#as in like warrior who turns into a bear/has bear rage/whatever

[balaclava-marks]

//bear shifter seb//short comic

As a bear, Sebastian has periods where he doesn't remember he is human. Sometimes he wakes up covered in blood. He can change at will but he can't seem to suppress the change, to force it down. If he waits for too long, the outcome will get worse, days, sometimes a full week gone from his memory. The anxiety of checking the news after waking up naked, smelling of pine needles. The bear pelt he changes into always makes its way into his field of vision sooner or later and sometimes when he puts it on he finds himself consciouly letting go of his memories, fanning the flames of instinct to take over. On those occasions, he isn't scared of losing himself anymore, it's like he was always meant to be a bear, like the man's life was a bad dream. He cries when no fur covers his weak, naked body anymore, sometimes out of relief, sometimes mourning the loss.

[tinkerbelle05]

Sully Family Modern AU Headcanons

Characters: Jake, Neytiri, Kiri, Tuk, Neteyam, Mo’at, Lo’ak

Warnings: None :)

Summary: Just some headcanons of what the Sully’s would be like in our modern world

Taglist & Masterlist

Jake

Jake would def be a military dad and sometimes be doing too much but Netyiri always drags him back to earth

Goes all out for his kids’ extracurricular activities. He’s always there with a camera or trying to tell his kids what to do

Sometimes can get hard on his kids (esp Lo’ak) bc he wants to them to not make the same mistakes he did

Runs a nonprofit to help warriors who lost their limbs and/or struggling with PTSD from the first war

A girl dad all the way, he folds so hard when it comes to Kiri and Tuk

Is best buds with Tonowari and is always trading embarrassing stories with him

Much to their children’s dismay

Sometimes they go on camping trips together

Loves to prank his children and embarrassing them lovingly

Finds it hard to talk about Tommy and Tsu’tey but wants his kids to know their uncles so he pushes through

Listens to classic rock and country, you cannot tell me otherwise

Tries (and fails) to get his kids into it

Neytiri humors him at times and would admit (not to his face tho) that some of it is good

Neytiri

She is an instructor at a really good archery school

Loves to drink tea and Kiri always buys her different kinds from her “impulsive drives”

Still does all of the kids’ hair and retwist Jake’s locs for them

Save money and she makes it into a self-care for the person

And the kids do her hair as well

Is a mama bear and not afraid to tell someone off to protect her family

Is really into sustainable to protect Pandora

She mostly listens to podcasts but has a shared playlist with Jake

Teaches her kids self-defense and takes it very seriously

Helps out with fundraising for her kids clubs and schools if needed

But not really involved in the pta unless it involves her kids directly

She respects boundaries but really hates it when her family is in distress and won’t say anything

Goes on walks and hikes with Jake

They have a weekly date night to de-stress from the kids

Neteyam

School President and captain of whatever school team he plays for. Maybe soccer or volleyball

Girls, guys, honestly anyone whoever is attracted to guys def looked Neteyam’s way twice

But all those good looks but no rizz at all

What a shame

Lo’ak said it skipped Neteyam and went straight to him

Into mangas but his taste in them are all over the place. One day reading Haikyuu the next reading The Promised Neverland

Big 180

Similarly, his tastes are the same in music. Some day into indie the next heavy rock. But if asked, his favorite is indie full stop

Would be valedictorian of his school and all the teachers love him

Saved up for his first car and would die before he lets Lo’ak get behind the wheel

Road rage driver and got it from his parents

Is a tutor who does it for money but will help someone outta the kindness of his heart if needed

Feel immense pressure to be the best at everything he does. Which leads to burnout and his family stepping in

That intervention led to lots of hugs and tears

Promises to do better on Jake’s part

Had a Hamilton the musical phase, and sometimes will go back to the songs he really likes

Kiri

Really into crystals, plants, and herbalism

Has a garden in their backyard that is extremely well-taken care of

Into activism for many groups but her main focus would be the environment

Doesn't want Pandora to turn into Earth now

Has a well-known blog dedicated to plants and helps inform ppl about the dangers of greenhouse emissions

Her fashion taste is long but breathable dresses and doc martens

Goes thrift shopping with Neytiri and that's how she met Tsireya and her mom

While their moms had a rocky start the two girls were besties since the beginning

Prolly sapphic if I'm being honest with you

The only one that Neteyam trust with his car

A vegan and convinced her family to have non-meat Mondays

Has been bullied in the past for being “weird” and now has a silver tongue. People think twice before saying something slick to her. Bc it’s either her words or her brothers’ fist

Cuts her own hair. The first time was an impulse but she loves the way it looks so she continued

Has this really calming presence around her that attracts ppl but she prefers to do her own thing.

Lo’ak

Definitely into hip-pop,rap, and r&b (I will not be convinced otherwise)

Wears a lot of street wear style clothes but those Nike techs got him in a chokehold

Always in detention for fighting someone or playing a prank that blows up in his face

Room a mess 24/7 but somehow has an order to it that only he understands

Like Neytiri or Neytam would ask him to find something and he’ll get it within 5 seconds

One of those to joke flirty with a lot of girls but if it’s someone he really like (like Tsireya for example) he get real shy around her

Owns a skateboard and is always at the skatepark. It’s how he made peace with Rotxo after their lil scuffle on the first day of school

And by proxy Ao’nung

When he wants to, he can get really deep and have personal conversations with a person

Will probably play a sport like hockey or something that’s really action based

He got that W rizz on lock, at least that’s what he claims

Into animes like Blue Lock, AOT, Chainsaw man

But can't get into the mangas for some reason

When he was younger a stray dog saved him. Convinced his parents to adopt the dog. Named him Palkan

Tuk

An iPad kid and loves Toca Boca

Also kids bop and the family hates it

She’s a picky eater

Bc the songs are just stuck in their heads

Wants to do every sport and join every club.

Settled on girl scout for the cookies and friends, but mostly cookies

Charges her family extra for boxes

Always gets her way bc everyone is wrapped around her finger

And honestly, Jake and Neytiri gave up on parenting

Definitely called Ao’nung a penis face at least once

After that Jake and Neytiri had a serious discussion around what can and cannot be said around a 7 year old w/ the older kids

Has caught Lo’ak sneaking out on multiple occasions and uses it to blackmail him

Most ppl (at least Tsireya) think he’s a loving older brother. But the fam knows something is up

Is not in charge of packing her own lunch bc it's literally all junk food

Once a month,she, Kiri, and Neytiri have a girl’s day. Each of them can choose what they do each month.

Gets the most money from Grandma when birthdays comes around

She is in love with Starbucks and mainly spend her cash money on getting drinks that sounds or looks good. If she don’t like the drink, then she gives it to Kiri to finish them

Bonus:

Mo’at

Spoils her grandchildren way too much

But there is not much Jake and Neytiri can do about it

Says she has no favorites but it is 100% Kiri

Still thinks about her dead husband and is sad that he’ll never meet his grandchildren or his son-in-law

Has seen and know it all

If the kids are having trouble they go to her for advice but she so wise in all matters

Has traveled the world more than once and would love to do it again

But is still a homebody

Really spiritual and it’s something she and Kiri bond over

For all her loving, she will give her family a harsh talking to if needed

Total badass, where you think Neytiri got it from?

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Like, repost, comment if you wish. See ya in the next one 👋🏿

[sundaybossanova]

Witch's Love Chapter 3

Pairing: San x OC

AU: fantasy

Word count: 2k

Summery: It was a normal day for Sera, brewing potions, visiting the market and trying not to blow her cover but a sudden uninvited guest changes everything. Lying on her doorstep is a young man on the brink of death and she has no idea what she's gotten into after saving his life.

The leaves underneath San’s leather boots crunched as he went deeper into the woods. This part was rarely visited by humans, most of them too scared of the tales they heard of this place. Apparently a werewolf was once seen, others say a vampire roams around at night and some claim to have never seen anyone return from this part of the forest. To San and his brothers these stories meant nothing, knowing well enough that all of these were lies, tales mothers tell their children to prevent them from leaving the safety of their home. He and his brothers lived here since they were young boys, their parents dying while fighting for their beliefs, they dreamed of a world where no king could become a tyrant, using his people to fulfill his power hungry desires.

Memories of these dark times return, Seonghwa’s mother rushing all eight of them into the forest, telling them to continue until they see a small cottage. The young boys were scared, most of them were crying hot tears streaming down their faces. He remembered how Hongjoong forced back all his sadness, thanked the adult with a voice full of determination “I will lead them there, tell my parents that I love them. Whatever happens we will avenge you.” The woman was stunned by the boy's will to fight, he knew he took after his parents yet seeing him standing there with eyes filled with rage she couldn't be happier. “I know you will Hongjoong, you're a great leader just like your parents are don't forget that.'' She took a short pause trying to hold back tears herself as she looked at her son and his friends. “You all are so brave, my little warriors. Always remember that you guys are a family even when times are tough, together you will get through it.”

She knelt down to Seonghwa’s height, “I love you my son, never forget that. Love is the strongest weapon we have.” and with these last words she ushered them to run and find their hiding spot. Only when the last boy, little Jongho with his stuffed teddy bear, left her sight did she turn around to join her friends in their fight for freedom.

San remembers clearly how scared he and his friends were. Sitting in the little hut, Seonghwa gave all of them bread and water which their parents prepared for them along with other rations. The two oldest tried to act as brave as anyone but San could still hear them crying in the night when they thought all of them were asleep. Thinking back he is thankful to both of his older brothers, they gave them stability and hope during bad times, while still being there for each other.

With his thoughts lost in memories he doesn't realize that his home has come into view. The little hut has become a cottage built over the years by their own hands. It might not be the most beautiful house but to them it was home. He can see candlelight from inside the kitchen, probably Wooyoung preparing food for all of them. The small stable was already dark, Yunho must have finished looking after the horses and their little goats and chicken by now, ready to eat whatever has been prepared for dinner.

As San steps in front of the door he can feel his heart speed up. With a soft knock he made his presence known before opening the door slowly. Exhausted from the day's walk he didn't realize the man standing next to the door and before he could react he was tackled to the ground. “Who are you and how have you found our home?” the deep rough voice could only belong to one of his brothers. A tall giant, with sharp eyes and an intimidating aura yet San knows better. Under this whole facade lies a shy and loyal boy ready to play pranks on all his friends.

“Mingi it’s me San. Now get off you big oaf. Gosh you are heavy.” he put his arms on the taller guys shoulder trying to get him to move only for San to feel a stinging pain in his back. Groans left his mouth and that was all for Mingi to get out of his shock. “Oh my god, it really is you. We all thought you were dead. Where have you been?” He was bombarded by questions while Mingi helped him to his feet, all of the commotion garnering the attention of the other inhabitants of the house. “Are you talking to yourself again Mingi?” the words leaving their youngests mouth as he came out of his room.

“Is that you Sannie?” For the first time Jongho didn't know what to say, the sudden appearance of the person he thought dead stunning him. “What is going on here, I was trying to work out our next heist and all I can hear is you playing around” before their leader could say anything else San interrupted him “Hey Captain, good to see you too.”

After a long and heartwarming welcome all the boys gathered around the kitchen table waiting for Wooyoung to serve them dinner. “How are you still alive?” “You met a speaking dog?” “Are you sure you didn't hit your head?” With all of his brothers demanding answers San felt lost, he wasn't sure where to even start, only mentioning snippets of information. “All of you be quiet, let him tell the story. Ask your questions after.” and with the words from their oldest everyone shut up eyes fixated on San ready to hear the full story. While retelling them everything that happened he tried to be as detailed as possible to avoid another flood of questions but he should have known better.

“So your new friend, is she pretty?” Wooyoung’s voice broke the silence making San glare at him. “What type of question even is that? He should tell us what ingredients the witch used to heal his wounds in such a short time. Do you know Sannie?” Typical for Yeosang to be curious about herbs, the moment he saw Sera engrossed in her potion making he thought of Yeo and his love for collecting herbs as well as making remedies for all their injuries. Hearing these questions made San let out a breath of relief, nothing had changed while he was gone and for that he was forever grateful.

Until late into the night all the brothers stayed up, listening to San’s story, sharing what they were up to while he was gone and just reminiscing in each other's presence. Finally he was home, yet he felt that something was missing or rather someone.

The cold creeped up Sera’s legs, she felt the wet floor underneath her that sent shivers down her back. With desperation she tried opening her eyes, fighting the drowsiness away only to see darkness. Everything seemed to turn, the dizziness overwhelming her body who was ready to give up and go back to sleep. The only thing keeping her awake were the footsteps that came closer accompanied by the rough voice of a man. “Oh look, our little witch has finally woken. Ready to grace us with her presence.” On the ceiling of her prison cell she could make out an opening, soft moonlight shining down on her. Through the barricades of the door she could see polished leather boots and even without seeing more of her captor Sera was sure he had a wicked grin plastered across his face. “Where am I and why am I here?” her throat felt dry the few words she spoke not making it any better. “Asking questions now? You should know what you have done, killing an innocent child like it is nothing.” Chills ran down her back, never has she hurt a child nor a baby. Mind racing, she tries desperately to find what she has done wrong.

“I would never-” before she could finish her defense the doors to her little cell were opened, the man kneeling down to look at her. His face was round and full of wrinkles, showing his yellow teeth as he spoke to her. “You whore sold a potion to my wife, making her lose our child. How dare you plead innocent. I will make you pay for this witch.” With the words of this stranger Sera realized her mistake. “The young girl, she is your wife?” maybe she should have thought before speaking but the utter shock and disgust for this man overcame her. “She asked for this potion she probably didn't want this child, perhaps she doesn't even want to be your wife.” Not holding back she continued her venomous rant.

“And even if she doesn't want to, I bought that whore and I will use her however I want. She should be lucky I made her my wife and not just a servant I toy around with. I gave her everything and she dared to kill my son and go behind my back.” the stranger was beyond angry, Sera berates herself for speaking so carelessly in such a dire situation, she should have shut her mouth not aggravated her captor any further. “I already decided on a fitting punishment for my wife and I will enjoy it thoroughly.'' His smile made her sick to her stomach not wanting to imagine what he had planned for this poor young girl.

“Don't you dare touch her, she has only done what was good for her. If she doesn't want a child it's her right to get rid of it. Especially if the father forced himself onto her like a fucking pig.” If she wasn't going to get out of this cell alive, the young witch wanted to at least speak her mind. From a young age on she learned to stand up for her beliefs and that is what she will do until the day she dies. “How dare you speak to me like that you bloody witch!” The captor apparently had enough of her back talking, with his right hand he took a hold of his sword and with a swift motion he slashed it into the hole right at Sera.

She could feel her skin tearing, blood slowly pouring out onto her dirty clothes. The pain slowly overtook her whole body, groans leaving her mouth as she sacked to her knees trying to put pressure on her wound to stop the bleeding. “This is what you get for opening your rotten mouth and believe me the next time I visit will be much worse - if you're even alive until then.” With his last words spoken and a satisfied look on his face the stranger left the young witch to suffer. Sera could feel the last bits of her energy leaving her body. She became dizzy seeing black dots and before she knew it her head hit the ground and the world turned black.

Deep inside the dark forest leaves were crushed as a dark creature made its way through the trees, long legs running at high speed not caring for its surroundings. In front of a shabby looking hut the animal finally came to a stop letting out a long and painful howl, alerting the residents of the house. Within a minute the old creaky door was opened, two young lads with weapons stepping out, one taller than the other looking around and spotting the black wolfish creature. “What the fu-” before the shorter one could finish San pushed through his brothers running to the animal. “Bram, what are you doing here?” his eyes were full of confusion trying to figure out why the familiar would be here out of all places. “Where is Sera?”

The wolf's head sank in shame and with a hoarse voice it spoke what San had been fearing to hear. “The mayor of the village has kidnapped her, he wants her to burn for using witchcraft and being affiliated with the devil”.

borders by @cafekitsune

[morgana-ren]

Hmmm. This is perhaps an odd scenario to pop into my mind, but bear with me for a moment.

Now when you finally find Halsin in the Worg pens, he's being tormented by two goblin children, who, if you initiate a fight, will run away and summon a few extra guards unless you kill them first. Luckily for my soft heart, there are no consequences for that beyond three more NPCs joining the fight who aren't even very hard to kill lol

So... My mind has jumped to this scenario: we all know Astarion can be very cruel in his practical, survivalist way. Consider... Astarion's surprise when Tav, perhaps a paladin or druid or one of the goodie-two-shoes classes suddenly gets just as vicious as he, stopping him from shooting down the two little goblins and allowing them to escape. Tav almost roars their order to stop at him, as furious as the bear they just freed, and in shock he does, instead shooting down or stabbing one of the adults. They're bristling, savage in their righteous rage, teeth bare and spattered with blood after the fight ends as they snarl that there are lines they will never cross, not even for him. Their heart aches for the suffering he went through at the hands of Cazador and they want to help him achieve peace with it, whatever it takes to do so, but they don't have the luxury that he does of picking up and putting down their conscience. Unfortunately, not every time they cleave to their principles is sure to be as manageable as just a few more goblins poking their nose into a fight.

But they hold their line. No. Child. Murder. Ever. Not even goblin children.

How does Astarion handle a Tav who loves him, wants to help him, even trusts him to bare their heart and turn their back to him... But still challenges him because they remember he's still a monster and they aren't, not yet at least?

Ultimately, I think that's what Astarion needs. Desperately. He needs someone to rein in his darker urges and remind him of the humanity in him-- that he isn't the monster he thinks he is, and that he still has control over himself and doesn't have to fall into the pit of depravity just because he feels he is one.

However, what Astarion needs and what Astarion wants are two totally different things.

It's just raw pragmatism is all. Vampires have changes that happen to them that even they can't control. His desperation shows through when he's willing to feed on Tav despite being in a camp full of warriors that would almost certainly slay him if he was discovered. He needs that blood or he goes feral. He quite literally cannot help himself.

This coupled with his selfish, survivalist nature can be a recipe for disaster. It's only fair that Tav might be wary, because their morals might not align with Astarion's in any given situation, and the darker situations, like the maiming of a child, it might be difficult to know where he stands, so it's easier just to draw the line in the sand before he has a chance to cross it.

He doesn't like it. Astarion likes power. Astarion likes to do what Astarion wants to do without anyone there to question him. Astarion wants full control of his actions and autonomy-- including freedom from the consequences of those choices, regardless of how they might reflect on him.

But that's not love. Love is selfish, yes, but love is also compromise. Love is understanding and caring about your partners needs and feelings, and I think that's genuinely hard for him because it's asking him to give up the one thing he genuinely wants and strives for: Complete and total freedom.

It would take extreme tact and precision, because essentially, if his affection wanes, he has no problem walking away because the sacrifice isn't worth the benefit. He can really like Tav, but realize that he's a vampire that is essentially immortal and he can eventually find someone more suited to his tastes.

But let's assume he doesn't want to. Let's assume he genuinely loves Tav back and is willing to work.

It would still take immense tact. You would basically have to manipulate him and make him think that making the right choices is what he wants. It would have to be framed in such a way that he thinks he came to the conclusion himself. Tav might have to do a mental deep dive and try to figure out why the lines are where they are, because telling Astarion "Because it's the right thing to do" isn't going to fly.

For children, you might be able to frame it as 'They are no threat to you, it's a pointless waste of energy and arrows," or "Focus on the threat at hand. Let them run and focus on the ones that aren't."

I think it's impossible to change Astarion and make him a stereotypical 'good' guy. He is who he is and has centuries of his personality being carved into stone. He will always have to be held in check if there's something truly reprehensible he's aiming for. But you can sort of rewire his brain in a small way so that the truly dreadful things are things he won't consider because he doesn't think he wants to.

He will, essentially, always have to be babysat by a 'good' character, and it is immensely draining, but that's what it is to love a monster.

You cannot change the monster; you can work to tame it, but it will always be a monster. You can love a monster, and it may even love you, but you cannot change its nature.

What makes Astarion a monster isn't that he is a vampire, but that he knows he a vampire. He knows what people expect from him, and he doesn't really give a shit to subvert those expectations. What makes him a monster is his selfishness, and his will do to whatever it takes to be free and live the life he feels was robbed from him. Tav would be asking him to change who he is if they wanted to change that entirely, and that just won't work.

Compromise is the answer. Manipulation and compromise. You'd have to slap a leash on him without him realizing what you've done. And you'd have to make him very happy in the meantime.

[thelaladump]

Hello, swagat hai aapka meri vulnerabilities ke andar

Welcome to another edition of Grunts and Gratitudes where we learn together that things are only ever as bad as we make them out to be and by finding the serenity and our chaos, we may truly find happiness in our being.

Today Let's talk about a Grunt that has been bothering me for years:

Every morning, I wake up to the unwelcome embrace of Sacroiliitis, a chronic condition that plagues my days with relentless back pain. Sacroiliitis, characterized by inflammation in the sacroiliac joints, turns even the simplest tasks into monumental challenges. It's like having an uninvited guest that overstays its welcome.

The pain manifests itself in various forms throughout the day, each sensation a reminder of the constant battle raging within my body. It starts as a dull ache in the lower back, gradually intensifying with each step I take. It's as if every movement sends shockwaves of discomfort rippling through my spine, a constant reminder of the burden I bear.

Even simple activities like bending down to tie my shoes or reaching for a high shelf become difficult feats, each movement accompanied by a sharp twinge of pain. It's like trying to navigate through a minefield, with each step fraught with the risk of triggering a flare-up that leaves me incapacitated for hours on end.

Despite my best efforts to push through, the pain relentlessly wears me down, sapping my energy and leaving me feeling defeated. It's a constant companion, a shadow that follows me wherever I go, casting a cloud of smoke  over even the brightest moments of my day.

But amidst the darkness, there are glimmers of hope – moments of respite when the pain momentarily recedes into the background. It's during these fleeting moments that I find the strength to soldier on, knowing that even in the midst of adversity, there is still light to be found.

Yes, despite the challenges that Sacroiliitis presents, I refuse to let it define me. I am more than just my pain, more than just the sum of my struggles. I am a fighter, a warrior who refuses to be defeated by the relentless ache that courses through my body.

So I rise each day with determination in my heart, ready to face whatever challenges come my way. And though the road may be long and fraught with obstacles, I take solace in the knowledge that with each step forward, I grow stronger, more resilient, and more capable of overcoming whatever life throws at me.

If you or someone you know is grappling with Sacroiliitis, remember that help is within reach. Whether it's seeking advice from healthcare professionals, exploring physical therapy options, or connecting with others who share similar experiences, there are avenues to alleviate the burden of this chronic condition. To learn more about managing Sacroiliitis and finding relief, I encourage you to explore reputable sources such as Cleveland Clinic and Mayo Clinic. 

Remember to take proactive steps in managing your health, whether it's staying consistent with medication, incorporating gentle exercises into your routine, or seeking support from loved ones. Together, let's empower ourselves to face each day with courage and resilience, knowing that even amidst the pain, there is hope for a brighter tomorrow. Until next time, stay grateful.

[meadowlarksabove]

Tales from Arizona 3/??

A decanus learns about the death of his son and it puts everything into perspective. (Notes: Hortensius is Gabban's decanus previously featured in the first TfA story. For reasons implied in this story, Hortensius renounced his birth name to better fit into the Legion, which is why it's never used or mentioned here. His son's birth name is used because 'Florus' wasn't chosen by his son, but a romanization forced upon them.)

(PLEASE LOOK AT TRIGGER WARNINGS IN THE TAGS!!)

______________________________________________________

…It is with great pain that I have learned of the death of your son. Of all the hardships in building our great empire, chiefest is the loss of great men such as your son. There is no consolation one can offer a father when he has lost their true and rightful heir. Let yourself, at least, be relieved in knowing that every man who gives their life for the Legion lives forever in honor. Do well by his memory, tend to your duties, and do as is right of a man in rebuilding your family- 

Decanus Hortensius raised a hand to the courier before they could recite the rest of the message. Whatever had flashed before the eyes of the warrior, whether sharp or gruesome, had been enough to forewarn the messenger of their great emotion. Without another word, they placed the letter onto the war table and hastily left the tent. Everything thereafter was silent, none of the decanii scheduled to meet with Hortensius could be admitted into his tent without incurring the clearest offense. The soldiers were also forbidden from passing the flap without the expressed approval of their master. In only a matter of hours the entirety of the camp knew something terrible had happened, as a dark and oppressive cloud seemed to shadow their spirits on an otherwise sunny day. Many wondered and looked over their shoulders, thinking rightly that death had given its news. They shivered to think what would become of them, as loss rarely tempered but instead inflamed a man’s character. 

Hours passed and none had seen their decanus save for his closest in command who imparted orders in his absence. While Hortensius had never inspired tenderness in any of his men, they respected his leadership and wisdom, and greatly depended on his fortitude. To see him detained by whatever had stricken him was enough cause for worry. On the other hand, it meant their plans of quitting Phoenix were temporarily put on hold. Though they were eager for their next battle, they had gotten little to no rest in the past month of their campaign and were grateful for even a day of no traveling. Still, their rest had come at an unspeakable cost, and none of them felt any real pleasure for it. They looked at his tent wearily and thought he would burst through the camp hot with rage, ready to ease his pain by spreading misery. Yet nothing came through the flap but a sad and unfortunate quiet. 

Quiet was exactly all the decanus could bear. For the rest of that day he had sat at his table and invariably taken the letter in his hands, only to let go of it when it had lingered too long between his fingers. The message, delicately scrawled across the paper, was useless to a man who’d never learned how to read or write. Yet he understood the truth of its account and of the tragedy he was now forced to face head on. His son, Florus- No, let them be named in his heart by their true name! He was in his right, now more than ever, to remember them by the name he and his wife had given them at birth. Aster, his one and only son, was dead. Aster, who had only been nineteen years old, was dead. 

The thought of his son’s age sent him into another fit. Though no tears welled up in his tired eyes, he felt his lungs swell to the point of making it impossible for him to breathe. He gasped for air, just as his body turned stiff and cold. He was like a dying man himself, lamenting the loss of someone just at the cusp of manhood. But would he have suffered less if his son had died any younger, or older? Would it have made any sense to cry less at the loss of an infant or a middle aged man? Yet his having died at nineteen felt at the moment like the greatest injustice of all, a sentence only thought up in nightmares. They had survived the coming of the Legion into their territory, survived the aftermath of their shameful surrender, survived battles forced upon them by their captors, only to die before he’d been given the honor of a title. However, would they really have wanted such an empty gesture?

Aster, how they must have hated fighting for the bull. Ever since Caesar had drawn them all into his ranks, they had always looked wretched and full of rage. Though that same anger had inadvertently served them at war, in peace it would have only festered and grown into an even greater poison. Hortensius had seen the disdain in his son’s eyes when all of their tribesmen relinquished their arms, as if to say they would never be so easily tamed or made a dog of. His son, he knew, had been a struggle for other decanii, and an even bigger terror towards their peers. No crack of the whip or glaring branding iron could have broken his will. He admonished his son’s behavior in the face of his superiors, but in his heart he praised them with all the spirit a father could give. Though he had long stopped believing in the fall of the Legion, he believed his Aster was capable of attaining real freedom. 

Death at the height of war wasn’t freedom, however. He couldn’t pretend to think his son’s spirit were any less enraged than they were in life, or think them satisfied with having given their life for a cause so against their own. Survival had been their way of fighting against the odds, the fact they’d lived after every fight, every punishment, had been a foil to the Legion’s wishes. But death had put a stop to that. Death had freed his son’s decanus of a “bad seed”, one less “wildling” to worry about when there were many like Cicero or Vulpes to contend with. Hortensius struggled to keep thinking in this way. If Aster’s dying had done even a single person of the Legion a modicum of good, then he’d have to count his son’s death a shameful one. Another failure. 

What had been the point in their surrender anyway? Decanus Hortensius moved to his bed as if lost in a haze, and looked up at the red burlap ceiling of his tent. He thought back to their last night as a free tribe, and on the words of their elders. There was rebellion in survival, if they held on long enough they would someday outlive the red flames of the Legion. Though the bulls were strong, stronger still was the good in the rest of the world. Hortensius had understood the wisdom in their message then, but years spent in the service of beasts had weakened his resolve to the point of finding the good as well as the evil in it. To win they would have to be patient, and with that resolve they had survived and shown themselves stronger than any of the weapons turned against them. But how deep were the scars, and how lasting! The youths of his people were reduced to pawns, and the best of his generation were made into war criminals like himself. Pillagers, raiders, scourges of the earth. People he’d known for years were newly made strangers under the influence of starvation, thirst and oppression. So many had forgotten their old names in favor of appeasing the census dogs that patrolled the streets and kept tabs on all the annexed tribes. It was harder now, more than ever, to remember why they had actually chosen to live.

Aster, you see me now from your place in the Far Away. Can’t you tell me what you know? 

The tears finally came as he tried to think of his Aster standing beside the spirits of his father and grandfather. They would have to guide his son in whatever he had failed. Even in the Far Away they would have to be raised, and he was glad they had found themselves once more in the company of their heroes. Though strangely enough, the image of that blessed meeting remained foggy in his mind, as if drowned into obscurity by the sheer force of his weeping. His body seemed to refuse it like a bad herb. Instead, his thoughts shot in the opposite direction, and where his son had stood were now the children fallen into rank in his encampment. 

Tribeless, parentless, with no hope of a better tomorrow, these were the children the red armies had spat out from the corpses of worthier people. They were miserable creatures with newly given names they could hardly pronounce for themselves. He’d never seen children in the service of war before joining the Legion, and could scarcely provide the heartlessness it took to train them. Hortensius avoided looking at them, in fact, and delegated that charge as often as he could to the rest of his command. But even his ignorance of their presence couldn’t save him from the painful sight of their bodies, or the knowledge that he had played a role in their demise. For every cog in the machine, no matter how small, was implicated in the disposal of these children. 

Then as he imagined them in Aster’s place, he feared they would tell his son of his negligence and of his shirking responsibility. It was to Decanus Hortensius they were assigned and not his second in command. But how could a man be a father and a guide to children he hadn’t sired? They were strange, frightening even, and fragile in ways that depressed his heart. None of them were ready to face violence on the battlefield, and those who’d survived up to this point had done it through chance alone. Despite what the Legion would have everyone believe, weapons were made out of metal, not brittled flesh.

Though was that enough to justify abandoning his post? They, like his son, had been someone’s heir once. 

In a way, Hortensius had denied these children of fatherly guidance, and as sick recompense he was denied a son. No longer would he be a real father to anyone, he would refuse to produce an heir and pretend infertility if questioned. Make another son? (For them to die? For them to pointlessly toil like these children?) It was out of the realm of possibility, he’d had his chance and with it he paid for his own crimes. He’d taken his position as decanus and his responsibilities to the soldiers entirely for granted. To his son, he’d shown himself a coward on the day of their surrender, and to these children he’d revealed himself an incompetent leader. This had been his comeuppance for forgetting the wisdom of his elders and faltering where he should have ardently rebelled. 

Everything was suddenly so clear. Hortensius began to understand why he saw these children in the place of his son. He had marked these boys as strangers out of the bounds of his past tribe. But where was his tribe now? A powerless people, scattered throughout the entire state of Arizona, their name an illicit whisper in the dark. How could he pretend to hold himself in higher regard than the orphans left behind in the bull’s passing? Wasn’t he also tribeless, parentless, with no hope of a better tomorrow? He’d blinded himself to the fact that all children were everyone’s charge, that no baby had cried any different to his own. Why hadn’t he seen this before? He wept into the coarse fabric of his cot and clenched his fists until they drew blood. The elders had told them to survive, but not alone. 

Aster shouldn’t have had to die for him to learn this lesson. It shouldn’t have come this far, yet he would work the rest of his life if it meant making amends for his cruelty. If his son watched him from the Far Away, then he wouldn’t give them any more cause for shame or disappointment. To the boys in his encampment, he owed a lifetime of service. They should survive long enough to see what his son couldn’t. 

The fall of the Legion couldn’t be enjoyed from the seat of death, only by living could they feel the retribution from a life rotted with grief. They will survive. From the strongest to the weakest, they will all survive. He swore by the blood under his nails and the persistence of his beating heart, that he would see every one of them alive and strong enough to fight. Even strong enough to turn against the hands that trained them.

[theragefulbarbarian]

Sundris - a rageful barbarian who also loves to eat.

Sundris was born under the light of a blood moon, the sky a deep, rich crimson, cradled in the rugged embrace of that which is known as the Frostfire Mountains. Survival was of the utmost importance. Her tribe, the IceFangs, revered stregnth, tenacity and ferocity. It was what made them the terrifying barbarians that they were.

Babes born under the light of a blood moon are destined for greatness or destruction. It is known by the symbol of a dark skull breaking in half - the fang of the wolf piercing it from the top.

Her mother is a fierce barbarian chieftain that instilled strength and a ferocity unlike any other into her. Her father is a shaman with a clever tongue and an affinity for food and cooking. He gifted her the knowledge of cooking a hearty meal that fills you up, tastes great and has healing properties mixed within it.

When she was younger her and her tribe often roamed the lands looking for villages to plunder and people to get rid of. It there in the lands of the IronHowls that she found a little girl, who they named Adris, a few younger than Sundris herself.

Being the shaman that he was, her father took the little one in and nurtured her. Sundris and her mother protected the girl and her father until she was healed enough to travel. Luckily, with a few harsh stares, no one in her tribe spoke out too much. Those that did were swiftly dealt with - usually by Sundris.

As she grew up and matured whispers began about her both within her clan and outside tribes. Even foreigners heard about a young woman warrior slaying her enemies in one fell swoop. The mark upon her cheek makes it that much worse since she can't really hide it. She was cursed to bear it for all to see.

When Sundris was 16 and Adris just 13, Sundris was captured by a neighboring tribe, The StoneClaws. They wanted to use her to rise through the ranks and destroy all of their enemies, her tribe included. It was a rough couple of months. Spring changed to Summer while in their lands. She was given only enough food to keep her strength up and only enough water to make sure she stayed hydrated. It was during this time that she learned to really channel her rage. She had just caved in the head of the soldier that kept watch over her when her mother and sister barged in to rescue her.

Needless to say, after the three of them, the StoneClaws were no more.

The months that followed, Summer turning into Autumn, was one that Sundris regretted terribly.

It started out like any other normal day. Everyone was up and lumbering around the campsite, eating breakfast and gathering wood, preparing a hunting party. The usual.

Adris just finished her chores set about by her mother and Sundris herself was out foraging for whatever she could find, berries, mushrooms you name it. It didn't take long for her little adopted sister to come find her and bug her incessantly about exploring the lands outside their camp. With her Father's permission, since her mother was out hunting, the two barbarians set out. The dragonborn was educating her sister on where the best hunting spots were, how to track an animal and how to stealth about.

"Fear my come knocking at your door— yet resilience must always greet them instead. Your emotions are both a weapon and a shield. Always remember that."

Off in the distance where the trees thinned out and rocky outcroppings began, a marker was placed in the form of many hands upon the tree trunks. It was to indicate when to stop — that anyone who went past it would be put into dangers of the outside realm.

"Never travel past that marker, understood?"

Adris nodded her head and the two turned back to head towards the camp.

Sundris paused however when she heard an echoing cry for help and the sound of footsteps on rock. Quick as she could she pushed Adri further into the forest and put a finger to her lips.

Turning back around the large dragonborn cautiously made her way beyond the tree line and to the outcropping where the sound grew louder.

Off in the distance poor traveling merchant was surrounded by a band of... people. She wasn't sure what they were. They wore clothes that she really didn't recognize.

Her common was thick with an accent when she spoke to leave the man alone, to pick on someone their own size.

A bad choice of words perhaps.

These strangers did /not/ play fair. Greedy, sparkling eyes soon turned to her but only one pair stuck out to her. A strong, tall and lean dragonborn from a tribe she could not remember was among their party.

Said dragonborn spoke of how special Sundris was, how she was prophesized to be the one who would bring destruction to your enemies and riches to your lands. Sundris hissed and reached for her blade so that she can strike this traitor down.

In her anger she failed to notice the circle that was forming around her. A big burly man reached out and grabbed her waist from behind while two others quickly went for her arms. It took five more of them to subdue her.

There was a few casualties and her blade glistened with blood by the time she was incapacitated. Heavy iron chains were strapped to her wrists and she was hauled away.

Adris, luckily, stayed around to help her sister if need be. But with a group that big she faltered. She blames herself for not being able to help. All she could do was turn and run back to the campsite where she alerted her mother and father.

They mourned the loss of their daughter and vowed to bring her back.

[that-yandere-life]

Could you maybe do headcanons of Loki with a female darling who has anxiety and depression and has a hard time taking care of herself because of it? I totally understand if you're not comfortable with writing that, though.

[Warnings: Yandere Themes *Obviously*, Mentions of depression and mental health issues, Sweet Loki.]

Loki is fully aware of how bad things can get sometimes for you, he was watching over you long before you ever knew of his existence.

Meaning he is prepared and willing to do anything you need to help you function in some sort of capacity.

Always bringing you fresh water and snacks when you don’t feel up to eating big meals, or getting a big meal of your choosing whenever you have a craving of some sort.

Maids tend to the rooms so you don’t have to worry about cleaning up your laundry, or picking up your used dishes from whatever you consumed that day.

Fresh clothing, linens, anything you might need will be provided for you everyday so you need not lift a finger to do chores.

Bathing with you every other day, making sure that the water is extra warm because he knows how much it relaxes your muscles and your thoughts.

Using the finest smelling soaps and shampoos on you, scratching and massaging your scalp lovingly.

Reading to you on the days where you just can’t force yourself to get out of bed, his silky voice eventually lulls you into a sense of calm and ease.

Holding you close to him explaining to you just how much you mean to him, and how his life is infinitely better with you in it, hell he is a better person because of you.

Never thinking that he deserved to feel the return of the most purest form of love until he met you that gloriously fateful day.

Understanding first hand what it was like to experience depression, dealing with it for most of his life.

While he didn’t always have the healthiest coping mechanisms he will teach himself better ones to benefit you in the long run, and in turn helping himself in new ways he never thought possible.

Urging you to come with him on walks along the gardens to see the mystical flowers and plants that inhabit the mysterious place you now called home.

Telling you what every single species was as you passed them, having extensive knowledge of the flora and fauna native to his home.

Sometimes he just listened to you talk about your thoughts and feelings, thinking that it would be good for you to let out some of the steam you are holding onto.

Embracing you when the voice in your head gets to be too much to bear and you can’t help but begin to cry.

Refuting everything it was attempting to get you to believe about yourself, wishing so desperately that he could show you what you look like through his eyes.

To him you are perfect, even your flaws are part of what makes you that much more of a picture of perfection.

Constantly reminding you how strong you truly are to battle the demons that you battle on a daily basis, things no one else can fully relate to but yourself.

On your worst days he will call you his little warrior, because the war is raging inside of your mind but he knows you will get through this, as you won’t have to ever go through it alone.

Dropping whatever he is doing at the drop of a hat if you need him, even if it is important business, that matters not to him.

In this entire universe the only thing he cares about at the end of the day is you, you who has bewitched his very soul with your mere existence.

Should you experience nightmares or night terrors he will always be there to comfort you when you wake up, likely trying to turn your dreams into pleasant imagery before that happens.

Sure he could alter your emotions with his magic, but that wouldn’t be right as you wouldn’t be yourself it would be him molding you into a different person entirely.

If you should ever ask him to help you in that way he will for a little while just to give you a break from tormenting yourself.

There is nothing he wouldn’t do to take care of you, and help you take care of yourself on your darkest and lightest days.

[I really needed some good old fashioned fluff today and you provided! I hope that you enjoy this, and that it was what you were wanting darling! Please know that you are never alone! If you ever need someone to talk to who can relate, my inbox is always open! <3]

[gliphyartfan]

@stars-for-thought @imprisioned-in-the-hole @linked-heroes @ice-cream-writes-stuff

This...wrecked me.

BUT it was a long time coming! Had to cut half of it out cause it grew too long (nearly 6k is still long right?). But I did it! I honestly hope I did it justice!

If not for @yandere-linked-universe, I would have lost all motivation a week ago!

But I was successful!

Still though...heroes and their need to argue...

It wasn't something they've done in a long while.

Gathering around one another.

Not willingly at the least.

Eight of them sitting a fair distance away from the houses, the camp fire being the only source of light for them at this time of night.

Hyrule the last one to arrive, having checked up on (y/n) before arriving at the designated place, so the eight simply sat around the camp fire in silence, stewing in their own thoughts.

When he arrives, informing them of y/n's stable condition, it was then Legend claps his hands and brings their attention to him.

'I think I speak for all of us when I say we need to air out some things.' He would give them all a stern look. 'And let me be clear on the fact that we can't hide anything right now.'

None of them look at each other.

Hyrule nervously agrees but expresses concern over being heard by the nearby houses, more worried at disturbing (y/n) than he was about disturbing the neighbors.

Wind assures him that they wouldn't be heard.

'Mesa doesn't sleep at night cause of the monsters that used to pop up, plus he hates being alone nowadays so he stays with Miss Sue-Belle and her grandpa at night.' Wind explained with a shrug.

'Even if he was there, he's a really heavy sleeper, we could scream at the very top of our lungs all we want and no one would hear us from over here. I've tested it.'

'How convenient.' Wars remarked with a snort but wouldn't make a comment after getting a look from Time.

Before things could become awkward, Legend does not hesitate to be blunt about it.

'We need to stop.' He would say, resting his elbows on his knees.

'Stop what?' Wild mutters.

'All of 'this'.' He's wave his hand towards the group, a scowl on his face.

Wars rolls his eyes.

'Legend, my dear hoarder, you need to be more specif-'

' When was the last time we talked to one another without taking note of eachothers weaknesses?'

Warriors closed his mouth, the group looked at each other, none speaking up with an answer.

'When was the last time we actually shared a space without tension? Covered each other in battle because we were worried instead out of obligation, or just leaving each other to fend for themselves? Or shared our potions willingly?' A sharp smile on his face. 'Or better yet, when was the last time we trusted one another?'

...

No one had anything to say to that.

Legend shook his head, a scowl appearing. 'I'm not dumb, I can see what's in front of me. Whatever trust we forged during our journey is at risk of fading to almost nothing. It's a fucking miracle y/n hasn't noticed us going for each other's throat.

'Okay, that's a bit harsh.' Sky interjected nervously, 'I agree that it's possible things have been...rather tense lately, but I wouldn't say it's that bad.'

Legend leveled a look at him.

'Four, Wild, and Twilight have all scared off at least 12 different people for looking at her recently.'

'It was necessary!' Four exclaimed in defense, Twilight placing a hand on his shoulder keep him from jumping up from his seat, Wild staying in his seat, though his hands tightened into fists. ' We saw the intentions in their eyes! The way they stared at her! They were looking at her like she was food!'

Legend turned the leveled look at the blacksmith.

'All 12? All of them? In the same town? In the same day? He asked with a scoffed, 'Same hour? Half of them women? Oh yes, very dangerous. And it's rather convenient when the Cook joins in and helps you scare them away.'

Four had a sneer on his face but the silent rancher's hand on his shoulder kept him from doing anything else.

Legend watched them for another moment before turning back to Sky.

'Warriors and Hyrule have been awfully careful with keeping any of us from encroaching upon her personal space, either by being the ones to guard her while she's bathing or when she's hurt.'

'What, so that makes us suspicious?' The captain crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at him, Hyrule nervously ducking his head. 'She deserves some space away from you clingy lot! We're just making sure she has it!'

'Funny how you say that when you've been taken advantage of your position to have some alone time with her.' Legend doesn't even look away from the skyloftian as he answers back. 'You know, you're quite charming when you think no one is paying attention. And don't think I haven't noticed how our resident healer has been hoarding potions for some time.'

Warriors and Hyrule tensed at being found out, keeping their eyes from settling on anyone else's as they were looked at.

'The old man has been very careful in sending one of us ahead when there's danger. That honestly took me a bit to figure out, since he rotates who goes. Yet he never seems to volunteer himself.' The vet looked over at Time, who's featured remained impassive.

'Wild has been more aggressive with strangers than Four, which is saying something considering how violent the blacksmith has been. The sailor has been growling at every kid that's been as close as 5 feet of her and clings to her when he thinks we're too busy, and don't think I haven't noticed the way you've been nudging the tension between everyone while going through her things Sky.'

He raised an eyebrow as he looked back at the pale faced skyloftian.

'And you're telling me it's not that bad?'

There wasn't anything the group could say to those (accurate) accusations, Four looked to be visibly restraining himself from hitting him.

...

'...Maybe it's because you all force your presence on her...'

'...What was that?' Four growled out, solid blue eyes snapping up to glare at the speaker.

Wind lifted his head, glaring back at the blacksmith.

'You heard me Blacksmith, or is your attention span as short as your height?' He sneered. 'You all force your presence on her when she wants to be left alone! At least she feels comfortable with me!'

Four sneered back at Wind. 'The way you hog her attention is the very comforting.'

'Hey, I at least GIVE her space! I saw how you yelled at that shopkeeper when he asked if she needed anything-'

'I had to! Didn't you see the way that disgusting bastard-'

...

Legend watched as the group slowly dissolved into chaos. Each hero soon shouting at one another.

This is what he had been worried about for so long, and here was proof that the trust they had between one another is dangerously close to collapsing.

He watched as Twilight was talking coldly to Time, who didn't even have the decency to look ashamed of his choices.

Four and Wind were at each other's throats and Warriors was basically growling at Wild, who was screaming about how he always knew Warriors was keeping y/n away from everyone else.

Sky and Hyrule, who were shouting at each other over what they've been doing.

He needed to get them back on track, so with a deep breath, he whistled as loudly as he could.

He began speaking the moment they all looked at him.

'Well ain't this a beautiful example of shit I've ever seen!'

'Enough Veteran!' Time ordered, speaking up for what seemed the first time since this conversation began.

'You've been doing a good job keeping quiet old man, better get back to being a good boy and let the big people talk.' Legend didn't need to look at Time to know his expression was thunderous.

'All of you acting like little BRATS, ready to play 'it's not my fault, it's YOURS.' A humorless laugh escaping him.

'News flash bastards, IT'S ALL YOUR FAULTS.' His grin was more bearing teeth than a grin.

'None of you are innocent.'

He expected Wild to shout at him, maybe Wind or Sky. Hell, the good captain looked ready to tackle him.

Yet it was Four who jumped to his feet, growling at the Veteran.

The smaller boy slipped away from the hands restraining him, rushing forward and grabbed the taller boy's collar, slamming their foreheads together and hissing, 'Just who the hell do you think you are?!?'

'That's a funny question.' He remarked mockingly, making sure not to show that the head bashing hurt. 'Considering how you seem to think you're in the right.'

Four wasn't pleased by his comment. 'I'll take out anyone that lays a malicious hand on her. How dare you even insinuate that I would let such a thing happen!'

'For someone who sounds so sincere, you have a funny way of showing it.' Legend retorted with gritted teeth, never taking his eyes off the shorter man's.

'Acting like you care but when it matters, you're as blind as the rest of us. That's why she got hurt.'

The others surged forward,

'How dare you-"

'That's not true-'

'Damnit Vet, you can't just-'

'SHE NEARLY DIED DAMNIT!!' He shoved Four back, basically throwing him to the floor, having enough of everyone's nonsense.

Everyone stills at his words.

'SHE'S STILL UNRESPONSIVE!! SHE'S ALMOST DIED BECAUSE OF OUR FUCKING RIVALRY!!!' He blazed with impotent rage.

'She's laying in that house, because she got LUCKY. Do you hear me?' He emphasized his point by gesturing in the direction of Wind's house.

'Because had we not gotten our shit together? Had we argued just a moment more? We would have been standing before her GRAVE.'

His face was dark with fury.

'And you have the fucking nerve to tell me I'm in the wrong?' He hissed through clenched teeth.

...

...It is quiet.

The veteran stared right into the blacksmith's eyes, vaguely noticing how it shifted colors rapidly. The way his face twitched, as if physically restraining himself from saying something he would regret.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the others frozen in different positions of action.

Some halfway out of their seats, others reaching for the two of them as if to pull them away from each other.

He focused back on Four, noticing his jaw was tightly clenched.

'WE. NEED. HER. ' he said in a firm voice.

This seemed to make him flinch, but Legend wasn't finished. He took a deep breath and lowered his voice a few notches though he was still partly yelling.

'Not the other way around. SHE doesn't need us.' he slowly shook his head as he looked at every one of them.

'She NEVER needed us.'

Four looked away at that.

'We need her more than we need air in our lungs. Need her more strongly than water or food. ' He focused back on Four and pointed at him.

'And you...you think I'm going to let you, let any of you, let MYSELF, lose her because we couldn't control ourselves?' His chuckle was icy, his smile was unpleasant and full of teeth.

'Oh you don't know me as well as I thought. '

'Because allow me to be as clear as possible when I say, I would slaughter anyone that laid a filthy hand on her' Legend leaned forward, smiling coldly. 'Push me enough, and you'll be on the list.'

'Isn't that extreme..?!' Hyrule exclaimed worriedly, looking at Legend with an uncertain expression.

'Oh...so you wouldn't hurt them if they laid a hand on her? You would actually hesitate to tear off limbs if they forced her to go with them. If they dared to speak her like some cheap whore-'

'How could you even say that-!!!'

'That is uncalled for!'

Legend spread his arms out. 'Well you all might as well be saying you would!!'

'Hold your tongue or I'll cut it!' Wild suddenly snarled, Twilight, visibly tense from Legend' words, was forced to put both hands on Wild.

'I bet you would just stand there while they tried, hm? Stand there while she cries for your help?' He kept pushing, because he needed to. 'Just stand there, watching her shed her tears? Stand there and let. them. touch her? Is that what you would do? Answer me.'

'Don't you DARE say such a thing.' Wild growled, his lips drew back in a snarl.

'You all seem so eager in proving me right, I see nothing wrong with saying this if this is how you really feel.' He masked a scowl with a smirk even as the others began to raise their voices again.

'WHAT THE HELL!'

'You miserable pile of-!!'

'JUST TELL ME YOU'RE READY TO ABANDON HER SO I CAN KEEP HER AWAY FROM YOU ALL!!'

'HOW DARE YOU!!' Warriors roared, suddenly on his feet and in Legend's face.

'You think you can accuse us like this, act like you have the high ground, and expect us to sit here and take it?!' Legend didn't even hesitate shoving him away.

'I can accuse you all I want! Whatever friendship we may still have be damned, BECAUSE YOU'RE AS GUILTY AS I AM!!!' Legend shouted, even as the captain grabbed the front of his tunic and pulled him up to his face again.

'WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE.'

'I'M ONE WHO'S ACTUALLY TRYING TO FIX THIS MESS!! UNLIKE YOU WHO'S READY TO LET HER END UP AS A CORPSE BECAUSE SHE DOESN'T NOTICE YOU THE WAY YOU WANT HER TO!!'

'You miserable, disrespectful, arrogant-

'STOP ACTING LIKE YOU'RE NOT PART OF THE FUCKING PROBLEM YOU STUPID SOLDIER!!'

'SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP!'

'NO! WAKE UP FROM YOUR FUCKING FANTASIES!'

'What gives you the FUCKING RIGHT-'

'BECAUSE I LOVE HER YOU BASTARD!!'

The admittance silenced them swiftly.

But he didn't care at the moment.

He was breathing deeply after saying those words. Face flushed with anger. Fists clenched so tightly, they were bone white.

'I. Love. her.' He hissed to a frozen Warriors.

'I. Need. her.' He grabbed the wrist attached to the had gripping his tunic.

'I. Can't. Lose. Her.' He bared his teeth, slowly shaking his head.

'I won't hesitate.' He voice was a whisper at this point. But it didn't matter. The crackling fire was the only other sound at moment.

'I won't hesitate to kill anyone that takes her away from me.'

...

And that's what he needed them to understand. Needed them to understand that as much as he cared for this group, as much as he's willing to put the effort to fix things...

If they didn't work together?

There would be corpses.

And he wouldn't be one of them.

He wanted to keep screaming at them. Wanted they to hang their heads in shame as he pointed out every flawed thing they've done as of late.

But he..sighed.

'I want..so much.. ' He began, looking straight into Warriors' eyes, a numb sense of calm filling him. 'I want so many impossible things.'

'I want to fall asleep to her peaceful face, and wake up to the sight of her kind smile. I want her to lean against me as she draws, to watch her eyes light up when I show her something new. To see her laugh, hear her hum a tune, to know I'm the reason she glows with happiness.'

He could feel the pale faced captain tremble beneath his grip.

'I want the exact same thing you bastards want...' he took a deep breath, to settle his heart.

'I just want her by my side every single day.'

His voice almost quiet.

'I don't want to lose her.'

Silent stillness enveloped them after Legend had finished speaking, only the sound of the crinkling fire all that was audible at the moment.

Warriors stared at him, swallowing. visibly shaken by the veteran's honesty.

After a beat, Legend slowly pulls the captain's hand off of him.

He was met with no resistance.

He looks at them all. Tired, drained, a headache slowly making itself known.

'So...' he raised an eyebrow, tone dull, 'How about the cook whip us up something.'

Wild blinked, startled by being acknowledged.

'Wha-'

'And while he's at it, our resident healer can check up on our mutual darling.'

Hyrule jolted at the sudden acknowledgment.

'We have a lot to talk about and we can't do it on empty stomachs and worry in our minds.' He grinned sardonically, slowly clapping his hands twice.

'Chop chop people. The night is still young.'

--

--

It took a while for them to speak up after that, because what could one say after such an outburst?

It soothed their hearts when Hyrule returned, saying she was healing nicely. That information helped them calm down while using the time Wild spent cooking to gather their thoughts.

It was difficult to come up with something after the explosive event of earlier.

They were silent when their food was served.

Silent as they ate.

But slowly, very slowly, they did.

Legend pulling the words out of them.

Each grievance, thought and feeling.

It was a snail's pace, but as the Veteran calmly pushed them into speaking, the atmosphere surround the group slowly calmed, the words flowing just a bit easier than before.

'I just don't want her to leave.' Hyrule admitted quietly, looking down at his hands, almost ashamed to admit such a thing.

Warriors sighed. 'I think I speak for all of us when I say the feeling is mutual.'

Murmurs of agreement met his words.

' I don't disagree. It's obvious why, she's...just so kind.' Sky shyly put out, a small blush on his face.

'I mean, when was the last time she even demanded something from any of us?'

Warriors couldn't help but snort. 'I think you mean to say 'when has she ever demanded anything from us?'

'I believe I can answer that.' Time said, speaking up after staying silent for most of the evening.

Four raised an eyebrow. 'Oh, and when was this?'

'When she and I got separated, I injured my leg fighting the Lynel? Back in Legend's era I believe it was.'

'I remember that!' Wind piped in, snapping his fingers and pointing at Time. 'In the lost woods! She was tugging your ear when I reached you guys!'

Time nodded with a chuckle, resting his chin on his hand.

'Got quite the lecture too. She can be...quite stern when pushed enough.'

' That was the first time she saw one of us fight a Lynel wasn't it...' Twilight realized, blinking in comprehension. 'I can't believe I forgot that. She must have been terrified witnessing such a thing.

'Ah, but that was the thing. She was calm when she saw me kill it.'

'So she has thicker skin than an average civilian.' Legend sighed. 'Impressive but not that surprising.'

'Don't get me wrong Vet, she was quite unnerved when she saw the battle but once it was over and she saw my injury, I was the main focus.' He looked down, almost unaware that he was touching the place where the injury once was.

'She could have gone to get one of you guys, I knew she heard you calling out to us, we both did, but she stayed.' He smirked then, 'Pulled out a couple of red potions from her bag too.'

He had the group looking at him in surprise.

'Wait, potions?'

'Who gave her a potion?'

'Wars, was it you?'

'I would remember that!'

'Well well, isn't she well prepared.'

'Looks like she's paying attention to the Vet's paranoia!'

'Ha ha, such flattery.'

'Did she buy a few in town before we swapped eras?'

'Actually she has a stash of them in the event of one of us becoming injured and she's the only one around.' Time interjected, one of his amused grins on his face.

That brought another round of questions.

'She knows how to make potions?!'

'No Wind, we would have seen her.'

'It's not something that could be hidden either.'

'And where did she get the money to buy enough potions?'

'When'd she have the time to even get potions??'

'My question is, how did we not see her get the potions?'

' Did she tell you?' Time snorted softly as the last question was directed at him.

'Matter of fact, yes. Clever answer too, know all those 'silly bets' she got us to agree to?'

He waited for them to nod. ' Well, she's been stashing every rupee she's won from us specifically to buy 'emergency potions'. He answered with a breathy chuckle. 'As for when? She's been buying them from Beedle when we were at stables. And since we also give her money to buy herself stuff...'

'None of us would be the wiser.' Legend finished for him.

'You're serious aren't you...' Warriors couldn't help but say.

'Absolutely.' Time nodded, not able to suppress a grin when he realised the captain's tone was admiring.

'She looked so embarrassed, thought I would be upset with her for ' sneaking behind our backs'. Tried to justify it by saying it 'felt stupid to be the only one in the group who wasn't prepared for some type of emergency.'' A round of chuckles emerged from the group as they all imagined the expression on her face.

'When she saw my injury, she immediately pulled out the potions from her pouch, didn't even pause in shoving a few into my hands and asking me how much pain I was in.' He smiled at the memory. 'That's when I made the foolish mistake of telling her to leave me there and go find one of you.'

' And you lived to tell the tale?' Warriors asked, smirking widely.

'Barely, the glare I receive was quite fierce.' Time didn't even bother to hold the laughter down, still remembering how startled he had been, having such a glare directed at him.

'Like a raging Goddess, she demanded I take better care of myself, or face mothering the likes of which I never saw before.' He looked exasperated, yet his voice was the definition of amused.

' She then proceeded to baby talk me until I agreed.'

Time was not ashamed as the group roared with laughter.

'Are you serious?'

'Poor man!' Warriors reached over and clapped a hand on the older man's shoulder.

'Oh, THAT must have been uncomfortable!' Sky commented between breaths.

' I barely lasted a few sentences before I was pleading for mercy.' He rolled his eyes and huffed through his nose.

'So THAT'S why you were so careful in battle the weeks after.' Hyrule realized, grinning as Time shrugged.

'When I'm threatened with something like THAT? How can I do anything else but obey?'

Wars held his hands up in a shrug, smirk on his face. 'Ah but who are we to question Her divine command?'

'Who are we indeed..' Time murmured with a breathy laugh.

Wild smirked, eyes glinting with glee. 'Speaking of her doing things we don't expect, Vet! Remember when she met Wolfie?'

Legend smirked, even as Twilight send a glare at the cook. 'Rather brave of her, despite never being near an actual wolf before. '

Sky frowned. 'But didn't she look nervous?' Twilight sighed as Legend and Wild let out a laugh.

' You would think! But she apparently didn't want to break any unspoken rules about touching him.' Wild couldn't resist the sharp grin as he eyed the embarrassed rancher. 'You should have seen her when she was given the okay. I'm surprised the mutt was able to escape her constant pets and kisses.'

Twilight wasn't able to keep the blush down when Wind grumbled a very clear 'Lucky bastard.' To the amusement of everyone else, especially those who knew his secret.

They fell into a comfortable silence after that, the sound of the waves a song that filled their ears, the wind playing with their hair as they got lost in thought.

'...Go and bring peace to Hyrule.'

They looked at Wild, he was looking at the sea. 'Every time I went to one of those statues, that's what Hylia would tell me.'

He dug his boot into the sand. 'She would heal me up when I had enough spirit orbs, fill me with vitality, but every time she finished, she would always say those same words.' He grimaced

'And every time, I would think, 'is she healing me because cares, or because I'm just a means to an end?''

Wild shooked his head, never taking his eyes off the sea.

'Even though I've fought evil for her sake. For Zelda's sake. I always felt like she wanted more.' He grimaced.

“I don’t even know what more I could have given…” He admitted, “Always thinking that I’ll one day wake up and realize that I was fated to sacrifice more.'

Then a small smile pulled at his lips, 'But when I'm with (y/n)...I don't feel that weight of responsibility...the weight of those thoughts.' His words were barely above a whisper by the end.

'With her...I feel free.'

For several moments, there was stillness. Watch of them could feel the bite of the ocean breeze on their skin, the heat of the campfire barely able to hold off the chill and darkness surrounding them.

"She said she was proud of me..' Wild whispered, "Said that every breath I took, every moment I opened my eyes to greet the day, was rebellion against what destiny, what Ganon, had wanted.'

'She saw me, a failure of a hero, and said she was proud of me,' He whispered, unable to trust himself with anything louder. 'How could I possibly love another when she says such things with so much honesty?'

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

'How could I go on, following Hylia's command blindly, when (y/n) comes to me with those kind eyes and says She just wants me to be happy?'

'Hylia does not want champions.' Time shook his head, smirking bitterly. 'She merely wants toy soldiers.'

Sky's eyes flew up to the look at eldest of the group.

'Surely that's a bit much, Hylia..has done what she could for us.'

'Who is Hylia? A being who seeks soldiers to clean up her mess? A being who only expects us to obey?' Time interjected.

Sky swallowed. 'But..she's assisted us-'

Time shook his head. 'No, she simply made sure we survived long enough to eliminate her enemies.'

Wild frowned, rubbing the back of his neck. 'When you think about it, he's right. We have never worshiped Hylia because we wanted to. But because we were obligated to. Because most of us were raised to believe it was an honor.'

He looked at Sky. 'But...isn't a goddess of benevolence supposed to be someone who is kinder than a mortal could comprehend? Someone who cares for her servants for no other reason than because we love her as much as she loved us?'

Twilight smiled bitterly. 'A goddess like that is someone I wouldn't mind serving. '

'Isn't that why we love Her so?' Legend said softly.

Warriors looked at him oddly. '(y/n) isn't a goddess Legend.'

Legend looked at him with carefully impassive expression. 'But we want her to be.'

They all looked anywhere but at him.

'You've all already admitted it. Even if you don't want to say it.' Legend smirked.

'Vet-'

''Who are we to question Her divine command?'' He repeated, smirking when the captain's mouth snapped shut.

'We all want her to be.' Legend repeated, catching Hyrule's eye and staring him down.

-Admit it.- His eyes said. Hyrule flinching at being seen through. Wanting to deny the silent accusation.

...But his heart wouldn't let him deny such a thing either.

'...(y/n) would make a better goddess than hylia.' He admitted, looking down.

Sky snap his attention to the traveler, his eyes slightly wide.

'Hyrule-' Legend cut Sky off, looking right at the skyloftian.

'Can you deny that she's already better than hylia?' Sky seemed to struggle with an answer, but Legend didn't wait for an answer.

'Is She not kinder, sweeter, more beautiful than anyone else? She never asks for anything other than our safety and happiness. Becomes upset when we try to do more than we can handle and tries to actually help us whenever she can. '

Twilight sighed, but nodded in agreement. 'Her presence is like a soothing warmth that never falters. I don't think I've ever had someone who's presence relieved me the way Hers does.'

He grimaced. 'Not even Hylia herself can claim such a thing.'

A glance at Sky, causing him to grimace and look away.

'Someone with a beautiful soul like Hers...' Hyrule whispered, folding his hands in front of his chest, almost like he was praying.

'I..I could worship someone like Her everyday without regret.' He looked away, as if shameful of his admittance.

'..What's wrong with that?' Hyrule looked at who spoke.

'Wars?'

Warriors did not look at him, staring at the ground. But his face had shifted into an expression of thoughtfulness. 'What's wrong with wanting to worship her? '

Hyrule's face flushed red. '..it...it seems a bit inappropriate to-'

'Because we're supposed to worship Hylia?' He looked up at him. 'Farore? Nayru? Din?'

'...I-'

Wind frowned, looking around. ' Why can't we worship who we desire? Worship someone we CAN trust?'

Twilight bit his lip, shaking his head. 'That's too much of a dream to even CONSIDER-'

Legend barked a laugh.

'Dreams are only dreams until we make them a reality.'

'...!' He chuckled at the shocked looks he received from most of them.

'You said it better than I ever could Hyrule. Someone with as beautiful of a soul as Her's is someone we could worship everyday of our lives without regret.'

'But we can't-'

'Why? Because we're Hylia's 'Champions'? I don't know if you remember this, but we've done our duties, defeated Ganon and the only reason I'll not complaining about THIS journey anymore is because it brought us Her.'

'Legend-'

'And don't we in a way worship her already?'

Wild tilted his head. 'What do you mean?'

He raised a finger, 'Don't we find joy in caring for her? Providing for her? Is that not paying tribute?' A second finger, 'Don't we defend her when danger is near? Cutting down every enemy that come near her? Is that not raising our swords in her name?'

He leaned forward, A manic glint flashing in his eyes. A third finger was raised. 'Do we not find joy when she whispers our name, do we not find peace when we whisper Hers? Is that not devotion? Tell me otherwise and I'll concede.'

But no one said anything.

No one wanted to.

Because they agreed with his words so much.

'She deserves someone to protect her...' Hyrule whispered, as if to himself, as if to convince himself to listen to the words being spoken to him.

'She deserves US to protect Her.' Legend corrected, his smile was all teeth, but it wasn't malicious.

'We've defeated literal evil. We're the best people to protect Her.' Wind added, his eyes matching the Veteran's. Soon matching the eyes of all of them.

'And doesn't She deserve the very best, after everything She's done for us?' Legend spread his arms out, smirk on his face. Sky smiled, looking at his hands, laughing softly, shaking his head.

'I...suppose you're right...' he slowly admitted, his shoulder releasing tension, almost relieved.

'I..can't see anyone else providing for her the way we can.'

'We have the resources...' Four slowly added, a note of mania woven through the blacksmith's words, 'We have much sway in our eras and what we don't have, I'm reasonably sure we know someone who can provide it for us.'

'We've faced more than enough adversaries to be able to counter any situation.' Warriors smirked, sitting back, arms crossed.

'The safest place is with us.' Time said, a sense of finality in his words.

And for the first time in so long, they all were united with such a decision.

It didn't matter if there wasn't a drop of divinity in her.

It didn't matter if she wasn't able to use magic or blessed by any spirit.

She was not a goddess in the way they knew. But only a fool would deny the beautiful divinity that radiated from Her heart.

She was Divine to them.

A presence that was not unlike an ocean of warmth that wanted to drown them in love and safety.  Eager to drive them mad, to drive them to protect Her happiness.

And they would drown in that ocean willingly.

She didn't even realize what she was doing to them.

She didn't realize that the very person She was was causing them to crave Her gentle touch, Her beautiful smiles, Her arms wrapped around them.

She didn't realize any of this.

Because it was as natural as breathing to Her.

How many times was Her kindness going to steal the breath from their lungs?

How many times was Her gentle voice going to soothe them when they wake from their nightmares, Her hands wiping the tears from their face?

How many times will they crave the chance to kiss away Her tears but only be able to brush them aside.

But it was alright.

They loved Her so much.

A Goddess of their own making.

One that they would worship freely, not like how obligation and duty forced their hand with Hylia.

Hylia demanded their loyalty.

(y/n) merely asked for their continued happiness.

Hylia commanded they fight in her name.

(y/n) requested they remained safe and healthy.

Hylia wanted heroes.

(y/n) wanted only them.

She wanted them.

She trusted them.

She cared for them.

She was the one they wanted to serve.

They fulfilled their duties to Hylia.

They no longer were obligated to serve her.

But (y/n)...She was so fragile compared to the rest of them. Having lived in a world with no monsters, no calamities or destiny.

She needed to be protected.

She needed them to protect Her.

They were the only ones who could protect Her.

They needed to unite. To stand side by side, as a shield against the monsters, against anyone that would dare take Her from them.

They couldn't fight amongst themselves anymore.

They couldn't allow Her to come to harm ever again.

All this time wasted fighting when they could have been protecting Her. Making her happy. Keeping her safe. How foolish of them.

But no longer.

To protect their Reason for breathing, there could be no room for trickery or lies between each other. Only for those that stood between them and Her.

The sun was rising, washing away the rivalries and dissonance of the past night, and the rays of dawn shining upon renewed unity and brotherhood.

She is their's; a Gift that pure chance had bestowed upon them.'

They would protect Her. Together.

They would protect their Goddess.

No one will ever take Her away from them.

No One.

[leakyrocktarot]

What are epidermis pedestrians? First time I'm coming across that word... And your blog so I'm kinda trying to navigate here

An epidermis pedestrian is a "Ski*n W*lker" We don't say the name because it can bring them to you. In the spirit world names are super important and when an entity has your name it can have power over you, and vice versa. Epidermis walkers are beings that can slip into the skin of literally anything to stalk and hunt its prey. An epidermis walker can even take the form of a "Not Deer" Though they are two different things, they can be of the same entity. They originate from Navajo culture, and are called The Yee Naldlooshii and are often times mistaken for wendigos. In Navajo culture, epidermis walkers are derived from ’ánt’įįhnii, which in our terms would be a witch. It is said that after initiation an ’ánt’įįhnii has the ability to become a Yee Naldlooshii. Not all witches are epidermis pedestrians, but all epidermis pedestrians are witches. It is important to note that not all witches are evil, not all of them practice baneful magic, they are a part of two different worlds. "In some stories, people who have attained the highest rank are called clizyati, which means pure evil. This can be achieved by killing a close blood relative, incest, necr0phili4, or other culturally taboo and evil acts. Upon completing one or more of these acts is said to destroy their humanity and allow them to become fully initiated in the way of witchery."

An epidermis pedestrian can take the form of a coyote, wolf, fox, eagle, owl, or crow, but they have the ability to change into whatever animal they need for whatever purpose they need it for. Again I will say Do Not Say The Name Out Loud, Ever. It calls them to you as if you have a target on your back, like being marked by a hunter. I made the mistake of doing it, and there was this bird that followed me for days and it was unlike any other bird. I shit you not, it flew in circles, upside down, and even backwards. I swear to you sometimes it looked like it was hovering in one place. Take note of how animals walk and act around you. If it is a predatory animal and it clearly doesn't think of you as prey, it is most likely a epidermis pedestrian. They often take the high ground, so if you see an animal following you especially from a high place, it most likely will be an epidermis walker. Pay attention to how the body moves, unless they are at the highest level it will always reveal itself by being clumsy. The most obvious example is the countless stories about the deer who turned around, but their legs stayed behind. Sometimes it may walk in a shamble, or jutt around, or even have distorted and crooked limbs. If you see one and you look it in the eye, their eyes will glow yellow whether it is day or night. They can only be found in the desert as that is the only place where they can strive. In the rare case of names, epidermis walkers are the only being that will fear your name. If you call out your given name, it will have to wait until the resonance dissipates. They don't have names, they all consider themselves to be a part of the "Shift".

Below the cut is a clip of a person talking about the things their grandfather has told them about epidermis walkers, how to spot them, and more about them.

Skinwalkers typically live in caves where man cannot reach, or on the tops of mesas. Skinwalkers, while being able to shift, must assume their human form during rest. They are still vulnerable to human patterns of existence. So they seek out places of rest that are seemingly unattainable to humans. The Utes would use this to their advantage, and climb nearby cliffs to catch or kill skin walkers when they least expected it. NOTE: Skinwalkers when sleeping are at their MOST powerful. In the state of rest, the strength to shift circulates through their body over and over again. If they are disturbed during rest, they are at their strongest and can kill at an instant. My grandfather told a story of a particularly Nasty group of two skin walkers who killed several children in a Ute village. A group of brave warriors tracked them to a set of cliffs, where there was a giant half dome cave about 200 feet up. The bravest warriors of the Ute tribe in the region snuck up the cliff, and when they reached the half dome cave, they opened fire on the two skin walkers. The skin walkers were not to be deterred, and instantly killed 3 warriors with their bare hands. The remaining Ute warriors kept firing, and finally the skin walkers lunged toward the edge of the cliff, telling the warriors that they would come back for them another day. The skin walkers ran to the end of the cliff and jumped...but The Utes were already two steps ahead. For weeks they had been bringing in dry brush to the valley below the cave, and by the time the skinwalkers jumped, nearly 3 acres of deadfall was piled strategically throughout the valley trees to look natural. The minute the skin walkers left the cliff, the Utes below lit the pitch-covered dead fall, and when the skin walkers landed, they were quickly trapped in a giant raging bonfire. The skin walkers howled so loudly, that it was said the wind whistled like wolves in that valley for another 50 years.

Skinwalkers sloppily shed fur and you can use it to summon them. When skin walkers turn back, it's just as ugly as when they turn. Instead of cleanly shifting back into human form, skin walkers often leave behind chunks of fur, sometimes up to 6 inches long and 2 inches wide, called "bent skin". If you find "bent skin", you can lure a skinwalker by blowing on the chunk of fur into a fire. The skinwalker will instantly follow the scent to your fire, without question, instinctively. The Ute's would use this method whenever they could, but it was very rare to find "bent skin" without actively knowing the footsteps of a skinwalker.

"The White Wind". That is the expression the Utes used to describe the effects of speaking into quartz rocks to a skinwalker. Skinwalkers are greatly weakened by the voice vibrations of a quartz rock. Medicine Men would carry with them giant quartz rocks, and set them upon a cliff to send out warnings to all nearby skin walkers never to come near their camp. This could only be done when the evidence of skin walkers in the immediate area of the camp could be found. It could not be used as a blanket method to ward off would be attacker skin walkers. The Utes thought that quartz resonated with souls, and that if spoken to with the proper countenance from a Medicine Man or Warrior, that the quartz rock could speak directly to the soul of a person or animal. There was one story about a particularly aggressive skinwalker who chose to stand outside the camp in Elk Form to intimidate the tribe. An elder Medicine Man walked to a nearby rock face, put a giant quartz stone on top, and sang the name of the most recent victims to skin walkers over and over again. Within a matter of hours, the elk began violently kicking, turning from human, to elk, and back again, until it finally started taking the shape of the victims who it killed. The Medicine Man then commanded the skinwalker to turn back to its evil elk form, and jump off a cliff to its final death. The next morning the tribe woke up and found the skinwalker in human form split in half over a pointed stump.

If you can find a skinwalker trail, usually characterized by animal footprints with unusual spacings and variations (example: Deer hoof prints that all of a sudden emerge into 10 feet gaps), you can weaken a skinwalker greatly by putting fish remains in its prints. Animals from the water are highly poisonous to skin walkers in the spiritual sense because they represent water, the killer of the desert. The scent of the fish or other water animal will approach the heel of the skinwalker, and cause him to weaken the more he walks. Warriors who found skin walker trails would alert the tribe, and they would spend days fishing our a local river and then preparing the remains to be used against the skin walkers. The Utes would then follow the footprints for miles, leaving fish rot in each skinwalker indentation, and pouring a mixture of water and fish oil near any pissing sites. Sometimes if they followed the skinwalker closely enough, they would find it wandering half dead in the desert and then kill it or capture it. It is important to note that the use of fish in weakening a skinwalker can ONLY be used when following it. It has to do with the skin walkers sense of smell. They smell for miles both forward and backward, and the fish stench, in order to exact harm, must come subtly from behind, otherwise it will be detected and avoided ASAP. So in summary, one cannot catch a fish, post it at their campsite, and expect to ward off a skinwalker for good. One has to use the fish scent carefully to eventually send the skinwalker into ruin.

Skinwalker Ritual Sites. Skinwalkers have religious sites all across the southwestern desert where they congregate from time to time, (no one knows how often), but they know it happens. These religious gatherings usually take place on the tops of mesas or in secret caves only accessible by skin walkers. At these gatherings the most diabolical happenings occur, innocent captives are eaten alive for sport, children are sacrificed, humans are forced to fight to the death, and abducted women are forced to bear every depraved sex act ever conceived - all for the skinwalkers' entertainment. The Utes told a story of the operator of a Spanish Mine who stumbled upon a viewing of such a ritual. The Spaniard had come to them to trade for supplies and had told them he knew of a skinwalker religious festival coming up that he wanted to sneak in to view it from afar. The Utes pleaded with him not to go, and to head back to his homeland for his own safety and the safety of his men. The Spaniard was far too stubborn to listen to a mere "Native" and snuck into a viewing of the ritual. Weeks later, they ran into the same Spaniard. He had aged at least 30 years. His hair was lightning white, and his skin had been charred by fire. The Utes gave him some water. He tried to speak, but each time he did his whole body trembled. Upon trying to speak for a third time, sweat poured out all over his body. But it was not the kind of sweat that would soak on a warrior's back after battle. It was blood coming out of his pores, because sweat had given up. The Spaniard died seconds later, unable to communicate what ungodly things he had seen at the skinwalker ritual. He didn't have to communicate -- the Utes knew.

Skinwalker Ritual Sites - The Ute Response. 3 Generations before the Spaniard died from sheer panic and fear over the Skinwalker ritual, the Utes had their own tragic experience with it. Four women, including two of the wives of the chief had disappeared within a month. Through dreams the two wives of the chief had reached out to the medicine man to let them know that they were being held captive in a giant room underneath a mesa. The Medicine man and the chief assembled all the warriors in the tribe approached the mesa, which was over 100 miles away. When they approached the mesa they saw a sea of bones, which became more pronounced with each step. What used to be dried and withered animal ribs soon became human hips, skulls, and spines. The plants were dead for nearly half a mile in every direction. The Medicine man and the warriors came up with a plan. The warriors would distract the skin walkers, while the medicine man and his team would build a giant lightning rod on top of the mesa. The warriors and the medicine men went their separate ways and carried out the plan. When the warriors found the cave beneath the Mesa, they formed a perimeter around it and waited in the bushes until its rightful king returned. When the skin walkers came out of the brush and into the cave, they opened fire, from all sides, everywhere, nearly painting the mesa with arrows. Before their arrow fire could finish, the Medicine man at the top of the mesa, grabbed a quartz stone and directed lightning to hit his 4 story tall quartz tower. The lightning hit the tower with such a force that the Mesa cracked in half, and covered half of the tribe in rubble. It is said that the skinwalkers came out roasting alive, with smoke pouring out of their eyes, ears and mouth, covered in charred black skin. The captured native women came out soon after, unscathed, with only a few cuts and bruises on them. The warriors yelled for the Medicine man to come down, that they had been victorious. The Medicine Man then yelled back: "No victory until dust...." The Medicine man proceeded to conduct 50 more strikes of lightning on the Mesa. With each strike it crumbled, until finally it was reduced to a small sand hill. The medicine man was barely able to walk, so succumbed with forcing the lightning strikes when a warrior approached him and said "Look." The Medicine Man looked and saw a beautiful white bird landing on the small sand hill that used to be the Mesa. The Medicine Man, then grabbed the bird and snapped its neck. The bird turned into a muscular human. The Medicine man said: "Let's find his sand hill." This medicine man who was named Fist of Lightning and Death, went on to destroy 4 mesas, and 3 giant caves, but in his words only "chased the wind" of the skin walkers.

[bookstantrash]

A/N: Special shoutout for @perseusannabeth @thewayshedreamed and @arin1030 for blessing my year with their amazing one shots/multi chapter updates even though 2021 has barely began. Your beautiful writing made me take a break from frying my brain with studying.

So here it’s, Part Six. Enjoy!

In which she makes a friend, Part Six

“Arms up. Feet apart” Nesta followed his instruction, getting in position “I want you to focus all your power in your fists. Redirect the flow to them.”

It was not Cassian’s voice who Nesta heard. No, it was the voice of the Lord of Bloodshed. Of the Commander of the Illyrian Armies.

They had been trying for an hour, maybe two. Today was the second time in the week since they’d first started training together that Cassian was trying to teach Nesta how to maintain a constant flow of her powers. To not let her spend herself with one killing blow like she had done with Hybern.

It was hard. It was impossible.

Nesta had no ideia of what she was doing. She couldn’t tame the beast inside her to behave and do what she wanted to. She felt stupid while silently willing her fists to gather that blinding light she had fired at Hybern or even the silver flames that appeared when she lost control.

Nothing had happened in two days.

Not to mention she also had to think about her fighting stance, balance, Cassian counting out loud while she punched, all the while keeping her grip on her power.

And she had not been able to confront Cassian about the troubles at camp that he was keeping from her. That only made her more annoyed and restless.

“Focus Nesta” Nesta snapped back to attention at his words “Your figure is excellent but your mind is far away. If you get distracted on the battlefield you can get hurt. Or worse, killed”

“I am paying attention. If you could only be more precise about what exactly I’m supposed to be doing—”

Cassian laughed, which only served to ignite that fire that seemed to roar whenever they were in the same room.

“My powers are totally different from yours sweetheart. You have an enormous amount of it too, from the little I’ve seen” his hazel eyes scanned her, as if he could see beneath her skin and pinpoint where her power resided inside of her “But you lack control”

“Aren’t you supposed to be some legendary warrior? With seven siphons and all that” she spat back, wanting to jab him at his poor job at teaching her, but she only earned a feline smile back.

“Have you been paying attention to me Nes? I’m flattered” he placed a hand on his chest, feigning surprise.

Nesta gritted her teeth. Most of the time, she didn’t know whether to throttle him or kiss him. Sometimes both.

“Whatever you’re doing right now sweetheart, keep it up” Cassian said, amazement lacing his words.

Nesta raised her fists, which had fallen beside her body during her spat with Cassian, and she realised that she had done it. The silver flames that sometimes appeared were dancing along her hands, turning the air around them hot, although they did not burn her.

Nesta allowed herself to feel proud. She had done it. She could feel her power flowing all through her body down to her hands.

Raising her fists, Nesta got into position like Cassian had taught her.

And she punched him.

Cassian allowed her flaming fist to get dangerously close to his face before he dodged it, sidestepping. She aimed again. And again. Until they were dancing a dangerous dance, Cassian blocking and avoiding her fists, while Nesta concentrated in keeping the flames alive and remembering the correct steps.

She thought she had finally caught him, feigning a punch towards his face while actually aiming at his gut — a move Cassian had recently showed her — when he took her arm in an arm lock, pulling her body flush towards his.

“That was good” he breathless said, so close Nesta could see the green in his eyes “But you still are too slow in the transition. And you look at where you want to hit me. That’s what gave you away”

Nesta opened her mouth the retort, but no sound came out. She got conscious of how close they were. Of how Cassian didn’t seem bothered by her flaming fists.

She didn’t know whether she was feeling hot due to the exercise, the flames or the proximity with him.

“You are always surprising me, you know that?” Cassian murmured, his breath sending chills down her spine.

She was burning. She couldn’t breath or think, her thoughts running fast and incoherently around her head. She could only look at him.

She wanted to pull him closer.

She wanted to push him away.

She wanted to kiss him.

She wanted to scream at him for making her feel this way.

Nesta wanted and wanted and felt everything too deeply. His body against hers. His breath, mingling with hers. His grip on her army getting loose. His deep hazel eyes like molten chocolate, his pupils dilating and his gaze flicking from her eyes to her mouth and—

A bird’s cry shook Nesta out of her trance, and she quickly put some distance between her and Cassian, her flames flicking out.

Dangerous. It was dangerous to allow herself to get close to him. To let him slip between the bars in which she caged her heart.

“I think that’s enough for today” Cassian said, nervously clearing his throat “You— Are you going to train with me and Kaelin today?”

Nesta trained with Cassian everyday in the mornings, Kaelin joining then in the afternoons after her own training was done. Cassian had proposed to Nesta that she practice in the afternoon only three times a week for now. He said it was best not to demand so much of her body in the beginning.

But he always asked her if she would join then or not. Even if it was the day all three of them were supposed to train together.

“I’m fine” Nesta managed to say, grateful that her voice did not give away how she was feeling “I’ll be here”

Cassian only nodded, his eyes looking everywhere but at her. If Nesta didn’t know any better, she’d think he was just as shaken as her.

“Azriel...Azriel is coming to Windhaven tomorrow” Cassian blurted out, before Nesta could excuse herself.

Nesta only raised an eyebrow in question, as if to say ‘go on, I’m listening’

“He’s going to stay here four days, maybe a week. We have some... some matters to discuss”

“Matters about the Illyrians rebelling?” she asked, taking him by surprise.

“How—”

“Just because you tell me nothing it does not means nobody else does” she snapped.

“It has nothing to do with you” he snarled and Nesta raised her chin in defiance.

“I think it does if I live here now”

“I didn’t want you here”

Nesta felt as if she had been punched in the gut. She felt that spark that had been slowly coming back to life vanish, turning into cinders.

As if it never was there.

“Wait, I— I didn’t mean it like that” Cassian desperately said, seeing the change in her mood.

“Of course you did” she snorted “I’m no more of a burden to you than I was to my sister. I understand”

“No, Nesta it’s not that” he ran his hand through his hair, freeing it from the bun that held it “Please believe me”

Nesta only remained quiet, eyeing him. Trying to decide if he spoke the truth or was pitying her.

“You have suffered enough. You have given enough. You don’t need the weight of another war on your shoulders. I—” he took a sharp breath “I cannot bear to see you go through it all again. I thought it was best for you to not know about it”

“It was not your decision to make!” she spat at him “You should have thought about that before banishing me here!”

“I told Feyre this was a stupid ideia! But she was desperate!! She blames herself for all the dangers you and Elain went through and she had no ideia what to do!!”

They were both screaming now, each one louder then the other.

“Sending you to the human side was off limits given the human queens! The other courts are civil at best with the Night Court! And I doubt you would want to be sent to another court were you knew no one and they were all wary of you” he laughed in disbelief “At least here I could— you would know someone”

“It was not her decision to make” Nesta said, her powers raging inside of her, all control from a few moments ago gone.

“I know that. I can—” he shook his head, trying to find the right words “I can try to call in a few favours. Maybe Helion...the Day Court is beautiful and his library even more spectacular. Or Dawn. They’re neutral ground and you seemed to like the last time we were there. For sure not Winter. I think you’ve had enough of this dreadful weather”

Cassian started to mumble to himself, trying to come up with a solution.

“Would not your High Lady need to approve it?” poison filled Nesta’s word, angry of how she had been banished by her youngest sister before “Don’t you report back to her about me?”

“She only asks how you are doing. If you’re eating. If you came out of your room. And I don’t say nothing else besides it. Feyre worries. She feels guilty of what she did” his eyes meet hers “She would not have to know. You could go, and I would only say that you were well when she asked. You don’t need to stay here Nesta. I won’t be your jailer. I have already failed you enough”

And Nesta knew — be it due to the raw emotion in Cassian’s voice, the way he looked so distraught, his hazel eyes pleading at her — she knew he was telling the truth. That he would get her out of Illyria. Would let her have her way.

She was tempted to say yes.

To say yes and run far far away from the eyes that seemed to judge and burn and condemn her, all the way from Velaris.

But then she thought of Kaelin. She thought of all the healers, the females and children at camp.

If a civil war was to break out, who would defend them? Who would make sure they’d not be in the middle of the cross fire? Who would make sure Kaelin was not found out?

And Nesta made her decision.

“I will stay” she declared, making Cassian look at her in surprise.

“But I have a condition” she added “You will not hide anything else from me. You will tell me what’s happening here. What’s happening with the queens. With the other courts. I won’t stay in the dark any longer.”

“I promise you Nesta Archeron,” he said, his voice full of emotion “I will tell you even the Mother’ secrets if you want to”

~•~

Nesta spent the rest of the day lost in thought. Her conversation with Cassian — or screaming match to put it more truthfully — had opened some old wounds. Wounds she had thought to be already closed.

How foolish had she been.

Her quietness did not go unnoticed. Jacira was more talkative than usual, trying to cheer Nesta up and make her come out of her shell by any means, not caring if Esmée reprimanded her. But even the head healer took notice of Nesta’s mood.

“We don’t have much work today. You can deliver this tonic for me and then retire for the day” Esmée had said, a tad softer than usual “Now shoo! This won’t be delivered if you stay here looking at me”

And so Nesta found herself standing in the small craftsman center of the camp, walking towards a wooden building, its glass window identifying it as a clothier. The bell above the leaded-glass door tinkled as Nesta entered, warning of her presence.

“The shop is closed” a sharp voice said “Come back later”

Nesta looked at the female behind the polished counter. She had dark hair, which was braided in a style similar to the one Nesta favoured, offering a clean view of her sharp brown eyes. She wore a simple green dress, and Nesta noticed the female’s wings. The scars on them.

“I didn’t come to buy anything” Nesta walked towards the counter, placing down the package containing the small vial “I came to deliver this. I take you ordered this from Esmée?”

The female nodded, taking the package.

“So you’re the High Fae who’s working alongside the healers now” Emerie scanned Nesta, eyeing her pointed ears.

“What of it” she replied, straightening her spine, a mask of cold boredom on her face.

“Nothing” Emerie raised her chin, her posture matching Nesta’s “No wonder you decided to help them. They’re nice, and even Esmée’s presence is more pleasant than staying all day alone”

Nesta tried to calm down the fire inside of her, raging at the implication. She didn’t need her powers getting out of control here, destroying the store and hurting the female.

“Males are such emotionless creatures, don’t you agree? ” she added, waiting for a reaction back “I hope you gave the Commander hell for leaving you by yourself like that”

“He’s not— we’re not a couple” was Nesta’s only reply.

Emerie intrigued her. She was not like the other females Nesta had meet. She could recognise the fire inside of her, meeting Nesta’s gaze without fear.

She reminded Nesta of how she had once been. Before the war. Before she was Made.

“You aren’t?” Emerie raised an eyebrow, shrugging “Either way, I for one know I wouldn’t leave a guest unattended for such period.”

Nesta was excused from answering when the door opened, a familiar voice greeting them.

“Emerie, I finished with my deliveries, is there anything else I—” Kaelin stopped mid sentence, seeing the scene before her eyes.

“Kaelin, what are you doing here?” Nesta asked, surprised to see the girl.

“I do deliveries for Emerie sometimes. To the families who live too far or are too poor” the young girl stretched her wings a bit, shaking off the cold “Esmée let you go earlier today”

“She asked me to deliver something and call it a day” she inclined her head towards Emerie.

“Well, it’s a good thing then! You can stay for tea with me and Emerie!”

Nesta felt her cheeks redden.

“Kaelin, you can’t just invite me to someone else’s house!” she hissed, shocked at Kaelin’s boldness, her old manners classes coming to mind.

“I’m not bothered” Emerie said, coming from behind the counter “I can have some kind of courtesy towards those who I want to”

Kaelin grinned and opened a side door with a staircase — which lead to Emerie’s home in the upper floor of the shop — already moving up.

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to” Emerie added, seeing Nesta hesitate “Kaelin tends to act before he thinks. But I know he’s a good kid, so I won’t be offended if you choose to go back to your General’s home”

Nesta thought about saying how Cassian was not her General. How his home was not hers. How she had a thousand thoughts screaming in her mind. How her powers were singing beneath her veins and how afraid she was of losing control.

But she was even more curious about Emerie, a female who did not bow like the others, the sole owner of a shop in such a place as Illyria.

“I hope you have biscuits” she choose to say instead, feeling hungry for the first time in long while, the thought of eating not scaring her in the least.

•

Tag list: @sayosdreams @thewayshedreamed @sjm-things @perseusannabeth @arin1030 @caotica-e-quieta @vidalinav @swankii-art-teacher @ireallyshouldsleeprn @duskandstarlight @greerlunna @thegoddessaltenia @dayanna-hatter @verypaleninja @awesomelena555 @courtofjurdan @allilal @sensitiveillyrian @moe8 @illyrianwitchling13 @silvernesta @bri-loves-sunflowers @queenestarcheron

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[garrothromeave]

the hell is mystreet season 6??

(warning, long post ahead)

ok so before i start this

1) ive never posted shiiiit on tumblr before so watch me suffer, im just here to talk about stuff that my friends who dont know anything about aphmau have to listen to me rant about for hours on end

2) i havent seen mystreet in like years (except season 3, i watch that frequently since im laurance and shadow knight deprived) so please bear with me because i might be completely wrong on this lol. it’s just like, pointing out things i remember

3) im sure someones already talked about this but who cares

4) im gonna do this stupid thing where i just explain myself a bit at first, if you dont want to read that just skip to the part where you see “the actual thingy:” in bold and italics 

5) mild disclaimer; i am completely aware that jessica is not a professional writer. i know that she did her best to appeal to her fans, and honestly, respect for that. while this post will come off as aggressive and probably look like hate, that’s not my intention in the slightest. it’s just... intense criticism. im sure y’all probably already know that, but yeah, just stating that anyways. i do believe that jess is doing her best, and in no way do i want to dismiss any hard work she’s done. that being said; prepare for a very strongly opinionated post.

haha watch there be 10000+ typos in this making me look like a complete dumbass

ok here we go 

one of the main reasons i stopped watching aphmau back in 2017 was the mess that was season 4. like, in the first few episodes of the emerald secret, i thought “woah!! this is kinda cool, im a sucker for mystery!” because of course i was, it was something new and something exciting. the only problem i had with it at the time was kim, but that’s just because i always found her annoying and out of place. i just didn’t understand why garroth dragged her along and honestly i still don’t to this day BUT, moving on.

anyways, as the season progressed, 13 year old me was of course just “:0!!” the entire time--that is, up until the reveal of the main villain. i remember watching the episode, seeing the reveal of ein, and then stopping. like, just for a quick break, but i was still just overwhelmingly disappointed. like, and this was the time when pdh was airing and ein just got made alpha (i think?) and i had really really liked eins character in pdh. either way, that really sucked and actually opened my eyes to a lot of things.

one of the main things bein’ the fact that this was supposed to be a slice of life kinda series that decided to take a turn to a more edgy kinda approach. which, i guess i regularly wouldnt mind? but seeing as mcd was kinda bein neglected at the time it just didnt sit right with me. BUT WHATEVER, point is i stopped watching mystreet all together at the end of season 4.

like, a whole year later my brother tells me that shit’s getting intense in season 5 + 6 of mystreet, and my brilliant self decided to give it a shot--but i refused to watch all of season 5, so i only stepped in when ein made an appearance. so whenever that was, that’s where i picked up because i didnt care enough to see 

and y’know--i honestly didn’t hate it at first. in fact, i found it oddly cool. it wasn’t enough to get me into aphmau again, but it was enough to where i was intrigued. i dont know why, but i never watched the finale, so i didnt see the ending until just a few weeks ago--but back then, i thought it was neat. looking back on it however... im just so confused. 

side note: only got back into aphmau this time around because of mcd. mainly because like, i adore the first season and the first half of the second season. and being nearly 18 now, im a lot more appreciative of plot and well-written characters n junk. 

the actual thingy:

ok back on track. imma stop spilling out my story of how i got back into aphmau, and lets just skip to what rewatching mcd made me realize of season 6′s plot and shit:

-emmalyn. how the fuck does ghost even remotely exist? if she’s emmalyn as claimed, then why have we already seen emmalyn in the mystreet universe alive? look i get that creators can do whatever they want with their stories but at the same time please provide some sort of explanation good god. and maybe they did and i just havent seen it, so if there is one--let me know. but until that day imma just sit here confused as fuck

-ok so imma just be real, the whole ‘ultima’ thing is just... not great. in my opinion, anyways. like... i saw someone mention this in another post, but if this ultima stuff was like, a really big deal, why isnt it mentioned in mcd? though i suppose since its a curse of sorts, it could be later on past the time period in which mcd takes place--but even then, how did it manage to make its way into aaron’s family bloodline? 

-WHY IS EVERYONE AT STARLIGHT ITS JUST SO CONVINIENT like what happened to this place being the most expensive shit on the planet or whatever, and how the gang happens to run into like, the werewolf trio and blaze and kai and guy and nate all of these people like god damn life doesnt WORK LIKE THAT 

-im sorry but turning people into relics? thats... thats the best you could come up with? plus, like, how does that even work? in mcd it’s established that relics are separate entitles that choose their wielder, based on a ‘personal’ connection (being a descendent of a previous wielder) or if they’re a good match personality and (i think?) moral wise. so the whole turning-people-into-relics doesnt make much sense to be honest. 

-irene really over here using her god powers to only keep her friends alive like god damn not a great god if you ask me 

-can i talk about how incredibly predictable aphmaus death was? like i just kinda sat there waiting for it to happen and when it did i literally went “haha! wonder when she’ll be revived” because god forbid we actually kill off characters 

-when aphmau + demon warlock fought in the irene dimension there was no passage of time whatsoever in the real world whiiiiiiiiich really bothers me because they fought in there for at least a few minutes

-speaking of aphmau and the demon warlocks fight does it bother anyone else that it had to be aaron who took over the fight?? like we get it hes the big protector blah blah blah but god damn it wouldve been cooler if aphmau had fought this battle as her. aaron fighting this battle was so underwhelming

-...love. like, thats the only thing thats needed to break out of a forever potion? love? LIKE YEAH, GOOD GUYS GOTTA WIN SOMEHOW, but its just so cliche and overdoneeee

-oh yeah and also when travis went bonkers and became the demon warlock or whatever, why’d he only take over katelyn and garroth?? like, zane had been influenced by the potions in the past as well? DONT GET ME WRONG--i do love some good brother edge, but uh, the demon warlock was just bein kinda a dumbass by not possessing zane too just sayin’

-can aaron please go to fucking jail for mass murder now like holy shit, he just got sent home on a fuckin boat. also why did blaze forgive him for killing him thats not even remotely realistic. then again, nothing in mystreet has ever been realistic when it comes to characters and motives and personalities, (cough katelyn being actually abusive and travis being an actual pervert) but yknow whatever

-katelyn and kawaii chan literally added nothing to the plot whatsoever. like lets be real, katelyn lost her personality the moment season 5 started and kawaii chan just kinda sits there :I

-ok im sorry this was bound to come up but cmon guys imagine laurances potential if he was in season 6 like god damn this is beyond maddening. AND YOU KNOW WHAT WOULD HAVE BEEN A REALLY REALLY COOL PARRALLEL?? IF IT WAS LAURANCE WHO SNAPPED GARROTH OUT OF HIS MIND CONTROL THING, because it would mimic laurance’s speech to get garroth to snap out of his rage in season 1, episode 100 of minecraft diaries. like how fuckin rad would that have been? missed opportunity 

-also?? why does kim/ghost know magicks?? like, if i remember correctly, emmalyn is a scholar--not someone who knew magicks. i mean, i guess research? study?? but its been established that knowing how magicks works =/= being able to use magicks. i dunno, just doesnt seem right i guess. maybe its explained, i wouldnt know (yes i know that makes me look like a dick leave me alone)

-melissa should have stayed dead. LIKE, NO, ITS NOT AS SIMPLE AS “haha it takes more than a few bullets to kill me”??? look ive got nothing wrong with melissa (cough lie cough) but yknow it would have just been cool a character... stay dead? for once? its just too fuckin cliche that shes alive god damn

-can i also just say the only good thing that came out of season 6 was travis’ dads sacrifice like damn that made me actually sad

-howww was lucinda turned into a relic. or yknow, anyone else? like im sure they explain it better in the actual show i just dont remember, but its just that easy? turning anyone into a relic? granted, a normal person wouldnt be able to produce a good relic, but idk man. IM JUST SAYING; that the only really powerful relics that aphmau should have been able to wield is the one that aaron + zane produced because shad relic and esmund relic moment. lucinda isnt even like, connected to a divine warrior. ALSO, another point, if its seriously that powerful of a relic getting one from just a magic user like lucinda, why go through the trouble? i mean i guess ofc youd want the “all powerful” one that the ultima produces but i mean damn whats the point

-ok this is just going to bother me but in one of the episodes (i think might have been in season 5 actually) where that like, guardian dude was chasing aphmau and zane and at one point they split up and the dude just chuckles at zane diverting paths and goes under his breath “youre not the important one here”, suggesting that aphmau somehow is? first of all, id argue that any ro’meave is significantly more important than aphmau was, especially not knowing much about her other than that shes with aaron. i might be missing some bits an pieces, but if i was that dude id forget about aphmau and go after zane 

-killing off derek for shock factor sucked, and i know the moment was supposed to be really sad because like “oh :( aarons dad is sacrificing himself for his son” but lets be real dereks still was a shitty father and i dont think his reasons for doing what he did was very good at all

-less about plot or more like: why the absolute fuck did the gang bring kim along instead of, oh i dont know, a life-long friend? like, laurance or dante maybe?? im sure its explained, i never saw aphmaus year or most of season 5, but god DAMN id hate to be apart of this friend group AND GOD LIKE, imagine reconnecting with an old friend who ends up getting closer to your best friends and taking priority in their lives over you (cough laurance) like god damn lol

-im just going to preface this one with: i dont remember everything that’s happened, so if im wrong i apologize in advance--but (you actually can correct me if im wrong and please do) didnt like, irene reincarnate her friends in order to give them better lives? I DONT KNOW IF THIS IS TRUE, ITS JUST WHAT I REMEMBER--however, if im correct, then:

a. why the hell would she bring back someone like zane, or gene, or ivy, etc.

b. why the hell do they all have the same exact names? first and last? again, im aware that the whole mystreet+mcd tie wasn’t originally supposed to be there, but i dont think that means such a coincidence can be excused? its just a bit much if you ask me.

c. why the hell is the fact that (as much as i literally hate this) aaron is a decedent of shad being ignored? like, you’d think that something like this would be something thats actually important, or something the demon warlock couldve taken advantage of. or are we completely erasing every other connections to divine warriors besides aphmau + irene? because even if irene did reincarnate them or do whatever it is she did, does she even have the power to sever the connections between them and their ancestors? my guess is, no.

d. speaking of irene why on earth was aphmau able to talk to/see irene, they’re literally the same person are they not? did she like, fuckin reincarnate herself without actually doing it?? BUT--i will give it to them, the demon warlock did refer to aphmau as something along the lines of being “one of the 3 parts of her broken soul” or something like that. however, my point still remains. also what are the other two did i miss that or is it never explained

now; if irene in fact did not ‘reincarnate’ her friends then please ignore that little bit right there :)

but yes, those are a few of the problems i have with season 6 off the top of my head. i would go into like, season 4 and 5 more as well, but i honestly didnt feel like it. at some point i might go into other things, like how important laurance could have been to the plot of these later seasons, or HELL, even dante. i might also go into what could have made season 4, 5, and 6 actually good--maybe... a rewrite? perhaps? but im getting too far ahead of myself, so i just leave you with this for now.

and i know that as soon as i post this 15 more things are just going to pop into my head BUT im going to try and not edit this post because why stress myself with that even more

anyways thank you for coming to my tedtalk 

[scarletarosa]

Pluto

Greek god of death; King of the Underworld

Pluto (also Pluton or Hades) is the king of the Greek Underworld (which is called Hades) and is the lord of death. He presides over funeral rites and defends the right of the dead to their due burial. Pluto is also the god of the hidden wealth of the earth, from the fertile soil which nourishes the seed-grain, to the mined wealth of gold, silver, and other metals. One of the gods who works alongside him is Thanatos, who holds power over gentle deaths (while Pluto is death in general). In one myth, Pluto was said to have brought a plague to inflict Thebes after the king refused to give proper burials to warriors, which depicts Pluto’s harsher aspect of delivering death and justice. Pluto was also usually regarded as an infertile god, for a god of death should, by his very nature, be incapable of siring any children.

Pluto was depicted as a dark-bearded, regal god. He was depicted as either enthroned in Hades, holding a bird-tipped sceptre, or as the giver of wealth, pouring fertility from a cornucopia. The Romans named him Dis, or Pluto, the Latin form of his Greek title Plouton, "the Lord of Riches."

Myths: According to Hesiod, Pluto’s parentage is said to be of Kronos (god of time) and Rhea (goddess of earth and motherhood). He was said to have been devoured by Kronos along with four of his siblings while the infant Zeus was secretly hidden away by Rhea after his birth. When Zeus later returned and fought Kronos, his siblings were spat out and together they drove the titan gods from the heavens and locked them away in the pit of Tartaros. When the three victorious brothers then drew lots for the division of the cosmos, Hades received the third portion, the dark gloomy realm of the Underworld, as his domain. However, in another version of Pluto’s parentage, it is said by the Orphics that he is actually the son of Nyx (goddess of night) and Olethros (god of doom). In my workings with Pluto and Nyx, they have said the latter myth to be the true version, which makes Pluto the half-brother of deities such as Eris (strife), Philotes (unity), Hemera (daylight), Aether (god of the aether and upper light), etc.

In another myth, Pluto had desired a bride and petitioned Zeus to grant him one of his daughters. The god offered him the young Persephone, the daughter of Demeter. However, knowing that Persephone would resist the marriage, he assented to the forceful abduction of the girl and carried her away on his chariot as she cried out for help. When Demeter learned of this, she was furious and in great despair, causing a great dearth to fall upon the Earth until her daughter was safely returned. Zeus was eventually forced to concede lest mankind perish, and the girl was fetched forth from the Underworld. However, since she had eaten the pomegranate seed after being deceived by Pluto, she was forced to return to him for a portion of each year.

Apollodorus in the following passage summarizes the contents of the Homeric Hymn to Demeter (quoted here in the following section). Pseudo-Apollodorus, Bibliotheca 1. 29-33 (trans. Aldrich) (Greek mythographer C2nd A.D.):  

“Plouton [Haides] fell in love with Persephone, and with Zeus' help secretly kidnapped her. I begin to sing of rich-haired Demeter Semne Thea (Reverend goddess) - of her and her trim-ankled daughter [Persephone] whom Aidoneus rapt away, given to him by all-seeing Zeus the loud-thunderer. Apart from Demeter Lady of the golden sword (khrysaoros), Giver of glorious fruits (aglaokarpos), she was playing with the deep-bosomed daughters of Okeanos and gathering flowers over a soft meadow, roses and crocuses and beautiful violets, irises also and hyacinths and the narcissus, which Ge (Earth) made to grow at the will of Zeus and to please the Host of Many [Haides], to be a snare for the bloom-like girl...The girl was amazed and reached out with both hands to take the lovely toy; but the wide-pathed earth yawned there in the Nysion plain, and the lord, Host of Many, with his immortal horses sprang out upon her...

He caught her up reluctant on his golden car and bare her away lamenting. Then she cried out shrilly with her voice, calling upon her father, the Son of Kronos [Zeus], who is most high and excellent. But no one, either of the deathless gods or of mortal men, heard her voice, nor yet the olive-trees bearing rich fruit: only tender-hearted Hekate, bright-coiffed, the daughter of Persaios, heard the girl from her cave, and the lord Helios (the Sun), Hyperion's bright son, as she cried to her father, the Son of Kronos [Zeus]. But he was sitting aloof, apart from the gods, in his temple where many pray, and receiving sweet offerings from mortal men. So he, that Son of Kronos [Haides], of many names...was bearing her away by leave of Zeus on his immortal chariot--his own brother's child and all unwilling. And so long as she, the goddess, yet beheld earth and starry heaven and the strong flowing sea, and still hoped to see her dear mother [Demeter] and the tribes of the eternal gods, so long hope calmed her great heart for all her trouble; and the heights of the mountains and the depths of the sea rang with her immortal voice: and her queenly mother heard her.”

Appearance: A man in his 40’s with tanned skin, black hair, a short black beard, and black eyes (only the irises). He wears a black toga and often has a solemn expression.  

Personality: Pluto is very solitary, withdrawn, just, fair, serious, aloof, brooding, and compassionate. He requires his followers to respect the resting places of the dead, to show humility, and to overcome their toxic ways. He is one who understands that we all must go through the depths of suffering if we wish to gain wisdom and become better people. Yet this is something very difficult to do, so he is glad to assist along this path if one politely requests him to do so. Pluto is also a healer, but only in regards to mental sufferings due to loss and regrets; other things are not specialties of his. Pluto is a highly respectable deity and will be the guardian of many of us once we die (unless we enter a different kingdom). One should not speak cruelly of him or disrespect him due to his role as a divine king, lest they seek to invoke his wrath.  

Personal experiences: Pluto embodies a feeling of immense loneliness, and had even bound himself to the Underworld as he felt that he could belong nowhere else. But in doing this, he is unable to leave this realm for very long and has made it very difficult for him to find a companion. So, in an act of desperation, he kidnapped Persephone when he saw her in a meadow one day and carried her off to his realm as she raged against him. He pleaded with her to listen and be understanding, but of course, someone who has been kidnapped does not respond well to this. So Pluto kept her locked up in his palace hoping that she would eventually calm down and come to want to understand him, but instead, Persephone became angrier and even more desperate to escape. This soon led Pluto to force himself upon her, and he continued this for ages. After a very long time of being kept prisoner, Persephone finally managed to be rescued by other deities, but she was not the same and had lost her connection to flowers due to her stay in the Underworld. She has been traumatized ever since and harbours great anger towards Pluto and any who change the myths about what had occurred. Pluto, however, is not the same as he was before and is repenting for his actions.  

Nowadays, Pluto is a better version of his old self but still pains over his solitude. However, he does receive some company from some visiting family members such as Nyx and a few of his siblings, like Philotes. However, one is not advised to enter the Underworld through astral travel unless they are highly experienced and are granted permission to enter since this realm is not a pleasant place and some areas can even cause insanity. Despite this dark, abysmal domain, Pluto is a very understanding and patient god who is not quick to judge others and helps us to overcome our past evils in order to be reborn. Pluto also has a very strong understanding of pain and solitude, and what these emotions can turn a person into, so he can assist in healing these burdening emotions from our hearts.  

He has explained that Pluto is his true name while Hades is simply the name of the portion of the Underworld which he rules over (as the Underworld is immensely vast and has multiple kingdoms such as Kur, Duat, Helheim, etc). His role as king of Hades is to watch over the spirits of the dead who enter his domain; where they are then tormented in order to overcome their wrong-doings, negative habits/emotions, and harmful obsessions. It is not like Hell, since only evil spirits go there and they are tortured for eternity in far worse ways; the Underworld is moreso a place of harsh lessons and rebirth before one is allowed entrance to Elysium. The torments of the Underworld are also all symbolic and assist the spirit in realizing what they must change about themselves before they can become anew, yet this process usually takes many years (sometimes decades or centuries). Pluto also has power over death itself (since he embodies it) and has explained that the god Thanatos is an aspect of himself, representing a small portion of his own power. Pluto also has the power of illusion, which makes him able to cause spirits and humans alike to see whatever he wants them to see (even able to manipulate one’s astral senses).  

Some of Pluto’s Epithets:

Adámastos (Unconquerable)  

Adesius (The Grave)

Agelastus (Melancholic)

Aidis (The Unseen)

Amænthis (The One who Gives and Receives)

Ánax (King)

Eubulius (The Consoler of Sorrow)

Feralis Deus (The Dismal God)

Larthy Tytiral (Sovereign of Tartaros)

Moiragetes (Guide of the Fates)

Nekrôn Sôtêr (Saviour of the Dead)

Opertus (The Concealed)

Polydegmôn (Host of Many)

Pluton (Lord of Riches)

Offerings: ginger ale, spiced rum, well water, ginger root, plums, mushrooms, eggplant, beetroot, parsnips, black peppercorns, bones, ash, scorpions, vipers, clay pots, black candles, styrax incense, chalk powder, black or grey rags, sceptres, scythes, black or dark purple cloaks, ebony wood, black leather moccasins, moleskin, old silver coins, bronze, silver, ivory, rust, obsidian, onyx, jet, charcoal

The Underworld

[miss-tc-nova]

Nova’s Warrior of Light

I’m a little bored, so I’m gonna write some head cannons about my WoL (and her relationships with the Scions). 

This is Nova yes, named after me. She’s dumb as a box of rocks but would do anything for her friends. She’s the one always getting into trouble and dragging everyone down with her (that time nearly half the Scions died hunting behemoths). While usually pretty optimistic, she’s susceptible to depression, hyper aware of all her action/in-action that lead to someone getting hurt. This is probably why she’s  quite expressive, often using her exagerated emotions to hide her real feelings/pain or to lighten the mood (even if she’s the butt of the joke). If she ever hits the point of true rage, stay out of her way. However, this usually only happens if her friends are harmed or threatened. 

Thancred is more often than not her accomplice--suggesting just as many hare-brained schemes as she does. It may have been stupid, but those were good times. He’s closest to her, so she put in the effort to drag him out of his ShB rutt, even though she struggled with her own insecurities (light, friendships, death, etc).

Alisaie and Alphinaud are like her kids. No, she doesn’t want kids, but she’ll definitely go mama-bear on anyone who hurts them. Which may or may not be just sheer violence considering her strength and lack of brains. She often goes around saying she’s got shared custody over them with Ameliance, but definitely not Fourchenault. He’s still on thin ice. She’s softer with Alphinaud, teasing but encouraging. That doesn’t work with Alisaie though, so Nova’s often the challenge she provokes Alisaie to overcome (but still encouraging). Alisaie is usually excited to go along on Nova’s cockamamie adventures while Alphinaud is usually dragged, but Nova ensures nothing will harm them, or someone will pay. 

Urianger has a sort of mutual relationship with Nova. He’s smart, but not so coordinated, where as she’s pretty athletic but dumb. They’re chill enough to hang out with each other and help each other in their weaknesses. He does enjoy the odd moment of mentally tormenting her as payback for her laughing at something he fails at (Using a simple card trick to baffle her becasue she mocked him for not being able to swim). 

Y’shtola is the alpha, on paper. Nova will go out of her way to avoid Y’shtola’s wrath but endure whatever punishment is doled out for her dumb actions once she’s caught. 100% Nova could destroy all the Scions, but she loves Y’shtola enough to keep up the appearances of the dynamic and Y’shtola knows this. Nevertheless, Y’shtola is usually the first to tend to Nova’s injuries, all while scolding the warrior. Y’shtola and Thancred are the only people who recognize that Nova could probably destroy the star if she wanted, but have the faith that Nova cares enough not to. Twelve help them should something push Nova over the edge. 

After the Crystal Tower raids (wherein Nova wanted to beat the snot out of his sassy ass) G’raha became a younger brother. But not the annoying “I hate you” kind of younger brother. More like the “always got your back” younger brother. Like the twins, you can bet he’s also tagging along on the antics. That doesn’t mean Nova hasn’t had to save his ass on multiple occassions, but he’s just happy to be here and she indulges that. In turn, THAT doesn’t mean he hasn’t saved her ass either. He’s definiely smarter and there have been plenty of times it was him who got them out of situations. Nova holds a lot of regret for not being strong enough to save him on all occassions. 

Estinien is a bit of a thorn in the side. He’s the one who most often points out Nova’s idiocy, despite not being the brightest himself. (”At least I can read” “You paid 30,000G for a hair tie!”) They see the strength in each other and are comfortable enough to hang out, but there’s a lot of sass and backtalk with these two. If you really want to see these two go at it, just mention any similiarity between the two, just beware that the wrath may turn on you too. (Nova started as a Lancer/Dragoon)

Krile is a good girl friend not girlfriend that Nova enjoys seeing. Nova would do just about anything Krile asked, either just because Krile is sweet or because she bribed Nova with an embarassing Alphinaud story.

Tataru is like a business partner. Nova doesn’t know what she’s doing or why, but Tataru told her she had to get these materials, so she’s out in the field gathering. She trusts Tataru to turn everything to gold, but also knows well enough not to cross the little lalafellin (”I don’t know why Tataru needs eight spriggans, but I don’t want anymore itching powder in my clothes”).

[leiawritesstories]

Burden

One of the first fics I ever wrote. Inspired by the Evanescence song “My Immortal.”

Nexta x Cassian, canonverse. Written waaaaaaay before ACOSF came along, so ignore canon divergence. 

TW: mentions of sexual assault

She is tired. Tired of the work, the long hours, the demanding pricks she must placate, the front she must show, tired of the façade she puts up, and so, so tired of locking away her heart. 

But locking away her heart is the only way to protect herself.

Never again can she let anyone, anyone, know the storm of emotion that rages within her soul. Never again can she allow herself to forge one-sided trust. Never again can she bare her inmost self, lest she be left cold, broken, and utterly alone. Never again can she watch the only person she thought  loved her dash her heart against the rocks of rejection. Never again. No one.

Not even him.

Him, the first male in this place to look at her like she was more than the silent, haughty, closed-off bitch the others considered her. Him, the only male to genuinely offer her what she needed during those horrible days after that bastard shoved her into his Cauldron-from-the- hells and cursed her with immortality: an outlet for her rage. Him, the male tied to her soul. Him, the male she cannot allow herself to love, no matter what her traitorous heart screams. 

Cassian.

The brash, cocky, fearless Illyrian. The only male in the world who sees her as she is and does not balk. The only person she knows who can face the raging inferno that is her and stand completely unfazed. 

Her mate.

A fact she must squelch. Never let it come to light. Never allow it to escape the steel cage around her volatile heart. 

No matter that every time her mate’s eyes fall upon hers, she reads his unspoken question.

Please. 

And no matter that every time she reads his heart written in his gaze, her own repressed heart leaps in response. Damn her heart for always feeling so deeply, so wholly. Damn her for not learning to rein in her emotions earlier. Damn her for turning into a pillar of steel, ice, and heartlessness when anyone so much as asks her a polite question. And damn her for being so godsdamn terrified of letting anyone even an infinitesimal step into her heart. 

Her warrior’s heart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He watches her every moment she is present. And every moment, the pull on his soul grows stronger, ever stronger, drawing him towards the pillar of steel, flame, and unflinching willpower that is Nesta Archeron. He knows she feels the bond. He knows she refuses to let anyone know about the bond. He sees the faint flicker of fear in those glorious eyes of hers every time he speaks to her. A fear, not of him, but of what connects her soul to his. 

What horror happened to her to make her fear having a mate?

Not that he will ever know. But he wants to. Oh, how he wants to. How he longs for her to trust him, or if not him, then at least her sisters. He can sense that whatever she hides in her soul weighs heavily upon her, can see the burden she bears in the ramrod-straight line of her spine. And how he yearns to take some of that weight off of her shoulders. 

Every time he speaks to her, she pushes away his efforts to make her smile. He wonders if she has forgotten joy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She has not.

She has merely forgotten that her life can be joyful. She cannot see past the string of terrible events that made up the last months of her human life. And she cannot bring herself to share the pain that shattered her heart mere months before life went straight to hell. 

Not with anyone.

No matter how much her brain, her heart, her soul push her towards spilling the entire story to her mate. Months in the Illyrian Mountains spent by his side, learning Illyrian combat tactics, dissolved the hatred she once felt for everyone in the Night Court, save her sisters. During those months, she discovered what lay under the Commander’s armor: his impossibly soft, warm heart. During those months, she came the closest she had ever come to revealing the scars that mottled her heart. He’d already seen the ones on her forearms, exposed during training; why, then, should she hide the mental ones, the emotional ones? 

Because he would never understand, she thinks to herself. 

“Nesta.”

She jumps, not realizing that while she was lost in her thoughts, he crossed over to her.

“What.” A statement, not a question. 

“I…” To her shock, he trails off, self-consciously twisting the Siphons on the back of his hands. 

“Bryaxis got your tongue?”

He jerks. A ghost of a smirk flits across her face. Which he notices. “By the Mother, Nesta Archeron. Did you just…joke?”

“Maybe.” That smirk returns.

He gazes at her, his eyes scanning her face as if trying to peer into her soul. “Why the long face?”

“Memories. From before. Most of them best forgotten.” Despite her iron resolve, a flicker of pain crosses her face. 

“Nesta, please.” The word emerges a broken plea. “Locking away whatever your terrors are will only make them worse. Please. Tell someone. It doesn’t have to be me. It—”

“What if you’re the only one who will actually listen?”

He freezes. “What?”

Her eyes, silver collecting in the corners, stare directly into his. “What if you’re the only one I trust to listen, fully and completely?”

Red light flares, and she finds herself—and Cassian—in his familiar wood-paneled cabin at the edge of the Illyrian woods. “Then speak.”

She does.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Not quite three months before Hybern kidnapped her and Elain, Nesta met a young man, new to the village. His parents were merchants, he said, and he had come to start a shop in an area where their commerce did not yet reach. He was passably handsome, and a sweeter talker than all the lecherous bastards in town. He also “happened to be around” whenever Nesta ventured into town. After his appearances became too frequent to be “chance,” Nesta allowed him to flirt with her, and despite her better sense, allowed herself to flirt back. Allowed herself to share her secrets, her hopes, her dreams.

A month after meeting him, he finally asked her to dinner, and she accepted. He came to her house that evening and charmed the hell out of her father, acting the perfect gentleman, even asking his assistance as a bookkeeper, considering his knowledge and experience as a trader. It was a pleasant enough dinner and conversation, a pleasant enough evening.

Until he escorted her home.

Or, more accurately, he escorted her into a secluded alley and pressed her against the wall. And clamped one greasy hand over her mouth. And ripped her skirt straight down the seam. Frozen with shock, all Nesta registered was his heavy breath, reeking of alcohol, and the lust-crazed sheen of his eyes. For one interminable moment, she could neither move nor think beyond the nasty, oily feeling of his other hand crawling up her thigh. 

The moment passed. Nesta bit down on his hand as hard as she could, earning a strangled grunt as he jerked back. Before he could manhandle her again, she drove her elbow into his ribs once, twice, thrice, and was rewarded with a satisfying crack and him doubling over. Then, she turned and fled into the night. 

She reached home in moments, burst through the side door, and barred it. Elain, who had come into the kitchen for some reason, gasped. 

“Nesta! Your dress! What happened?”

Nesta could only shake her head, the horror of the encounter crashing into her full force. Elain, seeing her sister’s obvious state of shock, helped her upstairs, into a bath, and into bed. When Nesta appeared the next day, bruising on her face from where she had been gripped, her sister again asked about the night before. Nesta refused to answer. She spent years stuffing the memory of that night as far back into her memory as she could. 

But the effects lasted. To this day, she fears opening her heart to any man, no matter how good, how sweet, how outwardly perfect he may seem. The scars from nearly being forcibly raped linger. And despite the years between then and now, there is simply too much that time cannot erase. Some scars run too deep. 

His name was Tomas Mandray.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the silence following her story, Nesta realizes that she has slumped onto the worn wooden floor, unable to support herself against the flood of her memory. She realizes that the warmth on her face is her tears, falling freely. 

And that the one thing keeping her tethered to the earth is Cassian’s hand around hers. 

She lifts her head, drawing in a shaky breath, her heart…lighter. 

Ever so hesitantly, his thumb brushes her cheek, wiping away the tears tracked there. He feels her tense, and then, incredibly, she relaxes, allowing him to brush the tears from her face as if he could erase the pain she feels. 

Deep in a buried corner of her mind, a thread of golden light pierces the shadows. 

Thank you, Cassian.

Always, my Nesta.

[rue-king]

Black Bird

(AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33056038)

Summary: Damian Wayne has a bad day and he has no one to comfort him but a little black bird.

Warnings: mild cursing, and slight descriptions of violence, mentions of Damian's trauma

It stinks in Gotham. No one has ever tried to say otherwise. It stinks, it's cold, and it's dangerous.

The air bites and snaps against warm skin. It swooshes through the light poofs of hair that rises from little Damian Wayne’s head.

He’s doing what Wayne’s do best- brooding.

He’s having one of those days. The type where he can’t keep his temper. The type where he snaps at his father and his brothers. The type where he feels just so angry and doesn’t know why.

He’s not even a whole teen, a real teen. He’s a kid who feels emotions way too large for his little body.

He can take a man apart no problem, but god forbid he try to properly express his feelings. You won’t ever hear him say a bad thing about the league of assassins, but they ruined him. They destroyed him before he even had a chance to develop into a whole person.

There’s nights where every time he closes his eyes all he sees is endless waves of warriors  and teachers beating him down. Each one striking with more and more vigor, burying him under the weight of their blood lust.

Last night was especially terrible. After patrolling with his father Damian retired to his room to get some sleep. It started off okay. He laid in his king sized bed and sank into its sheets.

His peaceful dreams warped into the burning green goo that is the lazarus pit. There he watched his grandfather and mother burn. They died by his hand and he couldn’t stop himself. He watched himself twist his own katanas into their hearts over and over and over again.

He could hear a scream reverberate around him. It wasn’t until he stabbed Talia for the 232nd time before he realized it was him screaming.

He killed his own family until the liquid of the pit stained red. And could no longer bring them back. He turned away from the pit, finally his screams faded away. Finally he is given his relief.

His brain hates him, he swears it. He found no relief, no peace. Only more pain and anguish. He dropped his sword, staring at his bloodied hands. Echoes of footsteps reach his ears.

Oh he knows this cadence, the stable stepping of his father. The heavy gait of the great, the grand, the hero Batman. Dread. Heavy, unforgiving dread fills him. He’s worked so hard to change. He doesn’t kill anymore. He doesn’t. It wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t stop it.

Oh god. He didn’t mean to.

Frantically he looks up, begging to be wrong for once in his life.

Please, please don’t be him.

It’s too late. Bruce Wayne’s eyes pour into Damian’s.

Anger. Disappointment. Disgust. Rage.

A pain fills his chest before he can register the wetness of his eyes. His shaking hands reach to comfort the burning in his center.

His katana protrudes from the place where his heart sits and the hand on the hilt is his fathers.

He’s crying ugly, angry tears.

Damian coughed, a dribble of blood pours out of his mouth.

“Father, I’m so sor-“

His vision goes black and he wakes up covered in a cold sweat. Gasping for breath.

Oh god. He can’t breathe. He's gasping and clutching his chest as if the katana was still there.

It’s not, obviously, but his heart is racing as if it is.  He couldn’t go back to sleep. Everytime his eyes drooped closed he could hear the echo of his screams in his ears. Everytime the manor settles and groans his heart jumps as if he can still hear his father’s cadence.

He can’t stand the way the down feather pillows drown his head or how his soft silk sheets stick against his sweating, trembling body. He abandoned his bed all together. He retreats to his on-suite bathroom and fills the lifted tub with a single pillow and the least soft sheet he owns.

Here he is protected on all sides. The cage of ceramic and space between him and the main door makes him feel slightly more at ease.

It doesn’t do much though, because that morning he is snappy and irritable. He jumps at every noise and lashes out at a moment’s notice. He cursed at Alfred for asking him if he slept well. He called Tim “the charity case that no one asked for.”

He didn’t even bother with his father. He couldn’t look him in the eye. He felt that if he did he would see the eyes of the man that stabbed him in the heart last night. Besides it’s not like his father can bear to initiate conversation with him anyway.

This mix of fear and frustration built up into a big ball of anger throughout the day. Normally he would just lash out and burn all that energy with his anger, but today he couldn’t summon the energy. Instead he’s opted for being broody.

He yearns for peace, for what it may feel like. He needs space to sort out what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling. He needs to process and breathe on his own because he doesn’t know how to ask for help or seek others.

So he’s sitting on the ledge of a medium-sized building in the middle of gotham. It's an office building that sits at the perfect height to not be seen from below but has the protection of taller buildings around it.  The air is cool and sharp against the skin of his cheeks. A harsh yellow and white light crawls up the sides of the buildings and flashes against the cars and neons signs below.

He lets his legs dangle and his hair become undone with the wind. Breathing in and out hard with thought out concentration. His hands wander to the folds of his uniform and he pinches the fabric absent mindedly.

He shuts his eyes for a second, to ground himself, but before he can see a katana out of his chest he feels a sharp pain come from his hand.

He snatches his hand away from where it sat in his lap. He looks down to see a smaller than average crow looking at him.

“You pecked me, you little bastard. Shoo!”

The crow continues to stare undisturbed by Damian’s mean words.

He takes a tiny hop closer, just reaching the cape that drapes over Dami’s shoulders. Damian leans away instinctively, his lips beginning to form more harsh words.

The little crow beats him to it and chirps. The little thing leans forward and pokes Damian’s thigh with his round beak. Not enough to hurt.

“What do you want, pest”

The crow looks Dami in the eyes with a look that suggests an odd amount of intelligence. Freaky.

The crow sticks out a leg, like he was reaching out for Damian. The bird does it with such determination that he is nearly tipping over.

Damian is thoroughly confused, there’s no reason for this bird to be behaving this way.

The bird flaps his wings in obvious frustration.

Then Damian sees it. His wing is crooked, bent in an unnatural angle. He spots a bit of fresh blood on the dark black feathers now too.

“Well what do you expect me to do about that”

The crow croaks loudly in indignation. They enter a sort of staring contest.

Damian's intentions for the night was to brood and be left alone with no distractions. This bird is ruining his plans.

That little crow is determined. It shouldn’t be possible for a bird to give him puppy eyes.

“Alright I’ll assist you, you bastard”

The crow chirps again, throwing himself deeper into Damian’s lap.

Oh how Damian is weak for animals. He strokes the little guy's head. His anger dissipates as his thoughts are replaced with the little bastard's treatment plan. I mean you can’t think about your tortuous nightmares and absent father when you have much greater things to worry about.

Damian ends up using his emergency bandages to secure the injured wing and create a sort of pouch to hold him in. He doesn’t even realize his breathing evened out ages ago.

He feeds the little man bits of bread from the sandwich Alfred smuggled into his super cool and tough Robin pack. (Definitely NOT a glorified lunchbox). He doesn’t even know that his hands aren’t trembling anymore.

He thinks of names for the crow on his way home. No longer feeling dread at the reminder of another night to sleep through.

Maybe he can name him bat crow. Or maybe he needs to invest in an imagination. Well whatever the case, for the moment he is settling with an affectionate bastard for the little man's name.

He always did think that he got along with animals better than people anyway.