#bc usually people still seem to like me despite how strange i am

[kachulein]

someone: how are you these days?

me: hm, do you want a detailed version now or just a summary like "I'm fine"?

[a-court-of-moonlight-and-ire]

I finally read again today, chapters 34-39 this time

Usually I read these books in german while on the bus but today I forgot my book, but fortunately, I had some time to go to the library and they had it, but only in english. And since I was sitting at a table with my phone, I was able to take notes live as I read, and I'd like to share those with you rather than doing what I usually do and trying to sum up all of my thoughts a few hours later

Chapter 35:

the fact that NO ONE in the summer court recognized Feyre is absolutely ridiculous, it really is like her accomplishments from the first just vanished, no wonder so many people recommend just skipping ahead to MAF i bet that would make the reading experience wayyyyy less frustrating

shes cursing herself from being so out of shape despite Cassian's 'lessons' and that reminds me, at the start of ACOMAF her internal monologue and other characters kept remarking on how thin and frail she had become and I dont think its come up since she started staying at the NC permanently, great mental health rep girlie

"I let instinct, no doubt granted from Rhys, guide me forward." Come onnnnnnnn, can Feyre not be cool on her own for one (1) moment

"Amarathan did not break that kindness [from before UTM]." no, but Rhys sure did

Once again, Feyre is horrified at her violating Tarquin's mind, rightfully so, and yet she continues to hang out with His Majesty, The King of Violating Minds

Rhys tells Feyre that she "thinks like an Illyrian", which is very strange to me given that Illyrian women are literally not allowed to do anything other than housework and Illyrian men are seemingly all violent misogynists whom Rhys hates

Chapter 36:

"I'd bet they wouldn't have handed over that book" but you didnt ask them though??? Like, they couldve just told Tarquin about their plans, he seems reasonable enough, even if Cresseida and Varian dont agree, he as high lord should be able to override their opinions easily and if that doesnt work out THEN you can go ahead and steal it. Sure, maybe they wouldve trippled security and/or thrown them out of the SC but that should hardly be an obstacle for The Most Powerful Highlord In The History Of Prythian and his eldritch girl best friend

Okay, so Rhysand did pack illyrian leathers for her which is nice, but still, I see no reason why Feyre had to wear dresses for this (and be okay with wearkng dresses when she absolutely wasnt at the start of ACOMAF) when the NC clearly has more feminine fashion involving pants

Theres lead in this vaguely medieval fantasy world?? And theyve had for like centuries?? That seems weird to me I'll have to look into that i think

Okay, so Feyre shapeshifted into Tarquin and she says that she didnt let any part of herself that wasnt Tarquin shine through while she opened the books locks, but those shapeshifting powers are Tamlin's though. That has some very interesting implications but tbh idk if I trust sjm to have thought about it that much

"I am summer; I am sea and sun and green things" that just sounds kinda silly, also I feel like it shouldve been "I am sea and sun and golden sand" given the beach vibes that the Summer Court has

Chapter 37:

note to self: lookup what Leshon Hakodesh is exactly bc theres no way its not some random mythological term that sjm is just dropping into her world [edit: its just the jewish term for 'the Holy Tongue', im not gonna question the implications of that any more than im gonna question the existence of Nyx as a minor goddess or something in this world]

Rhysand doesnt tells anyone jackshit and Cassian is ready to stab Amren if she dares go against him, why are these jokers friends again?

Chapter 38:

granted, its been a while since I read this book and my memory isnt the best, but why exactly does Rhysand need to keep the 'why' of their mission secret? wasnt their mission just to find the cauldron before Hybern does and prevent a war with prythian and the human world?? I guess maybe Rhys doesnt wanna reveal his secret goodness or whatever, but he couldve just had Feyre act as some kind of emissary to the rest of Prythian, like, just have her pretend this is information she found out by herself at the Night Court and have her relay it to the other courts, Feyre has saved them before they have no reason not to listen to her

"'I think Tarquin wanted to be my friend.'" question, is Tarquin/Rhys a thing? Obviously Rhys doesnt deserve Tarquin but idk, there could be something there I think. they have some nice aesthetic contrasts

why would Feyre say stuff like "mother above" when thats not a deity she believed in for most of her life? Like, I already talked about how Feyre clearly had the impulse to pray in ACOTAR she just didnt do it because the names of the mortal gods have been long forgotten, but idk, I feel like her starting to embrace fae religion warrants more exploration. and fae religion in general warrants more exploration tbh

"'Its not the end of the world if you [make a mistake] every now and then'" hello??? Feyre, he made you steal from a man that has been nothing but kind to you for no reason and now theres a bounty on your heads!! And lets not forget that Rhys, Amren and Feyre are all highranking politicians in the night court, youre lucky the SC is too occupied with rebuilding itself to declare war on your asses

I keep saying this, its so infuriating how well Feyre and Rhysand already get along when theyve spent like, 2 or maybe 3 months if Im being very generous, worth of time together aside from their time UTM

god Feysand flirting is the most straight bullshit to ever straight bullshit I feel like im gonna die

Shes thinking about buying RED "lacy things" when that was meant to be a trigger for her, did no one edit this

"a sensual male voice chuckled with midnight laughter" istg the prose is so much worse in english

Feyre having to make herself focus to not look at Rhysand dick after he just had a horrible nightmare has the same energy as Bryce Crescent City thinking about how hot and muscular Hunt is while he just completely shut down because he had to kill someone

"The hole in my chest that was slowly starting to heal over" can you BE more unsubtle

Chapter 39:

Rhysand tattooing the symbol of the nightcourt onto both his knees because he "will bow for no one and nothing but his crown" is actually so funny, i wish he did more cringefail bullshit like that

I think out of all the inner circle relationships, I like Amren and Feyre the best so far and I absolutely do not believe that Cassian cares about Amren at all, much less sees her as family, that guy would kill her in a heartbeat if he could

forgive my aromanticness, but I really dont like the thing that Amren and Varian have going on, cant there be ONE character that doesnt have some stupid romance subplot in this world

Oh, so Mor telling Feyre very little of any specific plans they have is fine, but if someone from the spring court does it theyre the worst person ever

"[Cassian told me] that my family was full of bossy, know-it-all females" oh but hes sooooo much better than all those other illyrians who are all sexist brutes

Why are Beron and Helion the only ones with a last name

"[Strolling through Velaris with Mor] was perhaps my favorite, and the female certainly excelled at finding ways to spend money" are you fucking kidding me, are there actually people who consider a book with this kind of blatant 'women b shopping' bullshit to be feminist?

"'I wanted to protect my people, change the perceptions of the Illyrians, and eliminate the corruption that plagued the land'" wow Rhys and youve done such a good job at all of those things in the 500 years youve been on the throne

"[Tamlin] resented being High Lord — and maybe... maybe that was part of why the court had become what it was" ???? girlie what are you talking about, the spring court is fine right now it doesnt get destroyed until ACOWAR. which is also you fault

so Feyre is once again wearing a chiffon gown for political reasons when she could very well be wearing pants and shes completely fine with that. great

And Mor is wearing red and Feyre is completely unbothered by it, why give her a trigger like that if it just stops mattering the second shes out of the spring court

[ootahime]

analyzing every gojohime moment in the manga 😈

this series will probably have more than one part because tumblr only lets me upload ten images per post </3

warning: there are disgustingly long paragraphs in here and delusions

chapter 32

utahime’s first introduction!  akutami lets us know right off the bat that she thinks gojo is an idiot (so true).

chapter 32

i love the contrast between miwa and utahime’s reaction to gojo’s appearance.  

chapter 33

NAH BC TELL ME WHY HE WENT OUT OF HIS WAY TO NOT GET HER ONE LMAOOOO!!  when he traveled overseas to meet with yuta, he picked up the tribal protection charms and thought to himself, “let’s get enough for the kyoto students as a gift since i am such a great and caring teacher, after all.  mmm, i should skip utahime to make her mad~”  this guy puts way too much effort into getting on her nerves.  his mind = utahime brainrot

chapter 33

she’s laughing at him here because he’s getting disciplined for being a lil shit.  i wonder...what would he say if he saw her laughing at him like that?  

chapter 33

this interaction between them is a little strange don’t you think?   i feel like over the years he’s learned how to pick up her mood based on the way she’s acting towards him.  you’re probably thinking, “well any person can figure out how a person’s feeling based on the way they’re talking or acting.”  yes, that’s absolutely true, but it’s kind of different with this.  she’s acting normal.  utahime has a rather indifferent expression on her face and what she says is spoken in a calm tone, but gojo still asks her if she’s mad at him.  it’s likely that he knows her well enough to be able to notice these subtle things.  even if she wasn’t actually mad at him, he was being considerate for a split second, then he went and said, “of course.  i didn’t do anything wrong and all.”  what a guy LOLOL.  to me, this implies that maybe he made her genuinely angry in the past to the point where he realized that he went too far, and thus decided to be more careful of her feelings.  she has definitely gotten annoyed at him so many times after that so whenever she seems angry, he probably asks himself if he took it too far.  i’m curious to see if he can pick up if she’s upset with something that’s not involving him.  would he console her?  how does gojo satoru console someone?  

despite him always annoying her, she’s still courteous and brings him a cup of tea during their talk.  she didn’t have to go out of her way to get tea for him but she did.  that’s the kind of person utahime is.  a kind and caring woman who would never put her students in danger.  in the anime they were sitting far away and not facing each other like they’re doing in the manga.  she also has her own tea cup.  i think that little panel of her placing the cup down on the table and him picking it up to take a sip is a nice little detail.  it just proves that her hating him most of the time isn’t actually pure hatred but annoyance because of his shenanigans and teasing.

chapter 33

i touched upon this a little bit in my previous post, but i wish to go more in depth about this panel.  first of all, he ends the sentence with her name twice.  two times too many, mr. gojo.  i like how they can be serious with each other too LOL.  i wish we got to see them talk about the traitors because they did figure it out together after all.  does it always end in bickering?  can they interact with each other like adults all the way through?  somehow, i feel like that’s not possible when it comes to these two.  furthermore, notice how gojo confides in utahime about his suspicions.  from what we know, she is the first person he brought it up to.  i mean, i guess he has to start investigating the schools and would need extra assistance to save time, but he could have done it himself if he really wanted to.  by deciding to ask for her help we know that he thinks she’s trustworthy, smart, and strong enough to face whatever considerable risks this task may entail.  

i didn’t point this out in my other posts but see how he makes a hand sign in the last panel when she throws the cup at him?  gojo is manually activating his infinity.  why though?  about a year after the whole star plasma vessel incident happened, gojo develops the ability to keep his infinity up at all times by using the reversed curse technique to consistently heal himself to prevent exhaustion.  this means that it really makes no difference whether he leaves it on or off.  there are a few times where we can witness someone actually touching gojo.  for example, yuuji giving him a hug.  did he turn his infinity off, or was it able to deduce that yuuji was not a threat?  the erasers and pencils shoko and geto threw at him during his demonstration of his new ability aren’t dangerous normally, but is it the speed that makes them dangerous?  even if it did hit him, it wouldn’t hurt.  how does the infinity know when to allow an incoming object to touch gojo?  i believe it is up to gojo himself to let things touch him; his infinity restricts anything and anyone.  some people say it could just be the fact that water is not dangerous to him, so therefore, he has to manually put his infinity up.  i thought this was a reasonable explanation as to why he put up the hand sign when the tea was thrown at him, but then i realized that it couldn’t be.  remember the second opening?  it’s raining and everyone is carrying an umbrella, then it pans to gojo with a bouquet in his hand and rain drops slipping off his infinity.  if he DID manually put his infinity up to prevent getting soaked then that implies that he chose to turn his infinity off.  you can argue and say that jujutsu high is a safe place with students so there’s no need to have his infinity there, but do you remember when he stepped on the ants in front of gakuganji and yaga?  the ants were perfectly fine after which insinuates that his infinity prevented his shoes from crushing the ants.  he most likely had his infinity on during the baseball game even though he was in a safe environment.  how does this long tangent relate back to utahime?  well, it simply indicates that gojo trusts utahime so much to the point where he can be vulnerable around her.  turning off his infinity symbolizes completely letting down his guard  in a way.  

how about what happens next?  utahime throws the tea at him, he turns on his infinity to deflect it, and he responds with, “scary!  hysteric women aren’t popular, you know!”  why would he even say that LMAO??  utahime doesn’t even try to deny what he said either.  she just hits him with the good old, “i am your senpai!”  could it be that he’s trying to poke fun of her relationship status?  maybe, maybe not.  doesn’t he like people a lil crazy?  he did say that all jujutsu sorcerers have to be a little crazy because they’re willing to put themselves in danger constantly.  

chapter 0 p.1

i wonder who he’s thinking of when he said that.  could it be utahime?  it seems like he’s reminiscing or thinking about someone.  he wears an amused expression on his face as he laughs - almost like he’s seen his fair share of how scary women can get :>>

chapter 34

the pattern behind gojo and utahime is called yagasuri “fletching,” a traditional japanese design.  this design is inspired by arrow fletching.  it's a lucky charm for weddings and other celebrations since it's based on the Japanese belief that an arrow shot once never comes back.  brides were given kimonos with this pattern for good luck during the edo era (1603–1868) to ensure they would not have to return to their original family home.  this pattern can have numerous meanings such as steadfastness or determination to achieve a goal, or a wish for the happiness of the bride.  there is a belief that a bow and arrow represent the fight against evil.  honestly, this meaning fits the narrative of the story.  utahime and gojo are unearthing the traitors that are feeding intel to the curse users and cursed spirits.  they are in the middle while the kyoto students surround them, which could mean that it’s their job as adults to protect these children from the grasps of evil slowly making itself more prominent.  do you also notice that the arrows are pointed toward utahime from gojo?  from all the images i’ve seen, the arrows are usually pointed downward.  what could this mean?  is gojo trying to protect her (in the future (?)) or does he have a big fat crush smh...

i think it’s a good time to mention utahime’s clothing.  she’s wearing miko attire.  miko are shrine maidens who were once thought to be shamans (you connecting the dots?).  in their service to shrines, miko used to perform spirit possession and takusen (in which the possessed person acts as a "medium" (yorimashi) to communicate the divine will or message of that kami (god) or spirit; also included in the category of takusen is "dream revelation" (mukoku), in which a kami appears in a dream to communicate its will).  this was back in the old days, of course.  to become a miko back then (shaman), one needed to have potential.  neurosis, hallucinations, odd behavior, and hysteria (HYSTERIA HELLO???) are some of the signs that a person is being called to shamanism.  when a miko is communicating with a kami (god) or spirit by acting as a medium, she is in a trance-like state, and so she must learn techniques to control herself when this happens.  chanting and dancing were used to accomplish this, so the girl was taught melodies and intonations that were used in songs, prayers, and magical formulas.  all of this could give us insight about utahime’s technique and explains why she’s good at singing :)  maybe she can’t control herself when she uses her technique which is why she isn’t shown using it because it should be used for dire situations.  i imagine being possessed by a spirit or god must consume a lot of cursed energy.  it makes sense that utahime and gakuganji wear traditional clothing.  they’re the staff of jujutsu high’s kyoto branch.  in chapter 0, kyoto is known as the sacred land of jujutsu.  it’s more traditional compared to tokyo.  if you want to learn more about miko, you should check out the wikipedia page!  

chapter 34

i swear he tries to annoy her every chance he gets.  i bet he sets a goal for himself to see how many times utahime lectures him about respecting his seniors every time he’s within the same vicinity as her.  at least he called her utahime-sensei!!!

chapter 40

this isn’t even a gojohime moment tbh...i just wanted to share a pic of them sitting next to each other HEHE.  why are they sitting next to each other anyway?  it’s not like they have assigned seating.

----

that was so long and i apologize for the gargantuan paragraphs you guys had to read through.  i’m writing this at 4 in the morning and i’m feeling borderline delirious so i apologize if there are any errors.  i’ll edit this when i have time <3

the next part should come shortly.

[yesimwriting]

The Promise of Rain, Blurb 3

Technically the third in a blurb-ish series (though this is kinda long for a blurb lol) but can technically be read as a stand alone, but i think the other parts make this seem more significant lol

A/n kinda angsty, not sure if i loveeee this but i haven’t posted a fic in such a long time bc of graduation chaos but now it’s summer and i’m working on a lot of requests/stories :))

Summary: jealousy is out of place when there’s no real warrant for it, and sometimes it’s okay to be content--to not need the rain to make you promises. 

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x sunshine-y! reader

--

Tiredness dulls the part of me that craves the rambunctious, but I’m still positive. I smile when someone does something only the truly inebriated find comical. I laugh when something somewhat actually funny happens, and I let the world around me drink. Twenty minutes--in twenty minutes I will claim a headache and go upstairs. 

“You okay, y/n?” Jesper’s concern would border on genuinely considerate if it wasn’t for the slightest hint of slur in his words. Nights in which he consols himself after losing game after game are when he’s the friendliest. “You’re strangely quiet--you’re never quiet.” 

I press my lips together oddly, smiling in a way that finally reaches my eyes. Jesper’s nice in an oddly particular way when he’s tipsy. Overly observant and careful. “Just a little tired,” I shift in my seat, leaning back against the plush seat in Kaz’s office, “I wish Kaz would just get here and dismiss us so I can go to bed.” 

Jesper smiles, lifting his arm slightly and causing his glass to sway. Kaz is not going to take it well when he realizes that Jesper was extremely involved in the downstairs celebration. He turns ungracefully, moving to sit next to me with no warning. I half-heartedly glare as he takes up most of the small couch. 

“You’re grumpy when you’re tired,” Jesper hums, stretching his casually. 

I sigh once, but it lacks any bite. “I do not.” 

He smiles easily, tilting his head so far to the side that it falls against the back of the seat, “No...but I know the real reason you’re grumpy.” 

Rolling my eyes, I suppress my instinctual reaction. That would only expose his words as true. “I am not grumpy, there is no reason--” 

“You know he hated it.” 

I exhale, tired and slowly losing my fragine hold on fake tranquility. “Yeah.” That should make it  better. “I know.” It doesn’t--it doesn’t make anything better. 

So the contact we so desperately needed on our side took to flirting with Kaz. It was an uncomfortable situation because of its precariousness and I was worried because I know about his issues with touch. But it’s not like I care about the flirting part. No. It was unprofessional and so easily turned messy--that’s what my problem was.

Jesper sighs, stretching even more. I let him stretch his legs over me, too tired to push him off. I sigh, setting my chin on his bent knees. “What’s with the face, l/n?” 

I roll my eyes again. Sometimes having someone care about you is annoying. I take back all of my positive thoughts about him--Jesper Fahey is an annoying drunk. 

“There’s no face,” despite my words, I feel my expression sour even further. Jesper’s expression shifts from that of gentle worry to teasing pride. “And if there was one, it wouldn’t be because of Kaz Brekker.”

Jesper’s lips twitch upwards, something strange tainting his tipsy grin. “I never said a name.” 

“One more condescending comment, and I’m shoving you off this damn couch.” 

He laughs flatly, shifting closer and making himself more comfortable. Drunk and touchy--anyone else would have been slapped by now. “You’re nicer after some of this.” 

He holds his glass out towards me casually, amber liquid sloshing slightly. I blink at the liquid with slight disinterest. I’m not exactly in the drinking mood...but I’m not exactly in the mood for any of this. The sound of the door opening doesn’t phase me--it’s not Inej, because she never lets herself be heard. Kaz doesn’t say anything, taking one dull step and then another, footsteps leaching the room of any warmth. The coldness he exudes so easily as a mask is strong tonight, I haven’t even looked at him and I can feel it. 

Maybe I do need a drink. 

I take the glass from Jesper, taking a quick and shallow sip of the liquid. It’s offensive in smell, taste, and the way it spills down my throat. The taste is much more intense than expected, some of the liquid slips past the corner of my mouth. Somehow more bitter than this moment, the liquid leaves me ready to splutter like a child. I exhale, pushing through the burning. Jesper moves his hand forward absentmindedly, wiping a single drop of liquid from my chin carelessly. The gesture would be sweet if my throat burned less. 

“Jesper,” the warmth of the alcohol takes root in my chest, “That’s--” He laughs at my reaction, coaxing a smile from me. “Like literally the worst--why do you even have this?” If this is served in the Crow Club, I’ve never heard of it, this is the kind of under the counter alcohol that isn’t mass produced. 

He laughs a little more freely. “Won it off of someone passing through--I don’t always lose.” 

I wrinkle my nose, “An outlier shouldn’t be--” 

“Oh, shut up.” Jesper laughs again. 

“Both of you ‘shut up’,” Kaz sighs, stepping further into the room, “If you need to drink, at least wait until after my meeting.” I frown, ignoring Kaz’s lingering and sharp gaze, “You should all follow Inej’s example.” 

“We can’t even see Inej.” 

Kaz raises an eyebrow, but he regards me with nothing but voidness. He’s never exactly emotive, but normally in moments like this something I can never interpret touches his expression, coloring it human. “Exactly.” 

“You’re funnier than people give you credit for.” The comment isn’t exactly sarcastic, but it’s something lighter than I should be offering. It’s an attempt at peace, the slight stiffness between us is starting to bother me. Our usual dynamic isn’t exactly friendly, but it’s more than this. Kaz glares. “But not tonight.” 

His expression hardens. “Business is business. It’s not humor, it’s not whatever you try to make it.” Right. Just like it was business when that girl spent more time hitting on him than actually revealing real information. The thought leaves my expression tight as I swallow back my instinctual words. “It’s not whatever you’re currently doing.” 

It takes me longer than it should to realize he’s referring to the position Jesper and I are in. Can he relax? It’s not my fault Jesper is tipsy and touchy. 

“Kaz,” Inej’s voice is soft yet determined as she emerges from the shadows. It’s a miracle the way she’s nothing more than a shadow until she chooses not to be. “What’s our next job?” 

Prompting Kaz in order to prevent a fight--Inej, always the closest thing to a mom available. I give her a partial smile, glad that she’s wedging herself between us and the tension, preventing conflict I’m too tired to follow through on.

“A merchant’s house,” he begins slowly, “We’ll be searching a merchant’s house but I’m seeking evidence more than property.” Jesper swings his legs off the couch with no warning. My head falls. I glare at Jesper who offers me a slightly apologetic tsk before dropping his head on my shoulder. Kaz must note the exchange because something in his expression tightens. He’s extra irritable today. “I’ll disclose more tomorrow,” he sighs once, already turning away, “Most of you are beyond listening tonight anyways.” 

He’s at the door before I can tell him that I’m not drunk. The door opens and closes, but Kaz’s heaviness lingers like led. I frown, letting my head fall to the side, resting on Jesper’s.

“He’s weird today,” I mumble, unsure if I want a reply. 

“He’s always like that,” Jesper breathes, “You’re losing your novelty, y/n--he always learns to harden himself against anything bright.” 

The words leave me even more tired. “I don’t think I’m particularly bright.” 

“Kaz does,” Inej replies, “And it has nothing to do with ‘novelty’, Jesper’s just cynical when he drinks.” I don’t know if I believe her, but I like knowing that Inej thinks that. “And Kaz can’t harden himself against you, and he hates that.” 

I press my lips together, straightening my spine. “I’m not that great, and whatever Kaz does or doesn’t harden himself against doesn’t affect me at all.” My nails press into the plush seat. “I don’t even know why we’re talking about this because whatever he does or doesn’t feel doesn’t matter to me.” I force myself up, doing all I can to seem perfectly calm. “All I care about is going to bed.”

Turning my head, I start to approach the door. Kaz has been strangely cold all night, and while I’m used to his moods, he hasn’t exactly directed them at me so fully since the day he caught me waiting for him to wake up after he almost died. If he wants to go back to how it used to be, then it can. Maybe I’ll care in the morning, when the growing weight of my eyelids is no longer a distraction.

“Sometimes the two of you confuse me,” Inej begins, “And sometimes I see you try to deal with emotion and I see the common ground.” 

The words leave me cold. I don’t think being compared to Kaz is an insult, not when there’s so much it could mean. He’s much more complex than he wants to be. There is goodness within him, gilding the parts of him that are more shards than anything else.  

I exhale, refusing to turn. Inej is too observant for her own good. “There is no emotion.” 

“I’m not going to waste my time arguing over that because I know it’s a waste of time.” She pauses and I consider turning around in hopes of reading something less honest from her expression. “I’m just telling you as a friend that one of you needs to be mature and talk to the other tonight before the tension gets worse and that it’s not going to be him.” 

She’s right. I exhale, “Do you think I should let him go?” Even just saying that leaves my heart aching. I know instantly that that’s not what I want, but it might be what he wants--it might be the best option. I might have the strength to let him go if I work at it. “I don’t--that’s not what I want and I’m not sure I could, but maybe that’s selfish of me.” 

“Y/n.” I turn slowly, but I purposefully avoid her gaze, keeping my head down. “I know that I’ve known Kaz longer than you, and I know that when he’s getting along with you he’s,” she trails off, uncertain, “More him, in a good way.” 

My heart swells, and with that comes feelings of panic. I never wanted to change him--to make him better or worse or anything; all I’ve ever wanted is to know him and to maybe help him with his burden. And to hear that maybe I’ve done that from someone so close to him--someone so observant and aware. That’s everything. And that terrifies me. Nothing good can last; nothing that seems to be all you could ever want actually is. I know that from life before the Crows, before I ran away from the castle I called home.

“I think he does the same for you.” I’ve never really thought about Kaz’s effect on me outside of the fact that he makes me feel warm in small moments and painfully seen in large ones. 

I smile because she’s trying and she’s given me something. “I’d say I’d tell you when I make my decision, but something tells me you’ll know.” 

She nods, expression shifting to something kind. “Goodnight, y/n.” 

Jesper stretches out on the couch, settling himself comfortably, “Night, y/n.”

“Goodnight, guys.” I disappear past the door easily, heading towards my room.

I haven’t decided whether or not I’m going to look for Kaz tonight. How much damage could be done in one night? Maybe he needs space. Maybe seeking him out now will make things worse. I exhale, opening the door to my room easily. I’ll decide before going to sleep.

When I step into the room, everything is in place. Everything is fine--but something about it feels off. The light is on. I didn’t leave the light on. Nothing else raises any red flags, so I continue into the room calmly, examining everything carefully. Nothing feels out of place as I further enter the room. I take in my bed, my dresser, and lastly my nightstand. 

My heart swells all over again, but this time it feels even heavier than before. On the center of my nightstand, in perfect condition, is a copy of Pride and Prejudice. The same book I told Kaz about, the one thing besides clothing I took from the palace. I told him it was my mother’s favorite and then he asked me to read it to him. 

I can’t picture him seeing this and thinking of me. I can’t picture him thinking of me--but no one else knew about my attachment to the book. I need to find him. I need to--to see him, to speak to him. To look him in the eye and see something I only ever see when we’re alone. Maybe he won’t have that look this time, but that’s okay. 

I can’t expect to always understand him, but that does not mean I don’t know him. 

The thought leaves me feeling a little more settled within the boundaries of my skin, but I don’t ease entirely. The good is more frightening than the bad. My fear of happiness is a benign secret I haven’t had to worry about in years. I don’t know enough about it to know how to deal with it let alone mention it to Kaz. Not that it’s his problem. 

I squeeze the book to my stomach. Swallowing pride is a difficult thing, but I’m used to it with him. It’s usually worth it with Kaz because sometimes when I try he tries in his own way. I should find him. He’s not awfully creative about where he goes when he wants to be alone because people know better than to bother him. Kaz is probably in his attic or getting air outside or…

The lights were on when I came in. I’m an idiot. I didn’t feel weird when I walked into the room because of the book. Someone’s in here. He’s in here. 

Setting the book down like I should have never touched it, I let out a sigh. “Lurking is unbecoming.” 

“It’s also unbecoming to work for me and be so easily distracted by a book.” His voice reveals nothing as he emerges from the shadows. “I could have killed you with how long it took for you to notice my presence.” He pauses, eyebrows drawing together. “The light was on.” 

Normally I’d have some kind of comment, some kind of joke that offers a more peaceful situation. “I know.” It’s a flat response. “I think on some subconscious level I knew,” I drop my gaze away from him, “I knew I was okay.” That sounds dumb. “I mean...I think I knew it was you so I knew I was okay.” Yeah, that wasn’t anymore eloquent. “That doesn’t make sense, but if you get to be confusing, I do too.”

“Confusing? There’s nothing to understand.” Curt. Simple. Dismissive. 

I frown. ‘Nothing to understand’. Right, because there’s nothing confusing about how quickly he decided to dismiss me just to bring me some obscenely sentimental gift. “If you’re mad at me, you should at least tell me why.” I press my lips together. “At least that way I’ll know if I need to apologize or kick your ass.” 

At that, he presses his lips together, corner of his mouth threatening to tilt upwards. “You would kick my ass?”

Great, even when he’s easing he has to be annoying. “I could.” There is no universe in which I could take him in a physical fight. “On a good day.” I let out a breath, doing all I can to not focus on his expression. Awkwardness settles in my chest as my eyes land on my bed. I sit down, trying not to let my shoulders slump tiredly as I stretch my legs across my bed. “You’re not having a good day.” 

“My day is fine, I’m just not naively cheerful like you,” his words turn sharp, “Or Jesper.” 

Weird addition. “Jesper’s not cheerful, he’s just drunk.” I let go of the ‘naive’ part, deciding to focus on the bigger picture. “And I’m not as naive or joyful as you think I am.” I’m not sure if I mean that as a rebuttal or just a fact. “I have bad days too.” This isn’t the kind of conversation I should have while this tired. “I could be less cheerful if you’d like.” 

He’s so silent I momentarily wonder if he’s left. “No.” It’s not much, but I take it. Straightening my back, I pull my legs beneath me, intentionally creating space. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Ah, blatant rejection. It would sting if I was less in the right. “Maybe you’ll be less weird then.” 

“I am not being weird.” At least I’m getting some kind of reaction from him. “You’re the one who--” 

“Who what?” Finally--progress. 

Kaz sighs, turning slightly. “You’re the one who decided to ignore me after we met with the contact.” I part my lips, ready to retort, but no words come. He did pick up on my slight annoyance, and he reciprocated it in a much larger way. 

He can never know that this all came from some ridiculous, territorial--partial jealousy. “I didn’t mean to ignore you,” partial lie, “I’m just kind of in a weird place today, I’m tired.” 

“Not too tired for Jesper, it seems.” 

What? Is that what this is about? “What? All I did was sit there--he’s a touchy drunk and I just happened to be next to him.” 

“You laugh with him,” he says this blankly, “You can touch him.” 

The edge of unsafe territory cuts into me at an odd angle. Is this about him? Is he really tormenting himself over something so asinine to me when it comes to him? I’d rather have him than all the physical touch in the world. The book on the nightstand feels closer to me, growing by the prospect of its significance alone. That gesture, that’s more intimate than anything Jesper and I did downstairs. 

“So?” I straighten my back slightly. “It doesn’t mean anything.” 

He presses his lips together. “That’s the problem--anyone can manage meaningless contact…” The silence is louder than the words that came before it. Oh. I guess I’m not the only one who gets just a little jealous in an unwarranted way. “What if you were hurt? What if you were hurt and we were alone and you needed someone to help you and I couldn’t?” He lets out a sigh, a sound too tired for me to associate with him. “You say you don’t care now, but you’ll grow tired of it--the only life I can offer.” 

Inej’s words about the similarities between Kaz and I echo in my mind. “Sometimes I don’t like when things are going well because I don’t know how to be truly content, fully happy.” Saying this twists my stomach. “I don’t know how to trust good things, so whenever there are good things I think about all the ways I could ruin something and then I do.” I take a breath. “I’m not saying that things are particularly good for you or that you’re happy, but I am saying that maybe you shouldn’t think three steps ahead when there’s nothing to think ahead about.” I regard his expression carefully, but nothing has changed. “I told you the only thing I want is to know you, and that’s not going to change.”

“Y/n,” his voice is low, “I am not rain--I can’t promise you anything.” 

I scratch my knee, dropping my gaze. “For once I don’t want rain.” 

Kaz sighs. “Get some sleep.” Something about the way he’s speaking is authoritative but it lacks any weight. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

I frown freely, “Kaz--” 

“You look tired,” he mumbles, “You need rest.” He’s using this as an excuse to escape his feelings, but he’s already given me more than I expected. Greed ruins things, but then again, so does selflessness. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“For the job?”

Something strange crosses his features as his expression teeters on shifting. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he repeats, a little more certain.

The response doesn’t satiate me. “Kaz--” 

“I may not be the rain, but I’m capable of making promises as well.” There’s something final about the way he says this, but it doesn’t feel cruel. 

Maybe I’d protest if my eyelids were less weighted. “Goodnight, Kaz.” 

My head falls against the pillow. I’m not sure if he replies, too lost in the drawl of sleep before he can even close the door. 

--

General taglist: @theincredibledeadlyviper, @grishaverse7 @benbarnes-supremacy  @tranquilitymoon @kaitlyn2907 @lunamyangel @christinawxxx @deceivedeer @real-mbappe @tonks33

[hasarjunadoneanythingwrong]

The way everyone is so friendly with Karna and not Arjuna is weird to me because lore-wise wasn't it Arjuna who was loved by everyone and Karna everyone was weary of cause he was this weird piebald burnt guy who was always being rude? (I know he didn't mean it it was just no social skills but still he's known for saying things people aren't happy to hear! It's literally a skill!)

yeah its definitely strange. especially because arjuna's whole 'dark side' thing is meant to be...more of a secret? like in his bond profile it mentions he loved his brothers, parents, and people and was loved in return, 'and yet...' which implies that a lot of his problems were something that he did/does his best to conceal from others. so like why do so many of his interactions have this undercurrent of hostility from the other side? like do they know? like he's definitely standoffish, don't get me wrong, but that doesn't explain why other servants don't seem to like him. i feel like i read somewhere that masters can find his personality to be tension inducing despite how passive and butler-like he can be, but i can't find it now, although im sure some of that is due to his reticence to being understood.

AT THE SAME TIME

he's literally never followed through with this stated declaration of killing people who have seen his true face?

we've seen him with two masters- hakuno and ritsuka, and while he sort of just keeps hakuno at arms length the entire time ritsuka basically sees everything and he literally is just like ':( sorry you had to see that' and they work it out. like for as much as they keep harping on about how he'd kill someone who'd try to find out his true nature or DID find out his true nature he's never even threatened us. like. its a defense mechanism.

and then in comparison we have karna, who is SUPPOSED to suffer from foot-in-mouth syndrome, but someone who's supposed to be this sarcastic, snippy warrior who while having people's best interests at heart isn't usually able to express that and usually creates more misunderstandings than he can clear up doesnt often DO that...like why couldn't we have gotten an interlude where we cleared up some issue that he created by accident and couldn't figure out what went wrong? why can't we have him be a bitch now and then? and why does EVERYONE sans arjuna like him, there should be SOME people who are at the very least more hooked up on etiquette or something who feel like he insulted them or something, or are just 'eh' about him. at the very least it seems very strange to tell us arjuna is loved more than karna and then show us the complete opposite.

and ik that some people have said the nezha line is like, they admire arjuna but it really feels like it could go either way? i can see why you'd say that but when you see what they say for karna in comparison it feels much less starstruck. arjuna makes them nervous and they feel (sympathy most likely) for karna like.... :/ ok well why dont u go marry him then.

scathach's comment in e pluribus unum is something else i wanted to bring up and am using this as an excuse to, bc i saw someone mention it was probably more a combination of her teacherly tendencies+ the fact his heart wasn't in what he was doing in america, and I do actually agree with that! its just...we don't ever really get anything to refute her/show IN TEXT that that's what's going on. he does destroy 29 demon pillars at once (SEXY AS HELL I MIGHT ADD) but that's with pashupata, and scahatch is built up as this incredibly big badass who's basically the top dog when it comes to fighting, and her comment does come off as a bit... eh... dismissive? of a guy who's supposed to be one of the best archers in the world? who's been practicing archery since he was a small child? at the very least it would've been nice if we'd gotten a scene later where she DID acknowledge him once he left the celtic side, but i guess that would've been asking too much

TLDR: give me the aeaean sea event NOW dw i want arjuna friend time

[intoomanyfandomstocount]

Bro there’s something so precious about Malleus and Yuu’s friendship that I think I can finally put into words now. (And it’s not just me projecting I swear hear me out.)

Almost every single interaction Yuu/Mc has with Malleus, has been when Yuu was vulnerable in some way. (At the time I’m writing this, episode 5 has been out for a while.) ep 5 spoilers!! (And the other chapters lol)

So their first meeting. In episode 2. Yuu just spent the day searching for the culprit behind the injuries to no avail. Not only that, they and their buddies got their asses handed to them I. Magift. They take a breather outside, feeling tired from the long day. They’re even pondering about whether or not they’ll be getting home. (It’s one of the dialogue options.)

And then boom, Malleus appears. He doesn’t do anything Expect be like, “crap my abandoned building’s no longer abandoned :(” but he does manage to distract Yuu from their thoughts, albeit unintentionally. Still, it was a strange encounter, which leaves Yuu curious for more.

Despite Ramshackle dorm technically no longer being abandoned, Malleus still visits it again in episode 3. Here, Yuu is even more vulnerable. They are completely alone, worried that they might become homeless because of their deal with Azul. Malleus appears. Yuu calls him by his strange nickname and Malleus laughs. Never expecting anyone to call him that. He asks Yuu what’s wrong. Yuu explains and he listens.

Malleus is worried, although I feel at this point is mainly more because he likes his abandoned buildings. He talks about gargoyles with Yuu. He originally didn’t have any other intentions other than he just liked talking about them. However, once again he managed to distract Yuu from falling to deep into their negative thoughts and unintentionally gave them advice.

After they get the dorm back, Yuu thanks Malleus for the advice, and Malleus is surprised because he never intended it to be advice. He’s surprised this little human managed to outsmart Azul, and is also surprised that he was helpful to them. I think this was the moment that Malleus started to see Yuu as his friend.

At the end of episode 4, he gives us a holiday card. Yuu isn’t vulnerable in this situation, however this was the only gift that they received over the holidays. (Unless you count crowleys feast). He signed the card M.D. He wants to get closer to Yuu, little by little. A part of him probably likes the secrecy of someone not even knowing who his true identity is. But he also wants to be closer with them.

And then episode 5, some of the best malleus x Yuu content we have rn. First off, again with the Malleus appears right when Yuu is about to spiral into negative/confusing thoughts. Before, Yuu was in their room, thinking about Mickey and the mirror. Maybe not negative, but certainly vulnerable to me. They look out the window and see small green lights that looks like fireflies. And they know. They simply know who it is and their first reaction is to go outside to see him.

At this point, Yuu and Malleus see each other as friends. Their presence is enough to cheer the other up (ik its hard to know yuus emotions but do you go out to see someone you hate in the cold of night? No) Malleus smiles when he sees Yuu. Yuu then gives Malleus the VDC ticket and asks if he would go with them.

This moment is huge. Mainly for Malleus. Yuu is one of the very few, if not only people who don’t treat him any different because of his title as prince. And even so, they’re probably the only person Malleus and consider an equal. He has Silver, Sebek and Lilia, and he definitely cares about them. By those relationships have a power dynamic of sorts. With Silver and Sebek serving Malleus, and with Lilia being a parental figure to Malleus. Yuu and Malleus doesn’t have any power dynamic, they are both equals when they are together.

And of course, Malleus barely gets invited to events such as these because everyone’s so intimidated by him. (For good reason but still.) Not to mention that he grew up isolated (see his Birthday SSR) and has grown used to being alone. And yet here is this human, fearlessly inviting him to a concert as a friend. He even asks if they’re performing and is disappointed when he finds out that they’re just the manager. I just find that cute.

And the next day, Lilia comes to Yuu to thank them for inviting them, because of how happy Malleus was. Just...imagine Malleus arriving at the dorms late, holding the VDC ticket in his hand. Sebek probably stayed up late to wait for him and began to scold him, you know Sebek being Sebek. And Malleus just calmly apologizes and goes to his room and Sebek is confusion because Malleus usually is like “you don’t need to complain sm about me, I’m fine” (it’s hard to describe it. He’s not bratty he just wants Sebek to chill lol) but Lilia sees this and noticed the ticket in Malleus’s hand and is like “ho ho ho” like the far dad he is.

That strayed into headcanon/fic territory I’m so sorry.

Anyways, back to canon. Malleus arriving at the VDC stage after the overblot fight. Again, Yuu is vulnerable in some way. In this way, they’re most likely tired from fighting ANOTHER overblot. And then they see Malleus, who arrived two hours earlier, probably bc they really wanted to see Yuu, and they’re so happy! And we know this bc one of the dialogue options is simply “Tsunotaro!” So we know that Yuu was definitely walking up to Malleus with a smile on their face without a care in the world. (And freaking everyone else)

Malleus and Yuu seem to have this ability to rid the presence of any negativity when they’re together. Their presence is enough to sooth each other. Not to mention that even after (finally) realizing Malleus’s true identity, they’re reaction was basically, “holy crap are you serious? Ok.” They are as chill as always.

Yuu is even worried that Malleus wouldn’t want them calling him by his nickname anymore (one of the dialogue options is “am I not allowed to call you Tsunotaro anymore?” But Malleus simply smiles and says “no it’s fine.”

It’s just...the fact that Malleus was most likely worried that Yuu would change the way they acted around Malleus, and that worried just went “poof” in a matter of seconds...it’s just so pure man.

Malleus and Yuu’s relationship really feels like two inexperienced people finding solace and discovering friendship with one another and the beauty that brings. Of course Yuu doesn’t really have a backstory (as they’re mainly there for the player to insert themselves in) and they have Ace, Deuce and friends that they definitely care about. However, this world is still new to them, and their relationships with Ace, Deuce and the other characters are also growing. And with Malleus, well, he’s completely new to friendship like this, and is still learning. He may be hundreds of years old, but he’s still considered a teenager in fae years. (Species age differently, like what that droid said in The Mandolorian)

In conclusion, whether you ship it platonically or romantically or you’re like Leona and hate Malleus’s guts, I want what Malleus and Yuu have. And I am both excited and terrified for what the future brings them.

[daisybeewrites]

Academy Blues

oh, deer

word count: 2.8k

warnings: none for this chapter, vague foreshadowing

ship: dousy (daisy johnson x daniel sousa), background Fitzsimmons and Philinda

heyyyyy…. yes i posted it early on Ao3

howeverrr you guys are gonna like this chapter. i just feel it in my bones (bc its fluffy and the angst starts kicking in in the next one)

“You look like Rudolph, Daisy,” Elena greeted.

Daisy took a large swig of coffee, rolling her eyes but smirking. The pair were walking together to Elena’s first class after a tough early-morning spar.

“You’re the one who punched me where I already had a bruise,” Daisy shot back.

“Hey, I already told you I was aiming for the jaw. It’s not my fault you didn’t duck quick enough.”

They laughed as Elena swiped her key card to the comms building. Daisy held the door for Elena, shoving her lightly in the back as she passed.

“Hey!”

“Not my fault you can’t see backwards,” Daisy teased.

It was Elena’s turn to roll her eyes and laugh, slowing to a stop outside May’s lecture room.

“Right. Wish me luck, I heard May was giving a pop quiz today,” Elena grimaced.

“You don’t need any luck. I’ll see ya, Elena,” Daisy replied.

“Yeah, you will!” Elena said, backing into May’s large lecture room.

Daisy watched her wave and sit down with a group of third-years, her perfect french braids swishing behind her, before turning around. Daisy didn’t have a moment to think about where she was going before she ran into a solid wall.

Daisy looked up into a pair of dark chocolate eyes, crinkled at the edges with a small smile. The wall’s hair was ruffled, as if he had just gotten out of bed. He wore black SHIELD sweats and a white t-shirt. The wall was very attractive. She vaguely registered the smattering of books on the ground, her mind more focused on his hands on her shoulders.

“Daisy, are you okay?”

She must have been staring for too long. “Yeah, I’m good! Great! Sorry, Sousa,” she apologized, quickly bending over to pick up his books. She almost dropped them again when his hand brushed hers while she handed the thick textbooks back. She gave him a quick smile, taking a deep breath to compose herself, reciting her affirmations. I am Daisy Johnson. I am an Agent of SHIELD. I can move the Earth. I am powerful. I am in control of myself.

Daniel’s smile grew a bit when he heard Daisy laughing quietly to herself.

“I guess you could say I really swept you off your feet.”

Daniel chuckled at the quip, his hands still on her shoulders. “Yeah. Foot,” Daniel corrected. Daisy furrowed her brows, but ignored the strange comment.

“Right. Well, the bell—” Daisy was cut off by a long, high-pitched bell. She closed her eyes tight, the blaring alarm causing tiny vibrations to travel through her skull. When she opened them, Daniel was still standing in front of her, white tee and black sweats and messy morning hair encouraging just a bit more flirting before he had to leave.

“Wow, look at you. Late! I’m a bad influence on you, Danny.”

Daniel shrugged, glancing at his watch. “S’not the first time,” he murmured lowly, stepping away and giving her a last look before he disappeared into the classroom.

Daisy pretended not to notice her heart rate had risen from it’s usual sixty beats-per-minute to seventy-six beats-per-minute.

Daisy spent the rest of the day absentmindedly completing work in her classes. For some reason, flirting with Daniel felt… different than it had with her exes. Even her exes in SHIELD. Daniel was grounded. He had a calm presence. Being late didn’t phase him in the slightest; Daisy would have internally berated herself for the rest of the day.

She was finishing a short answer assignment from International Law and SHIELD Policy while stretching on the outdoor training grounds when she saw him again: still in sweats despite the heat. He was still walking with same, familiar limp. Then it clicked—’Foot’; the throwaway comment from earlier made much more sense now. He had a prosthetic. Before she could think anymore about that revelation, May called the Ops trainees to gather around her under a giant maple tree. Daisy was the last to get up, hanging towards the back as usual.

“Ops training, eh?”

Sousa turned to Daisy standing beside him, breaking his focus on May to turn to her. “Yeah. I used to be military, remember? 28th Infantry Recon Scout. I figure I’ve got to get at least near the level I used to be before I can go in the field.”

Daisy nodded, her hair caught in a slight breeze. “As long as you don’t steal my crown as the Queen of Spar, Master of Field Ops Physical Training.”

Daniel chuckled quietly, turning his attention back to May, who was explaining today’s exercises.

“Partners,” Daisy breathed. Daisy hated partners, unless it was May. She’d rather condition. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the other trainees, they were great people! But her nerves got the better of her and she ended up holding back, not helping herself or her partner. She knew how to control her powers, how to keep herself from using them while sparring. Whispers of doubt and guilt still invaded, fogging her mind like deadly mist.

You could kill them. It’s happened before…

She was taken back to the moment by Daniel tapping her shoulder. “Partners?”

Daisy reluctantly nodded and motioned to him to follow her over to a thick pad of grass next to a small willow tree.

“So, what exactly are we supposed to be doing? It’s Tuesday, which is usually a mix of breathing and nerve control and focusing on technique, rather than strength.”

Daniel glanced over at the other partners, who were all going through defensive and offensive stances slowly, like tai chi, he thought.

Daisy walked closer to where he had stopped beside the willow, pointing out a pair of partners moving almost in sync.

“They’re focusing on how their breathing can help their fighting. Mentally and physically. If you’re nervous, your heart rate spikes, your brain goes fuzzy and then your body gets sloppy. If you aren’t breathing, your heart rate spikes, your brain goes fuzzy and your body gets sloppy. Breath can make a punch more powerful and a kick more accurate, if you know how to use it. I’ll show you the moves.”

Defensive, offensive, block, strike, block, kick. Daisy continued in a cycle until Sousa could mirror her movements with little effort.

Daisy stopped him then. “Great! You’re a quick learner,” She winked, smiling wide.

Daniel smiled back, “So how do I do the breathing thing?”

Daisy pondered how to explain it for a second. “You have to flow, like water. You control your breathing, you have the power. But at the same time, you have to let the air flow naturally. The moves will align with your breath, don’t force it.”

Daniel nodded, and they were off. It took a minute to get into the groove, but once he did, it felt effortless. Every kick, block, inhale and turn, exhale and strike came naturally. It gave him the opportunity to study Daisy.

Usually, especially in the early mornings in the computer lab, Daisy looked tired. Her brows were drawn slightly, fingers fidgeting, knee bouncing. In the halls she walked briskly and adjusted her bag or checked her watch often, a small tic she didn’t seem to notice. Right now, though, breeze across her olive skin, Daisy looked cool as water.

She felt the earth beneath her. The trees and grass and flowers in the wind. She tuned in to the radio of her surroundings, letting her muscle memory guide her. The forest was really loud. The concrete buildings had a sort of buzz, too. They mixed in her bones like the sounds of a great symphony, low rumbles and high-pitched chittering and long, constant notes that provided a harmony to the undulating melody. The frequencies of each living and non-living thing in the area seemed to be flowing around her, steady.

Daniel softly stared at her as she moved through the flow with him. She was very good at this. He was having a bit of trouble, though he doubted he would be having this much trouble if it wasn't Daisy right in front of him. For an exercise designed to relax them, wasn’t it counterintuitive to partner with the girl that made his heart skip a beat when she smiled?

When May clapped her hands and signaled the end of the session, the tired, sweaty kids gathered around May’s oak tree. The sun was beginning to dip towards the horizon, bringing a glow to each of their faces. Daisy looked radiant.

“Class is dismissed. Tomorrow, we’re conditioning,” May warned. In a quieter voice, May called, “Daisy, can you hang for a second?”

Daisy stepped away from her bag and towards May. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, everything’s fine. I have a question for you. Would you mind giving up your free period three times a week?”

Daisy’s eyebrows raised, no classes that she knew of only took place three times a week. “I want to say yes, but I’d also like to know why?”

“Fair. Top brass called. If you want to be a field agent with powers, you’ve got to practice fighting with them, get comfortable with them. I know everything that happened with Lincoln…” May paused, gauging Daisy’s reaction. When there wasn’t any, May continued. “Your powers didn’t make you an agent, I did.”

May paused, giving Daisy a chance to settle her thoughts before adding, “But I think this is important.”

Daisy slowly nodded. If this was important to May, then Daisy had no problems giving up her free period.

“Who will I train with?” she asked.

May smiled. “Meet Yo-Yo and I behind the garage at seven sharp tomorrow morning.΅

Daisy saluted playfully, wandering to her bag and walking in the direction the other students had gone. She could see them filtering into the cafeteria. A smoothie sounded nice…

The canteen was full of students grabbing plates of chicken and veggie tacos. Daisy was always happy during dinner on taco Tuesday. She grabbed her plate and a small green juice and searched for a familiar pair of heads, warm brown eyes and freckles sitting next to dirty blonde curls.

As she approached, two hands went up, waving. Weaving her way through students, she saw Fitz pat the seat beside him.

“Oi, Dais! I've got something to show you!”

Daisy sat down, her attention drawn to the tiny device on the table in front of her. It was small enough to fit in her hand, but surprisingly heavy for its size. Multiple coloured wires stuck out from various surfaces. Fitz was grinning at her with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. He pressed a button on a small remote that sat on the table. Daisy looked over at Jemma, puzzled. Was something supposed to be happening?

Daisy glanced down at her hand. There was nothing there but a constant weight.

“Fitz! You replicated cloaking!”

Jemma and Fitz immediately shushed her, looking around. “He wasn’t supposed to! It’s above his ‘level’. Professor Weaver practically forbid him.”

Daisy’s eyes widened. This was very Fitz. Tell him he can’t, and he will, just to prove it to himself. Holding it up to eye level and moving it around, Daisy marveled at the seamless invisibility. “What are you gonna do with it?”

Fitz shrugged. He began to explain a number of uses for the device, along with the technical modifications he’d have to make for them to work. She tuned out after Jemma exasperatedly told him they couldn’t train monkeys to be invisible recon scouts.

Her plan to learn something from Fitzsimmons banter was derailed when Daisy noticed a shadow at the corner of her eye. It slipped away as quickly as it came, around the corner of the cafeteria and out of sight.

Why was she getting déjà vu?

“Dais, you alright there?” Fitz asked quietly.

Daisy turned back to him, smiling. “Yeah, I thought I saw something. Probably just tired.”

The sandy blonde boy laughed, “S’only Tuesday, Dais. We’ve got a whole week ahead of us!”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. I’ve got six tests this week!” Simmons countered.

Daisy’s mouth opened in surprise, quickly shut when Fitz made a comment about catching flies. “Wait, so you aren’t excited for the tests?”

Jemma shook her head miserably, her amber eyes rolling. “No. Usually I would be, it’s so odd! But I was studying the other night and reviewing old tests, and my chest felt so heavy and my head started spinning—”

Fitz stopped her by putting his hand over hers, gently reassuring her. Watching the two, Daisy thought her heart might burst, a bubbly feeling rising in her chest.

Jemma turned back to her, considerably less distressed.

“Do you want some help studying?” Daisy offered.

Jemma nodded. “Tonight, 8, the rooftop?”

The group nodded.

At eight o’clock, Daisy carefully climbed out her window and around the corner to the fire escape. The stairs whispered and creaked with the wind, but you would never know anyone was climbing the iron to the roof unless you ran directly into her.

She arrived at the last landing, one floor above her own, and crouched down. She jumped, using small quakes as a make-shift propulsor. Jemma turned her head towards the soft thump of Daisy landing on the roof.

The space was decorated with a jungle of potted plants and fairy lights strung around the ledge, mix-matched multicoloured and shades of white. They cast a warm glow across the spread of notes and textbooks neatly placed in front of Jemma. Daisy approached, pulling out her laptop and a pouch of pens, pencils, highlighters, and white-out.

“Ready for our study date?”

Jemma smiled. “Yes. Fitz should be here any minute.”

The two girls got comfortable, beginning to go over notes and chat idly. Daisy wrote down vocab and key ideas on note cards and organised them by subject. Jemma laughed loudly when Daisy expressed her confusion at the difference between the three biochemistries that she was taking. Suddenly, loud clanging was heard from the side of the building.

“Daisy! Jems!”

The two girls shared a glance at the panicked voice. Fitz.

They rushed over to where he would be coming onto the iron landing, grabbing his hand and helping him over the concrete barrier onto the roof.

Fitz supported himself on his knees, panting. “There's a guy down there. Creepy bastard.”

Jemma and Daisy shared another glance, this one full of concern and trepidation.

Fitz pointed to Daisy. “Askin’ about you, Dais. Your…” Fitz trailed off, drawing waves in the air with his hand.

Jemma rested a hand on Daisy’s shoulder, squeezing slightly. “Go check it out, we’ll be here when you get back.”

Daisy reluctantly jumped onto the metal landing below, resisting the urge to use her powers to cushion her landing. She quickly checked the perimeter of the dorm, then wandered closer to the forest that backed up to the dorms.

If only she had night vision as well as the power to create earthquakes.

A subtle movement caught her eye, a dark silhouette shifting in between the trees. A haze of clouds covered the moon, making the forest darker than usual. Daisy stepped forward slowly, her breath speeding up.

The air seemed electric, the few clouds in the sky bloodred with the remaining rays of sunset. The tall pines and thick oaks were silhouetted black against the sky, branches seeming to reach out to grab the twilight shadows. Daisy threw a quick glance over her shoulder, letting out a relieved exhale when she saw Fitz and Jemma watching over her from the roof.

A twig snapped right in front of Daisy, the treeline only twenty feet away. Daisy felt the echo bounce around the forest. She took a deep breath, steadying her hands and lungs. Something, someone, was right on the other side of those bushes…

“AAGH!”

A deer leapt out of the brush, landing right in front of her. Its large doe eyes stared at her, ears back. It was just a fawn.

Daisy slowly let out a sigh of relief, dropping her arms from where they had come up in front of her. She snorted.

“You’re just a baby. What are you doing in the bushes by yourself?”

Daisy tentatively reached out, the fawn showed no signs of moving. She opened her palm, letting the deer sniff before it bounded away across the field.

Daisy sighed. She felt something was off, like you would the moment before you were struck by lightning. Like any second, something else would pop out of the forest, this time a real threat…

Silence.

Stillness.

Daisy sighed, shaking her head and rubbing her eyes. I just need sleep. If the paranoia has set in, I definitely need sleep.

Daisy headed back to the dorms, the feeling of eyes on her following until she was safely on the roof with her friends.

The twinkling fairy lights lit the rest of their evening, shadows and deer forgotten in the warmth of laughs and starlight.

[cafeinthemoon]

The Senju brothers finding out their little sister is going out with Madara 💥

Lately I’ve been into family drama and such, so when anon requested this I couldn’t say no lol Btw thank you, anon, for this scandalous incredible idea 😘

In this scenario/list/idk we have the Senju brothers finding out their younger sister and Madara are seeing each other. As you might expect, the news provoke different reactions in each of them, but the main point is how she will deal with this situation.

So I’m gonna shut up now and leave you with this:

Fandom: Naruto | Senju Brothers

Warnings: none, just a heated argument and a looong list ahead

Symbols: 💙 | ◻ | ▶▶

Hashirama

Being Hashirama and Tobirama’s younger sister, of course you and Madara were known to each other, but being more than just a friend to him wasn’t in your plans… until now 😳

You used to admire and respect each other, not only because of the alliance between your clans, but mostly because you both were worthy being praised. Plus Hashirama has always been talkative about his best friend’s qualities, which slowly transformed the way you saw the Uchiha leader, but you only noticed this a few weeks ago

During a meeting/party/whatever at your brother’s house, Madara and you spent more time than usual talking to each other. Turned out that you discovered many things in common beyond the fact that you two were shinobi, including your views on life, politics, etc.

If Hashi noticed something, you couldn’t tell, but it was strange that during all the time you were there together he didn’t come to join you (not that you complained about it)

You and the Uchiha saw each other a few times on the next days, and the feeling of familiarity between you only grew. You weren't sure of how to call it. You were fond of each other, but saying that you were just friends didn’t seem to be enough now

You both agreed that it was too soon to name it as a date or something, so you didn't tell anyone, not even your brothers

You wanted to be sure of your own feelings before making a statement. Were you still friends? Were you really in love? Was it just a crush, a superficial attraction? You wanted to understand what was going on

During this time, Hashirama didn’t make a comment or anything that suggested that he was aware of this situation, so you were a bit surprised when one day, he came to talk to you about it

“So you and Madara are engaging in a secret romance and you dared leaving your big brother out of this, y/n? Where did you learn such behavior?!”

“Don’t you really know?”, you smirked

“Excuse me?!”

“Am I the first person in this family to keep secrets that involve Madara, Hashi?” 😑

THE REDNESS ON HIS CHEEKS WAS PRICELESS LMAO

Hashirama was your elder brother aka the person who has been taking care of you since your parents left this world, so not only his worries were valid, but he also had the right to know, so yeah, he was a bit disappointed that you didn't tell him first

Now, I think his feelings about this were not as plain as some can imagine. In fact, he had a mixture of contradicting feelings and ended up talking about them more than demanding an explanation from you

On one hand, he was happy because he loves you both, so finding out that his little sis and his soul brother might have started a relationship was exciting 💖

On the other hand, he was worried because you were even younger than Tobirama, while Madara was not only older but more experienced than you and he knew his friend’s flaws better than anyone else

However, Hashi was an understanding person and was willing to listen, so you explained your feelings and your reasons to him, as well as part of your conversations with Madara, pointing out that making things this way was a mutual decision, for the best of you two and the people you knew

He pointed out that despite not calling your meetings a date, you two were already thinking as a couple 😏

You blushed and asked him to keep quiet, at least for a while

He promised you he would not say anything, but not before hugging you tight and crying about how his lil sis was growing up so fast saying how much he was happy for you two 💓

Tobirama

Prepare yourself to get your ass smacked and burning for an entire week lmao

Okay, so as you can easily imagine, it didn’t take much effort from Tobirama to find out that something was going on between you and Madara

It wasn’t that you two were reckless, it was just that your second brother was not stupid an observing man (and tbh how hard it must be to keep a secret from a smart sensor shinobi, uh?)

Unlike Hashirama, who took some time to connect the dots, he noticed small changes in your routine and behavior since the start

Why have you been so quiet, distracted lately? What has been occupying your mind? You were spending more time alone and/or out, and (yeah, he noticed that) you weve more concerned about your looks and manners than usual. Of course you were up to something 

Besides, you’ve suddenly became too defensive towards Madara and the Uchihas in general. Anything Tobirama said that sounded slightly negative about them was promptly refuted by you. You seemed to have a deeper understanding of their ideologies now, as if you were having long conversations with their leader

So, it was with no surprise that you saw the storm coming ⚡

One day, Tobirama came to your room without warning and just by looking at him you knew he figured it out 

How did he find out? Hashirama and his big mouth, probably. Or did he follow you and saw you two together? Well, he could have simply traced your chakra and once he sensed Madara’s close to you, the riddle was solved. But did it matter now?

His first words: “What is it?”

You don't need an explanation: you little sis + Madara Uchiha problem™ + maintaining your privacy keeping secrets from him

And now you were a brat possessed with the Uchiha evil, and not just with any Uchiha evil but with MADARA’S Uchiha evil 🔥🔥🔥

There was no way for you to have a normal conversation in the current circumstances. You had a heated argument, and I’m sure you’re capable of imagining what it means to have a heated argument with Tobirama

“Tobi, listen to me, I-”

“No YOU listen to me you brat possessed with the Uchiha evil”

Your brother didn’t even let you speak. He stated that not telling anything to your elder brother was not only wrong, but some sort of betrayal, then started remembering serious sh*t from the past when you were so young that you couldn’t even carry a sword the right way and everything you’ve already heard from him countless times before

But now you were done with his incapacity of simply listen, so you just stated that your elder brother Hashirama already knew it and that it was you who asked him to keep it a secret just for a while

“Hashirama is our leader, and if he knows and approves it, that’s enough for me and that should be enough for you too!”

“Hashirama is too soft with you, and this is why you behave like this!”

“Like this how? Living my life without asking for your permission? Is that what you mean?”

“Being unnecessarily connected with a man with whom we need to be careful in our treats, that’s what I mean. Our elder brother purposely ignores the fragile spots of this alliance and you know it, so there’s no excuse for your attitude!”

“Speaking like this about our ally could be considered some sort of betrayal, Tobi. If I was you, I would be careful!”

“Why? Are you going to tell him in your next date?”

“GET OUT OF MY ROOM!”

“Yes, I’m getting out and having a serious conversation with our brother about this!”

“Tobirama, the war is over! We all have to move on, whether you like it or not! So instead of wasting your time with something that’s none of your business, you should go and live your life as well!”

Yes, you lost your temper, and you only realized it when your brother fell silent and lowered his tone

“You are right, lilttle sister. But let me tell you something. My way to show that I care about you might not resemble Hashirama’s, but my feelings towards you are not less deep than his”

You were heartbroken after he left, yes, but you had to stand your ground. Tobi could be very controlling if he was given space to, so you had to learn to deal with this early in your life. In this point you were better than Hashi, who was too easygoing for his own good, so you felt like you had to be strong on your resistance for both of you, otherwise Tobirama would dominate every aspect of your life without even realizing. You loved him as well, but your decisions didn’t have to always gravitate towards him

Still, you weren’t proud of your words about the war. That was a sensitive matter for Tobi. Despite his silence about it, you sensed he was offended. You knew you went too far 💔

The conclusion

Later, Hashirama came to mediate the conflict, and he had some words for both of you. When Tobirama and you found ourselves in the same room, you were about to start a new argument, but your eldest brother elevated his chakra and demanded you to be silent, bc now it was his time to speak

“Brother, I understand you are worried about our sister and I am sure she acknowledges your efforts to protect and guide her, but that doesn’t give you the right to interfere in her decisions regarding her own life. She’s right to remind you about our alliance with the Uchiha clan and to say that we need to move on. If moving on means starting a relationship with Madara in her case, things are what they are. It is her life, not yours. And do not think I haven’t talk to her about this. Y/n is no longer a child, Tobirama. She’s aware of the challenges of maintaining such connection with the Uchiha leader”

“Little sister, I understand that our brother’s way to express his worries uses to irritate you. It happened many times when you two were little. But that doesn’t invalidate the honesty of his intentions. He loves you and cares about you as much as I do. Besides, I’ve already talked to you about thoughtless mentions of the war. That was a though period for all of us, which includes your brother. You were not with us at the battlefield, that’s true, but you weren’t immune to the dark consequences of what happened at it. You mourned our siblings with us, but you were too young to understand everything that was involved. That was not Tobirama’s case. He doesn’t talk about it, but he has his reasons for that, and this must be respected”

Hashirama left you two hoping you would be capable of getting along again, which eventually happened, but at its own pace

The next day you found Tobirama working at his desk. He already acknowledged your presence, but that didn’t discourage you. You hugged him from behind and said you were going out to the river, and he could come with you if he wanted to fish. His first response was a groan

“Is there more people coming with us?” = “Is there any possibility of Madara showing up?”

You kissed his bristly hair

“No. Just us. I promise. And when we get back, I’ll cook fish for you”

Your brother’s next groan meant many things at once, “I agree”, “Thank you” and “I apologize” being some of them 😜

[xiaomomowrites]

midas touch

Genshin Impact | ZhongChi

Summary: Sometimes, in moments where Zhongli finds himself surrendering to the harmonic bliss that surrounds him, he’ll allow himself to lose control over his mortal form and let some of his draconic features shine through. Some days his horns will make an appearance, and other times his scales will begin to blossom across what once was human skin. Tonight, his horns make themselves present, and his eyes have shifted, too.

“Can I…” Ajax starts tentatively. His eyes are blown so wide, and they glimmer with curiosity and a silent joy that is akin to a child being gifted sweets. Zhongli chuckles, nodding his head in silent affirmation. 

The pads of Ajax’s fingers hesitantly make contact with the horns stemming from the crown of his head. They’re beautiful; they glow as if they’re dipped in melted mora, pulsing brightly and casting a dim light across Ajax’s pale skin. They’re quite long, and Ajax gently trails his index finger along the curve of a horn. They don’t stick straight up, though. Instead, it bows backwards charmingly until it tapers off midway toward the back of Zhongli’s head.

Beautiful.

Or, Zhongli discovers something new about his powers and gladly takes advantage of it.

Find it on Ao3!

A/N: Soo the thought process behind this fic was inspired by three different pieces of chili fanart I found on twitter (I'll link it in the end notes) and the concept that my mutual put in my head of Zhongli turning Childe's skin to gold whenever he touches him. My mutual is a genius. And uhhh initially I didn't expect this to turn explicit, but I just started typing and then suddenly they were going at it lol. But writing them super soft and cute is always such a pleasure, I hope you enjoy this as much as I did :)

But this was so fun to write! Definitely a good break from act vi bc damn that piece just doesn't want to be written right now. I have a collab with miss stereotypicallyasian on the way as well, a Naruto x Genshin crossover that I should be posting sometime toward the end of the week!

--

As soon as he wakes up, Zhongli finds his breath stuttering with a noticeable hollowness in his chest that he cannot quite describe. 

Briefly, he supposes it is merely the effect of his gnosis being taken. But even with the core of his divinity gone, there still remains a vibrant energy coursing through his veins that buzzes with a level of excitement. It’s a nagging feeling, but it is the very thing that keeps him awake at night. Zhongli exhales, nice and slow, and allows the back of his head to press against the pillows he had propped up against the table. His hair is free from its usual hold and it spills across his shoulders in ribbons of black and gold. 

He stretches his legs across the blankets he’s laid beneath him and wiggles his toes, flexes his fingers, twitches his nose. The wind around him responds in kind. Warm Liyuan air wafts through the room at the inn as the sun begins to set, casting an orange glow across the walls. Zhongli feels himself sink into the floor, melting into the plush pillows, and revels in the way he is being held down firmly by the weight in his lap that belongs to his beloved.

He’s been tired these days. 

Only a week had passed after the incident with Osial and his official retirement as the Archon of Geo. Adjusting so far has been strange, and eerily enough, rather easy. Despite the new creaking in his joints and the mild back pain he never quite felt until now, he’s become rather fond of the quaint life he subconsciously built while he was living amongst his people. 

And, well, Ajax’s presence made adjusting rather painless. The Harbinger staying by his side somehow made it easier to to cope with the gaping void in his chest.

Speaking of which, Ajax makes himself known by rolling over and shuffling closer, burying his face in his abdomen. The ex-Archon cracks an eye open and looks down at the smattering of red hair against his stomach. He can’t help but smile at the sight. 

“Ajax,” he calls, voice a deep rumble from his temporary slumber, “it’s getting late. If you continue napping, you’ll have a hard time sleeping tonight.”

He’s answered with unintelligible mumbling, and the vibrations of Ajax’s voice tickles his stomach.

“What?” He breathes out a laugh. 

“Xiansheng I don’t want to get uppp,” Ajax whines as he props his chin against Zhongli’s stomach. He wriggles closer, moving up higher in his lap until his face is pressed up against his chest. Zhongli cradles the back of his head lovingly, and softly runs a bare hand through ginger locks. 

“You must, baobei,” Zhongli tugs on his hair gently, “also because I am getting quite hungry.”

Ajax makes a noise of indignance against him. The ginger looks up, ready to protest, but abruptly halts. 

His eyes widened comically. Ajax stares at him like he had grown a second head, cerulean eyes tracing his every feature as if this was his first time ever seeing him. Any noise or complaint of being woken up dies on his lips as he’s suddenly speechless, any and all vocabulary suddenly void. 

Zhongli’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Is everything okay?” 

“Xiansheng, you’re…” the ginger trails off breathlessly, “by the Gods, you’re beautiful.”

Zhongli sputters. “Well, I am flattered, truly, but--”

“Zhongli,” Ajax all but hisses. He brings a deft finger up to Zhongli’s hair, but doesn’t quite stop at his fringe. He reaches up, up, up and--

Ah. 

Zhongli knows where this is going. This isn’t the first time this has happened. 

Sometimes, in moments where Zhongli finds himself surrendering to the harmonic bliss that surrounds him, he’ll allow himself to lose control over his mortal form and let some of his draconic features shine through. Some days his horns will make an appearance, and other times his scales will begin to blossom across what once was human skin. Tonight, his horns make themselves present, and his eyes have shifted, too.

“Can I…” Ajax starts tentatively. His eyes are blown so wide, and they glimmer with curiosity and a silent joy that is akin to a child being gifted sweets. Zhongli chuckles, nodding his head in silent affirmation. 

The pads of Ajax’s fingers hesitantly make contact with the horns stemming from the crown of his head. They’re beautiful; they glow as if they’re dipped in melted mora, pulsing brightly and casting a dim light across Ajax’s pale skin. They’re quite long, and Ajax gently trails his index finger along the curve of a horn. They don’t stick straight up, though. Instead, it bows backwards charmingly until it tapers off midway toward the back of Zhongli’s head.

Beautiful.

“You’re…” he breathes, “I’ve never seen…”

“It has been a long time since I last let myself truly relax into this form.” 

Ajax’s eyes flicker back down to his face as Zhongli’s voice snaps him out of his reverie. He’s met with eyes glowing bright as cor lapis, pupils almost narrowed into slits, and a few stray ebony scales. 

“Woah…”

Once again with the curiosity of a child, Ajax reaches out to poke at the scales blooming across Zhongli’s skin. The ex-Archon tuts. 

“My apologies, I was not aware that this much of me was visible—“

“Why are you apologizing?” Ajax demands, eyes darting up to his horns once more before locking onto his golden ones. “You’re beautiful, Xiansheng. I had no idea you could even do this.”

“Frankly, I am surprised, too,” Zhongli speaks honestly. Ajax looks at him, stunned. “I didn’t think this could happen without my gnosis. But life has been full of surprises lately, it seems.”

“What else could you do?” Ajax asks excitedly, shifting to where he was sitting up and laying on his side, curled around the latter. He rests against the incline of Zhongli’s body comfortably. They were still pressed against each other impossibly close, legs intertwining. Zhongli’s head presses against the pillow behind him, and Ajax stares at the horn-shaped indent in the cushion inquisitively. Zhongli is filled with an abrupt surge of affection at the sight. It has been a long time since someone looked at him with such fascination in this form. “Without your gnosis, I mean. Obviously you could do a lot with it.”

“I still have yet to see, Ajax, as it’s only been a week since I’ve lost it,” Zhongli murmurs. He brushes a stray strand of hair away from Ajax’s forehead. He presses the pad of his thumb against the growing frown lines developing between the ginger’s eyebrows. “How are you already developing wrinkles? You are still so young.”

“Mean!” Ajax pulls away, rubbing at the spot with the back of his hand. “Says the one who is six thousand years old! In fact I’m surprised you don’t have any wrinkles. Seriously, I’ve never even see you apply moisturizer before and—“

“Ajax,” Zhongli interrupts. This time, it’s his turn to stare at Ajax with astonishment. His eyes, bright and golden, burn a hole through the spot on Ajax’s forehead where Zhongli was just poking at. The ginger can’t help but strain to look up as if he could catch a glimpse of what the half-dragon was looking at. Cross-eyed, he just looked ridiculous. And confused. He was so, so confused. 

“What, what?” Ajax asks anxiously. Zhongli stares at him still, wordlessly reaching up to touch him again. The dragon’s eyes soften, brushing a knuckle right across Ajax’s cheekbone, right underneath a blue eye. The Harbinger sees, then, the gold that shimmers right beneath his vision. Zhongli’s expression is nothing short of enamored, astonished, and downright entranced.

“Is your hand glowing?” he asks. Zhongli shakes his head, listening, but not really. His eyes trail across Ajax’s face, too focused on the path that his hand takes more than anything else. He continues drawing lazy patterns across Ajax’s cheek, and the gold seems to shine brighter. “Xiansheng, what is going on?” 

“Your skin,” he begins slowly, voice lowered into a hush. Ajax has to strain to listen to him. “It seems to turn to gold where I touch.”

“W-what?” Ajax scrambles, but Zhongli places a reassuring hand on his shoulder. 

“It’s temporary, love, do not fret. The spot on your forehead has already disappeared.” 

“Wait, wait, I wanna see!” Ajax demands, suddenly sitting up straight. Zhongli follows suit and corrects his posture, holding his palm out as an invitation. 

“Give me your hand,” he commands gently. The latter complies, and places the back of his hand in the warmth of Zhongli’s own. 

The ex-Archon uses the tip of his finger to trace patterns into his hand, and the skin underneath responds immediately to the touch. It glows an ethereal shade of gold that has Ajax blinking away the spots that form in his eyes from the brightness. And although it goes away as quickly as it comes, it still leaves a tingling feeling across his skin as it disappears. Zhongli doesn’t so much as flinch at the brightness, though, as he continues tracing letters, characters, symbols he’s never seen before, into the palm of Ajax’s hand. The ginger shivers at the touch. It’s so intimate— it’s too intimate— he feels like he’s going to pass out. He can feel an energy so divine being pressed into the palm of his hand, sinking in through his skin and spilling into his bloodstream. Ajax’s heart beat picks up, a newfound energy coursing through his veins. 

It is a blessing that no one could ever even imagine receiving from Rex Lapis himself. 

Because gnosis or not, the being before him was a deity too precious to be touching a soul as blackened as Ajax’s. And yet here he was, accepting such a heavenly gift from Teyvat’s oldest god. 

Ajax almost wants to pull away, but it is his pure curiosity that keeps him in place.

Zhongli continues his trail up the Harbinger’s arm, and this time, he’s drawing flower petals that bloom from thin branches. They encroach upon the inside of his forearm, streaming along his veins as Zhongli draws petal after petal. The half-dragon is quick— quicker than the rate in which the golden lines disappear. He sketches the design of his flowers rapidly across his skin, all while maintaining his gentle hold on Ajax.

The human canvas has no choice but to sit and watch with awe as the design seems to come to life. Blue eyes follow gold, attracted like a moth to a flame, and Ajax is simply unable to look away from the art Zhongli creates on his skin of all things. Ajax’s skin, freckled and marred by years of fighting, is being turned into a work of art made for his eyes, and his eyes only. 

Once again, Zhongli has done what has felt like the impossible. 

But of course, all good things come to an end, and Zhongli stops. With a flick of his wrist, he tapers the tip of the last petal he draws before withdrawing his hand entirely. Ajax watches with the same level of fascination as the golden strokes vanish as if they were never even there. Yet still, Ajax’s skin tingles. 

“Any chance you knew you could do that?” he speaks after awhile, voice uncharacteristically quiet, pensive.

“No,” Zhongli answers, eyes flickering back up to him. “But to be honest with you, I do not wish to stop.”

Ajax’s eyes widen at the statement. “What do you mean—“

Zhongli’s hands grip at Ajax’s hips as he pushes him backwards. The Harbinger gasps, arms shooting out to wrap around his neck for stability. Zhongli crowds him in an instant as soon as Ajax’s back hits the floor. The ex-Archon noses at his neck, peppering kisses along the line of his jugular and watching with dilated eyes as a trail of gold is left behind where his lips once were. The feeling that blossoms in his chest can only be described as some primal satisfaction as Ajax is marked with his stamp of gold.

“I cannot help but wonder,” Zhongli speaks quietly, “if your skin would turn to gold while touching all parts of me.” His voice drops a whole octave. If it was deep before, it was even deeper now, closer to a purr than anything. The sound rumbles through his chest, making Ajax shiver at the noise.

Ajax’s breath stutters. “Oh,” is all he manages to say.

“If you would indulge my curiosity so kindly,” Zhongli begins, voice breathy, “I’d like to see you glow in many other places.”

“Oh my god,” Ajax blushes a furious red, “you have such a way with words, Xiansheng! And just do me already, you’ve never had to ask before!”

“I’m just asking because in this form, I might be… slightly different in some places.” Zhongli’s ears burn red.

“Oh my god,” Ajax all but sobs, “shut up and get inside me old man, make me glow, or whatever.”

Zhongli grins and oh fuck he has fangs, of course he has fangs—

“As you wish.”

Ajax does a lot more than glow that night. In fact, he gets so much more than what he initially bargained for. The sun begins to set, but the darkness that befalls the room matters naught when Ajax is turned into a human lamp every time Zhongli touches him. And gods above, does he touch him.

When Zhongli kisses him, his head spins a little more. When clawed hands squeeze at his hips and almost break skin, his heart beats a little faster. When one, then two, then three oiled fingers slip past the tight rim of muscle with care and makes him grind his hips down impatiently, his breaths come a little shorter. And when Zhongli finally, finally slides in and makes him forget his own name, Ajax can’t help the broken moan that flies past his lips when he bottoms out. 

Holy shit, Zhongli wasn’t kidding when he said he was built a little different. 

Though, they probably needed to gloss over the definition of a little later tonight because apparently, a little meant an additional three whole inches in length and half an inch in girth. The newfound length brushes past places in Ajax’s body he never even knew existed, scratching an itch he wasn’t aware he had.

Was Ajax expecting to be taking his boyfriend’s dragon dick at nine at night when he was supposed to be having dinner? No. Was he going to take it anyway? Absolutely. And in retrospect, Ajax was faring just fine. He had his legs wrapped tightly around Zhongli’s waist and his hands tugging at his loose locks. The amber ends glow brighter at every pull and Ajax just holds onto the strands for comfort at this point.

Zhongli, on the other hand, had his eyes shut and was breathing hard through his nose. 

“Xiansheng?” Ajax calls tentatively. He reaches a hand out to cup Zhongli’s cheek, and almost gets distracted by the luminance his hand emits as soon as he makes contact. 

“I’m alright,” Zhongli says through gritted teeth, “I’m having trouble… regaining composure, is all.”

“What do you mean?” Ajax gasps when Zhongli’s hips flex.

“You…” he struggles, “are very tight. And. My senses are heightened in this form.”

Ajax smiles wickedly, and squeezes around him. Zhongli hisses, biting down hard on Ajax’s shoulder. His fangs almost break skin, but the ginger doesn’t even flinch. 

“Let me on top,” he says instead, “I can set the pace.”

“That might be difficult,” Zhongli begins tentatively, “laying on my back may not be an option at the moment.”

“What? Why— oh, holy fuck.”

Lo and behold, a long, serpentine tail is laid out across the blankets and thumps once, twice, happily in place. It’s thicker at the base where it forms near Zhongli’s body, and smoothly tapers out until the end is covered in silky, golden locks. Ajax swears it sparkles. The hair flows so elegantly across their floor, Ajax almost has the urge to reach out and run his fingers through it. And he would, if he currently wasn’t impaled and unable to move. 

“... I apologize—“

“That is so hot,” Ajax almost weeps. “Please for the love of all Archons, Zhongli, Morax, I’m begging—ah!”

The lilt in his voice as he begs, whining the long lost name, has Zhongli moving before he can register what he’s doing.

Zhongli moves. He throws all caution to the wind and lets himself move recklessly without abandon. Ajax writhes beneath him and takes what he is given with gratitude, praying with breathless gasps and broken moans. Every noise that leaves his throat has Zhongli moving desperately for more. The light between them glows brighter, almost impossibly so, to where Ajax has to squeeze his eyes shut.

There's a moment where Zhongli grinds into him just right that sends Ajax crashing; his head is thrown back when he's all but forced to see stars, and his fingers scrabble to claw at Zhongli's skin for support. His back arches high off the bed and the ex-Archon uses the space to wrap a solid arm around Ajax’s lithe waist. He takes advantage of the bared neck in front of him and immediately noses at his pulse point, licking over the skin before sucking the flesh between his teeth. 

They lose track of time in the throes of their own pleasure. At some point, the sun fully sets, but Zhongli continues to shove him down into the sheets relentlessly. Ajax on the other hand, takes it like a pro and continues to surprise Zhongli with his growing responsiveness. He takes and takes and Zhongli feels like he has no choice but to continue giving. The dance between them is elegant as much as it is animalistic, and Ajax loves it.

Zhongli bites down on his neck slightly, flexes his hips, and the breaking of Ajax’s pale skin and the relentless pressure against his neck has the ginger spilling between the tight press of their bodies. A dragon’s fangs, apparently, are by no means gentle and tear into his skin with ease. Yet, the blinding pain that sears through Ajax’s body sends him tumbling nonetheless. Zhongli fucks him through his orgasm, rutting against him until he tips over at the sound of Ajax's pitiful, overstimulated cries. He shudders as he empties into him, breathing hard against where his face is pressed into his neck. 

They lay there for a moment; Zhongli tries to get his breathing under control, and Ajax tries to focus his vision after it had blurred during his climax. The ginger rakes his nails along Zhongli’s sweaty back, and the sensation brings them both back down from their high. Their breaths are heavy and labored, and Ajax can’t help the chuckle that leaves his lips when he finally calms down, because holy shit. He’s going to want to do that every night, now.

Sometime amidst their fun, the golden glow had dimmed, until it all but disappeared. 

"You suck," Ajax gasps after a moment, "you just ruined vanilla sex for me."

Zhongli snorts. "I don't suppose you expect me to morph every time you want to be intimate?"

Ajax's silence speaks volumes. It’s silent confirmation. The latter looks up, disgruntled. He looks so unamused, brows furrowed and everything, it makes Ajax chuckle and kiss the frown away. 

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding, xiansheng," he waves him off, "the only thing I expect from you right now is for you to pull out, oh my god Zhongli, get out of me. You're like those huge dogs that think they can fit in your lap! You're not exactly small, mister Rex Lapis!" 

"Oh, yes, my apologies," Zhongli murmurs. He presses a light kiss to Ajax's freckled shoulder before sliding out, muttering a quiet apology when he winces. He rolls off of Ajax and lays on his back next to him, so they're both staring up at the ceiling. His tail is gone and so are his horns, so he can finally lay on his back comfortably. Zhongli reaches for his hand and intertwines their fingers. He gets a squeeze in response.

“Say, xiansheng,” Ajax starts. “Have you ever been able to do that before?” 

Zhongli looks at him, silently asking him to elaborate.

“Turn someone’s skin to gold, I mean. With something as simple as touch, too. Has that ever happened?” 

“No,” he answers simply, “I believe this was the first occurrence in my six thousand years of being alive.”

Ajax hums. “So I’m not like. Going to die or anything, right?”

“Why would you die, baobei?” Zhongli chuckles, “you act as if I injected poison into your bloodstream.”

Ajax lets out an indignant squawk. “I! Am still kind of new to the whole dating a god thing! I don’t know what special abilities you adepti hold. And I am a mere mortal, after all!”

The reminder has Zhongli looking at him with sudden sadness. “That you are.”

Ajax hums and offers a small, resigned smile before letting his eyes slide shut. He gave into the exhaustion, it seems.

He’s already dozing off, and his head is tipping slightly to the left. He’s all but slumped into the comforters beneath him, his chest rising and falling with each soft breath he takes. He’s mildly aware that he’s going to have to wake him to clean him up in a few minutes, though, but he allows his lover to rest for a moment. The whirring void in his chest— the one that constantly reminded him of his lost power— finally, finally settles.

Zhongli watches with fascination as the human in front of him continues to glow. The gold is gone, though. Zhongli has shifted back into his mortal form and skin to skin contact no longer summons the bright golden light that was there before. 

Still, Ajax’s skin seems to glow a little brighter than usual. His cheeks are tinted pink and his lips are slightly parted, still plump and swollen from his bruising kisses. Zhongli swears he can see a light blue aura surrounding the lines of Ajax’s body. His chest fills with something warm and pleasant at the sight, thick like the syrup that runs through the veins of Liyue’s trees. It trickles throughout his entire body, down into his core, down his legs and to his arms. Zhongli no longer feels empty. He smiles fondly.

For those that live too long, the friends of days gone by and scenes from their adventures live on in their memories. As such, I have no regrets in meeting you, Ajax. Should the day ever come that we are not together, you will continue to shine like gold in my memories. 

Fanart #1

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[lunar-lair]

ok say hello to my insanely new oc who ive made entirely to be a villain who is still an excellent adult and a decent parent, probably. cares too much abt kids. think reigen mob psycho with a drop or two of milla. worked under Nick From The Mailroom and was actually in on his scheme.

has always been rather cold and brash towards adults, but is more caring towards kids. in my brain he has a brooklyn type accent? rough and tumble, walks around without a tie, yknow? they keep him cause he sorts mail real good, though.

(added a read more because this got INSANELY LONG AKSKSK i spent like an hr on this h)

he was a delugeionist, but only because he kinda just wanted to rip the world apart a little; lysandre vibes, thinks a lot of it is scum and needs to go. thinks the *psychonauts* are scum and need to go. hes psychic but suppressed it, think aquato parents but extra toxic about it, and straight up just saying being psychic is unnatural. wouldnt go to loboto parent lengths tho. so he adopted that thought of 'being psychic is unnatural and wrong', which contributed to a lot of self hate that was never learned out. likely, he realizes hes a shitty person and thinks he needs to go too. so like...yknow hank, dbh? kinda the vibe im gettin right now. way more formal, of course, and while usually gruff, is more polite when its needed; can and *will* beat the shit out of you verbally in a factual way, though, and can talk more street-lingo if hes talkin to real thugs. (probably winged it on his own after failing college or smth, hes got the vibes.)

anyways, its this plot where he slinks off and starts planting mistrust in the psychonauts or something. and inevitably he just...shows up and starts kidnapping people. dismantling things from the inside and all that. he left and formed a group who also hated psychics at some point, likely friends of his parents and friends of friends, all from his hometown. all of them fight *insanely* dirty, and a lot of them are insanely vulgar. the kids are supposed to be kept away.

but theres a line to follow here.

this man is a fold to raz. hates the psychonauts, hates being psychic, adopted his parent's hate of psychics, hates the *world.* raz is young and unburdened and unjaded...mostly. hes not the shock of water some young characters can be when it comes to being the foils of other characters; think steven with a villain or something, right? but raz is sassy and a little jaded, and not total sunshine positivity.

hes a child this man could look down on and not be immediately annoyed by, who is worried by yet respects raz's realization of the world as it is, however little that is.

and yet raz is still his foil. he still mostly loves the psychonauts, despite it all, he loves being psychic, for the most part, he dodged adopting his parents previous values, he still seems to have an even view of the world as a whole.

raz is jaded, if only a little, but he moved past it and accepted that things could still be bright. this man is jaded, but he stayed in his stormclouds, never looked for the sun.

ok where. was i. RIGHT ok so. at the beginning of this...story? the man finds raz being talked down to by one of the office workers; someone with weak psychic powers whos insanely jealous of his prowess. an adult who envies the young prodigy. and theyre giving him some insane task to do, like cleaning all of the closets within the hour, but hes saved the world twice, so he smiles and nods along, because he said he would help around the motherlobe, and this adult is asking him to do something that seems simple enough.

and this guy, internally, goes 'bitch.' for a good long second bc 1. dude even if you envy a kid, kinda fucked to show that?? not their fault 2. WHY are you asking a 10 year old to do that. why is there a 10 year old here. holy shit thats a 10 year old oh my god hes so tiny (no one told him there was a 10 year old because they knew hed stomp right up to management but. regardless. he is going to stomp up to management after this and no one can really stop him. except maybe raz well see)

so yknow. dude fixes his slight slouch and walks forward and politely tells this woman that 1. hes 10 why are you jealous of him and 2. hes 10????????? and shes like shit hes 10. and apologizes. and walks away

and raz is VERY ?? bc she was doing what? why is him being 10 important? and its that young part of you that gets pissed when people try to keep you from doing things because youre young and hes DEFINITELY yet to learn that piling responsibilites that should be handled by adults onto a child is fucked up in its own special way (looking at you ford, *nick*)

and the dude calmly explains because yea. he gets that. and he still sounds gruff and a little peeved but he squats down to razs height and he talks simply and factually, telling him straight on why it isnt right.

and. huh. people dont really do that for raz. except for sasha, sometimes, everyone likes to dodge the truth a lot with him, because hes 10, and sometimes, hes too nice to tug it out of them.

and this guy, this man that raz is already polishing a trophy for 'good adulting' in the back of his brain with his striking statements about how adults should handle things and kids should-kids should...get to have fun. not be traumatized.

for the shock on his face when raz said hed already saved the world a couple times, whats some closets. he reigned it in, said that its weird he saved the world, because thats usually their jobs.

and this guy offers his hand on instict before he stands up, even though he doesnt seem very sweet and kind like the adults that usually offer raz a hand. and he takes it, i think. he takes it.

warm. warm, a little nice.

reminds raz of his dad, maybe. he wonders if this man has any kids himself, but keeps his mouth shut, because he thinks he already has the answer, and its yes.

(he doesnt have any. he would wish he did, but he knows hed fail to raise them right.)

and when he stands, he asks raz what he was asking that woman for, and he says hes doing tasks around the motherlobe because his papers are still coming in. the man doesnt ask. (he knows what 'papers' means, realizes this is the tiny junior psychonaut every room in the damn place has been buzzing about, and he has fucking words for forsythe.) he just offers for the kid to sort mail under his supervision.

and that sounds boring. at least, it usually would.

this man is interesting, and a good...person? a good adult? hes...hes new. hes new, and calm, and a little like sasha but a lot not, and he thinks he trusts him.

so raz grins and says yea, mail sorting sounds nice.

(debatably, raz does not take his hand. hes too jaded when it comes to adults. debatably, he does not feel any warmth from this man who has taught him every adult has been telling him wrong. debatably, im projecting. but thats the whole point of ocs, hm?)

and then holes crop up in motherlobe systems. people are kidnapped.

raz keeps seeing the strange man, keeps telling him things, keeps hearing back, gruff and factual and a little annoyed, but raz can almost-just-barely tell its not at him, with the way he talks.

he can tell. he can tell.

he can never tell. this man is making sure he can tell.

raz trusts the man, is still polishing that trophy for 'best adulting' he has settling in the back of his mind.

and then the man comes with a militia.

he did not seem jaded. he did not seem hateful. he never showed any anger or hate towards raz.

but thats because he knows kids dont deserve it.

an excellent moral or two. a rotten, broken heart.

and at first, they keep the kids away, because these people fight dirty, because this isnt their battle, because the man has been sending emails about why 15 year olds are in a secret psychic agency.

(he does not mention raz. by razs second visit, he had just marked the boy down as another reason to hate the psychonauts as a whole, and especially its higher ups.

hes also regretting his alliance to nick by about the third. if he had known the man would puppet a child as if they were a toy, he would have organized his own rebellion ages ago.)

but eventually, the psychonauts need all hands on deck.

they send the children to find the missing agents.

the interns are fought on the way. some of them avoid the child, know the boss would pummel them.

they get to the base, and the strange man, the one with the broken trophy for 'best adult' (still barely-polished, because hes still so sure) still nestled in the back of razs brain, is still there.

the junior psychonauts are spotted. one of the guards throws a few rocks aimlessly.

they surprise them. one almost hits raz.

its intercepted instead.

and the other junior psychonauts watch as this man, their enemy, a villain, in their eyes, reprimands the other man for even accidentally daring, for even trying. for doing something they might have done just a month or so ago, if they had decided he was too much weirder than they already had.

and he yells something like, "Why the hell is he even here?! This is an enemy base, of whats a rebellion! This is a *10 year old*! What kind of adult sends a child *near* something like that?!" and he truly sounds angry this time, raz finds. hes too angry to keep it in. he still sounds gruff and oddly proper. raz is standing there, arms hanging. hes baffled in a specific way, the way he was every time the man's brow furrowed when he mentioned a harrowing story, the way he was the first day they met.

and he asks, a little quiet, a little small, a reminder of how young he really is, "Why are you still trying to keep me safe? We're supposed to be enemies now."

And his brow furrows further before flattening out, and he tilts onto one leg, and he swears he almost kneels to a knee.

He cant believe it. He really cant.

"You're 10." he says simply, softly, that factual way. "You shouldn't even be here."

and raz pauses. the interns freeze.

"...well, here I am."

and i think...it would be so intriguing if this was done halfway out of the mind, because this man is so against anything psychic. it would be so *compelling.*

so raz steps forward and asks again, asks why hes doing this.

and the mans eyes harden, he tries to turn off that soft heart, trying to remind himself of all that he hates. because he hates the psychonauts, because he sort of hates the world.

and raz asks why he could ever hate the psychonauts, head tilted, before listing off the few he knows to be true. but other than that, how? and ok, the world sucks a little, yea, hes seen that, gets that.

and he appreciates that this kid isnt totally gung ho about existence.

but he hates that he isnt, too.

and its this back and forth. everything the man hates, why he hates it. raz saying why its good but admitting why its bad.

and hes swayed, just a little.

but the man stands up from the kneel hed inevitably instinctively put himself into, and walks forward, hand held out yet again.

"You shouldn't be in the Psychonauts," he tells him, soft, factual, brow furrowed. "Come with me. I'll bring you back to your parents, or wherever it is you want to go."

raz contemplates. thinks, for a long moment.

he grabs the mans hand, warm and firm, yet again, for a terrifying moment.

before he reaches up to slap a mental door on his forehead, and astral projects into it.

he thinks this man is good. thinks hes just jaded.

thinks hes the best adult hes ever met, one who just happens to hate a lot of things.

hes only 10.

hes not letting someone who can tell him so clearly whats wrong and right for adults to tell him go that easily.

aaaand yknow. raz does his razzy thing. learns about why the guy hates the world and the psychonauts and himself. helps him learn that its not all bad, that he was excellent to raz, and still is, that things can be bad and good all at once.

the man concedes that raz is very capable, very smart, and can do a lot. but that doesnt mean he should have to.

raz tells him, though, that he likes working for the psychonauts. its his dream. and he realizes some things he was told to do were kinda screwed up, now. that maybe, in honesty, he was dealt a bad hand.

but hes done what he can with that hand, and he ended up with a royal flush.

and uh! yknow!! then raz leaves his mind and he calls off the rebellion! its like a rhombus of ruin type adventure, except without the villain being present beforehand. its just not clustered in insanely close with a ton of other wild shit.

anyways this got really long? sorry?? its an oc i just saw good adult and slight father vibe potential in the vibe i instantly got on him and then i went feral???? rip maybe someone will read this and if you did. congrats i honestly really liked how the whole foil and good-yet-bad and consideration of raz being 10 thing worked out. this oc is almost like our representative in the psychonauts world the way reigen is for the audience in mp100. yea :) i match them up a lot but thats just cause they vibe a lot. anyways its 1:40 am now and i spent abt an hour on this hope it vibed mildly byeeee

[rainydayhogwartsimagines]

Hey there! Could I please get a fred Weasley x reader where the reader is a Slytherin, but befriends everyone all the same, maybe with the trope of her being best friends w the twins and everyone trying to set her and Fred up bc there's so much tension? But they're terribly oblivious? I absolutely love this trope lmaoo. Thank you and have a wonderful day!✨❤️

This is cute-- How in the world do you guys come up with this adorable stuff omfg.

Warnings: Abuse, swearing, panic attacks, slight NSFW conversations, set in a non voldy world.

You were a strange one. A Slytherin with a Hufflepuff personality. Honestly anyone that knew you questioned if for once the sorting hat was wrong for the first time. You had friends EVERYWHERE. Fred and George had heard of you, people saying even Filch could find you enjoyable to be around. Once they heard that, oh boy, they had to meet you. Fred and George finally did by the lake one day. Fred was talking to George, noticing a few cracks from limbs in the tree they were standing under here and there. Finally they had an answer as to what was making it do that when they heard “OH SHIT” followed by “INCOMING!” followed by you falling right into Fred’s arms. “My bad, I was trying to get a bird back in its nest.” You apologized, hopping down the the ground. Fred blinked a couple of times, looking at the tree and then you. “Uh... twig.” George said, pointing to his head to indicate you had a twig in your hair. “Hmm? Oh! thank you!” You realized. “Did... You just fall out of a tree?” Fred asked. “You’d be surprised on how much that happens. Oh are you those twins I’ve been hearing about?” You asked. “Probably. I’m Fred--” “That’s George, yep I know.” You nodded. “...Who are you?” George asked. “Oh-- I’m Y/n!” You said. “Ohhhhh. See this is beginning to make sense now.” George nodded. Fred was just... Staring at you. It wasn’t a perplexed face of “What the fuck just happened”. It was more: “This girl is.. Pretty?” 

The twins started having more interactions with you. But there was the day you three became friends that neither of the boys will forget. Fred and George were sitting in the library. Reading? No. Napping? Yes. Well, until you slid into a seat. “Y/n?” Fred yawned. “Act. natural.” You said with this wild eyed look making George raise a brow. Then Draco ran in... With green hair. Fred was now awake and you were hiding your face in a book. “Have you seen Y/n!?” Draco growled. “No... But I see you decided to wear your Slytherin pride today.” George snorted. “You.” Draco growled. Then he noticed you laughing. He pulled down the book. “YOU!” He shouted. “Shit!” You gasped before Fred slid a chair in front of Draco, George bolting with you. You all hid in the one place Draco would never be caught dead in. The Gryffindor common room. You collapsed out of breath on the couch laughing with the boys. “What in the world made you do that?” George wheezed. “He decided to be a dick to my friend this morning. I got revenge. Tomorrow I’m thinking blue. He’s been giving Ravenclaw trouble lately.” You laughed making Fred snort. “Your idea is amazing, might I suggest we rig an exploding ink pen?” George said. “With silver ink, because red just seems to clash with that boy’s eyes.” You said making the boys laugh harder. “Oh I think we’re going to enjoy having you around, won’t we Freddie boy?” George asked. “Indeed Georgie. Indeed.” Fred chuckled.

So the mischievous three were introduced to the world. You had this policy though: Only prank the assholes. So that automatically meant a lot of kids from Slytherin. With each prank you got closer to the boys. Specifically Fred. Something about him just drew you in, like a moth to a flame. George wasn’t stupid either, he could see the looks you two would give each other. When you all entered your fourth year, you had started helping out with their little underground business. You spent the first two weeks of summer that year at home but actually ended up staying with the Weasleys’. You seemed... A little off though. Fred and George both noticed you begin to space out at times, giving off almost this sad look. Whenever they’d talk to you though, you looked at them like you normally would. Something was wrong. They could feel it. It wasn’t until they met your father at the station they realized what was going on. He seemed to snap at you a lot, making you go completely silent. To anyone that didn’t know you this was a normal response. To the boys though, you always had something to say. If you were quiet, this was because you were afraid. Not disciplined. You sat on the train in complete silence. Neither of the boys were sure if they should ask you about your dad. You focused on the rain drops on the window. “I’ve always liked the rain. What about you guys?” You finally asked. “Makes me tired as shit.” George said making you crack a smile. “Heard one of Harry’s uncles is teaching this year.” Fred said. “I think I remembered him mentioning that. The Remus guy?” You asked. “He’s standing in while Quirrell is away.” George nodded. “As long as it isn’t like last year’s substitute.” You groaned. “Fucking Gilderoy.” All of you said in unison making each other laugh. “I swear a simple breeze makes Quirrell catch something.” George sighed. “He does end up getting sick a lot. Remember when he got chicken pox?” You asked. “You would’ve thought the bastard was dying.” Fred nodded. ”He has the immune system of an infant, I swear.” you laughed. 

You all sat around in the Great Hall, you catching a glimpse of who the new substitute professor was. He had a scar on his face and it reminded you of something. You just couldn’t figure out what. Eventually though, you came to like the way Remus taught. He had a sense of humor. Not that Quirrell didn’t it was just very awkward when he did finally crack a damn joke. Remus rose a brow when he saw your first and last name on the roll call. “Miss Y/n, is your mother perhaps Persephone L/n?” Remus asked. Fred rose a brow. “She was sir.” you said, making George look up. “Was?” Remus asked. “She passed on when I was eight sir. Why, did you know her?” you asked, earning a couple of students to glance at your response. “I did. Very kind woman. Who did she marry?” Remus asked. “Cassian Lestrange sir.” You responded, making everyone now halt. “...I see.” Remus nodded. “Something wrong?” You asked. “No offense.. I truly mean none. But I genuinely cannot see Cassian as a father.” Remus admitted. You nodded looking down. “He’s... An interesting man.” You muttered, your look distant and pained. Remus noticed, but changed the subject. Fred looked back at his desk. He had no idea about any of this, much less a distant relation to Draco. Judging by your reaction to the questions though, Fred decided it was best to leave it be. You enjoyed Remus’ class, him noticing a few similarities to your mother as you interacted with other students. You always had a smile on your face when you spoke to others. But the one thing he always noticed was the looks that you and Fred would share. George usually paired up with a girl but Fred ALWAYS paired up with you. You two worked well together. It almost reminded him of two other people he knew... Today though, wasn’t the best of days. It was time to practice Boggarts. You already knew what yours was, but you weren’t ready to exactly displayed to the class. You however walked forward and did it anyways, holding your breath as the Boggart began to shift. Finally it did.

Into your father. You opened your mouth to say a spell but nothing came out, your hands shaking as it inched forward. Fred looked at you and then the boggart, quickly pulling you back with one arm and shouting “riddikulus”. You couldn’t still your breathing and it only seemed to be getting worse. “Y/n? Look at me.” Fred said, ignoring the students watching you. Remus locked the closet and you hyperventilated. “Class dismissed.” Remus said, shuffling the other students out. “I-I can’t-- b-breathe.” you whimpered. George ran over and you gripped your head. “Y/n. I’m right here Love, follow my breathing.” Fred said softly. You followed his movements. “What’s your favorite book?” George asked making Remus raise a brow. “S-sense and Sensibility.” You answered, still regulating your breathing. “Personally I’m more of a short story man, what about you Freddie?” George asked. “Not big on reading. More of a napping fellow.” Fred answered. You let out a small laugh and straightened your posture. “What’s your favorite class?” Fred asked. “P-probably this one.. with the exception of t-today.” you answered. Remus reached into his drawer and handed you chocolate and a bottled water. “Thank you professor.” You muttered. You sat down and sighed. “Y/n... I hate to ask this, truly I do. But is there anything going on at home?” Remus asked. You didn’t say anything. “I... Don’t want to answer that question.” You finally said. Fred frowned and George exchanged a look. “Boys, do you mind leaving us for a few moments?” Remus asked. Fred kneeled to you, looking at your face. “I’ll be outside if you need me. Okay?” He asked. You nodded and he got up, leaving with George.

The door closed and Fred let out a long sigh. “I am going to kill her father, want to help?” Fred said. “Hand me a shovel.” George said simply. “Why didn’t she say anything?” Fred asked. “She doesn’t even want to talk to Lupin Fred. You saw her face, she most likely didn’t want to remember.” George said. Fred looked at the door and sighed. “We can’t let her go home George. Not this summer.” Fred said. “I’m with you.” George agreed. The two boys became a bit more protective over you. But they found it so strange that you still kept the happy go lucky personality despite going through all of this. Then Fred found you one night in the astronomy tower with a blanket. You were propped up against one of the stone arch’s and looking at the night sky. “Y/n?” Fred asked. You looked over at him. “Hey Fred.” You said with that smile. He sat across from you. “What brings you up here?” Fred asked. “Insomnia. And cookies.” You said. “Cookies?” Fred asked. You scooched closer to him, pushing a tin of cookies to him. He took one and you sighed looking at the stars. “Can I ask you something?” He said. “Sure.” You nodded. “What keeps that smile on your face all the time?” He asked. You let out a long breath, thinking over a detailed answer. “Lots of reasons. I have two kickass best friends that will fight for me no matter what, I have really cool teachers, I have friends who are like family.” you answered. “But... I keep that smile because some times someone just needs to see the good in the world. I won’t lie to you. My life is much darker than I think you accounted for. But if my smile provides someone else some light then damn it I’ll keep this up.” You said. Fred looked at you surprised. “Y/n...” He muttered. You looked at Fred and he said nothing, pulling you into his arms. You slowly hugged him back and he sighed. “I swear if anyone tries anything with you again, I will personally send them to their grave.” Fred said making you laugh. “I’m serious!” Fred said, not being able to keep a straight face seeing your smile. “Shut up and take a cookie.” You laughed. 

You two were found passed out the next morning my Luna. You were in Fred’s arms and he was holding you close. You two never brought it up, despite the fact that both of you were blushing like crazy when you woke up. It was now CRYSTAL fucking clear how Fred felt about you to George after witnessing a snowball fight between you two that resulted in Fred tickling your sides and making you laugh during a Hogsmeade trip. You smiled in his arms, faces inches apart. If Fred and George’s jackass brother hadn’t gotten into a fight with Draco, George was 95% sure you two would’ve kissed. 

You seemed distracted by something else though, and that was your professor. The scar on his face- why did it look familiar? And why was Remus going to Snape for a secret potion? You noticed that he was pretty secretive about his personal life and Harry never answered the question of where the mark came from. You took what you like to call “The Granger Approach.” Which was basically reading until you had a reliable answer. Fred sat with you the entire time, napping or talking to George while you read. Both boys were passed out by the time you found an answer. “Oh... Shit.” you realized, making Fred open an eye. “Find what you’re looking for?” George yawned. “...Yeah and I think Remus is going to be absent tomorrow.” You said looking at the full moon through the large glass windows. “Why’s that?” Fred asked. “He’s a werewolf.” You said in a whisper. Both boys looked at you with a “You can’t be serious” expression. “What makes you say that?” Fred asked. “Ron said something. Harry’s class saw his boggart. It was the moon.” You said. George blinked. “If our little brother is your proof that’s not exactly reliable.” George said. “How do you explain the potions he gets from Snape, or the scar on his face, or the fact that he was leaving campus this afternoon?” You asked. “He was?” Fred asked. “He was sneaking around but I noticed him.” You shrugged. “Alright. Say he doesn’t show up tomorrow. Who fills in for a substitute?” George asked. “Probably Snape.” you grumbled. “You’re a Slytherin and you don’t like Snape? My God you really are a strange one.” Fred teased making you smile. George rolled his eyes. “Do we ask him about this?” George asked. “No. We leave this alone unless Remus needs help.” you said. “How in the hell were you not sorted into Hufflepuff? Like honestly?” Fred asked. “I have no idea. Luna says its never wrong though.” You shrugged. 

Sure enough, Remus didn’t show up and Snape took over class that day. Fred, George and you all exchanged knowing glances but overall didn’t say anything. The school year finally came to a close and you were honestly sad to see Remus go. The crazy thing was: That day when you explained your boggart to Remus, he told you that his door was open to you if you needed to leave home. You declined but Fred was hellbent on you staying with them for the summer. He hated the idea of you being potentially in harm’s way. This offer you accepted. You showed up, bags in hand with that same beautiful smile. Molly was of course excited to see you and you were happy to be there. The Burrow honestly felt like home. You and Fred had so many moments though that made the whole family go “Dude. Kiss already. PLEASE.” Specifically when you saw a spider and screamed, practically climbing up Fred while he killed the damn thing. “You managed to go into the forbidden forest alone and came back unscathed but a small spider scares you?” Fred asked, your legs having a death grip around his torso. “THEY ARE FUCKING CREEPY FRED!” You whined. “It’s smaller than you!” He laughed, holding you up. “SO IS A GRENADE!” you whined. You hopped down and eyed the dead spider. “Afraid it’ll crawl--” “FRED IT HAD BABIES!” You screamed, climbing right back up him, more directed to his face. “Oh for Christ’s sake--” He said, enchanting a broom to sweep them out. “You’re a Slytherin. All of  you have creepy creatures for pets and you are terrified of..” “Fred faced you as you were linked to his side, inches away from him. You looked in his eyes, almost as if you were looking for something, swallowing hard. “What the hell happened here?” Ron asked, seeing the two of you. “I saw a spider.” “OH GOD WHERE--”

George was tired of this tension. Yes, it was cute to see his brother head over heels. But my GOD WERE YOU FUCKING DENSE. BOTH OF YOU. How could you two have so many OBVIOUS moments that would make people who barely knew you go “Oh so they like each other” But you two still be clueless to the other’s intentions. You two also talked endlessly to George and Ginny. Both of them would sit there listening wanting to say something, but kept their oaths of silence. This year things were bound to change though. You see: this year was a Triwizard tournament. Other schools were coming to this shindig. And a boy from Durmstrang seemed awfully fixated on you. You were friendly, inviting him to sit and Fred would just be internally screaming the whole time watching you. The Durmstrang boy would do things that literally made Fred’s eye fucking twitch: playing with your hair, complimenting your smile, constantly looking at you. You were oblivious to this being flirty though, unaware of the boy’s crush on you. Finally one day Fred had to talk to you about it. He could not stand watching this little fucker with you. “You should talk to her Fred. Tell her how you feel.” George said. “And if she doesn’t feel the same way?” Fred asked. George practically slammed his head down onto the table in frustration, releasing a long groan. “JUST. ASK. HER.” George whined, making Fred jump. “Good God man, what’s gotten into you!?” Fred asked. “NOTHING FRED. ABSOLUTELY NOTHING.” George groaned, getting up and making Ginny nearly die of silent laughter. 

You were in the library, grabbing a few books for a herbology project when Fred popped up, scaring the shit out of you. “Christ! Say something when you’re behind me!” You breathed. “Sorry! Sorry.” Fred apologized. “What do you need?” You asked curiously. “What’s going on with you and that Durmstrang kid?” Fred asked. “What do you mean?” you asked, moving down the aisle, looking for a specific book. “Do you like him?” Fred asked. “He’s cool.” You shrugged. “Not like that Y/n.” Fred huffed. “Like what?” You asked. “Romantically. Do you like him romantically?” Fred asked. “Wha-- no!” You gagged. Fred felt a wave of relief wash over him. “Why did you want to know?” You asked. “It’s just... He acts like he likes you. That’s all.” Fred said. You stopped and turned around, a questioning squint on your face. “Would it have bothered you if I did?” You asked. “Yes.” Fred answered, no hesitation in his words. “Why?” you asked. Fuck. Fred did not think this through. “It just would’ve.” Fred said. “Again, why would this have bothered you?” You asked. “No particular reason!” He lied. “Answer the god damn question before I ask out Luka out of spite!” You snapped. “You do that and I ask Angela out!” He said back. You glared. “Oh that bothers you!?” Fred noticed the expression. “Yes it bothers me!” You said. “Why!?” Fred asked. “I asked you first, you dolt!” You said. Both of you were quickly becoming aggravated, glaring at each other. Fred couldn’t take it anymore and slammed his lips onto yours, resulting in you dropping the book in your hands and cupping his cheeks. You two eventually pulled away for this stupid thing called air and you let out a small laugh. “Well shit Fred, if you would’ve just started with that I wouldn’t have had to ask.” You laughed. He smiled, his hands around your waist. “You’re lucky we’re in public or else I would’ve done a lot more than that Princess.” Fred said in your ear. You looked at him with a smirk “If I knew making you jealous would make you act like this, my God I would’ve made friends with this kid ages ago.” You laughed. “Oh bite your tongue.” He chuckled. “Hmm, I’m thinking I leave that to you.” you teased. He shook his head, kissing you again. 

George caught you two and he actually screamed “HALLEFUCKINGLUJAH” at the top of his lungs, making both of you jump. You three ended up in detention (you and Fred were in trouble for the book mess), George telling you two how the past few months were absolute hell. “I have been watching you two jackasses, trying to get you to DATE since LAST JANUARY. IT’S OCTOBER.” George complained. “It wasn’t that bad!” You laughed. “Not that bad-- NOT THAT BAD!? FRED TALKS MY GOD DAMN EAR OFF ABOUT YOU AT NIGHT-- I DON’T SLEEP” George whined. “Has he now?” You asked, smirking at Fred who was smiling. “You’re always on the bastard’s mind! And I have to listen to Ginny complain to me with the same issue-- ‘Y/n was talking about Fred again to Hermione. Something about if given the chance she’d definitely shag him’.” George quoted making you choke on air and cough as Fred looked at you with an amused smirk.  “Would you now?” Fred asked. You rolled your eyes “What was it you said to me a few hours ago-- ‘You’re lucky we’re in public or else--’” “I remember what I said Darling, I just wanted to know where your mind was.” Fred teased. “Oh you know exactly what I’m thinking you little shit.” You griped making him snort. “Oh God Mcgonagall better come back soon, I’m locked in a room with two randy jackasses.” George prayed aloud. “Relax we’re not going to shag.” Fred said. “Thank god.” George sighed. “That’s not until three.” Fred yawned making you snort and George slammed his head on his desk. “DRINK HOLY WATER YOU UNGODLY SINNERS” 

[pomegranates-and-blood]

νοσταλγία (Prologue)

(Gif credit to @honestsycrets​)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader (eventual)

Summary: This is a retelling/romantization of the Greek myth of Persephone’s abduction with Ivar as Hades and you as Persephone. The Reader character is a Greek/Byzantine woman, follower of the Greek Pantheon/Religion, and a devoted follower of Persephone. This takes place after 5A, but the universe of this is a little changed in relation with the series, of course. Thank you for giving it a chance, hope you enjoy!

Word Count: Like 7k, I’m sorry

Warnings: As usual, mentions and descriptions of blood, death, torture, injury and people being burnt alive. Mentions or allusions to rape. If there’s anything else I didn’t mention, please let me know. Fair warning that the Reader Character may not be everyone’s cup of tea, but please give her a chance.

A/N: So, in this universe, bc fuck Michael Hirst, Sigurd is alive (tho Ivar did throw the axe) but married and away, Bjorn is still somewhere sunny, and Dublin was founded in Saxon land by Hvitty, Ivar and Ubbe, but it is the latter the one in control, prompting Ivar to eventually return to Kattegat and take the throne form Lagertha (she is alive just like in the show, only Bjorn is not here -I like to think he would understand his brothers wanting to avenge Aslaug?- and Floki departed bc he didn’t want to have to choose between supporting the kid he raised and an old friend), leaving him as King, Ubbe as ruler of Dublin, Hvitserk in Kattegat for now like in the show, Bjorn getting a tan in the Mediterranean, and Sigurd alive and happy cause goddammit killing him was a stupid choice. Sorry and btw this isn’t my creation, this is based on some exchanges I saw on reddit and a lil bit of me lol)

The warrior hesitates before letting you enter the tent, but you do so quietly and without a word, like it is expected out of you, and the men discussing war take no notice of you as you slip into a seat and watch them discuss.

Narses, still in the armor of a Byzantine Strategus despite his back having been turned to the Empire for a long time, turns to look at you as you enter. He doesn’t say a word, but in his green eyes there’s a plea for you not to speak, one that you must obey with gritted teeth and bitten tongue.

He understands, and there’s relief in Narses’ eyes.

Your friend. Your confidante.

Your fool.

His lips are pressed into a thin line, his hands supporting most of his weight as he leans on the war table.

“Our numbers are strong enough to hold until support from Strepshire arrives.” The Christian you recognize as Leofric -a bishop? Cleric? You have no idea anymore- speaks, his voice not much unlike the sound of the Byzantine soldiers’ armor plates rustling together as they march down the streets, burning idols and slaying the poor fools that believed the Gods would save them.

“If we retreat, we can-…” Narses argues, but is quickly interrupted.

“You belong to us!” Leofric barks, and you startle at the sudden aggression, “You have made a deal, Greeks. You must honor it.”

“I am aware. I am also aware you Saxons would sacrifice everything for your revenge.” Narses scoffs back, interrupting the Saxon and your train of thought at the same time.

“You want the same, boy. Is it not why you insist on gaining our support?” Stithulf, the leader, states, leaning back on his chair and resting his hands on the back of his head.

His posture screams of arrogance, his young age of a boy with too much power, his scars of a monster eager to fight.

You could use someone like him leading your army. You have seen too many of the so-called soldiers in your home bend the knee to a false Emperor. Maybe you need a monster on your side, someone with the same thirst for blood Greece left you with, someone willing and able to bring the Gods down from the very Olympus for retribution.

And as he leans back he catches sight of you, his expression tightens into a scowl, and you discard the remote possibility.

Not only is he a Christian, the same brand of men that burned your home, your mother, and years later you as well; but he looks upon you like all you are to do is be one of more of virginal maidens for his strange pantheon.

“What is the witch doing here?” He asks out loud, and you swallow down the words you want to say, but still holding his gaze.

“She is to be my wife, I trust her advice.” Narses sentences, sending you a glance that you return with a grateful one of your own.

“I didn’t know you Greeks were ruled over by your women.”

“Greek women are the only ones to birth real men.” You quip before you can stop yourself, reminded with the bittersweet feeling of nostalgia of when your father told you those exact words.

“Is that what your Goddess tells you, Heathen?”

Even the cadence of Leofric’s voice is enough to get you to twist your lip as you turn your gaze to him, but he remains stoic, a quiet sort of anger bubbling behind his eyes. You could swear a small smile tugs at his lips, as if he truly believes a simple word is enough to silence you.

The loud interruption of Narses’ fists colliding with the table stops his mocking, and the man’s eyes shift to his Byzantine ally within a moment.

“Do not call her that.”

“It is not an insu-…” You start, but your friend turns to you once again, begging you in silence to keep quiet. Biting down a sigh, you lean back in your chair and return your eyes to the map.

A long way from home, setting tents alongside Christians, and shutting your mouth because a man told you to. For all the visions and counsel the Gods have sent you through the years, a word of what was to become of your integrity would have been appreciated.

The sound of the curtains of the tent flapping open and closed makes you lift your gaze from the map, and you see Stithulf’s retrieving back.

Narses sighs, not looking at you when he concedes, both to inform you and the rest of the Saxons and Arab mercenaries in the room,

“We will hold.”

A cold hand grips your heart and the names of the Goddesses you seek for guidance and comfort are at the tip of your tongue, shaped by your lips but never spoken.

The Christians leave you two alone, and you walk to the soldier hunched over the war table. Your native Greek feels like a soft song evoking nostalgia as it dances past your lips:

“You cannot…”

“Please, my love.”

Anger bubbles within you, and you stand up straighter as you meet his eyes, “Narses, the Varangians will overpower us, you know we lost too many already, the support from Ivar the Boneless’ incoming army will crush us, you know h-…”

“This is a matter of war, love, let me handle it.” Narses interrupts, to which you frown.

“I know of war Narses! And I know this is a foolish move!”

“Do you know how to lift a sword?” He retorts, a challenge in his voice that does not go unnoticed.

“I…” You clench your teeth, looking up at him with narrowed eyes. “I do not need to fight to…”

He laughs bitterly, interrupting you, “Are you hearing your own words?”

“Are you hearing yours? The Varangian King has a crown made of bones and blood, Narses, don’t be foolish. Athena rejoices when he wages war, his army carries her favor.” You spit out your words, trying to make him understand. Narses remains impassive, though, eyes on the map and jaw clenched tight.

“You cannot argue of battle if you have never-…”

You interrupt him with a scoff, pointing an accusing finger at him even when he doesn’t meet your eyes, “I do not need to know how to kill to know the Varangians will swallow you whole. And you’ll drag our people with you.”

At your last words, his head snaps up, eyes facing yours with ferocity and more than old anger, “What choice do I have, huh? We will freeze or starve come winter, we need to move for Eleusis soon!”

“Our people…” You start, but he interrupts you again.

“Our people chose to follow me, and they will.”

“They followed me, they believe in me,” You correct without hesitation, teeth bared, “You followed me, Narses, and I let you, because you promised me an army.”

For a second he hesitates, takes you in with what seem to be new eyes. He seems to have forgotten there’s more than a meek priestess to the woman he followed from Attica. He seems to forget the bloodied hands and hungry smile that greeted him when you gave him the choice to be at your side.

“And I followed you because I love you, because I believe in you!” He exclaims, making shame and regret churn at your insides. You deviate your eyes from his, gritting your teeth.

“I begged you not to force our people to fight against these Norsemen, and you didn’t listen,” You grit out after a few breaths, anger returning to your voice, “Where was your love, your trust, when you chose to ally with these…Christians?”

He takes one of your hands in his, and the touch feels cold.

“You must trust me with this,” He intreats, warm eyes looking for something in your own you don’t think he can find. “Can you trust me?” A small pause, and you taste your own regrets in your mouth, “Love me?”

You press your lips into a line, and because you cannot say anything else, because the lie has gone on for too long and you might as well offer a truth before you entreat your soul to Hades, you whisper,

“Once, I could have.”

But he shakes his head, fervent and certain as he finds your eyes again,

“I promised you Attica, and it will be yours.”

But his words are empty. You do not care for that kingdom if the people that you love are not alive and prospering in it.

“Pray to the Gods you are killed by the Varangians, old friend. I will sacrifice you to Hades myself if you dare return alive from the place you are condemning my people to die on.” You sentence, unable to keep from showing the curl of disgust in your lip, the ancient pain in your eyes.

Narses walks closer to you, eyes searching yours and hands on your shoulders. You clench your jaw. He is gentle, he always is. Gentle, but so were the men that held you as their brothers in arms dragged your mother out of that temple.

You take a step back, but Narses speaks still, ignoring your discomfort,

“These Christians care not for their God, they just want Ivar the Boneless and his brothers. We give them to Stithulf, and they will march for Eleusis with us.”

You shake your head as you watch him believe his own lies.

“Even if we succeed, you are exchanging one master for another, Narses.” The words are your farewell as you turn your back to him and walk towards the entrance of the tent.

____

You walk into your tent and are greeted with a language these Saxons want to have you killed for speaking. The tongue of savages, of barbarians, of Vikings.

“Did they threaten to burn you yet?” Sieghild asks, and you can hear the smile in her voice even if her back is turned to you as she tends to the fire.

“Narses and Stithulf command us to remain,” You confess instead, voice breaking, “Kattegat’s army will be here in a day’s time to aid Dublin’s, but we will not retreat.”

The gasp she lets out forces you to shut your eyes tight in hope of keeping the tears at bay.

You both remain silent for a few instants, and you let yourself fall to the log she brought as a seat. Taking a seat next to you, she places a motherly hand on your knee, squeezing lightly until you look back up at her.

Blueish ink traces ancient marks on the skin of her face, and she moves a lock of your hair away from your face, the rattling sounds of her bracelets and trinkets reaching your ears and filling you with a sense of nostalgia you have difficulty explaining.

“If we must, we will die. Resisting, like your mother and I taught you.”

“This is not the war I will die fighting on!” You yell back, closing your hands into fists as they start shaking. “I will not see my people die fighting a cause not their own, Sieghild. I can’t.”

She takes your head in her hands gently, and, pressing cold lips to your forehead, she gives you the comfort only a mother can.

“Even if we die tomorrow, the Gods are with us. They have been close to you since your birth. You will understand soon.”

“I will certainly see Hades soon.” You smile bitterly, but Sieghild doesn’t falter.

“Then challenge his throne.” She states, and the feral, hungry, look in her eyes makes you think she is not speaking of your God.

You do not even believe in the same Gods, and yet Sieghild remains at your side, you at hers, since she found a crying child clutching a wooden carving of Persephone.

“They want me to give them up, but I won’t.” You argue stubbornly, as the red-haired woman cleans your face with a warm wet cloth. She smiles.

“Arguing about Gods is a matter for adults, little one,” She silences your next argument with a single finger, inked and painted like her face and arms. “They cannot make you believe in their God.”

“But…Mother’s altar, th-they…”

“Those are merely worldly things. The Christians fight with fire what Logi and Glöð themselves have created.”

“Who?”

She chuckles, fingers going through your hair and places a finger on your chest.

“Your faith, your legacy, remain here.”

And at dawn, when the men sound the horns and ready for a battle they must know will be lost, you whisper a prayer to Athena and Enyo, your heart griped tight by the cruel mistresses of Fate.

Even all the tales travelers and mercenaries told you about the army of Kattegat, the sheer strength, the flawless tactics, the barbarian-like warriors; none of that prepared you for the display of forces, however small considering his actual army, Ivar the Boneless has displayed before you.

You catch a glimpse of Narses and Stithulf approaching the King, you hear faintly of the Viking’s taunts.

“Narses is a fool.” You bite out, anger poisoning your voice even as tears clogging your throat make the words wobble.

“A Byzantine Strategus doesn’t fall without a fight, girl. Do not grant my countrymen their victory just yet.”

Even if you hide it as you lower your face, a surge of pride for the foolish warrior that followed you to the ends of the world makes a small smile blossom in your face.

“Do I hear you admitting us soft citizens stand a chance against your brutes, mother?” You mock with a smile, even as you discuss the imminent danger that the Norse men represent to you and your people. Maybe it’s because of the way Sieghild, with all her harshness and tough lessons, comforts you even facing death itself. Maybe it’s the Gods that have guided you your whole life embracing you as you near your descent to Hades.

She laughs, raspy and warm, as always. “I’m saying your boy may give the sons of Ragnar an entertainment.”

A crow flies overhead, cawing loudly and taking your gaze away from the soldiers ahead and into the sky. Something within you, something primal and asleep seems to follow its path in the skies with more than just your eyes.

“Odin is watching. History will be made today.” Sieghild whispers behind you, but you cannot take your gaze away from the black feathers as you answer.

“Apollo sends us an omen. The Gods do not favor us.”

She laughs quietly, shaking her head as she rests a heavy hand on your shoulder

“Your Goddess surely revels in this, dear. The spilled blood of those who will be to arrive at her kingdom waters her flowers, after all."

Flashes of a life before chaos blossom behind your closed eyes, images of a life under the spring sun, of fertility festivals and your mother’s warm laughter as she honors the Daughter of Nature.

And for a second, with the warmth of nostalgia encompassing you, you want to argue that Persephone looks after life; but when your eyes open and all you see is war and cold, you realize maybe she wasn’t the one captured.

Maybe she was not a stolen maiden, but a bloodthirsty usurper.

“May she rejoice, then, and be merciful when we reach her Kingdom.” You whisper.

The war cries reach your ears before you can even see the warriors attack, but soon chaos follows the chariot, that marches not with the set pace of Apollo’s, but free and leaving chaos and death at its wake.

With a heavy weight on your stomach, you hold your place as the battle begins, the injured and dying falling back to the area you look after with Greek soldiers at your back, granting a safe haven for the fallen, either to give them another chance to fight or a merciful end.

_____

It’s been days and the Saxons still push for victory, despite the losses. And, despite their losses and bloodshed, the Vikings push ruthlessly for death.

The camp of healers you have set by the entrance of the woods is so filled with the stench of blood and death that you fear you will never be able to smell a flower again. The warriors come and go, the drachmas in their eyes or in their hands. Your heart dies a little with every familiar face you send off to Hades.

You are working on pressing down with the poultice of herbs to stop a soldier from bleeding from the wound on his back when you hear, past the yells and death and fighting, your name.

You would know that voice anywhere, and you leave the safety of the healing camp to follow the hoarse call.

Narses’ figure stumbles and crawls as he tries reaching you, and, not caring for battle, you run the space separating you. Your knees dig painfully into the earth as you kneel at his side, but the pain in your heart drowns it all.

“No, no, no,” You sob, shaking fingers tracing his bloodied cheeks as he gasps in pain in your arms. His eyes are focused on you, and you cannot deny him the answer of yours, even if battle still goes on around you. With another broken gasp, you whisper, “You fool, you fool.”

Galla calls your name from somewhere at your side, and you turn blind attention to her, murmuring to have people take him to the healers’ tent. She agrees, and you start to pull away from your childhood friend.

Narses opens his mouth to speak, but only blood pours out. You silence him with trembling fingers against his lips, granting the kiss you cannot. Your heart begs you to do something, anything, to keep him alive, to take away his pain, to…to…

But all you do is remain kneeling on the ground, and you cannot take your eyes off his shield. Splattered with blood and mud, left behind a few feet away from you, on the cold and unrelenting earth.

Your mother’s last words to your father, you remember them as if it were yesterday, as if you could still see the warmth in her gaze, the hardened adoration in his. Her delicate hands offering him the shield with Sparta’s symbol on it as he prepared to storm Macedonia, her words a murmur that meant come back to us, my love even when her sentence was other.

Return home with it, or on it.

With it, or on it. With it, or on it. With it, or on it.

But Narses never returned home, none of you ever did. He never returned home, he didn’t die for your home, he died for…for…

You hear hurried footsteps coming towards you, the feeling of having Varangian eyes on you makes you turn just in time to see the warrior approaching. You grab Narses’ shield from the ground, moving as fast as you can to guard your back and block the Viking’s strike with the metal shield.

It is sheer anger and grief, nothing more than the desire to hurt back, that pushes you to take an arrow from the quiver at your back and drive it through the warrior’s knee with your bloodied hand.

He falters, stumbling away from you, but you don’t let go, holding on tightly to the shaft of the arrow and inflicting as much pain as you can. When he finally hits the ground with his back, you crawl over him, sitting on his stomach and bashing his face with the shield.

With your weight upon him, his axe cannot find a home in your skin and instead meets the shield. Over and over, metal meets metal. With a growl, the Viking lets go of it and grabs your hair, pulling roughly and forcing your blows in his face to stop.

You let go of the shield, and your eyes focus on the skies above for a moment before you find the strength to fight.

A yell leaves your lips, and your hungry teeth find the tender skin at the inside of his arm, forcing him to let go of your hair. Blood fills your mouth and almost makes you gag. You spit the flesh from your mouth and with a snarl you drive another arrow through his eye.

He screams as your whole weight leans on the arrow, making sure the projectile you use as a spear kills fast. Your hands keep slipping from the shaft as the blood you have tried to keep from spilling and the blood you have spilled wets your hands.

When he finally stops moving, you know you should feel nothing but emptiness and dread.

Looking with frantic eyes for Narses and Galla, you find him being carried by two of his soldiers back to the tent. You should follow, but you cannot bring yourself to do so.

You look down at your dress. Red, the color of a bride’s veil, stained with the blood of the man you just killed. Your ears ring, your eyes cloud with tears as you realize what you have done, and you scurry away from the corpse as if your breath cannot get into your chest because of your proximity to him…to it.

You know what you should feel, you know what a Priestess, a woman, ought to feel at the sight of death, you know. But dread and horror are not the only things you feel. A part of you is satiated, like a snake curling satisfied and vindicated after injecting its poison; you taste the blood and feel alive.

When you lift your gaze to the battle again, you catch the eyes of the Varangian King. You know who he is, you have heard the tales and even without the chariot he sits on you would still recognize the eyes of the man that rules over Kattegat.

Ivar the Boneless.

He looks at you for a few moments, and you fear he is to call for his men or kill you himself, but he doesn’t. A slow, cruel, ruthless smile starts curving at his bloodthirsty lips, and when he regards you, you feel he can see through your eyes and into whatever it is that made you kill that man.

He lifts his arm not on the reins, bloodied axe held in his hand and slowly, with the same terrifying grin still on his lips, the King points towards you and grants you a curt bow of his head. If it’s a recognition of your kill, a promise to kill you himself, or something else, you cannot know.

You scurry back to the woods, fearing an axe to your back that never comes.

____

Whatever advantage the Christians were so sure to have quickly dissolves like mist, and within days the Vikings push forward with no regard for the lines your people or your unwanted masters wanted to protect.

There’s three injured men under your care when you hear the warning that a group of enemies is coming your way. A quick glance towards Galla, the childhood friend that followed you from Eleusis into this cold hell lets her know what to do.

Her dark eyes fill with understanding before you can even utter a word.

“Lift them up, we are retreating.” She barks at the other soldiers, bow held tightly in her hand betraying her fear, her pain. The men accompanying her hesitate, looking at you for a second before turning to her.

“I may not be able to fight like a Strategus, but I can distract them enough for you to run.”

“Our people…” One of them starts, but you interrupt with a shake of your head, reaching forward with a courage you do not believe to truly possess and take his sword from its holster.

“Our people live on in you,” You promise, and even as your voice wavers you still try not to show how fear grips at your throat or how unbalanced you are with the new weight in your hands. Galla’s eyes lock with yours, and you give her a nod, “Go.”

I pray you find Sieghild on your way out of this slaughter.

“You better make it out alive.” She threatens in good will, and you find yourself smiling. Just before she is to take off with the others, you call out.

“Galla,” You hesitate, feeling like asking to deploy this would be an acceptance of your death. Still, you take a deep breath and say, “Once the dust settles, send some of your people to Thebes, Constantinople and Sparta.”

“What for?” She asks, but in her tone you can hear she understands your words: she is to protect your people, she is to lead them. Because you will not be alive to do so.

“You’ll need spies. When the time comes, you’ll know what to do with them.” You sentence, and after a moment of hesitation you hear the girl’s footsteps fading behind you.

Galla’s hoarse yells in Greek to call your people to retreat become the rhythm at which you let loose arrows to find the Viking warriors. You tell yourself it’s just like hunting deer, you tell yourself it is not men and women you kill. Brothers, sisters, friends, fathers, mothers, sons, daughters.

You tell yourself it is just like hunting, but the tears clogging at your throat and making pain and rage accompany your moves as you let the arrows loose show you that you don’t believe your own lies.

It doesn’t matter how fast you move, how efficient your shots are, there will always be more of them. And you know this, and fear has a cold grip on your heart, even as you continue trying to take out any straggler that chases after the retreating Greeks.

So, the bodies dropping and the injured yells bring the attention to you, and you buy Galla and the others as much time as you have arrows and legs to run on.

Running helps when the Vikings can be distracted by something else, but after you took down some of his countrymen, this warrior seems to only have eyes for you. You scramble to lift the sword you took from your warrior before they took off, and, cornered as you are, you are forced to face the offending Viking.

The Viking strikes first, but you block his attack with the sword. The blunt force of his swing makes it so that the axe stops just shy of the intended blow to your head, opening a deep cut on your forehead as it is slowed by the sword.

Wincing past the pain you hold your ground, facing the hungry gaze of the warrior with your own, although you are forced to close one of your eyes as the blood from the cut in your forehead starts dripping down your face.

The man’s attack has failed, but he smirks, though, before wrenching the weapon from your hands with a twist of his axe.

You can do nothing but stumble back, you Goddess’ name on your lips as you face him with wide eyes.

He mutters something in his own language before discarding your sword and moving to strike again. This time you are defenseless, and can only step back and try and dodge his continuous blows with increasing panic.

Blood, probably his own and his enemy’s, stains his mouth, his face, his hands. He still smiles, and you wonder if bloodthirst becomes more literal than what Sieghild explained in her tales of her people.

His movements stop suddenly, though, and he falls limply to the ground, a small axe protruding from the back of his head.

“I told you you’d need to know how to fight, little one,” Sieghild boasts as she approaches you. The axe leaving the dead man’s skull makes a horrible sound, but she’s not bothered by it, choosing instead to say, “Even you Greeks must see the advantage of fighting like a Viking.”

An arrow in his knee, you feel the iron piercing the muscle, the bone, the tendons. The edge of the shield breaking the bones in his face, the sound it makes. Screams of pain, that you silence with another arrow in the eye.

The King’s hungry smile when he spared you.

You shake your head, returning your thoughts back to the moment, and regard the woman in front of you with a smile.

“Galla told me you chose to stay behind.” She states, and years knowing her let you know of the reprimand shining past the gruff tone. Her hand, bloodied as it is, reaches for the cut in your forehead, inspecting it with the eyes of someone that saw countless wounds and fought in countless wars.

“I wanted to distract the warriors from the path they took.” You offer in explanation.

“For someone so…small you sure take a lot of risks, my child.” She sighs. You’re about to answer when the thrumming of the ground underneath your feet stops you. Sieghild’s movements stop, your breath dies in your lungs.

Bees swarming. You remember an Arab merchant telling you about Varangian armies, and he spoke of chaos and deadliness and bloodthirst. And as you watch the Varangians flank the battlefield, archers at the ready, warriors beating their shields, while the King that crossed the sea to assist his brother commands them to hold with a single gesture; you cannot help but think why didn’t the merchant talk about the grace of it all, the beauty in the blood.

“That boy carries his father’s cleverness with him. And his mother’s favor.” Sieghild mutters in the strange calm that settles as Ivar the Boneless and his brothers taunt Stithulf, dare him to continue the fight and face certain death or retreat.

“You knew that before.”

“So did you. You tried to warn Narses against facing him, little one.” She says, and the name makes a pit of guilt and grief form in your heart.

“Maybe my warnings are the reason he is dead now.” You bite out, voice quivering and eyes burning.

The shieldmaiden turns to you, lips parted and eyes wide. You offer her a nod and a tight-lipped smile, a small sign that it is okay, that…that it is Fate.

You promised Narses you’d kill him yourself for sending your people to die, and grief and pain do not stray you from that resolve. He sentenced your people to die at the hands of these Varangians, it is only right he leads them to the Underworld.

It doesn’t help the pit of pain and absence and fear and cold that forms at your chest, but…but it makes it easier to burden.

Murmured words in Norse startle you out of your thoughts, and you find Sieghild’s eyes still on you, expression still stunned and in a mix of awe and terror.

“When the last of the chains of nostalgia fades away even as she clutches it in her arms.”

“What did you say, mother?” You ask, taking a small step closer and looking into her eyes searching for any answer.

But the shieldmaiden is quick to put on a smile on her face,

“You told me before you had no interest in what Lady Freyja has to tell me, little one.” She mocks, but there’s a shadow in her expression, a strange darkness looming behind her eyes.

A familiar one.

“You are the one that taught me-…”

“I taught you to be your own woman!” The Varangian roars, and for the first time you realize exactly the kind of fire the women from her homeland have, that made them capable and free. “I taught my daughter better than this!”

“What choice do I have? We need the support from Narses’ army, we need someone to lead the men into battle the way I know will grant us victory!”

Two long strides, and the tall and imposing shieldmaiden is standing before you, a mix of reluctant softness and angry stoicism in her inked face.

“You fight. You fight against the notions these men have about you, you fight against that boy that only listens to what you have to say when you promise him love in exchange,” Her green eyes burn into yours, “You fight, little one. That’s what I taught you to do, what you were born to do.”

“Narses is a good man, mother. I will not fight him.” You reply, as calmly as you can even as your chest caves under a strange pressure, as evenly as you can even if the words leaving your lips taste like lies.

“You wouldn’t give your love without a fight though, minn dóttir.” Her hand grasps at your chin, and there’s a strange storm in her gaze, “I won’t lose my daughter to that boy’s whims.”

“I am not lost to any man.”

Her lips curve into a smile, a little savage, a little Viking.

“I know. You are my daughter, after all.”

“He was a good man, mother.” You offer quietly, and even if the binds to Narses, the binds you set on yourself and your mother hated the most, are gone, there’s still the same dark desperation, that same stubbornness you saw in her eyes that day you told her about your choice to marry him.

“Not good enough,” Is all she replies, and her eyes focus somewhere past the two of you, on the center of the battlefield where everything seems to have stopped. Sieghild sighs, “And your Gods and mine know that, little one. Your Mistress may have touched your soul, but Freyja lays claim to your heart.”

With your eyes on the thick of battle, you watch Stithulf and his trusted men lay down their weapons, and slowly retreat. You have been defeated.

____

“I told you only death would follow,” You say, your back against the foot of a table as you sit on the cold ground, your bloodied hands in your lap, motionless. You allow yourself a small laugh, manic and broken as it is, “You fought for so long, sacrificed so much, and you couldn’t even make the Varangian King bleed.”

You followed the Saxons back to their decadent city, and now sit past their walls awaiting the death that will follow. The city may have held for long enough that the Saxons could secure an escape, back when your people were with them and they didn’t have more corpses than soldiers.

But now, now it is just a matter of time before the Varangians return to finish it all.

Stithulf turns to you, cold fury shining past his gaze, but you hold his stare. The man walks over to you, armor rustling and making a sound that rings in the ears that have heard nothing but war for so long now.

He bends down to be at your level, face close to yours and lips set on a snarl.

“You ordered your people to pull back.” He accuses, but you shrug in response.

The pretense of what a good little fucking woman you ought to be to make these fools content with their idea of supremacy is long gone from your mind. You will die without masks, and if it means earning a few deserved hits from these Saxons for not shutting your mouth, then so be it.

“It was never our war, Christian.”

“Where have they gone to!?” He asks, ignoring your words. His fascination with how the Greek forces work shines through his bloodthirst and anger as he regards you. You know the reason why he went to Narses for an allegiance in the first place is because of the tactics, the fighting style, of your people; and you know he longed to make them a part of his own army.

But you will leave your own under the boot of a Christian the day Persephone calls for your soul to become one of her Furies.

“You will never find them.” You promise through a tired and battle-worn smile, morbidly delighting yourself in the way he seems to grow more enraged.

“How are you so certain?”

“The Varangians, Vikings, will find us first. They will kill us all, and you know this.” You sentence, standing up. You cannot help it when your eyes fixate themselves on the drying blood staining your hands.

You wish you could say most of it was Christian, or even Varangian.

But no, the blood of Greeks stains your hands. The blood of thousands, even if only less than eight hundred died today.

“And why are you so certain?”

“If you had retreated before that King came from across the sea-…”

“Narses told us your mother is Viking, how are we certain you did not plan this, plan to betray us?” One of his trusted men speaks out, limping from his place by the war table. You watch the deep and bloodied gash in his thigh, wondering why that old man survives being incapacitated while in battle but Narses is to fall.

You shake your head mutely before offering him a hollow chuckle.

“Me betraying you would imply I ever faked loyalty for you, or pretended to care for your survival.”

“You live, witch. Any sane man would question why.”

“You think…what? That I have helped any of the sons of Ragnar defeat you?” You let out a small laugh. “No, I did not. I will not let you blame me for your own weakness.”

You move to leave the tent, but Stithulf’s hand wraps around your arm. His voice is low when he speaks.

“If you tell your soldiers to fight with us, I can-…”

“I am not Narses, you cannot fool me with empty promises,” You interrupt, wrenching your arm from his grasp. Less than two hundred Greek warriors still remain in this city, and the Saxon wants still for every last drop of their blood. “The Greeks that remain here will not die quietly, but do not fool yourself into thinking you can ever command them.”

He stalks even closer, looming over you with enraged factions, and you cannot help the pang of fear that the murderous intent in his eyes sends through you.

His sword leaving its holster startles the room of men into silence, and you feel their attention set on the two of you. The blade finds a home right under your chin, piercing mildly at the soft skin.

Your breath quickens in fear, and when you swallow past your dry throat you feel the tip of the sword inflicting sharp pain in your neck.

Stithulf smiles darkly, “I could kill you now and leave them leaderless, heathen.”

But you refuse to let him see the fear in your eyes, instead promising, “Make me a martyr and you will not survive the night, Christian. The Greeks will kill and die for me.”

Even as you leave the tent behind, you hear the heavy footsteps of the Saxon behind you. A call of your name, and you stop. Not your title -Anassa, Hiereiai-, not an insult -heathen, pagan-, not your lineage -Daughter of Athens, Daughter of Sparta-. Your name.

“If you wanted to kill me you would have done so in front of your men.” You state without turning around, and the Christian reaches your side with his sword holstered.

“I don’t want to kill you,” He insists, shaking his head, “But I should do it regardless. You are a smart woman, which makes you dangerous.”

Not even a muzzle would keep your next words from leaving your lips, “Dangerous? Is a man dangerous for being knowledgeable?”

“If he has nothing to lose, like you, yes.”

“What are you saying, Stithulf?”

The Saxon sighs, an act of regret and humanity you don’t believe for a moment.

“I’m saying you should know that you have forced my hand, Greek, that I had every intention to have you wage war alongside us, had you chosen to do so.

_____

Hi, I’m kinda amazed you got this far down lol, but thank you so much for reading! This is one of the first projects in a while that I am really loving to write, and I hope you like it!

Please let me know what you think, I am one needy fuck when it comes to feedback :)

[heleizition]

I am just now finding out about your chosen one au and must know more

ok so i decided to copy paste everything i wrote to my friends when talking about it so its gonna be long Oups ... but it's the most complete ill ever be about it !

so this is set in a universe where gods, old and new are very present and usually they have humans serving them, regularly called chosen ones, every century or so. it's considered an honor and every sanctuary and gods have different missions for their chosen ones and it can go from taking care of the temple every week while being allowed to have their own life to go on a mission to erradicate evil. humans usually know that they are destined to be taken in by gods because of marks on their body, specific to the god(s) they'll serve. the mark starts to glow and guide them to where their god is waiting for them once the god decides they want them.

the story is set on an island stuck between two different temples. on the island stands gotham which is a strangely sunny city,  and then you have the deep sea in the bay, and the deep forest north of gotham. if gotham is mysteriously devoid of bad things, its because it's been giving every century a child to the old gods temple in the deep forest. and time is coming, soon, another one will go.

so here you have the wayne family, they mostly have the same backgrounds ? kind of ? cass's parents were mercenaries that went into the deep forest, where no one (haha) in gotham dares going due to fear of breaking the old gods protections, never came back, and left cass on her own in town. bruce adopted her. dick's parents were travelers on a ship that sailed not far from the island and while they did not survive, the gods in the deep see allowed dick to stay alive until he reached the coast. immm not quite sure of what happened to jason's parents yet but uh he's here and alive woo

damian is a bit of a mystery to most people. he was delivered to bruce's doorstep when he was only a few days old. what they dont know is that nine months earlier bruce went into the deep forest himself. 

so added to that is timothy drake. young boy of the drake family, the two parents who dont seem to care for him much. the boy is quiet but full of smiles and affection to give and when jason and cass drag him to the wayne estate after a day out, bruce opens his arms to him. he's a regular at the wayne house and a few days after he turns 11, he stops showing up. bruce's kids cant find him. the drakes dont seem disturbed by their missing son. and bruce knows the drakes by now, know they wouldnt give their affection to someone they knew would disappear, and bruce realises tim is gone, to the old gods in the deep forest. 

so tim, 11, wakes up sweating and his room lit up with a green light that he's never seen before but in dreams and he knows that it's time. he knows that this strange mark spreading across his back, shaped like a dragon, is glowing green. he's being called.

he moves by himself, not thinking, opens the door to his room and the one that leads outside and it's so fitting when he notices that his parents arent even home, that he'd leave without them caring. soon he's reaching the deep forest and for the first time in his life, when looking at the dark depth, he's not scared, and he walks on. 

tim walks and walks and there are eyes looking at him bu the soft green glow reassures him, and he knows where he should walk, and soon he's reaching a temple, strong stone and green plants and a setting sun carved on its floor, and there is a man - a god ? - walking out. and his eyes are glowing green like the mark he knows is glowing in his back, but it feels wrong, and when tim looks around again everything looks so much hostile, 

tim made researches on the deep forest temple, since he knew it was gonna be his future, and he knew that temple was supposed to host old gods who were dying, so why does it feel so wrong ?

tim approaches, despite himself, and waits for the man - god??? - to say anything. there is a hand, wrinkly and uncomfortable and cold, on his cheek, and tim looks up, and he's shivering when the god - he knows hes a god. he knows he is now. - speaks up.

"i am ra's al ghul. you were given to me to serve me. you will obey me in any way i see fit, and you are to never return to your human town." 

tim did make researches before he was taken. he knew that usually the child taken by the deep forest gods could travel to town without punishment. he knew that, with pattern, they were taken early, before they turned fifteen. he knew that he would most likely be lucky, have a mostly free life. he didnt know that a new god in quest of power had taken over, chained some of the old gods inhabiting the temple, killed others, simply for power and magic. he didnt know that he would be chained to a scary and cold temple, with a terrifying and powerful god that could turn him to dust on a whim. 

so thats basically,,, the intro ? the first part ?

so a few months after tim disappeared, it was jasons turn. 

jason, much like tim, had marks on his wrists and arms, long lines following his limbs. they're signs of being of the all caste temple, chosen one for those gods. for the ones in the deep sea. now these humans linked to temple in the sea are a bit different than the kind that tim was supposed to be. the all castes purpose is protection, and while there always is a human chosen for them, they're not always called for their purpose, in fact, no all caste chosen one had been guided to the temple in the deep see in generations.

however, one day, jason woke up, glowing white lines on his arms, told dick that he had to go to the sea, and disappeared for months.

jason doesn't remember going into the sea when he wakes up in the temple, doesnt know how he survived the journey there, but he's there, by the will of the gods, and he's informed of his purpose.

something hover over the island. something bad. it's already there, its root in the islands ground, and it must be killed. that will be jason's purpose. he doesnt know where. he doesnt know when. he knows it will happen.

so they train him. they give him the weapons and magic he will need to defeat the enemy. they want to protect the island and its inhabitant.

several months later, jason leaves again, with new knowledge and strength, and washes up on the beach, and dick finds him, unconscious. he brings him back to the wayne estate, where he tells his tale of sea gods and protection and prophecy where he is the hero.

years pass. its been about nine years since tim disappeared, since jason went to the sea temple for the first time. damian is 16 and damian wants answers from his father. he knows he's from the deep forest. he knows his mother is there. he wants to meet her, he wants to know her. but bruce never talks about her, never says anything about their meeting, like he was commanded not to, and damian decides to go against all beliefs he has grown with and he prepares. he will get in the forest. he will find his mother.

except jason know his little brother and he knows and sees him planning and on the night he leaves, jason is here, not stopping him, but ready to follow him into the forest. he has a feeling. something is there for him too .

so they travel in the forest, they're not really sure how to find damian's mother with how little bruce ever said about her, and they find creatures along the way, some of them recognize damian as one of their kin, which is how they realise damian's mother is either part god or part spirit, and jason as a god's messenger. they do not guide them, but they do not attack them. 

until they walk into a territory they feel they shouldnt have walked into

a small being with wings and claws attacks, telling them to not trespass, it's smaller than jason had been at 14, but it's furious and cold and it strikes right. and when jason finally looks up he's terrified to see that he recognizes the child in front of him. and its wrong, because tim should have been nineteen by now, but he doesnt look older than 15. 

finally the fight draws to a close when jason calls out for tim, a name he musnt have heard a lot, or not recently, not with care and not without an order behind it. tim stops. tim looks. he recognizes the boys in front of them, even if its been nearly ten years. after all they were two of the last humans he ever saw.

"you cant be here. you cant be here if he knows he will kill you and i cant let you die. please you need to go"

im not quite sur how they get tim to follow, or if they get in ra's territory, but they camp in a safe zone with tim, and tim tells them his story

[torture mention, non consensual body modification]

after ra's took him, he tortured him, he experimented on him. after all he was his first ever human tribute, to obey and be controlled at will, a toy for an immortal, and after many games of the new god, he settled on making tim a sentinel for his property, one that will age slowly and wont feel pain, a puppet with no strings but one that is scared of ra's power, enough that it will obey. jason and damian are Angry. something at the back of jason's head tells him that this ra's might have something to do with his own prophecy. 

so after that its more blurry but tim reacts strangely to damian, he's a bit scared of him and he figures out it's bc of his heritage, that he has links to ra's, and he leads them to talia who's half god half spirit and hidden deeper and deeper in the forest, away from her father, and it makes tim leave the territory he's supposed to guard, disobey ras, which makes ra's angy bc tim never disobey, not since the first few times when he was 12/13 and thought he would still get out,,,

so there is a bit of a final showdown w tim talia jason and damian facing ra's, ra's using his hold on tim to hurt him, and talia torn between her father and her son + tim who she's seen grow up from far away and who she feels she should have protected from ra's,, jason eventually has a one on one with ra's and the prophecy does happen and he kills ra's and angry old gods who were chained in the temple wake up and banish ra's soul from this realm.

they heal tim from whatever ra's did to him, with the promise that he will travel to care for the god's temple again, as his duty was supposed to be 

they all get back to gotham, tim still looks 15 but will grow to his real age within a few months, he has many scars and the mark on his back changed for a setting sun like what was carved on the temple's entrance, damian has his Mom, and jason is free from his all caste duty.

the end woooo this is over 2k long rip !! feel free to ask if u got more questions :0 !!

[icecreamkink]

so i watched cobra kai all in two days and i have so many -

this show has so many cool and smart angles to it, but the same time.... its so stupid oh my god everyone is so dumb literally mr miyagi held all of the braincells in this whole universe 

like i am but at the same time i am not surprised it was made like this, bc in hindsight of course there were hordes of ppl simping over johnny lawrence ....  but it still amuses me that this is like... an Actual Official Thing

ok this will get long so cut it is

how much fun this cast has is super visible and i love it

i rly enjoy how the world was expanded ! i did grow up watching the karate kid movies, so watching how they progressed the world of the movies so organically was pretty cool. it rly feels like its the same universe

i fucking LOVE stories that are largely about a Thing. dancing ,skating, sports its just so thrilling to experience this all consuming relationship people can have with this type of activity? and martial arts are just that much more intense, so yeah, grown ass men kicking each other around at the lightest provocation and a war veteran caring so much abt teen karate is Ridiculous.... but i love it all because thats the intensity i find so thrilling

was kinda surprised with how much im missing mr. miyagi. first because, like everyone is so unhinged jesus christo, it just really throws into relief how much his character grounded the narrative of the movies. but also hes just a really great character

and on that note it rly Gets Me that the show itself aknowledges that and plays that into daniels angst and all the little ways they sorta weave myiagisms into the whole show........ im not getting emotional over this dumb karate dads show OK

related - i really miss hearing ‘daniel-san’ 🥺🥺

ACE DEGENERATE oh god oh no

they really went down the down and out johnny lawrence route huh. like i was always kinda bummed we see kreese choking him and then we never see him again in the movies, and while i love dumpster fire problematic trash himbo ck johnny, its like......................... actually really sad that his life turned out like this fjngn

everytime i hear ‘babes’ and ‘pussy’ i die a little inside. i know thats the point but i am a v cringe easy person, have mercy (ehe)

loved the way they are constantly drawing parallels between johnny and mr. myiagi of all people. hes the handy man of his building that has a bullied kid asking for help and eventually steps up to teach them karate, beats up a bunch of bullies for him, creates a friendship with said kid, estranged from family, drinks his sorrows away, surprisingly one of the least quick to anger characters (which says more about everyone else really but.... Well.), no schemes or ulterior motives hes just tryna vibe here.... oh and ofc magically heals miguel of is asthma apparently. the true disciple.. meanwhile daniel is his usual messy petty self even tho he wants to be mr myiagi so bad 

also interesting about that is how miguels character is a parallel of both johnny and daniel at the same time

overall the parallels in ck are done really well, drawing comparisons and also subverting them constantly. theyre well thought out

THE PARALELOGRAMS

fr tho, the angle being explicitly the cycle of trauma and its effects and how trumatized adults in turn traumatize kids, maliciously or not, is so interesting

but! on the flip side of that, it feels like the writers are getting in their own way @ letting the characters grow. especially this last season. theres only so many times you can do "johnny and daniel are getting along but 5mins later they are (literally) fighting over some dumbass random issue" or "johnny puts in 20% of effort with robby and then gives up" before it gets on your nerves yknow?

i see daniel no longer talks like macchio ingested 15 shots of espresso before every take and idk how to feel about that tbh

interesting tension in daniel, as in, in tkk mr miyagi was there and daniel was frankly, kind of a lil shit, this messy petty spitfire hot tempered sassy kid,(johnny lawrence voice: just... stop being so annoying) but now hes the adult, and he wants to be mr. miyagi... but hes just not, and never will be to his very core and it shakes him and in a way hes trying to find who he is now that he sees himself in a position to be a not! cobra kai figure. i kinda really like that 

plus how that relates to his cobra kai trauma. idk if the writers thought abt it Like That, i think so, but in any case, its interesting bc it seems like daniel has told everyone whod listen about johnny lawrence his Pretty Boy Karate Rival and high school and 84 cobra kai... But. no one seems to know what went on in 85 (or 86? idk) which was just so much worse

like ye og cobras were shitheads, but tkk iii is just two hours of daniel being emotionally and physically tortured. 

like, the third movie is.............chaotic, to put it nicely, and many people ignore it, but the writers clearly didnt. daniels actions are, in a way, responding so much more to the events of tkk iii than to the first movie ie. johnny himself, AND. daniel doesnt rly seem to have dealt with that trauma? he never told sam? doesnt feel like hes ever told amanda? he doesnt even say terrys name out loud? freaks Out over kreese ? the way he reacts to robbys deceit? his FACE when he walks past the new "fear does not exist in this dojo" paint or kreeses photo? hmMm i sense Pain

his fashion tho........... disappointing. where are the flower shirts daniel huh we had one (1) shirt what a tragedy STOP WEARING SUITS ALL THE TIME . also the band ts/grunge bi are a look for johnny but part of me longs for the preppy lovable 80s bully chic johnny lawrence getups

weird that they never used that last moment of karate kid where johnny kinda... snaps out of his anger and hands daniel the trophy almost in tears. like “youre alright larusso, good match” “thanks a lot”  that being their last direct interection seems like itd be perfect fruit for cobra kai but... they just dont. weird. 

especially when, the FIRST SCENE they see each other, suposedly in 30+ years, the first thing to come out of daniels mouth is QUOTE "u still got those golden locks huh?" WHO SAYS SHIT LIKE THAT DANIEL FUCKING SAN 

also amandas immediate reaction "your pretty boy rival?" like. can we talk about the fact that daniel had to have imparted to his wife the very important information that his high school bully/karate rival was like Really Cute and Fucking Hot Actually

 the writers Knew exactly what they were doing and honestly.............. power to them

tkk director voice: and billy was just so cute  

also I was thinking that daniel sounded strangely fond in that first scene, and i wonder if he developed a weird affection for johnny on the grounds that of all of his Karate Rivals johnny was actually the only one who didn’t actively tried to literally kill him

i was actually delightedly surprised with how great the chemistry between them is, like from the get go i am Invested. their rl friendship totally bleeds through and its fantastic

. granted, idiots enemies to lovers friends is my Thing so i am biased  

johnny lawrence: i am down in the dumps, i fucked up my whole life and my sons probably, largely in light of the trauma that the father figure sensei and the philosophy of my karate inflicted on me and all my friends. u know what i should do, as a traumatized, unreliable mess of an adult? teach that same philosophy to some other kids! what could go wrong! 

but really i enjoy the setup of it. i kinda like that i watched it late because, season 1 was johnny setting himself up for failure in a way and it was exciting to watch it all go to shit sjfn

Like. his heart might be in the right place, but theres just.... not a way to teach something like ‘strike hard, no mercy’ and not have it fuck up a kid 

case and point: aisha, miguel and hawk become annoying as all hell over that bullshit in the end of s1, even before shit gets truly fucked up

billys subtle panicked eyes when he sees hawk and miguel fighting dirty in the all valley was SO GOOD especially in parallel with the panic that is so visible in his face in the movie when kreese tells bobby to injure daniel and in the sweep the leg scene 

seen people question wether kreese should have returned and i absolutely think he needed to. johnny needed to realize that cobra kais fundamentals are flawed, at the root, beyond kreese himself being a toxic piece of shit 

also who are we kidding? we are here to see the tkk characters play on new playgrounds!

i get what they're doing abt kreeses backstory, ( also. cobra kai. pq eles caem nas cobras djjs sorry) but did it need to take up that much time? feels like they couldve  done it in half the run time and developed some other stories better 

martin kove has such an evil eye. i love it

love that we get a good follow up to kreese breaks johnnys trophy and tries to CHOKE HIM in the parking lot, which happened in the movie and then....................... was never mentioned again

“the gang is all back together again” aaaa u piece of SHIT 

also. terry silver is definetely appearing ha ha ha PAIN i cant wait

seen ppl say kreese was too much of a cartoon villain like..........................oh......... sweetie........... u dont even Know

interested how johnny will fit into that bc kreese was simping rly hard for johnny here. like i did not expect him to be so adamant to have him with cobra kai ... under his control, sure, but he really wants johnny by his side despite already having control of the dojo and how will terry silver self appointed jon kreeses forever simp going to feel abt that? 

like bitchs dropping by every episode like ‘joooooohnny ..... come bacc to me joooonny......... this ur last warning! for real this time johnny! i wont say it again! watch me ! im leaving johnny! im rly leaving ! im dragging a chair” and johnny is just like. dont let the door hit ya bitch it was so funny pls

and on that subject oof, johnny! doesnt! Know! he doesnt get that side of daniels cobra kai trauma. and i kind of.............. cannot wait for ck 2021 johnny lawrence to meet terry silver like. what a shit show i need a front row seat and popcorn (imagine terry tries some greasy charm and johnny just roundhouse kicks him in the teeth bc he just doest Not Have the Patience for This. glorious)

feels like we, as a society, should acknowledge that cobra kai will never die................ bc their sense of design is just chefs kiss. their name is COBRA KAI. they have sexie sleeveless black gis. theyve sneks. colorful leather jackets with embroided naja insignia, the get ppl thru the aesthetics. evil geniuses

the flashback cuts : masterpiece behavior

the other takes!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! of the movie!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! the differente angles!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! of the FIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THE CLOSE UP ON JOHNNYS FACE AT THE KICK 

that scene of daniel and johnny vibing to 80s music in the car. just. oh my god. the fan wish fullfilment. no thoughts head empty.

the new characters! theyre .... good. but. idk. i really like miguel (save for the annoying phase mid s1 - end s2) and amanda, who is a damn riot and has some functioning braincells, but everyone else is       

like dont get me wrong, i dont hate anyone,its not a jane and rafael from jtv situation,  and i am interested and invested in their arcs, but i wouldnt say i like   Like them, as in, personality wise 

like, sams grappling with ptsd was rly gutting and i enjoyed that plus her slight rage issues, 

which nicely parallel torys rage issues. torys background is all over the place tho so im pretty on the fence abt her so far

robby deserves better in every way, and i like how smart and cunning and surprisingly sweet he is

hawk............... is there i guess,

 demetri is annoying in the best way possible,

 carmen is sweet but. i just feel like her character is blunted to make the johnny relationship easier. like when shes furious with him after miguels injury but then forgives him like an episode later? and then convinces him to fight for the tournament bc she had a karate epiphany off screen even tho she was always against it? meh. feels like with the plot thiccening she was swallowed and now shes like a crutch for johnny mora than anything, which is disappointing.

aisha was cool and im kinda mad she wasnt in s3, especially bc a storyline with her tory and sam was like RIGHT THERE , but also... cant say i was super super fond of her... doesnt feel like we ever spent enough time on her

moon the bi icon, 

overall its a good cast but the main draw for me remains the og cast 

the tory/sam miguel/robby Thing. enjoy how theyre Narrative Foils and i like how their stories were so dramatically entangled but oh god give me a break with the teenage love square for the love of god. if u gonna put us through that at least have the decency to not make it so straight

and honestly some sam/tory        miguel/robby romantic tension would even make more sense. just saying! 

also im not sure how i feel abt the cobra kai: red miyagi do: blue theyre going with since some of daniels most iconic looks in tkk are also red. like it was a color they (johnny and him) sorta shared. i get it, opposite but complementary but idk... a little too fire nation and water tribe for me .

 and like the cobra kai kids are so funny abt it bc their outifts grow progressively more ridiculously coordinated. its like do they group chat every morning before leaving their houses? 

robby still sticks out like that tho. he went thru an athleisure/daniel san tsleeves phase and now hes back in the bandts grunge, but his color scheme doesnt fully blend with the other cobra kais. hmmmm.

LOVED LOVED LOVED both the okinawa episode and the cobra kais easy rider episode just such good good heart aching fun

bobby is an icon. he was in tkk and he is now ck hope appears more and more

 tommy is like the most iconic background character. all his lines, freaking gold then and now. sigh :( 

the framing in the okinawa trip was so good everything was so good

i stand by the fact that kumiko was the love interest daniel had the most chemistry with and shes is overall such a joy to watch, loved to see her again, idola, fashion icon

also tkk ii is good u guys are just mean

also really enjoyed chozens role in the episode, his evolution; i love that they introduced the pressure points (ty lee the blueprint) and! the honk + karate! cousins! absolutely iconic

when kumiko reads mr miyagis letters........ oh my god, my eyes FILLED with tears, it was so heart wrenching :(( tamlyns delivery was so emotional and lovely and its so obvious everyone involved in ck has so much love and respect for pat morita and mr miyagi as character, and i adore that it exists like this electric current through the show

when we were watching i told my sister i thought that ali would be miguels big shot surgeon and ngl i am so disappointed that didnt happen. hire me cobra kai writers

also the johnny ali daniel amanda chemistry? off the charts

AND the sassy retconning of daniel and alis breakup! LMAO ‘I HOPE U DIDNT TELL MR MIYAGI IT WAS MY FAULT’ HFDJJGNKFKSD

i am preeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeetty sure back injuries dont work like that    but oke

daniel and johnny are so good together whenever, like they never actually help the kids or get shit done and end up fighting anyway but its just so much fun when theyre hanging

JOHNNY LAWRENCE AND DANIEL LARUSSO FIGHTING TOGETHER

daniels “plan” on how to get robby to juvie was so stupid. literally were u TRYING to make him hate you. dumbass

parents at those hearing rly brave for ppl that did not do ANYTHING as their kids got involved in a karate gang war until now

“bullshit i heard u were the real bully!” i mightve screeched

this s3 ending was SO DRAMATIC omg

everyone is such a MESS go to THERAPY u unhinged motherfckers

also im sorry but uh. a richass neighborhood in california doesnt have some type of neighborhood watch? the larussos rly dont have any security at all? neighbors wont hear the sound of a damn karate brawl happening next door??? also wasnt tory all like ooo i cant go to juvie, my mom yada yada yet shes always running around town getting into fights even at the rich girls house she was kicked out of school for fighting??   ?  ??    ??        ?                ?    ?          ??                  ?    ? girl??

stop destroying the larussos house, its so pretty :((((

sam finding her center looking at mr miyagis picture...  uwu maybe

robby yelling ‘U ARE WEAAK’@  johnny \as he is easily blocking him is like.... so funny and so sad to me. sweetheart. 

also i know it was meant as ‘oh johnny pushes him and HURTS HIM’ but it just looks like robby runs himself into the lockers and IM SO SORRY I FEEL SO BAD BUT IT WAS SO FUNNY 

i like that he and tory are the cobra kai kids now. we need ppl we care abt there to not revert to a good vs evil schtick, and this is the most engaging it could be... tho it hurts that these kids cant catch a break

ah yes "lets bet some real shit on the result of this teen karate tournament bc that is always a great idea" is BACK

so daniel saves johnny from kreese..... maybe johnny will save him from terry 🧐

and dojos unite ohohoho. lets SEE how that’ll work out 

miguels face of Despair when the ck defectors and the md kids are bickering like 'this is never gonna work' : gold

also. Johnny Lawrence is gonna learn some myiagi-do karate AHAAHSJAKDFH

 ive been waiting for this moment all my lifeeee oh lawrd 

final thoughts! there are def things i hope the writers will improve on the next season, but i am very excited for it either way AND i feel like it has made me enjoy the movies even more and that is a win for a reboot/sequel to me!!

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

NEVER WAS THERE A TALE OF MORE WOE, THAN THAT OF OUR JEANNE AND FANGDADDIO 😭😭😭

But alas, I will relay what I read back in the day to the best of my abilities! Spoilers for the end of Jeanne’s route under the cut, rated E (for everyone) for maximum uwus (and M for angst bc F U C K):

Okay so basically Jeanne’s route goes a lot like most of the routes, and when MC gets attacked (by the rival vampire turned by Vlad) our eyepatched wonder is not happy about it. He storms over to Comte’s room and demands to have his questions answered. Comte notes how deathly serious he is and breezes past the enmity, telling him to go ahead and ask whatever he needs to. Jeanne threatens to kill Comte if it turns out that he’s lying about anything from this point forward. To which Comte (being a little shit), replies that he literally can’t die so like ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Jeanne tells him he doesn’t care what it takes; he’ll rend him apart to the tiniest shred over and over and over again--even if it takes them both to the other side to accomplish it. Comte concedes and says “very well; if I lie, you’re welcome to try.” Jeanne finally asks if Comte has made a revival pact with anyone new. Comte is genuinely confused and confesses that he hasn’t--that he has no idea who Jeanne is talking about. “What ‘comrade in arms’???” Jeanne seems to sense that Comte is responding in earnest (but is also confused bc like, then who the fuck else turned the guy??? WHO IS THE THREAT I MUST STAB)

Jeanne admits that MC was attacked and you can feel the change in gravity in milliseconds. Comte starts asking where she is and if she’s okay, and Jeanne explains that she’s still in the mansion and she’s fine. Jeanne then asks if Shakespeare has the ability to turn people like he does, and Comte is bewildered to put it mildly. He’s like ??????? Where is this coming from, of course he doesn’t???? I turned him myself, he’s a lesser vampire--he doesn’t have that ability???? In a moment of sheer livid impatience, Jeanne grabs Comte by the lapels and screams “Then who can!?!?!?!” Comte stares at him and admits that there are only two people that he is aware of who can accomplish such a thing, himself and someone else. They hear a loud crash and they run to the dining room, only to find a window smashed, Mozart wounded, and MC gone. Comte’s furious sprite appears, and he asks Jeanne to look after MC, he has something to take care of. Isaac asks him where on earth he’s going, and he reveals that he’s going to Will’s house before storming out.

Poor Shakespeare faces the brunt of Comte’s rage--though I get the feeling, knowing now that Shakespeare is Vlad’s puppet--that the threat was meant more for Vlad than for Shakey boy. Comte goes to Shakey’s place and Shakespeare offers to put on tea or wine, says it’s strange for him to appear so late. Comte tells him not to bother, since he isn’t here to exchange pleasantries. Shakespeare seems p shocked given Comte isn’t usually one to be so direct or terse, and when Comte walks in he backs Shakespeare into the wall step. By step. By step. He asks him if he was involved in the harm done to MC, and Shakespeare’s like “Yeah lol what’s it to you.” And when their shoes are nearly touching, Comte grabs him by the throat and lifts him off the ground. He tells Shakespeare that if this goes on, he won’t show any mercy: "To those that would harm a single member of my house, I will hunt them to the ends of the earth. To the very depths of hell." The narration notes that he lets go of whatever dampens his pureblood aura and nearly suffocates Shakespeare with his raw intensity and power, before putting him down again and saying “That’s all I have to say. I have no more questions for you.” Comte walks right back out, slamming the door while Shakespeare is on the floor coughing. 

So, needless to say, things are hella rocky between Comte and Jeanne throughout the better part of the route. But given the odd dichotomy of Comte’s reactions (his complete acceptance of Jeanne’s fury versus his own anger being directed at Vlad), it definitely felt like there was more there. Everything finally comes full circle at the end when Comte gathers everyone inside the dining room to explain precisely what happened (Vlad, etc. I’m assuming) and asks everyone to take proper precautions moving forward: "I'll take steps to make sure this never happens again. But if we are faced with a similar situation, know that I am prepared to protect you all with every fiber of my being." He deems secrecy a moot point given this incident, and just wants everyone to be safe and ask for help should they need it in the future. 

MC notes that he doesn’t have his usual placid demeanor; he’s incredibly serious and grave. She’s like “Oh boy some serious shit went down huh...but if anything, I feel like it’s only made us have more faith in his ability to protect us c:” AND HERE IS WHERE THE BIG HURT HAPPENS KIDS GET YOUR TISSUES AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Jeanne: "...Alright. I will trust in your words. But can I ask just one thing?” Comte: “Yes, Jeanne?” Jeanne: "You know I always hated you, I truly believed you revived me against my will for a long time." Comte just sorta deflates, but he doesn’t say anything (MY POOR BABIE) Jeanne: "But, is that really the case? Did I want to live on, away from that pyre...?" [There was a long silence.] Comte: “...That day, when I appeared, you screamed desperately 'Why must I die here. Whether it be God or the devil, someone make use of me!'” Important note: Jeanne tells MC that he is able to recall thinking that, but he has no acute recollection of saying it; this is the moment at which he lost consciousness. MC: [;-; No matter how hard he tried to stifle it, it (his deep wish to live) came out all the same...] I wasn’t able to transcribe it, but Comte essentially tells him that he tried to ask Jeanne, but he was already barely hanging on--there was no way he could get a proper answer. (This is highly plausible given we know that Jeanne was incarcerated by the Inquisition, tortured, and starved before he was tied to that pyre--it was a miracle he lasted that long. He didn’t even have the strength to move/struggle from where he was tied). Comte goes on to say that Jeanne was pissed to shit when he woke up and there was little he could do to alleviate that (I mean given he was waiting for the sweet release of death it makes sense but also N O ;-;). For a while Jeanne just stares at him before asking: Jeanne: “...Why? Why didn’t you tell me after all this time?” Comte: "Because I thought it was okay if you berated me a little." Jeanne (vine voice: AMERICA EXPLAIN): ?????????? Comte: "Despite being alive...you looked dead to the world ever since the day we met. No matter how hard I tried or whatever I did, I couldn't seem to change that. But...the only emotion I seemed to be able to draw out of you was hate. If hatred was the only thing that could move you, I figured I'd take on that role. Better to see you express something than to see you lifeless beyond any glimmer of hope or change." Jeanne: "Why....why would you go that far?? Why did you bother? I don't...understand" BECAUSE HE HAS SO MUCH LOVE TO GIVE AND HE LOVES YOU I’M SOBBING ALL OVER AGAIN OKAY DEEP BREATHS THE SHOW MUST GO ON MINNIE Comte: "Because I'm the one that revived you...because to me, you're all my precious family." Jeanne: "...............................................................I...I'm sorry" AND JEANNE HANGS HIS HEAD WAAAAAAAAAAAH Comte’s brows rise: “...Jeanne?” Jeanne: "I know an apology doesn't forgive everything I did/said. But I don't know how else to make amends"

It goes on to show them all making amends, and while Jeanne can sometimes be like “ughghhghgh d a d stop nagging I’m fINE” he secretly really loves the guy. In Jeanne’s third bday story he’s literally like [Comte’s a weirdo but I see now that that's just how he cares abt me. He's not just worldly, he's a good guy. c: I just don’t care abt whatever he’s going on abt rn]

So like full disclosure before Jeanne’s route I still loved Comte but I really didn’t know much about him beyond the “eccentric nobleman persona.” Granted we definitely get glimpses into who he really is, but this was a sizeable breakthrough. (And probably a strong allusion to the release of Comte’s MS soon after.) That being said, there were so many things said here that just absolutely shattered my heart. 

Because here’s the thing. I have no qualms with Comte’s wish to be a dad--or even to revive the men, for that matter. If it makes him happy and he intends to take care of them reasonably well, then who am I to criticize him? (Fun fact: Leonardo essentially says the same exact thing; he’s more against it than I am because of the whole turning humans, but he doesn’t necessarily vilify Comte because he knows his intentions are good. And if everyone’s happy with it, what can he say?) But the fact that Comte handles their issues with so much patience and maturity...I’m in love???? There is sincerely nothing sexier than this for me. He’s fully aware that Jeanne was treated like absolute shit by the people he tried to protect, that he never really got to live for himself a single day in his life--never knew a moment’s peace, joy, or appreciation. He tries everything he can think of to get Jeanne to maybe not hate being alive as much, but fails at every turn. He still refuses to give up on the guy despite the less than ideal state of things, and decides that if Jeanne needs an enemy to survive--he will be that enemy. He doesn’t care that the guy he’s trying to help would skewer him the second he had his back turned (Jeanne pls this was a new suit couldn’t this wait). He takes full responsibility for deciding to turn him; knows that since he erred on the side of caution, it’s up to him to offer a life that’s worth keeping/staying alive for. He doesn’t belittle Jeanne’s plight for a moment, never deems him stupid or shortsighted. He’s able to understand that in the wake of so much pain and loss, of course Jeanne might not notice the finer points of Comte’s attempts to cheer him up. Even if it pains him to be on negative terms (HE LOVES HIS BOY HE DOESN’T WANT TO FIGHT) he will fully accept it if it brings Jeanne peace, if it helps Jeanne get to a place where he can begin to accept the affection he wants to offer.

And THAT’S what kills me, kids. Four hundred years, and Comte fucking LEARNED something. He is perceptive to uncanny degrees, and never fails to read a room in milliseconds; not only does he pick up on how people feel, he responds with appropriate, gentle measures. What I love so much about Comte is that he knows full well that genius does not come without its price. You could be the smartest person on earth, the most talented, whatever you choose to call it, but it will invite no shortage of hatred from other people, no shortage of misunderstanding and disdain and violence. If people don’t go mad with power, they are destroyed by the very places that birthed them. As such, the last thing he wants to do is put them under more pressure, or force them to do things against their will; he just wants to give them a chance to live beyond such fickle and hostile circumstances. And he takes this seriously, this isn’t remotely a whim for him despite all evidence to the contrary. He gets that healing takes time, and as much as he wants everyone to be happy he’s more than willing to give them space/resources to figure it out. Like. He is the father everybody DREAMS they had (if they didn’t already have a good one) and the fact that I can’t tell him what a wonderful job he’s doing is killing me on all levels INCLUDING physical.

And I just?????? Jeanne’s palpable remorse when he finds out????? And Comte’s surprise???????? Like Comte wasn’t necessarily expecting that level of apology, he knew he was taking a gamble and he was ready to do whatever he had to, he wasn’t intending to hold it against his boy. But Jeanne just has such a tender and well-meaning heart (no matter how much he struggles to express it) that regret was inevitable. There’s just so much love in that moment, in Comte’s capacity to forgive and take on so much of poor Jeanne’s unhappiness, and Jeanne’s fully ability to admit he was misguided, lower his head, and apologize. THEY JUST GET ME BLUBBERING LIKE A THREE YEAR OLD OKAY THEY ARE BOTH SO IMPORTANT TO ME AND I HURT

Tl;dr: JEANNE’S ROUTE SHOT ME FORTY-SEVEN TIMES IN THE CHEST AND LEFT ME PINING FOR COMTE MORE THAN EVER BEFORE OTL

Also a bonus, because it only just occurred to me (spoilers from the end of Comte’s route):

THEY HAVE A LEGIT REVERSAL AT THE END OF COMTE’S ROUTE???? Comte once again gathers everyone to reveal Vlad’s identity and intentions, and he apologizes for keeping it from everyone, lowering his head. He’s more than ready to face everyone’s ire for keeping secrets, but everyone’s just like “dad pls lift your head it’s okay, we’re just glad we can help you now--you don’t have to carry it all on your own.” AND IT IS IN FACT, JEANNE, THAT ALSO SAYS “No need to bow like that Comte, aren't you the one always saying we're family?" AND WHEN I TELL YOU I WAS IN A PUDDLE OF TEARS?????? I WILL NEVER BE OKAY. POOR COMTE WAS SO MOVED AND MY HEART CAN’T TAKE HAVING THIS KNOWLEDGE WHERE’S MY HANKIE. JEANNE. BEING THE ONE. TO SAY. “Aren’t we family?” WHEN HEARING HOW HARD COMTE WAS WORKING TO PROTECT THEM, BC HE 100% IDENTIFIES WITH THE STRUGGLE OF LOOKING AFTER PEOPLE THAT DON’T KNOW/CARE THAT SOMEBODY ELSE IS THE SACRIFICE FOR THEIR PEACE OF MIND. I--

WHAT IS IT THAT JEANNE AND COMTE SHARE TO THE CORE, SO MUCH THAT JEANNE WOULD NEED NO OTHER EXPLANATION TO CHANGE HIS MIND AFTER YEARS OF BITTER DISDAIN???????? THEIR CAPACITY FOR DEVOTION, THEIR EASY WILLINGNESS TO SACRIFICE ANYTHING TO PROTECT A LIFE. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA THIS EPIPHANY IS GOING TO BE THE DEATH OF ME

I’m crying rn I just: Comte: !!!!!!! Somebody who gets it!!! :DDD Jeanne: die. Comte:  Comte: ;-; understandable have a nice day

[rpbetter]

someone i rp with keeps sharing hcs about my own muses that don't fit with what i believe and every time i say i don't agree with that, that my hc about that situation is "whatever", they get kinda sulky, but its usually over small things like 'your muse has no fashion sense' and not big stuff (which i did shut down the second time they did bc it almost triggered me) so i don't know how to address the pattern without sounding like a bitch

Oh, no...I'm sorry to hear that, Anon! That is an uncomfortable situation right there!

I'm going to go ahead and preface the bad part here - if they're sulky about you correcting them like you've said, there is a high chance you're going to sound like a bitch to them. No matter what you do, I mean. No matter the reality of how politely you've addressed it, if they're viewing this in a negative light already, that's unlikely to change. They want to keep doing what they're doing, do not see the problem with it, and apparently, don't care how uncomfortable it is for you. Unfortunately probable that shutting them down is not going to be received well.

Just be aware that, while I'm going to try to combat that specifically in this suggestion, it is possible that it's going to happen anyway. Know that addressing it is the right choice regardless! The way you're feeling is not okay, it needs to be addressed, and preferably before they do make you so uncomfortable and frustrated that you stop caring about how you come off to them. In the end, the variable in how one is perceived is important, and that variable is always the person on the other end and their particular attitude, biases, and so forth. At some point, you have to say that you approached it reasonably, maturely, and politely...the rest is up to them, out of your hands.

What I'm saying is that if they want to be pissed off at you and take it the wrong way? You did your best, you're not being a bitch, and you have a right to have an issue with this behavior of theirs. If they freak out about it, they're someone you're better off losing.

Alright, so, since it's expressly part of the concern you have that you don't want to sound bitchy, let's try to concentrate on that!

A good way to subvert that idea is to try to make it clear how this is making you feel. Make this the basis of why it is a problem. Remain positive sounding but honest about it.

So, let's say, you want to say something like, "it really pisses me off when you make stupid headcanons about my character, you're making me so fucking uncomfortable with this, stop." True, but not positive. Likely to make them defensive and to hurt their feelings (as it's also possible that they're doing this because they want to be really into your character and you, despite all the full irony of clearly not knowing jack about your character).

Instead, try something like this:

"Hey! I need to talk to you about something." If they're not online currently, consider adding a respectful, "It's important, so, I'm going to just leave it for you to respond to whenever you have time. Hope that's alright, I'm not trying to stress you out or anything!"

- Then, you can proceed to the problem.

"I really appreciate that you are so into my muse that you want to create headcanons for them, that's a nice thought. It's a problem for me, though. I don't want this to come off the wrong way, which is why I haven't said much about this before. I'm sorry if I gave you the impression that it was something I was comfortable with, I was just worried about hurting your feelings."

- Even if you don't entirely feel this way, you're not lying...this was a concern, you didn't want to come off hateful to them, a thing undoubtedly making you even more uncomfortable, putting you in a worse position. By phrasing it in a way like this, you're heading off ideas about being unappreciative (of something you didn't want lol I know, but people have weird ideas) and callous. Instead, expressing concern for how they feel and appreciation that they're this interested in your muse and being a part of your creativity - we just want them to keep it to the threads, and, hopefully, they're not also into godmoding.

"It is really uncomfortable for me, though. This is my muse, I'm pretty invested in them, and I don't want other people writing their headcanons. They've been inaccurate before, and at least once, I did have to say something to you because it was close to triggering for me. It's not always that serious, but it can be offensive in some of the ways these headcanons are inaccurate. Those are important parts of my muse, no matter how small or silly seeming they are. It's a little hurtful, and I'm not going to lie, makes me a bit upset to think that you don't care when I've tried to talk to you about this before."

- Alright, you've told them how you feel, but were not hateful about it. Now, give them the desired outcome and more honesty, avoid coming off as giving them an ultimatum - even if you are. Because you absolutely are, just politely.

"Anyway, I appreciate having you as a writing partner and am happy that you are interested in my muse, but I can't feel this uncomfortable all the time. I think maybe we just weren't addressing it as directly as we should have been? Sorry again if I wasn't clear enough or anything. Could you please stop writing these headcanons? If there is a headcanon topic you are interested in, I would love to write it, just let me know next time and I'll do that! We can create things together that way, and in what we're writing together. Otherwise, I really do need to be the one doing the development on my muse to feel comfortable. I hope you understand!"

- You've said a couple of times politely that you need them to stop this, if it doesn't stop, they'll have to go, while reiterating this is personal comfort problem for you. You appreciate what they're trying to do here, but it's got to stop. There is an acceptable alternative that has been offered in having them send you a topic for a HC instead, as well as a reminder that you are involved in creating something together in your interactions.

Just, you know, make it sound like you, not me! Take those points and write them out in your own way, use it for inspiration as to how to discuss this.

Now, either they're going to stop...or they're not. Them being kind of "whatever" about you having an issue with this is concerning. As in, I think they're likely to not stop it. However, you've at least laid down the problem, offered solutions, and told them it's not a situation you're willing to continue dealing with. So, if/when they do it again, you can feel a bit better about either dropping them or messaging them with a, "hey, we've talked about this, it isn't cool. If you do this again, that's it. I'll have to unfollow." They've made their choice, you're not the one in the wrong here.

Total honesty, Anon? I'd be annoyed enough to drop them at this point lol so you already have more patience than I do!

Yeah, they're not unlikely to feel you're being "controlling," but that's outrageous. Look, it's your muse. That means your muse to create and/or develop as you, and only you, see fit. Other muns and muses can/do/should contribute to our characters' development, but they don't do it by overstepping like this mun is. They do it with conversations you have together about the muses and by writing with you, not by writing your muse for you.

I think, sometimes, muns feel strangely entitled to a muse because we're so used to picking up the fiction of others and running with it (canon muses and universes, fic, fanart, etc.). Don't ask me why anyone would think it was appropriate to rewrite what you've either picked up in this way or created entirely yourself lol it's just an observance. I know I've experienced it on muses canon and OC alike, and there is this attitude that I don't want to share or something? Okay, when that original fiction is published, if you want to RP as my OC, go for it. Alright, if you want to write this canon your way, no one's stopping you, but this is the way I'm writing them.

Nothing about that is unreasonable! Even if it is a canon, that's still your unique take on them, it isn't okay to do this. The only time it's alright to make a HC for someone else's muse is when you've come to them and asked if something discussed in jest or just casually about the thread (maybe an event we didn't see play out, as an example) can be HCed by you. If something like that happens, and they accept happily? Great! Totally acceptable and normal thing that happens in RP!

This is...not.

Again, I'm really sorry you're experiencing this! I wish you the best of luck, it's a tricky situation, and it doesn't sound like they're a particularly caring person. More like they have a real self-interest problem going on.

Hope for the best, expect something less than that, but don't let it impact your tone when addressing it. If they get irrationally upset at you for politely asking them, yet another time, to stop doing this, get rid of them, Anon. No one deserves infinite chances, and you deserve to enjoy your RP!