerisms and behavior of a twelve-year-old. It's initially scared and untrusting, and it only begins to trust them somewhat when it seems that they made it a body and that it has nowhere else to go. It can't speak any human languages, being far less apt than Al-An, but it can speak some architect. Both Al-An and it can communicate, and he senses that there'is something it's not telling him. The network is gone, so these two cant read each other's thoughts, so they are stuck as they are. This is why the brooding doesn't actually recognize Al-An in any meaningful way. It can tell he's an older architect, but nothing more. Al-An recognizes this insecurity and, after a long period of trust building, mostly between him and it, Robin being a presence he feels uncomfortable with. Al-An decides to sit it down and explain to it who he really is. Why things are the way that they are, and why he is here now. 

The broodling remains frozen for a second and without warning emediatly attacks him. Al-An has no problem stopping him. And begs for its forgiveness and in the midst of it screaming and crying, falling over its own legs, repeating itself in its rage induced misery, tells him “It is your genes that made them choose to leave me here!” Before running off.

Al-An doesn't understand. He stands there still for way too long, and it's only when Robin shakes him to get out of his stupor, that he manages to whisper.

“That is my offspring…”

He can't face it. Al-An has never even thought about this being before, and cant believe the chances of ever meeting it like this. The guilt swallows him whole as he realizes that his failure was not only known throughout the network, but that they deemed his very being so repulsive that they left an innocent child to die only in the name of culling his bloodline. He does not expect it to forgive him, and he is terrified by the very notion of being a genuen father. He was never meant to be. He doesn't even know who the mother was. It was just something all architects where instructed to do at one point. He's scared and remorseful and yet, even now more than ever before, so desperate to hold it close, to keep it safe and tell it he loves it more than anything. But he can't bring himself to follow after.

And Robin does not plan to let that stand. She's going to get those two back together if it kills her. And she isn't going to tell either of them… but she doesn't want to think about Al-An having a family with somebody else. She deep down wants the kid to accept her too.

[struggling-author]

TW: mainly for mention of domestic abuse

also Spoiler warning for the newest MHA episode

I just love how complex the Todoroki family is. Enji stopped training Touya because he cared about him and didn’t want to see him hurt, but he completely failed to show him that he actually cared and instead just made him feel like a broken toy that’s been replaced. Touya specifically says Enji lit the fire under him to wanna become a hero, which he is now trying to stop, but at the same time he learns nothing from this and does the same with Shoto.

Touya seems to react especially harshly to women because he thinks they cannot relate to his feelings about wanting to be a hero. Indeed Rei and Fuyumi both don’t have such ambitions, but neither does Natsuo which suprises Touya but his reaction is more shock than anger. I wonder if this is just him projecting from seeing his parents, believing that men are ambitious and women are not, or if it is more of a cultural bias/sexism, though I am leaning towards the first because he doesn’t seem to socialize much with people outside his family.

It is also interesting how despite having similar upbringings, Shoto and Touya seem to develop in opposite directions. Touya is very angry towards his mother but does hold admiration for his dad and wants his approval, and wants to train to become a hero. He interacts with his siblings but doesn’t seem to care much for it. Shoto doesn’t show much interest in training amd would rather play with his siblings, develops a much more protective feeling about his mother (which continues even after she burns him) and wants to reject his dad entirely.

I would guess this comes from the way in which they were first trained. When Touya was born Enji was not that desperate yet and actually seemed to train him with praise and affection, showing him love to an extent, which lead to Touya associating very positive feelings with training and being a hero, only turning cruel once he feared that it would be taken away. With Shoto on the other hand Enji was getting desperate, he kept him separated from the others (partially to protect shoto, but I think here it was more to protect his perfect hero than out of actual care) and forced him to train. He was seemingly always angry and expectations were high so nothing Shoto did was ever good enough, leading him to associate very negative feelings with both training and his father. When he then saw his mother suffer under him too he felt the need to protect her.

I wanna write something about Rei too but I find it difficult to place her right now - the two strongest symbolisms for her in the episode are definitely the eyes and the flowers - the flowers could mean that at some point there was something like actual love between her and Enji, but tbh I find that unlikely from what we‘ve seen. I tink it‘s more that she tried to find it in herself to love their family and make it work (like she said try to keep smiling despite circumstances). also it seems the eyes she saw on shoto reminded her not just of endeavor but of touya too, so was she - in her delirious state when she burned him - somehow trying to stop shoto from turning out like touya too? in general how did her mental state develop? it’s my interpretation that when we saw Enji hit her in the episode it was the first time he got physically violent this way, and while I don’t think it happened very often, I also don’t think it was the last time - and I assume it was a breaking point for both of them (his “angry face“ or as Rei calls it “his eyes“ keep getting worse and worse as the episode goes along and I think in this scene it’s at its worst so it would make sense that we are seeing the first time this face ever appeared, the first time it has gotten this bad, so that’s why I think it’s the first physical abuse)

(also random side note but I found it weird how quirk marriages were presented as something very bad but arranged marriages were apparently fine, and I‘m very sure this is a cultural thing but still - the irony when it’s basically the same thing)

Fuyumi and Natsuo get the least attention in this episode so there is little to comment on them. I am curious how Natsuo turned to be so resentful of his father while Fuyumi didn’t. We both see them in roughly the same positions, watching as Touya attacks Shoto, hiding from Enji as he beats Rei, playing with Touya. The only difference is how Touya interacts with them individually but I doubt this will be the deciding factor in their personalities so I will leave this up to ”we‘ll hopefully find out later“. Perhaps it is due to Fuyumi being born earlier, so she still remembers a time when Enji was not so cruel to them and thinks they can go “back“ to being a happy family, while I think Natsuo said at some point that Enji was like a stranger to him so it makes sense he wouldn’t care to get something back that he never had.

As Rei calls out, Enji has a tendency to run from his parental duties. He says about raising Touya that he could only show him the world of a hero, so when he decides Touya cannot be one, he basically stops trying to raise him and pushes it onto Rei (The same may be true for his other children but it’s unclear). I would guess here that he has started to realize the impact he has had on Touya turning out the way he had so far, but he doesn’t trust himself to do better and basically feels unfit to be an actual parent, so he thinks the best way is to remove himself enitrely. He confirms this again in the hospital in the present, saying the reason he didn’t go to see Touya show him his new move is because he wouldn’t have known what to say, so he did nothing. This leads me to think, in a situation where Enji is truly challenged (or at least emotionally) his fear reaction is neither fight nor flight, it is actually freeze (ironic tbh). We see this trend continue in recent episodes, when Natsuo is in danger he freezes, when Dabi reveals himself he freezes, both times other people need to step in to do his job, and luckily they could. In the past when he expected Rei to step in and do his job, she couldn’t (and partially because Touya had already been molded to resent her). Enji felt trapped by his own feelings of inadequacy and Rei‘s powerlessness so he let his anger out on her.

Short version: In parenting, Enji knows how to light the fire of ambition under his children but he can’t put it out and expects Rei to step in and do it, but she can’t. Just wanted to point this out again to put it in relation to their quirks, because I fully think it was intended that the fire quirk person is the one who lights the fire and the ice quirk person is expected to put it out - and how this doesn’t work is also reflected in the name of the episode ”the wrong way to put out a fire“

Anyway this post was not meant to follow any real structure (and it didn’t) but now it developed to where I wanna put some sort of conclusion. Drawing again from the title of the episode, it is implied that there was a right way to put out the fire, but that the wrong one was chosen. The wrong way was Enji running from his mistakes and pushing them onto Rei when it was already out of her control, the right way would be him finally breaking out of his frozen fear state and accepting the responsibility of being an actual father. So as nice of a gesture it is that everyone gathered around his bed to tell him they‘ll help, ultimately the job has to be his. That being said I have no idea how this story will end. I‘m not one to call anybody irredeemable, but I do not see how Touya could have anything close to a realistic redemption arc with the state of mind he is in, however it doesn’t seem right to just kill or lock him up forever either. It’s in your hands Hori.

[svtellify]

narcissism (is not) at its finest: stina heks

we return! shoutout to finals for absolutely draining me, and this semester in general for being the worst on record. nevertheless, i’m back with more kotlc psychoanalysis.

stina is a character i’m basically neutral to, so it’ll be a lot easier to stay objective with this one than it was with the fitz analysis. 

with that, i present to you:

stina destry heks.

stina is a character we’re first introduced to in slurps and burps, and admittedly, she doesn’t make a great first impression. her explanation for why she hates sophie doesn’t entirely hold up either, but i’m willing to write that off as teenagers being teenagers bc, well, that’s what we do.

no, what stands out about stina is how her character is what biana could have been and a role fitz would be best suited to at the moment. she’s talented, but not as talented as the main cast. this is intentional, of course, to show the power of sophie and her friends in regards to a reference point, but stina doesn’t just take it at face value. 

she’s a respectable character for how willing she is to stand up for what she believes in, but she tends to miss the point just as often as she makes one. she’s a double edged sword, if the blades were pointing at each other. for the most part, her actions cancel out. 

the only real unforgivable facet to her personality is her attitude and sense of self superiority in regards to dex. for someone whose parents should have been labeled a bad match, she’s all too comfortable mocking him for it and making him uncomfortable with his parents match status. the obvious would be to say, ‘oh, well, she’s projecting her insecurities on dex. she doesn’t want her parents to be a bad match, and she’s running from the truth.’ in which case, as much as i’d want to agree with you, i think it takes a while for her to get to that stage. it’s only in stellarlune, when she’s faced with glimmer and the aria family history, that it starts to dawn on her, exactly what her privilege is.

with regard to the plot, stina’s existence is simple. she makes it personal. 

yeah, the people of the lost cities are apprehensive about the black swan and sophie, but that’s not personal. that’s an abstract notion, and one that we’re told. stina is shannon showing us that it’s not just these random elves that we’ve never met, it’s the people around sophie too. the fandom is quite comfortable in bashing on sophie as a character, but stina is the very manifestation of sophie’s old life⎯being made fun of for being herself. and sure, sophie’s incredibly powerful, but stina manages to get under her skin in a way that no one else can. stina keeps sophie in check in terms of society, not in the interspecies and political way the council and black swan do, nor the familial way grady, edaline, and even alden and elwin do, nor the way her friends do. stina is a reminder that sophie is an outsider and that her presence changes the careful balance the world maintained before it acknowledged her existence.

and in that sense? stina is brilliant. 

sophie plays right into the trap shannon sets with stina⎯she doesn’t understand stina’s family history, not more than she’s heard from rumors. likewise, stina doesn’t understand anything about sophie. and the thing is, neither of them want to. they might tolerate each other as a part of team valiant, but there is an understanding between them that they aren’t friends. this is a line neither of them will cross and it’s the strongest characterization between them.

stina’s skills come from her ability to manipulate a situation⎯which does not necessarily make her manipulative⎯but it’s easier for her (and keefe and oralie) because she’s an empath. 

how else do she and marella go from:

to this:

ignoring sophie’s inflated sense of self importance (that may or may not be correct) in that second moment, stina has this persuasion to her that’s hard to ignore. she’s really a perfect balance, with her father in the black swan, her mother breeding unicorns, and herself as a powerful empath in team valiant. she’s everything sophie could have been, don’t you see? 

what stina really is, and what i assume shannon has created, is sophie’s true foil.

stina heks.

the more you think about it, the more it makes sense, i promise. initially, it seems to just be an opposite situation, but looking at the two “sides”:

dex is the child of a bad match → stina’s parents evaded being a bad match marella used to be sophie’s friend → marella is quite close with stina linh used to be closer to sophie → stina calls linh her friend often in stellarlune grady and edaline rehabilitate animals → so do vika and timkin sophie led her friends into the black swan → timkin kept his family out of it sophie’s biological mom is an empath → so is vika

they’re set up not to complement each other, but to show readers what sophie could have been, had she not been different. 

the only thing that really bothers me is how quick linh is to side with her, after the compassion she shows towards sophie. i get that she’s protective of her twin, and this could very well be me projecting how much i wanted to like linh to how disappointed i was with her, but considering linh has been ostracized in society for her powerful ability and previous inability to control it, it seems weird that she’d be so quick to befriend stina, knowing that tam and linh called sophie different (in a positive light) in neverseen. 

i can’t say it’s some enemies to lovers type beat between the two of them, because it’s never insinuated between any of the characters barring the love square, but it is an anomaly that kind of just. shows up in stellarlune? 

anyway.

i think an analogy for stina and sophie is, a possibility. to borrow from everything everywhere all at once, it’s quite like stina is someone sophie could have been, if she fit into the society she was supposed to be a part of. and sophie could have been stina, if she’d let the power get to her head and the privilege shine through instead.

in other words, the black swan were very smart for giving her a human upbringing. we’re mean enough to humble each other, on occasion. 

overall, stina is a plot device, and she’s a character that the story could live without, especially considering the greater focus on her in more recent books leading to the plot being spread thin between so many characters. what she isn’t however, is something the story doesn’t benefit from. the story⎯and sophie⎯are grounded by sophie’s existence, and make things much more personal.