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sunnybunnyy2 · 1 year ago

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Two Wrongs Don’t Make A Right

Daryl Dixon x platonic!reader

Negan Smith x daughter!reader

WORD COUNT: 4.0k

TIME: season 7

Warnings: imprisonment, talk of rapists(briefly), talk of murder, mentions of Abe’s and Glenn’s deaths, arguments, mentions of saviours, mentions of what transpired in season six and seven, spoiler warning and bad writing.

CHAPTER 2 of the Dark Cell series

Series Masterlist Official Masterlist

This is long awaited! I'm sorry that this has taken so long but I have been making fanfics on Wattpad recently and if you are a fellow fanfic writer you understand how much unnecessary time it takes to come up with ideas and lines to make your character come to life. Thank you all for being so patient with me! Also, requests are open, and I will be redoing my master list, so look out for that. I have been influenced so yes, this is going to become a series so stay tuned! Now that I finished this part I have more motivation to actually write for this! I’d you want to be tagged in the series let me know! Thank you so much for reading<3

(if there is third person slip ups I’m sorry, I’m just so used to writing in third person :( )

The exchanges took place every night at around 1 a.m., and it had for the past seven days.

You would arrive carrying a plate or bowl of whatever leftover food you had managed to swipe from the kitchen or some dinner from the meals you would share with Negan.

You had aimed to make the food before you went down so that it was still hot but it was risky as, there was a large chance that one of Negan's men would notice and alert your father, which would raise suspicion.

The food consisted of Sandwiches, chicken, pasta, fish, soup and wraps.

You wished you could do it more often, but you knew that it would largely increase the chances of you getting caught.

You knew your punishment wouldn't be anywhere near how severe Daryl's would be. You also knew that as much as you pleaded your father would allow his pawns to have their fun in harming the long-haired man. You weren't quite sure why your father's men were so willing to starve and beat a man senseless to appear strong. Men and their egos you supposed.

Your father could preach all he wanted about how he would do anything for his daughter, how he would move mountains to appease you. How he would kill anyone who dared to disrespect you (he had) but yet he couldn't try and be a better man. He couldn't put his rage and grieve the wicked world had caused him and help people instead of torturing broken people and turning people who wanted to survive into heartless killers. Turn them into him.

You couldn't say you hated your father. You never could. But that certainly didn't mean you agreed with half the things he did.

You could tell he cared what you thought of him. You were the last thing he had of your mother, but that didn't mean he listened to you when you expressed your opinion.

You and your father were close before all of this happened, well before you found out about his affair. After that day you hated everything about him. Even when your mother got sick and he stood by her, did everything for her. You weren't sure if it was because of how guilty he felt for betraying her or because he loved her.

Normally you would insist on it being the first but now she was at a loss.

Since your mother's demise, your once childish but thoughtful father had turned into a power-hungry greedy man. At first you gave him the benefit of the doubt. He was grieving and was trying to find a way to cope with the loss of the woman he loved but it was as though he was forgetting that his daughter had lost her mother.

He wanted to make you happy, so he gifted you the biggest room in the sanctuary and allowed you to purchase whatever you desired without working, though you often helped with the growing crops in the back of the sanctuary. Your father never really liked the idea of her around the fence but he backed down after a heated argument between you. He did send some of his men to keep an eye on you, he tried to be discreet but his men were less than.

You always made sure to bring a large glass of tap water from your room down to his cell, wanting to at least make sure he didn't die of dehydration.

You knew that his physical health wasn't as bad as it was before but you knew that his mental health was still declining. He had been locked in the tiny cell for weeks on end, the only sound filling his ears was the constant lyrics of the song 'East Street'.

The bags under his eyes were proof enough of the lack of sleep he had been receiving. The way his eyes could barely focus on one thing when you would bring him his meals was another important factor in your conclusion.

Since your visits had become more frequent he had uttered his name quietly into the comfortable silence that had filled the cell as he hastily inhaled what was in front of him. It was so quiet that you had barely heard him, but once you realized that it wasn't your imagination you smiled softly to yourself before muttering your name as well.

In your mind, you were friends. You knew his name, he knew yours, you would bring him food, he would be thankful and you were both the highlight of each other's day.

Daryl- because he wasn't rapidly dropping weight as he had been before from his lack of food, which in turn kept his brain running so he could coax his thoughts into coming up with a plan to escape his captivity. Plus your company wasn't so bad he reckoned.

You- because you got to meet another survivor from a rivalling group, you had heard your father angrily ranting to his soldiers about how this mysterious group had taken out one of his many posts and killed everyone in it.

You were shocked at how brutal this group could be but you knew that your father could be even more heartless and it was proven when a week later whispers were passed along through the sanctuary that your father had partaken in another one of his lineups and had bashed in two members of Daryl's groups heads in with Lucille.

You knew that Daryl's group had killed countless people, saviours but at least their families and friends didn't have to see it, as apparently the people from the outpost were killed while they slept. It was a very cowardly way to kill but it was better in a way, they didn't see it coming.

You clutched the tray of food which consisted of a slice of ham from a pig the saviours had recently slaughtered as a way to celebrate the new community they had under their control, standing with the other few that they had taken over. With a side of carrots that you had picked herself to give him some energy.

Then finally a generous helping of mashed potatoes to fill him up, as you knew that a small sandwich was going to get him through the day. Well, you guessed it was two, as Dwight had made sure to feed him a dog food sandwich every other day to keep him going. A dark pork gravy from the brand Bisto (clubhouse is better but whatever) that was covering a large portion of the potatoes. Your father did always say that you made it taste even better when you made it.

Your eyes peeked around the sharp corner to make sure Arat was on her way to her break that she always made sure to hide, always quick on her feet to head to her room to get several strong minutes of shut-eye.

Your eyes caught sight of Arat quietly creeping her way further and further away from Daryl's new home. You waited a couple of minutes until you were sure she was in her room, possibly already captivated by sleep. You placed one foot in front of the other as you too, crept down the hallway, the fear of getting caught burning fear into her veins.

You balanced the tray on one hand as you reached into your left pocket, to pull out the cell key that you had stolen from Laura, well it wasn't quite stealing, she had dropped it and hadn't even noticed. You could still remember her confused face when she caught you on the ground after catching you mid-grab. You smiled at her and played it off as if you were tying your shoe, which she bought as she shot you a smile and continued on with her ranting.

You turned the key clockwise into the rusting metal, smiling in satisfaction when the lock clicked quietly as a sign that it was now unlocked.

The creak that was loudly pulled from the door as it was opened left you cringing as you quickly shuffled into the room, closing the door until there was only a fragment of it for a little bit of light but it wasn't large enough to draw suspicion towards your meetings.

You could already see Daryl gazing up at you as you pulled the door closed, before lowering yourself to the floor, holding your hands out as a sign for him to take the plate which he did. He had loosened up a large amount since you had started being him food a week ago.

He was still stand-offish and didn't like to talk about his group which you didn't blame him for, you were with the enemy, you were his daughter. You weren't sure if he knew of your status at the sanctuary but if he did, it didn't come from you. It had already taken a great amount of effort to gain his trust and you wouldn't want it broken just because of who your father was.

If he brought it up, you would talk to him about it, but for now, you didn't want to risk losing one of the only people that didn't just suck up to you because they wanted more points or because they were scared to face your father's wrath if they hurt your feelings.

"Hey, sorry I was late, Arat took longer than usual to hit the deck." You quickly explained as expected the food in a curious glint in his eyes. "It's ham. Sorry, I didn't know if you liked it but they just killed a pig and me and my-... I had some for dinner earlier, it was good... and there's potatoes obviously, there's some cheese in them too with carrots and gravy." His eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you in question just as he had been since you had almost slipped up. "Don't worry, it's not poisoned well... at least I hope it isn't because I ate the same thing but I guess we'll find out."

He let a harsh breath out of his nose that sounded similar to a laugh before he picked up the metal fork before shoving a large bite of potatoes in his mouth, a barely audible groan fell from his lips as he continued to inhale the food, not even bothering to use the knife that you had brought to cut the meat, opting to just pick it up with his hands.

If it was anyone else you would find the wild eating disgusting, but you understood. He was being starved as a torture method to force him into submission. You had seen this countless times, but nearly all had caved within the first few days. It was shocking to you how strong he was. If it had been you... you weren't sure how long you could last if you were in the same position.

From how wild he was eating you could only assume today wasn't the day he got fed from Dwight.

You assumed you did well with the amount of food you had given him.

You kept your eyes trained on the opened part of the door to make sure the coast was clear still. Normally this side of the sanctuary was almost always deserted, but since Daryl as been held here, you had noticed a lot of working people wanted to catch a glimpse of one of the Alexandrians who had killed numerous soldiers. You weren't sure if was from fear or awe.

"Why are you doing this." He asked as he looked up from his half-eaten plate of food, to examine you while you spoke as if to see if you would lie to him.

"I don't like how he's handing this. I mean... what your group did was wrong. Really wrong. But what he's doing to you isn't right. No one should have to deal with this. I mean other than rapists, pedophiles, or child killers. I mean murder is really bad but there are some ways to excuse it, like self-defence but I mean the worlds over. People kill each other every day to survive. Don't make it right but it makes sense. You did what you thought you had to, to 'save' your group." You ranted slightly as you looked down.

"So you're doing this because I deserve better?" Daryl asked with a quiet snort as though he couldn't fathom the thought of someone actually thinking he was a decent guy.

"Everyone deserves better in some way. But no, some people just need a little help sometimes. You do, so I'm trying to help you." You said as watched him proceed with eating.

He looked up at you after he took yet another bite of his food. "I ain't need no help." He dismissed with a huff as he finished the last of his food.

"Obviously you do. Everybody does. You're no exception." You disagreed as he watched for any signs of Arat possibly returning earlier than usual.

"So why ya helping me? I'm sure the big man has more bitchs." He all but growled as he thought about your father causing your face to drop slightly as he kept your eyes away from him, in hopes of him not being able to see your full life story from just the shine in your eyes. Daryl looked like the type to be able to, you thought.

"He has some other... people in cells-" You were cut off by Daryl as he let out a dangerous scoff that should have had you scared. You were in a closed space with someone who wanted your father dead, I mean sure he didn't know that you and the man he hated most shared the same blood but it didn't matter. You were a Smith and that would never change. No matter how much you hoped and prayed that your father would suddenly turn a new leaf, it never seemed to happen. So at some point, you just saved your previously wasted breath.

"Ya mean prisoners?" He spoke sharply, his words not a question but a statement, showcasing how enraged he truly was with her father.

"Yeah...prisoners. There is some down here, yes. But they deserve it." You said while shaking your head as you thought about the awful people that were locked down here.

"Ain't nobody deserve this shit." He said with his whole chest as his eyes scanned your face with a mixture of hate and disgust at your words. You couldn't blame him though, he was locked in a cell and you had just said that the people locked in them deserved it.

"They're awful people. Rapists, child killers, people who kill without reason-"

"I ain't no rapist and I ain't no child killers. Me and my people had every righ-"

"Nobody has a right to take someone's life. Who made us god? When did we get to choose who got to live and who got to die?" You argued as you furrowed your brows at the man's words.

"How bout' ya tell yer buddy that? He killed my friends." He raised his voice louder than necessary which earned him a dirty look from you as you peeked out of the sliver of the door that shined light into the cell and once you were sure no one was coming with guns raised you turned back to face him.

"You killed dozens of his men while they were sleeping. You do realize that, right? I'm not saying what he did was right either, but you're lucky he didn't kill more of your people." You ranted slightly as you looked at him in confusion, he was so stuck in his own misery that he wasn't thinking about how other people were affected by his and his group's actions.

"Lucky? He bashed my friend's heads in." He said angrily but it was quiet. As if trying to scare you into submission but you didn't back down.

"And I'm sorry for your friends. I really am. But you couldn't have thought that your group could get away with slaughtering- and it was a slaughtering, his men and get away scot-free. You killed his soldiers. He takes that shit as a personal attack. So when I say I'm surprised he didn't kill more of you I mean it."

"One of my friends' wives was pregnant' ya think she deserved ta see that? Now tha' kid's gonna grow up without a father."

"Of course not. That's awful and I'm so sorry...but some of the men and women you slaughtered had kids. Wives. Parents. They had people who loved them too. One of the men, Mike, had a pregnant wife at one of the other outposts. She was eight months and gave birth to her baby girl two days after he died. Alone. And a woman, Mel, just got married to the man she loved, they were trying for a baby... He killed himself last week. Hung himself in his room all alone." You paused for a moment to see if he was going to speak up but when he didn't, you continued.

"An-and a woman named Willow had a baby at another outpost. Now that baby has to grow up without a mother. Another man named Carlos was an only child and had to work for points to provide for his parents. They're old and can't do it themselves. Now they're barely eating and are so depressed that their health is deteriorating, we're not sure how long they have left. So I'm sorry that your friends lost people they cared about but you didn't just get your group hurt with your guy's actions. You guys ruined so many lives that night."

You finished your rant as you shook your head, looking up at him only to see him looking down at his hands, his overgrown hair hung low to cover his eyes, masking his true reaction.

"I'm not trying to say that your friends' deaths don't matter but you can't just go around acting like you didn't kill people either. Like everyone else's pain doesn't matter to not feel guilty. But it does." You said quietly before deciding you had spent long enough in the stuffy cell. You reached over, grabbing the plate from in front of him before pulling yourself to your feet. You waited for him to speak again but he didn't bother and once you turned around he noticed that he hadn't moved from his place.

"Good night." You shook your head before he pulled the creaky door open a little more so the gap was large enough to fit your body through, closing it until you felt the metal clank quietly against metal.

You pulled out the key and shoved it into the lock, twisting it quickly before you heard quiet footsteps walking down the hallway from where Arat had left from. It seemed like you had left at the perfect time, you supposed.

You quietly but hastily quickened your pace until you were at the same corner you had looked over from around fifteen minutes prior.

You watched as Arat ran a hand over her short black and bleached blonde hair as she let out a yawn, swaying on her feet slightly from the over-tiredness she was experiencing, which was probably in full swing by the shortness of her sleep.

You let out a quiet sigh of relief before you quietly made your way in the direction of her room, the plate held tightly in your grasp as you walked past the mostly deserted sanctuary, sending a small smile to some of the saviours on watch duty. Most sent one back your way, while others seemed annoyed at the fact that they had duty at all, leaving them too aggravated to bother.

You were about to turn the handle of your door when you heard a voice stop you.

"Baby? What are you doin' up? It's late." Your father's voice stopped you in your tracks. A part of you wanted to run into your room and pretend that you had been sleepwalking but you knew your father knew you better than that and could almost always tell when you were fake sleeping. It was an odd talent if you were to be frank. So you turned around with a smile and spoke.

"I couldn't sleep. Decided to take a walk." You lied.

"With an empty plate of food?" He asked with raised eyebrows a sarcastic smirk on his face.

"...I got hungry on the way. Just heated up some leftovers from dinner. Didn't know that was a crime, Dad." You huffed in an attempt to sound believable.

"It's late. You could have woken me up. I would have walked with you." He said as he studied you.

"Seriously, dad? Literal armed guards are crawling the place. I think I'm okay walking to the kitchen. Plus you barely sleep as it is." You rolled your eyes at his mindset.

"I always have time for you, hunny... so who's the boy? Or girl. I don't discriminate. Hell, ya could be in love with a goddamn pumpkin and I would still approve. Maybe a little weirded out but hey, we all have our kinks." He smirked but his nose scrunched up slightly as he realized he was talking to his daughter and not one of his henchmen.

"Oh, wow, you figured it out. His name is Donteatmyseedsplease. I didn't want to keep it from you but I don't think you would approve. I'm so very glad I have your support, father dearest." You said in an overly happy voice even your eyes rolled with almost every word you spoke. You turned back to your door and turned ten knob, not going in as though to not give your father the opportunity to join you.

"You'll have to bring him over for dinner sometime we'll have squash."

"That wasn't funny Dad."

"Damn, you know how to wound a man's ego. Good girl, I taught you well." He said in a proud tone.

"I'm exhausted. Can we talk tomorrow? I wanted to talk to you about something actually..." You spoke as you pushed your door open even wider than it had been and started to make her way into your large room.

"That's never good." He groaned before he leaned over to land a kiss atop your head. "I'll see you tomorrow, baby. I'm busy but I always have time for you." He pulled away and sent a smile your way which you returned before closing the door and leaning against it. A sigh of relief left your lips as you realized you were in the clear.

TAG LIST: @cult-of-norman @book-place @ilovespiderpeople @kazunish @mysouleaten

(let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list for the future chapters!)

#the walking dead x reader #the walking dead #daryl dixon x platonic!reader #negan smith x daughter!reader #The walking dead x platonic!reader #The walking dead xteen!reader #daryl dixon x reader #Dark cell series

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the-words-we-sung · 5 months ago

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Thoughts and pictures - S3E4

I've never been that slow with a Young Royals rewatch >< It's hard for me to get through this season (especially now that I'm in the last 3 episodes...)

And here we go, starting directly with a very sad Simon 😞 Omar plays a crying Simon way too well, it breaks my heart every damn time...

I like hearing Wilhelm call Simon his boyfriend 🥰 Also is it me, or do we have a lot more close up shots in season 3? (No clue if that's what it's called, I mean shots that are very zoomed in on their faces like this one.)

Vincent drawing a dick on the ground, of course... And I don't get his explanation: "why even try if there's no reward for the effort?". It means if the school closes, they all won't graduate and have to do their grade all over again? Surely if they're taking tests and all, it counts for something? Why fail an important test and take the risk to fail your year? 🤔 (Not gonna lie, most of Vincent's reactions to what's happening to the school this season left me quite perplexed ^^') And if it's just the graduation ceremony that is cancelled, it still doesn't mean they're not graduating, does it? 🤔

But can you really Simon?

And Wilhelm repeating his mother's words "it's a privilege, not a punishment" breaks my heart >< (Also I'm gonna be a little shit about it but even the Royals have a choice in the end about accepting or not their role and job: after all, Wille is gonna renounce it in 2 episodes :p)

I do like what he said about the role of the royal family in Sweden! We have very little information on that in the show so I appreciate it here. And he looks so pretty in this light!

Wilhelm sounded so surprised that Farima said yes immediately when he told her they needed to help Simon. He was expecting to have to fight them on that.

Why did he have to delete his whole account? Why not just put it on private? (I know I've read in several fanfics the idea that searching and deleting through all the new people who followed him before going on private would be too much of a hassle but I feel like it's a stretch, and an acceptable price to pay to keep his account?)

Their conversation about Wilhelm's choice of foundation makes me so so sad! I had hoped that he would see Simon's point of view on how he can use his role as Crown Prince to try and make things better! I was actually pretty surprised that he was 100% not interested. It's a new facet of Wilhelm's personality that we hadn't really seen before I guess? And it feels like it creates a serious gap between them, it shows that they're not on the same page at all about a pretty serious subject (which is not good for the future of their relationship...)

This shot of these 3 made me laugh :p

This one hurts... Another crack in their relationship 😩 Simon is realizing how different they are. He knew they were but this season is showing us a side of Wilhelm that just seems incompatible with Simon :/ It's not just differences in tastes or personality, now it's differences in their core values also. And that is a huge problem.

So we learn that Simon mostly avoided Micke for Sara's sake. Or maybe he's exaggerating that fact because he's really angry at her.

The sit-in scene is very funny, they're all so dramatic, thinking they might starve to death xD I didn't think that August's eating disorder would be confirmed this way! Also I guess Vincent does have ADHD then? It was not just an excuse to get pills.

"Because we are different?" Yeah... that's what this episode is really about, how different you both are. Which wouldn't be an issue for me if it was less about such important matters :/ I wish we had seen them learn more from each other this season, instead of being in conflict to much.

I agree with Felice that it's getting out of hand! (I still enjoy the whole thing though 😁). I don't dislike Stella as much as a lot of people seem to, but I don't like her in this scene and how she talks to Felice!

Cutest scene of the episode.

I adore this scene. It makes me want to cry. I love them both and I'm so happy that they're slowly finding their way back to each other <3

"Erik was there." This sceeeeene!! Such a punch in the face, so fucking terrible >< (So well acted also!!)

Another trauma for my poor boy...

So lots of mixed feelings with this episode! I'm very frustrated with Wilhelm and his reactions, but I love the Sara arc. I really like the end of the episode, with some very good scenes. But now I really don't wanna go watch the next one ><

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doodlegirl1998 · 1 year ago

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Talk about how BK stans are wierd about Izu. But lets talk how Izu's abuse was deliberate on Hori's part (again, this is not "random guy pressing many buttoms" he sit down and wrote this shit) and how people, mostly BK's stans ignore in favor of fanon bkdk

Izu's dad is mia (In Japan some families use actors to pretend to be the kid dad's. Like wow ) and we dont even know his job.

Inko is a beglectful mom, thanks to how Hori wrote her. (For those reading, neglectful doesnt need to always be "she ignored how her kid is starving" Inko never bother to know her own son or do anything)

Why Izu accepts he is useless? Not victim blaming here but....this is smth I don't get why Izu nods and accept he is useless. "A lesson in hopeless" which could explain but...that would have to apply to others students who were abused by BK. And they seem fine.

(Also the lil shit Izu saved from Bk and turns against Izu later...why? I get kids can be assholes! But while the lil shit doesnt need to be Izu's bff...why try to please BK?)

Hi @mikeellee 👋

Both Bakugou stans and Hori (to a lesser extent) are horrible when it comes to Izuku, they both seem to treat Izuku as the cheerleader / supporting act to Bakugou.

Bakugou's /BkDk stans (mostly) tend to write what they wish to see - an asshole with a heart of gold who redeems himself and proves himself worthy of being Izuku's partner. While seemingly unknowingly writing him as abusive - screaming at his partner, still calling him a "Shitty Deku" but fondly or doing worse like causing Izuku to try and kill himself or dumping Izuku via text while Izuku is in hospital...

All the while Hori neglects Izuku and his family sidelining him for the Todoroki's (no hate to the Todofam) but...

Where's Midoriya Hisashi? If he's AFO you would think Hori would build up to this moment / give Izu deja vu when he sees AFO - anything? Or is Hisashi a random asshole civilian who upped and left his family or tragically died?

Why does Midoriya Inko act so neglectful yet worried? How Hori writes Inko is pretty poor honestly. In canon, she's not an evil, mean mum nor is she supermum like I've seen the most common fandom perceptions be - She's just there. A true background character. She's just stood there not doing anything while her quirkless son gets violently beaten up for ten years and does nothing. (She had to have had some idea what was going on, no four year old could hide being exploded.) Yet U.A post Kamino she threatens to pull Izu out - now Izu has a quirk, why this change in attitude now Izu has a quirk? Hori never shows her actively doing things for Izuku like a mother should; she cries and worries but thats all she does - while Izuku comforts her! At least other shonen parents have the excuse of being dead so therefore being unable to protect their kids...

Izuku seemingly accepting himself as useless... It began with the acceptance of the hero name 'Deku' to me it felt like someone, who had been bullied for their disability, making their hero name "Spaz" just because a new friend at UA called them once that - 'but in a nice way.' So that "makes it ok now!" When really it doesn't - certainly not like how MHA showed, in real life moments like reclaiming the insult (especially with a history attached like Izuku's does) has to take a lot of work. It felt like whiplash to have Izuku suddenly "be ok with it." And honestly... I don't think he is truly, he still thinks of himself as useless and thats reinforced by 1) everyone around him calling him "Deku" still - including Bakugou. Izuku's internal monologue even supports that he still thinks of himself as useless which is just SAD at this point. 2) Izuku rarely (if ever) getting any rightful praise. 3) Izuku getting shared blame for shit that is Bakugou's fault alone. House arrest should have been just Bakugou's punishment and Izu should have kicked his ass to the moon.

And for your final point, that is true that kid is a little asshole and you would think that in a school where most people are aspiring to be heroes there would be some (other than Izu) trying to stand up for people being bullied against Bakugou...

But at the same time it's realistic for a class to be afraid of the violent loud mouth bully who is strong and unafraid to throw a punch. Imagine that but throwing explosions, burns and explosive punches - yikes.

Either way, Bakugou's popularity should have tanked with his 'garbage personality' when he got into U.A but Hori wants to wank him off.

#mha critical #bnha critical #anti bakugou katsuki #anti bakudeku

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theghostofblackbunnymask · 3 years ago

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Welcome To The Bunny Cult Writing Event!

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What's The Bunny Cult Writing Event?

The Bunny Cult Writing Event is celebration of Black Bunny Mask (Also known as Ghost/Bell) hitting 400+ followers!

What's In The Event?

This event will allow Yandere DSMP writers to write from one of the many AUs and Prompts.

How Can I Join The Event?

You'll have to tell me in my inbox (Not as a anom) and tell me which AU/Prompt you'll be doing and which characters will be in the story.

And once the story is finished you have to tag me so I can add you to the list of people who participated

Will There Be Winners?

Nope! This is mainly for fun for people in the Yandere DSMP community and the DSMP community in general. You can be competitive with your friends if you want to though.

Rules

1: You can't do a prompt someone else already took

2: If you don't want to be in the event anymore, please DM me in my inbox so I can take you take you off of the list

3: NO SMUT (Smut can be implied, but not full on smut, and can only be done with people who are ok with smut) OR PREGNANT READERS

4:Don't be toxic or bring in drama, this is all for fun and I don't want negativity during this celebration

5:Please don't make fun of others writings or grammar.

6:Polyamorous relationships are allowed and encourages

7: No yandere Philza

8: AUs are reusable, if someone chose the Purge AU you can still do it

AUs

Royalty AU

High School AU

Mafia AU

Cult AU

God AU

College AU

Boy/Girl Band AU

Fantasy AU

Murder Mystery AU

Apocalypse AU

Coffee Shop AU

Angel and Demons AU

Dystopian AU

Sea Creatures AU

Mythology AU

Pirate AU

Medieval AU

Purge AU

Aggresive/Harsh Prompts

The ones below are by @dearyscribbles

•"You act like you hold any control over me. If you try to run, I'll make sure the only way you'll be able to eat is through a feeding tube"

•"What? What will you do help them? Beg me not to go? Scream at me to leave them alone? Fight me? The best thing you can do is behave, just like the pathetic bitch you are"

•"You know, maybe, just maybe, if you LISTENED to me, maybe we would've have to go through this. Maybe I wouldn't have to come home so bloody, maybe your friends would still be alive. It's all up to you, and you still manage to fuck everything up"

•"What are you crying for, GOD I can't stand when you do this. Why are you upset, huh? Because you looked at someone else when I told you not to? Because you broke the rules, and now you have to face the consequences of your own actions?"

•"YOU wouldn't have ANYTHING without me. Not this house, not the food, the clothes off your back, hell, not even that damn phone you're threatening me with. Do you want me to show you how good you have it? Maybe it's time I start playing the bad guy you think I am" Taken by @bookoffandoms

The ones below are by @animeyanderelover

“Do you want me to break your legs or lock you in a cage to prevent you from running away?”

“One more chance! I’m giving you one more chance to fucking stop resisting!”

“I can end all of your pain. You just have to say these three words.”

“If you don’t kiss me back, I’ll slit someone’s throat.” Done by @grrrrr-dsmp

“Listen, I’m giving you two choices. Either you start eating willingly or I’ll force you. There’s no way I’m letting you starve yourself to death.”

"You can’t find your clothes? That’s a shame. But you can wear mine. They look better on you anyways.”

70. “Hearing you say that makes me want to fuck you so badly.”

71. “Your body, your heart, your soul. It all belongs to me." Taken by @god1ngs

Soft/Toxic Comfort Prompts

“You think you’re ugly? Who told you so? Tell me so I can give them an agonizing death for making you think that. And after I’m finished with them, I’m going to worship you in bed until you see how beautiful you really are.”

“Please stop crying. You make me feel even worse. But you need to understand, if I wouldn’t have chained you to the bed, you would have tried to run away again.”

"Babe…! Shit! I’m sorry you had to see this, but please believe me! He deserved it! No,no,no, don’t be scared of me. You know I would never harm you.” Taken by @aungel

Desperate/Obsessed Prompts

The ones below are by @animeyanderelover

“Can you at least pretend to love me? Just for tonight?”

“You don’t understand! If you accept me now, I’ll be your slave!”

“Stop giving me that look! Stop looking at me as if I’m a monster!”

“I desire any physical touch with you so please hit me more.”

“What I am doing? I’m punishing myself. Why? Because I upset you earlier.”

“Hate me, scream at me, hit me. Do whatever you want with me, but please stay with me.”

“…You are telling me that I can live with my life without you, but you don’t seem to understand that YOU are my life.”

"You had a nightmare about me? That’s great! That means you think of me even when you dream. Even though I hope your next dream about me will be more pleasant.”

“Use me however you want too. My body is yours.”

Now let the meeting commence...

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wheres-the-control · 3 years ago

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how I lose weight while eating a healthy-ish amount of calories

disclaimer: I'm not a dietitian nor a health care provider; this is just my experience.

1. I learnt about nutrition from reliable sources - I started with an e-book from a fitness influencer. I knew he was trustworthy thanks to my brother. you can start with looking through a WHO page or following registered dietitians on social media (esp. instagram) to find reliable information because it's easily accessible and free. when I understood science behind weight loss (TDEE, calorie deficit), I understood that I can lose weight without restricting and restricting doesn't pay off because you can achieve a skinny body without hurting yourself.

2. I don't binge - I'm eating enough calories to fulfil my nutritional needs and keep me full throughout the day, so that stops me from binging. in general, I have more control over food now because my body isnt starving, I still eat sweets or fast foods, sometimes I eat sweets for several days in a row but. there are situations when I eat a few sweets in one day, but that is rare (it happens mainly before and during my period), but it doesn't make any difference as I keep my diet fairly consistent during the rest of the month. FYI - eating 1000 or 1200 calories a day is still too low; I have learnt that generally, adults shouldn't eat less than 1500 cal per day.

3. I eat intuitively - I know it is extremely difficult for a person with an ed to eat intuitively. I used to calculate my TDEE and count calories to make sure I eat a proper amount of food but it triggered my ed. when I was ready (after several years of struggling), I started to eat intuitively because (for me) it's the best way to make sure that I will achieve long-lasting and sustainable results.

4. I have more energy when I eat more - if you eat more, you have more energy. when I was starving myself, I did not have the energy to do anything; I just went to school, ate one meal a day, and went to sleep. having more energy resulted in working out more (I work out for 4 times a week). in addition, I have the energy to do a lot of movement at home (chores), I move my body when I'm sitting; I also walk wherever I can (i walk to a university everyday which equals to going on 30 minutes walks everyday, I take stairs instead of an elevation)

disclaimer: please note that I'm taking antidepressants so they also increase my energy.

5. I exercise - I have energy to work out and I love it. generally, i work out several times in a week but anything is better than nothing. there are days or even months when I don't work out so I just eat the same amountof calories and maintain my weight - im fine with it because exercisingis not a punishment. you also don't have to do only cardio because if you want to be toned, you will have to do some bodyweight training or lift light weights. there is no such a thing as a spot fat reduction, and you can lose muscle while restricting without losing any fat. taking care of your muscles (and bones' density) while training is very important for health reasons and it will improve your body.

disclaimer: when I mention working out a lot and moving a lot I don't mean it as a punishment. I truly love exercising and the fact that it makes me stronger and healthier. when I was at the peak of my ed, I didn't stick to exercising regularly because I was doing it out of self-hatred, not out of self-love.

6. I'm in a calorie deficit - I should eat 1900 calories because of my workouts, but I eat approx. 300 calories less. this way, I'm actively losing weight, and it's not that hard because I eat enough food not to get hungry during the day or night. because of my disordered eating I tend to undereat but I think that it's better to eat 1500 calories a day than 500 calories. you may think that small deficit will result in slower weight loss but please have in mind the fact that you will probably stop binging and start moving more, which in the end will make your weight loss journey faster.

7. I started caring for my health - tbh, if I did not start caring about my health, I would probably never recover. in the past, I used to punish myself for eating by sh, starving or exercising. now I try to be as healthy as possible for myself (and my loved ones) in order to live a long and happy life without unnecessary health issues caused by an ed. I constantly try to improve my health by including whole foods into my diet.

this is a long process, I started to learn about nutrition and implementing healthy habits after 4 years of recovery. at the beginning, I made small changes not to overwhelm myself. because of that, I started to be happy with my diet and exercise routine only a year ago (at the same time, I started to lose weight, not even on purpose).

as you can see, everything is connected. if you start eating healthily, you will be able to do many other things that will make you happier, healthier, and skinnier.

if you want to recover, it may be best to see a specialist (a registered dietitian, a therapist or a psychiatrist) because even though I've managed to recover by myself, that may not be the case for other people.

please remember that you are worth of recovery and you deserve to eat.

#not pr0 #tw ed #tw ed talk #tw ed mention #c 🦋#i want to be skinny #not pr0 just using tags #tw ed thoughts #tw 4n4 #4n0r3x14 #tw sh #tw ed stuff

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matth1w · 4 years ago

Text

Tribulations

Pairing: Michael Langdon x Reader

Summary: Catching the eye of the interviewer, you face trials of temptation and faith.

Associated Verse: Blessed is the one who reads and those who hear the words of the prophecy, and heeds the things which are written in it; for the time is near. Revelation 1:3

Warnings: Death, Violence, Blood, Nightmares, Mental Manipulation, Blasphemy (Michael Langdon and all his fuckery)

Rating: All, but it’s a darkish fic

Word Count: 3,070 Words

Note: I very intentionally did not use his first name

Note 2: I’m not back... just finally finished & edited something for once 😅

Forever Tags: @captainrogerss // @banditthewriter // @fics-not-tragedies // @commander-writergirl // @zodiyack

Tag Lists Are Open / Requests are Closed

D O N O T R E P O S T M Y W O R K

The crackling embers calmed you and guided your heartbeat to slow to a steady tempo. The warmth that radiated from the fireplace threatened to bring a slew of memories from what felt like a past life.

You knew you should turn to face your interviewer, that you probably seemed rude ignoring him to instead stare longingly into the warming fire but something kept you there.

You felt... safe.

For the first time since the sirens sounded, you felt safe.

That thought brought you peace and you finally sighed in content and smiled as you turned to face the man who claimed to be your savior.

Mr. Langdon simply raised his eyebrows at you, not commenting on your actions of the past few minutes. The only other movement was his fingers slowly stroking the underside of his chin. They seemed to sparkle from the light catching the shining stones and golden metal.

He seemed more at ease as well, like he was able to experience the thoughts of peace and happiness that had been running in your mind. Or maybe the fire brought its own kind of warmth to him as well.

The sound of a log crumbling into ash turned your attention back to the fireplace. Your eyes only rested there for a moment but when you turned back the man in front of you had changed.

No longer a beautiful man leisurely sitting by the fire, Mr. Langdon instead had a furrowed brow with a matching grimace and leaned forward the moment your eyes met his once more.

You found yourself wondering what could have brought this sudden change. Before your thoughts could spiral any deeper into questions, you saw him open his mouth to speak. The low timber and plush lips brought an unwilling blush to your cheeks.

“How are you... enjoying things at the outpost?” Mr. Langdon’s pause and scrutinizing eyes made you nervous. Like he was a seasoned hunter laying a perfectly placed trap and he had no true care for your enjoyment, and instead was hoping you fell for the trick.

Despite the countless warning signs blaring in your mind, for some reason you wanted to tell him the truth. How much you hated Madam Venable for ruining an already depressing situation, how you wanted to scream every time a petty argument broke out over dinner, how many nights you laid awake wondering why you were facing this tribulation. Were you chosen or simply damned?

Oh, many times you wished you could escape this sadistic stone tomb.

Recalling his assurance, rather threat, that he would know if you dared to lie to him, you settled on the truth... just more simple.

“This isn’t how I imagined the apocalypse would go.”

A weighted statement full of multiple meanings but the truth nonetheless.

At that, you saw his lips flick up into a quick smile and his eyes glimmer in the low light dancing around the room.

“Is that so?” Mr. Langdon leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs and clasping his hands over his knee, the simple movement somehow seductive.

A flutter in your heart brought warmth to your body. Maybe it was the fact that you seemed to amuse Mr. Langdon, got him to smile in a way that didn’t seem malicious. Made him turn into the man you had seen just moments before.

You let yourself smile in return. For some reason, your tense body relaxed as if you were two friends casually conversing over a shared humorous experience.

Instead of laying out your reasons, something reckless inside your soul emboldened you to taunt him with a vague truth. Something about his pretentious demeanor intrigued you, especially after Gallant mimicked his line about being able to sense the darkest things about a person. You were desperate to see what he was hiding in the shadows of his own being.

“Yes.”

You looked him in the eyes, watching as he stared back blankly, his mask of aloof superiority now back. You knew it then to be a mask — you could feel his genuine self itching to be shown.

He was genuinely pleased to have someone make him feel something. For a moment, you wanted to continue your thoughts, share every thought and feeling and secret, but you wanted to see how far the game would go.

Your rational side knew it would likely end with you being left to rot in the outpost. It didn’t matter much. You accepted your death long ago and this entertainment finally brought some life back into your veins.

After nearly a minute of a scrutinizing glare, Michael removed his hands from his knee and laid them flat on the arms of the black leather chair.

Your attention was brought to the ringed fingers drumming lightly, as if he was pondering his next words. Something inside you didn’t quite believe him. As if it was an act for show. That he knew exactly was he was going to do next. He was simply... waiting.

Toying with you.

Seeing if you’d crack under the silence. Fill the lack of noise and if so, how you’d do it.

With an apology?

An insecure question?

A babbling attempt to say what you think he wants to hear?

Or something... else?

You thought forcing Michael to speak next would surely annoy him but instead when he opened his mouth, he seemed as if he was amused by your resolute rebellion. His teeth shined from the flickering fire, making him seem like a hungry beast.

The warmth seemed to increase from your side, like the flames were growing, intensifying, as you pressed on. You wondered if your words or his were the fuel.

“Venable told me you caused quite a ruckus when you got here.”

You grimaced, recalling your punishment of starved time in the cell below.

“Is that a question?”

His eyebrows raised at your snarky retort, his mouth a thin line. He must be getting impatient. You didn’t like this look of him.

“I’m sorry.” You murmured out with a well placed sigh.

“I just... didn’t, and don’t, agree with that rule.”

He hummed noncommittally.

“This outpost has a quite extensive library. So why bother yourself with stealing something as silly as fairytales?”

There was an challenge in his eyes as he continued speaking as he stood.

“Now, at least it wasn’t some cute version, I’ll give you that.”

His steps resounded as he moved to circle behind you. Daring you to follow him with your eyes or a turn of your head but you stayed still.

“How many days did Venable keep you in that cell?”

He placed his hands on the arms of your chair, leaning over to encircle you even further. His presence smothering you as the heat suffocated you even further. You couldn’t tell if it came from him or the fire.

“Hmm? Tell me, was it worth it?”

As his last words left his mouth in a whisper, he leaned in so his mouth was brushing against your hair.

Your breath hitched from his proximity, your skin raised in what felt like a strange mix of fear and anticipation. Your mouth felt dry as you forced yourself to swallow.

“Yes.”

The simple response and all its weight hung heavy in the air as only the sound continued to be the still lively fire to your right. You knew it to be no ordinary thing. Mr. Langdon made no movement, staying torturously close.

After what felt like an eternity, he took in a deep breath through his nose, seeming to breathe you in as much as he was refilling his lungs. You wondered if he even needed to breathe.

You could sense the satisfied smirk and feel the hot air as he leaned in to the shell of your ear.

“Good.”

You were unsure how to respond. Even more unsure if you should.

Mr. Langdon stood upright again, the soft brush of cool air hitting the back of your neck, relieving you as it sent shivers down your spine.

His left hand came into your view and you finally looked up at him, hesitant to instantly take it as much as you wanted to. There was still a part of you that was weary and unsure. Unwilling to not question.

Seeing a polite, disarming smile on his lips, you placed your hand in his, surprisingly warm and soft, and rose from your seat.

He turned your body towards him, the proximity once again sending mixed signals throughout your body. More so excitement now, but still laced with the ever present tendrils of trepidation.

He took his hand from yours but then moved to place it under your chin. Not cupping it in a romantic manner, but like how an adult would do to a pitifully naive child.

Your skin flushed where it met his, like he had the same power as the fireplace before. Something in the back of your mind noted how it had simmered once more. The flames calming as you accepted his extended hand.

Mr. Langdon cocked his head and let his eyes be overrun with clear pity. He even sealed what felt like the overly faux emotion with an empathetic sigh.

“Although life isn’t the fairytale you wished for, try to make the best of it, princess.”

You had to control every muscle in your face to not scrunch your nose at the words that stung like a patronizing slap despite the show of emotions that accompanied them.

Not trusting your tongue, you silently nodded. His fingers dug in for a moment like he was dissatisfied you maintained your composure and was about to lose his. He ripped his hand from your chin with a snarl and turned around to step behind his desk, his eyes roaming the wooden surface as he flexed his fingers, perhaps your touch had pained him.

He pulled out the thin black chair before he paused and looked back up at you, once more a different man than moments before. A Cheshire grin was clear on his face and that same glimmer of mischief back again.

“Oh, one last thing.”

“Yes, Mr. Langdon?” you forced out evenly, trying your best to control the whirlwind of emotions pounding on the door inside your chest to be let out.

“Remember, heed the warning of Snow White. Never trust witches or beautiful apples.”

His sing song voice sounded light like another taunt with his dismissive wave but the look in his eyes turned dark and intense as he lowered himself into his chair. Like he was spurring, no demanding you to remember his words, this moment.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The somber warning that felt like a thinly veiled threat haunted your bones. He made no other comments to you that day or any other, didn’t even bother to look at you when you two were in the same room or hall.

You thought he had forgotten about you. His amusement snuffed out and attention passed to the others... until the night before Halloween. Or simply, what you were told was Halloween.

You opened your bedroom door to find an unfamiliar book lying open on your pillow. Its golden edges shined in the candlelight as you cautiously stepped forward. A Bible - open to the first page of the Book of Revelation.

Blood red words stood out, written in the margins. You leaned over to get a better look, not daring to touch the holy object that felt tainted with darkness.

‘Was this how you imagined it?’

There was no name nor did you recognize the handwriting but you knew for certain this had come from Mr. Langdon. The smallest amount of heat tickled at the back of your neck.

You laid down, unsure how to react, still unwilling to touch or even close the book. Your skin prickling as though it could sense the heavy feeling of dread in the air.

Once you finally succumbed to an uneasy slumber, you dreamt of the bombs.

Sirens wailed from above as you trekked across an endless forest. Calling for help, voice hoarse as none came. The land turned barren with every step, an ashen land of death. Each moment, the sirens twisted more and more into tormented wails. A torrent of winds coming from each direction, bitter and sharp as knives against your skin.

With a pain in your chest that you could only describe as your heart being torn out piece by piece, you finally crumbled - broken and unable to continue. Weak and unwilling to fight any longer. You looked to the sky to beg for mercy when you saw an open door, its glowing insides the halls of the sanctuary promised to you. As you ran with energy anew, the sultry voice you heard was like a holy instrument carrying through the air.

Mr. Langdon came into vision, still blurred around the edges, you were unable to see him wholly. His forehead and golden locks bloodied from the thorns that encircled his head. One hand extended to you, another behind his back, his words coming to you clearly now as the thorns twisted into sharp horns.

Let me save you.

As you reached out your hand to his, the light faded from behind him, instead bringing forward his hidden hand that held a beating, bloody heart. Its steady tempo drowning out his plea as you felt a seeping emptiness consume your chest.

You woke with a start, body drenched in sweat as if you had been hugged by the sun itself. Your mind spun, consumed with a single thought - if the dream had progressed, would you hesitate to take his hand, despite what he had turned into before your eyes?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Your heart was beating so fast you barely heard a word Venable was sprouting, only snippets of sounds came through between the coursing blood that filled your ears.

Your mouth was practically watering at the sweet smell, the feel of the smooth skin in your hands, the taste you knew would be yours if you only took a bite of the shiny red treasure held within the palm of your hand.

But that voice in the back of your mind was screaming at you, back away into the shadows slowly and whatever you do, do NOT eat the forbidden fruit. It will bring no knowledge, only suffering and agony beyond compare.

Something even further hidden away is telling you to run. Run as fast and as far as you can from this evil place and never, ever look back.

You hear Mr. Langdon’s words over and over in your mind. So powerful, you can almost feel his breath tickling your ear once more, his enticing warmth overtaking your body.

‘Remember, heed the warning of Snow White...

Never trust witches or beautiful apples.’

In what felt like the final step of a test, you decided to pause before sinking your teeth into the apple alongside all the other residents and instead slowly backed into the shadows of the hallway toward the kitchen.

The silence hung in the air, and you were a moment away from turning around when you heard a cough, then another and another, the sounds of shared agonized death building in a crescendo confirmed your fears.

It confirmed that Mr. Langdon somehow knew. And if he knew... why didn’t he stop it?

A thought ran through your head, a darker one biting at its heels, so fast you were unsure it was your own.

Why didn’t I?

...Because they deserved it

You desperately shook your head to rid yourself of the thought and suddenly realized the truth with resolute finality. There was no where to go. No where to run. No one to run to. No matter where you fled, it would be a dead end. Even if you escaped this cave, you would only be thrust into another wasteland, wandering the purgatory above.

You found yourself in the kitchen, unaware your feet had even brought you there. In what seemed to be a final act of mercy, or perhaps penance, you spotted a large butcher knife hanging on the wall.

The metal held tightly in your hand felt like an extension of your body from your place in the corner of the darkened pantry. You had locked yourself in, backed yourself into a corner. But where was there to run - truly, to escape to?

A desperate prayer silently fell from your lips. Not for peace nor forgiveness. But for Mr. Langdon’s capsule of pain free salvation.

Nonetheless, you figure even a knife to the heart would be better than suffering the death forced upon the other residents. At the first sound or sign the killers have noticed your absence, you’ll take yourself out. Death was no longer fearful. It was the undeniable ending you had accepted many months ago.

The sounds of steady steps broke through your contemplation. Your hand stilled as you raised the blade above your chest. Your body was unable to move for some unknown reason even though everything inside you begged you to move already.

This was the end.

Accept it.

Instead, all you could focus on are the sounds of the footfalls. Light but purposeful. Steady and strong, unlike Venable’s wavering trio of steps.

Calm, almost casual. As if they were taking a stroll in a park or admiring paintings in a museum. Unlike the rushed, quick steps of an always determined Ms. Mead.

As your mind caught up with what your heart and instincts knew, a smooth voice broke the silence, its undeniable comfort charging your body with its light.

“You can come out now, Princess.”

You looked up, a mixture of wet and dried tears on your cheeks, and saw a magnificent sight.

There was your savior, a circle of candlelight cradled his golden locks and danced around like a halo on fire. Tears sprung from your eyes once more. Not out of fear, but out of pure awe and admiration.

The knife fell with a loud echoing clang in the now empty stone halls. You could only stare on as Mr. Langdon shifted to lower himself to you.

He brought his right hand from behind his back, and extended it to you.

Without hesitation, this time, you accepted it.

You accepted Him.

#michael langdon x reader #Langdon x reader #Michael Langdon x you #Michael Langdon reader insert #micheal Langdon fic #ahs fic #ahs apocalypse #lmao welp this next tag gonna be displayed at my death #antichrist x reader #🥴🥴🥴#tw: death #tw: character death #tw: violence #tw: blasphemy #tw: nightmares #tw: mental manipulation #Michael Langdon x reader #dark fic #tw: blood

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wizkiddx · 4 years ago

Text

...surprise part 3

{part1} {part 2}

I got there in the end!!!! sorry I felt like this dragged quite a lot but just quite happy to get it done ahah. Any feedback / advice would be greatly appreciated :)

TW: this is pretty heavy angst, miscarriages / thoughts of self harm / death pls don't read if this could strike a cord x

Summary: Y/n has absolutely not a clue how to tell Tom and that only strains the both incredibly.

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The drive home was deathly silent. Tom’s Audi seamlessly drove down the near-empty roads on a sleepy Sunday evening. The whole time Y/n sat with one leg curled up by her chest as she absently stared out of the passenger window. Honestly, though, she was not taking anything of the view in, all processing power in her brain was in overdrive. Souly focused on how the fuck she was going to tell Tom what she had done. She knew Tom kept glancing over at her, with the panicked hint to his eyes- no matter how comforting he was trying to appear. His grip on the steering wheel was every tightening, he felt as though right now that was the only control he had. Still with no idea what was going on - but this time his mum knew too. And his mum when she came to get him from the living was not calm either.

Something he always admired about his mum was how cool she was in a crisis. Even if Paddy likened her to the ’rage monster’ at times when she was pissed because he’d left the freezer door open, or something equally as stupid, when it came down to it, when there was a really serious issue… she was composed. Calm and collected. So when she came in and called Tom, taking him away from his brothers, he could tell something was wrong by the look in her eye. She was upset, that was clear to him, but there was something more. It wasn’t straight up panic (not like if Y/n had passed out or something) but it was… it was a quiet urgency.

It meant it was bad.

Without the need to ever consider it, Tom knew this wasn’t anything to do with Y/n being unfaithful. It hadn’t even crossed his mind. And that meant, something must've happened personally to Y/n - which maybe scared him even more. If it was a betrayal of him, that would principally hurt Tom himself - which would kill him, but he would deal with it. It was the fear of the unknown and the complete powerlessness in this situation that had Tom wishing the drive away so he’d finally understand.

The drive felt painstakingly long for Tom… yet far too short for Y/n to come up with a plan.

When the pair finally pulled into the driveway, they both didn’t even exchange glances before heading out the car and slamming the doors shut. The crunch of their shoes on the gravel path to the front door was deafeningly loud as Tom fished the keys out of his pocket - this time with a sense of dread that contrasted so strongly the excitement he’d felt less than 24 hours ago doing the exact same thing.

Tom held the door open for her, as she fiddled with the cuff of her sleeve; eyes still glued to the floor. He flicked on the light to illuminate the hall as she slipped off her shoes. He mirrored her action and then for the first time since his parents' house looked her in the eye. Just that action had him near spilling his guts about how worried he was about her, before Y/n beat him to it.

“I’m…I’m gonna take a shower.”

And it had him floored. How could she just ignore the bloody massive and luminous elephant in the room? He couldn’t even respond, his brain was so confused as to what the fuck was going on. So she just nodded smally and headed straight upstairs. Leaving him in a stupor by the doorway.

Meanwhile, Y/n was just about holding it together until she got behind the locked door of their ensuite. Then it broke. She broke.

She pulled the clothes that drowned her off frantically, scratching and grabbing until the garments ripped off her body and were thrown across the room in haste. In the mirror, the reflection of the person that stood there somewhat had her transfixed. Tilting her head to the side, Y/n took careful steps up toward it - her eyes transfixed on her exposed abdomen. She was hollow. So very empty and it had her hypnotised. How barely weeks ago she was growing a real human inside there - creating something that should’ve gone onto laugh and smile and grow and learn. And love.

Now she was empty.

The poor thing though had been so deprived by their own mother; so unwanted and hated. They had been starved of all love by the person who was supposed to love them the most. The person who was supposed to be half their world for the first few years at least.

It was her fault.

Y/n hated herself, heck she wanted to punish herself for what she’d done. And yet, there was something so pure about her stomach, about where that angel had been. She wanted to punch herself, to kick and hurt, to make her feel pain. Except for this little life force, or the remnants of them - had her respecting it. Instead, she gently rubbed her stomach, which was flat rather than full like it should’ve been, and yet it felt like a relief. At a snail's pace, she trailed the tips of her finger across her belly just drawing (what she thought were) random patterns - however to anyone else they would have noticed the silhouette of a small human.

She took her time int the shower, having the water close to blisteringly hot but not quite there - using it as an attempt to purge her body of the thoughts, of the guilt. Eventually, though she couldn’t drag out the bathroom routine any longer, she had to go and face him. In reality, Y/n was well aware of how unfair this was on Tom - he had been terrified on the way back here, she knew that. But the thought of admitting to him this truly abhorrent thing she’d done, selfishly she didn’t want to tell him tonight. Just one more night sharing a bed with him, one morning of seeing his puffy eyes and bed hair, one last time hearing his gruff morning voice. Before he found out the real her and before he left.

Thankfully, when she finally drew the courage to unlock the door and leave her sanctuary, their bedroom was empty and she took that opportunity. As fast as she possibly could, Y/n changed into an old nightshirt before huddling under the covers. Tom had been so careful with her feelings today, he might just leave her be. Delay the conversation till tomorrow. It was the dream.

And dreams don’t come true.

Tom walked in, she could hear the soft pad of his feet on the cream carpet as she tried to act fast asleep - regulating her breathing and relaxing every muscle she could. When in fact that the whole process was the opposite of relaxing, she was on such high alert, waiting for a sign of him leaving her alone for the evening. Quite expectedly though, it didn’t quite go down that way. She heard him sigh, felt him sit on his side of the bed as her body rippled with the dip on the bed, felt his eyes piercing her.

“Y/n…” the tone of his voice had her wincing internally, he was hurting. “Y/n please… just talk to me?” She was too scared to move. “ I know your awake Y/n we both know who’s the actor here” Y/n knew Tom was trying to lighten the mood, trying to make her feel a bit more comfortable but then he switched back to an underlying hint of desperation. “Please talk to me.” She didn’t have a choice, he wasn't going to let up - Y/n could tell. So she rolled over and opened her eyes facing him.

“I’m tired, Tom. Can we do this tomorrow?” His face completely morphed and she knew she fucked up. He wasn’t upset or worried or scared any more.

“I’m sorry but that is not fair.”

“Please just-“

“NO. ah” He sighed, as if disciplining himself for the instinctive angry tone. “Look- I-I’ve been going at your pace. I’ve been treading on eggshells all day. I didn’t want to push you but I’m bloody terrified! I mean you told my mum! And she’s worried so that means I’m even more stressed and-…. Just please Y/n. You know I’d never judge you I’m just worried because I care.”

And just like that, she didn’t have a choice. She was really hurting the man she loved.

As a result, Y/n pushed herself up into a sitting position, still hugging the duvet around her in a protective blanket as she looked into his glassy eyes. It tore her heart out.

“I’m really sorry” she pursed her lips blowing out an exhale, trying to collect all her thoughts, feelings and emotions together. “I’ve been trying to all day but-.. it’s just I’m finding this really hard to express in words.”

“I don’t mind if it takes all night, just I-I want to understand.” He was just too kind and she didn’t deserve it. So picking at the duvet while pulling her legs closer in protection she nodded.

“Okay, so-so I just take you through it chronologically? And-and then I can go to Y/f/n’s place so.”

“Why would you got to hers?” He asked, his eyebrows drawn tightly together in confusion. He knew you hadn’t been unfaithful - his mum most definitely wouldn’t have reacted in the way she did had Y/n betrayed Tom.

“Just… just listen first.” She didn’t want to answer that question, to speak it into existence. Him kicking her out, in a rage of fury and anger at how evil she could be. She thought he’d just reply and accept it, not feel the need to calm her.

“I could never ever hate you Y/n please, it’s a bit insulting to me that you think I would.”

His words had her a little shocked - she had definitely not expected that reaction. His offence.

“Umm okay just… just don’t promise till you hear.” He gave her a stern look, not enough to make her back down or change her mind from what she thought was inevitable. “So. So it was when you were away. You’d just gone to Atlanta I think and-and I woke up one morning and was sick and it was weird I don’t know… um so I took the day off but I was okay until the next morning and-and I was sick again. It was weird so I took the next day off because you know Elliot I work with? He’s-he's got some broken immune system or something so we really can’t go in if we are ill. But I was fine until the next morning again and-and then it kind of hit me. I hadn’t had a period in ages and-and yeah.”

“Your pregnant?” Tom asked, trying to wrap his head around the current situation and what she was saying.

“Was…” Her voice wavered and she paused a second “ I-I was. I was shocked you know? We…we weren’t ready.” Y/n shifted uncomfortably, pushing herself closer to the headboard. “You said you didn’t want kids now and I mean … we- we are barely adults ourself right? It-it was so stupid but I couldn’t tell you could I?… Phone you up and say by the way I’m pregnant with a kid you don’t want!...” She dared to look at him, only for a second, seeing the way he just stared at her as though transfixed. She couldn’t keep looking at him.

“So I was waiting till you would get back … er next week, well when you were supposed to be back anyway.” She scoffed lightly at that, how the whole entire situation had been completely flipped on its head. “I would have had the scan then. And-and I went and it so stupid because they were a blob but-shit. They were so beautiful.” She hadn’t even noticed, suddenly absorbed in what she was saying but Tom leant over to grab one of her hands because it was trembling so vigorously. It wasn’t that he wanted to comfort her, he needed to. Because really? When it mattered, he hadn’t and that was already eating away at him.

“And I stupidly…. So fucking stupidly… I thought what if? I got excited and in my head… I don’t fucking know I just thought that I-it, it might work. I really - really thought it could work.” She couldn’t feel it but Tom wormed his arm around her shoulder, squeezing her into his side. “But by that point, I’d already filled them with so much hate. I wanted them out for so long and…and then I just- well I got what I thought I wanted.”

For the first time since she started her speech, Y/n wasn’t absorbed in retelling the story. Noticing her position with Toms arms protectively wrapped around her, she dared to look up into his eyes. And they weren’t right. It was wrong. Because here he was still looking at her with these incredibly soft warm brown eyes, his thumb rubbing up and down on the back of her shoulder blade.

“Love, I’m so so sorry.”

She was bemused. What the hell was he doing? Was this just a double bluff, acting all soft before he was about to rip her heart out - even if it was what she deserved, that was exceptionally cruel?

“No Tom your not listening. I-I couldn’t keep your baby alive! I-I wished them away… I wanted them gone!” Now she was plainly hysterical, shouting and yelling at Tom as her hands shook.

It broke Tom’s heart. He knew this was his fault - at least a little. Clearly, she should never have been in a position to have to deal with this herself, that was obvious. And it made him guilty… but what hit harder? She had very clearly implied she was worried about his reaction, he should never have let her worry. Because Tom knew he loved Y/n unconditionally, at this point that should be a given - for all he cared there was nothing, within the limits of reason, she could do that would make him seriously reconsider his opinion of her. Even then, if his opinion were ever forced to change so dramatically... he still knew he wouldn’t be able to stop loving her. Loving isn't an option, it is not a choice. You helplessly surrender yourself to it. And yet she was apparently less sure of this fact.

“I’m so sorry you had to deal with this by yourself.” And he meant it. He truly meant it. However, Y/n was not having it at all - in her state, in her frame of mind, this was him just torturing her; acting it out only to break her heart. His words and her position wrapped protectively in his arms dawned on her. It had her leaping up from the bed, tears streaming down her face as she gestured wildly.

“Tom that’s not fair! Don’t you get it? I KILLED YOUR BABY! They were alive and then I wasn’t enough for them! IT’S MY FAULT!” To put it simply, she looked insane. Screaming, with tears streaming down her face, arms flailing about as she yelled at Tom, who was still sitting on the bed.

He’d never seen her like this- with so much anger. What was even more disturbing was the fact that it was targeted so inwardly at herself.

“This isn’t your-“

“BE ANGRY TOM. For fuck sake… I-“ She choked out a sob “I murdered your kid! RAGE AT ME SHOUT AT ME it’s-it’s what I deserve.” It was insane but the look in her eye was one that seemed to Tom as though she needed him to hate her. As if in some fucked up narrative that was how the story should end.

He was not having one bit of it, tearing his eyes away from her maniacally shaking frail frame and instead to the corner of the ceiling. There was no precedent, no guidebook on how to deal with this, no past experiences to rely on. Unlike if Y/n had had a shit day, Tom knew then to subtly keep her within reach, to silently be there so she could literally and figuratively lean on him when she was ready; unlike when she was angry at ignorant politicians, he knew not to argue but prompt her to explain more, give a more reasoned argument so anger became thought through intellect; unlike when her grandma had died, when she just needed his contact, she needed his thumb rubbing against her hip, needed to sleep listening to the rhythmical thumping of his heart. None of these were applicable - his touch seemed to make her worse; his words seemed to anger her more; his mere presence didn’t seem to be doing an awful lot of good.

And yet, he couldn’t leave her even if it seemed to be the most logical option. Because she was wild, not herself and not logical and he, for the first time, was terrified of the danger she could be to herself.

Y/n stared at him, wide-eyed, waiting for him to react. She saw his Adam's apple bob up and down - readying his voice to scream at her. She saw his brown eyes collect a sheen of tears of rage - ready to bore holes into her skull as he degraded her to what she was worth. Which was very little. Then, as if in slow motion, his sharp jawline tilted back level and his eyes met her. He was frozen as if a statue, ready to rage at her.

“I love you both. So much and equally.”

Tom was pretty sure he could imagine Y/n’s runaway train in her head slam on the breaks. Her eyebrow twitched a little, as she stood completely still trying to analyse his words. Because to her, it didn’t make sense. So he took this moment of (at least surface level) calm to smoothly and slowly stand up, actions much like mirroring how someone approaches a spooked cat on the streets. Movements slow and preplanned, trying not to set off the fight or flight response on the women in front of him.

“That little baby you made… I didn’t know he ever existed till minutes ago but…but I know for a fact I love them.” He was trying to both figure out and decode his own emotions while explaining them in a way Y/n would accept and understand.

“I love them because… they are made by the love of my life. And that’s incredible and indescribable and just… just part of you, an extension of everything you and me together are… They would never have been perfect right?” Tom softly asked, though realistically knowing he wouldn’t get a response from a still motionless Y/n - besides a single tear, which appeared to have a mind of its own, escaping over her bottom lash lid. Tom watched it roll down her cheek as he composed his next words. “No they wouldn’t, no ones perfect… neither me nor you. But they would’ve been safe and have been loved. They were loved, you-you loved them right, even if you didn’t think you did or when you were terrified?” This time Y/n nodded minutely and Tom mirrored this, taking a small step a little closer to her. “And I did love them while they were in your stomach because they were part of you and I always always love you…. So they were so full of love okay? There's no rhyme or reason to why what happened happened but it’s… it’s definitely not because they were starved of love okay?” Y/n still didn’t have appeared to have released a single breath since Tom stood up, so he made a calculated and risked assessed movement to reach his hand out to touch her upper arm. In reaction, she sucked in a sharp shaky breath and then expelled it just as quickly - just like Tom knew she would. He physically felt a pull in his chest seeing the torment in her glassy eyes, now barely a rulers length from her.

“This, it’s an awful… awful situation. It’s sad and heartbreaking but I really need you to know that it changes nothing about how I feel about you. I need you to really understand how much I love-and always will-love you, and how I love them too.” Another tear escaped the same eye and Tom reached up with his other hand so his thumb could brush it away before the glassy orb met her pronounced jawline. To be honest he was quite grateful for the moment as he felt his voice getting a bit sticky in the back of his throat. She still wasn’t ready to speak yet and he was okay with that.

“We’ll never forget them and we will always love them, but I want to do that with you, as we get older together. They tie us closer and I refuse to disrespect them and force ourselves apart….a-assuming you don’t want to either?” Still cupping her cheek with his left hand Tom felt as well as saw her nod, this time more emphatically, her eyes darting between focusing on his left and then right eye - as though she was just checking they were saying the same things as his mouth.

“I’m sorry I-“ Finally feeling the connection between her brain and voice box, Y/n stated to jiltedly speak but was interrupted as Tom tentatively feathered his lips on hers. “You can be sorry for scaring the crap out of me today, you can be sorry for shouting and you can be sorry for not telling me at all… I don’t think you should, but if you’re staying sorry that’s all you can be sorry for.” He was barely speaking, more like just moving his lips against hers, yet they knew and understood each other completely Y/n got everything. So she sighed and repeated.

“I am sorry.”

“I’m sorry too. I’m sorry for you not having the faith to know I’d be happy, that was my fault. I’m sorry for not being here and not noticing when you were struggling on the phone. I’m sorry I crept up on you last night. But I don’t think there’s anything else for either of us to apologise for.”

“Okay” Y/n then pressed her lips firmly and almost desperately against his, feeling his warmth wrap around her, as he literally wrapped his arm around her waist, from where it had been on her upper arm. And really she was very incredibly desperate since it was very very incredibly clear now with him pressed against her that he might’ve been all she needed this whole time. Tom went with it for a couple of moments, but then broke them both apart - it sounds odd but he sort of felt like he was taking advantage of her.

“Darling you’re grieving. We can tackle this together …. But your grieving so we need to look after you first. And, and we’ll remember them and face this. But we gotta look out for each other too and…”

“I’m ill aren’t I?” He was oh-so relieved that she could see it too.

“I’m not a doctor but I think so… think we need to get you eating properly.”Y/n nodded and Tom kissed her forehead, pulling her completely against his chest - only exacerbating and exaggerating his awareness of how boney she felt. It hadn’t gone unnoticed how she’d spent the whole of Sam’s dinner pushing the meat round on her fork - rearranging it numerous times- whilst picking at a few carrots. “We can do whatever you feel will help you this evening but you need to tell me what you want to eat.”

You agreed but you still felt incredibly nauseous, so managed to put off the whole snacking thing in lieu of cuddling up on the sofa with Tom. You were still incredibly confused, feeling slightly detached from reality if you were completely honest. And you knew Tom was a good actor, his career kind of speaks for himself yet, all the same, the sheer truth in his eyes, voice, heart. It had you feeling safe. He no longer felt a flight risk and although you still couldn’t understand why he was forgiving you so easily, you believed he was. In the softest voice, he kept just saying ‘your grieving’ when you tried to challenge his logic- admittedly proving difficult in your scattered and hazy mind.

So you found yourself lying almost completely on top of his right side, your head tucked underneath his chin, a fluffy blanket weighing down on your back to keep you nice and toasty. Silently Tom had trailed his fingertips tentatively, under the hem of your t-shirt, round over the top of your hip to his stomach. Initially, it had felt like the worst and most alien feeling in the world- but he told you to relax and you listened; he told you to take deep breaths and you listened; he told you he loved you and you listened.

It must’ve been incredibly boring for him, I mean the TV wasn’t on neither was the radio and you knew his phone was in a pocket you were currently lying on. He didn’t complain though, he just let you lie there. Just sort of being with him.

At some point Tom realised she’d drifted off, after a long time fighting exhaustion, as though she were worried about what Tom would do once she finally gave in to sleep. It wasn’t surprising though, considering her energy intake from food for today was limited to a couple of roasted carrot slices, Tom knew her falling asleep on his chest was inevitable. The time it took had also given him enough time to fully digest and process the whole day as well as for deciding what he needed to do. So once she appeared fully out of Tom dared to worm his hand between their bodies and, with a few muted grunts of effort, phish his phone out his back pocket.

‘Hi, I know this asking a lot but would you mind getting Sam to make that pasta bake Y/n likes and dropping it round? Just she’s asleep but I don’t want to leave her alone but could do with getting something in her?’

‘Sams already on it and it doesn’t take long. I’ll be at yours in about an hour, shall I just let myself in?’

Tom was so grateful for his family, and for how they’d taken Y/n in to. Although she’d never admit it, her tougher than average upbringing always had her feeling a bit isolated- she never had ‘her’ people. The people who completely accepted her for who she was and never judged her. But as soon as he’d introduced her to them, it was as if she'd always been there. He endlessly appreciated the talks Nikki and you had, the way his Dad would come over when she was home alone to help with the simple stuff like knowing what lightbulb to buy for the lamp that had blinked out.

She had a place in his family.

Quite impressively, Sam had managed to bake the dish and then Nikki had managed to drive round before barely three-quarters of an hour had passed. Y/n was still completely out, so when he heard his mum unlock the door with her spare key, he felt able to wiggle out from under her without disturbing at all. He met Nikki in the kitchen, leaning against the door frame as he watched his mother fly about the kitchen - preheating the oven on a low temp to keep it warm while pulling plates and cutlery out the drawers so it was easier for Y/n and Tom when you woke up.

“Thanks for all this” Tom announced his presence with a soft sigh as he padded further into the kitchen. Nikki instinctively threw her arms round her eldest’s shoulders, squeezing him tightly.

“You guys okay?” Tom replied with a rather uncertain hum, before recounting the evening to his mum in a low voice - as though Y/n could be disturbed from the other side of the house. Nikki was in two frame of minds at this point, clearly heartbroken for the pair; but also incredibly proud of her son because it appeared he’d reacted and said exactly the right things.

“And you?… it must’ve been a shock?” To be quite honest, Tom hadn't thought about his own emotions yet, he’d put himself on the back foot for the time being.

“I mean it’s just a bit surreal… I don’t know I didn’t really have anything to do with it but - I just know that it's made me so certain that one day we will... you know?” Nikki hugged her son again with a little nod.

“Well I won’t outstay my welcome but I do want you to give this to Y/n too.”’ With those words, she fished a square box out of her handbag - it was about the size of two matchboxes and Tom raised his brows in curiosity. “She’ll understand when she sees it.”

And with a brisk parting gesture, Nikki left, Tom tucking the box into his side pocket before getting the pasta ready.

////////

Waking you with a gentle rub on your upper arm, you mewled a groan and pushed your head hard into the sofa below you in an attempt to alleviate the tension that instantly rippled through your skull. With hazy eyes, you blinked heavily, slowly focusing on the pale yet soft skin of the boy crouched opposite you.

“Hey darling, nice nap?” Nodding gradually, you still tried to completely recollect and piece together everything that had happened today “… you need some grub before we head upstairs yeh?” Again you nodded in compliance because at this point, even having been asleep for the last however long, you really didn’t have the energy for any conflict or disagreement. With a little prompt and poke from Tom, you reluctantly sat up, grasping the plate he offered to you while still rubbing one of your eyes. Busying himself with running back to the kitchen and grabbing his own plate and drink, you had time to look at the food and notice what was served to you. Tom plopped himself next to you and turned his head with a small smile, meeting a bemused and slightly suspicious look from you.

“You didn’t cook this…?” Really it wasn’t a question. You knew for a fact Tom was not and would never be a good chef. No judgement though, since neither were you, meaning the pair of you heavily relied on the ingenious invention of uber eats most evenings. Tom chuckled at your perceptiveness and admitted defeat without even trying to feign it.

“Nah mum dropped it round. Though I think Sam cooked it so a joint effort.”

“-didnt have to-“ You hated feeling like a burden. You hated people worrying because you just felt bad. Not worth the attention and effort. And Tom hated you feeling like that - naturally then, he had the need to shut you down instantly.

“No, you’re right. But they did.”

The air was filled with the quiet clinks of ceramic against the silver or the cutlery as you forced mouthful after mouthful down your throat. He was trying to be subtle, and yet you could feel Tom’s concerned glance checking you were eating. Truthully, you really didn’t feel like eating at all (even if it was Sam’s gorgeous tomato and sausage pasta bake - an odd combination but it worked). However, what more crucial in that moment was not disappointing your incredibly sweet boyfriend.

After having consumed as much as you physically could - which Tom deemed suitable with a small nod- he took your plates away and came back to sit beside you. More and more silence.

“Are-are we okay?” Whispering quietly you felt Tom’s body seize up into a rigid state, his face whipping round to look at you. He chose to reply with actions first reaching up so that his hands cupped your cheeks, he turned your head and then slowly leaned into to press his lips softly against yours. Once retracted, he pressed his forehead onto yours.

“Of course. I bloody love you and we’re going to get through this together.” His eyes were almost intimidating, with the seriousness he placed in his gaze - just to make sure you knew he meant it.

What you had done to deserve this boy you’d never know. But you were so incredibly grateful for him.

It gave you the confidence to take the first move this time, pressing your lips against his, holding for a moment before arching away - a small yet real smile on your face.

“Oh… nearly forgot” He muttered, leaning forward and grabbing a black leather box that you’d failed to notice had been placed on the coffee table. For the second time this evening, you were caught off guard and bemused as to how he’d sourced this item within the time frame. “It’s from mum… she wouldn’t tell me what it is but said you’d understand.”

His words had you biting your lip, in a weird way eager to see, purely because you knew Nikki understood you. And understood what you were going through. With one last look to Tom, you reached out and grabbed the box, thumb running over the sleek leather exterior. Once your thumb reached the bottom you flicked the lid up, unveiling a simple silver chained bracelet. It had five dainty silver charms hanging off it, they looked a bit like leaves but were kind of too small to tell. Moreover, it looked a little worn and preloved but it didn’t stop your eyes from watering when you saw at the bottom another charm, not yet attached that looked newer and pristine.

5 charms already attached and 1 new one.

“Oh” Tom muttered, also clearly very much intrigued, hovering off you left shoulder to see properly. ”That’s mums bracelet. She never really takes it off… that’s nice I guess?” He was obviously confused and it had you chuckling wetly, at how oblivious he could be. You did love your dear idiot.

5 charms for her 5 pregnancies… and now one for yours. One to wear forever, to love, to keep close to your heart.

They were tears of happiness, you were certain of, however, Tom was not at all sure why your flood gates opened again and was worried.

“You-you don’t have to take- I mean if you don’t like it don’t worry-“

“I love it” You breathed, looking up at him with glassy eyes before hastily picking up the extra charm and with shaky fingers clasping it onto the chain next to it. Tom perked up, if still bemused, wrapping his arm around your shoulder with a gentle squeeze.

“I don’t know how you convinced her to take it off, I’ve been trying to buy her a new bracelet for years but she’s always stuck with this old thing.”

“Because it’s beautiful!” You yelped in argument, making him laugh at how suddenly you’d switched into a happy and overexcited mood. Though don’t get me wrong, he was loving it.

“You Holland women I will never understand.” He whispered into your ear whilst you looked back at the chain, fixing it round your wrist. His comment made you freeze up, as you felt his grip tightening on your waist as he realised exactly what he might have just let slip out. “No I er- I don’t mean… but-but one day maybe if-if you wanted.”

“I love you” You sighed, kissing him once again to save him the embarrassment of watching his cheeks flush and ears pink up.

“I’m serious though… one day because… because you’re my family and when it happens our family will grow too.”

He was right. And you would, one day,

But you would never forget the two little lives remembered on this bracelet.

tagging people that might be interested (sorry if u don't care ahah): @wayfaring----stranger @vanillanestor @333dolans @thevelvetseries @whitewolf51

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #dad!tom #tom holland x reader #Tom Holland x y/n

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voiceswithoutlips · 4 years ago

Text

Calico - Chapter Three

— pairing: Hybrid ot7 x Human Reader (Female) — genre: hybrid AU , fluff, angst, slow burn (like real slow), eventual smut — word count: 1.8K — Rating: M — warnings: trauma, mention of past abuse.

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— chapter summary:

Y/N runs a animal shelter, Calico was built on a simple principle, to help those who were in need. What will Y/N do when her sanctuary is threatened by an unexpected hybrid?

— A/N: This is going to be a series, I’m just getting back to writing, so I’d really appreciate your input and feedback <3

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3.5 Ch. 4 Ch. 5 Ch. 6

Yeah, you fucking with some wet-ass pussy

Bring a bucket and a mop for this wet-ass pussy

I woke up to WAP blazing through the house at eight in the morning. That was the moment I knew I was going to kill Jason. Well, not literally, but there will be payback.

It was Monday, my favorite day of the week. Mondays have such a bad reputation for absolutely no reason. Personally, I liked a good Monday, it was the day when I organized the rest of my week. In case you are wondering, yes, I’m a nerd and the sight of stationary makes me drool. I got ready quickly, I had planned lunch with Song Hwa today, and after that DOBBY WAS FREE!

“JASON,” I screamed as I stumbled into the kitchen, “you are so dead.”

“Nah, you love me too much!” He laughed. How dare he!

“Who told you that? Just you wait, one of these days I’m going to disown you, you brat!”

Jungkook was sitting at the table eating cereal Jason must’ve gotten him. At least one of us was functional. I could barely take care of myself. Jungkook had gotten a bit more comfortable with us over the past week. The first two days he had stuck to his room but then I introduced him to our PS4 and he was hooked. The kid was a natural. He was wearing Jason’s clothes that were a size too small on him. His eyes widened at my murderous declaration. He was so cute.

“Don’t worry bunny, I won’t kill him ...yet,” I narrowed my eyes at Jason. I still couldn’t understand how we ended up becoming friends. Jason and I were always at each other’s throat when we were in college. Not a day went by without us going head to head, don’t even get me started on the mountain of assignments that we had to do as a punishment for disturbing the peace.

“I’m going out today, do you want to come to the town with me? We could get you some new clothes, and maybe some ice cream, we are running dangerously low,” I asked while sipping on some overly sweet coffee. I mean, I could buy clothes for him but first, I had no idea what his size was, and second I had no idea what his style was. I myself was a walking fashion disaster, if it was socially acceptable I’d wear pajamas every day, to every event but alas! This world is cruel to those who can’t match their clothes.

Jungkook nodded his approval and after our not-so-filling breakfast we left. It was a 2 hour ride to Seoul and on the way I pointed out landmarks in case Jungkook ever wanted to go out on his own. I made a mental note to teach him how to drive. The aircon was on full blast, it was summer, the grumpiest of all seasons.

I was wearing black sneakers, black jeans and a black hoodie like a goth pauper. Jungkook was wearing Jason’s oversized hoodie and jeans, a size smaller, that hugged his lower body like a second skin, I had to constantly remind myself to keep my eyes on the road. Hey, I hadn’t gotten laid in months, not that I’d ever look at Jungkook that way, he was just a kid, even if he had the body of a Greek god.

“Here we are, bunny, you gotta follow some safety guidelines okay?” I said as I parked in front of the mall.

He nodded. I wondered when he was going to start talking comfortably. Was he just shy or scared? Or both?

“First, don’t go anywhere alone, stay in my sight. I don’t want to lose you. And second, let’s hide your adorable ears,” I leaned over and pulled the hood over his head. He blushed, I almost cooed at him, why was he so cute. Be still my heart!

“If it gets too scary, just hold my hand, okay?” I said as we walked in through the doors. It was a good day to go shopping, there weren’t as many people on a weekday. “Go on, you can buy whatever you want, I’ll follow you around,” I grinned, his eyes were darting around from shop to shop.

“Can I?” he asked nervously.

“Of course honey,” I encouraged patting his head.

We spent the next two hours going from store to store. Jungkook was hesitant at first but after he realized that I had meant what I said he got excited. He’d take something off the shelf and run over to show me, he did that with every single thing that we bought. I was having the time of my life looking at him having fun, he was like a kid in a candy store. I wondered how excited he’d be if I actually took him to a candy store, I mentally added it to my to-do list.

He was still non-verbal, which was making me worry. Was he uncomfortable with talking? Was he nervous, scared? I kept wondering. The only times that he had spoken, his voice was small and unsure, as if the words he was saying held the weight of the world.

We ended up being late for the meeting with Song Hwa. The shopping bags barely fit in the trunk but somehow we achieved the unachievable. She had called me in to talk about Jungkook’s case, she had done some research and she insisted on talking in person. It worked for me though, that meant I could take the day off and relax.

Song Hwa’s office was in one of those big commercial complexes. We had her on retainer but she worked for one of the biggest law firms in the country. Jungkook grabbed my hand as soon as I opened the office door. He was sniffing the air furiously, fear on his face. I peeked through the little crack that I had opened. There was a man sitting across from my favorite lawyer. I had seen him around Song Hwa’s firm, he was one of her colleagues. I had no idea why Jungkook was afraid of him, he seemed perfectly normal to me, but then again I didn’t have superhuman abilities unlike my bunny.

His voice got closer and the door opened. As usual, my brain stopped working. I grabbed Jungkook’s neck and pulled his head on my shoulder to hide his face. Song Hwa and the man stepped out of the office and looked at us as if we had sprouted a fifth head. It must’ve been a sight, us holding hands and Jungkook’s face buried in my neck. I just looked at Song Hwa who made some excuse to the man in the beige suit to get him to leave. I was too embarrassed to register what she had said.

“Is he gone?” I whispered, before Song Hwa could answer, Jungkook nodded in my neck. I stepped away from him, still holding his hand. “I’m sorry, are you okay?” another nod. He was redder than a tomato, I guess he was twice as embarrassed.

“What the fuck?” Song Hwa’s expression matched her question. I sighed. I told her what happened as we sat down in her office.

“His name is Brian, he is a sleazebag and a coward. I wouldn’t worry about him,” Song Hwa reassured Jungkook. I didn’t like it, I could see how scared and uncomfortable Jungkook was. He hadn’t let go of my hand and he was clutching it as if his life depended on it. We ended up leaving her office and going to a nearby restaurant for lunch. It was well past noon and I was starving, I’d bet my Bleach collection that Jungkook was starving to. I was used to skipping meals and starving until I got a hunger headache but I couldn’t do that to him. I sucked at taking care of people.

“Here,” Song Hwa handed me a newspaper while I was stuffing some fries in my mouth. She had highlighted a small article, just a paragraph not worthy of front page news. It was about a stolen lab equipment from an Apexi lab. There was no mention of a hybrid.

“Please tell me this is good news,” I said through clenched teeth. Even though I knew it was terrible news, I could always hope. A multinational pharmaceutical company doesn’t just hide the fact that their lab animals were stolen along with a hybrid and their research destroyed. Unless it was something big.

“It's not and you know that,” Song Hwa had terrible bedside manners.

“Let’s talk about this tomorrow, today we feast!” I tried to sound enthusiastic but I failed terribly. Worrying about it would only ruin the rest of the day, not like I could do anything about it at the moment so I decided to ignore the screaming voice in my head and focus on the delicious meal that had suddenly turned bland.

Jungkook had fallen asleep on our way back. His head was resting on the back of the seat, eyes closed, soft lips slightly parted. Every time he scrunched his nose my heart made cooing noises. How was he even more adorable when he slept, I could watch him for hours. His hair was covering his forehead, I had forgotten about his haircut. I wondered if they were as soft as they looked. I lightly ran my fingers through his hair, yep, his hair was super soft. I felt like a stalker so I mentally shook myself and focused on the road.

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i-love-hobbies · 3 years ago

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(This isn't an anti-Eda, anti-Lilith or anti-Bump post. Just read this fully, please!)

Murder and violence are not ok!

This whole thing started literally after s1ep2 where Eda murdered a dude on screen.

What am I talking about?

"It's just a cartoon. Don't read too much into it."

I don't have a very strong opinion on this but I'm not a fan of normalizing murder. Also "Heroes that are genocidal maniacs, kill the villain cause he's awful." sounds extremely cringe.

And why are you reading a post that analyses a part of a cartoon right now?

"Death is normal on the Boiling isles, so that makes it ok."

Woah, woah! WHAT?

If everyone used that logic, slavery would still be a thing.

Just cause it's normalized in a culture doesn't mean it's less harmful or that everyone that comes from that culture does it.

It can be used to explain someone's actions, but not excuse them.

The ignorance of context.

1. Eda's murders

First I wanna point out that it was never emotional, it was all calculated. Remember when Tibbles scammed her, she didn't attack him back. None of her kills are revenge. She has always had something to win from them.

She has murdered two people, probably more, Adegast and Tibbles.

If she didn't kill Adegast. I can see this going two ways. He would starve to death, which means she put him out of his misery or he would slowly go back to full power which ties with Tibbles.

Batman kills the Joker.

No they are not as bad as the Joker but they would have continued trying to hurt her untill they got the idea of killing Willow and Gus in their sleep. TIBBLES KNEW THEIR ADDRESS!

Also if they were willing to do this. Who knows what else they have done to other people too. By doing this she has saved more lifes than she has taken (mostly kids).

Plus this willingness to kill is probably the reason Luz can go to school. Eda's enemies know that if they become an actual treat, things won't end well.

Her enemies are criminals. They are not stupid enough to think that she is helpless without magic. Especially now that she isn't running from the law.

- Now on to almost killing Amity in s1ep5 by making Luz cheat. That was messed up but not that badly.

Witches are harder to hurt, there were healers around who would help a Blight. She saw Amity use abomination so she knew mainly her traps were gonna be activated by a non-living thing.

Luz was going to be injured if that didn't happen. Amity was not in control of her strength and I don't think Lilith thought this trough. Though both sisters would have probably intervened when this got out of hand.

She also isn't the one to force Luz into the fight as many people have said. She has never on screen forced her opinion on someone else except in s1ep9 which was to protect her from school and changed in that episode. Luz just couldn't leave cause quitting ment never being able to perform magic.

Now I know that the right thing to do here was for her to try talk things through. I'm just saying it's not as bad as it seems.

2. Eda's scamming

To get my point across I'm gonna compare it to Wordlob.

Hers is the equivalent of you trying to buy gold and getting plastic. His is the equivalent of you're desperate for a cure and he promises to give it to you and then steals all your money and leaves you to die.

You're not going to try to buy gold when your desperate are you?

Scamming can take different forms and hers is the least harmful.

And consider this, what else can she do to put food on the table with her two adopted kids, Hooty and Owlbert. She can't find a legal job, cause that would be helping Belos, she'll die before she does that and she definitely knows ways to disguise herself but that puts her at risk as well.

3. Lilith's redemption arc still works

Yes, she did murder a bird in s1ep18, but the way it talked and acted. It seemed like it was mimicking speach.

Yes, she did almost kill a child, but she has made up for it probably in that week and a half that we didn't see considering this is the Boiling isles and everything is trying to kill you.

Plus, Eda only talked about the curse, considering "You hurt Luz, you cursed me!" She is not the person who would forget about her kid.

Bonus, she did make up for it on screen as well. In s2ep2 she saved King from Eda's experiments. In s2ep3 she saved Luz and King with her ice glyphs, when she could have just left, giving time for Eda to get them out of there. If Eda didn't show up Lilith would be dead.

4. Bump's jokes

- Dissecting Luz

I don't know why everyone talks about Bump and Amity trying to dissect Luz. They weren't certain if this was going to kill her. They weren't certain if she was alive. All they knew was that the lie will be broken if this would kill her.

Yes, they did try to catch her later on, but not to kill her. They wanted to make sense of what's going on and hopefully find her parents so she gets at the very least a talk on why she shouldn't do this.

Willow just overreacted which in return made Luz do the same.

- Bump's detention room

This room is a hypnosis one. Hypnosis is a job in real life. It can be dangerous but that can also be said about therapy if the therapist is bad. Depends on who does it.

"Impressive still alive!" This is a joke.

If a hypnotic session is stopped in the middle, you'd be too relaxed to be able to move. He was fine, he just needed some time.

- Bump's add

Everything that attacked Matt was alive. He probably did something to piss them off. But yeah Bump should have done something.

- Detention track

Guys knowing what he did for Willow in s1ep3, it's obvious that he was in a lot of stress. If he did what he did in that episode regularly. You just touch an orb and byeeeeee. Then this place should have been crowded.

Plus the wall with troublemakers' names had what six names and a portrait of lord calamity. Eda left school before three decades. And that's all we got.

He was probably not gonna keep them there even though he said so. He probably wasn't even planning that.

- Grom was very messed up. I have nothing to say except I wouldn't be surprised if the Emporer's coven forces this to be a thing and refuses to send actual adults, so the kids learn from a young age or whatever.

- Same with the photomemory class.

- "Bosha got away with murder. I can't say I approve, but at least she's trying new things."

This was a joke. Bosha's parents definitely have influence. His hands are tied like usual so he has learned to make jokes out of it. Plus since when are principals responsible for what happens out of school grounds.

5. The bat queen

She is a protector of palismans and I don't think she started to kill until the government was against her (I'm talking about her cave having bones all over it.)

I can't say it's completely justified like I did with Eda. But I don't see a way out of it where palisman wouldn't be extinct.

Now let's see our vilians' behaviour

1. Adegast

He was trying to kill Eda for his business by using a child as a bait.

2. Tibbles

He almost murdered four children so his stand is revenged.

3. Piniate

Is keeping people captive and literally is making them helpless as a punishment for not writing a book.

4. Demon hunters

They were gonna trow kids off a cliff. I'm not sure why actually.

5. The cat ladies

They were kidnapping children for their cafe.

6. The "coven" inspecture

She was stealing all the magic from none other than kids for power.

7. Wordlob

Who knows how many people have died, lost their jobs and so one, cause of his scams. All for money.

8. Warden wrath

He cut Eda's head so she goes out with him. Captures people for nothing.

9. Odalia and Alador

Alador was not stopping Odalia from trying to kill Luz. In their mind this was gonna help in combination with their child abuse, with their daughter helping their business. Everything they have done for now is for their business.

They backed up when Alador saw an opportunity for THEIR BUSINESS.

10. Kikimora

She tried to murder a child, cause of jealousy. Uses her authority to make the system even worse, cause how dare them look in her direction.

11. Belos

Is abusing a child and abused Lilith. Is the reason that palisman are getting extinct. Wild magic= death sentence. Basically created a horrible authority system that has created a lot of suffering and who knows how many it has killed. Probably all for power, though we don't know completely.

#toh #the owl house #toh eda #eda clawthorne #eda the owl lady #edalyn clawthorne #the owl lady #toh lilith #lilith clawthorne #toh bump #toh bat queen #toh vilians #toh kikimora #toh belos #emporer belos #toh odalia #toh alador #toh golden guard #toh hunter

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demonslayedher · 4 years ago

Note

I'm glad you reactivated the questions, here are some flowers for you: 💐 Seriously speaking I'm sorry that because of a question I asked you a few weeks ago you watched a series of videos of psychopaths 🥲It made me laugh at first but then I felt guilty 💔 it's all Muzan's fault for leaving us all with curiosity (imagine his parents' reaction once they realized there was something wrong with him even as a human)

Yay, flowers (which I shall kill with my black thumb)! And no, no, it’s fine, I had hoped it came off funny! I like listening to stuff like that while I draw anyway because I’m a nerd anyway and I found it very interesting.

Speaking of being a nerd, you have innocuously unlocked the following essay about Heian period nobility and wisteria flowers: There is nothing to state so in canon, but I find it highly reasonable to say Muzan might had been of the very powerful Fujiwara clan. Step inside my office, Anon.

Okay. So. The Heian period, simply put, was a time of cultural flourishing and beautiful pastimes, the origins of a lot of Japanese style aesthetics, and a romantic courtly like of romancing everybody else in the court. This is assuming, of course, that you were at the very, very, very, very top of society. Otherwise, the vast majority of people were poor and sick and starving and ew, in young Muzan’s world, we do not wish to associate with that. In the Heian court, Kyoto basically is the whole cultural world. Even though there were other cities that could rival Kyoto, the emperor was there, so it was essentially the cultural center of the country. The nobles who lived there got money from owning land in far-flung provinces, but actually having to live in those provinces? What a drag! Having to live away from Kyoto for work, even if it wasn’t an official banishment, often felt like a punishment to the nobles and their families who were used to the social scene at court. And, like affluent courts around the world throughout history, understanding all the intricacies of style and “Heian Rumors” was key to having social clout, and popularity was power. And yeah, nobles would be vicious to each other. While clan dynamics and history are complex and not something I’m getting into here (I don’t consider myself well-versed in it enough), the Fujiwara clan is a BIG DEAL. Basically, in Heian times, children were typically raised in their mother’s home, thereby heavily influenced by their mother’s clan, so besides a young man’s parents, his in-laws also would had been hugely influential in his life, as they will have a long-felt influence on his progeny. The Emperors typically married Fujiwara daughters. This, in addition to other positions of influence of the Fujiwara clan members usually held with influence over the Emperor, means that politically, there was no messing with them. Now, just because I say Muzan might had been a Fujiwara clan member, I don’t necessarily mean a member of the main branch of the family. Often, due to inheritance management, different branches of various noble clans might be given different surnames. The Fujiwara clan does have different branches, some of which did go one to have close ties with the imperial family even after the fall of their power at the end of the Heian period and all the way through the Taisho, and some branches carry some impressive family legacies but otherwise live like normal or high-class common folk in modern-day. (I know one such Ojousama from a renamed Fujiwara branch; she’s a sweetheart and never brings it up herself but every time I hear other people say things about her family, I’m like, dang.) We can venture from Muzan’s likely expensive medical treatment, multiple marriages (meaning other clans sought to be connected with his family even by marrying their daughters to a sick man), and even preparation for cremation as a baby that he was of a very, very high status.

Being the sick son of a prominent family may have warped his personality in multiple ways: first, he was probably already used to a culture of popularity equated political power. We see in Muzan’s dealings with humans in the Taisho period that he can be exceedingly charming to get what he wants (a psychopath trait, haha), so he was probably pretty aware of the complex ways of socialites in the court. But, even being aware of that, it probably frustrated him to no end that he was too sick to take part in the social pastimes where he’d gain clout. It’s also possible that he was a bit of a bargain husband for his wives’ families who were seeking to a make ties with his family, as they must not had been politically useful enough to be married off to other powerful matches. This may be some of why he was so ruthless to them, for he never saw them as useful to him in the first place. This probably got a bit worse once he became a demon. Now to be lewd, but he probably got more vigorous in his pursuit of more powerful lovers, and knew how to slay the women’s hearts as he liked (you know, popular Heian pastime, everybody had lots of lovers, it was the norm, though political marriages and legitimate children were still important). That new sense of power probably went to his head. But, ultimately, he must had been limited in clout since he couldn’t take part in any daytime activities, thereby limiting his access to more powerful spheres of influence. His reputation from having grown up sickly must had followed him too. It’s anyone’s guess how much affection his parents had for him and how happy they were about his health at first, and if and when they might had noticed his changes. He was a full-fledged adult by the time he turned into a demon, so who knows how closely they even associated with him. They likely had healthier children who they devoted more care and attention to, and invested more family resources in while assuming Muzan would probably die young.

Who knows what the final straw was in Muzan leaving court? Was it frustration at not being able to walk in daylight that made him flee to the Kanto area in pursuit of the blue spider lily (from near where the doctor lived) long before Kanto became politically affluent? Or was it the rumors at court about how he didn’t age, and that he was eating people?

Of note, a lot of the early legends of demons in Japanese culture take place in the Heian period.

In his book “Japanese History of Demon Slayers,” retired Shizuoka University professor Tetsuo Owada capitalized on the success of Kimetsu no Yaiba to dive into a lot of ties between the series and what it may pay homage to throughout Japanese history and culture. While this was published last September and a handful of his theories have been disproven by the second fanbook published last February, and while I think a lot of his theories are stretching a little too far to make strong connections, it’s still deeply, deeply interesting stuff. He goes into some specific comparisons of demons, like Minamoto-no-Raiko and his posse of four big bad warriors taking on the Tsuchigumo (giant spider demon) terrorizing the mountains north of Kyoto harkening to the case of Rui’s family (and, ding ding ding, this was the primary focus of the official Kabuki/Kimetsu crossover last November), as well as takes little questions left in canon and dives into them a bit deeper. One such question is, why were wisteria lethal to demons? According to Prof. Owada’s research, there is no historical basis for this. Some of the talk online is that: 1. Wisteria are in fact poisonous, and consuming too much of them would cause vomiting and diarrhea (though I’ve also seen people make jam out of them because of the fragrance, so, like???) 2. Beans are thrown around at Setsubun to ward off demons (like so, Feat. Muzan and Kimetsu Beans), and wisteria are of the bean family 3. Wisteria like sunlight, so perhaps like Nichirin, they soak up some of the sun’s properties that are lethal to demons 4. In the language of flowers (Hanakotoba), wisteria symbolize kindness, welcomeness, refusing to leave someone’s side, being drunk with love, being straightforward and truthful, not losing the humanity in one’s heart, thereby containing a lot of meaning contrary to the conduct of demons Interesting, but some of its kind of a stretch. While still finding it a stretch to apply it to wisteria being poisonous to demons, Prof. Owada goes on to say that since ancient times, while the wisteria has some negative connotations of how it was sometimes written with characters meaning “doesn’t heal” (不治) and growing downward with smaller and smaller flowers like symbolize the slow downfall of a family line, it conversely also carries positive connotations of longevity and flourishing family due to the fact that its vines grow upward.

Now, you might picked up at some point that the Japanese word for wisteria is “fuji.” Not to be confused with Mt. Fuji (that’s written differently), it IS the same fuji as in “Fujiwara”: 藤.

Prof. Owada goes on to explore the association with the use of Wisteria crests in Kimetsu no Yaiba, especially on the houses of supporters of the Demon Slayer Corp. His recurring thesis is that the pandemic is partly responsible for Kimetsu no Yaiba’s popularity since demon legends have long since had origins in epidemics, and he supposes the Wisteria crest has a protective effect on the houses, similar to a talisman used in a lot of real life rituals for warding off illness and then often displays in or on the entries of houses to protect the family every year (I have one such item gifted to me, it stays by my doorway, along with a couple sticks of charcoal (but the culture of charcoal is a post for some other day)). The talisman is in reference to a god of Hindu/Chinese origins being treated with hospitality by the So clan, so although other families perished in disaster/disease, he promised to always protect the So clan descendants, so the talisman says “Descendants of the So Clan” so that any household may try to claim that divine protection. The gratitude-exchange of hospitality and protection and sure sounds familiar! Prof. Owada isn’t done yet. While the crest design used in Kimetsu no Yaiba isn’t an actual family crest in in real life, there are lots and lots and lots of family crests that use a wisteria design and have the character for “wisteria” in the name. Any time you hear “—tou”, like Satou, Saitou, or even Gotou, you can typically assume it’s 藤. It’s very common nowadays, but the first family to be granted the use of this name was the Fujiwara clan, when one of the pre-Heian and very powerful emperors granted their clan head this surname, which was a major honor, and it marked the start of the Fujiwara clan’s political dominance (there was already influence leading up to this, but meh, we like clear-cut stuff to simply centuries of history, don’t we?). Furthermore, although we often think of the Fujiwara clan for their influence at court, and we might think of the Minamoto clan for warrior heroes who fought demons, Prof. Owada concludes his argument of wisteria’s protective influence by pointed out a long list of Heian period Fujiwara warriors who also were the heroes of demon slaying legends, stating that their name has also long been tied with demon slayer culture. SO!!! Let me go on with my theory here. Muzan is from the same family line as Ubuyashiki. At some point (I assume after Muzan is long gone from Kyoto), the family is told while their children keep dying, and they accept their mission to bring an end to Kibutsuji Muzan and clear this curse on their family line. My thought is that their ancestor was a full blood sibling of Muzan, one whom was more invested in than sickly Muzan. While perhaps already an off-shoot of the Fujiwara Clan and thereby not entitled to the same sorts of inheritance, they probably maintained close ties with them. But, as it was already not direct by that time, the other Fujiwara clan branches were not affected by this curse. To further spare the clan the effects of this curse, this was probably when that sickly branch took the name Ubuyashiki. (And yes, I have things to say about this name and its possible mythological origins which I find a highly, highly interesting connection. Prof. Owada supposes it is tied with Izumo Taisha Grand Shrine and that is why there are nine pillars, but as much as I love Izumo Taisha and its giant pillars I base my argument in separate Shinto (but also Izumo!) mythology and accept that there are not always supposed to be nine Pillars specifically and Gotouge simply chose that number based on the number of strokes in the kanji for ‘Hashira’ (柱) BUT I DIGRESS). So, the Ubuyashiki Clan is it’s own thing, but is sort of like a cousin to the other Fujiwara branches and thereby continues to enjoy Fujiwara support throughout the Heian period, like some of the Fujiwara warriors going out there and slaying some of Muzan’s early demon experiments, and using their influence to bring in other warriors to the demon slaying cause (pet

theory: Genpei War warrior Kumagai Naozane was a member of the proto-Corp and using Kasugai-garasu was in practice since at least late Heian period). While the Ubuyashiki Clan probably already their own inherited land (and funds that came from it), throughout their history, their cousin clans might also have provided financial support to the Ubuyashiki Clan. But, they probably distanced themselves from the clan due to the curse and not wanting to be tainted. When you bring back in the wisteria associations this puts the contrary associations with a flourishing and dying family line in a new light. Furthermore, the “not healing” way of writing “fuji” also means a lot more in the context of Muzan’s, and later the Ubuyashiki clan’s illness.

#KnY nerdery #Kny fandom theories and meta #kibutsuji muzan #ubuyashiki kagaya #Kimetsu no Yaiba #Demon Slayer

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descentivity · 3 years ago

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Depression, Trauma, (and Most Importantly,) My Thoughts on Hello Charlotte EP1 & 2

Eating has been difficult for me for as long as I remember. It started off as an aversion to food, in favour of spending my time more efficiently on what my dumb little mind viewed as more important: Homework, video games.

Over time, it turned into anorexia. I had already gotten used to eating just under 500 calories a day, and my depression took my poor habits and twisted them into a cowardly and slow attempt at suicide.

On my road to recovery, I’ve found that years of poor eating choices have lead to my body struggling to process food. I have to eat at a painstakingly slow pace lest my stomach turns against me, and the smell of food is sometimes enough to diminish my appetite altogether. My bowel movements are, for lack of a better word, a shitshow.

This brings me to today, the 10th of August, 2021. 6 or so years of barely eating enough to survive later, I’m setting the world record for the slowest consumption of a fillet o’ fish in the history of mankind.

In my absolute boredom and unfathomable stomach pain, ManlyBadassHero’s playthrough of some random horror game (I can’t remember the name) appears in my YouTube recommended, and I’m reminded of a horror game I bought on sale on Steam, the last of a trilogy. In all honesty, I only bought the game because it was dirt cheap and one of my sisters’ names is Charlotte. I was too horrified at the time to process the story nor play the previous two games, so I did a quick achievement run and left it at that. I was certainly very confused as I had no idea who any of the characters or what any of the concepts were, but the gore had me too mortified to go and find out myself.

A year later, I’m looking the trilogy up on ManlyBadassHero’s YouTube channel, and decide to start from the beginning of his Hello Charlotte journey, in 2016.

Hello Charlotte EP1

I’m going to be completely honest with you, the first game really didn’t resonate with me too well. It was a cute, quirky, RPG Maker horror game, with two loveable main characters and an interesting world. However, with context from the third game, the events felt too self-isolated and inconsequential. Felix and Charlotte are in a little self-contained TV world created by a fictional race called Pythia - creatures with 3 or 4 eyes that can create miniature dimensions, once brought into a hivemind by an “Oracle,” which seems to be some sort of god. They all seem to be falling apart and have taken a horrific turn as most of the Pythia have been “executed,” and those who haven’t have either gone mad or into hiding in their own bubbles of (albeit temporary) safety.

The ending of the game is somewhat misleading, too. Once Charlotte and Felix escape the TV world by having Charlotte merge with the Oracle itself, the game almost plays off the previous events like they were all a story made up by a young and imaginative Charlotte. Did they happen at all? Is she a reliable narrator or point of view to begin with? (Spoiler alert, she is not.) The explanation for it all seems to be that Charlotte herself is a schizophrenic, though the legitimacy of this is brought into question in the third game, which I will talk about later. Altogether, the game didn’t bring out many strong emotions in me, and I was starting to zone out as I moved on to the second game’s playthrough.

Hello Charlotte EP2

What struck me as odd in the second game is that while the first game seemed to bring Charlotte out of her own strange, black-and-white world and back into reality, we’ve found out that she’s right back where we started last game. A black-and-white world, inhabited by her imaginary friends. Aliens, gods, and the like. However, Charlotte’s seemingly made-up world feels more alive this time. I’m not sure if this is the consequence of the game developer improving their skills or an intentional detail, but even more characters are introduced, and previously shallow tenants of Charlotte’s home are given more depth. The hazmat-suit wearing aliens have faces, personalities and whole backstories attached to them, now. Charlotte has a best friend at school named Anri, who has a obsessive crush on her. She’s friends with a bullying victim named C with horrible germaphobia, who has almost identical struggles to her (more on those struggles later.)

What also surprised me is the continuity between the first and second game. For some reason, I thought that this Charlotte would be starting from scratch, completely oblivious to the fate of the first game’s iteration. However, this concept only seems to be used in the third game, so I guess I was simply mislead. This game, in fact, takes place 3 years after the first, and the Oracle still lives on within Charlotte’s conscious. However, it’s a dying god, on its last leg. It had already been dying during the time of the last few Pythia, but it had used the last of its strength to free Felix and Charlotte from their world. As the Oracle’s health declines, so does Charlotte’s mortal body.

Unlike the first game, most of the themes in this game hit way too close to home. The feeling of second-hand helplessness when someone you barely knew ends their own life. Anri’s obsessive and outright manipulative lesbian crush on Charlotte, bordering on bullying. The schooltime harrassment and trauma Charlotte underwent. The fear and dangers of social interaction. Feeling unlawfully punished by your school teachers for seemingly nothing at all. Depression, self harm, and the primal urge to escape from it. Getting roped into others’ mental health, until both of your issues converge into a disgusting amalgamation of the need but severe lack of therapy and a break from it all. Delusions of what could’ve been and the possible, yet near impossible future ahead. Looking back on everything you’ve ever done and regretting every second of it.

While I ticked off the trauma presented to me on a silver platter in the form of a fucking RPG Maker game like a twisted bucket list, I found myself relating more and more to not only Charlotte, but the students around her. Scarlett, whose life was so perfect that nobody had even thought about her possible mental issues until it was far too late. Anri, who would lay down her life for a girl who simply doesn’t feel the same way. C, who desperately wanted to escape from reality by any means possible.

An interesting fact about Hello Charlotte is that there are numerous omnipotent beings amongst its cast. They aren’t shy about providing very in-depth character analysis to Charlotte, and in turn, to the puppeteer (I suppose now is a good time to inform those who are unfamiliar with the series that the puppeteer refers to a species, character, and the player, all at once. Charlotte has a puppeteer controlling her by the name of Seth. You are/are controlling Seth as the player. Capiche? Capiche.)

What this meant for me watching Manly’s playthrough was the feeling of two gods (in this game, at least) peering right into my soul, analysing characters that reflected my exact experiences and even my personality during my school days. I learned and realised things about myself that I simply hadn’t known before. Just like Charlotte, I’m simply looking for direction in life, and I’m too afraid to act without instructions. I found myself bullied, manipulated and abandoned by someone who simply wanted my affections, and only learned to miss them when they were gone. Like Anri, my desperation for love and approval from an individual in turn lead to anger and resentment for them. Like both Charlotte and C, I eventually turned to hurting myself to make all the pain go away, refusing help from others and developing a shell of false optimism and naivety to forget about the damage I had dealt to my body, personality and relationships.

As much as I hate to admit it on my little obscure Tumblr blog with 0 followers and 0 traction, I still struggle with these things. I have no direction in life, and wander aimlessly, hoping for one of my offshot attempts at content creation to take off. I find myself missing the girl who emotionally abused me to hell and back every day. I resent another girl for never feeling the same way I felt about her. I still don’t take care of myself, and spend every day in a state of denial about my physical decline and sickliness. I’m so incompetent emotionally that I spend days ignoring my own boyfriend, starving him of the proper relationship that he deserves all because of how broken, fragmented and distant my own mind is.

Hello Charlotte EP2 has four endings. All four of them, in my eyes, are bad.

In the first, C and Charlotte overdose together, leaving their mortal realm to become gods. They choose to ignore and forget the pains of their mortal lives, and live the rest of their godly lives in ignorant bliss. Do I want to forget about my depression and trauma? Learn nothing, and forget about everything that made me who I am today? Or worse even, do I dare take the plunge into “godhood,” and leave this mortal plane to end my suffering altogether?

In the second, Charlotte discovers that C isn’t who she thinks he is, and she finds him without a soul. Alive, but empty. Charlotte could not save him. Consumed by grief, she ascends and becomes a god, consuming the entire world around her. After all is said and done, she realizes her mistake. All of her friends are gone, C is still empty and unresponsive, and now she is alone. Sometimes, I feel as though I’ve already gone through this ending, many times over. Countless times I’ve let my depression become all-consuming and take over my life. I’ve pushed so many people away and hurt so many more, and for what? I have nothing to gain from every fit of depression, and the consequences make it seem nothing more but a selfish attempt to make myself feel better.

In the third, Charlotte is the only one who dies. In her last moments, the Oracle comforts her, like a mother cradling her child. They embrace, and say goodbye to each other, as Charlotte’s own life was the only thing keeping the dying god alive. At this point, I’ve started to draw parallels between the Oracle and depression. Depression isn’t always a horrible thing that beats you down and keeps you from being truly happy. Sometimes, wallowing in my own sadness and depression would be the only thing that keeps you sane, stable, and calm. The feeling of hopelessness really is bittersweet, and in desperate times, goes hand-in-hand with acceptance of one’s circumstance. Oftentimes, I find that this is the most realistic way I’ll go out. One day, I may just accept depression, and succomb to it. There may not be a struggle at all. Rather, a quiet, submissive hum, which will fade away into silence.

In the fourth and final ending, Charlotte and C die alongside each other. After her death, Charlotte confronts the Oracle, and wishes to save everyone, and for everyone to be unhappy. Of course, this is where the classic saying: “Be careful what you wish for” comes in. Because of her wish, everyone’s soul, what makes them individual and unique, is erased. After all, no one can suffer if they cannot think at all. In some ways, emptiness is pure bliss. This once again goes back to the bittersweetness of depression. The sheer emptiness it may bring on, at times, is bliss. Feeling nothing isn’t always a bad thing. It’s a way to cope with the horrors of the world. To remember nothing at all is such a tempting yet unattainable solution that I can’t say I haven’t longed for in the near or distant past. Charlotte, of course, is distraught that her friends are all gone, their identities and souls lost forever. Following this, she has one request to make of another god, the observer. She wishes to be killed, as all of her actions have lead to nothing but pain for others and herself. The observer, however, refuses this offer. Instead, he comforts her and takes her hand. They go on a journey together. He suggests that one day, she’ll learn to control her power, and she can recreate the world and her friends. As they leave, Charlotte reflects on her hopes and dreams for the journey. She hopes to learn to be kind, and not hurt others. She wants to change her ways, and become an honest, good person. Charlotte, slowly but surely, is on the road to recovery.

Putting the unsettling sequel to this game aside, maybe I could learn a little bit from Charlotte.

#tw suicide #tw depression #tw anorexia #tw self harm #disordered eating tw #hello charlotte #charlotte wiltshire #anri warhol #scarlett eyler #charles eyler #indie horror #review

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storysofmyown · 4 years ago

Note

can u do a hc on how the brothers n u would b in quarantine? ik there would b no quarantine in devildom but yk dhsjsjjs-

Of course! And as someone who has been in quarantine since almost February, this was a little too real XD

Lucifer:

Oh? There's a quarantine? Time to be productive!

He goes full mother mode and starts cleaning the whole house while also making the brothers clean their rooms and help him up.

He doesn't use the "does this spark joy?" Methods, nah, he uses the "if it's on the ground it's getting thrown out"

That's how Levi almost lost one of figurines. Poor boy dove on the floor to save it a still has the scrap

Besides cleaning, Lucifer also spent most of his time doing the paperwork he would usually do at night.

This man went in strong and finished all the paperwork in 2 weeks and so...he was forced to spend time with his brothers.

Worst/best months of his life. He has never been so close with his brothers...and he absolutely hates it-

On the bright side, he has discovered new ways to punish his brothers in different, inventive ways. (RIP Mammon)

Mammon:

While some may think he would be from the ones that have the hardest time, he actually suffered from it the first few weeks and then he just...grew uses to it?

Tho, Lucifer did give him a hard time with his room. Was his floor always this color? Or did it change when you mopped it?

Also, how the hell was there loose change in his room?! How the hell did he not know about it!?

After that he offered to help clean the others room just so he could snatch any loose change they had.

Tho, the part that most bothered him of being quarantined was not being able to go out and go to casinos or get to his usual schemes

But then, he found a couple of online games that fueled his addiction to gamble

"I mean! It's a gambling game, with all the real life stuff...but get this! You don't actually have to spend or lose any money! Isn't that great?!"

"You do realize that also means you don't make any money...right?"

"...what-"

Leviathan:

This boy didn't even know there was a quarantine the whole time.

He thought it was weird how everyone was always home all of a sudden but he had many events, games, animes and mangas to care for to ask his brothers why they were at the house all the time.

This whole thing did make him grow closer to his brothers tho. Since, he is basically the king of isolation (Elsa who? Nah, Levi) all the others kept constantly bugging him and asking him for recommendations of games and even shows to watch.

He has like 70 new records on his games and didn't even bat an eye when Lucifer told him they would be taking online classes. His response was just “Nice, less people!”

Which got a whine out of Asmo who is so touch starved

The day Lucifer announced the quarantine was over everyone was happy except for Levi who just ???

“There was a quarantine going on?”

“You are a useless otaku, you know that-”

“SHUT UP MAMMON”

Satan:

This man went into quarantine with a whole ass library worth of unread books and he came out being able to recite them like old poetry, learned 6 languages (without including morse code), is basically a chef at this point, has a whole ass youtube channel to debunking stupid theories he saw on the internet and knows how to play violin, piano, and the flute.

He wasted zero seconds being stuck in that house. He used them all to gain knowledge.

He even started to read some mangas from levi just because he had read ALL of his books at least twice and he wouldnt be getting any new because he couldn't leave to go to the library.

Tho, his and Lucifer’s relationship got better...and worse at the same time.

The two spent so much time stranded with one another they are physically sick of seeing the others face. Satan literally put a spell on Lucifer so that he wouldn't be able to see him for a whole day. He was grounded an entire month.

Being grounded from the stuff he liked to do ended up making him have to play along with his brothers ideas. Which only gave Lucifer more headache. Satan 1 - Lucifer 0.

Asmo:

“DEAR LORD THIS TORTURE!”

“It hasn't even been 3 days-”

“AND YET I HAVE LOST SUBS, BEEL! This is all because the lightning in this house is LESS than ideal for my beautiful skin!”

This poor demon has never been as touch starved as he is during the whole process.

He is constantly whining about how he just wants to be hugged and held. It makes all the brothers sick of hi by the third day. Tho, he does manage to get some hugs a day from them! Even from Levi the reclusive.

Also, you KNOW this man made himself an only fans account.

He got so fucking popular on it even Diavolo heard of it...which obviously meant Lucifer found out and close the account.

“Eeeeeh?! But what about my fans?! They cant possibly survive this quarantine without my precious face!”

“I’m sure they will manage.”

“You are so mean! Where am i going to get from the attention and compliments I deserve?”

“You literally compliment yourself every 2 seconds in front of the mirror.”

“It’s not the same, Belphegor!”

Also, this boy did so many g=face masks and shit he basically came out shinning-

Beel:

This poor boy gets in trouble so much. But he cant help himself! he gets hungry and being able to just...get up and go into the kitchen is a possibility he is not about to throw away!

Like! How is he supposed to resist?!

Besides! It was Lucifer’s fault for buying a month worth of groceries knowing Beel would be around. They didn't last an hour.

On the other hand, has actually been working out quite a lot.

And! Boy even managed to convince Levi to work out with him as well!

Granted, Leviathan didn't make it 10 minutes in, but it was fun for Beel to instruct his brother! : D

Beel actually would be one of the less that suffered during the whole time. Yes he missed going out and tasting new restaurants. But he loves his family and enjoys spending time with them quite a bit!

Belphegor:

He literally slept trough the whole thing.

The day it started he looked at Lucifer and went “Welp, i’m going to hibernate. Wake me up when its over.”

Lucifer only rolled his eyes...but almost a week later he realized that Belphegor was being serious about not waking up at all-

So, Beel was instructed to wake him up.

He was in a bad mood for being woken up, and groggy the rest of the day. But after that, he started to spend a lot of time with both Asmodeus and Leviathan playing games.

He even managed to win against Levi once!

Also, Belphegor spent the whole time procrastinating on doing any chores Lucifer gave him. Clean his room? Good luck waking him up. Do the laundry? Awe, too bad Beel ate the detergent. Help Satan on the kitchen? He almost burned Mammon in the process because he feel asleep watching over boiling water.

Bonus on one of my Mc’s just because I can

During this whole thing I can see my Mc, Amaria,driving Satan crazy! She wouldn't leave his side at all XD. She would also be constantly helping Mammon, Belphie, and Satan on their pranks on Lucifer

Hope y’all enjoyed those little headcanons! I dont know if this is exactly what you wanted but I had fun with it! Stay safe people!

#obey me #obey me!#obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years ago

Text

Just Fine

Prompts: I just finished your Merlin fic Not Bad, and was wondering if we could have something of a sequel to it, if you're willing? Thank you either way! - anon

hi omg i absolute love your works on ao3, you're such a talented writer! i'm in love with your touch starved! merlin fic on ao3 and if you're still writing merlin fics and if you wanted to write it i would love to see a second part! (i've never used tumblr before so i don't know if this is where you even take promps/ requests but i figured i had to try, i love your works so much!) - anon

So many people asked for a part 2 so now we have a part 2 yay

Read on Ao3 Part 1

Warnings: this chapter is fluff all the way down, folks

Pairings: platonic merlin & everybody, can be merthur if you want I don't care

Word Count: 4729

Healing isn't supposed to be easy, but maybe the others can help make it easier.

He did say he was going to be pulling Merlin into his bed to cuddle with him in the mornings.

The sunlight is a menace, Arthur’s sleep-slack brain decides one day as it slices knife-like over his eyes through a slit in the curtains. He furrows his brow and turns, nuzzling his face into his pillow and doing his very best to ignore the fact that it’s morning now which means he’ll have to get up and do things. He’s royalty, he shouldn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to.

…well, okay, maybe that’s not true.

Arthur muffles a snort into his pillow.

That should show how much Merlin’s been rubbing off on him since he came to Camelot, Arthur before Merlin would’ve huffed in that arrogant prat way—he’s not too proud to admit he has his moments—and said that he gets to decide what he wants to do, no one else. Arthur after Merlin knows that he’s his people’s servant as much as they are his. He may not have had the words to express it before Merlin but he’s always felt that way. Seeing someone so blatantly defy the status quo—and by extension, Uther—helped bring that out of him.

See? This is why he’s tired and deserves more sleep. He’s already waxing poetic about Merlin. He turns over in bed again and resolves to try and get a little more sleep.

Of course, as soon as his head hits that side of the pillow, the door opens, and in come Merlin’s footsteps.

The curtains are pulled open and Arthur winces, the light beaming onto the back of his head. Merlin putters around, probably setting up breakfast going by the smell of sausages, and then there’s a tug on his blanket.

“No,” he mumbles, holding it closer to his face, “lemme sleep.”

“You have to get up, Arthur,” comes Merlin’s amused snort, “you’ve got a meeting with Leon in a few hours.”

Arthur grumbles, refusing to open his eyes. “Then why can’t I sleep until then?”

“Because if I don’t get you up now, you won’t have enough time to wake up properly.”

“But it’s just Leon!”

“Yes, and you know he has this annoying habit of looking pristine even when he’s covered in mud.”

This is true. Arthur sighs, cracking his eyes open, and is immediately greeted by a wonderful sight.

Merlin, his Merlin, is standing in the sunlight.

It felt like a knife on Arthur’s face, but on Merlin, it looks like a cloak. A cape. Something to be worn with pride. He glows, that’s the only way to describe it. Even his eyes are shining.

How can anyone believe that Merlin isn’t magic?

…yeah, he must be really tired.

“Arthur,” Merlin calls, and only then does Arthur realize he must’ve called his name a few times, “you okay?”

Arthur nods dumbly, still grinning dopily up at Merlin. Merlin looks warm. Warm Merlin. Merlin should be warm. Warmth is good for Merlin.

Something cold ripples through his chest as he remembers how cold Merlin was the first day he let them hug him.

Merlin shouldn’t be cold.

“Arthur?” A gentle tap on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Arthur blinks and holds his arms out. “C’mere.”

Now it’s Merlin’s turn to blink. “What?”

“Come here,” he insists, reaching for Merlin, “just come here.”

Merlin’s face flushes an adorable red. “Arthur, I—“

“I’ll get up in a minute, I promise, but come here first.”

Merlin sighs. “Alright, you big baby.”

But Arthur can see the way he trembles with uncertainty as he sits down to take off his boots. He can see the way Merlin’s brow twitches and how he isn’t quite sure of himself as he slides under the covers.

Well. Can’t have that.

“I said come here,” Arthur murmurs, gathering Merlin into his arms, “there.”

“…’rthur?”

“There,” Arthur sighs, snuggling into his new Merlin-shaped pillow, “perfect.”

Merlin’s tunics are scratchy. He’s a bit elbows and knees. He doesn’t seem to know what to do with all his limbs.

But as Merlin’s arms shakily come up to hold Arthur back, a contented rumble comes from Arthur’s chest.

Merlin is warm.

Yeah, they’re not getting up for a few hours. Leon will understand.

Merlin doesn’t like going hunting, which is fine, which is why they’ve affectionally renamed it ‘a woods trip.’ Actually, he’s pretty sure Gwaine calls it ‘get Arthur out of the castle so his prat nature doesn’t consume him,’ but everyone gets the point.

The point is that it’s one of the few times where they can just be a group of men, bit worried about getting stabbed by bandits, yes, but not worried about the rules and hierarchies and eyes of the city on them all the time. They can mess about and joke and partake in the bizarre sense of humor they all seem to have without any of the guards looking worriedly at each other when they think they won’t be seen.

Honestly, most of the guards at this point have just…accepted it. Arthur will never quite get over the one time he overheard a conversation with one of the new guards outside his room.

“Shouldn’t we tell someone that the servant is conspiring against the King?”

There had been a scoff from the older guard, Kodi. “You must be new.”

If Merlin had wondered why Arthur was muffling snorts into a napkin when he returned, he didn’t ask.

The woods aren’t exactly safe, not like Camelot is, but as Leon says, the safest place for a ship is in the harbor but ships were made to sail.

It’s what he tends to pull out whenever one of them complains about camping out for a night.

“Come on,” Gwaine mutters as he tries to get the fire to start, “come on, you bastard…”

Merlin glances over and hides a smirk. “Need a hand, Gwaine?”

“No.”

After a few seconds pass, Gwaine stifles a sigh.

“Maybe.”

Merlin stands, takes the flint and steel from him, and crouches down. He strikes it once and there’s barely a spark. He frowns. Another try yields another failure.

“What’s wrong with this thing?”

“So it’s not me. Great.”

“No, it’s—did someone leave this out?”

“Ah—“ Percival raises his hand— “that might’ve been me. One of the canteens spilled over the pack that it was in.”

“Well, yeah, that’ll explain why the—yeah, that’s it.” Merlin sighs. “Okay, well, um…”

“Can’t you just—“ Lancelot snaps his fingers— “you know?”

Merlin stiffens.

“Hey,” Gwaine murmurs softly, resting his hand on Merlin’s shoulder, “Merlin. Hey, Merlin, look at me.”

Merlin turns, his mouth a hard line.

“You have magic,” Gwaine says gently, “we know. We don’t care that it’s illegal. You’re not bad for having magic and we won’t punish you for using it.”

“…thanks.”

“Anytime.” He nods toward a scrap of kindling. “Now come on, I’m hungry.”

It gets a weak laugh out of Merlin as he stretches his hand out and mumbles something. A fire sparks into existence and roars merrily. Gwaine smiles and wraps his arms tightly around Merlin.

“Good job, Merlin,” he says quietly as Percival drops a hand onto his shoulder and rubs, “good job.”

“…really?”

“Yes.” Percival gives his shoulder a squeeze. “Good.”

New rule they figured out: Merlin isn’t allowed to go near bodies of water unsupervised.

It’s the end of winter and the trees are just starting to grow their leaves out again. The grass is turning green under the lumps of snow that still remain and the birds have started to sing. All around them is the sharp sweet smell of new, the soft cracks as the ice melts.

Soft cracks, mind you. Not big ones that mean someone is about to fall through a thawing lake.

He didn’t actually fall through, but it had been a close thing.

Elyan had fretted for a good few minutes as Merlin’s teeth chattered until they figured out the poor man had just had a clump of snow fall on top of him, he hadn’t fallen through the ice into the lake. He gets a half-hearted scolding as they whip up a fire and a warm drink, quickly replaced by questions of whether he’s okay, is everything still attached to him, is he hurt?

“I’m fine,” Merlin insists, huddling by the fire, “just a bit cold.”

“You’re still shivering,” Elyan points out quietly, “give me your hands.”

“What? Why?”

“I’m going to make sure you don’t lose circulation.”

Merlin frowns but lets Elyan take his hands. The knight begins to rub his fingers in a pattern Merlin recognizes from Gaius, stimulating blood flow back into the digits to ensure that everything is working properly.

Elyan works patiently for a few seconds until he realizes that Merlin’s eyes have glazed over.

“Merlin?”

Merlin blinks and seems to snap out of whatever daze he was in. “Sorry, sorry, I just—um—“

Elyan tilts his head, Merlin’s hands still cradled in his lap as he struggles for words. Absentmindedly, he swipes a thumb over Merlin’s palm and Merlin bites back a whimper.

“Merlin, am I hurting you?”

“I mean…yes? But no, no wait, I don’t want you to stop, I just—it—“

“Shh,” Elyan says, “it’s okay. Tell me what hurts.”

“I just…you’re really warm,” Merlin mumbles, “and I guess I’m just not used to…to…to touch yet.”

“Ah, I see.” Elyan moves his hands slowly, seeing the blood flow is mostly back to normal as he cups Merlin’s hands between his own. “It’s still warmer than you’re used to, right?”

Merlin nods.

“Can I keep holding your hands?”

“Mhm.”

Elyan holds Merlin’s hands in his own until they deem it safe for him to ride back to Camelot.

If Lancelot knows the secret to getting Merlin to feel a little more comfortable in his own skin, it’s to have him hold something.

He’s not sure why it takes Merlin’s mind down an edge as he begins to fiddle with whatever’s in his hands, but it does. The worried furrow in his brow softens into one of concentration, the anxious twitches of his fingers grow more fluid, more relaxed as he twists and turns the thing between them. Over the years, he’s gotten good at figuring out what Merlin needs to be holding, if he does say so himself.

When Arthur has an important meeting that makes Merlin’s eyes dart around the room, Lancelot hands him a shirt that needs to be repaired. Merlin’s hands navigate the stitches with ease as he makes sure Arthur’s got his armor of a different sort.

When there’s a tournament full of knights coming from far away that Merlin can’t trust quite yet, Lancelot hands him a pouch of seeds to sort, collected from one of the children from the flower store. Merlin sorts them deftly, putting each group into a little envelope to be returned, using it to hone his eye.

When there’s a terrible thunderstorm and Merlin can’t sleep, when Lancelot finds him wandering the castle late at night, he gives him a little plush toy. It’s a small thing, stitched together from remnants of clothing, and something that the servants pretend doesn’t exist. But if you know where to look, and who to talk to, there will be a little stuffed toy sitting on your nightstand if you ever need something to hold. Malwen raises an eyebrow when he asks for one but once she knows it’s for Merlin, Lancelot has it before the day is out.

As he watches Merlin fiddle with the toy, twirling one of the buttons around and round its thread, he wonders.

Is this the only form of physical comfort Merlin has ever allowed himself to have?

The answer is an incredibly disheartening yes, and Lancelot resolves to always give Merlin what he needs to help himself.

Then there’s a moment where Lancelot has no idea what Merlin would want to hold.

It’s a visiting lord, because it’s always a visiting lord when it’s not bandits or a visiting knight. They storm inside—Lancelot hadn’t bothered to remember his name—and pronounced that he missed Uther’s way of doing things. That when Uther was in charge, Camelot was strong, that there were roots of evil snuffed out at every turn.

Of course, he was quickly glared into submission by Percival and Arthur had cooly informed him that evil was snuffed out by not giving it an environment to grow, not futility ripping weeds from the soil.

But not in time to stop the lord’s words from getting to Merlin.

Lancelot finds Merlin on the balcony that isn’t a balcony, an abandoned training ground far above the rest of the city. He sits on the old stone, swinging his legs back and forth, staring at the ground with a glazed expression. His hands twist and turn over each other and his breathing is a little too controlled to be safe.

“Merlin,” he calls softly, not wanting to startle him, “Merlin, can I come sit with you?”

“Mm.”

“Thank you.” Lancelot eases himself down onto the stone bench, speaking softly as if he’s trying to soothe a wild animal. “Are you hurt?”

“No.”

Merlin isn’t hurt, good. Lancelot glances down at his hands. They twitch and knead at the fabric of his tunic. They clench into fists only to open a few seconds later. They look like they hurt.

They’re trembling.

Lancelot takes a deep breath and carefully, oh, so carefully, takes one of them in his.

Merlin goes limp, all but slumping into his shoulder. His hands are so cold.

“I’m right here, Merlin,” Lancelot murmurs, giving the hand in his a squeeze, “I’m right here.”

Slowly, he reaches out to take the other, feeling Merlin’s hands twitch lazily in his. Every so often, Merlin will squeeze and he will squeeze back. Merlin’s head tucks itself under his chin and the warm rush of his breath hits Lancelot’s arm. His hands stay safely in Lancelot’s grip.

Lancelot will always give Merlin something to hold. It’s no accident that includes his own hands.

Not many people in Camelot know that Leon isn’t just Arthur’s right hand, but the closest thing Arthur had to a brother.

They grew up together, in the streets and fields and halls of Camelot, running around with sticks before they got given swords, fighting dragons and monsters before they battled the real ones, helping each other in secret before they rose to places where no one could hurt them.

Leon remembers holding an Arthur too young for any of this as his father raged, as the swords clashed too close to his face, as a peaceful village burned around them. He remembers a younger Arthur holding onto his cloak, his sleeve, his hand, always asking, asking, asking Leon to be there, just to be there, the way he didn’t feel anyone else was.

They’re older now, and now Arthur is a man Leon is proud to know. He asks Arthur for things now, for help dismantling the things they hated as children, for help finding ways to take care of the knights when he doesn’t know what to do, for help figuring out what to do in this world where things are starting to make less and less sense day by day.

Arthur is his brother, his friend, and his King. Leon is Arthur’s brother, his friend, and his Knight.

To most others, Leon is nigh untouchable. He is the longest-serving knight in Camelot, he is almost royalty with how close he is to the Pendragon family, and he is near unmatched on the dueling grounds. He has the ear of the King, the unwavering loyalty of the knights, and the faith of the Council.

There is a short list of the few who know he this is not all he is.

There are a few children in the lower town who know he is a kind man before he is a great knight, that there are scrapes and bruises they receive running from something only to be protected by a red cloak and a calm voice. There are a few servants who know that his presence as they walk to Gaius is an impenetrable shield on one side and the softest guiding hand on the other. There are a few stable boys who know that they will never again be beaten for who they are because he is just like them.

But Leon has not truly cared for someone younger than him since Arthur was little. Not the way he used to.

Of course, as he is with most things, Merlin is the exception to this rule.

Merlin, with all his magic and baffling charm and bumbling wisdom, worms his way into Leon’s heart by the time he gets assigned to be Prince Arthur’s Manservant. From there, it isn’t hard for Leon to watch with a certain glow of pride in his chest as Arthur starts to change, from the hardened fist Uther wanted him to be to the man the little boy he grew up with was supposed to be. He keeps his words to himself about how kind Merlin is, relentlessly so, and smiles quietly when Arthur begins to clumsily mimic the acts of kindness. He grows to care for Merlin quickly, making room next to his heart for one more, nestled close.

But it isn’t until he has a chance to comfort Merlin properly that he begins to think of him as a brother.

Don’t get him wrong, Merlin is his brother the same way the knights are his brothers. But Leon hasn’t loved someone the way he loves Arthur in a long time.

He receives a call from Gaius and responds, hurrying down to the physician’s chambers to see Merlin’s face is awfully flushed and his eyes red-rimmed in tears. He hurries faster to Merlin’s side, asking what’s happened, what’s wrong?

It seems Merlin has been fixing something wrong with the magic of this bracelet Gaius shows him, a silver one with a big amber stone in the middle. It looks familiar, it reminds Leon of Morgana for some strange reason, but he can’t quite place it. But it seems something went wrong and now…now poor Merlin is upset.

Leon knows what to do.

He guides Merlin carefully into his room, stopping to remove his mail shirt and leaving him in the softer under-tunic and cloak, and sitting Merlin carefully down on the bed. The poor man looks cold, small, like a scared dog.

“Merlin,” he says softly, “Merlin, I’m going to sit next to you now.”

He eases his weight down onto the bed and waits. Waits for another tear to roll down Merlin’s cheek to let out a soft noise of concern, melting at the sight of someone crying.

“Come,” he murmurs, opening his arms, “shed your tears, Merlin.”

And oh, he hasn’t seen those eyes for a very long time. Not since little Arthur had looked up at him, shining with undisguised hope and want but holding himself back, like a starved puppy too scared to eat. It breaks his heart and he lets out another low noise, reaching for Merlin.

“When Arthur was little,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing as he begins to gather Merlin into his lap, “he never used to like sleeping alone when his father was away. He said the castle was too big, too empty, even with all the people inside.”

He takes Merlin’s hands and guides them around his neck.

“I never liked sleeping in the castle either, it was too quiet. I didn’t know where anything was, except for Arthur. One night, he came into my chambers and all but tackled me in a hug.” He smiles fondly at the memory. “He insisted I let him stay.”

“St-stay?”

“Yes, Merlin, stay. Stay with me, let me hold him until we both fell asleep. He pulled himself into my lap—yes, just like this, your legs over mine—and wrapped his arms around my neck—there you go, just here, that’s it, you hold onto me now—and we stayed like that until we fell asleep.”

Merlin’s hair ruffles as he settles, Leon’s breath warming the top of Merlin’s head as he tucks the poor man close. Merlin’s hands are ice around his neck.

“And when the nights got cold, we would wrap ourselves up in the blankets,” he continues, beginning to swaddle them both in his cloak, “until we were bundled so tightly together that even the coldest night wouldn’t get it. It was warm, I remember being warm, there, in the bed, in the blankets, safe…and warm…”

There’s a quiet sigh against his neck as he wraps the cloak around the both of them. It’s warm, a perfect little nest. Merlin’s weight settles against his chest and part of him that’s been suppressed for many, many years starts to warm.

“He stopped coming to me when he got older,” he murmurs, “whether because he didn’t need it anymore or if he got too big. Between you and me, I’m sure it’s the second one. He’d still try if he weren’t worried about hurting me. I think he misses it, sometimes.”

He pauses, then leans closer and tucks his face against Merlin’s temple.

“I know I did. I still do, every now and then, but I know Arthur feels safe now in a way he never did when we were growing up. And most of that is thanks to you.”

“M-me?”

“Yes, Merlin,” Leon whispers, “you. You make him feel safe, make the rest of us feel safe. You’re a good person, Merlin, and we care very deeply about you.”

“…you do?”

He can hear the sleep coloring Merlin’s voice. He hushes the poor thing, cuddles him close, rocks the both of them closer to slumber.

“Of course we do,” he whispers to his brother, “of course we do.”

+1.

Sometimes Merlin has good days. Days where he’s smiling and laughing and joking with the knights. Days where he’s bantering back and forth with Arthur like it’s nothing. Days where he uses his magic the way he always has, like it’s a part of him.

Sometimes Merlin has bad days. Days where he’s quiet and they can’t get him to smile. Days where he is every bit the perfect servant for Arthur, which means he’s about as far from Merlin as he could be. Days where he seems to want to pretend he’s never had magic in his life.

Today is a bad day.

Merlin doesn’t talk until one of them asks. He goes off on his chores and they don’t see him for hours. Gaius is worried. Leon is worried. Lancelot is worried.

Percival is angry. Some of the new knights believe Merlin is a traitor—for whatever reason—and spends time educating them on the training fields.

Elyan is afraid. Gwen came to him and said that she hasn’t seen Merlin all day, which means Merlin is avoiding the servants as well as the knights.

Gwaine is upset. Because he can’t find Merlin anywhere and the longer he stays away the worse he’s going to be when he comes back.

Arthur walks into his chambers at the end of the day and sees Merlin sitting on his bed.

He stuffs away the outrage at himself for not thinking to look here first, stuffs away the fear and sadness that Merlin is upset, stuffs away the need to order him to Gaius and have him looked over, and replaces it with a soft call of: “Merlin?”

“Sire.”

Oh, no.

“Hello, Merlin,” Arthur says softly, “can I come over to you?”

“If you like, sire.”

“I would.” Arthur crosses the room slowly, wary of Merlin’s reaction, until he can stop within arms’ reach. “Hello.”

“Hello.” Merlin looks up at him. “May I ask you for a favor, sire?”

“Of course, Merlin, anything you like.”

“…m-may I have a hug, please?”

Arthur’s heart shatters.

His face must do the wrong thing because Merlin flinches, withdrawing into himself. “I’m sorry, sire, that was rude of me to ask. I’ll leave you be, now.”

“No, no, no, Merlin,” Arthur stammers, “no, that’s not what I meant, stay, stay, Merlin, of course you can have a hug, come here, come here—“

He gathers Merlin into his arms, to his chest, wrapping him up as snugly as he can.

“You don’t need permission for a hug, Merlin, that’s why I was upset,” he mumbles, “I don’t want you to think you have to earn it, you don’t—“

It seems his ramblings, however embarrassing to him, are helping Merlin calm down. Or at least get over his fear enough to wrap his arms around Arthur too. Arthur squeezes him tight and is content to sit there for a moment to let Merlin have what he wants, but then he feels something tug at his chest.

Tug, tug, tug.

Arthur frowns, tries to tug back, only for the tugging to grow more insistent. He follows the tugging to scoop Merlin into his arms, carry him to the bed, and lie down beside him. As the tugging persists, he tucks Merlin’s head under his chin and pulls him closer, threading a leg through his. One last tug and oh, oh, he understands now.

“You’re not bad,” he murmurs, ruffling Merlin’s hair as he talks, “you’re not evil. You have magic, Merlin, that’s alright. You’re my Merlin. I don’t want a proper servant, I don’t want a normal servant, I want you. You’re my Merlin.”

There.

Whatever wall there is crumbles as Merlin begins to sob desperately into his chest. The tugging renews, guiding him this way, that way, to hold Merlin close, to pull back and let him gasp for breath, to murmur reassurances in his ear, or to roll a little and hold Merlin down as he seizes with the force of the cries.

And through it all, Merlin never stops asking for comfort.

His fingers never loosen their grip on Arthur’s shirt. His legs never let go of the one Arthur wraps through his. His nose never strays far from the crook of Arthur’s neck. He never stops pushing himself into Arthur’s chest, almost as if he’s trying to climb inside and make a home for himself there.

He already has one.

Arthur realizes the wordless asks and answers, holding him as tight as he wants, listening to the tugs in his chest to take care of his Merlin properly, never stops murmuring that yes, this is good, this is alright, Merlin can have whatever he wants, Arthur’s here, he’s here, he’ll take care of Merlin.

He’ll be here. He’ll always be right here.

After, Arthur will ask him softly about the tugs, and Merlin will blush and realize that his magic was asking for help when he couldn’t. Arthur will smile and ruffle his hair and tease him about his magic liking Arthur better than him. The smile will soften when Merlin shakily admits he’s thought the same thing.

After, Merlin will start asking for touch more. He’ll brush his hand against Lancelot’s, sit a little closer to Gwaine or Percival, start accompanying Elyan on his daily walks, or find himself reaching for Leon’s cloak only for Leon to bundle his hand in his and keep it safe.

After, Merlin will slide into bed the moment Arthur opens his arms, letting them both sleep in a little more and enjoy the feeling of warm, warm, warm.

But right now, Merlin is crying in Arthur’s arms and Arthur isn’t going anywhere.

He’ll always be right here.

#merlin #merlin bbc #bbc merlin #merthur #merthur fic #arthur pendragon #knights of camelot #dragonbabbles #fic

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jackoshadows · 4 years ago

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Do you think that Daenerys will burn kings landing in the books? She did it on the show and she has to show the strength of her dragons in Westeros like in Essos.

For the answer to this question, I would direct you to Dany blogs that dissect her story arc using the books. You could read their theories and speculations based on the books and come to your own conclusion on this.

As for my speculations on this,

1. Dany has done nothing so far in the last 5 books that leads towards her going on a random rampage in KL. She has shown a lot of concern and care towards the civilians and common folk of Essos. More than the likes of Robb Stark for example.

2. Dany burning down KL would turn her into her father. This goes against what I think is GRRM’s message in the series - that the younger generation can rise above their birth and the societal biases against them.

3. That said, I do think that the author means for us to question and speculate, along with Daenerys, if she would turn into her father. This is an internal conflict that the character is struggling with and a part of her story. More on this below the cut.*

4. I think there will be a second dance of dragons between Young Griff/Aegon and Daenerys in KL. Going back to the original outline, the second book of the original trilogy - titled the Dance of Dragons - was supposed to be about Dany’s conquest of Westeros. There will be casualties in this war. GRRM has been explicit about the consequences of war on the small folk due to the WOT5K. Robb Stark may have had a just cause but innocent people suffered and died due to his war for independence. Even with Stannis’ march to Winterfell, we see a 14 year old soldier being burned to death as punishment for cannibalizing a corpse because he was so hungry and there’s no food. War is brutal.

5. Dany can win KL without massacring thousands. The Lannisters did it in the books when they sacked KL and no one - not even the honorable Ned Stark - complained about it. She could have done it on the show and won - except, suddenly pacifist Tyrion kept advising against it. In fact if the dragons act as a nuclear deterrent, there will be less casualties. Aegon the conqueror won the North without a single casualty.

5. Westeros is already in a bad way and winter has come to KL by the end of the fifth book. Dany will end up in charge of a war torn Westeros down south. By which time, the North is overrun, Winterfell is lost and the survivors head south. IMO, the Others will not be defeated at Winterfell in 30 minutes like on the show. They are the central antagonists and the last book will mostly be about the rest of Westeros uniting against them. Dany will acknowledge the central premise of the series - ‘ When dead men come hunting in the night, do you think it matters who sits the Iron Throne?’ and joins Jon, Bran, Arya and others to defeat the army of the dead.

6. I have no idea how her story will end in the books. Considering she dies on the show and if it’s the same in the books, I would think that if she goes out she will go out a hero and not a villain. There’s a lot of prophecies associated with her and I would speculate that her character is instrumental in defeating the Others. Fire and Ice and all that.

7. And speculate is all we can do, considering we will never get the last book and a conclusion to GRRM’s version of the story.

* Now to expand a little bit on the point number 3 above.

I would like to comment on a line of thought/discourse regarding Daenerys Targaryen, Jon Snow and Targaryen madness.

I have seen a few posts from time to time making the assertion that if one speculates on mad queen Dany, but does not do the same for Jon Snow, then this is sexism. I disagree.

Now, if one is making that argument that by genetics, Daenerys Targaryen is designed to go mad and she will go mad, burn down KL and die while Jon goes on to be King or goes into exile etc. then yes, this argument would indeed be sexist, IMO. If we are going to speculate based on Targaryen genetics, then, not much is different between Jon and Dany. They are both Targaryens. Dany is not fire proof and neither is Jon. While Dany has some strongly prophetic dragon dreams, there are indications that Jon’s dreams are prophetic as well.

“Sleep came at last, and with it nightmares. He dreamed of burning castles and dead men rising unquiet from their graves”

He has dreamed of Winterfell burning, of Ned being executed, of being told that he is not a Stark by the old kings of winter in the crypts where his mother is buried and of Bran as a weirwood.

Jon’s dream here is very similar to what Dany dreams of:

“Snow,” an eagle cried, as foemen scuttled up the ice like spiders. Jon was armored in black ice, but his blade burned red in his fist. As the dead men reached the top of the Wall he sent them down to die again. - Jon Snow

That night she dreamt that she was Rhaegar, riding to the Trident. But she was mounted on a dragon, not a horse. When she saw the Usurper’s rebel host across the river they were armored all in ice, but she bathed them in dragonfire and they melted away like dew and turned the Trident into a torrent.- Daenerys Targaryen

We know zombie ice spiders are going to be a thing. And the armor of black ice that Jon references here could be Euron Greyjoy’s black valyrian steel armor.

So if Dany is going to go mad because of genetics, then there is every chance that Jon will as well.

But from a narrative point of view, the author wants us to question if Dany will go the same way as her father. The mad king Aerys III is a part of Dany’s story. She questions if she is going to become her father. Other characters – allies and enemies – do the same. It’s a conflict that Dany wrestles with as she comes to terms with her Targaryen identity. It’s an obstacle she faces as she takes on both enemies and friends.

"Freedom to starve?" asked Dany sharply. "Freedom to die? Am I a dragon, or a harpy?" Am I mad? Do I have the taint? (ASOS, Daenerys VI)

A shadow. A memory. No one. She was the blood of the dragon, but Ser Barristan had warned her that in that blood there was a taint. Could I be going mad? They had called her father mad, once. (ADWD, Daenerys II)

The old knight did not blink. "Your father is called 'the Mad King' in Westeros. Has no one ever told you?"

"Viserys did." The Mad King. "The Usurper called him that, the Usurper and his dogs." The Mad King. "It was a lie."

"Why ask for truth," Ser Barristan said softly, "if you close your ears to it?" He hesitated, then continued. "I told you before that I used a false name so the Lannisters would not know that I'd joined you. That was less than half of it, Your Grace. The truth is, I wanted to watch you for a time before pledging you my sword. To make certain that you were not . . ."

". . . my father's daughter?" If she was not her father's daughter, who was she?

". . . mad," he finished. "But I see no taint in you."

And then there is the discourse that her enemies start about her being mad. The propaganda that she is just like her father. Propaganda that will no doubt be also used in Westeros.

The clever Volantene swordsman who always seemed to have his nose poked in some crumbly scroll, thought the dragon queen both murderous and mad. "Her khal killed her brother to make her queen. Then she killed her khal to make herself khaleesi. She practices blood sacrifice, lies as easily as she breathes, turns against her own on a whim. She's broken truces, tortured envoys … her father was mad too. It runs in the blood." (ADWD, The Windblown)

Madness and the mad king is nowhere in Jon’s story arcs or narrative themes. GRRM still thinks that R+L=J is some big secret and was so impressed that Benioff and Weiss figured it out he gave them the show. The author does not question whether Jon is going to become a mad Targaryen with a fascination for burning people to death.

Jon’s internal conflicts and the problems he has to surmount are different in nature. He is a bastard born of ‘lust and deceit’. If we want a connection here to the Targaryens that explores Jon’s narrative arc, then there is the Blackfyre rebellion. Daemon Blackfyre’s attempt to usurp the throne is used as an example in Westeros to be wary of all bastards, noble or base born.

So if the speculation is that Dany is going to turn into her father and become the mad queen, then the narrative equivalent for Jon would be that he would be a deceitful usurper who takes Winterfell from his trueborn siblings.

And this is something that is explored in Jon’s story.

When Stannis offers Winterfell to Jon, the only reason he does not accept is because of his oaths as a NW brother and his reluctance to burn down the heart trees in Winterfell. But in his heart, he wants it.

He wanted it, Jon knew then. He wanted it as much as he had ever wanted anything. I have always wanted it, he thought, guiltily. May the gods forgive me. It was a hunger inside him, sharp as a dragonglass blade. A hunger … he could feel it. — Jon Snow, ASOS

Just as Dany wrestles with whether she will turn into her father, Jon wrestles with his feelings of wanting Winterfell and feeling ashamed of those feelings.

His dreams in regards to this are interesting:

The world dissolved into a red mist. Jon stabbed and slashed and cut. He hacked down Donal Noye and gutted Deaf Dick Follard. Qhorin Halfhand stumbled to his knees, trying in vain to staunch the flow of blood from his neck. "I am the Lord of Winterfell," Jon screamed. It was Robb before him now, his hair wet with melting snow. Longclaw took his head off. Then a gnarled hand seized Jon roughly by the shoulder. He whirled …- Jon XII, ADWD

Jon literally beheads Robb in his dreams.

There is a lot of speculation here that after he comes back from the dead, we are going to get a darker Jon Snow who is going to go after Winterfell and not care much about the trueborn siblings ahead of him in the queue. We could see conflict between Jon and Rickon or Jon and Sansa. The original outline hinted that Jon and Bran would not get along.

And just like Dany faces the ‘Mad Queen’ propaganda because of Aerys III, Jon too faces the biased prejudice against bastards because of the actions of Daemon Blackfyre. While prejudice against bastards existed before then, the Blackfyres are often used as an example to caution against them.

Catelyn’s hatred for Jon Snow is based on the fear that someday he would usurp and take away Winterfell from her children.

“Not unless he’s legitimized by a royal decree,” said Robb. “There is more precedent for that than for releasing a Sworn Brother from his oath.”

“Precedent,” she said bitterly. “Yes, Aegon the Fourth legitimized all his bastards on his deathbed. And how much pain, grief, war, and murder grew from that? I know you trust Jon. But can you trust his sons? Or their sons? The Blackfyre pretenders troubled the Targaryens for five generations, until Barristan the Bold slew the last of them on the Stepstones. If you make Jon legitimate, there is no way to turn him bastard again. Should he wed and breed, any sons you may have by Jeyne will never be safe.” - Catelyn, ASoS

Similarly the Blackfish – having not even met Jon Snow – distrusts him.

"I will permit you to take the black. Ned Stark's bastard is the Lord Commander on the Wall."

The Blackfish narrowed his eyes. "Did your father arrange for that as well? Catelyn never trusted the boy, as I recall, no more than she ever trusted Theon Greyjoy. It would seem she was right about them both..." - Jaime Lannister, AFfC

The existing prejudices against bastards in Westeros is strong.

"Trueborn children are made in a marriage bed and blessed by the Father and Mother, but bastards are born of lust and weakness." - Jon Snow

Orys Baratheon was a baseborn half brother to Lord Aegon, it was whispered, and the Storm King would not dishonor his daughter by giving her hand to a bastard. The very suggestion enraged him.

Go away, I wanted only Freys up here, the King in the North has no interest in base stock.— Walder Frey to little Walda Rivers

Bastard children were born from lust and lies, men said; their nature was wanton and treacherous. Once Jon had meant to prove them wrong, to show his lord father he could as good a true son as Robb Stark - Jon Snow

So both Jon and Dany face internal conflicts and the author wishes to interrogate if Dany can overcome her own self doubts with respect to her father and society’s opinions of her and if Jon can overcome his desires and personal ambition for Winterfell and society’s opinions of bastards as untrustworthy and deceitful.

If a reader is therefore making the argument that Dany will become the mad queen like her father and burn down everyone – they should also rightfully be arguing for Jon turning against his family for a selfish power grab and essentially turning into Daemon Blackfyre.

Remember how Daemon took the Targaryen sigil with colors reversed – a black dragon on red giving him the nickname ‘The Black Dragon’

Jon was referred to as the ‘White Wolf’ on the show and as per the books, two bastards have reversed the sigils. Jon’s direwolf Ghost is white and he would therefore have a white wolf on a grey background as opposed to the Stark grey direwolf on a white background.

The sexism arises when Dany is singled out for turning into exactly what her enemies expect her to be, while the Starks overcome societal prejudices and expectations and end up the heroes. That, while Dany turns into her father, Jon Snow continues to love his Stark family (i.e Sansa Stark) so much and would sacrifice everything for them.

The show’s thesis and final message for these Targaryens is that they cannot rise above their birth and are exactly what society makes of them. That their final destiny is decided from birth and that they cannot change it no matter how much they tried. Daenerys turned into her father, randomly burned down KL for no reason and massacred thousands. Jon Snow pretends to support her, gets close to her, deceives her and kills her. He becomes a kinslayer, a queenslayer, a traitor – deceitful and untrustworthy and is exiled. It was an utterly nihilistic ending for house Targaryen.

I strongly believe that GRRM is not heading in this direction for these characters. It would be very disappointing if this is what he intends for them. It would indeed be sexist if GRRM wrote Dany as turning into her father, while Jon remains good and faithful to his family. From my reading and interpretation of these books, the story is about these underdogs triumphing over their internal conflicts. The conclusion of this tale would be Dany not turning into the mad queen, Jon not turning into a deceitful traitor, Arya not fleeing Westeros because she does not belong, Bran becoming king despite being a cripple.

But that is the final answer. In the meantime, GRRM means to explore these characters and their narrative themes and conflicts. In that context, it’s valid to question and theorize whether a possible direction for Dany’s story is her becoming her father. Five books in there is nothing to support this theory, but it is a theme that GRRM is interested in examining for the character of Daenerys Targaryen.

#Daenerys Targaryen #Jon Snow #asoiaf #anti GOT #asks

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