#and then the other son comes home and the father is immediately like slaughter the fatty calf we are going to have a party

[vampirepuppygirl]

You know, I grew up catholic and never experienced catholic guilt, and it still kind of confuses me

When I went to mass, the readings and the gospel were always just life lessons or stories to make you think, and what it wanted you to think about was usually humility and piety and loyalty and faith and stuff like that

Faith formation was mostly about learning the history of the church and important stories that you should remember, plus prayer memorization

I don't ever actually remember a time where they were specifically like "you must feel guilty about this" or "everyone by default deserves to go to hell and you must constantly prostrate before god to be deemed worthy"

It was "everyone sins and everyone drifts away from god and that's okay because he will never abandon you"

It was "Jesus died for your sins. To liberate you from them so you're no longer beholden to the old way, so you're no longer beholden to original sin, so you can have a clean slate without ceaseless penance"

The sin forgiveness cycle that Catholics kind of get pulled into was always described to me as a liberating cycle. It gives you the freedom to sin and the freedom to make mistakes as you bumble through the blind chaos of life without worrying about perfection or damnation

Even when I went to confession it wasn't just a blanket "don't do it again" it was "think about why that is a sin and let that experience teach you something."

If I know anything about catholics it's that they love rules and they love the pursuit of knowledge, I once had a very long conversation with a priest about why a certain rule was a rule and why a certain sin was a sin and it was a lot more complicated than just "god said so," even if I can't remember the specifics anymore

I don't know, maybe it was my specific diocese or I've just been around a lot of liberal priests or something, but I even had someone tell me basically word for word "As long as you follow the ten commandments and use the seven virtues as a framework to guide you, you're set. Use confession to scrub away the sins you can't avoid and that's it. Nobody is without sin so just do your best and that's all anyone can ask of you."

Primarily, what growing up catholic taught me was just the importance of love

Love your family, love your neighbor, love a stranger, love the Earth, love nature, and fundamentally love yourself. And forgive yourself. And be patient with yourself. Because I was taught that everyone sins and that's okay.

And that's okay.

I was taught that seeking absolution and forgiveness is meant to steer you in the right direction, yes for the ultimate goal of heaven, which was defined to me as Oneness with God. And hell was defined to me not as a multi-tiered demon filled demiplane of fire and brimstone and ice, but simply the state of separation from god.

But it wasn't just about salvation it was also about making the Earth we live in now a better place and they are rules specifically to facilitate good communication and good relationships with other people and yourself, and obviously God (but whatever.) It was always basically let God absolve you of your guilt but don't force yourself to feel guilty if you make a mistake.

I don't really consider myself catholic anymore, mostly because of other people, catholics and protestants who use their religion as a tool to spread hateful rhetoric and become their own personal left hand of God, instead of using their religion to spread love and patience and understanding and forgiveness and tolerance and all of the things that they actually fucking preach. Why y'all throwing stones huh? Y'all ain't without sin. Literally nobody is. That's the point.

But I like what I was taught. I use what I was taught a lot. Technically even if I don't consider myself catholic I still am. I have been confirmed, I could waltz right into a catholic church confess my sins and my doubts and have a long conversation with a priest and boom blank slate once more. There would be penance hoops I would have to jump through but that's literally what happens with every confession, so still

But that's always what confused me about Catholic guilt like

What were you taught?

[dreaming-of-the-reality]

“History does not remember blood. It remembers names…”

Continuation of my House of the Dragon season 1 rewatching experience. Where I pick apart small details and examine the events and characters from a different perspective.

This time, I wanna break down Corlys Velaryon’s character and his “loyalty” to Rhaenyra as well as Rhaenys and the part she plays. This one is more of me finally understanding where Corlys is coming from - something that I’m sure most people have already figured out by now, and I’m probably just slow to the party because I didn’t really pay attention to him the first time I watched the show.

———————

When I first watched the show, I was baffled at Corlys and his blindness towards Rhaenyra’s children. Like how can this man stand there, and think “yep, those are my grandsons alright!” and honestly support their claim to Driftmark over his granddaughters who we can clearly see are legitimate?

We know he would supposedly have no problems naming Baela or Rhaena heir to Driftmark as he himself disagreed with Viserys being named heir over Rhaenys. Claiming she should’ve been next in line and it shouldn’t have mattered if she were a woman.

Most people assume this is the reason Corlys is supporting and fighting for Rhaenyra. Not wanting the same thing that happened to his wife, happen to her.

But honestly? Corlys has never done nor supported anything that does not directly benefit himself and his house. Corlys ultimate approach to anything at all, is “does this benefit me or my house?”

I don’t think he will be as loyal to Rhaenyra as we think he will be…

——————

For some context:

The Step Stones

Straight from the get go in episode 1, Corlys was insistent that the crown should interfere with the war brewing in the step stones. He mentions how it’s his houses ships and men who were being attacked and slaughtered. This was a fair ask: who would want to sit there and watch as their assets are stolen or broken down? It brings down his house reputation and makes others question their strength, when a few rebels from the free cities can wage war and defeat the fleet of House Velaryon.

Potential Queen?

In episode 2, it’s Corlys who is insistent that Viserys should marry his daughter Laena and unite their two houses. He obviously just did this because he wanted to have his daughter be the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms - something every lord in Westeros would want as it seems to come with many perks and prestige.

Rebelling and disobeying his King

After having his offer declined, and Alicent announced as Viserys’ new bride, Corlys marches out of the small council, and runs straight to Daemon in exchange for support and aid in his battle at the step stones. Corlys does this without leave or permission from the king. He’s angry, has now been ignored twice by the king and crown, and also hasn’t managed to secure any kind of benefit for himself.

This shows that due to Viserys lazy attitude and approach to brewing war, something House Velaryon is suffering for, Corlys is ready to risk it all and disobey the crown to help his house.

When returning from the step stones, Corlys doesn’t even go back to Kingslanding. Instead he goes straight home to Driftmark, and when visited by Viserys in episode 5, he doesn’t even bother to greet the royals at the gates. This shows his ongoing lack of respect towards Viserys, Rhaenyra, and the crown itself.

New sighting of power and legacy

When Viserys offers a marriage proposal between Rhaenyra, the heir to the iron throne, and his only legitimate son Laenor… it gives Corlys a glimmer of hope, in restoring his house’s rank. Marrying into the royal family, and having his son as king consort is his shiny new opportunity that he missed out on with Laena.

However, instead of being joyful and immediately accepting the offer, Corlys’ first question is in regards to the name both Laenor and Rhaenyra’s children would take. By Westerosi tradition, they should take their fathers name, and therefore be Velaryon’s - something that greatly excites Corlys because it would mean his houses’ name would continue on to form a new dynasty of kings and queens.

Of course Viserys shuts this idea down, already knowing what Corlys is thinking, and instead claims that only the second born son would inherit Driftmark with the name Velaryon. The heir being reserved as Targaryen. Corlys thinks this over and accepts the offer.

History remembers names

Now, Corlys and Rhaenys, are not idiots. They can clearly see at Laena’s funeral that Rhaenyra’s children are bastards, and know they have no Velaryon blood in them whatsoever.

They have two granddaughters standing right there in front of them, who are CLEARLY Laena’s daughters, but instead, both choose to turn a blind eye to the legitimacy of Rhaenyra’s sons.

Why? Because as Corlys put it, “history doesn’t remember blood, it remembers names”

If Corlys had decided to care more about blood, he would’ve made Baela or Rhaena the next in line (after Laenor at this point) to inherit the driftwood throne. But because Corlys knows that history books do not care whose blood you have running through your veins, he continues to support Lucerys’ claim to Driftmark.

If he were to name either Baela or Rhaena lady of the tides, his ancestral home would pass to a Targaryen - something he would not let happen. Daemon Targaryen is their father, and therefore they have his name. Lucerys Velaryon however, may not have Corlys’ blood, but he has his name.

Corlys has proven time and time again, that he is only looking out for his house and his legacy. He will take whatever offer he can get, that allows him to climb the ranks.

Rhaenys

Rhaenys on the other hand does not care so much about names. She only cared about her children, and her grandchildren being Baela and Rhaena.

When comforting the children in the Driftmark episode, she runs straight to Baela and Rhaena, and doesn’t seem to think twice about Luke or Jace. She does not consider Luke her grandson, and therefore would most likely prefer Baela and Rhaena be named heir to Driftmark.

I think after the Driftmark episode, Rhaenys could care less about Daemon and Rhaenyra. This episode is very heavy on her - she is attending the funeral of her daughter, who she hadn’t seen in quite a long time thanks to Daemon who refused to leave Pentos to return. She then also loses her son in the very same episode, who was conveniently murdered right before Rhaenyra and Daemon got married. Not to forget how Daemon just stands there watching after his daughters were beaten up.

From here on out, her only priority is to defend and protect her granddaughters.

Lucerys’ claim and legitimacy

Rhaenyra visits Rhaenys in episode 8 in the gardens. As Lucerys’ claim is being questioned and reevaluated, Rhaenyra knows (as Corlys is injured) that Rhaenys is her best chance.

Unfortunately, Rhaenyra has a habit of living in her own happy bubble, thinking everything around her is going great. She expects that Rhaenys will support Luke immediately, using the logic “Luke is her grandson” but is a bit shocked when Rhaenys doesn’t seem to care.

Desperately, Rhaenyra makes her an offer - Baela would marry Jace and become Queen one day, and Rhaena would marry Luke, and become Lady of Driftmark.

This is ultimately the best decision if Rhaenys wanted to support her granddaughters and simultaneously respect her husbands desire to strengthen his house and legacy. So she takes it.

House Velaryon would live on through Lucerys and Rhaena Velaryon, whilst the Targaryen dynasty would live on through Jace and Baela Targaryen.

Rhaenys did not accept Rhaenyra’s offer out of love for her, or loyalty, or her claim. She accepted it as it was the best decision for her house and granddaughters. Corlys would’ve done the same, for the exact same reasons.

The death of Lucerys Velaryon

If my logic is correct thus far, then why didn’t Corlys or Rhaenys pull out of the war when Lucerys died? Rhaena would no longer become lady of Driftmark, Lucerys was dead. Both Corlys and Rhaenys’ children are dead.

We know Rhaenys didn’t even want to get into a war with the greens in the first place, hence not killing them at the crowning. They could’ve chosen to remain neutral and refused to take part.

Especially after (SPOILER) Jace comes back from Winterfell after having met Sara Snow…

Well it’s simply because Joffrey Velaryon is still alive and well. If Joffrey was not there, I truly believe Corlys would’ve been VERY hesitant to support Rhaenyra at all.

Loyalty to Rhaenyra (not)

I honestly DO NOT believe Corlys is being loyal to Rhaenyra out of the goodness of his heart, nor his sense of justice that his own wife was snuffed out of the position as Queen and therefore he must make it right this time around. Rhaenys couldn’t care less as she had already warned both Rhaenyra and Corlys that there were be a war, as the realm would not accept a Queen peacefully.

I think their alliance is only holding on by a thread that happens to have brown hair, brown eyes, whose name starts with a J and ends with a Y. Without Joffrey, supporting the blacks does nothing for Corlys or his house.

———————

This man is more complex than I originally thought him to be. Maybe I’m just slow and maybe everyone is already like “well yeah duh” but it’s an interesting take on him. That he’s not this loyal puppy dog who cares for Rhaenyra and her children, but instead is playing the long game.

I don’t think he’s going to stay loyal to her as I believe when a better offer comes his way, he will not hesitate to take it.

He can see how this ends. He just wants to make sure that when it does, he’s on the side that wins, and the side who will help strengthen his house and legacy…

[vyunok-obyknovenniy]

A little analysis of this part in the Odyssey:

Reading time: ~10 minutes

Book 23, The Great Rooted Bed, Fagles' tr-n There he sat, leaning against the great central column, eyes fixed on the ground, waiting, poised for whatever words his hardy wife might say when she caught sight of him. A long while she sat in silence … numbing wonder filled her heart as her eyes explored his face. One moment he seemed … Odysseus, to the life— the next, no, he was not the man she knew, a huddled mass of rags was all she saw.

“Oh mother,” Telemachus reproached her, “cruel mother, you with your hard heart! Why do you spurn my father so—why don’t you sit beside him, engage him, ask him questions? What other wife could have a spirit so unbending? Holding back from her husband, home at last for her after bearing twenty years of brutal struggle— your heart was always harder than a rock!” “My child,” Penelope, well-aware, explained, “I’m stunned with wonder, powerless. Cannot speak to him, ask him questions, look him in the eyes … But if he is truly Odysseus, home at last, make no mistake: we two will know each other, even better— we two have secret signs, known to us both but hidden from the world.”

Odysseus, long-enduring, broke into a smile and turned to his son with pointed, winging words: ��Leave your mother here in the hall to test me as she will. She soon will know me better. Now because I am filthy, wear such grimy rags, she spurns me—your mother still can’t bring herself to believe I am her husband.<...>

Telemachus is a precious baby, we've established that.

But he does act a bit like a brat with Penelope a couple times. Of course I don't think that any of that is malicious or that he doesn't love her, but he's still being a bit of a brat.

They both suffered, their pain was similar, but also very different, their experiences and the way they processed it were different as well.

Moreover, at this moment Telemachus has already spent some time with Odysseus. They already had their meeting/reunion and they already cried it out (to an extent. I'm sure there's more crying they'll do afterwards). They even had a father-son bonding activity (a.k.a. the slaughter of the suitors). Telemachus got to know his father at least a little bit over the past couple of days and at this point he processed and accepted the idea of Odysseus being back.

Penelope, on the other hand, was told about it just a moment ago. She can't immediately go "oh, you're saying Odysseus is back? Wonderful, let me greet him", no. Odysseus wasn't away on a short hunting trip or something, he was away for two whole decades, half of that time he was pretty much thought to be dead by most people (the first half wasn't that much better, as he could've still died any time during the war, but at least he wasn't lost, Penelope knew where he was).

Now she needs time to wrap her head around what is happening. We even see her thoughts as she goes to meet Odysseus:

Penelope started down from her lofty room, her heart in turmoil, torn … should she keep her distance, probe her husband? Or rush up to the man at once and kiss his head and cling to both his hands?

She wants to reunite with him, she wants this to be true, but she can't be sure of anything now. They have been apar for longer than they knew each other. Does he still love her like he used to? Is he the man she loved? Is it even the real Odysseus in the first place? She needs to process everything, as well as confirm all the information herself, and Telemachus, at least at this moment, doesn't comprehend that. He's acting quite immature, scolding his mother for not immediately believing and accepting that Odysseus is back.

This is a very interesting detail. First it once again shows us that Telemachus still lacks a lot of maturity, despite having been on his coming of age trip. He's still very young.

Yes, he definitely grew a lot in that short time, but it would've been impossible for him to learn everything at once, he still has a lot of that immaturity left in him, there's still a lot of room to grow and that's completely understandable. We, as people, grow for our whole lives and Tele is doing remarkably well, especially considering his circumstances.

Another interesting thing about this part is that it shows Telemachus', perhaps a bit childish, impatience. He is a kid, who finally met his dad (and his biggest hero), he knows that his mother was suffering and grieving for pretty much his whole life (with things getting a lot worse over the past decade). From Telemachus' perspective Odysseus' return is supposed to solve all their problems, especially since their biggest problem, a.k.a. the suitors, was just taken care of and it wouldn't have happened without Odysseus.

Telemachus just wants a happy family. His dad is back and seems to love him, the suitors are gone, now his parents should reunite, his mother will stop grieving and everything will be perfect. This is something he dreamt of his whole life and it's finally so close, but his mother doesn't immediately believe him. She doesn't immediately accept Odysseus and Telemachus doesn't understand why. He is too preoccupied with wanting things finally to be okay, that he doesn't take time to think about what Penelope must be feeling. It doesn't even occur to him. Perhaps it's also partially the need to be believed and listened to, which is also something he lacked growing up around suitors and being treated as a child, but I'm not diving into that right now.

Odysseus, on the other hand, understands what's going on. He assures his son, that everything will be okay. He pretty much does a more adult version of "mom and dad will take care of this, you go play for a bit". Odysseus understands Penelope's reaction and goes from there. Of course he wants to be in her embrace as soon as possible, but considering everything she has been through, he definitely can't just suddenly grab her and do what he wants. This is his dearly beloved wife and he wants her to take on that role voluntarily, like she did before, he wants her to accept him as her dear husband, like she did before, and for that he has to let her do it at her own pace. He tries to meet her where she's at, to do this reunion on her terms, to assure her, that he is, who he says he is and who others tell her he is.

This is just so amazing and I love their relationship so much (T▿T)♡

I also love Penelope's reaction to Telemachus' words. She doesn't react negatively, she is remarkably calm and part of it is probably the shock from what's happening, but still, she is "well-aware". I think that she knows Telemachus really well, because even though he has surprised her with how much he matured, he's still the same boy, he's still her kid. She most likely understands where Telemachus' outburst is coming from and doesn't get angry, doesn't scold him for his impatience, she reassures him. She lets him know, that he doesn't need to be scared of things falling apart and that she isn't looking to reject Odysseus. She's looking for Odysseus and she hopes she can find him in that familiar and strange man before her. She just needs time, but she will be taking the effort to search for what she's looking for, now that she has a way (she wouldn't have been able to go searching for Odysseus at sea, but now he's, supposedly, right here and she will handle it like the queen that she is).

[blam-marie]

Married to the Evil Wizard King - 01

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When Autumn was a little girl, she and her sisters used to climb into their mother’s bed at sunset and beg her for stories. The queen wasn’t a great storyteller, and she didn’t have the patience to learn many different tales. But there was one that she knew by heart, and it was the story of why their land was cursed.

Once upon a time, there was a great king who undertook a perilous journey across the mountains to find a new land for his people, who had been chased from their home by war. He discovered the vast prairies of Esternia, and split the land into four kingdoms, one for each of his sons. But his court wizard was an evil, twisted man, who also wanted a kingdom for his own.

There are many versions of this story, which ascribe many different sins, desires, or dark deeds to the wizard. But what they all agree on is that one night, in the height of summer, the Evil Wizard slit his king’s throat and used his blood in a dark ritual meant to bind the land of Esternia to his will.

The four sons brought their armies together to avenge their father, and managed to drive the wizard back to a dark forest at the foot of the mountains. There, it is said that he lured them into an ambush. The wizard killed each of the four sons, and their bones he ground into dust, and this dust he used to salt the limits of the forest. He claimed that long, dark stretch of land as his kingdom, and declared that no living being could cross into the woods without his curse befalling them.

Since that day, a thousand years ago, the Evil Wizard King has haunted the borders of Esternia, cutting their people off from the mountains and the lands beyond. For a thousand years, the four kingdoms have had to walk the tightrope between placating him and suffering his wrath. Sometimes, evil spirits pour out of his lands, slipping out from between the trees and slaughtering everything in their path. Other times, droughts befall the kingdoms for months — or even years. In his cruelty, the wizard banishes all clouds from the sky and holds back the rain, so that the sun burns their harvest down in the fields.

Every few decades, the monarchs of the four kingdoms decide to fight back; they raise their armies and march upon the forest, intent on ridding the land of the wizard king once and for all. They always fail. The knights and soldiers make their ways into the trees, and do not come back. The years immediately afterwards are always dark ones. The spirits come in greater numbers; the earth shakes under their feet.

Inevitably, this is then followed by another bout of placating. The remaining royal families bow and scrape; they send tribute to the forest in a bid for forgiveness. Vast riches in elaborately carved coffers, the finest fruits of their orchards, and richly embroidered textiles get piled up on chariots and brought to the very edge of the trees for a tense hand-off.

The king, himself, never appears. Twisted, dark creatures emerge from the forest in his stead. These strike fear in all who see them, for they seem to be neither men nor beasts, but something in between. They wear dark clay masks to cover their faces but their horns, claws and sometimes even hooves mark them for the unnatural things they are. No one knows how these servants of the king come to be, whether he creates them of whole cloth or grows them out of animals — or worse, whether they were once people and this is what his curse does to those who breach his forest. No one has ever dared ask. In any case, these servants seldom talk. They accept the tributes wordlessly then dissapear back into the woods, never to be seen again.

Eventually, the wrath of the king stops coming down on the prairies so heavily, and life goes on.

But there is one type of tributes that always get a reaction from the creatures, and seem to warrant the attention of the Dark King himself: brides.

Every few years, one of the kingdoms will try their hand at finding the Evil Wizard King a wife. They will put forward a princess — or a duchess, or any number of pretty well bred young maiden — and offer the Dark King some agreement regarding alliances or succession, in the vain hopes that he will act like a proper king, for once, and engage in a spot of diplomacy. The answer is always the same: the poor young thing is invited to his castle for ‘consideration’. If she is still — well, the word he uses is ‘eligible’, but everyone knows it means ‘alive’ — if she is still eligible in two months’ time, then the Wizard King will agree to a wedding.

No maiden has yet reached the two-month mark. None of these offers are ever sincere, in any case. The girls are merely another tribute to be given away as a necessary sacrifice to appease a capricious neighbour. The girls chosen are usually sick and already dying, or they volunteer for reasons no one dares to ask about. It has been a long time since a girl went unwilling to the forest, not that this makes the whole thing any less of a tragedy. Merely a more palatable one.

No one knows what, exactly, the Evil Wizard King does with the princesses and maidens and other assorted young girls that are sent up to his castle. Perhaps he does marry them. Or he uses them in dark magic rituals­. Or he eats them. But there is one thing that everyone knows for certain: things calm down when a wife is sent to him, so surely he must be doing something with them.

When Autumn was fifteen years old, her father went to war.

When she was twenty-five, her mother decided that she was pretty enough — and expendable enough — to be sent as an offering to the Dark King.

[malimangle]

Pilgrim Aiden + Sentient Volatile Crane

AKA: I have a VERY long and convoluted explanation for how Kyle Crane could be a father-figure to Aiden that I shared with my two buddies, and I am now deeply entrenched in + committed to the bit. So I made father-son content, naturally. It’s mostly senseless gjfkdg

For this story, imagine that we open with Crane’s backstory. His perspective—this whole deal traces his life from Harran and upwards, his various fights and how terribly lonely he is as he travels through the slowly deteriorating world, searching half-heartedly for some half-baked cure for what he’s been reduced to. Like every other man on earth, buddy.

All the while, yes, he’s a Volatile that goes into a fit of what can only be described as insistent monkey brain at nighttime, but he’s still a man, dammit. He craves human connection, and as he always has, he wants to protect + help people. Unfortunately, he can only achieve the latter half. It’s a half-rate substitute for the foremost desire, but that doesn’t change that it’s better than nothing. 

As we go over his backstory, we view as he tries―and fails― to save a settlement. They didn’t listen to his warning about approaching Volatiles, and as a consequence, they get slaughtered, with many dying entirely and a solid third becoming infected. The lot of the survivors become Virals. He sorta leaves them alone after that, counseling the Virals as they, over time, begin to lose their human minds to the virus (there’s some INTERESTING world building where human facilities don’t fully shut down til at least a couple weeks into the virus, and Crane gets to talk people through the transition and watch them OFFICIALLY die.) 

Well. Some days later a kid comes LITERALLY falling into the settlement, provoking all 21 Virals, and Crane has to put them all down prematurely as they wail at him to just kill them so they don’t hurt this kid.

Aiden initially tries to run from Crane and actually gives him a run for his money, but Jesus, this kid can’t be older than 14, so when Aiden finally thinks he’s lost this ‘weird infected motherfucker’, that’s when Crane springs at him, lifts him by the scruff of his shirt, and--immediately uses his weird telepathy to essentially strip Aiden the fuck down for being completely fucking unattended in the wastes at ‘his age’ and demand that he goes back to his Settlement IMMEDIATELY.

(” Listen, kid--stop screaming, dammit, I get it, I know--LISTEN. Jesus Christ. I know I’m some monster to you but the real problem is the reason why your sorry ass is out here ALONE! What the hell are you doing, kid!?”

“...What the fuck are you????”)

Just imagine Aiden hanging there, mid-air, goggling at this fucking Volatile-adjacent man who is standing in broad daylight and chastising him after chasing him several hundred meters.

“I don’t know what fucking girl you were sweet on here, but I guarantee she’s dead now, and I guarantee that going to have a fucking booty call with her in this day and age is NOT worth your goddamn death. Go HOME.”

Eventually Aiden scrambles together some brain cells thru the shock and he ends up squawking, the picture of baffled indignance, “What the hell are you--I don’t fucking BELONG ANYWHERE, let GO of me, asshole!”

Yeah. Crane initially finds that very hard to believe, but eventually as their conversation continues, he’s forced to accept that, no, Aiden’s fucking serious. He sorta…bluescreens over it. What the hell, he thinks. This 13 year old kid only comes up to my fucking elbow, and he’s out here alone??? Trying to ‘find his sister??’ You must be joking. No way in hell am I leaving this little guy to his own devices.

So, obviously, Crane wants to take Aiden to a settlement to settle in and not be in the wastes anymore, because he knows trying to find anyone in this day and age is a Fool’s Errand, especially someone you haven’t seen in a solid decade. 

He feels a bit bad about it, but mostly has zero qualms about telling Aiden so, to which Aiden is like “fuck you no” but either way, Crane eventually “succeeds” in cajoling Aiden into talking to a Settlement. Problem is--Crane didn’t actually succeed. Aiden KNOWS this Settlement is Hostile to Pilgrims. Crane didn’t accept Aiden’s claim that they’d be mean to him because he’s not REALLY a pilgrim (yes he is—Crane doesn’t believe it! The fucking nerve!) and like…”wHoS gOiNg To Be CrUeL tO a KiD, AiDeN??”

Yeah, I’m sure we can guess Aiden’s plan, here. Crane, however, is blissfully unaware of the can of bullshit Aiden’s about to open. This is not going to be softened at all by the fact that, during the travel to the settlement, Aiden and Crane kinda become grudging pals (grudging in that Aiden is softening to Crane over time and VERY angry about it, and Crane is endlessly exasperated by Aiden’s teenagism but also unwillingly(!!) amused by it.)

Soon enough, we’ve got our day of Reckoning. They reach the bigger Settlement. As we and Aiden both expect, they are immediately hostile to Aiden when he reveals he’s a pilgrim—and our poor, previously unaware Crane, in turn, immediately realizes Aiden wasn’t being dramatic, actually, and tries very hard to get Aiden to get the hell out of there and come back over to him without revealing himself to the settlers, because showing himself would cause a panic. Guess who isn’t aware of that because he’s a dumb thirteen year old and the novelty of Crane wore off, like, a week ago? Ding ding ding. It’s Aiden. 

Yeah, so, with rising hysteria Crane is trying to get Aiden to bail. Alas, the teenager in Aiden is coming out HARD and, wanting to REALLY prove his point to Crane, who has NOT been listening to his judgment at ALL, Aiden is very showy about calling out to the settlement guards and basically begs for a crossbow bolt between the eyes while Crane literally screams at him mentally. 

Right, so. Consequences, here we come. Aiden is so busy being a jerkoff thirteen year old that he’s completely blindsided when one of the Settlers does, indeed ACTUALLY shoot Aiden, right in the front of the shoulder.

A stunned silence. The Settlers look amongst each other, wide-eyed and quiet, but then--as one--almost immediately they decide to commit to the bit. Ohhhh FUCK.

Crane doesn’t even hesitate once that group-decision becomes clear— with some unholy shriek, he leaps into action, and not only swipes the guards off the wall, but flings himself off the wall and seizes Aiden by the middle, loping both of them off into the distance while Aiden screams and shouts for multiple reasons, kicking his dumb little feet. 

They have an argument as Crane runs from the Infected he’s accidentally sent into a frenzy between his sudden energy and the smell of Aiden’s blood, and Crane doubles down—he’s like, kid, some people are just assholes, not everyone is like that and no one’ll turn away a KID--especially not one who’s bleeding profusely from the shoulder, now, Jesus Christ, we got to sit down and take care of that soon--and Aiden tells him once more, this time with incredulous insistence, that no, he hadn’t been kidding before and wasn’t kidding now, EVERY fucking settlement this way is hostile as hell to Pilgrims, and after the scene HE made, they were probably going to be on the lookout!

Crane doesn’t want to believe it, but now that truth is starting to actually dawn on him, and he’s just not ready for it. Instead, they eventually lose the Chase and Crane props up Aiden on a car to help him clumsily patch up as best as he can with the materials he’s got on hand from previous finds in hospitals and clinics along the road.

Obviously, it’s a pretty hackneyed job―especially since Aiden botches the fuck out of pulling out the arrow and he can’t give himself stitches. Unnoticed, while Aiden thrashed in pain over the arrow removal, he scrapes the fuck out of his shoulders on the rusty ass car door and gets some minor abrasions—IMPORTANT LATER. 

Story marches on. Crane tries to prove Aiden wrong about people being jerks to teenage pilgrims, but it’s pretty obviously a doomed venture when they reach settlement after settlement, and one by one, all of them box Aiden out. Crane gets increasingly frustrated, which comes to a head when he comes raring out and YELLING at the guards who won’t take Aiden in despite his injuries after the twelfth turn-away, which results in a BIG conflict that ends with Crane breaking in, wrecking some shit, and carting Aiden away over his shoulder. 

Well, Crane’s meltdown is just the precursor to Aiden blowing up on him, because Crane has only JUST understood what Aiden’s been telling him the whole fucking time! Listen--Aiden’s not sure WHY Crane has been so obstinate about getting him into a settlement, but what he DOES know is that he’s in pain, he’s thirsty, his shoulder and head are killing him, he hasn’t eaten in days, and he’s VERY pissed at Crane. So. While Crane tries to find them a place to hole up for the night and check in on Aiden’s shoulder, they get INTO IT.

This is The Fight. Where Aiden hammers home his goals, and how Crane can’t change his mind. This is the broad strokes of how it goes—this is NOT the dialogue, but essentially what is said:

“It’s not my fault you think it’s stupid, and it’s not my fault you don’t have a Fucking goal.”

“You don't think I have a goal? What do you think I’ve been doing this whole time!? Fuck, kid—I’ve been traveling with you for over a month, you think I’ve just been doing that for the hell of it? I want you to be SAFE!” 

“and I’m TELLING you that I REFUSE to be safe until I see this through, and there’s JACK SHIT you can do about it! Either you’re with me, or against me, and there is zero fucking in between. So save yourself the trouble and just LEAVE already! I know you’ve been dying to get rid of me anyway! (stroke of abandonment issue—Crane trying to foist Aiden upon settlements has come across, to him, as an adult he grudgingly trusts trying to abandon him. He thinks Crane is eager to get rid of him)” 

“I’m not—what?! Aiden, I’m NOT fucking leaving you, you’re injured and I happen to give a shit about you! You think I want to up and fucking dump you somewhere, that I’d just leave you for dead like this?! Are you joking?! (Crane has misunderstood, a little, but he sounds so earnest here that it throws Aiden off)”

“Well—! If you really gave a shit the way I NEED you to, you’d know just how fucking important Mia is to me, and you wouldn’t tell me over and over again that my one goal in life, my one reason for LIVING, is STUPID. You’ve been nothing but an asshole about this the entire Fucking time and I’m sick of it!” 

“… (Crane, being the adult, realizes Aiden is right and accepts ownership of his relentless, though inadvertent assholery) …You’re right, kid. I HAVE been an asshole about this. But fuck, man, look around you. EVERYONE is dead. I have lost so many people, people that meant the world to me, and if that’s pain I can get you to avoid—especially when pursuing it might KILL YOU, I just…I wanted to try.” 

“And I want to know what happened.” 

“(Crane realizes getting Aiden to give up on this is going to take a lot more time than a single month, and uneasily settles into ‘agreeing’ to help him, because this is stupid but he cares enough about this punk ass kid to want to stick around.) Okay. Alright. Fine. Then I’ll help you find her. For real, this time.”

With that cleared, they finally chill the fuck out. Crane awkwardly leaves Aiden to mope it out while he goes and gets them dinner, because Aiden hasn’t eaten in awhile and he needs sustenance. He goes and manages to take down a couple rabbits, raids a nearby settlement for veggies bcus they pissed him off, and Crane goes back to Aiden to find the kid miserably dozing in the big master’s bed, smelling like he’s in pain. He clumsily makes a rabbit stew and brings it to Aiden, who says in a surly tone, “I’m not hungry.”

Initially Crane assumes Aiden’s doing that classic teenager thing and—since he’s still feeling like an asshole about earlier—he’s gentle with it. He’s like, “Aiden, listen, dude. I know you’re probably pissed off. I would be pissed, hell, I’d be fucking livid if I were you. But even if that’s true, in this day and age, it’s never a good idea to refuse hot food. You can glare daggers at me the whole time, but please just eat something.”

To which Aiden says, with appropriate shame and a much softer face, “Yeah, you got me, I’ve done that before, but I’m not being a hardass for funsies right now.” He sounds a little troubled as he admits, “I’m actually not hungry.”

“Aiden, you’ve barely eaten these last couple days. I want to believe you, kid, but you’re a teenager--there’s no way in hell you’re not hungry, unless somethings wrong.” The rising anxiousness in Crane’s tone prevents Aiden’s hackles from going up entirely, so he just snips, 

“Didn’t we just argue about you not fucking listening to me? I’m serious, I really don’t want to eat right now.” 

Crane’s heart hammers a bit, “…Do you think something might be wrong?”

“My head just hurts, and my stomach’s in knots, probably over the argument.” Crane feels a distinctly hard twinge of guilt. “I just don’t like fighting. This is  probably nothing special. I’m sure I’ll be fine in the morning.”

Crane eventually cajoles Aiden into eating—he pushes the stew around and manages to get down like half of it, which just worries Crane more. He puts it up in the miraculously still-working fridge and goes to settle for the night. Well. Some hours later—when it’s 2am and Crane’s still in stupid-mode (remember: that’s how he is as a Sentient Volatile—he doesn’t get bloodlust. Stupid Insistent Monkey Brain because I can’t handle violent Crane), he’s woken by the sound of his kid hurling over the side of the bed. 

He lopes into the room in a hurry like “!!! What ! The fuck ! hurt?!” and Aiden tries to wave him off like “I just don’t think the rabbit sat well with me.” But he’s trembling, sweating, listing a little bit, and pale as fuck. Crane immediately feels his face—he’s sodden with sweat, and boiling. Oh fuck, he’s feverish. He goes to manhandle Aiden out of the blankets and curls his hand carefully around Aiden’s injured shoulder, avoiding the front—but when he grabs the back of Aiden’s shoulder, the kid nearly Fucking convulses. 

Oh fuck.

Remember that scrape he got on his back from the rusty car door when he pulled the arrow out of the front of the shoulder? 

Yeah. Turns out one of the scrapes was a proper cut, and it got infected with bacteria. Aiden missed it because he doesn’t have eyes back there and, yknow, the front of his shoulder was in such overwhelming pain, and Crane missed it because he was so fixated on the front too. But now there’s visible pus in it and even though Crane is still in stupid-mode, he’s still got the faculties to think to himself a very emphatic, “Fuck.”

He’s like “we need! Pills! Medicine!” and Aiden’s like “so long as it’s not penicillin it’s fine” and Cranes like “?!?!? WHAT.” to which Aiden explains that, for some godforsaken reason, he’s allergic as hell to the one (1) antibiotic that is still around in abundance—penicillin. Cranes like “where! The fuck!! Am I gonna find an antibiotic that’s NOT ! Penicillin! Fuck!”

They start with the first Crane finds—Doxycycline hyclate. It was manufactured in 2022 — it’s 2032. Unfortunately, they don’t really do shit. They went over the expiry for them, and though SOME might still be effective, ultimately they just barely make a dent in the infection. Things are starting to look dire, and the area is starting to clog up with migrating infected and bandits, so they gotta move. 

Crane ends up rigging together, basically, a baby carrier for his back to keep Aiden hoisted securely on him using bungee cords and other materials he raids from a hiking store in a Volatile Hive mall. By this point, Aiden is so feverish he can barely speak, much less travel. So he gets Aiden secured, grabs their shit, and in a last ditch effort makes it to a Very large hospital-turned-hive, and basically sets Aiden up in a room, secures it, and fucking destroys all of the Infected in there while staying in tune with Aiden’s struggling heartbeats and deteriorating mind. 

Eventually the hospital is secure, Crane reboots the UV lights to keep the nasties out, and rifles through what remains. Blessedly, he finds not only proper I.V needles and fluid, but ALSO Ciprofloxacin, which can last 142 months after expiry before it really is dangerous. It was made in June 2024– it’s February 2032. Only 92 months, well within the limit. 

He sets Aiden up with the IV, and with the antibiotics―which he very carefully coaxes the boy into swallowing. By the time Aiden takes these, he’s dangerously close to death’s door, and not altogether there. So at some point he wakes in a hospital room, with shit shoved in his arm, very disoriented, woozy, and hot.

So. Very understandably he loses his absolute fucking shit. Which gives me the opportunity for some VERY heart-wrenching whumpy bullshit wherein Crane gets to cradle a very-nearly wailing Aiden and calm him down from, essentially, a post-traumatic meltdown. Just like I wish my parents woulda done with me, hahaha. 

Jesus Christ.

Well. Anyway. Between the IV keeping him hydrated, the antibiotics finally working to fight the infection and compounding on the mild effect the previous ones had, and the comfortable bed, Aiden’s condition does rapidly improve. By the time two days go by, the fever finally diminishes enough for Aiden to be fully coherent. He’s still absolutely miserable, but at least he’s back with it, right? Mmn. It would be nice if he didn’t have to contend with Crane’s deep and almost frantic doting concern, which was exponentially worsened by his flip-out over simply being in a hospital bed. 

Eventually: “So you, uh…I didn’t want to bring it up too fast, but I don’t know if you remember―you had a pretty strong reaction to being in a hospital bed, buddy. What uh. What’s going on there?”

Aiden puts down his comic book and squeezes his eyes shut. Fuuuck. 

So they’re having this conversation. Awesome. Well. Crane just saved his absolute dick and ass, and went above and beyond to care for him. And like…the guy’s alright. He’s clearly in this for the long haul, so Aiden guesses he sorta owes the dude the full explanation. So he gets into it. Talking about the experiments Waltz was running on the GRE’s dime for some fucking reason, and all the awful shit he was put through. 

Crane is.

AGHAST. 

 ...I’m not even going to comment on,, all of THAT, because there’s jack shit I can say to--well. Y’know. Just, holy fuck. Holy fuck. But uh. Make no mistake kid―not your fault, I don’t judge you for that―I mean, look at me, how am I gonna judge someone?--and--and those people fucking suck. I hope you know you’re getting babied forever now though. Fuck, dude.”

“...”

“ᴺᵃᶦˡᵉᵈ ᶦᵗ”

“Ur not my fucking dad, Crane.”

“Yeah, I’m glad! I got a bone to pick with that dude.”

“Jesus. Whatever, look―is babying me going to involve that weird baby carrier thing you were doing the other day?”

“...Holy shit, you remember that?”

It does, indeed, entail the baby carrier thing, though admittedly it’s more for the hell of it. They both come to realize that Crane can travel a helluva lot faster than Aiden can, and if they can trade off on who’s leading, they can travel way farther and waste less time. So they develop a routine―during the day, Crane helps Aiden scavenge―goes where Aiden cannot―while Aiden works on gathering info on his sister and Waltz, does errands, and basically does life maintenance. 

By the time sunset rolls around, Aiden and Crane pack up, strap Aiden to his back, pad him a lil bit, and essentially just let Stupid Brain Crane jettison through the night and get his zoomies out with Aiden secured to him. Aiden comes to sleep exceptionally well whilst having the Fuck shook out of him, and only really sleep good when Crane’s there. 

Aiden pretends to hate the baby carrier--he tries real hard. Crane figures out pretty quick that he's full of shit. He lets it alone tho lol

Wintering is kinda cute―they make, essentially, a gigantic soft nest to appeal to Crane, and they essentially hibernate together. Just like that, Crane acquires the human connection he craves and like, a weird quirked-up whiteboy of a son. And Aiden gets an adult who protects him and loves him like their own, giving him a parent. So cute. Wow. Love it. 

So obviously this gets a little fucked up once they get to Villedor almost nine years later. Aiden’s 21 now, going on 22. 

Crane has to make a very tough call―he’s not…going into the city with Aiden. At first, Aiden’s really betrayed―he came this far, just to leave him behind here? What the fuck? Crane quickly explains that he’d love to stay with Aiden, but this is a city full of people. There’s no way in hell Crane can fly under the radar here, and…Aiden has finally found where Mia is. But he won’t find her without acceptance from the locals. And the thought that Crane could fuck that up for him without even trying? Hell no. Crane couldn’t bear it.

And, well…Aiden can’t really argue with that. He wants to, desperately, because Crane’s been by his side for like, a third of his life! The thought of being apart from him after all this time feels weird, wrong, and anxiety-inducing. For BOTH of them. So Crane’s quick to assure― 

“Don’t worry, kid. I’m not going to up and lope off into the fucking sunset. You know this radio station we’re in, right now? I’ll just roost here. Make a nice nest and everything. And when you find her, and when you’re ready to either leave or stay, you can just come visit whenever. I’ll work on clearing the metro and putting in UV lights if you leave me any, just so your path out stays open, alright?”

“...And you’ll stay on the radio?” Aiden asks in this small voice. 

“Kid… you know I can’t actually talk, right? All I’ve got is this weird mind-link shit, and once you’re out of range, well…”

“But I can talk to YOU. And you―you can do clicks and stuff, yeah? I’ll just ask yes or no questions―two clicks for yes, one for no.”

And hey, that works. They get Crane set up, and while Aiden sets up the bed and gets ready to sleep for the night, Crane scopes out the metro at sunset and goes apeshit on the Volatiles in there. Sets up some UV lights and secures the area, if only so his boy doesn’t get his ass handed to him. Heads back. Now they usually share the bed―Crane’ll be a warm wall of flesh behind Aiden, cover his back and all. They usually reserve the Whole Ticket for winter when it's too damn cold.

For this last night, they indulge in the winter cuddle. Aiden curls up straight in Crane’s lap, head tucked into his neck, and basically sleeps sprawled across the guy’s chest.

As Aiden sleeps, Crane actually cries a little. Softly, with tear ducts that don’t work anyway. He’s really going to miss this kid, and the reality of not seeing him for awhile―possibly not ever again, if Aiden’s unlucky enough―is really starting to hit the dude. 

It’s hard to let him go the next day, but he knows this means the world to Aiden, so he doesn’t say a word to stop him. He watches Aiden head towards Villedor the next morning after one last hug. His slowly heaving heart fills with dread.

---

I'm not quite sure how I want to approach Villedor in this one: I DO want Aiden to go thru the story and all that, but I'm not sure how or when I want him to get Infected, nor how often I want Crane to come into play.

I DO want there to be a consistent subplot of Crane befriending a shitload of feral cats and becoming the ultimate catdad whilst he mopes about missing his kid. 

I do also really want Aiden to employ diplomacy and get the PK to retreat from Old Villedor without extensive bloodshed since being around Crane has given him the (in Dodger’s words, coconut-sized) balls to defy authority (especially because not being able to try diplomacy in the canon game makes me very sad--so many human lives wasted!)

And I DO want Crane to swoop in and save Aiden from Waltz at the electric car factory and basically scream something to the effect of, "GET THE FUCK OFF MY SON YOU FUCKING ANIMAL." @ Waltz before bailing and forcibly seizing Lawan in one arm, Aiden in the other, as Crane jettisons them to the Central Loop. 

(Lawan flips the fuck out over this random Infected, and it is utterly, comically side-burnered by Aiden reuniting with his 'dad', Crane, despite the objective insanity of the happenstance)

Aiden, sobbing: so much terrible shit has happened, a random man broke my heart, I fucking hate this city, I missed you so much, this sucks 

Crane, soothingly: If you want to bail for now, it's okay, you can come home with me and the cats for awhile and try again later. We have time. 

Aiden: Wait, cats? Cats, plural? 

Lawan:

Last but not least I ALSO know that I want Crane to eventually give up on totally behaving himself and instead venture into Villedor regularly--initially 'just to find cat food' but eventually just to sweep the Infected off the streets, throw useful shit into strongholds, and save as many people as possible. 

An urban legend starts to thrum thru all of the city--there is a talking Volatile man who eats other Infected, throws antibiotics at people, and gives absolutely fuckall 0 shits about UV light. Apparently he is usually toting around cat products--toys, litter, kibble, nip, etc--and is very friendly. People are terrified out of their wits at first, but the more he talks about his alleged four cats and doesn't rip people into ribbons, the more the fear fades. 

Aiden hears about this and, with a very amused nose-exhale, thinks to himself, 'oh man, wonder who that could be. what a mystery. so intriguing. Ah, good on you, old man.'

[wheneclipsefalls]

Hi hi, I'm the anon who wanna request for a Alpha!Neteyam x Beta!F!Reader with modern au (be it s series or one-shot is alright). You're not wrong that it has all technology btw, and here's the twist... arranged marriage plot with mafia background. Here's the things...:

Set in like a mafia background, each clan handle different matters, but all of them are united when it comes to fighting the war of sky people. The Omatikaya along with the Metkayina are like very top, for Lo'ak has mated with Tsireya, and Kiri is mated with Ao'nung. Spider chose to be with the scientists and has been Tsu'tey and Trudy's adopted son since. Max and Norm were all the Sully kids and Spider's godfathers.

Thanks to the technology invented along with the scientists, the Na'vi were able to fight against the RDA for a long time.

Given that the war is repeating, nonstop, someone has to gatekeeps their home. A family of each clan, was chosen to guard and restore the destroyed home, should Eywa guides them. At this point, the war stops long ago since years the Na'vi sign a peace alliance with Earth (the RDA has went into hiding...)

And here enters the plot.

Reader is the beta of a family gatekeeps the old town of the Omatikaya for years, and that their family are all betas and of very rare cases of Alpha and Omega.

Reader's mother is an domineering alpha and matriarch of their family while father the second-in-command beta, as well as a alpha brother and beta sister, all of the family stick togethet as gatekeepers, for so, even though no one seen the family except Mo'at, Jake, Neytiri, Tsu'tey along with a few clan members (to pay respect to the spirit and their loved ones who are died), the family are very well-respected, as they're the only family that never asks to be reunite with the clan once, and has been restoring the clan to its old beauty.

However, this all changes one day, when the scientists received alarm that there's a monster approaching the tower (where all the clan's leader and elders gathers to meet with uprising matters), Jake alarms Neteyam and the others to take things in hands and they all immediately dive into the forest.

While they're searching for the so-called monsters, Neteyam was alerted with the scent of a beta. It wasn't particularly that strong like omega, nonetheless, it hooks him on before he realised that it must be his mate.

And his heart ache immediately when he saw the monster that he's been fighting, crumbles to its pain and slowly shifted in its Na'vi form, and he immediately went rage on in his beast form when he spots the scars on her entirety and the clothes that inked with the logo he hates it most of all - RDA.

Neteyam literally has to forces himself to calm down before he carried his mate on his back, and called for the search teams to return to the tower with him. When he arrived in front of his family, Neytiri and Jake immediately recognizes reader and that when they touches reader connects with her memories, they're shocked as it shows them that reader's family were all slaughtered and that RDA keeps reader alive to do false experiments, she barely escapes with her beast supporting her...

Neteyam the learned from Mo'at reader has been his fiancee and the reason why they hadn't met each so far, it's because reader wants to break off their bond and keeps on gatekeeps with her family, just as her brother and sister who'd break off their bond with of their destined mate in the pasts. To say he's upset is definitely, but he in the end, respect it as there's no one who'd done it and it's admiring.

But now that reader's family are all gone, Neteyam is the only one reader has, that she knows she could trust without needs of proof. And so... this is about Neteyam who tries all his best to be with reader as he teaches her how to love again, and to believe someone...

(If possible, this could be fluff and angst with endearing smuts. It's about reader who shuts off her heart after the death of her family and that an alpha who teaches her all about trust, love and support. You no need to follow of all things I write above. Bye!)

(And sorry, if my English grammar is bad😓)

Hi Angel! First of all your English is great, I totally understood you so no need to worry about that.

I've read through this several times and I've been doing some thinking about it and I honestly think you should write this. That's probably not the response you are expecting and I'm sorry if that is disappointing but hear me out.

This is such a beautifully interesting and detailed outline for a story. There are so many layers and interesting character dynamics you have created and planned out. There is so much that could be packed in there that it would be an amazing series, one that I would happily read. I can tell that you have an amazing vision for this story so much so that I know anything I would create would be a mere rip off of the real deal. I know you said I don't have to follow all the details but honestly babe you deserve to see your beautiful and creative vision realized to its full potential. I think the only way that can happen is if you write it because I don't have access to that wonderful vision the way you do.

I don't know if you have written fiction much before but I'm telling you, I can already tell you have the makings of a great writer. If you can make up a story so intricate and wonderful like this with such fantastic detail then you have the imagination of a story writer. Grammar, vocabulary, rhythm, and all those other skills just come with time. Honestly, even writing in your native language would be worth it (I would seriously google translate your work just to read it). Writting, especially fanfiction, is all about having fun so if you want to see this amazing story come to life, you should be the one that makes that happen. Only you can do it justice and I would feel completely inadequate to execute such a wonderful story board like this.

When I first started writing Ma Neteyam is was in the middle of the night when I was frustrated because I couldn't find any stories specifically like it before. I had an idea in my head of a story I would love to read but I couldn't find anything similar so I finally just decided to write it myself. It was seriously just supposed to be a guilty pleasure thing for me to write and show no one else. Eventually, my boyfriend convinced me to post it. I thought no one would really like it but I gave it a shot anyway. Now, I've had the most amazing time sharing a story that I have been so passionate about.

My point is, when you have true vision of a story you are passionate about like this, you shouldn't be afraid to take it into your own hands.

Please understand I am of course always open for requests but I'm only suggesting you write it instead because I can tell that you are the true author of this story. If you do end up writing it I would love to read it. If you post it, please tag me! Even if you don't want to post it you can always feel free to just send it to me. And if you aren't comfortable with either of those options and would rather keep your story to yourself, that is completely accpetable too. Fanfiction is about having fun, after all!

I hope you understand where I am coming from and know that I have so much love and respect for you. Thank you for sharing your amazing idea with me!

I hope you have the most fantastic day or night wherever you are! <3

[rebelcourtesan]

My Adult Animation Recommendation List

Below is a list of adult animation I would recommend to anyone who wants to watch animation with deeper meaning than crude jokes and sexual humor.

Serving as a spinoff from Hazbin Hotel, Helluva Boss is about I.M.P, (Immediate Murder Professionals), who are a trio of imps who go to the Living World to assassinate humans for bitter Sinners in Hell. Rowdy Blitz leads the team of married couple Moxxie, a weapons expert and sharpshooter, and Millie, a rough and tumble imp with a penchant for slaughter. Sometimes they are assisted by Blitz's adopted daughter, Loona, a hellhound serving as a receptionist who is addicted to her phone and antisocial.

While there are sex jokes and crude human, there are hidden depths as the show is about relationships between family, co-workers, and both romantically and non-romance. It also carries themes of domestic abuse, classism, and trauma.

Currently the first season is complete and the second season is nearly half complete and available to watch for free on Youtube. It's an indie projected funded by Patreon, monetized videos, and fans buying merch and with each episode drawing in millions of views within the first hour of release, this is an instant hit.

The first of its kind, Spawn was released late night on the HBO channel. It featured anti-hero Al Simmons who makes a deal with a demon to return to Earth to see his beloved wife, Wanda once again. However, he is returned years later with a severely burned body and Wanda has since moved on, marrying his best friend Terry and has a daughter. Unable to cope with the loss, Spawn haunts the alleyways of New York, becoming an impromptu protector of the homeless, defending them from anyone who intrudes on their home, whether its mobsters, crooked cops, or other supernaturals.

Spawn is meant for mature audiences with depictions of sexual content, nudity, and severe violence. It's a plot that takes itself seriously and there are no gags or jokes. It ran the length of three seasons and can be watched on Max.

Based on the comic created by Robert Kirkman, creator of the Walking Dead comic, we meet Mark Grayson, the teenage son of Omniman, a Superman like hero with super strength and flight. When Mark comes of age, he finally comes into his powers and is ready to take on the moniker Invincible to follow in his father's foot steps. However, there is a conspiracy afoot in the superhero community which will end in conflict and heartbreak.

What starts off a typical animated superhero tv show, inverts itself by the end of the first episode. Be warned, there is plenty of blood and violence as this tv series doesn't pull any punches when it comes to realistic violence between super powered individuals.

The first season can be found on Amazon Prime with a second season coming out next year.

Brilliant series from Netflix. What's great about is that while it is based off a video game series, you don't have to be a player or familiar with the game at all. I have never played nor plan to play League of Legends, but that didn't stop me from being engrossed int his amazing series.

Two sisters, Vi and Powder are orphaned during a failed uprising of oppressed Zaun against the wealthy city of Piltover. Through a series of tragedies the girls find themselves as adults on opposite sides of the conflict as the war between Zaun and Piltover brews up again.

Beautiful animation, layered thoughtful story with wonderfully written characters which tackles themes of war, oppression, mental illness, technology, terminal illness, childhood trauma, fatherly love, and so much more.

First season can be found on Netflix with the second season hopefully coming next year.

Originally on TBS and created by Olan Rogers, Final Space was about Gary Goodspeed, a prisoner whose 5 year sentence is near an end. He's been living in isolation maintaining a satellite and about to lose his mind until a little green creature he names Mooncake arrives. The two become fast friends, but unfortunately, there is an all powerful warlord is after Mooncake because he's the key to opening a dimension into Final Space.

While it initially comes across as your run of the mill adult comedy, I honestly thought it was a rip off of Futurama before I watched it, it has way more depth. While Gary comes across as a talkative goof, he's passionate and loyal to his friends, deeply in love with his love interest, and is willing to put himself through pain and danger to protect them. It's a found family story with the characters going through epic lengths to save the universe.

There are emotional gut punches delivered by awesome voice acting and talented animators. But, I got sad news. It lasted for three seasons without a proper ending. Now some good news, Olan Rogers got permission to finally end Final Space in a graphic novel coming out hopefully next year.

Reimagined from the classic video game franchised, Dracula avenges the unjust death of his wife by declaring an unholy war on humanity and only three people can stand against him. Trevor Belmont, the last surviving member of a family of monster hunters, Sypha Belnades, a magi from a group of shunned nomadic scholars, and Alucard, the half-vampire son of Dracula himself.

The character development is well written over the course of four seasons. Handling tough topics such as grief, revenge, self-destruction, and corruption of the church while presenting intense fight scenes with some of the best animation I have ever seen.

All four seasons are on Netflix with a follow up series called Castlevania: Nocturne coming up soon.

[katerinaaqu]

Oh my gosh girl! Thank you so much! ✨️😭🙏 you are so kind as always!

Oh gosh for real! He was looking for a quick solution to get back home after a decade of war and harsh conditions and he found out that the price he would have to pay for it would just be astronomical. And yeah he miscalculated the true depth of the combined anger of all these people he fought with as they forgot in their anger even the laws of their society committing far worse atrocities than the one he originally expected like slaughter in the night.

Yeah I just thought that a young man who had to fill the shoes of Ahilles especially someone who does seem prone to violence according to the myths involving him, would indeed be the nemesis he never expected to have. Yeah he brought him from Skyros to fight in his father's place after the death of Achillesbahd now he realizes what that meant and the true depth of his potential mistake to bring him there. And yeah seeing a young man, practically a child not much older than what Telemachus would be at that time behaving like this and be drunk by the bloodbath definitely strikes a new level of deep... Gosh what a great description! Definitely like poison and knives! Yeah although there are other versions of Palamedes's death I thought I could use this one and give some benefit of doubt. Did he fall on his own? Did Odysseus push him? But for sure I wanted to show that Odysseus would have no intention of saving him. Which kinda makes it clear that he killed him. Potentially even holding him down...dunno everyone should leave their imagination fly. But for sure being brought before his sin would definitely hit him!

Yeah and funny how he partially believed what he said bevause strategically speaking as long as the royal family was there, Troy would potentially revive. But only now he realizes what that means. Obviously the Greeks wouldn't allow any male yo live and they would enslave every female and still indeed he might have hoped deep down some of them would be spared as captives if they surrendered but the events of the war just proved him wrong in the most terrifying way.

Yeah I should imagine poor Astyanax wouldn't be handled gently and only now Odysseus sees the TRUE depth of his words. That baby was literally the heir of Troy obviously he would die and now he struggles desperately to save SOME of their humanity but yeah Neoptolemus hears none of that! Yeah I thought Neoptolemus fitted more the part for the murder of Astyanax but I wanted also to add Odysseus to the equation hehehe no reason there I thought it fitted Odysseus biting more than what he could chew when he made the plan. Oh yeah somehow I imagined that Astyanax saw Odysseus and thought that is his papa who will save him and Odysseus simply crumbles here and there! And man when the poor little one falls! Yeah too young to understand anything...he didn't live his life...

Oh yeah everyone thinks is good but Odysseus realizes is technically his fault that all this happened and yes he is furious given that his name comes from the verb οδύσσομαι which means to be angry at or to hate according to some people. And the fact that people remind him cuts so deep indeed and yeah Neoptolemus won't let him rest...

Oh boy for real! The scene after a literal apocalypse like I cab fathom the looks of it...and yeah Odysseus is simply physically, mentally and psychologically exhausted at this and I wanted him to be on his feet all night as well not even washed from the blood. Yeah I imagined Andromache marching like Sarabi in Lion king, all dignified and steadfast that is until she sees him and then all her emotions burst out. Oh yeah Odysseus was stripped off his voice before her rage.

Man for real I couldn't help myself doing that because man I imagined as much as she would prepare herself actually seeing it would break her and yeah dunno why I immediately imagined that Penelope would react like that when her own son was in danger so Odysseus would make the connection.

Hahaha he damn should be! I mean he just put the freaking baby in danger! Much more the heir to the throne! And yeah Odysseus seems unbreakable in his acting but when his family is concerned he simply crumbles. He breaks down completely and reveals himself. Yeah for some reason I imagined that he would challenge him with it.

Man I couldn't resist the revelation of the ACTUAL crime like that and I couldn't spare any of the characters here... oh man yeah he wanted to spare her and himself but Andromache just HAD to see it. She had to see her son or what was left of him.. m

Yeah he wanted her to regain her dignity and strength but yeah she didn't want anything to do with the man she held responsible for all...and yes that burns him to the point ye has to harden his heart to remain strong and yes Andromache just regains composure because she has to. Somehow both have to hide their feelings both for different reasons

Gosh girl you are so sweet! Thank you so much!and it is a pleasure to write because as you said it is a great inspiration for other projects as well!

✨️🫂🫶💋🤗

Continuing from Part 1;

Guilt (P2)

"And no, that was what you feared...not what you knew. There was no way you would know the magnitude of it...you gave them the city just like you promised. What theh did with it was their responsibility"

If only it were that simple, Odysseus thought

Odysseus could feel his head buzzing all the time. He was feeling tired of killing that night. As he had promised they had plundered Troy in just one fateful night. Odysseus had lost counting at how many lives had fallen under his sword. The palace of Troy had fallen. Troy was burning. As he cut his way through with with sword he remembered bodies falling down; armed or not; soldiers who barely had time to rouse themselves from sleep to come to save their city and yet they rushed at him bravely. Odysseus couldn't decide if he admired them or felt sorry for them.

"Odysseus!" The voice of a soldier brought him back to the present

"What is it?"

"Priam is dead!"

"Dead?!"

That piece of information he feared but he hoped he could prevent.

"Where?"

The man bringing the news was way too nervous for comfort.

"Where!" Odysseus demanded again

"T-To the altar of Zeus...he was slain upon the altar!"

Odysseus nearly dropped his sword! Had they stooped so low, then, in anger and hate?

"Who!" Odysseus demanded, "who did such a blasphemous act?!"

"N-Neoptolemous..."

Odysseus could hardly remember rushing to the scene. Perhaps he remembered the hall drenched in blood and there he saw the dead body of the king; neck gushed open and blood all over the floor. The haunting image of the expression of horror to the old man's face as well as the stain of blood upon the altar were a blurry mess in his brain. All he knew was that he saw that child he had brought to this war, with his face smeared with blood, having a self-complacent smirk on his face. He almost seemed possessed. That damn armor seemed to be one with his skin.

"HAVE YOU LOST YOUR GODDAMN MIND?!" Odysseus bellowed, "How could you do that?! Have you so little respect for the laws of humans that you've stooped to the level of beasts?!"

The way that Neoptolemus looked at him was pure mockery and arrogance gained from victory.

"Now come on, Sacker of Cities...don't pretend that you would have left that man live! He was the king of Troy...just his existence would be a threat. You would have him executed anyways".

Odysseus couldn't remember grabbing the boy by the throat but he was beyond himself. His eyes were two bottomless pools of blackness.

"Do you want to end up like Thersites?!" He threatened in a dangerous whisper, "Do not challenge me, boy!"

"Or what?" Neoptolemus challenged back, "Will you do to me what you did to Palamedes?"

Odysseus was so shocked he could hardly speak. He felt like he had been punched in the stomach. The shock was enough to make him release the threat of the youth and take a few steps back.

"I have no idea what you're talking about" he said

Neoptolemus laughed.

"You are a liar, Odysseus! But then again you always were, weren't you?"

"Palamedes drowned in the sea! It was an accident!"

For a moment the image of ruffling waters had passed through his mind. Palamedes struggling under the surface... Odysseus remembered being frozen. He never tried to jump after him even jf he were an excellent swimmer. He was cold and motionless like a statue. The voice of the arrogant son of Achilles brought him back to reality.

"Yeah, how convenient indeed that he had that small... 'accident' when you and Diomedes were at the same boat with him during that fishing expedition! How convenient indeed!"

"This isn't about me!" Odysseus snapped at him, "This has to do with the hubris you performed here! We do NOT kill those who seek the sanctuary of the gods!"

"Times have changed, old man! You said so yourself! Besides wasn't you the one who implied that the line of the royal family of Troy should be cut? Priam shouldn't live anyways!"

Yes, Odysseus thought,he had said that and by that time he believed jt, however the old man had sought sanctuary. If they waited for him to get exhausted maybe... He could have surrendered. Murder upon sacred place was definitely NOT the way to do it. They could have offered him a nobler death than that! Odysseus didn't have time to reply. He heard a baby cry. He turned around to see in horror a man bringing baby Astyanax and handing him to Neoptolemus. The infant, barely one year of age, was crying woefully as he was handled not at all gently by Neoptolemus, who seemed untouched by the cries. Id anything he seemed to enjoy it

"What about the heir of Troy, Odysseus? What shall happen to him?"

"You can't be serious! It's just a baby!"

"A baby that is almost at the age of walking! Soon at the age of fighting. Will you let him live, Odysseus? You were the one who convinced the council, remember? You said we should all uproot the family of Priam from this earth!".

Yes, once again Odysseus had said that,however he had absolutely forgotten in the heat od the moment how old the heir actually was. The child was barely one. He could hardly speak yet alone walknand fight. Only now had he realized in horror what that promise he partially made would mean. He didn't expect to be brought before the consequences so fast!

"Weren't you the one who persuaded all the Greeks to uproot Priam's long family out of Troy?"

"Yes, but-..."

"So you take your word back? Decide!"

"Decide what?!"

"How he shall die, of course! You can't expect us to raise the son of king Hector, do you? Which will be? Sword or fall?"

The baby...the infant; no older than 1 year of age, was not much older than Telemachus... it was an innocent creature! He watched in terror as Neoptolemus held the baby to the edge of the wall.

"Choose, Odysseus!" Neoptolemus challenged, " or are you taking your words back?"

"This is madness!"

"You said to the council the other night that you would throw all of Priam's line outside these walls!" Neoptolemus insisted, "I believe the phrase you strategically used was 'we can throw them all out of the city of Troy!" I believe everyone agreed with such a sensible idea"

"Odysseus?"

It was the voice of Talthybius. Of course it would be that sleek worm! Odysseus cursed under his teeth. He was supposed to be their messenger and yet he found hik way too compassionate on the Trojan matter. Perhaps he should have gotten rid of him off his position a long time ago!

"Did you really tell the kings to kill this infant? Drag him out of his mother's bosom when she sought sanctuary in her husband's tomb and kill him in such a manner?"

Odysseus pointed his blood-stained sword at the scared messenger.

"Shut your mouth or I'll shut it for you!" He threatened, eyes set aflame

He didn't need any more of those throwing accusations at him and he had enough of this for one night! One madman before him was enough; he didn't need a Troy-friendly coward as wellm

"Stay back! This is none of your concern!"

As Talthybius took some steps back, alarmed at this sudden attack from the furious king of Ithaca, Neoptolemus seemed to enjoy this scene more than the idea of throwing the baby off the walls or stabbing him to death.

"Decide, old man!" He urged again, "Do you take your word back? Every person in that hall heard you and agreed with you! Shown in this pilgrim of the night that you have SOME sense of honor!"

Odysseus was frozen in place. His own words that he didn't mean that way were now twisted in such a horrendous manner before him and bound him like chains. He could not take that word back. His brain was also stuck and his usual eloquent tongue could not find an excuse not to do it now...

"So be it..." he said defeated, "But let us choose a more humane method! Not this, Neoptolemus! Not this!"

He needed to buy himself some time. He needed to think of any reason, ANY excuse to keep this baby alive. Neoptolemus, though, being a true son of his father's, wouldn't let him do that either.

"Not on your life, son of Laërtes! This is the child of the man who thought he could kill my father! His bloody uncle actually succeeded! His filthy kin DARED to harm a man whose mother was a goddess! He needs to die and he shall now!"

At that moment he dragged the toddler almost effortlessly with one hand; strength given only by wrath and hatred, he let him hanging on the wall. The child was crying woefully and then Odysseus thought he heard him speak;

"PAPA!"

He froze. In some terrible realization he figured the horrendous truth. Neoptolemousbhad inherited the golden locks of his father's and his light yes that included the sea and sky. He, Odysseus, was dark of hair, black of eyes, lightly olive tanned white skin...he was similar to HIM...to Hector of Troy. The infant was calling HIM to save him! Panic took over him and he forgot all logic, all his attempts to find excuses. Now the child...the baby...someone's SON (Telemachus!)needed HIS assistance.

"Neoptolemus no! It's just a baby! Let the poor creature go!"

"Very poor choice of words, Odysseus!"

And Neoptolemus did exactly what he was told...he let go! The baby fell out of the palace walls, leaving gravity take the body rapidly down.

"NOOOOOOO!" Odysseus yelled helplessly but that's all he could do.

He ran at the edge only to see a tiny bloody dot at the bass kd the wall. The haunting cries had stopped...forever.

"NEOPTOLEMUS!" Odysseus bellowed furiously, "you killed him! You killed an infant!"

"No, Odysseus!" Neoptolemus replied, "You did. Your plan, your advise, your sin."

Odysseus felt dizzy...his stomach twisted dangerously but he did herculean effort to hold himself back. There was so much he wanted to say...so much he wanted to scream but he found it impossible to utter a single sound.

"TROY HAS FALLEN!" the happy cry from the inside of the castle drew them out of this, "WAR IS OVER! HOORAY! HOORAY FOR THE SACKER OF CITIES!"

Odysseus felt like losing strength off his legs. He didn't even know how to feel. However he knew one thing. He was feeling ENRAGED. It was as if the name that was given to him by his grandfather now suddenly made sense! He glared daggers yo Neoptolemus but the arrogant boy only smiled self-complacently...

"Looks like you were right, old man... You DID take the city in one night..."

Odysseus looked beyond the walls. If was true. The sun was rising...although his light was now duller in his eyes; the fires were stronger...

*

The walls of Troy had fallen and the real damage was apparent the next morning following the massacre. The houses had burnt almost to the ground and only the strongest walls were still standing upright; sad reminder of their previous glory. Odysseus was standing there with some of his men, watching the march of wounded or future slaves coming out of the city in chains or ropes. The ways were known. They would be distributed to some of the kings among them and the rest would be given by luck to the rest of the people. After that thy should gather and burn the dead before they would be good to go... Odysseus looked aged almost ten years more. He had dark circles under his eyes and he still didn't have time to wash himself from the blood. The thick liquid had formed a crust upon him by that moment. Helen was secured and brought out of the city to safety by Menelaus. So everything seemed to be in place. Then, why would he feel as if he had to use all his will to endure it and keep a stone calm face? His attention was drawn to the part of the procession. It was Andromache, the queen and widow of Hector. Odysseus grimaced. He had hoped he wouldn't face that woman. She was walking upright with the dignity even the greatest of Queens would be jealous of, as if she were the mighty Hera. Even if she was in chains she was still holding her head high. Odysseus learnt that she was to be given to Neoptolemous. He watched the queen marching to be given to the man that murdered her son... The man they now called Sacker of Cities didn't know which was sadder for her. He had tried to persuade Neoptolemous to take another but all his pleas or even manipulation fell on deaf ears. In the end he wondered if it mattered... At that moment his onyx eyes locked with the eyes of the queen. And then he saw her face transform from purr dignity to pure hatred in a matter of seconds!

"ODYSSEUS!" she yelled at him, pulling the chains with all her strength, "YOU SPAWN OF THIEVES AND RAGGED SCHEMER! THIS IS ALL YOUR DOING! GODS SHALL THROW THEIR RAGE UPON YOU!"

Odysseus didn't have time to defend himself.

"It was all your idea! Your plan! You scheming bastard could not fight with honor! But how could you! HOW COULD YOU!"

Her rage gave her strength anew as she managed to crawl closer. Even Odysseus took half a step back.

"HE WAS JUST ONE YEAR OLD ODYSSEUS!DO YOU HAVE NO HEART?!"

The king of Ithaca froze. He had no idea how she had found out about it but then it hit him. Talthybius! Of course! He must have talked to her.

"HE WAS JUST A BABY! HOW COULD YOU!"

"I didn't..." he whispered more to himself than anything else

"CURSE UPON YOU!" she drew her chains again and even the soldier needed to pull back, "I knew they wouldn't let him live! But this?! THIS?! HE WAS JUST ONE YEAR OLD ODYSSEUS! Just one year-..."

And then there was a heart-wrenching cry. Suddenly her anger turned into outpost pain. Odysseus turned his head and realized the reason. The small wrapped up ball could be nothing else but the remains of her son. One of the Greeks was transferring them to the pyre for the funeral. Odysseus cursed everything he believed in. He had hoped they would be spared at least of that! Both her and him. Andromache fell on her knees trying to release herself and get closer to the wrapped up package.

"MY BOY!" she cried, "AH! MY BOY!"

The soldier was ready to take the package away but Odysseus stopped him.

"No! Let her mourn!"

Unwillingly the man placed the child on the ground as she crawled over it, hands still tied up, not allowing her to wrap her arms around the remains of her son or even scratch her cheeks to mourn... Odysseus watched her kneel almost like an animal mourning her calf, leaning her forehead against the bloodied cloth

"MY BEAUTIFUL BOY!" Andromache's voice rose in an inhuman tone of cries and woe

The king of Ithaca felt his heart pinch. Yes, he has heard that cry before. It was an eternity ago in Ithaca...when Palamedes had come to pick him up...

*

Odysseus was plowing the field, singing an incoherent song. He was moving his head to an unmatched rhythm. He had tied one donkey and one cow to the plow, plowing in a totally messy way. He seemed to pay no mind. Odysseus was very keen upon his disguise as a madman. Palamedes was watching the scene with Penelope from afar as his beloved queen was playing with their son in her arms.

"He has been doing that all day..." Penelope said in her melodious voice, "He listens to no one when they tell him that this is not right. My husband insists that this is the best way to plow the field."

Penelope knew her part very well. They had agreed upon it after all. Part of it was her idea too. She didn't want him to go to war and he didn't want either. Not now that they had their son to take care of. Palamedes looked suspiciously at the scene.

"I find it hard to believe the mighty Odysseus losing his mind like this...it is so fast and so sad to be true..."

He approached closer.

"Come on, Odysseus, son of Laërtes! We have work to do, we have to get ready for the war!"

Odysseus didn't reply and continued his work. Penelope approached.

"My lord, as you see, my husband is a very sick man. He cannot help you in this war. I am afraid you must find someone else..."

Palamedes looked at her sideways before turning his gaze back at Odysseus.

"Such a shame though..." he whispered as if to himself, "Such a brilliant mind...be condemned in such a way... Seems such a waste..."

He eyed Penelope and something inside her heart flattered. She didn't like that look.

"But perhaps..." Palamedes started, "I might have a cure for his...illness..."

Penelope raised a brow.

"My lord?"

No sooner had she voiced that word and Palamedes yanked Telemachus out of her arms.

"NO!" Penelope cried out surprised, "What are you doing?! Stop!"

Telemachus screeched and cried as Palamedes ran towards the field.

"NO! MY BOY!" Penelope cried out

Odysseus barely had time to see with the corner of his eye Palamedes throw his infant son to the front of the two giant animals plowing! His mind did not think twice.

"WOOO BOY! WOO! WOO!" his mighty hands pulled the reigns stopping the plow barely a few inches away from the crying baby

Rushing to the spot he picked up his precious son to his hands, he raised him to his head, he inspected those little limbs and that soft head... He sighed in relief when he found no major injuries to that little body.

"Shh..sh sh...my boy..." he cooed at his son, "It's okay...it's okay..."

His gaze was fiery as he looked up to Palamedes.

"ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR DAMNED MIND?!" he bellowed, "You nearly killed my son!"

Palamedes seemed uninterested at that coy as he smirked.

"Welcome back to the world of sanity, Odysseus. So now I believe we can talk about the preparations of the war, according to the oath you gave. Let us cut this charade and be men..."

Ashamed, humbled but above all ENRAGED, Odysseus looked up from his kneeling position, still cooing his son, trying to calm him.

"That was a low blow, even for you!" He growled at him

"You are the one to talk, son of Laërtes!" Palamedes retorted, "you are the one who always schemes to avoid his responsibilities!"

"Yes but I don't use innocent infants for it! I shall not forget this Palamedes!"

"I seriously hope you won't" Palamedes retorted, "So that we won't add 'oathbreaker' to your list of titles!"

*

Oh how enraged he had been! And yet now he remembered that moment for a totally different reason! Now he was seeing that woman who used to be a mighty queen screaming and crying over that small ball that used to be her son. She was doubling over and over, crying.

"MY BOY! NO NO NO! NO! MY SON!"

At some point she managed to grasp the cloth

"No! Don't-...!"

The cloth revealed a ball of flesh that the face and the little bones were no more recognizable. Odysseus shut his eyes closed for one secondm

"Telemachus!" He thought, "No! Not him...that's not him..."

Andromache screeched in woe as she doubled over at that small ball of flesh that used to play around a few days ago, hitting her chest with the last bits of her hands, pulling on her chains maniacally. Odysseus could take no more. He went close to her. She was a queen, she had to pull it together.

"Get up..." he whispered huskily, "please get up...for your son..."

Andromache shot her head up and spat straight on his face. The saliva from her mouth burnt his cheek like fire; like the fire that now existed in her eyes. Her woe had stopped, apart from those tears that turned her eyes red. Hatred returned...and it was all directed to him... The Man of Many Ways felt his heart turn into marble; hard and cold. He stood up to his full height wiping his cheek with his hand. He felt the dirt and blood smearing in combination with the spit. All of Troy's massacre had fallen upon him...

"Take her out of here!" He ordered in a low, cold voice

If I show weakness...I'm lost...

Andromache struggled only for one minute and that would be so that she wouldn't be separated from her son (the son that now a soldier was picking up again, sparing everyone from the unpleasant task seeing the child). She then followed her captures. She was a queen again. The only thing you could hear was some low cry.

"Odysseus..." Meriones approached him, "Are you alright?"

Odysseus winced in pain. He hadn't realized that he had clenched his fist so hard that it hurt him. He unclenched it.

"Yes..." he whispered, "Yes, I'm fine"

*

Sooo Part 2! Soon the closure will come! Dedication to some hood friends such as @aaronofithaca05 @simugeuge @prompted-wordsmith @loco-bird @jarondont

[findingjoynweirdstuff]

Dream SMP Recap (July 8/2021) - Flying Pigs

Fundy and Foolish have a literal custody battle over Fundy’s son, Yogurt. 

Drista visits after her dog died and causes chaos with Tommy, forming a bomb squad of people riding flying pigs.

---

VOD LINKS:

Ponk

Foolish

Tommyinnit

Captain Puffy

---

- Ponk continues taking down the rest of his casino

- Ponk meets Foolish at the casino site and tells Foolish that he wants to commission a Lemon Tree opposite of where the original one stood. Foolish is reluctant, saying the Lemon Trees have never worked out

- Foolish asks about what “Little Red” was, but Ponk says it’s best not to talk about it

- Ponk notices the Bruno Mars beacon and mistakes Prince Philip for Emperor Palpatine

- Ponk pays Foolish for the tree

- Ponk is overjoyed when they get a pet Endermite, but unfortunately it despawns while Foolish is running to get a nametag

- Ponk wants a new Lemon Tree so that if anyone messes with it, he has an excuse to fight them

- Foolish discovers Karl’s secret Tommyinnit Hate Club

- Foolish and Ponk talk about exploding each other

- They mine up the floor and Ponk tells Foolish about Salamone, the pillager who killed a lot of people who used to live down underneath the casino after Ponk took his legs. Salamone was the enforcer for his essential oils shop

- Ponk shoos Foolish away. Foolish returns to the summer home and gets rid of the top hats on the statues

- Later, Foolish heads over to Las Nevadas where he finds Fundy calling from a distance. They compare outfits

- Foolish shows Fundy the outhouse that doubles as a helicopter

- Fundy is rusty at Minecraft and suggests a PvP battle, but Foolish tells him about how he’s never killed anyone. He checks his statistics and somehow, Foolish has gained three player kills but he’s not sure when 

- Fundy goes over to check on how Yogurt’s been doing. Foolish says he’s been taking care of him. Fundy tells Yogurt to look at him, but Yogurt turns to look at Foolish instead. Fundy is horrified, worried that Yogurt might not recognize him anymore

- Foolish says he is Yogurt’s father and that it is better this way

- Fundy desperately throws Yogurt some berries to try and get him to look, but again, Yogurt turns to Foolish instead

Fundy: “Do you not remember me?!”

- Foolish says that Yogurt must have started seeing him as a father figure instead. Fundy wants the PvP battle immediately. They prepare items

- They can discuss who gets Yogurt on weekdays and weekends after the battle. They decide to fight under the Eiffel Tower. Fundy declares that he will prove himself as a father today

- They negotiate the terms and Foolish counts down from ten to begin the duel. He charges at Fundy, and Fundy screams and runs away, logging out

- Fundy comes back and they start again. Fundy runs away again, but after getting a couple hits on Foolish he gains confidence and wins the first round

- They begin the second battle and Foolish charges forward while Fundy hides. But Foolish has an idea to up the stakes: climb the tower.

The two climb up opposite corners of the tower and run along the sides. Foolish gets some hits, but Fundy wins the second battle as well and the duel as a whole

- Fundy goes to feed his son some berries, and Yogurt looks at him again! Fundy is overjoyed, making happy noises

- He tells Foolish to go, so Foolish leaves Fundy with his son

- Foolish continues working on the hotel

- Drista found out about her dog, Bruno, dying, and is displeased. Tommy has the idea to go to Las Nevadas where he’s set up a new place with Wilbur, since Drista isn’t old enough to gamble

- Tommy runs over while doing his best Philza Minecraft impression with C418′s Sweden playing in the background

Tommy: “I will repent my sins through the coin of the game.”

- Tommy makes it to Fort Big, thinking he’s safe. He goes to chop some wood and that’s when Drista appears, immediately stabbing him to death

- Drista teleports him back. She is dual-wielding Netherite knives. Tommy starts up a conversation and tries to explain what happened. Drista gives him Regen so that she can stab him more

- Tommy walks over to Las Nevadas and claims that Drista isn’t allowed on this territory. He tells her she’s not the legal age to gamble. Drista points out he isn’t either

- Tommy shows her how to use the gambling machine. Drista still isn’t pleased over her dog dying

- Tommy tells Dream that his sister is mugging him for her dog dying

- Tommy starts sneaking away and Dream tells Drista, who chases him down

- He asks what he can do to make it up to her. Drista wants to vandalize  someone’s house and gives Tommy a Wither rose

- They start walking back, and Tommy tells Drista that he wants to grief Captain Puffy

- Drista spawns in a dog, gets Tommy to tame it and then promptly slaughters it

- They make it back to Tommy’s house and Tommy sees Puffy’s redecoration. Drista wants to vandalize Sapnap’s house

Drista: (looking at the picture of Prince Philip) “Oh my god it’s Philza.”

- Tommy takes down Puffy’s decorations while chatting to Drista

- They walk down the path and Drista spawns another dog. Tommy tames it and Drista kills it again

- Tommy takes her over to Kinoko Kingdom and teaches Drista how to speak imaginary French

- Sapnap comes over briefly in real life, then logs in in-game while Tommy gives Drista advice on how to say no to drugs

- Sapnap tells them to leave, threatening Tommy with what he said yesterday

- Drista takes Tommy into the sky on a flying pig and he and Sapnap have an echoing shouting match

- Drista flies Tommy over to a building and Tommy lights TNT on the roof

- Tommy sets the massive OwO sign on fire and the pig catches fire too

- At Drista’s request, Tommy DMs Techno asking what pigs eat. Techno says potatoes

- Drista tells Tommy to TNT Church Prime but Tommy refuses. They land in the Holy Land and Tommy tells Sapnap to come to Church Prime. Sapnap joins the flying pig team

- Drista asks where Technoblade’s house is. They call Dream and ask him

- Tommy realizes Techno is in prison and Sapnap suggests they bomb the prison. Drista flies them over there and Techno logs on and joins the call

- Drista teleports Techno out and he rides a pig, happy to be “canonically” out of prison. Techno joins the flying pig bomb team

- Drista flies the three of them around until she stops at the Big Innit Hotel. Tommy doesn’t want to TNT the hotel, but Drista gets him to anyway

- Tommy tells Drista he wants to destroy the YOU </3 LITTLE PENIS sign. Puffy starts shooting at them. They land on the sign and start destroying it

Only ENIS remains.

- Tommy and Puffy die and Techno takes their things. Tommy says they should imprison him again. Sapnap and Techno negotiate with Puffy while Drista and Tommy fool around in the graveyard

- Drista sends Tommy a picture of Georgina

- Tommy starts rebuilding his house out of oak wood. Puffy comes over and joins VC and they banter

- Drista bans Tommy from the server

- He comes back and does not like when they start adding a granite wall. He goes over to Karl’s studio thinking it’s Puffy’s house and bumps into a glass pane repeatedly trying to get to the water, not realizing there is glass

- Tommy plays sad Minecraft music because Drista is girlbossing him, then Mask

- He calls Dream again, then gets some sea pickles to give to Drista so that he can be forgiven. Drista forgives him. She plants the pickles in the Holy Land and says he could’ve just done that from the beginning

- Tommy speaks with Dream, who tells him that in the future Tommy will still have to make it up to Drista. Drista comes back to say that there is one thing that she asks of Tommy: that he builds a Drista Hotel with a brand new dog named Brunoto (Bruno 2)

- Tommy gets one of the Drista Daggers and logs out

- Later, Puffy builds a house out of granite and blackstone opposite of Tommy’s house and removes the section of Holy Land wall blocking her therapy office

---

Upcoming events remain the same.

[vestzmc]

Ok I’ve been thinking about this for a long while after watching the stream a second time but bruhh since Karl said that the second game was canon instead of the first game, blind villager Corpse is then canon! So now imagine this poor orphan boy Robin stumbling into a village that has a dislike to orphans due to them taking up resources and the only one who defends and takes him in is this blind man who has long discarded his old name and is called Corpse by the townspeople.

- SPOILERS for those who hasn’t watched Karl’s VOD -

Corpse takes care of Robin after seeing how reliable he could be and hearing his story on how he lost his parents. He listens to the orphan ramble and talk, often telling Robin to describe him what the world looks like and what he sees, what’s going on in the village or how his day has been. Robin was his eyes and his company along with his housemate Cornelius who would enjoy Robin’s rambling as well in their small home. Corpse had offered the Cornelius his home due to people already taking most of the village houses. He can’t hear the man a lot as he’s not very talkative, often preferring to read a book than starting up a conversation. The other villagers says he looks really strange but he was a blind man so who was he to judge. That was fine by Corpse.  It was a family found in dark times.

Murders started to arise, causing the village’s civilians to change from their nice personalities into desperate accusers as the murderers hide under the cloak of night. Corpse is a blind man but he still experienced the night someone broke into his home and killed Cornelius. They knocked him off to the side as he heard them slaughter his partner while binding a gag over his mouth to prevent him from calling out for help.

The village accused him and Robin of the murder the next morning. The people were to choose who to be executed after the village meeting has came into a conclusion.  He tries to tell them they weren’t guilty which was immediately ignored. Robin cries quietly by his side.

“Robin.”

He hears a sniffle, then a watery reply. “Yes Corpse?”

“What does the jail look like.”

Robin gave a pause, wearily looking over to where they’re being lead to.

“It’s small, box like. It seems to be made out of dark stones. There’s two levers for the door and the lava pit. Some bars are by the side of it’s doors.”

Corpse gave a thoughtful hum. The place doesn’t sound inviting at all.

“Corpse I’m scared.” Robin whispers, hand clutching the blind man’s own.

“It’s gonna be ok, it’s gonna be ok.” Corpse reassures the boy, the orphan, his son. They’re going to kill his family. Steeling his nerves as Robin continues to hold onto him like a lifeline he waits for the votes, praying for it to be him.

Corpse has lived his life, Robin hasn’t.

And his wishes comes true. The decision has fallen and they call for Corpse death. He hears Robin screaming and crying, a couple of grunting and exclamations of  “ow he bit me!” some distance behind him as he enters the jail.

“No, no, no - Corpse!!!” Robin begs by the bars, holding out to him.

“It’s gonna be ok, don’t worry Robin.”

“Corpse,” Robin sobs as he holds on to his hand desperately. “You were like a father to me.”

The words sent painful warmth to the blind man’s heart. He’s glad, he’s so glad he brought some joy into the life of a child who has lost everything. Is about to loose everything.  He felt the floor disappear underneath him and the heat of fire rushing up to consume him. The last thing Corpse heard was Robin screaming.

The village went back to their homes, paranoia still going through their head. Not Helga though. She went around making a ruckus along with much noise which bothered the other neighbors. She has always lived her life wild and free despite her age which is quite impressive.

Robin slept at the jail, not wanting to go back to the house. Small and empty with lingering traces of a life he used to have before this village has gone mad. Corpse and Cornelius is gone. There was no point. He wants his parents, he wants his family. He wants to be in Corpse warm embrace again as he tells him about the insects and bugs he had found on his walk through the forest or listen to Cornelius complaining about how much Jack keeps making fun of his name. No longer does he have anyone to describe what a sunset looks like, nor anyone to teach him how to read fairy tales and write.

He never spoke another word till he died the next morning by the hands of the people who never cared for him in the first place.

[mandoalorian]

Borrowed Time [Din Djarin x F!Reader]

ੈ♡˳‧₊*: • Chapter 2: The Way ✩࿐ ˚.✧

Summary: You are the princess of Mandalore, held hostage on your own planet by Moff Gideon and his army of Imperial troopers. Left with no choice, you send out a distress signal; a plea for protection— and who comes? None other than Din Djarin, a foundling of The Death Watch. He, by creed, is your sworn enemy. And where you have asked for his protection, he has been told by his mentor that he must marry you and gain the ability to restore Mandalore to its former glory.

Word Count: 2500>

Warnings: Domestic!Din comes with his own warning.

Series Masterlist **reblogs appreciated!

Din pulled up the throttle and exited hyperspace, thankful that he was now in the perimeter of the hot and arid world of Mandalore. He'd never been to Mandalore before, only heard talks and folklore from the creed who raised him. He had thought that, since the war, Mandalore had become inhospitable. He'd thought a lot of things— but now, as it turned out, not everything was as it seemed.

When the Imperials took over Mandalore, it was said that they slaughtered the monarchy, ruthlessly, and showed no remorse. Whilst no body of yours was ever discovered, the absence in communication from you, the princess, was enough to assume that you had passed away alongside the other Mandalorians. Kriff— even a memorial had been held for you.

Din didn't know how to feel… he was being sent out to protect and marry a princess. Him, out of all people. Din sighed, leaning into the plushness of his leather pilot chair. "I don't understand kid," he hummed, shaking his head as his ship glided through the stars. He watched as he neared your planet, anxiety nesting in his tummy. "Why couldn't she assign Paz to marry her? Or one of the other Mandalorians."

Grogu, Din Djarin's little green bean of a son, garbled something incoherent, blinking his big black eyes innocently. "Hey! Speak for yourself!" Din chastised, wiggling his finger. Grogu giggled and Din rolled his eyes under his beskar helmet. He had no idea how this would possibly go, but as long as he had Grogu by his side, he knew he'd be okay.

As he approached Mandalore, he set the ship for landing. He apprehended some Imp infiltrating the comms system, requesting Din to state his business; although strangely, nothing of that nature occurred. He wasn't going to argue over it. It just meant he'd spent the last four hours making up excuses as to why he was going to Mandalore for no good reason.

"I could say we're going to Mandalore for…. a farmer's market. Do you think they have a farmer's market?" Din quizzed. Grogu spluttered in disagreement. "What about… sourberry picking?" Din shrugged helplessly and Grogu made another sound of dismay. "Well I don't see you having any bright ideas!"

The child reached over to a lever on the ship and groaned wantonly, his little claws flexing as he yearned to grab the ball his father would always let him play with. Din sighed in defeat, unable to resist his son, and unscrewed the silver ball from the lever. Grogu squealed excitedly and immediately used his special powers to lift the ball in the air. He watched it float around the cockpit with a curious glint in his eyes and Din let out another deep exhale.

"No doing the magic hand thing on Mandalore either, especially not in front of the princess. You heard what the Armorer said about you guys… the Jedi. If there was a war between the Jedi and the Mandalorians then the chances are she's not going to take a liking to you lifting up rocks at your own free will. Just please be on your best behaviour. Please?" Din asked. Grogu curled his large ears in understanding and Din smiled. "Thank you. Now, I'm going to make some bone broth before we land. Want some?"

Grogu grinned happily in affirmation, his two little teeth pointing over his lips and the corners of his round eyes crinkling with delight. Bone broth sounded yummy right now.

"Your highness, The Razor Crest has requested permission to land in docking bay 94 of the palace. Do you accept or deny?" An Imperial soldier asked you.

You blinked momentarily. Razor Crest? That ship was pre-Empire. "Yes, that's fine." you nodded casually, looking down at your hands until the guard had left your quarters.

You had to play it cool. Nobody knew that you had sent out a distress call and nobody could know— it had to remain a secret, because if an Imp found out, they'd have no choice but to tell Moff Gideon. And if Moff Gideon found out that you were communicating with surviving Mandalorians, he'd have you done for treason. You may have been the princess, but he was still technically the Manda'lor, and not only that, he was a high ranking Imperial officer. You couldn't mess this up.

You pulled yourself out of your bed and slid your feet into your fluffy slippers, grabbing a silk robe and draping it over your body. They were here already. You couldn't believe it. Your protection. You wondered many things; would they be human or another far off species? How many eyes would they have— and what colour? Blue? Green? Brown? Pink? Would they have hair, and if so, is it long or short, curly or straight? So many questions.

Din held Grogu tight in one arm as he left the ship, and let a nervous hand drop his thigh holster just in case he encountered any trouble. He was thankful to be able to dock within the palace walls because it meant he didn't have to walk for miles in order to reach you. The anxiety was beginning to settle in. Mandalore was important to all Mandalorians, and the monarchy was something they respected very much. Din couldn't even think about marrying you and what that meant, even though the beskar wedding rings that the Armorer had forged were already weighing him down... all he could fixate on was how he was even going to talk to you. You were literally royalty. You came from the Kryze bloodline who were some of the greatest Mandalorian leaders. He'd read about you and your people in storybooks. Leaving Nevarro was one thing; because Din had left his home planet many times to do bounties and Guild Work. But this time, he wasn't even sure when he'd return or if he'd return. Mandalore could be his new home. If he were to marry you, this could be his new life, and Din wasn't sure if he was ready for such a commitment.

As he approached the palace, a cold chill hung over his shoulders and Grogu scowled at the onlookers. The Imperials who guarded your home watched as Din walked through the gardens, their own fingers feeling very trigger happy. A Mandalorian on Mandalore? What were the chances? It was said that the Mandalorians had been obliterated; wiped out and scattered amongst the galaxy to fend for themselves. Of course it would be ridiculous to assume that their entire creed had become extinct, but no Imperial would have ever expected to see a Mandalorian, suited up in full beskar armour, back on Mandalore. Especially since the princess had been announced dead by Moff Gideon after the great take-over. Immediately, the Imperial guards knew that something wasn't right. A Mandalorian had no reason to be on Mandalore— not after everything that had happened to their people.

As Din approached the gates, he couldn't help but feel the glares of his enemies grow colder, and their stares burned into his sheathed body. Grogu made a questioning noise and Din shushed him.

"I don't know…" Din mumbled, not wanting to cause too much fuss or bring too much attention to him and his son.

The point was; the princess had accepted the Mandalorian's request to land in the palace docking bay. The princess was apprehending his arrival. She knew about this.

The two troopers who manned the entrance of the palace did open the doors to Din, although begrudgingly. The strange feeling that surrounded the duo was not lost on Din. He wondered if it was in fact a trap. Maybe the plea the Armorer had received was an old holo recording of your voice that the Imperials had utilized to get a Mandalorian sent out. Either the Imperials were expecting Din, or they weren't expecting him at all. But Din had just assumed the princess had at least made it safe for him to come.

The lobby of the palace was enormous. Beautiful marble floor that must have been centuries old. Ornaments and flower arrangements stood erect on every corner and tall, gold pillars held the building together. Din wondered where he'd find you, but his pondering was cut short when he heard your delicate footsteps clicking against the floor. He turned around, his grip on his son tightening in anticipation, but the moment his eyes met yours, his whole body deflated.

There you were; the Princess of Mandalore.

Din couldn't find words. His whole body involuntarily tensed up as his gaze raked your body. It was perfect; you were shaped like a goddess, or perhaps one of the angels from the moon of Iego. Your hair was the most beautiful colour and Din admired the way it shone under the amber candlelight. Your eyes were doe-like and sparkling just like the stars, and your lips were simply the perfect plumpless.

But your heart was struck with fear when you saw the Mandalorian; fully dressed in beskar armour and a helmet. Not a single inch of skin was on sight, and your vision immediately turned red. There was only one Mandalorian tribe who never took off their helmet; and it was the tribe who was responsible for the death of your mother. It couldn't be…

Grogu's sweet little voice interrupted the silence, his garbles echoing throughout the extensively sized yet empty room.

Your lips curled into a smile as you approached the child, extending your arms and taking him out of Din's grip. "Hello friend." you cooed, and the little green bean giggled under your touch.

"He likes you," Din said, his voice modulated from under the helmet. "He doesn't like many people."

You ignored Din's comment, too busy fussing over the child. Grogu laughed and squeaked as you caressed his floppy ears. "Grogu, hm? You're a cutie."

Din furrowed his eyebrows together, perplexed. He wasn't the best at understanding Grogu, but how did you know his name already? Din hadn't told you.

"Oh, you like it?" You asked curiously, taking your earring out of your ear and placing it in Grogu's claw. "It's a ruby."

Wait— you were talking to him. You could understand him. The only person who could fluently communicate with Grogu was Ahsoka Tano, and that was because she was force sensitive. Of course Din could understand menial gestures and phrases, but here you were, the princess of Mandalore, having a full conversation with the little green bean. For a brief second, Din considered if you had any force-like abilities similar to what Grogu and Ahsoka had. But the thought passed fleetingly. There was no way a Mandalorian could have force powers. Not after the war between Mandalore and the Jedi sorcerers.

"His name is Din Djarin… I see." you nodded knowingly at Grogu before glancing up at the Mandalorian.

"Uh- yeah, that's me," Din said awkwardly, taking a step closer to you. "It's an honour to meet you, your highness. I must admit, I wasn't expecting to visit Mandalore tonight. Or ever- really." Din rambled, picking at his mustard coloured gloves.

"Do they still… do they still think I'm dead?" you asked uncertainly. Din nodded and you swallowed. The Imperials had really done a good job of covering up your existence then. You glanced back down at Grogu, and back up at the Mandalorian. "You walked through the palace gardens… dressed like that?" you asked him with a frown.

Din looked down at his armour in bewilderment— your comment suggesting that there was something wrong with what he was wearing. "Uh- yes?"

Your eyes went comically wide and you thrusted the child back into Din's chest. "Are you out of your mind?" you gasped, slapping your hands over your mouth in distress.

Din placed a hand on his hip. "Excuse me?"

"Take off your helmet." you demanded, your eyes stone cold.

"What? No!" Din gasped, taken aback. "Why aren't you wearing your helmet?"

You blinked. "Why would I? I'm not in battle!" you argued, raising your voice slightly. "Take off your helmet, that is an order from your Manda'lor."

"How could you ask me to do such a thing?" Din asked defensively, his fingers curling around his blaster pistol. "Are you really the Manda'lor— or are you an imposter? A true Mandalorian wouldn't ask me to remove my helmet."

No. You weren't the Manda'lor, you didn't have the darksaber anymore. But Din didn't need to know that.

"Are you… are you a Child of the Watch?" you whispered, feeling genuine fear wash over you.

"What?"

"What is your tribe's mantra?" you beckoned further, your eyes desperately trying to search for his through the visor of his helmet.

"Our secrecy is our survival. Our survival is our strength. This is the way." Din informed you.

You gulped and looked away. He was Death Watch. His people were the ones who teamed with Darth Maul and attacked Mandalore. They were the ones who killed your mother, and now, for the very first time, a Death Watch Mandalorian stood right before you.

You had sworn that, on the occasion you met a Child of the Watch, they wouldn't live to see the dawn of a new day. But this man… this man was a father. And killing him would orphan a child, just like you were orphaned as a young girl. You could never do that. You were not a fighter.

"I think you should go." you whispered, hating the way the words left your lips. You sounded weak.

You were struggling to hold it together. You didn't realise how much it would hurt, seeing a Child of the Watch. You didn't realise how it would bring to life a million memories of your beautiful mother.

"What? I just got here."

"I am sorry for bringing you out here, and I'm even more sorry for asking you to remove your helmet. But you need to go." You said more sternly. Din didn't move. "Go!" you shouted, and Grogu flinched slightly.

"No." Din insisted.

The tears were spilling from your eyes now, and there was nothing you could do to stop them. You shuffled backwards until your ankles hit the first step of the grand staircase. You sunk down onto the steps and held your head in your hands, sobbing. You missed your mother so much; it was like every bone in your body ached for her touch. You missed the way she'd comfort you and hold you and whisper the Songs of Eon's Past to lull you to sleep. She was the greatest of leaders— a pacifist who would never hurt a single soul. She renounced all wars, even at the cost of her own life. She wouldn't want you to hurt Din. All these years you told yourself you'd kill the Children of the Watch for vengeance. But how could you now?

Hesitantly, Din placed Grogu on the ground, and padded towards you. He sat down next to you and wrapped a big arm around your body, pulling you into his beskar clad chest and hugging you. It was the first time in over a decade you'd had the pleasure of feeling human touch. You sunk into him and whimpered, letting your tears fall and dampen the black material under his chest plate. Din said nothing, only shushed you and rubbed comforting circles into your back.

He had no idea what caused the onset of your tears, but he knew better than to ask. There was no shame in crying. None at all. All Din knew was that he was not going to leave you. Not now, not ever. He was going to make you his wife.

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[reinvent-and-believe]

saying your names

Prompt: hallucination Relationships:  Geralt & Visenna  Rating: T Content Warnings: unintentional but constant misgendering by a parent; depiction of gender dysphoria in a small child; reference to child self-injury (scratching); abandonment issues; minor book spoilers Summary: Visenna's child is claimed by a witcher through the Law of Surprise. When she bears a daughter instead of the promised son, she thinks she's cheated Destiny. But Destiny rarely accepts such defeat. (Or - the trans Geralt mommy issues fic)

@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo​

-

i. The Brave Knight

There’s an old fairy tale from far-away Toussaint, one Visenna remembers her grandmother telling her when she was little more than a babe, of a cohort of the bravest knights who gathered at the behest of the first duke to slay monsters and defeat villains and protect the land from all manner of evil. They were five in total, but none rivalled the gallant Sir Geralt, who defended the innocent and the weak, who perfectly embodied the Virtues, who fearlessly and faithfully loved the beautiful maiden Liliana. It’s a story like no other, full of heroics and chivalry, grand quests and epic romance. Visenna remembers sighing as a little girl, of braiding flowers into her shining copper hair and pretending to be Lady Liliana, rescued by that most puissant and most chivalrous of knights.

She hopes that her own daughter will love the tales as much as she did, so she recounts them while Greta lies in bed, wide dark eyes barely blinking as she soaks in every detail. She’s two now and obsessed with stories, any silly rambling thing Visenna remembers from childhood or improvises about the forest creatures near the village, but none have captivated her quite like this tale.

The next day, Visenna hears her daughter whacking at the swaying cattails at the bank of the river with a stick. “I defeat you!” comes the tremulous cry. “I Sir Geralt! I brave knight!”

It’s a small thing, and silly, yet Visenna goes cold.

ii. The Babe

When she realizes she’s with child, Visenna knows it will be a boy, feels it as sure as she feels the wind on her face, the blood pounding in her veins. She’s happy for a time. She knows the horrors women face, has seen, has felt firsthand the cruelties the world inflicts on beautiful little girls. Better a boy, then. Better a boy with a chance at a good life, a boy she can teach and train, a boy who won’t beat or violate or torment.

A mere month before the babe is due, the man returns, and finds her with child, and tells her what he’s done. He blames Destiny and the Law of Surprise and Tradition as Visenna learns a new type of cruelty men can inflict.

And so she hardens herself, tells herself that she will not become attached to what’s growing within her, this life promised to pay a life debt. “Don’t be absurd,” her friends tell her, through nervous glances. “You always assume the worst. It may well be a girl. The witcher won’t have need of a girl.”

But Visenna knows it, feels it with every spark of chaos within her and every pulse she sends out. The babe will be a boy, and she will have to give him up to the witchers, to be trained and transmuted into something other, something more and something less than the child she’ll birth.

And so Visenna grows cold.

When the midwife puts the squalling red girl with dark hair and wide dark eyes in Visenna’s arms, she sobs for days, sobs until she has no tears left and her eyes are raw and swollen. She won’t let the tiny thing out of her sight, barely lets others hold the babe, even in her utter exhaustion. Destiny may have promised her child to the witchers, but Destiny made the folly of giving her a daughter instead of the promised son.

iii. Greta

Greta will not wear her clothes.

At first, it’s almost a game. Visenna dresses her in a frock while the three-year-old protests then glares in turn when she’s overridden. She moves stiffly in the garment, pulling at the sleeves and tugging at the skirt, but she complies. But the minute she’s out of her mother’s sight, the dress comes off, and Visenna finds her naked, regardless of the weather. And the process repeats.

The struggle over clothing is only the beginning. Generally obedient, respectful, intelligent, Greta is nonetheless not an easy child, prone to inconsolable fits of panic and distress, prone to disappearing if not constantly monitored. It’s as though Visenna has birthed two different children. There’s the sullen, timid girl who hates wearing clothing, who barely speaks, who flinches at the sound of her own name, who stiffens in panic sometimes when she’s called, who cries at the slightest provocation, who goes missing only to be found after a frantic hour of searching lying on the floor in the narrow space between her bed and the wall, staring blankly, hearing nothing, seeing nothing. Then there’s the other child, the one who cuts dark curls short with the pruning shears from the shed, who runs fearlessly through the woods, slaying invisible monsters all around, yelling and laughing and breathless.

When a young couple with a son not much older than Greta moves into a nearby cottage, Visenna hopes that companionship will stabilize her daughter’s volatile, inexplicable moods. Instead, it leads to an immediate altercation: on the first day Greta and the boy Marek play together, the boy’s father shows up on Visenna’s doorstep, furious, with a wide, bleeding gash in his hand. He’d found them wearing each other’s clothes, he tells her. Greta had refused to surrender Marek’s clothes, and when he moved to force her out of them, she’d bitten his hand. “Like a rabid beast,” he spits out as Visenna runs past him to the small shack where Greta makes herself as small as possible, shaking all over.

Visenna shoves a few coins at the man with a glare. “Buy your son another outfit,” she snaps, and when she kneels down to Greta’s level the terrified child’s arms wrap immediately around her neck. She takes her child home in the roughspun tunic and trousers.

(Maybe she should punish the child for biting, but Visenna knows the ways men can be cruel, had seen the terror in her child’s huge brown eyes. Even if he meant no harm in trying to retrieve his son’s clothes, she can’t help being glad the child bit him rather than permit his touch.)

Visenna has never listened to Greta’s thoughts before, rarely listens to anyone’s on purpose, hates the uneasy sense of violation the act stirs up in her. But as she carries the silent, shaking child home, the thoughts ring so loudly she can’t keep them out.

Not an idiot girl. Not an idiot girl. Not an idiot girl. Not an idiot girl.

Then:

Not a girl.

Not a girl.

Not a girl.

Not a girl.

iv. The Child

The morning after the incident with the neighbor, Visenna lays two outfits side by side on the bed: the tunic and trousers nicked from the neighbor boy, or the dress most frequently tolerated, a plain shift of soft linen, comfortable and loose.

"Which would you rather wear today?" Visenna asks, making the beds as usual. She hears the sharp intake of breath, sees out of the corner of her eye the hesitation, and then the child grabs the boy's clothes and cradles them in trembling arms.

Visenna visits a tailor and trades in little frocks for breeches and shirts. She watches her child’s face light up when she presents them, watches the child run reverent fingers over each garment, little hands doing their best to neatly fold each piece.

She stops calling the child Greta; stops calling the child anything but child. The child doesn’t seem to mind this namelessness; on the contrary, the child thrives. The too-thin frame rounds out with healthy, nearly chubby development as the child begins to eat more than a few bites at each meal; weak, skinny arms and legs grow strong with constant running and playing in the woods near the house. Banished is the pale, terrified little girl; only the rambunctious, talkative, joyful child remains.

"When I'm a knight," the child tells her one day, coming in from the yard wearing a bucket as a helmet, "I'm going to ride a big horse."

"Oh, a big horse," Visenna echoes, ladling the soup into a wooden bowl and blowing gently to cool it. "What will you name the horse?"

The child considers this. "Does it have to have a name?"

"All creatures need a name."

The child doesn't speak for a long while. Then that piping, gentle voice rings out. "What if the horse hates its name? It won’t be able to tell me."

Visenna sets the bowl down on the table. She doesn't ask any of the questions pounding through her head as she looks at her nameless child, lost in thought. She doesn’t think about Destiny, how a witcher may well show up at her door at any moment looking for their payment, doesn’t think about taking the child there herself. "Helmet off," she says instead, running a hand through dark curls when the child obeys. "Come, eat your soup."

v. The Butcher

She first hears whispers of the Butcher of Blaviken when she’s traveling through Poviss, brought north by an outbreak of smallpox needing healers. She hears of the vile, deranged, white-haired witcher who slaughtered nearly an entire village unprovoked, even women and children. She thinks little of it. The child she left with the witchers over half a century ago had brown hair, and the years would not have turned it so quickly, not on a witcher.

If he’s even still alive.

She puts the thought away, carefully, as she has for decades.

She thinks of it a little more in Kovir. “You’re one of them!” shrieks a woman in the tavern, pointing at a bulky man sitting in the corner. “One of them witchers like that Butcher! I seen your wolf necklace!”

All eyes train onto this disfigured witcher who is not Visenna’s child. (Does her child bear scars like this? Do his shoulders stoop in such defeat?) He scrubs a square hand over his face, looking almost pained, before he shoves away from the table in silence and leaves.

School of the Wolf, then, just like the witcher she’d surrendered her child to with naught but a letter left at the inn where he was staying. Your Child Surprise will be at the crossroads by the river at midday. A few brief, stilted sentences explaining that the child was different from other boys but Destiny had chosen him nonetheless. A terse plea that the witcher treat the child with kindness, to protect him if he could. A postscript, written in a shakier hand than the rest of the letter. My son’s name is Geralt.

Vesemir. The child’s father had called him old, grey-haired even then. Is Vesemir this Butcher, the ruthless, barbarous old witcher who leaves a trail of fresh corpses in his wake? Had she entrusted the helpless child to a merciless brute all these years ago?

It’s not until the notice board outside of Tridam that she understands. It’s a fairly standard notice concerning some vague, nondescript monster that’s caused disappearances, pleading for help from any witcher, excepting the butcher Geralt. Show your face in Tridam and we’ll finish you off like they should have done in Blaviken.

Her child, the Butcher of Blaviken.

She doesn’t know what happened in Blaviken, can’t find a clear telling. Killed a woman, some say, killed an army, killed all but three people, killed everyone down to the dogs and cows and sheep in his rage. Tales grow in the telling, she knows, but she can’t dispute it. Perhaps he is evil incarnate, perhaps by sending him to the witchers she doomed the continent to bloodshed, perhaps he is the monster in these furious whispers.

But she can’t help remembering the tiny, terrified body, rocking in the corner of a shack, those wide eyes staring up at her in panic. “Like a rabid beast,” the man had said, but Visenna found only a petrified child shaking in the corner.

vi. The White Wolf

The young man swaggers towards Visenna. Between the bright turquoise doublet, the enormous feather swooping dramatically through the air on his jauntily tilted hat, and the self-assurance of his stride, he looks like a veritable peacock.

It’s her own fault. She knows she’d been staring, but the sound of that name on his lips…

“Lovely evening, isn’t it?” His smile is bright and surprisingly genuine, reaching all the way up to his eager blue eyes. He’s younger up close than she’d imagined from across the tavern, barely more than a boy. “Though not half so lovely as you, I daresay. Might I interest you in a drink?”

She nods, silent. Watches him charm a passing barmaid who blushes and quickly returns with the desired ale. He slips into the chair across from Visenna, resting his elbows on the table and lacing his long fingers together beneath his chin, fixing her with a wide-eyed, adoring smile.

Before he can speak, she asks, “Your song. About the witcher.” She pauses, unsure what she means to ask. “Did you write it?”

Somehow the boy looks even more delighted. “Indeed I did! By the gods, it’s wonderful to chat with a fan. It’s one of my most recent compositions. How did you like it?”

“Hmm.” The boy’s song had been so jarringly different from any reference to the child she bore than she’s ever heard. In the bard’s honeyed voice, he sounded almost heroic. She hesitates. “Do you know him?”

“Only a little,” he admits, but there’s a slight flush on his childish face that he attempts to cover with bravado. “The song is the true telling of our grand adventure. I accompanied the White Wolf on his quest to defeat the Devil of Posada, the most terrifying monster to ever...well, terrorize the good people of the Valley of the Flowers.”

“And he’s...he’s not what people say?” Those huge brown eyes staring up at her, tiny body trembling. “Not a butcher?”

“Oh my good lady, not at all!” The bard’s expression of dismay is guileless, earnest. “He saved me, put himself between me and harm’s way when we were captured by the elves, offered his own life for mine.”

A life debt. Just as the child’s father had promised the Law of Surprise to the old witcher, the vow that had set the course of Geralt’s life before he was even born. And now this strange boy owes Geralt a life debt of his own.

“So that’s why,” she confirms cautiously. “Why you write songs for him. Make him the hero when men would be more than happy to remember him as a monster.”

The boy hesitates, his charismatic blustering slipping as he bites at his bottom lip. He reaches distractedly into his pocket, finding some trinket he rolls about in his palm to occupy his busy, nervous hand before he slowly answers. “Even if he hadn’t saved my life I would have written about him. Well, not if I hadn’t survived that particular encounter, of course. But if I’d gotten away myself, or if I hadn’t followed him into the wild in the first place, I would still have written about him.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I…I don’t think he’s known very much kindness.” The bard doesn’t look at her, quite, as he speaks, slower and softer than before. “You ought to see the way he responds to a simple compliment, you’d think his head might explode, he twitches and looks bewildered and grunts angrily. It’d be amusing if it weren’t so very sad.” He’s quiet for a moment, tracing the wood grain in the table with his eyes as he gathers his thoughts. “But he’s kind, even if the world isn’t. He gave his reward for the contract to the…well, to someone who needed it more. And before that, he…��� He glances down at the dull gold coin between his fingers, rubbing absently at worn, beveled edges, his face flushing prettily. “He liked my singing.”

She watches the bard, lost in thought and fiddling with a lone coin, for a long while.

vii. Geralt

A slip of a thing running through the woods. Frightened. Alone.

A fight. Gruesome, brutal, fast.

The stench of decay.

“And me? What did I do? I bandaged a wounded man who’d fainted away and put him on my cart and didn’t leave him to expire. It’s an ordinary matter.”

“It’s not so ordinary. I’ve been left...in similar situations...like a dog.”

Blood. Not running, red and healthy and clean; slow. Thick. Dark. Foul.

Infection.

Youths dancing in lusty delight on a warm spring night. A woman with raven curls, naked and wistful in his arms, the warmth of a bonfire lighting her face a beautiful gold. Children screaming, playing in a dried moat. A queen, formidable and sneering, full of contempt.

Hideous wounds, threatening the leg. Amputation may be necessary, without immediate intervention.

Resin in the air.

Ashen hair matted over the clumped, drying cake of blood deforming half of a pale face.

Black potion with a green seal. And then darkness.

Visenna awakes with a start.

The druids’ campsite is still, the last embers of the fire the only light in the darkness of the forest. She pulls the woolen cloak around her thin shoulders, grabs her medical bag, and goes to find the witcher that was once her child.

She finds him a pale and bloody mess on the back of a cart, eyes open and unseeing. He’s racked with feverish chills as his body desperately attempts to fight the infection poisoning him.

She helps the merchant move Geralt carefully onto blankets on the ground. She tends to him, as she’s tended to thousands of others. She cleans his wounds, scraping destroyed, decaying flesh away from healthy tissue, pulling the gentle pulses of chaos from the earth to purify his blood, draining infection and necrosis and narcotic alike from him.

She’d cleaned blood and dirt and debris from scraped knees, once, the too-fast beating of a little, huge heart pounding so loudly she could feel it. The wounds of childhood.

His pulse is slow, the drumbeat of a dirge.

She’s warm all over, suddenly, then cold. Her vision swims before her eyes.

A little more. The pulsing wanes, wavers as she begins to join him in the dark void beyond consciousness.

No.

She breathes, her eyes closed, then returns to her work.

She feels him stirring before he makes a movement, senses him swimming to the surface, coming to. He’s quiet, still, blank. When his eyes open, he’s staring at the treetops above them. His face is impassive. Lifeless.

The way she would find him, sometimes, after he went missing as a child. Staring at nothing. Trying not to be.

She can hear it in his voice. He knows.

His leg will heal, now. She’s done all she can.

She moves on to the bedsores, massaging ointment carefully into the open wounds. His body is stiff and unyielding beneath her touch.

She gives him what she can. “It’s my profession,” she says. Her voice is steady, cool. It’s no excuse, no answer, but it’s what she has. “The only thing I’ve ever been good at.” This much at least is true. This much she can give him.

She’s always known she would meet him again. She never sought him out, never avoided him. “People linked by destiny will always find each other.” She hears it, as though it’s someone else’s voice.

“I want you to look at me.” It’s a snarl. Not a sound she’s heard from those lips before. “How do you like my eyes? Do you know, Visenna, what they do to a witcher to improve his eyes?”

She knows enough. She meets his gaze.

Those eyes, the greatest marker of his difference, his inhumanity. They’re golden, now, instead of brown. His pupils are wide, round, black, pained. They aren’t so different. So monstrous.

Just the eyes of a terrified child lashing out in desperation.

“Do you know it doesn’t always work?” he demands.

“Stop it, Geralt.”

And something breaks.

“You don’t get to use that name!” There’s a frantic rage dripping off every syllable, hatred and agony, like a festering wound ripped open and left to bleed. He glares at her with a wild fury. “Vesemir gave me that name.”

And he’s a child, he’s three years old and screaming like he’s being tortured when she calls his given name. He’s five and distraught over the thought of a horse who hates its name and can’t tell anyone. He’s four and he’s a trembling mess with blood beneath his fingernails, shaking and unable to stop ripping at his own flesh.

“You trusted Destiny rather than trying to find me yourself,” he begs.

A child with nothing in the world running through the forest and into the arms of a witcher.

There’s a tear running down her face. It’s the only thing she can feel. “Don’t ask me any more questions,” Visenna says softly.

“Why?”

She’d known since before he was born that she wasn’t to keep him. That Destiny had other plans.

When she thought she had a daughter, there was hope.

“The answers will only hurt us both.” Carefully, Visenna presses him back into the makeshift sickbed.

“Yen was right.” His voice is low, barely audible, a broken murmur. “It’s not enough to be destined for each other.”

A child runs through the woods and finds a witcher waiting.

Brown curls become ashen locks. Eyes swirling brown and gold and green.

“Something more is needed.” He’s not speaking to her anymore. He’s staring up, at the treetops and through them to the stars above, his eyes losing and regaining focus. “I...I want…”

“No.” Her voice is soft, and she sees him relax into the smooth cadence in spite of himself. “Go to sleep, Geralt.” She hesitates as his eyes grow heavy, begin to drift shut, and she can’t help leaning toward him to gently whisper, “And just between us, Vesemir didn’t give you that name.” She lets herself reach out, carefully brushing white hair off his sweating brow. “It doesn’t change anything, but I’d like you to know that.”

“Visenna…”

“Sleep. I was just a dream.” She hesitates, watching silently as he fights the exhaustion, like a child fighting to stay awake past his bedtime, begging for one more story. “Sleep, Sir Geralt.”

He does.

viii. Sir Geralt

She does not see him again.

She travels to Sodden and heals the injured, soldier and mage alike.

She hears tales, as she has for years.

Geralt’s kidnapped a young Cintran princess for unspeakable, nefarious purposes.

Geralt died on Thanedd, caught up by chance in the mages’ bloody revolt.

Geralt led the forces of Lyria and Rivia against Nilfgaard, earning himself a knighthood and a position in Queen Meve’s army.

(She doesn’t believe any of them, doesn’t let herself care either way, but she hopes the latter is true. Hopes he lives out the rest of his days a brave knight, as he always dreamed of becoming.)

Visenna works. Cleans and stitches and bandages wounds, wanders from battleground to battleground. There’s no shortage of work for a healer.

So many tales of Geralt the witcher, Geralt the traitor, Geralt the butcher, the knight, the outlaw, the hero, the father. Of his victories and defeats, his loves and enemies, his transcendence, his demise.

Visenna listens to them all. Collects the stories, the lies, the praises, the calumnies. She draws them carefully within her. Carries them with her as she continues on the path.

For all the rumors and speculation and ballads, of all things, for all the different Geralts, there’s one that’s hers and hers alone. A skinny, adventurous child with brown curls and a bucket-helmet falling into his eyes who swings a gnarled oak stick as a sword. He’s ever vigilant, ever ready to defend the weak against the unrelenting onslaught of monsters only he can see.

[tyrantisterror]

I’m salty so fuck it

Let’s talk about how The Mandalorian does a better job of exploring the concept of “letting go of attachments” than anything George Lucas has ever had a hand in writing.  Spoilers for, like, all of it.

The protagonist of The Mandalorian is, from the moment we meet him, defined by his attachments, and for justifiable reasons.  Orphaned by war as a child, he was rescued and adopted by an orthodox religious group that follows a warrior’s creed - space vikings, essentially, with a bit of Samurai bushido sprinkled on for flavor.  He lost his family and home - they gave him a new family, a new home, and the training and tools to survive war and other extremely violent situations on his own if need be.  Why wouldn’t he be dedicated to that creed?  Why wouldn’t he idolize it - attach himself to it, if you will?

This attachment isolates him from others.  Because his is a warrior culture, the Mandalorian works as a mercenary - one of the few jobs where he can battle people to the death often without having to follow orders that contradict his creed.  But most people don’t want to associated with, you know, a murderer for hire, so he doesn’t exactly have a lot of friends.

Likewise, his fellow mercenaries don’t care for him much either.  Most make fun of his culture and traditions, viewing them as silly at best and weaknesses at worst.  Some are also envious to the point of contempt at how his special mandalorian gadgets and training give him an edge on them in the field.

Hell, even other Mandalorians don’t care for him that much.  Many of the followers of his sect accuse him of not truly living up to the creed because of the clients he is forced to take to make ends meet.  Mandalorians of other sects look down on him for following outdated traditions, while simultaneously sneering at him for not caring about the newer traditions they hold dear.

It’s such a consistent and important part of his identity that it’s hammered home by both his name and key visual.  The iconic Mandalorian helmet he wears, which his creed forbids him from ever removing in front of another living soul, hides his face.  We don’t learn his actual name until the end of the first season - all other characters refer to him as “the Mandalorian” or variations of that word.  His creed IS his identity to most people - his true self is hidden to all others.

Defined by his attachment.

And, as is necessary for a story about this idea, the conflict of the show arises when he develops a new attachment that conflicts with his old one.  The Mandalorian is paid by remnants of the Empire to track down and capture a person, who turns out to be a child.  A child orphaned by war, who is in peril and likely doomed to die unless someone intervenes.

Is it any surprise, then, that he immediately becomes attached to this child?

But this is a conflict, both to his status as a respectable and honest mercenary, and, relatedly but more importantly, to his Mandalorian creed - as by creed, this child, his prey, is his enemy.  Helping the child is dishonorable - it puts him and his people in danger, and it puts his honor into question.

The Mandalorian is faced with a choice similar to those faced by Luke Skywalker and Anakin: do you follow the philosophy of an ancient group of warriors who saved your life, or do you save one person you love at the possible expense of countless other lives?

He, like any good person, chooses the second option.  He betrays his employers and rescues the kid.  The employers, of course, try to get the kid back, and this results in a whole TV series full of violence that ensues as a result of this choice, with many innocent people dying as a result.  Hell, the first victims are most of the members of the Mandalorian’s sect - they choose to come to his aid depsite previous misgivings, and are almost entirely slaughtered to a man as a result.

Now, in a George Lucas helmed Star Wars story, the Mandalorian would be chastised for choosing the second option.  In a choice between one life and several, a George Lucas Star Wars story says “choose the needs of the many, asshole” every time*.  “Let IG-11 cap the little bastard, you should have,” Master Yoda would say.

*well ok except for Return of the Jedi, but still

Hell, in season two we even have a character make basically this argument, albeit briefly.  Boba Fett, a fellow mercenary who encounters the Mandalorian - one whose father once followed the same creed, but who himself says, “I give my allegiance to no one” when asked if he follows it, and thus defines himself as being, well, unattached to anyone or any creed - suggests killing the child when the Empire captures him beyond hope of immediate rescue, as it would end the conflict and deny the villains their prize.

But, pragmatic as that is, it’s also, well... you know... saying we should kill a fucking child, which is kinda fucking evil, right?

Right?!!

Instead, the Mandalorian and indeed, most if not all of the good people he encounters on his journeys, chooses to risk all in the effort to save this child.  The process forces the Mandalorian to consistently abandon parts of his identity that he is attached to.  He begins the series hating robots (they killed his family, it’s a whole situation), but he puts that hatred aside when one particular robot proves vital to the child’s safety, to the point where that robot is the first character to see his face since he put on the helmet.  By abandoning that hatred, he finally found someone - a mechanical someone, sure, but someone - who could see who he truly is, and his life is saved because of it.

He is told to see out the Jedi, who are historically enemies of his people (of course they are, the fuckers let children die all the time) because only a Jedi can help the child hone its powers while keeping it safe.  Despite the peril, he does so.  He encounter unorthodox Mandalorians who, by the version of the creed he follows, would be excommunicated for their heresy - and after some misgiving, accepts them because he needs their help to save the child.  He lets a former enemy see his face, one of the greatest heresies in his creed, because doing so was necessary to save the child.

And, in the end of season two, he lets go of the strongest attachment of all.  When a Jedi finally comes to take the child - a child the Mandalorian has grown to love like a son, the only family he still has - the Mandalorian allows the child to go.  Because as much as he loves the child, as attached as he is to it, he knows it is better for the child to be with the Jedi than with him.  

That’s how you write a story about letting go of attachments without coming off like a selfish fucking asshole.

[dalekofchaos]

If Rhaegar won au aka King Rhaegar and Queen Lyanna

In an au where Rhaegar won the Battle Of The Trident and killed Robert Baratheon(reposting my old au after so long do to harassment)

Rhaegar gets the upper hand in the battle of the Trident and killed Robert Baratheon

Tywin would have chosen to back Rhaegar once hearing the news of Robert’s death. Instead of the sacking of King’s Landing, the Lannisters would have slaughtered the Rebel forces. He would have kept Ned, Jon, Hoster and Stannis alive cause Tywin saw the value of them to keep the peace and Rhaegar never wanted the war.

Stannis would not play along, he would have been sent to the wall. Renly would have became the lord of Storm’s End

Rhaegar would have sent the medical aid to Lyanna , Lyanna would have lived

Arthur Dayne, Elia Martell, Rhaenys and Aegon would have lived

Rhaegar and Tywin would have ousted Aerys the minute they entered the red keep. Aerys would act like the grateful father and the old friend praising his old friend Tywin. But Rhaegar forcibly removes his father from the crown and Tywin orders Gregor Clegane to deliver the crown’s swift justice. Jaime’s honor would not have been stained

Jaime would immediately tell Rhaegar and his father about the wildfire plot and that would have been dealt with in a heartbeat. Rhaegar praises Jaime’s heroism and tells him that he owes him a debt that he could never repay. 

Rhaella wouldn’t have to be forced to flee to Dragonstone and would have lived to raise Daenerys and Viserys would not have lost everything and be force to become the beggar king, Viserys would have lived a stable and happy life. Daenerys would have a home, she wouldn’t have had an awful childhood, she would have her family and she would be happy.

Lyanna would have lived. I believe Rhaegar and Lyanna were in love. As soon as Lyanna recovered, I believe she would have told Ned that she did not want to be in a loveless marriage with Robert, and chose to go with Rhaegar of her own free will and tell she fell in love with Rhaegar. Ned would have understood and knew that she couldn’t have possibly foresee what would happen, so there would be peace between the Targaryens. and the Starks.

A proper wedding. Rhaegar and Lyanna would be married under the Weirwood Tree and Lyanna would wear a crown of Winter Roses and a gown and cloak befitting a Northern Queen

Queen Lyanna is loved by the commonfolk, it took the high lords and ladies sometime to love her, but eventually the Wolf Queen wins them over

Rhaegar and Lyanna would be together and raise Jon and Rhaegar will also take care of Aegon and Rhaenys

Jon Snow would be Jaehaerys Targaryen.

Elia would return to Dorne in this case, since she already gave heirs to Rhaegar and they don’t live together as a couple any longer. As Rhaegar and Elia’s marriage was a political move, not based on love, it seemed it was a platonic love, not a romantic one. it was a mutual agreement that Elia would remain in Dorne, as Rhaegar feared for her health and safety and Aegon and Rhaenys would visit Elia every now and then in Dorne. Elia and Rhaegar kept correspondence often and remained friends. Elia living a happy life is more important.

Lyanna and Elia would become fast friends. There is no resentment from Elia nor jealousy from Lyanna. Elia is happy that Lyanna was someone Rhaegar could truly find happiness and Lyanna was fond of Elia. They would correspond frequently and even bring her son to meet auntie Elia.

Jaime would remain in the Kingsguard and Cersei would remain a lady in the court who would be betrothed to Viserys when he comes of age

Petyr Baelish would have never attained the power he had in the books and would have just fucked off in Braavos.

Gerold Hightower, Barristan Selmy, Arthur Dayne, Oswell Whent and Loras Tyrell would be Rhaegar’s Kingsguard. 

Rhaegar’s small council would consist of Tywin Lannister as Hand Of The King, Gerold Hightower as Lord Commander, Pycelle as Grand Maester, Doran Martell(of course Oberyn would go in Doran’s place) would be made as Master Of Laws in a way to mend relations with the Martells, Mace Tyrell as Master Of Coin, Paxter Redwyne as Master Of Ships, and Varys as Master Of Whispers.

With Rhaegar as king, there would be more effort into sending knights and soldiers to The Night’s Watch. Rhaegar knew The Others were coming so he would indeed take The Night’s Watch more seriously than his father or the crown ever did.

The Greyjoy Rebellion would still happen because Balon Greyjoy is a fucking moron. Balon believing Rhaegar was too soft to be king, rebels, and boy was he mistaken. The end result is the same. Balon’s sons are killed and Theon is taken as ward of the Starks.

Prior to the Greyjoy Rebellions, Rhaegar began to have dreams about the one eyed kraken blowing a horn to control dragons to burn the kingdom down. So Rhaegar took action and swiftly executed Euron Greyjoy in the Rebellion

Lyanna was a queen of action. She is there to lead the armies with her husband and king. Lyanna urged Ned to be more vigilant of The Boltons. And because of The Starks watching his every move, Roose Bolton dared not take FIrst Night with the Miller’s Wife, so Ramsay is never born.  

There would be no War of the Five Kings. Tywin is hand of the king, Cersei is content with  her marriage to Prince Viserys, Littlefinger never became as powerful as he is in canon. The realm is under the strong leadership of The Last Dragon. 

Rhaegar would have taken several visits to Essos to find the dragon eggs. Eventually the dragon eggs are found and Rhaegar would attempt to hatch them. Even though he was deeply traumatized by the events of his birth, he’d still want to make the prophecy of his grand-grand-uncle become true. Only Rhaegar would be much more careful in his attempt to hatch dragons, unlike Aegon V, who managed to burn down almost all of his family and himself included. when the eggs are indeed hatched, the dragons would be given to his children, Rhaenys, Aegon and Jaehaerys. But there would be one more. This dragon would be given to Dany

Something within Rhaegar is called to the ruins of Valyria. In this expedition. Rhaegar finds a Valyrian Steel Sword. Rhaegar names his personal Valyrian Steel Sword The Song For Dawn

Betrothals. Aegon is betrothed to Margaery, Viserys is betrothed to Cersei,  Robb is betrothed to Rhaenys and Jaehaerys is betrothed to Daenerys. 

Aegon and Rhaenys would love Lyanna and treat her like their own mother and Lyanna views them as her own children

Aegon would be the heir to Dragonstone. The Crown Prince Aegon is loved by the high lords and ladies and the common folk

Princess Rhaenys inherited her musical skills from her father. She plays the high-harp and fills the halls of the Red Keep with her beautiful singing voice.  Little Baelarion always dances to Rhaenys songs. 

Summerhall would be rebuilt and Jahaerys would be lord of Summerhall. 

Rhaegar’s children would get along with Ned’s children. Jaehaerys and Robb would be best friends. Rhaenys adores Sansa and Arya. Aegon loves his cousins. 

It took some time, but Ned and Benjen forgave Rhaegar and Lyanna and grew to love them like family. The Targaryens and Starks have been close ever since

During one of Jaehaerys visits to Winterfell, Jon and his uncle Ned would spend time together and in that time, Jaehaerys would find a Direwolf. Jaehaerys would have Ghost in this au

Due to his prophecies, Rhaegar would see that all three of his children and his sister are needed to save the realm. They would be raised together and would be well prepared to defend the realm for the war of the dawn

With Rhaegar as king, the realm is safer, Lyanna lives, Elia lives, the Starks do not suffer any deaths and the realm is prepared to fight the War for the Dawn

Art by chillyravenart

Edits by thelastdragonsnet 

[kiame-sama]

How would the main four react to meeting Killua’s real mother?

Apparently I have no self control and this evolved from just headcannons into a full fic.

I regret nothing.

~~~~~~~~

Killua stood with his hands in his pockets as he looked over at the rag-tag group of people he had come to know. He felt a kind of warmth in his chest that he had only ever felt around his mother.

They came to help him.

Friends were an unusual thing for an assassin to have, but Killua couldn't be happier to see them again, especially Gon. He was thrilled to have a friend his age and even though Gon wasn't as strong as him, he looked forward to traveling with his new companion.

He was about to join the group and leave when the sound of heels on the floor made him frown deeply. He knew exactly who it was and he wanted nothing to do with her, especially given the fact she would likely hurt Gon and the others. He turned to glare at the door where the sound was coming from, tensing and ready to fight the imposter.

When the door opened he was already tempted to leap at her and rip her throat out, feeling hate bubble up in his chest. His youngest sibling stood by her side and he wanted to scoff, knowing that the imposter was only a cheap stand-in for the real thing.

Kurapika, Leorio, and Gon were surprised to see the woman arrive, curious about who she was and what she wanted. Kurapika faintly remembered Illumi talking with Killua during the final part of the hunter exam. He had said that Killua had attacked his 'mother' before he fled from his home.

Leorio figured that the woman was pretty and she wasn't dressed as one of the butlers, so she must have been Killua's mother. Gon stood and stared at the woman, unlike the others he remembered that conversation with Killua about his mom. That his real mother was locked away and being held captive by his father, so this woman must have been the imposter who pretended to be Killua's mother.

"Kill, there you are. I wondered where you had gone off to after you spoke with Silva. You still have more torture training to go through."

"No."

"Excuse you?"

"I said 'no'. I'm leaving here with Gon and not coming back!"

"Do NOT speak to your mother that way!"

"You aren't my mother! You will never be my mother! Mom is kind and gentle and better than an imposter like you!"

Surprise swept through the room to hear Killua snap in such a way at Kikyo, since he usually played along with the lie. Kikyo didn't expect such words from Killua as it was a rather big secret of the identity of his true mother. A good portion of the butlers didn't even know the truth and usually Silva's five children fiercely kept the secret safe due to their love for their real mother.

"How dare you-?"

"No! How dare you! Stop saying you're my mother and pretending to care about me. You're just a liar pretending to be her!"

"Tch, Kalluto, do you hear this nonsense?"

Kikyo glanced down at the black-haired boy at her side, surprised to see that even Kalluto refused to look at her. It was true, she wasn't their mother and she never would be, but that didn't mean she didn't care for them. She did her job to train them and raise them in her dear friend's place, but the life of an assassin was a brutal one and she had to be firm with them.

It was clear there was a mounting tension between everyone in the room. Killua was prepared to leap at the imposter if she made the slightest movement to retaliate. The tense moment was shattered by Gotoh, who had been whispered information by one of the other butlers.

"Enough. Master Silva says that Master Killua and his friends should wait here."

"Why would we wait, Gotoh??"

"Because Lady (y/n) wants to see you before you leave."

~~~~~~~~

You sat on the floor, staring outside with a forlorn look as you usually did. Even if you had accepted your place by Silva's side, you still longed for the outdoors. To stand in the rays of the setting sun and to feel the gentle wind play with your hair.

The sound of the door opening made you look over your shoulder at Silva as he entered the room. You were curious to see a small cut on his thumb as it was hard to injure him in the slightest.

"Welcome back..."

"Killua is leaving."

"W-what..? When?"

"Now."

"Wait! But I- I didn't get to say goodbye..."

You looked down at your hands in your lap, feeling sorrow wash over you. You knew that Killua wished to leave and travel the world with his friends and you encouraged him to do so, knowing how it felt to be locked up in the estate. But you still had wanted to talk to him one last time before he left. He was your son after all. The news cut deeply in your soft heart, trying to fight back tears knowing that Silva would be jealous.

To your surprise, Silva kneeled in front of you, gently gripping your chin and making you look up at him. He knew how much your children meant to you and how much pain you felt to be away from them. He didn't want to share you with anyone, even his sons, but he knew the sorrowful state you would enter at the knowledge of Killua's departure.

He wanted you to be nowhere near the white-haired child any more than you had to be, but this was different. Killua was departing for an undetermined amount of time, and when he had run away prior, you had fallen into a deep depression. Silva didn't want you to be in that much pain, even if it meant he had you all to himself.

"Get up."

"... Why?"

"Because we're going to go see Killua before he leaves."

~~~~~~~~

"Wait, mom's coming here?? But what about them? Father is gonna kill them if they see mom!"

"Master Silva said he would not harm your friends and that Lady (y/n) quite desperately wanted to be able to say farewell before you left."

"He's gonna let outsiders see mom?"

"Yes, but you know how Master Silva is, especially with Lady (y/n). Perhaps you should warn your friends before they arive."

Killua was stunned. He had no idea that his father would let his mother come and say goodbye to him, let alone with strangers nearby. But Gotoh was right, Killua needed to warn them as much as he could before his parents arrived, knowing his father would slaughter them if he became jealous.

Gotoh dismissed the other butlers from the room, being one of the few to know just how serious of a topic it was. He also knew that Silva would slaughter the other butlers if he found out any information on (y/n) had been divulged to those of such a low rank. As soon as they left and closed the doors he glanced at Kikyo who was equally stunned.

"My Lady, it would be wise if you left as well."

Kikyo didn't say a word or put up any fuss, quickly leaving with Kalluto.

"Wait, you're mom's coming here? I thought you said she was always locked up?"

"She is. I can't remember a time father ever let her leave her room unless he absolutely needed to."

Kurapika and Leorio shared a glance, wondering just what was going on. Killua made it clear to them that his father was dangerous and his arrival meant they should be as prepared as possible to not anger him.

"Killua, can you tell us what's going on so we know what to do?"

"Father... He has kept my mom imprisoned here for 28 years."

Leorio recoiled in shock, eyes wide and frightened at the idea of keeping someone imprisoned for so long. He couldn't help but blurt out his protests at the mere concept.

"Wait, if she's a prisoner, why aren't we helping her leave!?"

"Don't ever say that again or you'll be killed."

"But-"

"Father is obsessed with mom. He doesn't like anyone looking at her or talking to her other than himself. He barely even lets my siblings and I visit her. If he hears you even implied trying to set her free, he will torture you to death."

Leorio swallowed nervously, staring wide-eyed at Killua, wondering just what kind of monster Killua's father was. Kurapika was similarly worried about meeting Killua's father, having heard of the Zoldycks and their terrifying strength everywhere he went.

"Don't stare at my mom, father will be upset. Don't talk to her unless she directly speaks to you. Don't approach her at all, not even one step. Let me do the talking and don't try to argue with me or father. Stay where you are and don't move more than you have to, or father will think you're threatening her. If father asks you a question, immediately respond and keep your answer as short as possible. If you do talk to my mom, keep it short and be as respectful as you can or father will kill you."

Leorio was almost shaking at this point, wondering what the hell he and the others had gotten themselves into. It seemed like anything other than breathing would result in death. It was clear to all three that being able to even see Killua's mother was nothing short of a once-in-a-lifetime thing.

Gon had desperately wanted to meet Killua's mom ever since Killua told him about her during the Hunter Exam. She was the reason Killua wanted to be strong. She was the reason Killua had even wanted to be a Hunter in the first place. Some part of him wanted to experience how kind she was, as Killua had only spoken positive things about her.

He was shaking in fear and excitement, wondering just what kind of a person she was.

~~~~~~~~

You relaxed in Silva's arms as he carried you through the maze of hallways, not bothering to try and remember any of them. He was actually letting you speak to Killua before he left. He didn't even demand payment for allowing this to happen.

"Killua's friends are there too, right?"

"Yes."

"... Are you going to hurt them?"

"I will if they go near you."

"But... Isn't his one friend, Gon, the same age as him?"

"So he says."

"Silva... I need you to promise me you won't hurt the boy."

You saw Silva's eyes narrow as he continued to walk, refusing to agree to your plea. If it was true that this 'Gon' as the same age as Killua, then he was only a child. Your heart still held fast to your maternal instincts and that meant you wanted no harm to befall Killua or his young friend. He had spoken so highly of the other boy that you knew they were already close and they would forge an amazing friendship.

"Silva?"

"..."

"Silva."

"..."

"Stop!"

He paused in the hallway, clearly still wanting to ignore you by not looking you in the eyes, but still showing he was listening. His grip on you was a gentle one especially given the fact that your spine was still tender. You knew he wouldn't respond to you unless you did something to gain his complete attention.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you were able to move to a sitting position in his arms. With one hand against his cheek you turned his head towards you, his eyes locking with your own. Before he could inquire what you were doing you quickly pressed your lips to his, giving him no room to argue. It didn't take long for him to melt into the kiss, closing his eyes and reciprocating the gentle affection he craved.

When you broke the kiss, you held yourself as close to him as you possibly could, looking into his deep blue eyes. He almost growled in pleasure as you gently threaded your fingers through his hair.

"Please... Please promise me you won't hurt him. He's not a threat to anyone here, he's only a child."

"..."

"Silva, you know I'm your's. No one is going to take me away from you, especially not a child. Please, just let me have this one thing."

"Fine."

"Not good enough. I need you to swear to me that you won't hurt him."

"... I swear I won't hurt the boy."

"Thank you."

You settled back down in his arms, still staying pressed against him as he began walking once more. You knew Killua's friend would be safe as Silva never broke a promise or something he has sworn to. It was something that held true for the entire family; never break an oath, a promise, or swear to something you don't intend to abide by.

Silva had said they were in the smaller building that was separate from the main estate down in the valley. It was where most of the staff and butlers slept and it was the only place 'visitors' were allowed. You were excited because getting to the outter building required going outside and you looked forward to feeling the sunshine on your skin.

You wondered what Killua's friends were like, only hearing about them through his stories of the Hunter Exam. It was exciting to you, seeing as you don't really meet new people due to Silva's jealousy.

The moment Silva carried you out into the sun you closed your eyes and relaxed, soaking in the warmth. How long had it been? The only sunlight you got was the bit that came in your small window, and even then it wasn't very much.

The gentle warmth of the sun had you completely calm, a small smile set on your lips. You could practically feel Silva's stare as he observed you in the sunlight, seeing the way the rays filtered through your hair and made a gentle shine around you. Perhaps he would take you outside more often once all of this was over... Only with him, of course.

~~~~~~~~

Killua was practically a mess with stress, though he seemed relaxed and calm on the outside. He knew that there was a large danger that came with interacting with his mother, but he also wanted to see her again before he left. She was kind and soft and everything his father was not.

He immediately looked at the door on the far side of the room as it began to open, his entire body tensed. Gon, Leorio, and Kurapika stood equally tense, seeing a beyond intimidating man slowly enter the room. It was like seeing a true predator for the first time. That rush of ice-cold fear as they stared in amazement and worry at the intimidating man.

He was obviously strong and clearly would be able to kill them in moments if he felt like it. His eyes were cold and almost hateful as he looked at the three in turn. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that this was a man who feared nothing and knew everything feared him. He was completely silent and made no noise when he walked into the room.

They were so busy staring in fear at the frightening male that they didn't even realize he was holding someone. She was cradled gently in his arms as she peaked over her shoulder at them, warm (e/c) eyes gleaming back at their stares. There was a moment of silence before the giant man moved to gently set down the woman, clearly taking great care to not hurt or jostle her in any way.

Now they could see her in her entirety, they were at a loss for words. She had a sweet smile and an equally soft demeanour. Her (h/c) locks framed her beautiful face as she looked over them, her gaze resting on each of them for just a moment before landing on Killua.

"So pretty..."

Gon murmured half to himself and half to no one in particular, completely entranced by the lovely woman before him. Not even a moment later Killua was staring at Gon in despair, knowing how his father would react even to tuose soft words. As the dangerous man prepared to end the little rat, a soft hand rest on his arm, compelling him to look down at you.

"You swore..."

He wanted to snap and growl and just kill the intruder that dare look at you, but instead he angrily stood-down. If looks could kill, Gon would be dust at that point. Only then did the three realize just how dangerous the situation they were in truly was. One movement, one word, one false step, and they would be dead before they could even realize they messed up.

"Mom..."

You smiled at the soft sound of your son's voice, opening your arms in invitation. He cautiously approached, glancing at his father occasionally before sinking into your warm embrace. It didn't take even a minute before he was relaxing in your arms as you gently ran your fingers through his hair.

"Are these your friends, Kill?"

"Yeah. They came to see me and see if I was okay."

"Why wouldn't you be?"

"Illumi made me fail the Hunter Exam and they were worried about me."

"They sound like wonderful friends."

You smiled down at your son, always aware of the constant weight of Silva's warm hand on your shoulder. Glancing up at the other men in the room, you easily picked out which one was Gon. He was a scrappy looking kid with spiky black hair and sweet brown eyes. It almost looked like he was jealous or even longing for the warm hug you were giving Killua.

You locked eyes with the young boy and held out your hand in a friendly gesture to him. If you were the one inviting him over, perhaps Silva would be less angered by it.

"You can come over here..."

You could almost hear Silva's protest as he let out a low noise that was close to a growl. It seemed Killua was on edge as well as he looked up at you, lovely blue eyes filled with worry.

"Mom... I don't think that's a good idea..."

"Why? I want to meet him. You talk so highly of him and your other friends that it seems silly to not let them say anything."

"Mom, I know father doesn't like strangers near-"

"Nonsense. They aren't strangers if they're your friends. Besides, I know he won't hurt me. He seems like too sweet of a boy to do something like that. And, I know you and your father won't let anyone hurt me."

You glanced at your husband with a small frown, seeing his eyes filled with anger and hate at the young boy that stood across from you. He glanced at you for a moment as you returned the stare, not at all frightened of him since he not only swore to leave Gon alone, but he would never intentionally hurt you.

"Right, Silva? You'll always keep me safe."

"... Always."

"See? It's fine."

You looked back at the black-haired boy and smiled, gesturing once more for him to walk over to you. He hesitantly moved closer, glancing at Killua and then at Silva nervously as if waiting for either one to stop him. When he finally stood in front of you, you slightly crouched, looking at him.

"Hello, I'm (y/n), Killua's mom. He spoke very highly of you when he came home."

"Nice to meet you, I'm Gon."

"He's never brought home a friend before, so I'm sure you two are already fairly close. Please be nice to him, okay? And tell him to call his worrying mother every once in a while."

"I will."

You smiled, noticing a curious gleam in the young boy's eyes. It wasn't hard to tell that Killua would get along wonderfully with Gon and they would likely be inseparable friends.

Kurapika was still standing rigidly next to Leorio, knowing that he was being watched by the dangerous man Killua introduced as his father. Gon was right, (y/n) was a beautiful woman and it was clear how much she cared for Killua. It was also clear that death awaited anyone who dare approach without permission.

Leorio would admit, (y/n) was gorgeous. If she weren't married and being guarded by a giant murderous monster of a man, he would try his luck. But there was no way in hell Leorio was gonna even move so much as a hair's width closer than he was. It took all of his energy to stand there under the assassin's gaze and not turn tail to run.

"Killua, keep your friends safe, and keep yourself safe, okay?"

"I will, I've already promised father I would."

"Oh?"

You glanced at Silva in surprise, feeling a bubbling warmth in your chest. You didn't know the circumstances that had lead up to it, but it all made sense to you now as to why Silva had a cut on his thumb. He must have made a blood oath with Killua to remain loyal to his friends and family.

"I'll miss you, Killua..."

"I'll miss you too, mom."

After one final hug, that you never wanted to end, Killua pulled away before he and Gon walked to the other two. They all cautiously began to leave, Killua pausing to glance back at you.

"Bye, mom."

"Bye..."

You tried not to cry as you watched him go, hearing a sudden voice call out to you. It was Gon, he was smiling back at you and waving, making your gentle heart squeeze.

"Bye! I'll make sure Killua calls! It was nice meeting you!"

You couldn't help but wave back at the young boy, watching your son depart with friends at his side. When you could no longer see them, you turned back to Silva, returning to his side. It seemed he wanted to say something, perhaps chastise you for allowing someone new so close to you, but the words died in his throat as you wrapped your arms around him. You pressed close to him and gently nuzzled his chest, feeling him relax under your gentle touch.

"Thank you, Silva. Thank you for letting me say goodbye... I love you."

He let out a low rumbling hum of content at your affectionate behavior towards him, content to drown in your soft embrace. He slowly gripped your sides, gently lifting you back up into his arms. Your legs on either side of him and your arms resting gently over his shoulders, you let your forehead rest in the crook of his neck as you lazily ran your fingers through his hair. He let out a soft noise that was akin to a whine as you continued to cling to him and be affectionate towards him.

He was your captor, but it wasn't just your body that was captivated by him. Your heart, your mind, your affections, finally they were all his. He had all of you.

"Silva?"

"Hm?"

"Can we adopt Gon?"

[static-fanatic-1]

Main Four: Escapist S/O with a Three Year Old

This ask disappeared for some reason so I’m really sorry about that. A few other disappeared as well and I don’t know why, luckily I took pictures so I still have them.

Im going to separate them to make it to make it different than the poly relationship ones, I hope you don't mind.

Gon:

• Imagining this baby boy having a baby boy, it's the cutest thing. Not really as a Yandere but you get the point.

• After being gone for four years he became desperate, anyone with any information of you had become important to him. He was patient at first but he can only last so long. He probably went to your family and friends and asked about you. If they know he'll take care of them one way or another.

• Once he finds you he is ecstatic. He sits outside of your apartment, jumping up and down just waiting to walk in and hug you. But when he sees you walking past the slightly open window with something in your arms, he freezes. Gon simply stops and stares at the moving bundle in your arms. At first he might not understand, but once he thinks about what this might mean, he grows furious.

• Lets just say he jumped to the conclusion that it is your but might not be his.

• Gon enters your house by breaking the front door open. You are obviously surprised and jump back from the place near the window, the child in your arms now crying. He storms around the apartment, looking for any sign of another guy in your life. When he finds nothing he storms over to you and demands to know where the baby came from.

• Out of fear of his immense aura, you would be quick to say it's his. Just like that he switches back to his happy, go lucky self.

• You'll be shaken up by this of course, but he won't pay any mind when he rips the child from your arms and holds it in his. He will shush it and calm it down easily while dotting both you and them for doing such a good job.

• Gon will grab your hand and drag you to the couch or bedside, whatever is closer, and hold the both of you close. By now the toddler won't be crying anymore and instead laughing and playing with their dad. They may not have been outright told who their dad was or what they look like, but the baby will know.

• Speaking of the toddler, this thing would be beyond adorable. Big round eyes and a button nose, chubby cheeks and spiky blackish-green hair, they will be adorable.

• I don't think Gon will ask why you left, instead he will just take you two somewhere safe and make sure you can't leave again. You or the child.

Killua:

• Luckily Killua doesn't have a baby thing like Illumi or Kurapika, but he'd still be proud to be a father.

• When he finds you he is beyond surprised that you were able to evade him for such a long time. Sadly the little chase must come to an end, and it ends now.

• You've been gone for so long that anyone who had or as an affiliation with you is dead, pretty much no questions asked. Because you have been running off for so long you probably would not know this, the only way you would be able to escape for so long is because you left everything behind. It's sad but that is how it would have to be.

• When he finds you he will be beyond pissed off, I mean you left him for four years. That won't ever happen again and he'll make sure of it. Still, he won't show how pissed he is, instead it will be covered by an eerily calm and dull mask.

• He would enter the home you've been staying in at night, carefully maneuvering in the dark to get to you. Killua will start to notice some strange things, kids toys? Small baby bottles? He would instantly know why you left, and in return he would understand your fear, but that won't stop him.

• Instead of going to your room he will find out where the toddler is. Killua would sneak in undetected and loom over the crib/small bed, his child resting inside. The assassin would instantly know it's his, his chest swelling with a sense of pride. The fluffy white hair and pale skin are a huge indication as to who is the father.

• Carefully and gently he would wake up the kid, calmly whispering sweet nothings and how his daddy is home. The toddler would instantly understand, and will excitingly jump up and out of bed to tell you.

• You will wake up by being roughly shaken by your kid, a small questioning 'what' slipping past your lips. Why the hell you they be so excited at this hour? But when your sleepy gaze pulls them in, and your eyes settle on the dark figure looming in the doorway, you know what's wrong. Killua would calmly watch before stepping forward into the moonlight.

• You would be afraid, your child would be happy and tapping about how daddy's home, and Killua would have a smug look across his features.

• That will be that, Killua would use the kid as a hostage of sorts, as insurance to keep you with him. The bouncing baby would be a target to his family, but nothing will happen to the kid or you for as long as he lives.

Kurapika:

• Oh dear, one of the scarier yanderes of the Hunter x Hunter universe. At least for me.

• This guy is already unhinged because of you leaving, being gon for so long, without anyone to keep him in check, everyone would be killed.

• Do you guys remember the Kurapika having an S/O who just vanishes? Yeah, he would give up after six or so years, depending on how long it takes to slaughter anyone who might have a vendetta against him.

• When four years hits he is hunting down the Phantom Troupe, at least starting to hunt them down. He will be wondering the rooftops trying to find the Troupe, maybe he is currently trailing a few of them.

• If like to imagine you accidentally bump paths with them on your way to wherever you are going. Like your walking through the streets with your son/daughter and you accidentally bump shoulders with them. You would apologize (like a decent human being) and move on your merry way. (I might actually turn this into a short story because it sounds fun;))

• If That happens Kurapika would be holding his breath, because you have been found and you were too close to the enemy.

• Weare talking about Kurapika so obviously he would be angry you have left, but seeing you happy and with his child... he's beyond relieved. I mean just look at the kid! Cute blonde hair and round, brown eyes with a round face and gleeful smile.

• I can see Kurapika being very calm about the situation, which would be terrifying since he's a bit emotional. He would meet you at your house with a blank expression.

• When you two meet again he will have mixed emotions. Should he be angry, disappointed, relieved, happy? Honestly he doesn't know.

• But he knows one thing, you won't escape again. He will act like the nice guy to your kid and try to paint you as a damsel in distress. He will manipulate your kid to start being as protective as himself, and he will do this with all of your kids. Kurapika wants more children, he wants a big family, and he'll make sure he has one.

• He will trap you and lock you up, making sure your kids learn to be like him. The kids will also be a bargaining chip, you won't want to leave them but they won't want to leave their dad.

• He might not be as angry as usual, but his manipulation will surely compensate.

Leorio:

• This guy would be deathly irritated at everything if you left him for so long. He would snap at pretty much everyone for the smallest of things. But finally, after devoting so much time in finding you he has finally done it.

• Leorio would simply find you in the street and try and pluck you to the side to give you a piece of his mind. Though before he can do that you are met with some other girls, instantly he would be both curious and more irritated.

• He would take his time brooding in the dark alleyways as your group walks to a daycare. The black haired guy would furrow his brows as he watched you smile and pick up a small kid. The two of you would be laughing.

• Leorio's mood is ever changing from irritated to super happy. This would be one of those moments. He would immediately smile to himself and calmly follow you on your way home.

• When you make it home you see a man standing near your doorway, you are nervous about this man but he doesn't seem threatening. That is until you realize who it is.

• Simple 'Hey babe' exchanges will be given, your son/daughter asking who the man is. Your too frozen to answer.

• So he does for you. He'll answer with his name and then his affiliation with you, this will make your child's day. They had a dad?! That crazy!

• They'll jump into Leorio's arms and start talking about random things. Leorio would act as if nothing happened, as if he was just gone on a business trip or something. And that's what the toddler will be told too, he was gone for a really long business trip.

• You on the other hand will know, and despite him not outright using the kid to threaten you, you probably won't even try. His firework like temper would be enough to scare you into submission.