#apparently when she died they gave her ashes to her father

[bucksangel]

i, personally, think gypsy rose was one million percent justified in killing her mom

[flying-ham]

one of the greatest tragedies of the hunger games series is Mrs. Everdeen. She both begins and ends the series dealing with tremendous loss, and instead of holding on tighter to those that remain, she allows herself to succumb to the pain and loneliness of her own mind.

At the beginning of thg, katniss describes the depression her mother sunk into after the death of her father. She says that, "my mother was locked in some dark world of sadness, but at the time, all I knew was that I had lost not only a father, but a mother as well," (thg). Katniss struggles to reconcile the mother she currently has with the one she remembers from the age of 11. She cannot ever fully trust this woman again as, "I can see is the woman who sat by, blank and unreachable, while her children turned to skin and bones. I try to forgive her for my father’s sake. But to be honest, I’m not the forgiving type," (thg). Because Mrs. Everdeen could not cope with the loss of her husband, she very nearly lost her two daughters as well. Thus, Katniss and her mother's relationship became permanently altered, only really beginning to improve by catching fire and mockingjay.

Even as Katniss and her mother's relationship blossoms and improves, she still does not feel that she can fully share with and rely on her mother. In Mockingjay, Katniss tries to protect Prim and her mother, saying "It's automatic. Shutting Prim and my mother out of things to shield them," but quickly realizes even Prim can no longer fully rely on Mrs. Everdeen when she tells her, "'You could tell me, you know. I'm good at keeping secrets. Even from Mother,'" (mj). Even prim, sweet innocent prim who cries when Katniss cries, cannot fully rely on her own mother anymore.

By the end of Mockingjay, it is revealed that Mrs. Everdeen has left Haymitch to take care of Katniss back in District 12. Katniss quickly understands what this means as Haymitch explains, "'She's helping to start up a hospital in District Four. She wants you to call as soon as we get in.' My finger traces the graceful swoop of the letters. 'You know why she can't come back.' Yes, I know why. Because between my father and Prim and the ashes, the place is too painful to bear. But apparently not for me," (mj). Katniss acknowledges her mother's trauma, but also understands the hypocrisy of it, as Mrs. Everdeen ultimately lost two daughters in the bombing instead of one. She could not cope with the loss of prim, and so she gave up on Katniss as well, the same way she nearly lost the girls after Mr. Everdeen died.

[dandelion-blues]

The Souls of Death

Intro:

Lord Death's soul fragment split in two. One was Death the Kid, and the other would become Percy Jackson after the twin fragment was taken from Death.

Death, though, won't rest until his other child is found. If only the fates didn't need a son of Poseidon to be born more powerful than just being a demigod would allow.

PJO x Soul Eater crossover fanfic

First - Next Chapter

Chapter 2: To Accept Death

Percy has always felt this itch in his skin like his body wasn't fully his.

It wasn't that he didn't like his body, that he minded being a boy or anything like that either. Though Percy wasn't sure if he would mind being a girl either. It was never really something he thought of, as such thoughts were repressed after all Gabe did to him.

Percy just barely even accepted that he liked both boys and girls. That his idolization of Luke when he was twelve was actually a crush. Of course that was long since burned to ashes when Luke tried to kill him. It hurt all the worse when the one he looked up to the most tried to throw him away like he was garbage!

Percy breathes in deeply, focus. He's thinking about how weird he feels in his body. Like there's something wrong.

Percy thought maybe it was just a demigod thing, that being close to divinity made their bodies feel too small, too miniscule, but apparently only Percy felt that way.

Even Thalia never expressed feeling in such a way. Sure Percy didn’t know Thalia that long, as it was another around half a year ago that she stopped being a pine tree, but Thalia and him become really close on the quest to save Artemis and Annabeth.

Still, Percy felt that he wouldn’t get the chance to ask again because the gods were voting to end his life. 

Percy sighs, he wished he would have been able to find out what made him feel so different, so wrong. But he guesses it’s too late for that.

Thankfully, Thalia was safe and even joined the Hunters of Artemis. And the prophecy about a half-blood of the eldest gods could wait for someone better and more needed to fulfill the prophecy.

At least in this, Percy could be relieved, for only his life was at risk. It was really for the best.

Percy knew the majority wouldn’t vote in his favor. Sure, his dad, Artemis, and maybe Hermes and Apollo would, but he couldn’t see anyone else really caring. Percy just wished he could tell his mom goodbye.

The dread grew in his heart, and his body felt heavy like he was carrying the weight of the sky once again. His body ached, his bones creaked, but his resolve remained strong. Percy’s been ready to die since he was young. After he let Bianca die on this quest, after he though his brother Tyson died, after he thought he failed all the people up on the Arch when he couldn’t kill the Chimera, after Gabe beat him itches from his life.

Percy didn’t want to see how the gods voted for his life, but he couldn’t find it in himself to look away. He saw the gods towering over him in their godly forms, sitting high and mighty as they voted to end his life. His father and Artemis instantly raised their hands to spare his life. Apollo and Hermes soon followed after.

The air held tension, for it wasn’t nearly enough to spare Percy’s life. 

Except, another god surprisingly raised their hand. One Percy would have never guessed, for all Percy’s antagonized him, Dionysus voted to save his life in the end.

However, it wasn’t enough, and Zeus smiled evilly. He was in a celebratory mood, and Zeus spread his hands, “And so the gods have voted. Percy Jackson shall die.”

“Brother-,” Hestia calls from her hearth.

“Silence!” Zeus thundered, and Hestia’s hearth became mere embers.

Percy gave her a small, thankful smile, but she just watched him with sad brown eyes, and so Percy prayed one last time to his father, tell my mom I love her.

Percy looked at his father, and just this once, the seas in his eyes didn’t hold untold emotions. They held a war of sadness, grief, anger, and pride. 

I will, Poseidon told his son, his voice a promise echoing in Percy’s mind so he could finally die in peace. 

Then, Percy looked at Thalia, Annabeth, and Grover one last time.

He saw them try to run to him, screaming his name. All Percy could do was smile, not watching as Zeus raised his master bolt and fired it at Percy.

It was supposed to be instant and all-encompassing. Lightning searing through his veins. His molecules vaporized, and then Percy would be no more.

At least that’s what it looked like when Zeus stuck and Percy was gone.

Poseidon was raging, the seas and storms never letting a moment of peace. Artemis and Apollo and Hermes were furious for the one they were seeing as a friend, for one who has already done untold good.

Hestia felt deep sadness, and the warmth in her heart was cold.

This was how they rewarded their heroes?!

Dionysus showed indifference, but his heart broke for the little boy that he didn’t get to see fully grow up, wishing more than ever he could drink to drown his sorrows again.

But none of the gods could hope to fight against the cruel voting, lest they wished to join Percy in his demise.

All they could hope was that he rightfully reached Elysium as he deserved and could finally be at peace.

The mortals, however, saw no bittersweet ending for Percy to finally rest. They felt all consuming sadness and bitterness and rage start to fill their hearts. 

Annabeth and Thalia were sobbing in each other’s arms. Grover collapsed on the ground in great sobs, not even realizing that the link between him and his best friend meant he should have been dead.

Then, as Zeus, Hera, Ares, and Athena were cheering in victory and the other gods were either indifferent or distraught, all the gods went unnaturally still as eerie laughter filled the throne room. The laughter seemed to echo from all around.

“Hahahahahah,” feminine voices laughed.

“Hahahahahah,” their laughter increased, coming closer and closer.

The gods prepared to fight as a bright searing light encompassed the throne room.

Finally, the gods paled, seeing who the laughter belonged to. The sisters of fate. The all-knowing. The weavers are all who live.

The fates laughed, their voices like the wails of dying men, “You just doomed all your chances to live.”

Zeus, especially, went pale, but then his face reddened in anger, “How dare you threaten me!”

Atropos smiled her toothless grin, her voice like a groan in the wind, “It’s not a threat, it’s your fate.”

“I am your King, so change my fate!” Zeus thundered.

“No,” the three sisters laughed, their laugh echoing around and sending shivers down everyone's spine.

“Perseus was the hero who would save your sorry asses, but now it’s time for this world and the gods to end.” Clotho said smiling, her dark eyes glinting with the promise of these awful gods finally dying. They were amusing for a while, but then their cruelty just became a never-ending cycle of annoying repetition. Never changing, never growing. It’s rather boring, really.

All the gods, except those who voted in Percy’s favor, lunged the fates, but chains made them kneel before the sisters.

How stupid are they?

The fates laughed, and the middle sister said one last thing to the gods postering at their heels. Lachesis' hands gripped Zeus’s chin, and whispered a promise in his ears, her voice making even the god's ears bleed, “When the King willingly kneels before mortals, will be when the world finally turns over.”

The fates laughed and laughed and commanded their chains to wrap around the gods’ neck, while the mortals and other gods still on their thrones just watched on indifferently and sadly or even happily as the other’s screamed in pain as the chains marked their skin red.

The gods passed out from pain, scars permanently on their necks. Poseidon, Artemis, Apollo, Hermes, and Dionysus left them there and took the mortals back to Camp Half-Blood. 

Hestia, though, still so kind and good, did her best to heal her broken family.

There was nothing anyone could do.

Poseidon swore to tell Sally their son’s last words. While Hermes would go to inform Hades of the terrible news and also ask to speed up Percy’s judgment into Elysium. The kid deserved at least that much after everything.

Hades, who was supposed to be there for the Winter Solstice, but finally gave up on their family, and Hermes understood more than he wished he did. He just gave up too. This injustice was the final thing that broke the camel’s back. Percy didn’t deserve to die, and now they've doomed all their chances to stay alive. To think that the gods were doomed to die.

While Percy has already saved them countless times. He was 14! He was too young, too good, and he was dead all the same as many demigods before him.

And so the gods started to do more as they pleased, not caring for the King’s orders. They were already going to die. They might as well spend it with their kids and loved ones before their world comes to an end.

<><><>

Awareness came in incomplete patches. Darkness and light warring together in the mind.

Finally, he gasped, his eyes shooting open.

“W-what?” Percy whispered. Where was he?

Percy breathed. What? He could still breathe?

Percy stilled, and he felt his heart thudding in his chest. He was alive?

Okay, that’s… something.

Percy looks around. The sky is pink and purple with the moon? already in the sky, signaling that it’s dusk.

Percy does a double take at the moon and the setting sun. They seem to be breathing and have mouths! The moon even has blood dripping down its? grin.

Percy starts laughing hysterically. He’s gone crazy hasn’t he? Or maybe this is his eternal torture that’s been set up for him by Hades.

After Percy stops laughing, he plops down in the desert sand. Percy digs into the still warm sand to try and ground himself.

Deep breathes in…

Deep breathes out…

Okay, Percy looks up again and does his best to ignore the weird sun and moon, and he gasps as he sees in the distance that there appears to be glowing lights of a city.

Percy feels his heart racing with something akin to hope. Even as he has no idea where he is, hopefully he’ll be able to at least make it to the city and will get some answers.

Percy shakes off the sand from his still quest-ridden clothes.

Percy grimaces, he also really wants to take a shower. If he's alive he might as well have good hygiene. His mom taught him that much at least.

Mom, Percy chokes up. Hopefully she’ll be okay.

For now, though, all Percy has to do is make it to the city.

Hours pass. Hours! The sky is now dark, and a splattering of stars are in the sky. 

It’s beautiful, Percy thinks - aside from the creepy moon.

Finally, though, Percy has reached the edge of the town, but when he takes another step forward it’s like he’s passed through some kind of barrier.

It doesn't slow Percy down, nor is it visible to him, but it reminds Percy of the Camp Half-blood, sending a similar electric buzz down his spine.

Except before Percy can process that this barrier feels alive somehow, all Percy feels is pain.

It sears through his blood and nerves. He doesn't even notice that he is screaming and that his vision is beginning to darken.

Percy doesn't know how long he screams as he feels unimaginable pain. Everything hurts, and he feels like he’s bursting.

Finally, after so much pain, Percy begins falling unconscious, and the last thing Percy feels is someone catching him in their arms, and his pain starts to alleviate, and he somehow feels safe in their arms.

<><><>

Death looked up from his work. It was another long day again at the DWMA. Death makes a show of stretching his old bones like a human, and even gives an animated sigh of relief.

Death sighs, though, to himself in his death room. Death has felt lonely since Kid’s been gone. Death knows that Kid's just on a mission to Egypt and that he’ll be fine, but still Death worries (though he does not fear).

Death was about to retire to his mirror dimension for the night, when at the very barrier of his soul that encompasses his city, he felt someone enter.

Death normally wouldn’t think much of it unless it was a kishan or witch soul, but as soon as the soul entered, the soul started freaking out and was in pain.

Death instantly went through his mirror to travel vastly through the city and go closer to the soul.

Except Death recognizes this soul. He would always recognize it.

As Death's youngest child was in pain, a barrier was torn off their soul. Death never hurried as much as he did right now.

Just as he reached out from the mirror and into the shadows, he saw a young boy like Kid screaming in pain. His once pure black hair glowed now with three white lines of sanzo on the opposite side of Kid’s.

Death hurried towards his son, not having a moment to feel the pure joy of having his other child back. Fury in Death’s heart, how dare those hags seal his child’s very soul? His other son, who had once pure sea green eyes, now shot through with gold.

Death knew that the boy was in too much pain to see him, but still as he reached him and held him close, just as his son was collapsing from pain and into unconsciousness, Death hoped that he could give his child some a kind of comfort and reprieve from the pain, as he resonated their souls.

Here, Death held his other boy close, his son limb in his grasp, but his soul latching on to his father's to heal, as a child would that was still tethered to their mother.

Death still feels fury racing in his very being, but he also feels pure immense happiness as he finally has his son in his grasp.

Death takes them both into the mirror to heal and to stay safely alone. Of course Death doesn’t make the mistake again to let go of his child.

No, Death holds his other kiddo in his grasp, soothing him as he still whimpers and grabs from pain.

“Shush, it's alright my son. I've got you,” Death whispers aloud and in the resonance of their souls.

Death cradles his young son in his arms and in his soul, trying to ease his pain.

Death studies his youngest son immortalizing his face for the first time.

His youngest son is the same age as Kid, but his soul is just hours younger. His body looks so different from Kid's, but there is still a likeness they both share. For one, the pure black hair but with parallel white lines of sanzo, even as his youngest hair curls at his shoulders while Kid's is straight and is short. Also, Death may have only seen it briefly, but his youngest now has the same ring of gold on his outer eye while the inner is green.

Both Death’s sons are still so young and haven't reached their growth spurt for their mortal-like bodies. Both sons seem to hold a favor for more what society considered feminine features as well. Though his youngest seems to have a natural tan, while Kid has naturally pale skin.

Death doesn't know what those hags did to his youngest son or why they sealed his soul? Or why his son is back now? But Death still has revenge set in his very soul.

After all, Death saw the scars marking his skin. Scars that shouldn't exist on a shinigami's skin. He saw how bruised his son's body was and how torn and old his clothes were, as if he's just fought recently and a lot.

Death saw those grey strands on a portion of his son's hair. Grey hair on his fourteen year old's immortal son's head!

Death vowed that the hags would feel his fury, but for now, he needs to care for his youngest son and make sure there aren't any injuries or scars he's missed.

Notes:

Percy finally unsealed his soul!

Also, Death is furious! Things are going to go down!

First - Next Chapter

[beybladeninja]

Figured it was safe to post this little darling because I honestly don’t know if I’m going to include her in the story or not.

Meet Phoenix Nansui! And buckle up, because her backstory is kind of tragic.

This kind of plays into my Elemental Masters AU. In this AU, Xander falls in love with a woman (no, not revealing her just yet 😈), but both of them are fatally wounded during a tragic battle. As they both died, Xander’s Element of Fire took pity on them and ensured that their love will endure forever. It left Xander’s body with his last breath and burned their fresh corpses together, then breathed new life into the ashes. Those ashes became a beautiful baby girl.

The other Masters were devastated when they learned of the demise of Xander and his one true love. So much so that when the topic of who would take in the baby they apparently “created” came up, almost no one stepped forward. The loss of their big brother was too traumatic, too crippling. On top of that, neither Xander nor his lover had any family that would willingly take a newborn in. It was looking as if the new baby would remain an orphan.

That is, until Yugo Nansui stepped forward. He was Xander’s right hand man, he reasoned, so it was only fair that he take in what he’d left behind. The others were surprised that he of all people offered to take in the baby, but no one said anything against him.

So Yugo officially adopted the baby. He named her Phoenix, saying it was only fitting, given her birth. Xander’s flesh and blood was now his to raise and protect.

Yugo swore on Xander’s altar to do so with his life.

Extra Info

- To officiate the adoption, since both of her parents were dead, Yugo gave Phoenix his last name. Ukyo came along one day to help out and saw the adoption certificate. Here’s what happened:

Ukyo: Oh, so you gave her your last name?

Yugo: Yup. She’s mine now.

Ukyo: Interesting. May I also have your last name?

Yugo: WHHHHHHHAAAAAAA???

(Yup, Yukio for life! 💚💙)

So they both decide to look after what their team captain left behind.

- Raising a baby is not easy, and Phoenix was on a whole other level. It became clear early on that she’d inherited her father’s brute strength. From the moment she learned how to grasp things, she was already able to lift items that one would think impossible at her meager age. Toys, sticks, rocks - even other toddlers.

Yugo and Ukyo have had to apologize to so many horrified mothers…

As she continues to grow (growth spurt at 11, obvi), so does her strength. Pray for her dads.

- She also inherited her father’s sharp teeth, and her teething phase was a nightmare. A lot of chewed furniture and fingers…

- Phoenix appears to have vitiligo, which is the explanation Yugo and Ukyo give everyone else who asks. It’s certainly better than telling them the truth: it’s her birth parents’ skin fused together.

- Her right eye is her mother’s, and her left eye is her father’s.

- She refers to Yugo as “Daddy” (later as “Dad”), Ukyo as “Papa”, and Xander, when he comes up in the conversation, as “Father”.

- She would have worn a shirt more similar in appearance to her father’s crop top, but there was no way Yugo was letting her out of the house dressed like that.

- In certain lighting and wind patterns, her hair kind of looks like fire.

- As time goes on, the other Masters start to accept Xander’s death and make attempts to get to know his daughter. It’s not easy at first, as she looks strikingly similar to both her father and her mother, and they don’t take their first encounters with her very well. Phoenix thinks that looking at her is what’s making them sad, so she attempts to cover up her face with things like mud and masks. Upon seeing how far this innocent child would go to make sure they weren’t sad, the Masters start to make a better commitment to get to know her for who she was.

- Phoenix is kind of like Steven from Steven Universe. Both were “created” from a parent (both parents, in Phoenix’s case), but both are their own person. Not to mention, they’re both descended from pretty powerful bloodlines.

Also like Steven, Phoenix is aware of her birth parents’ fates and their roles in her creation. She goes through a period where she doesn’t know where “her parents” end and “she” begins, both physically and mentally. Don’t worry, she gets through it with some counseling.

- Phoenix’s last name may be Nansui, but she is still the rightful heir to the Shakadera family and all of its assets. Right now a branch family is in command of everything, but when she is old enough, she will have the chance to claim her rights to it. Her dads train her everyday for when that chance comes.

- She is also the next Master of Fire, and once she awakens her Element, she will be brought to the Monastery of Spinjitzu to train with the others of her generation.

I’ve had this little darling in mind for a while, and I’m so happy to finally have a reference photo for her! Once again, I’m still not sure if I’ll include her in the story or not, but she’s still a fun concept to have!

[winterpinetrees]

Voyager Country (The Gap Years Part 29)

July 20th 2019

Red Oak Harbor, the Storm Coast.

The Mercuralis family and Amedi visit Ryn's old home for the anniversary of the moon landing. Emphasis that it is his old home.

..............

“It’s so strange. I was never taught a Voyager language, but I can almost understand it”. Even as she talks about linguistics, Amedi can tell that their seneschal is giddy with delight. 

“The grammar and basic vocabulary are ancient, I think used before the Crash. The rest is modern, even human? I keep hearing English and Russian and Common Lazarin. There’s something else that I can’t identify though…” 

“You can recognize all of that?” Amedi says with little interest. 

Esther looks down. “It’s all very procedural. I shouldn’t have bothered you”.

They had officially been on duty until late on the 18th, but the two of them spent most of that day trying to find outfits. Ryn had said they should wear white and gold if they had it, representing lunar rock and the golden visors of human space armor. Red, blue, and green could be good accents, but only worn in small amounts. Amedi, unfortunately, didn’t own much that wasn’t Kebero red or Mercuralis indigo. Esther hardly owned any clothing beside her uniforms at all. In the end, Amedi gave the girl a pair of globe earrings with lab-grown sapphires and told her to just borrow something from the Voyagers once they arrived. 

(They nearly suggested borrowing something from Devanna, which is comical in hindsight. The councilor has about the same body type, but would never let a human wear her clothes. Also there’s something awkward between Esther and her seneschal. )

The Voyagers were happy to share, but they swear these sparks have a grudge. As a member of the High Council, Amedi’s appropriate title is “Your Eminence”. Before that, they had just been Sir, or Adept when speaking to other nobles. The Apex herself lets these people call her Izzy or Auroch, and nicknames are part of the culture, so Amedi lets the Voyagers call them Dee or Ash. They smile good-naturedly, but seethe a little. Can’t these backwater elves (and half-elves and humans) recognize their vambrace? Do they not notice the badge for victory in their fourth year, the six kill markers, or the trophies of war? They should at least see the leaves and spirals of the Spring Army and take that as a justification to not risk their temper. They’re not a child anymore. Certainly noble traditions aren’t any more complicated than measuring years in eights and eighteens like Voyagers do. Anyway, they don’t stop Esther from beaming at her suggestions getting more use. The locals also make good coffee.

It’s a fascinating place! The crowd is half human, mostly wildbloods that Amedi guesses came from Africa or the parallel Caribbean coast. The elves are more varied, but all follow the color scheme of lunar whites and golds. Ryn casually introduces them to his family. His father Halcyon is another tattooed Stormson. His mother Tenera drags her right foot when she walks, but apparently has an interest in their shooting. His oldest brother Procyon has a more canine aesthetic, and wears dog tooth earrings to match centuries-old bite scars. Cyon also holds a human infant, a direct descendant of himself and a human woman who died a century before. Ryn skips a brother he’s on bad terms with to find Gia, a mild-mannered Voyager who seems almost out of place compared to their adventurous siblings. Amedi thinks of their own family back home. Their brother will attend the Conservatory soon, and join them in the merited nobility if everything goes well. 

The most fascinating thing is the hope. They know Voyagers believe they will someday return to outer space, but they assumed it was a myth, like a fated death of the gods at the end of time. Walking around under the tents in the quiet rain, Amedi feels a passion like what has seized the lower nobility around the palace. Elves discuss modern science over fifty-year old recordings, news is passed around about apprenticeships for new trades, and humans even shout for children named after the men on the projector screens. 

Well, not just humans. Fedran, it turns out, is an archaic word for the planet Mars. Amedi thinks they knew that once. Ryn’s mother explains that Fedran was an ancient god of forges and fire. Once the ice sheets began to recede and belief in him faded, he became a sort of patron of mechanics. Elves have walked on Mars twice (Amedi does know that), but then the ice began to melt too damn fast and society Crashed and no one ever went back. 

“His name is a promise,” Ryn explains. “His generation is going back, and we are making that possible”.

Fen chases human cousins through the rain. Half-Mercuralis, half-Voyager, all symbol. A shiver runs down their spine despite the heat.

……………..

An elven voyager with gold paint over her eyes raises a drink and toasts to Ishtar as “Doctor Braun”, and Ryn has a hand around the collar of her shirt within seconds. The albatross tattoo under his vambrace is clearly visible, a symbol of his endurance and skill as a captain. 

“Say that again,” Ryn snarls, and she and Arjuna look at each other in shock. They haven’t seen Ryn instigate a fight in decades. Their children never have.

The other Voyager breathes quickly. There’s fear in her eyes, but like most elves from Ryn’s home, she keeps her cool. “I said your wife is Wernher von Braun. Why are you so mad? He ran NASA, now she’s bringing us back to orbit”.

Ishtar decides to step in. “What is this?” She towers over her second-in-command and the woman he’s fighting. 

Ryn turns back to her with a dark glare. “A Nazi turned American engineer”. 

She waits for the other Voyager to explain. “Basically, yeah”. 

“Human politics don’t concern me, Ryn. You know that. So, what did I do to you? Friends in the human world? A Betrayed family member? Angry that I killed Emer Sondaica?”

The Voyager blinks and her eyes flicker to Ryn’s hand by her neck. “Betrayed friends up river,”

Arjuna calmly steps forward. He looks good in white. It matches his eyes. “Lying”. 

Suen whispers to her brothers. Isolated from the real horrors of court, this is scandalous to her. She doesn’t know why her father can hear heartbeats. 

Ishtar lets his statement sink in. “I truthfully do not care. Enjoy the evening”. 

Ryn releases the woman and slinks back to the family. Chandra takes his hand. “That was so cool! When did Mom teach you how to be scary?”

He tries to laugh but his voice is ragged. “No, no. I taught myself,”

……………

“The woman I knew never would have gone out quietly,” says Ryn’s father, a man so known for adventurous violence against human ships that he was known as Halcyon the pirate before he earned the title of Stormson. “Izzy told you she let go of her scepter? That the final duel was just for show?”

“Well, she got out of it without any real injuries, and I trust my captain”. 

The old Voyager reaches for the tattoos over his collarbone. Twenty-six black bars, one for each ship he helped commandeer over a hundred and fifty years. Ryn’s heard all of the stories. 

“Emer deserved better than what we gave her. Even her harbor name was a reference to how noble she was. We drove her back to those…”

His father trails off but doesn’t break eye contact. His oldest brother, Procyon, takes after their father the most, but Ryn shares a lot as well. All Voyager captains think some of the same thoughts. He can guess the insult and shouldn’t have expected better. “What do you think she deserved?”

“Acceptance. Respect. A name for a proper Voyager. I’d rather have fought a hurricane than her with a cutlass, but all we ever talked about was her magic”.  

It’s a Voyager joke. You do not fight a hurricane. The most elite Voyagers learn to work with the storm and become its symbolic children, but when the earth sends you a category six consequence of hubris from ten thousand years ago, you bring the ships behind the barrier islands and go inland for a few days. 

“She was a good kid. I don’t know what about the throne called her like it did, but she made her choice”. His voice goes quiet. “It must have been the same thing that called you”. 

Ryn needs to defend himself. This is a challenge against his very family and way of life. He does not know why he is so reactive today. Stress? Fear? His noble vambrace is heavy and vulnerable to water. “I wouldn’t have done what she did. I wouldn’t kill someone I love”.

“Would your Apex? You’re lucky to love Ishtar as much as she loves you. I don’t think she would have let you go”. 

Ryn stands and glares. “I’m her first mate, not her seneschal. I’m-”

“I don't know what a seneschal is, Rion. Voyagers don’t keep slaves”.

A cuter nickname for little children. For the millionth time, Ryn wishes he were a noble. He wishes that the very air would crackle with his rage, and that his eyes glowed like rocket trails when he wanted to make himself heard. Ishtar set off an earthquake on the day of the coup. “I’m doing this for us! So we can get our sorry selves back into orbit! The nobility needed a quartermaster and we needed someone in power with actual plans, which happened to be my council. You don’t have to like it, I didn’t even see you for a century, but the throne does call. It calls a whole city of noble bastards and maybe a hundred idiot sparks like me!” He closes his powerless gray eyes and listens to the sound of the wind. “Maybe Izzy would kill her lover for the throne, or me if I tried to desert, or maybe I’d do the same. I don’t plan on finding out”. 

“The truth has a way of revealing itself. Why did Ishtar kill her if she let go of her scepter? It’s because their kind destroy themselves”. 

“So do we! You know full well Voyagers did keep slaves, Northern ones at least, and Cyon got mauled by a bloodhound over it. You don’t get to judge. You don’t understand how the nobility are”. 

His father sighs. He is nearly four hundred and his hair has gone mostly gray. When Ishtar is four hundred, she’ll barely feel it. “You don’t regret anything?” he asks. 

Ryn hardly spoke to his parents for a century. He has a body count, including of children. He will unleash a plague to kill some horrible fraction of the human scientists, engineers, and sailors that they’ve dedicated an entire holiday to. He misses an old friend who died because he didn’t yet understand revenge. 

“Nothing”.

Neither man stands to leave. 

………………

A small brown hawk flies from the branches of a cypress tree and perches on the main pole of a tent. The rain has mostly stopped, and it fluffs it's feathers. Ishtar and Ryn both look at it like it is a messenger from the gods, and one of them believes it.

“We only ever saw her at school, didn’t we? She never got to see this place” she says. The hawk stares down at the two of them.

“It’s a sharp-shinned hawk, Izzy. They’re common here. A sparrowhawk would have brown spots on the underbelly”.

“Life and death, you sound like a seneschal”. She leans back on the bench and throws her arms over the back. “I thought commoners were supposed to be the spiritual ones”. 

Ryn sighs. “Voyagers don’t believe they return to this world in bird form, or otherwise”.

The distance between the Ryn and the people who named him is a thousand leagues wide. On some level, this is an afterlife. The stormson died at the Conservatory with the girl who’s genus was symbolized by a brown-spotted raptor. Ryndrion Stormson Mercuralis is accepted, but he isn’t fully there. His second brother looks right through him. 

“She’d always keep watch, remember?” 

The hawk stretches out one broad wing and preens its feathers. The clouds behind it are pink and orange with the sunset. 

“We could handle it better, but she insisted”. If one of them had been at the top of the tower with her that last night, would she be with them now? Maybe Kavec Adust, that menace, would just have sent a second assassin. Ishtar didn’t take his life for it when they took his stronghold, but her husband would a hundred and fifty years later. Share the load, he’d said, already wracked by hallucinations and nightmares. Her friend’s murder was child’s play compared to Arjuna’s line of work. Ishtar stops mid-breath. They were children.

Ryn shakes his head. It’s a violent action, like he’s tearing his eyes away. “Izzy, it’s just a hawk. I’ve seen them here since I was a kid”.

She doesn’t know how to honor a bird that might be someone she loved. The high nobility worship nothing but their own devastating survival, and Besra hid whatever she did believe during her years in their teenage army. It could have been an empty story the entire time. She extends her open hands in a salute. It’s something to do, at least. 

The hawk flies away after that. 

…………........

At the end of the evening Ishtar and Amedi bump shoulders with human workers and help put everything away. Some of the decorations will be used as soon as the first real hurricane, others will be stacked up until the next year or next milestone of Ishtar’s program, whichever comes first. It’s a small life, what they live here. It reminds Amedi of home and makes Ishtar nostalgic for something she’s never had. Nonetheless, they don’t ignore it when their vambraces light up with an urgent alert from the palace. The two politicians know not to expect anything good from urgent messages, but the news is worse than they imagined. 

There has been a massive break out at Agate prison. All almost all prisoners in the main cell blocks are free, barring a few who are dead. Three Betrayed guards have been murdered, shot dead with a human pistol. The only good news is that the human girl who Amedi cursed has been captured alive. 

They tell Ryn that they need to return and make some sort of statement, but Ryn can stay if he would like. He rarely ever goes home, and the people, especially commoners, will respect a decision to stay when there isn’t anything else he can do. Ryn looks over his shoulder at the party. He’s weathered in a different way than the other adults of this town. His injuries are from other elves, not the worlds themselves. Ishtar imagines his eyes sweeping over the spider lilies climbing up the walls and the lights glittering in the trees. This is the climate he misses during dry summers and when earthquakes shake the palace. Ishtar knows him well. Well enough that she isn’t surprised when his hands clench into fists. 

“That is very considerate of you. But I want to go home”.

They decide to leave the kids with their grandparents for a few days though. Neither of them have the strength to break Fen’s heart and drag him back so soon.

...................

No authors notes this time but that the uquiz is a great way tell new college people about this whole thing. I am going to pretend that was the plan all along.

@lokiwaffles @reggie246

[musical-failgirl-fight]

Ariadne propaganda: the premise of Ulysses Dies At Dawn is a cyberpunk noir Greek Mythology heist story where the four "Suits" team up to break into Ulysses' vault and get filthy rich from the treasure inside. Each Suit is meant to open one of the locks on the vault, and Ariadne's job is to complete the "trial of love".

Jonny: [...] who better for it than Ariadne, famed for her love of Theseus? As it turns out, almost anyone. A small chamber beside the vault slides open.

Ariadne: "And what is my trial?"

Jonny: Her contempt is thick as Oedipus plugs in to analyse it. He lets out a short laugh.

Oedipus: "To open the door, one of our number must prove a love stronger than life, and sacrifice themselves without fear or hesitation.

[...]

I’m sure your fee will be paid to Theseus, whom you love so unreservedly.”

Jonny: Of course, Ariadne has no intention of dying, nor any feeling for Theseus save hate. Alas, no-one had known what the trial of love entailed, and she’d been playing the spurned lover so long she had believed herself up to whatever it might have been. But this?

Ariadne: "No."

Jonny: Theseus, as it turns out, was just a sap Ariadne had been using to try and regain the societal standing her family had quickly lost when it was revealed her parents had created the Minotaur: a beast that had stalked the City since its founding, plucking the still-living brains from its victims for the Acheron. Ariadne had given Theseus the deactivation codes, in the hope that openly righting her parents' wrong and marrying a hero of the people would make for some damn good PR. But Theseus had taken the credit and very publicly jilted her. No, she couldn’t die yet, not when the Ulysses job paid so well. She had a dynasty to rebuild. 

This leads to her song, "Ties That Bind," where she explains her backstory and motivations for taking the job.

You engineered the beast That stalks the streets Making deals with a monster so much worse Playing games with lives And bringing down his curse Mother, Father You brought our name down low Where the city once lay at our feet Now I’m working with these lowlifes just to eat I reap what you sow Your one true child

Ariadne's parents had created the Minotaur, which murdered people to put their brains in the Acheron (the computer network that keeps The City running). When the truth was revealed, her family and fortune were ruined by scandal, and Ariadne is disgusted by how far she's been brought low by her parent's crimes. Look at her, she has to work with these lowlifes to get by! Her reputation is in shambles! She has to work in administration (money laundering) instead of owning multiple businesses!

I mean, it's not like she's honestly doing comparatively better than the rest of the Suits since she has a job and isn't trapped in debt to her abusive father or mired in suicidal depression or best known for fucking her mom and stabbing out her eyes--OH WAIT.

My family will rise again We’ll reclaim the power that we used to hold The Minos name reborn From the ashes bright in letters made of gold For long we’ve remained in shadow And in far-forgotten tales never told The city shall be ours Once again, once again

And despite all the shit her parents caused, she's still hellbent on redeeming their family name and rebuilding their capitalist dynasty, because apparently that's what she's built her entire identity on. #cringefail girlboss right there.

So Theseus hunted for your Minotaur With the strings of code I gave it wasn’t hard To find it and deactivate its guard It tried to fight it But its programming won out after all Collapsing in a sparking metal heat My preening hero claimed all credit for the feat Completing my fall In dishonour I am tied

Oh yeah, and to add insult to injury, Plan A was to recruit Theseus to hunt down the Minotaur, then marry him and have the good PR of being the wife of the hero who brought down the beast thanks to her. Of course, he then proceeded to dump her at the altar and take all the credit for killing the Minotaur. However, she's still clinging to the image of the heartbroken bridge who's madly in love with Theseus, even though she hates his guts, in an effort to save face.

(And I totally think she's aromantic and performing heteronormativity for the public but that's technically not canon. Technically.)

Mother, Father, you’re both long dead I was betrayed by the one I was to wed There was no love there, my heartstrings long since cut The Minos noble name lies in the mud But not for long

Yeah, and how's trying to force someone else to be a human sacrifice in your place working out for you, Ariadne?

Oh wait, you were so busy trying to save your ass that you got shot in the heart in a thematically resonant manner by Ulysses and their impeccable laser geometry, that's how it worked out!

And guess what? Even if the Suits had gotten into the vault and she hadn't died in the process, she still would have failed because the treasure in the vault was the last tree in The City--impossibly valuable, but not really something she can sell to rebuild her wealth and prestige.

Also, the one behind the entire heist--Hades--is implied to have been able to get into the vault the whole time because they have a camera in there. They were just playing along so they could get an entertaining story and help Ulysses die in peace, and immediately after Ulysses perished they burned down the Acheron and left everyone in The City to die. So she was extremely screwed no matter what.

Anyway, vote for my awful wonderful girlboss failgirl Ariadne Minos!

oh my god

that sure is a cringe compilation of both a life and death . good on u girl

[kehideni]

Song i listened to while making this:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nUz5pDWtjfA

(sush i know it doesn’t exactly fit as it’s about a ghost visiting his son, but the vibe is similar enough)

Ho boi... here comes the letter, it’s long:

 Taimi,

Honestly i don’t even know what i want to say, there are too many things i could talk about. From your condition to who i really am... this is why i write this letter in the first place though.

 Because everything i have to say is just too much, also whenever i try to talk about them i choke up. It’s funny isn’t it? “The Commander” chokes up on words. I guess this is a good place to start, did you know that “Commander” is just one of my titles? Just one of my identities? I know you know my name but do you know who that is? I used to know.

The fact is i had to sacrifice a lot of things for Tyria. Hence the Globe i gave you.

“Beasteye Denalien” is my full name, but i prefer to be called The Commander, have you ever wondered why? It’s because “Denalien” is buried far too deep in my past. Denalien was an Ash Legion charr cub, he had a few things in common with you, such as being a sort-of-orphan (long story). You’d think it’s easy to have an identity as a charr, since they beat it into us since birth. Turns out that identity is what the High Legion wants us to be: soldiers.That’s not an identity... I learned rather early that we were supposed to be easily disposable. Have you ever heard Rytlock talk about “acceptable losses”? We were raised to accept death, is what he meant. My “identity” was shaken already as a cub since for some reason no matter how much they tried to beat it out of me, i never could easily forsake anyone i grew to care about.

My sire- no. - My father once said i inherited my mother’s heart. How i wish i would have had enough time to get to know her... she named me, you know. She wanted to give me an identity too, with the name Denalien. Apparently a clever and strong beast, and if i wear his name too i will be clever and strong too. (As a cub i wondered if i was also supposed to be a beast by that logic...) to prove myself i tried to slay said beast, i was unsuccessful.

For charr, their warband is supposed to be their “family” and more. This was the one thing i could wholeheartedly get behind in my young years, and i still agree with it to an extent, as i think of Dragon’s Watch as a warband.

Another of my titles was “Legionare”, i came by that title because my warband - all but me and Euryale - died in the mission where i first met Rytlock. I didn’t keep that identity for long either, because i soon got promoted to Centurion, which was also rather short lived.

I joined the Order of Whispers, i’m pretty sure you read up on me from that point forward. I know you know who Tybalt Leftpaw was, you know how much i kept going and fighting.

Have you ever wondered why? I have... and looking back i honestly don’t know how i did it. People just kept on dying for my sake, how is that acceptable?? I told myself that i need to take one step after the other so their sacrifice would not be in vain. I got used to fighting a hopeless war.

You’d think the first breath of air i took was after Zhaitan’s defeat, right? Truth is, it was too close a call already. So many times “what if”s bombarded me in my nightmares: what if i wasn’t enough, what if there wasn’t a way, what if Logan and Rytlock didn’t listen to me, what if i couldn’t help Eir, what if i couldn’t calm Zojja down, what if i couldn’t keep Caithe from the Nightmare Court?

The airship we boarded got destroyed, what if Tyria’s hope didn’t catch us in time? What if the cannons didn’t have the promised effect on Zhaitan?

Truth is, the first time i realized i could breathe was when you came into my life. You cannot possibly fathom how close i was to shatter under all the weight the world was putting on me. Your help was invaluable, and often times i looked to you to help me. “Just tell me what to do, and i will do it, Taimi.” was often a thought i had.

Before you, i tried really hard to keep some sort of distance between myself and the people i met. I avoided the Pact and Trahearne, i avoided Destiny’s Edge, and i kept a healthy distance from Kas, Jory, Braham and even Rox. Even you, at the beginning.

Mordremoth’s arrival changed a lot of us, not just the sylvari. I can’t place when exactly, but around his awakening i realized i have let you and the others in.

I think of you as my own blood Taimi, you grew up right by me and i could always rely on you. I couldn’t ask for a better cub, if i could design them by hand. I love you, don’t ever forget that.

You taught me again who i am. Who i was. Denalien, the cub who fiercely protects those he views as family. A quiet cub, who would give his life for yours.

So please.

Don’t leave me.

[drowsy-fantasy]

I was too young to be present at the funeral for my infant brother. My first funeral was that of my paternal grandmother's mother. I only vaguely remember it, but I do remember the burial.

I visit both of their grave sites from time to time.

I attended the funerals for both of my mother's grandmothers, one of her aunts, and one of her uncles. I don't think I was at her father's funeral. I would have been less than three years old and wouldn't have remembered anyway. I remember looking at her grandmother's mother's face and wondering why it looked so strange and flat and then later on heard one of the adults whisper that they'd forgotten to put her dentures in.

They buried her next to her third husband. Her second husband was buried next to his first wife, two rows and five headstones south. I told my mother there would be drama in Heaven that night.

I attended the funeral for my neighbour's mother, having missed the funeral for her father because again, I was considered too young to handle it. Then, as an adult, I attended that same neighbour's funeral. It was much the same as her mother's, I remember the smell of the incense in the burner the priest swung around. I remember standing for hours and singing in Russian what little I could discern. After her funeral, I went in to work a Saturday afternoon shift at my job.

I remember going to a funeral with my mother. Someone at her church had died, or maybe it was someone's mother. I remember staring at the coffin, at the person's hands. They looked so fake, like wax hands, and I was terrified.

I attended the funerals of the mother and sister of my former HR manager. We held hands and sang spirituals and talked about how they were only sleeping and would wake again one day. I think I was the only white person in the room. I remember standing in rows facing the front and swaying from side to side. One of my coworkers drove me home after each funeral, about a year apart.

I didn't have to be driven to the viewings for my direct supervisor's father, and then her mother, about a year apart. They were held at the funeral home down the street from my house, so I was able to go and give as much support as I could. I did not attend their funerals, as they were held elsewhere, but I remember hugging my manager as she cried.

I attended a funeral for a friend at that same place. I am older now than he was when he died. He was stronger than all of us in our young socialist meetings, but he gave in to despair. We drank wine and they played Money for Nothing. I still have unpublished photos of him from some of our rallies. He was giving important educational talks and helping others. I wish I had video of him, but I can still remember his voice so clearly.

There has been no funeral for my paternal grandfather. He died just before the pandemic hit, and his ashes have been sitting on the mantle above our fireplace since then. I guess we're just waiting for his wife to die, so that they can be buried together. I don't like to think about that very much.

As for weddings, I was a part of my second cousin's, as a child. I walked down the aisle carrying flowers next to a bagpiper. It was so loud and I remember being scared of the drones, but now, I love that sound.

I attended the wedding for a friend of my wife's. The colours were purple and orange and it was a Halloween wedding and it was delightful. The food was good. I don't know if they're still together at this point.

As a gift to my sister-in-law, I did the secondary photography at her wedding. She had an official paid photographer, but apparently she was running behind AND only stayed a few hours. The wedding itself was beautiful and some of my favourite portfolio shots are from that evening. I was exhausted and it was wonderful.

My own wedding was a beach affair. We chased seagulls on the sand and played on the playground equipment while we waited for the officiant. We got married under a tree and then ran to escape the rain. We went to breakfast with family still in our wet wedding gear and the restaurant gave us free cheesecake.

I hope to attend more weddings in my life than funerals, but the people in my family are all older than me. It seems unlikely. However, I have younger friends, who are still full of life, and laughter, and love. It may yet come to pass that I attend their weddings.

One can only hope.

[tiadres]

(Sent again, I just realized I used a symbol in the last one that makes tumblr eat asks hahah ignore if you got this already!) Veilguard questions: 1, 4, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 13, 20!

Hi, thank you for asking! c:

1. What was the first Dragon Age game you played?

Dragon Age Origins! So started from the very beginning ^^ I learned about Dragon Age from a friend maybe 6-7 years ago and starting from the first game seemed logical when jumping into a new series.

4. What does your worldstate look like going into DAV?

Summarizing some of the main plot points from each game:

- Warden, Tiadres Amell, is a human mage and alive & well

- Romanced Alistair, who is the King of Ferelden. Tia is his mistress.

- Recruited all companions (base game and DLC) and they are alive & well

- ... except for Loghain, who was executed at the Landsmeet

- Helped Redcliffe fight, Connor is alive and not possessed

- Supported mages, did not agree to Cullen's "request" (very diplomatically worded in the Keep, considering what he was suggesting asjfgj) and Irving is alive and well.

- Brokered peace between the elves and the werewolves

- Defeated Branka, Bhelen is the King of Orzammar. Dagna left to study and thus was the Arcanist in DAI.

- Found the Urn of Sacred Ashes, did not defile it

- Tia agreed to Morrigan's suggestion and convinced Alistair to go along with it, and thus Alistair had old god baby with Morrigan.

- ... and thanks to that dark ritual, Tia defeated the Archdemon without perishing herself.

- Protected both Amaranthine and Vigil's Keep

- Killed the Architect

- Champion, Cadriel Hawke, is a mage and alive & well

- She romanced Anders, who is also very much alive & well

- Recruited and befriended all companions, even Sebastian although Cadriel didn't really understand why he'd wanna hang out with the rest of the gang 😂. Everyone is also alive and well, except maybe Sebastian who is alive but maybe not so well or at least not happy with how things turned out. Also everyone besides him stayed with Cadriel.

- Bethany died in the prologue 😔

- Carver became a Grey Warden, Isabela returned with the tome and was not given to the Arishok, Aveline married Donnic, Merrill did not destroy the Eluvian and her clan is alive, helped Tallis.

- Killed the Arishok in duel

- Approved of Anders' actions at the chantry

- Sided with the mages

- In Legacy, sided with Larius and found Malcom's will

- The Inquisitor, Anwen Lavellan, is an elf mage and alive & well.

- She romanced Josephine (and Harding, although Dragon Age Keep does not acknowledge that at all).

- Recruited and befriended all companions

- ... except it's a bit more complicated with Vivienne. They started with very low approval as they saw the mage matters from two very different points of view, but eventually got along much better. Anwen gave Vivienne the real snowy wyvern heart, but as her approval apparently never got quite high enough, there's this funny thing in the Keep where I had to manually assign them to friends because the Keep thought that since they were never friends, Inky also didn't give her the real heart. So I fixed it by selecting the friend and the real heart tiles.

- Dorian reconciled with his father and left to Tevinter to change things, Blackwall left prison as Grey Warden, Iron Bull is Tal-Vashot, Cassandra discovered the book and rebuilt the Seekers, Sera killed Hammond, Solas freed his friend, Cole is more spirit, Varric tracked the red lyrium source.

- Leliana was inspired, encouraged Cullen to stop taking lyrium, did favors for Du Paraquettes to solve Josephine's problem

- Samson was Anwen's nemesis (this is funny in the sense that I never felt like he was some big nemesis for my character, then I saw the tile in the Keep and was like whaat ^^") More than that I felt sorry for him, it would have actually been interesting from story point of view to have him be the Commander of Inquisition's forces instead of Cullen. Learned about Samson's armor and destroyed it.

- Anwen denied being chosen by Andraste, declared for order and stability, was a recruiting judge

- Went to Redcliffe and allied with the mages

- Grey Wardens rebuilt, Stroud was killed in the Fade

- Celene and Briala reconciled, Florianne is alive

- Anwen drank from the well, respected the temple traditions and allied with the guardians.

- Leliana became Divine Victoria

- Sutherland's company was successful

- Did the exploration stuff

- Discovered and met Ameridan, shared the truth

- The dragon was slain, earned legend-mark from the Avvar

- In Descent, saved the mines and stopped earthquakes

- Bull remained loyal, disbanded the Inquisitioon, stop Solas at all costs

6. Do you have your Rook(s) planned out to any degree? If so, would you share some details or ideas you have?

I actually just talked about that in here! So I have a pretty solid plan forming for my Rook, Konstantin, who will be a mage (I really love playing mages ^^"), necromancer (I think the specialization is called "Death Caller" or something?) and a Grey Warden, and he will romance Harding. I'm certain that I will create more Rooks too (and hc them to be companions to my canon Rook, like I've done with many other Dragon Age ocs who are companions to my canon heroes even though I've also played the games as them) but I don't yet have any specific ideas regarding them.

7. Which character from the previous games or other media are you most hoping will make an appearance in DAV?

The Inquisitor is confirmed so I'm looking forward to that. Josephine would be great especially since Anwen romanced her, maybe we could get some dialogue about how they're doing and see them interact with each other. Merrill would be cool especially since she would certainly have a lot to say about the situation at hand, she could even be a good advisor on Eluvians and Elven lore. Maevaris Tilani, Zevran, Fenris, Krem, Bodhain and Sandal also come to mind, and many others certainly too.

8. What faction are you most excited to learn about?

I really love Grey Wardens but since they've been much involved in every game, I'm not sure how much new we're going to learn about them. Probably mostly something about what's been going on in Weisshaupt recently. Antivan Crows I'd really love to learn more about, and the Mourn Watch. And the Veil Jumpers seem really exciting as well!

9. Which romance, if any, do you plan to pursue first?

Harding! When we first saw reveals about the companions I was all heart-eyes at Taash (and still am, I am weak for big, strong ladies) but when I heard that Harding is in DAV and a full companion and romance option, I knew I'm going to pursue her first. My inky has a non-monogamous arrangement where she's in a relationship with Josie but also dating Harding more casually, so Harding is available for Rook even though she has a pre-existing love interest.

10. Which location are you most excited/hoping to explore in-game?

Based on the trailer, Minrathous seems very exciting. I actually like that they went for a more futuristic style with it because it is a city ruled by mages with a sense for dramatism, so of course it's gonna be like from a different world. I'm also excited for Arlathan forest, I'm expecting it's going to be a more classic fantasy location with bunch of magical stuff.

13. What's one thing you've seen confirmed so far that you're a fan of?

Harding obviously, and the rest of the companions seem very cool too and I love that they're romanceable (and pansexual too, which gives more freedom in designing characters to romance them). I know this is already another thing, but the character creator sounds amazing too and like a huge upgrade from DAI. I love that there will be an option to be non-binary, and that character creator options aren't limited to gender. Sounds like we'll have a lot freedom in making our characters, which is awesome.

20. Post a picture of gif that conveys your current level of excitement for Dragon Age: The Veilguard!

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Father of Mine – 1/2

Character: Bruce Wayne x Daughter!Reader

Summary: With the tragic passing of her mother, Y/N learns to the truth of who her father is. 

Word Count: 4,000+

Warnings: Family death, cancer, absent father, cremation 

A/N: The reader is described as tall in this fic. Bruce Wayne is 6′2 and I’m tall, so I’m indulging myself with no apologies. Read it or don’t. 

“Do you want to say anything before we…” the operator asked her.

“No,” Y/N answered quickly.

“Oh, my assistant forgot to give you this,” the operator gave her a shy smile as he handed her a small cardboard box.

She opened it to find all of her mother’s jewelry that had been on her body at the funeral.

“Thank you,” Y/N told him.

“Ready?” The operator asked.

He had been so kind throughout the whole process. It was obvious he was used to people breaking down and being extremely emotional. 

But Y/N had been stoic, almost concerningly so. 

Though he wasn’t one to judge. Everyone grieved differently.

With the pull of a handle, Y/N watched her mother’s body going into the chamber.

“It will be a few hours,” the operator told her.

He meant it will it will take a few hours for her mother’s body to burn to ash. Then they would hand her a tacky vase with her remains.

Y/N just nodded. “I’ll go for a walk.”

As soon as she was outside, Y/N called her mother’s executor.

“Ms. Y/L/N, I was just about to call you.”

“I’m at the crematory,” she told him. “I figured we should discuss the bills that still need to be paid for.”

“Yes, of course. As I mentioned to you before, your mother’s life insurance covers quite a lot of it…” his words died out.

“But it’s still not enough,” Y/N finished for him. “I’ll get the money.”

She wasn’t exactly rich, but she also wasn’t living paycheck to paycheck. But people never realized how much money it cost for loved ones to die. It was honestly ridiculous.

“You might want to consider taking out a loan,” he tried to suggest gently.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Another thing, Ms. Y/L/N. There was an envelope with a name on it. And your mother left instructions on delivering the envelope to them.”

She stopped her pacing. 

“What name is on the envelope?” Y/N asked.

There was a pause.

“Bruce Wayne.”

Y/N’s brow furrowed.

Of course she knew who Bruce Wayne was – everyone in Gotham did, as well as most of the country. He was a billionaire playboy, only making headlines when he was a mess. But every once in awhile his philanthropy would sneak in there. Y/N always assumed those were only to help recover his image and not because he was a good person.

“You still there?” The executor asked.

“Yeah. I’m just a bit confused. But please pass it along to him, if that’s what my mom wanted.”

“I can’t. The instructions specifically say for you to deliver the envelop to him in person.”

“In person?” Y/N groaned in annoyance as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

Why did all of this have to be so god damn complicated?

“Yes. Her instructions are…oddly specific."

“Fine,” she huffed. “I’ll pick up everything from your office before the work day ends.”

——————

Y/N stared at the envelop that she’d tossed on her coffee table as she sipped a rather large glass of red wine.

She was wracking her brain trying to think of a time when her mom mentioned knowing Bruce Wayne. But Y/N would’ve remembered her mom saying his name – even in passing. It’s not a name that one can drop casually.

Y/N pulled up her phone and googled him. But she looked at his history. Yes, he was from Gotham, as was her mom, but so were 10 million other people.

But then Y/N’s scrolling paused when she realized they went to the same high school: Gotham Academy. Not only that, they graduated in the same year.

‘Were they friends?’ Y/N wondered.

But just classmates or friends still didn’t seem to warrant a handwritten letter to be delivered after one’s death.

Y/N didn’t open the envelope.

Her mother’s instructions specifically told her not to. And if she put in that much of an effort to get this done after her death, Y/N wasn’t going to ignore such a request.

That didn’t mean she wasn’t curious.

“Fuck,” Y/N sighed before throwing back the rest of her wine.

——————

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I can’t grant you access to the building without your name being in the system by the company you’re visiting,” the building receptionist told her for the third time.

“I understand. But I called his office 30 fucking times and they refuse to put me through to him or get me an appointment,” Y/N practically growled.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I already called their office to say you were here and they didn’t recognize your name. I can’t let you through to the elevators.”

Y/N’s gaze flickered to the security guard who stood a few feet away. He was eyeing her now that there was clearly an argument going on.

Y/N wanted to roll her eyes. She had a good foot on him – even without her heels on. And he looked like he couldn’t run a 50 yard dash without passing out or vomiting. If he thought he was going to physically stop her, he had another thing coming.

“Listen, I am not some crazy fucking stalker. My mom knew Bruce Wayne and in her will she asked me to deliver this to him,” Y/N’s voice lowered and became disturbingly calm. “I don’t want to be here just as much as you don’t want to have this conversation.”

“Ma’am, I’m going to need you to calm down,” the security guard finally stepped forward.

“Oh, fuck off,” Y/N rolled her eyes at the rent-a-cop.

“Ma’am, I’ll have to ask you to leave,” he continued.

“Call me ma’am one more fucking time…” Y/N growled.

But the security guard was taking a step to her.

“Excuse me. What seems to be the problem here?” A voice suddenly interrupted.

Everyone turned to see a young man – younger than Y/N – glaring at the security guard just as he was about to grab Y/N.

“M-Mr. Drake, we were just escorting this young woman from the premises,” the guard stuttered out.

Everyone at the building knew every member of the Wayne family. But unlike his siblings, Tim Drake was at the office almost every day. As one should be when they’re the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company.

“For what reason?” Tim Drake asked.

“She insists on seeing Mr. Wayne. But she doesn’t have an appointment. For security reasons, I cannot let her through, obviously, unless the company she is visiting has put her into their system and the building’s system,” the receptionist explained nervously.

Y/N frowned as if she was bored of the whole thing.

Tim stepped forward. “May I ask what your business with Bruce Wayne is?”

Now that he was closer, Y/N noticed how exhausted he looked. He was handsome still, of course. But she wondered when he last got a good night’s sleep. He was shorter than her, probably standing at 5’5. And she still believed he was younger than her, which was wild seeing as he was already the CEO and couldn’t be older than 24.

Y/N sighed before she grabbed the envelope from her black leather satchel, and showed that Bruce Wayne’s name was handwritten on it.

“My mother wished me to personally deliver this to him.”

Tim tilted his head slightly. “Why isn’t she doing it?”

“Because she’s dead,” she shot back without emotion.

But Tim’s face became sympathetic. “I’m sorry. I should’ve assumed…”

“It’s fine,” Y/N quickly cut him off before he could continue.

She was so tired of being on the receiving end of people’s sympathy. It didn’t help. And the words stopped holding any meaning to her.

“But I’m sorry. Bruce isn’t in today. And he probably won’t be coming to the office for the rest of the week.”

“Oh,” was all she responded with.

Of course Bruce Wayne didn’t come to work. Why would he?

This was a stupid idea. And now she had made a scene because of it.

“But if you give me your information, I will personally let him know that you are trying to reach him.”

“Really?” Y/N asked in shock.

Tim smiled at her surprise. “Of course.”

“Here’s my card,” she quickly grabbed one from her wallet and then a pen. “All my info is on that.” She wrote something on the back. “And that’s my mom’s name.”

He took it from her and nodded. “What was your mother’s relationship with Bruce?”

Y/N shrugged. “Honestly, I have no idea. I’ve been trying to figure it out. Apparently they graduated in the same high school class. But that’s all I was able to find.”

He nodded.

“Thank you…Mr. Drake. For your help. Really,” she urged.

“Please, it’s just Tim.” Then he glared at the receptionist and security guard. “For you it is, at least.”

“Thank you again,” Y/N felt like saying it 30 more times still wouldn’t be enough.

“You don’t have to thank me. Someone will be in touch. Have a good day, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Y/N,” she corrected with a smile before she nodded and started backing away.

He smiled at her correction and gave a final nod.

——————

Y/N didn’t expect to hear from anyone for at least a week.

If the Wayne family was one thing, it was busy.

They probably had parties to go to, meetings to attend, private jets taking them around the world whenever they wished.

Why would they ever prioritize a meeting with her, a stranger?

So imagine her surprise when she received a call from an unrecognized number the same day she gave Tim Drake her card.

“Hello?” She answered.

Usually she would let any unknown number go to voicemail.

“Hello,” a British voice answered. “Am I speaking with Ms. Y/F/N Y/L/N?”

“This is she,” Y/N sat up straighter on her couch.

“This is Alfred Pennyworth. I work for Master Wayne and manage all his personal appointments. I was told by Master Tim that you wished to meet with him?”

“Uhhh. Yes. Yes, I do. Is that…is that possible?”

“Would you be able to stop by Wayne Manor on Friday afternoon?”

Y/N already knew she had nothing going on that would stop her from getting this done. But she still paused to pretend to think about it.

“Yes, Friday afternoon should be fine. Are you sure he doesn’t just want me to stop by Wayne Enterprises?”

It felt oddly intimate to stop by Wayne Manor. Wouldn’t they want to meet her in a more secure location like a corporate building with security that already hated her?

“He is quite certain. Should I send a car for you Ms. Y/L/N?”

A car?

Y/N felt even more out of her depth now.

“Oh, no. That won’t be necessary. I’ll be there.”

“I look forward to meeting you, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Thanks,” she answered before hanging up and realizing that probably wasn’t the proper response to such a polite goodbye.

——————

“I haven’t heard that name since high school,” Bruce had muttered as he stared at the business card for what felt like the thousandth time.

“Yes, and the end of your relationship did not end on the best of terms,” Alfred commented.

Y/M’s/N Y/L/N had been Bruce’s high school sweetheart.

An she had seen the last moments of Bruce’s normal life. 

Upon graduation, Bruce decided to leave Gotham and that’s how his second life was founded. The two of them broke up before the summer after graduation had even ended.

Well, “Breakup” was a strong word.

Bruce stopped answering her calls.

She was his first love and he continued to love her.

But once Bruce realized where his life was going and who he wanted to be, he knew he couldn’t drag her into it. She deserved better.

And Bruce was a coward about relationships then. Maybe he still was.

“I am certain you did a thorough background check on her already,” Alfred commented with a smirk.

Bruce took in a breath before listing off all of her accomplishments. “Y/F/N Y/L/N. Graduated number one in her class at Gotham Academy. She was the star of the track team, breaking the regional record for fastest time in 100m, 200m, and 400m races. Also captain of her soccer team. Attended NYU’s photography program before dropping out after a year. Now she’s a professional photography. Her work’s been featured in Vogue, New York Times, National Geographic…amongst others.”

“Rather an impressive woman,” Alfred said.

Bruce nodded.

“I should get the tea and coffee ready for her arrival.” And with that, Alfred left Bruce in the drawing room.

30 minutes later, the doorbell rang.

Bruce glanced down at his watch: she was right on time.

He heard Alfred saying his pleasantries before he heard the clicking of her heels as she rounded the corner to enter the room he was waiting in.

For being a famous photographer, she could’ve been a runway model with her height and the way she walked into the room, completely owning it. She wore four-inch heels, only adding to her natural tallness. And her bright, red coat only added to her presence.

For a split second, Bruce was convinced that he was looking at an Amazon. Diana immediately flashed into his mind for a split second. Perhaps that was what Y/M’s/N needed help with: to get her daughter to her real people. But how would she have known Bruce Wayne had such connections? Unless she knew Batman’s true identity…

As soon as Y/N spotted him in the room, he rose from his seat.

“Ms. Y/L/N,” Bruce greeted.

He took a step forward and held out his hand.

“You guys really love the formalities.” She said it with a dark evenness, but it was clearly a joke. “Y/N is fine, Mr. Wayne,” she added as she shook his hand.

“In that case, it’s Bruce,” he countered with a soft smirk.

There was something so familiar about her. But Bruce knew they’d never met. 

“Thank you for seeing me. I don’t want to waste anymore of your time,” Y/N quickly got to it. She opened her purse to grab the envelope.

“My mom wanted you to have this. And she wanted to make sure I was the one to give it to you,” Y/N explained as she offered it to him.

Bruce took it carefully, but didn’t open it. “Yes, I heard about her passing. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” she said hurriedly, making it obvious to Bruce that she did not want nor need his condolences.

Bruce nodded slowly.

There was a pause.

“Do you know what it says?” He asked her lightly.

She shook her head. “I wasn’t supposed to read it.”

“I see.”

“I should really be going. I have a flight to catch later tonight.” Most people that visited Wayne Manor wished to stay there forever. Or their curiosity got the best of them and their eyes took in every little detail.

But Y/N looked like she’d rather be anywhere else. And she wanted to get out as soon as she possibly could.

“Thank you again for seeing me,” she rushed out.

Without waiting for his answer, Y/N turned and started walking out of the room.

But she only got a few steps before she stopped.

Bruce watched her shoulders tense and her body move as she was clearly taking in deep breath.

Slowly, Y/N turned around to face him.

“Were you friends?”

Bruce gave her a watery smile. “She was my girlfriend in high school.”

Y/N seemed annoyed by that answer. “She never mentioned you. Not once.”

Bruce’s brow furrowed at that and his eyes zoned out as if he was revising the past in his mind. “I’m not entirely surprised. Things didn’t really end well between us.”

She nodded slowly. “Goodbye, Mr. Wayne.”

And Y/N turned and strutted out of the room without looking back.

As soon as Bruce heard her cab drive away, he ripped open the envelope and pulled out a letter.

He barely noticed that Dick had walked into the room. “May I ask…Who was the extremely attractive and tall woman that just walked out?”

But Bruce didn’t hear him as his eyes raced across the letter. His heart sped as he continued reading.

“Bruce?” Dick asked after being ignored. “Is she your next conquest or what?”

It wasn’t until Bruce was done reading the letter for the third time that he finally looked up and acknowledged Dick.

Alfred had also walked into the room, unbeknownst to Bruce.

“You OK?” Dick asked, now concerned with how silent Bruce had become.

“Master Wayne?” Alfred also urged.

“That was…my daughter,” Bruce finally muttered.

Dick blinked before his eyes grew wide in shock.

Alfred seemed less surprised, almost as if he had already put that together.

“Excuse me,” Bruce told them and exited the room.

———

Dick and Alfred must’ve warned the rest of the family not to bother Bruce in the cave. Usually he would’ve been disturbed by now.

Bruce had been at the computer for hours.

Alfred was the first person to come down, carrying a tray with dinner and tea.

The butler wasn’t surprised to find Y/N’s face all over the screens.

If Bruce had left any available information hidden before inviting Y/N to the manor, it was all out there now. Bruce knew everything about Y/F/N Y/L/N that was public knowledge – probably even some things that were not.

“You know, you did not seem all that surprised,” Bruce said to Alfred as he put the tray of food down next to him.

“Seemed rather obvious, didn’t it?”

Bruce quickly turned to look at him. “It did?”

Alfred smirked. “Her eyes,” was all he said.

“The color?”

Alfred shook his head. “As soon as she walked into the manor, they were reading me.” He tilted his head in Bruce’s direction. “Observation. Perception. Attention to detail...That is all you, Master Wayne.”

“The way she held herself,” Alfred continued, "Shoulders held back, head high, walking with purpose. No hesitation.”

“Also me?” Bruce asked.

Alfred simply nodded.  

“I don’t think she liked me very much,” Bruce sighed.

He didn’t know how he felt about that yet.

“A lot of people think you don’t like them when you first meet them,” Alfred countered. “Because I don’t trust them yet.”

Alfred raised his brows and silently ask him, ‘Don’t you see my point?’

Bruce rubbed his face and reached for the tea on the tray, ignoring all the food.

“I don’t know why you’re so entertained by this, Alfred.”

“Yes, I was entertained. I just saw a younger, female version of you, Master Wayne.”

“I abandoned her,” Bruce shot.

“You didn’t know she existed,” Alfred corrected.

“And why do you think that is?”

Alfred’s face dropped a little bit when he noticed the envelope discarded on the far end of Bruce’s desktop.

He looked down at the ground as he asked, “Might I ask what the letter said?”

Bruce glared at the letter as if touching it would burn him.

But after a moment, he grabbed it and quickly handed it to Alfred.

Bruce,

If this letter has finally reached you, it is because I have passed.

I must admit that I wrote this letter mostly in the event that I leave my daughter before she is an adult. But once Y/N turned 18, I decided to still pass this along to you.

There is no easy way to tell you this, so I will get to the point.

The young woman who delivered this letter to you is your daughter, Bruce.

Y/F/N Y/M/N Y/L/N.

When I found out I was pregnant with her, I was only 18. We had just graduated high school. You had started traveling. You called less and less. And you grew more distant – physically and emotionally. Eventually, you stopped answering my calls altogether. I left you a voicemail, only saying that I so desperately needed to talk to you, that I needed you.

But you never called me back.

With no words at all, you made it very clear that you no longer wanted anything to do with me.

But there I was, a teenager who was pregnant with our child.

I would be lying if I said I never considered terminating my pregnancy. I was scared and you broke my heart. All I wanted to do was erase you from my life.

But I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.

Once I decided what my future was going to be, I also decided that I did not want you to have any part in it.

I knew even if you pretended to play the doting father and the committed partner, you would grow tired of us eventually. You would resent me and our child for bringing you down. And you would brush us aside for yourself.

I realized I would rather Y/N have no father at all than one who would only disappoint her over and over again.

To this day, I truly believe I did the right thing for all three of us.

There are not enough words to explain the complicated woman that Y/N grew up to be. But I will try my best. I think I owe you that at least. 

Or maybe you have no interest.

I don’t know how she became so much like you, even when I never so much as showed her a picture of you or uttered your name.

She enjoys being alone – almost to her own detriment. I constantly catch her repressing her feelings, always staying strong for everyone else. It reminds me of you. She’s assertive and confident, never letting anything stand in the way of what she wants. Sometimes I don’t think she’s scared of anything. It worries me, just like it worried me when I thought the same of you.

I truly don’t know what you will do with this information.

But…if you have any desire to form some sort of relationship with her, then you should know this: she will not make it easy for you. She will push you away. And she might even hate you. I raised her to never need a man in her life, and she’ll make sure you know that.

I don’t expect anything from you. I never did.

But I would just like to know there might be someone who will be there for her should she need them.

Goodbye, Bruce.

Alfred slowly handed the letter back to Bruce when he was finished.

“I pushed her away because I knew what I was about to become,” Bruce explained darkly. “And I didn’t want her anywhere near it. She would’ve been in danger.”

“Y/N, as well,” Alfred added.

“But had I known…if I just listened to her–”

“Master Wayne, I thought we had agreed to never linger on the ‘what ifs.’”

That sure silenced Bruce.

“Now, what do you plan on doing, Master Wayne?”

———

Y/N frowned when her phone started vibrating and she recognized the name of her mom’s executor on her phone screen.

“Hello?”

“Ms. Y/L/N, how are you?”

“Fine. How are you?” She was quick, wanting to get this over with. Surely, he had bad news. Another medical bill came in or some other expense that slipped by them.

“Good, good. Just curious…have you placed any payments to our various claims?”

“Uhhh…no. But I’m working on it.”

Y/N hadn’t expected to get a call nagging about paying bills.

“No, no, no. You misunderstand. They’ve all been paid,” the executor explained.

Y/N sat up straighter in her chair. “What? That’s not possible.”

“An anonymous donor. They somehow got record of all your outstanding payments and covered all of them.”

Y/N was stunned to silence.

“Ms. Y/L/N…this is a good thing.”

She blinked and shook her head. “Right. Yes, of course. I just…thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank this guardian angel of yours.”

---------------------

Part 2

Let me know what you think!!!

[tvdoriginal]

4x20: Just Don't Be A Stranger, Okay?

Oh wow! It truly has been a while since I've done one of these. It wasn't without reason, but that's not what you're here for. After almost three days since the Legacies series finale premiered, I am finally able to sit down, watch, and write about the true beginning of the end. So, fellow witches, it is with a heavy heart that I must say for the last time, let's get into it.

We open with Ethan's funeral and Hope holding the weapon of the Gods. Finch delivered Klaus's ashes to Hope who said that she'll spread his ashes on the school grounds. They talk about Jo who hasn't been in contact with either of them.

Ric calls a meeting with the school and talks about how the mission of creating a safe space for young supernatural was not achieved. Yet another student died. Because of this, she announces that the school must close since he can't keep the promise of the mission statement (which, so true bestie but you're escaping here).

MG and Hope are against the school closing while Lizzie agrees with her father. She's tired of fighting and plans to visit Josie.

Cleo is artistically blocked and Kaleb asks her to move to Atlanta with him when he goes back home since the school is closing. She is flattered but wants to know the full story of who Kaleb is. So, he lets her into his mind to see the honest truth. However, she freaks out when she sees a beautiful future. Apparently, they are not meant to go down that path together.

"I'm willing to open my mind to you, my life to you. But only if you want it." - Kaleb

In limbo, Ethan asks Landon about just exactly where he is. Landon tries to make light of the situation but Ethan isn't having it. He doesn't want to go to peace, he wants to live again. Landon says he can't do that again; he's sure nature won't allow it. He reassures Ethan that he'll be there to help him on his path. As soon as he says that, he's gone as Hope summoned him. She needs to see her father.

"We've come a long way from milkshakes in the square." - Landon

^Cue my tears!!!

Y'ALL IT'S GIVING CRYING IN THE CLUB. As maybe most people would have guessed that Landon's cost was essentially his feelings. That's basically what the last Ferryman told him happened to her. He said he doesn't feel what he's supposed to, it feels muted and like a bruise. Hope retracts her ask of him to find Klaus because she doesn't want another part of him to be lost. She gives him a hug and he goes back to limbo. (FYI: The one thing he is sure of is that he loves her). He asks Ethan to help him find someone as Ethan called himself "rescue guy".

MG sets a meeting with Ric and Lizzie about not closing the school because of the students that need a home. MG argues that the world is not a safe place for supernaturals and that Ric is running from grief. He tells Lizzie that she still clings onto Josie instead of staying and starting something new.

THERE'S A LETTER FROM JOSIE.

Hope thanks Ric for helping her get her humanity back. When he says he doesn't get all the credit for that, she shows him the pendant that she gave Josie in season 1. Josie sent it to the Mikaelson's which is how they knew that her humanity was off. Josie doesn't need it anymore, so Hope gives it to Alaric to, as we know "make quiet things heard". Here meaning his thoughts that may be trying to break through.

"You're my pendant." - Lizzie

MS. MYSTIC FALLS SUNSHINE CAROLINE FORBES HAS RETURNED! Honestly, quite earlier than I thought she would. I thought they'd include her towards the end.

Stop, wait, omg that was such a cute Jed and Finch moment.

Landon takes Hope out to the forest and tells her that Klaus found peace. He holds her hand and instantly on the screen in front of them plays memories of her and Klaus. These moments lead to Ethan appearing on the screen. He's at peace and is being shown by a pre-recorded video. After he makes his entrance, he leaves. That's when Klaus shows up. He tells her that she'll make mistakes. She'll find love and lose it. That comes with immortality. She'll experience so many things [in her life], but the important thing is that she lives it. He ends it by saying that she is his peace. You bet that tears were shed. Also, let's get Mr. Landon Kirby his own BOYFRIEND OF THE YEAR AWARD!!! I'm being serious.

"In the Salvatore School, we fight for the things we love." - Kaleb

Kaleb tells Cleo that he's going to help her with her painting block and that no matter what the vision says, he's not going to miss out on her. They exchange "I love you"'s, kiss, and paint explodes on the canvas.

MG puts up a sign over a door that says 'Ethan Machado Memorial Hall'. RIP:(

Ric announces that the school will remain open but he will be stepping down (finally!). The new headmaster, wait no, headMISTRESS, will be Ms. Caroline Forbes(-Salvatore).

"You deserve to be known."

Hope decides to send the weapon that can kill her off to Josette. (!!!)

"Peanut butter blast. Whipped cream on the bottom." - Landon

Everyone stop. These Handon scenes really got to me and I stopped being their fan a long time ago:( I'm actually really sad that they won't be reunited after everything.

Okay, questions: Why wasn't Caroline wearing her wedding ring necklace? How do Kaleb and MG still have their supernatural abilities while Jed doesn't?

Anyways, did ya'll see Florence May King?! Ugh, love. (Candice was gonna return for season 5, but RIP to that).

I love the TVDU endlessly and it'll always be part of my heart. I'm very fortunate and grateful that I decided to start watching and that I grew with these characters and its actors. It has been a true blessing getting to see old cast members back on screen.

It breaks my heart that after 13 years, it has come to an end. Especially when there's still so much potential to explore. Unfortunately, it was time.

Thank you to everyone who made this franchise possible and for everyone who loved them and continues to love them just as hard as I do.

Always & Forever.

[court-of-forever-undone]

My Sister’s Love | Taryn POV

Chapter Three

Summary: Taryn pieces together her memories of Cardan and Jude’s early interactions as she reflects on how their relationship came to be and the events of the last year. As happy as she is for them, she can’t help but feel jealous of the moments they share.

Tags: Taryn’s POV of Jude x Cardan, Final Part

Read on AO3

After that dinner, we found Jude awake in her old rooms sitting with Tatterfell and Oak. For a moment, it was easy to pretend nothing had happened. She wore one of the black gowns she favored since becoming seneschal and was eating from a tray in front of her. But as she turned to face us, the wince she failed to hide and the paleness of her skin were reminders that she had nearly died just days ago. Her hair had been braided to mimic a crown, which was another reminder that my sister was not the same twin I had known.

Before we had a chance to talk, Cardan appeared. He likely came straight from his rooms, after finding them empty. Every fiber of my being wanted to grab Jude’s arm when Cardan asked her to join him, but I saw the dusting of pink spread across her cheeks as she saw him in the doorway, so I stood there silently. Jude would have probably ignored any word of caution coming from me anyways. We still had yet to fully come to terms with everything that happened between us.

When it had been hours and Jude had yet to return, I went to the royal chambers to see if she had gone straight there, but instead, I found Garrett.

While Jude had at least recovered some from her near-death experience, Garrett looked like the ghost of the beautiful sandy-haired boy I had met before. It might have been a funny observation given his code name, but all humor was lost in the moment. He had lost weight and his face had sunken in. When our eyes met, I saw the plea in them before he opened his mouth.

The next few hours were a blur. When Jude finally arrived at Hollow Hall, I was surprised to see she had allowed Cardan to come along. Cardan had proved he would follow my sister into the heart of an enemy war camp, despite better judgment, but this time Jude had chosen to invite him along with her.

After I commanded Garrett to stop, cursing myself for not thinking to do it earlier, we moved to a parlor room and I explained how we had come to know each other through Locke’s carelessness.

We discussed the events of what Garrett had done at Locke and Madoc’s command. It turned out that Garrett had been the one to shoot Queen Orglah. Even if he had been commanded to do it, Nicasia and the seafolk would see him as a traitor and demand that he be punished, which meant his life was entirely at the mercy of Jude and Cardan. I couldn’t help but see the resemblance to my own situation.

When Cardan made a comment about me lurking around the palace, I revealed that I had no intention of going anywhere until I knew that Jude would be safe. Our relationship may be strained, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t make up for my actions.

Cardan wore an expression that showed he was tired of this conversation. “Jude and I had a misunderstanding. But we’re not enemies. And I am not your enemy, either, Taryn.”

As a faerie, I knew he couldn’t lie, but that didn’t matter. Maybe he didn’t think of us as enemies, he could still think of us as toys.

“But you think everything’s a game. You and Locke.” His name tasted like ash in my mouth.

“Unlike Locke, I never thought love was a game. You may accuse me of much, but not that.” Cardan shared softly.

The air in the room shifted as Cardan's gaze fell upon Jude, who refused to even look in his direction before quickly changing the subject.

For the first time, it was not just me who was drawing a comparison between our loves. While Cardan’s words came out more as a confession to Jude than a taunt at me, the words still stung. Locke had thought love to be a game. But Cardan, the cruel, spoiled prince did not think love was a game.

How had I believed Locke was my future?

In the carriage back to the palace, Cardan broke the silence by asking about some of the things he had seen on his way to Vivi’s apartment. Most of his questions were about the dishwasher which had been running in the apartment, how mortal mailboxes worked, how secure they were in protecting incoming mail, and what slushies tasted like.

By the end of the ride, I couldn’t help but laugh at his questions which seemed so trivial given the circumstances we all found ourselves in. When we were alone I turned to Jude, who was barely awake on her feet.

“Do you trust him?” I asked. It was the question that had been gnawing at me since our return.

Jude thought for a moment before sighing. “Sometimes,” she responded.

It was enough to make me warn her. Did I think Cardan loved her? Yes. But was Cardan trustworthy? It was hard to forget the years of our childhood together that suggested otherwise and if Jude who had gotten to know him closer than any of the rest of us questioned it, then it was probably best not to.

I had been blinded by my love for Locke that I trusted him to take care of me. I didn’t want the same to happen to Jude, even if seeing them care for each other made my heart ache with envy.

____________________________________________________________

In the days leading up to Madoc’s arrival, all of Elfhame seemed to be on alert; waiting for something to happen. Whispers that bordered on treason could be heard on the grounds and it seemed that everyone had begun placing bets on the outcome of the meeting. It seemed that many of the Folk had questions around the legitimacy of a human queen and the chance the High King’s army stood against a Redcap led army.

Madoc would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. Vivi, Jude, and I all knew that. I did not have to attend strategy meetings to know they were facing a serious threat.

Amidst the preparations for possible battle, the whole castle seemed to note the change in the High King and Queen’s dynamic. For one, their marriage was now common knowledge, but more than that there was a closeness between them that had never been there before.

At first, it was not-so-secret handholding and shared looks at mealtimes. Once at dinner, Cardan made a joke about the dangers of in-laws and Jude rolled her eyes before letting a real smile show.

Then, rumors began to spread that a servant had walked into the royal chambers to replace the bedding and apparently caught the two in a compromising position even though they were supposed to be in a war meeting.

I was doubtful when I first heard, but I even overheard some council members complaining about how they missed when the two bickered all meetings instead of ditching meetings to sneak off together.

The new development had only lasted a matter of days, so I hadn’t figured out if it stemmed from a need for distraction given the impending situation or if the two had formed a more intimate relationship since Jude’s return to health.

The look of devastation on Jude’s face after Cardan transformed suggested that whatever their relationship entailed, Jude had begun to share feelings for him that went beyond hate or tolerance.

When Cardan snapped the blood crown, the air turned stale and the ground hardened. I couldn’t tear my eyes off of Cardan, as his body seemed to melt and twist into the monstrous snake.

The ground shook as the snake moved through the room headed straight for the sword maker. By the time Grimsen was swallowed, I was being pushed deeper into the castle by the flow of the crowd desperate to get to safety. I only got a glimpse of the horror on Jude’s face before she was completely out of sight.

By the time I finally saw her later, I saw the tear stains on her cheeks and the exhaustion behind her eyes. I wondered if she was mourning Cardan or perhaps she was coming to terms with her own future. If Cardan could not be saved, Jude would likely not last long on the throne. The lower courts might seize the chance or the undersea would. That is if our father didn’t dethrone her first.

For the first time in months, I thought I might be able to understand her again. Like me, her husband gave her a level of security that was uncommon for a human in Faerie. While Jude may try to say her motivations for marrying Cardan were different from me marrying Locke, I don’t think they were. They were both motivated by power and protection.

I married Locke for protection in Elfhame. My position as his wife also gave me a degree of power I never had before. Jude married Cardan to become High Queen. She could have become the most powerful knight alive and still not have been afforded the same level of protection she has as Cardan’s queen. While we may have had different expectations for our marriages, both were strategic.

Madoc taught us that it is harder to hold onto power than it is to gain it. It is even harder to hold on when it is just you. Together, she and Cardan had a chance at maintaining the throne, but alone the chances were slim.

I may have lost almost every privilege I had as Locke’s wife, but Jude had a lot more to lose without Cardan; including her life.

In his absence, the happiness that Jude showed disappeared entirely. When she wasn’t in meetings, she could be found in the destroyed throne room and truly seemed to mourn him.

I recognized some of her pain, though her situation was different of course. I knew what it was like to feel the suffocating sense of loneliness. After all, I had gone months without hearing from my sisters or my parents, all while stuck in a relationship that was on tilted ground from the start.

I knew the pain of losing a partner. Locke died by my hand, but it did not stop the mixed emotions that came after. In the instant I decided to act, I lost any promise of a safe future in Elfhame.

We both knew what it was like to be humans in Faerieland; powerless to watch as the monsters closed in from all sides. In a land where the food, wine, a dance, and a simple conversation could be disastrous, only she and I could truly understand the deep fear that every day brought.

When the day came to bridle the snake, my sister looked magnificent, powerful even. She looked every bit the part of High Queen. But behind her cold, fierce look, I noted the inner turmoil that plagued her.

No one had any ideas on how to save the High King. Therefore, her future came down to if she would decide to wield the snake as a weapon or not. With the serpent, Jude would have had a chance to hold her position on the throne. Without Cardan, she would likely lose everything.

If power was the only thing she wanted, it would have been a simple choice. Jude would have found the snake and ruled as the murderous queen that some fae refer to her as, for as long as she could. She hesitated though. After she dressed in Mab’s armor, she paced back and forth while she chewed her bottom lip, as she does when she is nervous or thinking. She didn’t know what she was going to do.

It was that morning that it became obvious that my sister had loved Cardan back. It was more than lust or a political arrangement. They both could claim their marriage had been strategic, and it might have started that way, but there was love between them. A love that kept her from using Cardan as a weapon.

They played their games and hurt one another, but when the other was in danger they shared the same look of desperate determination to save them. The look on Jude’s face was the same as Cardan’s when he came to Vivi’s apartment; desperate, sad, and determined.

____________________________________________________________

When Jude returned with a naked, bloody, Cardan I could not believe it. The impossible had happened.

Within a matter of hours, the palace managed to throw a feast in honor of the High King returning. I dressed quickly and made my way to join in the celebration with my siblings and Heather. Tatterfell told us that Jude would join us shortly.

At the height of the party, I spotted a familiar face trying to keep out of sight near the edge of the room. I left my spot near the musicians table and made my way towards him.

“Hello Garrett,” I said as I stopped next to him, taking in the room from his angle. Vivi, Heather, and Oak were still eating at one of the long tables. The crowd parted suddenly, so it was easy to spot Jude and Cardan as they made their way to the dancefloor.

“Taryn,” he replied with a smile.

Neither of us spoke for a moment as the kitchen servants brought out more desserts with a level of fanfare that matched the king that was being celebrated.

“Are you on king and queen duty this evening?” I asked with a nod to the direction of the dance floor.

Garrett shook his head and laughed, “Technically, I am always responsible for their safety, but I sense that the king and queen don’t wish to be followed.”

I looked back only to notice Cardan leading Jude behind the dais and out of sight.

“Then, perhaps you would like to dance?” The words slipped out before I could reason why it was a silly idea. Before I could regret my words, he offered a soft smile before extending his hand.

I let him sweep me onto the dance floor, trusting him to stop me before my feet wear out. I don’t know if it was the way his face lit up when he laughed, or because he is a member of my sister’s court of spies, or because I could command him at any time (not that I ever intend on using his name), but as we twirled and laughed together, I felt safe.

The feeling was a bit ridiculous. My future was still entirely unknown. I had a baby growing inside me, still needed to stand trial, and had no way to support myself.

Technically, both Garrett and I had committed crimes punishable by death, but at least for the evening, I was happy to share the space with him.

We stayed on the dance floor together until the sun streaked in through the windows.

____________________________________________________________

On the day of the tribunal, I could not help but tremble slightly. Cardan’s promise floated in my head, but I would never fully believe it until I was officially declared innocent. I could not believe that Jude would punish me too harshly. After all, she hated Locke for what he did, so I couldn’t imagine she was upset by my actions. At the same time, she also hated me for what I did, so it was hard to guess her thoughts.

I took my time getting ready until it was finally time to make my way to the throne room. I quietly entered and found my spot in the crowd before glancing up at the dais.

Together they sat. Two enemies who had somehow fallen in love. They had risen together through everything that had happened.

Jude made Cardan into a respectable king and Cardan made Jude queen so no one could overlook her power again.

Cardan invited me forward and in a clear voice, he granted me everything he promised. I was innocent and my child and I would inherit Locke’s titles.

I walked back to my seat and felt the weight of the last few months fall off of my shoulders.

With the ruling, I let myself imagine my future; something I had not done since the night I drove the letter opener plunge into Locke’s neck.

I had made regrettable choices in the past, but I had been given a fresh start.

I had hated the way my sisters had loving relationships, but now it was what I hope to find for myself.

I want a love that is more than security or protection or fun. I want to be with someone who encourages me to be more.

I am not in a rush to find love again. I have my child to raise, my relationships to repair, but if my sister’s love taught me anything, it is that love can happen in the most unlikely of places with the most unlikely of people.

[jabbagabba]

La La Land

Read Prologue

Warning ⚠️

Triggering subjects: disassociation, manipulation, mind control, grief. (READ AT OWN RISK)

Wandavision: spoilers (up to episode 6 - just to be safe), violence

———

Pools Of Despair

You weren’t sure how long it’d been, the drive feeling as though it had taken a lifetime. It might have been just down the road and you wouldn’t have been able to tell; time seemed to move torturously slow under Wanda’s control.

She tried to keep herself calm besides your frozen body, already thinking of a way out as she turned the steering wheel. But it was too late to go back.

‘No other way. No other way.’ The words replayed over and over in her head as she finally made it to the front of the building, and it was the first time she fully looked at you. Your face was stoic, the only sign of life being the soft breaths escaping your mouth. You couldn’t look at her - even if you wanted to - and as she reached a hand to your face, the feeling of complete numbness returned.

During the drive there had been small moments of clarity; moments where for the first time you felt in control. It was almost euphoric being able to push through the fog.

But then, as quickly as it had subsided, she would crawl her way back in.

Even now as she turned you toward her fully, you tried to swim through the heaviness, but the black swirls of grief and anguish just got tighter the harder you fought.

Wanda sighed in annoyance. “You can’t go in looking like that.” She pulled at a strand of her hair with a small huff. “Need glasses.”

You were sure if you had control of your body, the pain of your neck would be unbearable, the awkward angle surely making every muscle strain as you were forced to watch her pull apart the car.

This had to have been owned by the only man on the planet that didn’t carry sunglasses in their car. Wanda almost laughed, a punishment for stealing it? She couldn’t be sure.

“Well...” Wanda pulled the blue and white baseball cap by the brim from under her seat. “Better then nothing.” She gave a small smile as she adjusted it on your head, pulling back and grabbing your hand and letting it rest in her lap. “If there was any other way, I swear, I would let you go. But... I just... I can’t live without him.”

You said nothing as she cried.

———

“Head down, get Vision. Leave.” Her voice plagued your every step, each word carved into your brain as you finally reached the front desk.

‘Sword’ was a nice place - or at least had nice flooring - and from the bright light that filled each and every inch of the glossy tile, you knew there had to be a lot of glass. It was a government building after all.

“Can I help you?” Her voice is chirpy, a polite smile painted on her lips, you don’t need to see her eyes to know it wasn’t anything but genuine. She lets the wheels of her chair carry her forward, her computer forgotten besides her as you near the desk.

“Do you have... a meeting?” She smiles again, more forced and you’re able to see the golden pin on her chest that proudly says ‘Mary’ and try once more to float above the darkness.

“I -“ The word leaves your lips aprubtly and the fight drains from you just as fast. “I’m here to inquire about some of my father’s equipment. I’d like it back.” You let the darkness swallow you whole.

“And who are you again?” Mary is quick to pull her deskphone to her ear, hand hovering over the numbers.

———

The name that fell from her lips made Mary freeze. She looked up with wide eyes, both fearful and exited.

Starks were top priority at ‘SWORD’ - she was sure they were top priority everywhere - and as she desperately tried to recall if her boss mentioned anything about Stark equipment, the girl’s patients quickly wore thin.

“Can you please just tell me where to go? I have a long drive ahead of me.” Her voice was a sharp contrast from her apparance. The girl’s voice was stern and loud while her body was scrunched in on itself, eyes glued to the desk. Mary took a glance over the desk and saw the dark fabric of a dress, the hat didn’t even match the girl’s shoes.

“Right.” Mary said. “I’m sorry, just a little... starstruck.” She tried to keep her cool, turning again in her chair and started typing as fast as possible on her little keyboard. The atmosphere was thick with uncomfortable silence and Mary had to make sure not to shiver in the girl’s presence. She scrolled down the list of names and let out a small “ah” when she found your name. Just as quickly as she clicked on it, a pop up window filled the screen

STARK - Access Denined. Call Security

She felt sick; her nerves making her skin pucker as she tried to keep calm. When Mary finally found the courage to move, bile reached through her throat as she saw red eyes looking back.

“Ahh!” Mary was quick to jump out of her chair.

“Fine.” The girl sighed, hand flat on the counter as she took long strides around it. “If you won’t help me.” A red trail flowed through one of the doors; slithering like a snake as it wrapped around the shell shocked receptionist. “I’ll do it myself.”

———

Wanda’s mind had warped, grief and anger become one as she ripped through each and every room of the building. No one was safe from the witch’s wrath as she swung them through various glass panels and equipment. By the third turn she took, guards had given up, opting to instead try desperately to get out of her way.

She had left you at the desk, too transfixed to care and as she heard the various shouts of alarm from down the hallway, she was glad you weren’t in her way.

———

The group of four man were shocked; watching as the two guards dropped their guns and put their hands up for mercy.

“We’ll give you what you want. Please!” One of them - Felix - cried as the woman barreled through the double doors.

Wanda simply flicked her hand and he was sent flying to a wall, his partner following.

“Where is he?” Her accent was thick and the youngest tech almost asked her to repeat herself. “Where is Vision?” The stunned silence only fueled her anger. “You.” Red swirled under one of the men’s feet and lifted him from the ground. “Where?”

If the man could have, he’d be shivering in fear right about now. His life was in the hands of a deranged woman who with a simple flick of her wrist could send him plummeting down ten floors.

Wanda tightened her hold on him in warning and he knew he had to speak.

“Behind us.” He said. “There is a set of double doors, turn left and there’s an examination room.”

“He should be there!” A colleague on his left was shaking as she turn to face him. “He’s not lying.” Wanda let her power swim under him once more beofre gently letting him go.

“Thank you.” She gave a small smile. “Now, go.”

They didn’t have to be told twice.

———

Wanda felt as though she couldn’t breathe, the sight of her dead lover on the table was crippling. Vision was a dark grey; his eyes blank as they stared into her. If it wasn’t for the table itself she would have probably collapsed on to the floor as sobs took over her.

“I cant. I can’t. I -“ The words fell from her lips like a mystical chant. She couldn’t look at him anymore, his body was nothing but an empty shell of parts.

When her body turned to ash; Wanda was ready to die, her last shred of humanity died with Vision. The battlefield would be her final resting place. She chose to spend her last moments hoping that If there was a God that they’d be merciful, that she’d be allowed to spent her afterlife in blissful ignorance.

But instead she woke up.

Five years had passed and she was still there, only now she was alone. It was only after the death of Tony Stark that she let the floodgate of loss fill up her veins. While Thanos was alive, she had a mission; kill him and reverse the snap.

Wanda never imagined the pain that followed. She should have died that day, why couldn’t she have died that day?

Grief had a knack for turning the strongest people into helpless pools of despair.

Vision deserved better. That was what go her up, got her to calm her tears and push herself up. She wasn’t going to let them win. Vision was hers to mourn, to love, and hers to take care of.

She had a new mission, one that was stronger then her need to submit to pain.

But... she needed help carrying him.

———

Your body moved through the halls, following the tethered rope of energy that wrapped around your waist. If it wasn’t for your boots, your feet would have been covered in cuts from the sharp edges of the broken glass that filled the hallways.

The fog had cleared more then before and if you tried hard enough, you might’ve even been able to pull free completely. Wanda was exhausted and the fight had been ripped from you So you let her pull you, let the fog seep through every inch of you.

And as you entered the small room, you forgot you were suppose to care anymore.

“I need you to hold onto his legs.” She said softly, hand stroking his cheek. “Easier to carry both of you.” Your body moved again and you placed a gentle hand onto vision’s ankle.

Wanda wiped the last of her tears away, grabbed onto his arm, and all three of you were lifted off the ground.

———

Hot air blew through Wanda’s hair making her hands continuously push back strands from her face as she walked. The afternoon sun was unrelenting and she had to take several short breaks.

The car was too dangerous to return to - a swarm of agents was not something she wanted to deal with - and controlling someone for almost 24 hour straight took a lot out of her. Her hold on you was weak enough for you to sometimes fully take over, her control turning into a dull ache at the back of your brain.

As she walked in front of you thoughts of running flooded through your brain but the walking had tired your body out, and you were sure that if her little pushes weren’t there, you’d have already collapsed. Even if you had the strength to do it, the empty roads had long ago turned into tall trees and bush. You were in the middle of nowhere and getting loss in the woods with a heartbroken witch was not something you wanted to deal with. So, like a trained puppy, you followed silently behind Vision’s dragging body. It wasn’t hard to keep up, she was as slow as she could be while Vision’s body left a dirt trail.

“Break.” Wanda breathed. Who knew an empty little spot of grass would be so inviting? “Sit.” You felt a small push and follow it down to the ground. You let your fingers grip the direr under them, the cool breeze making you sigh.

“Where-“ The sound of your voice startled both of you but she stayed still. “Where are we going?”

She said nothing, choosing to instead turn on her knees and pull Vision forward by the arms.

“When I was little-“ Wanda smiled to herself as she stared down at Vision. “- I use to dream about this field. Me and Peitro went past it everyday during the summer. It had all these small flowers growing.” You listen intently as she giggles, eyes losing focus as she is hit with the memory. “I always tried to sneak past the fence... but, I was alway stopped by someone.” Her mouth twitches and you feel the pulsing return in your neck. “It’s probably nothing but dirt now, like everything.”

“Where are we going, Wanda?” You try to keep your voice soft, afraid of ruining the small moment as you reached out for her but she was quick to stop you, hand glowing red and inches away from your face.

“Don’t.” She warns. You nod in silent apology.

“We’re not far from a road.” Wanda let’s her hand fall back to her side. “I want you go and call whoever you need to.” You’re almost startled when her control leaves fully from your body, it almost feels empty. “Tell them what I did, or don’t, I don’t care. I have what I want.”

“Wanda -“

“Please.” The crack in her voice makes tears pool in your eyes. “Just go.”

You stand on shaking legs. The world was spinning and you felt as though you had just gotten off a rollercoaster but you tried to steady yourself. Unsure of where to go, you turn to her once more for guidance and she simply points behind you.

Your conscious wouldn’t let you leave. Wanda was tired and you were afraid of leaving her alone. Regardless of what she did; you knew you couldn’t blame her, she had lost everyone.

In a way, so did you.

“I’m sorry about Vision.” Wanda looked up again and gave you a small nod. “About Pietro, about everyone. I wish it was different.”

“Me too, Stark.” She let her fingers wrap around your hand and squeezed. The warmth from the dock returned and you couldn’t help but give her a small grin of gratitude. “I meant what I said at the funeral.”

Both of you were so wrapped up in your own little bubble, you didn’t even question why the birds stopped.

————

Tag list (open, just ask)

@white-wolf-buckaroo @y-napotat

All my stuff is open, and I’m always happy to hear from people so feel free to let me know what ya thought. I always get stuck halfway through writing but I hope it wasn’t too hard to read.

Next chapter will be fun.

[emelywrites]

Hi there! Could you write a fic about Diego and the Little Hargreeves? After being basically raised by Diego, she is very close to him, right? I think it would be interesting to see how their father’s funeral happens with them there. Cuz their other siblings barely got to know her, but Diego is more a father figure to her than Reggie ever was, and how she would stand by Diego in everything and showing how much they love each other and rely on one another (he would be so overprotective for sure)

Oh my god, I’m so sorry I took several months to get back to this but honestly I didn’t know where to begin. Now, these past few days I’ve been writing this, and I hope you enjoy. 

(For more parts see my Masterlist)

We Only See Each Other At Weddings And Funerals

Reginald Hargreeves was dead. You, 25 years old, far away from home, trying to stand on your own two feet, could not really care any less. You hadn’t seen your father since you and Diego had gone away from home. After you had graduated you went on to college across the country and now, deep in student’s debt and having just started to work, you truly did resent him.

What does one have an eccentric billionaire of a distant father for if not to pay one’s student debt? When you heard about it on the news one night you called Diego.

“Maybe there’s something in the will for you. God knows, you need it, Little”, he said.

“And to whom would he give something in his will? ‘The other child’? ‘The seven called her Little or something’?”, you wondered while putting some strong alcohol in your cart.

“And even if there isn’t. If you’re there we can discuss what you get. I don’t wanna go either but it feels like I truly have to”, he argued, “I think I’ll need you there, too.”

You sighed. He knew you couldn’t say no to him. He had raised you and that weighed quite heavily as an argument. “Fine. But I’m out the second someone asks who the hell I am and what the hell I want.”

That night you got quite tipsy and went to bed early because your drunk brain wouldn’t let you stay up. The next day at work you organised for a week off so you could go home for “a loved one’s funeral”, trying not to gag while you said that. 

On the train ride to The City you contemplated all the different scenarios that could play out. But nothing came to mind, really. Honestly, you didn’t even know what the others looked like. Diego and you tried to see each other as often as possible, so at least you were excited to see him. When you got off the train, he was waiting for you on the platform. You smiled brightly and ran into his arms, the duffle bag on your back slowing you down slightly and hopping around.

After you’d hugged for a little while he pulled back and took your bag. “Have you seen anyone yet?”, you asked on your way to the car.

“Well, yeah, I saw Klaus a while ago when I got him back into rehab. Not too excited about the rest”, he mumbled.

“I mean, Alison’s last film was pretty good apparently. I couldn’t go see it but I heard good things about it. It’s always great to hear “Hey, are you related to that actress? Cause you, like, have the same name and stuff.””, you laughed.

“Oh, and you know The Times’ alright selling author, Vanya, of course”, he rolled his eyes.

“You know, I think she was right. She was treated awfully, and so was I.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t write a book about it, for everyone to see, without even asking if we were okay with it.”

“Well, you wouldn’t have been alright with it.”

“Exactly my point”, he threw the bag in the backseat while you got in on the passenger’s side.

“Let her be, Diego. She’s been through enough, she doesn’t need us beating her up over living her life the way she wants to.”

He just rolled his eyes and then you proceeded to spend the rest of the car ride talking about your siblings and what had gone on in your lives while you didn’t see each other. When he parked the car next to your childhood home you looked at it with dread.

“Damn, this is what I took a week off for?”, you asked quietly, as if Dad could hear you if you spoke up.

Diego laughed. “Pretend you took the week off to see me.” You both smiled at that and got out of the car.

You took your own bag again and you entered the house. Pogo greeted you at the door.

“Oh, Master Diego, how nice to see you. Miss Hargreeves, I wasn’t expecting you.”

You gave him a short half smile and wrapped your hand around Diego’s wrist, trying to tell him that you didn’t want to make conversation and just get it over with.

“Nice to see you, too, Pogo. (Y/N) and I thought it’d be nice if she came along because she’s his daughter, too, you know. More than any of us, really”, Diego grumbled, obviously disappointed that you weren’t wanted.

“(Y/N)?”, Pogo asked, “That’s a very nice name, Miss Hargreeves.”

“Thank you. Diego came up with it after we moved out. Most people in the world outside this house have normal names”, you said.

You stood in awkward silence for a couple moments until Diego and Pogo nodded in a silent goodbye and you took off to explore the rest of the house.

“It hasn’t changed at all.”

Later that day all six of you stood in the courtyard, along with Grace and Pogo. Luther dumped the ashes while you stood next to Diego, his arm wrapped around you in a protective manner. You raised an eyebrow and let out a mocking snort when you looked at the pile of ashes on the ground, slowly getting soaked in the rain.

“You have anything to say, Little?”, Luther said with a raised eyebrow.

“No”, you said quickly.

Diego looked at you, who was looking at the ground, a smile that was trying to suppress a laugh on your face. The corner of his mouth twitched as he also tried to suppress his smile.

“You think it’s funny? Really? Dad died. Why are you even here?”, Luther asked you as he stepped closer.

“Hey, leave her alone, man”, Diego said.

“No, he’s right, it is funny”, you interrupted, “Look at that. It’s a pathetic pile of dust, that’s all he is now. That’s basically how he treated me my entire life, kind of ironic, huh?”

Alison snorted and Vanya’s lips twitched into a smile, before it immediately disappeared again.

“I’m here because I’m his daughter, too. Honestly, I’m hoping to pay off my student debt with a tiny piece of inheritance that I might not even receive because he forgot I existed. Some of my friends told me that their parents paid for their tuition, isn’t that crazy? And all my friends told me that their parents noticed them growing up. Anyway, I’m gonna get out of the Umbrella Academy’s hair. I was right, I shouldn’t have come.”

You turned to leave when Diego pulled you back. “You’re right. You have a right to be here just as much as the rest of us. Leave her alone, Luther. That’s my sister you’re attacking.”

“Boys, we don’t need a fight today or any day, really”, Alison tried to step up.

“This isn’t about you, this is about Little here, trying to sneak her way back in when it’s convenient.”

“It’s (Y/N) now, actually. And we’re all doing just that right now. We all left as soon as we could. You can’t fucking blame her for existing”, Diego shoved Luther, “Just because you stayed Daddy’s little boy doesn’t mean the rest of us didn’t grow up.”

Luther glared at Diego and then lunged at him. Everyone tried to do something about the two of them fighting but of course they never stopped until they knocked over Ben’s statue. I tightly grabbed Diego’s hand with a frown on my face and my eyebrows drawn together. Luther glared at us and then stomped off. The rest of us followed shortly thereafter.

This had been a bad idea.

[rubysunnday]

Dear Mother,

A/N: Inspired by the post about what Mrs Shelby’s name is. It’s also inspired by my first ever fic on here, The Letters, since it’s almost been a year since I posted it. 

Her name had become a taboo. No one dared to mention the same of Mrs Shelby - the woman who’d thrown herself into the Cut because she went out of her mind. It was always “Mrs Shelby” or “the Shelby’s mother”. 

Her name had died with her. She didn’t even have her name on the grave. Just mother. 

Y/N Shelby didn’t even know her mother’s name. It was nowhere to be seen within the walls of the house and there was no record of it in any photo album or bundle of letters. 

She was a ghost - a nameless whisper on the wind. 

Y/N never asked about her mother’s name. Her brothers had told her she’d died from an illness - slowly wasted away before their eyes until she was no more. It was the truth, in a way. Her mind had give up and her body had followed not long after. 

She’d thrown herself into the Cut and had sunk to the bottom - like Ophelia when her lover had murdered her father. Left behind was an already broken and bruised family who’s eldest members were about to go to war. 

Y/N didn’t remember her mother. She didn’t remember the screaming, the crying, Tommy trying to shield her, Finn and Ada from their mother as she went out of her mind. 

Committing suicide was no way to go. A mother committing suicide was another thing entirely. How could she be so selfish and abandon her children? 

That was were the fear and suspicion of the Shelby’s had begun. All because of their mother. And they used it to their advantage, quickly becoming the most feared and respected family in Birmingham.

But no child should have had to grow up hearing whispered secrets about their mother and how it wouldn’t be long before the children followed her into the cold, icy depths of the Cut.

Y/N Shelby had no mother. Polly tried her best but she was never a maternal person - the loss of her children had damaged her beyond repair - and Y/N missed the nurturing nature mother’s apparently had. 

She didn’t remember her mother. There were pictures of her in Tommy’s house - of her with John, Arthur, Tommy and Ada. She looked beautiful - like a Hollywood movie superstar. She was picture perfect, smiling at the camera with a loving hand on John’s shoulder and her arm around Arthur’s waist. 

It was a snapshot of a forgotten time - before the demons invaded her mind and ripped her soul from her mind. And it wasn’t a true snapshot, not really. She’d suffered with the demons for years before that image, but it only got worse.

But Y/N took that image of her mother - looking perfect and like a porcelain doll. And she wrote her a letter. She introduced herself, told her what she looked liked and what her favourite things were and put it in her desk draw.

For the next twelve months, Y/N wrote a letter to her mother every day. She poured her heart and soul out to this invisible woman who’s name no longer existed and who’s image was frozen in a dusty photo on her brother’s desk.

8th April, 1923

Dear Mother,

I turned nineteen today, Nothing spectacular happened - I had a nice meal out with Ada and went riding with John and Arthur. Tommy vanished off to London - again - and I didn’t see him all day. Not quite sure what I’ve done to piss him off but, alas. 

Polly gave me your necklace today The string of pearls you bought with the first bit of money Arthur made. I’m wearing them, and your engagement ring, as I write this. I look like a proper lady with my new dress on...

It’s been sixteen years since I last saw you. I’m doing alright without you but it’s hard. I see Ada with Karl and Polly with Michael and my heart aches for that. But i know I can never have it and will never have it. 

I hope you’re alright, wherever you are, mother.

All my love,

Your ever loving daughter, Y/N x

As the days and the weeks went by, the bundle of letters got bigger and more tattered. She told no one about her little ritual - she knew they wouldn’t approve. Her family never dared mention their mother for fear of bringing about a curse.

Y/N was never that superstitious. No curses existed - it was just poor luck and death threats. 

1st August, 1923

Dear Mother,

I feel like I’ve almost caught you up on the past sixteen years. The Great War, Tommy’s wedding, both of John’s weddings and his gaggle of small humans he calls children. There’s almost nothing else to say to you.

Not that you’re actually here, that is. I doubt you were ever really here.

I wrote my brothers letter when they were in France. That was different, though, because they wrote back and sent me little things. I still have the violet John sent me from the Somme. 

I have all your things. No one else wanted them - they say they’re cursed or some shit like that. I was never that superstitious, it’s just life attempting to play God. No one has a say on who gets to be a survivor and who gets to be a martyr. 

I like to think of you as Ophelia. She sang to herself as she drowned, oblivious to her death. I hope you were like that, finally at peace with yourself as you floated down the Cut with the fallen flowers and leaves around you like a halo. 

There’s me trying to romanticise your death. No one even mentions you by name so forgive me for trying to make you seem more alive than apparently you are.

Well, you’re not alive are you. You’re dead. 

You have a grave. It’s up on the hill by the old tree that was used for hangings back in the day. Near Tom’s house. It’s an alright spot, I suppose. Nothing special. No one ever visits you, however. Your name isn’t even on the pebble someone put there as a marker.

We couldn’t afford a headstone. We can now but Tommy would murder me if he knew I did that. He hates talking about you.

No one ever tells me about you. All I have are a few photos that are practically falling apart and your clothes and jewellery. 

Anyway, I need to go. Family meeting and all that shit.

Your ever loving daughter,

Y/N x

By the time Christmas came, Y/N’s desk drawer was full of letters to her non-existent mother. Each letter was bundled together by month with colour coordinated ribbons for each month. February was purple, September orange and so on. 

She’d told her mother everything she’d ever wanted to. Her first kiss, her first love, her first break up, the time she got shot, the numerous times she almost died. 

She had no need to tell her anything anymore. Her mother felt so much more real to her now than she ever had before. 

She made her decision on Christmas Day evening. Everyone else was inside Arrow House watching the children open their last few presents and drink the remaining of the wine and whiskey. 

Y/N slipped outside, grabbed her horse, and rode up to the hill were the old hanging tree had once been. Her mother’s grave sat to the left of the tree - a tiny mound of earth with a pebble as its only marker. Y/N dismounted from her horse and approached the grave, clenching the letters tightly.

Twelve bundles. Almost 365 letters. 

Y/N found some twigs and branches and made a small fire at the foot of the grave. A moment later it roared into life and crackled away, casting an orange glow over her face.

She spread Tommy’s coat out on the ground and sat down, cross-legged, in front of the fire, clutching the letters. For once, she wasn’t wearing a dress belonging to her mother. Instead it was a mismatch of her brother’s old trousers, shirts and waistcoats. 

She started with the first of January. 

Y/N untied the ribbon and pulled out the first letter, the date neatly scrawled on the top left of the envelope. She read it through once, flipped it over to look at the address and then put it on the fire.

The paper curled as it burnt away, the writing fading into nothing but ash and sparks. 

The second of January followed suit before the first of January had even finished burning. 

Each letter curled and burned in the fire, the words and the sentiments becoming nothing more than ash. 

Fifteenth of February quickly followed the fourteenth. 

Twenty-eighth of April was followed by the twenty-ninth. 

Each and every letter was add to the fire until she was only left with one. 

25th December, 1923

Dear Mother,

I’ve told you everything. 

There’s nothing left to say, now. I’ve spilled my darkest secrets and untold stories to you. 

I’ve moved on, now. I still wish I had you around but I’m coping with it. I wish you were more than just words and pictures and jewellery. But nothing is fair. 

I’ve burnt all the letters and I hope the words reach you. I hope their spirit and their meaning reach you and reassure you that your daughter is doing fine. 

You used to be mine but now you belong to the world.

I only wish I’d learnt your name.

All my love

Your ever grateful and loving daughter,

Y/N Miriam Shelby

[magicofsimplestories]

Supernatural 2.0: #20 Learning by doing

[Back to Foreword and #1 Meet Kira or #19 A new Job]

The archive of Evergreen Harbor was located at the renovated community center on the boardwalk. Dean and Kira (thanks to their fake fed badges, of course) spent the whole morning digging up information on the quarry. 

There wasn’t much though. The quarry was built in the beginning of the previous century. The founder of the quarry (aka the father of Evergreen Harbor, as the media tagged him) Arnold Grims apparently was a responsible employer, a great entrepreneur, a workaholic, a wonderful family man and a loving husband - crystals clean, as Dean has put it.

Grims died inside the quarry building. The cause of his unexpected death, as the coroner claimed, was a heart attack. He was 65, so a heart attack sounded more than realistic. His family cremated the body and buried his ashes in the family mausoleum at the local cemetery. 

“It seems like Grims’ death wasn’t violent”, concluded Kira closing the documents. 

“Moreover, he’s cremated”, nodded Dean. “Can’t be him”

“It shouldn’t”, corrected him Kira. “However, it still might be him. Firstly, we can’t be sure Grims’ soul has actually made it to the other world. Secondly, there might be something left of him that wasn’t cremated. Thirdly, we have someone third with special powers over dead souls”

Dean exhaled. Kira could clearly see his struggle to make a decision that he apparently didn’t like. He exhaled again before speaking. 

“I know that you’ve already figured out that I don’t like it”, said Dean watching Kira’s mouth corners jump up in a short smile. “But I have to admit that we will need to pay the quarry a visit tonight. It seems like learning by doing is our only option”

“I’m fine with that”, Kira shrugged her shoulders. 

“Well, I’m not”, grumbled Dean. “Can you shoot?” He asked leaning closer to Kira and lowering his voice. 

She shook her head negatively. He exhaled again. 

“I’ll teach you”, he said getting up from his chair. “Come, I saw a waste-land next to our apartment building. We will practise there”

Dean’s car was parked next to the local night club. They were about to get into the car when they heard laughter and a girl’s voice exclaimed:

“Wolfgang, you idiot! Give it back to me”

Kira turned to the voice and saw two teens. The blondie boy in a large black hoodie was sitting on the fence. The girl with short hair dyed mint and a skull necklace on her chest was waiving playfully around the boy trying to get something back from him. 

Wolfgang. Is it the Wolfgang, Brewer’s step-son?

“Hey, guys”, waived Kira to the teens. Dean exhaled but closed the door of his car and followed Kira. 

The teens gave Kira and Dean wary looks and didn’t respond. 

“May we ask you a couple of questions about the quarry?” Went on Kira taking out her fake badge. “Agents Santiago and Peralta”

“You’re too pretty to be a fed”, smirked the boy giving Kira another wary look. 

Dean frowned. Kira preferred to ignore the comment and continued. 

“You’re Wolfgang, right?” She asked the boy. “Mr Brewer’s step-son” 

Wolfgang nodded positively.

“Fantastic”, smiled Kira. “Your step-father told us you and your friends used to hang out at the old quarry. Is that so?”

Wolfgang showed his white teeth in a witty smirk. 

“Maybe”, he said. 

“Have you ever witnessed anything strange there?” Asked Kira. 

“Define strange”

“Weird noises, screams, unusual puddles, moving objects”

Wolfgang laughed. 

“Are we in the X-files or what?”

“Just answer the question”, grumbled Dean. 

Wolfgang gave Dean an evaluative look and turned back to Kira.

“No, never”, he said. “It was always calm and safe there at night”

“And in the daytime?” Asked Kira. 

The teen exhaled and smiled. His mint-haired girlfriend strained, Kira’s question has certainly made her nervous. Wolfgang stayed calm. By his witty blue eyes Kira could say he knew something. 

“I wasn’t a frequent visitor of the site in the daytime”, he said smiling meaningfully. 

Kira’s eyes narrowed in a witty smirk too. 

“Then maybe you can tell us who was”

Wolfgang hesitated studying Kira’s expression. 

“Only if I get something in return from such a pretty lady”, he responded finally. 

It was the final drop for Dean apparently.

“Oh, man!” He exclaimed. “You’d better go study math!” 

Dean’s angry act of jealousy made Kira laugh. 

“Before you follow my partner’s advice”, she said chuckling, “I would appreciate if you tell me what you know”

With these words Kira took out a 100 from her pocket and handed it out to Wolfgang. The teen hid the money in his hoodie and leaned closer to Kira. 

“Bess Sterling used to visit the site at the sunset. No clue why, never asked. Just saw her many times exit the building”

Kira thanked the teens, Dean gave Wolfgang one last strict look and they drove back to their place. 

The rest of the afternoon they spent at the waste-land with Dean teaching Kira to shoot. She appeared to be a talented student. 

They arrived at the quarry at around midnight and chose the ground floor for meeting whatever-it-was. Kira made a safe-circle of salt (as both knew salt was the only effective protection against ghosts and spirits). Dean checked the guns (loaded with salt, of course) one last time. 

“Fine. I’m ready for the rendezvous”, he said gripping his shotgun. He gave Kira a short serious look. “Are you all right?”

“Sure”, she nodded. She was all right. She was damn ready. After all, hasn’t she ever met a ghost before? 

They waited for half an hour - nothing happened. Dean even started to doubt that whatever-it-was might not show itself at all. 

“It will”, responded Kira. “Patience. I feel it. It’s here”

Dean’s eyebrows went up.

“Can you feel the supernatural?”

“Not all the supernatural”, she explained. “Only the presence of souls of the dead”

Dean nodded and wanted to add something else but at this particular moment a screechy sound came down from the upper floor. 

They both froze and listened. Another screech came from the side of the entry door. 

“It’s coming”, whispered Kira gripping her gun. 

“Stay close”, said Dean with his voice sounded metal cold. 

And then they saw it - a floating group of big and small blue bubbles. They felt a blast of wind when it started approaching. 

“You son of a…”, spat Dean. Kira looked at him and her eyes widened. His shotgun was gone - just gone, disappeared into the thin air. 

The wind was blowing stronger now as the spirit continued its approaching.

“Stay close”, repeated Dean taking out his other gun and stepping closer to Kira. “How did it steal my shotgun? We’re inside the circle”

“No idea”, responded Kira aiming at the spirit together with Dean. 

“Shoot if it comes close to the salt line”, ordered Dean. 

“But…”

“Just shoot”, he insisted firmly. “Or it might be…”

Too late he wanted to say. It was too late already. 

Another blow of wind damaged the salt line and at that very moment Kira felt her right hand burning. She looked at it - the gun was gone. The spirit was floating directly at her with the screechy sound getting louder with every next second. 

“I know a blocking spell”, screamed Kira though the terrible screechy sound. “I can…”

The next moment she wasn’t feeling Dean’s back on hers anymore. She turned around: it got him, its power grabbed him by his neck and raised over the floor.

“You… son… of.. a.. bitch”, husked Dean grabbing his throat. “Kira… the spell”

She reacted immediately stretching her arms towards the spirit in a spell gesture. 

“Spirutus Immobi…”

A piercing pain chained her whole body, everything went dark in her eyes. She realised she was falling when her knee hit the concrete floor. 

“Kira”, husked Dean. 

She tried to stand up on her feet but the spirit attacked her with another blow of pain. She felt the deadly cold grow in the middle of her chest. She was paralysed, blind, she could barely breathe. 

Get up. You must. Otherwise…

And then it was all gone. No darkness, no paralysis, no pain. A thud on her right and a flow of husky swearings meant that Dean was free from spirit’s powers too. 

Kira exhaled, lifted her head up and in the dusk she saw a tall figure of a man in a trench coat and a hat with his hand put out. Right in front of him instead of the blue spirit there was only a small puddle of turquoise ooze. She blinked and the figure was gone. 

“What the hack?” She asked out loud. 

“Hell yes, what the hack”, grumbled Dean coughing. “Where did it go? Why did it leave us alive?”

Kira turned to Dean and came down to floor next to him. 

“I think I saw the ghost of Grims”, she said thoughtfully. “And I think he has just saved us”

[Read next: #21 A natural Motive for a supernatural Crime]