#both have felt betrayal and done things for their siblings

[nightly-ruse]

I am a diehard MothLeaf fan but I will say MothSquirrel just has this intrigue to me. Like they’d fight god together, argue then make up a minute later with a gift for each other, prank others, share trauma over food, make pacts so powerful it’s like it’s sealed with fate itself.

Idk but kinda love them. Maybe Mothwing and Leaf make out and Mothwing and Squirrel fight the world together. Two sisters and ones pretty girlfriend. Also Moth would 100% help Squilf stand up to Bramble and take custody of her kits from him

[ellecdc]

Black!reader that is “I don’t smoke” (mitski) because if their parents ‘you need to be mean be mean to her me, she I can take it and put it inside of me’

hi babes, this was my take on Black!reader who was always hurting on behalf of everyone else. this fic is very angsty compared to my usual standards, so please keep that in mind before reading, and mind the warnings. of course, as typical on ellecdc we have a happy/hopeful ending

Remus Lupin x Black!sister reader after The Prank™ [4.7k words]

CW: The Prank™, Black family trauma, the Marauders aren't speaking to each other, depressive episodes and self-loathing, siblings get quasi-violent/threats of violence? but for a good cause?, Remus' typical self-loathing, discussion of forgiveness and hatred, breaking up [not pictured] and making up [pictured]

The worst part-

Though, even the thought caused Sirius to scoff humourlessly, because what could possibly be the worst part of this? What could possibly be any ‘more worse’ than the worst thing he’d ever done?

Still, Sirius supposed, wand to his head, the worst thing about all of this would be the fact that Sirius didn’t regret it. Not really.

If anything, he only felt stronger in his conviction that Snape deserved to be mauled violently to death.

Yet…

Yet he didn’t find he felt particularly good about it all; about the way Remus woke up with new, deep, angry scars across his face courtesy of The Wolf who finally had a chance at a meal only to have that stolen before he turned on himself, about the way he looked at Sirius with an expression of pure unadulterated betrayal and then fury when he realised what he had done, about the three well aimed hits he took from James, nor about the way he had to listen through the door as Remus ended your relationship with you, officially giving into all of his deep-seeded self-loathing and beliefs that no one could or should possibly accept him.

And all Sirius managed to do was prove that to be true; that Remus couldn’t trust anyone. And as a result, he robbed you of the only love you had access to save what little you received from Regulus and Sirius.

So perhaps Sirius regretted that, but without access to a Time Turner, there was nothing to be done. 

There was nothing to be done. 

James had told him that “until he made things right with Remus, he wanted nothing to do with him”, and while he didn’t blame James, Sirius knew he was officially on his own because there would be no ‘making things right’. There was nothing right, not with Sirius, at least. 

Everything about Sirius was wrong.

There was nothing to be done. 

He brought the cigarette back up to his lips, the sensitive skin at the corner of his mouth cracking painfully as he took a drag. He appreciated the sting as his teeth started to taste like iron; the pain was both a welcome reminder and a distraction of his inner turmoil as he kept his gaze on the grounds below him.

He couldn’t look at the common room; the red and gold that once felt like home had faded into shades of grey. He couldn’t look in a mirror; his permanently downturned lips and angry eyes found him looking more like his father than he did himself. He couldn’t look at his hands; they were blistered and cracked from his tryst in the forest where he emptied his lungs by screaming until he was choking on air and punching uselessly at a tree.

He couldn’t look at any of his friends, because they couldn’t even look at him; they hated him.

He was hated. 

Sirius began to wonder how many more classes he could miss before McGonagall followed through on her threats to write home when the portrait hole opened.

He couldn’t look, though. Because he was hated.

“Aren’t you meant to be in class?” He heard you call to him, listening to your measured steps as you made your way to his spot on a windowsill. 

“I could ask the same of you.” He gruffed; voice cracking from disuse, from chain smoking, and from the perpetual tightness he had felt since That Night. 

“What are you doing, Sirius?” You sighed; you were exhausted. Exhausted of him. 

He was exhausted too.

“I’m minding my business, Y/N.” He spat back, stubbing out his smoke before lighting another one with a snap of his fingers. “You should try it sometime.” 

With a wave of your hand, the smoke was gone.

“What the fuck?”

“Get up.” You ordered simply, and Sirius shook his head at you.

“Go back to the dungeons.”

“No.” 

“I’m not in the fucking mood, Y/N.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Great, neither am I.” 

“I don’t want you here.”

“And I don’t want to be here,” You agreed, voice rising at Sirius’ petulance, “but I’ve got a brother who decided to stop functioning a few weeks ago, so here I am.” 

“I’m perfectly fine.”

“You smell.”

“Yeah well, you’re ugly.” Sirius sneered, pulling out another cigarette only for you to vanish the entire pack. 

“When was the last time you showered?” You demanded, and Sirius refused to look at you.

“Hm? Or changed? Or ate? When’s the last time you brushed your teeth?”

Sirius kept his gaze pointed at the grounds outside. 

“Sirius. Your hair is greasy, you smell stale, you look gaunt, and…they’re going to write home.”

“Good.” Sirius spat quickly. “As they should.”

“Is that what you want, Sirius? You want more people to be mad at you? More people to punish you?”

He didn’t answer.

“You’re already doing that enough for the rest of us.” You sighed, attempting to grab him by the arm only for him to shove you away. 

“Get away from me, Y/N, I mean it.” 

“No, get up.”

“Fuck off.”

“Now.” You nearly growled, and Sirius turned to see you aiming your wand in his direction, surprising a sarcastic laugh from him.

“What? Gonna hex me? Or are you gonna skip right to the Unforgivables, hm? Maybe an imperio? Or are you going to try some negative reinforcement? A crucio for disobedience? Salope stupide, de plus en plus comme ma mère chérie chaque jour.” (translation: stupid bitch, more and more like mother dearest every day)

Sirius flinched as you quickly raised your hand, prepared for a blow that you never landed. 

He looked back to see you standing there, hand poised like it was ready to hit him as you stared at him defiantly; your cool, piercing eyes so much like his own, but the displeased pinch of your mouth was that of your mother. 

“Is that what you want, Sirius? Huh? You want to be walloped a few more times on the nose so that everyone knows what a bad dog you are? You want to be punished for your misdeeds? Maybe get a few more of these?” And you punctuated your question by roughly grabbing at his jaw, fingers pressing into the painful bruises still colouring his cheeks courtesy of James. “That’s why you haven’t bothered healing them, yeah? So that everyone who sees will know what a right bastard you are."

He smacked your hand away with one arm and shoved you away from him with the other. 

“Or,” you continued - rather unphased by Sirius’ aggression - grabbing his balled up fist and bringing it up to your own face, “is it me you want to hit, hm? You want everyone else to hurt just as badly as you are? The world has been just terrible to you Sirius, you were dealt an awful hand! You just want everyone to suffer for it; to pay for the wrongs done to you.”

“Stop it.” Sirius hissed, trying to yank his hand away from you to no avail. 

“Hit me then, Sirius. Hit me. You wanna give into that Black Darkness? Want to be just as bad as they are? Just as bad as they’ve painted you to be? Go ahead.” 

“Stop.” 

“Then get up.” 

“Y/N…” He warned.

“Get up, Sirius.” 

“I hate you.” He spat, and your jaw tightened but you rolled your eyes as if you found him to be quite tiresome.

“Yeah, well, I don’t like you very much right now either.” 

He stood then, giving you no time to get out of his way before he was towering over you. You never faltered, though. He let you grab him by the sleeve of his shirt, he let you drag him up the stairs towards his dormitory - somewhere he hadn’t been since That Night, opting instead to sleep on the couches, a time or two in the room of requirement, and one night in the Shrieking Shack as Padfoot - and he let you bodily shove him into the boys’ bathroom. 

“Get in the shower, Sirius.”

“Sunny, please.”

“I’m not asking.” You said firmly. “Get in the shower.”

“I can’t.” 

You swore under your breath as you dragged him over to the shower stall, said nothing as he went no bones and sunk to the floor, and simply turned the shower on, soaking you both.

“Y/N, stop.” 

“Sirius, if you’re not going to take care of yourself, I will. Those are your choices.” You said defiantly, staring down at him as your school uniform became more and more drenched and your hair started sticking to the side of your neck.

Sirius let out a sigh and rested his head against his knees, and you accepted his relenting as the acquiescence it was. 

You pointed the shower head at him and began lathering soap into his hair before doing much the same with the conditioner. 

Sirius let the soap burn his eyes; welcomed it, even. He did nothing to help you with your tasks, though you didn’t ask him to. He did, however, draw the line at you trying to disrobe him.

“These need to come off, Sirius.” You said, pulling at his uniform shirt like something disgusting you found in a gutter.

“And I will take them off once you’re no longer staring at me.” He growled, causing you to scoff a humourless laugh.

“Like hells I’m letting you out of my sight again.”

Sirius simply groaned. 

“How are you going to wash your body, Sirius? Please don’t tell me you’re going to make me do that too.”

Sirius ripped the bar of soap out of your hands and glared at you as he shoved it beneath his clothes, washing himself the best he could under his sopping wet uniform. 

Though he was more than likely still sudsy, you shut the water off and vanished what water you could from both of your beings; each of your heads and uniforms still dripping wet as you flung open the bathroom door and marched across the hall.

Sirius’ mouth ran dry when you knocked on their dormitory door; somewhere between you confronting him in the common room and forcing him to bathe, classes seemed to have ended. 

He should’ve flung himself out of the common room window when he had the chance; he couldn’t see Remus, James, or Peter. They hated him.

He was hated.

Remus wouldn’t talk to any of them, and James and Peter weren’t talking to Sirius. Even though Remus had told them he didn’t want them ���taking sides”, he didn’t seem too bothered watching Sirius get iced out. 

Because he hated him.

Sirius was hated. 

“Oh…hi, Y/N…” James offered awkwardly as he opened the door. 

You barely spared him a glance. “Potter.” You greeted simply as you dipped under his arm which had been holding the door open and marched towards Sirius’ bed. 

Remus pulled his head through the hole of his jumper as he watched you start digging through Sirius’ trunk, sharing a quick glance with James and Peter before his gaze moved to Sirius all but cowering in the doorframe. 

“Are you…wet?” Peter asked cautiously then, all three boys staring at you in bemusement as you packed up a duffle. 

“Yeah.” You responded simply, throwing Sirius a towel that he (thankfully) caught as everyone’s eyes fell to him. 

Sirius quickly ran the towel over his person as you let his trunk close with a loud thunk, hiked the bag you packed for him over your shoulder, and stalked out of the dorm room without sparing any of the boys - including your ex boyfriend - a passing glance. 

“Don’t you hate me?” Sirius whispered as he allowed you to lead him to the Slytherin dorms.

“No, Sirius. I hate what you did.” You sighed, never faltering in your steps but strengthening your hold on your brother's wrist. “I love you, that’s why I’m here.” 

Remus had tried telling Peter and James to leave him alone; he wanted to be alone. 

Yet somehow, every morning, the two of them would sit across from him in the Great Hall, say hello, and then talk amongst themselves whilst pretending he wasn’t there. 

That was fine, though. Remus was sort of pretending he wasn’t there, too. 

But while Remus could ignore James and Peter’s existence, Sirius’ existence, and even his own if he really tried hard enough, he couldn’t ignore your existence. 

He’d been more than slightly confused when you stormed into his dorm room last night completely drenched without your eyes ever cutting to him and packed up a bag for your equally drenched brother. 

He’d been more than slightly hurt when you left without sparing him a glance, too. Though he figured perhaps he deserved that. This is what he wanted, right?

Scratch that, actually, what he had wanted was to be safe and loved and protected by the people who promised to do that for him. That was what he had wanted.

It wasn’t until Peter and James paused in their conversation to look at Remus concernedly that he realised he had caused his tea to overflow by means of accidental magic. 

Remus threw a wad of napkins at the mess as he made to stand, but his legs felt wholly incapable of holding him up when he saw you enter the Great Hall, quickly followed by a rather dispirited looking Sirius who nearly bumped into you as you paused at the entrance.

Your gaze automatically fell to the Slytherin table where Regulus was shooting you and Sirius a perturbed look. 

You turned then towards the Gryffindor table when your gaze fell to Remus.

He found himself unable to break your gaze; he wondered if you could see the heartbreak pooling in his eyes, or the longing painted in the space between his brows.

He wondered if you could even manage to see past the new, ferocious scars decorating his face.

He certainly couldn’t. 

Your shoulders fell as you shook your head - so minutely that Remus wondered if he had only imagined it - before you grabbed Sirius’ sleeve and dragged him towards the Ravenclaw table where both Pandora and Benjy accepted the pair of you without issue. 

He was simultaneously grateful that neither of you were sitting over here and furious that the two of you deigned to sit anywhere else. You were his; his friend, and his girlfriend, you were supposed to be here with him. 

But he didn’t want either of you over here, he didn’t want… 

He didn’t…

“Moony?” James asked cautiously.

“Don’t call me that.” Remus spat before he stood abruptly and stormed out of the Great Hall. 

He never wanted any of this; sure, he wanted to go to school, but he never wanted friends. He didn’t need friends, he’d never had them before. He met some kind kids on the train who ended up being his roommates, but he was ready and willing to hold them at arm's length. 

And then…

And then he found that he rather liked their company, and that they seemed to enjoy his. And then he found that he cared for them, and that they seemed to care for him. And then they found out, and they were accepting of him. And then they did the impossible and found a way to be there for him like no one else before, they showed up for him in ways no one else had ever tried, in ways he never imagined possible. 

And then he fell in love, and then…

And then. 

And then one of the worst people Remus could imagine to know learned of his darkest secret, his biggest shame, his lifelong curse. 

And he learned that from one of his best friends; Snape learned of Remus’ darkest secret, biggest shame, and lifelong curse from one of his best friends. 

And suddenly, everything everyone had ever said about lycanthropy was true; he was a monster, unloveable, a threat and hazard to everyone around him.

And as he paused in front of a window where he could see his reflection - three violent claw marks stretching from his left eye across the bridge of his nose down over his lips - the monster stared back at him. 

He was a beast. He was a monster playing dress up; cosplaying as a wizard day in and day out when in reality, deep down, he was a vicious, disgusting freak. 

And now everyone knew it; Sirius knew it, you knew it, Snape knew it.

And for those who didn’t know it, they could suspect it; rumours flying around of how Remus managed to be mauled by some creature and survive to tell the tale, because the only thing scarier than a beast among men is a man that can take on a beast and live to tell the tale.

The worst part-

But the thought made Remus snort humourlessly, because really, how could there be a worst part of any of this? What could possibly be ‘more worse’ than the worst thing to ever happen to him, second only to being bitten all those years ago. 

But Remus supposed, wand to his head, that the worst part of all of this was losing you.

Remus let out another humourless chuckle as he let his head fall with a thunk against the windowpane. 

And the absolute fucking kicker was that losing you had been his own doing. 

For the first time in perhaps five days, you were alone. 

You sat in the farthest corner of the library near rows of tomes with enough layers of dust on them to promise you some solitude as you waited for Sirius’ meeting with McGonagall to end. 

You’d convinced him (rather forced him) to start attending his classes again, though you were certain he wasn’t exactly a delight to have in the classroom at the moment. You only hoped it was enough for the school to refrain from writing home.

You dropped your quill and pressed your fingers into your eyes hard enough to see stars. Sirius was displeased with you for ordering him about. Regulus was displeased with you for babysitting Sirius and ‘cleaning up’ after him. Your parents were displeased with you seemingly because you were born with free will. Your professors were displeased with you for submitting sloppy work because you spent the majority of your time doing Sirius’ for him in order to keep him from being expelled. Your roommates were displeased with you for smuggling a dog into your room for the past week, even though he was very well behaved and slept dutifully on the end of your bed. And Remus…

And Remus. 

He had looked so hollow and… dead when he told you this needed to end, that he couldn’t see you anymore. You didn’t think he was capable of occlusion, but that was the only thing that could possibly explain how he could manage to look at you like you didn’t even matter to him anymore.

Perhaps you didn’t.

You didn’t matter. 

Perhaps you were too much like your brother; he couldn’t forgive him, so you were unforgivable too. Perhaps you were just too much of a Black for him; perhaps he realised the mistake in keeping your kind around. 

You couldn’t blame him, you supposed.

You were a tiresome bunch. You didn’t often want to keep your kind around, either. 

You shook yourself out of your pity party and returned to your notes, only to watch as Remus pulled out a chair opposite of you at your table. 

“The library’s plenty large, Lupin; I’m sure if you looked harder you could find another table.” you offered, hoping for indignation but landing somewhere around disheartened. 

“Is Sirius alright?” He murmured quietly, and you forced your eyes up to meet his. 

He looked dead tired; his eyes were sunken and his skin was missing its warm glow. But in his eyes laid an earnestness that had you remembering just how wholly safe and full you felt whenever you found yourself pinned beneath his gaze. 

You quickly looked away.

“Not really.” You replied honestly. “But I think he deserves that.” 

Remus made a noncommittal sound as he continued staring at the top of your head; you couldn’t see it, mind you, but you could certainly feel it.

“And you?” 

“What about me?”

“Are you alright?”

“Why?” You demanded, and you looked up in time to see Remus finally look down into his lap. 

You stared at him as he wrung his hands in his lap while you catalogued the scars across his face. You wondered if where they landed over his eyes caused him any vision issues. You wondered what the ones over the bridge of his nose would feel like as you traced your fingertip over them. You wondered what the ones on his lips might feel like under your own. 

You hated them, knowing that he did too, knowing how he came to have them. But you loved them because they were his, because it was him. Because you loved him. 

“Are you alright?” You decided to ask then, and he looked up at you as if he was surprised you were still there.

“No.” He responded quickly.

“I’m sorry.” You offered, though you knew not what for. You really hadn’t done anything. 

“How-” Remus started, though he quickly looked back down at his hands as he searched for the words.

You waited for him. 

“How…can you help him?”

You felt your eyebrows furrow, because whatever you thought Remus might’ve been about to ask, it certainly wasn’t that. 

“What?” You asked dumbly. 

“How can you help Sirius? After all that he’s done?” He continued gently.

“I… because, Remus, someone has to.” 

Remus nodded as he considered your response. “There’s a… part of me that feels as though you’re choosing him over me.” 

“Remus. You chose; you made that decision for me. I didn’t choose anyone’s side.”

“So if we were still dating right now, would you have forgiven Sirius?”

“Forgiven?” You repeated incredulously. “Who said anything about forgiveness?” 

Remus simply blinked at you owlishly. 

“Remus, I cannot just sit here and let him whither away into nothing because I’m mad at him. He fucked up - big time - there’s no question about it. And deep down, I know he knows that too; that’s why he’s been torturing himself over it. There is no way in which I could treat him that would be worse than the way he’s treating himself right now. But I-”

You shook your head as you fought off the stinging in your sinuses; you did not want to cry in front of him. 

“There is no one rooting for us, Remus. No one. You’re pissed at him - rightfully so, and completely justified - Potter and Pettigrew are pissed at him too, he’s pissed at himself and I… someone has to, Remus. Someone has to root for him, I can’t…I can’t just abandon him, not when there’s no one else.” 

“I can’t… I can’t feel bad for him, Y/N.” Remus exclaimed helplessly. 

“I’m not asking you to; I’m simply telling you why I do.” 

“I don’t…I don’t know how to forgive him, dove, I don’t know how to not hate him for this.” He nearly sobbed, holding his hands out helplessly as if the grief and torment were tangible things that he could crush in the palm of his hands if only he could catch them. “Why don’t you hate him? Please tell me? Because I genuinely want to know. I need to know - I don’t…I don’t want to hate him.” 

“He’s my brother, Rem.” You said simply, shrugging your shoulders helplessly. “I hate what he’s done, I hate the choice he made, I hate the outcome of that choice, I hate what he did to you, I hate what that’s done to me, but… but I don’t hate him. I can't hate him.” 

The two of you sat in silence for a while; the only sounds coming from the odd book being magically sent back to its shelf and the odd voices from students downstairs when a study group got a touch too boisterous. 

“Do you hate me?” Remus whispered then; your eyes flit up to meet his which were already steady on you. 

“No, Remus.” You whispered back.

He nodded as his gaze fell. “Just what I did?” 

Your lip quirked in the faintest ghost of a smirk. “Yes I…I sort of hated that, I suppose.” 

“I don’t want to hate him.” He repeated.

“I know.” 

“Do you-” Remus paused, turning away and screwing his eyes shut as you realised he was crying. “Do you think you’ll ever be able to forgive me?”

“Remus…”

“I was scared, and hurt, and angry, and-” he hiccuped, reaching across the table as he nearly begged for your hand. You gave it willingly. “-and I hated him but I mostly hated myself.”

“I know, Rem.”

“Please? Do you…do you think you’d be able to forgive me? For leaving, for running, for abandoning you? You’ve never once given up on the people important to you and one bad thing happens to me and…and I just throw you away, I-” He looked at you as if he was only realising all of this now; hurt, frustration, anger, and betrayal all on your behalf flickered behind his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, Remus.” You insisted, but he quickly shook his head at you. 

“It’s not; it’s not okay, I- … I’m not as gracious as you, clearly, but I just…I just feel like if you’re strong enough to forgive me then there’s…there’s hope for me, too. That maybe I can be strong enough to forgive Sirius.” 

“You’re forgiven, Remus.” 

His eyes fell shut as more tears fell, but you were sure it was more from relief than it was from pain. 

Both boys - Remus and Sirius - were so good at torturing themselves over choices they’ve made that you were certain no one else would ever have to as long as they both should live. 

And for different reasons, you loved them both beyond measure. 

“I don’t deserve forgiveness.” Remus whispered.

“Of course you do.” You countered, squeezing his hand in yours and watching as some of the tension in his shoulders dissipated. 

“Does Sirius?” He asked quietly, keeping his eyes pointed at where your joined hands sat on the table between you. 

You’re not sure when or how you became the leading expert on conflict resolution and forgiveness; perhaps it was in refereeing Sirius and Regulus’ petty squabbles growing up, perhaps it was in shielding Regulus from your parents fury, perhaps it was in trying to tame Sirius enough to keep him out of trouble, perhaps it was in being the youngest cousin along with Regulus and watching the siblings before you find their own ways to define what was right and good, perhaps…perhaps it came from the many examples of conflict and spite that you had witnessed growing up.

“I don’t know, Rem.” You answered honestly. “I think…I think the only one who can really know that is you.”

If he was displeased by your answer, he didn’t show it.

“But,” you continued cautiously, “I don’t think you have to forgive him for what he’s done. You just have to decide whether you’re going to hate him for it or love him in spite of it.” 

His lips pursed, pulling at scars both new and old in ways you’re not sure you’d ever grow tired of watching, as he nodded. “I don’t want to hate him.”

“I know, Rem.” 

“I don’t want James or Peter to hate him either…I don’t know why they were willing to watch him wither away like that.”

You couldn’t hide your smile at that; the first genuine smile since That Night. “They don’t, and they weren’t.” You countered, only moving to explain when he looked at you in bemusement. “They were the ones who told me how bad he was getting…they wanted to make sure someone was looking after him without giving into his pity party.” 

“Always taking care of everyone else, hm?” Remus murmured at you, bringing your hand up to his lips to press a delicate kiss to your knuckles. 

You simply hummed noncommittally. 

“Can I return the favour?”

“You can certainly try, but I’m quite high maintenance.” You teased gently. 

“That’s alright.” He agreed quickly. “You’re more than worth the effort.” 

You breathed out a quiet laugh through your nose. “Whatever you say, Lupin.”

[grahambaham]

Controversial opinion, especially for any Jason Todd fans out there (I'm one of them), but I completely understand why the fans in, the 80' I think, voted to kill him off. Hear me out, okay?

Jason was at first a literal Dick Grayson copy, was legit given his backstory and personality with the name being the only change. And for a while that was all they knew about and, rightfully so, hated about him. Now I'm not sure whether he was given the whole Alley kid who tried to steal Batman's tire story before or after his death but either way, in those fans' minds, Jason Todd was just a boring replica of Dick Grayson and no one liked him. If I was alive and a fan back then, I honestly would have done the same thing.

WHICH IS WHY I HAVE SUCH A HUGE PROBLEM WITH THE WRITERS DOING TO JASON THE EXACT SAME THING THAT GOT HIM KILLED OFF BEFORE!!!

Jason immediately after getting brought back to life was a villain. He wasn't misguided, he wasn't an antihero, my man was a Villain with a capital V. He didn't protect workings girls or children from any drugs or anything, he just made one off hand comment to a guy not to sell to kids and that's it. One of his only interactions with any prostitutes is to mock her for her past and decisions that led to her becoming one. Bruce did not abuse him or attack him unfairly. Jason had not only tried to kill Joker or other horrible villains, he killed anyone whether they were rapists, or robbers, or petty fucking thieves and he didn't do it for justice or whatever the fuck but because he was angry and taking it out on everyone he could get his hands on. He stopped Batman from going after Nightwing after Bludhaven blew up with him in it. He blew up a school. He beat up Tim in his little Robin panties and was a fucking villain.

I love Jason. But I love him as the messed up asshole he is. Not as some misguided wittle antihero. Which is why I despise the fact that the fandom latched onto the completely inaccurate version of him, because the writers of DC had started writing him the way the fandom wanted and he is now irreversibly ruined. Aside from the already mentioned stuff, they made him into a copy of Dick Grayson (for the second fucking time) and Helena Bertinelli.

Helena is the one protecting women and children, the antihero that often uses violent force. She's the one with the reluctant sibling relationship with Tim. Jason was not Tim's Robin by the way, Dick was. Tim does not like Jason one fucking bit and spends most of their forced interactions roasting him so bad he has to buy burn salves. Also her personality was taken and given to Jason in some ways too, like her manner of speech and stuff, but I'm willing to let that slide as accidental.

From Dick Grayson, they mostly took his relationships, romantic and platonic. Jason slept with Barbara and Kori both, which aside from just being dumb as hell is also weird and creepy because Jason is six years younger than them at least and they knew him as a fourteen year old when they were at least twenty, and they would never date someone so much younger than them, they aren't fucking creeps. Then they took Starfire and Arsenal and made them forget their own lives to join Jason's little antihero team (neither of them are antiheroes what the fuck) and act like the sun shines out of Jason's ass and he's their leader or some shit when they would never follow him before that, especially Roy who has led so many other teams and does not deserve that shit. Some fans also ship him and Jason, which is both creepy and character assassination for Roy's entire character more than him being friends with Jason and in the Outlaws already is.

Also, Pit Madness is not a thing you fucking brainless losers. Stop trying to justify and erase the flaws that make him an interesting character. His anger has always been due to the trauma of being tortured and dying and the misguided feeling of betrayal he felt for Bruce. He was unwell and taking his problems out on others. So, repeat after me: PIT MADNESS IS NOT A REAL THING!!!

Thank you for reading <3

[unabashednightmarepizza]

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑀𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑀𝑎𝑑𝑒 𝑈𝑠, 𝑈𝑠

A/N: I'll be completely honest, I don't know what I have written... But it's wholesome( i think) and cute. Curse me and my inability to write something short.

Prompts Used: I'll stay for as long as you need from this, do you think we'll be in love forever from this.

Summers in the Burrow was absolute trash.

Now it wasn't because Charlie didn't like to come back home and perhaps finally rest a bit. He actually liked being back home, especially with you now that you two were finally dating, he often took you out with him for hours after you stashed food in your back, knowing you two would be gone for a long time doing...

Snogging? Making-out? Flying?

It all depended on the mood.

All in all, he loved his family, he loved you, and he loved how well you fit with his family and love them as your own, they loved you in exchange just as much, and loved being back home even if it meant the teasings of his brother Bill who was the one witnessing his puppy love to you would increase with their other siblings' help.

But sometimes, the teasing was just... too much. And the fact that you also took after his family didn't help.

His own lover was against him, and they obviously loved making him go all red!

As if it was hard to begin with...

"It seems you are so smitten by me that you always talk about me to your family, Charlie~" you teased your boyfriend lightly as your hand wrapped around his, squeezing three times to silently say I love you, even though you were just making fun of him for talking about you a lot to his family, as he looked at you with burning cheeks and a soft smile.

"No? Where did you get it from?" He tried to hide his rants about you in a cool manner, to save himself from the teasing he would face even though he would melt as soon as you started planting kisses on his cheek, but ultimately failed when Bill and his dad, who adored you already, stumbled into the living room and beamed visibly at the sight of you sitting with his son.

"Y/N! It's lovely to see you, dear! How are you?" Arthur immediately pushed his two eldest sons aside and came to hug you, landing kisses on each of your cheeks as he proudly looked at you. Even to this day, after almost four years of being Charlie's friend and two years of dating him, you never quite got used to the way they always welcomed you warmly.

Molly hugging you, smelling like those cookies she always made. Arthur's warm hugs as he pulled you to his artefact room to show all the new cool muggle things he found, Fred and George telling you the newest pranks they thought about, playing wizard chess with Percy, making Ginny's hair in different styles and teaching them to her as she did your make-up, telling Ron about the latest school drama...

Sometimes, with all their flaws and all, you even thought that they actually loved you more than their own sons.

"Yeah, there goes our privilege as soon as they see their daughter..." Bill groaned as he rubbed his arm to soothe the pain of his greatest betrayal, done by none other than his father. Still, Bill was someone who always found a way to tease you or mostly Charlie and this time wasn't any different as he saw how you both smiled shyly, quite cute in his eyes, as you both stumbled over your words, blushing madly.

"I-I'm not their daughter Bill, I think you are-"

"Yet, my friend, yet."

"Bill, stop teasing..." Charlie gritted out, hoping it was enough to make him back off but instead Bill laughed and merely brushed it off.

"You look like a squirrel when you are angry, Charlie~ Besides, by the amount of adoring talk you had been doing since your second year at Hogwarts, I thought you would have already used a promise ring type of commitment!"

Charlie's face was a tomato at this point, even his neck and probably his chest was all red from the embrassment he felt. He always told you that it was a bad idea to spend the summer with his family, solely for the reason that he knew they wouldn't stop teasing him, and often suggested the idea of spending it in Hogwarts, alone, with you in a flirty way.

In which you always replied, I don't want to be on the receiving end of one of Molly's angry Howlers, Charlie... We have to go, besides, what's the worst that could happen? They love me!

But, that was the point.

They loved you so much, even more than possibly their own children!

And they wouldn't dare to tease you, no.

They took greater satisfication from doing that to him. Especially since he accidently let it slip that he wanted to marry you after graduation.

"What? Don't tell me... Holy shit, you never told them about your affinity with them since the day school started?!" Bill dramatically screeched with a hand over his chest at his brother's state, Percy rolling his eyes at the three of you as you tilted your head confused.

"Wait... Really? He had been talking about me?"

"Of course! I don't think he stopped doing it even after you two started dating! If not, it increased even more!" Percy yelled from the other room, making Charlie look there angrily, not aware of the soft and loving eyes you were sending to his way.

"Yes, I remember him talking about you at every breakfast, so much so that both me and Molly knew what flower you liked and memorized your schedule!" Arthur added with a happy nod from the kitchen as he helped Molly with the plates. Charlie turned his head so swiftly that you were worried he hurt his neck as he was left staring with a gaped mouth at his father.

"Dad!"

"Oh, yes, I remember now! I wasn't very pleased to hear that Y/N thought gnomes were cute... but she accepted they could be dreadful too!" Molly came from the kitchen as she gave you her famous pancakes with a smile and affectionate pat on your head as her eyes found Arthur's playfully.

"I still remember how your dad came bursting in, yelling that he finally found someone who shared his fascination with Muggle world and even gave him a record player."

"I'm gonna go and de-gnome the garden, maybe that will-" Charlie suddenly got up and turned towards the door to get out and probably cool his flaming face, while you giggled uncontrollably alongside Ginny who was having the best time of her life at her brother's misery.

"We can send your precious, curse-breaking lover if you want!" A yell came from the other room.

"Fred!" Charlie turned angrily to scold his brother when he saw the disappointed eyes of his brother.

"I'm not Fred, seriously first mum and now you, Charlie?" George, actually Fred, came from the other room, looking sad and half-angry.

Which was all a ploy, and even you knew it at this point.

But Charlie never was able to tell which twin was which one, and this was no different. He huffed out angrily as he muttered a whatever, and walked right towards the garden as you and twins looked after him with straight eyes and then slowly smirked.

"You are never gonna get tired of tricking him, right?" You threw your head back on the couch and looked at the twins with a cheeky smile as they laughed and shook their heads.

"Never~"

"So... You know we," Fred pointed to all the other Weasley siblings, except Bill and Charlie, to a pouting Ginny and Ron, who were doing their best to use their puppy eyes. " are here for a reason, and that is-"

"To hear more of my adventures in any kind so that you could find a humiliating moment to tease Charlie later?" You quirked an eyebrow curiously as they all stared at you in wonder.

"That's why she is the best older sister possible..." Ron and Ginny exclaimed with amazement with breathless sighs, making you laugh as Fred and George nodded their heads impressed.

"She is finally a true Weasley. Understanding what we exactly want is of high value."

" Suck it up, guys, you made it very obvious! Besides, Charlie won't be happy about this!"

"Then why are you bringing snacks?" Percy stopped while bending over the table in the living room under everyone's curious and amused stares, mumbling to himself as he flushed.

"Because... I want to hear them too."

"Hell yeah, that's my brother! Now, Y/N, you have no other choice than telling us!" Fred exclaimed as he threw a proud arm around Percy's shoulder and ushered everyone to sit down so that you could finally start. You looked at all the kids sitting down in front of you, waiting for you to start with excited eyes. Seeing them so eager, even though it wasn't unusual for them whenever you came to the Burrow, and they had other motives, made you crack a smile and nod.

You could actually give what they want to them with this story, and watch as Charlie suffers from their hands on your behalf.

"Now, where should I begin... Perhaps the accident with Squawk is a good one."

Squawk was on loose, the reputation of the Dragon Club was at stake and there was no way you could find that little rascal in time.

Without help.

"I want Squawk back in our care just as much as you do, Y/N! I'll help you find him, you don't have to worry when you have me!"

As soon as the last part left his lips, Charlie already slapped his forehead mentally when he met Liz's questioning and "are you serious?" look. He couldn't help how he felt or what he did, especially when his crush came to ask for his help. He had been watching you as discreetly as possible, throwing himself in to help you whenever you ask and he always sat with you at lunch and cracked jokes in hopes that you would smile.

You did, every time, because how could you not? He was being extremely cute and adorable!

But to Liz, and pretty much every single one of your friends, all these longing stares and shy smiles was becoming a lot harder to bear.

"Hate to break the cute moment, but we have a mission to finish and an Incendio to cast! Pump the love brakes and do it now Y/N~"

Actually remembering where you were and with who you were, you flushed but did it anyways and set the fake eggs on fire to lure Squawk to where you three were waiting.

And soon, he showed up and circled around the eggs protectively, making all three of you to cheer.

"Nice one, mate!" Liz's eyes were as wide as saucers when the word mate left Charlie and he was left freaked out with his hand still up in the air.

No... No, I didn't just call my crush "mate"...

Your eyes were also wide open at what he said, but you tried not to show how it made you disappointed as you smiled and let out a hey, which didn't really had the usual hype.

Mate... That's all he is ever going to see me as.

But amongst that chaos and freaking out, and Charlie's yell, Squawk was already gone, having flought away in fright.

Charlie, since he was kind of the reason Squawk got away, had a sheepish yet half-horrified look on his face as he looked at you, expecting anything except the kind and happy smile you had given him.

"W-what... Are you not angry at me?"

"No? Why would I be?" You tilted your head with a small smile as Charlie gulped nervously.

Oops, you were actually angry but... somehow, it felt like it wasn't about this accident?

"Because Squawk is... gone?"

You sighed, rubbing the back of your neck. It was no use for you to hold grudge against him just because he called you his mate and you had to fall for him. "It's like you said, Charlie. As long as I have you, I have nothing to worry about... Besides I'm confident in where he might have flied off..."

The rest of your sentence was a blur as Charlie widened his eyes and his heart literally stopped at what you said. Yes, he was the one who actually said it but to hear your crush also agree on it...

You just said the sweetest thing possible to him and he... called you his mate.

Tonk was his mate, not you! What the hell was wrong with him?!

"It's rather sweet what you said about Charlie, Y/N but one, stop being all lovey-dovey since some of us are single," she walked away while groaning, leaving you two behind blushing madly as she soon turned back and looked over at her shoulder with a cheeky smile.

"And two, please have a date already after we catch Squawk. I have a bet going on with Andre and I intend to win it, if possible." With that, she left you two to yourself and went inside as you looked at Charlie nervously for him to say something, anything.

And even if his heart threatened to get out of his chest at how close you two were, he smiled and looked into your eyes that reflected all of your emotions.

And it made him blush even more, when he found the clear adoration in there.

"Should we get started then?" He extended his hand out shakily and smiled when you grabbed it thightly and made him run after you with a happy laugh, thinking to yourself as you both ran.

Unaware of how he was watching your hair dance in the wind.

He is lucky he is cute, or else I wouldn't be running after him...

Everyone was left shocked at how stupidly oblivious their older brother, whom they all loved and even idolized, could be. A silence settled after you finished the story and you anxiously looked at them since... they were just looking at you with open mouths, even Percy wasn't saying anything except gulping down the chips he was eating.

But soon, Ginny's screech cut the silence perfectly.

"Wait... MY BROTHER REALLY CALLED YOU 'MATE'?! Ughhh, boys are so stupid..." she rested her back against the table with a hmph, crossing her arms in front of her chest angrily. If the situation wasn't comedic, you could have pinched her cheeks and agree with her, even if you were dating that oblivious and stupid boy that was her brother.

"How many boys have you ever seen, Ginny?" Ron pushed her shoulder, in a way quite offended as she sticked her tongue out.

"I live with 6 of them, I think it's enough!"

"Pretending that our sister didn't just roast all of us," George pointedly said as he slowly pushed the two youngests away with a sheepish look, and looked at you with a smirk.

"Our brother really called his crush 'mate' huh? Interesting..." he rubbed his chin as if he had a long beard which made you snort and nod at him.

They were so going to use this against him.

"Yeah, he did. And according to our friends, he banged his head at every possible surface whenever he remembered that but... it was kind of cute, how he lost track of what he says around me." You cutely said, a stupid smile over your face as the boys made a disgusted face while Ginny let out an awe. You slapped the back of their heads softly as you snickered. "Don't make that face now! I will see you when you fall in love~"

"Wait, wait! Was there a confession? Was it romantic or stupid as he first acted with you?" Ginny suddenly asked excitedly, bouncing up and down with a wide smile as she hugged her legs closer to herself, waiting for your answer.

"Ughh girls and their obsession over romance..." Ron groaned, making a face as if he was disgusted but you knew deep down that he was also into them, especially the one you had with his brother.

He would rather die than accept it though.

"Well, there definetly was some, Ginny. But... At first it was just us complaining about the other to our best friends."

Your chest felt heavy remembering Rowan, how you two used to stay up late while giggling to yourselves. It was mostly them, making fun of you as you blushed and hid yourself under your pillow after you confessed your crush to them.

But what are best friends for? Making fun of you when you need their help, and then offer their biggest one.

"I don't even know what's going anymore, Rowan! I just can't get Charlie out of my mind, every time I look at him, my stomach feels weird, I start to sweat and my heart feels like it's gonna burst out and scream... That bitch and him making me feel like that."

Rowan giggled as she patted your back while you vented, offering their comfort while you laid over their lap. You were trully sick, sick of feeling like this, because deep down, you knew the reason.

You knew why it all happened around Charlie but refused to acknowledge them.

There was a difference between knowing and accepting it, right?

"And... And as if it's not enough, I saw him half-naked!" Rowan choked on the air as they looked down at you in fright.

"You didn't start big, right?!"

"What the hell?! No, of course not! Look at me Rowan! Do you see me as that kind of person? If I was, I wouldn't be patheatically venting to my best friend!"

You got up from their lap as Rowan nodded, saying a fair point, and watched you plop down sadly before you crawled next to them and put your head on their shoulder. Rowan knew what was exactly coming and sighed as they pulled one of the napkin from their nightsand and offered it to you with an "are you serious?" look.

"He was... just so hot, Rowan."

" I know, it's normal for you to say that."

"I can't believe I fell for a dragon boy, whose only interest would be them."

Now that got their attention. Because, there was no way in hell you didn't realize the obvious favouritism he had for you... Right?

But by the patheatic pouting on your face, yes you didn't realize a thing.

"You really don't realize, do you?" They chuckled amused as they pat your head while they fixed their glasses. You lifted your head curiously and frowned at their question. "Realize what?"

"Charlie literally only talks to you about his favourite things, you included, and you listen to him talk for hours about dragons. He gives you the Snitch whenever he catches it when you come to his matches, which is usually always, and even gave you his sweater when you were cold... THE Weasley sweater, if I may add. Everyone knows he and Bill cares about it a lot, Charlie more than Bill."

As they talked, every single interaction passed through your eyes.

Even the ones no one really knew about.

The picnics near the Black Lake, hanging out after curfew, exploring the castle together...

Watching the stars together as you rambled about them, not realizing how close you two were suddenly. His wood and pine smell, a result of him always hanging out in the forest, suddenly filling your insides as your flowery yet quite light and neutral smell dazed Charlie and made him lean down closer to your lips... Them being apart by just mere inches as you both felt the other's breath, a craving, a lust and want so deep that it made you both almost tumble down and dive deep in the feelings...

You were down bad.

"And then he falls asleep on you, you fall asleep on him, you read to him, you always bring something for him from back home and he blushes every time you do that, he brings you his mother's cookies that she made for you, under his request and begs... Friends to lovers trope at its best really."

"Rowan..."

"Hmm?" They turned their head to you after they stopped listing everything, hearing your disturbed and anxious voice brought them back to the moment and- Holy shit, were you scared?

"Y/N? Are you oka-"

"I'm in love with Charlie." You said breathless but it seemed Rowan didn't quite catch the heavy meaning of your words.

"Oh well, congrats for realiz- Wait, not even like?! Like love love?

A shy nod of confirmation, and then a happy squeal.

"Oh My Merlin, I'm so happy for you! Now, you just need to say it to him-and no trust me, he feels the same, if not even more! There is no giving up for us now!"

"Then of course, he confessed to me... After making me cry because I had a crush on him-" you shrugged your shoulders noncholantly after you told them how you came to conclusion that you loved Charlie, and at that point, they were all so invested in your story that they didn't realize their brother standing at the corner and watching, listening to them with both a stupid and sorry look.

A/N: You may read my other work "First Date Shenanigans" for some referances.

Until that is, Fred understood the end of your sentence first and an angry scowl came to his face, making him look scarier.

"HE MADE YOU CRY?! THAT FRICKING TWAT, PERCY BRING THE BAT-"

"ON IT!"

"NO, FRED, DON'T-It was a misunderstanding!" You stopped them hurriedly as Percy immediately stood up and almost made a run for it, both young boys looking at you with wide eyes as they slowly blinked.

"What? How could there be a misunderstanding?"

"I wasn't very open with who my crush was," you shyly smiled and helped them sit back down, chuckling at their cuteness and how protective they were of you.

It made you feel... like a part of the family.

"Since everyone was suddenly so interested in my love life, which was a result of them knowing your brother's big crush on me, I never told anything about who he was."

"Yeah, we remember that Snape Accident... Douchebag."

"Ginevra Weasley, language!" Both you and her giggled as he came closer to you and laid her head on your thigh, your hand finding her ginger hair as you slowly started making a little braid.

"Soooo... What did he do when he learnt you had a crush on 'someone else'?" Ron emphasised pointedly with his fingers and waited for an answer, with a look he hoped that didn't give his big curiosity.

"Well, before that happened, he literally offered to duel me to take my mind off things... Now, I'm thinking that he did it for himself."

"Look, I know we will chat, but what will we chat about? What if we run out of things to say? What if we can't find something to talk about?" You anxiously looked at Charlie and Tonks, who was there to help you out with your date and couldn't help but get even more nervous after Tonks asked what you would do with him.

You never thought about that one.

What were you supposed to talk with Charlie, who was unaware that he was helping you with your crush who was actually him, so that you wouldn't ridicule yourself?

That is, if he accepted of course... Which was a low chance.

Seeing you spiralling into anxiety made Charlie sighed annoyed at his friend and turned to her with a pointed look. "See what you did, Tonks? Asking all those questions..."

" What? I was trying to help!" He shook his head at her innocent exclaim and gripped the bridge of his nose.

"Don't let your nerves get to you, love. Fight them off by... I don't know... Duelling one of us?" Charlie was already having a hard time looking at you, knowing that you liked someone else and was wondering what to do for a boy that definetly didn't deserve you, your love and attention at all.

Should he come after you to see the boy and later jinx him? Perhaps not... But he wanted to.

"That... would be good, Charlie. I'd like to duel you though, if you are not scared~" you teased him softly as your heart skipped a beat at his surprised wide eyes.

But unknown to you, Charlie was grateful that you didn't have any powers such as super hearing.

"Okay... But I won't make it easy..." he winked and looked at you through his lashes, possibly looking at you like that for the last time. He hoped he didn't look stupid, since Bill told him that flirting was definetly not his strongest feature, but by the snicker of Tonks...

Yes, he made himself a stupid.

"I think he went easy on me..." was what left your mouth after the session ended, rubbing your neck awkwardly but feeling refreshed. Charlie looked at you fondly for a second as he chuckled at your pouting face, shaking his head.

"No, I didn't..."

It wasn't that he would rather take Crucio than to see you get hurt...

"Yes, you did! I watched the whole time!" Tonk exclaimed cheekily with wiggling her brows as Charlie pushed her away from himself, already feeling himself blush again.

"%90 per cent of the time he was with you, it seems our brother only blushed..." Ron mumbled disappointedly, wondering how a boy like him could be rendered to a blushing, shy mess.

"MY BROTHER WAS SHY?! CHARLIE?! Are we talking about the same boy who reeks confidence in almost everything he does?"

"Well, Ginny darling, whether you believe it or not, he was really shy and couldn't look into my eyes after our first kiss. It even made me feel bad as if I pushed him but... Later I learnt why!"

"Then why was it?"

"You would know when you grow up..."

You couldn't just tell them that their brother thought about snogging you every chance he gets, from the moment he kissed you.

It would taint their precious innocence... Though you were starting to think that there was none.

"Just know that he turned it around very soon, and he was the confident boy he was in a few days."

Before you two dated, Charlie's hand always itched as if he wanted to touch you. And he did, he wanted that more than anything. Talking to you, praising you or even touching your hand simply seemed hard for him.

But as soon as you accepted him, all the things he wanted to do with you was easy. He kissed your cheek every day, called you his lover without a care, he touched you and hugged you freely as his longing finally was erased.

So, in short, a huge weight was lifted from his shoulders.

Even though you were the one who stopped them in the end.

He would always kiss you in front of people, not afraid of showing his love( definetly not because he knew some certain people liked you) and he would say, "What a good way to start my morning..." breathless as he stared at you with soft and loving eyes. He didn't care much about public attention or what others would say that much anyways.

To him, showing you his love was the least of the things he could do.

Especially when you never made him feel like an oddball, defended him even when he wasn't there, whenever he came to you to get help treating his injuries, you slept with him, cuddled with him, always beamed at him at the first sight of him walking to you, supported his dreams just as he always supported you and loved him unconditionally.

But he couldn't lie... All his affections were also to see your blushing face and embrassed face as you tried to look at anything but him, especially in the early days.

Remembering all the happy times you had with him, and all the times you had to get treat his wound after one of his "funny adventures" made you giddy all so suddenly. Because they were real, you weren't dreaming about them again, you actually went with it and was now currently sitting with his family, bonding together to prepare the biggest achievement of your life: Get back at Charlie for all the times he teased you restlessly.

But... Why not add Bill into this as well? He also took great happiness from watching it.

"But Charlie wasn't the only one I had power over. There were even days I made Bill do what I want him to do!"

"Really? Our brother? Like what?" Now all of their heads were turned to you, their eyes wide with excitement as the same cheeky smile before pulled up your lips.

"Yes, such as putting up decorations, preparing the Great Hall for the Celestial Ball and help me find a-"

"HE HELPED WITH THE CELESTIAL BALL?!"

"You are a natural leader, Bill, and I'm tiny compared to you. Inexperienced too. In many ways actually. So, as the good senior you are, I think you should help this cute friend of yours~"

"Okay, fine... Don't think you can rope me to hang the decorations though. I'll help you, and my job will be done."

Spoiler alert, it actually wasn't the end of his job.

"But even if he was the one who often helped us around with our problems, I would like to think that I too helped him on some ways.

Such as the time he stood up to Emily Tyler in the Ball.

"I realized I made a mistake...Would you like to give us another chance, Bill?"

Please say no, please say no, you are not that stupid Bill...

" Emily..." Bill said as he walked closer to her and stood before her, her batting lashes at him as he looked down at her. Meanwhile you were behind him, a mouth hang open in shock. Out of all the ways you wanted him to man up and face her, this wasn't what you planned.

"No way in the fucking hell..."

" Even if you were the last witch on the world, it wouldn't happen. You have been too rude to my friends, my best friend, and my brother and to me."

"Okay, that was impressive really..."

Ginny rolled her eyes at her brother and pushed them away, turning to you with her wide eyes as she wanted to hear the "love part" of your story with her brother.

"Was there a time Charlie saved you? From anyone?"

"Hmm... He often protected and defended me against Merula-"

"Oh, that bitch-"

"GEORGE WEASLEY!"

I swear Molly somehow always hear us... Maybe it's mum ears?

"Hello, Charlie! What are you doing here? It's not the class time yet?" He turned to look at you in surprise as his hands clasped behind his back and he greeted you back, perhaps a little bit more enthusiastic than he wanted.

"You know me, love, when I'm not playing Quidditch or bickering with Bill, I'm out exploring... And I can ask you the same, what are you doing here?" Your heart fluttered at the term of endearment he used, flushing a bit as you giggled at him. He leant over the boxes that held food for the creatures, trying to be all cool but he was anything but "cool".

Because, today would be the day, he was so sure of it! He would ask you out on a date, ace it with flying colors and finally have you to himself, all to love and kiss!

" If it isn't the two losers of Hogwarts..."

But not all plans went according to plan.

Charlie, hearing Merula's venomous voice, pulled you behind him as he stood before her, blocking you from her. He knew how you can kick asses, you did on him many times, and he also knew you always won against Merula and she was angry about that too. Merula, contrary to popular belief, wasn't that bad.

She was bad just... Not that much.

But still, he couldn't let her either do something to you or ruin his day by stopping him from asking you out.

" What do you want Merula?"

"Why do you even care, Charlie? I thought she hated me? She probably came here to insult me again."

"You're right. I don't care what you think most of the time, Y/L/N." At her usual snarky comment, you just rolled your eyes at her and turned to look at Charlie. Your eyes widened at how thight his jaw was and how his eyes could actually throw fire at her if that was possible, and a sudden burst of love and want threatened you to turn into a puddle at his protective side.

" I don't want to argue with you right now, Merula... Let's go somewhere else Charlie."

Suddenly, as if your words lightened a bulb in her mind, Merula gripped your wrist thightly, making you slightly wince as you turned around with angry eyes. "Where do you think you are going when you are talking to me?"

"The hell is your problem? Get the hell away from them!" Charlie pushed Merula away from you, making her stumble back in shock at seeing the Charlie Weasley who was ever the kind boy turn aggressive when someone threatened... you.

She chuckled at noticing what everyone has been talking about for the past few months.

Charlie Weasley was never like this, never raised a hand, never used his wand to fight another student....

Maybe, she could change that.

"Oh, Charlie Weasley, the shadow of his brother coming to rescue the day... It must be hard going to Hogwarts at the same time as your older brother... Watching him take over the stage, always be the talk,"

He scoffed at her obvious attempt of setting him off, but Charlie knew her and he wasn't about to get into her trap.

Her sharp eyes soon turned to you with a smirk. "Not that Y/L/N would know anything about that. Their brother is missing, probably dead."

But bringing you into this? That was her first mistake.

And also the biggest one.

Her words hurt, remembering all the suffering you had beared, all the while having to hear all the insults people threw at your dear brother...

But you couldn't show her that her words affected you, you just... couldn't.

But Charlie? Oh, hell no... He was going to make her pay for what she said, for hurting you.

"You never quit, do you, Merula? Why are you so angry at them after all these years anyways? Why are you still lashing out at someone who never did something?"

"If you are really the best witch at Hogwarts, why do you feel threatened by them? Why worry about what they are doing?"

Merula was shocked at the amount of anger Charlie had put in his words, backing her until she was far away from where you were. You were stuck on where you were for a second, your mind being unable to catch up to what was happening. But as soon as you did, you ran after Charlie and grabbed his arm to stop him.

"Charlie, it's not worth it. Let go-"

"Careful with the words, Weasley or else-"

"You, be careful with your words, Merula. I won't have you insulting my... friend. Don't get me started on your family issues if you want?"

Telling all of your story to them had been fun, it certainly made you appreciate your time with him and then his family. They were all eagerly listening while Molly and Arthur stayed behind and watched their kids silently listen to you, obediently, without making a voice or doing anything.

"We need to make them come over more often." said Molly with jolly yet slightly tearful eyes. Seeing her kids so happy and well made her emotional, just like it would do to many mothers.

Arthur hugged her closer and nodded, definetly not having any problems with you being around more. "I agree, dear. They fit in well... And I'll have a new artefact in my hands soon, I'm sure they will like it!"

In the end, after everyone was finally gathered around the living room, you seated yourself next to Charlie and hugged his arm closer to yourself, your chin on his shoulder as his warmth almost lulled you to sleep. He was dead tired, and also flustered from earlier. Apart from de-gnoming the whole garden with Bill, he came inside to look for you and how you were doing since you were so anxious before coming here.

But instead was met with you telling your story to his siblings with clear adoration and even he stayed to listen to you and your captivating voice as his heart swelled with love and pride.

"I loved listening to you talk about us... to my siblings. It was lovely." He muttered softly to you, not caring if his family heard him or not.

"Even if they use it against you?" You mumbled into his shoulder sleepily, lifting your head slowly to look at his shining eyes. He chuckled at seeing your usual teasing eyes even if you were tired after talking all day.

He knew his siblings after all, they must have asked a lot of questions.

"Yeah, even if they do that... It made me reminisce about the past years, and seeing you so cozy and happy with them... I just feel so happy, so lucky to have you." He brought a finger to your cheek as he slowly rubbed it, smiling when you nuzzled closer to him.

Normally, it wasn't like him to be so carefree with PDA but right now, he really didn't care. He might feel insecure from time to time, which happened seldomly, but as he sat with you next to him, thighs touching each other as your hand clutched his arm thightly, he knew he had nothing to worry about.

Even if he was blushing and his heart pounded at your sleepy face.

Because he never thought he would actually fall in love, he never thought his life would go to that part. He never imagined himself with a partner, going all the adventures with them. All his life, he thought he would stay single and had to tolerate his mother complain about his choice and beg him to find a partner.

But now?

He had his person, the one for him right between his arms.

"Do you think we will be in love forever?"

"I'll stay for as long as you need, Charlie... Being there and loving you."

And if that didn't prove his point, his previous talk with Bill in the garden and her mother bringing the famous "Weasley Sweater" did.

His mother didn't knit one for everyone after all.

"About my comment earlier... How did the ring shopping go?"

"Surprisingly well, brother... I think I found the ring." He pat his pocket two times to show his point and Bill smiled in a brotherly way and hugged him thightly, proudly.

In two years, there would be another addition to the huge Weasley family.

[skellygutzxx]

ocean blue, what have i done to you?

summary: a list of headcanons in which you are bishop kallamars (adopted) child, first meeting, separation, reunited.

cw: RELIGIOUS/CULTISH THEMES (this is cult of the lamb after all,,,,), written with a gn!reader intended, lowercase intended, mentions of fighting, reader ends up as a caretaker later on in the hc, reader is kind of selectively mute, blood mention, execution of the lambs mentioned, SPOILERS FOR CULT OF THE LAMB

wc: 1004

when you were a young infant, you had no clue as to what the reality of the world was like.

until you did.

surrounded by the destroyed remains of your town, you curled into a ball and sobbed your little toddler eyes out

until you felt the cold arms wrap around your small body, and you curled into the robes of a cultist, a bishop.

from there on out, bishop kallamar was your father. he taught you the ways of the Old Faith.

it was a content life for you, you were right by him for anything you could be there for (along with his witness and his high priests...), like rituals, sermons...

you were showered in gifts and gave to his people, you spread his word, you were devoted to your father

he was happy. you were happy

until narinders betrayal changed it all.

bishop kallamar became paranoid, more anxious. from a generous and mighty god to a cowardly one in what felt like a mere snap of fingers.

you still remember him stumbling into his temple, ears ripped from his body, his blood dripping onto the mosaic floors of his temple

how scared you felt in that moment. how it felt as if the world flipped itself over in a matter of moments.

you were terrified of what this meant for the future.

your father began to distance himself from everyone, you being no exception.

he believed anyone, everyone was plotting against him! you tried to get close with your father again and again, only to end up futile

dissenters became more common within all of the cults, this only made his paranoia worse, you tried your hardest to handle it.

then came the declarations.

every lamb in the realm of the Old Faith to be executed

you watched with horror as you saw people, children, slaughtered at the hands of your family, your father.

you kept your mouth shut, any defiance you had remained on the tip of your tongue like a fool.

you didn't want to disappoint.

in the ocean of grief you felt for the past, you announced your own isolation, and that was the last the people heard or saw of you.

when the final execution came around to you and the news that the red crown had a new bearer, you finally understood it was the beginning of the end.

“the lamb”, as the realm had begun to call them, held his sword to your throat. your eyes held a glint to them, one of exhaustion and one of sadness, but at the same time, one of acceptance.

“you and i both know i will not be the one to fall to your blade tonight,” you began. the lamb kept his blade pointed to your throat, but you notice his eyes visibly soften. “that who you seek is down the hall.”

the lamb lowers his blade, you release a breath you didn’t know you held. “why..? why do you tell me where he awaits, knowing he will fall to my blade?” the lamb demands. you shift your weight onto your foot, your jewelry of gold, gems, pearls, and shells chiming along with your robes. 

“my fath-ahem, bishop kallamar, the moment he exiled the second youngest of his siblings to the realm of death, he lost himself to his fears and his crown. I only hope you will cleanse him and the rest of anchordeep…” your heart ached for the past, a return to normalcy, a return that could never happen.

“please, lamb, bring him to his senses!”

another thing led to you being indoctrinated into the lambs cult.

they let you keep your jewelry, you're grateful.

a few former people of anchordeep ask you questions about your absence from bishop kallamar’s cult. you inform them of your absence and they inform of what happened that did or didnt reach your ears during your isolation period.

through your adjustment period you noticed an egg in a nest, you walked up to it, inspecting it.

“its parents passed away a few weeks ago,” the lamb's voice protrudes. you visibly jump. 

it hits you, you were like the egg once.

alone.

regardless, you're around it more often, the lamb creates a satchel for you to carry around the egg in, you try to take care of it.

lamb begins crusades to “set the bishops free.” and you're nervous.

its a pattern, the witness, then their respective bishop.

witness astaroth is indoctrinated, you wait on bated breath for your father.

“what is this? shamura, heket? leshy? i feel…bleugh.”

you're speaking with witness astaroth, the egg in its satchel close to your chest. you look over and witness astaroth turns around, your eyes widened. You're not sure why you're shocked, you knew it was coming.

the lamb places your father in the healing bay, night falls. you dont go to bed and head to the healing bay. heket and leshy seem to have a similar idea to you. the leaves rustle and heket and leshy snap their heads around, kallamar follows a few seconds later. he lets out a little gasp. nervously, you walk in.

“my darling child…” he whispers, tears welling in his eyes as you walk in. you end up standing next to heket, you feel her eyes bore into your skull. you elicited to ignore it, putting a hand on his shoulder, he places his own on top of it, tracing your knuckles with a cold, ringed thumb. you hug him and weep.

when the hug is broken off, you wipe your tears and kallamar notices the egg, he gives you a quizzical eyebrow raise. he doesn't have eyebrows!

“......not….theirs…..” heket rasps, you give her a grateful look, she looks away.

“yeah! but they've been all over the egg since before i've been here!” leshy chimes in, albeit a little too loud for your liking and your face heats up in embarrassment.

you realize this is the start of something new.

by @skellygutzxx !! do not repost or translate !!

[mochinomnoms]

Kalim holds everything to keep a smile and I swear to god he is not okay.

-Multiple assassination attempts to the point he is probably desensitized. I’m surprised he is not really paranoid about it.

-A betrayal from whom he consider one of the only people in the world he felt safe. The reason he dislikes curry is because Jamil almost died.

-Being handed everything, which probably makes him feel like he really has no real talents beyond being the host and face of celebrations, that and just a wallet to people.

-Oldest brother, but who knows, he might just be the one that was the luckiest to survive till 17. He might’ve even seen some of his younger or older siblings die.

-STILL HAVING A HEART OF GOLD that everyone and their mom knows can be manipulated. And he probably knows deep down that many see him as that, just easy to manipulate.

How is this guy still HOLDING?? He is kinda like Jasmine in the sense that even with all the money in the world, he is caged and alone.

These are all very good points, but also remember:

He's inconsiderate to other's feelings/wants. He will often to things for/with other people against their wishes because he wants to do it because he thinks it will be fun or nice.

Kalim is very in the moment, he needs satisfaction then there and now. If he wants to do something, then it's being done whether you want to or not.

He's not actually a very good housewarden, and while him being instated as housewarden wasn't his own doing, he provides little to no support or leadership to his dorm members. During Book 4 we learn that Scarabia was last in both exam rankings and the Spelldrive tournament, despite the dorm being known for it's incredibly smart and cunning students. He instead distracts his dorm with nonstop parties and let's them do whatever despite that often being against their best interests.

He's so attached to Jamil that it's at both of their detriments. Jamil is so talented but is restricted by Kalim, while it's not really his fault as much as it is their parents. Kalim is also restricting himself by remaining so reliant on Jamil to the point that he probably is unable to do basic household chores.

Idk, I love him so so sooooo much he is me and I love him but I think sometimes it's very easy to assign him as the "uwu innocent soft baby boy that is just a lil dumb" that it can be easy to forget that he is also sometimes not a great person. He's not bad or mean, especially compared to the rest of the cast, but he's not a great one either. It's why I love him because he has so much potential to grow! I really think that the main core of his issues is due to his reliance on Jamil, and now that he is aware of Jamil's feelings as of Book 4, he now has the ability to acknowledge both if their faults and take on the path to become a better person.

[tagthescullion]

The Undead Diary of Luke Castellan

Fandom(s): Percy Jackson and the Olympians

Rating: T

Summary: It's not Luke's fault the Underworld is understaffed and some of its doors connecting with the living world are left unattended.

Words: 2929

AO3 link

I’d like to begin this story by saying this wasn’t my fault.

Not completely. Or well, not exactly.

The decision was mine, I guess. Except that it wasn’t a decision. More like an impulsive action that turned out to have big consequences.

But, in my defence —a line I’ve been using a lot these past few years, and, come to think of it, all of my life—, I was left unsupervised.

Let’s go back to the beginning.

I died.

Was it painful? Yes, very. Was it unfortunate? Many would disagree. Did I have it coming? I might have, yeah.

At any rate, my arrival in the Underworld had been most expected (by both the demigods alive and the ones whose deaths I’d had a hand in). All things considered, betrayal to the gods and my old camp-mates and whatnot, I hadn’t exactly hoped for a loving welcome committee. 

If I’m honest, my judgement and the execution of my sentence were far less harsh than I probably deserved.

Hades himself was in charge of my fate, and to my utmost surprise, he vetoed the judges’ decision to let me burn in acid in the Fields of Punishment. Instead, he suggested I made myself useful, to account for all the destruction I’d brought.

“My domain has expanded exponentially in the past century,” Hades had said. “Daedalus has proved a worthy addition to my efforts to keep it organised efficiently, and you will follow his example if you’re smart.”

And for the past year I had done my job well enough to keep the Lord of the Dead content.

Daedalus was grateful for another pair of hands, so to speak, for I’m not entirely sure I really had hands, or if my spirit’s consciousness believed it hard enough to make it feel that way.

The old man was an incredible and astute engineer, but he had trouble controlling his workers. I, on the other hand, had no idea how to even build a bridge with legos, but I had lots of experience in the field of leading reluctant people, monsters, and even minor deities into battle, which meant organising souls into efficient work groups was a piece of cake. And so I did —carefully watched by one of Hades’ Furies, of course—.

At the beginning, I didn’t see any fellow demigods. Not any I knew, anyway. I was sure some of the souls working under me had been demigods in the past century. 

It wasn’t that I didn’t have the time, Hades had given me Wednesdays off —I didn’t really know what day of the week it was, time is an elusive variant in the Underworld, but the Fury was kind enough to remind me—. I just didn’t have the courage to face my old acquaintances just yet.

I kept to the outskirts of Elysium. Souls don’t need to sleep, don't need to eat, don't need to do anything, truly. So I wandered around, looking remarkably like the souls who’d forgotten themselves after so many years. 

One day, I was spotted by Lee Fletcher. 

It felt like a dagger through my unbeating heart. Lee Fletcher had been my best friend and the second person I’d failed to convince to turn to Kronos’ side. I was glad Lee hadn’t joined in the end, but I’d been shattered when I learned of his demise in Zeus’ Fist at camp.

Lee didn’t look particularly surprised, though. 

“I was hoping you’d show your face around eventually,” he’d said. “You deserve a punch in the face and a friend to listen to an explanation.”

I had then offered my old friend a crooked smile. “That’s why I didn’t come round.”

Lee walked with me for a while in silence. I didn’t feel like explaining, and I suppose Lee didn’t feel like forgiving just yet.

After a couple of weeks, it became our Wednesday routine. Lee dared to speak before I did. He told me of what he knew of our respective siblings, and what he knew of everybody else, really. Demigods died and brought news even after the Battle of Manhattan. Obviously, a lot less frequently, but demigod life wasn’t easy in peace times either.

At some point, Lee managed to convince me to meet Silena. 

I assumed if anybody was also wary of our former friends it was her. She’d been a marvellous informant, but that had also made her an incredible traitor.

There was a fraction of a second of tense silence when we stood face to face. Then Silena bursted out into sobs and hugged me tight.

“We fucked up,” she cried. “We fucked up, we fucked up…”

I agreed, of course. Gods, we’d fucked up big time.

Slowly, Lee threw more people my way. 

Traitors at first, all of them filled with guilt and remorse. I imagine if they weren’t, they would’ve been burning in the Fields of Punishment with the acid the judges had wanted for me.

Then, there’d been a couple of kids who’d never joined my side. They were reluctant, I knew, but they clearly respected Lee enough to go along with him. 

Eventually, I got used to the nasty glares, but, more surprisingly, I started getting comments around the lines of, ‘Something had to be done, though’, ‘They really don’t care much about us, do they?’.

Through Lee’s diplomacy and my visible humility and apologetic behaviour —which wasn’t natural to me, but I wasn’t exactly in a position to start defending myself—, my old friends appeared on my Wednesday walks without being coerced. And I even stopped dreading those meetings so much.

That was until spirits started disappearing.

It was rather chaotic at first. There was fear around, which wasn’t common in Elysium. 

But then the fear turned into hope. They didn’t disappear. Rumours said they were going back to life.

My inner curiosity got the best of me, as it always did.

One Wednesday, I led Lee and Silena to Melinoe��s cave. She wasn’t home, which made me wonder whether she was in her father’s castle or just roaming around, scaring the shit out of innocent mortals. 

When Melinoe wasn’t in her cave, there was always Thanatos, I knew, making sure nobody snooped around like we were doing. Thanatos was a rather strict fellow, and a very good ally to Hades. 

In retrospect, it was easy to see he hadn’t been seen around in a long while. But then again, it’s easier to notice those things in hindsight. Time, as I said before, is hard to keep pace of in the Underworld.

“I don’t like this,” Lee said. “I don’t think we should be here.”

“Don’t worry,” I reassured him. “Worst case scenario, they’ll blame me.”

Lee smiled. That had been a thing even before I left camp. Whenever something fishy happened, Chiron was always quick to point at me rather than Apollo’s golden son.

“I’d rather they blamed nobody,” Silena said. “This place feels terrible, let’s go back.”

I stared at my friends. Didn’t they realise? Thanatos wasn’t here, neither was Melinoe, the Furies would need some time to catch us.

“It’s a way out, guys!”

“Out?” Lee’s expression turned uneasy. “Listen, Luke, we shouldn’t mess around with that idea.”

“It’s been done before,” I insisted. “Or almost.”

“I’m with Lee,” Silena said. “What’s happened, happened. We can’t leave. We can’t go back.”

“There’s nobody here!” I took another tentative step into the cave. I felt a pull, pushing me out into the open, but I went further in. “It feels… strange.”

I felt warm and cold at the same time. I hadn’t felt much since I’d died. My spirit had felt a trace of sensation, but it was muted. As if it was a memory rather than the real thing.

Could I possibly go out? Into the living world?

Over the past year I’d pushed down those feelings of incompleteness. There were still so many things I wanted to do. So many apologies. But two in particular. There were two people I’d have given anything to see.

And perhaps, if there was nobody to stop us, we might be able to leave!

“Luke, stop it!”

But Lee’s voice grew dimmer in my ears. 

I could meet them again, my two girls. Explain, tell them how sorry I was. 

The force pushing me back grew stronger with every step, but it was no match for my determination.

Step after step, the sensations enhanced in my chest. Cold and warmth, and even a hint of nausea. The ground sloped down, slowly at first, then steeper as I kept going.

Then I realised I could smell. It didn’t smell like a musty old cave, it was the smell of summer. Of hot wind and freshly cut grass.

It only made my resolve stronger.

It was pitch dark. The light from the entrance of the cave had been lost completely. 

I went another step further. Then another step. And another step.

I took a deep breath. I could breathe. I was breathing!

Another step. Another step. Another step.

The sound of my heartbeat filled my ears. Loud, strong, quick. Deafening.

Another step. Another step. Another step.

The force pushing me back was so strong now, that I almost tripped. But I regained balance and managed to keep going.

Another step… Another step… Another step…

Then the ground disappeared. 

And I fell.

-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z

My first sensation when I woke up was warmth in my face. 

A memory stirred in my mind. The smell of ripe strawberries, the laughter of children free for the summer holidays, the rhythmic sound of waves, a towel under my body, and the warmth of the sun hitting my exposed skin. 

It was the sun. The sun! I was feeling the sun on my skin!

Then the feeling disappeared, and the brightness I could see through my closed eyelids banished.

A soft hand patted my cheek carefully.

“Hello?” Said a woman’s voice. “Young man?”

I opened my eyes slowly. Outlined by a halo of sunlight the face of a pretty woman of about thirty hovered around a metre away from me.

I tried to speak but my throat felt like sandpaper. 

“It’s okay,” she said. Her voice held a trace of an accent. “It takes a while to get used to being back.”

Back.

In spite of the burning feeling in my throat, my face split into a grin.

“Back,” I rasped. “I’m back.”

The woman helped me sit up. 

I studied her properly now. Her skirt, blouse, and sweater looked old-fashioned. Her hair was loose, but it curled in that style I’d seen in a thousand WWII movies. She had a warm smile and a clever look.

“I’m Luke,” I said, offering her a hand. “My name’s Luke Castellan.”

“Maria,” she replied. 

She looked at my hand and shook it after a second of hesitation. 

“I keep forgetting Americans shake hands. So impersonal,” she stated with a raised eyebrow. Her tone was teasing though.

“Are you—” I caught myself. “Were you dead too?”

“Right to the point, yes?” She smiled. “Yes, I was dead. I have been for a while. But now I’m here, and I need to find my son.”

“Your son?” I was surprised. 

My perception of ‘mother’ isn’t the best, but this woman didn’t look like a mom to me. She looked like an old time movie star, those that always had perfect make-up, in the black-and-white photos I’d seen in the cinema close to my place in Connecticut. 

“Yes,” she said. “My little boy. He should be an old man by now, I would have expected.”

“But he isn’t?” I wondered.

She shook her head, anger and sorrow transformed her expression.

“My daughter passed away,” she told me. “Not too long ago. She should have been old, but she was still a girl.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. I looked down, and when I spoke it was full of bitterness. “Children’s lives should never be at risk.”

And despite what many may think, I do believe that kids shouldn’t be put in the line of fire.

Maria nodded, swallowed, and composed herself so fast I felt a little thread of envy. If only I could’ve put up a cheerful façade that quickly…

“You don’t look old enough to die either,” she decided, giving me a once over.

“I think I deserved it,” I admitted. ‘It was my choice’ sounded a bit too harsh. “Besides, I’m 23, that’s better than dying as a child.”

Maria huffed. “23 is still so young.”

“As opposed to…?” I asked. 

She seemed horrified by my audacity. 

“A lady doesn’t ask nor answer that question,” she said firmly. “And neither should a gentleman.”

I shrugged. She sounded fancy. I guessed in whichever time she came from, old-money people stuck to those ridiculous social rules.

“What do you know of your son?” I wondered. “Do you know where we can find him? Hell, do you know where we are?”

I scanned my surroundings. My eyes were unused to the sun, which made me squint a bit. 

It looked like a meadow. The land was flat, not a hill on sight. The grass was green and soft under me, and far to my right, there was a big house.

“Italy,” she said. “Veneto.”

Holy shit. 

“A bit far from where I expected to be,” I said.

“The Underworld has many exits,” Maria told me. 

My muscles tensed. I had assumed she was a lost mortal, who had followed the path out of the afterlife by accident, but mortals in Italy wouldn’t be likely to call the Underworld by that name. Nor, I guess, would they be likely to have children who were supposed to be old but looked young.

“Oh, I know about all of this,” she smiled. “My children are— were, like you. Demigods. I’m… what’s that term he used? Clear sighted?”

I nodded.

Italian demigods. Did I know Italian demigods? Probably a fair few, but I wasn’t sure if any of the ones I’d met were from Veneto.

And she said she had died ages ago. Whoever her children were they would have been taken out of time. 

It rang a bell in my memory, but my mind wasn’t clear enough yet for me to recall properly. Not to mention I’d known dozens of demigods who had bizarre stories. 

Thalia was a tree for a while, she’d looked younger than she should have been that time she pushed me off that cliff. 

Annabeth and her little gang had been in that Casino thing in Vegas, that had messed up time for them, too. 

And the Sea of Monsters, there were a lot of islands there where children could have been stuck in time for decades.

“Are your—,” I hesitated. “Did your children ever get to camp? Camp Half-Blood, in New York?”

Maria’s expression turned dubious. “I think so. Bianca didn’t explain much, she didn’t stay long. But I reckon wherever my boy is, it’s in America. That’s the last place I saw them.”

That’s where she had died then.

“Then camp’s our best bet,” I said. “He’s alive, he’s likely to have at least crossed paths with somebody from there.”

She nodded. 

She turned and pointed at the house in the distance. “That’s my family’s home. You can stay there for a bit. To rest.”

She stood and offered a hand for me to get up too.

“I— Yeah, thanks,” I said. I felt weak. I’d just come back to life. She was right to say it took some adjustment. I wondered how long she’d been back. “I could use a place to sit for a bit.”

In exchange, I could help her find camp and her son. Assuming the kid was still alive, that was. I wouldn’t go to camp myself. I’d be stoned the moment I set a foot in there. But leading Maria there was the least I could do after she’d been so kind to me.

I just hoped her son wasn’t somebody I knew. That could make things awkward.

We walked for a bit in silence. As we got closer, the house grew bigger and bigger. ‘House’ was an understatement, I thought. The place was huge. 

Balconies, huge floor to ceiling windows, at least four storeys tall. It had a path that led to the main entrance lined with orchard trees, and off to the side there was a less pretentious dirt path that I assumed went to the servant’s entrance.

“I’m sorry,” I said, before I could stop myself, pointing at the immense building in front of us. “But did your family own Italy?”

Maria gave me a funny look. “It’s not such an ostentatious place.”

Perhaps if you are related to the Windsor family, then Maria’s family’s house isn’t ostentatious. If, like me, you come from the US suburbs, then it’s something taken right out of Downton fucking Abbey.

“My father was a marquess,” she explained, when she caught my cynical expression. “Sua grazia, il Signor di Angelo, and all the paraphernalia it came with. The house is all right, but we weren’t…”

But I had stopped listening.

Di Angelo. I did remember that name. Di Angelo was that little kid who’d popped out of nowhere with an army of undead soldiers and his godly father on toe.

But not even I couldn’t be that unlucky. 

“What’s your son’s name?” I asked, as casually as I could.

“Niccolò,” she said with a proud smile. “But everybody always called him Nico.”

Nico. Nico di Angelo.

Well, fuck. To nobody’s surprise, I could be that unlucky.

[willowed-wisp]

HER KNIGHT, HIS HEART - part six

previous | next

Ser Harwin Strong x female!OC/x reader

WARNINGS: mentions of non-con, suggestive themes, mentions of death, descriptions of childbirth

Their bliss had to end at some point. And it was business as usual. Logistics hadn’t been taken into account upon being wed.

Where would they take up as permanent residence?

With Harwin being in the City Watch and her wanting to watch over Alicent and Rhaenyra, they were to remain in King Landing. The Princess would have ordered she remained in Court anyhow.

Elspeth secretly hoped to smuggle her younger sibling away - from the grasp of the Crown and Lord Hand. It would have been easily done… not in her condition, though. She could barely smuggle herself anywhere, let alone another.

She had no idea where Cannibal was. Dragon tamers unable to keep them in the Dragonpit, what was the point in having a dragon if she didn’t know where it roosted?

The newly-wed bride did not want the stress- and she wouldn’t tolerate it. Harwin had left for watch with a kiss. At least they were allowed to sleep in the same bed- in the same chambers.

Despite the ethereal haze she found herself in the thralls of, Elspeth was aware of the wariness of the council concerning Viserys’ marital standings. Rhaenyra had been less exuberant, watching her father walk around gardens with a twelve year old Laena Velaryon. It wasn’t her business to expose Alicent, but with this growing sense of betrayal the Strong found herself approaching the princess’s chambers.

Knocking in a weak motion with her left hand, “Rhaenyra…” A voice came from the other side. The woman plodded through the door, Rhaenyra getting ready for cupbearing duties. A frown turned to smile seeing Elspeth.

"I trust you enjoyed your afternoon with Ser Harwin..."

"You should not think about such things, princess..." A gleeful tone, "I hear Lord Corlys and Rhaenys are in Court... as is little Laena..." That struck a cord in Rhaenyra. Elspeth closed the door, withdrawing further into the room. "You can talk to me, you know... I'm no longer a Hightower, after all." Picking at her nails, not sure when the right time was.

"How does it come so easy for you?"

"What are you referring to?"

"Being yourself. Everybody tries to smother me from me... what are the 'order of things' supposed to be? My father named me as his heir, they all bent the knee to me... and so their loyalty..." Rhaenyra slumped against whatever was closest- the foot of her bedframe. "You didn't relent for two years when your father lined up suitors for you and planned engagement after engagement against your will, yet here you stand, a Strong because you fell in love and made the choice," Tears brewed as her blood boiled- Elspeth could feel it from across the room.

The woman dragged herself closer, "I thought you wanted to 'fly around on Syrax with me and eat cake'? Not the throne. What's changed, Nyra?"

The girl struggled under the green gaze, "I don't know... I never thought I would ascend to the throne... just because I am a girl. If my father remarries and produces male heirs, my claim along with the memory of my mother and Baelon fades into the background. I will not be thrown to the wayside by my father's new bride..." She spat with pure venom.

Now was the time, "There's something you should know..." Risen blonde eyebrow in response, "My father coerced and manipulated Alicent to give company to the King..."

Rhaenyra's eyes glossy, "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I think you deserve better than to lose a friend because of a moronic play at power for a stupid chair," Elspeth did not care how Rhaenyra reacted- this could dissuade serious ramifications, "Blame Otto Hightower, not my sister."

The Princess was statuesque- thinking, "How long have you known?"

Her gut felt torn- wavy. "A half-year," A simple nod, but Rhaenyra chewed her lip while Elspeth tore her nail down to the cuticle- both drawing blood, "The King was so devoted to Queen Aemma, that I never thought the King would remarry..."

Her blonde hair shook, "You always have and always will be a Hightower. You didn't think to tell me that Alicent of all people was going behind my back to marry my father... I haven't lost one friend... I have lost two sisters!" The Princess had screamed, growing in closeness so that it was directly in Elspeth's face.

"Rhaenyra..."

"You will address me as 'Your Grace'! Now leave before I have you removed..." Elspeth was utterly defeated... how had she thought Rhaenyra would act anything less than what she had? Because she hoped that she would see Alicent as her best friend and not as an usurper.

But know she saw Elspeth Strong as one in the same.

Though Elspeth would stand by what she said and the honesty she held. Hoping that the blow was lessened to the Princess when Alicent was named as King Viserys' betrothed. The woman would hold her baby sister as she cried- allowed to in Elspeth's arms, instead of the Princess who did so alone in her chambers and on the back of Syrax.

She ventured out that very afternoon on the back of her horse, unaware of where Cannibal had abandoned her to. No guard would have been able to capture the wild Lady Strong- as she rode like the wind on the back of Slapdash- or 'Dash'. She ventured down to the beaches- greeting remarks unto the fishermen that scattered the sodden beach at lowtide. "Lady Hightower, or should I say 'Lady Strong'..." The wise, feminine voice spoke from behind- settling at her side. “Congratulations are in order.”

"Princess Rhaenys, I'm flattered that you even know my name," She was still gorgeous- moon-kissed hair and soulful eyes. She had never been the 'Queen That Never Was' to Elspeth, she had always thought, 'The Queen That Should Have Been'.

A slight laugh caught the ferocious howling winds, "You're much too modest... you've defied every order you have ever been barked, I admire that kind of strength," They continued to ride at a steady trot, beside one another.

"You flatter me so. But I think you speak for reason, Princess, not out of necessity- what business do you have with me?"

"Yet you are a wildcard. Just like your father... at least you are shrewd.”

"I have never heard the Lord Hand be called a wildcard before..."

The Princess stopped, "I may live off-shore, Elspeth, but I am no fool. The Hightowers have never married into Valyrian heritage- bar your sister now. So how by the Seven, did you manage to bond with a dragon," not a question, "Otto Hightower is not your father. Prince Daemon is, but from the look on your face... that is not news to you."

Elspeth turned around her horse, to face the Velaryon, "With all due respect, Princess, what does that matter? Nobody at court is aware, and they never will be." Rearing Dash around, away from Rhaenys.

"Those blonde hairs will keep regrowing," A smile- Elspeth didn't know of what kind- graced Rhaenys' lips as she spun her head back, "Alyrie Florent, unlike everybody in her House- had always held such beauty, like yours. I used to call her 'Red', not very inventive but it suited that gorgeous hair and her temperance. She was my closest friend even before Otto was made Lord Hand to my cousin." Contemplation slowed the Princess- memories behind those eyes unravelled as she spoke.

"Why did she never mention it?" A tear slithered down her cheek, quickly wiped away before facing the now much closer Princess Rhaenys. Eyes solemn and kind- she could imagine her mother being friends with such a formidable lady.

Rhaenys gave a warm smile, "When Alyrie was first with child- with Gwayne- I was there during his birth and through till his second nameday. Then she was with child again- you, she was different. Taken unwillingly by Prince Daemon... and mortified that you carried the blood of the dragon," she paused, a soulful gaze, "I never spoke to her again after that. Otto Hightower forbade her associating with Targaryens or Velaryons because of what happened. And so, I never got to know her other children and Gwayne will have no memory of me."

Elspeth fought that urge to bawl, "I will repeat the question, Princess. Why does any of this matter?" Not preventing the droplets descending down her cheeks- not unnoticed by the Velaryon, who garnered closer- touching distance.

"When Viserys marries your half-sister, she will produce male heirs and then a battle for succession will take place. When you have to pick a side- Rhaenyra's or the new claimant, I wanted you to know," The woman grabbed Elspeth in her gloved hand- locking eyes with one another, "That you are always safe and welcome at Driftmark- with your Lord husband and future kin." Elspeth was not one for physical affection from those she didn't know, but she held tighter onto that hand- as if it were that of Alyrie Hightower.

"That is very generous of you, my Princess," Those doe eyes looked upon the younger woman.

Hand still holding hers, "No need for such formalities. It is Rhaenys to you, as it should have always been."

"Am I-," Hesitant to ask- fearing the answer, "Am I like her? When she was my age?"

Rhaenys gave a low laugh, "Forgive me. It is just... I have to remind myself that it is not her hand in mine. You are the spitting image and essence of her. In every way, shape and form."

Lady Strong had returned to the Red Keep. Head clearer and shoulders bore less weight. Settled in her husbands chambers- looking at the blank page on the desk. To her elder brother.

No ink, parchment remained. She didn’t exactly know what she wanted to write- she needed stability for the good of her and so she could better the lives of those she loved. Gwayne had remained so clear and fair in Oldtown. But she could not muster the words to ask him and so that blank slate remained the same.

Until firm hands braced her shoulders, she sat there trying to come up with some kind of genius that awaited. Thumbs wound into the tense muscles from being hunched over. A moan slipped through her parted lips, “Lady Strong,” it was him, “watch your mouth, I may put it to other uses…” a heat inside of her funnelled.

Lips on hers, tongue delving as she keened her face to his- bearded and rough. “Get on the bed, Ser.” Her last words before only screaming his name and curses.

Hopefully the entire Red Keep heard who she belonged to that looming sunset.

When the sunrise hooded the sky in peach and aqua- she knocked at the Princess’ door, knowing she would be up and ready to ride Syrax, without word she entered. Sharp blue eyes burned her, “You are not welcome in here…”

But she was not leaving, “I know that, Princess. But may I explain- you didn’t give me chance the other day - if our friendship was worth anything, let me do that much?”

She weighed up the idea, “You have five minutes.”

“My father wanted a linchpin in the Crown... and Alicent was his way in,” the Princess was listening with care, “She had been taking some of my gowns and some of our mother’s- I approached the Lord Hand, who… forcefully…. stopped my investigation,” her hand went to the spot that had been bruised, before it dropped to her side. Rhaenyra seemed to get the insinuation.

“If we are to be friends again. Are there any more secrets you are keeping from me?”

“Your uncle, Daemon, is my father. Hence I bonded with the Cannibal- not that I know where the beast is…”

Rhaenyra was taken aback at first, before realising the similarities between the pair.

Unruly.

Furious.

Deadly.

The personalities were uncanny, yet Elspeth held remorse and accountability for her own actions while Daemon had never been the honest type. “And how long have you been withholding that from me?” Impatience rued Rhaenyra’s voice, not that Elspeth was entitled to give her an answer- it hadn’t necessarily been the princess’s business. But she wasn’t to say that aloud.

“Not even a week… my father told me. Mother was attacked by the Prince, I am the result.” Rhaenyra was young, Elspeth truly hoped that when she grew older that she would see the bigger picture if she didn’t already see it in that second.

Elspeth never wanted to hurt anybody - she wanted the least collateral damage for those she cared for. And sometimes that meant keep information secret. Rhaenyra had such loses in that year, she couldn’t bear to scorn her with dragonfyre onto the already burned girl.

“So what did you come here to say? Make excuses?”

“I came to say that I’m sorry. For lying to you, Princess,” it took everything Elspeth had not to drop to her knees, “And I hope you can forgive me because I cannot lose a true sister of the soul- I will never lie to you again, lest I be sent down to the Seven hells-,” cut off by the Princess’ body wrapped around her own. Chin nestled into one another’s shoulders. Rhaenyra cried from the bottom of her heart. As she always had been able to in the arms of Elspeth Strong.

And Elspeth was neither Florent, Hightower or Targaryen… from that day onward she was a Strong and she upheld that name well.

Especially when she was carrying the future heir to their House. The woman discovered a week after Alicent’s wedding.

She had nearly forgotten about her dragon, but it showed up when she discovered the news. Despite the advice from Maesters not to ride dragons in her condition- who was going to stop Elspeth Strong?

Upon her return- smelling like dragon - she thought her husband would be a little more concerned of her dealings but he just twirled her around. Causing her to giggle. The pair went against another advisory of the Maesters…

The more she flew on the Cannibal they became acquainted, friends. One soul. And she detested calling her companion ‘the Cannibal’. So she asked the dragon about itself… not much response was received- dragons only understood Valyrian, not spoke it. They circled around the plains Dragonmont; the beast’s nest.

She had asked its name over and over- when it reached that midnight indigo dusk, the Cannibal roared at the horizon.

Dusk.

Remembering her mother’s words.

'The one of dusk and blood.'

She spoke, “Ebrion,” the dragon roared.

Ebrion the Cannibal. But for all intents and purposes he was no longer a cannibal- that’s what Elspeth told herself anyway.

She had never experienced such pain liked childbirth. Nor had she felt it being restrained from the touch of her husband- who had been barricaded outside of the door. With the Lord Hand and Ser Gwayne- who she had sent a letter to two months prior, requesting him there to meet his future niece or nephew.

Elspeth wouldn’t have heard the end of it if she hadn’t. He had always been a diva.

But the woman wanted one person as her head went numb from the pain, “Harwin!” A banshee, the Maester attempted to calm her down. She batted his hand away, “I want my husband. Harwin!”

A ruckus from outside. There he was, barrelling through the heavy doors- a midwife swiftly closed them. His fingers weaving through her hair. Elspeth’s heart rate dropped, she could breathe easier… now he was here. Holding her hand in his over side palm. Kissing her temple. “You’re doing beautifully, my heart…” His voice low and charming. Her gentle knight…

An involuntary push.

And the cries of a babe filled the room. All the chaos in the room background noise. She purely focused on that sweet, innocent face as the babe was wrapped and cleaned by one of the many women in the room. “It is a boy, Ser Strong.” Harwin’s nose nuzzled into her neck.

The woman witnessed her husband - her heart - fall in love with another person. As he had seen with her the entirety of her pregnancy. She had spoken to this tiny human being for nine months in her stomach. And now he was finally there. “Do you have a name, my Lord?”

“Alyric.” Her heart beamed, looking into the bluebell eyes of her beloved. And back to the identical ones of Alyric Strong. Named after his grandmother, and looked wholly like his father. Down to the dark hair and that grin.

Once in his father’s arms Alyric stopped his crying and fell into a sleep. She was covered once again- bloodied sheets and afterbirth out of the room with Maester and midwives.

The room filled by her father and brother. “Meet Alyric Strong.” Her father looked tired as per usual but adoration filled his eyes at the boy cradled in her arms. Gwayne was instantly reaching to hold the boy.

A smile on his face, before finding himself again. Clearing his throat, “May I hold my nephew, dear sister? Ser Harwin?” They both gave gentle nods, handing the bundled babe to his uncle- whose eyes glazed over. “He resembles his father.”

As she rested against the muscular shoulder, she looked at her father. The Hand of the King couldn’t take his eyes away from Alyric. “You may pass Alyric to our father, Gwayne. If you wish, father?” The brown haired man nodded, cradling Alyric much better than Gwayne had- he would learn when he had children of his own.

Her father didn’t say much at all. Leaving a kiss upon the boy’s forehead, Harwin received his son back into his arms; where he could stay for the rest of his life simply looking upon the babe.

The men left for the duties. Gwayne would return back to Oldtown in a week’s time. Ser Lyonel, avoiding the Lord Hand, arrived later that day. While Elspeth slept. Her sister carried the King’s child, and for the duration of her pregnancy had not been allowed to exit her chambers but she was due in three months. Little Alyric was not starved of visitors, blessed with the love of two Targaryen princesses.

Rhaenyra visited the day of his birth. Claiming he was a handsome child who would grow up with the fairness of his mother.

Rhaenys visited while her husband Corlys was fighting in the Stepstones- alongside Daemon. “You have been blessed with a handsome boy,” she arrived while Harwin was in attendance. “If you ever wish for him to be sent to Driftmark… all you need do is ask,” a warning. If Daemon made it out of the war against the Triarchy, she may indeed make use of that offer.

But, “I will not be scared of tyrannical Prince,” Elspeth warned a smile from the princess.

“I didn’t think you would, Elspeth.”

Elspeth loved being a mother, but she also loved to fly around on Ebrion. The dragon did not devour young Alyric upon meeting the future inheritor of Harrenhal- the dragon merely nuzzled the boys forehead with gentle touch. But she limited the encounters while he was so young- not blind to Ebrion’s past.

Elspeth’s own nephew was born with a mane of angelic Valyrian hair. Prince Aegon Targaryen. Rhaenyra’s claim was diluted. Her father called for Aegon to be named heir, because of his sex.

Harwin’s uniform had been ripped off his body by his Lady wife every night he returned from patrols. And she was with child four months after the birth of Alyric.

Despite the strengthened relation with Otto Hightower, Elspeth couldn’t help but support her Princess’ claim to the throne.

She would follow Rhaenyra to whatever end. But hopefully it did not come to that.

Her and Harwin would protect their children fiercely. With a dragon at her call.

Even if that meant facing against her family in a battle of succession… at least she knew their weaknesses…

___________________________

If you wanna be tagged just message me or leave a comment!

Series taglist:-

@llynx7 @babyred7

[cherryzlem]

Thoughts about Klavier and Apollo's respective relationship with Kristoph and how it could (and should) have had much more impact on both of them after his trial(s):

I see in some klapollo fic that the two of them tend to share a more or less strong connexion over the fact that they both knew Kristoph on a personnal and professionnal level. To make it short they both looked up to Kristoph, as a boss and as an older brother, and, I cannot stress this enough, the betrayal and the heartbreak they should have felt knowing he was a murderer and a manipulator was definetly skipped, even ignored in the games (the most we got as in-game evidence of Kristoph's influence was Apollo paraphrasing him in Dual Destinies, and that is NOTHING compared to what it could have been). So I'm going to make it up to you all with this analysis of their respective relationships with him.

Starting with Apollo. First all you need to know before we start looking at what kind of relationship he had with his mentor, is that Apollo definetly doesn't have a high self-esteem and that that is something that can easily be played with.

Kristoph definetly had some kind of impact on Apollo, that just makes sense given he literally taught him how to be a defense attorney, but the thing is that Kristoph is a manipulator (and a damn competent one at that, we'll go back to that) and if he hadn't been sent to prison who knows what he could have done of our beloved Apollo ? Kristoph is the kind of manipulator that breaks people, the way he did with Phoenix.

Personally i think it's very unlikely that Kristoph was planning to make Apollo do any really traumatizing things, but in Apollo's place i couldn't help but wonder "what if i had ended up like him?" And THAT is what we could have gotten in the games, because paraphrasing Kristoph with a good old "Evidence is everything" is not enough to show how much he could have changed Apollo if he had been given the chance.

And finally, Apollo spent probably a lot of time with Kristoph, learning from him and looking up to him. Kristoph likes to seem friendly and approachable so that people can trust him and that definetly worked on Apollo aswell, so the betrayal he must have felt when he found out Kristoph to be such a horrible person, the heartbreak that his mentor was nothing more than a liar, it must have been unbearable (AND THE GAMES DON'T DIVE DEEP ENOUGH INTO APOLLO'S EMOTIONS GODDAMMIT).

But whatever Apollo felt after that revelation can in no way compare to what Klavier felt.

Get this, Klavier and Kristoph are brothers, meaning they definetly spent most of their childhood together. They lived in the same house, they probably went to the same school and they spent loads of time together. Klavier definetly loved his brother, he trusted him and admired him the way one admires their older siblings, and he learned he had been manipulated by him. Klavier was used by his brother in order to get Phoenix Wright disbarred and then 7 years later he was framed as a murderer. I also saw mentioned somewhere that Kristoph had the false evidence ready before Phoenix took his place at the Gramarye trial which very much implies that Kristoph was planning to CHEAT in order to beat Klavier during his first trial, that just feels so so fucked up. It's hard to really know for sure if Kristoph actually cared about Klavier but planning to cheat in order to show his little brother that he's just better than him is a good indicator as to what Kristoph thought of Klavier.

In the games, Klavier is never, ever, shown to be affected by Kristoph's actions and that is such a missed opportunity. Sure, the games aren't about him, but still, even just a simple "how are you feeling after all of that ?" Would've already been a little bit better than just forgetting about Klavier's emotions I believe.

Finally, just a little thought but how do you think Klavier feels when he realises how much he looks like his brother ? Somewhere during the 7 year gap he even started styling his hair like Kristoph, do you think it was because he admired him so much he wanted to look like him ? Or maybe to feel closer to his brother ? Why, god, why didn't he change his hairstyle in Dual Destinies ? Was it because he's just still too attached to his brother to let go of the memory of him ? Was it out of spite, to show Kristoph he could cope with the resemblance he shares with his him ?

That's all I got on that subject, that was a long one but god I needed to get all of this down because it just felt so unfair for Apollo and Klavier to be treated like that 😭

[zelandiangelo]

happy birthday kaiba beloved

I had to give up on my pipe dream of finishing this absolute monster of a fic in time for his birthday LOL new scenes keep popping up when I think I've finished a big chunk... like a hydra...

but I can't let his birthday pass without posting anything so >_< here is the opening of the fic, subject to change a bit LOL. most biggest of giant shoutouts to @moonogre for reading my draft despite it being filled with holes and for loving it and cheering me on you are the realest one <3

(kaiba i'm sorry that you are just annoyed about everything happening to you here I promise it gets better later when you have some Character Development TT_TT)

Seto doesn’t have nightmares often anymore. But when he does, they’re always about the same thing: Mokuba. More specifically, Mokuba missing, in peril, in pain.

He hasn’t seen his younger sibling yet in this dream, but a dreadful certainty grips him, one that tells him if he doesn’t find Mokuba fast, something terrible will happen to them. Frantic, he runs through unfamiliar terrain that shifts and warps about him, calling Mokuba’s name over and over to no avail.

Until without warning, Mokuba appears within view, and with them the scene before Seto becomes very familiar; it’s not the first time he’s witnessed it, nor is it the second.

The five-headed dragon looms, poised to strike Mokuba, whose eyes are wide with surprise and terror. Seto knows what will happen next. The dragon’s jaws will stretch wide, then let loose a beam of energy that will streak towards his defenseless younger sibling. Both Seto and Mokuba will watch, rooted to the spot, until at the last second Joey Wheeler will throw his body into the path of the strike and disappear on impact. Seto had never felt more grateful to anyone than he had at that moment, and it had only made him hate Joey Wheeler all the more.

Wheeler is the very picture of an older brother, all warmth and selfless instinct, and it isn’t limited to his sister. He looks out for her, for Yugi and his other friends, even for people who have actively tried to kill him. And, yes, he looks out for Mokuba. Seto hates him for it, naturally. But he also trusts Wheeler more than he would ever admit to his face.

So he knows Mokuba will be safe from this attack. The dragon opens each of its five maws, a synchronized growl building in its throats, until, with a roar that reverberates deep in Seto’s core, it unleashes a blindingly powerful blast. And sure enough, Wheeler appears, blazing like a sunrise as it bleeds over the horizon. He and Mokuba both flinch as the blow lands, but while Wheeler’s body dissolves, Mokuba remains unscathed.

Mokuba turns to face Seto, their eyes filled with tears and distress, but there’s something else buried beneath it: betrayal. That Seto had allowed Wheeler’s sacrifice. That he hadn’t done so first. The image fractures, and dozens of copies of Mokuba accuse him with their existences. Mokuba on their knees on the floor after being struck. Mokuba sulking after Seto snaps at them in a fit of stress or anger. Mokuba confronting Seto after his victory, reminding him how twisted and broken he is.

They - the original, he thinks - turn away from Seto to stare at the spot where Wheeler had last stood. He reaches out for them; whether he could have made it, he doesn’t know, because his phone’s grating ringtone jolts him awake.

Still half-asleep, Seto fumbles for his phone and accepts the call. Leftover emotions from the fading dream fester in his chest, and the bitterness overflows, dripping from his mouth when he answers. “Do you have any idea what time it is,” he snaps flatly, not caring who’s on the receiving end of his ire.

“It’s 5:30 in the morning, Mr. Kaiba,” comes his secretary’s smooth response. No sooner are the words out of her mouth than Kaiba’s alarm goes off, proving her right. He curses under his breath as he shuts the alarm off.

“And just what could be important enough for you to call me at 5:30 in the morning?” he asks. Though his tone is hostile, he’s sure she’ll have a satisfactory answer. His secretary is very good at what she does, as evidenced by how put together she sounds at this time of the morning. Seto, meanwhile, doesn’t have enough of his wits about him to even begin to guess what could be so important.

“Damon Graves wants to have dinner with you this evening.”

Seto inhales sharply. He’s been trying to facilitate a meeting with the CEO of Graves Entertainment for months on end, and finally the fruits of his labor have paid off - on the worst possible day they could have.

“What time?” he tries, hoping that this man’s definition of “evening” is some ridiculously early or late time.

“Around six o’clock, sir.”

Seto grits his teeth. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible. You’ll have to reschedule it for me.”

“No can do, sir,” she responds immediately. “Mr. Graves informed me that he’ll be between flights at this time. You either meet with him today, or wait another two months for an opening in his schedule.”

“I’ll wait, then.”

His secretary pauses. “Are you sure that’s wise, Mr. Kaiba?”

He narrows his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“This man is very… particular. Trust me when I say that when he offered the choice of ‘now’ or ‘later’, it really wasn’t much of a choice at all.”

Seto blows out a slow, frustrated breath, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. He absolutely does trust her in this matter, but the ‘choice’ in question isn’t as simple as she thinks it is.

It’s not a choice between doing business with this man or not. It’s a choice between this man or Mokuba.

Mokuba has been looking forward to this release event for weeks - and, ever since he had cleared his schedule and promised Mokuba they would go together, so has Seto. Despite the difficulties, Seto enjoys being the CEO of KaibaCorp; he enjoys the power and respect that come with the position, enjoys knowing that it’s his own hard work that earned him those things, and that he doesn’t have to rely on anyone else for them. But right now, all he wants is to be able to shed that responsibility like dead snakeskin, to pass it off to someone else and spend time with his younger sibling.

But he can’t, and he knows it. KaibaCorp’s success is what keeps himself and Mokuba powerful. Provided for. Safe.

Like his secretary said, it’s not much of a choice, at the end of the day. But Seto wonders if he shouldn’t have agonized over this decision more.

“Fine,” he says dully. “I’ll meet with him tonight. Let me know the details as soon as you’ve worked them out.”

“Understood, sir.”

Seto hangs up without fanfare and leans back against the pillows. A sour feeling permeates him as he tries to figure out how he’ll break the news to Mokuba. He can already picture it; their eyes, which will surely be shining with anticipation for the promised evening, dimming with disappointment when Seto tells them why, exactly, he won’t be able to make it.

That image - Mokuba’s distraught expression - tugs on the fading strands of the dream. Bitterness returns to him in a rush, amplified tenfold from what it had been before the call.

There’s only one thing he can think to do to make his failure up to Mokuba, but he’d almost rather give his company over to Pegasus. Almost.

Seto doesn't have Wheeler’s number saved in his contacts (why would he need it?), so he opens up the group chat that Yugi had invited him to. Though Seto rarely speaks up in it, and only ever to respond directly to Yugi, he meticulously keeps up with every message sent. Wheeler’s messages aren’t labeled with his name, only his number, but it’s obvious enough which ones are from him.

The first two calls Seto makes are rejected almost instantly. Wheeler finally picks up on the third attempt.

“I swear,” he snaps without so much as a greeting, “if this is some kinda scam or prank or what have ya, I’m gonna-”

“Wheeler.”

The line falls silent.

“Kaiba?” he finally asks, sounding in as much disbelief as Seto himself that this call has been placed. “The fuck d’you want at-” he pauses, groans, and continues - “quarter to six in the goddamn morning?”

“Are you free this evening?”

Wheeler splutters. “Am I fr- what? What for? Since when d’you call me up about my Saturday plans?”

“Since mine were derailed by a last-minute work meeting that can’t be rescheduled.”

“Oh, boo hoo,” Wheeler taunts. “Poor Mr. CEO’s gotta put a little work into running that big company of his. What a cryin’ shame. Look, whatever favor it is that you’re about to ask, count me out.”

Seto grits his teeth and resists the urge to hang up on Wheeler. “I was supposed to take Mokuba to the release event this evening.”

There’s another pause. When Wheeler next speaks, some of the hostility is gone from his voice. “The tag duelin’ one?”

“So you have been keeping up.”

Wheeler ignores the jab. “So, what, ya want me to take him instead?”

Seto swallows the urge to correct the pronoun and says simply, “I’ll pay you.”

“Woah, hang on, I didn’t say anything about…” Wheeler trails off, probably weighing his financial situation against Seto’s, and drops the subject. “Why me?” he asks instead. “Don’t you guys have servants for this kinda thing? A butler or whatever?”

Because our parents died so long ago that Mokuba doesn’t even remember them. Because I can’t even take one day off to spend time with Mokuba. Because there’s no one else who really cares about them.

All of these potential answers are painful, but the three word response he offers Wheeler hurts him just as much to admit aloud: “Mokuba likes you.”

Seto holds his breath as he waits out the longest pause yet. Finally, the line crackles as Wheeler lets out a gusty sigh. “What time?”

-----

Seto opens the door himself when Wheeler knocks on it. The two don’t bother to exchange pleasantries. Wheeler regards him with… not open hostility - they’ve maybe shared one too many traumatic experiences for that - but wariness, like a dog being introduced to a stranger for the first time. In a way, maybe he is; it’s been a long time since the two of them have actually spoken to one another in-person, and they’ve never done so at Seto’s home.

Wheeler finally breaks the silence. “There anything important I need to know?”

Seto frowns. “Important how?”

“Rules. Allergies. Bedtime. That kinda thing.”

“You’re not a babysitter, Wheeler. Mokuba’s old enough to take care of… himself.” He hesitates over the pronoun; misgendering Mokuba rankles him, but he doesn’t want to out them, either. As far as Seto knows, he’s the only person Mokuba has told.

“Isn’t the kid, like, thirteen? I know I coulda used some adult supervision at that age.”

“Mokuba’s seventeen, you moron.”

“Seriously?” Wheeler’s brow furrows. “He’s even shorter’n Yugi.”

“And that is precisely why you should know better than to judge a child’s age by their height.”

Wheeler raises an eyebrow. “So, if he’s practically an adult anyway, what exactly are you payin’ me for here?”

Oh, right. He had promised to pay this moron, hadn’t he? “It’s a tag duel. I’m paying you to be Mokuba’s teammate.”

“Right.” Wheeler rolls his eyes. “At least answer the allergies question. If I’m gonna be feedin’ the kid, I don’t wanna accidentally kill him and have you on my ass about it for the rest of my life.”

Seto scowls. “Mokuba’s not allergic to anything.”

“There, see? Wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

Before Seto can retort, Mokuba enters the room, and their face lights up. “Joey!”

Wheeler’s whole demeanor changes. “Hey, Mokuba!” he calls. The two cross the room to meet each other. As Seto glowers on, Wheeler gets his younger sibling into a gentle headlock; Mokuba laughs as Wheeler gives them an affectionate noogie before letting go. “You ever done one ‘a these things before?”

“I’ve done a few small local tournaments,” Mokuba says. “Never a tag duel before, though.”

“How ‘bout a draft duel?”

“What’s a draft duel?”

Wheeler laughs. “It’s what we’re goin’ to right now.”

“It is?” Mokuba’s eyes widen. “I, uh. Didn’t read the info too closely.”

“Don’t you worry, kid,” Wheeler says, throwing an arm around Mokuba’s shoulders. “Your old pal Joey Wheeler is a seasoned card shop veteran. C’mon, I’ll explain how it works on the way over. We gotta get goin’ if we don’t wanna miss it.”

Mokuba pauses briefly on their way out to wrap their arms tightly around Seto. “Bye, Seto,” they whisper. “Good luck at your business dinner thing.”

“Good luck to you too,” Seto murmurs, squeezing gently back. “Don’t listen to Wheeler if he tells you to do anything stupid.”

“I heard that.”

“Hey,” Mokuba says, releasing Seto, “he said ‘if’, not ‘when’. I think that’s an improvement.”

“Merely a slip of the tongue on my part.”

“So he admits he makes mistakes!” Wheeler raises his eyebrows. “I think your brother’s gettin’ soft in his old age, Mokuba.”

Seto scowls. “I’m twenty-one years old.”

“So, older’n me.” Wheeler grins lopsidedly, and it needles Seto that Mokuba laughs so easily alongside him. “Just leave the duellin’ to us youngsters, Gramps. We’ll bring home a trophy to remind ya of your glory days.”

The remark hits a little too close. It’s been over a year since Seto last participated in any kind of official duel - which isn’t all that much time, but at the speed Duel Monsters moves, it’s practically ancient history. Seto thinks at first that it was a calculated jab on Wheeler’s part; but he’s missing that expression he usually wears when he goes toe-to-toe with Seto, the one where his eyes burn like lasers, white-hot and focused unwaveringly on Seto, drawing a retaliation out of him without fail every time. Instead, his attention is focused on amusing Mokuba with his antics.

And so, for Mokuba’s sake, Seto swallows the remark rising in his throat. At least I have glory days to revisit, Wheeler.

“Whatever,” he says instead, stiffly. “Roland’s ready for you two with the car.”

Seto hides his envy behind a mask of indifference as he watches them go.

[fl3shm4id3n]

𝓑𝓮𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪 𝓣𝓪𝓶𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓮𝓪𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓬𝓻𝓪𝓼𝓱 𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓭 𝓸𝓷 𝓟𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓸𝓻𝓪 𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓘𝓘

ꜱᴏɴɢ: ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴇᴇᴋɴᴅ - ꜱᴛᴀʀɢɪʀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʀʟᴜᴅᴇ (ꜰᴛ. ʟᴀɴᴀ ᴅᴇʟ ʀᴇʏ)

Tw: Betrayal, slavery, torture, not so sibling rivalry, some angst but majority is fluff. 

Author’s note: I manage to squeeze something for a part two of Tamaranean headcanon. The Sullys know a bit more about reader. Idk why I just like the scene where the Tulkun return into the village, so I wanted to add it to the headcanon. Sorry that it’s not much.

Masterlist

One day, you along with the Sully kids and the Metkayina kids have been haging out. “Y/n? what did your sister do to get to banish from your home?” Ao’nung had asked as Tsireya responded for you. “I don’t think that’s appropriate to ask” she said as you responded. “No, no, it’s fine, I think it’s best you all know” you said. Then again you spoke again once getting everyone’s attention. “When she was born, she had an illness, that illness prevented her from from flying or having the strength me and my people had. Then after a while, I was born, I was born just like the people in Tamaran.” You talked while they paid close attention. “She had become resentful towards me, because I had something she didn’t have, she began to hate me. I believed was because our parents didn’t see her fit to inherited the throne due to her illness.” You spoke sadly looking down at your hands.

“She would do things to me, she’d hurt me in many ways. Until our parents sent us to a school in another planet, so that they could train us into becoming warriors in Tamaran since our enemy had been trying to go to war with us. We are peaceful being but if we have to fight, then we fight. My sister had become the greatest in combat. During a test, she had been beating me to all the tasks. Until I had accidently knocked her off the field, which was floating in open space. I went to save her from her death, but after I did, she attacked me again, nearly killing me.” You now sounded sad.

“Our tutors have sent her back home, since they believed that she had no heart for attacking me the way she did after I saved her. But she did not go home, she went to our enemy, she told them about our secret defense system and other stuff. Then my sister had demanded my parents to hand me over, and If I ever return, then she’ll destroy Tamaran. So I went with her, I had become her slave, she did whatever she wanted to me, most of it was torture.” You said, this made your stomach turn a bit, still remembering the torture all those five years.  

“Then one day we both got kidnapped by another race, they had decided to experiment on us with solar energy. But I manage to get away due to the attack to an attack from their enemy, that’s how I got my powers. I had saved my sister again, but just like the last time she had tried to kill me again. Again I was sold as a slave but this time I manage to escape, and that’s how I ended up here.” You had been in tears, you felt Tuk hug you, feeling sad about the whole story. “Even after everything she had done, I still love her, I cannot come to hate her.” Ao’nung then spoke, surprised “forgive her? after everything she did? you saved her twice and she tried to kill you no one, but twice” he said but you just shrugged it off. “I know, but she is till my sister and I love her, I can’t really hate her honestly.” You admitted. 

Kiri had been the one who told Jake and Neytiri your whole story, they felt bad, seeing that you had lost everything but yet, you’re still standing and were forgiving. 

Jake and Neytiri had basically adopted you since the day you had arrived, their care for you grew stronger when you had helped them recue their children. They saw you as a good influence towards their children.

Neytiri saw that you were pure from the heart, even after everything you had gone through, you were still smiling. 

Ever since you had told your friends what had happened, Tuk had made it her mission to tell you and let you know how much she loves you. No matter what Tuk always told you that she loves you and that you’re a good sister. 

You and Tuk had become very close, she was like a little sister to you since the day you had arrived. Tuk was innocent and deserves nothing but happiness. You honestly saw Tuk as your little brother, the brother you may never see grow up.

But you believed Tuk had been put in your way, and you now had a younger sister to look after. You would give her the love you weren’t able to give your baby brother. 

You’d often be spotted with Tuk, playing, swimming or just hanging out together. Tuk was basically attached to your hip.

Also, you and Tsireya were practically besties, you both would be with Tuk or sometimes hanging out together, you had also considered her a sister too.

Sometimes you’d take her on your back and you’d fly around the village for fun or you’d be hanging out with her in her marui making bracelets or weaving each other clothes. 

Tsireya would be the one to do your hair, since you just let it be. She thought about braiding your mane like hers, when she did, you practically called each other twins.

Since you weren’t really the fighter type, you had decided to get into healing. You had asked Ronal if she could teach you, at first she wasn’t sure but she agreed.

Since you had been learning how to heal others who’d get injured, it made you feel good knowing you were helping others without having to fight, unless needed.

While you learned Ronal had been interested in about you. She’d ask you questions about your home and your family among other things. When she heard about how your sister betrayed you, she felt bad but also saw how forgiving you were. If she were in your case, she’d be enraged.

You honestly reminded Tonowari of his own daughter, you and Tsireya were both just the sweetest people to ever live. He thought it be good to keep you around since you were a good influence on both his kids like Rotxo.

That day you had been weaving Tuk a new top, until you heard the Horn go off, getting everyone’s attention. You stepped out along with to see the commotion, then you heard Tsireya saying that the Tulkun had returned. Looking at the ocean, you saw the Tulkun swimming towards the village, Tuk then went to get Kiri so that she could see too. You along with the Sullys had joined in. Rotxo was kind enough to introduce you all to his spirit bother. Then you all went for a swim with the Tulkun. Kiri and Tuk on the top fin, while you and Rotxo at the bottom fin.

Some had swam by in their ilus, you spotted Ao’nung waving at you all, so you waved back. As you all swam with the Tulkun, you saw other Tulkun of all ages, adults, teens and some calf swimming around the Metkayina. It honestly reminded you of home, you remember how some warriors would come back home and be greeted with their families. It was nice seeing everyone happy, specially reuniting with their brothers and sisters. You had met Tsireya’s spirit sister and you had also met Rao and her calf. You were in tears scene such a beautiful view, a mother with her child. That type of vision always warmed your heart. 

[trainwrecksys]

ok!!!!!!!! i am!!!!!!! going to just say it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! long long post ahead!!!!!!!!!

yes i look like an out of touch stan with a victim complex for one character when i draw no one but bentham in my fanart and completely ignore everyone else to feel sorry for him and yes i am aware and no i dont know if anyone else sees this in me or im just paranoid but bro i am annoyed with myself !!! i hate how stannish i am sometimes because yes bentham had every reason to be called evil but yeah i had a good few reasons to have a complete breakdown when i read that in the book !!!!!!!1 too much writing under the cut about a lot of stuff that is in my head and needs to get out for better or for worse idk

i have made a severe and continuous lapse in my judgement and i do not expect to be forgiven but genuinely the way me being a stupid shameless stan can come off to others even subconsciously is actually important because it makes me look like someone who would see a situation like the bentham siblings' in real life and side with the STRAIGHT WHITE MALE who has made more than mistakes and hurt people in moments of heightened emotion (end of library of souls)- but like not in defense of bentham for ONCE IN MY LIFE everyone feels emotions everyone gets hurt and he had a right to not be perfect after everything he went through but that doesnt mean hurting people is the course of action and bro i have completely ignored that and skirted around it for two years and IM NOT GONNA KEEP APOLOGISING FOR MAKING THIS TOO LONG BECAUSE IT BLEEDS INTO REAL LIFE AND I REALISE HOW MUCH OF A STUCK UP DICK I COULD BE NOT ONLY ABOUT THIS BUT IN GENERAL LIFE AFTER I READ THE BOOKS AND GAINED AN ATTACHMENT TO BENTHAM

the stuff im talking about is honestly mainly between me myself and i and most of the art i post is him either chilling or feeling a bit sad but the way i completely ignore miss peregrine's issues and betrayal to focus on how oh so hurt and betrayed myron was like there was no reason he was exiled

like yes years in a big mansion with three people to keep him company in the middle of devils acre with no way to resolve his trauma can do shit to someone but what about years feeling his sisters guilt, BASIL????? what about how she mustve felt after both her brothers DIED due to their own hubris???????????? what about how she felt she was a bad sister when she literally had to be like their mother with all the baggage she had then actually mother children while thinking her slightly better brother might have been getting better with him saying he was gonna give them info on caul only to see him SIDE WITH CAUL when he had just done something that COULD HAVE HELPED HIS CAUSE and then spitefully capture her and lead them into the mouth of hell OH MY GOD

and how jacob and emma had to deal with his bullshit being all "lets talk over tea!" and waiting for when it was right in the exposition to tell them who he fucking was, then telling them he BASICALLY KILLED JACOBS GRANDPA while giving excuses and them finding out later on that hE KEPT THE SUUL FOR HIMSELF?????? i made some bullshit reason up why he did that for my headcannons but lets be real the only reason they could have at least imagined was that he was planning on using it in the library. the information betrayed them either way and to alma again it was only a stab in the gut because he hurt a guy who was basically her son

overall hes not some aesthetic victimised pookie bear hes a more than flawed man who only did some things to mend his image and cant be excused for what he did and this whole post was basically me shouting at myself

[onlyacrazy-cat]

A head Canon about the red crown in colt, im making a fic about it! Hope you like it

-------

"What you achieved, was it a mystery and almost a miracle, something destined?..."

The lamb looked sadly at Shamura, it was always the same, something that no one could explain, the continuous reminder that it was an anomaly, that perhaps would never be repeated, made them feel even lonelier than they already felt.

“It's what you've heard for years…. “isnt it?” Shamura interrupted.

“What happened to you little lamb, it was a choice.”

A choice? That was the answer? That they betrayal had simply led to this? It definitely didn't make them feel better, but it also didn't explain the crown's unusual behavior.

The lamb spoke “Still doesn't explain why I'm the only one…”

“Not your choice, lamb, but your actions led to that.”

Shamura arranged they cards, and drew two, both hearts, which he placed on the table.

“The Crown is nothing more than an extension of us, a part of us, a reflection of our deepest desires”

Then they took one of the cards and turn in the opposite direction.

“What would happen if a part of us is away for so long, that it knows an endless number of different things, experiences feelings and desires that its counterpart does not know, would they still be part of the same being?…”

The lamb looked at the cards, the one that remained motionless was the sick heart card, and the one that turned around... the hearts i, which showed a heart divided into two colors.

“The crown choosed you, even over its former self, unlike my crown or my siblings crown, who died at our side.”

The lamb stares at the red crown, remembering the fervent battle against its former owner.

“If it is mine now, then why doesn't it listen to me? Why not…"

"It decided to stay with you, but the crown is still its own entity, it is not you, perhaps the reason why it still maintains its individuality is because the same desire that caused it to rest on your head remains fervent."

The lamb's gaze clouded, they mind was filled with negative thoughts. Did the crown choose him then just because he proved to be stronger than Narinder by destroying the former bishops? Was Narinder right? He was nothing more than a puppet for the crown? His thought was interrupted when Shsmura placed a hand on his shoulder.

“The crown was the part of narinder, the narinder who, if he had lived, seen and experienced what the crown did, would have done the same.”

"I don't understand…"

"Maybe what Narinder wanted most in his eternal Solitude was power, and in you the crown had found it... or maybe... something else, even deeper, that would explain the miracle in your hands."

The lamb still did not understand but the crown looked at him intently, it had that determined look, which gave them comfort and assured him that they could win any battle, the look it gave him when they was afraid, or when he felt alone and cried at night.

“In your hands, you hold the piece of narinder that chose you, even over himself.”

----

Hey there i hope you like it, in my head Cannon, narinder did had some feelings for the lambs since his solitude but he cared more abour vengance, yet the crown who was 24/7 with the lamb could jnot just ignore the feeling, the feeling growth, at the end the crown choosed to protect the lamb, no matter the price, and still, yeah, the crown choosed the lamb out of love and wanting to protect him, the feeling that made possible such a miracle, also being a choise by narinder (unconscious one tho) By granting them power so that them are not hurt, it means that their relationship is not one of power, of one over the other, but rather that they are on a similar level, because their power is born from the concern they have for each other.

Also, Shamura is now Clauneck's apprentice in my story, that's why they uses tarot cards!

[sparklepirate]

Alright, final thoughts on Brisingr.

You know what half the book was dwarven politics but I ate that shit up.

The more I read these again the more I appreciate the nuance of Eragon's character. It's super rare for me to like a main protagonist as much as I like him, but he has so many things going on. He's heroic, but in a deeply existentialist way, which leads him to be a bit cruel/callous towards his brother. He is smart and a quick learner, both academically and on his feet, but he does and thinks some of the stupidest things sometimes. He was forced to grow up so fast, so while he often comes across as mature and self-assured, internally he is still just a kid, or perhaps a very, very young man, and that kid part of him still shines through sometimes. He does and will do what he has to do to help the world, but he is constantly surprised to find new avenues of guilt when confronted with various consequences of his actions, but he still presses on. He is still learning his place in life not only as a dragon rider and a hero, but just as a person in general, and I think that's so cool and interesting to read! And he's also dealing with the trauma of the everything that's happening to him, but doesn't quite yet seem to realize that he isn't alone in his feelings. He is a dork, and I love him, and I want to be his friend, and I want him to accrue a whole squad of older sibling figures to help him through his stuff.

Along the lines of trauma, I hope he and Roran get to talk about this stuff. They both have moments of berating themselves over being weak for having strong feelings about killing and participating in a war, and I wish they would talk to each other and realize they were not alone. ... Murtagh too but that's just wishful thinking. I'll just have to write that myself I suppose.

Saphira is also so good queen of my heart and my soul she is beauty she is grace if she were a human she would rip apart a rat with her bare hands and teeth and do a kegstand immediately afterwards with the blood still dripping down her face but her makeup would be FLAWLESS while she did it ❤️

This felt like the first book that really drove the point home of how close the two of them are, because this is the first time they had to be truly separated from each other. Every time they reunited and they were just so filled with joy and love I just 🥺

As always- Murtagh deserves better!!! He and Thorn!!! He is in this position because he was too compassionate for Eragon (being led to the Varden), and then Thorn (swearing fealty to save him), and no one really cares about him but he still hopes and he still loves!!! Obviously, like, being on opposite sides of the conflict no one is going to not try to kill him, they kind of don't have a choice, but... Damn. I won't say too much more about him until after Inheritance but like. Damn. Justice for my husband.

On that note, the absolute betrayal he must have felt upon finding out that Oromis and Glaedr existed. Granted, by him becoming a dragon rider it was already too late for them to help him, but still. It's just kind of a tragic circumstance that everyone was so powerless in this situation, and like... Being literally possessed by Galbatorix for a bit there was. Hmm. Bad. I'm sure we'll be dissecting THAT in the new book.

It makes me wonder how much of this situation could have been prevented if the elves and the dwarves weren't so consistently self-serving. I think that's what makes Nasuada such an effective leader in comparison to them. She will get shit done, and she will set aside pride whenever she needs to to achieve the best results. Now, she has her flaws, which I know are explored more in Inheritance, but I can understand her constant frustration with the other kingdoms refusal to help or share important secrets that could have helped them sooner/prevented bloodshed.

And as far as secrets go... I don't know. It's hard to gauge "should have" or "shouldn't have" with most of the things Oromis and Glaedr neglected to tell Eragon and Saphira (or anyone), but the eldunarí feels like the most cut and dry. I guess they weren't anticipating Thron hatching but like. If that's the source of Galbatorix's power... It might have been useful for literally anyone to know about that before now. Arya didn't even know, for god's sake.

Speaking of Arya, I like her way way more this read through!!! And I do not ship her and Eragon literally at all sorry I'm a hater ❤️

RIP Oromis though sucks that you died.

Onto Inheritance!

[alteon77]

The Bizarre Breeding Habits of Anthropomorphic Personifications: Chapter 2

It's a tale as old as time.

Two idiots fall in love. Two idiots fall out of love.

Neither one of them is expecting a baby to come along and derail their unhappily ever after.

Chapter one here, AO3 here, Masterlist here

It's raining again in the Dreaming.  

Or, Morpheus supposes, it might be more accurate to say that it's raining still in the Dreaming as the rain has not let up for over a month.  

He stands on the balcony of his private chambers, their private chambers only scant weeks past, and watches the deluge as it wreaks havoc through the realm. It has been forty-eight days since they were contentedly in love, forty-eight days since he discovered her betrayal and cast her from his life and his realm. Not that he is counting the time since their disastrous separation, of course, even though he is aware of it.  

Painfully aware of it even.  

By mortal standards, their love had been a slow one to bloom. He'd first met her in 1832 when she'd invited herself into his kingdom, frustrated and full of ire, to inform him (less than diplomatically) that she would be venturing into the dreams of another. Beautiful though she was, he'd been half amused and half infuriated by her audacity as he'd questioned her regarding her intentions in doing such a thing. She had introduced herself as May before relaying to him that her brother had found himself enthralled by a succubus.  

And not for the first time at that.  

Troublesome siblings were something Morpheus had unfortunately related all too well to, with at least two of his six near constantly attempting to find ways they might embroil him in their spiteful games. So he had granted her request in an odd show of compassion and thought it generous of himself, only to have the fiery female tartly tell him that she had not sought his permission, that she was merely there as a courtesy. Fool that he was, he had felt his heart start to thud loudly at her boldness, at the determined way that she both thanked him and dismissed him in one fell swoop. The manner in which she spoke to him, fearless despite his terrible reputation, was a novelty, and he had thought then like a love-struck boy that he wished to see more of her. 

Despite this, he hadn't actually laid eyes on her again until 1946, and the circumstances then had been… less than ideal. He'd remembered who she was, though, on that first horrible night that Roderick Burgess' men had held tight to her arms outside the binding circle and tried to threaten her into assisting them. They'd marched her away when she told them no, and while their captors had been far too afraid to even consider getting near him, May… she had not been so lucky. She had been hurt. Badly. He had never witnessed it, had never seen them so much as strike her, but every time Roderick Burgess had his brutes roughly throw her to the ground before his glass prison, she was freshly bruised or bleeding, a testament to the suffering being inflicted on her. His heart had ached at the sight, his worry sickening as their captors had demanded that she communicate with Morpheus using her magic, that she force the Endless to reveal his secrets, that she cajole him into granting them gifts he could not give. 

As a maker, May had been more than capable of speaking into his mind, had even made a habit of doing so when she was lonely in that shared nightmare of theirs, but she had remained resolute in her continued refusals to Roderick Burgess when he commanded this of her, firmly telling him time and time again that it couldn't be done. No matter the consequences she'd endured for her obstinacy. 

Her strength had noticeably began to dwindle by the end of that first year of this treatment, new wounds staying for longer on her than they should because of it. And so when she'd seen the opportunity to facilitate their freedom, to take advantage of an argument between their jailers to scratch a thin line through the painted sigils trapping him, she hadn't hesitated for even a moment. She had saved him in this way, and he had felt compelled to save her in turn. He'd knelt at her side on the cold floor of that basement, looking her over as the blue glow of his power cast its hazy light over her injured form. Gently, he'd reached out and brushed the shattered glass from her unconscious, broken body before carefully gathering her up in his arms and taking her far from their captivity and everything they'd suffered there.  

It wouldn't be until they were free of that nightmare that Morpheus would understand why May's magic had been so dulled in that place, and the branding burned onto her arm, the one binding her magic, had been the very first thing he'd healed on either of them. Jaw clenching in fury as he'd worked, he had found himself wishing that Roderick Burgess had not died during their escape. For if that mortal had survived, then Morpheus would have assuredly taken great pleasure in tormenting and killing him anew for his cruelty towards her. 

Nonetheless, gradually over time May had recovered fully from her ordeal, and he had done the same. Both of them had found solace in one another and their shared experience as they mended, a friendship blooming between them from it. He had trusted her when she first started offering him her hesitant physical contact, had even found himself eventually coming to crave those shy touches of hers, and they had began to fall in love after that, bit by bit, as she had assisted him in rebuilding the desolated remains of his realm. From their many conversations, he'd quickly learned that beneath her seemingly spirited, sometimes waspish exterior, she was actually… quite kind, bright and good in a way that he had noticed influencing him long before either of them would dare to admit their feelings to one another. 

He had grown to love her completely over the decades after that, had grown to regard her without any suspicion. And because of it, he never could have foreseen her betrayal. He's known for most of his existence that love never ended well, especially for him, and so in hindsight he supposes that he should have guessed that their love could do naught but to crush him in the end. Instead he'd foolishly allowed himself to hope, to believe in better, to trust in her, and now he's been left with nothing but his heartbreak, clearly paying the price for that rather spectacular idiocy on his part.  

Heavy thunder rolls through the Dreaming, the force of it so great that the glass window before him trembles violently.  

Seeing her only days prior had somehow made his melancholy worse, but he had been unable to do anything then except rescue her from death. No matter the pain she had caused him, he knows that… that he still loves her, that perhaps he will always do so. Such is the nature of that cursed emotion. His love for her had gotten inside of his heart like delicate glass, had shattered during that final argument mere weeks before they were to wed, and he is all too aware that no matter how desperately he tries, he remains incapable of digging all the many shards of it from his aching chest.   

This lingering affliction was why he had been troubled by the state of her when last they'd spoken. She had appeared ill when he'd finally gotten her to the safety of the pier. Her skin had been sickly pale, her limbs shaking from exertion. There had been dark smudges beneath her eyes, a physical symptom of her exhaustion, of her fatigue that was so overwhelming he could almost feel it in his own being. It had taken every last shred of his self control not to check her over, not to ensure that she was uninjured then. He'd wanted to comfort her, to close the damnable distance between them and take her in his arms once again, the urge to do so nearly overcoming his fury at her.  

A clap of lightning splits the sky before him, the shade of its electrical arc a dangerous red. He thinks that he must calm himself, that he must rein in these destructive feelings, as a small knock sounds from the door of their- his, only his- chamber, startling him from his maudlin thoughts.  

"Enter," he answers, knowing as he does that Lucienne is the only of his subjects that would dare come to this sanctuary of his and risk his wrath. 

She does as he commands and makes her way into their- no, his- sitting room to stand there with her hands held behind her back, obviously waiting until she has permission before she begins her daily attempt at coaxing him from this place. He tells himself that this time he will be kinder while she does this, that this time he will not react to her honest concern with churlish anger. His librarian simply worries for him and is unable to understand that she need not do so. He is Dream of the Endless, eons old, powerful, and so he is assuredly not wallowing in his despair.  

No matter how many times Lucienne might accuse him of it. 

He huffs out a resigned sigh but stays facing the deluge outside, continuing to watch it as it falls. "Yes?" 

"Sir…" she begins reluctantly, and Morpheus has an almost immediate impulse to end the conversation at the falter in her voice. She obviously seeks to speak to him of something he will dislike hearing. "Sir, parts of the realm are… flooded. Two of the islands… are completely submerged." 

"And?" 

He can feel the frustrated heaviness of her glare on his back. "And perhaps you might see to it," she supplies with only the slightest speck of irritation in her words. 

His duties. Always his duties. Even a moment to process his grief is not allowed to him by his function. He finally turns to her, his face kept carefully blank to mask the roil of emotions within him as best he can. “Very well.” 

She’s relieved and wary all at the same time, but she modulates her tone as she asks, "My lord…. when might we expect the rain to…. settle?" 

His jaw clenches. The truth is he does not know when the storms will fade away. He does not wish to admit this to her, does not wish to admit this to anyone, but he thinks they might rage for a long while yet, powerless as he seems to be at quelling this particular manifestation of his misery. 

"I know… not, Lucienne," he confesses and feels a curious pang in his chest, right where his heart is, that reminds him a little of broken glass slicing into that infernal organ with every breath he takes.  

She frowns, her expression changing to one of pity. She understands what he cannot bring himself to say aloud then, and for that he is… grateful. "Of course, sir."

"I will… leave at once to see to the islands. Have you evacuated the subjects there?"

Before she can answer, there's a strange pull at his mind, something familiar and unfamiliar all at the same time.  

He thinks… that it is May. Again? She should not be here, should not be capable of entering this realm after he had reinforced the banishment following her last trespass, and yet her panic cuts through him, cuts through everything else in his thoughts.  

She is… frightened. She is dying.  

His whole body goes rigid. He tells himself that this time he will not care. This time, he will refuse to intervene.  

His resolve lasts less than a fraction of a second. He should not care, he knows. What is she now to him but a betrayer? But a deceiver? Regardless, he shifts to where she is, surprised to find her in the Dreamer's Sea again. She's drowning, he thinks, just as she had been when last he'd discovered her here. He doesn't hesitate to jump in after her, doesn't hesitate to grab her up and practically drag her to the pier, and later, perhaps, he will wonder over this. He's been far crueler to lovers in the past for far less egregious offenses, had even damned one of them to an eternity of Hell for simply refusing him, but with her he seems incapable of even leaving her to the consequence of her own folly. 

And it is her folly. He is unsure how it is she is entering the dreams of others, but he knows that it is her doing no matter her denials.  

Shivering, she collapses on the wooden planks of the sole structure here, coughing out water while she trembles. His heart lurches at the sight. He wants to go to her, wants to wrap her up in his warmth until she is not so chilled.  

This he will not do, however. He might be unable to allow her death, but this… this urge he can control, and so he steps back, his hands clenched at his sides to keep them from reaching out to her.  

"You must cease this," he growls, anger clear in his tone. The fact is that she indeed must stop this reckless insanity of hers. The Dreamer's Sea is a manifestation of his being, one created to contain mortal dreams and keep them from spilling over. He had designed it in a way that it would not allow anyone but him to break through its surface, making her attempts to travel it borderline suicidal.  

She doesn't stand, seemingly too weak to do so, though her ability to lash out at him in a temper remains unhindered by her near drowning. "What a great idea, Morpheus. I hadn't stopped to consider-" She stops herself with another coughing fit, this one severe enough that he would wince at the sound of it if he were not keeping his face held so tense. When next she speaks, her voice is a harsh rasp, but it does not dull the bite of her sarcasm. "I hadn't stopped to consider that I shouldn't go to sleep and find myself dying in that stupid water every night. Thanks so much for that well-thought out advice." 

He's enraged at the nerve of her for daring to take such a tone with him when she is the trespasser here. "How are you entering this realm?" His voice dips low in warning, in threat.  

"I don't know. I'm not doing anything. I even tried not opening the door tonight, but it flew open on its own and sucked me in anyway."

"Door? A door appeared to you?"

She lets loose another cough, this one wracking her frail body in a way that makes him tighten his fists at his side in a greater effort not to comfort her. "Yes," she finally answers. 

"Perhaps you would not find yourself pulled in by this door if you were not traipsing through the dreams of others," he bites out, his tone gravelly. 

"I'm not… not doing it on purpose." 

"There is no other way to do such a thing." 

Unexpectedly, she huffs out a bitter laugh. "Believe whatever you want. We both know that nothing I say is going to convince you of… well, anything." 

Indignation surges through him so quickly that he feels his eyes bleed black with his fury. As if she's expecting to have to defend herself physically, May gets sluggishly to her feet. "You would dare?" His voice is a mere rumble he says this, the rage of it dangerous to any other entity. Before him, however, his once love seems more tired than fearful, as if she's so very worn out that she's resigned herself to whatever vitriol he will level at her. 

"Look, I don't want to argue. Thanks for not… letting me die and all, but you can just send me home now." 

"What has happened to your magic that you cannot make the return with your own power?" 

Another acerbic laugh, this one fainter than the other, and Morpheus decides that he doesn't like to hear such a noise from her. She had always been so happy when she was in the Dreaming with him, always so full of creation and love. This jaded creature seems so different from his May that it almost disturbs him. Then again, he supposes that she is no longer his anything and as such he should not concern himself with this sorrowful change in her.  

"Is it really any of your business?" she questions as if she knows what he's thinking. Her eyes flick away from him seemingly to avoid his gaze, and he has the distinct impression that she is hiding something from him with this guilty gesture. 

His worry for her is a sudden, unexpected thing, and before he can stop himself, he asks, "Has something gone amiss in the Waking? Are you… safe?" Makers, he knows all too well, are hunted by many. Their realm torn apart by civil war for millennia, they've scattered across the universe even as their numbers dwindle more and more with every passing decade.  

She brings her arms up to cross over her chest as if she's embracing herself, as if she's trying to hold herself together with her own shaking limbs. "I'm fine."  

He frowns at her, instantly on alert. She doesn't sound fine by any possible meaning of the word. As if he cannot help himself, he steps closer to her. "What is the matter? You are… changed... somehow."

"I'm grieving. I know that's probably hard for someone like you to understand, but I'm… I'll be fine." 

He goes rigid at her words, at the accusation buried in them. As if he does not understand mourning. As if he is so unfeeling that he could not fathom being as torn by their relationship ending as she is. His worry dissipates in the iciness of his ire. How very foolish he is in her presence, so sentimental that he allows himself to forget her duplicity. He vows that he will never err in this way again. "Very well. I will send you home, but know that if you wander into this realm yet again, I will leave you wherever you land… even should it be these waters." 

She curls in on herself a little. "Okay. I… I am trying not to… Just never mind. You'll… do whatever you want, and you won't let me… let anything change that." 

His heart contracts almost painfully, his chest burning with the force of it. "I will do what I must." He does not give her a chance to answer as he pushes his power out and shifts her home. After she's gone, he stares at the place she had just been in, his fists loosening at last, his eyes prickling with the unshed tears that he refuses to let fall.  

By the time he gathers himself enough to return to the palace, a hurricane is ripping its way through the Dreaming, leaving a devastation in its wake that's almost as great as the devastation of his tumultuous emotions. 

May wakes the next morning with dried tears on her face, her stomach roiling sickeningly, and a rather alarming headache.  

She's very quickly learning that pregnancy isn't at all like the books and the movies make it seem. Oh, no. In reality, it isn't beautiful, isn't magical. No. Instead, it just really… well, sucks. 

After sitting up in bed and getting dizzy, she has to practically sprint to the bathroom to heave up the meager contents of her stomach. Honestly, she's starting to think she should just bring a blanket and a pillow in here and start sleeping camped out next to the toilet. It might do something for that about-to-faint feeling she gets when she has to stand upright to run in here. Contemplating over whether or not she can fit an inflatable air mattress in front of her bathtub, she brushes her teeth and downs two full glasses of water in an effort to rehydrate herself. With her powers disappearing more and more every day, she knows that she can't depend on her magic to keep her healthy like she always has.  

Only her contrary body, however, apparently doesn't want to do the hydrated thing since the water just makes her sick all over again. Dropping to her knees so fast that it sends shockwaves up through her actual fucking spine, May uncontrollably retches, and while she does, she finds herself regretting all the choices she's ever made in her life that have led her into this rather codependent relationship with a toilet.  

"You sick or something, sis?" It's her brother, leaning against the frame of the bathroom door, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes narrowed in concern.

There are a hundred scathing responses to that question on the tip of her tongue. Does he think she's just hanging out here on this cold tile floor because of the aesthetics or something? Her vision blurred by tears, May still manages to cast an annoyed look Viego's way. "What do you think?" 

Yeesh. Is that her voice? It sounds like two pieces of sandpaper rubbing together.  

Uncaring of her current grossness, Viego ignores her aggravation and steps forward to crouch at her side and put a comforting hand on her back. "How about something to drink? Maybe something with some electrolytes in it?" 

This is the dichotomy of her brother, the one that Morpheus never understood. On one hand, he can be a feral monster, one who's killed his way through the millennia in an effort to make them as safe as he could (to make others safe too sometimes even if he always refused to admit those particular murders to May). On the other hand, though, he loves her as much as he had when they were children still, when he'd whisked her away from their home realm to this one and promised in his little boy voice that he would protect her.  

And he had. He'd practically raised her, had been good at it even. While she doesn't remember very much of her time before Viego had brought them to this world, she remembers everything afterwards. The basic facts are that underneath that dangerous persona he shows to everyone else they meet, he's actually gentle, and for all the things he's ever done that others might condemn him for, May never stopped seeing him as that little boy who'd taken care of her, who'd given her as much of a childhood as he could, who'd always been there for her.  

That he'd killed their father was no matter to her. After all the horror that monster had put Viego through, May likes to think that she would have been the one to do it if she were strong enough at the time.  

Her thoughts blank for a moment, and she forgets what she had even been turning over in her head as Viego, still at her side, studies her worriedly. She knows the second he realizes what's going on with her because he freezes and then recoils a little. "Holy… shit. You're-"

"Don't say it," she pleads. Saying it out loud will make it seem more real somehow, and she can't… can't handle that right now, especially not with Morpheus' latest dismissal still fresh in her mind. 

To his credit, he clamps his mouth shut immediately. A couple of minutes pass before he even considers opening it again. "Not… happy news then?" 

"I don't… I don't know." 

He frowns at her. "Do you know who the father is?" 

May rolls her eyes. "Of course I know. Not all of us sleep with anything that has a pulse." 

"Please please tell me it's not that Endless bastard's. Please, sis." 

Without answering him, she shakily gets to her feet, and he doesn't press for an answer as he takes a hold of her arm and helps her up. "What are you even doing here? I thought you were going to be in Italy for another month with…. What's her name again?" 

He absolutely sees straight through her attempt to change the subject, and though May knows he's probably got a bajillion questions, he promptly shuts up about both her pregnancy and the Endless responsible for it. Viego has always been good at that, at letting her process things in her own time and come to him when she's finally sorted it and needs to talk. "Giselle," he supplies nonchalantly as he hands her a tube of toothpaste from her little cup beside the sink. "We had an argument, and then we tried to fuck it out instead of fighting it out, which led to a bigger argument and more fucking, and then a massive argument and… well, you know how it goes." 

She doesn't really know how that goes actually. As May scrubs her teeth with all the ferocity of someone who's just had a dog give birth to puppies in their mouth, she thinks over this. Despite that her and Morpheus were together for several decades, they'd never had hateful sex. He'd always seemed as if he was holding back with her, like she was something delicate that he had been afraid to hurt. Which is kind of hilarious now considering how thoroughly he'd ended up crushing her. When she's finished scrubbing her tongue, she spits into the sink and says, "I mean, you and Giselle lasted longer than I thought you would." 

Viego makes a face at her. "It was only two months."

"Yeah. I know. I stand by what I said. I thought three weeks. Max." 

His grin is contagious, the brightness of it making her smile too. Just a little smile, because her head is throbbing like she's got the worst hangover of her life, but a smile nonetheless.  

"Oooooh. Someone's cranky. Maybe we need some coffee?" 

Aaaand the smile is gone. If it's possible, her reflection goes even paler in the mirror. With how sickly white she's been lately, she's kind of morbidly impressed by how much color she sees draining from her face at the mention of the dreaded C word. She's pretty sure that she's mourned the loss of coffee more than the loss of her magic, which is really really saying something. Her stomach, fickle hell beast that it's been lately, had noped out of allowing her to have any once it discovered the joys of tormenting her with morning sickness. 

"Fries," she blurts out, surprised at how firm she sounds in this very stupid request of hers. 

His eyebrows raise. "Um, sis, it's eight in the morning." 

"Hash browns then. I just want fried potatoes of some kind." 

Viego looks totally iffy on the idea of her eating fried anything right now, but May doesn't care. "That's probably a bad idea. You know that, right?" he tells her like the boring big brother he can sometimes be. "If you're… sick, then something a little… less greasy might be better on your stomach." 

Is she going to be a brat over this? Why, yes. Yes, she is. This is the first food she's wanted anywhere near her mouth in two weeks, and she's suddenly ridiculously hungry. "Let me try that again. Viego, I'm getting dressed and going out for hash browns. You can join me or stay here and finish your lecture. The bathtub might stick around and listen to you but only because it doesn't have legs to run away." 

"Sheesh. You are cranky." He sighs in resignation. "Alright, stupid hangover food it is. Get dressed and grab a coat. It's cold out there." 

Of course, because her stomach is evil incarnate, May ends up getting sick again. Viego offers to go and get the food for her and bring it back home. He offers to do this for her like he's being sweet or something, but May knows better.  

He just doesn't want her riding in his car if she might puke in it.  

Not that she's bothered. It's totally fine with her as long as she gets what she wants to eat soon. While he's gone, May showers and brushes her teeth again, wondering at what point she needs to start worrying that she's accidentally scrubbing the enamel right off of them. She pulls on her comfiest clothes, a baggy pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt she had stolen from Viego that reads: Ass, Grass, or Cash. No one gets this hot mess for free. 

After that, she plops miserably down on the couch and pulls seven or eight blankets over her, one at a time. For the past week, she's been so frickin' cold that it's like the baby is sucking up all her warmth for itself. She shivers all the time now, even when she's wearing three layers and covered in a mountain of blankets, and like everything else to do with this pregnancy so far, she's finding it… kind of terrible. 

When Viego returns a half an hour later, the first installment of Kill Bill is playing in the background, the violence on the television screen strangely soothing to her. Probably because of her foul mood. Her brother sits beside her and makes to grab the top blanket of her little pile, but May holds tight to it. "It's mine. Get your own." 

"Pretty sure you've got them all, May." He laughs teasingly, and May would smack him if she wasn't so reluctant to stick her hand out from under the blessed heat that can only come from several layers of thick, plush fleece. 

Like she's a dog, and he's trying to lure her out of a corner with treats, he waves the bag in his hand at her, and the smell is… heavenly. A greasy stain spreads out from the bottom of the brown paper, and her mouth waters in anticipation.  

"I found you fries," he announces, and she detects the smallest hint of pride in his voice. 

"You're my favorite brother," she replies, snatching it from his hands like the feral animal she apparently is before roughly pulling it open. 

He chuckles at her. "Yeah. That's nice. I'm your only brother." He puts his arm around her and tries to pull her to him. "Come here, you idiot." 

"What are you-" 

"You look like you need a hug." 

May bristles at the pity she can see in his face. It does nothing good for her raging irritability today. "I'm fine," she informs him tartly as she takes a bite of the greasy carbs before her like they might make her feel better.

"May, I've seen corpses that have more life in them than you do right now." He should be expecting retaliation, really, but he seems caught completely off guard when he yanks his arm back from her sharp-nailed pinch. "Ow, that hurt."

Mouth full of half-chewed food, she mumbles, "Good. I meant for it to." 

"And after I slept with Ernie down at the diner to get him to make you fries." 

Thinking of the very happily married, very hairy Ernie in a passionate embrace with her brother makes her choke as she attempts to swallow. "Wait. What?" 

"Very sweet guy. Likes to snuggle after." He smirks playfully at her. "I'm kidding. I told him you were sick, and he did me a favor." 

May eyes him suspiciously. "A favor." It had seemed like he was gone for way longer than he needed to be. "Are you… sure?" 

"Yes…. I didn't actually fuck Ernie. Now eat." 

Mindlessly, she sticks another fry in her mouth and chews. This time, when Viego puts an arm around her and tugs her closer, she gives in and leans towards him, comfortable with his embrace in the way that millennia together have made them. She knows that Viego, despite his ruthlessness, can be just as cuddly as she is sometimes. Like a giant, albeit homicidal, teddy bear. 

He doesn't speak as they watch the movie together, as she finishes off the entire bag of fries, and when the credits roll, May hugs his torso and clings to him like she used to do as a child. Viego is safe, she reminds herself. He has always been safe. She can talk to him about anything, even when talking seems hard.  

"It's Dream's," she confesses quietly, hating the brokenness in her voice. "The… the baby." 

He lets out a little hum, the sound low enough that she can feel it vibrate in his chest. "I know, sis." 

"And he… he banished me. He doesn't want to have anything to do with me." Her eyes well with tears that spill over, but she doesn't wipe them away, feeling too tired to even lift her hands right now.  

"He didn't… banish you because you were pregnant, did he?" 

"No. I… I haven't told him." 

His hold on her tightens. "I don't want to tell you what to do," he starts with, like he always does right before he proceeds to do exactly that. "But you need to come clean to him, May. He'll find out eventually anyway. Big secrets like this never stay buried like you want them to." 

May doesn't answer. She thinks, though, that she certainly doesn't have to tell Morpheus a damn thing, that he had said all that was needed between them both when he'd tossed her out of the realm and then threatened to let her drown if she showed back up again. As far as she's concerned, she'll manage this all on her own, and Dream of the Endless can just stay in the dark concerning this child's existence.

She ends up very being wrong, of course, and Viego ends up being unfortunately very right. Big secrets don't stay buried. She'd just thought that when it was all said and done, she would have longer than four short days before Morpheus found her out.

Next chapter here

[mrfandomwars]

Hear me out, instead of making the New Mandalorians villains just as bad as the Death Watch and that the True Mandalorians are the 'good guys' whenever people want to mix canon with legends...

... make them good friends with the True Mandalorians.

Adonai and Jaster having been Good Friends maybe more with Adonai, both former traditionalists who maybe wanted to change Mandalore for the better (even if Jaster Insists he just wanted to reform the Bounty Hunter aspect of the Mandalorians at first) that were maybe introduced via Jango's Father

(more under the cut)

You want Jaster to be the Mand'alor but Adonai has been stated to have been it? "It's your turn to deal House X, so congrats on your coronation" or even Jaster who Refused to take the crown for whatever reason - maybe Adonai had already been Mand'alor for a while and thus he felt like it was stealing the title from someone who was Trying to change, so even though Adonai was 'officially' the Mand'alor, Everyone knew Jaster was the true one

War against the Death Watch or Traditionalists? War against the Traditionalists, but the group closer to Tor was called 'Death Watch' (and years later, Satine assumed that the terrorists group had named themselves after that group and weren't the remains/the group reborn when their attacks were nothing more than vandalism and propaganda up until the clone wars - as it is )

Talking about Jango and Satine - consider them not Hating Each Other but having been Friends that were slowly changing because of the horrors they faced in the war, especially if they were Both target and had to go on the run

You want to go with a more reasonable/fanon like Jango but still keep aspects of how he was in the legends? Make Jango having been the reasonable one who, although knew sometimes he would have to get dirty, still wanted to at least try to talk to the traditionalists and convince them to switch sides at very least because there already has been too much death while Satine is the one who wants to get Done with the traditionalist who keep destroying their planet and killing their people, who wanted to KILL TOR after he killed her Buir (and thus have it be a problem in the year on the run, because she keeps trying to go to where the Death Watch are and putting )

and then you can have them both Change with the horrors of the war:

Satine (who maybe made it her mission to bring back plant life in an almost destroyed Kalevala, if you mesh Canon and Legends together) becoming more and more horrified with the violence in the war to the point where she is too traumatized to take lives, even if to defend herself and too tired to want to continue with war in the end after so much losses (her father, Jaster, the betrayal of Montross, the death of her other sibling) (just like it was implied in TCW) that she just wants to get done with and rebuilt, even if it means having to be nice to the traditionalists who did so much damage and letting them have the least affected planet/moon of all mandalorian system and be independent and let some criminals get away with things because if they tried to judge them it would just kick start the war again of at least cause more death because they Wouldn't go down nicely

Jango slowly losing his hope of a peaceful resolution and having to accept that the violence is necessary to to protect the people he loves, that he has to make sure that they are taken out and stay down, that they Don't get back up. Jango who is Angry that they are going to let the traditionalists go and get all the nice things while they get with the destroyed planets (feel free to make maybe Concord Dawn's broken planet situation have become Worse because of the war, bc if in TCW it was bad enough to turn Mandalore into a toxic waste planet then that can happen) and they get away with shit while the non-traditionalists are left to deal with the destroyed cities, the sick, the injured, the lost and the dead, all the while have Very Few resources

Or even if you don't want to go this route, it's fine!!! Just consider it!!! Them being friends instead of enemies!!!!

Oh, want to know about how Jaster died? Maybe Adonai died first and Jaster was left as the Mand'alor (either to take the title or as the solo one) and stayed behind with Qui-Gon (who... probably stayed with Obi-Wan and Satine in canon but I See Y'all Fanfictions so maybe he stayed behind to help throw off the location of the heirs and Mand'alor) and Jango ends up blaming Qui-Gon/the Jedi for Jaster's death because Montross was Also by Jaster side and Yet Montross passed unoticed, even if he interacted with Qui-Gon at least once a day

Want to drag more of Jango's story in Legends? Easy, after the war, as he couldn't support what Satine was doing i.e. letting the traditionalists go unpunished or at least not taking More from them, he left and maybe he wasn't the only one.

Maybe he had a group with him and after a while the accident of the comics happened, except this time it hurt More because he already knew Jedi and this was Another betrayal and maybe the events happened differently (maybe instead of being the Mandos shooting first, it was one of the hidden Death Watch member's shooting it or maybe it was Tor Vizsla (who maybe was the only one of the original leaders of the war to survive, so an Extra blow to Jango and Satine, who lost their parents to him) leaving someone cut in half with the Darksaber and thus making it seem like it was the Jedi who started it first) but still ends up with the same ending:

Jango and Silas being the only survivors, with Jango being sold to slavery, escaping and then killing Tor (...the DW probably lied and said he died in his sleep peacefully)

Oh, but then why did Obi-Wan and Jango not know each other? Jango is a common name, he changed his armour paint and during the war he went by Jango Mereel, so "Jango Fett" while raising an eyebrow not enough to make it clear that Jango was the Jango that Obi-Wan knew.

Also Obi-Wan would be Petty enough over Everything (including the clones thing) to refuse to acknowledge Jango as Jango Mereel until Jango admitted it too, and Jango is Stubborn enough to not give up

Or even Jango and Satine went different ways to make tracking them harder so while Obi-Wan and Jango heard about each other they never really met in person

...Don't want to go this far in planning? Then consider Jango's story happened a bit earlier, Adonai was one of the few True Mandalorians left alive and one of the highest ranking Mandos left so he had to take over when the Death Watch wasn't giving up thus dragging the war until they were *forced* to stop.