#as opposed to my mother who was just annoyed that he took all that time to write his parents a letter just to deliver it to him 😭

[lemonlimestar]

no one can hate on wally west quite like bart allen & my mom when i was reading ntt

[justjwab]

Top 10 posts customer service workers hate reading

very controversial opinion here, but sometimes customer service workers are the problem 😶

[stargirlrchive]

ocean eyes: chapter three ✩ jake sully

masterlist ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ocean eyes masterlist

summary: widow!jake sully x female!reader, 10 year age-gap. jake is lowkey sunshine <3 reader is grumpy! arranged marriage/marriage of convenience, eventual smut, arguing, Jake being a flirt, that’s all + wc - 2,424

comments: part three lovers, reader x ronal interactions are my fav to write fr so this was fun, also i know this has been more reader!centric as opposed to reader x jake but just wait ;) chapter four is literally my favorite from the whole series i am so excited, kk bye <3

previous ✩ next

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

You walked into the marui, Tsireya instantly running into your arms as she cried. The younger girl was at times too sensitive for you. Still you wrapped your arms around her, pulling her closer, “Are you okay?”

“Yes syulang, I am fine. Calm down.”

She took a deep breath, removing herself as she looked over you once more. Her ears pinned back roughly in fear as her mother entered their home. “You are so irresponsible!”

You huffed out an annoyed breath, removing Tsireya from you as you moved deeper into the home. “Yes sister, whatever you say.”

Ronal despised how much you dismissed her, her frustration with your lack of care finally reaching its boiling point. “Tsireya, Ao’nung- out!”

“Sa’nok-”

“Out!”

Both of the younger children scurried away, scared to be caught in the crossfire. “You have no regard for anyone but yourself! You are so careless! Stupid girl!”

“I am not a child, Ronal! Stop treating me as such!”

“No, you are far worse! You behave worse than any child I have ever raised!”

Your anger was rising quickly, causing the deepest throb to pound on your temple, ringing angrily in your ears. “I do not know what you want from me sister. When I was younger you wanted me to step out of my shell, now that I am happy, doing as I please you find issue in it. You find issues in everything I do!”

“Yes because you are too wild, you do not understand responsibilities because Tonowari and I have let you run amuck for far too long!”

An angry hiss left your lips, “How many times do I have to tell you? You are not my mother! I was fifteen when you took me in, I had accomplished my Iknimaya well before you began to acknowledge my existence again. I do not need you to mother me!”

Ronal was not sure when her relationship with you got this way, when had your strings tangled so horribly that neither of you recognized the other? Unwilling to see eye to eye. “You have changed so much from when you were a child. I do not recognize you.”

Despite wanting it to, her words hurt you. “You choose not to see me. Refuse to acknowledge that I want to be my own person.”

“Being your own person entails you to be selfish? You hurt the people that care for you! And if that is who you are, then no. I refuse to get to know this new person.”

Selfish.

Her words stung, all you wanted was the attention she ripped away from you when she left your home. You missed her terribly, and since then never found your place with her again. “You will continue to fight this, but know you will be mated. Whether that is with JakeSully or someone else. But I will make sure of it, I want you out of my home as soon as possible.”

Hot tears instantly fell from your eyes and this time it was Ronal who walked out on you.

Jake nervously made his way to his family’s marui, his palms were sweating uncomfortably as he thought of how he should bring up the subject with his children. It had been a few years since Neytiri had left their life, and though they had learned to live without her, he wasn’t sure how they’d take the news.

Worried he’d need to make arrangements for them to leave once more. He sighed quietly, nerves bubbling in his chest as he walked in. His youngest, Tuk, instantly ran into his arms. “Sempul, you’re back!”

He scooped her up in his arms, smiling as she clung to him, “Told you I would be back quickly.”

He moved deeper into the home before setting her down, “Sully meeting, fall in.”

All his kids crowded around him, curiosity filling them as they saw their father fidget with nerves. “You know back in the forest, as Olo’eyktan I needed to make decisions that benefited the clan?”

He was answered by nods, “Well-Tonowari has the same responsibility as I do. He must make decisions with the assistance of the Tsahik, to make sure the safety of their people is ensured.”

Tuk’s lower lip wobbled, “Have they changed their mind?”

Jake instantly brought her into him, flattening her hair as he tried to soothe her. “No babygirl, but they have asked something of me. And I have agreed. But-”

He let out a deep breath, “If you all do not want me to, I can back out and we will take our leave once again.”

Lo’ak was the one to ask, “What do they want, sir?”

“They need to be sure that I am loyal to the clan, that just as they are welcoming us, we are doing the same. Holding loyalty for if any issue ever came to be they need to know I will stand with them.”

“And how will you do that?”

“By taking a mate.”

He waited with baited breath, trying to memorize the micro-expressions on his children’s faces, “Oh.”

“Like I said-I can back out, and we can leave.”

“I don’t want to leave, Sempul.”

Tuk laid her head on his shoulder before she continued speaking, “I like it here.”

Lo’ak stared at Neteyam, he didn’t know how to feel but he knew his older brother's stance on the matter would be the correct one. His expression was unreadable, “With who, sir?”

Jake’s eyes fell to his oldest, “Ronal’s sister.”

Kiri laughed as Neteyam sucked in a breath, “I heard she’s more reckless than Lo’ak, sir.”

It caused the four of them to laugh, Lo’ak sulking in the corner as his oldest brother teased him. “If you believe it is the right thing sir, we do too.”

Jake let out a quiet breath, sending a smile to his oldest three. “We still have a few weeks to go, give you some time to get used to her, yes? And if any of you change your mind, say the word and we’re gone.”

The night after that slipped away comfortably, and in the quiet of the night when his children were asleep Jake made his way towards the beach. He sank into the cool sand and called upon Neytiri, asking her to give him a sign that this was the right thing to do.

He was about to head back when a small glowing figure in the water came towards him. He instantly recognized the shape. An atokirina.

Jake let out a deep puff of air, a heavy weight lifting from his shoulders as the seed swam around him, his fingers dipped into the water and the atokirina tickled his fingers. After a few seconds it retreated, floating deeper into the water.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

You spent the majority of the night tossing and turning, Ronal’s words unable to let sleep come to you peacefully. It was short circuits of bliss, being ripped away by nightmares as her words taunted you. You sighed quietly, the sun barely peeking out by the horizon and you decided it would be best to just start your day. Changing into some of your more comfortable pieces of clothing, deciding to take a quick swim before fetching the Olo’eyktan.

You tiptoed out quietly, not wanting to wake anyone. Once you stepped out of the marui, your pace increased. Your feet digging into the warm sand as you sighed quietly.

You could tell by the tides that the day would be beautiful. Your feet dipped into the water before diving in.

The coolness shocked your senses awake and you couldn't help the giddiness that nestled into your chest. You swam deeper into the freshwater, a small laugh leaving your nose as one of the ilu’s nuzzled their head against your own. You signed to the animal, ‘Hello.’

The animal clacked back at you, only swimming backup to feel the warmth of the sun. Your eyes locked on the blur of dark blue, hands on his hips as he watched you. Your eyes rolled slightly, dipping back into the water to swim for a bit.

Jake’s day had started early too but unlike you the Toruk Makto was well rested. He laughed quietly when he noticed you turned away from him, dipping into the water once again. He decided to wait, he did not have much to do besides learning whatever it is you need to teach him.

Nearly ten minutes had passed and Jake was starting to feel a bit foolish, thinking you must have swam away. He sighed quietly going to turn around and head back to his marui but you reappeared once again. “Well, come in.”

Your voice dripped with annoyance, Jake once again found joy in how he pushed your buttons despite barely knowing you. His feet were moving quickly into the water, it was cold, shocking his senses and it caused a shiver to run down his back. His teeth began to clank roughly the closer he got to you, and it caused a laugh to rip from your throat. “Is the water too cold for you, Toruk Makto?”

“Just a bit.”

“Well, you better get used to it. I enjoy getting my chores done early in the morning.”

Your jabs did nothing to his ego, he enjoyed it actually, “Very well. Do me.”

Your mouth dropped in shock, eyes narrowing in on him as you splashed him with the cold water, “Stupid man!”

“You called me a chore, so let’s get it done.”

You huffed quietly, turning away from him before clicking your tongue softly, an ilu rising from the water. The docile animal nuzzled its head against your hand, chirping happily at the attention, “This is an ilu.”

“Really?”

You looked back at him, throwing him an angry glare. “Go on, mount her.”

“Can we go ahead and skip to the Tsurak?”

You rolled your eyes, “No we cannot. They are very difficult animals to tame and you are not ready.”

That jab did annoy Jake, only a bit, but still. He scoffed quietly, “I claimed a Toruk, I can tame a Tsurak.”

Maybe it was your annoyance with the whole situation, with your sister and Tonowari, with the man next to you, but you wanted to see him fail. You wanted to rub it into his face that he was in fact, not ready. “Very well, Jake Sully.”

He was a bit suspicious at your willingness to oblige but decided against commenting on it, excited to show off to you. “Either way, the Tsurak do not swim by here, you need to mount an ilu so we can get there.”

You swiftly connected your queue to an ilu that was swimming by, mounting the animal with ease. Jake followed your motions, feeling the strength of the animal course through him. You said nothing else, only moving forward through the water. He was glad you were ahead of him, you missed the way his body jolted roughly as the animal began to move. Maybe he was getting a bit ahead of himself, but he was never one to back down from a challenge.

The swim to the Tsaruk was quiet, the only noise was the sound of the water crashing against your bodies. You cut the Tsaheylu bond, diving into the water for a brief second before coming back up.

“We are here. Off.”

Jake tried his best to follow your motions, but dismounting his ilu was far less graceful than yours. It was only for a brief second but he felt nerves bubble in his chest. “Since it is only the two of us, I will need your help to catch one. Which will only make this all the more difficult for you.”

“Thank you for your words of encouragement.” His words dripped with sarcasm, and it caused your eyes to roll. “I am not here to coddle you. I am here to teach.”

Jake said nothing else, just watching you swim by the animals, “Much like your bird, a skimwing will pick you. By trying to attack you, so be ready.”

In the next instant you were swimming away from Jake and he was surrounded by the large animals. The majority of them scattered away, only nipping in his direction lightly before leaving. But there was one, larger than most, that began to circle Jake, nipping harshly in his direction. Jake’s ear barely missed and his heart started to thump roughly against his chest. “Okay! Now you must grip on the handle, and use the rope to tie yourself to the animal!”

You had begun to swim towards Jake, ready to pounce on the animal to deter it from thrashing around. Jake listened to your instructions, gripping tightly onto the handle before throwing half his weight on. The animal trashed around, screeching in annoyance as Jake tried to wrap his wrist. You jumped on the animal's lower end, trapping its lower wings between your legs, “Hurry up!”

Jake grunted in exhaustion, he was not as lean as he had once been, the task proving to be more difficult than he liked. With a final wrap of his wrist, Jake threw his leg over the animal, “Go!”

You released the animal's wings and he was off in the next instant, “Let your legs fall flat against him before you dip back into the water!”

Jake tried to follow your instructions, after easily positioning himself when the animal took flight, but he lost his footing when dipping into the water. The leather strap unwrapped from his wrist as he got dragged deeper and deeper. He felt the sting as he finally released his hand, swimming up quickly to try and fill his lungs with air. “Fuck!”

He raised his hand, it was raw with cuts, throbbing aggressively in his palm.

“Are you alright?” Your voice was dripping with your amusement, you weren't even trying to hide the smile on your face.

“Peachy.”

Your face scrunched up in confusion, not understanding the word that fell from his mouth. After calming down he looked at you again, his eyes glossed over a bit as the sun glimmered off the teal of your skin.

Jake could not place what it was, but he wanted to impress you. He felt the need to prove himself to you. Maybe it was the way you were unwilling to bend the knee to anyone’s will and he enjoyed the challenge. So the words slipped off his tongue as he watched you, “Again.”

[suuuupernovaaa]

muntxa si

MUNTXA SI: (english) to mate with, marry

(Adult) Neteyam vehemently opposes his human mate becoming Na’vi, for fear of losing her.

This story makes many assumptions - just go with them to enjoy the ride.

2,247 words.

The strength with which Neteyam opposed the idea, right from the very start, was a shock to everyone who knew him. When his mother first mentioned it, she saw a familiar fury in his eyes, one she knew she’d worn many times. 

His brother nearly lost his head when he brought it up, and his father hadn’t even tried to broach the subject.

What he didn’t know was that they weren’t bringing it up of their own accord, though it was something they’d thought about before. They were bringing it up because I had brought it up to them first.

I was the only one who wasn’t shocked by his reaction. I knew that all Neteyam would see was the danger and risk involved, and there was nothing more detestable to Neteyam than putting me in harm’s way. This was a sometimes annoying but mostly reassuring trait of his, especially given that, as a human living on Pandora, danger was lurking around nearly every corner for me. Ewya had blessed me with a strong and capable - but slightly overbearing - protector.

After weeks of his family telling me it was me who would have to convince him, I finally plucked up the courage.

We sat in our Mauri pod, late at night, and the words spilled out of my mouth before I could fully control them.

“I want to become Na’vi. Norm has an Avatar for me, he’s been hiding it since I was little, and he told me on my 20th birthday. It’s fully mature now.”

Neteyam sat at the edge of our pod, his legs dangling over the edge and into the water, and he spun around so fast that his braids smacked the wall of the Mauri.

His eyes narrowed and he lowered his chin. “No.”

Taking a deep breath beneath my mask, I stood up. “You don’t get to decide for me, Teyam. I have decided, and I know the clan will support me.”

“No!” He was standing too now, towering over me at nearly twice my height, but he could never scare or intimate me, even if he truly tried.

“Listen to me, Neteyam. You are only thinking of the risk involved, and not the reward. I can’t survive here forever, as one of the last humans. What if the air tanks run out? How will we live our lives together, with me in this human body? Have you considered the fact that your lifespan is twice mine? What will you do when I am too old, even, to run and swim? I won’t live like that, Neteyam!”

I felt hot tears in my eyes, and tried to blink them away in frustration. “You can’t force me to live a half-life with you when a full life is within my grasp! I know Ewya will give this to me. She wouldn’t have brought me to you if she didn’t want us to be together.”

Neteyam’s hands rested on my shoulders, enveloping me, stressing to the both of us our impractical size difference.

“Y/N... you don’t know that she will give this to us. She may take you home to her.”

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath, trying to ignore the panic I could see in his face. 

“I have to do this, Neteyam. We won’t have a future together if I don’t. Norm and the others... they talk about having to leave, without a permanent colony here. Their supplies won’t last forever. They would either take me, or leave me here to die with no oxygen.”

Neteyam pulled me down, so we were sitting face to face, our legs crossed.

“I cannot lose you, Y/N.”

“This is our best chance, Neteyam. Please. Please let me do this.”

As much as I had been pretending it was only my choice, and I didn’t need his permission, I knew I couldn’t do it without his blessing. That just wasn’t something I could do to Ma Teyam. 

I watched his chest rise and fall with deep breaths as he contemplated.

“We will do this, Y/N, and if Ewya takes you, I will follow you to her myself and bring you back.”

-- 

It took time to plan - time that was exciting for all of us. We decided to fly back to the Tree of Souls to give my human body the best chance, since with the Metkayina, the ceremony would have to take place under water.

The Omatikaya welcomed the Sullys, and one sky person, back with open arms. After all, it wasn’t as if I was a stranger to them - I had many friends to greet, as well.

The ceremony was set for the night after our return. Neteyam was quiet at dinner, and his mother watched him cautiously.

“Son,” she said, handing him a plate, “I see the spirit within Y/N. It reminds me of your father - strong, stubborn, a little frustrating.” She smiled, but Neteyam couldn’t bring himself to follow suit. “She will be okay.”

She gripped her son’s arm and he nodded, but the sinking feeling in his chest was there to stay, until the ceremony was complete.

--

Neteyam walked with me, hand and hand, through the large crowd there to witness my birth - or my funeral.

I could feel the tension radiating through his body, but no matter what I said, I wasn’t able to ease it for him. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous, myself.

There she lay - me, but not me. Tall, with long, thick black hair and eyes that would surely be a piercing gold when opened. She was beautiful; it was the first I was seeing her.

“Oh, Neteyam...” I said, a lump in my throat, and gripped his arm tightly as we approached the tree.

He placed his hand over mine. “You can still change your mind,” he said, but with a sly smile, the first I’d seen him wear in a while - he knew there was little chance of that.

He lifted me up and placed me next to my new body, where the spiritual leader of the Omatikaya waited, a serene and focused look on her face.

She gestured for me to lay down, and I turned to Neteyam. Maybe it was the proximity to the Tree of Souls, but I felt a calm - and tried to convey it to Neteyam with a smile. His family stood behind him, taking their seats to join the ceremony. Neteyam would stay with me until it was done.

He nodded, and I could practically see his heart beating through his chest as he helped me to lay down, my head inches from my avatar’s.

“You will sleep now. Be calm,” a voice above me said, and I had only time to tell Neteyam I loved him before I sank away.

--

Watching her eyes close, a panic gripped Neteyam’s heart and he felt as if he could vomit in front of the entire clan.

He turned and sought his mother, and would have been embarrassed to do so in any other situation. She was seated between his brother and father, all holding hands with eyes closed, chanting to Ewya.

He watched as Ewya reached up, covering his mate in feather light touches, and he put his hands on her, praying to Ewya, reminding Ewya how much this human woman meant to him.

Silently, he told Ewya of the first time they’d met, at only six years old, and of their first kiss at 12, how she fought with him through the Great War despite her size, how long it took him to work up the courage to ask her to be his mate, and how they cried together when she said yes.

This woman is my life, Great Mother, he prayed, I ask that you return her to me in either body here, and we will make the most of this life we have together.

Every minute felt like an hour, and then the Tsahik reached over and pulled the mask off of his love’s face.

She was gone, at least from this form.

“She is passing through Ewya now, Neteyam, and you must guide her back,” the Tsahik said.

He leapt carefully over to her avatar body, taking it in for the first time. Those were her lips, the shape of her eyes, the sharp dip between her nose and mouth - all his favorite things about her, right here.

“Yawne,” he said, reaching out to touch her soft face, “can you hear me? Follow my voice. Come back to me so that we may return home together, and live the life you promised me.”

He looked to the Tsahik, who nodded in encouragement and resumed chanting. The cries of the clan rose around him, his father and mother’s the loudest, and he steadied his shaking body with a deep breath.

“Y/N, Yawne, hear my voice and follow it. I will wait for you forever - remember the promise I made. Do not deliver two souls to Ewya this day.”

He nearly shot back when the woman before him took a gasping breath, and amber eyes shot open.

--

It’s impossible to describe how it happens. It’s not a wordly experience, and there are no words to properly convey it.

Ewya is real, and she gave me a second chance at life.

Neteyam’s face hovered inches above mine as I gasped for air. He slipped his hand around the back of my neck and pulled me up, and even in this new body, in my disoriented state, I was acutely aware that I was naked.

“Yawne,” Neteyam whispered, and I saw the tears spilling from his eyes. He only called me Yawne - beloved - once before, when he asked me to be his mate.

“Tiyawn,” I replied, my voice breathy and almost foreign to my ears. My ears! I reached up, trailing my hand over my thick hair and reaching up to feel the pointy, blue ears atop my head. A giggle escaped before I could stop it.

“Can you stand?” he asked, gripping my arms.

I leaned into him. “I am naked.”

“You are Na’vi now,” he replied with almost a shrug, “but I will carry you if it concerns you.”

“I think you should, my legs feel weak.”

They felt strong. My entire body felt strong, and I couldn’t wait to learn how to use it. 

I glanced over my shoulder to see myself. My former self. As Neteyam lifted me into his arms and stood up, I thought I should cry for her... but she didn’t feel like me, not anymore. 

The clan cheered and whooped, hollered and threw their arms triumphant in the air, as Neteyam stood with me and let out what sounded like a war cry, shaking me in his arms.

The joy in his face was like nothing I had ever seen before. It was beautiful, especially seen through these new eyes.

He rushed through the crowd, to his Ikran, and mounted in one fell swoop with me in his arms.

The Ikran felt so much smaller than she had when we’d arrived less than an hour ago, but of course, I was the one who had grown over three feet.

He took off, holding the saddle with one arm and me tightly in the other, to a place we could be alone.

--

Back at our temporary home, I was finally able to take a breath and try my new body out. For my first few steps, I had to hold Neteyam’s hands, until I got the hang of it.

I felt weak, but I knew that would wear off. This body was strong, and I was going to make it even stronger, so I could finally keep up with Neteyam.

The thought made me burst into tears as he searched through his mother’s things for something I could wear.

“What is it, Y/N? Do you hurt?” he asked, rushing to my side with only a necklace in his hands.

Embarrassed, I tried to wave him off, but he was too on edge. “Tell me, Yawne. Tell me what you need.”

I threw my arms around his neck and pulled him tightly to me. My face rested perfectly on his chest, where before, it was just over his waist - making hugging an awkward feat. We fit perfectly together now, and it made me cry even harder.

“I’m just so happy and grateful, Neteyam.” I pulled back, wiping at my tears. “Tell me what you think.”

“What I think?” he asked, turning his head to the side.

“Of... me. Of my body. Do you still, I mean, do you like it?”

His gaze softened and he reached up to cup my cheek. “I have loved you for 15 years, Y/N. I loved you human form. Your small body, your beautiful soft hair, and your light eyes. I loved every moment of our life together.”

The tears threatened to return.

“But this... this is my dream, Y/N. I see it now, what you’ve always seen. You were meant to be one of The People, to be with me, to be the mother of my children and my mate for life.”

A smile spread across my new face so wide, I thought it might crack. “I love you, Neteyam.”

He pulled me into his strong arms, and we took a deep breath together.

“Forever,” he whispered in my ear.

I squeezed him tight. “Forever.”

[pakhnokh]

Today, House of Gentians is one year old 🥳🎊🎉

You won’t believe the story of how it began….

I was 7 months pregnant, and have been suffering from intense itching in my lower legs for a month. I googled it and saw that it’s a warning sign during pregnancy and can have dangerous consequences so I went to my obgyn and he referred me to take a blood test to check it.

Fortunately it was clear from that problem, but we didn’t know the reason for the itching. He did say that some women suffered from an allergic reaction like this but he suggested that I go to a dermatologist to be sure.

So finding an appointment to a dermatologist in my country right away is a nightmare, and by some miracle I found someone who had a place for me in a few days but in another city. So I took the buss and went there and the doctor was there with a student who was working with him. Anyways he was extremely nice to me and that’s something completely odd with the doctors here, that make you feel as if you’re annoying them. He was really nice, checked me thoroughly, looked at my scratching wounds with a magnifying glass and all the while was talking with great enthusiasm to that student. Later at my second appointment I realized that the reason for this was that he treated me like a case study to show how pro he is to that student cause when he was alone in the second time, he was a complete jerk to me.

Anyways, at that first appointment he decided with great certainty that what causes my itch is scabies. And as someone who considered this possibility and checked for signs of a bug infestation, especially since I have experience with other bugs, this seemed unlikely. And I’m like, telling him of all the reasons that don’t match, like the fact that my husband sleeps in the same bed and he doesn’t suffer from it and for me it’s been an experience of a month now. Surely a thing such as bug bites would affect him too, no? But he was so determined and told me “your husband gonna get it soon probably” so he gave me a prescription for creams and told me to wash all textiles in my house at a high degree, and everything that can’t be washed, to close in plastic bags and leave the house for 3 days. And like I said, as someone who already had experience with another bug infestation this was something that I already knew how to do even if at first it sounds like a pain in the ass.

So I got home, told my husband, who really opposed this idea, but I insisted on it, especially cause if the doctor was right and there IS an infestation, then we have to treat it immediately before baby is due. So I did everything the doctor said, we packed some clean stuff and moved to live with his parents for 3 days. Like I said, later we discovered that the doctor was wrong, because nothing helped and the itching continued till the moment I gave birth, proving my obgyn was right and it was, what’s called “pruritus of pregnancy”, a severe itch that is not dangerous, but can appear in some cases. I still carry those itching scars on my legs btw, even though they’re faint now 🤣🤣

Anyways what the hell does this embarrassing story have to do with House of Gentians? It was on the first day we lived with his parents and I was working on the exclusive art I make for my patrons. I was in the coloring and rendering stage and it’s really a work that makes you be really focused on details and etc… I was already so tired, but when evening came and I was done with the piece, which is still one of my favs btw:

I still wanted to draw, something quick and sketchy to “free my hand”. I just opened a new canvas and started sketching. At first I wanted to draw yllz seducing lwj, as if he was taken to cr after all and things got hot 👀🔥 But then I changed his teasing, smug expression to a sad one, and decided that it’s gonna be a Yiling Laozu who came back to Gusu with lwj and was put in LWJ’s mother’s house as his waifu 👀👀👀 and this idea had a dark side at first, with my horny mind thinking of yllz performing the duties of a spouse with lwj 👀👀👀👀 and it’s gonna be love/hate between them both.

I was really hurrying this sketch too, because my husband was calling me to our evening quality time of having toasts while watching a series on Netflix so I posted it quickly on Twitter and left. When I opened the app again that night I was really surprised to see all the excited comments on this simple sketch I did, but they really inspired me to go on, just like your comments inspire me till this very day ❤️

And just look at it now, each week I’m working on more 4 pages, it turned to be the longest comic I did in my entire 25 years of drawing (160 pages till this day and counting) and I already have the entire plot written with like 9-10 arcs planned overall 🤣 Drawing this consistently also helped improve my art, as I look at the first drawings compared to the most recent ones I can see the progress I made and hope to continue making!

So thank you all for the love and support and the wonderful comments that inspire me to give you more parts each week!

And as a b-day gift, I give you a sneak peek to a panel from page 110 that I kinda like how it turned out

[bones4thecats]

The Gamma-Brothers Sharing Their S/O

Characters: Gamma 1 and Gamma 2 (POLY) Inspired By: My love for these two dumbos A/N: This turned out a lot angstier than intended in the middle, but it does end softly so be happy for that. Anyways, sorry this took longer to come out, been working on a lot of new projects irl. Now, enjoy this beautiful thing with my android besties <3 ⚠️ Spoilers/Trigger Warnings for: Mentions of bombings, death, and being in a traumatic event involving a tall building ⚠️

Disclaimer: This is what I used as the Reader's cape and outfit

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╚═════ Gamma 1 and Gamma 2 ════════════════════╝

🦈🐳 The Yin to the Yang of siblings. You are no doubt the line that separated the two from becoming the same, appreciating their differences despite the disdain of it from not just Commander Magenta and his right-hand, Carmine

🦈🐳 You, as a Bio-Android created by Dr. Hedo, were made to save everyone and defeat all those that opposed justice. Though, you were more lower when it came to strength than the Gammas, but that didn't mean you were weak

🦈🐳 Gamma 1 and 2 did a lot to keep you up to date with their fighting styles and moved. Constantly asking to spar or to make sure your frame was easy to move so you wouldn't glitch in the middle of a fight

🦈 Gamma 1 adores to sit somewhere quiet and just be beside you. He prefers the more one-on-one time with you, believing memories were far more important than any kind of 'in-the-moment entertainment'

🐳 Gamma 2 on the other hand... enjoys pretty much everything the opposite of his brother. He loves to grab your hand, fly with you around the city and mess around until getting called in for a mission that involved danger for the civilians

🦈🐳 It was during one of those calmer moments with the duo that you three were beeped by Dr. Hedo for an accident happening just a few streets away. You stood, your cape draping behind you as you stood up and got ready to fly off

🦈 Gamma 1 looked at you and nodded, pushing himself off the ground with his brother and you following suite. He was slightly annoyed that an accident happened during your time relaxing, but... who is he to dismiss such an important thing?

🐳 His brother was a different story once again. Gamma 2 had a slightly pouty expression on his face as you flew. You just sighed and landed on the ground with the boys, readying yourself for anything that you faced

🦈🐳 A woman ran outside of a building, charging at you three with a panicked expression. You caught her just before she fell and you asked what was going on inside of the building standing tall

"Something happened in the medical lab! There was a- uh- box! It blew up or something! You have to get up there and save the others, please! My son's up there!"

"What floor did the main explosion come from, ma'am?" Gamma 1 asked.

"Floor 19! Please! Help him!"

🦈🐳 You handed the woman to the nearest medics before getting a plan with the Gammas and flying inside of the building to search for any survivors from the wreckage

🦈🐳 Gamma 2 took the highest floors, those being 23 to 35, Gamma 1 took the lowest, 17 to the first, and you took the middle of 18 till you reached 22

🦈🐳 The smoke was massive, and the amount of damage caused from the apparent explosion was surprising. Well, as surprising as it could be for you

🦈🐳 Grabbing the nearest structure as you walked through everything, you heard a group of people screaming from around the corner. You sprinted as fast as you could go without causing anymore damage accidentally before coming to a closed-off door

🦈🐳 Picking up piece by piece of the surrounding debris, you eventually reached the door. Opening it, you saw four people bending themselves to fit inside of the office filled with more damage than the other rooms you had come across

🦈🐳 Comming the Gammas, you noticed a young girl gripping for dear life onto her mother's blouse. You slightly twitched, having a small flashback to everything before now... when you actually had some kind of innocence, and you snapped

"You two better hurry up! We've got four civilians, including one young girl, approximately 7 years old. We're on floor 22 right now."

🦈🐳 Kneeling down as you heard the surroundings crack under pressure, you looked into the little girl's eyes, making her sniff and hug her mother tighter

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I'm a good guy, here to help you all out of here as fast and carefully as possible." You said, holding you hand out for her to touch gently.

"L-like a superhero?" She asked.

"Just like it."

🦈🐳 The girl gave a small smile before gasping at the sight of a pillar falling down in your direction. In a fit of anger, you bunched your hand up in a fist, you looked back and smashed it, successfully keeping the more damaging pieces away from the civilians behind you

"Y/N! You in there?" You heard Gamma 2 scream.

"Yeah! Come on! I don't think this building's gonna last that much longer!"

🦈🐳 The two other Androids came in your view, picking up two civilians each. You grabbed the young girl, shielding her with your arm as you burst out from the floor and down to the ground, handing off the girl to another medic before hearing the woman from earlier screaming for her son

🦈🐳 Sighing, you looked at the Gammas, and they looked at one another sadly. They must've found the boy deceased... how unfortunate for the woman...

"Ma'am, may I speak with you?" You asked as the woman looked at you with hope.

🦈🐳 That night, you held your boyfriends close to you. They listened as you sobbed for hours on end. The explosion had cost the city thousands of dollars of damages, but more importantly, they lost over 50 lives, including the son of that woman you met at the scene

🦈 Gamma 1 laid with his back against the head of the bed, your face buried into his chest as you cried, yelling about how you could've done something, that if you had only gotten there faster... He just sighed sadly and pet your head, trying to keep you from breaking down even farther. He may be made of metal, but you were his soft spot

🐳 Gamma 2 had his face on your chest, hushing you as he kept you covered and cuddled to the best of his abilities. He took his cape off and laid it on your like a blanket in an attempt to keep you calm like his brother. You eventually calmed down with him telling you a story from his early years and him learning about the human body's weak spots

🦈🐳 The brothers smiled as you rested, powering down to recharge. Gamma 1 looked at Gamma 2, raising his finger to his mouth to shush him. Gamma 2 just nodded and cuddled into you, powering down himself, following a couple minutes later by the oldest of you three

🦈🐳 You three may be heroes, but you had your own weaknesses like any other being. Gamma 1 and 2 just so happened to be able to keep you safe so those weaknesses couldn't harm you all that much

[somber-sapphic]

Hi!! Um so I just read your Carina DeLuca x Maya Bishop x Reader and now I’m opposed. Your writing got me into this ship and this show bahaha- and speaking of your writing I f*cking love it. Literally lights up my day/days whenever I read one of your posts and I get so excited ahaha so legitimately thank you🥲 if possible could you do another one of Carina DeLuca x Maya Bishop x Reader? Idrc about what prompt, just like a bad situation, to worse to better you know. If you don’t want to write for them I’d love to read another WandaNat x Reader🫣 (but if u really need a prompt something like insult to injury) thank you!

I hope you’re doing okay and it’s okay if you aren’t <3 and hopefully u are taking care of yourself. I’ve been reading ur fics for ages so if u ever need like a randoms imaginary shoulder to cry on I’ve got you ;) 🌸

Worse Alone

I am so, so sorry it took me so long to get to you 🌸! I can't express in words how much what you said means to me though, like (and I say this a lot, I know, but it's true) stuff like this truly gives me so much motivation. I love you so much and I will give you my imaginary shoulder any day that you need it. Btw, you don't have to sensor your swears unless you truly want to, I am the queen of obscenities <3

[[Summary]] Smoke and semi-working lungs don't go too well together. But you have a job to do. (marina x reader)

Word Count: 1.8k

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A five-hour blaze wasn’t something that anyone wanted to deal with, but it was something that you and your team knew how to deal with. Of course, it was dangerous for everyone around, but it was also thrilling. You all ran into fires for a reason, the eight of you were adrenaline junkies who felt the irresistible need to save lives. 

Every so often after a particularly rough day Maya, Carina, and you would just curl up together in bed, no one sleeping despite how exhausted the three of you would be. The brunette would alternate between stroking your hair and rubbing Maya’s back, cushioned in between the two of you as if she needed the pressure to prove to her that you both were safe. 

To call today a ‘rough day’ would be an understatement. Thankfully everyone had survived, but a young woman had been sent to Grey Sloan with severe burns, screaming about her baby. The baby, a severely annoyed two-year-old, was thankfully fine. The little boy had been distracted fairly quickly as the other paramedics checked him over, focusing on the stethoscope which he for some reason found absolutely fascinating. 

His mother was rushed to the burn unit but from what you and everyone else knew she was holding strong and the boy's other mom was taking care of him. That wasn’t the worst part though. The worst part was that your body was utterly pissed with you for deciding to treat it so badly and it was taking it out on you at the worst possible time. 

You had done the best that you could when it came to fighting the blaze, resisting the urge to attach yourself to an oxygen tank even when you were outside of the house, away from the smoke. Entering the house was an atrocious idea, but your girlfriend was in there. You had ignored Andy’s orders and raced to rescue the woman you loved.

The blonde knew that you weren’t feeling very well, she had heard you coughing in the bathroom before the call had come in and had tried to convince you to go home. Then of course the alarm sounded and there was nothing that either of you could do. Sure you wanted to be anywhere but inside a burning building with your lungs already starved for oxygen, but it wasn’t like you had much of a choice. 

Maya was fine, momentarily hindered when a piece of the roof collapsed leaving her needing to find a new way to get herself out. You had helped despite her protests that she could do it on her own and that you needed to leave. Instead of doing what she asked of you, you took the time to help her get out, working strategically and quickly around the debris. 

You made it through without passing out even a little bit and the fire was finally extinguished. When you got outside you pulled your helmet off and half stumbled over to Ben in search of oxygen. He noticed your struggle and passed over a mask, asking repeatedly if you were okay as you sat down on the bumper of the Aid Car, your gear practically pulling you down. Gravity was not working in your favor. 

��Y/n, let me take your jacket off,” Ben ordered, sounding like a doctor. He was a doctor. The damn man had too many careers, it sometimes frustrated you just how accomplished he was. 

“Back off, Probie.” You rasped, shrugging him away. Technically you had rank over him, so technically you could order him around. The loophole totally worked for you as long as it mean that he’d leave you alone. You didn’t have any problem with Ben as a person, he was actually a pretty nice dude, but you had absolutely no wish to be ‘Doctored’ right now.

You were expecting to be yelled at, but thankfully Andy hadn’t come over to shout while you were still on the scene. You could see her casting you frustrated looks while she talked to your girlfriend, but left it alone. That only lasted until you got to the station.

“L/n!” Andy yelled, stomping over to you. She looked angry but also concerned. Maya was beside her, wearing a similar expression. “What the hell were you thinking? You endangered every one of us!” The captain snapped, glaring down at you. 

You stood to meet her gaze, trying to look less weak than you felt. Fighting her on this was probably a poor decision, but you had no intention to take this lying down. 

“I was doing my job, Captain.” You bit back. Andy bristled at the comment, rage hardening in her eyes. The woman beside her bit back what would definitely be a remake would probably upset everyone and reserved herself to a slight shake of the head. 

“Check. Your. Tone. L/n. I am your boss, not your punching bag. I don’t care that you aren’t feeling well, that doesn’t give you an excuse to be an ass. You could have gotten yourself and others hurt.” Now it was your turn to bristle. 

“Maya was trapped, she needed-”

“She needed you to do what you are told instead of ignoring direct orders. You aren’t the only one on this team Y/n, do you understand that? If you ever do something so stupid again I will have you suspended. For now, you will be taking two weeks paid leave. Take care of yourself. Come back when you’re done making stupid decisions.” Her voice softened on the last sentence, expression fading from stern boss to worried friend. 

You sagged slightly, shrugged, and looked over at Maya in hopes to find support there. 

“Come on Y/n. Carina’s off today, I bet she’ll make you some soup.” She held out a hand and part of you didn’t want to take it. Part of you wanted to prove yourself to your boss, but Maya’s offer was too good to pass up. Carina made the best soup and she was always so good at knowing exactly what you needed. 

You took the hand and allowed yourself to be led out of the station, ignoring everyone’s kind words and well wishes. Maya got you situated in the car, both of you silent. She was incredibly gentle, brushing your hair away from your face and lingering a bit with her touches, but she was still frustrated with you. It was okay, you understood. You had scared her. 

The ride home was quick and quiet. You were half asleep and Maya was listening to the radio, your cough overpowering the soft music. Carina would probably insist that you sleep with at least two humidifiers tonight, but it wouldn't matter, at least you’d be with them. 

You let your eyes slip closed and you leaned against the cool window, shivering in your loose clothes. You wanted your bed and someone to hold you. Unfortunately, you’d have to wait for those things. They’d probably make you shower before you were allowed to climb into the bed.

You were right. The second you got into the house Carina was all over you, asking a flurry of questions and speaking in rapid-fire Italian about your condition. Normally you loved to listen to speak the language that you didn't understand, but now it was just messing with your mind. 

She had ordered you and Maya into the bathroom, promising to have your room made up with whatever she believed that you would need to feel better. The shower was nice enough. Maya washed your hair, allowing you to lean back against her in your exhaustion. It was tough to stay standing, but she was there, making sure that you would be okay. 

“M’sorry.” You rasped, blinking teary eyes at the worried looking blonde. She tilted her head to the side and smiled, gripping your elbows tightly. 

“Babe, I just want you to be safe. I’m sorry you don’t feel well. I wish that you had told one of us sooner, then you would have gotten to be with Carina all day. It could have been a good day, not an awful one. Okay?” You nodded your understanding and sniffled softly, your nose running in what you were sure was a disgusting way. Maya looked at you lovingly nonetheless. 

When the brunette said that she was going to get everything you could possibly need, she had really meant it. The room that the three of you shared was decked out in everything one would want for a sick day. Boxes of tissues, a mug of tea on the bedside sitting beside a glass of apple juice, three humidifiers, a bottle of cold medicine, a fluffy blanket, and extra pillows.

“You did that pretty fast, Car.” You forced out, climbing into the bed with the help of both of your girlfriends. Maya followed and wrapped her arms around your waist, holding you close while Carina measured out a dose of medicine. 

“Si, I work quickly. Now open your mouth, I want to see how high your temperature is.” She was in work mode right now, they’d be time for joking after you did what you were told. You pouted but opened your mouth, holding the thermometer under your tongue. The brunette carded her fingers through your hair as you waited for the reading, looking utterly disappointed. 

“102.3, oh Y/n, no wonder you do not feel well. Take this, alright? Then you can go to sleep.” She kissed your forehead, prompting you to obey her wishes. You were a sucker for physical attention, even more so when you were sick. 

The medicine tasted like you licked a fake plastic cherry and stung your throat, but it was what it was. Both women smiled when you finished it and you got twin kisses on each of your cheeks. These women were amazing. 

You felt your eyes fill with tears and you ducked your head, not wanting to show them that you were about to cry. That was just too much, they didn’t need to deal with your unnecessary emotions at the same time. 

“Oh baby, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” Maya crooned, tilting your chin back up so that you were forced to meet her crystal blue eyes. You felt Carina’s arms slip around your waist as she sat on your other side and that was about all that you could take. 

You broke into stifled sobs and pressed your head against the blonde's shoulder in search of comfort. You didn’t want to talk about it, you just wanted to cry. Which was stupid, because earlier you had been completely fine. Now you were bawling like a baby in the arms of your girlfriends. 

Neither of them said anything while you cried, they just let you, holding you close until you were too tired to cry anymore. You didn’t actually remember falling asleep, all that you knew was that one minute it was dark out, and the next you were laying down with your head on Carina’s chest, both of the women asleep beside you. 

Your body still hurt and you still felt disgusting, but at least you weren’t alone. Being sick and alone was worse than being sick with people who loved you.

[squgs]

HOTD and Ambiguity

So given that House of the dragon covers nearly 20 years of history (30 if you count the prologue), and a shit ton of characters in ten hours of television there's a lot of events that we don't see and ambiguities around characters. Characters rarely state their motivations and there are reasons to doubt them when they do. It is very easy to make wildly different claims about characters which, while incompatible with each other, can't really be disproved by the show so far. For example Daemon can be a pedo groomer abuser who just wants the throne, or a feminist malewife who will do anything for his queen. Neither of those are explicitly disproven by what we see on screen, though that is not to say that they're equally reasonable readings (I think that the 2nd is pretty ridiculous to be honest).

These different readings of scenes and characters and lines have contributed to the pretty ugly fandom discourse since there is enough evidence for mutually exclusive claims to argue extensively. Whoever your favorite character is you can twist the shown events in order to make them seem like a hero and for everyone who opposes them to be terrible. However I don't have anything worthwhile to say on that, so I want to talk about the writing on its own instead.

Now having uncertain motives can be interesting writing wise (show don't tell and all that), but I think that as House of the Dragon's first season continued it ran into more and more problems around this, especially with the time jumps and actor changes. When character's motives and wants are unclear after the time jumps first impressions are what will decide how most people view them. So when we first see Rhaenyra giving birth, and we first see Alicent trying to separate a newborn from her mother, and we first see Criston calling Rhaenyra a slur and we first see Harwin being a protective father and we first see Aegon bullying his brother, it adds up. Those first impressions are then applied forward and backwards leading to the idea that Alicent and Criston have been abusing Rhaenyra for ten years, and that in the training yard Criston the incel fucked around with Harwin and then found out (my read is that Criston the step-dad took advantage of Harwin being an entitled ass to get him fired).

(Side note about Criston: While the exact thinking behind his downward spiral in episode 5 is ambiguous, the scene between him and Rhaenyra in episode 4 is unambiguously rape given that he tells her to stop and she doesn't.)

In that way the show encourages very one sided readings of complicated and ambiguous scenes, leading to people either being annoyed that the show ignores all the terrible things that the greens are doing, or that it's unfairly biased against them. That's a problem, but things don't completely fall apart until episodes 9 and 10 when people start going to war. For all of the characters we still have no idea what they are fighting for. If we ask why Alicent crowns Aegon we have a bunch of possible answers:

Because she thinks Viserys told her to. This is stupid and I hate it.

Because she fears for her children's lives. This is a good reason, but it has not been brought up since episode 6 despite episodes 7 and 8 both featuring moments that would certainly validate that fear.

Internalized misogyny. This one makes no sense to me, and I haven't seen any convincing evidence for Alicent specifically having more internalized misogyny than any of the other women on the show. However it could be interesting if it was actually seen beforehand.

Ambition and pride. This isn't really seen in the show, but it certainly seems like an understandable feeling for Alicent to have after suffering through an abusive marriage for 20 years and being denied the two things that women are promised through marriage (her husband's protection of her and her children, and the inheritance of her son)

Now if we ask why Rhaenyra wants the crown enough to go to war for it (she agrees to lay siege to king's landing before Luke dies so I'm ignoring that) we have a similarly confusing list of possibilities:

Her dad told her to. This is the reason that I think fits best, but it isn't really delved into. I think there would be a lot of rich interesting stuff with Rhaenyra evaluating her father's legacy and whether she wants to continue it, but Rhaenyra never seems to acknowledge how much bad shit her father has done.

So she can fulfill the prophecy. This is stupid.

Ambition and pride. Also aren't really seen, but certainly understandable and believable.

She fears for her children. This also isn't really shown at all, but you could argue that she fears her children will be killed either to protect Aegon's claim or to put an actual Valeryon on the throne of Driftmark. However we don't really know Rhaenyra's view of the political situation.

To destroy the patriarchy. This would be interesting, but we don't really see her wanting to do that. We do see her usurp Baela's claim to Driftmark in episode 8 though.

These issues get even worse with the more minor characters, the worst example being Rhaenys for whom all her possible motivations contradict her previous actions and opinions:

To protect/honor her grand daughters: if this is what she wants why doesn't she take Alicent's offer of Driftmark, giving her granddaughters an inheritance and keeping them out of the war?

To protect Luke and Jace: she never shows them any affection except maybe in the background of the eye gouging aftermath.

Feminism: if she is willing to go to war in order to have a queen on the iron throne why didn't she fight for her own claim?

Because she wants peace: then why didn't she accept Alicent's offer which was made in the name of peace? Literally as soon as she and Corlys put their support behind Rhaenyra, Rhaenyra stops considering making peace.

Because she trusts Rhaenyra more than the greens: Why? She thinks that Rhaenyra and Daemon killed at least one of her children, she saw Daemon murder her brother in law and we have no reason to think she knows of any misdeeds done by the greens.

All these unclear motivations make the themes of the stories non-existent. The dance could have all sorts of different thematic meanings, all built around what is being fought for and against. It would be fascinating if Alicent and Rhaenyra were both fighting for ambition, making the show about how women are pitted against each other by patriarchy or if they were both fighting for their children and the show is about the cruelty of the system that doesn't allow power to be shared and forces branches of families to fight until one side is wiped out. However, for any meaning to be clear the writers have to know what it is and they have to write their characters with that meaning in mind. Hopefully the show can be more clear going forward, but I don't exactly expect that, and I think that without a coherent set up it's not going to mean much when bodies start dropping next season.

[paperstarwriters]

ive come kneeling at your doorstep to beg for that essay on murio and luciels parallels you mentioned 👀💦👉👈

i love loathing lucio so much so it would deal my lil hater ass so much psychic damage and i cannot wait to get rekt

(onlyifyouwanttothoofcoursetakeyourtime)(just making sure youre aware id print that shit n frame it above my bed were it to come to existence)

Hello @tetsuooooooooooo! I know you said I can take my time, ok I'm still really really sorry this took awhile, I've been kinda burnt out from classes lately, and writing a bunch of essays for that lol, but I've managed to make a somewhat coherent argument for my case here lol.

Now, to preface this:

I only really like Lucio as a character to thematically dissect and kick around occasionally for giggles. I am a far, far cry from a Lucio stan, I just find him interesting—like a bug. Honestly I don't think I'm gonna convince you he's in any way a good guy I just might make you loathe him more 😅

I haven't played Lucio's route. I'm too busy and I get too annoyed with some of his antics + the options of reactions that MC is allowed to make. I've only played the side stories and a lot of my understanding of his character is built from Muriel's route (and I know he's much more different in his own route than he is in the others') as well as hearsay from other people talking about Lucio

I know I said that I'd include Aurora's songs in my original statement but that got wayyyyyyy too messy so I'm just opting to exclude them lol. (not to mention youtube is doing a very irritatingly strange thing of deleting and then reuploading Aurora's songs??? so I don't wanna deal with the messy files :/)

With that out of the way here is my essay :)

Wordcount: 2,908

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Muriel and Lucio are both very, very caught up in how they are seen by others. While it's clearer when it comes to Lucio, it is also made clear in Muriel by the fact that Social anxiety is often caused by stress over how a person is perceived and their mental belief that they are helpless to change that perception. This causes of their self perception are also quite similar, due to their similar histories, but in the same way that there are some notable opposites between them with their struggle for their identity there is also some notable differences in their histories that arguably causes the slight difference in their struggle for their self image.

To begin with their history, Muriel and Lucio are noted to both come from the South. They come from two opposing tribes, and are both eventually chased out of their home and community by 1) a cruel person who arguably causes their struggle of identity and 2) the plague. Of course, the major difference here is that Lucio actively made decisions that would lead to him being chased out of his tribe, he was arguably aware that if it failed he'd have to leave, he just hadn't considered that it would actually fail.

Muriel on the other hand is chased out of his home at a much younger age, and he has no choice in his eviction from his home or his family. There is no action that Muriel could have done that would have allowed him to stay where he was, unlike Lucio who had a clear option that would have allowed him to stay.

Or at least would have allowed him to stay until he grew tired of his mother's attitude towards him.

I don't believe that Morga's cruel and dismissive attitude towards Lucio started when he tried to kill her, rather, I believe that she has been doing that for a long, long time. She often states that she had been "too soft" on Lucio, but I think her "softness" is the same kind we see in Muriel's route. She berates him, she threatens him, she tells him how awful and unskilled he is to everyone else and makes a show of his failures, but when she is completely and fully enraged and is about to hit Lucio, she hesitates.

Is that softness? To her perhaps. To the tribe, perhaps. But not to me, and not to Lucio.

So, despite all of the harsh words thrown his way, he decides to take action to prove her wrong. I'm willing to bet that a lot of Morga's criticisms were about how strong he was and how he was in fact not actually as strong as he could have been, not as strong as he should have been. That's why when he takes action to prove Morga wrong, he immediately snaps to killing her. There is, after all, no better way than showing your power than killing your opponent (we see this belief in Morga when she spars against Muriel and he beats her.) Of course, in hand-to-hand combat, and on fair terms, Lucio can't actually defeat his mother, so he takes to more under-handed methods in order to beat her.

When this fails, it is the first major wound on his self-image. He cannot defeat his mother. He is not strong enough to defeat his mother despite cheating.

So, he runs away.

Besides marking a wound on his self-image, this also marks Lucio's connection to others. Having been exiled from his tribe, he is disconnected from the friends who may have actually supported him somewhat, he is robbed of his connections and separated from anyone who may have actually loved and cared for him (platonically and/or romantically)

Similarly, Muriel's separation from his own family, and his eventual abandonment into the streets of Vesuvia separates him from any stable sense of love and affection as well. Because he was separated from loving parents as a child and was likely surrounded by a number of children who were abandoned because they were unwanted, or because their parents were unable to care for them, Muriel has no other answer than what the other kids give him it is the only answer he has. Further more I believe that Muriel was probably abandoned by that merchant because they were unable to keep feeding him, which he also attaches onto his real parents as to why he was abandoned in the first place.

And so Muriel believes himself to be unloved and unlovable after being separated from family, or any semblance of a family.

Returning to Lucio, he moves on from his tribe and eventually joins a military group(? I think? Idk. I'm sure there was a specific name for it but I can't remember sorry) Once again, this is an act of trying to prove to his mother and to his community that they were wrong, and when compared to the ordinary person outside of their tribe, he's actually a really good and capable fighter. Of course, however, this is inevitably cut short as he looses his arm, and is once again confronted with the fact that he is unskilled as a warrior and so he retreats from his perceived deficiency and takes a different route to getting the love and admiration he wants—politics.

Of course, as we see in Muriel and Asra's childhood tale, this inevitably puts him into direct conflict as, in order to climb the social ladder he offers to "clean up" the streets. While it's largely left up to interpretation as to whether or not the Threat of Asra's safety came first or Muriel's position as a gladiator came first, I can't help but believe that Muriel's position as a gladiator came first, as otherwise, he might've gone out and tried to check on Asra's safety. (though this is mostly a headcannon) I believe that Lucio offered Muriel a chance to have some say in who gets "cleaned up" from the streets, and for Muriel to be able to get rid of the "actually bad criminals". Regardless of whether or not this is true, the arena gives Muriel his first taste of admiration, as people cheer for and adore him, but it also tears that sense of admiration away as he eventually has to come to terms with what he is doing. Whether that sense of dread and awareness was always there or it occurred somewhere in the middle is also unknown but the outcome is the same regardless. Being known and being admired becomes tied to hurting and harming people—because it is the only trait he sees that other people admire, he sees it as his only lovable trait.

And so Lucio and Muriel begin to reflect each other—and I don't mean reflect as in they show the same image, I mean reflect as in we see a similar image, but the image is reversed (*wink wink nudge nudge*). Here Muriel sees himself as only capable of being loved for his ability to commit violence, and Lucio sees himself as being incapable of being loved because he cannot complete the amount of violence he needs to commit.

Now, I feel the need to emphasize here, despite having many people around him who Lucio may truly believe love and admire him, the people around him very likely don't actually care for him very much because they either do not know him well, or they see him as little more than a pawn in a plan, or at least someone who gives them benefits. And even if there are a number of people with genuine admiration for Lucio, it still wouldn't be enough. Admiration is never enough when you lack genuine emotional connections with others, and Lucio, clearly does.

Again, this parallels Muriel who also struggles with a lack of genuine emotional connections to others. Although he has Asra with him, it's clear that, Asra's tendency to be fickle with connections has extended to him as well, especially when Asra spends more time with MC than him, leaving Muriel feeling abandoned and alone. Considering that Asra is the only person we ever really see Muriel connect or talk to, it's no stretch to say that Asra is one of Muriel's only friends, if not their only friend period, and so with Asra disappearing on him as often as they do, Muriel is left feeling that he actually has no connections at all.

Of course once again reflecting each other, where Muriel clearly sees he lacks connections and pretends he does not, Lucio, makes unsteady transactional rather than emotional relationships and pretends that that is enough.

It is of course, not enough, because if it were, he wouldn't have treated Muriel like that, he likely wouldn't have plucked Muriel out at all. Although this is largely speculation, I believe that Lucio treated Muriel the way he did because he feels as if Muriel is the very child Morga would have wanted. He is big and strong, and although not technically skilled if Muriel were raised by Morga like Lucio was, he might've been. This is why his first reaction to seeing Muriel and Morga working together is that Muriel is Morga's replacement son. It's because that's how Lucio had been treating him. Muriel is Lucio's little avatar to live out the glory of being a fantastically skilled fighter who can beat up all of his opponents. This is also, why I believe that Lucio purposefully trained Muriel to be less skilled in fighting than he was. In Muriel's route, Lucio comments that he's always been able to beat Muriel, and while I do in fact believe that Lucio is actually a skilled fighter, despite how he is often presented and despite my arguments above—he's most often a skilled fighter in the technical sense. He knows all the movements, he knows all the strategies, he knows all the underhanded tricks. By not fighting Muriel too often, and refusing to teach him these tricks however much it may be able to help Muriel out in the arena, it allows Lucio to be able to defeat him whenever he wants to. It allows Lucio to make it seem to himself that he is better than the person his mother would have wanted as a son, which I believe to be both horrible but also sad, for both Lucio and Muriel.

With Lucio, it shows how desperate and inferior he feels with his fighting skills, constantly trying to compensate for it something we can also see that in the portrait of himself he has in his room.

For Muriel, it keeps him scared, and keeps him pinned in place despite having realized the consequences of his fighting. Something which only furthers his self-hatred when he realizes he actually could have easily left.

So yes, Muriel and Lucio are both very self conscious people, and while for Muriel his self consciousness stems from people seeing him as a monster, and him believing that he is one although he does not want to be one, Lucio is self-conscious in the fact that he is not seen as the brutal fighting warrior he was supposed to be.

These reflected aspects of each other, alongside of their self consciousness is the very thing they struggle through in their routes, the very thing that MC helps them to get through.

Lucio believes that through various paintings of himself that rearranges his past (paintings of himself as a triumphant fighter, while his mother is demure and elegant), various unfair/practically staged fights, and celebrations of himself on top of it all, he would be able to convince people that he is awesome and amazing and that he deserves to be loved. In doing all of this however, Lucio runs away from confronting the beliefs at his core and wondering if perhaps, what he understood as traits that make a person great may be incorrect—that his mother had not just been incorrect on the fact that he was a failure, but on the fact of what makes a person successful or powerful. By constantly covering up what he sees as deficits, Lucio skims over his own internal struggles entirely which makes him look foolish and annoying as he ignores what's so clearly there for others.

Meanwhile, for Muriel, he is aware of his deficits, and is unable to properly hide them without disappearing completely himself, he tries to figure out and fix all of his problems through introspection and isolation, but it is not something he can do on his own. Muriel of course, can't accept the fact that he may need help. He can't accept the fact that despite what he believes of himself, other people may actually care for him the same way he cares for them, and will actually offer help. And so, as he runs away from people and community, from friends, and possible friends alike, Muriel runs away from his own problems as well, even if he tortures himself with confronting them (I can't remember if he actually does this or if this is a fanfic trope 😅) Essentially, by constantly trying to deal with his struggles on his own, he neglects his connections to others who may help him, or at least offer support.

And then MC comes along, and because they both desperately needed that deep connection to someone else, regardless of whether it is something platonic or romantic. MC is able to leverage their relationship in order to further propel Muriel and Lucio's development into acknowledging the thing they refuse to acknowledge, and finally balance out their coping mechanisms, which, on their own isn't actually unhealthy (Lucio's really good at connecting with others; Muriel knows how to confront his inner turmoil) using that single method as their crutch for their traumas only ever hurts them more.

As Muriel progresses through his route, he grows more connected with his community and people. One meaningful moment that I don't think they give enough screen time in the game is the moment that Muriel is forced to confront people recognizing and seeing him again. He's forced to confront everyone's perception of him, their memory of him and he retreats into the mirror maze where he stares at all these reflections of himself, all reversed images of himself, but he believes them all to accurately represent himself—as if his superficial physical image is what represents himself mentally and emotionally. And then MC (and Morga 🙄) come through to him and pull him out of that panic attack (or interrupt and yank him away from properly addressing the problem in Morga's case 😤) And that's the first step to being loved. As they say, in order to let yourself be loved you have to let yourself be known, and in that first step, choosing to step forward and prioritize the lives of others over his own self image, Muriel begins to be admired by others. Genuinely admired, for traits that he likes in himself rather than traits that he hates.

Similarly for Lucio, (although I haven't played his route so this is largely based on hearsay) he's faced with problems that he Has to face on his own (or at least somewhat on his own) the main one being that he has to confront the consequences of his own actions, he has to acknowledge to himself that he isn't perfect and that he can't be perfect. It's why at the end of his route on the upright ending, he leaves Vesuvia, to take on a life of (semi)solitude to further take some time to improve his ability at introspection, while in the Reversed ending he's still talking with people, still trying to manipulate their perceptions of him (and the MC), and still trying to be a "good boy" (ie. perfect) for the MC.

Now, it may be argued that Julian can/should be included in this struggle of how others perceive him but I raise you this; that guy is the most dramatic ass dude in town and his biggest dramatic act was telling everyone about how horrible he is. He clearly has no issues with how other people see him, but he has problems with how he sees himself, which again, reflects Muriel a bit, but I'm sure most people are familiar with their (more blatant) similarities by now lol

So yea.

Muriel and Lucio are reflections of each other. At their core, they both struggle with the same problem of caring way too much about how they're seen by others, but they cope with (and thus worsen) the problem in opposite ways, so when they take steps to heal themself, they also go in opposite directions, with Lucio needing to take some time to himself to get into his own head, while Muriel needs some time away from himself to get out of his own head.

Essentially they're heading in opposite directions to reach the same conclusion: other people's opinions don't matter as much as your own opinion of yourself and the opinions of the people close to you.

Interesting parallels, no?

Of course, I believe this could've been better illustrated if Nyx Hydra didn't rush the last three routes, but alas, this is what fan fiction and fan-analysis is for lol

Anyways I don't tend to poke around the Lucio side of the fandom too much to begin with so if this has all been said and argued before forgive me for the repetition, and If I've gotten some points wrong, please feel free to correct me! I've mentioned before I haven't really played through Lucio's route so some things may be wrong.

[scorbleeo]

TV Series Discussion: Sex Education

Season 4 (2023)

Source: Google Images

Insecure Otis has all the answers when it comes to sex advice, thanks to his therapist mother. So rebel Maeve proposes a school sex-therapy clinic.

Source: Netflix (2019)

Absolutely Brilliant

I'll be honest here, I started watching this season with expectations of disappointment only because I knew the one couple I was rooting for was not endgame. That being said, I had no idea what I was going to get from Sex Education's final season.

In this last season, we got some really good stories which ultimately led to great character growth. Some were simply briefly touched on, like Jean's postnatal depression, Jackson finding out the truth behind his sperm donor, Ruby finally figuring out her true identity (kind of), and Viv's experience with an abusive man.

Whereas some took practically the entire show (not just this season) to get an ending. Like Aimee finally being able to recover from her assault, or Cal's struggle to become who they truly were. We also had Otis realising what issues he had and how deep they were rooted. This season also showed us Maeve and exactly how thick the wall she built around herself truly was.

Some of these stories, I particularly enjoyed watching the characters learn and grow from them. Some, really annoyed me. For example, I was never in love with the idea of Maeve and Otis being endgame. As time went on, I just preferred them as friends instead of a couple. As friends, they brought out the good in each other. As a couple, it always felt like Maeve's just holding onto Otis's leash. And I hated how Otis forsaked anybody and everybody once Maeve was around. If you'd watched this season, you could see how bad of a friend, a son and a campaign party he was once Maeve was back in his life. I still don't like the idea of them being a couple but seeing how deep-rooted their individual issues were, it made sense why I always thought them together romantically was problematic but I am not opposed to them coming back together in the far future. Probably why Sex Education's finale struck a chord in my heart, one I did not expect to be struck. Way to go, ambiguous endings.

Now, Adam has been one of my favourite people in this show since he showed his vulnerable side which automatically meant Michael's not exactly likeable. Michael was a toxic father and husband, nobody can object to that. And when Adam told Michael off and finally articulated his unhappiness with his father, I was so proud of my dear boy. However, it's the part where Michael said he doesn't hate Adam, he hates himself. That part made me so happy because not only was Michael fully acknowledging he was a bad parent and husband, he also finally gave Adam clarity. My boy has struggled too much and although I hate that he is no longer with Eric, I am absolutely elated Adam's in such a better place both physically and mentally.

Which brings me to my favourite character growth in this season. Eric freaking Effiong. I never thought this person needed more development, then this season came and I was utterly proven wrong. However, it's his story that warmed my heart. I don't think enough people talk about what Eric was going through in season 4. It's something everybody knows, regardless of which side we're on. Yet, we never talk about it or in some cases, act on it. The dilemma, the identity crisis, the forlornness that people like Eric suffer from... It opened my eyes bigger, I was aware before, I am just even more aware now.

Sex Education actually got better as the seasons went on. And season 4 was an excellent finale to it. I know it's not a show for everyone but I think it should be.

Before I say farewell to Sex Education once and for all, I went back to read my reviews for seasons 2 and 3. And wow, my thoughts each season really go back and forth. (Sarcastically) I love the fact that none of my wishes for season 4 happened, at all.

Rating: ★★★★☆

P.S.: I did not realise how much I liked the secondary school teachers until they had that small appearance.

More on Sex Education here: Season 2 | Season 3

[yaoifan20forgoodgirl28]

Hare on Maternity Leave, Chapter One -Giving birth to new lives.

This is a story on the Monster Rancher anime version of Hare after he gives birth to Tiger's and his kits, going on his maternity leave for about 6 months×*. ×*-Actually in the story Hare took a yearly maternity leave instead of a six-month/half a year kind of maternity leave.

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Hare on Maternity Leave. Chapter One:Giving Birth to new lives. My own personal fanfic/story disclaimer: To absolutely truly clarify all lawful things that I definitely do not have any,ei, nada, nage, née, nein, nem, no, non, none, nul, nula, zero, zip or zilch legal say in whatsoever at all,I definitely do not own the Monster Rancher anime series or as they definitely quite do rightfully belong to Koei, Tecmo and Toei for all legal rights & purposes but at least thankfully enough on the more amiable side I definitely do own Tiger and Hare's newly born kits plus a good number of OCs of mine as well. Author's Notes:The point of views being swapped around is going to be exceptionally useful, since I don't want to limit the story by only showing one character's perspective and this is also of my skills as a writer I think. Also Hare is a yearly maternity leave as opposed to just a six-month/half a year kind of maternity leave despite what the note up above says, that is definitely my bad or lame exuse on that. •|| ||•-Genki's point of view/view point, ÷÷ ÷÷-Golem's point of view/view point, ¥¥ ¥¥-Mocchi's point of view /view point, ## ##-OC 1's point of view, ••••-OC 2's point of view/view point,{}-Tiger of the wind's point of view/view point, ()-Hare's point of view/view point,

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££££////Brief Timeskip, it is precisely about four weeks later on Earth , while in Panagea it's been about ten months since Moo was defeated....However peace doesn't always last a long time especially when you have ambitious villains who want to rise in power in a way that is more efficient and more quickly achieved than they can do by focusing on the little things like stealing money from hardworking people or other innocent creatures....///££££

•|| Panagea, Early Evening, Monster Rancher world, in a village near where Tiger of wind and Hare's house is located, Genki's point of view||•Ahh, Panagea boy was I ever glad to be back in this world.

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(Monster Rancher world, Tiger of the wind and Hare's house, early morning,Hare's point of view) Maternity leave , what a concept. As my very handsome blue-furred two-horned wolflike mate slept quite soundly, I carefully got myself out of Tiger and mine's extra big king-sized bed taking the blankets off me and then I started to attempt walk when in truth I was really waddling quite noticeably as I slowly headed over to the kitchen my extremely large bulging belly feeling more cumbersome than ever before but to tell the absolute truth I fully loved my unborn kitten/kits' constant kicking me so hard about 98% of the time-it was really only when I had to go the bathroom to crap or piss and I had to look at bills that I got a little bit annoyed with my unborn kitten/kits' constant kicking but even then I still felt a very, very,very deep strong maternal love inside of me so I couldn't stay at my unborn kittens/kits for too long;besides truth be told I couldn't really punish the unborn kits I was still carrying for communicating with me their mother either besides that they haven't even been born yet!! That would definitely be quite stupid and childish of me . Plus I felt my kits should only be punished once they're born and they would be enough to able understand the concept of a punishment otherwise it defeated the whole purpose of doing or giving a punishment anyway. "Boy, this puts

[babyloposts]

New BakuBaby

(Ughhh I love this anime. Any excuse to use my baby Kotaro I’m gonna take)

Dilf!Bakugou x poc!fem!reader

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You and Katsuki knew better than to let lil mama get comfortable, but that’s exactly what you did. 5 years of blissful marriage with your little girl (that wasn’t so little anymore) and you felt that now was a good time to start over and have another. Katsuki wasn’t opposed to the idea he was more worried about how your daughter would react. She had already gone 13 years being an only child and she was spoiled rotten. Neither of you had any idea how she would react.

But one late night, coming home 2 bottles of wine deep after a date, the protests of your teenager were the last of yours and Katsuki’s worries. Plus you just so conveniently stopped taking your birth control about a month ago, so the timing was perfect.

Katsuki must have had some Olympic swimmers even after all these years because it only took one try before you were missing your period and waking up with morning sickness. Your husband was surprised, nervous, excited, and ecstatic all rolled into one. He forgot what it was like to have a new born and he was so happy that he would be experiencing all the highs and lows of pregnancy with the love of his life.

You waited well after your first trimester to announce your pregnancy to people and the first on the list was the most nerve-wracking, your daughter. You and Katsuki sat her down on the couch together and presented her with a small Polaroid. It took her all of a second to realize what was going on.

“We’ll it took you long enough.” She chuckled. Katsuki’s nose and brows scrunched at his baby girl’s reaction. He was expecting a full blown meltdown but it seemed she was being mature? “It would have been nice for us to not have such a big age gap, I mean 13 years? I’m practically gonna raise the baby myself.” Well nice to know one thing hasn’t changed. She still had no type of filter.

“You’re happy, then?” You asked hope practically radiating from your skin.

“Yeah, of course I am! I pretty much figured it out a month ago, though.”

“Wha- you did?” Katsuki questioned.

“Duh. All the signs were there. Morning sickness, the glow, plus Mom’s boobs have gotten bigger.”

Yep, no filter.

All your friends and family were super excited and supportive about you being pregnant and your pregnancy wasn’t that bad. At least, your first trimester wasn’t that bad. You didn’t start getting big until you were six months in and that’s when pregnancy, with all of its cravings, aches and mood swings, hit you with full force.

Katsuki, of course was super protective over you. Basically waiting on you hand and foot throughout your third trimester. He’d give you massages on your back and swollen feet, hold your baby bump up for you, run your baths, make late night trips to the store and whatever fast food you were craving (even if he would act like it was a burden to him, he wanted to go out for you). He was perfect, albeit a little over protective, especially when his friends came to visit you.

“Stop crowding her, and leave my kid alone! They’re kicking cuz they want your hands off of his home.”

“Y/N, is he always like this?” Mina giggled.

“Yeah even with his mother. He’s such a helicopter parent, and husband.” You laughed rubbing your bump with care.

“No I am not!”

Katsuki was so cute. He was just happy to be experiencing everything with you since he wasn’t around the first time. Even with Hero work you and his family came first, always.

The day finally came to push that big headed baby out of your cooch and you don’t know who was more annoying in the delivery room. Katsuki who was freaking the fuck out the entire time, his mother who was yelling at him to calm down because he was getting you worked up, or your daughter who was giving you a full play by play of what the doctor was seeing down there as you pushed. If it weren’t for your own mother being there, holding your hand, to keep you sane you might have kicked them all out and birthed the baby alone.

Once your daughter announced that the head was coming out Katsuki went into dutiful husband mode holding your other hand and telling you to keep breathing. A few insults were hurled at Katsuki for putting you in this pain, but he knew you didn’t mean it and it would all be worth it in the end.

And finally your son was in your arms and the mixture of your cries with his were filling the room.

Soon you settled into your new life of sleepless nights and living only to serve your little parasite precious baby. Katsuki somewhat knew what he was doing. He got full custody of your daughter when she was four months so he knew the basic needs that was required for a new born. He just couldn’t comprehend how cute and tiny he was.

No amount of cuteness can make up for all the screaming this baby did, however. Katsuki wasn’t used to fussy babies. When your daughter was small she would have her tantrums and meltdowns, but it seemed your son just cried for no reason. He wouldn’t want to feed, he had a clean diaper, and if Katsuki rocked him he wouldn’t go to sleep. The only thing that would calm him down was his mommy. And his sister surprisingly.

“How come he shuts up when you hold him.” Katsuki would pout after handing the baby off to you to cuddle in bed.

“Because he’s a mommy’s boy. Plus I’m prettier than you.”

“This is my woman son. You can’t have her.” Katsuki would pinch the little chub on your son’s cheek, causing him to stop feeding to look up at him with the stankest face he could muster.

“Aww look Katsu~ Baby’s first mean mug.”

A/N: I am so in love with this blended family head cannon. I think I’ll make another part showing the dynamic between the kids because something about older girls having younger sibling that they treat like their own baby. Ughhh it’s too cute I can’t 😩 anyways I hope you enjoyed this continuation (also I should probably name the kids… I’ll think abt it. Suggestions welcome :))

Original Post

[pagesoflauren]

Wooden Façade (2/4)

feat. lumberjack!Ari Levinson and Andy Barber

Premise: Andy Barber is an acting district attorney in Boston, but was raised in the western Massachusetts town of Barber with his parents who run a lumber business, and his younger brother, Ari. Estranged from his family, he decides to help by hiring you as a personal nurse and caretaker of his aging mother. However, Ari, stubborn and prideful, doesn’t take your employment kindly.

Warnings: angst; mention/discussion of neurodegenerative diseases (specifically Parkinson’s disease; including falls, medications, hallucinations, and memory loss); a car accident that resulted in paralysis; a non-abusive slap (done while under the impression that there was a need for self-defense); familial arguments (between brothers); swearing; Ari is a hot, stubborn, sexy lumberjack (yes, he’s a warning)

A/N: Here we go! Super requested; thank you all for reading this so far. And thanks @eightcevanscentral ✌🏽

Masterlist

Wooden Façade Masterlist

You sat across from Marcella with Ari on your right. Andy sat across from him and next to his mother.

This mealtime gave you more insight into Marcella’s current state of cognition. While she was aware of her older son being here and thrilled to have him next to her, she seemed to ignore the palpable tension between the two men. Most of her attention was on him unless she needed assistance with something from you–a refill on her water, another serving of vegetables, whatever she needed.

Their plates are empty, as opposed to yours and Ari’s, still containing bits of food here and there. You could easily see his irritation bleed into his movements, especially as he pierced two pieces of broccoli with his fork and bit them off aggressively. His jaw set between bites as he watched his mother gush over his brother.

You didn’t dare to say anything, though. Staying quiet and eating slowly as if to make yourself invisible, you simply observed. Whatever issues were arising with Andy’s arrival seemed strictly familial and you weren’t hired to get involved that way. You were hired to take care of Marcella.

“It’s so nice that you’re home, Andy,” she sighs, a clingy hand resting on his forearm. “It’s been so hard here without you and Ari always working.”

“Well, I got really lucky that work wasn’t so heavy this weekend, so I just packed and took off the minute I was free.”

“Oh,” she gushes, seemingly overwhelmed with her emotions. “And this nurse that you’ve hired for me,” she begins, gesturing to you.

You sit up when you’re mentioned, smiling when they both cut you a look.

“I know, I know, it’s only been a day–”

“Not even a day,” Ari mutters.

“--but she’s so spectacular. So kind and attentive!”

“You’ve never said half as much about me.”

Swallowing, you steal a glance at him, registering the dejected look on his face as he gathers another morsel onto his fork to eat.

“And now Ari and I have a third person to play Uno with on Sundays! We miss having you here to play,” she finishes sadly.

“I’m glad she’s a good fit, Ma,” Andy smiles, placing his hand over hers, pointedly ignoring her remark about missing him on Sundays. Then, he looks at you, “How are you settling in?”

“It’s gone well, it’s nice and cozy here. They gave me your old bedroom, but if you’re staying the night–”

“Don’t even think about it,” he waves you off. “I’ll take the couch.”

“Oh!” Marcella exclaims, drawing all eyes to her, “You boys could share a bed! You used to do that all the time!” She looks at you, “Oh, it was the cutest thing, I wish I had photos of it!”

You smile politely and acknowledge her with a half-hearted coo, but it’s hard to act when the two men clearly feel uncomfortable at the prospect.

“Uh, yeah, Ma,” Andy shrugs. “We could do that.”

“So nice to have my boys back under the same roof again,” she sighs, pinching Andy’s cheek.

Ari sighs, clearly annoyed as he rolls his eyes. When you see the look on Andy’s face, your gut tells you to remove Marcella and yourself from the situation.

“Are you ready to go to bed?” you ask her just as Andy opens his mouth.

“Oh, yes,” she replies happily, “Nothing sounds better.”

She gives Andy a hug and a big kiss on the cheek when you stand and come around the table to help her up. Ari stands too, looking down at his mother as he bids her goodnight.

“Goodnight, son,” she says, snaking her arms around his waist and giving him a brief hug.

As you usher her through the living room to the base of the stairs, you briefly look back at the two men as they seem to avoid each other’s gazes. Silently, you hope their discussion doesn’t escalate into something big.

-—

Ari clears away plates and dumps them into the sink to wash. They clatter against each other and the silverware, creating a sharp sound that startles his brother.

“Are you trying to break them?” Andy quips as he brings over everyone’s empty water glasses.

Ari’s response is a head shake. He lifts the handle to open the faucet and grabs the sponge to begin washing the dishes.

Behind him, he can hear the sound of his brother popping his lips; it’s a habit he’s had for as long as Ari can remember. Whenever Andy felt frustrated, that telltale pop was a clear sign of it.

“You got somethin’ to say?” Ari asks, shutting off the water and scrubbing the plate down with a sudsy sponge.

“I think you might have something to say, actually, Ari.”

Running the water again, Ari rinses the bubbles off and places it in the drying rack. “What on Earth would give you that impression?”

“The ‘you gotta be shitting me’ when I walked in?” Andy plies to him in an accusatory tone. “The entire fucking dinner? That ring any bells?”

“Oh fuck off, Andy!” Ari shouts. “Where the hell do you get off hiring her to take care of our mother when you haven't been home since Ma’s last birthday? You didn't even come home for Christmas!”

“I’m trying to help our mother who has a serious medical condition with declining brain function, did you not read the doctor’s reports?! Her memory–”

“Yeah, I read them,” Ari interjects. “I was handed them because guess what? I was the one who picked Ma off the floor when she fell! Where the hell were you?!” He doesn’t even give him a chance to answer, “You were off being some big-headed lawyer in Boston. Our mother’s reports were just another email to you that you had to read over and you did the laziest fucking thing you could think of by hiring a nurse–”

Andy begins to speak over him, “I don’t know where you get the audacity to say shit like that to me. I’m trying to make sure she takes her medication–”

“--when the right thing to do is to come home and take care of your family!”

“--and doesn’t stay on the floor when she falls in the middle of the day!”

“Fuck you!” Ari slams his hand on the counter, setting his jaw in fury. “If you were here, maybe I would’ve gotten to her sooner. You left us!”

“Do you know why?!”

“Dad told me everything. You were a coward that couldn’t stand to be associated with him after the accident with Mrs. Harcourt!”

Andy shakes his head, a pained smile on his face as he crosses his arms. “See, that’s not it,” he counters. “That’s not even close to it.”

“Why the hell would I believe anything you tell me?”

Ari is wary of the way he approaches this situation. He was fifteen when Andy left, just days before his sixteenth birthday.

It wasn’t the only thing that happened to dampen the celebration of a milestone age.

Their father was involved in a front-page accident. When delivering an order, the rope securing the lumber to the truck bed came loose. The load fell into the street, causing the car behind the truck to flip over. The driver survived but lost her ability to walk.

Her family pressed charges against him; it was settled quickly and quietly. All Ari knew was that his dad started working a lot more after that, spending all waking hours at the lumber yard and office. It didn't matter what was happening. He took no holidays.

He didn't celebrate birthdays, either.

“Dad paid off the Harcourts. Every penny they asked for upfront,” Andy explains with a sigh. “It put the business in a really bad position. As I’m sure you know.”

Ari nods, biting the inside of his cheek. When his father died, the burden to pay off the debt became his own. He just finished settling it less than six months ago. It was a miracle.

Then, his mother fell.

“I told dad we should’ve gotten a lawyer,” Andy continues, drawing Ari out of his train of thought of the events from the past half year. “If we had some help, then maybe after some negotiating, the Harcourts would’ve settled for a lower amount, or a payment plan, just…anything that would’ve made it easier on us.

“And you know dad, he was stubborn as hell,” Andy cuts the seriousness with a chuckle, “It’s where we get it from. When I mentioned a lawyer, he said that would’ve been an unnecessary cost. Then I said I’d study and…that’s where things went south.”

“What do you mean?”

Sighing through his nose, Andy answers, “He told me I needed to stay and take over the business. I told him what good is running a business if I won’t know how to navigate situations like that. He started accusing me of thinking I was better than him, which I know I’m not.

“He told me I could get out if I was going to continue with that ‘lawyer nonsense,’” he shrugs, “So I left.”

Ari does his best to keep up with all the information Andy is telling him, but it’s hard to when everything he thought he understood about his family is turned on its head.

“Part of me wanted to come back,” Andy admits. “Ma wanted me to come back. But I have a life in Boston. Like it or not, that’s where my life is now,” he repeats himself to drive the point home to his brother. “And honestly, it’s fucking shitty to be back in a house that my father kicked me out of.”

Despite their separation, something in Ari tells him he knows what his brother’s thinking: he will leave as soon as he can in the morning.

“It was hard to be at dad’s funeral because…he died when I was fighting with him. I never got to fix it.”

Andy presses his thumb and forefinger into his eyes.

“I hired her because I had been calling the bank to check on the payments every once in a while. I wanted to make sure mom was okay, especially after she fell and I got the report about her having medication. Look,” he shrugs, gesturing around himself vaguely. “I know you can’t run that business and build a cabin and take care of mom. You’re not trained in nursing and memory care.”

Andy points upstairs, referring to where you are right now with their mother, “She graduated at the top of her class from Boston College. She knows what she’s doing and she mentioned how important it is for you to be involved, but not the only one caring for her.”

Setting his jaw, Ari soaks in everything he’s heard tonight, sighing when he understands everything his brother had to do on his own after leaving.

“I’m…I,” Ari struggles to finish his sentence.

Andy was right. The men in their family are historically stubborn and prideful.

“I–”

“I know,” Andy excuses him, sparing him the vulnerability of having to apologize.

“Are…are you good?” Ari asks, “Do you-do you need anything?”

“I’m good,” he promises.

“Good.”

They stand there silently, still uncomfortable but better than they were during dinner.

“By the way,” Andy begins, “We’re not sharing a bed like mom said, right?”

“Oh, absolutely not,” Ari shakes his head. “You’re taking the couch.”

Another quiet moment, then he speaks again, “I understand for whatever reasons you can’t just leave Boston. And…knowing what I know now, I wouldn’t ask you to, but…”

He can’t vocalize it; he can’t find the words.

How do you tell your brother you’ve needed him for the past sixteen years. Not out of true necessity, but out of longing for a relationship that had seemed to die so abruptly?

“I’ve missed you too, Ari,” Andy says quietly, placing his hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry I had to leave.”

“Me too.” The words barely escape his mouth, but Ari composes himself. “I just want my brother back.”

Andy squeezes once and sighs, knowing better than to make a promise he doesn’t know he can keep. He’s never addressed the way his banishment has affected him. It’s impossible for him to know if things could ever be the way they were before.

“We can try to get there,” he promises.

—

With east-facing windows, you wake up with sunlight shining through the curtains. It stings your eyes and you turn away, letting yourself recover, then you check your phone.

It’s just before seven and you have a few notifications that you sort through and reply to before throwing the covers off your upper half.

The January morning chill rushes to you, making your skin pimple as a small shiver runs down your spine. You get up and make your way to your dresser to pull out a thick knitted sweater.

You step out of your bedroom and into the hallway, hearing the bathroom door open as you shut the door behind you. When you turn, your eyes go wide at the sight of Ari exiting with nothing but a white towel wrapped around his waist, steam hanging in the air around him.

His shoulders are broad, nearly filling up the entire space of the hallway. Despite a lack of muscle tone, you can tell his body holds a certain strength, arms defined and wide pectorals making him look even larger. His chest is sprinkled with a generous amount of hair, only adding to the ruggedness he seems to have.

Everything from your shoulders up feels hot to the point where you feel like steam is coming out of your ears.

You snap out of it when he nods at you and bids you good morning.

“Morning,” you croak, then repeat it after you swallow and gather yourself, your voice coming out firmly the second time.

You make a conscious effort to keep your eyes glued to his to avoid ogling again, but it’s fruitless when he turns his back to you and heads back to his room, providing you with an unimpeded view of his back.

It feels like you could trace every line and ridge his muscles make, especially the ones at the center that frame his spine.

He shuts his bedroom door and you fully break out of your haze, shuffling to the bathroom to splash water in your face to help yourself wake up and remember yourself.

You’re here to be Marcella’s nurse, you lecture your reflection in the mirror, Not thirst after her hot, crabby son.

You grab the towel and dab your face dry before making your way to the kitchen. Peeking into the living room, you find Andy sitting on the couch scowling at his phone screen.

“You look like you don’t agree with mornings,” you tease as you retrieve a drinking glass from one of the cupboards overhead and turn to the fridge, placing it beneath the water dispenser.

“I agree with mornings that aren’t snowy,” you hear him reply as you watch the glass slowly fill up. “Did you sleep well?”

You nod, briefly looking at him over your shoulder before your eyes return to your task at hand so that the water doesn’t spill over, “I did. Your bed’s really comfortable.” Cringing inwardly at your comment, you shut off the water and try to change the subject, turning to face him. “Do you think Marcella is awake?”

“Probably,” he turns to glance up the stairs. “We can go see.”

He gets up from the couch and waits at the bottom of the stairs, gesturing for you to go first.

“How was it last night, putting her to bed?” he asks.

When you hear his tone, you understand that he’s also prying for additional information. He doesn’t just want to know whether or not his mother went to bed smoothly; he wants to know if you heard anything of his and Ari’s discussion last night and what you think of his mother’s current condition.

You decide to only comment on the latter, “She was very gracious. She seems very aware of her circumstances and made it a point to show me around her room like which clothes go where and her medications. She told me she’s been having trouble remembering to take them, so that’s one of my priorities with being her nurse. I put them on her nightstand and, hopefully, that’ll help her.”

“Thank you,” Andy sighs.

Reaching the top of the steps, you stand aside and tell him it may be better that he go in first.

He nods, opening the door and making sure it stays open for you to enter behind him.

“Andy!”

“Mornin’ Mama.”

“Oh you’ll have to help me up, I can’t do as much as I used to since I fell.”

He looks unsure, so you set the glass on her nightstand and she greets you with the same glee as she did her son.

“Are you warm, dear?”

“Oh yes,” you smile. “Especially during the night. All those blankets were so comforting to have. Um,” you turn back to Andy, “Why don’t you stand there and I’ll coach you on how to help her up.”

You give instructions slowly, providing advice on where to place his hands and how to hold her weight. After some clumsy trials and effort, with Marcella smiling the entire time and encouraging her eldest, Andy eventually got her from laying on her back to sitting up. He sits at the edge of the mattress and catches his breath.

“What’s going on?”

Turning back, you find Ari standing in the doorway, eyes taking in every individual in the room.

“Andy just helped me up!” Marcella answers, cutting through the tension with her cheerful lilt.

You perk up, spotting the orange bottles on her nightstand next to the glass of water. “Don’t forget to take your medication,” you remind her gently.

“Don’t talk to her that way,” Ari snaps, drawing everyone’s attention to him. “She’s not a damn child.”

“Ari!” Marcella chastises him, “Don’t you swear in my house! She’s doing her job, let her.”

You hold his gaze as you breathe in slowly and exhale through your nose. Deciding not to address the situation, you swallow and turn your eyes back to the medications. You pick them up and scan your eyes over the text to find the instructions on how to take them as the air hangs tensely in the room again.

Still ignoring Ari’s reprimand, you place one bottle down and open the other, shaking out one tablet. “Here, take this one,” you instruct. “And you’ll take the other one–”

“After breakfast,” Ari finishes for you. “She knows.”

You don’t miss the intention of his statement; he’s trying to remind you that he thinks you’re not needed. Your chest squeezes in embarrassment, but Marcella doesn’t let you feel that way for long. “Can you hand me my water, dear?”

As you reach for the glass and hand it to her, you hear Ari address his brother. “I thought you were leaving?”

“You really that eager to see me go?” Andy rebuttals. Then he sighs again, “I can’t. The snow,” he points to the window behind him with his thumb.

You look that way too; there’s a light flurry falling, white particles swirling in the breeze.

“Once it clears, I’ll go.”

More tension in the air and it suffocates you.

“Shall I make breakfast?” you wonder, looking at your patient. Marcella nods eagerly with a smile, telling you she wants pancakes.

“Of course,” you return her smile.

Looking at the door, Ari blocks the whole opening, only stepping aside slightly to allow you to squeeze by.

—

You serve up enough breakfast for everyone, throwing in a variety of foods including pancakes, bacon, fruits, and potatoes.

Marcella sighs happily as she chews on a sugared apple that you cooked on the stove. “Ari never makes me fruit like this!”

“Well, I wanna make sure you eat healthy too,” you state. “That’s also really important for patients like you.”

She coos at you, placing a hand on her chest.

Ari looks gruff as usual, but Andy throws you a small smile and mouths thank you.

You nod and excuse yourself from the table to get Marcella’s second medication from her bedroom. As you return to the table, you make a mental note to keep this bottle down here since it needs to be taken with food.

“Okay, second one of the day,” you say, pouring one pill out onto the cap.

“You can give it to Ari,” she says, “He cuts this one in half for me.”

“He does?” you ask, trying to hide your shock as you look at him.

“That a problem?” He doesn’t even look at you as he picks up more potatoes with his fork.

You set your jaw as you take in his arrogant tone. “Yes because you can’t cut these in half, it needs to be taken whole or she won’t be getting the proper dosage.”

“People cut their medications in half all the time,” he dismisses you. “What’s so different about this one?”

You sigh sharply, asking if you can talk to him privately. Without waiting for an answer, you leave the dining area and go into the hallway.

His steps are heavy as he follows and he looms over you when he stands in front of you.

You tell him the medication’s name and ask, “Do you know what it’s for?”

“It’s for Parkinson’s,” he answers bluntly.

You go on a long tangent about the importance and purpose of the medication, explaining what you know about brain function and how Parkinson’s impacts it.

“What’s your point?” he cuts you off in the middle of your monologue.

You sigh to summon your patience, closing your eyes and going over it again, this time using the most basic vocabulary you can in order to help him understand.

When you finish, you can’t discern his thoughts from his stoic facial expression.

“Look, if you could just stop and lay down your pride for five minutes and understand that I’m here to help your mother, I would really appreciate that. Then maybe you can understand why it’s important for you to listen to others because believe it or not, you’re not the only one in the world who cares about Marcella.”

“You were hired to take care of her. You don’t actually–”

“Don’t assume so much about me,” you cut him off. “Yes, I was hired but that means I need to do my job. That includes telling you stuff like this to make sure she gets the treatment that she needs.”

Ari doesn’t reply, he only clenches his jaw.

“Don’t cut pills without consulting me or a pharmacist in the future,” you declare firmly.

You push past him, making him stand with his back to the wall and watch you leave in surprise.

Pressing his hand into his face, he exhales quickly and closes his eyes tightly.

Idiot, he reprimands himself. Idiot, idiot, idiot.

He remembers the first day she was handed the prescription. She was scared.

His mom, his mother; but he calls her "mama". He could play back nearly every moment he said it, memories flashing in his mind all the way back to the very first one.

Times when he laughed so hard he could barely say it. When he needed help and she knelt down to look at him and promised it'd be okay. When he came home late from the lumber yard and found her there next to the dining table.

To Ari, she’s strong, unyielding, fierce.

All that and more is true, he thinks, with the addition of one more.

Sick.

Sick beyond repair.

Taking medicines not to cure, but to delay, as he understood it.

He was scared about the medication, too. It suddenly became real. She fell because of issues with her muscles and so many things in her brain that the doctor tried to explain but Ari couldn’t keep up with. It was so hard to process it all. When the doctor asked if he had any questions, Ari shook his head.

How could he ask anything when he didn’t know what he doesn’t know?

It was the same thing at the pharmacy when he picked them up, fluorescent lights hurting his stinging eyes as he held back tears.

They sat at the dining table that night for fifteen minutes, the first of those levo-whatever tablets sitting on a napkin, waiting to be taken.

Ari stared at it, not knowing what it would do but praying for it to help.

His mother stared at it knowing she needed to take it but still afraid to.

He cut it in half to appease her, to give her a break so that maybe it would be less scary.

It was.

He did it every time she took it, which wasn’t every day, but all the nights and mornings when either one of them remembered the medications were there.

Scrubbing his hand down his face, he gathers himself, willing the memory away and remembering he has to be at the lumber yard in fifteen minutes.

He returns to the dining table, keeping his expression blank as he picks up his fork.

“Were you able to take the whole thing, Ma?” he asks, looking at her and avoiding your gaze.

“Yes,” she nods. “She rubbed my back through the whole thing.”

Ari nods once and he finishes the last of his breakfast. He doesn’t look at you when he gets up and says he’s heading out; he barely looks at his brother as he says goodbye to him.

He hugs his mom tightly.

—---

Three Weeks Later

Andy checked in more often than previously, much to Marcella’s joy. His calls didn’t come on at much of a consistent pattern, but she didn’t care. It just mattered that he called.

Ari slowly began to relinquish more of his caregiving duties to you, though he still hovered when he could.

You didn’t blame him; if either of your parents had the same fate, you’d become a helicopter yourself.

In some ways, it was good. It came in handy today.

Your hands shake as you sit by the window seat, watching more snow fall and leaning on the chilly glass pane to ground yourself.

“Who the hell are you?” Marcella had shouted when you returned from the bathroom.

Understanding what was happening, you slowly raised your hands to show her you meant no harm.

“Marcella, you know me,” you told her, keeping your voice even. “Remember? Your son, Andy–”

“Andy isn’t here!”

“He hired me, I came here three weeks ago. That was the last time you saw him.”

“Liar!”

“I’m not lying,” you said, cautiously stepping forward. “We can call him, he’ll tell you–”

She swung her hand back and it suddenly collided with your face, making you stumble back. You pressed your hand to your cheek, feeling your skin heat up underneath your fingers.

Then, the front door slammed as Ari entered the house.

“What’s going on?”

Marcella gasped. “Albert,” she sighed in relief, “Albie, help me!”

“Mama, what–”

“Ari, just come here and help–”

“Don’t you dare talk to him!” she shouted, coming toward you for another hit but Ari stepped between the two of you, barricading her from advancing any further.

You used that to make your escape, quickly moving down the hall to your room and shutting the door behind you.

You had heard Ari bringing his mother upstairs minutes earlier, feeling relieved that maybe he had calmed her down enough to get her settled.

—

Ari heard you sneak down the hallway behind him.

“Albie, I’m so scared,” his mother gasps a sob, bringing her hands to cover my mouth. “Who was that woman?”

“She’s here to help you, Mama,” Ari reminds her gently. “Remember–?”

“I don’t understand,” she cries, stepping forward and hiding her face in his chest. “I’m so confused, Albie, what’s happening?”

Unable to answer that question, Ari slowly brings his arms around her, rubbing his palms up and down her back in an attempt to soothe her.

He stands there and lets her sob, shake and shudder against him and he breathes in deeply, pushing away his own tears and summoning all his strength to prevent his knees from buckling.

There’s a certain indescribable grief that he feels. That strange feeling that a person you knew so well isn’t the same anymore.

He felt something similar the moment his father told him that Andy had left.

Except this isn’t accompanied by any spite or betrayal. It was the worst kind of grief.

The one that comes unaccompanied. That consumes him and leaves him with no direction, no way home because what kind of home is this cabin if his mama isn’t there?

“I think you need to rest, Mama,” he suggests quietly. “Maybe a nap will help you feel better.”

“Oh, yes,” she agrees with a snuffle, “Such a great idea, Albie.”

His chest squeezes with a strange feeling of being called by his father’s name. Choosing not to dwell on it, though, he asks his mother to let go to allow him to shed his heavy coat that he wore to protect him from the cold while he was outside.

He ushers her upstairs and under the covers, tucking her in tightly and gently reassuring her along the way.

“Albie, will you stay here with me?”

“I’ll stay here till you sleep, Mama.”

She looks relieved and comforted, settling in and maneuvering her hand out from under the covers and slotting it into Ari’s.

She’s asleep in a few minutes and Ari squeezes her hand, quickly wiping away a tear that just escapes the corner of his eye. Closing his eyes and swallowing, he gathers himself before setting her hand on the mattress gently and quietly exiting the room.

—

Closing your eyes, you felt your stomach grumble; with your emotions subsiding, you could finally think about food.

Your door clicks quietly as you open it, poking your head out and hoping your ears can pick up what’s happening upstairs. You’re met with silence, so you decide to step out cautiously, keeping your movements slow to avoid any loud noises.

First you go into the bathroom to give yourself a once over in the mirror, spotting a clotted cut on your cheek. You’re nearly shocked; you hadn’t even realized you were bleeding.

Squatting down, you open the cabinet under the sink to look for any first aid equipment.

“Hey,” a voice above you startles you, making you jump while you were rifling through the various objects.

“Sorry,” Ari apologizes. “What are you looking for?”

“First aid kit,” you answer, placing an unopened tube of toothpaste back where it belongs.

“Why do you need that?”

You look up at him, turning your head enough to clearly show him the cut on your cheek.

His face shows clear surprise, forehead wrinkling as his eyebrows shoot up and his blue eyes widen.

“Did Ma do that?”

“Yeah, I think it was her ring,” you shrug, standing up.

He wordlessly walks back up the hallway and you shut the door before following him into the kitchen.

Your eyes wander over his tall frame as he opens a standalone cabinet, gulping as you gawk at his shoulders again and–

“Here,” he says, pulling out a white metal box with a red Swiss cross on it. He sets it on the table before washing his hands in the sink as you sit at the chair closest to you, open the latch and begin to file through the supplies.

As a nurse, you were impressed with how well-stocked the kit was.

“Here, I got ya,” Ari sits across from you, turning the kit to face him and pulling out a jar of antibiotic ointment. He opens the jar then takes out a Q-tip wrapped in plastic. Tearing the packaging open, he dips it into the jar and reaches over to apply the ointment over your cut.

When your eyes close from the initial sting of the medication, you don’t have time to be in awe of the fact that his arm can stretch across the table without him needing to lean forward.

“Sorry,” he mutters.

“Don’t worry about it,” you dismiss him, wrinkling your nose and watching him put the Q-tip back into the wrapping and close the jar. He puts it back in the kit and takes out a box of steri-strips.

As he applies two of them over your cut, he muses to you, “You gotta admit, she’s got a mean backhand.”

“Oh, believe me,” you smile, “there was no doubt in my mind about that.” When he pulls his hand away, you touch the ends of the strips to make sure they adhere well to your skin. “She must really be a force to be reckoned with when she’s mad.”

His reaction surprises you; it’s the first time he’s ever smiled in front of you. “Shit, she was terrifying. The amount of times my ass was sore from her spankings…”

He stops himself at your horrified face, but his smile escalates to a laugh that bewilders you further.

“It wasn’t so bad; I definitely deserved it. I wasn’t the easiest kid.”

“You aren’t the easiest man, either,” you remark.

He looks reluctant to agree, but nods regardless. “Yeah, I’ve been a bit of a…uh…”

“A lumberjack-ass?” you finish for him, wrinkling your nose again.

It feels strange to share a laugh with him, but you can’t ignore the fluttery feeling in your stomach from seeing him smile.

After a few seconds, his face turns thoughtful.

“I dunno if you caught it,” he begins, eyes looking downward before they look at you. “But she called me by my dad’s name…why?”

You pause, trying to find your words and select them carefully. From the look on his face, you can tell he’s overwhelmed, so you decide to give a more simplistic explanation: “Sometimes with Parkinson’s, because it’s a disease that affects your brain, it changes your perception of things.

“She forgot who I am and sought out ways to defend herself which she clearly did,” you gesture to your cheek. “But, as humans, we also seek out security. If your father was someone who made her feel secure, I’m willing to bet that association has transferred to you. She just got the names mixed up.”

“So it’s not just ‘cause she misses dad?”

“That might be part of it, too. But I think it’s more about how you make her feel.”

He nods like he understands, but you can see in his face that he’s processing more than just the information you’ve laid out for him.

Then, you wonder if he’s ever had time to process anything about his mother’s condition.

“Has anything like this ever happened before, Ari?”

He presses his lips together and runs a hand through his hair. Mid-motion, his head rotates slightly to look in the direction of the window, casting sunlight against the glaze of tears coating his eyes. He sniffs once, then lays his hands on the table.

You don’t know what exactly his answer is, but you know either way, it makes him worry more.

Yes would mean each occurrence would only add more weight to the emotional load he already bears.

No would mean her condition may be progressing faster than he could keep up; to him, it might mean he’s failing as a son.

Regardless, you know he needs help.

You’re unsure how he’ll receive it, but you slowly slide your hands over to his, timidly wrapping your fingers around his and squeezing reassuringly.

His eyes drift up to meet yours, then back down to your joined hands.

He doesn’t pull away.

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[bitsandbobsofwriting]

The Hell he’s been through;

The Knights have no clue of the suffering Merlin has endured… until one day, they do.

TW: Scars, panic attacks, nightmares, PTSD except they don’t have a word for that, non-graphic description of scars/injuries

Part 2(final part)

It was the height of summer, the bright blue sky was utterly free of clouds and the noon sun beat viciously down onto the training field.

Only the central six knights, their King, and Merlin braved the exhausting heat, the other knights had chosen to train later in the day, when it was cooler, so the field was empty of anyone else. Merlin was sat cross-legged in the shade of a tree, jacket and neckerchief removed (not that Arth- anyone noticed. Definitely not.), though his sleeves were still pulled low over his wrists and his tunic was fastened high up his neck. Despite that, the lack of an extra layer definitely displayed Merlin’s surprisingly broad shoulders more than normal (another thing that Ar-no one noticed). 

The knights were shirtless, despite Merlin’s warning of sunburn, sparring semi-playfully with wooden dummy swords, the type squires train with, and no armour.

Merlin rubs absent-mindedly at the dull, almost gone ache in his ribs, just below his armpit, as he rolls his shoulder. The injury, if it could even be called that, had never been serious and hadn’t even hurt that much when he’d gotten it on the last patrol (a stray mace swing from a bandit just clipped him), at least, not compared to other injuries he’s sustained over the years, but it was an annoyance that made his shoulder stiff on occasion.

Unfortunately, the movement caught Arthur’s eye, and the King frowns, stopping his observation of Elyan and Mordred’s spar to lay a crudely hidden concerned gaze upon his manservant. 

He’d fussed endlessly when he found that Merlin had bandaged his own torso after the fight, demanding that he let someone help next time; Merlin just rolled his eyes at that. The other knights had wisely chosen not to comment, knowing that the attack, and Merlin’s subsequent injury, had already put Arthur in a bad enough mood; though admittedly, the only thing stopping Gwaine from ruthlessly taking the piss out of Arthur’s mother-hen tendencies all the way home was Percival harshly clamping a hand over his mouth and pushing him away.

Merlin looks up to see Arthur staring at him, and the King quickly covers his concern with a look of annoyance when the manservant raises an eyebrow:

“If you’re not going to do anything useful Merlin, get up here, you clearly can’t be trusted to even cower effectively, so you’re going to have to learn to defend yourself.”

Merlin’s eyebrow just rises higher as the rest of the knights’ attention is drawn to the conversation. Lancelot and Mordred hide knowing smiles, well aware than Merlin was more than capable of defending himself, if he really needed to. Gwaine went to open his mouth with teasing grin, though quickly pouts when Percival punches him on the shoulder, and Leon and Elyan smirk at each other before moving their amused gazes to Arthur.

When Merlin doesn’t move, just stares at him disbelievingly, Arthur rolls his eyes and gestures at the half-empty rack of wooden swords:

“Come on, Merlin, up on your feet, grab a sword.”

Merlin just snorts in amusement and shakes his head, settling back against the tree trunk even more:

“Absolutely not. I can handle myself just fine, thank you very much.”

The knights (bar Lancelot and Mordred of course) raise their own eyebrows. Gwaine snorts out loud, stepping up next to Arthur and dropping an overly-friendly hand on his shoulder, much to The King’s displeasure:

“I know you can hold your own in a tavern brawl Merls, but that’s not the same thing as facing bandits and assassins and shit. Princess is right, it might be worth it for you to at least know how to use a sword.”

Arthur turns an accusing gaze on Gwaine, shrugging his hand off as he says:

“And I presume all the tavern brawls Merlin has apparently been getting into are your fault?”

Gwaine grimaces slightly before shrugging with a smirk, and Merlin hides his laughter with a cough before inserting:

“Entirely his fault. Gwaine starts the fights, promptly passes out, and I have to finish them.”

Arthur laughs incredulously; Mordred has to hide the angry clench of his jaw and Lancelot has to hide his sorrow when Arthur replies in a taunting tone:

“I’m meant to believe that you are regularly winning Gwaine’s unfinished fights, am I?”

Merlin shrugs in mock defeat, a grin on his face:

“Believe what you want, Sire, I’ve faced worse than you lot and come out singing, I don’t need training.”

Arthur resists the urge to smirk at the appealing way Merlin manages to make his title sound insulting, and he instead raises his eyebrows:

“You’re not getting out of this, Merlin. I can’t have you bruising yourself every time we leave the city.”

Merlin takes in a deep breath, settling a disconcertingly assessing gaze on The King for a few moments before he sighs and stands up, walking towards the equipment and picking up a sword before turning back to Arthur:

“I suppose you’re right, I doubt any of the other servants would be willing to put up with you if I got too injured. Who would you like me to spar, My Lord?”

Arthur scoffs and shakes his head as the others step back, looking upon the whole scene with fond amusement, bar, once again, Lancelot and Mordred, who are looking an odd mix between concerned and proud. They know that Merlin is capable of more than he lets on, even with a wooden blade.

“You can’t spar with any of us, Merlin, that would be far too dangerous. We’ll start with some basic moves, and then maybe we can move on to a slow, choreographed spar.”

Merlin twirls the sword expertly in his hand, and he’s vaguely away of Gwaine nodding approvingly and Leon raising an eyebrow out the corner of his eye, though he pays them no mind, raising an eyebrow of his own at Arthur:

“Surely starting with a simple spar will tell you my exact skill levels so you can tailor the lessons? You need to know how crap I am before we start.”

Lancelot hides a snort behind a hand, knowing full well that Merlin is just trying to goad Arthur into letting the servant show off his skills without too much effort beforehand. Or without giving Arthur the satisfaction of thinking that he was the one who taught Merlin how to fight. Thankfully, Arthur takes Lance’s snort as a teasing one aimed at Merlin, as opposed to what it really is, so waves him into the ring with a smirk.

Merlin just rolls his eyes, moving to stand opposite his best friend and muttering, just loud enough for everyone to hear:

“Fine, but I’m not taking my shirt off, I’m not as arrogant as you lot.”

Lancelot widens his eyes as Arthur freezes, dread growing in his stomach at the knowledge that The King would take that as a challenge. Arthur turns slowly, a shit-eating grin on his face, and Lancelot grimaces as Arthur claps his hands together:

“Right! I wasn’t going to mention it, but you do have a point, Merlin, if you are to train, you must train as one of us. Come on, tunic off.”

Elyan, Percival, and Gwaine just laugh, but Leon rolls his eyes exasperatedly, and Mordred and Lancelot frown in concern. Neither of them have seen Merlin’s scars in their entirety before, but knowing about the servant’s secret second life had definitely made them more observant than the others, and they had seen hints of old injuries here and there. That’s not even mentioning the times he’s shown up in their chambers, bloody and bruised and in need of treatment, but not wanting to worry Gaius.

Merlin just flushed and stared at him indignantly and Arthur’s teasing grin grew:

“Don’t be shy, Merlin, I’m sure whatever horrific mole or ugly birth mark you’re ashamed of isn’t that bad.”

Merlin rolls his eyes, stepping away from Arthur when he moves towards him. The demand to de-robe, even partially, had immediately put him on edge, and he had gone from playfully annoyed to genuinely irate in a split second. He crosses his arms over his chest protectively when Arthur gestures at him demandingly:

“I don’t have a weird mole, Arthur, you Clotpole, but unlike you lot, I’m not all that keen to show off my old scars.”

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say. Merlin was hoping that mentioning his scars in passing would appeal to the knights’ warrior sides, would make them sympathetic to his… shy-ness. It did not. It just made them laugh, even Leon, and they all began to point out various scars they had on their chests and back, remarking that he couldn’t have worse than them. 

Gwaine twisted to the side, patting a pink, jagged circle halfway down his back, a grin on his face:

“This beauty is from when I propositioned a lovely fella who was, apparently, already taken. Man’s wife smashed her bottle on the counter and damn near took my eye out with it.”

Elyan cackles at Gwaine’s story, pointing to a perfectly square burn on his shoulder-blade:

“Yeah, well at least you didn’t fall back into a red hot brand at the ripe old age of fifteen because a girl smiled at you.”

Merlin’s back-up plan, which was sneakily sulking off whilst the knights compared their most embarrassing scars, was cut short basically immediately when he heard Arthur yell out:

“Absolutely not, Merlin, I’ve already told you that you’re not getting out of this. Tunic off, spar Lancelot.”

Merlin huffs, annoyed, feeling rather like he was backed into a corner, and Mordred walks forward, to be between him and The King, quietly saying:

“You don’t have to Merlin, just fight with it on.”

Arthur narrows his eyes in suspicion, but before he can say anything, Merlin squares his shoulders and looks at him defiantly, dropping his sword to the floor as he begins unlacing his tunic, his words coming out harshly, his tone dark:

“No, no it’s fine. The King wants to see my scars, and we all know that The King gets whatever he wants.”

The smiles melt rather quickly off the knights’ faces as Merlin speaks, and Arthur flinches slightly at his tone, starting to realise with just a little guilt that maybe this wasn’t funny anymore. He opens his mouth to take it back, to tell Merlin that he was only teasing and he could keep the tunic on if he really wanted to, but before any words come out, Merlin is gripping the collar of his shirt, pulling it over his head swiftly and screwing it up before tossing it to the side, not once breaking his stare on the now pale King.

Arthur lets out a sharp breath at the patchwork of scars that cover Merlin’s chest, and he’s vaguely aware of the various low cries and gasps of outrage coming from the knights behind him. There are so many, some are large and some are small, some look to be from clumsiness, but others look like they should have been fatal. Arthur’s eyes can’t focus on just one, he’s barely taking in each scar before his gaze is drawn to another, and then another, and then another; it’s a little overwhelming, and it’s only when he starts to feel a little woozy that he remembers to breath.

When he finally comes to the conclusion that his brain isn’t going to able to process this for a while, he looks up to Merlin’s face, instead taking in his resolute expression and hard eyes:

“Merlin, what… what happened to you?”

Merlin raises a slow, mocking eyebrow before breaking his statue-like stillness and picking his sword up again, turning to face a distraught looking Lancelot. This movement only reveals the second mosaic of scars covering his back, but he speaks over the next round of gasps and muffled curses, his tone still unbearably dark as he gestures Lance to get into position:

“I told you, I’ve faced worse than you lot and come out singing.”

The knights are so distracted by the myriad of scars covering Merlin’s torso that it takes the servant’s first harsh, well-aimed blow with his sword to break them out of their stupor. They watch the ensuing spar with morbid fascination, finding that not only can Merlin hold his own, he’s winning. Lancelot loses his breath and rhythm much quicker than Merlin does, and the fast-paced spar only lasts around three minutes before Merlin lands a strong punch to the centre of Lance’s chest and the knight stumbles back in shock, lowering his sword just enough for Merlin to step forward and trip him up.

The scarred servant’s chest rises and falls deeply, but not too rapidly as he lowers his sword and offers a hand down to the beaten knight. Lancelot takes it with a slightly shocked smile, patting Merlin on the shoulder as he stands. Merlin flinches away from the touch, no one misses it, clearly not too fond of people touching his bare skin, and Lance drops his hand rapidly, frowning only briefly before he smiles again:

“Bloody hell, Merlin. I knew you were good, but not that good.”

Merlin gives him a strained smile, grateful for the distraction. Everyone sees the moment Merlin’s mask goes up again; he gives Lance a smug grin and twirls his sword once again as he shrugs mockingly:

“I’ve been watching you lot train for ten years, and I’ve been in a few sword fights in my time. I picked up a few things.”

Arthur finally reacts, scoffing as he shakes his head in disbelief, scars momentarily forgotten:

“There’s no way that you can- that was a fluke.-”

He looks smug as he says it, like he’s figured out some great secret, and Mordred lets out a low, annoyed growl; no one notices thankfully, but Merlin shoots him a quick frustrated line across their mental link:

“Please try not to antagonise him any further.”

Mordred looks to him, keeping his face blank as he nods almost imperceptibly. Lancelot and Gwaine look openly disapproving of Arthur’s assertion, but Leon, Percival, and Elyan look almost convinced. Arthur nods decisively, picking up his sword once again and waving it in Merlin’s direction:

“-My turn. And once I’ve beaten you, you’re going to tell us about all of… that.”

Merlin’s eye twitches, but he doesn’t say anything, just nods slightly as he holds a placating hand out in Lancelot’s direction when it becomes obvious that his best friend is going to start trying to defend him.

Arthur takes Lancelot’s place in the ring and Merlin grips his sword tightly, his shoulders tense and his face showing only mild annoyance, despite the anger that Lancelot and Mordred were sure was simmering under his façade. At Arthur’s nod, Leon reluctantly counts them in, and the match begins.

This one is somehow even more fast-paced, though no one is surprised. The last ten minutes had caught Arthur extremely off-guard. An off-guard Arthur is a grumpy Arthur, and a grumpy Arthur is, unfortunately, still the type to take his frustrations out on others. Arthur wasn’t good at dealing with his emotions, meaning the disturbing mix of horror, guilt, and anger at Merlin’s scars, slight… shock, (because he refuses to call it anything else) at his deceptively strong physique, and surprise that apparently his servant can take out one of his best knights without all that much effort, all together have The King bursting with adrenaline. 

He throws blow after blow, but Merlin’s defence is incredibly strong, and Arthur has yet to land a hit anywhere other than the opposing sword. After a couple of minutes, Merlin switches styles, and Arthur almost trips when he realises his servant has, in the space of a second, gone from fighting like Arthur, to fighting like Leon. The knights notice it as well; Gwaine lets out a low whistle and Elyan smacks Leon on the shoulder, pointing incredulously at a sequence of complicated footwork that usually only the First Knight can manage so gracefully. Apparently Merlin can do it too.

Arthur adapts to this quickly; Leon was his sparring partner most often, meaning that he was accustomed to switching between their styles, and they were the most similar fighters in all the group. 

Another minute passes, and the pair still don’t slow, seemingly unbothered by their dumbfounded audience and the sweltering heat, and this time Merlin suddenly starts fighting more like Gwaine. Instead of staying on the defensive and trying to trip Arthur up, he goes on the attack, landing heavier and heavier hits as The King barely manages to defend himself in time.

Merlin is quickly growing tired, his stamina not nearly as good as Arthur’s, but The King grows complacent, even with the vicious pace, certain that he just has to wait Merlin out. He was wrong. Arthur finally gets an attack of his own in but Merlin dives to the side instead of blocking it, rolling and coming up to Arthur’s left before the blonde has time to regain his balance and turn around. He freezes in place when Merlin touches his wooden sword to the side of Arthur’s neck. He can feel it shaking, but it’s undoubtedly a killing blow, and when Merlin drops the sword to the floor in favour of bending over, one hand on his knee and the other on his side again as he pants, Arthur turns around faster than he thinks he’s ever moved before:

“How the fuck did you do that?”

Merlin is vaguely aware of the knights all clapping and shouting encouragement at him, but he doesn’t look up, just waves dismissively in Arthur’s direction:

“I told you, I’ve been watching you lot train for years. It’s easy to imitate you after a little practice.”

Arthur just stares at him in disbelief, but Leon hands the servant a water-skin, ripping his gaze from the whip marks on his back with clenched teeth before schooling his tone and face into something more friendly:

“Merlin, you switched styles twice in as many minutes… you beat the best swordsman in the Kingdom after already being tired from another spar, that’s… that’s incredible.”

Merlin drinks the entire skin as Leon speaks, looking up with another playful mask on his face:

“Well believe me, I’m so sore I don’t think I’ll ever be able to do it again.”

Merlin’s smile drops when he realises everyone is back to staring at him, more specifically, his scars. He steps away from the curly-haired knight, who furrows his brows in concern and resists the urge to reach a comforting hand out to him. Merlin crosses his arms over his chest defensively, hunching his broad shoulders slightly as he frowns at the floor.

Lancelot quickly throws his tunic to him, and Merlin scrambles to pull it on as quickly as possible, but before he can even get his arms through the right holes, Arthur snatches it away, a stern, angry look on his face. Though every one of then can see the badly hidden concern as well:

“No, you agreed to tell us.”

Merlin makes a move for his tunic, but Arthur jumps out of his reach. The servant huffs, annoyed and close to tears all of a sudden as he petulantly replies:

“Actually, you said once you beat me, I had to tell you. I won.”

Arthur raises an eyebrow, taking another step back:

“I’m happy to go another round if you are, Merlin?”

Merlin glares at him angrily for another few moments before completely sagging, staring at the floor with sad, tired eyes as his arms drop to dangle at his sides. Arthur and the knights are completely taken aback at Merlin’s sudden change of disposition, though it heartbreakingly strikes them as less of a change and more of a... reveal. A reveal of some kind of sadness that’s been there all along. How did they not notice this??

Arthur’s breath hitches and his tight clutch on Merlin’s tunic loosens slightly as he all but whispers:

“Merlin... who did this to you?”

Merlin finally looks up at him, letting out a humourless chuckle as he rakes a hand through his sweat-dampened hair roughly:

“Does it matter? Most of them are dead, I-”

His eyes narrow and his voice lowers. The knights hear it nonetheless:

“... I made sure of that .”

Arthur lets out a huff of frustration, not bothering to hide the desperation in his eyes as he pleads:

“Please, Merlin, you’re my... subject, you’re meant to be under my protection. And don’t lie, none of these are more than eleven or twelve years old at most and you got here ten years ago, so they happened in Camelot, under my watch. Please, Merlin.”

Merlin sighs, walking towards the tree’s shade once again. For a moment Arthur panics, thinking he’d pushed Merlin too far as he turned away, knowing that if this conversation wasn’t had now, their relationship would never be the same. But before The King can say anything, the servant slumps back into place against the tree trunk, sitting cross-legged again and biting his lip as he looks at Arthur expectantly.

Before anyone else can move, Mordred and Lancelot take the places either side of Merlin, sitting protectively close. Lance gives Mordred a pointed look, to which the younger knight nods before settling a blank expression on the side of Merlin’s head. Merlin doesn’t look back at him, but pats the knight’s knee as the corner of his mouth turns up briefly in a barely-there smile.

Arthur narrows his eyes, but stores that odd exchange in the back of his mind to deal with at a later date before sitting across from Merlin; the other knights look to each other, worried, before settling in the empty spaces to complete the circle. The group is silent for a while, all staring at a statue-still Merlin who in turn is staring at the grass in front of him; he doesn’t move even when Lancelot brings his hand into his lap, stroking his thumb over the servant’s knuckles absent-mindedly.

It’s Percival that finally breaks the silence, asking in a quiet voice:

“What happened, Merlin?”

Merlin looks up suddenly, as if he had forgotten he had company, taking in a deep breath and tightening his grip on Lance’s hand. He gulps before once again running his free hand through his hair, shrugging slightly as he mutters:

“I don’t recall all of them in perfect detail, just ask about... whatever catches your eye I guess, and we’ll see what I can remember.”

The knights all nod, looking to each other expectantly, no one really wanting to go first. Eventually Leon clears his throat, his voice gentle:

“Why don’t we start with the whip marks on your back?”

Merlin nods, grateful that they were at least starting off with the non-magical injuries. He doesn’t make eye contact with anyone as he speaks, his voice croaky and quiet:

“The newer ones are from Cenred, from a few years ago. He wanted information and I spat at his feet and told him to fuck off. He... he didn’t take too kindly to that.”

Gwaine lets out a quiet curse, and Arthur sits up straight, saying in a crackingly authoritative voice:

“Merlin, if anyone ever tries to extract information from you again, you give them anything. Everything. We’ll deal with the fall-out afterwards, it is not your job to withstand torture.”

The other knights nod approvingly but Merlin just looks up at The King with a raised eyebrow:

“Like hell. I can put up with a remarkable amount, I’d never sell Camelot, or you, out. Never, Arthur.”

Arthur huffs and resolutely ignores the tears gathering in his eyes, but Elyan beats him to the mark:

“That’s not... you shouldn’t have to put up with anything Merlin, it’s not necessary. You just... keep yourself safe. We’ll worry about everything else.”

The other knights nod again, but Merlin scowls and tenses even further, even as Lancelot squeezes his hand comfortingly:

“I’ve been through literal hell, multiple times, in order to protect my home and the people that are important to me. I’m not going to stop that just because it makes you lot uncomfortable, and you have no right to tell me to it’s not my place.”

Everyone looks desperate to argue, but they can’t deny that, after what they’ve seen today, in the last half a candle-mark only, Merlin is evidently a lot stronger than they’ve ever given him credit for. Both physically and mentally. Leon just gives Merlin a small smile and nods; he’s the only one here who has known Merlin just as long as Arthur, and he may not be as close to the younger man as The King or Lance or Gwaine or Mordred, but he’s seen his loyalty in action several times over the years:

“You said the newer ones were from Cenred. You’ve been flogged more than once?”

Merlin nods at the knight, grateful for his understanding and change of subject, even if said change of subject was back to his scars. His expression turns slightly guilty as his gaze moves to Arthur, and The King has a feeling he’s going to feel incredibly terrible at whatever it is Merlin is about to say:

“The others are from... uh.... Uther.-”

Arthur takes in a sharp breath as the tears he had just about managed to get under control gather again. The other knights just look angry, bar Leon, who, though miserable, looks as though he sort of expected it:

“-He didn’t like me very much.”

Arthur whispers his response:

“When? Merlin, when and why did my father have you flogged, and how did I not know about it?”

Merlin tenses his jaw, going from guilty to angry in a split second, snapping his response:

“Why do you think?!-”

Arthur recoils and Merlin closes his eyes briefly as he takes a deep breath, looking back to Arthur with a blank mask and speaking in a monotone voice:

“What did you think he would do every time I took the blame for you missing a meeting or a meal or a training session because you were entertaining a woman or pissing about with your knights? I had to walk into the council room and apologise for your absence because I slept in or I forgot to tell you or I sent you on a hunt on the wrong day. Uther was in the habit of burning people and chopping off an alarming number of heads, did you really think I would get away with it punishment free??

Arthur goes pale as a sheet and his hands tremble with the understanding. He shakes his head slightly as he looks to his lap, ignoring the tears on his cheeks as he murmurs:

“Merlin I am so sorry, I didn’t... I didn’t think... if I had known I would have duelled him in the damn town square to protect you.-”

Arthur looks up sharply, wiping his face clean as he settles an assessing gaze on his servant, ignoring Gwaine’s murderous glare as he slowly continues:

“-... which is exactly why you never told me, isn’t it?”

Merlin shrugs, a small smile on his face:

“You may never admit it, Arthur, but you were protective of me, even then.”

Arthur flushes slightly, before frowning again and shaking his head:

“You should have told me, it’s my job to protect you.”

Merlin raises an eyebrow, smirking slightly:

“I think we’ve already had this conversation.”

Arthur huffs and narrows his eyes again, good-naturedly this time, and Merlin just rolls his eyes before seeming to sag again, speaking quietly:

“Come on, next one.”

Elyan raises his hand slightly before pointing to the centre of Merlin’s chest:

“How the hell did you get a burn like that?”

Merlin tenses, rubbing a hand over the roughly circular, pink and white scar in the centre of his chest. The flesh looked melted in places, white scar tissue spider-webbing out from his sternum, beginning to fade just before it stretched around his sides, and stopping a few inches above his naval:

“Witch threw a fireball at me. Hurt like hell, but there was quite a lot of adrenaline at the time so I didn’t really notice the pain until later.”

Gwaine raises an eyebrow, evidently trying to control his anger as he asks, in a shaking, though forceful, voice:

“And what were you doing fighting a witch powerful enough to throw fire around?”

Merlin stops rubbing at the scar when Lancelot tugs his hand and Mordred mutters “You’re going to hurt yourself, Merlin.” in his head, curling his hand tightly in his lap instead and speaking slowly, as if he were choosing each word individually:

“Only Leon and Arthur were in Camelot for that. Arthur was dying from the Questing Beast bite, I... went to the Isle of the Blessed to speak to the followers of the Old Religion. There was said to be someone there who had power over life and death and I... Arthur was dying, I had to try.-”

Arthur’s eyes widened at Merlin’s words, mostly the mention of such a power, but stays silent, nodding at him to continue:

“-But the Old Religion requires balance, a life for a life,-”

Leon releases a deep breath, looking to the floor at the implication with his eyes closed, and Arthur lets out a whispered whimper, knowing the depths of Merlin’s loyalty:

“-I offered my own in exchange for Arthur’s. She, Nimueh, that is, accepted,-”

Arthur opens his mouth to say something, he’s not sure what, but before he can yell about Merlin’s self preservation, he notices the darkness on his dearest friend’s face and his voice catches in his throat. Merlin stares at the floor, his face drawn and angry and his voice stormy and clipped:

“-but she tried to trick me. I didn’t appreciate that, we fought, she died. Her life for Arthur’s: the deal was done.”

An audible gasp goes up around the circle, and Percival, who is (other than Merlin and Mordred of course) the most well versed in Magic Info, responds breathlessly:

“Merlin... Nimueh is a High Priestess, The master over Life and Death, she’s very very powerful.”

Merlin looks up at the gentle giant sharply, his gaze unforgiving and his tone harsh:

“Yeah, and she’s also very very dead, because she pissed me off.”

Percival gulps and lowers his gaze, but Arthur seems to have missed everything the two of them just said as he stares blankly at his servant:

“You’d barely known me a year, and I’ll admit that I was an arse back then, and you tried to give your life for mine. Why?”

Merlin looks at him curiously, not responding for a few moments as his anger dies down and his pride grows:

“I had it on good authority that you would become a Great King one day. It only took a little squinting to see it, you were a good man, a man I was, and still am, prepared to sacrifice myself for. You were an arse, yes, you still sort of are, but I have faith in you, always have, always will.”

Lancelot and Mordred smile fondly at him as the other knights stare dumbfounded, but Arthur clenches his jaw, ignoring the shaking in his voice as he says:

“Well, I... I forbid it. You are officially forbidden from sacrificing yourself for me, legally.”

Gwaine perks up slightly:

“Out of curiosity, do we all get the same-”

Arthur interrupts him with a forceful, though slightly amused:

“Shut up, Gwaine. And no, you’re a knight, your entire job description is to jump head first into danger so I don’t have to. I have every faith that you’ll die for me one day.”

Everyone lets out quiet snorts at that, bar Gwaine of course, who looks jokingly affronted before he nods and shrugs, quietly muttering “Yeah, fair enough,-”, the rest of his sentence (”especially considering you’re in love with him but not any of us.”) goes unheard and unchallenged.

Merlin chooses not to respond to Arthur’s demand, but everyone knows that’s his way of not committing to anything, knowing full well that Merlin had never listened to Arthur’s orders before, and sure as shit wasn’t going to start now.

“Next one.”

Merlin’s face had fallen slightly, knowing he wasn’t going to get away with explaining only two sets of scars, and Gwaine asks next, his eyes being drawn to Merlin’s gesturing hand:

“The red bands around your wrists and neck. They look like burns, but not very deep ones. How did they scar if they weren’t deep?”

Merlin looks down at the scars on his wrists, resisting the urge to absent-mindedly claw at the one he knows sits low on his neck. They’re about two inches wide, pale pink and almost impossible to see in the dark but impossible not to see in the light of the noon sun, even sat in the shade. The edges were clean cut and perfectly straight, and Merlin winced slightly at the memory of his magic being contained in such a way.

He looks around the circle, speaking easily. Though it was painful, it was no where near the worst Merlin has ever had, and even if he couldn’t tell the full truth, it felt sort of nice not to have to hide these ones:

“Some sort of enchanted chains, they drained my energy, made me sick and tired, but the magic in the metal sort of... stung, I guess. I don’t really know. I’d been captured by Morgause (is Morgana not mentioned in this entire fic but still Good? Yes.) again and I suppose she didn’t want to take any chances.”

Everyone looks shocked at his casual admission, and Leon is the first to break the tense silence:

“When were you captured by Morgause?”

Before Merlin can respond, Arthur pipes up incredulously:

“Again. You said again. Merlin, how many times have you been kidnapped by Morgause without anyone realising? How many times have you been kidnapped in general?!”

Merlin winces slightly, speaking in a slightly defensive tone as he stares at Arthur as though the answer is obvious:

“Arthur... I’m The King’s personal manservant. I have the power to overrule the Steward and the Housekeeper if I wanted to; as far as servant’s go, I have the most authority, even more than some low level nobles, especially when it comes to running the citadel. I’m sort of... a big deal. I have access to pretty much any information I could want, even more than this lot-”

He gestures to the knights around the circle. Mordred and Lancelot look a little proud once again, Leon is staring at Arthur, shocked that The King didn’t know this, and everyone else stares at Merlin, only just realising that... Merlin was right. None of them have considered it before, but he practically runs the castle.

“-most of the time, and I’m the only one who knows every single state secret, simply from my proximity to you and your council and your paperwork. That is rather... desirable to people like Morgause, people who want to attack Camelot.”

Merlin purses his lips awkwardly as everyone stares at him blankly, but Gwaine is the first to break the silence:

“... and we’ve just been letting you walk around, unprotected.”

Merlin raises as eyebrow:

“I think we’ve already established I don’t need protection.”

Arthur huffs and throws his hands up awkwardly:

“Well you obviously do, if you’re getting kidnapped so often. When even was this?? You haven’t disappeared for a while, and we haven’t had any trouble from Morgause in months.”

Merlin’s face falls, and the knights are taken aback at the reappearance of the... cruel darkness in his expression:

“Believe me, I know. She... won’t be bothering us any longer, I wasn’t fond of her repeated attempts to kill me or you so I... took care of it.”

The knights go pale at Merlin’s casual admittance of killing yet another High Priestess of the Old Religion. He smirks into his lap briefly until Lance once again squeezes his hand, as if reminding him of the mask he should be wearing. Arthur stares at his servant and long time friend, struggling to reconcile the clumsy ideal he has in his head with this... hardened, tortured protector:

“How? Nimueh and Morgause... just... how??”

Merlin’s eyes slowly move up to meet Arthur’s gaze, and The King gulps at the assessing way the servant tilts his head:

“Playing the role of clumsy rural idiot can be a little demeaning sometimes, but it also means that people tend to underestimate me. They think I’m an easy target, and by the time they realise I’ve played them, it’s too late.”

Arthur recoils slightly, and Merlin once again changes dispositions, shrugging casually and smiling easily, his tone light:

“You can get away with a remarkable amount when people think you’re stupid.”

The circle lets out an in-sync breath. All of them knew that Merlin wasn’t stupid by any stretch of the imagination, but they didn’t realise just how smart he is. None of them would admit it, but Elyan, Leon, Percival, Arthur, and even Gwaine on some level, still subconsciously considered Merlin “just a servant” in the back of their minds. At least... they did. 

(Not that that old thought process made them think any less of him, they just didn’t think of him as complicated, as a warrior.)

Merlin takes a deep breath, knowing that his friends would never see him in the same way, but sort of hoping that that was a good thing, gesturing vaguely to the circle once again. Arthur asks the next question, touching his hand to the back of his own neck softly:

“There’s a cut on the back of your neck. It looks deep, like it was reopened over and over, what is it?”

Merlin grimaces slightly, wiping his free hand over his face in exhaustion as Lancelot squeezes his other hand, and Mordred pats his knee comfortingly:

“That one was a few years ago, courtesy of Morgause again. She put something called a Fomorrah in me-”

Percival gasped slightly, harshly whispering “Gods.” under his breath. Arthur spares him a quick glance, making a mental note to question how his knight seems to know so much about sorcery at a later date:

“-so she could try to make me kill Arthur; it sort of... controls you. Makes you only able to focus on whatever instruction you’re given when it’s first put in you. Gaius kept having to cut it out of me, it wouldn’t stop re-growing until we killed the rest of it’s body, and that was with Morgause somewhere out of the city.”

Arthur looked a little outraged, hiding the worry of “I now know that Merlin could kill me without any trouble at all so how the fuck am I alive?”. Apparently he doesn’t hide it well; Merlin gives him a comforting smile and shrugs his shoulders slightly:

“I fought the compulsion pretty well, kept coming up with increasingly complicated assassination plans instead of just... stabbing you in your sleep or something.”

Arthur goes to respond, but he’s interrupted by Leon loudly cursing, his eyes wide as he stares at Merlin with flushed cheeks:

“I just... gave you a crossbow!! You said you were going to kill Arthur and I thought you were joking and I let you walk out the armoury with a crossbow and a handful of bolts!!”

Merlin chuckles, a blush of his own rising as he responds, rubbing the back of his neck again:

“Yeah... I don’t really remember it, but Gaius and Gwen filled me in on what had happened. To be fair, it’s kind of flattering that you never considered that I was the assassin, despite the repeated attempts being made on Arthur’s life and the fact that I admitted it to your face.”

Leon stares at the floor with wide eyes, seemingly trying to process the fact that he had pointed a would be assassin in the right direction, muttering something along the lines of “oh my Gods oh my Gods oh my Gods” over and over until Elyan awkwardly patted him on the back, breaking him from his embarrassed horror.

Arthur clears his throat, staring at Merlin with an almost unreadable expression:

“I did wonder why the attempts just... stopped?”

Merlin understands the question in his tone and nods slightly before replying:

“Hmm. Gaius and Gwen figured out it was me, found a way to paralyse the thing in my neck until I managed to get back to Morgause’s little lair and kill the main body.”

Arthur nods distractedly. How many times had this happened? “This” being something entirely ridiculous and/or incredibly dangerous right under his nose.

Percival clears his throat and Merlin looks to the nervous man, nodding at him to ask whatever it was that was on his mind, despite his growing discomfort:

“There’s... on your back, it looks like a stab wound but... worse. The veins around it are black and it looks painful despite it’s obvious age and... well... it looks like a Serket Sting, but it... it can’t be, right?”

Merlin tenses, back to looking as exhausted and scared and as ready to bolt as he had at the beginning of the conversation. Lancelot squeezes his hand again, tightly this time, and Mordred takes his other to stop him from clenching it too harshly, murmuring:

“You don’t have to, Merlin, not this one.”

Arthur clenches his jaw at the knowledge that two of his knights had known about this. Had known the collage of agony on Merlin’s body, had known what he’d been through and done nothing. Hadn’t prevented it, hadn’t brought it to Arthur, hadn’t protected him. But equally, with how protective and loyal and secretive Merlin is, and how heartbroken the two of them had looked when Merlin first took his tunic off, they likely hadn’t known the full extent of damage.

Merlin just sighs and shakes his head, sensing the curious stares of the others before rising to his knees and turning around, running a shaking hand over the scar briefly before dropping his hand to his side again. The others stare, astounded. They’d only caught brief glimpses of it before, but now they could see it properly it was undoubtedly a Serket Sting. 

The deep puncture mark on his lower back had closed up, but the skin was still sunken in slightly, red and angry looking with hints of purple towards the middle. Percival was right: dark veins, as if permanently poisoned, stretched out from the centre of the wound, dipping below the waistband of his trousers and fading about halfway up his back. 

After a few moments, Merlin turns around again and sits back down, placing his still shaking hand back in Lance’s lap without prompting. Arthur’s one-word question is whispered and cracked, and no one judges him for the tears in his eyes; most of them have tears of their own gathering and falling at their friend’s pain:

“How?”

Merlin gulps, not looking up as he leans slightly into Mordred’s shoulder. The young knight presses back, knowing how fond the servant is of warm pressure, not minding the sticky sweatiness of their still uncovered torsos in the noon heat:

“Morgause again. She got annoyed with me always ruining her plans, getting in the way. Left me chained up in the middle of a nest of... in the middle of a nest.”

Leon takes a deep breath, rubbing his eyes harshly and sniffing before asking, his voice strong despite the slight waver:

“How did you survive that? I’ve... I’ve seen men get stung by serkets and it’s not... nice.”

Merlin breathes shakily, his mouth open slightly as he stares at the floor, memories flashing through his mind and the scar on his back twinging uncomfortably. Again, Percival was right, despite it’s age, it did still hurt. He takes one last deep breath, clenching his eyes shut tightly before looking up at the curly-haired knight, not quite making eye-contact:

“I uh... a lot of screaming, and the help of an... old friend. I was out of Camelot for a few days whilst I recovered, my friend didn’t fancy being executed for helping me, for just existing.”

Arthur furrows his brows but the others, bar Leon, nod in understanding, looking only slightly guilty and not looking to The King as he asks:

“What do you mean? If someone has found a way to cure a Serket sting then they most definitely wouldn’t be executed for it.”

Elyan snorts and Mordred and Lancelot frown at the floor as Merlin stares at Arthur with poorly concealed contempt:

“Arthur... the cure for a Serket sting has been around for centuries, it just involves very strong, very complicated magic. I didn’t fancy dying in absolute agony, and my friend didn’t fancy being executed for the act of saving my life so we stayed away from the city whilst he treated me.”

Arthur looks at his servant, dumbfounded and confused, and the knights stay silent in their awkwardness. Leon, a lifelong citizen of Camelot, is the only other person to look surprised at Merlin’s explanation, though he nods after a few moments, conceding that it... makes sense. Of course it does.

Mordred frowns when he notices Merlin’s knee begin to bounce up and down slightly, but it’s the way he gulps and tightens his grip on Lance’s hand that has the two knights begin to properly worry. They share a quick look, obviously agreeing on something, before Mordred takes Merlin’s other hand and settles a soft touch on his vibrating knee whilst Lancelot looks to Arthur:

“I think we’re done for the day. This has been... a lot.”

Merlin is getting paler by the second and Mordred can sense the man’s distress, shooting Lance a desperate look before subtly trying to shuffle closer to Merlin, who leans even further into his touch. Arthur doesn’t seem to notice, looking annoyed at Lancelot’s assertion and rolling his eyes before moving his gaze back to Merlin’s quivering form:

“No, Merlin’s suffered and I need to know why. There are mace wounds on both your shoulders, I remember one, but not the-”

Arthur is interrupted by a low whine from the back of Merlin’s throat as he thumps his head back against the tree, eyes still shut tightly. His words out come quietly and broken, as if it were a struggle to breathe, let alone speak:

“Can we please stop now?”

Mordred ignores Arthur, moving to kneel in front of the servant whilst Lancelot glares at The King. Arthur just huffs slightly, though he obviously completely underestimates the distress his friend is in, looking concerned, but not letting up:

“Merlin, we’ve barely gone through a third of them, we can’t stop-”

Lancelot lets out a low growl, letting go of Merlin’s hand and moving towards Arthur, glaring as he says:

“Arthur, we need to stop. Now.”

The young King looks taken aback, though the argument is stopped in his throat when Mordred’s quiet voice interrupts him:

“Merlin, you need to breathe.-”

He peers around the young knight as best he can, but Lance’s still vicious glare stops him from moving too close. Mordred brings one of Merlin’s hands up, pressing it against his chest and continuing his soft instructions:

“-Copy my breathing, alright? Can you tell me where you are right now, Merlin?”

The knights all stare on in horror at Merlin’s pale skin and ragged breathing, staying still in their places when Lancelot gestures at them firmly. It’s Merlin’s next word, cracked and whispered, that trigger another round of tears to gather in their eyes:

“C...cave.”

Mordred shakes his head slowly and Lancelot curses under his breath, kneeling back next to Mordred and retaking Merlin’s other hand, holding it between his own securely. Mordred’s soft voice floats in the wind, and if the knights weren’t so distracted by their friend’s pain, they would think it sounds almost magical:

“No, you’re safe, Merlin. Think, listen, feel. Can you try to tell me where you are again?

Merlin shakes his head roughly, his still-shut eyes not stopping the tears from squeezing out as he flinches, strikes of lightening-like agony shooting out from the scar on his lower back. Lance worries his lip between his teeth, rubbing one of his hands up and down Merlin’s shivering arm; a nod from Mordred has Lance speak, his words soft and low despite the waver in his voice:

“Merlin, you know where you are, and me and Mordred are right here with you. You need to open your eyes buddy, tell us where we are.”

Merlin’s breathing instantly seems to calm a little at Lancelot’s voice, and he cracks his bloodshot eyes open, immediately sighing when his blurry gaze lands on the canopy above him, whispering:

“Tree... sky... Camelot.”

The others can see Mordred let out a relieved sigh, and they force themselves to relax slightly. Merlin’s body sags again and Lance frowns, but the young servant’s stuttering words as he stares blankly up into the tree interrupt any reassurance he could have offered:

“Please, I can’t... I don’t... please don’t make me-”

Lance stills his hand on Merlin’s shoulder, not even paying the slightest bit of attention to anyone else as he replies:

“No one’s going to make you, Merlin, we can carry on another day-”

Arthur’s interrupted “But-” is quickly shut down when Lance turns around to glare at him, a sharp “-I said we’re done for the day.” sent his way.

Merlin flinches again, the pain in his back getting worse and worse and making it harder to keep a grasp on reality, so damning the consequences, Mordred presses a hand to his forehead, closing his eyes and he mouths the words to a sleeping spell as quietly as he can. Thankfully, everyone’s attention is on the glaring contest between Lancelot and The King, so no one immediately notices the way Merlin falls forwards into Mordred’s arms, not until he nudges Lance in the leg and mutters:

“He passed out. We should get him to Gaius, he needs proper rest and pain medication.”

Lancelot nods his head firmly, back to ignoring Arthur and the others as he moves to Merlin’s side, pulling his arm over his shoulder as Mordred does the same on the servant’s other side. Mordred’s eyes scan over the knights, searching for whoever looks the most likely to help without question; his gaze stills on a terribly worried looking Gwaine:

“Gwaine, run ahead to warn Gaius, tell him that Merlin had a really bad episode and then passed out.”

Gwaine gulps but nods, gathering his tunic in quick hands and putting it on haphazardly as he sprints back to the castle. Mordred and Lancelot adjust their grips, standing and bringing Merlin up with them as they turn in the direction Gwaine had ran and begin the careful journey back to the citadel. The knights follow behind them closely, hastily dressing themselves and desperate to ask questions, but knowing that now was not the time. Elyan jogs ahead of them to open doors and clear a path, and Percival had grabbed Merlin, Lancelot, and Mordred’s tunics as Leon put all of the swords away before catching up.

Thankfully they don’t come across many people, though Lance and Mordred still do their best to conceal Merlin between them, knowing that he would be distraught if anyone else saw his scars. They make good time to Gaius’ chambers, and they find the Physician preparing a few strong pain potions and sleeping draughts as Gwaine paced.

Gaius looks incredibly worried, but unsurprised, and Lance and Mordred carry Merlin up to his room without prompting; the sick feeling in Arthur’s stomach tells him that they’re practiced at this. The King goes to follow them, but they kick the door shut behind them so they can have at least a little privacy whilst they settle their friend in his bed. They leave the covers off, knowing that he’d just overheat or kick them off in the nightmares that they know are coming. Lance nods knowingly at Mordred, and the younger of the two moves swiftly back into the main room, shutting the door behind him again softly, avoiding eye contact with anyone bar Gaius, even as Percival hands him his tunic.

The elderly Physician raises an eyebrow, and Mordred answers the wordless question quietly, though not quiet enough for the other knights to not hear him:

“Not yet, but soon, he’ll definitely need a sleeping draught to get him through it. It was his back, so he’ll need the strongest pain one you’ve got.”

Gaius nods, picking up two of the many concoctions he had prepared, not reacting to Arthur’s desperate questions, leaving the conversation to Mordred:

“What are you talking about? Get through what??”

Mordred sighs and frowns slightly, unable to get over all of his anger at the King for pushing Merlin so far:

“The nightmares. He always gets them, especially after an episode that bad.”

Arthur recoils, just a little horrified, but Gwaine beats him to the mark, asking in a shaking voice:

“Episode??”

Mordred moves his gaze to the worried knight, a little more sympathetic to the man he knew was more loyal to Merlin than he was to The King:

“Flashbacks, panic attacks. Merlin has been through... a lot. Chronic pain or difficult conversations sometimes trigger a sort of... breakdown, he struggles to differentiate between memories and reality. Normally he can just wait it out with a little help. When it’s really bad we put him to sleep, it’s the only way to stop him from hurting himself accidentally.”

Everyone looks horrified at that, their focus on Mordred rather than Gaius, who was stealthily ascending the steps to Merlin’s room, potions in hand. Arthur is the first to break the tense silence:

“How long? How long as he been getting these episodes, and why the hell did no one think to tell me?!”

Mordred moves his harsh gaze back to The angry King, glaring at him when his voice rose:

“With all due respect, My Lord, lower your voice. Merlin needs rest, he needs to not be disturbed.”

Arthur looks annoyed, though still heartbroken, but nods slightly, almost whispering as he responds:

“You didn’t answer my questions. How long, and why wasn’t I told?”

Mordred sighs, looking to the floor briefly as he crosses his arms over his chest . After a few moments of considering his answer, he finally looks up again, suddenly appearing exhausted and resigned as he replies softly:

“I don’t really know. He didn’t tell us, we just... found out. It took us a while to convince him to explain it properly and let us help. He didn’t want anyone worrying or treating him like glass; it doesn’t happen very often at all, and this is... this is the worst one I’ve ever seen.”

Arthur frowns and shakes his head slightly, but it’s Leon that speaks next:

“Why not tell us, at least? What if something had happened and you weren’t with us? We wouldn’t have known what was wrong.”

Mordred takes a deep breath and shrugs, nodding slightly, obviously aware that he couldn’t tell them about his and Merlin’s mental link:

“We tried telling him that, but he wouldn’t have it. We were maybe one more conversation away from convincing him to tell Gwaine or Guinevere, but I guess that’s not necessary anymore.”

Arthur pushes down the twinge of jealousy that Merlin had never even considered telling him, but it obviously shows on his face; Mordred scowls slightly, clenching his hands to try and cover his annoyance. Before either men can say anything, Lancelot comes back down from Merlin’s room, leaving Gaius with the young servant:

“It’s starting, Mordred we need to go, everyone else, out.”

Percival throws Lance’s tunic to him as the knights move to the door, albeit reluctantly, but Arthur doesn’t move, glaring down at Mordred angrily when the younger man stops him from going into Merlin’s room:

“He’s my manservant, I want to be there when he wakes up.”

Mordred narrows his eyes, and Arthur kicks himself for never realising how much Merlin meant to him before now, but before the knight can say anything, Lancelot steps up next to him, answering in his stead:

“No, me and Mordred will be there, that’s all he needs. You need to go, My Lord.”

Arthur gears up to argue, to pull rank, squaring his shoulders and snarling slightly, but an angry Lancelot is something he’s never seen and never had to deal with before, so he’s far too surprised to say anything when the knight interrupts his posturing:

“I said no, Arthur. He has to pretend in front of you. You’ve already done this to him,-”

He gestures angrily to the door to Merlin’s room:

“-he needs to not tense up and stress out immediately upon waking up.”

Arthur steps back slightly, but clears his throat, pushing through the slight heartbreak and guilt to argue:

“Oh, and he doesn’t have to pretend in front of you two?”

Mordred rolls his eyes, giving Lancelot a pointed look before stalking up to Merlin’s room, leaving the older knight to deal with the angry King. Lance clenches his jaw and lets out a harsh breath, looking away briefly, as if trying to stop himself from saying anything cruel, before giving up and glaring back at Arthur:

“No. He doesn’t. Because we, and Gaius, are the only people who actually know the first thing about Merlin, and he trusts us. He needs space, and time to heal, and comfort, not the demanding presence of a King whose already pushed him too far, who treats him like shit and forces him to think he has to hide who he is. For God’s sake, Arthur, can you please, for once, think of anyone but yourself.”

Arthur widens his eyes, and though Lancelot looks a little like he regrets what he said, he doesn’t back down, nodding to the door behind Arthur and not moving away until The King steps back again. Arthur takes a deep breath, turning to exit the Physician’s chambers before the knight could see the guilt on his face and the tears in his eyes. He leaves without looking back, ignoring the gaggle of knights waiting worriedly in the hall and stalking straight to his chambers, only just managing to shut the door behind him before the tears finally started falling.

Back in Merlin’s room, the servant thrashes in his sleep, whimpering despite Mordred’s comforting whispers in his head, Gaius’ hand in his hair, and Lancelot’s soft lap as a pillow. 

This... was going to be a tough one.

~

The End of part 1!!!

This was legit supposed to only be one part buuuuuuut we can all see how that went. Part two will follow on really quickly, but it was getting far too long to leave all as one 😅

I hope y’all enjoyed it, link to part 2(the final part) at the top!! :)

[tommyspeakycap]

Please could you write one with Grealish where you’re a Chelsea fan so refuse to wear a Villa shirt with his name on, and for bants Mount gets you a Chelsea shirt with his name and Jack gets all pouty?

omg I love this idea!! gets very smutty at the end ;) enjoy!

Villa Boy

A love for Chelsea had been something you adapted and grew to into as a young girl. Your dad was never entirely sure how to bond with his only daughter and your mother told him just to include you in what he loved. And so came your season pass with a little lanyard that still hung proudly in your childhood room right next to a shirt mounted in a glass photo frame with Frank Lampard's signature scrawled along the eight on the back.

It was actually how you met Jack in the first place, which is the only one single reason that he has for liking your club affiliation. Otherwise, it was one of the most annoying things in his world. It was often a source of teasing and taunting, you saying your team was better than his and him swaggering home and gloating for weeks when Aston Villa take a win over Chelsea. It was the bane of his life that he couldn't get you into that claret and blue. Not even to sleep in or wear around the house, you just would not dare put it on.

"I would feel my dad's shame emanate through the walls, maybe it would kill him. And then I'd lose every morsel of self respect I have, so not a chance." You'd snort, not even giving him a window for more persuasion.

His England shirt? that was fair game. You'd wear that with pride, to the shops, round the house, walking the dog and especially at his games but there was just absolutely no chance of getting you into his Villa shirt.

Though Jack may never admit it, it was one of his biggest wants. Seeing you in his England short was nothing short revolutionary - he'd said. It only made him want to see you in the Villa shirt more. That was his childhood club, getting to captain that was one of his biggest achievements and while he knew you were absolutely proud of him. You were the most proud and encouraging person in his life and there were no ifs buts or maybes in that.

But my god he knew you'd look fit in that claret and blue.

No matter how much it annoyed him, he wouldn't get you out of the darker blue home jersey of your favourite club no matter what he did. It was something he had come to accept over the course of your relationship, it was by and large fine.

Until that jersey said someone else's name across the back.

"Awh come on!" He yelps, mouth dropped open as you emerge into the kitchen with your toothbrush hanging out your mouth and only one shoe on. Jack knows you slept in because he switched off your alarm last night in hopes you'd miss the game, but Jack dropped a bowl when he tripped over the dog and woke you up anyway.

You going to the Villa v Chelsea game in a Chelsea shirt was bad enough, but now he's just clocked something that's sent his mind firing a mile a minute.

MOUNT

19

Not a fucking chance.

"Oi, you!" He calls out, throwing himself off the chair at the kitchen island, his feet fumbling over one another to get after you as quickly as possible. "What's up, Jack?" You hum innocently, a sweet smile playing on your lips as you stand in the doorway shoving on your other shoe. "Is something the matter?"

Jack gawks, opening and closing his mouth awaiting words to find his frazzled brain. "Yes!" He squeaks, a tone you'd never heard from a man before, let along your very deep voiced man. "There's no way that you're- what are you doing? Come back." He groans, his feet shuffling after you as you walk back through the house to find your car keys. "We're going to be late if you don't hurry up." You note sweetly, Jack drops his jaw. "We're not going anywhere until-"

"Hi Mason, yeah I got it. Fits like glove actually. Yeah, we're just leaving now. I'll meet you in the car park."

Jack's face was literally priceless. His agape, eye's wild, brows furrowed. A pout settles itself firmly into his lips the second he sits in the car with his arms folded over his chest like a toddler. You have to physically stifle a laugh at him as you beam the entire drive to Villa Park.

"M' gonna burn that." He states. You cast him a glance out the corner of your eye as you pull into the players parking. A snigger escapes despite your very best efforts and Jack resumes his frontward glare at the dashboard with his lips in a firm line. "Gonna win this game, burn that shirt and knock Mount flat."

You know he's not being serious about Mason. He's very fond of the player when they're on the same side. But you had become very close friends with him through the mutual love for the club he plays at and Jack absolutely despised that. He wasn't the kind to be bothered by your friends even to a moderate degree and even here he trusted you, he just fucking hated the concept of another club and another mans name over your back. It ticked him right off.

You know this very well. You knew what you were getting into the second Mason handed you that dark blue shirt. It was all fun and games really. You loved the club but you only wore the Mount shirt to get under Jack's skin. You thought it might even throw off his game a little.

The second he stormed onto the pitch and scored a goal 5 minutes into the game, you figured that might not be the case.

Every opportunity, every goal, every opening and every single tackle, Jack turned to you. He turned to you with fire in those brown eyes, sending you a cheeky wink. His passion, the very serious look etched onto his features and the way he was looking at you was fuelling a very different kind of fire in you.

Jack played the whole 90 minutes and he took Mason Mount down at every single given opportunity in a careful way that just evaded him getting a yellow card. He finished hot, sweaty and with a man of the match trophy for 2 goals and one assist with a majority of the game spent with the ball at his feet.

The 3 nil win should have been a lot more disappointing that it was, but he just looked so fucking good. The sweat stuck his hair to his temples, his muscles tight and protruding through exertion as he walks off the field after shaking every hand.

You're standing just outside the tunnel with Mason and John McGinn standing with you, talking about the match mostly. John makes a joke about you wearing that top more often, seems to be a good luck charm for Villa even if it's the opposing team. Mason scoffs and says; "More like an angry boyfriend wants to murder me charm."

That's when Jack appears and John barely gets his mouth open to greet him before Jack shoulders through the two footballers. His mouth finds your immediately. Hot, passionate, fiery and filled with his dominance.

He pulls back and grabs onto your hand tightly with his back to the two midfielders. Jack twists his body round with a daggering glare.

"Nobody," Jack growls, "fucks around with girl."

His tone, deep and gravelly, only serves to dampen your panties further in a way that makes your clench your legs together.

Jack's done with pouting, the teasing can resume later. For now, he's dragging you by the hand to a darkened conference room. Hiking you up his body before setting you on the table that sits at a miraculously perfect height that places you right against his bulge.

He wastes no time whatsoever ripping down your leggings and panties, his fingers finding you immediately to swirl pressured motions around your sensitive clit. "Ahh, who's got you moaning like that baby?" He rumbles, words vibrating through your lips.

"You Jack, oh god, you!" You pant as his fingers leave you feeling empty and needy. Jack easily tugs down his shorts and pulls himself out of his boxers to line up with your entrance. His victory sex is hot always, but usually there was a dry spell after a Villa v Chelsea game, so it had never been this hot.

"And who am I?" He grunts, pushing himself into you to hear your shuddering squeak of pleasure. He lays you down over the table, hands following you under your shirt to carefully and tentatively swirl his fingers over your nipples from under your bra. "Oh god, Jack," you move your hands to the hem of the blue shirt to lift it over your head, but Jack's hands stop them before you have the chance.

"No, no, no," he chastises with a smirk, "Want to fuck you in their colours," He continues to thrust roughly into you with each heavy breath, mouth and squeak that escapes you only spurring him on. "Want to fuck you with his name on your back, baby. Remind you who you belong to."

You shudder in pleasure with the feeling of his lips attaching to your neck, letting out a shaky, heavy breath as he snakes a hand down between you to swirl those circles around your more pleasureful spot once again. He knows the intricate details of your body better than any man ever has and he always ensures he uses it to his advantage, but nothing like today. His lips on the sweet spot of your neck, hitting and stretching you perfect between your legs with masterful work of his fingers pushing you closer and closer with each second that passed.

"Fuck , I'm so close-"

"Who's making you feel so good, baby?" He pants, skin slapping and heavy breathing echoing around the room. "You, Jack. You!"

"Not a Chelsea boy eh?" He grunts, teeth nibbling down over your collarbone. "Not a Chelsea boy baby is it?" He reiterates, pairing the movements of his hand only until you snap open your eyes again, "No Jack, it's all you. not a- oh god!"

Jack breathes a chuckle into your ear with an appreciative hum to follow.

"Yeah, Villa Captain isn't it? You're screaming out for a Villa boy, ain't ya?" He coaxes, edging you further and further as he speeds up to a pace he's never quite hit you with before. The adrenaline of the match, the irritation of that blue jersey and the passion for the win colliding to give him an energy he's never yet had. Watching your eyes roll beneath him wearing that stupid blue entices him on, only makes him want to pleasure you more if even possible. "Yes! Yes, I am, oh god just don't stop."

"Go on then," he encourages, voice deep in your ear. "Come undone for the Villa Captain baby."

He didn't have to tell you twice, that was for sure. The sight of your eyes fluttering, the feeling of you clenching around him with a steam of, "Fuck yes Jack!" sends him tumbling over the edge of his orgasm right after you, a strangle cry out of your name as it wracks through him.

When he lays down beside you in the table that very surpassingly withstood the pace of your antics, you're both breathless and shining with sweat. Your legs feel like jelly as you still throb from the pleasure. Jack turns his head to you with a lazy smirk, brushing some hair off your forehead as you turn to look at him.

"Well, I certainly do love a Villa boy."

[willsimpforanyone]

Hey there! May I have a request of Will Solace having an older sister sister who is best friends with the seven +Thalia, Nico, and Reyna headcanons?

i can definitely do that, thank you for being so patient!

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

Percy Jackson Excited that he has someone to tease Nico and Will with. Introduces himself as Nico's older brother. Will make plans with you to secretly follow them on dates because he has GOT to see Nico's 'not angsty' side.

Annabeth Chase A little skeptical of how close you and Percy are initially, but after seeing that it's just a sibling relationship becomes friends with you real fast. For your birthday she presents you with a blueprint of an acoustically sound amphitheatre.

Piper McLean Your voice and her charmspeak are a deadly force, and she will drag you to sing with her round the campfire. Allows her mother to shine through with you and begs for all the info on Nico and Will's relationship, and in return you get to know about all the other couples in camp.

Jason Grace Awkward kid, but genuinely enjoys hanging out with you. I feel like he prefers hanging out in groups, but isn't opposed to one-on-one. Likes fighting you in an arena. When you fight others he finds it funny when the sunlight never shines in your eyes and always in your opponents.

Leo Valdez The kid hits on you, but gets flustered as hell if you every flirt back. Gets hyped to show you new inventions and new modifications he made to the ship. Will act like it's annoying but will secretly love it if you ask him to teach you Spanish or Morse Code.

Hazel Levesque Since Nico is fond of you, she ends up following his lead and regarding you as something of an older sister herself. Loves spending time with you, and you kind of adopt her and do things with her that a normal older sibling would do like shopping and ordering pizza and watching stupid movies.

Frank Zhang Trusts you because Hazel trusts you. Feels comfortable enough to joke around with you. Enjoys just chilling with you- the others can get a bit much for him because he can be quite shy, but knows he can just sit and read or something with you.

Reyna Ramirez Admires how you can take charge of some of the younger ones. Appreciates that you take the time to listen to her vent about being put into a leadership position at a fairly young age. You're her fighting partner when the two of you need to release tension.

Thalia Grace Likes you because Jason likes you, and trusts his judgement of friends. Considers you very much like a sister herself, will come to you if people are pissing her off because she knows you're down to spar, to chill, to rant, anything to help her and she'd do the same for you.

Nico Di Angelo Boyfriend's older sister? He's gonna be a little terrified of you but changes his mind very quickly when he finds out you were the one yelling at Will to ask him out. Still a little awkward around you because boyfriend's family but once he's older he ends up looking at you with a Bianca-like fondness.

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this one took longer than expected bc my housemate is screaming at the football and the walls are thin af but i hope you enjoyed, thank you for requesting!