#constantly grieving the child while the man that lives is being haunted. by himself by the others by the narrative.

[martyrbat]

Deaf Republic - Ilya Kaminsky

[TEXT ID: —observe this moment / how it convulses— / the body of the boy lies on the asphalt / like a paperclip. / the body of the boy lies on the asphalt / like the body of a boy.]

[cluescorner]

Tim Drake has a weird fucking function

The thing about Tim that I find unique is that his life became SO MUCH WORSE after joining the heroing thing. Everybody else had a mid-to-shit life before becoming a hero/living with Bruce and mostly everybody (except Jason who LITERALLY DIED) had their life improved by being a hero/being Bruce's kid (or at least it is typically portrayed as such.

Tim had the exact opposite trajectory. His life wasn't perfect before he became Robin, but like...multi-millionaire/billionaire (canon is unclear, but he's within Gotham's upper-strata) kid with both natural intelligence + charisma and a bright future ahead of him and parents who were emotionally neglectful but nothing really beyond that (which is also a form of trauma, but all of the info we have indicates that the Drakes were no Arthur Brown or David Cain) and he still had other people he could rely on outside of them. He went to boarding school, which could be something horrible OR something amazing depending on your own thoughts/experiences. I grew up having a commute where we'd drive past a really pretty and rich af boarding school that literally everybody in our area DREAMED of going to, so to me the idea of going to boarding school sounds incredible but mileage may vary. Tim seems like the type of kid who would thrive in that though. Based on what we know in canon atm, his pre-robin life was fucking amazing.

And then he starts being the sidekick and working towards becoming Robin. His parents immediately get kidnapped and poison themselves through drinking tainted water; his mom dies and his dad is in a coma. This is not the fault of Robin, but Tim himself muses about the idea that Robin and dead parents are linked: to become Robin completely, you must lose your parents. And with how fate/destiny/canon events can operate in comics universes, maybe he isn't that far off. Once his dad wakes up, their relationship becomes strained as the man grieves the loss of his wife and realizes that his son has been doing vigilantism as a hobby. It is unclear exactly how good of a parent Jack was before the incident, but the results of Tim's involvement with the Robin mantle has definitely made things worse between father and son. Jack will also die within quick succession of 2 of Tim's best friends, his girlfriend, and his other father. He will also effectively lose like 1/2 his loved ones in the fallout of all of that mess including: his older brother, his other friends (both civilian and superhero), and the stepmother with whom he shared what I would argue is his best parent-child relationship (Dana also may have died, but it's left unclear). He has stopped pursuing higher education (the moment he even applied for college he 'died', and it seems he hasn't made another attempt since) and if he wasn’t a major focus of the media before he sure is now. He tries to quit briefly (in fact he initially was planning on quitting once someone more suited came along) and cannot bring himself to do so. Even when he does manage to get away for a while, his superhero life impacts the pre-robin life he is trying to go back to. Leaving is an impossibility, this is all there is for him now. He also isn’t allowed to make mistakes anymore, not when lives hang in the balance. The one who enforces that impossible standard the most (besides Bruce depending on who's writing) is himself. He’s got TRAUMA now and people want to hurt him constantly. He is constantly questioning his own sanity and morality and place in the world. He almost dies like every month. Tim grows colder and less grounded, he is becoming both a better and a worse version of himself at the same time. He’s saving lives in the same few issues as he’s setting up a Saw movie plot for the man who killed his father. He is haunted by the ghosts of his past and the looming figure of his future. His life becomes SO MUCH FUCKING WORSE after he becomes Robin. Some of it is the fault of others, some is the fault of circumstance, and some of it is due to his own actions. But basically all of Tim's worst traumas and life-changing moments are either tied to or caused by Robin. Dick's parents would still be dead, Jason would still be living on the streets, Stephanie would still have Arthur Brown for a father and a lot of other things that deserve their own posts/IDK if they've been retconned, and Damian would still have been raised in the eco-cult where death is a constant. Those are life circumstances that occur without the involvement of Robin, the only one who even needs Bruce involved at all in their series of events is Damian. But Tim? All of what is considered his 'worst' moments occur after he assumes the role.

This idea is what I find the coolest and most fascinating about Tim as a character. Being a hero is usually portrayed as either an outright awesome thing or a righteous duty that one must fulfill or (maybe in a grimmer and/or more grounded story) a sacrifice to your interpersonal relationships/mental health that is made for the greater good. For Tim, being a superhero actively ruined his life (both because of the general circumstances surrounding being a kid vigilante and the choices he made as part of that role). It's never portrayed that way in canon because we need to come out of issues going 'wow being a superhero is so cool! I'm gonna buy the next issue!', but when you just look at Tim's life literally everything really bad that we know of occurred after he became Robin.

[axwalker]

Tears in Heaven 10: Endings

Synopsis: Alexis O’Brien is about to get married but memories of her old life are coming back to haunt her.

Pairings:  Drake x MC (TRR)

Warnings:  NO ONE UNDER 18 should read this story. This is an 18+ blog.

Mention of child death, mention of depression, grieving

N*FW content!

A/N:  There will be a small epilogue next week, but this is the official ENDING.

I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Thank you so much to all the people that read it, shared it and commented it. Every single like, reblog or comment gave me life! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

@mskaneko​ Thank you for all your amazing insights when you read and your incredibly inspiring edits and mood boards. You’re one of a kind!

@pedudley​ Thank you for pre-reading every chapter and being such a great, supportive friend. Your feedback meant a lot/

@burnsoslow​ The MVP of this whole thing!!  I was so stuck before your brilliant book idea!! Thank you for that and for the hours and hours (and hours) of editing!! Without you I would’ve never been able to write this fic. You’re an amazing friend and human being. THANK YOU FOR ALL YOUR HELP.

I LOVE ALL OF YOU SO MUCH ❤️

To catch up: Masterlist

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Pixelberry. The edit at the end of this fic belongs to the talented @mskaneko​

Word count: 7 697 (!!!)

Songs inspiration: Tears in heaven by Eric Clapton

Tagging: @ao719​  @yukinagato2012​ @texaskitten30​ @kingliam2019​ @cordonia-gothqueen​ @bebepac​ @nomadics-stuff​ @cordonianroyalty​ @forthebrokenheartedthings​ @bascmve01​ @gibbles82​ @mom2000aggie​ @gardeningourmet​

Perma: @burnsoslow​ @mskaneko​ @mskaneko​ @pedudley​ @pug-bitch​ @ac27dj​ @twinkle-320​ @kimmiedoo5​  @marshmallowsandfire​  @loveellamae​ @debramcg1106​ @marshmallowsaremyfavorite​  @ravenpuff02​ @princessleac1​ @ritachacha​ @drake-colt-lover-99​

Liam woke up feeling restless. He rolled over in bed, trying to get a few minutes of sleep, but guessed it would be useless. Before taking a long hot shower, Liam called the kitchens so they’d bring him a large jug of strong coffee with his breakfast - he would need it to get through the day. Thirty minutes later, he was sitting on the balcony of his room at Valtoria, sipping his second cup of coffee of the morning and thinking about his fiancée. More than the conversation he had had with Alexis two days prior, it was the one he and his brother had shared the previous afternoon that he was obsessing over.

Since he had met her, he had been head over heels for Alexis. However, even if his love for her was undeniable, the real question was if they were right for each other. Reluctantly, Liam had to admit that he barely recognized himself in the jealous, controlling, manipulative man he had become. And as tempted as he was to blame Drake and his return for the demise of their relationship, deep down, he knew something else was profoundly wrong with them.

Leo was right: He didn’t trust Alexis. Liam wanted to, desperately, but he just couldn’t. The memory of the day he had found her almost dead on her bed still haunted him. Liam had never really gotten over it.

Alexis entered their room and saw Liam sitting with his paper and sipping coffee, lost in his thoughts. Earlier that morning, when she had left Drake’s cabin, she had done so convinced that the only right decision was to marry Liam. However, standing there and watching him, her own words resonated in her head. Liam deserved better. And he did; he deserved better than a life with a woman that would never be able to fully love him. Neither of them would ever be happy if they went ahead with their wedding.

Alexis was scared -- terrified -- of loving Drake again, of facing her grief, but hiding behind Liam couldn’t wouldn’t, be the solution anymore.

“Hi, Li,” she said, sitting on the chair next to him.

“Love.” Liam saw her sad expression and instinctively knew what she was about to tell him.

Alexis hugged herself and took a sharp breath, trying to gather some courage. Her eyes watered as she tried to get the words out. “I’m sorry, Liam.”

Liam’s hand gripped his cup of coffee. “You’re calling off the engagement.”

“I … I wasn’t planning to do it,” she sobbed. “But the more I think about it, the more I realize I’m not good for you, Liam.”

Despite his best efforts, a cold rage overpowered him. “Do not pretend that this has nothing to do with Drake, Alexis.”

“I’m not going to lie. Drake showing up again accelerated things. But our problems have nothing to do with him. Our marriage wouldn’t have lasted. We were asking too much from each other. I would never be happy being a duchess, and I know how badly you want to be a father, Liam. It was selfish of me to ask such a huge sacrifice of you.”

“I don’t care, Alexis. I would do anything for you,” Liam implored. “I know we have problems, but I’m sure that if we work together, we would be able to find a solution.”

She shook her head. “Are you happy with me, Li?”

He brushed his thumb over her cheek. “I love you very deeply, Alexis.”

“That’s not what I asked. You’re constantly worried about me. You don’t trust me. And we never share our problems because we don’t want to burden each other. We never talk about Tom.” She wiped away her tears with the back of her hand.

Liam’s eyes widened. “Did you just say his name?”

She nodded.

“One day with him, and you’re already saying Tom’s name again.” His glossy eyes looked at her. “It’s always been him,” he muttered. “All this time, you didn’t stop loving Drake, did you?” he asked her.

“Liam … please don’t go there,” she begged, more tears running down her face.

“Did you ever even love me?” His voice betrayed the cool façade he was trying to maintain. Incapable of staying put, he stood up in front of the balcony’s railing.

Alexis cut the distance between them and hugged him as tightly as she could. After a moment, she took his head between her hands. “I love you, Liam. And not only because you saved my life, but because you’re an amazing, loving, generous man; because of all the moments we shared together. You gave me a reason to wake up in the mornings. Thanks to you, I was able to smile, to live again. I’ll never forget that.”

“Right ... you’ve always loved me, but you never fell in love with me,” Liam replied bitterly.

At that moment, watching Liam breaking in front of her, Alexis hated herself. “I tried Li. And it has nothing to do with you; I just never really got over … everything.”

Liam wiped a tear from her face. Too heartbroken to talk, he simply took her in his arms and kissed her head.

Alexis took off the engagement ring and placed it in his palm. “I never deserved this. And maybe you don’t believe me right now, but I know you’ll meet someone who will.”

Every word she pronounced felt like he was being stabbed. Liam turned his gaze towards the gardens. “Please leave, Alexis. There is no point in prolonging this anymore.”

Alexis squeezed his hand and left him there. As she walked away, a strong feeling of contrition flitted through her body in response to the tightness in her chest. However, despite her guilt over hurting a good man, Alexis knew she had made the right decision.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Drake put his syringe and gloves in his bag, patted Thunder on his rump, and left the horse’s stall, rubbing his neck tiredly. After a long day doing the weekly check-ups on the horses of one of his biggest clients, he was shattered. However, working to exhaustion hadn’t worked as well as he had hoped; Alexis and her goddamn stubbornness hadn’t left his mind for a second.

When he finally got home, his heart skipped a beat when he saw Alexis sitting on the steps of his porch, waiting for him.

“Hi, Drake.”

His heart raced as it did every time he saw her. “Hi, Lexie.”

“Can we talk?” she asked, and he detected a slight edge in her voice.

“Of course, Lexie. Let’s go inside.”

Alexis shook her head no. “Actually, if you don’t mind, I’d preferred if we take a walk.”

“Why?” Drake questioned, puzzled.

Because if I enter the house, I won’t be able to leave it again.  “It’s better,” she stated simply.

“Okay.” Drake shoved his hands in his pockets. If she didn’t want to come into the house, that meant she was divorcing him and choosing Liam. He felt the pain of losing her all over again threaten his heart.

Drake and Alexis walked a while next to each other without a word. Inadvertently, they took the path to the lake where they used to fish and have picnics with Tom. Drake glanced over her; the look in her eyes was not sad as he had expected but determined. She was wearing the fierce expression that meant she had made a decision.

They sat in the old wooden pier next to each other. “What do you want to talk about, Lexie?”

Alexis bit her bottom lip. “I broke up with Liam.”

His eyes immediately darted to her left hand. Relieved to see that the ring was gone, Drake exhaled a lightened breath. “Lexie.” He was impatient to kiss her, to feel her again, but something about her demeanor stopped him. An awful thought snaked into his mind. “Do you want to sign the divorce papers anyway?”

Alexis placed her small hands on his large ones. “No. It’s the last thing I want.” She smiled at him.

Drake cupped her face, allowing his thumb to draw soft circles around her lips. “I don’t get it. Why are you so sad?”

“I need to ask you for something.” Drake nodded, still tenderly rubbing her face. “I’m sure that I don’t want a divorce. But I’m not ready to move back here yet.” She took a sharp breath. “I never really grieved Tom, you know? I mean, I did all the four first stages. I was furious at first and then hurt and broken at that clinic. But after my depression, I regressed. I realize now that I’ve been in denial for the past three years.”

Drake wiped her tears again and pulled her close to him.

“My therapist didn’t want me to leave the clinic. She said I wasn’t ready, but I wasn’t a danger to myself anymore, so she didn’t have any other choice but to sign my release. I need to do that now. Finish my therapy, be alone, and I’m sure you’re going to roll your eyes at this,” she joked, “but I need time to find myself. I don’t know who I am anymore, Drake. I don’t do any of the things I used to enjoy. And I feel this guilt that I can’t seem to shake. I feel guilty for the pain that I just caused Liam, but I especially feel guilty about us. About all the things I told you that day.”

“Lexie, please. You have to let that go. You weren’t yourself back then -- neither of us was,” Drake said tenderly.

“I still need to forgive myself.” She squeezed his hands. “Please don’t give up on me, Drake. I just need some time. A few months, maybe,” she pleaded with tears in her eyes.  

It hurt like hell, but he understood. Drake took her face between his hands. “Listen to me, baby, because this is very important. I love you. No matter what. No matter what I’ve done or you’ve done. No matter what will happen. I will always love you.” He interrupted himself to give her a soft kiss and rested his forehead against hers. “If I have to wait for you for the rest of my life, I will. I lost you once, but I swear I will never lose you again. Never.” She smiled through her tears. “This is what I wanted. That you chose whatever was best for you. And I think this is it. I’ll be here at the end, loving you. Okay?”

“Thank you, Drake.” She leaned in to kiss him, and he crashed his mouth with hers in a searing, hungry kiss. After a breathless moment, he forced himself to stop. It was clear that Alexis wasn’t ready for anything else. They shared a few more moments together, then Drake walked her back to her car.

She opened the door but stood next to it, torn between her longing to stay and her need to leave.

“I know you need to go through this alone, but promise me that if it’s too much, you’ll call me, Lexie. Day or night.” Drake said as he gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I promise.” Alexis kissed him again, trying to memorize how much she enjoyed his lips on hers, the way he had to kiss her with all his body. Drake held her as close as he could; if he had his way, he would never let her go.

But Alexis was too confused, too rattled by everything that had happened. She needed to claim her independence and regain control of her life before coming back to him. Watching her leave broke his heart, but he knew that she was worth the waiting.

With tears in her eyes, she got in her car and drove away, hoping that she wasn’t making a huge mistake.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The first month was arduous. Coming back to therapy and having to deal with Tom’s death proved to be as challenging as Alexis had thought, but she persisted, determined to get better. She and Drake respected their arrangement and didn’t see each other, but whenever a session became too strenuous, or she was at risk of getting depressed, she called him, and they talked for hours over the phone. Drake told her about his experiences in prison and his life in Spain, and she finally spoke about the long months she had been committed to the clinic and her suicide attempt. Each phone call left them hopeful and terribly nostalgic, but Drake never pressured her.

After two months of intense therapy, Dr. Salas, her psychologist, encouraged her to do something for herself. Alexis immediately knew what she needed. For the next four months, she rented a cottage in Portavira and moved next to the beach. It was a small cottage, but it had a porch where she could sit, watch the ocean, and write every day. During that time, Alexis cried a lot, but she also began to take long walks along the beach, hike and swim in the ocean; the calm of the secluded beach and the soothing sound of the waves had a curative power on her. Alexis missed Drake desperately, more and more with every passing day, but she knew that she needed to finish what she had started before coming back to him.

The first days in Portavira, Alexis only managed to write a few lines, but soon an idea began to form in her mind. At first, she refused it; nothing would be more painful than writing that, but Dr. Salas had suggested that it could be cathartic to explore her grief through her words. One afternoon where Alexis was feeling unusually relaxed, she sat in front of her computer with a cold glass of Chardonnay and started typing. She cried her eyes out with every word, but in the end, she felt like a weight had been lifted from her chest. For the first time since her little boy had died, Alexis accepted that while the pain in her chest would never really disappear, she might be able to be happy again.  

The next morning, she called Charlie, her old boss, and sent her the manuscript.

Drake was quickly regaining his excellent reputation among the owners of Cordonian stables and racetracks. Thoughts about Lexie consumed him day and night, so he spent those six months working like crazy. In his spare time, he read, fished, or rode his horse, but he felt restless all the time. One night after talking to her, an idea crept into his mind. He already knew the perfect place, so he made an offer, and when he got it, he devoted all his free time to making it perfect.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Liam rubbed his eyes tiredly; he had been up working for almost 20 hours straight, trying to figure out a way to bring new investors to Valtoria. He, Hana, and his team had developed a health plan that aimed to offer affordable healthcare to all the duchy’s citizens, but he needed private investors and the help of the Crown to be able to fund it.

At almost 10:00 p.m., Liam leaned against his chair. Hana dropped her pen on the desk and raked her hair with her hands. They both yawned at the same time, which made them chuckle.

“We’re too tired, Hana,” Liam said as he stood up to get a drink from the cart in his office. “Something to drink?”

“Gin, please,” Hana answered, grinning.

Liam couldn’t help but admire how pretty his assistant was. Hana was a special woman; she was smart and kind, and she cared about Valtoria almost as much as he did. He always had fun in her company.

Alexis had left him six months ago. The first two months had been hell; after being in love with her for so long, Liam had had trouble adjusting to the idea that she would never be with him. However, after some time, he realized that Alexis had made the right decision. They weren’t happy together; she had never stopped loving Drake, and he was in love with a woman who no longer existed. Besides, Liam had to admit that he felt lighter and freer without the burden of his constant concern for her. His love for Alexis wasn’t healthy or romantic; it was toxic and harmful for both of them.

Liam handed Hana her gin, smiling at her. “What would you think if I called that place where we had dinner with the French ambassador the other night? We can ask for a couple of Black Truffle Croque Monsieur and some eclairs au chocolat?” he asked playfully, his stomach groaning at the thought.

Hana’s face lit up. “That would be perfect, Liam.”

“You call the restaurant, Hana. I will go look for a bottle of Beaujolais from the cellar.” Liam left his office, grinning. He didn’t know why, but the prospect of spending an intimate moment with Hana made him happier than he had been in a long time.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alexis swam for almost an hour. The cold, tranquil ocean was the only place where she could calm her nerves that morning. After four months on the beach, she was going back to Cordonia that same afternoon, hopefully to stay. Charlie had arranged a public reading in a small bookstore in Cordonia to launch her book, and Alexis had invited Drake - the real reason behind her nervousness that morning. A smile formed on her lips from just the thought of him. When she had called him to invite him to the reading, she hadn’t dared to tell him that she was ready, that she couldn’t wait another minute to be with him. Mostly because she didn’t want to do it over the phone.

But also because a part of her was still scared. There was no doubt in her heart; she loved Drake more than anything. But what if they were able to be happy again and another tragedy struck them? If she had to go through the pain of losing him again, Alexis knew without the shadow of a doubt that she wouldn’t be able to recover.

In addition to all of that, there was something she needed to tell him, and Alexis wasn’t sure how Drake was going to react. She stepped out of the ocean and dried herself. When she got to the house, Alexis went to her closet, thinking about what she was going to wear. Butterflies flapped in her stomach, knowing that she was dressing for him, that if everything went well, she would be in his arms that same night — the feeling of being 19 years old all over again washed over her. After a short shower, she applied light makeup and blow-dried her hair. Before leaving the house, she looked at herself in the mirror. It didn’t matter how scared she was; fear had dominated her life for almost five years. It wouldn’t control another minute of it.

Drake turned on the engine of his jeep, his heart racing thinking about her. He had no idea what her book was about, but Alexis had talked about it with that cute voice she had when she was really thrilled about something. Drake could almost see her face if he closed her eyes: her wide, gorgeous smile and a pink blush covering her cheeks with excitement. During their conversation, she hadn’t said anything about their marriage, but Drake knew she wouldn’t have invited him if she wasn’t ready to be with him again. At least he really hoped so. Before going to the library, he made a quick stop. His project was on the right track. He prepared the last surprise for her and then left for the reading.  

The children’s bookstore that Charlie had picked was perfect. Small and cozy, it had a lounge with two large sofas and colorful cushions. Posters of Tom Sawyer’s books and figurines of the Harry Potter and Narnia universes decorated the walls. The owner had moved an antique armchair to the middle of the room, so the kids and their parents would be surrounding Alexis in a half-circle as she told her story. She was greeting the families that her agent had invited when she heard a familiar voice calling her.

“Blossom!” Maxwell ran to hug her. “I missed you so much; I have a million things to tell you!”

She hugged her best friend back. “Hi, Max! I missed you too. How’s the married life?”

“Perfection. Rashad is the best husband in the world. A total control freak, but I knew that already.”

Alexis laughed. “Anyone seems like a control freak compared to you.”

“I guess that’s true.” Max beamed, looking at her. She was wearing a beige mid-length dress with an oversized camel blazer and nude high heels. “You’re gorgeous, by the way.” Her friend gave her a knowing smile. “Drake is going to drop dead when he sees you.”

She gave her friend an anxious smile. “He isn’t here yet.”

“He’ll be here soon, Lexie. Don’t worry,” Maxwell said, placing his hand on her shoulder.

“Darling, everything looks fabulous.” Olivia kissed both her cheeks. “I’m so proud of you,” she said earnestly.

“Come on, Liv. Don’t make me think you’ve gone soft,” Alexis teased.

“I mean it, Alexis.”

“I know you do,” she replied, squeezing her best friend’s hands. “Thank you.”

Charlie interrupted them. “Please take your seats. You need to start, Alexis.”

Alexis sat in the armchair; she glanced at the door one more time, and there he was, looking shamelessly handsome in a white shirt and jeans. Drake winked at her as he sat on one of the sofas next to her. His boyish grin had the power of rendering her speechless. She swallowed her nervousness and opened the book. Drake noticed that it was signed by Alexis Walker, and his smile got wider.

“Once upon a time, there was a little boy named Tom who lived in a small red cabin in the middle of the woods. Every night before bed, his mom and dad sang him lullabies and told him stories of faraway lands, brave princes, and courageous queens. His best friends were Buttons, a little grey rabbit that followed Tom everywhere he went, and Maxie, an enthusiastic fire truck with a loud voice that only Tom could hear. Tom wanted to travel very far; thus, his dream had always been to conquer the faraway lands his parents described to him every night. One sunny April morning, Tom put his wooden sword and blue cape in his backpack and left, followed by Buttons and Maxie, to live the adventures he had dreamed of.”

Alexis looked up and saw Drake staring at her with glossy eyes. He gave her a soft nod, so she turned her eyes back to the book and kept on reading. Perhaps to avoid thinking about his lost son, Drake’s attention focused on her. He looked at her, enraptured. Alexis’ bright brown eyes were almost shining; her silvery voice had the entire room captivated with her story. The inner light he had always loved in her was back, as bright as before. In only a few months, she had managed to regain control of her life and make her dream come true. Every time he thought that he couldn’t possibly admire or love her more, she surprised him again. He was utterly, hopelessly, crazily in love with her.

“… Tom, Maxie, and Buttons had lived an incredible adventure. Tom missed his mom and dad deeply, but he knew that they were waiting for him in their little red cabin in the middle of the woods and that he’d soon come home.”

Alexis closed the book with watering eyes. “Thank you for coming. This book means a great deal to me.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I hope you enjoyed it. I’ll be happy to answer questions if you have any.”

One woman holding a little girl in her lap raised her hand and asked the question Drake was dreading. “Is Tom’s character based on someone real?”

Charlie had warned Alexis that she needed to be prepared to answer that. She gripped the book and took a deep breath. “Yes, on my son.” After drinking a gulp of water to control herself, she added, “He’s no longer with us.”

Drake smiled at her sadly but reassuringly when the audience went silent for a few seconds.

Maxwell quickly raised his hand. “Um … I just wanted to know if you’re preparing a sequel.”

Alexis gave him a grateful look. “Not at the moment, maybe later. Thank you for your question, sir.”

A little girl in pigtails asked her a question about Buttons, and a blond boy questioned her about Maxie the fire truck.

After she was done answering and signing copies of the book, she went to meet with Drake, Max, and Olivia.

“I loved it, Blossom! I have to say that Maxie the fire truck is the best character. He seems to be the smartest, funniest, cutest one of them all. Certainly much more than the evil Queen Nevrakis,” Maxwell beamed as Olivia shook her head, for once, more amused than annoyed.

A sudden silence made Olivia realise that Drake and Alexis were looking at each other longingly. She cleared her throat. “I have a date with Jin tonight, so we better get going, Max.”

Maxwell beamed as he hugged both of them. It was unquestionable for anyone who knew them that Drake and Alexis belonged with each other, and nothing could make Max happier than to see them together again. “I’m so happy for you guys! See you soon!”

They both chuckled; Drake brushed Alexis’ hand with his, slowly intertwining his fingers with hers.

“Did you like it?” Alexis asked Drake timidly.

“It was wonderful. The way you described him was simply perfect.” Drake threw her a small smile. “It was our Tom. I admire you so much, Lexie. Thank you for this; I needed it too.” They locked eyes with each other, both their hearts racing.

“I’m ready, Drake,” Alexis blurted out and immediately felt the blush in her cheeks, her heart beating furiously in her chest.  

“Are you sure you’re ready to come with me?” he asked her with his deep voice, an intense longing in his eyes.

“As long as you still want me to,” Alexis gave him a coquettish smile.

He tightened his grip on her hand. “Always, Lexie.” The loving look she gave him back was enough to drive him wild. Drake looked around him; they were in a children’s bookstore surrounded by kids and Alexis’ old boss. Probably not the best place to kiss her as he was dying to.

“I have a surprise for you,” he whispered sheepishly.

Alexis arched her brows. “Really? What is it?” she asked excitedly.

Drake smirked. “A surprise has to be unexpected. As a writer, aren’t you supposed to know definitions of words and shit?”

“Smartass,” she laughed. “I just need to say good-bye to Charlie really quick, and we can go.”

When they got into the car, Drake leaned to her seat and cupped her beautiful face. She let out a soft gasp when he kissed both her cheeks, the corners of her lips, her nose. “I’m going to spend the rest of the night, of my life, kissing every part of you, baby,” he growled in her ear.

If Alexis waited another minute, she would’ve imploded right there, so she crashed her lips on his, making him groan with want. Drake pressed her body against the seat, but an annoying thought made him stop. “Our first time after all this time will not be in the passenger seat of my jeep, Lexie.”

Alexis bit her bottom lip. “Let’s go,” she urged him.

After a short drive, Drake pulled over on the side of the highway. He grabbed a silk tie from the back seat. “I need to cover your eyes.”

“It’s dark, and we’re in the middle of the woods, Walker. Are you trying to kidnap me?” she asked with a flirty tone.

A smug grin spread on his lips. “Actually, that is exactly what I’m going to do. Turn around.” Gently, he placed the tie around her head and tied a knot. “No peeking, Lex,” he said, kissing her head.

She shook her head, now too excited to speak.

After a few minutes, they arrived, and Drake helped Alexis to get out of the car. The feeling of walking in an unknown place with her eyes covered could’ve made someone nervous, but there was no one Alexis trusted more in the world than Drake; he would rather die than let something happen to her. They walked a few inches with him firmly holding her. When they stopped, he pulled her back against his chest, circling her waist with his arm. He leaned to speak in her ear. “Six months ago, in one of our phone calls, you told me how difficult it’d be for you to live in the cabin again. That you would love to start our lives somewhere else.”

Alexis nodded.

“That day, I recalled how much you loved that abandoned house next to the lake. It was small and run down, but you fell completely in love with it. Remember?”

“I do,” she said with a lump in her throat.

They were taking a stroll next to the lake when Alexis saw it. The house was almost in ruins, but according to her, it had significant potential. As it was clearly uninhabited and there was a window open on the ground floor, she climbed through it; Drake followed her, chuckling, with Tom in his arms. Once inside, he had to admit that the house did show promise. They would have to spend a lot of weekends renovating it, but he loved manual work and was sure Alexis would make it as cozy and comfortable as she had made his father’s cabin. Back in their own place, they daydreamed about buying the house and renovating it. She drew a small sketch of what she pictured: a huge kitchen where they could both cook together, a swing for Tom to play, a porch to watch the sunset, and a main room with a skylight where they could see the stars every night. It would take some time and a lot of effort, but they thought the house was worth it. When Drake was about to make an offer to the real estate agency, tragedy overcame them, and they forgot all about it.

Drake uncovered her eyes, and she gasped. They were standing in front of the house, but it had changed. Drake had spent the last five months working on it every minute of his spare time. The old washed-out exterior was now a beautiful wooden façade with a large, wide-pillared porch in the front.

He held her tightly. “Now this is the exterior. There’s still a lot of renovation work to do inside. You’ll see.”

Alexis had happy tears in her eyes. “I … I can’t believe you did this, Drake. It’s gorgeous.” She turned around, and he cupped her face and gave her an intense, searing kiss.

“Come on, I want to show you the rest,” he said when they finally parted, breathless. Drake grabbed her hand, and they laced their fingers together.

They stepped into the house, and even if Drake was right and the first floor still needed a lot of work, Alexis wandered around happily with her heart full. “I love the kitchen! We can have a large counter here,” she said, pointing to one side of the room. “What would you think about a thick wood table?”

Alexis’ face reflected so much excitement and enthusiasm that Drake couldn’t help but grin at it. His gaze followed her as she pranced all over the house with a thousand ideas of how to renovate every corner of it.

“So I gather you like it?” he asked, arching an amused eyebrow.

“Like it? I love it, Drake! It’s perfect. I’d like to move here as soon as possible!”

Drake couldn’t help but smile tenderly at her. “Are you sure? We can stay in the cabin for a few more months while we do the renovation work here.”

“If the water is running, I’d prefer to stay here,” she answered with an earnest smile. “This is us, Drake. Ours. A new life together. I’m not running from our past, and I never want to forget Tom,” she said, brushing a small tear with her hand. “I just want to start over in a place where we can create new memories.”

“If that’s really what you think, there’s a room that’s already finished.” He threw her a quizzical smile. “Do you remember the drawing you did of how we pictured our house?”

Alexis let out a spontaneous laugh that made Drake's heart leap. “I would barely call the doodles I made drawings, but I remember the moment, yes.”

“Well, I hope I did the doodles justice.” Drake held his breath as he opened the door.

Alexis gasped; he had remembered everything she had dreamed of. A soft, fluffy carpet. A big bed full of cushions, a fireplace warming the room, and the skylight over the bed. The moon and stars lit up the whole room through it.

Mesmerized, she took off the blazer she was wearing, and Drake’s eyes widened. The beige dress she had underneath was tight and hugged every single curve of her body. Suddenly, Drake was very aware of the taunting way she moved; she turned her back on him to look at the fireplace, and his eyes went straight to her bare upper back and the delicate line of her neck. Blushing, he moved to readjust himself. Her thrilled voice pulled him out of his thoughts.  

“I love it, Drake. Every single part of it! The skylight is exactly how I’d imagined it!” He took off his own jacket and rolled up his sleeves. “What?” she asked, catching her bottom lip between her teeth when she realized he was looking intently at her.

“Are you wearing that for me?” Drake’s low baritone and sexy smile made her blush crimson red.

“Maybe,” she answered with the most innocent look in her eyes but a sultry voice.

Drake cut the distance between them; even with her sexy nude heels, he towered over her. “Don’t give me that innocent look, baby,” he growled. “Or I won’t be able to control myself.”

Alexis leaned towards him, her hands playing with his collar. “See, Drake, that’s the thing. I don’t want you to control yourself.”

He swept her off her feet. She looped his neck in a burst of roaring laughter. “I want you so fucking much, Lexie,” he told her as he gently dropped her on the bed. Their bed. He hovered over her, holding his weight up with his right arm.

She hid her nose on his neck, inhaling the intoxicating sandalwood. “Me too, Drake.”

“You deserve the world,” Drake said, staring at her almost black eyes looking at him adoringly. He wanted nothing more than to make this night last as long as he possibly could. “It’s been four years that I’ve been thinking about this moment,” he said, gently kissing her cheek. “Four years that I’ve dreamed of making you mine again.” He growled at her ear as he nipped it. “And now, I finally have you here --” He softly bit her neck. “-- all for myself.” He kissed her collarbone as he slowly unzipped her dress. “This damn dress is making me wild, Lexie.”

As he rubbed his thumb on her lips and cheeks, Alexis’ heart beat so fast, she was sure he could hear it. Finally, he kissed her, and time stopped. His lips felt so soft on hers, his tongue so passionate when it slowly entered her mouth, intertwining with hers. His strong hand cupped her head as he deepened the kiss. Suddenly the need became urgent, and he moved to her neck, possessed by the need to claim her. Drake softly sank his teeth in her, making an exhilarated moan escape from her throat.

Slowly, he pulled the dress’ front zipper down, peppering sultry kisses on every inch of skin he discovered, until only her lacy underwear was left. He pulled her to him and kissed her senseless as he unclasped her bra. Her beautiful breasts appeared, her buds erect, ready for him to kiss them. Drake softly flicked his thumbs over them. Then his tongue tasted them, taking pleasure in the sight of Alexis arching her back for him. He took a deep breath until all he could smell was her cherry fragrance. With a cocky smile, he pulled down her last piece of underwear, leaving her completely exposed and vulnerable to him.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, Lexie,” he groaned as his eyes wandered over her body lit up by the moonlight, and his calloused hands moved down her body, rubbing her face, her breasts, her hips, a trail of excited goosebumps appearing everywhere he touched. “And you are all mine.”

Alexis gave him a flirty smile. “I want to see you too, Drake.” She softly pushed him up until they were both on their knees.

The sight of her naked, kneeling in front of him and undressing him with nervous fingers, desperate to kiss him, to touch him too, almost killed him. She undid his jeans and let her hand wander around his cock. He drank in the sight of her, enjoying her soft, small hand around him for a moment. Her soft, skilled strokes on his impossible hard length felt incredible, but after all the months, the years they had spent apart, he wasn’t going to last long if she continued. “I won’t be able to resist much longer, baby.” He grabbed her wrist. “And there are a lot, a lot of things, I want to do to you first. Lay down,” he growled, standing up to toss off the rest of his clothes.

Alexis felt like she was on fire, ready to explode. Drake’s lips kissing her legs, her knees, and her inner thighs only made the fire wilder. She gripped the sheets when she felt his hot mouth on her, kissing the soft skin around her clit.  

“It drives me insane how wet you already are for me, Lex,” he said, parting her lips with his tongue and softly entering her, inebriating himself with her taste.

“Drake, god! Drake,” she chanted again and again as his expert tongue and fingers explored her, thrust inside of her. Feeling the heat build more and more, she tugged his hair, making him smile against her warm skin. Finally, she reached a point of no return and screamed his name again.

Drake smirked. “Fuck, I’ve missed that, baby.”

Still panting, she managed to answer in a soft voice. “Me too, Drake.” Drake caught her lips in a slow, tender kiss as she came down from her high.

“Come here,” he whispered, scooping her and sitting her in his lap. Alexis straddled him, enveloping his torso with her legs. Cradling her with his arms, Drake’s desperate lips ravaged her neck, alternating soft kisses with small bites. Her back arched, giving him full access to her breasts that he cupped, his thumbs slowly circling her hard nipples again. Alexis rolled her hips against him.

Drake chuckled against her neck. “Are you trying to tell me something, Lexie?”

“I need you now, Drake,” she moaned. His cock was already throbbing, but he felt like he was going to burst at her words

“Whatever you want, Alexis.” He positioned himself with the tip of his dick, teasing the little nub of her center. “Look at me, baby. I want to see your pretty eyes as I enter you.”

She locked her burning eyes with him, and he grabbed her hips, confidently guiding her body to enter her folds slowly, giving her time to adjust to him.

The world, the moon, and the stars, everything around them faded. Each set of eyes only saw each other, reflecting the passion, the excitement, the deep love they felt.

“I love you, Lexie,” Drake whispered as he slowly moved inside of her, adoring her smell, the way she moved, how she moaned his name.

“I love you too, Drake,” Alexis whispered back, reveling in the sensation of him filling her completely. Of her heart racing with every delicious thrust. Of his strong arms holding her tightly, safely. Of his hands caressing her back. “I feel you everywhere, Drake, god.”

They rocked their hips at the same pace, increasing speed as their movements became more passionate, more desperate. He ground into her powerfully, feeling her walls tighten around him. The sensation was unbelievable, an exceptional connection that neither of them could ever experience with anyone else. “Come with me, baby,” he whispered as his hand reached her center, allowing his thumb to rub the little nub in it, making her lose her mind. Alexis couldn’t formulate a coherent thought, let alone talk, as the most intense wave of pleasure of her life came cresting over her. A powerful “Drake!” escaped her lips as she climaxed.

His name on her swollen lips and the way she was still vibrating against him pushed him over the edge.

“Mine, Lexie, mine,” he growled, marking her neck as he filled her in complete ecstasy.

He pulled her into his chest, both of them silently enjoying their descent from heaven.

He held her tightly, kissing the top of her head as he lazily rubbed her back, incapable to stop touching her.

“A penny for your thoughts, Lexie.”

She looked at him through her eyelashes, smiling.

“I was just thinking about how absolutely perfect this was.” She stroked his chiseled abs with her hand.

He smirked. “You’re perfect, baby. A fucking work of art.”

Alexis smiled against his chest, a pleasant feeling of utter happiness settling in her chest.

Part of the night was spent with tender whispers, passionate touches, and shared laughs. The rest, they spent rediscovering every nook and hidden corner of each other’s bodies as if they were trying to recoup the last five years in a few hours. Finally, the morning lights caught them sleeping tangled in each other’s bodies. Drake opened his eyes first, smiling as he hadn’t done in five years.

“Good morning, baby,” he whispered in her ear, waking her up.

“Nuh, uh, too early.” She hid her head under the pillow.

“You have to see this, Lexie. Wake up,” he said softly, kissing her bare back.

“God, I’ve forgotten how good you are at motivating a girl.”

Drake chuckled. “Come here.”

Wrapped in the sheets with Drake hugging her tightly from behind, Lexie sat on the porch in front of the lake, and she understood why he had woken her up. In front of her eyes, a sumptuous spectacle of pink, ochre and golden sun rays extended over the glowing lake. It was the most stunning sunrise she had ever seen.

“There’s something I need to tell you that might change your mind about us,” Alexis warned him cautiously. She bit her lips, feeling remorseful. She should have discussed it the day before, but selfishly, she had wanted to enjoy the night with Drake.

He almost laughed at the idea. “Nothing would change my mind, Lexie. Test me.”

She took a deep breath and let the sentence out as fast as she could. “I don’t know if I ever want any more children, but I don’t think so.” She carefully gauged his reaction as she asked. “Do you?”

“I don’t know,” he answered sincerely. “I didn’t for a long time; I was adamant. ” He looked tenderly at her. “Now, I’m not so sure, but I do know that the idea scares the shit out of me.”

Alexis let out a relieved breath. “Me too.”

“I’ll tell you this. We’ll revisit the idea in a few years, but we won’t do it unless we’re both sure. Deal?”

“And what if I don’t change my mind, and you do?” she asked worriedly.

“Then we won’t, Lexie. All I want out of life I have right here,” he said, holding her even tighter. “Nine years ago, in my vows, I told you that I loved the fire in your eyes and how much you love life. I told you that I would always take care of that gorgeous inner light of yours. But I didn’t do a great job.” Alexis was about to protest, but Drake put his thumb on her lips, smiling. "I promise that I’ll devote the rest of my life to making you happy. I’m so proud of you, of everything you are, Lexie. I love you more than I did back then, much more.” He opened his palm, where he had their wedding rings in his hand. “I always knew that one day we would be wearing these again, Mrs. Walker.”

Alexis beamed. “I love you, too. You have no idea how much. For years, I felt lifeless, and now just looking at you, my heart hammers, Drake. You take away the emptiness, the sadness. You make me so incredibly happy.”

A bittersweet tear escaped from her eyes when she extended her hand and watched, immensely moved, how Drake slid her wedding band and engagement ring on her finger. Then she put his on.

Relieved, she turned her head up and caught his lips in a delicious, deep kiss.

Drake noticed a small, tiny tear. “What’s up, Lexie?”

“I was really convinced that I could never feel this extremely elated again, and now that I do, I also feel …” She stopped in her tracks.

“Guilty. You feel guilty for feeling happy.”

She nodded slowly.

“Me too.” Drake rubbed her cheek with his hand. “I think we have to learn to live with that, baby. Tom will always be here. He’ll always hurt.”

Alexis snuggled against him as Drake drew her into his arms. A loving smile spread on her lips; no matter how difficult or painful their grief would be in the future, they would be facing it togther.

The End.

[bsnsheebb]

riley lyon

past

Riley Lyon never knew her mother.  The woman ran off when her baby’s age was closer to a month than a year; leaving her young husband and child to figure out their own path.  For a little while it was just the two of them... but what Riley’s childhood lacked in funding and company, her father made up for in fun; baking cookies and wrestling on the floor of their one-bedroom apartment.  She may not have had a mother, but her dad was determined to love her so much she wouldn’t even notice the absence.

power

The dreams started when Riley turned six.  Night after night she would wake up terrified; tortured by the strangest nightmares that no children’s therapist could explain.  She started sleep walking -- wandering through the alleyways around their apartment building.  Sometimes she would just scream, and scream, until she woke up with tears streaming down her face.  Her father didn’t know what to do.  He researched night terrors and tried not to think too hard about what kind of sleep disorder could possibly make his little girl’s voice strong enough to shatter all of the light bulbs in her room.

hidden

After two years of fruitlessly searching for answers, he met a man who called himself a “druid”, which Sam Lyon roughly translated to mean mentally insane.  But her desperate father was willing to listen if there was a chance he could help Riley.  The Druid said that there was more to the world he lived in than he knew; there was more to the world than met the eye. Werewolves, witches, vampires...banshees.  Banshees.  

Sam wasn’t ready for a magical world.  He wanted normality; he just wanted for his daughter to sleep through the night.  The Druid tried to convince him to train his daughter, but to no avail.  Sam was afraid; he wanted to hide her for as long as he could, consequences be damned. It took some convincing - fighting - but the Druid reluctantly gave him materials that could help suppress the “symptoms” of the supernatural that she was presenting.  

running

The Lyons promptly moved across the ocean to France, searching for a fresh start.  The “pills” he was given by the Druid worked to suppress Riley’s banshee powers, but for all they could do...they couldn’t keep her from the supernatural, not completely.  After an incident in Paris, Sam would have to finally tell his daughter about the Supernatural world; or the wolves, at least. That night, Riley learned all about the Lycans -- the great mysteries of the other side -- but Sam managed to keep the rest of the Supernatural under wraps.  

They settled in Aix-en-Provence and Riley -- to her father’s exasperation -- became close with a local pack.  She started to smile again; to sleep through the night like she didn’t even remember the times when she could barely get a few hours.  As for her father? He was just happy to not be sweeping up broken glass or leading his daughter home from graveyards in the middle of the night.

endings

Nearly two years ago, sixteen-year-old Riley was excused from classes after getting progressively more and more ill as the day went on.  Her stomach felt tight; there was an unbearable pressure in her head, and her whole body was freezing cold. The nurse hadn’t been able to diagnose her with anything, so she sent the slight blonde girl home...but as soon as she stepped outside of the school, she blacked out.  

When Riley became aware of her surroundings again, she was kneeling over her dad’s body. 

Screaming at the top of her lungs.

The police municipale classified it as a mugging gone wrong; their words fell upon deaf ears.  Riley was too numb to process the “stab wound...” The “wrong place wrong time;" their “deepest apologies.”  Nothing mattered to Riley anymore; not that they caught the man who did it, or that she would have to appear in court.  Not even the notice that she was going to be sent back to America, to a small town in California where her great aunt lived. Nothing could shake her; not anymore.

She didn’t care about the future.  Everything she cared about was already gone.  

beacon hills

The next two years saw nothing but hard times for Riley.  She grieved; she cried so hard she thought she’d never stop. She felt the pain every single day, until it started to hurt just a little bit less.

Her great aunt was a bitter and cruel woman, who deeply resented being stuck with a grieving teenager.  After the few months, Amelia decided that she may be required to house her niece, but she did not have to provide for her.  She stopped buying groceries for the house...refused to pay for anything for Riley.  Amelia became rough and even more harsh than the day she opened her door to greet her niece.  

Every day stuck in that house, practically starving -- alone -- Riley longed to escape.  She threw herself into school work, and volunteering at Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital as a candy striper.  

The hospital gig would change her life.

mccalls

Riley met Melissa McCall about a week into her candy striping job, and for some odd, blessed reason, the woman took a liking to her.  She must have mentioned the scrappy little blonde to her son at home, because soon enough Riley found Scott McCall waiting by her locker with a kind crooked smile.  They became like family to her.  They would never replace her dad, of course, but something new formed with the family she would come to call her own; something just as special as the bond she held with her father.

After Amelia’s starved her -- practically tortured her -- Riley lost weight that she really couldn’t afford to lose in the first place.  It became obvious enough that Melissa and Scott noticed, and holy shit, Riley didn’t realize that kindness could be so scary.  The day that Scott felt her ribs protruding when he hugged her after picking her up from photography club was the last she spent in Amelia Lyon’s house.  Minor status be damned.  

present

And when everything seemed good- it started to fall apart.  Maybe it’s because Riley finally felt safe.  For the first time since her dad died, she felt some semblance of peace.  She had the McCalls, her freshman year of college, and a future that finally seemed bright again...but now the nightmares are back.  Riley screams herself awake; sometimes she sleepwalks her way through Beacon Hills.  It makes her feel like she’s six years old again; but little does she know that her sleeping problems are much more serious than a nightmare. 

They’re her banshee powers finally manifesting.  

At first it’s nothing  -- just nightmares -- but soon she begins to feel haunted constantly; her own nightmares chasing her into daylight.  It's almost to be expected after losing her dad so traumatically --after being hurt by her aunt -- but it’s getting worse.  Riley wakes up in the mornings with bags under her eyes, tear tracks on her cheeks; on the worst days she doesn’t even wake up in her bed.  She’s seeing and hearing things that aren’t there; struck with the strangest feelings that make her hands shake, make her blood run cold. 

Riley’s trying.  She’s trying to sleep, trying to keep smiling, trying to avoid a one way ticket to Eichen.  But these nightmares, these feelings, they’re so dark...they feel heavy.

 Inevitable.

future

Banshees predict death.  And in Beacon Hills, death is never far away.

[lj-todd]

Challenge: Catelyn Stark survives the red wedding and makes her way to the wall because she had nowhere else to go and finds herself under the protection of the bastard she hated. She also lives long enough to see Jon crowned king and learn the truth of his parentage. May she drown in guilt. Does her survival somehow help convince her uncle to bring the Tully army to help retake Winterfell? Will she and Jon reconcile? I dont know.

It had been luck, and a bold, self-sacrificing knight of the Riverlands that had gotten Catelyn out of the Twins, that had saved her from being slaughtered alongside her son and those loyal to him. It had been further luck, or the will of the gods, that a man of the Night’s Watch, one of their wandering crows, had found her and make the choice to take her to the Wall.There she had been left in what served as the great hall, wrapped in a warm blanket with a bowl of stew, while a young man, Samwell Tarly he’d introduced himself as, went to fetch the Lord Commander. She sat there, broken, unable to push away the memory of the sight of Robb’s lifeless body, suddenly startled from her thoughts when something bumped her arm.Looking, she was shocked to find the white direwolf, bigger now than even Robb’s Grey Wind, standing beside her, watching her with that odd red gaze. Jon’s wolf, Ghost, the boy had called him. She reached out with a shaky hand, running her fingers through thick white fur and Ghost nudged her hand with his nose before turning, laying so he was facing the door. As though he understood she had no other protection.“Lady Stark?”

The voice, familiar yet sounding so uncertain, drew her gaze from the quiet wolf.Standing in the doorway the young Tarly boy had disappeared through was the last person she had ever expected to see again. Dressed all in black, face marked by scars, looking almost the very image of her Ned, stood Jon Snow.She did not know what possessed her to do it. Her grief, perhaps, the loss of all she had loved, all she had held dear, or if it was because the boy looked so much like Ned or if it was the memory of how much her husband and children had loved this boy, but she suddenly found herself standing and crossing to him. When she wrapped her arms around him she broke. Sobbing as she clung to him. Her words, spoken to her son’s wife, rang through her head.“All this horror has come to my family because I couldn’t keep my promise. Because I couldn’t love a motherless child.”Jon held her, his embrace warm and strong, letting her cry, letting her grieve, until she was finally able to compose herself. Or at least as much as she could given the situation. He listened when she told him what had happened, what had been done to Robb and, for the first time, she saw a rage in his eyes, fierce as a winter storm but burning like wildfire.“I want to avenge him,” he had admitted to her, quietly, as though afraid to speak the words too loudly. “I want to avenge my father. I…I should have ridden south…should have joined Robb in his war…but my vows…” His hands clenched tightly and he looked at her with those grey Stark eyes. Ned’s eyes. “I will let no further harm come to you, Lady Stark. I swear, to the Old Gods and your Seven, that so long as I draw breath nothing will stop me from protecting you.”And he kept that vow. Had a room prepared for her, ordered that her presence was to be kept secret. It was safer, he reasoned, with the support of the Tarly boy and Maester Aemon, if the world believed she had perished at the Red Wedding.Months passed. Things changing in the blink of an eye. Stannis came, answering a call for support from Jon against Mance’s Wildling army, and left again with plans to retake Winterfell from the Boltons. A mission that failed they were told by Stannis’ red witch. Jon went beyond the Wall with the Wildlings, returning with horrifying tales of White Walkers and the Night’s King. And then, perhaps most disturbing, was the betrayal of men sworn to Jon as Lord Commander. Seeing the boy, seeing Ned’s son lain on that table, pale and still in death, had nearly broken her and she’d raged and screamed, begging for the gods to give him back. To not take the another piece of her husband and son from her. For Ned and Robb had loved Jon. They had love him as he had loved them. She could not stand the loss of him.Whether it was her prayers or the red witch’s magic, Jon did return, haunted by his own death for a time but, in the end, he showed Stark honor by passing sentence on those who had murdered him. And, as Ned had taught him, he swung the sword to cut them down. And then came the day Lady Brienne arrived with Sansa. The reunion with her daughter, who had thought her dead, was more than Catelyn had ever hoped for and seeing how Sansa clung to Jon, how her daughter begged him to help take back Winterfell, their home, spurred her into action.She wrote a letter to her uncle at Riverrun. She wrote to Lords of the Vale, beseeching them as the sister of their late Lady, and she wrote to Lords of the North and the Neck as the Lady of Winterfell. She had seen Jon command, had seen the loyalty he inspired in men, those of the Watch and the Wildlings, and she would do all she could to raise an army for him. To aid him as he fought to take back their home.And it was their home. He might not be her son but he was Ned’s. And he should have hated her for how she had treated how, for how she had constantly reminded him that he did not belong, he should have cast her to the wolves when she first was brought to him, and he would have been justified. But he had sheltered her. Had protected her.She, like Jon and Sansa, had been surprised at the numbers that rallied to them. The people who rallied to restore House Stark to its rightful place. To see justice done to the Boltons for their part in the betrayal of House Stark. She was even more surprised when, with the battle won, with Winterfell reclaimed and the Stark banners once more flying, when Jon was, as Robb had been, declared King in the North by the people of the North.He was a hesitant King, at first, uncertain if he should be ruler, more so because he was bastard born, but he came into his own as King.Catelyn was wary when Jon went to meet with the Targaryen girl calling herself Queen. Wary when he took only a handful of men, though he wisely took the loyal Ser Davos, but had had no choice but to watch him go. Remembering how, nearly twenty years ago now, she had watched Ned ride off, not certain if he would ever come back.She busied herself with helping Sansa rule Winterfell in Jon’s absence. Helped tend to the people, both Northerner and Wildling alike, and, when Arya suddenly returned to her, when Bran returned, both thought lost forever, she went into the Sept Ned had had built for her and prayed. Thanking the Seven for sparing her children. Thanking them for reuniting her with them. And then she prayed for Jon. She prayed for his safety. For his return. She prayed that the death to the far North was defeated and that her family would be spared more suffering.She was with Bran when the Tarly boy, who had gone to Oldtown to study to be a Maester for the Watch, arrived with news that Bran, who had grown strange in his time away, his time beyond the Wall, was not surprised by. News that bore the name of Jon’s mother.Catelyn, after listening to the two young men, seeing the evidence the Tarly boy had, had gone to the crypts and stood before her husband’s. She understood, perhaps, why he had hidden the truth. Even from her. His sense of honor likely telling him that, if she did not know, then she would be safe if the truth was ever learned. It was a stupid decision. When she left his crypt she moved down the corridor to a crypt she had never visited.Lyanna Stark’s statue was, Ned had once claimed, a poor likeness of her and Catelyn could scarcely remember the girl she had met once, during her betrothal to Brandon, to be certain if it was or wasn’t. But standing there, looking at the stone face of a girl that a war had been waged over, she suddenly found herself dropping to her knees, fresh tears spilling down her face.“Forgive me,” she sobbed softly, voice shaking, staring up at the statue’s face. “Forgive me. I…I did not know…Ned…he never told me. It is no excuse, not truly, for…for all I did…what I prayed to happen to…to your son…” She closed her eyes for a moment, picturing how things might have been different if Ned had told her the truth. If she had been able to love Jon because loving him, claiming him as her own, would have served as protection. Had she known his true parentage she could have, would have, shielded him from the world by declaring him to be her child. Her son. She could have accepted him before her family was ripped apart. She could have loved him sooner.Opening her eyes, Catelyn drew a deep, shaky breath, still staring up at Lyanna’s stone face.“I will do all I can…in Ned’s stead…to protect your son.” She reached up, hands touching the cool stone of the statue. “I swear…by the gods, Old and New, I will…I will do all I can to…to right my wrongs…I will…I will help him be a good king because…because he is already a good man. A man you would be proud to…to call son, Lyanna. Ned raised him well. I…I wish I had known…I wish I had been a better woman…but I still have time…time to do better. To make certain your son…our children…our House…survives whatever else is still to come.”Catelyn slowly rose, standing there before her sister-by-law’s crypt a moment longer, silently repeating her vow to protect and help Jon. To continue to try and mend the damage she had done before. She would never be completely absolved of her guilt, and she did not feel she should be, for she had been deeply unkind to an innocent child, but she could do right by the man that child had grown to be.

[taexual]

BTS / Their S/O has a miscarriage PT. 2

Request: Could you maybe do a part 2 to the BTS miscarriage reaction? Like, the members are wanting to try again for another baby but you are a little hesitant.

PART ONE is here

not all of these fit your request, love, but i tried to make this somewhat realistic after what happened in the first part, and i hope you still enjoy!

WARNING: topics of miscarriage & some strong language

Jin

It took Jin a while to find a way to deal with his emotions after your miscarriage and, in all honesty, if Hoseok hadn’t given him a kick in the ass, he probably would have still kept his distance from you.

He didn’t know why he avoided you. He just thought it was easier to handle himself at his lowest when you weren’t near him. Maybe he didn’t want you to see him like this. Or maybe he didn’t want to see you suffer as much as he did.

Whatever it was, Jin was back home now. And he had a hard time choosing words to say to you.

“Y/n…” he sighed, sitting on the bed right next to you but feeling as if there was an entire world between you. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” you answered in a small voice.

“No, you have nothing to apologize for,” Jin stopped you, desperately aching to touch you, but not daring to move. “I shouldn’t have left you like that.”

You took a deep breath, wanting to just move past this because acknowledging the pain you had to go through without him was too difficult. “I understand. It was hard for you.”

“Yeah, it was. But it was hard for you, too,” Jin said, turning to look at you for the first time since he came back home. “We’ll get through this, won’t we? I’ll do whatever it takes to make it up to you, Y/n.”

You weren’t sure what he meant when he said that.

“You won’t make up for the child that we lost. That I lost,” you said, feeling his gaze but not meeting his eyes. “I’m afraid that it’s something that will always haunt us.”

Jin may have felt broken but he never lost hope that things would get better. He firmly believed that he would move on from this and continue living. You would, too. Now, however, he realized that you did not share the same hope.

“No, my love,” he jumped up from the bed until he was squatting in front of you and took your hands into his. The feeling of finally touching you again caused his head to spin and he nearly lost his balance. “It will not haunt us. We’ll try again. Okay?”

You looked at him but the sincerity in his eyes was not enough to convince you that you were ready to go through all of this again. “I don’t know.”

Jin knew you for a long time to understand your emotions without you having to voice them, so he didn’t need to hear you say it to be able to tell that you were afraid.

“I’m not leaving you anymore,” he promised. “No matter what. I learned my lesson the hard way. Seeing you suffer hurts me far more than any kind of pain I’m going through. I’ll be by your side until you’re ready and I promise you, you and I will have a child one day. Whether it’s in nine months, or in nine years.”

Suga

Yoongi was gone for two months after your miscarriage. The two of you have mended your hearts but you broke again as soon as you reunited. It wasn’t just the pain of losing your child that burdened you now. It was the pain of losing Yoongi, too.

He was there with you now. He was back. But the feeling that he would leave again followed you wherever you went.

He constantly checked up on you. He apologized every ten minutes or whenever he’d see your glazed eyes as you drifted away from reality and hid inside of your mind. The loss of your child and Yoongi’s absence was breaking your family apart and he had no idea how to fix it all.

“Y/n… I’m sorry,” he said for the umpteenth time that day. “Is there anything I can do to make this easier for you?”

You blinked a few times, returning to the present. “Oh, Yoongi, no. You need to stop apologizing.”

“I can’t,” he responded. “I see how much you’re hurting and I want to do something to help.”

“You’re hurting, too,” you replied. “Isn’t that why you needed to be alone for that long?”

Yoongi visibly cringed, pulling away from you – not that he was particularly close to you in the first place – and nodding to himself. It was partially his fault that you were in this much pain. Not even Namjoon, who looked after you when Yoongi wasn’t there, could take that pain away.

“Do you think we’d get through this easier if we tried again?” Yoongi asked slowly. “Maybe a baby is what we need to heal.”

You turned to look at him, frowning. “I don’t think so. I think we need to heal before we even consider trying again. I don’t want a child to be born into a broken family.”

Yoongi clenched his jaw. “A-are we broken?”

“I don’t know,” you said, looking away from him. “I hope not.”

He didn’t reply and instead sighed deeply. Getting back on your feet was going to be a long process but now Yoongi knew better than to go through it alone. You didn’t just need a shoulder you could lean on. You needed him.

“We’ll be okay,” Yoongi whispered, unsure if you heard him. “We’re just a little bent. But we’ll be okay.”

J-Hope

It took Hoseok some time before he managed to talk to you about anything. It took him even longer to address the miscarriage. He knew Jungkook watched over you while he struggled with himself, but in the end, Hoseok realized that Jungkook – however helpful he was – was not really what you needed to recover.

You were better, Hoseok could see that and he owed Jungkook his life for being there for you when he couldn’t, but it seemed as though whenever you saw Hoseok, all of your sadness returned. It was as if no progress was made and he was suddenly afraid that his presence reminded you of the child you’ve lost.

“Y/n,” he told you one night, stopping for a moment to choose his next words carefully. “Can we talk?”

“Yeah, sure,” you replied, ignoring your rapidly beating heart. “About what?”

“About us,” he answered.

“Oh.”

He didn’t like the pain that hid in your voice as you said this one syllable, but he still entered the room and sat down at the kitchen table next to you.

“Do you think we should do something about us?” Hoseok said, sitting next to you but not looking at you. “We barely talk. We barely even see each other.”

Something definitely had to be done. You couldn’t possibly keep living like this when your husband refused to acknowledge your miscarriage, and his best friend was actually the one comforting you because he saw that you suffered a loss, too.

“What do you want to do?” you asked quietly.

“I have no idea. Get to know each other again? Work on us? Try for another baby?”

Hoseok must have seen you flinch when you mentioned another baby, so he quickly added, “…or not.”

“What if this happens again?” you said after taking a deep breath. “I don’t want to go through the same thing all over again, Hoseok. You’d disappear from my life and Jungkook doesn’t deserve the pressure to constantly be there for me. He has his own life.”

“I…” Hoseok couldn’t find the words that would explain how incredibly sorry he was for not finding a way to grieve without leaving you. “I’m sorry.”

You nodded, unsure what you should say to that. “I’m sorry, too.”

“It’s not your fault,” Hoseok responded immediately. “I wasn’t good enough for you. I-I should have stayed with you all through it. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. I know I can’t take any of it back, but I would if I could. I never thought I’d experience something like that in my life and I did not know what to do. I know that doesn’t make it any better but… I truly love you, Y/n. And I know you and I will have children in the future. I’m sure of it.”

RM

Couples therapy was a thing that only existed in movies. Never in your life did you think you’d sit in the waiting room of a therapist with your husband at your side. The two of you didn’t know how to communicate anymore after your miscarriage. Namjoon disappeared, leaving Taehyung to take care of you, and when he actually returned, nothing was the same anymore.

You knew that what you and Namjoon had was meaningful and the two of you have been together for too long to just throw all of it away. You could work this out but you need help from an outsider.

There was a couples therapy poster on the wall in front of you, depicting a man and a woman, sitting on the opposite ends of the couch and looking displeased. You glanced at Namjoon – who was seated opposite the room from you – and sighed deeply. Even the couple in the poster looked happier than you and Namjoon did.

“Namjoon and Y/n?” a nurse popped out of the doctor’s office and watched you and your husband stand up with a professional smile on her face. “Come in. The doctor will be with you shortly.”

Both of you entered a smaller waiting area right outside of the therapist’s office. It only had one couch – probably on purpose – so you and Namjoon ended up sitting next to each other while you waited.

“You okay?” you heard him ask you because he must have noticed the way you kept shaking your leg.

“Yeah,” you replied. “I just keep thinking that this could be a waste of time.”

Namjoon thought about this for a few seconds. “Are we a waste of time?”

You raised your eyes to look at him. “You mean… us, as a couple?”

Namjoon nodded.

“No, we’re not a waste of time,” you said, turning away from him again. “We’re just going through things and we need help.”

“But you think we’ll be okay?” he asked, evidently not ready to lose hope that the two of you would move past this unscarred. “Do you think we’ll be able to work this out and try to have children again?”

You took a deep breath when he mentioned children, not ready to talk or even think about that yet. “Let’s work on this first, okay?”

“Okay,” Namjoon nodded, beyond prepared to do whatever it took to make you happy again. “Let’s find out way back to each other.”

Jimin

Yoongi’s presence in your shared house was felt even after you told Yoongi he could leave. Jimin couldn’t stand the thought that Yoongi was strong enough in ways that Jimin wasn’t, and this took another toll on your already bent relationship.

“He left his jacket here,” Jimin said dryly as he dropped Yoongi’s jacket on the couch next to you.

“Okay. I’ll let him know,” you mumbled, too preoccupied with the book you were reading to give Jimin your full attention.

That’s the way it was with you two ever since Jimin returned home. You only communicated when it was absolutely necessary and you avoided eye contact as much as possible.

“Listen,” Jimin said, hinting that he was about to start a conversation with you that you still weren’t ready to have. “I’m sorry for all of this. I don’t think this… loss should bring us further apart.”

You closed your book louder than you intended. “But it did bring us further apart, Jimin. You left me. I had no idea when you’d be back. If ever. I didn’t know if you were okay. You wouldn’t answer your phone. You disappeared.”

“So, what would have happened if I hadn’t returned?” Jimin asked, riling up. “You’d have stayed with Yoongi?”

“Obviously not,” you shot back, angry that he’d even try to ask you this. “I’d have stayed alone with my pain because you weren’t here to share it with me.”

“I was in pain, too.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

Jimin sighed. “I kept thinking that I needed to return to you so we could try to have another child. I kept thinking that it’d work this time. But you were—”

“I was what?” you cut him off. “Was I too busy crying to take care of myself? Was I in too much shit to be able to get out of bed, so I needed another person to look after me? Yeah, Jimin. I was all of those things. I still am. Just because now you decided to come back home does not mean that we’re suddenly fine again. We lost a child. That is not going away.”

“I know,” he looked down, taken aback by your angry tone. “What I did was selfish. I hated myself for it every day. I’m still suffering, just like you. But we need to do something.”

“What are you suggesting?” you asked. “Because, frankly, since we barely talk, I don’t really see us moving past this anytime soon.”

“Well, let’s take small steps,” Jimin said. “Let’s try to get used to each other again. Let’s try to forgive ourselves for what happened. And then maybe, after realizing that this wasn’t your fault, you’ll be able to forgive me too, even though I don’t deserve it. I love you, Y/n, and I will always love you. Through thick and thin.”

V

Taehyung still hadn’t come back.

You felt like you were asking too much of Jimin who kept taking care of you, even though you were physically able to take care of yourself, so you told him to go home and stop worrying about you. But Jimin insisted to stay until Taehyung was home.

And when, weeks later, Taehyung opened the door of your house again, – not that you knew about his attempt to come home the first time – both you and Jimin froze in the spot at the sight of him. Taehyung’s hair fell on his face, covering his eyes. He hadn’t shaved recently and he had clearly worn the same exact clothes he’d been wearing when you last saw him.

“Taehyung,” Jimin spoke first after looking over Taehyung’s disheveled state. “Are you okay?”

“No. I came to get my stuff.”

Your stomach dropped. “W-what?”

Taehyung didn’t look at you when you spoke. He walked past you desperately trying not to see you and entered your shared bedroom. Not wasting a single moment, you followed him into the bedroom and closed the door behind you.

“You’re back,” you stated as you watched Taehyung open the wardrobe. “W-what are you doing?”

“I returned to get my stuff,” he repeated.

“No. I got that. I mean, why?”

“Because I’m not welcome here anymore.”

“You’re n—what the hell do you mean?” you asked, now beyond shocked. “You were locked up in the dorms for fuck knows how long. How would you know if you’re welcome home or not?!”

You had to admit this may have been too harsh but the surprise he caused you by coming home so suddenly and then getting ready to leave once again didn’t allow you to remain calm.

Taehyung stopped looking for his clothes and turned around to face you. “You have Jimin.”

“I have Jimin?” you repeated, remembering all of those times that Jimin listened to you cry about Taehyung. “He’s staying here because you’re his best friend and he doesn’t know what's gotten into you.”

“Nothing’s gotten into me. We lost our child. It broke me.”

“And you think it didn’t break me?” you countered, trying not to give in to the tears that you could already feel. “How could you have just left like that? Why didn’t you let me be there for you? Why weren’t you there for me?”

Your voice was breaking and Taehyung dropped the travel bag he was holding.

“Fuck, Y/n,” he exhaled painfully and next thing you saw was him striding across the room to where you were standing by the door and wrapping his arms around you.

Feeling his embrace after so long released every single feeling you’ve kept bottled up inside of you and you could no longer control the tears that streamed down your cheeks while you rested your head against his chest. Taehyung held you just like he was supposed to right after you found out about your miscarriage. But he wasn’t there for you then.

He thought that it was too late now but as he felt the way your hearts started to beat as one when you touched each other, he knew Jimin didn’t replace him. He couldn’t. Jimin may have been sympathetic about this, but he didn’t go through the same emotions that you and Taehyung had gone through. He never lost a child.

“I’m here,” Taehyung whispered, kissing the top of your head while you tried to breathe through the sobs that kept shaking your body. “And I’m so sorry.”

Jungkook

Jungkook came home after Jin – almost literally – kicked his ass. Jungkook wanted to return to you before but he didn’t have the strength. He hated this. During every single difficulty in your relationship – none of which, of course, was similar to the miscarriage the two of you suffered – Jungkook took it upon himself to be the strong one. He wanted to be the shoulder you leaned on.

But he couldn’t be that for you now and he despised himself for it. However, running away from you when you needed him the most was not just selfish as Jin had put it. It was also cowardly.

Jungkook returned home, afraid to face you, but no longer able to avoid this responsibility. He had prepared himself to put up a strong face for you but he had no idea that you’d do the same.

“You’re back,” you breathed as you watched Jungkook lock the door after he had entered the house.

“I’m back,” he said, suddenly embarrassed. “Are you okay?”

“I’m… still dealing with this,” you said. “How are you?”

“Me too,” he replied, not knowing why he stayed frozen to the spot instead of going over to you after not having seen you in what seemed like so long. It must have been the shame of abandoning you that did not allow him to touch you no matter how much he wanted to. “Y/n… I’m sorry about this. Not just about what happened to us, but about what I’ve done. I shouldn’t have left you like that.”

“You shouldn’t have but I understand why you did,” you said. “Jungkook, I don’t think you realize that I don’t expect much from you. Just be here. With me. Let’s try to continue living.”

Before he came back, he didn’t know what to expect. He loved you so much for your thoughtfulness and yet he didn’t think you’d be this understanding and this welcoming after he left you in the lowest moment of your life. He felt like he didn’t deserve your compassion.

“What I did was not okay,” he said, daring to take a step closer to you. “I should have stayed with you but I didn’t. I made a mistake. I don’t want to forget that. I don’t deserve your forgiveness but I’m selfish enough to wait for it anyway. I really love you, Y/n. You’re my family.”

The mention of the word family caused you to break contact and look away. “Our child. I—”

“No,” he cut you off, closing the distance between you two by finally wrapping his arms around you. “We won’t forget the child that we lost but we won’t let it break us. We’re already a family, Y/n. Just you and me. We’ll try to have children if we want to, but you’re more than enough for me. I just hate that it took the loss of our child for me to see that.”

other BTS reactions / masterlist / ask (requests are closed)

[charlottedabookworm]

Summary:

When Salazar met the boy who would become his brother for the first time in centuries, his weary heart broke a little more.

Notes:

This is for @deadcatwithaflamethrower , whose HP series Of A Linear Circle inspired this and is absolutely amazing. I was meant to be writing a source criticism on the Gortyn Law code, specifically the great code, but when I was doing the research I found out that it's mostly property and family law - especially adoption. Because I was procrastinating and reading fic instead of writing the assignment, my brain automatically jumped to this and I decided to write it. Also, I'm not certain on the title but I pulled it out of the textbook I was reading at the time so. Anyway. Hope you like it.

Salazar had never allowed himself to think about what life would be like after Nizar went into the portrait. Well, that wasn't completely true. He had thought about it nearly constantly, had gone over the plans, again and again, to make sure that he knew how everything should go. But if he had ever thought about how his life would change after such, it had always been in the depths of the night and quickly pushed aside in favour of planning what would come next.

 Because this was necessary. Salazar knew that, he had known that since not long after he had met Nizar - when he had decided to scry on the abomination that was the last of their line.

 But sarding hells, he had never expected that it would hurt so much.

 Even centuries later, he remembers feeling as though he had lost a vital part of himself. And he remembers feeling surprised, because it had felt as though he had lost him. (Just like he had lost his parents. Like he had lost Orellana and Brice and Elfric. Like he continued to lose people, over the years - never being able to stop himself from connecting with people, from caring for them, from living as they died). Nizar hadn't gone anywhere. Not really. He could still speak to his brother, could still laugh and joke with him, could still argue and debate with him. But he could have done any of that with any portrait. He shouldn't have been surprised, because in all of the ways that mattered he had lost his brother. He couldn't touch him, couldn't hug him or duel with him or take meals with him or drink with him. Nizar sat there, his portrait unchanging even as they all grew old and died.

 That realisation, that sense of loss, had only confirmed a decision that he had made years ago. He had always planned to find some way of being there for Nizar, had never wanted to leave him to fight the monster that had haunted his childhood on his own, but meeting Nizar had been one of the best things to happen to him. He had always known that but had never quite understood that until his brother was gone.

 So Salazar had decided to find a way to fight by his brother's side. No matter what it took.

 (He had known, even as he was considering it, that Nizar would never have wanted him to make a deal with an aspect. That he had never expected him to help him in this war - not when Nizar saw Salazar, saw all of them, as having done so much for him already.

 He had known, even as he was making it, that Nizar would probably punch him for doing it.

 But he had known, always, that he would never be able to bring himself to regret it. No matter what he lived through, no matter what he saw, no matter what he suffered or lost, that he would never regret succeeding. Because Nizar had changed his life for the better, and he would do anything to be able to touch - hug- his little brother at least once more before his death)

 --------------------------------------------------------

 When Salazar met the boy who would become his brother for the first time in centuries, his weary heart broke a little more.

 Because this worn, beaten young man with shadows crowding out the life in his eyes is so different from the confident, happy teacher that Nizar had grown into. And while he had never forgotten his first meeting with his brother - while he could never forgot those first years together as Nizar came into himself - both time and decades of happy memories together had dulled his recollection of the war-torn almost-child in front of him.

 (He could see Nizar in Harry Potter, of course he could, but there was something brittle about him that he had hardly seen in Nizar since those early years)

 Salazar had purposely taken a step back from the British Wizarding World after Halloween of '81. He had still been involved in his underground, but he had never allowed himself more than a glimpse of his younger brother. Sal had a mastery in Mind Magic and he knew himself well enough, he knew enough about Nizar's childhood, to know that he wouldn't have been able to keep himself from interfering.

 (Because Nizar was both his brother and a child. Children should be protected and taught and Nizar was his brother even if he didn't know him yet. He could never stand to see him hurt, and to see this child so obviously grieving - all he had ever wanted was for him to be happy)

 So he had stayed away. Because time was a circle and this had already happened - Nizar had been sent to them and had told them of his childhood and so that was how time went - so Sal couldn't meddle. Wouldn't meddle, no matter how much he wanted to because Nizar was his brother and he couldn't lose him.

 But even now it tempted him. Here was Nizar, looking exactly as he did when they had first met. Here was Nizar, still so young and in need of help. Here was Nizar, closer than he had been in nearly a thousand years and Salazar couldn't do anything. This Nizar didn't know him, didn't trust him, and he had always known that this would be difficult but.

 (All he wants to do is wrap his brother in a hug and never let go)

 But he will do what he has to do - he'll close the circle and send this version of Nizar back.

 (He'll see his brother again soon enough)

[heatofthe-kaz2y5-moment]

Going Through Changes

Title: Going Through Changes (Part 2 for Walk Away)

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,600+

Warning: Swearing, Depression, Suicide Attempt and Alcohol usage

Summary: Y/N’s gone and Dean might as well be, or at least that’s what Dean thinks as he falls deeper into his depression. But, will a series of unfortunate events bring them back together?

Author’s Note: Part two to “Walk away” and Day 4 of my December series. I really appreciate the feedback, and am super happy you guys all loved “Walk Away” so per request here is Part Two! Let me know again if you want a part 3! Send in any request, if you have any as well.

Dean sat on his bed staring at the wall in front of him. Right above his T.V., that damned photo in what had to be the most god-awful frame. That wasn't his focus, though, no instead his eyes drifted to hers. Bright and wide-eyed. She was still full of hope then, now, everything was different.

"Hey, Dean." Sam came in with a sigh his voice monotone. "Um, there's a lead on Jack and..." Sam couldn't stand to see his brother this way.

Sam's whole life Dean was always the one with his shit together. Sam needed his big brother constantly, somethings just didn't change, and that was one of them. To look at him now, though, killed Sam. Dean's eyes were sunken in, his skin pale and clammy. He looked like pure shit if Sam was being honest, but now wasn't the time for that. Sam was only nearly turned out the door with a mere crack left to be shut.

"I hear him every time I go to sleep," Dean mumbled looking to his younger brother.  "He screams at me, tells me it's all my fault." Dean's eyes glassed over.

Sam could hardly look at him, so, instead settled on the ground.

"It was my fault, that was someone's kid and now the boy is just...dead," Dean whispered before taking another swig of Vodka. "That'll always be my fault."

"Dean you can't just-."

"What else do I have to do Sam? My girl left me while carrying my child, I have nothing anymore."

"Exactly, she's carrying your child and you nearly punched her in the face," Sam said looking at his brother. "You're a giant man with a giant fist and she's just trying to be a good enough mom to her unborn baby and keep this damn family intact." Sam scoffed and Dean looked up at him. "We lose people Dean and I understand that all you wanted to do was to save that boy but at the cost of who's life?" Sam asked. "If you went down in that fire do you have any idea what would've happened to Y/N? What would've happened to me? We'd never be the same Y/N sure as hell wouldn't be!" He exclaimed for once his brother was listening and he needed to get this through to him. "Dean you can't sit here and mope around all damn day you hear if you need to grieve Dean you grieve and if you need to grieve some more fucking do it but this-." Sam sighed looking around the empty room that used to be filled with his brother's lover's light and energy. "This is worse and I can't stand to stay like this." Sam finished.

"What is that, huh? Some sort of damn ultimatum?" Dean asked going back to his staring game with the picture of that very girl Sam spoke of.

"Pull it together Dean or all of those who care about you won't be around much longer," Sam spoke with a sort of authoritative tone that made Dean want to just turn and punch him.

With that, Sam left the room and Dean looked at the clock. It was later, 11 o'clock to be exact. Dean rose from his bed and made his way into the bathroom. Her stuff gone made it all feel empty, even if it was just a toothbrush and comb. Dean groaned at the sight of himself punching the mirror allowing it to cut through his skin. He pulled the mirror out and lone behold was the medicine cabinet. He had reached in grabbing anything he could before pouring a heavy and lethal dosage of medication into his hand before throwing it back. Swallowing each damn pill while naming off his many sins in his head until he just couldn't any longer and feel against the wall. Conscious but weak. Dean sat there staring at his shoes, the ones Y/N bought him, before kicking them off, stumbling to his bed and just falling in. He took a huge swig of the Vodka that sat on his nightstand before falling into the dark abyss with the smell of her lighting the weight he carried on his shoulders for the last time.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a worn down, no good motel, but it was all Y/N could afford. So, she stuck with it despite all its disgusting aspects and making due because that's what moms did, right? Y/N was only a steady 12 weeks along barely showing. It more so looked like she put on a bit of weight than a baby bump, but it was a purpose. A reminder for a purpose in her life. While she sat at the table watching the tiny T.V. she couldn't help to think about Dean. They hadn't quite planned for a baby but this wasn't how it was supposed to go down either. They were supposed to be together, but it didn't look as though it was going to work out that way this time. Hunters' stories didn't end with happily ever after, and this was just another example of that. Now, with her stomach full, she placed her bowl on the counter that she had picked up from the Dollar Store and headed towards the bathroom for a shower.

"Oh, God." Y/N groaned. "Again?" She asked the invisible man in the sky before huffing.

The damned shower's curtain rod would not stop falling out of place, dropping on one side. So, Y/N climbed the border of the tub reaching up to fix the rod when she heard the squeal of a rat seeing it run across the floor. With her train of thought gone her foot was too. Just like that, she fell down into the tub with a crash and a bang. There was a quiet moment of the unsure haunting her as she looked down, and noticed her sweats tainted and she broke into a sob.

"N-No." She cried sinking down into the tub before screaming, crying out for anyone's help and sure enough, a neighbor came in and called 911.

But that didn't take away from the blood seeping out her pants and the terror over the what she was so sure was the loss of her child.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"You're lucky Ms. Ruso." The doctor said calling Y/N by her cover name all the while Y/N sighed with relief hearing the steady beating of her baby's heart. "The fall was serious, but thankfully not threatening to you or your baby's health."

"Why-why did I bleed?" She asked with wonder.

"Merely due to impact your placenta separated from the uterus but just enough to cause bleeding." The doctor explained. "I've sent for you to pick up a prescription from the pharmacy when you are discharged to help restore what was lost to that abruption."

"Thank you so much."

"Of course, now would you like to know the gender?" The doctor abruptly asked catching Y/N off guard.

"I-I um I-." Y/N stumbled over her words, did she want to know?

"How about this, I write down the gender seal it up in an envelope and you can look when you are ready." The doctor suggested and Y/N nodded. "Alright then," She passed Y/N the envelope. "I will give you some space to change and then I will meet you at the front desk."

"Okay thank you." Y/N closed the conversation as she heard the door shut, quick to stand and pull her clothes back on.

She then opened the heavy wooden door stepping out into the hallway then turning left to go towards the front desk. That's when one man she never expected to see again rounded the corner with a coffee in one hand and ice chips in the other.

"Y/N." Sam stopped and Y/N too.

"Um Sam, hi." She mumbled.

"Everything okay?" Sam asked and Y/N sighed.

"Yeah, yeah I'm good just um just a checkup to well hear him or her." Sam nodded with a smile.

"My little niece or nephew." He whispered and Y/N swallowed.

"Why-Why are you here?" Why couldn't Y/N keep it together? She knew this man for nearly 2 years of her lives why was she so jittery around him?

"It's um it's Dean," Sam stated and she just nodded. "Tried to kill himself found him in bed laying in his spit up and blue."

Y/N felt a tang of guilt she was his lover, his supporter. She should've been there to stop him and to protect him from himself. But, he pushed her out and made the fact he didn't want her around very clear.

"He needs you Y/N he won't admit it but he does he needs to be with you and this baby." Y/N starred off as Sam talked. "Y/N? Did you hear me?"

"Yeah, I did." She looked up at him. "I'm not going to go see him, I can't chase after him anymore it's all give on my end and none on his." Sam's eyes fell in disappointment but Y/N passed him a card writing down her Motel information. "If he needs me, he'll find me." Sam nodded.

"Thanks." He mumbled as they shared a hug before they turned to walk different ways.

Sam walked to be with his brother, his crazy, fucked up brother who was going through some pretty serious changes that he knew his brother couldn't fix on his own but trying to be there to support him anyway. And, on the other end. Y/N walked away from the hospital that housed the love of her life because despite how much it hurt, she was obeying his wishes, and was walking away.

[cirrocumulus-cloud]

Kaneki and his Centipedes

Kaneki’s mind is a wonderfully jumbled mess of opinions that form a variety of colours, yet Kaneki always falls back into a black and white mindset that he never challenges, a theme that is central in Chapter 144 of Tokyo Ghoul:re.

There’s beauty to be found in Kaneki acknowledging his own mistakes - only to throw all of these revelations out the window to focus on his own selfish construct of a mind. Multiple versions of him do so throughout the entire chapter. Yet no version of himself can thouroughly agree with another version - something that references his terrible state of mind and shows us clearly that Kaneki himself isn’t his own character. He’s never been his own character, his own personality. Kaneki Ken is a multifaced centipede with thousand arms that are all parts of himself, yet no version of Kaneki is ever a complete person.

Simply put, Kaneki is whatever the situation requires him to be. With a twist that Kaneki maintains a persona in said situation that enables him to keep on pushing forward without ever having to face his own shortcomings.

If one version of him doesn’t work out, he can always abandon whatever he tried to build and gain a new mask, a new husk of himself that makes it possible for him to keep on moving on with no need of personal growth. Having all of these versions interact can only end in a mess of a conversation, and it does.

Kaneki’s many versions have one central ground of agreement, and that is to maintain the status quo of finding a scapegoat to keep on pushing forward for the sake of pushing forward, but we will get to that later.

Let’s establish a few main characters of our one-man cast:

- both child Kanekis -

These two observe, as they have always been. The blackhaired child Kaneki is someone who has always taken whatever abuse others hurled at him and continues to be passive. The white haired child Kaneki is much the same, referencing a different state of mind that can mostly be connected to him haunting Sasaki in the past. But both of these versions are passerbys on a train who don’t openly voice their thoughts, so here, they remain silent as well.

- #240 -

This Kaneki is breaking down throughout the entire conversation, showing Kaneki at his lowest, during the time he was tortured by Arima. #240 has no self agency and shows on multiple occassions that other parts of Kaneki have to try to calm him down or tell him to shut up, showcasing how Kaneki himself has no idea how to deal with himself at his lowest points.

- Eyepatch -

Softspoken and intent to keep the peace between the group, yet there is only one panel where he is shown to have a significant impact on the conversation. His pleading for peace is ignored fully, but Eyepatch has never been a part of Kaneki that had a big impact on his psyche. He represents the start of Kaneki’s goul life after all and has always been humble with his biggest intent being to remain unseen and unheard, much like human Kaneki behaved. Him putting all the blame on himself regarding Juuzou is central to that selfish self-blame that he has had for the longest time. Eyepatch can be seen sitting next to the child versions of Kaneki, which further shows how much of an impact he has. Indeed, one of the only things that even influences the conversation in Kaneki’s mind is this:

Which fits Kaneki’s current mindset wonderfully, because Kaneki likes nothing more than to push responsibilities away from himself. It’s not his fault for being a terrible King that things turned out this way, right? It’s the fault of the others not messaging him that something was wrong, correct? A great thing to think to yourself and all the other versions of Kaneki pick it up and lament that no one messaged him because it was an ambush that no one could have predicted in any kind of way...right?

It is Eyepatch’s cynic view on their situation that stuns all of them, even Haise, into silence, though, after Haise sadly proclaims that he simply wanted to live a happy life. Here, Eyepatch perfectly sums up a problems that Kaneki has always had: He only finds importance in trying to protect others so his life has meaning, and that cuts the possibility of him leading a normal life.

The fact that even Haise, the one who pushes for the past of a good life, has nothing to say to that speaks volumes about Kaneki’s selfish sense of self and his inability to shoulder responsibilities. No one knows how to deal with this direct confrontation, so instead of coming to the conclusion that something needs to be changed, everyone agrees to review the situation once more, as though a golden opportunity could have been found. (The irony comes in the fact that nothing that Kaneki could have done would have ended in a victory for him, since he can’t put himself onto a path that he never walked.)

- Sasaki Haise -

We’ve seen Sasaki act as a fatherly figure for a lot of characters. The Quinx, mostly, but also Juuzou to a lesser extent. It should come as no surprise that Sasaki is the one who laments on the fact that he acted kindly towards Suzuya, so maybe if he had killed him earlier, things would have turned out differently?

Sasaki is also the one who presents most points of argument to the cast of Kanekis, painting him in the teacher role that he has had for the longest time. Haise was always a kindhearted character with a lot of patience for others, so it is an obvious choice for our limb missing Kaneki to put him into a position of starting the conversation and steering it towards different topics.

We see Sasaki act as a sort of voice of reason for most of the chapter, which does make sense considering that Haise was the one version of Kaneki who led the most ‘normal‘ life out of them all. He was able to shoulder responsibilities for a long while, embraced the role of acting as a father figure and was well-rounded until his psyche broke down due to his past coming back to haunt him.

It is interesting to see how much of a central focus Haise‘s words get, considering how Kaneki cut ties with the Quinx. It is very much presented to us as a past he would love to get back to, if only he could. Haise is one part of Kaneki that our current Kaneki wants to keep hidden away - and he succeeded at that until now. He shoved Haise to the side for the longest time so he wouldn’t have to deal with the grieve that comes from acknowledging that he left something good, something precious, something important behind so selfishly.

But Kaneki can’t keep this part of himself hidden forever, and so Haise states what is true - that the Quinx saved Kaneki, multiple times. They were the first real thing to a tightnit family that he has ever had. Anteiku was something akin to a home for him, one that he never fully let himself get close to.

But he did let himself get close to the Quinx and it ended in tragedy. And Haise is incredibly saddened by that, being a part of Kaneki that has experienced something that no other part of him has.

Haise states this because our Kaneki won’t let himself feel this loneliness. Thinking of Hide alone made him so sad that he couldn’t stomach the thought of him. So of course he would try to forget the Quinx, but he can’t.

Reaper tries to push the blame onto Haise, onto himself, stating that had he not met the Quinx, Shirazu would still be alive. It’s easy to say to distance yourself from problems that you have no control over, and Kaneki loves to have control over actions. It’s Haise’s words that state what Kaneki wants most, though: To live a simple, calm life.

The problem here is that Haise ackowledges that yes, all these others are Kaneki. But he, himself, is also Kaneki, something that never once occurs to him. Haise is as much Kaneki as Ken is Kaneki. Haise is a part of himself, one that Kaneki still tries to keep down even though he realises that he wanted to live a normal life. (The irony is that Kaneki could have had a normal life, multiple times, but chose to abandon those whenever he had them in his grasp.)

- Shiro Kaneki -

This Kaneki is rather passive, as well. He very much is in his own mind, sitting on a chair throughout most of the chapter and stating calm sentences that follow one central theme: Not choosing anything.

He doesn’t want to put the blame on anyone, not even himself, as shown above when confronted with the fact that he wasn’t there during the time Shirazu died. Instead of reacting with his own in-action of the scene, he instead simply talks about the fact that it wasn’t the Quinx’ fault that he died. He is a foil to the Reaper in that way, and most of the time he is the one who gets the brute of the violence and rage that Reaper harbors, reacting to all of his insults with passive indifference.

He is as passive as one gets, mimicking the way he reacted when faced with Yamori. Until he snaps due to the words of Reaper who accuses him of being passive to the point of ignoring reality. It is interesting to note that this Kaneki gets reprimanded by Reaper, one part of Kaneki who acknowledges that he ignores reality, only to become violent and lash out. (The irony is that all of Kaneki ignores reality countless times, facing reality is something that he is almost incapable of doing and him fighting himself in that regard leads nowhere.)

- Reaper -

The Reaper is mostly the one who speaks the ugly truths. This part of Kaneki doesn’t hold back, be it verbally or through violence. He acknowledges all of the flaws of the other versions of Kaneki while willfully ignoring how he, himself, was suicidal.

He is very perceptive in how he views everything that has happened, though in true Reaper fashion ignores everything that has to do with human interactions. Kaneki’s time as Reaper was one of the darkest and lowest points in his life, one were dying in style was his only goal.

Though Reaper is a wonderful foil to most of the other versions of Kaneki, he thinks of himself as someone incapable of doing anything. He constantly talks about how he wasn’t powerful enough to bring about some change, going so far as to blaming Haise for Shirazu’s death.

This showcases beautifully how incapable Kaneki is of logically thinking of the events that he has control over (Not choosing to abandon the Quinx in the first place.) and those that he doesn’t (If he isn’t present at a certain scene, he can’t possibly help out.). But Reaper encompasses everything that Kaneki has control over and choosing the wrong path, yet this part of Kaneki never thinks of himself in that way. Kaneki himself blames himself for all the things he couldn’t change, but never stops to think about what he could have done, about facing his own demons and improving himself. The Reaper is the one who picks at the flaws of every other version of Kaneki, while presenting himself as someone with no agency, when he himself simply chose not to partake in self agency.

The Reaper has always been suicidal, always been someone who only looks at the black, the depressing side of reality and despite his strenght to pick up on Kaneki’s flaws, Kaneki lets him control the situation for long amounts of time only to regress back into thinking everything is inevitable.

It should come as no surprise that Haise is the one who tries to calm him down from these self destructive thoughts. The problem comes with the fact that even Haise is stuck in the past, being self destructive in a whole different way. (The irony is that Reaper, the one who picks up flaws of Kaneki, is stuck in his own head so much he doesn’t recognise his own destructive behaviour. Kaneki puts all of his problems and acknowledgement of problems onto the shoulders of his suicidal self, thus rendering any sort of self development mute.)

- One Eyed King -

Our current Kaneki who laments on the fact that he can’t listen to his gut feeling. Our King is a drastic failure of royalty, having been raised by two people who had no idea how to reign properly.

As such, the King did what he does best - not make a decision until it is too late. This haunts him now, to the point that he has all these versions of himself in his head who try to lead a conversation that leads nowhere in terms of self improvement.

All these versions of Kaneki show flaws that he has, most of them point out flaws of some of his other versions, but King never truly interacts with those statements. It is a pity show through and through, because pitying himself is what Kaneki does best.

Now, I have to say that keeping King and Shironeki separate is a bit difficult, so maybe I messed up once or twice, though it is obvious even like this that King isn’t the one who leads this conversation.

King pities the fact that he didn’t listen to the bad feelings that he has had, King isn’t the one who tries to provide the Kaneki squad with solutions. They all simply review the situation again and again, trying to find a plan that leads them to victory when they have already lost. (GAME OVER.)

Kaneki, being someone who cannot face reality even when he has to do so in his head, thus has multiple kinds of worldviews thrown together - and it leads to him shutting down entirely to bring all of his different versions to one conclusion.

It is what pushes Kaneki forward, that thought to see Touka again.

But Touka is a scapegoat, a wishing well that Kaneki can throw coins into to not have to improve his outlook on the world, rendering it black and white once more. It is as Eyepatch said before - Kaneki will always find something or someone who he wants to protect, thus preventing him from ever living a normal life, from ever outgrowing his selfish needs.

Eyepatch lamenting the fact that the want to protect leads to failure is rendered pointless.

Haise acknowleding that he wanted a normal life is rendered pointless.

Shironeki saying that it isn’t someone elses fault that things turned out the way they did is rendered pointless.

Reaper stating that they refuse to face reality is rendered pointless.

Kaneki is pushing forward for the sake of protecting and living, but he does so in a situation that is unwinnable, playing into the hands of a madman who planned this stage for him for a long, long time.

So Kaneki grows, but he grows backwards, ever stuck in the position as the Hanged Man, now raised from a figurehead King to an enemy Dragon.

And maybe he will win one day, but for now he has lost once more.

[jungnoir]

mini cryptid hunter!bts au bc i was enabled

@clockwork-lullaby this was probably more than you were asking for but it’s happening

yoongi

the “logical” cryptid hunter. if you watch buzzfeed unsolved just think shane LOL

yoongi just has a really specific fear and it’s of demons

grew up in a really religious church playing the piano as a kid so he always heard about “exorcisms” being done on the church grounds late at night from his friends

yoongi isn’t as dumb but i mean he’s bored on a friday night and his parents are out for their anniversary so he goes and sneaks in with them to the church and the lights are on and he actually encounters a possessed church goer getting cleansed by a few priests but it’s just. like not working?

the person is absolutely livid and seething and speaking in a crackly voice and suddenly the demon notices him and his friends run but yoongi is just stone still

before the demon can try and hurt him it’s exorcised and yoongi is completely mortified and the priests are like “kid omg why are you here you could have DIED” and they tell him to never speak of it to anyone and yoongi’s smart enough to know that what he’s just seen is something way beyond his years

in fact he’s repressed it so much that even when he’s older sometimes he has to remind himself it happened and now hunting demons is just his damn calling

100% carries a dagger or something dipped in holy water and probably knows a bunch of bible verses that’ll make a demon squeal right off the top of his head

when not hunting demons, he’s usually just making fun of namjoon for getting spooked all the time LOL

him and hoseok are like the lethal duo for demons like god forbid you’re a demon and get on their bad side bc u will be finessed tf into a pile of ash

probably naps on the way to haunted sites and the first maknae to rouse him from his sleep is carrying him to their destination

(but never jimin bc jimin is not a heathen like the others ofc)

namjoon

ok i’m gonna crack on my boyfriend real quick: DUDE IS SUCH A BABY OH MY GOD!!! HOW DID HE GET HERE!!! WHY IS HE DOING THIS!!!!! WHY COULDN’T HE MAKE FRIENDS WITH NORMAL PEOPLE WHO DON’T HUNT THE SUPERNATURAL

he’s v smart and reads up on lots of folklore from all around the world so he’s your go to when you wanna figure out what’s been spooking the locals

namjoon says he doesn’t believe in the supernatural but this is usually said in a small, squeaky chant under his breath as he wanders through the cemetery during witching hour with his six dumb ass friends and why did he have to start that casual conversation with hoseok that one time in biology-

has never had a definite brush with the supernatural BUT 9/10 he’s gonna think a floorboard creaking is the hounds of hell coming after him

it’s even worse that he’s clumsy

if jin isn’t holding onto him he’s most likely gonna run and fall when something remotely worrying happens and they aren’t carrying an injured namjoon through another haunted house again, goddamit joon

his favorite subject is aliens and he’s constantly letting the boys know that they are out there and they are avoiding the human race bc the human race is, in fact, super fucking stupid

is also stuck between wanting to get abducted so he can be left alone or wanting the rest of the world to get abducted so he can be left alone

tough choices, really

if shit goes down namjoon is either hiding behind yoongi or hoseok and he only trusts those two to get him out safely

“the rest of you are despicably hopeless” “you trip on dust, namjoon”

jin

the Responsible Adult

also easily spooked as fuck skfjekfi

ngl he’s only slightly more calm than namjoon but that is not,,,, by much

they usually cling to each other to calm each other down (the fucking waves of anxiety rolling off of the both of them is truly just. terrible. they’re both so nervous you can feel it from right at home behind the screen of your phone from which you’re reading this)

jin babbles when he’s scared too, and starts singing old nursery rhymes his mom sang him when he was still scared of the monsters under his bed

but ok. his reflexes are WAY better than namjoon’s bc where namjoon is “scream and run”, jin’s is “punch and run”

dude don’t even know what he saw but he’s already swinging

jin knows ghosts are real because he had an imaginary friend as a child who resembled the old owner of his house pretty spot on

since he figured that out, he can’t sleep in his old room alone any more and will use any excuse in the book to share with his parents when he visits

jin is always carrying snacks for the boys bc cryptid hunting is brutal man,, here’s a protein bar and some holy water

uses a fanny pack to carry said snacks and while yoongi has made every joke in the book abt it, who is the one carrying the antiseptic in a conveniently stored place when said min yoongi gets a cut hm

hoseok 

ok ok hoseok had a somewhat similar experience to yoongi as a kid and is also a great demon hunter

his family taught him about the evil shits as a kid so he’s always been aware of them even if kids always called him dumb for thinking they were real

uniquely enough, his choice of weapon is a bow and arrow (also dipped in holy water but depending on what they hunt, he could use anything speared by his arrow)

he really REALLY loves hunting famous lore tho like one time they actually tried to find bigfoot and he was so excited the whole time he couldn’t sleep. he learned the mating call and everything

(yoongi brought earplugs specifically for this reason)

he used to be easily spooked as a kid but now he’s steeled his nerves, if only to become the best monster hunter he can be

does copious amounts of research with joonie (listen ok they have sleepovers together and just geek out over the possibilities of some cryptid existing somewhere and hoseok gets stars in his eyes imagining what could be. namjoon loves analyzing the logic and sets hoseok on the right path since he tends to get a bit daydreamy when it comes to the famous stuff)

imagine him just freakin slaying a demon in front of the boys and getting a cocky lil smirk on his face

“calm down buffy, your ego is gonna be too big to fit in the van home”

jimin

ngl first thing he thinks about when his friends talk abt the supernatural is unicorns and fairies

he’s not v acquainted with the darker stuff

honestly doesn’t know why he’s hanging out with them all but he’s just happy to be here

always asks questions about what the boys know or have experienced. he’s really interested and he gets v empathetic

“no taehyung we can’t watch the poltergeist tonight, you know how uncomfortable it makes namjoon and jin” “we hunt these things daily u know that right”

v interested in magic

anything the boys find that involves magic, jimin is 110% hyper focused on the subject

he does his own lil research in his own time but he can’t help reading creepypastas sometimes

he doesn’t know any better ok!!!

also carries snacks but in a backpack bc he really can’t get behind the fanny pack

jin: they’re convenient

jimin: they’re a fashion abomination is what they are

one time they were hunting a monster that jumped out at taehyung and jimin just fuckin

decked it

like no thought just a right hook to the eye(s)

there were multiple eyes and jimin couldn’t stop whining abt the residue on his hand as they ran back to the van to hide

he’s just having a good time with his friends and didn’t really sign up for the monster bit but that’s okay

taehyung

so uh

taehyung can talk to the dead

this has actually been a thing he could do since he was a kiddo and similarly to hoseok, he was shunned for it because nobody believed him

he communicates with past relatives or family friends of his often for his family (who also know and find it kind of lovely what he can do) and sometimes passes on things for the dead to their living family

like he’ll order orange tulips sent to the home of a grieving widow bc her recently deceased husband asked him to do him that favor, something her husband had been planning on picking up for her the day he died

or he’ll quietly look after his classmate whose mother died because he was asked to. he’ll share his lunch with her and make sure she eats because her mother just knows she’s not well

when he met hoseok (who is really the heart of this lil group), he just felt so much relief at finally being understood

he’s really a great mediator for ghosts when they encounter them and he’s so helpful at leading them to the afterlife if needed

he’s really not scared of much to be honest. he finds everything so fascinating

sometimes it drains him being kind of a connect between the human and spiritual world but he’s so glad he was born that way, it’s helped him meet so many wonderful people and he loves who he is

and yeh ok taehyung abuses his power like the lil shit he is sometimes

tae: did you wash the dishes

jk: *clearly lying* yeh

tae: the ghost standing next to you begs to differ

jk: ...for the love of god taE NOT AGAIN

jungkook

ok, like i said,,, dude is an adrenaline junkie

jungkook does not give two flying shits he will deadass fight a headless forest demon in his living room if he has to

jungkook fears no man or god

strongest member so he’s always the one to carry namjoon when he inevitably hurts himself and has to be helped

even tho he’s not easily scared for his own life, he is scared for his family and friends

his worst nightmare is losing any of them to something they hunt

sometimes he’ll line windows and doors in his house with salt discreetly, just enough for it to work and just enough that his mom won’t yell at him for wasting perfectly good salt

is always researching protection spells and things just in case he’ll ever need em, usually consults yoongi for help too

“who do you think would win in a fight between mothman and a wendigo”

genuinely cannot function on an empty stomach and the boys have to stop by convenience stores to buy him like six cups of instant ramen just to satiate him

of course jin has some snacks in his handy fanny pack if needed (and has made painstakingly clear if jungkook mocks said fanny pack that he will be banned from getting snacks from it for the rest of his “measly young life”)

jungkook has some good sense and hasn’t said a word (but he has thought a copious amount, for sure)

[poetdameron]

cracked | jonerys [got] fic | jonerys week

Title: Cracked Characters/Pairings: Jon/Dany, Jorah, Davos, Gendry Rating: T Spoilers/Warnings: Description of (Jon’s) scars, this shit is sad at first. Word Count: ~3,721 Summary: As Daenerys grieves for Viserion, Jon Snow sleeps and her heart demands answers for the way she's now attached to him. A/N: Hands down, I wasn’t expecting this to get so out of hand. It was supposed to only be ONE scene and it ended being... this. But, I enjoyed doing Dany’s POV. Hope you enjoy it. This was done for Jonerys Week Day 2: Favorite Scene. Jon wakes up to find Dany at his side, from Dany's POV.

AO3 | Read on my blog:

Cracked

Viserion had been the smaller of her children, bony even, as he grow up with his brothers leaving him behind. They constantly throw bites in his direction and she had to call up Drogon and Rhaegal for their mean manners to their smaller brother.

She remembers the golden egg, looking like a precious rock, how it felt the first time she held his shattered form and felt the warm inside her chest and belly, recognizing it as special since the beginning, all three of them hers.

Daenerys swallowed another sob. Jon Snow’s men surrounded her, giving weird looks at her figure, like not knowing what else to say but their thanks and sorry, as if they had been the ones putting her children in danger.

The figure in the bed didn’t distract her thoughts from Viserion long enough, his big and innocent eyes still fixated on her as she called them for a short bath when they were still small to stand on her shoulders. Drogon would ignore her and Rhaegal followed in his steps, like the younger sibling that admires the older.

Looking at the bed, she wondered if Lord Snow’s siblings admired him as much as his men seemed to.

None of them had left his side, constantly passing by to check on him, ask her if she needed anything. None stayed long enough to make conversation, and she knew better than to initiated it herself, so that was fine, too.

All this she was feeling, no one was invited to uncover it as he slept. Only him could give her an answer while her heart felt heavy still, the lose of her child haunting her like the murmur of rain before it became a storm.

He hadn’t opened his eyes today, they told her he will maybe tomorrow, or in a couple of days.

**

“Khaleesi, is freezing.” Ser Jorah said at her side while going home, and Daenerys looked at him as if he was far away and she had imagined his voice. “Please, come inside. They have prepared a warm drink for you.”

“Thank you, but I don’t feel like it.”

She didn’t feel like anything. Drogon and Rhaegal were flying by, just above their heads but far enough to not scare the rest of the men in the boat. Their travel was safe with them in the air, but they were uneasy. Missing.

“Khaleesi, please.”

Jorah’s plea didn’t register by much, she was missing, too. Searching. Waiting. But as Rhaegal fly by, crying out for a brother that would never come home, she realized at last, that her Viserion would not come back to her, no matter how much she waited outside in the cold.

“He’s gone.”

Her friend didn’t say anything. The comfort of his silence wasn’t enough this time, and he didn’t make a move to touch her. Ser Jorah was always so kind, always so warm, but not even his affection and company could take away the nothing inside her chest.

Drogon cried out now, calling his lost brother and her heart ached. Tears were rolling down her face and Jorah finally embraced her.

She remembered Viserion’s egg cracking in the middle of the consuming fire around her. Drogon was already out and Rhaegal had been opening his eyes when the last egg finally let out her third newborn.

The small frame of him reminded her that of a child and she wanted nothing more but to protect him. Daenerys hold him at the time, helped him get to his feet and stood showing her children to the world for the first time. Her people bend on their knees and recognized the miracle of her motherhood that had bring them to life after years of no dragons.

“He’s gone!”

But she had failed Viserion. He was dead now, fallen from the sky like a simple birth stroke by a single arrow.

“He’s gone…”

And Jon Snow had stood for her, sword high and faster than she has seen any westeroisi man. He had ran away from her, yelling rage like breathing fire from his, otherwise, almost gentle mouth. No one had ever done that for her children, only her.

But he had order her to leave him behind for he was about to end an enemy that had wronged his people for too long, that had took down her dragon, and was—it was going to attack her, isn’t it? She could barely remember, her mind and heart had been far away, almost to her throat and into the ground.

Viserion would never come back, just like her childhood dreams and red door wouldn’t, like Drogo had left her to not be again, like she never looked back. But Jon Snow did. He had came back to her, frozen to a certain dead, and yet he had come back and lived another day.

She walked inside at least when the tears stopped and the cold had started to be unbearable, Jorah behind her like if confirming she was warm enough to survive. But she didn’t went for her hot drink or another boring tiny chit-chat. Daenerys almost stormed into Lord Snow’s chambers and looked as Ser Davos prepared him for a quick bath, pot of water at his side and a small towel into his hand.

“Your Grace.” He greeted her. “I didn’t knew you were coming.”

“Neither did I.” She admitted and walked inside, looking at Jorah to dismiss him. He seemed uncomfortable with her actions but, like many times before, stored his desires for himself and left. “Can I help?”, she asked after closing the door.

“But—” Davos stood while blinking, she opened her mouth to give an order, or maybe just tell she wanted to, but he nodded first. “I don’t think it’s appropiate…”

“A lot of things aren’t in these lands.” She said, walking to the other side of the bed to slowly uncover Jon’s shoulders. “I—”

“How about you help me with this water and these towels, your Grace?” He invited her to his side. “I’m afraid there are things that should remind a mystery in here.”

Her face felt warm but a small smile crossed her lips, and guilt punched the air out of her. But Daenerys walked to Ser Davos’s side, holding the pot of hot water and passing towels to him when his hand reached for them.

She didn’t look, she couldn’t. If she was to witness Jon’s forms, she wanted him well and awake. She wanted him to share it, so she could share hers.

**

When she first met Jon Snow, she was sure she had seen him before. Later, she dreamed of him, but it wasn’t quit him.

It was that young lover she used to imagine, making her moan and cuddle him to her chest at night. Daenerys had reprimanded herself. How could she think like this when the man had called her not only a child, but had talked to her with such disrespect, claiming to not bend the knee to a stranger?

But he had been there at Dragonston after, walking around and working with dirt and crystal with his own hands, helping his men and talking to her people, as much as he and them could understand.

Now, he lay here, in the bed of one of her boats, half dead and covered in fur to bring him back. Two nights he had slept and she was starting to get impatient for his eyes to open.

The scars in his chest and abdomen haunted her.

It reminded her of her own, of the ones in Drogo’s body and Daario’s, but not quit the thing either. These were deep, dark looking. The skin around them was dead, probably hard to the touch.

He had taken a knife to the heart for his people. There was no exaggeration in that. And there was no pride on it for him, either.

If he was another, he may had used his survival for an exclamation of surprise and admiration. But he kept doing things that only surprised her for real, making her curious and wanting to talk, and talk, and talk.

She sat down at his side on that third day, they had told her he may wake up any time by now. For the moment, there was no danger surrounding him or them. They needed him to wake up, only that way they would make sure he was, in fact, completely out of danger.

“Here”, the boy named Gendry had entered the room with a bowl of food and more warm drink. “Is dinner time, your Grace.”

Daenerys nodded, Gendry left the plates on the night’s table and she kept her guard, listening to the sea guide them home and her dragons cry the one that was gone.

Jon was not going to be gone, she had decided. She couldn’t lose another one.

**

Early in the morning of the fourth day, she cried again, alone in Jon’s chambers.

She wasn’t sure for what the tears were, her child or how none of her dreams of home were true. Or Jon, that had been stabbed before they could meet. Or because he hadn’t woke up yet. It was still dark in the sky, and Daenerys cried in silence, swallowing sob after sob, until her eyes were dry and her nose was hurt.

Nobody came in the morning to give her breakfast or clean him up.

With firm hands, she disposed of the water and the towels, and cleaned him herself, at least cleaned his face and his arms, his shoulders and collarbone, until Ser Davos came and none said a word about what duties she had taken that weren’t hers to do.

“How do you feel the winter?” Davos said after Jon was clean, sitting with her as they waited for him to wake up. “I bet it’s not how you imagine it.”

“I didn’t think much of winter, Ser.” She answered. “I imagined other places with sun.”

“Like what? If I may ask.”

“You may.” She smiled, looking at Jon from the corner of her eyes. “Dragonstone. It was sunny when we arrived, but it’s been… dark, most times. The sky has been bluer lately, for sure.” She couldn’t help but look at Jon. Just a few days ago, he had been in Drogon’s landing spot and the contrast between his gray and black colors against the brightness of the sea and the sky, the green of the grass and the golden of the sun, had made him look beautiful. “Snow must be beautiful…”

If he had something to say or was thinking of her at the moment, Ser Davos said nothing and she appreciate it that way.

She has never seen snowing, not really. In dreams, the cold tugged at her core and made her shiver, she would see the small drops of ice melting in her skin and nothing else. Daenerys never imagined the real cold, never thought something would feel as it.

Most times, she was warm for she was a dragon after all, but the North was real to its claims, her skin was cold as her heart felt and she swallowed.

“What do the northers do when they have sick people in bed?” She asked.

Davos seemed to search for his answer, probably thinking of Jon’s House and what was done over there.

She knew so little about him but so much at the same time. She didn’t knew which of his siblings was the closer to him, if he had a favorite meal, if he wished to have the power to change something of his past.

But she knew he was a good man, that his heart may be too big for his own good. Her children recognized him like they never did anyone before. She recalled them growling at her lovers and friends, they had been always only touched by her. And Jon Snow had become their friend, suddenly touched by him.

If Drogon could be submissive to Lord Snow, so will be Rhaegal. Her Viserion would had been so happy to have another set of arms to pet him, and the threat she didn’t believe in had taken him away from all of it.

“People pray to their Gods and put on guards, waiting for them to wake up.” Ser Davos answered. “Sometimes, they tell stories, sing songs. Some women sew, other make figures to offer to their Gods and ask for their favor.”

“Doesn’t sound so different.” She admitted. “I guess we all love the same.”

He was looking at her now, she could feel it. But once more, he said nothing and only nodded. “We do.”

**

He woke up later that fourth day, hold her hand, said he was sorry, and looked at her like if she had bring peace to him as he longed since forever.

Daenerys couldn’t take it, it was all too much.

She ran from him like a little girl.

**

She dreamed of Viserion, happily flying and playing with his brothers, sleeping on the grass and sniffing on wild flowers that only made him sniff multiple times until he needed water to take the strange flavor and smell from his nose.

No matter how big he got, he was still her baby. And now he was gone.

Daenerys woke up with tears in her eyes for her dreams became nightmares of him sinking in unknown waters that would freeze him for eternity, away from home, away from her forever.

Her heart hammered inside her chest, and she put one hand over her mouth, silencing the best she could the sobs coming out from her. She had lost Rhaego first and it had almost killed her, to know she was responsible for that lost had also killed part of her spirit ever since.

Now, she had done it again. She had put in risk her dragons and one had fallen, she unable to do anything but watch.

Her baby didn’t like the water, he took his quick showers when he was younger better than his brothers, but he had never liked it anyway. And now he was doomed to sleep in water for the many years to come.

**

When she opened Jon’s door, he wasn’t in bed and for a second, her heart stopped.

“I thought you weren’t coming again.” She heard to her right, he was standing outside the toilet area, barely dressed in pants and nothing else. “Your Grace.” He greeted her after making eye contact, slowly walking back to the bed.

“Good morning…” She said, looking him get into bed lazily. “You are looking better. Are you feeling better?”

“I am.” He answered. His voice was as sweet as it had been yesterday, it made her legs feel weak and the rest of her body fill with strange sensations of cold and warm at the same time. “But you don’t seem any better, my Queen.”

The way he said those words shouldn’t be allowed, maybe she should tell him to stop it, but her heart didn’t want her to. Daenerys licked her lips, walked to the chair she had claimed as hers and sat down in front of him.

“I can hardly sleep.” She admitted, watching him sit to face her, his hands over his lap and she ached to take them again, feel his warm, that he was real and very much alive. “I have so much in my head, not even tired I can shut it all down.”

She didn’t question herself why she was telling him this right now, and she probably wouldn’t later. He was looking at her that way again, like if he could see something nobody else could, and was keeping the secret to himself. Jon nodded, and she looked at his hands, wondering if he would touch her again or was keeping them away on purpose.

Had he felt rejected? Maybe. There was no time for this right now, a war that could end everything they most loved was about to walk through that wall she have seen only in dreams before, love was only a commodity that could become a weakness none of them needed.

Daenerys’ heart jumped a bit at the mention of love. There was no work for her to keep it away from the privacy of her mind, not now. She wondered if Tyrion had noticed already, that Jon wasn’t the only one staring and making dumb decision dictated by his heart.

“Daenerys,” he called her and her body filled with goosebumps at the mention of her name. Until now, he had been respectful to her title and never said her name in her presence, but it rolled on his tongue like if he had said it a million times before, “what you did for us beyond the wall… Not anyone would put their lives at risk like you did, not for a bunch of nobodies like us. You saved us, you could had easily leave us there to die—”

“What kind of person turns her back to those who need her?” She interrupted, he tilted his head and smiled softly. “You are a brave warrior, Jon Snow. You’ll be needed, you already are.”

“Jon is alright.” He answered, Daenerys swallowed. “You have too much of a good heart, you should allow yourself to accept when someone says thank you.”

“Where you?” She smiled.

“I was going to, aye.” He replied with his smile widening. “Thank you, Daenerys.”

She could feel her own smile widening instead, her cheeks grew tender and Daenerys looked down at her own hands, aching to touch his again.

“Dany it’s okay.” She said instead, slowly looking up at him again. “I was just taken aback by it before.”

He said nothing but smiled at her. The scars on his chest were exposed and her eyes lingered over them almost without her noticing, when she wanted to look away, it was too late. He had seen her and had moved to show them properly.

Daenerys’ heart ached at the view. How could someone want to harm him? Him, that was the most noble man she has ever met? She looked up at his face again. Maybe that had been the problem, maybe he was too good for the people and no one had understood it.

“Your scars--” She left the question floating around, hoping he would catch it.

“Aye.”

She left out a heavy sigh, her shoulders feeling heavy and lose at the same time. Daenerys liked her bottom lip while looking down again and slowly approached his chest with an uncertain hand. But she couldn’t do it, she couldn’t just reach out and touch, and when his hand took her wrist to guide her over him, her heart hammered inside her chest.

His skin was warm and the edges of every scar exactly like she thought, hard and not quit old yet. She wanted to ask him when this has happened, how it was, and if the ones who did it were still alive. The idea burn deep in her belly, forming an emptiness she didn’t like.

“How could it be…?”

“A Red Priestess brought me back. I don’t know all the details, I suspect I don’t want to know.” He said, his tone letting her know there was more to it he couldn’t put into words.

She wasn’t here to torture him with it, so she just followed the path to the scar over his chest. “So you were truly-- you were dead.”

It wasn’t a question and he didn’t seem to want to hide it anymore, Jon nodded.

The scar looked like a half moon, it almost made her smile when her mind recalled the times she has been called The Moon. She wondered what he would think, if he would felt as warm as she did while thinking about it.

“I almost didn’t met you.” Daenerys swallowed, looking up at his eyes. “You like doing stupid things, don’t you?”

The way he smiled, lowering his head before looking up again, she realized he was trying to not laugh. So she moved from her chair, standing in front of him with both hands on his face. He stopped then, looking up at her eyes in a tender way, still a bit surprised, but loving. There was no other way to describe it.

“You have to stop.” She said. “I’m not losing you. You said you are a King, then be one. You don’t have to be the stupid hero, survive for your people if you won’t for yourself.”

Jon’s eyes were a poem, or that they looked to her. Daenerys didn’t realize when he had put his hands on her waist but responded to the soft push of them, sitting on his lap in the process as he embraced her tight.

His grip was strong, his breathing heavy and his smell sparked the memory of a rainy morning as she looked through her window in the big house with the red door when she was a kid. Daenerys frowned, memories of that house were still sacred to her, and as much as she wanted to maintain them fresh, they had been disappearing one by one. But this one was new.

Almost as new as the way she felt for him. Not the same she felt for any of the people she has cared about before, not like her love and necessity of Drogo, her desire for Daario, her connection to Jorah. It was-- it was--.

“I’m sorry.” He said again, the warm of his mouth so close to her ear, her skin sparkled in goosebumps. “I’m here now.”

He would probably keep doing all the dangerous things being a leader got them to do, she would put herself in danger many times again after this, but as a long as he returned to her and hold her like this, she’d be stupid with him.

Feeling like this was probably a mistake, but she couldn’t help it. Daenerys smiled at him and leaned her forehead to his, closing her eyes and they breathe each other in.  

Later, he lay down again as she stayed with him the rest of the day. She didn’t dream bad that night.

[ruleandruinrpg]

CONGRATULATIONS, JEN!

You have been accepted for the role of VASILY BARANOV. Admin Rosey: Jen, you have no idea how completely over the moon I am about this application. You captured him in a single sentence, "He is a man who is so much more than what people perceive of him." You captured that perfectly, from the future plots, to the para sample that utterly broke my heart, to the headcanons. He's a man of many talents and intricacies - and you condensed all of that in this single application. When I read your application you brought him to life with his voice, his interactions, and just about everything else. I can't wait to watch him unfold! You have 24 HOURS to send in your account. Also, remember to look at the CHECKLIST. Welcome to Ravka!

OUT OF CHARACTER

ALIAS: Jen

PREFERRED PRONOUNS: she/her

AGE: 18

TIMEZONE & ACTIVITY LEVEL: UTC+2 | I finish my finals this thursday and then I will start my summer holiday so my activity level will be pretty high. I’d say 8/10.

CURRENT/PAST ACCOUNTS: @lyradyson

IN CHARACTER

DESIRED CHARACTER: Vasily Baranov

WHAT DREW YOU TO THIS CHARACTER?

I didn’t really expect to connect with Vasily upon first glance at his bio, to be honest, but once I actually read it and got to look at the snippet of his soul which was exposed in his bio, I immediately felt like I understood him. He is a man who is so much more than what people perceive of him. Outwardly, he would seem like someone who was born for nobility; the way he speaks, the way he holds himself. He would seem like someone who knows who they are and carries it proudly but if one were to pay more attention, they might notice the slightly stiff cadence of his voice; how he strings his words together as elegantly as one would pair up musical notes but somehow, there is always a flat undertone to them. You would never catch his voice rising in pitch as he spoke of something he was enthusiastic about, you would never catch him stammering with tearful eyes and a sorrowful expression, either. He rarely smiles genuinely; whenever he does smile, it’s more out of instinctual politeness or a required reaction than anything else. He doesn’t express emotion because he felt it so intensely while growing up that it got drained out of him

I feel like, as a child and afterwards as a teenager, living around nothing but his father’s toxic presence and the ghost of his mother that constantly haunted them, he must have carried immense guilt. The mentions of his mother which used to be a constant in his life, along with his father’s self-destruction as living proof of the tragedy his birth had brought onto them, it all contributed to his belief that his existence brought nothing but destruction. And of course he had no chance to expel that guilt and all the sadness he faced whenever he was around his father–and even when he wasn’t around him–and so he ended up teaching himself to compartmentalize. He bottled it all in to keep from tilting beneath the weight of his guilt and all the other emotions he had to experience everyday throughout his life with his father. The weight which had just kept getting heavier and heavier. He taught himself not only that but practically everything; he brought himself up because nothing was going to do it for him; not the love of his dead mother, and not the envy of his barely-living father. He’s independent and self-reliant but those two qualities definitely came at a heavy cost. From how much he had kept his emotions in and how much he had learned to school and anchor himself, he ended up locking his emotions and losing the key.

And yet, despite all that, he walks among people gracefully, not once displaying the torment he had endured and does endure occasionally nowadays. Life as a trader; a life which depends on charisma and wit had taught him to feign; to pretend; something which must have been unfamiliar to him because he could never really pretend around his father; the living testament to his destructive existence. But when he was finally free of that, he adapted to the new environments he was constantly finding himself in which made him qualified for eventually joining the Ravkan court. The fact that he’s not emotionally expressive doesn’t mean he’s emotionless, however. Vasily feels. And he feels intensely. Which is part of the reason why he keeps it all in.

He’s just so burdened that it makes me feel genuinely sorry for him. Burdened when he doesn’t have to be. When he allows himself to think about it, he blames himself for his mother’s death, for the way his father’s life had deteriorated even if the man always claimed that he wished he’d married someone else and denied the fact that he was grieving. He blames himself for accepting the way his father had cast him aside and how he pretty much abandoned the man because he feels partly responsible for him; he feels as if it had been up to him to help the man heal somehow, as if it was his responsibility simply for being his son. He grew up to become a bright man; the only hope left for the Baranov name–and yet, he finds nothing prideful in that; doesn’t really see it as an accomplishment. I find him to be quite the pessimist but it’s justified that he turned out this way considering how every time he dared to have hope, fate always snatched it from his grasp somehow.

There’s just so much of him to explore. The emptiness that constantly envelopes his soul has made him lose sight of who he is. He has many personas; the gentleman, the noble, the strategist, the supporter. He is whatever the situation requires him to be; that’s how adaptable he is. But in the midst of his adaptation and the layers he continues to surround himself with, he lost the essence of who he is. I want him to discover it again. I want him to want to discover it again, to finally find the motivation to conquer the void he feels within him. I want to put him in situations which will test his morals, his values, his flaws, his qualities. Those are all things I can’t really see clearly right now from how much his emptiness is overshadowing it all but I want to see it. I want to know how he truly is and I want him to know it as well. In a situation of crisis, would his primary concern be rescuing himself or would he consider other people first and rush to help as much as he can? If he had a chance to, would he cheat to win the game or would he feel like he is above cheating? Who was he, who is he, who is he going to become?

WHAT FUTURE PLOT IDEAS DID YOU HAVE IN MIND?

( players of the same game ): Rhea has got plans for Vasily and although it’s a plot that mostly depends on what I could potentially plan with Rhea’s player, I feel like it would have a big impact on Vasily. He has been playing the game fairly so far; I don’t think he’s been involved in any shady business in the court; after all, he’s still establishing his position as a Duke and you could say he’s being too careful and he might agree with you but Vasily is nothing if not calculated. He’s not impulsive. And that’s why he never responded to Rhea’s offers. But he does consider them whenever he thinks about it. So, it would be interesting to see what he would get involved in with the woman and whether he would allow her to manipulate him like she wants to. If he would be willing to risk falling into something beyond his control just for the sake of the thrill he might find in the potential danger of whatever the woman has got in mind.

( pills and potions ): Vasily hates the sense of losing control of himself and the circumstances he’s in. He’s a control freak, you could say. It’s why he never drinks too much and never indulges into the blessing of obliviousness. The drug Druvik gave him represents that blessing and Vasily would be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted to use it. Vasily is always stumbling in the darkness of doubt; constantly doubting his values, constantly doubting himself. He is a man who values self-control and yet, there is no bigger temptation he faces than the small, inconspicuous bag he has in his drawer and the potential it holds. It could take away the suffocating silence which only accentuates how loud his thoughts could get. It could take away the emptiness he finds every way he turns to in his miserable life. It could, it could, it could. He knows it’s dangerous; he inherently knows Druvik wasn’t really doing him a favor when he slipped that bag into his hand…or was he? To be honest, I want to push Vasily to the point where he would either allow his emotions to overflow for once or he would succumb to the temptation the drug represents. It would be so interesting to see just what it would take to get him to that decisive point; the point of deliberately giving away control. He doesn’t know what the drug is made of, what its effects are, if it’s addictive or not; it’s not something he can pre-empt which is what is so intimidating about it to him but it’s a constant temptation if only for its constant presence and promise.

( confidant ): Aside from emptiness, there is another demon that Vasily is constantly tackling; loneliness. He’s not incapable of putting trust in others, it’s simply that he never allows anyone to get too close. One reason is because he breaks everything he touches; he fears that his presence becoming constant in someone else’s life would only bring tragedy but another reason is because he never knew what it was like to trust someone or to love someone and vice versa. He’d been put at fault for simply existing from the minute he was born and that was all he had known while in the presence of his father. All the connections he’s ever formed in his life were business connections or simple acquaintance; nothing more and nothing less. I want him to find someone he can trust, someone who sees him for who he is, someone who will acknowledge Vasily’s emotional boundaries and limitations and deliberately slip past them. I want him to explore what a connection with another person would feel like; a notion that is so alien to him. I want to explore if it would have positive or negative effects on him; if it would prompt a reaction from him where he embraces it or if it would make him push it away and dismiss it; if it would change him in the long run and help him to be more genuine or if it would only make him close himself off the rest of the world even more.

( chess board ): I don’t believe being a member of the Ravkan court is easy; it’s a chess game. And Vasily is only one of many pieces. I refuse to believe that there aren’t things brewing in the background of the court and that things are a lot more multi-facted than they seem especially with the wars that are currently brewing. I want Vasily to get waist-deep in it all. He’s been playing it safe since arriving at Ravka but I want him to drift away from that, even if he will without realizing it. I want him to get knotted in the politics and tactics of it all and to see how it would influence him and his already weak grasp on his own values and morals. What connections will he form and what would their nature be? Will he gain enemies or allies or both? Will it make him more shrewd and jaded or will it make him hold on to whatever integrity he might possess? Will he get lost in it all and let himself get corrupted or will he somehow maintain his frail grip on who he is?

WOULD YOU BE WILLING TO HAVE YOUR CHARACTER DIE?: It depends on whether I end up losing muse for him and if it would further the plot, honestly.

IN DEPTH

IN CHARACTER PARA SAMPLE(S):

“You’re leaving.”

Vasily glanced up from his plate of burned potatoes and vegetables; eyes falling on the glass his father was twirling lazily in his hand, the liquor within it swishing and making soft sounds as it clashed against the sides of the glass; it was the only audible sound aside from their breathing. His father was clearly addressing him but was it a serious statement Vasily ought to consider a legitimate response to or was it the usual vague sentence he always used as a prequel to whatever drunken story he was about to tell? The young boy chose to stay quiet, his gaze falling back to his food. He’d been cooking meals for them both for as long as he could remember and yet, he always managed to burn the potatoes for some reason even though every time, he followed the instructions carefully from the cook book. He frowned softly as he fiddled with the darkened edges of the potatoes; wondering what he had done wrong. He was always wondering what he had done wrong.

“Boy.” His father called, his guttural voice hoarse as it scraped its way through his vocal chords. Vasily was nineteen now; he was a man and yet, that was not something his father was concerned with; he was only concerned with not speaking his son’s name and as bitter as it used to make Vasily, he was more than used to it by now. He was used to it all. This current situation with his father, it had been a constantly repeated pattern through the years with only minimal changes here and there. He knew how this was going to go and yet he wanted nothing but to walk away and lock himself up in his room.

“Yes, Father?” Vasily replied, a tone of caution seeping into his voice. He refused to look up from his plate.

“You’re leaving.” He repeated, still with the same lazy tone, in his same exact position, still twirling the glass of liquid poison he sought so desperately.

Vasily frowned, not knowing how to respond without any elaboration. His father seemed serious and oddly sober, though. His stomach churned.

“How…am I leaving, exactly?” He made sure his tone remained calm but his sense of dread only rose with each second that passed while he waited for his father’s elaboration. This wasn’t the way their conversations usually went.

“Doesn’t matter how,” He slurred. “You just are. Because I want you to.”

Vasily finally looked up from his food and was surprised that the man was actually making direct eye contact with him. The grim sight of his red-rimmed eyes was unpleasant but it was nothing compared to the cruel determination within those eyes. Vasily blinked then swallowed nervously, barely holding back a flinch against the strange lucidity that suddenly encompassed his father. He was aware of every single word he was saying and he wanted Vasily to know that.

“A ship is sailing with goods at dawn. You’re boarding it. You’re leaving and you’re not coming back.”

For a moment, Vasily had no idea how to react. Part of him was enraged at the way his father was addressing him as some sort of item that he had no use for anymore. Another part was cowering before the calculated cruelty he saw through those eyes that were so similar to his and yet so different. The dominant part of him, however, was already thinking ahead; his father was nothing if not stubborn and he seemed adamant that Vasily was leaving so where would he go? And how would he get there?

Why?

A few stagnant minutes passed where all his father did was glare at him and all Vasily did was clench his fists beneath the table as his gaze fell back on his food. This was unprecedented but the cause was becoming more apparent to him; his father had been more and more aloof and short-tempered around him since news had reached him that Vasily had been incredibly successful on the few trading trips he’d gone on recently. A man had come to visit his father a few days ago but Vasily had only heard snippets of their conversation; your boy is bright. He ought to raise the Baranov name from the dead!

The only reason he had gone on those trips–the only reason why he’d been going on them for years–was to get money for his education. His father wasn’t paying anything so Vasily was earning his own money and had been for years. But it wasn’t out of selfish intent; he enrolled himself into a schooling home because he’d thought his father would appreciate his self-reliance. He’d hoped it would make him less of a burden to the older man. He was wrong in that hope, apparently.

Was his father really banishing him for something that Vasily had done solely to make him proud?

“Do you hear me?”

Vasily looked up and met the man’s gaze once more, sorrow shining through his gentle eyes momentarily before they grew cold with a blink. He gave a stiff nod then slowly pushed himself up from his chair and walked out of the room.

—

Tendrils of wind slashed against his face as he stood aboard the ship that resembled his escape. It was banishment, there was no denying that. But he would call it an escape. He watched the port as it grew more and more distant; no one was standing on it. His father had accompanied him only to make sure that he would actually board the ship and the second that Vasily had stepped foot onto the vessel, his father had left. What had dread sinking into the pit of his stomach was how steady his steps were; you wouldn’t expect his legs to be aware of what a straight line even was from how much liquor he consumed on a daily basis but he hadn’t been stumbling as he walked away. His steps were steady and sure. As if he had made a decision he knew he wouldn’t regret. Casting away his own son.

Vasily shut his eyes as a particularly cruel slash of wind assaulted his face all of a sudden; although he was shutting his eyes due to what he was feeling on the inside rather than the outside. Was that pain? Why was he feeling it now of all times? He had been enduring his father’s rejection–his father’s hatred–of him since birth and it never impacted him to this degree; to a point where he felt genuine pain. There it was; an aching, pounding echo in the hollow of his chest. He had no idea what to do with this ache; how to utilize it. He had no idea what he was going to do from now on.

He took a moment to look behind him at the crew; strangers that he was apparently going to live with from now on. Each one of them was going about their business; although that hadn’t been the case when he had first boarded, when they were exchanging whispers and eyeing him strangely as him and his father parted ways. How do they think of him now, he wondered? A noble who finally gave himself a chance to go down a commoner’s winding path? A man who simply grew bored of the finite land and sought the endless stretches of sea? Or did they seem him for what he was; an abandoned son? Or did they have no idea why he was even here?

So many questions and no answers. That had been his life for as long as he could remember. He had been seeking a change. He had been working towards it. He had had hope. But he was never meant to have anything good; he only had himself and the void he constantly carried with him.

He wondered if it would ever be enough.

CHARACTER HEADCANONS

- He loves writing. It’s the only outlet he’s ever had for his thoughts and it’s among the few things that help him to center himself at times when the silence gets just a little bit too loud. Losing himself in the words he lay out on blank papers was the only time where he felt pleasantly isolated, from his thoughts and from his surroundings. His writings are very private to him, however, and he’s always keeping them hidden in fear of someone stumbling upon them somehow. He carries a small journal around with him wherever he goes.

- He’s bisexual. The only reason he discovered that was during a period of time where he’d picked up sleeping around with strangers as the new outlet for his emotions. It had worked for a while but Vasily didn’t like the instability of it and the situation with Rhea is just one out of many examples that show his sexual encounters don’t really end well, most of the time. He was always in it for the physicality and aftermath of it; for the way his mind would go pleasantly blank after a decent climax and nothing more. And while some people were on the same page with him in that aspect, others weren’t and it led to complications. Complications and the personal discovery of his sexual orientation had been the only things he had ever gained out of that time period in his life.

- He always wished to have a sibling. Whether out of a sincere desire for companionship during the lonely, lonely time of his upbringing or out of a childish wish that there had been someone else to receive the blame for their mother’s death and endure the hatred of their father, he didn’t know. But he always liked the sense of union that he felt whenever he thought of the notion of brotherhood. The solidarity of having someone who would always be there for you, if only for nothing except the fact that blood could never be water. Blood is water to Vasily, however, but he likes to think, whenever he bothered to think about it, that he might have ended up with a different perspective if he had had a brother or a sister to stand beside him.

- He considers himself more socially inexperienced than introverted. Vasily can be quite the charmer when he played the part and social gatherings where he had to fall under the guise of politeness and professionalism were the easiest thing in the world for him. However, interactions where he had to be Vasily; where he ought to express himself instead of speaking of politics and the workings of the court; those were the tricky interactions. He’d never had what people would call ‘friends’ and never experienced a situation where he could be himself or express his thoughts openly and without restrictions. He is someone who plans his every word, who embraces the politeness and manners he has taught himself over the years, who calculates every action before he makes it. It’s not in his nature to be sporadic, spontaneous and true to himself; his upbringing never allowed him to be that person.

- He is quite the tactician; it shows in his naturally calculative nature. This trait of his dominates most things he does. As a child, upon waking up, he would stare at the ceiling and list in his mind all the things he was going to do after leaving the bed and what he was going to do throughout the day until the moment he ought to return back to bed. He still keeps this habit to this day. And that trait of his is the reason why he’s not someone who appreciates an abrupt change; doesn’t like it when something happens that disturbs a pattern he had set. It’s also why he’s someone who enjoys routine. He enjoys the stability and predictability of it. He is very adaptable so if he knew that circumstances were going to change, he behaved accordingly but when a change happens sporadically and unexpectedly, it usually makes him flounder a little bit before he is able to formulate a plan to get back on track. He always got back on track. He wonders if a time would come when he wouldn’t be able to.

- He occasionally sends letters to his father to which he never receives a response. He does it more out of a sense of obligation towards the old man rather than a genuine concern for him. Being away from his father has cleared Vasily’s vision somewhat; it transformed a portion of his guilt into resentment towards his father. The man Vasily always tried to please but only ended up receiving nothing from in return. And yet he still sends the letters and actually means some of the things he writes in them. However, they have been getting shorter and shorter and becoming less and less frequent recently.

- He speaks many languages and is educated on several cultures from how much he had traveled prior to landing in Ravka. It has its advantages when he’s representing the Ravkan court in front of a foreigner; his familiarity with several cultures makes him likable to most people he meets in business or social interactions and it makes him come off as a noble, trust-worthy man which is always a perk.

EXTRAS: None because I’m uninspired as shit.

ANYTHING ELSE? Once a nerd, always a nerd; my favorite book is Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.